On the Edge of Daybreak

by Cori Shadowfang

Four friends, a key, and now a name. Skuld only had the smallest bits and pieces of her previous life, but she'd use them to find out who she was—and try to become someone more than 'Subject X' in the process. (Cross-posted to Ao3.)

6. A Place for the Lost

'Traverse Town is somewhere that Skuld's started to feel she has a kinship to.'

---

Chapter Six: A Place for the Lost

The world Amelia took them to was quiet. Comfortable, almost, if a little unsettling, in the way that an old house might feel. The streetlamps bathed the cobblestones in a warm orange glow. The old-fashioned buildings had nicks and scratches along the wooden supports, but there were bits and pieces of personality: hanging plants, small bits of graffiti, string lights. Perhaps the only thing that disrupted the peaceful scene was the complete lack of people; while the buildings were clearly marked with signs of inhabitants—and several windows had lights in them—no one was out and about, talking or shopping or…anything. It made stepping through the large gate feel slightly unnerving, and the entire crew was hushed as they moved through the town.

"This is Traverse Town," Amelia said, and her quiet voice felt like it filled the empty space around them. "It's said to be a last refuge for those that have lost their homes, made by the remains of fallen worlds. If there are survivors, they usually end up here—whether they're brought by crews like ours, or find their way through magical means."

"How did you know about this place?" Skuld found herself asking.

"You hear rumors of things, when you've been traveling enough. Every merchant has to be aware of the dangers of inter-world travel. In the event that you run into a survivor—or that something happens to your ship or world—it's good to know where to go. The coordinates were passed around and verified by those who first visited." She rolled her shoulders, eyes roving over the streets, something almost subdued in her expression. "Besides, food and supplies have to get here somehow. They can't rely entirely on things showing up from fallen worlds." She took a breath and lifted her voice. "Doctor. Blank. Both of you, come with me. Bring the survivor with you. We're going to search for a hospital or medical area. Everyone else, you are free to explore the town. Don't take advantage of anyone's hospitality. Remember that everyone here has lost their worlds. The last thing any of them need is a merchant crew causing problems."

"Sucks to be you," Zidane murmured to Blank, elbowing him.

Blank shook his head. "I volunteered to help."

"Blank," the doctor said, and the boy in question scurried after him.

Skuld watched them go and wondered what she was supposed to do with herself. Being in this world felt…strange. Like she was stranded. The quiet felt eerie, and if she paid attention, she thought she could see the ghosts of lost worlds woven into the streets.

The rest of the crew seemed equally ill at ease; most of them milled about awkwardly, a couple turning and going back to the ship.

"So," Zidane asked, "who's up for exploring?"

Well…most of them.

"A ghost town?" Jim asked, but his eyes were alight with interest.

"Sure. Have to find something to do, right?"

Baku said, "Hey, no getting in trouble now, brat. You've gotten into enough scrapes already."

Zidane lifted his hands peaceably.

Explore. Skuld flexed her fingers. That's right. If this is made up of fallen worlds—then there could be something from everywhere, here. There might be more about the Keyblade. I should—I should look.

A wisp of pink fire brushed by her cheek. She wasn't entirely surprised to turn and see the fox watching her from the shadows near one of the side streets.

Skuld cast a cursory glance at the rest of the crew. Zidane was still talking to Baku; their voices were raised, and it looked like they were getting into an increasingly lively discussion. Jim was watching them with an amused expression, occasionally making quiet comments that Skuld couldn't hear; from Zidane's expressions, she guessed they weren't particularly helpful.

After a moment's hesitation she slipped closer to the fox.

The fox lifted her head, small bits of flame trailing away from her flicking tail.

"Is there—do you have something to show me?"

The fox blinked at her.

"Is there something here?"

The fox watched for a moment, then jumped to her feet, bounding away. After a few steps she paused, glancing back as if waiting to see if Skuld was coming.

Skuld took a breath, ignored the sounds of the crew behind her, and followed.

---

-"Where are we going?"

It felt like they'd been wandering through Traverse Town for hours, now. Skuld had seen flashes of people as they'd walked—a mish-mash of species and clothing styles, most with the same sort of tired, resigned expression. They'd given her looks that were a bit too understanding for her liking, considering she imagined they thought she was here for very different reasons than the reality.

Other than the people, Skuld had noticed the impressions made on the shops and streets: bits of other places that had been interwoven in the uniform buildings, either by the falling worlds themselves or by the hands of the survivors. Small clusters of gardens, colorful decorations, carefully-repaired houses—all painted the picture of people who had taken what fragments they'd been given and tried to make a home out of it.

But none of it had seemed relevant to her.

The fox wandered almost aimlessly, darting between buildings, trailing down roads, stopping and staring at places that Skuld thought might have answers but turned out to be dead ends. By now, Skuld's feet ached and her heart was weary, and she was starting to give up hope that they'd find much of anything.

"Do you know where you're going?"

The fox glanced back at her and chittered…something.

Skuld sighed, finally giving into the urge to rest. "Maybe I'm just imagining things. Maybe you're just a fox and are leading me to whatever—whatever foxes find interesting."

(A fox made of flames? That disappears and reappears at will? some incredulous part of her mind asked, but she was tired and frustrated enough that she pushed the questions aside.)

A warmth flickered along her arm. The fox sat, far enough away that they didn't touch, but close enough that the flames still cast a faint light across her.

Skuld sighed and offered her a crooked grin. "I wish you would tell me something. But you can't actually talk, can you?"

The fox blinked.

"Is it frustrating for you, too?" She didn't know why she was asking, really; it wasn't like she was going to get an answer, and she certainly wasn't to confide in a fox about Xehanort (not when other people could hear). She leaned her head back against the wall. "I wonder if the rest of the crew is looking for me. Amelia didn't say when we'd leave, but—" Her throat tightened, and she let out a slow breath. "Maybe they wouldn't be that upset if I stayed here, anyways."

The fox made a strange sort of yapping sound.

"I'm—not very good at being a merchant," Skuld answered, and she didn't really know if that's what the fox meant, but—well. She could be having stranger conversations. "And I don't always—I don't know how to interact. With them, I mean."

The fox blinked at her. Slowly, she moved around to Skuld's side, pulling at something in her pocket.

"What's—oh." The book of fairytales that Zidane had given her; she hadn't had the chance to go through it yet, with everything that was going on. She pulled it into her lap and sighed. "Yeah," she murmured, "I guess I could go through that."

The fox planted her front feet on the cover of the book.

Skuld furrowed her eyebrows.

The fox glanced pointedly from the book, to her, and back again.

"I'm—I'm not sure what you're trying to say."

The fox huffed, then disappeared, flames snapping out of existence.

"Hey—wait!" Skuld's fingers curled through empty air. She exhaled slowly, leaning back against the wall. "Guess I'm alone out here, now."

The book sat heavily in her lap. After a moment's hesitation she flipped it open, fingers running carefully over the pages. Children's stories, the merchant had said. Probably not a lot that was true, but she was desperate for anything that could potentially be a clue to her past. If she could find something in a story—well, she'd take what she could get.

Her fingers traced over the title imprinted on the first page. 'The Stairway to the Sky and Other Related Stories: A Collection of Myths and Fairytales.' She wondered how many stories would be related to the Keyblade—if all of them would be, or none, or if there were only a few, and a part of her wondered if she was wasting her time by reading it. (But she had so little to connect her to her past—so little knowledge of what the Keyblade was and who she was and where her friends were and—so she had to at least try. Because even if this could only give her a fragmented glimpse of what wielding the Keyblade was like, it was still something she didn't have before; something she could use to try and piece together her own story.)

She flipped to the first section.

'Once upon a time, there were three friends.'

Skuld snorted. It was an opening she'd heard, time and time again, when Lea and Isa had brought stories to her. It was nostalgic, almost, in a strange sort of way.

("Once upon a time, there was a magical frog."

"Prince turned into a frog."

"Right! And he had to be kissed by his true love to break the spell. But it backfired and gave the person warts instead."

"That's not how the story goes, Lea."

"It is now.")

Skuld covered her mouth, trying to keep from laughing too loud. The story. I need to read the story.

'The first was named Dandelion, and like his name, he was a traveler, often carried on the breeze to new places in search of adventure. The second was Shadow, for how they tailed so closely after Dandelion, always just a hairsbreadth behind him. And the third was Starlight, who would help guide her wayward friends home after they'd ventured too far and gotten lost.'

The book creaked in Skuld's grip. Starlight. Like her Keyblade. A cold, sharp smell filled her nose, something cool on the back of her tongue, the quiet sounds of nightfall hovering at the edge of consciousness.

'The three were some of Avaritia's blessed—created from seeds of light and scattered, like so many others of their kind. They were meant to be careful on their ventures, else they draw the attention of the other gods, who loathed their existence and would do anything to be rid of them. But Dandelion was a curious sort, and that curiosity would often lead him into trouble. One day, Dandelion drifted too far—and disappeared.'

(An almost-memory, in the back of her mind. Of a missing friend, and of turning gears, and of someone in a strange sort of animal mask.)

'Shadow and Starlight searched and searched, but they could find no sign of their missing friend. In desperation, Shadow made a petition to the gods. "I have followed Dandelion everywhere he's gone," they said. "Throughout the Sea Between, to the End of the World and back. I would follow him beyond death, if I need to. So I ask that you let me follow him once more—and bring him back, in exchange for me."

'The gods were uncertain why they should accept Shadow's plea. "You are an abomination," they told them. "Something neither god nor man. What use would we have for you?"

'"Do you think Avaritia will be pleased if she knows you have her favorite?" Shadow asked. "She would start a war to bring him home."

'The gods would not listen, but Shadow kept trying, for days upon days, until finally the gods replied: "Very well. If you can pass the trials we set out for you, then we will agree to your terms. You must first be able to reach our realm."

'"How will I do that?" Shadow asked.

'"You must climb the Stairway to the Sky. That is your first task." And so, armed with this knowledge, Shadow returned to Starlight and told her of the plan."'

"Skuld!"

Skuld jumped, slamming the book shut, and scrambled to her feet.

Zidane was waving her down, hurrying across the street towards her. "There you are! We've been looking for you."

"You—you have?"

"Well, yeah. You're part of the crew, right?"

Skuld blinked owlishly at him. "All of you have…?"

Zidane winced and rubbed the back of his head. "Well, me and Jim and Tantalus. Everyone else was kind of busy. But, anyways—you wanted to know how the survivor was doing, right?"

The survivor. Something clicked into place in the back of her head, and she nodded rapidly.

"Well, now's your chance to ask. He just woke up."

---

-They'd taken the survivor to an inn rather than to a doctor's office, as it turned out. Their medic was still griping about it. "No medical building. What do people expect to do if someone's injured, hmm?"

Blank muttered, "It isn't like doctors are just going to want to move here."

Skuld wasn't sure she minded; a relatively empty room in a local inn seemed less intimidating than being surrounded by medical equipment and other supplies.

The survivor still seemed disoriented. He blinked, giving the room a fuzzy look, wobbling a little as he tried to sit upright. Skuld's heart lurched as he almost toppled over; Blank hurried to steady him.

"I don't know what we're supposed to do," the medic grumbled. "We can't just leave him like this, but we have a schedule to keep. Maybe we should just keep going to another world and see if they have better medical supplies."

"There has to be something here," Amelia said, sounding frustrated.

"Maybe, but I don't know where I'd even begin to look. Some of the locals are friendly enough, but others run away as soon as they look at you."

Zidane murmured, "I don't really know if they're 'locals.' I mean, they all came from other worlds, right?"

Jim had a forlorn expression on his face. "I can't imagine what it's like," he whispered. "Losing your world like that."

Skuld's throat tightened.

The survivor was trying to sit upright again; carefully Skuld made her way over to him, reaching out to—

(She couldn't, she couldn't, she couldn't—)

She pulled her hands back. "Hello."

The survivor turned to her, blinking rapidly. "Where'm I? Where's m'pig?"
"I—you're in Traverse Town. I—I didn't see a—a pig?" She didn't think she knew what that was; Xehanort had shown her some things, Lea and Isa others, but there was still so much they'd left out, and the gaps in her memory made her want to scream, sometimes.

"Magic pig," the boy murmured, flopping back against the bed. "See th'future. Have to pr'tect." He paused, eyebrows furrowed.

"I think he hit his head a little too hard," Zidane murmured.

Jim elbowed him.

"Pigs can…see the future?" Skuld asked.

"Not normally," Jim said, giving Skuld a baffled look, and she felt her cheeks heat.

Zidane was staring at her with an expression she couldn't read; she turned away sharply, trying to push the image away.

"There were—m'nsters? Shadow things." He groaned, hand resting on his forehead. "Head hurts."

"You don't remember very well, do you?" Skuld whispered, and something in her chest ached. "You—you probably don't even know." There was a tangle of questions she wanted to ask—many of which she wasn't entirely sure how to phrase, all wrapped up in complicated emotions that she thought she could distill into something simpler: the vague feeling of some sort of connection.

But it made her think of Xehanort, and herself, and what had happened when she'd first been found, and—she didn't want to make things worse.

"He's not going to stay here forever, right?"

It took several moments for her to realize she was the one who'd spoken, and several more to realize that everyone in the room was staring at her. "Come again?" the doctor asked.

"The—the survivor. You're not going to keep him here."

"Well, I most certainly am until he's healed. But after that, he's free to leave."

Skuld's hands curled into fists, tight against her arms. "When is he considered 'healed?'"

"When that wound on his head is patched up and he can walk and talk without issue."

The doctor looked confused by the questions—and so did the others, all of them staring at Skuld like they thought she'd grown a second head. (But they didn't get it. The doctor seemed nice—but so had Xehanort, and he'd never once let her out of the cell, despite his promises that he'd help 'fix' her.) "I want to be here," she said, ignoring how the words churned in her stomach. "When you run tests on him."

The doctor opened and closed his mouth like he was trying to figure out what to say. After a few moments he just relented with a sigh. "So long as you don't get in the way."

Amelia was appraising her; she couldn't quite meet the captain's stare, so she turned and focused her attention somewhere on the far wall.

"So what are we doing, Captain?" Jim finally asked with a sigh.

Amelia was silent for several moments. "We'll stay here, for now," she murmured. "But we can't stay forever. We'll give it a couple days. If we can't find suitable accommodations for him here, then we'll have to search somewhere else."

---

-Skuld wasn't surprised when she woke up in a memory, but it did leave her feeling unspeakably tired. There was a horrible familiarity to it—in waking up in this cell, over and over and over again, almost like she'd never gotten out in the first place.

(Maybe she hadn't. Maybe she'd be in it for the rest of her life. And if she was—what would she do then?)

The door squealed open, and Skuld winced hard at the sound. Xehanort's expression was unreadable as he stepped inside. He wordlessly made his way across the cell, reaching for her arm.

His fingers brushed her hand, and she jerked away, snapping it to her chest. A part of her tried desperately to place the memory; many of the later ones had started to blur together, a familiar collection of similar events that all blended seamlessly in her mind.

Xehanort's eyes narrowed a little. "Subject X."

(Internally, she recoiled at the title. She still remembered when she'd first heard it; it hadn't been told to her by Xehanort or the other researchers, and she suspected that she hadn't been meant to find out at all. Instead, she'd overheard it mentioned off-handedly, in a conversation between Xehanort and one of the others.

She'd tried to ask about it, but the words had been difficult; she'd eventually managed to force out "X?", voice lilting enough that Xehanort had seemed to understand it was a question.

"We're using the term to refer to you," he'd explained, "since we don't know your name." He paused, lips pursed. "I—don't plan on using it when speaking to you, unless you say otherwise. It is an identifier, but not a name."

She hadn't really understood, at the time, but she'd nodded anyways.

He'd given her a small smile, then. "I hope one day," he said, "you'll be able to introduce yourself to me properly.")

"What's the hold up?" someone else snapped.

"Nothing," Xehanort said just as quickly. "We're coming." He turned back to her, then lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "You need to come out with me."

There was a deep-seated fear that made her recoil, her chest aching, her stomach turning, her arms shaking. She thought she probably said something, but the memory was still half-blurred by terror, blotchy and filled with static.

Xehanort's expression softened, just slightly. "I know," he murmured, "but this is the only way. I am working on alternatives, but until then—if we're able to get our memories back, this will be over. We won't have to run tests anymore. You'll be okay again."

Don't go with him, she screamed at herself silently. Fight back. Fight back. You have a Keyblade, fight back—

(But she hadn't known that, then. She'd just been Subject X.)

(Was she still?)

Xehanort reached for her, fingers wrapping tightly around her wrist. He pulled her to her feet, and she stumbled, trying to catch herself. Xehanort moved as if to steady her, then stopped, eyes flicking briefly behind him. He took a slow breath and led her out of her cell and towards the other researchers.

One was older, blond hair falling over his shoulders, eyeing her critically. The other was—young. Younger than her, even. The boy had never participated much in the experiments the others performed; he just watched, occasionally asking questions, and the older of the researchers would answer almost fondly.

(It had struck her as strange, even then, the difference in treatment—but she'd brushed it off, assuming it was just because the boy was meant to be learning about how everything worked. Now—well. She'd had plenty of time to start questioning Xehanort's methods.)

"Well?" the older researcher asked, raising an eyebrow. "This is your project, isn't it, Xehanort?" He gestured.

Xehanort straightened, clearing his throat. "Yes," he said, and it was like a veil had settled over him. His voice and expression turned clinical. Detached. When he looked at her, Skuld didn't recognize the person that she saw. "We'll begin by running some basic memory tests to see if anything can be triggered." Xehanort's expression flickered with something like hope, and the phantom ache of an emotion burned in her chest. It wouldn't work—but she'd been hopeful, too, at that point. "Should that fail, we will run some scans on the heart." Xehanort glanced at a machine, stationed at the far corner of the lab. "We will run some basic exploratory procedures to see what we can bring to the forefront."

An almost-numb part of her took the information and slotted it into place. This was still…early into the tests, she thought. After Xehanort had started carefully testing on her again. When he'd first brought on the others to help.

(But much of it the memory was still fuzzy, clouded by pain and fear and confusion. She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to be back here, didn't want to be back didn't want didn'twantdidn'twant—)

"Do you have the cards, Even?"

The other researcher gave Xehanort a scathing look, but pulled a stack of familiar flashcards out of his pocket. He lifted one and showed it to Skuld. "What is this?"

She couldn't remember what she said—couldn't remember what the card looked like, even—but she thought she'd recognized it. The world shifted a little, fuzzy; she knew that Even had quizzed her, knew that they'd gone through several cards searching for a reaction, knew that she'd stumbled over some of the words—but most of it was blurred, hazy behind the knowledge of what was coming. It was a strange sort of fear; quiet anticipation, not quite panic, because it wouldn't hurt, not like it had the first time, but the more she underwent the procedures, the more worn out and fractured she felt.

(Sometimes it seemed less like they were helping to bring back who she was and more like they were breaking down what remained.)

"There doesn't seem to have been much progress from last time," Even murmured.

Xehanort stared at him, stone-faced.

"How do we know this method is effective?"

"The machine is designed to reach into the heart and bring bits and pieces of memories to the forefront," Xehanort murmured, whisper harsh but firm. "It is a slow process. If it's too rushed, then it will hurt her."

"That isn't what I asked. I asked if it was effective. If this isn't working, then is it beneficial to continue pursuing this route?"

"Do you have a better alternative?"

Even pursed his lips.

"I have proven results. It has worked with others, but—it would not be prudent to rush things."

Even stared at him, as if trying to read between the lines.

(Skuld didn't need to, anymore. She'd seen enough to understand. Heartless. The others—they became Heartless.)

"Very well," Even said finally. "But I expect to see more about these 'results.'"

Xehanort turned to her, then, and somewhere deep inside her mind, something started screaming. No. No, no, no, you need to move, you need to run, you need to not be here—

Xehanort extended a hand towards her. Quietly, he murmured, "Do you trust me?"

Her lips formed into the facsimile of a smile, her hand reaching for his as if on puppet strings. Her fingers twitched over his palm, arm shaking, but she still took his hand and it burned.

Xehanort's fingers wrapped around hers like a vice. He tugged her closer and guided her onto the—table? Chair?—the testing place. He reached for the equipment, fastening things into place. The metal was cool against her chest, magic buzzing through her skin.

She was shaking, now, uncontrollably, and she hated it. (She couldn't do anything. She couldn't do anything, couldn't move, couldn't think—)

Over the rushing in her ears, she thought she could hear Xehanort say, "We'll begin the procedure."

Skuld wanted to close her eyes, but she found them locked on the screen near Xehanort, staring at what she assumed were vitals and readings of some sort. Sound faded until she could only hear her heartbeat. Black spots flickered across her vision, and her breathing came quicker, and—oh. She was panicking. She'd been panicking in the memory, too, she realized.

If she wasn't paying such close attention to Xehanort, she might have missed how he hesitated, eyes darting briefly back her way.

It didn't stop him from starting the device.

A now-familiar humming buzzed in her ears, making her skull vibrate. A hot-cold tingling sensation washed over her chest and spread up to her neck. Pinpricks of pain pulled at the back of her skin. She swallowed and tried to steady herself. Breathe, breathe, just breathe—

"Her heart is holding steady," Xehanort said; he sounded so calm that she wanted to scream at him. "I'm going to begin the extraction."

She didn't quite see what he did next; the pain in her chest changed from small, needle-like pricks to a burning sensation that spread across her torso. It intensified slowly, growing hotter, hotter, hotter, until it felt like a star had imploded in her ribcage, the heat of it bubbling into her throat and making her head spin.

(There was—something there. A fuzzy memory, just on the edge of her consciousness. Of someone waving at her from a fountain.)

Her head ached. Her heart thundered, an unsteady staccato rhythm that pulsed up her neck and jaw, but—it was bearable. The pain was bearable, if she just closed her eyes and 'll be over soon, she thought. It won't last forever, it'll be over soon, it'll be over—

(There were—no. There were two people. One had white hair and a red scarf, but his face was too blurred to make out. The other person was little more than buzzing static, but she got the sense that they were important. She took a few hesitant steps towards them, her heart aching.)

She thought someone was saying something. She couldn't make out what it was. She gritted her teeth and screwed her eyes shut. Her body shook, and she flexed her fingers, nails biting into her palms. Don't think about it. Don't think about it, don't think about it, focus on something else—

(The boy with the scarf shouted cheerfully at her, waving her over. She thought maybe he was saying her name. The other person didn't say anything, but she got the impression that they smiled. They came closer, reaching out and taking her hand.

Her eyes burned, and when they pulled her forward, she followed.)

She blinked, and suddenly, the pain felt like background noise, barely noticeable against the backdrop of everything else. She was—she wasn't in the lab anymore. The streets around her were hazy, like she was staring at them through a fog, but she could make out bright colors and the vague light of daybreak off in the distance. The gurgle of a fountain hit her ears; it was muted, almost, but it still brought with it an ache of familiarity.

"It's been a while," someone said; she felt like she knew the voice better than her own. "We haven't all gotten to hang out like this in a while, huh?"

"We haven't?" she whispered.

The other person—the one she couldn't see, the one she felt like she should know but didn't—nudged her. She tried to make out their face through the static and saw nothing.

"Hey," the boy said, "we should all go on a mission together!"

"Mission?" she repeated. She kept speaking, and the words didn't feel like her own. "We were supposed to be getting supplies, you know."

"— won't mind if we're late."

There was a name there. There was a name there, if she could just make it out—

Her head ached, and she grimaced, one hand flying to it. "Okay," she said, and the words still didn't feel right in her mouth; no matter how much it sounded like her voice, it felt like an entirely different person using it. "But if he yells at us, I'm blaming you."

The boy laughed, the sound bright and shining. "Come on! Last one to the mission board buys ice cream."

Her second friend glanced at her; she got the impression they were rolling their eyes, but that their expression was fond.

Pain split through her forehead, and she hissed, stumbling a little.

"Ready? Go!"

The boy took off, and she felt something in her panic. "Wait!" She started to shoot after him, and then—

(Something sharp in her chest. In her head. Everything buzzed. The world turned white, and she tasted something coppery.)

She gasped, falling to her knees. It didn't hurt—not like that phantom pain, still buzzing in the back of her mind. The world felt like it was crumbling around her, the bits of daybreak falling away into the fog. "Wait," she said, eyes burning; she tried to stand and couldn't, her knuckles scraping against the ground. "Wait. Don't go. I don't want—"

Someone wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

She blinked, then glanced at them.

Her other friend hadn't left. If she squinted, she thought she could almost—almost—make out some familiar features.

They looked worried. She didn't know why. Carefully they lifted her, cradling her against their chest.

"I can walk."

"You can't." The voice was familiar, but not coming from this person.

She furrowed her eyebrows. She blinked, but the world was still fuzzy, and it felt like she was swimming between reality and whatever dream world she'd fallen into.

She said something, she thought. A name, maybe. She couldn't remember, but whatever it was had made her friend freeze. "How do you…how do you know that…?"

"Know what?" someone else asked, and the voice sounded familiar, but it didn't sound like it should be here.

"Nothing. I—" Her friend looked at her, and—

And it wasn't them. It was Xehanort, staring at her like he'd seen a ghost.

Everything was still so hazy. She knew that she should probably be concerned, but she didn't know why.

"We—we will continue the experiments later," Xehanort said, his voice gruff, and then—

She was in her cell. She was in her cell, in the dark, alone, and her friend was leaving her—

(And it felt familiar. Like this had happened before.)

She shouted something. It felt like the same name from before.

Xehanort paused for a heartbeat, shoulders hitching, and then walked away, leaving her to deal with her murky memories alone.

---

-Skuld woke with a choked cry. She half-tumbled out of her chair, throwing out one hand to catch herself on the bed, the other pressed against her mouth. She closed her eyes and took several deep, steadying breaths. There was an ache in her chest—a painful, twisted thing that she couldn't quite ignore, wrapping around her heart and squeezing.

A desperate part of her wanted to call out for her friends. She wanted to talk to them. To explain all the heavy things that she was feeling and have them tell her it would be alright. To feel them nearby and know that things would be okay. But there was an emptiness where they should be, and she wanted to cry, because she couldn't remember their names or faces or—anything.

"I don't know where to look for you," she breathed, and felt the words catch in the back of her throat. "All I have is a Keyblade, and that gives me a place to start, but—but I don't know if you were Keyblade wielders, too. I don't know where you are. I don't know if you're safe or if you miss me or—anything."

She wished, almost inexplicably, for Xehanort, and she hated herself for it.

…She also wished for Lea and Isa. That was less distressing.

(She could almost—almost—imagine what they'd say if they were here.

"You know what? I bet your friends have been looking everywhere for you, too. Probably one of these days, they'll turn up out of nowhere."

"That doesn't just happen, Lea."

"Yeah, well, it could. And anyway, if they don't, then the three of us can just go looking for them."

"Right. I guess I'll have to make a plan to keep us from getting lost.")

Skuld managed a smile and a quiet laugh, even if that tightness in her chest hadn't really gone away. She scrubbed furiously at her eyes and settled in her chair again.

"'kay?"

Skuld started, then whipped around.

Brown eyes blinked back at her.

She'd—that's right. She'd chosen to stay in the room with the survivor. The room was quiet, right now; the doctor wasn't here at the moment, gone off to do something with the crew. But the survivor was awake, staring at her, and she found she suddenly wasn't sure what she should do.

"I—" She glanced away and took a steadying breath. "I'm fine. I think I should be asking you that."

The survivor blinked, still looking a little lost. "Head hurts."

"Yeah. It—it looks like it."

The survivor's head lolled to the side, and Skuld had a terrifying moment where she worried that he might have passed out or worse. But then he murmured, voice still slightly slurred, "Where'm I?"

"Traverse Town," Skuld murmured. "We've had this conversation before."

"Oh."

Skuld winced. "I didn't mean—" She broke off, then sighed. "Sorry. I know this has to be confusing for you."

(She wondered, suddenly, if this is what she was like when she was first found. She wondered how many conversations Xehanort and the others had repeated with her, before she was able to hold onto her memories without them slipping away.

…She wondered what she'd do if this boy couldn't end up keeping his.)

"What's your name?" she asked, and tried to keep some of the desperation out of her voice.

The boy didn't say anything at first. He just lolled his head to look at her, eyebrows furrowing a little. A heartbeat passed. Then another. And then: "Taran."

Tension bled out of Skuld's shoulders. "Taran. Okay. What do you remember?"

Taran blinked slowly at her. "S'mthing—bad happened. Horned King. There was—pig. Hen Wen. She saw—monsters. Some sort of—" His eyes went wide suddenly, and he bolted upright so quickly that Skuld feared he'd fall over. "The others," he breathed, and suddenly he was trying to scramble out of bed. "Eilonwy. Gurgi. They were—where are they?"

"You need to stay down," Skuld told him, half-panicked, hands hovering over his shoulders but not quite willing to touch him. "You're still hurt."

"No, no, they—there were m'nsters—" He started to try and slide out of bed and collapsed back onto the sheets.

Skuld's hands shook over him. "We didn't find anyone with you," she whispered, and it felt like the echo of a memory.

("You were the only one we found. I'm sorry.")

She swallowed, the emptiness in her chest yawning wider. "But they might be okay," she continued, frantic, and the words tasted like the ash of a falling world. "You—they might be around here, somewhere. I can try to find them, but you have to stay in bed."

Taran looked at her, something half-hopeful in his eyes.

"Do you remember what they look like?"

Taran looked like he was going to answer, then paused, eyebrows creasing as he frowned. He groaned, one hand on his forehead. "Hurts."

"I—I know. You don't have to try right away. You just—"

The door creaked open.

Skuld's attention snapped towards it. Starlight hummed in the back of her mind, ready to spring to her fingertips.

The doctor made his way into the room slowly, Blank trailing behind him. "Alright," the doctor murmured, setting his stuff on his chair. "Let's see now—oh. I'd forgotten you stayed here."

Skuld tensed.

The doctor looked at her and sighed. "Very well. I suppose I should begin the examination, hmm?"

The word made something slimy crawl down Skuld's neck. She flexed her fingers and tried hard not to think about it.

The doctor approached Taran, giving him a careful look. "Hmm. You seem like you've been trying to move about. That's not good for your injuries, you know."

Taran gave him a long look.

The doctor sighed, then pulled something out of his bag.

"What's that?" Skuld asked sharply.

"A flashlight." He flicked it on for emphasis.

"Oh." Skuld's face heated, but she still watched him carefully, leaning forward as the doctor shone the light in Taran's eyes.

"My dear, you don't need to hover. I need to be able to work."

Skuld pulled back, but eyed him critically, watching as the doctor squinted skeptically at his charge.

The doctor, for his part, steadfastly ignored her. He made a quiet humming sound, putting the flashlight away and pulling out another instrument. Skuld's breath hissed through her teeth as the doctor placed it against Taran's heart. "I just need to check his heartbeat."

Skuld's shoulders were rigid, eyes glued to instrument, half-waiting for the moment that Taran would jolt upward in pain.

(She could feel Blank staring at her. She tried not to think about it.)

The doctor pulled away, then rummaged through his bag.

Skuld hovered over Taran, trying to check for any sign that something was wrong.

A frustrated sigh. "Get back," said the doctor. "We're not going to get anywhere if you keep getting in the way like that." The doctor moved, and Skuld's fingers tingled with energy as he'd started reaching towards her—

Blank caught the doctor's arm and stopped him.

Skuld whipped towards him.

"Don't touch," Blank said quickly. He turned towards Skuld. "Zidane said you're not a fan of that, right?"

He…did? She nodded dumbly, thrown off-kilter.

"Okay. So no touching. But the doctor really does need to work. The kid's not going to get better if you don't let him."

"But what if—" What if he does something bad? What if he says he's helping but he's actually hurting him? What if I could stop something like that from happening?

"He's not going to hurt him."

"You don't know that."

The doctor made a spluttering noise, but Skuld ignored him, focusing solely on Blank.

Blank didn't seem nearly as bothered by the attention. "I guess I don't," he agreed, and seemed immune to the offended noises from the doctor. "But tell you what: I can get Zidane in here to watch him. You trust Zidane, right?"

Did she? He was—friendly. Not quite a friend, but—he'd helped her. So— "Yes."

"Okay. So Zidane can come and watch things and make sure nothing bad happens. And he'll tell you if he notices anything. In the meantime, you probably have other stuff you want to get done—stuff that you can't do in here. So this will let you do that, too."

She did want to go looking for more information on her friends. And if someone was paying attention to what was going on, then—

She took a shaking breath, clenching her fists closed tightly. "Okay."

"Great. I can go and get Zidane, and you two can trade off. The doctor won't do anything while I'm gone."

"And since when have you been in charge?" the doctor grumbled, but he pulled back, and Skuld felt herself relaxing.

Blank's lips ticked upwards into a smile. "I'll be back soon," he promised, then turned and slipped out the door.

Alone with the doctor and Taran now, Skuld found herself fidgeting, still casting sidelong glances the doctor's way.

He sighed. "I really won't do anything while he's gone. Not that I'm entirely certain what your concern is, but I suppose if it allows me to do my job…"

Skuld narrowed her eyes.

The minutes ticked by slowly. Skuld felt like she was constantly on-edge, just waiting for something to happen—though she wasn't sure what that would be. She kept fidgeting, tapping her foot, playing with her scarf, resisting the urge to summon Starlight and fiddle with that.

When Blank came back with Zidane, it was an immense relief. Some of the tension bled out of her shoulders, the nervous energy flicking away.

Zidane had a curious sort of expression on his face. "Told I'm doctor-sitting."

That startled a laugh out of Skuld, and she almost cut it off, surprised at herself.

Zidane grinned. "Well," he continued, "I guess that means you're off the hook for now, eh?" He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. More gently, he continued, "I'll keep a close eye on him, alright?"

Skuld felt silly, almost, now that some of the nerves were bleeding away. Still— "Thank you."

"Sure. Now go on, go do your Keyblade thing."

Skuld nodded, and slipped out the door. It shut with a quiet click behind her.

Without being inside the inn, keeping watch, she felt…almost disconnected. Like she wasn't entirely sure what she should do with herself. She flexed her fingers, shifting on her feet and trying not to feel too lost. Start looking for information. Just—just get moving. Find something to do. She took a breath and started forward.

Traverse Town was as quiet as it usually was. She didn't see much in the way of inhabitants—but she caught glances of the crew more occasionally, wandering around the streets, shouting boisterously to each other, exploring the different nooks and crannies of the town. Skuld found her gaze drawn to them almost against her will.

A group of crew members sat at one of the buildings, their voices carrying across the street. They sounded cheerful, almost, the lot of them babbling excitedly.

Skuld slowed. She caught the eye of another crew member almost by accident and watched them freeze. Oh, no.

"Marge? Hey, what's up?" The table quieted slowly as the rest of them slowly turned to see what their friend had noticed.

Skuld watched them stiffly, debating about whether she should just turn and leave, or if she should try to say something.

One of them—Marge, the one who had noticed her first—lifted her hand in a wave. "Uh. Hey, Keyslinger."

"H-hey."

"You—you want to join us?"

Her companion elbowed her with a hiss.

"What? If she's going to be part of the crew—"

"You just want to take the life out of everything, don't you? Besides, she probably doesn't even want to join us." He turned to Skuld. "Right?"

"I—" (She didn't know if she had an answer to that; she thought maybe that she did, because a part of her still felt achingly alone, but she thought of Xehanort, and of her argument with the crew the other day, and everything she still had to do, and—) "I can't."

"Oh. Uh, right."

She didn't leave right away, and the lot of them stayed there in awkward silence.

"You, uh—you having fun?"

Skuld's shoulders hitched. "Traverse Town is a place for people who lost their worlds."

"That's not—geez, why do you have to be so damn uptight? I was just trying to make conversation."

Skuld swallowed back a response, something almost guilty fluttering in her chest. "I—sorry. I didn't—sorry." She shifted a little. "I'm just—I'm going to go." She turned on her heel and practically fled, hurrying further into Traverse Town.

Once the table was out of sight, she ran her hands over her face with a frustrated breath. Stupid. They were just trying to be friendly. Why can't you just relax?

A wisp of pink fire flickered beside her face. She wasn't entirely surprised to see the fox, sitting and watching her expectantly.

She sighed, and hoped she didn't sound too frustrated. "Hi."

The fox lifted her head. She stood and approached Skuld, waiting at her side.

"You're just coming to see what I'm doing, huh?"

The fox blinked.

"You could help me."

The fox twitched her tail and tilted her head.

Skuld couldn't help her frustrated sigh. "I don't understand you," she murmured. "You bring me to that keyhole, you help us escape from that Heartless, and now you're just—following me."

The fox made a cheerful, trilling sort of sound and trotted along beside her.

Skuld felt her expression soften, even if she was still a little annoyed. "I guess at least it means I have some company."

The fox flicked her tail, a couple small bursts of fire snapping free. With a toss of her head, she darted down the street.

"Wait!" Skuld scrambled to follow her.

The fox paused briefly, glancing back as if to make sure Skuld was still there. She almost seemed to smile, then launched herself onto the rooftops, scrambling over the buildings.

Something almost hopeful fluttered in Skuld's chest. Does she actually have something to show me? Is there something here that I missed? She hadn't had much time to explore Traverse Town, and she could've easily passed over something. She picked up the pace, eyes tracking the flickers of pink as they went across the rooftop. She skidded awkwardly around buildings, trying to avoid colliding with people as she did, the rest of Traverse Town turning into a blur around her.

The fox finally—finally—left the rooftops and returned to the street, jumping on top of the fountain in the Second District.

Skuld hurdled over the barrier rather than taking the stairs, slowing as she drew closer, panting as she tried to catch her breath.

The fox glanced at her, then looked pointedly at the fountain.

Skuld's eyebrows furrowed. There was something in the back of her mind that said this was almost familiar. That she should know this scene. Cautiously she moved forward, hand lifting as if to touch the structure.

Small bursts of water bubbled from the bottom of the fountain, creating a broken wall of water that made it difficult to see. But beyond that, she caught sight of what looked like a mural, blue butterflies fluttering across the surface. And—

Something light. Something that glimmered as she stared at it, slowly forming into the shape of a—

Keyhole.

Skuld's breath caught in her throat. Something like a starburst spread outward from her chest.

A quiet, bell-like sound flickered through the back of her head. Light flashed into her palm, and Starlight's familiar weight settled there, the Keyblade practically thrumming with delight. I didn't call it, she thought, and her mind flicked back to the keyhole in the cave.

The fox tilted her head.

Skuld's eyes darted to her, to the keyhole, and back again. "What is this?" she whispered, the hand holding her Keyblade shaking. "What is this supposed to mean?"

The fox didn't move.

Skuld took a stumbling step closer. "Please," she said. "You have to tell me something. Why am I seeing keyholes like this? What does locking them mean?" She lifted Starlight, showing it to the fox. "What am I supposed to do?"

(Do you really want to know?)

Skuld blinked. The world rocked slightly. "I—what?" Her head ached. There was a familiar sort of burning in her chest—an uncomfortable heat, her heart shuddering in the memory. It reminded her, almost, of the experiments with Xehanort, and she tried to stuff down the almost-panicked response to the feeling.

And then the world blurred. The fountain in Traverse Town seemed to shift, changing style, the world behind it rearranging itself into—

Something else. Another place. Someplace that made her homesick just to look at it, purple-hued buildings framed against the gentle light of the breaking day.

"This is home," Skuld realized, blinking away tears. "This is—this is where I lived." Her eyes snapped to the fox. "With my friends."

The fox rested on the edge of the fountain, now. She watched Skuld and said nothing.

Someone shouted. The voice was familiar, and Skuld choked on a sob. She turned, and—

They were there. She still couldn't remember their names, and their features were as blurred as much of the town seemed to be, but she'd recognize them anywhere.

She'd charged towards them before she even realized she'd moved, wrapping her arms around the four of them as best she could. It was a startling sort of action, something she'd been half sure she couldn't still do, and she laughed, breathless, because with them it didn't hurt. (They were safe.) She knew it wasn't real—she knew it—but it almost felt like it was, and she squeezed tightly.

One of them laughed, saying something that she almost thought sounded like, "Miss us?"

An incredulous snort from another. From another, a quiet, light voice asking, "Are you okay?"

A hand on her head, someone whispering, "Give her time."

"You're not here," she whispered. "You're not here, but—I wish you were." She pulled away from them reluctantly, their arms releasing her, and gave them a hopeless look. "What happened to you? Where—where am I supposed to look to find you?"

Her friends didn't answer—not that she was surprised. She didn't think they really had answers to give, and it made a familiar thing in her chest ache.

("What, you don't remember anything at all?"

She winced, trying not to feel too frustrated at the comment. "No," she said, and the word came out stiff.

A thud and a quiet, "Ow!" came from outside the cell.

"Nice going, Lea."

"I had to ask!"

"I'm sorry about him."

"It's okay," she'd whispered, the words grating against her throat. "I don't mind. Everyone already knows."

Silence came from the other side of the door.

She found herself prompted to continue, desperate to try and fill it. "I—I guess I know some things. I have these—dreams. Of people I used to know. I can never remember what they looked like or sounded like when I wake up, but I know they were important to me." Her throat tightened, and she continued, "There were four of them. We're—we're always in this field of flowers, outside of town. I don't know what we're doing there, but I never mind. It's nice. It's—"

(Better than a cell.)

Silence, again, her voice trailing away.

"What happened?" Lea whispered, and it sounded more like he was talking to himself than to her. "How did you get separated from—?"

"Lea."

"Right. Sorry."

"I don't know," she whispered. "I wish I did.")

"Why are you showing me this?" Skuld whispered, glancing at the fox.

The flames around the fox seemed to burn brighter, and suddenly, she and her friends weren't the only ones in that blurry, bright town. Others—people her age, some younger, some older—ran about the streets. She couldn't make out faces or voices in the chaos, but she caught sight of a familiar weapon, clutched in the hands of each person. Keyblades.

"There were more of us," she whispered. "There were—I came from a whole town of Keyblade wielders?" She reached for one, hesitantly, and watched as her hand passed through them.

Someone shouted—something. It took her a moment to realize they were shouting at her. And the others, too, she realized, watching us some of them went up to her friends. What is—?

The fox wobbled. The image destabilized, the fractured features of the town warping away as the fox fell, tumbling into the fountain.

Skuld lunged, hands outstretched to catch her.

(Can't, can't, can't—

But she's hurt.)

Skuld hesitated briefly.

The fox lay where she fell. The water hadn't put out the flames—not entirely—but they seemed duller than they had before. Smaller.

Skuld bit her lip. She stretched out one shaking hand, watching as it hovered over the fox's prone body. Her fingers slipped through the water, droplets falling against her skin. She nearly yanked her hand back heat licked her palms, then took a steadying breath and, after a moment, kept going.

The fox was warm, but she didn't burn like Skuld had almost expected. She carefully pulled the animal from the water, cradling her in her arms.

The fox blinked at her, looking tired.

"You—you can't do that very often, can you?"

The fox huffed a sigh, head flopping over her arms. She sounded frustrated.

"Did you come from that town, too? Is that why you could show it to me?"

The fox made a quiet chittering sound.

Skuld gave a wet laugh. "Right. You can't—you can't tell me anything." She was silent for several moments. Then, slowly, she sat on the fountain's edge, ignoring the spray of water against her back. "I guess we're both kind of lost, huh?"

"Woah," someone breathed, "what is that?"

The fox lifted her head, then disappeared in a snap.

Skuld swung around, shoulders hitching.

A kid was sprinting towards her, eyes wide. They had a large jacket and larger eyes, pockets sewn all over their clothes. They skidded to a halt next to her; she jerked away a little, trying to give herself more space, but the kid didn't seem to notice, head darting back and forth. "Where'd it go?"

"Jessy," came a tired voice. An older woman followed after them, giving them a stern look. "Don't bother her."

"I'm not. I just wanted to see the—hey, what was that thing?"

Skuld realized abruptly that the kid was talking to her, and she stammered, "A—a fox."

"The fox." The kid—Jessy—frowned. "Wait, that didn't look like a normal fox."

The woman sighed and gave Skuld an apologetic look. "You'll have to forgive them," she said tiredly. "They just get excited about seeing new things."

"Well, duh." Jessy lifted their chin and placed their hands on their hips. "How else am I supposed to learn about stuff?" They turned to Skuld and added, "I'm going to explore all the worlds when I get older. I have to find out as much as possible before then."

"That's—that's great."

"It is," Jessy agreed with a nod. They rifled in their pockets. "I'm collecting cool stuff that I find—look!" They fished out a collection of items that didn't look like much to Skuld: some crinkled bits of paper, a broken top, a couple buttons.

"They're…nice?"

The woman just looked incredibly tired. "When did you pick up this?" she asked, pulling a piece of paper free.

Jessy leapt to swipe at it. "Hey, don't take that! It could be, like, a letter to someone's dad or sister or partner or something."

"It's a shopping list."

"That they were going to send to someone!"

The woman shook her head, then handed the paper back.

Skuld fidgeted awkwardly. Should I leave? I have other things to do, and I'll need to get back to Taran eventually—

Jessy rounded on her, and suddenly she found herself frozen in place. "Okay," they said, "so now you have to show me something cool."

"Um…"

"Jessy," the woman scolded, "that's rude."

"Grandma, come on! She came with those off-world people. Plus I didn't get a good look at that fox-thing."

"No, no, you've given me enough grief trying to keep you from harassing them. Come on, now."

"Ah."

"I—" Skuld faltered, feeling a little sheepish. "I don't really have much to show you. But—" She paused, concentrating. She stretched out her hand, and Starlight burst into it with a quiet shink.

Jessy's eyes grew wide. "Woah." They moved closer, hands lifting as if to touch it.

Skuld pulled away uncertainly.

Jessy didn't seem bothered by it; they just stood there, staring almost awe-struck at the weapon. "You have a magic sword."

"Keyblade."

"Is that what it's called? What's it do?"

"It—it can do a lot of things. It can make things float, or summon fire. And it can lock or unlock anything." She rubbed a thumb along the handle, something wistful and sad twisting in her chest. "I'm still figuring a lot of it out myself."

Jessy nodded, seeming to accept that answer without much protest.

Skuld felt eyes on her; she turned a little, and realized that the older woman was giving her a scrutinizing look.

She glanced away quickly, dismissing Starlight.

"Aw, come on."

"Jessy," the older woman said sharply, "that's enough. What do you say?"

Jessy still looked a little mutinous, but they turned to Skuld anyways and said, "Thank you."

"You're—you're welcome."

"Good," the older woman said. "Now, go find your friends. I'm sure they'd love to hear about this."

Jessy's eyes lit up. "You're right!" They darted off, turning briefly to wave. "Bye, sword lady!"

Skuld waved awkwardly back, but her heart had started pounding, her shoulders hitching as she gave the older woman a side-long glance.

The woman had a wistful sort of smile on her face as she watched the child dart off. "Always in a hurry, that one," she murmured. "We've been here a long time, now. I don't think they even remember their home world. But I do." Something sad filled the lines on her face. "We didn't have any idea that there were places outside our small home. It was just us and our fields. When the end came—we never even knew to be worried. One moment, everything was alright. The next, there were monsters on our doorstep."

Skuld's throat tightened.

"I didn't stop to watch. When I saw what was happening, I grabbed Jessy and ran. Didn't know where I was going. I just wanted to get them as far away from everything as possible. They were so young then." She wrung her hands together. "I left my son behind. And my daughter-in-law. And their older kids. I couldn't carry everyone, but—I still regret it." She took a shuddering breath. "It might have just been dumb luck that we ended up here, but it at least's given us somewhere to stay and rebuild."

"Why are you telling me this?" Skuld whispered.

"Because you've lost something, too, haven't you? I could tell when you looked at that weapon of yours. It might have been a world, might not have. I don't know. But I know what that feels like—to suddenly realize that so much of what you've known is just gone. And I just thought—well. It helps to have a friendly face, sometimes."

Something tightened in Skuld's chest.

"Anyway. The folk here—well, everyone's a little on-edge. That happens when you lose a world. Family. You'll hear different stories—strange people showing up before disasters, terrifying monsters, huge world-destroying machines. It's all the same, in the end." She gave Skuld a kind smile. "Everyone's still struggling with their own demons, but we all have each other's backs. So if you ever need someone to talk to—" She shrugged.

Skuld didn't know if she should feel grateful or distressed or confused; it felt like everything had tangled in knots in her chest. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I—I don't—"

"It's okay if you can't talk about it, too. Sometimes it just feels like things are too much."

("Hey, what's wrong? You're still in there, right?"

A quiet tap against the metal.

"Not much of a talker, huh?"

"Don't worry, this loudmouth will talk for the both of you."

"Hey!")

It had been a while since she'd felt like words wouldn't come; she didn't think she minded too much, this time.

The woman gave her a tiny smile. She didn't say anything as she left, turning to go after her grandchild.

---

-"Xehanort," Skuld asked, her voice quiet, "why am I in a cell?"

It was something she'd wanted to ask, for a while. In the beginning, she hadn't thought to question it; things had been too confusing—too new—and she'd really only known one thing. (She didn't quite know what she'd assumed of Xehanort and the other researchers; she didn't think she'd believed they'd been in cells, too, but—it hadn't dawned on her that something was wrong. It was just the way things were.)

But now—now, she thought of Lea and Isa. And—

("You know it's not normal, right? Being locked in a cell."

Skuld's shoulders tensed, and something ugly curdled in her chest. "I don't have any memory."

"And that's a reason to keep you locked up?" Lea asked, incredulous.

"I'm not—Xehanort's trying to help."

"Right."

"He is. He's my friend."

"Then why doesn't he let you go?"

Lea's voice had almost risen to a shout—furious, just barely contained, eyes blazing and shoulders shaking. Isa, for once, didn't try and correct him, looking away with his lips pressed flat.

Skuld hadn't expected the anger that had risen hot in her throat. Or the doubt, more terrifying, looming like a specter as she scrambled for an answer and couldn't find one. Somehow, that made her angrier. "He has his reasons."

"…Right.")

Xehanort was quiet for several long, long moments. He was sitting in the cell—close, but not so close that they could touch. (She hadn't been able to stand his touch much, these days—or any touch, really. Everything reminded her of being dragged out for tests, and the pain and confusion and exhaustion thereafter.) "Why do you ask?"

There was something about that that struck her as odd—a flash of a warning, somewhere in the back of her mind, that this was not how this conversation should go. "I just—heard something from someone," she said, choosing her words carefully. "That most people don't stay in cells."

Xehanort didn't answer right away, and as the seconds ticked by, Skuld found herself growing more and more uncertain. "You need to be here," he said carefully, "so that we can—" He broke off, eyes darting about, as if searching for answers. "You need to be monitored," he said finally. "So that we can see how your memory reclamation is progressing."

"But what about you?" she found herself asking. She hadn't even entirely meant to, really, and something in her recoiled when Xehanort flashed her a look that was almost angry.

(It wasn't always like this, she thought, and for a moment she was in a different memory. Something happier. Something that she could almost imagine was good, if she didn't think about the cell still surrounding her.

"I had a dream, the other night," Xehanort said, and he was quiet, but there was something almost excited in his voice; Skuld had learned to pick it out, after so many late-night visits and quiet testing sessions. "There were these tall mountains—taller than anything I'd ever seen. And there was this castle—or a clock tower?" He paused, frowning, then shook his head and continued. "There were people there. I couldn't see their faces or make out what they were saying, but their voices were kind. I knew that they were friends."

The words hadn't been working well that day—and they often didn't, whenever Skuld tried to reach into her memories—but she'd smiled and nudged him with a toe to encourage him to go on.

He'd flashed her a rare smile—small, always just the tiniest bit of joy in his eyes, but genuine, nonetheless. "One day I hope to find that place," he said. "Perhaps, when our memories return, we can both go find it.")

"Xehanort," she said, and her voice came out raw and painful, "what happens if I never get my memories back?"

"We will."

"But—"

"We will." Xehanort didn't look at her, but there was a fierce, desperate, angry thing in his expression. "There is no other option. I need to know—" He broke off, face contorting with something almost frustrated. "I'm going to set things right. One day."

She'd wanted to ask what he meant. She couldn't quite bring herself to.

Xehanort let out a slow breath. "But you need to stay here until then."

("When will I get to see—everything else?"

Xehanort had an almost-pained expression on his face that he covered up quickly. "Soon," he murmured. "I promise.")

"You don't have to observe me from a cell," she muttered.

Xehanort shot her a sharp look, and she flinched in on herself. "We have all of our equipment here," he said, and he seemed to make an effort to make his voice sound gentler. "We would not be able to properly examine things should we leave."

(Is getting our memories back really so important? some desperate part of her wanted to ask, still rubbed raw from endless experiments.

…She realized she had no idea how long she'd been in this cell. How much longer would Xehanort and the others keep her, if they couldn't get what they wanted from her?)

Xehanort stood, heading for the door, and she didn't know whether she was distressed or relieved. He paused, one hand gripping the doorframe, then glanced back at her. "This is for your benefit," he said, and she almost thought he believed it.

(It's not, she answered silently. It's for yours.)

---

-Skuld quickly discovered that Taran was a bit different from her. Whereas she'd struggled to talk, lips sealed shut by memories she didn't entirely have, Taran seemed anxious to interact, trying to create conversations from slurred words and half-remembered bits and pieces of his history.

"There were these—monsters."

"Mm-hm," Skuld responded, fighting a grin despite herself.

"Yeah, they were—the Horned King made them from—something. Someone told them how to make them."

Skuld's eyebrows furrowed a little as she tried to piece that together.

"Found a magic sword to fight them."

Skuld straightened immediately.

"Just—just this great big sword, but magic."

She slumped. It was worth hoping for.

"Man," a new voice said, "you're more talkative than I thought you'd be."

Skuld whipped around.

Zidane stood in the doorway. "Not that that's a bad thing," he said with a shrug.

"Here to take over?"

"Sure, if you want. Could also just stay and chat, you know." He flopped on the floor.

Skuld snorted, despite herself. "Isa would call you a drama queen."

It took her a moment to realize her slip-up, but Zidane took it in stride, shrugging from where he lay. "Theater Troupe," he reminded her.

"Right." Something strangely disappointed settled in her chest.

They were silent for several long, long moments—long enough that Skuld almost got up and left. Then, quietly, Zidane murmured, "You know, I never really thought about what it'd be like to just lose your home."

Skuld's eyes snapped towards him.

Zidane stared at the ceiling, expression unreadable. "I didn't know where I came from, but at least I still had people to care about me. To lose everything—"

It felt like a weight had settled in Skuld's chest—but when she glanced at Taran and saw his shadowed expression, a different sort of grief flickered through it. She cleared her throat.

Zidane glanced at her, then at Taran. He winced. "Guess that's not the best topic of conversation."

Skuld hesitated a moment, then dropped to the floor to join him. "Is it bothering you?" she whispered, quiet enough that it wouldn't carry. "The fallen world?"

"What, me? Nah." He paused. "Maybe a little."

Skuld nodded. "Me, too."

"…Losing your memories. Did it feel anything like…?" Zidane winced. "That's probably not a great conversation, either."

It's not, she thought, but she knew he didn't mean anything bad by it. "A little, I think."

Zidane hummed an acknowledgement.

Skuld fidgeted. "Do you," she paused, considering her offer. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Zidane raised his eyebrows at her.

"It's just—you've talked to me about things, to try and help. So I should return the favor."

He laughed quietly. "That's the only reason, huh?" He was quiet for several moments. "Not right now," he said finally. "I think I still need to process it a bit."

Skuld nodded, not quite sure what else she should do with that.

Zidane sat up, finally, and jerked a thumb to the door. "Go on. I know you want to keep exploring."

Despite the offer, Skuld still hesitated half a moment. I'm being silly. Taran'll be fine.

(She wasn't entirely sure that was the reason she was hesitating.)

Skuld stood slowly, starting towards the door.

"Hey, Skuld?"

She paused.

Zidane gave her a smile, softened with an understanding she'd started to grow familiar with. "I hope you find them."

---

-Skuld felt a strange sort of kinship with the people of Traverse Town. If being with the crew of the R.L.S Legacy made her feel like she was being drowned by their eyes and expectations, being around this world's inhabitants made her feel like she was floating gently downstream. There was something familiar, in the vaguely-wary glances they sent towards the crew, in the faint spark of hope and the terror every time someone new came to town, in the way they would flit carefully out of sight of people they weren't comfortable around.

But, perhaps more than that, there was something achingly familiar about the pieces of themselves they tried to put back into the world. Of the bits of graffiti that, on closer inspection, bore drawings of places Skuld had never seen or fragments of sayings or just colorful, bright expressions of the self that screamed that someone was here. Of the mismatched clothes that had been hung out to dry on one of the older buildings. Of the fliers that advertised live readings of stories from different worlds—fragments that their residents had carried with them, in heart or in hand.

It screamed of seeking a place to belong. Of trying to cling to the only bits and pieces you had of (yourself) your home, and putting them together and hoping that you could make something fit.

It maybe wasn't so surprising, then, that Skuld found herself gravitating towards the other residents after that first encounter. At first, things were…quiet. Hesitant. She and one of the residents might stand near each other, staring at the same building, or give each other a quick nod as they passed, or just sit and rest in the same space. Then, slowly, bits and pieces of information or advice were passed on; quiet words from one to another, gathered closely and held like treasure.

From an older gentleman, who'd casually steered her away from one of the darker areas of town: "Keep a light with you in that area. Keeps the monsters at bay."

Monsters? "If you need someone to fight them—I can get rid of them."

"It's appreciated, but I won't ask that of you, now. Won't tell you to stop, either, though."

From a woman in a bakery, creating foods Skuld had no name for: "I've got a couple recipes I could pass along, if you want to make something more interesting."

"Okay. I—I can see if our cook knows anything."

From a couple kids, running about the back streets: "Look, the idea of the game is to keep the ball in the air for as long as possible. Bet you can't beat my high score!"

She'd grinned, and then summoned her Keyblade, to the delight of the kids. And then she'd barely been able to keep the ball in the air for three hits, which brought the children even more joy.

At first, she mostly intended to ask about things related to the Keyblade: about the name 'Ephemer,' about mysterious keyholes, about the fox that seemed to shadow her wherever she went. But it quickly became less about finding answers for herself and more about exchanging stories—hearing about ancient heroes from different places, funny anecdotes about something someone had done on their home world, learning brief lessons about baking and metal craft and so much more.

"It keeps it close," someone had explained to her, once. "The memories get blurry after a while, and it's hard sometimes to recall what things were like. It's good to share those memories with others; keeps them alive."

(And if she couldn't share many stories of her own, the others didn't seem to mind. There was a knowing sort of look that said the speaker understood—though she didn't know if they understood the right thing or not.)

It was through this method that she eventually found out why there were no actual doctors' offices in the area.

"Don't have any doctors here," a kind-looking older individual had informed her. "But we share what we know with each other. Us world outcasts have to stick together, eh?"

"You—do you have medicine? It's just—we brought in a survivor from a fallen world, a couple days ago. We've been trying to help him, but—"

"But not having much luck, eh? I can get some people around to take a look at him."

(The doctor had been surprised but pleased at the discovery that there were other people who could help. Privately, it made something in Skuld relax. These people were like her. It made letting them interact with Taran feel a little less daunting.)

---

-Skuld's skin crawled. Not many of the crew had left the ship, but those that had generally gathered in the same place, sitting at the same tables. Skuld had intended to stay with Taran, but she'd been evicted by Zidane, who'd said something like, "Go on, relax! Bond with the crew a little. Have fun." Now she found herself tucked into one corner awkwardly, trying not to draw attention to herself.

(It wasn't entirely effective. She could still feel their eyes sliding to her, every now and again.)

She shook her head. Absently she pulled out the book of fairytales, resting it on her lap. She turned to where she'd marked her place, hoping to try and make a little more progress.

'Neither Shadow nor Starlight knew how to find this legendary route to the gods' domain. The Stairway to the Sky was said to be impossible to find by mortal means, hidden in the deepest darkness, past countless monsters who would wait to devour anyone who tried to reach the path. But they were not entirely mortal, and they were made to fight the monsters. And so they set out, Starlight guiding the way, as she had always done, and Shadow trailing behind, determined to find a route through to the gods.

'The first person they stumbled upon was an old farmer. "Excuse me, sir," Shadow said, "we need some help."

'"Well. Tell me what it is, and I'll see what I can do."

'"We're looking for the Stairway to the Sky. We're trying to find our friend, and the gods promised to return him if we could reach their realm."

'The farmer had looked alarmed, then, and told them, "It's nothing but a myth—and even if it wasn't, you would never survive long enough to get there."

'"Even so," pressed Shadow, "can you tell us what you know?"

'The farmer had not wanted to, but with some pressing, he finally relented and said, "They say that if you follow the rising sun, you will come to a place filled with shadow. Travel through the darkness, and you will eventually reach a place where nothing—not even the monsters—can reach you. Go beyond that, and you will find a light. That is the only way to reach the gods' realm."

'The two thanked the farmer, and they continued on their journey. But following the rising sun across many different worlds seemed impossible, and so they were forced to stop and ask another for assistance.

'The second person they spoke to was an elderly woman. "Excuse me," Starlight said, "we are looking for the Stairway to the Sky. A farmer told us that we could follow the rising sun to find it, but we have not been able to follow it across the many different worlds."

'"That's because you can't," the old woman had replied. "You need to find someone who knows the way. They can help you chase the sun into the darkness."

'"And where do we find someone like that?"

'"It's hard to say. Most who know the old paths are gone, now. But monsters are said to come from the deepest darkness; if you find one, then you may be able to convince it to lead you back home."

'Finding a monster that would help was difficult for the two; they had been made to slay monsters, not speak with them, and many were wary of their blades. Most either fled at the sight of them or attacked outright, and they could not speak to any. And so, they were forced to stop and ask for assistance once more: this time, from a fox, ever watching from the shadows and delighting in the chaos.

'"You will never catch a monster that way," she said. "If you want to catch a monster, you must trick it."

'"How do we do that?" Shadow had asked.

'"Think like a monster."'

Loud shouts interrupted her reading, and she'd moved before she'd realized, chair toppling backwards, book falling, Keyblade flashing into her hand.

A couple crew members stared at her.

She stared wordlessly back at them. "I—"

"We're just talking," said one, careful, like he expected her to hit him.

"Oh." She lowered Starlight slowly. "I'm—you can go back to talking." She bent to pick up her book, ignoring how her cheeks heated. She considered trying to find a more secluded area, but she wasn't sure there was one, and so she awkwardly shoved herself back in the corner, trying to keep herself out of sight.

It took a moment for the other crew members to regain their energy, and Skuld felt a flash of guilt. I did that. Then, frustration. If I wasn't so jumpy, maybe the rest of them wouldn't be on-edge around me.

…Maybe I shouldn't be here, at all.

Someone jumped from their seat.

Skuld started, but didn't swing Starlight, this time.

The crew member dragged another out onto the streets, and the two spun around and around in a hectic sort of dance. The rest cheered and laughed, shouting encouragements or playful jeers.

It looked like fun. It made Skuld almost want to join, and for half a moment, she thought about going closer.

But they aren't going to want you there. They tried to invite you in after that world fell, and you blew it. Don't ruin this for them.

Skuld swallowed her longing and leaned back, trying to disappear in the shadows. I wish Lea and Isa were here. I wish I had brought them with me. I wish I had—someone else.

(It was a selfish thought, but it was one she couldn't shake. If she closed her eyes, she could see the picture clearly: Lea would probably coerce her into dancing, despite her reservations, and Isa would make fun of them but he'd have a familiar teasing glint to his eyes. They would've helped her feel more at home with the crew, she thought, or helped talk her through things, or defended her.

…If Xehanort wasn't at Radiant Garden, she almost thought she would've gone back to them. Asked Amelia to drop her off and be done with it. But—Xehanort was there, and she couldn't go back. So she really only had one other home she could look for.)

Someone cleared their throat.

Skuld started out of her thoughts, barely managing to keep from swinging Starlight.

Marcus stood a couple of paces away from her.

She stared back, trying not to show just how confused she felt.

"Hey," Marcus said. "Come on, let's go. Can't get away with lazing about, can you? Need to practice with that thing."

"I can use it fine."

"Sure, for blasting rocks. But if you get into a fight with another person, what then?"

Skuld found that she didn't really have an argument for that.

"Come on," Marcus cajoled. "Up, up. You've been slacking with training."

A part of her wanted to protest—she'd had other things to do—but she could tell Marcus wasn't going to leave her alone if she didn't go along with the idea. Reluctantly she followed him towards the center of the plaza, trying to ignore the way the other crew members' eyes tracked her.

Marcus pulled out his sword, balancing it carefully.

Skuld copied his position.

"Alright, now. We're going to practice some blocks. Shift your blade a little. Straight across your body. Like that, yeah. That'll sweep your opponent's weapon aside." He turned to face her, lifting his sword.

Skuld flashed him a skeptical look.

Marcus moved slowly, strike deliberately telegraphed.

Carefully, Skuld slid Starlight into position, effectively diverting his weapon.

"Good." He pulled back. "Again."

They went back and forth like that, for a while. Initially, it was mostly just the same thing, over and over, but it gradually built, the movements growing more complex, and Skuld had the startling realization that Marcus was good, and she was really only keeping up because of muscle memory. It didn't entirely surprise her when he knocked her to the ground—but it did frustrate her a little bit. "I should already know this," Skuld said, more to herself than to him.

"Yeah, well, you don't yet. So it'll just take some time to figure it out. Now, come on. You aren't just going to let me knock you on your ass, are you?"

Skuld huffed, but she stood, and the two of them went back and forth, exchanging careful blows as Skuld got a better feel for her weapon. Slowly, the tension started bleeding out of her shoulders. It was…nice, almost. The repetitive motions and physical activity helped to take her mind off some of her worries.

By the time Marcus called the training session, she'd caught on to what he was doing: "You were distracting me."

Marcus sheathed his sword and didn't bother to deny it. "Look," he said, "everyone's been through some sort of shit. I don't know what yours is, but I know what it's like to be on the other side. Helps to have someone to get you out of your own head."

"I—thank you." Skuld blinked a couple times, ignoring how her throat tightened. She forced the words passed the lump: "If you—if you need someone to help you—"

Marcus looked startled a moment, then chuckled quietly. "Yeah," he agreed. "I'll keep that in mind."

---

-Skuld sat beside Taran's bed, book of fairytales in her lap. Taran was doing better, it seemed, even though some of his memories stilled seemed fuzzy.

(It was a painfully familiar experience, and a part of Skuld couldn't help but feel for him. She knew what it was like, after all, to feel like you were missing all of the most important pieces of your life.)

"What're you reading?"

Skuld started.

Taran had turned, blinking at her curiously. His eyes were clear, at the moment, but there was something in his expression she couldn't quite place.

Skuld glanced at the book sheepishly. "It's—it's just children's stories."

"From your home?"

She opened her mouth to answer 'no,' then paused, scrunching her eyebrows in thought. "Not exactly," she settled on. And then, since Taran was still staring at her, she asked, "Did you want to hear some?"

Taran nodded quickly.

Skuld managed not to laugh. "Alright." She flipped the book open, turning a couple of pages. Oh, she thought. That's right. I never finished reading this one. "There's—there's this one story. About a group of friends. One day, one of them goes missing. One of them—Shadow—asks for their friend back, and the gods agree, if they can pass their trials. But first, they have to actually get there. They were—they were tracking down a monster to lead them to it."

Taran sat up a little, then winced and leaned back against the bed.

(There was something familiar about the scene; about sitting in a room, struggling to bring memories of who you were to the forefront, and asking someone else to share the fragments they remembered. Skuld wasn't entirely certain she liked the role-reversal.)

Skuld cleared her throat, then began reading:

"The monster, like most monsters, had no solid form. It was just darkness, ever curling over itself, again and again. This monster was big—bigger, even, than many that the two of them had fought before. 'Do you plan to challenge me, little lights?' it hissed. 'I will gobble you up if you get too close.'

"Starlight said, 'We've come to find the Stairway to the Sky. We need the help of a monster to follow the sun.'

"The monster laughed. 'Little lights,' it said, 'I will do no such favors for you. Not without a price.'

"Shadow had been thinking long and hard about what the fox had said. When Starlight fumbled, they stepped forward, stretching out their arms." Skuld stopped briefly, feeling like something had caught in the back of her throat. "'If you lead us there,'" she read, slowly, and then her voice broke and she restarted. "'If you lead us there, then I will turn myself over to you. I will allow you and your kin to take advantage of my blade and my magic. I will never raise my weapon against you again—so long as you take me to my friend.'"

She could feel Taran staring at her. She was only half aware of it, something like the fragment of a memory itching in her skull.

"The monster considered it for many long, long moments. 'A tempting offer,' it had said, 'but how do I know that I can trust you?'

"'I give you my word.'

"'Your word means nothing to me. But your heart does. Give me your heart, right now, and allow me to hold onto it. That will be my assurance that you won't back out of the deal.'

"Starlight didn't approve. She tried to argue with Shadow, and threatened the monster, and swore that they could find another way—but Shadow was adamant, and took their heart from their chest and gave it to the monster."

(There was something painful, there. A clawing sort of memory that scratched at her chest and made her want to throw the book away.)

"The monster accepted the offering and, with a great roar, swept up Shadow and Starlight and took them across the worlds. Through the darkness they went, ever chasing the distant light of the rising sun. They went past the End of the World, and into the Great Darkness beyond, and then found the place that was too deep for even the monsters to reach. 'This is as far as I can take you,' the monster said. 'Even I cannot step foot in this darkness.'

"Starlight and Shadow prepared to enter, but it wasn't long before Starlight found her legs failing, her chest crushed beneath the weight of the darkness. But Shadow could continue, untouched by the depths. 'It's because you gave your heart to the monster,' Starlight said. 'There's nothing for the darkness to reach.'

"Shadow had been reluctant to keep traveling without one of their friends, but Starlight pushed them onwards. 'Go,' she said, 'and I will light your way back.' And so they continued, deeper, deeper, until they thought they would never emerge again.

"And then they found it: the light. A long, glowing staircase that seemed to go upwards forever—so far that Shadow couldn't see the top. It would be a long climb, but they had come this far. And so they climbed, and climbed, and climbed, and as they did, a curious sort of thing happened. They had given themelf to the monster—to the darkness—and now, they were not suited for this bright of a light. The further up they went, the more it burned. But they couldn't stop—not until they'd finally found their friend.

"They climbed forever and, finally, broke through the clouds and into a blinding sort of light. The gods had been surprised to see them there—none of them had believed that any could reach their domain on their own. 'I came,' Shadow said, voice weak. 'I came, and so I ask you to return my friend.'

"The gods had laughed incredulously. 'Very well,' they said. 'You have done the impossible, and you are lost for it. We will trade your life for his.'

"And then Dandelion was there, catching Shadow before they could fall. 'You didn't have to come,' he said. 'And now there will be nothing left of you.'

"'That's not true,' Shadow said. 'There will be something of me in you, and in Starlight, and even in the monster. And there will be something of me in the memories you hold—even if they start to fade.'"

Skuld's voice trailed away. "That's—that's where the story ends.

Neither of them spoke for several long moments. Skuld closed the book, suddenly regretting reading it at all.

"I think it'd be a terrible thing," Taran said, quiet, "to travel all that way, just to lose everything."

"They didn't lose everything," Skuld said quickly, and she didn't entirely understand the heat in her voice and chest, but—it felt important to clarify. "They saved their friend in the end. They just—they lost themself in the process."

(She thought, inexplicably, of Xehanort. She wondered if he would've related to Shadow, had he ever gotten ahold of these stories—if he thought what he was doing was noble enough to have given up everything for it. It made her feel sick, almost, to think about it.)

"I used to dream about being a hero."

Skuld started. She hadn't entirely expected Taran to pick up the thread of conversation, and didn't know quite where he intended to take it, but she paused to listen, anyways.

"I was just an assistant pig-keeper," he said, a tiny self-depreciating grin on his face. "I was in charge of making sure Hen Wen—she was the pig—stayed safe."

Skuld furrowed her eyebrows, casting her mind back towards their first conversation. "And…she could see the future?"

(The words seemed almost familiar, and for a moment, it felt like she was holding an entirely different book; something weighty, with the importance of a prophecy imprinted in her fingertips.)

"Yeah. Dallben—that's the guy who owned her—put me in charge of keeping her safe. So nobody could use her powers to find out about the future. But it was so boring. There was nothing to do, and one day—one day I wanted to get out there and prove myself." Taran's expression had turned fond, longing, but there was a weight there that said he'd gotten more than he really bargained for.

Skuld bit her lip, wondering if she was supposed to respond, and how.

Taran didn't seem to need her to; he continued, quiet, voice breaking a little, "She got captured by the Horned King's goons. And I thought that was my chance to be a hero, but—but I messed up. I messed everything up, and now I'm here." He turned to Skuld, eyes wet. "I'm nowhere close to home anymore, am I?"
Skuld's throat tightened. "No."

"And the others—?"

"I don't know," she whispered, hands flexing against her legs. "We didn't find anyone else. It was just you."

Taran released a shaky breath. He choked on a sob, then threw an arm over his mouth as if to stifle it.

Something twisted in Skuld's stomach. (She thought of talking to the other people in Traverse Town. She thought of Zidane, and his story of trying to find out where he belonged. She thought of herself, and how lost she felt, sometimes, trying to find her own place in the world.) "I've lost people, too," she whispered, quiet.

She felt Taran's eyes on her, but she couldn't quite look at him; she had her attention focused somewhere across the room, not quite seeing anything, and she found her mind drifting backwards, trying to catch strands of memories she no longer entirely had. "Lots of people, I think. I had—I used to have four friends. I don't remember their names or their faces. I really just have bits and pieces of them left. But I know they were important to me." She blinked rapidly, eyes burning. "I don't really know what happened to them. But I'm trying to find out." She took a breath. "But there are others that I remember. Other people that—they're okay. I know they're okay, mostly. But I can't go back to them."

"…Is your home gone, too?"

Skuld paused, searching for an answer. "I don't know," she admitted truthfully. "I hope not."

Taran was silent for several long moments. "It hurts."

"Yeah," Skuld agreed with a laugh that didn't feel quite right in her mouth. "It—it feels like it should still be there. Like you shouldn't have ever been able to lose something like this. But then it's just—gone."

"How—how do you deal with it? Losing them?"

Skuld faltered, because she didn't think I don't know was a very good answer. "You—" She paused, casting about for an idea. "You—try to hold onto the pieces you can. And then you just—" She broke off, trying not to feel too much like she was running into a wall. (Taran needed something. He needed something to hold onto, and she didn't have the answers, so the only thing she could do was tell him what she was doing and hope it was enough.) "I'm searching," she said, "for the others. I'm trying to find out everything, and then—then once I find it, I think maybe things will—" Be alright? For the first time, the words sounded kind of hollow; staring at Taran's hopeful eyes, she found she couldn't quite say them. They caught in the back of her throat, bringing her back to a familiar place, sitting in that cell. She inhaled sharply through her nose and looked away.

The door swung open.

Skuld started, nearly jumping out of her chair and summoning her Keyblade.

She expected to see Zidane, or Blank, or the doctor. Instead she saw Jim, stepping into the room and giving her an unreadable look. "Hey. Thought you could use a break."

Skuld's eyebrows furrowed. "You haven't been here that often."

"As far as you know. I've stopped by a few times."

She couldn't help glancing at Taran for confirmation, but the boy looked as lost as she did.

Jim stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Anyway. I can keep an eye on him for now. If you wanted to look for more Keyblade stuff, I mean."

"Keyblade?" Taran repeated, sounding baffled.

"My weapon," Skuld said, but she wasn't entirely focused on the conversation. She fumbled, trying to figure out something to say, because this felt—strange. Like there was something that Jim wasn't quite saying.

"Well? I thought you wanted to find out more about—you know."

She did. She did, but— "Will you be…?"

She didn't know if she was talking to Jim or Taran, but Jim's expression softened all the same. "We'll be fine," he said, waving her off. "Go on. As the person still in charge of you, I command that you go do—whatever it is you've been doing." He gestured exaggeratedly towards the door.

Skuld still felt too thrown to react to that entirely, but she turned and left, anyways, pausing just long enough to thank him.

---

-"Hey," Skuld whispered, "how do you deal with—with losing your world?"

She hadn't been sure she'd even ask the question until it was out; Taran's words had kept bouncing around her head, leaving her feeling disoriented and unfocused until they'd finally spilled out of her.

The person she'd settled by—an older man named Ashton, who liked to come out and read next to the fountain—paused, putting a finger on his book to hold his place. He worked his jaw, seeming to think about it a moment. "Some days I don't," he admitted. "My world fell years ago, and—God, it still hurts, sometimes. I think about the places I used to go and the people I used to see and I feel like I can't really do much of anything."

Skuld's throat tightened, and she nodded, because oh, she knew that feeling. Some days were bad; some days, she just needed to keep moving, because if she stopped, then Xehanort might catch up to her, and—

It felt like her world might end, if that happened.

"Other days, things are alright. I like to talk to people about things—it's a good way to keep the memories of the others alive, you know? And I've picked up a few hobbies that some of my old friends used to have." He grinned wryly and lifted his book. "I never used to be much of a reader. But my brother-in-law loved it—would have a new one read every day. I didn't get the appeal, really, but once he was gone—reading became a way to keep him close." He shrugged, adjusting his glasses. "I know other people deal with it in other ways. Some people like to write to their loved ones—it'll never make it to them, and they know that, but it's a way to feel like they're still here. Some people get real angry and just need someone to vent to or some sort of training dummy they can beat up. Some people can't do things well on some days, and so we do what we can to check on them and make things easier. Us world survivors have to stick together, you know."

Skuld gave him a smile that didn't quite meet her eyes.

Ashton's expression softened. "You've lost a lot, too, huh? I can tell—you're like us."

The words had a too-familiar cadence, and maybe that's why she found herself admitting, "I didn't lose my world. I lost myself." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "And I need to find her. The old me. Because if I don't—I want things to go back to normal. To—to when I wasn't—" When it didn't hurt like this. When I didn't flinch away from people's touch, or feel so restless, or have this anger that I don't know what to do with.

"Losing yourself, losing a world—they're similar enough, I think. Similar enough that I know you can't always get something back once you lost it."

"Then what else am I supposed to do?"

"You move forward, and make something new. It'll be different from what was left behind, sure—but that doesn't mean that it's bad." He paused, scrunching his eyes in thought. "Healing is hard, sometimes. Things don't always fit together the way they used to. And it can be scary, to look at everything you've lost and realize you don't know what you're supposed to do or recognize the person you are after everything. You've just got to take it one step at a time."

Skuld worked her jaw, setting it stubbornly.

Ashton sighed. "Just think about it, alright?"

---

-Skuld found Jim later, when he wasn't spending time with the crew. He was sitting at a table, staring out at Traverse Town wordlessly, and Skuld pulled out a chair to sit beside him.

For a few moments, neither said anything. Then: "I've lost people, too."

Skuld cast him a sideways look.

Jim stared at his hands, fingers clasped tightly together. "My dad, he—he left when I was pretty young. Just packed up and went off without a word. It bothered me for a long time. Still kind of does." He shrugged. "And then, when the captain first hired me on, I met this old pirate. I didn't know he was a pirate, then, but—I learned a lot from him. He was kind of like a second father to me. He—he had to leave, too. Avoid being arrested and all that."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's just—I just wanted you to know, I get it. About losing people, I mean. Sometimes it makes you—it hurts. And it can make you angry."

"…How much of that conversation did you hear?"

Jim was silent for several moments. "A lot of it," he admitted. "Started somewhere into where you were reading that story."

Skuld's shoulders tensed, because that was more information than she'd really wanted to give. But—but maybe it was okay. Jim was—he'd been kind to her, mostly. They'd argued, but—things had turned out alright.

(Would it stay that way? Things had been okay with Xehanort for a long time, too.)

Jim shook his head. "Losing your world, though," he murmured. "That's—that's something else. I don't know how I'd deal with—" He broke off, looking conflicted.

It dawned on Skuld for the first time that maybe this had been as difficult for Jim as it had been for any of the rest of the crew. "Are you—are you doing okay?"

"Me?" Jim tried to wave her off. "Yeah, I'm fine. I wasn't the one who lost a world. It's just—a lot."

"I don't think you need to lose a world for it to hurt."

Jim cast her a look that she couldn't quite read. He took a shuddering breath and smiled humorlessly. "Yeah," he agreed. "Okay. I guess you got me there."

"What are we talking about?"

Skuld nearly jumped out of her skin.

Jim fell out of his chair, then ran a hand over his face. "Really?"

"I can't believe you two would be hanging out over here," Zidane said, grinning, "without me."

"Don't you have better things to do? Go swab the deck."

"We're not on the ship right now."

Skuld felt herself relaxing, something like a smile twitching on her lips. It wasn't quite normal, but—it made things feel a little better, sometimes.

---

-The fountain wasn't running, now. The mural was still visible, but she couldn't see the keyhole, this time. Skuld lifted a hand and, hesitantly, stretched to place it against the mural.

It seemed…completely normal. Like there had never been anything strange about it at all.

Skuld released a frustrated breath. I don't know what I thought I'd find. She began to push away—

And the mural gave.

Skuld stumbled forward, trying to catch herself on the edge of the fountain. The book of fairytales slipped from her jacket and landed in the fountain with a loud splash, sending water spraying across her face and torso. She pulled her hand back, shaking it.

The mural had turned, it looked like; the block shifted slowly into place, revealing an entirely different picture. She almost wanted to run her fingers over it in the hopes of finding answers, but she wasn't sure if she'd make it move again. With a sigh she fished the book out of the fountain. "Great," she murmured, turning to sit, placing the book on her lap and wringing out her soggy jacket. She gently pried the book open, then winced as she caught sight of the pages. They're soaked through. She pried one apart gently. I hope nothing's ruined. But I might have to wait for it to dry to read it more.

Not that it gave me much information, anyways.

She ran a wet hand over her face, then grimaced and tried to shake droplets of water off it.

"Hey!" someone shouted. "Hey, you're that lady with the magic sword!"

It took Skuld a moment to locate the voice's owner: a group of familiar kids, running towards her. Jessy was leading them, a ball shoved under their arm.

Skuld gave them a thin-lipped smile. "Hi," she said, trying to force something a little more cheerful into her voice.

"Here." Jessy tossed the ball her way.

Skuld's hands shot up to catch it. She blinked, then shot them a confused look.

"Jason didn't believe me when I said you had a magic weapon," they sniffed.

"I didn't say that!"

"So you need to prove it."

Skuld glanced at the ball curiously. "With…this?"

Jessy rolled their eyes. "Duh. Hit it in the air! You know, like last time." They mimed whacking the ball.

"I—I'm sorry. I don't know if—not right now." She glanced at her wet book. "But I can still summon my Keyblade." She shifted the ball to her left hand and called for Starlight, the weapon a comforting weight in her palms.

A couple of kids gave her a bug-eyed look.

Jessy looked smug. "See?"

Skuld laughed, then tossed them the ball.

Jessy caught it easily, then hopped up on the fountain beside her. "Why don't you want to play with us this time?" They leaned over and squinted. "Is it because you got your book all wet?"

"Something like that."

"You're all wet, too. Did you fall in the fountain?"

"No. Just the book. I was—I was trying to look at something, and it fell."

"Well, that sucks."

She couldn't help but laugh again. "Yeah, I guess it does."

Jessy squinted at the book, a frown tugging on their lips. "Hey, I think I've heard of that place before." They pointed at the title.

"'The Stairway to the Sky'?" Skuld tilted her head. "I think it's just a story. Not a real place."

"No, no, I really think I've heard it somewhere."

"Is it from Garret?" one of the other kids asked, rolling her eyes. "He's always making stuff up."

"It's not from Garret, Emily. I think I—" They paused to riffle through their too-large pockets. Random items spilled across the ground: small coins, bits of pressed flowers, tiny bones and shiny rocks. "Where is—got it!" They lifted a collection of burned, frayed scraps of paper triumphantly.

One of the other kids snorted incredulously. "Jessy, that's just junk."

"It's not." They unfolded the papers then pressed them flat. They leaned closer to Skuld, pointing urgently. "Look, look, look. See?"

'Scala ad Caelum—translated to 'Stairway to Heaven.'

"It's not quite—" She paused, eyes snagging on a word, and her breath caught in her throat.

Ephemer.

"I—can I see those?"

"Sure!"

If Jessy noticed her shaking when they passed her the papers, they didn't comment on it. Skuld cautiously accepted the bundle, holding it gently, keeping it carefully above the damp book. The papers felt brittle, like they'd fall apart in her hands if she wasn't careful. She smoothed them a little, absently folding a burned corner out of the way.

'…visited Scala ad Caelum—translated to Stairway to Heaven—with an old friend of mine. Master Brain was busy, as it turned out, but we were still welcome to explore the city.

The Founder's Fountain was a spot I'd been anxious to visit since hearing of it. It's a well-known historical spot, constructed in honor of the first Keyblade Master and founder of the city, Master Ephemer. There's such a rich history to this place, and I was anxious to dive into…'

Most of the rest of the words were illegible, torn away by burns or the fragments of falling paper. She could just make out some tiny snippets on the other scraps: '…Daybreak Town was a place full of…' '…plan to try and compile a book' '…promised a demonstration…' On the last page, there was something that almost looked like an address: 'Preston B. Whitmore, 224 Ash Street, Atlantis.'

"Where did you get this?" Skuld whispered.

"Found it. I find a lot of cool stuff like that." Jessy squinted at her. "You have a funny look."

Skuld scrubbed an eye with the palm of her hand. "It's just—I know the name. 'Ephemer.' And look, see?" She pointed at the word 'Keyblade.'

Jessy leaned over, face scrunching up a bit before their eyes lit up in realization. "That's what your weapon is called!"

"That's right."

"Did this come from your world, too?"

"I—" She paused, hesitating over the answer. "I don't know," she admitted. She glanced at the address. "But he might." She stood quickly, clutching the wet book to her chest, papers held carefully in her other hand. "Do you think you could copy this address?"

Jessy scrutinized her for a moment, then flashed a blinding grin. "Keep it," they said. "I think it'll help you more than it'll help me."

Gratitude welled in Skuld's chest. She smiled back; she couldn't quite get out a 'thank you,' but she still managed to nod. She turned and darted off, energy practically buzzing through her legs. I have a lead.

---

…You know, I originally just split this from the last chapter because I wanted more time to focus on Skuld's experiences with Traverse Town. I figured it'd be a shorter chapter. Instead, it's currently the longest chapter in the story. Which…feels typical of me at this point, honestly.

Any, the world that fell last chapter was based on The Black Cauldron! There were some fun parallels with the Keyblades and Skuld's story—magic sword? Seeing the future? Monster minions? I sounded like it would work perfectly, haha.

Also, as a quick head's up: I'm going to be in the process of moving for the next couple of weeks, so the next chapter will likely either be a little bit early or a little bit late, depending on how things go.

And thank you to Lacan Shinn and Candy Mix-Up for reviewing last chapter! Review responses:

Lacan Shinn: I'm glad you thought I handled Skuld's reactions to the planet falling apart okay! I knew it'd be pretty difficult for her to see, so I wanted to make sure that I got that across right. I jokingly named the last chapter (and I guess also this one, since they used to be one) 'Foreshadowing: The Chapter,' because there's just…so many hints to future events and themes. So, yeah, focusing in on the themes more was very intentional! Skuld's kind of been on the, 'I want things to go back to how they were' train for a while, and I'm trying to build that up more, because…it's going to create some conflict.

Candy Mix-Up: Thank you! I'm glad you like it! Writing about Skuld's journey has been really interesting so far, so I hope you like what else I have in store!