And here's chapter five. Thank you KeybladeMaster97, Silverking32, and DaniPotterLovesGod for reviewing last chapter.

Chapter Five: Walking Alone

Xuren surveyed the small town under the protection of the Light Army from his hiding place in the shadows. He snickered as he watched the shaken forms of the Light Army Keybladers try to help the citizens of the small town put their home back together. He saw a few citizens approach Trevor and ask him about his face to face experience with the Knight once more. The young general, however, still seemed too shaken by the experience to give a good reply.

Xuren had a wide smirk plastered on his face. It was convenient that the Knight had attacked; it saved the Dark Army the trouble of doing it themselves. Then his smirk slipped away. The Knight may had provided them with revenge, of a sort, but it meant that it may still be close by. And that didn't bode well for them, either.

He turned his yellow eyes back to the carnage that filled the town. The smirk slipped back into place. "Perhaps I should spread a little more mayhem before I leave," he hissed, summoning his Keyblade. Lifting the weapon, he let off a Fire spell. The flaming projectile flew and collided with a small shack, causing it to burst into flames and forcing the workers to jump back.

"Fire!"

"Is it the Dark Army? Or did the Knight come back?"

"But the Knight never comes during the day!"

He released his weapon, spinning around and walking away. It was amusing how much panic one spell could cause. However, he couldn't stay long to enjoy the disarray of the Light Army scum; he had to report the presence of the Knight to the leader of the Dark Army.

Unbeknownst to him, Trevor had shifted his blue eyes away from the fire. The shining orbs narrowed as he watched the shape that was slinking off into the shadows of the alley.

Gillick had ended up weathering the night amidst the rocks in the somewhat barren landscape. When his eyes snapped open in the morning, he had to shield them from the glaring sunlight. He exhaled a heavy sigh, pushing himself up. He slipped the wanted poster out of his munny bag, examining the picture of Silver once more before putting it away once more. Then he jumped to his feet, slipping his sheathed weapon across his back and starting forward.

He hesitated as he heard a sound behind him. He reached up, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword. He glanced over his shoulder, amber eyes narrowed in a menacing glare. Nothing stirred. He snorted, lowering his hand. Stop imagining things, he growled to himself, going forward once more.

The sound erupted behind him once more. This time, he didn't hesitate. In one fluid movement, he reached up and jerked his sword out of its scabbard, spinning around and swinging towards the source of the noise. There was a yelp of surprise, and he stopped his sword just short of lopping off someone's head.

That 'someone' happened to be a young boy with dark blond hair who wore a shocked expression on his face. His mind flashed with recognition; this was the boy he'd saved the other night. "What are you doing here?" he hissed, straightening and re-sheathing his weapon.

The boy shook off his shock and fear. "Wow! That was really cool! Could you teach me to do that?"

Gillick's eyes narrowed. "Answer the question."

He blinked over-large eyes at the older boy. "I followed you. And it wasn't easy, either. I thought you'd notice me so many times, and one time the tracks disappeared-"

"I meant why," Gillick interrupted.

"Because I want to be a hero, like you."

He snorted, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I thought I told you I wasn't a hero."

"Yes you are!" the boy cried in response. "You saved Mom and I from those Light Army bullies."

He flinched at the word 'bullies', trying to stop the memory from flashing through his mind:

"Leave him alone!"

"Gil! Look out!"

"You're asking for it, kid."

"Gah!"

"I'm not interested in having a side-kick!" Gillick snapped as he pulled himself out of the memory. He spun around, heading away from the boy. "I work alone."

He heard footsteps behind him, and closed his eyes shut in frustration. The kid obviously didn't get the message. "Hey, what's your name? I'm Riun."

"I'm Gillick, if it's any of your concern," he growled back, quickening his pace.

Riun jogged to keep up. "Where are we going?"

"There is no 'we'," Gillick snapped, frustrated.

"Yes there is; I'm not going to leave now."

Gillick stopped abruptly, grabbing the collar of the kid's shirt and swinging him around so that he faced him. "How old are you?" he growled. "Six? Seven?"

"Nine," Riun responded indignantly, despite the fear glittering in his eyes at the older boy's sudden action.

"There's my point," Gillick growled. "I'm going to kill someone. You'd just get in the way." He tossed him backwards. "Go back home."

"But…I want to learn how to be a hero," he pouted. "And…Keybladers are chosen younger than I am."

Gillick froze. Keybladers…it always seemed to come back to them. He gritted his teeth as he heard Riun pipe up from behind him once more. "So, can I come?"

Once more, the sword flew from its scabbard. He hit the boy with the flat of his blade, sending him flying with terrifying force. "Leave me be!" he snarled. Then he shoved his weapon back into its sheath and raced off.

He knew that he should feel bad for attacking the kid; however, he couldn't muster up the emotion. Perhaps he'd simply spent too long on his own to let something like that bother him. What did bother him, however, were the memories that were pouring into his mind.

That boy…he reminded him of Trevor.

With a heavy heart, he wondered what his younger brother was doing now. The last he'd seen of him, Trevor had been a furious warrior of the Keyblade, fighting for the forces of the Light Army. He hadn't seen him in two years, since the last time he summoned his Keyblade. He probable hated him.

After all, the last time he'd seen him was when he'd tried to kill him.

Riun whimpered. The pain from the blow of Gillick's sword echoed through his body. He sniffed, brushing away tears. No crying. Heroes have to be tough.

But then, why had the other boy hit him? When he managed to push himself up, the only thing he could see of the figure he'd been following was a black spot racing off into the distance. He deflated. Maybe following him had been a bad idea. He didn't think a hero would attack a little boy, after all.

"But I'm not a little boy," he argued aloud. He stood up quickly, ignoring the protests of his body. "Maybe it means he thinks I'm tough enough! Maybe…this is a test!" After all, he could have hit him with the sharpened edges. Instead, he'd hit him with the flat, and not hard enough to break anything.

Riun gave a determined nod. "Yeah! I'll keep going! I'll show you that I can be a hero, too!"

Mala was huddled under a rocky overhang. Her hands were wrapped around her knees as she panted. Her head rested on said knees, and she tried to regain control over the fear that raged inside her.

The task was easier said than done.

Every time she closed her eyes, the image of the Knight seared her mind once more. Its movements, full of speed and power; its glowing arm; the eyes that flashed behind the tinted glass in its helmet. Even the Keybladers were terrified of it. It exuded an aura of power, and seemed to be completely lacking any form of human conscious, despite it's humanoid appearance.

She wondered how Trevor and the other Keybladers had faired. She hoped they were Ok. Once more, she cursed herself for running away. If she'd stayed and helped out, she would've already known whether or not everyone was alright.

As a thief, she'd long since learned to be wary and pick her battles wisely. Long ago, she'd decided it was better to be a living coward than a dead hero. And yet…she couldn't shake the guilt she felt at running away. Maybe it was because she knew what she was leaving them to…

"Stop it," she whispered to herself. "You're still alive, aren't you? So stop moping and keep living."

She inhaled deeply, then lifted her head. As she looked out, she saw the familiar dusty landscape begin to fade to green grass on the horizon. Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet. She slipped out from beneath the rocky over hang, walking out across the barren landscape towards the greener fields she saw beyond.

Deep within the recesses of a hidden cave, an old man stood, hands folded behind his back. The cave was cast in an odd mesh of stark highlights and deep shadows, despite the only light coming from the sphere that hovered before the man. A mist wreathed around the floor, adding shades of gray to the stark black and white.

The man's tired old eyes gazed into the sphere. Within its glowing blue depths, he saw the image of the Knight. "Perhaps I made a mistake," he whispered.

The image shifted of its own accord. The man resigned himself to watching the new scene. After all, he had no control of the temporal magic. The image refocused into the image of Xuren, talking to the leader of the Dark Army. Their voices echoed off the walls of the cave.

"The Knight?"

Xuren nodded. "Apparently, it wrecked and entire village."

The leader of the Dark Army pursed his lips, his anxiousness shown in the thin line. "We'll have to set up a watch. We can't afford to have this monster striking us unawares."

"Of course."

The man watched with shadowed eyes as the image changed again. This time, it was to the town that had been attacked. Trevor and the leader of the Light Army were talking as they walked slowly through the streets.

"…At least most of the bodies are gone," Trevor whispered, though his voice still held the lingering terror of the night before.

The other nodded gravely. "But it will be a while before their minds can recover."

Trevor nodded grimly. "For any of us to recover."

The image switched again. This time, the image surprised the man.

Gillick ran, as if trying to escape the ghosts of his past. And, truthfully, he was. His thoughts echoed throughout the cave:

I walk alone.

The man stepped back from the sphere. The images within its depths flickered out. He gave a heavy sigh, looking up to the ceiling. "The truth is hard to swallow when it's not what you want to hear," he whispered. He lowered his head. "So many paths are being crossed…how long before their hearts connect?"

There was very little he knew for sure at the moment. However, what he did know was that the journey had only just begun.

There's the end of chapter five. Review, please?