Darkness, darkness, darkness.
That was all they cared about, once. That was the basis of their studies. That was the thing they wanted to hold dominion over.
Xehanort was the one who was the most obsessed. Ienzo, following a close second, watched as the strange apprentice fell under its spell day by day. Soon it had taken hold, and was spread to the others like a disease, corrupting their hearts until it was all they saw, all they had, and Xehanort was its manifestation. Ienzo hungered for the darkness, for Xehanort. But the very darkness he sought was the thing that kept him from conquering it, the chains that bound him until he was unable to move, only to stare longingly at the shadows, at Xehanort.
It was the starvation that weakened him, not want of food but want of darkness, of burning golden-brown skin beneath his pale fingers, of silvery hair tickling his face. He grew even more thin and pale, more so than he always had been, his heart succumbing to the cankers swelling within, until it was consumed, lost to the darkness he had so desperately tried to master.
15. Ienzo/Starvation