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.)

41. Fallen Stars

'One last journey to bring a friend home.'

---

Chapter Forty-One: Fallen Stars

"Keep the course steady!"

"Trim those sails!"

"Keybearers, we could use a hand over here!"

"Steer clear of the islands!" Meili shouted over the noise on deck. "We don't need to run into any more Heartless. Head toward the open ocean; we can get a portal open there."

"Got it!"

Meili inclined their head a little at the acknowledgement, but their eyes were still turned toward the main island. It was just a distant speck on the horizon now; they couldn't hope to see what was happening there, no matter how hard they strained.

A sea breeze brushed against their cheeks, bringing with it fresh air, the taint of smoke drifting away on the wind. Clouds still hung heavy overhead, but a couple shafts of sunlight had started to reluctantly poke holes through them. The waves were still choppy, but they could hear the call of seagulls, starting up reluctantly.

The swirling energy in the sky had disappeared, and the unnatural darkness had faded with it.

Someone moved at their side. A sideways glance told them it was Frigga, standing at their shoulder; one of the medics had given her a makeshift crutch, haphazardly crafted out of driftwood, and she leaned against it as she followed Meili's gaze, staring at that same tiny spit of land in the distance.

Meili rolled their shoulders and looked away. "What's the plan?"

Frigga didn't say anything for a few moments. Meili could hear her shifting, the crutch creaking with the boat. A slow breath, stuttering. "The storm's fading."

"Yeah." They scanned the waves; they couldn't see any shapes moving toward them. "Are you thinking of heading back?"

"I wouldn't imagine it'd be safe."

It wouldn't be. The storm was fading, but that didn't mean that the Heartless were gone. And even if, by some miracle, everything had been cleared out, the main island was still in shambles. Many of the buildings wouldn't be safe to inhabit right away; the streets were broken, and parts might be unstable. But—

But.

"Meili," Frigga said, quiet, "you have seen a world fall before."

There was an unspoken question there, and Meili found themself strangely reluctant to answer it. "We need to find somewhere safe to stay," they said, the pragmatic part of them reluctantly taking over. "Check everyone over. Get medical stations set up. Start figuring out the food and water situation. Once we're stable there, we can send scouts back here to look at the state of the main island. I have a lot of the Exploration Department here; they know the protocols." Check for Heartless. Figure out the current state of their home.

Look for survivors.

Frigga hummed an acknowledgement. "Off-world, then."

"We could send a couple people out to check some of the islands," Meili responded, but they knew before they said it that it was a futile hope. "But yeah. That's probably going to be the best idea."

"Do you have recommendations?"

Off the top of their head, they could think of a few. "I'll need a map—or someplace where I can try and figure out one. I'll probably want a few members of the Exploration Department in with us to give their input."

Frigga nodded, but she didn't move; she was still watching the sea, just as intently as Meili was. They wondered what she was thinking; they could probably hazard a guess, because it was likely along the same lines they were.

"They'll be alright," Frigga said after a moment. "They are Union Leaders."

"They're kids."

"And they've survived the end of the world before."

"Yeah, and that's not going to do a whole lot of good if they don't know where we've gone." There was a prickling along their spine and a hammering against their ribcage; they looked at the space where the storm had been, and they wondered, What happened? What did all of you do?

"But they aren't the only ones we have to look after."

Meili knew that. They knew that. But—

They breathed out a frustrated breath, and could only bring themself to close their eyes for a moment. "It's not going to stop me from doing my job. I know what we've got to do, and I'll help us do it."

They didn't look at Frigga, but when she spoke, she sounded sympathetic. "When you're ready—we will be in the captain's cabin."

"Right."

Frigga paused for a moment, and they wondered if she was worried, too—if she wondered whether the Union Leaders had really managed to beat back that thing, or if they had fallen against it. She turned, though, and headed away, slowly maneuvering through the crowd.

Meili folded their arms and took a steadying breath. The waves still rocked the ship, and sailors were still shouting orders to keep them on course—but the others were starting to fall quiet. Shock, maybe—or maybe they had realized the same thing that Meili and Frigga had.

The storm was lifting.

Meili stood still, cold air stinging their cheeks, and watched the waves like if they just looked hard enough, they'd see a small group of people making their way across the water. They stayed there until their legs ached and their back was stiff, and they saw nothing.

"Meili…?"

A hand rested on their arm, and another went around their shoulders, and they closed their eyes and rubbed their forehead. Their stinging eyes, at least, they could blame on the salty air; they couldn't quite get away with ignoring the shuddering breath, but at least their partners were the only ones close enough to hear it.

"I think they're looking for you," Bridget whispered.

"We could throw them in the ocean," Eric offered, with a giddy sort of grin that reminded Meili of when all of them were younger, and Eric's jokes were often at least semi-serious.

Meili managed something that resembled a laugh. "Stars, I don't need any more stress. Do you know how long it'd take to fish them out?"

"We have Keybearers; it'd be fine."

"Do you want us with you?" Bridget asked, gentle.

They couldn't even see the main island anymore.

"Yeah," they said. "If you don't mind being bored for a while."

"With you?" Eric asked. "Come on; you've always managed to make things interesting."

"I think I'd prefer things to be a little less interesting for a while." More than anything, they just wanted to go back to their apartment with their partners, and have a quiet dinner, and spend the evening laughing with them and talking about their day.

(And there was a part of them that was willing to admit there were extra spaces there now—four figures, shoving their way into their lives and probably ruining much of any chance for a relaxing night again. But that would be alright, they thought, so long as they were still here.)

A gentle tug on their arm. "Come on," Bridget murmured. "The others are waiting."

"…Right." They turned, but their attention stuck on the horizon until the very last moment. And then they closed their eyes, and took a breath, and straightened their shoulders. When they opened their eyes again, they felt the familiar mantle of Head of the Exploration Department falling over their shoulders. It made it easier to focus on the present, and on what they needed to do.

And if thoughts of the missing kids still lingered in the back of their mind—well. That was only for them to know.

---

-"This ain't going to be easy." Luxu's voice had lost some of its edge, the booming, all-encompassing thing fading into something a little more human. Skuld listened with rapt attention, leaning forward like she could make him tell her faster. "If bringing back the dead were simple, everyone would do it."

"But there is a way," Skuld pressed, and she could feel the way her heartbeat sped up with the hope of it. It felt like she didn't entirely dare to breathe, just in case it broke some sort of spell.

"Yeah." Luxu laughed, and it sounded unspeakably tired. "You see a lot, over the years I've lived. Eventually, you're going to run into all sorts of things you never thought possible." His fingers tapped the top of his Keyblade, and the keychain clanked against the handle. That blue eye stared back at them, ever-watching. "What I'm going to tell you is something forbidden. It goes against the laws of nature, and the World often doesn't take kindly to people who try to break the natural order of things. I've seen people attempt it maybe a handful of times. Two never actually made it back. One gave up. Another brought their loved one back, but they were never quite the same. But the last—well. What I'm saying is it's possible, but you've got pretty low odds. You still want to try it?"

She had run back into a war to save one friend; she would go to the afterlife and beyond, if it meant she could protect the people she loved. "Yes."

Luxu tilted his head, and she felt pinned, suddenly. Her skin prickled, and it felt like something was constricting around her chest; everything slowed to a crawl, and she couldn't breathe couldn't breathe couldn't—

And then the pressure released, and Luxu's shoulders relaxed a little. Skuld took a shuddering breath, and shook out her free hand to try and steady herself.

(She could still feel Brain's blood, sticky between her fingers.)

"Let me tell you a story," Luxu said, and there was a rumble underneath his voice that made Skuld's skin prickle, "and I need you to listen to the end, because this is how you're going to get your friend back.

"A long time ago, there was one Great Heart. From that Heart came many others, and they spread out across the worlds, and experienced many things. Those hearts had vessels that would protect them while they were here in the World—but no vessel lasts forever. When their vessel breaks down, the Great Heart takes them back home, and welcomes them into its Light. There, the smaller hearts will tell the Great Heart their stories, and rest for a while, and maybe, when they're ready, they'll be sent back out into the world.

"But sometimes, a heart just can't quite let go of the World. Sometimes they experienced a great wound—something so deep that it scars them permanently, even after their vessel has faded away. Sometimes, they forged connections so strong that they can't leave behind the people they loved—or the people they hated. And sometimes, they simply weren't ready to stop exploring the World and rest. These hearts can't make it back to the Great Heart; they're clinging to the World too strongly, anchored here by their own desires. But they can't return to the World; their vessels are already gone, and if they were to stay here, they'd be in danger. And so a new world was created to give them a place to stay. This place is known as The Final World—a world of sea and sky, where those hearts still clinging to the World can rest, and watch, and think, until they're finally ready to let go.

"Now here's the thing: if a heart moves on, you can't reach it anymore—at least, not without some pretty drastic measures. But The Final World is a bridge between the World and the Great Heart. People can slip over accidentally while they sleep—and the dead can sometimes reach back. Most of the time, however, it's only a temporary thing—but some people got it into their heads that maybe it didn't have to be. They could already reach across the barrier temporarily; it shouldn't be impossible to grab onto someone and pull them back over, right? And so they worked, and they studied, and they explored, and, eventually, they found a solution.

"Keyblades are unique things. They are nearly-living weapons, extensions of their wielders, and capable of unlocking anything—even hearts. The body anchors the heart to this time and place—but by freeing the heart, they could travel across planes. Time, and death."

And Skuld was, very suddenly, standing in the lifeboat chamber again.

"But a freed heart can get lost. They'd need a way to anchor themselves to the living world, or else they might end up stuck in The Final World, too. Like a lifeline—or a chain.

"These early wielders were the first to discover the Unchained State—a state where the heart is temporarily untethered, allowing them to briefly travel across different plains, provided they had anchors on either side. But the most daring knew that they would need something more if they wanted to bring back their loved ones, and so they dove into the ability, developing it further. This would become known as the Power of Waking—the power to awaken sleeping hearts by unchaining themselves from their reality and diving deep, deep into the heart of another. And what is death but a much deeper sleep?

"This is what you'll need to use to save your friend. Anchor yourselves here, so you have a waypoint to follow home. Unchain your hearts, and chain yourself to your friend's. Follow that thread until the very end, and wake him up, and guide him home.

"There's no guarantee it'll work. Sometimes, people are just too far gone. But it's been done before, if you're willing to try."

Luxu fell quiet, but it felt like the echoes of the story reverberated off the walls of the Clock Tower. Skuld felt a little like she was reeling, legs unsteady. "So when we time-traveled—we—"

"Were Unchained—at least, in a way. Not quite dead, but not really alive, either."

It was…a lot to process. But it didn't feel like she had long to wait; Brain was still gone, and the more they hesitated, the more worried she got that they might not be able to bring him back at all. "What do we do?" she asked. "How do we use this…?"

Luxu leaned a little further over his Keyblade, and she listened as the keychain rattled. "Start by finding an anchor," he said. "Something that can help guide you back."

"Like…?"

"Anything. Something you have a strong connection to—something you can find, no matter how deeply lost you feel."

Kvasir cleared his throat. "Do we…all need one…?" he asked, hesitant; his face was pale, and it dawned on Skuld that she might be dragging them into danger, too.

She started, "You don't—"

"No. I want to come." Kvasir gave her a weak smile. "It's—frightening, but…Brain's my friend, too. I want to help bring him back." And then he laughed, and it sounded painfully tired. "And after this, perhaps, not do anything that feels like it could be part of one of the stories."

Skuld's lips twitched, just slightly, toward a smile. "Sorry. If you're stuck with us, you might be out of luck."

"I guess we'll have to make sure you guys rest, too."

"We'll make Brain figure out a spell for it," Mimir signed, drawing Skuld's attention. "'Keep interesting things away.'"

Skuld's eyes burned, and her throat tightened, and she laughed wetly. "Yeah. Okay."

"It's easier if everyone has one," Luxu said, and Skuld found her attention drawn back to him, the weight of the situation settling over her shoulders. "But I'm guessing you guys don't have a lot on you right now."

Mimir made a face, and Kvasir shook his head sheepishly. Sigurd didn't say anything; just stood and watched, quiet.

"Thought not. Well—if you guys all stick together, you should be alright. One person leaves something here, and uses it to guide them home; everyone else follows them. But that means none of you can wander off. If you do, you might not be able to make it back."

Skuld exchanged looks with the rest of them. Kvasir shrugged, looking helpless. "I don't know if we have much of a choice. It'd be…difficult to go looking for anything, I think."

"I didn't have much to begin with," Skuld said, and she could feel a bitter smile curling her face.

"So what are we leaving?" Mimir signed, glancing between them. "Does anyone have anything?"

Silence, for a moment. Kvasir riffled through his pockets and bag, but he didn't look hopeful. Sigurd hesitated a moment, then started his own search. Mimir glanced between them, uncertain.

Skuld tapped her fingers against Master's Defender, and tried not to think about how cold the Keyblade felt, or how much they needed to get moving, or the fact that Brain wasn't here and if they kept waiting—

Focus. What do you have?

She had—armor. But it was damaged, and even if she doubted she'd need it—she didn't know. She could leave a piece of clothing, maybe, but would that be strong enough to guide her back? A Keyblade would, she thought, but a part of her recoiled at it; she didn't think she could bring herself to leave Starlight or Master's Defender, and she wasn't even sure if her connection to Master's Defender was strong enough, besides.

But…wait. There is something…

Gingerly, she reached up to finger the cord around her neck. Carefully, she pulled out the star-shaped charm Brain had made for her, back when she'd first arrived in Scala ad Caelum.

It was still, miraculously, in one piece, protected by spells her friend had placed over it. The glass glinted in the growing light, and Skuld's throat tightened as she heard the echoes of earlier days, and felt the remnants of her friend's embrace. We'll get him back. This isn't the end—we'll get him back.

She could feel the others watching her; she blinked, and tried to steady herself, but Luxu still looked a little blurry when she turned to him. "Would this work?" she asked, extending it toward him, and trying to ignore the way it felt like something was pulling on her chest as she contemplated letting it go.

Luxu didn't answer right away; he extended a hand and gently took the charm from her, and Skuld had to fight herself not to try and take it back, because what if they didn't get him back what if that was one of the last things she had left—

Stop. It's going to be okay.

"I'm guessing it means a lot to you."

"Brain made it. Back when—" She broke off, and took a steadying breath. "It's not much—but it's important to me."

Luxu inclined his head a little. "…Yeah," he said after a moment. "That'll work." He wrapped the cord around the hilt of his Keyblade, and Skuld's eyes flicked to it, staring at the place where it rested.

"What next?" Skuld asked, and she could hear the way her voice drifted, distant. There was a pounding in her ears, and Master's Defender felt heavier in her palm than she expected it to.

"Hold tight."

She thought, for a moment, that Luxu was talking to her—but his attention had turned to the others, attention sweeping across them, and after a hesitant moment, the three of them moved. Hands rested on Skuld's shoulders and arms, and she gripped Master's Defender with both hands. It was still quiet, but she thought she could feel a quiet hum beneath her fingertips, like it was slowly waking up.

"This isn't like it was before; you don't just have one waypoint you need to anchor yourself to. You're going to need to untether yourself from this world—but if you have no idea where you're going, you could wander off. Get lost. Find yourself trapped in The Final World, like so many other lost hearts."

"So how do we avoid that?" Skuld asked, and she thought of what it'd been like, when the world had fallen—when she'd been in the lifeboat chamber, and desperately trying to figure out how to stay with her friends. "Do we just…think of him…?"

Luxu barked a short laugh. "It might work—if you're lucky. But nah—there's a bit more of a foolproof plan you can use."

His head shifted, and Skuld's attention snapped sideways, to where Mimir was standing a little straighter, eyes gone wide.

"Heart magic." That was Sigurd, and she could hear something like a realization in his voice. "You mentioned that, before."

Mimir's expression cleared, and Skuld could feel something like hope, bubbling in her chest.

"Use your magic to guide yourself toward him," Luxu said, attention focused on Mimir. "Think you can do that?"

Mimir's expression steeled, and they nodded.

"Alright." Luxu's hands flexed on top of his Keyblade. "Listen close: not every heart is easy to reach. I don't know what sorts of things you might have to travel through, or how deep you'll have to dive to wake the kid up. Let your heart guide you—and when you're ready, reach out for your waypoint, and bring yourselves back home."

Skuld inclined her head, and she could feel the others around her tensing, hands gripping tighter.

Master's Defender hummed. She could feel something waking in the space next to her heart—something that felt familiar, a presence hovering near her shoulder, watching Luxu just as intensely.

The Keeper's Keyblade jerked free of the ground. The eye in the blade glinted as the blade, slowly, turned toward Skuld's chest. "Are you ready?"

Her heart was pounding as it dawned on her, slowly, what he was about to do. For a moment, it made her question if they should really be doing this at all. But—

But Brain is gone—and I don't know how else to bring him back.

"Wait," Kvasir started, voice rising in panic. "Wait, what are you—"

"Do it," Skuld said, voice tight, and she could feel the way the others pressed close around her.

The Keepers Keyblade moved; it blurred through the air, and she didn't even have time to steady herself before she felt the impact of it. Maybe it was better that way.

It didn't feel like how she imagined getting stabbed would—but then, Luxu wasn't intending to kill her. There was pain, but it was a distant sort of thing. More present was the sudden, almost panic-inducing feeling of weightlessness, and the sensation of chains breaking, the bonds holding her to this time and placing cracking apart, one by one. Her heart felt like it was floating in her chest, her body feeling strangely…distant. She tried not to look at the Keyblade in her chest, and instead stared back at Luxu as she tried to swallow her panic.

(She wondered if this was at all what Brain had felt, when—)

The world behind Luxu was fading. Everything was turning blurry, colors and shapes starting to blend together. But the black-coated figure remained, surprisingly sharp in clarity. "Good luck," he said. "May your heart be your guiding key."

And then she was falling.

It was a strange sort of feeling—a swooping feeling in a missing stomach, heart jumping into a throat she wasn't even entirely sure was there anymore. She thought she could feel arms clinging to her, but it was a strangely distant sort of thing, sensations remembered from a different time and place. She could feel three hearts much more strongly, light burning bright as they tumbled down and down and down, buffeted by non-existent winds and thrown along waves that weren't there.

For what might've been an eternity or a second, there was only darkness, save for the small flickers of light beside her. And then, in what might've been a blink, it broke open into the World—into thousands upon thousands of places and times, a cacophony of sights and sounds and smells speeding past too quickly for her to grasp. Long threads flicked past her, thin, pale-blue strings twining around them. In the flickers, she thought she could see—

(a prison cell and a girl in a hospital gown that looked strikingly familiar)

(a dark city and a red-haired boy with a person that she thought she should know)

(a castle that wasn't familiar but that made her chest ache and a group of people that spoke of the future)

There was a pressure that felt like it was weight down on her—like something was examining her, slowly pressing against her weak points, a curious sort of anger starting to build and build and build. And around her, she thought she could hear—voices. See the flicker of other lights, warm and bright, and feel the wash of foreign emotions, poking into the crevices of her heart.

But she wasn't looking for them.

Brain. We're here to find—Brain. We're here to bring him home.

Something tugged on her heart, and she wasn't sure if it was her friend, still close by her side and trying to guide her, or if it was her own connection, not entirely severed, even by death. But she found herself turning, tugged in a different direction, and she could feel the heat of a slow-rising anger, all-encompassing, as it bit at her heels. She didn't expect the way it burned—it made her feel like something was boiling in her throat, molten enough to eat away through what remained of her body, and there was an instinctive sort of thing that said they needed to run, they needed to move faster, they couldn't let themselves fall into this—

And so they moved, tumbling over and over and over, and they tumbled through twisting worldlines, universes flashing past them. The more they moved, the more it felt like things were collapsing; the World was collapsing in on them, folding over itself and narrowing the direction they could go in, and Skuld was suddenly aware of how hard it was to breathe, but—

But she could feel something. A fifth heart—familiar, and warm, and distant. She could almost feel the way it was beating, and it was…tired. Fading. Falling away, deep into the waves below.

"Brain!"

There was a voice echoing through the spaces between the wordlines; she didn't know it, but she thought she should. A thread brushed against her heart, strangely cool, and she thought she could see a black-coated figure standing in Scalan streets, reality twisting around him as he tried to reach across barriers that weren't truly meant to be crossed.

"Brain, I can sense you, but I need to reach back."

Brain.

There was a flicker—a faint, slow-growing light, glimmering up ahead. She thought she could see a hazy shape around it—something that looked a lot like her friend, his eyes closed as he fell, deeper and deeper, into sleep.

And despite the pressure against her sides, despite the way it felt like everything was collapsing around her, despite everything, Skuld tried to reach back. "Brain!"

The light flickered. The world around them was growing darker, collapsing into one single point, until all she could see was that small, wavering heart.

I can't lose him. Not him, too, please. "Brain!" she shouted, her voice raw. "Come on, keep going!" Please.

Movement, slow. The eyes of that hazy shape opened. For a long moment, nothing happened.

And then, very slowly, a hand reached out toward her.

It felt like something was buzzing in her chest, and Skuld moved, stretching back.

In half a beat, the light disappeared, and she crashed into the water.

---

-It is—

Cold.

It is cold, and it is dark, and there is something that he thinks he is forgetting. He is—

(His name is Brain. He is a Keyblade wielder, and he has only started his training. He is not good at swordplay, but he is fascinated by magic, and by potion making, and by other things, and he pours himself into learning all he can about these topics that had forbidden to him before, rather than worrying about Unions or Lux.)

(His name is Brain. He is a Union Leader, and he has been tasked with saving the world. He is grieving the loss of a friend, and trying not to think about it. He is clever, and stubborn, and he's never considered himself 'hard working' before, but he thinks he can do it, if it means living up to the faith that was placed in him.)

(His name is Brain. He has friends now—a family? He didn't mean for it to happen; he is supposed to be saving the world, and these people are supposed to be helping him, with no more meaning than that. But that is not what has happened, and he is finding it increasingly hard to let go of them.)

(His name is Brain. He has failed, and now he is alone in a strange world, with no family and no purpose.)

He cannot remember, entirely; it feels like there is something important, swimming around him and slipping away. But there is—something. He can still see—impressions. He thinks. He is not sure. They look like—

(An apartment that is his, but isn't. A friend, the last piece of his family, and empty spaces left between them.)

(A Clock Tower that he does not know but feels more like home than any of these strange places, and people who he does not trust but who he wishes he could.)

(A hideaway—a different apartment, but one filled with signs of life, not empty and barren like the one-that-is-his. There is warmth, and there are voices of people he is only just starting to come to know, and he wants to sink into it, but feels the weight of responsibility crushing his shoulders.)

(That same friend, and he is not sure where they are, and he does not think it matters, because she feels like home, and he cannot help but feel guilty that he struggles to notice the empty spaces anymore.)

But it is cold. And it is dark. And—he is not sure it is supposed to be like that.

He does not know why. In the distance, he thinks he can hear—

Crashing waves. The ripple of water, near-still. Other voices, so quiet he cannot make out the words. And—

There is one that he knows.

There is—

(He has made a mistake. He is hurting her, and he cannot go back, cannot let go, cannot let all of this be in vain, but. He is hurting her.)

(A sharp pain through his chest. His lungs expand, and they fill with fluid. He cannot breathe, and he tries not to choke on it, and knows it does not matter. But he will not make this worse, if he can help it.)

(A voice. It is—familiar. And breaking. And—he cannot feel much. The words sound like they are coming from a distance, and words are. Hard. But. He does not want to leave her like this. And—)

He had—there was someone. That he had left. She was—she wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposed to be—

Alive.

And then there is panic, so sharp and sudden that he feels awake again. Because—she should not be here. She should not be putting herself in danger. She should not be coming after him, she was supposed to live—

"Brain!"

Skuld.

The name comes to him, and he sees—

(Black hair and golden eyes and he remembers meeting her, back in the wastelands, and a friendship built reluctantly through arguments and study sessions and later long nights and familiar griefs, and he remembers, too, the relief when he'd found one of his family here and trying to piece together what they could from the wreckage, even if everything felt incomplete without the others. And—

He remembers failed cooking attempts. And games, in the streets of Scala. And teasing each other, or comforting each other after hard nights. And of making new friends, and—

She was supposed to live.)

It feels like he is struggling up from underneath the water. He is choking, and he is clawing at something that feels like it is his, digging into it with hands he cannot feel.

And all at once, it feels like there is clarity.

He is Brain, and he feels, almost, like himself. He clings onto memories—drags them back to himself, holding onto them as they try to tumble free, climbing over them as he tries to clamber back toward reality, because his friend is there and she could be in danger and he can't he can't he can't—

But it is—hard. To hold onto the things that make him him. Something keeps tugging on them, teasing them away, and he feels like he is unraveling. It was not scary, before; it is now, now that he has been reminded that he has something to fight for. And so he fights and claws and reaches, swimming through the darkness like somehow, some way, he will burst back into the light.

And then something moves around him. It curls, cold and sticky, and he can feel it patching up the places where his memories try and slip away—holding them together, even as they strain. And there is a part of him that feels a little more stable—a little less panicked. He can think—clearer, now, or he can start to, as the panic slowly ebbs and he feels like he can hold onto himself.

It is why, after a moment, he started to recognize it—the thing curling around him, cradling his heart like a blanket—even before they speak.

Hello, Little Light.

---

-Skuld's head broke water, the world a blinding white. She gasped and coughed, her hands slamming onto still-wet land; her eyes stung as she dragged herself out of the waves, water rippling over her fingertips. Distantly, she could hear the others doing the same; her ears felt clogged, and she shook her head rapidly to clear them.

Her chest and throat ached, but her breathing was clearing; she sat back on her heels and took long, deep breaths, tilting her head skyward. Slowly, slowly, her vision started to clear; she blinked away sunspots, and very gradually, the world came into view.

Blue skies. White clouds, floating slowly. Water so clear it reflected the sky perfectly, stretching as far as the eye could see. And nothing else—no people, or landmarks, or…anything.

The world was very quiet, save for the sound of their breathing, and the quiet splash of water as they moved. It made Skuld's skin prickle at the eeriness of it; she pushed herself slowly to her feet, Master's Defender still gripped in her hands, and let her eyes track across the surface of the water. Where is…?

Kvasir gasped, flopping over, arms spread across the water's surface. Sigurd wrung out his jacket. Mimir stood silent, fingers lifted near their chest like they wanted to sign something, but weren't sure what.

"Is this right?" Skuld asked in a whisper. "Are we…?"

She turned and caught Mimir's eye. A flicker of clarity went across their face, and they closed their eyes, one hand placed across their heart.

"I would assume it has to be," Sigurd said, though he didn't sound as confident as he probably would've liked to. "We followed Brain's heart, and it led us here."

"It's so…empty." She took a couple of hesitant steps, Master's Defender stretching, like she could brush it through ghosts.

"Perhaps they are simply elsewhere. It would seem like it is a big world, after all—big enough to encompass all of the living ones."

"But it seems like there should be more here, then."

"He's here." Mimir's whisper drew her attention. They still had their eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed, a frown on their face. "But it's…murky? It's like it's hard to see him."

It made Skuld uneasy, and she trailed further across the water, eyes flicking across the empty space.

"Wait—don't go too far," Kvasir breathed, flipping over and slapping his hand against the water. "Luxu said—if we went too far away from each other, we might get lost."

"I'm not going to," Skuld said, and she almost couldn't hear her own words over the way her heart was pounding. "I just—I need to know that this is right. That—"

(That I didn't lead my friends into danger we can't get out of. That I'm not going to lose my one chance to save one of my missing friends. That—)

"A Union Leader?"

Skuld stumbled backward, water splashing around her ankles. Master's Defender whipped around, lifted defensively.

There was no one there.

She could feel Sigurd and Kvasir, crowding at her shoulders. "What was…?" Sigurd started.

"A…ghost?" Kvasir suggested.

"I don't believe—" Sigurd started, then broke off. "Well. I suppose if anywhere were to have ghosts, it'd be here."

"Guys," Skuld hissed, and she strained her ears, Master's Defender tracking carefully across the water's surface.

"It is a Union Leader."

That came—from her right, she thought. She moved, and the other two moved with her, and she still couldn't see anything—just an endless expanse of water and sky.

"Mom told me stories about you! She said that you were heroes who helped chase away the darkness." The voice fell quiet, for just a moment. "You guys must've been really brave."

Something flickered, near the water's surface. Skuld squinted, trying to make it out against the sunlight.

There. Another flicker—small particles of light, just barely visible.

Skuld knelt, and she ignored the sounds of the others stumbling behind her. She stretched out one hand, fingers trailing along the edges of…something.

"Master Skuld, wait—" Sigurd started.

Her fingers touched a sharp edge. Light flickered, then grew brighter, patterned across a familiar shape: a star, slowly spinning over the water's surface. She took a breath, and rested on her knees, cautiously lowering Master's Defender to cup the glittering shape.

"I wasn't very brave." The voice was very…child-like, now that she was paying closer attention to it. She could almost feel it vibrating through her fingertips—more an impression of words than an actual sound. "When the monsters came, it was…scary. I went and hid in the closet, and Mom came yelling for me, and I didn't come out. I don't really remember what happened after that." The star spun, and she thought she could catch flickers of emotion from it—grief, and fear, and hope, tiny pinpricks flashing across her palms. "But maybe you know! Do you know my mom? She has red hair and brown eyes and a really big smile."

She didn't know anyone who looked like that, and she could feel her throat tightening. "I don't know," she murmured. "Maybe. Do you know—she was from Scala, right?"

"Yeah! We were from Sol."

Sol. One of the outer islands—one of the ones that had fallen. Skuld's eyes squeezed shut, and she whispered, "If you tell me a name—I can ask around. Okay?"

"Okay!"

"Wasted time."

The voice rumbled across the water, and Skuld was ready to turn around and snap at the owner—until it dawned on her that she recognized the voice.

Kvasir's breath stuttered. He turned, head swiveling, footsteps splashing through the water.

"All that time, working so that my family would have the respect we deserved—all that for nothing."

"Uncle!" Kvasir shouted, voice strained. "Uncle, where…?"

"Of course Aegir would be here," Skuld muttered, and she couldn't help the way her voice turned bitter.

"I suppose it's not surprising," Sigurd murmured, "given how stubbornly he fought." He went quiet, and the two of them watched as Kvasir finally found himself in front of a star; he fell to his knees, making a pained sort of noise. "But I don't think he's much of a threat anymore."

"Hi, Mimir."

Skuld heard something that sounded like a wheeze, and she turned to see Mimir, hand fisted tightly, eyes wide and wet as they stared at a star flickering in front of them.

"You grew up a lot," the star said, and there was laughter in their—her?—voice. "No fair."

Mimir's lip wobbled; they scrubbed at their eyes with their free arm, sniffing, a broken expression on their face.

"One of my biggest regrets was how I left. I mean, I guess it's not the only one—but I hated that that was how I had to die, you know? I never got to apologize for it."

Mimir made a choked sort of sob, voice squeaking like they wanted to say something and couldn't. After a moment they just shook their head, shaking.

"You better explore lots of worlds since I can't! Okay?"

They nodded, still quivering.

Sigurd's head turned, attention seeming to slowly track across the water, like he was looking for something. No stars came to speak to him.

Now that Skuld was looking, she could see them a little clearer—flickers of light against the water's surface, countless stars stretched out across the world. Their voices were little more than whispers, hushed like a quiet breeze, spreading across the world—but they were there, all the same, murmuring stories few people were left to hear. "Are these…?"

"You four," interrupted a high-pitched, surprisingly familiar voice, "are in so much trouble!"

"Chirithy?" she asked, voice rising in shock—as much for the tone as for the fact that they were actually here, because she didn't think she'd ever heard her Chirithy shout like that before.

But when she turned, there was a Chirithy with an achingly familiar hat marching toward them, her Chirithy scurrying after them.

"Wait," her Chirithy said, scrambling to try and catch up with their counterpart. "Wait, don't be mean—"

"I'll be mean if it gets them to listen better!" They stopped in front of Skuld, waving a paw accusingly at her, and she found her chest welling with something bittersweet. "You guys took a huge risk coming here! You could get stuck here, or—or the World could decide that you need to be punished for breaking its laws, or—stop smiling this is serious!"

Skuld laughed wetly and didn't bother to try and scrub the smile off her face. "I'm sorry, it's just—you really are Brain's Chirithy, aren't you?"

"Of course I am." They puffed out their chest, like it was something they were proud of. "So it's my job to make sure that nothing bad happens to his friends. Including because they did something dumb trying to help him."

It made her smile fall. "You know he's here, then."

Chirithy deflated, most of their bravado falling away. "I felt it, when he died. Our connection's been really distant, ever since Daybreak Town fell—but then all of a sudden, there was a lot of pain, and grief, and then our connection was suddenly a lot stronger again, and—I knew. I was trying to find him, when your Chirithy came and found me."

Her Chirithy came bounding past Brain's, hurrying to throw themself into her lap. She caught them, cradling them carefully as they said, "I'm sorry! I didn't know what was happening, and I got scared, and I sensed another Chirithy here—"

"It's okay," Skuld said. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this, too."

"I'm your Chirithy! Where you go, I go."

She smiled, but it had a sad sort of edge to it. With a steadying breath, Skuld lifted her head, attention turned toward Brain's Chirithy. "You said you were looking for him. Do you…?"

There was something sad in their expression, and it made Skuld's skin prickle. They sighed, but they turned, footsteps padding quietly across the water. "…He's this way."

Slowly, the four of them followed. Skuld held her Chirithy with one arm, her other hand wrapped around Master's Defender's hilt. They trailed between the flickering stars, snippets of conversations whispering past her ears. It was almost eerie; while a couple stars seemed to notice their passing, most barely seemed to register their presence, talking as if to themselves. They were easy to miss; Skuld found herself side-stepping some at almost the last moment, and one broke around her ankles, sending a tingling, hot-cold sort of feeling up her legs. Brain's Chirithy seemed unbothered; they wove around the stars easily, like they had a better sense for them than all of them did, and it made her throat tighten. She wondered how long they'd been alone here, to learn this. She wondered if that even mattered; it felt like time didn't move here at all, everything slowed down to a crawl, with nothing but the rippling waves and passing clouds.

"So," Kvasir whispered, voice lifted above murmurs, "are all of these…hearts?"

Chirithy was quiet a moment; they shifted around another star, reaching out a paw as if to pat it. "Yeah," they whispered. "When someone dies, they don't have a body to give them form anymore. The hearts don't have the strength to create new ones, most of the time—so they just float here like this."

A star flickered near Skuld's waist; she trailed her fingers along the edges of it. She wondered how many were here because of what had happened at Scala ad Caelum; she wondered how many were from her time.

"Most stars just kind of talk to themselves—about stuff like what they were thinking when they died, and what they miss, and the people they left behind. I think they're trying to work through things—to figure out how to let go, so that they can move on. But sometimes—" They broke off, their footsteps slowing.

Mimir made a vague noise of alarm. They hurried toward Chirithy, footsteps making loud splashing noises against the water, and Skuld, heart in her throat, followed.

Brain's Chirithy was looking down at something beneath the waves. Skuld didn't see what it was right away; the shadows nearly swallowed it, cold and deep. But when she strained her eyes, she thought she could just barely see a flicker of light.

Her breath stuttered. "Is that…?"

Another flicker. There was—there was a star under there. It spun, like the others, but it was…sluggish. It didn't look like the light moved quite right, tiny specks nearly breaking apart. It was like there were cracks through the star's surface, shadows creeping between them.

"That's him," Mimir whispered, their face pale.

Skuld's hand pressed against the surface of the water. Her throat tightened, and her vision blurred; she took a shuddering breath, releasing it in a stutter."He's really…?"

She looked to Chirithy; they weren't looking at her at all, attention focused on the star far beneath the waves. There was something sad in their expression, their shoulders slumped low. "Sometimes," they said, quiet, "they get hurt. Sometimes when they die, something does a lot of damage to their heart—magic, or a physical wound, or something else. Or sometimes, they had a lot of grief or pain, all hidden away—and when they die, they just don't have the strength to deal with it anymore. So the heart goes to sleep for a while, and hides deep beneath the water so it can heal."

Skuld's fingers curled. "So Brain is—hurt." No one responded—but then, no one really needed to. "Is it because of…?"

(She could still feel his blood, sticky against her palms. Master's Defender had gone in close to his heart; what if this was her fault? What if she…?)

"It could be because of Darkness," Kvasir said, and with some effort she tore her eyes away from the star and looked up at her friend. "Being a vessel would probably hurt, right?"

"Or they dragged him down with them," Mimir signed, expression complicated.

"…He was also carrying around a lot of hurt for a very long time," Sigurd murmured. "Perhaps that is what is weight him down, now." He turned his head toward her, and despite his hidden eyes, she still felt pinned by them. "I doubt it was something you did, Master Skuld."

She didn't know what she was supposed to do with that, so she turned and looked at the star instead.

Brain.

He was here. He was here, and she couldn't reach him, and he was hurting, and he was—he didn't look like him. It was a strange sort of thing, to focus on, but—it felt like she was staring at a shade. Something that was not quite her friend—only a fragment of the person he'd been. It drove it in, all over again, that this was real—that Brain had died, and that they would have to—

"What do we do?" Skuld asked, and her voice wavered, but she pressed on, because she couldn't let herself think about it anymore. "How long do hearts sleep like this?"

Chirithy was quiet for several long, long moments, face scrunching in contemplation. "I don't know," they admitted. "Time doesn't really matter here—it doesn't move. They just stay there until they've done whatever they need to do, and then they come back to the surface."

"Is there a way to—bring him up? To help him heal, and bring him home?"

Chirithy sighed, an exasperated, sad sort of sound. "I don't know." They sat on the water's surface with a thump, their eyes trained on Brain's star. "He's…sad, I think. And tired. He's been doing so much for so long that I think that maybe his heart just…couldn't take it anymore."

It stung, all over again, and it made Skuld wonder if it was fair to try and bring him back at all. I don't want to lose him, she thought, and she could feel the way the sob bubbled in her throat, but…what if he doesn't want to…?

"It's okay," Chirithy whispered, "to go back. He wouldn't want you to hurt yourselves trying to save him."

She knew that was true. If something happened to them—she wasn't sure he would handle it very well, after everything. But—

She stared at the star, and tried to imagine it as her friend. She wished she could reach out and grab him—to hug her friend, or to cup the star in her hands, or something. But all she could do was press her hands against the water, and try to reach deeper. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry. But if—if you want to stay here—if you don't want to go back—you have to give me some sort of sign." She searched, and—and she wasn't sure if she saw anything. It all looked dark, deep below the waves. "You—maybe you want to rest. And—and that's okay." It didn't feel okay, but…she couldn't deny him that, if that's what he wanted. "But we'd all like you to come home. Please."

The star flickered and dipped. The shadows crawled along it, making it hard to really see. She swallowed, and wondered if anything she'd said had reached him at all; maybe he was just too deep, and nothing she could do could possibly reach him.

But then—

"…Skuld?"

It was whisper-quiet; she almost missed it, the word hardly a breath against her ear. It still made her start upright, her skin prickling with something like relief. "Brain?" she breathed, and pressed a little harder; she might've been imagining it, but she thought it looked like the star glowed just a little brighter.

"Did you hear him?" Water splashed beside her, and then Sigurd was kneeling there, too, bending just as low. "Master Brain—are you there? Can you hear us?"

The star spun slowly, dipping through the shadows.

"I'm sorry," Sigurd whispered. "I'm sorry that I spent so long following you on Frigga's orders. I should've chosen to help sooner—perhaps this all could've been avoided."

Another set of knees joined them—Kvasir, leaning closer to the water with an uncertain expression on his face. "Hey, Brain," he said, and laughed self-depreciatively. "I suppose you probably found me annoying, most of the time. I…certainly made your life harder, more often than not. But…it was nice, to actually get to know you. The real you, and not what the stories said. I'd like to learn more—but you have to come back for that."

Another—Mimir, bent beside them, a grieved sort of expression on their face. "You came for me," they whispered, "so I'm coming for you."

The star didn't move; it just hovered there, flickering in the shadows, and Skuld's eyes pricked. "How are we supposed to ask him?" she whispered. "How are we supposed to find out what he wants when…?" She leaned back on her heels and scrubbed at her eyes. "There has to be a way to reach him."

"…We came here from under the water, didn't we?" Kvasir asked tentatively. "Perhaps there's some way to reverse that?"

"Or would that just take us back to Luxu?" Sigurd murmured, sounding tired.

"Maybe with heart magic…"

The others' voices drifted into the distance. Skuld stared at the star, and breathed slowly, in and out.

In her palm, Master's Defender started to warm.

She thought she felt someone at her side. They pressed against her shoulder, warm and steady, and a hand wrapped gently around hers. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she could catch the faintest flicker of a red scarf.

Ephemer…?

"He's pretty far down there, huh?"

She might've felt silly, talking to a ghost, if she wasn't already in the land of the dead. "Yeah," she whispered, and it felt like a far-off thing, distant words pricking against her skin.

"Guess he's pretty tired. Finally making up for all those nights he stayed awake, huh?"

She couldn't quite bring herself to laugh, but she found a smile twitching her lips. "I wish it were easier to wake him up here. He used to be a pretty light sleeper."

"…I mean. Luxu did kind of give you the answer."

She didn't dare turn to look at her friend, in case it broke whatever spell let her speak to him—but she wanted to, if only to help her figure out what he meant. "What…?"

(Deep below, she thought she saw the star glowing a little brighter.)

"The Power of Waking," Ephemer continued. "It's used to wake up sleeping hearts—remember?"

"The Power of…" She blinked, and suddenly it felt like she had hope again, something catching in her chest as she stared down at the flickering heart of her friend. "I don't know how to use it."

"I do." If she closed her eyes, she could almost see his smile. "It's close enough to the Unchained State, right?"

This time she did laugh. "It's not the same thing."

"It's close enough!" Master's Defender hummed, and for a moment, she could see—

(An empty Daybreak Town—data Daybreak Town, she realized, long before any of the Dandelions had ever come there. An ache of loneliness, and the weight of responsibility, settling over her shoulders, and the flicker of a red scarf that wasn't hers.)

"You have all the knowledge to save him right here," Ephemer whispered. "All you need to do is ask for it."

Her throat tightened. "Will you—will you stick with me? To help?"

"Of course." When he spoke again, it felt like his voice was echoed by countless others—some familiar, but most not, all still warm and determined. "All of us will."

"Everyone," Skuld said, and it dawned on her that she was breaking into a conversation, the others' voices quieting, "hold onto me."

Master's Defender started to hum to life. In the back of her mind's eye, she thought she could see—

(A chain, tethering her to this world—and another, falling deep, deep beneath the water, to that flickering star below.)

"Do you have an idea?" That was—Kvasir, she realized, and she heard the sound of his footfalls splashing toward her, his hand reaching out to grip her shoulders.

"Yeah," she said, and she could feel the dregs of her magic stirring—something warm and fiery, if still somewhat drained, and she silently tried to coax them to life, encouraging them to burn brighter and brighter. Come on. Just a little bit more. We need to save our friend.

"Mimir," she said as her friend gripped her wrist, "can you guide us toward him?"

Mimir made a surprised sort of noise, but she thought she could see them nod, in her peripherals.

"Wait." That was—Brain's Chirithy, she thought, their voice starting to rise in nervous protest. "Wait, what are you going to do?"

A final set of hands gripped her, and she took a deep breath, closing her eyes. "Get ready."

The chains flickered brighter. She almost thought she could feel Ephemer hovering behind her, ready to bolster the four of them.

"Wait—don't do anything dangerous!"

The chain severed—and then, they were diving down, through the dark waters and toward the glittering star below.

---

-He knows this voice. It is danger and fear and grief—and it is also familiar and comforting in a strangely uneasy way. He—

(is in a room colored with stained glass, warm familiarity making his heart ache, everything tainted and chased away by the shadowy figure in front of him. He cannot see what happens, but there is grief and anger and guilt, and the sensation of something shattering apart under his feet.)

(is awake in a place that is not familiar—not really—but that he clings to like a lifeline, because there is nothing else he has to hold onto. Something has curled around his shoulders, sticky, and it lingers there, sticking to his skin and slowly crawling to cover his eyes and fill his mouth, turning the whole world cold.)

(is staring at someone that is important to him, and he cannot remember the details beyond that he is sorry and he wishes he could take it back and he would do anything to make this better.)

"You."

It takes him a moment to realize the hissed word is his. He cannot draw a blade, but he tries to, the memory making his heart burn hot hot hot. There is something more furious there than he'd ever allowed himself to be in life, and he wants to bite and claw and snarl at this thing that had taken so much from him and his loved ones.

There is laughter, then, and it echoes in a way that brushes against the confines of his heart. "Peace, Little Light. We are not here to hurt you. We can't—not here."

That seems…wrong. He is scrambling for a way to name why; he thinks that he is normally quicker than this, but it is hard to think, beyond the way his mind keeps spiraling.

(A Clock Tower. A crying friend. The laughter of people he'd once known, and an ache in his chest as he realized he would never get to hear it again.)

"You're doing something to me," he says, and it sounds right, his conviction restored. "You did something to me."

"Nothing you did not allow us to do."

No, he wants to say, because he would never hurt his friend—he would never—

(He is sitting in an empty Clock Tower. He feels…empty. There is an ache there, because he does not know what he is supposed to do anymore. And so he searches, spending sleepless nights trying to find friends that he had lost, and he is not sure he will ever find them but he does not have anything else to cling to.)

(He is standing in the ruins of an abandoned town, and he is staring at someone who had only ever spied on him, and he is hearing the voices of lost loved ones, and he is angry. The monster that had chased them out of their home is still here, and they were not told, and he did not know what to do, and he wondered why, why they could never actually be free of this. And so he fights, because he doesn't know what else to do.)

(He is chasing after a black box, because he needs to succeed, this time. He cannot lose another home. He cannot lose another friend. He cannot be responsible for another fallen world. And he will sacrifice anything, if it will make this shaking, ugly feeling in his chest go away.)

There is an understanding, there, and he falls quiet. He thinks that this—thing—Darkness comes the name, and he clings to the clarity—understands everything that has gone unsaid, and he is not sure he likes it.

"What are you doing?" he asks, after a moment.

"Holding you together."

"Why?"

"You were our vessel, however briefly. There is a part of us that is intertwined."

He takes that, and he mulls it over. "I'm dead," he says, testing the words, and it feels like he is trying to sort something out through the murk.

"Yes."

"And you're here. With me."

"We are."

He sinks into that, and he tries to muster up a feeling of…something. He thinks it should be satisfaction, but mostly, it feels hollow. "…Good," he says, finally, because he does not know what else to say. "That's…good."

---

-For a moment, there was only darkness. It was a heavy sort of thing, settling across Skuld's shoulders, threatening to drag her down, deeper and deeper. She couldn't see the others, but she could feel them, clinging to her arms, and their weight was grounding. They made the shadows feel slightly less…suffocating.

"Can you see him?" Kvasir asked. His voice seemed deadened, caught by the heavy air; Skuld almost thought she could hear the whispers of something echoing back toward them, and she shivered and tried not to dwell on it.

"Nothing," Sigurd answered. "How long do we…?"

"He's here." Mimir, voice sure and steady. "I can feel him. But it's like he's…" They trailed off, and Skuld could practically hear them thinking as they tried to work out what to say. "There's no direction. It's like he's…everywhere."

There was something about that which made Skuld's throat feel tight—but she wasn't sure she wanted to dwell on that.

Kvasir made a vague noise of surprise. "I think I see a light."

And—Skuld thought she could see it, too, she realized. A dim glow, just barely breaking through the shadows. It felt like some force was drawing them to it, and Skuld shifted to give herself a better angle.

It wasn't a star they were heading toward, she realized after a moment; it was a stained glass platform, a faint light pulsing from somewhere deep within. Images painted the surface—a stylized version of Daybreak Town, glowing in the background, colorful purple details trailing around the edges. Something caught in her chest as she noticed the people engraved there, too; small circular portraits all clustered near the platform's top, each one featuring one of the Union Leaders. Ven's, Lauriam's, and Ephemer's looked like they'd all grown stained and dull; hers was still bright, and beneath it, she thought she could see the vague outline of others, etched images not quite filled in.

At the edge of the platform rested Brain—or an image of him, at least. Master's Defender rested against his lap, and his eyes were closed. The real Keyblade made a sad sort of hum in her hands, and it made her heart ache a little with a feeling of loss.

Her feet hit the platform with a hollow sort of sound. The others released her only after a long, long pause; they didn't go far, only daring to trail a couple of steps. Skuld found her gaze drawn to the ground beneath her—to the cracks that trailed across the platform's surface, and to the shadows that crept around the edges, twisting like briars.

"Where is this?" Sigurd asked, voice hushed.

"…Brain's heart."

The answer came from Mimir, who looked a little like they'd seen a ghost. They turned, wide eyes sweeping over the others. "We're supposed to wake him up."

"And he's sleeping because his heart was damaged," Skuld finished. "So…we need to heal the damage."

She looked down at the cracks. She had no idea how to even begin fixing this; it sounded like something closer to heart magic, and she doubted even Mimir knew what it'd take to mend a broken heart like this, based on their expression. She found herself trailing further away, walking carefully along the platform's edges.

(For half a moment, she thought she saw a flash of yellow eyes—but it was only for a moment. It was…probably her imagination.)

"Do we just need to get rid of the darkness?" Kvasir asked. He reached out to poke it experimentally, only to be dragged back by Sigurd. "That's what's causing the problems—isn't it?"

"He did let himself become a vessel," Sigurd agreed, even if he still sounded skeptical. "Perhaps expunging the darkness will be enough to bring him back to the surface."

Skuld trailed along one of the cracks. She resisted the urge to kneel and run her hands over its edges; she looked down, at the spaces between the broken bits of glass, and wondered how far the wound stretched.

"That'd only be a temporary fix." She couldn't see Ephemer this time, but she thought she could feel him—a presence lingering warm beside her, voice whispering sadly in her ear. "You can get Darkness out of him, and it'd probably wake him up—but the thing that caused it to get in to begin with would still be there. In the end, it'd just invite darkness back in again."

"So we have to figure out how to fix the origin of the problem," Skuld finished.

"Skuld?" That was—Kvasir, she thought, but for a moment, all she could hear was Ephemer. "Who are you talking to?"

"We need to fix the origin of the problem," Skuld said, a little bit louder. "Not just the symptoms. Otherwise, we're just going to end up back here, all over again."

The others exchanged glances. A heavy silence stretched between them, and it dawned on her that none of them really had answers to give.

"Why'd he offer himself up as a vessel?" Kvasir ventured, finally. "He said that we couldn't use the box, but he never…explained why."

Skuld could feel the others looking at her, and she knew they didn't mean to, but it felt like they were poking at an old wound. It ached, a painful, festering sort of thing that made her want to curl up somewhere and avoid looking at them at all.

Because she should've known. She should've known. She'd seen all the signs, and she hadn't pressed hard enough, and now—

But he needs you. They all need you. You have to answer.

"The Dandelions." The word came out more brittle than she expected it to, and she could see the realization sweep across the others: the straightened backs, the widening eyes, the horrified understanding of what they'd been asked to sacrifice. "That's what the black box contained—and that's what he didn't want to sacrifice."

She probably could've ended it there; it was enough for them to understand the basics. But it didn't explain the deep, jagged cracks that stretched across her friend's heart, and she knew—she knew they needed to know everything, if they were going to actually help him.

(How long had these been here? How long had he kept this to himself, and let things grow and grow, until it had broken him apart?)

"One of our friends—Ven—used himself as a vessel, before."

She thought she could see Mimir starting to come to an understanding, the grief slowly spreading across their face; she wasn't sure if it was better or worse that the others hadn't realized yet.

"And—he knew that—he could to." She took a breath, and she could feel the way it rattled in her chest. "And he thought that he had to, because—because he still blamed himself. For everything that happened when Daybreak Town fell."

Saying it felt like being swamped with unexpected emotions. Anger—at herself, for not noticing, at him, for leaving, at the world, for every unfair thing it had put them through. Grief, for everything that they'd lost, and for her friend, whose death still left her with a hollow feeling in her chest, even if they were working to undo the damage. Guilt, because if she'd pressed harder—if she'd done something sooner—could she have prevented this?

She stared at the cracks, and could feel a prickle of accusation. "…I should've done something."

Kvasir made a faint noise of protest. "Skuld—"

"I knew him best. I knew something was wrong—I knew he didn't feel like he was worthy of Master's Defender, and that he was hurting, and that he was desperate to find a way to defeat Darkness—and I didn't do enough. I didn't press harder—"

"Master Brain was not the only one struggling," Sigurd interrupted, his voice quiet but firm. "You have faced plenty of challenges yourself; I can hardly blame you for not being able to talk him out of this scheme." After a moment, he added softly, "And you were not the only one around him. Any one of us could've noticed something was wrong—and none of us did. It does not do us much good to dwell on that now. We are here; what can we do to fix this?"

He was right; she hated it, almost, but focusing on her own guilt wasn't going to bring her friend back. So she took a breath, and straightened, and tried to reorganize her thoughts. "I know that he had…a lot of guilt, about what happened. But I don't know what…"

She trailed off, giving the others a lost sort of look.

Kvasir looked…surprisingly contemplative. After a moment he wandered away from them, stepping toward the edges of the platform. Skuld made a startled noise, hurrying after him, half afraid that he would fall or get hurt—but he just settled carefully on the edge, hands hesitantly pressed against some of the darkness seeping onto the glass. It shifted a little, like it was trying to recoil—but nothing happened, and Kvasir settled, just a little. "I…never knew how terrifying the end of the world could be," he started, haltingly.

Skuld stared at his back, eyebrows furrowed. Beside her, she thought she could sense the others doing the same. What is he…?

Kvasir's fingers tightened around the edges of the platform. "I'd heard so many stories of all of you—of how brave you guys were, fighting against Darkness and helping to create Scala ad Caelum. They were…really inspiring," he said with a self-depreciating laugh. "I used to think I wanted to be just like you—and for a long time, I thought I could be. Heartless weren't anything out of the ordinary. If a big enough one came along, I thought it'd be easy, to tackle it fearlessly, and be a hero just like all of you."

He shifted a little, bending over himself, like he was weighed down by his own words. "But…the stories don't really capture everything. I…don't think I know exactly what you all went through, really. I don't know what it was like to be made leaders of your world, or to soldier on after a massive war, but…"

He trailed off, and Skuld could almost feel him struggling to find the words. "But I know…when I found out what my family was doing…I was angry, at first. I refused to believe it. And—and if I hadn't—everything with Mimir might not have happened."

Mimir made a pained noise, and Skuld reached out, almost without thinking, to grip their hand.

"And that was only accepting it; it was so much harder to actually do anything. And when everyone started fighting—" He broke off, wobbling a little, and Skuld was a little frightened that he'd fall—but after a moment he steadied himself, breathing shakily in and out, and then continued, "When everyone started fighting—all I really wanted to do was run away." His voice broke, and it stayed that way as he continued, "If that's anything like what you went through—I don't blame you. I think it's—normal. To want that."

There was silence, for a moment—and then Mimir pulled away, too, and quietly went to settle beside Kvasir. They leaned against his shoulder, and he leaned back, taking silent comfort in each other.

And then: "I'm…not good at speaking," Mimir murmured. "But—I was so determined to live—to see my friends again—that I merged with the heart of someone else." There was grief, there, but also something steely. Challenging. "If you don't hate me for that—then don't hate yourself, either."

Footsteps tapped quietly across the stained glass—Sigurd, this time, settling a hesitant distance away from the others. "You…aren't the only one who has something to feel guilty about," he said. "At first, I didn't question Frigga's orders at all. I was supposed to watch you; Luxu wanted me to protect you. So I did. I kept track of you, and tried to keep the peace, and tried to keep you away from danger." He laughed, and it sounded bitter. "And it made you furious—rightfully so. I monitored your every move and reported back to someone who was mostly trying to manipulate you. I kept things from you that you had every right to know. And I didn't let myself question it too much—not until you challenged me.

"I thought for so long that I was doing the right thing—and I think that was the first time I realized I might not be. And I've done everything I could to try and make up for it." He went quiet, for a moment. "Perhaps you would argue that they aren't the same thing—a lost world isn't the same thing as an injured individual. But I would argue that the scale doesn't really matter; there is pain, all the same."

Skuld's throat tightened, and she found herself drawn to join them. She sat on Mimir's other side, and stared out into the darkness, trying to ignore the way that her eyes stung. "…I couldn't stop the end of the world, either," she pointed out, quiet. "Either time."

For a moment, she thought she could hear the sound of ringing metal in the distance; she could still feel her heart hammering with adrenaline, fear forcing her to go faster and faster and faster as she tried, desperately, to outrun the prospect of her own death.

"In the Keyblade War," she whispered, "you couldn't—you couldn't stop. I couldn't stop. I went back for my friend, but that meant—it meant leaving people behind. Thousands of them. It meant I couldn't stop to heal people—and sometimes, it meant fighting back." She swallowed, trying to ignore the lump that had formed in her throat. "Some of them were friends. Party members. People who deserved to live, too. But if I stopped to save them, I was never going to save my friend—so I didn't." She curled in on herself, and asked, "Did you hate me, for making that choice?"

It was a rhetorical question; even if he could answer, she knew what it would be.

"Sometimes things are just—too big. You can't stop everything—so you do what you can." She thought of Scala ad Caelum, and of the bluebloods, and gritted her teeth and forced herself to breathe out, slow. "You—you did what you could. You could only save some of us—and you did. None of us would've made it without you. Scala ad Caelum wouldn't even be here without you. So please—stop blaming yourself for something you were never going to be able to stop."

The silence rang, a strangely tangible sort of thing that made Skuld's ears ache. She sat there, clinging to the side of a stained glass platform, and breathed out a long, painful breath. "We want you back," she added. "If that counts for anything."

For several moments, there was nothing to answer her. And then—

Something shifted underneath her hands.

It startled her so much that she nearly fell off the platform. She released it, scrambling backward, and watched as some of the shadows started to crawl away.

Kvasir noticed at roughly the same time; he yelped, throwing himself backward, practically dragging Mimir with him. Sigurd got to his feet more carefully, head turned carefully toward the shadows.

Beneath her, the stained glass glowed, just a little bit brighter.

The shadows stopped moving, after a time; they hovered at the edges of the platform, like they were just waiting for the moment they let their guard down so they could crawl their way back. But they had moved, and that gave Skuld hope, at least a little.

But—

"The cracks are still here," Mimir murmured, carefully toeing at one. "The shadows moved—but these haven't healed."

They hadn't done anything, as far as Skuld could see—gotten smaller or larger or anything in-between.

"Maybe we could try some sort of healing spell?" Kvasir suggested. His Keyblade flashed into his hands, and he let it hover over one of the cracks, glowing green. The cracks didn't change.

"…Your words reached him," came the whisper of a familiar voice, "but his wounds go deep. You're going to have to go a lot deeper, if you want to wake him up."

Skuld's eyes prickled. "How—?"

"Hey. Hey, something's moving."

Kvasir's voice dragged Skuld's attention away. She turned, head swiveling toward where he stood, his Keyblade lifted uncertainly toward the shadows. On instinct she hurried to join him, holding Master's Defender tight.

She didn't see anything, at first—but she thought she could hear something, a quiet hissing noise that made her ears ache.

The stained glass platform echoed with the sound of the others' footsteps. Mimir and Sigurd crowded close, Keyblades flashing into their hands.

"There's—there's nothing to worry about, right?" Kvasir checked, but his voice shook with unease. "If we're in Brain's heart—"

Another hissing noise—louder, this time. And—

Yellow. Eyes, just barely flickering in the shadows.

"He offered himself as a vessel for Darkness," Sigurd pointed out, "which means—"

Just vaguely, Skuld thought she could see the shadows move.

"Look out!"

Her shouted warning followed an immediate barrier. Something crashed into it, and the others yelped, ducking low like they were trying to protect themselves. The shadows spilled out from around the edges, cascading on either side of the barrier, and Skuld watched as they strained and sputtered against the barrier. They splashed, rolling across the platform like waves, and her throat tightened as they seeped into the cracks.

"He's drowning right now," Ephemer said, his voice close to her ear. "Sinking into the darkness of his own grief and guilt. You're going to have to dive down to the deepest parts of him if you want to pull him out."

"What does that mean?" Skuld whispered, and felt like she was tottering on the edge of a realization.

"It's coming back!" Kvasir shouted. He swung around, his Keyblade glowing bright; the shadows hissed, recoiling, and slipped around the other side.

"It doesn't like the light!" Sigurd added. He swung his own Keyblade, glimmering brightly, and the shadows wormed away from it, making a hissing, clicking sort of noise that reminded Skuld, eerily, of the Heartless.

"It means you have to meet him where he is."

Golden eyes flickered, briefly, high above them. Skuld swung Master's Defender around, and felt the way it burned in her hands. Light bloomed from the tip, and the barrier broke long enough for it to scatter like a star shower across the surface, leaving pockmarks in its surface. It hissed and snarled, swirling away, dipping briefly down the other side of the platform.

"They aren't acting like they used to," Mimir whispered, their expression troubled. "They're…hurt."

A screech; the shadows rose high above them, crashing down like a tidal wave, and Skuld threw up a panicked barrier, listening as her friends shot a volley of spells. They lit up the shadows, sending flashes scattering across her face—but she turned, and watched those golden eyes as they streaked across the platform, turning briefly to look back at them.

Meet him where he is…

"Maybe we can bind it," Sigurd suggested. "At least temporarily."

"But we need to get it out of his heart, right?" Kvasir asked.

"A strong enough light attack, perhaps—"

"It's coming back," Mimir said, and both parties whipped around at the response. Bursts of light exploded from their Keyblades, and the shadows screeched, swirling around and away. Skuld tracked them, watching as they wailed.

(For a moment, all she could see was her friend, golden eyes staring at her from across the Clock Tower.)

Before she could think about what she was doing, the barrier went down.

She could hear the sounds of her friends protesting behind her—but they'd started to fade, dimming into white noise. All she could focus on were the shadows, and those glowing eyes as they swiveled around, tracking after her movements.

Master's Defender burned and screeched, and with a tug of her magic she moved, diving into the darkness.

---

-"Are you dead?"

Darkness, for all the problems that they caused, is surprisingly good at keeping themselves together. Maybe it is because they are trying to protect themselves; maybe they simply have nothing else to cling to. It doesn't matter; it means that he can think, and maybe he does not feel like he is all there right now, but it is easier to hold onto thoughts and piece them together.

Darkness moves as he does, sticky and formless, and he is not sure how he feels about the fact that it's familiar. "No," they say after a moment. "We are not like you; we cannot die."

He barks out a laugh, and he thinks of a data Daybreak Town and of a friend used as a vessel and of a sacrifice that tasted like ash. "You're here with me."

"Yes—but it is not a permanent thing. We wax, and we wane. Sometimes the World falls quiet, and we weaken, and descend into slumber; other times, hearts call out to us, and we answer, feeding on their desires. You have forced a dormancy—but inevitably, we will waken, when the World calls for us again."

"So none of this mattered." Another laugh, bitter and tired. "Of course."

"We would not say that. You have bought your friends time. Is that not worth something?"

A shaky sigh. "I just thought—"

(That maybe he could be the only sacrifice. That once he was gone, no one would lose anything else like this.)

(That maybe for once, for once, he could actually do something right—but even this, it seems, wouldn't be enough. A pointless death—a wasted second chance.)

There is silence, but he can feel Darkness shifting through his thoughts, handling them carefully, and he does not bother trying to stop them; there is no point anymore, he thinks, especially not here, when there is very little left either of them can do to each other.

When Darkness speaks, they are gentle. "Little Light—there is no world where we do not walk at your heels. We are there in the jealousy of another's success. In pangs of hunger, or the exhaustion of sickness. Even in the kindest worlds, we trail after you in the grief of lost loved ones, and the petty arguments with friends, and the aches of old age. We are as fundamental to the World as our counterpart, and can no more be separated from it than they can."

"So there's no point in fighting it, huh?" It feels like exhaustion, weighing heavy, and suddenly he feels like sinking back down below the waves. "No matter how hard we try, you'll just keep dragging us down."

"Perhaps. Where there is love, there will be grief; where there is joy, there will be loss; where there is courage, there will be fear. Sometimes, you will find yourself fighting and fighting and fighting, and it will feel as if there is no way forward. But we are not the only force in the World."

He thinks, for a moment, that he sees a flicker of a friend, staring down Darkness, and uttering very similar words back to them. And then—

(He sees himself. He is back in Daybreak Town's Clock Tower, sitting at the meeting table. His friends are there, and they are laughing; the meeting has dissolved, Ven and Ephemer folding paper airplanes and throwing them at the rest of them, and even Lauraim has seemed to be dragged into the nonsense. He is laughing, and there is something lighter in his chest than he can ever remember feeling.)

(He sees himself. He is in Meili's apartment, and he is trying to cook with help from Skuld and Kvasir and Mimir. He can hear Meili scolding them, exasperated, and his heart still aches, and he can still feel the way guilt sits heavy in his chest, but—this is nice. It is only a moment—they have Darkness to worry about, and the bluebloods—but then, it's still a moment.)

(He sees himself. He is out with his friends, exploring the streets of Scala as the citizens start to set everything up for the Founder's Festival. There is grief hanging over him, heavy at the knowledge of what he plans to do. But for a moment, there is laughter, and there is joy, as his friends tease him using masks made in his image, and play games while they wonder, and Skuld shoves him into the fountain and he chases after her. He wishes that life could always be like that.

…He grieves the idea that he may never see it again.)

"There is no World where we will ever leave you. You may always find yourself facing your guilt, and your grief, and your anger, and one day, it may swallow you. But Light is just as close, even if only in small moments. Whether that is worth it, we cannot say."

---

-Skuld was falling.

She didn't know how long she'd been doing so; time felt suspended here, an eternity passing in an instant. There wasn't anything to mark her passing by; everything was shrouded by darkness, the shadows brushing past her cheeks like water, catching sticky against her shoulders and stinging her eyes. She felt like she was going to choke on it, holding her breath almost on instinct. But still she went, kicking her feet like she could swim through the shadows, diving deeper and deeper into the unknown.

She couldn't see her friend, but in a strange way, she thought she could feel him—guilt and grief and exhaustion, pressing against her chest or brushing against her sides; when she blinked, she thought she could see flickers of him, his shoulders bowed, bent exhausted over a table.

She kicked a little harder, and Master's Defender started to warm, like it could sense Brain's presence, too.

I'm sorry.

The voice was everywhere, and nowhere; it wrapped around her and pressed into her ears, a sensation that echoed deep inside her, and she couldn't really hear him, but she knew. Brain.

I wish I could take it back. I'm sorry. I never meant to—

It's okay, she thought back to him, because she wasn't sure if she could get her mouth to work. It's okay, just—please come back.

…I'm so tired.

Skuld's breath stuttered a little. Her chest ached. It felt like the shadows were trying to pull her back, wrapping around her arms and legs and chest and slowing her down. She fought harder, kicking and tugging, and Master's Defender glowed.

And something responded.

It didn't take long to notice the difference, in the shadows—the flicker of light, colorful light finally starting to peek through the murk. It patterned across her face and made her eyes ache, but it felt warm, like sunlight after a storm. If she squinted, she thought she could see—

(Stained glass. It reminded her, painfully, of Daybreak Town—of the laughter of her friends, and of warm light reflecting off the meeting table, and of joy and grief and home.)

Her free hand stretched out. Her eyes stung, but she reached; the light flickered between her fingertips, like she could grab ahold of it, if she just tried hard enough. It cleared away some of the shadows from around her face, and she managed, finally, to shout her friend's name: "Brain!"

The light flickered, and spread; it trickled warm between her fingertips, almost a physical thing, and Skuld had to scrunch her eyes shut as she fell into it. Something rushed past her face like a warm wind. And then—

Birdsong. The quiet rush of the ocean, just noticeable in the distance. The trickle of a fountain, much closer. Something solid settling under her feet. Voices raised in excitement or exasperation, echoing across the streets. The warmth of sunlight, painted across her upturned face.

She half expected to see Scala ad Caelum when she opened her eyes. But as her vision adjusted, she found herself staring at blotches of warm colors, Keyblade wielders her age rushing through the streets, and a very different fountain standing against the colors of daybreak.

Her breath caught. Her knees wobbled, and she stumbled under the sudden weight of unexpected emotions, her eyes stinging. She hadn't realized just how deeply she'd missed Daybreak Town until she was seeing it again; it dug into her bones like an ache, settling like a missing piece into a slot beside her heart. It looked the same as it had before it'd fallen—the same colorful buildings, the same shops, the same wielders rushing through the streets. She could recognize several of them—some Dandelions, some old party members she hadn't seen since before the Keyblade War, some people she remembered seeing around constantly until they'd just disappeared one day. It made her feel like the person she'd been before…everything—before the Keyblade War, before becoming a Union Leader, before arriving in Scala ad Caelum. Here, she was just herself—an aspiring Keyblade wielder, hopeful about the future and excited for the sort of role she could play in it.

Her legs started moving almost without her consent. They dragged her through familiar streets, a bittersweet sort of ache in her chest. There was the little clearing where she and Ephemer would sometimes train after missions; there were other wielders there now, laughing as they shot harmless spells at each other. There was the Moogle shop, the Moogle still shouting about their wares to somewhat nervous wielders; she hadn't entirely known what to make of them, back when she'd first gotten her Keyblade. There was her favorite bakery, and the library, and—

And this was home, so lovingly preserved that it felt like it was real.

But Daybreak Town fell, a long time ago.

The reminder made her chest ache, and she had to take a moment to steady herself. She didn't want to think about it; she felt like she could stay here forever, if she was allowed to.

And, she imagined, so could Brain.

She took a shuddering breath, then straightened. Her hand tightened around Master's Defender, and she whispered, "Lead me to him."

Master's Defender hummed; in the back of her mind, she thought she could see—

(A bench. A tree casting shade. A stack of books, and it made her want to laugh, because of course he'd be reading, even here.)

It was a strange sort of knowing that turned her feet; she turned, and found herself weaving through the familiar streets, drawn on by a bone-deep certainty. The bench could have been just like any other, and yet there was something in her that whispered, This. This is the right way. And so she listened, her friend's Keyblade warm in her hands.

And then there he was.

He didn't look quite like the Brain she'd known. He was younger here, his face still rounded with baby fat. He had a long robe and cape that looked too big for him, decorated with patches that looked like he'd sown them in himself. He didn't have his hat quite yet, and his hair wasn't as long, which made it easier to see his wide gray eyes and clear expression.

He wasn't reading. It looked like he might've been, once, a book still lying open on his lap—but his attention was focused on something in front of him. Skuld almost wanted to say something—to draw his attention, to crumble with relief at finding him—but she stayed quiet at the bittersweet expression on his face, and instead let her eyes flick to follow his.

For the second time since she'd gotten here, it felt like her breath had been driven out of her—because there they were. The other Union Leaders. The rest of their family.

Ven was chattering excitedly to Lauriam, who'd bent close to listen with an amused, if vaguely worried, expression on his face. Ephemer's voice lifted to chime in, and Lauriam shot him an exasperated look, but Ven seemed to perk up a little, whipping toward Ephmer and pumping his fists excitedly. Their voices were indistinct—but even if she couldn't make out the words, it made her heart ache to see them there.

I miss you.

The thought came, painful and raw, and she had to bite back on a shaky sob. Their absence felt like a wound newly reopened, aching deep in the hollow of her chest.

"They look happy."

The quiet voice came from beside her—younger and higher than she was used to, but still recognizably Brain's, understood in that strange way that she seemed to understand all things here. When she looked at him, he was watching the others with an open sort of longing, and it made her heart ache a little. "Yeah," she agreed, quiet, and watched as Ephemer and Ven started playing a game of some sort, tossing a ball back and forth that they'd picked up from the street.

"Why aren't you with them?"

Skuld's throat tightened. "I wanted to check on you." After a cautious moment she settled on the edge of the bench. There was just enough room for both of them to fit there, with the pile of books; she wasn't entirely sure if there had been, before. "Why are you just sitting over here?"

Brain tilted his head, face scrunched like he was chasing a thought he couldn't quite catch.

"They'd—they'd be happy to see you, you know. If you wanted to go out and talk to them."

Something in Brain's expression broke, and his eyes welled with tears she didn't expect. For a moment, he looked tempted—but then he shook his head, fingers curling against his pant legs. "No. I'm—I'm okay here."

She wanted to argue, but she didn't press, because she didn't know if she could bring herself to go and see them, either. "Okay."

They sat there in silence, and watched the others as they played. Ven and Ephemer were trying to cajole Lauriam into joining them, it looked like; he was resting against a wall, trying to wave them off, and Skuld could feel the way it made her chest ache. This is what they might've had, if they'd had a chance to stay together; this is what she'd never get to see again.

"…I want to go back."

She thought, for half a moment, that the words were in her head; they certainly echoed what she was feeling, after all. But a second later she registered the child-like voice, and the way its owner struggled against a sob. She tore her eyes away and turned her attention back to Brain; he was leaning forward, arms braced against his knees, and his face was scrunched up, tears staining his cheeks. "I miss them. I want to go back."

It made Skuld's chest ache, the words echoing a familiar feeling. "So do I, sometimes." The 'sometimes' surprised her, and it made her falter; in the space between it and her friends' memory, she could feel…something else.

"No you don't," Brain said with such conviction it made her bristle. "You're happy here."

"You don't think I miss them, too?" she asked, harsher than she intended to be. "I wanted to find them just as badly as you did. I miss Ven's enthusiasm and Lauriam's worried looks and Ephemer—" Her voice broke, and it felt like something was crumbling with it. "You know I miss Ephemer."

Brain flinched, and he curled in on himself, looking like a chastised child.

"…I never got to see him grow up," she whispered, some of her anger cooling. She watched her friend, his smile bright and eyes bright, and it ached in a bittersweet sort of way. "I lost him once, but when we became Union Leaders, I thought maybe—it felt more permanent, this time. Like we would always have each other."

"But we didn't."

"We didn't." Her fingers curled into her pants, and she rested Master's Defender across her lap to try and steady herself. "I guess—I guess fate just had other plans for us."

"It's dumb."

She laughed, startled by the surprisingly child-like statement, and tried to ignore how wet it sounded. "Yeah."

"I don't know how to let you guys go." Brain's face scrunched up, and his voice started breaking. "You were the only family I had. You were everything, and I don't—tell me how to let you go. Tell me how to be happy without you."

Oh. He—thinks I'm part of this, doesn't he? It struck her with a painful sort of clarity, and her chest ache.

"Maybe I should just stay here." He curled in on himself. "I don't—I don't want to go back to a world without you."

"…I'm still here," she reminded him, quiet, "and I don't want to go back to a world without you, either."

He looked up at her, eyes wide and wet, expression vulnerable in a way she didn't think she'd ever seen before.

"…I don't know if I really have an answer for you," she whispered. "I'm not as 'happy' as you think I am. I still miss them. I still think about what things might've been like, if we'd never—if we'd never had to deal with any of this. If we hadn't been Union Leaders, and if the Keyblade War hadn't happened, and if Daybreak Town hadn't fallen, and we just could've been—"

Been together. It left an absence in her heart that made her feel hollow. "There's so much we'll never get to do again," she whispered, and she could hear the way her voice ached with the thought. "I'm never going to get to hear more of Ephemer's conspiracy theories or go shell collecting with Ven or help Lauriam with his garden. I'm never going to get to know how they changed as they grew, or what sorts of things they struggled with, or—anything."

The game looked like it was starting to come to a close. The others were starting to pack up, and in the distance, it looked like the sun was starting to set.

"I'm sorry," Brain murmured, "about what I said. I didn't mean it."

"I know. You were just—hurt."

He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. His cloak fell around him, nearly obscuring his form entirely. It made him look very, very small.

"But we're never going to get them back. We're never going to get to go back." It was a truth she'd long acknowledged, but it still hurt, whenever she had to say it out loud. "That's—that's the reality. And—life goes on, anyways."

She thought of Sven, reminiscing about his old home, but seeming to have found happiness as a dock worker. She thought of Runa, terrified of losing another home, but having navigated her life long enough to find a place as a storykeeper. And—and she thought of Meili, and Kvasir, and Mimir, and of their laughter and teasing. She thought of the potential of a future, and it made the ache of her missing friends dull, just a little.

She would never be able to replace them. There would always be a little piece of her heart that belonged to the other Union Leaders. But—she thought she could still be happy, maybe. With time.

…She wondered if maybe that was what Brain needed to hear, too.

The others left, slipping down an alleyway. Maybe it was wishful thinking, when Ephemer stopped at the entrance, to believe that he'd turned to look back at them. He flashed the ghost of a smile, then turned and followed the rest of their friends, and Skuld found herself smiling back, just a little.

"But how are we supposed to move forward when everything's falling apart?"

It felt like the sunlight dimmed a little. The birds grew quieter. There was the quiet sound of something in the distance—a little like wind, picking up slowly, until it just started to echo between the buildings.

Skuld's skin prickled. She snapped to her friend, movement so sharp it made her neck hurt.

Brain still wasn't looking at her; he was looking at the space where their friends had been, and he was shaking, like he was no longer sure what he was supposed to do now that they were gone.

"What—" she started, and then broke off, because she thought she knew the answer to her own unasked question. Thought she might be scared of it. But Brain was still silent, and the way he was perched made her feel on-edge—like she was about to watch him sacrifice himself to Darkness, all over again. And so she pushed the words past the lump in her throat, pressing tentatively, "What do you mean?"

"Everything. Daybreak Town fell, and the Dandelions got trapped, and everybody got separated—and now Scala's falling, too."

There was a creaking, rumbling sound; cracks creeped along the cobblestones, small bits of rock popping out of the streaks left behind. The world was slowly draining of color, purples and oranges and greens fading to a washed-out gray. The wind was rising, growing to a familiar howling in her ears; it sounded like the storm at the end of the world, and her heart thundered at the realization.

"Brain—"

"What are we supposed to do?" Brain's voice rose in a wail, and for as young as it sounded there was still an echo behind it—the screech of an older version of him, just as terrified of what was to come. "I couldn't do anything last time, and—and I couldn't do anything this time, either. I thought I could, but all I did was hurt you."

The skin split along the side of his face. Skuld recoiled, scrambling away as a single golden eye peered back at her. His skin was pale and washed out, and suddenly—

(She was back on top of the Clock Tower, and for half a moment, it was Brain she was facing. He was cloaked in shadows, body twisted into an unnatural shape, teeth gritted as he tried to strain against the tendrils wrapping around his arms and chest. Something struck at her, and she lifted her Keyblade to defend herself.

When she lowered it, she was standing in the lifeboat chamber again, and she was staring into the face of a different friend.

It felt like she couldn't breathe. Something sticky was crawling down her throat, filling her lungs, and she couldn't quite convince her chest to expand. She choked on it, coughing, and stumbled backward into a parry. Everything felt hazy and off-kilter, like she was wandering through a nightmare, and she wasn't quite sure how to find the way out.

"What do you think you can do?" someone screamed, and—she didn't think that was Brain. The voice sounded a lot like hers, and it made her chest tighten, something constricting so hard that she couldn't get it to expand.

Rest, something whispered. It is alright. We have you.

"You were never meant to be here," that same voice hissed, and suddenly there were too-thin hands pressed against her Keyblade, and she was staring up at the specter of herself—of Subject X, the person she was supposed to be, gaunt face twisted into something like disdain, and she found she couldn't look away. "You have always been helpless. No matter how much you change, some things will always stay the same."

"I'm not—"

"Aren't you?" Her ghost's lip curled. "Your friend is dead. Another is trapped—all but gone. The world fell twice, and nothing you did could stop it. You try and try and try to change fate, but in the end, you can't really change anything."

Would it not be easier to turn and run? No one would blame you—after all, this is something that is out of anyone's power.

There were flickers of threads, out of the corners of her eyes. Long, thin strings, trailing with images of different times—pasts and presents and futures she wasn't entirely familiar with. In them, she could see images of all of them—of her, and of Brain, and of Ephemer and Ven and Lauriam, as they would've been if they'd been able to stay back in Daybreak Town. She could see worlds where Scala stayed standing, only to dwindle slowly, drifting into quiet oblivion years and years later. She could see a world where she ended up where she was supposed to be—where she had been launched far into the future, and where she'd been alone and held captive, unable to do anything for years and years and years.)

Something cracked and shifted underneath her feet. She wobbled, stumbling away as she tried to right herself, and between the cracks she thought she could see Subject X flickering. Behind her, she could see Brain. He looked—he looked a lot like he had just before he'd died, golden eyes and tearing skin and shadows wreathing around him like a storm. The world around him was breaking, the façade of Daybreak Town peeling away to reveal a tattered Scala ad Caelum.

"I was helpless." The words rang; Skuld could hear the way voices intertwined, Brain's and Subject X's and others', all twisting around each other in an eerie sort of chorus. "I couldn't do anything to stop the end of the world, and I don't know if I can do anything to fix things now. What am I supposed to do if I go back? How do I know things aren't just going to just fall apart again? How am I supposed to be happy when I know it was at the cost of everyone else?"

It was a painfully familiar sentiment, and she felt it wrenching something deep inside her. It felt like yelling at the statue of a dead friend, screaming about how unfair it was that he'd left again. It felt like waking up in an unfamiliar world, and finding herself struggling against people who should be allies, and staring at the ghosts of people who she thought she should be able to trust. It felt like finding out Darkness was still here, and being entirely uncertain of what she was supposed to do to stop it.

It felt like staring at a friend, and wondering what she could do to save him.

"What are we supposed to do about the bluebloods?" Brain asked, shouting desperately into the silence. "What if they don't stop fighting?"

She didn't know.

"How are we supposed to rebuild, after everything Ephemer created fell apart?"

She didn't know.

"How am I supposed to look at anyone if I come back alive?"

"I want you alive," she snapped before she could think about it, and the anger didn't really surprise her anymore when it boiled stronger. "And you're not the only one who's going to have to deal with this."

She watched him falter. The shadows still snapped and swirled around him, but he was staring at her now, silent.

"Scala ad Caelum fell—but Daybreak Town fell, too, and Ephemer rebuilt that. We have a whole world of people to help us."

The storm still raged; something cracked near her side, and she tried not to flinch away from it.

"The bluebloods might not fight anymore—not after seeing the destruction their fighting caused. But if they do, we have people to help us—Meili and Frigga and the others. Things can change—it just might take a while."

He watched her, and there was something in his expression like hope—like he wanted to believe her, and couldn't quite bring himself to.

"And—and none of this was your fault. You helped save their world. If anyone has a problem with you—then they can argue with me about it. You included."

(She could still see the threads, shifting there. For a moment, she thought she saw Subject X again, standing between them. There were so many futures there—so many visions where they didn't succeed, and the worlds fell, and they ended up lost and alone. But also—

There were futures where they were happy. Ones where Ephemer was laughing with a partner she didn't know, but he was smiling, lifting a child as they giggled. Futures where Brain maybe didn't entirely heal, but he'd found friendship in surprising places, and even if things weren't perfect, he seemed content. Futures where even Subject X was happy, tentatively reaching out to reform connections with Ven and Lauriam, and even if those relationships weren't the same as they had been, they were still worth rebuilding.

Futures where they could be happy—all of them, here, and maybe there would still be difficulties, but there would always be struggles, no matter what happened. And she didn't want to throw away those futures just because they'd be difficult.

She lifted her head, and met the eyes of her specter. I'm not helpless here, she thought with a venomous sort of ferocity. Maybe I'm not able to change fate on a grand scale—but I can change mine. I can choose my future—and I'm going to fight for it.

Do what you can, right?)

The world cracked and rumbled. There was a low humming, buzzing sound, and when her head snapped upward, she saw the storm, swirling overhead, glowing red and dangerous. "Brain—"

He wasn't speaking anymore; he was curled in on himself, head bowed, and the shadows whipped around him. They cracked against the cobblestones, and she watched as the streets split and broke, debris trailing skyward.

"Brain!"

He lifted his head, just a little.

The shadows lashed. Skuld scrambled backward, darting just out of range. She stared across the street at her friend; he felt, suddenly, very far away. She found herself wondering if, maybe, she couldn't save him at all; it felt like she was always leaving friends behind, no matter how hard she tried.

Still. She wasn't going to give up without a fight. And so she lunged, kicking across the street, and ignored the way the storm struck at her.

One hop. Then another. Her feet struck cobblestone after cobblestone, jumping across them as they started to rise, torn from the streets. She nearly stumbled over one, tripping over her own feet as she reached, fingers stretching toward her friend. He turned, very slowly, to look up at her. His claws drew back, like he was getting ready to fight.

(One of those threads flickered in front of her. She lunged, grabbing it between her hands.)

Skuld slammed into him. He stumbled, claws scrabbling at her—and then stopped, slowly, as he seemed to realize she wasn't fighting him.

Her arms wrapped tightly around him. Master's Defender hung limp, dangling toward the street. Her fingers curled into Brain's jacket, tight. "I don't have all the answers," she whispered. "I don't think anyone does. But—I want you to come home. Please."

Brain stood there, very carefully still. It was like he'd frozen, entirely uncertain of what he was supposed to do.

"There's so much we still have to do, and—and the others would want you to be happy. They wouldn't want you to cling to the past forever."

She could feel the way his breath sucked in—a stuttering thing that rattled in his chest. "How…"

He trailed off, and she didn't try to fill the silence. The world was slowly growing quiet, the darkness falling into careful strips around them, as Brain, finally, found the words:

"How am I supposed to move on? How am I supposed to go forward without all of them? How do I go forward when…?"

He trailed off, and Skuld just hugged him tighter, burying her face in his jacket and trying to ignore the way the shadows stung her cheeks. "Together," she whispered. "Together, with all of us."

Claws wrapped, hesitantly, into the back of her shirt. "I'm scared."

"So am I." Her voice caught. "I don't—I don't know if the bluebloods are going to stop fighting, even after this. I don't know how much it'll take to rebuild Scala. I don't know if people will ever stop looking at us differently. But—but I still want to fight for it. I want to build a home, and make friends, and explore—and I want to learn more about Scala and what Ephemer's life was like, and I want to maybe check out more about what Keyblade training is like now, and I want to see worlds rebuild. And—and I want to get to know the others better. I want to know more about Mimir's like, beyond their connection to my friend—did you know they had a friend they lost, before we met them? I want to know more about the good part of Kvasir's family. And—and I want you to be there, too. I want to keep hearing you tease me and pester you when you stay up too late and explore other worlds with you and—"

She broke off, and it felt like the storm around them was quieting. The shadows had started to fall away, drifting down around their shoulders. The world wasn't rumbling anymore, and it helped Skuld to feel just a little bit steadier.

"And I know it's going to be hard," she whispered, finally. "I know we'll probably fight, and that we'll have a lot of work to do to create a home again, and that the bluebloods may never stop targeting us—but I don't want to keep living like I'm afraid of the future."

Brain was quiet, and the world had grown quiet with him. The shadows were, very slowly, starting to lift; between them, she thought that maybe she could see a hint of sunlight, peeking through the clouds. "I thought my future was going to be different," he whispered finally. "When I met all of you—that was all I wanted. I wanted to save the world mostly just…so I could spend my life with all of you."

Skuld's throat tightened, and she clung tightly to her friend, trying to ignore the way her eyes stung.

"And when I failed—" He broke off, choking on something that sounded like a sob. "I don't know what to do. I don't—I chose you. I chose you, and I let other people die, and even at the end I still wanted—how am I supposed to live with that? Knowing…?"

It was a strangely familiar feeling, and she pulled away a little, even if she didn't let go of her friend entirely. "We were…all helpless, in the end. Some things are just…too big for us." Her smile turned a little bitter. "Everyone keeps saying that I 'changed fate' to bring myself here, but I couldn't stop the end of the world, either. I think it's just…too much for anyone."

She finally let herself look out at the broken world. Scala ad Caelum was in shambles; the cobblestones were cracked, streets rising high above where they were supposed to be, and buildings leaned against each other. She wondered if Ephemer had stared at a broken Daybreak Town, and felt the same sort of helpless feeling she had.

"I think," she whispered, and she heard the echo of old advice, "that all you can do is…try and move forward. Find what you can do, and do that. And—and when things are too big for you to handle—you have other people to help you." She looked at him, and waited until he met her eyes. "I'm going to keep telling you it wasn't your fault until you believe me. And—and until you do—I'm going to be there to help. All of us are. If you let us."

He looked at her like he couldn't quite believe what he was saying—and then he laughed, incredulous. "Of course you'd say that."

"Listen this time—okay?"

"…I'll try."

It dawned on her, slowly, that things were growing lighter. That Brain was growing lighter, and it made her chest tighten as she notice the motes of light trailing around him. "No," she breathed, scrambling to grab him. "No no no—Brain, don't—I can't—"

"It's okay."

"I can't lose you again." She looked at him, desperate. "Brain, please—"

"Skuld. It's okay." One hand gripped hers—firm this time, not the weak, struggling grasp of someone who was fading away again, and she lifted tearstained eyes to meet his. He was smiling, soft, even if the pained edge hadn't really left his eyes. "I'll be okay."

…She could see through him now, she realized. He didn't feel all there anymore, the edges of his jacket wispy, and she tried to cling to them as they trailed through her fingers.

"I'm still here." His voice came as a whisper—but there was laughter in it, and she wanted to yell at him, almost, for the amusement. "It's my heart, remember?"

"You—but how am I supposed to—"

Master's Defender hummed, quiet. She clutched it tighter, sucking in a breath as she saw—

(A cliff. A grassy edge, overlooking an ancient building. And a flickering star, waiting on top of it.)

She thought she saw the flash of a smile. "Think you can go a little longer to find me?"

"You aren't giving me a choice," she pointed out.

He laughed, but it was a tired, sad sort of thing. And then he was gone, light motes cascading up toward the clearing skies.

The world had grown quiet. She thought she could hear the sound of birds in the distance. The skies were growing brighter, sunlight peeking through the broken clouds.

With a steadying breath, Skuld pushed herself to her feet. Her legs felt wobbly, and her chest felt heavy, but she forced herself to stand tall. Just a little more. Just a little longer. "Lead the way," she whispered.

Master's Defender hummed. Something flickered up ahead—and when she looked up, she thought she could see the specter of a friend, red scarf bright against the backdrop. With a small smile he turned, and Skuld turned to follow—first at a walk, then a run, her legs pounding as she ran to find her missing friend.

---

-"Brain!"

"Skuld?"

He does not have a head to lift, but he feels like he tries, anyways, and he can sense Darkness doing something similar; they turn, and he can sense a familiar heart, approaching on the horizon. Reaching for him. Trying to bring him home.

She came looking for me.

"…Your friend is calling." He can feel Darkness curling around him, and it feels surprisingly gentle.

"She's here," he whispered, and it made something in him ache. "She's—"

(She's looking for him.)

(He hurt her.)

(He misses her.)

He falls quiet, and it pricks with a thousand memories, bundled into a tangle of feelings he isn't sure he can parse apart. "What do I…do?"

"What do you want to do?"

(He thinks of missing friends. He thinks that might be an ache that never goes away—that he will never stop grieving the people he's lost, or the home they had, or what they could have been.

But. He also thinks about the fact that he'd been able to make those memories to begin with. That even if they did not last, he could still hold them close, however painful.)

(He thinks of watching a world fall, and running from it, and from the people he was supposed to protect. He thinks of the guilt—the way it felt like it was crushing him. The idea of responding to Skuld's call makes that guilt feel heavier, and he feels like he will crumple under the weight of it.

But he also thinks of Skuld's grief as she cried over him, and the fact that she came looking for him, despite the danger, and there is a different type of guilt there, because he does not want to hurt her like that again.)

(He thinks of Scala ad Caelum, and of how hard everything felt there. Of the bluebloods' scheming, shadows of his friend—people that he wished so desperately that he could trust, and that just seemed to want to use him for their own ends. Of the broken world, torn apart by Darkness, and how hard it would be to rebuild. Of the people there, staring at him like he was some sort of legend and not seeing the person underneath. Of how lonely it was, and how everything seemed to tear open old wounds.

But he also thought of his friends. He thought of the potential for new memories, and of laughter, and of bonds tentatively forged. Of the potential for joy—fragile, maybe, and fought and struggled for, but still there.)

"I want to—see them," he whispers. "I want to—I want to spend more time with them. Make Kvasir a Spirit pet. Get better at sign with Mimir. Go shopping with Skuld to find ridiculous knick-knacks to put in an apartment. I want to—I don't want to see that look on her face again. The one she had when I died."

Darkness is quiet, and he can feel them watching him.

"I want to live," he admits, finally. "I want to live for them."

"Then go. They are waiting."

He is not sure if he can move—but he tries, because he can feel Skuld reaching for him, and he reaches back, and it feels warm.

"Good luck, Little Light. We hope you have many more interesting stories to tell. And when it is time to rest—we will be waiting."

Something finally catches him, and it feels like coming home.

---

-For a while, all she could see were ruined streets. Skuld jumped and scrambled over broken cobblestones, dodging around fallen buildings. Her legs and lungs ached, but her eyes were locked on that flickering bit of red, and she could feel Master's Defender burning like a promise.

Very gradually, the scenery started to change. Grass started to poke up between the cobblestones. The buildings thinned, growing fewer and fewer until there were none at all. The sound of the sea faded, and she smelled cool mountain air, rather than the salty tang. The world opened up before her, and she couldn't see Ephemer's ghost leading her anymore, but she didn't think it mattered; there was something in her chest singing that he's close, he's close, you just need to go a little bit further—

Her feet pounded against the grass. She ran and ran and ran, and the world passed by her in a blur, chest aching and eyes stinging until—

A tiny flicker of light. The edge of a cliff, overlooking a mountain range. A well-worn trail, leading up the side, and the hint of an old castle, down below. And a single star, hovering right on the edge.

Skuld slowed, and she felt something welling in her chest. For a moment, she couldn't quite bring herself to move; all she could do was stare, eyes wet, and stare.

Master's Defender twitched, just a little, as if to ask, Well? Are you going?

It tugged her legs into motion. She approached—slow now, eyes fixed on that ever-flickering waypoint, half convinced that if she looked away, it'd disappear.

The star seemed to brighten, just a little, as she drew close.

Master's Defender disappeared with a quick flick. Skuld knelt, carefully cupping the star. "Brain?" she asked, voice wobbly.

An exhausted laugh; the star spun a little, flickering brighter. "Should've known you'd come to find me."

She smiled, despite herself. "I'm pissed at you."

Another laugh. "Seems fair."

She shifted so that she could sit, carefully cradling the star in her lap. Warmth radiated from the edges, spreading across her palms, and it tugged at something painful in her chest. Seeing him like this made it feel so much more real. "…You really died."

"…Yeah." It sounded like that was slowly settling in for him, too. "Plan worked out, I guess."

"Brain," she started, "you—"

She broke off, and Brain didn't try to fill the silence; he waited patiently while she tried to collect her words.

"Back—back when—up at the top of the Clock Tower—you—" She broke off, and it felt like she couldn't quite catch her words; everything felt fuzzy and painful, a haze of emotions she wasn't quite sure how to process. Eventually, she settled for the simplest question: "Why?"

"Thought Darkness explained it."

"I want to hear it from you."

There was a pause, but she could feel a flicker of emotions, just barely trailing across her palms—grief and fear and gratitude and other things she wasn't sure she could name. "Guess that's fair," he said finally, and she waited as he seemed to try and collect himself, sorting through his own thoughts. "I thought…it was the only way."

Skuld's throat tightened, but she didn't say anything.

"It—I wasn't—I couldn't. Let go of what happened. And I thought I could—make up for it. For failing." A pause—and then, quieter: "And I was tired. I didn't know how I was supposed to go forward, and I thought—this way I wouldn't have to."

Skuld's eyes stung, and she swallowed back her protests, but she brought the star a little closer, giving her friend as close to a hug as she could manage.

He laughed, and it sounded bitter. "Tried to convince myself you'd be alright—but I think I always knew it'd hurt. I just thought—" He broke off, and she wondered if he'd stop there, but after a moment he seemed to steel himself and press: "I didn't think it'd hurt as much as it did."

"Brain—"

"Kind of realized my mistake." It sounded dryly amused, but there was something bitter there, too. "I'm sorry. I—" He broke off, and then another bitter laugh escaped him. "Fuck. There really isn't anything to say for myself, is there?"

It made something inside Skuld feel like it was breaking. She tried to protest, and her words broke into a sob. It cracked against the back of her ribcage, and her chest shuddered with it as she tried to compose herself, again and again and again. She lowered her head, letting it rest close to Brain's star, and she could feel his grief and regret and longing, flickering across her palms. She wanted to hug him; to know that he was all there, and not—

(She could still feel the way his blood stuck to her hands, and how light he'd gotten before he'd disappeared. Still feel the way Master's Defender had gone into his chest, and hear the broken rattle of his breathing. It felt imprinted on her, carved deep into her bones, and she wasn't sure the memory would ever go away.)

But for the moment, this was their reality: one broken star, and a specter of a friend, coming to try and fix things.

"…Skuld," Brain started, hesitant, after her sobs had quieted, "what are you doing here?"

She thought it was obvious. "I'm bringing you home."

"Don't think it's really possible to bring back the dead."

"It is if you know the right people," Skuld said with a wry grin—but it faded a little, and she stared at the star with a stinging sort of grief. "…Do you want to come home?"

She could feel his surprise, and she had to barrel onward before she lost her nerve. "I want you to come back. All of us want you to come back. But—but I know you're tired, and hurting, and—and if you want to rest—I understand." Her eyes stung; the words felt like they were tearing something out of her, and she forced herself not to add anything, fingers curling carefully around the star.

He spun a little, and she caught a flicker of amusement. "I can feel your emotions, too, you know."

She gave him a wet smile. "Good. Maybe you'll know I'm serious, then."

Brain gave a quiet hum, but then fell silent; she could almost feel him thinking, and the idea that he had to think about it at all made her chest feel thick with grief. But—she thought she owed him this. If he wanted to—to stay here—she'd let him. No matter how much it hurt.

Light flickered. It took her a moment to realize it wasn't just the star's normal glow; it grew brighter, and brighter, until she had to squint her eyes closed and turn away from it.

And then something solid was wrapping around her—solid and warm and real. It took a moment for her vision to clear; a moment longer to realize who was leaning into her, arms wrapped firmly around her back, forehead pressed against her shoulder. "Yes," Brain whispered. "Yes. I want to go back."

Skuld's throat tightened, but despite everything, she smiled, her eyes stinging. "Okay," she breathed. "Okay."

Master's Defender came back with an easy call. She thought, when she looked over Brain's shoulder, she could see Ephemer watching, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

She managed a smile back. "Let's go home."

---

-(A rush of magic. A flicker of warmth. The sensation of water, washing over them. Several lights, flickering in the shadows, and darkness slowly pulling away. There was, very briefly, the image of a stained glass platform, softly glowing—and then they were moving, up and up and up, drawn away by a familiar sort of magic, and dragged back toward the sky.)

---

-Skuld opened her eyes to a hazy sort of darkness. A weight settled into her arms, and she clutched it toward her chest, arms slipped around someone else's. She tried to suck in a breath almost instinctively and inhaled water. She coughed, nearly panicking, bubbles floating across her face. Other figures flailed around her, panicking in the sudden water.

A faint light flickered overhead. Shadowy shapes moved past her, reaching frantically upward, and she kicked toward it, too, tugging her friend upward with her.

Her head broke water, and several sets of arms reached to help pull her onto solid ground. Someone reached to take Brain from her, but she didn't let him go until they were solidly out of the water—and even then, she still had a hand fisted in the back of his jacket.

He looked as exhausted as she felt. Water dripped off his hair and clothes, and he was bent over, hands pressed against the ground. But he glanced at her, and he laughed, incredulous, like he could hardly believe he was here. Skuld could hardly believe it, and she laughed in unison, giddy with relief as she pulled him into a tight hug. You're here. You're okay.

We can go home.

"You did it!"

Skuld barely had a chance to register Kvasir's joyful shout before he'd tackled them, sending them both sprawling across the water.

"Careful," Brain protested, but Skuld just laughed harder.

"You're okay." Kvasir squeezed them both tight, practically dragging them back into a sitting position all on his own. "We were so worried and we didn't know what happened when Skuld decided to just dive into the shadows—"

"Kvasir—I'm fine," Brain said, but there was something almost fond in his voice.

"Technically you're still dead," Mimir pointed out, quiet, a moment before they'd joined the hug, their arms wrapped around the two of them just as tightly.

"…Alright. I suppose there's that." After a moment, he stretched his arms to wrap around all of them, too, and Skuld found herself smiling, despite the circumstances. "But I'm guessing all of you have a plan for that."

"Would we ever rush into something without a plan?" Kvasir asked with a grin.

"Yes."

"We do know what to do," Sigurd interrupted wryly; he didn't join the hug, but Skuld got the impression he was smiling behind his mask. "Master Luxu…gave us some insight."

"Luxu, huh?" Brain laughed, and exhausted sort of thing that reflected on his face. "Guess he really didn't plan to ever go through with things."

"And he shouldn't have." Skuld pulled out of the hug enough so that she could punch his arm.

"Hey."

"You died." Her relief was stronger than her anger, but that didn't mean that it wasn't still there—or the fear. "You—if Luxu hadn't told us what to do—you would be—" She broke off, because it was a reality she didn't really want to think about.

Brain's expression fell a little, softening with exhausted guilt and grief. "…Yeah," he agreed, quiet.

There was silence, for a moment, the weight of the situation settling across them—but then Skuld deflated, leaning her head against his shoulder, and Brain wrapped his arms around her in a much gentler hug. "Just…don't do that again, okay?"

The hug tightened, just a little. "I won't." A thread of amusement entered his voice, and he added, "Besides, you'd just come and drag me home again."

"She'd better not."

Skuld smiled, and Brain snapped around, eyes widening just a little. "Chirithy?"

They marched toward their small group, eyes scrunched like they were trying to look stern. "This was dangerous. And you—what were you thinking? I take my eyes off you for a little while, and—and you get into trouble!"

Brain's expression softened. "Sorry." He reached out a hand, placing it gently on top of their hat, and ignored their startled noise. "Guess I fell apart without you there to help."

Chirithy's eyes welled, their stern demeanor falling away. They launched themself at him, and he wrapped them in a tight hug, laughing quietly. "I missed you," they said.

"Missed you, too."

Skuld smiled, eyes stinging a little. Her Chirithy padded closer, crawling into her lap, and she pulled them closer, hands tight around their waist.

For a moment, all of them sat there in companionable silence, and Skuld allowed herself a moment to breathe. It felt, for the first time in a long time, that things might finally, finally turn out okay.

"So," Brain asked, "what now?"

"You go home."

Skuld's breath caught. She'd been hearing that voice ever since they'd come here, guided along by Master's Defender's ghosts—but Master's Defender had been dismissed, and she watched as the others responded to a voice they hadn't noticed before, Brain's eyes widening and Mimir's expression turning almost heartbroken.

Skuld whipped around, expecting to see another star, hovering just above the water's surface. Instead she saw Ephemer, looking just as he did when she'd last seen him, giving all of them a soft sort of smile. He lifted his hand in a wave. "Hey."

Her eyes stung. In barely a moment Skuld had shot to her feet, sprinting across the water and throwing herself at her friend. He laughed as he caught her; she nearly knocked him over, and he protested, "Easy, easy!" as he steadied them both.

"You—are you really—" She broke off, pulling away, and rested a hand against his cheek. He felt real, in a way the stars hadn't.

His smile softened a little. "Yeah. It's me." He laughed, rubbing his head a little sheepishly. "I didn't really expect to see any of you here quite yet, though."

He turned his attention beyond her, something almost exasperated entering his expression; she turned and realized that Ephemer was looking at Brain, who sagged a little under the look. "…Noted."

"…You guys have been through a lot," Ephemer admitted, that exasperated look softening. "So I get it. Just—maybe wait longer next time?"

Brain's expression softened, in turn. "Not planning on coming back any time soon—don't worry."

Hearing the confirmation put something in Skuld's heart at ease, and she relaxed a little, smiling back at him.

"Wait," Kvasir interrupted, looking like he was having a realization. "Wait, are you—" He pointed between himself and Ephemer, looking rapidly between Skuld and Brain for confirmation.

Skuld laughed. "Yeah." She stepped away gesturing. "Kvasir, this is Ephemer. Ephemer, this is Kvasir—one of your descendants."

"I know," Ephemer said with a grin. "I've been keeping an eye on you guys."

Kvasir made a strangled sort of noise.

"Tell us your thoughts," Brain said dryly.

"Yeah," Skuld added, "who's your favorite?"

Ephemer groaned, sagging a little. "Guys, come on."

"I have so many questions!" Kvasir hurried up to Ephemer, and he straightened, looking vaguely perplexed. "I've heard what you were like from Skuld and Brain, but now that I can ask the source…"

She saw Ephemer start to brighten a little at Kvasir's chattering, and respond in kind, and Brain snorted as he watched them. "Think we might be here a while," he whispered.

Skuld laughed a little, but it dawned on her that there were two people who hadn't really approached. Sigurd, she supposed, made sense; he didn't have any particular connection to Ephemer, and was watching from a polite distance. But where is…?

Mimir stood a short distance away. There was a forlorn expression on their face, hands twitching like they wanted to reach out, but weren't sure if they should.

Skuld crossed the space to meet them. They didn't seem to notice her presence until she'd almost reached them, making a quiet noise of protest as she grabbed their hand. "Come on," she whispered. "Talk to him."

"What if he doesn't…?" They trailed off, giving her a helpless look.

"He will."

Hesitantly, they let themself be dragged forward, taking halting footsteps across the water.

Kvasir noticed them first; he turned, eyes bright, and waved them over excitedly. And then Ephemer turned, too, and his expression softened.

Mimir slowed to a stop, hands drawn to their chest.

Ephemer gave them a grin, and then lifted his hands to sign a familiar name. "Or Mimir now, I guess?" he added. "It's nice to see you happy."

Mimir's eyes welled. They threw themself at Ephemer, and he caught them, dragging them into a tight hug. "I missed you."

Something broke in Ephemer's expression, there and gone in a flash. "I'm so sorry—for everything."

"So am I."

Skuld's throat tightened, and when Ephemer opened his arms for her to join the hug, she did. It was a bittersweet thing, to have all three of them together again, no matter how changed.

But then, she knew this couldn't last forever.

After a hesitant moment, Skuld pulled away. "Are you just here to say 'hi' before we leave?"

Ephemer smiled. "Not quite." A Keyblade flicked into his hand—Starlight, not Master's Defender, and she wondered if that was because she still had the Keyblade, or because of the familiarity. "Luxu helped all of you get here—and now, I'm going to help you get home." His eyes flicked across them, sweeping over Brain and both Chirithy. "All of you."

It felt…strangely final. Skuld hadn't expected the prickle of grief—but it wasn't quite as strong as it used to be, she was realizing.

The others clustered close around her. Her Chirithy hopped onto her shoulder, right beside Kvasir's hastily-placed hand; Sigurd's hand went on her other shoulder, and he stood straight, waiting. Mimir's arm link around hers and, after a hesitant moment, Brain gripped her free hand, his own Chirithy wrapped in his other arm.

Skuld took a breath, and lifted her head. "What do we do?"

Ephemer gave her a soft smile. He lifted Starlight, and a faint light started to glow, hazy, at the tip. "Follow your waypoint, and let it guide you home."

She smiled, and the world blurred; she wasn't sure if it was because of the tears, or because of the heavy, sleepy sort of feeling that had started to swamp her. "Right."

The world started to blur. Everything started to grow hazy and light. It felt, a little, like she was coming untethered.

It made it feel a little like a dream when she watched her friend smiling at her. "May your heart be your guiding key."

The world disappeared from beneath her. She fell, but it was a gentler sort of thing than it had been the first time—like she was falling asleep, her friends pressed around beside her.

(…Goodbye, Ephemer.)

---

-Up at the top of a Clock Tower, a man in a black coat watched a broken city. The world had grown dark, a blanket of stars stretching across the sky. A blue eye glinted in his Keyblade; beside it, a star-like charm clinked, glittering faintly.

And then, very slowly, it started to glow.

A distant sort of boom sounded from the sky. The man tilted his head skyward, and watched as a couple of stars flickered, streaking across the sky. "Well. Guess they managed to pull it off, after all."

The charm rattled quietly. The man remained there, unmoving, and watched as the stars fell across the quiet world.

"Welcome home."

---

-The night was quiet. The waves had turned calm, the small rowboat floating lazily on the water's surface. The clouds had cleared, and stars patterned the night sky, bright but cold and distant. Meili had a lantern with them, anyways; it sat on the seat beside them, and every now and again they'd stop rowing and lift it, letting the light spill across the surface of the water.

They didn't know how long they'd been out here. Hours, maybe. They'd trailed across the sea, getting as close to the main island as they dared. They hadn't seen any Heartless, but they were well aware that that didn't mean there wasn't anything there. They had no Keyblade, and they hadn't wanted to take anyone away from their jobs for what was, ultimately, a personal mission.

("Everyone's asleep. I can afford to leave and look for a little while."

Frigga hadn't argued, but there was a pensive expression on her face. "If you would like assistance—"

"Not unless you actually want to come." They waved her off and refused to look at her. "Stay here. Keep everyone calm. I'm not going to get in over my head."

Frigga had given them a look like she'd seen through them, but didn't press. "I will give you until sunrise. If you have not brought them home by that point, I will send a team after you.")

"Come on." They swiveled, the lantern's light scattering across the waves. "Come on. Where did the four of you go?"

Nothing. The waves were as still as they'd been when the boats had left.

Meili made a frustrated noise, and sat back in the boat with a heavy thud. They set the lantern down, reaching for the oars and rowing aggressively. Their arms and chest were aching, and they gritted their teeth and ignored it, because there had to be some sign of the kids, somewhere, and they would keep looking until they found it.

And then a noise broke the still night—a low, quiet boom, and a pop, like an explosion from some distant star. It was enough to turn Meili's eyes skyward, toward the blanket of stars.

Light glimmered between glowing specks; lines streaked across the dark sky, one after another, in what looked like the beginnings of a meteor shower. Meili settled back, breathing out a long sigh. "Right. Of course."

They floated there a moment, just watching, and letting themself rest for a moment. But after a moment they squinted; was it their imagination, or were those stars…?

Shit.

In a heartbeat they were in motion again, gripping the oars and turning the boat, because those stars were coming closer, and running through their mind were stark reminders that sometimes, falling worlds would scatter debris across the cosmos—including other worlds. Of fucking course. Can't just have tragedy on one world at a time.

They tracked the stars, watching as they streaked across the sky; there were five of them, it looked like, rocketing uncomfortably quickly toward Scala. Out there—in the ocean, not too far from the main island, if I've got my trajectory right. They turned their boat, careful to keep it out of the range where they could get hit. Check for people, first—see if anyone's alive. If it's just debris, leave it; it doesn't matter how valuable it is if I've got other things to focus on. I can give Frigga a head's up when I get back.

Light shot overhead, purple-white. It felt too close, and Meili ducked instinctively, one arm going to cover their head. Their eyes snapped outward in time to see the first shape hit the sea; water burst from the impact, stirring the waves and rocking Meili's boat. They gripped the edge, trying to steady themself as another shape hit, and another, and another. When the last one landed, they stood a little straighter, swiping their lantern from their seat and leaning over the edge.

For a moment, the light fell across choppy sea, and nothing more. No shapes moved underneath the waves, and the night was growing quiet again, the glow fading beneath the water. Meili's eyes narrowed, straining.

And then a ripple. A faint flicker of movement. And—

It can't be.

A head burst from the water, and Meili was already turning toward them, voice lifted in a shout so loud it left them hoarse: "Mimir! Kvasir!"

"Meili!" It was Kvasir's voice that echoed back to them, aching with relief. They turned, and they'd never been so happy to see him, their knees nearly giving from the relief of it. Kvasir was swimming toward them, pausing every now and again to wave frantically, like they couldn't see the others in the water—Mimir and Sigurd, dragging and exhausted Skuld and Brain from beneath the waves. All of them were here. All of them were safe.

Kvasir reached their boat, and Meili helped him onto it, dragging him into a half-hug and surprising even themself. Kvasir didn't seem nearly as shocked; he gripped them tightly, head pressed against their shoulder, and they could feel the way he shook. But he barely allowed himself a heartbeat before he pulled away, eyes wet but a grin stretching his cheeks. "Skuld and Brain—w-we're going to need doctors, I think, a-and—"

"I've got them."

Kvasir stepped aside, and Meili gestured as the others drew closer. "He's stable," Sigurd said as he passed Brain to them, "but he should still have someone look at him."

Brain felt surprisingly light, and his clothes were torn and bloody, and there was a nasty, knotty-looking scar across his chest—but he was breathing, and his pulse was steady, and considering everything, Meili would call that a victory.

"She's just exhausted, I think," Mimir said in a hoarse whisper; they nearly clambered up with Skuld, their eyes locked on her worriedly. She wasn't any more conscious than Brain was, and her face was pale; Meili settled her beside her friend, something filling their chest, exasperated but fond. You two— They cut the thought off, glancing at the world behind them—still standing, despite everything. I'm not sure what you did—but stars, at least you're still here. All of you.

The boat rocked as the others settled. Mimir and Kvasir were pressed close to each other, watching their friends; Sigurd perched nearby, like he was ready to help with the oars. Meili could feel something welling in their throat, and they swallowed and tried to ignore it. They could deal with that—later. "Come on," they said, and reached down to grab an oar. "Let's get you guys out of here."

---

-Something rocked very gently beneath her. She thought she could hear the sound of the ocean, and of people talking faintly, and for a moment, she imagined she was back in that field of sea and stars.

Skuld's eyes felt heavy, but she cracked them open, anyways. A blurry shape came into focus: Brain, his eyes half-open, his chest rising and falling with his breathing. His eyes were still golden, and there was still blood on the edges of his shirt, and there was still a mark on his chest from where she'd struck him—but he was whole and breathing and alive, and despite her exhaustion she could feel her eyes welling.

Brain's eyes lifted and caught hers. He breathed, and his chest heaved with the effort. "Hey," he said, voice quiet and hoarse.

She smiled, despite herself. "Hey."

A smile twitched his lips in turn. He lifted an arm and wrapped it gingerly around her back; she pressed her head against his chest, hugging him back, and couldn't quite stifle her sob.

He was home.

They were both home.

---

So the last couple of chapters have been planned for a LONG time—like, 'since the beginning of the story' long—and I've had a lot of chances to set things up. I've, uh, compiled some of the bigger things in a Tumblr post, haha. (Here, without the spaces: : / / corishadowfang . tumblr post / / chapter - 15 - skuld - says - can - you - include # disqus _ thread)

But that aside—I have a couple of other notes on this chapter!

First: the chapter name. I figured it'd be a fun place to namedrop the fic title, haha, because—well, the Final World is LITERALLY filled with fallen stars, haha.

Second: Originally, I loosely planned to have the crew travel through the past (Daybreak Town), present (Scala), and future (the Land of Departure) to find Brain, with each also corresponding with one of the questions that people seem to get asked when they experience a Dive to the Heart ("What's most important to you?" "What are you afraid of?" and "What do you want from your future?/What do you wish?" respectively.) That got altered a little bit, but you can still kind of see the remnants.