(no subject)
Title: Trinity~ Prologue
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Pairing: N/A
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Eventually, violence, possible language, and a certain amount of adult content. Oh, and OCs up the butt. Yeah.
Word Count: 2895
A/N: So, I’m one of those people who takes stuff on FFR, with people saying these concepts are TERRIBLE and RIDICULOUS and CLICHÉ as a challenge, not a warning. I say to myself, “Hey, I can do that! I can make that plausible and un-terrible!” And so I do things like this. So. Organization children, an original Keyblade wielder, and worlds neither Disney nor Square-Enix. CAN IT BE DONE? God, I hope so. So, KHFFR Buddies, is this worth continuing? Or have I summarily failed the challenge?
A memory that burns in the future
A shadow, more real than the light itself
I want to step through the mirror and see what’s on the other side
I want to step through your dreams and see what’s born by sleep
*****
The small, cluttered room was dark and virtually silent, filled with the stale air of an ancient, unopened tomb. Low tables filled it, stalked with books, beakers, and Bunsen burners, all of them caked in a thick layer of dust. Numerous shelves ringed the walls, filled with more tomes and scientific equipment. It looked like the storeroom of a research laboratory, one that had been shut down years ago. Only one thing made the room any kind of remarkable, and it was sitting against one wall, in a break between shelves.
It was a large, silver egg-shaped pod that let off a faint blue glow, the only source of light in the room. Its surface shined from the light and was clean of dust, despite having been in the room as long as anything else. There was a narrow window on the front of the pod, letting out the most light, but the glass was smoked. The only thing visible inside was a vague dark shape.
A low hum came from the pod, the sole sound in the otherwise dead room, but after a while, it slowly tapered off. The room took on a muffled silence for several long moments, until it was shattered by the hiss of rushing air. A crack formed in the silver metal and it suddenly spread wide, blue light pouring from the opening. Water rushed out, spilling across the floor and washing away the dust.
From inside the pod came the sound of coughing, and a tan, long-fingered hand slowly reached out and wrapped around the lip of the opening, followed by a muscular leg stepping barefoot onto the damp floor. At last, a woman emerged, standing in the blue illumination that poured out behind her. Long, silver hair clung to her coldly beautiful face and down her back. Water trickled down full curves and over the sharp line of muscle, while her fierce green eyes scanned over the room. There was nothing in her gaze but cold calculation.
On the edge of the table closest to her was a pile of crumpled leather. She stepped forward a few paces and lifted it up, finding that it was a long coat. Under it was a pair of pants, gloves, and boots. Calmly, she pulled them all one, item by item, ignoring the way the clothes clung to her damp skin. They all fit her perfectly, as if they had been made for her.
Her gloved fingers traced over the thick dust as she walked by the table. She looked over the titles of several books, seeing little that interested her. Biology, genetics, physics, sciences of every kind. But one book was splayed open, and when she looked at the pages, it seemed to be a handwritten journal.
She picked it up and flipped idly through the pages until she came to a large chart, which stretched over both halves of the book. The rows were incredibly narrow, and there were easily fifty, the writing cramped and almost illegible. They were labeled with numbers, names that seemed distantly familiar and ones that seemed entirely new. And one particular column, which was titled “Success?” She dragged a finger down the line, seeing several “Ys” and even more “Ns.”
Then a spark of inspiration struck. She looked at the pod, then back at the book, seeing the numeral I in both. She looked down the row; “Gender, female,” “Parent alpha,” “Parent beta,” on and on. But then there was the column “Name.”
Sanmarixe.
A smile twisted her thin lips, and she bared her perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. It had a nice ring. Yes. It fit.
Suddenly, she heard the creek of a door behind her and whirled to face it. Without even thinking, she extended her hand, and with a crackle of energy, there was something there, a massive crimson scythe. Eyes narrowed, she watched as the door swung open, and a man stood there.
He was tall, sturdy looking, and, she supposed, rather handsome, although she had little to compare. His face was stern, his green eyes serious behind the gold frames of his glasses, and his nearly black hair was cut severely short. She noticed, as well, that he was dressed in identical clothes as she was.
“Who are you?” she asked imperiously, in a low, rich voice.
“I was hoping you could tell me that,” he said dryly, standing perfectly still, hands behind his back. Despite the fact that she was holding a massive weapon pointed directly at him, he did not waver in the slightest. “I am afraid I am without that information. I just woke up, you see, without the slightest clue where or who I am.” His eyes flicked to the side briefly, and she knew he was looking at the pod. “But I suppose you are in the same metaphorical boat.”
She took a moment to scrutinize him but could see no sign of a lie in his face. Slowly, she lowered her scythe, letting it rest on the floor for the moment. “I was. Do you remember if your pod was numbered?”
He arched an eyebrow and pursed his lips, looking like he was about to question her. He did not, however, and finally, he answered. “A two, I think. Why…?”
She quickly held up a hand to silence him, then picked up the book once again. Her eyes flicked to the “Number” column once more and she found the two. “Nexilo,” she said, at last. “Your name is Nexilo. And you may call me Sanmarixe.”
He smiled thinly, a look that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “A pleasure to meet you then, Sanmarixe. Any idea what we should do next?”
“What we should do next,” Sanmarixe repeated, eyeing the Success column of the journal. “…Is see about waking up the rest of them.”
*****
The entry hall to the castle was massive and utterly empty, filled only with shadows and cobwebs. The great structure had obviously been out of use for some time, which suited Maleficent just fine. And while it might not have had the grandeur of Disney Castle, it would do. For now.
“Wow, dis here’s some kinda place, huh, Maleficent?”
Maleficent looked at her hulking crony, Pete, with a mixture of irritation and exhaustion. He was only just useful enough to let her keep justifying having him around, but her patience was wearing thinner and thinner.
“It is satisfactory,” she said coldly. Then she flashed him a mirthless smile. “Or, at least, it will be, once you’ve finished cleaning it.”
She left him, sputtering indignantly, and glided across the hall, examining the architecture and already planning her next attack. She had been undercut too many times, by the Keyblade brat, by those hooded ingrates, and especially by that Mouse. This time, she would be the one wielding the power. She would be the one in control.
Soon, the Heartless would be at her beck and call once again. She would tempt new allies, crush new worlds, and amass power greater than had ever been known by any mortal or immortal. Yes. And here is where it would start, in her beautiful new palace.
“You know, it’s usually polite to announce yourself before entering someone’s home.”
She turned slowly, and from the shadow of a curving staircase slithered what looked just like another shadow. Except shadows, she reflected, usually did not have eyes and mouths of their own, let alone ones that leered like Jack O’ Lanterns. The figure, who was slightly darker than the room around him, swept his arms wide and chortled.
“Ah, Maleficent, always a clever witch,” he rasped, his face twisted in a smug grin. “I knew I couldn’t hide from you for too long.”
He might have been amused, but Maleficent was far from it. She pointed her staff sharply at him. “Cut the chit-chat. Who are you?”
“Who am I?” chortled the shadow. “Ah, where are my manners? I am the universally feared, the terrible, the merciless, the Phantom Blot. And I am here with a proposition for you, oh wicked Maleficent.”
“A proposition?” she asked, not doing anything to hide the suspicion in her voice. “And what would that be, Mr.…Blot.”
“I know that you seek power, Maleficent,” the Phantom Blot began. “And I want to help you get it. I have a few powerful friends at my command, who I would be more than happy to lend into your service. You will, of course, keep your castle, all will answer to you, and you will know chaos as never before. With my help, you can bring all the worlds to their knees.”
Maleficent snorted. “And what do you want in return, then? Because the cost must be high, with such an offer.”
“I just want power, just like you,” the Blot said, squeezing one of his black hands into a fist. “Together, we can rule this Multiverse, and everything in it. I came to you out of a sense of respect. I didn’t want to have to fight against you, but rather, with you. Mutual command instead of mutual destruction, you see.”
“A tempting bargain,” Maleficent replied, airily. “But what if I were to refuse?”
“Oh,” the Blot snickered. “I wouldn’t advise that at all.”
With a snap of his fingers, a gate of darkness suddenly opened behind him with a flash of violet and black. In the gloom, Maleficent watched as figures approached and stepped into the hall. One was already holding a wicked looking scythe, while another leered at her with his painted face. A third flipped his, or perhaps her, hair idly.
“We can settle this peacefully,” the Phantom Blot said, smirking. “Or quite the opposite. It is your choice, Maleficent.”
Maleficent looked warily at the slowly growing crowd behind the Phantom Blot. Just how strong they were, she didn’t know, but they had the advantage of numbers. She just had Pete. It only took her a moment to decide that the odds were not in her favor and that a fight wouldn’t be worth it - yet.
“Fine, Blot,” Maleficent said at last, letting none of her wariness show on her face. She was nothing if not composed. “We have a deal.”
“Excellent!” the Blot crowed, cackling. “Then say hello to your new boss, boys! And say hello to the meanest team the worlds will ever know!”
*****
Sixteen Months Later
Standing in the throne room of Disney Castle, Queen Minnie was worried. She did not show it; there was no wringing of hands, no nervous glances, no tears. But all the same, her heart was troubled, full of fear. It had been eleven months since King Mickey had left with Goofy and Donald, six since they’d fallen off the map. And just last month, they’d lost track of Sora, Riku, and Kairi.
“I’m afraid our options are quite limited at this juncture,” Merlin said solemnly, stroking his long, silver beard. “Without the Keyblades to defend us, if the Heartless were to attack, we would be quite vulnerable.”
Minnie sighed softly and steeled her resolve again. It was something she was becoming quite used to doing. “What are our options, Merlin?”
He hummed softly in thought. “Well, if we keep all our men here, it is possible that we could at least protect the castle for a short while if the Heartless were to attack. I expect we might survive a week, at most, under a concentrated attack.”
“Or?” she prompted.
“There…is a possibility,” he said, sounding wary of even voicing the thought. “We could try and find new Keyblade wielders. If the King and Sora truly are in some state of danger, more wielders might have emerged. If that were the case, we could use them to go out and find the King, and possibly stop what’s happening out there. But that is only a chance, and we would have to sacrifice some of our defenders to do so.”
Again, Minnie sighed, and looked down at her hands. To protect the castle, Mickey’s castle, or to try and save those important to her at the cost of their own world. It was a heavy choice to make, but she knew, deep down, what Mickey would say to do if he were here. She looked up again, her eyes full of unflinching determination.
“Send in the Interim Captain of the Guard and Donald’s head apprentice,” she said immediately. “I have a mission for them.”
Merlin nodded, then disappeared with a pop.
A few minutes later, the door to the throne room opened wide, and Merlin appeared next to her once again. Through the door trudged first a tall, lanky young man in patches of armor and sunglasses. Behind him came a short young duck, her red hair tied back and a quiver of arrows tied over one shoulder. They both walked before Mickey, side-by-side, and saluted.
“Your Majesty!” they echoed.
Minnie smiled serenely. “Max, Gosalyn, I am glad to see you here. I have a very important mission for the both of you, one I cannot trust to anyone else.”
A look of excitement passed between the two, which Minnie didn’t miss.
“As you both surely know, King Mickey left the castle almost a year ago, intending to find out why worlds have been disappearing to the Heartless again,” she began. “He regularly reported back for the first several months, but then nothing. Eventually, we called upon Sora, Riku, and Kairi to aid us in finding him. They, too, though, have vanished.
“With more worlds vanishing, we are running out of options. That is why I have asked you two here. I want you to go out and find the newest Keyblade wielders. Together, you must find the King and Sora, and try to stop this darkness. It will be incredibly dangerous, but there is no other option. I cannot stand by and wait for someone to attack us first. Of course, I will not force the two of you into danger, but…”
“Oh, no problem there, Your Majesty!” Gosalyn cut in quickly, grinning. “I am more than willing to, uh, rush into danger for the good of the Kingdom. Really.”
“Uh, yeah, Your Majesty,” Max agreed, nodding. “I’m ready to go, just say the word and point us in the right direction.”
Still smiling, Minnie shook her head slowly. “I knew I could trust you both. Now, take a Gummi ship and head for Traverse Town. I suspect that you will likely find some information there that will help you on your journey.”
“Yes, Your Majesty!” the two shouted again, snapping to salutes again.
“Off you go, then,” Minnie said, nodding. “We haven’t a moment to spare.”
And the two were gone in a flash, almost racing each other to the hangar. Minnie smiled after them, sadly, and Merlin spoke from above her.
“Are you sure that they can do this?” he asked, kindly. “It will be a very difficult journey.”
“We must have faith in them, Merlin,” Minnie replied sternly. Because they are our last hope, she added to herself alone. Because if they fail, we’re out of chances. Because if they fail, Mickey may never return, and may not have a home to return to even if he tries.
And so, Minnie put her faith in the heroes she had to believe were out there, possibly a million miles away.
*****
Far away, on the small, humble world of Evergreen Shore, a young man was jolted from sleep and sat up in bed, gasping, with cold sweat clinging to his body. He drew in a shuddering breath and ran a hand through his tangled hair, trying to make any kind of sense of what he just experienced. The images where already starting to tangle together inside his head, painted through stained glass light.
He could still hear the skittering of claws over smooth ground, the rumble as a giant stomped upon the earth. He could still feel the bitterly cool air, the burning in his muscles, the rush of black smoke in his face. He could still feel the silky brush of living darkness on his skin. Staring into the shadows of his room, he half expected to see golden eyes burning back at him but, mercifully, it was not to be. If he had, he wouldn’t have been surprised to find his heart stop instantly.
But things were already fading fast, dissolving like mist in the heat of the morning sun. Finally, only words hung in his mind, the last fragments of a dream that had seemed all too real.
You are the one...who will open the door...
With a slow shake of his head, he tried to wish the words away. Tried to wish the splintered memory away. Eventually, he rolled up onto his side, tugging the blanket over his shoulder again. He glared at the green letters of the clock, which proclaimed it was three in the morning.
“Need t’ stop eatin’ pizza ‘fter midnight,” he mumbled sullenly to himself, and then fell asleep again.
This time, his dreams were untroubled.
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Pairing: N/A
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Eventually, violence, possible language, and a certain amount of adult content. Oh, and OCs up the butt. Yeah.
Word Count: 2895
A/N: So, I’m one of those people who takes stuff on FFR, with people saying these concepts are TERRIBLE and RIDICULOUS and CLICHÉ as a challenge, not a warning. I say to myself, “Hey, I can do that! I can make that plausible and un-terrible!” And so I do things like this. So. Organization children, an original Keyblade wielder, and worlds neither Disney nor Square-Enix. CAN IT BE DONE? God, I hope so. So, KHFFR Buddies, is this worth continuing? Or have I summarily failed the challenge?
A memory that burns in the future
A shadow, more real than the light itself
I want to step through the mirror and see what’s on the other side
I want to step through your dreams and see what’s born by sleep
*****
The small, cluttered room was dark and virtually silent, filled with the stale air of an ancient, unopened tomb. Low tables filled it, stalked with books, beakers, and Bunsen burners, all of them caked in a thick layer of dust. Numerous shelves ringed the walls, filled with more tomes and scientific equipment. It looked like the storeroom of a research laboratory, one that had been shut down years ago. Only one thing made the room any kind of remarkable, and it was sitting against one wall, in a break between shelves.
It was a large, silver egg-shaped pod that let off a faint blue glow, the only source of light in the room. Its surface shined from the light and was clean of dust, despite having been in the room as long as anything else. There was a narrow window on the front of the pod, letting out the most light, but the glass was smoked. The only thing visible inside was a vague dark shape.
A low hum came from the pod, the sole sound in the otherwise dead room, but after a while, it slowly tapered off. The room took on a muffled silence for several long moments, until it was shattered by the hiss of rushing air. A crack formed in the silver metal and it suddenly spread wide, blue light pouring from the opening. Water rushed out, spilling across the floor and washing away the dust.
From inside the pod came the sound of coughing, and a tan, long-fingered hand slowly reached out and wrapped around the lip of the opening, followed by a muscular leg stepping barefoot onto the damp floor. At last, a woman emerged, standing in the blue illumination that poured out behind her. Long, silver hair clung to her coldly beautiful face and down her back. Water trickled down full curves and over the sharp line of muscle, while her fierce green eyes scanned over the room. There was nothing in her gaze but cold calculation.
On the edge of the table closest to her was a pile of crumpled leather. She stepped forward a few paces and lifted it up, finding that it was a long coat. Under it was a pair of pants, gloves, and boots. Calmly, she pulled them all one, item by item, ignoring the way the clothes clung to her damp skin. They all fit her perfectly, as if they had been made for her.
Her gloved fingers traced over the thick dust as she walked by the table. She looked over the titles of several books, seeing little that interested her. Biology, genetics, physics, sciences of every kind. But one book was splayed open, and when she looked at the pages, it seemed to be a handwritten journal.
She picked it up and flipped idly through the pages until she came to a large chart, which stretched over both halves of the book. The rows were incredibly narrow, and there were easily fifty, the writing cramped and almost illegible. They were labeled with numbers, names that seemed distantly familiar and ones that seemed entirely new. And one particular column, which was titled “Success?” She dragged a finger down the line, seeing several “Ys” and even more “Ns.”
Then a spark of inspiration struck. She looked at the pod, then back at the book, seeing the numeral I in both. She looked down the row; “Gender, female,” “Parent alpha,” “Parent beta,” on and on. But then there was the column “Name.”
Sanmarixe.
A smile twisted her thin lips, and she bared her perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. It had a nice ring. Yes. It fit.
Suddenly, she heard the creek of a door behind her and whirled to face it. Without even thinking, she extended her hand, and with a crackle of energy, there was something there, a massive crimson scythe. Eyes narrowed, she watched as the door swung open, and a man stood there.
He was tall, sturdy looking, and, she supposed, rather handsome, although she had little to compare. His face was stern, his green eyes serious behind the gold frames of his glasses, and his nearly black hair was cut severely short. She noticed, as well, that he was dressed in identical clothes as she was.
“Who are you?” she asked imperiously, in a low, rich voice.
“I was hoping you could tell me that,” he said dryly, standing perfectly still, hands behind his back. Despite the fact that she was holding a massive weapon pointed directly at him, he did not waver in the slightest. “I am afraid I am without that information. I just woke up, you see, without the slightest clue where or who I am.” His eyes flicked to the side briefly, and she knew he was looking at the pod. “But I suppose you are in the same metaphorical boat.”
She took a moment to scrutinize him but could see no sign of a lie in his face. Slowly, she lowered her scythe, letting it rest on the floor for the moment. “I was. Do you remember if your pod was numbered?”
He arched an eyebrow and pursed his lips, looking like he was about to question her. He did not, however, and finally, he answered. “A two, I think. Why…?”
She quickly held up a hand to silence him, then picked up the book once again. Her eyes flicked to the “Number” column once more and she found the two. “Nexilo,” she said, at last. “Your name is Nexilo. And you may call me Sanmarixe.”
He smiled thinly, a look that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “A pleasure to meet you then, Sanmarixe. Any idea what we should do next?”
“What we should do next,” Sanmarixe repeated, eyeing the Success column of the journal. “…Is see about waking up the rest of them.”
*****
The entry hall to the castle was massive and utterly empty, filled only with shadows and cobwebs. The great structure had obviously been out of use for some time, which suited Maleficent just fine. And while it might not have had the grandeur of Disney Castle, it would do. For now.
“Wow, dis here’s some kinda place, huh, Maleficent?”
Maleficent looked at her hulking crony, Pete, with a mixture of irritation and exhaustion. He was only just useful enough to let her keep justifying having him around, but her patience was wearing thinner and thinner.
“It is satisfactory,” she said coldly. Then she flashed him a mirthless smile. “Or, at least, it will be, once you’ve finished cleaning it.”
She left him, sputtering indignantly, and glided across the hall, examining the architecture and already planning her next attack. She had been undercut too many times, by the Keyblade brat, by those hooded ingrates, and especially by that Mouse. This time, she would be the one wielding the power. She would be the one in control.
Soon, the Heartless would be at her beck and call once again. She would tempt new allies, crush new worlds, and amass power greater than had ever been known by any mortal or immortal. Yes. And here is where it would start, in her beautiful new palace.
“You know, it’s usually polite to announce yourself before entering someone’s home.”
She turned slowly, and from the shadow of a curving staircase slithered what looked just like another shadow. Except shadows, she reflected, usually did not have eyes and mouths of their own, let alone ones that leered like Jack O’ Lanterns. The figure, who was slightly darker than the room around him, swept his arms wide and chortled.
“Ah, Maleficent, always a clever witch,” he rasped, his face twisted in a smug grin. “I knew I couldn’t hide from you for too long.”
He might have been amused, but Maleficent was far from it. She pointed her staff sharply at him. “Cut the chit-chat. Who are you?”
“Who am I?” chortled the shadow. “Ah, where are my manners? I am the universally feared, the terrible, the merciless, the Phantom Blot. And I am here with a proposition for you, oh wicked Maleficent.”
“A proposition?” she asked, not doing anything to hide the suspicion in her voice. “And what would that be, Mr.…Blot.”
“I know that you seek power, Maleficent,” the Phantom Blot began. “And I want to help you get it. I have a few powerful friends at my command, who I would be more than happy to lend into your service. You will, of course, keep your castle, all will answer to you, and you will know chaos as never before. With my help, you can bring all the worlds to their knees.”
Maleficent snorted. “And what do you want in return, then? Because the cost must be high, with such an offer.”
“I just want power, just like you,” the Blot said, squeezing one of his black hands into a fist. “Together, we can rule this Multiverse, and everything in it. I came to you out of a sense of respect. I didn’t want to have to fight against you, but rather, with you. Mutual command instead of mutual destruction, you see.”
“A tempting bargain,” Maleficent replied, airily. “But what if I were to refuse?”
“Oh,” the Blot snickered. “I wouldn’t advise that at all.”
With a snap of his fingers, a gate of darkness suddenly opened behind him with a flash of violet and black. In the gloom, Maleficent watched as figures approached and stepped into the hall. One was already holding a wicked looking scythe, while another leered at her with his painted face. A third flipped his, or perhaps her, hair idly.
“We can settle this peacefully,” the Phantom Blot said, smirking. “Or quite the opposite. It is your choice, Maleficent.”
Maleficent looked warily at the slowly growing crowd behind the Phantom Blot. Just how strong they were, she didn’t know, but they had the advantage of numbers. She just had Pete. It only took her a moment to decide that the odds were not in her favor and that a fight wouldn’t be worth it - yet.
“Fine, Blot,” Maleficent said at last, letting none of her wariness show on her face. She was nothing if not composed. “We have a deal.”
“Excellent!” the Blot crowed, cackling. “Then say hello to your new boss, boys! And say hello to the meanest team the worlds will ever know!”
*****
Sixteen Months Later
Standing in the throne room of Disney Castle, Queen Minnie was worried. She did not show it; there was no wringing of hands, no nervous glances, no tears. But all the same, her heart was troubled, full of fear. It had been eleven months since King Mickey had left with Goofy and Donald, six since they’d fallen off the map. And just last month, they’d lost track of Sora, Riku, and Kairi.
“I’m afraid our options are quite limited at this juncture,” Merlin said solemnly, stroking his long, silver beard. “Without the Keyblades to defend us, if the Heartless were to attack, we would be quite vulnerable.”
Minnie sighed softly and steeled her resolve again. It was something she was becoming quite used to doing. “What are our options, Merlin?”
He hummed softly in thought. “Well, if we keep all our men here, it is possible that we could at least protect the castle for a short while if the Heartless were to attack. I expect we might survive a week, at most, under a concentrated attack.”
“Or?” she prompted.
“There…is a possibility,” he said, sounding wary of even voicing the thought. “We could try and find new Keyblade wielders. If the King and Sora truly are in some state of danger, more wielders might have emerged. If that were the case, we could use them to go out and find the King, and possibly stop what’s happening out there. But that is only a chance, and we would have to sacrifice some of our defenders to do so.”
Again, Minnie sighed, and looked down at her hands. To protect the castle, Mickey’s castle, or to try and save those important to her at the cost of their own world. It was a heavy choice to make, but she knew, deep down, what Mickey would say to do if he were here. She looked up again, her eyes full of unflinching determination.
“Send in the Interim Captain of the Guard and Donald’s head apprentice,” she said immediately. “I have a mission for them.”
Merlin nodded, then disappeared with a pop.
A few minutes later, the door to the throne room opened wide, and Merlin appeared next to her once again. Through the door trudged first a tall, lanky young man in patches of armor and sunglasses. Behind him came a short young duck, her red hair tied back and a quiver of arrows tied over one shoulder. They both walked before Mickey, side-by-side, and saluted.
“Your Majesty!” they echoed.
Minnie smiled serenely. “Max, Gosalyn, I am glad to see you here. I have a very important mission for the both of you, one I cannot trust to anyone else.”
A look of excitement passed between the two, which Minnie didn’t miss.
“As you both surely know, King Mickey left the castle almost a year ago, intending to find out why worlds have been disappearing to the Heartless again,” she began. “He regularly reported back for the first several months, but then nothing. Eventually, we called upon Sora, Riku, and Kairi to aid us in finding him. They, too, though, have vanished.
“With more worlds vanishing, we are running out of options. That is why I have asked you two here. I want you to go out and find the newest Keyblade wielders. Together, you must find the King and Sora, and try to stop this darkness. It will be incredibly dangerous, but there is no other option. I cannot stand by and wait for someone to attack us first. Of course, I will not force the two of you into danger, but…”
“Oh, no problem there, Your Majesty!” Gosalyn cut in quickly, grinning. “I am more than willing to, uh, rush into danger for the good of the Kingdom. Really.”
“Uh, yeah, Your Majesty,” Max agreed, nodding. “I’m ready to go, just say the word and point us in the right direction.”
Still smiling, Minnie shook her head slowly. “I knew I could trust you both. Now, take a Gummi ship and head for Traverse Town. I suspect that you will likely find some information there that will help you on your journey.”
“Yes, Your Majesty!” the two shouted again, snapping to salutes again.
“Off you go, then,” Minnie said, nodding. “We haven’t a moment to spare.”
And the two were gone in a flash, almost racing each other to the hangar. Minnie smiled after them, sadly, and Merlin spoke from above her.
“Are you sure that they can do this?” he asked, kindly. “It will be a very difficult journey.”
“We must have faith in them, Merlin,” Minnie replied sternly. Because they are our last hope, she added to herself alone. Because if they fail, we’re out of chances. Because if they fail, Mickey may never return, and may not have a home to return to even if he tries.
And so, Minnie put her faith in the heroes she had to believe were out there, possibly a million miles away.
*****
Far away, on the small, humble world of Evergreen Shore, a young man was jolted from sleep and sat up in bed, gasping, with cold sweat clinging to his body. He drew in a shuddering breath and ran a hand through his tangled hair, trying to make any kind of sense of what he just experienced. The images where already starting to tangle together inside his head, painted through stained glass light.
He could still hear the skittering of claws over smooth ground, the rumble as a giant stomped upon the earth. He could still feel the bitterly cool air, the burning in his muscles, the rush of black smoke in his face. He could still feel the silky brush of living darkness on his skin. Staring into the shadows of his room, he half expected to see golden eyes burning back at him but, mercifully, it was not to be. If he had, he wouldn’t have been surprised to find his heart stop instantly.
But things were already fading fast, dissolving like mist in the heat of the morning sun. Finally, only words hung in his mind, the last fragments of a dream that had seemed all too real.
You are the one...who will open the door...
With a slow shake of his head, he tried to wish the words away. Tried to wish the splintered memory away. Eventually, he rolled up onto his side, tugging the blanket over his shoulder again. He glared at the green letters of the clock, which proclaimed it was three in the morning.
“Need t’ stop eatin’ pizza ‘fter midnight,” he mumbled sullenly to himself, and then fell asleep again.
This time, his dreams were untroubled.