When they reached the ‘root’ its appearance was quite thematically befitting. The artist had to look at it thoughtfully a moment, as it howled, raged and fired at them- she moved so easily, it was a exhilarating feeling to move like this.
"..pitiful creature...."
Still it was time; the bells were tolling for this creature- and it knew, it’s fear and confusion it knew, and no doubt hated them for it.
‘It’s almost over….’
~ Yes. Give it everything you’ve got!~
It was a strange thing feeling charged and drained at the same time. Her heart was filled to the brim, yet burning at the same time, surely any moment it would beat so erratically from the emotions threatening to overwhelmed her it would forever be locked in this dire palpation. Mana practically itched in her finger tips as they couldn’t seem to move fast enough for her liking. But dragging conception to realization and manifestation Kyla let it starburst inside and fly forth from her being and page as a bright bird, transcending usual form into something far grander then she had hoped-
Like a lantern under paper, Kyla’s body couldn’t hide the light just igniting, from inside her, inside her book, and they blended together till she was a solid silhouette losing temporarily her humanoid shape, and grow to massive size! Her Limit set lose and Birn Strike Level 3 opened its massive seraph-like wings, encompassing it’s sketcher and flew from the girls form like her very soul was escaping.
It ‘comet-ed’ through the void, all wind, light and power rushing to collide with its target that could never escape it’s strike.
There are a number of non-battle sections of this post that are not immediately relevant, but understand my intention: I am trying to explain the scope of what this battle entails for the Earthlings who have lost everything and gone through this foreign world for a week, all effectively because of this thing (or its whole, to be precise).
There’s going to come a part in the song, around 3:15, that is significantly longer than the portion to which I had reserved it in this post; I decided to cut a large chunk of text due to rambling and the fact that this was already a massive post. Once you get to an asterisk (*), you can either just jump to 4:57 in the song, or stop and wait for 4:57 while imagining in more detail what is being described in the scene before said asterisk.
The horror struggled in its malign frustration, the atmosphere foul with its blackborne hatred of them. Lost, shards, broken, so many worthless titles for worthless things. Things that refused to die, and rebelled against its truth, against the universal truth. There was only Darkness, there could only be Darkness. They struggled, but all things that begin must end.
So why, unlike their worthless world, would they not die?
Its eyes burned out toward any it could see, even in the muddled time in which it was stuck. Jenny's song held its magic at bay, but its swinging arms would only be slowed; still, it was enough to make it child's play to dodge its swipes. An inaudible growl rumbled through the air, only felt in the hollow lungs of their chests as its wrathful vibrations rebounded and refracted. Foul things, worthless things, why had this happened?
There was a great hum from above, and it didn't bother looking, only writhing, its visible onyx-formed muscles rippling with tension as the grand pearl of light began to form. Three great mirrors swiftly moved into place around him, triangulating their power, and nearby, he felt great, nullifying power channeled through another blue mage's heart as he prepared a ruinous spell. And then, from the base of its torso, a grand whirlpool formed, spiraling around and tearing at its torso even before the berserker plunged in head-first—
The great holy star erupted with violent might, piercing the beast from head to core with a column of light that struck its very essence, making every black fiber of its form seem grey. On cue, Sayrike and Joseph lashed out in spiraling blurs, tearing at shadowflesh with iridescent steel. In their culmination, the water rose to envelope its core in a sphere of pressure, and so flew Matthew's Grand Delta, its void-shredding might swelling within the epicenter of darkness. When Joseph unleashed a final, bisecting blow, the water began to split, the triangle began to swell, and in a simultaneous explosion of mist and magic, the Thorn's body was sundered and broken——
The sparks that still lit their hearts flickered, in a fraction of a moment, as the beast grew weaker. They did not stop acting, or moving, or even talking—it was much like a second instance, a simultaneous experience within their heart. There now, before their inner eye, was their glistening marble of green, blue, and white, spinning through the void. Home to their lives, to their futures, and torn by the same monstrosity before them. Even those who weren’t keen on the past week would feel that innate understanding, if more through the light’s revelations then their own figuring. The Darkness lashed out at them specifically because they represented its failure; in a world for the taking, they had survived with flecks of light-gifted power, and survived the dangers of this new world, of its own designs, for some unfathomable reason, they would not submit to them.
As the archer conjured her queen of frost, all apparent moisture froze, and their cold fury ignited a blizzard from above that froze every inch around it in glacial stone. In the midst, Dawn summoned terrible gales and razor winds to condense around her fans in glistening green energy. John, nearby and outraged, called upon the great currents of the storm and channeled vast electric power into his maul, which shuddered with potential energy. And then, as one, the three Earthlings loosed their final assaults: a second arrow from Bobbi catalyzed an eruption of ice so violent the horror beast bent back entirely by recoil alone; the winds from Dawn surged forward with the pressure of a hurricane, ripping through and around its flesh like an imploding tornado; and John seared its core with a thunderous cannon-blast of raw electricity, piercing its shadowform and shocking every unnatural atom.
Their lives were destroyed.
The corsair pulled on the instincts and primal rage, the caged beast coming loose to strike at the torturous ringleader while unleashing a supernatural roar. Meanwhile, the once-host, the once-dark, the once-crazed had vendettas both old and new, conjuring a grand sword fit for execution. In their unified fury, their blows came as one, of chaos and order, a lunar essence meteor combining with a judge’s piercing eruption. And in that fallout, Noelle did begin her spell.
The walls had weakened further, and their hearts ached in memory of that fall, of the first sight of their mosaic, the first fight against the dark. They recalled the weapon in their hands, the power at their fingertips, and all of it being useless—of all the world and its people, they were left on a speck of dirt alone, facing down a towering shadow. Of course they fought, but not because they sought to survive; they fought with the rage only those lost and broken could manage, as the final shards from shattered life and unity. And when the darkness swallowed them all the same, they pushed on. They survived, here in a new world—a world where they would grow to be giants.
With Noelle’s arcane intensity, the beast was contorted by roots and bark ensnaring its form; in the blink of an eye, it was little more than a massive tree, enveloping its entire form. Her magic locked the Thorn in place, crushing and needling it with the magic of living nature. The witch willed the tree into supreme dominance, every ounce of power going into this great Yggdrasil, which slowly drained what little will the horror had left.
Their unconscious mind seemed to dredge up the entirety of the past week now, this furious retribution being brought into focus. Their arrival, some separated, others united; the chaos of the world into which they were thrown, with no friends, no family. Trapped, perhaps in some alternate dimension or universe, or thrust toward some unknown corner of their own.
But they did not submit the first time, and they would not now. They fought. They pushed back. They demanded the truth, justice, and yes, some release of justified fury. Agrabah, the Underworld, Narnia, Halloween Town, France, China, the Caribbean, Angel Grove, Hawaii, Atlantica, Atlantis—and more, untold, fruitless endeavors. Seven days of conflict. No sign of reason, or even hope. But now? Now they could mete out their judgment against that which had tried to turn them against themselves, possess them, destroy them.
That which had consumed everything.*
With powers enhanced by the seabeast of her heart, Dani called upon the watery powers of every great body imaginable, conjuring a grand wave of untold potential force. The wave crashed upon the tree, soaking every inch of wood with its terrible magic, forcing the beast within to stay soaked in aquatic damage. Kyle, invoking his own inner rage, pierced reality to call upon the constrictive dragon that thus set aflame the tree and water both, searing the Thorn in righteous ardor and steam alike.
Joe and Kyla both began to call upon the phenomenal powers inherent in each of them. The cosmic herald ushered unfathomable spatial might in a pinpoint singularity, sending it unto the creature enveloped in the remnants of so many other spells. As he damned the beast with a dose of its own medicine, he let loose the forces of creation’s birth and all the entropy that entailed, consuming the bark and blaze whole. So came Kyla, her solemn words lost in the fury of her own artwork as she called up that pure essence of power in the likeness of her choice: a grand thunderbird-like creature of occult rapture soared toward the beast, and on contact exploded with blinding light before the Big Bang’s explosion was even complete.
All the while, Jenny’s song had continued, through their fight, through their unconscious reminiscence. She had played their planet’s dirge, their ascendant crescendo, and the various chords of their struggle. Now, however, as her Elysian Field surrounded them like a brightly lit starry sky—
—she stopped. And like a cascading torrent, reality itself warped around them all, piercing and blasting at what they’d left behind, working less as one grand spell and more as an incessant barrage to erase what little remained.
And yet, in the aftermath, as the mist of used magic dissipated and they remained in flight, they would see that it did still remain, easily seen in the strange, twinkling abyss. Weakened, unmoving, loosing a low, impotent groan that echoed throughout.
“No… No…”
They might have realized, then, that the reason it was so clearly visible was the sudden radiance of the memory fragments along distant, metaphysical walls; when they’d arrived at this terrible depth, the shards were dull, lifeless, invisible—but now, they were brilliant, like headlights that went on… and on.
The cavern began to rumble, and their weapons began to glow white hot as they felt something building within themselves and beyond.
The column of light never faltered, never waned. What was minutes to the rest of the world felt like seconds to those caught under its illumination, their hearts singing out in harmony with its melody. From the people across the worlds staring up at the streaking pillar, to the citizens and refugees of Disney proper, and all the way to the masters in the Hall of the Cornerstone itself, a fusion of purpose resonated, synchronized and amplified. They felt without knowing that this eruption, this radiant beacon, was not simply lighting the sky. No, it roared too deeply, sang too powerfully. They understood that this light was fighting. And across every walk of life, their emotions, their very stories poured into the brilliant luminance.
The Earthlings, after all, were not the only ones whose lives were forever altered by the Darkness.
Thinking of you, wherever you are.
The world’s people stood their ground, staring up at the sky no more with curiosity but determination. Something was happening, grand and terrible, and this magic called to them—so they answered. The golden dust, which had been gently rising in thin veils, grew greater—brighter, faster, more numerous. The swirling starlight grew into great weaves of white-gold ascending to merge with the beam.
Nowhere was this stronger than Disney. Home of warriors and friends, but importantly, home to the homeless. To the refugees. To the lost, broken shards of other worlds. Thousands and thousands had gathered in that city, saved from the Darkness, saved from war-torn shadow-scarred realms now barren. They had lost their homes, but because of heroes—because of Sora, of Riku, of the Earthlings and their companions—they had not lost each other.
They were bound together in that, a union of survivors and fighters all, and their devotion did not glitter but shine. Theirs was a growing flame, an iridescent blaze that expanded with every new emotion. For miles around, Disney now looked like a sun in the horizon, a town of dawn, of daybreak.
We pray for our sorrows to end, and hope that our hearts will blend.
With every passing second, that pillar grew brighter, more colorful, prismatic in its unhindered emotional power, and that power rushed ever onward to face whatever shadow dare trigger their ire and retribution—carrying with it their own light, their hopes and dreams, their courage to right this malevolent wrong.
—————
The rumbling the fighters felt was soon followed by the entirety of the abyss suddenly being consumed by multi-colored radiance, the entire chasm now lit with unending light from above—and they each felt a jolt of power as streams of light burst out from them by the dozen, by the hundreds, by the thousands. Like golden stars in a prism-sky, silhouettes began to surround the fighters and horror both, projections radiating power and determination like never before. The glowing shards of Louis, then their fighting companions, and soon the Wise Ones, the Princesses, the King’s Guard, the citizens, and then, thousands of refugees, some familiar, some not, all hovering, staring at the monstrosity, filling the air with light-borne power.
Now we will step forward to realize this wish.
Light was unity, and they would never fight alone.
The horror writhed, curling into itself in screeching agony, but it could not escape; the glyph at its waist held it in place, a seedling withering under the burning gaze of countless enraged, empowered hearts. It could not lash out, nor even form words, as every inch of its shadow form seared with pain.
The first to rush the Thorn were the Louis shards, each blurring amidst the beast, reforging the pearl-chains around its manacles such that its arms were held taut at a downward angle. They then conjured rune-etched ribbons around its neck like a noose-shackle, their gossamer threads reaching out in four compass directions and locking into the now-brilliant ground. Consequently, the Darkness was fully leashed, unable to move or struggle in any way.
Other shards began to assault it, in time with the oncoming rush of the heroes’ companions—the Keybladers, Anthony, the other native fighters and Nobodies that stood by their side. They overwhelmed the beast with flurries of steel and spell, prismatic scars lingering and purging away entire lengths of shadow. Cloud, Sora, Leon, and Riku attacked in their various styles, while Auron and Lexaeus went for more powerful, bursting attacks. Demyx and Nanaki called on the radiant manifestations of water and fire to cascade upon the beast’s form, while Axel, Zidane, and Yuffie blurred about at such speed as to be little more than streaks of light themselves.
It bellowed in agony, and a small pulse burst outward as something sparked at the heart-shaped hole in its chest. Another wall was breaking, another shadow barrier—the glyph at its waist flickered, weakening, shrinking. Its entire form trembled, and as it did so, another vision, vivid and instant, showed each of them their homes, their towns, the last sights they’d seen before the fall. Still pristine, still warm, still alive—and then gone in a spreading veil of black. Destroyed.
Other Earthling Silhouettes joined the fray with native fighters. Maggie, Jon, Tifa, and Zell each began unleashing martial slaughter on the Thorn’s imprisoned form, every blow flashing like lightning and booming like thunder. Alan, Michelle, and Aerith created ruptures of golden flame and bolt to ignite every inch of the black beast, their magic flaring. Anthony, Jacob, and Beatrix each began to lash its form with chains, daggers, and magic crescents, shredding dust from dust. And still others, some they recognized and some they didn’t, converged on the monstrosity with melee and magic alike.
A second pulse marked the shattering of another intangible layer in the seed’s defenses, and their chests tightened with a fluttering beat as the images returned. More than their home now, they saw people—civilizations, narrowed instantly down to regions, instantly down to cities, to towns, to their home again, to their loved ones, their faces, the glints in their eyes the last time they saw one another. Pain rippled through them, but it caused their lights to surge, prismatic auras flaring as their weapons seemed to become wholly light incarnate, building, building—and the Thorn howled as the central spark flickered brighter now.
The roar was like a trigger, a catalyst of breaking down the floodgates. The Wise Ones and the Princesses summoned massive, overwhelming bouts of unfathomable magic, each manifesting in their own aspects. Meanwhile, Kairi, Mickey, and even Yen Sid joined Sora and Riku with pulsing Keyblades, sundering the beast from side to side. And thus did thousands upon thousands of others begin their assault on the Heartless, soldiers and civilians alike rushing to inundate it with luminous fury. The ravaged it, body and essence, and with one more resounding shatter—
—their minds and hearts were overcome. Faces flooded through their memory, each a person they’d connected with, even for the barest spark of an instant. From here, from home, their friends, their loved ones—and finally the one voice they’d heard so often saving them tonight, staring at them with boundless determination, the fire of love and life in their eyes.
They once more saw the beast, and their bodies surged with power, even after they had spent every ounce before. The beams connecting them to all the silhouettes burst wider, grander, prismatic in their flow of power. Their weapons were solid light, their bodies were fueled with emotional resilience and fury. The third wall was falling, fracturing into nothing as the glyph below softened to almost nothing. As the army of silhouettes continued their illuminant siege, the Earthlings witnessed the spark in the heart-void begin taking shape—a familiar shape, rounded at the top, angled at the bottom, a circle atop a trapezoid—
A keyhole.
As if feeling that weakness beginning to form, the beast screeched in terror, frantically trying to break its chains, to pull its arms over its chest; it was reduced to little more than a panicking demon knowing its existence would soon be destroyed, its mind erased entirely. The many forces of Light, however, merely stopped their offense and hovered away, stopping near the Earthlings who, by instinct alone, began to aim their weapons at the glowing, calling keyhole.
Power charged through their forms as the silhouettes began to vanish, one by one, dozen by dozen. Their essences were being pulled into the heroes themselves, and with every second, their burgeoning wills blossomed in the heroes’ hearts and minds. They saw starlit nights and family feasts; playing children, working parents; raised pets roaming the fields, racing teens dashing down streets. Gentle soldiers watching through the night, healers working on their patients through the day.
So many aching, nostalgic moments, yet all culminating in the same sensation that fueled the zealous ardor of their light: these people were just like their own, no different from families of any other here or on Earth. Stories untold, lives destroyed, but families saved, lives saved. Everyone had lost something, had been stripped of something, and here, now, they were uniting to save what could be saved and avenge what couldn’t, all urging the Earthlings on with their task, supporting the cause, giving everything they could to help in defeating this facet of corruption forever, unknowingly called forth by Louis’ own broken mind. They would solve this problem, save Narnia, like they had so many other worlds, and then be stronger for it.
In the end, the fifteen of them were left alone—even if they were never truly alone—and in that giant pillar of light, they covered the great spectrum of color with their radiance. Reaching so far beyond the limits of their normal power, they each simultaneously fired a thin stream of light at the keyhole—
—and for the first moment in what seemed like ages, everything became still.
The Thorn stopped struggling as cracks of light began to spread from the keyhole, their incalculable power flooding into the opening. There was no easy ‘click’, there was no tell-tale feeling of ‘unlocking’; the cracks grew into fissures, and fissures into crevices in the horror’s form as they began to overpower the lock. The connection gave them a strange, thorough sensation of warmth. A familiarity, like something was finally fitting into place, or something was finally feeling ‘right’…
… and suddenly, they saw that face again in a flash, while great streaks of light began to burgeon from deep within the creature’s torso, building up through the roots of the glyph as if being pulled from the dark itself.
Shattering glass echoed outward, and suddenly the beast screeched as great beams of light exploded outward in all directions. From those vast beacons, a storm of vibrant red flooded the air, hundreds, thousands, millions—
—of hearts.
They rose like soaring birds, ascending into the æther faster than anyone could count them, and the Earthlings continued to shatter the beast, surging the keyhole with power and causing more ruptures in its form. Its inhuman screech slowly died into nothing as its form unraveled into dust, all while the hearts continued to flood the air, surrounding them, rising above them, until finally—
—a heart flew through each of them. It was like coming from a blizzard to a well-lit hearth, or from isolation to a loving embrace, and again they saw that face, but this time it was joyous, rapturous, tears in its eyes, overwhelming them with love. The flash lasted only a second before the hearts flew on, unable to be caught, rising into the light away from their captor.
They had been freed.
They hovered there, frozen, as the last of the hearts rose into the column of light, and then they were all that was left. The Thorn had unraveled; the seed, visible now in its last moments, fell to ash, and what may have once been roots were scorched to the last. Looking around, it was only them, surrounded by light…
… which, with what could only be described as an ethereal sigh of relief, began to overcome their senses.
The next few moments were somewhat turbulent, their minds and hearts overwhelmed, their conscious perceptions overcome with white light so vibrant as to be opaque, so bright that they could no longer see one another. Only barely could they register that they were being pulled up from the core, ascending in different twists and turns. Yet, in their exodus, they were not entirely isolated—their senses soon became entrenched in the revival of memories not their own every time they seemed to pass through a prismatic flicker, as if they were experiencing the moments first hand.
“Where am I?!” a familiar man's voice rang out from them, furious amidst the cold image of stone and frost; their host held the end of his naginata leveled on none other than the blue-haired Seymour Guado. “Why am I here?”
“Where, is my castle," the maester stated airily. “Why? Well...”
The memory passed, leaving only a blur of white as their consciousness rushed into the next just as quickly.
“"So you're one of Seymour’s apprentices, too? You're pretty strong.” Louis said, his voice exasperated, breathing as though after a heavy workout. Looking forward, they would see another young man with curly, light brown hair holding a scythe over his shoulder.
“Hahaha, funny. You show up in a flurry of darkness that freezes an entire wing of the castle, have no memory of the past four days, and still proceed to kick my a** and you're saying I'm strong?”
“Sorry.” He jostled “Oh, right... I forgot to ask you earlier before our sparring match. What's your name?”
“Michael, you?”
“Pleased to meet you Michael, my name's—”
They moved beyond that shard, and several more flew by so quickly they seemed to blur into one.
“Don't worry little guy. Come to me if you ever run into any more monsters. I'll protect you,” their host reached down to pat the head of Alan.
“I want you to go to Halloween Town,” Seymour said from the cold throne, once held by the White Witch, as Louis knelt several meters in front of him. “You'll be working with Vexen, an old acquaintance of mine.”
“Nice to meet you, Maggie,” came his voice, looking across a bar at a half-drunk-to-very-drunk girl with wavy black hair and a fire in her eyes as she downed another drink from the skeletal tender.
“Mateus stop!” his voice rang out again, sharp with fury. “This wasn't the plan! We're not supposed to hurt them! We're here to protect them! What are you doing?! Let me out! MATEUUUUS!”
“I'd like you to meet your new partner,” Seymour said upon his throne once more, motioning to a visage of Cory surrounded by pyreflies. “Try to get along.”
“What happened to Michael?”
“You're going to infiltrate their group. Get to know them. Protect them. Be their friend. Don't hurt them.” came Seymour’s only response.
“You must be Miss Maggie's friend. She spoke highly of you, Kyla. It's a pleasure to meet you.”
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Kichi.”
“Kyle, was it? Nice to meet you.”
“Your name was Joseph, correct? Would it hurt you to be just a tad nicer? I did just help you.”
“Sayrike? That's a cool name.”
“Jacob? You're quite a wild one aren't you.”
“Nice to meet you, Anthony.”
The flurry of memories careened past, beginning to creep into recent events, quickly reaching the final hours leading up to their arrival in Narnia. They were husks of reflection, filled with creeping images of shadows, demons crawling across the floor and up his legs, apocalyptic nightmares, paranoia and panic—
—and then, two more, so entwined to feel as one:
“If this is your choice, so be it! But you're only throwing your life away!” came Mateus' enraged voice laced with panic, roaring through their minds as their own summons’ might. They stood now in the center of Jadis’ main hall once again, where once he had sparred with a companion, where once he had knelt before the unsent sage of Yevon.
“That was the plan from the beginning!” the boy's voice rang out, clutching a sphere of pulsing black bile. “I should never have existed to begin with! No one should have! This life is a sick joke... and I'm only here to end it!”
The first passed, followed instantly by the second, feeling as little more than a rush forward in time. Now, shadows danced over those icy stone walls around him—walls that they knew, through him, were just a metaphysical replica within the ever-growing spell. The clash of steel echoed and pierced. Blood flowed through icy, unnatural crevices. Battle cries marked the climax of some encounters, while screams of agony signaled the end of others. Their host perceived only blurs from their position at that malign throne at the head of the hall, their gaze feeling empty, hollow, disconnected from the mixture of shadows and distorted violence. His armored grip clenched the arm of the throne splintering layers of ice under his clawed fingers.
One by one the battle sounds dropped off ‘til no sound remained but the soft, steps of a lone figure approaching. Each foot fell accompanied by a series of drips, feeding the clear glass of the floor with red dye.
“So... you've finally made it this far, they asked, raising his face to smile at a copy of himself who stood over him with a scowl—eerie both for the host and the voyeur, seeing Louis so close yet so fractured. “Was it worth it? You made it all the way here... at the cost of everything you held dear. First, your love. Then, your compassion. Your conscience. And your hope. You gave it all up... now here you are. Was it really worth it?”
“No... it wasn't,” the other him raised his blade and plunged it into the one sitting proudly on his throne, and for that brief second they felt the blade slide between their ribs.
They passed through that shard at last, leading them to the near-end of their journey—and the reverie’s finale. No visuals accompanied this fragment, having come from a time too broken, too incomplete to retain them.
“They will come for you,” a female voice stated.
“Let them. I'm counting on it.”
“Do you feel nothing for them? Does this not pain you? Were they not your friends? Your comrades?”
“It was all a lie. It meant nothing. I knew that from the start, but I attempted to fool myself into thinking otherwise... for the sake of my mission.”
“And what of your mission now?”
“My mission has been and always will be the same. Wasting one moment more shackled to that pathetic façade would have only hindered my goal.”
“Why do you lie to yourself? Why go to all these lengths if you feel nothing?”
“Perhaps I do feel something... perhaps I did... but... all the more reason I must succeed—“
“—I will end it right here in this castle... the place where it all began.”
—————
Their minds fluttered back to their own forms as things suddenly felt… real. Their final twists and turns from the core had brought them into some distant corner of Louis’ heart, but here, with the light still radiating not simply from themselves but the world outside this world, the barrier between heart realm and reality was… thin.
The group found themselves in a circular chasm of black crystal, lined with a massive array of glowing magical circuits flowing up along the walls. There, at the center of the space amidst them all, stood a thin, obsidian rapier piercing what appeared to be a dimly glowing object. At closer inspection, as their senses grew out of the daze of memory, the illuminated sphere would quickly be recognized as a living heart, metaphysical and semitransparent, pinned to the floor by the rapier and sewn through by multiple black threads, tendrils of the same black crystal that surrounded them even now.
The first to step forward would find that any step was met with a resounding beat and a flash; for a single, instantaneous moment, many of the earthlings may have experienced what might have been a vision or a dream. For some, it may have been a dance on a moonlit night; for others, a solemn farewell; for more still, a passing nod, or word of encouragement. For each it was different, but a moment of time-locked connection nonetheless. They returned from such reveries by the end of that same flash as a flickering, tiny blossom of light rang out from their chests, sounding out perhaps like the clear key stroke of a piano, or the chime of a bell, or the draw of the bow on violin—each was unique, just as their reveries, all harmonizing into a beautiful orchestra building together for but a moment before falling into silence.
By the time their eyes readjusted from the flash of light, nine silhouettes of pure white stood in a circle around the rock-gouging rapier.
“Friendship is a promise.”
The figures reached out and grabbed the sword, their hands intertwining around the grip as a pulse went out, shaking the walls as if a tremendous force pressed against the blade. Small fragments of the roof clattered harmlessly across the floor as cracks split up the walls.
“A promise to keep. A promise to nurture.”
The blade gave, just a bit, as the figures flickered, casting the subterranean cavern back and forth from deep purples and sickly greens to bright, prismatic light. With a subtle, high pitch snap, one crystalline thread and tendril embroidering the heart broke, its obsidian fragments disintegrating into nothing.
“A promise to soothe and to heal. To teach. To persevere. To protect.”
The flickers grew less frequent, as the light from the figures pulsed into a larger nova, the strongest point at which their hands gripped the hilt. There was a sharp rise accompanied by a cacophony of tiny glass-bell chimes when the blade shifted further and further out of the heart.
“To lead. To follow. To face the unknown hand in hand.”
As the blade seemingly reached its end, the tip surfaced from the heart accompanied by blooming ribbons of light, coiling and flowing outward from the heart, wrapping all in the area in wafting sheets of warm sunlight and... music? It was as if there were once disconnected shambles of vaguely recognizable instruments, and they quickly drew together into song. Then, from that flaring light, deep in the seemingly endless outpouring of radiance, the familiar, iridescent body of Louis floated up, attached at the chest to the sword, which now floated high above the nine figures, each silhouette nearly lost in the overwhelming lightshow, and then gone from sight entirely.
“Friendship is soft... and friendship is painful.”
As the glowing body itself reached a few feet off the ground, anyone watching the heart beneath it would see it lift off the stone slabs, sweeping twice from side to side, ascending in spiral-like fashion before finally meeting the body with another resurgence of light that flowed into the blade itself, shattering the obsidian shell and leaving only an apparent shaft of light that seemed to pierce the body where the blade’s tip once touched.
And then, the culmination—
“Friendship is love.”
The body shattered. Not violently, no, far from it. Softly, like sand breaking apart in still waters, slowly losing its semblance of shape and drifting outward towards and through everyone else. In that moment, everyone touched by tiny fragments of light could feel—not hear—his words.
“Thank you... for keeping your promise.”
There was the sudden sound of a roaring vacuum as the air around them grew heavily charged with magic, all rushing into the center of the room where the heart had once been. It was like being just at the wall of the hurricane’s eye; they were unaffected, but vast quantities of chaotic energy soared into that singular point, only to unravel entirely. And then, with the suddenness of a gasp, the air once more went still and silent…
The spell, once tied to that heart, had been let go. It had collapsed—and they knew, instinctively beyond any doubt or chance of illusion, that they were finally, truly free.
The 'reveries' mentioned after the music cues are intended to be optional ATEs for people who want to have a moment alone with Louis before his end. Talk to Rhiko if you're interested!
There was a soft rumble in the ground, which Noelle, as an earth mage, would innately feel coming from deep beneath the surface of the island. It was slow and weak, not even enough to mess with their balance, but it was semi-constant; it became clear that sometime in the near future—not soon, but within the next hour—the accumulated forces would bring the castle down.
Now, with the spell’s effects lost, they could see they were in a poorly lit dungeon beneath the castle proper. The only light giving them something to go by was off to the side, funneling in from a stairwell; it was the only visible exit, and anyone with wind or earth sense would be able to tell it was a safe way to go. And, odd events though they’d experienced, it was—at last—time to go.
When they would start their journey, from those stairs, they’d find themselves in a side tower, which would connect to the old, dilapidated main hall, with the grand double doors leading them back through a now-empty courtyard, to the safe and secure bridge that would allow them to cross the slowly-melting waters. On the opposite side, in a clearing along the lakeside, they’d fine the train safely landed, with their native friends—and Anthony—having recently come back to consciousness. For most, their last memories entailed the destruction of the massive Darkside; for Anthony, he seemed to have fallen unconscious shortly after they’d left to re-enter the tower.
Once outside, they would see no pillar of light; they would not even know that it had been a pillar from the sky until someone who had seen it told them—and Merlin and Aslan, who would arrive shortly after they escaped the castle, would be the ones to do just that.
But for now… they still stood in that empty basement. It was time to begin the trek on an emotionally-draining victory lap.
Kyle's breathing was... hitched. Not caught entirely, but struggling. For a number of reasons, though he wouldn't lie, having to actually breathe again and feel the genuine air in his lungs was peculiar.
You never notice that when you go in, but...
He looked around at the lot of them, half-wondering if they'd all experienced the same things. It was... a confusing collection of emotions. Overwhelming them all was a sense of suspicious joy, followed shortly by discomfort; could it be? Had they really been able to--
"Guys, can you hear me?!
Kyle visibly cringed.
"Yeah, there's, uh... no need to shout."
"Oh! Sorry! Are you guys trapped, or can you get out?"
He looked around them all; admittedly, he momentarily activated Clarity, checking the surroundings. Nope... just the fifteen of them.
"We'll be out of here soon enough. Just catching our breath."
"Good. Then you guys can maybe fill us in on why we're here and you're there," Riku chimed in.
Kyle looked back at the hole in the stone floor. No, it was done. Now, though, there was something he had to do, as soon as possible.
Seeing that everyone was at least in one piece, he nearly began to walk to the door, turning and everything, before catching himself and instead walking over to Nicholas. He pulled out a leather pouch just a little larger than a coconut, pulled open the string, and held open the bag in front of the man.
"Take one. Magical repairing clothes, mental communication channels with each of us and the others in our party, and most importantly for you," he said, slightly nodding his head toward Nicholas. "A leash on the summon in your heart so they can never overpower your will."
Posted: Wed Oct 12, 2016 4:24 pm
[ Joe : Narnia : Jadis' Dungeon ]
Joe was familiar with the sensation of coming off of an adrenaline high. Muscles you could barely feel before become heavy and lethargic, thoughts that were once hyper-focused begin to scatter, and the constant war between instinct and training settles into a brief detente.
What he wasn't used to was having to remember to breath again. He doubled over and coughed and sputtered a good deal once he realized that.
Part of him was relieved, hell, ecstatic that he had somehow managed to BS his way through all that and another part was screaming "screw the hangover spell, when you get back to the castle you're pouring yourself a stiff drink." For the moment, the latter half was winning the message war. "Jesus ********..." he cursed, well beyond the point of caring for politeness. "Is this what a normal night out is like for you people?"
He paused briefly to straiten himself up a bit, leaning on his sword like it were a cane. "Just what the hell was that thing anyway? It sure as hell wasn't Louis."
With the return to the real world came a few basic needs. Firstly, as the others had already noticed, air. Bobbi sucked in a breath, deep, until her lungs hurt with it. It didn't even register to her for a second; she had a bad habit of forgetting to breathe when she was concentrating, so this seemed totally normal to her. Mostly her thought around it was a generalized "oh this again."
Her every muscle quivered, and she knew that if she sat down she wouldn't get back up again. Through sheer force of will, Bobbi stayed on her feet, swaying only a little. She chuckled at Joe's question, and scrubbed one hand through her hair as she answered.
"It was a little more hectic than usual," she admitted, trailing her fingers through the long tresses and arguing a little with a snarl near the ends. "But that's been kind of the gist of it, yeah. Fight after battle after skirmish. At least it's good exercise. As for what that... darkness was, well, can we just say it wasn't good and leave it at that for now?" She held out the hand that had been in her hair a moment ago, parallel to the floor, and watched in a kind of detached fascination as it shook.
"I think I need food," she mused, then started heading towards the stairs leading up. "Shall we go? We can muse and speculate and verbally dissect the situation when we're back on the train." She paused as she watched Kyle offering Nick a dressphere, but shrugged and continued on. No matter how long Nick took about taking one, unless he was an argumentative t**t about it, Bobbi wasn't walking fast enough to leave anyone behind for long. Her knees were too wobbly.
Posted: Wed Oct 12, 2016 9:15 pm
[Joseph: Narnia: Jadis' Dungeon]
Joseph's hand were shaking, and he felt like he was going to be ill all over the dungeon floor.
He was overtired. He was coming off of adrenaline(and not just his berserker kind). And it seemed to be finally over. Oh and his heart had broken in the midst of the entire thing. Honestly he was surprised he wasn't frayed to pieces, mentally and emotionally.
He assumed it was from knowing he still had to get back to Disney.
"Usually illusion bullshit doesn't happen. And we never...well...lost, before." He frowned as he responded to Joe's questions. Sure Bobbi answered, but he felt like adding his own two cents to the pot.
"But otherwise, for the past seven days, that's been...pretty standard. It's crazy and we get tossed from one thing to another." The berserker shrugged. "No idea what that was, though. My guess would be something spawned from Louis or Mateus-oh."
The male put a hand to his mouth, closing his eyes as he tried to reorient himself and his nauseated stomach.
"I'm kind of ready to go, too, honestly." He watched Bobbi head towards the stairs, then gave Noelle a look and a smile. "Glad you're safe."
The ringing in her ears hit Noelle harder than any of the other symptoms of physical exhaustion. She winced a bit and rubbed her temples gently, feeling her head pulse with a steady and predictable throb. A quick look around told her everyone was there, and seemed to have the same muscles-turned-to-jelly feeling she had. But they were all there, and that was relieving enough for her to ignore the now-dulling whine in her ears.
"Only when we go clubbing." Noelle smirked in response to the newest in their ranks. People began moving toward the exit, and Joe smiled in her direction with a side comment. It took her a brief moment to remember what he was talking about.
"Uh--oh, oh yeah, thanks. I didn't mean to skip out on you guys, I--"
She stopped dead. . . . They don't know.
The blonde tried to pick up her feet a little faster than her body was ready for and stumbled a bit before hastily heading for the exit, an urgent and forceful phrase coming from her lips,"We have to go."
Posted: Wed Oct 12, 2016 9:48 pm
[Dani :~: Narnia :~: Jadis’ Dungeon]
Dani, when coming back into reality just let out a loud sigh before getting a good look at herself in her new outfit. “Well, I guess that didn’t go away,” Dani saying out loud before summoning both of her chakrams to inspect them. Both of her chakrams had returned to normal and Dani couldn’t help but smile.
“There is honestly a lot I want to say, “ Dani spoke. “It just isn’t the best time. Let’s just say that what happened down there isn’t one of my finer moments and I feel a bit to blame.”
With that Dani dissipated her chakrams and started to walk slowly before stopping near Nicholas for a second. “Glad you aren’t dead,” Dani smirked. “Can’t have someone who threw me directly at the enemy in an awesome combo move die on me yet.”
Dani continued forward after that not bothering to listen for Nicholas and headed after Noelle to the exit. “I think I agree with Noelle. Stumbling to the best of our abilities out of here might be our best option.”
Nicholas tried to recenter himself after the grueling fight, between the Darkness and the Seed 2: The Seedening. He had already dealt with one today, the second was just disgusting. Add in all the illusions, including what he had done to Louis, how easy it had been to strangle the guy to death...
It left him queasy.
As the other Earthlings moved this way and that to make their way out, the Earthling Nicholas would have least likely wanted to see, Kyle, approached him with a bag and explained what was in the bag. Magical clothing orbs... sounds fake, but okay. Nicholas reached into the bag, pulling out an opalescent orb and holding it in his hand for a long moment.
"I'll look at it later, thanks."
He stated curtly as he slid the orb into his pocket, turning his attention towards the new member of the Earthling group (aka Joe). He had begun to ask about what the Seed was, and seeing as Nicholas had the only true experience with the Seed and its origins, he might as well be the one to explain.
"That thing, swordsman, was a Seed of Darkness." He paused, then grinned slightly. "Or a SoD. Whatever. Point is, they formed back when Ajora touched the Dark Cornerstone. And before any of you ******** gasp in surprise, yes, it's a thing. Anyway, I was offered a deal by the Darkness. Not Xehanort, not Xemnas, but a grouping of shadow people things. Offered protection and strength. I agreed."
Nicholas trailed off, beginning to join the rest of the group as they walked, deciding maybe sitting in this castle wasn't the best of ideas. "Unbeknownst to me at the time, the deal came with a very ugly cost: the Seed itself is a doorway which connected my heart to the Darkness. In short, I was utterly enslaved and if I even attempted to stray from the Darkness, I would have been reigned back in or killed." He paused for a moment, then continued as if his trail of thought didn't derail. "Although, I will say, my Seed was nowhere near as big as Louis'. His had more to feed on than mine did, and he didn't have the luck I had when it came to removing my Seed. Power of friendship and all that." The bard grinned, giving a look in Noelle's direction before continuing onward.
Kyle went to interject as Nicholas put the sphere in his pocket, but then he started explaining the seed; Kyle had an inkling (or a seedling, I suppose) about the thing from his acquired memories, but only just the origin--not what it entailed. So he followed along, close, and listened in. When the man finished, Kyle stepped ahead (the younger man, he noticed, walked slower despite his height) and stood in the way.
"Nah-ah. You activate the sphere now," he said, narrowing his eyes. "You've lost control to Chaos twice now and there's no telling what other influences he has on you, like Mateus on Louis. You use that now and put that leash on, or we can't trust you."
"...No offense, but I've been taking offers left and right lately and I've been getting ******** over non-stop. Chaos is gone, he's locked away for good. He's not even in my body anymore. See?" Nicholas would stick his tongue out at Kyle. Normally a defiant gesture, the bard would point at his tongue. "No seal. Besides, I have a witness. Noelle helped me remove the b*****d."
He'd look to Noelle, who'd nod in response before turning back to him.
"Listen, strange people wandering around in castles offering magical orbs is no basis for a system of trust! True trustworthiness derives from faith and goodness, not some farcical magical girl transformation ceremony!" Nicholas stated, seeming slightly overdramatic in his tone. He seemed to be poking fun, but at the same time seemed defensive and a tiny bit... awkward?
Kyle's lips twitched, but his face otherwise descended into a scowl. His eyes glossed violet--a shade Nicholas might have recognized--and though his gaze never actually left the other man's eyes, he saw that the sword was, at least, imbued with massive amounts of magic. Wind-elemental magic, which was notably absent from Nicholas.
He turned off Clarity, his eyes returning to brown.
"Okay, then let the sword go and let someone else carry it," he said, looking warily at the man. "Alternatively, activate the sphere so all of us can be sure there won't be feedback. Cute little attempts to deflect the situations aside, you want to talk about trust? This is a serious matter given your history. Your refusal isn't exactly giving us any reason to trust you."
He stopped, seemingly done. But a second later, perhaps even as Nicholas was beginning to speak, he jolted back to talking. "Oh, and you can take it off whenever. I mean, there's never really any reason to, but you can."
Nicholas stared for a long moment at Kyle, blue peering into brown before the bard stood to his full height as if in defiance. After a pause, his shoulders would sag in defeat and Nicholas would frown. "Alright, fine." He would reach into his pocket, squeezing the orb within it and with a quick flash of smoke, his outfit would have changed. But it didn't. The only noticeable change is the chef coat and pants the bard was wearing were shiny and new compared to their previous ragged state, and he looked obviously annoyed at Kyle's nagging. "There. Are you happy?"
The act of standing to his full height made Kyle tense, unnoticeably, and magic unconsciously stirred within his fingertips. However, when he grabbed the sphere and caused the flash, all tension left, and Kyle eagerly watched, waiting--
--as only a little smoke appeared, and his normal clothes seemed to remain, just repaired.
"... huh," he said, deflated, as all the earlier vigor seemed to suddenly leave him. He shrugged.
"Yeah, though I was hoping to see an element. Anyway, thanks, and sorry for that." He sheepishly smiled at the man before turning sideways and waving toward the door. "Welcome aboard and all that stuff, let's get the hell out of here."
The bard would blink in surprise, head tilted to the side. Element? What the hell was he talking about? Nicholas would raise a brow in confusion, tightening his grip on his -- no, Garland's -- sword and continuing to walk. "Way to give me emotional whiplash, you b*****d." Nicholas groaned, his thumb tapping each finger in his free hand. "...And what did you mean by 'element', exactly?"
She was brought back from something, a conversation (pending) where she was still asking the same question. Asking if a fundamental truth, brought to task form what just occurred, was real or not.
"Oh it's you-.... Yah- we sure did. You were here all this time?" Took you long enough to get here. It was boring. You've come a long way so I forgive you.
How could one stand being at the precipice of victory elation, relief, and total sorrow continue to function right? Imbued with the unified collective hope and wonderful, fury and justice and plummet back to the bottom again so quickly. Shame cloyed at her feet, light beat in her heart which felt so worn and hollow from this constant strain.
'Where... where did he go ?'
Her heart asked as if it wasn't something to ask, ignoring the truth that was there. It was too difficult to focus- she felt glad she got to keep a promise, and crushed at the same time. Another loss among so many losses already was coming into realization. It didn’t feel like victory even if the heart was set free. Even if on some plane, some space where friendship and love existed, the artist could perhaps take solace they got to meet one more time. Now she was left behind- again. Reaching out with no hand, only a thought or feeling for a response. She was strong and weak all at once and the divide was maddening, always always maddening.
"I love you. I know that. So then... s-somsething is wrong." Don't worry... it'll be ok. Just wait a bit longer.
"I missed you. I know I missed you. I'm so sorry I took so long."
At some point she gasps, sucking in the air as her body realized it had to breath, not stay frozen in place forever like the rest of the icy dungeon walls. She didn’t want to move. If lingering could hold the fallen, some remnant or memory- a memento, just a fraction of a fraction of time longer...long enough to hear his response once more.
But such magics were Kyle’s and Jenny’s domain not hers.
Everything was still fuzzy to her, her body still hummed with power that was both hers and not hers. No doubt that was keeping her awake, conscious, otherwise this would have been too much. Her heart was screaming now, loud, louder for lips that were shut tight. ... something was wrong. It was messed up, odd, like realizing a distortion in a picture you once accepted as complete. She’d taken the emotional weight, time and time again, but this time it was so so heavy- and she contemplated if she had to right to feel this way.
"I kept looking for you... there's so much I saw. I've tried to keep it here for you to look at. Pages and Pages full. b-but something is ..er..not right. missing... ------ it hurts so much... I- I don't know WHY!"
It did a mean thing to you... don't worry. It'll all be over eventually. Just you wait. Our hearts are connected. Now that I'm free... free with all of them now... I promise-
'...Louis... are you here?'
And she was sad. So..so....so very sad.
'If.. if you're not there...'
If he wasn't there, then it would bring the artist to a realization of the passing of ......-------------
There it was again.
“ We have to go.”Noelles firm notification came into clarity around the same time everything else did. Jadis’s dungeon. They had to go- and Noelle seemed adamant about it. Noelle, she was back- ah, yes. Joe was cursing, probably his first rodeo and what a first trial run this was- poor guy. Joseph was talking, Kyle was talking to- to Nick right? New names to remember.
In all, they were fifteen and now it was clear their friends had been separated from them. She could hear them somewhere outside, and even as other began to disembark, the artist stepped back, looking long and hard at the spot where perhaps her friend's final apparition disintegrated. She looked for a hole or mark where the rapier pierced the heart into the floor. All this time the girls face was expressionless, eyes just blinking, mouth saying nothing.
'Louis?...Here you there?'
As if for a second time- realizing- that the reality around them was truly back- Kyla took a good look. She drank in the space and committed it to memory going into that recon mode- cracking open her book, and copying everything. Only then she finally turned to start walking out. If you could call it that. It was slow, unsteady, like a zombie unsure of movement, unsure if she could. Each step took purpose and determination to remove herself from standing there forever asking- asking.
Calling.
Listening helped. She was good at that- so she liked to think. Tracing the last things she saw on the way out, making footnotes, seeing the discrepancies in her journal from the alterations and gaps in memory and sense. The real look of the dungeon chamber was etched into the book with crystal clarity finally.
Kyla didn't stop there- she forced whatever else she could recall, from the illusions, those impressions that remained- she tried to capture, summon them all, as many as that were left and copy them into the book. Surely something in that chaos of collage she'd find sense. She didn’t want to forget. None of it. She wanted to remember everything to it’s finest detail.
... Louis? I wont forget you ok? Are you there?'
Doodles, sketches, bled ink blotches, swaths of color, she switched between needs as she walked, turning page after page. Any observing would notice the passionate artist going through quite a few as a rapid pace. Perhaps to sue what power still thrumming inside her to make the most of her record keeping. It helped the chronicler focus, and keep the chaos of emotions in her head, heart, and mind at bay until she was in safer surroundings. No way... in any stretch of the imagination- ...was she ok.
- and one glance at Joseph told her she wasn’t alone in that.
The observant might see the artist dart her glance back down to her book, copying foot notes about the Dark Seed from Nick as he and Kyle spoke.
Just get back.
... Dark Seed?...
...where... I can't find you in this mess... the mess of her pages held no proper purchase for emotional reassurance. Still she kept drawing, walking, thinking and not-thinking. Distracting herself so she could keep walking. Joy, Light, Pain, and sorrow, Desperation, Hope, all knotted and scrapping her out.
“It’s oddly helpful for things...the dressphere-” she commented whilst passing the two men, not even realizing she had spoken to Nick. Her tone was- oddly upbeat sounding in contrast. She deftly lifted a finger to pull her hood forward. This gesture- caused the dressphere to broaden the curve of it to fit nicely over her head and shadow her eyes. It was a simple adjustment to properly sit over her head without causing a headache, but the shape did double duty of hiding her full expression from people.
Kyla could be noted keeping some pace away from anyone in particular as they'd continue, at a distance she was just chronicling and not calling out, over... and over...
Noelle easily took the lead on getting out of the Dungeon, moving more urgently than anyone else and frequently having to stop for everyone to catch up. The stairwell was pretty common-sense navigation--go up. But after that she was sure everyone would get lost without her. She was able to feel the stones of the castle and map out a route that would get them to the front fastest. Noelle got to the top of the long spiraling stairwell and waited impatiently, rocking on her feet a bit and looking down the hallway in the direction they needed to be heading.
"Hey, now that you two are done posturing, can we pick up the pace? We gotta go." She said brusquely, an anxious pit forming in her stomach.
All she could think was, Maybe they saved her. Maybe they got there in time and stopped him and saved her . . .
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