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Xehanort squeezes him by the throat, darkness licking out from his hand and burning across Sora’s skin. The old man grins at him. “Foolish boy. To think that you could best me on your own is the height of arrogance. You will fall as easily as the rest.”
Sora gasps as he squeezes, but he can’t draw breath back in. His lungs, his skin is burning, and blackness creeps on the edge of his vision. The darkness pulls at him, crawls toward his heart, and he has but one more defense. Sora dives to his last place of safety, the refuge of his lighted heart.
His feet have barely brushed the stained glass, a breath barely drawn, and then he is struck from behind, sent flying and crashing to the ground. Xehanort stands over him, keyblade held to Sora’s chest. “You really are a dull child. You have shown me exactly the way in and now your heart will be fully extinguished, your body mine to use.”
Sora can’t think. He can’t beat Xehanort on his own; he just wanted a moment to breathe and now Xehanort lifts No Name and darkness swarms over the edges of the glass platform. “Embrace it child, here at your very heart!”
The burning begins again and Sora’s back arches off the ground. He grits his teeth, biting back a scream. Xehanort laughs above him. “Why fight it, boy? This is how all things end.”
“Would you shut up? ” The voice comes out of the darkness and with a slash of white light, Xehanort is forced backwards.
Sora gasps in a breath, turning on his side and coughing. Black booted feet stop next to him, a coat swishing to a stop, and he looks up. Roxas, to put it mildly, looks pissed.
His hands clench around Oblivion and Oathkeeper. “First, you think you can crawl your way in here and make a mess of things. And then you want to monologue at him? Fuck off.” Roxas points Oathkeeper at Xehanort and blasts more white light at him. Sora’s well aware of how hard those beams of light can hit, but Xehanort deflects it one-handed.
“Ah, the nobody. You could have been very useful.” Xehanort lifts No Name again, guarding his chest. “A shame that you were caught by that interfering researcher.”
“Does he ever shut up?” Roxas mutters to Sora, banishing Oathkeeper and offering him a hand up. Sora takes it gladly, legs shaky.
“Not really. Thanks, Roxas.”
Roxas shrugs. “Ready to kick his ass?”
Sora rubs his neck. “Honestly, no. That’s why I’m here.”
“Then take a breather. We’ve got this.” Roxas smirks and before Sora can think of who he means, the blond lunges across the platform.
Xehanort folds one hand behind his back, blocking the strikes from both of Roxas’s keyblades with one hand and the length of No Name. He doesn’t seem bothered at all, face lapsing into boredom as he knocks the boy back with a heavy swing.
Roxas lands on the balls of his feet, lunges, and when Xehanort lifts his blade to block, slides around behind him, smashing him across the platform. Roxas exhales heavily as he straightens; Xehanort’s hit had knocked most of the wind out of him. “Okay, I see why you needed a break.”
Sora nods, one hand clutching the Kingdom Key as he watches Xehanort turn to study them both. The old man smiles. “Foolish children.” He waves his free hand and the tendrils of darkness, writhing at the edges of the platform, shoot outward. Sora is wrapped in them immediately, but Roxas dodges. More trip him up, wrapping around his legs and forcing him to his knees where they can crawl up his arms.
“You focus only on the physical; here, in his heart, there is much more than I to worry about. Darkness lives in every heart and yours is no exception.” Xehanort tightens his hand into a fist and the darkness around them pulses, draining their strength. “A nobody is only half a person. Half your strength still means nothing , boy.”
“You’re so fucking full of yourself,” Roxas spits. “We’ve beaten you before.”
“You’ve bested a fragment, a part, and those pieces were without my memory, my experience.” Xehanort shakes his head, a disappointed master. “You are children, unguided and untrained, and none of you understand what you truly lack. You don’t understand what I offer, what I will bring to all worlds. A new future, a brighter future, where the worlds have been wiped clean and rebuilt. The true light of Kingdom Hearts has guided me.”
“And I thought Xemnas was preachy.”
Sora squints past the pulsing tendrils of darkness, still draining him, holding him in place to see another black-coated figure. She kneels by Roxas, prying Oblivion from one of his locked hands. He smiles at her and she slashes through his bonds. At first, Sora swears it’s Namine, but then he blinks and her hair is short and black. She holds Oblivion comfortably, lifting it straight out and pointed at Xehanort.
“I’m tired of lectures about Kingdom Hearts and memories and who is owed what. Would you please go away . You’re making it difficult to move around.” Her voice sounds like Kairi’s, but different and he should know who this is.
Roxas fills in the gap before Sora can recall. “Thanks, Xion.”
She elbows him. “You shouldn’t have run ahead.”
“You’re right. Next time I’ll walk nice and slow and let Sora get stabbed. Because that hasn’t happened enough.” Roxas rolls his eyes, but there’s a readiness in both of them.
Without a proper word or signal, they both lunge for Xehanort. The old man jumps backward before they can connect, moving closer to Sora who struggles harder against his bonds. Xehanort doesn’t even sound breathless as he blocks and knocks back both Roxas and Xion now. “This is what your heart holds. A gathering place for the strength of others and still it is weak. On your own, what would you have?”
He hates Xehanort, hates the way his voice sounds so much like the one that whispers in the dead of night right before he can fall asleep. Even with the clanging of keyblades as Xion and Roxas try to break through his defenses, Sora is reminded me of the softest of voices in the night. He’s asked himself that same question so many times since he’s found out about his many connections. He doesn’t have a good answer and he hates Xehanort for knowing it.
Xehanort smiles at him, coldly. “Nothing. A nobody and a puppet have more than you.” He snaps his hand out, catching the end of Oblivion from Xion and throwing her backward. Roxas slams Oathkeeper against No Name, but Xehanort tosses him back as well. He stomps his foot as they both struggle to get back to their feet, and chains erupt from the dark to race at the two of them. Xehanort looks back at Sora. “And still they are not enough.”
Sora glares at him. He’s wrong, he’s wrong , he’s wrong . Roxas and Xion are their own people and he’s proud to see them standing on their own and making Xehanort work to stay free of their attacks. And he deserves to stand with them, no matter what the darkness whispers at him. He digs his fingers into the tendrils holding him and pulls.
It feels weaker and he yanks it down from his face and shoulders. It tightens around his arms and now, Xehanort is frowning. He has No Name pointed at Xion and Roxas, both of them bound now in chains. “You delay me only minorly. Your friends are gone, your pieces too weak to stop me. What hope do you have to win now that you have let me into your very heart?”
His throat feels like its been rubbed raw and his voice comes out rough, but Sora glares at him as he grinds the words out. “We’re still together, even when you try to tear us apart. I’ll beat you and bring them all back!”
Xehanort shakes his head. “It is too late for that.” The darkness he called has crept further and further in, it coats the platform under all their feet, the shining center losing ground. Sora shudders as he feels it in his chest.
“Any other little keybearers who think they can fight me? Any others that have hidden here, dressing you with power and magic to protect themselves?” Xehanort calls into the darkness. He knows . “The nobody, the puppet, the boy himself. That leaves only the failure. Come out, Ventus. Or are you still barely shards after your foolish choices?”
Sora struggles harder. “Don’t talk about them like that!”
Xehanort ignores him, waiting silently. His lips curve up as nothing changes around them, no other form joins them on the platform. “For the first time, he makes a wise choice and protects himself. But it will not matter. When you fall, his heart will be gone for good.”
He tightens the chains around Roxas and Xion and then hefts No Name above his head. “Return to darkness,” Xehanort says and brings the keyblade down.
Sora braces for the pain, for the wave of darkness to sweep over them all, for nothingness . Instead, light blazes, pillars of light sweeping out from the center of the platform, warm and removing all shreds of darkness. The tingling sensation of a healing spell is left on Sora’s skin as he stands. Roxas and Xion help each other up, their keyblades glittering in the remaining light.
Ventus stands in the middle of the platform, one hand held to his chest, the other holding Wayward Wind. He looks at Xehanort, unimpressed. Xehanort, pushed backward by the light is at the very edge of the platform now, but looks amused. “And so you seal your fate along with all the others. Foolish children, weak and dependent on the heart of a boy who wasn’t even chosen.”
Ventus shakes his head. “You’re wrong, about all of it. And you’re going to lose.”
“I am a master. I have bested all of you. None of you understand power or what it means to use it. I will show you.” Xehanort summons a ball of purple fire, letting it build in his hand. “The light always chooses the weak, the breakable, and it always falls because of this. I will remake this world through the darkness, as has been foretold!”
“For such a ‘ wise master’ who can see the future, you don’t seem to know what a trap is.” The voice sneers from the darkness and Xehanort freezes in place. Darkness licks around him, but instead of waving harmlessly, waiting to be commanded, it wraps tightly around his limbs.
Someone melts out of the darkness, hands gripping Xehanort’s arms and slowly prying down the one holding dark fire. Their face appears over his shoulder, almost as cold as Xehanort’s. Sora hisses between his teeth at the warped reflection of his features. Who is this ? He thought that vision had been a dream, Xehanort’s younger self teasing him with what he could be.
“Vanitas,” Xehanort roars. “I am your master. Release me!”
“Wow,” Vanitas says, flatly. “You really think I’m going to listen to you.” He extinguishes the dark fire with his hand and then yanks that arm behind Xehanort’s back. “Old man, this is my fucking house and my darkness.”
He smirks. “We’ll be escorting you out now.”
Sora watches, stunned, as Roxas and Xion charge, cutting across Xehanort with twin strikes. Xehanort grunts in pain, unable to defend or even move. The grip of the dark is that tight. Ventus flickers and then appears above Xehanort, light and wind all around him, as he drives Xehanort into the ground. In perfect sync, Vanitas had released Xehanort and taken no damage himself.
There’s silence for a long moment and then Xehanort vanishes, leaving only wisps of darkness.
“He ran.” Vanitas crosses his arms over his chest. “He’ll need a couple minutes to catch his breath, but he’s not done yet.” He glares at the platform and what tendrils of darkness remain, slide off of it and back into the empty space around them.
Ventus nods and turns to look at Sora. “You’re going to have to go chase him off, Sora. We can’t really do more than bruise him in here. That was a projection, not his real heart.”
Sora nods and lets the Kingdom Key vanish. He didn’t have to do a thing to defend his heart. He looks around at the four of them, here to help him no matter how self-serving it might be, and then smiles. “Thanks!”
Xion smiles back. “Keep strong, Sora. We’re right behind you.” Roxas nods and Ventus puts his hands behind his head, smiling too.
Vanitas shakes his head, arms still crossed. “Go already. He’s not going to wait on you before trying again.” He bares his teeth in a devil’s grin. “Save a piece for me.”
“What? Are you going to chew on his bones like a dog?” Ventus rolls his eyes. “You’ve got this, Sora. I know you do.”
And Ven, who has been with him the longest, would know. Sora presses a hand to his chest. “Give me a little bit longer and then we can all go home.”
He closes his eyes and when he opens them again his keyblade is already in hand, warm from the touch of so many. Sora leaps to his feet and looks directly at Xehanort, a little bit way with a hand to his chest. “On your own again,” he says.
Sora tightens his grip on the handle and can feel the thrum of power under his skin. His power, their power, blazes through him, and this time, when he charges Xehanort, Sora knows that the old keyblade master doesn’t stand a chance.