I got sick of trying to work on the second chapter of the Keys sequel, so I decided to post the first chapter anyway.
ONE- Keyblade Master
It was dark. So terribly dark. Ephram clung to the Keyblade, searching the dark for what he sought.
He has forgotten so much.
Shivering, Ephram ducked beneath a swooping Wyvern. Heartless crawled all around him. . . on him. . . .
He forgot her.
He caught the blur of red. An instant later, he felt the heat of intense fire pass behind his back.
“Next time I won't miss, murderer!” a boy shouted from with the dark. Metal rang. He was fighting the Heartless. “Show yourself!”
Axel appeared in his mind, grinning. His eyes spread wide, flame flickering around his face.
Ephram jumped away from a wheel of fire. The boy sniggered.
“You will pay. Someday.”
-- $ -- $ --
Ephram sat up, sweat dripping down his face. That dream had haunted him since. . . since he had come alive again. It always ended at a different time. And it was never exactly the same. But he always saw Axel, and he was always looking for something.
It was part of his past, something he was quickly forgetting all about. Was it the night he killed himself? He couldn't be entirely sure.
Slipping out of the bed, he staggered to a mirror. It was him, standing there. Ephram Whyte. But it wasn't him. It looked like his body. But there was something that didn't fit. There were no scars, and no pain in his eyes. There had been a great deal of pain in his eyes, before his sacrifice.
DiZ had been entirely unable to explain how Tidus's body changed to appear his own. Ephram didn't understand it either. His heart and soul were still contained in his body. But it wasn't his body.
Looking out the window was depressing, to say the least. It was an instant drop, far down to the strange waterways beneath Hollow Bastion's castle. There was nothing but mountains as far as the eye could see. The sun was still down, so everything was shaded in darkness. Darkness. . .
DiZ said that once Hollow Bastion had been a place of light, and peace. Now it was shadowed even in daylight, a parallel to its master. DiZ was as complex as everything else in this place.
DiZ was a Heartless.
Ephram looked back at the mirror. There was no telling how long he'd been here, living in a new body. Certainly not long enough to recover from his invasion, or whatever had ailed Tidus before he had entered.
Someone knocked on the door, three times. Ephram jumped.
“A moment,” he forced himself not to mumble, a habit of his. He cast about, looking for the shirt he had tossed aside before going to bed the night before. Instead he found the black robe that DiZ had offered him, still hanging where he had left it.
Apparently Axel didn't have a moment. The fiery-haired man burst in, a wily grin on his angular face.
“Hey, dreamer!” he greeted. He folded his arms and leaned against the door jamb.
“A good morning, Axel?” Ephram found his black undershirt and thrust it on.
“The night was better,” Axel admitted. “Yuffie has a great laugh.”
Ephram didn't know if Axel was trying to make a sick joke or was being serious. You just couldn't tell with this guy. He opened the wardrobe next to his bed and grabbed some pants, tossing on the bed for when Axel left. If Axel left.
“I don't think there's anyone else around here who would laugh at your jokes,” he smiled faintly, watching Axel readjust his robe.
“She and I are the only ones laughing right now,” he recovered quickly. “I haven't heard you laugh.”
Remembering his dream, Ephram grimaced. “I don't think you'd like the sound of it.”
“Maybe not,” Axel stood up straight, but his grin didn't go away. It never went away unless DiZ was around. “DiZ wants to see you when you're up and around.” He chuckled, “That'll be a while, since you've still gotta comb your hair and put on your make-up.”
Ephram smiled again, sitting on his bed. He drew invisible lines under his eyes with his fingers. “Don't talk to me about make-up.”
Axel chuckled again and turned away, “See ya later, pretty boy.”
The door closed and Ephram dropped back onto his bed. Axel was the easiest person to deal with here, believe it or not. At least he could say whatever he wanted around him. With Yuffie, he couldn't say anything, because of all that gab, and nothing he said could muster a word from Leon. Cloud was spending all his time in the library, “studying.”
Studying Aerith's face, maybe.
With DiZ's followers out doing whatever it was they did, that was everyone. Axel, Yuffie, Aerith, Leon, Cloud, and DiZ. And DiZ had been away a lot recently. Something about Castle Oblivion.
Ephram slipped into his baggy gray pants. He checked to see if his two rings, white and black, were still in their places, and then he headed out the door. Halfway out, he finished climbing into his two-tone black and white jacket.
The hallway was empty. Ephram closed his door quietly, listening to Axel's fading footsteps. Everything echoed in these halls. It was eerie, to say the least.
Riding lifts was easy. It was finding the right one that was the hard part. After twenty minutes of wandering through the vacant halls, he found a lift station, but it took him to the castle gates. He had to backtrack until he found one that carried him to the heart of Hollow Bastion.
Leon glanced at him with those icy, emotionless eyes when he stepped into the chapel. Yuffie was close by, juggling by the looks of it. She grinned and shot him a wink. Ephram shook his head, almost stumbling on his way through. He would never understand what that girl was thinking. Never.
As always, he felt a chill run through his spine upon entering the Great Hall. On either side of him, teal fires burned. Beyond them stood broken. . . he didn't know what they were. They had held six of the princesses of heart. The powers of darkness had clashed with Sora here. His victory spoke much of the Keyblade's incredible power.
This was also where he was to meet the heart of those dark forces, in more ways than one. The person he was about to meet had been the ruler of hollow Bastion in times long past, and then its absent tyrant. He placed it under the charge of a witch and her unwitting coalition of villains. All of them had fallen to the Keyblade master.
“You are thinking about it again, aren't you?” DiZ retained the voice of Ansem, but there was something about it that was far less dark. Ansem's heart. . . a heartless. . . acted as if he had not undergone the change that he had. Redemption was DiZ's song, for those who had heard it. Ephram had been lucky to.
“About what?”
“Your are thinking about how incredible it is. How undeniably simple it is.” DiZ was standing in the center of the little courtyard, watching Ephram climb the right stairs towards him. He was swathed in red, and what could be seen of his body was like black fabric. His eyes were a bright orange. How could anyone have orange eyes?
“The Keyblade?” Ephram guessed, mounting the dais.
DiZ nodded, “That is what is at the center of your thoughts, is it not?”
Ephram hesitated, his mouth hanging open. “I. . . I suppose it is,” he glanced away. This place always reminded him of what DiZ had told him about Sora's accomplishments. Something very faint, deep inside, told him that the Keyblade had changed Sora. He wasn't the same Sora he had known on Destiny Islands.
Wait. . .
Are you still in here, Tidus?
DiZ had said that Tidus's memories would still remain. They were dormant, but there were things Ephram knew about Sora and Kairi and Riku that no one had told him.
“Have you rested well?” Ansem's heart stepped back, his strange eyes taking Ephram in. “You have always seemed tired. Show me something.”
Ephram knew what DiZ was asking. He had known DiZ before killing himself. Or he had known Ansem. . . He wasn't sure. He just knew that DiZ was immensely familiar. DiZ knew a great deal about him, though. Like the prowess he had once had in fighting Heartless.
“I don't think I'm up to it,” Ephram turned his gaze upon the rift that led. . . somewhere. “It's been a while.”
DiZ walked over to a panel with Ephram at his heels. He picked something off the ground and held it up.
“Would this convince you to try?”
Ephram stared. It was a Keyblade. More specific, it was the Keyblade that Ansem's body and soul had given to Tidus. The Keyblade Jac had left behind. . .
Who was Jac?
“What do you intend to do with that?”
DiZ smiled. It was hard to tell, but the smile was there, “This belongs to you. In truth, it belonged to Tidus. But you are both Ephram and Tidus, so this Keyblade is yours.” he knelt again, lifting up a black crown on a chain. A keychain.
“What is that?” Ephram stepped slowly away. He glanced at the rift again.
“This is Oblivion,” DiZ deftly attached the chain to the black and red key in his hands. There was a sound like darkness, strange as it seemed, and a black aura shone around the Keyblade. After a moment, the result became visible. It was long, and black, and the end was almost like a crown. Everything about it was hard edges. “This is said to have caused despair and destruction in the hands of its wielder.”
Ephram shook his head. “You intend for me to have it?”
“As I said, it is yours.”
DiZ tossed Oblivion aside. It landing halfway into the rift. Somehow, it remained.
“You want me to do something for you,” Ephram asserted. His eyes were still on the Keyblade, hanging in the gap. “You want me to use the Keyblade to destroy something.”
“I'm giving you what is yours,” DiZ said quietly. He crouched one final time to retrieve what looked to have once been a star-like fruit. A paopu. Two legs had been bitten off, but it was not rotting. “i do not know, but i believe Jac would have wanted you to have this.”
“What?”
“The wielder of the Ghost-key went by the wayside, sacrificing himself and his Keyblade for the chance that Sora could stop the swarm of Heartless and shells that are invading. His name is Jac, and I do not know if he lives. Something tells me he is dead, though. He left these with you when he went, promising to return. You key-wielders have a way with failing to fulfill your promises.”
Ephram took another step back. He stumbled, realizing that he was at the edge of the steps. “I am not a key-wielder!”
DiZ shook his head. “Denying it won't make it any less true. Tidus was given the key he had, thus he was able to wield it. You, on the other hand, were chosen by a Keyblade. It is still there, in the back of your mind, waiting to be returned to your side.”
Ephram remembered his dream. He had held a Keyblade in it. His own Keyblade. Before his sacrifice, he had used a Keyblade. . .
“Are you saying. . .”
“Yes, Ephram. You own two Keyblades.”
Ephram gave a start when, with a flash, his Keyblade appeared in his hand. He stared at the gold hilt, and the silver shaft. It was so familiar. . .
“This is impossible,” he murmured.
DiZ said nothing more, but pulled out another chain. He attached it to the half-eaten paopu fruit. After a moment of consideration, he handed it to Ephram. “That is Oathkeeper. Sora had the same. Indeed, all that is required is the symbol of an oath. Hang it from your Keyblade.”
Ephram did so. The Keyblade flashed silver light. When the light vanished, it was different, as the other Keyblade had been. This one had a flowery hilt, with two short rods for the shaft, and the tip was a mix of yellow and blue.
“The wielder of Oathkeeper brought much light to the world,” DiZ's voice echoed. He turned away. “Jac's sacrifice opened the boundaries between worlds once more. You may pass between them freely, given a means of transportation. In the waterway you will find a gate. That gate will lead you into darkness, but only for a time. You will follow the path of Riku's heart until you reach Kingdom Hearts. But it will not be there. Instead, you will find a road. Follow the road, and your heart, and you will find what you seek.”
“What I seek?” Ephram hopped up the steps towards the rift and pulled Oblivion from its grasp. Surprisingly, both fit his hands, and with perfect balance.
“There are promises to be kept, Ephram,” DiZ muttered. Then he was gone, leaving no trail to tell where he went.
Ephram stood there for a while. What he sought. . . . He had been seeking it, even in his dream. Even before his sacrifice, he had been searching for this. What was it that he was looking for? DiZ's last words weighed on him. They had some importance, but he couldn't tell what.
His two Keyblades vanished. He started down the steps half-heartedly, still hesitant to believe what he was.
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