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I can hear you calling my name
Even if we’re apart, I can’t forget
So I pray
Gloria! I believe in fate
Gloria! Love is always and forever
It had been a long time since he’d felt… anything.
His world was the blank grayness he’d found himself trapped within since the moment Xehanort had taken over his body. Time ebbed and flowed, as still and unrippling as the gray world around him. In here, there were no smells, no tastes. The only sound was their breathing, their words, during the rare moments they spoke to each other anymore. Xehanort was the only color he saw, whenever the old man decided to show himself. The only thing he could touch – if he was ever willing to touch him.
Within this grayness, he’d found himself drifting more than once. Thinking of the past. Missing his friends. Wishing he’d done things better.
“Is that doubt I feel?” Xehanort would ask, whenever Terra’s thoughts took a dark path. He would focus on Xehanort, startled by the sudden, blasting noise, and find the old man grinning viciously at him. A sudden brightness of color when before there’d been none. “It’s about time you gave up, don’t you think?”
“Never,” he shot back, over and over again. But his declaration would only make Xehanort smile.
Whether Terra succumbed or not, his heart and body had already been taken from him.
Once – only once – a new voice had entered his world, and the endless gray had receded. He’d heard a voice he’d never heard before, a witch begging him to show ‘her’ – Aqua – the path to light, so she wouldn’t be lost to darkness. He hadn’t understood until he’d blinked and found himself in another world. Equally dark, equally silent. Yet before him, in this dark, unknown place, he had seen Aqua. After so long seeing only the orange and black of Xehanort, the bright blue of Aqua’s clothes and eyes and hair had made him wince.
It had been world-shattering, to see shapes and textures around them. To see a path instead of gray. To hear, not the old, creaking voice of his tormentor, but the lilting voice of an old friend. An old friend who had admitted to Ven’s continued safety, to seeing him before her. All he’d known, through Xehanort, was that Ven yet lived, and that Xehanort ‘would find him.’ That taunt had haunted him. Yet, according to Aqua, Xehanort would never get to him. Not without her.
Terra had given up his chance to continue speaking with her, to continue existing outside that world of gray, just to ensure Xehanort did not get to her.
After that, Xehanort had stopped speaking with him altogether. Whatever he was doing with Terra’s body now, he didn’t want Terra to know.
Without a form to battle, Terra found himself able to do nothing but stand and watch the empty grayness before him. The silence, the stillness, when he was so uncertain of his friends’ fate, sometimes felt like it would drive him mad. He kept busy by counting seconds, replaying memories, reminding himself of his purpose. If he listened, deep within his heart, he thought he could still feel the warmth of Ven’s light. Thought he could still just barely make out what Ven’s and Aqua’s voices sounded like. When even that failed him, he would meditate, close his eyes to a far more acceptable darkness, and relive every happy moment he could.
And so he waited, in the gloom, with baited breath, never knowing if the unknown trickle of time was leading Xehanort to Aqua. To Ven. To whatever it was he’d planned to do with Terra’s body from the start.
The grayness covered the memory of that dark world, until that place was the only one he could recall well, the only place whose textures and muted colors still remained clear. Yet even that felt like a dream. He rubbed his arms, nearly scratched at them, just to feel something. Sensation. Xehanort didn’t say or do anything anymore; his attention was no longer on Terra. There was no need for Xehanort to instigate taunts or battle; he had what he needed from Terra. Why battle him and risk losing? Why get rid of him when Terra could try to mount some sort of resistance if he gained some measure of freedom?
Almost, he considered battling Xehanort again. Distracting him, perhaps. Fight for dominance of his heart once more. But what if he lost? What if his attempt failed? Then Xehanort would be on guard, and Terra’s chance at even merely distracting him would end in failure. Yet, without being able to sense anything beyond the layers of gray he’d cloaked himself within, how could he possibly know when the time was right?
The thoughts made him anxious, yet he couldn’t afford to act, even on that. Xehanort may not chance an attack on an alert Terra, but if he showed too much weakness, then Xehanort could pounce.
He felt his world shake, for an instant. The very sensation of shakiness, the idea of vertigo, sent his mind reeling. He looked around. What was happening? Had he taken damage? Had something happened to his heart? Yet even as he wondered, the gray world calmed. Xehanort did not appear. Should he attack? Was Xehanort being attacked out there, using Terra’s body to battle someone? Almost, he called upon the last of his strength. But even if he did, what kind of offense could he mount? He had nothing but his mind; his heart and body had already been stolen. What could he do within his own mind? What kind of battle could he start? If he didn’t time it well, he would fail to help whoever was fighting Xehanort and place himself in a disadvantageous position. Was it Aqua? Had she finally found her way out of the darkness? What, then, of Ven?
He ran a hand through his hair. It had been so long. The only thing he was certain of was that it had been so very, very long. How many months? How long had Xehanort had his body, to do with as he pleased? His anxiety ratcheted up, but for once, Xehanort did not mock him. Should he strike? Could he?
His lips firmed. It had been his only sign. He should at least try. It would be more odd if he ignored that rumble, wouldn’t it? “Losing strength, Xehanort?” he called out, lifting his chin. His fists clenched. His form tensed. He nearly itched for battle. If only he could be sure… “It seems not everything is progressing smoothly.”
For long moments, there was nothing. Then, suddenly, there was. Finally, he saw a color beyond the gray. Xehanort’s skin, his yellow eyes, the white-gray of his gloves – Terra drank up the sight like a starving man. Xehanort grinned. “Ah, Terra. You must be tired of this place.” He looked around. “So stale. So dark.” He chuckled. “So like your poor heart.”
He knew better. He was certain now. There was more to his heart than darkness. If there hadn’t been, Xehanort would have been rid of Terra long ago. Terra raised a hand to his chest. “Your manipulations won’t hurt me anymore. I’m stronger than that now.”
“Oh?” Xehanort’s grin widened; the bright shine of his teeth shone like neon lights in Terra’s eyes. “Well. I suppose eleven years is enough time for someone to change.”
His heart stuttered in his chest. Eleven years? It couldn’t be. Had he lost so much time? Aqua had looked the same. Had she… how long ago had that been? How long ago had they all sat in the Land of Departure, staring up at the stars?
Xehanort laughed again. “Sit tight, Terra. All will be over soon.”
He raced forward. “Xehanort!” But that form had already disappeared again. Instead of making Xehanort’s heart waver, his own had lost focus, instead. He hung his head. Had he lost his last chance? Who would pay the price for his moment of weakness?
He touched his head. Eleven years? How… how old was Ven now? Had his friends left him behind? Had… had he lost so much time to be with them?
He clutched his chest. He couldn’t be too late… could he? Xehanort’s plans had gone beyond a desire for this Χ-Blade. He’d wanted to recreate the Keyblade War, hadn’t he? Then, if everything would be ‘over soon…’
He couldn’t have gotten to Ven, could he?
Terra paced. What was happening? Should he try again? And do what?
“Terra!”
He jerked to a stop. “Ven?” he whispered. The voice had entered and left, just like that. Was… had it been his imagination? Had he finally lost it, trapped in nothingness for so long?
He listened, straining his hearing. Nothing. He covered his lips. Breathed deep. Should he try? “Xehanort!” he shouted. He reached into himself. He could still feel his own power, though it felt far away. Calling upon it made his body heave.
His world rumbled again, just for an instant. He called forth every ounce of strength left in him, felt the curl of darkness around him – darkness and light. How had he never realized how intertwined they both were for him? He curled his mind around it all. There were no proper words for it, save to liken it to a small lance. Within his own mind, he created a lance of light and shot it out, piercing the grayness. The world trembled. Xehanort appeared before him, his face contorted. The old man’s lips curled, not to show teeth, but to make a small ‘tsk’ of frustration. Terra breathed heavily. “Your persistence is admirable, but useless,” he said. “Even with my control divided, you cannot escape me. Your heart is filled with my darkness.”
He could feel it. Despite the light and darkness of his own heart, he could feel the overwhelming power of Xehanort’s dark energy. Just as Terra had cocooned Xehanort all these years, Xehanort had slowly cocooned Terra’s own power within himself. Hence, he realized suddenly, why the grayness around him was so strong. He blasted another lance of light, furious all over again with his imprisonment. “It’s about time you got out of my body, Xehanort!”
Xehanort just laughed. “You think your body is so important? I have fulfilled my use for you, boy. Now all you are is a glorified puppet.”
He ground his teeth. Fulfilled his use for him? Terra couldn’t begin to imagine. Eleven years was a long time – time enough for Xehanort to have completed anything. The worst of atrocities needed mere days, mere months of planning. Over a decade? Anything was possible.
Ven.
Terra snarled. “Not anymore.” He burst out. Everything he had. For a second, he thought his light might have outshone Xehanort’s. But no. It wasn’t just his. Another’s?
That someone on the outside. That someone was fighting Xehanort still, too. Weakening his power. He gasped and – and felt it. He felt it. Air. He was really gasping. It wasn’t just a motion anymore. He could feel the air suck through his lungs, oddly dry and filled with dust. He could taste it. Wind pushed against his skin. He winced and felt his skin move, his lips pull back. He… it was his body again. He was himself. He could feel hands on him, on his arms. They pulled him up. The touch was almost too much, after so long with nothing. Yet he thought he could recognize it. With nothing for so long, the familiar feel of his loved ones felt like a miracle. “Aqua,” he placed, taking in the small fingers. And the other – the other, he knew very well. “Ven.”
Yet, even as he recognized the touch, he felt a pressure on the back of his mind. Xehanort pressed against him, pushing at him. “Terra, please.” Aqua shook him. The sensation was like an explosion – movement, wind, touch. His body moved, and he could feel the muscles, the bones, the joints. He felt his body shift to maintain balance. Her voice, as quiet as it was, sounded like hammers on his ears. Xehanort’s darkness unfurled from within him, so suffocatingly deep it seized his breath in his lungs.
“Come back, Terra!”
Ven.
For the first time in eleven years, he was hearing Ven’s voice.
Xehanort’s darkness grabbed at him. Clutched at the control he’d gained. He grabbed his head. He could feel that disgusting darkness unfurling out, beating back his light, tinged as it was with its own shadows. It crept into those corners and crevices and grabbed at his joints, one by one, until Terra could no longer feel his feet, or his legs, or his arms. The feel of the wind cut off. The taste of grit on his tongue disappeared.
He sent his net out, trying to somehow contain Xehanort once more. For a second, it seemed to work. Xehanort’s hold over him diminished. Terra grunted, surprised at the sound, nearly startled by it. Startled further to feel Xehanort pull on a similar, darker power. Before Terra could do more than gasp, Xehanort twisted Terra’s darkness into something grotesque. The chains, when they erupted from him, were not his.
No. No.
Xehanort’s power burst from within him. Like a wave, it crushed out his light. He felt himself falling, for a short moment, and then again, he stood within the confines of that empty, gray expanse.
No, he realized with despair. He’d failed. And now Ven and Aqua…
No! No, no! He ran up to the grayness, though after living in this empty hell for so long, he already knew he would go nowhere. This place had no limit. He could wander for days – likely had, if he truly had been here for eleven years – and still not reach a wall or door. Xehanort’s power was everywhere, consuming every free inch of space left to him. He reeled back as it reached out to him. How had Xehanort become so strong?
No. This wasn’t his strength. It was Terra’s. Xehanort had corrupted Terra’s own power. He couldn’t use it without allowing Xehanort access to it, as well. Which meant he was fighting not just Xehanort, but himself, as well.
He couldn’t win.
The realization came upon him even as his world rumbled worse than it ever had before. Out there, Aqua and Ven were fighting. Fighting him. Because Xehanort was using him. To do what? Take that X-Blade he wants so badly? To kill Aqua and – and what? What would become of Ven?
What was his body being used to do?
“Ven.” He ran a hand over his face. Ven was out there. Somehow, he was still alive, still safe. If Terra could just stop Xehanort from getting to him. If he could act…
He called upon his anger, his frustration, his fear. And he called upon his love for his friends, his desire to protect them. The flurry of light and darkness beat against the empty containment he was trapped within. It just… it wasn’t enough. “Please, damn it!” He tried again. Nothing. His own darkness could never counteract Xehanort’s, and his light was being pushed away by Xehanort’s control over his darkness. He covered his face with his hands. Please, no. Not like this. Not when it mattered so much.
“Terra…”
A spark of light gathered before him. His heart tripped over itself. Oh, god, no. Ven sounded tired. Hurt.
“I kept my promise.”
No! No! He didn’t care what happened to him. None of it mattered! His body, his heart, his mind – what good were any of them if they didn’t protect the ones he loved?! If this was all they could do – if this was all his body was capable of – then he didn’t want it!
All he wanted was to save Ven!
Without caring about control or power or victory – without caring about anything but that tiny light – Terra reached out to it. Even though it was small, it was powerful. Xehanort’s darkness couldn’t penetrate it.
It was an escape route.
He abandoned his body. It was useless, anyway; all it was doing was hurting those he loved. He saw, smelled, heard nothing as he vacated his prison and, he assumed, once again entered the outside world.
From here, all he could sense was light and darkness. He could feel the light of his friends – Ven, shining so brightly he was more like sunlight than starlight here. Aqua, her light steady and strong, unwavering. And another, one he thought he might recognize if he could only place from where.
And of course, Xehanort’s darkness, wrapped tight around his own, the bands like cords chained beneath his skin to his heart.
But his was not the only one in such a condition. Terra felt several, all chained beneath Xehanort’s will. What had Xehanort been doing all these years? How many people had he turned into victims?
Then there were the piles of darkness that were just Xehanort. And there were multiple. Somehow, he was sensing Xehanort in one part of the map, surrounded by several of… of what felt like Xehanort's own bodies. Several of them.
One of them… one of them, he recognized. The shape of the body, though contorted, altered – it was like his own. He grimaced. Was that writhing mass of black him? And beside it, chasing after someone with light and darkness both, someone who felt so familiar he could taste the name on his tongue, he felt – two hearts? No. Just one. But a place where one had once been. Where his had once been.
It was an empty vessel. One literally made for him.
He raced toward it as fast as he could. The memories of that blank, empty form were hazy. He remembered the constant struggle back when Xehanort had first taken his form. He remembered battling for control of his body, somehow maintaining awareness of his surroundings. He hadn’t yet become accustomed to the gray expanse around him and had tried to push his boundaries beyond it. He remembered Xehanort becoming, for a moment, far weaker than he’d been. He’d manipulated the darkness then, used it to his advantage and called forth a gate, a portal, hoping only to send himself as far and deep into nothingness as possible. After that, Xehanort had held him captive, enforced the chains of Terra’s incarceration, and removed from him the opportunity to try such a thing ever again.
Was this what his form had been, back then?
The empty container accepted his heart easily. He didn’t bother trying to acclimate or understand his form; he zoomed straight back to the battle he'd left behind. The travel back was nearly instantaneous; he thought about where he wanted to be, and there he was – some sort of pathway had been available to him, and he had taken it. Suddenly, he found himself right back where he’d been when he’d first escaped – right next to his own body. Before him, he could see Ven’s light. His heart lurched to his throat. Ven was falling.
The form had hands. Arms. He flew through the air, barely bothering to notice his body in any way other than to notice his arms were long. Strong. It was enough for him to reach Ven as he fell, to catch and cradle that small, brilliant light. He saw Aqua’s light fall past and hurried after it, as well. He caught her. If this form could cry, he would have cried. He hadn’t been useless. He’d managed to get to them in time.
Then… then he realized they did not move.
His body froze. He became aware of sounds, smells – smell especially, as this body’s senses caught on the acrid scent of Xehanort’s darkness and breathed deep. He could feel, though the sensation was muted – he noted pressure, and resistance, but little else. Still, the light press of Ven’s and Aqua’s bodies – he thought he could feel the tiniest press of movement.
No. No, they were alive. They were breathing. Their lights remained. He turned.
Here, in this form, he had – not eyes, per se, but an ability to see that he never would have considered. It was like everything had a sort of form, though only in black and white. He could see the light and darkness in these forms, could see the general shape of them. In his arms, the shapes of Aqua and Ven hung loose in his grip. If these eyes of his were right, they looked unaltered. Eleven years? Neither of them seemed to have aged.
Before him, even a vague outline could not hide the form of his own body. The darkness within was thick and viscous – Xehanort. Here, with Terra’s heart no longer within his body, he faced nothing but darkness and anger. His heart was free. For better or worse, he was no longer confined to that prison.
Which meant he could fight.
Intricate lines of darkness poured out on every side from Xehanort. They were wrapped around his friends’ bodies, had no doubt been a part of whatever had caused them to lose consciousness. He wrapped the ends of those tethers and, in one overly-large fist, crushed them.
Just that simple act, and the tethers all broke; Xehanort’s darkness crashed in pieces, like grass fragments, to the ground. Terra felt within them traces of his own darkness. The power that Xehanort had stolen from him, wielded against his friends. Rage billowed in his chest. The form seemed to grow stronger from it, its muscles bulging, its carapace becoming like steel.
Still. Slowly, growing accustomed to the odd, billowing movements of this body, he lowered himself to the ground. With utmost care, he placed Aqua and Ventus on the ground. Still, they did not move.
“How?!”
He turned back to his body. The word reverberated in his head, sound without sound. It was enough to make him have to shift perspectives; like his sight, his hearing seemed to come in a new form. Without his tether to his body, it seemed the only way he would hear would be through this creature’s senses. Tt heard sounds as if through water. He caught the inflection, the deep reverberations. But the sound itself was encased in a sort of fog.
Still. That had been a voice far too deep to be his own. Deep enough to make him think of Xehanort’s low tones. Xehanort’s voice was coming out of his lips.
“You fell to the dark.” Terra’s eyes narrowed. No. He knew better now. He may have given in to the rage in his heart, but he had not fallen to darkness. If he had, he wouldn’t have so much light left inside him.
He moved to attack, only to pause. This body wasn’t a body, he realized. He’d taken the form of a heartless. That was why he’d suddenly arrived back here. He’d traveled through shadows – through the deep darkness of Xehanort’s shadow – to arrive back in this place in time to reach Ven and Aqua.
Fell to the dark. If he could have, he would have grinned.
He used this body as it was intended. The darkness surrounding Xehanort was so deep it was like slipping into a pool. He jumped straight back up, faster than he’d ever been as a human. It took him a split second to reorient himself, but this body was used to its speed. By the time Xehanort realized what he’d done, the vertigo had disappeared.
With one hand, he reached out and grabbed Xehanort’s face. He lifted his body like it weighed nothing. Xehanort’s darkness, though inside Terra's body, no longer had access to his darkness – or his light. It left Xehanort with nothing but darkness to attack him with. It splashed against Terra’s new form like water. He was a heartless. All Xehanort’s darkness did was strengthen Terra’s grip.
He reached up with his free hand to touch his new face. Good. It wasn’t just eyes. This body had a nearly humanoid face. There was something – something covering his lips. He grimaced. When he tried to open his mouth, he failed.
Oh, no. He’d been silenced long enough.
It took some work to remember how to move fingers. They were more complex than he remembered; living so long without control over a proper body had been bad enough, but these fingers were large and unruly, made more for fights than anything delicate. With a little groping, however, he managed to grab the cloth crossed over his lips, keeping them shut, and wrenched it loose. He opened his mouth to speak and found himself tripping over his tongue, his gums. The reverberation of sound moving from his throat to his lips shook him. He had to test the sound again before he was comfortable giving Xehanort his message.
“One day.” His voice was gravelly. This body, like he himself, was unused to having a voice. “I will set this right.” It was weak, at first; his lips and tongue moved, but the sensation felt strange. He realized it was because he hadn’t moved real lips or a real tongue in a very, very long time. But no longer. He held Xehanort up. Xehanort struggled in his hand, grabbed at his wrist, his fingers. Terra’s teeth clenched. “One day,” he snarled, “I will set this right.” Xehanort kicked out at him. His eyes widened. “One day, I will return to this land and protect my friends!”
The words he'd said when Xehanort had first trapped him. The words Xehanort had mocked for eleven long years. The words Terra had clung to desperately while his world became grayer and grayer.
You failed, Xehanort!
Outside of his own body, he could use his light as his own again. He felt it inside, greater than he’d ever thought it to be, even when trapped in Xehanort’s clutches.
“Terra!” someone shouted. A timbre he didn’t recognize. “Now!”
Light. A beam of it shot out from – from that voice’s keyblade. Before he could think about that, it struck Xehanort. He spasmed in Terra’s hand, his body shaking in reaction. The boy had chosen to help the strength of Terra’s light. That was right. Xehanort had only been able to take his body because, for an instant, his darkness was great enough. If his light became great enough, would Xehanort even be able to maintain his hold?
Get him out. Get him out. Get him out.
With this light inside of him, it was possible. It was possible!
Terra burst from the heartless, once more leaving the body he’d resided within for the open emptiness of the world around him. The loss of even the muted sensations of that form startled him, made him remember the gray. The dark form he’d taken dissipated from behind him, leaving him only the light – the light of the keyblade wielder’s attack as it held Xehanort’s darkness immobile, and the light of Ven and Aqua, still and silent as stone just beyond.
He raced forward.
Returning to his body should have felt familiar. It was his. Yet this form he entered did not feel like his own. Xehanort’s darkness was still as dark and all-encompassing as he remembered. Yet here, now, with the other wielder’s light shining on him and his own confidence leading him forward, he already knew. Xehanort’s darkness had no place in him any longer.
The escape route he’d used was a wide expanse. Terra re-entered his body and found himself in an empty place yet again – but this time, the grayness was instead bright and filled with shifting colors. He looked around, his mouth gaping open. These colors, this prism of light – was this what his heart looked like when someone shown their own light off of it? When the power of another heart met his, not with darkness and manipulation, but with belief and acceptance?
He saw Xehanort’s form before him. The old man was gasping, his face caught in a rictus of fury. “You were trapped,” Xehanort said.
“I was,” he agreed. He stepped forward. Just doing so nearly brought Xehanort to his knees. Terra felt his light radiating out from his chest – from his heart. He could feel his heart. For the first time in years, it was under his control again. “I’d allowed myself to succumb to anger and fear. I doubted myself.” He raised his hand. It almost seemed to glow. He was strong. Strong enough to do what mattered. Strong enough to protect his friends from this man in front of him. “But no longer.” He slashed at the air before him. “Get out. This body – this heart – was never yours. I’m finally showing you the door, old man.”
He smiled. Xehanort’s darkness was nothing to him now. Sure, Terra carried darkness in his heart, too. But that darkness did not, could not, cancel out his light.
There wasn’t enough darkness in his heart for Xehanort’s control to maintain. Terra felt the chains of Xehanort’s domination crack and split. It was as if some branding, some stain, was being washed clean. Leaving his heart to shine bright again.
“You won’t win,” Xehanort snarled. “I need only battle you all to forge the X-Blade. You’ll fall before me, just like your friends.”
Terra snarled. “You’ll never touch any of us ever again!”
His conviction blasted the last remaining chain linking Xehanort’s heart to his. With the snap of that tether echoing in his heart, Xehanort was no more.
He opened his eyes.
The sky above him was bright blue. Its burning light warmed his skin as light – his own light, his – burned like the sun above. Wind pushed against his back, ruffled his hair. The darkness of Xehanort’s control was gone, so completely it was as if it had never been.
He was free.
He landed on the ground, barely aware that he'd even been above it, and nearly fell flat. His calves, his thighs, his knees, all bent and flexed at the impact. And his feet! The sudden slam onto the ground, the way his toes clenched in his boots to try to maintain his balance. The way his soles burned as they slammed against the implacable ground. The way his back bent to absorb the impact and keep his balance.
All of it, every last piece, left him floundering. The scrape of the earth beneath his feet as he altered his stance to stand straight once more sounded like thunder. The taste of dirt and dust, the dry texture to it, nearly hurt his tongue and the roof of his mouth. His eyes watered as he took in the bright light of the sun. The pounding of his heart in his chest felt like a hammer. It beat in his ears, setting off a rhythm he hadn’t heard, hadn’t ever bothered to hear, before. It pulsed in his wrists. His fingers. He sucked in a breath and felt his chest expand, tasted dust, smelled the earth. The world expanded and exploded around him, oranges and browns and the glint of sunlight off the metal on his arm.
He held up his fingers. His fingers. They trembled slightly. Light cascaded along them, giving them a million different colors. It broke through the tips of his nails, turning them translucent. His gaze traced the curving lines of veins, the long, jagged edges of the creases in his palms. When he moved his fingers, clenching them, he felt the skin swell and fatten around the joints, skin pushing into skin. He breathed out and felt the air gust around his teeth.
He gasped. Ven.
He looked around. Rocks jutted up to the sky, encasing him within their walls. They shone brown and orange and amber, a vibrant color compared to the light blue-white of the sky. He swiveled around, looking to his right. Nothing. How could there be so much color, yet none that he was looking for? No, wait. He had been turned around – this body had been facing the opposite way from the one he’d taken. Which meant–
There. Behind him lay the bodies he’d placed so carefully on the ground. Neither yet moved. He raced to them, heedless of the young man standing next to them, his keyblade gone now that the battle was won. Instead he became aware of the clothing on him, the tight feel of cloth around his neck and upper arms, the loose legs of his hakama beating against his ankles and calves as he ran. And, before him, the myriad of colors that made up his family. “Ven!” he shouted. “Aqua!”
They didn’t move. All this time, even through the battle for his body, they had yet to wake. His heart, newly reacquired, slammed into overdrive as if making up for lost time.
Then, as he raced forward, Aqua shifted. The blue of her hair fell forward. Terra saw it from the corner of his eyes. Relief pounded thick through him, just in time for panic to set its ice into his veins. Ven. Ven still did not move.
He dropped, nearly skidding, burning his newly regained skin as he fell beside Ven, his arms already reaching out. Ven was limp as Terra turned his head and lifted him. No blood, thank everything. But those beautiful blue eyes did not move. His lips slightly parted his jaw slack as Terra cradled him close. His body was warm, his skin smooth, his clothes starchy. Sensations crowded into him – the bright gold of Ven’s hair, the shine of metal lancing out from his armor, his throat working instinctively as he swallowed. But Ven did not wake.
No. He couldn’t be. Terra had still seen his light. He couldn’t – please, not because of him. He’d thought he’d made it in time.
“Terra…” He heard Aqua’s voice. It was just as lilting as always. The sound was soothing in its reserve. It wasn’t so loud he felt like it blasted against his eardrums. Yet even as he soaked in the sound of his lost friend, he realized he could hear more than just the timbre now. He could hear her emotions. The warble that spoke of unease. “Is it you?”
She feared further battle. Perhaps feared for Ven’s life. He looked up, trying on a small smile. The muscles needed to deliberately move his body felt immense. He nodded. “Yeah. It’s me. You never stopped trying to guide me back.”
Aqua smiled. Tears spilled down her cheeks. They shone in the sunlight. She sniffed. “Yeah,” she nodded. Accepting his return.
That settled, his gaze returned to Ven. He could feel how warm Ven was, how his breath eased in and out of his lips. He was definitely alive. But was he badly injured? Something beyond blood, like a head wound? He was about to maneuver Ven in his grip to check when he felt Ven twitch. He held his breath.
Eyelashes fluttered. Ven’s face scrunched up. His lips twisted into a grimace, then a moue of discomfort. Ven’s head moved, began to lift from Terra’s arm. The strong movement made Terra’s heart finally settle.
Those beautiful blue eyes finally fluttered open. The color of them, the deep lines of the iris. And then he smiled. Terra’s breath caught. “You’re here,” Ven whispered.
The sound washed through him. He could see Ven’s lips move as he spoke, could see the bright glitter in his eyes as he smiled. The time he’d spent trapped, the suffering he’d been through. The pain and awkwardness as he struggled to adjust to his own body once more. None of it mattered. He felt tears gather like pinpricks in his eyes and smiled right back. “I heard you, Ven,” he said, and got to hear his voice hitch. Ven reacted to it, pushed himself up to sit better before latching his gaze on Terra’s face again. Terra didn’t drop his hand from Ven’s back. He never wanted to stop feeling the solid warmth of Ven’s body. The realness of him. Wetness burned at his eyes, coated his nose and cheeks. The tears slipped down unchecked. “You found me. Just like you promised.”
Ven reached up and touched Terra’s cheek. The tears itched as they tracked down his face; Ven wiped them away, his eyes wide. “Always,” Ven whispered, and grabbed Terra’s shoulder. Ven used him as leverage and launched himself up, slanting his lips onto Terra’s. He held Terra’s shoulders tight.
It was all he needed. Terra grabbed Ven around his back, clung to the heavy fabric of his shirt, and tilted his mouth on Ven’s. The sensations were all too much – the softness of Ven’s lips, the heat of his breath, the soft sounds laced with every movement. And yet none of it was enough. He raised one hand from Ven’s back until it cupped the back of his head. His fingers sifted through the soft flower petal texture of Ven’s hair. He groaned.
He’d almost forgotten this taste. The way Ven’s tongue would chase his, the way his lips would press tight, tighter, as if he could somehow get even closer if he tried. He’d forgotten the heady rush that overtook his head and circled down south, the way his heart skittered and flew and looped around itself as he found himself in Ven’s arms again. He chased after every sensation, digging his fingers into Ven’s hair and back and curling over Ven’s form. His tongue licked Ven’s, mashed against the wall of his gums and tried to sink as far deep as it could. Ven gusted out a breath through his nose, pausing for an instant to breathe in again. Terra took the chance to pull back and leave nip after nip on Ven’s lips.
“U-Um.” Terra heard the voice. It held the same inflection he’d heard earlier – it was the keyblade wielder from before. He pecked Ven on the lips again, then, before he could help himself, again. Ven chased after the sensation. “Uh. Sorry. I guess this is kinda a big moment, huh?”
Aqua cleared her throat. “It’s fine. It’s been a long time.”
Aqua. He closed his eyes, relished the taste of Ven with one more swipe, and reluctantly pulled back. He looked to her and reached out one hand. Her eyes widened, but she quickly scooted forward. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, until he had Ven and Aqua both in his arms. “Thank you,” he murmured. He kissed Aqua’s temple, buried his face in Ven’s hair. “Thank you. And you.” He looked up. The wielder was smiling down at them. Terra’s brows furrowed. “Do… I know you?”
The young man shook his head. “Nah.” He pointed to himself. “The name’s Sora. It’s nice to meet you, Terra.”
Sora. Terra took in the spiky brown hair and big blue eyes, so similar to Ven’s. Why did he think he knew… his eyes widened. “Wait.” Eleven years. He paled. “Are you – you’re Riku’s friend. His important person.”
Suddenly it was obvious. His looks hadn’t changed so drastically in the past decade that he’d lost his key features – that spiky hair being one of them. Had so much time really passed? Had… had he left the boy he’d chosen to be a keyblade wielder alone for so long?
Sora’s eyes widened. His cheeks flushed crimson red. “Y-You know Riku?”
“Oh, that’s right.” Aqua covered her lips. She pulled away from the hug, but only marginally. Ven shot Terra and Aqua both a scrunched-face look that said he was hardly following the conversation. “You passed on the ability to wield keyblades to Riku.”
Ven’s jaw dropped. “You did?”
“I left him alone for so long,” he murmured. “What must he have thought?” His lips firmed. “I’ll make it right.”
Sora shook his head. “Aqua and Ventus need rest,” he said, his voice gentle. “Look after them.” He turned to leave, just like that.
Ven grunted. Terra looked at him as he stood. He saw Ven’s legs shake. “No, Sora,” Ven said. "I’m going, too.” He took a stumbling step forward. Terra surged after him, hand outstretched, just as Ven’s legs fumbled. Ven caught himself before he could touch him. Terra froze, not wanting to hold Ven back, but not wanting him to go. His breath hitched.
Sora paused and looked back at them. “That’s what he wants,” the young man said, “for us to make a mistake – put ourselves in danger,” and Terra was caught in the knowledge that this young man – and Riku, therefore, as well – had grown up. Perhaps his looks were largely the same, but he was no longer the kid trying to get his best friend to spill his newly acquired secret. He mourned the loss of his own time, the chance to see them grow. And yet he found himself awed, humbled. This child had become someone special, all on his own merit. Riku must have become someone to behold, as well.
Ven hung his head. Slowly, Terra dared reach out for Ven’s hand. Ven looked at him when Terra’s fingers wrapped around his. He still frowned, but he squeezed Terra’s fingers tight.
“Sora, go,” Aqua said. She came up to stand beside Terra. “We’ll catch up with you.”
Terra turned back to Sora and nodded. “Be safe.”
Sora’s grin was wide and bright. Just like Ven’s. “Right. I got this.” He turned and left.
“He’s grown,” Terra murmured, watched Sora recede beyond the rocky walls.
“He’s a great guy,” Ven said, with the tone of someone who deeply knew what he was saying. Terra wanted to know everything – everything he’d missed. Everything that had happened. He wanted to relearn Ven’s skin, his laugh, his touch. He gently tugged Ven back, until he bumped into Terra’s chest. Ven looked up at him and stilled. “I missed you,” he whispered.
“I missed you, too.” Terra slid his fingers between Ven’s. “I thought about you. And Aqua,” he said quickly, not wanting her to feel left out. She just rolled her eyes and smiled.
“Get the googly eyes over with, and then we’ll fill you in on the essential details. You can make up for lost time once we stop Xehanort.”
He frowned, remembering the feel of countless Xehanorts up ahead. Sora had told him to look after Ventus and Aqua. That meant danger still waited for them. He squeezed Ven’s hand one more time, then pulled away. He called out his keyblade. It felt so natural, and so strange, to have its weight back in his hand. He focused on the edge of familiarity and ignored the rest for later. “I’m going to hold you to that,” he said. He caught Ven’s quick grin just before he gave a snort of laughter.
“Yes, yes.” She leaned up and kissed Terra’s cheek. “Are you two finished?”
“One last thing.” Aqua rolled her eyes and pursed her lips to hide the fond grin. He turned to Ven and cupped his cheek. “I haven’t been able to say this in eleven years. So. I love you.”
Ven grinned. Tears slowly filled his eyes. “I love you, too.”
He smiled. “All right, Aqua.” He turned to her to find her eyes had misted, as well. “Tell me what I need to know.”