A little hint for this chapter:

Sekhmet is the Egyptian goddess of the sun. She's the more violent version of Hathor, goddess of motherhood and love. Sekhmet was sent by Ra to destroy mankind and drink their blood. Creepy, no?

Also, most of this chapter was inspired by a scene from Inkdeath,by Cornelia Funke. If you haven't read the Inkheart trilogy, GO READ IT NOW. Those books are amazing.

Oh, and Lauren, sorry about the water thing. …grins sheepishly…


Not knowing how to think
I scream aloud, begin to sink
My legs and arms are broken down
With envy for the solid ground
- Blue October, "Into the Ocean"


It was like every nerve ending in Bruixe's body had gone dead, like she was frozen in time and everything else was moving around her, but she could react to none of it. Dimly she was aware that she was being dragged back to her room, her mangled forearm bandaged, the door slammed shut and locked this time.

Looking at the wound, she was sure it was supposed to hurt – people could die from injuries this bad, from blood loss, but that would be too easy. In a way she would have welcomed the pain – anything to break her out of this horrible emptiness inside her.

Terra was gone. Terra was dead, and it was her fault.

What she wouldn't give to be a Nobody again, to not be able to feel this horrible, heart-wrenching sorrow.

There is a way,Xehanort reminded her. An escape from your suffering.

I won't let you in,Bruixe thought raggedly. Don't even think about it.

It felt like days before her door opened again, but the moon was only just beginning to reach its peak in the sky – it couldn't have been more than six hours.

"Time to go," Isalena said. "Come, show me what you have accomplished."

Bruixe only glared at the Councilor, then remembered that Isalena couldn't see her eyes anyway.

"Come," Isalena ordered again.

Finally Bruixe found her voice. "No," she whispered. Then, stronger, "No more."

Isalena's eyes were like ice, cold and unfeeling, all traces of false charm gone. "Don't be foolish," she warned.

"I won't do this!" Bruixe screamed, jumping to her feet, hands balled into fists, her wounded arm protesting. "Enough of your damn games! I won't do it – I won't let you hurt more people! Go on, kill me, I don't care!"

"Have you forgotten our deal?" Isalena reminded her. "Your life isn't the only one at stake here."

"So what?" Bruixe screeched, lunging at the Councilor with no thought of her own safety.

Isalena's hand closed around Bruixe's bandaged arm, fingernails digging in like claws, and twisted; Bruixe fell to her knees, gasping.

"You have no power here," Isalena hissed.

Bruixe's good hand scrabbled around for a weapon, anything, and came up lucky – a shard of mirror the length of her middle finger.

"You belong to me," the Councilor continued. "I give the orders, and you follow them."

She flung the shard with all her might; if she'd been throwing with her right, it would have undoubtedly killed the woman. Left-handed, however, it missed her throat by a hair, slicing through the flesh along the side of her jaw.

The retaliation was swift; Isalena jerked Bruixe into a standing position and slapped her across the face.

"So be it," she said darkly, dragging Bruixe out of the room.

"Bring me the boy," she ordered one of the guards.

Riku, I'm sorry. The words were like a mantra. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

"I'm not afraid to die, Bruixe."

They would die together, then. At least… at least she could do that much. But Sora and Kairi and Ren... would they die, too?

If only she'd been able to kill Isalena…

I still can, she thought determinedly.

Isalena threw her to her knees in the front hall, and a ring of soldiers formed around them. From another side of the circle, someone shoved Riku in; his jacket was unzipped over his chest, bandages tightly bound around his lower ribs. Were they broken? Did it matter?

"Bruixe?" he whispered. "What…"

"It's… it's time," she said brokenly.

By the sudden, blank look on his face, she knew he understood; his expression settled into grim acceptance.

"The others are safe," he told her. "Terra… Terra got them out. And Ren's sister is with them."

Bruixe nodded. At least someone would know what had happened. At least they would be able to warn someone, if Bruixe failed here.

She held out her hand for Fallen Angel, but her wounded arm wouldn't grip, wouldn't hold it; the muscle was too severely damaged. It clattered to the floor, and before she could reach for it with her left, Isalena kicked it away and seized the good arm, beckoning two guards forward. They moved to take her from Isalena, twisting one arm behind her back and forcing her to her knees.

Riku watched Isalena warily, but seemed to know he couldn't fight alone – she'd already beaten him once, and now he was injured.

Isalena turned to Bruixe, steely eyes glittering. "I believe I told you the consequences if you were to refuse my terms," she said frostily. "The death of your little boy-toy here. However, I seem to have neglected the circumstances of that death."

The rapier-like Keyblade appeared in her hand, and she raised it in front of her, studying it. The blade reminded Bruixe of a lotus flower, with wide, teardrop-shaped petals; the handle was etched with circles and lines, like the rays of the sun.

"Sekhmet and I have been through a lot together," Isalena said softly. "Since the very beginning of the Keyblade Wars, she has been my partner. Of course, I didn't know what she was capable of, then.

"Sekhmet, the Divine Punisher," she whispered softly. "She unlocks a person's fear – their greatest fear. And she makes it reality."

Isalena lowered the tip of the blade until it rested against Bruixe's forehead. She didn't move, watching Isalena with a level gaze, refusing to show fear.

"What do you fear, little heroine?" the Councilor whispered.

Trying not to think about her fears made her think about them, of course.

She was fifteen years old, and her hair had been short, then, only to her chin. Sometimes she looked like a boy, if she wore the right kind of clothing, and that was useful, because the Temple guards weren't looking for a little boy. They were looking for Rubesia, their little runaway. But even when they found her, she always ran again – and she had help.

"Are you mad?" Terra muttered as he hastily guided her out of the Temple. "If you keep stealing, they'll keep catching you. And even Councilor Garrison's patience is bound to break sometime."

"I'm not afraid of him," Rubie muttered.

"I know," Terra replied, giving a wry smile. "Tell me, Changeling, is there anything you are afraid of?"

Rubie thought about it, and answered honestly. "Small places. There's nowhere to run. And… and water."

Terra shook his head. "Water? Really?"

"Not all water," she admitted.

"Drowning, then?" Terra asked.

Rubie shrugged, trying to sound casual. "I guess."

As if she could hear the words in Bruixe's head, Isalena chuckled. "Water it is."

At the same moment Bruixe felt the water rising up her legs as if it the darkness inside her had taken form, cold and creeping. Panic filled her veins, but she forced herself to be still, to show nothing.

It's not real, she told herself. It's not real.

"You know," Isalena said conversationally, "I've seen this at work many times, but it's always different. Well, the method is always different. In the end, everyone is the same. Even the strongest of hearts – well, who can feel like a hero when they tremble with fright and know it comes from themselves?"

Bruixe felt what Isalena was describing even as the older woman spoke. Her eyes must be lying to her – because she couldn't be alone, in this room, for where could the guards have gone? And Riku… Riku, where was he…

The arms of the guards that had held her were now iron fetters, chaining her to a cold stone wall. Not real. This isn't real.

It was suddenly dark, and the once-wide space of the hall seemed to have collapsed in on itself, and the walls were close, so close, and she thought that if she screamed it would echo around for an eternity, with no one to hear it, no one but Isalena. But she would not scream. She must not…

"What do you say, Bruixe, dear?" Isalena asked. "How does it feel to doubt your own sanity?"

Isalena's voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere as the water rose to Bruixe's neck. She tried to kick, to push herself upwards and tread water, but something – it's not real – something was pulling her downwards.

"Yes, if you want to break a heroine, this is the way," the Councilor went on. "Let her lose herself, let her howl like a mad dog, let her trap herself in her own fear. Let loose those terrors which can kill so effectively from the inside."

The water crept up her face, and Bruixe thrashed futilely against her bonds, struggling to get at least her nose above the surface, anything.

Images floated past her, as if reflected in the watery depths. She saw Rondot dragging Ren out of a building by her hair, saw Sora fighting valiantly to protect Kairi, blood dripping down the sides of his face… and Riku, still-faced, his skin pale as ice, his blue-green eyes staring at nothing, nothing at all.

Pain shot through her as her breath finally failed, and water clogged her throat, her lungs. She struggled for air, but there was none, and there was nothing but blue, cold and unfeeling –

"Well?" Isalena demanded. "Do we remember our place, now?"

Yes! she tried to scream,

And then she fell forward, no longer supported, a firm, hard surface under her, and she shivered as if with fever – or was it from the cold?

She choked, air filling her lungs, and retched, but her skin was strangely dry – and then she remembered that it was all in her head, a trick, an illusion of Isalena's. But the pain was real.

"Take her downstairs," Isalena said coldly.

She was vaguely aware of a struggle, and a furious voice. "What did you do to her?!"

Riku. Of course. He was here – it was just an illusion. Not real. But she shuddered uncontrollably at the memory of that still face, those eyes that would never see.

Guards seized her, forced her to her feet. And then, when she couldn't stand on her own, rough hands dragged her, across the hall and down a stairwell, into her own personal hell – the Room of Awakening.

The door slammed, and she was alone – or at least, alone in the room.

Fear is powerful,Xehanort observed.

Bruixe clapped her hands over her ears, still shaking. Get out of my head, she thought weakly. Get out.

For seventeen years, her mind had been her only sanctuary, the one place where no one could touch her. She felt sick, broken.

"Who can feel like a hero when they tremble with fright and know it comes from themselves?" Isalena had said.

It was true, Bruixe didn't feel like a hero. She felt like a terrified little girl.

I know who I am, she thought, but for the first time, she wondered if it was true.