Fallen Stars

by Cori Shadowfang

Do you want to hear a story? It's not so much a grand tale as it is a lot of little things. Growing up. Moving on. Healing, or not. And maybe it's also, a little bit, about defying fate, and what the world might do to set things back the way they should be. Mostly, though, it's just a story about two friends. (Brain wasn't the only one who ended up in Scala ad Caelum.)

24. What You Are in the Dark

'The crew faces Darkness. Frigga faces Aegir.'

Content Warning: The same content warnings apply from last chapter (guilt tripping, suicidal ideation, body horror, and messing with certain characters' perceptions of reality), with the addition of self-harm (albeit probably not in the way most people would think). These apply to the four sections where the cast confronts Darkness (every other section, once the fight between Frigga and Aegir starts); like with the last chapter, I'll put a summary of those sections down at the bottom.

---

Chapter Twenty-Four: What You Are in the Dark

Everything was dark here. It was cold, but…comforting. Like something had wrapped a blanket around you, keeping you carefully safe from the outside world.

Something moved, trailing over your shoulders. It pulled you close, and you leaned into it. It felt familiar—like you should know who was keeping you safe.

"Your friends have come to find you."

Your…friends? "Skuld and Ephemer?" you whispered, words sticky, and you…weren't sure how to feel about that—excited or terrified or—

You didn't know.

"Skuld—but not Ephemer. He's long passed."

"Oh." Something said you knew that; it burned all the same, and you swallowed bile. "Who…?"

"Brain. That blueblood boy—Kvasir. And they've brought someone else, hoping to bring you back."

"Bring me…back?"

It started slowly—a faint, jittery nervousness in your their hands, a tight feeling in their chest. All of a sudden, their head hurt, and they made a low whining noise, clutching at their skull, because—

(They were sitting on the fountain with Skuld and Ephemer they were training at the school they were fighting in the Keyblade War they were—)

"Shh. It's alright. We have you."

They You pulled your hands away. The shadows wrapped around you, hugging you close, and your breathing steadied, blurry images fading until you couldn't remember what you were worried about at all.

"Do you want to see them?"

You shook your head before you even really had the chance to think about it. They made your heart hurt. If they found you—you didn't want to think about it. You just wanted to rest.

"Alright." The shadows pulled away slowly, and you were glad; they would protect you, like they had before.

(…Hadn't they killed you before…?)

"But they are persistent. You may need to fight, if they do not turn away."

You swallowed and nodded. It wasn't like you hadn't fought them before, after all.

---

-Crash—clang! Metal flashed, glinting in the dim lighting. The walls shook. One painting fell from them, clattering to the floor, hitting the ground and breaking apart. A slammed into another, fire slowly eating at the edges.

Another flash, and another quick clang, clang! A spinning figure, in the light briefly and then gone again, light glinting off his Keyblade as he spun to block an errant blow. Aegir certainly hadn't lost his touch over the years; he fought just as aggressively as he always had, pressing forward with blow after blow after blow, each hit slamming harshly against Master's Defender. Frigga parried, once, twice, taking careful, steady steps backward. On the third strike she twisted her Keyblade, spinning it around Aegir's until its teeth caught the shaft. She wasn't stronger than Aegir, but she didn't need to be, tugging at the tip of her opponent's blade with her hilt and shoving it aside, letting her weapon slide down the shaft towards Aegir's chest.

He released his Keyblade and resummoned it in quick succession, throwing a Firaga spell from its tip. With a quick flick of her Keyblade, Frigga threw up a barrier, watching as the spell crashed against it. Her eyes traveled up over the barrier—then around to the side, as Aegir appeared in a flash. Predictable. She blocked his strike, and for a moment, their two weapons struggled against each other, sparks lighting from the contact.

Aegir bared his teeth in a snarl—and then his eyes slid to the right. He moved, spinning to catch another errant Keyblade, completing the rotation and catching a second at his other side. He kicked backwards, trying to keep up with the wielders that attacked him. "Is this your game, Frigga? Is the only way you can defeat me by out numbering me?"

"This is not a sanctioned fight, Aegir," Frigga responded calmly. And then she smiled, and she could feel the sardonic curl to her lips. "Besides, I believe we both learned that you cannot rely on having the numbers advantage. Darkness hardly plays fair, after all."

The shadows seemed to twist as Aegir neared them, something almost hissing beneath his feet. With a roar he slammed his Keyblade into the ground. Jagged spikes of earth burst from the point of impact; the other wielders she'd brought scrambled to get away, shouting in alarm.

"You're very quick to destroy your home," Frigga said, voice rising above the chaos. "I thought these things brought you value?"

Aegir glared at her from behind the stony spires, eyes glinting furiously.

A flash of magic. Aegir's eyes flicked to the side, and then he leapt away, escaping the barrier that had nearly encircled him.

"Aegir," Osmin shouted, "come quietly. This display is embarrassing—especially for a member of our family."

"You say that like it means anything to you." Aegir flickered; Frigga moved before he did, stepping into the area right beside Osmin. Her swing was timed near-perfectly, hitting Aegir and sending him flying as he teleported in front of Osmin; Osmin stepped easily out of range, swinging his Keyblade around and aiming another barrier spell. This one worked; Aegir crashed against the back, bouncing off and hitting the bottom with a solid thud! He pushed himself up, magic flaring wild inside the barrier. Cracks formed along the edges, and Osmin hissed quietly, lifting his Keyblade and trying to steady it.

Frigga swept her Keyblade to the side. Glowing chains emerged from the ceiling, the floor, the walls, all streaking towards Osmin's barrier.

It wasn't quite enough; the barrier shattered, and the chains wrapped around empty air.

"Osmin," Frigga warned.

"I know."

Aegir emerged, if only briefly, from the shadows, his Keyblade swinging wild towards Osmin's head. He ducked, sweeping his Keyblade around in a parry—but then Aegir was gone again, disappearing back into the darkness. "You would rather let our family fall apart, content with inaction."

Another flicker. Frigga turned, catching the Keyblade and parrying it; a burst of ice flew over her shoulder, cold against her cheek. Aegir was gone in an instant, kicking away as one of the other wielders swung their Keyblade down.

Frigga's eyes narrowed. "Regroup," she ordered, and Osmin acted almost instantly, stepping into place as Frigga turned her back to the room. The other wielders clustered around, blades towards the wall.

A shadow near the door; Osmin flicked his blade, and a near-transparent barrier scattered across the floor, rising up to block the door, the windows. An angry hiss of breath, Aegir dipping into hiding again.

"There's nowhere for you to go, Aegir," Frigga called. "If you want to continue doing this the hard way, we can—but it would be better for you to surrender."

A tap of footsteps—just briefly, something moving quickly from the left, aiming towards one of the wielders Frigga had brought with her. Frigga turned, firing a spell at the spot, forcing Aegir to parry. It gave the wielder the opportunity to strike, kicking forward and making a quick two-strike blow that nicked Aegir's arm. He ducked away, dipping back into hiding.

You've always been stubborn. She shook her head, then lifted Master's Defender. A burst of light illuminated the room, and Aegir flinched backward. Unfortunately, there isn't anywhere for you to run. She flicked her Keyblade, and the other wielders spread out, surrounding Aegir—but Aegir was moving, even temporarily blinded, a massive burst of fire spiraling around him and forcing the wielders back with shouts of alarm.

Osmin moved through it, unfazed, a barrier lifting around him to keep him safe from the flames. He crashed into Aegir, using the barrier to protect him from the other wielder's strike, swinging his own weapon around to fire off a close-range spell. He kicked away as Aegir gave a hiss of pain, his opponent's weapon sweeping towards him.

Aegir was persistent, chasing his target down with broad, powerful strikes. He was fast, and strong—but he was still outnumbered, and Frigga stepped up behind him, chains rattling from Master Defender's tip.

Clang! The glowing chains wrapped around Aegir's blade as he swung around to defend himself. He kept spinning, using the momentum to try and drag Frigga forward. His free hand extended, and his Keyblade flashed into it, free again.

Frigga didn't resist; as Aegir pulled her forward, she let him, dropping the spell and using her momentum to make her attack a little stronger, the blade coated in light. The shaft of her blade hit Aegir's, knocking it off-course and spinning around it, aiming for Aegir's chest. His free hand reached out, wrapping around Master's Defender—and to her surprise, he tugged her closer. What is he…?

A flicker of metal close to her head. She ducked, releasing Master's Defender and spinning away, and Aegir's Keyblade flashed through the area where she once stood. Magic was harder to form in her bare hands, but not impossible, and a fireball flickered into existence, burning in her palm. She forced it towards Aegir, who blocked it easily, flames crackling around the edges of his Keyblade.

Aegir shifted his stance. He still had a hold of Master's Defender, Frigga realized; he was looking at it with a strange expression, and he turned to her slowly, lips curling. "You still think you're worthy to wield this?"

Frigga narrowed her eyes and extended her hand. Master's Defender came easily, and Aegir didn't try to resist. "Did you think it would choose you instead?"

Aegir kicked towards her—and then was forced to abruptly change tact, dodging away from a wielder at his left, swinging his weapon in a wide arc to keep them at bay. He moved, in constant motion as he dodged around the room, the others on his heels.

Osmin stepped up beside Frigga as she tracked Aegir, his Keyblade still held at the ready. "He must know there's no way out of this," he murmured. "The council knows. Even if he runs, it'll be made public knowledge."

"If he runs, he can sabotage us. Besides, he's never quite known when to give up."

Osmin gave a quiet, almost amused huff. "Couldn't make it easy for us."

"He never can. To your left."

Osmin blocked the blow, sweeping the blade aside and side-stepping his opponent. Frigga stepped into the place where he'd been, Master's Defender lifted for a spell. Aegir skidded around her side, and Frigga followed, easily twisting her weapon so that it moved to block Aegir's attack instead. One of the others slipped behind him, and he gave an animalistic sort of growl as he called an Aeroga spell, forcing them back and launching himself into the air.

Frigga tracked his movement. He wouldn't stay in the air long—had enough training that he'd be able to recover, even if he was attack. But— "Osmin. Catch him."

Half a barrier spell formed in front of Aegir almost instantly. Aegir twisted, ready to hit it and kick away—right into Frigga's spell, launched so close that it would be near-impossible to dodge. Aegir grunted, thrown off course, disoriented for half a moment, and Frigga took her chance; magic poured into her legs, giving her the strength and speed she needed to cross the distance, chains wrapping tight around Aegir before he could react. He hit the ground, and the chains rattled with the movement. He was already moving, trying to struggle to his feet—but Frigga stepped into place, the tip of her weapon resting lightly underneath his chin.

His face twisted in fury. He looked up, slowly, towards Frigga, hands twitching helplessly, Keyblade trapped by his side.

Frigga tilted her head. "Is this not the first time you've been in this position today, Aegir?"

"You would really turn against your own family?"

"Never. But perhaps we disagree on what's best for our family."

Frigga could hear the others approaching behind her, catching them in her peripherals as they slowly spread out around Aegir. His eyes flicked to them, and it seemed, for a moment, like he'd finally, finally accepted defeat; realized it was a useless fight, and decided it would be simpler to simply allow himself to be taken in.

"You put up a fair fight, against the odds," Frigga said. "You'll still be given fair processing—"

"Against the Union Leaders? No. I don't think so." A bitter sort of smirk curled his face. "Is that why you won't strike me down? Because you know I won't be a problem before too long."

"Aegir—"

His Keyblade moved. Frigga reacted on instinct, throwing up a barrier—but it wasn't quick enough to shield the others.

The whole world seemed to slow. She heard Osmin's quiet curse, his attempted shout of, "Sto—" before he froze, limbs locked in place.

Aegir moved, surging to his feet, and Frigga narrowed her eyes; the chains went slack for a moment, but she stepped aside, ready to draw them tight again.

It took her a moment to realize he hadn't been aiming at her.

Aegir tackled Osmin, swinging the loose chains around him; as Frigga moved to tighten them, they wrapped around both wielders, and Frigga hissed and dropped the spell, kicking forward.

She wasn't quick enough; Aegir's Keyblade lifted, and with a sharp crack! he swung it into the back of his head, and Frigga's ears rang. A spell fired blindly, forcing him away from her friend; a frantic Curaga flashed, haloing her friend, and she stood over him, weapon lifted protectively.

It wasn't until she heard shattering glass that she realized what Aegir's plan was. Without Osmin, the barrier couldn't hold—and Aegir was free to run. He'd taken the most immediate route, leaping out the window; Frigga hurried to the window's edge, watching as Aegir hit the ground and hurried across the estate's grounds. If I don't follow now, I'll lose track of him—and who knows what he'll be able to do then?

She hesitated for half a moment, glancing back at a fallen Osmin. She'd cast a powerful enough healing spell. He should be…okay. She was reluctant to leave him, but— I need to make sure Aegir isn't a threat.

Decision made, she leapt out the window, using magic to soften her fall and chase after Aegir.

---

-"Got you!"

A burst of color exploded near Kvasir's feet, and he stumbled backward, surprised.

Skuld grinned mischievously, Keyblade lifted.

Kvasir laughed, sending another spell back her way. It went wide, hitting a tree instead, and Brain snorted. "You could aim a bit better."

"Who's side are you on?" Skuld protested, but she was still smiling.

"Mimir," Kvasir said, turning, "let's—" He broke off, that strange, twisting feeling tangling in his stomach again as he looked at Mimir. He turned away just as sharply.

(Don't look. It hurts less if you don't look.)

He charged after the others, laughing, and the unease faded, drifting to the back of his mind, barely acknowledged.

It was…nice, here. Calmer. It was better than—

He couldn't remember—but surely, if it mattered, he'd know, right?

"Enjoying your time with your friends, Kvasir?"

He slowed, turning with a grin. "Unc—"

He paused. Something like uneasy twisted in his chest. A chill went down his spine, and for a moment, the world looked…darker. Aegir was standing in front of him, the same as he'd always been, but there was—there was something wrong. Something that itched at the back of his mind and said that he should be running; should be protecting—

Someone.

(There was a flicker of movement nearby; he thought he could see Mim—someone. It didn't matter. He didn't want to look. Didn't want to think about it.

Besides, that little creature from before was right there, sitting next to them. If something was wrong, it'd help. It was fine.)

"Is something wrong, Kvasir?"

Kvasir blinked, feeling strangely off-kilter. "I—it's nothing, Uncle." He shook his head, and blinked, because—because it was nothing, right? There wasn't anything wrong.

…He didn't want there to be anything wrong.

"Kvasir!" Skuld called. "Is everything okay?"

Aegir looked behind him, and Kvasir had the strange urge to block his view, but—but that was ridiculous, wasn't it? He didn't need to protect his friends from his uncle. "Everything's fine!" he answered. "My uncle just came to visit."

Skuld made a noise of acknowledgement, but she didn't seem worried, and Kvasir suddenly felt foolish for being worried.

"Come sit with me, Kvasir," Aegir said.

"Where will we—" But as he said it, he noticed there were chairs. He didn't think they'd been there before; not until he'd thought about them.

…He had to be imagining it. His uncle must've brought the chairs.

Kvasir settled, and Aegir sat beside him. Something jumped in Kvasir's lap, and he started—but it was just the little creature from before, curling into a more comfortable position. Kvasir smiled softly, placing a hand on their head.

(But…weren't they supposed to be with Mim—)

(Don't think about it don't don't don't—)

"Is everything alright, Kvasir?"

He blinked, giving his uncle a startled looked.

Aegir studied him. "You seem troubled."

Kvasir gave an awkward sort of laugh, rubbing the back of his head. "It's—it's nothing, Uncle. I'm worrying over nothing."

Aegir didn't say anything at first. He turned, looking towards where Skuld and Brain were talking, and Kvasir scratched the little creature in his lap, silently chastising himself for how silly he was being. There wasn't anything wrong here; it was fine.

"Do you remember when you were a boy," Aegir asked, startling him, "and you tried to hide that you broke that expensive vase in my study?"

Kvasir could feel his whole face heating. "Ah. That was—I was really very little—"

"And when I found out, do you remember what happened?"

Kvasir did; he smiled softly, something easing. "You explained that I might have to help you fix it, but you weren't really angry about it."

"You can tell me anything, Kvasir. No matter what you think is wrong."

He could. He knew that. He— "I'm being silly."

The creature rolled, pawing at his hand, and Kvasir found himself smiling. It was…nice here, just the four of them—five, he guessed, if he counted the little creature in his lap. He didn't know what he was so worried about.

But— "I just…didn't think you got along with Brain and Skuld."

"What would give you that impression?"

His face grew hotter, and Kvasir stammered. "W-well—there's—"

(Someone said you did something awful.)

The silence lengthened, and in it, Aegir said, "I don't always get along with everyone, Kvasir, but that doesn't mean I would wish them ill."

"Right," Kvasir said, and there was something relieved in it. "Right." He knew that was it; he knew he was just worrying over nothing. All he had to do was talk to his uncle, and everything would turn out alright.

That's how it had worked before.

Kvasir settled back in the chair, feeling more at-ease. Aegir sat with him, and watched as Kvasir's friends continued their game. They were down one player, but that was alright—it would make things more fair if there was an even number—

But—wait. Wasn't there…?

"Kvasir?" Aegir asked again, but Kvasir had stilled, head tilted.

He was—his friends were—still here. His friends—Brain and Skuld.

…Wasn't there someone else?

Kvasir blinked, and for a moment, the world seemed…strangely off-kilter. "Uncle," he said, that queasy feeling in his stomach again, "didn't I have…three friends?"

Underneath his hand, the little creature stilled.

"You can have as many friends as you like," Aegir replied easily. "You're friendly enough for it."

"No, there was—I already have another friend."

Aegir tilted his head towards Kvasir, expression flickering with something he couldn't place, and for a moment—

For a moment, he wasn't there. For just a moment, he was back in an old, abandoned mansion, staring at his uncle, the older wielder wearing an expression Kvasir wasn't used to, asking him about—

The world looked darker, somehow. Kvasir's head hurt; he felt like he was going to be sick, and he looked away sharply, closing his eyes and trying hard to breathe.

"Don't worry about it, Kvasir. It'll only cause you pain, in the end."

"You don't have to think about it." The little creature was speaking now, pawing gently at his hand. "You can stay here forever, and play with your friends. That's all you want, right? To be happy with the people you love?"

He did. He really, really did, and it was so tempting not to think about it; to turn away, and pretend he didn't know anything, but—

"Mimir," he breathed, the name clicking back into place, and it felt like he'd been dunked under cold water. Mimir. Mimir, Mimir, they were missing, they were the reason he and the others were here in the first place—

His uncle was looking at him now, expression darkening slowly. The world was darkening with it, the plants shriveling up, wind stirring brittle leaves.

Kvasir stared at him, and it felt like something was dropping out from underneath him. His memories were coming back, in bits and pieces. The assassin. Mimir's disappearance. And—

"I don't want it to be true," Kvasir breathed, voice shaking and eyes burning. "I don't want—I love my family. I—"

"You don't have to worry about it," Aegir said, voice gentle. "You never worried about it before. You were happier, not knowing. All you have to do is put it out of your mind. Turn a blind eye and continue on with your life. It wouldn't be hard—and you could get the best of both worlds."

"But—Mimir. When I didn't—I didn't know. I didn't know, and that's why they're—"

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Kvasir's eyes snapped downward. He didn't remember standing, but apparently he had, at some point, dropping the little creature to the ground. It still looked the same—but he was suddenly, acutely aware of the giant, sharp teeth filling its mouth. "Knowing the truth."

He looked at his uncle, and like the world was responding to his thoughts, the environment shifted, placing him in a familiar garden, some of his cousins running in the background, other family members chatting with each other.

"Uncle, uncle, look!"

And—and that was him, younger with a gap-toothed smile, small bird cupped in his hands, hurrying towards Aegir and breaking up his conversation. His uncle paused, eyes hard until he noticed who was talking to him. His expression softened slightly, and he bent nearer to him. "What do you have, Kvasir?"

"A bird! Look, look, look!" He lifted it higher, and then he frowned, giving it a worried look. "I think something's wrong with it, though."

"Oh?"

"Yeah! It was on the ground. So I thought maybe you could make it better? Since you have magic."

Aegir leaned a little closer, squinting. "Hmm. That looks like a fledgling. Nothing's wrong with it, Kvasir—it's just learning how to fly."

"Oh." His younger self looked at it with a complicated sort of expression. "What do I do with it?"

"Put it back where you found it; it needs to learn to fly on its own."

"Okay!"

Aegir ruffled his hair, and his younger self laughed. "That was very kind of you."

The younger Kvasir beamed, and he ran off, Aegir watching with a fond smile.

"He's very soft," someone said, and Kvasir snapped back to the adults in the conversation, that sinking feeling in his gut.

"It might serve him one day," Aegir said, something defensive in his tone. "It makes it easy for him to connect with people." He turned back to his conversation partners, expression falling into something harder. "Everyone has their talents."

"Hmm. Well, so long as he doesn't cause problems."

"There are people on the council who would prefer to avoid conflict. I can get him a position there easily. It would be a nice smokescreen, and put him in a position where he would be…less likely to have to deal with the harder parts of reality."

"Hardly. You're simply soft on the boy."

Kvasir couldn't listen over the ringing. I don't want to see this, he thought, and the world went blurry, voices fading into the distance.

…He wondered how many other memories were like this. How often his uncle had smiled at him, then turned around to make plans behind his back. How often he'd used him for his own plans, without his knowledge.

(He thought he'd been valued. He thought he'd been where he was because he was worth something, but all this time—)

A weight landed on his shoulder—the creature, small paws tucked carefully underneath it. "All those memories—tainted."

"That's not fair," Kvasir whispered. "You could at least let me have this."

"That's the horrible truth, isn't it? That people can be both kind and cruel, in equal measure. That someone can love you—truly and honestly—but that they can also do horrible things to other people. Sometimes, in the name of protecting you."

Kvasir sucked in a breath, and it shuddered behind his ribcage, rattling as he breathed.

"But it's easy to pretend. All you have to do is look away. Avoid the whispers. Put thoughts of your family out of your mind—"

"And lose my friends." Kvasir blinked rapidly, feeling like something was caught in his throat. "Skuld and Brain—they wouldn't forgive me, if I looked away knowingly. And Mimir—how am I supposed to go back after what happened to them?"

"You could make new friends. Look."

The image swept away, and for a moment, he saw himself older, laughing with a group of other council members. He watched them—he watched himself, watched as his older self paused, giving a brief, almost queasy look towards his uncle as he passed, then seemed to make a conscious decision to turn away, smiling and laughing just as easily as he had before.

(He'd been put in the Exploration department to—to train under Meili. To replace Meili. Where were they, if he was here?)

"Look how happy you are," the creature whispered.

"But—the others—"

"Can fend for themselves. Would it really matter, if you chose to look away? What does it really benefit you to know? It's so much easier, to pretend."

It was so, so tempting—tempting enough that something in Kvasir's chest ached. He knew intrinsically that, somewhere, there was probably a world where he agreed—a world where he caved, and he went back to his life, and he distanced himself from the others and pretended that everything was okay, and if there was a slightly queasy feeling every time he saw one his family members or former friends, then it was easy to ignore. The realization gnawed on him—just how much he wanted to give up everything and go back to the way things were before.

Kvasir took a steadying breath and closed his eyes—and when he opened them again he looked at the creature, trying to ignore the way something in him was screaming, don't don't don't just let it go— "Where's Mimir?"

The little creature tilted its head, ears flicking like it wasn't quite sure what he was asking. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"I—I need to find them. That's what I came here to do." He blinked, and for a moment, he was looking at his uncle instead, and he tried not to think about how uneasy that made him. "Where," he repeated, "is Mimir?"

The little creature didn't react at first—and then, slowly, it smiled, those jaws stretching too wide, jagged teeth gleaming. The world crumbled around him, walls crashing down with huge, booming thuds, the earth shaking underneath his feet, and Kvasir stumbled as he tried to keep his balance.

Something rose in the distance—a twisted hill of thorns, a familiar shape trapped inside of them.

Kvasir's stomach lurched. "Mimir!"

He started forward, but before he could get very far, something clamped around his leg. He screamed, pain throbbing deep through his bones.

The creature held him fast, teeth digging deep into his skin. It tugged him backward with surprising strength, no matter how hard he struggled to reach his friend. "You were the one who got them into this situation," they said, and their innocent voice had turned into something closer to a growl. "Are you sure you want to acknowledge that? That you were the one who led to their capture?"

"It's not going to get better if I ignore it," he said, hand straining to reach towards his friend. "It's not going to save them."

The deep dug deeper, and he screamed, dragged to the ground, his fingers clawing through the dirt. The peaceful world had peeled away, bright skies transforming to red, storm-covered expanses, stream sluggish and muddied, the scent of decay filling his nose.

"Are you prepared to fight your family? What are you going to do, knowing what they've done?"

Kvasir's breath hissed through his teeth. Mimir was still there—silent, trapped in that hill of thorns, and Kvasir tried to drag himself towards them. "Mimir!"

A heavy weight pressed onto his back. Something wet dripped onto the back of his neck, and giant teeth snapped near his ear. "Do you really think you can handle this? Go back home, little boy; close your eyes and keep pretending, like you've always done before."

Kvasir gritted his teeth. With a shout he twisted, Keyblade flashing into his hand, and the little creature screeched as the weapon hit it, cracking against its teeth.

Kvasir didn't stop to see if the creature was gone; he was free now, and he scrambled to his feet and sprinted towards the hill of thorns. "Mimir!"

He nearly crashed into it, hissing as he fingers pricked on sharp edges. He didn't let it stop him; he started hacking at the edges, tearing with his hands, staring desperately at his friend. "Come on. You need to wake up. Help me get you out of here."

Mimir didn't respond.

The thorns crumbled under his assault. He thought he could see Mimir's legs and feet, through the mass. "I'm sorry," he breathed, tearing at another barrier. "I'm sorry. It's my fault this happened. I'm going to do better. I'm going to try, but you need to wake up so we can get you out of here, please."

Mimir's eyelids flickered, and Kvasir paused for a moment, practically flooded with relief. He thought, for the briefest moment, he could see them smile.

And then the thorns started growing.

"Wha—no. No, no, no, no, no—Mimir!" He slashed at the thorns, but they pushed him back, back, rising and curling over Mimir's head, dragging them down— "No!"

He lunged; his hands hit the dirt, Keyblade clattering uselessly beside him. He started digging, clawing at the ground like it would give him his friend back, but no matter how far he dug, he couldn't seem to find the thorns again.

No no no no no—

Kvasir's eyes burned. He bent over himself, dirty, bloody fingers digging into the ground. "I'm sorry," he breathed. "I'm sorry."

The world had grown strangely quiet. For a moment, the only thing he could hear was himself, sobbing helplessly where he'd fallen. Mimir was gone. They were—

But—but weren't we all supposed to face Darkness alone before we found Mimir?

The thought made him still. That was—that was right. Darkness said that they would face all of them individually. So—

So Mimir might still be out there.

Kvasir took a deep breath and sat back on his heels. The world was still dark and gray, but it seemed less dangerous, now. He forced himself to his feet, looking.

The creature wasn't around anymore—but maybe it'd still hear him, if he asked the right question. "Where is Mimir?" he asked, voice steady.

The world rippled. Part of the sky parted, spreading outward to create a sort of pathway. It was…more than a little ominous, dark and shrouded in mist—but then, he guessed that maybe that made sense, given where he was.

Kvasir took a steadying breath—and then he ran, darting down the path. I'm coming, Mimir. Hang on.

---

-Tap-tap-tap. Frigga's footsteps pounded against the ground, moving, moving, moving as she tried to keep up with Aegir. They'd left the estate, Scala's streets rising around them, the sun setting slowly beyond the edges of the buildings and painting everything in a faint, blood-red glow. I need to stop him before he gets too far.

Master's Defender lifted. Chains flew from the end, streaking across the street to Aegir's retreating back.

A swing of a blade; a flicker of a barrier. The chains crashed against the glowing purple spell as Aegir turned, arcing wildly. Aegir leapt, sweeping down another street, and Frigga moved to intercept him. Chains arced around the corner, stretching for the flicker of Aegir's coattails. Aegir leapt up a building, magic-fueled jumps carrying him onto the balcony, the roof, and Frigga's spell followed him, slithering over the surface like snakes and coiling at the top. Aegir leapt above them, dodging the ends as they coiled into a tight knot. A spell flew from his blade in an arc, slamming the chains downward, and Frigga released the spell to prevent them from crashing into the building.

Frigga tsked, watching as Aegir leapt from roof to roof, steadily moving further away from his estate. Someone watched, wide-eyed, from their balcony, blinking first at Aegir, and then at Frigga in the street below. If I follow him, more people will see us fighting. We don't need faith in our family shaken even further.

…But if I don't follow him, he escapes, and gets exactly what he wants.

Frigga kicked into motion, chasing after the fleeing figure. More chains followed, but Aegir leapt out of reach, fleeing to a rooftop out of view, and Frigga was forced to weave through the streets, tracking him across alleyways, firing spell after spell to try and force him down. But Aegir had the terrain advantage; he simply needed to flee, not fight, and Frigga needed to be careful to prevent potential damage to the buildings—or, in some cases, the citizens of Scala ad Caelum themselves.

There were more of them, now; the day was nearing its end, and even if they were still mostly on backstreets, some people were walking down them, talking to each other or trying to make their way home for the day. Some people paused to watch the person hopping across the rooftops, but in a city of Keyblade wielders, it wasn't the strangest sight in the world to see someone running across buildings. It was a significantly stranger occurrence for the Head of the Council to be following him, Keyblade out and glowing with magic. She dodged around people, and she'd hear them yelp, a "Watch where you're—" cut off as the speaker realized who they were yelling at.

Another spell. Another set of chains, arcing up over the rooftops. A barrier blocked them this time; it flickered as the chains crashed into it, and Frigga twisted her blade, swinging the chains around the back. Aegir kicked backwards, heading back the way he'd come. He glanced back towards the chains, lip curled, and then down, to the street below. Some expression Frigga couldn't identify flashed across his face, and abruptly he changed course, weapon whipping around. A spell flew wide—a large arc of fire, scattering across the street.

Frigga cursed quietly; the chains fell, and a barrier went up instead, covering the entire street. People shouted in alarm, ducking; the fire collided with her barrier, cascading onto the cobblestones, small sparks catching the buildings. "Find a wielder," Frigga shouted at the nearest person. "Spread the word—tell them to watch for damage and keep everyone safe."

"Master Frigga?" some asked, choked.

She didn't stop to see if they listened; whatever else needed to be said could be said later, once she'd caught up to Aegir. She shot after him, shouting, "That was underhanded, Aegir."

She thought she heard low murmurs—people questioning the name, questioning what was happening, and she tried not to think of the repercussions of it.

Aegir, surprisingly, stayed quiet, he cast her a sideways look, then sent another spell her way, fire bursting from the tip of his blade.

Another barrier blocked the blow, and Frigga's lip curled. "Are you not concerned with protecting the citizens you want to lead?"

Another spell—ice, this time, coating the street, and Frigga finally leapt above it, joining Aegir on the rooftops. This is why I was chosen instead of you, she thought. You never had the head for leading. You know how to protect yourself; you can't think of the long term. Do you really think anyone will accept you, if they know you were willing to sacrifice them? Do you really think you can lead if there is no one left to lead?

(She thought she could hear something—the slow dripping of water, hitting her ears in a steady rhythm. The shadows seemed to be glowing closer as the sun set, creeping over the rooftops after them as they ran.)

Aegir turned, Keyblade lifted and eyes narrowed, and a Thunder spell crashed overhead—not enough to cause much damage, but enough to distract. Master's Defender spun overhead, barrier flashing into place and catching the spell; she swung the weapon in an arc, turning it to send another spell his way—Blizzard, this time, to hopefully catch and hold without posing a danger to anything else. A Fire spell collided with it, creating a brief smokescreen that let Aegir disappear from Frigga's line of sight momentarily.

A flicker to her right—a familiar figure, dipping down below the rooftops and onto the streets again. Frigga followed, casting a barrier spell to prevent Aegir from slipping away. He barely slowed, swinging in a different direction and scrambling back over the buildings, forcing Frigga to give chase again.

No Stop spells, Frigga thought, eyes narrowed as she followed him. He hasn't seemed concerned about citizens getting caught in his attacks. She leapt from one roof to the next; she heard people shouting from below, and distantly, she crowd was starting to follow them, people slowly stepping out of their homes and stopping their day-to-day activities as word spread. If he wanted to escape me, then it seems like that would be the best choice.

…What is he playing at?

Another barrier, and another; she wasn't as good at them as Osmin, but was acceptable enough to, hopefully, force Aegir into a better direction. Unfortunately, the rooftops had little she could use to assist her, letting him launch himself higher before she could finish her spell. I need to get him back onto the streets. She paused her attacks, watching carefully; while Aegir made some attempt at throwing her off, leaping criss-cross between buildings, he was still heading doggedly in a single direction. It meant it wasn't hard to predict where he might go next, and she moved Master's Defender to aim just slightly ahead of his projected path, firing a Blizzard spell.

Aegir turned, but too late; the spell crashed into him, and Frigga heard his grunt of pain as he fell. She moved quickly, a burst of magic sending her flying; with a flick of her blade a barrier spell covered the opening back to the rooftops. Another flick, and she'd blocked the way to the streets.

Aegir was recovering, now, eyes flicking warily towards the barrier above and in front of him. Frigga expected him to try and retreat, and she cast a barrier spell to block his path in response.

He didn't. Instead, he threw himself through the nearest window. Shouts came from inside, and Frigga cursed under her breath, shooting across the top of the building and throwing a barrier up along its edge.

With a shattering of glass Aegir burst out the other side, taking off down the street with a burst of magic-enhanced speed.

Slowly, Frigga's magic turned the streets of Scala ad Caelum into a maze. Aegir would turn down one street, then be forced to change directions just as a barrier erupted in front of him. Another street, another barrier; pathways disappeared, blocked from behind and in front and to the side, Frigga carefully trying to herd him away from the busier streets—towards areas where their fighting might not be as noticed, and where she'd have to worry less about collateral damage. But she was starting to feel the strain on her magic, her breathing a little harder as she chased after her opponent, and the sight of Keyblade wielders fighting in the streets was slowly drawing people closer, regardless of what she did. It was almost unheard of, for people to fight within Scala; it hadn't happened in years, and people peaked out of windows, whispering at the edges of streets, drawn in by a grim fascination. Their shadows stretched long, cast over the streets and the watching people. Frigga only spared them a brief glance, ignoring the way that, if she looked carefully, the shadows almost seemed to move.

A shingle shifted under her foot as she landed. She caught herself almost instantly, throwing herself to the next rooftop—but it only took one mistake for your opponent to take advantage of you. Her barrier went up, fragile, and Aegir crashed through it, Keyblade cutting through it as he headed out onto the main streets. Frigga threw herself after him, but he was in the crowd, now, and attacking him without hurting anyone else would be much harder. And much harder to keep track of him, she thought grimly, trying to pick him out from above. It'd be easy for him to lose me, if he wanted to. And then this would be for nothing.

Aegir glanced up at her. His eyes narrowed, but his lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smile. He didn't attack; he didn't try and duck away somewhere he could hide. Instead, he made a steady path down the street, weaving through the crowd, who dodged out of his way with sounds of surprise. Where is he…?

The Clock Tower appeared in the distance, and it dawned on Frigga moment later where Aegir was likely going—and then suddenly she was moving faster, desperate to keep him from making it to his destination, one final, frantic barrier spell thrown into place. People scrambled away from it, scattering to the edges of the street—but it'd gone up too slow to stop Aegir, a final burst of magic sending him flying past the barrier just as it went up. Frigga found herself crashing into her own spell, panting, fingers splayed against the semi-transparent surface as Aegir ran. She swung Master's Defender, releasing the spell, and raced after him.

The Founder's Plaza was rarely empty, save for the deepest hours of the night. Most people wanted to ask their founder for luck, or spend time with their loved ones, or simply enjoy a nice day in an open, welcoming area.

The plaza was strangely empty now. No one stepped near the fountain; a crowd gathered around the edges, hemming the plaza like an arena. The only one who stood there was Aegir, watching calmly, like he'd just been waiting for her to arrive.

Frigga pushed her way through the crowd, shouting, "Aegir—"

He lifted his chin, and his voice rose over hers: "I'm challenging you for leadership of Scala ad Caelum."

---

-The world had gone strangely quiet, save for a low, buzzing hum. Brain could still see Ephemer and the shadow over his shoulder, watching. They were waiting—waiting for him to answer, or do something, probably, but when he tried to find the words, he lost track of them. All he could do was stare, trying to put his scrambled thoughts into some sort of order.

Ephemer smirked, and the creature leaned a little closer, hands braced on his shoulders. "Where are your clever words now, Little Light?" It crawled over Ephemer's shoulder, seemingly unnoticed—it was making its way closer to Brain now, and he couldn't even bring himself to flinch away. "Always so confident, so composed—right until the moment it's needed most."

One spindly finger tilted Brain's chin upwards. Up close, he could hear the creature's breathing—heavy and ragged, bones rattling like at any moment it would fall apart. "But I suppose this isn't the first time that's happened, is it?"

It felt like he was back there again—back in the lifeboat chamber, mind spinning as his plans crumbled through his hands, frantically searching for something, anything that he could use to salvage the situation, and slowly realizing he was coming up empty. You failed, you failed, and you're going to fail again—

A horrible sort of chittering, gnawing sound crawled through his ears, and his eyes snapped to the creature's hollow chest cavity. Those strange insects were still crawling over rotted organs and old bones; a distant part of him made dull, half-frantic observations, that he wasn't sure what the insects were, that they were slowly chewing through the shadowy creature's flesh, that—

That…eventually. If they kept going. There wouldn't be anything left of it.

He blinked, and suddenly, it felt like he had something to hold onto, and he grasped it tight. It's a waiting game, he thought and hoped and prayed. I just need to wait until this thing destroys itself.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes; the doll felt fragile in his hands, and he forced himself to ease his grip. Focus. Compartmentalize. You have friends waiting for you. It isn't telling you anything you don't already know.

"Can't come up with any new material, can you?" Brain asked, projecting more bravado than he felt. "Do you have any hobbies besides torturing people?"

A skeletal grin stretched across the creature's face. "You humans are always so…fascinating, in how you choose to deal with us." It curled around Brain before he could react, grabbing his chin and jerking his head upward—and suddenly he wasn't looking at Ephemer anymore, but his statue, weathered and worn. The streets shifted, broken buildings taking on a distinctly different look, rotted flower beds lining the streets, a breeze blowing through hollow buildings, and something in Brain's stomach curled. "What will you do, Little Light? How much would it take to make you fall?" A laugh by his ear, surprisingly giddy and sincere. "There is so much to pick at in you. The way you work and work and work like you can outrun your guilt if you just do enough—like if you just do the right thing, find the right solution, your survival will be worth it. Like somehow you can make up for everything you've lost."

Brain swallowed tightly. He breathed in slowly, and breathed out. Just outlast it. The longer it talks, the longer it's distracted.

The creature's muzzle brushed against his ear; its teeth pricked the skin, and he forced himself not to flinch away. "And really, that's why you want to find that box, isn't it? If you can lock us away permanently, maybe you can find absolution.

"But I will tell you a secret, Little Light." The creature's voice dropped to a whisper, and its muzzle poked his cheek, knocking his chin. "It will never be enough. You will never be able to run fast enough to escape me. Every move you make, it will always feel like you should be doing something more. Create more Spirits or spells or enchanted items until your magic runs dry. Give more of yourself until you do not sleep or eat. Try to save more people and worlds and, inevitably, fail, over and over again. You will wake up and repeat this cycle, again and again and again, until one day you don't wake up at all." It pulled away a little, but Brain remained frozen; it felt like those things in the creature's chest were inside him now, slowly chewing through his stomach. "You can never fix what you have lost. You can never bring the Dandelions back or restore Daybreak Town, no matter how many hours you pour into it. No matter what you do, you cannot absolve yourself of your failures. So tell me: What. Will. You. Do?"

Brain…thought he should answer, probably. But he didn't have one, so all he did was swallow tightly and hold himself still.

"No answer?" A shifting, and then the creature had slipped in front of him, head tilted as it watched him. "A pity. I thought you would be more interesting."

The creature moved, long, spindly arms reaching for something behind it. It tugged, metal grinding against bone, a long shaft pulled from sticking skin. Master's Defender emerged with a flick of the creature's hand, scattering tiny bits of liquid darkness across the broken streets. Slowly, the creature extended it towards him.

Brain held himself very, very still. He stared, trying to control his breathing, his eyes locked on Master's Defender.

The creature shook the weapon, and the keychain rattled. "Go ahead. Take it. It's yours, isn't it?"

Staring at the weapon made his stomach squirm. It felt like something was chewing through his skin, crawling over his ribs and up his throat. His fingers twitched, one hand lifting, reaching—

And stopping just short.

The world felt like it was closing in on him slowly. The rest of the city was…hazy. He couldn't breathe right; the sound echoed in his ears, his chest too tight to expand fully.

He turned away.

"Ah. What a pity." Master's Defender twisted, the tip forcing Brain's head back towards the creature, just a little, and he managed something he hoped was a glare. "Look how far the mighty Union Leader has fallen."

One breathe. Then another. His eyes lowered, a little, to the creature's stomach. Bits of flesh dropped away—tiny ash-like particles, scattering across the cobblestones. Those little insects were moving faster, now; they almost seemed to mirror the way he felt, fueled by the same squirming in his stomach.

Another breathe, and Brain's eyes lifted, meeting the creature's. "What are you?"

That skeletal grin stretched further. "You do not now? Come now, Little Light; I thought you were clever."

Brain breathed out slowly, eyes flicking away. "Guilt," he said, quiet. And then, even softer, "Mine."

"Very good." The words grated, patronizing, and Brain's mouth curled into a grimace. "Oh, don't make that face. We are the same, you and I."

Brain huffed. "I don't really make a habit of harassing people with their failings." His eyes flicked back down—back to the insects, eating their way through the creature's skin, and he took a deep breath. "But," he said, releasing it in a shaky exhale, "guess there's some things we have in common."

He thought of fighting Darkness in the Foretellers' Chamber, helpless to defeat them until Ven had stepped forward. He thought of standing in the lifeboat chamber, scrambling to figure out an answer and the slow, dawning horror that he wasn't going to be able to save them. He thought of his one, last-ditch-effort chance—staying behind, trying to get the Dandelions out, getting his friends to safety—and how he'd given it up because he was selfish, leaving Ephemer to stay behind again. He thought of it, and he felt like something was swallowing him whole, a sick, heavy, sticky feeling in his chest, a gnawing feeling in his stomach.

He watched as the insects moved faster. One rib cracked and broke, clattering against the ground, seemingly unnoticed.

"And what would that be, Little Light?"

Brain's eyes flicked back up to the creature's. "That we're both pretty fucking useless in the end."

The creature, to his surprise, laughed, sound low and wheezing, thread-bear body shaking with the effort. Master's Defender rattled, and it sounded like chains. "My, my. That's quite the comparison."

"Well, it seems pretty accurate, doesn't it? I couldn't get the Dandelions out. I left my friends behind. And you—well." He gestured, grinning grimly. "You can trap us here, but you can't really do anything to hurt us, can you? You can show us things, sure—but you can't touch us. You're too weak."

"There are many ways to hurt people, Little Light." And all of a sudden the creature was behind him, Master's Defender pressed up against his throat, the creature's long claws pressed against his chest. "You should know; you have been haunted for so long, after all."

His eyes flicked up to Ephemer's statue. It wavered, cracks running along the edges. Something cracked! and with a loud splitting noise, the statue moved, the head slowly turning towards him. Something in his chest seized, and he watched as the statue's arms moved, body slowly twisting in a strange, jerky sort of motion. The legs strained, and then broke away, the statue jumping down from its place on the fountain. Behind it, Brain thought he could see—something. A flicker of yellow eyes, see-through skin—ghosts, lining the edges of the plaza, watching him and murmuring quietly.

"Really?" Brain asked, but he could hear how his voice wavered. "Going to rely on old scare tactics?"

"I am not doing this, Little Light." Master's Defender pressed a little closer. "You have much more control over this place than you think you do."

The statue didn't move, but the ghosts did, edging closer, their whispers becoming louder.

"Help, please—"

"I want to go home…"

"Where are we? Where did the Union Leaders go?"

"This place," the creature whispered, "is made from your heart. Your mind. It shows you what you want to see, or what you fear." There was something like a grin in the creature's voice. "Does that mean you want to be punished, Little Light?"

One of the insects dropped onto Brain's shoulder. He flinched away from it, watching from his peripherals as it crawled back onto the creature's arm. There was a hole there now, something moving underneath it.

Brain closed his eyes and breathed deeply, glancing away. Just deal with it. Not much longer. Just deal with it.

(Lean into it.)

(I will do anything to—)

"I'd deserve it, wouldn't I?" He laughed, and there was something surprisingly real and bitter in it. "I left them."

(Did you not go through enough? something whispered, and his chest burned, the sting of a phantom Keyblade running through his ribs.)

"I left them all to die," he hissed, "and Ephemer couldn't figure out how to get them out. I left Ephemer to build this place on his own—and now I'm here, doing nothing but get in people's way."

Master's Defender rattled, and he tried to ignore the way it burned against his skin. The creature's fingers loosened around it, muscle wasting, and Brain swallowed and tried not to watch, staring at the ghosts instead.

"I haven't even tried to find them," he said. "I should be spending all my time trying to get them out—and then I should just leave. But all I can think about is—"

(He thought of Lauriam, giving him an exasperated smile as he slipped into the kitchen for another cup of coffee, or talking to him while he was working on Spirits. He thought of Ven, asking him about what he was reading, or trying to sneak to his room with cookies that Lauriam would definitely confiscate, if he had the chance. He thought of how badly he just wanted to go back, and—

And he thought about how selfish that was, because there were so many more people beyond them, and shouldn't he be giving everything he had to help them? He was given this one last chance; he shouldn't be wasting it.)

(All he wanted to do was rest.)

"But it's not like I can do anything, right?" he asked, voice breaking. "I've never been able to do anything when it actually mattered. I couldn't have built this place. I can't do anything about the council. Why would I think I even had a chance at getting them out?" He glanced down at Master's Defender, and something curdled in his chest. He shoved himself to his feet, pushing the creature's arm with such force that something snapped. Master's Defender clattered against the ground, and Brain forced himself not to look at it, bile in his throat. "Ava should've never given this to me. She…chose wrong."

(Something sat heavy as a stone in his chest. In the back of his mind's eye, he thought he could see shadows clawing at the edges of a stained glass platform. In his peripherals, the tips of his fingers looked almost red.)

"So that is your answer?" the creature asked, something almost amused. "How interesting."

Brain laughed, humorless, and the ghosts quieted, if only for a moment. "Well. Not quite. Pretty sure I can't actually do anything—but guess I should at least try, right? If I'm still here."

The creature looked amused—but it was still crumbling, dripping bits of itself onto the cobblestones, and Brain finally, finally, allowed himself a little grim amusement.

"But you know—maybe there is something I can do about you."

A confused head tilt, and Brain smirked, gesturing at the creature—and it looked down, finally, at the way its whole body had crumbled from underneath it, at the moth-eaten arms and missing fingers, and to his surprise it laughed, strangely joyful despite the circumstances. "So that is your choice, is it? Self-destruction for the sake of defeating us?"

"'Self-destruction' feels a little overblown. What's a little pain if it means getting out of your trap, yeah?" He narrowed his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets, the doll tucked carefully away. "I will do everything in my power to make sure you don't tear apart Scala like you did Daybreak Town—no matter what it costs me." He shrugged, and his smile turned sharp and bitter. "Got to live up to the legend, right? Suppose that's what heroes are supposed to do."

Another laugh, the creature crumbling until it was little more than a skull. "So clever—and yet you learn nothing. How fascinating." It made something squirm in Brain's stomach, and suddenly what remained of the creature was pressed close to his face, eyes gleaming. "But very well. You have found a way to defeat us, in a sense. You may go." The skull crumbled, and Brain stepped back, stumbling away from the ash. Those two glowing eyes remained for a brief moment, disappearing in a flicker. "We look forward to seeing what you'll do."

Scala's empty streets felt…cold. Brain stood there, watching and waiting uneasily, but the creature didn't come back.

It was…a victory, technically. But it didn't feel like one, his stomach still turned in knots, something too heavy in his chest. He rubbed his thumbs against his palms, and tried to ignore the way his fingertips felt too sharp, everything jittery and uncomfortable.

The silence stretched long, loud in his ears. The ghosts had gone back to the shadows, now, Ephemer's statue still watching. Master's Defender still lay abandoned on the street.

"Stop looking at me like that," Brain said.

The statue watched, unmoving.

Brain's jittery legs finally forced him to start pacing, turning circles around himself until he felt dizzy. "I need to find the others. We're here to get Mimir back. I can't leave them behind."

It felt like countless eyes were on him, watching from the edges of the street.

"What do you expect me to do? I can't just abandon them."

Another circuit. His hands felt like they were burning.

(He needed to—he needed to do something useful. He needed to protect them. He needed to keep them safe, he couldn't fail again, he needed to actually defeat Darkness this time he needed to know surviving was worth it—)

"The black box is…supposed to be here."

His pacing stopped, finally. It felt like something was holding him in place, his breath coming unsteady as he tried to focus.

"If I could find it…we could stop Darkness entirely. We could end this now—and the others wouldn't have to get involved."

Something in him, strangely, settled at the thought; he didn't feel better, exactly, but the gnawing feeling in his stomach slowed.

(How long before it comes back?)

He huffed, shaking his head. "Alright. That's…ridiculous. We're here for a reason."

But—

But the others could handle themselves. But if you have a chance to defeat Darkness—can you really ignore it?

(You owe it to them you have to do something—)

Brain huffed a laugh, and it felt painful in his throat. "Alright, Darkness. You said I have more control over this place than I thought? Let's test that."

He had no idea where the black box was—but the last place that he'd seen it was in the lifeboat chamber, behind Luxu as he stabbed a Keyblade through his chest. That would probably be the place to start looking.

Brain's eyes narrowed, head tilted skyward as he thought. Might not be a bad idea to have backup. If I'm going to find that.

…Do I really want to put them in danger?

Sigurd promised to help, something in him whispered, and the others will probably have a better chance of finding Mimir. You could at least make sure one of them got out.

Brain sighed, feeling it rattle his chest. He didn't have time to debate, really; if he planned on doing something, he needed to do it now. He turned glancing down the streets of Scala. He had no idea where Sigurd would be, so he just thought of him—of fighting him on that lone island, of Frigga sending him to spy—

(Of the occasional quiet conversations and concern he wasn't sure he deserved.)

The world parted, slowly, peeling away like paper. A pathway opened between the buildings, covered in mist, and Brain ran down it without a second thought.

---

-The silence was loud; it hung heavy in Frigga's ears, dropping around her as people waited, hushed, for her to respond.

Frigga wondered how she must look—panting and disheveled from chasing Aegir across town. Her magic was nearly spent—and it dawned on her, suddenly, that Aegir had probably planned that, too. He hadn't used many powerful spells; he'd have the advantage in a fight, now. And she—she looked like she was the one on edge, not him. Even if people had seen her chasing him—

I need to be careful.

"Well?" Aegir asked, lips finally twitching into a smirk. "What is your answer, Master Frigga?"

The title curled around her chest, and Frigga took a steadying breath and straightened, brushing her hair carefully out her face. "You," she said, "are a traitor, Aegir." She let the words hang; there would be consequences, she knew, but if Aegir wanted to force her hand—fine. She would try to salvage what she could. "You plotted to kill the Union Leaders and went behind our family's back to do it. There will be no challenge. You are not owed it."

The crowd was still, impossibly, silent. Aegir raised an eyebrow, spreading his arms and asking, "Where is your evidence?"

This, at least, she had an answer for, and she allowed herself a smile of her own. "One of your confidents told me. I believe you offered them a position as your right hand, should they help?"

Aegir's expression twisted in bemusement, and to her surprise, it almost looked genuine. "I never made that offer to anyone," he said, sounding mystified. "Who told you that?"

For the first time, she felt a flicker of doubt. "Meili—the Head of the Exploration department."

Aegir laughed, the sound incredulous. "Meili? The bastard blueblood? Do you think I would work with them?"

"They work closely with the Union Leaders—"

"And Kvasir was going to take over for them, wasn't he? Why would I chose them, and not him?"

And Frigga…didn't know what to say to that. Because he was right. But Meili wasn't wrong—Aegir really did try to—

It struck her, then. They're working with the Union Leaders. That's the only other way they would've known.

…Aegir isn't the only fool here, it seems.

"Should the Head of the Council really be making baseless accusations?" Aegir asked. "Especially against a former rival for her power?"

"The Union Leaders themselves can give us answers."

"And where are they now?" It was a familiar refrain, but less frantic, now, Aegir looking like he was, finally, completely in control. "Do you know?"

She didn't. Aegir would likely know better, but it was hard to accuse him of that now. "I don't control their every move, Aegir; they are allowed to do what they like."

"And that's how Master Brain caused such a stir on the outer islands, isn't it?"

Now she could hear it—a low, uncertain murmur, rising from the ring around them. Frigga's eyes slid to the crowd, and her hand tightened around Master's Defender.

"Tell me, Master Frigga," Aegir said, "what they would say about you."

…Neither of them were fond of her. If asked their opinion—they might not have anything good to say about Aegir, but they wouldn't have much to say about her, either.

She met Aegir's eyes slowly. He was grinning, something sharp in his expression. "It seems to me," he said, voice lifting, "like our leader is no longer capable of filling her position."

"Master's Defender still finds me worthy," she snapped, lifting it pointedly.

"Then prove it." Aegir lifted his Keyblade in response. "Prove that you are truly worthy of the position you hold."

…This had been his plan—put her in a position where she couldn't escape his challenge. If she backed out, then it would lend more credence to his claim. So I have to fight—even if he doesn't deserve the honor.

Frigga narrowed her eyes. "Very well." She lifted Master's Defender, took a breath, and reached for the words. "Master Aegir—is it your intention to contest my position as Head of the Council?"

"It is," Aegir answered, and the amusement that cross his face made her want to change her mind, despite the consequences.

"On what grounds do you pose this challenge?"

"On a growing inability to lead."

"And your terms?"

"Whoever wins will take over as Head of the Council."

Frigga lifted her chin. "Your challenge has been heard and accepted." She lifted Master's Defender, carefully sliding into a ready position. "As the challenger, you may have the first move."

Aegir inclined his head in acknowledgement—and then he was moving, shooting across the space until his Keyblade clashed against Frigga's. A parry, another, and then a quick sweep to force him backwards, Frigga flying after him. I have always been worthy, she thought, eyes narrowed at her opponent. We'll see where you fall.

---

-"Who are you?" Skuld repeated, a little sharper, a little more desperate, and took a step closer. "Where's Mimir?"

The girl flinched away, but something angry and familiar twisted her features, and she countered, stiffly, "Who are you? You look like me."

"No," Skuld snapped, but her eyes flicked over her face, scanning familiar features, face shape and eyes and hair, even if circumstances had altered them slightly. She tore her eyes away, focusing on anything, anything but the girl in front of her. She sucked in a breath, exhaling slowly and trying to calm the thump-thump-thump of her heart against her ribcage. "This is another trick by Darkness." She turned, closing her eyes against the shadows of the cell.

"You're just going to leave, too?" the girl called, and Skuld flinched, but didn't turn back. "Are you one of the scientists?"

Scientists…? No, no, don't think about it.

Back into the hall, where the shadows were deep but there were no strange specters wearing her face. Maybe it's like a maze, she thought, turning down another corridor, and pretending like she didn't feel something crawling up her spine, warm like fire. I just have to find the right door.

…She could feel the girl's eyes staring into her back, but she didn't follow her, and Skuld exhaled a long, shaky breath and tried not to think about her.

Her free hand ran along the wall. Starlight waved through the space in front of her, checking for anything that might spring out of the shadows—she had no idea what Darkness actually intended, after all, and she didn't want to be caught off guard. It was hard to tell how much time passed; the dark made it impossible to see, and everything felt sluggish, like something was washing against her legs and tugging her back. Eventually, though, she caught the flicker of something up ahead. Light. Does that mean—but it might be a trap, too. It didn't stop her from hurrying toward it, itching to maybe get out of this place—

It was a door. It was the same door that she'd opened, an almost imperceptible trickle of light coming from the still-cracked cell.

She stared at it blankly for a moment before she realized she must've just gone in one big circle. Maybe—maybe I need to get away from the walls. Maybe there's a path somewhere else.

Another flicker in the shadows; her Keyblade swung towards them, two glowing spots like embers, and the girl from the cell almost mirrored her, swinging into a defensive position that looked unstable and out of practice but still familiar. "You're back," the girl from the cell said, and she sounded faintly wary, like she thought this was some kind of trick—which didn't feel fair, because that's what Darkness was doing, even if she didn't understand why they'd show her something like this.

She decided not to answer, turning and heading back into the shadows, staying away from the walls.

This time, footsteps followed a hesitant half-beat later, bird-like and nervous. "Is this some sort of test?" she asked, and Skuld gritted her teeth. "Why did you open my cell?"

"I didn't know you were in there," Skuld snapped, despite herself, but there was something unnerving about hearing her own voice, raw from disuse, barking brittle, angry questions at her back. "I was looking for a friend."

Despite the darkness, she could still see her doppelganger's face, like it was highlighted by something beneath the skin. It hardened a little, a bitter sort of anger burning in her eyes that was achingly familiar. "So you would've just left me," she whispered, "if you'd known."

"No," she said, but looking at her specter, she didn't know if that was true; staring at her made her uneasy, and she kept having to turn away, eyes slipping away like they couldn't stay focused on a single point. "You could get out on your own." And—and this was just—a distraction. Darkness was trying to distract her. She needed to—keep going. And so she did, turning away from the faintly-glowing face and diving deeper into the shadows, Starlight extended warily.

"No I couldn't," her doppelganger said incredulously. "The door's locked from the outside."

"You have a Keyblade." You can't be that helpless, some part of her wanted to snap, and she swallowed the words back, ignoring the way they tasted like ash. You're—

She shut the thought down, and her Keyblade clanged almost instantly into a wall. There might be an opening. Somewhere.

(It felt like there was something around her neck, curling tighter, tighter, digging into her skin like wire.)

"…That's what you're holding," her specter said, after a long, contemplative silence. And then, with a nervousness that was familiar, she repeated, "Who are you?"

There was something about that which made Skuld jittery—a familiarity she didn't like, in the voice of someone she knew but didn't think she should. "I asked that first," she snapped, and she didn't intend to swing Starlight around, but she did, the weapon creating distance between them.

There was something like disappointment flickering across her specter's face, and it didn't really feel fair, that Darkness (she) was judging her (herself) like that. "I don't have a name," she said, and there was an edge to her voice, a defiant curl to her lip that Skuld had seen in the mirror, for a moment her eyes burning almost like fire. And then she deflated a little, too-thin shoulders sinking, and everything dimmed with it. "The scientists call me Subject X."

The girl rubbed her arms, and Skuld's eyes followed the movement, trailing across tiny scars—needle pin-pricks and incisions, crawling along the visible skin and trailing underneath the hospital gown. It felt like, if Skuld stared long enough, she could almost see—

("Can we stop?"

A long hallway. A quiet voice, echoing off the walls. Someone in a lab coat, shrouded in shadows so she couldn't see his face. For a moment, though, she thought she could see white hair, and maybe it wasn't fair, but it made her think of the bluebloods. It was almost too easy, to see Frigga in the stranger's place—to hear her voice, parroting words that had a familiar cadence, echoing over and over and over again.

"It's the only way." The voice was surprisingly gentle, and it made something curl in Skuld's stomach. "It'll be better—for the both of us."

Her specter—Subject X stared at the stranger, and there was a tired sort of resignation on her face, anger long buried. "…Okay.")

Skuld sucked in a breath and snapped away.

"Wait—you didn't answer me."

"I'm a Keyblade wielder," Skuld said, but her voice shook. "I'm a Union Leader. I'm—"

(Staring at the falling Daybreak Town, helpless to do anything to stop it.)

Starlight swept through the empty air. The walls felt too close, the weapon clang-clanging! against them.

She could feel Subject X watching her. She tried not to think about it, moving quicker, footsteps a hurried tap-tap-tap against the floor.

"…Where are we going?"

"I'm leaving. You—" Don't come with me, she thought, and it felt a little frantic, edged with something she couldn't explain. I— "You can do whatever you—"

She stopped.

"What's…" Subject X trailed off.

They were back in that same hallway. The cell was still cracked open, the only light in the darkness.

Skuld stared. Something hot burned in her stomach and seeped up her throat, creeping out the edges like smoke. She thought she could hear the rattle of chains; something tightened around her throat and legs and arms, and it felt, suddenly, like she couldn't move.

"Why are we back here?" Subject X asked.

Move. Move, move, you need to move. Skuld shook herself; it took a surprising force of will to drag herself forward, something tugging at the back of her knees. The shadows felt like they were grasping at her, pulling her back as she moved. She was running before she'd even realized what she was doing, sprinting down dark hallways like she could get away from—from whatever this was. But there was nowhere to go; turning led to more walls, caging her in, forcing her in circles until she saw that same patch of light, glittering in the hallway.

Subject X hadn't moved. She stared at her, and Skuld tried not to think about the expression on her face.

Skuld turned, twisting back down the hallway, sprinting back the way she'd come. A turn, a wall. Another turn. Shadows tugging at her skin; it felt like they were starting to fill her chest, choking her until she couldn't breathe, her heart thudding behind her ribcage.

(Trapped trapped trapped—)

(You're always so helpless to do anything, aren't you?)

Her footsteps slowed to a stop, her breathing unsteady.

In front of her was the open cell again. Subject X was there, and Skuld found that all she could do was stare, trying to catch her breath and figure out what to say. "I'm—" she started, stuttering, and then lost the words, watching as the ends broke and fell away, crumbling to the ground as she tried to figure out an answer.

"You're trapped down here, too," Subject X said, a slow realization dawning in her voice and crawling across her face. It twisted into a bitter, incredulous smile, and she laughed, broken, one hand placed against her face, scrunching her hair. "We're both helpless."

"There's a way out," Skuld snapped, something increasingly desperate in her voice. "I just have to find it."

"There isn't one. It's just one big circle with a cell in it. We can't get out."

"If I can't find a way out, then—then maybe I can make one." She had a Keyblade. She was a Union Leader. She wasn't helpless; she just needed to—to figure out what to do.

Fire burned in her chest; it flooded her arms, molten and bright, and coiled at the end of her Keyblade. It crackled and exploded, bursting against the wall in a shower of smoke and earth. The whole world shook with it—but the wall stayed standing.

Another spell. A different one, this time, ice sliding frozen down the shaft of her blade. Thunder, crackling from the ceiling. Light, flashing like an arrow, even if the darkness tried to swallow it. Spell after spell after spell, crashing into the wall, the ceiling, the floor—an increasingly desperate onslaught, showering them in dust and smoke and debris, until Skuld's magic felt nearly drained, her arms shaking, her breathing unsteady.

The world hadn't changed. They were still in the same circular hallway with the same empty cell, just as trapped as they'd been before.

Subject X was staring at her with a bemused expression, smile curled into something helpless. "You're just like me." And then, quieter, more certain, "You are me."

"No." Something like fear shuddered in her chest, tense and uneasy. "We aren't the same. You're just—you're something Darkness made up to try and get to me."

"No," Subject X insisted, and there was a certainty there that made something inside Skuld burn. When her specter took a step closer, she took a step back, even if the girl in front of her posed very little threat to anyone. "You're a version of me from before—or from a different world, where we ended up somewhere else."

Skuld wanted to argue, but the words left her tongue-tied, tangling in knots in her chest, something wrapping tighter, tighter, tighter around her ribs until she couldn't breathe.

(She wasn't supposed to have ended up in Scala ad Caelum. The Book of Prophecies had said that she was supposed to go somewhere else, but Frigga had always been cagey about where—and Darkness had seen what was written in the Book.

No no no no no—)

"I guess some things never change, huh?" Subject X asked, still wearing that same bitter smile. "No matter where we go, we're helpless to actually do anything."

Skuld didn't really think about what she was doing; her arm moved almost without her consent, her mind catching up only when it was too late to stop the swing. Starlight arced towards her specter's head, and—

Cut through cleanly, trailing embers behind it. Subject X bled fire, too-bright in the shadows, and Skuld had to squint her eyes against it—but even then, she could still see the wounds knitting themselves back together, like Skuld had never done anything at all.

What…?

"You might be able to alter certain things about your destiny—but it'll circle back to the same things, in the end."

Another swing. Another broken trail of fire. The tunnel was starting to feel hotter; she thought she could see smoke, curling around the edges of her specter's skin.

"I could never escape my cell—not on my own. You wanted to save your home, but you were helpless to stop the end of the world."

Clang! Her weapon went wide, hitting against the edge of a metal wall, and Subject X was unfazed.

"And you—you were able to cling to a different friend and find yourself in Scala ad Caelum instead of a cell. But you still can't do anything, can you?"

Swish-clang!

"You've been manipulated by the council. Darkness is still here, ready to destroy the only home you have left. And it's always going to be here—you couldn't beat it before, remember?"

Her Keyblade glowed hot. The small area was filling with smoke, but through it, she thought she could see familiar features—a meeting table and books and stained glass windows.

The girl in front of her was changing, too—smoke curling from her lips, skin slowly burning away, charred and black, bright white flames slipping through the cracks. Faint threads glittered, just visible against the blaze—blue and thin, wrapping around her arms and waist and neck. In them, Skuld thought she could almost see glimpses of things—of other lifetimes, ones where she ended up staying in a fallen world with Ephemer, where she didn't make it out of the end at all, where she found Ven or Lauriam instead. Subject X strained against them, trying to get to her now, and a familiar anger burned in her eyes. She took a step backwards reflexively, lifting her Keyblade to try and protect herself.

"And now you think you can save your friend? You're trapped here. What makes you think you can save them when being friends with you is what got them hurt in the first place?"

It was like that angry thing in her chest had spread—it curled around her ribcage, crackling up her throat, eyes blinded from the flames behind her eyelids. She coughed on smoke, and for a moment that was too long, she thought the fire was going to burn through her.

A long tail lashed, fiery, behind the burning girl, and it cracked against the wall. The threads tightened, and her specter bared her teeth like some sort of feral animal, twisting against them. Embers scattered as she moved, catching on bits of loose cloth.

"Stop," Skuld said, quiet at first—and then, louder, "Stop!"

A lunge. Skuld lifted her Keyblade to protect herself, swiping blinding to try and give herself some reprieve from the heat.

The skull cracked and shifted; it looked less human and more bird-like now, with a long beak and feathered tufts and eyes that burned like fire. Her arms stretched, long and spindly and clawed. Wings split from the back and were promptly restrained, those long blue threads growing tight, tight, tight.

"What do you think you could possibly do? What could we do? We fight and we fight and what's it worth?"

Another desperate swing, straight through a burning skull. It was just as useless as the last time, and the heat traveled up Starlight and to Skuld's hands. She hissed as her palms burned, dropping her Keyblade; it clattered to the floor, disappearing in a flash of light.

A screech, and a crash. The thing that had burned its way out of her slammed into the floor, bound tight by those glowing threads, and flames spread across the floor, so hot that Skuld couldn't breathe. The creature twisted and snarled, and she was no longer sure whether it was trying to get to her or break free of its bindings. It turned towards her, and its eyes blazed with an unfocused sort of fury. When it opened its beak, a distorted voice came out, buried in the crackling flames—but it still had a familiar cadence, something about it still close to her own.

"How long before you lead your friends into more danger? You think you can do something?" The wings couldn't spread, but they tried, straining against the restraints, and burning eyes stared into hers. "Take a look around you! What are you doing but burning up yourself and the people you were supposed to protect?"

Something crashed overhead. Skuld flinched away from it, embers scattering across her head. The world rumbled, and it felt like she was standing at the end of the world again, helpless helpless helpless—

With a heavy thud the creature fell against the ground, its great head resting too close to her. It dimmed, the fight spent—but the room was still on fire, slowly burning down around them. When it spoke, the fury was gone, replaced with words like scattered ashes: "Why don't you just give up?"

For a moment, everything seemed like it dimmed. The whole world went hazy. The crackle faded to a dull roar. The heat caught in Skuld's throat as she sucked it in. One shaky breath. Then another. Then a third, cracked by something a little unsteady, and she blamed her burning eyes on the heat.

Her knees hit the floor, burning wood hissing quietly underneath her. "I don't know what to do," she breathed, the words a distant ring. "I'm so…tired." She blinked, and she stared at the creature; it stared back with burning eyes, expression unreadable. "I just…want to go home. I want to go back. I want to go back to when things weren't so…hard."

The creature breathed out slowly, a heavy exhale that seemed like it drew all the fire out of it, dimming so far she thought it might be dead.

Skuld blinked rapidly, tilting her head back and staring at the crumbling ceiling. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore."

(What you can.)

The room was still burning. It was so—stupid. She'd walked from one cage right into another—but apparently, that was just what her fate was. Maybe there were some things that you just couldn't get out of. This isn't my fault, she thought, but it was an empty sort of frustration. Or—or maybe it is. If she's me. She glanced at the creature—exhausted, now, and it was so tempting to lie down with her and let herself burn with the room. She set the room on fire trying to get free—but if she wasn't trapped—

If she wasn't trapped.

She blinked, something like hope trickling into the back of her mind. The creature—Subject X—her specter hadn't meant to set the room on fire; it'd happened because she was trying to get out. If someone could cut through the bindings—

The room's already burning, something in her whispered, even as Starlight flashed into her hands. What is this going to do?

I don't know. She pushed herself slowly to her feet, knees aching. But I have to try something.

What if it makes things worse?

Skuld hesitated a moment, Keyblade swept back. It almost made her stop—almost. But— The room's already on fire—I don't know if it can get much worse.

What if it does nothing?

Then at least I tried. And she swung, Keyblade sweeping towards the nearest thread, and for one brief, terrible moment, she thought that maybe this wouldn't do anything, that maybe this was ridiculous, that maybe she was just going to end up trapped here anyways—

But the thread snapped, cut through cleanly.

Skuld stared for a moment, blinking, and then broke into breathless, relieved laughter. It felt like something had revitalized her, and she moved, cutting the next, and the next—and slowly, she watched as the creature grew brighter, its great head turning to watch her. There was something there that wasn't before—something that looked a little like life, coming back to its eyes.

Before the last thread had even snapped, the creature reared. It screeched, stretching its wings, its arms, its legs, and its restraints snapped off, one by one. Wings snapped wide, and Skuld had to dodge away from them, rolling away from the flames.

With a crash! the creature landed in front of her, the world rocking with its weight. It stared at her, great head lowering, and for one moment, Skuld thought she'd made a mistake.

And then the creature chuckled, a low, rumbling, friendly sound, and something about the fire seemed a little softer. "An interesting choice."

Those great wings flapped, and with them, the fire seemed to dim. The room faded slowly, slowly, until there was nothing but shadows and the great, glowing monster. Darkness, Skuld realized slowly. This is…Darkness. She stared at the glowing skin, and almost snorted at the irony. "Is this supposed to be some sort of lesson?" she asked, and her smile felt a little sardonic. "I didn't think you did that."

The creature laughed, and it still sounded a lot like her. "No lesson, Little Light—not from us. We simply bring your Darkness to the surface. Whether you learn something or not, it is up to you. We always find the results…fascinating."

"But it's not the same thing. I can't just cut myself free."

The creature narrowed its eyes, looking strangely amused.

Skuld stared at it, and then she breathed out slowly, and it felt like something had lightened a little. "Just find what you can do," she whispered, "and do that. Right."

"If that's what you want to take from it."

"Where's Mimir?" Skuld lifted her chin. "I faced you. That means you need to give them back."

"We said that if you could convince them to come back, you could have them. There is no guarantee they'll want to come."

"I know. I know, but—still."

The creature's eyes crinkled in what might've been amusement. "If you want to find them, the path is already there. This place is made from your heart, after all."

Skuld's eyebrows furrowed. "That's—that's it? I just have to imagine a path to them?" She felt…strangely cheated.

The creature laughed, joyful, crackling with joy. "Good luck, Little Light. May your heart be your guiding key." The creature burned bright, and brighter—so bright that for a moment Skuld had to shield her eyes, the heat brushing against her face. When it faded, the creature was gone, the only thing left a couple of fading embers—but there was a whisper on the wind, winding through her ears like smoke:

"But remember: we are never far behind you. Be careful where you tread."

Skuld swallowed tightly. It felt, suddenly, much colder than it should, and she tried to shake off the chill. "Okay," she breathed. "Okay. So I just…?"

The space in front of her was empty, but it felt like something could be there—like something was waiting, if she just tried. She reached out, fingers brushing the air; it felt like they knocked against threads, tangible against the edges. Skuld closed her eyes, and she thought of Mimir—of talking to them at the fountain, of their first ill-fated mission, of the school and the Exploration Department. "Mimir. I'm coming."

She took a step forward, and watched as a path opened up before her, leading into the shadows. With a sharp grin, she ran, the world slowly opening up into a cobblestone path, buildings gradually taking shape. We're almost there—just hold on a little longer, Mimir.

---

-The plaza was almost eerily quiet, despite the Keyblade wielders fighting in the center. Barely anyone even dared to utter a whisper, watching with wide eyes from the shadows. Frigga's Keyblade clanged against Aegir's, again and again and again, but the two of them were quiet, circling around each other like dogs. Frigga was still tired from her chase, magic drained, and she stumbled a little, breath hissing quietly at the mistake.

Aegir pounced almost immediately, sweeping his Keyblade upward, a Fira spell exploding from the tip. Frigga blocked on reflex, biting back a pained noise as fire scattered over the edges of her weapon. She kept moving, stepping closer and swinging, and Aegir leapt back, carefully out of range.

The sun had set almost fully, now; the very last remnants of light bled across the sky, and shadows stretched long. It felt like their grasping fingers were reaching towards them, stretching from the onlookers; Frigga glanced at them briefly—at their watching eyes, faces blurred and featureless in her short look—and then turned away, her back to the shadows.

Aegir was keeping just carefully out of the range of her Keyblade. Her magic was low, but his wasn't, and he took full advantage of that. He was more cautious here, now that he didn't have to worry about interference; he would wait, pacing carefully around her, firing a spell the moment it seemed like she'd let her guard down. Frigga tried to avoid using magic at all, letting it build back up, eyes narrowed as she watched him, waiting for an opening of her own.

"What's the matter, Frigga?" Aegir shouted. "I thought you were going to prove you were worthy of that Keyblade."

Frigga ignored him, circling carefully. Aegir followed her pattern, blade held at the ready.

There. As soon as Aegir had his back to the fountain, Frigga moved, kicking forward. Aegir lifted his weapon to block the blow, but Frigga swept Master's Defender up at nearly the last second, a small burst of light exploding from the tip. Aegir couldn't quite draw up a defense in time; the spell knocked him back against the fountain's edge, and his breath hissed as he overbalanced, tipping back into the water.

Frigga whipped Master's Defender upward, freezing magic surging through her fingertips. The water in the fountain crackled, ice spreading across the surface to trap Aegir.

(The crowd was hushed, watching, and Frigga could feel their eyes pricking her skin.)

Aegir surged upward, fire streaking off his Keyblade, water steaming around his shoulders. He surged towards her, all caution forgotten, and Frigga backed away under the onslaught, blocking blow after blow after blow, Aegir's magic the brightest spot in the dying light.

(The shadows made odd patterns in the flickering light. When Frigga saw them from the corner of her eye, they looked like cracks, trailing down the sides of the buildings.)

A faint misstep. Frigga caught herself, but Aegir used the lapse in attention to bat her weapon aside. Master's Defender slipped from her grasp, tumbling across the cobblestones, and Aegir's weapon whipped around, swinging towards her head.

Frigga reacted quickly, magic building in her palm; she thrust it towards Aegir's stomach, a burst of light striking him and forcing him back just long enough for her to recall Master's Defender and step back into the fight. Their weapons clashed, screeching against each other, and Aegir's eyes narrowed at her over the edges. "Are you starting to tire?" he asked, voice so low she could barely hear it. "It must be exhausting, chasing after legends."

It struck a nerve, and Frigga's foot shifted, her heel catching the back of Aegir's leg, and she tugged to throw him off balance. Aegir caught himself quickly, but he was on the defensive now, parrying Frigga's strikes as she advanced on him.

The teeth of his weapon caught against Master Defender's, temporarily locking them in place. "But all leaders wear out eventually. Isn't that why they wanted to replace you with one of the Union Leaders?"

Frigga disengaged, weapon flying towards Aegir's stomach. He couldn't quite dodge away in time, grunting quietly as it struck him and sent him stumbling. Frigga's magic burned, but she called on it anyways, a thin, reedy chain flickering at her Keyblade's tip; it swung in a circle overhead, then snapped towards Aegir, catching his arm and holding him tight. Aegir braced himself, then lifted his Keyblade, another Fira spell exploding from the tip. Frigga slipped to the side, spinning away from the blast, keeping the chain taut.

Aegir didn't let her; he launched himself across the space, using the chain to drag himself closer. Frigga released the spell and parried him, a quick clang-clang! that echoed through the streets.

"What's the matter?" Aegir asked. "Do you have nothing to say for yourself?"

Frigga's eyes flicked to the crowd, acutely aware of their judgment, and she kept the snarl off her face but not out of her voice. "You are not worth the words."

Master's Defender felt like it was burning in her hands. She pushed Aegir back and shot after him; the attacks moved faster now, a rapid flurry of strikes that blurred through the shadows, constantly moving, moving, moving and trying to keep Aegir on the defensive.

(The last light had faded now, scattered embers trailing across the founder's statue. The stars weren't out yet, covered by clouds; even the streetlights seemed dimmed, coated in fog.)

Clang—clang—thud! A strike that broke through, finally—a quick slash, ducking deftly beneath Aegir's blade and colliding with his chest. He gasped, stumbling, and Frigga pressed her advantage, landing another blow, and another—

Metal screeched as hit Aegir's Keyblade instead. He swept the weapons aside, more by brute force than anything, and then began his own onslaught, forcing her further towards the fountain.

"What's going—Master Frigga?"

She didn't dare look, but out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a couple of Keyblade wielders hurrying towards the plaza. One of them started forward, but an arm barred their path. "Don't interfere."

"But—"

"Formal challenge."

Aegir's Keyblade nicked her side; she pressed her hand against the wound, hissing quietly at the blood bubbling beneath her fingertips. It wasn't bad enough for a Cure spell, and so she kept going, side-stepping and swinging her Keyblade towards Aegir's unprotected side. Her parried it easily, returning a blow of his own.

Block. Parry. Retreat. Strike when an opening came, then press her advantage, taking several steps after him, then leaping away when he came too close. Back and forth they went, trading blows across the plaza, Keyblades ringing.

(Frigga could hear the crowd, now; whispers floated through the night, only barely noticeable above the fighting, caught in quick snippets when they came too close to the edges.

"Bluebloods are fighting again—"

"…isn't that what happened to…"

"Where are the Union Leaders?"

"Are they going to bring this one down, too?")

Frigga shifted her footing, just a little, and twisted her blade. Master's Defender cracked! against Aegir's Keyblade, and it sent him stumbling backwards. She lunged, but Aegir kicked away, throwing himself out of range. His Keyblade swung down, crashing against the ground, and the earth rumbled.

Frigga realized what was happening just barely in time and leapt, magic fueling her leap. The earth rose; the cobblestones buckled; the buildings shook, and people screamed as they scrambled aside. Large stone spires rose out of the ground, stabbing into the sky; Frigga was safely out of reach, but she watched as they cut a path down the middle of the plaza, tapering off just before reaching the fountain. No buildings fell, but she heard the low, worried murmur of those watching, Keyblade wielders quietly ushering people to the side.

Light flashed. Frigga's head snapped towards it, and she found herself momentarily blinded. Master's Defender lifted on reflex, but the spell crashed into her, anyways; her head spun, pain rocketing through her chest, her whole body tilting backwards and over itself.

She hit something solid with a heavy thud; something cracked underneath the blow, and pain spread through her arm and ribs; she rolled from the impact, tumbling over herself, and barely had the presence of mind to try and slow her movement, Master's Defender digging into the cobblestones and bringing her to a screeching halt.

She blinked, sunspots patterning her vision. She couldn't see Aegir, but she could still hear him.

She didn't have time for a Cure spell. She just needed to move—to end this fight, before Aegir wore her down or something worse happened. And so she surged upward, Keyblade swinging, and she heard the stumble of Aegir's footsteps as he faltered, startled backwards by her strike.

For a moment, the crowd was silent, watching. Frigga breathed heavily, and all she could hear was its echo, rattling against her broken ribs.

Aegir narrowed his eyes from across the distance, barely visible through the splotches marring her vision. Wordlessly, he lifted his Keyblade.

Frigga's eyes shifted, briefly, towards the crowd. They were almost completely hidden in shadow, now, figures looming in the darkness. (It felt like they were waiting for her to make a mistake.

…She couldn't. Not here.)

She lunged.

---

-There was a person in the mirror he didn't know.

Something in the back of his mind said he'd had that thought before, but it fell away, slipping through his fingers like water. His fingers touched the glass, and it rippled underneath his touch. Something slithered behind his back, great, dark things flickering underneath the water.

"A…deal…?"

The words came as a whisper, raw and quiet, in a voice he didn't know, and he almost started back at them. It took him a moment to realize the words had come from him; a moment longer to realize that must mean it was his voice. But it didn't…sound like his voice.

Did it?

"A deal?"

There, again. That was the same voice; it was stronger than—

Something. He thought he should know what.

There was a person in the mirror he didn't know. He had a hat, and a hood, but no mask, and that felt important, somehow. The person's expression was twisted and bloody and tired and scared, and it struck something so deep in his chest that he could feel it in his bones.

"Yeah." A new voice. He didn't know this one—

(He did. He did, he did, he could hear it ringing in his—)

(Shh. Go back to sleep.)

"It's not too hard. There are just a couple of things I can't do myself. I have to keep a low profile, you know?"

There was a person in the mirror he didn't know. They wore a black cloak that reminded him of stories that—of stories. Of shadows and myths and things like the snake that was slowly wrapping itself around his waist. But there was a person beyond him who was starting to feel familiar. (He was young, he was realizing; he didn't know how he knew, but there was something fragile and small about this—this boy, who was still too young to be out in the world, the shadow of a fallen monster still hanging over him.

There was blood on his hands. The boy's hands?)

"And you can bring him back?"

The voice came out shaking and raw; there was something that looked like a grave behind him, the long metal shaft of some weapon that should be familiar sticking out of the ground.

"I've heard stories." And the boy moved, stumbling, taking desperate steps towards someone who couldn't save him but he was horribly convinced could. (I don't understand.) "My brother and I, we used to hear all sorts of things. The storykeepers, they've talked about things like—like people who have challenged life and death to restore their loved ones. Of ways to rewrite reality and reach into the afterlife. Of a person who held life and death in their hands." His mouth worked, his eyes wide and desperate, but there were no more words to say.

"What is this?" came that unfamiliar voice from his throat, whisper-quiet.

Another voice, soft and hissing near his ear, scales rubbing against his neck and slipping into air almost as quickly. "Watch."

"…Look. I'm not going to make promises I can't keep." A pause. "But I can see what I can do."

The boy didn't say anything. He just stared, looking so, so lost that it seemed like he might crumble, right then and there.

A long, tired sigh, bone-weary with centuries of exhaustion. "I need you…to keep an eye out for someone. You might have heard of him—his name's Brain."

"Like—the Union Leader?"

"He is the Union Leader."

That felt important. He wasn't sure why—but the boy in the mirror reacted, starting to attention, straight-backed. "That's not possible. They—"

"You said you've heard lots of stories, right? So you had to have heard about how most of the Union Leaders were flung into time and space—separated, for now, but they'd one day make their 'grand return.'" The cloaked figure leaned forward a little, like they were studying the boy. "Bet you've heard whispers—that the legendary 'Master Brain' is going to come back before too long."

The boy stared, and stared, and stared, until it felt like the very image of him would slip away—like it'd drip down the mirror, pooling into the water in multi-colored drops.

"Now here's the thing: there is something that's lurking below Scala ad Caelum. Something that could tear your world apart, if you let it. Whatever happens, I need you to make sure that the kid doesn't engage with it."

The boy seemed to come back to himself, for a moment, blinking owlishly up at the black-coated figure. "Why…? If he's a Union Leader…couldn't he save us from it?"

The cloaked figure went very, very quiet. "Kid, listen. I'm going to let you in on a little secret the stories don't tell you. See, it's a lot easier to look back on something and create meaning out of it. To assign heroes and villains and find the narrative. But the reality's a lot messier. The people in those stories weren't really all that different from you. They were just as scared and confused and helpless as anyone else; the only difference is that they happened to be in the right place and right time to be remembered. Or, well—a part of them was." The figure leaned a little closer, dipping behind the fingers pressed against the mirror. "Your legends are just kids. They can't save you—and they deserve better than they got."

The boy didn't look like he knew what to say—and then he jumped, flinching away as the cloaked figure shoved a mask nearly into his hands.

(His hands reached up to touch his face—to touch something like a mask, sitting there.)

"Do we have a deal?"

"You have always been so good at following along with orders, haven't you?"

The words came whispered, trailing through his ears, and the image in the mirror changed.

There was a person in the mirror he didn't recognize, but he thought he should, and he stumbled away from it. There was something about it that frightened him, in a way that he didn't entirely understand.

"So willing to become someone else's eyes and ears—to give up everything you are, all on one vague promise."

"I'm nothing."

The words came whisper-quiet, but he realized they had an echo—that same stranger in the mirror, sitting in an alleyway.

There was a person in the mirror he didn't recognize, but he did; his voice wasn't the same, and he was practically hidden in shadow, but he knew this stranger, as deeply as he knew himself.

(It wasn't saying much—he wasn't sure he knew himself at all.)

There was a too-long pause before the stranger answered. "You get used to it. That's kind of how this goes."

"Is that why you've never told me your name?"

A bitter sort of laugh, tired and resigned. "My name's whatever it needs to be." Footsteps, disappearing into the shadows. "Just keep me updated on what's going on with the council, alright?"

"You still haven't—" But the words fell, useless; the figure had disappeared, and the stranger in the mirror released a slow, frustrated breath. His hands shook, and for a moment, it looked like he might storm after them—but then he wilted, shoulders slumping in resignation.

"Sigurd."

A name he felt like he should recognize, but didn't; another image in the mirror, of that same stranger lifting his head, of an older woman with calculating eyes. She smiled, but there was something sharp in it. "I have a job for you. I need you to keep an eye on Master Brain and report back to me—can you do that?"

"I—yes. Yes, I can, Master Frigga."

"Like a dog—so eager to please your masters. Tell me, when was the last time you considered what you wanted?"

(A lifetime ago, when he was begging a cloaked figure to help him bring back his—)

He blinked. He didn't recognize this place. There was a strange in the mirror staring back at him. He had a hat and mask and hood, and the stranger's hands moved in time with his own.

Something crawled over his shoulders, dragging him closer to the mirror, a long, scaly body squeezing his chest so tight he couldn't breathe, disappearing and leaving him gasping half a second later. "Even coming on this trip wasn't really because you wanted to be here, was it?"

"You said you wanted to help, right?"

There was—a boy, in the mirror. A boy with a feathered hat and black clothes and tired, angry eyes. And the stranger jumped on the opportunity, because—because he was supposed to be watching this boy. For Frigga, for the person-who-might-bring-his-brother-back, and he was finally, finally giving him the opportunity to do that, and—

And…how did he know that?

"We're going to get our friend back; we could use an extra hand."

It would give you the chance to get into his good graces, wouldn't it?

He blinked at the thought. Was it his…? …He thought it might've been. Why did it make him feel…uncomfortable?

"You have always been little more than a side character in other people's stories—easy to mold into what they need you to be."

There was a creature above the mirror, creeping over the edge, its great masked face flickering into and out of view. Patches of it seemed nearly transparent, scales clattering into the water.

Something flickered in the mirror. The boy was still there, but there was something behind him—something that looked like a wasteland, and a large black box.

"Tell me—when will you finally chase something you want?"

Fingers pressed against the glass. He leaned closer until his face nearly touched the mirror; if he kept going, he thought he would pass right through it, eyes honing in on that black box. "What's…?"

Something moved—the boy in the mirror, he realized, and—and had he still been there? He thought he had—

There was a boy in the mirror, wearing all black and a feathered hat, and he was coming towards him. "Think that's enough."

The creature over the top of the mirror recoiled, hissing angrily. "What…? You are not supposed to—"

"Sorry. Not really interested in playing by your rules." The boy reached out, and his hand came through the mirror, fingers grasping at an arm, stopping its owner from stumbling backwards. He pulled himself out, the glass pulling away like water, and—and what was happening?

"Come on, Sigurd," the boy hissed, and started moving before he could even formulate a reply, dragging him behind him.

Something screeched, loud and long and angry, behind him, and it felt, suddenly, like he'd been doused in freezing cold water. "Master Brain? What are you—"

It came back in a rush, and he stumbled under the weight of it. The ruins. Searching for Brain's friend. Darkness's challenge. This place.

What had it done to him? Why had it made him forget?

And…and what was that thing…that had been in the mirror…?

Brain glanced back at him, flashing a smile that was all teeth. "Still with me?"

"I—what—Master Brain, what is happening—"

"Darkness messed with your head. I'll explain later."

"I'd like an explanation now—"

"You little trickster." Shadows flickered across the water, and the stars blinked out, one by one.

"Guess they didn't really like that," Brain muttered, expression shadowed.

"Didn't like what?" Sigurd asked, exasperated and frightened, all in one.

"You were not supposed to interfere. You would face us, one by one—that was the deal."

"He beat you, technically." Brain wasn't looking at Sigurd; he was still moving, head darting back and forth, like he was searching for something, but Sigurd felt as lost as when he couldn't remember anything. "Look, he remembers—that was your challenge, right?"

"Challenge?"

"He didn't need to remember." The voice was low and angry, wavering in and out, like its owner wasn't entirely there. "He needed to react. What do we care how?"

"Upset I ruined your game?"

An angry rumble went through the world, the water rippling underneath Sigurd's feet. "What," Sigurd asked, "did you get us into?"

"You forget, Little Light—you are in our domain."

Brain's breath hissed between his teeth. "Shit. Time to get out of here."

The air rippled in front of them—and then, just as abruptly, it smoothed out. The water crashed, rising in a wave above them.

Brain shoved Sigurd backward; his Keyblade flashed into his hand, a barrier forming around them, and the water fell upon it, the impact so hard that it rattled Sigurd's teeth.

"But if you would like to cheat—very well." A face appeared from the shadows, grinning and sharp-toothed. "Drown."

Cracks spread across the barrier, splitting the air with a loud creaking. Brain winced, bracing his Keyblade with both hands, and Sigurd still didn't know what was going on, but he knew that he needed to help, in whatever way he could, and so he summoned his Keyblade—

The barrier shattered. The wave crashed down. Sigurd barely had time to shout, "Brain!" before he was swallowed by the darkness.

---

-Master's Defender burned.

Frigga hissed quietly. It made her falter, the beginnings of a spell flickering out.

(There was something there—an echo, almost, of a memory that felt familiar in a way it shouldn't. It felt almost like the Keyblade was remembering something, cloudy images flickering through her mind.)

Movement. Frigga reacted, moving mostly on muscle memory, and Master's Defender clanged! against Aegir's weapon.

"What has you distracted, Frigga?" Aegir asked. "You aren't worried that I'm right, are you?"

She narrowed her eyes, and tried to shove the strange, burning sensation to the back of her mind. It isn't any worse than what I've dealt with before. "I'm giving you time to catch up." She pulled away slightly, Master's Defender dipping low to strike beneath his guard, and when Aegir retreated she followed, magic on her tongue.

---

-I'm drowning.

It felt a little like he'd been here before—surrounded by darkness, heart floating in the in-between. He gasped, and shadows bubbled at his lips.

"Shhh." Something curled around him, soft and comforting. "Sleep."

His thoughts came sluggishly. His chest hurt, an old ache, like a scar that hadn't healed quite right. I…can't. There's…something I'm supposed to do.

"Aren't you tired?" Something moved, the darkness stirring. "Don't you want to rest?"

His eyes were heavy. They'd been that way for…a long time, he thought. Rest…

"There you go. Close your eyes. Go to sleep."

His eyelids drooped. Resting would be…good…

"Brain!"

Someone's…calling me… He opened his eyes, but he could see nothing but darkness. Who…?

"Rest." The shadows pulled closer, wrapping around his shoulders like a cloak. "You have done enough."

I…haven't. We were…looking for someone.

"Your friends can find them. Rest. You don't need to fight anymore."

How am I…supposed to when…?

"I haven't." The words came in a whisper, tugged from the back of his throat. "I didn't do anything."

There was something solid beneath his feet. His knees knocked against the ground, fingers curling into fists against them. "I don't…know how to get out of this." He huffed, something that was almost a laugh. "No clever plans left. Thought I could trick my way into fixing things; guess that turned out like the rest of my plans."

"You?" a familiar voice asked, clear and bright, and it made Brain freeze. "Come on, Brain, that doesn't sound right."

Brain's head shot up, and—

There was Ephemer.

He wasn't quite the way he remembered him—older now, face worn with age, hands covered in scars from a life hard-won. But he smiled, and that smile was the same. "It's been a while."

Brain tried to find something to say, but the words felt stolen, a thousand apologies slipping between his fingertips.

Ephemer's expression turned sad, like he'd heard them, anyways. "We've…all been through a lot, huh? I'm sorry; I can't promise it's going to get easier. But you've got to keep going, if you want even a chance of things changing."

"I'm sorry," Brain managed, finally, and Ephemer chuckled, but it sounded sad.

"You don't have to apologize to me. I'm not as much as a hero as everyone makes me out to me—not even you." He gave him a soft, sad smile. "I'm just a person."

Brain huffed a laugh, eyes burning, lips twitching into a hesitant smile. "Who rebuilt a whole world."

"When did I become a legend to you, too?" The words stung, but Ephemer still had that same smile on his face. "Come on, Brain. You knew me, once. I once had has chasing ghost stories for a whole week—remember?"

Brain laughed, because he did; he could still hear the echoes of Lauriam complaining about it, exasperated, and Ven's enthusiasm, and Skuld egging them on.

"I wasn't any more qualified to rebuild a world than you are to try and save one now. I guess it's good we've got friends, right?" Ephemer knelt and extended his hand. Master's Defender appeared in a flash, as unmarred as the day Brain had given it to him.

Brain started backwards as Ephemer pressed it closer to him. His eyes flicked to the Keyblade, then back to Ephemer questioningly.

"I promised I'd give it back one day, didn't I?"

Brain stared at him. His gaze turned back to Master's Defender, slowly. His fingers twitched, and he reached out, stopping just short of touching the hilt. But he could still feel it—the low hum coming from the blade, warm, like it was fighting; if he listened closely, he thought he could hear the crash of metal, the singing of spells, the specter of voices, generations who had wielded the weapon after him.

---

-Crash-clang! The sound of metal striking metal reverberated through the plaza; a burst of light flew from Master's Defender's tip, briefly illuminating the darkening night, chasing after Aegir.

"Wasn't that Keyblade supposed to go to someone else?" he shouted, barely noticeable over the roaring in Frigga's ears.

---

-"I...can't." Brain pulled his hand back, just a little, fingers curling away. "It's not mine anymore."

"Brain, it's always been yours."

---

-"This Keyblade has been passed down through our family for generations," Frigga remembered her father saying. "It belongs to the leader of Scala ad Caelum."

Clang—thud! Her footsteps faltered, and she lifted her Keyblade to brace against Aegir's blow, both hands pressed against the shaft.

"If you are chosen, it's your responsibility not just to think about our family, but about the people of Scala ad Caelum."

With a shout she forced Aegir's blade aside, stumbling a little. She could feel the eyes of their audience on her back—see them from across the street, tiny flickers of light in the night. The ground was torn up between them, cobblestones broken and cracked. It felt a little like something was slipping through Frigga's fingertips; like she just needed to hold on, to grab it tighter, and she could fix this.

"You have to put this world first. Before everything—even yourself."

I have given everything to keep this world safe, she thought, parrying Aegir's attack and forcing him back. I am worth to wield it!

---

-"I'm not worthy."

"I think you're putting way too much importance on a single Keyblade." Ephemer's eyes softened. "You aren't responsible for anything that happened. I know you probably can't accept that yet, but—maybe you can accept this, at least. You don't have to prove anything to reclaim this. You don't have to be 'worthy' to take back something that's a part of you."

---

-Aegir's foot kicked up dust. Frigga tried to shield her eyes, squinting against it. It was an underhanded trick, and Frigga suppressed a hiss of pain as he used it to force her back, nearly sending her into the fountain.

(Master's Defender still burned; if she looked, she thought she almost caught flickers of smoke, trailing from her fingertips.)

---

-Brain's fingers itched. Master's Defender almost sounded like it was singing; he could feel the sting of magic on his tongue, bright and cold. "I need to—find the others."

Ephemer gave him a sad sort of smile. He pushed Master's Defender closer, until it was almost resting in Brain's hands, but he didn't drop it; Brain would have to reach out and take it. If he wanted it.

I don't deserve it. In some ways, it felt like the representation of all his failures. It was always meant to go to someone different; someone better.

("Better?" he could hear Ephemer saying with a laugh. "Brain, I'm just like you.")

"I need…to keep the past from repeating itself."

(Master's Defender was singing.)

He would do…anything, he thought. If it meant he could fix things.

He lifted his hand, reaching towards the warm metal—

---

-Frigga pushed a hand against the fountain's edge, shoving herself forward, Master's Defender swung back for a strike.

---

—and his fingers curled around Master's Defender's hilt.

---

-Master's Defender burned—and suddenly, it felt like she was burning, too, pain trickling up her arm and making her shake. She stumbled, coming to an abrupt, faltering halt, her free hand reaching out to brace against her wrist, and she thought, for a moment, that she saw Aegir falter.

But then all she could think about was the burning burning what's happening there's something there why does it hurt why why why—

Her ears rang. It took her a moment to realize it was screaming, her own throat raw. Her chest felt like it had caught fire, heart shuddering painfully against her ribcage, and it was too much too much too much—

Aegir, some distant part of her mind whispered. Aegir's still coming.

I need to—I need to hold onto—

Footsteps, moving quickly; a Keyblade, glinting in the night.

…I need to defeat him.

---

-It felt like something was choking him. His chest burned, and Brain gasped, clawing at it with his free hand. Fire felt like it had gathered in his palm; Master's Defender was no longer solid, but a burning mote of light, silhouette barely visible. He went to call Ephemer's name, but everything had fallen away to darkness, save for the one point of light in his hand.

"What have you done now?"

We need to get out. The blade burned in his hand, but—he thought he could see it. He thought he could see—

(Scala's dark streets. A figure that he thought he should know, skidding across the cobblestones. The flicker of a face that felt familiar; that he thought he could see Ephemer in, if he looked.

It's yours.)

With a scream, Brain pulled, hands and heart burning—and then, there was nothing but light.

---

-Frigga moved, almost on instinct, magic burning in the palm of her free hand. She shoved it into Aegir's stomach, and the spell practically exploded; it made Frigga stumble backward, a dull, throbbing pain trailing up her arm, and Aegir released a gasp as he flew. He hit the ground with a heavy thud; his Keyblade clattered beside him, disappearing into light.

Frigga's arm jerked—and then Master's Defender was gone, disappearing in a flash of sparks. The pain left with it, the night air suddenly much, much cooler, her skin sticky with sweat. She stayed where she was, shaking, panting, one hand still extended from her spell, the other curled close, grasping at something it didn't have anymore. There was a strange emptiness in her chest, and a silence that still rang with the distant memory of clashing metal.

Aegir remained where he'd fallen. A moment passed. Then two. Then three, and when Aegir still didn't move, it finally dawned on Frigga that she'd won.

…She wanted to call for Master's Defender. She wanted to feel the familiar metal in her palm and know that, whatever happened, it had just been a fluke. But now, in the quiet, she was acutely aware of the people watching her; what would they think, if she tried to call Master's Defender, and it didn't answer?

(What did they think of her now?)

Her eyes flicked around the crowd, not quite able to stay on one person. Eventually, they went back to Aegir—still down, silent on the cobblestones.

She took a shuddering breath, and then another. She straightened, taking a moment to try and steady her face and hands. "Master Aegir has fallen," she said, and despite her best efforts, her voice still shook with exhaustion. "As he is unable to continue fighting, the challenge is at an end. He will be held until his alleged crimes against the Union Leaders can be investigated."

No one moved, at first. Eventually, two Keyblade wielders peeled away from the crowd. They approached Aegir, checking him over carefully as he began to stir.

Frigga stayed where she was, hands clenched so tightly she thought she'd draw blood, and ignored the way the shadows felt like they were creeping closer.

---

-Brain hit rough, wet ground and gasped, coughing up lungfuls of shadows. His vision blurred into and out of focus, but he could still feel the warm, solid metal of Master's Defender beneath his palm.

"Master…Master Brain…"

Sigurd. He lifted his head, and found Sigurd collapsed on the ground next to him. Beyond him were what looked like the ruins of Daybreak Town; water dripped in the background, splashing lightly against the cobblestones.

We're out. Brain laughed, exhausted and relieved, and sat back, dragging Master's Defender with him. We made it.

But we're not out of danger yet.

"Where did you get…?"

He realized after a moment that Sigurd had one hand hesitantly extended towards Master's Defender. Brain blinked, lifting the blade. A strange knot of emotions twisted in his chest, relief and grief and guilt all in one. The weapon felt old in a way that wasn't familiar; it was like a part of his childhood had been torn away, returned to him differently, and he wasn't sure what to do with the hum of magic underneath his fingertips, the echoes of past wielders whispering through his ears.

"You're quite the little trickster, aren't you?"

Shit. He scrambled to his feet, dragging Sigurd after him.

"Master Brain—"

"We need to get moving."

"What about the others?"

"Hopefully, we're going to be helping them." He started moving, sprinting through the ruins of Daybreak Town, and tried to ignore the strange, clogged feeling in his throat, Master's Defender heavy in his hand. "Keep an eye out for a black box."

"A what?"

"You think you are clever." Something dark swept overhead, and Brain cursed, dragging Sigurd behind a building as something slammed into the place they'd once been. "We'll see how that serves you here."

---

-The further Skuld ran, the clearer the environment around her became. Pale, colorless cobblestones slowly filled in, orange and yellow, painted across the street in a familiar pattern. Buildings slowly gained features, gaining little balcony gardens and purple shingled roofs. Gardens sprouted along the pathway, and it wasn't until Skuld swept down a familiar street that her mind caught up with her eyes.

Her footsteps slowed from a run to a walk to a complete stop. Why…is this…?

"Skuld!"

"Kvasir?"

From between the buildings came the familiar form of her friend, his expression breaking into a relieved grin. "I'm glad I found—" And then his eyes flicked to Skuld's face, and his smile faltered. "What's wrong?"

Skuld blinked. "I—nothing. I'm just…" She turned, glancing out at the familiar streets. "Confused."

Kvasir's eyebrows furrowed.

Skuld took a breath and shook her head, ignoring the oddity of finding herself back in Daybreak Town, of all places. It's just another vision from Darkness. But why would Mimir be here? "How did—are you—okay?"

It was hard to put into words, exactly, what she meant, but Kvasir seemed to realize anyways, expression breaking momentarily. "It was…hard." He laughed, the sound shaky. "But I made it, I suppose." He gave her a curious look. "And you?"

"Still here." She gave him half a smile she didn't feel. "Let's—let's see if we can track down Mimir."

Kvasir's expression turned a little more serious, and he nodded, following Skuld as she headed back out into the streets. "I'm guessing you haven't seen the others…?"

"Not yet." Which was worrying, but—they were strong. She had to hope they got out okay, because she didn't know how she'd find them if they didn't.

"I hope they—oh! There's something up ahead."

Skuld blinked against the sunlight and stepped into Fountain Square.

The longing nearly swept her off her feet. Being here felt like coming home. The place was just as she remembered it, even if it lacked the people who usually spent time here. The warm light of daybreak fell over the rooftops and scattered across the cobblestones, bright and welcoming. And sitting on the fountain was—

"Mimir!" Kvasir didn't have the same memories Skuld did; he didn't find himself pausing at the edge of the street, blinking back unexpected tears, and simply charged towards the fountain to meet their friend.

But perhaps Skuld's pause was a good thing, because it gave her time to notice that something was…off. Mimir didn't react at all to their name; they were turned, talking to two figures that looked almost like ghosts, too faded to make out the details. Skuld's eyebrows furrowed, and she followed more cautiously.

Kvasir reached Mimir, putting a hand on their shoulder and shaking them, and they flinched, jerking away and staring at him, wide-eyed.

Kvasir pulled his hand back, looking hurt. "Did—is something wrong?"

Mimir's surprise slowly faded into a vaguely confused expression. "Ephemer…?" they asked, and Skuld froze. It still sounded like them, mostly, but there was something underneath it—a second voice, the echoes of someone vaguely familiar.

Kvasir's expression faltered. "No? Ephemer is my ancestor."

Mimir's eyebrows furrowed. They turned to Skuld, tilting their head in question, twisted just slightly towards Kvasir.

"It's Kvasir," Skuld said carefully, and had a strange sense of déjà vu.

Mimir's eyebrows furrowed further, something pinched in their expression.

"Is everything alright?" Kvasir asked, hand extending slowly towards them, and they recoiled, jerking out of reach.

"I think they might be stuck in a vision of their own," Skuld whispered, watching as her friend scrambled to their feet.

"Oh. But…how does this relate to that?" Kvasir glanced at their surroundings curiously. "They don't seem worried about you."

They didn't. It was…strange. And it didn't make sense that they'd show up in Daybreak Town; if anything, that should've been her or Brain. Maybe it's my fault? she wondered. Or—or maybe it's something about living a different life. Like in the stories. They were—they were lonely, right?

But why would they forget about Kvasir?

("There are…gaps in the Book of Prophecies. Mentions of a figure who was important to your story, but who seems to have been almost erased from the narrative.")

Mimir made a pained noise, hands scrunching in their hair.

"Mimir," Skuld started, careful, "what's going on? What do you—what do you think is going on?"

Mimir paused. They blinked, head tilted in confusion, and their hands twitched, like they wanted to say something. But instead of signing, they murmured, quiet, "That's not my name."

Something itched at the back of Skuld's mind—an idea, slowly taking shape, ignored for its impossibility.

"It's…not?" Kvasir asked, mostly sounding confused.

Mimir looked like they wanted to answer, but their expression contorted briefly in pain. They made a vague noise, running a hand over their face and through their hair; when they lifted their head again, there was something closer to recognition in their expression, even if pained confusion still painted their features. "Kvas…ir?"

Kvasir smiled, near-blinding. "Yes! I was beginning to worry. It's alright, this place did things like that to all of us—or, well, I believe it did. We haven't run into Brain or Sigurd yet."

Mimir mouthed 'Brain,' expression still hopelessly lost. They turned to Skuld, a silent question on their face.

"Brain," Skuld repeated, careful. "Our friend."

Mimir pointed at themself, starting to shake their head, then paused, expression pinched. "The…Clock Tower…?"

It felt like something had caught in Skuld's chest, twisting around her ribcage and constricting.

"He's…in the Clock Tower sometimes?" Kvasir answered.

Mimir shook their head. "Lifeboats…"

The air wheezed out of Skuld's chest, and she found herself taking a step forward reflexively, hissing, "How did you know that?"

Mimir tilted their head. Slowly, their hand fell to their chest, pressing against the center, and something pained crossed their face. They sent a look towards Kvasir, expression so achingly sad that it made something in Skuld scream. When they turned to Skuld, they gave her a tiny, heartbroken smile. "You…got out."

(For a moment, Skuld was staring at a different face, Keyblade raised to strike, and she felt like she couldn't breathe.)

"The stories." Skuld whipped towards Kvasir. "Did they mention lifeboats?"

"No…?" Kvasir gave Skuld a lost look. "Do you know what's going on?"

"I—no."

Don't you?

No. Because that isn't possible. They died—I saw them. And Mimir never acted like they knew me before.

(But they'd said she reminded them of their missing friends, hadn't they?)

"You…" Mimir trailed off, blinking, their expression briefly going lost and helpless. When they looked at Daybreak Town, it seemed, almost, like they weren't sure where they were, arms curling in towards their chest, expression slowly twisting into something closer to confused fear.

The world was darkening slowly. Kvasir made a nervous-sounding noise. "Skuld—"

It can't be them. It can't be. Darkness has done something to them—that's what's going on.

(Had they ever referred to her or Ephemer as 'Master,' even before they knew her?)

"How did we meet?" Skuld asked, voice brittle, and Kvasir made a confused sound from behind her.

Mimir's eyebrows furrowed, and they pointed towards the fountain—and then they paused, hands lifting for a hesitant moment like they wanted to sign something.

"Why did you say 'Ephemer' earlier?"

Mimir's expression was going increasingly distressed, but they turned and pointed towards the Clock Tower.

("A lot of my memories are blurred, but…I can make out some details. A red scarf. A fountain. Laughing together—their voices are always kind of in the back of my head, but it's hard to hear them clearly.

"One of them was…one of Ephemer's descendants, I think. He looked a lot like how they describe him in the stories.")

"We were…going to save him," Mimir said, but their voice was broken and confused, apparently oblivious to the way Skuld had frozen. "He told us to. In a dream."

Is that in the stories? That has to be in the stories. It can't be—

("Something happened to Darkness in the past, but the exact explanation is…murky. Prophecies are sometimes vague, but you learn how to read between the lines, eventually. I suspect that there is some sort of connection between Mimir and this mystery figure—though what is hard to say, exactly.")

"Darkness!" Her voice rose and rang against the buildings, echoing in the empty streets. "This isn't fair! We found them. Stop playing tricks."

"Tricks?" Kvasir asked.

"They can't know that. They can't. Because that's—"

We were the only ones who knew that. It was just us.

"No tricks." The shadows slithered, crawling across the ground towards Mimir, whose face was falling, breath hissing between their teeth as they pressed a palm to their face. "They had an…incident with their captor."

"What kind of incident?"

The shadows crawled up Mimir's legs, slowly swirling around their waist, slipping up to their shoulder. Mimir looked at her, and it was like they weren't seeing anything at all. They'd started shaking now, fingers flexing like they wanted to call their Keyblade. "Their magic," Darkness explained; something that looked like a head peeled off Mimir's shoulder, dripping shadows onto the ground below. "It was redirected back to them, and they unlocked memories that had long been buried. And us, of course."

"Skuld?" Kvasir asked, but it sounded distant, barely heard underneath the roaring in her ears. She wanted to say something, but she couldn't find the words; they'd fallen through her chest somewhere, slipping between the cracks in her ribs and onto the cobblestones below.

"There were four of us," Darkness continued, curling almost comfortingly around Mimir, who made a pained noise and buried their head in their hands. "Enough for the four of you—and to keep an eye on our Little Light, of course. They are very clever—they tricked even you into believing that they'd betrayed you."

Skuld thought she said…something. It felt like "Let go of them" from the shape of it, but she couldn't hear it, her eyes locked on Mimir. They didn't look like—like them, didn't sound like them, but—there were similarities, in some ways. But—but that's not—

"Go away."

The words made it through the noise, and Skuld's attention snapped to Mimir's face.

Their fingers dug into their scalp. Their lip was curled, eyes squeezed shut. It looked like parts of them were peeling away, bits and pieces of their clothes and skin and hair falling away to reveal something painfully familiar.

"You heard them." Darkness stretched, a low hissing sound snapping from what might've been a mouth. "Leave."

(She was back in the lifeboat chamber. She was staring at a stranger wearing her friend's face, watching her world fall down around her.)

Starlight was in her hands before she'd even had the time to think about it. "I'm not letting you take another friend away from me," she snarled, and lunged, Keyblade swinging towards Darkness.

It wasn't Darkness that crashed against it—it was another Starlight, weapons clanging together in a crash of sparks. Skuld's eyes snapped towards Mimir, and as she watched, their face melted away, the last remnants of 'Mimir' falling off and revealing—

No. No, no, no, this can't be right—

("It's best to be prepared."

"For what?"

"For whatever Darkness may follow you.")

---

-Do you want to hear a story?

It's about people of legend—you like those sorts of stories, don't you? A story about grand heroes who always seem to save the day, despite overwhelming odds.

---

-"The kids aren't back yet."

Until the end of the day. Meili had given them until then—and they weren't back. They watched out the window of their office, expression twisted.

"Meili…?" someone called from the doorway.

Damn it all. "I need you to gather whoever's left. We're on a mission to find some missing Keyblade wielders."

---

-Unfortunately, these heroes were very human. Kind of changes the tone a bit when they're drowning in their own grief and doubts, doesn't it?

---

-Frigga watched as Aegir was taken away, bound in handcuffs. It should feel like a victory, but it didn't. She could feel people staring at her, the crowd murmuring.

(There was a space where Master's Defender had once rested, and it burned.)

She needed to say something, but for once, she found herself at a loss for words. She watched until Aegir was out of sight, and then she turned and left, ignoring the whispers that followed.

---

-But there's something inspiring about them too, I suppose—about people who look at ugly parts of reality and manage to find a way forward, anyways.

---

-"Where do you think you can run, Little Light?"

Brain hissed quietly, swinging his Keyblade to defend himself, and Master's Defender sang.

"Master Brain—"

"Keep moving!"

It has to be somewhere. The sooner we find it, the sooner we can finish this.

…Please. Please, I need this to end.

---

-Let me tell you a story—a story about a group of kids fighting against the odds, and a lost friend, and moving forward, for those who can.

---

-"It's you."

---

Summary for the vs. Darkness sections:

Kvasir: Continues to play with his friends, but feels uncomfortable when he looks at Mimir. Aegir comes, and the two of them talk. Mimir gradually disappears from the scene, and Kvasir, eventually, notices. He pushes against Darkness's manipulations and finds himself remembering what happened with Aegir in the real world. Darkness attempts to convince Kvasir it would be easier to purposefully ignore what his family is doing, and while Kvasir is tempted, he chooses not to. This makes Darkness turn on him; Kvasir attacks it with his Keyblade, then chases after Mimir.

Brain: Darkness continues to taunt Brain, but Brain realizes that the insects crawling across Darkness's body are eating it slowly, and that the guiltier he feels, the quicker Darkness disappears. He intentionally leans into making himself feel guiltier, which eventually destroys Darkness. He still feels on-edge after the confrontation, and that drives him to try to hunt down Sigurd so that they can find the black box and trap Darkness, preventing them from causing more harm to his friends.

Skuld: Runs away from her doppelganger initially, but finds herself followed when she walks in what's essentially one big circle. The girl—who identifies herself as Subject X—follows her as she tries to find her way out. Slowly, Skuld realizes Subject X is her from another future, and Subject X realizes that Skuld is just as trapped her as she is. A monster made of fire tears its way out of Subject X's body, but is bound and trapped. It struggles and shouts at Skuld, but it sets the area on fire while doing so. Skuld, while initially ready to give up, realizes that she might be able to free the creature and get out. This works, and Skuld is sent on to find Mimir.

Sigurd: Sees visions in the mirror—first of his younger self talking to Luxu and making a deal to protect Brain, then of a slightly older version of him talking to a different version of Luxu, then of him taking orders from Frigga, all while he struggles to hold onto his memories. He sees an image of the black box in the mirror, but is abruptly pulled out of the vision by Brain, which helps him get his memories back. Darkness chases them down, and while Brain tries to protect them, they're eventually both swallowed by it.

MADE IT. This thing is nearly 70 pages, and while I was DEFINITELY excited to finally get to this chapter, I am…so tired…

Uh. Most of the notes I have for this chapter are on the Darknesses themselves, haha—and like I said last chapter, I have a whole Tumblr post for that! Which I can now post, since it doesn't have spoilers anymore. So go ahead and check it out if you want to watch me ramble, haha.

Oh, also! The reason I said I wanted to do most of Skuld's stuff last chapter is because, initially, the whole thing with Mimir went down a bit differently! Basically, Skuld was going to be the only one to fight them at first, and Kvasir would come in later. Like Frigga's fight with Aegir, we would've gone back to Skuld's fight with Mimir between the sections of the rest of the crew dealing with their own confrontations with Darkness. (Also, it would've meant that we actually got to see Skuld's "creature" with the others, haha.)