Disclaimer: KH is not mine, no matter how much I beg and whine.
A/N: Wheeee... the next chapter is here. Now, read, this is the last 'true' chapter of These Wings that Ache. The next one is the Epilogue, and then you all have to sit on the edge of your seats waiting for the sequel/s. :) lol...
A big huge thank you goes out to Sarah for beta-reading and editing this chapter. I really should pay you for this.
Enjoy everyone...
Chapter 18
The horizon gleamed red around her, the ground dusted with a luminescent white powder. Sounds of battle surrounded her on all sides, but turning she could see nothing. The dust glowed softly under a blood red sky, and all four horizons shone as if four suns readied to cross the sky.
She looked up at the empty sky, wondering where she was and how she had gotten there. The sounds of battle grew suddenly, then faded into a whisper. She was starting to hear words, but they were too muffled to understand. There was a sense of urgency in some, and a sweet hostility in the others, feelings she could sense even though the words eluded her.
She shivered and put her arms around herself. The air was warm, but the strangeness of this new place chilled her. The glowing ground, the flat horizons, everything was strange and new, but the feel of the place was old. She glanced around suspiciously, then started walking towards the horizon in front of her. Nothing changed, and, in fact, it seemed as if she hadn't moved at all. She stopped, looking around again. The sounds of a distant battle still surrounded her, growing and fading, the voices accompanying them growing and softening.
A gust of wind blasted at her from behind, and she tucked her wings around her to keep them from flailing about. With quite some difficulty, she managed to turn around and look behind her. A darkness was rising, but not out of the horizon. It was much closer than that, and darker than any nightfall. Screeches and scratches began to echo from it, and the wind blew fiercely, a dank smell accompanying it, the stench of dried flowers and caskets whipping around her in a frenzy. The gusting wind was pushing her back, and she had to take a few steps to steady herself. The chittering and screeching rose and fell, then rose again, surrounding her. Quite suddenly a voice broke through above the screeches, and though the words were lost in the gusting wind, she heard enough to recognize it. Two toned and dangerous, its meaning couldn't be lost on this dark wind. She dropped into a crouch in surprise, wrapping her arms around herself as the wind whipped past her. The darkness was growing across the ground towards her, she realized, and a sudden fear rose up in her. She dug her fingers into the ground, pulling herself away from the oncoming black stain. It didn't seem to be fast enough, she realized in fright, and thin tendrils of shadow were reaching out towards her. The tendrils thickened as they neared her, growing claws and reaching off the ground to claw at the air. She yelped as a clawed hand swung out, raking across her leg, and in a panic forgot about the raging wind and flapped open her wings. The sudden burst of wind into her outspread wings sent her tumbling head over heels, scraping and skidding across the ground. She finally managed to pull her wings in, but still rolled over the ground. Every time she touched against it, the glowing white powder that covered it lifted, leaving a trail of haze in her wake, a softly throbbing luminescence that shifted softly in the raging wind.
Throwing out her arms, she tried to grab hold of something, anything, to slow her down. The powder rose, twisting into myriad shapes as the wind tore through it. Light flashed from opposite the darkness, suddenly, and the wind, having pushed her over into the light's territory, suddenly found itself no longer able to torment her. She pulled herself hastily onto her knees. The light from behind her was growing, pulsing, and spreading out to meet with the spreading black stain. Sounds began to rise from it, the lilting light notes of string quartets and rippling glass harmonicas. The light met the dark, and suddenly the screeches rose in agonizing tones. Crashes of cymbal-like thunder erupted and clashed with the darkness's screeches. A voice broke out from the light, tone without words, and she whipped around to look into the source of light, almost expecting to see a figure standing there. He sounded so close, she thought, even though she couldn't understand what was being said. Dark and light clashed again, sending sparks of light glistening through the softly rising clouds of glowing powder.
Two voices were speaking now, overlapping, growing and fading, but there all the same. She stood now, a little uncertainly, but no wind accosted her on this side of the fault. She could still see the clawed hands straining to reach into the light, pulling back when the light struck at it. She winced at the flashes that came from the battle, but stood up, holding an arm up to block as much of the light as she could. Brightness surrounded her on this side, and she took some comfort in the fact that she was safe, at least for a while. Another flash came from the clash, then another, and suddenly her entire vision was white, and she was caught in the center of a whirling wind. Closing her eyes and still seeing white, she pulled her wings in close, feeling herself lose balance slowly. The world seemed to tilt, to tip, and she spread her wings out again, flapping agitatedly, twisting as she felt wind currents swirl unnaturally around her. She seemed suspended on nothing, not even air, the wind seemed much to wild to support her. Vertigo clawed at her and made her head spin, and she flapped her wings harder, attempting to realign herself to some magnetic center that didn't seem to exist.
She blinked, and opening her eyes found herself staring into a clear blue sky. Ground was hard beneath her back, and at the edges of her vision she saw the feathery tops of tall grass, swaying slightly. It was somewhat comfortable, lying in an unknown field, and more than a little disorienting. Where had the softly glowing ground gone, the blood red sky, the shining horizons? Clouds drifted across her line of view, lazy cotton balls moving sluggishly on stale currents.
A bird's cry grabbed her attention, the rough, sharp call of a falcon. She found its shape, wheeling in the air above her, and frowned. Its form was entirely falcon like, finger-like edge feathers spreading to catch currents, wedge-shaped tail widening and thinning, twisting to steer it delicately along its course. But something was wrong, something didn't match. The bird turned, heading to fly over a hill, and in turning passed through sunlight that illuminated it, and she now saw clearly what had disquieted her. Its body was greyish brown, with its tail ending in darker bands, but its wings, its wings made her sit up in surprise. Its right wing was black, a sharp-edged shape with smaller sharp edges where the finger-feathers were. It barely glistened in the sun, merely moved as if it were a shadow hewn out of the sky. Its left wing was, in contrast, almost pure white. Its edges were hazy, as if they were bordered with a delicate fringe, or as if it were not entirely formed yet. Faint lines of pale grey banded the feathers, but were only apparent when the bird turned a certain way into the light.
The bird screeched again, a high sound that pierced into her so viciously that she gasped, clasping her hands over her ears. The grass around her swirled in an unseen wind, but she couldn't feel what moved it. She stood up, peering up with squinted eyes to track the bird's flight. Its wheeling and turning was becoming erratic, as if it were agitated by something. It flapped its wings hard, and for less than a moment its course took it across the face of the sun. She froze, unbelieving, but couldn't doubt what she saw. The white-grey wing, fuzzy and hazy, disappeared. It vanished entirely as the bird passed the sun. And now the elegant shape was flailing in distress, one dark wing beating viciously into the air as it spun and twisted. She started to run, spreading her wings to take off even though she knew she couldn't make it. The bird was falling too fast, and too far away for her to do anything. Its form plummeted to the ground, spinning haphazardly as it desperately tried to straighten itself with one wing. Even though she ran as hard as she could, she only made it to the foot of the hill as the small, dark shape vanished behind it.
She jumped and flapped, carrying herself over the hill and landing on the other side. Her first concern was for the bird, and her eyes were focused on the ground in front of her. A few wayward black feathers blew past her, and she caught one as it flickered in front of her eyes. There, in the distance, stood a large structure. No, not a structure, a city. It gleamed in the sun like she'd never seen anything gleam before. It must have been made of metal on metal, shined to perfection and reflected the sun's rays from all angles. The hand holding the feather lowered as she stared at the city in awe. A large wall ran around it, and a gigantic building rose straight out of its center. She felt she wanted to enter the city, to see it, see the people in it and the way it worked. But suddenly clouds were approaching in the sky, fast and casting deep shadows. The sun raced away from her as if in fear, hiding below the horizon. And instead of an onyx feather she now held the ebony handle of the Masamune.
She jerked in surprise on seeing the sword, seeing the naked blade gleaming in the darkness. And it was true darkness, now. She turned to look where the city had been, but nothing shone in the distance. No moon hung above her to light the way. She gripped the Masamune's hilt tightly, nervously, and began to turn to look around her. Something shifted in the darkness, and slowly a light faded into view, as if someone were taking layers of gauze off her eyes until it showed. A small figure sat in the circle of dim light, swathed entirely in grey cloth. Its hands moved in front of it, and she stepped forward slowly to see what it was doing.
A paper lay in front of the figure, and small hands were dragging stumps of crayons over it to give shape to a form that was all too familiar. Silver hair, turquoise eyes, and an outfit of purple and black and red, with a matching sharp-pointed keyblade at its side. The small figure in grey was gently dragging a light blue crayon to outline the figure, extending it like an aura. Orange had been used to draw binding ropes on the figures arms and legs. The ropes reached out towards the edges of the paper, as if they didn't come from the drawing but from an outside source.
The figure stopped coloring, and, as if for the first time noticing that she stood there, tilted its head towards her. Just as the grey cloth was about fall away, to show the figure's face, a piercing cry burst out from around them. It seemed as if the shadows themselves screamed in the darkness, and the figure stiffened. Slowly, so slowly she didn't notice at first, the figure began to fade away. Its edges became hazy, its colors muted, and suddenly it just wasn't there anymore. She stood there, looking down on the strange picture. The figure had managed to add one more color to the drawing. Red covered most of it, pushed in so hard that the crayon had crumbled and left tiny pieces of wax on the paper. She crouched down, and reached out a hand to touch a finger to the picture. Tracing her finger along the red, she pulled back suddenly. It was strangely warm, and, she noticed with a start, the red had stained her finger. Even as she watched, the red that stained her finger thickened, began to grow in volume. Slowly, a trickle of it ran down the edge of her finger and a single drop, no more, tipped off and fell to the paper below.
The sudden contact caused the paper to erupt into flames. She threw herself back instinctively, eyes widened in surprise. Hastily, she stood up and tried to stomp the fire out, but soon it became apparent that the picture was beyond saving. Little curled slivers of blackened paper rolled out from beneath her boots, spreading in all directions out from her. She took a step back, sadly almost, and didn't notice that there was fire around her until she nearly walked into it.
With a cry, she whipped around to face the fire. It roared in front of her, and on all sides. Turning back, she found it roaring behind her too. She brandished the Masamune, holding it in both hands, but her arms trembled, and her breathing became heavy in air that was rapidly being depleted of oxygen. Sweat formed on her forehead, but she couldn't feel it. Heat and loss of oxygen was making her go numb and go lightheaded. Her vision blurred as she faced the flames, and suddenly it was growing dark around her, and the roars of the fire were falling on deaf ears.
The sounds of bells awoke her, and she pushed herself off the ground fearfully. There was no light around her, but there didn't seem to be any dark either. She grimaced, narrowing her eyes as she peered into the air around her. Nothing was being made apparent, and she could feel the shift of forms out there, somewhere. The sound of bells grew louder, and suddenly was joined by the sound of steel on steel. War cries and the clashes of weapons grew in the air around her, and the sound of bells faded as the battle sounds grew. She wheeled around desperately, attempting to find just what was causing these sounds to come.
White light blinded her suddenly, coming from all around and hitting her so hard she nearly lost her balance. In the center, though, darkness began to grow. The white light flickered as tendrils of dark shot through it, then burst around her covering her in the dark of starless nights. She stumbled back, looking into the dark but not seeing, until a movement at her feet caught her attention. She glanced down, squinting, not really seeing what she saw. Her shadow, or her reflection, lay on the ground beneath and in front of her. Black, with black wings stretching out slight, just so, just like she had them right now, and a long blade that reached to the ground held in one hand. Her skin prickled, suddenly, and she gripped the sword hilt tighter as her breath caught. Amber eyes watched her from out of that black shadow's face. She struggled to scream, to cry, to do something, but her body wasn't responding, and her eyes were fixed on the gleaming gold of the shape on the ground before her. Her muscles quivered in her unmoving form, and silently she screamed at herself to move, move. Suddenly, she was moving, crashing about. Suddenly, the dark and the figure had disappeared and seemed no more.
She flailed about for a moment before calming down, before realizing the dark around her was lit with a strange light that was extremely familiar. Extremely comfortable, and filled with all manner of unneeded appliances, furniture, and plants. But even here something reached her, and she glanced up sharply, warily, as sounds of a distant battle grew nearer and nearer. Screams of the darkness, crashes of weapons and the sounds of magic exploding all around, all of it streaked past her in the darkness of Limbo. The sounds reached crescendo and she spun as they merged around her, encasing her in noise of steel on steel, flesh being beat and magic being thrown with electrical sizzles. There was one last magnificent explosion of magic sound and sounds of weapons, and a deadly silence filled Limbo. Foreboding silence. A silence that causes the dead in their graves to stand up and find a different spot to rest. She stood still, though she shook with fear, and so saw the magnificent spectacle that began unfolding through eyes that, though not calm or serene, were at least stationary.
A slight wavering began in one section of the area of Limbo she was in. It twisted and twirled, grew and shrunk, and suddenly began sucking everything around it into its twisted and whirling maelstrom center. Wind picked up as the vortex grew, whipping and pulling on everything that stood near it. There was a crack, and another vortex grew up, pulling a chest of drawers into its center and dismantling it with a series of loud crunches. Soon another showed up, and another, and she found herself caught between the pull of several vortices, pulled one way and another, and still a third way, her wings and hair pulled in all directions, her eyes tearing as the wind tore at her. She opened her mouth to scream but her air was stolen. She braced her legs to jump, leap, fly, but was beaten and battered by screaming winds.
The vortices grew, screams of dying furniture and appliances accompanying them, and slowly cracks appeared around her. Light faded, and Limbo became, regrettably, unstoppably, irreversibly, dark.
Endnotes: And there is the last 'true' chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. The epilogue was written before chapter 4, so after a few fix-ups I'll be able to put it up. Really really soon after this chapter. But not too soon.
Thanks to:
All the reviewers that have ever reviewed this story!
Sugar-high Strawberry: Marshmallows! Lets make s'mores:)
Doomboy2000: There'll be, like, tons of evil-Masamune stuff to come in the sequel thingy, so it should be interesting...
Magic Blue Fire Kitsune: Thanks, once again, for reminding me how the Keyblades are named (b/c i'm an idiot... lol)
Laters everybody,
Zoshi