Destiny

His boots landed on the final stair.

Black and white chains wrapped the door, as if consciously protecting something precious. Behind Vanitas lay marble white stairs floating in an infinite void and head spinning at the sheer drop, he experimentally tugged the intricate padlock on the door.

Time to employ orthodox tactics.

Void Gear, summoned in a flash of purple flames, angled its turquoise eyes at the padlock. Vanitas brought it down and the resounding clang echoed glumly. The lock refused to buckle and after a continued assault, Vanitas frowned. He froze the lock, struck lightning on it and blasted the door with his specialty, a triple dark firaga. To his mounting irritation, the lock gained not a scratch to show for his efforts at destroying it.

Curious, he dismissed his blade and studied the lock intently.

It showed a tiny crown at the keyhole. A crown? Perhaps the King could open it? Did Castle Oblivion belong to the previous King before Organization XIII claimed it for their own? He twisted backwards, to the ethereal flight of steps. The ivory and blinding purity. The tall, ceremonial thrones he demolished before Zexion knocked him unconscious...

Perhaps it did belong to Kings of old.

Jiggling the lock, Vanitas squinted into the keyhole and met with darkness and the faint smell of iron and something sweet. Like flowers. "Light," he muttered. "It opens with light..."

"Correct," Zexion agreed, dropping his sneering persona for a more authentic politeness. "Superior searched the castle for this chamber, we couldn't find it. It's called the Chamber of Waking." Vanitas stepped aside to let the nobody examine the lock. "I can mimic the action of light… and it's not working." The padlock smugly refused to pop apart. "Let's leave," Zexion reluctantly advised. "We can't open it."

Standing before the intricately engraved door, Vanitas refused to budge. He'll be damned if he left without setting a foot in this space Organization XIII searched for so long. Pressing his thumb against the keyhole, he leaked darkness and yelped in surprise when the lock dissolved in a flashbang of light.

"It... worked?" he exclaimed and the doors swung apart. "Zexion, I'm going inside," Vanitas called and received no answer. The nobody vanished.

Scoffing, he cautiously entered the chamber and greedily inhaled the aromatic tint of wind and pine trees. A single throne occupied the room. Chains dangled from the ceiling and lay on the floor in haphazard heaps. Sigils, similar to the ones on the door, carved the pristine white walls and Vanitas silently halted before the ornate chair. He ran his hands across the alabaster seat, mildly surprised by its warmth.

Recurring emblems and flowing script in an archaic language started at the base of the headrest and continued up and up. Vanitas sat in the throne, strangely calmed. He leaned back and closed his eyes, lulled into a much needed sleep by the soft silence.

Bright blue eyes stared at the point where land kissed sea. Waves lapped over tiny feet and a sand encrusted bucket hung loosely in a pudgy hand.

"Benitas, help me," Sora whined and patted his crude sandcastle with a plastic spade. His raven haired twin gazed at the horizon. "What are you looking at?" Sora demanded and toddled to where Vanitas stood, ankle deep in the sunlight dappled water.

The two children burst out of their home and raced across the sand, trying to be first at the beach. Distracted by a seashell, Sora dropped out of the impromptu race and dug it out while Vanitas crowed and filled his bucket with wet sand. Selecting a place not too far from the sea salt waves, he upended his bucket and shaped a castle while his brother combed the beach, bringing back pieces of whittled driftwood and pebbles to decorate their sandy palace.

Seagulls wheeled across the sky, squawking a cacophony. The paopu palms gently shook their leaves in the briny wind, clusters of bright yellow, star shaped fruit hung from the branches.

Satisfied with the vague shape of a castle, Vanitas clawed a moat and filled it with water. The water seeped into the sand and created a gritty trench instead. Sora, armed with pointy seashells, impressed delicate details on the sand towers; steps, windows and scratch marks serving as bricks.

Dark clouds amassed on the horizon and Vanitas pointed. Sora, a periwinkle snail stuck on his flabby little upper arm, lost interest in the wheeling gulls and squealed happily, tackling their mother into an embrace. Bristling, Vanitas bit his lips and the dark clouds broke, scattering into smaller shapes. A pair of strong arms lifted him from the water and he squirmed.

"How's my little king?" Father pressed his face in Vanitas' damp, salt streaked hair. "Hmm, what are you looking at?" he asked and pressed a kiss on the child's forehead.

"It's black in the sea." Vanitas scowled. "Mama!" he shrilled. "I want to go to Mama! You pick up Sora." He kicked and his father warily held the screaming child away from his chest.

Orange outline trees peeked from behind the palm groves and Vanitas petulantly nibbled on his egg salad sandwich. The checkered picnic blanket held a vast array of foods; favorites like chicken nuggets and slices of pineapple and stuff which belonged in the bin like the dark, bitter liquid his parents sipped. When their attention turned to a nearby beach goer, Vanitas shoved his sandwich in Sora's mouth. He snatched a pineapple from the plate and innocently bit into it when their mother looked back and helplessly smiled at the mess on Sora's cheeks.

The dark clouds kept on coming.

He hated how much he had in common with Papa. Mama and Sora couldn't see those clouds above their heads, nor the black ghost thingies which sometimes roamed their town at night. Once, Vanitas tried explaining the tangerine trees which unexpectedly popped at the beach.

"How do they look?" Sora asked. Watermelon juice dribbled down his chin and on a crown printed bib.

Impatient, Vanitas finished his slice of fruit and wiped his face, smearing juice on his forehead. He started on his brother's share. "It's... it's," he faltered, "big and has leaves everywhere." He gestured with his hands.

Sora offered his last piece of watermelon to Vanitas and went back to making a tide pool while Vanitas fumed at not being taken seriously.

"It stinks!" Another time, Vanitas stumbled upon a surprisingly detailed setting. A road cut through the beach and the acrid smoke stung his nostrils. More weird trees hedged the roadside and he strutted through it. Will these things solidify one day? He hoped not. The beach belonged to him, Sora, Mama and Papa. Mostly to him. A few minutes after playing around the semitransparent trunks, he stumbled on his father, standing at the edge of the road and brows furrowed pensively. "What's this?" Vanitas questioned, tugging on his father's pants. "Up," he raised his arms, "I want to see."

Beyond the canopy of pumpkin-orange trees, building stumps rose out of the sea. "It's another world," Father said. "We think we are the only people in this cosmos, but there are millions of micro-planets and possibilities." His cerulean irises shone and Vanitas, suspiciously quiet, watched the lazy smile lighting his father's face. "Not everyone can see them. Sometimes," the brightness in his expression dimmed, "people don't believe the things they don't see."

The child yawned.

"Hmm… I guess I'm boring you-"

"Throw me to the sky," Vanitas interjected and screamed gleefully when his father obliged. He went up again, past the treetops and clapped for the winking sun, descending into the ocean and staining the waters an ice-cream pink.

The road and trees vanished after a few weeks and Vanitas missed them. One eternity later, the clouds began their slow march across the horizon, covering the clear blue with their black, sticky mess and masking the fresh sea breeze with a disgusting reek.

Rain battered the windows and bored, Vanitas screeched at his chosen raindrop to win the raindrop race while Sora sucked on a homemade candy and pored over a jigsaw puzzle. The roof groaned and their father sat at his desk and observed the freak, regional storm with an unnaturally solemn gaze.

"Mama, I want to play outside," Vanitas wailed. "I want to bath in the rain."

"No. You're not going out and if you sneak out I'll smack you," Father growled and both children froze. Near tears, Sora protectively hugged his fleecy blanket and retreated to the living room while Vanitas obstinately pressed his face against the windowpane, its cold numbing. "Vanitas, come here," Papa instructed and begrudgingly, he peeled away from his station and crawled in his father's lap. "The rain is dark, can't you see?"

True. Wherever the black water landed, it hissed. A screen of steam covered the beach and multitudes of clashing ripples spread on the surface of the calm ocean.

He pressed his cheek against his father's chin. "But I'm bored!" Vanitas drawled. "It's boring. Boring! I've been stuck inside for the entire day!"

The roof tore apart with a violent gust of wind and... claws? His mother shrieked and Sora gathered his precious puzzle pieces before the wind flung them away. Vanitas cheered at the unexpected development. He weaseled out of his father's hold and hurtled for the ceremonial swords proudly displayed in a glass cabinet. The monster-thing reached inside and squealing in terror, Vanitas tore the weapons from their stands, stumbling under their weight. He shakily crossed the rain slicked living room to his father.

"Get back here!" His mother shouted and hoisted him. The lacquered weapons clanged to the floor. "Sora, baby, come here." The brown haired boy dragged his blanket along and wrapped Vanitas with it. Two children hugged to her chest, Mama streaked out of the house as the walls collapsed with a deafening explosion. She shivered, narrowing her eyes in the curtain of rain and hugged her boys tighter, planting kisses on their wet foreheads.

"Papa?" Vanitas timidly asked and his eyes widened. "Mama!" he hysterically cried. "Mama, the sea... the ocean, it's falling. Mama," he writhed, "get away!"

The ocean split in half. Torrents of water gushed down and evaporated in a thick, milky cloud of steam. Spirals of darkness converged into a hole in the sky, uprooting palm trees, folding the water backwards and slurping the sand like a vacuum.

Heart beating in her throat, the mother moved backwards and another call of alarm from Vanitas saved her from plunging into a chasm. Her children gripped her blouse and hung on for dear life. Vanitas hiccupped, tears streaming down his face. He shouted for his father and wiggled. She warned him to keep still, but her raven haired son kept moving till he slipped out like an eel.

"Vanitas! Vanitas no! Come back here." She kept a vise grip on Sora when he started twisting. "Papa will be fine!" The ground trembled and cracked in several other places and she crashed to her knees, her cheeks stinging from the acid rain and tears.

Late afternoon

Destiny Islands

Beach

An earthquake.

The world tossed and turned. Fighting from his mother's rib aching embrace, Sora tumbled to the ground, surprised when instead of sand, his feet touched hot and sharp jutting stones.

A rumble echoed in his ears and the beach shuddered. Several meters away, his home lay in a rubble of bricks and cracked wooden beams. Not only his home, Sora blinked the rain driving in his eyes and clutched his sodden blanket, all the homes, destroyed in the way the sea destroys his precious sandcastles.

His mother keeled over, her eyes ghostly dull. Sora stroked her hair. "I'm going to get Banitas," he muttered and waited for her to nod. "Mama?" he kissed her cheek. "Mama?" He tried again, pressing his mouth against hers, the way his father sometimes did when waking her up. "It's okay, you can sleep." He squeezed the water out of his blanket, but the continuously falling rain soaked it again and giving up, he placed it over her shoulders. "I'm going to get Papa too," he stated and threaded his way across the ruined beach.

The sand hurt his bare feet and gusts of violent air pushed him sideways. Tottering on determinedly, Sora crouched, hands over his ears when lightning flashed across the dirty clouds choking the sky.

Thunder roared, loud enough to rattle his organs. Quivering, he waited for the ear splitting sounds to cease. The ocean long disappeared underneath a sheet of greyish stone and weird bricks showed through the cracks in the beach and chafed his soles. Sora paused when the palm groves vanished and he ignored the bizarre reality when his house, broken beyond repair, grew lighter and lighter.

He reached his brother. Pale, limp Vanitas, lying on the beach with a thin trickle of blood from his nostrils. Sora pulled his wet shirt and wiped himself, dread wormed through his bones. He prodded Vanitas, who refused to complain and hugged his brother.

Why is he so cold?

"Benitas?" Tears, which stopped running for a split second, prickled his eyes again. "Benitas?" Sora whimpered. Why isn't he ranting his hedgehog head off? "Look at the sky." Sora shook him. "The rain is stopping."

He put his ear against Vanitas' chest and heard nothing. Sora pressed his brother's stomach and checked for the bird fluttering in a cage sound once more before sandwiching Vanitas' hand with both his own.

His brother's eyelids flickered as the world around them changed. Street maples and oaks replaced the tall palm trees and the silky sands of the beach transformed into tar and asphalt. A car skidded at the two bedraggled children and the driver swerved, narrowly missing a light post.

"What happened?" a crowd gathered around them. Twins. Dressed in miserable, wet clothing.

"Who are these kids?" More cars and people arrived. The earthquake continued, sand and beach tumbling.

Tumbling.

"Please let me through." An elderly man dressed impeccably in a blue, two piece suit dappled with stars, pushed forward. "Sora? Vanitas?" he called and the brown haired child defensively pulled his brother closer. "Ah, you two have grown," he said.

"I want to go home," Sora insisted, head whipping to Vanitas who fully opened his eyes. "Venitas?" he fussed, frightened. "Can you see?"

The elderly man crouched next to them and Sora began crying, sobs wracking his entire body. He plopped on the street and screamed at the sky. "Shh child, don't worry, your grandpa is here to make everything right."

Grandpa?

He cradled Vanitas. "Let's go home," he straightened his old fashioned felt hat and scooped Sora in the crook of his elbow. "I'll make you a nice, hot cup of milk and cinnamon."

"And cookies," Vanitas croaked. "Butter cookies." He rested his head on the man's shoulder. "You smell like Papa."

Quiet, Sora eased his rigid stance, melting into the stranger's warm embrace. Tired lay thickly on his eyelids and they drooped as he struggled to recall the series of unfortunate events since the morning. How did a sunny, sandcastle making day turn out to be like this? He inhaled deeply.

Grandpa Yensid really did smell like Papa.

06:25 p.m.

Wright and Co. Lawyer's office

Office

The virtual assistant chomped a digital cookie with its shark-teeth and sat on a folder, legs dangling. It hooked files from a portable drive with a fishing pole and dragged them to the smart table's storage space. "More cookies?" he hopefully asked and grinned diabolically when Sora gave him another one to demolish. "What should I do after I'm done copying?" the speech bubble atop his head prompted.

Discarding a file, Sora swiped the screen. "I've organized your data in these documents," he explained to a baffled Apollo. "When you want to view them on your laptop, double click the icon and it will come up. Try it," he urged.

Suspicious of the volatile avatar which verbally abused him when he accidentally launched the wrong software, Justice double tapped the document and it loaded, the information neatly grouped under the case identification numbers. An appendix of high quality pictures accompanied the written pages. Shutting the document, Apollo manually copied the files onto a pen-drive, tensing for an angry outburst from the assistant.

Instead, the spiky haired avatar congratulated his senile brain cells for finally completing a basic function, before kicking the pen-drive off. A message popped on the taskbar, Drive successfully ejected, and Apollo unplugged it, his sense of accomplishment diminishing when Sora distractedly tapped the screen, earning a volley of rough remarks.

"Something is bothering you," Apollo commented and Sora's gaze flicked to the golden bangle. "I don't need to sense it," he defensively stated. "It's all over your face."

The weeks following Vanitas' kidnapping morphed Sora into a brooding associate who preferred to obsessively work in his office instead of joining the team at lunch hour. Overflowing folders stuffed the chrome bookshelf. As a prank, Trucy and Athena replaced Sora's Level 6 heirloom pens with cheaper varieties but the brunette failed to notice his missing stationary.

"Will you tell me what's wrong?"

Scarf wrapped protectively over his neck, Sora shackled the energetic avatar to the taskbar cradle and forced it to sleep. "…Leon, the KBWA boss, is in a wheelchair," he abruptly revealed. "He can't walk, he's blind in one eye. There are horrible scars running down his face." Sora tapped an icon on the desktop and it opened to the boss, clad in a snug, leather jacket and brown hair parted messily across his forehead. "I mean, he's handsome isn't he?" Apollo agreed. "Now he's just... just... it's horrible. He has trouble speaking."

The smart table powered down, greeting its owner in a rich, synthesized voice before going blank.

Playing with his shirt, Sora continued, "I can't get it out of my mind." He scowled. "I asked the vice-chief what happened and she said he met with an accident while returning from a world-wide KBWA conference. And..." he hesitated, "I uh... I feel like he deserves it. Does it make me a bad person?"

"Does wanting to kill him make me a despicable person?" Vanitas demanded, watery irises darting to Apollo.

"Why do you feel like the chief deserves what he got?" Justice questioned and pulled his bracelet off. His phone, along with Sora's, charged in a wireless dock. Athena passed by the door, her ponytail swinging purposefully.

Miserable from the intensive training Nox subjected him to the entire morning, Sora rotated his cramping wrists. He spent the next few hours typing nonstop, to drown the angry whispers in his head. He deserved it. Leon deserved it. The chief can't be bothered about Vanitas, who held him in such high regard. "Because..." Sora mumbled, "he didn't try going to Castle Oblivion. He didn't try rescuing my brother or... or negotiating terms. I think they want me-"

"Why?" cut in Apollo and leaned forward, a sparkly clip glinting on his fringe.

Hands itching, Sora slid the clip out and turned it over. "Organization XIII attacked me before." The aching in his scars stopped. "They want the King dead. I know they want my Keyblade," he nodded to the Kingdom Key replica, "because it's a vital component in furthering their goals. The last person to wield it was Ventus." Sweet, sunshine boy Ventus, warped by centuries of memories; who laid to rest more people than Sora or Vanitas ever met in their lives. "They took Vanitas as leverage, but the Association doesn't want the exchange because let's face it," Sora chuckled harshly, "there is a replacement for the Black Saint, but hardly a replacement for the King.

"And it makes me angry for thinking this way. I know Leon needs to keep the KBWA's greater interests in mind, but I don't want Vanitas to be a sacrifice," Sora lamented, folding in on himself. "I wish they'd let me go. Even if I fail to get him back, at least I know I tried." He paused when Trucy poked her head around the door, she smiled and tactfully retreated. "The KBWA stays staunchly neutral, keeping out of government affairs, keeping out of Org XIII's affairs and..." Sora twisted the fabric of his shirt, "it made me a little happy when I saw Leon in that state."

The more Apollo listened, the more complex emotions rose to the surface. "Your best bet would be to trust Vanitas' strength," he slowly stated and Sora broke the clip. Pity, Trucy gave it to him as a recycle-your-plastics-day present. "If there is one thing Vanitas won't take lying down, it's being bent to other people's wills, right?" The associate nodded. "Any more rants you want to clear out of your system?"

He did not account for how much rage the normally placid attorney balled in himself.

"Nox broke into my apartment!" Sora spat. "He destroyed the electric lock. Does the freaking pansy know how much it cost? Does he?" Sora angrily drowned a tepid gulp of coffee before continuing, face screwed into an eerie, Vanitas-esque scowl. "I wonder if Leon had girls running after him," Sora contemplated in a more subdued fashion. "He's an okay guy and... a... a... an excellent boss," he reluctantly admitted. "Though, not as good as Mr. Wright." Apollo grinned tightly. "I know you have your differences." Sora loosened his muffler. "I hope," he blushed self-consciously, "I hope I can be reliable enough for you to tell me your worries."

The smart desk automatically started up the moment Athena barged in, her crescent earring bobbing wildly.

"Is alles alright?" she questioned, gaze swinging like a pendulum from Apollo to Sora, sitting opposite each other; to the unholy stack of dog-eared pages under the table. "You went through a variety of moods in the last five minutes and I became concerned..." she trailed off.

Phoenix entered with a plate of pastries.

"What should I do dammit?" The table beeped dangerously and Sora, in a noticeable better humor, gave the stomping avatar a cookie to munch on. "I'll reorganize your files," it aggressively proclaimed and disappeared between the yellow covers of a folder. "Tch, you don't need this trash." It grabbed the Leon picture file and violently hurled it in the bin. "Heh, reward me with more cookies."

Sliding the floral plate towards Sora who thanked him quietly, Wright perched on the desk. "I'm afraid of your avatar one day jumping out of the table and become a real person," he laughed, eyes crinkling. "Maya ordered burgers for lunch," he deadpanned. "You should come to the lounge, overworking isn't how we do things in this agency."

"Says you who has to be dragged to sleep when working on client cases," Apollo commented scathingly. "You can't deny it. Trucy has a photo of you drooling over my files."

Phoenix returned to the kitchen with an empty plate when his daughter bustled in Sora's office, drawn like a moth to candle-flame by the relaxed atmosphere. She plunked next to Apollo and fanned out her cards on the table.

Flicking his attention starved assistant and assuring Athena he was alright, Sora quashed the uneasy butterflies in his stomach and focused on Trucy's magic trick. He picked an ace of clubs and gasped when it transformed into his favorite Level 6 pen. "Where did you get this?" he questioned, craning his neck to the delicate glass penholder on the coffee table. "It's not there? Wait. None of my pens are there!" He clutched tufts of his hair while Athena and Trucy laughed loudly. "This isn't funny, one of the pens was a present from Mr. Edgeworth!"

Another card revealed another precious pen and Apollo excused himself. Athena sat in his place and implored Trucy for a second magic trick. "The stresse is making my hair fall out," she complained. "I've got a case and Gavin is the prosecutor. I'd rather go against von Karma than Klavier when he is in one of his blue moods."

He'll be fine. Sora gripped the mug in both hands, anxious at how quickly he accepted Vanitas' imprisoned status. He's going to come back.

He can't live without me.

Comforted by the thought, the hard lines on Sora's brow smoothed and he slurped cold coffee.

Mid-morning

Los Angeles

Grandpa Yensid's house

"I don't want to go to school anymore," eight year old Sora announced.

The grandfather sighed. Here we go again.

"You have a huge library and I can study everything from there," the bushy haired, dreamy eyed boy reasoned. The upstairs library, walls paneled in rich, dark wood, first intimidated Sora but he appreciated the silence and whiled away his time there, surrounded by the musty tint of age-old books and head lost in the idyllic clouds of life. "I don't want to go to school anymore," he whined.

Yensid stroked his beard. "I found you reading Mickey's travel journals yesterday," he said. "Did you understand them?"

"Of course not!" Sora flushed crimson when the devil spawn of his brother crowed from the grand staircase. Vanitas jumped down, the stair-boards creaking under his mistreatment. "He's dumb," he snickered, scratching a plaster on his cheek. "Grandpa, I need a handful of nails," the raven haired boy announced. "I'm making a nail studded baseball bat."

His remark gave the old man indigestion. "And why Vanitas," Grandpa articulated slowly and rubbed his reading glasses, "do you need such a dangerous weapon?"

Electric light bulbs hung from the ceiling but Yensid preferred the golden fires burning in glass hurricanes. The flames flickered and Sora scooted closer to him. Laying down his spectacles, he pulled the boy on his lap, inwardly groaned at the growing child's weight, and partly regretted his decision when Vanitas clamored for space.

"Sora came eleventh in class," Vanitas breezily continued as his twin mumbled excuses. "And I came first." He emphasized his position with a puffed chest. "The other idiots started putting junk under his desk, so they need to be taught a lesson," Vanitas stated factually. Like hitting someone with a spiked baseball bat was the solution to life's problems. "Hey Grandpa." He squirmed, holding Yensid's wrinkly forearm. "There's a orange cloud in the house."

The cloud floated across the living room and vanished under the roof beams. "You never told me your classmates were bullying you." Yensid raised his eyebrows at Sora. "Tomorrow, I'll speak to your teachers. You have to complete school if you want to do something with your life."

Would my Mama and Papa want this?

Trudging to class every day, stomach bubbling frantically and praying no one notices me?

Clearing his study table, Sora tinkered with the antique, wrought iron lamp on his desk. Rust gnawed the base, leeching into the polished wood of the table and fingers trailing over the intricate woodwork, he tugged a drawer open and rifled through this comic book stash. Selecting one, he tossed it to the bedside stand, another antique feature conspired from mahogany and brass; and punched his pillow into shape. Vanitas grew unexpectedly sullen after Grandpa confiscated his weapon and leaving his brother to sulk face first into a pillow, Sora climbed into bed and settled on the feather duvet.

Lace curtains fluttered in a breeze. The huge oak tree in the yard shed its leaves and they rustled across the pavement. A pendulum clock ticked in the room and Sora read till the speech bubbles and words blurred together.

An accident.

When he woke up for a split second, the salty tang of the sea disappeared for the acrid reek of exhaust fumes. Funny; despite the accident, Grandpa got up and walked around fine. Why didn't Mom and Dad do the same?

A motorcar accident.

He opened his eyes again. Ladies in white uniforms and starched hats surrounded him. Groggily eyeing the wires in his arm, Vanitas burst into tears. Everything ached. His vision swam. The smell of antiseptic made him sick. He cried for his Papa. His twin brother, a constant companion, remained nowhere to be seen and Vanitas touched his neck.

No necklace.

The authorities kept on coming, a never ending stream of policemen and government officials knocking day and night. The brass knocker on the front door echoed loudly through the house. Bang! Bang! Proceeded by the friendly, too loud, too helpful faces of people wanting to do something for the poor twins who lost their parents in a tragic accident.

It's a wonder we are alive, Vanitas twitched, finding it difficult to sit still. Years later, people still gossiped.

Somehow, the notion of an accident sounded wrong. Bold, scarlet curtains thrown apart to let the moonlight in, Vanitas straightened from his prone position and fussily arranged his army of plush toys. His pride and joy, the single horned, grey dragon, assumed prime position and the other toys joined the back row. Unable to sleep, he tangled his fingers with the silver necklace and idly swung his legs.

The pendulum swung to a rhythm, its golden disk gliding back and forth behind a pane of glass. Slipping off the bed, Vanitas tiptoed to Sora. The first time Grandpa separated them, the twins raised the dead, yelling their lungs dry. When they grew older, Sora kicked up less of a fuss when tucked into bed, while Vanitas waited for Grandpa to read a bedtime story and kiss them goodnight. More often than not, he yanked Grandpa's beard, forcing him to stay longer and longer, till he fell asleep.

Sleep played hide and seek with him tonight.

Cautiously, he picked one end of the cover and glaring at the bed not to make any noise, slid in beside Sora, who smelled of bubble bath. Carefully, he hooked his arm around Sora's neck and froze when his brother woke.

"I remember a monster tearing our roof apart the night of the storm," Vanitas blurted. The lamp on the bedside threw capering shadows across the wall. "The monster killed them..." A pause. "It wasn't an accident. Grandpa..." his expression screwed into a thoughtful frown. "I think Grandpa was away somewhere."

His brother sighed. "Vanitas, you were out cold, it was a car crash," Sora insisted. "I remember my feet hurting from the asphalt. The road was sticky from oil. "We're lucky Grandpa was with us. And monsters don't exist," he exhaled.

"Grandpa asks me about those things I see and you can't," Vanitas stubbornly said. "He can see them too."

The boys became silent when the old house creaked. If Grandpa found them both in one bed, having later than midnight conversations during the week, he will ground them.

"He wants you to feel normal," Sora whispered and brought the covers over their heads. "Honestly Vanitas? Monsters? Want me to chase them out from under your bed?" he teased.

Irately grinding his teeth, Vanitas wrapped his legs around Sora, squeezing him in a vice-grip. "I'm not going back to my bed." He grinned savagely. "If I get grounded, so are you."

Sora's arms around him was a humble substitute for the warmth his father exuded. Curling into a ball, he burrowed closer to his brother and pulled the shining crown necklace from beneath Sora's pajama collar, pressing the two lockets together. Vanitas wracked his brains, filtering through the fuzzy memory of the accident.

Claws ripped the roof apart. A giant shadow thing with a weird hole in its chest bore down on the little family of four.

Since the day his parents died, Vanitas irritably wiped his eyes and checked his fingers; his tears stained everything black.

A shadow fell over him and he woke, blinking sluggishly at the superior.

"Having a good nap?"

For a heartbeat, Vanitas swore the superior's features mellowed, like an older brother amused by the younger's antics.

The bloke in the painting!

"Terra?" Vanitas asked and swallowed in fright when Xehanort frowned.

The superior lazily surveyed the Chamber of Waking. Here he slept, damaged from the wars, cracked from the hopes and dreams people heaped on his petite shoulders. Here he rested, waking to sign his name as the founding member of the KBWA and smiling serenely while painters immortalized his image in a portrait. The Wind Mage and Sea Queen's vivid description of the Earth Titan earned him a place next to them.

As a founder of the KBWA.

Xemnas searched for this place, intrigued by Zexion's description of Clavius opening it with darkness. The boy examined the Master sigils winking slowly in the room and Xemnas joined him, taken aback by the Black Saint's appearance.

"My head feels light." He reached up to touch cheek, which promptly degraded into tendrils of darkness. "Xemnas," his plea tugged at nonexistent heartstrings, "what's happening to me?"

Visitor

Night

Solitary Cell 13

The cloaked figure arrived out of midair and Kristoph shut his book with an irascible snap. "I'd appreciate you being more discreet with your appearances," he advised, pushing up his glasses. "Wright scarcely left, I won't be surprised if he heard you."

Letting down his hood, Xemnas stalked to the bookshelf and scanned its contents. "He heard nothing," the superior reassured. "What is the KBWA's status?"

The attorney's brows knit in mild confusion. Usually, his visitor accepted detailed reports penned in elegant, slanting script and stuffed in a nondescript yellow envelope. "Leonhart is barely alive," he informed. "Tifa Lockhart is the current leader; she is attempting to enlist Fey as the vice-chief but the woman refuses. Lately, the King is diligently alternating between his training and work." Kristoph lowered his voice and impatiently checked his watch, Xemnas shouldn't be here. "The KBWA uncovered your involvement with Trent."

The superior remained silent.

"Other information is contained within this envelope." Kristoph gripped the armrests to prevent his hands from shaking. "You need to leave," he added. "The guards will make their rounds soon."

The cloaked figure picked a bottle of Ariadonny nail polish off the small, round table. "Will your brother be visiting you today?"

Kristoph breathed out through his nose and fiddled with his spectacles. "Probably not, he is entrenched in work."

"Pity," Xemnas sympathized. "He is going to miss you."

A/N: A series of unfortunate events by Lemony Snicket is one of my favorite book series. I probably didn't mention it before but the Vanitas-avatar is designed by Saix (of course)

Once again, read and review. Comments are always welcome.