Darkness is the truthful essence of life. Light lies and deceives mankind, pretending that it will help them and be their salvation. When the time comes however, it abandons men and leaves them to their doom, claiming that they are unworthy. Darkness, however, never leaves. It is a constant in life, always by the sides of those who desire it. And it helps them to overcome the deceptive light, extinguishing it in its entirety. And when the user of darkness is no longer strong enough to live in the world, he becomes one with the darkness, absorbed by it to lend whatever power he has to the next in the line of those desiring the darkness. Through darkness it is possible to become immortal, for all that we are is power, and our power goes through an eternal cycle of being given and taken to and from others. And what does light do? It allows us to die in unbearable agony and misery. Those who choose the light fall, and the light lets them fall. Those who choose the darkness reign, and the darkness lets them reign.

            Umbra grinned as his mind recited the words he had long ago been taught. The philosophy he followed had been bludgeoned into his head over the years, and over the years he had steeped himself in their wisdom more and more until finally the darkness chose him to be its next user. And through his newly gained darkness, he saw it. An abomination, a weapon seeking to further the light. He also saw the weapon in its truthful form, the shadow form of it. That weapon of darkness, it had been spawned from the light. Over the years the light of the abomination had lengthened the shadows until they were powerful enough to take form. And now that the abomination of light was gone, and the absence of light was complete, they had formed. As the user of darkness, it was Umbra's job to retrieve that weapon and use it to obliterate the abomination.

            The journey to find the dark weapon had been an easy one. Everywhere he had gone the pull of the darkness, which was so strong in that weapon, had guided Umbra. And now he was in front of the door that guarded the weapon. A keyblade. That was what the darkness called it. It held the power to forever cast worlds in eternal darkness, and revert them to their truthful form.

            Umbra hesitantly touched the massive stone door, and his fingers traced the outlines of the ancient carvings on the door. 'Beware of the ultimate light, for it is quick to abandon and quicker to corrupt.' the carvings read. Umbra then withdrew his hand and placed it atop a single panel before pushing against it. The panel slid easily into the wall and Umbra watched eagerly as the door opened. Beyond lay a room completely entrapped in darkness. Even the outside light could not penetrate the shadows of the room, and it was pure black. There was nothing to see but darkness, and only the most observant eye could see it. A slight change in the darkness. The area in which the keyblade resided. The keyblade was the blackest darkness, and even against the pure darkness it was darker yet. Umbra smiled malevolently, knowing that the day had come in which he could destroy the light altogether.

            He walked across the room, his steps echoing loudly amidst the total silence, and he reached out and grabbed the dark keyblade before losing himself in its power.

            Telum walked into the shrine before sitting down at its center. He set the keyblade down onto the ground, admiring the way it reflected the light. The blade continued to shine brightly, a beacon of light. Telum could see why it was the weapon that would open the door to the light and forever seal away the darkness.

            "I see that you were successful in retrieving the weapon of light." a gruff voice said behind him. Telum smiled faintly before standing up and turning around. Telum easily towered over the man, and his tan skin and youthful appearance contrasted to the man's pale skin and elderly looks. Telum's eyes quickly scanned the man's features. The combed over gray hair did little to hide the receding hairline of the man, and despite the man's ritualistic white robes which invoked a sense of peace, his calloused and scarred face spoke of the battles he had seen in his earlier years. Telum often wondered if he would end up like his father, a man who could only look back onto his years as a warrior, long crippled by the harsh flow of time.

            "Yes, this is indeed the keyblade." Telum then remarked, noticing that he had kept his father waiting too long for a reply. He then saw his father's gaze had come to the keyblade, looking at it, or perhaps through it.

            "How unfortunate. The weapon of light, it has been tainted by the darkness over the course of a thousand years. Telum, only the truest of hearts will be able to use the blade. And through its time in darkness, the definition of true has been blurred. To it, truth is strength. Only the strongest heart will be able to hold the keyblade. Telum, if your heart falters and weakens, even for a second, it will abandon you." Telum paused, silenced by the warning of his father. He looked down upon the keyblade, watching it shine. He began to wonder how such a weapon could be tainted by darkness. However, he had long ago learned not to question his father, who was very attuned to the innate light and darkness within everything.

            Telum then walked out of the shrine, and his father walked behind him, closely watching Telum's steps. After they had walked some distance, Telum found himself on the top of a hill, overlooking a vast plain. The wind blew gently through it, playing with the wheat, which leaned to and from. The plains were known for their tranquility and peacefulness, and Telum had frequented this place for its calming attributes.

            Telum then felt the keyblade react, and its light grew brighter. At first he smiled, thinking that the light within the keyblade was being strengthened, but his expression quickly turned to horror as the light then faded away quickly, going not to its normal state, but fading further until it no longer shone.

            The wheat of the plains began to die.

            He emerged from the temple with the keyblade in hand. He came out warped and twisted by his own darkness, the flow of which had been accelerated by the keyblade. He had become darkness itself, and even the least sensitive to light and darkness could feel his presence. Those who actually saw him witnessed his body being consumed by shadows until he had become nothing but shadows given form, much like the weapon he possessed. Those who saw it were never able to tell others of the event they witnessed. They were struck down by shadows, and the dark being drank from their screams of agony before taking away their hearts altogether, taking away the most basic element of life. They did not die though, they were mutated by the shadows, twisted and corrupted by their power, and they too turned to beings made of shadows. But unlike their corruptor, who maintained his sense of self, they lost all awareness and became mindless beings, seeking in vain to restore their hearts by taking away the hearts of others. A new legacy of darkness had begun.

            The Heartless had come into existence.