Chapter Text
There was blood on his hands, Vanitas noted dully, the same as it was slowly seeping through the fabric over his knees from the growing puddle on the floor. His Keyblade was covered in the same, startingly bright red where it lay discarded on the ground a few feet away.
He should probably recall it.
But that thought felt hazy and far away, hard to grasp, so he didn't bother.
Instead, his eyes stayed glued to the limp form in front of him that was surely getting colder by the minute, no matter how hot the day was, blood streaming from a deep hole in the man's stomach, barely visible against his dark coat but incredibly so in the white of his beard.
Vanitas blinked slowly, swallowing dryly.
There had been something to do, he vaguely remembered. Something was meant to happen today. His master had said so, told him that this would be his last training before their big day, before they would finally follow his plan, so he was supposed to give his all.
He had.
And now his master was lying in a growing pool of his own blood, unmoving, dead.
There had been something to do, but right now, Vanitas couldn't care less. So instead, he stared at the corpse of his master as the hours passed by.
°°°
Xehanort had been meant to be here an hour ago. To watch Eraqus's apprentices become masters of their own, to celebrate with them that the age of Keyblade wielders was not yet over.
But he still wasn't here.
It would not be the first time that Xehanort had found something that drew his attention, something that he thought more important than doing what he'd planned on doing beforehand. Especially during their training, this had happened more times than Eraqus could count.
But never in the many years that he had known the other man, had he ever forgotten to inform Eraqus that he wouldn't come if he did change his plans.
Of course, Eraqus amended, their relationship had been quite a lot better back then than it was now, but he still trusted that his former friend would not simply forget about him. Especially since this was the first Mark of Mastery exam in years. Xehanort had sounded so delighted and amazed when Eraqus had asked him to come, to be the second judge, that Eraqus wouldn't have thought it possible he'd miss this.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
They continued to wait until Eraqus felt it was pointless to wait any longer, deciding that he would have to be the only judge and started the exam.
Both of his pupils passed, all three of them grinning from ear to ear as they started their celebration, not even noticing the one place at the table that continued to stay empty.
And the unease in Eraqus's stomach grew.
°°°
Weirdly enough, this was the first time in his life in which Vanitas didn't feel anything at all. The first time that he could remember, that his head wasn't filled with the mindless chatter of the Unversed, the first time that there was not a singly creature that was scuttling around him, that he was supposed to kill.
There was nothing, even though Vanitas thought, as the sun started to set again, shading the sky in reds and golds, that he should be feeling something.
Anger, that now that his master was dead, their plan would never come to fruition. That he would never be complete again. That he'd continue his life as it was and suffer until he inevitably died.
Maybe pride, that he had managed to defeat the man who was the strongest and most capable person that existed out there. That he had proven that he wasn't weak and useless as his master had so often told him.
Or maybe even happiness, that the man who had hurt him so many times wouldn't be able to do so again.
But there was nothing in his chest but blankness, a gaping void that filled his entire being and muddled his thoughts, making it impossible for him to do anything but sit there, and stare with disbelieving eyes.
°°°
When the night turned to day again and there was still no message, nothing at all from Xehanort, Eraqus decided he could no longer ignore the unease that was chewing at him from the inside. So he told the two newly appointed masters to look over the castle and Ventus while he was gone, jumped onto his Glider and made his way through the ocean between worlds and towards a tower that lay somewhere in the middle of it.
Because if there was anyone who knew what was going on in the worlds, it was Yen Sid, no matter if he was retired or not.
The older man seemed surprised when Eraqus showed up, even more so when he asked him for the location of Xehanort. But he gave it nontheless.
„I cannot find his current location,“ the wizard said, his eyes closed and his forehead pulled into a frown. „Something is not right with him. But I can tell where he was a day ago. The Keyblade Graveyard.“
Trepidation swept through Eraqus as he thanked Yen Sid and made his way out of the tower again, climbing back onto his Glider and turning it into the direction of the Keyblade Graveyard, apprehension rising higher.
If Xehanort had been at the Keyblade Graveyard of all places... Something was very wrong. And Eraqus intended to find out, what it was.
°°°
Slowly, the stars faded away and the sun peaked out from behind the cliffs of the Keyblade Graveyard, steadily rising higher and higher until the air was heating up again.
Vanitas was still in the same place, his legs numb from all the time he had spend in the same position, his stomach growling, his head spinning, his mind jumping from one thing to the next. Would Xehanort's corpse start to rot now? Would he slowly fall apart until nothing was left of him? At least that was what Vanitas thought happened to dead people. But how long did it take until then? When would it start?
What would happen with his Keyblade? He could see the silver metal, just behind his master's body, still grasped firmly in his hand, the old man not even letting go in death. Maybe it would just stay here in the Graveyard. Not like it would really stand out with all the other dead keys around.
There was a weird, whirring sound above him, he noticed absendmindedly, not loud enough to actually make him look up, but still noticable. The wind picked up, swirling the sand around him in a tight arc, and Vanitas was weirdly glad he was wearing his helmet right now. At least that way, he didn't have to move to try and do anything to stop the sand from getting in his eyes.
And then, a thud sounded from behind him, followed by a gasp and the shing of a drawn Keyblade.
Ah. So his master was back for more traini–
No.
Wait.
That couldn't be true, because his master's body was dead and right in front of him.
So then who...?
Only years of training, years of improving his skills and instincts made Vanitas's body throw itself to the side to evade the giant firaga that had been thrown at him from behind, his numb legs so uncooperative that it still singed his side.
He let out a gasp, shakily rolling to his feet as pins and needles swept through his feet and legs, to whirl around and face his attacker, his eyes wide and his chest heaving, even though he had barely moved at all, as his heart hammered against his ribs.
It was an unfamiliar man, maybe as old as his master was – had been – with a scar on his cheek and another over his eye, long black hair pulled together behind his head, a white coat flapping in the wind that whirled around them.
In his hand, he held a silver Keyblade. It looked so... unwieldy. Bulky. Dull.
But then, the man lunged at him, and from that move alone, Vanitas could tell that he definitely knew how to wield that weapon, as he barely managed to stumble back a step, ducking underneath the next swing and teleporting a few feet away to put some distance between the two of them.
The man barely even paused, the tip of his Keyblade glowing in a bright blue, before enormous shards of ice were flying in Vanitas's direction, their sharp edges glinting in the sun.
More out of reflex than anything else, Vanitas held out his hand and Void Gear came back to him, still coated in blood, he noted, before his hand lashed out on its own and send dark fire to intercept the ice.
He had misjudged the older man's strength, though.
While it did dull the edges of the ice, Vanitas's fire wasn't nearly strong enough to actually melt it and stop it from hitting him. The ice crashed into his chest, sending him flying and crashing into a nearby rock.
His head was spinning.
His entire body ached.
His limbs were stiff.
But he still felt incredibly empty.
Vanitas groaned, thankful for the helmet that had protected his head from the worst of the attack, as he slowly blinked his heavy eyes open, just in time to see the man's Keyblade light up in an unfamiliar, golden glow.
He had one more moment for the faintest buzz of confusion to flow through him at that, because he had absolutely no idea what kind of spell that was supposed to be, before golden chains shot out from the man's Keyblade, so fast that Vanitas had no time to react before they wrapped around him, pressing his arms to his sides and his legs together, giving him no room to so much as wiggle a hand.
He still tried, more on reflex than anything else, but the chains didn't budge an inch. So, he tried to teleport away, only for pain to screech through his head, making him gasp and let go of his darkness again as quickly as he could.
At least that made the pain fade back to a dull throb in the back of his head, his breathing still erratic, when he heard the approach of footsteps.
Snapping his head upwards, Vanitas could see the man approaching, a stormy expression on his face. He was angry, that much was clear, but there was an underlying current of confusion as well. The source of that became clear, when his eyes flickered over to the Keyblade that was still tightly in Vanitas's grasp.
The man narrowed his eyes, stopping a bit away from Vanitas, his gaze wandering over him once before settling on his face, his head tilting to the side ever so slightly.
„What... are you...?“ he wondered quietly, probably talking to himself.
Vanitas scoffed, his ribs aching at that decision. „Darkness,“ he muttered, letting his head fall back against the rocks behind him, and the man took a surprised step back, his eyes widening.
„You can talk?“ he asked and Vanitas narrowed his eyes, even though the man couldn't see it.
„Why shouldn't I?“ he asked back, the words kind of slurring together, the faintest twinge of irritation creeping up in him, his arms testing his bonds again, only for them to remain annoyingly indistructable. At least the feeling in his feet and legs was returning slowly, so that was something.
The man didn't answer him, just continued to look at him with an unreadable expression. And then his Keyblade glowed again, which was the last thing Vanitas saw before his consciousness was dragged away by a spell and he fell asleep.