Fallen Stars Chapter 39: Darkness Falls, a kingdom hearts fanfic

'What do you do when you're watching your world fall apart?'

Content Warning: This chapter features more of Brain's self-sacrifice scheme, as well as general end-of-the-world stuff and the despair that would naturally follow. I'll include a chapter summary down at the bottom in case anyone wants to check over that before going through this one.

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Darkness Falls

There was chaos, in the streets of Scala ad Caelum.

Some of it was the lingering fights—people who had yet to realize that Aegir and Anders and Lydia and the others spearheading the movement had fallen. Some of it was the Heartless, crawling onto the shore and skittering across the cobblestones, a couple of the wielders on the outer edges of the barrier coming suddenly face to face with them. Some of it was the people still scrambling to get the boats into the water—or get to the boats at all.

There were pockets of quiet: places where the battling had stopped, and where people were quietly talking or cheering or healing the wounded, thinking that the fighting was over. But on the edges, they were starting to hear noises—the sounds of something other, screams and chittering and continued spells, slowly drifting toward them. Those had grown hushed in an eerie sort of way, a near-still silence as they watched and waited and tried to see what was coming toward them.

The clouds were rolling in, overhead. They were dark—darker than they'd normally be, even carrying a storm. There was a tint of red to them, and an eerie stillness, the wind completely silent.

Above everything, a man in a black coat watched, and waited.

-It had taken longer than it perhaps should've for Sigurd to realize there were spells firing overhead.

In his defense, the battlefield was chaotic; there was always another spell to dodge, another Keyblade to block, another ally to try and defend. The last time he'd had to deal with something like this had been—

("Come on, we can take them!"

"I don't—I think we should head back."

"Where's your sense of adventure?")

—had been…elsewhere. And even then, he'd never had to face Keyblade wielders like this. It felt strange, like something out of a nightmare—only real in a distant sort of way, somewhat dizzying in its presentation. So when something had streaked overhead, he had ignored it at first; it wasn't aimed at them, after all, and it was easy for it to blend in, alongside everything else.

But then the burst of light came again. And again. And there was something that sounded like an explosion, muted. And slowly, slowly, the fighting was stopping, people starting to turn their attention skyward with confused expressions and cautiously lowered blades. Sigurd had stumbled a little when his opponent hadn't met his blow, diverting his Keyblade so it didn't dig into his enemy's shoulder.

It was only then that he realized how quiet it'd gotten; he could still hear the sounds of fighting, somewhere in the distance, and the singing of spells, but here, in this small section of the battle, everything had…stopped. The fighters were staring at the sky, or at each other, or mouthing questions they didn't seem to expect to have answers, turning slowly to watch…something. And so Sigurd had finally, finally, turned his attention toward the sky.

The barrier still shimmered overhead, a giant, glass-like dome that glinted with the reflection of magic. But there were pockmarks in its surface now, careful sections pulled down to create openings into the city at large. As Sigurd watched, a spell came shooting from the top of the Clock Tower; it soared through one of those openings, crashing on the other side into something Sigurd couldn't see.

And those spells kept coming—more and more and more, all at a rapid-fire pace, like whoever was sending them out couldn't get them off fast enough.

A slow, nervous feeling trickled down Sigurd's back. Master Brain. He was the one who had put up the barrier; it would stand to reason that he was the one who had made the openings, and who was shooting those spells. But—but why? The barrier was supposed to keep the fighting from spreading. Did it get too far already? Or…?

("There is something trapped beneath Scala ad Caelum, Sigurd. Something dangerous."

He had stared at Frigga then, and even if he hadn't entirely known what she had meant, it had made everything grow cold.

"Left unchecked, it will destroy our home."

"But that's—"

"It has been predicted in the Book of Prophecies: one day, the same Darkness that the Union Leaders fought will break free, and it will swallow our world, just as it did theirs. Life for the other worlds may go on—but ours will come to an end." A bitter smile had curled her face. "It's coming sooner than you'd think."

"I—what—what do we…?"

"I have a plan. I am not going to let my home fall to this thing. But we'll need to be careful, and get every piece into place. Which is why I need your cooperation on this. Do you understand?")

"What's happening?" someone whispered, and it took Sigurd a moment to realize he recognized it: Eir, staring at the sky with a pale expression, light from the spells casting an eerie glow across her face.

"I…don't know," he murmured, even if he had a sinking feeling that he might. "Master Skuld—"

He…couldn't see her in the crowd. His attention snapped from person to person, looking for the familiar armor and finding nothing.

Eir made a pained sort of noise. When he turned to her, she pointed, and he followed her gaze, up and up and up—

And could see, just barely, the hairline cracks forming across the barrier.

The spells had stopped. It registered, dimly, in the back of his mind, but—the area at the top of the Clock Tower had seemed to grow quiet. Whatever frantic worry had driven the attacks had…passed, maybe.

(It felt like something was tightening around his chest. His stomach sank, slowly, slowly, and he could feel the way he'd started to shiver, everything suddenly too cold. Brain was still up there—Brain, who he remembered watching fall asleep because he'd worked himself too hard, who he remembered running himself ragged trying to figure out where his friends had gone, who he remembered searching for Luxu like something had possessed him. Up there alone, unless his friends had noticed, too, and gone to help him.

…He could hope. He could—)

He thought he could hear something…cracking. A slow, creaking noise, like shifting ice or straining glass. Others heard it, too, from the slowly-rising murmurs of worry.

Sigurd didn't entirely think about what he was doing; he threw himself over Eir, the murmurs rising to shouts of alarm as the barrier shattered. It was magic, of course; the shards had dissipated before they ever reached the ground. But that didn't erase the shivering, shaking feeling, unease slowly creeping into his bones.

"Are you okay?" he managed, and he wasn't entirely able to keep his voice steady, but he was at least able to move.

Eir stared up at him, wide-eyed, but nodded; she pulled away, too-wide eyes staring skyward, slowly tracking the missing barrier toward the horizon. "Where's—why did the barrier go down?"

He didn't have an answer to that, either—but despite the foreboding feeling curdling his stomach, he said, "Perhaps—perhaps the fighting's over. The biggest threats have been—taken care of, maybe, and there's—"

"Look!"

"Is that one of the Union Leaders?"

Sigurd had one brief, hopeful moment where he thought it was Brain—where he really was coming down from the Clock Tower, and everything was fine, and none of them had to worry about what might be lurking outside the edges of the barrier. But when he turned, he finally saw the glint of armor—Skuld, then. He watched as she shot toward the Clock Tower, not away from it, another shape beside her, and could feel the way his stomach turned.

Eir didn't say anything. Neither did Sigurd. He wasn't sure what he could say. It's—it's just more bluebloods. More fighting. That's all. We'll—it'll get figured out. It'll be—

("There's really something trapped underneath the city."

His mysterious ally had laughed; it had seemed incongruous with Sigurd's numb statement, but he couldn't find the energy to be angry. "I warned you, kid."

"You—I didn't think—"

"What, you think I'd play that sort of game with you? When you were so desperately asking for someone to bring your brother back?" There was a mocking lilt to the words, but his voice went softer as he added, "Look, I'm not going to say I'm a saint, but I'm not that cruel. Not needlessly, at least. When I said there was something here, I meant it."

"So—that means—"

"Yeah. Kid should be back any time now." The figure paused, then added, "Remember our deal. Keep him away from it. Nothing good's going to come of the two of them getting too close. And if you manage to pull through—we'll see about helping you bring your brother back to life.")

"I don't think the fighting's stopped," Eir whispered, finally. She'd turned, eyes flicking toward the spaces between the buildings, like if she looked hard enough, she could catch sight of the battle. "I can still hear it."

So could he, Sigurd realized. Crashing metal, flying spells, lifted battle cries—and, what he was increasingly realizing, were shouts of alarm.

Some people shifted; their feet moved, altering their positions, Keyblades lifted in wary preparation. Sigurd found himself moving, too, even if he didn't entirely intend to; he gripped his Keyblade with both hands, letting it slowly rise to face the alleyway across from him.

The world seemed…darker than it had before. The space between the buildings was growing heavy with shadows; he squinted, and couldn't quite see through the murk, the distance growing hazier.

Eir tensed; her Keyblade snapped up so quickly the keychain rattled against the blade. "What's that noise?"

It took a moment for Sigurd to catch it: a low, chittering sound, like a swarm of insects coming closer. He almost thought he could hear something scratching, like claws clacking against the cobblestones.

…The screams were growing louder. Some of them almost sounded like words he knew.

(If he looked close, he thought he could see the shadows moving.)

"Heartless!"

Eir's head snapped up. "Kris?"

Sigurd almost didn't dare tear his eyes away from the alley—from the creeping, chittering darkness, from the direction of the terrified shouts—but he could catch a glimpse of a shape, racing over the rooftops, and he finally lifted his head to see a familiar figure. Kris was hurrying toward them, her face creased in panic. "Heartless!" she repeated, voice cracking with the strain. "There are Heartless in the city!"

"What?"

There were others, too—people asking worried questions, making statements about how impossible it was, the wards were up (but they were weak, it was too close to the festival, they were weak)—but Sigurd could barely hear them; he was more focused on the fact that he didn't think the shifting shadows were his imagination, anymore, something rolling in a tidal wave, pinpricks of light flickering from amongst the gloom.

He almost didn't want to do anything; he almost wanted to turn away, to pretend that he was looking at anything else. But there was some logical part of him that understood that he couldn't—that it would be better to face his doom head-on, rather than turn away. And so he lifted his Keyblade, a small ball of fire forming at the tip, and shot the spell into the murk.

It hit something—a small Heartless as it lunged. But, perhaps more importantly, it illuminated others: countless shadowy creatures, spindly legs and too-long arms and bulbous heads, some that looked almost humanoid and others that looked like small, bug-like creatures and others still that didn't resemble anything that Sigurd could recognize at all. Their yellow eyes gleamed, reflecting light they lacked themselves. He thought, for one, terrified moment, that he could hear whispers, the noises rolling over and over each other.

(You're here.

I know you. I remember.

Where's…?

My sister—where is she?

We found you, we found you—

Found you

Found you)

Claws clicked on either side of one of the buildings—first one set, then two, then three, then more, building and building until Sigurd couldn't keep track of them all. There were more Heartless than he'd ever seen before; they blanketed the streets, filling the space between the buildings so thickly that he couldn't make out anything else, heads twisting and tilting in odd ways that made him almost nauseous to look at.

The other wielders had started moving; some had leapt away, scrambling to avoid the sudden wave, but others had shot forward to take their place, firing spells and trying to push them back. "Put up a barrier!" someone shouted. "Contain them!"

Maybe there weren't enough of them to create a solid barrier; maybe whoever had thrown it up had been too shaken, or too low on magic. Whatever the reason, when the glowing, glass-like shield started to form, it did very little to actually deter the Heartless; they crashed over it, claws gouging pieces out, and the wielders had to back up, scrambling to get away from the creatures as they drew closer, closer, closer—

(They were too close, Sigurd realized. Too close, too close, too close, they wouldn't be able to run—)

(None of you made it in time.)

"Sigurd," Eir said, voice pitching in terror.

Kris landed beside them, Keyblade lifted but shaking.

The shadows were rising; they moved, too quickly, too quickly, crossing the open ground like a tidal wave.

"Fight!" Sigurd shouted, and then the first Heartless was upon him.

-The Heartless screeched. Claws reached over the edge of Frigga's Keyblade, jaws snapping. Her back ached, pressed painfully against a wall; she braced both hands against her Keyblade and pushed, trying to force the Heartless off. It almost wasn't effective; she thought that the only reason that the Heartless moved was because it slipped, feet skittering with nothing to find purchase on. It landed on the ground awkwardly—and so did Frigga, without the pressure of anything to hold her up anymore. She caught herself, one hand slamming painfully into the ground, and swung her Keyblade up to fire a haphazard spell. The Heartless screeched, forced away by a burst of fire.

But there were still more—more, and more, and more, all scrambling over the buildings, crawling into windows, tearing through belongings, drawn toward whatever living things they could find. Some had been satiated by pigeons and bugs and other small creatures; she could see the remains of them, bits of feathers and wings scattering the streets, some Heartless still curled over their prizes. But others had been searching for bigger prey.

She didn't know how many other people had been out here; she had tried to draw Aegir as far away from the fighting as possible, so she hoped she was the only one. But that also meant that there was no one here who could help her. This many Heartless would be difficult at the best of times—but she was already exhausted from fighting Aegir, and newly missing a leg, and she'd been so close to the edges of the barrier that she'd barely had time to try and formulate a plan before the Heartless had swarmed her.

One of them moved, surging out of the shadows—a small, humanoid sort of thing, all gangly limbs and strange, hooded head, scrabbling across the cobblestones. A flick of her Keyblade, and lighting struck the streets in front of her; she heard the Heartless wail, some disappearing into smoke.

Something dug into her shoulders; a weight landed on her back, kicking at her spine, and she rolled almost on instinct, trying to dislodge the creature. Another joined it, jumping at her stomach, and another, scrabbling at her arms as she moved, and she found herself remembering old lessons, pressed into her mind over and over and over again by anxious tutors and mission leaders and then repeated herself: "Don't stay down. If a Heartless brings you to the ground, get to your feet as quickly as possible. If you're down, you're dead."

Easier said than done, she griped silently, but with a shout she rolled around, remaining foot braced against the ground, her other leg splayed out to try and give herself some balance. She flipped her Keyblade around, jamming it into one of the Heartless; it wailed as it died, black smoke trailing past her face. With as much force as she could manage, she threw herself back against a wall; something cracked! and the claws on her shoulders released. She dragged herself away, releasing her Keyblade to physically grab the remaining Heartless and toss it away from her.

Almost as soon as she was free, there was another coming toward her waist, her head, her legs; her Keyblade came back to her hands with a furious war cry, and she fired spell after spell after spell, Blizzards and Fires and Thunders and anything she could think of, desperately trying to keep the monsters at bay.

(How many Heartless have made it into the city? she wondered. This is so deep into the main island—how many people have already fallen? How many Heartless are lurking in the streets? How many are getting past me, off to attack someone else?)

With a roar Frigga swung her Keyblade. A barrier went up around her, and Heartless crashed against it. Their claws scrabbled against the edges, but they couldn't break through, and it finally, finally gave her time to breathe.

Everything hurt. Her chest ached, strained from the constant fighting and her near-empty reserves of magic. She could taste something metallic, and she wasn't sure if it came from magical fatigue or blood. The space where the rest of her leg had been ached, a shooting pain going up what remained. Her body was lined with cuts and bruises that were too minor to heal, but slowed her down, all the same. Even her Keyblade seemed to have grown tired of fighting, the ever-present war song dimmed to a quiet, stubborn hum.

But when she stared at the Heartless, her chest ached in a very different way.

She had seen many different Heartless, across her lifetime. She had gone off-world, battled with gigantic, terrifying beasts and swarms of smaller, insect-like things that seemed determined to overwhelm them in sheer numbers rather than in power. She had always been aware that the creatures she fought had been human, once—or at least, living beings of some sort, their hearts lost.

But it was…different, seeing these. These were beings that were created within Scala ad Caelum itself—her people, people that she might've once known or been supposed to protect. These were people that were still wailing for lost loved ones—she could hear them, broken voices in the distance, just human enough that she could imagine people running after them, if they didn't know. And there were so many of them—enough to overwhelm the streets, crawling over buildings like a living blanket, eyes turning to watch her with a blank, hungry sort of expression.

Frigga's throat tightened. We failed you, she thought, staring back at them. She wondered how many of them had been living on those outer islands, for decades or even centuries. She wondered how many they'd lost, because none of them had been able to focus on what really mattered. She wondered if, perhaps, this was justified. How poetic an end, some grieved part of her thought, for our world to fall to the people we failed.

(…She was so tired. She had fought, and she had failed. Perhaps it would be simpler, to give up now—let the Heartless simply claim her, like they wanted. She didn't know what else she could do out here, anyways—and perhaps it wouldn't matter, even if she did.)

In the distance, someone screamed.

Frigga's head snapped up.

The Heartless responded just as quickly; a couple of them turned, chittering quietly, heads tilted like they were considering whether or not to follow the noise, and something in Frigga's chest steeled.

No.

She didn't entirely think about what she was doing; ice formed, crackling, around the edges of her barrier. With a shout, the barrier exploded, jagged edges of ice spearing outward in a large ring. She heard Heartless screeching, voices pitched into terrified wails, and watched as smoke rose up around her. She could feel the strain of the spell on her chest—how it tugged at something empty, her limbs shaking—but she stayed where she was, breath puffing in the cold.

Already, there were Heartless trying to scramble over the edges of her icy barrier; she lifted her Keyblade to fling a Fire spell at one, snapping around to cut through another. I need to…destroy as many as I can, she thought, breathless. Take out as many as possible here. Prevent any more from getting into the city.

It was…likely a useless effort, she knew. There were too many Heartless, and she was too weak. But she would still go down fighting, even if there was very little she could do.

Her Keyblade jammed into the ground. She used it to prop herself up a little, bracing her back against the icy wall. And then she pulled her weapon out, and waited, baring her teeth as the Heartless began moving again. Come on. Try to kill me—see how you fair.

But it wasn't her spell that destroyed the Heartless; the burst of light, warm and bright, didn't have her Keyblade singing, and she had to shield her eyes, ears burning with the noise of countless creatures dying. Her ears were still ringing when she just barely caught someone calling down to her: "Master Frigga, are you alright?"

She blinked, tilting her head upward.

There was a Keyblade wielder standing on the roof. She didn't recognize their face—but then, she probably wouldn't. They were wearing a Keeper's uniform, and Keepers so often kept to themselves.

Frigga nearly laughed, breathless with relief. The Keepers. Of course they would be out, if Scala ad Caelum itself was threatened; they were the world's last defense against destruction. If there were Heartless, they would be there to combat them.

There's still hope. We may not lose our world yet.

Apparently taking her silence as an answer, the Keeper jumped down beside her. They took one look at her missing leg and paled.

"It's healed," she told them. "I'm not in danger of bleeding out." She glanced at her ice walls, then added, "From Heartless, perhaps."

"You should still probably see someone," the Keeper said. They bent, hooking one of Frigga's arms over their shoulders, gripping her waist and helping her stand.

"Perhaps—but we don't have time for that now."

The Keeper looked grim, but didn't argue; they launched themself upward, landing a bit awkwardly on top of a building. Frigga wobbled, but they helped to steady her. "Master Freya is out, I take it?"

"And Freyr, yes." They nodded, and it took a moment to realize they were gesturing in a certain direction—to a figure that resembled Master Freya herself, standing some distance away and watching the hoard with narrowed eyes.

"I assume you have a plan," Frigga said, quiet.

"We do."

"Good. Then let me know what you need. Whatever resources I can give you—they're at your disposal."

-"Keepers!" Freya's voice lifted high above the chattering sound of Heartless, far below. "Shields!"

Light went up around Meili, but their attention was focused less on that, and more on the Heartless crawling across the streets below. Their eyes tracked from them to the docks—to the ships, and the long stretch of darkness that turned the sea black. Even from a distance, they could hear the shouts of alarm. They didn't know if anyone had gone with them—didn't know if they had any way to protect themselves from the Heartless.

This wasn't the first time they'd seen a falling world, and those instincts took over. Damage control. Protect the non-combatants; figure out how many of your forces you can spare, and where they're most useful. "Osmin," they said, almost without thinking. "Bryn. The Keepers have got this here. Get to the docks and help them."

Osmin, thankfully, didn't protest; he nodded, expression grim, and took off.

Bryn, however, hesitated for a moment. "Are you going to be alright?" she asked, shooting an uncertain glance toward Leid and Fafnir and Anders.

"Look, I'm the last thing you should be worried about right now. Those people out there can't protect themselves—and if they're dead, none of this matters. Just getting moving and keep them safe."

Bryn still didn't look entirely convinced, but she didn't put up any further arguments; she darted after Osmin, slipping through just as the barriers closed. Heartless crashed against the walls, screaming and scratching.

"Push them outward!" Freya ordered. "Herd them back into the water—away from the main island!"

The Keepers moved; they took steady, heavy steps, like they were carrying a weight on their shoulders, Keyblades held upright. The barrier moved with them, slowly expanding outward, trailing over the buildings and streets. The Heartless's cries rose into something that sounded like fury, but no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't break through.

"Not sending us out?" Leid asked, quiet, and Meili tried to ignore the way her voice grated. "It seems like it'd be better to have more Keyblade wielders—"

"And which of us has seen a world fall before—you or me?" They could see Leid starting to bristle, and interrupted before she could protest, "No. Let me break this down for you: after your little stunt, I don't particularly trust you to actually protect people. And even if I did, the docks aren't the only problem." They jammed a finger skyward—toward the Clock Tower, where shadows were starting to form, swirling around it like a cloud. Leid's eyes followed the motion, her expression slowly going pale. "You see that, right? That's going to be a problem. The Keepers might be able to push the Heartless back, but they're a little distracted right now; they aren't going to be able to focus on fighting anything that pops up in here. So that's your job; fight the damn things and keep them from getting to the Keepers. Think you can handle that?"

Leid looked, momentarily, offended, but she didn't protest; she just nodded, hand gripping her Keyblade tightly.

Meili breathed out a long, slow breath. They ran a hand over their face, allowing themself to think about the reality of the situation, for just a moment. They had seen worlds fall before—it was hard not to, when they'd been in charge of the Exploration Department for as long as they had. They'd had plenty of training to prepare them for such emergencies, and had had to put that into practice more than once. They knew what to do—but it felt different, when it was their home that was falling.

It's not falling yet. It's in danger—but the world itself isn't compromised. Getting control of the Heartless will be the big priority, if we want to stop this from getting worse.

Their eyes lifted, tracking the shadows as they swirled around and around the top of the Clock Tower. Why do I have a sinking feeling you four are up there? they thought, with a grim sort of amusement that couldn't entirely push aside their fear. Just—stay safe. Whatever you're dealing with, stay safe.

-"It has been a long time since we've been free."

Brain had grown used to Darkness's voice as a whisper; it would hiss through his ears, crawling over his shoulders in unexpected moments, countless different voices woven together to create one quiet, shivering thing. But this was loud, rumbling, pulsing beneath his feet like a heartbeat, pressing deep inside his skull like something had implanted it there. If he listened, he could pick out individual voices, now. One that sounded a little like Ephemer, but with a smug sort of lilt he'd never heard from his friend. One that sounded like Lauriam, voice alternating between helpless fury and despair that made Brain feel like he was back in the Foretellers' Chambers. One that sounded like Ven, frightened, but still so stubbornly hopefully, and when Brain blinked, he thought he could see him standing in front of them, scared but sure. One that sounded like Skuld, even if he still had a grip on her hand, thrumming with an anger that had become familiar over the past few months. And one that sounded like him, bitter and tired; he wondered if that's what his friends heard, anytime they spoke to him anymore.

"It has been so interesting to watch you, Little Lights—you, and all the others that have come before you." The shadows rolled, tugging tar-like at Brain's skin. They muted external sound; keychains rattled, too loud, and his breathing caught against the edges, dropping heavy at his feet. "We have watched since the very beginning, hiding between the cracks as your world fell. We have watched, and we have waited, and we have grown, fed by the darkness woven into the very foundation of this place."

Skuld was very, very still, except for the twist of her head, tracking those great yellow eyes as they hovered above them. She squeezed Brain's hand so hard it hurt; he wasn't even sure she knew she was doing it.

"We have watched since your friend built this world up from the ruins, picking pieces out of the rubble and trying desperately to create something for the people and culture he loved—and left behind pockets of his grief and anger and fear, in his desperation to keep his home from falling again. We have hissed whispers through the ears of his descendants, watching as they have turned what was once fear for others into fear for themselves, their greed and pride twisting them until they began squabbling over petty politics. We have held those who have slowly let their hope dwindle, cradling them as they died because of those who should've been protecting them. We have seen people overcome great challenges, and yield to their own shortcomings, and have waited as the world has turned and grown and slowly crumbled under its weight.

"And now, finally, you have called us back. A fitting end, we think, for a world that could never quite shake us."

Brain half-expected Skuld to say something, but she was silent, even Starlight held very carefully still. And so, when the silence started to span too long, Brain said, "Didn't exactly want you here."

"No?" There was something that sounded like a grin in their voice; Brain thought he could hear the Foretellers this time, a familiarity that made his spine prickle.

The shadows parted. Aegir's body lay between them, still and bloody, wisps of light only just starting to trail upward. Tendrils of darkness reached back like long, spindly fingers, slowly curling around the prone form, lifting and twisting it like some discarded doll.

Kvasir made a wounded noise. He took a couple of hesitant, hurried steps forward, stilling only when Brain blocked him with a careful flick of his Keyblade.

"Aegir was such an…interesting figure, but one we have seen before. He stared into what he thought was his light, blinded to the growing shadows behind him. Anger, for what he believed to be lost. Pride, for the position his blood afforded him. Greed, for what he believed he was owed. Fear, for the threat you posed to him, Little Lights. It was a slow-built thing, nurtured after centuries of his family's twisting values—and he was not the only one.

"He called us, Little Light—him, and every other person who held us in their hearts. He called us, asking, in his own way, for justice—and we came and offered it. For him, and those like him, we will provide the destruction they so craved. For others, we will give the peace of rest. And for others, perhaps, we will give them the chance to make legends of themselves."

The shadows untwisted. Aegir fell; he was gone before he hit the ground, nothing but flickers of light, and Brain couldn't quite help the slow, relieved breath that escaped him.

"We wonder what you will do. Who will rise to challenge us, throwing their lot into one hopeless final stand? Who will run, believing themselves heroes until the very last moment? Who will be willing to compromise their morals, or face their fears, or crumble silently?" There were the flickers of a jagged-edged smile in the darkness. "It is our favorite time to watch."

Silence hung heavy, for a moment—and then someone moved, taking careful, measured steps away from their small group.

Skuld made an alarmed noise. She let go of Brain's hand, finally, lashing out and gripping—Mimir, Brain realized, her fingers tightening around their arm in a vice grip and dragging them back.

Mimir glanced back at her, giving an understanding sort of smile. They dismissed their Keyblade, carefully prying Skuld's fingers free, and turned back toward Darkness. With steady hands, they signed, "Leave."

A low, rumbling laugh reverberated through the Clock Tower, discordant voices rolling over each other. "We should not be surprised that you are the first to step forward. But what will you do to make us? We are afraid we are not likely to fall for the same trick as last time."

…The same trick. Right. No fake possession, this time. It would have to be—

(Real.)

Mimir faltered, looking hesitant for a moment.

Those great eyes lowered, and a hiss rattled from Skuld's armor. She shot forward, Keyblade flashing. "Stay away from them," she snapped, words more snarl than anything.

Darkness turned, very slowly, toward her; Brain got the impression they were displeased to have their conversation interrupted with their 'favorite.' "Ah. The Fate Defier. Always so stubborn. So willing to do anything, to protect your friends." Darkness shifted, and Mimir twisted with them, expression creased as the eyes loomed over Skuld.

(Brain went stiff, Master's Defender burning burning burning, and his Keyblade glowed just a bit brighter.)

"We remember: you ran back into a war to save them. You twisted their memories, justifying that what you did would protect them from further harm. And you were rewarded by their own deception—by another desperate attempt to save the life of a loved one, and another painful trick by someone who was convinced they were doing the right thing."

Darkness twisted, shifting so that part of it rested across Skuld's shoulders. Brain couldn't see her face, but he could see Mimir's; they had gone pale, lips pressed flat, breathing very, very carefully, like they were trying to steady themself.

"You were not meant to be here—but you know this. You reached into the very fabric of time itself and twisted it, all in one desperate attempt to stay beside your friends. It makes us curious, to see what you will do. Can you bend fate to your will a second time, Little Light? What would you give up, if it meant keeping your friends alive?"

The words might have been meant for Skuld, but they rang loud in Brain's ears. What would you give up? The Dandelions?

…Yourself?

His hands were…shaking, Brain realized after a moment. Master's Defender was quivering, keychain rattling just slightly. He lowered it a little, shoving one hand into his pocket. He thought the others were too focused on Darkness to notice—or, at least, he hoped they were. Now. You have to do this now. There's…no more time. Darkness is here. You have to make sure this was worth it. You have to make sure that they live.

He took a breath—and then he exhaled, shaky. What came out of his mouth wasn't a spell, or a plan, or…anything like what he was supposed to say. It was instead, "You get a real kick out of tormenting people, huh?"

The eyes turned toward him; he felt almost pinned under them, something cold prickling down his spine. Skuld shifted, slowly, attention torn from Mimir to look back his way.

(Don't panic. Breathe. Look at the facts. The others are still here. They'll stop you. You need to get them to leave.)

(Coward. You're stalling for time.)

"Just like to see how people react, huh?" Brain grinned, but he could feel the stiffness of it, hear the shakiness in his voice. "Right. I guess needlessly poking at old wounds would probably get some sort of reaction—it's just always going to be a bit skewed. But guess that doesn't bother you, right? Negativity, and all."

Another laugh; it pressed against Brain's sides, weighing down his shoulders, and he made himself stand under the force of it. "You always believe that you are so clever. You pick at what threads you can find, creating plan after plan after plan in the hopes that you can outwit whatever comes your way." The shadows moved, curling around him; he thought he could hear an alarmed noise from Skuld, but he found himself distracted by those glowing yellow eyes, locked stubbornly onto his. "But you have always overestimated yourself, haven't you? You are just a boy, scared and missing his family, trying to fight against something you can't hope to understand."

The words caught behind his ribcage, and he forced his expression to remain still, trying to ignore it ignore it ignore it you need to keep going. "Worked out for Mimir."

"And you are not our Little Light, are you?"

It stung, and Brain sucked in a breath, trying to ignore it ignore it it's fine it has to be fine, stop stalling you have to do something— "Well," he said, voice careful, "guess we'll see if I can live up to them, yeah?"

Master's Defender hummed to life in his hands. He blinked, and—

("What do you think you will achieve, Little Light?"

The edge of a smile on a face not his own. "Hopefully time.")

A hand pressed against his; something flickered in the corners of his eyes, white hair and blue eyes. Master's Defender lifted, glowing bright, and cut through the shadows.

For a moment, the darkness parted. A burning, ringing sound boomed through the Clock Tower, cutting through the silence. Streaks of light pierced the shadows, and it took a moment to recognize them as chains, glowing constructs streaking across the windows, wrapping around the walls, plastering the ceilings, spinning and rattling and trapping them all inside the room.

Darkness pulled themself a little tighter. Their eyes flicked, trailing up toward the glowing chains. "We know this spell," they said, voice quiet and contemplative. "We have seen it before. You would try and bind us again."

"So that's what it was, huh?" Brain grinned, planting Master's Defender against the ground and resting his arms across the top of it. "Didn't know."

(It could be useful, some part of him whispered, when you want to trap Darkness in—

Maybe I could—

You know you couldn't.)

"Using knowledge from wielders past." Darkness's eyes tilted, like they were studying them. "Useful, perhaps—but it will not be enough. We are more powerful than we were before. How long do you think you can keep us here?"

"Long enough," Brain answered, and lunged before he could second-guess himself.

-Runa had watched her home fall, once. She had hoped to never see it again.

She could see the similarities; there were always days when things felt too close—when she would have to step away from something, shaking and tired in ways she could only vaguely explain—but it'd been a long time since it'd felt like this. She looked, and even if she could see that she was on the main island, and not her old home, it felt like she was back there. That terrified child still sat somewhere inside her, running scared from a hoard of shadows, too frightened to even try to figure out where the rest of her family had gone. She saw herself in the people wandering around the boats, calling for loved ones they couldn't find; in the ones still waiting down on the docks, trying to hold out until the last possible moment for others to come.

Runa watched, and she remembered, as storykeepers do: this had happened before. She watched as people tried to scramble to get away from dying streets, taking boats across the water to safety. She watched as Heartless clambered over the shores, crawling from the water and trying to climb up the sides of the ships, and as people tried desperately, desperately to beat them back. She watched as some got pulled down, dragged underneath a mass of shadows, and she heard screams and wanted to close her eyes but couldn't.

…She watched as people stared out at their homes, broken looks on their faces. Some had managed to grab some things when they left; others hadn't, perhaps thinking that they would be able to return once the bluebloods had stopped fighting. But Runa had known: there was no going back. And she thought the Union Leader had known, too, even if she'd promised to try and stop things; she had lost her home, too, after all.

Someone screamed—a child, it sounded like, near the ship's railing. Her head snapped around, and—there was a Heartless, beady eyes peering over the edge.

She didn't entirely think; she'd moved before she'd even decided on what she was doing, grabbing the nearest thing she could find and whacking it over the Heartless's head, again and again and again until it was finally forced to let go. It dropped over the edge—but there were more there, crawling up the wood, and Runa could feel the terror creeping up her throat. She wasn't a fighter; she had no training. She didn't know how they would escape this—not when the Heartless were trailing across the water itself, when they had nowhere left to run—

A wave of water crashed over the side of the boat. The Heartless disappeared underneath it; they bobbed up from the sea, and some of them scrambled back, trying to claw their way back up the ship.

"Oh, man," Myde whispered. "Don't they ever give up?"

"No," Runa whispered, numb. "The stories—they say that they are single-minded creatures. They used to be living beings, once, their hearts corrupted by darkness, in one way or another. But the things that were most important in life—those cling to them. They will chase after the hearts of others, looking for what they've lost—will rip them out of your chest, if they can."

"…Okay. That's terrifying."

"Everyone on the ships!" That was—Sven, she thought he'd introduced himself as. A survivor from the first fall, much like herself. "We need to push off—get away from here!"

"What if there are still people in the city?" someone shouted back.

"If we stay any longer, there won't be anyone. Get the ships moving; the Keybearers will have to take care of them."

"That's it, then?" someone whispered. "We're just…leaving?"

"Is this everyone?"

"Where are we supposed to go? There are still Heartless on the other islands, aren't there?"

There were no answers, this time. There were no places left to go; the islands had fallen, one by one by one, until only one stronghold had remained. Runa thought she could hear the way it would sound, if their stories survived longer than they did: that the Keyblade wielders, once a beacon of light in the darkness, had grown proud, and in their pride hadn't realized how their foundation had crumbled underneath them.

(Never mind what had happened to the citizens of Scala ad Caelum—the bakers and the fishermen and the metalworkers. They were never important enough to make it into the stories.)

"Go!"

The boats strained. There were people running around the decks now, unfurling sails, shouting orders, working at the helms, pushing to get away from the docks. There were others still hurrying onto the ships, some workers motioning to stay just a moment, we haven't gotten everyone on, just wait—

But they couldn't. Runa knew this; she remembered. She could see the Heartless still surging toward them, in the distance—a wave that turned the streets black, one creature barely distinguishable from another. She released a breath, shuddered, and watched.

It was why she saw the light glittering in the distance. Why she saw it fly, closer and closer, and saw the two small shapes, haloed in its glow.

"Hey," Myde started, "what's—"

The light fell. The Heartless noticed; they turned, many eyes swiveling to look at the tiny sphere, and stayed still long enough for it to explode, the light flaring out and up. Runa had to turn away, finally, with how blinding it was—but when she looked back, there was a whole ring of Heartless gone from the streets.

"Keyblade wielders!" someone shouted, and she could hear the cries of relief, rising from the people around her.

"The Union Leaders?"

"Council members—Masters Osmin and Bryn."

"But where are the Union Leaders? Why aren't they here?"

Probably still fighting, Runa thought distantly, eyes turning to the swirling red-black clouds. They are always where the greatest danger lies.

One of them landed on their boat—Osmin, it looked like. "Is anyone hurt?" he shouted. Down below, Bryn was speaking to the dock workers, casting back looks as she sent wave after wave of spells at the Heartless, stubbornly driving them back.

"Is it just you?" someone called.

Osmin's expression darkened. "For now," he said. "We came on orders from Meili and the Keepers; the other wielders are preoccupied fighting." He turned, and his eyes went back to the city—to the Heartless crawling between the buildings, and to the darkness still hovering overhead. "…Keep the boats in motion," he said finally. "Bryn or I will stay with you to keep the Heartless at bay. The other will go back into the city; we'll look for other survivors, and wielders to help us."

"But…" someone started, hesitant. "But if we're gone…how will…"

"They're Keyblade wielders," someone said, sounding vaguely annoyed. "They can probably chase after us just fine."

They can, Runa thought, staring at them. It didn't fill her with as much hope as it should.

The boats came unmoored. There were people shouting to each other from across the decks, trying to coordinate where they'd go, but Runa couldn't help watching her home as it got further and further away. The Keepers—the Keyblade wielders—the Union Leaders—they were fighting to try and save it. Even now, she could see the barrier advancing outward, hear the spells ringing in the distance.

But she had seen this before.

Around her, the others had gone quiet. They were watching, too—staring as the city slowly grew smaller. Please, she thought, and wasn't sure if it was a prayer or a wish or just a tired thought. Please let someone succeed. Let us find a home—somewhere.

-It's happening again.

Everything around Skuld sounded…muted. The others moved, and she moved mechanically after them, dragged into action almost without her consent. A spell exploded with a flash of light, and Skuld could barely hear it over the sound of her breathing, rattling against her helmet. (Brain moved first, some part of her noted distantly. Like last time.)

She felt disconnected, almost; there was a part of her that was aware that she was lifting her Keyblade to fire off a spell, that her feet were moving to dodge out of the way, that she was shouting in alarm as a stray attack came too close to one of her friends, but it all felt distant. She was unmoored, watching as she and her friends fought the same enemy in a different place, and all she could see was—

(The Foretellers' Chambers, and the others, joking after a long meeting.

"I'm telling you, that's what happened!"

"Sure, Ephemer."

"No, no, really. Skuld—"

"It's true, I saw it!"

"That sounds like a lie.")

All she could see was—

(A familiar meeting table, cracked under the pressure of attacks it couldn't stand up to, and her friends, bruised and bleeding and tired, and the slow, sinking feeling that maybe they couldn't win, maybe this thing really was going to tear all of them and their world apart. It was a slow-growing thing—a terrified trickle down her back, a shaky breath and a slow, hollowing feeling, and she launched to her feet before she could dwell on it for too long.)

All she could see was—

(The lifeboat chamber, the shadows stretching further than they should. The world shook, and she stumbled but kept moving, because if she stopped, then—then she'd have to think about who she was fighting, and what was happening, and she still didn't have a plan for dealing with any of that. If she just kept moving, then—then maybe they could all make it out okay. Somehow.)

All she could see was—

(Meili's apartment, and the people in it. Brain was working on something, but he'd stop every now and again when Kvasir got too close, the two of them harassing each other. Mimir was sitting next to her, and Meili was cooking with their partners in the background, yelling back toward them. It was a tentative thing, a couple of familiar pieces patched together with new ones, but they were people who had almost started to feel like family, again. It felt a little like letting Daybreak Town and the rest of Union Leaders go—but it also felt like finally breathing again.)

I can't let this happen again.

"—uld. Skuld!"

The shout made it through the ringing too late. It took half a second to register that she was moving; a half second longer to realize that it wasn't voluntary. Her back cracked against the ground as she tried to cobble together her thoughts; the impact kicked instincts into action, and she rolled over, braced on her knees, Starlight flicking up to fire a spell. It cut throw Darkness (like last time, like last time), and she shot back into motion, refusing to meet Kvasir's worried eyes.

(Maybe if she kept moving, she'd find a solution she hadn't last time.)

Click-click-click. Her armored footfalls clacked against the ground; the noise was almost jarring, the armor rubbing uncomfortably against her skin, because it felt like she should be wearing different clothes, be in a different place, be a different person. She moved almost instinctively to dodge a blow. Realized her armor would take the brunt of it. Threw herself into it instead, screaming with a fury that had been burning in her chest since she'd watched her world fall. Light flared at Starlight's tip and exploded in bursts, so bright it was almost blinding. Her hands and chest burned with magic, a tingling, hot-cold feeling that made her feel a little like she was overflowing. She could hear the sound of screaming, and only recognized it as her own by how raw her throat was.

(Let them feel what she felt, when her world fell. When she watched one friend sacrifice himself and another die. When she found herself thrown through time and space to somewhere new, only to have to face the prospect of losing her home again.)

She stopped only when her magic ran dry, her chest hollow, fingers humming with the aftermath. She hunched over herself, panting, and could hear the sound of her Keyblade shaking.

"An admirable effort, Little Light. We can see why you were chosen."

A shift of shadows. Skuld caught her breath, and lifted her head, and suddenly she was moving, spinning over and over, helmet knocking against her skull and making her head ring. She thought, distantly, she could hear someone shouting her name.

"We understand your fury. You hunger for justice—for retribution for what we took from you."

Someone caught her; she caught the murmured Cure spell, but not the person, tearing out of their grip and shooting back into motion. She could see those bright yellow eyes, hanging overhead, and she aimed for them; she still had very little magic left to give, and so she swung Starlight instead, shadows twisting like spider webs around the shaft of her weapon.

"But you cannot fight us any more than you can fight the sea, or a storm, or any other part of the natural world. You can shore up your walls, and ferry your people to safer shores, and rebuild when everything has passed—but you will do little by swinging your sword at the sky."

They were right, in a way, and she knew it, because they'd tried to fight Darkness last time and lost. But the thought just made her angrier, and so she swung again, and again, Starlight getting tangled in the murk. Tendrils stuck to her arms, her legs, her torso, and she tore away from them as they tried to cling to her, Starlight burning burning burning—

(Helpless. She was helpless again, just as she had been when Daybreak Town fell, when they'd found themselves in Scala ad Caelum and facing the ridiculous political maneuverings of the bluebloods, when—)

Another scream, raw and frustrated. A flicker of light cut through the shadows; it was enough to allow her to tear free, whipping around and swinging her Keyblade through the murk.

"You have been holding onto this for so long, haven't you? It has built, and built, and built, only released in little spurts."

(She stared at herself. Subject X. The girl she was supposed to be. She stared, and stared, and stared, and tried not to feel like changing her fate had changed very little at all.)

Another swing—useless, useless, it wasn't doing anything, but she didn't know what else to do—

"But we understand. There is little you can do, in the face of a falling world. Perhaps it is understandable, that you would break now, when you have nothing left to lose.

"…Very well. You can do us no harm. We do not mind being an outlet for your fury."

(Change what you can. There had to be some way to—there had to be something. There had to be something they could do.

…There was something, wasn't there?)

Starlight crashed against the ground. The feeling of it reverberated up her arm; she thought she could hear it ringing in her armor, echoing alongside her ragged breathing. The world flickered with sunspots, and she blinked, like she could clear them.

"Is your fury spent?"

Her head snapped up so quickly her neck ached.

Darkness was…still there. Whole and unharmed. There was a crinkle of amusement to their eyes, and Skuld tasted bile. They're just playing with us, she thought. They know we can't beat them. They know the barrier will fall, eventually; it's just a matter of time. And in the meantime, they can toy with us all they like.

It made her want to scream, and so she did, lunging again, Keyblade swinging because what else was she supposed to do?

(There is an option. A way to take back control—to defeat this thing, and protect your loved ones. But are you willing to use it?)

Something cut across the space between them—an arc of shadows, swinging painfully into her stomach. She stumbled and gasped, but it wasn't going to be enough to stop her.

She let her armor take it. She moved, running through things she couldn't before, swinging her Keyblade like it could rip through the shadows. Around her, she could hear the sounds of spells and shouts and—

And she wondered what the others were thinking. If they were just as frantic as she was (as they were, back in Daybreak Town), scrambling for answers that they didn't have. If they were just fighting because they didn't know what else they were supposed to do.

…If they were going to look to their Union Leaders to fix things.

(It made her want to laugh or cry or both. Being Union Leaders had never been enough before. It hadn't saved their world, or the Dandelions. All it'd done is given people false hope—allowed them to bestow their worries on people who couldn't stand under the weight.)

(And now, you might have to give up your charges to save a world you don't even know if you truly belong to. Some legend.)

Her eyes were stinging. Another slice of her Keyblade; Darkness curled around it, trailing along the walls. She thought she could see their eyes, and flung Starlight toward them, weapon spinning over and over until it hit the barrier with a clang! The shadows turned toward her, massive head peeling away, and—

And they were gathering an attack, she realized. Black ooze formed in their mouth, dripping and spilling onto the floor underneath them, leaving behind murky pools. Starlight flashed back to her hands; she heard her friends yelling, Kvasir and Mimir shooting in from opposite sides to try and cut the attack off.

It wasn't enough. The attack fired; Skuld lifted her hands and braced herself. It crashed against Starlight, and for a moment, all she could see were shadows. Her feet skidded backward, and she tried to twist herself into a better position, arms aching from the force of trying to keep the attack from reaching her.

(You know this isn't something you can beat. You are only wasting your time.

I don't want to give up the Dandelions.

You may not have a choice, if you want to keep Scala ad Caelum and everyone here from suffering the same fate.)

Her feet slipped. The shadows cracked against her helmet and tore it free. Something cut against her shoulders, her arms, her legs, and she tried to muster the strength to go forward and couldn't. Her feet were torn off the ground, and then she was flying again, toppling helplessly across the room—

(Useless. You're a Union Leader—you need to do something.)

She crashed into…something. Arms wrapped around her, and she tore herself away, trying not to panic because she couldn't go down, she had to keep moving, had to keep fighting—

"Easy."

Brain. He was watching her with a wary, worried sort of expression, hands lifted like he wasn't sure if touching her again would be a good idea.

…Starlight was half-lifted, she realized, like she was going to swing. She dropped it, listening as it clattered against the floor, and pulled her hand sharply away. "Sorry."

"It's alright." Brain tilted his head, eyes narrowed. "But I'm guessing you aren't."

Of course she wasn't. Of course she wasn't, their world was falling again, they were going to lose everyone again, how could he be so calm—

He's not, some gentler part of her supplied. And—when she took a moment to breathe, she could see his shaking hands. The pinch of his eyes. He's just trying to look like he is, because he can see you aren't.

It made it a little easier to reign in her feelings—to try and stuff the anger down to a simmer, to try and think and focus on what they could do. "Darkness is…here," she said, quiet, and it felt like she was trying to puzzle her frazzled mind back together.

"…Yeah."

"There's not—we can't lock them back underneath Scala."

"Probably a questionable idea to begin with."

"But we might…" She trailed off, breath shuddering.

A hand rested, steady, on her arm. "We don't have to."

"Brain—"

"I have a plan."

(He…wasn't looking at her, she realized. He was certainly trying to make it seem like he was—but his eyes were focused on some point over her shoulder, like they couldn't quite meet her own.)

"It's…a little complicated. But it means that we'll be able to take care of Darkness without sacrificing the Dandelions."

(She caught the hitch in his breath. His hand was shaking on her arm. Just…adrenaline, maybe? Or lingering fear, that his plan wouldn't work. Or—)

"Are you going to tell me what it is?" she asked, and she meant to try and inject some sort of levity into her voice, but it came out a shaky, tear-stained sort of thing, instead.

He gave her a crooked sort of grin. "Well, that would spoil the surprise." He shot a brief glance toward Darkness. The barrier cast strange shadows across his face; it made him look almost skeletal. "Do you trust me?"

Without question. "I do."

"Okay," he said, and he sounded relieved, but his expression was pinched. Sad, almost. It made her feel…strangely on-edge. "I'm going to need the three of you to find someone."

Wait. "All three of us?"

"Luxu," Brain pressed, ignoring her protest. "He's still here. It's a little complicated to explain. He probably doesn't look or sound like he did, but he's still wearing the same black coat."

"Wait, Brain, slow down. Why all three of us?"

"Send him back here. He'll know what to do."

"Brain." She gripped both of his arms, fingers squeezing tight. "You can't—that's Darkness. We can't take them together, let alone one on one."

"It's fine. I've basically just got to stall." He flashed her a grin that didn't quite meet his eyes. "Besides, I don't exactly know where Luxu is. He should've seen what was going on and been out—but it's not like I could give him a head's up about where to be."

She had…a lot of questions about that. About how he'd found Luxu, and how the wielder could even be here, and what the details of his plan actually were. For the moment, however, they were pushed away for a more pressing matter: "I'm not leaving you to fight Darkness alone."

He didn't look surprised, but he did look…tired. "Skuld—"

"No. I'm not losing any more friends, Brain."

His face contorted in something like grief, for a moment, and—and maybe that wasn't the best thing to mention right now. "Are you okay?" she asked, quiet. "I'm not the only one who…"

She trailed off, and Brain's face went through a complicated array of expressions, like it couldn't quite decide what to land on. "…We just need to get this thing taken care of. Then everything will be alright."

"That's not an answer."

"Technically, you didn't answer mine, either." He gave her a small smile and tugged his hat lower. "I'm fine, Skuld. Just…help me out, here."

She stared at him for a moment. He…wasn't looking at her anymore. His shoulders were tense. His hands still shook. Skuld's throat tightened, and she reached out to drag him into a hug.

Brain started—but then he returned it, arms wrapping around her tight. She thought she could hear his breath hitch. "You're going to be okay," he said, quiet, and it stung, because he shouldn't have to push down his own grief to deal with this.

"So are you," Skuld said, with the ferocity of a promise. "We all are." She pulled away after a moment, and he released her reluctantly, hands still on her arms. "How are Kvasir and Mimir getting out of the barrier?"

He gave her a deadpan look. "Still not going to leave, huh?"

"Nope."

"Right." Brain sighed, running a hand over his face; when he pulled it away, his expression was blank. Focused. It made her feel a little relieved—like maybe he had things under control again. "I'll need to pull it down—at least partially. They'll have to move quick; if I leave things down too long, Darkness will have a chance to get through."

Skuld shuddered. Darkness trapped here was bad enough; if they got out to the city…

"It's not the end of the world if it fails," Brain said, apparently catching her expression. Then he grimaced. "Hopefully. We'll just need to move quicker."

Skuld nodded, and turned. Kvasir and Mimir were still fighting Darkness; spells sung from their Keyblades, alternating, like they were trying to conserve their magic as much as possible. Darkness spun and cut around them, jagged claws clacking along the edges of the barrier. "Right. They'll find Luxu; we'll distract Darkness." She paused, and then added, quiet, "…What if they can't find him?"

Brain was quiet, for a moment. "Then…we have to resort to Plan B," he whispered, and he sounded…strained.

Skuld swallowed tightly. Plan B. Right. The Dandelions. It was make or break, then; if this didn't work out, they needed to grab the box, and trap Darkness inside it.

…She just had to hope they all made it long enough for this to work.

It didn't entirely put her at ease, but it was still good, having a plan to work with. She moved, and Brain moved with her, shooting back into the fight. Her chest still ached, but the hum of magic had started to refill it; she lifted her Keyblade, a burst of light exploding from the tip. It hit Darkness right between the eyes; the giant, shadowy head started to turn toward her, and she lunged into a roll, dodging away from the gout of darkness that crashed into the ground where she'd once been.

Mimir turned to them, a relieved smile spreading across their face. Kvasir's smile looked more tentative, framed by pinched eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked, and his voice sounded raw.

"Are you?" she asked, because—

(Because he'd watched his uncle die, and maybe he wasn't a good man, but the two of them had been close, once. Because he had to deal with the fact that his family's fighting had brought this to Scala. Because he could be watching his world fall, and if things went wrong—

Things needed not to go wrong.)

Kvasir didn't answer; his smile turned more strained, and he shifted, looking upward at the shadows. "You guys…have fought this, before."

Something moved; Skuld dodged, rolling away, and spinning back around to try and fire a spell. She cut once, twice, and the sound of the parries reverberated through her ears. "Technically."

"It was a little one-sided," Brain said dryly. "But I've got a plan."

Kvasir's eyes lightened a little. He leapt away from an attack, his weapon twisting. "Right. The box. Where's—"

"Not the box."

Kvasir's smile faltered.

Brain's head snapped upward. He cursed quietly, Master's Defender lifting.

Skuld noticed what he had a heartbeat later: Darkness, rearing back, the shadows all pulling toward one side of the room. She lunged, grasping Mimir's arms and dragging them toward the others. A barrier went up a moment before the attack fired, shadows spilling out around its edges. Skuld winced as it shook, but lifted her Keyblade, ready to fight the moment the spell went down again.

"What—what do you mean, not the box?" Kvasir's voice cracked with a panicked sort of confusion. "That's—isn't that why we went to get it?"

Skuld forced herself not to flinch; she didn't turn to look at him, focused stubbornly on the shadows still pouring around their shield.

"Turns out, it may not be a viable option."

Skuld did wince at that; she could feel Mimir watching her, their eyes boring into her back.

(She wondered if they knew. She wondered what they would think, if she used the box to trap Darkness. If they would think she was just like the Foretellers, or if they would understand.)

(Always believing you're justified, doing horrible things for the sake of 'protecting' others.)

"What do you mean?" Kvasir's voice lifted, cracking into half-hysterical laughter. "What do—can we not trap it there? But I thought—"

"Kvasir. Look, I have a plan—but I need you to work with me, alright?"

"What do—"

"Brain and I are going to stay here to fight Darkness," Skuld cut in. "You and Mimir are going to go out to find Luxu when he lowers the barrier."

"What?"

Something moved; it was the only warning they got before Darkness crashed into their barrier. Skuld shouted in alarm, dropping to her knees as the barrier dented. Brain grunted in what sounded like pain, bracing his Keyblade with both hands, arms shaking from the effort. Those great, glowing eyes flickered on the other side of the barrier. "How long do you think you can wait here, Little Lights?" Great, clawed hands curled around the edges of their barrier; Skuld tensed, like she could brace herself against whatever Darkness was about to do, Keyblade lashing out almost on instinct. "The more time you spend fighting us, the closer the world comes to crumbling. There is only so long you can stall before all your plans turn to ash."

Skuld met the others' eyes, one by one. They were right, really; they couldn't spend time arguing over the details. They knew what to do; they had to move now, or they wouldn't be able to do anything at all.

Kvasir's lips pressed into a grim line, and he nodded. "…Luxu," he said, testing the name carefully. "What does he—?"

"Black coat. Can't see his face, but—you'll know him when you see him." Brain stayed tense, staring up at those great, glowing eyes. "Get ready."

Kvasir shifted a little, his Keyblade humming with magic. Skuld gripped Starlight with both hands, aiming it toward Darkness. Mimir cut a glance between them, but took a reluctant breath, seeming to nod to themself.

Cracks formed, slowly, across the top of the barrier.

"Now!"

The barrier around them burst into shards. The one covering the walls fell, chains shattering. Kvasir and Mimir moved, shooting toward the windows with magic-fueled kicks. Skuld moved almost simultaneously, swinging toward Darkness with a furious cry. Starlight cut through the edges of the shadows and, for a moment, she couldn't see anything. She poured all of her magic into the attack—a burst of light, exploding from her weapon's tip. It pushed away the shadows, her arms and chest burning with the effort, and she felt it spread out and out and out, forcing any bit of Darkness into the furthest corners.

…It was also something she knew she couldn't sustain. Already she could feel her magic draining, light stinging her cheeks, the hot-cold taste of magic on the back of her tongue. "Brain!"

Kvasir and Mimir slipped out the window; it was hard to see them clearly, through the flickers of light. Brain moved, Master's Defender flicking, and the chains flickered back in place—just in time for Darkness to crash into them. The whole building shook. The chains rattled. The force of it drove Skuld to her knees, Starlight torn from her grip. It clattered to the ground—but, somehow, it felt like it didn't matter. Her friends had gotten out—they could go and get help. And Darkness was still here, and maybe that meant that they were trapped with it, but at least it meant that they couldn't get out and hurt anyone else—

"Did you really think we would let you try and contain us, Little Lights?"

It took her a moment to notice, but…Brain was shaking. He was gripping Master's Defender with both hands, but…he looked strained.

(He had to hold up the barrier around Scala, earlier, she thought, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. He had to do that alone. He's…just as exhausted as the rest of us.)

The chains were rattling. She thought she could see them starting to crack, fractures running along the edges. They dimmed and flickered, and the Darkness grew.

Skuld called Starlight back to her hands and moved.

"We are sorry—but we cannot play your game anymore. Not if you are planning to bring in…reinforcements."

Skuld swung Starlight down with a cry.

The barrier burst. The chains shattered, light scattering across the floor of the Clock Tower. Darkness spilled from the windows, curling up and around her, and for a moment, Skuld couldn't see anything.

Someone grabbed her arm. Her foot caught the edge of the window, and when the shadows cleared, she found herself dangling there, staring at the city below them.

Kvasir and Mimir were still moving—but so was Darkness, slowly spreading out, trailing across the sky. As she watched, pieces seemed to come off of it, falling toward the city like rain. She stared at it, and her throat tightened around a scream.

Brain was…still holding her, she realized. His face had gone blank and pale.

She took a breath, and tried to steady herself. "It's not your fault."

He didn't say anything; he pulled her back into the Clock Tower, and let her go.

Skuld…thought she should say something else. She didn't know what else to say. They needed to move; they didn't have time. Darkness was out there, and—and they needed to try and distract it. To give their friends time to try and find Luxu.

Skuld took a breath, drew from what dregs of magic she had left, and lunged into a freefall, Brain right beside her.

-"There's a pocket over there!" Meili shouted; their eyes tracked a large group of Heartless, steadily hunting down a much smaller group of Keyblade wielders.

"On it." A wielder shot from beside them, a couple of others trailing by their side. Meili recognized them—some members of the Exploration Department, used to the familiar training sessions, and one who'd watched a world fall himself. They'd tried to pick up more wielders, as they'd steadily advanced through the city. Sometimes, they'd found stragglers—civilians left behind, desperate and scared, and they'd been coordinating to try and get them toward the docks.

Meili's head lifted, twisting toward—ah. The boats were on the water now; the Heartless could still target them, maybe, but they were at least getting away from danger. "Hey!" Meili shouted, flagging down a couple of other wielders. "You lot! Get to the boats; help keep them safe."

One of them frowned. "Our duty as wielders—"

"Means you protect people. Those boats have one, maybe two people to fight the Heartless, and a hell of a lot of non-combatants. They're sitting ducks if the Heartless decide to fight them—so get out there."

The wielder's expression shifted. They nodded, and their small group turned. The barrier opened briefly, allowing them to pass.

…There were a lot of Heartless on the other side, Meili was realizing. They were starting to pile up, crawling over each other as they were forced back, slowly but steadily. They screeched and squealed, beady eyes staring up at them.

(Home.

Home!

Want to go home—

Please—)

"Stun!"

The barked order came from Freya, and the barrier was suddenly alight with magic. Electricity burst outward, and the Heartless screeched, going up in waves of black smoke. Meili watched them, and couldn't help but be somewhat impressed at the efficiency. "Wish we had something like this," they muttered, squinting at the remaining Heartless.

A dry chuckle reached their ears—one they hadn't expected, and were surprised to find themself relieved about. "Glad to see you're still well enough to complain, Meili."

A Keeper approached them, Frigga hanging off their shoulders. Cuts and bruises lined her face and arms, her hair unkempt, her clothes torn and blood-soaked. Part of one leg was missing below the knee; the other shook, like it was struggling to hold her up. "You look like shit," they deadpanned, and tried to ignore how worrying that observation was.

Frigga laughed again, quiet. "I suppose I must." She turned her head, attention shifting out toward the docks, and her eyes softened a little. "I heard the Union Leaders sent everyone away when the fighting started."

Meili's throat tightened. "I guess I'm not surprised. Sometimes they actually know what they're doing." They extended an arm, taking Frigga from the Keeper and letting them get back to work. She seemed surprisingly frail, like this. Old. It was…strange. "Have you seen them anywhere?"

"No. Just heard." She cast a look their way. "You're worried."

They didn't respond; they tried not to think about the fact that they hadn't seen any of them since this had started.

"Don't be. They can take care of themselves."

"I know, but this is still a shit situation to be stuck in." They moved, trying to keep up with the advancing barrier. "I guess at least the Keepers seem to know what they're doing."

They thought they could hear Freya's snort, but she didn't turn at the comment.

"They have trained for this." Frigga paused, growing strangely melancholy for a moment. "Hopefully once the Heartless are pushed toward the edges, they'll stop."

"That's not always how this works. There are a lot of Heartless here, Frigga."

"I know."

Silence, then, and Meili wasn't sure how to fill it. "Alright," they said, finally. "So say the worst happens, and the main island falls. Where do we go from there?"

Frigga was very, very quiet for several moments. "…I don't know." Her voice came out…hushed. Defeated. "We…don't have very many places to go. If the world is still standing—we may be able to get rid of the Heartless and rebuild."

She trailed away, and Meili could hear what was left unsaid: there wasn't much to do, if the world fell apart. "Usually we take survivors to another world," they offered, quiet, and tried to ignore the fact that that world was usually here. "So I guess that's what we would have to do."

"…I suppose. Do you know any?"

"Some. It'd be better if I had some maps—but I know the locations well enough." They might have to steal Brain's; they knew he'd made some, tucking them into his journal as he tried to find the rest of his friends. His insubordination might come in handy for once, they thought dryly.

"Master Freya! Master Freya!"

Meili frowned, turning to locate the source of the shouting. An…apprentice Keeper, it looked like, was hurrying across the buildings, waving his arms wildly and pointing upward. "Do you know who that is?"

"I…am uncertain."

"Alright, new question: do you know what's got him so worked up?"

But Meili was already lifting their head, following the direction he was pointing in—

The Clock Tower.

Glass shattered. Something that looked like smoke rolled out the windows, curling up and around, and it took Meili a moment to realize that it wasn't reacting to any sort of wind. As they watched, long, curled claws formed from the shadows—hundreds of them, arching around and gripping the edges of the Clock Tower. Something that might've been a head turned, twisting like necks shouldn't, two glowing slits crinkling as it watched the world below it.

Frigga's breath caught. "No. That's—"

Meili wasn't sure if the cold they felt was because of the way everything had seemed to grow darker, or from the way Frigga was staring up at the shadows, silent and terrified. "I'm guessing that's your 'threat,'" they said, but they could hardly focus on the words, because—

Because there were shapes moving up there. Four of them.

"Get some people up there!" Meili shouted. "Help them!"

A couple of wielders moved, shooting towards the shadows almost instinctively at the command.

That thing that might've been a head tilted. The eyes crinkled. Something that almost looked like jaws curled into a jagged smile. The shadows pushed away from the Clock Tower, spreading out and across the city. There was so much of it; it seemed almost never-ending, spilling endlessly across the sky, and Meili couldn't help the way they watched those small shapes move after it, shooting spells into a creature that didn't even seem to feel them. How are we supposed to fight that thing?

And then…something spoke. A voice that rumbled like thunder, countless inflections all curling over each other, blending into one:

"Do you know us, Little Ones?"

-Another strike. Another miss. Claws dug into Sigurd's shoulders, and he reached around, trying desperately to grab the Heartless and drag it away—

"Got it!"

The weight on his back disappeared; Kris stood there, Keyblade still lifted. Her Keyblade was shaking. Blood stained her clothes and tracked across her cheeks. Some of it was from wounds now healed; some was from cuts still bleeding sluggishly. He didn't want to think about the remainder. "Thank you."

"Yeah, it's—"

"Your right!" Eir's voice rose in a shriek. Her Keyblade lifted, and a spell crashed into the Heartless that had been lunging for him. He turned, swinging his Keyblade around in a broad sweep. His arms were starting to feel heavy, and he turned, pressing his back against the two students. Another strike and another spell and more movement, cutting at claws and teeth and other things. The shadows moved in one great mass; they still crawled across the ground, wailing like lost children. Most of the buildings had been broken into some time ago; his feet crunched across broken glass and the remains of doors, and he tried not to stumble over them as he moved.

…He'd lost track of the others that had been fighting with them. He wasn't sure if they had made it away, or—

"Are you still holding up?" he asked, breathless.

(Swing his Keyblade. Spin. Keep moving, keep fighting, keep going, because he wasn't sure what else he was supposed to do.)

He heard Kris laugh, exhausted. "Yeah! I could do this all day."

"We don't—we don't have much of a choice," Eir breathed. A Keyblade flashed close to his face from a swing gone too wide. "What do we…?"

It was a question that had no answer. Because, truthfully, Sigurd didn't know. He'd never had to fight this many Heartless before. Never had to fight this long before, and he could feel the way it tugged on his chest and ached through his bones. His legs were shaking; his magic was nearly spent. He was running on adrenaline alone, and he didn't know how much longer he could keep going.

(The Heartless just kept coming. It didn't look like they'd made a dent in them at all.)

"We need to get out of here."

The words tumbled from his lips before he'd thought about them. They came with a weary sort of exhaustion, because—because there wasn't really anything else to do, was there? If they stayed, they died; that was all.

But—

"Where to?"

But he had no answer to Eir's question. He didn't know what was going on elsewhere in Scala; didn't know if anywhere was safe, or if anyone else was alive, or if there was even a point.

But. They still had to try.

"Up," he said, finally. "The rooftops. It's—there are less Heartless, up there." His eyes moved, tracking the glowing barrier for only a moment before he had to focus on the fight again, Keyblade swinging again and again and again— "The—the barrier, maybe. Someone has to be holding it up."

(And he still wasn't sure who that was—if Brain had managed to put up another barrier, or if someone else had done something. He wasn't sure it was doing much, with so many Heartless still in here.)

He looked at Eir and Kris, and…he thought he could see a grim sort of understanding on their faces. Like they knew this was mostly one final, desperate stand—but that they needed to take it, anyways. Kris's lips twitched toward a hesitant, tired smile; Eir just nodded, scared but determined.

Sigurd breathed, and turned to catch a Heartless on the edge of his Keyblade. "When I tell you to run—run."

Another Heartless; another strike. He carefully shifted his feet, trying to edge them closer to the buildings. His breathing shuddered a little in his chest, but he tried to steady it, gripping his Keyblade tightly.

And—and then there was a break, however brief, in the onslaught.

"Now!"

He could feel Kris and Eir moving, leaping from the ground and toward the tops of the buildings. He swung his Keyblade, and watched as light arced from the edge. Heartless fell back, chittering and screeching, and the noise pressed into his ears.

Something caught at his arms. His legs. They were—behind him, he realized. With no one to guard his back—

I'm not going to be able to get up.

His throat tightened in panic. He squirmed, flailing as he tried to cut through the Heartless. Something bit into his shoulder; another grabbed his stomach. He was starting to bend under the weight, and he could feel his heart hammering with panic panic panic, because if he was brought down, he was dead, and he wasn't ready to fall like this, not yet—

"Sigurd!"

A burning, buzzing sound; something shot into the space beside him, crackling with energy. Heat flared along his back; smoke trailed past his face, but the weight had lessened enough that he could move again, and he barely had time to think before he'd sent himself into motion, kicking off the ground and scrambling, desperate, up and over the side of the building.

Two sets of arms reached for him; Kris and Eir heaved him onto the roof, and for a few moments, the three of them just rested there, panting and shaking. "…Thank you," he managed, finally.

"No—look out!"

Another burst of magic. Sigurd scrambled to his feet, scurrying away from the edge.

A Heartless burst into smoke. Kris still had her Keyblade aimed at the place where it'd been, the weapon shaking minutely. Eir stared, wide-eyed, a hopeless sort of look slowly crossing her features.

"I—we need to—keep moving. Keep—keep going. We're—safer, up here."

(They all knew that wasn't true.)

The sky grew darker. The wind picked up. Sigurd shivered, trying to pull his cloak closer to him.

Kris sighed, an exaggerated sound that seemed designed to break the tension more than anything. "Great. First we get Heartless; then we get rain."

"…I'm not sure that's rain," Eir whispered.

Sigurd tilted his head—and then he turned, following her line of sight—

And froze.

A great, shadowy mass had started to spread across the sky. To the untrained eye, it would look almost like one great cloud—but he could see the gleaming yellow slits, staring down at them. Watching.

(For half a moment, he was back underneath Scala ad Caelum, staring down a monster he'd only heard of in stories.)

They're here.

"Do you know us, Little Ones?"

-"We understand if you do not. You have all always been so…reluctant to acknowledge our existence."

Scala ad Caelum sped closer and closer. The wind whipped Mimir's face, and they tried not to think about the shadows trailing after them. Find Luxu. Find Luxu, and send him back to the Clock Tower—back to Brain.

"But we have spent a very long time watching all of you. We have been with you since the very beginning—since before Scala ad Caelum, before Daybreak Town, before time itself."

Luxu—they knew him, but only in a distant sort of way. They tried to dredge up memories of him from their past life and only got a distant sort of image—someone in a black coat. Someone that they knew had been lost, long before the Foretellers had even really become the Foretellers.

"We are what you all stepped out of, and what will eventually welcome you when you die. We are every negative thing in the world—your grief, your anger, your fear. You have fed us, and we have grown, little by little—and now, we will sweep you away."

Magic slowed Mimir's descent, but only a little; their feet cracked against a rooftop, and they ignored the pain as they kicked into motion. Kvasir landed near them, sprinting desperately at their side.

"But do not be afraid. It is an ending, but also a beginning. You can, perhaps, rebuild from the ashes—if you are strong enough."

Mimir thought they could feel them—the shadows, nipping at their heels, and they pushed themself harder, harder, harder, because Darkness might like them, but they still didn't want to find out what would happen if they were caught—

"Well? What will you do now, Little Ones? Will you stand in the face of your destruction—or will you run?"

A low, buzzing sound; a chill running down their neck. Mimir sucked in a breath, and turned—

And something splattered into a barrier, thrown hastily over them.

Mimir's footsteps faltered for just a moment.

Darkness was spreading overhead. It had stretched to cover the sky, blotting out the sun, the stars—everything. Bits and pieces rained down from above; they hit the roofs, the sides of the buildings, the cobblestones, and Mimir watched as they ate through the material, leaving only bits and pieces behind.

Luxu. Find Luxu. Find him, and send him toward Brain—

(How are you supposed to stand up to something like this?)

They couldn't stop to think; they turned, and they ran, moving so quickly that their legs ached. A jump—a painful landing. Their whole body vibrated with the impact. Something shot past their cheek; something else burned their arm. Their breath hissed, and they moved faster, faster, faster, because they didn't have time to stop and fight—

"Down here!" That was Kvasir, they realized; he'd leapt off the rooftops, ducking into the streets, and Mimir turned and followed. They let him lead, at first, following as he wove between buildings, ducking under overhangs—but this had always been their domain more than his, and after a moment they took over, gripping his arm and dragging him away down one side street, then the next, slipping underneath bridges and through the waterways. They knew these streets; they'd run them, playing games with Pan or searching desperately for their missing people or just trying to get away and think for a while. They could hear the sound of the shadows hissing overhead, the darkness splattering just behind their feet.

A flicker of yellow was the only warning they got before a Heartless lunged at them. Mimir stumbled a little, caught in an underpass; they lifted New Dawn, the Heartless scrabbling at them over the shaft of their weapon. With an effort they forced it back, spinning their Keyblade around and spearing it through the chest.

Kvasir's breath shuddered. His Keyblade swept sideways; another Heartless went flying, batted into the walls. The shadows puddled around them, beady eyes emerging in one set, then two, then three, then more, tiny Heartless slowly pulling themselves free.

Mimir caught Kvasir's arm, tugging him back toward the light—and then abruptly forcing him back into cover as shadows splattered against the ground.

"How far do you think you can run?"

Light flickered behind them, red and hot; Mimir glanced back in time to see Kvasir shoot a burst of fire into the Heartless. It gave them a better look at the hoard: dozens of Shadows, small but dangerous in numbers, and Mimir's throat tightened as they realized they were still coming.

They lifted New Dawn, a barrier forming overhead like an unusual umbrella. And then they were moving again, dragging Kvasir across the street. He kept moving, spells exploding from the tip of his Keyblade, like he could ward off the encroaching Heartless.

More movement, to their right—a larger Heartless, lunging from an alleyway. Kvasir tugged free, Keyblade swinging, and—

(And for a moment they were in the cableway they were staring at Ephemer they were chasing down the Darklings—)

Another shift in the shadows; Kvasir moved again, swinging around to cut at the approaching Heartless. Mimir kept moving, hoping desperately that their friend could keep up with them, barrier still hanging overhead. Find Luxu. Find Luxu. Find—

Something slammed into the ground in front of them. The impact rattled Mimir's teeth and sent them flying. The barrier shattered; broken bits of earth and cobblestone scattered across them, and they barely managed to grab onto Kvasir as they crashed, painfully, to the ground.

The shadows moved—a claw, they realized after a moment, slowly pulling away from the point of impact. Those eyes were hovering close to them, now, great glowing slits watching them, and for a moment, Mimir felt like they couldn't breathe. "We are sorry, Little Light," they said, and it grated that they truly sounded apologetic, "but we cannot let you continue."

Kvasir spun around, Keyblade lifted.

Mimir…stared back. This was…the entity that claimed it favored them. That they had fooled, once, in their past life. That, in a way, they had made stronger; that they had brought here, however unintentionally. That had defended them from Aegir, amazingly, and…it made them wonder…

Twin streaks of light cut through the shadows—chains, Mimir realized, snapping out of their reverie. Skuld and Brain stood on either side of the shadows, glowing chains wrapped tightly around them. Darkness strained, twisting and turning, and Skuld gritted her teeth, trying to brace herself. "Go!" she shouted.

(They didn't want to. It felt like they were down in the lifeboat chamber all over again, watching as their friends ordered them to run and knowing that they couldn't, because that would mean that they would die—

It's not like that this time. You have to run to save them.)

Kvasir tugged them into motion before they could really process what was happening; they watched Darkness shake free of the chains as they were pulled away, the shadows twisting.

They couldn't bring themself to watch. If they did, they'd go back—so they turned around instead, eyes burning as they stumbled into motion, arms pumping as they sprinted through the streets of Scala ad Caelum.

Turn a corner, leap up the side of a building, scramble through the streets—Mimir ran and ran and ran, Kvasir panting at their side, twisting and turning and trying to figure out where they were supposed to go. They dodged around pockets of fighting, leaping over Heartless, spinning around broken bits of debris; the whole world blurred, narrowed down to a single focus as they tried to catch a flicker of a black coat.

(Was that him? No, a Heartless—and that was a curtain, there. How far would they have to search to find him? Could they find him, in all this?

Don't think about it. Just keep looking. Just keep looking—)

Another spin around a corner. Kvasir was ahead of them, Keyblade flashing to drive back the Heartless. He leapt over a fallen wall, and Mimir followed, turning to send a spell flying into the hoard behind them. Where would he be? they wondered, desperate. If I was a Master from the Age of Fairytales—where would I hide?

(You know, a part of them answered, with some amusement. You are hiding inside someone, after all.)

Another frantic turn around a corner. Another Heartless, and Mimir lifted their Keyblade and fired, trying to ignore the impressions of ghosts on the backs of their eyelids.

("Do you know what we're looking for?"

They stood on a stained glass platform. A familiar figure stood on the other side. They knew their face, now; they almost thought they could reach up, and trail their fingers across similar features.

The ghost gave them a wavering sort of smile. "I'm sorry. Even I don't know exactly what he's like. But…" They trailed off, a thoughtful look on their face. "But…I think he would probably be a little like us.")

They moved ahead of Kvasir, dragging him away—down a back alley, through a different street, and ducking down into an alcove where, blessedly, it seemed like they had finally, finally gotten a reprieve from the Heartless. The two of them panted, looking at each with equally helpless expressions.

"Do you…have any idea where to start looking?" Kvasir asked, finally.

Mimir shook their head, helpless, and they tried not to be frustrated. What good is having memories of my past life if I can't use them to save my home?

(There was laughter, bright and familiar. "Come on. You know there's a way for you to find him, right?"

Mimir tried not to glare at their past self, but the smile was grating.

The smile turned a little gentler. "You can find him the same way I found you.")

"Heart magic," Mimir breathed, the realization dawning on them slowly.

Kvasir paused, staring at them.

"Heart magic," they repeated, resisting the urge to reach out and shake him, just from the relief of the realization. "I can—"

"Find Luxu that way," Kvasir finished, a smile breaking across his face. "Mimir, that's—" And then he paused, face dipping toward a frown. "But—do you know what to look for? You can't really see much if you don't touch them, right?"

That was…true. They were too far away to really be able to pick up on memories.

Their feet started moving, taking them in circles. Kvasir blinked, watching them as they paced. Okay. Think. Luxu is—here, somehow. It could be time travel, like Brain and Skuld—except Brain said that he might not look or sound the same.

…And—and I know why that might be.

They didn't know for sure—a master like Luxu probably had much more powerful magic at his disposal than either of their lives ever had. But—it certainly sounded a lot like what had happened to them. Two hearts, merged into one. Maybe that leaves some sort of trail—something that feels like there's more than one heart there. Or—or maybe I just need to find someone that feels like me.

They stopped pacing, nodding to themself. They weren't going to get anywhere by just thinking about it; the only thing they could do was try. "Cover me," they signed, and then closed their eyes, reaching for their magic.

Everything, for a moment, was dark. Their magic hummed, warm, a familiar beat beneath their fingertips. They could feel the edges of shadows in it, and they forced back a shudder, because the last time—

It's not going to be like last time. Aegir's gone. You just need to focus.

One steadying breath. Another. In, and out. They breathed, and their magic slowly spread with it. It trailed along the streets and buildings and gardens—and, quicker than they expected, hearts started to appear.

They were dim and dark, at first—Heartless, Mimir realized, creeping along the streets and looking for something else they could latch onto. But further out, they started to catch flickers of brighter things—of still-beating human hearts, amidst the chaos. One over on a side street, rapidly moving away; one huddled somewhere up high in a building, alone; a cluster, all collected together as they tried to ward off the Heartless. Mimir grimaced, stretching their magic as far as they could go.

…It couldn't reach as far as they wanted. They were starting to get a headache, and they'd barely made it a couple of streets over. Hearts flickered—but they all looked the same. None like theirs—none like they thought Luxu's might look like.

"Any luck?" Kvasir asked, quiet.

Mimir made a noise of frustration. They bounced between the hearts, checking. One heart, normal; another, normal; another—

Wait. They stilled. Slowly, they focused back in.

There were…three hearts on a rooftop, not too far away from them. Mimir might not have paid them much mind—if they hadn't noticed the hoard of darker ones, surrounding the buildings. Heartless. That's a group of people being swarmed by Heartless.

They strained their ears. It was hard to pick out individual sounds; the chittering, banging noises could be coming from anywhere, not just that fight. Still—

"Not Luxu," they signed, eyes snapping open, "but there are some people struggling to deal with Heartless, close to here."

Kvasir's expression shifted into something serious. He nodded, saying, "You lead."

Mimir nodded back, and then they were moving, shooting up and over the roof of the building.

The group wasn't hard to find, once they knew what to look for—a small gaggle of people, all clustered together on top of one roof. The Heartless were gradually crawling their way up the building's sides, drawn to the hearts waiting at the top.

It took a moment for them to realize, but—they recognized those people.

Kvasir made a noise of surprise. "Eir?" he called.

She whipped toward him, and her expression broke with relief. "Kvasir!"

Mimir's Keyblade swung around. A spell burst from the tip; it crashed into a group of Heartless, smoke spiraling in the aftermath. A rain of rapid-fire shots exploded from Kvasir's Keyblade, peppering the Heartless; it wasn't enough to destroy most of them, but it did force them to lose their grips, dropping to the ground below.

Mimir landed on the rooftop, throwing up a barrier almost as soon as they did. Kvasir hit the ground beside them, murmuring healing spells almost as soon as he'd landed. Sigurd. Eir. Kris. They were injured, and clearly worse for wear—but they were alive. It was something, at least, and Mimir could feel a knot in their chest unraveling. At least some of them are okay.

"Thank you," Sigurd breathed, sinking onto the roof. "We…haven't had much time to rest."

Eir threw herself at Kvasir. He caught her with a startled noise, but laughed, hugging her back. "I've never been so happy to see you in my life."

"Happy to see you, too." Kvasir pulled away, and the smile on his face looked heartbreakingly genuine. "We've…had a lot to deal with."

Eir's expression fell a little. "Uncle Aegir," she started, quiet. "Is he…?"

Kvasir's expression crumpled. Mimir couldn't quite help their flinch, turning away.

"It's not your fault," Kvasir said, and Mimir gave him an exasperated sideways glance. "But he's—he's not—going to hurt anyone anymore."

Eir stared at him, face going pale—but she nodded, slow, seeming to accept the acknowledgement.

"Where are the Union Leaders?" Kris asked. She was eyeing the sky, like she expected Darkness to come down and attack them at any moment. Mimir couldn't really blame her. "You guys are usually with them?"

"Yeah, that's—what's going on with them?" Eir asked, glancing between the two.

Mimir and Kvasir exchanged hesitant glances. "It's—a lot," Kvasir said finally.

"They're fighting Darkness," Mimir signed. "They're trying to keep it from catching up to us."

"To you?" Eir squeaked.

"We're very important," Kvasir said, with a grin that didn't look entirely genuine.

"It's because Brain sent us to look for someone," Mimir explained. "Named Luxu. He's," from Daybreak Town, "pretty powerful."

"…Brain's looking for Luxu again?"

All eyes swiveled toward Sigurd. He'd turned toward them, voice coming out as a whisper.

"…Again?" Mimir signed after a moment.

Sigurd nodded, slow. "He…asked me to help him find him, before. He found out we knew each other, when we were fighting…" He trailed off, gesturing toward the shadows.

"Wait, hang on," Kris said. "You fought this thing, too?"

"You know Luxu?" Kvasir's voice almost overrode Kris's, rising with palpable relief. "Maybe you could help us find him—or steer us in the right direction, at least." He glanced back at Mimir. "Mimir tried using their heart magic—but they can only search so far. If we knew where to start looking…"

Sigurd was shaking his head before Kvasir had finished. "I…know some of the places we've met," he said. "But he doesn't usually go to the same place twice. He…usually comes and finds me, instead." He paused, head tilted. "But," he said, and suddenly he sounded more hopeful, "I may know a way to track him down."

Mimir perked up. "You do?"

"The Keeper's Keyblade. Master Brain borrowed it—I suppose it belonged to Luxu, once? At any rate, it helped lead him to Luxu, the last time. If we could get ahold of it and figure out what he did—"

"We could find him," Kvasir finished, and his face crumpled with relief. "And then, maybe, this can finally be…over."

He looked…very drained, Mimir realized. All of them did, their shoulders slumped, covered with the grit of constant fighting. None of them had had to watch a world fall, before; none of them should've had to, now. It made something angry churn in Mimir's stomach. I'm tired of Darkness hurting the people I love.

"Do we need to go back to the Keeper's tower…?" Eir asked, tentative.

Mimir shook their head. "I know this spell," they signed, glancing up toward the barrier. "The Keepers use this to protect the island from threats. They're already out—we just have to make it to the barrier."

"And figure out where, exactly, Master Freya is," Sigurd added, quiet. "Are you sure she'll have the Keyblade?"

"The world's in danger."

"That's—I suppose that's a good enough reason, yes." He accepted Kvasir's hand as the other wielder pulled him to his feet. He wobbled a little, and Kris moved to steady him.

An explosion sounded in the distance. Mimir glanced behind them; they could see Darkness, rolling like a wave between the buildings, two small shapes chasing after it. Their throat tightened at the sight. Stay safe. Please.

"…We'd better get going," Kvasir murmured. "Darkness will…probably try and catch up to us again."

"What, and you think the Union Leaders can't take it?" Kris asked.

They couldn't before. None of us could.

The silence stretched. Kris's smile fell, slowly, as she glanced between their faces. "…Shit."

"That's why we need to find Luxu," Mimir signed, turning. "Come on."

The barrier lowered; the five of them shot away, darting across the rooftops, ignoring the hissing Heartless behind them. Mimir cast a brief glance downward; they were still following, a collection of humanoid figures crawling over themselves in an attempt to reach them. They shivered, and turned away.

The barrier was, at least, an easy target—no matter where they were, they could see it, slowly expanding in the distance. They made a beeline for it, running carefully across the rooftops, where there were fewer Heartless. The sound of spells and fighting crashed behind them; it sounded closer than they'd like, and they shivered, trying to ignore the way it felt like Darkness was nipping at their heels.

…They could feel Kris staring at them all the while.

They cast her a sideways glance, frowning.

"What?"

Their frown deepened.

"What? I'm just—" She broke off, shaking her head. "It's just weird, is all."

You tilted your head.

"It feels like you've changed a lot." She huffed a laugh. "But I mean—I guess none of us really knew you, huh? From before. Maybe we should've." She gave them a crooked sort of smile. "You're alright."

Mimir's throat tightened. They turned away, not quite sure what they were supposed to do with that. Maybe they could consider it…later. When this was over.

(It was…a nice thing to think about. This being over. Everyone getting out safe, and being able to bring things back together, after everything. It's what they clung to, as they tried to make their way toward the Keepers.)

"Look out!"

It took a moment to register that that was Skuld's voice, rising panicked behind them. Mimir's hair stood on end; a shiver ran down their spine, an unnatural cold slowly creeping over their shoulders. Skuld's here. Skuld's here, and she was chasing Darkness—so that means—

"There you are, Little Light."

Something slammed into their back. They bucked and squirmed, barely having time to try and turn. A sticky substance crawled over their shoulders, wrapping around their arms and legs and neck, and they couldn't breathe couldn't breathe couldn't breathe—

"We have been trying to find you. We care about you—but we cannot risk you bringing us harm."

"Let them go!" Kvasir turned, Keyblade swinging down, like he could cut through the tendrils holding Mimir in place.

More shadows lashed out to try and grab him; Eir moved before they could, gripping the back of Kvasir's shirt and dragging him away.

From above, they could hear Skuld's shouting: "Mimir!"

The shadows were dripping across their face, now. They could barely move, wrapped so tightly in the darkness that it felt like they couldn't breathe. The world was fading, slowly, but they could still see their friends, watching as they vanished.

"But it's alright. We would prefer you stay close, anyways. Safe—with us."

And then the shadows fell over them, and they could see nothing at all.

-"Mimir!" The name tore from Skuld's throat; all she could see was—

(The lifeboat chamber she was fighting her friend Darkness had taken them they'd taken them she couldn't lose them not again not again—)

Light flashed, and it took half a second to realize it'd come from her Keyblade. Starlight cut through the shadows, light blazing in a wide arc, and Darkness parted around her. She hit the ground, stumbling, and whipped around, Keyblade lifted because she needed to fight she needed to save them she needed to—

What if you hit Mimir?

She froze. Starlight still hovered, half-lifted, above the shadows.

Darkness moved. The wind caught her before the shadows did, slamming into her stomach. The armor took the brunt of the blow, but it didn't stop her from flying back, crashing against a building.

"Hey! Pick on someone else!" A shape moved, lunging toward Darkness, and—and Skuld recognized her, she realized after a moment.

"Kris!" That was—Eir, scrambling after her. "What are you doing? That thing just sent a Union Leader flying—"

Starlight flicked. Chains rattled from the tip, wrapping around Kris's waist. Skuld pulled, tugging her away in time to dodge a gout of shadows, bursting from the ground. Light scattered from above—Brain, Master's Defender sending small starbursts peppering across the street.

"Come on! That thing has our classmate!" Skuld caught her, but Kris was already trying to break free again, squirming to get back toward Darkness, and Skuld hissed quietly as she tried to wrap her arms around her and keep her still.

"We found…reinforcements," Kvasir offered with a somewhat awkward smile. It fell away after a moment, eyes snapping back toward Darkness as it plunged, down, down, down—

Skuld leapt. Chains flashed from Brain's Keyblade, and she could hear Eir's shout of alarm as she was dragged away. Darkness crashed into the ground, spilling outward like a tidal wave, and the buildings shuddered under the force of it. Skuld landed on one, and it tilted, rumbling; she was moving again almost instantly, leaping away as the building cracked and crumbled, rubble knocking against the next structure and making it shiver. A wave of shadows washed across the street, taking out Heartless, trees, lampposts—anything that got in its way.

Kris had gone very quiet, when Skuld finally found a steady space to land on. She was staring down at the shadows, still covering the streets like water.

Another shape landed beside her—Sigurd, she realized after a moment. "Did Mimir and Kvasir find you?" she asked, voice tight, and tried not to think about the fact that Mimir was trapped, Darkness had them again, how was she going to save them this time—

A slow nod; he was staring down at the shadows, too, head twisting like maybe he could find Mimir, in the middle of everything. "They saved us from some Heartless." A pause. "What do we—"

The shadows moved; they pulled backward, dragging with them bits of debris. Rapidly they rose, forming into one giant ball.

"Move!" Skuld was following her own orders almost before she'd finished saying them, shooting from the rooftop and hurtling down toward the streets below.

The shadows spun. They broke apart, snapping into long, jagged edges, and from them flung parts of trees, bits of stone, broken benches—anything that they'd managed to collect. Skuld slid between one of the buildings, dragging Kris with her, and flinched as debris scattered across her.

Something peppered the streets, rapid-fire; Skuld snapped around, Starlight swiping a barrier upward. Bits of stone cascaded off the edges, making loud, cracking noises as they did.

Movement, from behind her. Skuld spun, half-thinking it was a Heartless—but then she saw Kris, scrambling up the side of the building. "Kris—Kris, wait!"

A war cry came from above; Skuld launched herself into the air, hovering a moment to watch as Kris sprinted across a rooftop, spells burning from the edge of her blade. She jumped down on the other side of the building, ducking into hiding as shadows struck the place where she'd been just a second before.

A swipe of her Keyblade cut through the shadows. She turned, firing a burst of light down the space where they'd been, and hissed when it burned. Darkness stretched, long claws reaching out, and Skuld threw herself into a roll, ducking away as one claw struck the place where she'd been. The edge cracked underneath it, crumbling; glowing eyes glanced at her, briefly, then moved, kicking off into a swirling, shadowy cloud, and Skuld's heart sank. "Give them back," she breathed, staring at them—and then, louder, "Give them back!"

Ice exploded from Starlight's tip; the cloud crackled and froze, and Skuld had half a moment of hope before the spell cracked apart, the shadows dipping into a dive toward her. She dodged—or, at least, tried to. Darkness spun, twisting toward her, and she had time to see two shapes flying toward her, chains flicking from the tip of a single Keyblade, before the shadows engulfed her, and—

(she was choking she was choking she couldn't breathe couldn't breathecouldn'tbreathe—)

"How do you think you will save them, Little Light?"

(A flicker of light. She thought she could see—Mimir?)

"They came to us willingly, before."

(No, that's—

A familiar figure—one that she hadn't seen since Daybreak Town had fallen. They stared at her, eyes glowing yellow, and she stretched a hand toward them.)

"Will you dive deeper, in order to rescue them?"

(They were—they were close. They were right there, she just needed to—)

Something wrapped around her waist. Very abruptly she found herself pulled back; the shadows tugged at her armor and skin, sticking to her and trying to draw her back down, back in, toward—

She hit open air. Liquid shadows scattered behind her. She gasped, coughing; her ears felt plugged, sound muted, but she could still, just barely, make out the rattle of chains. They flickered around her waist; below, she caught a glimpse of Brain as he pulled her toward him.

Another shape—Kvasir, rising high on Darkness's other side, peppering it with fire spells. Another spell, from a different direction—and then another, and another, as Sigurd and Kris and Eir all shot attacks of their own, the shadowy cloud lighting up in an array of colors.

"Don't—don't hurt—" Don't hurt Mimir. The words got stuck in her raw throat, and she gasped, coughing again.

She came to an abrupt halt as Brain caught her. He steadied her, hands on her shoulders, the magic dropping away. "Easy."

"I'm—I'm fine."

"Sure. That's why you're coughing." But his eyes were only half on her; he was tracking Darkness, too, attention trailing after them as it spread.

"We need to—keep going. Mimir—"

"Yeah." His hand tightened on her shoulder, just a little. "They'll be okay, you know. Darkness won't let anything happen to them." He huffed a laugh it didn't sound like he felt. "Guess that's one good thing about them."

Skuld wasn't sure she had the strength to comment, still focused on Darkness and Mimir Mimir Mimir—

(Last time they'd fought Darkness, she'd lost them. She didn't want to lose them again.)

She reached up, placing a hand over Brain's and squeezing slightly. And then she let go, bursting into motion, Brain hurrying after her. The two of them split, racing on either side of the cloud. Chains flew from their Keyblades in unison, crossing over and over each other; Skuld swung on one, ducking underneath the clouds and switching sides, and Brain moved to follow, slipping to the other side. The chains wrapped tighter, tighter, tighter, like a glowing cage.

Kvasir leapt ahead of them; he lifted his Keyblade, and a Firaga spell exploded from the tip. It crashed into Darkness's eyes, a molten glow lighting up the clouds and expanding out and out and out until it exploded, the shadows breaking apart and the chains falling, and Skuld caught her breath, terrified for a moment that something had happened—

She thought, for a moment, she could see a shape—a sphere of darkness, wrapped protectively around a familiar figure.

Kvasir lit up. He hit the edge of a building, kicking forward, hand extended.

Skuld saw it before he did: the shadows coming back together, bits and pieces raining down rapid-fire, all aiming toward—

She didn't entirely remember moving; she just knew she was suddenly crashing into Kvasir, the two of them hurtling toward a building on the opposite side of the street. They rolled on impact; she could hear the sound of the shadows pelting the ground and buildings behind her, and then the clatter of the attack striking a barrier, hastily thrown up by Brain.

"Hey, asshole! Why don't you stop holding hostages and fight fair?" A burst of a fire spell, exploding through the gloom, Kris's voice echoing through the streets.

The wind picked up. Skuld hissed quietly, bracing herself as it struck her, gripping Kvasir tightly. Brain's feet skidded backward, a little, until they'd knocked into her. With some effort, Skuld spun around, throwing up her own barrier to support her friend's. Kvasir dug his Keyblade into the ground, eyes scrunched tightly.

Kris wasn't quite as lucky. The wind tore at the rooftops, the gardens, the streets, pulling up cobblestones and shingles and plants, dragging them around and around in a twister. Kris tried to brace herself, Keyblade jamming into the ground, legs shifting into a stronger position—but the attack caught her, wind and shadows catching against her torso and tearing her skyward.

"Kris!" Kvasir shouted, moving like he was going to follow; only Skuld's grip around his waist kept him in place.

But not everyone was quite so encumbered.

Ice cracked. A ring of it spread across the air, arcing toward Kris. On it was Eir, haloed in a purple glow. She hit Kris, nearly fumbling as the spell sent them spinning around. They crashed into a building, Keyblades digging into it, and hung there, heads ducked low. "We'll be alright!" Eir shouted, voice rising, strained, above the howling wind. "We'll keep searching for Luxu—you guys get Mimir!"

Brain's breath shuddered as he breathed out. "Right. That leaves—"

A flicker of a spell—Sigurd, barrier thrown up around him, hurtling toward the shadows. They caught him, sending him spinning, and he dropped the barrier to fire a spell back toward Darkness. The gloom converged, snake-like, and shot after him as he turned and ran, racing through the streets.

"—that," Brain finished, looking grim. He dropped the barrier and moved, shooting after them.

Skuld released Kvasir. He paused, for half a moment, to look at his cousin and her classmate; then, with a shake of his head, he was moving again, streaking after Darkness, Skuld barely a heartbeat behind him. Stay safe. All of you—stay safe.

-(People were still fighting, down in the streets of Scala ad Caelum. Some lifted their weapons against Heartless, Keyblades or makeshift bits of debris, trying to ward off snapping jaws and long, clawed hands. But others had turned their eyes, slowly, to the new threat—to the shadows, raging through the skies, and the chaos they brought with them.

There were some who tried to fight the darkness itself, shooting spells or cutting through shadows as it passed. There were others who simply tried to stand up under the onslaught as it passed through the streets, bracing themselves against the winds and waves, trying to dodge away from the falling buildings as the shadowy beast knocked into them. And there were others still that slowed, and stopped, and stared, cowed by the sudden gloom and unable to bring themselves to move.

But most of them saw the shapes flying alongside it: bright lights, glowing with magic, familiar figures chasing back and forth across the streets. They watched as they exchanged blows with a monster, and something like hope warred with their fear.

They knew the stories. They knew how this was supposed to go.

The Union Leaders will save us.)

-"Hey." Brain tried very, very hard to sound casual as he pulled up alongside Sigurd, flinging a spell back toward Darkness for good measure. "Mind telling me what you're doing up here?"

"Fighting Darkness, as you are."

"Right, got that. But why are you with us, and not going to help Eir and Kris?"

Sigurd didn't say anything for a moment. Brain wasn't sure if that was because he was stalling for time, or because of Darkness, still close on their heels. Magic crashed behind them, and Brain thought he could hear the sound of something screeching. He had turned, magic exploding in a spell of his own, when Sigurd finally spoke: "I made a promise that I would keep you away from Darkness."

Brain huffed a sardonic sort of laugh. "Yeah? How's that going?"

Darkness lunged toward them. Brain threw up a barrier, and the shadows crashed into and over it, spraying across the buildings like water. Brain's arms shook, straining under the effort of keeping the barrier in place.

"It's not—I made that promise, originally, for a goal that—that I didn't realize couldn't be fulfilled. It's what started this—but it's not why I'm here now."

The barrier was starting to crack. Brain took a breath, preparing himself to have to move quickly.

Skuld beat him to it. She shot overhead, chains flinging down toward him, and he reached up to grab them, gripping the back of Sigurd's jacket with one hand. The two of them flew into open sky as the barrier broke, shadows crashing in a wave behind them. Brain released the chains and watched as Darkness arced all the way down to the streets, cracking into the cobblestones. They spilled between the buildings, twisting over and over themselves, and he thought he could hear people screaming. With a curse he shot a spell after them, watching it light up the sky. Kvasir was already moving, leaping down to pull people out of the streets and to safety.

Sigurd cast an Aero spell; they fell, gentler, toward the roof of a building. "I've seen what you've had to go through," he said, quiet. "You, and Master Skuld. Maybe not all of it, but—I understand why Luxu asked me to keep an eye on you, now." He forced Brain to look at him, and even if he couldn't see the other wielder's eyes, it felt like he had pinned him, serious. "Brain. You shouldn't have to be the one to fight Darkness. You shouldn't have had to then—and you shouldn't have to now. And I know that 'shouldn't' doesn't change much about what the reality is, but—I would like to help, in what ways I can."

(Shouldn't. Brain didn't know why that word struck something deep in his chest, but it did. It rattled there, shaking with his breathing. Shouldn't.)

He took an unsteady breath, turning away. "Doesn't matter," he said, whisper-quiet. "It is what it is."

"Brain—"

The world rumbled. Sigurd wobbled, and Brain lashed out, grabbing the collar of his shirt. He pulled him back from the edge roughly, but his eyes had already snapped to the horizon, where Darkness was rolling up and over and around the buildings, two shapes darting in and out, spells singing from their Keyblades.

A steadying breath, in, and out. "Come on," he said. "We need to catch up to them."

"…Right."

Brain wasn't entirely sure how to feel about Sigurd keeping his word; there was a strange ache in his chest as the other wielder followed him, shooting toward the shadows by his side.

Brain could feel the impact of the fight before he'd even reached them again; the energy hummed, hot and cold in spurts, brushing against his skin and making it prickle. Vibrations ran through his feet, making his legs shake as he leapt from the building, to the street, Sigurd close on his heels.

Darkness curled through the sky, many-legged body swarming across the buildings in a wide arc. Skuld and Kvasir were chasing them, alternating spell after spell as they tried to land a hit. Brain skidded to a halt in the center of the plaza; Master's Defender lifted, humming with energy, and—

("You've got this."

"Keep fighting!"

"We're with all of you.")

Light burst from the tip. It exploded in rapid-fire shots, peppering the shadows, Master's Defender following the beast around and around the edges of the plaza until, finally, they turned back toward him. Darkness rose, one great, terrifying creature, jagged jaws dragged open. Something dark and almost like fire sprayed across the air between them, and Sigurd leapt forward to meet it, Keyblade swinging upward to form an arcing barrier. Skuld appeared high above the creature's head; she swung down in a spinning arc, cutting through what would've been their neck, if it'd had a physical form. Darkness unfurled themselves, spinning around in a wave that cut through buildings and streets.

Chains flicked from Master's Defender; Skuld caught them, and he dragged her to safety behind their barrier. Where's…?

A burst of fire, and then of ice—Kvasir, from the far side of the plaza. When Darkness turned toward him he fired another shot, then ran, and the shadows pursued, close on his heels.

In a heartbeat, the rest of them were following, racing across the streets in an attempt to keep up.

Something like thunder rumbled overhead. A Thundaga spell cracked through the shadows, littering sparks. Brain shielded his head, then moved, kicking off the wall of one building, then another, and swinging Master's Defender in an arc, spinning through the cloud. Smoke trailed around him, sticking to his cheeks and shoulders.

A shape moved at his other side. Skuld. She dove, launching herself head-first into Darkness, and for a moment, the whole cloud glowed. The shadows moved, bunching together, and then spinning rapidly, sending her flying. She caught herself, Kvasir leaping to take her place—but Brain could hear her shouts of, "Mimir!" lifted above the din.

His lips pressed into a line, but he didn't have much time to dwell on it; Darkness cracked against a building, snapping sharply sideways, then shifted, their whole form changing. One line of shadows cracked down on top of a building, and another, and another; Brain moved to stay ahead of them, only half-turned back to keep an eye on where they were, debris showering across his heels and peppering his back. Sigurd and Kvasir ran on either side of Darkness, spells flicking from their Keyblades as they tried to cut through the lines. Kvasir's eyes flicked, almost desperately, to the sky—but there was no sign of their friend.

Brain breathed out a slow breath, then spun on his heel. Master's Defender shot up, shaking with the vibrations of a growing spell; the sphere of light fired, and he rocked back with the motion of it. Someone steadied him—Skuld, he realized after a moment, and he gave her a quick nod.

It didn't last. The shadows parted around the spell, swallowing it, and the two of them leapt apart, Darkness crashing into the place where they'd once stood. Brain half-expected them to rise, but they…didn't. Instead, they seemed to disappear, dragged down below the streets, and the patches of darkness below.

He landed, watching warily. The others perched on the rooftops around him, scanning the streets. Master's Defender hummed, and he clenched it a little tighter, tense.

Nothing. No movement. Everything was still and quiet, until—

Something was shifting beneath his feet.

He kicked away just in time; the shadows shot upward, a burst of Darkness cracking into the sky. They arced up and over and down, slamming into the ground and disappearing again.

Another flicker of shadows—under Skuld, this time. She was moving before they'd had time to rise, and Darkness twisted after her, crashing into the ground where she'd been only half a moment before. They rose, and fell, and rose again, and the four of them ran, sprinting to try and stay ahead of the onslaught. They crashed into buildings, streets, gardens, popping out from the walls and the ground and anything that had a solid surface.

There, on the wall—Brain ducked, skidding underneath it, twisting to fire a spell back toward their opponent. A twisting, jagged shadow whipped back through an alleyway, crashing into him, and for a moment he couldn't breathe—

"Do you think you can save them this time, Little Light? How long will you delay the inevitable?"

Something crashed into him, and as he was torn out of the shadows the two of them rolled, over and over, across the street. Skuld was pulling him back to his feet in an instant, dragging him along behind her as the shadows whipped around, disappearing into the building beside them.

Up above—Darkness shot in a burst from near the top of a building. Kvasir moved, cutting through them with a glowing blade, and it diverted their path just enough that they missed their target. Another twist, and they'd burst from a different building, crashing sideways. Kvasir ducked, Keyblade stabbing into the side of the building, and he swung around and down to dodge the blow.

A burst from below, and then beside, and then above; the four of them congregated together, Keyblades flashing, spells flying as they tried to beat the shadows away, moving, moving, moving. Up onto the rooftops, splitting apart to dodge a sudden rain of attacks; back down to the streets, swinging low behind a building as Darkness crashed overhead. Brain's arms and legs and chest ached, and when he breathed, he could taste something metallic on the back of his tongue.

(How long can you keep running? How soon before you don't have the energy to keep going anymore?)

Another explosion of shadows to his right; Brain turned, and it hit him, suddenly, that there was no way he'd be able to dodge the attack in time.

A spell hit his side, this time—light enough not to hurt much, but with enough force to push him out of the way. He turned, and it felt a little like he was moving in slow motion.

A familiar figure hovered in the place where he'd been. He stared at him, and his mind scrambled to process what he was seeing. Sigurd. Sigurd's taking the attack for me. He's—

Time started moving again. The shadows slammed into Sigurd, engulfing him.

Brain moved before he'd really thought about it. He turned, kicking toward the shadows—but someone else was faster.

He barely recognized Kvasir as he moved; he looked more like a blur, shooting through the shadows and slamming into Sigurd. The two of them tore free and hit the ground with a painful-looking thud, rolling over and over themselves.

"Sigurd!" Brain hated how his voice cracked, but he kept going, anyways, trying to get a better look at the two of them. "Kvasir! Are you alright?"

Kvasir lifted his head. He gave him a weak smile, looking like he was going to say something—and then his eyes widened, the words morphing into something that looked like, "Look out!"

Darkness fell overhead. Brain's head snapped up, and he kicked backward. The shadows crashed down; they sprayed across him as he moved, and he held his breath and tried to ignore just how close they were.

Chains wrapped around his waist. He felt himself dragged back and up, away from the grasping shadows. His feet hit a rooftop, unsteady; Skuld reached out to balance him, expression creased with worry.

"Thanks."

"Of cour—" she started, and cut off, dragging him into a run. A half-glance backward showed him why: Darkness was crawling across the buildings, spread out in a cloud after them, eyes gleaming like lightning. Brain caught his breath, then turned and ran, footfalls keeping pace with his friend.

The two of them raced across the streets, always a half-step ahead of the shadows. They zig-zagged back and forth over the rooftops, spinning occasionally to send spells in their wake. A burst of light, a flicker of ice, a crash of lightning—they left pockmarks in the mist, brief glowing patches that lit up the sky, but they didn't stop Darkness's steady advance.

"Got any plans?" he called, glancing toward Skuld.

She shook her head, helpless. "Mimir!" she shouted, like she was hoping they could hear her—like they'd try to fight from within. But there was nothing—no movement, no sign that Mimir knew they were there at all. "We'll just…have to keep fighting," Skuld said, quiet. She glanced at Brain. "Have you seen…?"

"No." And it burned, because Luxu was supposed to be here. (Maybe it means you won't have to give yourself up, a small part of him thought, and he tried to crush it before it could take root too deeply. He couldn't afford to let it; they needed to keep Scala safe.) "Maybe—shit." The shadows were too close, now, and both of them spun. Ice came from Skuld's Keyblade, Mines from his. Glowing patches appeared along a tall, icy barrier; they expanded and exploded, ice and fire scattering in all directions, and Darkness billowed between it, carrying the debris in one molten cloud.

Brain caught Skuld, swinging him behind her, and threw up a shield. Darkness passed over them, and ice and fire buffeted their shield; he could see the cracks and dents, glinting ominously in the barrier, and he winced and tried not to think of what would happen if it broke.

Skuld grabbed him, now, and then she was moving, shouting, "Open the barrier a little!"

With a little focus, he obeyed, ignoring the growing headache. A scattershot of light fired from Starlight's tip, the bursts crashing into bits of debris. Colorful explosions lit up the shadows, ice and fire and other things deflected.

Brain took a deep breath, then moved, wind starting to swirl around his Keyblade. Skuld had, apparently, caught onto what he was doing, because when the barrier fell she was ready at his back, Keyblade lifted with twin cries of, "Aeroga!" The twister caught the mist, spinning it around and around, a glowing storm of fire and ice and shadows. The two of them spun with it—and then, their Keyblades swung outward, and the wind moved with them. Darkness scattered, thrown wide around them, blanketing the city's skies in dangerous, burning patches—but the patch where they hovered was bare.

Brain's feet hit the rooftops, then Skuld's. Thunder rumbled; overhead, Darkness was starting to collect themselves again, a swirling mass of shadows and energy. The two of them moved, and a heartbeat later, something crashed into the space they'd been, and then again, and again, bursts of shadows sending debris scattering across their backs.

Run, turn, fire. Spin back around, defend your friend's back. Cut at shadows that couldn't be hit, dodge an attack. Run and run and run, until Brain's legs and chest burned.

(And Darkness was still there, chasing close behind—always ready to strike, never tired, not even a little. How much longer could they keep running? How much further could they go before—)

"They buildings are running out!"

Brain snapped back into focus at Skuld's shout. He looked ahead, and—so they were. He could see the edges of an open area, just ahead. "Guess we're taking this to the streets, then."

It took longer than it perhaps should've, to realize he knew where he was. But—it was hard to forget someplace that had such meaning to both of them.

The plaza opened up below him. The Founder's Fountain was still standing, amazingly, even if much around it wasn't. There were people fighting in the streets, trying to beat back Heartless—but they slowed when they saw them, looking up one by one, faces gradually lighting up in something that looked like hope.

"The Union Leaders!"

"They can help—they beat it in the stories, right?"

"Maybe things aren't hopeless, after all."

Brain landed, awkward, and was uncomfortably aware of the Founder's Fountain behind him. (Ephemer. The one who was supposed to wield Master's Defender. The one who—)

Skuld hit the ground in front of him, and Brain moved to steady her almost without thinking. She looked…tired, he realized. Her expression was pinched, face covered in grime. Her armor was covered in dents and nicks; there were pieces of it missing, and it made something tighten around his chest.

Skuld turned to give him a small, grateful smile, but there was still an exhausted tilt to her smile.

Brain…felt like he should say something. He didn't know what it was—so instead he just tilted his head, questioning, toward the crowd. They had gone quiet, watching them with naked hope, like they were expecting them to have answers. What do we do about them?

Skuld turned to follow his look, and her expression pinched. Her eyes flicked across them, like she didn't have an answer, either. But then she took a breath, and squared her shoulders. She glanced back at him, and he wasn't sure what she was looking for, but he guessed she must've gotten it, because she turned back to the crowd with a steelier expression. "Everyone—"

"You think the Union Leaders are here to save you?"

Something cold trickled down Brain's spine. A shadow crawled across the plaza, turning everything dark. It felt like something was trickling down Brain's chest, clinging sticky to his shirt and skin.

Uneasy murmurings rose, slowly, from the crowd. A couple took uneasy steps back, exchanging glances with each other.

Skuld snapped into action; her head whipped back and forth, Starlight lifted to parry any oncoming blows.

It was still Brain that noticed first; the shadows grew thicker, larger, and he'd reacted before he even really had the chance to think about it, lunging to grab Skuld's arm and tug her out of the way. A large, dark claw crashed into the ground where she'd been just a moment before; it pulled away, tearing great chunks of the street with it.

A mass of darkness crawled over the edge of the Founder's Fountain. They bubbled over Ephemer's arms and legs, spilling into tainted water. One massive claw gripped the statue's shoulder. A giant, shapeless head twisted slowly toward them, yellow eyes gleaming—and when they spoke, all Brain could hear were the voices of the Dandelions, damning.

"It is an understandable belief. You have grown up on stories of legendary heroes—the people who formed the very foundation of your city."

The shadows flashed; the two of them split apart, dodging toward opposite ends of the street. Brain was suddenly, acutely aware of their audience, and flicked Master's Defender to try and throw a barrier over them.

Something crashed into his stomach; he went flying across the street, breath driven out of him, cracking into the ground before he'd even entirely had the chance to process what was happening.

"Brain!"

"You know them from the stories—but you do not know them. You do not know us. You know a tale of heroes who are able to turn a tragedy into a victory. But in the end, the Union Leaders were very human—scared children who were given a roll greater than they were able to bear."

He could hear Skuld's shout of alarm; the clang of something against her Keyblade. Brain pushed himself to his feet, and with a sharp breath, forced himself back into motion. Master's Defender flashed, a spell cutting through the shadows pressing against Skuld's blade.

(He could feel the eyes of the other wielders, watching him. Staring at Master's Defender. Judging whether or not he was worthy enough to wield it.)

The shadows spun. Brain leapt, trying to jump over them, and nearly got caught in another attack. Light spun around him in a makeshift barrier, desperate to keep Darkness away from him.

Chains flashed in his direction—Skuld, he realized, trying to send something to tether them together. He reached for them, one desperate hand stretching out—

And then, just as suddenly, he was torn away. He could hear Skuld shouting after him; see her dragged away, too, thrown in the other direction, and he thought he could hear himself shouting her name, but it was hard to hear over the sound of, you failed you failed you're failing again—

He cracked against something. The world, for a moment, went eerily silent. Everything spun; he could feel the way his breathing shuddered in his chest, painful and disorienting.

The world was…blurry. But he thought he could see the shadows, their jaws a jagged grin. "You cannot look to them to save you now."

And then, there was nothing at all.

-For all of the importance of the role, being a Keeper was often now a particularly eventful job.

Every Keeper was meant to see to the needs of their world—to check the borders for Heartless, to see what was thriving and what wasn't, to keep tabs on the going-ons of those outside the world who may harm it. They were trained to prepare them for protecting the world, should it start to fall, but rarely were those trainings needed—once, maybe twice in a century, if that.

It's unfortunate it has happened in our time, Freya thought grimly. The barrier had finally made it to the edges of the main island. It had kept some of the Heartless out, at least—but not enough. And it'd done nothing for the shadows that emerged within the barrier. She had seen wielders fighting them; she didn't know if they'd been successful.

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

They weren't look at her; they were staring across the city, expression grim. The Darkness rolled overhead, looming and heavy. "Yeah. A few."

"How close are we?"

It was an unpleasant thought, but there was no point in ignoring the danger. Better to face it head on, and see if they could stave off some of the damage.

Meili was silent a moment. They turned, eyes sweeping back toward the Heartless. "It's bad," they said, finally. "We could still turn things back, if we tried hard enough."

"But you believe we're too close to the edge."

"I think there's more Heartless than we can handle right now." They turned their attention back toward the looming cloud of shadows. Lightning had started to crackle overhead, the sky tinted red. "And I'm worried about that."

The wind had started to pick up, a little; no storm had started yet, but Freya could feel the prickle of it on her skin.

"Do you have any way to contain it?" Meili gestured broadly. "It might be more manageable than the Heartless right now."

"Not contain. But we can shore up the buildings and streets—try to mitigate the damage."

"Master Freya! Master Freya!"

The voice carried, drifting to her across the buildings. She turned, seeing two young wielders racing toward her. She frowned a moment, searching her memory. They were…students, she believed. Mimir's class. They were—

Eir, I believe. And Kris.

She tilted her head, curious. She wondered what it meant, that they seemed to be looking for her specifically.

"Master Freya—" Eir reached her first, breathing hard. She bent over herself, dragging in heavy breaths. "There's—we need help with—your Keyblade—"

Her curiosity deepened. The Keeper's Keyblade hummed a little, seeming like it was starting to come to life. "Yes…?"

"It's—we need—"

"Sigurd said it could find Luxu," Kris interjected, and then her face contorted. "Ah, shit, you probably don't even know who those people are."

"He's important," Eir added. "Luxu, I mean."

"Master Brain was looking for him, I guess—"

"They have a plan to—to defeat that thing—"

"And it just fucking swallowed Mimir or something—"

Freya's skin prickled. "What did?"

A pause. "Uh. The…cloud," Eir said, looking a little embarrassed.

"What."

That was Meili, voice laced with fury and fear. Freya extended an arm, pre-emptively keeping them there—but her eyes went out, to where the shadows still were.

She could feel the two young wielders staring at her.

"…Explain."

-"Are you watching, Little Light?"

You were. It was hard not to, when Darkness held you captive. You stared through their eyes, and you watched as the place that had become your home started to fall apart, crumbling underneath an enemy you had helped bring here.

You tugged. Darkness had wrapped tendrils around your arms and legs and chest. They hadn't covered your mouth, and you weren't sure why. Maybe they wanted a response. You weren't sure if you wanted to give it to them.

"Your friends made an admirable effort."

Your eyes narrowed. You twisted a little, like you could tear free from the shadows. You hadn't succeeded yet, but it wouldn't stop you from trying.

"But they cannot defeat us—not like this. You know this—and so do they."

Darkness's voice was surprisingly gentle. You hated it—hated the way they pretended to care about and coddle you while they held you captive. Hated that they were still the one that was destroying Scala (that had destroyed Daybreak Town). Hated that they were hurting your friends, and you could do nothing this time. There were no tricks left—not that you could pull off.

But there was a truth, maybe, that you thought you understood a little better now.

You lifted your chin, and decided—if Darkness wanted a conversation, perhaps you would give them one. And so you spoke, pulling on something like conviction, deep within your chest:

"You're wrong."

-"Anchor the barrier!"

There was a great, booming noise, like the rumbling of a giant gate. The Keepers stepped away, the barrier sending light cascading across them. It shone stubbornly bright, despite the slowly-darkening world.

Freya's eyes narrowed up at the sky. Something was starting to swirl up there—a storm slowly brewing, winds tugging on her clothes. She could hear the way shingles were starting to rattle.

Her gaze lowered—to the low-flying shadows, hovering through the streets. Her grip tightened around her Keyblade. She didn't know how, exactly, it could find this mysterious Master—and neither had the students. But if it could help—she would try.

"Meili," she said, "take over for me."

(She thought about asking Frigga—but the Head of the Council didn't protest, watching in exhausted silence. And Meili was the one who knew more about what to do when a world was falling; if anyone could handle this, it'd be them.)

"Keepers," she said, voice lifting, "reinforce what you can. Buildings, streets—we need to do what we can to help our world survive the storm. Take out the Heartless within the barrier; send any wielders you find up here."

A chorus of agreement went up around her.

Freya glanced back, briefly. She surveyed her Keepers—a small group, but skilled, and hopefully ready to put what they knew into practice. She took a breath, turned, and leapt down into the city.

She didn't know where the Union Leaders were—didn't know if they were still alive. She didn't have time to think about it, now. We have trained for this. We will do what we can, where we can.

We cannot rely on legends to save us.

-"We can't fight you. Not the normal way. But you can't beat us, either—not really."

Your voice was raw and cracked, but you spoke, anyways, glaring into the shadows.

"Oh?" Darkness's voice rumbled, amused, and you could feel the way it vibrated in your chest.

"You're only temporary. You grow stronger, and stronger, and it feels like there's nothing left to hold onto—and maybe things are horrible. Maybe the world ends, and people die, and it feels like there's nowhere we can go from here—but despite everything, life keeps going."

-"Shore up that building!"

Even as Freya moved, she barked orders, her eyes skating across Scala ad Caelum's streets. Her Keepers moved around her, coordinating to try and piece together their world.

"Over here, over here!"

"Throw the ropes!"

Long, glowing lines stretched from the tips of Keyblades. They stuck to the tops of buildings and anchored them to the streets, one after another, carefully cut like threads.

"More—we need to keep these things steady!"

"I'm working on it!"

"Put some across the streets, here!"

They will be alright, Freya thought. She turned away from them—from the chaos, and the growing storm, and lifted the Keeper's Keyblade. Her eye met the single one in the weapon, and she gripped the hilt a little tighter. Now—where are you?

That glowing eye seemed to gleam—and, for a moment, the Keyblade burned in her palm.

-"Maybe it's not a lot. Maybe it's just one person, surviving after the end of the world." Your throat tightened, and…you thought of Ephemer. Of how he might've felt, when he'd first realized that he'd lost his world. Of what it must've taken, to find the strength to go on. "But Scala ad Caelum came from the ruins of Daybreak Town."

-The Keeper's Keyblade was, more often than not, sleeping, compared to its other ancient counterpart. But it was awake, now, and Freya could feel something ancient slowly pouring through her palms. It made her blood sing with it, the voices of past wielders humming in her chest.

That eye seemed to shift and move. It seemed, almost, like it was looking for something.

And then she felt a tug—something slight, pulling her deeper into the city. Toward the shadows. A low voice whispered through her ears: That way.

Freya ran.

The streets passed in a blur. She could see other wielders, still out trying to combat the Heartless. She could see her Keepers, if only briefly, watching as they tried to shore up their city and protect it from further destruction. She could see the afterimages of familiar places, only barely recognizable between the destruction.

But, mostly, she could see the ghosts.

She was starting to understand what Master Brain had meant, when he had talked about the ghosts that seemed attached to Master's Defender. The memories of past wielders whispered through her ears and made everything hum with a power that felt too big for her; she could barely keep track of the words, scattered fragments passed back and forth between specters:

"…where are we…"

"Going to…I know you…"

"You aren't…that body…"

And there was something there—something deeper. The image of a man in a black coat. Watching. Waiting.

The Keyblade hummed. The further she went, the clearer that image seemed to grow. It was a disconcerting feeling, almost; she could feel the Keyblades excitement, burning so bright that it almost overwhelmed her.

She didn't realize what she was running toward, at first. Her vision was spotted with half-complete visions of places she didn't know, and it flickered with the afterimages even as she moved into a large, open area. She didn't entirely realize the shadows were real and present until something had crashed down toward her.

Her footsteps stumbled. She leapt back, just in time. The Keeper's Keyblade was screaming, like it wanted to drag her beyond the shadows to whoever lay beyond.

The shadows rose in front of her, curled like a giant snake. Great, glowing eyes peered down from them, narrowed in something that might've been amusement.

Freya stared up at them—and then her attention turned beyond them, toward the buildings, where this mysterious master might lay.

She thought, almost, that she saw the shadows grin—and then they lunged, and she jumped to meet them.

-"It is a big task, to rebuild a world. Do you think you can do it alone?"

"We don't have to." You thought, for a moment, of sitting in Meili's apartment. Of Skuld and Brain and Kvasir—friends this new you had made. And you thought of watching them slowly grow together—of that healing hole in your heart, where your missing people rested. You thought of what all of you might be able to build together, if given the chance.

"And if this is the end?" Darkness asked, and it sounded, almost, like they were humoring. "What will you do if there is nothing left to come back from?"

"Then we'll fight." You strained against the shadows, and could feel the way they pulled—but you fought back, anyways, feeling something grow warmer inside your chest. "You asked me if I was watching—are you?"

-(There was chaos, in the streets of Scala ad Caelum. Heartless crawled between the buildings, scrambling over the remains of lives. Their claws tore through sets of clothing, picked carefully at toys, clambered through windows as they squabbled over dropped items like children. Bits and pieces of the streets were starting to tear away, tugged up and up and up by a steadily growing force—magical in nature, with all the power of a great storm.

But there were also people trying to beat back the shadows.

There—a wielder who'd found a child left behind, hiding behind a fallen board. He lifted a toy, smiling—a favorite of theirs, thought to be lost in the rubble. The child reached for it, hugging it tight, and let the wielder coax them out and toward safety.

There—a group of Keepers, working to reinforce the streets. They sent spells flying, rope-like structures stretched between buildings and the streets. They glowed, small bits of light within the darkness.

There—a couple of people, cornered by Heartless. One of them put up a barrier, rapidly motioning for their allies to flee—and then launched themself at the Heartless to buy the others time.

The world had descended into chaos, maybe—but there were always people who were willing to combat it, if given the chance.)

-"Look. Even with everything you're doing—people haven't given up. They're fighting Heartless and getting each other to safety and trying to patch up buildings. Maybe it's pointless—but they're still trying. You can't destroy that—not forever."

In your hands, New Dawn burned. Light flared, bright, and with a cry you'd torn yourself free, the last remains of Darkness sticking tacky against your back and legs. New Dawn swung downward, shining—and there you stood, even in the shadows, with your chin held high.

-Pain lanced through Freya's back. The Keeper's Keyblade flew, torn from her hand, and she felt strangely empty in its absence.

She didn't know where it landed; she didn't know if she had time to worry about it. The shadows were still hovering over her, and she wouldn't let herself bend to them.

Her personal Keyblade came to her hands. Without pausing, she launched herself toward her opponent.

-"You call me your favorite," you said, very quiet. "If I asked you—would you leave? As a favor?"

"You know we cannot do that, Little Light."

The apology sounded genuine.

You closed your eyes tight. New Dawn burned in your grip, and you clenched it, tighter, then lifted your weapon.

"You will fight, then."

They didn't sound surprised; they sounded…approving, almost. You nodded, firm—and then you swung down, New Dawn burning bright.

-Skuld…wasn't sure what she was doing, anymore.

Her legs ached; she was nearly out of magic. She'd been stumbling around Scala's streets for a while now, trying to find Brain and keep track of Darkness and find Luxu, and—it hadn't been working, really. She had run into more Heartless. People, occasionally; they'd stopped and stared, like they couldn't recognize that she was one of the Union Leaders, at first. It made her feel, uncomfortably, like she'd failed them.

…Maybe she had.

Keep moving. You have to keep going. You have to—

To do what? What are you going to do? This whole plan—Brain isn't even here.

She blinked, and tried to focus. She was…back at the Clock Tower, she realized slowly. She wondered if her feet had dragged her to the place because it was familiar—or, at least, as familiar as it would get, here. It was still standing, but she could see the effects of the fight—the smudges and cracks through the outer walls, the streaks of ash. It hadn't fallen, like Daybreak Town's had—but she could still see it, in her mind's eye, and she closed her eyes and breathed and tried to gather some sort of energy to move.

It's happening again. It's going to happen again. Everyone is—everything Ephemer built—it's going to fall apart.

Unless someone does something.

She didn't know if she had time to—to go back and grab the box, before everything fell apart. She needed to—to attract Darkness's attention. Somehow. And then—then maybe she could lead them there. To the box. And then—

Things will be okay, again. They have to be.

She turned, slowly, back to the Clock Tower. It would be a painful walk, back to the top—but it would also be the easiest place to spot her from. And so slowly, slowly, she moved, Keyblade dragging against the ground behind her.

-The shadows split in two, and Mimir gasped. The air hit them, cold against their clammy skin. Their feet hit the ground, heavy, and they stumbled as they tried to catch themself.

It was…much louder here, than it had been when they'd been trapped. The wind howled, a buzzing noise humming low over the buildings. People shouted, calling orders and checking in on others and lifting their voices in alarm. Structures crumbled, and Heartless crawled between them, almost-human voices chattering to each other.

They lifted their head, and found Master Freya staring at them.

She'd called her personal Keyblade to her, and had it lifted toward them, like she'd been about to strike before she'd realized who had emerged. Blood trickled down her head. Her mouth hung half open, eyes wide, and Mimir wasn't entirely sure what to make of her expression.

(They didn't see the others—Kvasir or Skuld or Brain. They hoped they were okay.)

There was a noise behind them, like a deep intake of breath. Darkness. Darkness is still there.

They whipped around, Keyblade lifted, and positioned themself in front of Freya almost instinctively. She huffed in amusement, then stepped up beside them, eyes narrowed.

Above them, Darkness rose, up and up and up. Those great, glowing eyes narrowed, and Mimir stared back, unflinching. "Are you prepared to die to protect your home?"

Mimir nodded, firm.

There was a glimmer of something almost sad in Darkness's eyes. "Very well."

They fell, and Mimir and Freya leapt to meet them.

-The top of the Clock Tower was quiet. It reminded Skuld, painfully, of the last time the world had ended—of being in the lifeboat chamber underneath Daybreak Town, watching with her friends as the world fell apart.

Her chest and side ached. She wasn't sure if she had the energy for a healing spell—wasn't sure if she had the time. Instead, she turned her eyes out toward the city.

Things had started to fall apart, now. Buildings were crumbling. A shadowy orb had started to form in the sky, painfully familiar. And below—

Below, she could see Darkness, swarming toward small figures. If she squinted, she thought she could see—

Mimir. She only had a heartbeat to muster something like relief. They'd gotten free; they were safe; they wouldn't stay that way if she didn't do something.

One steadying breath. Another. And then she lifted Starlight, pouring all of her magic into it until it glowed like a beacon from the top of the Clock Tower.

-(A Keyblade lay, abandoned, in an alleyway. Its current owner was not far away—still fighting Darkness, the sounds of the battle echoing off the streets. But for the moment, it was put out of mind—it was hard to focus on a missing Keyblade, even an ancient one, when there were more pressing dangers to fight.

And so, no one noticed when a figure dressed in black reached down, fingers curling around the Keyblade's hilt. "Hello again, old friend.")

-Mimir had understood what they were doing, when they'd decided to fight Darkness. There was no way to beat them—not really. Their attacks did nothing, magic and spells completely useless against the shadows. They could fend them off for a little while, maybe—but in the end, they would fall, eventually.

But it didn't matter. They would keep going, right until the end.

Another strike, and a leap. The shadows swirled, knocking them back painfully. They could feel the ache in their chest and arms and legs, even as they rolled and lunged again. (But they were still alive—them, and Freya nearby. They wondered if Darkness was holding back—if they were still reluctant to kill their favorite, however hard they fought against them.)

A burst of light. A crack of energy. Everything blurred together, spells and movement and Keyblade strikes, until Mimir could hardly tell one moment from the next. One second, they were fighting; the next, they were being tossed across the plaza; they next, they were on their knees, staring up at those great eyes, and wondering if maybe their energy was finally spent.

(It felt, a little, like it had during the Keyblade War, staring up at that heart-shaped moon and wondering if anyone else was left. There was no Chirithy here to comfort them, this time; they wondered if they'd see them again, when they died.)

Light flickered at the edge of their vision, and for half a moment, Mimir thought the memory had bled into the waking world. But then Darkness turned, great head shifting up, and up, and Mimir realized they weren't imagining things, at all.

"What is…?" Freya whispered, and trailed off slowly.

Mimir squinted. They couldn't make out much—all they could see was a blurry spot of light, near the skyline. Still, it reminded them of—

…Skuld?

"It appears you are not the only one who wants an audience with us." Darkness glanced back toward them, and there was something like affection in the look. "We hope to see you live another day, Little Light."

Mimir's legs shook as they tried to stand. As Darkness moved away, they tried to jump, and found themself crashing back into the ground. Their fingers curled, exhausted, against the cobblestones.

When they looked up, Darkness was already near the top of the Clock Tower, light just barely shining behind its cloudy form.

A hand rested on their back—Freya, they realized after a moment. Her eyes were focused on the sky, too, but her words were directed at them. "We should regroup," she said, quiet. "We are some of the last left in the streets, besides Heartless."

Mimir fumbled, reaching for their magic, and—she was right, they realized. There were still flickers of living hearts, but they were fading into the distance, fleeing from the chaos. "But—" They broke off, staring at the Clock Tower.

Freya's lips pursed. "We will have to trust that whoever's up there can handle themself."

Mimir wanted to argue; they didn't have the energy to. They let themself be carried away by Freya—toward the barrier, still glowing in the distance. Please stay safe, they thought. Please.

-(Meili met them when they arrived at the barrier's edge, wrapping them in a tight hug. "Damn it, kid. Stop trying to give me a heart attack."

Mimir took a shaking breath, and then hugged them back. "I couldn't do much," they whispered, and they heard their voice crack. "Even thought—"

"Don't. You did enough. You all did."

Their eyes stung. They twisted, glancing over Meili's shoulder. Kvasir and a tired Sigurd were already there; Kvasir gave them a weak smile, and it wasn't much, but they smiled back. It may be the end of the world—but at least they'd face it together.)

-The world rumbled. Brain could feel it more than hear it, the vibrations traveling up through his palms and cheek.

(You think the Union Leaders are here to save you?)

Everything ached. He thought he could feel bruises patterning his chest and side. His ribs felt a little like something was out of place. He cracked his eyes open; everything was blurry, but he thought he could make out a familiar gray shape, standing in the background.

(You know them from the stories—but you do not know them. You do not know us. You know a tale of heroes who are able to turn a tragedy into a victory. But in the end, the Union Leaders were very human—scared children who were given a roll greater than they were able to bear.)

There was…a shape approaching him. Blurry and black, trails of a long coat sweeping across the ground. Brain tried to push himself to his feet with a grunt, but his arms were shaky.

(You cannot look to them to save you now.)

Something cool washed over him. The aches faded; it felt like he could breathe again, sucking in a breath with a shuddering gasp.

Another rumble; he could hear it better this time, sound and sight slowly coming into focus. Dust cascaded over his head and back, and he coughed on it.

When he looked up, he saw a familiar figure in a black coat.

Neither of them said anything for several moments. For a heartbeat, it felt a little like Brain was back in the lifeboat chamber, trying desperately to figure out a way to save the others—and being, very suddenly, given a chance to save himself.

(He could still hear the sounds of fighting, in the distance. Shouting, lifted high above the noise. Heartless, chittering in the shadows. The world was cracking apart beneath his fingertips, and his fingers curled against the ground, painful.)

"Luxu." The word came out sticky, painful in the back of his throat. He…wasn't sure how to feel about finding him.

(There are no excuses left. No more delaying.)

He gave a laugh that was half a cough, still jagged around the edges. "Finally found me, huh? Guess we made quite a spectacle of ourselves."

Luxu didn't move; he just stood there, eerily still, and watched.

The buildings shook; a tile fell from the edge of one, cracking onto the ground and shattering.

Brain breathed out a long, slow breath, and when he spoke, he had to force the words out: "Well. You ready to hold up your end of the deal?"

Luxu tilted his head, just a little. "…Are you sure you want to go through with this, kid?"

(No, some part of him whispered, but—

But Scala ad Caelum was falling apart, just like Daybreak Town had.

But his friends were out there, fighting, and he had to make sure they were safe, this time.

But the only other way to stop Darkness was by giving up the Dandelions, and he'd been given a second chance, he couldn't do that. He had to make the most of it. If there was any reason he was here—that was it. It had to be.)

"Yes," he whispered.

(He thought, for a moment, of the others. Of Kvasir, who might actually have a chance to sort out the mess with his family and what he wanted his life to look like. Of Mimir, who would get to live longer than they had in their first life, and hopefully get to build something for themself. Of Skuld, who—who might get the chance to heal and be happy, after everything.

…He wished he would get to see it.)

(Don't think like that. You can't.)

The world rumbled. There was a screeching, tearing sound, like something cutting against metal. Brain's head snapped up, Master's Defender snapping to his hand almost on instinct. The shadows curled overhead; he thought he could see them swirling around the Clock Tower, in the distance. And—and there was light, there, glimmering from the top.

Skuld.

"Better get going, then," Luxu said, quiet. He'd turned to look, too, attention focused on the mass of shadows.

"Right." Brain hefted himself to his feet, and tried to ignore the way his legs still felt rubbery, the jittery nervousness in his chest, and way Master's Defender seemed to burn with silent protests. He tried to ignore it, but still…hesitated, for just a moment. "You'll…be right behind me?"

(It felt like an uncomfortably vulnerable question. It shouldn't matter—or, more, accurately, it should only matter for the purpose of—of finishing the job.

…But it would be…easier, he thought. If he knew he wasn't going to be alone.)

"…Yeah. Be right there."

Brain nodded. He couldn't bring himself to look at Luxu; couldn't bring himself to say anything else, words caught in his throat. With a breath he moved, Master's Defender swinging around, chains flying from the tip. Up and up and up he went, flying skyward—toward the shadows hovering overhead, and the shape already up there with them.

(…I'm sorry.)

-It was the second time Skuld had watched her world end from the top of the Clock Tower. She couldn't make out individuals from here—they were too far away, tiny shapes running through the streets. But she could make out places, if she tried hard enough.

She could see the place where Brain's apartment had been; the building was cracked and crumbling, now, falling in on itself. (She wondered what had happened to her place, back in Daybreak Town. She'd thought, for half a moment, about trying to find it, when the world had been falling. It would've been a foolish choice, to run into a falling world for nothing but memories—but she'd almost made it, anyways, when it felt like she was losing everything else.)

The training fields; the stands were starting to crumble, Heartless scrambling over the tops to try and tackle Keyblade wielders. She remembered that there were statues of past heroes, underneath them—legends of people, besides her own. She wondered if she'd get the chance to hear them, still. (There had been places to train in Daybreak Town, too—pockets of space, clear of plants and benches and buildings, hemmed by the familiar colorful houses. Other wielders would sometimes gather to watch and cheer each other on; sometimes, though, they could mostly practice on their own, hidden away. She hadn't been able to see them, when Daybreak Town had been falling; most of the cobblestones had been torn away, spiraling toward the sky.)

Ephemer's fountain was—still in one piece, she realized, and it made her eyes sting. But the ground beneath it was cracked; parts of the streets had broken and dipped, tilting inward, like the world underneath was crumbling apart. (She had looked, desperately, for the fountain, when Daybreak Town had fallen. She'd wanted to cry when she'd finally seen it, crumbling and broken.)

A steadying breath. Her throat was tight; her eyes stung. She blinked, and despite the situation, felt strangely…peaceful.

Brain's plan hadn't worked. Maybe it would've, if they'd had more time—but they didn't. Luxu…wasn't here. She didn't doubt that Brain had found him, once, but…he was missing now. Dead or fleeing or just refusing to interfere—she didn't know.

But there was still one way to take control of this whole situation, again; to trap Darkness, and keep them from destroying another home.

Her eyes flicked to the windows—away from the fighting, toward the docks. She could see ships floating on the open ocean. Some of them had made it, then. That was…something, at least. And—and she was going to make sure that they had something to return to.

(All of them would—Scala's citizens, and the council members, and her and Brain and Kvasir and Mimir and—and everyone else. This was just—just one final hurdle. And then, maybe, they could finally make this a home.)

(Will you really be able to live with yourself, after you sacrifice the Dandelions?)

Cold air trailed across her cheeks. A shadow fell across her, too dark to be natural. She took a freezing breath, and turned.

Darkness hovered in the window. Their great, glowing eyes watched her, narrowed curiously. They didn't say anything; they just stared at her, hovering, and she felt strangely bare.

"…Hello."

It didn't necessarily feel appropriate, to be so casual in the face of the world's destruction—but then, she wasn't sure it mattered. It felt strangely freeing, in a way, to know that this was all there was left to do.

Darkness tilted their head. Long claws formed underneath them, clacking against the windowsill. They scanned the room, and seemed to come up empty, finally turned back to her. "Why did you call us here, Little Light?"

"To make a deal."

"With what?" She thought she could see the flicker of a grin, in the shadows, but the eyes were narrowed dangerously. The room grew colder; Skuld's skin prickled, her armor seeming to crack with frost.

"You…like it when people make interesting decisions, right?"

They paused, eying her, and she could almost feel them thinking it over.

She swallowed, and pressed on, trying to ignore the feeling that she was tumbling over a cliff. "I don't have a lot to offer. I don't know how else to make you leave—but I have this. If I can make things interesting enough for you—will you go away?"

Those great eyes narrowed. The arms folded, that great head resting on them. "…Perhaps."

She swallowed, tight. Her skin itched; she felt pinned by Darkness's stare, like some great predator was going to pounce on her. "Do you know what happened to the Dandelions?"

She could almost feel their curiosity, pricking against her skin like ice. "They were lost—trapped within the data world as the real one fell."

"They were," she agreed, "but—but the data-Daybreak Town's still intact."

Those great eyes gleamed, shimmering with interest.

"There's…a box," she continued, and tried to ignore the way the words stuck in the back of her throat. "My friends and I have been looking for it for…a while. And we found it, finally, in the Keyblade Graveyard. It—contains the Dandelions." She lifted her chin, and clenched her fists, and forced herself not to look away. "If I give it to you—will you go away?"

She could feel Darkness's eyes boring into her; she tried not to bend underneath them, shoulders forced back, chin lifted.

The silence stretched—longer, longer, long enough to be painful. It grated on her; outside, the world was still falling, and people were still fighting, and the longer they waited here, the longer it would take to actually fix things.

"I'm one of the Union Leaders," she said, and her voice cracked, but she kept going. "I was supposed to protect the Dandelions. I'm giving them to you—so long as you leave Scala ad Caelum alone."

"…Why?"

It felt like something was breaking inside her—but she pressed on, anyways. "There are—people out there who look up to us. Me and Brain. Who are expecting us to save them. And—and they've lost their homes, before. Some of them. They don't deserve to go through that again." She knew, painfully, what that was like; she tried not to think about the fact that, if she gave up the Dandelions, she'd willingly be giving up her home a second time. (If she thought about it too long, she might decide not to go through with things, after all.) "And even if we found a way to save the Dandelions—would it matter, if they had nowhere to go back to?" She blinked, throat tightening. "The Dandelions are…asleep. If it's them, or the others—at least it would be gentler, if they didn't know. We don't even know if there's a way to get them out at all."

Darkness watched her for a moment longer—and then their head lifted, twisting slowly so that they could look at something behind her.

She caught the sound of footsteps. She turned, carefully, and found herself staring at Brain.

His expression gave away nothing. His eyes flicked from her to Darkness and back.

She clenched her fists so hard that her nails bit into her palms.

"Your friend was just offering me a deal," Darkness said, voice low.

Skuld could feel Brain's eyes on her; she forced herself to meet them. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't—we didn't have enough time—"

He waved her off, and for a moment, she thought he was upset. She wouldn't have blamed him, if he was. He'd…wanted to save the Dandelions. So had she. But…she didn't know what else they were supposed to do.

"…A deal, huh?"

Brain's voice came out surprisingly level. He had one hand shoved in his pocket, smile faux-casual and eyes tight. He moved closer to them, steps measured, until he could stand beside her. "With what? Don't see anything here."

Skuld's skin prickled. Brain wasn't looking at her. Something…wasn't right, here.

Darkness's eyes narrowed. "She was telling us of a box—one that contained your fallen friends." Something flashed, resembling a smile. "She offered to give it to us—and we are considering taking her offer." Skuld's heart skipped a beat. "One world for another. A leader, giving up her people for the sake of a world not her own. It would be a…haunting sort of thing. How would she bend underneath it? How would the world?" Those great eyes flashed. "We would be curious to watch."

"…You don't know what that box does, do you?"

For a moment, Skuld didn't think she heard correctly. She turned, and she stared, and she tried to figure out how to process what she was hearing.

Brain…wasn't looking at her. He was staring up at Darkness, that same faux-casual expression on his face.

"She told you it contains the data-Daybreak Town, right? The one you guys got trapped in before?" He flashed a sharp smile. "Funny that she's trying to lead you to it now."

Something…something wasn't right. He couldn't honestly be trying to sabotage this, could he—not when the world was currently falling.

"Brain," she said in a desperate sort of whisper, "what are you doing?"

He didn't say anything—but his eyes slid toward her, finally, and…she thought she could see regret, there.

It felt like a confirmation. "No. No, you—Brain, there's no other way. We can't—if they stay here, the world's going to fall. We don't have any time left."

There's—there had to be something wrong. Something she was missing. She knew that Brain didn't want to give up the Dandelions—but she also knew her friend. He'd been desperate to try and save the Dandelions before—

The thought froze her. She stared at him, uncertain.

He tried to meet her eyes—but she was watching. His attention had gone to something just slightly to the side. "I'm not going to waste my second chance," he said, in a whisper just loud enough for Darkness to hear.

He's still…he's up to something. But what's…?

"How interesting." Darkness's voice curled around them, the sound rolling like thunder, and Skuld snapped back toward them on instinct. "One leader, willing to give up the past in order to preserve the future. The other, so desperate to cling to it that he would put the rest of the world at risk, just for the chance to make up for his perceived mistakes." The shadows rose, hovering over them. "We wonder—how far would you go? Could you come to some sort of compromise? Or would you fight, convinced of your plan's superiority? Would your friendship survive—and what would occur afterward?"

He's not—he can't really believe that there's still time to do this? That there's some other way to…?

Brain looked back at her, unblinking—but he lifted Master's Defender a little, the keychain rattling.

…There's something wrong. There's something wrong, and I don't know what it is.

"We agree to your deal, Little Light." Darkness moved, and Skuld reacted instinctively, Keyblade lifted like she could keep it at bay if she just focused. "If you are able to bring us the box before the world falls, we will leave." Their eyes flickered with amusement; they moved, curling around Brain's shoulders, and he held, very carefully, still. "But we think, perhaps, you had better hurry. You might have…competition."

…No. No, Brain wouldn't—he wasn't going to fight her for this—

(…Would he?)

"…Brain?" she asked, tentative.

Finally, finally, he met her eyes. He looked like he was searching for…something. She had no idea what it was.

He must not have found it; his expression hardened, and then Master's Defender was lifting.

She realized what was happening a split-second before it did; chains flicked from the tip, and she leapt, dodging out of range.

The chains flicked again, swinging toward her. She moved before she had the chance to think about it, dashing toward the window.

Something caught her arm; she tugged and struggled, and it dawned on her, finally, that maybe he really was serious, and that he would fight, if it meant keeping her from giving up the Dandelions. That he might trap her here until the world fell, out of—

(Something's still not right. There's no way—he wouldn't do this. He wouldn't.

…Right?)

"Brain," she said, desperate, "you have to let me go."

When she glanced back at him, he looked…sad. There was something regretful in his expression—but it didn't stop him from pulling the chains tighter.

Something in her chest felt like it was cracking. With a cry Starlight moved, a spell flying from the tip.

The chains released. Skuld fell. She caught herself with a burst of magic, and then was moving again, streaking across the city—back toward Meili's apartment, where she hoped the box was hiding.

Is it even still there? she wondered. Or did Brain…?

She tried not to think about it; tried not to think about the fact that her friend might be chasing her right now, and instead hurtled across the streets, eyes stinging.

-"You are not chasing her."

Brain lowered Master's Defender, and tried to keep his breathing steady. (His hands were still shaking.) "Nope."

"Why?"

The question rang inside a hollow part of his chest; he tapped Master's Defender against the ground, and tried to pretend that he didn't want to just let her go—to have the chance to actually live, and get to stay with his friends.

But you can't. You know that.

"You're not that gullible, right?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level. "We both know that even if she brings the box back, you're not just going to take it—not when it's so risky."

"Do you, now?" Darkness curled around him, and he tried to ignore the feeling of something cold and sticky, trailing across his skin. "So you think the problem will take care of itself?"

"Not exactly." A steadying breath. You can't keep putting off the inevitable. "I just have a different deal for you—and I don't think she's going to be very happy about what I have to offer."

-"What do you think's happening?" Eir whispered. She was staring up at the Clock Tower, knees hugged to her chest.

Sigurd didn't know—but then, he didn't think she expected anyone to have answers.

Kris was sitting beside her. She looked unusually grim, pressing against her shoulder. Mimir had settled on the edge of the building, still half-perched like they could jump into action at a moment's notice; their attention was still fixed on the Clock Tower, like they were debating whether to follow Darkness or not. Kvasir was pacing, shooting worried looks out into the city.

The Heartless were still scrabbling at the sides of the buildings. Sigurd wondered how many people were left for them to chase, now; they hadn't had anyone new come up here since they'd arrived. Something rumbled in the distance; his eyes trailed upward, and he thought he could make out something, a red-and-black shape starting to swirl in the sky.

A shaky breath from behind him; it took a moment for him to recognize it as Frigga's. She sounded so much more exhausted, than she had before. "We should…leave. There isn't much more we can do here."

Kvasir turned, making a noise of protest. "But we can—"

"No." Frigga's voice wavered, but the command was firm. "There's nothing left to fight for." Her eyes were distant as she gazed at the crumbling city. "Scala ad Caelum is…falling. All we can do now is try to get to safety."

"But…" Eir trailed off, looking uncertain. "But where do we go? There's—none of the other islands are safe. We don't—"

"The world itself is falling," Meili pointed out quietly. "We might be better off heading to a different world entirely."

Eir fell silent, face pale.

Kvasir wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He squeezed, giving her a tiny smile.

"This many people?" someone else asked. "How are we supposed to—"

"And Scala was always where we brought refuges," someone else added. "What world are we supposed to go to?"

"What are we supposed to do if…?"

The question trailed off, worried words falling into an uneasy silence.

Meili surveyed them, eyes roving over the crowd, then turning out toward the crumbling world. "It's your call," they said finally, turning to Frigga. "But better make it quick."

Frigga blinked; she looked exhausted, and older than Sigurd had ever remembered her seeing. "The stories," she said, quiet, "said that the world was drowned in water, once. It survived to be built into what Scala ad Caelum is—was today. We can…go to the boats, for now. It would be hard to redirect so many people on so short notice. Perhaps things won't get so bad that we'll be forced off-world." She turned, very slowly, to look at the mass of darkness circling overhead. "And if they do—we can get help from the Keybearers. Perhaps we can open a portal big enough to get everyone out."

Meili nodded. They turned, lifting their voice to a shout. "Alright! You heard her—everyone to the boats! No one stays behind. You see someone, tell them where we're going, but don't lag. We want less casualties, not more."

"Master Freya," Frigga said, quiet—so quiet Sigurd wasn't sure anyone was supposed to overhear. "You—"

"It is my job to protect the world," Freya interrupted, firm. "Mine and the other Keepers'. Most of us will stay behind; we will try and reduce what harm we can."

Frigga didn't argue; she just nodded, face grim and worn.

"Odin," Freya said, voice gentle, and he jumped. "You will go to the boats."

"But—but Master Freya—"

"We need at least one Keeper to survive to teach the next generation—and to help protect the people who remain." Freya turned to him, eyes soft. "You are very talented—and I'm sure you'll make us proud."

Odin didn't protest; he looked like he was ready to cry.

Freya smiled a bittersweet sort of smile, then turned to Mimir. "You've grown a lot while I wasn't looking," she murmured.

Mimir lifted their head; their fists clenched by their side, mouth pressed tightly shut, like they were trying not to cry, too.

"I regret that I wasn't there to see it—but I'm happy that you've managed to find people who could help you on your journey." She glanced at Kvasir, waiting and watching at a respectful distance, and at Meili, still ordering people toward the docks. "I hope they can fill the hole where your missing friends would be."

Mimir sucked in a shaky breath. They threw themself at Freya in a tight hug, and Sigurd turned away.

Scala ad Caelum…didn't look like the home he knew, anymore. There were cracks across the street, pieces of earth lifted in odd ways. Some of the buildings had fallen, or were in the process of caving in; others still stood, but pieces were ripping off, slowly, torn toward the humming, swirling storm in the sky. There were still Heartless running through the streets, tugging on toys and clothes that got left behind, their screeches a hellish background track that made this place feel foreign. It ached, something deep and painful that sank into Sigurd's very bones, and he took a breath and tried to look away.

And that's when he saw him.

On the rooftops across from him stood a black-coated man. He had a familiar Keyblade in his hands, tilting it this way and that, like he was getting used to it again. Wasn't that…?

Sigurd didn't have time to say anything—because Luxu had turned toward him, now, and he could feel his piercing stare, even if he couldn't see it.

Time felt like it was slowing down. The wind quieted; the Heartless moved at a crawl. Sigurd felt like he couldn't breathe, one slow, drawn-out breath taking ages.

Luxu tilted his head. He glanced, very slowly, toward the Clock Tower, and then back to Sigurd. He didn't say anything, but Sigurd still got the impression of a question, anyways: Well? Aren't you going to help him?

Sigurd blinked, and suddenly he was free again. He stumbled, nearly gasping, and his eyes fell from the black-coated figure. When his head snapped up again, Luxu was gone.

Help…who?

(You know, something whispered, in a voice that sounded strangely like Luxu's, but might've been his own. And—he thought of Brain, looking strained as he went to put up a barrier to protect a falling world. He thought of a Union Leader, lashing out because he'd discovered the threat that had destroyed his first home was still here, and now he was going to have to deal with it all over again. He thought of a child, falling asleep in a Clock Tower because it reminded him of home, and he thought—

Where is he now?)

"Hey!" That was Meili, Sigurd realized, voice lifted in a shout. "Come on! No stragglers—the Heartless will get you if you stay behind."

"I—I'm coming." Luxu was…it was his imagination, probably. Surely the Union Leaders didn't need him.

…Right?

(The question wouldn't stop nagging him, even as he turned and headed toward the docks.)

-Skuld wondered if this is what it was like, being down in Daybreak Town when it was falling.

The earth seemed to crack and shift, rising and falling and throwing her off balance as she ran. Buildings crumbled, caving in on each other as their foundations weakened; she leapt over a patch that she thought had been destroyed by a spell, and dodged around a hole in the roof of another, feet skidding against shingles. Heartless pooled on the roofs, the walls, the ground, crawling in large masses between the buildings, tugging at the breaks in the cobblestones like they were trying to crack the world open and get to its heart. Skuld shivered as she watched them, but forced herself to look away, eyes on Meili's apartment in the distance, still miraculously standing. I just need to get there before Brain catches up, she thought, pushing herself faster, faster, faster and trying very hard not to look back and search for her friend. I can get the box, and I can take it back to Darkness, and then—then it'll be over. It's not going to be like Daybreak Town. It's not.

(But where is he? some part of her whispered. He should be following—shouldn't he? Why hasn't he done anything?)

Her foot caught on the edge of a shingle. She tripped, palms and knees skidding painfully, her momentum bringing her dangerously close to the edge of the roof. She glanced over the edge, staring dizzyingly at the Heartless far below.

Don't. Keep going.

Skuld shook her head, surging to her feet, braced to shoot over the rooftops and toward Meili's—

-Are you sure you want to do that, kid?

-—and…faltered.

Skuld wobbled, catching herself before she tumbled. Starlight flicked out for balance. One hand went to her head, trying to ignore it as it throbbed. What…was…?

-Let me tell you a story. It's one you should be familiar with.

-"Who's there?" She whipped around, Starlight lifted—but all she could see were the Heartless, steadily creeping over the horizon, and—

And—Brain wasn't here, she realized. She couldn't see him at all.

It was so strange that she faltered. But—that's—

He'd been so determined that they shouldn't use the box. He'd tried to keep her in the Clock Tower. If he didn't want this—why wasn't he—

That prickle of foreboding went down her spine again. Something is…wrong.

-A long time ago, there was a boy who made friends with Darkness. He didn't mean to, really; Darkness just has a way of taking advantage of the most vulnerable. But Darkness brought about a lot of suffering, in their attempts to help the boy—would've destroyed the world, if he'd let it. And because he blamed himself for all the harm Darkness caused, the boy decided to take care of the problem himself. He trapped Darkness inside himself, so that his friends could finally defeat it, if they chose to.

But you already know this story—you were there. You and your friends—including one who's mysteriously gone off to fight Darkness by himself.

-Skuld's breath caught. "That's—"

("When she gave them to me, I thought—but I couldn't do anything, in the end.")

("Be a lot less frustrating for you, I'm sure. The council, too, probably. And maybe I could've actually done something—")

("You, who thought he could fight fate and failed—and so many suffered for it. It aches, doesn't it? It's carved out a hole in your chest, and you can never seem to fill it.")

("It's going to be alright. We aren't going to have to sacrifice the Dandelions to defeat Darkness.")

It felt, very suddenly, like the world was spinning. "No," she whispered. "No, that's—there's no way he'd—"

(He said he was going to stay behind, before. He seemed like he was going to offer himself up to Darkness, once. He's—

Wouldn't he?)

Something flickered at the edge of Skuld's vision. She turned and, finally, she saw him: a black-coated figure standing on the rooftops. He had the Keeper's Keyblade, hands resting on top of it casually. That blue eye seemed to stare at her unblinking.

-Better hurry.

-Before she could think more about what she was doing, Skuld shot toward the Clock Tower.

-Meili hadn't been born when the last of the outer towns fell. They wondered if this was the site those fleeing the carnage saw: their homes crumbling, buildings cracking apart, Heartless swarming over the streets. They could see the Market Place, slowly crumbling into the sea, shadowy figures playing with what trinkets remained. They couldn't see much past it; they weren't sure they wanted to.

…There were probably people still trapped there, too. People they missed. It was always a hazard, with a falling world, but—it felt different, when it was their home.

Meili took a breath, straightened their back, and turned toward the ship. Most of the wielders had made it there now, steadying each other; they could just see the last of them, launching up from the waves. "Alright, everyone, listen up! I want a head count—figure out who's here and who's missing. Get some wielders to go between ships for a more accurate idea. Medics, get to the front of the ship. Anyone who's injured, go see them."

"Has anyone seen the Union Leaders?"

The words made Meili freeze. "What?" they asked, their mouth working mostly on autopilot. They have to be here. They can't—

But they weren't with the Keepers, were they?

"I haven't seen them," the speaker said, expression creased. "Last I knew, they were still fighting."

No.

There were people still speaking—something about them being on a different ship, maybe, or that they'd just gone unnoticed in the chaos—but it faded into white noise as Meili turned, searching the crowd for any sign of a familiar hat or armor or anything.

They didn't see them—but they saw Kvasir, who looked like someone had punched him in the stomach, and Mimir, closing their eyes and gripping their chest, expression contorting in something like panic.

(They can use heart magic. If they can't find them, then—)

"Has anyone seen Skuld and Brain?" Meili shouted.

People exchanged glances. There were a couple of shaken heads, a couple of worried looks. Meili moved, shoving their way through the crowd, like this was some sort of horrible joke and they could find them if they just looked hard enough.

"They didn't stay behind, did they?" someone whispered, and Meili didn't know what they shouted at them when they turned, their ears ringing. They didn't stay. They couldn't have. The world is falling; what are they supposed to do?

(…If anyone were going to stay behind to try and save the world, it'd be them.)

"Hey—hey! Wait—what are you doing?"

Meili snapped around; they were just in time to see Kvasir and Mimir, jumping off the edge of the boat.

"Kvasir! Mimir!" They slammed into the railing, but the two of them were already propelling themselves across the water, magic sending them back toward Scala ad Caelum. "Get back here now!"

"I can get them," someone said—a hooded figure Meili thought they recognized vaguely, but couldn't quite bring themself to focus on because damn it, why did these kids have to be so reckless—

"—Meili. Meili?"

Their name finally reached them through their ringing ears. They turned, and found themselves facing an uncertain crowd, all quiet.

(You're still a council member. There are many, many more people here than just the kids. You're partially responsible for all of them.

…You can't save them. You just have to trust them.)

Meili stared at the falling Scala ad Caelum—at the two, now three, shapes hurrying back towards it shores, at the Darkness still circling overhead, at the spaces where the Union Leaders might still be. "No one else," they said, and it felt like the words came from someone else. "No one else can go back. The town is falling; we can't afford to lose anyone else to it."

"But—the Union Leaders—"

"We have to trust them." The words tasted like ash on their tongue. Hypocrite, something hissed at them, because all they wanted to do was hop on a boat and go after them. "You heard what I said before: get a head count and get your wounds seen to."

(You kids had better come back alright.)

(Please.)

-Darkness could be incredibly intimidating, when they wanted to be. The shadows shifted, and he didn't think he'd known just how tightly they'd wrapped around him until they weren't crushing him anymore. "What kind of deal?"

"You feed off others' darkness. I'm sure this," he gestured with his free hand, even if he couldn't see Scala anymore through the shadows, "seems like it'll sustain you for a while. But it won't last forever. Months, maybe years. But eventually it'll dwindle—and so will you. Unless, of course, you have a vessel."

The eyes pulled back; they disappeared into the shadows, and Brain got the impression that Darkness was pondering.

"You don't have a physical form," Brain continued, forcing the desperation out of his voice. (His hands were shaking.) "Nothing solid to keep you here. Before too long, it'll be just like it was before—you stuck, unable to interact with the world anymore, just watching as life goes on without you."

Something that might've been a hum thrummed through Brain's feet, making him quake with the heaviness of it. "Perhaps. But having a vessel comes with risks. We are so much more vulnerable in such a tiny human body." Something prodded at his back, and Brain stumbled, despite himself. "Surely you have thought of this. You are so clever, after all."

"You don't have to anchor yourself to me permanently," Brain said, shrugging like it was simple. He reached for his magic—careful, careful, don't act too rashly—and ignored the way his heartbeat pounded in his ears. "You can do what you did with Ven—that's not so bad, right?"

The eyes reappeared, high above him. He got the impression of giant jaws, ready to snap. "Perhaps." Those jaws almost seemed to part, dripping shadows across his shoulders. "And you think this is a worthy substitute?"

"Sure. Taking the box is dangerous. My deal doesn't have the same drawbacks—and besides, you still get your 'conflict,' right? Skuld's not going to be happy when she realizes what I've done." He shrugged. "Probably a lot to work through while the others rebuild."

"Others?"

"I—" The words caught. He cleared his throat, and his chest rattled. "I—don't plan on being here."

Very slowly, the shadows pulled back; it felt like they were sticking to his clothes and skin, tearing off piece by piece. The world seemed too hot, too bright, too—much, in the sudden absence of darkness.

The mist coalesced into something that almost looked like a head and torso. It was almost human-like, if he looked at it the right way. "You would take us to other worlds?"

No, he thought venomously, but met Darkness's stare unflinching. "I'm your vessel, right? I have to hold up my end of the deal. Just—don't hurt the people here."

Darkness stared, and stared, and stared, and Brain started to believe that his trick had been seen through—but then Darkness laughed, the sound reverberating through the room. "How fascinating. So unwilling to give up what's important to you—but willing to forgo everything else if it means saving what you love. Even yourself."

Brain lifted his chin, and couldn't bring himself to say anything.

"Very well. We will humor you. We are…curious about what you will become."

Brain tried not to think about it; he focused on the shadows rising, heart pounding as they moved higher, higher, higher. There was so much of them, great thunderclouds that clung to the edges of the building and filled the room with a heavy vapor and he couldn't breathe couldn't breathe couldn't breathe—

Now. Now, now, you need to act now.

The shadows surged downward.

Master's Defender burned in his palm. With a flick, he reached for his magic.

(He could hear the echoes—the promise that they could lock away Darkness, even if it was only temporary, the rattle of chains, the burn of powerful light magic and the screeching of the shadows. In his mind's eye, he could see the ruins of Daybreak Town, and the long chains leading down, down into the shadows, and the monster that had once been trapped there.)

Light streaked from the tip of his Keyblade. It wrapped around him like ribbons, twisting through the shadows and tugging them tighter, tighter, tighter. Too late, Darkness seemed to realize what he was doing; they screeched, the sound so loud it made his ears ache, and he grimaced but forced himself to hold still, Master's Defender quaking in his hands. Just a little longer. Come on. Just a little bit more.

"You truly think you can contain us?" There was anger, rumbling like thunder—but there was something like amusement, too, grim and tinged with the edges of uneasy laughter. "With the same spell that locked us underneath your world, so many years ago?"

Something bitter stung his tongue. His chest felt strangely cold; it felt like there was an empty space there, slowly draining. He braced Master's Defender with both hands, and tried to ignore the fact that he couldn't hear the ghosts anymore.

"And what is your plan, Little Light? Do you think you will put that Keyblade through your chest—take out yourself and us with you?"

The light curled tighter. He was shaking, now; his legs felt like they would give out from underneath him, his skin prickling. Chains rattled, too loud, near his ear.

"We are many—far more than you could possibly contain." A pause, everything very suddenly still. "Very well," Darkness said, and the voice curled around him like a vice. "We will give you what you ask."

…What?

His head snapped up as the shadows moved and his chains went slack. They slammed into his chest with enough force to send him stumbling into the box. Master's Defender clattered to the floor, startled out of his grip. And—

And—and he was choking. He was choking, he was choking, there was something crawling up his throat and filling his lungs he couldn't breathe couldn't breathecouldn'tbreathecouldn'tbreathe

Everything was too hot too cold too

it hurt it hurt it hurt make it stop

his chest was so heavy

empty

where was

he could see

why

couldn't

think?

"Poor Little Light—always believing you are so much more clever than you are."

He coughed and coughed and coughed; he thought he was choking on a scream. He was drowning, he was drowning, and—

He was kneeling. He was on the ground. He didn't remember getting there.

(The tips of his fingers were red.)

"You wanted so desperately to be a hero—to prove that you were worthy of surviving the fall of your world. But we are going to tell you a secret, Little Light." Their voice dropped to a whisper, and Brain wasn't sure if it was hissing through his ears or rattling around inside his skull. "You are still that same boy who was given a task too big for you to handle."

It felt like his chest was splitting apart. Maybe it was; something cracked, and his back arched painfully. His ribs creaked. His throat felt tight, tight, too tight—

His fingers burned, clawed dips digging into the floor. He tried to suck in a breath and found himself hacking. "L—Luxu…"

It felt like something had wrapped around his chest in a vice grip; it tightened, squeezing harder and harder and harder until it felt like he'd break apart.

…Footsteps. Over the ringing in his ears—he could hear footsteps.

Luxu was coming. Luxu was here. Luxu would—he'd kill him, and then this would stop, Darkness would be gone, it'd be alright, it'd be okay—

…Nothing was happening.

Amusement rolled through his chest, foreign and all-consuming, and it took a moment for him to pull away, to beat it back, back, back— "It appears we have an audience."

Nothing was happening. Luxu wasn't moving. Luxu, who had stabbed him before, who he'd asked for help, who he needed most now, of all times—

His head snapped up, and he dragged the words from his throat, croaking, "Luxu, what are you waiting—"

That wasn't Luxu.

Skuld—Skuld was here. Skuld was here, and she was staring at him, eyes wide and face pale, frozen like she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do.

Brain stared back. He tried to find words, but it was hard, beyond the pain-fear-drowning-drowning-drowning.

(You weren't supposed to see this.)

"What is the matter, Little Light? You were looking to make a sacrifice of yourself, were you not?"

Something pushed at his shoulders; it reached up from within him, clawing and the bones and skin and making him convulse, head nearly slamming against the floor.

"Is that not a worthy blade to die on?"

No.

"Brain—" Skuld started, and she wasn't supposed to see this she couldn't be here Darkness was—

"Skuld," he said, and it felt like he was choking, "you need to go."

"Brain—"

"No. You need to—Luxu—"

(He's not coming, some distant part of him realized. He's not going to do it. Why…?)

"And what should we do with this…interloper?"

Brain's claws scraped against the ground; he could just barely hear the way they screeched, everything blotted out by a pressure in his ears.

"Ah. I know."

It felt like strings had wrapped around his throat, his arms, his chest. Brain jerked roughly backward, gasping as he found himself dragged to his feet. Everything felt a little off-kilter; he stumbled, legs moving at all the wrong angles, arms dangling loosely. He thought he could hear Skuld shouting; he couldn't make out the words.

"Wouldn't it be a fitting end, for one of the Union Leaders to die under my new vessel's claws?"

No. No no no no no—

His legs jerked forward, and he threw himself against it with all his might, pulling back, clawing for some semblance of control, teeth gnashing as he tried and tried and tried—

"Brain…?"

His head snapped toward her. She was watching him, Starlight lifted and shaking.

His legs shifted forward. He could feel something in him breaking.

(Everything hurt.)

"Run," he managed, finally—and then his feet were moving across the floor, dragged along against his will, long red claws swiping for his friend.

Chapter Summary: The Heartless descend on Scala ad Caelum. Sigurd, Eir, Kris, and Frigga all fight them, with Frigga still near the edges of the barrier. She's saved by a Keeper, and offers her aid. Meanwhile, Meili works with Freya to address the issue; Freya and the Keepers create a barrier and slowly push it outward, while Meili sends Osmin and Bryn to help the people at the docks.

Up the Clock Tower, Darkness taunts Skuld, Brain, Kvasir, and Mimir. Brain puts up a barrier, then attacks Darkness. The group fights Darkness with little luck. Brain tells Skuld that her, Kvasir, and Mimir should leave to find Luxu and send him back, but doesn't tell her more of his plan; Skuld refuses to leave, but agrees that Kvasir and Mimir could go find him. The two manage to make it out of the barrier, but Darkness escapes, as well, chasing after them.

At the docks, Runa watches as her home slowly starts to become overwhelmed. Osmin and Bryn arrive to help with the Heartless, but it's still deemed too dangerous to stay, so the boats push off. Meanwhile, Frigga meets up with Meili and Freya, who are working to destroy some of the Heartless around the barrier.

Mimir and Kvasir run from Darkness; Skuld and Brain try to stall Darkness while their friends look for Luxu. Mimir realizes they might be able to use heart magic to find Luxu, and while they don't end up finding him, they do end up finding Sigurd, Kris, and Eir, who had escaped from Heartless on top of a building. Sigurd admits he knows Luxu, but doesn't know where to find him—but that using the Keeper's Keyblade might lead them to him. They start to make their way toward the barrier, but Darkness intercepts them and captures Mimir. Sigurd, Eir, Kris, Kvasir, Brain, and Skuld all fight Darkness, but the group slowly drops off, until only Brain and Skuld are left. They end up near the Founder's Fountain, where Darkness taunts them and knocks them both unconscious.

Eir and Kris make it to Freya and explain what they found out about the Keeper's Keyblade. Freya agrees to use it to help them search for Luxu, and leads the Keepers into the city, giving them orders to try and fortify things. Meanwhile, Mimir argues with Darkness from where they're trapped, eventually breaking free.

Luxu finds Brain. Brain asks Luxu to confirm that he'll hold him his agreement in helping him sacrifice himself; Luxu agrees, and Brain takes off to find Skuld.

Skuld, exhausted, makes her way to the top of the Clock Tower. She shines a light to catch Darkness's attention, and, without any other ideas, offers them a deal: she will give them the Dandelions in exchange for leaving Scala ad Caelum alone. Brain arrives, and tries to sabotage the deal. Skuld senses something's wrong, but can't tell what, and flees to try and get the box. When she leaves, Brain remains behind and offers Darkness an alternative deal: himself as a vessel.

Staring out at Scala ad Caelum, Frigga realizes that there's nothing else they can do; the world is falling, and she orders everyone to flee to the boats with the others. Once they're there, however, Meili realizes that Skuld and Brain aren't there. Mimir and Kvasir go back to Scala to look for them, and Sigurd follows them to try and bring them back. Meili, reluctantly, tells no one to go after them.

Skuld, while running to get the box, notices that Brain isn't chasing her, and finds that strange. Luxu (as the narrator) talks to her, and helps her slowly put together Brain's plan: he's going to use himself as a sacrifice. She turns and runs back to the Clock Tower.

Brain is able to trick Darkness into thinking they can use him as a vessel, and then uses Master's Defender to bind them to himself. Darkness, however, is too strong, and starts to take him over. He asks Luxu to kill him, but realizes that the person who arrived at the top of the Clock Tower is Skuld, not Luxu. Darkness takes full control of his body and forces him to attack his friend.

So, uh. This chapter. Required a lot of rewrites. Seriously, I think I rewrote just that first scene with Darkness five to six times, and a lot of others besides that. But it's done! I'm at least…mostly content with the scenes, haha, though we'll see how I feel about them later. At any rate, there have been some things (specifically, the ending) that I've been dying to get to, and I'm so happy I finally get to show people them.

…Also. This chapter was almost 100 pages. So. There's that.