Here's a shark. Wanna see me jump it?

Chapter Twenty-Three: Bleeding Dreams, Phase 01

Riku eventually took the coat and the thermos, but only after Smee vanished from sight. Back near the door at the far end of the cave, he wrapped himself in the heavy layer and drank the cold away. Not long after, he gradually nodded off and fell asleep.

By whatever supernatural properties resonated from the cave or lingered from Riku's contact with Xehanort's Keyblade, shadows danced in his mind, warping perspective so that what was far away seemed closer than ever. Through a dense, mystifying haze, he saw Smee with his back to the mouth of the cave. The little Demi-Heartless spoke to someone—or something—a bright, blue figure, burning like fire and radiating evil.

Smee instructed his much taller guest, "It has to look like an accident. If they sense something wrong—"

"Hey, I got it, I got it," the burning form answered. "The little pirate wannabe won't know what hit 'im."

"And Xehanort?"

The blue figure chuckled. "Yeah. He won't see it comin', either." A short pause, and then the burning man in black cloth looked past Smee, straight at— "We have company," he said with a wide, sharp-toothed smile at young Riku.

Smee spun around, wild-eyed and terrified at his guest's discovery. The taller man sidestepped the little pirate, his blazing eyes piercing the dream's haze and shocking Riku awake.

The boy's heart spiked and he woke with a gasp, terror choking his breath as the realization quickly dawned on him that he wasn't free from the dream. Or, worse, he was.

He wasn't in the cave anymore. A blizzard raged all around him, and slow, heavy footsteps crunched in the snow beside him. He shot his gaze upward and beheld a frighteningly tall form of a man in a hooded black coat billowing in the flurry. He said nothing, but cast only a token glance at the petrified boy before returning to surveying his surroundings.

It was then that Riku noticed the door. The very same once in the back of the cave—and it was open. Coils of impenetrable, squirming darkness writhed in the open doorway, tendrils of the black substance slowly detaching from the newly-arrived visitor. And then Riku noticed something else about the man in black. He carried a gun: an irregularly long and hauntingly-shaped three-barreled pistol with a chain fastened to the grip.

The silver-haired boy shrieked and crawled back. An unknowable face of shadow beneath the black hood snapped in his direction, and then the man brought a gilded, taloned gauntlet to his obscured lips and signaled his silence.

But something roared in the distance, snapping the gazes of both Riku and the hooded man to an unknown monstrosity far beyond the chaotic, white veil. A black, inhuman form towering what seemed dozens of fathoms above them writhed and rumbled in the snowsquall, eyes blazing bright red. All six of them. And beyond the nightmarish beast and the blizzard swarming them, Riku caught glimpses of an eldritch, towering mountain range squirming like oily shadows under what now seemed a hellishly discolored sky.

The unknowable beast of six eyes roared once more, furiously, hungrily—

—and it shocked Riku awake, back in the cave, where Mr. Smee knelt cautiously before him. "Riku—?" he began, but the terrified boy squeaked and threw himself into the Half-Shadow's arms, weeping freely.

"I hate this!" He screamed amidst the bawling. "I hate…being scared… Xehanort, the Keyblade, the Heartless, that—that man on fire! The man in black…"

Smee's heart stopped. The man on fire? Did…did Riku see us? And, the man in black…

The boy wailed further, "I hate—I hate all of it!" He sniffled and raised his wet, runny gaze to the compassionate Demi-Heartless. "I wanna go home. Please…take me home!"

The request punctured what little heart Smee had left and wracked him with guilt. Riku begged him—him—to take him back home, unaware that Smee stood at Hook's side when they destroyed Destiny Islands, Riku's true home. Or, did he know? Is that why he hated him?

Whatever the case, whatever tragedy brought them together, Mr. Smee understood the gravity of the here and now. Grabbing Riku's shoulders firmly yet comfortingly, the ex-pirate spoke in a voice uncharacteristically steady, "Don't worry, Riku. I'll keep you safe. Nothing will harm you as long as I live."

And Smee had every reason to believe in this uncanny surety. What did it matter if Riku witnessed his meeting with "the man on fire" or if "a man in black" roamed these woods? The arrangements were made, the schemes in motion. By the time they returned to Xehanort's estate, it would be a drastically different sanctuary than what they left behind.

"I sense great fear in you, Xehanort," the projection of Yen Sid said to his coeval in his study.

The wizened Keybearer said to his elder, "Not for myself. If the worst comes to pass, my pupils and I can escape this world in a heartbeat. No, I fear for the lives of everyone else in Radiant Garden. For many, this world is the last bastion of hope against the Heartless invasion, and a hollow bastion at that. Everyone knows the end is near, and this terror drives them to madness."

Yen Sid stroked his beard. "And yet, the leaders of the Coalition of Allied Worlds will arrive tomorrow. Delegates and champions of dozens of worlds all meeting under one roof, walking among those who fear their end—surely, this will inspire hope in the people."

Xehanort shook his head. "If my suspicions are correct, the traitors in Ansem's government have something planned for them."

The ancient wizard's eyes widened. "Traitors?"

His reaction puzzled Xehanort somewhat. "Yes, the traitors. Even and his lackeys. They have ties to Maleficent and her Council of Dark Seekers. I explained this to you only hours ago."

Yen Sid's piercing eyes narrowed. "I see. Yes, yes, I remember now. You've caught wind of a coup right under the sage-king's nose. Have you revealed this to Ansem yet?"

"The king is dying—bedridden and delirious. Even plays with his life like a puppet master tangling the strings. And, in light of everything that's happened, we simply haven't had an opportunity to confront the usurper since we returned from London. We'll have to do it before we depart for Treasure Planet."

Yen Sid leaned forward in his seat—in the cockpit of the Gummi Ship he traveled in. "Then, you know where the world is?"

Xehanort nodded and picked up the golden, spherical map from his desk. "We cracked the code shortly after taking Hook's ship. Had it not been for the Keyblade, it might've taken years to find this so-called 'loot of a thousand worlds.'" A glow from Xehanort's palm enveloped the cybernetic map, spawning the room-sized projection of the sought-after planet's location in its native solar system. He couldn't help but smirk at Yen Sid's surprised reaction. "We'll put this treasure to good use: unlimited wealth just waiting to fund our war against the Dark Seekers. Putting Ventus in deep cover for so long was more than worth the wait."

But Yen Sid's eyes were still peeled far apart, black pupils trembling at the miraculous star chart before him. "You've…found it…" He cleared his throat and recomposed himself. "Xehanort, this cannot wait. Send your pupils at once. I need only meet with you to ensure our forces are secure and to stop this Even in his tracks."

Xehanort sighed and shook his head. "It won't be that simple, I'm afraid. We've suffered two great losses since we returned. The prince under Terra's wife's care lost his life, and Naomi herself is lost in coma. We're all in grieving, Terra more than the rest of us."

The wizard leaned forward in his chair, expression stern but desperate, "Xehanort. You must send them immediately. Time is of the utmost importance if anything you've told me is true."

The bald Keybearer scoffed irreverently. "Oh, have a heart, old man. The Dark Seekers have spent years searching for Treasure Planet, and that was with the map. Without it, they are but babes groping blindly in the dark. Our wealth will still be there tomorrow, and the day after that, and many years long after. I ask only a day. My pupils will depart when you and the Coalition arrive, ensuring Radiant Garden won't go even a day without protection from the Heartless." He made a motion with his hand, and the room-sized galaxy became an esoterically-scrawled globe in his palm once more. "Men our age should understand the virtue of patience."

The wizard was silent, contemplating something silently but intensely in his head.

Xehanort broke that silence. "You're in a Gummi Ship."

"Pardon?"

"What happened to the Star Shard?"

"The—? Oh, yes, yes—the Star Shard. Too unreliable in times like these, I'm afraid, and too vulnerable. The shard's route is never completely certain, and you never know who you'll run into along the way. These days, I prefer security to alacrity."

Xehanort chuckled. "A wise choice. So glad you agree."

Yen Sid understood his meaning; Xehanort had used the elder wizard's logic against him to justify his plan to wait a day before departing for Treasure Planet. "Touché, my old friend."

The younger of the old men smiled. "When can I expect you?"

"At my current speed, just after the Coalition arrives. I'll just miss your pupils."

"A pity. Terra and Aqua haven't seen you since Eraqus' funeral, and young Ventus has never met you."

"We will all meet in time. And, when they return, they'll find Radiant Garden in much better hands than they left it." Something flashed on the ancient wizard's monitor, stealing his attention for just a second. He said calmly, "I'm afraid I must go, Xehanort. I'm expecting another call."

Xehanort said amicably, "Until tomorrow, my old friend."

Yen Sid nodded, and the transmission ended, leaving Xehanort alone once again in his massive study. He leaned against his desk, grasping the spheroid map once more, but his once-proud smirk diminished to pensive neutrality. He saw his own reflection, closed his eyes, and sighed.

A knock on the door alerted him to Vanitas' presence.

"Come in."

The door opened and closed behind the masked boy. "Your little nerd meeting over yet?"

He nodded and replaced the map on his desk. "You'll just miss him tomorrow. Though, I doubt you'll mind."

Vanitas pretended to mull it over. "Gee, a high seas adventure to a planet made of literal money, or high tea with Pinhead? I'll take the money."

"I assumed as much. Now, is there something you needed?" Xehanort hadn't summoned Vanitas, and the boy rarely sought an audience with his elders unless he desired something.

"Yeah." Vanitas grabbed a chair, flipped it around, and sat in it with his arms crossed and his chin resting atop the rail, much like a punk with better things to do than attend the pep rally. He said bluntly, "Keep the three stooges here."

Xehanort raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry?"

"Eraqus' runts—I don't need 'em. I just got my freedom back, and I'd rather not spend it stuck with the cub scouts breathing over my shoulder."

"I planned on keeping Terra behind for the sake of his grieving children. As for Aqua and Ventus—"

"Aqua's a bitch, and Ven's a liability. He dies, I fall into a coma."

"And yet, between the two of you, Ven is the only one who's never been taken prisoner."

Vanitas bolted from his chair and slammed his fist on the desk, jolting the copper map off-balance. "Ven wouldn't have lasted a week in my place!"

"Do you still believe you're the superior half?"

The masked boy flinched, froze, glowered behind the visor that buried his failures. "Ventus wanted to betray us. I saw it when he refused to open my cell. He wanted to turn his blade on you and run away with the Jolly Roger for himself."

"You think I don't know this?"

Vanitas froze again, then screamed, "What the hell, old man?! You knew he was a time bomb, and you still trusted him?!"

Xehanort rose, towering over his ward and sending him staggering back with a glower. "Are you so blind that you can't see what he truly is? That 'treachery' you saw was his darkness. I sent Ventus to be corrupted by pirates because I expected him to betray us. He was to give into those weeks of darkness and debauchery so he could become my vessel! Imagine, boy! Imagine what we would become! I in a young, new body ready to face the centuries, and you resorbed inside us to forge the χ-blade. We would be unstoppable. Together, as one, a god among Keybearers to rule the mortals below. Light, Darkness, even Nothingness—all would be enthralled under my power! The power to rule and reshape the cosmos—to destroy it…and re-forge it. That was my plan."

He didn't need to see Vanitas' face to know his fear. His body language said it all.

Xehanort calmed, then. His spirits faded away, returning to the somber state he sank into just before Vanitas knocked on the door. "But none of it matters anymore." He turned away, eyes to the window and the snow-covered kingdom beyond.

"Why not?" Vanitas asked, a mix of lingering fear and annoyance in his tone. "If you want Ven to go full scumbag for this to work, I'll glue him to my hip—spend every second of every day getting him drunk and punching babies—"

"The χ-blade may yet be formed, Vanitas. But it will not be I who wields it." A permeable sorrow drenched his voice. His hands joined behind his back as his shoulders sagged. Head hung low and with his weary eyes on the winter-swept citadels and the bergs beyond, he said slowly, "I've felt it creeping on me ever since we arrived on this Light-forsaken world. I've sensed Darkness unlike anything I've ever known in the very air we breathe on this planet, in the walls, the soil, the blood… Here, life itself is corrupted beyond recognition, but not to the senses. At first, I believed it only a dream. And then I realized…" he glanced back to Vanitas, his sorrow now one with dread. "I was right."

Vanitas must have raised an eyebrow beneath that helmet. "You're getting pretty worked up over some bad dreams."

"Vanitas, these are not 'dreams' as you or I can comprehend them. Look out the window. What do you see?"

Though visibly confused, Vanitas joined him by the window and stared into the wintry cityscape. At length, he reported his findings. "Snow."

"Look again."

"Still snow."

"Harder."

"It's not melting anytime soon."

"Don't look with your eyes, Vanitas."

He groaned as he dropped his shoulders and lolled his head. "You know I hate 'seeing with my heart' and all that crap."

"Not your heart, either. Your Darkness."

Silence from the masked boy. Seconds of it. Slowly, dejectedly, he sighed and slumped over. He reached for his helmet and undid the clasps. "It's been a while." The mask came off moments after, revealing the webs of red gauze that relatively concealed the hellish scars replacing what was once his face, and the two strips of black cloth that concealed his left, blind eye. Thusly exposed to the window, Vanitas squinted and blinked to adjust to the new lighting. He gazed out to the evening cityscape, watching the heavy but gentle snowfall cover the crumbling city in a blanket of white.

Then, his remaining, right eye pulsed from gold to violet, granting him sight of the unseen, and he staggered back at what he saw. "What—WHAT THE HELL…"

The horizon had changed almost entirely. Radiant Garden remained as it was: a bustling, miserable city blanketed in snow where royal guards patrolled the streets for Heartless and other dissenters, and the citizens and refugees stayed inside at the evening hours out of fear for their lives. But it was no longer just Radiant Garden.

Beyond the winter-swept city now towered what seemed an infinite expanse of mountains fazing in and out of reality like an ocean of oily shadows, and a fell miasma of jade and cobalt obscured these black peaks further and replaced the sky with yet more eldritch mist. And in that Mephistophelean haze flew winged, titanic forms and others much smaller that bore a haunting resemblance to the Heartless that Vanitas encountered in the apocalyptic remains of Neverland. The very same that seemed capable of speech. The Heartless that proved they were evolving at nightmarishly rapid pace.

Vanitas turned to Xehanort, catching himself before collapsing from panic, and he stuttered, "What—the hell—is that?!"

Xehanort answered morosely, "That, my boy, is the true face of Radiant Garden."

"How long has it been like this?"

"If I had to guess, fifty-two years."

Vanitas' one eye expressed his every ounce of wild confusion at the specificity of Xehanort's answer.

The old man elaborated, "The Heartless may appear uniform, but every one of them bears a unique scent. From the moment we arrived here, the better part of a year ago, I sensed something hauntingly familiar. I couldn't know for certain, but I knew by this scent that this was a world worth staying in. If I could only solve the mystery…" He closed his eyes and hung his head. "And, now I know. This scent that I recognized, the cause of this hellscape before us…it belongs to a godlike Heartless that Eraqus and I believed we slew fifty-two years ago: Chernabog."

Vanitas' violet eye trembled at this conclusion. "That's…impossible. Aqua said he's way the hell out in the Realm of Darkness—that's why he had to speak to her through another Heartless."

"No. He spoke to her directly."

"The hell are you talking about?! He wasn't there in person!"

"Yes, Vanitas. He was."

The disfigured boy froze, a new wave of terror creeping over him and tainting every syllable as he spoke, "What are you saying?—that Chernabog is following us?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"Then, he's here in Radiant Garden?"

Xehanort shook his head and opened his eyes. "The illusion is impeccable and spans light years in all directions, but what we see is only that. An illusion. This is not the galaxy as we once knew it. We passed that threshold nearly a year ago. Or, perhaps the Darkness expanded to swallow us; if the Heartless are invading, then it may be that their accursed realm comes with them. But, whatever the case, this Darkness' façade was so perfect that we never noticed where Light ended and the illusion began. Chernabog is not in Radiant Garden, boy. We are in the Realm of Darkness."

Vanitas didn't speak. He barely even moved. He steadied himself against a chair, then slowly lowered himself into it, his bandaged head in his hands. He only spoke several seconds later. "Who else knows?"

"Only the Dark Seekers—Maleficent's council of madmen. Braig confirmed this when last we spoke."

"How long has our spy-friend known?"

"Braig only learned the truth recently. Hook's death created an opening on Maleficent's council, and Even recommended that he take his place. Our little double-agent now sits among the highest echelons of our enemies' number. He's revealed to me that the Dark Seekers are trapped in this Realm of Darkness as well, and their only hope of escape is in the map to Treasure Planet."

Vanitas squeezed his eye shut and curled his hands into fists against his forehead. "So, what, the map doesn't lead to a zillion shit-tons of priceless treasure?"

"It may. It may not. All that matters is Maleficent believes following that map will lead them back into the Realm of Light. If it truly can teleport its users anywhere in the universe when connected with some apparatus on the planet it leads you to, then the witch's theory is plausible. That, Vanitas, is why you're leaving with Aqua and Ventus, and you won't be coming back."

Realization dawned on the scarred boy. He looked up, his trembling eye on Xehanort. "What about you?"

The old man shook his head and turned away. "Radiant Garden won't last much longer, and neither shall I."

"The hell are you getting at?" Vanitas rose from his seat and approached his master. "You…you're just going to die?"

"Heroically. Gloriously."

"But, why?"

"Because Chernabog cannot perish. I've tried it, but he is a god, and the gods cannot be slain—only escaped. That is what you will do. Escape. And when the Dark Seekers inevitably invade this world to reclaim their map so they, too, can escape, Terra, Yen Sid, Braig, and myself will destroy them or die trying, though I doubt this world will survive the battle. When you return to the Realm of Light, you'll have no fear of Maleficent or her disciples pursuing you. And when you see the Light once more, never stop chasing it. Run as far as you can, and never let the Heartless reach you again."

But Vanitas caught something that Xehanort practically glossed over. "Wait, you're sacrificing Terra and Braig and Pinhead in all this? Do they know?"

"Of course not. Terra will remain to grieve his wife, but, beyond that, he has long been my backup plan in case Ventus failed to become my vessel. Terra's grief may yet corrupt him, awaken the Darkness deep inside, and when that happens, I will possess him and become far stronger than any Keybearer seen in this lifetime. Yen Sid and Braig are only insurance. I have no idea how powerful Terra and I will become, but I'm confident our double-agent and the wizard will be enough to destroy any Dark Seekers that I miss. And, should we survive the battle, we'll be here to stall Chernabog when he wakes."

Vanitas flinched. "What do you mean, 'when he wakes'?"

Xehanort paced and gestured to the window and the hellscape beyond. "There is more to darkness than living shadows and black shores, my boy. With darkness comes the night. With night comes sleep. With sleep comes the dream. And we are lost so unfathomably far in the Realm of Darkness that we no longer walk the physical realm, no matter how convincing this illusion is. Make no mistake; this world and every other we've encountered in the past year are all the prisoners of Chernabog's twisted dreams."

Vanitas stared at him skeptically. "A dream? You're telling me we're literally inside a demon's dream?"

"It's the most accurate oversimplification I know of. Whatever you wish to call it, the fact remains that we no longer inhabit the Realm of Light. Radiant Garden and every other world in the Coalition is trapped, unknowingly, somewhere so deep in the Realm of Darkness that reality itself writhes like the mists of dreams. You've seen it out that window, and that is only the beginning. If Radiant Garden isn't destroyed by the Dark Seekers, I suspect its mere presence in Chernabog's realm will be enough to force this world and every other we know to collapse in on itself the moment he wakes. He prophesied our destruction by the month's end, so that must be when he stirs from his slumber. And we know this realm belongs to Chernabog because he has spoken directly to us, and I'd never forget his scent. Not anymore, at least. I feel his presence everywhere in this world. I've felt it out in space. I felt it in Neverland, London, Atlantica, the Kingdom of Dreams, the Enchanted Dominion, the Dwarven Woodlands, Notre Dame, Corona, Arendelle, Prydain—everywhere."

Vanitas shot back with a sneer, "And you'd rather die than escape with us."

"This is not suicide. This is a sacrifice. If I can hold back the Dark Seekers and even Chernabog himself, that should give you, Ventus, and Aqua time enough to reach a corner of the universe so far that the Heartless will never claim it in your lifetimes."

"So, that's it? We're giving up?"

Xehanort nodded, eyes narrowed. "This was a battle we were never meant to win." He smirked. "Ironic. This is exactly what Eraqus feared, and what I embraced. I predicted Darkness would destroy the universe and that, in time, life would reform and grow stronger and more glorious than ever before. Darkness isn't the end—just a new beginning. But I was a fool to believe I would survive to see that new beginning. In the end, I'll just have to settle for having survived the Keyblade Wars. There aren't many who can boast of that."

Vanitas grimaced. "After all the precautions you took with Braig—after everything we did to keep your heart safe—it just sucks that it's come to this."

Xehanort chuckled wanly. "I know, boy. Such a shame that the greatest of schemes was undone by the dreams of a sleeping god. Perhaps the adage rings true. Men plan; gods laugh."

A heavy, thoughtful silence lingered over the pair before the window leading to the apocalypse. Vanitas spoke first. "The Coalition leaders are coming tomorrow."

"I know."

"Kings and queens and whatever-the-hell-else from a dozen worlds are all gathering on this doomed world. You're letting them die like Terra and Pinhead?"

"More reinforcements for when the Dark Seekers arrive. Or, who knows? They may yet serve me in other ways. But their lives are trivial compared to that of my vessel."

Terra's reflection still haunted him: a cruel parody of the man he was mere days ago, marred by the unsightly scar and the eyepatch, but now he knew this deformity in the mirror was only a preamble to the horrors he now endured.

Naomi slept without end in the hospital bed, and no kiss from her Prince Charming could save her. Every futile if only ravaged Terra's breaking mind as he sat before his comatose bride.

If only I'd stayed behind.

If only I worried more about her job as a chronicler.

If only I told her how much I love her before I went away.

If only—

"You're 'im, aren't you?" a woman's voice called.

Terra turned his gaze to the doorway and found a middle-aged woman standing there, joined by others who stared at him with equal parts astonishment and…revilement?

"You're the one who brought 'em here, you and those other meddlin' Keybearers!"

Terra didn't understand what she meant, and he didn't have the strength to ask or even wonder.

She continued her tirade, "You off-worlders brought all those refugees 'ere! Savin' 'em from the 'eartless, you said—but the kingdom's gone to shit ever since they came 'ere! There's more crime, more 'omeless—and that riot! My 'usband's a royal guard, and one o' them refugees broke 'is leg in the riot! 'e was just doin' 'is job, and all them filthy off-worlders attacked 'im and all 'is friends for no good reason!"

A saner man would've regarded her with some measure of incredulity—outrage, at the very least. But Terra didn't have that luxury. His thoughts were on his wife and the child he lost, though Ienzo wasn't legally his. Terra simply couldn't face the ugliness of the world while the dagger off loss was still plunged in his heart.

"She's right," a deep-voiced man joined in. "We've said it all along. Those refugees came from worlds the Heartless already took over. Who's to say they're not all half-Heartless as well? Isn't it your job to slay those monsters? Then, why did you bring them here?!"

Terra turned back to Naomi, his one eye clenched shut as he seethed brokenly through his teeth.

Another man spoke, "This world was just fine until you Keybearers came here. My neighbor says she saw you and your friends snooping around a whole week before you finally went public. Sounds like you and the Heartless got here at the same time. Imagine that. And now that you bring more of your alien kind here, the Heartless scourge is worse than ever! Don't you people have any shame?"

Terra's body tensed. His hands shook, became fists, trembled even harder. He sucked in his breath, felt his palms heating—burning. Just go away! Leave me alone!

The deep-voiced man approached and seized Terra's shoulder, spinning him around. "Look at us when we—!"

"BACK OFF!" Terra screamed with a voice more devastatingly resonant than human vocal cords should've been capable of, and his eye blazed bright gold as violet flames snaked from his fists to his forearms.

The man who touched him staggered back in terror, and the rest of the small mob gasped and screamed in alarm. " 'ES ONE A' THEM!" the woman screeched. " 'ES A 'EARTLESS!"

Terra caught himself and froze in shock. He looked to his burning hands through distorted vision and realized that his fears from the London opera house were no trick of the imagination. For whatever reason, the flames he cast had corrupted to the darker side. But now he knew it wasn't just the flames. He panicked and flailed his arms in front of him, attempting madly to dispel the dark fire. Somehow, it worked.

Eventually.

Too late.

A royal guard stood at the back of the parting mob, and the expression on his face proved he'd seen enough. The embers still lingered, and Terra's eye retained an incriminating spark of that wretched glow. The guardsman held a silver and azure javelin at the ready, yet held himself back. That was because, Terra soon realized, he knew this man.

"Terra?" Dilan practically whispered his name.

No one moved. Not Terra, wretched and exposed. Not Dilan, shocked still as a statue. Not the small mob, whimpering and petrified. Seconds passed before the deep-voiced man broke the silence, "W—well, what are you waiting for? Destroy him!"

But Dilan did no such thing. He stood to his full height, lowered the spear, and said without facing the growing crowd, "Give us the room."

A stunned silence followed in place of any action on those orders. The woman sputtered, "Are—are you mad? That man is a 'eartless!"

Dilan glared over his shoulder, but kept his voice low and steady, "I said. Give us. The room."

Nobody raised another objection. Though stupefied, they soon obeyed. They backed away, the initial mob and the growing crowd, and then Dilan closed the door behind them and jammed it shut with a chair under the handle.

Terra's heart raced as his stomach roiled. He was a child again, small and pitiful and guilty before Master Eraqus, waiting in terror for the violent rebuke his transgression more than deserved. But now, this wasn't about causing an avalanche and destroying the farmlands in the village outside Eraqus' castle. This wasn't about rousing a dragon from hibernation and nearly getting Aqua killed in the process. For all the disasters he'd caused in his careless youth and all the people he'd hurt along the way, Terra always knew the one who'd beat him and chastise him for the disasters he'd wrought was also the one man who'd save him from the full punishment of the law.

But that was then, back when Eraqus, his punisher, was also his savior. But now…

"Dilan, I—"

"I should've expected this," the dreadlocked knight looked away, his voice melancholic and distant.

Terra stepped forward, breathing raggedly, "No, you don't understand!"

"How could I not? Even's wanted you dead since the moment you came here."

The Keybearer froze, his eye widening and jaw slackening. He backed away, stupefied at the knight-captain's words. "What…what are you saying?"

"He planned this. All of this. I've been powerless to stop him, but now…"

"Dilan, what are you talking about?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Dilan shot his gaze back to him, more intensely than ever.

"What? No, no, it's—" Terra shook his head and begged the question, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Dilan held his tongue, choosing instead to scrutinize the Keybearer with a concerning, contemplative look. Then, he lowered his gaze to Naomi, closed his eyes, and breathed solemnly. "Terra, that riot wasn't your fault. None of this was."

The Keybearer flinched, surprised again at the captain's line of reasoning. "And why not? You heard those people. I brought the refugees here. What they did—"

"Should've happened months ago."

Terra grunted. "Stop speaking in riddles! If you have something to say, say it!"

Dilan opened his eyes and glanced to the door. Still shut. Still barred. People stood outside, but were well out of earshot. Regardless, Dilan flicked his wrist, and a stream of wind pulled the shutters down, giving them perfect audio and visual privacy. Then, he turned back to Terra and said gravely, "What I'm about to tell you doesn't leave this room. You speak a word of this to anyone without my approval, we both die as traitors. Understand?"

Terra's expression proved that he didn't. Or, he didn't want to. He nodded anyway.

Dilan stepped closer and spoke in a half-whisper, "You and the other Keybearers don't stay here more than a week at a time, so you couldn't have known what's really happening on this world. Even is destroying us. Ever since Ansem became bedridden and Even appointed himself steward, he's enacted a series of draconian laws designed to starve and persecute the refugees from other worlds. He's turning us against each other, poising this kingdom to destroy itself from within."

Terra stared at him bewilderingly. "Why…why would he do this?"

The knight-captain scowled. "Because Even is in league with the Heartless."

He didn't recoil in shock. Terra didn't regard him with wild astonishment or demand an explanation. He simply…stood there, staring off into the middle distance and realizing, slowly, that it all made too much sense.

"You've already considered this?" Dilan probed. "No, you've already sensed the darkness in Even, haven't you?"

Terra nodded, cupping his chin in dreaded thought. "It was at Ienzo's funeral. I thought I sensed something, but…"

The knight-captain continued, "Everything that's happened these past few days is all because of Even. He organized the disastrous reconnaissance mission that destroyed most of my unit and put Naomi in her coma. Even knew the risks—he designed them—and he sent Ienzo and your wife anyway. He's wanted Ienzo dead for years."

"Why?" No skepticism, no uncertainty. It was barely even a question.

"Do you remember Princess Evelyn?"

"How could I forget? Ienzo's older sister…Even's late wife."

"Do you remember how she died?"

"A single Heartless bypassed the castle's security…" No sooner than he'd said the words did he realize the absurdity of the report.

"Ah, you get it, don't you?"

Terra nodded. "A Heartless couldn't have gotten through your security. Not unless…"

"Even opened the door and let it right in. Convenient, that. A single, insignificant little Heartless—a Shadow, by the looks of it—had the brains and the skill to circumvent every tried and tested security measure Aeleus and I put in place to prevent such an infiltration from ever happening. And, when this astronomically lucky little Heartless gained access to the impregnable palace, it wasn't drawn to the two Keybearers chaperoning Princess Kairi's sleepover. No, that would've made sense."

Terra stared gravely. "Even killed his wife?" That, too, was not a question.

"How else do you explain how he singlehandedly slew the Heartless without a scratch, but not before it took the heart of his dear, innocent Evelyn?"

"But, why did he do it?"

"Because Evelyn and Ienzo were the last of a powerful but dying bloodline that stood directly between Even and the throne. They were the kin of Ansem the Wise, and only by marrying into their family was Even able to claim any legitimacy in the line of succession. After that, all that remained was disposing of the competition."

Terra's eye narrowed. "So, if Even wanted Ienzo and his family dead…"

"Then it all makes too much sense why he sent Ienzo and your wife to the Heartless borderlands. And, it wasn't just them. Even knows Aeleus and I are onto him. That's why he sent us as well, but with only a platoon of unqualified rookies. None of us were supposed to return alive. Not I, not Aeleus, not Ienzo…" He made a gesture to Naomi on the bed. "And not your wife."

The Keybearer looked again to Naomi. But, where before there was only crippling sorrow, something else now stirred inside him. Something he feared to unleash without asking the most crucial question of all. "Do you have any evidence? —anything we can use to impeach Even?"

At this, Dilan reached inside his coat and produced a weathered, 8mm digital camera. "Of course, I do. But, Even controls everything. The crown, the courts, and, judging by that mob outside, the minds of the people as well. He is simply above the law. If we're to dethrone him, we must act in secret."

Terra didn't take the camera. He only bristled, staring wide-eyed at the royal guard before him. "…You're talking about a coup."

"I am. Only see for yourself how dire the situation has become."

He handed the camera to Terra, whose eye widened upon closer inspection of the device. "This…this is Naomi's."

Dilan nodded. "She brought it with her on the reconnaissance mission." He explained the photos as Terra browsed them, "The photographs of the Emblem Factory in the borderlands are already public knowledge, but Aeleus and I decided to go a step further. Scroll to this morning, just after midnight. You'll see what Even was up to mere hours before Ienzo's funeral."

Terra glanced to him once more, dreading the man's confidence. Dreading what he'd find. The pit in his stomach had grown increasingly deeper as the conversation turned to treason, but now the consuming void inside had reached terrifying new depths he hadn't believed possible.

But he had to know.

And so, swallowing silently, Terra did as Dilan ordered. He scrolled to the current day, February 7, and found a recording timestamped just before the first light of dawn. He clicked on the video and beheld a murky, winter-swept scene illumined by the camera's night-vision feature. The image was of the Emblem Factory, just outside the frighteningly large warehouse doors, where dozens of newly-formed artificial Heartless ventured into the elements for the first time. Many of the unnatural species were brand-new, and others were fearsome improvements of those seen before. Around the factory grounds were scattered the dynamic, ossified corpses of Even's old "Calamity Soldiers"—the super-powered mutants created from the recovered material of the infamous "calamity from the sky" that destroyed Ienzo and Evelyn's duchy. The curious Emblems regarded their statue-like progenitors with some degree of interest before abandoning them for other oddities.

A mule-drawn carriage drove into view before the warehouse doors, where two figures disembarked. The first of these, to Terra's shock, was Braig. He'd opened the carriage door and bowed comically—perhaps mockingly—to the next man to emerge.

Even.

The camera was zoomed-in enough to capture his unmistakable face perfectly.

The enhanced microphone feature kicked in, followed by the audio-isolator so that that Terra heard every word spoken between the two traitors with only minimal interference from the trilling static and factory noises.

A third figure approached, a tall, horned silhouette emerging from the Heartless warehouse, though the form became clear soon enough. Terra scowled at beholding her.

Maleficent.

"I'm impressed, Even," she said. "Not even our Emperor Palamecia could manage an output this efficient."

"You honor me, my Mistress," Even replied with a sickening smirk. "When will you require them for the invasion?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"You understand why, of course."

Terra's eyes widened as the pieces fell together. He breathed the words as Even spoke them, "For the visiting Coalition leaders."

Maleficent smiled. "History will remember February the eighth as the day the last bastions of light fell to never-ending darkness. Thirteen leaders from eight different worlds, all gathered under one roof controlled by the Dark Seekers. There's not been a trap so perfectly prepared in our lifetimes."

Something beyond the lens' range caught the villains' attention. They turned back to the warehouse, to face a tall, thin figure walking with a cane and garbed all in black—a heavy, winter overcoat and an old-fashioned fedora, the brim of which partially concealed his or her face. What little was visible of this individual's face was grotesquely distorted either by static or by scars. Long, straight hair of an indiscernibly light color fell past the shoulders.

Maleficent addressed the newcomer, "What news, V—"

An abrupt, harsh roaring from the side spiked the camera's audio. A quick turn to the side revealed a skull-faced, quadrupedal Heartless with blazing-gold eyes, almost dinosaurian in appearance—a Living Bone—roaring shockingly near to the camera. It pounced.

The video ended.

Terra stared slack-jawed and wide-eyed, still unable to process everything he'd witnessed. It was all too surreal.

Dilan said, "Regrettably, that's all I could record. By the time I'd fought off the Heartless, Even and Maleficent were gone. I've shown the footage to Aeleus, but neither of us know who this 'V' character might be. It hardly matters, though. Everything you need to know the truth is on that tape. If we're to stop Even and save the worlds, we need to act tonight."

Terra turned to face him, his face haggard. "And…you trust me? Even after…?"

Dilan took back the camera and said, "Terra, whatever you are, whatever dark powers you and the Keybearers call upon, you keep the worlds safe. After Sephiroth used his own dark power to save Naomi's life, I've learned to turn a blind eye to the means and care only for the results. You've fought back Palamecia, slain countless Heartless, and saved more innocent lives than I imagined could exist. Darkness or not, you're the heroes we need. You're the only ones who can save the worlds and avenge everyone we've lost."

A brief silence passed as Terra weighed and considered everything with a heavy heart. But now, after everything he'd seen, the heartbreak that tormented him was now coupled with a rising, concealed rage. He closed his eye for a moment, then reopened it; where before it trembled with grief, it was now steady with cold fury.

And it luminesced with the telltale glow of darkness.

"Does Master Xehanort know?"

Dilan smiled. "He will. I came here to visit Aeleus, but was just on my way to your Master's estate. Care to join me?"

He shook his head. "Go on ahead. I…need to take care of something."

The smile persisted. "Understandable. I'll see you at dinner."

Even turned for the door, but stopped when Terra spoke again. "Dilan…where's Even right now?"

The imperial guardsman kept his back turned to conceal the widening, venomous grin. He'd promised Aeleus that someone else would take the fall for Even's murder—someone who'd suffered great loss and needed only a point in the right direction for retribution—but he never imagined it would be this easy. At length, Dilan answered, "Six PM on a Thursday evening? I'd imagine he's preparing for his after-dinner stroll in the royal garden. He enjoys smoking in the easternmost corner, surrounded by the sculptures. It's a shame, though. Without Aeleus or I on patrol, security will be rather…lax."

Silence hung between them. It screamed between them. The message was explicitly clear. Had Terra removed his jacket, one might've seen the blackening veins along his arms, yet the faintest hint of these might've been perceived at the midpoint of his throat, a harrowing complement to his corrupted eye.

Dilan left the room at that, finding the mob still waiting outside, and he closed the door behind him, leaving Terra alone with his murderous thoughts and his near-murdered wife.

His eye shone with golden fury. His fists clenched at his side.

And he knew where Even was right this moment.

He left through the window, unwilling to fight his way through the mob in the hall. His boots crunched in the snow from the two-story drop, and he felt none of the impact. Instead, he paced automatically, determinedly through the hospital's side gate with his vengeful eye locked on the distant palace. He might've flown on his glider, but witnesses were the last thing he needed.

Terra kept to the alleys, the backstreets, the underground waterways where none would see him. The shadows along a partially-roofed canal twitched and crawled, eager to know where this creature of darkness came from and why he so perfectly resembled a man. The Heartless shrank back into the gloom when Terra passed by and spared a glance their way. Their golden eyes gazed into his, and, consequently, into his heart. Many among them fled—not out of fear of their burgeoning kinsman, but fear for him. They had an urgent message to deliver.

But one shadow among the murky conglomerate—one at the canal's end, where Terra now stood—was bolder than the rest. A skeleton-thin, pitch-black arm emerged from the wall behind Terra as he stared down the cowering abyss, and the spiderlike fingers reached for his lower back, his pocket, the string of his Wayfinder…

Terra sensed it and spun around, Earthshaker flashing into his grip—

—and all he found was a walkie-talkie clattering to the ground.

That only worsened the apprehension. An enemy was visible, killable—but a mystery was an unknown, a taunt from his own fear. He glanced around, desperate to find the one who delivered it.

Static chirped from the fallen radio as a man's smooth, pleasant voice spoke through it, "It's not gonna bite you."

The geomancer grunted, then scooped up the transceiver. "Who is this?"

"A friend, I should hope."

"This 'friend' got a name?"

"Oh, several. The Baron. Samedi. Saturday. The Loa of Life. Take your pick."

Terra rolled his eyes. "I don't have time for this."

He loosened his grip to drop the radio, but the voice froze him in place: "They're watching you."

Alright. That was something. "…The Heartless?"

"The hoods, my man. The men in the black hoods."

Alright. That was concerning.

The smooth voice continued, "Check the roof southwest. He's blendin' real good with that chimney smoke."

Where before Terra had no intention of humoring him, the possibility of an unseen threat was too disturbing to ignore. He couldn't turn around without alerting this hooded spy that he'd been made, but there was a small leak along the canal wall. It'd work. Moving as furtively as possible, Terra reached his palm into the small waterfall, catching and freezing enough of the fluid before recoiling. He'd cast the spell to polish this small ice chunk with a mirror's sheen and used this to stealthily survey the roof a short distance behind him without turning to face it.

Terra grimaced.

The man on the radio didn't lie. A form in a black, hooded cloak blended well with the chimney smoke.

Terra dropped the makeshift mirror, returning it to liquid mid-fall, as he spoke into the transceiver, "I see him."

The man on the other side chuckled sharply. "Well, then. I guess the dream really is bleedin'…"

Terra didn't have any patience for cryptic nothings. "Are they with Even?"

"Even? Oh, much worse than that, I'm afraid."

"His enemies?"

"And yours. Enemies of all in the waking world." A pause. A deliberate one. Then, "They're movin' after Riku."

Terra did a doubletake at the radio in his hand, shocked yet dumbfounded at the news. It took a moment to realize his breath had grown shallow and his hand was now trembling. "Wh…what?"

"Did I stutter? Riku's in danger."

The Keybearer grunted, muscles tightening and veins blackening, his golden eye blazing furiously, and he spun around with Earthshaker drawn to pursue the hooded man on the roof.

But he was already gone.

Seething and horrified, he turned back to the roofed canal.

The radio stopped him. "Your boy ain't at home, if that's what you're thinking."

"Then, where is he?!"

"Follow the lights."

Terra practically spat, "What lights?"

"You won't see 'em with your human eye."

"What are you—?"

"You know what I'm talkin' 'bout. Use that darkness, boy. Let the shadows light the way."

Under any other circumstances, learning that an enigmatic messenger knew the secret of his festering darkness would have paralyzed him with fear. Instead, it only furthered his frustration. "I am using this damn darkness!"

"I see that big, golden eye. Bright as the sun itself. The shadows got no time for sunshine. You wanna see true darkness, you gotta go deeper than that. Of course, if you need a little help…"

A sharp, stabbing pain jolted through the back of Terra's neck. He grunted and flailed around, back to the canal's exit, but the fleeting form that injured him was already gone, leaving only the transient image of something tall and wiry thin; a form swathed in scarlets, violets, and other dark hues and a top hat besides; the impression of a skull rather than a face, outshone by a pair of beady, intensely luminescing violet eyes. And there, on the skeleton-man's index and middle fingers, was a splash of Terra's stolen blood.

Or so Terra believed he saw.

It was gone before he could truly fathom it.

Terra clamped a hand over the bleeding spot in his neck to magically heal it, and he shouted to the empty air, "What the hell was that?!"

The radio replied, "Your invitation. Look to the sky. You see the lights now?"

Despite the anger and the lingering sting, and never realizing that the dark glow of his eye changed from gold to violet, Terra did as the voice instructed. What he saw froze his heart and choked his breath away.

It was the same sight Vanitas beheld in Xehanort's study.

The oily shadows.

The nightmarish mist.

The towering mountains beyond

And the beasts. Winged forms of every size, some practically titans, ruled the maddening skies.

Terra staggered back at this manifestation of Hell, at the volcanic sulfur invading his nose, but he was steadied by a pair of strong, spiderlike hands clutching his shoulders. Keeping his trembling eye locked on eldritch wasteland, the Keybearer practically gasped, "What…where are we…?"

As the fingers massaged his shoulders, the voice from the radio spoke in his ear, infinitely smoother without the static, "You're in my world now. Not your world. But it's no matter. You've got friends…"one hand left Terra's shoulder and directed him to a pale, glimmering light in the sky—the luminescence of a lanky, horned, winged, and rat-tailed Heartless resembling a fire-gnarled demon, "…on the other side."

The claim was outright comical. And yet, Terra's new sight spanned what should've been an impossible distance and allowed him to see the pale, star-bright demon in striking, hideous detail. It raised one arm and pointed to the east. It spoke something that Terra shouldn't have been able to hear, let alone understand, but a submergence this deep into darkness cared little for the laws of the natural world. The demonic Pureblood spoke in a voice faint, squelching, and guttural, "Right…this…way…"

The enigmatic man spoke again, "Follow him and you'll find Riku. Happy hunting, champ. …Oh, and you won't need this." The man's free hand reached for Terra's eyepatch and tore it from his face. The Keybearer flinched at first and caught the black cloth in its fall, but it dawned on him immediately after…

His eye was back.

Or, rather, some manifestation of his eye at this extreme stage of darkness, glowing a violet uniform with the physical eye. As the man released his shoulder, Terra whipped around to face him, but found only vermilion mist remained.

The demon beckoned once more, "Right…this…way…"

Terra turned back to the Heartless, overwhelmed by everything, not the least of which being that this subspecies of Heartless could speak. It did so with a forked tongue.

But he couldn't afford to delay. No father could, knowing his son was in danger. And so, he ran. Faster—far faster, he realized—than a human should've been capable of running, even with magic. He summoned his Keyblade Glider and took to the skies, drawing the attention of several people in the streets below. They didn't seem to notice the nightmare world Terra was so immersed in. How could they have known?

He followed the shining, flying star of a Heartless eastward, to the forest, and found that, like his body, his glider flew exponentially faster with the power of darkness.

The falling snow intensified. A storm gradually obscured natural sight, and as it did, the Heartless guide's piercing glow settled to a bright, bloody scarlet.

The blizzard was impenetrable. Riku clung to Smee's coat so they wouldn't lose each other in the whiteout. Neither had counted on a storm when they departed from the cave, and the toddler in his winter coat and funeral suit asked his elderly guide, "Should we go back?"

Smee shook his head. "We've come too far."

But then another fear entered young Riku's mind. This blizzard was thick. "How—how do you know where you're going?"

The ex-pirate smiled as warmly as he could under the circumstances. "Half-Heartless. We're very good at finding hearts, you know. And, since home is where the heart is, I know the way home."

That…couldn't have been true. A physical heart and a metaphorical one were two completely different things. …Right? Riku grimaced. "Are you serious?"

Smee chuckled and placed his arm over the boy, hoping to provide even a bit more warmth. "Absolutely! It's how I found you, after all. You must have a very big heart."

Riku huffed. Now he knew Smee was lying. All the same, that didn't change that they trekked for Xehanort's manor, the last place Riku ever wanted to return to. "I don't wanna see Xehanort again."

Smee gave him an empathetic look. "Stay strong, Riku. We won't have to worry about him much lon—"

He froze, eyes fixed to something beyond the white veil. Something that stole his breath and made him stagger and shiver. Riku nearly asked what had paralyzed him so, but one glance into the whiteout was enough to cripple him with that same fear.

The man in black.

A towering apparition—obscured by the sable cloak and cowl, the left hand a clawed, golden gauntlet beneath the sleeve—stood several yards before them in the raging snowsquall. But that wasn't all. His gun was aimed right for them.

He didn't say a word.

Mr. Smee cried, "Riku, run—!" as a small explosion burst from the gun's three barrels and obliterated the Heartless half of Smee's face, blasting him off his feet and scattering him across the snow.

As if in a trance, all Riku could do was stand exactly where he was as his eyes remained paralyzed on Smee's half-shattered corpse. There was no blood. Only the smoking, disintegrating wafts of shadow.

He could not look away, but his mind shrieked at him to do exactly that.

He could not run, but his heart thundered desperately for him to do so.

He could not scream, but he felt the terror choking his throat.

He couldn't even hear the man in black's footfalls crunching in the snow, didn't even fight back when the gold claws of his left hand clasped Riku's shoulder and turned him to gaze into the abyss beneath the hood.

And then came the roaring in the distance, breaking Riku from his trance. Both he and the hooded man snapped their gazes to the impenetrable distance, where the hellish howling resonated once more, joined by a second, a third—

Three horrible roars in all, all simultaneous, all braying for blood with vocal cords no mortal beings should have possessed. Then the sound of rapid earthquakes came thundering forward, and the beast's six scarlet eyes pierced the rushing white. Fire flashed from its three, cadaverous maws, and soon the black, hulking form of an apocalyptic titan pounced into view. Had it not been for the man in black tossing Riku away with his gold hand, the gigantic hellhound would have crushed him underfoot.

The boy skidded across the snow, catching only glimpses of the black cloak staving off the fire-breathing titan. He soon gathered himself and sat upright, but still couldn't scream at the horrid battle before him. His eyes trembled with tears, his jaw hung open as gags of a lost wail were silenced by the raging blizzard.

Three engraved barrels exploded their simultaneous discharges through the squall, blasting away blood-soaked flesh from the lightning-fast muzzles that missed their mark by only precious millimeters with every inhuman dash of the form in black. Flames licked his coattails, scorched his sleeves, and one miscalculated weave ensnared his golden claws in the clamped fangs of the centermost head. The man recoiled as something discharged from his arm, and the center head detonated from within, crimson lightning exploding from emptied eye sockets, the purged snout, and the widening, burning maw as the hooded gunslinger dashed back with half his left sleeve gone, revealing his golden arm extended far beyond the wrist.

Smoke obscured the head caught in the blast as the other two recoiled, granting the hooded man time enough to extend his open talons in Riku's direction. An unnatural warping sound, as of the air itself being torn apart by astral commands, caught Riku's ear. He spun around to find a swirling ellipsoid of churning, writhing shadows before him, standing defiantly against the rushing snowsquall and inviting him in.

The hooded man called in a crisp, gravelly voice, "Go! Hurry!" But his command became a shriek as the scorched, skull-remains of the centermost maw burst from the smoke and ensnared him at the waist by its massive fangs. Riku whipped his head back and, at long last, was able to scream.

Mr. Smee is gone…

I don't know the way home…

There is no home…

And there are monsters everywhere…!

He gazed back to the blizzard, in the direction Mr. Smee had led him. Smee himself was little more than a crumbling pile of shadowy matter, constantly swept away by the winds. Could Riku find his way home without him? Could he avoid the hooded man's spectral doorway altogether and outrun the undead hellhound? He didn't know.

But he tried anyway.

Panicked gunshots accompanied by the enormous demon's growls and billows of flame urged Riku away. And so, with tears streaming down his eyes, he sprinted back into the snow.

And stopped the moment he beheld the red star rushing for him.

In a matter of moments, the Mephistophelean vision he suffered in the dream returned—ethereal mountain ranges and eldritch fog infested with demonic forms of every sort, all of it more tangible and choking than reality itself—and the red star was no longer only that. He saw the pale, flame-gnarled form within, its hideous parody of eyes and stark fangs. And, not far beyond the false star, something flew on a twisted, mechanical steed. Something ironclad and horned. Something racing right for him.

The scream died just after reaching his lips, and Riku abandoned all hopes of running home. He spun around and stumbled, staggered, sprinted blindly for anywhere but the nightmare made real. He didn't notice the dark corridor until he was already halfway through it. The last thing he heard was the voice of his stepfather calling his name.

"RIKU!" Terra shrieked through his helm as he leapt from his glider and refashioned it into his Keyblade. But the corridor vanished into nothing before he reached the ground. He clawed desperately for the last, fading wisps of darkness that the roaring winds and snow stole from his gauntleted fingers.

He stared at his empty palm in heartbroken silence, his haggard breaths drowned by the evening storm. He noticed but didn't care for Smee's disintegrating corpse. He heard but worried little for the supernatural battle a short distance away. All that mattered was that Riku was gone.

Naomi and Ienzo…and now you, too…

Somewhere beneath the horned helm, he felt the moisture trickling down his cheeks. Both of them. Even his false eye—the eye granted by darkness—indulged his mourning.

And, how quickly darkness turned that sorrow to rage.

He clenched his empty fist tight and whipped around to face the titanic, fire-breathing, three-headed hellhound opening its fanged jaws to roar hungrily for the new arrival. Its centermost head had been burned away to little more than a smoldering skull, still as animate as the other two. To the monster's side lay the ragged, mangled form of a man in black—uniform with those the skull-faced man had warned him of—struggling to return to his feet.

Terra glared at the hooded gunman. "Enemies of all in the waking world," the messenger had warned him. "They're movin' after Riku."

And now Riku was gone. All that stood between Terra and his son's abductor was the advancing, canid demon just inviting him to slay it.

The red star Heartless, hovering far overhead, cast all in a vermilion glow. Terra's hatred coursed through his blackened veins, blazed through his amaranthine eyes, manifested in the corrupted, unstable Bladecharge that transformed Earthshaker into a seven-foot longsword of pure, writhing darkness.

The beast leapt.

So did Terra.

The smoking skull opened wide with flame.

The shadow-charged blade tore straight through apocryphal bone, deeper into the neck's scorched pelage, and, surpassing all sane limits of mortal strength, Terra screamed and stormed deeper still, never ceasing until the corrupted weapon cut completely through the wretched titan, bisecting it straight down the middle.

At last, the monster collapsed and roared its last on either side of the vengeful Keybearer, drenching the surrounding snow and every inch of his armor and billowing cape in torrents of the abomination's blood. Even the blizzard itself slowed from the unholy execution.

But that was only the warmup.

The man in black still lived.

Terra craned his blood-soaked visor over his shoulder and found the hooded gunslinger returned to his feet, but hunched over and only barely capable of balance. His coat was seared and shorn; long locks of wild, ebony hair hung from his cowl; the hood, partially burnt away, revealed ghostly-pale skin, abnormally large canine teeth, and a blazing, fire-red eye glaring intensely at the Keybearer. He raised his right, black-gloved hand, aiming the triple-barreled revolver at the Keybearer. He, too, was cast in the all-encompassing red light of the flying Heartless guide.

A scene of pure, hateful red.

Red-cast snow.

A red-cast coat and gleaming-red revolver.

Red-cast armor under glistening-red blood, gripping a spectral blade of rushing, roiling shadow.

Neither waited for the other to make the first move.

Terra's shadow-charged speed practically flashed him across the distance, though a well-placed tri-shot of the enemy's pistol blasted away the entire right half of Terra's helmet, down to the gorget covering his neck, so that the blazing violet of his eye joined his blade in piercing the overcast scarlet. The half-hooded man staggered back, aimed again—

—fired wide as Terra's monstrous longsword slashed clean through the gunslinger's left clavicle, carving all the way to his waist and cutting him diagonally in half.

Time itself seemed to slow as the rivers of blood burst from the gunman's bisected halves, and Terra savored the look of purest shock and regret in his opponent's face as his top half fell back, back through the air until splashing into the snow. Amazingly, he still held onto that pistol.

Terra gazed down on his fallen foe with that vengeful, violet eye, deactivating Bladecharge as the blizzard steadily returned.

And then it hit him.

He's the only one who knows where Riku is.

Madly, desperately, the armored Keybearer knelt at the man's side and grabbed him by his right shoulder and collar. He pulled him up only slightly, causing the cowl's remains to fall back and fully reveal the face of the open-eyed corpse. The black mane that fell past his shoulders. The scarlet sash wrapped 'round his forehead. The sheer deadness of the man's pale face reminded Terra of the insanity of interrogating a corpse.

Terra cursed under his breath and looked away.

He's really gone. I'll never see Riku again…

His grip loosened on the black coat, ready to drop him—but then the man's remaining arm shot around Terra's neck, clutching the back of his hair in a vise-grip, and before the terror could fully register, the undead fiend sank his fangs into Terra's exposed throat.

He couldn't scream, not with his vocal cords obstructed, and it was another second still before his panicked limbs remembered what they were for. As the blood ruptured from his veins and onto the vampire's face, Terra finally wrestled him away and staggered back to his feet, one hand drawing Earthshaker instinctively as the other clamped over the wound in his neck.

But then he saw it.

The redness was gone.

The vermilion light of the Heartless guide was gone, as was the Heartless itself. The Nightmare mists and the mountain range beyond, the oily shadows mingling with reality, the beasts of the air and the chthonic stench, all gone. The sight in his left eye as well. Fading though consciousness was, Terra was starkly aware that the world and his perception of it had returned to its natural state. Everything was normal once more. Everything…

…except his blood.

He saw it on the vampire's lips, saw it splashed on his face and emphasizing the red eyes even further. The blood was black.

Breathing raggedly as his limbs and lids grew heavier, he removed his hand from the side of his throat for confirmation of this twisted miracle.

His blood was black.

Terra's knees crashed to the ground. He gazed evermore from his half-obliterated helm into his open palm and contorted fingers soaked with the shadowy ichor.

This can't…be mine…

His eyes fell shut. His body grew heavier on one side, and he fell—