"In the depths of every heart, there is a tomb and a dungeon--"

[caliginose]

Who: Terra, Riku, Joe, Aslan, and Master Xehanort
When: Late evening, progressing throughout the night
Where: Dead Horse Cove
Summary: The culmination of the events that began with the theft of Terra’s body - or, arguably, with Xehanort’s arrival in Siren’s Port - that will once and for all put an end to the villain’s reprehensible plans. A goal

Comments

[todomarishi]

The Sentiment found himself facing what might as well have been a wall of light, his charge stopped cold by the immense presence that stood before him. He gave way to its power instinctively, neither advancing forward when it came upon them nor throwing the might of his will against it. Aslan. It was him, he had come. The Sentiment could grasp that much, could recognize that reality as easily as he could familiar hearts and Keyblades, but there was no place for the why's and how's in his mind. Still, the lion's arrival affected him. Clashing emotions surged through the energy lying within and beneath his armor. He couldn't truly feel them, but they were so much a part of him, he couldn't rid himself of the surprise and the relief, nor the fear and the shame that came to rest near his rage, each feeling waiting for such a time that they might be realized and acted on.

But that wasn't going to happen, was it? Even with Aslan, with a light that shone brighter than the hearts of worlds, how could that happen now? He couldn't hope. He had gone too far, strayed so far off the path he'd been set on as a boy he could no longer glimpse that road when he looked back.

It wasn't meant for him. He'd been too weak and too dark. He'd made too many mistakes. He was all he deserved to be, but he still had to destroy Xehanort. Aslan didn't mean to take that from him, did he?

His helmet lifted. He watched as the darkness rallied, becoming something less a despised element and more a monster. A monster made of monsters, all dark, all taken by hatred. Could his heart even survive such chaos called to it? He could no longer sense it or feel its pull, wrapped so thoroughly in Xehanort's vile darkness as it was. Was that it then? Was his light gone for good?

The cage above them wavered, one ripple and then another splashing across the barrier of chains until they began to break apart, leaving the dark to pool through in place of the gold light.

Terra's armor took a step forward, not pressing or interrupting or going around to get at his enemy because his trust in Aslan ran deep and he dared not defy that kind of strength. His movement nonetheless had meaning and, with a slight tightening of his grip on the Keyblade's hilt, was a question and a plea on the behalf of his heart. Even if he could no longer be sure that existed as anything more than an extension of Xehanort's new identity.

"Aslan."

Don't take it from him. Let me.

1/2

[aslandish]

He didn't waver, the veritable eruption of malevolence leaving him unmoved as the master raged at him from across the platform of stone. Truthfully, this was not an outcome he would have chosen. Had the circumstances been anything other than what they were -- an attempt to disrupt the very existence of this world and throw the rest into chaos -- his intervention would not have been needed. As it was, the stakes were too high for him to look the other way, not just for this Creation and others but also for those he had come to know so well.

Acknowledging the presence of the Sentiment beside him, Aslan shifted his gaze, watching him. Though unspoken, the request resounded clearly, a plea that he had no intention of dishonoring. Briefly, he inclined his head, the warmth in those golden eyes no less than it had ever been.

It shall be so.

Before that moment could come, however, one thing yet remained. Undeterred by the surge of dark energies seeking to drive him out, he padded forward in silence, every step somehow seeming to shake the very earth to its foundations. He stopped just short of striking distance, unafraid of the wrath of a man who'd presumed to be more than he was meant to be.

"It was never yours to have."

Kingdom Hearts. The very light that comprised Aslan's being, the absoluteness of it that Xehanort so despised, was the very power Xehanort sought to harness. The man had knowledge, it was true. It was wisdom, however, that he was sorely lacking. In his arrogance, he had not only had the audacity to claim a heart and body that was never his for the taking, but also to attempt to overthrow the Heart of all that lived. There was no theft here other than what Xehanort himself had committed. He had walked his path and made his choices. It was now time to answer for them.

[aslandish]

The master would have the chance to respond as he chose, but short of the man standing down (he would never), Aslan's response would be the same.

Dragging the claws of his right forepaw across the ground, streaks of light rent the swirling blackness, cutting to the very center of the man before him.

Terra.

Another slash of brilliance.

Awake.

And another.

It is time.

A sound more terrible than any other ripped through the enclosure, filling it with fury as it reverberated across the heavens. Aslan roared, and with that singular act, two hearts already beginning to fracture apart were rent in twain.

[caliginose]

Five years away from home.

Five years of training.

Five years of caution. A lifetime of wanting. A single moment when all was clear and a hand on his shoulder that told him no. Wait. Don't.

“Always protect yourself before stepping into the darkness. If you do not, it will take you as it has taken many others. I would not lose my apprentices to such a fate.”

Oh, but he hadn't known! He hadn't seen! The depth, the grandness, the power and knowledge and the opportunity to be had for those that dared to step into the void! There in the blackness all limitations fell away and existence itself became pliable, a tool in his hands, a weapon, a scepter, a crown! He could have wept for them and their ignorance; he could have wailed in pity and impotence while they denied the truths that he held out to the universe with open arms. They were afraid and they were unaware and at every crossroads a cloaked figure pointed the way to truth but it remains infinitely simpler to turn away and choose the safer path. That way was ruin, stagnation, smallness and and helplessness and the bitter sweetness of time and death and endings. He had realized this then and knew it so keenly now and the Light itself could stand in his way but he would not forget, he would not, he would--

How excited he'd been! Another boy, another apprentice, his name was Ventus--

Ventus. So kind and so young but there was darkness in his heart and the potential to wield a Keyblade. It would have to be him despite his frailness, there were no others--

His dream. He'd been waiting his whole life but he'd never thought he could share it like this. He couldn't wait--

Soon. Soon, at last, his dream, his only desire...! He had so little time and he was so very close--

There was no pain. The purifying fire was beyond earthly. There was no pain. Just light and light and light and a sound that shook the sky, very stars themselves in their heavenly beds....no. No, it was closer than that. Far closer. The wave was breaking against the shore at last and oh the place was so small and so narrow and yet the strength of that wave was more than his young mind and small body could comprehend. All his years of waiting and it had found him, come for him, and he was as helpless now as he had been on that day, on every day thereafter.

Had there ever been a time when it was not so?

But--

The great Master fell to his knees and cast over his stolen body was a ghostly copy, one that bore his true face and was edged in gold and shimmering smoke. The two, reality and specter, wavered and overlapped and bled into one another, but the illusion of closeness was simply that - a mirage, a trick of the eye. All his careful, powerful seals had come undone; his spirit was unraveling, falling away, torn and wounded so deep within that all he could do was cling to his very existence in desperation.

His head lifted and his eyes asked the only question there was to ask.

But why?