3.
It takes three days for the young man to wake from his slumber-Even doesn't know what to call it. It doesn't qualify as a true coma, according to his tests; and when he pokes into one of the tomes the mouse king left behind, he finds an abstractly worded passage regarding darkness and sleep, that it can threaten the mind. It's more puzzling than anything.
It seems he divides his attention between Ansem's two strays-Ienzo, reticent, not quite himself since the night in the lab, and Xehanort. He and Aeleus try to figure out what happened, asking questions as gently as they can, but now the boy's insisting he can't remember. Even isn't so sure, but he's also afraid to push, less it destabilize him more.
Aeleus and Dilan examine the molten lump of the gummi block. It still hasn't hardened after all these hours, and its temperature isn't even high. From the lead-encased fume hood they watch the tendrils of darkness swirl against the display. They placed a mouse inside, to see how it reacted; it panicked, squealing for hours, trying to outrun the tendrils before-and Dilan recounts this with horror-the darkness ate it whole, leaving behind nothing but one stump of a leg.
They aren't sure if the block is doing it on its own, or if it's due to the darkness, but it produces small amounts of electricity, enough to light a ten watt bulb for a few seconds. Even itches to see what it does to cells-if it truly does eat away at them, or if it has a transmutative property as well-but rather than pursue this, he must tend to the young man.
Ansem is with him, much like he was with Ienzo in those early days; Even has a feeling he knows where this is going. At least if Ansem takes in this stray too, this one is old enough to feed and clothe and educate himself.
Xehanort wakes with a gasp. "Who-?" he asks.
"Easy, young man," Ansem says kindly. "You've suffered a trauma."
He blinks, his strange gold eyes taking everything in. "Where am I?"
"A city called Radiant Garden. We found you by the castle gates, during a horrible storm."
"A… storm?" he echoes. His voice, while hoarse, is very deep for a boy that age.
"Do you remember what it is that led you here?" Ansem asks kindly. Even pulls the IV from the young man's hand, bandages it.
"No, I…" He tries to focus, squinting. "It's all… a blur."
"It may come back to you," Ansem says. "No need to worry. Where did you come from?"
The young man stares blankly. "I don't know."
"You don't-" Ansem's thrown. "Is there anything you do remember?"
"I'm Xehanort."
"Other than that."
The boy seems horrorstruck. "It's all-I can't-" He touches his forehead.
Even's mind spins back to his reading. "...Retrograde amnesia," he says gently. "Possibly as a response to an injury. But every test I ran showed no injuries…"
"We needn't worry our guest," Ansem says. His voice is polite, but Even senses the warning. "Not while he is recovering."
The young man meets Even's eyes. "No," he says. "Tell me."
Very quickly he finds that Xehanort is insatiably curious-about them, their work, this world he's ended up in. He wants answers. As he's physically well, he's soon moved into an empty room on their floor. Ansem presents him with the clothing and armor they'd found with him. "Very strange," Xehanort mutters, running his fingers over the material. "Nobody around here wears anything like this." He's gone out on his own, to explore the city and get his bearings. He's an adult; Even has no real interest in what he decides to pursue. "You say I arrived with the storm… Is that more than just poetic? Could I have possibly been brought here by darkness?"
Even wishes not to care about him, but the curiosity nags, itching, almost more than the darkness. It's clear the two are tied.
"How? And… why?" Xehanort presses a hand to his brow. "It's so strange, what I do and don't remember. I can't remember my hometown, but I know to read, to tie my shoes. This loss of memory can't be merely neurological."
He has a point; all of the boy's tests were normal. "Then what do you believe it is?" Even asks.
He thinks. "Perhaps… my heart?" He lays a hand on his chest. "If I were truly exposed to darkness, and my body wasn't impacted, that's all that could be left. Right?"
Even has to hide his shocked expression. It's beginning to click, the pieces coming together. The darkness-Ienzo's claim to have lost memory. "Your… heart," he repeats slowly. "Xehanort… perhaps you were a scientist in your previous life."
The boy smiles. "Well. Anything's possible."
This just emphasizes their need to be able to test and examine's people's hearts, and Ansem agrees. It isn't just feeling, or bonds, it can clearly be so much more. Memory! He's almost dizzy thinking about it.
Though Ienzo is temporarily banned from their research, Xehanort quickly assists; in some ways, it feels like he's always been there. It's clear he doesn't have the education, but he picks up the studies with an unnatural speed, faster even that precocious Ienzo. "It could be my memories," he says, returning a medical text to Even. "Maybe they're coming back. It just feels… right."
"You certainly are extremely bright," Even says, with a smile. "Who knows-perhaps it is fate, that brought you here."
"Perhaps…" He smiles, but then it fades. "But… then how did I get here? If I've learned anything, it's that it takes so much power and effort to harness the darkness. And why would I have done it in the first place?"
"I can't answer those questions," Even says.
He nods. "Might I examine that block?"
"If you like. Please be exceedingly careful. You don't want it to injure you… not like those poor mice." He knows they are just lab rats, lesser beings, but they still feel physical pain.
"I will, sir. Thank you."
It's the politeness, more than anything, that makes him smile. "My pleasure."
In all this, something in Ienzo begins to change. He's still learning as much, as quickly, still occasionally nightmares aloud. But he becomes again reticent-not mute, but speaking as little as possible. He withdraws from the others, often spends his time hiding in the library (according to Braig). Even doesn't pretend to understand it.
Xehanort chuckles. "Is it not obvious?"
Even looks up from the diagrams spread in front of him. "Say what you mean," he says, a bit snappishly.
"He's jealous ," Xehanort says. He shakes his head. "We're all down here, making these exciting discoveries-and then talking about them in and around him, over dinner, what have you." Ansem has recently formalized Xehanort's apprenticeship-not point not to. The young man is their inciting incident. "And he's smart enough that not being involved must hurt. How would you feel, Even, if someone was working on your passion project instead of you?"
He looks up. "You are… right. But it's not safe for him here."
Xehanort considers this. "I'll talk to him," he says. "Let's see if we can't ease the tension."
The good news comes in a pair. Seeing the cataclysmic storm the night of Xehanort's arrival made the board of ethics more amenable to studying the heart. They approve Even's plan to speak with human subjects and examine their hearts. This requires the construction of tiny conference rooms, to protect the privacy of their volunteers; it goes fairly quickly. Secondly, Ienzo is allowed to be present in the room again-on one condition.
"It could be worse," Braig says. "Babysitting duty? Hell of a lot easier than trying to keep kids out of the castle."
"I've no idea what you said to Master Ansem to allow him back," Dilan says, with a shake of his head.
"I'm his pet project," Xehanort says simply. "Ienzo's his son. Together, we're unstoppable."
The boy certainly does seem a lot happier; it helps that Xehanort puts the fear of god in him when it came to safety procedures. This makes Ienzo's seventh birthday a happy one, as they do have a lot to be thankful for.
They put notices in the papers, in community spaces, to find subjects for their study involving hearts. Initially, there's not much response; a few people, here and there. They take scrupulous amounts of notes on these people-their lives, if they've suffered traumas, their physical makeups. Ienzo believes that the balance within the hearts is tied to the bonds of people; so they interview friends, married couples, siblings, parents and children.
"Ienzo's right," Ansem says. "It makes a difference in the samples."
But how to truly determine light and darkness, all without hurting their subjects? It's a sticky situation. The pods Dilan built all those weeks ago can still divine the difference in matter, with some few tweaks by Xehanort. He can't deny that the machines look terrifying to step into, especially to an outsider. So while all the others bicker and waffle over the best way to do this, Even experiments again with his cells, his embryos. Things that are alive, but unfeeling. He holds the petri dish over the raw darkness extracted from the gummi block. Ienzo, bored of the arguing, watches as well from the other side of the glass. It gives Even a thrill, to only have gloves and some glass separating him from the darkness. Once exposed, he takes the cells back to his microscope. The darkness seems to have caused spontaneous division. This must've been what was missing all along, this power. Breathing a bit hard, he places the cells in an incubator, to see how it affects their functioning.
Xehanort is displeased with what they've done so far, momentous as it is. On one of the days Ansem isn't there, he says, "We need to go farther."
Aeleus squints. "How so?"
"Aeleus, we're so close. We… we've discovered so much, but we still haven't gotten close to how it all affects memory." He smooths a flyaway hair. "I've been doing some… reading. Master Ansem lent me some of the books that King Mickey brought and I…" His hands are trembling. Ienzo stares up at him. "I've managed to create darkness. It's great we still have that gummi block, but who knows how long it will be until it degrades?"
Even nearly spits out his coffee. "You created darkness? How is that even possible?"
"It's magic too, not just science." He closes his eyes, focusing hard; they see something like smoke in his palm. "Look," he says with difficulty. "I… tried it on the mice… it causes a sort of frisson, in their balances. I'm afraid I have no samples left." The darkness disappears. "If we could do it in people, maybe we can feel their bonds, see what it has to do with memory-"
"How do you propose doing this without killing people?" Dilan asks.
"I mean, I… I can try my best-" He swallows. "I would like to speak with Master Ansem. To see if we can get greater permission. We can… inform, the people. That way they know what they might risk. The people here love science, sirs. Some of them must be willing to make sacrifices."
In his chair in the corner, Braig is smirking just the slightest.
Another amnesiac ends up on their radar, though she does not appear during a storm. She's younger than Xehanort, about fifteen; unlike him, she doesn't even remember her name.
"She's the perfect opportunity," Xehanort says. "With this darkness, maybe I can help her. Heal her. Let her remember."
Even's seen him practicing, in the courtyards. He can manifest it with ease, now. "I don't know how Master Ansem will approve that." Apparently, Xehanort's idea made him fly into a rage. Even has no idea how that happened; he's seen Ansem angry, but not like this. He's ordered them to put a stop to the human side of the experiments, and so far they've listened.
Xehanort's gold eyes bear into his. "He doesn't need to know."
"But Xeha-"
"Aren't you curious?" he asks in a low voice. "Sir, I know you've been thinking about it. And I wasn't going to say anything, but I know what you're trying to achieve, with those embryos. I think that's amazing-it could change the world. Maybe the worlds! I know the darkness is the only way you've made progress, the only way you've been able to start giving them their own hearts." A pause. "Not to mention… if I can control memory… don't you all have a thing or two you wouldn't mind letting go of?"
He feels like he can't breathe. "How did you find out about that?"
Xehanort doesn't answer. "And Ienzo," he says. "I know how hard things have been for him, how much pain he's in, how little help there is-I can purify his mind of those memories. He can have the strength to be a fantastic researcher, instead of a sufferer."
"I am not sure," he says, reeling. "I-"
"Besides," he says. "If no one knows the girl's here, and there's… an accident, nobody will ever know. No ethics board. No Master Ansem." He stands back up, smoothing down his ascot. "Think about it," he adds, at a normal volume. "Sir, don't you deserve to be more than Master Ansem's errand boy, his babysitter? Wouldn't you rather this be your legacy, rather than a… a meaningless title?"
Even can feel his heart racing. "You won't hurt her?"
Xehanort squeezes his hand. "I shall try my very best."
They make one of the small rooms into a makeshift bedroom for the girl. They've already had subjects A through W, so it seems natural to label her as the next in line. She doesn't seem quite as lucid as Xehanort was, like her mind is half in a dream. Xehanort soon loops in the others, and while they too are hesitant, they are only doing this for the greater good. And who knows? Maybe they can give this girl her life back.
They begin with a psychological assessment, of sorts; most surprising is that Ienzo wants to be the one to do it. "I'm little," he says with a shrug. "I'm non-threatening." He gets her to talk about dreams. Most of the dreams are not interesting, or of note-teeth falling out, realizing one is naked in public-but there are a few Ienzo suspects are memories "because mine hide in my dreams too." She mentions something about a desert, about hoards of people; after she admits this, she falls into a deep sleep for nearly a week.
"Ienzo, this is excellent," Xehanort says. "Her heart must be damaged-making her mind remember those dreams made her body shut it down."
Ienzo doesn't smile, the way he normally does receiving such a compliment. "Then why doesn't mine?" he asks.
Xehanort kneels to his level. "Because your heart is strong," he says. "So is your mind. You can handle the stress; she can't."
"So I'm special," he says dryly.
There's a gleam in Xehanort's eye-curious. "Yes," he says. "You are."
When they come back the next morning the place has been ransacked. There are papers everywhere; one of Aeleus's plant pots has been smashed, leaving dirt all over the white floor.
"Braig," Dilan hisses. "Isn't this your purview?"
"Dude! I can't be here twenty-four hours a day. You forget I'm union?" He shrugs. "It must've been the night guy who let in our little friend-or maybe one of you forgot to lock the door."
They padlocked it recently, in case Ansem were to try and get in. Even maintains they are merely working with the darkness, with the gummi block; this airtight door was a precaution should it get out. It should be harder to lie to him after all these years.
Braig walks over to the girl's room. They don't lock it-she never goes anywhere either way, almost catatonic-and she sits on the mattress, on her hands. He snaps. "You, girl. You see anything?"
She shrugs, her long dark hair falling over one shoulder.
"You messing around in here?"
She shakes her head.
"Well then, who was it?"
"I must've been asleep," she says.
"There's some fishy business going on," Braig says. "Better keep a tighter lock in here, in case something falls into unsavory hands."
That night they lock the door of the girl's room for the first time. She doesn't react at all. They are ransacked two more times over the following month; they begin locking their papers in file cabinets in the offices. Xehanort is convinced that they've done all they can with the girl without further intervention. He goes to her one cold winter morning, to examine her heart; the rest of them, including Braig, watch. Ienzo, in particular, seems fascinated; Even has to put a hand on his shoulder to hold him back.
Even feels his own pulse hammering as he watches the boy hold his hands over the girl's chest, probing gently with the grayish strings of darkness. "I can feel her heart beating," he says. Her eyes are wide, staring, darting back and forth in fear. "Does that hurt, friend?"
"No," she says, with difficulty.
"I'm trying to find your memory. Your heart's strong, I can feel it. You should be proud of that." He probes more; she flinches.
"Careful," Even says without meaning to.
There's a faraway look in Xehanort's eyes. "I can feel it," he says. "The memory… it's like chains, like a heart's DNA-"
Dilan scribbles eager notes.
"There's darkness inside of her, too, already. And light. So much light. So beautiful."
"Do you see anything?" Aeleus asks.
"I can feel it. The memories are… severed. Choppy. I wonder if I can-"
She screams, a blood-curdling sound that causes Ienzo to cover his ears.
"Xehanort, that's enough for now," Even says.
They try it several more times on the girl. She complies, never fights, never asks questions; but it's more of a sort of exhaustion, Even figures, than a lack of will. He wonders if it's the darkness tiring her out, or else she's sick.
So they know memories are in chains, and they're in the heart; and that within the heart exists darkness as well as light. Stuff their studies all implied; now there's proof. Even's checking the girl when he sees it; a slight, almost imperceptible curl of darkness, mistakable for her dark hair. The fogginess and vacancy are gone from her eyes. He almost wonders if Xehanort's been able to heal her. "You don't know what you're messing with," she says urgently. "You have to stop this now."
"Did you remember something?" he asks gently.
She screams and clutches at her chest. The room smells like smoke. "You can't-you can't-"
He isn't sure how he knows; he jumps back and slams the door. She's still wailing, pounding on the window, the sound barely muffled by Plexiglas.
"What's going on?" Dilan asks. Ienzo's eyes are wide, and Aeleus is frozen in horror.
"I was merely checking her vitals," Even says breathlessly. "I don't know what-"
"Oh," Xehanort says softly, almost as if in a trance. He walks slowly towards them, pushing past Even and Ienzo numbly. He rests his palm on the window, his gold eyes vacant. "I-"
"Boy, what did you do?" Even asks.
"I thought the darkness was making her stronger, but it's…" He covers his mouth. "It's devouring her-"
Aside from the keening, the room is deathly silent until they hear Braig's "...The hell?"
Xehanort's head snaps up, and for a long, long moment the two held eye contact. Braig approaches slowly, tentatively, and reaches for the crossbow at his waist.
"No," Xehanort says. "We must study this."
"Really? Cause I'm not sure I want to find out what that's becoming."
In an instant, "she" became a "that."
"It won't last long," Xehanort says. "This is for… we have to know. Can't you see what this is saying about human nature?"
It isn't quick, in fact; she screams for hours, wordless, agonized shrieks. At first, Ienzo sits with his hands over his ears, but once it becomes clear the screaming isn't going to end, he lets go. There's something cold in his eyes, something Even hasn't noticed before. If the boy truly is sensitive to darkness, he must be feeling something.
The screaming stops. They all approach the door warily, sure the girl's dead; but this is not what's facing them. She no longer looks human; her body is the color of ink, her hands and feet elongated into claws, her eyes a glowing sort of gold.
Wordlessly, Ienzo presses his forehead against the girl's door. "...Heartless," he whispers. "It's gone."
"He's right," Xehanort mutters. "The darkness has taken her heart."
And so it begins.
They spend most of their days in that lab, examining the new being, the Heartless; though Even is not here always. Two new pupils are accepted as Ansem's junior apprentices. It's not an uncommon process-the king has done it several times over the years-but Even figured with both Ienzo and Xehanort, there would be no need. It's not like either of these boys join them, anyway; they have a bit of ladder-climbing to do. As he is still technically the one in charge of their training (though it feels increasingly ersatz), Even spends time with the boys. The quieter one, Isa, does have quite a bit of promise; intelligent, ingenious, and creative. As for the other, he can make the grade, but Even can't figure out what on earth the boy is here for. He's obnoxious; he interrupts constantly; he's found poking around where he shouldn't (perilously close to their lab); he's often out of uniform and refers to Even by his first name.
Though he has hoped Ienzo would perhaps take with them, particularly Isa, the boy has no interest in socializing. He's focused instead wholly on the Heartless, the girl, studying it (her?). They try to take samples from the Heartless, but it has no matter, and feels strangely intangible to the touch.
Between caring for Ienzo and educating the new apprentices, Even, again, finds himself increasingly pulled away from the lab. When he finally returns, he notes with horror that the divided cells he placed aside have died, becoming nothing more than black smoke in a petri dish. A heart is more than darkness. But how do they harness light? Is it the same?
There are also more subjects; volunteers, ones without amnesia. They are being quietly interviewed by Ienzo and Aeleus. The boy seems to have a natural aptitude for guiding the conversation, something Even's never witnessed; women, in particular, tend to be tickled by this. "Aren't you adorable?" more than one asks. At first, this seems to make Ienzo bristle, but soon, Even observes (and it makes him feel something cold and hard, something upsetting), the boy leans into this angle; using his stature as a way to get the answers he wants.
He never thought Ienzo could be manipulative.
Some of them are kept overnight, for "extended testing" and "sleep studies", but Even sees Xehanort disappear inside each roomette, with any of the others (even Braig?). This goes on for several days; one woman asks to see her daughters (a set of twins) in the next room, wants to go home.
"I'm sorry," Xehanort says. "But not quite yet."
Even can feel this is getting out of hand. Once was enough, the one creature horrifying. Yes, all people have darkness, did they really need more Heartless? Yet, the scientist in him, growing louder than the rest of him, is intrigued, almost intoxicated; after all, one is not a decent sample size. Nothing can be proven with one. They'd need at least a hundred, if not more, to come to a universal conclusion-what is wrong with him?
"Sir?" It's Isa speaking to him now, in the classroom space where he meets the two juniors twice a week. He hands him the test Even gave them. "Are you okay?"
He forces a smile. "Kind of you to ask. I'm merely tired, that's all."
The boy draws his hands behind his back, but doesn't return to his desk. The other, Lea, seems to be hard at work, one hand in his hair, his eyes full of confusion. "Do you… smell that?" Isa asks.
Even cants his head slightly. "What?"
"It smells like something's burning," Isa says gently. "Lea thinks so too."
"It stinks," the redhead agrees.
Even sniffs; try as he might, he has no idea what they speak of. "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."
"Might be electrical," Isa remarks. "Thank you for the lesson. I'm going to go to the library for a little while."
He tries clearing his nose with coffee beans, rubbing alcohol; he smells nothing other than the scents of the two substances. For about an hour he wanders around like a lunatic, sniffing various hallways. It all just smells normal; dust, food preparation, old books, laundry.
Odd. Perhaps the two were playing a prank on him. He won't put it past Lea. And the two are awfully buddy-buddy. No matter.
When he returns to the lab, he can tell immediately that something's changed. The lights seem dim; it's almost gloomy. He notes, with something approaching horror (and, oddly, jubilation, a sensation only getting stronger the longer he stands here), that all of the doors are closed. Occupied.
"...That's twenty-six," Dilan murmurs, scribbling something on a clipboard.
"Twenty-seven," Ienzo corrects. "The one in 4-B just went up."
Even approaches them, perturbed. "Twenty-seven?" he asks.
Dilan raises an eyebrow. "Heartless," he says, as though it's obvious. "We had to release the Miller twins and their mother, but don't worry, I doubt they'll say anything unseemly. Xehanort made sure of that."
"Twenty- seven?" He hasn't been gone that long; before there was just the one.
Xehanort emerges from one of the rooms, slamming shut its pocket door. The occupant screams, the sound muffled quickly. "We've made some changes, since you've been gone. We appreciate you continuing to give us a good face, Even. It's very valuable."
Even notes the absence of the "sir." He turns slowly. The doors are different, heavier; the windows have a reinforced inlay.
Xehanort smiles pleasantly. Ienzo's next to him, holding a clipboard. "Shall I catch you up on what's happened?"
They do not need to tell him, not really. Xehanort's seeking to replicate what happened with the girl, with X- "Oh, we're using numbers now"-in order to prove the universality of darkness in the heart. "My thoughts next are to look into a scale of age. Are we born pure? Are children pure, as thought in the myths?" (At this, Ienzo's head snaps up, and Even's heart gives a weird twitch.) "Are we at some point changed, transformed?"
"Biting from the apple of knowledge?" Even asks sourly.
Xehanort shrugs. "Perhaps." Braig just so happens to be toying with an apple. Cheekily, he takes a bite. "But my biggest discovery-perhaps the most important-is that we've found the realm of darkness."
"You found it," he repeats. "Just like that."
"Not quite." He stands up. "It's easy for me to find the darkness now. I know wizards and magicians use their magic to teleport-I figured, the theory might be the same." He holds out his palm. An oblong of darkness appears with a faint hiss and, Even realizes, the smell of smoke. "I've gone into it myself. There's a whole world in there, one not bound by physics! And there are more, so many more, Heartless. I think-I think we can use it to travel. To leave this world behind."
"...That so." He feels numb.
"You don't seem very pleased, Even."
He forces a smile. "On the contrary. It's merely a lot to wrap one's head around."
He bobs his head once. "Of course. Just think-we can apply what we learn here to whoever- whatever -is out there. This is-the building blocks of the very universe."
"Yes…" He feels it now, the pull of the thrill, his mind racing with the possibilities, a pull that makes him feel the most himself since- And of course, if they can understand life itself, that would make his creation all the easier to realize. "Yes."
Xehanort smiles. "I'm glad we're on the same page."
It feels like a million years since his last touchpoint with Ansem. So much has changed. Fifty-one brand new beings-his own brief, overwhelmed journey into the realm of darkness with Xehanort-the fact that his newest attempt with the embryos is still alive in its incubator. In reality it's only been a few weeks.
"Don't you look awfully pleased with yourself," Ansem says. Even isn't sure what to read into the tone, but Ansem smiles. "I take it things are going well?"
"Oh, extremely," he admits. "Both Ienzo and Xehanort are invaluable assets." Ienzo is technically too young to be considered a true apprentice, but it's all just paperwork at this point. The boy has thrown himself wholeheartedly into the project, is just as productive as the rest of them.
"I do wish I had more time to spend with you, but I'm afraid things are… intensely complicated at the moment. Between the city… Ienzo… the new junior apprentices… Well, you know I'd rather prioritize their learning than my personal pursuits. But I would like to see it."
His heart about stops. "You would?"
Ansem raises an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I? I was there in the beginning. I should at the very least like to be a witness."
Even nods, his heart pounding. "Of course, Master. We'd be very pleased to have you."
"Excellent. I'll make sure to set aside the time… say next week?"
"We'll be ready." He swallows. "I should go. It's nearly dinnertime. It helps to keep Ienzo on a schedule."
"Certainly." He's tapping the tips of his fingers together, an anxious gesture. Is this calculated? Does he feel Even's paranoia? Or is he simply preoccupied with other matters? "Even?"
He turns. "Yes, Master?"
"There is one small thing." His grin becomes more affable. "I'm positive it's just a rumor-every now and again some hooligan or another will circulate them-but they say they can hear screaming, at night."
He forces his expression into one of bored contempt; but yet, haven't Braig and Dilan been saying the same thing? "A silly ghost story," he asserts.
"Yes," Ansem says, though something's closed off in his eyes. "I'm sure. And I'm certain this has nothing to do with those missing persons cases?"
Even blinks; this is news to him, so he knows his surprise is genuine. "The what?"
"There are over seventy-five people missing. Once the number grows high enough, the authorities are required to report it to me. Funnily, it started shortly after I forbade young Xehanort from carrying out his manic experiments."
Even truly feels the creep of panic now.
All affability has drained out of Ansem's face now. He leans forward, across the desk. "Even, do you know anything about this?"
"You know I don't." He tries to make his indignation obvious. "As if I would ever do such an ugly, despicable thing. I took an oath, Master."
He settles back in his chair, but the glint in his eye is still there. "You know I trust you," he says. "But it never hurts to be too careful."
Even nods. "Of course. I can only imagine how much infighting you must deal with. Now I must go."
He nods, once. "...Be well."
He leaves the office with his mask in tact, but he can feel the panic taking over. Ansem knows. He knows . Once he comprehends it all, Even would no doubt be taken in-all of them-worse, he can't even remember what the consequences for something like this would be. He all but runs downstairs to the others. He feels faint, numb.
"Even?" Aeleus asks. "You look-"
"He knows," he says through his teeth. "Ansem. He's figured it out. You idiots. Did you think nobody would notice the people missing?"
Dilan guides him gently over to a chair. He's gasping for breath now. Ienzo approaches Even. "What will happen to us?" he asks softly.
"Nothing will happen to you, child. I promise."
Xehanort's eyes are closed. "I know what we can do." Over Ienzo's shoulder, he mouths, "Let's meet after dark."
Once the boy is in bed, they reconvene.
"I'm afraid you won't be happy with what I have to say," Xehanort says. "But I've been weighing the options-our work is so much more important than the small fry. So to speak." He's asked them to meet in a courtyard, of all places, and his back is to them. The spring wind is cold. "Ansem will never allow us to do this work. It does not matter to him that the subjects have consented. He's up on his moral high horse-despite the fact that this was basically his idea in the first place. After all, nobody's died. They're just… different. Why is our progress being stopped by a bunch of silly laws?"
Dilan squints at him. "So what do you propose? A coup? What then? You know nothing about how this city functions."
"No, no, not a coup. Rather… Ansem's going to go on a trip."
Even feels shaky, nauseous now. "Is that a euphemism?"
Xehanort smiles. "Not at all. I think he'd find the realm of darkness fascinating. He'll learn-he'll understand why we're doing all this. And he can no doubt learn to return whenever he so wishes."
Even's heart beats heavily. "What will we tell Ienzo?"
He thinks. "...That he's gone mad," he says softly. "Isn't it true? Drunk on silly, bureaucratic power? He thinks he can control what we can and cannot learn? The boy's better off without his mind blunted by such… petty matters."
Again Even feels himself acting. "That's fairly well reasoned, I suppose," he says.
"So next week, when he comes… that's what we'll do. And Ienzo will conveniently be away. You can be with him, if you so wish."
A plan comes to mind. "He may find that a comfort."
Xehanort smiles. "Does that work for everyone?"
Aeleus's face is unreadable; Dilan looks shaken, but it's quickly replaced with steely resolve. "Of course," he says. "Whatever you say is best."
"...Quite. Well. I hope you have a good night, gentlemen. Sleep well."
Even bobs his head and turns to leave the corridor.
"Wait," he hears Xehanort says.
Blast. "What is it?" he asks, politely.
"Even." He comes a bit closer. "I know you and Ansem have been affiliated for so many years. Doing this will not be difficult for you, will it?"
He shakes his head. Ienzo is way more important than Ansem; and much more vulnerable. The choice, he notes, is almost effortless. "We've been at odds for some time, as I'm sure you well know."
"I just… want to make sure."
"As you said. He will find it… enlightening. He may very well thank us."
In the dim light, his eyes almost seem to glow. "I'm sure. As long as you're on the right side. After all, considering you're legally in charge of research and development, should you not be able to go through with it, this will all be on you. You know I don't want that, right?"
It's a threat if Even's ever heard one. "Of course, Xehanort. You're always so considerate."
He holds out his hand. "I'm looking forward to our continued partnership."
Even takes it, noting how cold, how papery, it feels. "...The feeling is mutual."
Even bides his time.
He's shocked, but relieved, when Ansem doesn't show sooner. He isn't sure why the king is allowing them this much time. Maybe to dispose of the evidence? Maybe he's building a case against them, pooling resources? Either way, Even's strung out and anxious.
It's time to go.
Maybe it's a cowardly, foolhardy move, but he's taking Ienzo and leaving. Xehanort is obviously twisted, the darkness no doubt only helping. They'll go into hiding, leave this city.
And go where?
Another world? Even has no power over darkness like Xehanort does; he doesn't know if he wants to expose himself any more, or Ienzo, for that matter. But beyond the city limits there's just stone, and crystal, and empty barren wilderness. He's positive if they try to hide somewhere in this city they'll be found.
He has to try something. This clearly isn't going to end well. What if they should fall to darkness themselves? (But, the clinical part of his mind, growing louder and stronger, wouldn't that be fascinating? To cast aside what it means to be human, to rise above?) No, he's becoming a lunatic.
He packs some things for them, hides them among the frippery in his closet. He tries to be pleasant, subservient, towards Xehanort, putting up just enough of a fight so that he seems himself. But truly Even feels as if he's been backed into a corner; because he has been.
I'm such a fool.
He no longer cares if punishment befalls him; it's Ienzo he's worried about. Should Ansem disappear, should he himself become… compromised, what should stop Xehanort from molding the small genius into another sharp tool for him to use? Breaking down the boy's conscience before it's even fully formed, allowing him to do-goodness knows what?
What if that's what he's wanted all along?
He considers telling Ansem. Confessing, baring his soul, taking whatever came his way. Maybe so long as it all stopped, should Xehanort and his colleagues be contained. But Xehanort has the power of darkness. He can merely escape, and try again, elsewhere.
The night before their plan is meant to be enacted, he waits until the others are asleep, until it's so late as to be early. He dresses and approaches Ienzo's bedroom door slowly.
The door's already open. And Even knows what's about to meet him.
The boy's nowhere to be found. On his bed, reading the storybook Ienzo must have left behind, is Xehanort. "Oh, hello," he says pleasantly, setting the book aside.
"Where's the boy?" He keeps his tone neutral.
"No need to worry. He's quite safe. Sound asleep." He crosses his legs. "You weren't about to do something reckless, were you?"
Even takes a quick breath; caught. He tries to remain composed.
"See, I need him," Xehanort explains slowly. "Your boy is not as innocent or as purehearted as you think, Even. He likes this work. He's good at it. He knows exactly the right ways to break a person down, how to make the darkness spread faster. He's incredible. I will not have you waste him."
"He's only doing this to please you. Because he's a child. "
"Are you certain? Even, not everyone's born good. Some people have more darkness than others." He sighs. "But I digress. I didn't realize how soft you were… how weak. I thought you cared."
He says nothing.
"I believe in your replicas, Even. They can change the world… light a path to immortality. Place a heart in a new body… one can live infinitely."
"I see you went through my things."
"It was too tempting. You truly are a brilliant researcher."
"Where's the boy?"
"What's it matter? He's not yours. " A pause. "He's being freed. And you could be too, Even. Why do you hold so priggishly to such ties? All it's done is hurt you. Ansem's used you, manipulated you. He wants you all for himself. You could have the world."
He inhales shakily.
"...Besides. I'd hate for your record to be two for two, you know?"
Even blinks. "You'd joss him to keep me in line?"
Xehanort shrugs. "The choice is yours, Even. Or you could just leave. But either way the boy stays."
Even laughs; he can't help it. "You're so green, Xehanort," he says. "You understand nothing, you know nothing. A little power and you lose your head. No. That will not do."
"I've seen more than you know."
He's shaken the boy. Good. "You're so paranoid. You believe I'd leave now, when things are just getting exciting?"
Xehanort frowns. "I thought-"
"You thought what? Ienzo is prone to night terrors, and you remove him from his bed because you believe I'll-what? Take him? Disappear into the wilderness?" He clucks his tongue. "Only to die of starvation, or worse?"
"Why were you coming for him?"
"I check on him every night. Ask the others if you don't believe me."
"And the packs in your closet?"
"Supplies for a bad storm-they've gotten worse since you're arrived." He's infinitely glad he did not add clothing to them. "Xehanort. So quickly you feel so threatened. I'm on your side." Even can see him wavering. "Do you realize how long I've waited for an opportunity like this? As if Ansem would ever let me. I'm his babysitter-little more."
Xehanort grins. An intelligent child-but a naive one. "I must admit I'm relieved, Even."
"As long as I can assure you." He squeezes his hand, gently, trying not to shudder at the feel of it. "Now if you would please put Ienzo back in his bed."
"...Of course."
He turns to leave, his heart hammering. "So, is all in place for Ansem's… trip?"
He nods. On his way out, his shoulder brushes Even's. "Not to worry. It's already been done."
It feels like getting stabbed. "...Even better. Get some rest, Xehanort. You've earned it." He doesn't breathe until Braig brings the boy back. He's unharmed, deeply asleep; Even is sure they've sedated him. He smiles at Braig, and once they're in the hall, "I pray things went well?"
He chuckles darkly. "Put up a hell of a fight, the old codger. But he's an academic. Soft." He smirks. "No offense."
Even tries to return the smirk. It takes all the rest of his energy. "None taken. I'm stronger than you think. Well. I will see you tomorrow, Braig."
He goes over to the door. "Nighty-night."
Even waits until Braig's footsteps retreat; he can't be entirely sure, the man has such a soft tread. He checks Ienzo's arms for the pinprick of a hypodermic needle. He finds none, but they could have slipped it into a glass of juice, a snack. His breathing is much too deep and even; Ienzo hardly ever sleeps like this. "Oh, little one," he says softly. "What have we ever gotten into?"
His heart is racing, nausea and dread pumping through his body, making him shake. He settles into the chair at Ienzo's bedside, trying to compose himself.
Ansem in the realm of darkness.
There's no way to stop Xehanort now. Not without risking Ienzo's life, or his own.
My old friend. I'm so sorry.
Ienzo doesn't rouse until mid-morning; normally he's up at dawn. He stumbles into the kitchen blearily, rubbing his eyes. He flops into a chair.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," Even says. "You seemed exhausted last night, so I didn't wake you." He places a bowl of warm cereal in front of him. "Perhaps today you should work on your studies? It's been a little while."
He turns a bit green around the gills. "I'm not hungry," he mumbles.
"You need to eat. Keep your blood sugar up."
He shakes his head.
"Well, then at least have some juice."
"I don't feel well." He admits this painfully. "I feel sick…"
What on earth have they given him?
"Why don't you go back to bed? I'll bring you something to settle your stomach. Must've caught a bug, that's all. No wonder you were so tired."
He groans a little, but complies.
Even barely slept at all last night, full of knots. He thought he would feel worse; he feels not much of anything. Which may be for the best, if he has to deal with this. He gives Ienzo some medication, a wastebasket to be sick into.
"You don't have to stay with me," he says weakly. "You should go… work in the-"
"That's quite alright."
"I want you to. Please. They need you."
"I think they'll be fine for one day."
"Where's Master? Is he still going to come today?"
Even freezes. He hopes his face is placid. "He was called away, I'm afraid. He should be back soon."
"Is that… good?"
"For the time being. Until we can convince him of what we're doing."
Ienzo heaves weakly, but nothing comes up. Even pats him on the back. "I can hear them," he says softly. "Screaming. It has to stop-"
Even's blood runs cold. But yet, it is something of a relief to know Ienzo is not as callous as he acts around Xehanort. "All right. All right."
"We're hurting them."
He agrees, but struggles to console the boy. "They're doing this for science, Ienzo. For the greater good."
"Make it stop!" He actually is sick this time, and Even holds the hair away from his eyes.
Once Ienzo's through, Even wipes his face with a damp cloth. "When you're down there," he begins. "Do you do it because they asked you to? Or because you want to?"
"I…" He sniffles, trying not to cry. "The… it makes me feel… when I'm there…"
"Think about what you need to say. Take your time."
He nods. After a moment, the boy seems to compose himself. "When I'm there it feels… good," he admits. "Making them this way… feels like we're… changing the world. But when I'm away… I start to hear it. Even, am I… crazy?"
"Not at all, little one." He's starting to feel numb again. "Why don't you get some rest? I'll check on you in a little while." He pats the boy on the head, tucks the covers around him a little more closely. He tries to smile, but he's shaking a-not a good sign for his own physical condition. The stress he's under is no doubt bad for him. But what is he to do? Even tightens his ponytail, slips on his lab coat.
It must be darkness, making them feel this way-Even has felt it too, that sense of euphoria, of power, of discovery-because they truly are discovering so much. It certainly must not be good to expose oneself to it for so long. They've been treating it like radiation, with all the same precautions, but he has a feeling something so simple as lead will not stop darkness. They need something else, if this is to continue.
If this is to continue…
Must it?
He needs to speak with Aeleus and Dilan-away from Xehanort's prying eyes. He's the most senior apprentice. In Ansem's absence, he should have the most power, the most control. He tries to smooth his expression into one of indifference as he punches in the numbers.
The smell down here is stronger now, acrid and smoky, darkness rising from the cells (that's what they are at this point) like vapor. He gags a little, but quickly straightens. "Good morning," he says. "I hope all is well?"
"Where's Ienzo?" Aeleus asks. There's something like guilt in his stoic face-with his knowledge of botanicals, Even doesn't doubt for a moment that he was the one to drug the boy. Such trust Ienzo has for him-and how quickly this gentle man abuses it. The darkness is changing him. Dare he voice his concerns?
"Oh, poor thing seems to have caught a stomach bug," he says breezily. "He's resting now. The vomiting tired him out." He notes, with pleasure, Aeleus and Dilan both wince and won't make eye contact. So they were both in on it. Very well.
"He is rather fragile, isn't he?" Xehanort asks, with a shake of his head. "No matter. Perhaps we can find a way to make him stronger."
"...Quite." Something breaks through his numbness, an indignation. "Has anything changed?"
"We're at something of a standstill," Dilan admits, keeping his eyes stubbornly on the report in front of him. "The numbers seem to have stabilized. The initial levels of darkness in the subjects seems to vary, but within it there are standard deviations. It's only a correlation at this point, but look-" He pushes a spreadsheet across the table towards Even. He sits and takes it.
Even takes it all in. Gender, occupation, age-he notes that men at or near their prime, in positions in or adjacent to authority, seem to be the most vulnerable to it all. "How funny," he says. "According to this, we're the most susceptible."
"Indeed," Xehanort says, with a smile.
"I figured we needed to devise more ways to protect ourselves-I don't think the lead is cutting it." He gestures to the cells in the hallway, the darkness curling from below. "Very well. I will work on it. The rest of you may proceed as you wish."
And he does work on it; but something like this serves as a perfect excuse to examine their behaviors, how they were reacting. They are different. The subjects are less human beings and more numbers. Even notes with a strange distance how easily Dilan shrugs off a woman begging for mercy. Should he intervene?
(Should he intervene, would Xehanort make good on that threat?)
He weaves together several different metal alloys, finds that darkness seems repelled by them; he weaves them into a scrap of fabric, one he covers a mouse with. When exposed to darkness, the mouse survives.
This is a process that takes several weeks; in the meantime they have other things to worry about. The city is abuzz with news of Ansem's disappearance; nobody seems to buy the "trip" route, especially since if Ansem wants vacation, the time needs to be approved. The city officials are concerned; they interview all of them, but return to Even several times. Each and every single time he pretends to be dumbfounded and as confused as they are; after all, why would he leave without saying something to any of them?
Even knows this is his chance to ask for help, to turn himself in, to stop them. And perhaps it's the thrall of darkness, or Xehanort's threat on Ienzo's life, but he denies everything.
On the matter of Ienzo…
The boy's not stupid. He's no longer buying their excuses that Ansem is merely on a trip. He's become surly, distrustful. Finally, they agree to sit him down and tell him Xehanort's truth (really, wouldn't the actual truth be far more damaging to the poor boy? Even can't have him falling apart with the darkness so close, it'll claim his heart-).
He approaches them, his teal eyes making him appear much older than merely eight. "Where's Master Ansem?" he asks.
Even reaches out towards him, but Braig places a hand on his shoulder. Xehanort crouches down to Ienzo's level. "He had to go away," he says.
"Go… away?" He raises his eyebrow.
This breaks through Even's numbness; he turns away and retreats to the window, unable to watch this play out.
"He wasn't well," Xehanort continues. "He's… he's gone mad. He's abandoned us."
Ienzo inhales; it's a painful sound. Even shuts his eyes.
"You poor child," he says. "You've already lost so much-but we couldn't stand to lie to you."
He gasps again, a sound on the verge of a sob; Even recognizes it immediately. He turns, his own heart racing. "He's panicking." He crosses over to the boy, seeing him tremble and struggle for breath. He draws him gently into his arms. "Deep breaths, little one. Count with me."
It takes him a long time to calm down, far longer than any of his nightmares. Even finally agrees to give him a tranquilizer. After this, Even too must lie down for a while, guilt washing around the ache in his heart.
It's too late to get out of this; maybe the best option is to go through? Give Xehanort what he wants? What does he want?
Ienzo is never quite the same afterwards. Like the beginning of his stay, he's next to numb; there's nothing behind his eyes. He does what he's told no matter what it is-chores he hates, calculations the others have no time for. And anything Xehanort asks, up to and including speaking to their subjects. He's gone cold.
If Even can perfect this protective fabric-if he, too, can learn to use darkness-they'll go far away from here. He holds himself to this grimly, even as the darkness tempts him, calls to him, makes him want to push their subjects farther, past the threshold of inhumanity, even as he does so. This will end. Go through, not out.
It says a lot about the state of Radiant Garden's affairs, that the officials never seem to connect them to the missing people the way Ansem did. Or perhaps they're too terrified-not that Even can blame them. Braig, Aeleus, and Dilan take rounds, experimentally; they confirm that no one comes near the castle gates, when before visitors would come in and out for all sorts of different reasons. The staff, too, seem to be disappearing. It takes Even too long to realize this is where their remaining subjects are coming from.
A bastion of darkness settles over them all.
"I'm afraid it's inelegant," Even says at one of their roundtables; Ienzo sits with his eyes focused on the middle distance. "But it's something." He lays the bolt of fabric onto the table. It feels odd, not quite like any fabric he's encountered, but like anything else it's synthetic. It originally was white, but the chemicals seem to have reacted, and now it's black.
Xehanort runs his hands along the fabric, a small smile lighting up his face. "Oh, yes. This will do perfectly."
They fashion lab coats with it, clothing and shoes. Even hoped that the layer of protection would help with the thrall, especially with the rest of them, but he still feels it, pulling him deeper into a place he swore he'd never go, a place below ethics, below morals. He barely bats an eye when Xehanort suggests they examine children's hearts. He wonders-hopes-that whatever Xehanort discovers can help Ienzo.
Which is why he shouldn't be surprised when it actually begins happening with those kids, when-
"Dilan, I will not stand for this. He is too young to consent." He's trembling.
The man's violet eyes are cold, empty. "We've treated Ienzo with respect. I think he deserves a say. It's only fair. He is different than the average child. I think it would make the data quite fascinating."
"I will not allow it." He tries to hold to this feeling, to use it to dig himself out of the pull of darkness. He used to despise this paternal instinct, and now it's all he has left.
"...You've grown too soft for the boy." Dilan sneers.
Even lowers his voice, all too certain that little pitchers have big ears; Ienzo, in the corner, gives no indication that he's heard them, but that's about meaningless. "It's shocking that you have no respect for his wellbeing," he spits. "After all this time."
"Of course I respect it. That's why we would get his consent. "
Even shakes his head. "I will do everything in my power to prevent this."
"I figured you of all people understand the work we're doing," he replies, with equal venom. "We must let go of such paltry bonds, to rise above. To do the work we're meant to. Whatever tenderness you have for him is useless. I suggest you get rid of it." He scoffs and leaves the room, the lab door sliding shut behind him.
They make another discovery, perhaps the most disturbing yet. (Is any of this disturbing anymore?) For the first time, one of the Heartless leaves behind a body. But instead of being wreathed in darkness, it's wreathed in grayness, in silver, a sort of matter that's physically difficult for the eye to perceive.
Braig shakes his head. "That's no body," he says.
And Xehanort laughs. "No. Indeed it isn't."
There are fewer Nobodies (Xehanort fancies himself a real poet) than Heartless; they soon come to the conclusion that one must be rather stronghearted for the body and will to exist after death. The others refuse to use that word, referring instead to it as "transformation," but in the purest medical sense it's true. None of these "Nobodies" have beating hearts, organs, or blood; like the Heartless, it's impossible to take samples. They vary slightly in shape, some appearing more human than others, but all looking a bit off, a bit alien, all lacking lucidity. Without asking the rest of them, Xehanort has Braig calmly exterminate them. If there was any doubt before, now there's none. They've out and out committed murder.
Even's surprised he doesn't feel anything. Then again, he feels so little these days other than anger and exhaustion, with pinpricks of concern for Ienzo now and again. Murder seems the least harmful thing they've done.
Something seems to be rising, to be changing. He isn't sure what.
Xehanort again gathers them in the courtyard; minus, he notices, Braig and Ienzo. "The fresh air is so lovely, isn't it," he says. "It does get rather stale down there." Even's no longer accustomed to seeing him in his normal apprentice clothing after all the black. "I have a proposition for the three of you; one a touch more radical than my last."
"It would take little to shock me anymore," Dilan says tiredly. Aeleus just blinks.
"We know now it is possible to separate the heart from the body," he says. "That our stronger subjects had stronger Nobodies… ones more human. We're men of science, of reason; we've resisted the pull of darkness this long, so we're strong. But if we're to continue to work with it… it may make sense, to let go of such things. For our own wellbeing."
"Our hearts," Dilan says incredulously. "That is radical."
Xehanort faces them. He looks, for the first time, utterly exhausted. "I don't feel much of anything anymore anyway," he admits. "And I'm not sure any of us do. What else do we need hearts for, anyway? They are merely things of pain… suffering… they hold us back from what we're capable of." He locks eyes with Even. "I've… figured out a way to do it. One which will not be nearly so painful or prolonged as those of our subjects. Without our hearts… we would be free to travel the realm of darkness safely. We could go anywhere… discover anything. There's a whole World out there, waiting, that nobody knows about."
"Do you believe this will help you with your memory?" Even asks. "Or did you forget this is where that all came from?"
The man smiles. "I no longer care about my memory. This is larger than me. Than us." He pauses, to compose himself. "What do you think?"
Shocking Even, Aeleus murmurs, "I will volunteer myself."
"I will too. I am also feeling numb," Dilan says. "This may very well be… useful, regardless of the consequences."
Xehanort turns to Even, a small smile on his face. "And you?"
"I…" He takes a breath. It would be good, to shed these chains; but is it natural? And how does he know it won't kill him?
If he dies, who will look after the boy?
"What of Ienzo? He's a child, he's too young to make such a decision."
Xehanort shakes his head. "We will not take Ienzo's heart. If he decides, the boy can give it up in the future."
Very well. "Yes… I shall…"
"Excellent." His voice has gotten deeper as he's gotten older. It's almost like gravel. "I look forward to this new chapter in our lives."
But nothing happens as expected.
The majority of that day is a blur to Even. They are examining their subjects' hearts, pulled clean from their bodies and trapped in pods; Even watches Dilan's fingers work across the keyboard in the computer room. Ienzo is next to him, standing on a chair, observing, along with Aeleus. Braig is polishing his crossbow, a look of boredom on his face.
All of a sudden there's footsteps. "Were you expecting guests?" Even asks Xehanort.
The man's gold eyes are deadly. "No."
Two teenagers burst into the room; Isa and Lea, the neglected junior apprentices. "We know what you're doing," Lea yells. "We saw the lab, those people. We told the police. They're going to get you." Isa's silent as he meets Even's eyes, his green eyes positively smug.
Xehanort cocks his head. "That so. Very well."
He sounds awfully calm. Too calm. He approaches the boys slowly.
Quickly, faster than Even can perceive, Xehanort moves, and all of a sudden the boys are on the ground, darkness slowly encroaching them. He grabs Ienzo's hand, he's not sure why. "That was not necessary," he says slowly. "They're apprentices, they could've seen reason."
"They only became apprentices to expose us," Xehanort says.
"They're the ones who ransacked the lab," Dilan says, with realization.
Braig looks up a moment from his polishing, sees the bodies, and resumes, numbly.
"Now is as good a time as any," Xehanort says. "Don't you agree?"
Dilan sighs, powers down the computer. "Quite."
Even feels something for the first time in weeks; panic, and a deep, instinctual sensation that this isn't right. He takes Ienzo's hand; Ienzo's gone still with fear, seeing Isa and Lea convulse in an odd silence. "The boy…" He says. "He shouldn't have seen-" And then there's a cold knowledge.
Xehanort has lied to him.
He draws Ienzo into his arms, tightly. The traumatized boy doesn't fight him. Xehanort, so deftly, pierces Aeleus's chest with a Keyblade- when did he get that? "You fools," he says, and his voice is trembling. "What are you doing?"
Xehanort sneers. "Don't act like you don't know."
He's not sure why, but he tries to run; Ienzo's gotten heavier over the years, making it more difficult than it used to be. Dilan trips him, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Even throws his body over the boy's, like a shield; the boy's gasping in shock. "Take me," he yells. "But don't hurt the boy!"
The three of them close in on him. Even braces himself, clinging to Ienzo.
Xehanort's gaze is pitiless. "The boy should've known better than to play in darkness."
The tendrils descend upon him, upon them. It's not painless as he's said, but perhaps the most agonizing thing Even's experienced, his cells changing on a molecular level, everything coming undone. He's still somehow awake, somehow able to meet Ienzo's horrified eyes; he can see the darkness crawling over the boy as well. If anything, trying to protect him made him Xehanort's victim all the faster.
Ah.
In his last moments of consciousness, he feels the tears in his eyes, cold as ice.