Should I be trying to juggle two stories at once? Probably not. Am I going to, anyways? Yeah.
Haha, so, uh…this is another one of those stories that I've wanted to write for a while? But it's also one that I've been putting off, partly because of time constraints, partly because I know that, at some point, it's going to be explored in canon. But this has been sitting in my brain for like…two years now, so I figured, "You know, I can still tell it; Nomura will inevitably prove me wrong later, but it's fine." So, this story is…it's a lot less what I think will actually happen re:Subject X, and a lot more what I would probably do if I was telling the story, haha.
So! A couple things before we get started. This will be mostly canon-compliant through Union X (and hopefully Dark Road, as well, unless Nomura doesn't give us the update until really late or throws a curveball at us). This'll also be updating bi-weekly on Saturdays! (Though if I REALLY don't like how a chapter's turning out, there is the chance I'll push an update back a week.) My outline has 13 chapters, currently, but there are also a couple of chapters where I've left myself the note, "Split into two if this goes too long," so uh…we'll see if it actually works out that way.
Anyway, I think that's most of the preliminary stuff? Any extra notes will be at the end of each chapter. Enjoy!
Content Warning: This entire story is going to deal with the effects of Xehanort's capture of and experimentation on Skuld. As such, she'll be dealing pretty heavily with PTSD-esque symptoms. Make sure you're up for that before going forward.
Chapter One: A Name and a Key
The man with the eyepatch set her teeth on edge.
It wasn't because of anything he particularly said or did; there was just something too knowing in that sharp-toothed grin, a warning of danger-danger-danger that pinged in the back of her mind if she tilted her head too far and lost track of him, her hair prickling as his single golden eye seemed to pin her in place. Not even Xehanort could make her feel so uneasy. (But then again, it was still sometimes hard for her to register Xehanort as a threat, despite the evidence she had to the contrary.)
"So," the man said, his voice curling around her chest like a vice, "you're the infamous Subject X."
Her body slid into a fighting position that it remembered but she didn't. "That's not my name."
"So she does speak!" He grinned, adjusting the bundle he had under one arm. "Alright then, Dandelion, what should I call you?"
"It—it doesn't matter. I don't have a name. Just. Not that."
That too-bright eye narrowed just slightly. "He's really put you through the ringer, hasn't he, Skuld?"
Skuld. The name didn't mean anything to her, but the way the man said it suggested it should. She tested the word on her tongue, rolling it behind her teeth to see how it felt. Skuld, Skuld, Skuld.
"Anyway. We should probably get a move on. Don't want the bossman to come down here and see me messing with his prize subject. That's a headache I don't need to deal with." He tossed her the bundle.
She scrambled to catch it. "'Move on' where?" she asked warily. The item—a dark leather trench coat—spilled awkwardly over her arms.
"Out of this cell, of course! Might want to put that on, though, if you expect to travel safely off-world."
"Off-wor—out of—" She shook her head, blinking as she tried to process the words. "Who are you? What do you want with me?"
"I'm—well. I guess you could call me a friend. Not that you'd recognize me, of course. I probably know you better than you know me."
"From Xehanort."
"Ha! Sure, kiddo, let's go with that."
"So this is another test." The emotion leaked out of her voice. The explanation felt…predictable. Of course it would be another test. That's what it always was, after all.
(Except, of course, when Lea and Isa visited—but no one else was supposed to know about them.)
"Nope. No more tests, Dandelion. Can't really afford to have you becoming a Heartless like the rest of them."
Heartless. The word had as much meaning to her as her apparent name, but the rest of the sentence felt like it was crawling over her skin. She'd known there had been others down here—had heard people shouting and screaming, late at night when the sounds bled into her dreams. Xehanort had always brushed her off. I should've pushed harder.
A buzzing, tearing sound came from behind her, and she jumped as something cold licked her back. The darkness in the cell ripped open, shadows snapping at the walls like rabid dogs.
"Chop-chop. Don't have all day. If you want to escape, now's your chance."
Her eyes darted between the shadows, the open cell door, and her strange visitor. Could I make a break for it? If I was quick enough, could I get past him?
"I see that look, Dandelion, and it's not going to work. I won't stop you if you really want to try your luck, but you're probably not going to make it out of the castle. Even if you did, I doubt it'd take much effort for Xehanort to find you again. It's a small world, after all."
Her heart thudded hard against the back of her chest. Something hot bubbled in her throat. "I have places I could hide."
"What, with those little friends of yours? Hate to break it to you, kiddo, but I don't think there's much they could do to protect you."
Something sharply protective stirred in her chest; her fingertips buzzed, a strange sort of energy bouncing inside her skin.
"Easy, easy. I'm not threatening them, just stating facts. The best course of action for you—and the others—is going to be to go through that convenient Corridor." He gestured.
She swallowed, then examined the shadows warily. She had a passing familiarity with magic; she knew it existed, from Xehanort's experiments and what he'd told her of his findings (back when she still thought they were friends), but she hadn't had much of a chance to see it up close.
The man tilted his head, eye a glowing amber slit in the darkness. "Time's up, kiddo. I can't stick around any longer. Take the path out or don't. It's up to you." He stepped back. The cell door squealed shut.
"Wait!" Her voice echoed through the corridors; she slammed against the cold metal, face pressed against the barred window.
The man paused, half-turned away from her. "Good luck, Skuld. May your heart be your guiding key." He stepped forward, and the darkness swallowed him.
She almost screamed. Almost, because if someone heard and came to look, then they'd find her with the coat and the magic corridor, and then she really wouldn't have any chance at escaping. Am I really considering it? I don't even know where that path leads—if it actually leads anywhere.
But it was better than a cell. It was better than the loneliness and the fear and the bone-weary exhaustion that seemed to seep into her limbs.
(Better than cryptic conversations with Xehanort and desperate, terrified planning with two boys she'd tentatively started to consider friends.
She wondered if Lea and Isa would worry, when they couldn't find her. She wondered if there was a way to let them know she was okay.
But she wondered what it was like outside this cell, too; freedom was so close, and she couldn't spend another day in this cell, she couldn't, she couldn't—)
She'd made a decision before she could think better of it, throwing on the coat and zipping it up to her chin. She hesitated for half a second, casting one last glance back at the cell door. There are others in here. I should—I should try to help, shouldn't I?
But I have no other way to get out of this cell.
A thud came from down the hallway. It might've been something falling. It might've been footsteps.
She stepped into the darkness.
The shadows closed around her. She couldn't see anything inside the portal, but she could feel things just fine. Something sticky and uncomfortable grasped at her toes; the same substance brushed against her arms, rolling off the coat like oil. The ground was cold, sending pinpricks of frozen pain through her bare feet, and she found herself drawing the coat closer to try and block out what she could. A hiss rattled through her ears, and she had a split second to wonder, What did I just get into?
She blinked, and for a moment, she was staring at Xehanort again, the other researchers saying something about 'numbers' and 'test results' in the background. Her heart felt swollen in her chest, something inky and uncomfortable rolling up her throat and into her mouth, keeping her from asking for help she knew she wasn't going to get.
The sticky, uncomfortable feeling didn't go away when the image did, but it did force her to start walking. Just keep walking. Keep going forward. Don't think about it. Don't think about it.
Her legs moved stiffly, her feet burning as she tore them from the ground. She winced, then inhaled slowly through her nose and tried to focus. Keep walking. Keep going forward.
It felt like the darkness went on forever. She wasn't even certain she was making any progress.
(Would she be stuck in here if she couldn't find the way out? Had the man with the eyepatch just opened the door into another cage?)
Keep going. Keep going, keep going, keep going—
She broke into a run, and suddenly the darkness split. She tumbled, feet catching on the rough ground. The world became a blur of light and color as she rolled and came to an abrupt halt on her back, staring at the bright blue sky.
Her eyes hurt, but she didn't close them, something catching in her throat. Her fingers combed through something soft—grass?—and dug into the ground, dirt sticking underneath her fingernails. She let out a breathless laugh that was half a sob. I'm out. I'm out! She sat up, breathing in deeply. She couldn't recognize any of the scents, the crisp air burning in her nose. She'd never been so happy to not know something.
No more experiments. No more questions. No more darkness. No more—
No more Lea and Isa.
Her chest constricted. I didn't leave them a note or anything. What will they think, when they find out I'm gone? She swallowed convulsively. I don't even know if there's a way to reach them.
Later. She could figure that out later. Right now she had to determine where she was and what she was going to do.
A much more pressing issue slammed into the back of her mind: What will Xehanort do when he finds out I'm not there?
The thought had her scrambling to her feet, legs still wobbly. The man with the eyepatch had said she was going to another world—but lots of people had said things. And Xehanort—he was smart. Resourceful. How did she know he wouldn't follow her?
(He never found their memories, for all his prodding. Could he really find her, without any help?)
I have to keep moving. I have to find somewhere safe.
She took a moment to steady herself, breathing in deeply and letting the air fill her chest.
The darkness she'd stepped out of wasn't there any longer. In its place were rolling fields and what looked to be mountains in the distance. Buildings were nestled between the rocks, windmills turning in the breeze.
There. A town. She could hide there. She could find answers. She could—she could hunker down, and then try to figure out what her next steps would be.
Her legs were unsteady, but they kept her upright. She took one wobbly step forward, then another, slowly growing more sure-footed as she went. A part of her wanted to stop and take in the sights—to trail her hands through the grass, to stop and finger the insects crawling over her feet, to soak in the mountains and the clean air and everything. A bigger, more urgent part of her pushed her forward, telling her to move, move, move—
She nearly jumped out of her skin when her bare feet landed on smooth, warm stone instead of grass. After a few cautious moments she stretched out a foot. It's warmer than the cell, she thought and, hesitantly, moved fully onto the path, flexing her toes against the rock. Are all stones out here like this?
…Worry about it later. Find shelter first.
The town was small. Or, she thought it was supposed to be. It certainly seemed smaller than the pictures of cities Lea and Isa had shown her. Only a couple of buildings were situated around the area, as opposed to endless streets and towering skyscrapers. A couple had signs swinging outside of them, images advertising their wares.
("What are those?"
Sharing books was often difficult, but they'd managed, once Lea and Isa learned that she was interested. Isa had lifted a book up to the window, and she'd stood on her tiptoes to get a better look. She pointed, one finger sticking through the bars, towards the image of a couple small buildings with people surrounding them.
Isa pulled the book away to get a better look. "Oh. Those are shops. They sell things."
"Sell?"
"With money," Lea piped up helpfully.
Isa rolled his eyes. "Remind me to never let you teach anyone.")
A shop. A shop would have people to ask. Right? She straightened her shoulders and walked to the nearest building.
Warmth greeted her at the door, a fire popping and crackling in the fireplace. A table and chair were pressed close to the door, a couple people sitting and chatting quietly. A desk was situated at the back, a man sprawled over it, asleep.
She shifted uncertainly. One hand tapped a rapid rhythm against her leg.
"You can wake him up."
She jumped.
One of the people at the table offered a kind smile. "Hal. The innkeeper. He's supposed to be ready to take clients, but he spends most of his time sleeping."
"Oh. I don't need to—I was just looking for information."
The woman hummed. "What's your name, dear?"
She nearly answered, I don't have one. "S-Skuld." She stumbled over the word a little. Saying it out loud—claiming it—felt strange. Offering it to a stranger even more so. But I need a name.
"Pleasure, Skuld. My name's Tut. I help out with the fields."
The man at the table rolled his eyes. "She didn't say she wanted your life story."
"Well, I thought I'd offer an introduction. It's only fair."
She—Skuld flicked her eyes uncertainly between the two of them, shoulders lifting near her ears. "I just—I wanted to know where I am."
Both of Tut's eyebrows raised. "I didn't think you were from around here, but I didn't realize you were lost."
The man said, "Dali isn't exactly a bustling city. She was probably heading to Alexandria or something and didn't realize there was a village here."
"Oh, hush." Tut gave Skuld a look she couldn't decipher. "I suppose that answers your question, love. This is the farming village of Dali. We aren't a very affluent place, but we get the job done. Oh, look at your poor feet!" She stood.
Skuld flinched backwards. She lifted her hands defensively, something sparking beneath her fingertips. "They're fine." Her voice came out too sharp, too quick, but she didn't have the energy to fix it.
"Nonsense, you'll need decent shoes if you're traveling." To her credit, Tut didn't move any closer, crouching to squint at Skuld's bare feet. "What on earth happened to yours in the first place?"
Skuld thought 'I don't have any' wouldn't be an acceptable response.
"Well, I think Carson's made shoes before. Harold, do you know if he's still making them?"
"I don't know, I haven't exactly needed to ask him. Just take an airship to Alexandria and look. You'll have better luck there."
"You can borrow a pair of mine."
Skuld pulled her coat a little closer. "Why?"
"'Why' what?"
"Why are you—my feet are fine. I'll be okay."
"You aren't going to put me out by taking a pair of shoes, dear, trust me. They can last you until you get to Alexandria, at least." Tut paused, leaning backwards and squinting at her. "That is where you're going, right? I suppose we never clarified."
"I—I don't—" Skuld's arms shook a little. She rubbed them, eyes focusing on some point over Tut's shoulder. "I haven't decided. I just need somewhere to stay. For now. Somewhere—" Safe.
Tut's eyebrows furrowed.
Skuld tried to fight back panic. Did I say something wrong?
"Well, then I guess you'll be needing a room, won't you? Hal!"
The man at the desk stirred slightly.
Tut muttered something under her breath, then strode to the desk and slammed both hands on it.
Hal jumped, stared at Tut, then rubbed both hands over his face. "You certainly know how to get peoples' attention."
"Well, if you'd do your job—"
"I do do my job, thank you very much. That's why I need so much extra sleep." He glanced towards Skuld. "I'm guessing you're here for a room?"
She gave a quick, jerky nod.
"Alright, well." Hal squinted at a paper on his desk. "Sure. Looks like we have one free. That'll be one-hundred gil."
Gil?
The other residents of the inn stared at her expectantly.
Skuld shifted awkwardly. "I—maybe I don't need a room. I'm sorry to waste your time." She turned on her heel.
"Wait, dear!" Tut caught her arm.
Skuld was moving before she'd even registered she'd reacted, twisting her arm free, her right hand extending, half-open.
Tut pulled away, lifting her hands peaceably.
Skuld took a shaky breath and backed away a little. "I don't need a room," she repeated, her voice wavering.
"I get it. It's alright." Tut worried her lip. "You know, dear. It'll be a few days before the next airship leaves. Why don't you work for me for a bit? I can give you room and board in exchange for labor."
Harold called, "You have to stop taking in strays!"
"You don't have any say in it."
Skuld glanced between them uncertainly. It was a nice offer. It was a nice offer, and she wanted to take it so badly, but— "Why?"
"Well, I can't just let you go running around without a place to stay, can I? Besides, I'm getting on in years and could use the help. It's not like the other lay-abouts around town are going to do anything."
Harold snorted.
Skuld thought that she should probably turn down the offer; she didn't know these people, didn't know if they meant what they said, didn't know if this would be just another cage, but—
But she needed somewhere safe, and in the end, that won out. "Okay."
-Skuld had been having the same dream for nearly as long as she could remember.
In it, she sat in a field full of flowers, overlooking a town perpetually blurred by the rising sun, just on the cusp daybreak. Four figures hovered around her; they seemed heart-achingly familiar, but when she woke up, she could never recall their faces or names. Just the flashes she caught out of the corner of her eyes or the ringing of voices and laughter in her ears—a bright red scarf and joyful teasing, golden hair and curious questions, flowers and a concerned voice, a hat and blunt advice.
Most of the time, she never wanted to leave the dream. Never wanted it to progress forward, because she knew what happened next.
The bright morning sky flickered, darkening, red hues overtaking purple and blue and yellow. Skuld stood—because that's what she always did—and searched for the specters of her friends—even if she knew they weren't there anymore.
The ground shook and crumbled beneath her feet. She ran, leaping for the edge, hoping that just once, just once, she'd be able to catch it.
(She never did.)
Her fingers brushed grass. The ledge broke, and she tumbled, summersaulting through empty air.
A light flickered overhead. Something long and metal glinted in the center.
(A key. A blade. Something her heart knew but she didn't.)
Skuld stretched for it. Something sparked at the edges of her fingertips.
The key still stayed stubbornly out of reach.
(This is where the dream changed.)
A pink shape appeared, wavering on the ledge far above her.
Skuld's eyes snapped towards it.
A fox watched her, body occasionally flickering with trails of flames. It tilted its head, eyes unblinking.
Skuld stared back.
The world came back with a jolt. Skuld gasped, shooting upright. Her fingers curled against her chest, and she touched—leather?
Her hands moved frantically, tracing along the leather jacket, a part of her still half-expecting to feel the thin fabric of her shift. It took a moment for her to recognize where she was. Dali. I'm in Dali. Not in the cell. She inhaled deeply and pressed her forehead against her knees. She breathed again, and tried to focus on the sounds and sensations around her.
A bed, creaking quietly underneath her. Soft fabric brushing against her bare feet. A strange, woody smell that came from the floorboards. Leather rubbing roughly against her arms and squeaking a little as she moved. Voices, drifting just faintly from outside.
She breathed in and lifted her head.
The sun had barely started to rise, a blood-red sunrise slowly peaking over the mountains. Nausea turned Skuld's stomach, and she vaulted out of bed, feet hitting the floor with a solid thump. She paced anxiously around her room, but it felt—small. Too confined. Like if she stayed there too long, the walls would fall down on top of her. But I don't know where—
The door isn't locked here.
She let out a breathy laugh that didn't feel quite right in her throat. The doorknob was cool under her fingertips, and for half a second, she thought it wouldn't turn. But then something clicked, and the door opened smoothly, letting her out into the hallway.
Tut's house consisted of a couple of small rooms, connected to one larger entryway. A table and chairs and numerous other things Skuld couldn't identify had been set up around the area. She hadn't taken the time to really look at anything, last night, her heart still too jittery in her chest; now, she ran her hands along some pictures on the walls, pricked her fingers against some sharp-spined plants, buried her hands in a soft blanket. Safe. This was safe, at least as far as she could tell, and as she let that sink in something warm filled her chest.
"You're an early riser, I see."
Skuld snapped around, fingers fumbling with the blanket.
Tut's lips twitched. "And curious."
Skuld smoothed the blanket out. "It's soft," she explained sheepishly.
"Mm-hm. You hungry, love?"
"N—" She broke off.
She wasn't in a cell. Xehanort wasn't here. There weren't any rules for her to adhere to anymore.
"Where do I…?"
This time, Tut gave her a genuine smile. "You like eggs?"
-Dali was near-silent, this early in the morning. Crickets chirped quietly; the windmill creaked in the distance, pushed by a faint wind that stung Skuld's cheeks. The dirt path was surprisingly rough against her feet, packed down by repeated travel.
She tugged absently at her new clothes, fingering the rough fabric. Tut had all but shoved the bundle into her arms after breakfast, ushering her to her borrowed room to get changed.
("I—I can't—"
"Please, dear. I needed to get rid of those, anyways. Honestly, you'd be doing me a favor.")
The clothes didn't quite fit—they were a bit too big, baggy and hanging off her shoulders. They were comfortable, though—more so than the leather coat, still stashed back at Tut's house.
The old farmer was several steps ahead of her, moving sure-footed down the path; Skuld tried to pick up her pace, but now that the immediate specter of Xehanort wasn't hanging over her head, she almost wanted to take the time and absorb what the rest of the town was like. Her eyes darted about, trying to capture everything she could and commit it to memory.
Something rustled in the grass, just off the side of the road.
Skuld whipped towards it, heart suddenly in her throat.
Yellow eyes flickered briefly in the shadows. They disappeared just as abruptly.
Probably just some animal, Skuld thought, but her heart wouldn't stop pounding.
"Are you coming, dear?" Tut shouted.
Skuld jerked to attention, then sprinted down the path.
The fields weren't particularly large, but they looked well-maintained, with rows and rows of carefully-tilled soil. Tut was already kneeling in the dirt, fingers stuck into it. Skuld cautiously knelt beside her.
"Alright, now. We're working on planting the new crop for this year. I'll just need you to dig some holes where I point, okay?"
Skuld nodded, and together they got to work, Tut instructing her quietly. It was…nice. Peaceful. Skuld found the repetitive actions comforting, in a way, and grinned a little as she moved. She jumped as a worm slithered, slimy, over her fingertips, then laughed quietly and moved it out of the way.
"You have any family?"
Skuld started, drawn out of the steady rhythm of work. Tension built in her chest and made it constrict. "Why?"
"Just trying to make conversation, love." Tut placed a seed and patted dirt over top of it. "Me, I don't really have any left. Not in Dali, anyway. I think I have some estranged relatives out in Lindblum. I was an only child and my parents left the house to me."
Skuld thought she was probably supposed to say something to that, but didn't know what. She dug another hole, awkwardly shuffling down.
"I thought about traveling, too, you know. It always seemed like such a grand adventure. But—well. Someone had to work the fields." Tut shrugged, but her expression changed to something wistful.
Skuld swallowed. "I'm looking for them, I think."
"You think?"
Don't tell her you can't remember. Don't, don't, remember what happened with Xehanort— "I haven't decided what I'm doing yet. But there were people I knew, once. I'd like to find them again."
(The people in her dreams. Lea and Isa. They seemed so different from Xehanort; she could half-imagine a potential life with them, where she didn't have to worry about experiments or disappointment. The thought both terrified and entranced her.)
"Why did you have to stay?" she asked, because she wasn't sure she wanted to keep talking about her own fragmented memories.
Tut laughed. "I told you I had to work the fields." She scooted closer, gesturing for Skuld to move down.
"But there are other people in the village."
"I know, dear. But this farm—it was important to my family. I have a lot of fond memories here, you know. Growing up, my cousins and I would run around the fields, causing our parents all sorts of distress. They tried to corral us by making a game of catching bugs, or making a competition out of who could collect the most vegetables." She laughed. "It often didn't work—we were terrors as children—but it didn't matter. It was the time spent with loved ones that was important."
Skuld's throat tightened. "That—that sounds nice."
"I suppose it was." Her expression turned pinched, and she dug a hole a little deeper. "Anyway. I suppose not all good things are meant to last. Not a lot of people are interested in farming anymore."
Skuld cocked her head.
"Oh, it's—someone came from Alexandria, shilling some 'innovative project' that would 'increase people's fortunes,' or some other such nonsense." Tut rolled her eyes. "It's a lot of bullshit, if you ask me, but plenty of people fell for it."
"What was the project?"
"That's the thing! They never actually said. Nobody who works on it will spill a thing. Every time I try asking they just say it's confidential. They go up to that windmill every day and come out at night with nothing to show for it. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if they're just lazing about."
Skuld cast a cursory glance back up the path.
"No."
Skuld blinked, whipping back to Tut. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, but I know that sort of look. Don't go investigating, you hear? I don't want to hear you got hurt because you stuck your nose somewhere you shouldn't. Just stick around until the next airship gets here and then skedaddle."
Skuld debated ignoring the advice. But—well. She didn't want to end up in a cell again, and it wasn't like she had a weapon to defend herself. "I won't."
-Sometimes, her dreams were filled with images of forgotten people from her past. Other times, they featured memories of Xehanort, and how things were before.
If the first dreams made her want to stay in them, the second made her grieve for what could have been.
Tonight, she found herself back at the beginning, in those hazy days when she could barely remember anything beyond scattered patches of sound and color. Everything seemed hopelessly blurred together, confusing and disorienting as she tried to grasp something she could hold onto.
"What world is this?" she remembered asking, once. "Where am I? Where are the others?"
"Radiant Garden," someone had answered, his voice rough and quiet. "There weren't any others with you."
"No—no, no, no, I need to find them, I need to—"
"You're safe. You're safe, here."
I'm not, she thought, because this was a memory, and she knew what would happen, but her past self didn't, and she clung to the man like he was a lifeline, because there was something that felt familiar about him, comforting, even if she knew better, now.
"My name is Xehanort," he said, quiet. "Do you have a name?"
She didn't know. She didn't know, she didn't know, she didn't know, and her head was splitting—
Where are Lea and Isa? she wondered, even if the rational part of her knew they wouldn't be here. But she wanted them to come, because they promised they'd get her out, get her away from Xehanort, get her away from—
Fight back, some part of her wanted to say. You need to be stronger. You need to fight, or you'll end up in a cell.
But she couldn't; her vision was already going, her ears plugging like she was dipping under water.
This is where the dream should end. Instead, the faint, cloudy image of that key flickered in front of her. She stretched out a hand. Her fingers just brushed the hilt. Just a little further. If I can just stretch a little further—
Skuld's eyes jolted open. She shot upright, gasping for breath.
She'd moved before she had the chance to process it, bolting for the door, something in her screaming with the need to get out, get out, get out—
The world flashed by in a blur of color. Her hands slammed against a wall, and she skidded to a halt, fingernails scraping against the side. She sucked in one breath, then another, trying to ignore the thing in her that said move, move, you have to move, what if Xehanort finds you?
He's not here. He's not here, I'm safe.
But what if he comes here?
(What about the people you left behind?)
Skuld swallowed back nausea. She rested her forehead against the wall of the building, taking several moments to try and hone in on the world around her.
It was daylight, now, or heading that way; Tut would likely be heading to the fields, soon. Few people were awake at this hour, but quiet chatter still drifted from the streets; for a moment, it felt like she was back in the lab, listening from her cell as the researchers discussed her latest test results.
"I'm telling you, I don't know how to make it work. Sometimes they stay contained, and sometimes they just disappear."
"You just don't have the calculations right."
"Oh, like you know any better…"
Skuld waited until they passed, voices fading, to slowly push herself away from the building.
Her heart was still hammering. She shook out her hands, rubbing at her wrists to get rid of the jitters. A nervous energy flickered through her chest as she stepped into the street. What am I supposed to do now? She could go back to Tut's until the farmer was ready to work, but—well. She didn't think she'd be getting much more sleep.
…I haven't had much of a chance to see the rest of Dali yet.
Skuld turned, heading down the path.
Now that she was feeling less overwhelmed, she had the opportunity to get a proper look at the buildings. They seemed old—older than what Lea and Isa and Xehanort had described of Radiant Garden (older than what she'd seen in the castle, even, though most of that was from behind a cell door). Some of them seemed to be built into the earth itself, carved out of the hills and fixed with doors. Skuld recognized the inn that she'd stumbled into; she wasn't sure she wanted to go back, after the spectacle she'd made of herself. A little further down sat a building with a sign emblazoned with a sword; she hesitated for half a second before stepping inside.
The shop was small, but filled with a strange array of weapons and items. Skuld awkwardly shifted at the entrance, feeling strangely out of place. The shopkeeper—polishing some sort of sword at the front—didn't pay her much mind, however, and so she edged further into the building.
Many of the weapons she wasn't familiar with; some she knew from stories the others had told her. Swords, however, she recognized, and she found herself being drawn towards one on display. It didn't look particularly ornate; just a basic long sword, polished to a bright shine, the hilt wrapped in leather. She traced her fingers cautiously along the steel.
(Pick it up.)
She wrapped her fingers around the hilt. The weapon felt almost familiar in her palm. She lifted it carefully and tested the balance, shifting her feet almost on instinct, twisting the blade with her fingertips.
"Not a half-bad stance."
Skuld started, nearly dropping the sword.
The shopkeeper gave her a lazy wave that hit at something familiar in the back of her mind. It was gone before she could place it, the shopkeeper continuing, "You thinking about buying it?"
"I—I don't—I can't afford it." She set the weapon back carefully. Her fingers lingered on the hilt. "I was just looking."
"Mm. You a knight or mercenary, by any chance?"
I don't know. She stared thoughtfully at the sword. Did the person I was before fight with a sword? Did she defend people?
…What did she like? Did she have people waiting for her? Are there still people waiting, now?
(Were Lea and Isa still waiting for her, back in Radiant Garden?)
"Why do you ask?" Skuld hedged, aware that she'd taken too long to answer.
"Just wondering. I guess it's not that weird to have some sword-fighting knowledge, but I figured those were the two most common professions."
Skuld tapped her fingers against her arms thoughtfully. "You really think my form looked good?"
"Well, sure. More so than most people who come in looking to pick up a sword."
"Do you—" She paused, wondering how to pose her question. "Is there any place where there would be a lot of people like that?"
"Well, I don't know about mercenaries, but Alexandria has plenty of knights. Why, you thinking about joining?"
"Something like that." Alexandria. That's the place Tut mentioned, earlier. If I can get there—I don't know. Maybe I'd find more answers. "I have one more question, if that's okay."
"Sure, shoot."
"Have you ever heard of a place called Radiant Garden?"
The shopkeeper's eyebrows furrowed. He hummed, cupping his chin. "Name doesn't ring a bell."
"Oh."
"Don't look so down. It's not like I've been everywhere, you know. There's a lot you don't hear about in a small town like this."
"I—right. Thank you. For the help." Skuld left the shop with a buzzing feeling in her chest and a strange, tingling sensation in her fingertips.
-"I want to send a letter."
The postman—a small, fairy-like creature that had identified themself as a 'Moogle'—nodded and fished for something in their bag. "Sure thing, kupo. Just give it to me and I can get it where it needs to go!"
Skuld bit her lip. "I—I haven't written it yet. I still need paper."
She braced herself to be laughed off, but the Moogle said good-naturedly, "Well, that won't do, kupo! Just give me a sec."
The Moogle fluttered behind their desk.
Skuld craned her head to try and get a better look.
The Moogle reappeared, startling her and causing her to stumble backwards. "Here you are!" They extended a sheet of paper and pen towards her.
Skuld hesitated to take them.
The Moogle pushed them towards her. "Go ahead, kupo. You can bring it to me whenever you're ready."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course! It's just paper, kupo."
Skuld swallowed, but reluctantly accepted the paper and pen. "Thank you. I'll try to get it back to you before too long."
"There's no rush. I can help with letters at any point."
Skuld managed an awkward nod, then turned and headed out the door.
She almost ran into a group of people as they entered the inn. "Watch where you're going!" one of them shouted.
"Sorry."
Something brushed against her arm, raising goosebumps. Skuld whipped towards them. Energy burned inside her chest, hot-cold and sharp.
(The image of a blurry key flickered behind her eyes.)
One of the people looked at her. "Something the matter?"
Skuld forced herself to relax out of her defensive position. "No. It's—I'm sorry. It's nothing." She turned away, ducking her head.
(Something dark and sticky still seemed to cling to her. It reminded her of the portal that brought her here.)
-Trying to find a place to write her letter was…difficult. She didn't want to bother Tut, and most of the stores didn't have writing areas; she'd stepped into the pub for a moment, but there had been too many people, too much noise, too many sights and smells and sounds and—
And she couldn't do it.
So she found herself returning awkwardly to the inn, sliding into a seat at the table, perched uncertainly on the edge. She bit her lip, tapping the pen against the paper, consciously ignoring the innkeeper and the Moogle as she tried to figure out what to write. After a moment she shook her head and just started.
Hello Lea and Isa—
Was that too formal? Would they think she'd been avoiding them?
Hi,
I'm sorry I disappeared. It's…a lot to explain. I'm alright, but I don't know where I am.
She paused, thinking. What else would they want to know?
It's somewhere called 'Dali.' I don't know if you've ever heard of it. The man in the eyepatch said something about going to another world, and that sounded pretty crazy at first, but—but I think I might believe it. Maybe. Nobody's heard anything about a place called Radiant Garden.
Oh! The man with the eyepatch—you should keep an eye out for him. He's the one who got me out of my cell. I don't know if he's really trustworthy or not, but be careful. She paused, then added, almost without thinking, I think he knows something about my past.
And watch out for Xehanort. He's not going to be happy that I'm missing. Stay away from him. Or, at least, don't let him know that you knew me.
She almost ended the letter there, but a part of her was longing to talk to someone familiar; to learn more about what her friends were doing, even if she knew the chance of them even getting the letter—let alone responding to it—was unlikely. So she continued: Have you guys been okay? What have you been doing? What's been going on in Radiant Garden? And then: I'll talk to you soon. Stay safe.
Skuld, formerly Subject X
She bit her lip. She wasn't sure that was a promise she could keep, but did it really matter if they didn't get the letter in the first place?
She shook the thought off. I have to at least try. For them.
Carefully, cautiously, she folded up the letter, sealing it in the envelope. For a moment, she just held it between her fingers. Then she stood, slowly approaching the Moogle and clearing her throat.
The Moogle whipped towards her. "Oh! Did you finish your letter, kupo?"
Skuld managed a tiny smile. "I did. Thank you." She cautiously handed it over.
The Moogle took it with a hum. "Where do you want to send it?"
"Do you know a place called Radiant Garden?"
"Never heard of it, kupo."
Skuld's shoulders drooped.
"But, uh—I can still try to find it. Leave it to me!"
"I—yeah. Alright. Thank you."
(They wouldn't find it. Or, Skuld didn't think they would. But maybe trying was enough.)
-"You don't remember anything."
Skuld didn't know if this was a memory or a dream. She thought Xehanort was speaking; she thought it might've been her, too. She held her breath and waited and finally, finally, it tipped over into half a memory; she'd carved this one into her mind, digging into the crevices where her missing memories should be, retracing the grooves over and over to try and remind herself of what once was.
"I don't either."
She hadn't said anything then, the world still a frightening storm of sensations, but the words had felt like a lifeline. She clung to them, letting them drag her into calmer waters, and for one brief, terrifying, exciting moment, she thought, I'm not alone.
"Do you read?"
She hadn't known then if she could.
"I can find you something. Read to you, if you want."
She'd hitched a breath, and when Xehanort had turned to leave, she'd stretched her fingers through the cell window, letting them catch on his coat. The words 'Don't go' snagged in her throat.
Xehanort had looked at her and hesitated. Then, slowly, cautiously, he came closer to her door. He looked lost for a moment, like he wasn't sure if he was supposed to come in or stay outside. Eventually he just settled near the door, and Skuld had relaxed.
(This was where the memory changed.)
"We never did find our memories, did we?" Xehanort asked. "Either of us."
Skuld swallowed.
"Was it worth getting out? When you may never know who you used to be?"
"I have a name."
"But not a home. Not a family. Not anything else." Xehanort tilted his head to look at her. "Do you even know if the name is yours?"
"I'll make it mine. Anything is better than—anything is better."
Xehanort smirked. "How brave."
Skuld's eyes snapped open. She shot into a sitting position, her whole body shaking. She clamped one hand over her mouth, trying to stifle a sob on instinct. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.
But the fragments still clung at her brain, leaving her practically fizzing with energy, a primal sort of desperation making her chest feel too tight.
She needed to get up. She needed to do something. She needed to not be here, with the specter of Xehanort still hanging over her.
Her mind still buzzing, Skuld stood, pacing agitatedly back and forth. If this is really a different world, like that man said—will I find anything? Or am I stuck here, with no answers?
She stared at her hands. If that man could make a portal—could I make one, too?
She grabbed her coat and crept out to the fields.
The place was just as peaceful in the dark as in the day, filled only with the quiet chirping of crickets. She stood between the rows and rows of dirt, trying not to shift awkwardly.
Breathe, she commanded herself, and inhaled deeply, the cold crisp in her chest.
It was one thing to see a portal form in the darkness. It was another to try and actually make it happen by herself.
Skuld tentatively extended a hand. Nothing felt particularly different—but then again, she hadn't been the one to form the portal in the first place. Did she even have the ability?
Open, she thought at the darkness, and wasn't particularly surprised when nothing happened. She focused on a spot in front of her, imagining it parting in waves, flowing outward until it formed a hole in the center of the night. Open, she commanded again.
The night remained as quiet as it had before.
There had to be something else to it. Was it something inherent in the coat? In the world? Or was there something deep inside people—something that could be used, if only they reached deep enough?
Skuld closed her eyes, focusing her attention inward, and searched for something that seemed out of place or powerful. Not that she was particularly certain she'd find anything—
But a stained glass image, blurry and indistinct, flickered at the edges of her consciousness, and a familiar tingling raced down her arm and sparked at her fingertips. For a very brief moment, she thought she could hear something singing in the back of her mind—something that sounded like vibrating metal, like fire and sparking electricity, like crickets and croaking frogs and the quiet sounds of nightfall.
A dull pain shot through her back, her breath forced from her chest in a quiet, oomph! In a second she was crouched, half rising into a defensive stance she didn't remember moving into. It took a few moments of observing the empty night to realize there was no threat in front of her, and a few moments more to realize what had happened.
She'd fallen—lost her balance, maybe, when she'd seen that stained glass image. The ground was scuffed where she'd hit it; she ran her fingers along her back and they came away with traces of dirt. She suppressed a frustrated sigh as she rubbed the dirt between her fingertips. Was I always this jumpy? she wondered. Would the old me have reacted the same way, had she been startled?
Something buzzed in her ears; Skuld didn't jump this time, but it was a near thing. She took another breath, ready to chastise herself, when she was able to decipher the sound.
Voices. People were talking—quiet, but not quiet enough that it didn't carry in the empty night. The speakers sounded relaxed, mostly, the sound coming from the direction of the windmill. The owners of the voices were currently hidden somewhere out of Skuld's line of vision—which meant they likely had no clue Skuld was even there.
Skuld held herself carefully still, worrying her lip. She could leave it alone—Tut had told her to stay away from the windmill, after all. She could call it for the night, go back to her hiding place, and just go to work in the morning. It probably wasn't any of her business, anyways.
But why were they out at night? She doubted they were trying to attempt inter-world travel, like she was.
Almost before she'd consciously made the decision, she was flicking her hood over her head, walking carefully between the rows of vegetables and towards the incline. She stayed away from the path, moving carefully around the back of the building so that she could keep something between her and whoever the speakers were. It's probably nothing, she told herself. They're probably just out for a nightly stroll.
To the windmill? some incredulous part of her asked.
"…lot ready for the queen."
"Listen, we've got a few days. Things'll be done by then."
Skuld peaked around the corner of the building.
The two speakers were standing directly in front of the doors. Skuld pulled back quickly, hoping she hadn't been seen. The brief glance, combined with the darkness, meant that she didn't have enough time to make out their features; the voices sounded only vaguely familiar, so she doubted she'd interacted with them all that often.
"Yeah, yeah, just—we should check on things. So many of them have fallen apart, I just—I don't really want to risk it, you know?"
"What, scared of the queen?"
"Yes. Like anyone with common sense."
"Relax. Come on. I'll buy you a drink."
"The pub's not open at this hour."
"Then I'll buy you a drink tomorrow. Just don't worry so much."
A heavy pause. "You really think those Heartless will be ready by the end of the week?"
"Positive."
Something uncomfortable shivered up Skuld's spine. Heartless?
The sound of footsteps, and the drifting voice of the second speaker cheerfully saying, "You've been working yourself to the bone, man!" signaled that the two were leaving. Skuld waited a few moments, then hurried to the front of the windmill and carefully pushed the door open.
The inside of the windmill was surprisingly boring, for all of the talk the two villagers had made of it. There was a ladder that led somewhere into the rafters, a door on either side, some barrels, a metal contraption beside the entryway—nothing that Skuld guessed could be classified as 'Heartless.' Still, she carefully walked around the area, searching for anything unusual, even climbing up the ladder to see if there was anything there. What could they have been talking about? There's nothing here.
But the villagers did come here every day—or, at least, many of them did. Which meant there had to be something she was missing.
Or something that they're hiding.
Skuld sent a look to the metal contraption. It was, admittedly, somewhat out of place inside the windmill—though not enough that she'd pay much attention to it, if she didn't already know she needed to be looking for something strange.
It looked more like a lid, when she got closer to examine it. Skuld grabbed the edge, straining to open it for a few moments; something gave, and it flung upwards, hitting the ground with a startlingly-loud clang. Skuld stumbled backwards, caught herself, and tensed. No one came running—not immediately, at least—so she stared into the hole she'd opened.
A ladder descended into darkness.
Something shivered down her spine. She hugged the coat closer to her. This is—this is silly, she thought. It's probably nothing. I'm just—I should go back. I should be trying to find a way off this world. I should—
Was that a voice?
She jerked herself out of her thoughts, straining to listen.
The noise came again—vaguely voice-like, though now that she was listening, there seemed to be almost something off about it. It echoed eerily up from the darkness, and Skuld found herself clenching the edge of her coat.
Kneeling at the edge of the hole made her shiver, but she still called out tentatively, "Hello?"
The voice fell silent.
"Is someone down there?"
No response.
Skuld almost left—almost convinced herself she'd been hearing things, and that it'd be better to just…not deal with whatever the village was trying so hard to hide. But what if it's a person? she wondered. What if there's someone trapped down there in the dark, and I didn't do anything to help them?
She swung herself around and clutched the edge of the ladder, easing her way into the darkness.
She wasn't sure how far down she went; it felt like a long time, though her perception might've been skewed by the blackness surrounding her. Her foot touched something solid and, hesitantly, she stepped off the ladder.
The darkness pressed on her shoulders and wrapped around her chest. Skuld blinked, trying to get her eyes to adjust, but there wasn't enough light down here to make out anything. She edged cautiously forward, foot sliding along the ground. "Hello?" she called; her voice echoed loudly, and she winced, shoulders tense.
A scratching sound came from the left.
Skuld's head snapped towards it. She tensed, half expecting something to come out of the dark. Nothing did, but her heart still jack-rabbited in her chest, her hands vibrating with useless energy. I wish I had brought a light, she thought ruefully.
She could go back up. She didn't have to keep exploring the windmill's mysterious underground. She could wait just a day or two more for the airship that would take her to Alexandria, and then she could leave.
(She couldn't. She couldn't, because if there was even a chance that someone else was down her, she couldn't leave them behind. Not again.)
Skuld's foot hit a ledge. She yelped, flailing to keep from falling. When she'd caught herself she stood on the edge, debating. How far down is the drop? Cautiously she lowered herself over, arms supporting her weight, one leg feeling for something solid. Her foot touched the bottom.
She released her breath and let go. Her feet hit the ground hard, and she wobbled a little, one hand hitting the wall with a smack. The shadows seemed to stretch forever. Skuld tugged her coat closer, one hand trailing along the wall as she cautiously stepped forward. The faint scrabbling sound seemed louder and made the skin along her arms prickle. Her chest felt tight; her footsteps slowed, her breath shuddering in her chest.
Her fingers hit something metal.
She yelped, jumping backwards.
Yellow eyes flashed in the darkness.
(Too bright, too bright, just like that man's—)
Something in the back of Skuld's mind screamed danger. She wasn't sure if it was the darkness or the eyes or the familiar cool metal.
Hesitantly, Skuld moved closer, hand outstretched. Her fingers brushed metal again and, slowly, curled around it.
(A cell. A cage. There was something in there, just like she'd been, just like the man had said about other people—)
The yellow eyes lunged.
Skuld stumbled backwards; claws still tore at her coat, scrabbling at the bars. As if on cue, other scratching sounds followed. Howls and screeches rang in Skuld's ears.
The yellow eyes watched her, twitching back and forth like their owner was pacing.
"Heartless," Skuld said, her throat dry. "That's—that's what they're making. That's what Xehanort was—but you were—"
(Is this what she could've happened to her? Is this what she'd left other people to become?)
The yellow eyes tilted. Something scraped against the metal, like the Heartless was trying to get out.
A primal sort of terror flashed through her chest. "St-stay back. Stay back. I can't do anything for you. I—"
(Should do something. Should do something, should do something, don't be a coward—)
Warmth sparked in her chest.
The yellow eyes stretched closer. The claws scratched at the metal, and then there was a sudden pop. The eyes flickered up and down, jerking as if their owner stumbled.
Skuld lifted her hands defensively.
(Something that tasted like starlight touched the back of her tongue.)
The eyes advanced.
Skuld shifted almost unconsciously into a fighting stance.
Something that felt like the darkness of the portal brushed across her legs.
Skuld snapped towards it.
That was all the Heartless needed; it lunged, eyes the only thing visible in the darkness.
Skuld whipped towards it. She swung an arm on instinct, but she had no weapon, she couldn't fight it—
(The image of a blurry stained glass platform. A quiet ringing, like a bell. Sharp, hot-cold energy that seemed to flare in her chest like a starburst.)
A heady sort of energy bubbled in her chest and up her throat. It flashed down her arm as it swung, leaving streaks of light behind her fingers. Something solid manifested in her palm, and her fingers curled around it instinctively.
The light illuminated the creature: a skinny, mostly-humanoid thing, with jagged claws and skin flaps that resembled clothes, a strange emblem emblazoned on its forehead. Her weapon hit the creature's midsection, sending it flying against the cell.
In Skuld's hands was a strange item that more resembled a key than a sword. A golden shaft sprung from a purple hilt, a star patterning the place where the two met. At the end of the shaft was something that reminded her of a starburst. A keychain dangled from the end of the hilt, the charm at the end almost resembling a shooting star.
(A blade. A key.)
Skuld's breath caught. Something about holding the weapon felt right. Familiar. Like she'd held this countless times before.
The Heartless recovered and lunged.
Skuld reacted on instinct; her blade spun through the air, catching the edge of the Heartless's claws and tossing it. She flipped the weapon around, the tip stabbing deep into the dark body. The Heartless didn't make a sound; its body broke apart, darkness flaring around Skuld and brushing against her coat. A pink, crystalline heart floated up from the remains and disappeared into the shadows above.
She clutched the weapon tightly in her hands. Nothing else tried to get out of the cells.
A broken laugh tore its way out of Skuld's throat. "What was I? What kind of weapon is—could I do this the whole time?"
The strange weapon felt warm in her hands. She ran a thumb along the handle.
"Who was I?" she amended quietly.
The dark gave her no answer.
Alright, so the big note is about our first world: Gaia, from Final Fantasy 9! Not going to lie, a big part of the reason this world was chosen was just because I'm a fan of the game, haha. That said, there IS one more reason I picked this world—in particular, a certain story about trying to find a home told by a certain monkey-tailed protagonist.
Dali was chosen as the first location because of the Black Mage factory in the original game. The Black Mages have a lot of similarities in appearance to Heartless, so I figured, "You know, I can probably change that up pretty easily…and what better way for Skuld to first re-summon her Keyblade?"