Opening Statements: Any of you who know me are going to question my sanity after reading this. However, I'll tell you right now, yes, I realise what I did. I am very pleased with it, too. Mweh.
Thanks much to Megu-chan for the help with the name of this fic; I wouldn't have gotten it right without you!
I do not own Kingdom Hearts. Bah. End of that.

1 — .i.n.t.e.r.v.i.g.i.l.i.u.m. — 1

It was a dark day the streets ran red.

One boy in the midst of the red, a heap of clothing, and skin, and bones, and all the other things that makes up a human.

Blood pooled around the boy; had there been anyone around to notice his trouble, they would have been hard-pressed to find a spot where it didn't completely cover their feet, staining the skin crimson.

One fate that would not let the boy die, not even with sobbing pleas for death, for peace at last in this frantic, chaotic universe.

Two sides of the mirror, light and dark, watched. The light sobbed and the dark cackled, for his journey would be made that much harder.

It was at this moment that Riku died.

.f.a.l.l.

Squeals from the darkness were all that could be heard. 'He died, didn't he?!' cackled one voice, decidedly female, and very old. 'The Wielder died!'

'Perhaps . . .' hissed a second voice, that of a very slippery man. His voice wound about the room slowly, darkly; if there had been life there to hear the voice, perhaps they would have thought of a snake, coiling in upon itself, preparing to strike. 'Of course, those of the Light—' and here he spat the word, as though it pained him to say it— 'have their uses for him, too, do they not?'

'Died, the boy did,' giggled a third voice. This voice was quite unlike the others, in that the speaker seemed to have no sanity left in them. It was hard to distinguish whether the speaker was a boy or girl, young or old. Indeed, the others didn't even try to tell anymore, only calling it a 'she' because of the pitch of her voice. 'He died in his lovely pool of blood—where did the blood come from? Do humans even have that much blood? It looked to be rather a lot of blood, I thought—Do you imagine that the blood was warm? Could he feel it trickling over his cheek slowly as his heart pounded, feel it dripping slowly from lip to lip as he lost all feeling? I wonder if he could taste the blood. What do you think; could he taste the blood? I think he could taste the blood, taste it trickling into his mouth from the lips and gathering into a little pool in his right cheek, until it overflowed and started down his throat. And then—'

'Ugh, is there no way to shut her up?' asked yet another voice. This voice was almost quiet, tight, with an almost snobbish air. When there was no answer (save the insane one's babbling), she sighed. 'I suppose not.'

'Fine, then,' pouted the third voice. 'See if you ever hear me anymore. I'll just sit over here in my corner.'

Silence, blessed silence, covered the room. For about two seconds.

'Ow!' cried the final woman. 'Dark damn you if you're playing with those damned dolls again.'

A giggle. 'Maaaaaaaybe.' The third perked up. 'Oooh, do you think that when he comes down here, the boy will play with my dolls? Shall I start making him a doll now?' Her voice drifted off into a sort of singsong as she continued, 'I'll need more cloth, won't I? Of course. Shari needs more cloth for my dear dolls, dear dolls Shari and Jannon and This one and That one and blood staining clothès and singing and humming and they'll all love their new playmate, won't they Shari? Of course they will, Jannon. You think they won't? They can't not! Because they are mine and they're mine and I'll keep them forever and pooooooooke!'

'OW! Damn you!'

'Silence.'

As demanded, not a sound was heard. All present remembered what had happened the last time someone had disobeyed the Master.

'It is true, what you have heard. The boy is indeed dead.' A slight pause, and the Master continued. 'However, he is not to remain ours. At least, not yet. You have all, of course, heard of the Intervigiliumance? If so, very well. If not, get someone to explain it to you. Alert the others that they will soon be awakened, awakened to the surface. To stop the Intervigiliumance. It is vital to our plans that he is not awakened. Take the body. Bring him here. You will receive instructions upon that time.'

To each present, there was a murmured word of advice. 'I leave to you the care of the boy. I know you will accommodate him well.' A cold laugh.

'To you, I leave the chore of fetching the boy. And let no-one see you and live. I don't want the others to have a chance to touch him, understand? Good.' A long, yellowed fingernail, drifting slowly down one's back, raising goosebumps immediately.

'Your chore, my dear, is to frighten away the boy's 'friends.' It just won't do to have them down here, barging into our work, would it? Of course not.' Two yellowed eyes looked into blackened ones, making the latter shiver in fear.

'Ah, finally, my child. And how are your dolls?'

'Very well, thank you! Shari thanks you and Jannon and this one and that and we bow to our Master.'

'Very good. I believe you already know of your task, don't you? You will be in charge of his course. You know what to do, my child. You've the best ideas.' The Master seemed to go off into his own train of thought. 'Who would have thought one so innocent would be so very cruel and violent?'

'Because I had Master with me to teach me! Master, where is our blood? Shari wants her blood!'

'And so Shari shall have her blood. As will you, Jannon, as well as this one and that one and any you so desire.'

'Master! Jannon needs the blood of the boy, the boy's blood; it was such a lovely garnet colour, and it looked so pretty, splattered all over his pale hair and body, trickling down slightly and slowly and the puddle was so deep! Master, do humans really have that much blood? Do they? Do they? Do they? Do humans have so much blood that they can lay in baths of it with it and drown themselves in it? But humans are too tiny to have that much blood! That one doesn't understand, this one never understood humans, Master! And we need the blood so that Shari and Jannon and I and this one and that one and anyone else can create his doll! Master, can we have the blood? Please? Can Shari have her blood?'

'Soon, child. Soon. However, you must wait until the body has been moved, lest the others detect its presence. Soon, child, you will be in possession of that blood which you long for.'

.f.l.o.a.t.

Though the others were not aware of it, those they did not want to notice the body between them already had. In the realm of light, three figures stood, familiar to all around them. One of the figures was refusing to look into the glass, refusing to see the figure lying in blood below. This figure was sobbing, clinging to another, her face buried in his shirt. 'He can't be dead,' she cried. 'He just can't be!'

The russet-haired boy, a young man by the name of Sora, patted his friend rather awkwardly on the back. 'No, he can't be,' he agreed, trying to cheer her up.

The third figure, the mouse king, was crouching over the glass, passing his hands over it and murmuring under his breath. Quite suddenly, he stood up completely straight, looking over at Kairi and Sora. 'He's not. Not dead.'

Sora heard Kairi gasp as she quickly unattached herself from him and dashed over to the mirror. 'What do you mean? He looks dead . . .' She looked about ready to burst into tears again, so Sora moved closer, looking into the glass.

He certainly looked dead. There was no sign of movement; his face was completely pale, finally peaceful. As hard as Sora looked, he could not see a sign of life in his friend's body.

The king looked rather sheepish. 'Well, I suppose I can't term him alive. But he's not dead. Fate will not let him die.'

'What do you mean?' asked Kairi.

The king sighed. 'I can't really tell ya much, but none of ya are gonna die just yet. You three still have things to accomplish! And because of this, fate's not gonna let Riku die until you've done 'em.' He sighed. 'However, now that he's died in the world of Unknown, we're gonna have to fight for him to come back to us.'

'What do you mean?' asked Sora, understandably suspicious.

Mickey looked him straight in the eye. 'I can't tell you everything, Sora. But trust me on this one, okay? You two have got to find Riku and get him back here. If the darkness gets to him first, they've got the right to pull Intervigiliumance on him. And that's worse than death.

'So you must find him first.'

.r.e.m.a.i.n.s.

It was raining again, he noted, smirking. The child would be so upset. Her precious blood, being washed away into the cobblestones of the street.

Just a dark-damned pity, wasn't it?

He snorted, a harsh sound in the near-silence. Rain pattered into the streets, but there was something else; something he hadn't heard in awhile—footsteps.

He whirled, catching sight of a girl and a boy, looking around warily. He smirked again, ducking quickly into the shadows as they got nearer.

'Oh, Sora, where is he?' asked the girl, obviously upset. It didn't take much thought to figure out what about, and he cursed silently. It looked as though the light's fools had arrived sooner than anticipated. The Master wouldn't be pleased; not at all. He didn't want to have to deliver news of failure, either, and with that thought, he felt out with his mind, probing at her insecurities. Smirking yet again—he derived such pleasure from this!—he sent an image to her mind, of her friend, lying still in his pool of blood. However, he added to this image, inserting a shadow Heartless, prowling about and coming across his dead body, sniffing at the blood and then splashing eagerly through it, small crimson waves splattering back into the still-warm pool, ripples flowing from the drops.

The Heartless stopped next to his body, tilting its head slightly and looking down at the boy, bouncing slightly in anticipation. It looked rather confused that its prey wasn't trying to run, but a moment later, all confusion was gone, and the Heartless was plunging a clawed hand into his chest. The body convulsed once, the mouth opened in a silent shriek as the shadow pulled out a glowing heart (not the organ; oh, no, the Heartless preyed on the good in one's heart, which normally manifested itself into a shining jewel, of sorts).

The Heartless released the heart; the many-faceted agate floated before it, light shining from every inch of the stone. One could relate the look on the shadow's face to that of greed as the heart floated toward it, being absorbed into its dark flesh.

The body disappeared from the dark liquid surrounding it.

He watched with no little satisfaction as the girl screamed, her shrill cry echoing throughout the night. 'Kairi?!' cried the boy, turning to her. 'Kairi, what's wrong?'

'Riku . . .' she sobbed, clinging to him. 'Riku, he—' And she fainted, dead away. She would have fallen to the cobblestones if the boy hadn't grabbed her around the waist.

He rose an eyebrow as the boy lowered her to the stones gently, bending beside her and beginning to rummage through his bag. However, he didn't want to lose this edge he'd created, and so he turned to the wall, leaping onto it an scaling it easily, blending into the shadows perfectly. Once on top of the building, he looked back down, to see the boy leaning over the girl, dripping something into her mouth. He scowled at them, then set off again, dashing along rooftops and jumping effortlessly to the next. On each one, he paused momentarily, looking off of all four sides for the one he had been sent to fetch, cursing when he wasn't anywhere to be seen, and running to the next.

Another slender eyebrow rose as he spotted a small stream of garnet blood, trickling slowly from brick to brick. He leapt from the top of the building to the streets below, landing gracefully and bending to one knee, studying the stream with a practised eye. He touched a finger to it and raised it to his lips, tongue darting out to lick his finger clean of the liquid, as rare to him as wine to youth, and just as well received. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to savour his wine for a minute, then stood, striding toward the stream's source.

Of course, it didn't take long to take; the boy had fallen in one of the valleys of the poor cobbling job, and the blood had moved slowly back into the hollow, submersing his entire lower body in it. He had to look with renewed interest over the boy's profile; he had died while on his back. Interesting. Considering the amount of blood around him, as well as the fisted hands, he must have been in considerable pain before he had died.

He frowned irritably as he noticed that there was no clear path to the body; he didn't want to taint the blood by touching it. Instead, he jumped into the mess, hovering over the body as he looked over the body. He was mildly surprised to see that rigor mortis was beginning to set in; the boy had been fighting until the death, had he?

There was a shout, and he looked up, quite aggravated by this new arrival. He'd found the boy first, meaning he got to take him. That was how it worked.

However, it didn't look like the two behind him were going to take 'no' for an answer.

The girl was screaming again in denial, turning away from the sight of her friend's body. The brown-haired boy whispered something to her quietly, and she nodded, dashing off without a backwards glance. He caught a sight of her face as she ran by; it was streaked with tears. He reached out again to touch her mind, chuckling at the echoes of, 'He can't really be dead. He can't be! Mickey said he wasn't; Mickey knows these things . . .'

He alighted on the cobblestones gracefully before the other boy, pausing to bow with a sarcastic grin before speaking. 'A friend of yours, is he?' Even to him, he sounded rather mocking. Oh, darkness. 'Well, I'm sorry to say that he isn't any longer.'

'Move away,' said the boy steadily, but he could tell that the boy was close to charging. 'We're taking Riku with us.'

'Oh, is that his name?' he asked, tossing a carefree glance over his shoulder. 'Reeeeeekoooooo . . . hmm. Pity.'

'What is?' the boy asked suspiciously.

'That the Fates ripped it from him, of course,' he said, turning back and striving to keep his face entirely innocent. 'They only save the ones they really like. And 'Riku' is just a bit too droll for them, I'm afraid.' While the boy was quirking an eyebrow, close to asking what in the world he was talking about, he spoke again. 'But don't worry. Perhaps the Master will allow him it back. Though I seriously doubt it.' And with that, he turned, floating again over the puddle of garnet wine, wine that he would take back to the others, long with the body.

If he could get to the body, that was. He paused as a whistling cut through the air, a split second before a Keyblade drove through where his head would have been in another moment. He turned to see the boy beginning to dash toward the blood, raising a hand to catch the returning Keyblade. He lifted it to rest over his shoulder and glared at him, daring him to touch his friend.

He sighed, moving back to the cold stones. 'If you wish to fight over this, very well. But please remain out of the blood.' We wouldn't want my reward soiled by the likes of the Light, now, would we? Of course not. He flexed his hands once and waited for the boy. 'Go on, attack me.'

There was a pause, as the boy tried to figure out if he was serious, and then the boy rushed at him, swinging his Keyblade in an overhead arc. The Keyblade was quickly stopped, however, as two palms caught it between their grasp. He focused, reaching into the Keyblade itself, reading remnants of past Keyblades' memories. He reached within himself, using his own abilities—

Two Keyblades materialised in his grasp; one black, one white.

It was no small feat to accomplish, but it was worth it to hear the gasp of shock from the boy. He smirked, driving his own Keyblades against the other's; the three met with a loud, resounding clank!

He had always been rather good with swords, and he found that a Keyblade was almost exactly the same. The boy, while he had some moves that he'd never seen before, and had obviously had much practise, was slow, his strikes weak. He found himself smiling slightly in amusement as he parried yet another stroke, then retaliated with one of his own, one that made the other boy's arms shake. This battle would be easy.

And then the boy shouted, 'Ars Arcanum!' His entire body glowed with a golden light (he had to fight the urge to turn away) and his strikes came quicker, harder, so that his arms almost vibrated as the blades connected.

He gritted his teeth as the attack ended. So, the amateur has some moves. It's time to end this, then. Before someone else comes along. Like that girl. With the black Keyblade, he drew a bit of a circle around the boy, parrying with his other hand. Hoping that the boy wouldn't attack quite yet, he drove the white blade through the centre of the circle, at the same time plunging the black blade into the ground at the edge of the circle and releasing both handles. In the centre, the white glowed darkly, and the circle filled itself in, becoming an inky portal. The boy fell into it with a yell, struggling to heave himself out of the darkness, but he only fell in further, until it completely consumed him, except for one hand, which was still held wide open; a signal for something. The darkness twined around his hand, completely covering it, and was dragged down as well.

The portal disappeared. The white Keyblade (Oathkeeper, the original Keyblade had called it) fell to the cobblestones with a loud clang as the black one (Oblivion) remained upright. Score one for the darkness . . . he thought grimly, struggling to pull Oblivion out of the two stones its blade had wedged between. Now, how to transport the blood . . .

In the end, he decided to take the entire spit of land that the blood covered. He erected a small barrier around the land, completely spherical, with himself hovering over the boy once more. As he began to concentrate, to take them back to the darkness, Keyblades held on his lap, he caught sight of the girl running back into the clearing, another figure beside her. She caught sight of him immediately—how could she not?—and her eyes grew wide as she grabbed the shoulders of her companion, pointing her companion in his direction.

He smiled cheerfully, giving her a little wave before their bubble disappeared completely.

.f.a.l.l.

The Master was not happy.

'If your rat-sized brain can go to pains to remember, exactly what did I tell you to do?'

He shivered slightly, for the first time thankful of the silver-haired boy he held in his arms. That boy was the only thing keeping him from instant destruction. 'You told me to retrieve the boy, Master.'

'And what else?'

'You told him to not leave any survivors!' chimed in the child. 'And he did, didn't he, Master? He left the boy and the girl! Of course the boy is gone now, isn't he? Gone, gone, gone, left to float for eternity and forever!' she giggled. 'And no-one can ever find him because if they do he shall fall! And he'll fall, fall, fall, fall, fall into the waters, the waters, the waters; they burn and freeze and poison and blind and deafen and yet keep alive at the same time so that you can feel all the pain on your body!' There was another giggle, and a little poouuf of air passed him, making him believe that she'd twirled in delight. 'I love the waters! BUT! He still left the girl! And he didn't do anything about it! He should have brought her here, shouldn't he? Of course! Because then me and Shari and Jannon and this one and that one and anybody else would have our fun!'

He could almost feel the Master smiling at her, and glared. Why did she fall under the Master's graces? She always spoke out of turn, even over the Master! And she would never shut up, to boot.

'You are correct, my child. I specifically instructed you not to leave any survivors.' The Master had turned back to him, and he imagined the Master's harsh eyes narrowed at him. 'But apparently, it was too much of a task to ask. Deliver him to the crone, and go back to finish the job. And this time, I want no show of pity. Such show will result in your own trip to the waters.'

He swallowed hard. 'Yes, Master.' With that, he backed away from the Master, until he'd passed through the door and was out of sight. No-one just walked away from the Master; it was a known fact he had once hurled a dagger at one who had given him bad news. Because of his insolence, the man had taken the dagger straight through his left side, wedged neatly between the bones in his back to pierce his heart.

He had died instantly, crumpling to the ground, only to turn to dust.

Needless to say, no-one had turned their back to the Master since.

As he strode through the halls, he wondered how the ones on the surface lived. When he had been sent to retrieve the boy, it had been 'overcast,' but his eyes still burned as though they'd seen the deepest pits of Hell themselves. The darkness in which they lived was so much more welcoming. And as if that wasn't enough, he was now having trouble seeing; he'd quite nearly run into two walls—no, three walls—already. He turned yet another corner and gasped, having stopped just short of slamming into the crone. 'He has arrived?' her voice queried, oddly solemn.

'You think I would bother to carry any other?' he shot back irritably.

A gnarled hand reached out, touching his face carefully. 'Turroth.' He nearly dropped the boy as its eyes shot open, darting around, beginning to struggle to break free.

'Oh, dear,' said the woman, sounding downright pleased. 'Still kicking.'

'You're telling me,' he grunted, finally grabbing the back of the boy's neck and holding him still. 'Fix it.'

'Oh, fine,' sighed the crone. 'Minem.' The boy stopped his thrashing and nearly fell to the floor. 'I suppose the little one will have the fun of it.'

He glared at her in the darkness, slinging the boy over his shoulder. 'She will have the fun of it. You may be breaking the laws of the Intervigiliumance. Such chances will not be tolerated by our Master. Now, to the room.' He felt, rather than saw, the crone rolling her eyes as she turned to lead him down the hall to a room.

It was dark and damp, just the way he preferred it to be. The boy would be having one of the best rooms in their realm! He scowled darkly, depositing the boy none-too-gently on the floor.

'You're not very nice to him!' shrieked the girl. 'Me and Shari and Jannon and that one and this one and you and Jannon aren't very happy with that—ooooh, did you bring the blood?'

'No, I left it puddled in the middle of the street where he died,' he answered with a scowl.

'Awww . . . no, you didn't! You couldn't've! You like the blood as much as I do; you would not have left it! You didn't leave it, you didn't, you didn't! Where is it?!'

He smirked at her. 'Remember, Master said no permanent damage. And don't you dare let the Light touch him.'

He left the room once more—there was one more problem he needed to deal with.

Intervigiliumance
Light to dark, dark to light
Fright to fear, fear to flight
Test of courage, test of skill
Test of darkness, crawling chill
Test of endurance, tests of mind
Tests to make the spell unwind
Rasping screaming, gasping cries
Futile endeavours to cut the ties
Hear no evil, see none, too
No evil sounds shall come from you
Two ways to go, one path to choose
Neither path winning, neither to lose
Walk the roads, well-tried and tattered
Choose only that to which you mattered
No light, no dark
Shall interfere
Blinding pain
Visions sear
We forces three of fate and dark
Call the challenge, take its mark
Let death be known to those who hear
Death be known to the one with fear
Intervigiliumance

1 — .s.l.e.e.p. — 1