'The search for the black box reaches its end.'
Content Warning: If you may be triggered by topics related to suicide, go read the summary at the bottom of the chapter before getting into this. (I'm being a little vaguer about this just because this is a rare case where getting too in-depth WOULD include spoilers; the summary at the bottom will be for the entire chapter, so even if you feel like you wouldn't feel comfortable reading, you should still get the necessary information.)
Chapter Thirty-Four: The Keyblade Graveyard
"Is that everything?"
The question came tentatively, Skuld shifting the heavy backpack. A canister clinked as it moved, and she went to steady it; she wasn't particularly worried about losing water (Meili had made sure each of them had three large water bottles at minimum), but she thought that the leader of their group might be.
Meili was still examining Kvasir's pack, carefully rearranging a large blanket and food packs. "We can always come back if we need more," Kvasir offered tentatively.
"I'm aware. But I get the feeling at least one of you isn't going to be too happy about that." They gestured toward Brain, who was watching the proceedings out of the corner of his eye, fiddling with his bracelets.
Skuld winced, and shifted closer to him, both to hopefully alleviate some of the tension and to avoid the chaos that filled the Exploration Department. "It's loud," she whispered; in addition to some of other department members and their own crew, several members of the Historical Society had packed themselves into the room, just as Frigga had warned. Frigga herself stood in the center of it, looking distinctly out of place.
Brain hummed an acknowledgement. "Looks like you're not the only one trying to avoid the chaos," he murmured, nodding toward a shape across the room.
Mimir.
They weren't looking at anyone; they'd nearly curled in on themself, backpack hugged close to their chest.
Skuld's throat tightened. "It's…probably a lot for them."
"Probably a lot for you, too."
She could feel Brain watching her; she thought she should say something, or at the very least try to smile, but the thought of going back to the wastelands—the Keyblade Graveyard, she guessed—made her throat feel dry and her hands sweaty, so she didn't, tightening her fists until her fingernails pricked her palms. "We need to."
"Not all of us need to go."
"You're not going alone." She turned to glare at him, finally, and he met her eyes for only a moment before sighing, tugging his hat down a little. Some of Skuld's tension bled away, and she said, voice lighter, "You just want us to stay because you're impatient."
"Don't think we need this much," Brain grumbled, and Skuld snorted when she realized he really did look annoyed.
"I heard that," Meili shouted. "How many times have you had to rough it on an abandoned world?"
Brain flashed them a sharp grin.
"No—don't answer that." Meili lifted a hand, looking vaguely disgruntled. "I've done this more than you; trust me on this."
Brain shrugged, but Skuld could still see the tension through his shoulders, the way his expression crinkled.
"It's a fascinating experience," someone said. It took Skuld a moment to located the source—one of the members of the Historical Society, by the looks, their eyes bright and excited. "It's rare to have much beyond stories from the Age of Fairytales. Actual relics like this are incredible; it really makes you feel as if you're a part of history—"
"I know," Skuld interrupted, smile tight, and it seemed to dawn on the speaker, finally, who they were talking to.
They blanched, rubbing the back of their head, and turning away. "Right. I guess you would know, considering—well." Their embarrassment seemed to deepen, and Skuld thought she should reassure them, maybe, because she knew they hadn't done it on purpose, but it was hard, when she could still hear the echo of steel in her ears.
Brain's hand slipped into hers, squeezing slightly, and she gave his a grateful squeeze back.
"Alright," Meili said with a sigh, finally releasing Kvasir, "it looks like we've got everything." Their expression still looked grim, but they lifted their own pack, shouting above the noise, "Everyone who's on the Keyblade Graveyard mission, over here! We're leaving in five minutes; be ready or be left behind."
"I do hope," a familiar voice said, quiet, "that you find that box earlier than expected."
Frigga had made her way over to them; she was surveying the crowd, eyes pinched.
"Well," Brain said, "that's the plan."
"I will…try to find names while you're gone," Frigga continued. Her eyes flicked, briefly, in their direction. "No moves until you return," she promised. "I don't want to risk Darkness escaping. Which is why—"
"We know, Frigga," Brain interrupted, voice rising faintly in irritation. His expression twisted, and he gave an embarrassed sort of huff, turning aside.
"We'll…keep in touch," Skuld said. Her Spirit slipped out of the bag at her waste; it jumped onto Frigga's shoulder with a cheerful chirp, nuzzling against her cheek.
Frigga twisted her head away from it, looking like she wasn't sure how to feel. "I suppose that's…encouraging." Her eyes and voice softened a little. "Good luck."
Skuld nodded, throat strangely tight.
"Union Leaders!" Meili shouted. "Get your asses moving!"
"How are we getting left behind?" Brain muttered, but paused to glance toward Skuld a moment. "You ready?"
She wasn't sure if she was, but it wasn't like she had much of a choice. She nodded, giving him a tight smile, and tugged him toward the group.
Meili studied them, eyes flicking over their faces, their backpacks. They hummed after a moment, but it didn't sound entirely content. "Siv—you've got point. Get us there."
Siv glanced, very quickly, toward Skuld and Brain. She nodded, though, expression steeling a little, and with a flash, her Keyblade materialized. With a flick of her wrist she pointed it toward an empty spot in the room; the portal tore open, and through it, Skuld almost thought she could see the barren cliffs of the wastelands.
She gripped Brain's hand a little harder.
"Alright," Meili shouted, "move out!"
Skuld could, barely, hear the murmured farewells and good luck wishes from the Exploration Department, her ears ringing. And then they were moving, Skuld's legs moving on autopilot as they took her, with the rest of their group, toward the graveyard.
-Being back in the wastelands made Skuld's palms feel sticky and her skin prickle. She knew that the faint smell of blood on the wind was her imagination, but it still made her feel ill. They'd landed someplace without Keyblades—she hadn't even known those existed—but she could still see the traces of destruction, in the broken mountain peaks and jagged scars in the earth that hadn't healed.
She could feel Brain and Mimir at her shoulders, and she wasn't sure she wanted to look at either of them, so she looked at Meili instead. They looked grim, but not surprised; she guessed she'd probably been here before, and at least sort of knew what to expect. "Where…?" she started, and realized that was a question she should probably direct toward Brain, and so, finally, she twisted back to look at him.
As it turned out, he was watching her, face creased with concealed worry. He noticed her looking and glanced aside, tugging his hat down a little. His eyes swept the landscape, expression turning slightly more thoughtful. "It was in an open space," he said. "No Keyblades that I could see, except in the distance—stuck into a cliff." He glanced back at the members of the Historical Society. "Hey. That ring any bells?"
They were already spreading out, a couple murmuring together, too quiet for Skuld to make out the words, but one of them glanced up at Brain's shouted question. "Well—there are quite a few areas like that." They stepped up beside him, hesitating only a heartbeat before gesturing. "Most of the graves are at the epicenter of the action—in that direction." They pointed, and Skuld followed the line of their finger; she couldn't see the blades from here, but her chest tightened, anyways, her mouth going dry. "The further you get from that location, the fewer Keyblades there are. If I had to guess, it'd be somewhere around the edges—still close enough to see the Keyblades, but not close enough to have too many scattered about."
"So we…won't be going into the center." Skuld wasn't entirely sure if she was relieved or disappointed.
"Most likely not," the historian agreed, and they looked a little relieved.
"Alright." Brain gestured. "Someone want to lead the way, or should we head off on our own?"
The historian looked nervous again, stammering a little; Skuld wondered if they were hesitant to say anything because of their positions. This was history, to Scala—but for Brain and Skuld and even Mimir, it was their lived experience, and she could almost see the thought crossing the historian's face now.
Meili sighed, long and low. "I've got it," they said. "Come on. Not that I think you kids would do much, but it's probably easier to keep everyone together."
Brain made a noncommittal noise, but didn't protest, and followed willingly after Meili as they took the lead.
Skuld meant to follow, her feet starting in their direction—but after a moment she stopped, head still twisted back toward the cliffs. There was an ache in her bones, something deeply nostalgic and tinged with fear and grief. She tasted bitter adrenaline and something faintly metallic, and there were flashes of things she knew weren't there, but made her want to flinch away, anyways.
"Skuld?"
She knew the voice was Kvasir's, but for half a moment, she thought it was Ephemer. She took a breath, ignoring the way her eyes stung, and whispered, "I'm coming."
It still took her several moments to get her feet moving again—but when she did, she moved purposefully, like if she put enough distance between herself and the graveyard behind her, she could pretend everything hadn't happened.
She heard hurried footsteps, and after a moment, Kvasir appeared at her side. He didn't say anything, but he looked like he wanted to, mouth opening and closing, hands lifted like he wanted to comfort her and didn't dare.
She wasn't quite sure what sort of expression she was making, but she tried to gentle it, anyways. "Kvasir."
He winced, but that was apparently all the permission he needed to barrel forward, because he asked, "Is it strange being back here?" He looked sheepish, twisting his head away and rubbing the back of it. "You were here for it, I suppose, and you probably knew some of the people who were in it—"
"Kvasir."
Another wince. "Right. Sorry."
Skuld swallowed tightly. The wind and sand stung her cheeks; if she squinted, she thought she could imagine this was just any deserted place—another world that they had to explore to help the universe recover.
(There was someone at her shoulder and her legs ached from running and where was Ephemer he'd been right beside her just a minute ago—)
"Yeah," she said. "It's…weird." She let her voice trail off, searching for a way to explain, but it felt like she couldn't find one, the words slipping away just as soon as she'd tried to grasp them. So instead, she found herself asking, "Did you…learn about this? About—" She broke off, then gestured, words failing.
"The Keyblade Graveyard?" Kvasir looked thoughtful, then almost embarrassed again. "I came here as a student—my whole class did. We were supposed to be learning about the Keyblade War and Daybreak Town—what little history we really know, not just the stories. We were excited for the chance to finally go off-world—less excited when we actually got here."
Skuld cast him a glance.
"Ah—the historians kept yelling at us. 'Stay with the group.' 'Don't touch the Keyblades.' 'Don't steal any rocks they're sacred.'"
"They aren't sacred," a historian snapped, and from Kvasir's grin, Skuld got a feel the jab was intentional.
"But didn't you say this whole place was touched by magic?" Kvasir asked, spreading his arms with a grin. "Surely—"
"Not sacred," the historian repeated, "and I wasn't there. But this is a historical site. You have to be careful what you touch." They glanced toward Skuld, then away again, looking slightly uneasy.
Kvasir sobered. "Back then," he said, quiet, "I don't think any of us really understood the gravity of this place. We just told ghost stories to each other—like if the Keyblade wielders were still here, haunting us." He looked a little uncomfortable about it, eyes roving toward the cliffs.
"You didn't know," Skuld whispered, but the words tasted dry. "If all I knew about the Keyblade War was that it was some disaster that happened a long time ago…I don't know if I would've thought much about it, either."
She thought she caught a flicker of movement; when she turned, she caught sight of Mimir, slipping away from the group, nearly unnoticed.
Something in her chest tightened.
Kvasir followed her eyes. "What are they…?"
"I'll go get them." She didn't stop to see Kvasir's reaction—didn't stop to see if any of the others were watching—and hurried after her friend, tailing them almost single-mindedly.
She didn't realize why they'd stepped away from the group until she saw their destination—a small cluster of Keyblades, stuck in the sand.
Her footsteps slowed almost without her consent. It was almost a miracle the Keyblades were still standing; she would've thought between the wind and time, they would've fallen. They looked so weathered now, dull and rusted, shafts covered in dents and nicks. They didn't have their keychains, anymore; she didn't know where they'd gone to.
Staring at the blades made her throat tighten with grief; she came to a stop some distance behind Mimir, staring at the graves, and wasn't sure if she was grieving the lost wielders, or the fact that this was such a brutal reminder that she was far from home, or that sometimes it felt like all she had left of Daybreak Town were broken remnants.
Not everything, she reminded herself, and her eyes flicked to Mimir.
They looked lost; they reached a hesitant hand to touch a Keyblade, fingers flinching away from the metal at first. They reached out again, a little more sure, resting their fingertips against the hilt. "I don't have anything for them."
Skuld hadn't even thought of that, and it brought another wave of grief.
"I don't know who they were," Mimir continued at a near-whisper, and their lip wobbled, eyes brimming. "But I remember being here."
Skuld clenched her fists; it didn't stop their shaking.
"I remember—there was so much happening. It felt like I couldn't breathe. I just had to keep moving, and—and there was blood and magic and fighting everywhere. I remember what it felt like to—fight people. How scary it was. What it felt like to—to feel my blade cut through skin. To—" They trembled, eyes a little too wide.
That's what it was like. For all of us. People died long before the Keyblade War. We didn't even know what we were signing up for—we thought it'd be an adventure.
The sting of loss was different now, and she almost didn't hear Mimir whisper, "And I remember you. You and Ephemer."
She looked up at them, then, and she could see the confusion and grief on their face—the sting of memories they shouldn't have, of a life long lost. In their expression, she saw a ghost.
She turned away, but looking at the graves wasn't much better than looking at their face. "We came back for—you." She stumbled over the word, and out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Mimir flinch. "We couldn't leave you behind."
Mimir didn't say anything for several moments; they just stared and stared and stared, their eyes locked onto the graves of nameless Keyblade wielders. "You…really loved them. Me."
She wasn't really sure what to say to that. "Mimir, you—"
"I know. It's okay, if—but what if I can't be them?"
"You don't have to be." She forced herself to look at them again, even if they weren't looking at her. "There's—a lot has changed. Daybreak Town is gone. Ephemer is gone. And you—" She swallowed, turning back to the Keyblades. "…It wasn't always great."
Mimir gave a wet sort of laugh. "But it was yours."
It was. Skuld sucked in a breath, and released it slowly, ignoring the way her eyes stung. "It's gone," she whispered, "but there's—echoes of what we lost, I guess. In everything." She thought of Scala. Of Kvasir and his classmates, who were so separated from the idea of the Keyblade War that they were able to joke about it. It was relieving, in a bittersweet sort of way.
And you don't have to hold onto it, either. Letting go might hurt—but once you do, you're free. Free to explore what could happen, and what you could be.
"…We should do something for them."
Skuld glanced at Mimir; they still looked sad, but there was something thoughtful there, too. "Yeah," she agreed, and after a moment she summoned her Keyblade.
There wasn't much she could do—but all of the Union Leaders had shared a little of what they knew with each other.
("How'd you do that, Lauriam?"
"Well, you can grow flowers with a little bit of patience—but I had some help from magic this time."
"Really? Can you teach me?"
"Me too!"
"Alright—Ven, wait, I need to show you how to do the spell first—")
Skuld smiled, cheeks wet, as her Keyblade glowed. Little sprouts emerged from the ground, curling, small yellow flowers blooming at the ends.
Mimir watched, their expression softening a little.
The glow faded. Starlight disappeared with a flash, and Skuld stared at the flowers with a strange, bittersweet sort of grief. "It isn't much—but it's something."
Mimir nodded. For several long, long moments, the two of them just stood at the graves. If Skuld closed her eyes, she could imagine that her friends were there with her.
She supposed one of them was—and the others were probably wondering where they'd gotten off to.
"We should probably get back," she said. "Before the others come looking for us."
Mimir made a face, and she laughed as they signed, "Meili will probably yell at us."
Smiling mischievously, she signed back, "Only if they catch us."
They smiled, even if it didn't quite touch their eyes. Still, the two of them both hesitated for several moments more, staring at the graves; it wasn't until they heard people yelling their names that they hurried off, leaving the graves behind.
(I love you.)
(I miss you.)
(Goodbye.)
-We're moving too slow. Brain breathed out, long and slow, and shifted a little so that he could look at the rest of their party. Skuld and Mimir were close; they didn't speak much, both seemingly lost in their respective thoughts. Kvasir was engaging one of the historians in conversation. The others were spread out, some talking, some examining the landscape, some shooting him glances like he was the one setting the pace.
"Brain," Meili called back, "does any of this look familiar?"
Another breath, and his head swiveled to scan the terrain. More of the same—cliffs and barren rock and Keyblades. Everything looked so similar here that it took a frustratingly long time to pick apart where they were. "No," he said, finally, and he could hear how clipped his voice was. "Not open enough."
Meili frowned, like they could tell that he was frustrated, but he didn't want to focus on them. He turned away, hands shoved into his pockets, and set off at a brisk pace, eyes trailing over the cliffs. If it had just been me and Skuld, he thought, or even just me, we might've found it by now. We could use magic to cross the distances much quicker.
We should've never brought anyone else along.
"Brain," Meili shouted after him, "don't wander too far."
He made a noncommittal hum that he wasn't even sure Meili heard. He was itching to ignore them—to just take off and go—but tried to reign in his frustration and hung back.
We'll find it. Frigga's not going to do anything until we get back. We know when Aegir's group plans to move. There shouldn't be anything to worry about. It'll be fine.
(You were too late last time. Look what happened.)
"Brain—"
"What?" he snapped, glancing behind him, and then fought back a wince when he actually registered who was talking to him.
Skuld had caught up to him; she frowned at the reaction, eyes creasing in worry.
He cleared his throat, tugging his hat down. Relax. Snapping isn't going to make anyone move faster. Stay focused. "Sorry."
"It's bothering you, too. Being here."
It wasn't entirely right, but he'd prefer Skuld think that than pry into what was really going on. "Mm." Then, "Too?"
Skuld was quiet a moment, her eyes trailing out toward the wastelands. After a moment she turned back to him, a small, tired smile on her face. "It's just…a lot. That's all." She glanced back, and when Brain followed her gaze, he realized she was looking at Mimir. "The sooner why find the box, the better."
"Yeah," he said, and maybe it was a little too quick, but—
But once we find it, we don't have to worry about Darkness anymore. Scala won't fall apart like Daybreak Town did.
(I can finally make up for failing the first time.)
(It will never bring the Dandelions back.)
(What will you do once this is over, Little Light?)
"We could ditch the rest of them," Brain offered, and he tried to make it sound like a joke, even if it wasn't.
But Skuld laughed, and he wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed. "Meili would kill us."
"I think they're ready to kill us most of the time."
"Are you going to leave Mimir and Kvasir alone to come after us?"
He huffed a laugh he didn't entirely feel. "They'll walk off a cliff trying to find us."
"…Are you sure you're okay?"
He could feel Skuld staring at him, peering up at his expression. It made him feel strangely vulnerable, but he forced himself not to turn away. "I'll manage. Not like I have the same sort of connection you and Mimir have, right?" He nodded in their direction. "How are they doing?"
Skuld grimaced. "They're…managing, I think. But it's…a lot. Considering everything."
Brain hummed again, thoughtful.
"Hey!" Meili barked, and both of them jumped. "Union Leaders! Just because you two are legends doesn't mean you can wander off! Stay. With. The. Group."
Brain couldn't quite stuff down the flicker of irritation. "It's not like we can't take care of ourselves."
"I guess we have gotten into a lot of trouble, though," Skuld murmured sheepishly. "Sorry, Meili!" she shouted back.
Another slow breath. In, out. We're wasting too much time, he thought, eyes screwed shut as he, very slowly, counted to ten. We could find and fix this problem so much faster if—
Hang on.
When he blinked his eyes open, he realized he recognized the landscape. It wasn't entirely right—the Keyblade's eye had been at a different angle—but…
"Brain…?" Skuld asked.
"Just—hang on." He picked up his pace a little, ignoring Skuld's startled noise, and shifted to face the cliff side. Nothing, nothing—there! A cliff on the edge of an open space; if he looked at it right, he thought he could make out familiar shapes that matched the one from Luxu's Keyblade. "Found it," he said, and shot off without further explanation.
"Wait—Brain!"
"What did I just get done saying?"
Master's Defender came with a flick, and he hurtled down the cliff side, chains rattling as he swung haphazardly to the ground. His feet hit the earth so hard it made his knees buckle, but he'd shot off again before he'd entirely righted himself, and when he turned, he found himself looking at a very familiar landscape. "It's here!" he shouted, turning around in time to see Skuld scrambling down after him. "This is it!"
Skuld hurried after him, turning to look at the surrounding area with a slightly befuddled expression.
"Where would he hide it?" Brain whispered, and while he could feel the rush of adrenaline, there was something lighter, too; it felt like a pressure had lifted on his shoulders, because they were finally, finally close to finding something, maybe he was finally going to do something right, for once— "He was heading toward the cliffs. In there—buried, maybe?"
It could take ages to find, some part of him whispered.
"We should start digging," he said. "Skuld, can you—"
"Hold it!"
He nearly bit his tongue, clamping down on an angry comment so quickly it surprised him.
Kvasir, Mimir, and some of the historians were helping the others down; one of them, apparently, had overheard Brain's remark, because they fumbled to scramble down the rest of the cliff, nearly tripping over themself as they hurried toward the Union Leaders. "You can't just—just start digging! We need to set up an area. Work carefully. Make sure we aren't disturbing anything too much."
"Well," Brain said, and tried to ignore how brittle his voice sounded, "we're going to be disturbing some of it, anyway."
"I'm aware. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't be careful. This takes time."
(Time we don't have what if something happens we can't keep slowing down—)
He could feel the sharp edges of his grin, fixed to his face. He could feel, too, Skuld staring at him, like she was trying to pick apart what was wrong. "Well," he said, "what do you want to do, then?"
"Show us where you want to start. We'll check for anything potentially concerning, then mark off the area. You can begin work there—carefully."
Brain breathed in and out, slow and deep. It's fine. Frigga and the bluebloods aren't going to do anything yet. It's fine. "Alright," he said, ignoring the many, many eyes that were suddenly on him, "I guess I'll take us to the first spot."
-It'd been a long day. Some of it had been frustrating, as the historians had often argued over where to dig, and how to do it, and at one point, one got into a surprising shouting match with Brain, which Meili had broken up. Most of it had been boring and exhausting; there wasn't much to do but dig and dig and dig, and if there wasn't anything in one spot, to refill the hole and move to the next.
You weren't sure you understood why you had to fill the holes in. The wastelands were mostly destroyed, anyways, pockmarked by the aftermath of the Keyblade War. What were a few more scars going to do?
You took a deep breath, pulling your knees up to your chest. The others had already settled for the night; it'd gotten surprisingly cold, and you were sure most of the others were grateful about Meili's insistence on bringing tents and warm sleeping bags. You cupped a small Fire spell in your hand, ignoring your shivering, and sat in the dark, not quite ready to go to bed yet.
The ghost of who you used to be felt very present, here in the graveyard. Surrounded by the shadows of fallen wielders, your life as Mimir—your life growing up in Scala ad Caelum—felt very far away.
You swallowed tightly, and after a moment you stood, holding your fire carefully as you slipped away from the campsite. You knew Meili wanted everyone to stay close, but—well, you might not have the same status as the Union Leaders, but you did fight in the Keyblade War. Here, at least, you thought that gave you a little bit more authority than them.
You weren't entirely sure where you were going, but weren't surprised to find yourself drawn to the cliffs, either. The Keyblades jutted out from the sides, and you resisted the urge to touch them. (You still remembered how cold and lifeless they'd felt, when you'd touched them before; you weren't sure you wanted to feel it again.)
You'd thought you were the only one up. You didn't expect the sound of digging, and you tensed, half prepared to fight—you weren't sure. Heartless, maybe, or grave robbers, and the thought made you angrier than you expected, the rage boiling in your throat. You turned, half ready to call your Keyblade—but in the light cast from your flame, you could make out a familiar figure. Brain. He was waist deep in a hole; his hands looked almost red from the clay caked around them, and you marveled at the idea that maybe he'd started with them before shifting to the shovel he now held. Even in the dark, his eyes looked shadows; in the flicker of your light, there was something about him that seemed almost skeletal, like he was just another ghost.
"You're supposed to be back at camp," you said before you could think about it.
Brain didn't react—but then again, you guessed it was hard to miss your fire. "So are you," he pointed out, grunting as he shoveled more dirt out of the hole.
"The historians will be mad."
"Well, they can deal with it. Besides," another pile of dirt, "I don't plan on them knowing."
You studied him, watching as he worked almost doggedly, and after a moment's deliberation you returned to camp, grabbing a shovel of your own. Brain made a surprised noise when you hopped in to help him dig, but he didn't protest; in the darkness, you thought you caught a glimpse of a smile.
You worked side by side for what felt like ages. Your hands and back hurt, and a part of you wanted to rest, but most of you was simply grateful for the distraction. Not that it led much of anywhere in the end—the hole had gotten up to your shoulders by the time Brain called it off, reluctantly admitting that if you hadn't found anything by now, it probably wasn't here. You found yourself sitting on the edge of the hole next to him, staring at it instead of the Keyblades.
You were a little surprised that Brain didn't simply move on to the next area—it seemed like something he'd do, all things considered—but he had a contemplative expression on his face, eyes distant, like he wasn't really seeing anything. "Guess you couldn't sleep either, huh?"
Mutely, you shook your head.
"Guessing this place doesn't bring back the best memories." He leaned back on his elbows, head tilted toward the sky. "There are a lot more stars," he murmured, and it sounded strangely melancholy.
You looked up, and the night sky stared back at you, countless tiny spots brightening it. Out here, they seemed much clearer than they had in Scala ad Caelum.
(You could remember stargazing as Mimir. You remembered how much you loved to imagine what it would be like out there, when you were little. When you were still looking for a family you weren't going to find.)
"I don't know why I'm here."
The words slipped out, quiet, and it took a moment to realize you'd signed them, too. You'd done that so much more, as Mimir. You wondered if the memory would've eventually come back to you, even if Pan hadn't taught you. You weren't sure it would've been the same; some signs were similar, but others seemed to have changed, as the years went on. This was something distinctly Mimir's, and it made their throat tighten to think of it.
"Helping me dig a hole, presumably."
(Well. You guessed maybe that wasn't true. You'd found two of them.)
"I keep coming back," you whispered, ignoring Brain's attempted joke entirely. "I shouldn't have survived the Keyblade War. I shouldn't have come back after the fall of Daybreak Town. But—" You shook your head and blinked away the sting. "I'm not anyone important. I'm just…me." You looked, finally, at the fallen Keyblades, and could feel the way grief tightened your chest. "I didn't deserve it any more than they did."
Brain went very, very quiet, and you weren't sure if he was going to say anything; you weren't sure there was anything to say. But then: "Don't know if it matters if you 'deserve' it. You're here, right?" He took a breath, and released it in a heavy exhale, his next words surprisingly shaky: "A second chance."
"At life?" you asked, because that didn't feel fair, not when it seemed like no one else had gotten that. "Why…me?"
Another long paused; another vaguely strained answer. "Don't think I can answer that entirely. But part of it's just—well. People loved you." He laughed, but it was tired. "Pretty sure Skuld would track any of us down if we tried to put ourselves in danger."
"And Meili and Kvasir," you added, silent except for signing.
(Maybe they weren't the only ones you found.)
"I don't know…how I'm supposed to live with it," you continued, out loud so Brain could hear. "What am I supposed to do when…?"
(You were supposed to die a long time ago. You were supposed to stay asleep, so Mimir—or whoever Mimir would have been—could live their own life. You were supposed to fade out of memory, and your friends were supposed to live.)
"…Someone…told me once," Brain said, voice very carefully measured, "that there's no real trick to it. Eventually you just…have to learn to live with your ghosts." When you looked at him, his expression looked pinched, like he was fighting something he didn't want to say. After a moment he stood, brushing off his pants, and you realized that the conversation was over. "Anyway," he said, "we should probably get heading back. Don't want Meili to come after us, yeah?"
You studied him, then glanced away, further between the cliffs. You could still see the glint of Keyblades; you could feel something settling into your bones, quiet words weaving their way into your head, and you said, "In a minute," and stood.
"Suit yourself."
You flashed him a brief, grateful smile, and then you found yourself trailing away, into the darkness. It felt like it should be frightening—but then, you'd survived the primordial Darkness itself. There wasn't much that should be able to scare you anymore, especially under these starlit skies.
You walked, and walked, and walked, moving until your legs ached and you found yourself in a small opening. Keyblades stuck into the ground and the Cliffside. Some lay scattered through the dirt, half-buried. A few were in pieces, destroyed by the war or by time. The moonlight shown down, and for a moment, it felt like you were under the light of a different moon, staring up at it and having the slow, exhausting realization that you were going to die.
It hadn't been frightening. It'd just been. You'd been so tired—and then your friends had come, and you'd thought you'd only get to say goodbye.
Now, somehow, impossibly, you were here, far into the future, surrounded by fragments of a past barely remembered, and a present that didn't feel entirely yours.
Learn to live with your ghosts. You supposed it was a little more literal, in your case, but you thought you understood. You couldn't erase the past; you couldn't just take out the part of you that was, well, you, or the part that was Mimir, or pretend like one or the other had ever happened. It was all you, in a way, and you were going to have to find a way to move forward and accept that.
Starlight flickered into your hands. You stared at it, both foreign and familiar. You thought that maybe it belonged here, with its kin.
You gripped the Keyblade a little tighter, balancing it on the palm of your hand. You ran a thumb over the edge, then pressed your forehead against it. "Make it mine," you whispered, the echo of a conversation in a different place. You bowed your head, and stabbed Starlight into the ground.
For one silent moment, you mourned the world you lost, and the person you could've been. And then, silently, you tucked them here, between the graves of the others who hadn't made it.
"I'm sorry," you said, because you didn't know what else to say.
Maybe they'd be proud of you, if they knew you were going to keep going. Maybe they'd be angry. You'd never know; perhaps it was better that way.
(You looked up at the stars, and thought you could hear someone whispering I love you back.)
You pulled Starlight out of the ground, and startled when it dislodged something else—a keychain, glinting in the moonlight. When you thumbed the sand off it, you were surprised to find it looked undamaged, shiny and new. It looked a little like a sun, creeping over the horizon.
Your fingers curled around it. Carefully you clicked it into place on your Keyblade, taking off Starlight's old one, and with a faint glimmer, the Keyblade changed. The shaft got longer, more blade-like, the teeth faintly reminding you of the training blade you used to wield. An arc of sunlight crowned the hilt, which spun back in white limestone and waves. The shaft glimmered; when you twisted it, it flickered with the colors of daybreak, purple and pink and blue, the faint glimmer of stars reflecting back at you.
Something hummed in your chest—a song, carried by birds and the familiar sounds of home. You could taste something like cold fire, the whispers of New Dawn creating a quiet chorus.
You stood, carefully, and slid Starlight's charm into your pocket. You stood there, a moment more, holding your Keyblade tight—and then you smiled, tired and weary.
The ghost of you still sat heavy in Mimir's chest—but they thought that maybe they could manage it, given time. It might be hard and exhausting and confusing—but it wasn't like they hadn't done hard, exhausting, confusing things before.
You were Mimir, after all—and you thought maybe it was time to leave the ghosts behind, and return to the life you'd found for yourself.
-(Brain didn't get back to sleep. He sat with his legs folded to his chest, staring out across the Keyblade Graveyard, and tried not to think about his conversation with Mimir or the specters of missing friends or of the way it felt like something was trying to eat through his chest.)
-For all the Keyblade Graveyard was cold during the night, it was hot during the day, and Brain would've found himself coated in sweat if he hadn't cast Blizzard spell after Blizzard spell to try and keep all of them cool. The ice arched over them, melting water dripping onto the back of his neck. He squinted beyond it; the sun hung roughly in the center of the sky, and he wasn't sure if he was anxious for it to start sinking below the horizon or not.
Three days. They'd been looking for three days, so far. Three days of hard labor and frustrating arguments and more logistics than he really thought were reasonable, and so far, there was nothing to show for it.
(Three nights of searching through the shadows on his own, scoring over the cliffs and trying to figure out where Luxu might've hidden the damn thing, wondering whether it was even really here or if Luxu had just led him astray, digging with his bare hands when he didn't dare bring supplies and then trying to clean them so nobody knew.)
Brain blinked, wobbling a little. He wasn't sure if it was the heat or the exhaustion; his chest felt heavy, his arms like rubber.
Something leaned against his side—or rather, someone. "Maybe you should take a break," Skuld said.
"I'm fine."
She gave him a deadpan look, then poked his forehead. He stumbled a little and caught himself, trying not to feel embarrassed. "We're taking a break," she decided, dragging him away from the work site.
"'We'?"
"Meili!" Skuld shouted. "I'm making Brain take a break!"
"Good!" they shouted back.
"Hey."
"Drink something!" they added at their retreating backs. "I don't need either of you passing out."
"I'm fine, Skuld," Brain tried to protest, jolting a little when she shoved a water bottle into his hands.
"You've been working all day," she argued, sitting down beside him. "You needed a break, anyways."
He didn't; they didn't have time for a break, the longer they spent here, the more could go wrong—
Skuld grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "We'll find it," she murmured, giving him a tiny smile.
Brain made an effort to smile back; he wasn't sure he succeeded. "Right."
For a moment, they watched the rest of the crew in silence. Brain could see the marks of where they'd already looked—spots of disturbed earth, pocketing the landscape. The historians paced around the area or helped dig. Kvasir had apparently given up at some point, too, splayed underneath an icy overhang. Mimir was still going, but they rubbed their forehead, looking exhausted. Meili was beside them, but they still stopped to survey the crew, barking orders at anyone who seemed like they'd been working too long.
"Makes me wonder if I even saw things right at all," Brain muttered, bracing his chin on his palm.
"It's a big area."
"Would've thought we still would've found something by now."
"It's just one box."
She had a point; it didn't mean it wasn't frustrating. "It'd help if I'd seen where Luxu put it, exactly."
Skuld glanced at him curiously.
Brain gestured broadly. "I didn't exactly see him hiding it—just the direction he was heading in." He nodded toward the cliffs.
Skuld followed his eyes with a frown. "Maybe—you knew him better than I did. What kinds of places would he hide something?"
Brain huffed a laugh. "That isn't saying much, considering the first time I met him was when Daybreak Town was falling." He shook his head, frustrated. "Already scouted out the most hidden places I could find. Places that had unusual landmarks. Places that seemed unlikely. But for all I know, he just hid it at random—no real way to find it without hoping. It'd be the easiest way to keep it away from people—it'd just make it difficult to find again." Unless he didn't plan on finding it again—but then, why give Frigga the hint at all?
He supposed he wasn't going to get much of an answer; Luxu had made it clear he wasn't helping Brain with this any more than he already had.
"Not there!"
Brain lifted his head, vaguely exasperated to notice that one of the historians was warning off one of their crew, again. Kvasir this time, it looked like, who had apparently decided his break was over and was sheepishly trying to calm the historian down.
"I guess at least it's out here," Skuld murmured with a wince. "The historians probably wouldn't let us do much if it was anywhere else."
"Yeah—"
Wait.
…The historians wouldn't let anyone dig anywhere that was 'historically significant.' Maybe Luxu couldn't have predicted that when he hid the box—but then, he'd been around a long time. He could've easily set things up to protect the area where he'd hidden the box. And if he wanted to reduce the chance of people finding it…
"You have an idea."
Brain hummed an acknowledgement. "How do you feel about actually ditching the group?" He nodded at the historians. "Specifically, them."
Skuld followed his eyes, then shot him a look.
"Might not find anything—but I have an idea." He glanced toward the cliffs, eyes narrowed as he stared into the shadows. "Just have to see where that leads."
Skuld hesitated for half a moment, but then her expression steeled. She nodded, then asked, "How are we…?"
Brain grinned. Master's Defender came to his hand with a flick of his wrist (there were whispers, the voices of ghosts hissing through his ears), and with a quick tug he'd turned them both invisible, if only briefly.
Meili, unsurprisingly, noticed, if them running their hand over their face was anything to go by.
Well. That was alright. The spell should last long enough for them to slip away—and, hopefully, they wouldn't be gone for very long.
Silently, Brain took off toward the cliffs. He wasn't entirely sure if Skuld was following, but he thought he could hear the steady tap-tap-tap of her footsteps. He slipped between the rocks and into the safety of the shadows, darting across sandy earth and stone.
He wasn't entirely sure what path Luxu would've taken—he'd explored the cliffs enough to know that the pathways were almost labyrinthine—and so he stuck to the largest pathways, pausing only now and then to determine which way to turn. The rocks rose around him, caging him in and making it difficult to see.
(The whispers hissed louder, even if they still didn't sound like distinct words. He thought he could see flashes of things—the imprint of footsteps, treading over the same ground, the brush of hands against cool metal, the sting of grief and regret. He thought he could see a wraith ahead of him, trailing through the same pathways, and turned his feet almost instinctively to follow him.)
There weren't many Keyblades at first—some scattered here and there, jammed into the cliff or lying in the dirt, broken bits scattered like markers along the pathways. It changed almost abruptly, shifting from blank walls to weapon-studded rocks. The effects of magic had worn away, now, but the scars had remained, jagged bits torn out of the stone, parts of the landscape permanently altered into sheer cliffs and deep craters.
(This pathway felt…familiar. The shape ahead of him started to form into something he thought he could recognize.
The whispers were getting louder, urging him forward.)
"Brain," Skuld said, but he could hardly hear it over the roaring in his ears, because there was an opening up ahead—
(Ah. That's right. He'd been Master's Defender's first wielder—why wouldn't his ghost be here, too?)
He stepped through the ghost of his past and burst into sunlight—and there, stretching out in front of him, was a familiar road, surrounded by rows and rows of Keyblades.
-The last time Skuld had been here, she'd been meeting the other Union Leaders for the first time. The echoes of those first conversations played in her ears, the ghosts of her friends brushing past her.
She wondered if Brain could see it, too; she wondered if that's why he'd gone so still, when he'd been so anxious to keep going before.
A hitched breath; a shaky resettled of the legs. And then Brain was moving again, striding purposefully toward the center of the destruction. Toward the cross roads.
Where they'd met.
It took a heartbeat for Skuld to convince her legs to move. She wanted to say something, but she couldn't find the words for it, and so she stayed silent, staring at the Keyblades rising up around her. It was eerie, how quiet it was out here; the only thing she could hear was the hollow moan of metal as the wind blew between the blades.
Brain was just as quiet; he moved almost like he was a ghost himself, and if his spell hadn't worn off, she would've never been able to track him. His eyes seemed fixed on the center, and Skuld swallowed, because of course. Of course, if it was going to be anywhere significant, it'd be there.
Brain stopped, standing at the center, and Skuld stopped beside him. If she looked, she thought she could see familiar figures coming toward them from the sand—but she blinked, and the image was gone. "We didn't bring anything to dig with," she said, her voice hushed, like if she lifted it too much, she'd disturb the ghosts.
Brain flicked Master's Defender.
It took a moment for her to realize what he was going to do. "Brain—"
She was interrupted by an explosion of sand and earth. Starlight came to her hand almost on instinct, a barrier thrown up around her. Loose earth cascaded over the shield, coating her vision in shades of red and brown.
She couldn't see Brain, in the midst of it; when the dust settled, she realized he hadn't moved, earth scattered loosely over his shoulders.
"What sort of spell was that?" she asked, voice shaky despite herself. "That could've done a lot of—"
"It's here."
Her voice stuttered to a halt.
There was something in Brain's voice that she couldn't place—something so openly, achingly relieved that it was hard to believe the words belonged to him. Something desperate. Something broken.
He jolted into motion from unnatural stillness so quickly she struggled to keep up, jumping into the hole he'd made, and Skuld scrambled to follow.
One corner of a black shape poked itself out of the dirt.
Brain was already down there, working to get rid of the rest of the dirt, and maybe she wasn't certain what was going through her friend's right now, but Skuld did know, at least, that this was probably what they were looking for, and they could hopefully sort the rest of this out…later. And so she jumped down beside him, scrabbling at the earth with her hands and Keyblade to try and free the box.
It took longer, without the proper tools. Her fingernails scraped painfully against stone and earth; using Starlight as a makeshift shovel felt wrong, almost, but she didn't know what else she was supposed to do. Maybe Brain had the same misgivings, because he'd switched Master's Defender for his own Starlight, too.
(His hands were shaking, when she stopped to look.)
The sound of their digging sounded too loud. It felt a little like they were being watched, the sun one giant eye, blazing overhead, and she wasn't entirely sure the sweat running down her back was from the heat.
But gradually, despite the obstacles, they made headway. The dirt fell away, slowly revealing silver-studded sides, red accents, strange symbols patterned along a black surface. Before it'd been entirely freed Brain had grabbed onto the handles on the edge, and Skuld moved to help him, her feet skidding in the dirt as they pulled. It shifted, little by little, until at last it fell free, landing in the dirt with a thud. Skuld stumbled, releasing the handle with a start. Brain shot a hand forward to try and steady the box.
The dust settled slowly. The world fell to silence. Skuld stared at the box, and wasn't quite sure what the prickling feeling was, crawling up her spine.
She should be relieved. This was going to help them trap Darkness. But all she could feel was a strange sort of foreboding—a wrongness, crawling up her throat.
Brain broke the silence with a relieved, frantic sort of laugh, head pressed against the top of the box. "We found it," he breathed. "We found it."
"Yeah," she said, and she heard how uncertain she sounded.
Brain must've heard it, because he turned to give her a curious look. There was a crooked smile on his face, and that made her uncertain, too, in ways she couldn't place. "Everything alright?"
"I just—how is a box supposed to trap Darkness?" It wasn't entirely the question she wanted to ask, but she scrambled to figure out a way to put to words the strange feeling she got from staring at it. "What does it do?"
(If she looked close, she thought she could see shadows leaking from the edges, and hear the hum of static.)
Brain turned to the box with a thoughtful hum. "Suppose that's a good point. We should probably know what it does before trying to trap Darkness."
It took a moment too long for Skuld to realize what he was going to do. "Brain, wait—"
A flash. Master's Defender returned to Brain's hand, and the box opened with a click. She had a split second to wonder at the confused expression that crossed his face before the lid flicked open, and Skuld flinched away, ready to summon Starlight and defend herself—
There were ghosts standing at her side. It took a moment to realize she knew them—the other Union Leaders, Ephemer and Ven and Lauriam, and her throat tightened as she looked at them. "What's—"
Her foot slipped backward, and she realized the ground underneath her feet was cobblestone, not dirt and sand. There were familiar purple rooftops, even if the sky was tinged with gray. In the distance, she could see the Clock Tower, and her chest ached with homesickness.
"Daybreak Town…?"
Brain had frozen beside her; it took a second too long to realize that he wasn't a ghost, too, but her friend, actually, physically there, one hand still gripping the edge of the box. His eyes had gone very, very wide; he was still, beside the slight tremoring of his hands.
Uneasy, Skuld turned back to Daybreak Town, and she might've believed, if Brain wasn't here, that opening the box had placed her in some sort of dreamscape. There were people here she hadn't seen since before the Keyblade War—people who'd been part of the Dandelions, and she hadn't gotten to find before Daybreak Town had fallen. The specters walked through the streets, talking to each other, playing games, shopping—but they flickered like holograms, buzzing with static.
Her throat tightened, and she turned to look at the rest of Daybreak Town. Most of it looked normal, but—
There. Part of the street glitched, flickering white. She could still hear the steady hum of static. If she looked past the specters, she thought she could make out the faint outline of sleeping bodies, the faint shift of strange animals behind them, shadows she couldn't place.
Her breath caught. Her legs wobbled. There's no way. There's no way. I thought this—it's still here? After all this time?
But does that mean—
There were shadows, surrounding the Clock Tower. They hemmed the spires like clouds, swirling around and around and around, and it made Skuld's heart beat faster, her skin prickling. "Brain."
He didn't answer; he just stared and stared and stared, like he was caught in some sort of spell.
"Brain. We need to close the box."
The shadows were spinning faster; it almost looked like they were searching for something. If she hadn't dealt with Darkness before, she might've thought she was imagining things.
"Brain. We've seen what's in it. Close the box."
Brain's mouth moved like he was going to say something, but all that came out was a quiet noise little more than a breath. His hand tightened on the edge of the box as he turned, slowly, to take in the rest of the town.
Overhead, the shadows seemed to be shifting their attention.
"Brain!"
He snapped to attention, finally, head jerking skyward. He slammed the lid of the box down almost reflexively—
And then Skuld was blinking in too-bright sunlight, unsteady on her feet.
Brain hunched over the box; he had both hands braced on the sides, like he was using it to hold himself up. Skuld…wasn't sure she could blame him.
…That's where…
The reality of it hit Skuld, all at once, and nearly sent her to her knees.
(She could still feel the ghosts of her friends, staring at her back.)
-It wasn't possible.
It wasn't possible—and yet, here it was, staring Brain in the face. A place he thought they'd lost—people he'd thought they'd lost, still here and present and alive.
It was such an overwhelming idea it made it hard to breathe.
"It has the data Daybreak Town."
"Brain—"
"It has the data Daybreak Town. The Dandelions aren't dead." The thought made him almost dizzy. "Skuld—"
"That's where we have to trap Darkness."
The words came to a stuttered halt.
Skuld stared at the box, pale, expressionless in the way someone is when they're trying very, very hard not to show what they're feeling. She turned, slowly, towards him, and at first, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. Perhaps Skuld wasn't, either, because she didn't say anything—just stared.
"…No." It took a moment for Brain to register that he'd spoken. When he did, he found his tongue running as fast as his mind, searching for a solution. "We don't have to use it right away. We could work on it—figure out how it works, if there's a way to wake the Dandelions up—"
(Luxu said that once the world went to sleep, it couldn't be woken up again.)
"We're on the outside, now. There might be something in the programming—all we need to do is stall—"
"The festival's in two weeks."
Brain fell silent, jaw still working as he tried to find the words to argue. "We've…worked on a time crunch before. And we know Aegir's plans; if we can stop them before they start—" He stumbled, working over the idea, because he didn't know how the data Daybreak Town worked, but—
I can't fail the Dandelions a second time.
(You didn't succeed before. What makes you think you can succeed now?)
"I just…need some time."
He could see something breaking through on Skuld's face—something raw, like hope she knew she shouldn't have, but wanted to. Like she wanted to believe they could save the Dandelions, too. Like she wanted to believe in him. "…Maybe."
(Look at her. She knows as well as you do that you failed before. What makes this time any different?)
"But—" Skuld broke off, looking like she didn't want to pose the question, but took a breath and barreled on anyways. "Brain. What if we can't?"
"We can."
"Brain, if the plan fails, and Darkness comes back—we can't let another world fall because of that."
"We were responsible for the Dandelions."
"I know." Skuld's voice cracked, and she scrubbed a hand through her hair, breathing out one long, shaky breath. "I know," she repeated, quiet, "but I don't know what else we're supposed to do."
Brain's throat tightened. He glanced behind her, toward the black box—their salvation, maybe. Darkness's prison, like it was meant to be.
The Dandelions' prison.
"We'll…figure it out," he said, finally, and he wasn't even sure he believed himself.
Skuld gave him a tired, helpless look, but she didn't argue; her shoulders slumped, like she'd been drained of all the energy she had. How different it seemed, from when they'd first found the box. "…Okay."
-(Meili took one look at the two of them when they got back, dragging the box behind them, and any scolding they could've come up with seemed to die.
The historians had many more. Kvasir and Mimir had questions. Brain couldn't hear them, over the sound of the ringing in his ears and the crawling, gnawing thing in his stomach.)
-Meili's apartment was dark. Most of the others had gone to sleep by now. Meili's partners had retreated to their bed, though Meili themself had tried to stay up, falling asleep sitting in a chair. Kvasir was sprawled across the couch, snoring quietly. Mimir had curled into a ball on some blankets underneath, additional blankets tucked over the top of them. Skuld had fallen asleep against Brain's shoulder, initially, but he'd moved her carefully, slipping away to poke and prod at the box and see if he could figure out something.
It meant that he was the only one awake now, eyes and chest heavy, fingers shaking and numb from nerves. Come on. There has to be—something. Something we can use. Some way to get them out—
His hand slammed the edge of the box, and he hissed quietly, spinning to his feet and shaking it out. Everything was shaking, now, tremoring so hard that it made the room look blurry. He paced, turning tight circuits, and he ran one quivering hand over his face as he tried to settle his racing thoughts. This is a second chance. This is what I was looking for. I have a second chance to save them, like I was supposed to. If we trap Darkness in the box with the Dandelions still inside—it's worse than if I failed. It's a choice to sacrifice them.
He tasted bile. A deep breath, another circuit.
But if we don't—we don't have a way to defeat Darkness, otherwise. We saw what happened to Daybreak Town. If we don't trap Darkness, Scala ad Caelum will meet the same fate.
Another circuit.
There has to be a way. There was to be a way to get them out—
Luxu said that there wasn't a way to wake them up.
Maybe he was lying.
Why?
The half-conversation felt frazzled, and he shook his hands out, nearly knocking into the box again as he turned.
There has to be some—some secret. Something he didn't say. I could ask him—
But why wouldn't he have said it, back when Daybreak Town was falling?
Spin. Breath. Try to keep the room in focus.
I can figure it out. I just need time—
That you don't have.
He stopped, finally. The room still looked blurry; his chest felt too tight, his throat clogged, and when he tried to breathe, it came out ragged. His legs didn't feel strong enough to support him anymore, and he wobbled and nearly fell onto the box, leaning over himself.
I've never been able to save anyone. Not really. Of course this would be how it works. Of course we can only choose one or the other. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and tried very, very hard to ignore the fact that his hand came away wet. You're supposed to be smart, aren't you? Think. There has to be some way out of this. We've fought Darkness before. We know their tricks. We—
We defeated Darkness, once, didn't we?
Brain blinked, and behind his eyelids, he saw the other Union Leaders. He saw Ven, standing in front of the shadows, tearfully promising that everything would be okay. He saw him claiming that he would give Darkness a form that they could defeat. He saw Ven challenging Darkness—
And he saw the aftermath, Ven silent and limp, and Darkness gone.
There was a strange, hollow feeling in his chest where grief should be—a sort of tired, cold resignation, an understanding he'd long had slowly growing. There is…one way to defeat Darkness without sacrificing either the Dandelions or Scala ad Caelum. Only one person needs to die.
…He…was supposed to have saved them, before. He failed—he failed, he failed, he failed, and now he had the chance to do it right this time—
(Don't you owe it to them?)
I didn't…deserve to survive, anyways. He stifled a bitter laugh, rubbing a hand across his face. And I've never been as clever as I thought I was. Plans never seem to work out like they should.
Well. Guess this doesn't require any special skills.
His fingers traced an invisible scar on his chest, where a Keyblade once was. He looked at Skuld—still asleep, blessedly unaware of the plan slowly taking shape in his mind.
He would…need to prepare. They had until the festival, and…he wanted to make sure that the others wouldn't grieve too much. Skuld would be upset, probably—but once Darkness was gone, maybe she could make something more of her life here. Maybe it'd be better without him, too, to chain her to the past. And the others—they might not be happy about the situation, but they didn't know him as well. They'd be okay.
I need…to defeat Darkness at any cost to me. Otherwise, what was this second chance for?
He wrenched his gaze away, blinking rapidly and clenching his fists so hard he thought they'd bleed.
…I'm sorry.
Chapter summary: Skuld, Brain, Kvasir, Mimir, Meili, and some members of the Historical Society set off to the Keyblade Graveyard to try and collect the black box. Frigga sees them off, promising not to make any moves against Aegir's group until they're safely back with the box, since that way, they have a solid way to trap Darkness should anything happen.
Skuld and Mimir both have difficult feelings about being back in the Graveyard. Skuld and Kvasir have a brief conversation about it, where Kvasir explains that he and his classmates visited the Graveyard before, but didn't take it very seriously. Mimir slips off, and Skuld offers to go after them. She catches up to them at a group of Keyblades (owners unknown), and Mimir comments that they remember being here, in the Keyblade War, and of Skuld and Ephemer coming back for them. Skuld asserts that she couldn't leave them, and Mimir asks what happens if they can't be the friend Skuld once knew. She asserts that they don't have to be; she comments that a lot's changed, and that it wasn't always great, with Mimir noting that it was still hers. Skuld thinks about it a bit, and thinks of the good things that came out of the tragedy. Mimir suggests doing something for the fallen Keyblade wielders, and Skuld uses a spell she learned from Lauriam to make flowers grow at the graves.
Brain, meanwhile, is impatient. He wants to move faster, but feels held back by the group. He checks in briefly with Skuld to make sure she's alright before he realizes he recognizes where they are. He heads off, and finds the area he saw in the vision from Luxu's Keyblade. Under the directions of the Historical Society, the group gets to work.
That night, Mimir is unable to sleep, too haunted by memories of the Player. They find Brain awake, too, trying to keep working, and help him. Mimir comments that they don't know why they keep coming back (meaning, why they keep surviving), since they didn't deserve it more than anyone else. Brain admits he can't answer entirely, but part of it was just because people loved them. They comment that they don't know how to live with it, and Brain gives them advice he got from someone else: they just have to learn how to live with their ghosts. He seems uncomfortable with the conversation, though, and hurries back to camp, while Mimir decides to go further into the Graveyard. What Brain said sticks with them; they might have to LITERALLY learn how to live with a ghost, but they also want to keep moving forward. They end up finding a keychain in the dirt, and this changes the form of their Keyblade, granting them the ability to wield New Dawn.
Three days pass with little success. Brain eventually comes to the realization that, if Luxu REALLY wanted to make it difficult for anyone to find the box, he'd hide it somewhere it'd be difficult for people to look—somewhere protected by the Historical Society, who have carefully policed every location they've had to dig at. He and Skuld slip off, eventually ending up at the cross roads. Between a spell and some legwork, the two of them find the black box at the center. Skuld feels uneasy about it, and asks what it's supposed to do. Brain opens the box to find out, and the two of them discover that the data Daybreak Town's inside. Brain is almost desperately relieved, until Skuld points out, horrified, that they still have to trap Darkness in there—even if it means sacrificing the Dandelions.
Back in Meili's apartment, Brain messes with the black box and tries to figure out a solution where they don't have to sacrifice the Dandelions. Eventually, he thinks of Ven's sacrifice, and decides that the best way to do that is to use HIMSELF as a vessel to trap Darkness, with the implication that he expects someone to kill him to get rid of Darkness.
I ended up going with a pretty popular theory for what's in the black box. It makes a lot of sense for data Daybreak Town to be there, and ended up working pretty well for the story overall.
Also, uh. Themes of planning a suicide, essentially, are going to be pretty prominent going forward. I'll still be giving trigger warnings, but just as a head's up.