Chapter 5

Silent as the Earth

Four weeks.

For four weeks, Roxas had been quiet around Xemnas. Contained. Obedient. Like a child waiting to be punished.

Not that day.

"I want answers," he growled, hands curled into fists. "I'm waiting.

Xemnas met his gaze, and it seemed to the boy that his golden eyes were so much more sinister than he could ever remember them being. Still, it wasn't enough to make Roxas back down. He had been living in a house for whatever that was for the past month. He had the right to know what it was.

"What you saw in the basement," began Xemnas, his speech an agonizing drone, "was a monster."

"A monster?" echoed Roxas, dubious. Now knowing for certain that Xemnas was capable of falsehood, it was difficult to swallow something as unrealistic and juvenile as a monster in the basement. It sounded like the sort of story his mother might have told him when he was five.

"Yes," said Xemnas, his words firm to defy Roxas' scrutiny. "An inhuman being. The beast you met in that basement is an immortal, wild, and senseless creature. Its only instinct is to burn anything and anyone it might encounter, its only drive to consume the world in its fire. It was my wish that you never encounter it, thus I resolved to keep its existence unknown. I might have succeeded, would that you had not disobeyed the few orders I gave to you."

"So why not just tell me?" demanded Roxas. "If it's so dangerous, then why didn't you warn me?"

"Would you have believed my words?" asked Xemnas. "Would you have not sought it out with the intent to ascertain the creature's existence with your own eyes?"

"I..." Roxas averted his gaze, his hands clenching ever tighter, driving his fingernails into his palms. He wasn't sure what he would have done. "Maybe, but at least I would have gone in knowing what I was up against. I wouldn't have gone down there thinking about nothing but how mad I was that you lied to me."

"I have my doubts," said Xemnas. "Regardless, even if that were true, the existence of that creature is something that should remain unknown. For hundreds of years, my family has guarded this beast, keeping it as far from the innocent as possibly. Not only the creature itself, but even rumors of its existence." He gazed down at the table in front of him, his fingers interlaced atop it. "Of course, monsters are difficult to contain. Thus, the creature has escaped on occasion, and each time upon escaping, it has run amok, setting the forest ablaze, sending its flames to the heavens. Surely you must have noticed. Even from your village, the fire should have been unmistakable."

"Wait..." Roxas narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, his gaze dropping to the floor. "The pillars of fire? They come from that thing?" The idea was surreal. After all of the rumors that floated around his village of the wrath of gods, the omens of death... All those cautionary tales told to children to keep them from wandering into the woods... All this time, the fire was brought about by a creature locked away in a wealthy hermit's basement? It was beguiling, but at the same time, it made sense. More than any of those rumors, anyway. After all, he'd seen the creature's fire conjured right in front of him, felt it with his hands. Even now, there was a superficial burn that reddened his skin and sent a jolt through his knuckles with every slightest motion of his fingers. That fire had easily filled the whole room in seconds; was it impossible to imagine it stretching up into the sky?

"Indeed," continued Xemnas with a sagely nod. "The fire does serve a purpose. It seems to frighten those who see it just enough to draw them far away from the danger at its source. Of course, should the villagers know the true reason behind the flames, they would no doubt underestimate the strength of the beast and attempt to end its reign of terror by facing the monster outright, and I fear the massacre effected by such a misguided attempt." He closed his eyes. "One cannot change the past, nor erase one's memories; therefore, there is nothing that can be done about your experience this afternoon." When his eyes opened again, they were narrowed dangerously. "However, for the sake of your own safety, the rule I set earlier remains in place. You are not to approach the basement door a second time. Is that clear?"

Roxas clenched his teeth. He did believe Xemnas, but only to a fault. Somehow, he knew that whatever the reason was that the basement was off-limits, it had nothing to do with his safety.

More secrets. That's all it was.

"Crystal." Roxas turned around and walked toward the library door, slamming it behind him as he reentered the foyer. He needed to hear Xion's side of the story. Immediately.

And she had better have prepared the truth.

Olympus was not quite Vexen's element. It was much, much too warm for him, and he was not a fan of sweating. Still, he couldn't help but experience some amount of vicarious joy through wayching the Corazza boy's silent awe in everything that they passed.

Yes, the Corazza boy. Much to Vexen's displeasure, Geppetto had been right; not only did Corazza not speak his language, but he didn't speak at all, which was frustrating to say the least. They were able to communicate in other ways—not writing, unfortunately; it seemed that though the child's first language was Italian, he wrote in a strange alphabet completely unfamiliar to Vexen—but none of the ways in which they could communicate had ever lended a use to Vexen when it came to learning Corazza's Christened name. It still evaded him, after all this time.

Still, at least they could gesture to each other, and the child did answer to the name Corazza, so correspondence was possible to a fault.

There were times, of course, when Vexen wished that a more sophisticated manner of communication were available between them, if only so that he could teach the boy about the statues he stared at, the plants he inspected, the figures on the pottery they perused, or the purposes of the temples that they passed, but for now, he supposed he could settle for calling his surname when he lingered in any one place for too long.

"Corazza!" Vexen turned and marched to where his ward had strayed. "Child, what has come over you? What on Earth could you have possibly gotten into?" He rested his hand on the boy's shoulder and followed his gaze to the wares at the merchant's stall. Immediately, he realized what had managed to get Corazza so distracted.

"What is the book you have there?" Vexen asked the merchant, trying Latin first.

The man at the stall looked to Vexen, then to the book. "It's a journal," he said. "Just a bound book with some blank pages. Nothing of much value, unless you can write. I'll give it to you for a florin."

"Then you have a sale," said Vexen, reaching into his coin purse for the payment. He couldn't help the quirk at the corner of his mouth when he saw the Corazza boy's wide eyes follow the exchange.

When Vexen had the book in his possession, he began turning it over in his hand, the other holding onto the child's. This so-called journal was almost an exact replica of the book that the boy already owned and cherished, save for the color. This one, unlike the golden one that the boy carried, was black with a silver leaf border around the edges.

Once they had distanced themselves from the busy market square, Vexen kneeled in front of the child and held out the book for him to take.

"Consider this a gift," said Vexen softly, more for his own benefit than the child's. "I couldn't possible ignore such a passionate desire to expand the mind. Go on."

The boy stared at the book for a long moment before tucking his golden volume under an arm and taking the new book in his hands. He tried to open it, but nearly dropped the first book in the attempt.

Vexen smiled and dropped his rucksack from his shoulder. "It's all right," he said, opening it. "I wouldn't steal from you. I promise."

The child stared at the rucksack for what must have been a full minute before he slowly, cautiously, took his golden book out from under his arm and set it inside.

Vexen closed the rucksack with a proud smile. That was quite the act of trust for that boy to allow him his most prized possession. To Vexen, the fact that he'd made that decision meant more than words could say.

The rest of the afternoon was spent underneath the shade of a fruit tree, the two of them reading in silence, the only interruption being when Vexen lifted his gaze to catch a glimpse of the child's tiny, calm smile as he read words that Vexen could only imagine.

One day, perhaps once they'd managed to learn a shared language, Vexen would learn the mystery of these blank books, but until then, it was nice just to see his small companion truly happy for even a brief moment, knowing that that happiness came about as a result of his actions.

Vexen had never considered himself particularly paternal, but perhaps, for this strange, stoic, sensible child, he could learn to be a father.

When Xion appeared at Roxas' door that night, as she always did, Roxas wasted no time. The second he opened the door, he pounced. He would regret his behavior later, there was no doubt about that, but for the moment, he wasn't in the mood to exchange pleasantries. He needed to know.

"I went," he snapped. "And when I got to the bottom, I almost got turned into a pile of ash. What gives, Xion?"

"Axel attacked you?" Xion's eyes widened. "But... That doesn't sound like him at all. He's so gentle. He would never—"

"Axel?" demanded Roxas. "That was Axel? You're friends with a monster?"

"Don't call him that!" screamed Xion, sending Roxas reeling. He'd never seen her so angry. Or angry at all, for that matter. "He's not a monster! How can you say that?!"

Roxas hesitated, the internal flame he'd been fanning all day subdued to a few burning embers in the wake of Xion's outburst. "Xemnas said—"

"And you still believe him?" pleaded Xion. "After everything?

Roxas' gaze flickered away and back. It was difficult to hold such an emotional gaze. "Well, he... I mean... The fire... That's not something people can do."

"So you believe in monsters that make fire, but not people?" snapped Xion. "Is that really any more likely, Roxas? Please. Just think about it. Just for a second."

Roxas stared deeply into Xion's fierce, blue eyes for a long, slow moment before taking a deep breath and deciding, again, that he had no real reason not to trust her. He closed his eyes, blocking everything out and forcing himself to concentrate. He thought about everything that Xemnas had told him, that the being kept below the house was a monster that his family had guarded for generations. The great fires had indeed been around for generations, and if it was indeed Axel who created those fires-and Roxas was inclined to believe that much; it made more sense than any of the theories from his village-then that was too long for any normal person to live.

Of course, then again, normal people couldn't exactly pull fire out of thin air, either. If Roxas was willing to accept the possibility that what he had seen down there was indeed human, he couldn't compare who or what that being was to "normal people".

And then he remembered.

That hissing sound... It had seemed so familiar, and Roxas had just remembered why. It wasn't an animalistic hiss, the kind he'd expect from a cat or a snake. It sounded uncontrollable, involuntary. It was exactly the sound he'd heard every night from Sora for weeks before he left, when he was feverish and freezing and could not stop shaking regardless of how many blankets he wrapped around himself.

That was the sound of someone shivering.

It was such a human sound. Roxas had seen animals shudder in the cold, of course, but it was never vocalized.

Could a monster have really made a sound like that?

Roxas opened his eyes, and he met Xion's steady gaze. "I believe you," he admitted. "I mean...I think I do. But... But if that really was a person down there..." Roxas shook his head. "I... I think I heard chains while I was down there, but if I really did, then... Then your friend's chained up in that dark basement by himself."

Xion wrapped her arms around herself. She looked as if some kind of physical pain was toiling away at her from the inside, as if she was going to be sick. "That's right," she said quietly. "I... I hate him. Xemnas. I hate everything he's done. I told you, Roxas... He's not a good person."

"But why?" demanded Roxas. "Why does he need to keep a person trapped down there?"

"I..." Xion closed her eyes. Her arms tightened around her. "I don't think I should be the one to tell you that."

Roxas watched her. He watched the way she held herself, the ache that her body language professed. She just seemed so sad, and that sadness was contagious. It felt to Roxas as though ice was building up inside of him, squeezing, and just when it felt like his heart was going to burst, Roxas decided he couldn't stand it anymore. He pushed past Xion and reached for his bedroom door.

"Fine," he said. "If you can't tell me, I'll have to ask Axel."

"Wait!" Xion reached for Roxas' free hand and gripped it between both of her own. "You already got in trouble with Xemnas once, didn't you? If he catches you again, then—"

"I don't care," countered Roxas. "I hate not knowing what's going on. I have to find out, and then, when I do, I'm going to put a stop to it. I don't care what Xemnas does to me. I'll help you and Axel both, even if it kills me."

Xion's hands slowly slackened around Roxas'. When he turned around, he saw that she wore a small, almost sad smile.

"Well... Okay," she said. "But you can't help us if you get caught." She released Roxas' hand altogether to unzip her coat, revealing a thin, black shirt that only covered her shoulders, a pair of ebony trousers, and two black boots tall enough to touch her knees. Xion folded her coat over her left arm and held it out for Roxas to take. "Put your hood up," she instructed. "He'll just think it's me."

Roxas reached for the coat and felt the leather under his thumb. A grateful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Thank you," he said softly, and quickly slipped the coat on over the clothes he was already wearing. Once he'd covered his face with the hood as instructed, he looked down at himself. Immediately, he was struck with a problem.

"You can still tell it's me," said Roxas. "I'm not wearing gloves, and my shoes are the wrong color."

"Yeah," replied Xion, "but it's dark enough, even above the basement. He shouldn't notice. Just don't stick around long enough for Xemnas to notice the details."

Roxas nodded brusquely and pulled Xion's body into his arms. She was just as cold as he remembered her being the last time they'd hugged, but now wasn't the time for such observations. There were more important things to be said.

"Thank you, Xion. You're the best friend I could ever ask for."

The girl pulled back, holding onto Roxas' shoulders with a smile on her face. "I don't know," she said softly. "You haven't met Axel yet."

Roxas pulled Xion's hands down from his shoulders and gave them a last gentle squeeze. "I'm looking forward to it," he said.

When he left the room, it was as a man on a mission.

He wished he could have said that it was the sound of splintering wood that woke him.

"Vexen..."

Or at least the smell of smoke that had done it."

"Su sveglia!"

Or even the excruciating heat. Perhaps then he would not have felt so dependent on such a small child.

"Vexen, destati!"

But that was not the case.

Vexen woke up to the sound of a voice he had never heard before, despite having known the voice's owner for months by this point. He blinked blearily, squinting at the silhouette, at the blue eyes flickering in the firelight. Blue eyes wide with worry, with fear. Tiny hands shaking his shoulders. The orange lick of flames roaring in his peripheral.

The reality of their situation hit Vexen all at once. He shot upright, his heart pounding in his ears. The inn had become an inferno, and he hadn't even noticed, not until the child he kept had resorted to breaking his silence for the sake of his life. Now that he had noticed, his self-control had slackened, and ice slowly claimed his surroundings, clinging to the blankets and the walls, only to be melted by the heat seconds later.

Vexen, thinking quickly, rushed to the opposite side of the room. The far wall was almost completely consumed in fire, but his rucksack had managed to be unharmed, save for a few scorch marks. Vexen winced at the heat, but managed to ignore it long enough to grab his belongings and sling them over his shoulder.

When he returned to his ward, the child clenched fistfuls of his under tunic, abnormally clingy in the urgent situation. It was all Vexen could do to try to soothe the boy, to keep him from panicking, by keeping a hand on his head.

The bedroom door opened without incident, but one glance down the stairs showed Vexen that exiting the building itself was not going to be as easy. The smoke was so thick that he could hardly see the walls, and the fire ate away at anything it touched. Ashes fell from overhead, hinting that the structure was weakening.

Now, Vexen supposed, was a good a time as any.

He released the child's head, just for a moment, to free his hands, and thrust both forward, forming a tunnel of thick ice almost effortlessly, one that led them straight to the door. The child held tighter to his leg as he scattered snow on the floor of the tunnel for traction.

Vexen dropped his hands, satisfied with their escape route, and bent low to take the child into his arms. He was not a strong man, not by any means, but he did manage to hold the child close to his chest and carry him all of the way out of the house and into safety.

They moved away from the inn as quickly as they could to where the other escapees had gathered and they dropped to the dew-coated grass, both coughing to dispel the smoke from their lungs.

"A-Are you all right?" asked Vexen, forgetting, for a moment, that the child could not understand him.

The boy looked at him, still coughing into his arm, and sat up on his knees, proving that he was healthy enough to do at least that. His coughs were settling as well, slowly becoming more manageable.

Vexen shook his head. "That marks the second time you've saved my life," he said softly and leaned back, dropping the rucksack from his shoulder.

The child crawled forward and, in a show of affection that was rare for him, wrapped his arms tight around Vexen's chest and buried his face in the fabric of his under tunic.

"Shh," whispered Vexen, wrapping his arms around the boy and petting his hair, veiling his surprise at the unexpected gesture. "It's all right... We're safe now, Child."

"I libri..." whimpered the boy, shaking his head, audibly choking back tears. "I-I libri...non erano cosi importanti..."

Vexen managed to glean, from the languages that he could speak and their similarities to Italian, that the child had said something to do with "books" and "not important". It took him longer than he wanted to admit to understand.

"Ah," whispered Vexen. "Of course... That was how your parents died, wasn't it?" He shook his head and gently rubbed his ward's back. "Don't be afraid," he whispered. "I am perfectly fine, and so are you. My decision to waste time by saving the books held no consequences. There is nothing to fear."

The child gave no sign that he understood, but then, Vexen hadn't expected him to.

"It is nice to finally hear you speak," he said softly, "even if the circumstances surrounding the event are less than favorable. I don't suppose this means I finally get to learn your name, do I?"

The child stayed silent.

Vexen sighed and returned to rubbing circles into the boy's back. He supposed he could wait a little longer.

The forest green door now was just as intimidating as it had been then, if not more so, but this time, Roxas didn't waste any time with a staring contest. He didn't have any time to waste. He pushed through, closing the door behind himself, and, for the second time that day, Roxas descended into the dark basement. He took every step with care this time, making sure that he didn't make the same mistake that he had before, and he made a point of counting the steps in case of future visits.

Of which, if he took what Xion said to be true, there would be many.

Twenty-six, twenty-seven... The same sounds he'd heard before rose through the stairwell. This time, however, he knew what they were, and knowing broke his heart. That shivering... It was so cold in the basement. The chill even slithered up the sleeves of Xion's coat, making the hair on his arms stand on end. The very idea of staying in such a cold room every single winter since the fires began... Roxas' stomach churned at the thought.

Twenty-eight, twenty-nine... His steps slowed. He knew he was approaching the bottom.

Thirty, thirty-o—

No, just thirty. That had been the final step.

Roxas stood in place, his arms wrapped tight around his middle to ward against the cold. The cold...and the pain. Standing here, mere meters away from the sound of the shivering... It hurt. It was on par with the way Roxas felt when he saw Sora cry. He felt like the pain had somehow seeped into him and become his own. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. Just imagining what Axel must have gone through was almost more than he could bear.

But that was part of why he was here, wasn't it? To make things more bearable.

Roxas took a deep breath to steel himself and began to walk toward the sound of the shivering.

When the sound stopped, however, so did he.

Again, the room filled with firelight, but not like it had before. The glow was not brilliant, like a house fire, but faint, like a lantern. It spread outward from a tiny flame that had sparked to life from where the shivering had been coming from only moments before. Roxas' eyes were drawn to it immediately; the flickering lumescence would have been impossible to miss in a room so dark.

The tiny fire floated like a will-o-the-wisp above the bare hand of its conjurer. The wrist connected to that hand was thin, bony, and disappeared past a set of manacles and into a black, leather sleeve. Roxas' eyes followed the sleeve like a track, allowing it to guide his gaze over a pointy elbow, a set of broad shoulders, and up a strong neck to a face that Roxas would never have been able to call monstrous.

The man's hair, of course, caught his attention almost immediately. It would have caught anyone's; unless it was a trick of the light, his hair appeared to be red. Not ginger, but a brilliant crimson that flared out behind him as if it belonged to a wary cat.

Then there were the markings.

Underneath each of the man's eyes was an inverted teardrop shape that seemed to be there solely to draw attention to what was above them. They weren't like anything Roxas had ever seen. Still, it took more than a couple of strange markings for a person to be called a monster.

And even if Roxas had any doubt in Axel's humanity left to eradicate, the next feature he noticed would have done it easily.

Axel's eyes were sharp, narrow, and exotic. They tilted up at the outer corners with a twist that might have appeared almost feminine on anyone else, but somehow, on Axel, it just seemed charming, almost seductive. The bottle-green gleeds that were his irises—the ones he recognized as being the same eyes he'd seen through the fire before—perfectly complimented his scarlet hair, even through the light pollution of the flames, and the color wasn't the only contrast. Though Axel's hair was sharp and stiff like a battalion of blood-stained blades, his eyes were soft. Gentle. Roxas immediately understood what Xion meant; there was no malice in those eyes. There was certainly some sort of fire hidden in them somewhere, but it was hidden under layer upon layer of melancholy and apathy and veiled kindness. Still, there was definitely a spark. Roxas could feel it ignite something in his chest, crackling down his arms and across his knuckles like a sort of positive panic. Something like frisson.

"You're not Xion," said Axel, his voice warm and smooth like freshly brewed tea, comforting despite the threatening tone. He climbed to his feet, and the strength of his flame rose with him. "You have five seconds to convince me I can trust you. Four—"

"I'm a friend of Xion's!" said Roxas, hastily tugging down his hood to make himself seem less dangerous. He had no idea what Axel had planned for the fire that had started to swirl in his hand, and he had no desire to find out.

"Xion doesn't make friends," was Axel's rebuttal. "Three—"

"What about you?" asked Roxas, frantically searching for anything that would, if nothing else, buy him time. "You're Xion's friend, aren't you?"

"Xion and I met a long time ago," said Axel. "She's not the same person she was then. Two..."

Roxas looked around the room in a panic, as if something inside of it held the answer he was looking for.

"One..."

That's it! The room didn't hold the answer; his belt did! At the last second, Roxas unzipped his coat and reached into the pocket at his belt. He wrapped his fingers around something with sharp edges that bit into his skin and yanked it free from the leather pouch. He stretched out his hand and uncurled his fingers, revealing a long, thin seashell, pink at its tip with a gradient to a pearly off-white the closer it got to the base.

This, thankfully, seemed to give Axel pause. He narrowed his eyes, and the flame in his hand shrank back to its original size. "Give it here, Kid."

Resisting the urge to grumble about being called a "kid", Roxas strode forward, his hand still open. Once he had grown close enough, Axel snatched the shell from his palm and held it up to inspect it in the firelight.

"This is a Thalassa shell," he said in almost a murmur. "They only come from Destiny Islands." His gaze shifted in Roxas' direction. "Where did you get this?"

"Xion gave it to me," explained Roxas. "About a month ago. Back when we first met."

"She only has a few of these," said Axel. "Vexen gave them to her a long, long time ago. They're precious to her. She wouldn't give them away to just anyone."

"I'm not just anyone," said Roxas. "I'm her friend. I already told you that."

Axel's gaze hardened. "You could have stolen it."

"Why would I steal a seashell?" asked Roxas. "And even if I did, how would I know it was important if I wasn't friends with Xion?"

"Xemnas could have told you," accused Axel, his voice low.

"Don't group me up with him," growled Roxas. "He's a liar. He told me you were a monster."

Axel gave a mirthless chuckle and returned the shell to Roxas' hand, dropping it from a few inches above. "There's no denying he's a liar, but 'monster's' true enough."

"You're friends with Xion." Roxas gripped the shell protectively in his hand, his gaze locked onto Axel's. "There's no way you could be a monster."

"You think so, huh?" asked Axel. "Get her to take her gloves off for you one of these days. Then you'll see the truth for yourself."

Roxas slipped the shell back into his pocket and zipped up his coat. "She still likes you, so if you burned her or something, it had to have been an accident, right?" He glanced at his own hands. Even in the dim light, he could still see the faint pink splotches where Axel's flames had licked his fingers. He lifted his head, tearing his gaze away. "Accidents don't make you a...monster." He paused, concerned for the way Axel's eyes had filled with regret.

"I did that to you, right?" he asked. "Look, Kid—"

"You don't have to apologize," said Roxas, an encouraging smile on his face. "But if you told me why you did it, I'd listen."

Axel sighed and took a step back to lean against the cold, stone wall. He crossed his arms, moving the fire in his hand to a tiny flame on the end of his pointed index finger, as if it were the wick of a candle. It flickered strangely, and after a beat, Roxas realized why that was. Axel might have been able to control it to a fault, but he was still shivering here and there. Roxas curbed the overly-familiar desire to take his coat off and wrap it around Axel's shoulders, if only because he didn't want to put Axel back on the defensive by approaching him unbidden.

"Xemnas only comes down here for two reasons," explained Axel, unaware of Roxas' internal conflict. "He only needs fire from me every few months, so I knew that wasn't it."

Roxas opened his mouth to ask what the other reason would have been, but thought better of it. Again, he had no desire to put Axel on the defensive, and he was sure that prying would do just that. Instead, he decided to ask, "How did you know I wasn't Xion?"

"You don't wear heels," said Axel, uncrossing his arms to point at his temple. "Xion clicks.

Roxas frowned at his own feet. That could mean trouble if Xemnas owned the same attention to detail that Axel had.

"So why are you here, Kid?" asked the man, his arms returning to his chest. "You got a death wish or something?"

"My name is Roxas," the boy countered, annoyed. "And I'm here because I want to help."

"Help?" Axel raised one thin eyebrow. "Are you serious? You look like you can barely help yourself. Anyway, that wasn't what I was asking." He dropped one arm to his side again, the other moving his flame back to his palm, allowing it to grow to lantern size again. "Do yourself a favor, Kid— Sorry," Axel was quick to amend, catching the boy's glare, "'Roxas.' You seem like a nice enough kid, so I'm gonna give you a piece of advice." He narrowed his eyes. "Just get out while you still can. You're not the first person Xemnas decided to 'help', and believe me when I say that none of those stories had happy endings."

"I don't care," insisted Roxas. "I'm not leaving without Xion or you."

Axel laughed tersely. "What are you, some kind of hero?" A violent quiver seized his body, and that was when Roxas couldn't take it anymore. The shaking reminded him too much of Sora.

"How long have you been cold?" he asked.

Axel narrowed his eyes skeptically. "What?"

"I'm asking you when was the last you were warm."

Again, Axel laughed that same unfeeling chortle. "It's been a while."

Roxas moved forward, and Axel backed himself into a corner, scraping his chains across the stone floor. The fire in his hand disappeared, and the room became pitch black. "What're you—"

"I'm Xion's friend, remember?" asked Roxas. "I won't hurt you. Just trust me."

Once he'd grown close enough, Roxas reached through the darkness, seeking Axel's arms. The man flinched under his touch. "Don't worry," he soothed, the same way he might to a frightened child. His hands slid down Axel's arms. When he hit the manacles at the end of the man's sleeves, he let his fingers stroke the cool metal of the manacles, luxuriating in the way it felt against his burned fingertips for just a brief moment before he moved down to Axel's hands and grasped them in his own.

It was a strange sensation. Not only because the only hands he'd touched in the past month were Xion's, which were always covered in gloves, but because of the temperature. It certainly wasn't what Roxas was expecting, that was for sure. Though Axel's fingers were ice cold, his palms were surprisingly warm, almost hot enough to burn.

"Your hands are warm," said Axel, seeming to echo Roxas' thoughts.

"I was going to say the same thing," said the boy. "Are you sure I'm not just making you colder? I mean, that's sort of the opposite of what I want to do, so..."

"Nah," said Axel. Roxas could almost hear the smirk. "You're a hell of a lot warmer than the air. Besides, I give off too much heat. Part of the whole fire gig, you know? You're sort of...helping me keep some of it."

"Oh," Roxas frowned thoughtfully. "Why don't you warm yourself up with your fire?"

Axel chuckled. This time, there was actually some heart in it. "That's like asking why you don't keep your house warm by moving one of the fireplaces outside. It doesn't just come from nowhere, you know."

"So you're really just this cold all the time?"

"It's not that bad in the summer." The tiniest tug on Axel's hands told Roxas that he was shrugging. "It's still kind of cold, though, bein' underground and all."

Roxas' grip tightened. "That's why I want to help you," he said quietly. "If you'd just let me try..."

"What're you gonna do?" asked Axel.

"Well..." Roxas slid his hands toward Axel's wrists. "For starters..."

Before Roxas could continue, one of Axel's hands slipped out of his own and clapped over his mouth. At first, Roxas was merely startled, but that surprise slowly turned to real fear when he noticed another sound mixing in with their nervous breathing.

Footsteps. Soft ones. No heels.

Axel's chains hit him hard in the chest, almost knocking the wind out of him, as he reached out to pull Roxas' hood over his face, not leaving any time for protest. His hands gripped Roxas' shoulders.

"Get out of here," he said in a frantic whisper above Roxas' left shoulder. "Just run past him. If you're fast enough, he'll just think you're Xion."

"But—" Roxas tried to object, just as quiet. If Axel had only attacked him earlier because he thought that Xemnas was going to do something terrible to him, what did it mean now that Xemnas was really coming downstairs? What was going to happen? How could Roxas just leave?

"You're not doing me any favors by staying," growled Axel, as if reading Roxas' thoughts. "Just get going!"

Roxas felt utterly hopeless, but he knew, as much as he wanted to stay, that Axel was right. If Xemnas found out that he was there, that probably wouldn't end well for either of them, so, clenching his teeth, Roxas pulled back and made a break for the stairs. His arm brushed against Xemnas' as he ran, but he didn't let that slow him down. He kept running until he finally escaped into the foyer.

He kept his hood up until he was safely inside his own bedroom again. By the time he tugged it down, tears were already rolling down his cheeks. He braced his back against his closed bedroom door and slid down to the floor, rubbing his face dry.

Xion was right. Axel might have been a little rough around the edges, but he was every bit as sweet and gentle as she'd said. Roxas didn't want to think about what Xemnas might be doing to him. Even after only that brief meeting, the idea of Axel suffering any sort of pain was more than Roxas could bear.