A/N: Back to Amaya's POV. And awaaaaaaaaay we go!

Disclaimer: If I own Kingdom Hearts, then I'm a purple polka-dotted jackalope.

Chapter 3: Of Creepy Books and Mindless Plot Devices

Ansem was dead. The ruler of Hollow Bastion, the only one brave enough to study the Heartless, the one who'd said there was a way to link us to all the other worlds. There is a way to travel between them. We just need to find it. But you're too weak, for now Amaya. Later, when you get older, you'll be able to travel them. Just keep training, eventually, that magic will take you to other worlds. But you must get stronger. Don't be afraid, and the darkness cannot conquer you.

But that darkness had taken him, destroyed him. From the inside out. But there had to be a way. There was always a way. There are no impossibilities, only things that have not yet been discovered.

The pile of books on the table grew as I looked through one, then the other, looking for any morsel that I may have overlooked. Useless. I'd read these books hundreds of times. I knew there was nothing else in there. But there had to be something. Some secret we didn't yet know. I made a frustrated noise and hit my fists on the desk in front of me, "What is it? What am I missing?"

Something rattled. I looked up in surprise, and saw that something in the nearby column was spinning. An empty space, an empty space, wait! Something! Then it spun back around, stone seamlessly fitting against stone. I touched the column, but it didn't move again. I searched all over the table, running my hands all over the top, the sides, the legs, underneath. Nothing. I looked on the floor under the table. Nope.

'Maybe if I moved the table . . .' Finally, I heard a small click, and the column started spinning again. I frantically looked around and found the cause—a small button on the bottom of the column, the same level and color of the stone. When I'd hit the table, the leg had hit it. I couldn't help but hit myself on the forehead. 'Nine freaking years, and I didn't find this stupid switch! Nine freaking years!' I shook my fist at the sky, er, ceiling, "WHY????"

I pushed the button a few more times, but the column would always spin back around to its original place. I considered trying to grab the thing while it was spinning, but I knew that at least part of this contraption was stone, and, with it spinning that fast, it would definitely crush my hand. I didn't want a crushed hand. 'But," I thought, picking up a heavy volume, 'A crushed encyclopedia wouldn't hurt anybody.'

Several tries and ripped pages later, I finally got the book jammed in the right place to allow me access to the thing inside the column—a small box, covered in dust. I got it onto the table and started working at the clasp to open it, 'What would be hidden in a column?'

I stopped with a start. I had just sort of assumed it would be whatever I needed to get off this God-forsaken world, but it was very likely that it was nothing of the sort.

"Please be worth it, please be something I need," I begged the poor box, and when it fell open, a few yellowed, crumbling pages fell out.

I picked them up, "Please don't be some stupid little girl's diary or something. Be something useful!"

In the universe, there exists both light and dark. Man has spent thousands of years trying to expel the darkness, but to what purpose? If he did indeed succeed in expunging the darkness, the balance of the universe would be skewed, and all would fall into chaos, burning in eternal light. For light, without dark, is nothing. The light, likewise, cannot be extinguished, for if it is, than the universe would freeze in the unending dark. For dark, without light, is meaningless. True power lies in finding the balance between the two.

"Blah, blah, blah. Okay, completely meaningless intro. Get to the point!" I snapped impatiently, carefully flipping a page.

Thus the gateways between worlds will always be governed by both light and darkness. To travel the worlds, therefore, one needs both the darkness and light, inside the heart. Do not fear the darkness within yourself, but do not allow the waters to drown the fire that is the light, for that path leads only to destruction. Likewise, do not, in fear, try to push the darkness away, for that leads only to delusion. If you can find in within yourself to accept both your own light and your own darkness, the door will open.

"What does that mean? Accept my own light and my own darkness?"

I sighed and looked at the other pages, but it was just more on the same theme of light and darkness. No more hints about travel between the worlds. Drat these philosophers and their fancy way of saying everything! Couldn't they just be straightforward? No, they had to be all mystic and cryptic. Granted, there was a great deal of any magic that had to be within yourself, that you really couldn't teach, couldn't even explain. I remember the instructions for learning a fire spell were all of one sentence, "Visualize the heat, and make it happen." Great. Thanks for all the help.

That's why magic was so frustrating. Learning a new spell meant unlearning things you'd spent years learning. Even for the simplest spells, reality had to become flexible, and that was the hardest part of it. You had to be able to convince your own senses that what you were seeing, hearing, feeling, wasn't real, and whatever impossibility you were imagining was. You had to convince your own mind that it was possible for fire to spring out of nowhere, that it was possible to turn gravity on and off as you wished. You had to be able to accept the fact that there were many versions of reality, each one equally feasible, and each existing and at the same time not existing. Any scholar will tell you, the one reason people do not go mad is because they can block out any information that doesn't match their perception of the world. So I guess to be a mage, you have to be a bit mad.

"Okay. Visualize the light and the dark. Accept both. Oy."

I took the pages downstairs, and found Riku on his usual spot on the couch in the front room. It was strange, he'd been here just over two weeks, but I was already so comfortable in his presence. It was nice to just know someone was there. We didn't even need to be in the same room; just knowing that he was there was enough. I'd always been rather solitary, and nine years alone had only enforced the old habits. But, probably because I'd been alone so long, I reasoned, I was always glad to see him. We could spend hours talking—I always felt kind of dumb, since really all I had to talk about had happened almost a decade ago—and still I felt no urge to leave. I wanted to stay. I just stood on the top of the stairs, looking down at his form stretched out of the couch. He'd discarded the shirt, because of the lace, and his muscular chest just begged me to . . . 'Ah! Let's stop that train of thought, shall we?'

I walked down the stairs and stood for a minute in front of the couch. He didn't even look up from his novel. 'Oh yeah, I read that one. I wonder if he's at the part where the killer . . .okay. More important things than mystery novels here.'

"I found something."

He looked up at me, "What?"

"Well, I'm not saying 'Pack your bags,' but I found something that might help us get off this miserable planet."

He looked disbelievingly at the yellowed papers in my hands, "Unless you're hiding some gummi blocks and rockets, I don't see our solution."

I sighed impatiently, and resisted the urge to hit him over the head with the papers—they were fragile after all—"No, it says in here that magical transportation between the worlds is possible."

He raised one eyebrow, but seemed to be listening.

"But it's not very clear—I'm still trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do, exactly."

He sat up and gestured for me to sit next to him, "What does it say?"

I sat down. Our shoulders touched, and I felt a jolt go through me. I puzzled over it for a moment, the tingling, shivering feeling, but shrugged it off, "It just says, 'accept the light and the darkness within yourself.'"

He wrinkled his nose. It was a cute expression. What am I saying? Cute? "Clear as mud."

"I know," I pouted, "These stupid mystics are never straightforward," I waved my hands mystically and crossed my eyes, "Feel the balance of the universe within you. Hear the voice of the mountain, see the colors of the wind."

He lightly punched my arm, laughing, "Who makes up that stuff?"

I laughed back, "Ah!" I winced as my eyes snapped back to normal, "Oww . . .I don't know. Maybe they think they sound deep or something. Oh," I said, more serious, "There is a problem, though."

His smile fell, "What?"

"I don't know what this place looks like. You know what it looks like, but you don't know teleportation. We're going to have to find a way around that."

"We'll figure something out."

I raised an eyebrow, "Confident."

"Yeah! I mean, we just figure out what we gotta do, and we do it, right? Nothin' more to it."

It almost reminded me of being with Ansem again. There are no impossibilities. I just looked at the fire, burning, light. I knew if I turned around and looked through the large windows, I'd see the sun setting. Light, quickly becoming dark. Light. Dark. I suddenly felt very tired, and leaned against Riku's chest, half-lidded eyes watching the fire. I felt him put his arm around me. It was nice, just sitting there. The lamps started lighting themselves, and I sighed, before reluctantly dragging myself up, "Good-night, Riku."

"Going to bed so early?"

"Nah, back to the library—I know we have a couple of books about teleportation."

We. I'd said 'we' instead of 'I'. Since when was it his library?

He wrinkled his nose again, "Do you have to look it up now? You look tired. Give it a break, we'll do it tomorrow."

I shook my head, "Nope. I've spent long enough in this castle. The sooner we figure out how to get out of here, the better."

"Okay," he sighed and stretched, "If you're going to be that way about it," he mumbled, standing up.

"Oh, I can do it. Don't worry. You're reading your book."

He rolled his eyes, "Well, I can't leave you there all alone. You might decide that since I didn't help, you'd just leave me here."

"I wouldn't do that!" 'To you,' I wanted to add, but adding those two words just seemed so . . .too close. Too close.

"Well then, I'll just keep you from falling asleep up there. After all, the books will be useless if you drool on them all night."

"I do not drool!" I protested, raising a hand in a mock punch. He anticipated it, and dodged, running up the stairs.

"Hey, that's not fair!" I shouted, chasing him to the library, "Come back heeeeeeere!"