'Darkness can hide anywhere—even inside someone.'

Content Warning: This chapter contains body horror, implications of suicidal ideation, guilt tripping, and certain characters having their perceptions of reality messed with. If you think those might be triggers for you, skip everything between, "A Union Leader?" and, "It was so dark down here that Skuld couldn't see anything." I'll include a summary of those sections in the author's notes at the bottom of the chapter.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Face Your Fears

Meili didn't particularly like being in Frigga's office. It brought to mind memories of their time as a teenager, constantly getting in trouble with authority figures. They weren't entirely convinced they weren't going to get in trouble now, but it wasn't like they could really turn back. Those kids are putting themselves in more danger than I am. This is the least I can do.

"I'm curious about these rumors," Frigga said, and Meili raised an eyebrow. "Threatening the Union Leaders is a particularly dangerous prospect. I'd be interested in looking into them."

"Why bother?" Meili shrugged, arms folded like they were feeling petulant. "It's better for us if they aren't around."

"It could make things…less strained for some of us, certainly. But their disappearance would cause an uproar—and that's assuming that they didn't survive to enact some sort of revenge."

"You could spin it to your benefit. That's what you're good at, right?" They paused, trying to twist their expression into something bitter. "Personally, I think they have a point. Get enough people behind this plan, and we'd all be better off for it."

Frigga's eyes narrowed, just a little. "Has someone come to you with an offer, Meili?"

They narrowed their eyes back and kept their mouth firmly shut. "Depends. Do you have a better one?"

Frigga laughed, and they wondered what was going through her head; if she thought they were playing into her hands, eager and greedy, or if she could see through their ruse. They didn't think Frigga knew them well enough to see through anything, but—still. "I may," she said. "What would you be interested in?"

That was a strangely open offer, and it felt loaded. Meili didn't actually have to pretend to think about it, this time, because if they wanted to keep up their ruse, they needed to be careful. "I'm guessing I can't actually get you to remove the Union Leader from my team, can I?"

"I could," Frigga said. "She could become my apprentice full-time."

I'm sure she'd be thrilled about that. "You're probably going to make a lot of people mad."

"I can say that she's…trading up."

Which…would be true, technically. Damn it. And that was probably what Frigga wanted, too, so she might push for it. They didn't know if there was a way to get around that one; they'd probably have to let that go and hope Skuld forgave them for it.

Wait. Maybe I can mitigate things. "Moving up isn't restricted to Union Leaders, right?"

Frigga's eyes narrowed. "I thought you were happy about your position as Head of the Exploration Department?"

They were; they didn't particularly want to leave it. But if it meant they were in a better position to help, they'd take it. Damn it. Can't believe I got myself involved in this nonsense… "That's the deal. Take me on as your apprentice. Do what you want with the kid—leave her or take her, whatever. But after everything you lot have put me through, I'd like a little actual respect."

Frigga's expression didn't shift too much, but Meili thought she seemed…not pleased, really, but not necessarily surprised. "Perhaps a compromise," she said. "I'll take on Master Skuld, and you will be allowed more insight into our family's business."

Meili laughed, because despite themself, they had a hard time believing that. "Sure. 'More insight' can be anything from actual family secrets to a couple of tidbits every now and again. You got any assurance things will actually change?"

If they were actually integrated with the rest of the family, though…it'd mean they could actually find out more about what's going on. Kvasir could, too, technically, but he didn't have much of a head for it.

(And there was a tiny part of them, quickly crushed, that still longed for their family's acceptance. They knew they wouldn't get it—not really—but it might be…nice.)

"I'll accept you publicly," Frigga said, and that startled Meili. "You've already been formally acknowledged as part of our family—but we'll make it official. I'll personally make sure you receive invitations to any gatherings and facilitate connections between other members of the family. I'll even give you land, and divulge some of our family secrets. Would that be an agreeable trade."

Meili studied her; if they weren't watching so closely, they might've missed the faint flash of light underneath the desk and the faint, quiet tap against the wood, Frigga hesitating just a moment, like she was…waiting for something.

Is this a trap? Is she planning something with that?

They didn't really have time to wonder. It was probably the best deal they could get, and would at least partially position them to help. So long as Frigga really is trying to help the Union Leaders, and isn't just manipulating me to make me think she is. "You're not the only one to make that offer, you know," they said, testing the waters.

"There are few people in the family who have the same power as the Head of the Council," Frigga said, but there was a sharp edge to her smile. "But very well. In addition to that, I will…let you have the privilege of training with me, twice a week. Though you must still do your job as the Head of Exploration."

Don't keep pushing. It'll let you check in on Skuld a little easier, at least. They nodded, slowly, and Frigga smiled. "Alright. What do you want to know?"

"Anything you can tell me. In particular: who contacted you?"

"Aegir."

Frigga's expression shifted slightly, and Meili wondered again if she knew.

They kept going like they hadn't noticed. "He said he was looking for people to help him against the Union Leaders. Guess he was desperate if he was coming to me—but he offered to support me as his right hand."

Frigga's eyes narrowed. "That certainly seems…unusual."

Shit. "Besides you, I'm the only one who really has close contact with one of the Union Leaders. He wanted me to spy on them and report back so he could make plans."

Frigga studied him through narrowed eyes; she didn't say anything, but she nodded at them to continue.

"He said he had people who could potentially get rid of the Union Leaders—not that he actually mentioned who they were. He'd captured one of their friends, apparently, to try and lure them away."

They could almost see Frigga's mind turning, like she was trying to put the pieces together. "Interesting. Did he by any chance say where?"

"Some outer island. Sol, I think." Meili waved their hand. "Not like I got a lot more out of him, beside that. Guess trust only goes so far."

"I…see." Frigga stood. "Thank you, Meili. I will send people to look into these…concerns. We will need to speak again later."

"I don't remember that being part of the deal."

"Well, I did ask for everything you knew about the Union Leaders. And this seems…pressing." Frigga smiled tightly, then left, leaving Meili alone.

Meili released their breath. Well. Shit. That could've gone worse—and with any luck, Frigga might actually do something about Aegir. One less problem to worry about—provided we actually get Mimir back.

…They wondered how the search was going. If they were safe. If they'd found Mimir, and were already on the way back.

Worrying about it isn't going to do anything, they reminded themself. Find something productive to do.

They could just go back to the Exploration Department and keep working. But—they were in Frigga's office. She didn't typically leave this place unlocked, which spoke of an urgency that was unusual for her. If they wanted a chance to find something extra, now was the time.

With a nervous glance towards the door, Meili stood, making their way towards their first target—the other side of the desk. Frigga had been doing something over there, and Meili wanted to know what.

All they saw was a drawer, and they couldn't help a vague flash of disappointment. Is there something inside the drawer? What could possibly be so interesting that she'd consider slipping it out in the middle of our meeting?

Their fingers grasped the edges. The drawer wiggled, then slid open. In her haste, Frigga must've forgotten to relock it. Carefully, carefully, Meili slid it open.

A book sat inside. Its blue cover was worn with age, intricate symbols faded, pages yellowed. Even as old as it was, it was hard to mistake it for anything else, the faint traces of magic brushing their fingertips. Carefully, carefully, they lifted the Book of Prophecies from the drawer.

One of the most dangerous items their family had in their possession—and this whole time, it'd been sitting in a locked drawer in a desk.

Meili's breath hissed between their teeth. Shit. Alright. That feels way above my paygrade. If I take that, there's no way Frigga won't know who to blame.

…But it was the Book of Prophecies. If there was anything that could help the kids figure out what to do, it was probably this.

Meili worked their jaw, but they only debated with themself for a little while; the moment they'd realized what was in the drawer, they'd decided what they were going to do, after all. They stuck the book inside their bag, careful not to damage it, and hurried out of Frigga's office before she could come back and realize what had happened.

-"What do you think we'll find when we get down there?"

Kvasir's voice broke the eerie silence, ringing a little too loud.

Brain edged carefully onto the next step, testing it to make sure it held under his feet. "Darkness, probably," he answered dryly. The chains rattled, too close to his face, and his eyes traced them as the descended into shadows. "Don't know what else they might be trying to hide down here."

(That wasn't entirely true. There was a conversation ringing with Frigga in the back of his mind—of ruins and a black box, somewhere beneath Scala ad Caelum, and a potential mission to explore them and perhaps find a way to stop Darkness. It felt too close now, circling his skull and making him uneasy.)

Sigurd's hands ran along the chains; they glowed faintly, like they were responding to his touch. "This seems intentional, whatever it is," he murmured. "Though I'm not certain about the chains, exactly."

Kvasir turned to him with a half-hearted grin, just barely visible amidst the darkness. "Maybe they wanted to keep something down here."

"Such as Darkness."

"I suppose. But—but it could be something else. Something more interesting, maybe…"

The conversation drifted, Kvasir and Sigurd pulling further ahead. Skuld, conversely, slowed; her expression had gone tense and pensive, fingers flexing like they were looking for something to grab onto. "Brain—" she started, then broke off; she closed her eyes only briefly, taking an unsteady breath.

"I know—watch that one."

Skuld stepped over the broken bit, carefully testing the next step. "What are we going to do? If it's really—careful, this one's slippery."

Brain hopped over it, and Skuld gave him a look that might've been exasperated if it wasn't still coated in worry. "Guess we'll have to figure that out when we get down there." He shrugged, but it still felt like something was building in his chest, heavy and uncomfortable. "Not like it's still home, anyways. Probably barely recognizable."

"I know. That's—" Another shaky breath. "I don't want to see it."

A startled screech from up ahead had Skuld and Brain scurrying down the steps. Kvasir dangled precariously over the edge; Sigurd had caught the back of his shirt, and was working on dragging him safely back onto the steps. Skuld and Brain moved to help, and Kvasir gave them a sheepish smile.

They fell back into tense silence as they descended further. Kvasir's expression turned slowly towards something nervous and pensive, just visible in flashes through the darkness. Sigurd was stiff, shoulders drawn back. Skuld's face was steely, but her hands shook, and she stuck close to Brain.

Brain…tried not to think about it. It's just another place. We just need to get in, find Mimir, and get out. That's all.

Kvasir made a startled noise. Brain followed his eyes; through the darkness, he could see tall rocky outcrops, packed together dirt and debris stretching skyward, and at first, he wasn't sure what Kvasir was looking at. Then—

A house. Or part of one. Familiar purple shingles stuck out from the earth, barely visible from the flickering light of the chains. There were more, now that he was looking—bits of cobblestones and fractured pieces of buildings, earth twisted at odd angles up the sides, rotted bits of belongings that Brain couldn't identify anymore.

Skuld wasn't looking at them; she stared pointedly ahead, like if she didn't look, it wouldn't be there anymore. Brain, despite himself, couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Guys…" Kvasir started, voice hushed, trailing away like he'd lost the words.

Tap-tap-splash. Brain stumbled a little as the stairs ended, and suddenly he found himself in the ruins of a place once familiar. He was right that it wasn't entirely recognizable; if he tried, he could almost imagine that the ruins were someplace else, and that he didn't vaguely recognize the cobblestones under his feet or catch sight of features that would've once been familiar. He wasn't sure if it was a blessing or not that he couldn't recognize where they'd landed; the houses and features that might've once indicated where they stood were completely destroyed, crushed by the world's end, time, and whatever it had taken to rebuild the world into Scala ad Caelum.

"Is this…?" Sigurd started, wary and worried.

"It's Daybreak Town," Skuld whispered, so hushed that Brain had to strain to hear her.

"And Darkness is…here?" Kvasir asked.

"I…suppose it makes sense," Sigurd murmured. "The stories all say that the world—"

"We know, Sigurd," Brain interrupted dryly.

"I—right. I apologize."

A moment of awkward silence, and then Skuld started forward, muttering, "Of course they wouldn't leave."

The others followed, hurrying to try and keep up with her rapid pace. Brain couldn't entirely blame her; being here felt foreign in an odd way; like he should recognize everything, but the world had changed, twisting into a mockery of his memories. His eyes flicked across a street, broken and dull, and he turned his eyes away.

Brain wasn't sure what this place would've looked like, after the end—but he'd seen reforming worlds before, floating bits of earth slowly collecting around gradually-healing hearts. He wondered if Daybreak Town had been different; it hadn't reformed in the same way that others had, or if it had started to but Ephemer hadn't given it the time to heal, building a new world overhead and burying the old deep beneath the earth, like memories he wanted to leave behind.

There was still water here from the sea; he wondered if there was an opening somewhere else, letting it come up and rush against the cobblestones. It didn't smell like the sea, though; it smelled dead and stale, water dripping dully somewhere in the distance and splashing under his feet.

"Where do we start looking?" Kvasir asked, quieter now. "Or are they…?"

For a moment, Brain thought of Ven; he could almost see a specter of his friend, racing through the streets, Lauriam trying to catch up with him. Brain blinked, and the image was gone. "Darkness can hide anywhere," he answered.

"The Clock Tower," Skuld said, almost simultaneously. She wouldn't look at him. "That's where they were. When everything fell."

"…Oh."

It's where Skuld and Ephemer's friend died, too. The thought hit Brain harder than he expected it to, and he picked up his pace to catch her, nudging her hand. "You don't have to go in."

"I do. If Mimir's in there." But she gave him a grateful look, anyways.

"Mm. Well—guess it's better to do it with others, at least."

She nodded; one hand fidgeted with her armor, like she wanted to activate it—like she wasn't entirely convinced they weren't going to be attacked out of nowhere.

This place felt…haunted. Like if Brain wasn't careful, ghosts would step out of the shadows to accost them. He thought he caught a whisper—barely understood words, hissing through his ears.

(He wondered if the computers were still here. If the data-Daybreak Town was still accessible. If there was any chance that the Dandelions were still alive, or if they'd been lost.

…He wondered what they'd say, if they saw him again.)

Something broke. Skuld jumped back, breath hissing between her teeth, and Brain resisted the urge to summon his Keyblade. He took a steadying breath, squinting through the darkness and hoping he could see…anything, really.

"What was it like?" Sigurd asked, voice hushed. "This place."

Brain shot him a curious look.

"Daybreak Town was only ever a story to me. It is hard sometimes to imagine it as anything more than a fairytale—but here it stands. And you and Master Skuld knew it better than anyone left in Scala."

Skuld didn't answer; something tense entered her expression, and Kvasir flashed her a worried look.

Brain huffed a sardonic sort of laugh. "Not sure I'm the best person to tell you." He shoved his hands into his pockets, tilting his head towards the ceiling so he didn't have to look at the ruins. "Ephemer was probably better at that—not that time was particularly kind to his stories." He lifted a shoulder in half a shrug, but there was a strange, sentimental part of him that wanted someone else to know what this place was like. Someone to remember it, besides just him and Skuld. "It was…bright. Lived up to its name—a lot of colors. These used to be bright orange and yellow." He tapped his feet on the broken cobblestones. "Lot of gardens—community maintained, mostly. A lot of things were like that. Not so bad, for a community run by children."

"Children?"

Brain snorted derisively. "They left that part out? Keyblade wielders were mostly kids back then. Easier to manipulate, probably." Something hot burned in his throat, and he blinked burning eyes, ignoring the whispers of, You were supposed to protect them, hissing through his ears. "Just grabbed as many kids as they could find. Didn't matter if they were really qualified or not; so long as they could wield a Keyblade, they were part of the Unions."

"That's—" Sigurd broke off, apparently at a loss for words. "I'm sorry."

Brain shrugged. "It's just how it was." He breathed out, and ignored the way it rattled his chest. "We figured things out, for the most part. Not like most people knew any better—or if we did, we thought maybe it would give us a chance to do something." Some bitterness entered his voice, and he tried to force it away. "People tried to spend time together after missions. Lot of people used to get together at different spots around town. Personally, I preferred the hills outside of town."

"Oh?"

"Fewer people."

Something amused entered Sigurd's voice. "I see."

"The fountain was popular," Skuld said, voice near a whisper, and Brain turned towards her; he hadn't realized she was still listening in. "I used to spend a lot of time there, with the friends I had before—before I met the Union Leaders. Besides Ephemer, I mean—but he wasn't always around."

"What do you mean?" Kvasir asked.

"He was—he left, for a while. To try and get the—the other Daybreak Town ready for us." There was something slightly stilted in her voice, something a little bitter, but she took in a breath and seemed to shove it aside. "We used to have a marketplace, too. Like the one in Scala—things people made, and things people found on their missions."

"Sometimes easier to find materials there," Brain added.

Skuld's lips tugged faintly towards a smile. "Ven liked looking at the things people sold. He'd come back with some of the strangest things."

"Like rocks."

"Geodes."

"Still rocks."

Skuld laughed, shoving Brain lightly. She sobered after a moment, eyes turning wistful. "It was…really pretty, in the early mornings. When it was quiet, and everything was just starting to brighten up—it felt like nothing bad could ever happen." She blinked rapidly. "I miss the sunrise."

Brain's throat tightened. He missed—a lot of things, really. Lauriam coming to find him in the early morning, cajoling him into eating breakfast with the rest of them. Quiet nights huddled with the others, telling stories to drive the nightmares away. Even the busier things, like trying to figure out missions or working on a problem with Ephemer. Almost all of his best memories were with them, but it felt too raw to admit—not here, not in this place, where the past felt so close he could almost touch it.

"…The library." He shrugged. "Scala's isn't quite the same."

Skuld sent him an understanding sort of look.

"I wish I could've seen it," Sigurd murmured.

Brain shrugged, trying not to think about it. "Well. Nothing lasts."

They fell into another uneasy silence. Brain wasn't sure where exactly the Clock Tower would be down here—or if it was even still around. It was too dark to see very far ahead of them, and he summoned his Keyblade, a ball of light appearing at the tip. Kvasir jumped, then gave him a sheepish smile and copied him. The light didn't stretch very far—only a couple of feet ahead of them—but it was better than the dim light of the chains.

(Another hissing whisper, curling through Brain's ears and around his back. It felt like something was slithering down his spine, cold and sticky.)

"There were stories about this," Skuld whispered.

"Stories?"

"About Ephemer's daughter, trying to lock Darkness away down here." Her fingers reached out to touch a chain. "But I guess it got out." A shaky breath. "They called for it. The bluebloods."

Brain cast her a curious look.

"That's—someone told me that." She shrugged, expression pinched. "I don't know if it's true."

A hissing sound—louder, this time, the noise rattling through a building. Brain whipped around, aiming the light towards it. A wisp of something disappeared around a corner. Could be Heartless, he thought. It was Heartless, before.

"What are we—what are we going to do when we find them?" Kvasir asked, backing closer. "You've fought Darkness before. How did you—?" He yelped, whipping around, at low, wordless sound from somewhere in the distance.

"You've heard the stories, right?" Brain asked grimly. "We didn't exactly beat it."

Kvasir swallowed tightly.

(But there might be a way to win, something whispered in the back of Brain's mind. If the black box is down here—then maybe we can trap it. If we can find it.)

Something like a breeze brushed across them. Another flash of light—Sigurd, summoning his Keyblade and moving closer to them.

Skuld took a breath. "Come out!" she shouted, and her voice echoed through the space. "We know you're there."

The light at the end of Brain's Keyblade guttered. He frowned, flicking it lightly—and then it disappeared completely, going out with a quiet hiss.

Kvasir made a nervous sort of noise; keychains rattled quietly; the quiet hissing grew louder, slowly, slowly, until—

"A Union Leader?"

The words came as a whisper—a shiver in the air, something hissing through his ears and crawling down his spine. Something brushed around his shoulders, and Brain forced himself not to react, carefully turning to observe his surroundings. The only thing he could see was dark water, trickling down the edge of one broken building and pooling on the cobblestones.

Something moved around Skuld's feet—a ripple of air, nearly invisible—and Skuld snapped away, Keyblade flashing into her hand. The ripple curled towards Brain, and he took an involuntary step back. "Two Union Leaders." It spun snug around his waist, twisting away with a light flick. "We remember you—you were here, not so long ago." Kvasir yelped, stumbling away, and Sigurd caught him to keep him steady; a shadow fell over his shoulders, sliding away like oil. "You are new. Curious."

The shadows curled away, sliding up the side of a building and stopping, like they were being watched. "What are you doing in our domain?"

"This isn't your place," Skuld practically snarled, light sparking around at her Keyblade's tip.

"Isn't it?" Water splashed against a broken edge, and Skuld flinched away from it, Keyblade lifted defensively. "Let me tell you a story, Little Light. A very long time ago—before you were even a thought in the universe—we were here. We are the very beginning of all things, and the very end. We are the generations of grief beneath your feet—the voices of thousands, screaming in rage and despair as their cities fell and worlds crumbled. We are you—your fear, your loneliness, your guilt—every ugly thing that you refuse to acknowledge, up until it consumes you. How could we possibly belong anywhere else?" Liquid shadows slid across the ground, rising into a dripping, unstable thing like the head of some beast, glowing yellow eyes peering from the darkness as it leaned towards Skuld's face. Those eyes narrowed, and Skuld edged back, just a little, lifting her Keyblade to give her some room. "Ah. We see you, Deifier of Fate. You are—Anger. And Helplessness. Always caught in someone's chains, no matter what you seem to do."

Skuld sucked in a breath, something flashing across her face that looked like anger.

"You don't have any new tricks, do you?" Brain interrupted. "We're here looking for someone—not to play games."

"Guilt." The word came too quick, too certain, and suddenly the shadows were hovering over him, now; he had to lean back to look at them, something dripping, cold and sticky, onto his cheek. "You, who thought he could fight fate and failed—and so many suffered for it. It aches, doesn't it? It's carved out a hole in your chest, and you can never seem to fill it."

He wanted to say something, but the words had gotten stuck somewhere in his ribcage.

(There was the doll of a dead child in his pocket, and it burned.)

A flash of heat—a fire spell, shot haphazardly from their left. Kvasir had summoned his Keyblade, and it was still lifted warily, despite how pale he looked. Sigurd stood behind him, hands lifted like he wasn't sure whether he wanted to pull him back or help him. "Leave—leave them alone. We just want our friend back—Mimir. You—we were told you took them."

"Mimir…?" The word rolled in a hissing whisper, like multiple voices overlapping, and the shadows pulled away from Brain, dropping onto the ground with a splash. "Our Little Light." Another pause, and when they spoke again, there was something on the edge of anger: "If we are not mistaken, your Ignorance is the reason they were in danger."

Kvasir, if anything, went paler.

"We just want to talk," Sigurd said, stepping forward and spreading his hands imploringly. "Perhaps we could strike a deal?"

"Sigurd," Brain hissed.

"Talk…?" There was something almost amused there, now, and if Brain listened closely, he thought he could hear the echoes of laughter—stolen voices, some child-like and joyful, something older and cracked, some deep and some high, all rolled into one. "Very well. Let's talk."

The water stopped dripping, frozen—and then it moved, shadows slithering across the ground. It pulled out from underneath Brain's feet, and he caught himself, edging closer to Skuld, his own Keyblade snapping upright. Kvasir and Sigurd moved closer, all of them grouping together as the darkness edged around them, bits and pieces pulled from every corner until the world seemed strangely flat and empty, coalescing into one great, shadowy thing—an ever-shifting creature with too many legs and none at all, a long-muzzle and jagged jaws that trailed wisps of smoke, shadows dripping from underneath glowing yellow eyes.

Darkness settled onto something that might've been arms or claws or nothing at all, and those glowing eyes narrowed. "Speak."

Brain snorted derisively, and it helped to mask his unease. "Bit different from the last time we fought you. What, you thought the smaller one wasn't scary enough?"

The eyes narrowed further, crinkling in what Brain, finally, recognized as amusement. "We were one, then, not many—and you still had to sacrifice your friend to defeat us."

(Brain blinked, and he was back in the Foretellers' Chambers, staring at Ven's back as he gave them a sad, resigned smile.)

"It was very clever. We are mostly disconnected from him, now—but we could feel the boy's grief, and his love, and the void as everything faded away. We have seen such things rarely—such a pleasant surprise, though unfortunate for our temporary loss."

Temporary?

Skuld took a breath, then pushed her way to the front, Keyblade shaking so hard the keychain rattled against the hilt. "Where is Mimir?"

"Safe. With us."

"That isn't safe."

"It is safe from the people who wished to harm them. From their memories, painful and confusing as they are."

Brain's eyes narrowed. Memories, huh?

Skuld's eyebrows furrowed; she glanced at Kvasir, who shrugged, and then hissed, "You're lying; you're just trying to trick us."

"No lie. They are ours. They have belonged to us since that day so long ago, when they turned themself over to us."

What are they talking about? They were Darkness; it wouldn't surprise Brain in the slightest if they were being lied to. But it would be…a strange sort of lie, given how cryptic it seemed.

"They don't belong to you," Skuld snapped. "They're our friend. We've come to get them back." She lifted her Keyblade, bracing herself. "We'll fight if we have to."

Kvasir shot them a nervous look, then shifted into position. Sigurd hesitated for half a moment, then moved, too, Keyblade held steady.

Brain remained where he was, watching them.

Darkness tilted their head, shadows dripping and spinning. "They were yours once, weren't they? You and that boy."

Skuld went very, very still.

A low hum, vibrating the ground and rumbling through Brain's chest. "What would you do for them?"

"Anything," Skuld said, immediate.

"And the rest of you? You said we could make a 'deal,' Lost One."

Sigurd started, apparently realizing they were talking about him. "I—yes. Yes, if you would give them back—what would you like?"

Brain narrowed his eyes. "One of us?" he guessed, careful. "One vessel for another."

Darkness tilted their head, and he could feel their eyes on him suddenly. "Would you give yourself up for them?"

(Yes. Yes, if it meant he could actually save someone this time. Yes, because he wasn't willing to lose anyone else, and he hadn't deserved to—)

"No." Skuld gripped Brain's wrist, tugging on it lightly. She was staring at him with something like fear. "No. We're not giving up anyone."

"Hmm." Darkness studied Brain a bit longer. "It would not be a sacrifice for you, anyways." The words crashed into his chest, and he barely had time to process them before Darkness continued, "We have a proposal."

Kvasir perked up a little. "Oh. That's—that's good, I suppose?"

Those amused eyes, again, and Brain said, "Don't think we're going to like it."

"Perhaps we can play…a game."

"What?" Skuld asked, voice pitching incredulously.

"What kind of game?" Brain asked, because there was no way this was something that would actually be in their favor.

"See if you can find them. If you can convince them to go with you, then you may take them." The shadows shifted, and for the first time Brain realized they were edging closer, hemming them in on all sides. "There is a catch, of course."

"Like?" Brain asked, eyeing the shifting shadows.

The others had noticed them too, now. Kvasir had moved, nervously, towards them; Sigurd had turned, Keyblade lifted like he could fend off the encroaching shadows; Skuld kept her Keyblade pointed at Darkness's head, but her head snapped towards the ring around them.

"Each of you will face us."

Brain breathed in, very slowly, and felt it rattle in his chest. Skuld tensed, hand around his wrist tightening.

"Alone?" Kvasir asked, voice pitching.

"Yes."

"What happens if we don't?" Skuld asked, voice tight.

"Then you may leave." Sigurd started backwards, knocking into them; Brain looked back and realized that the shadows had parted, leaving a clear route through the ruins of Daybreak Town. "But you won't be able to retrieve your friend." The air shifted, and Brain snapped around as that great head lowered. "Do we have a deal?"

Brain exchanged glances with the others. Skuld's face was set into a steely expression, and he was reminded that she'd run into a war for one friend; there was no way she'd shy away from fighting Darkness for another. Kvasir was pale, but his expression was determined. Sigurd still had his Keyblade lifted; quietly, he said, "I will follow the rest of you, if you want to fight."

…They didn't have a choice, really, if they wanted Mimir back.

Skuld must've come to the same conclusion Brain had, because she turned back to Darkness and said, "We accept."

"Excellent." The shadows closed—and then, just as suddenly, they fell upon them, and Brain's Keyblade flashed, something in him screaming, It's a trick, it's a trick—

He tried to keep ahold of Skuld, but something pulled them apart, her hand ripped away so quickly it was painful. He thought he heard the others briefly—faint screams of alarm, cut off and deadened, and he searched through the shadows, trying to shout their names and finding the words caught in his throat.

The shadows wrapped around him, cold and clinging; he tried to lift his Keyblade to fight them off, but it felt heavy, a weight pressing down, down, down, until he could barely move at all. He couldn't see anything, the darkness almost painful. Something felt like it was filling his chest, bubbling like water up his throat; his head spun, and he stumbled, held up only by the shadows surrounding him.

"Good luck. We hope that you surprise us."

The shadows released him, and he fell.

-It was nice here.

Kvasir didn't know where here was, but—it was nice. Peaceful. There were lots of flowers—blue and orange and purple and colors he wasn't sure he could name, surrounding him, but not crowding quite close enough to make him feel uncomfortable. He thought he could hear birds in the distance. His friends were just a little ways away in a clearing, laughing.

He smiled. It was—nice. He wasn't sure the last time he'd felt so happy. Maybe it was before—

Before—

…Hmm. He wasn't sure what before was. Maybe it didn't matter.

"Kvasir!" That was Skuld, giving him an amused sort of look. "What are you doing over there?"

He wasn't sure about that, either, but it didn't feel like it was important. "Resting?" he suggested with an awkward sort of smile.

Brain snorted. He didn't say anything, but he looked relaxed, smile easy, dark circles gone from under his eyes. That was good; he hadn't been getting a lot of rest since—

Since when?

Something a little uneasy flickered through the back of Kvasir's mind, but it was gone in almost an instant. It didn't matter; he was okay now, and that was all that was important, really.

"Come on," Skuld said, dragging him to his feet. "We were going to play a game."

Oh, their Keyblades were out—and now that he was looking, he could see splashes of color against the ground. He smiled. He liked that game; he was glad that Skuld and Brain were enjoying it this time—

…No, no, they'd enjoyed it last time, too. It was a good idea. He'd helped them.

"Are we doing teams?" he asked.

"We can," Skuld said, eyes crinkling with amusement. "If that's what you want."

That sounded—nice. It'd be fun, and later, they could switch teams, maybe.

"Mimir," he said, turning, "you and I should be—"

And then he broke off, because there was something—something wrong about that, wasn't there?

But that wasn't right. Mimir was right there. They were smiling at him, expression slowly turning bemused as he hesitated.

But—

But, no. There was—there was something about Mimir. Something he was supposed to remember.

The world, for a moment, seemed to shift. Everything flickered. The flowers—for only a brief moment—shriveled and lost their color. The birds fell silent. Something smelled like rot, and when he looked at Mimir, they looked—

Wrong.

He stumbled backwards, shaky with sudden panic, heart thumping a little too hard. He—didn't like this. He didn't want this, he didn't want this, didn't want—

"So stop looking."

He blinked. The world returned to normal—peaceful and colorful, his friends waiting for him. But he didn't know where the voice had come from. "Stop…looking?" he repeated, swiveling around to try and find the source.

"That's right." There—a small creature that had materialized just outside the rim of flowers. It was kind of cute, round and fluffy with long ears and tiny paws. The only thing that seemed strange were the eyes—there were many of them, on its head, its side, its back, all closed and scrunched up like the little creature was smiling. "You'll be happier if you stop."

An eerie wave of calm washed over him. That's right. He'd be—happier, if he didn't look. There was nothing to worry about. It could be like before.

(…Before?)

"Your friends are waiting. Don't you want to play?"

Oh. That's right. He'd almost forgotten—they were waiting for him. He smiled. "Thank you."

"Of course." The little creature smiled back, and Kvasir wasn't sure, but as he turned to join his friends, he thought that mouth stretched a little too wide, revealing rows and rows of too-large, too-sharp teeth.

…But that was his imagination, probably. After all—it was too peaceful here for something like that.

-He couldn't recognize this place.

Everything was strangely empty—like he was standing on stardust, flecks of light glittering underneath his feet, water ripping around his shoes. Bits and pieces of worlds appeared beneath the waves—tiny islands of places that seemed almost familiar, but when he tried to reach for why, the answers slipped from his grasp like fish.

He didn't know how he'd arrived here. He reached back into his memories, and—nothing. There was nothing—just a black space, buzzing with static where the answer should be.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe, couldn't—why couldn't he remember? It felt like he was clawing for something in his mind, digging desperately into the deepest parts of himself to try and drag out something he recognized.

It took a while for him to realize he was clawing at his head, too—at a hat, a hood, a mask. He pulled a hand away. He—

What had he been doing again?

His heartrate settled slowly. Why had he been so frightened? There was—there was something that he'd been worried about. What was it?

"Sigurd."

The name rang with a sort of familiarity. Was it his?

There was a mirror in front of him. The surface rippled, reflecting back someone that wasn't familiar but that something in him said should be, purple clothes and a hat and a hidden face. Something like a serpent curled around the ornate edges; a head arched over the edge of the mirror, ram-like horns curling on either side of a featureless, flat mask. Bits and pieces of the serpent flickered into and out of visibility—like maybe he was only imagining it, and it wasn't really there at all.

…Had the mirror been there before? He didn't think it—

There was a mirror in front of him.

He stood without really thinking about it. His fingers splayed against the mirror, and it rippled like water—like what was under his feet. He was standing on stardust, bits and pieces of worlds appeared beneath the waves—and they appeared in the mirror, too. Images of a large beast, screeching, and of someone fighting it and screaming back, and of a starlit town and a place edged in daybreak.

There was a person in the mirror he didn't recognize. Was that him?

…There was someone else there, too. Someone in a black coat. It set off something in the back of his mind that screamed a warning, and suddenly he couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe.

The black-coated figure tilted his head; he couldn't see his face, but he thought he could imagine a smile. When he spoke, it sounded like a whisper, hissed from the snake above his head. "Don't you remember that we made a deal?"

No no no no no—

His heart was pounding so hard he tasted something metallic. He was—he thought this was fear. But—

But why was he afraid?

His heart slowed gradually, but he still couldn't breathe, his hands shaking, and he stood there, tired and lost and confused.

…He couldn't recognize this place. Why was he here, again?

-It was like Daybreak Town had reconstructed itself when he wasn't looking.

The cobblestones were warm and solid under his feet. The houses stood bright and vibrant. Low chatter came from the streets, laughter in the distance. There were people, here—people he hadn't seen since before Daybreak Town fell. The Clock Tower still stood, bright against the clouds, and his throat tightened with a homesickness he hadn't expected.

"Brain?"

Lauriam. He turned, slowly, to look at his friend. He was exactly like he was in his memories—the same worried expression, same clothes, same everything—and Brain had to remind himself that this wasn't real.

(Each of you will face us.)

"Is everything alright?"

The words caught in Brain's throat; he just kept staring at Lauriam, because even if he knew he wasn't actually here, there was something in his heart that screamed that he was.

(Darkness is just messing with you. You have living friends to find.)

With an effort of will he turned his head away, breathing in deeply. (It even smelled like home—like the faint, familiar scent of magic and of baking bread and flowers.) "Yeah," he said, and the words sounded distant. "I'm fine." And then he started moving, because if he stayed in one place for too long, he might fall into—into whatever this was supposed to be.

Lauriam made a surprised noise, and Brain heard his footsteps as he followed him, and he swallowed back whatever words he might've said. "Are you sure?" he asked. "You looked…distressed."

Brain almost laughed, bitter, and breathed it out in an annoyed huff instead, blinking stinging eyes. Darkness said we needed to find Mimir. So they're here in Daybreak Town, somewhere. Their house, maybe—but I never found out where that was.

(He remembered that bakery; its owner had disappeared before the war, but his friend had kept looking for him. He wondered what happened to them, once the data-Daybreak Town went to sleep.)

"Hey," Brain said. "Skuld and Ephemer's friend. Do you know where they live?"

"I'm…not sure? You could ask them."

Maybe. Maybe Skuld was here, too; it might make sense, if Darkness was giving them a way to find Mimir. But finding her might mean finding Ephemer, and—

It doesn't matter. You need to find Mimir. You can deal with anything else.

"Good point," he said aloud, but it was hard to hear it over the way his ears rang, and his feet turned toward the Clock Tower almost of their own accord.

(There was the library. He was pretty sure he still had unreturned books—not that it mattered much, now. The librarian had taken his slip-ups with good humor. They didn't come with the Dandelions, he'd realized later, but people had left flowers on their desk, or notes on books, saying they were sorry they were late or that they were just taking something really quick, it'd be back before too long.)

"Brain, you're starting to worry me."

"You were always worried about us," Brain answered, automatic, and then clamped his mouth closed around the rest of the words. Always worried about me when I didn't sleep, about Ven when he had nightmares, about Ephemer and Skuld when they worked too much, always always always—

"…Were?"

He cursed himself quietly; of course Lauriam would—

It's not Lauriam.

He shrugged, and decided not to play Darkness's game anymore.

"Brain—"

"Hey, Union Leaders!"

Brain didn't look, but the voice tugged at his memory—one of the Dandelions, still bright and here and alive. The people they'd been charged with protecting.

(There was the doll of a dead child in his pocket—)

Lauriam turned his worried look away from Brain, slowly plastering on an uncertain smile. "Hello. Did you need—Brain?"

He couldn't stay. He had—he had someone to find. Multiple people to find. This was all just a trick, anyways.

(It felt a little like he was running away. He wasn't, but—

He could still feel their eyes on the back of his head. Their face was blurry in his mind, lost in a sea of others, and he thought maybe it was better if it stayed that way.)

"You don't have to keep following me," Brain snapped when he heard Lauriam shouting after him. "I know the way to the Clock Tower."

"Brain," Lauriam—not Lauriam, not Lauriam, why do you keep talking to him—was starting to sound irritated, and it was familiar in a way that made his heart twist. "What happened? Did you see something?"

Don't talk to him—them. It's Darkness. Don't talk to them. They're just trying to use your weaknesses against you.

"Is there something you needed to do?"

Skuld and Ephemer might be—but if Ephemer's just another illusion, then he might not give me a straightforward answer. Skuld, though—

"I don't know what's going on. I need you to talk to me."

Stop.

"…What?"

All of a sudden, they were standing in the Clock Tower entryway. Brain hadn't realized they'd been so close; he stared at the familiar halls, and it felt like something was being hollowed out of his chest. He hadn't been here that long, all things considered, but it had felt more like home than anywhere he'd ever been.

(And it's not here anymore because—)

"Stop what?" Lauriam asked, and Brain knew he shouldn't respond, but—

But being here, in the Clock Tower, surrounded by things that were so achingly familiar, it felt like something inside him cracked.

"Stop using him against me." Brain couldn't turn, because he thought if he actually had to look at Lauriam's face while he was saying it, he'd forget what he was doing. "I know what you're doing. 'Each of us will face you'—not fight you, but face our own darkness, is that right? What does Lauriam have to do with that?"

(You know very well, don't you?)

"Brain? Lauriam?"

Brain's head snapped up, and—

Ven.

Brain had known he was young, but it hit him, looking at his specter, just how young he seemed—clothes still too big, eyes too wide and worried, baby fat on his face. He knew it was a trap, he knew, he knew it was, but—

(He was staring at Ven, still so new to all of this, uncertain about his own leadership abilities but bright and excited about the Spirits. He was staring at a kid who was huddling close to Lauriam because of nightmares, or coming to ask about Brain about something that he was working on, or coming back with something he found to show Skuld, or asking Ephemer about one of his conspiracy theories.

He was staring at the back of his friend—too young, too young—as he faced down Darkness to protect them.

We failed you. We failed you, I'm sorry—)

Brain clenched his fists so hard that his nails bit into his palms.

Ven's—not Ven's—eyes flicked between the two of them, nervous. "Are you—are you guys arguing about something?"

"I don't know," Lauriam answered, and for all that he tried to be gentle he still sounded frustrated, and Brain bit his tongue hard enough to taste blood. "Something's wrong with Brain—but he won't tell me what."

"Oh." Ven's expression shifted towards something worried—he'd always been so open with his emotions, he really couldn't—stop that, it's not Ven—and then brightened, blinding with a smile. "Maybe it'd help if everyone was here? That usually helps with nightmares, right?"

"No." The word came out sharp and quick, and he ripped his hand away from Ven's before he could really get ahold of it.

(Ven looked hurt, and he had to remind himself, over and over, it's Darkness, it's Darkness, they're just messing with you—)

(It was starting not to feel that way.)

"He's trying to help," Lauriam said, disapproving, and his eyes snapped towards him involuntarily. It wasn't a happy expression, twisted and worried and upset, but in a strange way that made it worse, because that made it feel more normal, and—

And he needed to go.

Brain had turned to run before he had the chance to process what he was doing, ignoring the shouts behind him, because he just needed to find Skuld so they could team up and find Mimir and get out of here—

He knew these hallways. Even if his eyes were closed, he could probably find his way through them. He didn't know where Skuld might be, but he could take guesses. The Foretellers' Chambers (they were almost the same as he'd left them, books and materials scattered across his desk). The kitchen (the cabinets were open, like someone had gone rummaging through them to find snacks). The common room (there were blankets and pillows and little knickknacks from quests, dropped there and forgotten).

He needed to—think. He needed to calm down. This was—nothing. Nothing but his own memories, made manifest. He could—he could manage this. It was fine. He just had to come up with some sort of plan—

He rounded a corner and nearly collided with someone; he reeled back, and nearly wilted with relief when a familiar voice asked, "Brain?"

"Skuld," he replied, breathless, and—and that was good, because finally there was something real, and he could use that to ground him and they could work together to find—

…Oh.

Her clothes were different—like they were back in Daybreak Town, when he'd first met her. She hadn't aged that much between then and now, but there was still something about her that seemed younger. Lighter.

This wasn't Skuld as he knew her—not the way she was now, in Scala ad Caelum. The Skuld he knew was angry—and that anger had always been there, but it felt more present now, like it hovered over her. Scared, too, between stressors about the council and what the bluebloods might do and everything else. This Skuld was still…not carefree, but—happy. Or, at least, she could be happy. He knew; he remembered watching her share jokes with Ephemer, or take on missions with Ven, or have conversations with Lauriam. Remembered what it was like to talk to her as she'd been, and he found himself wondering, Where did that go?

(You know. She lost her world. She lost her friends. And who was supposed to prevent that?)

"Is everything okay?"

Skuld's eyebrows furrowed, and Brain's throat tightened, because this is the way things should've been if he didn't mess up—

"I'm sorry."

He blurted the words before he had the chance to think about them, and they spilled onto the ground in front of him, useless apologies that slipped through his fingers like water.

(Outside the windows, the world was starting to grow darker. The wind picked up, rattling against the glass.)

"Sorry?"

"I—no." He took a few stumbling steps backwards, pressing his hands to his face. Breathe. Focus. This isn't real.

"Brain, what's wrong?"

This isn't real isn't real isn't real—

He stumbled backwards, and went to turn—to run, to look anywhere else—but when he looked at her he froze, apologies bubbling in his throat.

(It's my fault. This shouldn't have happened. I was supposed to stop it.)

"Brain?"

"Brain!"

(The windows were cracking. Chips ran up their middles and spread onto the walls. The whole Clock Tower creaked, like it would crumble underneath him at any moment.)

Skuld looked beyond him. "Do you guys know what's wrong with Brain?"

"I was hoping you might," Lauriam answered, and all Brain could do was stare.

(He shouldn't be letting this happen, he should be moving, he should be moving, but he—

Couldn't.)

Something cold slithered over his shoulders. Breath hissed near his ear, dripping down his neck. "You poor thing. It is hard, to look at what should have been. If only you hadn't failed."

A terrible ripping sound tore through the Clock Tower. Skuld screeched, covering her head with her arms, and Ven screamed, and Lauriam shouted in alarm, and Brain moved, calling for his Keyblade and casting a spell that did nothing.

He thought he heard one of his friends shout his name. Or multiple, maybe. It was hard to hear over the roaring wind, and he stood there frozen, Keyblade still extended and a useless spell flickering at its tip.

The floor fell away near his feet. He kicked backwards, his heel hitting the edge, and he wobbled and caught himself, stabbing his Keyblade into—

That's not Starlight.

Sticking out of the ground was Master's Defender. It felt familiar and warm in his grip, and that contrasted with the feeling of wrong wrong wrong that sang in his chest.

"Let me tell you a story, Little Light. There once was a boy who was too clever for his own good. Clever enough he thought he could play the hero, and challenge fate itself. How did he put it? Ah, yes—a 'virus' in the program."

Something leaned heavy against his back and shoulders; he stumbled under it and fell, fingers ripped from Master's Defender. When his knees hit the ground, he was in Daybreak Town's ruins. Keyblades stuck out of the floor, the walls, the buildings, and a voice whispered, close against his ear: "Oh, Little Light—did you not know that viruses kill?"

A weight fell into his hands. The Book of Prophecies sat clutched in his fingers, the edges stained with something dark and sticky.

"You were entrusted with such a great responsibility. Look around. Aren't you proud?"

"I—" The words stuck in his throat. "This is a trick."

"Does it matter if this is just a vision from Darkness?" asked a familiar voice, and it felt like someone had reached through his ribcage and ripped something else. "You're smart, Brain. Darkness might lie, but look around. You've seen the ruins. You've seen what's happening in Scala. You could never stop any of it."

"It's a trick," he repeated, but it felt distant, and he wasn't sure he'd entirely convinced himself. "It's not—"

He looked, anyways.

Ephemer stood over him. In life, he'd been shorter than him—but he towered over him now, etched in light, eyes narrowed in disapproval. A shadow flickered over his shoulders; long, spindly hands rested on his shoulders, and when he spoke, his voice echoed:

"You were never a hero. You have only ever been a sacred little boy who thought he could fashion himself into something greater. But that's alright—you are no different than any other wielder in Daybreak Town. How many of the Dandelions thought themselves the same? How many young wielders were drawn in by promises of heroism, only to find themselves facing down monsters they couldn't face? How many had the same, horrifying realization that they were not qualified? That they were not braver, or stronger, or smarter than their peers. That they were simply…human."

The Book of Prophecies had disappeared, somewhere. A broken doll sat in his palms instead, cupped carefully, like it would break if he made the wrong move.

"You were just as helpless, at the end. All that bravado—and it fell apart when it really mattered. There is no real merit to your survival over anyone else's. They all had families, too. Friends. Dreams. What would they say, if they could see you?"

He wanted to apologize. It felt inadequate, and he hissed to himself, over and over, It's not real. It's a trick. Darkness is trying to distract you.

(But the Dandelions are still gone, aren't they?)

The shadowy thing behind Ephemer grew sharper. The shadows solidified into a humanoid sort of thing—a torso and arms, too-thin, ragged skin fading into a wispy, shadowy tail. The stomach was torn open and rotten, bugs crawling across the skin and gnawing on exposed bones, something rotten clinging to its jagged edges. A fox-like head stared at him, skin so shrunken around its head Brain could see the contours of its skull, sharp pinpoints of light glittering where its eyes should be.

"Tell me, Little Light—can you live with the guilt? Or will you let it eat you alive?"

-It was so dark down here that Skuld couldn't see anything. Her fingers ran along a wall, using it to help her feel her way forward. "When Darkness said we'd face them," she murmured, "I didn't think it'd be so literal."

Her toes cracked against something, and she hissed quietly as she stumbled, throwing a hand out to catch herself. It felt like something wire-like was wrapped around her arms and neck; she rubbed at them, but her fingers didn't catch against anything. There was a heat in her chest—banked embers, burning slowly, but she chocked that up to her own nerves and ignored the taste of smoke in her mouth.

She toed her way forward—more careful, this time—and finally gave into the urge to summon her Keyblade. She heard the quiet shing! and felt its weight in her hand, but couldn't see it; an attempt at a spell failed, even though she felt the drain on her magic, like something leaching out of her fingers, and she sighed and resigned herself to stumbling through the dark.

Her nails scraped against stone, a slow tick-tick-tick—screech! She frowned, pausing and flattening her palm. Her skin touched cool metal; carefully she felt along the edges, finding straight, sturdy supports, a handle, and what felt like bars and empty space, just a little above her head. A door…?

Something shuffled behind it. A quiet breath, like someone was startled, and Skuld's heart beat a little faster. Mimir.

She took several steps back, pointing her Keyblade at the door. A click, and then a low screeching sound, and another gasp, something kicking against the floor. "Mimir?" she asked, voice pitching towards something hopeful. She still couldn't see them, but there was—there was something in the darkness, hazy outlines just becoming visible as she blinked.

(Those embers were starting to burn hotter.)

The other person in the cell didn't say anything, and so Skuld took a couple more steps inside, calling gently, "It's me. I've come to get you out of here."

There was a long, long pause, and she could just barely see the other person in the cell shifting, hesitantly uncurling from the fetal position they'd crammed themself into. She could see them a little better, now, and while she couldn't make out details, there were things that seemed…off. The hair was too long, trailing over too-thin shoulders, the proportions all wrong.

A croak, hoarse and painful, like the person was trying to speak. A cough—and then, in a voice that she recognized but shouldn't, not in this way, asked, "…Out?"

Skuld went very, very still.

There was something like fire, starting to glow at the tip of her Keyblade against her will. Her fingers smoldered, smoke trailing off them. And in front of her, highlighted in the flickering fire, was a girl who looked like her, dressed in a hospital, hair stringy and face too thin, staring at her with wide eyes that were slowly, slowly growing wider in confused recognition.

(Something tightened around her neck, thin and blue and bright.)

"Who," Skuld whispered, voice growing hoarse, "who are you?"

-Aegir, you fool. Frigga really had meant to talk longer with Meili—to learn more about the Union Leaders and plan—but with everything they'd told her…

She couldn't. It was too risky. And the worst part was, it lined up with what she knew.

Aegir had argued for action against the Union Leaders. The Union Leaders themselves had been acting strangely. They'd been looking for a friend. It seemed odd that Aegir would tell all of that to an illegitimate heir, but if he was desperate, he might go to the only other person who had the power and connections to give him extra information.

She couldn't make unfounded accusations—but it wasn't hard to send someone to Aegir's estate and confirm that he wasn't there. Hadn't been there the whole day. And she'd just gotten a report back from Sol; the estate was empty, but one of the rooms was partially destroyed, like there was some sort of fight.

It made sense. And if Aegir was willing to go behind her back like that, then it made him a liability.

Which is why she found herself standing outside Aegir's estate, a couple of trusted Keyblade wielders behind her, Osmin included. He had a pensive expression on his face, but he didn't protest her actions, just giving her a nod.

"Let me confront him first," Frigga warned, quiet. "Wait until he's confessed to enter."

Another curt nod, the wielders standing a little straighter.

The estate was almost silent. Almost. Noise came from up the stairs, in Aegir's study. It was telling that he hadn't even seemed to notice that Frigga and her entourage had entered the building.

The study was in disarray. The desk was a mess of papers; a bag was shoved next to it, already stuffed fully. Aegir was across the room, muttering to himself as he took down painting after painting: "Need to make sure this one is preserved—I can't take this with me—perhaps it won't be necessary, if the Union Leaders don't come back—"

"Hello, Aegir."

Aegir spun around. He looked frazzled—more frazzled than Frigga would've expected, under normal circumstances. She smiled, and it had an edge to it. "What have you done?"

"Frigga." Aegir seemed to make an effort to compose himself, smoothing his shirt and running a hand through his hair. "I wasn't expecting visitors."

"So I see." She tilted her head. "Where have you been all day?"

Aegir studied her, and something glinted in his eyes. "Was I needed for something?"

"Not particularly, no—but I heard that you'd gone off to the outer islands."

Something nervous, then, flickering briefly across Aegir's face and gone again in a moment. "I don't believe it's any of your business what I do. If that's all—"

"It is my business if you are participating in activities that could threaten Scala ad Caelum."

"What are you talking about? Do you think I would put my own home in danger?"

Her smile turned a little sharper. "Aegir," she said, keeping her voice pleasant, "I really do need to know: what were you doing on Sol?"

She could see him coming to a realization, and there was a vindictive thing that sang in her chest, because she'd been right. She supposed Meili was earning their keep, even if she'd been reluctant to concede to their deal.

"I told you," Aegir said, "that it's not your concern."

She hummed, and magic thrummed in her palms. "You aren't particularly fond of the Union Leaders, are you, Aegir?"

Aegir's eyes flashed.

"That's not a secret—the whole family is aware, after your request to band against them. I'm sure no one would be surprised to discover that you had lured them out to Sol with their friend."

"I wasn't trying to lure them out—" Aegir snapped, and then broke off, seeming to realize his mistake too late.

Master's Defender flashed into Frigga's hand.

Aegir's eyes snapped towards it.

"Aegir," Frigga said, voice crisp and clear, and his eyes moved to her, now, slowly widen, "your actions have put the council, the Union Leaders, and the people of Scala ad Caelum at risk—"

"You can't be serious."

"—and so, by my authority as the Head of the Council—"

"They are a threat."

"—I am placing you under arrest." She flicked her Keyblade. Chains flickered at the tip, and she twisted them easily, aiming them in Aegir's direction.

A flash. A clang. Aegir leapt backward, Keyblade lifted, but his eyes flashed behind her—to the wielders waiting to back up her decision. "You," he hissed, turning towards Frigga, "are not worthy to wield that blade."

"Someday, Aegir, you will have to get over the fact that I was bequeath, and not you. As it stands, you have actively worked behind my back in order to threaten the Union Leaders, putting our family in a precarious position and leading to potentially dangerous political complications for Scala ad Caelum at large."

"I have only ever done what is best for our family," Aegir spat. "We are losing power, Frigga, and you know it. You haven't had the success with the Union Leaders you would've liked."

"They are under control."

"Then where are they?"

Frigga could feel eyes on her, now, but she smiled easily, even if there was an edge to it. "Cleaning up your mess, I presume."

"They have more power than you do," Aegir spat. "More power than the council. Otherwise, they wouldn't be allowed to do whatever they want. But they don't know how to run this city; they have not been here. And for all of their legends, they are just children. Children who have proven powerful enough and uncontrolled enough to be a threat to our own. Didn't Master Brain attack one of your own?"

"Aegir—"

"What have they done to help this city?" Aegir spread his arms. "What have they actually accomplished, in their time here?"

There was little Frigga could say to that; between their own actions and Frigga's attempts to keep them out of the way, they really hadn't done much for Scala at large. But Aegir didn't need to have his point proven.

"They do not care," Aegir continued, "but you will not stop wasting time with them."

"What the Union Leaders have and have not done is irrelevant," Frigga said, staying as calm as possible. "Their actions have not warranted your threats against them, and you have only—"

"And you have not done nearly enough to contain them," Aegir snapped. "You are not nearly aggressive enough—not willing enough to do what you need to in order to protect our family."

The first true stirrings of anger started burning behind her chest. "I have an entire city to think about, Aegir," she snapped.

"Then prove you're worthy to lead it." Aegir lifted his Keyblade, eyes flashing. "I'm challenging you for your position."

Frigga raised an eyebrow. It had been a long time since anyone had attempted to challenge someone for a council position. Normally, passing the position on proceeded peacefully, the initial holder of the position handing it over to their chosen successor. It wasn't unheard of; however… "I have no intent to honor your request, Aegir, when have already been accused of crimes against the people of Scala ad Caelum."

"I wasn't giving you an option."

Light glinted off metal, and Frigga just had time to lift Master's Defender and block the strike. Aegir glared at her over the edge of his Keyblade, something wild in his eyes.

Frigga narrowed hers in response; with a flick she forced him back, then slid into a ready position. Fool, she thought. If you will force me to fight, then I'll show you why I was chosen over you.

Summary for trigger warning sections: Darkness appears and confronts the crew. They demand Mimir back, and Brain implies Darkness might ask for a sacrifice, considering offering himself. Skuld rebuffs this idea, and Darkness offers to play a 'game' with them instead; each of them will face Darkness individually, and if they can get past them, they'll have the opportunity to try and convince Mimir to come with them. They agree and are swallowed by Darkness.

Each character finds themselves in a different location. Kvasir is in a peaceful field with his friends, and seems to have forgotten what he was supposed to be doing; when he sees Mimir, he almost remembers, but it changes the world into something horrifying. A small, innocent-looking creature tells him not to look, and he agrees and turns away.

Sigurd finds himself in a place reminiscent of the Final World. He struggles to hold onto any memories at all, and comes face to face with a creature of his own: a snake-like creature with a mask and ram horns, curling around a mirror. He sees a black-coated figure in the mirror, and the creature mentions something about a 'deal.'

Brain finds himself in Daybreak Town, but is aware that this is likely an illusion from Darkness and tries his best to ignore it. However, his memories of Daybreak Town and the presence of the other Union Leaders slowly wears him down; the world starts to break apart as his guilt begins to get overwhelming, and he ends up staring down Ephemer and a creature of his own, who taunt him about his failures.

(Skuld's section isn't included here because the trigger warning ends at the end of Brain's section.)

THEY'RE HERE. FINALLY. Or, well, three out of four, anyways. But I have been DYING to get to this—to these 'personal' Darknesses, so to speak. They are, technically, four out of the five ancient Darknesses; they're just personifying aspects of the people their facing. Specifically, they're personifying aspects of each individual that could cause them to fall INTO darkness if they aren't careful. I actually have a ton to say about these guys—the original ideas for them, their designs, their individual challenges (and how each character deals with them), but a) that requires a whole Tumblr post, and b) I'm going to save that for when we get past this set of chapters to avoid spoilers.

(Side note: originally, all four were planned to appear in this chapter. That's largely because I planned to have Skuld's entire confrontation with her personal Darkness in this chapter, but while writing, I couldn't quite get that to work and still feel natural, so I decided to move it to next chapter with everybody else's. There IS a reason I was trying to fit all of hers into one chapter, though—we'll get to that later, though you might be able to hazard a guess as to why.)

But, uh, not the only big thing happening this chapter. The location of the Book of Prophecies is probably may favorite 'reveal' that wasn't actually supposed to be a reveal, haha; I showed Frigga with it in chapter four, so when Brain and Skuld started speculating about where it could be, I was actually assuming that most people would realize the characters' assumptions were wrong, and the actual interesting part about that would be, "What's ACTUALLY behind the door?" and, "When will they figure it out?" I didn't realize until afterward that, uh…it'd be really easy to assume Frigga could just open the door and take the Book out as she pleased, aha, so that was my own fault, but it turned into something kind of fun for me, since I got to do a reveal I hadn't planned on before! (Additional side note: it'll be made clearer later, but just for additional clarification, Frigga's well-aware that leaving the Book in a drawer without extra protection would be…dangerous. Thankfully, she's well-versed at creating things that can only be opened with her Keyblade.)

As you can probably tell, there's…there's a lot of stuff that's going to be happening across these next couple of chapters. Buckle up, haha.