Disclaimer: Heartless are not mine, no matter how much I want to adopt one. Kingdom Hearts is not mine, no matter how many times I steal Riku and Sora.

A/N: Ooooo... it gets somewhere this time. I quite enjoyed this chapter writing. Not so much pretty description in this one, but there has to be a story somewhere in this, right?

I like this, I really do. (grins happily)

In the Darkness

Chapter 2

Owen... Owen, he thought. He shook his black head groggily, looking into the darkness around him. A name? He didn't even know what that was... what it was supposed to be.

Owen.

A noise reached him, tingling his horns, and he shot into a crouch, whirling to face the direction the noise had come from. The darkness around him rippled, he could feel it more than see it. The shadows flickering in succesion, his body felt as they lengthened, deepened. Whispered chitters reached him, chatters and clinkings and hoarse breaths. He was surrounded by invisible sound, his soft horns twitching as he looked left and right. Some of the chitters were starting to mean something. Some of those chitters were starting to sound... familiar.

He tensed as the darknes in front of him shifted again, a large strengthening of the shadows. He could see a ripple form, like a drop into a cup of water, the darkness shimmered slightly. A large, red clawed paw reached out of it, forming with a slight hiss. It put itself firmly onto the ground, and another followed. Their paced quickened, and a figure began emerging. Its body was a blackened cherry, huger than anything he'd ever seen. It gave off a smell like raspberries, like clover, its movements sounded like the touch of crystal on crystal, looking at him with three pairs of golden eyes. There was a hiss at its back, and a long, sinuous black shape whipped around to face him, another pair of amber to look at him, through him.

He murmured, chittered helplessly as the creature walked right up to him. It stopped and looked down, three heads and a fourth looking down at him. The large, maned head over its left shoulder opened its mouth. Eerily bright white fangs, rows and rows of them, shone in the darkness. It let loose a roar, knocking him onto his back. He squealed in surprise, then twisted himself onto all fours and watched it warily again. Its message was clear.

Who are you?

He stared at the head for a moment, watched as its mane rippled in nonexistant wind. He almost got caught up in watching as the mane shifted colors, from deep, dark crimson, to blackened indigo, to nightly violet. A growl brought him back to the question, and he squealed again, not knowing what to reply, how to reply.

Owen.

He jumped from shock as his mind answered. The maned head watched him, golden eyes narrowing to slits. It gruffed once, an echoey sound, then turned to look at the head beside it. The central head tilted back, scratching the collective ebony-red back with its two twisted horns. It lowered its head then to look at him. Its eyes widened dangerously, its indigo tufted beard rippling as its fanged mouth opened in a shriek.

No good!... you are Low One now!

He shuddered as the shriek passed through him, whimpering slightly. His gaze dropped, claws digging into the dark floor. The third head whipped forward suddenly, its fanned horns bristling, purple and green fire dancing along its long, forked tongue as its mouth opened. The light of the flames danced off of its red-tinged scales and spiked ridge, and it hissed lowly, its mouth wide and dangerous with glistening murderous fangs.

Somethings missing...

He looked up sharply, met its amber gaze and froze. Missing? What was missing? How could he have missed something? Suddenly, the fourth head whipped forward, its serpentine neck fading into twisting tail. Its bright eyes flashed as its mouth opened to reveal a pair of hinged fangs, glistening with unspent poison. Its voice hissed, shrieked at him.

The brand! The brand! Low one's missing the brand!

The other heads murmurred in agreement. He looked at them curiously, wondering just what this was. A brand, what he was missing, but what was it. The three frontal heads opened their mouths slighting, their breaths escaping, and their chest glowed. Dark light poured from it, and he was captivated by the swirling colors. It seemed that the stars themselves danced in that beautiful dark light, that purely wondrous light. He gazed at it in wonder, his whole self absorbed in the sight. The light began to fade, and he whimpered, holding out a clawed hand as it dissipated. In its place was the shape of a heart, long tapered bottom edge. Through it were two barbed, criss-crossed lines. The edges glowed a crimson red, the only light remaining on the collectives chest. He stared at it in wonder. The brand, what did it mean? What did it offer? And, more importantly, could he collect that wondrous, shining bauble from the collective as he had the one from the man?

The serpentine head in back hissed again, its voice low.

The brand... the brand...

The maned head gruffed again, shaking its mane into ripples of color, ripples of crystal sounds.

Low One must be branded...

The horned head's eyes narrowed, looking down at him, and raised itself high.

Branded...

The scaled head hissed again, its burning tongue flicking along its teeth.

Must be branded...

He stood then, unsure of what happened next but still captivated by the glittering bauble. He took a step forward, then stiffened. The air around him was heavy with voices, heavy with the darkness. Chitters rang out, chatters in the deepening air around him. The sound of wings surrounded him, groans coming from beneath his feet. He turned desperately to all sides, unable to see anything but trapped in the darkness. He turned back to see the collective's narrowed eyes, all heads but the central one lowered as it watched.

Must brand! Must brand!

He whirled around and attempted to run, but the darkness closed in on him, clutching at his legs and arms with tiny, crooked clawed fingers.

The brand! The brand! Bring the brand!

He struggled against the binding darkness, still unable to see his attackers, only able to feel their bodies moving, rippling the air and surrounding him in a haze of noise.

It comes! The brand!

A glimmer appeared in the darkness, and the hands pulled at him. Whip-like tendrils of the noise circled around him, pulled hiim to the ground. The hands clattered over him in excitement, their chitters rising exponentially into a chorus of horrible sound. He whimpered, struggling against his bonds but unable to move. The glimmer grew, grew, the dark light of it causing him to narrow his eyes, try to look away. It came into focus suddenly, and he froze. The negative of the brand was before him. Instead of red, the lines were black, bordered by eery violet tendrils of escaping darkness. The hands pulled at him, plucked his skin and scratched at his arms, but he could no longer fight. The brand lowered, floated, drifted, closer and closer to his exposed chest.

Brand the Low One! Brand the Low One!

The voices dropped to a whisper, chanting, murmurring around him. The brand finished its achingly slow descent, and connected to his chest.

His eyes flared. Everywhere he looked, the darkness opened to him. Figures surrounded him, dozens of small shapes milling about him, shifting one into the other. He let out a small cry as the brand burned deeper, his eyes flared even brighter. The darkness opened to him.

He saw.
Endnotes: So... yeah, whaddya think? Was it worth the read?

R&R is always appreciated, as are flames and stalkers. Well, maybe not so much the stalkers...

Thanks to

Ari Powwel (glad you liked it. Heartless always seemed so innocent to me, at least the small ones did... )

Sugar-high Strawberry(yup, berries. I'm thinking blueberries... mmmm... blueberries...)

DarkXeno (sick in a good way? )

Thanks for taking the time out of your crazily, insane busy lives to read this everyone, Laters

Zo