Kingdom Hearts Fan Fiction ❯ Unfulfilled Prophecy ❯ Chapter 6 ( Chapter 6 )

Chapter 6

 

Morgana Maeve

 

Where's my snow, damn it? It's cold enough.

 

Disclaimer - I own Winter, Hotaru, Xenos, and any OC's that happen to inhabit this fic. Sora and Kingdom Hearts belong to Tetsuya Nomura and Disney. (If Disney owns Sora, then how come there's no Kingdom Hearts stuff in the Disney Store? They should have a Sora bedspread. I'd totally buy that…Shaddup.)

 

*~[--]----------_--_-

 

Sora's heart, safe by day and ensnared by night, beat uneasily against his chest as the darkness lapped at its edges, eager to heed the beckoning call of the blackness churning just beyond the door. Louder it called, bidding its partner to come play in the chill wind that swirled powdery snow in dizzying circles.

 

Wind perfect for erasing tracks.

 

Again, the darkness within the soiled depths of Sora's heart pulsed, and the normal beating of his heart lulled. Frost cracked on the glass window, icy fingers reaching no more, and time stood still. The wind died down from a gusty roar to a breathy whisper and then stood still, as if it were holding its breath in anticipation. The whirling snow settled with a quiet sigh, and all was still as the two silvery moons of Icy Creek rose in harmony. As they floated upwards like twin nacreous bubbles tracing patterns in the inky sky, from the spot where Sora's feet first touched the ground from his descent from the cliff, a long, mournful cry sang out, the melancholy note hanging in the still of the night. Another note joined it, and together, the wails sang a song of desolation and decay, and as the last clear note echoed tenuously throughout the night, the darkness, freed by song, surged forth throughout Sora's body.

 

From its epicenter at his heart, the darkness spread its spindly, wispy fingers, twining around Sora's chest and limbs, twisting through his blood. It boiled around him, and with a sharp moan, his back arched and the thick blankets fell away from his body, revealing overheated flesh to the biting cold. Blue eyes snapped open, black tendrils swirling in ever-changing patterns across his irises, and he rose, long legs sliding out of the warm bed onto the cold stone floor, his body shivering, though his subconscious failed to register this. In four quick strides, he was at the door, and as soon as he had laid his hand against the frosted metal of the handle, an immense gale, seemingly unable to contain its excitement any longer, threw it open with a resounding bang, revealing two hazy silhouettes sitting regally in the snow. Sora stepped outside, the heavy oak door closing silently behind him, and the wind stopped howling abruptly, as if an invisible barrier had been erected around him and his two unexpected, yet not totally uninvited, guests. In fact, just beyond where their tails laid curled in the snow, branches still shook and scattered snow in gusty abandonment.

Such is the power of the darkness.

 

The two visitors - wolves - one dusky black and the other nearly melting into the snow, sat before him, their great haunches nearly buried in the deep snow, watching him intently with fine golden eyes. The silvery one, the taller of the two, stood and shook stray snowflakes of its coat before prancing around at the edge of the invisible barrier, eager to start hunting. He yipped at Sora and snapped his jaws, jumping excitedly on powerful hind legs. The darker one, both smaller and thinner than her companion, walked forward to nuzzle Sora's hand, her coat sleek and thick to his touch. He petted her head and scratched the underside of her throat, as if she were a mere overly large, overly friendly dog, and as he did so, she pressed her snout into his side, inhaling the sharp metallic scent of death and darkness that flowed around her new master. She barked twice, and in response, the darkness told Sora the wolves' names.

 

“Kali and Argyros,” he whispered, and the wolves tilted their heads at the sound. The darkness continued, weaving the tale of Argyros, the tall, silver male, the invisible hunter, whose presence meant certain death was approaching, and of Kali, the black female, the stalker of shadows, whose presence meant impending disaster. Sibling guardians of nighttime horrors, created by a god swallowed in darkness, they served only those who likewise embraced the darkness until they had been banished to the bowels of the world by enchantments and bindings, only to be freed when Kingdom Hearts had been corrupted and the worlds plunged into the black abyss. They had wandered in the forests marking the borders of their world, waiting for their master - at one time it had been Xehanort, who had called himself Ansem, and who had passed by the world without so much as a backwards glance, and now they served Sora, the accidental false god of Icy Creek.

 

Argyros howled impatiently, pawing the snow in agitation, and Kali positioned herself at Sora's side, waiting for him to move forward, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. Sora smiled at them.

 

“Let's start the hunt,” he said, his voice the deep tenor of his darker side. His smile widened, and in the moonlight, his eyes shown with a stunningly eerie clarity, much like the greenish glow reflected in the wolves' eyes. Both canines danced around his feet as he extended his arm in front of him, palm up, and the barrier surrounding the three disappeared, the wind rushing in to fill the gap, whipping fur and hair in to a snowy frenzy. Kali and Argyros howled again, and began sprinting into the night, Sora following close behind, the darkness lending his body the strength to withstand cold and fatigue in return for more of his ever-so-slowly shrinking heart.

 

*~[--]----------_--_-

 

Izotz felt his head pressing harder onto his palm, and every time he blinked, it took such an effort to open his eyes again that he wondered why he even bothered trying to keep them open. Besides, the fire in front of him was so warm, and he'd been on watch duty for hours, and he hadn't slept well for nights now, with the wolves howling and whatnot, and he was just so tired, and the fire was just so very nice…and…and…

 

The sharp pain that blossomed in the back of his head brought him rushing back into reality, and his head slipped from his suspiciously wet palm, falling to the floor with a loud thump. He started back up, blinking groggily from sleep and pain, mildly wondering if this was what a concussion felt like. Maybe they would let him leave early.

 

“And just what do you think you're doing, Izotz?” Izotz groaned. He knew that voice well.

 

“I was tired,” he mumbled, turning to look back at Victor, the overbearing and pompous high priest, with muzzy eyes. Victor glowered at him, brandishing his staff, the knobbed end of it the same shape and size as the lump forming on the back of Izotz's head.

 

“Why does he even have that thing, anyway?” he thought. “It's not like he's old or anything. I bet he just likes to hit people with it.” He realized Victor was still glaring at him, and tried belatedly to school his features into a face of extreme shame and repentance.

 

“Tiredness is not an excuse,” Victor said loudly, and Izotz squashed the sudden urge to roll his eyes. He could probably recite this speech backwards; he had heard it so many times. “We all have a duty here, and that is to give our very being to this world and keep it safe.” Izotz began to mouth the words along with him. “We have been specially chosen to protect this world, to give our very lives to this world if so called to, and to dishonor your world so much as to fall asleep…young man, are you mocking me?!” Izotz's mouth shut at this new edition to Victor's speech, and glanced sheepishly up at the older man, whose face had turned to such a bright red, that Izotz was afraid his head might burst.

 

“I'm sorry, sir,” he said, but it did nothing to calm the irate man, and Izotz took a step back as the fuming Victor stalked forward. The warmth on Izotz's back became a burning warning, and he looked worriedly at Victor's raised staff. The staff jabbed at him, aiming for his forehead, and Izotz threw himself to the left, the wind from the staff whistling through his hair. “Ack!”

 

“Wretched boy!” Victor snarled, drawing his staff back - only to find half of it consumed by fire. “Curse it!” he yelled, throwing the ashy remains of his staff into the fire and advancing towards Izotz. “That was my best staff!”

 

“He has more than one?” Izotz thought, trying to remember if the door was to his left or to his right. Out loud, he said, “I truly am sorry, sir! Is there any way I can repay you for it? Extra hours? I'll scrub the floor! I'll patrol the outside of the shrine!” Victor stopped, and tapped his chin thoughtfully.

 

“I could use a new personal assistant,” he said, giving Izotz an appraising glance. Izotz had the slight feeling this was what a cattle for auction felt like. He tried not to cringe at the thought of serving Victor for hours on end. Suddenly, being poked and prodded by a staff didn't seem so bad…

 

“My duty is to this shrine and its priest.” Izotz's voice was honey-sweet, and he played towards Victor's pride, even though what Izotz only wanted to do was to retch, long and hard. Victor smiled portentously at him.

 

“Well, I am grateful that you are not the lost cause I had thought you to be, Izotz,” Victor began, but as he took a deep breath, readying for a long speech of how important he was, two long howls stopped him dead, and Izotz's skin prickled uneasily on the back of his neck and on his arms. “What was that?” Victor asked quietly, looking surreptitiously behind him at the door. Izotz shrugged, refraining from answering with the obvious `wolves.'

 

From behind the door, scuffling noises and muttered voices, some echoing Victor's question, some answering, “Damned wolves. They haven't shut up for days now!” overpowered the gale outside for a short time. The scuffling turned to sharp tramps as the patrolmen descend the wooden stairs leading up to the main door of the shrine, and all was silent as they searched the ground for the stray wolves. Izotz knew that most, if not all of the men were armed with spears or arrows, and that all of them were masters of their weapons. New fur blankets might find their way to families tomorrow morning if the patrol found the source of the howling.

 

“Nothing to worry about, “Victor said, a little breathily, his hand fluttering near his chest. Outside, all was still silent.

 

The flame crackled, and both Victor and Izotz jumped, blaming each other through their eyes.

 

“I guess,” Izotz answered, worrying a loose thread of his sleeve.

 

“Stop that.”

 

The silence loomed outside.

 

And then the screaming began.

 

It started as one yelp of surprise, and then rose into a scream of terror that was cut off entirely too soon into a liquid gurgle. Raised voices shouted, and then the shouts turned to screams of their own, screams of fear and of pain, and Victor and Izotz stared at the closed door in horror, dumbstruck and frozen, nearly uncomprehending all that was happening behind the door until it rattled on its hinges, and the sound of something sliding damply down its surface reached their ears. Izotz gagged, clamping a hand over his mouth, trying desperately to stop the heaving of his stomach, and Victor, trembling, stepped closer to the door.

 

The silence was back, this time more oppressive and malignant.

 

Victor took another step forward, and with trembling hands, fumbled with the handle, finally pulling it open after what seemed like eons, and stepped outside, giving Izotz one last look as he pulled the door closed behind him. Izotz shivered uncontrollably.

 

“Dear heavens above save us all.” Victor's voice was muffled through the door, but that did nothing to mask the abject terror in his voice. “What happened here? What could have…what is that? Stay back! Stay back!” There was soft thud as Victor pressed himself against the door. Izotz's hands clenched. “Stay away from me! What do you want! No, get away! …Oh thank the stars you're here! Wait, what are you doing? What are you doing? Call them off! Call them off! No!” Nails skittered across the wooden floor, and Victor stopped in mid-scream.

 

Quivering from head to toe, Izotz crossed the remaining distance between himself and the door, his path crooked and weaving like a drunkard's, and hesitated at the door, his hands shaking in tremors that ran up his arm and to his skull. Taking a deep breath, he tried to steel himself for whatever lay beyond it, but failed at the last moment, closing his eyes as he pulled opened the door. Cold wind gushed in, nearly dousing the great pyre in the far side of the room, and something fell into the doorway, landing wetly at his feet. Izotz gagged again and took another deep, albeit shaky, breath before opening his eyes.

 

Victor's face stared up into his, eyes unfocused, throat torn apart.

 

Izotz stared down at him, eyes widening in something completely beyond horror, throat working convulsively. He took a step back, found his knees could no longer support his weight, and crashed to the ground, cowering as something else padded into the room. It stood over him and growled, and when he opened his eyes, he stared into the blazing gold eyes of a pure black wolf.

 

He nearly screamed, and the wolf closed its jaws over his throat, its teeth sinking into skin. Izotz didn't even bother trying to struggle, and just closed his eyes again, waiting for the end.

 

“Kali, let him go.” A new voice spoke, this one a sultry tenor, and the wolf released his throat, blood running from the holes left behind. Izotz sat up and scrambled away, one hand clutching his torn skin, and looked up to see his god standing in the doorway, hair covered in snow, and nearly naked.

 

“Okay,” a little hysterical voice in his head provided. “That's unexpected.” It was probably not the best of thoughts to have at such a time, seeing as two wolves were prowling around him, but it was the best his shell-shocked brain could come up with at the moment. He glanced around, and then looked back to Sora, only find Sora's face inches from his own. “Gah! Oh, my…”

 

“Where is the Keyhole?” Sora asked, staring with electric blue eyes into Izotz's murky green eyes.

 

“I don't know,” he answered at length, trying to inch away discreetly. Sora's hand shot up and wrapped around his throat, applying small pressure. It was enough to make Izotz gasp for breath.

 

“The Keyhole,” Sora said again, pointedly, applying more pressure.

 

“I don't know!” His eyes were beginning to roll back.

 

“Tell me where the Keyhole is!” In desperation, Izotz glanced at the flames that roared in the massive pyre, and Sora let him go, air rushing into his starved lungs, leaving all too soon and making him want more. “See, that wasn't so bad.”

 

“What…what are you doing?” Izotz gasped, blood soaking his shirt. Sora smiled down at him.

 

“It's a secret,” he whispered, and once again, his hand wrapped around Izotz's throat, and with a loud crack, he snapped Izotz's neck. The body fell, head at an impossible angle, and Sora left him there, more interested in the flaming Keyhole than that nuisance of a boy.

 

Kali and Argyros circled the pyre, sniffing experimentally at its base, making soft whimpering noises as Sora came closer. They were agitated; the Keyhole was well protected with similar enchantments to the ones that had bound them, and as soon as Sora called them away from it, they slunk away with their tails between their legs and heads bowed.

 

Sora studied the pyre, walking along its circumference, examining it from its base to its rim, just beneath the roaring flames. There was no sign of a Keyhole. He frowned and glared at Izotz's body, wondering if he had been lied to.

 

“Where is it?” he muttered to himself, crossing his arms across his bare chest, staring into the flames. He blinked, and something glinted in its center, iridescent in the midst of crackling yellow and red. He brought his face close to the edge of the fire, eyes watering from the intense heat, skin dangerously close to blistering. Whatever it was flashed again, and this time, Sora was able to make out the thin outline of a keyhole, winking tantalizing at him before disappearing again.

 

“Of course, it's in the fire,” he thought, and the small part of him that was still his own and not fully tainted by darkness cowered back, afraid of what the darkness urged his body to do. Farther that little piece of him moved away from the darkness, until it reached the part of his mind that still believed his friends were alive, and gratefully, it sunk in with those warm thoughts, burying itself in memories of happier times.

 

Sora straightened, staring at the fire for a long while, the light reflecting in his eyes. He hesitated for a moment, fingers fidgeting, biting his lower lip hard before raising his hands and plunging them deep within the flames. He grimaced but did not scream out, though the skin on his hands hissed in pain and the acrid smell of burned flesh rose steadily in the air. Kali and Argyros screamed for him, their high-pitched howls echoing off the walls and out the door, carried throughout Icy Creek by the wind.

 

Panting, Sora pushed his hands deeper into the flames, reaching desperately for the Keyhole. His hand closed around a coal, and his entire body shook as the pain traveled up his ruined arms to his brain, nearly falling unconscious to the floor if it hadn't been for the sheer power of the darkness holding him up, though it did nothing for the excruciating pain he was under. Mouth open and head titled back, he screamed silently, and it was then that he felt something wonderfully cool brush against his fingertips. He grabbed at it, crying in relief as his fingers outlined the cold Keyhole, and using the last bit of his strength, he pushed snakes of darkness through the Keyhole and out into the empty space between the worlds.

 

Each snake of darkness split into many smaller wisps and shot out, creating rips in the void between worlds, leaving dark tracks against the colorful trajectories. These wisps were not strong enough to breach the defenses of the worlds' Keyholes, but they were powerful enough force entryways into the worlds themselves, leaving cankerous wounds behind to fester, unable to heal. One such wisp traveled to the desert world of Kingdom Hearts, its distinctive heart shaped form setting it apart from all the other worlds around it, and wriggling around, the darkness felt a weak spot in the already-injured world's defenses and pushed hard against it. The thin barrier broke, and a vacuum formed, creating the swirling black vortex that had perplexed Winter, Hotaru, and Xenos, and whose powerful suction had taken many Chasers and deposited them in other worlds.

 

Glowing circles appeared at random intervals in every world touched by darkness, the ground soft and spongy beneath the multicolored web. One appeared next to Sora's feet in Icy Creek, and Argyros growled menacingly at it, hackles rising.

 

The largest snake of darkness did not leave Icy Creek, but traveled down to the heart of the world, wrapping around it and squeezing like an enormous python would do to its prey. The heart sagged, beating erratically in panic, and then shattered, the darkness falling in on itself to take the heart's place as a moldering and viscous shape shifting blob.

 

Immediately, the changes to Icy Creek were noticeable. The snow changed from pure white to a dingy gray. Limbs of trees blackened and their trunks sagged, roots popping through the frozen ground like bony fingers reaching for the night sky. Underneath the snow, the grass wilted and turned brown, and in preserved flowerbeds, petals drooped, their colors muted and washed-out. The tepid little stream from which the world was named turned from clear to inky black, and became a raging river, flooding fields and houses that were too close to it, sweeping away their existence. The moons were the only things left bright and untouched by darkness, and surrounded by tiny pinpricks of starlight, it seemed as if the moons were crying over the desecration of their world.

 

But the most startling change was also perhaps the smallest of the changes. Engraved upon the stones that the temple was built upon, was the name of the world, carved in proud bold letters that proclaimed Icy Creek to all those who stood before it. Now, though, the letters shimmered and were struck down, as if smote by some invisible hand, and new letters, written Gothic print, took their place, scratching out the new name for this now desolate world.

 

Back inside the temple, as Sora withdrew his mangled hands from the fire, the flames turned deep purple, and he fell, drained, to the floor, the wolves nuzzling him gently. And on the stones outside, in the same dark purple of the flames, Besmirched Sepulcher blazoned out into the night.

*~[--]----------_--_-

 

The sun was already high in the gray sky, shining weakly on the bleak landscape, when Sora finally awoke. He moaned, face plastered to the hard wooden floor, and his eyes fluttered, the clear blue now free of swirling patterns of black. Hazy stabs of pain worked their way up his arms to his sleep-numbed brain, and he groaned, his hair shifting slightly as he tried to bury his face into the floor, only to find that the floor was heavily resistant to his efforts, and that all he was doing was adding a headache to the already growing puzzling pain in his arms. With an indignant snuffle, he raised his head and opened his eyes fully.

 

The yellow eyes of a great silver wolf met his, and the two stared at each other, neither one blinking.

 

And then Sora yelled, eyes wide, pushing all his weight onto his hands in a desperate attempt to get away from the wolf, but as soon as the weight was transferred, his arms refused to hold him up, and he crashed back to the ground with bruising force, the dim pain in his arms escalating to excruciating torture that ravaged his nerves and made beads of sweat pop out on his forehead, despite the chill pervading throughout the room. Gasping, he rolled over onto his back, hissing as his arms peeled off the floor, and held his hands in midair, elbows resting against his chest, teeth gritted and eyes shut tight against the pain.

 

Now he recognized the pain lancing through his arms. There had been times, had been accidents, where he had been burned before, but it had never caused this kind of agony before. And, of course, there had been remedies then as well. This time, he had nothing.

 

Panting and shuddering, Sora opened one eye to just a mere sliver.

 

Black swam into focus. For a second, Sora thought he had gone blind. And then realization hit him. Bile rose to his throat, and he began to swallow convulsively, eyes widening alarmingly.

 

The area from his fingertips down to his elbows on both limbs did not even resemble the human arms they had once been. Instead, they were shrunken, misshapen, grotesque parodies of arms, the skin charred black and shriveled, his fingers curling inward to his palm, the skin too tight to allow them to straighten properly. Small patches of white dotted his fingers here and there, and with mounting horror, Sora realized that the skin there had been burned off completely, and that the patches of white were, in actuality, his bones showing through his ruined flesh.

 

He began to scream then, a piercing sound that sent crows flying from tree branches and made the two wolves pacing next to him flatten their ears in pain. He ran out of breath, inhaled quickly, and screamed again. And again. And again.

 

“Looks like somebody woke up.” The mini-Sora was back. Sora kept screaming. “Oh, snap out of it!” Sora continued, the scream growing more frantic. “I said, stop!” At that, the mini-Sora sent a jab of darkness at Sora's heart, and it struck his heart like a dagger, causing enough of a shock to make Sora stop screaming. “Well, finally!”

 

“Wha…” Sora's throat felt as if it was on fire, and it hurt to force words out.

 

“Oh, shut up,” the mini-Sora said bad-temperedly. “You should really fix those arms before another catastrophe happens, and you do something else to them.”

 

“Can't,” moaned Sora, weakly shaking his head, tears escaping the corners of his eyes at the unbearable pain.

 

“What do you mean, `can't'?” the mini-Sora snapped.

 

“No…Keyblade.”

 

“Idiot. You don't need your Keyblade to fix them.” Sora shook his head again.

 

“Need the Keyblade,” he croaked. The mini-Sora sighed, rolling its eyes.

 

“No, you don't. Now get up, and I'll show you how to fix them.” Sora shook his head again. “If you don't get up, you won't find your Keyblade.” Sora stayed where he was, and the mini-Sora sighed again. “Okay, fine, you don't need to get up. Do you see the Salvus Punctum next to you?

 

“The what?” Sora asked, blinking past the insistent throbbing of his arms. He tried not to look at them, lest he start screaming again.

 

“The glowing circle on the floor, just above your head,” the mini-Sora explained, nodding its head upwards. Sora craned his neck as far as it would go to the side, and managed to catch the glimmer of something iridescent just above him.

 

“Yeah, I see it.”

 

“Roll over and put your arms in it.”

 

“What is it?” His throat hurt less now, and he was able to think clearer than before, though his voice still croaked.

 

“Like I said, it's a Salvus Punctum. I'll explain more after you put you hands in the damned thing.” Sora obliged, correctly judging that the best thing to do at the moment was to listen to the little voice in his head (though at any other time, Sora might have questioned the sanity of doing this), rolling over slowly and stretching his arms out so that they broke the thin barrier around the glowing circle, grimacing as his charred flesh stretched to its breaking point. His grimace turned into a smile of relief as delicious coolness washed over his crippled arms, bathing them in welcome numbness. He sighed, head drooping.

 

“That's a relief,” he said to the floor.

 

“What, you've never been burned before?” the mini-Sora mocked him.

 

“No,” Sora said, lifting his head up, “there was this one time when I ran into a wall of fire, and then there was this other time when me, Donald, and Goofy were swallowed by a whale - I think its name was Monstro - and we had to poke around in its stomach. I ruined the bottom of my shoes and had to have Aerith fix them for me.

 

“You were swallowed by a whale…”

 

“Yeah, Donald was piloting the Gummi Ship, and the whale just showed up and swallowed us.”

 

“What was a whale doing in Gummi Space?” Sora stopped and blinked.

 

“I don't know.” Stumped, Sora frowned, trying to think of a reasonable explanation for why a whale was able to survive in Gummi Space. He couldn't find one, and he changed the subject rather quickly to get away from the puzzling question. “You said you'd explain what this thing is.”

 

“You've never seen a Salvus Punctum before?” the mini-Sora asked, exasperated.

 

“Well, now I recognize it,” Sora started, “but we never called them Sal…what you called it,” he finished, giving upon pronouncing its name. “We just knew it could take us to the Gummi Ships or to other worlds. And…it healed our wounds, too…” he added on, suddenly feeling very, very, small and very stupid.

 

“Pity you didn't realize that sooner,” the mini-Sora drawled, smirking to itself.

 

“Hey! I was in pain!” Sora snapped, the feelings of stupidity drowned out by feelings of belittlement. “I wasn't thinking straight!”

 

“Of course you weren't,” the mini-Sora said consolingly, as if it were talking to a child. “And I suppose you never thought to ask what it was, either.” Sora shook his head, cheeks tinged red. “Now you know it's a Salvus Punctum. And before you ask,” the mini-Sora said as Sora opened his mouth, “you can call it a corrosion of sorts.”

 

“A corrosion?” he echoed, thoroughly confused.

 

“Yes, a corrosion of magic.” Sora nearly jerked his arms out of the Salvus Punctum. “You keep those in there!” the mini-Sora yelled, and Sora stopped fidgeting, chastised. It continued, “Fire, Water, Thunder, Time, Wind, Healing, Gravity, Summoning, and Deflection all condensed together in one spot creates the Salvus Punctum, and the surplus of magic corrodes the world's defenses in that place, making travel from world to world simple and painless. That's why when you step in one, you're able to move to a different world or enter a Gummi Ship.”

 

“And the magic also heals wounds?” Sora asked. “But if it's corrosive…”

 

“It heals wounds because Cure magic is there,” the mini-Sora answered. “And it's only harmful if you stand in one for years. But all magic is corrosive, anyway, so it's not like you can avoid it.”

 

“All magic is corrosive?” Worry was creeping into his voice. “I used magic for two years, but I feel fine.” The worry was still there, flavored with apprehension.

 

“It depends on how much magic you use, and how often you use it,” the mini-Sora said flippantly. “Usually it's only magicians or wizards that it affects out-right and noticeably.”

 

“Donald was the Court Wizard at Disney Castle,” Sora said softly. “His voice always sounded strange.”

 

“See? There you go.” The mini-Sora did not bother to mention that Sora's use of magic had also caused irreparable damage to himself as well. The only difference was that Sora's corrosion was in a place where it could not be seen. No, the wound had taken its toll on something that was barely even tangible, and without the aid of those who truly understood the malady, it had festered and feasted, eating away unstoppably until barely even a sliver of Sora's conscious was left. And even now, that emaciated web was starting to collapse, strand by strand, and only the mini-Sora knew, and it was not saying a word.

 

*~[--]----------_--_-

 

EDITED! CHAPTER 6 HAS BEEN ADDED TO! GO READ THE ENTIRE HORROR!!!!1111oneoneone

 

Yeah, so, anyway, I gave up on the Superbowl. I had enough of the whole, “SAC HIM! SAC HIM! HIT HIM IN THE KNEE! CREAM HIM!” so I just went upstairs and typed. Hate football…

 

So, yeah, I'm going to see The Messengers as soon as possible, and maybe sneak in Hannibal Rising, if I can. Pan's Labyrinth is on the list too, but I'm a little hesitant to see that one, with the whole `death by glass bottle' thing. Yeah, glass bottles scare me in ways cannibals cannot. I should shut up now…

 

And finally, liany invited me to this Hi5 thing, so now I have an account. I'll post the link on my profile sooner or later, in case anybody wants to go check it out. They made me put in a picture, and the only one I had (that I felt was good enough) was from Halloween, and it's such a bloody horrible picture its fetchin' hilarious (I did the `take a picture in front of the mirror no-no'). Brownie points to anybody who can actually figure out who I was supposed to be.

 

Don't forget, read and review!