Chapter Text
Ah, I see there is someone new in this old room. Well let me tell you a story….
The Worlds were once the World. And the World did not know anything but the fusion. There was no light, no darkness, no realm in between. There were only the hearts of a few people, in the heart of the land, in the pulsing beat of the world. Time moved forward, and there lies a man with an eye in his time, and an eye far ahead in my story. This man saw the world break, and in the calamity, nothing survived. Not even the mind who had seen the tragedies before that point could survive the end of the fairy tales. And so, Fate had been born into the world in a book, and a projection. Kids sacrificed to this fate were countless, and in the darkness of the war the first source of light was seen. The keyblade war. Kingdom Hearts. Words that bring conflict to so many outside of the ranks of keyblade wielders. Should the keys have been used to sacrifice so many hearts to the light? No, far too many hearts were raised to kingdom hearts. The cloud of darkness eventually formed a twisted realm of its own, taking too many lost hearts and souls into its depths. The realm of Darkness.
Sora...well he didn’t awake. He hoped he didn’t, at least. It was dark. It wasn’t real. It shouldn’t be. He came to awareness.
It felt like when in school they talked about the past. There was a sense of importance, of sanctimony. It smelled like his bed though. If he strained his ears hard enough he could hear water. But it was so far away. Was he underwater? He looked up. Dark. If he was there was no hope. A dream in slumber…
Slumber of the Maiden, The Oldest of the Fairy Tales, The First Hope.
White birds flew out from under him, revealing a stained glass window as green as the leaves of the paopu fruit, almost familiar but not quite.
A much more familiar voice, a friend from his darkest moments spoke up: So much to do
Another: So little time
A brief silence. A slap of the heart.
The first voice says “Take your time, don’t be afraid.” The second voice, a bit miffed, responds with an almost taunting “The door is still shut! Step forward, or can you not even do that!”
Sora paid them little mind. He was much more fascinated by the heart pulsing below him. There's a sadness to her...at least the dwarves are by her side, and the spirit of the forest. He’s sure those give her much more privacy then the two bickering voices in the back. Soon, the pedestals raise, and the three tools of a wielder appear.
The Shield, the first and eternal mission of the keyblade wielders, the duty to Protect. Sora didn’t much care about duty however, but the ability to protect one's friends is nice.
The Staff, the manifestation of Power, the burden of the keyblade wielders, the truth unique to them, and the truths that lie among the worlds. To Sora, he knew the importance of truth, but didn’t quite get why it had power?
The Sword, a reminder of the terrible deeds, and the oath of each keyblade to defeat the heartless, to drain them, to take them into the light for they must. Sora cared not for the quest of destruction, and yet the sword still called for him.
And he made the choice not made in a long time.
He chose all three.
The voices stopped arguing for a second, to congratulate him.
The Keyblade of Light begrudgingly accepted the choice.
Ah, I seem to have not seen you before. My apologies, how rude of me as the caretaker not to notice you. Here, sit down and let me tell you a story.
Long ago, before darkness had a life, there was a form that walked across the land. Darkness. They were not bound to the realm like the hearts that fell to darkness, and myths swirled around them. They say that she was a general in a great war fought at the birth of her realm. They say that he traveled the world, losing self and form by the orders of a black box as foreboding as his realm. They didn’t know of course, that they were simply Darkness. He spread it like a plague, the fledgeling lands falling under his thumb like dolls, houses of cheaply made accessories.
They say that he stood at daybreak, saw the light that occupied it, and snuffed it out in the Red Night. They claim that the realm of darkness became so stuffed with shadows that its forms could enter the rest of the people, until a Wizard made creatures and released them upon that realm, binding it to dreams, forming a Realm of Sleep. They say that a Mechanist, pursuing a way to predict the disasters, to measure them and save the people, created a realm of beings with no hearts, of souls and minds existing in a cold state, a Realm of Data. I personally believe that the collective memories probably made their own realm, but I am a simple tavern owner, what do I know. Soon, the realm of light and darkness began to touch without the interference of People. Twilight, Dawn, Dusk. A realm of inbetween, and in a fine line between, they claim there is a mountain where all feelings fade, where the body fades in an instant, where the Soul becomes Nothing.
But still the Light stayed together.
Snow White’s stained glass window fled, seperating into birds once again. (Sora wondered how he knew that name. He had never seen her face before...and yet he felt a deeper connection.) The next window of midnight purples framed a face with hope and dreams. Sora, being as young as he was, recognized it.
Dreams are a wish the heart makes. Her dreams would remain pure, crystal clear, no selfishness clouding her heart.
He walks forward tentatively. The last platform felt safe...but this one…there's something off about it.
Its not safe.
The shadows nodded in agreement.
The shadows spread from the edges, from Sora’s feet, and for a few seconds, theres only a gripping fear. What can he do. The shadows will take him. Is this the end of the dream? But it feels real.
He doesn’t want to find out what happens when you die in sleep.
The First voice, playfully, calls out “You’ve gained the power to Fight! There’s no need to be afraid, come on!”
And suddenly there was a staff in sora’s hand, and it flashes with a light. The bugs around him burn away, and suddenly he can breathe again. Did he do that? Is this his power? He turns to the heartless, the staff turning into a shield, he rammed into the enemies. They piled up even away from the shield, a wall of pressure pushing them into a pile. The sword in his hands pushed down. This was his dream. He was in control.
For how long.
“BEHIND YOU!” In two clashing voices, too similar to be normal.
Sora jumped, the claws aimed for his heart clawing at his leg instead, a dark scar forming, the veins popping in purples and black, hurting much more than any splinter from the play island. He aims the Rod, spinning it until the head flies off, the rod fading, transforming into a terminal. Sora, not knowing what this transformation is, types in it, hoping something happens. The dream seemed to bend, swallowing the shadow whole, then tossing it to the other shadows, bouncing between them like a ping pong ball.
He smiles. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. Its kinda...fun, learning what he can do. Riku won’t be able to stop him.
A cheeky smile.
Oh, are you new here? I’m afraid my memory isn’t quite what it used to be, or perhaps the old tales are true, ehehehe. Speaking off…
Soon after Darkness left, for a reason no one quite knows, the age of fairy tales had begun to start. I believe its the darkness that began to grow in people’s hearts, like the legendary wrath of the queen in red, or the insidious envy of the gray lady.
They claim that the Seven Great Darknesses of Fairy Tales each had a princess they tormented, purified of shadow through the magic of fairy tales. I never really believed that, too pretty. But I wasn’t there, wouldn’t have survived the cataclysm that ended it. But thats a story for another time, ain’t it?
I know that many worlds were nearly torn asunder from the darkness of a few hearts, that the light began to fight back with a ferociousness that consumed many. Husks of Light began to be quite common place, knights that fought against whiffs of darkness. They never got there before the end of the tale, and yet always manages to stop another one from coming. They were ruthless, wielding tools that scrubbed any darkness from the hearts of folk, that travel between lands broke down. There was no courage to cross their borders, for everyone had a spot of darkness in their hearts. And that meant becoming a husk at the border. First the merchants avoided them, for to be a merchant was to have at least a stiff peak of whipped greed, then the royals, for their soldiers had seen tragedies. The children were the only ones that crossed, and so the stories that they passed along were the only way to know whats happening to the land.
They say that the wielders of light also spread some news, but it was never useful. Boasts of how much darkness had been squashed. They say that the children had a rhyme,
“Realm of Darkness holds the light,
For nowhere else is there a fight”
But who knows. Stories can’t be trusted, you know?
Sora walked down a stairway of glass. He wondered why the hearts of Cinderella and Snow White pulsed so slowly, so scared. He had barely known them for a dream, but he couldn’t help it. After the first heart they held in it it became normal to feel the pulse of life in people. It helped him know when to tell his mom he broke the dishes, and when to sweep it away to keep his mom from crying about being alone. It told him that kairi was still alive after falling.
He didn’t know what it told him about Riku, but it was very loud.
He hopes it doesn’t hurt him.
He tried to help once, but Riku simply shied away.
The next glass station was pink, and it felt...wispy. Uncertain. Like the future wasn’t set in stone. But they beat with much more strength. They were safe. They were fine. Suddenly, three figures rose from the pink, rising on pedestals of wood, swirling above the darkness. The tree looked familiar, like the one from the play island.
Sora grinned, and became as approximately a monkey as I can describe, and even more so. A wild child at heart, swinging up branches and trying to get to the top.
He was always good about reaching towards the sky. It felt safe.
The top had three childhood friends, and yet.
The faces were blank.
Glassy.
Empty.
There was no faces on them.
They hung limply.
They were a dream.
He was still alone.
The girl, blankly, with a voice as hollow as the darkness that used to be around them.
“What's most important to you.”
Sora couldn’t speak. He could think but they didn’t come out. He...he had to say something. He knew, didn’t he?
“My Friendships, yeah! I want to be able to make as many as I can, because that's what's important to me!”
Why was he so confident.
He was filled with doubt.
He was filled with fear.
And yet the answer came out like it was rehearsed.
The girl fades to water, falling into the land below the wood.
The Tall figure asks
“What's you most prized possession”
This time it echos, as if the size of the body wasn’t filled in
As if there was nothing inside.
“To see what I can of the world! There are people willing to be friends that are out there, who are sad and scared, and I want to help them!”
Images of two princesses he had seen already come to his mind.
He hoped the sand that fell in the wind understood that.
There was only one form left.
The fighter.
“What are you so afraid of.”
It sounded like something that Tidus would say.
But it was haunting.
It wasn’t him.
It had only the appearance of spunk.
“Of getting old! When I’m old I won’t be able to think like I once was, and my precious memories might fade away, and I don’t want that! I want to remember”
The world faded to wind.
He was falling.
He couldn’t breathe.
He was gonna wake up any second.
He was gonna wake up.
Please.
Ah, its dark out stranger. Come in, come in, it's dangerous to be out in a dark storm.
I can tell you a story of a dark storm that ravaged the lands, breaking the Realm of Light into worlds.
They say there was a cataclysm, started by the overwhelming light of the Realm.
Sora’s shadow grows, grows into a form too large much too large oh god whats he going to do how can he defeat it.
No one knows the details. At least no one you want to know. Everyone who saw it went a little bit mad. The heirs to the keyblade legacy claim that there was a darkness so monumental, so immense, that their steps consumed as many hearts as any army could. The princesses, using the powers of their light, took as many people as they could, gathering them in a bunker of impenetrable glass, of dreams and whims and joys and sorrows and heartbreak and bonds.
They couldn’t save them all.
Sora could no longer access the tools of dream. Why? Was it the fear? Was it the hopelessness? Was he not the one who should have been in this realm? Was it Riku? Was he destined to fail? Or was it his choices?
A third voice calls out, gentle and kind: Worry not, Sora. I have chosen you. “Go out, and save the World’s of Light. Reach out, and I will always be there.”
“You are the Wielder of Light. I hope you do not disappoint me.”
A key appeared in his hand.
They say that there was a storm that lasted for a week, every day a new face appearing at the side of the box. There were eyes more crazed than any we imagine. Our friends, our family, they hit the box the first day. They were coated with darkness, clouds of it that surrounded them. We had no wielders inside. We could not save them. But they could not come in, the princesses would not allow them even if our sorrows grew. The kids started sharing fairy tales to keep themselves happy, laughing at the jokes they put in. I remember a blue man acting as a projector for some of their stories. They were the only reason the darkness was tolerable.
Reality was quite heavy in dreams, Sora found out. The keyblade swung sluggishly, it didn’t move like the light of the staff, or the blade, or the shield. It moved like a slug, taking all his strength to do an overhead swing.
And the glass rang when he missed.
It glowed.
The shadow man didn’t like that.
Sora swung in defense of himself.
The swing didn’t feel different.
The hand didn’t seem to be there anymore.
The keyblade hit the ground again. The light was even brighter this time.
The days passed on, but soon the adults began retelling the fairy tales as well, telling each other little jokes about the lands. The second day was when the scratches were the loudest. They were so angry...but we could at least laugh the second day.
Soon, the darkness became smarter. By the third day, it tried to eat the shelter whole. Jokes about the belly of the whale were common, until the darkness faded, leaving nothing behind. In the storm, Nothing also raged, expanding itself into a realm where no light and no darkness could be. We saw the border of it, and while the darkness scares me...nothing haunts me. There's something about silence. It gets to you. Even the greatest darkness has life. It exists.
Sora was gaining on the Giant, the darkness moving like putty to avoid the key. If only he had the strength to put some skill to the swings, maybe he would have already won.
After losing its hand, the wings on the Form grew, grew and grew and grew until they could lift the form far away, and in its lack of hearts, he gathered the darkness, the pain from the hand. A fire that consumed light flew from it, flying slowly, burning away the light emanating from the form of the sleeping beauty. Sora swung at the fire, and a few runes on the keyblade lit up. The third voice whispered: pure, and he said it aloud. The keyblade rang as a rose of light returned to the Giant. The runes kept glowing, each dark flame returning to its master, wrapping him in the Roses of Aurora. Briars binding him. He dove to the platform, crashing and removing the roses from him.
There was an anger in the yellow that wasn’t there before.
The fourth day was one of the best. They may not tell you this, but merchants are aware of their greed. We all respected them back in the day, for they would gather the crystals hidden away in the worlds and avoid the borders to allow us to have them for warmth, for science. The shadows did not know this, and appealed to their greed with clinking coins. We made jokes about a dragon, with merchants telling us about the different gems and where to find them, not wanting the knowledge to be lost. They told us of the wonders of the world, and the cultures they had seen. Soon people began to talk about their homes. The princesses smiled in their ring, happy that they were protecting what matters.
People.
The darkness has spawned swarths of shadows, shaping them with the darkness inside of themselves, forming soldiers of darkness.
Sora was learning how the keyblade wanted to be swung. It was really quite hard. It had a very specific way that it wanted to be used, and those swings felt as light as a feather, making the next hit possible. With the kingdom key, it was almost a dance. It was a keyblade of great import, and was to be used that way. Sometimes, he swung it just right and a blast of light would emerge from the end, putting a slash in the body of darkside.
The dream would end soon. But it would end on his terms.
The fifth day, they teased us. They made it seem like it was the real world again. But we could still hear the lightning. We could feel the darkness. No one came out. The next day they tried to turn us to darkness. No one came out. The last day there was quiet. There was a form, a man. He said that anyone who felt they could match the might of darkness, come outside. No one did.
The 8th day, there was no shape. There was only a black space. Then the kids started talking about stars. God I remember how happy they were that stars were appearing. None of us saw them...until we did. And suddenly there was so much light...and we settled down.
What's your name anyways, Stranger?
Sora was alone.
Ah, I’m sure you remember the name, actually. My first name.
Luxu.
The darkness was still there. Eating him.
I-I… please don’t kill me…..
You remember too much. You really should be more careful with your stories, old man. But I have to give props for the performance, one of the best I’ve seen. Shame it’ll be your last one.
Y-you know the world’s truth will fall apart, especially with the stars! I-I only remember because its already breaking…
He couldn’t breathe.
Ah, thats what makes this ingenious! I check people’s memories of the cataclysm just as they won’t be able to come back, because the cycles of the world are finally breaking down. You’ll probably come back next time anyways, won’t you? Just without your memories.
Y-you and I-I both know that-thats not how it works!
Ah, you don’t know?
Im not the guy who knows time. Just space.
He couldn’t see.
Welp, thats one geezer down. Shame this world will fall apart, couldn’t help but like it. Had a nice smell. Best drinks in 3 systems.
He couldn’t hear.
He couldn’t wake up.