Prologue:
Interlude IV: Sora
Once upon a time, there was a boy who lived on an island.
It was one of several islands, surrounded by the wide blue ocean, and it was his whole world. A small world, perhaps, but a complete world nonetheless. And the boy was happy there. He wanted for nothing.
Then, one day, a girl came to the islands, and the boy realized there were other worlds out there -- worlds that were probably very different from his own. He was curious, of course, but he was still happy with his world.
(he would have always been happy with his world)
One of the boy's friends felt differently. The island world had always seemed too small to him, and now, knowing there were other worlds out there, he wanted nothing more than to escape it and visit some of them -- worlds no doubt larger and more interesting than his own.
"Let's go together," he said at last, and the boy hesitated, because he really liked his island home, but he and the girl both agreed to go along, because they were, after all, the best of friends, and wherever one of them went, the others had to follow.
They built a raft together, and planned to set sail, but their escape from the islands was to be something very different.
Although none of them quite knew it, the boy's friend's desperate longing had opened his heart up to darkness, and because his heart was special, it took their whole world with it.
The three friends were separated, and the boy became a hero. Chosen by a mystical weapon known as the Keyblade, he alone was capable of fighting back the darkness, and saving other worlds from the same fate as his home. Although he never stopped thinking about the friends he had left behind, the boy also made new friends, and they worked together to destroy the darkness and bring back all the worlds that had been devoured by it.
For a while it seemed as though the boy's journey might be over, his work done
(would it ever be done?)
but although he had been reunited with the girl and knew he could now go back to their island world together, his other friend was still lost, and he was determined not to leave without finding him.
With the help of his new friends, the boy left the girl behind and entered a mysterious castle, where he fell under a terrible spell. Every floor traveled stole more of his memories away, and soon the boy no longer knew quite why he had come. He forgot his friends, forgot all the wonderful things he had done, and for a while he did not even care, because in place of those memories he was gaining new ones -- memories of another girl, a girl more important to him than anything.
Bad people in black tried to stop him from getting to the higher floors. They told him that the forgotten girl was there, that they had taken her prisoner, that she was waiting for him to rescue her, and the boy hated himself for not remembering her sooner. He fought them, the way he had fought against the darkness, but somehow he knew they weren't dark. They felt... like something else.
He reached the top floor of the castle, and he found the forgotten girl. And then he realized the truth.
The forgotten girl had never been one of his friends. Instead, she was a witch, responsible for his lost memories, responsible for creating the new memories he now had of her. She wasn't a bad witch, or a bad person -- she had never wanted to hurt him -- but she had had no choice. And the boy understood this, in the end. He knew to blame the people in black, and not the witch. They had forced her to do these terrible things to him, and in a way, he was still glad to have the false memories. The witch, whatever else she might have been, was so painfully lonely. The boy almost wished his memories were real.
But he still hadn't found his friend, and he needed to remember in order to do that, so when the witch asked him to choose -- keep his memories of her, or regain his memories of them, because he couldn't do both and stay sane -- he chose the memories of them.
Even though it really hurt her.
Even though it made him feel terrible.
Even though he really wanted to--
Because he was sure he would still remember her, somewhere deep down, no matter what.
(he was wrong)
The witch told him that she would restore all of his old memories, and then she put him into a deep, deep sleep.
For a while he knew nothing, only warmth and comfort. He dreamed sometimes, mostly things that didn't make sense, like a dark place full of buildings so tall they must have been monsters, and people who spoke to them like they knew him (only they didn't). He dreamed of fighting the darkness, but in a strange way -- for pleasure.
He dreamed of doing terrible things, and not caring.
Worlds fell, and he watched, and he helped, and he didn't care.
The boy felt restless during these dreams, shifted in his sleep and made sounds, and the witch, ever-watchful, soothed him with her power. She did not know what he was dreaming about, of course; she wouldn't have thought such a thing possible. (Her kind wasn't worth dreaming about.) But she soothed him all the same.
Eventually a man discovered her work, and though the boy slept, he could sense that there was something wrong. The man was not kind to the witch, and treated her poorly, and tried to force her to rush the process, because he wanted the boy (the hero) for his own purposes. He worked her very hard.
The dreams changed, after that. The boy saw a bright town instead of the dark city, and kids his own age. He dreamed of ice cream, and school days. These dreams were less unsettling than the ones from before, but somehow they only made the boy even more restless. There was something...
(empty)
about them.
Then, one day, the boy stopped having any dreams at all.
He had never noticed that he wasn't complete. Sometimes, after all the lights were out in their campsite, he had felt a little strange -- distant, distracted, in a way he shouldn't have been -- but the boy would never have thought to put it quite like that. The morning always came eventually, and he was always able to push the feeling away, concentrating on other, more important things. Because there were always more important things.
But even asleep, even deeply unconscious and faraway from his body, when He entered the white room, the boy knew instantly.
It was hard to describe. Sort of, the boy would decide later, like seeing a familiar building in the distance and running towards it, only realizing when you're much closer that the building in question is your house. Your home.
He was just starting to run when he heard the voice -- His voice.
No.
No?
The idea was painful.
Actively painful.
He had never known what he was missing, but now that he did -- now that it was there in this room with him, a part of himself within such easy reach -- the boy felt sick at the thought of not reclaiming it. Loneliness so intense would have reminded him of the witch, if he had been able to remember her any longer.
But the voice protested instantly. I'm not a part of you.
The boy didn't understand. Couldn't understand. But you are a part of me.
Aren't you?
Slowly, distantly, the boy realized that the feeling had changed. He wasn't running towards the house anymore. But they were still coming closer together, somehow. Which was a relief, because he wanted them to be closer.
No, the voice said, and its strength was tremendous. No, I'm me. And...
(and you're me, too)
Somehow he had become the house, but he didn't care. Staying apart was too hard. It took so much concentration. The idea of letting go -- of being whole again -- was such a relief. It would be nice, wouldn't it?
Yes. I want that, too.
The boy smiled at the thought, and then he stopped existing.
Roxas had a silver pendant in his hand. It was in the shape of a crown.
Everything felt different now. The air, the light, felt bright and fresh. As if he, too, had just awoken from a long slumber. He sat down on one of the petals that had previously made up the curved shell of Sora's chamber, and let himself just... relax for a long moment.
After a while, he tucked the pendant away in his pocket. It didn't quite belong to him, but it did, and he wanted to keep it.
Somewhere deep inside, the boy was glad that he did.
NEXT >>> Prologue (Part 16)