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Chapter VIII: Of Curiosity and Conspiracy
I was looking for a breath of life,
A little touch of heavenly light,
But all the choirs in my head sang "No"—
To get a dream of life again,
a little vision of the start and the end,
But all the choirs in my head sang "No"—
~Florence + the Machine.

Xehanort stood quietly, one hand pressed absently to the glass, as he watched the dark shadows squirm just beyond. They moved like nothing he had ever seen before—with all the instinct of an animal, but with none of the direction. Each convulsively stirred, craning and contorting their necks as their twisted antenna endlessly twitched.

"Another failure is unsustainable," Even. "We can't continue like this and each of us knows it."

"All research eventually plateaus. Elevation is always required." Ienzo.

They would crawl and squirm over each other with no reaction whatsoever. Their dark, oozing-dark, bodies would briefly seem to mold, or meld, becoming one vacuous unit. They'd rip each other apart and reform, twisting and churning as they stumbled their way forward until turned back by the enchanted barriers.

"Couldn't it just be this one dude, though? He seems like one tough cookie." Braig.

"You can only split it so many times—even the most resilient heart will collapse eventually." Dilan. "There is only so much it can bear. We must go deeper."

"I must lodge a complaint—the further we elevate, the more artifice we create, the less useful the data on Kingdom Hearts will be." Even, needlessly, again, "The distance between each individual being and that source is already incommensurate; our adjustments only add more and more variables by which we must reconsider our results."

Ienzo responded, the typical disagreement: "Or, indeed, we get closer. How could we be so haughty to think we might change the ultimate? Every step is closer to the truth—increasing the likeness of form between them will create a commensurate perception."

Their beady yellow eyes stared endlessly beyond each other, off into some distant unknown. They had no independent motion of their own; every attempt at what Xehanort imagined was "sight" involved them jerking and twisting their whole ugly, disturbing heads about—as if they were catching a scent. As if something was attracting them. Like they were searching. Hungry.

"Xehanort?" Even, likely with a sneer, "Haven't you any wisdom to dispense?"

Were they like him? Did he feel some measure of perverse sympathy for them? A ravenous longing for something unknown? A lust for something they only caught the aroma of? Xehanort watched their quivering bodies. Was their only distinction that he was conscious of his longing? That he had to suffer for it? That he was tortured for it? Those sickly yellow eyes suddenly seemed almost to stare back at him. Leaning forward, he felt attachment. Were they truly alike? Did they seek what he sought? Or was he alike to them—a byproduct? Was he a failure? Naught but a weak heart?

Was he even human? Was he yet still sane?

"Xehanort…?" Dilan, now, voice calmer. Drawing him back.

It always ended the same. They'd cut deep enough, and darkness would sprout from the heart and consume it. If it weren't for their ministrations, the heart would collapse and return entirely to darkness and become these creatures. Beginning in darkness, ending in darkness, with only a brief, vain, and feverish light in-between. Xehanort's life. The Heartless. They were alike.

Without turning, he finally engaged. "The Princess' birthday is tomorrow." A brief pause. "Today, actually, I suppose. We don't have time for this."

"Whoopee-so what, we're just gonna watch another heart collapse?" Braig snorted, "Fun enough, I guess."

"No." Xehanort responded and reached into the folks of his coat. Pulling out a small vial, he held it up to be examined.

Even frowned, "You had more of the her and didn't tell us?"

"I had hoped to utilize it alongside Ansem, once he was brought to understanding." Xehanort sighed, turning the small vessel between his fingers, "Alas, that appears less likely by the day."

Ienzo turned to the nearby table, filled with sterilized equipment—scalpels, injectors, spreaders. "That should be more than enough to stabilize the heart for further work."

"Bring him here." Xehanort glanced briefly at Dilan, before turning back to the darkness.

"Here? I really must protest—" Even began,

"Shut your mouth, Even." Dilan, glad to finally move, interrupted.

Taking the vial from Xehanort, Ienzo inserted the syringe's needle and withdrew all the swirling contents; a sickly glowing black-green mixture. In moments, Dilan had dragged out the nearly unconscious subject, shaking and hastily sewn.

"Www…wwwhyyy…?" the man mumbled, head lolling back as Dilan stabilized him, kneeling—sort of—upon the clean white tiles.

Ienzo flicked the tube as he approached, "Knowledge leads to comprehension, and comprehension to completion. To know is an end-in-itself."

"Knowledge is security." Dilan added, steadying the man's already bruised and broken arm, "The Garden will flourish and advance by our work."

Braig shrugged, and Even sighed, gathering his clipboard and pen, "We'll see."

Xehanort didn't know how to respond-how could he explain to this trial run (only a forerunner for what will eventually be done to himself) about the sleepless and sweaty nights? Or the crushing pressure of alienation that fell upon him in those early hours when the whole Castle had yet to wake? He could not even explain to his own brothers the horrid, haunting dark vistas that drifted through the half-remembered dreams of a life stranger to him—how could he even begin to disclose that hell to another?

No, all of it was his alone to bear: the night hours spent wandering the halls in total darkness, the sudden retching when darting awake from what little slumber he was still capable of, the condemnation of knowing he was unique without a how or why, set apart by an inescapable melancholia from he knew not where; leaking out from under his skin and within his heart…

This preliminary test, pitiful as he was, was still far better off not comprehending the burden which his sacrifice would begin to solve; his momentous role in the shifting axis of the world would remain, as it did to Xehanort, cruelly opaque.

As Ienzo crouched and sought a vein, Even—as was in his nature—deigned it worthy to continue speaking. "One such as you, miserable though you are, are a piece of Kingdom Hearts. You are a portion of the whole. We are taking you apart, like a good child might disassemble a toy, or a good student a frog, in order to perceive its—your-parts, and by that, comprehend the whole."

"So enjoy it, buddy! Your life is worthwhile!" Braig grinned, "You're a part of something much bigger now!"

Pinching his arm, Ienzo expertly made the injection, even under the subject's weak squirms. Slurred words slipped from his mouth, "ahhh, thhhe…w-wande-derer kn-ows…no…no…resttt…."

For a moment, nothing happened. Ienzo stepped back, taking up his own clipboard alongside Even.

Then, suddenly, the man groaned—a prolonged, unnaturally long drone. His eyes rolled back in his head and a shiver seemed to shoot across his whole body. Dilan stepped back, releasing him, as he slouched forward over his legs—though he didn't fall completely. Even scribbled furiously, Ienzo took closer, more observant, looks.

Something seemed almost to squirm directly beneath his skin, sliding up his arm from the injection site, leaving slight bubbles in its wake. A few short gasping sounds were released, and Dilan grabbed one of his spears, left leaning against the wall.

The squirming, noises, and occasional spasm lasted for precisely three minutes and twenty-six seconds, by Even's later report, before suddenly, and without ceremony, ceasing. The man simply remained kneeling, slouched slightly over his knees. Another few moments passed with no sign.

"Well that was just sad." Braig spoke first, "Looks like we lost him."

Dilan, spear held ready, moved up behind him and took his pulse, confirming Braig's diagnosis with a stern nod.

Even threw his clipboard onto the table, nearly scattering his pile of schematics for the Bastion's power generating system, "What a waste! I told you we escalated too soon—"

"He didn't even turn!" Braig interrupted with his further discontent.

"By way of salvage, we can at least observe them feed." Ienzo frowned, gently placing down his instruments. "There is nothing more to be said for it."

"Indeed." Xehanort affirmed. Such was the nature of their work. He was accustomed to eternal disappointment by this stage. A small part of him even felt some sense of relief; an irrational hope that they were now one step closer to simply turning all instruments upon himself.

"Braig?" Dilan gestured, grabbing a second spear in his other hand.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" Braig mumbled, grabbing the subject under his arms and dragging him toward the door to the darkness' cage. The man's head lolled back again, his mouth falling open and his open eyes showing only a blank darkness, like a sheen, covering them. Even rushed back to take a few notes on that.

As Dilan shoved back the shadows, Braig slipped under him and unceremoniously dumped the subject right inside the door, sliding it shut behind him. Together, all four apprentices moved to stand with Xehanort, observing the creatures stumble about their cage. As they watched expectantly, nothing happened. The body, twisted and splayed, lay where it had been thrown and the shadows showed absolutely no reaction to it. One climbed atop it, briefly, before shuffling over and beyond it.

"Well, that is interesting." Even said, jotting down a few more notes. "Perhaps the injection has a lingering effect. They have at least reacted to corpses before."

Xehanort checked his wristwatch. "Leave it. We have other things to prepare for."

Ienzo turned away, reaching among their gadgetry for the PHS. "I will alert Hojo that we are in need of another one."

"Ugh, that guy. Now there's a real loony one." Braig chuckled, "Why can't we just take-out the middle man?"

Even, as he was wont, sneered, "Idiot, he possesses the extraterrestrial." Then to Ienzo, "We'll have to procure more of that, too."

"Ah, right, the doodad," Braig mocked, "Let's just eminent domain all their sh*t, eh?"

"Too obvious." Dilan intoned.

"Our current relationship is mutually beneficial." Even continued, "There is no need to rock the boat."

"Orrrr…we could just stop needing him." Braig poked at Even, "Listen up: if the doodad is pure darkness, and we shoot up with it to keep the hearts rocking, then what about pure light, eh? We got any closer to figuring out those special hearts?"

Dilan responded, "We have a potential lead."

"And what if someone leaks, hmm?" Even answered, returning to press Braig on one of the few issues he had a point on, "If our…delicate relationship with Shinra shifts too much, what will stop them from sharing? Perhaps with the Keybearers?"

Dilan, with the impatience of an exasperated parent, added, "We have a spy within Eraqus' investigation, looking into Shinra—some starry-eyed devotee."

"Is Aeleus aware?!" Ienzo inquired, the first emotions of the evening entering his voice as he tapped away on the PHS.

"Only we are aware of his true purpose." Dilan responded shortly.

Ienzo nodded, straightening his ascot, "Hojo says he has an especially fresh subject in mind."

"Transport it immediately, by the usual route." Xehanort finally answered, tiring of the constant bickering of his fellows. "We must ready ourselves."

Xehanort swallowed his disappointment, locked away his frustrations once again, and, turning from the shadows, entered the gravira elevator. He knew he was coming to the end of himself. This next subject would be the last. If nothing came of him, then they would have no choice—he could suffer it no longer. The experiments must be turned back onto himself.

But as the Apprentices returned to the top of the Bastion, no one noticed the pool of darkness that slowly formed under their subject. No one noticed when his body slipped into the shimmering void, and no one noticed when it dropped into one of the rivers that ran from Hollow Bastion and out beyond the city.

Someone did notice, though, when it washed up on a rocky shore and the man, pale and wet, choked out his first, new, breaths, greeted to his rebirth by four shrouded figures, stealing into Radiant Garden in the middle of the cold, dark night.