Kingdom Hearts Eclipse - Chapter 2

[Ðari]

((apologize for the late reply, glad you got around to replying TL))

The recruit had no true means or necessity to worry, kinship and loyalty as such was a mutual thing amongst the marshals. Abel's rambunctious nature for one was to be expected. Seven enjoyed this, genuinely it made him far less dull, serious, and polite when around his influence or erratic commentary. Practically speaking for the marshal, he referred to him in such a degrading manner.

As he'd mounted Seven's back, the timely old man held him up by the legs as his arms were slung around his neck. He could already see where this was going, if Marcus had a sense of humor he'd play along with Abel's jest and pessimistic merry making.

"Now now Abel. He is our comrade, new or old. We all carry a mutual connect amongst one another." he spoke sternly, but in kind.

He placed his hands on Abel's legs, and rose him up to mount him on his shoulders. Truthfully, he had this odd connect that a parent would with their child, even if their very child didn't acknowledge the parent's care for them at first. Seven's right arm pulsed, and he balled his fist. Standing at this end of the table, Marcus had finally taken a seat.

"Tell us about yourself, Marcus. What brings you to the Eclipse Army?"

 

[Eva]

[Haven't seen the movie in a while so I don't remember in detail how this happens ._. ]

"Ever get the feeling you're being watched?"

Letting out a clearly irritated sigh, Leilani lightly whacked her sister's shoulder, eyes focused ahead. "Don't go jinxing us, things are going alright." She told her, wagging a finger in a disaproving manner.

While it seemed like a joke, Aiyana couldn't shake it off--maybe because it was her first time underwater, or the pressure was getting to her head, or the fact that Daedalus even mentioned 'just in case'. There's no such thing as 'just in case'--if something was going to go wrong, it would. Especially considering the past turn of events, she was waiting for something to happen. Maybe the ship would start leaking. Or she would get seasick. Or maybe she'd somehow lose her earpiece. Or trip.

The feeling of her stomach rumbling made Aiyana feverish and nervous, and suddenly she was sticking to the group like glue. Of all the times to panic, this was definitely it. She definitely trusted everyone, but the though of being trapped in this hunk of metal with no way out except maybe through a pod was driving her insane, to say the least. It was very unlike her. Then again, she was just as nervous on Gummi Ships. On solid ground you can move and dodge and fight, but in ships you're stuck. You can't do anything. Anything...

Aiyana suddenly inhaled deeply, clinging onto her sister's arm for dear life when the Leviathan was brought up. Oh no. Her already pale skin turned whiter and she felt faint. "Oh no." She repeated, her voice a high squeak to say the least. "We...we could be attacked...?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Leilani, on the other hand, while also anticipating the worst, couldn't believe the freak out her sister was going through. "That's my fighting arm." She told her, wriggling out of Aiyana's death grip. Almost on cue, it came--just as Daedalus had expected. "Sometimes I wish you were wrong, just once." She told him with a bitter tone, dragging her sister into a pod.

It was chaos, to say the least--crew members immediately leapt into action, what with Rourke's orders blasted out every second.

"Get us out of here, Sinclair!" Rourke insisted, eyeing the creature.

Aiyana let out a scream as the ship seemed to swerve from getting hit, and once the pod had moved, she couldn't see straight. "Please oh please oh PLEASE let us make it out of here alive!" She was absolutely terrified, head in her hands. As she looked up, she watched the creature destroy the previous ship and almost cried. She hadn't thought about it until now, but who hadn't made it?

"Hang onto something!" Sinclair barked as she pod began maneuvering through the rocks. Despite the woman's piloting, the giant mechanical son of a bitch was very close behind, giving chase. Biting her lip, Leilani looked around, desperate for something. They couldn't sit there and do nothing, they were going to get themselves killed at the rate they were going. She racked her head, trying to remember what Milo had said.

"There! Go there!" Milo had suddenly popped up, pointing to a strange looking cavern. "Just trust me!" Without a moment's delay, the pod had done exactly as Milo had told; the underwater tunnel was filled with numerous out of place rocks and what looked like statues of some sort. Before anyone could guess at where the hell they were going, the Leviathan took one swing--the pod shook it off and kept going, Sinclair driving towards two mounds very close to one another.

Sure enough, the idea worked; the pods safely swam through while the Leviathan had attempted to crush through, only ti crash itself against it. To say they were safe wasn't enough, because at that point, the pod had hit air--the pocket of air Milo had been talking about. With a huge sigh of relief, Leilani clapped Milo's shoulder. "Good thing you know what you're talking about." She commented with a huge grin as the crew began piling out.

As everyone got onto dry land, Aiyana looked back at the water. Just like she thought before, it was Radiant Garden all over again--they were safe, but at what cost?

 

[OmniChaos]

"You're too kind for your own good, Seven," Abel mumbled, his lips pressed together into a pout. He laid his arms across the man's head and slunched forward, a look of boredom on his face. " I was just playing with the newbie."

A golden Guardian Reaver, his body upheld by two sets of legs, entered from the hall the king had long since exited, letting out loud clangs as its golden legs hit the floor. The Reaver's arrival quieted the large dining hall; everyone knew it was one of the Eclipse King's personal Reavers and dare not risk angering the tyrant. It approached Seven and Abel, its arms held behind its back akin to a butler. The image brought a chuckle to Abel's lips.

"His Majesty requests the audience of young master Abel and master Darakai. And yours as well, master Marcus." The Reaver spoke with a fine tongue, one that belied the fact that, at its core, it was still a weapon for killing and control. "I have been instructed to escort you three to his chambers immediately."

Abel let out a sigh, not one quite of frustration, but more of a childish sigh that sounds more playful. The former was his intent. The boy tapped Seven's head in a " Let's go!" manner and released his grip of the man's head, falling backwards and flipping over once to land gracefully on his feet. Abel jumped into the air, gathered wind around him, and began flying down the hallway, his arms held out to his side. The Reavers and the Marshals followed.

---------​

When Abel reached the King's chambers, he found them to be empty. No king, no Reavers. Nothing. So, the boy made himself at home, jumping on the Eclipse King's bed as if it were his own, laughing all the meanwhile. By the time the others arrived, a large vortex opened in the room and the tyrant stepped through.

"Very good," he said in a mild tone. "You have arrived perfectly on time." The king spared a glance at Abel, who had dropped back onto the King's bed and was panting heavily. The King smiled at the sight. "Most of you, at least."

The Eclipse King stepped from the spot he arrived at and approached the large window that overlooked his "kingdom", a cesspit of human life that had gathered to where they did not belong. As he looked down, his eyes caught sight of a man attacking a woman over a scrap of metal she has found. He ripped the metal from her hands and used it to beat her to death, blood covering the jagged metal. When she was dead, he embraced the metal greedily, a crazed look on his face. However, his face warped into a grimace of pain, a large blade--a Scuttler scythe--sticking out the front of his chest. The man collapsed, bleeding out, and a small boy, no older than Abel, dislodged the scythe from the man's body and took the scrap metal, leaving the man to die.

"Vultures," the King spat under his breath. How he hated them. "Damned leaches who steal and kill for our metal. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps these vermin who had traded their humanity for greed should be taken care of."

The king turned from the window and returned his attention back to the Marshals. As he walked back toward those he had summoned, he reached toward his lip, wiping at something in the corner of his mouth. It was blood, but not his own.

"Now, down to business," he spoke, his tone showing a touch of sternness in it. "I have summoned you here to inform you all that you will be sent on missions. Surveillance has shown that those who escaped from Radiant Garden have been spotted in three different worlds, leading to the conclusion that they have divided themselves into three different groups.

"Our objective is for them to lead us to one of their few remaining nests. As such, it would be in our best interests to speed them along in their search. Therefore, I am sending you three out to... 'motivate' them however you see fit. Avoid killing them for now, but make your points clear."

The Eclipse King turned his attention back toward the windows. "Are there any questions?"

 

[Orion]

When a basic camp was set up at the edge of the water, Daedalus had his own group set up their temporary hospice at the very edge of the small collection of tents. Their separation from the larger group gave them a touch more privacy, but he wondered how risky it would be to generally congregate with the group when a social occasion would arrive, a time to share stories of their past "Where are you from? How'd you find out about the expedition? How about that fancy arm of yours?"

Daedalus reckoned he would need only minimal information on the world - after all, they would not be immersed in the wider culture, but only an extremely tiny portion of it. Had they proceeded without the loss of crew, equipment and supplies, he guessed they would be fine and able to avoid opportunities like the one forming around a small gas fire in the centre of the tent town. However, with such losses, these people would look to raise each other's spirits, focus on other things. Daedalus knew that the specialised core of the crew had all been on the Icelandic expedition to locate the Shepard's Journal, and so already had a basic idea of each other. The same could not be said of the one they knew as Holtz, or his assistants.

As quickly as he could, Daedalus corralled his party away from the rest for consultation. It was generally accepted that knowledge of other worlds or the events transpiring on or between them was best kept from young worlds that had yet to discover such things were going on. He explained that although their presence there wasn't strictly in violation of such a principle, virtually anything they could do beyond the entirely mundane would by necessity point to it - magic, advanced technology and more. He further elucidated that if the Leviathan was just the gatekeeper to Atlantis, there were bound to be more of such machines in the city itself, though probably not on such a scale. He reasoned that if such technologies were hostile to the presence of the expedition, then to counter such a threat would involve using the magics and technologies at their disposals, thereby giving themselves away.

Looking over his shoulder towards the congregation around the fire, he continued, saying that any social opportunities that might arise could very easily lead any one of them to inadvertently reveal that fact. He also guessed that, if need be, they could trail the progress of the team in the Icarus. With all this in mind, he concluded - "We need to leave the expedition." Others were somewhat taken aback by this, but Daedalus quickly clarified that they would be at the ready to rejoin the group, but just for now they should part ways. Once they reached the city itself, which was no doubt of decent size, they could probably safely go about the city as they would, flinging around magic or what-have-you without risking that knowledge to others.

Eventually, they each agreed with this course of action, and an hour or so later they all moved to a dark, silent corner of the massive cave and boarded the running-dark Icarus. The next couple of days were boring by comparison to what they could have been doing alongside the expedition, but Daedalus assured them the freedom and covertness their decision provided them would outweigh any temporary boredom. However, he did wish it could somehow alleviate it. The five of them didn't ever see much of what the expedition actually accomplished because they only followed after the last vehicle trailing the convoy, and even then a couple of hours or so behind to guarantee their stealth.

The first - and admittedly greatest - moment of excitement and anticipation came when the communications bead in Milo's ear picked up on comments of natural light filtering through, in addition to the roaring sound of water flowing hard. Between the five of them in the cockpit they collectively argued and speculated about what would be on the other side for the next three hours, after which the last vehicle passed through the gateway into the illuminated and massive cavern. Half an hour later, hovering under manual control, Icarus slipped through that same gateway.

Atlantis was impressive, to say the least. Thriving, surviving, dying or dead, its grandeur was uncompromised. Sitting on a massive circular mesa, the disk-like plate upon which the city sat poured water out of all points of its perimeter, forming a perfect curtain of cascading water around its base. Even as he observed the city itself, Daedalus could only wonder what lay in those lower reaches. Like a wheel set flat upon the disc, the city of Atlantis was centered around a towering and densely-packed hub of impressive buildings. Such a collection of structures decreased in height and density going out from the centre, into what Daedalus equated to the suburbs. The various 'spokes' of the wheel jutted out to connect what looked like satellite towns to the main city, although it looked like over half of those had either sunken or been destroyed.

All in all, it reinforced Daedalus' notions. The city was simply too large for them to handle on their own, and he guessed the local population - if it existed still at all - would have enough trouble dealing with the expedition, let alone off-worlders. As much as they hated to, they would bug out and as quickly as possible seek numbers to add to their team before proceeding, if not let others take over entirely.

 

[OmniChaos]

Long after the man named Animus left the dark alleyway--after he left the char-faced Marshal to his own, painful cries--a man dressed in black, his face shrouded by a hood, entered the dark alleyway, whistling a happy, upbeat tune. He walked toward the crumpled Marshal, threatening to trample him at his cheerful pace. He proceeded to take a step, but halted, his foot hovering ever so slightly over the blackened face of the man that had once had too warm of a smile. All that was there now was a twisted, gaping mouth of agonizing pain.

"My, my, my," the man said, his voice a soothing angelic melody that sounded right, but also horribly, horribly wrong. His voice trailed off into a light purr that sounded inhuman. The man clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth twice, mimicking the sound of the swaying pendulum of a clock. "Had I not noticed you but a few seconds later, the bottom of my shoe would have firmly been placed onto that thing you once called a face. How fortunate you and your fates must be." The man tittered a twisted laugh, something one would hear from the most cruelest of monsters. "However, given your recent run-in with those keybladers, I suppose 'fortunate' is a fairly inappropriate term. Yes, in fact, I believe it may have actually been unfortunate, as putting you out of your misery would be an act of kindness."

The man drew back his hovering foot, placing it beside its twin. He repositioned his feet then squat down next to the Marshal, both his knees letting out a loud, unified pop. Like a child tracing the outline of a picture or intricate lettering, the man ran his finger along the black, charred skin of the Marshal.

"Who are you?" the Marshal managed to whisper, the very act of moving his lips seeming to drown him in pain. "What are you?"

"Me?" the man asked, almost as if taken back. He tittered his chilling laugh again. "Why, I'm just a man. A happy man, a joyful man. A laughing man, a smiling man." The man pulled back his lips to reveal his pearly whites, smiling like a shark who had found dinner. "I like last. You may refer to me as such, if you so pleasure. I mind not."

The Smiling Man wrapped his fingers around one of the chunks of burnt flesh and quickly pulled it away, a harsh ripping sound accompanying it. The Marshal let loose a cry of agony as blood poured from the fresh wound. The Marshal brought his hand to his face, trying to cover the growing warm spot on his face. The Smiling Man pulled another chunk of flesh from his face and drew another bout of blood and screams from the man. He tittered yet again.

"Come now, it hurts now, but it fades quickly," he said, his smile weakening a bit. He offered his hand toward the Marshal, like a devil offering his in an agreement for the soul. "Rise, friend. Time is short (tick-tock goes the clock) and we've still much to do with you. Our friend the king would be quite disappointed to see you sleeping on the job, so he would. Quite.

"No time for rest now, friend. Now is the time for revenge and the preparation leading up to said glorious moment of sweetness. Now quickly, let us go. You've doddled on for quite long enough. Quite. Yes, quite quite quite quite quite quite quite quite. QUITE! NOW COME ON! MOVE! WE MUST GO! NOW! QUITE! YOU'VE DODDLED ON FOR LONG ENOUGH AND TIME'S HANDS ARE EVER BUSY! TICK-TOCK! TICK-TOCK! GOES THE CLOCK WHOSE TIME HAS YET TO STOP! COME! COME! COME!!!"

The Smiling Man grabbed the Marshal's hand and pulled, dragging the man up with him as he rose. With his other hand, he steadied the Marshal's limp body, like a rag doll. Supporting the Marshal's weight, the Smiling Man dragged the man who had had the too warm smile away into the shadows from which he had came.

---------​

Don't worry...

Darkness. Black, flowing; a sea of stagnant oil that encompassed everything. Time, space, existence; one and all folds to it and becomes of it. A virus, growing and infecting and growing and infecting and growing and infecting and growing...

I'll help.

A ripple. First small, insignificant even. But it grew. The ripple grew (growing and infecting and growing and infecting and growing...), assaulting the sea of darkness, which trembled beneath its power. A light pulsed from its center, a purifying (evil) light that chased away the darkness, pushing it to the edge of existence and beyond. It grew (and infected), encompassed everything.

Growing and infecting and growing and infecting and growing...

And infecting...

They are the same, aren't they?

If you believe it to be. What is and what isn't is all that is or isn't. Light. Darkness. Me. You. Anything can be everything and everything can be absolutely nothing. But that is unimportant. All that matters is that its growing and infecting and growing and infecting and growing...

What is? The light?

The infection. But not yet. The infection comes second. First comes the wound. From the wound will rise the infection. Growing and infecting... But not yet.

I don't understand.

Don't worry. I'll help.

---------​

Ogen's eyes fluttered open. He was greeted by the sight of the dull, overcast sky of a world enslaved by the Eclipse King. A bell rung and startled a flock of birds, which flew from their perched location along the the bell tower in hastened surprise. They flew over Ogen, white specks across a canvas of grey. Ogen hated them.

As he rose, his body heavy like bricks, an intense, sharp pain stabbed at his chest and forced him to double over, grabbing at the pain. The boy looked down and saw through the large hole in his shirt a large, black wound across his chest. He touched it (tentatively, fearing the pain to undoubtfully ensue) and winced prematurely, the ensuing pain not occurring.

The boy pushed himself upwards, hissing a painful cry through his clinched as fresh pain rushed his body. Once on his feet, Ogen staggered forward twice before catching his balance enough to stand still. He looked around and saw Quel'loyen, unconscious, on the ground near where he had been. Animus was nowhere to be found.

Ogen walked--staggered--around, trying to get an idea of where they were, but not wanting to wander off too far from Quel'loyen, should something happen. He reached the side of a building and struggled to focus on a small sign, his eyes still trying to regain focus after the darkness (growing and infecting and growing...) of his sleep.

Wanted!
A Mr. "Honest" John​

Ogen knew there was more, but in his weary state, the rest of the words jumbled and blurred together into a massive mess that the boy was forced to look away from. He turned and staggered again, throwing out his left arm to equal out his balance. His next few steps managed to get him back to his unconscious friend, afraid he might stagger forward and step on him. He leaned forward, drawing breath in through clinched teeth, and placed his hand on Quel'loyen and shook him lightly.

"Quel'loyen," he managed. "Quel'loyen, wake up."

---------​

When dawn--at least the time of dawn, the overcast skies of the Eclipse King's rule still firmly blocking out any light from the freshly risen sun--came, their party had set out. Archimedes had been sent by Merlin the night before to search for the gummi ship, but came back with no sight of the ship. Black Bart solidified the owl's claim, stating he had seen the floating chariot fly away shortly after the dim, overcast sky turned to the black of night. As such, Merlin suggested they take the road to the crossroad city (or what was left of it, he murmured) and make their way to the next world on their path, adding: "Whether you call yourselves allies or enemies, you all face a foe that none of you can survive alone. There is strength in numbers and silly squabbling should not interfere with what must be done. My young friends, you would do well to stay together."

With that, the group set off, leaving Merlin to find his books and the inhabitants to their usurper king. Though it sounds cruel and heartless, their group had done all they could for the world at that time and trying to do more than their abilities would allow would simply end in death. Merlin knew it, Vanessa knew it, and the others (assuming they didn't already) would know it soon enough as well.

They walked along the empty road, with nothing but grass to keep them company, for what must have seemed like days, yet were but hours. Vanessa held Galom--Wolfscraps--around her shoulders, carrying the still unconscious man across the vast, empty lands that tie the worlds together, the other girl (Cal, was it?) walking next to her. The woman held a great deal of power in her reserves, but with the passing time and weight of the man, her reserves were quickly deminishing, and it showed. But she carried on all the same.

As what could only be judged as dusk began to set on, the party arrived in the crossroad city or, as Merlin had accurately pointed out, what was left of it. The buildings that stood were nought but husks, brittle and threatening to fall at the slightest breeze. The streets were bare, save for a random piece of trash that inched by.

Upon Vanessa's insistence, the group set camp in the middle of the abandoned city. Except it wasn't abandoned. She thought it might be at first, but after seeing something move within the shadows of the ruined buildings, she thought--knew--otherwise. The woman figured they would be left alone, but slept with one eye open just in case.

When the sun's light brightened the overcast skies enough to see, the group set off once more, taking the southern route at Vanessa's lead. With the man still on her shoulders, Vanessa and Cal put the ruined city behind them and set out again for the great, empty lands. They continued on for near an hour before Vanessa felt the man stir and set him down (at her relief) to see if he would awake.

 

[FairSovereign]

Radiant Gardens lie in ruins, a fact which brought him considerable disquiet, even seven days after the fact. He heard the news from a distraught member of the rebellion, or rather, of the former rebellion. There really was no rebellion force any longer. The Eclipse King, may his hide rot in hell for all eternity, saw to that. The rebellion escapee had taken refuge on a world Everask had happened to pass through, and when the boy had found him, he got all the information he could out of his former ally. Everask had arrived in the Gardens just four days prior to its fall, and he had remarked on the doomed atmosphere of the place. The light, or perhaps the darkness, he couldn’t be sure, warned him of impending danger, and yet, Everask still decided to go. He needed to see the rebellion force for himself. His hatred for the Reavers and their accursed masters drew him there. Upon the moment of his arrival he’d been treated with something akin to scorn. Due to the circumstances of his empowerment, his evident corruption could be felt by all, and few saw fit to trust him. Some even went as far as to report him, or call him a Marshal in disguise. If they could only be aware of the depth of his hatred for the King and his Marshals, they would never have made such foolish accusations.

Darkness and nothingness warped and twisted around him as he strolled down one of the many paths between worlds. His feet stepped onto nothing solid and yet, he moved forward diligently, and fluidly, as if walking on a surface of stone. He knew very little about the physics of the in-between realms, or how he managed to access them, but walking them had become something next to instinct for him. In the seeming endlessness of the passage, he typically felt an unfathomable loneliness. It was a sort of awareness that there were no other beings in this pocket realm in which he inhabited. Today however, there was something traversing the dark with him, A presence that felt as alien to that place as he himself. Stopping his progression, he looked about him warily. Turning in place he waited for something to appear, preparing to summon his blades. Then, without warning, a small luminance appeared before him. It hovered motionless ahead of him for a moment, and then it began to take shape, forming itself into a humanoid figure, almost like that of a woman. In a voice filled with a boundless power and wisdom, it spoke to him.

“Solah. Child of both realms. You are in great peril.”

“Who are you?” Everask said briskly. Ignoring the question, the woman walked towards him, until she was little more than three feet from him.

“You stand upon the edge of a great chasm. Below you, is the endlessness of the abyss, behind you, the haven that is my light. You are at risk of stepping off.” In Everask’s mind’s eye, he could see himself falling into the gapping maw of a being composed of endless void matter, with eyes darker than any mortal being could fathom. Everask shook off the image, like a dog shaking off water.

“Bullshit, the darkness is under my control.”

“Are you so naïve, child of both realms, that you cannot see when you have been played?” Everask scowled.

“I AM in control!” The woman smiled at Everask. It was the smile of a mother to her young and stubborn toddler.
“And was it truly your own will to abandon the rebels in their fight against the vile one? To abandon them in their time of greatest need?”

Everask paused. “That…I had to leave them. They were doomed from the beginning. That world was doomed, from the beginning.”

“Perhaps, but you could have saved many lives, lessened the damage done had you remained.”

“My presence would have changed nothing.”

“It is a mark of denial, to comfort one’s self with lies.” Everask walked up to the woman until he was face to face with her.

“What do you want from me?! The rebellion. Is. GONE! Gone, don’t you understand that?” Everask’s clenched fist shook with fury. “Hundreds of keybearers and other powerful individuals, eradicated with hardly any effort on the part of the Eclipse King and his army of fools. I am powerful, but alone I can do nothing against an army.”

“But you are not alone, Child of Both Realms. The most skilled, lucky and powerful members of the Rebellion army yet remain, and they could use your help.” Everask looked up; a glimmer of what may have been hope showing in his eyes.

“Truly?” Everask asked, barely daring to believe it. The woman composed of light placed a hand upon his cheek and the warmth of it, the pure goodness of it brought a tear to his eyes that he had not approved of.

“Go to them, my child. This path will take you to where you can do the most good.” A door comprised of golden light manifested before him in the darkness.

“Wait, you never told me who you were…”

“Perhaps you will find out in time. However, take comfort in the fact that I am watching over you. I will guide you, in those times where the darkness proves most tenacious.” With that, the woman planted a kissing upon his forehead, and suddenly, he was very much reminded of his mother. The woman then vanished, her presence lingering with him, and the door of light resting before him. With a will, he stepped forward into the glaring, golden white luminescence.

~***~​

Everask stepped out of the light onto a street of old cobblestone. There was a thin coat of grime upon the smooth stones, making the ground somewhat slick and unpleasant to walk upon, even for Everask’s booted feet. It seemed that he had exited the portal to appear down a long, uninhabited alleyway, which was good, as a door comprised of light manifesting in the midst of any centre of commerce would draw much unneeded attention.

Everask looked up and held back a small hiss as he saw the grimy, obscured sky that could only indicate the presence of the Eclipse Kings forces. Everask pulled up the hood of his long jacket, and made a significant effort of will to suppress any aspect of his power that he could so as not to alert the Reavers. His white hair covered his eyes, obscuring his face and making him harder to recognize, though he wasn’t too worried about some Marshal identifying him. He had struggled long and hard to ensure no member of the Eclipse King’s forces had ever, or would ever see his face.

As he began to walk and he exited the alley, his eyes fell upon a wanted poster seeking some fellow by the name of “Honest” Jon. Everask frowned and moved to inspect the post more closely when he saw them, and he knew somehow that these were the people he was here to see, a boy, younger than he, shaking another man feebly on the street. He vaguely recognized the two of them from his time in the Gardens, and upon seeing them, a series of emotions lashed out in him: Joy, relief, sorrow, and finally, concern. They were in terrible shape, and they needed help. Though he wasn’t too savvy about the territory, he could offer his power and ward off the forces of the King. Besides, an extra sword was always helpful.

Approaching the two individuals, he knelt down next to the unconscious man, a scholarly looking individual with black hair streak with silver. He seemed fairly well along in his years, and Everask wondered how much strain his body could truly handle. Looking to the young lad next to him, whose presence caused something to prickle in the back of his mind, and then down at the unconscious man, he sighed. “You guys are in more need of my help then I had feared.”

 

[Ordeith]

The world shifted around a cocoon of light, which disappeared with a sigh, leaving Animus alone.

Then the Marshal's strangled moan rattled through the alleyway.
Animus winced at the noise. Well, not entirely alone . . . Poor chap.

He turned to look upon a smoldering heap of a man, once thought a corpse. The sight was gut-wrenchingly pitiful: The fiber of the Marshal's clothes had melted, fusing with charred skin to the point that it could no longer be removed. His skull was a fluid mess, with patches of hair floating like islands in a sea of tar. From a distance, it could hardly be distinguished from the asphalt of the street.

Even the scholar-turned-assassin, who had pledged his life to killing, pitied the Marshal. Not even the most despicable wretch deserved such a fate. "Easy there, friend," he muttered. "Now remember. You started this shenaniganery, so my pity is purely instinctual . . . Be thankful that I'm human."

Animus looked over the dying man, whose eyes pleaded mercy.

He retrieved a metal stake from his bag, and carefully gauged the exact point of entry. Though he could kill artfully, mercy killing was not his strongest suit. The Marshal could prove to be a very messy target, and could possibly die in even greater pain. Easy there, friend . . . Easy . . .

Animus knelt, raised the spike—then stopped.
Unbelievable . . . Incredible!

He could feel it, the parasite Umbra. The scent of darkness tugged at his heart, urging him onward. It trailed into the air—across the stratosphere, into the Lanes Between. Whether the creature realized it or not, it had left a trail of bread crumbs for hungry Animus to follow.

The assassin grinned in triumph, while the Marshal's eyes pleaded below. Suddenly, the charred heap-of-human seemed a distraction. The light of discovery once again called, and the Marshal was a distracting stain. Animus rose to his feet, probing the air for signs of Umbra. He dropped the stake at the Marshal's side; with a tortured groan, the man instinctively grabbed for it.

The scholar nodded encouragingly, and left on his trail with new enthusiasm. That should suffice, I think.
"Keep at it, good fellow," he called back. "If you can end it, you're the strongest person I've known!"

Animus stepped into the Dark Corridors, shutting the odor of burnt flesh behind him. The creature and his boy were calling, to be sure—but first, DeCavis had some errands to run. Seven days of wandering had left his projects unattended.

_______________________________________________________​

Of all the worlds he'd seen, none could match the Graveyard's sunset.

The passionate flare of the sun pierced cloud and dust, reflecting off the red rocks, and glinting off the many blades of keys. It illuminated the entire plateau, the rough surface of which was turned to crimson glass in the sunset. Visibility was next to nil—but who dared to complain against such beauty? Who would raise a voice to break the holy silence? Animus squinted through his glasses, and adjusted his scarf over his mouth. For a moment, he merely basked in the brilliance of the rocky desert.

This world, he thought, was the ultimate monument that his work sought to emulate. No single artist could claim responsibility for this masterpiece—yet it was unified by the fiery wash of the sunset. The differing styles, motifs, and melodies were all brought together by that unifying sun. The sun was the red eye of a conductor, watching over the players of his orchestra. Each, in their own way, played into the symphony as instructed by the sun. So many keys . . . Such a mighty ocean of keys . . .

Every time he saw it, Animus was awestruck like the fresh scholar he once was.
Here, he thought, was the essence of his work—on a divine scale. A monument of death.

So many keys, awash in red. The universe would never be the same, with those keys playing their song. That is the reason for all of this, Animus thought. Every murder serves a higher purpose—for when the Keyblade leaves the universe, and Kingdom Hearts lies open to one man . . .

He sighed, watching a single black point disrupt the crimson blaze. . . . God will exist.

_______________________________________________________​

"What have you learned in the past seven days, Little One? Don't speak—show. Remember, speaking is not for you." Animus watched the slim little creature turn its head in confusion, then stare at its feet with some discomfort. It seemed apprehensive, almost ashamed.

Its master raised an eyebrow. Well, that's certainly a new development . . .

Little One gripped the edges of its coat—then stopped, realizing that had already crossed some boundary. It lowered its slim hands to its sides, and let them hang there. Finally meeting its master's gaze, it looked at Animus with flickering reddish eyes, quelling its previous fear. The childish figure made a quick clenching motion with its hand, then forcefully moved its fist back and forth. Animus nodded, encouraging Little One to continue.

The figure shrugged, again showing some signs of uncertainty; apparently, it had no more to tell. Animus knew that Little One would greedily soak up any memory it formed. This shrug was a blatant lie—the sort that only a very young child would attempt. The "parent" said nothing. So you can lie to me? This test isn't boding well for you, Little One.

Animus rose, then started towards the back of the cave.
He disappeared into the shadows, and returned with a limp form under his arm.

"Have you been touching any of these, Little One?" he asked. "Answer me." He fixed his eyes upon the androgynous creature, which seemed to display something like fear.

Another unwanted development. Hm. I was away for too long!

The cloaked, red-eyed being called Little One stood at the mouth of the cave, staring at its master in silence. It shied away from the lifeless shape under its master's arm. Then, slowly, its head nodded up and down in assent. Animus replied by shifting the Replica doll under his arm—grabbing its shoulder with one hand, and holding its blank face in direct line with Little One's.

"This thing," he said, "is one of the Blanks. I've told you, Little One, that you were once like this. But you aren't like this anymore, and this thing isn't like you. The Blanks are never to be touched. If you touch them, you will die, and another Blank will take your place. Understood?" The sad creature nodded.

"Very good. Go fight, as you were. Forget about these sad things . . . "
Animus snatched up the blank doll, then walked back to his workshop.

Little One exited, ready for another wave of summoned Purebloods from the Realm of Darkness.

_______________________________________________________​

When I first came across these things, they were like a beacon of hope. A lifeline, I thought.
So many possibilities can be found in one blank slate . . . except for a blank slate.

Whether I try being stern, or nonchalant, or callous—it seems inevitable that they develop an identity. None of them can remain empty for very long, before my seed of darkness begins to grow roots, which latch onto every memory they can grasp. I might have theorized it a while ago, but I'm still amazed by how a heart can grow from so little.

And the heart, however stunted, needs to grow.
Every Replica thus far has proven that fact—so how to use it?

This program needs to adapt, and alter its course.

How to use this?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I need memories. Old, ripened ones would be best, I think.

 

[Professor Ven]

His mind wandered in his drained slumber. Quel'loyen felt Ogen shake him, call him to the waking world. Only a moment, dear one. Then his ears leapt at the sound of an approaching stranger, their voice calling Tal'shendar's body out of its rest as he quickly rose, his gauntleted hand coming to meet the stranger's throat. I do not know this voice, nor the being it emanates from. Quel'loyen's glared intensely at the child in front of him, prepared to integrate this foolish would-be assassin into the nothingness about them.

"Are you a Marshal, boy?" The Tal'shendar's voice was a lethal whisper. "You would dare encroach upon me and mine? T'would be your final mistake on this wasted and dead earth, boy, to cross blades with one such as I." The gauntlet shifted back, and Quel'loyen folded his arms behind his back. "If you are a friend, then come. Otherwise, tread lightly." He turned to Ogen, and continued on to have a better look about the area, noting the WANTED poster for "Honest John."

I have no memory of this place.

__________________________________________________


Fingers drummed atop what had been a home's table for holding food, its simple woodwork a painting of its crafter's skill. Chilling milk-white, ever-glowing eyes looked down into the twenty-four and a half-inch sphere that sat of its own accord upon the flat surface. Pools of murky colors swirled about as the Sarz'tien peered into its depths, searching. Then, Sei'dar lifted his wasted, thin fingers, grasping the Orb at either side of it.

Pitch-black darkness only showed to his mind's eye, and then, the veil lifted. He saw a crew of hundreds in a strange, broken city, surrounded by fire and water; another, far beyond, his eyes greedily lingered upon a lone man in a wasteland, surrounded by a thousand thousand sleepers; for a moment, he saw the pitter-pattering of rain upon exhausted bodies near some dead or dying dragon-like creature - abruptly a blue aura obscured his vision.

And lastly, he found where that strange aura of light had gone, that powerful essence. The small village held only a minute, blue star within its sleepy depths, a pair of boys walking alongside an old man. One reeked of darkness, the other an odd mixture, if that were even possible. However, his heart lurched in its cavity when Mirkhan Sei'dar beheld the face of the last.

It cannot be. His eyes lingered for one final moment, and the Sarz'tien released the Orb, grasping the top with a hand. It shrunk to the size of a child's marble, and he pocketed it with a deft hand. Gripping the ever-tolling staff in his right hand, he strode from his chosen room of use in the Castle of the Eclipse King, boot-steps sure and true, guided by the eternal music.

He wanders the Worlds, spreading his influence, his Light! He will doom the Worlds if left unchecked!

The Sarz'tien entered the Eclipse King's Chambers as His Majesty purloined the already-briefed Marshals for questions; Sei'dar had heard the majority of what was said whilst arriving through the hallway that lead to this room. He leaned on his staff silently, preferring that the Marshals in front of him disperse and go about their ordered duties - Sei'dar would rather not speak with these rejects of their societies - he aptly awaited the King's attentive glance, as the staff serenaded him with its sweet, harmonious lulling.

 

[FairSovereign]

Everask allowed the man's hand to close around his throat, though if the tightness of the man's grip did anything to discomfort the boy he didn't let it show on his face. His mind was already planning out a number of escape maneuvers, and his keyblaes were a mere thought away from forming, though he hoped he wouldn't have to actually summon them. The man's voice was death; the breath of desperation and hatred hissing out the promise of a swift and painful end to all those who sought to harm him and his own. Though there was nothing like fear in Everask's eyes, he would have been a fool to discount this man's strength of will, and there was no telling just how skilled he really was. Everask couldn't help but smile at the man however. At first he had believed that this older gentlemen would be a hinderance. It was more than a little relieving to be wrong.

"So you are awake. Good. I am a friend, and if you would let go of me, I will introduce myself."

The man's hand pulled away from him and he admitted that his neck was feeling a tad tender after that near strangulation. Raising his black, corrupted hand he rubbed his neck. "Impressive grip you have there old man." Everask flexed his corrupted inhuman arm, the skin having a texture and color akin to the carbon black of a burnt campfire log. His nails were a bloody crimson, much like those of a heartless in fact. After a moment he put the hand into a pocket and his face morphed into kindly expression, though it was made somewhat grim by the aged look of Everask's eyes.

"I am Everask Solah. I am a keybearer, and I have been sent to protect you." He gave a slight bow.

"Though it may be difficult to trust a stranger, I assure you that I am your ally. I hate the Eclipse King more than it is possible to describe. That man has taken everything from me save for my purpose, and that is to bring peace and balance to the worlds once again. The light has sent me to you for a reason and it has never led me astray before."

Everask looked about. "So, now that this is settled, do you have any idea where we are?"

 

[OmniChaos]

"We can trust him," Ogen said, his eyes set sturdy in Quel'loyen's. The boy's eyes held a certain intensity of one much old than himself; an intensity, he was sure, that the old keyblade wielder knew of very well himself. But those eyes were not his own. They weren't the eyes of the uncertain, pitiful boy whose sad, little, memory-voided life had been thrown upside down. Not even close. "Umbra said... He said we can trust him. So we can trust him, Quel'loyen."

Ogen wasn't quite sure of this himself, having only met him. He didn't feel uneasy around him, as he had with the Marshal from what almost seemed an eternity now, but the boy had grown a bit more untrusting as of late, especially with King Louie's recent betrayal. That betrayal still stung the boy.

However, he did trust Umbra and trusted his judgement as he would a big brother. He knew Umbra's only concern was his well-being and would do nothing that even risked compromising it. Furthermore, Ogen knew Umbra, whether he trusted the new person or not, would keep a firm eye on him and would act at the first moment trouble even peeked its dirty, little head. Because of that, Ogen felt at ease. At least somewhat.

"But as far as where we are..." Ogen bit his lower lip and turned away, staring at something--or nothing--far off in the distance. "I can't say I know. Not even Umbra knows where we are. It feels sorta familiar, but that's all."

---------​

When none of the Marshals spoke up--though the King suspected some of them might have been holding their tongues a bit--the Eclipse King smiled. As he did, he noticed the recent addition, Sei'dar, enter his chambers and knew the man sought his audience. Very well, sir. If it is what you seek, than an audiance is what you shall have.

"Very well, then," he spoke, nodding slightly. "If you have no questions, then I believe our business is done." The Eclipse King motioned behind the Marshals. "After all, it seems one has come seeking me and keeping him waiting would be rude."

Abel, noticing the pressing tone in the King's voice, rose from the bed and headed toward the door, taking the other Marshal's hands in his and forcing them with him. As he passed, the Eclipse King noticed the small boy give the man Sei'dar a dark look and could tell the boy seemed to care very little for the man. When they had left the room, the tyrant turned his attention to the man. "Well now, what can I do for you?"

---------​

"I've been watching you... watching you... watching you... I've been... been... watching you... watching you... Animus DeCavissssssssssssssssssssssss..."

A figure cloaked in shadows materialized from the darkness. A hood shrouded the man's face--part of it, at least. His mouth, twisted into joyful grin of pleasure and amusement, showed his teeth, which sparkled vividly. The man popped one of his fingers behind his back.

"I've been watching you, Animus DeCavis, and you have been ever so busy. Quite like a little bee. Yes, quite."

 

[Ordeith]

"I've been watching you, Animus DeCavis, and you have been ever so busy.
"Quite like a little bee. Yes, quite."

Animus raised an inquisitive eyebrow, his mind shuffling through possibilities. Poised to summon his Keyblade—his true Keyblade—the assassin turned to face his visitor. The shadows parted to reveal a man, clad in black, with a hood pulled over his eyes and nose. Animus scanned over him. Hm. Hardly an original outfit.

"A fan of mine?" he asked, keeping his tone cordial. "I'd have been more of a showman if I had been able to see my audience. Do you like what you've seen thus far?" The scholar-turned-assassin strode over to the blank Replica dolls, propped up in the corner of his workshop. The gray, faceless anthropoids had gathered a thin film of dust, save for those that Little One had disturbed.

He lightly brushed off the shoulders of one. Its surface felt very much like human skin—yet very unlike it, in other ways. Animus couldn't deny the tinge of disappointment in his heart; his "safety net" would still succeed, he thought, but would take still more time to prepare.

"A blank vessel simply can't stay empty for long," he said.
Animus was still very much aware of his grinning visitor.

"If you've been watching intently, then you know that I've just exhausted my latest train of experiments. Now I need to walk in the opposite direction . . . Would you be interested?" He smirked, turning his eyes to meet the blank hood of his visitor. "Of course, I'll need to know more about you and your qualifications . . . But you've come in peace, so far. And you're a fan!

"Would that be a correct guess, Mister . . . ?" He paused, waiting for the visitor's name. He was taking a gamble, being so open with this smiling stranger—but Animus trusted his intuition. He also trusted that he could incapacitate any grinning lunatic, without Little One's aid.

 

[Professor Ven]

The foul grimace that warped Sei'dar's face as the other Marshals left, nay, for that child of the Eclipse, vanished as His Majesty's attention was brought to hand upon the purest of silver platters. The Sarz'tien's eyes seemed to radiate with their own light as he walked towards the King, peering out the great window, soaking in the foul and corrupted city.

"Perhaps Your Grace would be amicable to my performing the task of cleansing your city? It will take only a small amount of time, and as I can see, we require all the time to prepare. After all, the Ordering of the Chords must occur, yes? Why not better here, in what could be the grandest city of your prestigious Empire, my liege?" Ralun'tier rung out with a warm toll, it's semblance of a mind entirely made up.

Mirkhan leaned against his staff, staring unblinkingly at the King of the Eclipse. "Your enemies are numerous and great, yes, though they are divided. We must find the bonds that keep them together ever so, and twist them. Disunity within the core will spread outwards, and turn stalwart soldiers into deserters. We must make these Wielders of this Keyblade loathe and distrust another, and fear you even more so."

"However, there are those among the Wielders that will see through our designs. They must be eliminated, and swiftly." And swiftly indeed, with all haste. I cannot have the Lord of Chaos bonding himself to one miscreant rebel after the other, not until all the pieces are ready. Sei'dar's mouth twisted, as he returned to glancing at the choking citadel of the Empire. He reached into a pocket, thumbing the marble-sized crystal, feeding it the proper flow of energy, and tapped it twice with his forefinger.

Three pools of darkness appeared behind the Sarz'tien, and the Servants emerged, garbed in their black from head to toe, their eyes trained upon His Majesty, arms folded behind their backs. "These are your most servile citizens, willing to perform the lowliest of tasks for the betterment of your magnificent realm."

 

[Endless Strategy]

Darkness. Not like those heartless monstrosities he had happened upon once, no, a much more calming darkness. That drowsiness before waking, eyes not yet open. It was the feel of the moisture in the air on your skin, the silence that could break at any moment. Immersed in the feel, Galom slowly woke from his dreamless sleep. He was moving…no, someone was carrying him. What had he been doing before? There was rain, hot on cold… he had been searching for something in the woods for a long while now. Cold on hot, cold on hot, what was? The rain was certainly the cold, so the hot was-

His blood! As memories came rushing back Galom shook out of his stupor. He was put down and almost immediately opened his eyes. He shot into a standing position, stumbling a bit at first. His eyes focused first on his chest. He pulled up the bottom of the shirt to see his wounds: two large, violent vertical slashes down his torso. The wounds were so large across that they halfway-connected to each other. Copious bandages had been applied to the damaged area, so essentially he was like the mummy from that tomb he had raided. Tentatively, he felt around the wounds. Immediately he recoiled. Clearly he would have died if not for Merlin’s healing magic, but it hadn’t been enough to heal him completely. He imagined underneath the bindings, two long stripes of rough red skin, scabs that would make any superfluous movement a nightmare. Doing his best to look down without bending his torso, he grabbed hold of the Void Keeper on his belt. Next to his life, this was most important. He clenched it reassuringly in his hands, and turned his attention to the rest of the group.

“Where are we? What happened while I was out? Who carried me here?” The new scenery was disorienting. Why were they in this wasteland, devoid of life or their fellow refugees? As the group explained to him, his expression gradually grew to abject horror. “All of that trouble and we didn’t get a step closer to the books? We’ve been left behind? Crossroads? Do any of you have any idea how we’re going to- what we’re going to………how are we supposed to get out of here!?”Galom attempted to claw at his hair before realizing that even that pulled on his chest indirectly. He was soon on the ground again, writhing the little he could without injuring himself further.

His anger subsided as he was reacquainted with the futility of it. He had learned many times before that talking rarely solved anything, lest it be used to direct one’s course of action. He was thoroughly unsatisfied, and feeling a bit hollow as well, but you could only do the best you could do, right?

“Thank you for carrying me, Vanessa. I have no further doubts towards you,” He said, vainly straining to sit himself up. “If you could please help me up, and then I suppose we’ll be on our way if that’s our only choice.”

 

[OmniChaos]

"Fan? Fan... Fan... What kind of fan? Oscillating?" The Smiling Man tittered at the poor joke. "Nay, nay. Not a 'fan', per se. Nay, not a fan... Call me... 'an investor'... Aye, I suppose that's what you could call me. Yes indeed. Quite.

"I've been watching you, aye, that is true, but my interests in you lie further down the road, so it does. Much further down."

The Smiling Man slowly walked from his corner toward the dolls that sat lifelessly in the corner, with what was almost a skip in his step. He ran his fingers across the dusty skin of the dolls, his smile widening at their touch. "Interesting as they are--and they be quite interesting, aye, no mistakening that, so I won't--I have little interests in them, with what little I do have being completely superficial. Aye, quite."

The Smiling Man turned on the heel of his boot and faced Animus, standing so close that their noses nearly touched. "Nay, Mr. DeCavissssssss... Nay, my interests reside within you, so it does. Aye, so it does. Yes, Mr. Animus, my interests are in what you will do, not what you have done as of now. Nope nope nope. My interests are in you. Indeed. I like to make sure all my pieces are in top shape. Yes yes yes. And that brings me back to my reason for being here.

"Aye, I've come to warn you, Mr. DeCavis, so I have and so I do and so I shall. I like to assure my pieces are in good shape so I have come to warn. You see, Mr. DeCavis, your nice little hidy-hole here will be in the middle of a war zone. Not now, of course. No, not now, but soon. Aye, soon indeed. So I have come to warn, so that you may be prepared and that my...'investments' might come to fruition. Quite. But not now. No, but soon. Aye, soon."

The Smiling Man drew back slightly, allowing some breathing space between them. He tittered and gave a slight bow. "As for myself, I am but a man, so I am. A happy man, a joyous man. A laughing man, a smiling man. I prefer the last, if you fancy." The Smiling Man rose from his bow and readjusted his posture. "And I can assure you, Mr. DeCavis, that the Smiling Man takes care of his investments, aye, so he does and so he shall. If these dolls be your fancy, then my help will be your's, as your's will be mine. After all, I take care of my pieces."

---------​

"No," the Eclipse King said, his face twisting into a small grimace. He took another glance outside, eying someone doing something or other along one of the buildings. He let out a soft groan and returned his attention back to his guest. "No, I shall do it myself." That's right. It's my duty because it's my cross to bear.

"Meanwhile, if you feel it necessary to seek out and take action against these people, then I give you your leave." The Eclipse King impatiently waved Mirkhan along, pinching the bridge of his nose with the other. They were rare--few and far between--and very little ever saw them, but the headaches the Eclipse King got from time to time were quite terrible, and the tyrant could feel one beginning to tingle at the edge of his head. "All I ask is that you not interfere with the Marshals' missions. I gave them myself and will not have petty squabbling ruin my plans. Is that understood?

"Now if that is all, I ask you to take your leave."

---------​

"Don't think too much of it," Vanessa said, offering her hand to the man. She gave a small smirk. "You're still useful, so I thought I'd keep you around a bit longer, Wolfscraps. That's all."

The woman helped the man to his feet, pulling a bit to drag a wince out of him. With Wolfscraps on his feet, Vanessa turned toward the road ahead and placed her hands upon the small of her back. She pushed hard and a loud crack sounded. The woman bent forward and another crack, much softer, sounded. Vanessa took a look out toward the horizon, staring for a moment, before she turned back to the group.

"Alright, then. I suppose we should be off. We should probably reach the next world before nightfall if we leave now."

 

[Endless Strategy]

"Alright, then. I suppose we should be off. We should probably reach the next world before nightfall if we leave now."

And with those words from Vanessa, their journey through the crossroads recommenced. The pace set was deliberate, as fast as could be hoped for without Galom falling behind. The group settled into a rhythm of steps, progressing without much back and forth between them. Galom was more than happy that the other 2 weren’t feeling talkative; his mind was a jumble right now. He tried to create order by going over the last several weeks in his mind, from joining the rebellion to being sliced by the dragon Reaver. Things had happened so fast. It made him light headed, as if his impaired blood circulation weren’t enough.

His reaction moments ago had been immature, but better men than he would be just as shocked. Safe haven was getting further away every minute. Not only had the Gummi ships made a forced landing, they had also taken off without them. So now he had to make his way to the next world with the group and hope for a miracle. At this rate they would never reach Disney Castle. On the few occasions when he had favored a crossroads as opposed to his Keyblade glider, he had picked up a few things. One being that there are no crossroads to sealed off worlds. Disney Castle had been sealed off with magic at the war’s beginning, so naturally no crossroad worlds would lead to it. Given that, his reaction had really understated the matter.

That reminded him. Radiant Garden was supposed to be sealed off too. He had wondered a couple times what could have let the Eclipse army through, and probably would have brought it up to Merlin if they hadn’t had to flee like this. Without Merlin, Galom couldn’t even begin to figure it out. But maybe, if he could riddle things out with the others…

“Hey, Vanessa, Calpurnia, I’ve been thinking about the attack on Radiant Garden. Somehow, the Eclipse army managed to attack there, even though it was sealed off by Merlin and Yen Sid’s most powerful magic. Do either of you have an idea about how they did so? I know you weren’t there, Vanessa, but I’m bringing this up for a reason. Isn’t this a dead end? Aren’t the rebellion worlds sealed off to us as well? “

 

[Professor Ven]

"I know not of this place's name, nor its origin - the Light brought me here." The aged man responded almost mournfully, though within he harbored a panicking hatred of this place. What if DeCavis has already found us here, or the King of the Eclipse? I cannot allow Ogen to be taken, not yet! His is a path still yet to be trod!

The sounds of the town were silent, mute. Quel'loyen led with uneasy footsteps as they passed through the sleepy village, the sky encased in the darkness of the Eclipse. Wanted posters of the "Honest John" fellow ironically enough caused the being whom Tal'shendar had never met to slowly degrade in their "honesty."

Sorrowful weepings of an elderly man broke the otherwise still silence, as the three of them came upon an old man, dressed in an odd fashion, his spectacles clean of tears. "My poor boy - have you see him? Pinocchio?"

_____________________________________________________________________


They shifted in the darkness ahead of him, their movements unheard. Any sound would be the death of them, as they stalked in the shadows, lurking, leering, loping.

He did not need his self-mastered sight of the physical realm to find the Servants, as Ralun'tier could identify them with its boundless tolls. It had rung a single note personal to each when Mirkhan approached them one by one in the barracks and camps, finding those who would be loyal, and above all silent as the grave.

Only a few more movements, and my game will be prepared. Whatever is left of those that fled Radiant Garden will be eradicated, if not bound to service. The staff tolled its enchanted sound, as the Sarz'tien continued strolling through the darkness.

 

[OmniChaos]

A month has passed...​

The smoke slowly cleared, and the cold, stone walls of the castle gave way to the dim, but warm, light of Traverse Town. They had made it--he had made it. All the trials, the suffering; all the lives of those lost for their protection, so that they could live to fight another day. Everything they had gone through, as hard as it was, was worth it as they stood there, the soft rhythm of the warm town flowing through their very souls. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, they could rest easy, no longer having to fear the Eclipse Army, the Reavers, or the Marshals. No need to fear the Eclipse King. At least for now.

"Ah, here we are, lads," Merlin proclaimed, softly stroking his beard in pride. "As promised, Traverse Town."

Ogen dropped to his knees, tears welling up in his eyes. "We're here," he whispered, staring up at the star-filled sky. To look at such a clear sky, free of the thick darkness that plagued the worlds--free of the Eclipse King, all Ogen could do was shed tears of joy. "After everything we've been through... We're actually here."

"Get up kid," Umbra groaned. "You're making a fool of yourself."

Ogen rose from his knees and wiped the tears from his eyes, chuckling slightly to try to chase away the heavy weight of embarrassment that hung on his shoulders. Umbra was right. Of course he was right, Umbra was always right. Ogen had come to learn that fact during their travels, having been steered in the right direction by his guardian on several occasions. He looked to his left and his right, making sure Quel'loyen--as protective of the boy as always--and Everask were still with him.

"So, if we made it," Ogen started, a glimmer of hope shying its way to his face, "do you think the others have too?" And by others, Ogen was specifically referring to Animus, a fact he knew that would not slip Quel'loyen's ears. The boy had expressed concern about Animus since their separation back at Corona Major, a concern Quel'loyen had tried to put aside at every turn by halting the subject.

"Ah, w-well, it is quite possible they have, my boy," the wizard replied, thumbing through the pages of one of his spellbooks. "There is certainly more than one way to reach this word. Let's just hope our enemies do not utilize these methods before our friends do." Merlin slammed the spellbook suddenly, unleashing a cloud of dust from the old book. "Regardless, we won't know if we wait around here all day, now will we?"

"Then pipe up and let's get going, you old windbag!" Archimedes cried from atop Merlin's hat. "The only one droning on here is you!"

"Yes, yes..." Merlin's eyes grew wide, then narrowed as the owl's words resonated in his ears. The old wizard raised his wooden wand and knocked it against the owl's head. "You...you shut your beak, you oversized pigeon!"

"Enough!" Umbra shouted, the tone still foreign-looking on Ogen's lips. "Let's get going already. The sooner we can see if the others are here, the sooner we can decide on our next move."

---​

The four travelers came upon the First District and was welcomed by a warm tune that left their soul at ease. The district was unusually quiet, with only a Moogle and two people in sight. There was no sign of the others or Animus. Ogen's heart sank.

"Sorry kid, but looks likey aren't--"

Umbra's words were cut short as Traverse Town's gates swung open and two men walked in. The first Ogen remembered seeing in Radiant Garden prior to the attack--Daedalus, if the boy recalled. The second, Ogen knew the moment he entered the light: it was Animus. The boy wanted to run over and embrace the man, overjoyed to see him alive, and very well would have, had Umbra not restrained his body.

Daedalus shared his story, telling his travels and the events that had occurred. He explained what had become of the others that had been traveling with him. How they had been ambushed and the others... taken. No one blamed him for what had happen. Nothing else could have been done to save them. He continued, explaining how he had run into Animus and how the two had continued onward, reaching Traverse Town thanks to, oddly enough, King Louie. Apparently, the old orangutan had had another change of heart, this time for the better.

By the end of his story, two others, a woman and a man, walked through the gates, the latter of which was a little roughed up, by the look of it. The woman, who introduced herself as Vanessa, rubbed the boy the wrong way. More importantly, she rubbed Umbra the wrong way, the boy feeling the guardian tensing up within his body. The man, who introduced himself as Galom, motioned to introduce another, but, after turning, stopped, as if remembering something.

"She left, remember?" Vanessa chuckled, giving the man a cocky smirk. "Stupid..."

"So the seven of us are all that's left?" Ogen asked, his eyes glancing from person to person. "Are we really all that's left of Radiant Garden's keyblade wielders?"

"Seems so."

"So... Now what?"

"Well," Merlin said, flipping through a large spellbook. "I-I suppose our next plan of action should be getting in touch with the King. From there, we can get you started with the training you'll need to fight the Eclipse King. I just need to find that infernal spell and we'll be off."

~*~​

While the others turned their attention toward Merlin, Vanessa looked across the first district, a smirk plastered across her face. It had been a long and boring trip, but they had made it to the town nonetheless, even if one person short. Why Cal had left shortly before reaching Traverse Town, the woman did not know, but she supposed it was for the best.

"Hey, Wolfscraps," Vanessa tittered, dragging the man away from the others. "You remember, after we left Merlin and you woke up after the fight with the Reaver, you asked me how Radiant Garden was attacked when it was supposed to be hidden? Well, I think I now know: A Marshal must have snuck into the world. See, if a Marshal were to sneak in, then the Eclipse Army could pinpoint the entrance to the world. That must be what happened.

"You want to know why I know this?" The woman placed her index finger under Galom's chin, pressing up against it. She pulled a small, silver object from her pocket, a red button placed on top. She dangled it in front of his face, teasingly. While his eyes trained on the object, Vanessa leaned in and kissed the man on the lips. Why? Why not? As she drew back, she whispered in his ear. "Well, I just happen to know it because of a simple fact: It's what I'm about to do."

Vanessa pressed the button on the object and a loud hum sounded, one that sounded much like a mosquito next to an ear. It was harsh and sharp, and it hurt the woman's teeth. A large vortex opened behind the woman, right in front of Traverse Town's gate. From the vortex blew a cold, sour wind, one that smelled of death and despair.

Click.

Click. Click. Click.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

Like ants from a shattered hill, Reavers swarmed from the small vortex and scattered across Traverse Town. Ten, twenty, then hundreds, the Reavers dispersed into every corner and alley of the town. Their metallic legs 'clinked' and 'clanged' against the ground as the Scuttlers carried out their missions. Roughly a dozen Scuttlers held still behind the woman, awaiting orders from her.

"Sorry Wolfscraps, but today you die." She held out her hand. "Capture the wizard! Kill the rest!"

 

[Professor Ven]

He was justice. He was the Light. Quel'loyen Tal'shendar willed the Abyssal Void to his hand, and the white, pale Blade of the Dark Sun in the other, as he spun about to the front of Ogen, daring his enemies to take the boy. The woman will die, and Animus as well, should I be lucky to give the scholar his due in the confusion. They cannot take Ogen, and I will slay any who dare. "Dagor'tel in ser'aran!" Tal'shendar shouted, as the dia'seri blazed in a blinding radiance.

Anger rippled across his face, a torrent of rage as he seemed to feed upon the very light the dia'seri gave off, sorrowful blue eyes darkening to pitch-black sin. "Adieu." He brought his blades down to bear upon the woman, anticipating her counter, the attempt at a parry. There shall be no mercy for traitors. If you run, I will find you; and then I shall kill you.

_____________________________________​

A pack of Reavers swarmed in, Scuttlers standing behind the woman, as if waiting for her command. She cannot give it. I must have them all alive. That magician, Merlin, is needed - and the others will be required for questioning; their life will depend solely upon how much trouble they give me. Mirkhan leered out at the scene, making a gesture with his hand.

The Servants snuck along the rooftops of this Traverse Town, lurking unseen in the shadows, scattered in multiple groups. They were now a numerous band; their numbers had swollen since the Sarz'tien had begun his selections. Mirkhan Sei'dar stood among several others of his Servants - his black, velvet robes had been morphed into a set of armor that was just as sinful; it seemed to soak in all light near it, and was as tough as the Eclipse King's Inselberg. A helm of the same material, designed after the style of the Slave Masters of Erul, with a slight bell shape, and had three lines of black metal plumes along the top of the helm.

Despite Sei'dar's wardrobe change, he still carried Ralun'tier, and its peals had guided him to here. The staff was just as deadly when used in combat, and the Sarz'tien had never lacked in that school of thought. However, his white-eyed gaze looked upon the blazing paladin of light below and away. Quel'loyen, a pity you and I wound up on the other sides of this ki'rhal board. No matter - we will performing the Ordering of the Chords soon, and they will kneel.

"Proficio, acımadan. Comprehendet eos omnes viva. Reavers occidunt, et kadın adduxerunt eam." The Servants responded without question; they were given the ability to understand the Sarz'tien's pattern of speech via a simple enchantment given to then by their master, ere they entered into his service. It had proved beyond useful when minor, easily replaceable Marshals had gotten in Sei'dar's way, or barred him from searching for Quel'loyen, and that child he seemed to protect. If she is of the Eclipse Army, she is a poor Marshal. Her 'victory' will ruin my far more fruit-bearing one.

The Servants, getting a running start, leaped down as one single unit, many passing through the twelve Scuttler Reavers with their weapons, and several grabbed the woman, a few blocking Quel'loyen's attack, and like an army of ants, contained the woman, and to the band of the Rebellion seemed to have been only interested in capturing her, as they disappeared along the rooftops.

They held her hand and foot, binding her with well-tied ropes, and brought her before the Sarz'tien not far from the scene of her capture, but far enough to not be found relatively soon by undesirables. Sei'dar's helmed face seemed to loom over her, as she only saw his pure white eyes glaring straight into hers with the untold expression of this isn't playtime, my dear, not unlike a parent's face when scolding a child. The plumes on the helm seemed to swish in the air as Mirkhan moved as close as he dared.

"You have three choices; join me, leave, or die. Join me and taste victory far better than this short-lived one; leave, and be free of defeat; or embrace death." Ralun'tier whirled in the skilled, dexterous grasp of Sei'dar's right hand, as the left prepared to send this miscreant to the Abyss.

"Choose. Other Marshals would have simply killed you; I am not so uncivilized - every piece has its power on this board. However, time grows short, and these rebels must be mine, and unspoiled. Regardless, the remainder of your Reavers must be disposed of." the Sarz'tien's face was bereft of emotion as he spoke to her in his swift, tact manner. He had better things to do than deal with a turncoat. And a pile of broken Reavers with a single dead woman can tell one tale as sure as another.

"The Servants have spared you from death once, at my bidding. I can easily return you to the man who would have slain you. Oh, you might have dodged his attack, danced about him, and performed well in your own right, but he would have endured every wound you placed on him. Your footing would slip, or your parry would be off, and then your shapely form would adorn the street in its cold art. He would go on to destroy all of those Reavers you brought, and your story would be over before its potential had been reached. Remember that."

 

[FairSovereign]

Everask stood next to Ogen and Quel'loyen upon their arrival at Traverse Town, though admittedly slightly apart from them, as seemed to be the custom. Despite the things they had been through, they hardly trusted him yet, not by half, which was understandable considering he'd just appeared to them out of the blue. The events leading up to their arrival were arduous and more than a little wearing on the soul, and that had left Everask with relatively little time for socializing. Suffice to say, that while Everask was part of the group, he was still very much alone. But that's alright. I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to do the will of the Light, that is all. Everask had taken pains to hide his abilities from his companions, using his keyblades as little as possible, and sticking primarily to whatever combative abilities he could manage without them, he even bound his corrupted arm in white bandages. For the most part he'd gotten by and still managed to assist in the protection of his new-found allies, but he still felt like the sight of his keyblaes would inspire a negative reaction. They were not regarded well back at the Gardens. Many referred to them as abominable because of their nature, and origins. He doubted Quel'loyen had ever seen his use his keyblades back in the Radiant Gardens, but he would always prefer the man's quiet suspicion to outright revilement any day.

Everask maintained his regular paranoid nature, looking around in all directions, keeping an eye on the rooftops. It was a habit that he typically prided himself in, though it also made it very difficult for him to relax. Traverse Town was supposed to be safe, right? Supposed to be unsullied. Yet he was getting that feeling once again, that prickling of the flesh that he associated with being watched. With a thought, he let energy gather just within his fingertips, not yet manifesting but just an instant from being brought to bear upon an enemy. Without his keyblades out he could only use a small amount of his total power, but that would be enough for now. Surprisingly enough however, the source of the threat, or rather the initial source came from somewhere much closer to home.

A portal opened, like a gargantuan eye opening, behind Vanessa out of which poured Reavers like water from a running faucet. Power poured from Everask’s fingers, darkness in one hand, light in the other. Everask saw Quel’loyen attempt to attack the woman, Vanessa, but within moments, she was swept away by mysterious figures in the night, which carried her off over the rooftops. Everask, hissed out a cry of surprise. Eyes narrowed, he looked at the people next to him, then back up at the roof. Cursing to himself, he began to run towards the rooftops, but his path was barred by a veritable army of Reavers.

“Abominations!” Everask cried, and the power at his fingertips began to grow and take shape. “In the name of the Light, I shall end your miserable existences.” The power formed into two keyblades comprised of their respective alignments, one of white metal, and the other of writhing darkness. One arm was covered in a semi-metallic white substance, almost like a second skin, whilst the other was larger, corrupted, and covered in a crackling black/violet energy. Lifting the black keyblade over his head, the hand-like end of the keyblade began to grow till it was roughly the size of Everask's own body. Copious amounts of dark energy began to gather in the “hand’s” palm, shaking the air around it. Everask’s eyes, which before were an icy blue, were now the color of dried blood, with slit pupils. With a voice thick with rage and something else, eerily unnatural, he roared, “LOSS!”

With a powerful sweep, his swung the massive blade/arm at a portion of the massive crowd of machines and power erupted forth from its grasped hand towards the Reavers. Several were instantly destroyed by the burst of energy, reduced to little more than scarp, whilst other lost components, and fumbled about, damaged. With the energy dispersed, his eyes reverted back to their icy blue. With a powerful leap supported by a combination of light and dark energy, he landed on the rooftops, and began to run in the direction that Vanessa was taken.

 

[OmniChaos]

Vanessa chuckled softly, her calm demeanor, as contemptuous as always, dismissed the man's threats with little more than a smirk. She produced a small knife from beneath her sleeve, and with it, cut clean the ropes that bound her. With agility and strength that her appearance belied, Vanessa buried the knife deep into the leg of one of the man's servants. With a loosened grip, Vanessa broke free of the servants' grasps, digging her knees deep into their stomachs and elbows into their faces. The woman delivered a kick to the fourth servant's (the one with Vanessa's knife blade-deep in his thigh) chin, sending his body flying limply before his master.

"Hmmm. Only problem being that I don't miss a step. Ever." The woman let out another chuckle, this one louder, but droll and monotone. She fiddled with her raven hair, curling it around her finger lazily, as if bored. "And shame on you, throwing me in with Marshals and the lot; implying that I'm as pathetically weak as they are." She pulled her finger free from her hair and let her arm rest at her side. "I have my orders, straight from the King, to bring in the wizard and chase off the others.

"But..." Vanessa sighed, rolling her eyes. "If you want them so badly, so be it; let the King's wrath rest on your shoulders. I've accomplished my primary mission and infiltrated Traverse Town. Any screw ups are your's and your's alone."

Vanessa slowly backed up, minding the man's moaning servants around her. "I'll swallow my pride and take my leave for now. You can try to follow me, but--" Vanessa motioned toward the approaching man behind Mirkhan "--I get the feeling that our friend over their might keep you slightly occupied." The woman pulled a small capsule from her pocket and threw it at the roof bellow her, unleashing a smokescreen that engulfed her body. When the smoke cleared, Vanessa was gone.

~*~​

Ogen dug his keyblade into the head of a Reaver, and the construct, with a dull metallic cry, stopped cold in front of the boy. The boy tried to pull his keyblade free, but an approaching Reaver from his left caught his attention, and Ogen--rather Umbra--released a surge of darkness from the boy's palm, compacting the Reaver's front side in on itself. He finally pulled the blade free with some effort, but found the one slain Reaver that lay dead before him replaced by two of its brothers.

Ogen tried to parry the rotating blades of the advancing Scuttlers, but their strike caught the keyblade and ripped it from the boy's grasp. The keyblade landed behind the Reavers and was swallowed by the sea of Reavers. Ogen cursed as he backed from the encroaching Reavers. Ogen held out his palm, a thick ball of darkness gathering before it. As he continued back, Ogen's leg caught hold of something and the boy fell backward.

Ogen let loose a bloodcurdling cry. He had tripped over the second Reaver he had slain, and in the process, the dead Reaver's blade dug deep into the boy's leg. He tried pulling his leg free, but the overwhelming pain of even touching the blade kept the boy stuck. He turned, panicked, and watched as the Reaver's rotating blades drew closer.

"Somebody!" the boy screeched, his voice cracking. "Anybody! Help me! Please!!!"

Don't worry...

"Wha--?"

"No!" Umbra cried. "It can't be!"

I'll help.

Ogen's hands, which he held in front of his face, were engulfed in darkness--but it was a foreign darkness, one unlike his or Umbra's, but still cut from the same cloth. It felt powerful, commanding; the power flowed through his body like a wave of fire. It felt good, as all power does, however, it also felt malignant--the type of malignancy that consumes a person whole (growing and infecting and growing and infecting and growing...).

Don't worry...

Ogen's body moved on its own accord. It pulled free from the Reaver's blade, blood rushing out as it was dislodged. He rose to his feet, the leg having suffered the wound showing weakness, and managed to stay upright. His body moved in a primal fashion, as he lunged toward the Reavers. The darkness around his hands gave shape to claws, which sliced through the Reavers' armor with ease. The claws dug deep, tearing the Reavers apart, and the constructs, suffering heavy damage, fell silent.

But his body continued, his hands--the dark claws forged by the malignant power that had invaded him--ripped deeper and deeper into the lifeless shells. It was primal, beastly, and all Ogen could do was watch helplessly as his body shredded what remained of the Reavers apart. When his hands finally stopped and pulled out of the Reavers, they brought with them two glass cylinders, one in each hand. What Ogen saw what was in them, his throat went dry.

Hearts. Though they were worn and weakened, they were hearts nonetheless. People's hearts. Living hearts.

Don't worry...

"No..." Ogen felt his hands tighten around the glass cylinders. The glass cried out in pain and fractured under the pressure (growing and infecting...). "You can't..." His grip grew tighter, orchestrated by an unseen, malignant puppet master. The glass let loose a sharp cry as it started to give way. "Don't!"

I'll help.

"No!!!"