Taking Back the Crown

by JCMorrigan

Mozenrath. Archibald Snatcher. Roman Torchwick. Mad Madam Mim. Yzma. The Huntsman. Wuya. Ayam Aghoul. Their mission: take over the multiverse, or look fabulous trying. Rated M for swearing, steamy implications and VERY bloody battles. Contains slash and het shipping.

57. The Sword and the Serpent

A/N: Trigger warning on this and the next few chapters for blood and gore. You'll see why once the arc we're doing becomes clear. Also, GAVillain has come on board as my beta reader, and MEGA thanks to him!

57. The Sword and the Serpent

Halfway across Hyrule Field, Mozenrath realized his heart wasn't broken.

Something hadn't been sitting right with him since the discussion atop the Arbiter's Grounds – no, before that. Everyone had their moments of weakness. But Mozenrath didn't consider himself part of "everyone." And after hashing it out, he felt like he still hadn't struck at the heart of the issue with the Huntsman.

As half the accompanying group sang along to Demyx's latest musical number of choice and the other half chatted, Mozenrath plunged deep into thought and finally applied a label to what he had been feeling. Or was it more accurately what he had been "thinking"? Or did the two blend together?

Because it wasn't longing for the Huntsman's affection or company that kept him bound up in distress. It was something far less emotionally impactful. It was Mozenrath's own obsessive nature.

In all the time he had been aware of Agrabah's existence on the map and desired to take it for himself, he had only launched a few schemes to do so. Aladdin had doubtless seen a myriad of other adventures in between encounters with Mozenrath. No doubt Aladdin had written it off to Mozenrath not being able to escape his various defeats for some time. Perhaps he had suspected a lack of ideas, but that wasn't true. The fact was that every time Mozenrath's carefully crafted plans were brought down, he would sink into a spiral of rage and denial that would block out all desire to begin anew. Why hadn't the last plan worked, if Mozenrath had taken such care to make it foolproof? How did Aladdin keep getting the better of him? It couldn't have been a weakness on Mozenrath's part. But each time, he assumed his gambit to be perfect, allowing the occasional workaround for such small stitches to come loose as the rampant Thirdac. That was solved easily with a backup plan.

But Dagger Rock. Amin Damoola. The Sun of Shamash. Mozenrath hadn't foreseen failure in any of these ventures, and yet the victory he had been so assured of had been swiped from him each time. He would go over the events repeatedly in his mind, stirring them up into a cooking pot of ire. And the dish had a bitter taste that wouldn't leave Mozenrath's mouth for weeks.

The Huntsman had been a friend, true. He had held Mozenrath's affections, yes. But he had also been part of a plan, and a quite essential part to boot. The WHAM ARMY was the latest venture. It was also, as far as Mozenrath could recall, the only one where he had any sort of emotional stake beyond pride. The Huntsman had broken himself off from the plan. He had turned Mozenrath down in more ways than one, and while Mozenrath was quite aware he could have changed the Huntsman's mind through some more unsavory methods of torture, the emotional stake prevented him from taking action. As far as he was concerned, he had no control over the Huntsman's decisions, and that had left him with yet another failed plan.

Mozenrath, ultimately, hadn't gotten what he wanted, and now it was locked on replay in his mind. It all became clear once he recognized the pattern. It was a relief, he thought, to know it was a problem rooted in his head rather than his heart. The solution was simple on paper: find a new plan – or, in this case, focus on the current one despite any missing elements.

First, he had to cover his tracks.

"Regarding what we talked about on – " he began.

Nobody listened; they carried on singing and chatting.

Mozenrath lifted a hand, intending to call down a bolt of lightning and an accompanying thunderclap to get everyone's attention. But the act of doing so gave him a shudder; putting any conscious spell through the gauntlet would threaten the security of the five physical bodies he was holding out of spirit form. Better he find that out now than on the battlefield, he realized. So he cleared his throat and attempted again:

"REGARDING WHAT WE TALKED ABOUT ON THE ARBITER'S GROUNDS – "

This time, everyone realized Mozenrath was trying to get attention, and so Demyx, Roman, Zevon, Irmaplotz, Yzma, Wuya, and Hans fell silent, looking to him.

"…Forget it happened," Mozenrath said stonily. Already he was wishing he hadn't so much as looked at the horizon.

"Gladly," Roman said without missing a beat. "No offense, but I wasn't looking forward to playing therapist for the rest of this trip. Or ever again."

"I actually didn't mind sharing feelings," Irmaplotz volunteered.

"Then start a journal when you get back home," Yzma snapped.

"So, what," Wuya sighed, "you leave me out of an entire conversation and then put a ban on bringing it up before I can know what it was?"

"It was basically Mozenrath being hysterionic for half an hour," Zevon caught up.

"I was being neither hysteric nor histrionic," Mozenrath grunted through gritted teeth, "but all the same, we're not talking about it anymore. I don't want it ever brought up again."

"If all you did while I was gone was mope," Wuya relented, "I'm glad I wasn't there for it. I'm actually all for a ban on moping in general."

"I'M in charge," Mozenrath reminded her, "and I'LL decide when there's a ban on moping." He paused a moment, then said, "Moping is banned."

"Does complaining count as moping?" Demyx asked.

"No – " Mozenrath began, but thought better of it, knowing Demyx. "Actually, yes. Complaining is a subsidiary of moping."

"Aw, man!" Demyx groaned. "But I wanna be able to complain about things!"

"YOU ARE LITERALLY COMPLAINING ABOUT NOT BEING ABLE TO COMPLAIN," Mozenrath growled, "AND I JUST BANNED THAT. Anyway, end of story, end of discussion. We're focusing on the mission at hand."

At some point, he always had to make the conscious decision to stop languishing on an old scheme so he could draw up the plans for a new one. So he set the thought of the Huntsman aside and filled that space with the Fused Shadow. Already, it felt an eternity better.

Though it did slip his mind that perhaps he should get in contact with Snatcher and tell him to abort mission regarding speaking to the Huntsman.

"We are here to have fun, after all," Wuya agreed.

"It's definitely going to be fun," Mozenrath decided. "Especially if we get to stomp in the faces of FOUR of Maleficent's elite. There's just…one small problem."

"Why is it that whenever someone says there's one small problem," Yzma brought up, "it usually means an earth-shatteringly big problem?"

"I can't use my hand without letting go of the rest of your physical forms," Mozenrath admitted. "I can either use magic to fight and let over half of our force become useless, or I can be useless and keep you all in the game. Neither is ideal, but I'm not dumb enough to reduce our numbers by over half."

"It'd still be you, Eyeliner, and Bookworm against one person," Roman pointed out. "That's our three biggest powerhouses."

"True, true…" Mozenrath mulled over.

"You're not counting the literally infinite Heartless Maleficent is known to let her subordinates have access to," Wuya pointed out, "and, most importantly, the guardian spirit itself, which will have been trained to take out anything the generals see as a threat. We need numbers. Though Mozenrath doesn't have to be useless."

She gripped thin air, making a drawing motion and pulling a gleaming sword – a dao – from nowhere. She then thrust the grip into Mozenrath's hand. "Now you're not useless," she stated.

"Right," Mozenrath replied.

She caught the uncertainty in his voice. "You…do know how to use a sword, right?"

"It can't be hard to figure out," Mozenrath replied, sounding slightly more self-assured.

"Never mind," Wuya sighed. "You're useless."

"No, I'm NOT!" Mozenrath growled. "Look!"

He made several awkward swinging motions with the sword, forcing everyone to back up several paces to avoid getting sliced. Eventually, Mozenrath lost his grip altogether, dropping the flat of the blade on his foot.

"Wow," Roman remarked. "It's like watching Archie try to use a scroll."

"Actually, your form's not bad," Hans commented.

"Were we watching the same person?" Yzma asked.

"No, no," Hans insisted, "I used to make the same mistake when I started out. It's not perfect, but it's not a bad starting point. I'm guessing you're a fast learner, Mozenrath."

Seeing he could no longer pretend he had any prowess with the blade, Mozenrath changed charades: "I am."

"Make me one," Hans implored Wuya. "I want to show him a few improvements." He looked to Mozenrath. "If I'm not overstepping my bounds."

Mozenrath didn't feel all that great about having to learn anything, thereby admitting he could be shown up at such a thing by a teacher, especially if that teacher were the newest addition to the group.

"Really, it won't take long," Hans insisted. "You knew exactly how to start."

But Hans was a good flatterer, and Mozenrath at least wanted to humor him in exchange for that. "Fine," he relented, picking up the dao. "Show me."

"All yours," Wuya said as she handed Hans a second dao.

Hans struck a battle pose as he faced Mozenrath. "Start by copying my stance," Hans directed.

Mozenrath did so.

"Are you sure we should have given them blades with actual sharp edges?" Yzma whispered to Wuya.

"Too late to turn back now," Wuya responded.

Hans talked Mozenrath through a short mock duel, stroke by stroke, parry by parry. It turned out Hans had been correct about Mozenrath being a fast learner in some capacity; while Mozenrath still looked clumsy, at least he was getting the blade to go where he wanted it without instruction from Hans at all, pace quickening, and he hadn't dropped it, which was a good sign.

When the practice duel ended with Mozenrath's blade held up to Hans' throat, Hans let his sword fall to the ground, looking almost nervous through his coy smile. "Looks like you got me right where you want me," he teased.

Mozenrath lowered his blade. "Afraid I'll leave a mark on that pretty face?" he replied with a smirk.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't," Hans told him. "This face is a better weapon than any sword in a lot of situations."

They resumed walking. "Well, Wuya," Mozenrath addressed, "you know the lay of the land. If you know the guardian spirit's weak point, now would be the appropriate time to reveal it."

"They don't have one," Wuya stated coldly. "You're all going to have to deal with holding it off while I engage the general."

"And why am I not the one engaging the general?" Mozenrath asked.

"Because I have to be the one to strip the Triforce of Power off them," Wuya emphasized.

"You can do that?" Zevon asked, amazed.

"I'm sure I know the spell that will manage," Wuya informed him. "And any other of you who wants it can pry the Triforce off my cold, dead hand. I'm going to be the one to collect it and I'm going to be the one to overthrow Ganondorf with it."

"AFTER we break into the Twilight Realm," Mozenrath broke in.

"Right," Wuya said. "I'm going to be the one to open that barrier, too. Does anyone have any objections? Because I can assure you, you don't want to have any objections."

"Well, Ganondorf was your problem," Mozenrath said with a shrug. "It seems only fair you get to engage him."

"Anyone else?" Wuya asked.

The others mouthed approval of Wuya's version of the plan.

"Good," Wuya said. "We're in agreement."

...

The Radiant Garden contingent crowded around Mickey in the computer room near the labs, watching as he fired up the machine with a few keystrokes. Donald and Goofy stood to either side of him, reminiscing upon the last time they'd dealt with that particular computer and the whole world inside of it. This seemed a much more mundane task.

Cid provided Mickey with the proper passwords to bypass Ansem's security, and Mickey soon announced, "I'm in the system. Now to link up to the Disney Castle mainframe!"

More waiting and watching as Mickey typed. "Got it!" the mouse king announced. "Now for the hard part: decrypting the password for the Claymores. Hmm. Where to start?"

"Shot in the dark here," Nora suggested, "but what if it's seriously just 'Mozenrath'?"

"He wouldn't be that dumb," Nick commented.

"Really?" Nora countered. "Are you sure about that?"

Mickey entered the name. "Nope," he announced. "Didn't work. Any other ideas?"

"What was special to him?" Madison asked, turning to Genie, Sadira, and Abu, the latter of whom perched upon Sadira's shoulder. "What did Mozenrath really care about?"

"Magic," Sadira answered.

"The throne of the Black Sands, if anything," Genie suggested.

Abu made a series of high-pitched cheeping noises.

"Try those," Madison suggested.

But it was to no avail. "We're going to have to go around this a different way," Mickey realized. "Either legitimate decryption or hacking."

"I can help ya some there," Cid offered, "but not all the way. This ol' computer's a finicky bastard."

"Between our Ansem using it, Maleficent and the other Ansem trading it off, and Xemnas employing it in his experiments after the formation of the Organization," Ienzo explained, "it's a wonder it still works. Half of the functions are off kilter. The trash bin doesn't even let you throw out any trash."

"But some programs do still work," Aerith confirmed. "We can talk you through it."

"So, uh…no offense, but how long is this gonna take?" Chip asked.

"As long as it needs to!" Donald huffed.

"Gosh, it's gotta be boring just watchin' us type on this computer," Mickey realized. "How about you all go about doing what you need to do, or at least go have some fun? Donald, Goofy, Cid, Aerith, and I can handle the password. We'll tell everyone else once we have news!"

Aerith turned to Ienzo. "You could probably help us, too."

"Less than you'd think," Ienzo told her. "The most I know about this system is the experiments Xemnas used it for, and those aren't going to be helpful in this case. He never set up a link to Disney Castle. I'm afraid I'll be rather useless."

Aerith nodded. "All right. Then you should go take some time off."

"There's always work to be done," he told her, but he turned to leave the room anyway.

The entire group save the five Mickey had named dispersed from the room. Leon approached Sadira, asking, "Can I talk to you in the hourglass room for a minute?"

"Sure," Sadira agreed, following Leon to the designated place.

Jaune weaved through the crowd to catch up to Kairi. "Uh…hey," he greeted. "Where are you going?"

"I haven't quite decided yet," Kairi admitted. "What about you?"

"Well, I, uh…" Jaune flushed, clearly nervous. "There's…something I wanted to talk to you about. Something important. And I kind of wanted to tell you…alone."

"Okay," Kairi said with a nod, appearing calm on the outside despite the pounding of her heart as she considered what Jaune might have wanted to pull her aside for. "Should we talk in your room? Or how about mine?"

"Actually, can we go somewhere kinda…nice?" Jaune asked. "Just to fit the mood."

"How about we go for a walk in the town square?" Kairi asked excitedly. "The sun's out, and it's a beautiful day! No one should be listening to us."

"That sounds perfect!" Jaune replied with enthusiasm.

They strolled together out of the castle, down the road and into the center of town. All the while, Jaune fumbled for how to put together his words. "So, uh…" he began once they were beneath the shining sun. "I've been thinking – "

Kairi was attentive until they crossed the threshold of the central square, at which point her focus was brought down hard elsewhere. "Oh, Jaune! LOOK!" she cried, rushing toward a great swath of soil embedded in the cobblestone. There were in fact four such patches, forming quadrants that surrounded the walking area. In each patch, bunches of tiny flowers of all colors had cropped up.

"The flowers!" Kairi gasped as she knelt near a patch that bore red blooms. "Jaune, these used to grow when I was a kid. When I actually lived here. I forgot all about them until I saw the patches of dirt a while ago. After the town was reclaimed from Maleficent, nobody had time to replant the flowers. But now they're growing again! And…" She then realized how rudely she'd interrupted Jaune, standing to face him. "Sorry," she said sheepishly. "I shouldn't have interrupted."

But Jaune was smiling. "No, no, it's okay!" he assured her. "I know how important that stuff is. I'm glad it's making you happy." He didn't know when he would ever see Vale in a state other than disrepair, and he would have given a great deal to be able to look over familiar sights like that again. To that end, he wanted Kairi to have her flowers. He wanted proof that beauty could grow in a home that had once been destroyed, and he wanted it to be hers.

"Well, I should still listen to you when you're trying to tell me something important," Kairi emphasized, walking back to where Jaune stood. Automatically, their feet were set into synchronized motion, taking them upward to where the road formed ledges above the flower garden and bringing them in a circular direction around it. "You said you'd been thinking about something."

"Well, yeah," Jaune picked up. "Just…how uncertain everything is. If my Semblance wasn't what it was, we would have lost Nora on Atmos. But the other problem is that if it had been anyone but Nora, I wouldn't have been able to save them. If it had been you…I wouldn't have been able to…to…" He faltered, forcing himself to start a new sentence. "There's just danger everywhere. And we've been getting really lucky. I don't know when something might happen to…to break us apart." He wanted desperately to move away from the topic of death. "And that got me thinking. If there's something I've been keeping from someone else, something that could let them know how really valuable for me, I need to say it now, in case – well, in case." He stopped, standing still. "Kairi…can you…look at me?"

She wondered if he was about to say what she thought he was going to say. What she hoped he was going to say. Both eager and nervous, she halted her own footsteps, meeting Jaune's deep blue gaze.

"I think you're one of the kindest, most amazing people I've ever met," Jaune told her. "You're strong, too, and you know how to keep everyone else around you going strong when things look really bad. Every day since I met you, I've been really glad I DID meet you. Sometimes I can't believe how lucky I am that we're friends. But the thing is, it's not JUST…I mean, friendship is great and all, and I love you as a friend – not that I LOVE you, but I DO…well…like you. And I mean I LIKE you like you. I have for a while. And I just thought you needed to know. Don't feel like you have to like me back. Though, okay, yeah, I'd love if you did. But I just wanted to tell you in case…well, you can imagine in case what. And that's why I wanted to talk to you, and now you know, and now I'm just kinda rambling because I have no idea how to stop, so I should stop, and I'm gonna stop." He clamped his lips shut, watching Kairi's reaction.

She had pressed both hands against her mouth, her eyes staring wide. "Jaune!" she squeaked once he'd finished. "I can't…" She lowered her hands, revealing a beaming smile. "You're amazing, Jaune. You know that? You care about everyone so much. You're kind, too, and brave, for everything you did. I'm so glad we're friends, but the truth is that I like you too! In the same way!"

"I'd been wondering," Jaune confessed. "Sometimes I thought I saw signs. But our friendship mattered first."

"I'd been wondering about you, too," Kairi admitted, "but…what about…"

"Pyrrha?" Jaune filled in. "She'd want me to move on. And the thing is, I did. I don't really even remember when it happened. But I moved on. And…since we both feel the same about each other…do you think maybe, since we have all this time, we could…go on a date?"

"I'd LOVE to go on a date!" Kairi replied. "I know a lot of nice cafés here in town where we can sit and talk over some tea, if that's what you'd like to do."

"That sounds perfect, actually," Jaune told her. "Why don't you show me your favorite?"

"Okay!" Kairi nodded. "This way!" She geared up to run off, but was held back. Now that certain barriers were down, she wished for just a little more contact. "Do you mind if I hold your hand on the way there?" she asked shyly.

"I'd love that," Jaune replied.

She laced her fingers into his, and they started out slow, then picked up speed until they were running, Kairi guiding their direction. The sunlight seemed to put extra air beneath their feet and inflate both their hearts with joy, but perhaps it wasn't the sun at all, but their proximity to each other.

...

Alone in her apartment, Scarlet Overkill stood before a full-length mirror. She twirled, watching her skirt spin out. Herb had hinted at designing her an upgraded version of the dress, with more room to store weaponry. She was sure whatever he came up with would be diabolically lovely.

The tiara rested on a nearby table. Carefully sweeping it up into hand, Scarlet settled it among her high-stacked hair, giving the mirror a proud grin. She put up a hand to wave delicately, saying "Thank you, thank you all!" to an imaginary crowd. Lowering the hand, she went on: "Now, for my first act as queen, I'm declaring my birthday a national holiday. Getting your queen a present is compulsory, and anyone who doesn't comply WILL be jailed."

She giggled at that. "Which reminds me, I have a warrant out for arrest for a certain child carrying a freeze ray around like it's a toy. I demand he be brought to me at once so that I may sentence him to a lifetime of imprison – " She gasped. "NO! To an instant, bloody EXECUTION!" Thinking it over… "Make that a slow execution. I don't have a torture chamber for nothing, after all."

An insistent rap came upon the door.

"Coming!" Scarlet barked, quickly setting the tiara aside. She scuttled toward the door.

And just as she realized it was odd that the visitor hadn't spoken, the knock came again, accompanied by a voice – a high, tinny voice. "SCARLET!" it belted.

Scarlet froze. The voice was unmistakable. And knowing it was who it was, she was not about to open that door. She backed up, step by step.

More knocks, from at least three tiny fists. High-pitched babbling, culminating in a chorus of voices squeaking "SCARLET! SCARLET! SCARLET!"

"Just go away," she whispered to herself. She dipped into the bedroom, reappearing with the lava gun. If they weren't going to leave her alone, they were going to learn a very painful lesson. How had they gotten into the base, anyhow? Why hadn't they been noticed by anyone else? Or had they been noticed by Mim and Aghoul, who thought sending them to Scarlet's door would be a hilarious joke?

The chanting was now louder, more insistent: "SCAR-LET! SCAR-LET! SCAR-LET!"

"Rrrrrgh…" Scarlet growled, hoisting the gun high as she stormed to the door. "I'M GIVING YOU ALL UNTIL THE COUNT OF THREE TO GO AWAY!" she yelled.

That induced a silence.

"ONE…"

Still no sound ensued.

"TWO…"

Perhaps they'd left, Scarlet thought once her threat was two-thirds completed. Cautiously, she reached for the door, turning the handle. She thought about easing it slowly open, then decided it was better to rip the bandage off in one motion.

As she flung the door open, she was greeted by the sight of a horde of them. Minions. Every single tiny yellow blob dressed in the same denim overalls and goggles. They filled the hallway, throwing up their hands in the air and cheering at Scarlet's appearance.

"SCARLEEEEEEEET!" they chorused.

With a wordless yell, Scarlet pulled the trigger on the gun, letting the lava spew forth and cover her targets. She absolutely drenched every last Minion, waiting for the burning to ensue.

It rolled off them like water off a duck. Had Minions always been this resistant to extreme, metal-melting temperatures? Admittedly, Scarlet hadn't expected that.

She didn't have much time to reel in confusion. As she regarded the Minions, eyes wide, they began to pour into her apartment, hands reaching out to grab her. "SCAR-LET!" they chanted again. "SCAR-LET! SCAR-LET!"

The Minions had always idolized her. Had followed her around like ducklings imprinting on a mother. Yet somehow, Scarlet had a strong feeling of unease, as though she knew that this time, the Minions meant her some sort of harm.

She swung the now empty gun, batting the first wave of them away. Leaping out into the hallway, her shoes bounced off their heads; she bounded over the crowd until she hit a bare patch of hall and could take off running, which she did immediately.

With a cacophony of squeaking, the Minions gave chase, surging forth like a demonic tidal wave. Scarlet kept glancing over her shoulder, fearing them getting close to her. The hallway stretched on and on; surely Scarlet had to be getting close to a landmark of note, a route of deviation, or another member of the WHAM ARMY who could sort this out. But there was only more hall the further Scarlet ran.

She couldn't say exactly why she knew the Minions catching up to her would mean certain doom. She was convinced of it. And she was about to be proven horribly correct.

Scarlet shot another glance over her shoulder at the mass of yellow and denim. When she turned back, she saw Herb further down the hall, regarding her with confusion. "Scarlet?" he said tentatively.

"Herb!" she yelled. "HERB, RUN!"

Herb just laughed. "Scarlet, what's the big deal?" he said casually as she neared him, reached out to grab his upper arm and drag him along. "They're harmless, remember?"

"WE HAVE TO GO!" Scarlet insisted, forcing Herb to follow her.

He snapped his arm out of her grip, turning to face the wave of Minions – all seeming to bleed into one vast being – head-on. "Hey, little guys!" he laughed. "What's been shakin'?"

"Herb, NO!" Scarlet rounded to see the view.

The Minions washed over Herb, engulfing him. She heard his cries of sudden fear: "Um, what are you doing? Hey, don't – don't DO that – NO! NO, PLEASE, NO – "

A sound like tearing paper and crackling twigs.

But Scarlet knew that wasn't what it was when she saw a disembodied arm, then a leg, surface atop the crowd, surfing the wave, passed from Minion to Minion. A considerable segment of the rush was now soaked red with blood, and the pieces of Herb kept on bobbing up. The fact that he was no longer screaming for them to stop let Scarlet know that he was beyond salvation.

They'd nearly gained on her. Not wanting to meet the same fate as her love, Scarlet began to sprint again, barreling down the hall. It had to turn, it had to fork, there had to be a door to one of the public rooms just up ahead –

The heaviness throbbing within her that Herb was gone, gone, gone –

...

Scarlet woke up screaming, sitting up sharply in bed.

Next to her, Herb jostled a bit before rolling over on his side and solidifying his sleep.

A nightmare. It had all been a nightmare. There were no Minions in the base. Especially not ones out for Overkill blood.

Scarlet shuddered. She looked upon Herb for a good five minutes to confirm that he was there, that he was breathing.

Then she slid out of bed, her feet padding toward the kitchen. She needed a hot drink.

...

Alone in the hourglass room, Leon and Sadira stared each other down.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Sadira asked coyly.

Leon nodded toward the hourglass. "You did fine work."

"Thank you." Sadira gave an exaggeratedly dramatic shrug. "I try."

"It occurred to me that we may not have properly thanked you for this," Leon went on.

"Well, you did," Sadira told him. "Just now."

"No," Leon corrected, fishing a pouch from within a pocket. "I had something else in mind." He held out his hand, which now bore a lumpy brown purse. After Sadira gave the purse a quizzical look, Leon commanded, "Take it."

Sadira gently took the purse into her own hands, opening it up and shifting the contents about. "Wow," she remarked. "There is…a LOT of munny in here." She turned her gaze up to Leon. "Waiiiiiit a minute. You're not giving me this out of charity, are you? Because I don't take charity."

"It's honest pay for honest work," Leon told her, though he'd suspected she wouldn't take well to the idea of charity from the beginning. "It wouldn't be fair to ask this of you for nothing." He thought to himself that if the extended stays the castle's various guests were making turned out to be longer still, he and the rest of the Committee would have to come up with ways to provide for them while they were away from home, and it would get more and more difficult to claim it wasn't charity. This, however, he could give with a valid explanation.

"I've never really had this kind of money all at once," Sadira admitted. "I don't even know what to do with it."

"Well – " Leon began.

"That's a lie," Sadira said quickly, her eyes lighting up. "I know EXACTLY what I'm doing with this!" Excited, she turned on a heel to exit the room. Twisting back over her shoulder as she ran, she put up a hand and waved, calling out, "Thanks, Leon!"

Leon folded his arms and let himself smile.

...

Link, Zelda, and Midna guided their newfound companions across a vast expanse of Twilight-touched land, forging a way into a heavily wooded forest where shadows grew long even in the absence of sunlight. The way to the resting place of the Master Sword was hidden in a cliffside and past a network of caverns that connected segments of forestation.

"This used to feel a lot more like the sacred place it is," Link lamented as he beheld the warped wood.

"It looks like it was really pretty," Sora agreed.

"Now it's all…wrong," Jasmine said with disgust.

"Is it?" Midna sniffed. "I suppose. This was a world of Light, after all."

"It feels…corrupted," Jasmine went on.

"What do you mean, 'corrupted'?" Midna asked. "Are you saying you can just feel it on your skin?"

"It's more like I can feel it inside," Jasmine corrected. "I think…being a Princess of Heart and being connected to the Light allows me to feel that corruption."

"I don't like the way you're saying 'corruption,'" Midna growled.

"What, is there any other word for it?" Aladdin, ever loyal to Jasmine, asked with an edge to his voice.

"We will save this place," Zelda stated. "We will return the Light to it."

"The sooner this evil is gone, the better," Aladdin emphasized.

"You know," Midna snapped, "just because the Twilight doesn't belong here doesn't mean it doesn't belong anywhere! If you really think that, maybe you just want me gone! Is that it?"

"That's not what she means, Midna," Zelda said calmly.

"What?" Aladdin asked. "Was Jasmine wrong?"

"Did you already forget?" Midna barked. "My whole world is Twilight! This is how I live every day, and it suits me just fine! It's not evil! It's just misplaced!"

"Well," Aladdin replied, "I…what I meant was…"

"It's all right," Jasmine said, realizing the mistake she made. "I wasn't thinking. I did forget, and I apologize."

"Yeah…me too," Aladdin said sheepishly.

"Hmph!" Midna huffed. "I'm glad I know how you REALLY feel now!"

"She said she was sorry," Katara pointed out. "I think we're all too used to thinking like people who belong to worlds of Light."

"I thought you'd understand that Light isn't the be-all end-all," Midna answered with a tint of curiosity in her voice. "One of your friends is still pretty good friends with outright Darkness."

"That's right!" Aladdin realized, looking to Riku. "Hey, Riku, sorry if I – "

"Don't worry about it," Riku replied calmly. "I wasn't offended. But it is a mistake to think that just because something is close to Darkness, it's evil. The Darkness is where evil lurks because it can't be seen. But there are lots of things in the dark that aren't what you think."

"Does that mean the Light isn't all good either?" Ruby wondered out loud.

"I've never met a bad source of Light," Sora mused. "I guess it's possible for there to be bad Light out there."

"When I get too close to pure Light," Midna explained, "it burns. Maybe it's not evil, but it sure does hurt."

"Too much Light can probably be as hurtful as too much Darkness," Jasmine theorized. "Knowing that…I won't think of the Twilight as evil again. Like you said, it's just misplaced."

"I'm gonna trust you on this one," Aladdin told Midna.

"That was a nice apology," Midna said haughtily, "but you're going to have to make it up to me."

"How?" Jasmine asked.

"I haven't decided," Midna answered. "Maybe I'll make you catch me a hundred reekfish and make me a nice soup out of them. Or maybe I'll just make you declare to all of your friends that I'm more beautiful than all of them."

"We're not doing that!" Aladdin snapped.

Midna turned and gave the royal pair a wink. "Oh," Jasmine realized. "You were joking."

"I SHOULD HOPE SHE WAS!" Papyrus broke in. "HER, MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN ME? I THINK NOT!"

"I know this is going to sound like I'm just trying to pander," Stork said, "but I'm actually starting to find this whole Twilight thing kind of calming. I might even call it 'ambient.'"

"Trust me," Ruby told Midna, "he's not pandering."

"Your whole world is like this?" Stork went on. "I'd like to see that."

"Let's focus on saving this one first," Midna suggested.

The path brought them to a sudden drop; a pit, though one with enough stonework left over that it had clearly once been a rounded tower, loomed below, and an exit seemed to continue from there. Link took a running leap off the edge of the ground above, landing with bent knees in the pit below.

"That, on the other hand, does not look safe," Stork observed.

"It's not that bad of a jump," Aladdin stated after sizing up the drop; he plunged after Link. Upon landing, he turned back and called up, "It's not as far down as it looks!"

One by one, all made the jump down into the pit, with Stork going last. The party then continued through a crevice in the wall and came out at a wide, square field walled in by stone. At one end, a door was flanked by a pair of enormous stone humanoids. Grass sprouted up from the ground, but was clear around a square space that held a tile carved with the triangular symbol of the Triforce.

"Stand back," Link advised. "I think I'm the only one who can do this." He strode onto the tile, taking a deep breath as he did so.

Once he had positioned himself upon the tile, the others, save Midna, were surprised to hear a deep voice rumble out from one of the stone statues: "We are…guardians…"

Link and Midna immediately knew it was not as it should have been. The guardians had previously spoken in deep, booming tones, without hesitation. Now affected by the Twilight, their speech was altered, tentative, with more gravel and hush.

"We recall…a beast…" the other said. "Barely, but…we recall…"

"You were…that beast…" the first continued. "We granted…"

"Passage…" the other finished. "Now…we do not know…"

"How to…test the unworthy…we simply hope…"

"The worthy…return. Are you…the one…we remember?"

"If so…please…claim the power of the goddesses again…"

"Save us…"

The door slid upward into the wall with no further protest from the guardians. A stairway was revealed beyond, leading upward. To the surprise of all gathered, however, there was a faint illumination touching the base of the stairway: light.

"Let's go," Link commanded, and the group filtered into the doorway and up the steps.

At the zenith, what awaited was not more woodland infected by Twilight, but instead a clearing, surrounded by trees, that appeared wholly unaffected at all: its grass was still green, the air light. In the grove's center, what was clearly a sword was planted into a small stone dais so that it stood upright. A soft light pulsed out from the weapon.

Link approached gingerly; most of the others watched in awe, while Midna regarded the scene with casual familiarity. Link's hand settled around the grip of the sword – a metal dyed purple, sweeping outward to either side like wings – and he hoisted the sword upward, the light from its blade increasing in intensity as he did so. It gleamed so brightly, the others had to shield their eyes, and Midna felt a strong heat emanating from the sword's general direction.

Once the sword was raised, the blessing over the clearing was broken. Twilight crawled in, tinting the scenery dark.

"You know," Ruby remarked with her eyes upon the blade, "combination weapons are well-suited for the modern huntress, but you really can't beat the classics."

Link sheathed the sword at the empty place in his belt where he had brought the inferior weapon to Zelda's ceremony of matrimony. "This should help us," he remarked.

"Unless, of course, we were wrong about the whole 'sol' thing and that sword does us absolutely no good," Stork commented.

"I THINK IT'S GOING TO WORK!" Papyrus insisted.

"We don't have another choice," Riku reminded everyone, "so we might as well hope for the best."

"We can start with the Faron province," Link announced. "It's closest – "

"No," Zelda broke in. "We should start with the Lanayru province. That will liberate Castle Town and free our friends who are gathered there."

"If we have allies in Castle Town," Jasmine added, "maybe it would be better to start there."

"Either way sounds good to me," Sora said with a shrug.

"Well, this is Zelda's kingdom," Katara pointed out, "so maybe we should go with her."

"I won't argue," Midna chimed in.

Zelda nodded. "Then we will go to the spirit Lanayru first."

...

Herb Overkill was brought out of sleep gently, taking a few moments to transition into full consciousness. What exactly woke him, he couldn't define; it was best described as the feeling that something was fundamentally wrong.

He donned clothing suitable for daytime tasks and entered the kitchen of his and Scarlet's apartment, where the aforementioned woman was seated at the table, staring down into a cup of hot chocolate.

When Scarlet became aware of Herb's presence, her head snapped right up, and she stood in the blink of an eye, darting across the room to wrap Herb in an embrace. "Oh, Herb…"

"Scarlet?" Herb replied, perplexed, as he placed a single hand on Scarlet's back to offer comfort. "What's going on?"

"I had the worst nightmare," Scarlet groaned.

"All this over a nightmare?"

"Well, it wasn't just ANY nightmare!" Scarlet explained, tightening her grip. "Those filthy little CREATURES were back, and they wouldn't stop chasing me, and they got ahold of you, and…ohhh, honey, I'm just glad you're safe."

She let go then, backing off. "I know, I know," she sighed, "it's silly getting this worked up over a little bad dream…"

"Well, that's just how it is sometimes," Herb said with a shrug. "Go with the flow. I am not here to judge how you react to a nightmare."

"Good," Scarlet sighed. "Anyway, I'd really like to change the subject. And change the scenery, come to think of it."

"Then let's get out of here," Herb agreed. He approached the apartment door, holding it open wide. "After you, my queen."

"Oh, stop," Scarlet replied, giving Herb's cheek a coy pinch on her way out. Herb followed her into the great hall, impressed as usual by the iron chandelier that loomed overhead, dominating the room's décor.

"So," Scarlet began, "now that we're here and we know the ins and outs of the base, I figured we should learn a little more about the other worlds around us. Maybe get an idea of which one we could make into our own personal kingdom after the big spell gets cast."

The chandelier, Herb realized, looked almost exactly the same as the one that had hung over Scarlet's coronation day. The one the Minions had dropped on her. The difference, of course, was that this one was much larger. Otherwise, it was the spitting image –

Why was he looking up at the chandelier when Scarlet was talking?

A better question: had there actually always been a chandelier here? Because Herb suddenly had the feeling he had misremembered the layout of this room entirely.

An even better question: since when did the door to the Overkill apartment lead out into this room, which Herb was now certain he'd never seen before in his life?

Instinctively, he took two steps back.

"I mean, logically speaking," Scarlet went on, "there has to be some version of England out there that – "

"SCARLET, LOOK OUT!"

Herb didn't fully know why he knew what was about to happen. He reached out toward Scarlet, now realizing he should have done something to pull her in his direction when he'd stepped back –

She danced out of his reach, directly beneath the chandelier.

With a massive metallic creak, the ceiling fixture became completely detached from above, crashing down upon Scarlet.

"NO!" Herb cried, clambering over the network of iron. "No. No, no, no, no…it's just like last time. It'll be like last time. She'll be fine…you'll be fine, my queen, you'll be – "

He choked on his own voice when he caught sight of her body pinned beneath the metal bars. Still, twisted, leaking red. The crushed state of her head caused vomit to arise to the back of Herb's throat; he forced it back down into place.

It couldn't be happening, he told himself. It wasn't real. It wasn't real –

...

It wasn't real.

Herb sat up in bed, now actually awake.

The chandelier. The crash. It had all just been a dream.

He shuddered, recalling how realistic it seemed. He'd "woken up" from the exact same place he'd fallen asleep. It was funny how the mind knew to do that when creating dreams.

Without bothering to change out of his pajamas, he made his way teeteringly to the kitchen, where Scarlet, just as in his dream, was hunched over a cup of steaming hot liquid.

She looked up sharply once he entered. In one fluid motion, she stood, rushing to Herb, catching him in an embrace as she moaned, "Oh, Herb – "

"Oh, no," Herb muttered. "No, no, no, no, no."

"I had the worst nightmare," Scarlet groaned.

"No; that's what you said the last time!" Herb cried, squirming to get free of Scarlet's grasp.

"The…last time?" Scarlet said in confusion as she let Herb go.

He rushed to the door, throwing it open. It led out into the hallway, as it always did. As it was supposed to. There was no great hall. No chandelier.

"Herb?" Scarlet asked. "Is everything okay?"

"…Yeah," Herb said tentatively, shutting the door. "So. Nightmare. What was it about?"

"It wasn't just ANY nightmare," Scarlet said sternly. "Those little CREATURES were back, and they wouldn't stop chasing me, and they got ahold of you, and – "

Herb slapped himself in the face.

"Okay, I'm missing something here," Scarlet realized.

"That is EXACTLY what you said last time," Herb said breathlessly. "It's happening again. I'm dreaming again, and you're going to die again – "

"Wait, what?" Scarlet flinched. "Herb, what do you mean die AGAIN?"

"Nightmare," Herb explained. "You said all that stuff EXACTLY. Then we went out into the hall, and there was a chandelier, and – " He opened the door again. Still the regular hallway. He shut the door.

"You had a nightmare too?" Scarlet reiterated. "Okay, that's definitely a little odd. Well, you're awake now."

"Are you SURE?" Herb asked in a panic. "Because everything's happening the EXACT same way it did in the nightmare, except that chandelier isn't there!"

"It's okay!" Scarlet said hurriedly as she rushed to Herb to lay her hands upon the sides of his face gently. "It's okay, it's all right. You're not dreaming anymore."

"How do I know?" Herb asked. "I don't know!"

"What exactly happened with the chandelier?" Scarlet asked.

"It…fell…" Herb choked out. "And…you…were under it…"

"Herb, honey," Scarlet reminded him, "I already survived one falling chandelier. I can handle another one. But your nightmare was really about losing me?"

He nodded.

"That is so sweet," Scarlet commented. "Well, okay, it's not sweet that you're terrified, but you know what I mean, right? Actually, my dream kind of ended with you getting torn to pieces, so…"

"Aw, Scarlet!" Herb remarked, forgetting his crisis of wakefulness versus repeating dream. "Guess this kinda makes us the perfect couple, doesn't it?"

"It sure does," Scarlet affirmed. "Though…something weird is going on here." She lowered her hands to her sides. "We both have nightmares around the same time. Your nightmare accurately predicts things I was going to say in real life. And I'm going to go out on a limb here and say each of our nightmares played on one of our worst fears."

"Sounds about right," Herb confirmed.

"These nightmares aren't ordinary," Scarlet muttered.

"Maybe we should go talk to the others," Herb suggested. "I mean, Mim has all those mad witch powers, right? She could make them stop."

"If she wants to," Scarlet huffed. "On the other hand, I just realized this would be exactly her idea of a prank. She BETTER not have sent us these nightmares just for fun. But I get the feeling she would."

"Yeah, she's pretty morbid," Herb realized. "What about the guy she's dating, though? Not Rémington. The other one. Ayam Aghost."

"It's Aghoul, honey. Ayam Aghoul."

"Riiiiight. That makes more sense. Because he doesn't…you can't walk through him…anyway, he kinda gives me the same vibe of thinking these nightmares would be hilarious. I wouldn't rule him out either."

"Looks like we have a talking-to to give," Scarlet grunted. "We're going to find them and make them spill the beans about what, exactly, they're doing to us."

"Good idea." Herb reached for the door, about to open it and offer that "my queen" should go first, but remembering his course of action in the nightmare stopped him.

Scarlet picked up the slack, pulling open the door. "After you?"

Herb stalked out into the hallway, shooting nervous glances at the unadorned ceiling. Scarlet followed, filled with determination.

She wasn't about to cut ties with two of the hosts that had graciously opened their base to give her and Herb a home over some nightmares. But she was about to give them the slightest of hard times if either turned out to be the responsible party.

...

Standing before the gates of the Radiant Garden castle, Archibald Snatcher mentioned, "Don't forget what we talked about, Bridgit."

"We talked about at least three hundred things about this plan," Garfield Lynns responded. "You're going to have to be more specific."

"The opening line," Snatcher clarified. "Dehydration. You're in desperate need of water, and that's how we'll get our foot in the door."

"Riiiiiight," Garfield confirmed. "Hey, isn't it kind of messed up that you're calling my dragsona by her first name, but not your own boyfriend?"

"I wouldn't do it if you weren't my daughter," Snatcher said through gritted teeth. "Believe me, it's going to take a great amount of willpower not to refer to you as 'Miss Pike.'"

"How about if you slip up and do it, you owe me twenty bucks? Or, y'know, twenty of those crystal things we used to buy these weapons."

"I'm not about to take such a fool bet, Bridgit."

"I think you're scared."

"And I do believe that is a cheap tactic used to manipulate others into taking fool bets," Snatcher argued. "Now, do cease prolonging the charade and knock on the door."

Snatcher and Garfield raised right fists at the exact same time, rapping on the door in different rhythms.

Luna, Ienzo, and Merlin exited the library together, deep in discussion. "It does amaze me," Ienzo told Merlin. "By all schools of magic I've studied, you should have had to leave your physical form behind to do such travel through time."

"Well, it is possible to travel through time without abandoning your body," Luna clarified, "but only with the use of complex incantations and rituals, and even then, only for short periods of time. What you do defies all knowledge of magic I possess."

"It wasn't easy," Merlin replied. "I've devoted at least a couple centuries to mastering the art, as I imagine anyone would have to. And you would recoil at the tales of what happened when I got it wrong! Best not remembered, any of it. I wouldn't recommend either of you undertake the study unless you had a couple hundred years to spare."

"Perhaps if I need a hobby," Luna teased. "I still have a few thousand years left in me, after all."

"Well, you can count me out," Ienzo sighed.

That was when the dual knock came upon the door. "Visitors?" Merlin identified.

"We should answer," Ienzo said, his feet already taking him in the direction of the door.

"Quite right," Merlin agreed, following Ienzo; Luna accompanied them. Before either of the men could touch the door, Luna's magic surged through the crack that separated the double halves, prying the door open to reveal two haggard-looking people – one apparently male, and one apparently female.

"This is castle of committee, no?" Snatcher said in his most convincing Russian accent.

"Yes," Ienzo said with a nod. "The Radiant Garden Restoration Committee."

"Thank heaven!" Snatcher replied. "Have been searching long time for safe place. Was told committee would protect. My daughter, she has not had water in long time, and is suffering severe dehydration."

"Oh, the heat!" Garfield moaned in his best impression of a feminine tone, swooning and collapsing in front of Snatcher and forcing the taller man to catch him in outstretched arms.

"Did not think daughter was THAT dehydrated," Snatcher grumbled, concerned that Garfield was overselling the act.

"I need water, or I will literally die right here!" Garfield went on. "Please, before I turn into a corpse before your very eyes!"

"I think committee gets point," Snatcher muttered.

"Please, come in, come in!" Merlin beckoned. "Far be it from us to deny shelter and water from those in need!"

Ienzo's eyes traveled over the strategic tears and worries in Snatcher and Garfield's clothing. "What have you been through?" he asked.

"Is long story!" Snatcher emphasized. "First, food and drink! Then telling of sad tale!"

"Can you walk?" Luna asked Garfield.

"I…I'll try…" Garfield said weakly, forcing himself to stand and putting a drag in his step. "I think…I can make it…Dad, I can see a bright light. Is that normal?"

Snatcher was highly starting to regret his choice in partner. Garfield had no sense of subtlety. "Is probably glare from natural lighting in castle," he grunted. "Now walk."

Luna, Merlin, and Ienzo were somewhat taken aback at the gruff way the older of the two visitors was addressing his clearly weakened daughter, but they supposed there would be time to address the situation later. "This way," Ienzo said as he turned to lead the group. "The kitchen is only a lift ride from here."

"Might I ask your names?" Merlin asked as the five made their way to the lifts.

"I am called Nikolai," Snatcher introduced. "Nikolai Pike. This is daughter Bridgit."

"My name is Ienzo," Ienzo responded. "These are my colleagues, Merlin and Princess Luna of Equestria. I would say it's a pleasure to meet you, but perhaps we should make your circumstances less dire before saying such things."

Within moments, the five were situated around a small table in the midst of the well-stocked kitchen, where gleaming metal pans hung off polished wooden cabinets and piping running along the ceiling occasionally leaked magic. Garfield downed half a pitcher of ice water, wishing he'd thought of some way to spin his story so that Bridgit would have been in dire need of something alcoholic instead.

"You come bearing weapons," Merlin observed.

"We are warriors," Snatcher explained. "Long and hard we have fought Heartless in collapse of homeworld."

"That is terrible," Luna commented.

"It is life," Snatcher responded. "Though committee has seen hardship among these creatures, no?"

Garfield set down the water pitcher he had been drinking straight out of, discreetly putting a hand below the table to fish a scroll out of a skirt pocket. It was time to begin recording audio.

"Frustratingly so," Merlin harrumphed. "Can't go a single day without having to put up with such nonsense. Though I daresay they haven't been as hard on us as they have on you, from the looks of things."

"Why don't you tell us what happened?" Luna asked.

"Where did you come from?" Ienzo added.

A shock of horror ran down both Snatcher and Garfield's spines. For all the plotting they had done to achieve their charade, they had not actually agreed upon a name for their destroyed homeworld.

For a moment, Snatcher thought they were saved, as Mickey Mouse chose that moment to enter the kitchen. "Heya, fellas!" he greeted. "Made some new friends?"

The rat from the castle, Snatcher identified, incorrect as he was about the species. Now his disguise would truly be put to the test; would Mickey recognize him? "'Friend' is strong word," Snatcher huffed. "Have only just met."

"I would be glad to call anyone who saved my life a friend," Garfield said with just a bit too much enthusiasm.

"The Pike family are survivors from a collapsed world," Ienzo explained. "Bridgit was on death's door when they showed up."

"Was minor case of dehydration," Snatcher grumbled.

"Gosh!" Mickey remarked. "That sounds terrible!"

"We were just about to hear their tale," Luna reminded everyone. She nodded to Snatcher. "Go on, Nikolai."

Snatcher was back on the spot, mind racing. Garfield joined that race to see who the first would be to come up with the name of their fallen world. Both figured the best strategy would be to make up a name and hope the others would take it for granted that they'd never heard of it. The predominant thought on Garfield's mind, however, was how he would much rather be having this conversation in a bar than a kitchen, and what came out of his mouth was "Uh…bar?"

Snatcher, taking a direct look at Mickey, immediately followed up with "Rat?"

"GOODNESS!" Merlin cried so suddenly that Snatcher and Garfield both flinched in their seats. "You mean to tell me you escaped the ABARAT? Be glad Heartless were the biggest of your concerns!"

"You know of their world?" Ienzo asked.

"Of course I know of their world!" Merlin said with a huff. "The Abarat has undergone a most frightening transformation headed by a powerful witch. Darkness has spread over it in what can only truly be described as…absolute midnight. Fearsome beasts of evil are tearing it apart at the seams!"

"This seems like a world we should perhaps be doing more to help," Luna suggested.

"Not without extreme organization and far more forces!" Merlin insisted. "I might be one to use the term 'disaster zone' lightly, but in this case, it is well warranted!" He turned his attention back to Snatcher and Garfield. "My deepest condolences."

"Thank you," Snatcher replied with feigned sincerity. "Escape was difficult. Bridgit's mother was lost in struggle. Mourn her every waking moment."

Now who's laying it on thick? Garfield thought.

"Is too tragic to continue talking about," Snatcher continued. "Would rather not dwell on what was lost in past. We made it here, and are looking to future."

"Well, you've come to the right place!" Mickey insisted.

"We've had all sorts of houseguests lately who've been under similar circumstances," Merlin explained.

"Many have come here in the wake of their homes meeting with tragedy, such as Luna," Ienzo explained. "Others have simply joined us out of a desire to help out."

"Help out?" Garfield asked. "With what?"

"We've had a bit of a pest problem," Merlin grunted. "I couldn't say which has been more of an annoyance: Maleficent and her goons or Mozenrath and his!"

"You would be welcome to stay," Ienzo said, "but you would have to be aware of what you're signing up for. This is a safe place, but it is still being targeted by many a foe."

"Imagine that," Snatcher replied, pushing back a smirk.

"It can't be much worse than what we've already faced," Garfield brought up.

"Say, sorry if this is rude," Mickey broke in, "but why d'ya have two different accents?"

This, Snatcher was ready for. "Made difficult move from old country to new country before Bridgit was born," he explained. "Daughter grew up with ways and vocal patterns of new country. I retained ways and accent of old. Also explains why Miss Pike has no taste for real food. Has grown up with tasteless and bland palate of…why are you staring at me like that?"

Garfield just gave Snatcher a nudge.

"Do not understand," Snatcher told Garfield.

"You don't owe me twenty," Garfield said simply.

Miss Pike. Snatcher realized it. Thankfully, none of his audience seemed to have caught on. The four onlookers tilted their heads, confused at the current conversation.

"…Is inside topic," Snatcher said quickly.

"Please tell me more about the other people who have come to stay here," Garfield urged. "I want to know who our friends are."

"I think first, we should give you a proper warning of the forces against us," Ienzo suggested. "Maleficent, Mozenrath…and none of us yet have any information on the whereabouts or actions of Xehanort, which is still worrying."

Garfield had hoped to cut right to the important information, but then realized that perhaps, this was important information. Even if it got him no closer to understanding the forces of Radiant Garden that stood against the WHAM ARMY, knowing what they knew about the WHAM ARMY could expose some weaknesses. And, moreover, if the Radiant Garden contingent had information about Maleficent the WHAM ARMY didn't, that could prove even more valuable. More significant still, Garfield hadn't even heard the name "Xehanort" before, and if it belonged to someone who was going to be a problem down the line, it would be imperative to gather that information. The scroll was still recording; there would be a lot to send back to Vexen and the Huntsman from this conversation alone.

"Tell us everything," Garfield urged, and Snatcher gave a nod of agreement.

...

Irmaplotz sidled up next to Roman Torchwick as their party made way to the first guardian's resting place. "So, Roman," Irmaplotz began.

"I better like where this is going," Roman said dryly.

"I was just wondering how it felt to finally have the teenage girl who can kick everyone's butt on YOUR side," Irmaplotz teased.

"And this was worth bothering me for?"

"Absolutely." Irmaplotz's smirk was pure mischief.

"What are you, fifteen?" Roman asked.

"Sixteen," Irmaplotz corrected.

"I was close. The point is, my nemesis is older than you. The kid was enrolled in BEACON, so she had to be at least seventeen, right? I mean, yeah, she LOOKED like a kid, but she had to be older than you. Second, she did not beat me up. I made several tactical retreats, but eventually, she got me caught between a Grimm and a hard place, which was just bad luck. Third…how did you even KNOW about that? You never leave the fucking library."

"It's more of a reading room – "

"Anyway," Roman continued, "the point is I really don't care."

"Really."

"If you're trying to get a rise out of me, it's not going to work."

"And there goes my entire plan for road trip entertainment," Irmaplotz sighed, still smirking yet.

"Like your nemesis is any less embarrassing," Roman countered.

"How do you know I even have a nemesis?" Irmaplotz asked.

"Of COURSE you have a nemesis," Roman told her. "We all have a nemesis. We draw them like flies to honey. And I'm willing to bet that yours is a complete and total wimp who keeps beating you through pure luck."

"BUT HE HAS HIS GOOD POINTS!" Irmaplotz blurted. "He's CHIVALROUS!"

Roman was taken aback. "So…I hit the nail on the head."

"He's still not that much younger than me," Irmaplotz argued.

"Also, why does it matter if he's chivalrous? Oh, don't tell me. DON'T tell me!" Roman burst into laughter. "He's the one! YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH YOUR – "

"SHUT UP!"

"Look, you can try and get my goat about a lot of things, but at least I'm not in LOVE with Red!"

"The worst part is I'm sure there are people out there who think you'd be a cute couple," Irmaplotz pointed out. "There are ALWAYS people out there who think the most dysfunctional and potentially abusive couple is the cute one."

"Um…I'm going to go ahead and say no," Roman replied, rather offput.

"Just be glad I'm not going to make you look like a fool this time," Irmaplotz concluded.

"I'm willing to bet a high sum on ME being the one who doesn't let YOU look like a fool," Roman retorted.

"This brings up some importanesting questions," Zevon brought up. "Where did you even come from? And how did you rise to power?"

"Does that really matter?" Irmaplotz asked.

"Well," Mozenrath broke in, "if you're going to fight alongside us, it would be a lot more…let's say conducive to team-building if we didn't have to suspect you were hiding anything from us."

"Well, there's really not much to tell," Irmaplotz said with a shrug. "I was born the heir to the throne of Hierogoth, and my mother started training me in the dark side of magic from day one. Pyromancy, zombie control, bad poetry – "

"I'm sorry?" Mozenrath broke in.

"You think bad poetry doesn't involve a little bit of Dark magic?" Irmaplotz challenged.

"That's not what I was calling into question," Mozenrath told her. "You…necromance."

"Actually, Mother was usually the one who did that," Irmaplotz corrected. "And it would take her a while to set up. She needed sigils, wards, implements, the works. Mozenrath necromances by intent, which I actually never thought was possible until I heard about it. And still had my doubts about until he brought everyone back from spirit form on this very world. I'm still trying to get through my Introduction to Necromancy textbook, which is the only terrible book I can't even bring myself to finish. And the quizzes for each segment involve material from the chapters that weren't even assigned! Don't EVEN get me started on the term paper Mother was expecting me to turn in on the subject. Can't I just purchase the quick summary notes off a shady black-market merchant and call it a day? It's basically the same thing!" She gritted her teeth so hard, Mozenrath could see a vein throbbing in her forehead. Sucking in a deep breath of air to cool herself down, Irmaplotz concluded, "I don't really necromance. I just know how to hypnotize the undead to get them to do what I want."

"Can you hypnotize living people?" Mozenrath asked, relieved that he still had the monopoly on necromancy. He was in no mood to share that spotlight.

"Do you think I would have let Roman keep singing if I could?"

"So she loves bad poetry," Roman sighed, shaking his head, "but she draws the line at badly sung music. Completely arbitrary, if you ask me."

"Anyway, to answer your questions," Irmaplotz went on, "I was pretty much shoved into villainy from day one. You'd think that would turn me into the kind of rebellious teenage princess who wanted to break away from her mother's expectations and be good, but, no, turns out evil is way too much fun."

"What about your dad?" Zevon asked.

"When I was younger," Irmaplotz answered. "I never really knew him all that well. That's why I wasn't too broken up when he died in that shipwreck. Mother wasn't broken up either. I learned about it because she came up to my room all 'Knock knock,' and I was like, 'Who's there?', and she was all, 'Your father,' and I was like, 'My father who?', and she comes out with 'Your father is dead!' with this huge smile on her face, and I have to inform her that that's not even a pun, and knock-knock jokes are only funny because they're puns."

"Because that was definitely the biggest reason that joke wasn't funny," Hans teased with a wink.

"Anyway, she almost seemed happy he was gone," Irmaplotz continued. "It was just business as usual around the castle, with her trying to teach me a new kind of evil magic, which, if I remember correctly, should have been how to create a storm at sea over an unsuspecting ship. Yes, the timing was right for that one." She blinked rapidly, her eyes opening wide as she walked. "I am just now realizing that my father's shipwreck was probably not an accident."

"You think?" Yzma countered, well-trained to spot a murder set up to look like an accident when she caught wind of one.

Irmaplotz shrugged. "It's really, REALLY not like I care. I just hope I end up with someone I don't want to dispose of like that at the end of the day."

"Like your nemesis," Roman reminded her.

"SHUT UP!

"Touchyyyy," Roman teased.

"Well, at least this proves you're one of us," Wuya pointed out. "You don't waste time grieving, you know how to kill with magic, and you can tell when a knock-knock joke isn't funny. You're WHAM ARMY, all right."

The sound of travel shifted gears as the feet of Roman, Irmaplotz, Mozenrath, Hans, Demyx, Yzma, Wuya, and Zevon left the dirt road and clicked onto a wide stone bridge. "At least you guys don't assign term papers," Irmaplotz said with a shrug. "That's good enough for me."

Wuya halted, putting up a hand as the group shuffled to a stop in the center of the bridge. "We're here," she announced.

"We're on the middle of a bridge," Roman pointed out.

"Thank you for pointing that out to me," Wuya said dryly without even throwing him a glance. "I didn't realize we were on the middle of a bridge until you said something. How careless of me."

"So where is this guardian spirit?" Mozenrath asked casually.

Wuya extended a finger to a spot down far below the bridge. Her seven companions cast their gazes to follow, seeing that the landscape below was dominated by a lake surrounded by cliffs; Wuya indicated a small cavern set into one of the rock faces. "There."

"That's not ominous at all!" Roman groaned.

"On one hand, scary cave? Not my idea of fun," Demyx commented. "On the other, it looks like we've finally come into MY element." He scurried to the bridge's edge, peering over to confirm that indeed, beneath the bridge was a vast expanse of water. "Oh, boy," he muttered, "this is gonna be fun."

As Demyx clambered up onto the bridge wall, Mozenrath sighed, "You're about to do something stupid, aren't you?"

Without answering verbally, Demyx launched himself over the side of the bridge, streamlining his body into a dive. Mozenrath still considered that an affirmative answer to his question.

The remaining seven hustled to the bridge wall, looking over to make sure Demyx hadn't just thrown himself to his death. They observed him plummeting into the water below, entering the surface of the lake with the mildest of splashes, then, after a pause, bobbing up to the surface to tread and yell something unintelligible up at his traveling companions.

"Good enough for me," Roman said with a nod.

"Now that I know that can be accomplicated without fathal resultations," Zevon added, "I think I want to give that way of descenting a try!"

"It kinda looks like fun," Irmaplotz agreed.

"No," Mozenrath said as Roman, Zevon, and Irmaplotz all hoisted themselves up onto the shallow wall. "NO. You are NOT – "

In complete synchrony, despite not having signaled when to go or planned it out beforehand, Irmaplotz, Roman, and Zevon leapt, twisting into diving positions. Hans, Wuya, Yzma, and Mozenrath watched them hit the lake's surface, then tread water below, beckoning the rest of the group to come down.

"I'm not doing that," Mozenrath insisted.

"Scared?" Wuya teased.

"He's not doing it because it's not dignified," Hans corrected.

"I'll speak for myself," Mozenrath growled.

Hans put up both palms in a defensive gesture; "Sorry, sorry. Overstepped."

Mozenrath gave him a cordial nod before telling Wuya, "I'm not doing it because it's not dignified."

"Well, good news for those of us who want to travel in style," Wuya said with a smirk as she stood with her back to the wall, facing Yzma, Mozenrath, and Hans; she snapped the fingers of her right hand once. An elevator of shiny chrome materialized behind her, its doors sliding open. "Going down."

The quartet piled in, and the doors shut; pleasant if flavorless music played softly as the elevator descended.

Yzma gave an audible sigh.

"You wanted to swan dive off the bridge, didn't you?" Wuya accused.

"What?" Yzma said. "Me? Do something so graceless? Never!"

Wuya clapped her hands, and the elevator doors open, revealing them to still be halfway between bridge and lake. "Go," Wuya said, giving Yzma's back a playful shove. "Live your dream."

Yzma didn't need any more convincing than that. She bolted out of the elevator, leaping out with a wild yell and turning three somersaults and five twists before slipping beneath the lake surface without a splash to be seen.

It was an admirable dive, Wuya thought. Quite stylish, and daring to boot. Perhaps she should have realized Yzma would want to show it off from higher up, when they were still on the bridge. Catching herself in reverie, she asked, "Anyone else?"

"No," Mozenrath and Hans said in unison, both sounding repulsed at the thought.

The elevator doors slid shut and did not reopen until the bottom of the craft touched the surface of the lake. At that point, Mozenrath looked over Yzma, Roman, Zevon, Irmaplotz, and Demyx, and sighed, "Your clothes are all soaked, you know. I hope you're happy."

"It's not like we're wearing ridiculous heavy capes that would drag us down," Irmaplotz said pointedly.

"THE CAPE IS A SIGN OF NOBILITY," Mozenrath growled.

"How many times do we have to drag you kicking and screaming into doing something that's actually fun?" Roman asked. "Don't make me splash you. I will splash you."

"I don't see how being soaked to the bone is anyone's idea of fun," Mozenrath replied.

Roman raised a threatening hand. Yzma caught it and held it back. "Don't," she said.

"Fine," Roman relented, "but I owe him one later."

"Catch me if you can," Mozenrath taunted. Then, to Wuya: "About getting to that cavern…"

Wuya snapped her fingers again, and a small boat, carved with an old-fashioned dragon's head at the prow but powered by a small outboard motor on the back, appeared in the lake. The swimmers piled in; Wuya, Mozenrath, and Hans slid in directly from the elevator. Wuya started up the motor while Irmaplotz wrung her hair out directly over Hans' lap.

"Thanks," Hans said sarcastically. "I really needed THAT today."

"That was an impressive dive," Wuya told Yzma as the boat purred its way toward the cavern.

"Thank you," Yzma said with a nod. "I've placed a few championships back on my homeworld. But it's really just a hobby."

"I wouldn't have minded seeing that from higher up."

"Find me a venue back at base and I'll show you what I can REALLY do," Yzma said coyly.

"I hope you're all prepared," Mozenrath reminded his companions. "Waiting for us in there is at least one of Maleficent's elite, coupled with a spiritual force composed entirely of Dark energy that will be trained to go out for our blood. Not that I don't think we can handle it, but whatever lackey they've stationed here can't catch us off guard."

"They won't," Hans spoke up immediately.

Roman tossed the Cudgel in his hand. "Already prepped to blast them into the Netherworld."

"I get the final blow, remember?" Wuya insisted. "You all focus on the spirit."

"This sounds dangerous," Demyx commented. "But don't worry. I'm sure you guys can handle it."

As he turned to try and leap off the side of the boat, Irmaplotz and Zevon seized the back of his clothing, forcing him to sit back down.

"There's no place for cowardiction here!" Zevon barked.

"What are YOU worried about?" Mozenrath asked in exasperation. "You're one of the most magically powerful people here, you fended off the Shadow Man, and we are literally surrounded by water, WHICH YOU CONTROL."

"Hey, yeah, you're right!" Demyx realized. "I feel a lot better now. Thanks for the pep talk, Moze!" He extended a thumbs-up.

Mozenrath stared at him in utter bewilderment. "That was supposed to be condescension. I was trying to be condescending. Am I losing my touch?"

"I got what you were going for," Hans offered.

The boat pulled up onto the shore of the cavern, and the eight entered the darkness, Wuya at the lead. A short tunnel opened out into a grander area within; a short strip of shoreline gave way to a pool that took up most of the cavern's inner space. It was immediately apparent that the appointed general was already waiting for them; back turned and figure obscured by a long plum-colored robe featuring a tight hood, she was far shorter and slimmer than anyone had expected. Her hand clutched a thin metal staff bearing an orange crystal at one end and a white gem at the other.

"I knew you'd be coming sooner or later," a raspy voice said. "I was actually happy to hear you approaching from across the lake. And believe me, you weren't hard to hear. If you were going for stealth, you failed."

The hood unfurled into strips, like a flower opening its petals, as the girl turned around to face her challengers. "And what's this?" Master Cyclonis taunted. "Mozenrath himself? This is a very welcome surprise."

"He's backup," Wuya snarled. "Your fight is with me."

"I would like to take this moment to remind everyone that I technically still am in charge," Mozenrath broke in.

"Oh well." Cyclonis gave a dramatic shrug. "Mozenrath, Wuya, it doesn't make a difference. Maleficent has a price put on all of your heads. No matter which one of you I bring back, she'll have a reward waiting for me. I could be looking at a promotion. Not to mention the mere satisfaction of eliminating one of our more persistent enemies."

"You want to kill us?" Wuya countered. "Go ahead and try."

"Oh," Cyclonis replied, "that would be what you'd want me to do, wouldn't it? Kill you off so Mozenrath could hope he could retrieve you back from the Underworld before Hades found a way to make it impossible. That's why I don't plan on taking any of you out of the equation unless it's Mozenrath himself. I'll just have to bring you back alive." Her smile grew wider and wickeder. "Of course, 'alive' doesn't necessarily mean in one piece."

"You're a child," Wuya spat. "What can you do to us?"
"I wouldn't talk, considering your history with the Xiaolin monks," Cyclonis reminded her. "They couldn't be much older than me, now, could they? In fact, the only ones of you who haven't been humiliated by someone younger than eighteen are the ones who've been mocked for their own age."

"How do YOU know – " Mozenrath began.

"We've done our homework," Cyclonis told him. "We know all about where you make your base and what your lives were before you met each other. In fact, the only reason we haven't wiped you out entirely is because we wouldn't want to waste our resources on that when you're not making trouble."

"S-soooooo…if we just turn around and walk outta here, you'd leave us alone?" Demyx questioned, slipping both hands behind his back.

"No," Cyclonis said slyly. "Because the minute you touched the surface of that lake, you officially made trouble. I know you want something from me and Lanayru. The question is, of course, what. But I don't need to know that answer so long as I never let you have it."
Demyx's hands clenched behind his back; a silvery form bubbled in his grip.

Cyclonis slammed the lower end of her staff against the ground.

Erupting upward from the pool in a great geyser came an immense creature, once composed of pure light but now made up of dark shadow. A serpentine head topped off a long body that coiled round and round; the jaws of the beast held an orb of Darkness that pulsated and rotated.

Cyclonis looked Demyx directly in the eye as his sitar finished manifesting. "I saw that," she said with a smirk.

Mozenrath whirled to face Demyx, snarling, "What did you DO – "

At the same time, Cyclonis pointed her staff forward, growling, "GET HIM!"

Simultaneously, Demyx swung his sitar around front, positioning his fingers above the strings and calling out, "DANCE, WA – "

Before Demyx could finish, the Dark spirit Lanayru surged directly toward him and wrapped a coil of herself around him.

"And while you're at it," Cyclonis ordered, "take care of a few of the others for me, will you?"

Lanayru made three more passes over the group. Roman didn't even have time to raise the Cudgel before he was wrapped up; Zevon was constricted in the midst of reaching for his potion belt. Finally, Yzma was bound, unable to take up a weapon. The thick snake's body kept all four pinned and struggling.

"Take them outside," Cyclonis commanded, "and play with them for a bit before you carry them back to base."

With a feral hiss, Lanayru sped out the door of the cavern, emerging over the lake and soaring high into the sky.

Wuya's head whipped back and forth between looking at Cyclonis and looking at Lanayru's path.

"Are you really going to let your friends go so easily?" Cyclonis asked her.

Wuya doubted any of the others had it in them to take on Lanayru, and if she did nothing, the serpent would deliver Demyx, Roman, Zevon, and Yzma into Maleficent's clutches – the last of which seemed particularly unforgivable. Gritting her teeth, she bolted down the passage and out of the cavern.

"You did that on purpose to draw out whichever one of us was most powerful and get them away from you," Mozenrath accused.

"You're smart," Cyclonis said through her smirk. "Tell me. Do you know anything about Shadow Insects?"

"No," Mozenrath replied, "but I have a feeling you're about to give us a hard lesson."

As Cyclonis spread out both arms, a host of large insects, each the size of a dog and made up of shadows, burst from the pool behind her. The swarm crashed like a tidal wave toward Mozenrath, Hans, and Irmaplotz.

Hans twisted to press his back against Mozenrath's, drawing the dao Wuya had created for him earlier from his belt. Mozenrath had also kept his dao close, and brought it into hand. Back to back, the pair of swordsmen, amateur to the title as Mozenrath was, thrust and chopped at the insects, thinning their numbers.

Irmaplotz surrounded herself in an aura of venomous green, then let it explode outward, carrying the insects that had attacked her with it. A surging mass of green in each hand, she stared Cyclonis down directly, teeth bared.

"Oh, we have a fighter," Cyclonis remarked, spinning her staff in one hand and using the other to cast off her robe, revealing an ensemble of tighter clothing more suitable for battle beneath. "I just hope you know what you're dealing with." She let the staff come to rest in both hands, tilting the back of her right hand upward just enough that Irmaplotz could see the faint marking of the Triforce glowing against it.

Irmaplotz let both surges of magic fly. Cyclonis parried each one, sending it ricocheting into the walls in a way that shook the entire cavern. She then turned the orange crystal upon Irmaplotz and shot forth a beam of pure heat, intending to burn through the princess completely. Irmaplotz surrounded her hands with a shielding magic and caught the heat energy between her palms, shoving it back.

"Oh, you're good," Cyclonis remarked.

Outside the cavern, Lanayru circled the lake several times; Wuya sped after her at top speed, catching up little by little. When Lanayru finally realized she was being gained upon, she taunted Wuya a little by tightening her grip.

A series of cracks rang out over the lake, accompanied by screams.

Zevon thought, at first, that one of the cracks was that of a bone in his body splitting. However, as it turned out, it was one of the flasks strapped to his belt that had taken the damage, drenching him. Absorbing the effect of the potion, he became completely intangible, phasing right through Lanayru's body and out of her grip.

As Wuya soared to him, Zevon met her pace with the flight power he had gained upon the absorption of the potion. "What just happened?" Wuya asked.

"Intangiporeality potion," Zevon explained. "Nothing can touch me or anything on my person until it wears off in ten minutes. Not even the ground. Not even gravity!"

"Then stay out of the way," Wuya barked, speeding on ahead.

She drew two more daos, coursing with magic in their metal, out of thin air, focusing on the last coil of Lanayru, where Yzma was bound. Landing on the back of the coil, Wuya plunged both blades into the spirit's body, dragging them to create a grievous wound. Lanayru's grip loosened, and Yzma slipped out, falling toward the water. Though Wuya knew full well Yzma would not be hurt further by hitting the lake's surface, still she cast her swords aside and swooped to catch Yzma, one arm hooking under Yzma's knees and the other cradling her back.

"Tell me you're okay," Wuya ordered, not quite able to mask the concern in her tone.

"I'm fine!" Yzma insisted. "The other two, I'm not sure about. But what happened to Zevon?"

"Right here!" Zevon fell in flight next to Wuya and his mother. "And invincistructible for about eight and a half more minutes!"

Wuya gently set Yzma down on a patch of shoreline near the lake. "STAY SAFE," she ordered before surging back upward once again.

"Did she just…?" Yzma wondered out loud, staring after Wuya in awe.

"Become your hero in the nick of time?" Zevon filled in. "If someone that beautiful caught me like that, I'd defiantly ask them for a date."

"Not happening."

"We'll see."

Wuya launched herself after Lanayru once more, knowing the serpent wouldn't kill either of her remaining two captives. She thought back to when Lanayru was a spirit of Light. The serpent had taken no orders from anyone then. Ganondorf's change of reality really had done a number on the guardian spirits if they were acting like the lapdogs of Maleficent's forces. Either that, or the new Dark spirits' goals just aligned with Maleficent's so well that they saw no harm in playing along.

Lanayru turned in midair, spitting out the sphere of Darkness she held in her mouth. Wuya barely had time to dodge as the magic hurtled toward her, but immediately following it was another, and then another. Lanayru now held still, launching Darkness at Wuya in full force to keep her going in figure eights.

Wuya, knowing she had to break the pattern if she wanted any chance at victory, slid in between spheres; just before the next one would have collided with her, she put out both hands, shooting a massive wave of magic to counter. The sphere was halted, then pushed slowly back. Lanayru let more Darkness roll forward on her breath, turning the sphere into a beam. Wuya pushed back against it with all of her magical might, a bead of sweat rolling from her forehead all the way down to her chin. She'd just locked herself into a move from which she could not retreat without risking grievous harm, and now was not the time to regret that.

A muffled "boom" shook Lanayru; the serpent's focus was broken, and that gave Wuya just enough of an edge to shove her magic against Lanayru's and overwhelm the serpent once and for all. As the searing green energy washed over the serpent, Roman and Demyx went plummeting to the lake below, the latter giving a high-pitched shriek all the way down.

Wuya met them halfway, forming a green bubble around each that kept him levitated. She guided these spheres toward the place she'd left Yzma.

"Notice that she could have just done that to save you," Zevon muttered to Yzma, "but she CAUGHT you."

"I – you – " Yzma, obviously flustered, babbled. "That means nothing!" Color flushed her cheeks.

Wuya noticed none of this as she deposited Demyx and Roman, both in sitting positions, down near Yzma. "DON'T tell me anything bad happened to either of you," she groaned.

"My arm!" Demyx whimpered. "I can't use my sitar! That snake broke my arm!" He bit his lip to try and keep tears from spilling out over his face; it utterly failed.

"Crybaby," Roman grunted. "That snake fucked up my leg too, but you don't see me bawling about it!" He hoisted himself to his feet. "In fact, I'm going to OW OW OW OKAY OW." He flopped back over onto the ground, face crimson. "Yeah. That's broken."

Wuya took a glance at Roman's pant leg, spattered with blood. The explosion that had diverted Lanayru long enough for Wuya to overwhelm her had come from the Cudgel; it was a miracle Roman hadn't blown his leg clean off that way. There were definitely lacerations and burns beneath that fabric to accompany the breakage. "Yzma, take care of them," Wuya demanded. "I have some unfinished business to take care of."

"And just WHAT are you going to do?" Yzma barked. "For that matter, what do you expect ME to do?"

Wuya was already soaring over the lake. She felt a presence at her back: Lanayru, giving chase again. "HAVEN'T YOU HAD ENOUGH?" Wuya screamed, rotating to fire another surge backward.

The already weakened Lanayru was caught in the blaze; Wuya was certain the serpent was done for. Instead, Lanayru outpaced her, making a beeline for the cavern. Wuya followed, teeth gritted hard, now thoroughly annoyed with Lanayru and ready to give the snake the fight of her life once she caught up. What she didn't notice was that Lanayru's goal was now completely to escape her attacker.

Inside the cavern, Mozenrath and Hans had stepped away from each other to battle more bugs on their own. "You're really getting the hang of this!" Hans complimented as Mozenrath sliced an insect in half.

"What can I say?" Mozenrath replied. "I'm a natural born – "

He tripped. As he regained his balance, his sword thrust forward, impaling three bugs completely by accident.

" – A natural born learner," Mozenrath finished, using a foot to slide the insects off his blade.

Irmaplotz and Cyclonis still traded blows, neither gaining an upper hand on the other. Cyclonis stepped back, her foot landing on the surface of the pool as though it were solid ground. Further and further back she went until she launched herself up into the air, levitating there as the white crystal on her staff fueled a spherical deflection shield that repelled all of Irmaplotz's blows. Using one hand, she dislodged the orange crystal, figuring she'd have better luck with a different tactic.

"Wait – hang on." Irmaplotz let up on her constant barrage, flicking her wrist to retrieve an object from magical storage space. She placed a pair of spectacles upon her face in order to get a clearer look at what Cyclonis was doing. Now she could clearly make out that Cyclonis was swapping the fire-based crystal for a blue one. Irmaplotz had little experience with Atmosian crystals, but she was aware of basic color coding.

The moment the deflection shield dropped, Irmaplotz leapt to the side to avoid a blast of ice that would have frozen her solid, instead leaving several jagged peaks of solid water jutting up from the ground. She then immediately leapt out of the path of a second blast. Now Cyclonis had her on the defensive, which couldn't remain the case. She had to play a big card.

She realized there was such a card she could play: a large-scale spell that only required the use of a body of water, and here she was near a pool. But she would need time and focus, which was impossible when you were dodging a constant stream of ice that threatened to solidify your body and inhibit your ability to cast spells. What she needed was for Cyclonis to switch targets, and that meant throwing one of her teammates under the chariot.

"Why are you still aiming for ME?" Irmaplotz yelled.

"Because YOU'RE ATTACKING ME!" Cyclonis responded.

Irmaplotz leapt out of the way of yet another ice blast and pointed back to Mozenrath. "But HE'S the one who you can stop resurrecting any of us if you get rid of him!"

"IRMAPLOTZ!" Mozenrath yelled in what came out as more shock than rage.

"You're baiting me," Cyclonis said as she took a break from firing ice. "However, the fact stands that you are correct. I just need to clip your wings first."

When the next ice blast hit, Irmaplotz made sure to dodge it as closely as she could. She then cast a spell over her own body, freezing herself with a thin layer of ice atop her skin. It looked as though Cyclonis had won.

"Now," Cyclonis said, "to cut off the serpent's head."

She fired at Mozenrath.

Mozenrath had nowhere near the reflexes Irmaplotz did, and when he saw what was coming for him, he froze figuratively, mere moments away from doing so literally.

Hans grabbed the back of Mozenrath's cape and jerked him away from the impact point; icy crystals jutted up from the ground as Mozenrath stumbled to safety.

"Overstepping?" Hans asked as he slashed through two more insects – the swarm had become precious few.

"I'll allow it," Mozenrath said breathlessly.

Irmaplotz melted the layer of ice that covered her skin; Cyclonis didn't notice, as her focus was on Mozenrath. Closing her eyes, Irmaplotz focused on the pool, willing the water to evaporate and turn into clouds, willing those clouds to charge up with electricity and crackle with the cold. Cyclonis noticed the gray clouds once they were fully formed over her head; she paused her assault on Mozenrath to observe them. Thunder boomed.

"A storm," Cyclonis muttered. "You're trying to hurt me with a storm. And you don't even know just how futile that is."

Irmaplotz set her storm-at-sea spell, now a storm-at-pool spell, into full motion; lightning crackled toward Cyclonis as icy hail pellets rained down. Cyclonis soared around every single lightning bolt, whacking the hail out of the way with her staff. Irmaplotz was beginning to think she hadn't made the best choice.

That was when Lanayru came bolting into the cavern at full speed, fleeing for her life. She knocked Mozenrath, Hans, and Irmaplotz over, crushing the last few Shadow Insects against the wall. As she charged for the pool, Cyclonis knew she had to get out of the way to avoid a collision.

As Cyclonis attempted to skirt Lanayru, she was struck by lightning twice and hammered by a swath of hailstones. Lanayru disappeared below the surface of the pool; Cyclonis skidded onto the shore.

"It's…not…over yet," Cyclonis grunted, planting her staff into the ground and using it to haul herself up.

A final bolt of lightning connected directly with her back, behind her beating heart. A shuddering gasp and Cyclonis lay still on the ground.

By now, Wuya had rushed into the cavern, expecting a more violent scene. With a simple wrist flick, Irmaplotz dismissed the clouds and their precipitation, allowing Wuya to approach and stand over the shocked Cyclonis.

She was still alive, Wuya noticed, even though her breathing was far more ragged. Cyclonis didn't protest as Wuya reached down, clasped the girl's right hand, and jerked her arm upward.

"I'll take that Triforce of Power now," Wuya remarked casually, beginning the transfer spell that flowed the Triforce from Cyclonis' aura to Wuya's. She was well aware that Triforce was the only reason the girl had even survived taking as much electricity as she had.

The marking disappeared from the back of Cyclonis' hand. When Wuya let go of it, she observed the back of her own right hand, where the Triforce faintly glowed. "And now that I have what I want," she stated, "you're better off to me dead. Of course, there's a chance that Maleficent might bring you back, but after learning how you failed here, will she really want to?"

Cyclonis quickly fumbled for her pocket, bringing forth another crystal.

Wuya called a host of weapons into the air: swords, daggers, axes, pikes, all aimed at Cyclonis' fallen body.

Cyclonis gripped the warp crystal tightly.

Just as the weapons made their plunge, Cyclonis disappeared, having used the warp crystal to get to safety. Instead, the metal blades bit the ground.

"DRAT!" Wuya hissed. She sucked in a deep breath through her teeth, then let it out with a sigh. "Well, at least we're a fourth of the way there." She turned to show off her new Triforce marking to Mozenrath, Hans, and Irmaplotz.

"And the others?" Mozenrath asked. "Tell me she didn't get away with the others."

"They're fine," Wuya answered. "Or they should be, at least."

It turned out they were fine, aside from Demyx's arm and Roman's leg. Wuya brought Mozenrath, Hans, and Irmaplotz to them; Zevon had regained tangibility and was sitting cross-legged on the ground. Yzma had been standing, watching the cavern entrance with careful eyes the whole while.

"You're back!" Yzma proclaimed when Wuya and company arrived. "Did you get what we came for?"

Wuya simply, wordlessly displayed the marking on the back of her hand.

"PERFECT!" Yzma crowed.

"Where's the giant snake?" Demyx asked worriedly. "Is it going to come back to try and finish us off?"

"Lanayru isn't our problem anymore," Wuya explained. "I scared her off, and she's not coming out for a while. We can just leave her be and move on to the next general."

"Move on!" Roman repeated. "Great idea! If only all of us could actually walk."

"And without my arm, I'm not going to be any help in a fight," Demyx added. "Not that I'm any help in a fight on a good day. You guys might as well just leave me out of the dangerous parts."

"Statistically speaking, you're too valuable to leave behind," Mozenrath reminded him. "That is, mind you, only STATISTICALLY speaking."

"I think you pick on me because you secretly like me."

"Well, that couldn't be more wrong," Mozenrath huffed.

"We can't just…not do anything about that arm," Yzma insisted.

"I know, I know," Mozenrath sighed. "We'll fix him."

"And me," Roman added. "You'll fix me."

"And you," Mozenrath agreed. "I just…need to figure out how to do that."

"You can't HEAL US?" Demyx cried.

"I'm not a HEALER!" Mozenrath growled. "Healing is a Light discipline! Does my magic look like Light to you AT ALL?"

"But you bring people back from the dead!" Demyx pointed out. "That's healing! You're healing them from literally death!"

"That's different," Mozenrath told him. "That's not fixing what's broken. That's recreating from a blank canvas. It's – " He stopped, coming into a realization. "It's…actually not a bad idea."

"WHAT'S not a bad idea?" Demyx asked worriedly.

"You actually brought up a solid point," Mozenrath told him. "I actually have to give you some credit."

"Thanks…?"

"And now," Mozenrath continued, "I have to let you both die."

"WHAT?" Demyx and Roman yelled.

In a flash, they were reduced to floating blue spirits once more. Then, after a few moments required to warm up, Mozenrath brought them both back into physical form again, this time with no broken bones whatsoever.

"You're welcome," Mozenrath said. He then turned to Wuya and Irmaplotz, indicating them both with a finger; "Neither of you better get hurt. Recreating you would be a lot more complicated."

"Right on, Righty," Roman stated.

"So what's our next objectivication?" Zevon asked.

"After Lanayru?" Wuya clarified. "We make way to Eldin."