Left Behind
Set during ?̢̦̲̤̼͖̳͙?͢͞҉͈͖̖̹̟̣?̵̞̱̙͘͞ͅ;
x.x.x
The wind howled. Dust scattered over the cracked, dry soil. Cliffs stretched toward the clouds, carved with dents and crevices. No blue above. Just brown. Endless brown. A sea of keys, chipped, cracked, and rusted. Lifeless. Abandoned. Forgotten, just like the world. How long since that day? Time became a haze. The sun rose. Sun set. An endless cycle. Unbroken. Ever present. Ever since…
Ỵ͝o̢͖̳̗ư̻̬̱̪͚͎̲r ̵̜̲b͙͙̲̻̻o͇̺d̬̟̗̜̞y ͏̠͎̠͎̘s̨̤u̧̲͔b͏̯̮ͅm͎͈͉͎̳̩i̦̮̰̰ͅt̲̭̱̫̘s͚̥̰̟,̧̠̼̘ y̺o̧̖͈ͅu̮r̠̱̥̙͟ h̵͓͕̙͕͖e͉̯̳͙͢a̲͈̩͕̼͙r̭̞̬̬͞t̼͉̩̙̪̩̙̱̠̮̺̗͞͡ s̮͎̜̘̳͖͜u͡c͔̭̣̼̪̯cu̧͖̩m̡̬̙̼b̴̠̮͕̗̫̼̺s̞̣̙̩̪̫̹—͎̦͎̹̙̭̲̪̳͉̗͟s̙̦ó̼̟̙̮͎͍͎ ͈͇̠̹̬̕w̨̻̼͕̱̙h͍̗͉͍̤̞y ͔̤͎͓͈̺̖̗d̝͖̰̜o̗̺ͅe̷̺̟͚̮͙̣ş ͕y̼̠̪̥͙͖͉͝oṳ͖r҉̫̫̺̬̭̺̻̤͜ m̫̬̤͈̺i̼̰n͇͓̟d ̴̠̼̲̘͍̗͖̣͍̪r̮͙͞e͚͍̥͉̯̝s͚͎͔͝ͅi̦͎͇̣͖̯s̖̻̻̩̺͚t̢͇̲?̪̗̘
Why? Why… Because of the connection. The unbreakable connection. Aqua… Ven…
Armored fingers flexed, grasping the hilt of a giant key. The only key free from wear, tear, and trust, its teeth buried in the lifeless soil. But where? Where was the connection? Not here. No, lost. Lost with that man… The man who tried to face the sun before his shadow swallowed him and all was lost. Here in this graveyard where sorrows began… Here, where three friends took their final stand…
And now, who knew? Could only kneel now. Could only dwell on what-ifs. No way of knowing for sure. Who even remained? Just rage? Pure hatred? A broken laugh echoed inside the empty helmet. Too much solitude left room for too much doubt. Too empty to heal. One day, maybe. One day… would set things right…
For them. They deserved it. A happy ending…
And maybe they were still fighting where he had failed.
One night, the clouds cleared. Stars spread in their place, brilliant and bright. Enough to look up, to watch. Almost nostalgic. Dry soil became grassy hills and cliffs. Silence became flowing water. Only for a fleeting moment, then a star twinkled one last time. Faded. Gone. Just black space left behind.
Why, why, why?
T̢͉ḫ͎̩̩̖e͇̠͚̞̼͕͖̘̠͠ l̘̘í̦̘̯̳̦͇ǵ̬̝̜̠̞̪͍h͇́t̺̖̻̫ i̘̙̮͞ş͎ t̰͈͙͇͇̣͖h̡̞͔̘͈͈͇e͈͙̩͉͈̲̱i̜̠̩̖̕r̖̳͍̝̩͢ ̧͚͓h̜̮̮͇é̖ar̷ṯ̨̟͚s͇͔͖̬̟͈̕,̲͙̩͇̩͇̱̖͖͙͔͢a̦ṇ̵d̴̗̗̰̞̀ͅ i̹̺̮̩̼̤̲t̵̮'̡̪̮͔ͅs ̴̰̻͉͍̤̩̮̼̹͓s̺h̭̗̗͓i͕̠͙̜̖̮ni̙̣̘̱n̙̱̕g̢͈̥͍͉̳͔ dow̭̫̞̮͔͝n ̰̲̝̪̳̰̹̤̖́o͎̤ṉ̵̪̦͎̟͍̱̣͙ͅ ú̪̤̯͕̺s̛̫͉̬̠̝̱͍̥̺̥͢ l͖̼̱̖̮͢į͉̺̻̳̝̳̼k̯͓e̛̜̞͉̤͔̯͓̝͙͙͎ à̧̰͙̰̠ m͕̼̠̳̼͕̜i̖͚̮̘̣l͏ḷ̱̱͇͎̪̱i͏̩͎̱̳ͅó̦̗͎n̨ ̯̤͚͎͍͖͏l̖͖̫̫̥͍a̤̰̦̰̺n͔̼̯͇̫͚t̲̘̗͇̻e̻͕͍̹̰̕rṋ͕̬̥̭̕s͍̝̥̭͝ͅ.̥͉̯̭̘͞
So why? Armor trembled. A tremor raced from the top of the helmet to the tips of the boots. No, no, no. Was seeing things. Must have been. Couldn't be real. Xehanort was…
Was…
Where. Was. Xehanort?
Fell on the rocks. Kingdom Hearts flashed. Then gone… But where? Not dead? Still there? No. No, no, no, how stupid. Could have done more, but would have killed the body. Couldn't do that. Had to hope the heart would fight back. To stop Xehanort… Overcome Xehanort… Trembling grew fiercer. Keyblade slashed the dry air.
Screamed his name in boiling rage, but nobody came.
Nothing changed.
Nothing except the stars. On clear nights, more holes appeared. Fewer and fewer lanterns. Not an illusion, then. Something more… Rose from the earth, staggered forward. Tried to touch the stars, but couldn't reach. Too tired. Too empty. Only rage, not enough to save the worlds.
So, more waiting. Always waiting. Stopped watching the sky. Too painful. Slept instead. At least dreams were safe. Could stay hopeful. Nothing changed. All was still until...
Something hit. Something sharp. Something heavy.
Something wrong.
And voices. Pictures. Shadows and claws and eyes and screams and how?
X͔̰̼̕ḛ̵̟̙̩h͚͓̟a͔̠̘̫̦͡ņ̻̲o̴̟̦̟̲͔̗̞r̡̖̥̘̼̼ț̟̰͖͉̯͟, y͇ò̫̱u ͚̗̦̜̙̤͢m̳͉̦͙͖̣͠ͅus̠̯͉̮t̗̦͢ ̼͖̪͙͓̪̺st͎̦͔͇͠o͓̼̻̳̥p̨̱̗̬ t̶͇̫͖͕̳͚̻h͎̪̖̠̙͈̖͘i̭̱̪͝s͞ ̦͖͇͇̹̠͎a͚͍̲̹͇͞ͅt ͉̰̜̜̤͉̪̩̘̥̺͝ͅò̩n̦̻͕̟͕͞ce͍̦̥̙!̺̳̰̲̭̯̠͠ͅ A͜n̳̫̘̻̲̜ͅy̨͈͈̘̙̻̤͜ f̗͖͇̫͖̗͢ù̹̰͚̞r̙̫̞͉̰t͎̞h̯e̳̰͖̜͚̖r̜̞̟̮,̣̗͎̹͈̖́ a̵͈̙̮n̮͓̜͠d̢͔̝̙̻̭̮͕͠ o̜u̯͡r w̩̘̭o͇r͎̼͚̭͔͕l̵̮̠̰d͏̳̟ ̨̭̬̮s̴̯̙͖͕h̬̮͕̘̘̖a͡ͅl̛̹͕̣̖l.̩͔͈͖̹ͅ.̠͎̙̻͍̜.̟̟̼̮̖̞
F̡̤̰͎͔̰̭o͇̣̫̮o̠̮̱͕̱̲̫l̮̟̫̯̘.̴̡̤̤͎̹̦̝̗ͅ I'̺̹̳m̴̻͇̰̣̩͚ n͉o̤͙ͅt̢.̙̺̞̳̘͚͟ͅ.̘̤͕.͏̩̯X̤̞̘e̲̰̩̖h̫̦̺͓a͍̮̮ͅn̡̰̹ợr͉̘̭̺̦͞t,̦͖ a͔̣̜̙n̖͇̜̮̟͓̯d̢͓̭̠̬͇̝͓͇ y͙̺͎̭̪̭͘ơ͉̝̘u̶̩̮̳̥'r̰̳e ̬͓̯̭̻̖͔n͎͓̦͕̩ͅo̶̟̝̠͉̬̣͓͖ ḿ͎̹̝a͓s̢̘͉̬̻͔̭͉t̵̼ͅḛr ̬̤̼͇̮̝̦͘o̴͓̹̲f̨ ͓͙͍̺̠͇͘ͅm̠͠ͅi̳̠̺͔̞ǹ̥e̛̪̖̫.̙̯͈̬̞͎̩̰͖̬̣W͔͙̲̩̩̣̕h̞̙̩y̰̖͡,̧͈̖̹͝y̳̩͙͔͙̠͡o̵͙̜͓ͅu̦'̟͎͔r̺̥͕e ̶̺no̷͇͔̬t ̶e̝͇̹̣̝͡v̜́e̢ņ̤̥̠ w̳͉o̵r҉̰͔̳̲̭̬t̼h̟͓͎̦̫̱y ̱͕̯̯̬̳͓̙̼́o҉̟̟f̢͓̗̤ y͏͓͙̙ͅo̯̯̬͕̯̭̖u̡̺͓̟͖r ͇̗͎̞̱̞̺ͅn̨͈̮̦̳͖a̶m̺̳̞̺è͇͍̦̩ ,̱͜͠l̥ḙ̥t̢̻͓̝̮͖ a̭͉̪͎̘̣͙lo̟͕n̲̟e ̯͕͞y̺o͈̖̱̳̼ͅu̡͕̫͓̩r̬̤̠̖̞͉̻͟ t̗͖͈̻ͅi͜t͓̼͉l͎̫̣̘͙͇̹e̞̲̪.̷͍̰̣.̦̝͉̪̜ͅ.͢
Shivered. Shuddered. Why…?
S̟͎͈̠ǫ̶͓̞͈̼̼̗͎̬ t̨̪̝͙h̭̝̘͚̟i̫̤̰̜͙s͉͖̞̝̮̘̠ i̡͖͚̺͇s̖̬̼̲̝̱̪͏̰̭̳̰̳̺ w̵̞̼͎͍̪̠̞h͢er̳̩e̞̤͇̟͓̣ ̨͖i̤t̶̜ a̭̺͟l̗̬̣͢l̴̢̳̻̜͈͓̼̲̞̯͖ḛn̜̺̩͟d̵̰̜͇̬̰̞s͏̞͍.͍̯͕̘̰̥̳͘.̣̮͞.͔͔́T̼͍̱̳͙o ́t̛͕̜̝̻͍h̷̺̥i̗̞̤̙̜n̹̩̰̘k̜̤̝̜̯̜̼͙̯̤ͅ o͏͕͙u̬̞͚͘r̷̳̼͓̜͈͙͔ s͖͚͝t͕ud̛̲̙̤̞i̜̹̩̬͡e̘͔̤̠͍͖͇s̞̥̼͈͕͠ͅ w҉̼̙̳͈̪̻o̻̙̳͎͇̝͞ư̞̪̲̳͉l̙̖̹͢ͅd͎̮̻̪̺͖̞̞̜͝ t̻͓͇̼̯̳a͔̱k̴̟̲͓͎e ̶̢̫ù̘̼̫̩̫s̺̙̭̮̻̦͍͕͡ t͕̺ḫ̞̤̹͓͚̦i̝͇͎͔̜s̪̼̟ ̨f̴̞̱͔a̼̖̱̘͙͠r!
H͍̹̝͚̼́e͔y͏̰!̭̣̬͓ͅͅ Į̣̟̖̰̻s ͉̗̘̮̤̲̥̟͡t̙̥͉̠ͅͅh҉̜i̛̦s̼̩͚͓̤̜̪̬̖͙̠̯ h͖o̜̳̱̮w̵̞̳̖̩͎ yọ̭̲͍̙͉̱͜u ̷̜̼̲̩̠͈̠̼̥w̝̘̝͕͕̰͡a̗̥̪̝͉͙͖͝n̥̤̺t̞͎̰̭e̴͉̱̙͚̪̘̳d̴̩͎̲͚̀ it͈?̡̥̩̺̮̪̲̣̘ X͚͉̩͡e͓͇͉h̡̥͔̟a̶n̛̝̙̫̞ͅơ̦r̟̺̼͎͖̱t!̼̜͕͕̹̲̘̘͎̠̥̜ͅ Y͏͈̤o̰̺̥͓̰u͉̟̱҉̻ w̙̩̬ḁ̯͡n̹͟n҉̖a ̹̦̠f̘̝̬i̥̞̫̬l͓̻̪ͅḽ ̫̕me̢̼̻͡ i͙̫̮̫͕ṇ͓̞̞?̢̖̜͚
No…
Ț̹e͖̫̙͈̗̹̥͜r̛̰̠͖̖̯̹͖̞r̪̥̳̯̗ạ͇̩̮̲̳̩͘ͅ? ̶̤̙̺͈͖̥͎̣̝̗̖͇͙ͅD̖͙̲̯̻̭͈͉o͔̼̣̰̻̳͍͈̕͞n͎̦̪͝'̧̫̣̠̲͔͢t̨͍͔͔͖͔̝̳̀ b̜͚̰́̀e̶҉̟̻͎̮̟͔͏̝̗͇̻͎͓̬̀ a̼͎̰͢b̲̼̯̳̰͉́ͅs̴̤̹̰̯͜͜u҉̤̦̺͖̼ŗ̯͔̟̦̼̝̼̩͝d̶͏̲͈̳͍͕̖̪̪. ̷̵͍̘̩͕̩̲͎̥̭͠M̷͔̟̻̯̩̗͞y̴̷̭̻͙̺̥͖̣̻̩̰̤̕͞ͅ ṋ̨̣̝͓̜̺̳͉͝a̡̲̙͢ṃ͍̫͎̕ḛ̢͉̬̤͚̯̹̦̜͇̕̕͜͟i̷̩̩s̪͖͖̥̼̭͞.̨͔̰͢.̧̭͕̦.̢̻̠̹̻͈͟͝A̷͝҉̺̻̺ͅn̩̫͙̠̻͘s̶̴̢͕̦̣͕͖͇̥e͡͝҉̗̫̖̭̤͍m̰̪̤͟͢.͏̻̗.̨̳͇̠͉͢.̡̹̺̤̖̮̯̰͈͖̀
W̪̱̤e͔̜̜̥͇͕ͅl̗͘ḷ͇,̮̻͖̣̤̩͈̤̹ Ì̻̟͖̳̥̭̼̻̲ d̷o̖̠̠̙̘ͅͅn͔̩̺̭'̫̘̤͇̟̻̱͢t̡͍̖͓͖͉̮̺ b̩̤̺̦u̴̟̱̤̱̖y̞̩̳̳͖̙̻̜̫͙̖͍̱͘͟ i͙̘̬̞͉̬t̻̰̞̥! ̵̤̫̯̞̪̙̜͖̗͉̘I̗̭̞ ḳ̺̞n͔̻̟̬̯͝o͚̝̰̕w̝̝͚̘͍̟ t͎̠̭̘̥̭̠h̦̱̦̠̙̼e̱̰̺̙ͅr̥̩̬̻̫̳͖e̷̗̠͎̟͔ͅ'̦͈̬͙͉͔̬s ̥͎̝͍̦̩a ̖̩̮̟̜̝͘p͇̪̱͍̻͘a̯r̙͕̝̳t͏̢̜͇̘̗̙̻͙̖ o̰̯̣͡f̗̹̗͟ ̗̤̲͈̹̕y̡̹̥͚̞o̜͇̩͉̤͠ͅu̢̻̱̞̖ t̘̻h̨̖a̼̱̺̦͚͍t̠͇͍͔͉͟ r̘͎e̫̝̪̞̫̩̯m͍͡e̛̟͚m͈͈̼͞b̢e̡̼ŗ͕s̴͕͈̠͚̻͇͇, ̨͙̟̺̼͇b͈̝u̼̝̤̟t͇̦̗̠̼̖̱͉̺͞ i̢f̗͓̻͉͠ t̤̺̻̟̺͞a̗͓͖͚̬l̯̦̣͔̱̕k͕̗̮i̪͕̹̣̹̺͝ͅn͎͞g͖̪̦̥̘̘͢'̶̭̪̣̰̲̖͍s ̛̮̠͉͇̤̤̠n̢͇̙̻̬̯̼̬o̻̝̟̱̲͕͞t ̲͇̦͖͎͔̩͇̫̣̟͘g̭̠͘o̭̹nn̯͈̥͜a ̨̳̙̦̭c̘̬̗ut̠ i̭̹͉͇t̬͕̯̗̮̝̖́,̼͓͇̘̦̞̫̪͉͓̦̣̬t̼̠̘̥̖̀h̲͎e̛̬̹̟̣͙n̵̞̗̙̤̣͇̭̦ͅ I̥͙̰̫ gu̼̪͚͙e̝̲͎̲͖͞s̷͔̫s ̱͇̱͉͓̱͓͍͟w̖e̙'̦̤̰͓͔̣͘l̨̫͓̘l̢̮̥̹̯ h̪̤̟͚̟͖̗a̰̰͘ͅve̠̺̪̪̩͉̕ t̘̦͠o̵̬͕͎̝̼̖ͅ d̵̼̦͇͓o̯̬̲̱͈̲̠̱̩͍ t̥̤̘h͓̠͉̩̤i̙̰s̰̩̼̺̹͍̙͞ ṱ̱̞͔͖̣̀h̟͖̖̙̤͡e̹͚̠̯̗̱̠̠͎̯͓͘ h̩̞̟͟a͕̗r̗͈̳̞̬͇ḏ̼͓̥̩́ w̹ay͓̙.҉͉̘̮̰
What did this mean? What happened? Why now? What did this mean?
Voices grew faster. More muddled. Couldn't make it all out. Colors blurred. Nothing made sense. Nothing except one final voice…
T̝̟͔̪̥̞͕o͍̗͕̬͕̳̕o̧ ͕͖̞̮̪̭̰m͉u̴͕̖ç̩͖͇h̠̯̫͈͈̤.̬̯̮͈̯̼̀.͡.̛͎͈͈̞̩ͅ I̱ͅt̕'̷͈̫̙̺̭̞s ̻t͙͓͉͓̪oo̦̱̰͍̜̰̤͢͝ mu͙̤̬c̬̦͚h.̪̭͉̥̩͚̣.͉͚̠͓̳̰̘͞.̵̹̙̹̗̫͍̗͟I͕͇͖̼̠c̘͇͍̬͔aͅǹ̺̝͓'̙̼͔̩̞t̹̲̠̩̀.̪͇̞̯̮̝ͅ.҉̺͖̺͇̲.͏ ̦t̘̻̥͟a̢͔̙̣̘͔ͅk̗e̴̠̠̟̤͚ͅ t̢h͙̖̪̫̪́is҉̺ a͉̻̘͓n̵̬̗̱̙̱̠ym̜͝o͏̭r͔̝̰e̡.͈͉̮.͈̣͚͝ͅ.̘̰
Then it stopped, if it had ever started. If it was anything more than a dream.
In solitude, it was rather difficult to tell. The mind could only handle so much isolation before it cracked. Doubly so for beings comprised of broken dreams and unbridled fury.
But sleep came easy when the nightmares refused to appear. Nothing ever changed. Stopped standing altogether after a while. Only kneeling. Only waiting. Waiting in an empty realm, until…
Laughter. "Now that's just sad…"
A voice. No. Nobody ever spoke. Nobody ever came. Just a graveyard. Must have gone crazy. Hard to stay sane when only hatred remained, but the ground crunched and shifted. Not alone after all? Lifted head from bowed position. No stars, just sun through the clouds. Dust blew all around. Everything hazy. Everything brown…
Brown except for one black smear, growing closer. Closer… Still kneeling, just watched. Maybe an illusion, maybe real. Couldn't tell. Still just black.
"Wow. You've been on your own for who knows how long, and you're giving me the silent treatment?"
Voice… voice… Whose voice? Words registered, but who? Grip tightened, so tight it could crush the Keyblade, but it refused to break. The smear moved closer.
"Heh. You're more broken than I thought."
Still nothing. Why? Who, who, who? A metallic echo reverberated inside the helmet, a mockery of a voice long unheard. Who… who are… is this… Xehanort?
"That'd be great, wouldn't it? You'd get your perfect revenge. You could channel all that rage, if you've even got any fight left in you." Circled around and around and around. "But I'm not convinced."
Xeha… nort… Xeha…nort…
"Whatever helps you sleep at night."
Sleep? Heh. You'll… be the one… sleeping this time. Forever if I have my way! Finally stood up. Finally raised Keyblade. Slashed at the air, knees bent. Would glare, but couldn't. No face. Just rage.
The… whoever it was gave a slow, mocking applause. "Now that's more like it."
Couldn't take it. Charged. Rushed at the unknown. Slashed and hacked and thrust and slammed. Cried out in fury, but still too slow. Smear disappeared. Reappeared far away. Laughed. Spread arms as if saying, 'Come get me.' Charged after them again, whipping with Keyblade. They disappeared again, then clashed. So much light, even more shadow. Movements a blur. So who?
Chased and chased. Lightning rained, crackling and buzzing. Blasted from cannon. Rocks crumbled. More scars. Target jumped up. So many streaks. Flying and striking and shoving back. Too bright. Blinding. Still persisted. How long? Hard to say. Could only fight and fight and fight and fight…
Eventually, the figure stopped, drifting down from a safe distance. Charged one last time, but they disappeared again. From the top of the cliffs, they called out.
"Not bad for a pile of rust, but I'm still not impressed."
Then nothing.
But only for a while.
Another day, week, month, maybe year, the dirt shifted again. Another smear against the dust.
"You know, I almost feel sorry for you."
Hands trembled. Head lifted. Why are you still here…?
The figure shrugged. "I just felt like it, but let's cut to the chase…"
Good. Another fight. Could handle that. Could release the rage. Could pretend they were Xehanort.
The smear charged like a cannonball. Charged right back. And, oh, the laughter. They just wouldn't stop.
"What's the matter, Master T̶̴̘̬̮͟e̺͙͕͞r͉̖͖̪̘̝̝̺̦r̘̫͎̟̤͠a͕̫̻̕͢? Is that really the best you've got?"
Dashed. Whipped. Dashed, dashed, whipped. They kept flickering in and out of sight. Kept dashing away. Still too fast. Still too persistent. Yelled Xehanort's name. Climbed on glider. Rushed after target. Slammed into cliffs. Rocks crumbled down. Lights orbited around smear like satellites. Lasers trailed them. Disappeared. Struck from behind, teetered over, spun back around. Heard a grunt, but they disappeared.
More streaks. More lights. Skidded backwards. Charged again.
Danced in circles around each other, but eventually they faded from sight. They reappeared on the edge of a cliff, but this time they just walked away.
Another day, a black ball swirled on the same plateau. From within it, another smear, black as the last. Flipped back their hood. Face… hazy… yellow eyes… watching. But empty. Nothing. Was he even there at all?
He looked down upon the wasteland and at the hollow husk of emotions. A flicker of something… recognition, perhaps, crossed his face for all but a moment. Then he laughed, deep, husky, and dry. A shadow of some foregone emotion, ending in an instant. And then, like the unknown intruder, the man simply walked away, through the very same portal that had dropped him in the graveyard.
Could have chased. Could have attacked. Instead, only watched back. Then knelt again. Nothing more to see…
But the solitude didn't last. Of course not. After a while, that nuisance reappeared, leaning against the pile of broken stone from their prior skirmish.
"So… Ever been to an island before?"
Tensed. Made a low grunt, but refused to nod. A faded voice from a faded memory spoke up, though it was scarcely a whisper.
S͎͙̬̪̙͍͉͡o͎m̯̀é̺̩̗̥̰w̹h̩̭̰̱̱è̠r̺̖ͅe ̱͓̳̻̼͔̘͈͈͎͚ͅo̮͔u̯̰̪̙͚̺̺̕t ̗̬̯̮̗̭͎̥̬̜͔t̹̬h̤̟̬̝́ȩṛe,̢̣̬̳͚ͅṱ̴̠h̷e̛͎̯r̰̞̯̘ͅe'̺͖̖̻͝s͕͉̼̙̺͚̩̲ t̨hi͈͈̙s ̭̝͎̯̯̲̻̩̞͈͓̹t͔̪̼̺̻̖̜͟r̛̠̝̪̯͙̠̘e̦̪e̳̖͠ ̧w̡͈͎̤̫̩̹ͅi͔̺̟̣͔̺t̴̯͔h ̳̦͕̮̝̺̗̜̝̤͡͠s̢̫̥͙̝̠t̬̪̭͟ͅa͔̤̱̭ṛ͖̖͞ͅ-̯̠̤s̻̯͈ha̯̣͝p̜̩ę̦͓̗͇̦͕d͔͢͏̣̤ fr͙ͅui̝̠̣̭͓͝t̵̮.̨.̪̬.͉̺̤
"So you do know it…" They pushed away from the rocks, daring to step closer. "The weather's great this time of year. Hurricanes. Lightning… Shadows waiting to tear your heart out…"
What?
"You mean you haven't figured it out yet? Worlds have been dying out for almost a decade without their precious Keyblade wielders to save them." He shook his head. Definitely a he, not a they. "But that's fine, 'cause something tells me things are about to change. Should be fun to watch."
No. It had to be a lie. Couldn't have been ten years. Too long. That was too long. She would have stopped it. She would have saved those worlds. If anyone could do it. If anyone could mend the pain and bring the turmoil to an end…
Looked up. Immediately regretted it. So many black spaces. So few stars left. What if he was right? What if that island had disappeared?
An̺̙d̶͉͇̜̻͇ ỳ̼̰̮̩̘̻o̧̮͕̱̫̫ų̤̰͔̳̬̥҉͕̱̼ ẁ͖͔͓i̞ḷ̗͟l ́͜f̹̮ͅi̶͍̰͎̙n̥̯̘̬̯̜̣͞d̠̤̮̺̘͖̕ ḿ͚̭͍e̹͍̦̩͜,̗̲̣͖̜̬͟f̪̬̩̟̩͈r̞͙̟͕̱̙i͝e̖̫̩͝n̪d͍͈̥ͅ.̳̠̹̭ͅ҉̘ No ͉͈̗̯̰͕͍̳o̮̥̝͓͝c̶̞͍̩͍̻̝e҉a̻͙̮̻͖͉̬n̜̼̝̩ͅ҉̣̥̳̫͓ w̭̜̟̞̯̹̰i͏̭̝͍ll c̲̯̜̦͞ͅo̢͓͉̭̻͚̘͖n̩̘t̬̥̟̠̰͜ą͈͓̳̯͚͚i҉̣̦n̥̘͚͇͉̹̟̲̜͉̘̝͝ y̟͎̜̤͉̬͞o͏͈͍̟ú͕͈̣͙͙͓͇ t̩̗͚h͉͍̹̤̬e͠n͜..̯̥.̷̰̺͔
The boy. The promise. What now?
Wanted to charge. Wanted to strike. Wanted to beat until nothing was left, but couldn't budge. Could only stare. Could only watch another star fade from an ever dwindling sky.
"That's right. Let it all sink in… You failed. You always fail. Why else do you think you're still here?"
Stop…
"Oh, but I'm just getting started." He snickered. "See, I saw the kid you picked out, and that same kid opened the door to his world. He let the darkness in…" Still couldn't see past the smear, still couldn't parse the voice, but something about gave his words the impression that he was smirking as he spoke. "Too bad. Maybe if you weren't such a colossal failure, he wouldn't have doomed his home."
I said STOP…
"Oh, and by the way, Xehanort's still out there, and he started this whole mess."
Bristled. Wanted to glare. Couldn't glare. Still paralyzed.
"Hurts, doesn't it? You three fought so hard, and look at what it's come to."
Couldn't take it anymore. Hoisted Keyblade over shoulder. It extended. It swelled. Light swirled around its tip. Unleashed a blast. Of course he disappeared. Of course he drifted down a few feet away while the surrounding soil grew brittle and black and smoke rose to the sky.
"Heh. Well, I'd love to stick around, but I've got my own plans to worry about, and I'm not about to die to a raging hunk of scrap metal."
Charged again, one last time, but passed through a black cloud and nothing more. Still too fast. Still futile…
And Xehanort survived. Survived for almost ten years…
Should have known. Should have followed. Could still try. Lifted Keyblade, aimed at the sky. The Lanes, the Lanes…
They refused to open.
Of course…
So the rage was all that remained, then, and could never be released unless Xehanort stumbled upon this world. And would he even take that risk? With nothing to fight, that hatred could only simmer. Simmer and fester and bubble and boil. For a while, the armor assaulted the vacant cliffs, but in time, its assaults ceased. A graveyard could never fight back, but a graveyard was all it had. He had? Tough to say.
Was it even Ṱ̣͎̼̖̪̮̀e͜r̢̗r̷̤̮̗̙͔̝a̷̜͈̩̙̗̠͈ at all?
Well, whether it or he was or wasn't, it wasn't as though they could change anything on their own.
The smear, the stranger, the intruder… He practically disappeared. Perhaps he knew he'd be met with an angry assault. Perhaps he'd grown bored. Who knew? Couldn't even figure out who it was. Was their grip on reality so weak that even voices were so unclear?
But I promised… I swore I'd set things right…
If only they knew how.
An eerie calm washed over the armor. Numbness more than anything. The wind swept dust across the land. Some days, that dust would bury them, only to get blown away.
The rage never faded, but without an outlet, it stewed in the pit of the empty suit like a foul aftertaste that refused to disappear even after ingesting new flavors. How many stars had faded? By now, they'd lost count. But some remained. Some withstood the spreading darkness, shining brilliantly as before. So maybe there was still hope…
Maybe that boy would do what Ṱ̣͎̼̖̪̮̀e͜r̢̗r̷̤̮̗̙͔̝a̷̜͈̩̙̗̠͈ couldn't and find a way to right Xehanort's wrongs. And maybe he'd find this lost little world and save the armor, the Lingering Will, from the depths of endless solitude and the insanity it wrought.
But until that day came, they'd wait in isolation, sleeping beneath a fading sky. Sleeping and dreaming of three lost friends, sharing laughter and love, while meteors rained from above.
x.x.x
A/N: This was a highly experimental piece. I've been meaning to write it for a very long time, but was unsure of how to interpret the Lingering Will's mental state. Ultimately, I went for mostly fragmented narration and vague descriptions, as I noticed that in KH2 Final Mix, it can't even tell if Sora is Riku or Xehanort or someone else entirely at first. Its perceptions seem… well, hazy, as I described in the chapter. Of course, this works to my benefit, as it means I can keep things a little ambiguous. ;)
There will probably be at least one other Lingering Will scene here once I'm further into Act 3, but I can't say anything about it yet. And speaking of Act 3, you can expect an update either today (12/13/15) or tomorrow. The chapter's juuust about done.
With that… I hope you enjoyed this little segment. I certainly had fun writing it. Next time… I'll probably do a scene with Mickey meeting Leon's gang, unless inspiration hits for something else. We shall see.