With the acidic rain pouring outside, retreating was not an option. Blizzard and Yen-Sid stood ready, Keyblades in hand, facing the encroaching darkness. Blizzard, his Frostbite gripped tight in his right hand, began to twirl it, the icy blue energy radiating outwards. Yen-Sid summoned gusts of wind that swept through the arena, knocking back the smaller Heartless, creating openings for Blizzard to exploit.
Heartless of varying sizes and forms surged from the shadows, drawn to the light, to the presence of the Keyblades. Blizzard, remembering Yen-Sid's instructions, focused on the larger Heartless, channeling his ice magic as each strike infused with a chilling power.
He swung Frostbite in wide arcs, the blade slicing through the air, leaving trails of icy mist in its wake. The larger Heartless, caught off guard by his sudden ferocity, stumbled, their movements faltering as they were bisected, their forms dissolving into wisps of black smoke.
Yen-Sid, meanwhile, moved through the fray with a focused intensity. His Keyblades, Wisdom and Enlightenment, became extensions of his will, deflecting blows, parrying attacks. Each movement was precise, a calculated response to the relentless Heartless assault.
He rotated his right Keyblade, Enlightenment, in a swift arc, deflecting a Soldier's wild swing, then thrust Wisdom forward, piercing another Shadow's shadowy form. With a spin, he created a vortex of wind with his left Keyblade, sending a cluster of smaller Heartless flying, clearing a path for Blizzard.
Blizzard pressed his attack, Frostbite a blur of icy energy as he carved a path through the remaining Heartless. The Keyblade sang through the air, its icy touch leaving trails of frozen mist, a harbinger of death for the creatures of darkness.
The battle raged, a chaotic ballet of light and shadow, the ring of clashing Keyblades a constant counterpoint to the guttural roars of the Heartless. Some of the Heartless adapted, their movements growing faster, their attacks more relentless, their tactics shifting from mindless aggression to something... more cunning. Blizzard's eyes narrowed as he focused on two Large Body lumbering towards him. They moved with a deceptive speed, their massive forms belying their surprising agility.
He dodged a blow from one, its fist slamming into the ground where he'd been a moment before, the impact sending tremors through the Colosseum floor. He struck, Frostbite piercing the creature's shadowy flesh, but the wound was shallow, its thick hide resistant to his attack.
He tried again, channeling more magic into Frostbite, the blade glowing brighter, its icy aura intensifying. He thrust the Keyblade deep into the Heartless's chest, but the creature simply roared, unfazed, its glowing yellow eyes fixed on him with an unnerving intensity. It lunged, its massive arms reaching out, trying to crush him in its embrace.
Blizzard! Behind you! Yen-Sid's voice cut through the din of battle.
Blizzard turned, his heart pounding, to see another Large Body bearing down on him, its massive form a wall of shadow.
Blizzard! Aim for their backs! They're vulnerable there! Yen-Sid yelled, his voice laced with urgency.
He barely had time to register Yen-Sid's words before the two Large Bodies converged. He felt the air leave his lungs as their massive forms closed in, trapping him between them, their combined weight threatening to crush him. Panic surged, and with a desperate surge of adrenaline, he twisted, ducking beneath one of the Large Bodies and rolling across the scorched earth, narrowly avoiding being flattened.
Gasping for breath, he scrambled to his feet, his gaze scanning the chaotic scene. He saw Yen-Sid battling a small horde of Shadows, his Keyblades flashing, each movement precise, efficient, a dance of death.
He charged, summoning Frostbite's power. He leaped onto the back of one of the Large Bodies, his Keyblade plunging deep into its exposed flesh. The icy energy flowed outwards, freezing the creature from the inside. It roared, its movements slowing, its shadowy form becoming brittle, before shattering into a million pieces.
He heard a sickening thud from above. He turned, his eyes widening as he saw a third Large Body, dropping from the Colosseum's ceiling.
Blizzard raised his titanium arm instinctively, shielding his face from the Heartless' belly that was about to cruch his entire body at the last moment , bracing for the impact. A surge of energy pulsed through his arm at the moment of impact, the Sapphire Crystal embedded within it glowing with an intense blue light as the belly was met with an impenetrable force.
The Large Body staggered back before collapsing its back on the floor, its glowing eyes wide with confusion, its momentum halted, as if it had struck an invisible wall. Blizzard, equally surprised, lowered his arm, staring at the spot where the impact had occurred.
Yen-Sid, witnessing the scene, let out a whoop of excitement.
[Young] Yen-Sid: Royal Guard! You've done it again!
He chuckled, then, with a swift movement, he drew his second Keyblade, Enlightenment, and hurled it towards the stunned Heartless. The Keyblade spun through the air, a lance of pure light, before piercing the Large Body's skull. The creature roared, a sound of pain and confusion, then exploded, its shadowy form dissolving into nothingness.
Blizzard stared at the spot where the Large Body had vanished before pusing the thought aside. This was not the time for introspection.
He turned, facing the last remaining Large Body, and repeated the process, a grim satisfaction replacing his earlier fear. He stood there, chest heaving, Frostbite's icy touch clinging to his skin, his gaze fixed on the spot where the Heartless had vanished, when something... shifted.
He looked around, his eyes widening in surprise. The weaker Heartless, the Shadows , Thier bodies stood motionless on the floor.
And their forms... they weren't dissolving into the usual wisps of smoke. They remained solid, their shadowy flesh taking on a disturbing, almost tangible quality, with the ghostly outlines of bones and veins vaguely visible beneath.
Blizzard: What...? (he murmured, confusion and unease twisting in his gut) What does this mean, Yen-Sid? Why aren't they disappearing?
Yen-Sid approached, dusting off his robes with a expression of unsettling fascination.
Blizzard: It's as if... they're all...
[Young] Yen-Sid: Corpses! (his voice ringing with a strange excitement) They don't dissipate here. Not in this... corrupted realm. They remain. Physical. Tangible. A harvest, ready for the reaping. A bounty of... dark delights! (he licked his lips)
Blizzard felt a profound unease. Yen-Sid's words, his demeanor... it was all wrong. There was a darkness lurking beneath the sorcerer's eccentric facade, something cold and calculating.
Blizzard: But... why? Why do they remain? It's not... natural. Not like the other worlds.
Yen-Sid grinned, his eyes twinkling, his gaze distant, as though already tasting a secret delight.
[Young] Yen-Sid: You ask a most... pertinent question. One that I have been pondering for... quite some time. You see, the Keyblade Graveyard... it is not simply a graveyard. It is a reservoir! A nexus of concentrated darkness! The acidic rain, the treacherous terrain, those charming Heartless... they are all manifestations of this... potent energy! The Heartless, they're tethered to it, bound to this place, unable to fully dissipate. (he paused, his gaze turning inward) Or perhaps they are unwilling. Who can say? The mind of a Heartless... it is a mysterious, unpredictable thing.
He looked at Blizzard, a sly grin spreading across his face.
[Young] Yen-Sid: But enough of these... academic musings! (he exclaimed while clapping his hands together) I believe... it is time for a... culinary demonstration! A revelation, if you will, that might just... change your perspective on... sustenance.
Blizzard's brow furrowed, but before he could voice the question that formed on his lips, Yen-Sid continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
Yen-Sid: In this world, in this desolate wasteland... sustenance... it takes on a... different form. The normal laws of nature... they don't apply here. The Heartless are comprised of darkness. Yes. But they are also physical. Tangible. And... (he licked his lips again, a strange glint in his eyes) ...surprisingly nutritious. Their bodies can sustain us. Nourish us. Keep us alive.
Blizzard stared at him, his jaw slack. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Consume... Heartless? The very idea made his stomach churn. It felt... wrong. Unnatural. A violation of everything he believed in as a Keyblade wielder. He glanced at Chirithy, who was watching them with an expression of pure horror.
Blizzard: You're... you're suggesting we... eat them?
Yen-Sid let out a hearty laugh, the sound at odds with the chilling intensity in his eyes.
[Young] Yen-Sid: Oh, I assure you! (his tone shifted to a disturbingly cheerful enthusiasm) They're quite... palatable. I've been practicing, honing my culinary skills, during my... extended stay... in this... delightful wasteland. A pinch of this, a dash of that... a little fire, a touch of ice... they can be quite... delectable! The Shadows are a bit... bland. But the rare corpse of Soldiers that remains?! They have a certain... zest! A piquant flavor that's quite addictive!
Blizzard felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. This... this was beyond eccentric. This was... insane. He looked at Chirithy, whose tiny form trembled with rage.
Chirithy: Are you out of your mind?! You're suggesting they consume... Heartless? Creatures of pure darkness?!
Yen-Sid waved a dismissive hand, his expression unchanged.
Yen-Sid: Such a display of emotions is unbecoming, (he chided) It's a matter of survival. And in this world... one must be... resourceful. Adaptive. And, of course, practical.
He paused, his gaze turning inward, a wistful expression on his face.
[Young] Yen-Sid: And besides! It's not as if they have feelings. They're empty shells. Vessels of darkness. Consuming them... it's not cannibalism. It's... recycling.
Blizzard could only stare at him, speechless, his stomach churning. This... this was Yen-Sid's solution? To eat the very creatures they were supposed to be fighting? He'd faced down monstrous heartless, battled a Nobody fueled by vengeance, even stared into the face of a world-ending cataclysm being such as Jareth Vex.
And yet... this, this casual disregard for the sanctity of life, even the life of a Heartless, it was more disturbing than anything he'd encountered so far. He glanced at Chirithy, its face a mask of pure horror, its eyes wide with disbelief, pleading with him. But he couldn't speak. Couldn't even form a coherent thought.
He was frozen, trapped between the chilling reality of their situation – stranded in a desolate wasteland with dwindling supplies – and the growing madness that seemed to be consuming Yen-Sid. He felt a wave of nausea, the taste of bile rising in his throat.
What was worse? This... this thing that Yen-Sid was suggesting? Or 'The Lunatic,' with his talk of resetting reality, of a new world order built on the ashes of everything they held dear? Both options felt monstrous, each a path that led to a darkness he wasn't sure he could face.
Stuck in a moral quandary with no easy answers, it pressed down on him, heavy as a tombstone. This was wrong. All of it was wrong. He closed his eyes, wishing, for the first time since waking in that royal burial crypt, that he could simply... forget. Forget everything.
Blizzard: I... I can't...
His gaze moved upon one of the corpses scattered across the Colosseum floor. The sight of them, once a symbol of his mission, of his duty, now filled him with an almost unbearable revulsion.
He stumbled backwards, his hand flying to his mouth, and retched.
[Young] Yen-Sid: Bah! I knew it. You are simply weak. How pathetic, well? Suit yourself. More for me and my survival then, your loss, your pain, and all of it won't matter in the end.
He stared at Blizzard and Chirithy, his eyes filled with a mix of pity and disgust.
[Young] Yen-Sid: You haven't truly grasped the harsh realities of this world, have you? Sentimentality... (he sighed, shaking his head) It's a luxury we can no longer afford. Not here. Not in the Keyblade Graveyard. Here... we must embrace... the unconventional. The... unorthodox. The... well, the downright disgusting.
Blizzard couldn't help but notice the way Yen-Sid's gaze lingered on the Heartless corpses. It wasn't hunger, not exactly. It was something more... predatory. He shuddered, a cold dread seeping into his bones. He was trapped in this wasteland with a cannibal. A cannibal who ate monsters.
Chirithy: You're no better than those... those...vile cultists from the Red Dawn!
Yen-Sid seemed unfazed by their outrage however. He simply shrugged, a smug, self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips.
[Young] Yen-Sid: I assure you, my mind is quite lucid.
Blizzard and Chirithy exchanged bewildered glances, their expressions shifting from shock and disbelief.
Yen-Sid continued, his voice a low, almost conspiratorial murmur.
[Young] Yen-Sid: I am more accustomed and connected to light and darkness than the both of you! And yet, over the past decade, I have consumed countless Heartless, I can say, that you may find my methods... distasteful. Perhaps even... barbaric. And yet... this diet had no ill effects upon my physical body, my psyche or magical potential, aside from increased urination. I am alive! Well, and... surprisingly... regular.
Chirithy's expression, a mix of horror and fascination, held steady. It could find no flaw in his logic, or lack thereof.
Chirithy: But... you're a Keyblade wielder! Shouldn't you be... I don't know... avoiding darkness? Not consuming it? Isn't that... anathema to your very being? Shouldn't your magic, your essence, reject it? Cause you pain? Sickness? Madness?
Yen-Sid chuckled, a disturbingly cheerful sound.
[Young] Yen-Sid: That's where you're mistaken! The flesh within the darkness... it's... different. It doesn't corrupt, not in the way we traditionally understand it. Not fully, I would add. It's... inert, somehow. Dormant. Like a... well, like a... culinary delicacy waiting to be... savored.
Blizzard still felt a strong reluctance. The thought of consuming the embodiment of darkness made his skin crawl, each droplet of acid burning even further due to the notion.
Blizzard: But... but... it's disgusting! The thought alone... it's...
Yen-Sid placed a reassuring hand on Blizzard's shoulder, a touch that was meant to convey empathy but felt strangely cold, detached.
[Young] Yen-Sid: Perhaps, in another world, in a time of peace and plenty, your revulsion would be... understandable. But here, in the Keyblade Graveyard, practicality trumps... well, everything. We're stranded in a wasteland. Our resources are limited. And if we are to survive, if we are to complete our training? If we are to unlock this world?
He squeezed Blizzard's shoulder, his grip tightening, his voice dropping to a low, almost menacing murmur.
Yen-Sid: Consider the alternative. Starvation. A slow, agonizing death. Your body, your mind your very essence... withering away. Your mission... left unfulfilled. Do you truly wish to condemn yourself to such a fate? Or perhaps condemn all of the worlds within the cosmos?
He released his grip, stepping back, his gaze fixed on Blizzard's face, waiting for his response. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the drumming of the acidic rain against the Colosseum's walls.
Blizzard: I... I understand. But... it won't be easy.
Yen-Sid's smile returned, a manic glint in his eyes.
[Young] Yen-Sid: Ah! I knew you'd see reason eventually. Now, then! Let the... feast... begin! Though... before we indulge in the... culinary delights... of the Keyblade Graveyard, I believe a... campfire... is in order. We must procure the necessary materials.
He paused, his gaze shifting to the pile of Heartless corpses, a strange hunger flickering in his eyes.
[Young] Yen-Sid: And Blizzard... (he added as his voice softening) do try not to... dawdle. These delicacies, they tend to spoil... rather quickly in this less-than-ideal climate. Wouldn't want to... waste a perfectly good Shadow.
He chuckled, then turned and walked away. Blizzard and Chirithy watched him go, their gazes filled with a mix of unease.
Chirithy: He's gone mad. Completely and utterly mad. This... this is beyond anything I've ever witnessed, (It shuddered, pressing close to Blizzard, as though seeking comfort)
It didn't want to believe it. Couldn't believe it. It simply did not want to be true.
Blizzard's mind reeled, trying to process the enormity of Yen-Sid's suggestion, and as he glanced around the vast Colosseum, the towering walls of the entrance now seemed to close in on him, the shadows deepening.
He felt a growing sense of dread, and yet he is also confused. This... this was not the way. This wasn't how a Keyblade wielder was supposed to... survive. But... what choice did they have? They were trapped in a wasteland, their resources limited. And Yen-Sid... Yen-Sid was their only hope.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself. He would do what he had to do. For the worlds. For... for himself.
Blizzard: Let's... find some wood.
They ventured into the Colosseum's depths, their footsteps resonating through the vast, empty chamber. It was a grim task, this search for fuel, but Blizzard knew that he couldn't afford to hesitate. He wouldn't. He would not abandon his task. Not now, not when their very survival was at stake, but for all their worry as the minutes ticked by, they were thankfully greeted by nothing.
In the strange and unexpected silence of the Keyblade Graveyard Colosseum, Blizzard, Chirithy, and Yen-Sid found themselves consumed by an unsettling sense of unease. Despite the absence of any visible threat, their instincts screamed that they were not alone. Their time here has been met with eerie quiet.
A unsettling contrast to the anticipated chaotic nature of the Colosseum. It was as though an unseen force had swept through, erasing any trace of the battles and conflicts that should have marked this place. Yet, beneath the surface of the unnerving calm, a subtle tension lingered, a sense of anticipation as if the Colosseum itself was holding its breath.
Blizzard's gaze moved across the vast expanse of the arena, noticed something peculiar—footprints etched into the dusty floor. They were faint, almost imperceptible, but undeniably there. He knelt down, tracing the outline of the prints with his finger, his brow furrowing in thought. They were not his, nor 'The Lunatic' or Yen-Sid's. Someone else had been here, someone else has crossed these same grounds.
Yen-Sid noticed Blizzard's intense observation and approached, a hint of intrigue in his gaze. Blizzard's question, fueled by both curiosity and a sense of unease about this strange place, resonated with Yen-Sid's own desire to understand the mysteries of the Keyblade Graveyard.
Blizzard looked up at Yen-Sid, a mix of confusion and concern evident in his gaze.
Blizzard: I've found footprints here. Someone else has been in this Colosseum. (Blizzard stated as he gestured towards the ground where he had found the tracks, his voice betraying his unease.) I don't understand... There are none from the Heartless we fought earlier. The Colosseum was empty before we arrived, wasn't it?
Yen-Sid examined the footprints closer, his sharp eyes noticing the subtle indentation on the ground near Blizzard's own, its edges barely visible beneath a fine layer of dust and debris that had accumulated over time. A frown creased his brow as he recognized the unusual pattern, one that was distinctly different from any footwear he had encountered before.
[Young] Yen-Sid: Intriguing. (Yen-Sid muttered as his gaze followed the trail of footprints across the arena floor.) These tracks... they are unfamiliar. It seems we are not the only ones drawn to this desolate place.
Yen-Sid's curiosity piqued, he followed the trail of footprints, hoping to uncover the identity of the mysterious visitor. It's as if the Colosseum itself, in its silent majesty, has recorded the footsteps of those who had walked its grounds in the eons past, preserving thier essence within its walls.
A surge of unease coursed through Yen-Sid as he studied the ground, a chilling realization dawning on him. The footprints... they were not made by any being of this era. Their size, their shape, their depth... They whispered of an ancient presence. He sensed it then, a tremor of dark energy deep within the Colosseum's core.
Despite the disconcerting revelation, he pushed his fear aside. He couldn't allow his own anxieties, his own past traumas, to hinder their progress.
[Young] Yen-Sid: Right! (he exclaimed while clapping his hands together) Now that we've addressed the pressing matter of footprints, let us return to the equally pressing matter of sustenance! I do believe I'm feeling rather peckish.
His gaze shifted towards the pile of Heartless corpses, Blizzard and Chirithy shuddered.
Blizzard: I'm not eating those things. Not now. Not ever. I'll find something else. Anything else. But I won't...! I won't stoop to your level!
Yen-Sid's smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of annoyance. He shrugged, waving a dismissive hand.
[Young] Yen-Sid: Suit yourself, Blizzard. More for me, then. Though I must warn you, the... culinary options... in the Keyblade Graveyard... are somewhat... limited. And I doubt those water bottles in your bag can sustain you for so long. You'll be begging me for a... taste... before the week is out.
He chuckled, then turned and began sorting through the Heartless corpses, his movements swift, practiced. He selected a few of the smaller ones, the Shadows, tossing them into a pile near the Colosseum's entrance.
Blizzard turned away, his gaze sweeping over the Colosseum's vast interior, his mind racing. They would find wood. They would build a fire. They would survive. But he wouldn't... he wouldn't eat those things. He couldn't. Not yet.
As the trio continued their search for wood, they found themselves once again consumed by an unsettling feeling of being watched. They moved cautiously, their senses heightened, their Keyblades held at the ready, expecting some horrifying apparition to emerge from the shadows. But the Colosseum remained silent. Empty.
Blizzard stumbled upon a hidden storage room, its entrance concealed behind a tapestry depicting a battle between ancient warriors. Inside, he found stacks of dry, wooden planks, neatly piled and ready for use. It was a stroke of luck, a small victory in this desolate wasteland. He gathered as much as he could carry, his heart lighter despite the gnawing unease.
Meanwhile, Chirithy discovered a hidden chamber filled with fallen branches and withered vines. It carefully gathered them despite its small size.
Exploring the upper levels of the Colosseum, Yen-Sid found a hidden alcove filled with seasoned logs. This... this was perfect. He gathered the logs, their weight substantial, their potential for a roaring bonfire evident.
They returned to the Colosseum's entrance, their arms laden with their finds. As they laid the wood down, preparing to build their fire.
[Young] Yen-Sid: Well done! Now, let us prepare dinner!
Blizzard nodded, his stomach churning. They had no other choice, not in this barren wasteland.
He helped Yen-Sid gather the smaller Heartless, the Shadows. Their forms were solid, their shadowy flesh strangely meaty. They piled them near the campfire, the flames casting long shadows across the Colosseum.
With unsettling enthusiasm, Yen-Sid began preparing their grim meal. His movements were swift, practiced. He used his Keyblades, Wisdom and Enlightenment, with surprising dexterity, slicing through the shadowy flesh, separating limbs, extracting organs. He tossed unwanted pieces into the fire, the flames consuming them with a soft crackle.
He placed the extracted meat onto skewers, positioning them over the flames. He watched the black flesh transform, the darkness shifting to purple, then to a bronzed hue.
[Young] Yen-Sid: Ah! Almost ready! A culinary creation! Forged in darkness! This is how we survive in the Keyblade Graveyard. (he looked at Blizzard, his eyes alight with an unsettling hunger) Unless... you'd prefer to starve? I'm so famished I could eat an entire horde right now. And drink a small lake of water!
Blizzard hesitated, his gaze on the skewers. He could still taste blood from his earlier injuries, his stomach churning at the prospect of consuming this... wrongness. He looked at Chirithy, its visible disgust a reflection of his own revulsion.
Yen-Sid plucked a skewer from the fire, the aroma of cooked darkness heavy in the air. He took a large bite, chewing thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on Blizzard.
[Young] Yen-Sid: Well?! Don't just stare! It's surprisingly... palatable. Quite flavorful! You truly are missing out on a grand, if morbid, culinary experience.
Blizzard took a deep breath, then reached out and took a skewer. He closed his eyes, brought the meat to his lips, and bit down.
For a moment... nothing. Then a strange warmth spread through his stomach. The meat, surprisingly tender, had a unique, savory flavor. It wasn't unpleasant. It was just... different. He chewed slowly, trying to identify the nuances of the taste, the texture. Earthy. Metallic. Like roasted mushrooms? He couldn't quite place it. But it wasn't bad.
He swallowed, relief washing over him. He had done it. Consumed darkness. And he was still alive. He looked at Yen-Sid, who watched him, amused. He smiled weakly.
Blizzard: Not bad? Though, I still prefer Camelot's cooking. The chiefs had a way with... well, with everything, really.
And then... it hit him.
Blizzard: Agh...?!
Dizziness. A ringing in his ears. Distorted vision. The world shifted, colors fading to grey. He stumbled back, his hand clutching his throat. A pressure, a constriction, as if phantom fingers were choking him. He gasped, struggling to breathe, his eyes widened as their irises shifted to a burning yellow.
Chirithy: Blizzard! (it cried, rushing to his side) What is happening? Are you alright?
Yen-Sid watched, impassive, but his eyes held a flicker of... anticipation. This was all part of his plan.
[Young] Yen-Sid: Side effects. (he stated casually, taking another bite) A temporary inconvenience. They'll pass. Though the intensity varies depending on the... potency of the Heartless consumed.
With his vision clearing, his breathing steadying, Blizzard weakly leaned against a pillar as his body kept on trembling.
Blizzard: Side... effects...? (he stammered)
[Young] Yen-Sid: The darkness... it leaves its mark. A temporary one, certainly. Ephemeral. Transitory. It fades. Like a... bad dream. Or a particularly unpleasant... memory. Though, in your case, Blizzard, considering your... fragmented state... it might be... amplified, shall we say? And those sensation of hands squeezing on your neck? It's nothing! There is nothing to be concerned about!
Chirithy's eyes narrowed, its gaze fixed on Yen-Sid, its voice sharp with accusation.
Chirithy: You knew! You knew this would happen, didn't you? You deliberately withheld information! You deliberately put Blizzard in danger! Again! This isn't about survival, is it? This is about... about... (it sputtered, its rage momentarily eclipsing its vocabulary)
Yen-Sid shrugged, casually chewing on another piece.
[Young] Yen-Sid: True knowledge comes from experience. And sometimes... experience is unpleasant. Necessary, but unpleasant. Just a small price to pay for survival. (he swallowed, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face) I endured the same discomfort myself! When I first arrived in this... desolate wasteland. It was... unsettling. Like being choked by phantom hands! A strange pressure but the memory is fuzzy. My senses... distorted! Overwhelmed! It was... not an enjoyable experience! But I survived! And so will Blizzard!
He glanced at Blizzard, who sat slumped against a pillar, his trembling having subsided, his breathing evened out.
[Young] Yen-Sid: Besides! (he added, his voice laced with a mocking playfulness) It's not as if I force-fed him those... delicacies. He made his own choice. Free will, my dear. A concept you Dream Eaters seem to... struggle with.
He hopped down from the broken pillar, tossing the skewer aside. He brushed his hands together, a smug grin on his face.
[Young] Yen-Sid: I believe I've had my fill. Though a few dozen more of those larger ones... the Large Bodies... they would have been... ideal. I seem to have developed quite the appetite during our travels. Perhaps it's the invigorating air of the Keyblade Graveyard! Or maybe... just maybe... I'm finally embracing my true nature as a... gourmand of the grotesque?! (he chuckled, a disturbing sound that made Chirithy's fur stand on end)
He turned to Blizzard, his grin widening.
[Young] Yen-Sid: Now! (he declared with a voice full of renewed energy) I believe it's time for our training to... officially... commence! Though. (he paused, his expression shifting, a flicker of weariness in his eyes) I'm feeling rather... lethargic after that... hearty meal. I think... perhaps... a brief nap is in order. A power nap, for a powerful sorcerer! You two, however, are free to... explore the Colosseum. Familiarize yourself with its... unique... layout. Stretch your legs. Get some fresh air when the rain will clear off. Though... (he added with a pointed look) I'd advise against... straying too far. Wouldn't want you getting lost in this... desolate wasteland. Or worse... becoming... a midnight snack for a particularly peckish... Darkside.
He turned to leave, then stopped, his gaze fixed on Blizzard.
[Young] Yen-Sid: You know what? (he corrected himself, his voice firm) Not explore. You're not... quite ready for that. Not yet. Finish your meal first. (he gestured towards the remaining skewers, his tone brooking no argument) Then... you may rest. We have a long training ahead of us, after all!
Blizzard opened his mouth to protest, to argue that he wasn't hungry, that the thought of consuming any more of those... things... made his stomach churn. But Yen-Sid's gaze held a chilling intensity that silenced him. It was not a request. Not a suggestion. Not even an order. It was an imperative. And beneath the sorcerer's manic grin, he saw something else.
A flicker of genuine concern. Or maybe... just maybe... something far more sinister. A subtle manipulation. A test. He wasn't sure. But he knew, deep down, that defying Yen-Sid now would be a mistake. A dangerous one. He sighed, resignation heavy in his voice.
Blizzard: Fine. (he muttered, picking up another skewer) But this... this is the last one. I can't... I can't eat any more of these... things.
[Young] Yen-Sid: A wise decision! Nourishment is crucial for a growing Keyblade wielder! Especially one recovering from... a rather... traumatic experience.
He winked, then turned and walked away, leaving Blizzard alone with Chirithy and the unsettling aroma of cooked darkness.
Chirithy glared at Yen-Sid's retreating form, its small body trembling with a mix of rage and disgust.
Chirithy: He's mad! (it exclaimed as Yen-Sid disappeared down the hallways) Completely and utterly mad! This training... this whole insane plan... It's going to be your doom, Blizzard! No more! I can't allow this to continue!
Blizzard turned to Chirithy, his expression a mix of exhaustion and a weary acceptance.
Blizzard: I know. (he sighed, the weight of their predicament, their isolation in this desolate wasteland a physical pressure on his chest) But... we're trapped here. And Yen-Sid... he's the only one who...
He trailed off, the unspoken question hanging heavy in the air. The only one who could what? Help him regain his memories? Unlock his full potential as a Keyblade wielder? Defeat the Organization? Avenge Josiah? He wasn't even sure anymore. The goals, the reasons, the justifications... they were all blurring.
He took another bite of the Heartless meat, the taste... surprisingly... not unpleasant. It was savory, almost... familiar. Like a well-seasoned steak and a mushroom at the same time, cooked over an open fire. He chewed slowly, savoring the flavor, the texture, a brief moment of normalcy in this warped, chaotic reality. And that, more than the taste itself, was the disturbing part.
He was consuming darkness, the very thing he was supposed to be fighting against. And yet... he couldn't deny the fact that his body craved it, his energy reserves responding with a surge of warmth, of renewed vitality.
He was stronger now, faster, more alert. It was a dangerous seduction, a trade he wasn't sure he could afford. This grim feast... it was sustenance, yes. But it was also a slow poison, a creeping darkness that threatened to consume him from the inside out. And the worst part...? It was their only option. For a whole year. He was trapped in a gilded cage. It made him shudder.
He looked at the remaining skewers, the Heartless meat sizzling over the flames, its charred surface now a glistening invitation rather than one of disgust. He was both repulsed and strangely... drawn to it. He knew he shouldn't eat any more, that Chirithy was right to warn him, to scold him.
He was starving. And the taste... well, the taste wasn't the problem. It was the... aftertaste. The phantom fingers at his throat, the distorted vision, the whispers in the darkness... He shivered, pushing the unsettling sensations aside, focusing on the empty ache in his stomach.
He took another bite, the savory flavor a fleeting comfort, quickly replaced by the metallic tang of blood and the bitter knowledge that this... this was his new reality.
A fresh wave of grief washed over him, a crushing weight that made it hard to breathe. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears escaping, tracing a path down his cheeks.
He didn't know what he'd failed at. He was adrift, lost in a sea of uncertainty, his only anchor the cold, hard reality of his present. He had to keep moving. Had to keep fighting. He had to survive. For Josiah. For the worlds. For... He wasn't even sure anymore.
He took another bite of the meat as he stared into the fire, willing himself to be strong as much as grateful for this... sustenance.
And thus... later on that night... sleep claimed them both.
The effects of the Heartless' meat altered his dreams. A subtle unease grew, blooming into a torrent of horrors. He found himself in the Keyblade Graveyard, trapped in perpetual twilight. Shadows danced, contorting into monstrous forms. Dread filled him, cold and suffocating. He tried to run, but his movements were slow, heavy, each step an eternity. The ground shifted beneath his feet, unstable, treacherous. Whispers slithered through the air, mocking, accusing.
Figures emerged from the shadows. Josiah, but... not. Their eyes glowed with an unnatural light, their smiles too wide, grotesque. They surrounded him, their voices, a chorus of warped Josiah's.
'̶͒͜W̷͈̎h̶̬̀y̴͖̒,̶̙̅ ̵̩͊B̸̗̀l̶̢̕i̵̻͆z̸̠̏z̴͓̕a̶̡̓r̶̘̀d̶͈̐?̴̫́ ̸̩̈́W̵̥̍h̶̯́ý̶̻ ̷̦̊d̸̠̒i̶̦̋d̷̠̀ ̵̛͉y̵̟̿o̸̪͌u̴̡̎ ̶̻̈́å̵̡b̶̀ͅá̸͔n̵͎̽d̵̫͝ò̶̠n̴̰͘ ̸̯̃m̷̭̕ě̴͜?̶͉̾'̸͎͝
'̴͙̌Ỵ̶͐o̸̹̐ů̶͖ ̸̏͜f̷̲́a̷̖̾i̴͕͠l̵̦͂é̸̙d̶͙͝.̷̱̕ ̸͈̊ ̵̝͝W̶̱͠ḙ̴̅a̴̭͝k̵̥͆.̷͔̃ ̵͎́P̵͔̄o̴̡̓ẅ̷̗ė̷͓r̸̗̔l̵̮̀ḙ̶̅s̴̟̏ś̶̻.̷̘̃ ̴̮́J̵͖̎u̶̻͋s̸̜̉t̵̻̒ ̷̥̕l̶̨̾i̸̘͠k̸̤̔e̸͔͆ ̴͇̆y̷̰̿o̴̼͆u̵͍̒r̷̭͐ ̴͕͝f̴̬͐ṙ̵̦i̴̥̾ë̸͓́ṋ̶̉d̶̘͒s̵̨̀.̷̠̋'̴̹̔
'̸̼̍Ṯ̴̽h̸͖̋i̷̱͋s̶͈̃ ̴̣͘i̸͎̓s̴̛ͅ ̴̹͌y̴̥̐ó̸͕u̵͇̔r̷̺̐ ̴̪͊f̷͎͗ạ̸̑ṷ̸̉l̸̙̋t̴̰̀'̶̙̈́
He stumbled back, but his body was unresponsive, frozen by terror.
The Josiah's closed in, their forms shifting, grotesque mockeries, their voices a cacophony. They reached for him, their hands like claws. He was trapped, suffocating.
His vision blurred. The world distorted. Darkness encroached, consuming him. He felt searing pain as the Josiah's converged, their laughter a discordant chorus, their forms pressing against him, crushing, suffocating.
His heart stopped beating. Then... he woke.
Gasping, drenched in sweat, he sat up, his heart hammering against his ribs. He looked around the shuttle's familiar cabin, disoriented. A dream. But it felt so real. He stumbled out of bed, desperate for fresh air.
Chirithy: Blizzard...? Are you alright? Another nightmare?
He nodded, unable to speak. The image of Josiah...
Chirithy: It's alright, Blizzard. Just a dream. It's just the past, forget it, they can't hurt you.
He looked down at Chirithy, gratitude and exhaustion warring within him. He stroked its large rounded head.
Blizzard: I know. (he sighed) But what if... what if it's not just the Heartless' flesh? What if it's... my memories? Coming back... distorted? Like... in the dream?
Chirithy's eyes narrowed, then softened.
Chirithy: It's just stress, Blizzard. Exhaustion. Your mind is still recovering. It's... it's understandable, after everything you've been through. Give it time. You'll be alright. I promise. I'll make sure of it.
Blizzard looked at Chirithy, searching its eyes for... something. Reassurance? Confirmation? He wasn't sure. But what he saw there wasn't the unwavering confidence he'd come to expect. It was... doubt. A flicker of uncertainty that mirrored his own growing unease.
Blizzard: I don't know, Chirithy. (he sighed) This... this whole thing... this training those nightmares. (his gaze drifted towards the viewport, to the desolate expanse of the Keyblade Graveyard) A wasteland of decayed keyblades) It's changing me. I can feel it. I'm not sure it's worth it. What's the point of unlocking worlds, of fighting the darkness, if I lose myself in the process? What's the point of saving everyone if i become like... Yen-Sid?
Chirithy paused, its eyes narrowed, feigning an air of light annoyance.
Chirithy: Like Yen-Sid? Really? (it scoffed, a hint of amusement in its voice) You honestly think you'll become a paranoid, reclusive sorcerer just because you're training in a graveyard? Don't be absurd! Yen-Sid's... eccentricities... stem from far more than just his choice of residence! Trust me, becoming like Yen-Sid is not your most pressing concern.
Blizzard couldn't help but laugh, the sound a welcome release of tension in the desolate landscape. Chirithy's words, though exaggerated, held a kernel of truth. Yen-Sid was... unique. And while Blizzard appreciated the sorcerer's efforts to help him, to train him, he couldn't deny the growing unease he felt in the man's presence. There was a darkness lurking beneath Yen-Sid's eccentric facade, a madness that both intrigued and terrified him.
Blizzard: So. (he began asking while wiping a tear from his eye, his laughter subsiding) what do you suggest we do? Abandon our training? Return to Yen-Sid's tower, lock ourselves inside, and spend our days sipping herbal tea and listening to his pronouncements while Jameson is slowly losing hope? Is that what Josiah would have wanted? Is that what would honor his sacrifice?
Chirithy's expression softened, its earlier levity replaced by a genuine concern.
Chirithy: No, of course not. Despite his... quirks... Yen-Sid is still the most powerful wielder, aside from 'The Lunatic.' He has knowledge. Insights. He can help you unlock your full potential, Blizzard. And that's what Josiah would have wanted. For you to be strong. To keep fighting. To honor his memory by... by becoming the best version of yourself. Not by giving up. Not by wallowing in grief. But by becoming the kind of Keyblade wielder... the kind of person... who'll make a real difference. He wouldn't want you to abandon your path, not after everything you've both been through. He'd want you to...
It paused, its gaze fixed on Blizzard's face, its voice dropping to a gentle whisper.
Chirithy: You have to let go of the past, for yourself. Trust me. This... this self-destructive spiral... It's not what he would've wanted. He wouldn't want you to become another... casualty. You're stronger than that. Braver. You have so much potential... But that potential, it lies within Frostbite, Blizzard. Not Inferno. That that Keyblade is too dangerous. Too volatile. It's connected to a part of you, a part of your past... that's best left undisturbed.
It looked at him, a deep sadness in its eyes.
Chirithy: Inferno is... tainted by Darkness. It will consume you if you let it. Corrupt you. Twist you into something you will hate with every fiber of your being. You made me a promise, Blizzard. Remember? No more Inferno. You have Frostbite. It's enough. It's all you need. It's all... I need you to wield.
Blizzard gazed out at the Keyblade Graveyard, Josiah's face flashing, distorted by grief and loss, but also alight with a courage, with sacrifice. He hadn't known Josiah for long, a month or two, perhaps. But in that short time, he'd become more of a father to him than anyone Blizzard could vaguely remember from those few shattered dreams and memories.
Blizzard: I... (he struggled to keep himself from crying out)
'You... you'll make it, Blizzard. I know you will...'
He took a deep breath, and when he opened his eyes again, the turmoil that had clouded his gaze had subsided, replaced by a almost cold calmness. He was done with the nightmares. Done with the doubts. Done with the fear. He had a voyage to finish.
'Within the next few days...'
The desolate expanse of the Keyblade Graveyard stretched out before them. Blizzard trudged forward. Beside him, Yen-Sid strode with sheer madness.
[Young] Yen-Sid: This place is about to tests your very core! (he declared as his voice echoed with arrogance and apprehension) A year in this wasteland will forge us anew! Reveal our true potential!
Blizzard: Our potential? Last time I was here, it was... peaceful. We even had a picnic. You're being dramatic.
[Young] Yen-Sid: Bah! You were merely fortunate! The weather was clear! The cosmic tides of chaos at low ebb! This place is not to be underestimated. It is a realm of... infinite possibilities. And who knows... perhaps this time... we shall witness a true spectacle! He shuddered, a manic grin twisting his lips. There's something... unwholesome about this place!
Blizzard felt a growing unease. He knew Yen-Sid's words held a disturbing truth, that this place possessed a power that defied reason, a chaotic energy that could corrupt. He tightened his grip on Frostbite, the icy energy a welcome anchor. He glanced at the sky, the swirling clouds a unsettling sight, and unease filled him.
He did not like this place.
Under Yen-Sid's erratic tutelage, they began their training. A brutal regimen, pushing them to their limits, basic exercises became torturous trials, fueled by Yen-Sid's manic energy. He demonstrated techniques as his body moved with impossible speed, leaving Blizzard struggling.
Days bled into weeks, the relentless training taking its toll. Blizzard's muscles ached, his body weary, but he pushed through.
A sudden shift. The sky turned crimson while being covered by dark clouds, then orange, a vortex of fire. And then... it began to rain fire. Molten lava, sizzling as it struck the ground.
Blizzard: What... what is it this time?
Chirithy: It's the Keyblade Graveyard. It... it hates us.
Yen-Sid, however, seemed unfazed.
[Young] Yen-Sid: Magnificent! (he cried) A true spectacle! A display of cosmic power! This, Blizzard, this is what I've been talking about! A true forging ground for Keyblade Masters!
Blizzard and Chirithy stared at him, speechless. Yen-Sid... he was insane.
Within seconds, the ground beneath them sizzled and cracked as small rivers of lava flowed, the heat intense, the air heavy with the scent of burning rock.
Chirithy: We can't stay here! (it yelled in urgency) We have to get back to the Colosseum! We'll burn!
[Young] Yen-Sid: Nonsense! A little heat never hurt anyone! This is perfect! A true test of our adaptability! (he paused, as his eyes widened with barbaric excitement) Though. (he added, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper) I must confess... I'm rather looking forward to seeing how our little furball handles this fiery baptism. It'll be most entertaining!
Blizzard felt a knot of unease tighten in his stomach. He looked at Chirithy, whose wide eyes mirrored his growing apprehension. He had to be strong. But fear, cold and sharp, cut through his bravado. He squeezed both of his hands on the handle of Frostbite
Blizzard: I... I have to become a Keyblade Master! (he stammered, the words a desperate plea) It's... it's all I have left...!
[Young] Yen-Sid: A Master, you say? With a single Keyblade, and a handicap? My dear Blizzard, you have so much to learn! But fear not! I, Yen-Sid, your wise and powerful mentor, shall guide you! I shall mold you into the ultimate Keyblade wielder! A warrior of light! A beacon of hope! A... well, a... slightly less pathetic version of your current self! (he lowered his voice, a conspiratorial whisper) Though be warned! Arrogance can be a dangerous companion in this desolate place!
He turned, his eyes sweeping over the fiery landscape. He looked at Blizzard, a disturbing intensity in his gaze.
[Young] Yen-Sid: Let the training... truly... begin! Are you ready to dance with fire? Because whether you are or not... this inferno isn't going anywhere! And neither are we! (he charged forward, his Keyblades blazing, his laughter a dissonant melody against the roar of the fiery rain) Show me what you're made of, boy! Or be consumed by the flames of your own... inadequacy!
Blizzard hesitated, his heart pounding against his ribs. He looked at Chirithy, trembling, its eyes wide with terror. He had to protect it. Had to be strong. He took a deep breath, steeling himself as he charged foward.
He would not wield Inferno. Not yet. Not while Chirithy watched, its fear a silent plea. He would face this crucible with the weapon he knew, the power he could control. He would not succumb. He would dance with fire. And he would survive. This time. For himself.