Kingdom Hearts 1. Prologue: Denial of Peace

Pre-Story Notes: As the summary indicates, this story takes place halfway between Birth By Sleep and the first Kingdom Hearts. Characters both familiar and new will appear over the course of the plot, some from Disney, some from Square-Enix, and as per the usual in these things, a little more than a handful of original creations (OCs). Some worlds explored in later installments are shown their past in greater detail, though early spoilers won't be given here. Character similarities (OCs to Canons, specifically) may be apparent to some readers, but I will state that, for the most part, these are intentional. I apologize in advance if anything here seems similar (or even identical) to any stories out there, which may happen given the sheer number of Kingdom Hearts stories out there in the depths of the internet, especially on sites like this one alone!

Pointing out ANY plot holes and/or inconsistencies is greatly welcomed and appreciated, as I want the narrative to flow as smoothly and with as few problems as possible, and it gives me reason to go back and edit. Please give constructive criticism if there is anything that you feel can be reasonably changed, and for the sake of civility, don't post comments that are hurtful or offensive for the sake of upsetting others.

As a final note, transitions and breaks are formatted to look something like this, so that you can better follow the flow: -**Break**-

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These are used to separate the notes from the story, as the document editor seems to not cooperate much with spacing or use of multiple repeating symbols, for whatever reason.

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**Prologue: Denial of Peace  
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Darkness. All around, it seemed to be infinite in scope. And yet, despite seeing nothing but inky blackness in every direction, the figure that tumbled through its depths could make out its own form as plain as day. It was a young man, with wavy, medium-length ebony hair, fair skin tanned by sunlight, and light grey eyes. His face was a tad rounded, with his jawline, nose, and lips the typical size and shape for a mid-teenager. His height was a little greater than that compared to the average for those his age, and while his build was certainly solid when all things were considered, it was not bulky or cumbersome. In fact, he appeared more around the norm when wearing his usual clothes. He was garbed in a pair of black sweatpants held together by a monochrome drawstring, a steel grey shirt that was complimented by a ghostly white mantle, its hood pinned over the boy's head due to the speed of the fall, and a pair of brown steel toe boots and white socks protected his feet. His hands were covered by a set of black gloves that were made to fit snugly and allow very little hindrance to any task that required manual dexterity.

Though he knew he was falling, the boy felt no sensation of wind whipping in his face, and his gut lacked the sensation of turning over itself that one normally gets from such an experience. He wondered to himself if what he was going through was even real, or if he was in another one of those strange dreams he had been having lately. He could not remember when he had actually started falling, and thus had not the faintest clue to how long it had persisted. It may have been seconds, minutes, or even possibly hours; he was not sure. He did realize, though, that he was not picking up speed or decreasing in velocity as he dropped. So, by that logic, he had to have been dreaming. But, if that was true, then he would have awakened from the shock of recognizing he was asleep, and no matter how much his mind seemed to urge him to jolt awake, it did not occur. What did happen, however, was something that the young man had only experienced once before, and he could have sworn it was only in a dream.

Below the youth, a great pillar came into his vision, the top of it decorated in what appeared to be stained glass. And as his form approached it, he noticed that his fall abruptly slowed, allowing his body enough time to right itself, as though his feet were guided by some sort of force other than gravity. His descent reduced in speed until he was almost floating towards his destination, his boots touching down upon the pillar with a gentle clap as he finally landed. When he looked around, changes began to creep into his vision.

The darkness surrounding the place cleared up ever so slightly, appearing now as more of a thick and black fog with the barest hints of light shining through choice patches. Turning his eyes down, the young man was surprised at the pattern he saw on the surface. Four keys, each of a different shape, were arranged in such a way that they formed a cross when joined at the tips, and the ornate colors around them seemed to be neither overly vibrant nor too shaded. In the ends of each handle were circles, one white, one black, one grey, and one that seemed to reflect every color perceptible to the human eye at once.

Most disconcerting to the youth was the fact that even though the surface was clearly made of a non-reflective material, he could see himself in it, and it looked all wrong to him. His reflection seemed to confer an idea of how he would appear if all of his colors were inverted, if his appearance were more disheveled, and if his eyes expressed a sense of wildness as opposed to the serene calm he was used to seeing. But, though the likeness had suddenly appeared, it slowly dissolved until there was nothing more to glean from the surface except for the image engraved upon it, and maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him, but the boy could have sworn that he saw his twisted reflection smile darkly at him when he had made no such expression himself.

Shaking off his head to clear the unease he felt, the young man paced around the edge of the pillar, attempting to see if there was anything else that he had not noticed before. The sides of the platform were also decorated in a similar manner to the top, though only small lines spaced apart every so often were evident, the rest being obsidian black. Peering over the edge, he noticed that the darkness continued down indefinitely, the depths just as murky and mixed as the horizons around.

(It would seem the time for you to awaken further is fast approaching), a voice called out to him, seeming to echo from within his mind.

With a start, the youth turned himself about, trying to find where it had come from, but seeing no one else present. He had reasoned that perhaps he had imagined it and that it was simply his mind playing tricks on him. And yet, the mysterious voice had seemed much too audible for it to be just an auditory hallucination. Maybe, it did belong to something else, but that something had elected to remain unnoticed.

(No reason and no means to be hidden), it said more loudly than before in response to the boy's ruminations, (the presence you feel is all around you, encompassing every one of your senses, attached to your very being. It is worrying that you do not remember this place, seeing as you have visited before).

Now, the youth was more than certain he was not imagining things. What it had claimed was more than a little unusual, however. "I don't understand what you mean by that," The boy replied confusedly, his head swiveling from side to side to try and discern the disembodied voice's location, "If you're a part of me and my senses, and are everywhere about me…then what, pray tell, are you supposed to be? And where am I exactly? If I had been here before, I would think that I would remember it!"

(The solution to the former two of those inquiries is one and the same), it stated ambiguously, (you are a smart child. You will come to recall what that answer is, but only once you have decided which of three traits you value the most and the least, and have come to face what awaits you further within. What choices you had made before will be overwritten by any that you make here, assuming they turn out differently).

With those words, three white marble pedestals rose from the ground, each half the height of the youth. For a moment, they seemed to hold nothing, but then, light shined forth from just above their peaks, revealing objects that seemed to float of their own volition, turning over themselves in the air. One was a staff with a deep green shaft, yellow highlights on either ends below the head, which itself was a strange blue symbol composed of three circles, two of which were mounted on top of the center one in a fashion like ears. Another was a shield of black, with a red rim and an equally crimson emblem on its front identical to the one on the staff. And the last was a sword with a blue handle, yellow hilt and end, with yet again the same sign as the other two weapons featured on the hilt just below its long, silvery blade.

The young man strode up to the latter of the three and gently took hold of the handle of the sword, looking it over and giving it a calculated appraisal, along with a few experimental swings. "'The power of the warrior,'" he spoke involuntarily, the words flowing from his mouth as though they were destined to come forth, "'formidable strength, fearsome potential. Might that heralds both salvation and disaster for both its users and those around them.'"

So much had come to pass for him to consider turning to such devastating potency, but he hesitated only because of the sound of this power being a double-edged sword. Even if it could give him the ability to save others, what manner of misfortune was it capable of bringing if he used it irresponsibly? For the moment, the boy laid the weapon back on the pedestal, watching as it returned to its prior position and carried on floating as though it had not been disturbed. There were still two others he could consider to be his greatest strength or weakness, and so he next made his way over to the stand that held the shield. He gripped the sides of it with one arm and guided it over his other so that he fit through the straps on the back, his free hand taking hold of the second band. It was large enough to protect him from a weapon blow, but the coverage in terms of area was not very great.

"'The power of the guardian,'" came that same automated flow from before, "'Mighty defense, morbid isolation. Protection offered to repel both forces that would do one ill, and those that would seek to aid one in need.'"

Here was yet another item that would provide him with both a helpful and harmful power. Was an impenetrable guard worth becoming lonesome over? He was certain of the answer to such a question, and he replied with confidence. "If you can hear me, oh voice from all directions, I have made my decision. Though it may seem foolish to some, I choose to give up the power of the guardian, because such power was not afforded to me before, and it can grant me no satisfying ends to reach at this point."

In response to his words, the shield vanished from his arm, dissipating into small particles of light that drifted away before blinking into nothingness. That only left the staff and the sword to choose as his advantage, and the former was all that was left that he had not yet examined. Wasting no time, he strode up to its respective pedestal and took it in both hands, rolling it around in his fingers to get a feel for its weight. For something that seemed more top-heavy due to the design on its tip, it felt rather light overall, given its lengthy size.

Once more, he felt the urge to speak of the weapon. "'The power of the mystic. Inexhaustible magic, incomprehensible foreboding. Arcane might that can weave spells both of creation and destruction, simultaneously placating and promoting fear."

The youth shook his head and returned the staff to its resting place, a bit daunted by the dual nature of the things he was learning of the objects before him. He knew that the way of the sword was more familiar to him, and yet, he could not deny his curiosity at trying his hand at the art of magic. Perhaps, he reasoned, if he were to go with what he was more certain he could control, then it would be easier to maintain responsible use of such power. Each moment that passed served to reinforce what he deemed to be the logical choice, and he found himself striding once more towards the sword. An initial moment of hesitation came to him when he reached out for the blade, momentarily pulling his hand back. His conviction won out, however, and he grasped the hilt in his right hand, lifting the weapon high into the air.

"Let the power of the warrior be my greatest strength, then," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper, "I've made up my mind."

The sword did not disappear, as he had expected. Instead, it remained in his grip, no lighter or heavier than when he picked it up. The staff behind him disappeared the same way as the shield had, and the pedestals that held the three items tiled off to one side, before slowly sinking into the stained glass surface of the pillar. In the center of the platform, a white light shot forth, forming an ovular gateway that shined with a silvery glow. Without being prompted to move forward, the young man stepped through, brightness enveloping him and his vision. Rather than falling or feeling as though he was being pulled apart, the boy was surprised to find it seeming as though he kept walking forward, blinded as he was by the light. What seemed to him like dozens of minutes was really only a few, before he emerged from the other side of what he assumed was a portal.

The location was not much different than where he had been. It was still a tall pillar covered in stained glass, but the mural depicted was markedly different. It was one of the keys that had been in the previous image, its single notable tooth shaped like a reaping scythe's curved blade. The entirety of the object was a mixture of black and red, with a gem inlaid near the head bearing a ruby-like appearance, almost giving the key the appearance of having an eye. At the bottom of the great picture was a single word: "Executioner". Giving it a second glance and getting a better look at it, the boy discerned that the key seemed more like a weapon than something one would use to open a lock, seeing as there was a handle in the bottom ring below the main body, similar to the hilt on his sword. And within that guard was yet more ebony, perhaps to let the red handle be strongly contrasted and visible.

Off to one side, he saw another pillar in the distance, and beyond that were yet two more, numerous steps composed of the same material suspended in mid-air connecting them all. The young man began the lengthy climb towards the next station, keeping his wits about him and his weapon at the ready. Halfway to the pillar, a shadow emerged from the floor of one of the steps, directly barring the youth's path. It had a short and somewhat stubby body, with undefined feet and claw-like fingers, a rounded head that was topped by two short antennas, with only a pair of glowing yellow eyes on its face. The boy's grip on the blade tightened as he took in the sight of the creature, his teeth clenching in a mixture of both anger and anxiety. A flood of memories came rushing to him from the depths of his mind, each one fueling him further with dread, rage, and grief.

"Heartless," he growled lowly, readying the sword in his hand, "your kind has caused me and those around me much sorrow. But, I would be wasting my breath trying to reason with beings of pure instinct, creatures little better than clever beasts."

The shadow lunged at the boy, ready to swipe with its sharpened digits, but the young man was faster, bringing up his weapon in an arch to cut off the creature. As the blade passed through its body, the being of darkness disappeared in wisps of black smoke, which soon dissipated entirely, leaving nothing behind. The youth was not given long to savor his victory, however, as his ears picked up the sounds of more movement coming from behind him. Peering over his shoulders, he noticed more of the same creatures closing in on him from the rear, lumbering in an almost comical fashion. Nothing was humorous about his predicament, though, and he started to run towards the next great pillar before him. He knew it would be more advantageous to fight them in a larger area, as the steps were too narrow to maneuver while in combat because of the risk of tumbling over the side.

Just as he reached his destination, he saw more shadows spring up from the surface, turning his head both ways. There were soon at least a dozen of the things surrounding him in one broad circle. A few of them flattened against the floor of the station and scurried around, remaining out of reach of his weapon, while others leapt forth. Jumping from his position, he brought his blade in an upward swing to meet the first foe, taking the handle with his other hand so that both arms swung his body counterclockwise, slicing through another two. He brought the sword downward with a powerful slam and cleaved yet another creature as he returned to the ground, flipping his blade back and stabbing behind him, luckily striking at yet one more. He switched to his left hand while spinning around to face the opposite direction, his diagonal arc cutting across a pair that had attempted to lunge at his back. Another step and he completed another overhead strike to a foe that had sprung back up from the surface just in time to be another victim to his blade. Dragging the edge across the ground for a moment, he performed a full circular swing, eliminating the remaining four shadows.

The boy's grip on his weapon began to relax after no more came to harass him, but he kept it close to him just in case. Drawing in a deep breath to calm himself, his eyes turned down to the mural upon the pillar, noticing that it differed from the last one. Although it shared the similarity that it was one of the keys depicted in the original picture he had found upon entering the realm, it more closely resembled a wizard's staff in design, its shaft white, the tip adorned with a spherical black crystal, and it sported very small, silvery teeth near the top to show that it was indeed a key. It possessed a more circular guard around its handle, though the mural lacked any color in the space, just like it had in the picture of the four keys forming a cross. Just like the prior image, this one also bore a single word beneath it, which the boy identified as "Warrant". It seemed peculiar to him, as he was not sure as to which context it was being used, especially if it had to do with the weapon itself.

The young man noticed that he still had a ways to go, though, when he spied the next set of steps that led towards his destination. Keeping the sword close, he resumed his trek, looking behind him occasionally to see if there were any more creatures tailing him. The fact that they had even appeared in this place was enough cause for worry. A good number of years in his life had been spent preparing to fight against their ilk, so he had been unpleasantly surprised when the time to test his skills had come sooner than expected, and with a weapon that was not his own. Still, the question of where he really was persisted in his mind. He had been no closer to answering it than when he had arrived, and the voice he had spoken to initially had not addressed him for quite some time. Or so it seemed, at least, he was unable to perceive just how much time had passed since he came to this place.

Partly lost in his musings, he came to the next pillar without trouble. The weapon on this mural had a steel grey shaft, with a pale blue guard near the handle, and teeth on both sides of the body, giving it the notion it was a sort of skeleton key. The background within the guard was a brilliant white, and a faint azure outline of a shield could be seen around the frame of the image. Its caption was both to the point and appropriate: "Defense". The youth had to admit to himself that it was quite a stunning blade, unable to help but feel a strange comfort as he gazed upon the mural at his feet.

But, he realized that his little walk was not over yet as his gaze turned to the final pillar and the flight of stained glass stairs that connected to it. Right as he took one step, however, the ground began to shake under him. He looked back to where he had entered and gasped as he saw the first station start to collapse into the darkness below, the steps leading from it to the second starting to crack and fall away. The boy gritted his teeth and broke into a sprint, not daring to look back as he made a mad dash towards his ultimate destination. Another loud rumble came to his ears, his pace picking up to its fastest as it was followed by the sound of glass fragmenting. He was not sure if he could make it given the rate at which things were falling apart behind him, and even if he did reach the final station, there was no guarantee it would remain standing. Still, he believed it best to not give up on the possibility that it would be safe, and so, he allowed his legs to keep on carrying him.

The young man nearly tripped as yet another quake rocked the area around him, knowing that it had reached the pillar he had just come from. The sound of shattering drew closer with each pounding of his feet against the steps, taking the time to skip one or two with an occasional bound. Even so, he could sense that the rate at which he was ascending the stairs was not as quick as the pace with which they were crumbling. Only a handful of steps away from the station, he dug his heels in and leaped with all his might, letting out a yell as he watched the stairs below and in front of him dissolve, throwing the sword out towards the platform. It clattered and skid across the surface until it came to rest mere feet from the other edge, the young man shutting his eyes tight.

After a moment or two hurtling through the air, his feet touched down upon the pillar, though he took a tumble, his body rolling and crashing against the hard surface. Groaning in some pain, he sat up and stretched his arms out to make sure no serious damage had been done, before rubbing at the back of his head to ease the dull aching that came from the fall. Gently, he got to his feet and gave his legs a few experimental movements, finding nothing to be broken or sprained, but he was a tad sore. With a grunt, he walked over to retrieve his sword, noticing how eerily silent the air around him had suddenly become. The platform underneath was completely still as well, though as he bent down to pick up the blade, a cold shiver ran down his back. He quickly gripped the handle and whirled about, but found nothing waiting for him. In fact, there was now nothing else aside from the area he stood on and him, the steps having vanished entirely along with the other pillars. It was almost exactly as it was in the first place he had entered.

The design on the pillar was markedly different, however. This key's teeth were merged into a single blunt shape that resembled the end of a hammer. The design was featured on both sides, however, and so it more closely reminded the boy of a gavel. The entirety of the weapon was a sunset copper in color, with the exception of the handle guard, which was a light gold that brought to mind the color of the horizon at dawn. The background behind the handle was a perfect metallic grey, serving as what the youth could describe only as a wonderful contrast against the other two colors. What shook him most deeply, and reaffirmed his belief that it was based on a gavel in design, was the moniker displayed underneath the key, near the base of the image: "Judge". It resonated to him in a way that the other murals did not, even though it was just as much a part of the initial picture as the rest. And why had this particular pillar not crumbled while the others had?

(So, child), came the disembodied voice once more, (have you yet discerned the true nature of this place)?

The boy stroked his chin thoughtfully, pondering on the question and the events that had occurred up to this point. "It seems like a place that is within a dream."

(You are somewhat correct), the phantom tone replied, (It is as you said, but its effects reach out into reality. What happens to you here, such as the pain you experience, is in fact afflicting you in the waking world. Yet, this realm is not part of the real world, and just as dreams are each unique to the people that have them, so too, is this realm shaped by what is in your mind and your heart).

The young man was somewhat conflicted by this answer. On one hand, what he had gone through did seem very real, the pain included. But on the other, it seemed a shoddy explanation to him, especially given that there was no proof such a realm existed, and even if it did, he had no idea how he had come to arrive.

(You have appeared in this place because it is time for you to call upon another measure of its power), the voice said, once again reading into his thoughts, (One cannot fight the tides of harmfulness without the true strength of the heart, after all).

The youth looked up towards the darkness around him, a look of recognition evident on his features. "So then, this realm is my heart? Although my recollection is hazy…it does have a sense of familiarity about it."

(Yes, you are starting to remember. But, before you can obtain another fraction of its might as your own, you must pass one more trial. You must, for the time being, quell the other half of your very existence).

From the other side of the circle, a pool of shadows formed on the surface of the pillar. From it came a familiar form, the twisted reflection that he had observed earlier, now in a physical state. Its skin was dark, hair as white as clouds, and the eyes were composed of black sclera, golden irises and pasty pupils. Its clothing, aside from the shoes and gloves, matched the young man's own garb as well, though they were entirely white. It held an opposite-colored sword in its left hand that otherwise matched the one the boy had. With a grin, it gave a few threatening swings before letting the blade fall to his side, taking steps forward to approach the young man.

"So, you are the darkness within me," the latter said, keeping his own weapon at the ready while the hairs on his neck stood up and his skin started to become riddled with goosebumps.

His eyes narrowed as he attempted to make the being in front of him feel just as vulnerable as he did in that moment. It did not slow in its advance, however, giving its sword a twirl and letting the handle roll along its grip, remaining silent otherwise. The youth scowled and backed away slowly in reaction to the gesture, irritated from not being answered and for being intimidated in such a manner while his shadow stayed unafraid. Deciding to take the initiative, he brought his sword in an overhead arc down against the reflection, but was shocked to find that it mirrored his precise strategy, and as a result, blocked his attack. He pushed against the force of the other blade, but found that neither he nor the being could budge in this contest of strength. Each of them jumped back and readied for another assault, their movements in sync as they once more clashed blades, sparks flying off from the impact. The boy belted out a battle cry as he slashed incessantly, combining the various swings and movements he had used before against the shadow creatures.

Each time, though, he found the twisted mockery of him mimicking his attacks and repelling them as their weapons came into contact. Though he realized he should not be surprised at a reflection acting like it should, he knew that it was not a mere likeness. It had intent, and he found that he had to imitate its own occasional proactive strikes just to keep from being harmed. He was not sure how long he would be able to keep up the pace, deciding to go on the defensive for a bit to see if it would make any difference. Unfortunately, he discovered that he was using just as much energy to protect himself as he did while he was on the offensive.

The boy attempted to pull away from the danger zone by trying to dodge the attacks, but the other being would turn its sword at the last moment to compensate for the change in direction, not losing any momentum and forcing the boy to bring his own blade up to stave off the reflection's assault. Using this opportunity, he pushed forward and charged with his shoulder, relieved when he finally landed a hit, forcing the dark lookalike to take a step backward. He followed up with another sweep from his blade, catching the other across the chest with the tip and tearing into the fabric of his shirt. "So your guard isn't entirely impenetrable," the young man mumbled, raising his sword up and over his shoulder. A thin smile crossed his lips, the revelation having helped him to regain some confidence. "Let me be the judge of your resistance to this, then!"

As he swung his blade in a diagonal motion, it transformed before his eyes in a flash of light, taking on the appearance of the very key below him on the mural. Its blunted teeth smashed into the side of the reflection and sent it tumbling, its blade clattering noisily against the surface of the pillar. As it moved to stand, the boy rushed forth and used the momentum to bring the weapon into an upward-bound strike, the impact making the figure reel. It quickly regained its balanced after springing off of one hand, however, and the blade it lost returned to its hand in a flare of darkness. The young man hesitated in continuing his attack when he saw that it had now taken on a negative likeness to his own weapon, the reflection grinning deviously. It did not delay in resuming the fight, leaping forth and bringing the shaft of the key down where the boy was. He jumped away just in time, watching wide-eyed as a wide area of the ground cracked and buckled under the sheer force of the slam.

It was more than evident now that the reflection of himself was no longer simply reacting to his own assault, but rather, attacking completely of its own volition. It came after him with inhuman speed, its legs a near blur as it once again lunged forward, slicing in an upward diagonal arc, followed by a full turning slash and a downward strike, all of which the youth barely managed to avoid. He countered with his own combination of blows, but all it succeeded in doing was pushing the being back a few steps. It smirked at its opponent's seemingly futile effort, moving to ball its free hand into a fist and attempting to punch at his gut, though it was redirected by the boy's own open hand, which summarily delivered a fierce uppercut that made the reflection stagger backward.

The young man pinned its blade down against the surface of the pillar and kicked out with one foot, causing the dark image to fall back against the floor and continue to tumble. He watched as it impacted the edge of the platform and careened off the side, vanishing into the bleak darkness below. He let his weapon drop to his side and he panted a bit as he took in what seemed a victory, wiping his brow in satisfaction.

(Certainly impressive), the voice said with a genuinely complimentary tone, (but you should not consider this the last conflict, as you have merely suppressed the shadow within yourself. It cannot be destroyed so easily, and you must remain vigilant to prevent it from overtaking you).

The boy nodded solemnly and took a moment to glean his impression of the weapon he now held. "The darkness of my heart seemed ill-prepared to handle my Keyblade's power, but I have a feeling it won't be caught so unawares when it next rears its head."

(A wise observation and consideration for caution), the disembodied tone replied, (your darkness is fueled by negative emotions and by your own strength. The mightier the light shines within you, the deeper the shadow it will cast. As you grow more powerful, so will your other side. Before you can move on to the next trial, however, you must return to the waking world and take the first of many steps towards the destiny that awaits you).

And just as those last words were spoken, the boy found his vision growing dark. Sounds became more muted as he noticed even the noise of his own breathing starting to fade out, his strength fading out. Feeling faint, he fell forward, his weapon dissipated into sparks of light, and everything went black just before he hit the ground.

-**Awaken**-

The mid morning light was hard on the young man's eyes as they opened suddenly, bringing up his forearm to partially shield his vision. Looking around, he realized that he was currently sitting up in bed.. The room he was in had midnight blue walls and was furnished with a dark wood dresser for clothes as well as a black metallic desk with a monitor and keyboard in the center for a computer in the lower cabinet. A few nick knacks were placed here and there on the former, and a number of posters and pictures dotted the walls. It was the picturesque place for a boy in the modern day, and one that helped him to relax after his sudden awakening. With his wits about him fully now, the boy recalled that it was not actually the first time that such a vision had come to him while he had been at rest. Since it was past, however, he took in a breath of relief, stepping out of bed to get himself freshened up for the morning. After a routine wash, he put on a set of clothing identical to what he had been wearing in his dream, though he kept the hood of the mantle down since he had no need of it for protection from the elements. Flashing himself a smile in the mirror in an attempt to lift his spirits, he made his way to the bedroom door and stepped out. He noticed the room across from him was also open, and his ears picked up the soft sound of footfalls against carpet, a figure coming to its entrance.

In the opposite doorway stood a boy of similar age, with caramel brown hair that was a bit more on the wild side of style than his own, slightly more tanned skin, and hazel eyes peering back at his light grey orbs. Like the black-haired youth, his face and its features were mostly average when compared to other young men his age. He sported a plain black t-shirt and blue jeans held up by a brown leather belt. His feet were clad in a pair of blue and grey running shoes, and he wore a pair of fingerless red gloves on his hands. He was almost the same height as the other young man, and his body had a nearly identical build. And upon seeing the other boy, his expression turned bright and he gave a friendly smile and a wave. "Good morning, Viscus," he greeted cheerfully, though subsequently failing to stifle a yawn, "did you sleep well last night?"

"Unfortunately, I didn't, Verité," the black-haired youth said glumly, covering his mouth to hide his mimicking of his friend's prior action.

Verité's amiable demeanor turned to one of concern at his friend's response. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Were you having dreams about...well, you-know-what again?"

"No, not this time," the other young man answered, letting out a weary sigh upon hearing such a topic being brought up, "I went through something startlingly similar to an Awakening. The confusing part is that I have no idea why it happened, nor how it came about."

The brown-haired boy cocked his head to one side and rested his cheek against his shoulder, scratching his chin in contemplation. "Hmm, Sir Gulbrand said that most Keyblade users only experience such a thing if they are awakening or are in some sort of great peril," he explained, "From the looks of it, I'd say the latter is out, and considering we both have had our Keyblades for quite some time, the former can't be true either."

"There has to have been at least one person before who's experienced this," Viscus said, "anyway, we can bring it up to him when we visit with him in a little bit. For the moment, I just want to get the day started and freshen up a little bit first. You go on ahead and tell your mom we're getting our breakfast to go while I check up on something before I hit the shower."

While the lighter-haired boy nodded to him and proceeded to go downstairs, Viscus returned his attention to his room for the moment and strolled over to the dresser across from his bed. He looked down at the photo he kept there, before reaching forward to lift it closer and run his other hand over it endearingly. The picture was of his parents with him between them as a young child, with another older boy kneeling down on the ground with his hands on young Viscus' legs so that the small kid could perch on his shoulders, each of them wearing an expression of joy. It had been from his mother that he had inherited his dark hair and the softer features of his body. And it had been from his father that Viscus had gained his muscular structure and his rather uncommonly colored eyes. As much as he wanted to smile back at the portrait of his parents and his brother, Viscus could not prompt his facial muscles to do so. Another thought lingered in his mind as he reflected on the image, his eyes turning towards the calendar he kept on the wall behind the dresser. A series of slashes were struck through the days that had gone by, with tomorrow's date circled and two more identically marked days that followed it. Within the border he had drawn around that time, he read the words "Invasion of Darkness".

He remembered how, eight years ago tomorrow, his world had been invaded by a horde of the creatures of shadow known as Heartless. Their numbers were not nearly as great as he had heard regarding stories of others worlds nowadays, but considering it had occurred in a time where they would only appear when summoned by a master of darkness, it had been quite the formidable force. Viscus and Verité had been little more than children back then, so they had been unable to do more than run from the Heartless. Such a painful recollection triggered an increased grip around his family photo, the young man remembering how they had been hounded by the creatures, and that they had taken up arms to protect him. But the Heartless are almost impervious to conventional weapons, and so the couple had been unable to keep the shadows at bay for very long.

Still, he could hear their screams as the creatures literally stole their hearts, and how, as a result, they were consumed by the darkness. Any person or world that had experienced this same fate was inevitably swallowed by the tides of shadow. But before it could happen to his own planet, and to him, Viscus had been saved by the efforts of two Keyblade Masters, one of which was the very person that had gone on to become his now former Master, Gulbrand Aequitas. The warrior and his ally had cut a path through the Heartless that ended in the banishment of all remaining Heartless and the death of the person that had summoned them. Despite their best efforts, however, there were many that had not been saved that day.

Verité had been more fortunate, as his family had survived the onslaught. And they had sympathized with Viscus' plight, taking him under their wing and adopting him into their home, treating him as a second son. For Viscus, it was something he appreciated now more than when he had first been accepted into their home, and he thanked whatever powers out there for it. Certainly, he felt that he would never be able to refer to Verité's parents as though they were his own, but he could see them as part of an extended family, at the least.

Gulbrand, he had been told, had felt a sense of responsibility for the people he had helped, and had been more than a little surprised when the two children asked to study under him as apprentices. Initially, he had refused, but the stubbornness and determination of the boys eventually swayed his opinion, albeit Viscus recalled he had been very reluctant to accept them. With his guidance, they were relentlessly tested and trained nearly every day since then, and only recently had they managed to obtain their own Keyblades. And with that having been done, Gulbrand had given them one last trial to prove their worth as wielders of their weapons, something that Masters referred to as a Mark of Mastery. Their strength, skills, and the control of their hearts had been tested, and they were judged not only by their own Master, but by his friend and peer, Julius Veneficus, as well. In the end, both of them had passed and were accepted into the fold as equals, though the boys still called their old teacher "Sir Gulbrand" by force of habit.

Of all the things that now came to Viscus after having put it in the back of his mind for years, he found himself wondering what had ever happened to his brother. Not long after the picture he held was taken, which had been four years before the invasion by the Heartless, his elder sibling had gone missing after wandering into the forest near the cul-de-sac. His parents had been utterly distraught by his disappearance, and the search for him had gone on until the day of the Heartless invasion. Though as time had passed, the possibility of finding the boy had grown increasingly slim and spirits began to eventually falter. After the attack had been circumvented, the efforts to locate Viscus' other relative were called off, as many assumed that he too had fallen to darkness somewhere in the world, and the rest believed him to have possibly died before then. Over time, he had come to believe that they were most likely right, but it was a shame, he thought, that he never really got to know his brother.

Coming back to the present, Viscus set the photo back down on the top of his dresser and closed the door to his bathroom as he settled in for a shower. As he allowed himself to be washed clean of the previous night's grime, the thoughts of last night's vision flowed through his mind once more. If anyone knew their significance, he was sure that it would be Gulbrand. And the more he considered it, the more that it nagged him in the back of his head. Before he knew it, he was shutting off the water and drying himself off, using a dryer provided for him by Mrs. Capto, Verité's mother, to speed up the process for his hair. After throwing on a clean change of clothing exactly the same as what he had discarded earlier, and taking the time to straighten out his wavy locks, he descended the stairs so that he could join up with Verité. The other young man had been waiting at the bottom for him, holding what looked to be a couple of breakfast sandwiches in each hand. With a smirk, he tossed one to Viscus, who deftly caught it with a sideways swipe, looking it over a moment before taking a bite. The second was delivered to the young man in a more delicate manner, simply being handed over.

"Mom whipped them up for us since I told her we were going out," Verité said while chewing into one of his own sandwiches unceremoniously, his voice partly muffled by the food. His friend shot him a lightly disgusted look at his manners, causing him to cover his mouth and laugh a little bit at the expression, swallowing before speaking again. "So, still wanna just take a stroll to get that stuff off your mind? Or do you think maybe it's too important to table for now?"

Viscus smiled at his friend's question, pondering it for a moment as he continued to eat, making sure his mouth was clear before speaking again. "Hmm, well, waiting on it would just make me think about it even more, so it may be better to get answers sooner than later. Alright then, brother, let's go and see if Sir Gulbrand knows anything about what happened with me."

"Sounds like a plan!" the other teenager exclaimed, his infectious smile helping to brighten his friend's own expression.

The two finished up their morning meal in haste, and Verité then called to his mother that they were leaving before going out the front and closing the door behind them. They each gave a contented sigh as they took in the sight of a typical suburban neighborhood bathed in the light of a warm sun. Despite all that had happened those many years ago, the tranquil nature and serene appearance of their home still brought them fair comfort. As the two walked down the sidewalk, they waved to acquaintances and other friends along the way, occasionally stopping to give them the time of day and engage in some small talk. The two boys exchanged quips and tidbits with each other as well, and made plans for what they would do later in the day after their visit with their former Master. Both came to agree that a stop by the local diner for lunch would not be a bad idea.

Viscus also decided to use this time to go into detail about his vision, the clarity from being awake with his hunger satisfied allowing him to better identify aspects that his unconscious mind had not been initially aware of. The Keyblades he had seen on the mosaics aside from his own belonged to Verité, Gulbrand, and Julius, though he was unsure what the significance was of the mural that depicted them in a cross shape. It also bothered him that all of the pillars except for the one that depicted his weapon had collapsed, wondering if it was meant to be interpreted as some sort of omen. And then there was the matter of his negative reflection, though Verité seemed to come to the same conclusion as him about its nature: that it was a manifestation of the darkness within Viscus' heart. How it seemed to be so powerful was another matter entirely, one that puzzled the pair considering that great strength without reliance upon the shadow was needed in the sort of Masters that Gulbrand molded and allowed to pass the Mark of Mastery exam.

After discussing the subject for a good while, they found themselves in the middle of the woods near their cul-de-sac, coming up on a lone cabin in the center of a clearing. It was built from simple brown wood and sported a white stone chimney on one of its short sides. It had but one door, and only a handful of single-pane windows, each of which was covered by dark horizontal blinds. The boys knew it to be Gulbrand's residence, as the Master was not one who liked to involve himself in the affairs of the nearby community, and so lived a relatively isolated life out in the forest close to them. There were times where he had made himself known, if only to ease the concerned citizens and make it clear that he meant no harm in putting the young men through their tests. Still, the people were wary of the existence and the residence of such a powerful warrior, and most of them would be more suspicious of the man if it weren't for the deeds he had done in the past.

The two boys came up to the front porch, dusting off their shoes and kicking the balls of their feet against the wood to knock loose the dirt that had gotten stuck between the grooves on the bottom, out of respect for preparing to enter their former master's home. Viscus leaned forward and knocked clearly on the door a few times, folding his arms as he moved back to wait. In short order, the pair picked up the telltale sound of footsteps moving swiftly towards them from the other side. A loud click came the moment the knob started to turn, the door swinging inward. A tall and well-toned man entered the center of the door frame, his short blond hair just barely long enough to be combed, and his piercing green eyes looking down at the young men with an air of appraisal. He was dressed in a khaki overcoat and a pair of black slacks, but his hands were bare, as opposed to the boys', while his feet were covered by a pair of deep brown combat boots. His frown, evident at his displeasure from being disturbed, shifted to a more neutral and stoic expression upon recognizing the two boys before him.

"Double V," he grunted in acknowledgement, addressing them by his personal nickname for their pairing as a team, "Here for another sparring session, I take it?"

Verité chuckled a little bit and shook his head as he held up a hand. "No, Sir Gulbrand. At least, we don't want to right at this moment."

The Master nodded curtly and turned to Viscus, who cleared his throat and met the stern gaze of his former mentor. "There was something I needed to speak with you about," the young man said, "I was hoping you may be able to make sense of it, as I'm neither sure of its significance nor what it means for me."

Gulbrand stepped back from the entrance and motioned one hand a couple of times towards himself, signaling to the boys that they were good to come in. They took the invitation, their old teacher closing the door behind them and showing them to the sofa in the living area while he took a seat in his recliner. It was a homey interior, with the various commodities of a modern house spread around, each corner set up to serve as one part of the whole. It was also very open, the entire cabin divided into only this room, a tapestry split down the center covering the entrance to the bedroom, and one other door that led to the bathroom.

After sitting down, Viscus started to recap the events of his vision in the most vivid detail he could muster. The fall into darkness, the appearance of the station and the voice of his heart prompting him to choose the objects were all nearly identical to his first Awakening, Gulbrand had deduced. The crumbling of the other pillars aside from Viscus' own was markedly different, however, as they had simply up and disappeared in the original version of the event. The most glaring disparity, however, had to be the likeness of the darkness within the boy's heart, which, aside from being composed of the same matter, was nothing like its first representation in either appearance or behavior. The fact that its own weapon had transformed into an inverted form of Viscus' Keyblade was even more of a mystery. But the boy made sure to add that he had defeated it in order to assuage any anxiety Gulbrand may have had, though the comment made little difference, if his mentor's darkened face was any indication.

Gulbrand breathed a heavy sigh and shut his eyes for a moment, rubbing his temple as he contemplated his former apprentice's story. "The old texts I've kept make rare mention of this sort of thing," he explained in a low, but still audible tone, "It's not uncommon for wielders to be able to dive into their heart both before and after their first Awakening, but this isn't quite the same. Typically, a second Awakening, upon its successful completion, confers the unlocking of greater potential in the heart. In some, this manifests as the ability to wield a second Keyblade without one being granted from another warrior. In others, it enhances a warrior's capabilities to a greater upper limitation, such as gaining access to vastly more powerful magic they would otherwise be unable to use or learn, or increasing their physical prowess even further beyond their natural limitations. At least a couple of sources state that it can instead serve to help the heart acclimate to greater concentrations of energy, becoming more accepting of light or more resistant to the effects of darkness, or vice versa, in the case of those whose inclinations follow the other path.

"Not that I can vouch for any of those in my own experience," he continued, opening his eyes as he rested his chin on one hand, "Nobody I know now, nor anyone I knew in the past ever went through one, myself included. So, if you're telling me the truth, Viscus, you're the first person I've met that has. And as for what exactly this entails for you, I honestly can't say unless your heart decides to reveal it."

Viscus nodded as he absorbed what he had been told, putting some thought into what exactly the trial he went through did for him. He did not gain access to a second Keyblade, nor did his arcane potential feel any stronger than it did before the occurrence. As far as he could tell, his heart was the same in its inclinations towards light and darkness as it was following his first Awakening, or at least, from a physical standpoint. Internally, he began to think over what he had been told before to see if perhaps he could find a clue. After more than a few moments of silence to ponder, though, he was beginning to conclude that it would take more than speculation to notice any changes. Before Viscus was allowed too much to himself, however, Verité moved the topic of discussion in a different direction, most likely due to the intense expression he saw on his friend's face.

"Well, not to be rude and interrupt Vic's thoughts," the brown-haired boy said, earning him a glare from the other teen, "but I had something I wanted to ask you as well, Sir Gulbrand."

The tall, blond man turned his gaze to his other former pupil and cocked his head quizzically to one side. "Hmm? What is it?"

"It's about that place that we went to once a year, back when we were still your apprentices," Verité began, giving his inquiry some ground before getting into the meat of it, "You know, the campsite that we stayed at in the mountains during summer breaks, always on the anniversary of the invasion of the Heartless. I figured that it must hold some significance, even if it's just for you, if you made it the one 'weekend' spot for us to get away from civilization and rough the elements. I'd be surprised if Viscus hasn't thought about it as well, but let me ask you anyway. What's so important about that place?"

Viscus had been ready to give his friend a tongue lashing before the question to Gulbrand had been posed. Now that it was in his mind, the darker-haired youth acknowledged that his friend was correct in assuming he was curious about that very same thing, but he had personally never pushed for an answer. He thought the relatively small mountain range just an hour outside of the town, and how it had been peculiar that, for a period during the three days of the invasion, that Heartless both went to and came from that area in droves. And how, even years after the event had ended, one particular section of the woods near the central peak had been rendered barren, and nothing had since grown at that spot. It was there that they had spent each and every annual camping trip, always on the date of the invasion and always for the whole duration. And it also had been that their training while out in the wilderness was even tougher, with the basic rigors of outdoor survival added to their already difficult regimen.

The silvery-eyed boy recalled that, on a few occasions when he had woken up during the night to relieve himself, he had found Gulbrand keeping watch, but with his gaze halfway between the woods and the solid rocky wall of the mountainside. The way his eyes would dart from one to the other and sometimes fixate on the latter would have given onlookers the suspicion that the Master was paranoid. Viscus (and he suspected Verité had also witnessed it) had stolen a small glance one night and could have sworn that he had seen what looked to be a door in the side of the rocky face. If that particular location was not so important, than Gulbrand would not have bothered to drag them out to that specific spot during what was one of the most difficult times of the year for both of the children. As important as it was for him to figure out what exactly his second Awakening had bestowed upon him, Viscus felt that this opportunity would be foolish to pass up. Just like his best friend beside him, he wanted some answers, for this mystery as well as others.

A heavy sigh came from Gulbrand, the man sitting up more attentively and crossing his arms as he looked over his former students. "There are more than a couple reasons for why I had us visit that place every time this date rolled around," he stated just loud enough to hear, "the first and probably most important being that that side of the mountain holds the door to the heart of Voluntas. You both became able to see and interact with it when you experienced your rather unorthodox Awakenings. As I've hammered into your brains time and again, worlds have hearts just as people do, and if they're consumed by darkness, then entire worlds fall into the shadow, along with anyone not strong enough to break free through will and strength of heart. Anyway, the second reason is that it was where Julius and I fought against the Master of Darkness that summoned the Heartless to this world. That patch of land where plants haven't grown since then is the scar our violent battle left behind.

"Third, it was where I made a vow in Julius' presence that I would stay and help this world to recover from its trauma," he resumed, the barest hint of a smile crossing his lips, "And while I didn't expect to take on an apprentice until I was older than I am now, you two just wouldn't leave me alone about wanting me to train you. If I recall correctly, I officially took you boys on as students at that very spot. And to think, it'll have been a year since Julius and I named you both Masters, again at that campsite. So yeah, it's got some real significance, both on a personal level, and on a level concerning your whole world. At the moment, the door is locked tight but is not forever sealed, so it is still in danger of being opened by those who would drown us in darkness. Fortunately, as things stand, the Heartless cannot force their way in without somebody clearing the way first. However, as I am not one who believes any one place is truly a sanctuary of safety, I feel it is now my duty to watch over that place more frequently, now that the two of you have come into your own as Masters."

Verité folded his arms and hummed softly as he digested the information, having had some of his suspicions put to rest. "Thank you for taking the time to tell us this, Sir Gulbrand," he commented appreciatively, "and for being honest about what it was that we saw."

"And even though I'm not much closer to finding out what this second Awakening exactly means for me," Viscus added, "you have my thanks for at least telling me that it is not unheard of and for providing me with any information at all. However...there is another matter that I feel you've been neglecting to talk to us about, though I'm partly at fault for not bringing it up sooner when I've had a few chances to ask."

Gulbrand shifted his eyes back towards the dark-haired boy and gazed at him with a serious expression. "Hmm, I imagine you're talking about the Rite of Blood?" he asked grimly, focusing on his former student intensely.

Viscus nodded slowly, the look in his old mentor's eyes intimidating him, but one would not be able to tell from his face and his posture. He had heard Gulbrand mention something by that name in the past few visits to his home, but the older man had always trailed off and dropped the subject, claiming that sparring and working on improving technique were more important tasks than discussing "ancient customs", as he had put it. Verité brought up asking their Master about it more than once, but to Viscus, the timing had never felt right. Today, however, especially after what had happened the previous night, the teenage boy wanted to know what it was that Gulbrand had been so hesitant to address.

"I guess you were gonna hear about it one way or another," the blond man said with a shrug, letting out an exasperated sigh as he relented to his former pupil's curiosity, "It's not something discussed often, even among Masters, but since you're both technically now my peers, you have the right to know. The Rite of Blood is a method of power transfer that was devised by our specific order of Keyblade Knights sometime after its foundation, which was, as far as accounts are concerned, long after the restructuring of the World after the Keyblade War's end. When a Keyblade Master or a wielder of sufficient strength of heart is on the verge of death, if another user happens to be within their proximity, then the dying can use the last of their strength to give that person their Keyblade as well as their abilities. However, the transference will only go through if the proper incantation is spoken while the two are in physical contact. It's been a closely guarded secret of our order since the technique's inception, though it hasn't been used for several generations, due to the questionable nature of putting it into practice and the potential for abusing it to gain immense power. If I were to perform the Rite on Verité, for instance, and then he did so on you, Viscus, then you'd receive both our weapons and all of our abilities, even ones that're known only to us. Your senses would be sharpened and you'd be much more mentally disciplined and experienced, but your actual physical strength wouldn't change unless you were using more than one Keyblade simultaneously. We can only imagine what might happen if such a thing were used for nefarious purposes. Nonetheless, it's custom to pass it on to future Masters on the off-chance that a situation that's truly dire enough to warrant using it may come about."

Each of the two young men exchanged a grim look, their minds processing the possibility of being able to use something like that. Their discomfort also came from imagining what kind of desperate scenario would prompt them to put it into practice. They had been taught that while Keyblade wielders were a cut above the rest in terms of strength, and that Masters were a level all on their own, there existed powerful beings other than just the Heartless and darkly-inclined Masters. The fact that Gulbrand spoke of them with a heavy air when asked, and his comment that the Rite of Blood was preserved just in case, made them realize that he was teaching them to always be wary of what they encountered. The universe was a vast and ambiguous place, after all, and no one could say for sure what the upper limit of power in individuals could be.

"There is another, somewhat related ability," the Master added, partly hoping to break the silence of his former pupils and partly because it was something that he felt needed to be mentioned, "but I'm a little foggy on the details and I wasn't instructed in its use, so I can't pass it on even if I wanted to. If you two are curious, then perhaps you can ask Julius about it the next time we see him. That's it on the Rite, though, not really much more to it than that. You two may be Masters, but I'm not too keen on giving teenagers knowledge of such a technique."

He then grinned in amusement. "I'd be more comfortable waiting until you two were older and less emotionally charged."

The boys chuckled at his comment, as truthful as it was, moving to get up and stretch their legs. Verité reached into one pocket and pulled out his cell phone to quickly check the time, perking a brow at the realization of how long they had been there. He flashed the screen to Viscus, who glanced over and nodded to his friend. It was now past noon and the two had earlier discussed their intention to head out and grab lunch around this time. While the lighter-haired youth was just about ready to run out the door, Viscus halted him for a moment while he retrieved his munny pouch from his left pocket.

"I'd like to treat him to lunch, Verité," he said back to his friend, counting the currency within before returning his attention to his old mentor, "That is, if you don't mind, S...Gulbrand. Think of it as us starting to pay you back for all the free meals you provided us when we were training with you."

Gulbrand blinked a few times as he processed what he just heard, before a jovial grin swept over his face and he let out a small bout of hearty laughter. "Viscus, even when you drop the honorific for me, you're still too polite. But hey, if you insist on buying me lunch, I don't think I can reasonably refuse that, although it's going to take more than just one outing to repay me for all the food I gave you."

The trio summarily left the cabin, with the eldest of them making sure to lock up behind him before they continued onward. They were just about to reach the boundary of the forest when Verité caught sight of something in the corner of his eye. A small dark shape with a thin body, glowing yellow eyes and a pair of antennae was moving flat along the ground, its pace comparable to that of a man at full sprint. In an instant, the young man leapt towards the figure and summoned the same skeleton key-like weapon that Viscus had seen in his previous night's dream, bringing it down just as the creature gained more definition. The once two-dimensional thing exploded in a wisp of dark smoke before fading out completely, leaving no trace that it had ever been there. Though the immediate threat had been extinguished, Verité knew what he had seen boded ill for them. And his fears were confirmed as he looked further ahead and spotted yet more of the shadowy creatures shuffling through the brush.

Gulbrand swiveled about on his feet and turned towards the direction of the nearby mountain range, his own scythe-shaped Keyblade materializing in his left hand. "Boys, listen very carefully to me," he ordered, his tone darker than the young men had ever heard it, "The one scenario we've been preparing ourselves for years for may finally be upon us. I want the both of you to head back to your home and start gathering people for evacuation, just in case things start going south. Meanwhile, I'll head to the door of the world's heart and stave off anything that heads that way. Only come after me once everyone else is safe and loaded up into the ship."

-**Hurry**-

With reluctance, Viscus and Verité broke into a run back down the path they had used to come to the clearing, while Gulbrand hurriedly took off towards his destination, the woods around him blurring slightly due to his pace. He trusted the pair of teens to do as he said, but part of him insisted that he was tackling this ordeal alone because that was his way of lifting responsibility from their shoulders. It was he who had sworn before his best friend that he would do anything in his power to protect this world, and so he felt that it was his obligation to its denizens that he combat any threat to it. Sure, the boys were ready for a fight, but too often had Gulbrand seen young Masters rush to their deaths because of the swelled heads they had gained from receiving that title.

Several minutes at full sprint passed before he finally came upon the slopes of the closest mountain in the range near his home. With agility that was inhumanly great, he bounded across a good amount of the incline until he reached the other side, rushing down until he came to the next peak's base and summarily repeating the process. Gulbrand continued this course of action until he came to his destination, coming to a stop at the rock face that held the door. Nothing had disturbed it since last he had checked up on it, his Keyblade confirming to him with its gentle glow that it was still locked. He scanned the area around and was somewhat puzzled to find no Heartless even remotely close to this location.

_Perhaps I beat them here_, he thought initially, but then he shook his head in dismissal at such an idea, _No. Nowadays, the Heartless are known to appear in almost any place instantly. The fact that there aren't any around means that they can't locate the heart of the world. The door is still locked, just as I left it, so they can't get inside even if they found it._

Despite these factors in place, Gulbrand could not shake the feeling that something was up. It was certainly possible that the Heartless might be more likely to go after the next largest source of light aside from the world's heart, and that was the hearts of many people. Yet, as much as he feared for Viscus and Verité, there was another troubling thought that came to mind. The previous attack had been set up by a Keyblade Master that had steered his talents towards darkness rather than light, and it was known that one who possessed sufficient control over such a power could summon Heartless into the Realm of Light. The presence of such creatures, even if he had only seen one so far, was indicative to Gulbrand that there was another such person attempting to overtake Voluntas in the same way that the previous threat had tried.

His senses on high alert, the Master turned his attention towards the woods near the mountainside, looking for any signs of movement other than the wildlife. Suddenly, a ball of black flame erupted from between the trees and hurtled towards him, but he readily brought up his weapon and deflected it to the side, the fiery orb impacting the stony cliff and leaving behind nothing more than a charred spot. Pointing the top of his Keyblade towards the forest, Gulbrand brought his other hand close to his chest, balling it into a fist to show that whatever it was that attacked him that he was not one to be trifled with.

"And here I was, thinking that it wouldn't be too much trouble to take care of someone who licks the boots of his almighty Light," came a mocking but clearly masculine voice from the trees, "At least it will be more entertaining a struggle than I had originally calculated."

From the edge of clearing came a figure that was garbed entirely in a grey trench coat with a prominent hood and long sleeves. It had a large golden zipper along its front and a pair of black drawstrings decorated with large golden beads hanging from the ends. The being appeared to be wearing white gloves and boots, the latter of which were barely visible under the hem of the coat. Expecting to see a face under the hood, Gulbrand instead spotted a plain bleached mask, devoid of any sorts of markings save for holes for the nose and eyes, which gleamed a menacing, almost feral amber orange. It was clear from the edges of the mask that it was fastened by strings around the person's face, so as to keep it from flying off in the event of sudden movements. It could not be more evident to Gulbrand that this person did not want to be identified, though the muffled voice did seem strangely familiar.

"You're the one who summoned the Heartless," the Master said as the mysterious figure approached him, "it really couldn't be any more obvious, given the way you dress and that tone you took with me. Something about you bugs me, though, and it's not the previous two things. I might just be asking a question you won't bother answering...but have we met?"

The masked person slowly halted in his tracks at the question, raising one arm and pointing it in Gulbrand's direction to challenge the Keyblade directed at him. "I was more expecting a 'who are you' sort of inquiry," the man stated forwardly, his voice holding a tinge of intrigue at the other fellow's reaction, "but just to give you a little closure before I send you off to meet your departed master, the answer is no. You and I have never personally met until this point, but I did know of you before now."

Gulbrand ignored what he believed were attempts to confuse him, not hesitating to leap forward and slash at the figure, grunting as he found his blade stopped by one that had suddenly appeared in his opponent's hand. Calling it a Keyblade would be accurate, but given its shape, even that was a little far-fetched. The weapon was long and coppery to the point it almost seemed rust-colored, possessing a dark and jagged handle guard, a serrated body, and a three-pronged head that was heavily reminiscent of a trident. The keychain that dangled from it was a rounded token that had an inlaid black image of what appeared to be tidal waves. The way his scythe edge had been caught gave Gulbrand a small fright, but he steeled his nerves and pulled it back and away, spinning his body to avoid a lunging jab from the points on the other Keyblade and stepping back to make some small distance between himself and his foe.

"Not going to fall for that either, I see," the robed figure taunted, bringing both of his hands to grasp at the handle, slightly tipping the end towards the Master, "You've got some quick reflexes and think pretty fast on your feet. It's a shame you threw your lot in with the wrong side, because I think you would have made a valuable ally if you'd chosen darkness instead. Seems you're content to die upholding such a ridiculous order, but don't feel too bad. I'll at least grant you the privilege of a warrior's demise."

The Master of Light gritted his teeth and creased his brow angrily. "You sure do like to hear yourself talk. You're just like the Master that tried to drown this world in darkness years and years ago. He didn't know when to shut the hell up about 'I'm powerful' this and 'darkness' that, and he ended up biting the dust. I'm already sick of chatting with you because of how much you remind me of him, so I'm just gonna beat the ever loving crap out of you now."

Gulbrand lifted his Keyblade up and behind his head, jumping forward and circling it about once before attempting to slash horizontally, but the mysterious person avoided the blow by ducking underneath the swing the instant before it would have connected. He retaliated with an upward sweep of his own weapon, which Gulbrand managed to dodge by stepping back and leaning slightly away from his foe. The Master's other hand stretched out and let loose a bolt of lightning that arced across the other blade and into the body of his enemy, who seemed momentarily stunned by the literal shock, but not long enough to be caught off-guard for Gulbrand's follow-up slice. Frustrated at the resilience of the figure, the veteran fighter accelerated off of his back foot and delivered a knee to the gut of his opponent, forcing air from the man and giving Gulbrand the opportunity to deliver the blunt side of his Keyblade to the guy's head. With a grunt of annoyance and presumably some pain, the robed warrior doubled back before mimicking the casting gesture the other man used, except that a ball of black fire erupted from his fingertips rather than electricity. Gulbrand casually swung his weapon upwards to deflect the energy sent his way, watching it crash and leave a dark mark on the side of the mountain nearby. In a flash, the other man seemed to vanish, but before the Master could get comfortable, his foe reappeared close to one side and above him, giving him barely enough time to leap out of the way of a strike that would have done a number on him, had it hit.

From that position, the masked man rushed forward after springing off his feet, a series of rapid-fire slashes raining down upon Gulbrand's weapon as he swung his own as though it were lighter than air. The Master found his feet being forced back across the dirt as he repelled the blows with his Keyblade, gritting his teeth at the sudden aggression he was facing. Another pivot of his body allowed Gulbrand to move aside and out of the way of the assault from his opponent, using the brief moment to swipe at the enemy, grinning when he heard the telltale sign of a sharp grunt of pain. The instant the robed figure clutched at the wound on his arm, Gulbrand moved in and proceeded to deck the man with his free hand, following this up by grabbing the edge of the hood to yank the guy's head down and slam it into his knee. To his astonishment, the Master saw the stranger jump back and level his weapon as though he had not been phased at all, though there was a telltale crack in the mask now around the bridge of the nose. Another thrust from Gulbrand with the tip of his blade struck at that exact spot, making the face covering fracture further until the crack reached the top and bottom of the mask. At that moment, the two halves fell away with a shake of the stranger's head, revealing the face of his opponent.

But before the Master could get a good look at it, the mysterious figure shot forward at blinding speed, the prongs on his weapon facing straight out in front. Gulbrand was hardly given enough time to dodge to the side, just barely avoiding the rush attack. Still distracted by the uncertain resemblance he could see in the stranger's face, the Master was unprepared for the 180 degree turn by his foe. The lapse in attention was adequate to allow the robed man to drive home his trident-like Keyblade into Gulbrand's right shoulder, a twisted smirk on his face as the Master shouted in pain and dropped his own weapon to the ground, the dirt clouding from the heavy object impacting the earth.

"You don't seem all there, Master of the Light," the other wielder said scornfully, "did my appearance really catch you off guard that much? Isn't it part of life's lessons to 'expect the unexpected' and be ready for anything? After all, one never knows what could be lurking in the shadows. It could be a harmless stray...or maybe a savage monster."

Gulbrand tore himself away from the impalement of his shoulder and grunted as his left hand swept up his Keyblade in a way that caused him to wince from the movement. "I'm more surprised that you can bite as well as you bark, really," he retorted, trying to not let his foe get to him, "Because in my experience, when a dog of the darkness bays in my direction, it usually doesn't get a chance to show me what its fangs can do."

"Is that right?" the other man asked, flashing him a toothy grin as if to mock the wordplay he had just heard, "Then let me humor you by remarking that you've only sampled a test nibble from this beast. You're no weakling by any stretch, but you're far from able to best me, especially with that wound. The next attack I land on you will be the one that ends you...though given your durability, I'd say you're not going to kick the bucket right away."

Snorting in dismissal of the claim, Gulbrand started to distance himself from the other fighter, the hand on his unharmed side raising his weapon into the air swiftly. "Heal-" he began to say, but his statement was cut short by the sudden thrust of his opponent's Keyblade straight through his chest, the sickening noise of steel piercing soft flesh filling his ears along with his own gasp of agony. It had happened so quickly that he did not even know the man had made his move until after the fact. Gulbrand once more dropped his Keyblade, clutching in horror at his wound after the man's weapon was torn away rather forcefully, his breathing coming at irregular intervals due to the damage done. He dropped down to his knees and soon after fell onto his less injured side, the other warrior standing over him with a victorious, albeit sadistic smile. But rather than go in for another strike, the figure pointed his Keyblade at the outline of the world's door in the mountainside and fired a beam of light from the center prong. The outline of a keyhole appeared in the rocky surface and the echo of a tumbler unlocking resounded through the air, the sound causing Gulbrand's heart to sink further than it already had.

"Did I not say that blow would end you?" he said with a smile that would freeze the blood of a natural-born killer, "you thought you could react quickly enough to avoid me and use a curative spell, but you judged incorrectly. It's just as well, though. Consider the end result your karmic reward for slaying my own Master all those years ago. Maybe those former apprentices of yours would be more agreeable if I offered them the same proposition I attempted to sway you with earlier. On the other hand, I think I'll wait until they grow a little bit stronger from the hardships they're about to face before considering them seriously.

"In the meantime, I'll wait in the shadows to watch as this world, along with many others, drowns in darkness," the stranger proclaimed ominously, one hand fishing into his robes to pull out another mask identical to the one he had on before.

Gulbrand felt himself collapsing onto the ground, his strength beginning to fail him, only able to watch as the foe that had bested him leapt up the side of the mountain and out of sight. "Damn it, I overestimated my chances," he groaned regretfully, one hand grabbing at his chest as he wheezed in his breathing, "Boys...I'm sorry that things turned out for the worst. Hurry and escape while you still can, if you have any sense in those heads of yours."

**-Inherit-**

The pair of teens bolted from the edge of the forest back into the cul-de-sac and were unsettled to see more Heartless than just the shadows they had been chasing. There were larger, more upright versions of the basic creatures they had seen, which sported longer antennae and had a more humanoid shape, as well as more fearsome looking eyes. There were black beings that vaguely resembled the mountain lions that sometimes wandered close to town, though their fangs were more pronounced, their bodies were bulkier and overall taller, their tails had a sickle-shaped tip, and they wore a curious emblem on their chests that appeared to be a red and black heart with a cross attached to the bottom, with crimson stitches in vein-like patterns set within the borders of the heart. Globular dark bodies with three whip-shaped appendages, gleaming eyes and a perpetual grin also accompanied them, floating about among their numbers.

Viscus and Verité split up to try and control the crowd of Heartless, each of them summoning their Keyblades and rushing through a few with a timely slash. The latter brought his weapon close and shifted its shape into a shield, just managing to block a swipe from one of the dark cougars and reflect the potential harm back onto it, causing it to explode into a black smoky cloud and release what seemed to be a heart into the air. Viscus slammed his own blade into the ground and jumped off of the handle, his hands moving out to point below him and let loose arcs of lightning from his fingertips, each bolt striking a member of the horde and causing them to vanish into dark wisps. Coming back down, he brought his heel against the handle of his Keyblade, causing it to flip up into the air and land into the opposite hand of the one he had been using before. Its top-heavy design allowed him to slam most Heartless into nothing with a downward swing, though its edge was also deceptively sharp, cleaving through the dark creatures with little effort.

Verité watched as more of them began to surround his friend, though Viscus was not impeded in the slightest by their efforts. The brown-haired boy trusted the other teenager to handle them and increased his distance, picking off stragglers that had taken to victims that were easier to subdue. He quickly made his way through the horde towards his own home, a pit forming in his stomach as he saw his parents backed into a corner by a handful of the cougar-like shapes. He switched his Keyblade from its shield form back into its regular shape and leapt forward, a single two-handed slash dispatching three of the creatures. Just as the others took notice of him, Verité brought his weapon down on the head of one, causing it to bow into the ground before being reduced to a freed heart. A quick turn and a stab made the remaining Heartless suffer the same fate as the rest, Verité keeping tense as he brought his Keyblade close once more. Taking a few moments to look around, he determined no others were in the immediate vicinity and relaxed to help his parents calm down.

"Mom, Dad, listen to me," he said hurriedly, as he was painfully aware that they would not be rid of company for long, "we have to get the Gummi ship. We need to fit as many people as possible, along with the most necessary articles, onto that thing. I'll hold off the Heartless on the way there while you get in and start it up, then I'll go back to help Vic and we'll bring the others."

It had been during the examination for the Mark of Mastery that Gulbrand's longtime friend and fellow Master, Julius, had instructed Verité's father in the construction and operation of a Gummi ship, as he had arrived on their world in his own. Previously, he and Gulbrand had come to Voluntas through teleportation magic that had been lent to them by their own Master. However, this had not been utilized since Julius' return to his home world after the invasion, as it was a great strain on their aging mentor to allow them to bypass the boundaries of other worlds. Of course, gathering the materials had required the men to attend a number of meteor showers and track where the star shards, what the component Gummis were sometimes called, had landed. It also helped that a good amount were lying around due to past showers. Verité was thankful for their efforts, and that his father had shared his knowledge of how to work the thing, as the ship now seemed to be their only ticket to surviving this new onslaught.

Though still shaken by what had nearly happened to them, Verité's parents nodded quickly in understanding of his plan and moved to exit their house with their son, who kept close behind them with his Keyblade at the ready. They were harassed a number of times on their way towards the clearing in the woods where the craft was kept, Verité ruthlessly cutting down any of the beasts that dared to approach them. Viscus, meanwhile, had eased his way towards the other homes while he broke through the crowd of Heartless. At the same time, he was trying to keep their attention focused on him, as the Keyblade was a natural attractor of their kind and he hoped that it would be enough to draw them to him. Many of his neighbors watching from safety were stunned by his display, for this was the first time the majority of them had actually seen him brandish his weapon, due to the discretion that Gulbrand demanded of his pupils and for the fact that there had been no real Heartless threat in over a decade.

The young man spotted some of his similarly aged friends who had gotten closer to the action, shaking his head at what he personally believed a poor choice. Regardless of how much he wanted to smack his forehead, he rushed over and swung his blade down into the pavement near the monsters. Jagged columns of earth impaled the Heartless that were just out of reach of the other boys, startling the group from the sudden upending of the ground. Viscus just as quickly herded them back towards their houses and relayed the need to get only the most necessary things for an evacuation, a stern expression on his face wordlessly warning them not to get mixed up again. He returned to the circle and focused more of his efforts on dispatching the creatures and coaxing them to go after him. Although it had seemed to be working, and while a sizeable figure had been eliminated, almost every time he turned around, there were more of the dark beings than there had been before. While he was hardly growing tired from the conflict, Viscus knew that it would be difficult to attend to everyone while Verité was escorting his parents.

He suddenly noticed a small family of three that seemed trapped inside a circle of the Heartless, and he feared that he would not make it with his path blocked by so many more. Desperately, he swung his Keyblade into the crowd and fired off a few more bolts of lightning, but more of the things would replace the fallen and cause him to be held up. Just as the fiends leapt towards the helpless people, a barrier composed of translucent hexagons was erected around them, and the moment the Heartless struck at it, there was a brief flash. It then exploded outward into sickles of light and wiped the offending creatures away, as well as any others that had been near enough to even touch the violent reaction. Verité momentarily landed next to the startled folks and Viscus let out a breath of relief at his friend's timely entrance.

"Thanks for the save!" he shouted appreciatively over to the other teen, who flashed him a thumbs up to both confirm they were okay and to let him know that his family successfully got where they needed to go.

As if on cue, a large green flying craft roughly in the shape of a fighter jet came into view over the center of the lot. Verité waved his arms up at the ship to direct it towards his position and began to back away towards the sidewalk in order to get himself clear. After doing the same, Viscus watched as the aircraft's bottom side opened a few hatches, but rather than the landing stabilizers he expected to see, a handful of weapon barrels appeared instead, each trained on the mass of Heartless below. Looking over and thinking to ask what was going on, Viscus noticed that Verité's expression betrayed just as much confusion. The armaments on their escape vehicle summarily unleashed a hail of lasers that caused the boys to dive for cover, as not all of the shots had fired with perfect accuracy. They noted that while it was true that Heartless were almost immune to typical weapons, the matter the ship was made out of and the energy it used as ammunition were far from conventional. And so, as a result, the barrage easily tore through their ranks, the asphalt of the circle becoming charred and cracked from the powerful blasts as the Heartless numbers rapidly dwindled.

It took little time for the cul-de-sac to be cleared away, though the ground was certainly scarred by the bombardment. Deciding to put this little matter of trigger-happy behavior from his father under the table, Verité and Viscus went from door to door, each gathering up the neighbors and bringing them out to the ship, which had come to a landing not long after they started herding everyone towards the center of the area. Each of the boys also took time to run into their own home and began to scavenge nonperishables, water, and only an armful of clothes and their closest possessions. For Viscus, that included the picture of his family, as it was the only copy of the photo he possessed. Verité took a little extra time in grabbing a few of his parents' things as well, one bag slung over his shoulder which contained their clothes and his. With everything they needed, the teens ran outside and jumped into the Gummi ship through the open bay door.

After taking two head counts and determining that there was only room for one more person aboard, Verité quickly displaced his father from the pilot's chair and began to hurriedly check the instruments so that they could take off as quickly as possible. Readjusting the cabin pressure once the door was sealed came first, then the oxygen levels for when they made their long voyage, though they would have to be examined again once they acquired their last passenger. Weapon reserves were checked twice on each turret to gain an idea of which might run out first in the event they had to use them again. And once everything was squared away, Verité swiveled his chair around to face the understandably nervous people aboard.

"Alright, I need everybody to get in their seats and fasten their safety bindings!" he called out commandingly to the small crowd within the confines of the Gummi ship.

Viscus hopped into the seat next to his friend and strapped himself in once he made sure that everyone else had done so. "Let's go get Sir Gulbrand. We're just one person short of the maximum capacity, and I'll not leave him behind if I can help it."

Verité nodded grimly, sharing his fellow Master's sentiment. He turned back around to alter the settings on the ship's propulsion and direct it to perform a vertical takeoff. Aside from the occasional dip in position as it rose into the air, the ascension had seemed almost as though the Gummi ship was not moving at all, which some of the passengers were thankful for. Once the craft had reached a sufficient cruising altitude, Verité engaged the rear thrusters to propel them towards the mountains, the pair of teens almost slammed into their seat backs by the sudden and immense acceleration. The two young men in front were rather surprised at how much distance they were covering in such a short span of time, arriving at the peak nearest to their town in less than half a minute. Verité hastily disengaged the rear thrusters and applied the front ones for but a few moments in order to slow them down, nearly slamming his head against the console from the rapid decline in speed and causing everyone else to lurch in their seats. Complaints about potential whiplash aside, everybody seemed to be alright, and the two pilots eased the ship into moving far more slowly than before. Admittedly, the two had gone over the directions many times, but this was their first instance of actually flying the Gummi ship, and so they had expected a bit of a bumpy ride.

A gentle tilt on the steering device allowed them to coast down towards the valleys that ran between the mountains, each of the boys on the lookout for the bare patch of land that gave away the location of the world's door. It was more of a task to find it from the air, as they were viewing from a different perspective than normal and the ground was pretty far beneath them. Eventually, though, they spotted the area and descended down until they were just above the top of the tree line of the nearby forest, keeping the Gummi ship in an idle hover with the bottom jets close to the side of the mountain. Viscus undid his restraints and moved towards the exit hatch, prying it open after some effort and leaping out of the door to the rocky surface of the mountain near them, leaving those near the opening a bit startled from the strong winds produced by their altitude and the thrusters of the aircraft. His legs moved partly of their own accord as he went running down the incline, summoning his Keyblade to help control his speed. Once near the bottom, he jumped to face sideways along the mountainside and skidded down towards the dirt, the weathered rock keeping him from sliding too quickly.

It was then that he spotted the prone form of his former Master, whose only sign of movement was the ragged breathing that caused his body to rise and fall. Dread filled Viscus as he bolted towards Gulbrand, quickly coming to kneel at his side and using both arms to slip under the man's chest and flip him onto his back. He almost immediately regretted the action, as the blond-haired Master convulsed and went into a fit of coughs that forced up a bit of his own blood, and the teenager could not help but grimace in both disgust and worry as he spotted the deep gash in the man's chest from his earlier fight. Shaking away the guilt at aggravating the injuries to focus on the present, Viscus knelt closer to his teacher, fishing into one of his pockets to retrieve a small vial.

"My god, Sir Gulbrand!" he cried out, his voice shaking from worry, his hands trembling as he tried to open the container in his hands, "Don't worry, I'll fix you up real quick with this potion and then I can get you out of here! Verité's father can be co-pilot while I tend to your wounds after that!"

But before he could get the bottle fully uncorked, Viscus found the wrist of one of his hands suddenly grabbed by his old mentor, a pleading look in those green eyes. "It's too late for that," he rasped weakly, another spasm of coughs hitting him as he struggled to continue speaking, releasing his grip from his student's wrist, "no amount of attention, medical or magical, can save me now...take my hand, boy."

"Master...there has to be something-"

"Damn it, Viscus Leto!" he yelled, clutching at his chest with his free hand painfully, "I literally don't have time for this. I didn't think it'd come to this...but the Rite is needed, boy, and I've chosen you to be the recipient. You and Verité have to watch your backs...a new Master of Darkness has shown himself. He's so much stronger than the one I faced, it's not even comparable. My power and my weapon will pass to you, but I'm doubtful on whether they'll be enough. You have to find Julius and tell him what's happened...he'll assist you in any way he can, believe me.

"Now, take hold of my hand, kid," he uttered hoarsely, his voice now barely above a mumble.

Despite all the painful feelings coursing through him, Viscus respectfully did as his Master had told him to. Gulbrand closed his eyes gently and started to speak an incantation that Viscus could only assume was forbidden to recite seriously in all but the most desperate of times.

"In your hands from my own, I give to you my life, and my battle-forged edge to overcome strife. Though my body shall fade and my heart soon set free, my Keyblade shall be bequeathed unto you from me. The darkness I kept hidden and the light that I wore, shall be yours to know and bear along with much more. While my time is at an end, your path has just begun, and my spirit shall aid you until your work is done."

With those last words spoken, the body of Gulbrand gave out one final shudder, drawing in one last gasping breath before slowly falling limp, the grip of the hand that Viscus held giving out so that only he was keeping it level. Lowering his arm to bring his Master's hand across his chest, the boy grit his teeth and choked back a sob, though he could not stop the water that formed in the corners of his eyes. His pain was momentarily distracted when Gulbrand's body began to give off a faint glow, which only intensified as the seemingly endless and painful moments passed by. To the teen who had just witnessed his Master's death, it was a rather interesting and strangely comforting sight. And just as the scintillation reached its brightest and most intense, the Master's form seemingly began to melt away, transforming from a solid shape into a dark and unstable mass. Viscus could only watch in horror and strongely renewed grief as that grotesque image broke down further and further until it was a blackened puddle on the ground, which summarily evaporated into dark wisps of smoke. In his now vacant hand, the young man found himself holding what had once been his mentor's Keyblade, his other hand moving to trace a couple fingers gingerly over its form.

All of a sudden, a flood of emotions filled him, though he did his best to keep them in check as he tried to measure the rush of power that now coursed through his body. He shut his eyes both in sadness and in an attempt to concentrate on the energies that began to occupy his heart. Viscus found himself looking into the world he had seen in his dream, but the sense of touch he felt was still that of reality. The jarring blur of what was real and what was perceived caused him to groan as his mind tried to make sense of the conflict. In the darkness surrounding the "pillar", words began to float freely and appear as if from nowhere. Most confusing was that Viscus found himself able to hear them, and it was in a tone that he instantly recognized.

_How could such a monster exist? He's worse than that fiend all those years ago! And to humble me and strike me down as though I were nothing...how lamentable! What is the source of his power? Is his darkness truly so disturbingly deep that it can grant him such might? How, then, has his heart not been consumed by its shadow? Is it possible that he IS a Heartless? To think I'll die without avenging myself and knowing the answers to these damn questions!_

What Viscus believed to be the final thoughts of his former Master all echoed inside of him, a pain seizing his chest and causing him to clench at it with his unoccupied hand. All at once, an anger and hatred not his own coursed through his mind. Such feelings, when they were his own, were no stranger to him, but these were immensely pronounced, and their intensity was so great that he could swear he was being physically clawed at from the inside. His teachings urged him to let them flow through him but to not allow them to take control, for that, he had been told, was what allowed darkness to eventually overtake someone. The sudden imbalance he felt between the light and darkness within him lead him to realize that although Gulbrand was a strong advocate of the light, the Master's heart had a deep and terrible shadow. Perhaps, he thought to himself, the injury from this Master of Darkness and the negative emotions boiling within his teacher had nearly driven the now deceased man into becoming a Heartless, and the Rite had been the only way to guarantee preventing that from happening. It was just a theory grasping at straws, but Viscus did not want to consider the possibility that that had been the fate that awaited Gulbrand regardless of his actions.

"Viscus, are you okay?"

The youth was shaken out of his contemplation, peering upwards and once more seeing the real world around him, the visions of the dream-like place in his heart having faded after opening his eyes. Verité was no doubt concerned at how long he was taking, but it was not until Viscus had risen to his feet that he learned just how much his friend had seen and that the voice he had heard moments ago belonged to him.

"I saw the whole thing," Verité said over the loudspeakers, talking into a mic that he kept near the control panel, pain clearly evident in his voice, "I'm really sad he's gone, too. And while I hate to sound like mourning him isn't important, we have to get out of here. Gulbrand would want us to live another day and not let ourselves get dragged into a battle we'd eventually lose. You understand, right? We can always come back for the world when we're stronger, since the door to its heart is still locked."

Viscus rose to both feet, though his head was still hung heavily. He had to concede to his friend's words, or at least he would have if he did not notice the gleam in the mountainside out of the corner of his eyes. The door had become an archway of light and in its center was a black keyhole, something he was more than certain had not been there before. Viscus' sadness was replaced by fear as the gravity of the situation struck him. He knew that a world's door could only be unlocked by either the person who originally closed it or by someone who had a more powerful heart than the former. And since Gulbrand would not willingly undo his seal in light of the current invasion, this indeed confirmed that someone stronger had forced it open. There would be no world to come back to if he left it as it was.

Raising Gulbrand's Keyblade in one hand, Viscus readied himself to aim it towards the keyhole, but was surprised when his own weapon appeared in his other. Wielding more than one was not unheard of, as his mentor had informed him of such earlier that day. But he had assumed that the Rite would merely allow him to use his former Master's weapon in place of his own when he needed to. His mind shook off the shock as he reminded himself of what was at stake, now bringing both Keyblades to point towards the door to the world's heart. A sphere of light traced its shape and solidified in the air around the tips of the weapons, energy gathering towards the center of them and then releasing itself as a concentrated beam. But it had not gone even halfway before something came hurtling down into the ground in front of the door, which appeared to the boy to be like a trident in shape. A visible pulse of darkness from the object shook the air and formed into a black wall which completely deflected the ray of light away from reaching its intended destination.

"I see coming back wasn't such a paranoid idea after all!" exclaimed a voice that Viscus was certain he had not heard before.

Looking up, he saw a masked man in a silver robe, whose appearance struck a cord of recognition in the part of himself he had inherited from Gulbrand. "My heart is brimming with anger that isn't mine from your appearance here. Is it possible that you are the Master of Darkness that Gulbrand had mentioned?"

"Ah, so that was the warrior's name," the figure mumbled, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly as he fully turned his attention to the boy, "In all honesty, yes, your gut instinct is right about me being that same person. By the way, I notice that you also have that man's Keyblade in your possession. How did you come to be able to use it? It was my understanding that most wielders can only use one Keyblade and could change its form, yet you have two entirely unique ones. And what exactly did you mean by 'anger that isn't yours'?"

Viscus' brow twisted into a scowl as he brought both of his weapons close to him in a defensive posture. "It's not for those outside of our order to know, especially not someone like you, who would no doubt use it for selfish gain."

"Well, I see it's useless to pry," the stranger said, shaking his head in disappointment, "all the same, I can't let you lock the door here. I really don't want to get rid of you either, though, so if you wouldn't mind making this easier, don't bother trying to get through me to the keyhole. It would be a lot less painful if you just went back to your ship with your little friend."

The black-haired teenager tightened the grip on his Keyblades, the foreign rage within him pleading to let loose on the man. But the rational part of him was hesitant, recalling that Gulbrand had mentioned doubt in the combined power of their Keyblades being adequate for such a strong opponent. And at the same time, Viscus knew that by turning away or prolonging this confrontation, he was allowing the Heartless more time to locate the door, and given that it was now wide open, they would be upon it soon enough. Reckless as it was, he took a step forward and pointed his own weapon in the direction of the stranger. In response, the robed man extended his left arm out to one side, and in another pulse of darkness similar to the one from moments before, the trident-like Keyblade disappeared from the ground and rematerialized into his hand.

"You won't go quietly then?" he asked Viscus, who shook his head just slightly enough for him to notice. Eliciting a sigh of frustration, the man brought up his Keyblade into a battle-ready stance. "And here I was thinking you'd make a more reasonable decision. Seems whatever bit of power you took from that man also made you headstrong. Don't think I'll play around with you like I did him, though."

Viscus dug one of his heels into the dirt and shoved off into a blinding dash, twisting his body so that both of his weapons slashed outward in a whirlwind motion the moment he was right in front of his foe. The figure flipped his Keyblade down and held it fast in both hands in order to guard against the attack, sparks flying from metal clashing against metal. The boy jumped away just in time to avoid an upward retaliatory slash, the prongs of the trident barely missing the edge of his nose. Viscus flipped backwards in the air and landed in a crouch, crossing his weapons across one another to block a down strike from the man. The three blades shook and noisily clattered together as both parties struggled to overtake each other, the younger warrior feeling his arms start to bend further as the older one continued to push. Viscus muttered lowly to himself and his boots glowed a faint violet before suddenly lifting him from the dirt, forcing the man in front of him to break out of the lock and ready himself for another strike. The teen extended his fingers from the handle of his Keyblades, three large pieces of ice flying towards the one in the robe, though each of them was blocked or cleaved in turn and did little more than serve as a distraction. The man's free hand shot forward and unleashed a ball of black fire that hurtled towards Viscus, its path curving as the young man tried to leap to one side. He swung his Master's Keyblade and caused the dark orb to dissipate, twirling both the weapons about and changing his stance so that one arm was raised above his head and the other was closer to his waist, one blade aimed at the enemy while the other crossed over his abdomen defensively.

In the Gummi ship, Verité nervously watched the battle over one of the visual monitors just above the console's controls. The stranger's movement seemed to charge headlong towards Viscus before suddenly dropping away and reappearing through dark portals, as if he were tearing into the fabric of space itself to get around. With every attack, his friend's reflexes narrowly allowed him to escape intact, though Verité knew that such aggression was to force him into a position from which he could not go on the offensive. At points, the mysterious figure slashed at the air with his Keyblade and shadowy blades would "fire" from the arc of the swings with a width just as great as the entire motion. Other times, he would drive his free hand into the ground and bits of the earth would rise or attempt to stab at his smaller opponent. It was clear to the observing Verité that the man was very experienced, judging from how calmly his motions were being performed compared to Viscus' more frantic avoidance and countering of the attacks that came his way. He wanted to help from up there, but at the same time, he knew that there was a very real risk of his friend getting hit by the laser cannons if he used those. Verité could only watch, his hands increasing their grip on the steering device.

"Vic, I hate to say it, but this guy looks to be too much," he murmured grimly, "Gulbrand was right when he warned us to be wary of those who come from outside our world. I only hope you make it back to the ship before things get out of hand."

Viscus was daunted by what was occurring, as the longer the battle went on, the more ferocious the assault from his foe became. The other man's Keyblade was flung at the boy's feet, the prongs burrowing into the ground from the force of the throw. Erratic bolts of black and purple energy lashed out from the embedded weapon, the ground singed where it struck and sections of nearby trees shattered into splinters. The debris forced Viscus to fully focus on avoiding the blasts and shrapnel, and so he was unaware of his opponent appearing close by after a number of near-misses. Thus, he was unprepared to take a blow to the gut from one of the man's fists, the wind painfully knocked out of him. The strike sent him tumbling through the air until he was directly above the dark Master's Keyblade, where a concentration of multiple rays of energy fired up into Viscus. The boy could only scream out in agony as he was launched further upwards by the surge, his vision blurring until he could only see stars.

His body fell against the ground as it continued its passage from the earlier hit, both Keyblades fading away into sparks of light as he lost consciousness from the combined pain of all the punishment he took. The robed man dismissed his own weapon from sight, bringing both hands together and pointing his index fingers to a space close to Viscus. A dark and ovular field of energy formed from the ground up to roughly his own height, tendrils of shadow spreading over the base of it and flickering in the air like smoke trails. The figure proceeded over to the prone form of Viscus and lifted him by the collar of his mantle with a single hand, tilting his hooded head in what seemed to be curiosity as he studied the boy. With a light grunt, he tossed Viscus towards the energy field, the body seeming to vanish as if hurtling down a lightless pit. The stranger took the time to have one last look back at the edges of the forest, a quiet and sinister chuckle escaping from him as he spotted the forms of Heartless moving in the sea of trees towards the door to the world's heart. He proceeded through the shadowy construct, and as soon as he too disappeared, the oval momentarily collapsed inward and then blinked out of existence.

Verité was not sure how to react to what he had seen. Very faintly, he had made out on the camera that Viscus had still been breathing when he had been held up by the masked man. It was confirmation that his friend was at least alive, but then there was the matter of what that vortex exactly was. If the man had not also stepped through it, Verité would have assumed it to be a way of eliminating Viscus. And with the Heartless fast approaching the world's door, he was at a loss of what to do. And it was during his pause that his father's hands came over his own, trembling from what Verité could only imagine to be sadness, and helped him to guide the ship skyward. With the airlock once more locked tight, the Gummi ship fired its rear thrusters to full blast and streaked into the space beyond the world. As the people looked back upon the rapidly shrinking Voluntas, its atmosphere darkened steadily and the landmasses began become engulfed in what could only be described as liquid shadow. Slowly it crept over the surface until the entire world was wholly encased within the black mass, the umbral matter seeming to almost drip into space from the planet.

A massive point in space was torn open, the sight beyond the fracture a darkness deeper than the vastest celestial void. Into this hole the world of Voluntas was drawn, as was any other object that happened to be too close. Once the planet had completely passed into the tear, it sealed itself back up as though an invisible needle had sewn its area of space shut. Verité and the rest were thankful that they had managed to pass beyond its influence, but there was another matter to consider now that they were out of harm's way. Where would they settle now that there was no Voluntas to return to? On Verité's mind, there was the question of what had happened to Viscus and the unknown man, and beyond that, how he could ever find them. The universe was a dismally and incomprehensibly huge place, and part of his heart despaired at the infinitesimal possibility of reuniting with his friend.


	2. 1A: Unfamiliar Faces and Foreign Places

**Chapter 1, Side A: Unfamiliar Faces and Foreign Places**

Viscus groaned as a dull ache that resonated through his entire body shook him from unconsciousness, his eyes gently starting to flutter open as he searched for the strength to will himself fully awake. He almost immediately regretted it due to the near-blinding sunlight that filled his vision, causing him to quickly move one hand to shield his face, though that action too caused a surge of pain to shoot up his arm. He could not remember the last time he had been so sore, though he could recall what had caused this instance. At the realization of the most recent events, he swiftly brought himself to sit upright, cursing under his breath as his body painfully protested. Doing his best to ignore the aching that constantly gnawed at him, Viscus slowly tilted the bottom of his hand upward so that he could get a good look at his surroundings.

Rolling hills of verdant grass surrounded him on all sides, stretching as far as the eye could see from where he was sitting. Small clusters of brush and leafy trees dotted the landscape, and patches of blue and orange wildflowers gave diversity to the color of the fields. There were no mountains to speak of and the mysterious figure he had seen when he was last awake was nowhere to be found. However, the humming and buzzing of cicadas was prominent in the air, as were the chirps of various songbirds, with the occasional calls of numerous small mammals joining in as well. It was the sort of scene that reminded Viscus of the countryside that his family had sometimes taken a retreat to when he was younger. At the same time, it drove the point home that he was no longer where he had once been, and given that the pain he felt was indeed quite real, it was safe to assume he was neither dead nor dreaming.

He dipped his head lowly as he considered these things, a melancholic sigh escaping from his lips. _Well, isn't this fantastic?_ he thought to himself in bitter sarcasm, _I have no idea where I am and the guy who brought me here is gone. Not only that, but he dominated the battle when I tried to fight him. As far as things seem to be going, my world is probably gone, swallowed up by the darkness. Of course, I can't know that for sure, and I should probably try to find a place around here that has other people. That's assuming this is one of those worlds where other people can be found._

As painful as it was, Viscus willed himself to get to his feet, groaning in frustration as he heard a telltale rip in fabric. Looking down, he saw that his clothes were riddled with holes, presumably from the last attack he had taken before losing consciousness. His skin was red and nearly raw where those openings showed, though there were also blackened patches and bruises along his arms, and from what he could feel after an experimental running of his hand along his collar bone, over his neck and shoulders as well. Some of his wounds were a little more serious, as evidenced by the light yet consistent bleeding in a few notable lacerations. Viscus shuddered at the image forming in his head of just how wrecked he must have looked. He brought his hands together and attempted to call upon the arcane essence in his body to help him recuperate, but nothing came. The teenager groaned out dismally at this, knowing that it could only mean that he was tapped out and that he had not had enough time to replenish his reserves even during his knockout spell. Gently, he began to trudge his way across the fields, but every step he took renewed the fiery soreness and pain in his legs, causing him to have difficulty walking straight. Frequently, he found himself having to stop and take a brisk rest before continuing on, much to his annoyance.

Hunger and thirst brought about a different kind of irritation, both in his dry throat and in his empty stomach. Viscus remembered that he had not eaten or drank anything since the meager breakfast he had had at Verité's home, and it was clear that more than enough time had passed for the natural pangs to rear their heads once more. They added to the fatigue he was already experiencing, making his body heavier with each passing moment. The teen knew that only his will to hang on and pray that somebody was nearby kept him going. And deep down, part of him hoped that Verité and the others would find him.

After what seemed like hours of trekking, Viscus cleared another hill and spotted a single one-story house nestled in a small group of trees. Its color was mostly varying shades of a woody brown, the surface indicative that it had been constructed from several types of lumber, while the slanted roof was grey and metallic. It sported a mottled white stone chimney on one side, which currently seemed inactive as far as smoke output was concerned. A set of three steps led up to a solid white door, which Viscus could only assume to be the front entrance. From his view, the teenager could only spot a few windows, all of which had blinds on the inside that prevented him from seeing inside the structure. All in all, it looked rather homey, and in a way, reminded Viscus very much of the cabin that his parents had once owned in his younger years.

Mustering up the strength to keep moving and doing his best to fight against the debilitating pain that shot through his nerves, the young man approached the house. He stumbled forward after getting to the last step, putting both hands out in front of him to help break his fall. Sharp pain spiked through his hands and up his arms, the boy biting his lip to hold back an agonized cry. Shakily raising one hand to the door, he gave a few firm knocks, wincing with each rap against it. Viscus took heavy breaths as he waited for a response, and he was fortunate that it came a short time later. The front opened slowly, revealing a tall figure behind it. It was a man with short brown hair and fair skin, sporting a slightly chiseled jawline that was complimented by a goatee that matched his hair. His eyes were a deep ocean blue and were framed by a pair of caramel-colored tortoise shell glasses, seeming to gaze in surprise at the person on his doorstep. The frame on the man was well-built and sturdy, garbed in a sienna coat and pair of pants, with gloves and boots to match. After a few moments of examination, Viscus immediately recognized the fellow.

"S-sir Julius, is that you?" he asked weakly, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

The man's eyes lit up with concern after recognizing the youth before him. "Viscus!" he exclaimed incredulously, "By gods, you look positively horrible, lad! Let's get you inside and fix you up this instant!"

Hardly one to object, Viscus allowed one of his arms to drape over Julius' shoulders while the man fixed one around his waist, helping him walk and swiftly closing the door behind him. The interior living room had snowy white walls, mahogany hardwood floors, and a modest set of furniture consisting of a rustic red sofa, a glass coffee table, a black reclining chair and a fair-sized television set on top of a white, cabinet-style stand. From what Viscus could see, there was also an open entry into a kitchen and several doors that he assumed led to various other rooms. But he was not given much more time to look before he was eased into laying down upon the couch, Julius propping one of the arm cushions under his head to help keep it level. The older man then reached into one of his coat pockets and pulled out a vial of blue fluid, removing the cork and gently bringing the mouth of the bottle to Viscus' lips.

"Drink this, my boy," he said softly, tipping the contents upward so that they could flow smoothly into the teen's waiting mouth.

Viscus contorted his face in disgust once the liquid hit his tongue, but he fought against the urge to send it back up. In the past, he had only drank potions when he was exhausted and sore from training regimens. Though it had an enticing and sweet appearance, the taste was notably bitter, which, along with its syrupy texture, was something that he never cared for and was sure most other people disliked as well. However, the pain he was feeling in the moment helped to distract him from what his tongue was picking up, allowing him to tolerate the substance more than he normally would be able to. With every light swallow, the cool contents oozed down his throat and into his gut, and a strange but familiar warmth began to gradually spread throughout his body. When the last drop had passed his lips, the welts and sores across his skin started to fade and mend themselves before his eyes, and the aches began to finally die down. However, his flesh could not close up entirely in the case where his wounds were more severe, leaving scarred tissue where the healing was left incomplete. Despite this, enough of his strength had returned to allow him to comfortably get up and swing his legs around so that he could sit more presentably in the presence of his impromptu host.

"I'm sorry to come to your door unannounced and ragged," Viscus said embarrassedly to the other Master, tilting his face away.

Julius shook his head and took a seat next to the boy, placing the now empty bottle on the table in front of them. "I will admit that I was surprised to see you here on my home world, especially considering you have never left your own. But, there is no need for you to apologize for bothering me for help. You are a fellow Master, but I would like to think that you are also a friend, just as Gulbrand and Verité are. Speaking of those two, I am curious as to why they are not here with you now. Did something happen on Voluntas?"

"It's a long story," the teen said gloomily, his eyes turning down at the inquiry, "and I hope you have the time to listen, because there are some things that are going to be difficult for me to say. Just a fair warning, it might be just as hard for you to hear them."

Viscus began his tale by first bringing up the second Awakening that he had experienced not too long before, about the things he saw within it and his clash against his inner darkness. Without skipping a beat, the boy then told Julius that he and Verité had gone to visit Gulbrand to seek answers not just for that event, but for a couple of other choice topics, and how that discussion had moved onto the subject of the heart of the world and the Rite of Blood. He spoke of the encounter with the Heartless in the woods and how the three Masters had split up to deal with the threat, elaborating on the fight he and his friend had engaged in against the horde of darkness. Viscus talked about how they had gathered as many townsfolk as they could into the Gummi ship and then had set out to look for Gulbrand. It was there that he stopped short and bit his lip, the memory still painful for him to recollect.

Julius was rapt with attention at everything he was hearing, though he maintained a grim look about his face to show that he understood the seriousness of the story. It was evident to him that the further along the young former pupil of his friend went, the more visibly he began to tremble and shake. As curious as he was to know what happened next, there was no clearer sign that bad news was in store than the body language Viscus was displaying to him. He held out one hand and gave the boy a pat on the shoulder as he went to prepare some hot tea and fetch some bread, as the older Master felt that it would be best if he got something to help ease the boy's nerves. While the drink did not change Viscus' disposition, his body did seem to calm down enough for him to stop quivering. He took in a deep breath and exhaled heavily, slowly tilting his head up and clutching the teacup tightly in his hands.

"When we arrived at the mountain where the door to Voluntas' heart was," he said sullenly as he resumed the story, "I jumped out of the ship and made my way down the cliff side. At the bottom of the slope, I found Sir Gulbrand lying on the ground, mortally wounded by the one who had unleashed the Heartless. I wanted to tend to him, but he would not allow me, telling me it was already too late to make a difference in his condition. He spoke his last words to me and told me to search for you, before he performed the Rite of Blood and then fell limp in my grip as the life left him. Not long afterward, his body slowly faded away and the emotions he must have felt in his final moments flowed into me."

To prove his words, Viscus summoned the Keyblade of his deceased Master into his hand, looking over it sadly as he allowed Julius to examine it. The man brought one hand to cover over his mouth and gently shut his eyes, the boy next to him turning away as he spotted tears in the corners of those orbs. Viscus was aware that the friendship between Julius and Gulbrand was one that was all too similar to the one he had with Verité. His former teacher had related to him that the two were no older than he currently was when they had become the understudies of their own respective Master, and considering how long it had been since then, they had a lot of history between them. He could tell that the older man was holding back a flood of emotions for the sake of keeping composure, and it pained him to see such a strong and respectable figure show this sort of reaction. As depressed as he was about the recent events, Viscus was still dealing with the shock of it all, and while he could sympathize with the older man, he could not imagine how deeply it truly affected Julius. He also could not bear to tell the Master how Gulbrand's body had actually gone, both because it would have brought even more pain to the elder and he himself was still having difficulty believing what he had seen.

So, for at least a little bit, the boy had resolved to sit quietly and take the occasional bit of food and drink to help curb his need for satiation. Several minutes passed by as the youth waited until Julius had dried his eyes and was ready to listen again before continuing where he left off. Viscus put away Gulbrand's weapon and said that after his mentor's passing, he had noticed the door to the world's heart had been unlocked and soon came face-to-face with the one responsible for it. Despite the added abilities afforded to him by the acquisition of his teacher's weapon, he told Julius that he had been unable to fight the stranger on even grounds and that it was because of this that he ended up with the injuries he had been sporting when he had arrived on this world. He explained that, having been unconscious prior to crossing over, he had no idea how he had ended up here and that he had wandered around until stumbling upon the present Master's home. Having come full circle to the present, Viscus allowed himself to finish the nourishments that had been provided to him, his eyes once more turning to Julius, awaiting a response.

"It is truly heartrending to hear of my dear friend's demise," the brown-haired man said, taking the time to remove his glasses with one hand and rub the back of the other across his eyes, "And as much as I want the time to properly grieve, there is a much more pressing matter at hand, Viscus. This Master of Darkness that you mentioned has me worried, not just from his sheer power, but his continuation of the goal the Master before him had set out to accomplish as well. Who's to say that your world was the only one both of them had targeted for their shadowy designs? And I believe, though this is merely speculation on my part, that he has plans for you. Otherwise, don't you think he would have simply gotten rid of you when he had the chance? And then there's the fact you ended up here, of all places. It's more likely than not that he is already aware of this world and its residents, meaning that he could strike at any time, if he so desired."

Viscus had to agree that it did seem odd that the man he had fought had given him the ultimatum of leaving his world rather than engaging him. Given the evident gap in their power, the boy knew that he could have been finished off easily, and yet that did not happen. What was clear was that the stranger was certainly a threat to the sanctity of other worlds. As one who had been trained in order to help keep the peace in times of need, Viscus felt this was something he could not permit. The issue, however, remained in that he had no reliable way of transporting himself without a Gummi ship. And even if he did, he worried for Julius' safety, though in truth, he had no idea how skilled and strong the older Master really was. However, he knew that there was a way to get around, as he was certain that Gulbrand and his friend had managed it in the past.

The young man's train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and a voice calling to the man of the house. "Dad, we're back from sparring practice!"

"Oh my, is it that time already?" Julius said, half to himself and half to the one that had addressed him, the weariness on his face gently dissipating as he picked up the sound of footsteps.

Viscus looked up and watched as two figures came into the living room, one a young woman and the other a young man, each looking to be around his age. The former, aside from her gender and her body type, was the spitting image of Julius, having the same shade of brown in her shoulder-length hair, light and fair skin, and a pair of blue eyes as dark as his own. Her face was gently rounded in shape, her lips neither overly full nor thin, and her nose petite and placed in a symmetrically sound position. She was dressed in a pair of casual blue jeans and a modest green T-shirt, brown hiking shoes covering her feet and a simple silver chain hanging about her neck. The other was markedly different, as his skin was a touch more pale, the locks upon his head short and grey, and his eyes were so dark a shade of brown, they seemed to suck in the light around his face. His face bore small hints of masculinity rather than overt qualities, giving it a slightly softer appearance than what was typical for a boy his age. He too wore denim, but the pair was light black in color, and his shirt was much like Viscus' own in both its hue and its size. White shoes were his footwear of choice, and a simple star-shaped stud was affixed into each of his ears.

Both of them directed their attention towards Viscus to study him for a moment before the girl turned to Julius. "Oh, I wasn't aware that we were expecting guests," she said, one of her thin eyebrows raised in interest, "Is he a friend of yours, Dad?"

Julius chuckled warmly and nodded affirmatively to her. "Yes, and one I've been meaning for you to meet for a while now. Viscus, I'd like to introduce you to my daughter, Elea. The boy next to her is her cousin and my nephew, Salvatore," he said, pausing for a moment to once more face towards his guest and gesture towards him with an upturned palm, "Elea, Salvatore, this is Viscus Leto, one of the former apprentices of my friend and peer, Gulbrand. We named him a Master not too long ago alongside his own friend, Verité Capto, whom I'm sure you will meet in time."

Salvatore scanned over Viscus with an expression that gave the impression he was skeptical of the claim. The look in his eyes was one that rubbed the other boy in an uncomfortable way, and in his personal experience, that was indicative of a future relationship riddled with difficulty. "Forgive me for harboring doubt at your declaration, Uncle Julius," the grey-haired youth remarked, his tone calm and almost icy, "but he seems a little young to be one. Were you and Gulbrand not a bit further along in your years before you become Masters yourselves?"

Julius nodded, acknowledging that the teen was indeed correct. "Yes, we were just blossoming into the middle of early adulthood, dear nephew. However, Viscus here had begun his training at a much earlier age than Gulbrand and I. To be honest, I was initially against my peer taking on someone so young, but he quickly proved to me that any misgivings I had were unfounded. It was his and Verité's performance and determination at such a tender time in their lives that led me to making the decision to bring you and Elea into the fold. Trust me when I say that the two of us deliberated for quite a while before we made the final decision to accept them as equals."

"Yeah, Sal," Elea chimed in cheerfully, attempting to lighten the mood, "Dad wouldn't just name any kid off the street a Master. And besides, we've probably been preparing for our Mark of Mastery just as hard as they did. It's only a matter of time before we catch up and become everyone's peers!"

From the way they spoke so casually about it, Viscus had no doubt that they were up and coming apprentices themselves. Julius had mentioned to him during his own exam that he had taken on his own students not long after he and Verité had been accepted by Gulbrand, but he had never imagined that said wielders-in-training were members of Julius' own family. He questioned how the man had time to educate and provide for them, as it was no doubt exhausting being both a father and a mentor. A small part of Viscus wondered where Elea's mother was, as he had not seen her when he was brought in, nor had Julius mentioned anything about her. He had his own theories as to why this may be, a couple of which were tough to think about, given his own history. For now, he figured it was better to not ask any potentially uncomfortable questions and that the introductions should be followed up.

The young woman beat him to the punch, smiling and bowing with her hands folded in front of her. "It's a pleasure to meet another Master besides my father and Gulbrand. Though, it does feel a little strange referring to someone my age as 'Master Viscus', I'll admit."

"Just Viscus or 'Vic' is fine, as I'm not used to having honorifics applied to my name," he said humbly as he stood up, one arm laid over his chest as he returned the bow, "And it's nice to make your acquaintance, Elea. You as well, Salvatore."

The other young man gave a curt nod to acknowledge the greeting, but did not bother to respond with any introduction of his own. Instead, he simply moved towards one of the doors and went into whatever room was there, firmly shutting the way behind him. An awkward silence fell over the room as everyone else kept their lips tightly sealed, unsure of what to say. The sounds of items being shuffled around and haphazardly handled came from where Salvatore had gone, and they were quite plain to hear. As loud as they were, though, they could sense that there was no rage or frustration behind them. Viscus twiddled his thumbs as he wondered what had been going through Salvatore's head at the mention of him being a Master. Whether it was envy, disdain or some other feeling was uncertain, but in any case, he clearly did not seem pleased.

Elea made to do the same as her cousin had, quietly making her way over to what Viscus perceived to be her bedroom. She turned to her father and his friend, politely waving to them as if to excuse herself from the uncomfortably quiet living area. Giving a shrug, Julius massaged the bridge of his nose between his fingers and let out a sigh. As courteous as she was, he knew that Elea was not one who enjoyed entertaining guests, especially when they could realistically be in the same class as her. His exasperation was more reserved for Salvatore, however. "That boy," he muttered, "he always gets so discouraged whenever he meets someone more experienced in one of his passions."

"What do you mean by that?" Viscus asked curiously as he returned to his seat, being able to just barely pick up on the words the other person had spoken.

"Oh, don't take his actions as a sign that he doesn't like you, my boy," the older Master said reassuringly, clearing his throat and taking a breath to give his guest his undivided attention, now that they were alone, "but to answer your question, you have to first understand that Salvatore's home life is rather dreary. His mother is more keen on criticizing his achievements than giving him the praise he rightfully deserves. His father, my brother, is almost never around to care for him due to being a night owl, meaning he works overnight and then sleeps during a good portion of the day. To help him focus better on his studies and on improving his physical fitness, as well as get away from the harsh criticism of his mother, I took him on as an apprentice and I invite him over here every chance he can get. Even so, adjusting has been a slow and difficult process for him, and the incessant undermining of his efforts he experiences at home pushes him to try so much harder than he really needs to."

Viscus nodded solemnly as he took all of this in. "Well, I hope my being here hasn't upset him too badly, sir."

"I pray for his sake that you are right," Julius replied, "I'm sorry for dragging you into my family's drama, Viscus, but I felt that you needed to know so that you would not judge Salvatore too harshly from your first impression of him. Perhaps you can get to know him and my daughter a little better later on."

The younger Master nodded in understanding, one hand moving to stroke at his chin as he pondered what to do next, especially now that the atmosphere had become a tad heavy. "I am curious about one thing, Sir Julius. Earlier, you said that other worlds could be in danger, likely due to the Master of Darkness being able to seemingly freely travel from one to another. Is there any possible way for me to reach those worlds without going to trouble of asking you for your ship?"

"Viscus, there are, unfortunately, very few ways to traverse the cosmos aside from Gummi ship travel," Julius replied grimly. After a few moments, though, a glimmer showed in his eyes as if he had just hit upon a realization, the man striking the bottom of one fist against the upturned palm of his other hand. "However, it should be no issue to aid you in this endeavor if I make use of a bit of my talent! Come with me to the fields outside and I will enlighten you."

The two stood up from the sofa and began to make their way towards the front door, with Julius opening the way for them, waiting until his guest had stepped out before closing the door behind him. Viscus remembered that he had been told by Gulbrand once that when he and his friend had arrived on Voluntas, it had been through other means than the one afforded to them in recent years, due to the fact that Gummi ships did not yet exist then. The now deceased Master had related that it had been due to Julius' powerful magic afforded to him by his Keyblade that they had been able to arrive when they did. Because Gulbrand had been brought up to be a more physical combatant, he had been unable to harness the necessary arcane energy required for the spell Julius could wield, and so, when he had elected to stay on Voluntas following the first Heartless invasion, he had known that it meant he would be stuck there. Viscus admired his mentor's choice, though he wished that things had not turned out the way they had. But on the other hand, he figured that if Gulbrand had not stayed, then any defense against the second invasion would have been utterly hopeless, and he and Verité would have been helpless against the Heartless and their new commanding figure.

Refocusing on where exactly there were going, the young man realized that the two of them had not traveled very far at all. Just past a hill located behind Julius' estate was a shallow puddle of water encircled by a dozen fist-sized stones, each nearly as round as a baseball and as smooth as glass. The space could be occupied comfortably by two people, perhaps three if they remained stiff as a board. Viscus was about to ask what its significance was, but his mental question was cut short as Julius summoned his Keyblade. It was the same staff-like weapon he had seen depicted in one of the stained glass murals within his second Awakening, although its appearance seemed much more brilliant in the waking world than it did on the image. Waving and twirling it in one hand, the Master brought the tip skyward and began to chant quietly, his eyes focused on the pool before them. The familiar beam of light that the Keyblade was known for releasing shot upward into the air before sharply curving down and firing straight into the center of the body of water. Its surface gave off an opaque white gleam, and a gentle breeze came rising up from the puddle, billowing outward in every direction.

"This is a teleportation circle," Julius explained, "there is one in every world that still exists within the Realm of Light and the Realm of In-Between. As for where exactly on those worlds they are located, I know only a few for certain. I have been keeping myself from using them in lieu of my Gummi ship unless it is absolutely necessary. This is due in part to the fact that their activation, despite being visible only to those near enough, creates a reaction that almost anyone sensitive to arcane energy can pick up on, which runs the risk of attracting unwanted attention. I would also advise you to be cautious when choosing to travel by this method, because for all you know, you could pop up in the middle of a big city and cause quite a stir."

The older Master reached into one of his coat pockets and fished around for something for a few moments. Viscus saw him retrieve what appeared to be a rather short necklace, the string holding it together a solid black in color. And on the end of it was a silver diamond-shaped slab with a round, sapphire blue stone set within its center. Julius handed it off the to boy and motioned for him to put it on, the young man quickly obliging. Once that was done, the bespectacled man traced two of his fingers along the edges of the diamond, Viscus watching with wonder as the gem started to fill with a similar light to that of the teleportation circle. Within its glow, he could scarcely make out the number "4", though he was unsure of its significance. Afterwards, Julius guided him to stand within the center of the pool and wait for further instruction. The Master then dismissed his Keyblade and stood firmly before the lad he had entrusted with the necklace.

"Now, listen well, Viscus, because there are a number of things you need to know before you leave," he said with a serious tone, "And please bear with me, as the explanation is a bit lengthy. That jewel will allow you to access the other worlds' points without need for my assistance, but it is not without limitation. It has a finite number of 'charges', with one being expended each time you travel from one world to another. As you may have guessed, that number within the light is the amount of remaining uses it can afford you, so I advise you to return to this world if you need me to replenish them. To make sure that you can come back without fail when that need arises, remember the name 'Tranquil Fields' and picture this place in your head when you are making use of a circle. Keep in mind that as long as you are aware of a circle's location and have it on your mind when using the jewel, you can transport yourself to it without issue, no matter where in the two Realms you may be. However, if you use the necklace without thinking or knowing the name of a destination, you will appear in the closest place to your current position. An exception to this is if you _are_ aware of a place and choose to deliberately bypass it, in which case you will show up in the next closest world.

"Should you enter a world and its heart feels you would be better suited for another form so as to best aid it," he continued, momentarily pausing to make sure that the boy was getting all this and only resuming once he got an affirmative bob of the head, "then the arcane reserves within that object will have you automatically assume it, thankfully without consuming a charge, and it will be safely stored away in an extradimensional space until you come in contact with the world's teleportation point. As for why it can change you without using up the energy needed for transport, it is because that was its original purpose. Eventually, I devised a way to have it store the necessary concentration required to make use of the circles so that I would not have to use my Keyblade every time, and thus it better allowed me to keep my identity as an off-worlder and a key bearer a secret. Anyway, if such a transformation is not necessary, it will remain on you where it is now and you will have to be vigilant to make sure that you do not lose it. I have no idea how many worlds in the former camp exist, so be prepared for anything. When you are ready, take the gem in hand and say these words: 'Deliver me across time and space to where I am needed.' When traveling to a specific world, the same phrase applies, but substitute 'where I am needed' for the name of the place associated with that world."

Viscus nodded to confirm that he grasped everything he had been told. He was a little hesitant at going through with this, as he knew that he would be blindly stumbling about the cosmos. There was also the issue that his ability to jump from world to world was limited, and that if he did not remember to come back every once in a while, he would be stranded out there and Julius would have no idea where to find him. And woe to him if that happened while he was on a world where he would be forced to change form, since he would probably have to get used to that state for the rest of his life. No matter what, though, he was determined to find Verité, and if he had to search every world in the cosmos, then that is what he would do.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling to help dispel the anxiety he was feeling, the young man did as he was instructed and grasped the stone upon the necklace in his left hand. "Deliver me across time and space to where I am needed!" he shouted.

The water suddenly swirled violently around his feet and the light from the puddle intensified to the point where the edges of the pool created a visible border. His clothes began to be thrown about as if a powerful windstorm were blowing against him, and the sensation of being stretched out started to fill every inch of his body. Viscus grunted and closed his eyes, further shielding them with his free arm as the brightness became almost blinding. And then, just like that, the light faded and he disappeared from Julius' sight. The Master laid one hand over his heart and allowed the barest hint of a warm smile to cross his lips.

"Godspeed, my friend," he whispered hopefully.

-**Prepare**-

In a distant land dominated by sprawling green savannah, a sizeable gorge and a few bodies of water, there was a dark stretch of barren, rocky wastes and jagged cliffs littered with the skeletons of long-deceased animals, perpetually covered in fog and shadow even as the setting sun brightly illuminated the rest of the surrounding areas. It was upon one of the many crags that a solitary lion was peering down into the lower reaches, where clouds of steam and vapor constantly billowed upward from geysers and gaseous vents. The feline sported a pale grey coat that ran over every inch of his form save for his luxurious mane, his nose, whiskers, the underside of his paws, the tuft of his tail, and his muzzle, which were all an obsidian black except for the lattermost, which was a stark and snowy white. His eyes were a bright yellow, which seemed to glow in the low light of the surrounding area, and his pearly white fangs blended in well with the lips that framed them. The lion's body was large and robust, more comparable in bulk to that of a tiger, but still sporting the height and length typical of his own species.

Below his position, he was focused on another big cat of his kind, but this one was markedly different in both color and build, except for its similar dark mane and tail tuft. The rest of his body was a rich golden brown, though his muzzle, underbelly and digits were much creamier. His eyes were dark around the sockets, much like his mane, while the orbs themselves had bright yellow sclera that framed neon green eyes. Around the left of these was a thin patch of bare skin, indicative of a long scar. The fur on his chin was scruffy, seeming to form a goatee, and his build was a fair amount lankier and overall smaller than the one observing him. He was conversing with three grey and black spotted hyenas that stood by on the floor of the expanse, one of which was marginally larger than the other two with distinctive bangs over its face, another that had a face with more masculine qualities, and the third being similar to the second with the exception of crazed eyes and a perpetually silly grin, its tongue lolling out of one side of its muzzle.

Curious as to what they could be speaking about, the monochrome big cat bounded down to another outcropping, lowering himself down near the edge and cocking his ear towards the group. Bits and pieces of whatever it was they were discussing floated up to him, but not enough to make an educated guess, and so he jumped down to yet another ledge. It was there that he finally managed, albeit just barely, was able to pick up the conversation over the hissing of the steam.

"...but while it is true that the boy is now the heir apparent," the scarred lion said, almost spitting in contempt as those last two words came out, "I will not sit idly by and bemoan my lost right to the throne. I will have my nephew killed and, of course, shall do so in such a way as to deflect suspicion away from myself. Perhaps make it look like an accident, but having a third party dispose of him would work just as well."

The largest of the hyenas chuckled in dark amusement and flashed him a hungry grin. "And I'm guessing that's where we'd come in?"

"If I should I go with that option," the feline affirmed with an equally evil smirk, "which, depending on the child's inquisitive and vexatious nature, may very well end up being the case."

As the four shared a laugh, their watcher grinned wickedly at this prospect. Here was the soul he had been searching for, whose heart was filled with tremendous jealousy and spite. And what was even better to the silvery lion was that the other feline was willing to murder his own kin just for a reign that would be all too brief in the eyes of longer-lived beings. Seeing such darkness in another was delightful to him, and the fact that it seemed as though the smaller male relished the very idea of this misdeed made it all the better. He made up his mind then and there that he would have to make himself known. And so he did, leaping down to the knoll upon which the other big cat stood, who whirled about in surprise at the sight of another, much larger male.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" he demanded, crouching low to the rocky surface and slowly extending his claws, a nasty scowl on his face.

The bigger lion stepped forward, not intimidated in the slightest by the threatening gesture. "Now, there is no need to be so hostile, Prince Taka. Or would you prefer to be called Scar, since you seem to be resigned to that moniker following the acquisition of your namesake?"

Scar's expression shrank from anger to horror as he was addressed by his birth name, which no one had used to refer to him in years. Even more frightening was that it was coming from an individual whom he was absolutely certain he had never met before. And then there was the implication that this lion knew how he came to be called his current alias. He retracted his claws and stood up a bit more, attempting to maintain a composed front. "How is it that you-"

"Know these things about you?" the grey feline said, finishing the other's thoughts, "I have peered into the matters of the Pride Lands from time to time ever since you and your brother were but mewling cubs. And while I may be an odd sight in this place, I feel it is only fair to warn you that this will not be your last encounter with a stranger in these parts."

Scar raised one of his dark brows quizzically at the ominous message, his curiosity piqued. "Explain."

"Gladly," the other lion replied, a knowing smirk crossing his features, "you will find an animal that is quite rare in these lands very soon. I, personally, encourage you to follow through with your little assassination plot. However, the one who shall arrive will not be so keen on this, and he will most likely attempt to thwart your efforts. Do not let his appearance deceive you, Scar, because like you, he is more powerful than his looks would let on. And as for how strong he really is...well, if you were to face him in battle, you would not come out the victor."

The wiry cat narrowed his eyes, suspicious of both this stranger and what he had to say. "I see, then I will have to be vigilant. By the way, you never answered my questions before."

"You may refer to me as Nuru," replied the larger lion, turning his back on Scar, "and as for what I want, it really is quite simple: to have you steep this land in darkness. Should you require my assistance for this task, I will be happy to lend you some help. But know that it shall be indirect, for I do not wish to dirty my paws personally, nor do I want others to discover me."

With that, Nuru took his leave, scaling back up the same spires he had descended with bounds that demonstrated his own strength quite visibly. Once he was up high enough, he cast a look back into the deeps and saw that Scar had returned to speaking with the trio of hyenas. His gaze lingered for a few moments to make sure that the scrawnier lion was not keeping an eye on him before he moved further away. At the very top of the cliffs, he strode over to the other side and quickly worked his way down to the vast fields of elephant bone that awaited him. They rattled noisily as his paws tread over them, moving up into a sprint so as to gain some distance. There was nothing quite like the feeling of remains being crushed underfoot, though Nuru ran not out of fear, but a need to be alone. The top of the sun was now dipping under the horizon, leaving only the barest traces of red and orange in the rapidly darkening sky.

The moment he was able to find a secluded spot on the plains, he paused and laid flat upon the ground, one paw moving up to one of his ears. There was a small metallic device fixed just inside of it, and he prodded around for a few moments before locating a switch and flipping it with one of his retractable claws. Immediately, his hearing was assaulted by crackling static, though it cleared up momentarily. Soon, it was silent once more, save for a nearly imperceptible ringing that was subsequently drowned out by a calm and smooth, masculine voice.

"I received the feedback of your conversation, 'Nuru'," it said to him, the sounds of calculated typing against the surface of a keyboard following his comment, "And using your communication signal, I've marked the coordinates of that world upon the map of the universe you provided. Well done."

Nuru grinned and let his chest rumble in contentment. "I hardly did any work at all. All the same, the information I have given you should prove more useful when you decide to expand outward from your current world. Recall what I told you but a day before?"

"Of course," the one on the other side replied, no hints of doubt or offense in its tone, "I've always suspected there were other realms beyond the one I live in, and I'm grateful for the many pieces of proof. I look forward to having more visitors from the stars. Should I send you a small force to help expedite your operation there?"

The lion chuckled and hummed thoughtfully. "Mmm, not just yet. I want my young friend I spoke of before to arrive first. I will wait and see what he does before deciding whether or not that course of action will be necessary."

"Very well, I will be in touch if you need anything else."

Nuru turned off the communicator and yawned widely, folding his forelimbs over one another and resting his head down on top of them. It had been an eventful day, and he figured now was as good a time as any to rest. Just as his eyes began to close, however, he picked up a faint glow from in the direction of the nearest watering hole. A malicious grin crossed his muzzle, knowing that it could only mean one thing. "Hmm, a little earlier than I expected."

-**Change**-

Viscus felt himself floating in air, a bit dazed by the sensation he had just gone through. But he was given no time to savor it before he plunged into a pool much larger and significantly deeper than the one he had left. His instincts told him to paddle for the shore, but his limbs felt strange, and so he began to panic as he felt even heavier underwater than he had when he was dry. Fortunately, he managed to reach the edge of the water, pulling himself up onto land and panting heavily as he took in some much needed air. After taking a moment to catch his breath, Viscus picked himself up and firmly stood on all four of his feet. It did not take long for him to realize what was wrong with that process. He spun around and nearly tripped on himself, discovering that, for the first time in his life, he had paws. That and he smelled very strange, especially given that he was sopping wet. Viscus shook himself off without any thought and it felt as though several pounds had been lifted from him, but then he thought about how he had never done that before when he was drenched.

Trotting over to the edge of the water, Viscus waited until the last ripples of his recent disturbance died down before peering into the surface, the now rapidly fading daylight providing just enough illumination for him to see. His face had formed into a short and triangular black muzzle, while his ears, which were just as dark, had become sharp very large and wide, and had moved high up on his head. His legs had become thinner than they were before, with the back pair feeling noticeably shorter and causing his back to slope down. At the end of each of his rough-padded digits was a blunt claw, which he tested and found to be strong after an experimental drag in the dirt. Viscus noticed that the rest of his fur was a dirty greyish-brown with rows of black stripes, and that a long mane, its hairs white at the base and black at the tips, ran from the back of his head all the way to the base of his new and similarly patterned tail. From these observations, it was clear to Viscus that he had become a striped hyena.

Curious as to what he was still capable of, Viscus concentrated his thoughts on summoning his Keyblade, which subsequently appeared with the handle in his mouth, stretching his jaws rather uncomfortably. He tried to swing his head around, but found that his new anatomy imposed negligibly less restriction on its movement than when he had been human. He tested a second approach by sprinting a short distance and only lightly flicking his neck, which he reasoned could work against Heartless, but would not fair well against things more his size and larger unless he struck them in a sensitive spot. Sighing at how useless a weapon seemed in this body, he dismissed it and attempted to focus a spell instead. He was satisfied when he managed to produce a spear of ice that flew into a nearby rock and actually managed to break it to pieces.

_Magic and my new fangs and claws will have to carry me through this_, he thought, _and then there's the matter of providing for myself as well. If I remember correctly, striped hyenas are scavengers, but they can also run down certain animals if they need to. Fresh source of water is right here, so that won't be a problem. Shelter might be an issue, though, especially considering I don't know what's out here and what the weather could be like. Living like this for a little bit is going to be pretty awkward at first._

And while Viscus contemplated how he was going to tackle the coming days in this strange new world, he suddenly felt a cold shudder run down his spine, looking around suspiciously. His sharp vision allowed him to see further in the dark than before, but he was unable to pick up anything with his eyes. He swiveled his ears about and took a few deep whiffs, but no sounds or scents out of the ordinary were present. The feeling of being watched was neither new nor pleasant to him, but his senses were not telling him to back down. Whatever was keeping an eye on him was doing just that and nothing more, from what his instincts were telling him. At this rate, if it persisted through the evening, then Viscus knew that he was definitely not going to get much sleep, if any at all. His stomach rumbled noisily and he growled right back at it, moving off to find himself something palatable, the feeling staying with him all the while.

/\

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Post-Story Notes: From here until near the end of the overarching plot, the narrative of each chapter will be split between two different perspectives. These will be formatted in such a way as "Chapter 1, Side A: X" and "Chapter 1, Side B: Y" to indicate that both tales will be occurring at roughly the same time. As Viscus was the center focus for Side A, expect it to return to Verité's point of view in Side B to see what was going on with him while this was happening. Chapter lengths will be notably shorter for now to balance out the fact that the story will be hopping around between two different characters.


	3. 1B: Adjusting to New Culture

**Chapter 1, Side B: Adjusting to New Culture  
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Verité slowly opened his eyes as his mother's voice gently called out to him, rousing him from what felt like barely any sleep. The young man yawned and stretched out to try and better wake himself up, grunting as he felt a few joints click rather noisily and uncomfortably, peering over to one side as he felt a soft and sandy-colored blanket that had been draped around his shoulders fall down. It took him a moment to realize that it was the same one that had been a part of his bedspread back on Voluntas, which caused his mood to sink a bit. He remembered how Viscus had attempted to fight against the mysterious figure near the door to the world's heart and subsequently failed to defeat him, disappearing through what he could only assume to be some sort of portal. For a while after the survivors' escape, the teen had only thought about how he could have stopped Viscus. And even if he could not, he still felt guilty about leaving him to the mercy of that man and wondered where he could have gone now that he had disappeared. And during that time, he had eventually just shut down, leaving his father to take over piloting the Gummi ship while his mother had fished out one of his few remaining articles and stayed with him as she tried to ease him to rest after such a stressful experience. Truthfully, he had not needed much coaxing, but he appreciated her efforts all the same.

After rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Verité stood up and made his way over to the co-pilot seat at the front of the craft. Once settled into the chair, he took a quick scan of the systems, making mental notes about how it had been more than a day since they had left the atmosphere of their former world, how much energy the ship had left to run on, as well as the efficiency of oxygen recycling. Fortunately, it seemed that everything was in working order and because of the velocity they had gained during their flight from Voluntas, they had used very little fuel since then and were now coasting at a steady, albeit very rapid trajectory through space. He turned to look over at his father, who was maintaining the course and only occasionally tilting the steering controls one way and another whenever he felt the need to. The man whom the boy had inherited many of his features from had dark circles under his eyes, evidence that he had gone for quite some time without sleep. Verité sighed and put one hand on the right arm of his dad, expressing some concern.

"_Pap__à_," he said to him, "I can take over from here."

The older fellow quietly shook his head, showing the same sort of stubbornness that the boy himself occasionally displayed. "No, my son, I am still quite capable of directing this vessel. Just let me home in on this signature I have located, and once we have arrived at its coordinates, I will allow you to do the rest."

"Signature? You mean to say that you've already found a planet similar to our own?" Verité asked with a surprised expression.

His father nodded firmly. "I have. I ran a search through the star system analyzer Julius had pointed out to me when last I had met with him, and I was able to locate a world where humans are the dominant species and have a level of technological prowess similar to ours, though it is a decade or so behind if these figures are to be believed. We are actually very close, relatively speaking, and at the speed we are going, it will take little time to get there. My primary concern, Verité, is whether it would be wise to reveal ourselves and the Gummi ship, or if we should lay low."

"That's a good point to consider," the young man mumbled, his brow creasing as he thought of the potential consequences of just landing in the middle of a city, "On one hand, we might get unwanted attention from authority figures, assuming their government is similar enough to the one we had. But on the other, we have a cargo of people who aren't well adapted to living in situations that lack the modern comforts we're used to, and our food and water can last us maybe a few more days at most. And that's not even getting into the other factors that're likely present. I'd really like to stick by the whole non-interference clause and keeping the fact we're from another world secret...but how much of a choice do we really have?"

The older man said nothing more, merely returning his attention to the front of the ship. Verité took this as a sign of him communicating that such worries would be handled when they arrived, sighing in frustration and folding his arms up on the console to rest his head. He could hear the murmur of others gathered in the hull deliberating about the best course of action, some erring on the side of caution while others were advocating for a straight drop into civilized territory. Their volume started to grow as disagreements were fostered, and it all threatened to give him a headache. The only alleviation he had from it was his mother bringing him a bottle of water and running a hand gently through his hair. Taking his mind off of the bickering among the other passengers for the time being, he sat up and lifted the water to his head to cool off, huffing quietly out of his nose before twisting off the cap and taking a few swigs of the cool and refreshing contents. Closing the bottle back up, he sat back in his seat and shut his eyes contemplatively.

It was at that point that Verité reflected on the other results that had come from the crowd's most recent experiences. His former Master had been dying and chose to entrust his weapon to Viscus during his final moments using the Rite of Blood. Despite Gulbrand having warned them that it was something that was only to be used in the most dire circumstances, he had gone ahead and performed it, though the young man really could not blame him for doing so. He wondered whether the knowledge of the Rite was passed on as well, or if Julius, and possibly his apprentices, were the only ones left that they knew of that could execute it. His thoughts once more turned to Viscus, curious as to where that dark portal had taken him. Perhaps the figure had abducted him in hopes of extracting the secret of the Rite, or worse yet, intended to force Viscus to use it on him. But if that were true, Verité reasoned that he would have just gotten it over with earlier on instead of choosing to remove the teen from the scene. As much as he wanted to go out and find the guy to make him cough up answers, the young man knew that attending to the survivors was his first priority. Besides, he had absolutely no idea where to look for the figure in the first place.

After keeping a vigilant watch on the viewing screen for a good stretch, Verité's father turned his gaze down to the positioning system when it let out a loud ping. The numbers indicating his distance to the destination began to rapidly decrease, prompting him to adjust the front thrusters in order to gradually slow down the Gummi ship. After several minutes of gradual deceleration, the world that Mr. Capto had spoken of earlier appeared in the image on the monitor, steadily looming closer to them as they approached. It appeared to be a watery blue sphere, with many fragments and some occasional massive stretches of glacial white in the northernmost and southernmost regions, and varying shades of dirty brown, rusty red, verdant green, and sandy yellow on the remainder of the visible landmasses. A large silvery moon maintained a gentle orbit around the planet, and it was on approach to this world that the Gummi ship came to a complete halt some hundreds of miles above the natural satellite's rear surface. Verité nodded and turned to face the rest of the crowd, some of whom were just starting to awaken and wondering why they had stopped.

"Assuming they have observational equipment like our world did," the young man said, "Then we're probably safe from prying eyes for the time being. That being said, if we're going to survive this ordeal, then we're going to have to go down to the surface, as we don't have the luxury of waiting until everyone's backs are turned. I propose-"

"Hold on, who put YOU in charge?" one man interrupted indignantly as he stood up, his eyes bloodshot from a relative lack of sleep, "The others might be willing to follow someone like you, but I don't think they know what they're dealing with!"

Verité narrowed his eyes at the accusatory jab. "Oh, do tell me, sir, why these folks should not listen to someone who helped save their lives."

"Because, in a sense, it's your fault we're here in the first place," the fellow growled, a few others near him murmuring in what seemed to be agreement, "you and that other kid just had to have someone train you in the ways of fighting the Heartless. But did you stop to consider that maybe his presence, and yours as well after you two got those infernal weapons, possibly drew those things to us? If he had left when he had the chance, we likely wouldn't have had to deal with them! That foolish man probably intended-"

"I will not allow you to insult Gulbrand after he gave his life to try and save our world!" the teenager cut in angrily, one of his hands balled into a fist and trembling, his Keyblade materializing dangerously in the other and drawing a few gasps from the crowd, "That stranger he fought would have come to Voluntas regardless of whether or not my former Master stayed and took Viscus and I on as his students. After all, someone else tried the same thing eight years before, or don't you remember how my friend's family and many others were lost? It's thanks to Gulbrand that we are still here to even discuss this. He bought us some extra time to escape, and because of his sacrifice, Viscus and I were able to get back to our home and gather as many people as we did. If he hadn't stayed, not only would none of us would be here right now, but we'd either be Heartless or food for them! Therefore, as the most capable fighter here, as a person who only wants the people of his world safe and able to survive, and as the one who is most actively seeking a solution to our present dilemma, I suggest you back down before you get in over your head. And if you or anybody else here has a problem with that, then by all means, enlighten me on how you would do things differently."

The opposition pointed a finger as if to protest further, opening his mouth and trying to speak before just as quickly falling completely silent. The man lowered his arm and pursed his lips slowly, slinking back down the wall into a seated position, the others that had stood by in his defense doing the same. Verité snorted contemptuously and dismissed his weapon, shaking his head and sighing loudly enough for everyone present to hear it plain as day. He understood that tension was high and that it was only natural that some people would be sore and have misgivings about what to do or what could have been, but it aggravated him that they could be so callous in voicing their opinions, especially when it was clear that they had not thought of what the alternatives may have brought. Most infuriating was that they had attempted to shoulder some of the blame onto him, Viscus, and Gulbrand, although he felt that that should not have been so surprising, and yet it was.

Taking in several deep breaths to calm to his hot head, Verité once more put on a serious face for the people within the hull. "Well then, if there are no objections, I will continue," he said, "I propose that we find a large metropolitan area in which we can best blend in, preferably under the cover of night. But rather than a straight drop, we should skirt along the atmosphere so that we don't risk appearing like a flare in the sky. Once we are close enough, I will select a landmark and then depart from the ship while my father guides it to a less conspicuous location. We'll all meet up at the designated place at a later time, and from there we'll figure out how to carve a niche in whatever city we end up in."

"Oh, _mio figlio_," his mother murmured concernedly to him as she came up beside him, "Will you be alright by yourself? It is possible we may not be able to catch up with you for a good little while."

Verité bit into his lip at the tone of the one who had brought him into the world, reaching over to give her a reassuring and gentle hug. "_Mamma_, I cannot guarantee I will be perfectly fine, but I promise you that I will be waiting. Now, let's get this show on the road!"

As if he had been waiting his whole life to hear those words, Mr. Capto punched the Gummi ship into gear. The craft lurched forward and streaked from the moon towards the surface of the planet, though the pilot carefully followed his son's directive to skim across the globe, keeping his distance from the great blue sphere for the time being. Verité's eyes rapidly scanned over the map as it was filled in by the ship's computer, looking for any sort of place where they might have the advantage of cover. The system began to add factors such as weather, sunlight, and infrastructure, lights beginning to flood some areas of the darker side of the planet's landmasses. The young man's fingers hurriedly worked over the console, assessing each and every possible location that appeared on the monitor and comparing them carefully.

It was when he glossed over a place on the northeastern edge of what appeared to be a barely connected pair of continents that he found what he believed to be the ideal landing spot. A massive, sprawling city that had enough lights to make night seem inconsequential was currently experiencing abnormal weather patterns which caused a good bit of the metropolis to be hidden from brewing clouds. Verité excitedly pointed this out to his father, who nodded to him and began to dip the Gummi ship ever lower into the world's atmosphere, still streaking through its layers in a circular path to avoid being seen for more than an instant if anyone were to look up. The ship started to decelerate once they had reached an altitude of 100,000 feet, and the moment they approached half of that height, the craft was brought to a rest high above their target location. Once more looking towards the visuals, Verité determined that the storm was at its most concentrated above one of the city's tallest buildings, which was odd when he realized that the skyscraper was, at its highest point, slightly above what seemed to be the lower cloud line.

With this in mind, the teen signaled for his father to bring them in closer, swinging around in his chair to face the others. "Once we approach the 25K marker," he said as he reached into a bag of his belongings that his mother had brought next to him, "I want everyone to put on their oxygen masks and have my father open the cabin door."

"You mean you plan to JUMP!?" one of the others inside asked incredulously.

Verité grinned and brought the top of one of his fists to his chest confidently. "My former Master taught me many more tricks than just swinging around a metal stick and shooting fireballs. But once I make that leap, you all have to get a safe distance from the city so that you're not spotted. Land somewhere discrete, where the ship will be camouflaged by its surroundings. Make your way to this building after that, and I assure you that I'll wait patiently for your arrival."

The Gummi ship stopped once more, indicating to the boy that they had reached the altitude he had planned, and with that, many plastic respirator masks dropped down from the ceiling. The people hurriedly moved to their seats and strapped themselves in, affixing the oxygen masks over their faces before looking towards Verité expectantly. He took a deep breath and stood up, making his way over to the cabin door and twisting the heavy, rounded release with both of his hands as though he were trying to redirect water from a pipe main. Wind furiously began to whip at his face once he finally managed to pry the door open, one hand hanging on to the frame as he looked down towards the place he was about to go. While he knew exactly how he was going to go about this, Verité felt his stomach tighten anxiously, only barely noticing how his breathing had quickened, but his heartbeat had grown so blatantly loud and rapid that he could both feel and hear it thumping in his ears as well as his chest.

Gulping literally as well as figuratively swallowing his fear, the boy leaped forth from the cabin, immediately assailed by frigidly cold air. He spread out his arms and legs and assumed a belly-first position in the air, knowing it would cause his terminal velocity to be lower than if he were diving straight down. The knot in his stomach gave way to a pit as he beheld the slowly growing view below him, his clothes flapping noisily against him and eyes barely open as the winds tore at his plummeting form. At first, the free fall was somewhat pleasant, but that was before the pace of his drop began to increase exponentially, the image of the storm-covered city becoming rapidly more apparent with each passing second. Eventually, though, his pace evened out and he prepared himself for the next phase of his plan.

Verité brought his hands together, struggling against the currents fighting against him, and touched his palms to one another. "Slow!" he shouted out, a silvery light surrounding his form while a clock-like sphere enveloped the area immediately around him. His falling speed had decreased dramatically with the casting of the spell, making the sensation of his falling now seem more like he was hurriedly floating downward. A few more minutes of drop eventually guided him towards the top of the storm cloud just above the building he had spied on before, though he was shocked upon seeing it suddenly begin to dissipate. He saw that he was much closer to the uppermost floor than he had expected, but it was not as surprising as what he saw there.

A great stone castle was settled rather nicely on the roof of the towering skyscraper, its towers and walls rather pristine for something that appeared otherwise ancient in its design. It was as though it were molded into just the right shape in order for it to fit on the building, with only some of its crenellations jutting outward from the rim. It made him wonder just how much it would have cost to build something like that on the top of an already very tall structure. Much as he wanted to admire it from above and consider this point, he realized that he did not have the time for that. Panic shot through him as the effects of the slow spell started to wear off, his descent once more picking up speed as he hurtled towards the castle. Realizing he had barely any more time to react, he pushed his arms forward underneath him, then suddenly smacked them into his chest and shut his eyes only seconds before he would strike the stone.

"DRIFT!" he yelled, a slight prickling sensation firing through every nerve in his body. When he opened his eyes, he was less than his own height from the ground, lightly twisting in the air, but otherwise not moving an inch. The zero gravity spell was normally one that was reserved for fighting the Heartless, as it left them helpless and open to attack, not to mention it caused a small amount of pain to those under its effects. Using it on oneself was an unorthodox, if potentially lifesaving application, and Verité had only used it in this way once before to test whether it was even possible. He thanked whatever powers that may be out there that he had remembered such a thing, even if it was out of desperation. The boy felt it start to wear off less than half a minute after casting it, righting himself with a flip so that he landed on the balls of his feet with a gentle clap.

After taking a moment to get his bearings, Verité moved towards the edge of the tower he had landed upon and peered into the courtyard. From there he saw a few small pools of water and aesthetically placed rocks dotting the mix of greenery and barren, likely shallow soil. The trickling of a fountain could be heard, and modern lights were strung along the perimeter of the otherwise ancient-looking castle, with one wall carved out in steel that appeared to house a pair of elevators. As open as the main area was, the teen could spot numerous passages all throughout the complex that hinted towards a confusing navigation for those unfamiliar with the place. Most unsettling, though, was that aside from the sounds of activity in the streets below, the area was eerily quiet and nobody was present. And as he looked around, he saw scorch marks and blasted stone which indicated a battle had taken place. Judging from the fact some debris was present, it had to have happened recently.

The latter point was quickly discarded as the telltale ding of an elevator cab reaching the top floor rang in Verité's ears, his eyes quickly moving back towards where he had seen them. Three figures came out of one of the open lifts, one of them a tall Caucasian man with a well-sculpted face complimented by a finely trimmed goatee, lengthy brown hair tied back in a ponytail, and a pair of equally dark eyes, dressed in dark grey business attire with a formal black shirt underneath The second was another man with slightly paler skin, short blond hair and blue eyes that were framed by a pair of large glasses, wearing a midnight blue suit and pair of pants, as well as a white collar shirt and plain red tie. Verité knew that Viscus often kept a stoic expression whenever he was not engaged in anything, but even his friend's normal demeanor seemed positively cheerful compared to the stone face the man was sporting. The other person was an almost equally tall woman with very long black hair, chocolate brown eyes, and darker skin than her companions, though the teen watching them could tell from her face and the tint of her flesh that she was of mixed blood. She was wearing a red, long-sleeved vest over a black shirt and a pair of blue denim jeans, her black shoes looking somewhere between formal and casual. After the first of the figures he spotted stepped out for some unknown reason, the blond man was leading the latter through the courtyard, a bit of conversation passing between them at times, though Verité was too high up and far away to make it out.

While a drop of tens of thousands of feet was undoubtedly a fatal venture, one that was merely tens was not, so the boy took a jump down to one of the outer walls, hanging in the air for a few moments before he landed upon the stone, cursing softly at the discomfort his soles felt and the dull throb that traveled up his legs and spine. He quickly dove to hide behind the wall facing the courtyard, keeping his breathing as quiet as possible while he leaned one ear towards the direction of the other two people.

"Is there a problem, detective?" one voice, clearly male, inquired of the person accompanying him.

Verité held his breath and froze where was sitting, his back and arms pressed up against the wall. He had not expected one of the people to be a detective, and that made him wonder what exactly she was snooping around the place for. It was unlikely that they had spotted the craft that he had jumped from, but then he could not be too sure. What was strange was how suddenly the storm cloud above this location disappeared, and how it had done so completely. And then there was the matter that there were marks of a fight, or at least a violent struggle, littered about the complex, which he was sure the detective had probably picked up on. He just hoped that she had not heard him jumping down from the tower.

"That stone gargoyle up there," a female tone said after a momentary pause, confusion evident in her voice, "I could have sworn I saw it move."

A slight chuckle of nervous amusement came from the man as Verité continued to listen. "Yes, this old place is rather spooky at night. I've thought the same thing more than once."

Stone gargoyles capable of movement was something Verité had to admit seemed like a farfetched idea out of some dark fairy tale. But then again, until he had first seen the Heartless, he could not believe those creatures existed either. And then there were the many times that Gulbrand had spoken about how different other worlds could be, both their environments and their inhabitants. With these points in mind, Verité thought that the existence of living gargoyles in at least one world was something plausible. But the boy was not exactly keen on finding out whether those kinds of creatures were friendly or not. He had come to this world seeking a place for his family and friends, and so that took priority over whatever was going on here.

As Verité let out his breath and slowly began to shift away from his position, he was distracted by the sound of the elevator being called once more, chancing a glance from behind the crenellations to spy the detective walking into one of them and bidding the blond man goodbye, who himself disappeared down another corridor. Deciding that this was the moment to move around a bit more freely, he slowly stood up and eased into a crouching gait, making his way across the structure while continually looking around to keep watch for anything out of the ordinary. Once more the elevator rang and he ducked behind the wall reflexively, but was puzzled to see that neither of the doors he spied on had opened like he expected. He concluded that one of them must have opened on the next highest floor, as he could hear movement echoing throughout one of the passages nearby. Verité let his eyes scan the area quickly from every angle he could manage, only continuing once he was absolutely certain that nothing else was around.

Upon passing another of the many stairwells within the castle, he was given pause after the sound of scraping stone reached his ears, his heart starting to pound uncomfortably. Footsteps that were not his own rang through one of the corridors, and for a brief moment, he lost his cool and bolted down the nearest flight that he could find. All Verité could think about was getting someplace safer and less anxiety provoking, and so he took another side passage upon reaching a fork within the structure. But this turned out to be a mistake, as he came out on the other side of another clearing on top of the walls, almost coming face to face with a small handgun aimed at his torso. On the other end of it was the same detective he had been spying on earlier, a look of grim seriousness on her face as she held the firearm steady in both of her hands. There were hints in her features, though, that gave away her surprise at encountering him here, but it was clear her professionalism afforded her nerves of steel and put those feelings aside to deal with her sudden company.

"Okay, pal, put 'em where I can see 'em!" she commanded, gesturing to his arms with the barrel of her pistol, "No funny business; just put your hands up nice and easy."

Verité slowly did as she said, his arms gradually moving up so that he would not suddenly startle her into shooting him, palms facing outward to show that he was currently unarmed. But before the lady cop could fully apprehend him, a low, menacing and inhuman growl came from behind him. Verité turned his head just enough to try and catch the view of what was making the noise, and a small part of him wished that he had refrained from doing so. A four-legged beast with flesh as smooth as any man's and as deep a blue as the sky just before night fully came on stepped into view, its eyes a pure, eerily glowing white. Its face had a slightly elongated snout, almost like that of a dog, but with a bottom jaw that showed two of its larger fangs off quite prominently, and its head was adorned with fan-like ears that looked more appropriate as fins for some manner of fish. Just above its brow were two small horns that jutted out in the same direction as its ears, and three much larger spiky ridges traced down its spine. Its feet were like a cross between talons and paws, having the sharp edges and nails of the former while sporting the rough structure of the latter. It had a very short tail on its backside, which was the same deep blue on top, but a much lighter shade on the bottom, much like the rest of the underside and the back of the legs of the beast.

A gasp of shock from the woman was enough to tell Verité that her attention had shifted from him to the newcomer, and he certainly could not blame her. He quickly shifted into one corner so as to get out of the way of any potential crossfire, but he spied an even more appalling sight than what he was currently involved with. A tall and imposing figure with lavender skin, long raven hair and a humanlike face that sported two small horns above his brow had silently shown up behind the detective. It boasted a pair of large, membranous wings and stood upon the balls of two digitigrade feet, his hands human except for the sharp claws upon the ends. It wore only a brown waistcloth held up by a big but simple black belt with a golden buckle, and its eyes were entirely white save for a pair of dark pupils that seemed to regard the two humans before it with a hint of contempt.

The figure reached for the woman's handgun just as she brought it to aim at the other creature and snatched it up quickly, crushing the weapon in his grip and letting the fragments clatter uselessly to the floor. Now without a way to handle a being of such strength, the detective began to back herself towards the ledge of the wall, fear apparent in her breathing and occasional sounds of panic. Verité wanted to warn her about how dangerously close to the edge she was, but he did not get the chance to, watching in horror as she lost her footing and tumbled over the battlements, screaming at the sudden drop. The great being, having attempted to reach out for her just before she fell, dove after her, tucking its wings against its side as it dropped headfirst so that it would gain more speed. The other beast clambered up to the edge with its front legs and peered down at the streets below, its gaze seemingly fixed on what was now going on with the woman. Verité did the same and watched as the mysterious figure seemed to reach her in the nick of time, swooping back towards the side of the building he was on, though at that point, they were little more than dots that could barely be made out. Allowed this relief, the young man jumped away from the beast beside him and held up his hands in as nonthreatening a gesture that he could muster when it returned its attention to him, once more snarling in a clearly irate manner.

"Easy there," the teen said as he tried to reason with it while holding his ground, "I mean you no harm so long as you do not try to attack me. That... well, gargoyle, I'm guessing, is a friend of yours, isn't it? And this place must be your home."

The beast continued to growl at him, though it seemed to regard his actions, as it neither approached him further nor drew itself away, and its face gave off signs of some understanding. The two remained that way for several minutes before the sound of concrete being fractured distracted them from their stare down. The detective and the creature that had gone after her soon emerged from over the edge, the former with her arms around the latter's neck as it brought them both onto the wall. She dropped her hold and sunk to her knees, one hand to her chest as she caught her breath and was trying to calm her undoubtedly furiously beating heart. When the beast next to Verité started to menace her once more, the young man rushed to her side and glared at it to show that he would not back away if it tried anything. Both humans were surprised when the gargoyle laid one hand atop the feral thing's head and stroked over it gently.

"Don't worry, he won't hurt you," it said with a deep and powerful masculine voice, a brief smile on its face before it returned to its stony expression from before, "Now, once again, what are you doing here? And please, don't fall off the building this time."

The woman looked towards Verité and the two others before her, resting her chin on one of her fingers thoughtfully. "Well, I already introduced myself to Goliath after he saved me from becoming a mark on the sidewalk," she told the young man, pointing towards the gargoyle, "But so we're all on the same page, I'm Elisa Maza, a detective with the 23rd Precinct. I got permission from Mr. Xanatos to have a look around, due to an earlier disturbance. That's all I've got, so let's hear your story, kid."

The gaze of the three others turned to the young man with them, who sighed in exasperation at the situation he found himself in. "My name is Verité Capto and I came into this castle because I was curious as to what exactly was going on myself. I'm from a group of refugees made up of my family and friends that escaped trying circumstances, and it was at the foot of this building that I promised to meet them after scouting ahead."

Elisa eyed him suspiciously, not certain how serious he was being to her. "How exactly did you get to the top floor without the front desk stopping you or Xanatos finding out? He told me about no breach in security other than the men who attacked the roof."

Verité had to concede that Detective Maza was rather perceptive, and he figured that it probably was a strange sight to see someone his age in a place like this. Of course, the situation was no less exasperating to him, as was evident by a heavy sigh he let out upon pondering his lot. "Well, I can assure you that I'm not after this Mr. Xanatos, whoever that is," the young man answered, "however, unless I show you how exactly I arrived here, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. And as I'm not interested in dragging you into any further calamity than you've already experienced tonight, I don't plan on doing that."

As if to spite his adamant statement, the beast at Goliath's side began to growl at the boy, or so it seemed to him. It dropped onto its haunches lowly, ready to pounce at any given moment, before reacting the instant Verité flinched and shut his eyes. Rather than feel a crushing weight on his torso, he instead picked up a small swish of the air and looked behind him to see a black cloud of smoke disperse into scattered wisps. The beast was set upon by a small group of short, hunched creatures with bat-like wings, flaunting spade-tipped tails that were greater in length than the rest of their short bodies. Their forms, as Verité had expected when he had heard the unusual but familiar sound upon one's defeat, were entirely black, save for their luminescent yellow eyes. The thing that best described them, in the boy's mind, was imp-like, though he supposed they could have been miniature mockeries of gargoyles too, given the world he was in. All the same, Verité was none too happy with what he now found himself facing.

"Oh, this is just fantastic," he muttered in bitter sarcasm, feeling his face start to heat up quickly.

As if skydiving out of an interstellar ship from a height greater than the tallest mountain on this planet onto the roof of a building, dodging detection from said structure's occupants just to get a gun pointed at me, and getting surprised by living, breathing gargoyles weren't all enough, life just decides to throw some Heartless in the mix too. Because, as we all know, _that_ just makes everything better, heaping load upon load of hardships on the back of the guy who can most effectively deal with them. Verité thought about how his lot, by some divine prank, didn't have enough problems going on right now, so these stupid little gremlins just pop on in to say hello and snag a heart or three. He was _not_ in the mood for this after all the things that had happened in the last couple days. And as such, one could forgive him for not thinking with a completely straight head.

Too upset to remember his attempts to try and keep a low profile, Verité called his Keyblade into one hand and rushed forward, swinging his weapon across his front and dispatching a couple of the creatures that had attempted to overtake the gargoyle beast. His free hand extended its index finger towards another Heartless and let loose a concentrated lightning bolt, vaporizing the dark being with hardly any effort. To his right, Goliath lifted an imp in each hand and flung them into the nearest stone wall, shocking the teen as the sheer force caused the Heartless to vanish into trace bits of their distinctive black smoke. Elisa was doing her best to drive them away with her physical abilities, but even though she was able to keep from being touched, Verité could tell that she was doing next to nothing to the Heartless when it came to actually hurting them. He did not have to worry, though, for the same beast that he had helped just moments ago pounced upon them, giving the woman enough space to move more freely now. Verité took the opportunity to run, his legs bending down before making a leap, his feet lifting up and then skidding along the stone as he broke into a slide. During this unorthodox move, he tripped up a handful of Heartless as he swept his weapon from side to side, a couple of them falling to his blade outright.

His feet came to the edge of a wall and he kicked out of his previous maneuver, swiftly landing on all fours and just as quickly flipping up onto both legs once more. Both hands grasped the handle of the Keyblade tightly and he leapt into the air, the tip of his weapon pointed at a smaller group closing in on the other three with small streams of light rapidly twisted their way towards the very end of the Keyblade, Verité lifting his weapon above his head as though channeling a great power. The lights kept streaming into an increasingly growing sphere, which pulsed brightly and almost seeming to try and jump right off of the metal. Eventually, as his arms trembled from both the energy he'd gathered and the effort of keeping it under control, the young man pointed it once more towards the advancing creatures.

"Ragnarok!" he shouted, and the sphere of light surrounding the edge of his Keyblade erupted in a dazzling gleam. A multitude of energy rays corkscrewed away from the original gathering point, their spread growing wider and wider as their distance grew, until they suddenly twisted in their trajectories. Each went streaming after a different target, the Heartless exploding into brief and bright flares before fading out completely. In short order, the pack that had threatened Elisa and the others had been dealt with, and fortunately for the young warrior, they were just finishing up with the last couple stragglers. Goliath brought both of his hands down upon the remaining creature, his strength so great that the shadowy imp was instantly reduced to wisps. Verité swept his free hand towards his benefactors and they were bathed in a bright green light that he too shared. He felt some of the fatigue he had built up during the battle fade away, the aches in his thoroughly worked muscles disappearing as well. But now he was pretty tapped for magic, and it would take him a while to recover his arcane reserves without any restoratives on hand.

Elisa walked over to him and crossed her arms, an impressed smile on her face. "I gotta say, kid, you've got some fancy moves. But all that just raises even more questions. And then those black things...what are they? You seemed to show some sign of recognition."

"I, too, am curious as to your familiarity with these beasts," Goliath concurred, "I also wonder how a human came into possession of such an odd, albeit powerful magical weapon, and how he is capable of great physical feats not just for his age, but for his kind."

Verité sighed exhaustedly and leaned back against the closest wall in order to gain a little more comfortable of a position. "Okay, now that I've blown my cover, I see no reason to keep hiding anything now," he groaned disappointedly, "Thought it was kind of a stupid rule anyway. I'm what folks call an 'offworlder', meaning, plainly enough, that I'm not from this planet. More specifically, though, I'm a Keyblade Knight, a user of a mystical sort of weapon that's linked to the heart of its respective handler, and whose forms vary just as widely as peoples' appearances. And this one I wield possesses the ability to transform into a shield and reflect potential harm back onto my attackers, provided said harm isn't strong enough to overcome its defenses. Despite its luminous qualities, however, all that is required to use a Keyblade is a strong heart and a keen grasp of the nature of light and darkness within it. That said, it is just as likely for a drifter of the shadow to come into possession of one as it is for an altruistic, good-hearted individual. As for the strength and dexterity, when one obtains their Keyblade, they're pretty much granted peak human condition, though more experienced wielders are capable of superhuman levels of ability. Another standard of a user is the ability to cast magic, which can be learned naturally over time and through great effort even without having such a weapon. Having a Keyblade, however, greatly accelerates the process and increases the potency of the spells in one's repertoire.

"The Heartless, those black creatures from before," he continued, his free hand coming to rest over the center of his chest, "Are the product of hearts that have fallen completely into darkness. Of course, there is more than one way for a person to become such a monstrosity. Being overcome and wholly submitting to the internal negativity, which makes up the dark side of one's heart and emotions such as anger and despair, is considered the 'natural' process. People slain by Heartless also become Heartless, and it's the most common and prevalent method by which their numbers grow. It is most important to note that they're not only alien to this world on which we stand, but to this very dimension, which is called the Realm of Light. Long story short, the Heartless are denizens of the Realm of Darkness, which stands opposite, yet intricately connected to our own cosmos. They desire hearts so as to make more of their kind, and so by extension, are instinctively seeking out the greatest one of all: Kingdom Hearts. It used to be that the Heartless could only enter our realm through summoning or a breach in the planar boundaries, but at some point in the recent past, they just started swarming. Not only have their numbers increased exponentially, but my late mentor had heard whispers of the existence of artificially created Heartless, distinguishable from their 'Pure-Blooded' brethren by a peculiar emblem. None of the ones we struck down here were these 'Emblem Heartless', but I have seen some for myself.

"And," he hesitated, letting out a sigh, "now for an exposition on the _real_ reason I'm here, which isn't too far off from what I told you before, actually."

Verité launched into an exposition about how he had come to this world, starting from when he had woken up on the day of the invasion. He went into a reserved amount of detail regarding the events prior to the whole mess, as he felt it better to answer this part of the inquiry as promptly as he could manage. The boy recounted his battle alongside Viscus and how they led an evacuation out of their town to go find their mentor, who had tragically been mortally wounded. He then spoke about the fight between his friend and the mysterious robed and masked figure, and that the uncertainty of Viscus' fate worried him. Forced to flee from their world's descent into the Realm of Darkness, they had traveled across the cosmos until they had come to this world. From there, Verité described how he had jumped onto the roof of the building and had skulked about until he ran into Elisa, and from there, the rest of the story did not need to be told.

In turn, Goliath, seeing that the two humans before him did not mean any harm to his castle and were willing to defend it when those creatures arrived, began to relate the story of his life. Roughly a thousand years ago, the castle, named Castle Wyvern by its original keepers, was in a place referred to as Scotland, and the hill upon which it had built had contained the ancestral home of his clan. The humans in residence had an uneasy alliance with the gargoyles, as while some respected their drive to defend their home and the people by extension, others vilified them behind their backs and treaded carefully in their presence. One day, a horde of barbarians attempted to take the keep, but the defenders were saved in the nick of time by Goliath and his clan, though few people appreciated their efforts. The next night, after disciplining a mischievous trio of his subordinates, Goliath was approached by his mate and second-in-command, who had delivered news along with the captain of the guard about the invaders attempting to escape into the night. She implored him to take all the gargoyles and crush them once and for all, but Goliath went with only his old friend, the previous leader of their clan and his mentor figure, to hunt down these humans.

However, the two of them had discovered that the expeditionary force comprised very few actual people, and they realized too late that it had been a diversion to draw them away from Wyvern. When they could at last return to the castle, it was in flames, having been raided by the same group that had troubled them just two nights before. He had found the remains of other gargoyles among the wreckage, increadibly mournful and outraged that all in his clan, save for himself, the previously mentioned subordinates, his former leader, and the gargoyle beast currently in his presence, were dead and gone. The group had left their home and sought out the barbarians, finding the people of the castle in the process. The princess, Katharine, had attempted to escape during the scuffle, but was hounded by the barbarian leader and her former captain of the guard, who had become a turncoat and was ultimately responsible for allowing the invaders to sack Wyvern. Though he had had good intentions for doing so, having tried to spare the gargoyles, the captain had met his fate along with the other man after a brief struggle which resulted in them tumbling over a high cliff. The princess had nearly shared their demise, but had been handily rescued by Goliath.

Unfortunately, when they had returned to the campsite, while they did find all the humans liberated, Goliath found the last remaining members of his clan turned to stone. The magus, a spell crafter that had worked as an advisor for the princess, had cast the curse upon them due to his belief that the barbarian leader had managed to end her life. The counter-spell, however, had been torn out of his book previously and the page that contained it had been burned to ash, so there was no immediate way for them to return to flesh. Denyed his revenge for his clan and even a peaceful life with its dwindling numbers, Goliath had resigned himself to the effects of the spell as well, but not before having his "brothers" and himself return to the castle so that they could perch upon it in peace. The enchanted sleep had finally worn off earlier this very evening, due to the terms of the spell having been reached.

"The magus had said that the curse would be broken when the castle 'rose above the clouds'," Goliath explained, one hand sweeping out over the view of the city below him, "Xanatos made this possible by moving our castle to the top of this structure. Despite our joy of finally being free, the world as it is now is a frightening and wholly different place than the one we knew. Our gathering of knowledge and adjustment to this new setting will no doubt be our greatest challenge yet."

Verité was quite entertained by the tale he had heard, and the range of emotions that came to him over the course of its telling was great. He had felt the anger, the sadness, and even the occasional joy in Goliath's voice, and it filled him with sympathy for the gargoyle. Both of them had been forced to leave their worlds behind, and they both had lost comrades close to them. Whether coming from the past or from the stars, the two were in unfamiliar lands, but while Goliath had the remnants of his clan, Verité was still separated from his own group at the moment, and he had no idea where they had landed. Part of him wanted to go out and find them, but a much louder piece had promised to wait for them at this spot and thus he remained stationary, though that did not do much of anything to improve the anxiety he felt about the situation.

He was not given too much time to focus, however, as he picked up voices from a lower section of the keep. Four additional gargoyles had appeared working their way up the steps, Verité assuming they were the remainder of Goliath's clan. One of them had clay-red skin, a wild mane of white hair atop a two-horned head that held a beak-like mouth, and a blue tunic wrapped around its waist similar to Goliath, its overall build somewhat lanky and his gait rather noticeable from the way he was hunched over and seemingly burdened by his relatively massive wings and small feet. A second with olive green flesh was smaller than the others, his whole body devoid of any hair, eyes somewhat large for its head, wings attached to its arms in a manner not unlike that of a bat, and a simple loincloth tied about its middle. The third was taller and a bit more rotund than the previous two, though just as bald as the green one, while its head had wing-like ears and a noticeable underbite, its actual wings were even bigger than the red's, and it too was garbed very similarly. The final one was distinct in several ways. Firstly, it possessed not only a a head of long grey hair, but a beard of the same color and almost the same length. His skin was the most similar to a human's in color, being a deep tan, and his figure was best described as portly. While his right eye appeared normal, the left was glazed over and a rather noticeable scar ran vertically over the top and bottom edges of its socket. Three tiny horns were on each side of its forehead, and it was dressed in a leather jerkin and trousers as well as the typical loincloth the others sported, with a curved blade resting in its hilt against one the gargoyle's hips.

Judging from their voices, all were male, and they seemed to be talking about an incident in the kitchen. Verité was not sure he wanted to know, but their attention had left that topic alone upon spotting the two humans on the battlements. The quartet spread their wings and dove into the air currents off the side of the building, using the momentum to glide back upwards and come to land around the other group. Even regarding the sizes of each, Goliath was still clearly the most intimidating and the biggest, though the older-looking one was not too much smaller than the raven-haired giant. Everyone was hushed as the first of the four that Verité spotted sauntered over to Elisa and got a good look at her. After an experimental sniff, he turned his attention to Verité and engaged in the same procedure. Once he seemed to be satisfied with its inspection, he turned to the largest gargoyle with a quizzical expression.

"Are these new friends, Goliath?" he asked.

The teenager heard the detective mumble under her breath but kept his attention on Goliath. "This is Elisa Maza," the larger gargoyle proclaimed, motioning to the woman before doing the same to the young man, "and Verité Capto. One is a...detective?"

"Second class, NYPD," Elisa said with a hint of pride, flipped open her badge holder and showing them the decoration.

The older, tan-skinned member of the clan came forward. "What exactly does a detective do, lass?" he inquired, his voice carrying a Scottish accent with it.

"Well, uh," the officer stuttered slightly, reaching for an explanation that was not too wordy or over the heads of her conversational companions, "when somebody does something wrong, I find out who and arrest them."

Goliath quirked a brow at that. "Who says what's wrong?"

"Well, we have a justice system, laws, penalties, and assessments that the people decide."

"You mean the humans decide," the clan leader pointed out.

The portly blue member among them looked around and regarded Verité for a moment, scratching his chin confusedly. "So, uh...you never told us much about the other human, Goliath."

"Ah, of course," the addressed gargoyle rumbled, his gaze and attention moving from Elisa over to Verité, "He wields both spells and a powerful magical weapon, which he refers to as a Keyblade. After undergoing and completing strenuous training, he was named a master and carries the additional title of Keyblade Knight."

"What's that?" the olive one asked, eyes alight with curiosity.  
>But before he could properly explain, Verité was cut off by Goliath, who looked out over the edge of the castle to see the barest hints of dawn starting to creep over the horizon. "It seems that discussion will have to wait. The two of you should go now."<p>

"Wait! Will I see you again?" Elisa said concernedly, "I'd like to know more about you. Look, you saved my life, so I owe you. Let me help you understand this city. You need to know how it works."

The young man with them decided to cut in at this point. "Perhaps you can help me with that, Detective. And Goliath, I may not know much of anything about this place, but I can educate you on some of the advances mankind has made during your slumber."

"If we're to defend the castle," Goliath said, drawing in a sigh of resignation, "I suppose we need to be prepared for whatever's out there. Very well, the two of you should come meet me after dark over there."

The humans followed his pointed claw, tracing it to a much shorter and probably more accessible building's rooftop not too far off. The time of day made a lot of sense to Verité, as he was sure a gargoyle in broad daylight would suffuse the public with panic. But there were other problems that the lad had to consider. If his family came before then, he would have to see to their safety and finding a place that could accommodate them all. Leaving the castle and the building it was attached to was another issue, more so due to property laws, trespassing and the like than an actual physical ability to go. And as much as he did not like to be encumbered by all that, Verité was in no hurry to get his hands locked in a pair of cuffs and be hauled off to a hearing. He heard others talking, but his mind was so wrapped around considerations that it all went in one ear and out the other.

Elisa gently rested a hand on his shoulder and gave it a light push, the boy nodding to her and starting to walk towards the nearest exit that she was leading them to. They descended the stairs and went to the small alcove that held the elevators, Verité reaching forward to press the down button. However, the detective stopped him just before his fingers touched the surface, giving him a more serious face.

"Is there any way you can make it so that they don't see you coming out the doors and the front?" she asked him quietly.

The teen shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry, but I haven't quite worked my way up to learning the Vanish spell. Besides, even if I knew how use it, I'm tapped out, so jumping to another building and halting my fall isn't going to work either."

"Well, maybe we can find an alternate exit somewhere," the woman conjectured, "I mean, OSHA regulations typically require a place have at least two ways of being able to leave the building as quickly as possible in case of an emergency, like a fire, mostly so that people can get out reasonably quickly and so that another path is available if one is blocked."

Verité saw where Elisa was going with this and pressed the elevator call button this time without interruption, though he could not help but frown. "So we ride down to one of the lower floors, get off and then take the stairs. Wouldn't there be a security camera on the edges of most hallways? Or in the elevators?"

"Even if they had all that, it's pretty early in the morning, and I doubt that even the most watchful security is able to quickly and accurately scan every one of them," she remarked as the characteristic ding sounded and the doors opened to allow them access to the car, "this is the tallest building in the city, even if we exclude the recent castle addition. That'd be a lot of cameras, and one heck of a load of security footage to sift through."

"Right, I forgot that the everyday technology in this world is the sort that my parents used to have not long before I was born," the boy commented, pulling out his currently rather useless cell phone to check for any kind of signal, "which means I can't get in touch with my parents this way. I guess I'm stuck waiting around outside until they show up, which could be quite a while."

Elisa sighed a bit at her companion's predicament as the doors shut and their descent towards the lower floors began. "I get that you're worried about your folks and everyone else, but you should be looking out for yourself too. Maybe grab a cup of coffee or a bite to eat while you're waiting for them, or see if you find anything interesting in the papers. I'd like to stick around with you until later tonight, but I'm running pretty low on energy. Once I'm out of here, I have to head back to station to debrief, then run home and catch up on some much-needed sleep before the next night shift."

The elevator opened on the fourth floor, allowing the two to step out into the eerily quiet and rather plainly colored halls. The pair wasted no time in looking for the nearest exit, which was around a couple corners from where the elevators were located. Quietly, they made their way down the stairs, their footfalls muted by pressing some of their weight onto the hand rails and taking as gingerly of steps as they could without moving at a snail's pace. Elisa went ahead of Verité and gave the door at the bottom of the steps an experimental push, relieved to find daylight waiting for them both on the other side. They discreetly moved outside and trekked towards where the detective had parked her vehicle. She offered her hand to him, as they had never gotten a chance to shake, and he took it politely, flashing her as warm a smile as his anxious self could manage. Elisa stepped into her car and was out of sight within moments, leaving Verité to wonder about the situation that he had gotten himself into.

-**Watching**-

Once the morning sun had risen completely, David Xanatos took the time to speak with his assistant about a discovery that he had made. Security footage revealed the existence of the same detective that had been hounding him with questions earlier, but this time, she was in the company of a young man in plain street clothes. He rewound the tapes several hours, and it was there that he saw the thing that interested him the most. A strange, sword-like weapon that could be summoned by some form of magic, which apparently had the power to vanquish a group of mysterious creatures that had appeared in the castle. While he had been speaking to another of his benefactors. While the cameras were too far away to pick up any meaningful audio, Xanatos had something of an ability to read lips, but very few people knew that about him. It was a number of choice words that piqued his curiosity even further, such as "Keyblade" and "Heartless". Neither of these things were something that he had ever heard of before, but he was pretty certain that someone he knew had.

"Owen," he said to the blonde, bespectacled man that had brought him the videos, "open a communication channel to our friend in the savannah."

The stoic assistant nodded wordlessly and began to do just that, momentarily taking his boss's cell phone and fiddling around with it a little bit. An addition on the back casing that others of its model lacked contained a hidden miniature console, and a number of delicate movements brought it to life, colorful lights beaming out of the object now. With that done, Owen took a sheet of paper from a coat pocket and studied it briefly before patiently inputting the series of letters and numbers from it into the dial pad. Xanatos took back his cell phone once all that was needed to do was press the send key, flicking his thumb over the button before bringing the receiver to his ear. Momentary static crackled and hissed from the speakers until all was clear and a familiar voice addressed him on the other end.

"I'm not quite finished up here yet," came a deep and booming tone, "but my little friend I spoke about before has arrived, slightly ahead of schedule. I have a feeling that I won't be needing additional help from you for this after all...my targets are playing into my hands rather nicely."

Xanatos smirked in amusement, leaning back in his chair. "I leave it in your hands then. Or should I say paws, given where you are?"

"Blending inconspicuously into a foreign environment is key to a mission like mine," the other said with mirth, "Now, is there something that _you_ need from _me_?"

The billionaire took the time to look over the figures of his company and its subsidiaries before deciding to answer him. "Do you know anything about a weapon called a 'Keyblade' or about creatures known as 'Heartless'?"

If a grin's size could be measured within someone's voice, then the speaker on the other end was wearing one that went from ear to ear. "Best you open up a new word document on your PC, Mr. Xanatos, because there is oh-so-much information on both of those I can provide you. And with the consideration that we both are working towards something that involves the universe at large, I'm giving it to you without a single penny coming my way."

"Excellent."

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Post-Story Notes: With a new semester started and my first exam only a couple days away, this chapter took me a bit of time to crank out. As school goes on, my ability to continue will be limited, but not halted, as I also have things like papers to write. We switch back to Viscus' perspective for the next entry, and thank you for the views!


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