Mira would never forget that night, the night that changed her life. She ran away to the island again; despite the nearly tiresome familiarity, it brought her comfort on nights like these. It was like an extension of her home, a place she'd often visited with her parents when her mother was still with them. Now, it was only she who visited. Or rather, 'escaped' was the more appropriate word for this little excursion.

After another one-sided argument with her father, she'd stormed away from her house, hoping against hope that he would snap out of it and follow her. That her father would do something, anything, to show he cared for her. But he didn't. He never did. He was nothing like the father of her childhood, who joined in on her games and went on her adventures. No, her daddy died with her mother, and all that was left was a broken shell of a man who couldn't stand to look at his only daughter.

Mira sat on the dock, watching the tide roll in, but the soothing movements did nothing for her gloom. The night was balmy, not unusual for the islands, but a cool breeze blew by every so often, refreshing her. She sighed and lazily surveyed her surroundings. A hooded figure in black caught her eye. Hardly anyone ever came to the island so late; the sight of him gave her pause and her heart began to pound. Her gaze darted to the beach; hers was the only boat… How had they gotten there? There was a pull deep in her chest, compelling her to approach – to find out. She had to know.

Perhaps if she had been in a better state of mind, she might have exercised caution. After all, it was dark, she was alone, and not a single person in the world was looking for her. But she wasn't thinking clearly, and Mira crept toward the figure as silently as the crunching sand would allow. They appeared to be male, standing hunched near a bundle wrapped in a white sheet.

"I know you're there," the hooded figure said in a low gravelly voice. Startled, Mira gasped audibly. The figure turned, and though his face was shrouded in darkness, the weight of his gaze rested upon her. She shivered; the cool breeze was no longer refreshing.

"Who are you?" she asked, still more curious than afraid. "What are you doing on this island?"

"Why aren't you tucked away at home in your bed, girl?" His voice was rough, as if he had a constant sore throat and never took care of it.

She scowled, crossing her arms in stony silence. The figure beckoned her forward, and like a fool, she followed, heedless of the potential danger. Mira drew closer and his face came into view; he was older, perhaps a little more so than her father. "Who are you?" she asked again.

He smirked. "I am a seeker of knowledge. Someone who questions the boundaries of what is, and what could be."

"And all that brought you here?" Mira asked sullenly. As he opened his mouth to reply, a light flashed from the bundle – no, it was a person! He was holding what appeared to be a large... key? She stepped closer. "What the-?" The boy looked to be only a little younger than she, but he was unconscious. "Is he okay? What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing, it seems. He will be fine. Why don't you go on home, girl."

Mira narrowed her eyes, adopting a stance she hoped was assertive. "No. I was here for hours before you showed up. You leave."

"All the more reason for you to return home."

"I'm never going back," she mumbled. Louder, she asked, "You said you were a seeker of knowledge, but what could you possibly hope to learn in a place like this?"

He appraised her for a long moment, as if weighing something in his mind. "Before I answer your question, you must answer one of mine." Mira nodded, and he pointed to the key still held aloft in the sleeping boy's hand. "Do you know what that is?"

"A key?" she replied lamely, and disappointment overtook his features. Of course, it was a key, why else would he ask the obvious? Was he blind? No, that wasn't it, he was clearly looking at her. She glanced at the key again. If anything, it could be an effective bludgeon but, somehow, that didn't seem like the type of answer he was looking for either. "Does that key unlock something?"

He smirked. "Is that your question?" A million others ran through her mind. Where was he from? What was he doing there? Who was that boy? But the curiously large key seemed more important, somehow. She nodded. "Come over here. I shall perform a little test, first." The old man was full of conditions. Mira stepped where he indicated, standing next to the boy. "Now," there was a flash of light, and he had his own version of a key, "take it."

It was ominous and dark, full of jagged edges, smooth curves, and a bright blue eye. Unable to hide her confusion, she did as he instructed; it was heavy in her hands. Mira stared deeply into the eye, almost expecting it to blink. She shivered when it glowed.

"So, you are worthy. Hm..." He stroked his beard in contemplation, mumbling, "Such potential should not be wasted…" Golden eyes met hers. "These islands have always been stifling to those with adventurous hearts." He held his hand out to her, beckoning, "If you want more than this tiny world has to offer, come with me and I shall teach you the ways of the keyblade."

The prospect, not necessarily of more, but rather of something different was enticing. No more isolation. No more apathy. Maybe she had a future out there, away from this place. She looked back where her house stood and exhaled softly. The choice was all-but made; there was nothing left for her here. She took his hand, knowing that nothing would ever be the same again, and stepped through the dark.

The boy in the sheet hadn't regained consciousness until a week after she had left the islands. But consciousness didn't mean he was well. While he was technically awake, he rarely spoke more than halting sentences and tended to be unresponsive for most of the day. It took patient coaxing, but Mira got him to tell her his name. Ventus. And after a few tries, he remembered hers as well. That had to be a good sign.

The first thing her new teacher, or master as he referred to himself, told her to do after Ventus woke up was to watch over the boy while he attended some business. What that business was, she knew not, but at least she wasn't alone in her teacher's home. She could hardly believe that she would be in his care from now on. Mira wasn't sure what surprised her more, that she was living in another world or that she willingly left to live with this stranger.

Before he left, he said, "I expect you to bring forth your own keyblade by the time I return."

She gaped at him. "But how am I gonna do that? You haven't taught me anything-"

"I don't have time to squander on explaining something to you, when you can research it yourself," he rumbled lowly, smirking all the while. "You have all the tools you need to be successful, right at your fingertips."

"How long will I have?" Mira asked pensively, worrying her lip between her teeth. What if she couldn't do it? Would he send her back? Abandon her somewhere?

"At least one full day." He summoned a portal. "Study hard, girl." He'd been gruff, but something in her was equal parts eager for validation and terrified of failing in the task he set for her. Mira got to work immediately. He'd given her leave to read in his library, but there was so much knowledge to sift through that it was a daunting prospect, to say the least.

When Mira wasn't buried in books, she tried conversing with Ventus, though doing so yielded little more than short phrases from him and frustration from her. Evidently, he couldn't remember anything about himself other than his name, and he didn't have any drive to try remembering. He was like a blank slate, and when her mind was exhausted from studying, she imagined different scenarios that might have led to his current state. Most of her imaginings involved a head wound of some sort, but her wilder fantasies involved aliens and abductions. It amused her, temporarily, even if they were highly unlikely.

After three days of intense study, Mira was ready to pull her hair out and scream. Frazzled, she did the latter, slamming her fists on the library desk, and kicking the leg, resulting in a yelp of pain.

"Mira?" It was Ventus, shuffling into the library.

"Hm?" She acknowledged him without looking up from her latest misfortune.

"What's…wrong?"

Determining that she'd live, Mira sighed heavily, slumping in her chair. "I'm running out of time… and my toe hurts."

"Time?"

"Yes – time!" she snapped. "I'm no closer to summoning the keyblade and if I can't he might -" she stopped short, eyeing him. He wore the same placid, lost expression, but a flicker of distress crossed his face; the smallest downturn of his lips and indentation in his brow. She cringed at her callousness; he didn't deserve to bear her frustration. "Sorry, I shouldn't have raised my voice."

"It's o…kay."

Wringing her hands, she patted his shoulder, looking into his deep blue eyes. They seemed to hold the ocean of her home. If only she'd been born with blue eyes rather than the grey ones she inherited from her father. He smiled at her. She'd never seen him smile before, and it warmed her heart seeing his progress. If only she'd have some.

Mira paced around the room and Ventus watched from his seat. The setting sun filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow over the library, but she couldn't enjoy the evening. Why couldn't she find anything helpful? While there were all sorts of fascinating information about keyblades and their abilities, and even some vague history on a war wherein tons of wielders fought and died, there was absolutely nothing on the act of summoning one. What was she missing? The closest she came to that information was a book that said the power of a keyblade was determined by the strength of the bearer's heart. It was as if the act was meant to be instinctive. Like someone could do it in their sleep… She glanced at Ventus, eyes wild and excited.

"Ventus! C'mere!" He stood slowly, approaching her with caution. "Summon the keyblade!"

"Key…blade…" He closed his eyes and she waited. And waited. And then the oversized key flashed into his hand. But how did he do it? She asked him as much, and he replied, "It's… mine. Part of… me."

"Part of you?" She furrowed her brow. If that was all it took… just believing that you can and knowing what is yours… what did she have to lose? Mira closed her eyes and swung her hand as if holding a sword; if this didn't work, she'd feel like an idiot.

Nothing happened.

She glared at her empty hand, unable to believe the audacity. She believed and she had been determined worthy, so why wasn't it working? A tear slipped down her cheek, and she scowled, wiping it away roughly. She couldn't afford to fail! With a flash of light, a weight rested in her hand, comfortable and perfect. The clink of metal. Grey eyes widened in incredulity.

Her keyblade.

Finally. Progress at last.

Her master didn't say much when he returned, only ordering her to present her keyblade and nothing else. She'd had a few more days to practice since the time in the library, and it got easier with each successful summoning, though there was occasionally a lag – as if it was deciding whether to appear or not. Mira did as instructed and gave it to him. With her keyblade in hand, he turned it this way and that, scrutinizing every inch of it. Then he turned his golden eyes on her, gaze unwavering.

"Did I... do something wrong, master?"

He blinked, slowly coming back to himself. "No. You have achieved what I asked. Well done." The praise rushed over her like warm water, and she nearly whooped for joy. However, her elation was short-lived. "Prepare to leave; we are making a small journey before we begin your training."

Once she gathered Ventus, who she'd started calling "Ven," they set off through a dark corridor. The corridors allowed them to travel great distances in very little time. At least, it seemed like they weren't in them for very long; she didn't know for sure. They stepped out into a courtyard illuminated by the setting sun; beyond, there was a castle and a glorious waterfall. All of it was undeniably beautiful and bright. The way the light filtered through the spaces between the castle cast an almost fairytale-like glow about everything; yet, despite the surrounding beauty, it was surreal, like seeing an illusion. It was too beautiful, too lovely.

As the pair drew closer to the castle, she noted its peculiar foundation; much of the support came from chains connecting the castle to the land. In fact, the only place where the structure was directly connected to the ground was at the top of the stairs they were currently ascending. She certainly hoped that it was more secure than it looked; she was almost tempted to turn around and leave this deathtrap behind. Not that she had anywhere else to go.

Noticing her hesitation, her master beckoned her forward. "Come." She followed. Before they entered the castle, he murmured quietly, "While you are here, you will remain silent on the topic of your apprenticeship to me. Mention nothing about the boy or where he came from. Do I make myself clear?"

His tone held an underlying warning that spelled trouble if she disobeyed. "Yes, master," she uttered softly. Why the secrecy, though? Were the people here untrustworthy?

Satisfied, he continued, "Eraqus has two other apprentices training to be keyblade masters. Try learning something from them, if you can." She bobbed her head, frowning at the floor. Wasn't it his job to teach her? So far, he'd given her instructions and told her to figure things out on her own. Some teacher he was.

A scarred man with dark hair in a ponytail greeted them at the door with a smile, inviting them inside. "Xehanort! My old friend, what brings you here?" Her master followed the man, whom she assumed was Eraqus, leaving her and Ven alone in the foyer. The two men spoke in hushed tones as they departed. Mira crossed her arms, tapping her foot impatiently. Were they supposed to stand around and wait?

Once the masters were out of sight, a tall young man, a couple years older than she, rushed down the stairs and greeted them eagerly. "Hi, I'm Terra! Who are you two?"

"Ventus," Ven responded quietly.

"Whew, you can talk." Why would he assume Ven couldn't? He turned to her. "And you?"

She plastered a friendly smile on her face. "I'm Mira, it's nice to-"

"Aqua! C'mere!" Terra interrupted, calling to someone behind his shoulder. Mira's scowl resurfaced with a vengeance.

A young woman, also older than she, rushed down the same set of stairs from which Terra had come. "Hi! I'm Aqua, it's a pleasure to meet you!" Her exuberance was as bright as her short blue hair.

"Terra…. Aqua…" Ventus sounded out their names. "Mira." They shared a small smile, though it didn't last long when she glanced at the other two apprentices again. Their timing was suspect at best. Mira looked around surreptitiously while they tried engaging Ven in conversation. How had they known exactly when both masters left? She raised her brows when she saw the balcony overlooking the foyer. They were rude and had been spying.

Oblivious to her preoccupation, Terra asked rapid fire questions. "So, are you here to train with us? Where are you from? Who was that man with you?" He asked each question so quickly she didn't have the opportunity to respond even if she wanted to. Her master didn't need to tell her to keep quiet; they weren't giving her a chance to say anything at all. She disliked them already.

Ventus buckled, falling to the floor and crying out, startling Mira out of her thoughts. What was wrong with him? He'd never had an outburst like this before. Mira kneeled at his side and attempted to soothe him, but he thrashed violently, jerking out of her grip. "Ven, it's okay. What's wrong?" she whispered. He fell silent and lost consciousness.

"What did you do?!" Eraqus exclaimed, rushing into the room, her master following closely behind. Xehanort knelt beside her.

"Nothing! I just asked him some stuff!" Terra exclaimed, voice taking on a panicked edge. "He just started-"

"Ventus cannot tell you anything, because he cannot remember anything," Eraqus chided. "You'll need to keep that in mind as he will be training with you two from now on."

Mira stared at her master wide-eyed. "What?"

"Ventus is going to stay here, where he will be more easily cared for," Xehanort explained, standing. "Come." She followed; though, not without a last look at Ven, now held by Aqua. Would she ever see him again? A quiet voice in her mind asked if it really mattered. She didn't have an answer.

When they were outside, her master glanced down at her. "What did you learn?"

She wanted to ask him why they were leaving Ven behind so suddenly with these people. She wanted to know who they were, and how they would be able to take care of him better than she. But she asked none of that. Instead, Mira pondered his words. She was starting to catch on to how he taught his 'lessons.' Quietly, she answered, "The walls have ears."

"Explain."

"They were spying on us, probably since we came in." The castle had large windows; they could have seen them arrive too. Were they nosy, or could they not be trusted?

"Very good." He opened a portal and she followed him through. It would be just the two of them, from then on.

Six months of hard training passed before he summoned the dark creatures for her to fight. He told her he wouldn't interfere if she lost, and that she could not count on him to coddle her. She believed it. However, Mira wasn't afraid. She was prepared after practicing so much and sparring with him. Aside from a few blips with her keyblade failing to appear when called, she felt ready. Besides, she could always count on her magic if needed. He had said she was uncommonly adept at reflega magic. The praise had made her positively glow at the time. She could do this.

Mira slid into her stance, holding her keyblade the way he taught her, awaiting this latest test. The dark creatures appeared as ink dripping from a portal, before taking shape. She took stock of how many she faced, twelve in all. She waited, as he taught her, for them to make the first move. But nothing happened; they stared at her with their little yellow eyes, unmoving. Watching.

"Master?" she asked, scrunching her brows together in confusion. He'd explained they were violent creatures, mindless in their hunger for light. Why wasn't anything happening?

There was no reply. Looking up, she caught sight of his perplexed expression before he masked it. "Come here, girl." She obeyed, standing before him. He held out his hand for several minutes, staring hard at her. Mira shifted under his gaze, stomach churning nervously. One of the creatures bravely approached, touching her leg. Its little hand was surprisingly warm; for some reason, she thought a creature borne of darkness would be cold. "Hm... I see." Mira waited for him to elaborate, but in typical fashion, he spoke no more on the matter. Instead, he pointed at them with his keyblade. "Fight them."

She did. And for a while, it was going well. The creatures dissipated, melting back into shadow to return to the dark whence they came. And then, mid-swing, her heart lurched and her keyblade disappeared. Mira lost her balance, falling to her knees, and attempted to summon her keyblade again. It didn't come, but the creatures were closing in, no longer placid and mild. Mira supposed it was their instincts reacting to her aggression, rather than the way they normally attacked people on sight. It was strange, but stranger was that her keyblade wasn't responding, no matter what she did. Scrambling to her feet, Mira ran to her master and hid behind him, gripping his coat fearfully.

He glanced behind with furrowed brows. "What are you doing? Fight them."

"I-I can't! My keyblade!" she exclaimed shrilly, peeking around him with wide, panicked eyes – the creatures were waiting. "It disappeared, and I can't bring it back!"

He frowned, pulling her by the scruff of her shirt to stand before him. "Channel your fear and face them. Would you rather die than fight?"

"Of course not!" she yelled, glaring up at him. "But how do I fight them without a keyblade?!" The creatures were closing in, ready to rend her to pieces with their sharp claws. She reflected the closest ones away, throwing them back, but that only served to incense them further, and they raced toward her.

"Foolish girl, summon it!"

Wide-eyed, she screamed, "I can't!" and pulled the keyblade from his grasp just in time to destroy one of the creatures that had leapt toward her. It was heavy in her arms, and she almost couldn't lift it, but the alternative was unthinkable. He would not intervene on her behalf, and she would not go down without a fight. The creature melted into darkness, and she battered the rest of them, heedless of the wounds she received. It wasn't until she stood victorious and alone that she dropped the keyblade, unable to lift it any longer, and it disappeared. Angrily, she stormed up to her master. "I told you," she panted, "my keyblade – it's not – I can't-" but then, as if to taunt her, it appeared in her hand. Mira glowered fiercely at it.

"Well done," he rumbled, expression unreadable.

"I-what?" she stuttered, mouth falling open. Wasn't he angry with her? "But I-"

"You were very resourceful, considering what happened. However," he frowned, "it troubles me that your keyblade failed to appear when called."

She grimaced, turning her gaze to the ground. "Yes Master, I'll try harder..."

"Take heart," he murmured, tipping her chin up. "You triumphed where others have failed. Though your methods were unconventional," he grinned wryly, "you did not allow your setback to hinder you from succeeding in your task. If you hone your skills to mitigate such occurrences – we'll make a seeker out of you yet."

If he wasn't anchoring her to the earth, Mira would have floated away. He was proud of her! She grinned, eyes shining with elation, anger forgotten. "I'll do my best, Master!"

As time passed, Mira's understanding of her master grew until she had a good idea of what to expect from him most of the time. He never tolerated whining or excuses – that was the surest way to incite his displeasure. He enjoyed testing her, as evidenced by the events with the dark creatures, or the way he would randomly ask questions about discussions they'd had, even during meals. One time, out of the blue, he'd asked her what she thought the role of darkness was in the worlds. She had replied that she didn't know. He looked disappointed briefly, then urged her to take a guess.

"I… well, a lot of the texts say that darkness consumes light, and that its bad," she mumbled unsurely.

"I know what the books in my library say. I'm not asking for a regurgitated opinion," Xehanort chided. "I am asking for what you think, Mira." That had been the first time he said her name. Always referring to her as 'girl', or simply issuing directions, hearing her name spoken aloud was strangely meaningful.

"Well…" she paused. What was the purpose of darkness?

"Take your time."

And then there were things like that. He wanted her to think carefully, rather than blurting something out. His interest in what she had to say and what she really thought made that attention-starved little girl within her sing. Or when she broke her arm while sparring, and he was careful about setting it and giving her the correct amount of potion to ensure it healed evenly so that it didn't become weakened. He was invested in her; he cared, and she didn't want to lose that.

"I'd say that darkness, and by extension light, don't really have roles in the worlds." She leaned her elbows on the table. "People are the ones who apply meaning to something. Light and darkness just exist, and we find symbolism in that."

He appraised her with raised brows. "How very nihilistic of you. In that case, what symbolism would you apply to the darkness?" He slurped the soup she'd made for dinner and her eye twitched. He had good manners overall, but he always slurped soup, for whatever reason. So annoying. Ever since she'd arrived and found that he ate whatever was around, Mira had taken to cooking their meals. She'd had to learn anyway, since her mother passed away - otherwise, she would have starved. And while he never acknowledged her self-imposed duty, he was always at the table when food was ready.

Mira laced her fingers together, staring deeply into her soup, watching the chopped vegetables floating. "To me," she began, "light is easy, because there is nothing hiding in it. You can see no matter what, unless it's too bright. But darkness can always hide danger."

"Then you are afraid of what may be hiding in the darkness?" he prompted, watching her in rapt attention.

Mira shook her head. "Not necessarily. All the books say darkness is bad, but that's coming from people who live solely in the light, so I'm not sure how fair an opinion that is." She scratched her head, mussing her half ponytail slightly. "I guess I'd have to experience being in the dark to know. Besides, people need the dark in their lives," she pouted. "How else would we sleep? I can't sleep while it's light."

"Juvenile, but fair," he rumbled, lips twisting into an amused grin. "You're on the right track. Keep in mind that people fear what don't understand. That's why they fear the dark, and it uses that fear to take root and corrupt them."

"But you understand the dark, master?" she asked softly.

He only smiled in reply, and the conversation was over.

Two more years passed before Mira finally mustered the courage to ask him something that had weighed heavily on her heart ever since he took her in. They were in the library reading quietly after a successful training session; her keyblade hadn't disappeared mid-battle and she was feeling more confident in her skills.

Because of that success, she bravely asked, "Master? Can I ask you something?" He looked up quietly from his tome, expecting one of her usual inquiries. She tended to ask him anything that came to mind, and he usually humored her if she'd already tried to find the answer for herself. However, that did not apply in this case because he was the only one with the knowledge. Mira took a fortifying breath. "Why did you make me your apprentice?" She'd tried so hard to be worthy without ever asking why he chose her in the first place, but was time she knew.

"I made you do nothing, Little Star." He leaned back in his chair, facing her. "I presented you a choice."

Her cheeks warmed at the endearment; he had taken to calling her that early on in her apprenticeship. He had never explained why he chose it, but his surprise when he first said it made her suspect that he didn't know why either. She furrowed her brow. "But that's what I mean – why did you offer the choice at all? You could've as easily left me behind, right?"

"I could have," he replied simply.

"Buuuuut…?" she prompted, hoping she wasn't pushing the envelope too much. She only risked it because she was dying to know.

"Why did you accept?" Fate put him in good humor, apparently, but she hated when he did this – answering questions with more questions.

So, she countered with a question of her own, "Why do you keep me around?"

"Why do you stay?" he asked with a smirk.

"Because…" He cared about her. She cared about him. He was both father and teacher to her, and so much more. But she could never say that. Saying it would make it real, and her heart remembered the hurt from her actual father. She didn't want to give him that power. Instead, she replied, "I want to learn."

"So do I." Taking pity on her confusion, he explained, "Your heart has a unique property that I have never encountered."

The answer was clinical and entirely without sentiment. Exactly as she expected from him. She averted her eyes, frowning. "And that property is?" she asked thickly.

"Neither light nor darkness fight for dominance within your heart. You are balanced. Though-" he cut himself off, wearing a pensive frown.

"What? Is there something wrong?" She chewed the inside of her cheek. Mira knew she wasn't without darkness but how could one's heart be shielded? Was that a bad thing?

"As of right now, I don't know," he murmured. "You'll have to wait. We can discuss this further another time."

"Yes master."

But another time never came. It didn't take Mira long to realize that something was changing. It began slowly; her master would go out without her – not entirely uncommon, though he usually took her along in order to teach her something, or just to see new places. She brushed it off initially, figuring that it wasn't a big deal. She was training anyway. Then he started leaving for a couple days at a time. Then a few weeks. All of a sudden, her master spent more and more time away, and she found herself alone more often than she cared to be. The worst part was, he never told her where he went, or when he'd be back. Had she disappointed him in some way? Was her improvement unsatisfactory? Was he angry that her keyblade still disappeared occasionally? She wracked her mind for any reason as to why he would neglect her training. Was something happening in the worlds? Couldn't she help, if that was the case? While she had known something was shifting, she didn't know why, and it was beginning to take its toll.

Therefore, she had been pleasantly surprised and extremely excited when her master told her to prepare to travel. He told her to pack everything from which she didn't want to be parted for an extended time. So eager was she to please that she didn't consider that anything was amiss. For instance, why she would need to pack so much of her stuff.

He opened a portal, and they stepped through. "As I'm sure you've noticed, I have been busy of late. I've neglected your training, and that is regrettable. However, this will have to be an acceptable alternative in the meantime." She was warmed that he acknowledged his inattention and-

Mira opened her eyes to a vaguely familiar world. The Land of Departure remained unchanged since she'd last beheld it nearly four years ago. "Alternative? I don't understand. Why are we here Master?"

"You will remain here for the duration of my business. Eraqus has agreed to continue your training during my absence, and-"

"No!" she exclaimed, shaking her head. "You are my master, why are you leaving me-?"

"Silence Mira." Her mouth snapped shut, traitorous tears filling her eyes. Why was he doing this? "While you're here," he echoed his words from long ago, "try to learn something. Think of it as an opportunity to be challenged by other apprentices."

What was happening? Why would he do this with no warning? She looked down at the grass and whispered, "Will you come back?"

"Yes, foolish girl." He opened a portal. "Now go, they are expecting you."

Mira stared at the spot where he had vanished from sight in disbelief. He left her with the untrustworthy strangers, just like Ventus. The thought of the younger boy comforted her slightly, but halting conversation could only do so much for loneliness. Besides, she hadn't known him for very long anyway. What if he'd forgotten her?

When she finally dragged herself to the castle, a sense of déjà vu rushed over her in the foyer. Nothing about this place had changed. She glared up at the balcony overlooking her, but no one was there. Hadn't her master told anyone she was coming?

"Welcome back, Mira."

She jumped, staring wide-eyed at Eraqus. "O-oh, um, thank you. Sorry to drop in..." she trailed off, staring at the floor.

He waved her off. "No need, Xehanort asked a few weeks ago if I would take over your training for a while." A few weeks? He'd been planning to dump her off this whole time? Eraqus read the displeasure on her face and huffed. "I know this is a change, but I'm sure you'll get along fine here."

"Of course," she mumbled, "but this is temporary, right?"

It was Eraqus's turn to frown. "Indeed. He will be back, though I don't know when, exactly. Do you know what he's up to?"

Master Xehanort had told her long ago not to discuss anything with the people here, but she didn't need to lie or keep secrets this time. She knew nothing. Softly, she answered, "No."

She'd been shown to her room almost immediately after that and was left to her own devices. Mira appraised her new living space, noting its simplicity. It was nice. She took a deep breath and unpacked her belongings. That done, she readied herself for bed, but sleep did not come easily in this unfamiliar place. She already missed the familiarity of her routine with her master, and of belonging somewhere. A few tears leaked from her eyes unbidden, but the only witness to her weakness was she and her pillow.