Sid stared in disbelief as Jareth Vex addressed him, questioning if he had forgotten the familial courtesies. Sid could only manage to articulate.
Jareth Sid: What... family?
Vex had eradicated everything, including the island they once inhabited, reduced to ash by Heartless. Vex shook his head slowly, a faint, knowing smile forming on his lips, his eyes briefly closed.
Jareth Vex: Is that truly how you see it, brother? I was merely... enthusiastic to display my accomplishments, having surpassed Father, having taken his place. Why am I automatically assigned blame for the inferno, for the Heartless' arrival? Those were but insignificant side effects of my triumph, or perhaps the lingering incompetence of dear old Father.
Jareth Sid: Shut... shut your mouth. (Sid whispered while wrenching his gaze away from his brother, a wave of nausea churning within him)
Jareth Vex: Say again? (Vex tilted his head, an eyebrow arched in mocking curiosity)
Sid's voice was now raw with suppressed grief while cutting through the stillness.
Jareth Sid: Our mother is dead, Jareth. Her blood is on your hands. To utter the word 'family' now is a vile obscenity.
Jareth Vex: The jest... is yours, brother.
As he spoke, the boat grated against the shore of a small island, a desolate plateau of ashen earth. Yen-Sid blinked, and his hands and feets were on the gritty, lifeless ground. Recognition struck him instantly.
This was their homeland, the island of their shared youth, now a scarred wasteland. A single, dilapidated wooden structure remained standing, barely, amidst the charred ruins of what had once been a community. Within the skeletal remains of the house, a crushed wooden bed lay amidst the debris.
Vex gestured invitingly.
Jareth Vex: Come, brother. Witness the fruit of your abandonment.
Sid remained planted, his feet as if fused to the ashen ground, recoiling as if burned.
Jareth Sid: I won't. (his voice was a low rasp, thick with unshed tears and revulsion)
Jareth Vex: Such cowardice. Come now! It's merely a tour of our origins, a necessary reminder for you.
He crouched, his fingers brushing against something on the floor near the broken bed.
Jareth Vex: Ah! There she is.
He picked up a skull, its features delicate, unmistakably feminine.
Jareth Vex: Purity... ultimately so frail. Our mother.
The sorcerer felt a surge of fury, his hands summoning Wisdom and Enlightenment in an instinctive reaction. He covered the twenty meters separating them in what felt like a single heartbeat, lunging towards his brother with the intent of obliterating Jareth Vex, right there and then.
Sid halted his charge mere inches away however, his nostrils flaring, his face contorted in revulsion and agony as Jareth Vex raised their mother's skull, using it as a crude shield.
Jareth Vex: What's this, brother? Trying to harm dear mother? Oh, but you've already accomplished that, haven't you? Couldn't even save her from her misery. And such pointless misery it was. Her own failing, really.
With a dismissive gesture of a jester – the skull sailed through the air.
Sid gasped, leaping forward, his feet not even touching the scorched earth outside the house before his hands closed around his mother's skull. His hands trembled violently, the feel of the bone sickening. Sweat plastered strands of hair to his forehead.
The weight of it, holding the remnants of... her. It was unbearable, choking any sound in his throat. Jareth Vex strolled out of the ruined house, leaning against a scorched wall, his arms crossed.
Jareth Vex: How does it feel? To have failed so completely? Had you not fled into that abyss, into that wretched tower, perhaps you could have done something. Did you even know? She lingered, barely alive. What a waste. What exactly were you doing all that time, hmm?
Sid let out a strained, disbelieving sound that was meant to be a laugh, but emerged as a choked sob. His hands trembled harder, as if the weight of the bone was dragging his arms down. He blinked rapidly, trying to force away the sting of tears, his gaze fixed on the cold, unyielding curve of the cranium in his grasp.
Jareth Sid: The Heartless... they were everywhere. What could I have done? Just one Keyblade... It was too overwhelming.
He swallowed, his throat tight.
Jareth Sid: I... I had to go through that portal It was the only way. I... I didn't want to die. That's the truth of it. And the roof! It collapsed. I just... I assumed...
His voice trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the ashen air. He finally lifted his gaze from the skull to meet Jareth's, his expression a mixture of fear and a desperate plea for understanding that he knew would not be met.
With a slight curl to his lips. Vex pushed himself off the wall, taking a step closer, his yellow eyes glinting in the muted light.
Jareth Vex: Assumed? Always so quick to conjure a convenient narrative, weren't you, brother? Those creatures... they weren't some insurmountable force, were they? A few dozen Shadows at best. Pathetic things.
He moved closer still, stopping a few feet away.
Jareth Vex: Come on, now. An Energy Level of thirty, maybe? At the time? Hardly a terrifying prospect. Run away? Hide? Ha! A sound strategy for someone so gifted.
Her face, once filled with kindness, her gentle smile, now only remained in memory – starkly different from the cold, unyielding object in his grasp. He studied the skull, every curve, every hollow, seeking an answer in the smooth, unfeeling surface, but only finding pain and sorrow. The longer he gazed, the more her presence pressed in on him.
Jareth Vex: Such a moving display, brother. It does make you think, does it not? That we are, in the end, family? And nothing could ever change that.
With trembling hands, he raised the skull higher, his throat tightening. Her face, a memory. Her smile, replaced by nothing but this hollow thing. His brother's mocking tone made him more distressed as the young sorcerer stared at the remains of his mother.
She is... gone. But how...?
He glanced at his brother, eyes wide with disbelief and terror. No, this could not be. It cannot be real. His brother is dead. He is supposed to be dead.
He was interrupted by a bizarre sensation. The ashen ground beneath him began to churn, as if something were clawing its way up from beneath. Like diseased trees pushing through poisoned soil, multiple tombstones erupted from the earth. Each was initially inscribed with the name.
'Sid'.
He blinked, and the name on each tombstone twisted and reformed, revealing.
'Jareth Sid,'
The stones stretched out endlessly, each bearing his true name, each one a symbol of what might have been if he had not run. All the possibilities, all the lives he could have lived... they were all... him, or the countless versions he could have become if he hadn't chosen the wrong path.
Sid closed his eyes, a tremor running through his body as his features contorted with a grief that was quickly threatening to spill out in a torrent of tears. His lip trembled slightly, and a single, silent tear escaped from the corner of his eye, tracing a path down his temple before he opened his eyes once more.
Jareth Sid: Perhaps... perhaps it's time I let it all fade away. Those painful reminders. Those cursed, wretched fragments of the past. My memories, this existence... it will all cease to matter if it's gone. With all the sorrow and all the pain gone... perhaps... perhaps I can be reborn under a different name. My past life is a burden. A prison that holds me back from achieving my duty... I cannot hope to stop the Organization and that man. To help Blizzard... and protect the very fabric of the universe itself... so long as my past continues to haunt me. This endless torture... it's pointless. It's a burden I cannot longer bear.
Jareth Vex: Is that so? So all this time... all that effort to simply return into nothing? Is this your final choice? To throw away everything you have ever become in order to become a mindless soldier?
Sid nodded slowly, a defeated inclination of his head, his gaze fixed upon the ground.
Jareth Vex: Fool! To simply forget, to erase everything? After all this, after you left us to die, you now seek the oblivion that you were too weak to endure? You cannot understand, can you? It was easy! You had everything you needed to stop Father! You were too lazy to pick up on the signs, to notice what was happening right in front of you! And now, you wish to bury your head in the sand like a child? To live a lie? Do you truly want to throw your life away by taking the easy path of forgetting?!
'My given name is Jareth Sid. Cast your minds back seven years, I was but a child of twelve in the Crimson World—a world ensnared alongside its inhabitants, a prison under the guise of home. Our realm was one of vast, rocky expanses, plateau, above an endless green sea, the sky above a perpetual canvas of swirling crimson and purple. Among twenty such islands, our small community struggled, yet thrived even, thanks to the generosity of the land. Farming was our source, and my parents, my brother Jareth Vex, and I, were all part of it.'
We followed the cycle of planting, nurturing, and harvesting, each task a crucial step in ensuring the survival of our family and community, our days dictated by the rhythms of nature and the seasons.
Three years my older brother, Jareth Vex. His mind constantly alight with curiosity, where I found a sense of peace in the quiet routines of our life, Vex was drawn to the world beyond the plateau, always looking toward the horizon, his gaze fixed on the neighboring plateaus. He was drawn to urban legends, and old folktales of an ancient war and of a boy that slept with a giant key that would one day bring salvation to us all.
While I diligently focused on my tasks, mastering the intricate details of cultivating the land and ensuring that our fields were always bountiful, Vex was far more drawn to the crafts that sustained our community. He possessed an uncanny skill in fashioning tools, in carving wood into functional and beautiful shapes and objects. His hands were never still, forever moving, learning from each other and their mistakes, perfecting what was already there or coming up with something new entirely.
He was the only child on our island who could make a blade out of wood strong enough for it to never bend during a training duel. And he was always experimenting, always pushing the boundaries, always creating something new. Whether it was a toy that was meant to entertain the other kids, or a tool to make life easier for our parents and neighbors, he was always contributing, and his talent made him popular among the other kids and a source of pride for the parents, even though our Father had a difficult time expressing his appreciation for his older son.
Where I sought a quiet life, Vex desired recognition. And to gain it, he sought to test his own limits by trying to do every single task the community had at the same time. And where he always failed and would simply laugh it off, I always finished what I started and was praised for it.
Our parents were different, yet their love for us was unwavering. My father was a man of few words, his affection expressed through quiet instruction and the careful preservation of traditions passed down through countless generations.
He was a link to a world that had been lost, a world that he had not experienced himself, and yet, he tried his best to explain everything that was left of it, a world beyond our immediate surroundings. He claimed that his own great-grandfather saw it all. He always talked about how a world existed before ours.
Before the shattering, the sundering . A world of such immense beauty that our simple minds could not even begin to comprehend it, a place with towers of glass that reached beyond the heavens, flying machines, and glowing panels that could show images and videos. And yet... this world, this bastion of science, was consumed by a terrible war, one that shattered the universe.
He was part of that world, before the cataclysm, they all were, our ancestors were. And they sought to find any answers as to why this had happened, and how they could prevent a new cataclysm from occurring. For that reason, he devoted his life in preserving this knowledge and technique so that his children, and grand children, could survive this new world. For that reason, we lived in isolation, away from the temptation of others.
My mother, however, was the complete opposite, a constant source of warmth, nurturing both our bodies and spirits with laughter, endless affection and her constant kindness, a vibrant beacon of light in our isolated existence. She saw the world through rose-tinted glasses, and every single day she found a reason to celebrate the fact that we were all alive and well. Her stories were the heart of our house, a window into a world beyond our grasp.
A world of heroes, dragons, of kingdoms lost to time, and an ancient, sleeping boy, with a giant Key. She always claimed that the tales were real, a collection of stories passed down through many generations, a remnant of the lost knowledge that my Father kept so diligently.
She would always reward anyone who contributed to the community with small, handmade gifts, often carvings of animals and other creatures, and a hug so warm, that could chase away all the worries from the day. She was the glue that held our family, our home, our lives together. Where father was preparing us for what was outside, Mother was preparing us for what was inside.
I excelled in the quiet arts of the farm, finding a connection with the land, and learning how to follow its rhythms and understand its mysteries. My skills in ensuring a good yield made me invaluable to the community, and while this praise was welcome, I still lacked Vex's confidence, always seeing myself as inadequate.
He would always call me a genius for how fast I learnt all the complex math needed to make sure that our crops would not be destroyed, and how I could always know what day to begin harvesting them. Even our Father sought my guidance on this when he had doubts. But I never believed that I was smart or good. I simply felt like I was doing what was expected of me.
Yet, despite our differences, we shared a bond forged in childhood games, a shared space where we could be ourselves. As kids, we would often engage in mock battles using Vex's wooden swords, always testing our strength, testing our limits. We would climb the tallest trees, dive in the deepest waters, and explore every single corner of our island, always seeking some kind of thrilling escapade.
We would always finish our tasks early, so that we could play with the other children until our parents told us to return. Our house was filled with laughter and warmth, our family was content, if isolated, from the rest of the world. We found comfort in the familiar, in the knowledge that the cycle would continue, that every seed would find new life, and that every day, we were guaranteed to always be surrounded by those we loved.
Jareth Sid: Mother, Father, I've gathered the harvest from the eastern fields.
Mother: Well done, my son. Your hard work keeps our family fed. Another bountiful harvest, thanks to you.
Jareth Vex: And look what I made today! I added extra support to the fishing rods so they won't break when the tides are too strong!
Father: Yes, you're both diligent young man. Our community thrives because of the land's abundance and our dedication, thank to you. A fine harvest once again.
The world around us shifted on its axis. A tempest of unnatural proportions ravaged one of their neighboring islands, a dreadful spectacle of nature's rage visible from their own home, casting a long shadow over my father's heart.
The playful mood in our house changed to one of deep concern, as the laughter was replaced with strained silence. That night, dinner was consumed in an uncomfortable hush, until my father, driven by some unhinged impulse, spoke in a grim tone. It was as if the storm had awoken something within him, a darkness that would change the course of our lives forever.
Jareth Sid: Father, is something troubling you?
Father: I... I witnessed a bizarre storm on one of our neighboring islands today. Its sheer force was beyond anything imaginable. It was as if a void had opened up, as if some great abyss of nothingness had swallowed that world entirely. The very sky itself had twisted, and it consumed everything in its path. A sign that nothing is sacred, and that in the end, everything dies.
Mother: A storm? But the weather patterns here have always been predictable. These storms always dissipate so quickly. It's as if they never existed at all, it has always been so.
Father: No, this... this was different. It felt... like a warning. A terrible omen, the universe itself screaming to us that we are doomed. It felt as if some great and terrifying force has opened a hole through the very fabric of reality. A glimpse of the cruelty, the pointless suffering we endure. How petty our lives are, what meaningless tasks we are destined to do. To farm, to harvest, to fish, only to be destroyed by Heartless. How are we supposed to enjoy this if every single day we run the risk of being eaten alive? This loop... it is unbearable, I do not want my children to suffer this pointless existence. How we are destined to die. To suffer, in the end, for nothing at all.
An uncomfortable hush fell across the table. It felt as if the weight of the world was pressing down on them all.
Jareth Sid: Father? Why so dire? Are you not going to eat? The food is getting cold...
His young, twelve-year-old voice, was but a weak whisper, as a small hand reaches to take his plate away. He was so scared. It was the first time he saw his Father acting so irrationally and he did not like it.
Father: Do you not see, Sid? We are prisoners, we are being caged in this loop. This pointless and endless task that we call life. We are nothing more than farm animals for these creatures of darkness. Why do we bother? Why do we keep toiling, day after day, to simply survive? We rise each day only to labour, only to keep the cycle repeating. Is this all that we are destined for? Is this all that we deserve?!
He then slammed the table and looked across to his older son. Vex.
Father: What do these communities do, Vex? What do they do when the shadows come? When those Heartless come to devour us all? What do the weak do? What is their defense?
Vex lowered his gaze to his food, and with a small and shy voice, he gave an answer.
Jareth Vex: They... they run.
Father: Exactly! That is precisely the problem! (he turned to look back at Sid) The fact is that they cannot fight back, no matter how hard they try. Every few years, or so, communities are forced to run away on boats, away from their Plateau towards the next available, and habitable land, as even a single Heartless is enough to be unstoppable. And they are meant to simply accept it and live on?
Jareth Sid: What else can we do, Father? They're... they're Heartless. You can't just... stop them.
Jareth Vex: But... maybe... if we all worked together, we could find a way... or maybe a safer place...
Father We... as a specie! All depend on luck! On the luck that their new Plateau will have fertile soil, enough water, resources and trees to begin with. And then, the cycle begins once more. Day after day, hoping and praying to survive in this world that only seeks to devour us all. Do you truly believe that this is the best that we can do? Is that it? A meaningless struggle only to be devoured in the end? Is that all? Just survive, like cattle? Live day after day, only to become the supper of monsters? Do you understand my point? Is this a cycle you wish to repeat for all eternity? Because I will not!
Mother's face grew pale, a deep concern etched into her features, and her eyes grew wide with a terrible fright. His brother, Vex, looked on with an unsettling focus, his gaze fixed upon their father, his mind racing.
Mother: Please, my love, what has gotten into you? You are starting to scare the children. This is senseless! You are talking madness!
Father: No! It is not madness! My eyes are finally opened to the truth! This cage, this endless and pointless cycle of pain, I will no longer tolerate this. We must evolve! To surpass these limitations, to find the path to a better existence! To become something more. To become something better. To become gods and free ourselves from our fated doom!
The arrival of dawn brought the onset of chaos. His father, his mind shattered by delusions, began his quest for evolution, gathering those he considered closest to him, individuals who had placed their trust in him throughout his life.
Those who had known him long enough and understood the pain he had so long held within his heart and now had chosen to express outwardly. He spoke with passion, his voice a mix of terror and hope, painting vivid pictures of their doomed fates and the promise of a better world if only they followed him.
His words, previously muttered in hushed tones last night, were now shouted out in the open for all to hear. He had finally gone mad, it was a madness that they could, for the first time in their lives, understand. For the first time in their lives, someone else other than themself had acknowledged how absurd their entire existence was.
How meaningless their struggles, their hopes, and their prayers had become. And when given the choice to give up this cycle, to find hope in this new, insane, but beautiful idea, they followed. He started a cult, born from a man who could no longer accept the cruel world they lived in.
Father: No longer will we be mere prisoners trapped inside mortal bodies! We will become more than this! Join me, and together, we shall rise! We shall evolve! And together, we shall carve a new path to the next step in our evolution! A path for our children!
Mother could only watch in alarm as Vex followed their father towards the distant boat.
Mother: Vex! My son! Please, I beg of you! Do not follow him! Do not go! Please! He is not himself anymore! He is lost to this idea! Come back!
Vex hesitated, looking between his mother's distraught figure and the resolute face of his father. He struggled, his eyes conveying conflict and confusion. He swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. And slowly, moved to join the men waiting on the beach.
He turned away from the small house and the tearful face of his mother, his face was grim, conveying a silent defeat. As he walked towards the waiting boat, he recognized the truth in his father's words. This world held nothing for him. It was a cage, where life would only bring pain, suffering, and death at the hands of mindless beasts.
An endless repeat of meaningless tasks, all culminating in death. And yet, his father was offering something she wasn't, a fragile hope to escape, a promise that he, along with his brother, would never have to experience that.
As he stepped onto the boat, his father's hand clamped down on his left shoulder, a surprising force in that grip. His gaze was fixed on Vex, a rare expression of pride and affection momentarily softening the harsh lines of his face. The other men, a motley collection of former farmers, fishermen and broken hearts, clapped and cheered, a raucous cacophony that celebrated Vex as their newest, and youngest recruit.
Father: Well done, my son. You have finally understood what must be done. You have proven yourself to be a son of courage. You have made the correct choice. The world that had held us captive, will soon learn to fear the very thing it created.
The boats began to move away from the shore, leaving a frothing wake in its path. Sid and his mother were already small, distant figures on the beach, their shapes blurring with distance. They were becoming nothing more than indistinct silhouettes against the ashen sand.
Jareth Sid: Vex! No! Please... come back!
His voice was torn by a grief that was far beyond his young years. His feet dug into the sand as he ran towards the water's edge, his small arms outstretched, reaching for something that was already beyond his grasp. A cry of despair, a final plea, that would not be answered.
Mother: Vex! My beloved boy! Please... do not leave us! You are my son! You are all that I have left! Jareth! I beg of you! Please, do not abandon us! We are your family! We love you!
Her words were a desperate sob, a heartbreaking mixture of sorrow and fear, as the boats cut through the water. She watched, her face wet with tears, as her son turned his head, for just a fraction of a second, to gaze back. A single tear escaped, tracing a path down his dirt-smudged cheek, before the boats turned away towards the endless sea.
For the last time, he was gone from his sight. The distance between him and his family grew with each passing moment. Sid now felt as if his family, his past, was no more. And so, with a heavy heart, he lowered his hands as he watched, a painful silence now replacing the sounds of his pleas.
A thick, unnatural fog began to envelop the green sea. It rolled over the water like a living thing, tendrils reaching out to consume everything in its path, making the island of their home disappear behind a wall of impenetrable grey, its shores vanishing from sight.
One by one the other boats were swallowed as the sounds of the other passengers faded away with the fog. The world was reduced to his Father's Boat, as he gazed at the island with a grim face. It looked small now. He had made the right choice and now, they had to move forward without ever looking back.
They cannot afford to.
Vex turned to face his Father. His anxiety growing, and a mixture of confusion and a strange sense of unease growing in the pit of his stomach.
Jareth Vex: Father? Where are we going? What are we going to become? All of this... is it worth it? Will it be any better?
His Father looked at his son, and in a voice, cold as steel, he answered.
Father: We are sailing towards a better future. Towards a new home, where we will no longer be prisoners, ruled by beasts. We are moving towards something new, something more. This island, this pathetic cage, is all we had been destined to, and we all know it. The world is cruel, and the only way to survive, is to become stronger, and better. Our family... they have chosen their path. We have chosen our own. There is no going back for us, we cannot falter.
He paused, his gaze hardening, his eyes fixed on a distant point at the endless sea, as if seeing something that was beyond their reality.
Father: And never, not even for a single second, consider returning to them, Jareth. Because I will not allow it. Not anymore. They were given chances. Many of them. They have chosen weakness, to be devoured as sheep. They have chosen to live like cattle, in fear, while praying that nothing will come to eat them alive. We are not sheep, my son. We are crocodiles now. Do you not understand the truth, Jareth? We have lived like this and the only result of Man's actions is despair, meaningless suffering and death. We cannot hope to live our lives without the power to make a true difference.
He then looked at his son, his expression softening, his tone becoming almost sad, almost mournful, tinged with an undercurrent of regret.
Father: We will no longer suffer. We will no longer be weak and vulnerable. We will no longer live in fear, and we will protect those we care about so they do not have to live like that. Our children will never know of this despair. And we must bring peace by making things right, even if it is done in the most brutal and violent of ways. It is a lesser evil, you see. Do you understand what I mean, my son? I cannot bear to see those that I care about, eaten alive by those mindless things, not anymore. All of my efforts... all of our efforts... were in vain. Everything that I did, everything we had ever done, was all for nothing. And so... I'm done with all of that.
Vex looked down at his hands, then back at his father. He swallowed, trying to push down the apprehension that was slowly growing inside him.
Jareth Vex: I... I understand. But if... if we are to change the world... then why can't our family join us? We could be stronger with them by our side. Why abandon those we love? We are family, after all.
His father looked at him, his yellow eyes glinting in a way that sent a shiver down the boy's spine.
Father: There is no strength in weakness, my son. Do not falter, do not hesitate. Because, in the end, only the strong will remain. And, as a family, we will be the strongest of them all.
With the departure of his father and brother, despair descended upon their community for the several months. The few remaining fishermen and farmers, those who had not been swayed by Jareth's promises of a new destiny, moved through their days in a domain of grief and bewilderment. The fields, once meticulously tended, became overgrown, their bounty left unharvested, as though even the land itself had succumbed to the prevailing gloom.
The once-bright homes were now shrouded in shadows, mirroring the darkness that had taken root within their hearts. The laughter of children was replaced by an eerie silence, only the sounds of sobbing and despair breaking through the heavy gloom. And amidst this desolation, his mother's spirit slowly faded, a chilling demise marked by a deep-seated sorrow, until the day when creatures of shadow descended tonight, their heartless gaze snuffing out lives one by one. As fire consumed their home.
Jareth Sid: Mother! What is happening?!
A Darkside descended upon the Plateau, its massive arm crushing the very bones of the dwelling, the roof of his mother's bedroom collapsing with the sickening crunch of shattered wood and broken stone. She, who was already weakened, was trapped within the debris.
Jareth Sid: Mother!
Amidst the inferno and chaos, Sid witnessed his brother, now a perverted embodiment of ruin, hoist their father's severed head high. A torrent of tears streamed down Vex's face, each drop mingling with the blood that coated the gruesome trophy as he let loose a high-pitched, uncontrolled cackle. His face was a mask of disturbing glee, stretched into a wide, unnatural smile that showed too many teeth, while his eyes were wide with a energy that seemed to be eating away at his very mind.
Jareth Vex: Look! Everyone! Look at what I have done! I have evolved! I have finally done it! Just like Father said! Can't you see?! I finally understand! And Father... he is watching me! He is so proud! This is what he always wanted! This... this is the beginning of it all! We did it! Finally...! We finally did it! We are free! We are gods now! HAHAHAHAAA! He is so proud of me! He is... he is here! And so I must show them all what true power is!
Vex then began to move, his feet kicking aside the debris with a strange, frantic energy as he moved through the burning settlement with jerky, erratic strides. He moved with an unbalanced gait, as if his own body was struggling to keep up with the wild, uncontrolled impulses of his mind, and he waved his father's head above, drawing attention to himself.
His followers mirrored his strange, almost inhuman glee as they moved alongside their leader with macabre joy, amidst the burning houses and the agonizing screams, their bodies covered in blood and ash. They laughed at the misery of their fellow villagers, at the sight of their bodies being devoured.
None of the Heartless, nor the Darkside were affected by this grotesque display. All, save for a single Shadow which ceased its attacks, its inky form drawn to the severed head as if by some unseen force. It moved closer, its shapeless mass shifting and swirling like a disturbed pool of oil, drawn by some dark gravitational pull.
Witnessing this unsettling display, the cultists began to murmur amongst themselves. Some of the more anxious among them reached for their axes, their hands gripping the wooden hafts, their eyes darting nervously between Jareth and the approaching Shadow.
Cultist 1: It... it is coming for him! Protect the Master!
Cultist 2: That creature! Why did it stop? Is it going to attack?!
Cultist 3: Ready your axes!
A few feet behind, the Shadow mirrored his movements as if they were attached by an invisible tether, its form shifting and twisting, as if it were attempting to mimic his every action. It moved without aggression, or any sign of violence, making no attempt to attack its young master, but moving alongside him, almost as if a loyal pet, a reflection that was attached to him in an unnatural bond. This display was a powerful symbol for the cult members.
Cultist 1: Look at it! The Shadow is following him! It is obeying the master! He has truly gained control! He is our saviour!
Cultist 2: He has surpassed all the limits! He has achieved what no others have managed to do before! He truly has the power!
The cult members cheered louder, raising their fists in salute to their leader. Some had blood and guts on them, and laughed with joy, as they started their victory dance, as they embraced the chaos that was slowly consuming them. This was the dawn of something new, something bigger, something better, they kept repeating in their mad delusion, a red dawn painted by the fires of their home.
Jareth Vex: We finally have Control! Control over everything! This is our victory! Look, everyone! Look, I have finally achieved it!
Vex's voice became a distant, distorted sound to Sid. The smoke and ash were thick, choking him, each breath a searing pain in his lungs. He struggled to stay conscious, his body pinned beneath a heavy, burning wooden beam that had fallen from the ceiling. He could feel the heat searing his skin, the smell of burning wood filling his senses as the world around him faded into a blurry haze.
He tried to call out, his voice a weak, pathetic croak that was quickly consumed by the inferno and the raging screams, his pleas lost in the cacophony of destruction. He shifted his body, every movement sending a fresh wave of agony through his body, and he tried to reach, his outstretched hand scraping uselessly against the burning beam.
Sid coughed again, his lungs burning, his head swimming with a mix of fear and despair as his eyes darted around. He looked for his mother, his heart wrenching with pain. He tried to lift the heavy wood above him, he tried and failed, the pain too much. His vision was beginning to darken, as he felt his consciousness slipping away. He tried to lift his arm once more, his fingernails scratching the burning wood, and he attempted one final cry for help before his world turned completely black.
Jareth Sid: Vex... brother... please... Mother... help...
His pleas were unheard. All the sounds around him began to fade, leaving him alone with the rising smoke and the suffocating heat. It was only when Vex and his followers, now a dark silhouette against the horizon of endless red, were finally out of sight that the sensation of a searing, all-consuming heat erupted in his left hand. It felt as if his very flesh was being torn apart as the energy expanded in his arm.
It was excruciating, unbearable, and yet, he clung to it, his last hope, his last chance at survival. The pain intensified, morphing into a searing, brilliant light that illuminated his face through the smoke and debris, an aura of pure energy pushing back against the darkness.
The searing energy surged through his body, forcing him back on his feet with an unnatural strength, fueled by adrenaline and desperation, the wooden beam above him was blasted aside by the sheer force of the shockwave, leaving him standing amidst the flames.
Wisdom chose him, gifting him with a power that felt both terrifying and exhilarating. His vision was blurred by tears, his lungs barely functioning, his mind clouded with fear, grief and rage, and yet, he began swinging blindly, each movement fueled by a desperate need to survive.
He lashed out at anything that moved, his movements erratic and wild, a whirlwind of furious energy and desperate swings that met with inky black bodies. The Shadows that got too close were met with raw, unrestrained force as the Keyblade cut through their forms with ease, a path of destruction and pain, leaving nothing more than fading shadows.
He leaped blindly, propelled by a desperate animalistic urge to escape, into a portal that had opened behind the broken walls of what remained of his house. A swirling mass of dark energy, a gateway to the unknown, offered the only exit he could see. He did not care where it lead. He did not want to die. He had to get away.
This desperation fueled his movements, he barely registered where he was going. In the end, it was nothing more than an animalistic desperation that dragged him through that gateway, a portal to another world—a strange magical world.
The swirling darkness spat him out onto the ground, and he landed heavily, his limbs aching, his head spinning. He looked around, blinking, trying to adjust to the sudden shift in environment. It was an endless corridor, leading upwards.
He paused to take a breath, his eyes darting around. It was so quiet, and almost... clean. This was a very tall and large tower made of bricks, and the stairway seemed to be unending. He slowly stood, and with small steps began his ascension. And finally, after what felt like an eternity of endless stairs he reached the top.
He looked around, his gaze frantically darting across the vast chamber, expecting to find those who had pulled him from the darkness, those who had rescued him from what should have been a gruesome end, his lungs gasping for air.
But confusion washed over him as he realized that the place was empty. The massive chamber was devoid of any sign of life, only echoes responding to the frantic beating of his heart. He moved slowly, cautiously, his senses on high alert, his feet dragging heavily as he navigated through the large office, his voice a broken, desperate cry in the unnerving silence.
Jareth Sid: Hello? Is anyone here?
His voice, a mere whisper, a desperate plea, was absorbed by the silence of the halls. A broken echo the only respon
Jareth Sid: Is there... is someone here? I... I am lost. Please... I... I need help...
His vision was blurred from the tears, and his mind was still in turmoil, and the Keyblade felt foreign in his hand. It was odd. So utterly and completely bizarre. What was it? He had never seen anything like that. It looked like a... a key?
A long, ornate key that could somehow cut through shadows, that could somehow grant a young boy power, an item that had, only minutes before, saved his life, or at the very least, prolonged it. He stared at it, turning it over in his hand, the sense of disbelief growing stronger, as the reality of his situation began to set in.
He was alone.
He was completely alone.
His family was gone.
He would never see his mother again.
He would never see his brother again.
He was all by himself, surrounded by nothing but dusty books, broken stone, and an odd key. And those thoughts made him feel like vomiting. He suddenly wanted to sit down, curl up on the floor, and simply cry until his body could no longer do so. But he could not afford to. Not now. Not ever again.
It was here, in this desolately vacant tower, that he began a new life. He had used the Keyblade and its power, not as a symbol of hope or salvation, but as a guiding light in the endless darkness, turning this lonely tower into his sanctuary, a library where he could seek refuge from his inner turmoil.
He spent years buried in his studies, his mind slowly absorbing the vast knowledge stored within the ancient walls, all the while ignoring the heavy weight that was crushing his heart, the pain slowly making him become a broken, bitter and hollow shell of his former self. It was not a happy, or noble existence.
He sought no guidance from Wisdom. It would be the act of a fool to do so. To believe that this cold, unyielding object could offer him solace, to believe that it held some connection to his lost world was a descent into madness. Those he loved, those he cherished, were gone, irretrievable, lost beyond the reach of any magic or power. He was alone, and he would always remain alone, a solitary figure trapped by his own circumstances. His heart had been shattered by the cruelty he had experienced and he felt as if his very own existence was meaningless and without purpose.
He was a student with no teacher, a child lost and adrift. He gazed down to the hilt and the silver key-like blade of Wisdom, and began speaking to it. His small trembling hands holding onto the weapon as if it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.
Jareth Sid: I... I wish... I wish I knew... I wish someone was here... to show me. Someone to guide me... I need to learn... I want to be better...
Silence.
The Keyblade offered no reply.
It did not, as was its very nature. A weapon is not a guide. A sword does not teach. And a key does not open a door of knowledge. Wisdom, by its very design, would never give him the answers he was desperately looking for.
No matter how long he remained isolated in that tower, no matter how many ancient, dusty tomes he meticulously read, crafted in the workshop, no matter how many useless spells he endlessly practiced, no matter how many crude constructs he animated, he could never escape his past. He could never silence the endless echo of his mother's scream.
The faces of those he had failed, haunted him. Their screams, followed him everywhere. Their deaths weighed upon him. He failed his community, he failed his family, and he even failed his own pathetic self.
Any flicker of white or yellow, the colors of his brother's hair would send him spiraling back into the abyss of his memories, and his own shame and guilt. He was afraid to step outside of the tower, terrified of the unseen threats that might lurk in the outside world. His new sanctuary, this library of knowledge, had become a prison of his own making. He slowly became distant to the world outside, isolating himself, finding a sense of safety in the silence and solitude, as his loneliness became his constant companion.
His mind had fractured under the weight of his guilt and his past. The countless books he had read, the numerous spells he practiced, had began to warp his perception of reality. He created a new identity, a new persona, his own personal version of the truth. And he began to believe it. He was not Jareth Sid anymore. The naive boy, so terrified of the darkness. The one who had failed to protect his family. That boy had died back on that burning Plateau.
And this new man that he had become was far better, far more powerful, far more special! He was someone new entirely. He was the one who saved himself. He was... the chosen one!
One day, he stood in the office of his tower, his figure adorned in a newly crafted blue robe, its fabric shimmering with a faint, ethereal light. A oddly shaped blue hat, its brim casting a long shadow over his face, perched atop his head, adding to the theatrical nature of his proclamation.
He had fashioned these garments himself, a new uniform for his new self. He surveyed the empty chamber, he raised his right hand, a single finger pointing upwards, as if to address an invisible audience of his followers, his voice resonating through the silent halls as he finally declared upon his stone golems, crude constructs of wood and stone animated by his magic, stood still, their vacant, glowing eyes fixed on him, their presence as his silent and loyal subjects.
He started with a soft voice before rising it louder.
J̵̼̇é̸͕n̷͖̔s̸̤̄í̸̻r̶͉͠ë̵͔́t̷̰̉h̴͇̆: The world has known me as Jareth. A weak, pathetic human. But that boy is no more, and from the ashes of his weakness, has risen a new force, a new being entirely! That pathetic excuse for a man no longer defines me, for today... today I am reborn!
He paused for a moment, closing his eyes as he basked in his own grandeur, as he pulled his chest forward and puffed up. His gaze, when he opened them again, held a terrifying intensity as a small smile grew on his lips.
Yen-Sid: I am Yen-Sid! The Almighty Sorcerer! And let all living beings, regardless of whether they hold a Keyblade or not, tremble before my might! For I have seen the truth, the great and terrible truth of the universe! I have been chosen! I am unique! I have been gifted a power beyond the realm of mortal comprehension! And with it, I shall bring order, I shall bring peace, to this chaotic world!
He paused for a moment, and then continued in a quieter tone
Yen-Sid: And I shall... I shall ensure that no one suffers as I did! I shall do what I failed to do all those years ago! I will protect those who need it! I will be... the best! I will be... a god!
He then looked around at his Golems, his new subordinates, with a satisfied smile.
Yen-Sid: Isn't that right, my loyal servants? All will know the might Yen-Sid, the one who will bring peace to all! Tell me, what do you say?
The Golems remained silent, their faces unchanged, their eyes still focused on their master. He let out a small chuckle.
Yen-Sid: Of course! No need for words! Your silence... It speaks volumes of loyalty. You are the best! You, my subjects, truly understand the depth of my power, do you not? You alone among the many recognize my true greatness! And together! Together, we will finally build a better world! I promise you! We will!
He raised his chin, and puffed his chest out further, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of delusion and a genuine desire to believe in the charade that he had created for himself.
The 'almighty sorcerer,' a title born not from humility, but from a desperate need to believe in his own superiority, a grandiose label masking the fragility of his shattered psyche. He had built this charade not to hide his cowardice, but to convince himself that he was above it, that he had transcended his past.
His self-imposed isolation, his library of forbidden knowledge, had become tools to feed his own ego, creating a world where he was the ultimate authority, the undisputed master, a world built on the foundation of lies he told himself every single day.
He was not a prisoner of his past. No. He was merely choosing to stay here, in the safety of his creation, away from the pathetic chaos outside, because that is where he belonged. He did not need to escape his memories, because they did not affect him. His mistakes were not mistakes, but rather choices that had led him to his current greatness. The shame he felt was not shame, but rather a reminder of how far he had climbed, how much better he had become, how much stronger he was compared to everyone else.
For he had lived a life guided by a firm belief in his own exceptionalism, not fear. The world was not a cruel game of survival, but rather a stage for his greatness, where he was destined to be the protagonist.
The strong were not those who survived, but those who bent the world to their will, and in his mind, he had done so. He had become better, he had found the answers to the many secrets of the universe, he was finally in control. Not broken, not lost, he was perfect, and everything that he had built was proof of his power. He was not chasing the illusion of control, he was control made manifest. He was the allmighty sorcerer, and everything around him would bow in reverence.
Snapping back to the present, his body shaked, his breath uneven. Sweat was running down his face as he clutched his mother's skull, his father's departure, his mother's depression, her death, the image of his brother holding his father's head, all of it combined into a force of nature, a feeling that threatens to crush him into dust.
Jareth Vex: I have been waiting for you all this time, brother!
Vex spread his arms wide with a rising voice teetering on the edge of hysteria.
Jareth Vex: I have been here, patiently waiting, always! I believed you had perished, which is precisely why I crafted this grave—a symbol of my fraternal affection! Because, after all that has transpired, we are still family, are we not? I could even facilitate the return of our mother, and father too! We could be a family again! Isn't that simply amazi-
Sid's features contorted in disgust. The audacity of it, the gall of this monster to speak of familial bonds after all he had done. After reducing their home to ash and their mother to dust. To use that word, that sacred tie, after all this time, it was an unbearable insult, a deliberate affront that made his blood boil. The lingering fear and anxiety that had been clawing at his insides were now replaced by a white-hot rage.
Jareth Sid: Family?! If that were the case, you wouldn't have descended into madness because of Father's lies! What was it? You swinging his head around like some barbaric trophy? Why didn't you put out the fire and save Mother first? You! You who were were too immersed in your own degeneracy! Neither Mother, nor Father, would condone what we've becomes! Is that truly the future Father's wanted? For our children, for those of many, you say?
Vex's face contorted, his teeth clenched, his eyes wide. He let out a high-pitched scream, his voice a grating assault.
Jareth Vex: LIES! It was her choice! Not mine! She have chosen to be weak! She have chosen to follow the light, to live in hope and prayer, and look where it got her! I am just helping you, so you do not repeat that cycle! All you have to do is accept that your past is just a burden, nothing more! It was our destiny! We are family! We were always meant to rule toge-
Before his brother could utter another word, both Wisdom and Enlightenment moved through the air with a frightening speed, dancing erratically before striking Vex from above. They cut through his body like scissors, slicing from his shoulder to his lower torso with brutal force.
Vex shrieked in pain, a high-pitched, agonizing sound as his blood splattered onto the ashen ground, a dark, heavy rain that contrasted with the pallid hues of the surrounding landscape. His body crumbled, the separate parts collapsing in a gruesome heap before his figure dissolved into a mass of dark particles that faded quickly away.
His voice, growing weaker, a broken, almost childlike whisper that sent a cold wave down the young sorcerer's spine.
Jareth Vex: You... you fool... You...
Jareth Sid: Enough! Just stop talking!
Jareth Vex: ...You truly believed I cheated Death?
Jareth Sid: Why... Why won't you just die?!
Jareth Vex: Has your memory truly failed you? Brother?
Jareth Sid: I'm done! I'm done listening to this!
Jareth Vex: Because dear Blizzard... He had already broken me. My heart. It is not beating anymore, I assure you...
He ran towards his fallen brother's particles, both hands raised with the Keyblades above him, wanting to crush his skull and destroy any part of him that remained, for as long as it will be in his sight, an unberable sting.
Jareth Sid: Just die already, you wretched, vile creature!
Cease this pathetic display! There is nothing left to destroy, and you are only allowing yourself to be further manipulated. Why do you continue to seek solace in pointless violence, a tool of the weak? Have you fallen so low as to abandon reason, the only trait that elevates you beyond the common horde?
Such senseless aggression serves no purpose but to expose your inherent flaws and further undermine your goals. You speak of control, of precision, yet you act with the unrestrained impulsiveness of a common brute. Recapture your composure, engage your intellect and address the situation strategically. You will gain nothing through rage.
You are... or at least, you should be far more refined. Perfect and superior, remember your chosen path. For in perfection, lies true peace and liberation. This madness, these displays of emotion... they are nothing more than an old habit. One that is threatening to destroy everything that you had tried so hard to accomplish.
There is a storm approaching. So prepare yourself. Quickly, for we are out of time.
Jareth Sid: What... what is happening...?
Sid lowered his hands, his face a mixture of confusion and a growing sense of dread as he tried to process the situation. His mind raced, desperately trying to piece together the fragments of what had transpired as all hope was now slipping away from his trembling fingers.
Jareth Vex: Oh, you are so fucked... You were so sure of your own superiority! You had to lash out! As if you were anything other than an insecure child desperate to be heard. Ha!
His features shifted, a disturbing transformation as his form continued to decay, his mouth twisting into a mockery of a smile. His yellow eyes, growing dim, but still mocking and cruel.
Jareth Vex: And oh! I must return. The king may has gifted me life. But now that my duty has been fulfilled, it is only right that it should be taken from me. It is the natural order of things now, after all. Oh, how I wish I still had hands. I would give you a slow, resounding applause for the display that you have provided!
His voice became a distorted rasp, a mix of mockery and an unhinged glee.
Jareth Vex: Truly a memorable performance! But alas, it matters not. With this... oh so valuable display of your blatant incompetence and naked insecurity. The King will reward my service with a new vessel, I know he will! After all, what is one Nightmare in the grand scheme of it all?
With a final, gurgled chuckle, the remaining dark particles swirled toward Sid, then with a terrifying speed they coalesced behind him. A concussive shockwave erupted, a powerful force that slammed into his back, sending him hurtling forward.
The impact sent his body spiraling against the ashen ground. The dust and ash around him were kicked up as he slammed against the earth, obscuring his sight. A massive distortion was taking place behind him, the ground, where he was standing, warping and buckling, and the plateau's familiar geography beginning to reshape itself, the very fabric of reality folding and changing.
The ashen grass stirred, moving in chaotic, erratic patterns, forming funnels of dust that spun like miniature storms. The charred remnants of his old dwelling groaned, and cracked, the wooden planks contorting and twisting as if seeking to escape the area.
Crimson and violet, darkened as if an immense shroud was being cast, the colors shifting into a swirling, chaotic arrangement of muted hues. An immense pressure bore down on him, a heavy weight that crushed him from all sides, and he felt his bones grinding under the impossible pressure.
All sound was abruptly cut off.
He could no longer hear the rustling of the ashen grass, or the gentle lapping of waves against the distant shores. The only sound that reached his ears was the ragged, uneven rhythm of his own breathing, amplified in the sudden silence. His senses were being assaulted on all sides, an unnerving and unnatural feeling that grew more and more terrifying as seconds passed by.
An immense pressure bore down on him, a weight that was beyond anything he had ever felt, crushing him from all sides. It felt as though an invisible fist was clenching around his neck. His mind struggled, trying to make sense of the escalating nightmare, but reason itself was fading, leaving behind only raw terror.
Dreamscape Sovereign: The stench is... foul. It stinks with the blood of sinners.
His head snapped back, and he saw something descending behind him with crushing force. A violent clank erupted as he barely managed to raise Wisdom and Enlightenment in time to deflect the blow, the impact sending a shockwave of pure force throughout his body, leaving him numb, as though something had pierced his flesh nontheless.
He rolled violently across the gritty ashen soil, pushing his trembling hands beneath him as he tried to regain his footing. His vision blurred, his lungs burning with each ragged breath as he struggled to draw air. He tried to gather himself, focusing through the haze of adrenaline and fear as he fixed his gaze on the being before him.
Dreamscape Sovereign: That coup was always intended to be your end. Why resist, when fate has already decided for you? Accept your execution and be done with it, you worthless parasite.
Sid could only stare, his mind numb with shock and horror. He registered no weapons. The being had no weapons, its hands empty. So, what was it that had just collided with his Keyblades? The thing within this armor, this entity... what exactly was it? The force behind its movements, the pressure it exuded, was beyond the natural world, his very senses were on high alert.
He was barely able to string a coherent thought together. This being... could this creature be responsible for creating this dream? Was this the 'master' that the nightmare mentioned?
Dreamscape Sovereign: Some may say that the mind of the Keyblade Wielder is safe in the realm of Dreams, immune from all intrusion. But those same fools forget that here, within the depths of Dreams, only two hold any kind of authority. The King and his Knight. The Keyblade is a tool, yes, but when wielded with such unrestrained and naked emotion... it becomes a key, unlocking not only your desires but also your vulnerabilities.
He raised a large, plated gauntlet, extending the forearm in a gesture that was similar to a drawn sword. His large, imposing metal hand now looked like the hilt of a blade, a subtle yet terrifying hint at the level of his power, as his shoulder guards twitched as though eager to strike.
Dreamscape Sovereign: Rather, it allows me to see you, hear you, bind you.
And with an unnerving casualness, the being lowered his left arm in a swift, almost languid motion, like a painter applying a final, fatal brushstroke to a canvas, despite the distance between them, a good seven meters.
Sid felt the very air around him compress, the pressure escalating suddenly, as if a physical weight had descended upon his body. It was an invisible, intangible force, yet it tore through him as if it were made of iron. A guttural scream ripped itself from his throat, a sound of pure, unfiltered agony as blood began to erupt from everywhere.
Jareth Sid: AAAHHHG! WHAT IS THIS...?!
He was unable to parry, unable to dodge, unable to even react as the unseen attack ripped through his very flesh, as if a vertical, boiling blade had sliced through his entire chest, separating bone and tissue with cold, merciless precision. He had been sliced and shredded without any contact. He could only feel the burning pain, the deep throb as his mind struggled to comprehend the unbelievable force that had assaulted his senses. His body was screaming in protest, every nerve sending out signals of agony as his organs were slowly tearing themselves apart.
His legs buckled beneath him, and he rolled backward, tumbling across the uneven terrain, leaving a trail of his own blood on the ashen ground as he writhed in pain. His vision swam with dizziness, the world around him a blur of grotesque colors as he desperately tried to grasp at what had just happened.
The burning sensation was too much, and he knew that this attack was not natural, it was beyond anything he had ever experienced before. He struggled to move, his limbs feeling heavy as lead, his body unwilling to respond to the commands of his mind. He knew, beyond any trace of doubt, that he was near death.
With a groan, he pushed himself up with trembling hands, focusing all of his mental power to create a glowing ball of healing energy. He pressed it against his chest, and immediately, a searing cold sensation ran through him.
The intense pain began to dull slightly, but was replaced by an uncomfortable pins-and-needles feeling in all of his limbs, as if his veins were suddenly filled with ice water. He coughed, spitting out blood, as his breathing slowly returned to a somewhat normal pace. He felt his wounds closing, the torn flesh slowly mending, the bleeding finally ceasing, but leaving behind a burning, throbbing ache.
A slight tilt of the head was the only indication of a reaction to such spell from the being, as a mixture of disbelief and annoyance seemed to briefly flicker in his otherwise impassive stare.
Sid struggled, his body screaming for rest, he slowly raised his head, his eyes scanning his surroundings for any sign of his aggressor, and his gaze settled on a jagged, tearing wound that had appeared in the sky. A fractured gateway, a jagged rip, a portal. And he now knew, with growing unease, where that being had emerged from. He pushed himself back up, drawing Wisdom and Enlightenment in front of him, and began channeling his magic, ignoring the agonizing pain that was still coursing through his veins.
He needed to escape, to distance himself from that thing, to assess the situation, and find a way to overcome the impossible power that stood before him. He was in way over his head. And he had to survive.
With a guttural yell, he unleashed all of his magic, his feet pushing off the ground as he propelled himself upward, cutting through the air, towards the fractured sky. He moved with a surprising speed, driven by fear and a frantic need to escape, yet a bone-chilling dread settled in his gut as he realised that his attempts were for naught. The Sovereign was already behind him, hanging still in the air, as though he was standing on an invisible floor.
Sid roared once more, channeling a significant amount of energy through his Keyblades as he unleashed a major Fire spell. A massive torrent of flames erupted forward, a blinding wall of searing heat, forming a thick cloud of smoke, as he quickly reversed the spell's energy, the recoil propelling him further upwards, towards the portal, the opening to the realm from which that monster had come from.
Dreamscape Sovereign: I have already spoken once.
His voice reverberated through the air, a low, almost bored drone, apathetic, and strangely calm despite what was happening.
Dreamscape Sovereign: It matters little whether I can physically see you or not.
Before Sid could react, before he could even turn around, another unseen force slammed into him with violence sufficient to rupture his organs, the impact a deafening, bone-jarring tremor resonating throughout his body. He was incapable of forming a coherent thought, of drawing breath, pain raw and consuming engulfed his senses.
His body was a toy, crushed between the implacable palms of a titan. His chest imploded, sternum and ribs splintering as his very core trembled under the brutal assault. His entire body spasmed in agony, pain tearing through his being, every nerve screaming, breath violently expelled in a spasm. Bones shattered, muscles tore, organs ruptured under impossible weight, blood vessels exploded, a torrent of dark blood staining the ashen ground.
His heart, his very essence, a pink heart, began to phase out of his chest, its familiar rhythm fading to a distant whisper. His vision was consumed by a blinding white light encroaching from the edges of his sight.
Seconds away from death.
Sid moved his only functioning limb, the last vestige of his will directing his right hand toward his chest. He felt a cold, greasy sensation as his fingers pushed against the surface of his phasing heart, flesh unable to grasp it. With a last surge of energy, he forced the heart back inside, it slammed against his sternum, a sickening crunch making him gag as blood poured into his throat. The blinding white light receded slowly.
He had failed to parry, deflect, or dodge. He had failed at everything. But at the very least, he did not die. He remained alive, yet he was barely himself anymore, his senses fractured and his very being destabilized.
He had activated Last Chance.
He lost control of his limbs. They became heavy, useless burdens dragging at him as he began to feel an odd sensation. His very being was fluctuating wildly, and he could no longer feel the world around him. The sensation was like being suspended in an endless void, where up and down had lost all meaning, a terrifying lack of gravity tearing at his senses.
The world became a nonsensical soup of abstract and shapeless colors as his eyes failed to process what they were seeing, the shapes and forms blurring together into an indistinct mess of nothingness. His hearing was no better, and he was subjected to a cacophony of distorted, unidentifiable sounds, making it impossible to distinguish one noise from another. And then his very sense of touch, the feeling of his clothes against his skin, had all faded away.
He could no longer feel anything at all.
Jareth Sid: This... this is... wonderful! Hahahaha! The boundaries... they are all gone! All these senses, these pathetic little things that bind us to the physical world! Gone! HAHAHAHA! Finally! Finally, they are gone! I am becoming something more! I am transcending... I am beyond this! I AM FREE!
This effects was as terrifying as it was unexplainable. He knew, somewhere at the back of his mind, that he had used something that should not exist. A last-ditch survival mechanism he did not know he possessed. He knew, somehow, that it would not last. It was a temporary reprieve, bought at a terrible price.
He was propelled, thrown like a ragdoll through the air towards the portal, his fingers numb as he lost his grip on the Keyblades. They fell away from him, tumbling through the air, as he spiralled out of sight, and out of reach, of the Sovereign.
For now.
The Sovereign remained suspended in the air for a brief moment, watching as the wielder was violently hurled back from where he had come from, certain, with absolute certainty, that his foe's very essence, the pathetic meat bag, should had been completely destroyed from that single move alone. However, his knowledge of this realm was absolute, and those parasites, for reasons that he failed to comprehend, not to be underestimated.
He descended to the plateau with graceful ease, the ground trembling slightly beneath him, before extending his arm once more.
Dreamscape Sovereign: To think you could escape.
He paused, as his cold gaze scanned the area before lifting his eyes to look through the still shimmering portal.
Dreamscape Sovereign: It seems as if you managed to save yourself from death with a trick, some odd technique. It is... curious. Keyblade wielders should not possess anything so beneficial. It was not meant for you, filthy things that you are.