God appears, and God is light,
To those poor souls who dwell in night;
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day
-William Blake
Chapter 1: The End?
Destiny Islands
...
Riku shifted and tried to be patient. Dunking a person's head in the water to make them snap out of it was probably unseemly for his image but it was Sora so…
...it wasn't beneath him.
"I know, I know," Kairi yawned from the coconut tree she was perched. She tucked an unruly strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "Staring out at the horizon and being moody is your thing."
"Don't ever let anyone tell you that you have a way with flattery Kairi."
She grinned at his sullen expression. "You're just annoyed that he does it better than you."
He ignored that one and crossed his arms, nodding over to Sora in the distance. "So, do you think he'll close it?"
She blinked, somewhat perplexed by the question.
"I mean, he doesn't have to, you know," Riku continued, still studying their friend in the distance. "It's not like the world's gonna be in danger if it's not. He doesn't have to—"
"He has to do it Riku." Kairi's tone was final. "All the doors have to be sealed, heartless or no heartless. King Mickey—"
"I understand that. But you can't make someone just forget about something that's been a huge part of their life and move on-it's not that easy."
"I know that, I just…" her expression softened and she looked down at her lap. "I want things to go back to normal, Riku."
"Haven't they always been?"
"I know you've noticed, Riku."
"So you won't hold it against me if I dunk his head in the sea? He sure is taking his sweet time."
Kairi poked his shoulder with her toe. One of her sandals dropped onto the sand in the process. Heaving a sigh, he slouched off from where he'd been leaning and bent to pick it up. His eyes were on Sora as he straightened before he surveyed the quickly darkening sky above them.
"Riku?"
He handed her sandal back to her. "Let's go. Current's getting stronger and I don't like the look of those storm clouds."
"Yeah, yeah."
They headed over in silence. A few paces away from Sora, he stopped, wondering if the clouds were an omen, just like ten years ago when all of this started. Were things going to change again? He sensed, rather than saw Kairi smile beside him.
"You know," she whispered, tugging his sleeve. "I still see that same goofy kid who used to trip over himself while running."
"I'll be sure to let him know," Riku teased.
"Oh you," she laughed, shoving him. They continued toward Sora but he hesitated again.
"What's eating you?"
Riku could feel a frown forming on his face in spite of his efforts to the contrary. "You know, Sora hasn't been himself lately. It's like every time he closes a door something etches onto his heart. It's hard to explain, but it seemed like it got harder for him the next time round."
"I think I get it though. No one ever likes saying good-bye. But we have to do it; it's a part of growing up."
Riku smirked. "Someone's in a hurry to grow up."
"I just...we can't keep putting our lives on hold, you know?"
"Okay. You can be the one to tell him that."
Kairi laughed at that. Hearing her Sora finally glanced their way, bright blue eyes quizzical. Inwardly, Riku shook his head. Kairi was right. No matter how much older Sora got, the same goofy kid still remained.
"What's so funny?" Sora asked.
"Kairi says she'll marry you if you got a new haircut," Riku called with his hands cupped around his mouth.
Sora's hands went to his head dramatically. "She said what about my haircut?"
Riku smirked. Ten years and they were still playing this game.
"I did not!" Kairi shrieked.
Riku laughed as he dodged a kick in the shins, before running up and down the beach trying to sweet-talk her into not throwing a coconut at him because she had a damn good throwing arm. He held up his hands in mock-surrender, backing away.
"Now now Kairi,"
"I do not think that—"
Riku did his best imitation of her. "It's so scruffy omigod and don't get me started about the five o'clock shadow…OW!"
"Hah! Serves you right!" Kairi laughed. Her eyes widened at his expression and the coconuts rolled down the sand toward the sea as she took off.
"Don't say I didn't warn you!" Riku said, tearing after her.
Moments later there was a shriek and a splash as he dumped her in the water. He turned back to see if Sora'd come to her rescue (like he always did) but the latter just chuckled and lay down in the sand, crossing his hands behind his head. Right before Kairi forced Riku's head underwater he saw his friend holding out a hand to the sky, as if reaching for something.
He really does miss it, Riku thought.
. . .
"Hey, Kairi," Riku started hesitantly. "I wanna show you something."
Kairi rolled her eyes as she continued drying her hair. "If you think I'm gonna share a paopu fruit with you after that display, think again."
"So keep an open mind, okay?" he pressed.
Seeing his expression she frowned, but nodded.
Facing her, he held out his hand between them and closed his eyes. In moments, pure darkness emanated from it, crackling and flickering as if sensing too much light. The air around them begin to grow colder. Kairi looked back to Riku and could not suppress the shudder that ran through her body. Those eyes. This was the power that had once claimed his heart, mind and body.
"Riku?" she asked worriedly.
Riku directed the energy towards Sora. As if it had a mind of its own, black tendrils shot out like tentacles, reaching greedily for the latter, restrained only by Riku's control.
Kairi put a hand on his arm. "Riku stop,"
"Thanks for keeping an open mind," he said wryly. And then he let go. The energy fluctuated dangerously once, twice, then surged toward Sora with speed unequal to anything Kairi had ever seen before, but an intent she was all too familiar with.
Her grip tightened to a painful degree. "You'll hurt him!"
"It's okay," Riku said, sounding strained. "Just watch."
Kairi looked ahead, panic rising. But just as suddenly as the dark energy honed in on Sora, it dissipated. The latter continued to lie there, oblivious.
She looked back to Riku who now had his arms crossed over his chest, regarding her expectantly.
"Are you crazy!" she yelled through watery eyes, "what are you trying to prove!"
"Nothing, apparently," he muttered. He started for Sora again.
"Nothing?" Kairi hissed, wrenching him to face her. "You attacked him when he was defenseless!"
"The darkness died when it got to him, didn't it?" he said coolly.
"What's that got to do with anything!"
"Nothing, Kairi. I was just showing you that the light in his heart is still strong" he explained, as calmly as he could. "His resolve's still there. There's no way he won't close the last door. So we don't have to worry about him giving into darkness."
"Then why," she sniffed, wiping the tears hastily away"why did you have to scare me like that?"
"Because you're worried and I know you never stop unless I show you proof."
"I really hate you sometimes, you know?"
"I wouldn't be me if you didn't," he replied evenly.
"You guys okay?" Sora called, sitting up. Concern lined his features. "What's with all the yelling. And why's Kairi crying?"
"She's just angry that I stood up one of her friends," Riku called back.
Kairi kicked him.
Sora laughed and rolled his eyes . "Which one?"
"The cute blonde one."
Sora smirked. "If she's so cute why'd you stand her up?"
"I'm still wondering myself," Riku answered. Noticing Kairi's stony gaze he shrugged. "I do."
Kairi poked him in the chest. "You didn't really stand her up, did you? Because if you did—"
"She has a protective older brother so it wasn't like I could help myself."
"God. You're hopeless, both of you" Kairi sighed.
"If he didn't win that race I probably wouldn't be," Riku pointed out. That comment made her smile again.
"Still a sore loser I see."
Riku's mouth twitched, irritated. "I tripped."
"Sure."
"On purpose."
. . .
She's right about that, Riku mused twenty minutes later while he waited for Kairi to finish changing. After hearing the old shack door creak open he felt a tap on his shoulder.
"Hey," Kairi said. "I'm going to head back—a little tired. Will you tell him?"
"Yeah, I'll go get him in a bit." He smiled to reassure her.
She nodded and started walking back to the jetty. He watched her set off, heading towards the mainland. When the sound of the craft's small motor faded and all he could hear was the waves and wind, he pondered on what had happened earlier, relieved but not at all too pleased that he'd had to lie to her. Some habits just couldn't be outgrown, it seemed.
Letting out a heavy sigh, he started back for the beach letting his thoughts run freely, like the wind caressing his face.
DARKNESS…
It didn't dissipate because of the light; it was drained.
BY WHO?
I actually had to lie to Kairi.
RESOLVE…
He's been sealing countless worlds attacked by Heartless, so why do things seem…
UNBALANCED?
I know I saw something.
HIM?
"Sora!" Riku forced a smile as he called out to the brunette. "Come on! That's enough emo for one day."
Sora got up, brushed the sand from his clothes and started walking up the bank. Riku studied him. Sandy brown hair blowing in the wind, crown-shaped keepsake around his neck clinking, black jeans and zipper jacket wrinkled from sitting on the sand-yep, in a sense nothing much had changed over the past 10 years.
"Did Goofy and Donald write back?" he asked when he reached him.
Riku shrugged. "Knowing those two, they'd probably be too busy with King Mickey's affairs. You know how it is."
"And chances are Goofy might not know how to write and Donald'd spend too much time thinking about what to say," Sora agreed with a laugh.
Riku wondered how it was possible for someone to be so carefree.
On the way back while they reminisced, Riku continued to observe him carefully in the corner of his eye, trying to find reasons to snuff his suspicions. His best friend was still the same; still the same goofball so obtusely grounded by his beliefs. That being a good enough reason he pushed his concerns aside and decided not to ask. Sora would talk when he was ready. Or maybe he already was and he hadn't been paying attention.
Growing up is such a pain in the ass.
By the time they reached a forked pathway on the mainland lit with lanterns, night had fallen and it was time to part ways.
"So," Riku said, clapping him on the back, bringing the moron back to earth—again. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
"Don't you have work?" Sora deadpanned.
"It's Saturday, Sora."
He blinked dumbly. "It is?"
Riku sighed. "What's with you?"
Sora scratched the back of his head and shrugged. "Dunno. I've been having trouble sleeping these past few months. Maybe I'm just being mellow."
"Understatement of the year," Riku remarked, shaking him by the shoulders. "Just try, okay? We'll see you tomorrow. Oh, and uh, you're going to seal the last door, right?" he asked, slowly moving away to his path of the road.
Sora eyed him cynically. "You have been dying to ask me that I take it."
"Just curious."
"I'll seal it, just like the others and hopefully…everything will be fine", he made it sound like a question than an answer.
"I hope so too, you can't really risk losing this race" Riku said with a smirk. "Kairi's not going to wait forever, you know."
Sora's eyes flared indignantly (actually everything flared—he was quite expressive). "You tripped on purpose you dummy!"
"That's not what Kairi saw."
"See you later, Riku and stop picking on Kairi!"
Turning to the other path, Sora started walking down.
Not one to say goodbye, Riku strangely felt like he had to. Whether or not it made a difference didn't matter; doing things without regard to the consequences was a habit he seemed to have sponged off from his friend. Giving in, he called out just before Sora disappeared around a corner.
"Hey Sora, do me a favour, will ya?"
"What?" Sora asked, turning.
"Don't ever change," Riku said with a straight face.
Sora pretended to ponder on that. "Favors are temporary, you sure you don't want to make it a promise?" he offered with a grin.
"It's a favor because I want you to be free to do whatever you think is right." With a final wave that seemed more like a salute, the latter turned and walked.
Sora stared after him, puzzled for a moment. And then he shrugged it off and continued for home, admiring the lanterns. Light illuminating the darkness gave him hope. He couldn't remember the last time he walked home this late, with the calm breeze in his hair and a blanket of brilliantly twinkling stars over his head, but it felt nice; felt good. Anxieties regarding the last door were leaving him and he even whistled a tune to himself. Everything would work out.
I've done good, haven't I?
SPECTACULARLY.
A chilly wind blew all around Sora, making the lanterns rock unsteadily yet he remained unaffected. I've done the right thing. As long as there was light in his heart, he'd make it through anything. He'd never be alone.
OH, REALLY?
He stopped and looked up in the sky, thinking about the amazing people he'd met in Radiant Garden, Twilight Town and all the other vast worlds he'd traveled to. He reckoned he could beat Cloud in a fight now.
But, as long as they're safe, he thought.
Looking at his hand, a white light shimmered then quickly disappeared leaving behind his Keyblade, the Kingdom Key. It was funny despite how much he'd grown, he still needed two hands to support its weight and responsibility. Holding it above his head he pointed it at the sky, the golden hilt gleaming from the light of the lanterns. Closing his eyes he felt a familiar warmth from the hearts of all those he had touched and who had touched his in return along the way. He wasn't alone. They were thinking of him, too.
"Can't look back now" he told himself. Lowering the weapon, he stared at his reflection in the blade. He saw two things: a man with his face grave with experience and memories and a goofy-looking kid, still eager for adventure.
Sorry buddy.
"It would be nice to visit Goofy and Donald one last time", he said pleasantly to himself. The key blade blurred in white light and disappeared.
Putting his hands behind his head, Sora continued walking home towards the town now ahead him, small windows of houses were visible from the lights spilling out of them into the cold night.
I've done the right thing.
Content with his choice, Sora made his way with a lighter mind further down the path. So immersed was he in his relief that he did not notice the lanterns he passed begin to flicker and grow dim. Then, one by one in an almost ominous sequence, the light in them extinguished as darkness crept up on him. When the last pair in front of Sora went dark he quickly pivoted, alert with keyblade in hand. After a few moments, he exhaled and started walking again.
"It's just the wind," he muttered to himself.
But he tightened his grip on the keyblade anyway.
Castle Oblivion
. . .
A heartless crawled over rubble, moving chunks of wreckage from its path trying to get to the other side of mess, yellow eyes piercing, and antennae twitching as it got closer. There was light lurking amongst the shadows of Castle Oblivion and it would find it before its brethren became any wiser.
Jumping over shattered foundations, and broken beams it made its way further in, pausing atop a pile of rubble preceding a room where the energy seemed to be emanating from; warmer, warmer still. Jumping and landing near the entrance it raised its claws in greedy anticipation. It had arrived. It lunged, claws outstretched and reaching greedily—
It paused suddenly.
Antennae twitching furiously, its yellow eyes darted about. All it could see was an empty, circular room with throne chairs organized in equally circular fashion and a gaping hole in the ceiling where light seeped in from the outside. A battle had been fought here years ago but the creature found its attention drawn to one of the throne chairs. Xemnas, the old owner's name had been.
A dark portal suddenly ripped into being right in front of the heartless, distorting time and space. Wary, it leapt backward. And then it waited.
And waited.
Waited some more.
Curious, it crawled over and stopped right in front of it; a clawed finger reaching out to lightly scrape against its surface. There was no life, no light, nothing to be seen through the abyss but it still seemed to shimmer and ripple, at its touch, like a pool of dark water. The heartless' antennae pricked in sudden awareness, but it had waited too late.
A large, armored arm shot out the abyss and took hold of its head. One of its antennae broke, snapping easily like a twig in the process. It squirmed and thrashed and kicked violently to get free but the grip was sure and superior in strength.
Through the gaps of the man's fingers the creature saw more of the visitor as he stepped forward. It watched as he watched the room, listened as the grey tasset around his waist clinked with every movement he made. For someone of his impressive height and build, his footsteps were surprisingly light on the ground and he did not blunder about like the giant ones outside. Not much could be said of his face for it was hidden beneath a crimson hood, but his eyes: glowing pools of a menacing aquamarine, pierced right through its shadow. The heartless saw no keyblade on his person, only the protruding hilt of a great flamberge sheathed on his back.
Taking advantage of the visitor's morbid curiosity at the state of the room, the heartless acted. It kicked out its spindly legs at his chest; tried to scratch out his eyes. There was a pathetic clang as its limbs met with the unrelenting steel breastplate, and then long, dangerous silence.
The visitor grunted a few words. His tone was low, questioning. The heartless understood nothing, of course, for words were for humans. So all it could offer the visitor was a hiss and continued struggle.
The visitor's grip tightened in response and the heartless let out a screech, calling for help. Like blood from an open wound, other heartless began to pour out of the shadows, yellow eyes fixating instantly on the outsider. Light. It had been so long since light had touched this world. They were starved. They would feed.
. . .
He forced his fist closed and the vermin's head exploded in a cloud of black smoke, its body following suit; dissipating before it hit the ground. He regarded the outcome with narrowed eyes. These demons did not bleed?
"Demons!" he announced, eyeing the lot of them with contempt. "What realm is this?"
He stepped forward and swung Chaoseater from his back, letting it rest on the floor with a loud clang. It was meant to intimidate, but all the dark heads in the room tilted in collective interest at the display. The largest of them staggered forward, one arm reaching to grab for his heart. Silently he commended it for its foolish bravery.
In a flash the blade was sliding out of the ground and into the demon's chest cavity. Yellow eyes seemed to regard the sword and him curiously for a moment before its body went limp. Then, in the same fashion as the smaller underling, it evaporated into nothing. A collective hiss escaped from his audience as he stepped toward them.
One jumped forward. He cleaved it in two, the remains vaporizing quickly out of existence. In that time the others had quickly moved to surround him. They should have used the opportunity to attack him instead.
He slid his left foot slowly backward, leant his weight on it, waiting. They would come now; all at once. Demons had as much honor as he did mercy, he knew in all his confrontations with them. The insight did not fail him now; they came.
He crouched low, steadied his grip on Chaoseater's hilt. When it seemed they were upon him he pushed off his back foot. The movement was so fluid; so sinuous, it could not have been possible for one of his great size and weight. For the horseman it was muscle memory and reflex; training he could never unlearn and had endured in all its brutality for the sake of the Balance. He could hear the Council's chilling timbre as his fingers flexed on the hilt of his sword and he swung.
YOU NEPHILIM ARE BALANCE ITSELF: YOU STAND ON THE PRECIPICE OF TWO WORLDS; NEITHER ONE, NOR THE OTHER. PRESERVING THIS EQUILIBRIUM IS YOUR DESTINY, YOUR BIRTHRIGHT.
And Absalom?
They had no answer.
Chaoseater cut swathe upon swathe deep into the shadowy mass of creatures. Though they fell easily, he chose not to tarry in one place for too long. He would not underestimate these strange creatures, weak as they were. He darted from side to side, pivoted and countered with a deadly thrust occasionally when one managed to lunge from behind. One leapt onto his back, claws scraping against the armor plating and his shoulder guard. He reached behind, took hold and tossed it into one of the larger demons moving into the fray. Chaoseater followed, impaling it right between the eyes. He looked over its dissipating form, toward the scent of self-preservation now stronger than before. The creatures had gathered to one side, their bodies shaking and squishing and pushing tight against one another, until their forms began to soften and merge.
The horseman snorted humorlessly. They hardly stood a chance in number. To think they believed they stood a chance as one was as laughable as it was improbable. Demons rarely co-operated with the Horseman and the Council, and even more rarely amongst themselves. But even he could not deny that he was somewhat impressed at the result. There was no noticeable physical difference in the demon's appearance; it looked to be simply a larger, sturdier version of its tinier selves, if anything. But perhaps it had gained some form of intelligence, for it now waited for him to make the first move, antennae focused and twitching in his direction.
Sword at the ready, he walked steadily towards the new enemy, taking faster strides until he was charging forward. Reaching up with one hand, the demon wrenched a ceiling beam free and swung hard and fast, knocking him into the wall. So hard, in fact, that the entire beam shattered upon impact. As the horseman slid back toward the ground, swearing, the demon advanced, a giant fist raised. The ground shook as it brought it down hard, kicking up dust from the impact as he rolled to the side. Pivoting in the same movement, he turned and stabbed Chaoseater right through the center of the demon's hand, trapping it to the ground like a nail through wood.
While the creature focused on removing the sword, he darted up along its useless arm, intent on its head. Forming a fist with his large, enchanted gauntlet he slammed it head on into its expressionless face; black smoke tracking its descent as it fell backward, dazed. He retrieved his sword and started for the head now.
The edges of his blade gave off a crimson glow as he raised it above his head. Without a second thought, he cleaved the demon's head clean in half. The room's floor was filled with so much of its black essence as it dissipated that it poured out of the many cracks in the room to the outside, eventually evaporating into nothing.
He swung his sword back into its place on his back, clasping it back into its binding as he looked around dispassionately.
"I expect to find demons and here I find strangeness," he muttered as he left the room to get a better view of the realm he had stumbled upon. Trekking up a large pile of rubble he took in his surroundings—or rather, what seemed to be left of them.
In the dust-filled valley below he took notice of a group of demons fighting seemingly more evolved forms of their selves, who were clad in white armor. He focused on the insignia inscribed on their breastplates but did not recognize it. The bleakness of the environment however, did trigger an unexpected recollection of his brethren, however. Why the Council had chosen him rather than his more level-headed siblings mystified him, but he suspected Death had a hand in it, as a way of redeeming himself for his 'transgressions' against the White City. If he failed in this task, he knew he would not be able to show his face to Fury or Strife when time came for the Endwar.
"Something interferes with the Balance. Seek out its source. End it."
"The 'source' has left this world long ago," he muttered. Returning to the room he had entered this world from, he found a few more visitors had stepped through the portal Ruin had created. Visitors that looked more and smelt more like the demons he dealt with on a regular basis.
Scaly with horns protruding from their heads and snot-dripping snouts sniffing the air, their tails whipped as black, soulless eyes darted all around. Unlike the demons he had encountered previously, these ones possessed poorly made swords, along with the tiniest measurement of intelligence they constantly confused with stupidity. Which was why he had not been spotted as of yet. Their laughter filled the room now; a harsh sound that had all the grace of nails scraping against a hard surface.
"It's so close to becoming enveloped, I can smell it," he heard one hiss as he leant against the back wall and crossed his arms.
"Yessss," another chimed in, "such unbalance in our favor, and we have not even had to lift a finger. The Endwar is coming…and soon."
"A pity none of you will be able to see it," the horseman added in a dull tone.
All recoiled in surprise in fear and turned. All reached for their weapons. He wanted to laugh. Or perhaps he had, for they seemed to shrink back even further.
"Horsemen!"
"No, just one…"
"The Endwar is not even upon us!"
"What treachery is thisss!"
He rolled his eyes at that one.
"KILL HIM! KILL THE HORSEMAN!"
"My questions first, scum," he snarled.
"I think not…" one of the horde stepped right up to him, breathing foul sulfurous breath down the top of his hood as it prodded his chestplate with a bony finger. "You're a looong way from home, horseman…"
"And you are all dead," answered the horseman, with sinister calm.
.
.
. . .
.
.
The world of Nobodies is a wasteland of black ash and hopelessness; a civilization standing at the brink of decay. A civilization never meant to be, but was and now is no more. At the end of this shattered barren landscape lies the remains of a once grand castle; Castle Oblivion. A fitting name for all that can be seen now are its grim spires extending like skeletal fingers from the ground up towards the sky. They are reaching, reaching for a dream. A dream that is not even theirs; a borrowed dream, a fruitless dream; blasphemous, his superiors have proclaimed.
But a dream, nonetheless.
Yet for all their 'borrowed' dreaming something cannot simply be created out of nothing.
IT IS LAW,
he has been taught.
Nobodies are shadows of their former selves. They are not their former selves; they are nothing. They feel nothing; not joy, not anger, not sorrow. So it is fitting that nothing is their inheritance. It is fitting that this desolation be their true kingdom. For they are nothingness itself regardless of size or power; nothing can be greater than nothing.
NOTHING IS THE INHERITANCE OF BLASPHEMERS,
it has been ruthlessly enforced.
IT IS BALANCE,
the Council has decreed.
The larger ones, perhaps thrice his size traverse sluggishly around the wasteland; white armor once well-oiled and gleaming, now aged, dulled and battle-worn. Their insignia, the very symbol for nothing lives up to its namesake well; it is so scarcely visible now.
The search continues, he observes, the dream never ends.
Their footsteps dig deep into the ground as they wade through the debris of broken support beams and cracked slabs of concrete. Arms disproportionate to their height sway back and forth, and drag on the ground with every step. From a distant plane he continues to watch this all with hard eyes. This world in the absence of light should have vanished long ago. Why it continues to thrive while others disintegrate is a question he wants very much to be answered.
And so he has reluctantly hypothesized: despite it being their destiny, nothing, cannot be the meaning of these wretched creatures' existence. It is a perverse notion, but he intends to investigate this further—it may be linked to the sudden imbalance in the Three Kingdoms. He knows the Council will send their representative shortly. He hopes it is Death for he ironically, is the only one who can be reasoned with.
Screaming interrupts his reverie and he waves a cloaked hand over the seeing pools. Blood is all he can see before the water becomes still again and he can see an armour-clad figure ripping out a demon's entrails with a savagery he recognizes. He lets out a resigned sigh and waves his hand over the water, erasing the image entirely.
The Council has sent War.
To be continued in
Chapter 2: The World That Never Was