Fallen Stars

by Cori Shadowfang

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

25. How To Save a Life

'The fight to bring Mimir home.'

Content Warning: The fight with Mimir is, essentially, one very long attempt to talk them down from what's essentially suicide. This basically encompasses any section that isn't focused on Brain's and Sigurd's fight with Darkness; like with previous chapters, I'll put a summary of the fight down at the bottom.

---

Chapter Twenty-Five: How To Save a Life

Metal clashed in the distance. The sharp tang of metal and ozone stung Skuld's nose. Starlight shook in her grip, like she'd been fighting for hours and not seconds. She could feel the phantom of something wet and sticky against her hands, her cheek.

A familiar face stared back at her. It had been relieved, back then, exhausted and pained but happy—less because they thought they'd been saved, she realized later, and more because they thought that at least they'd get to see their friends once more, before they died. Now that same face was twisted into some confused, pinched in stressed pain, hands shaking from how hard they were gripping their Keyblade.

Staring at them felt like when she'd rushed back to the Keyblade War—like she was going to willing run off the edge of a cliff, with no way to stop her fall.

They shifted, foot moving just a little closer, Keyblade twisting and forcing hers just a little off-center, and Skuld stumbled backward. She moved on reflex, one foot slipping back to give her a better stance, her Keyblade twisting underneath its twin, slipping around the edge and making to stab at their chest.

(That was her friend that was her friend that was her friend—)

Her Keyblade shifted, flying harmlessly over their shoulder. Her free hand hit their chest, curling into their shirt, still a half-melted, patchwork mess. She tugged them closer, swinging them around, fingers clenched so tight that she thought she'd start bleeding.

(Her footing felt off-kilter. She thought she could feel metal underneath her feet, almost, the quiet hum of a computer in the background.)

She had a million questions—a million more accusations—but when she stared at the face of someone long dead, she lost all of them. Her hand was—shaking, she realized after a moment. Her eyes stung, and she blinked as the image blurred, her throat closing.

"Skuld!"

Ephemer…?

Pain shot through her side; the world turned, abruptly shifting sideways. Her shoulder cracked against the ground, but she rolled back to her feet. Instinct had her pedaling backwards, Keyblade lifted to parry one strike, then another, then another, metal clanging near her face in bright flashes. In them, she thought she could see the echoes of a lifeboat chamber.

With a shout she moved, pushing them back more with force than skill; one powerful swipe sent them stumbling, and she swung her Keyblade around, ready to send a Fire spell in their direction—

(that's them that's them that's themthat'sthem—)

The spell guttered and died.

"You poor thing." The shadows crept across the ground, and her friend stepped back, closer to them, something terrified on their face. She started after them, hand lifted, then stalled, feet stumbling to an unceremonious halt. "You've seen this before, haven't you? It must be hard, to relive the memory."

"Give them back." The words felt like they had an echo, ringing against metal walls. "Give them back!"

"We told you, didn't we? They have to choose to come—and they've made their choice clear."

"You didn't give them a choice," Skuld snarled. "Just like—"

—last time.

"Skuld," asked a too-familiar voice while she reeled, "what's going on?"

When she turned, it felt like it had when she'd first met Kvasir—she could see the differences, the different hair and build, but she could also see the similarities, the eyes and the similarities in facial structure. Surrounded by ghosts, it was hard not to stare at him and wonder, What are you talking about? You were there, too.

"Skuld?"

Her hand curled into her hair, scrunching it, and she stumbled backward a little. Everything felt…unsteady. Her mind felt fuzzy, her head spinning; it was a little like she was floating, a vague, uneasy confusion making it hard to remember exactly where she was and what she was supposed to be doing.

Eph—Kvasir started towards her, face twisted in worry.

Something moved behind him. Skuld didn't entirely register moving; she was just suddenly in front of him, a spell burning at the tip of her Keyblade. The whole world went white for a moment, and Skuld's ears rang; she stumbled backward under the force of the attack, nearly tripping over herself. She thought she could hear someone shouting behind her.

She didn't let it stop her for long. She rocked forward, shooting through the debris, Keyblade ready to swing. Someone was shouting her name behind her—or maybe that was a memory, too, something lost in the ringing in her ears.

(There was—there was something she was supposed to be doing. She needed to focus. A part of her tried to grab it, clinging to the thought, but when she looked at her friend, it slipped away, scrambling from her grasping fingertips.)

A flash of metal, too close to her face. She whipped around, Starlight crashing against Starlight. The weapon cut through dust and smoke, sending it scattering around them. She thought she caught a flash, briefly, of—of her friend. Of—

It's supposed to be Mimir.

She hesitated too long, because something cut into her side, and her breath hissed and she started moving again, head still spinning.

(Her friend was alive. Her friend was alive—)

Another flash of metal. She spun, Keyblade catching against her opponent's, and she kicked after them almost on instinct.

(She thought that it was just her and Brain and now someone else was here but—)

Starlight slammed into her opponent's Keyblade, a quick one-two strike. Her weapon whipped around, sweeping towards their side, and they pulled away.

(But what was the cost of that? What did that mean for Mimir?)

"Mimir?" she asked, and she'd meant to sound certain, but it came out brittle and quiet, like she couldn't quite get the words to work.

She thought she heard them stumble; she almost caught a flash of their face through the fading smoke, twisted into something painfully lost.

(She wanted to run. She wanted to run and hide and take the time to pick things apart, because right now, it felt like too much. But—)

They moved this time, coming at her with a furious shout, and Skuld caught their weapon on the edge of hers, arms shaking as she tried to force them back.

"You—" She broke off, breath hitching, because Mimir still looked like them, and it felt like shadows were crowding the edges of her vision as she stared and stared and stared. "You're…Mimir. But you—"

Her opponent flinched. There was something broken in their expression, a low whine of pain coming from the back of their throat.

"What…happened? How are you…?" She was shaking, now, and she pressed against their Keyblade a little harder, watching as they yielded under the pressure. "What am I…supposed to do? What does this mean?"

They stared back at her, putting just enough pressure on the blade to keep them locked. They shifted a little, expression shifting with the movement, and it tugged on her memories of Daybreak Town—of working and training with a friend, of days before she'd become a Union Leader and things had become complicated.

("Come on, one more round! I have a bet with Chirithy—don't look at me like that!")

She stared at them over their interlocked Keyblades, and felt a sudden, inexplicable surge of anger. "This isn't fair," she breathed, embers on her tongue. "This isn't fair. You—"

(I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, we couldn't save you—)

"I mourned you. You—you can't just come back now, after I'd already—"

(You tried to kill me.)

"Where's Mimir? What did you do with them?"

(I watched you die and I watched Ephemer kill you and I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that—)

"Were you there this whole time? If you were, why…?"

(I went back to save you once and it meant nothing and now I'm trying to save you again and—)

Mimir—her friend—the other wielder sent her stumbling backward with a wide swing. Something was pinched in their expression, features contorted like they were in pain, and it made that anger burn.

"Don't look at me like that. You don't get to look at me like that, not after—"

("They are very clever—they tricked even you into believing that they'd betrayed you.")

"What did they…mean. Before."

The other wielder didn't look like they knew what she was talking about; she wasn't even sure they'd heard her, eyes almost glossy.

(What am I supposed to do?)

"Well?" Darkness (Darkness, coming to steal her friend, again again again—) slithered around the other wielder's legs, crawling up their back and over their shoulders. "What will you do? You wanted them gone, didn't you?"

The other wielder stared at her, eyes blown wide, and the only thing Skuld could think of was the fact that this wasn't how they'd looked before, when they'd attacked them in the lifeboat chamber—and that didn't feel fair, because this was supposed to be Mimir, and—and what had happened how could they be…?

(There was a part of her, quiet, that wondered, Does that mean they attacked us on purpose?)

They lunged, movements jerky, like they were being tugged along on puppet strings, and Skuld snapped into action, Keyblade lifting to defend herself. She fell into a rhythm without really thinking about it—parry, retreat, strike—but her eyes focused on her opponent's face, searching for—she didn't know.

"Skuld! Mimir! Stop!"

"What are you…doing?" Her voice cracked. "Mimir?"

They flinched, weapon sliding just slightly off course.

Skuld hesitated a moment, and then she tried something different—their name, stale on her tongue, and she watched them freeze.

She stood still, Keyblade still resting against theirs, and tried to ignore how much she felt like the ground was breaking under her feet.

The other wielder looked at her, slowly. Something like joy broke across their face—and then it faltered, slowly morphing into confusion, then horror, then pain. They looked almost like they were half a second away from crying, and they shook their head rapidly, quivering as they stumbled away. "You—" They blinked, hand placed against their head, and Skuld found herself standing very, very still, like if she moved too quickly, she might frighten them.

"Go away." The other wielder was staring at her, looking as lost and confused as she felt. "Go away. You…hurt."

It stung, making her flinch like she'd been stabbed. The world darkened a little; a low, howling wind stirred across the streets, slowly growing in strength.

(I…know this.)

The other wielder lifted their head, and that confused look slowly shifted into something almost angry. "Leave!"

The ground cracked at their words, and Skuld stumbled underneath it. In the distance, she thought she could see the faintest tinge of red and a crumbling building.

(This is—)

"You heard them," Darkness said, and Skuld wanted to scream that they had no right to take them, not again, not—

But that should be—

The other wielder screamed when she didn't react—and then they were moving towards her, practically flying across the ground, and Skuld had to drag her Keyblade up, parrying the attack.

A shout of alarm. "Wait! Mimir, stop fighting!" Movement, then, and a Keyblade crossed across theirs. Skuld snapped towards the figure, but a low, rumbling sound drew her attention.

The ground was breaking. The buildings were crumbling. For a terrible, terrible moment, she was back in the Clock Tower.

(Daybreak Town is falling again.)

The shadows crowded close. Her vision was filled with a familiar figure—a stranger wearing a friend's face. They still had some of Mimir's habits, she realized, hand twitching when they opened their mouth to say something, like they wanted to sign. Skuld reacted before she had time to think about it, Keyblade swinging, and found herself parried, stumbling aside.

(My friend is lost to Darkness.)

The other wielder turned at a movement—Eph—Kvasir hurrying towards them. Their blades flashed as they exchanged strikes; Skuld came in from the back, swinging towards their side, and when she blinked, she was back in the lifeboat chamber, Ephemer fighting across from her.

(There's nothing I can do but fight them.)

A parry. A spin. Something clamped itself around her chest, magic burning in her throat. The ground cracked underneath her, part of it rising, and she stumbled as she tried to catch herself. She just barely got her Keyblade up in time to block a blow, and Eph—Kvas—Ephemer fired a burst of light, forcing the other wielder (Darkness?)to flinch away.

(What happens when I get too tired? What happens if I beat them?)

Skuld surged forward with a scream, Keyblade crashing against her opponent's with a loud clang! clang! clang! Again, and again, and again, forcing them back slowly, slowly, until the ground rumbled underneath her and she stumbled under it.

(Why did I ever think I could save them?)

Arms caught her, steady, but she pulled against them, Keyblade swinging around.

"Skuld—Skuld, we need to—"

"This can't happen again."

She turned, and there was Ephemer (it's not it's not it's not), staring at her with a grieved expression. He opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something, and then the earth was shifting, again, and it was like the words had failed him entirely. An arm wrapped around her waist, and suddenly they were moving, heading away from—from them.

(She could still see their face—something that looked like theirs, even if she thought she could see Mimir behind their eyes. She thought she was screaming, but it was hard to tell, beyond the whipping wind and the rumbling underneath her feet.)

The shaking settled slowly. Ephemer stumbled to a halt between two broken buildings, casting a frantic glance behind him, arms steady on her shoulders like she'd bolt. It didn't really matter; her legs wobbled, unsteady, and she sunk to her knees, and Ephemer fell with her, expression creasing with an emotion she couldn't place.

(She wanted to run. She was nearly ready to tear herself free, but…she wasn't sure where she'd run to.)

"Okay," Ephemer said, quiet, voice not quite steady. "Okay, we're—we're safe—"

"We're not. They're—something's happened—we need to fight—"

"I—we will. We will, but you need to focus on me, okay? Focus on me."

She did, head snapping towards him—whether because she was actually looking for reassurance or because she wanted to snap at him, even she wasn't sure—and found herself staring at another ghost. "Can you breathe with me?" Ephemer asked, and she couldn't, something caught in her chest. "That's—okay. That's okay. We can try again."

(He shot a look behind him, briefly, like he wasn't quite as calm as he was trying to make himself seem. It tugged at something almost guilty, but it was hard to focus on around the tangle of emotions crushing her ribs.)

Her breath rattled, and with it came an exhale of, "We need to move—"

"We will. We will, but—do you remember where we are?"

Another breath—in, out. In—Daybreak Town. In—

No. That wasn't right—though it certainly looked like Daybreak Town as she'd last seen it, everything slowly crumbling underneath her feet. But things were just a little off, hazy in a half-remembered way. And—and that was Kvasir, not Ephemer, staring at her with a smile that looked like it was barely hiding panic.

(He glanced at her shaking hand. His was shaking, too, making his keychain rattle, but he took a steadying breath, his free hand clasping around his wrist to try and steady it.)

"We're in one of Darkness's visions," Kvasir said, voice gentle in a way she almost hated. "We're here to get Mimir back."

In. Out. Mimir. That's—that's right. She needed to—focus.

The ground was starting to feel a little more solid under her hands. Her fingers curled against it, nails scratching against the cobblestones.

"But," Kvasir continued, and there was something on the edge of relief in his voice, "they don't look like them."

In. Out. The world felt a little less unsteady, and it left behind a heavy feeling in her chest—something that sat thick against her ribs and made her taste bile.

"And…you know who they look like?"

"It's them," she said, almost over Kvasir's words.

Kvasir blinked, looking momentarily thrown. "Um. Okay. Them…?"

"Them." The irritation didn't feel fair, but she didn't know if she had the energy to correct it. She still tried, sucking in a steadying breath—in, out—and continuing, brittle, "My…friend. Mine and Ephemer's. From Daybreak Town."

Kvasir's eyebrows furrowed, confused for a moment—and then they shot up as the realization settled in. "Oh. Oh. The one who…?"

"Ephemer killed them." She blinked, staring at the space just beyond the broken building. "Even if he hadn't, they shouldn't—I don't know what's happening."

"It's—perhaps Darkness—"

"They know things they shouldn't. Things that weren't in the stories. And if their magic backfired—" Skuld's breath shuddered in her chest, and she ran a hand through her hair. Her heartbeat was steadying slowly, and it just left her feeling tired—like all she wanted to do was go back home and sleep.

(There is no home anymore.)

"Okay." Kvasir blinked, looking like he didn't know how to process that. "Okay." He glanced out—back towards the little pathway, the brief patch of light in the chaos. "But—they're still Mimir."

Skuld laughed, and it sounded broken. "I don't know."

Kvasir's lips pursed. His eyebrows creased, like he was thinking about something—and then he pushed himself to his feet, heading towards the entrance.

"Kvasir—Kvasir, what are you doing?"

"We came here to get Mimir back. So I'm going to talk to them."

Something in Skuld's chest seized. "Kvasir—"

He glanced back, smiling, but it looked shaky. "It's okay. If that's really them and not just Darkness—there has to be something left of them in there, right?" He didn't look entirely sure of that himself, but he shot off before Skuld could even think to answer him.

"Kvasir!"

---

-Crash! Brain flinched away from the scattered debris, squinting against the dust. A building creaked, and he hissed underneath his breath, dragging Sigurd away from the toppling structure.

Worn and discolored shingles hit the ground and shattered. It hurt more than he expected, when he stopped to think about what they once were—so he didn't, turning away and trying to focus on the opponent in front of them.

Master's Defender was a warm weight in his palm; one thumb ran along the handle, and he thought he could hear something whispering to him—the quiet presence of countless wielders before him (after him?), offering him their steady support. He sucked in a breath, shoving down the feeling.

"I can see you, Little Light."

The shadows moved like a tidal wave, rising from the ground and surging towards them. Brain shoved Sigurd behind him almost on instinct, sweeping Master's Defender in front of him. Magic pulsed like a sun in his chest; light streaked from the edges of his Keyblade, carving a path through the darkness.

(For a moment, it felt like he could see echoes of a different place—a place that seemed mostly made of shadows and rock, his hands bigger and covered in scars, other wielders pressed around him, their voices muted.)

Something rang loud behind him—Sigurd, he realized, weapon sweeping through their own shadows, which had grown bigger with Brain's attack. Sigurd's strike did next to nothing, the shadows warping a little, then coalescing back together to try and crash over them.

Brain switched their positions, dragging Sigurd behind him and ignoring the other wielder's yelp of surprise. Master's Defender lifted, light exploding from the tip and forcing the shadows backward. He didn't pause to see what happened this time, dragging Sigurd along as he raced through the ruins of Daybreak Town.

"Master Brain," Sigurd said, fearful and exasperated, "I could really use more of an explanation."

"Don't exactly have a lot of time for one." Movement to his side. Brain kicked towards it; it felt like there was a hand pressing against his as he fired off a spell, a quiet, satisfied murmur of, "That'll show them," in his ear as Darkness pulled away.

"You somehow managed to break through Darkness's vision."

Fire exploded behind him—a bright wall, crackling as it moved, puddles of water evaporating in its wake. Wisps of shadows stretched from the buildings, grasping at them, and Brain threw up a barrier to protect them.

"You got us both out—but your friends are still trapped."

Brain blinked, and for a moment he saw the barrier expanding outward, the hazy city streets covered in smoke. It took him half a second to come back to himself, and a half-moment longer to realize that even if the scenery was different, his barrier was moving, forcing the shadows back, despite the way they snapped angrily.

"You're wielding Master's Defender."

Out of his peripheral, he thought he could see Sigurd gesturing at his newly-reclaimed weapon in exasperation, and Brain gritted his teeth, trying to stuff down the guilt-relief-confusion that threatened to throw off his concentration. (I don't deserve it but it's back it's back it's home—) "How about you focus some of that frustration on Darkness, yeah?"

"I'd love to—if I could hit it." As if to make a point, he slipped out of Brain's barrier, ignoring his shouts of protest, and sent a spell flying towards the shadows. Predictably, they parted, then reformed, flowing towards them.

Brain grabbed Sigurd and dragged him away, sprinting back through the streets. "You can't," Brain shouted back at him. "Darkness is incorporeal; nothing we can throw at it can do anything."

"Then what are we supposed to do about it?"

("How are we supposed to fight an enemy we can't touch?"

The words came murky, like Brain was hearing them from under water. He could feel himself tapping Master's Defender against the ground—except it wasn't him, he realized after a moment, the voice all wrong: "Then we make it tangible."

"A sacrifice?")

Brain shook his head, trying to shake away the thought.

"You've fought them before," Sigurd said. "Surely you know something."

A bitter taste filled Brain's mouth, and for a moment, he was looking at a vision that was a memory all his own: of Ven, stepping forward to confront Darkness, sealing it inside himself, despite their protests.

"Ow! Is squeezing my arm that hard necessary?"
"There isn't a way to fight it," Brain said—and then he was kicking backward, backpedaling to get away from the shadows that rose to grab him. He spun in a tight circle, dragging Sigurd with him, cutting through the shadows and trying to force them back. Sigurd lifted his Keyblade, a Fire spell exploding from the tip and cutting a path through the shadows. Brain took advantage of it, racing across the cobblestones. "That's why your whole plan is to trap it, right?"

He could almost feel Sigurd thinking. His breath hissed out finally as the realization seemed to sink in. "That's why—Master Brain, surely you're not planning to try this alone—"

"I'm not. Got you, right?" He gave Sigurd a smile that was too sharp to be friendly.

Sigurd made a disgruntled noise. "There are supposed to be other wielders—ones strong enough to help—"

"And Darkness is here right now. But if you think you can run and find them…"

Brain trailed off; Master's Defender whipped around, a chain flying from the tip and snagging in a building. Brain used it to launch them both into the air, ignoring Sigurd's shout of alarm as they soared over the ruins, shadows trailing after them. They landed awkwardly, pain rocketing through Brain's legs, but he barely let himself stumble, kicking back into motion and hurrying down the streets. Come on. It has to be here somewhere. The Clock Tower was such a familiar thing that he thought he could've found it in his sleep—but the streets had been changed, broken apart by the destruction of their home and worn by time, and he found he was no longer sure which direction he needed to go in.

"That still doesn't explain why you left your friends—"

"If we stop Darkness, we save them." We save everyone. (And then maybe—) "You going to keep arguing or are you going to help?"

Sigurd didn't say anything for several moments—but then he sighed, the sound frustrated but resigned. "Very well. Do you have any ideas?"

Brain turned. The shadows rose tall around him, and he braced himself, sending a wave of light from Master's Defender. "The Clock Tower. That's the last place I saw it. If it's anywhere, it's probably there."

"And where's the Clock Tower?"

"Still looking for it."

Sigurd made a distressed noise, but he didn't protest any further as Brain dragged him forward.

---

-You were…drowning, you thought. It felt like it, anyways—like you were choking on air, struggling under a cacophony of emotions and images you couldn't quite process. You heard one name, and it sounded right, even if it sat wrong on your tongue; you heard another, and it hit your ears wrong, but your mouth formed around it like it had always been yours. You blinked, and you were, for a moment, laughing in Daybreak Town's Fountain Square; you blinked again, and you were tossing a coin into the Founder's Fountain, hoping for the luck you'd need to maybe, maybe find your friends.

You thought they were both you; you weren't sure which one came first.

(It hurts it hurts it hurts make it stop—)

You wanted to run. You wanted to run and hide and sleep but you couldn't because—

Because they were here. And they wouldn't go away.

You knew them. They were—Skuld, but not as you knew here. She was (you knew so much more about her than you thought, you knew that she sometimes couldn't sleep from anxiety about the Keyblade War, you knew she liked sweet things and had helped you make cookies when you were both missing Ephemer, you knew she'd struggled a lot with spells at first and asked you to train with her because of that)—she was.

They were—the boy who looked like Ephemer. Kvasir. (So much shallower than Skuld, a strange empty pool of nothingness that felt like it should be filled with something, and maybe that would've made it easier to look at him and see him, but you kept thinking about this is Ephemer's descendant and you were happy and sad and confused and—)

You were—going to find them. And you were going to make them leave. Because you—you thought you were supposed to die, before, but you didn't, and that didn't feel fair. You wanted to rest. You didn't want—whatever this was.

"There, Little Light," said your—friend (your murderer), but you didn't need them to tell you, because you could hear the footsteps, anyways.

That was—Kvasir. Kvasir. (You) Mimir looked at him, and they wanted to scold him, because of course he'd come chasing after him, wasn't he supposed to be careful, please have more common sense Ephemer—

Ephemer. That was—

(An aching chest. A flash of light. A flash of terror, and pain, and relief, all in one.)

You were shaking.

You weren't—here, anymore. Or maybe you always were. It was—hard to tell. But right now, you thought you were in the lifeboat chamber, but you were staring at someone not quite right—a stranger with a friend's face, and you tilted your head, eyebrows furrowing as you tried to figure out what was wrong.

The boy who looked like Ephemer (Kvasir) gave you a tentative sort of smile. "Ah. Hello. Mimir?"

(Kvasir what are you doing Darkness might hurt you why did you come—)

"I—think maybe we startled you?" The boy moved, taking a couple of tentative steps closer, and you—Mimir—you moved back, a little, free hand flexing, like it wanted to do—something. "Darkness…gave us all visions. When we came to find you. They pulled out the parts of us that we found…hardest to deal with. And…I guess that maybe that's what it's doing to you, too?"

That was—wrong. Darkness was—protecting them. You. Protecting you. They made it so you didn't have to see—

(the flash of Keyblades a world falling apart a friend torn apart by Heartless years spent alone alone alone)

The boy faltered, looking like he didn't entirely know what he was supposed to say. He turned, eyes traveling over the buildings, and you realized they were broken. You didn't know when that happened—

But…didn't you? Daybreak Town had fallen. Scala ad Caelum had been built in its place.

But…you died in Daybreak Town, how would you know about—

"You—" the boy broke off, something almost hesitant in his expression. "Skuld said you look like her friend. From—before."

You blinked, because you weren't quite sure what that meant. From…before what? The Keyblade War…?

(From before Scala ad Caelum.)

(I'm Mimir I'm not the same person I'm—)

"Mimir," the boy said, and (Mimir) you flinched, staring at him like a wounded animal as he took half a step in your direction. "Darkness said…something about an incident with your magic." A pause. "Do you know what's going on?"

You were—you were in Daybreak Town. You were home, back before things were complicated, but there were people who were here that were making it hard.

"I—"

You Mimir tried to meet Kvasir's eyes, and found, just as suddenly, that they couldn't. How could they explain…? "I'm not—who you thought I was."

Kvasir started, and it made Mimir feel like they were choking.

"I'm not who I thought I was." They flexed their fingers, and their head felt too full—a heady mixture of emotions and memories that they weren't really sure how to parse apart. It felt like they were too small, suddenly, their skin too tight, their chest too small to hold two hearts—or whatever had happened, between them and you.

It felt like you'd been lying to him—to them. You were surprised at the surge of shame; less so at the exhaustion, so bone-deep it seemed to have followed you across lifetimes. Whoever this person might've been, once—they weren't there anymore. You had refused to just go to sleep, like the other Dandelions, and taken the place of someone else.

Except you weren't sure you were entirely you anymore, either. You had melded into Mimir's heart so completely that it felt like you'd lost bits of yourself; like those parts would keep slipping away, if you didn't hold onto them.

(They will hate you, something inside you whispered, for taking your friend away. If only you had stayed asleep, perhaps that child could've lived in blissful ignorance.)

"I…don't know where Mimir is, anymore."

You watched as Kvasir's smile faltered and broke a little, and something inside you crumbled.

(Have you not caused your friends enough pain?)

"That's…not a particularly funny joke."

"It's not a joke."

(You stayed behind in the Keyblade War, and they came back to find you.)

"I did something to them," you whispered, and it took a moment for you to realize you were signing the words, too. You faltered, because you might've known how to sign, but you rarely did it.

Kvasir glanced at your hands, and there was something hopeful in his expression.

"To us," you corrected. "I'm sorry."

Kvasir blinked, looking up, and there was something confused and raw and painful on his face. You looked away, and—and you realized he was alone. You wondered where Skuld had gone to; you wondered if, when she looked at you, all she could see was the monster you'd pretended to be.

(You fought them in the lifeboat chamber, and it might have saved them, but look at the grief it caused. Look at the way Skuld flinches from you now. Did Ephemer ever realize what you'd done? Would that make the guilt harder or easier to bear?)

"You need to leave," you said, and there was something like steel in your voice; something older, like the wielder who'd fought in the Keyblade War.

Kvasir stared at you, and then his expression set stubbornly, his shoulders straightening. His Keyblade flashed into his hands, and it dawned on you that he was ready to fight you on this. It made it hard not to see Ephemer in him. (And wasn't that a strange thing to say—to talk like you knew the founder of Scala ad Caelum, even if there was a part of you that knew that, impossibly, it was true.)

"We came to find our friend," Kvasir said. "So we're not leaving without you."

(And now look—they've stepped willingly into the darkness, trying to bring you home. Well—trying to bring Mimir home. But it's not really Mimir in there anymore, is it?)

"I'm not who you thought I was," you repeated, frustrated. "Stop—being oblivious. That's what got us into this mess."

It was a cruel thing to say, but the guilt when he flinched was hardly noticeable, with the rest of—everything. And there was a part of you them that was angry with him. If he hadn't talked to his uncle, he would've never known about them—and then maybe, you wouldn't be having this conversation at all.

(If you went back to sleep, would it mean they'd come back?)

Your throat tightened—but you had fought friends before, to try and save them. This wouldn't be anything different. You shifted your feet just a little—and then you moved, kicking across the space with a burst of magic, Keyblade swung back.

(You cannot undo all the wrongs you've done. Perhaps the only way you can spare them more pain is to stay away.)

Clang! You hit a Keyblade, but it wasn't Kvasir's. You found yourself staring at a familiar face, expression creased in stress, lips pursed and hands shaking. Skuld.

You were in the lifeboat chamber again. You were staring down your friends, Darkness hovering over your shoulder, and you knew you had to put up a good front, or everything would fall apart.

(You had to save them. You had to save them. You had to save them for once do something useful—)

"Skuld?" Eph—the boy who looked like Ephemer, Kvasir. He didn't sound relieved. He sounded…worried, almost, hand lifted hesitantly. "Are you…?"

Her eyes flicked up to yours. They flicked away again almost as quickly, and she nodded tersely, stubbornly quiet. You felt like she should be saying something. It felt…uncanny, after everything before.

You stumbled away. It gave Skuld a chance to recollect herself; for Kvasir to step up beside her, Keyblade held ready, even if there was something like regret on his face.

You stared back at them, and then you lifted your Keyblade.

Skuld's eyes narrowed, a little. Her fingers traced something unfamiliar on her shoulder—a metal plate, something neither of your lives recognized. After a deep breath she pressed it, and in a flash of light she was covered in armor, face carefully hidden.

That was…good. It'd make it easier, if you didn't have to look at her face.

(You would make any sacrifice. What was one more, in the grand scheme of things?)

You didn't give them the chance to attack first.

---

-"Look out!"

Brain reacted quickly to Sigurd's shout, spinning away before he even entirely had time to register what he was dodging away from. Debris scattered across his face, and he winced, ducking away. The shadows swept along the streets like a wave, covering the ruins in darkness, and Brain cursed quietly and moved. One hand grabbed Sigurd's arm, tugging him onward; Master's Defender swung around, a chain flying from the tip and digging into a building. It sent them soaring through the air, giving Brain a very, very brief view of the rest of the ruins.

He couldn't see the Clock Tower anywhere. Did it even survive? Maybe I'm searching for something that isn't even there anymore.

Sigurd shifted; it took Brain a moment to realize he was shooting spells behind them, like he was trying to ward off Darkness. Brain glanced behind them to see the tide of shadows close on their heels; with a flick of his Keyblade he sent another chain towards a building across the street, swinging them around and away again. "Hang on!"

"I'm trying!"

Something dark shot from the ground, tugging on Brain's leg. He grimaced, spinning around and aiming for something in the distance; the chains rattled, tugging him free with a snapping sound. Another shift, and they zig-zagged in a different direction, flying across the street.

Not that it mattered much; Darkness might had spread themself thin, stretching out in a wide net across the ruins, but it meant they could sweep a much broader area. We need to find somewhere to hide and regroup. He hit the ground only briefly, launching himself back into the air and ignoring Sigurd's startled noise. Not like there are a lot of options. Darkness could lurk anywhere down here, and he wouldn't leave without the others.

Chains rattled overhead, and his head snapped up. One of them hung close, glowing dimly. Master's Defender hummed, and when Brain blinked, he thought he could see—

("You're sure this will hold them?"

"Not forever. Not entirely. But the light can keep them away—at least, long enough for us to rebuild.")

The chains. They could stay close to those, maybe—give them a vantage point to regroup.

Brain's feet hit a rooftop; he threw himself off it almost as soon as he landed, shadows rushing over the place he'd been.

"Slow down!" An exasperated noise, and then another sound like a firing spell.

A chain wrapped around a lamp post; Brain swung around it, launching the two of them high into the air. There. A set of stairs, chains rattling near it. It wasn't the same set they'd come down, he didn't think—it looked, from what he could tell, like it was on the far side of the ruins—but it would give them a good vantage point to survey the rest of the ruins. He changed their trajectory with a flick of his Keyblade; shadows brushed past his face, and he hissed quietly, flinching away from them.

Light flared behind them—Sigurd, a spell arcing from his Keyblade, the shadows pushed back for half a second. Brain's lips twitched briefly towards a smile, and then he turned away, aiming Master's Defender towards the stairs. His chains struck home, dragging them over the ruins.

"Where do you think you're running, Little Light?"

"To your right!"

Brain turned just a little too slow. For a moment, only darkness filled his vision; then there was pain, and the world was spinning, his grip on both Sigurd and Master's Defender lost momentarily. There was a strange, cold, empty feeling in his palms without the hum of an almost-familiar Keyblade; Brain's hand shot out and called it back almost on instinct, and realized only afterward that there was a familiar singing behind his ribcage, warm and bright.

He crashed into a building, rotted wood splintering under his back. He hit the floor with a grunt, rolling, and it creaked underneath him.

(Most everything was decayed, now, but he thought he could make out the remains of a table, a piece of broken pottery nearby. He wondered, distantly, if this place had belonged to one of the Dandelions or if its owner had died in the Keyblade War.)

"Brain!"

"I'm fine!" he tried to shout back, pushing himself to his feet and ignoring the ache in his chest.

The room suddenly become much darker. Shit.

"You chose to come down here, didn't you?"

Movement from the shadows. Brain threw himself into a roll; something struck the place where he'd been, the wood cracking underneath the force of it.

"Do you really think you can flee now?"

Another shift. Brain swung Master's Defender, the Keyblade glowing, and shadows hissed around the edges.

"Come, Little Light. You wanted to change the rules of our game—and we are happy to play."

Overhead. Brain threw up a barrier, and the shadows crashed down on top of it. The floor broke underneath him, and his stomach dropped as he fell; the barrier cracked and nearly broke, Brain slamming into the ground with a hiss. Beyond his barrier he could barely see anything, save the gleam of what looked like yellow eyes.

"It's not quite so fun, is it? Are you sure this is what you wanted?"

Brain chuckled quietly, and ignored the way it stung his chest. "You're a sore loser, aren't you?"

A low, rumbling laugh echoed through his ears and made his chest ache. Darkness pressed a little harder against the barrier, and Brain winced as it creaked. "You are so…interesting, Little Light. So stubbornly attached to your friends—but so willing to abandon them for something to assuage your guilt. It is…surprising."

Brain gritted his teeth, lifting Master's Defender to try and solidify the barrier.

"You are looking for that box, aren't you?" Those yellow eyes narrowed. "We have been here for centuries. Tell us—do you think that it would still be down here with us?"

It was a valid point—but it was the only lead they had.

(Guilt twisted in his chest, sharp. He thought he could see red at the edges of his fingers when he squinted—but he blinked, and the image was gone again.)

"Do you know what your friends are doing right now?" Darkness leaned closer, and he thought he could almost make out a face in the shadows. Their voice dropped to a whisper. "They are fighting—trying to convince your missing friend to come home with them. There are only two of them, you know. How much easier would it have been, if you were there with them?"

Brain's grip tightened around Master's Defender, and he tried to ignore the taste of bile. "Sigurd," he shouted, "any time!"

That great head tilted—and then there was a burst of light, and a screech of alarm.

The barrier fell. Brain kicked away, darting out of the building.

Sigurd waited there, Keyblade lifted. The moment he saw him he turned, hurrying off down the street. "I think maybe we just made them angry."

"Don't think they could be much angrier." Brain glanced back at the building; the shadows rose from it, a low, whining sort of wail ringing across the street.

(The others are still trapped. Are they going to be hurt, because of me?

…Stay safe. Please.)

The shadows rose like a tidal wave. Brain grabbed Sigurd, chain flying from the tip of his Keyblade; it arced around Darkness, slammed into something he couldn't see, and with a tug they were flying, edging just above the shadows as they crashed into the ground. Darkness moved almost as soon as they'd hit the streets, darting from broken cobblestones to wall to rooftop, zipping after them.

Brain gritted his teeth. Master's Defender burned in his palm, screeching with something like a warning.

(He blinked, and he was standing in the middle of a field. Heartless surged towards him, and with a cry that didn't sound like it came from him he lifted his Keyblade. It came down with a crash, a bright shockwave exploding from the impact, Heartless bursting into smoke.)

"Sigurd," Brain said, "brace yourself."

"That…is not encouraging."

Brain huffed something that was almost a laugh, then shifted in midair. The chain disappeared, and the two of them plummeted towards Darkness.

"Wait—Master Brain—!"

Master's Defender burned. Magic flooded the Keyblade, warm and bright. It made his arm shake, something molten in his chest and on his tongue. He lifted his Keyblade one-handed, high above his head.

Darkness rose to meet him, and Master's Defender fell.

Shadows split around the edges of the Keyblade. They stung his cheek and filled his lungs with smoke. Light flared, bright, nearly-blinding, and Brain had to squint against it. With a shout he moved, slashing Master's Defender swiftly downward. The weapon clanged! against the ground, and from the impact rose a wave of light. It spread outward faster than he could track, and the darkness fell away against it, chased towards the edges of the ruins with something that sounded like a pained screech.

And then everything was quiet. For a moment, Brain was dizzy. He blinked, sunspots dancing across his vision—but nothing came back to grab him.

He laughed, breathless. It was only a temporary reprieve, he knew—but it was something, at least.

"What," Sigurd started, "did you—"

"Come on." Brain wobbled a little as a he forced himself upright, taking a moment to steady himself. Sigurd caught his arm, holding him steady, and Brain flashed him what he hoped was a grateful look and started moving. "They'll be back before too long."

"Brain—"

"A valiant attempt, Little Light."

Brain stiffened. Shit. He started to move, kicking forward despite the shakiness—

And then something surged up around his legs.

He tripped over himself, tumbling towards the ground. Sigurd shouted as he was torn out of his grip, shadows grasping at his waist, his arms. Very abruptly Brain found himself tugged off the ground, twisted to stare at a looming head and large, bright yellow eyes. Jagged jaws curled into an eerie sort of smile. "Do you want to play a game?"

He wasn't given the opportunity to answer; in the blink of a moment he was flying, stunned silent with the action.

"Brain!"

Move, the logical part of him ordered. You need to do something.

Darkness surged after him; Brain caught a brief glance of them as he flew, falling rapidly towards the ruins.

He spun; an Aero spell whipped around him, slowing his decent, but it wasn't enough to stop the sting of pain as he crashed into—

Water?

It took a moment to register, bubbles foaming around his mouth, everything cool and dark—but there was water here, deep enough to sink into. Had Darkness planned to throw him in this? Or had it just been accidental? Don't worry about it. Just—

Oh.

Maybe it'd been intentional, after all—because there, just visible in the distance, was Daybreak Town's Clock Tower.

---

-Focus. Skuld breathed in, and then out. She moved, falling into a familiar rhythm. She knew fighting; she could do it almost as easily as breathing. Except—

(There were flashes of the lifeboat chamber when she blinked. If she looked hard enough, she thought she saw a different friend. She stared at someone she thought she knew, and found she couldn't quite parse apart the complicated emotions that came with it.)

Her breath stuttered with her footsteps, and she had to catch herself after a moment, sweeping upwards to catch her blade against—against theirs.

(Where are you?)

Something flickered across their face, and then it steeled. They twisted their blade, metal screeching against metal, and in a heartbeat they'd spun around to catch Kvasir's attack.

Focus. A quick strike, slipping beneath their guard. They grunted quietly under the force of it, stumbling. It's like the Keyblade War was; you can't think about what's happening, because you have to save them.

(Except she hadn't been fighting them before. That had only happened when—)

Another shaky breath, rattling against her ribcage. She ignored the way it stung, slashing upward—

Careful, careful, you could hurt them—

(They could hurt us.)

A flash; something flickered near her face, and she flinched away from it, Starlight rising to block. Her opponent spun, Keyblade a blur as they moved to parry first her strike, then Kvasir's. Her throat filled with bile; from the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Darkness creeping around the edges of the battlefield—thought she saw a flash of a red scarf or a glowing computer screen, and she sucked in a deep breath and tried to push the image aside.

Kvasir kicked away from the fight a little, Keyblade lifting; the other wielder launched themself after him, and Skuld reacted just as quickly, magic sending her shooting nearly into their back. They spun to catch her attack, weapons crashing.

"Skuld! Back up!"

She kicked away, and the other wielder moved to pursue her—only to find themself crashing into a barrier. Kvasir's grin was refracted behind it, shaky but relieved.

That's—that's good. If we can stop them—we can at least get them out of here, maybe.

(But what are we going to do after that?)

(What do I do with…?)

Crack! A Keyblade crashed against the barrier, sending long, spindly cracks through the force field.

Kvasir faltered, looking suddenly less certain.

The other wielder looked thoughtful. They lifted their blade, and it glowed red.

They're going to break out. Skuld launched herself across the distance, slamming into Kvasir; a half a moment later, the barrier exploded, throwing glass-like shards and smoke across the broken Daybreak Town.

Movement sounded behind them; Skuld spun, and a Keyblade caught on the armor covering her arm. Something flickered across their face, and then disappeared again; they leapt backward, into the smoke, and Skuld surged after them.

(They were very good at pretending.)

"Mimir!" Kvasir shouted. "Do you remember joining the Exploration Department, with me and Skuld and Meili?"

That won't work, Skuld thought, almost bitter; her footsteps rang against metal, and when she spun she saw a broken lifeboat, still sparking in the background.

The other wielder's weapon clashed against hers, once, twice, and her weapon slipped around the edge, crashing into the back of their knees. They stumbled under the blow, and Skuld winced, hesitating half a moment, Keyblade lifted above them.

The other wielder took advantage of the distraction; they turned, Keyblade flying towards her, and she stepped back, the weapon scraping harmlessly against her armor.

"So stubborn." The shadows shifted, sliding along the ground as the smoke cleared. "None of you Union Leaders ever seem happy to accept our terms."

"Shut up. You don't get to take them again."

The other wielder surged upward; Skuld caught the blow on the edge of the blade, twisting them out of the way.

Kvasir appeared out of the dispersing smoke, Keyblade swinging towards their back. He winced a little, then changed its trajectory, locking the wielder's Keyblade against the ground. They half-turned and Skuld thought she almost caught a glare.

"You're studying heart magic," Kvasir said, sounding a little desperate. "With one of the Keepers."

The second Starlight twisted. The teeth caught the edge of Kvasir's, tugging just slightly to force him off balance. Skuld reacted just as quickly, Keyblade crashing into their side with enough force to send them flying. Kvasir made a wounded noise, but Skuld tried not to think about it, shooting after them.

Starlight whipped around. A spell formed at the tip—a slow-growing ball of fire, so bright it nearly blinded her, and—

—and Skuld stumbled a little, throwing up a barrier, and the spell crashed against it, briefly illuminating the lifeboat chamber. She winced away from the heat, twisting a little to adjust her footing, and her friend (Darkness, it was Darkness) exploded into action; their Keyblade crashed into the barrier, breaking through it with a crash, and Skuld side-stepped, sweeping her weapon towards their side. They caught her attack, sending her briefly off-balance; magic coated her Keyblade as she swung it, keeping her opponent back and giving her a chance to regain her footing.

"You can't reach them," her frie—Darkness hissed, eyes narrowed in something like fury.

"Shut up," she growled, and she shot forward, weapon dipping beneath theirs at the last minute to send a spell into their midsection. It was weak—enough to stun, but not enough to seriously harm—and it sent them flying backwards.

Ephemer appeared from the shadows, and with a flick of his Keyblade he'd thrown a barrier up around them, shouting, "Meili was teaching us to cook!"

…What?

Skuld blinked, and—

—and it was like the world shifted, a little. Ephemer was—was Kvasir, still looking vaguely pained. "We were staying at their place," he continued. "With them and their partners."

Her friend was—was still a mismatch between Mimir and the person she'd once known, their clothes a motley sort of mess. Something heavy clinked on her shoulders—armor, she realized after a moment, heavy and protective.

It made her feel vaguely ill, and she tried to swallow it down. It was easier to move than to think about it, and so she did, crossing the short distance between her and her friend, weapon drawn.

The other wielder narrowed their eyes. Kvasir's barrier was shaky, thrown up in haste, and with a swing it shattered—but Kvasir was ready this time, lunging across the space and wrapping his arms around the other wielder. They twisted, practically snarling, something panicked in their expression; they elbowed Kvasir, and he hissed quietly, but didn't move.

Skuld's Keyblade lifted; it had been a while since she'd used this spell, but she still remembered it, at least, glowing chains forming at the very end.

Mim—the other wielder's eyes narrowed, and they lifted their feet, ignoring Kvasir's startled noise as he stumbled under their weight. They kicked, and while it didn't hurt much with her armor, it did make her stumble a little. The other wielder twisted, Keyblade swinging, and they finally broke free of Kvasir's grip; their weapon scraped against Skuld's armor, just barely, and her spell shot just over Kvasir's shoulder. The other wielder hit the ground and rolled, and Skuld tried to swing her blade around and catch them, but they'd surged to their feet, half-hopping backwards to get away from her, and with a growl she shot after them—

—ignoring the way Darkness lurked around the edges. They were just standing there, watching them, and it made her blood boil.

Ephemer moved beside her; the two of them circled around their friend, trying to pin them from either side. She attacked; they parried. Ephemer went to strike at their arm; they spun, weapon flashing as they moved, back and forth, trying to keep up with an increasingly frantic flurry of blows, and Skuld felt like something inside her was crumbling. I'm going to lose you, she thought. I'm going to lose you, and there's nothing I can do.

Her friend moved, kicking towards her, and—

And their face didn't look like theirs—not entirely. She could see remnants of Mimir in it, and she reeled as she moved backwards, kicking away. The weapon flashed, slamming into her chest; off-balanced, she tumbled to the ground, hissing quietly as she fell.

A Keyblade glinted above her, and she froze. The whole world seemed to shift, hazy and indistinct, and she found herself staring up at her friend from a metal floor, watching as they were ready to bring their weapon down.

"Mimir, don't!"

(Ephemer had killed them to protect her last time.)

Skuld moved without thinking; she surged upward, and she thought she saw the other wielder's eyes widen briefly before she slammed into their midsection. They both crashed into the ground, Skuld wincing with the force of the impact. She waited there, shaking, arms clinging to her friend, and—

And nothing happened.

One second passed. Then another. Slowly, it started to dawn on Skuld that nobody had done anything; that Kvasir hadn't attacked Mimir to defend her, like his ancestor had before him. It should've been a relief, but it just made her throat tighten.

Something jammed into her stomach—the other wielder's knee as they squirmed out of her grip. The attack didn't hurt, but she let them go, anyways, and had to force herself to her feet as they moved to attack her.

Her Keyblade blocked the blow. Her arms were shaking. There was a slow-growing anger, burning in her chest. They took you from us last time, she thought. It shouldn't have—it shouldn't have ended like that. We should've got out of there. We shouldn't have had to—

She screamed, sweeping her opponent's Keyblade aside, and they stumbled a little, scrambling to catch themself. Skuld moved, a burst of ice, then fire, flying from her Keyblade. The other wielder slipped aside, ducking between the streaks of magic, weapon lifting in kind. For a few moments the battlefield was a blur, spell after spell after spell nearly blinding her. Her chest ached, a faint metallic taste on her tongue, but she kept going, stubbornly bracing her arm.

A barrier formed in front of her, nearly startling her; a heartbeat later, a spell exploded against her barrier, bigger than the last. The other wielder appeared out of the burst, Keyblade lifted; their eyes widened at the barrier, faltering as they crashed against it.

When the barrier fell, she was ready; as the other wielder tumbled towards her, she swept her Keyblade upward, crashing against their midsection. It sent them flying with a gasp; they hit the ground, and lay there for a moment, stunned. Skuld stared at them, shaking, breathing heavily—and then they pushed themself up slowly, Keyblade lifting, expression stubbornly steeled.

It made something in her snap.

"What are you doing?" she shouted, something raw and grieved making her voice crack. "Why are you doing this again?"

Their expression faltered. They hesitated, just a moment, and then their weight shifted; she expected them to shoot towards her, but abruptly their turned, bolting in the opposite direction.

"Mimir!" Kvasir shouted, shooting after them, and Skuld hissed under her breath, scrambling in their direction.

The other wielder whipped towards Kvasir; their weapon crashed into his, and he almost buckled under the force of it. Skuld shouted in alarm, surging towards them. Across the distance, she could see Kvasir's face; something was breaking slowly across his expression, grief and resignation and worry, all mixed together. "Are they really gone?" Kvasir asked, so quiet that Skuld almost didn't hear him.

The other wielder flinched, but didn't say anything; they pressed their Keyblade a little harder against his, and Kvasir flinched under the force of it.

"Mimir—"

They disengaged just as abruptly; Kvasir stumbled, flailing a little, and the other wielder darted away, dashing in the opposite direction with magic-fueled steps.

"Mimir, wait!"

No you don't. Skuld shot after them, magic sending her flying first to one rooftop, then another. The other wielder glanced back at her, something she couldn't read in their expression. They kicked against a piece of rubble and turned, midair, to send a burst of fire in her direction. She cut through it, ignoring the embers that showered across her hands. I'm bringing you back—whether you want to come or not.

The other wielder fell, diving rapidly towards the streets, and Skuld followed, bouncing from a roof, to a wall, to the cobblestones, spinning around a corner and shooting a Zero Gravity spell in their direction. They hissed quietly as their feet lifted off the ground, but they spun with the motion, flipping upside down and firing small, quick bursts of ice. They crashed into the ground around Skuld, creating frozen landmines. The other wielder flew further away with the force from the spells; their Keyblade struck, digging into a piece of floating rubble and swinging them around.

Skuld launched herself upward, kicking against the side of a building and throwing herself at them with a shout. She tackled them full force, sending them tumbling, over and over, towards the ground. With a jerk Skuld had swung them around, Keyblade whipping skyward. Chains rattled at the tip, wrapping around a near-sideways lamppost, and she used it to swing towards another broken bit of her home.

Something slammed into her side—the other wielder's Keyblade, she realized after a moment, the air driven out of her as she lost her grip. She hit the ground with a crash, burning pain scraping along her arm and back. A surge of magic kept the other wielder floating; a flick of their wrist and a spell, and then they were shooting off in a different direction.

Skuld screamed in frustration and chased after them. A Blizzard spell flickered at the tip of her blade; it missed, the other wielder spinning on a small spit of land, sending a volley back her way. Duck away, fire another attack—she landed on a small, floating patch of cobblestones, clinging to it as it spun. A kick and she was moving again, streaking across the sky like a star.

Attack after attack after attack—magic flying back and forth across the sky, everything a blur of shadows with brief, bright flashes of color. They hardly stayed still for more than a second, leaping back and forth across outcrops and roofs and lamp posts. But they were running out of room; Daybreak Town tapered off into nothing, broken hills and ancient cobblestones trailing upward, dwindling into tiny little pieces of rock.

Fire brushed Skuld's cheek. She flinched away from it a little, breath hissing. One foot hit a floating outcrop; she barely gave herself time to shift her weight, magic fueling her kick as she went flying towards the other wielder.

It seemed to take them a heartbeat to realize she wasn't stopping. They started to lift their Keyblade, but they weren't quick enough; she slammed into their midsection, arms wrapping tightly around them, closing her eyes against the whipping wind. They plummeted, falling rapidly towards the streets below, and Skuld gritted her teeth as she clung harder.

A last minute spell softened their impact—but not quite enough to erase the effects entirely. The force knocked Skuld free, her fingers torn from her opponent; despite the armor, pain rocketed through her shoulder as she bounced against the ground once, twice, rolling to an unceremonious stop a few paces away. For several moments all she could do was lay there, stunned and panting.

(Distantly, she thought she could hear Kvasir shouting her name.)

The pain faded a little—not entirely gone, but distant enough that she could push herself onto her elbows. Her ears were ringing, head spinning, vision blurry—but the other wielder was still down. They groaned a little, shifting, but they didn't get to their feet.

Skuld braced her Keyblade against the ground. She pushed herself up, hissing as her fingers slipped against the Keyblade. With another shaky attempt she made it to a standing position; she wobbled a little, but didn't fall. Cautiously she started forward, using her Keyblade like a crutch, taking one painful step after another towards—

Towards her friend.

They cracked an eye open and looked at her, chest heaving. Bile filled her throat when she stared down at them, panting just as heavily. I—did that. I—

There was something in their expression she couldn't name; she had to avert her eyes, ignoring how they stung. Is it really fair to force them to come home? some part of her whispered. Is it fair to take them back if they don't have a choice?

They stayed there, silent, for a long time—whether because neither of them could figure out what to say, or because they were both too exhausted from the fight and fall, she wasn't sure. "I'm…sorry," she said finally. "I—"

(What was she supposed to say to this?)

"Why," the other wielder whispered, "can you never let me go?"

"Skuld!" Kvasir, clearer now, footsteps coming closer. "Mimir!"

The other wielder pushed themself up, slowly—wobbly on their feet, still, but standing.

"We—" Skuld broke off, staring at them, and found, just as suddenly, that she didn't have the words. Her legs, still uncertain, wobbled underneath her, and she had to adjust her Keyblade to catch herself.

The other wielder glanced behind her, something pained in their expression. They pulled away, and Skuld had the terrible understanding that they were going to try and run.

"Wait," she said, starting towards them. "Mimir, wait—"

It happened so quickly that Skuld wasn't even sure the other wielder knew what they were doing. One moment she was moving, reaching towards them; the next, they were turning, eyes widening in panic, hand outstretched; the next, there was a palm over her heart, and a sudden, sharp flash of pain, something tugging against the back of her ribcage. And then—

And then she was back in Scala ad Caelum.

---

-Time had clearly taken a toll on the Clock Tower. It was still recognizable by its shape, but bits and pieces of its spires had broken away. Brain couldn't see the clock itself; he didn't know if it was obscured by the distance, or if it was truly missing. The color had bled out of it, leaving something that looked gray and dead; he might've thought he was staring at stone, if he couldn't just barely make out the outlines of windows, the towers still so achingly familiar.

Master's Defender was warm in his palms—a comforting weight, rather than the burning thing that had fueled him through the fight. It felt like another hand was pressing against his, gently, murmuring words that he couldn't quite make out.

"Can you see it? The results of your folly."

Yellow eyes flashed, and it dawned on Brain suddenly that he needed to move, needed to get out of the water and breathe—

Something slammed into him from behind. He bit down on a gasp, lungs burning, and cast a frantic Aeroga. The spell whipped around him, forcing the water away temporarily and giving him a chance to breathe.

And then the shadows moved again, all-encompassing. A frantic barrier spell was enough to protect him from the sudden flood of water, air still trapped, but not enough to keep him still. The barrier crashed through one of the Clock Tower windows—empty now, even of glass—and flew with enough force to embed itself in one of the far walls.

"Down here, we are in my domain, Little Light."

It was so dark it was hard to see. That was good, he supposed, because when he squinted, he thought it looked like one of their rooms. Ven's, maybe, by one of the trinkets he thought he saw, buried beneath silt and rubble.

A low, bubbling hiss was the only warning he got before his barrier was moving again, dragged out of the wall and shoved down through the floors. He bounced against it, and he had to grit his teeth and steady himself, Master's Defender flashing as he tried to reinforce his barrier.

"Well? You wanted to go home, didn't you?"

Focus. You need to get moving. You need to get back to the lifeboat chamber—

Which would be above me now. Of course.

He took a deep breath, then released his barrier. An Aeroga spell shot him flying upward, this time, past broken flooring and rooms that might've once been familiar; his cheek scraped against something sharp, his arm colliding painfully against a broken bit of stone, and he tried to ignore it and keep moving—

An attack from his side forced his breath out of him; he choked on water, flailing in sudden panic, as they shadows spread across him like a web, plastering him against the wall. His chest burned, throat aching as he tried to cough out water and suck in a breath that he couldn't manage, and he needed to get out get out get out—

Master's Defender shook and burned; light flared bright, and Darkness flinched away.

The pressure on Brain's chest vanished, just a little, and another Aeroga spell and barrier gave him a chance to breathe, coughing and spluttering, falling to his hands and knees.

The shadows returned hardly a moment later, leaving a glowing Master's Defender the only light in the darkness. He barely had time to brace himself before he was moving again, barrier spinning through the darkness. He thought it crashed through something, but it was hard to tell, with the shadows still surrounding him.

"What do you hope to find here, Little Light, beyond buried memories?"

Another deep breath, and then the barrier fell again, a chain flying from the tip of his Keyblade and lodging somewhere above him. He dragged himself out of the shadows, flying up, up, up, through the floors of the Clock Tower. Another Aeroga spell, another barrier—brief, just enough to catch his breath—and then he was moving again, chains rattling.

(Where was he? He thought he caught a glimpse of the Foretellers' Chambers, briefly. One of the common rooms, to his side. If he was listening, he thought he could hear the echoes of laughter—but then, maybe he was imagining that.)

He saw the shadows moving, this time, and swung around them; a hastily summoned barrier protected him from a counterstrike, sending him a little higher, the barrier ricocheting off the walls. A low, booming laugh followed him. "Very clever."

Come on. Almost there. The barrier fell, and his chains arced through the water, weaving through the broken bits of debris. The water rushed past him; his eyes ached, forced shut, and he had to hope desperately that he wasn't about to crash into anything. He thought he could feel Darkness snapping at his heels, and all he could do was hold his breath and keep moving.

He reached the end of his spell; he tumbled, over and over himself, until he managed to right himself in the water. He summoned an Aeroga spell and barrier without pausing to think about it, sucking in a desperate breath. His eyes still burned, but when he cracked them open, he thought he could see something that was hazily familiar.

The computer looked cracked and broken. The data Daybreak Town was behind that; he wondered, somewhere distantly, if there was any possible way they could still access the data, and free the Dandelions trapped inside. It's broken, some part of him whispered. Waterlogged. Left here for years. There's no saving them now.

Master's Defender hummed quietly, and there was an echo of grief that was only partially his own. When he blinked, he could see the others, for a moment—could finally hear his own voice, with a version of his Keyblade that was still so young. But when he blinked again, he saw something else: brief flashes of Skuld and a person he knew only briefly, shadows flickering around the edges of the room, someone shouting words he couldn't understand, even if he could still feel the fear-grief-exhaustion. Another blink, and he was watching the Clock Tower crash down around him, the world rumbling as a lifeboat closed over him.

"This is where everything ended for you, isn't it?"

Darkness was back, and Brain dismissed the barrier quickly, kicking through the water. Come on. Come on, there has to be something here.

(The memories that came to him now were his entirely—fractured images of his desperate attempt to get the others out, the slow-growing realization that he was running out of ideas, the despair as he finally found himself facing a challenge he couldn't overcome and taking his one desperate way out.)

The shadows moved, and he swung Master's Defender, the Keyblade moving in a glowing arc. His eyes searched through the shadows, scanning for some sign of the box. There's got to be some sort of clue. At least a sign, of where it went.

(His chest burned. He could still feel the same sort of panic and betrayal he'd felt before, when Luxu had stuck a Keyblade through his chest to try and save him.)

His fingers brushed the ground. There wasn't much here; it'd all been wiped away, by time or by the waves. If there was anything here to find, it'd disappeared a long time ago.

The darkness was moving, and slowly Brain realized it was closing around him. With a panicked swing of his Keyblade he forced it back, light burning in an arc—but the shadows were encroaching, ever-present.

"It must be hard—to see what you've lost."

Brain wanted to scream—there had to be something here, there had to be—but his chest was starting to burn, and he couldn't think couldn't breathe couldn't—

(This had happened before. Once, when he'd been left in a crumbling Clock Tower. He could still feel the way his chest had burned—the way that everything had faded slowly, the way he'd almost, almost given in—)

"Brain!"

…He'd heard this before.

There was something speeding through the shadows—something bright, forcing them away, even if only for a moment. Brain almost thought he could see someone else's barrier, hand stretching through it. Desperate and tired, Brain reached back.

And then they were moving, a spell taking them zipping out of Darkness's clutches, dragging them up, up, up, out of the Clock Tower and towards the water's edge.

(But, briefly, Brain couldn't help but stare back, something dropping in his chest at the realization that he couldn't stay.)

---

-(You were a normal person surrounded by legends.

In the grand scheme of things, you didn't think you were anything special. You were just another member of the Unions, doing your missions day after day after day. You were just another person caught up in the Keyblade War. The only reason you survived is because you became friends with extraordinary people. You happened to help the founder of Scala ad Caelum when he was still a child—a side character in his story, someone to motivate him and help him on his journey to who he was supposed to be. You happened to work together with his best friend to try and save him, and maybe that should've been enough to remember you, but Skuld could've probably handled the task all on her own. They both went on to become Union Leaders—to lead the Dandelions, however briefly they existed. And you—you did nothing.

History did not remember you—not in any way that mattered. Your name had been lost to time; sometimes, it even felt like it was lost to you, the name Mimir echoing in the space where something else had once been. Under slightly different circumstances, you wouldn't have mattered at all—you were just in the right place, at the right time.

Isn't that how it always is? something inside you whispered. That someone just happens to find themselves in the position to do something, and they try to do so, because it is the right thing—even if it doesn't work?

Anyone could've done what I did.

But they didn't. It felt like you were staring at someone almost familiar—a little cat-like creature, ears twitching in worry. Do you think your friends would've survived long enough to do anything if you hadn't acted?

You didn't think it mattered. They're…legends. I'm just me. Why do they keep wasting their time with me?

Because they love you. Because they're your friends.

…Maybe in a kinder world, just being friends would've been enough.)

---

-Skuld almost thought she'd just dreamed up everything—the chase to find Mimir, the fight with Darkness, the confrontation and the slow-growing, hopeless feeling in her chest. Almost. As it was, she found herself suddenly feeling off-kilter, staring at the back of the very friend she'd been trying to find.

Scala's streets were strangely empty. The Founder's Fountain stood tall in the background, but it was almost obscured, like a mist had come in to cover the streets. "Mimir…?" Skuld asked, and her voice seemed to fall, deadened in the quiet air.

Mimir flinched. They curled in on themself a little; they hadn't turned to look at her, yet, and it made her chest tighten.

"Mimir," she continued, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—" She cut herself off, sucking in a shaky breath. "We—"

"Just go home, Skuld."

Their voice was raw, dragged painfully from their throat. They turned, slowly, and there was something tired and resigned in their expression.

"Mimir—"

"I didn't want to be found." Their hands moved, taking over for their voice, their expression still hopelessly exhausted. "It's all so…confusing."

Skuld swallowed tightly. "Yeah. It—it is."

They laughed, tired, and shot her a rueful look. "I guess it'd be hard for you, too, huh?"

She flinched, because she'd been so caught up in her shock that she hadn't had time to think about what this might do to Mimir. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I didn't—"

"I know." Their expression wasn't angry; just tired. "I know. But—" They blinked, and their expression broke a moment, like they were about to cry. They settled onto the edge of the Founder's Fountain and, after a cautious moment, Skuld settled next to them.

Mimir heaved a breath. They blinked rapidly, lips twitching like they were forcing back a sob, and they signed, "Everything's just…too much. I thought I was someone else, and now—"

Skuld wanted to say something—anything to maybe make them feel better—but she got the feeling they had more to say, and so she didn't, letting them fill the space.

"I have all these memories." Their hands shook. "Of people and places that don't feel real. They're all gone now, except for you and Brain. I remember the Keyblade War." Something haunted entered their expression. "I remember dying. I remember—I remember that I used to like dressing up a lot, except I don't like it that much because I grew up without that. I remember being happy that I could have Chirithy because I was allergic to cats. I feed the strays in Scala ad Caelum. I—"

Skuld swallowed tightly and leaned her shoulder against theirs.

"And I remember you. You and Ephemer. I keep…putting you in danger. I keep hurting you—even when I try to save you."

"Save us?" Skuld asked gently.

Mimir didn't say anything for several long moments. "Your friend," they signed finally. "They weren't possessed when they attacked you. It was a trick. They knew that if they didn't do something, you'd try and fight Darkness—and you'd die. So they forced Ephemer to send them and the Darknesses away—and then they trapped them all. Or they thought they did. Darkness came here with them." They paused, expression twisting. "With me."

Something ugly twisted in Skuld's stomach. Anger, because of course they'd try something reckless like that, didn't they know they would've done anything to save them? (That's exactly why they'd done it.) Grief, because maybe they could've saved them—or, at the very least, they could've had a proper goodbye. (There was probably no getting out of the end—not with so many enemies.) Fear, because if the other Darknesses were here, too, that meant that they were in that much more trouble. (And anger again, on behalf of her friend, because despite all they'd given up it still hadn't been enough.)

But she glanced at Mimir's face and swallowed them down. I'm—I'm not the one hurting the most from this. She moved her arm, wrapping it around Mimir's waist and tugging them closer. "I'm sorry," she repeated, and she wasn't sure if she was apologizing for attacking them again or if she just wished they didn't have to go through this. Maybe both.

"I don't want to put you in danger anymore." Their face twisted up, and they choked on a ragged sob. "You shouldn't be—you shouldn't be fighting Darkness for me. Just leave me here."

"Mimir—"

"You can't just leave me and keep yourself safe? For once?"

It stung, and Skuld flinched, the echoes of an ancient war in her ears.

"I don't—I don't know how to deal with this." They heaved a breath, and it rattled in their chest. "I'm…tired."

Skuld didn't know what to say to that—and so she didn't say anything, wrapping her other arm around their waist and tugging them into a hug.

They broke, finally, breath coming in ragged sobs as they hugged her back.

---

-(Mimir hadn't been anyone of note for a very, very long time. They had been an orphan that no one had particularly wanted, struggling to find the people they belonged with. They had been chasing their missing friends—family—for as long as they could remember, even after the point where they'd started to wonder if maybe their missing loved ones hadn't wanted them, either.

And then they'd become a Keyblade wielder, and suddenly there were people in power who did wanted them—but only for their magic. Only for the ability to sense and alter people's hearts. They had finally made themself useful—but beyond the magic, they weren't anything special. They were just them, and—and nobody seemed to like them for themself, really.

Except for Skuld. And Kvasir. And Brain, later, and Meili. Almost without realizing it, they'd started to gain people who liked them for them, however impossible it seemed.

It felt strange, that the same legend had found a nobody and made friends with them twice. But that wasn't what they had been thinking, when they'd first talked to Skuld; they'd thought that it must be lonely, being a legend placed in reality, and they knew what it felt like to be lonely.

They wished they could go back. Back to when they'd just started to make friends with them—back before this whole mess had started. Because—because they weren't sure what this meant.

You can't go back, something told them gently; a soft weight settled in their lap, and their fingers ran through fur. But that's okay.

How is that okay? I don't know who I am anymore.

I think a lot of people don't know who they are. That's not so big a deal; you can figure it out, with a little time.

…I'm tired.

Quiet, for a while. Soft paws patted their waist, not quite big enough to wrap them in a hug, but comforting all the same. It's okay to be tired. It's okay. You can rest for a while. Just…don't give up, okay?

Their throat tightened. They didn't know how to answer that, so they just hugged the little creature, burying their head in its fur as they cried.)

---

-Brain gasped and coughed. Water spilled across the cobblestones. His arms and legs shook, his head lowering to nearly touch the street. He could barely remember getting out of the water, everything a helpless blur of shadows, but someone had—

"Are you alright?"

Sigurd. He laughed, half-hysterical, and fell back onto his heels.

"Brain—"

"It's not here." Brain blinked, and he wasn't sure if his eyes stung from the water or tears or what. "The box isn't here."

Sigurd went very, very quiet.

Another laugh, exhausted and broken. "Of course it's not. Why would it be that simple?" He placed one hand against his head. It felt, a little, like things were crumbling around him. "I left them again. For nothing."

"…You thought you were helping them."

He blinked. Suddenly he just felt…exhausted, like all the energy had drained out of him.

"You got me out," Sigurd offered, quiet.

"And just made Darkness angry."

"We might've made Darkness angry, anyways. You can't know what sort of aftermath your actions will have; you just have to do what you think is right." A pause, quiet and contemplative. "For what it's worth," Sigurd whispered, "I…appreciate you coming for me. And—and Master's Defender clearly chose you. That has to mean something."

The Keyblade hummed in his hand, as if in agreement; Brain wasn't sure he agreed, mouth filled with bile.

"We will find it," Sigurd said, instant. "We just…need some more time."

Brain huffed another laugh, exhausted. "Where would we even look? The last time I saw the box, Master Luxu had it, and it's not like he's still around to ask."

But his Keyblade's still here.

Brain stiffened. Slowly, the inkling of an idea formed—because hadn't Luxu said…?

("I have a role to fulfill—and I'm trying to do that without too many prying eyes.")

"…He was holding the Keyblade when he said that."

"Pardon?"

Brain surged to his feet, ignoring Sigurd's protests, and started pacing. He remembered—seeing that Keyblade, in Freya's office—it was just a small idea, barely more than an inkling, but— "The Keyblade has an eye in it."

"You…aren't making much sense, Master Brain."

"If it could actually see things—record things, maybe—he wouldn't have hidden it in Daybreak Town. But would the Keyblade have seen…?"

It might. He didn't know how to access any insight any more than Freya—but it was still a lead.

"Master Brain—"

Brain turned to him, grin feeling vaguely feral. "I have an idea."

"Oh? And will you leave your friends behind to pursue it?"

Darkness.

The shadows rose with a loud, wailing screech. "Sigurd," Brain called, "help me out. We need a barrier—you think you can help?"

Sigurd nodded, back pressed against his. "On your signal."

The shadows descended.

"Now!"

Master's Defender glowed. A barrier formed around them; the shadows crashed against it with an angry sort of sound, clanging against it again and again and again. The barrier held tight, and Brain narrowed his eyes at Darkness—at the eyes glowing behind it.

(For a moment, he found himself staring at the Darkness in a different time—in a younger Scala, still forming, Master's Defender burning in his hands. "Do you truly think you can fight me, Little Light? When even your legendary father didn't succeed?"

He could feel something like grim amusement, lips twisted into a faint sort of smile. "No—but I think I can stun you, even if it's just for a little while.")

Brain blinked, sucking in a breath. He rocked a little, then lifted his head. There was something like certainty in his chest—a strange sort of knowing, backed up by what felt like generations of Keyblade wielders. "Hey. Darkness."

The shadows paused their onslaught, even if just for a moment.

Brain gave them a very faint grin. "Head's up." And then Master's Defender burned, filling the area with light.

---

-You—they—Mimir gasped. Their eyes were wet. Their chest hurt. There was something like a deep, ancient ache in their chest. They stumbled and fell, their knees hitting the ground. Someone else hit the ground a moment later.

Skuld.

A flicker of panic, despite themself. They glanced at her, lying on the ground—still covered in armor, safe from their attacks. There was an echo of a conversation, and their chest twisted with grief. (They hadn't meant to. They hadn't, they'd just wanted to keep her back, they'd wanted to give themself a chance to escape—)

A voice, shouting—shouting one of their names. Shouting for Skuld. Mimir reacted mostly on instinct, shoving themself shakily to their feet. They wobbled, stumbling backward, Starlight lifted.

A Cure spell flickered over Skuld; Kvasir skidded into view, looking panicked as he bent to check her.

It made something sink in their—your chest. The shadows crept closer to your feet, rising up above your shoulders. I…did that. You glanced around at the broken Daybreak Town. Can we ever…just…

"You should just…leave me."

Kvasir's head shot up, expression pinched.

Your—Mimir's hands tightened around their Keyblade. "Please. I don't…"

They—needed to run. Now, while Skuld was down and Kvasir was distracted. They turned, ready to sprint away—

"I'm sorry."

And paused.

They didn't dare look back at Kvasir, but they heard him stand—slowly, cautiously, like he was trying not to scare them off. "I'm sorry," he repeated, quiet. "It's my fault this happened. I—told my uncle about you. I didn't think—" He cut himself off, took a shuddering breath, and kept going. "But it doesn't matter. If—if you're mad, that's okay. You can hate me if you want, but—but staying here isn't going to keep you safe."

"We have always kept you safe, haven't we?" The voice came whisper quiet in their ears, the shadows creeping over their shoulders. They didn't answer, closing their eyes against the images of—

(a broken lifeboat chamber friends forced to fight them Skuld on the ground like she was now)

"Mimir—" Kvasir broke off, and then continued, quieter, "or—or whatever it is you want to be called, now. I—I don't know what's going on, but—you're still our friend. We looked everywhere to find you."

"I'm not your friend," you snapped, even if there was something in you that was screaming in protest.

"You hang out with us at Meili's," Kvasir said, and you flinched, ignoring the way your chest ached. "You're teaching us sign. You've joked with us. You—that was still real."

You swallowed tightly. Your hands shook from how hard they were clenching your Keyblade.

(You wanted to go back. You wanted to go back you wanted to stay with them—

You couldn't. You didn't know what going back meant.)

"Come on," Kvasir said. "Maybe everything's messed up now, but—but we can make new memories. But we can't do that if you don't come back."

He was standing, now, hand extended, and for one long, hopeless heartbeat, you wanted to take it. Your breath hitched, and then—

("You don't want to hurt them anymore, do you?")

And then you hit it away, throwing yourself forward, and Kvasir backed up with a noise of surprise, Keyblade lifted to block.

(You almost wished you'd taken his hand.)

---

-(Skuld stared at a flaming creature, the remains of someone she'd once been scattered around her. The creature stared back, unblinking—no judgment. Just a question.

"I don't know what to do."

"What you can. That's all you can ever do—or is that not the conclusion you came to when facing me?")

---

-Slash, parry, retreat—over and over and over again. Kvasir looked panicked, lifting his Keyblade to parry the blows without doing anything.

"Fight back," you breathed. "Kvasir, fight back."

Kvasir blinked at you, and there was something sad in his expression. "I don't want to fight you anymore," he whispered. "Is this really what you want?"

(You—Mimir thought of the school building, and of lonely nights spent studying, and of trying to connect with people they didn't know, and of searching for the friends they'd wanted to find for so, so long.

But they also thought of talking to Skuld at the fountain, and Kvasir's stubborn friendliness, and of Brain trailing behind Skuld as she came to apologize, and of Meili's worry.)

"I thought you didn't want to hurt them anymore?" Darkness hissed near your ear.

Kvasir blinked, looking like a name had caught on his tongue, and you shouted and charged.

---

-(There was a girl standing across from Skuld that she didn't know—not really. She looked a lot like her, but she was from a different time—a life she might've had, if things had gone just a little differently. "Are we ever going to be okay?" Skuld whispered. "Why can't I ever…?"

The girl, strangely, laughed, breathless. "It'll take time—but maybe. If you let yourself.")

---

-Your eyes burned. You thought you were screaming, your throat rubbed raw from it. You couldn't quite see Kvasir, everything blurred. Darkness was creeping over your shoulders now, spilling across your chest.

"It'll hurt, Little Light. Going back."

Kvasir skidded sideways. He parried desperately, Keyblade tapping the ground briefly. Something flickered, like a barrier that was trying to throw itself up, and you shot across the distance to slam into Kvasir.

"Show them why they're wrong to claim you."

---

-(Daylight was fading slowly, but Skuld still recognized where she was. She may have only spent a small portion of her life there, but the warm streets felt like home, as achingly familiar as her Keyblade.

The fountain bubbled behind her. People pressed against either side—people she knew, carving out parts of her heart to make space for themselves.

"How am I supposed to move forward?" she whispered. "You're gone, Ephemer. And—" She glanced, briefly, towards her friend, then away again, and exhaled a heavy breath. "Mimir is—I don't know."

Ephemer laughed, and there was an ache in her chest as she realized she wasn't even sure that was what he sounded like, anymore—that slowly but surely, even the most precious memories would start to blur. "You'll figure it out. You've always been good at that."

"You left me."

Ephemer softened then. "Yeah. I'm sorry." He shifted, staring out at Daybreak Town. "I don't…think I can come back this time."

"I miss you. I miss how things used to be."

"I know. And that might hurt for a long time. But that doesn't mean there aren't good things in your life now—right?"

She thought of Brain and Meili and Kvasir and—and Mimir, too, and she laughed, running a hand through her hair. "It's a mess."

"I know," Ephemer repeated. "You don't deserve any of what you've gone through. None of us did. But I guess it's the hand we were dealt." He blinked, turning to look at her. "So. What are you going to do?")

---

-Starlight was starting to feel slick in your hands. It was warm and familiar and somehow it burned, blisters on your palms, and a part of you wanted to call a different Keyblade entirely.

Kvasir parried another strike, and then slipped, your Keyblade nicking his forehead. You hesitated, briefly.

("If you stop—what's to stop him from continuing? He will break you down eventually, if you let him.")

You sucked in a breath, and you struck again.

---

-(I'm going to fight.)

---

-Skuld woke up on the ground. Her head was spinning, her chest aching. Distantly, she thought she heard someone talking—or shouting, maybe. It was hard to tell; everything felt like it was underwater.

She wobbled as she moved, groggily pushing herself onto her hands and knees. When she blinked, she thought she saw people across from her—familiar figures that, for half a moment, looked like ghosts from a different time.

Skuld took a steadying breath, blinking rapidly. Her armor felt heavy around her shoulders—a reminder of everything that was different, now.

(Is it all bad?)

Another blink, and she'd focused a little better; the ghosts of her lost friends shifted, changing to figures that were significantly more solid.

Starlight jammed into the ground, and she pushed herself slowly to her feet, eyes tracking Mimir. They still looked, in many ways, like her old friend—but she could see bits of them, too, of the first person she'd really managed to reach out to here, besides Brain.

(When she blinked, she could see them smiling at her softly, talking about their missing friends. How much they hoped they'd find them on day.)

Her throat tightened. She didn't know what she was supposed to think. But—

(She remembered meeting them at the fountain for the first time. She hadn't expected to form such a close friendship with them—but maybe that's what happened, when you both went to try and rescue a missing friend.)

Skuld took a breath and moved.

(It's all different now, some part of her whispered. It's like Daybreak Town, and Scala. They aren't the same, any more than the two of them are.

Another part of her answered, It is. But you can make something new from what's left behind.)

"Mimir!"

Kvasir glanced over their shoulder, and he brightened just a little. "You're alright!"

Mimir turned, too. The shadows clung to their shoulders like a cape, hanging over their head almost like a helmet—but she could still see the twist of their lips, the wild look in their eyes. They hesitated, but only for half a moment; their footsteps stuttered, and then they were shooting across the battlefield towards her, a raw, pained shout torn from their throat.

Skuld let her armor catch the Keyblade. She twisted her arm, catching the shaft in her hands.

Mimir shook a little. Their eyes turned, desperate, towards her. They tugged, like they were trying to free themself from her grip, but she held steady.

She met their eyes through her visor. She swallowed—and then, hesitantly, she dismissed her Keyblade.

Mimir's eyes flicked to the empty space where her weapon had been—and then back to her head, eyes widening as she removed her helmet.

She caught their eyes, holding them, and she almost thought she saw something breaking. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and she could hear her own voice wavering. "I'm sorry I didn't think about how scary this would be for you. I'm sorry that you got kidnapped, and that we dragged you into this mess, and just—I'm sorry."

"That's right—the two of you are the source of this, aren't you?" Darkness dripped over Mimir's shoulders, splattering against the ground, and something twisted in Mimir's expression.

Skuld wanted to shout at them, but she didn't; instead she kept Mimir's eyes, holding them steady. "I don't know how to fix this," she admitted. "I don't know how to make it better. I wish I did. But—your my friend. I love you, and—and I don't want to lose you."

Their expression twisted in grief—and then they spoke, voice raw and pained. "It'd be better," they whispered, "if you left me. I should've died a long time ago. Just let me go."

"Is that really what you want?"

"Would you leave if I said yes?"

She swallowed tightly, and when she looked at their eyes, she could see the friend she couldn't leave behind on the Keyblade War. "I don't want to," she whispered, "but…I don't want to force you to come back, either."

Darkness leaned closer, and for a moment, it was hard to see Mimir's face. "You will have to make her give up—force her hand. Is that not what you did the last time?"

Mimir's breath stuttered. They pulled away, Keyblade finally ripping free, and Skuld stumbled after them a little.

"It's not going to be the same," Skuld said, and could feel herself growing desperate. It felt like something was slipping through her fingers—like if she couldn't find the right words, she really would have no choice but to leave, or to… "I know it's not. It's going to be hard and confusing and—and maybe you won't be the same at the end of it. But the rest of us are going to be there to help—if you want us to be."

She heard Mimir's breath catch. Behind them, she could see Kvasir, holding still, like he didn't dare move, in case he spooked them.

"Don't you want to rest?" Darkness whispered. "Don't you want to make it stop hurting?"

"Stop messing with them," Kvasir said, lifting his voice for the first time. "Let them make their own choice."

There was an image, of Daybreak Town, and of Scala, and it felt like she'd touched on something raw as she whispered, "It might get better. It might not. I don't know—but you can't find out if you're not there."

"They will never stop," Darkness continued, insistent. "Not unless you make them."

Mimir hesitated for just a moment. Skuld thought she saw tears—heard something that sounded like a quiet rattling of breath—and then they'd moved, shooting towards her. Darkness trailed behind them, wrapping around their waist, their shoulders, their head.

Skuld braced herself.

Mimir's arm swung back. Shadows trailed from it—and then disappeared. Darkness pulled away with a pained hissed. Something like light flickered from inside them, and they shrunk back, leaving Mimir unprotected. "Dandelions," they said, but there was something almost amused in the voice, "always thinking they're so clever."

Skuld swallowed, but moved to meet Mimir. After a painfully long second of deliberation, she dismissed her armor.

"Skuld?" Kvasir shouted, alarmed.

Mimir faltered, just a little—and she could see how much they looked like them again, the friend she'd met on that first ill-fated mission slowly sliding back into place.

She slammed into Mimir—and then stumbled to a stop, arms wrapped around their waist.

Mimir faltered. She could feel the brush of a Keyblade against her back, like they'd started to lower it, but had hesitated at the last second. They didn't move; they stood there, frozen, like they couldn't quite process what was going on.

(Will it be as good as it was before?

Maybe. Maybe not. But you won't know if you don't give yourself the chance to find out.)

"Please come back," Skuld whispered. "Please. We can figure out the hard stuff later, when we're all safe and back at Meili's. Just—come back with us, okay?"

She heard their breath rattle—a long, shaky inhale that came out just as ragged, chest quivering with the effort. They didn't move, at first, and she hugged them tighter, head pressed against their shoulder.

Another shaking breath, and then another—and then they exhaled something like a sob. Starlight clattered to the ground and disappeared. Arms wrapped around her, squeezing tight, and the shaking got worse as they started crying, forehead lowered to press against her shoulder. "Skuld," they said, voice cracking, "I want to go home."

A complicated tangle of relieved grief twisted around her ribcage, but Skuld managed a wet smile through it, shaking legs nearly giving out from under her. "We're going," she breathed. "We're going."

Mimir nodded against her shoulder, fingers curling into her shirt.

A hand landed on her other shoulder—Kvasir, still bloody and bruised from the fight, one eye half-closed. Despite the injuries, he flashed her a relieved smile, and dragged them both into a tight hug. Mimir sobbed harder, and Skuld took a moment to just breathe. It's okay. It's going to be okay.

Over Mimir's shoulder, she caught a flicker of movement and tensed. She released Mimir with one hand, sparks flickering around her fingertips.

Darkness rose—a small, wispy thing that didn't look like much at all. They didn't seem interested in her at all; they floated towards Mimir, wreathing around their shoulders. "Do you wish to leave?"

A pause, and Skuld's heart stuttered at it—but then Mimir nodded, leaning into the two of them, head buried further against her shoulder.

"Alright." They pulled away, shadows melting into the ground, and the world started to fade, pulling carefully from beneath their feet.

"You're really letting them go?" Skuld asked, and she held them tighter, just in case Darkness decided to change their mind.

"The deal was that if you convinced them to leave, you could have them."

"I didn't think you'd honor it."

A low chuckle, rumbling underneath her feet. "We tried to convince them, and could not—so we will accept our loss. But understand: it is for their sake, not yours." The ground started to feel more solid under her feet; if she looked, she thought she could see the cracked cobblestones of the ruins. "Take care of our Little Light; we will be watching."

Skuld swallowed tightly. "Always."

---

-Brain's breath hissed through his teeth. The light had driven Darkness away for a moment, but it had only seemed to make them angrier, and they'd attacked with renewed vigor when it had faded. The barrier was still holding, but he'd started to see cracks patterning the glass-like surface, small vein-like fractures slowly expanding overhead. He gritted his teeth and braced himself, pressing a hand against Master's Defender's hilt. Darkness screeched and swirled overhead, battering against the barrier like a storm, again and again and again.

"Do you have a plan?" Sigurd called.

"Working on it."

Another crash against the barrier, and Brain braced himself, feet skidding backwards until his heel knocked Sigurd's. Expand the barrier; might give us time to run. Master's Defender specializes in light magic, so we could maybe keep Darkness off us for long enough to get to the door—

But the others are still trapped.

He was going to have to do something, or the barrier was going to collapse in on them, and then they wouldn't be able to do anything at all. Could maybe get us to someplace we can hide, then, and regroup. It'll be dangerous, but it's not like we have much of a choice.

Brain sucked in a breath, mentally preparing himself, and Sigurd tensed behind him—and then, just as suddenly, Darkness stilled.

It was an eerie sort of thing, the shadows frozen overhead like they'd been caught in ice. The sudden lack of sound made his ears ring. Brain watched, wary, still carefully bracing the barrier, and he heard Sigurd shift, like he was trying to get a better look.

Darkness pulled away; they melted to the ground slowly, but Brain didn't dare let his guard down, eyes narrowed. What are they doing?

"Do you know what's happening?" Sigurd asked, quiet.

"Probably getting ready for another—"

He broke off, breath stuttering—because the shadows were slowly slipping away from three humanoid figures, peeling sticky from skin and clothes and seeping into the ground below.

Brain didn't dare move—didn't dare lower the barrier, in case this was another trick—but he wanted to. "Skuld?" he asked, uncertain. "Kvasir?"

Skuld lifted her head, eyes cracking open. She met his eyes through the barrier; she looked tired, but she managed a smile, eyes wet with tears. A figure shifted in her arms—Mimir. "We got them."

Sigurd started, "Is that—" but Brain hardly heard; the barrier dropped, and he hurried to cross the distance.

Kvasir lifted his head, smiling shakily. "It—it took a little bit of convincing, but—"

He broke off with a startled noise as Brain crashed into them, wrapping his arms around them as best her could. Skuld laughed wetly; Mimir shifted a little, shaking.

"Um." He could almost feel Kvasir's confusion. "This is…new."

It dragged Brain back to himself a little, and he released them and backed away with an awkward cough. "Well—" he started, and then broke off, because he didn't really know what else to say.

"Not bad!" Kvasir hurried to say; he released Mimir and Skuld, waving his hands rapidly, expression shifting towards something worried. "I just…don't think I've ever seen you hug someone besides Skuld before."

Brain shrugged, but he could feel his face heating, and he looked away. "Just…relieved you're all okay." And then he glanced at Mimir, turning towards Skuld and raising an eyebrow. Are they okay?

Skuld's expression turned a little sadder. She glanced at them, adjusting her hug, and mouthed to Brain, Later.

Brain nodded. "Come on; we should get out, before Darkness decides to change their mind."

Sigurd was standing a short distance away when he turned; his head was tilted towards them, but he was fidgeting with his Keyblade, like he was looking for something to do. Brain almost felt bad about it—but then, he still couldn't really call Sigurd a friend, and the others didn't really know him.

"I…can lead," Sigurd said, startling him. "If you want to stay back with your friends."

Brain's throat tightened, but he nodded, letting Sigurd step ahead of them as he dropped back.

Kvasir's eyebrows furrowed; he looked worried, but he seemed reluctant to leave Mimir, by the worried look he shot their friend. Brain couldn't really blame him.

"You have Master's Defender."

Brain started; he'd almost forgotten he was still holding the weapon, but it hummed in his palm at its name.

He turned, and found Skuld looking at him with a bemused expression. "How…?" she asked, trailing off.

Brain glanced down at the weapon. Some complicated tangle of emotions twisted in his chest—grief and guilt and relief—so tangled that he couldn't pick them apart. In the end, it was easier to look away. "We needed it."

Skuld looked tired, and Brain guessed that was a conversation that was going to be continuing later—but she let it drop for now, and Brain couldn't help the flash of gratitude for it.

Their progress was slow, between unhealed injuries and exhaustion. None of them spoke much, the four of them pressed close together, Sigurd glancing back at them every once in a while. Eventually, though, they found their way back to a set of stairs. The chains near them glowed faintly, guiding them slowly upwards.

They found a door at the top—still solid and standing, not the cracked and broken thing they'd found in the abandoned city.

"I…suppose we went the wrong way," Kvasir said, slumping in exhaustion.

"It's still a way out," Sigurd insisted, hands running along the back of the door. "We just need to—" He lifted his Keyblade, pointing it at the door.

Nothing happened; no flash of light, no click. Sigurd tried the door anyways, struggling a little when it wouldn't budge.

Kvasir sighed. "We'll just…have to turn back and find the other one."

Skuld didn't move; she stared at the door, expression furrowed.

Brain nudged her lightly. "Something on your mind?"

She pursed her lips. After a few contemplative moments, she murmured, "Frigga showed me a door that could only be opened using Master's Defender. I thought that maybe the Book of Prophecies was hiding behind it. But…"

She trailed off, but the conversation felt familiar. "You said the ruins reminded you of it," Brain said quietly, glancing at the door.

Skuld made a hum of acknowledgement.

His eyes flicked back to the door. Cautiously, he lifted Master's Defender. Light flickered at the tip—and then there was a quiet click, the door swinging open. Brain…wasn't sure what to do with that, so he didn't do anything, quietly stepping past them and into the silent hallways. Skuld's eyes flickered with recognition, but she didn't say anything; she just trailed along, Mimir in tow, as they made their way slowly out of the Clock Tower.

---

-The walk back to her office felt long. Frigga wasn't entirely sure she wanted to go, but she felt like she had to, if only to make sure that everything was locked up correctly. Her hands still felt shaky, the absence of Master's Defender stinging starkly, and seeing her door left ajar didn't help.

Her office was dark. She made her way, carefully, to her desk, one shaking hand running along the top. Her fingers found the familiar drawer beneath; without Master's Defender, she shouldn't be able to open it, but it slipped out easily. She'd forgotten, almost, that she'd unlocked it, planning to use it if she needed to convince Meili to give her the information she needed.

It might've been a boon, now that she didn't have her Keyblade—but the drawer was empty.

She laughed, tired and bitter, and fell into her chair. "It really has been…quite the night, hasn't it."

---

-Sigurd saw them back to Meili's apartment, then left quietly. Brain owed him a "thank you"—probably more than that, if he was being honest—but he couldn't make himself call Sigurd back. He would…talk to him later, he supposed.

Meili wasn't at the apartment—but their partners were, Eric pacing and Bridget poring over papers of some sort. Both of them started to attention when the four of them entered, and they hardly had a moment to catch their breath before they'd crowded them, peppering them with questions none of them could even begin to answer, as exhausted as they were.

"Where's Meili?" Kvasir got out over the fussing.

"You weren't back by nightfall," Bridget answered. "They're out looking for you."

Brain huffed. "That worried about us, huh?" But his throat tightened, and he hoped, absently, that they weren't out too long.

---

-Mimir sat in the safety of Meili's apartment. They were exhausted, blinking tiredly, curled up in a blanket, but they couldn't quite get themself to fall asleep. Kvasir had finally drifted off, snoring quietly, sprawled against their shoulder. Skuld sat on their other side, still stubbornly awake, shooting glances at them every now and again, like she thought they might disappear at any moment. It made them think of Daybreak Town—of people very similar, but different in many ways—and it made their (your) heart ache.

Brain shot a look towards them from the table. He'd been doing that a lot—not quite willing to join them, but always double-checking, making sure they were still alright while he worked on a project of some sort. Mimir gave him a look that they wanted to seem grateful, but mostly felt tired.

The door nearly slammed open, and Mimir turned towards it. Meili was standing there, eyes wide—they searched the apartment only briefly before landing on them, and they managed a tiny smile and a wave.

Meili's shoulders sagged. They pulled up a chair, settling across from them, and rested a hand on their head, ruffling their hair. This close, Mimir could see how wet their eyes were. "Don't ever scare us like that again. Alright?"

Mimir's eyes were burning now, too, and they blinked the tears away and managed a smile that was still small, but a little more real. "Okay."

---

Summary of the fight: Skuld struggles to process the fact that Mimir and the Player are one and the same, dealing with a combination of grief and anger. Mimir/Player fights her and Kvasir, and the illusory version of Daybreak Town starts to break apart. Kvasir takes Skuld away to try and talk her down from a panic attack, then goes back to talk to Mimir/Player on his own.

Mimir/Player, meanwhile, struggle both with their own sense of identity and with guilt—for potentially taking "Mimir" away from the others, for dragging them into a dangerous fight, and for their actions in Daybreak Town. Despite Kvasir's please, Mimir/Player decides to fight to make the others leave. Skuld joins Kvasir, and the two fight against Mimir/Player. Skuld eventually nearly knocks out Mimir/Player, but hesitates as her anger cools; Mimir/Player panics and uses heart magic on her, giving the two of them to talk a little about what Mimir/Player is going through. Meanwhile, Mimir/Player sees their own visions, with something that's implied to be Chirithy talking them down.

Mimir/Player returns to Darkness's vision, and Kvasir apologizes for getting them into this mess, then encourages them to come back. Mimir/Player wants to, but between Darkness's influence and their own stress, they ignore the attempt and attack him instead.

Skuld sees visions of the manifestation of her personal darkness, Subject X, and Ephemer and the Player, each helping her slowly talk through some of her complicated feelings. When she wakes up, she focuses on trying to talk Mimir/Player down; Darkness interferes, but is eventually driven off by what's implied to be Brain's attack on their greater whole. Skuld hugs Mimir/Player and, when she asks them to come back, they agree. Darkness—weakened and accepting of Mimir/Player's decision—lets them go.

ALRIGHT. LAST EXTRA LONG CHAPTER FOR A WHILE. …Hopefully.