A/N: Several important notes before you continue:

1. If you are a returning reader: Before you read this chapter, go back and reread the last one. I added an important extra scene. If this is your first time reading the fic, you can continue reading as normal.

2. I'm angry at FFN's system. The last time I tried to update, it deleted my draft doc and gave me a bunch of white screen errors. I got so frustrated that I quit the site and moved to AO3. I've been updating the story there since then. But I've switched browsers which helped I think because this time (on Brave) it was easier to deal with the doc manager. I shouldn't have to ditch my favorite browser just to post...but whatever. However! Since I'm still getting readers on here, I'll start cross-posting since Brave seems to work. Expect updates to resume on FFN.

3. I changed the title of the story when I moved to AO3. I'm keeping it as "Save Me" until I update with the next chapter on FFN so that older fans won't get confused. When Chapter 5 goes live, the title will change to "Villain in Your Story" to be on par with its counterpart.

4. Thank you to everyone that's enjoying the story so far. Please be excited for more content.


Chapter 4

Riku's stomach was growling, but even that wasn't strong enough to rip him from his prayers. He was too desperate to get back everything he had lost. Food didn't matter. Like a zen monk, he stayed focused on his vision of Aerith. Her smile, her confident stride, her masterful command of the elements. She was there with him, plopped on an opposite plank lazily floating through the abyss. They had just laughed at a silly joke she made about the Ferryman "needing a hand" while the bundle of bones put himself back together again.

"Hey…"

Riku's face soured. He wouldn't let the voice back in. He refused. A letter in a bottle just came bobbing across the sea and Aerith plucked it out. They asked her what it said and she just giggled.

"Riku…"

The Ferryman told a story of pirates sending letters in bottles, how they miraculously would always find their way as if by magic. They decided to try it themselves.

"Wake up…"

For a price, the Ferryman offered them some spare velum and a quill. Aerith was quick to remind him that if not for her, he'd be at the bottom of a bottomless seabed, and she got a discount. They decided to write an SOS and pray it'd reach their friends on the outside.

"Riku!"

"Shut up!" Riku angrily opened his eyes, ready to punch himself in the thigh again. He raised his fist then froze.

"What are you doing…?"

"I…" Riku slowly lowered his arm. "Are you real?"

"Of course I am," Aerith said with a warm smile.

"How did you…?" Riku quickly studied his surroundings. Aerith was floating in front of him on a dinghy made of ice. A small, bright fireball hung overhead to illuminate everything without melting it.

"I've been looking for you for hours," she said, making space for him to get in. "I'm sorry about that storm. I got a little carried away."

Riku wanted to say something, but his stomach growled.

"We really need to get out of here."

"How?" Riku weakly mumbled as he tried to get into the dinghy. After a wobbly start, he managed to crawl onto the ice, which just made him shiver. He wondered how Aerith was so unfazed by the cold while wearing such a thin dress.

"With our trusty navigator, of course!" Aerith reached past Riku and pulled up a skull.

"How ya doin'?" chattered the Ferryman with a bony grin.

"You can't be serious…"

"He still knows the way," Aerith assured him. "Now let's set sail, crew!" She summoned a light breeze that rocked the water into a controlled rolling wave, propelling them forward.

"Remind me where we're going…?"

"The last stop," the Ferryman repeated. "Ten degrees starboard."

Aerith corrected the wind, adjusting the dinghy's course.

Riku was too weak and tired to argue. He just slumped over and and tried to sleep, but his body started prickling with frostbite. His teeth started chattering worse than the Ferryman's.

"We're almost there," Aerith said softly, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder. Green tendrils of light sprawled out from her palm and crawled down Riku's body, blanketing him in a comforting warmth that healed all of his injuries. He tried to say thanks, but couldn't resist the overwhelming pull of sleep. Aerith kept her hand on Riku for the rest of the trip, making sure he was comfortable. She gazed out into the fog, letting her mind wander as she quietly prayed that everything would be okay.


"When I felt your breath on me, I was who I wanted to be."

It was snowing in Radiant Garden. A fitting setting for the holidays. Aerith busied herself decorating the church with all of her little helpers. Yuffie ran around tossing tinsel everywhere while Kairi daintily hung orbs on the pine tree that they had all planted out front. Some of the other kids built snowmen or tended to the poinsettias that Aerith helped them to grow. At the end of the week, everything was floral and festive.

The kids couldn't wait for Santa Claus to visit, but Aerith was more excited for something else. At night when everyone had gone home, she hid away in the church's storage room where she had set up a crafting table. After practicing so hard to make Squall his food pack, she decided to dabble in something far more adventurous. Weeks of toiling, pricked fingers, and endless revisions finally gave way to perfection. After wrapping it up in decorative paper, Aerith giddily stored it somewhere safe in preparation for the big day.

The weekend before Christmas, Squall trudged through the snow on his way to the mountains. His scarf flapped around in the wind and kept slapping him in the face. He growled slightly as he made his usual stop by the church, fidgeting with the knot to try and better tuck away the ends. While wrestling with that, he failed to notice that Aerith wasn't in her usual spot. When the wait grew so long that the silence snagged his attention, he began to worry. Squall contemplated opening the gate and going inside, but then figured maybe the snow was too intense for Aerith. Or maybe she had slipped on some ice. Should he double back and go look for her near the square? Or did she get snowed in? Maybe the church's doors were frozen shut? Did she get bored making all these lunches and writing all these letters? Maybe it was getting to be too much effort.

"Good morning!"

Squall snapped his head around to see Aerith trekking down the road wearing snowshoes. She was bundled up in a thick, winter coat carrying his provisions pack in one hand while holding a second pack slung over her shoulder. His eyes never left the second pack, even when she was trying to get his attention. It was bulging with lots of pockets, a bed roll, a canteen strapped on one end and a thermos on the other.

"Oh, this?" she said, following his eye line. "It's good for camping, right?"

"Yeah," he said, confused. He stared, not certain what to make of things.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm coming with you!"

What?

Aerith giggled and handed over his provisions. "C'mon! Time's a'wasting!"

"Wait, you can't seriously…" Squall's forehead creased into a deep frown. He wasn't sure what to say or do.

"It'll be fun, won't it? I want to experience what you do. Just this once."

Is she serious? Has she ever climbed a mountain before? She could fall or worse. There's ice everywhere. There's low visibility. There're moody mountain goats. What if one headbutts her?

"I'm stronger than I look. I could join the Royal Guard if I wanted to!"

Squall averted his gaze, his thoughts spinning round and round until she snapped him free by slipping her hand into his.

"Please?"

He looked up into her pleading, innocent eyes and his countenance softened. With a sigh, he muttered a quick, "Fine," before slinging the food pack around his shoulder.

"Thank you," she said, squeezing his hand. "This'll be fun, I promise."

Squall didn't know what to say to that. He just squeezed back and didn't let go.

The hike was extra slow, with Aerith leaning into Squall every step of the way. At first, he was frustrated, even angry, that he couldn't enjoy the freedom of the snowfall like he always did every year. He liked to stretch his arms out wide, catching the wind and flurries as he pushed against them like a bird in flight. Now it felt like his wings had been clipped. He struggled to not reflexively shove her off his arm, and bit his tongue before he could growl. His unruly scarf was just making things worse. The old one disintegrated after so many years of use and this one was eating his last nerve raw.

"Where'd you get that scarf?" Aerith asked, cutting through the chaos in his head.

"Wedge's shop," Squall grumbled, wrestling with the garment some more. He finally gave up and just ripped it off, preferring to rough out the cold on his neck than waste another second agitated.

"Oh that's no good. Everyone knows Wedge uses just one rack for every measurement."

"I didn't."

Aerith just laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"It's a surprise."

Squall frowned.

"Trust me," she said, nuzzling into his shoulder.

He wanted to shrug her off, but found that he quite liked the weight and warmth there. Everything about her touching him was electrifying. He could feel her heart beating against his arm as she hugged it tightly through the storm. It reminded him that she was alive—that this living person chose to come out into the snowfields to be with him despite never having left the confines of the city her entire life. Maybe it wasn't so bad going a little slower.

It was hours before they reached the foot of the mountain. Prior to that, they stopped in the field several times so Aerith could take a break. She'd always pull out her large thermos and two mugs, filling them each with hot chocolate. The first break annoyed Squall until he tasted the cocoa. He guzzled it down, finding it irresistible. Just the right balance of bitter and sweet, with a some sort of spicy aftertaste.

"The secret is a hint of fresh cloves," she said. "Just a few finely ground by pestle and mortar."

Squall didn't think he liked cloves. He'd had them in meat once and spat out the first bite. But mixed with chocolate was a new sensation entirely.

"Where'd you learn how to cook?" he found himself asking just as they started going up the pass.

"Self-taught."

"Why?"

Aerith thought for a moment. "My first foray into plants was a homegrown herb garden. I just wanted some dishes to use them on."

"Parents don't cook?"

"They're never home. What about yours?"

Squall hesitated at first, and Aerith could feel the muscles in his arm seize. The silence was different from the others. She sensed the pain in it and immediately realized that she shouldn't have asked. But before she could apologize, he surprised her by answering. "…I don't have any."

Aerith didn't say anything at first. She just hugged him tighter, but he still felt tense. "My mother passed away when I was four, so I understand at least a little bit."

"But I thought…?" Squall was confused. Didn't her mother work at the castle?

"Step-mom," Aerith replied. "Elmyra is really nice and I do love her… But it doesn't mean I miss my mom any less, you know?"

"Not really. I never knew mine to miss her. All I have of hers is this pendant." With his free hand, Squall tugged out a necklace. The chain was always visible, but everyone could only fathom as to what it held. Aerith got a rare glimpse at a large, silver cross crowned with the roaring head of a lion. "Sleeping Lion Heart—that's engraved on the back. I never understood what it meant."

"Family motto?"

"Maybe." Squall ritualistically rubbed his gloved thumb over the cross's ridged surface before tucking it back under his shirt.

"You should wear it out more," Aerith hummed. "It looks really nice on you." He didn't reply, but Aerith could see a twinge of pink flush his cheeks. "So did you always live in the barracks at the Guard Academy?" she asked for a change in topic.

"My guardian was a captain there. I've never really known anything outside of it."

"What's it like there?"

The climb was getting steeper, and the air grew colder and thinner. Squall wasn't used to hiking and talking. He wasn't really sure what to prioritize, and found himself stumbling into obstructions like stray branches or jagged rocks. "Suffocating," he eventually grumbled after recovering from stubbing his toe on a half-buried stump.

"Why don't you move out?" Aerith asked, helping to keep him steady.

"Nowhere to go."

"Maybe get a place in the lower town? It's nice, especially with those fountains. Kind of like waterfalls, right? Plus I live close by, so maybe we could be neighbors."

Squall didn't say anything. He just trudged along for a bit, his intense eyes scouting for obstacles. At some point his ears perked at the conspicuous silence. That's when he noticed her labored breathing. "Let's take a break," he said, stopping to check Aerith. Her face was pale.

"I'm…fine," she said, half-sputtering.

"It's called acclimatization," he said, dusting the snow from a couple of rocks and sitting on one. "Your body needs time to adjust to the high altitude."

"Any excuse…for more cocoa," Aerith chuckled, taking the seat next to him. It felt like the weight of the world was on her body as she plopped down. She felt dizzy and strangely giddy. When she tried reaching for her thermos, she found that her arms weighed like lead. So she took Squall's advice and just rested for awhile.

The sun was already dipping towards the horizon, casting long shadows over the snowscape below. The frozen lake sparkled in the golden light of twilight. Surrounding it was a field of pines where families of deer staked between the trunks. It would've made for a nice charcoal sketch, Squall thought. He then wondered if they would make it to one of his camping spots. There was a cave nearby, but it was still a fair deal up the trail. His mind started wandering again, obsessing over whether it was the right idea to let Aerith come. What if she got altitude sickness? Or froze to death? Or ran out of cocoa? It was the only thing really keeping her warm.

"How cute…"

Squall snapped away from his thoughts. Across from him, Aerith had bounded off her boulder and roamed over to where some mountain goats were hoofing to climb the steep mountainside. His eyes went wide. "Don't!"

"Hi, Mr. Goat," Aerith said, reaching out her hand to pet it. The goat bleated and bucked at the sudden intrusion. It swerved around with its horns aimed down, prepping its legs to charge. Then, like a bullet, it shot forward hellbent on butting Aerith clean off the cliff. It all happened so fast, Aerith couldn't even blink. Just as she braced for contact, Squall tossed himself onto the goat and yanked it by the horns, steering it away. They struggled against each other, both grunting and growling like beasts. The goat was large and meaty, fighting back with the force of a train. It violently tried to kick off its attacker while Squall dug his feet deeper into the snow and resisted. Then, with a feral roar, Squall used the beefy goat's own momentum to swing it around in circles, launching it far off the path where it slid down the slope. After a brief bout of disorientation, the goat flipped back onto its feet and scampered away.

It took a few minutes for Squall to regain his composure, after which he dusted himself off and hurried to check on Aerith. "They're very territorial," he said, walking up to her. "Best stay away."

"I'm sorry," she apologized sincerely. "I don't even know what I was thinking. Thank you for jumping in like that."

Squall just frowned. He knew mountain goats would be a problem. He shouldn't have let her come. It was too dangerous for someone as fragile as a petal.

With his thoughts carrying him away again, he didn't notice the goats regrouping behind him. They wanted revenge. A cacophony of enraged bleating echoed across the sky, and Squall turned just in time to see a small herd stampeding towards him. He barely had time to register what was happening before a powerful wind suddenly blew past him and knocked the herd back with a sonic boom. Snow kicked up everywhere like a blizzard cyclone. The goats skidded through the snow, but the wind wasn't finished. It lifted teach one into a mini tornado and carried them far away until they disappeared into the valley below.

"Looks like they'll just have to take the long way now," Aerith mused, admiring her handiwork.

Squall was speechless. He stared at Aerith with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape. Dozens of thoughts raced through his head, but one eventually came tumbling out. "You're a sorceress?"

Aerith wholeheartedly laughed. "No, nothing like that. I just dabble a little here and there."

"You call that dabbling?"

"Well, Merlin from the tower—you know him, right?—tutors me every week. He says I'm quite talented."

That's an understatement.

"Lucky for you, huh? Damsel-in-distress really isn't your type."

My type?

"Having to run after someone who's always getting hurt or kidnapped. It's like taking care of a big baby, only without the joy of watching them grow up." With a cunning smile, Aerith leaned in close to look into Squall's stunned face, their noses almost touching. "You need someone who will always watch your back. So you can relax. And feel safe."

Safe?

This was all so much to process. Squall grabbed at his head. Now he was the dizzy one. He stumbled back to the rock and collapsed on it. "With that kind of ability, you could make Mage General," he said eventually. "Why hide it?"

"I'm not a soldier," Aerith said, scooting down next to him. "I'm a flower girl, remember? And also…" She abruptly placed her hand on Squall's cheek where a cloven hoof had nicked him. He didn't even notice that he was bleeding. Green light pulsed out from her palm and green tendrils of light passed over his wound, healing it instantly. "I'm a healer above all else. These powers are being used for good, not war."

There's a difference?

The warmth in his cheek flowed down into the rest of his body, flooding into his limbs, fingers, and toes. It swirled around his heart, where it lingered and burgeoned. He felt refreshed, but also stronger. Underneath that, though, was something else. A strange emotion. He didn't understand it. It was elation interwoven with dread. It fluttered through his stomach and fogged up his head.

Aerith looped her arm under his and leaned her head on his shoulder. Her hand found his and she intertwined their fingers. "Do you like being a soldier?" she asked after a while.

Squall was so caught up wrestling with his internal strife that he could barely decide whether to answer. But it would've been rude not to. "It's all I know."

"But if you could do anything, become anyone—what would it be?"

Everything inside of Squall was churning. His heart was racing, pounding hard against his ribs—harder than it did fighting that goat. The throbbing in his ears drowned out just about everything. He could barely hear Aerith, never mind hear himself think. By the time he could parse out just what she had asked him, he glanced down at her to see that her eyes were closed. Aerith had dozed off, breathing slowly, deeply, and quietly against his neck. He didn't know what else to do, so he just rested his head on hers and tried not to think anymore.

Night soon blanketed the valley. The sun's last few rays drifted further under the horizon, and Squall gently nudged Aerith awake. They needed to find the cave before they froze to death. Aerith summoned a bright, magical light to guide their path while also warming them. Unconventional as mountain treks went, but Squall didn't mind the variances anymore. They walked hand-in-hand until they reached his campsite, where they unpacked all of their gear and started a fire. While Aerith tended to preparing dinner over the flames, Squall unfurled the bedrolls and hammered in some tent-like curtains to both give privacy and shield from the wind.

That night in the cave, Squall ate the biggest, tastiest feast of his life. Aerith pulled out all the stops, packing grilled chicken with mushroom sauce, roasted pepper and potato dumplings, and a stew of her finest sautéed vegetables. For dessert, she brought a gingerbread and jam spice cake, honeyed rolled buns, and a mint-chocolate mousse.

"Pretty good, huh?" Aerith chuckled as she watched Squall wolf it all down. She tried hard not to giggle as he gobbled down portion after portion without so much as breathing. It was the biggest complement he could've given her.

When he finally settled down and leaned back against the wall to digest, Squall started reflecting on the day's events. But that made his stomach churn. So instead, he focused on the food, poking his tongue around to get at all the bursts of flavor tucked between his teeth. "Thank you for the meal," he eventually said after realizing his rudeness.

"Perfect for Christmas, right?"

Is that what a Christmas feast is supposed to be?

"And speaking of Christmas…" Aerith fished around the bottom of her travel pack and yanked out her handmade wrapped gift. "I hope you don't mind that it's a few days early."

Squall was stunned. He never really celebrated Christmas. It was just another day to him—nothing terribly special about it. The barracks choir group would sing some carols and the canteen offered seasonal figgy pudding, but that was about it. Was he supposed to give her something too? How did this work? What if he didn't like it? Or want it? Should he even accept it? What had he done to deserve it?

Before he could reach an internal consensus, Aerith slid closer to him and placed the gift in his lap. He looked at her then at it, and slowly took his hand to the taped fold. Gingerly, he tugged at it until the tape peeled off without damaging the paper and he carefully unfolded the rest. With the paper gone, he wasn't really sure what he had. It was some kind of white, fluffy fur.

"It's for your jacket," she explained, picking it up to unfurl. "I'll sew this into your collar so that you'll always be warm, even without an annoyingly short scarf." Aerith motioned for him to hand over his jacket.

Hesitant, but also curious, he took it off and gave it to her. If nothing else, Aerith had a proven track record with crafts. Besides, he wanted to burn Wedge's scarf.

Aerith quickly got to work. Pulling out her sewing kit, she sat by the fire and threaded the new padded collar with masterful stitch-work. "There! Try it on!" She was finished a lot faster than Squall had expected. He took back the jacket along with a small mirror that she handed to him.

The new addition already looked eye-catching. Squall quickly slipped it on and immediately felt a comfortable difference. His head and neck felt extra warm without having to fuss around with an annoying noose-like knot.

This is so cool. I look like a lion.

"Well…?" Aerith asked expectantly, her hands clasped together. "What do you think…?

"It's functional, has utility, and is stylish," he said thoughtfully, eyeing himself in the mirror. "This is a great gift. Thank you."

Overwhelmed with joy, Aerith lunged into him with a hug. Squall was taken aback. Why was she so happy? He didn't get her anything. Shouldn't she be sad? Or mad? He was feeling kind of awful about it. She was always giving him so much, and he's never reciprocated. Christmas made no sense.

"I'm sorry I don't have a present for you," he said, not sure whether to put his arm around her. It was elevated just at her back, hovering awkwardly between exuberance and guilt.

"I'm just happy you're here," she said, nuzzling into him. "That's all I need."

Christmas is weird.

Just as his hand was figuring out a place to land, Aerith suddenly pulled away. She cleared her throat and then announced it was time to clean the dishes. Squall silently helped her while internally battling with more tumultuous thoughts. He had to find a way rebalance the scales. But did that mean their entire relationship was built on tit-for-tat transactions? If he never got her a gift, did that make him a mooch? Was there a perfect ratio somewhere?

When all the dishes were cleaned, dried, and put away, Aerith kneeled down next to the crackling flames with her hands clasped together in prayer.

Squall rested on a bedroll across the way, both watching her and lost in his own thoughts. Everything just kept spinning, burning, and freezing. So much vertigo. His mind was like a kicked hornets' nest. The dread was looming, and his heart started pounding again. Then, out of nowhere, a sudden idea bubbled up to smash the rest. Reaching for his pack, he pulled out his notebook and charcoal. While Aerith prayed, he sketched.

"Sorry about that," she said after a long while. "It's something I do every night." But Squall was too entranced by his work to hear her. Without him even noticing, she sat down behind him and studied him—his hurried strokes, the way he scrunched his eyebrows whenever he was adding shading, how his shiny, blue eyes darted rapidly around the page. Only when it looked like he was about finished did she venture to say anything. "Wow, this is all from memory?" Aerith exuberantly leaned in to inspect all of the drawing's intricate details.

"Yeah," Squall replied, adding some finishing touches. The image was of Aerith praying in her church, surrounded by tall archways, stained glass windows, and a ray of light pouring down over her field of flowers. She looked beautiful and radiant, in a flowing dress that lapped around her as if swirling with a divine wind.

"You're really talented!"

"Thanks." Squall put down the charcoal then flexed the page. With one firm tug, he yanked it out clean of the book's binding. "Merry Christmas," he said softly, holding the drawing up to her.

Aerith wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye, confusing Squall. Was she sad? He was about to ask, when she suddenly hugged him. This time, he didn't hesitate to hug her back.

"Thank you," she whispered in his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

Squall leaned back to lie down, and Aerith followed him. They held each other for a while, each comforted by the melodic beat of the other's heart. Aerith nestled her head into Squall's shirt. She carried the fragrant aroma of her garden, and he loved that about her. Aerith, to him, was the raw force of the earth tamed by grace and benevolence. Everything about her was mesmerizing.

"What are you thinking about?" Aerith murmured.

"You."

Their eyes met. They were caught up in a trance, each searching the other for an answer they already knew. Slowly, they leaned forward until their lips touched.


The ice dinghy continued drifting along the foggy, dark sea until the mist slowly peeled back. The water started taking on a greenish hue, almost as if someone had poured a vat of caustic fluids into it upstream. What was once an endless void was soon framed by large, blue-black cliffs on either side. The ocean had turned into a river.

Suddenly, the boat started rocking. At first, Riku stubbornly clung to sleep and ignored it. But then a hand grabbed him, and he lurched awake only to find five more veiny, wrinkled hands grabbing at him. They were transparent and hauntingly cold to the touch. "What's going on?" he half shouted. The boat was rolling more violently as more and more arms shot up out of the river and grabbed hold of anything within reach.

"Don't worry," Aerith said, summoning dozens of small lighting bolts to zap the hands away. "It's nothing we can't handle."

As the hands recoiled back into the water, Riku quickly looked overboard. There, in the river, were hundreds of floating bodies. They were moaning, wailing, and trying their best to reach back up. "What are they?" Riku was unnerved. He clutched at his sword hilt.

"The dead," replied the Ferryman.

"Dead?" Riku's eyes widened. "Wait, you don't mean we're…?"

"The last stop."

The dinghy suddenly came up to a dilapidated dock. Half the rotten wood slumped into the water where ghostly hands tried in vain to climb up the slippery, mossy beams. When the boat pulled up, Aerith steadied it with her magic so that she and Riku could disembark.

"Would you look at that!" said the Ferryman, his hollow eye cavities gazing down at the shoreline. A pile of bones had washed up, and one of the hands was waving to him. "I do believe that's me."

Aerith walked him over to the bones and picked up one of the arms. "Shall I give you a hand?" she joked.

"No need." Within seconds, the bones all snapped together and the skeletal frame of the Ferryman had been refreshed. He crowned himself with his skull and then pulled the hood over his head. "Thanks for riding River Styx Ferries. We hope you had a pleasant trip."

"It was adventurous, thank you!" Aerith said, waving goodbye as the Ferryman wandered off to find a new skiff.

"We're in the Underworld," Riku said, slowly overcoming his shock.

"Yeah."

"I don't understand. How did we cross out of the Realm of Darkness?"

"Maybe they're connected? Life and Death, Light and Dark."

"That…sounds reasonable." Riku reflected on that for a moment. Maybe Kingdom Hearts had multiple doors. "So if not to find Mr. Broody, what are we doing here?"

"Well…" Aerith let her words hang while she glanced around. Odd, ghoulish buildings lined the inner cavern of the Underworld like crooked teeth. Aside from the moaning souls in the Styx, there didn't seem to be anyone else around. But that didn't discourage her. Aerith ventured further in, climbing up a steep, narrow staircase that spiraled up as far as the eye could see.

Riku tagged along, suppressing the hunger rumbling through his stomach. Each step proved more agonizing than the last, but he tried not to focus on the burning in his calves. Instead he thought about Aerith. She must have been just as tired as he was, if not more so after using so much magic. Where was all that strength coming from? At first he thought her little more than a mousey nun, but she showed herself to be a powerful force of nature, if not wrathful. Almost godlike. Was this the true power of the Light? Or was she also drawing on the Darkness? Maybe she had found a balance. There was still so much Riku didn't understand.

"Why don't we take a break?" Aerith said close to fifteen minutes into the climb. The end was nowhere in sight, but neither was the start. It had long disappeared below. Aerith carefully sat down, with Riku settling himself just two steps down.

"This is impossible," Riku groaned. His thighs were on fire and he felt close to fainting.

"Nothing's impossible. We just need to change our perspective a little." Aerith glanced around. Aside from the infinite rockscape, there were no notable features or landmarks. That in of itself seemed strange. With a gentle wave of her hand, she willed forth a cloud of frost. It danced like dusr through the airflow, blowing into the expanse where it seemed like it would disappear into the distance. As it whirled away, it suddenly brushed against a solid surface just off to the side of the staircase. Now coated in faint dusting of ice, the faint outline of a walkway materialized.

"That was incredible," Riku said in awe.

"See? Just have to think outside the box." Aerith got up and dusted herself off, then hopped onto the new pathway. Riku followed suit.

The two walked for a bit until they came to a dead end rockface. Undeterred, Aerith touched her hand against the mountainside. It went straight through the facade. They both stepped through, and on the other side, was another set of stairs.

"All that and we're back to the beginning?" Riku growled, rage bubbling inside him.

"Not quite. Look up." Aerith pointed to where the new path led to the foot of a giant building in the sky.

Not sure how much longer he could keep going, Riku dragged his feet to the first step. But he tripped and fell to his knees. "This is pointless!" he yelled, punching into the barren dirt.

"It'll be okay." Aerith came up behind him, placing a healing hand on his shoulder.

Riku instantly felt the tension melt off his back. "How are you doing all this? Don't you need to eat? To sleep?"

"When you've fought against the Heartless as long as I have, you learn to ration, to pace yourself, to be patient, to be forgiving, and above all, to always have faith."

That answer irritated Riku. "How does any of that help you pull energy from out of nowhere? I'd given myself fully to the Darkness just to get a small taste of what you possess. Is your heart just stronger? Or are you some kind of witch like Maleficent?"

"I'm just a humble flower girl and healer." That was the most revolting answer she could've given him. She could see it in his fierce, seething eyes. "There's more to life than just swinging a sword around, you know? You have to look inside, really deep, and ask yourself what it is you truly desire. Is it power? Control? Destruction? If that's really what you want, you'll bring it to yourself, but at a cost. So what I focus on instead is asking myself what I'm willing to lose. It's not that I'm stronger or weaker than anyone else. I've just learned how to make sacrifices."

Slapped with the melancholy in her words, Riku's countenance softened. His mouth started to dry as the realization crept in. "What have you sacrificed?"

Aerith just smiled. "A little of this, a little of that. It doesn't really matter. Now come on, let's go." Before Riku could get another word in, she started the climb.

Feeling warmer and stronger, Riku trailed after her, wondering the entire time just how much longer she could really keep going.

When they finally reached the top, they were greeted by a set of gigantic double doors that resembled a demon's mouth. Blue fire crackled in the surrounding braziers. It instantly drew Riku's attention. As he gazed into the embers, a memory dislodged from deep within his shameful past. "I shouldn't be here," he said, abruptly turning to go back downstairs.

"Hey! Wait!" Confused, Aerith went to follow.

But just then the ground rumbled, shaking and stunning them both. The doors slowly growled open and a single figure emerged. Riku ducked his head, trying to hide himself to no avail. Though his panic dissolved when he realized it wasn't Hades.