A World To Small (Open)

It all began here.

Upon these sands once so lonely, still so desolate and small, this world was where the etchings within his heart had instilled that desire to leave such a place. This was where it all began. His inevitable departure twice over, once through time, once by sea. His inevitable return with that feckless apprentice, the would be tool to create the key to unlock the door to his heart’s desire. The return without form to send himself, and that other dull ordinary boy upon their paths time over. The beginning of their pursuit through the Realm of Sleep. All hearts in this story would inevitably be connected to this world, as ironic as it all was. Xehanort’s eyes gazed across the lazy ocean, filled with naught but disappointed that they would cease to change for over sixty years. As many roads as he had traversed, as much chaos that had been left upon them in his wake during his pursuit, these droll little islands still stood untouched, unharmed. The feeblest amount of meddling by that foolish boy, and the tiny king’s lackeys had sheltered this world safely within the harbors of their precious light.

This is what you could never understand, Eraqus. A quiet life was never meant for me.

The elder stood un-noticing of the youth not far from where he took up this pensive mood, just beyond the paopu tree, his back to the rest of the world as his focus remained beyond it. It was not until the mumblings of the equally contemplative teen would be caught on the wind. Xehanort found the faintest traces of a voice in the breeze, turning with a curiosity to look upon a small girl in onyx, casually perched upon the bridge. Another friend to the would be champion of this world? The elder took his time, putting aside his own reminiscence to consider the origins of this enigma. A girl lost in thought, perplexed by her own insecurities, so much like the promising weapon had been in his own time under his wing. That brat Riku also held a fondness for such a behavior, far too similar to himself in any regard. Xehanort applauded an individual whom took the time to sit, to think, to consider one’s options in the world and life carefully in any order. This one appeared too young for such behavior, not scuffling about with wooden swords, or childish games as her peers would doubtlessly prove. It was enough alone to warrant his attention, if only to sate his amusement as he bided his time.

The soft crunch of sand beneath his ebony boots soon became rickety creaks as he left the sand for the bridge. While he had not managed to witness whatever words prior, indistinct as they were, the last few sentences were enough to draw forth a soft smile from the elderly man. ”Yes. Truer words have never been spoken.” Xehanort turned to address the same direction the girl had prior to his approach, his composure unwavering as the smile had left his face. ”I had once uttered them aloud myself, here on these shores. A lifetime ago, yet never a decision I would regret you see.” Xehanort would look down on the girl once more, his expression a cold mask indiscernible of basic emotions. Still he wondered what behooved this child to linger in so mediocre of a place, yet he was quite certain he already held the answer. He could see the desire, the yearning for something greater than this in those eyes. Though there was that same, typical fear holding back yet another heart that need only to embrace the unknown.

Xehanort turned, and proceeded to head away from the girl down the bridge, his destination apparent in the main island. Though the elder would come to a stop, and regard the girl out his peripheral as he had so many others in the past. ”You seek answers, yet are too afraid to look for them? If only you could overcome that fear, embrace what is holding you back.” Xehanort remained calm, serene in his disposition, and attentive to whatever this young girl might direct his way. Perhaps there was something to be gained here, were she to indulge a curious old man the time of day. After all, what harm could befall someone so innocent in a world so peaceful?

What indeed?

The years exploring the worlds to sate his own curiosity had yielded many fruits of truth. One of such told Xehanort that a desire of the heart could not be obtained by simply hesitating, submitting to caution only to simply watch on life’s sidelines as they passed on by. Nothing would give itself up willingly to be studied, investigated and known to oneself. Everything in life needed to be taken, whether by a sly tongue or by ruthless aggression, yet the result was the same. What was desired would be made one’s own, and yet therein belied the ironical paradoxical truth, buried beneath another. For obtaining one desire, another would birth to yearn for more, and so it would beckon a question. Was there no limit to what the heart could want? What the heart would truly need? Xehanort too himself had wondered what would lie beyond his goal, what awaited beyond this culling of the proverbial wheat. When these worlds had submitted to his will, forced to endure the cause righteously brought upon them; would they continue to teach, as they had all these years?

They had certainly provided more insight to their nature and inner-workings in his travels than the master, or even Eraqus ever possibly could. Had they yielded all their secrets up to their point? Or was there more to discover beyond the door? A life’s worth of tearing away veil after another, uncovering truths only to possibly discover some might evade his knowing of them. He would not allow it, not when the likes of Kingdom Hearts was only a few discoveries and spars out of his grasp. All those whom doubted his theories, dismissed his questions, passed off his curiosity as insanity when they could never comprehend what he asked, would be shown the truth when it was finally unlocked. When the X-Blade opened the moon shaped gateway into the realm of power, Xehanort would be the one to finally teach the worlds, they would finally understand.

The elderly Keyblade Master had not turned a deaf ear to the girl when she began to prattle on aloud. In fact he welcomed the self assessment she provided, in turn deducing more about herself than he initially picked up on. Anything of worth first needed to be understood before it could be properly utilized after all. Perhaps there was something this girl hid under all that fear? Doubt was an ugly mask it chose to wear, but the root of the emotion was still there all the same. Xehanort knew it, all too well as the youngling did, as much as her heart chose to hide it from herself. The way she spoke, reminded him all too well of that misguided youth he had lured into becoming his vessel. Uncertain to what strength the darkness possessed, nor the confidence and mastery required to control such a power.

It was then that Xehanort felt it. Her declaration, a denial of that same fear as a power pulsed from within the youthful spirit. Defiance was such a stronger mask than doubt, still of weakness, yet it was a pathway unto valor and command. There were many paths to take, and this could suit the girl most fine in the days to come. Xehanort smiled to himself, before turning to look upon this Astrisia with the same complacency as before. The prior rhetorical statement of inability to master full control through restraint was met with a nod. ”Correct.” A few steps forward, one hand brought to the front to briefly gesture to the young blond and her darkness. ”When properly channeled the darkness can prove a most useful tool, as any element found in nature. Far be it from you to fear it, and not fire, nor water or light. They are only as different from one another as the heart would choose them to be.” Sentence finished with a finger pointed at Astrisia’s chest, before the hand would return promptly to the embrace of its other behind the elder’s back. A simple enough sentiment to assist the mage in peeling away the layers of doubt that had cocooned her so deep. Though it was only a matter of time before a beautiful, dark butterfly might emerge. Xehanort would see it take flight.

There were times when Xehanort’s theories were often in need of testing, so that the man could find certainty where there was none. On numerous occasions he would prove correct, and yet there were also the rare instances when surprise might catch the elder off guard. This place had once stood witness to such an event, just there upon that tiny island with the fabled fruit. Xehanort’s gaze of gold drifted from the youngling to the trunk where that surprise once laid unconscious, draped in fabric, heart seemingly crippled by his actions beyond repair. Then what should happen, but the boy’s heart would somehow conjure a keyblade. It was a feat he believed impossible given the boy’s state, and yet the elder’s theory of extracting the darkness from that pupil had in fact proved true. It was the first stone upon this path- this long, tedious trail toward a goal that would see fruition. A path that lead here.

Xehanort’s focus returned to the girl as she would as his name. He considered this momentarily. What was a name to anyone but that, a name? He had gone by many while walking this path to claim what would rightfully be his. It mattered little which he might choose to indulge, for she had already seen his face, heard his voice, soaked in the wisdom so whimsically bestowed upon her. The truth would come out at some point, doubtlessly on breath of skeptical warnings presented by naïve tongues. Perhaps if she was made aware, she would be allowed to decide for herself what to make of that truth. No answer was given as Xehanort approached once more, the aged and weathered boards underneath his boots creaking yet again. The elder would come to stand beside the girl, before turning to look down upon a pair of fish in the shallows below.

”You seek a means to understand, not a name.” The old man would reach out a gloved hand, flexing his fingers before one of the fish that swam about each other. ”Observe if you will.” The fingers would dance as the essence of umbra within the fish would begin to fester, then eventually surface in the form of a dark lavender mist about its physical form. The eyes would begin to glow a faint gold, before they would eventually succumb to the darkness, turning to shades of red before the fish began to attack the other. For a moment the pair of fish would struggle, before they began to writhe in pain, then vanish into a small rift of shadow that would eventually fade in the water. Xehanort would return his hand to his flank, remaining silent long enough to allow the youth to digest the demonstration.

”What a sight.” A deep chuckle as the fish reminded him fondly of the youth that had become his pupil, and then his vessel. The way the one struggled against its own darkness, fought its friend, then eventually gave in to the power that consumed its heart, how strikingly familiar it all was. ”You see…those faint hearts that fight what is in their very nature, succumb to their weakness.” Xehanort turned from the sight, proceeding back to the paopu island at a slow pace, back to the youthful academic once again. ”Such frailty guides many in these uncertain times. It is only just that those whom hold the fortitude lead the lost back to enlightenment. Alas…” Xehanort trailed off into silence with a ruse of a defeated sigh. Why whatever could ail such an old heart so? What pained him that he might hesitate to speak of it? A young and curious mind might ponder these things, if ever were their intrigue to get the better of them. She had listened intently thus far after all.

”I fear this selfish war of kings shall spill from world to world. A machine with so many wheels in motion, it cannot be stopped- only guided along a safe enough course.” The old man cast a glance over his shoulder, curious how she might take such a tale. As many may have wished such words to never hold truth, inevitably they would be pained with shattering revelations all the same. Allies to an angered prince with a heart bound in vengeance already doubtlessly conjured their forces. The result of the council in Atlantica had successfully primed the nobles and kingdoms for war, all that remained was that simple straw to break the camel’s back. Though where Xehanort could sew seeds of darkness within the vast ranks of these armies and cabinets to the royals, the easier it would prove to guide this conflict to his liking. This curious little reservoir of power could serve such a purpose, all while suiting her own ends in a search to claim whatever that dark little heart desired. Far be it from Xehanort to stand in the way of another whom walked on the path to wisdom, so long as he would gleam something from this turn.

It was on this very spot that he witnessed the birth of his ambition. As the Keyblade forged itself within that feckless youth’s hand, fired that beam of pure light to the sky, Xehanort knew then that he would see the X-blade forged. All that remained was for both light and dark to strengthen themselves before the clash. It was true then, and was just as accurate of a statement now as ever. As he and the girl stood upon this meager, placid world of peace, the embers of anger that would spark into wildfires of hate lurked among those worlds primed for war. The council had proved successful, if only for the purpose for which it had been created. Bringing so many inflated egos together, so many whom would think himself the hero, savior of the maiden, would inevitably clash with one another out of competition in a pursuit of more glory. Whom would save the worlds from the wicked witch? Whom would stop the nefarious schemes of Organization XIII? Each ruler wished to come out on top, to be the biggest hero of them all, to have their name immortalized among the stars after saving all the worlds from chaos. Each of them a fool forced to pick a side of a conflict birthed over a fickle dispute. Xehanort had watched it all happen from the end of that aged oaken table, seen each give in to the whims of their hearts, abandoning logic for emotion after being so devilishly swayed by a sailor with an eye patch.

He anticipated the first few battles would come soon, just as he had with Maleficent’s guerrilla strike upon Radiant Garden. Fortunate it was that The Freeshooter and the Luna Diviner gleamed all they could from the place before the witch played her hand. With Maleficent’s first move now out in the open, mere pawns moved across the board as they were, it only told Xehanort that Master Riku and the King would soon respond somehow, by some means. With the forces of so many worlds gathering to invade, conquer, and subjugate one another, it was so easy to overlook the more important moves on the board. Sleight of hand was a wonderfully tactful choice of method when utilized so properly. This lecture, this rant, this was more than just the benefit of words. Words are nothing but wind unless you put your whole will to blowing them whatever way you will. Xehanort had conviction in spades but it would do him no good to keep it all to himself. He preferred that the girl who now chose to side with his words could see what a strong will, and a powerful heart could achieve. Those who fell prey to darkness, those who found themselves twisted beyond recognition, those who fell into that never-ending abyss, they only slipped because they were not individuals of conviction. Those who held true to their creed, those who clung to their ambition, as if those were the only things keeping them afloat, they were the ones who would emerge from the other side of the dark with their hearts intact and their minds freed.

To think that the likes of the hapless Phillip and his allies could overcome such fortified souls, was a laughable thing in of itself. Though all that mattered was that the fools believed they actually could, and therein was all Xehanort needed from them. A war waged upon one another, like a ravenous maelstrom that would inevitably draw in all ships caught within its currents. The further the torrent would spread, the greater number of vessels would be drawn into the conflict. It was only a matter of time before the pieces he needed were pulled into this vacuum of suffering and strife. Hearts so filled with light and needless selflessness such as Sora and Mickey could not stand so idly by while the worlds tore each other apart. Doubtless it was that they’d step in to interfere where they could, to heal the worlds and the hearts in need of recovery. Though what continued to confound his mind to this point, was the lack of noise either had made since that day in the Realm of Sleep. Some continued their training, that could be attested to, yet the transpiring absence of the tiny king was indeed a curiously changed variable.

Had the faerie then played more from her hand than expected? Certainly. How else could she serve what purpose he had for her, if she continued to remain an idle prune within that decrepit castle? No, things were in motion, Xehanort knew this. The ploy in the Garden was naut but a ruse, simply bait to draw out the more naïve do-gooders itching to get their hands dirtied. All the good it would do to convince those that stood that they had a chance to stave off the inevitable reunion of the twenty. The X-blade would be forged, and no soul nor will would stand in the way of it. If Eraqus’ prized pawns could not have hoped to stop him before; how would the neophytes of this age stack up against a foe they barely understood? Xehanort’s eyes closed as he remained serene within the chaotic thoughts that ensued throughout his mind. Despite how tumultuous life would seem to carry on around him, there were always still waters at his feet, always a certainty in the goal that kept his heart so calm, so collected, so rooted to tranquility.

”Astrisia.”

The elder had broken the silence that grew over the air between them. He considered how he might make use of this little reservoir, how he might direct such a curious seeker of truth toward a greater purpose. The answer had come all too quickly, as though it had always lurked within the back of his mind, simply waiting for a chance to reveal itself. ”You must strengthen the darkness. Let that anger empower you. Sharpen your fears into rage.” Xehanort’s eyes would open once more, skimming the horizon in a disappointed fashion. ”However, you cannot accomplish this here, in a place so small.” The elder would turn to look upon the girl once more, nodding with an affirmation to his prior statement. A hand would spread out to the air left of the man, gesturing to the wise open sea. ”See more worlds. Seek out those that disrupt the balance with their light. Let them know that rage.” The writhing fingers before Xehanort were clenched into a fist at the end of the sentence, a confidence spread across his face in a smug smile. This child knew what she needed now, she had what was required to set forward on the path she was to take. All that remained was to see her through on her first step.

As always, his bones felt stiff.

That was to be expected as the years went on. His physical body was built to eventually fail him as all bodies do. Flesh perishes, bones rot, the brain atrophies, what was once rendered from dust returns to dust once more. It was the cruel paradox of their miracle existence in that while they were free to enjoy the intelligence and wisdom not gifted to lesser beings, they were forced to do so at a time limit not of their choosing. How unbelievably harsh to present the world at the palm of your hand only for reality to cleave your hand off and chastise you for dreaming for more.

It was a fate he did not deserve. And a fate that he would subvert once he gained the chance.

The girl understood clearly what she had to do. She was also determined to prove herself. Whether it was simply for self or him he could not guess, yet either way the elder would gleam a charity of this aspiring seeker’s progress. There was certainty in the potential within her, he could sense it, almost feel it even from where he stood. One day in the right hands to mold such a fine piece of clay, she could be made into a power to rival the fiercest of darknesses. Now all that remained to be seen was what would become of such a fiery determination. Would she shape the worlds befitting her destiny? Or would they be the ones to shape her?

Xehanort had lost count of the years that had silently fled by. How long had time been attacking his limbs, assaulting his mind and sapping away his life? How long had he been on this collision course towards ignominy and brittle life? Once he could traverse distances that many would faint in measuring, but some functions he clearly had lost all mastery over. Time should never have gotten to him so easily, yet so greatly. The body was perishable, a vessel for the mind, a weak shell that could be easily discarded and replaced with something far more suitable. Once all he needed was the proper host, he would be momentarily freed from the shackles of time once more. After Kingdom Hearts was his, such trivialities would be beneath him. He would not be a slave to nature. He was the master of his own fate. But what good was a master with nothing to focus his mind on? Usually Xehanort’s brain was close to overfilling with plots and plans, ideas for the future and how to accomplish them. However, today was that rare day where he had no obligations but to himself. Such a day struck Xehanort as odd and rather fortuitous.

The Keyblade Master regarded the young magi’s words with an affirming nod, a confident smile, and a twinkle within his acid-like golden stare. He was confident this idle visitation to a world he had left behind was not in vain. This girl, this Astrisia would carry his words to her heart, they would etch themselves deep within it, just as the desire to leave this place had long been inside his own. The heart was a powerful tool in such a fashion, to be able to carry that which one was so unaware of, to be able to so unwittingly harbor such unfathomable power within, it was truly fascinating. Affirming that he no longer held business upon these sands, Xehanort would once again begin to walk toward the girl and her confident smile. As the elder would near the young mage, his form would become incorporeal, before Xehanort would vanish into shadow, then nothingness entirely.