Hey guys. Guess what? The musical's over. Which means I have way more time to update. I know, I know. I'm amazing. :) Anyway, I realize I upset a lot of you at the end of last chapter… I'm sorry… but it had to happen, because the rest of the story depends on it. So… hang in there. And I really, really hope I haven't lost anyone.
Once again, I don't own any of Square-Enix's characters, regardless of how much suffering I put them through. *sigh*
That said, enjoy.
I used to be my own protection, but not now
'Cause my path has lost direction somehow
A black wind took you away from sight
And held the darkness over day that night
So now you're gone and I was wrong
I never knew what it was like
To be alone
-Linkin Park, "Valentine's Day"
Bruixe was in the middle of severing a Chaser when it hit her – a blinding pain, somewhere beneath her breastbone, chasing the breath from her lungs and making her crumple to the ground.
She was dimly aware of the soul she hadn't finished screaming in agony – or were those her own screams? She couldn't tell.
The pain lessened a little, enough for her to breathe again, and now she was able to wonder what the hell was going on. Was this some Chaser side-effect?
No, Xehanort's voice answered her. This pain comes from you, from your own heart.
But why? Hearts didn't just explode in pain for no reason.
Slowly Bruixe got herself under control, forcing herself to her feet, and reached for Fallen Angel. But it was gone, probably having vanished when she fell.
She thrust a hand out, calling it to her, but nothing came.
What?
Bruixe tried again and again, but her Keyblade wouldn't come, and despite herself she felt the familiar verge of panic making its way into her heart.
Calm down, she told herself firmly. There's got to be a reason for this…
"My lady?" came a tentative voice from down the hall.
"Yes, what is it, Rawlings?" Isalena demanded impatiently.
Her servant approached, looking around anxiously. "There's been a slight problem."
Isalena fixed him with her steely glare, and Rawlings quailed. "Tell me," she ordered.
"Lord Rondot is dead," he said finally. "The Keybearer boy – the one who was in the City – came to attempt to rescue his friends. Rondot intercepted him, but the boy won."
"Impossible," Isalena scoffed. "That little lightweight wouldn't have stood a chance against Rondot's darkness."
"There is more," Rawlings said tentatively. "At the same time… one of the prisoners escaped. The boy. He joined forces with his friend."
Isalena's eyes widened.
"The soldiers who witnessed the battle tell me that Rondot did manage to kill the prisoner – Riku, wasn't that his name? The first boy was enraged. It was he who destroyed Rondot."
"You are telling me that the only bargaining chip I have to ensure the creation of my army is dead," Isalena seethed.
Rawlings cringed.
Isalena took several long breaths. "How many Chasers has Bruixe created?" she demanded.
"I don't know, my lady," Rawlings stammered. "A hundred, perhaps. Perhaps more."
"It will have to be enough," Isalena said decisively. "If the boy is dead, Bruixe will have no reason to obey me. She's far too dangerous to keep around in that situation. It's high time she disappeared."
Rawlings raised a hand timidly. "But my lady… how do you plan to control the Chasers… er, Wardens, without the girl?"
"We shall cross that bridge when we come to it," Isalena answered. "Rawlings. Find the captain of the guard, and tell him I want the girl executed."
Rawling's jaw fell slack. "What?"
"You heard me. Tell him…" A small, sardonic smile appeared on the Councilor's face. "Tell him to take her to the lake and drown her."
Why?! Bruixe thought angrily, hand clenching and re-clenching as if she could force Fallen Angel to appear. Why won't it come? Xehanort! Answer me!
But the voice of her father was strangely silent.
Great timing, she snarled mentally. Her arm throbbed, the wound Isalena had given her.
Isalena, she realized with a wave of dread. If the Councilor found out Bruixe couldn't make Chasers anymore…
Don't think about it, she told herself.
Footsteps echoed from outside; Bruixe whirled and faced the Room's entrance as the door burst open, soldiers filing in, lining the walls on all sides, weapons held at the ready. One strode forward, an officer of some sort by the look of him, and flicked the point of his blade up to Bruixe's throat. She didn't flinch, didn't move at all, just stood there, impassive, watching it all from behind the safeguard of her blindfold.
The officer gave a nod, and then she was hit from behind, and the world went black.
Sora clenched his teeth, brushing the tears from his face with the back of his arm, and forced his feet to move from where they seemed to have rooted themselves to the spot. Come on, he told himself. Now wasn't the time. He still had a friend in danger, after all.
How long had he been standing here? Stupid, he berated. Time was of the essence here – if anyone found out what had happened, stumbled across Rondot's corpse… because if Riku – Riku – well, Bruixe was in trouble, too.
He sprinted through the clearing, sore muscles protesting, but he'd run for longer, he'd felt worse. It was a matter of minutes before he reached the house – the building was obvious, really. It screamed 'evil'. Where better to house and torture two prisoners?
Sora slid to a stop and scanned the surrounding area for guards, but there were none. Not a good sign. Throwing caution to the winds, he strode forward, Keyblades at the ready, and pushed open the front door.
There was no one in sight; the house was deserted, but not dusty – which meant someone had been there recently, and Sora was willing to bet who.
Too late, he realized, and ran for the door, hoping he could reach Bruixe before he lost her, too.
As Bruixe regained consciousness, she became aware of three things.
First, that her hands were tied – no, chained – behind her back, and her legs were chained as well, at the ankles. Which led her to the second thing – she was being carried, slung unceremoniously over someone's shoulder, along a sandy road interspersed with rocks and random patches of dunegrass. Which meant that she was – near the lake?
The third thing she noticed was that there was an entire unit of soldiers around her, and they were talking in loud, harsh voices.
"Don't see why we had to go to all this trouble," said one. "I mean, dead's dead, if'n it's a knife to the gizzard or a drop in the lake."
"The lady had somethin' special in mind for this'n," replied another. "Downright sinister, if you ask me."
"Why're we offin' her anyway?" asked a third.
"Seems like a lot of trouble keepin' her alive all this time if'n we were just goin' ta kill her anyway," agreed the first.
"You didn' hear?" said a new voice in disbelief. "Ol' Steelena lost her barganin' chip."
Riku! Bruixe realized with jubilation. Riku got out!
"Whaddya mean?" someone asked.
A gruff snort. "The girl's trouble if we got nothin' to control her with. And Rondot up'n killed her little boyfriend this morning."
Bruixe's breath rushed out, and her heart seemed to be made of ice. Around her, the unit of soldiers came to a halt, and the man carrying her stepped forward.
"Damn shame," he said. "She's such a pretty thing."
"A pretty thing that took out Lieutenant Stenson," someone replied. "Good riddance."
A sudden lurch, and then Bruixe was falling, sideways, upside down, having just enough time to realize – she'd been thrown off a cliff.
Then the shock came, an explosion of icy water, rough with winter storms, and Bruixe just barely managed to keep air in her lungs, but the chains around her limbs were dragging her, and she couldn't kick or pull, not that she knew how to swim anyway, or that she even knew which way was up if she could.
Already her lungs were burning, demanding more air, but of course there wasn't any – this was the end, she was going to die, just like the horror-dream Isalena had given her. What was the point in struggling? After all, there was no way out of this one – no Riku there to save her –
Because Riku was dead. Even if she did manage to get out of this, it wouldn't bring him back – so why bother?
What would happen to her when she died? Would she become a Nobody again? No, that was impossible, because it wasn't darkness around her this time, it was water, and water didn't steal your heart, only your life.
She exhaled, expelling all her air in bubbles, ready to give up.
But who would willingly suck in a lungful of water? Even if she did want to die, even if she was ready –
But now her lungs were operating on their own, and involuntarily she felt her mouth open, and then she was choking, pain exploding in her chest. She couldn't see anymore – only blackness, and violently colored stars.
From somewhere, a splash, and a rush of tiny bubbles.
Strong arms clamped around her waist, dragging her backwards – or was it up? - and what felt like hours but must have been only thirty seconds later, air, blessed air, icy and sharp, but she couldn't force herself to breathe it.
Whoever had saved her pulled her to shore, dragged her up on the sands, pounded water from her lungs, and then, with a muttered curse, a mouth on hers, forcing the air into her body. Hands rolled her to the side as she choked, expelling the last of the water from her lungs, and her vision finally cleared.
"Jeez, Bruixe," said a voice, and her head whipped around, but it wasn't the face she was looking for, it was Sora's face, brown hair plastered to his head, skin pale with the cold.
Bruixe's teeth began chattering, and her breath came in short pants, but she asked anyway, because she had to know. "Is… is it… true?"
"Is what true?" Sora asked, but it was clear in his eyes that he already knew.
"Is he…" Bruixe began, but couldn't finish.
Sora closed his eyes and turned away. "…Yeah," he said finally. "He's gone."
Isalena paced back and forth across the Room of Awakening, pondering.
"Over one hundred Wardens, and no way to control them," she thought aloud. "It's a shame the girl had to be disposed of. She could have been quite useful…"
She sat in the sculpted chair, long fingers drumming against the arms, then said, "Xehanort!"
The Room hummed to life, and the greyish silhouette of her former comrade appeared.
"Isalena, my dear," Xehanort greeted her. "It's been too long."
"Indeed," Isalena agreed. "I find myself in need of your assistance."
"Oh, I know," Xehanort said airily. "Which is why I have decided to give you a gift."
Isalena raised a slim eyebrow as he drifted towards her and gripped her right hand.
"My useless daughter can't continue my work anymore," Xehanort whispered. "So I am counting on you."
"You have my word," Isalena promised, and then a Keyblade appeared in her hand, not Sekhmet, but a different Keyblade, its handle violet, its handguard and blade black; from its chain dangled a diamond-shaped symbol of silver thorns. Silver webs were etched in the handle, and the blade and handguard were designed to look like featheredwings.
Isalena's eyes widened as she recognized it, and she threw her head back as her laughter echoed around the Room.
ooo, scary... review please...
