Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

The Night	By : mewsomniac Category: Kingdom Hearts > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1695 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: NO profit is being made off this work. Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy, and Disney belong to their rightful owners, and I do not claim ANY ownership over their properties. FULL DISCLAIMER BELOW.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
The Night
Chapter XIII: The Sharpest Lives
The 2000s
            Squall never knew his mother.
            At least… he never had a chance to.
            He did know that she was a skilled florist, her heart was full of love, and that she died giving birth to him. Sometimes, in his dreams, he would see his mother’s face, hear her voice, her gentle assurances… but that’s all he had of her. He always asked about her, but it seemed like the more he asked, the fewer answers he actually got.
            He knew she was a gentle, yet firm, person; always taking on greater responsibilities than were worth her time. He knew she had long flowing hair which was soft like the grassy hills of Midgar or the finest silks of Bikanel.
            He also knew the Leonhart name was haunted, as his grandmother (despite her growing dementia) would often lament the stories to him in her native Romani tongue. Once the family crest was changed, the predecessors of the name became haunted by a specter. While at first many of them thought it was a misplaced punishment for the horrible fate of their ancestors, they came to find the spirit was more protective than anything. The Ghost of the Leonharts was more like a guardian angel.
            Upon learning so much about this supposed guardian angel, Squall came to loathe it. What kind of cruel phantom would allow his mother to die before she was truly able to know her only son?
            His grandmother took ill and the young boy spent many years bouncing between the care of his family, absorbing their ghost stories and loathing them. None of them knew his father; many of them didn’t even know Raine was pregnant until she was already gone. She didn’t leave any way to contact his father either, so they all simply assumed she’d given up on the mystery man.
            Squall couldn’t stand the gall of his supposed family being so confident in their conclusions. One day, he’d be old enough to go out on his own and track down his father in demand of answers. This, despite his young age, he knew for certain. This one goal kept him going despite everything else.
            And where was the Ghost then? Still nowhere to be found. He’d gotten into his fair share of trouble in his youth, pushing his limits to draw the phantom out. He’d get into deadly scrapes, violent encounters, serious accidents… still, no guardian.
            One day, Squall’s hatred for the Ghost reached an angry crescendo, and in a boyish rage he did the unthinkable.
           If the ghost doesn’t come to me on it’s own, He thought, I’ll force it to.
            His first idea was to jump off a building, but he doubted even a specter could save him from such a gruesome fate. Oddly enough, the less brutal option to him was standing on a train track. At the last possible second he could leap away from the platform, narrowly missing the train. He waited at the nearest station, jittery with nervousness and fury all at once. When the train came warbling along in the distance, much to the horror of onlookers, he sprang onto the track.
            Of course, he realized his foolishness as soon as his feet touched down.
            The walls were too high for him to crawl out of, and when he went to make an exit his pant leg snagged on a jagged piece of metal. People were screaming at him, but he could barely hear them over the sound of the train barreling at him: brakes squealing, but completely unable to stop.
            He hoped wherever he went, he’d see his mom.
            But as he closed his eyes, a force unlike anything else ripped him from the ground. The wind was knocked out of him when his back hit something cold and firm. When he blinked back into reality, he was on the safety of the platform, looking up at the crowd and his savior.
            The man standing over him had piercing blue eyes, and wore the old crest of their family, just like the stories said.
            “Do not,” The Ghost hissed at him, piercing him down to his very soul, “ever do something like that again. ”
            Subconsciously, Squall committed to the instruction.
            “Why did you let her die?” The boy demanded.
            The pain of guilt washed over the Ghost’s features, and he knelt down to the boy. “I couldn’t save her. Nobody could. I’m sorry. I can’t ever ask for your forgiveness, but...” Their gazes locked, and Squall’s body froze as if taken by a windchill. “Forget this.” The phantom whispered, blue eyes twirling in a hypnotic spiral.
           No. I will remember, Squall said to himself, I won’t let myself forget.
            He focused everything he had into remembering the face of the Ghost… but the memory drifted suddenly, and even looking at the phantoms face distorted it in a way he couldn’t describe. Like someone used crayons to fill in the visage on a digital photo. Suddenly, he didn’t know why he was sitting on the local train platform with a dozen worried patrons clamoring over him. A fog had fallen over his mind, one that he recalled hearing about in stories from his family.
           The phantom…?
            Squall noticed a man easing his way through the crowd, and something about him seemed distantly familiar.
            “My Goddess. It really is you. Squall…”
            Squall responded, “How do you know my name?”
            The man pulled out his wallet and extracted a photograph of his mother.
            “A man brought me here to find you. My name is Laguna Loire. Your mother was my wife. You are my son.”
            Squall didn’t know his mother, but he also didn’t know that the Ghost of the Leonhart family did.
            The Ghost followed Squall’s grandmother from Romania to Dusk City, and watched over Raine as she grew up in the countryside. He protected her like many of the the other Leonharts, always willing their memories of the event away afterward. Her death came all too suddenly for him, and when he found out about it years later, he made it a personal quest to find the father of her child. He may not have been able to save Raine, but he was going to do his damndest to save Squall.
            Upon being reunited with his father, Squall realized that if this was the Ghost’s doing than maybe the Ghost wasn’t so bad after all. Not long after, this belief was solidified when he received a long, detailed letter about his mother’s life. For the very first time, between the letter and his father, he felt like he truly new Raine. He chose to keep the Leonhart name right then, but decided that one day he would forge a new identity for himself.
            Moreover, much to the Ghost’s near-endless annoyance, Squall would continue to live dangerously. What’s there to lose with a guardian angel on your side?
May 30, 2026
           The rain came down around Roxas, and he found it ceaselessly annoying that it only seemed to do so when he didn’t have his cloak.
           Fortunately, the walk from the tram to the bar was short enough that it was only a mere jaunt before he was at his destination. This bar was the first of a stretch of pubs and restaurants lining this long street; dubbed by the locals as the Bubbly Mile. It was the city’s favorite bar crawl, and although today’s weather was atrocious, the mile was certainly still bubbling with action.
           XIII showed his fancy new ID, which he’d just gotten officially printed that day, to the bouncer. Inside, amongst the chattering crowd, Roxas could plainly spot the head of Axel poking up through the masses. He beelined toward the figure and came upon his roommates, Riku, Kairi, and his boyfriend, just like what was promised.
           “What?! No, here, let me spell it out for you…” Axel waves a finger in the air, “B-L-O—oh! Hey Roxas!”
           Once Sora notices Roxas, he swoops over to give him a welcoming peck on the lips.
           After greeting them XIII asks, “What are we celebrating?”
           “Seriously?” Sora responds, giving him a facetious look.
           “HAPPY BIRTHDAY ROXAS!” Demyx exclaims suddenly, wedging himself into the middle of the group. “I can’t believe you’re finally 21.”
           Sheepishly, Roxas ducks his face down. “You guys… you really didn’t have to have to do this for me. It’s just my birthday. It’s no big deal.”
           “Nonsense!” Axel exclaims, holding up a drink. “Here’s to Roxas, for being alive! Blessed be!”
           Everyone else shouts “Blessed be!” before taking a drink.
           A voice comes from behind him, “I’ll drink to that.”
           The blond turns to see the smiling faces of his brother, Leon, and Tifa.
           “You guys… what are you doing here?”
           Leon simply nods at him as Tifa leans to give him a hug.
           “You think we’d miss this for anything in the world?” She asks.
           Once she pulls away, he and Cloud share an embrace. Cloud whispers, just barely audible over the bar’s commotion, “I never thought I’d see this day.” And Roxas can feel tears in his eyes.
           “Me either.” They pull apart, smiling. “Hey, how can I toast if I don’t have a drink?”
           “Bartender!” Sora shouts, “Give me a shot to remember!”
           Roxas shows the bartender his ID, “And you can take all the pain away from me.”
           In no more than a moment, there are shots lined up for each of them on the bar. They clink glasses, shout “Blessed be!”, tap the counter, and down the burning liquid.
           Axel whistles, “Oh man, something tells me it’s gonna be a long night. So as I was saying, Sora... You’re a vampire. Know where I can get some good yayo?”
           A wide grin splits the brunet’s face, “Axel, my friend, let’s play a game I like to call ‘‘Scuse Me.’”
           They wander off and Cloud goes to order more drinks. Roxas notices that Demyx and Namine have gotten to talking with Leon, Tifa, Riku, and Kairi.
           For the first time in forever, Roxas feels like he’s made it back to some kind of ‘normal’. Or at least... whatever this feeling of contentedness can be described as. His life, over the course of a couple years, has done a complete flip, and he loves it. He has new friends, a new family, a new purpose… this is was dreams are made of. This moment right here, right now... is true bliss.
           Cloud approaches him while carrying two beers, then hands one to him.
           “You know,” Cloud takes a sip from his glass, then continues, “I feel... lighter. Maybe I’ve lost weight.”
           Roxas takes a long gulp of his own drink before responding, “You know… me too.”
           The rest of the night, they powered all the way down the Bubbly Mile. Their goal was to hit every single bar and have at least one drink or one shot. Between stops, they kept their buzz going with discreet snorts of cocaine. Eventually Roxas had tried almost every specialty beer on tap or house mixed drink that the Mile has to offer. Eventually Tifa and Namine dipped out, so it quickly became a couple’s night for the remaining eight of them.
           That’s when Sora suggested the molly. He’d been saving a set of pressed pills for tonight: Black Chocobos is what they were called, and he had exactly eight.
           “It’s destiny!” He proclaimed, and they had to agree based on that and their mutual obsessions with the giant birds.
           They were on a bender, and it showed. They rationed the pills into quarters to keep the night going as long as possible. They spent the night dancing, hit a couple clubs, ran in the rain, loitered on the trams, and talked nonstop the whole time. Roxas came to quickly adore Kairi’s company, as once he got to know her she shed her aloof personality and became lively and somewhat eccentric. Although Riku’s personality remained mostly unchanged, he and Roxas still had some very deep and interesting conversations. They discussed their interests, theories on science, and Riku even shared some of the adventures he’s had over his unlife. When Roxas asked why Riku was so bold to lick XIII’s face that one night, the lycanthrope gave him a suspiciously complex non-answer that left the blond wondering.
           Any time they were idle, Demyx would start scratching Axel’s head to the tune of “oooohs” and “aaaahs.” Sora and Roxas adored seeing Leon open up a few times to Cloud, getting all gushy to him every now and then. In the back of his mind, Roxas was worried that Leon would start questioning Sora in his state of inebriation, but the two shared a look of understanding and it seemed to help clear the air. Perhaps whatever Leon had to say would come eventually, but today was not that day.
           It was the greatest night of his life.
           Even when the night was over, even when he and Sora crashed on the couch fully clothed, even when he was puking his brains out the next morning… he was completely filled with bliss.
July 14th, 2026
           The man watches the fog collecting ahead, grimacing at the shift in weather. The summer in Duck City was always thick with moisture: the wet kind of heat that sticks to your skin, rolling into the wet winters that stick to your bones. Still, he creeps along. It won't be long until he reaches home to his dehumidifier and air conditioning, then perhaps the air would stop taunting him… hopefully.
           A crow croons above and he eyes it warily. Lately it seemed like there was a surplus of them wherever he goes. Perhaps the city is amidst an infestation; or maybe now that he noticed one, he can’t unsee the rest of them.
           He didn’t know it was neither.
           He turns down a small street and observes it is decidedly empty, which is unnatural for the time of day. He takes a sniff of the air: brimstone?
           Peering down the road through the fog, he can see flames distantly licking around the edges of the road… but other than the fact there’s fire, something about them seems off. Three figures drift through the mist toward him, and although he would have loved to fight, he knows it’s wiser to run. He turns to make a break for it when a wall of green flame erupts before him. He twists around to see the three figures standing a safe distance away and automatically recognizes the coat on the shortest one.
           “Fucking Organization,” He snarls, “Figured it was only a matter of time…”
           One of the men standing beside the Nobody steps forward, and it’s difficult for him to get a read on any of them because of the burning smell.
           “Aldric Price,” The guy says, “You're under arrest for unlawful distribution of narcotics, six counts of bodily harm, voluntary manslaughter, murder, and tampering with narcotics. Under the rule of Dusk City, we have the right to extract your DNA and other evidence to be used against you in court.”
           Finally, Aldric catches a whiff of the one who stepped forward: a vampire. The rage builds up inside of him, and he feels his skin bristling.
           The vampire says, “You’ve been selling bunk shit to vampires for a while now. You’ve even killed a couple people in the process.”
           Suddenly, Aldric shouts, “DEATH TO ALL VAMPIRES!” before literally leaping from his skin.
           His werewolf form comes barreling at Sora, and Roxas is about to force-fling him away when a jacket and backpack hit the ground.
           The figure next to them darts forward, shifting into his own werewolf form and bounding ahead like a silver bullet. The lycanthropes clash, snarling teeth and claws flying all over the place. A gush of blood sprays in a fan across the ground, and Roxas can’t help but jump back; watching in anxious terror as Riku practically flings the other werewolf around like a life-sized chew toy. He’s seen Werewolf-Riku in action before, but never on this level. Sora looks on in mild amusement, clearly accustomed the sight.
           Mere seconds later, it’s over. Aldric falls the the ground and, in his unconscious state, shifts back to human form. Backing away, and just barely panting, Riku also shifts back. He has a few deep cuts, but nothing especially serious. After dispelling the flames, Sora is about to offer to heal the lycanthrope when Roxas rushes forward and quickly casts a healing spell; prattling on about how amazing the fight was. Riku shrugs it off as no big deal, and won't look Roxas in the eyes as he’s complimented.
           They heal Aldric and Roxas opens a portal for the criminal: his limp body falling into the abyss where a silver cell awaits him. Another job is done.
           “Thanks for coming along with us again, Riku.” Roxas says, “I thought Sora and I were doing pretty well on our own, but you’ve been seriously helping us kick ass.”
           Riku picks up his backpack and reaches inside for an undamaged shirt. On patrols, Riku usually kept a couple extra changes of clothes at the ready just in case he needed to shapeshift. Fortunately, he owned some ergonomic pants and underwear by the name of Lycan-Wear (“Designed by Lycanthropes for Lycanthopes” is the company’s slogan) that resisted tearing by stretching to fit. Shirts, however, were still being fine-tuned, so Riku typically just bought massive packs of cheap black ones and kept a few handy on nights like this.
           “It’s no problem, really.” The taller man replaces his ripped shirt, and Roxas politely looks away. “I’ve been itching for a fight. It’s actually been a lot of fun helping you both.”
           “At this point,” Sora chimes in, “We have a two more arrests than that Larxene chick and Marluxia had around this time.”
           Roxas shudders. “I… am both happy and terrified about this. But let’s keep going. We’ve still got a couple more calls.”
           Riku says, “I thought those weren’t even in our assigned district.”
           Sora smirks at him, knowingly. “Technically they aren’t… unless we can beat everyone else there.”
           And so they go, leaping into the night sky. Although Roxas is happy about their recent progress, he just couldn’t shake thoughts of the Necromancer chewing his brain. It had been months since they’d gotten a lead, and even then it had dried up right away. All the work they were doing was a great distraction, and excellent practice… but he couldn’t help the anxiety that continued to sit in the corners of his mind, taunting him. He couldn’t shake the sensation that they were sitting right on top of something massive, and it was driving him insane.
           He decides he will push these creeping thoughts away for just one more night. Just one more night of practice, and then they will find their next lead.
December 14th, 2026
           The bass rumbles, and with it the crowd. The air is thick with musk and breath as bodies shudder along in the cramped space. The lights, a maroon hue, make the place feel raw and untamed… just how she likes it.
           Her sight meticulously scans the crowd, waning back and forth across sensible targets. Who’s too drunk? Who’s too comfortable? Who’s naive enough? In these situations, she has to time it just right… the night was a little too young for her to pounce just yet.
           She decides to get herself a drink, as in her experience an attractive lady carrying a glass is exponentially more approachable than one without. She slithers up to the bar, a makeshift little setup cobbled together in the corner of this basement rave, and orders something neon. Standing at the bar is a young guy, just the way she likes them: blond haired and slim-built. His heartbeat says he’s human, but there’s something special about his crystalline eyes that she can’t place. He’s gazing curiously at the crowd, transfixed by his own thoughts, and the light around him seems to shift as if compelled by magick.
           He looks like a positively tasty treat.
           Taking a dainty sip of her drink, she leers over to him, whispering in his ear, “Is this your first rave?”
           This startles him a little, and when he finds the source of her voice, he replies, “I’ve been to clubs before but this is pretty different.” He leans a little closer, “Do you know where I can find… you know.”
           She grins widely, her mental target locking. “Oh, I know . Come with me.”
           Abandoning her drink at the bar, she takes him by the hand and leads him out of the crowd. She notices there’s something off about the way his skin feels, more leathery than soft, but it’s too dark and crowded for her to see why. It doesn’t matter. This will be absolute cake. The ones looking for drugs are always easy; too eager and hopeful for their own good. They slip through the mass of bodies, up out of the basement, into the chilled night air.
           He asks, “Where are we going?”
           Smiling back at him, she dodges the question with her own: “Am I your type, sweetie? Something tells me you really like brunettes.”
           He laughs, in a genuine and hearty manner. “You have no idea.”
           “Almost there,” She says, leading him to a spot in some back alley she scoped out earlier into the night. Her plan for attack is already laid out in her head.
           He stops just then, bringing her excited gait to a halt with him.
           “Um, it’s this way—”
           But when she looks to her destination, there’s a man with brown hair and blue eyes standing there. His heartbeat says he’s a vampire. Her hand is released, and she looks back at the blond to see a cloak fading into existence around his body: black as the night. The Organization.
           Her fangs pop out and she hisses, springing at him in an attack—then the side of her body slams against the wall, cracking a bone in her shoulder. She howls in pain, not sure how either of the men could have thrown her without moving an inch.
            “Carmela Vaughn, you’re under arrest for several serial murders and now an attempted assault of a Nobody. Under the rule of Dusk City, we have the right to extract your DNA and other evidence to be used against you in court.” She attempts to pounce at him again, the force so strong in her leap that it cracks the cement below her… but she simply hangs in the air, held by an invisible source like a puppet on strings. “...make that two assaults, and resisting arrest.”
           The blond lobs something into the air: it looks like a ball, but it’s glowing. Before she has a moment to process the situation, the ball explodes into a massive flash of light. She feels the energy being sucked out of her, as if a vacuum has opened up inside her. He goes limp in the air, limbs suddenly heavy as brick and eyelids just as much so. Carefully, Roxas lowers her into a portal.
           “Nicely done,” Sora says, coming up to him. “It’s almost been too easy making arrests lately.” Roxas stares into the space where the portal once was, unresponsive, and Sora furrows his brows at the blond. “...Rox? You alive in there?”
           XIII nods a little disingenuously, as if half-listening to the vampire. “Hm. I suppose. Was there another call, today?”
           “I think that’s it for now—”
           “Then I’ve gotta head back to HQ. There’s something I need to do.”
           Before Sora can say anything else, Roxas gives him a kiss and force-flings away.
           It seems lately that Roxas has been stuck in his own head, and it was worrying Sora. They still didn’t have any progress on finding the Necromancer, and it was very obviously taking a mental toll on the Nobody. Even tonight, in the rave, his boyfriend seemed completely out of it and could have easily botched the mission. Readying himself, Sora leaps up and begins his own trek home via rooftop.
           Whatever is eating Roxas, he’ll fix it.

January 8th, 2027
           “I don’t honestly know how you’ll be able to help,” Axel says as he escorts Sora into the library’s massive atrium. “The last time Roxas was like this he didn’t leave this place for weeks. ”
           Even though Sora was the unofficial 14th member of the Organization, he still required an escort on premises at all times for reasons that were uncertain but understandable. Normally Roxas was his guide, but Axel didn’t mind subbing as of late. “Thanks, man. I’ll come find you if I fail miserably. Break room, again?”
           Axel nods, “Yessir.”
           VIII returns to the elevator, leaving Sora to gaze at the small fortress of literature in the middle of the atrium. He watches in awe as books float in a near-even stream all across the library, impressed by the powerful magick keeping everything in check. He approaches the stack Roxas has made in a ring around himself; the blond immersed in his research and completely unaware of the vampire’s presence as he scribbles away in a notebook.
           “Rox,” Sora calls to him, but there’s no response. Sora sighs, “Axel said you probably won't talk to me, so I have a plan. You probably won't like it.” He leans down over the fortress and with a fluid motion tears the notebook away from Roxas’ grasp.
           Completely taken aback, XIII blinks a few times out of his meditative state. Then, his head snaps up to regard Sora with fiery eyes. “Hey—”
           “We need to ask for help.” The blond only stares with a fish-like face, so Sora continues, “We haven’t been able to do anything on our own. Even with Commander Tifa and the Brood Boys’ help—hell, even with Silver Fox and Bloody Mary—we’ve madeno progress. It’s time to ask for help.”
           Roxas has to force himself not to smile at this. He and Sora came up with those nicknames when they spent a lazy afternoon guessing what their friends’ band names would be, and it almost always sends him into a giggle fit anytime the vampire reminds him of it.
           Sora adds, “Think Water, Mind and Fire can help us?”
           XIII can’t hold back the pfft and subsequent laughter that escapes him, which brings a victorious smirk to Sora’s face.
           Amidst his chuckling, Roxas shrugs his shoulders, “Maybe you’re right.”
           He was worried this time would come… they were both genuinely hoping their circles outside the Org would have made some progress, but they’d been stuck in the same place for months now. That’s why he turned back to the library, because at least he can use the Org’s knowledge without having to interact with it’s members and possibly destroy their progress.
           After all, if the Necromancer is as dangerous and well-despised as he is, the higher-up Nobodies know about him and may try to prevent his pursuit. Who knows how many years it could take to earn their trust enough to gain their blessing? It’s likely that Xemnas wouldn’t be thrilled about the idea, and Namine… even though XIII trusts her like a sister, she could easily deem the quest too dangerous and strip everyone’s memories of it. Who knows if she would ever give them back, even if he became skilled enough to go after the Necromancer?
           “I don’t want to ask Water, Mind and Fire, though. I want to ask… er…” XIII taps his chin, “Rose…”
           “Rosemaggedon and Mysterio?”
           “Yes!” The blonde exclaims, snapping his fingers in recognition. “Wait, those were their band names? Those sound more like superhero names.”
           Before Sora can respond, the elevator doors slide open, and the sound of pernicious heels can be heard clacking against the marble. Sora and Roxas already know who it is based on this alone.
           Larxene encroaches upon them, distaste clear on her beautifully intimidating face. “You're still here?” She sneers, “Don’t your fucking legs hurt? There’s literally a desk right there.”
           “Actually, Larxene, we were just leaving.” XIII is standing up, legs unperturbed by sitting in such a manner, when he realizes something. “Actually, what are you doing here? I didn’t think the library was something that interested you.”
           She scoffs, “Well, since you little shits keep breaking my records I have to up the ante somehow.” Sora and Roxas share a split-second look of sly satisfaction. “I can’t just sit by and let you beat me as the most efficient Org member. Now get the hell out of here, I’ve got some…” She grunts in a sickened manner, “ Studying to do.” Then, she smiles, and her voice elevates to a cutesy chirp. “If you’re not cleaned up by the time I’m back down here, I promise they wont find your bodies.”
           Electricity crackles around her feet, and Larxene vanishes in a flash; she can be heard reappearing only a couple yards away, at the maximum distance of her teleportation ability.
           Both men, without hesitation, begin quickly chucking books skyward in pure terror.
            The bell over the door lets out a welcoming chime, and Zexion peeks his head out from behind a bookcase to irritably regard whoever has entered. He sees the friendly faces of Sora and Roxas, which softens his deposition significantly.
           “Oh, it’s you two. I haven’t seen you around here in a while. What’s up?”
           “We need your help,” Roxas responds, glancing around suspiciously. “But… the rest of the Org can’t know.”
           Zexion’s eyes narrow. “Why are you asking me and not Marluxia? He’s more of the rule-breaking type.”
           “Well, actually… he’s the one who told us to ask you. Said you owe him one?”
VI’s eyes snap to the bay window to see Marluxia peeking out of the flower shop. When their gazes lock, XI gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up. Zexion scowls.
           “What do you want, then?”
           “I need to look at all of your books on necromancy.”
           Zexion raises an eyebrow. “Hm… lock the door, please.” Roxas obeys, throwing the deadbolt on the shop door behind them. Then VI moves toward a scuffed up wall, waving his hand in an arc above his head. “Aperta.” He whispers, and the wall vanishes as if it were a mirage, revealing a steel sliding door. He pushes it open and snaps his fingers, “Veni ad me.” Glowing books come flying out, speeding over everyone’s heads, before landing in a neat stack on the store’s counter.
           “Do you have any chairs?”
           “No,” VI scoffs.
           “What about your customers?” Sora asks.
           “This isn’t really a store, it’s a place to keep my personal collection of books. When people come in, I want them to leave as quickly as possible.”
           Shrugging, Roxas responds, “The floor will do just fine then.”
           The couple sits down in front of the counter as Zexion goes back to tidying up some shelves.
           Hours seem to pass by in a blink as both men gorge themselves on information, but no clues are apparent in their research. Eyes strained, Roxas lets out a long yawn.
           “This is useless. There’s absolutely nothing here.”
           Zexion bee-lines to them suddenly, as if words were uttered in insult to his mother.
           “You are looking at a collection of master works curated from the world over. What you’re looking at is pure history, ” Sora’s heart does a little loving jump in response to this, “transcribed and packed neatly into the very books you’re desecrating with your touch. What about any of this is useless? ”
           XIII quickly backpedals, “N-no, Zexion, I am so sorry… that’s not what I mean. It’s just… we’re looking for something really specific—”
           “ How specific?” VI snaps.
           Roxas and Sora share a cautious look. If Zexion reacts poorly to the truth, Sora could just use his glamor to take the memory away… granted he’ll even get a chance to. They’d be betting their skill against a veteran member of the Org, and although their record has been rapidly expanding, they may not stand a chance.
           Roxas takes a shot in the dark.
           “Have you ever heard of ‘The Necromancer?’”
           A quiet blanket falls over the room, as if all three men are frozen in time…
           Then, VI relaxes his posture. “You should have said something sooner. Of course I’ve heard of The Necromancer. Here,” Working skillfully, he takes some books out of various piles and hands them down to XIII. “These should have everything you need.”
           “Th-thank you!”
           The lilac-haired man starts walking to the back of the store, but halts momentarily. Without turning to look at them, Zexion says, “The Necromancer is a very dangerous person, you know.”
           Roxas responds cautiously, “You’re not going to tell anyone… right?”
           Quietly, almost ruefully, VI responds, “I suppose now Marluxia is the one who owes me a favor.”
           He leaves them, and they get back to work.
This place is familiar, but Roxas isn’t sure how.
           In a field of soft grass, he lays. The clouds drift slowly overhead, and the wind rustles the field, but it is silent. He looks to his side, sees a single white flower, and watches as it twists into an endless spiral—
           “Roxas?” Sora’s voice jolts him from his slumber.
           “Hm?” XIII responds, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
           “You look exhausted. We’ve been at this all day, maybe it’s time to give it a rest.”
           Sora’s words breathe energy into the blond, and he quickly protests. “No, no! Look, we’ve only got a couple books left. We’ve gotten so much great information so far, there’s no reason to give up now.”
           Sora nods, “I guess that’s true.” Since Zexion sorted out the relevant books for them, they suddenly had heaps of information about the mysterious Necromancer and his reign of terror.            “I’m just worried, is all. How are we gonna look for this guy if you’re eyes are strained from reading?”
           Roxas laughs, “I’m fine, really. Here,” He hands two out of the last three books to Sora, “If you’re so concerned, you can look at these while I read this one.”
           The vampire happily accepts them before cracking open one to start scanning it’s contents.
           Roxas looks at the cover of his. A Necromancer’s Manual to the Fifteenth Century. He recognizes the name, but he wasn’t certain from where. Opening the book, he begins to skim the title page… when he notices something peculiar.
           On the list of contributing authors, one of them possesses a name bearing a particular symbol. The X is curved in a way that defies the ancient-looking serif font, dipping down to where it is level with the “e” beside it.
            Zay-ha… nort?
           “Sora, can I see the holotablet?”
           Without hesitation, the vampire reaches into his bag and retrieves the device. Roxas takes it, immediately flipping over to a picture of The Necromancer’s persona symbola which is labeled with everyone’s collective annotations. He zooms in on a consistent marking: a curved X. A note from his brother reads “ χ, Pronounced ‘chi’, Greek Alphabet.” Placing the tablet on the floor, he flips to that author’s section—titled Field Reports— and notices that only the X on the title page uses the χ symbol; even in instances of the name reappearing.
           “It’s him,” Roxas breathes, flipping the book over to show his companion. “Sora, this is the Necromancer. It has to be.”
           Sora skims the page, his face becoming more grave by the second. “Roxas… you did it. We finally found something huge .” He squints at the book, “Did Zexion leave a note in this?”
           The blonde flips the book back to check. The scrawl is gentle, a graceful flow of pencil in the margin. He’s seen it before: on notes taped to his lunch, in letters, on birthday cards… there’s no mistaking it.
           “Holy shit...that’s my mother’s handwriting.”
           Sora’s eyes go wide. “Holy shit … are you sure?”
           Roxas nods gravely while reading over the annotation in his head: Experiments? I know he’s there. What has he done?
           Flipping through the pages, XIII comes to find that it is indeed a series of field reports, mixed with some journal entries.
            Entry I: Much time has passed since I left the home of my youth behind, and in the myriad worlds I have visited, I have gained much knowledge. To divulge my secrets would be unwise, but to leave some of my discoveries unpublished even more so...
           The sections are very short, only transcribing parts of Xehanort’s travels, and his experiments in black magic. They also seem to skip entries, as if some reports were lost or couldn’t be found. Xehanort made vague references to certain events, but Roxas recognizes their occurrences from his brother’s research. Between entries, there are detailed sketches of creatures alongside figures and diagrams. Somewhere toward the end, he finds another one of his mother’s annotations: Ancient Magick Modern Myth… pg. 131.
           “Zexion!” Roxas yells, “Do you have a book on necromancy with ‘Ancient Magick Modern Myth’ in the title?”
           VI’s voice floats from the back of the shop, “It’s not about necromancy, but yes.”
           They hear him snap his fingers and mutter something, then a book comes floating out of his stash. Roxas plucks it from out of the air and looks over the cover: Ancient Magick and Modern Myths , published less than a decade ago . He opens it to the contributing authors page and his throat tightens. The name is right there, same as before:
            χehanort.
           Once more, the only χ symbol appears on the title page, even when Xehanort’s name comes up again. The recorded content is similar, including the missing entries. Sometimes, there are illustrations of normal-looking people, or places ranging from simplistic to exotic. Roxas reads some anecdotes aloud to Sora, including a section on Barbossa the Undying that the vampire likely contributed the research for. Finally, Roxas reaches Entry IX on page 131—
           His heart stops.
           There’s a sketch of a young man, hair spiked in a gentle wisp atop his head. It seems to be drawn from memory, as the visage doesn’t come across as focused on anything. The diagrams surrounding the haphazard portrait are full of indecipherable technical jargon, and the portrait itself is labeled Experiment 66.7: Destiny.
           “That’s…” XIII whispers, “that’s me .”
           “What?” Quickly, Sora leans over to take in the illustration. In disbelief, he mutters, “...what the hell is going on?”
           Roxas thinks long and hard about the two titles before him, slowly remembering one of the first things his coworker told him when he entered this shop. He turns his attention to the back of the store, “Did you ever find out who or what caused the ghoul problem, Zexion?”
           VI emerges once more, “No, we searched for months and got no answers. We had reason to suspect it may be the infamous Necromancer, but we had no real proof.”
           Opening the Necromancer’s Manual, Roxas holds it up and points to Entry I. “This was the section you used, right?”
           Zexion squints at him, “How did you…?”
           XIII cuts him off, “If this is what helped you, then it has to be him. You used his work to undo his work.”
           The lilac haired man crosses his arms thoughtfully, brows furrowing under his bangs. “I suppose that’s entirely within the realm of reason… though I never would have considered the possibility. Even if any of us realized something that should have been so obvious…”
           “Namine,” Roxas sighs, and VI nods in response. So XIII’s assumption was correct. “Who gave you these books, Zexion? Was it a woman with brown hair and green eyes? Or a guy with black hair?”
           “Those were donated by an anonymous source, and no more than three of each were ever published. All I know is that it was someone who worked closely with the Organization in the past.”
           Gripping the titles in his hands, Roxas shivers. They say there are six degrees of separation between you and everything else; a mere six things than can link you to anything in this wide world. Roxas remembers hearing that somewhere, and he didn’t truly believe it until just now.
           He and Sora snap photos of as much as they can, including the sketch, and quickly send them to Cloud. They use the graviga ward in Zexion’s shop to head back to Roxas’ apartment, where the blond’s roommates are already sleeping.
           “So, now what?” Sora asks, “As usual, more answers just lead to more questions…”
           Honestly, Roxas really isn’t sure what to do next. He never expected to come across his mother’s trail specifically, let alone end up standing right on top of it . He isn’t even sure how his mom got a hold of those books, and furthermore, how they ended up in the Organization’s possession. Although the publications gave them a better idea of who The Necromancer—this Xehanort person—is, there is absolutely no information as to his whereabouts. He could be halfway across the world and they couldn’t be certain.
           They’re closer than they could possibly imagine, and yet immensely far away at the same time.
           “If only we had a crystal ball or a scrying glass,” Roxas jokes, “That’d save us some time.”
           “Yeah, too bad they were mostly destroyed or went missing. And nobody has been able to create one successfully since then.” Suddenly, Sora looks quizzically at the ground, struck by a thought. “...maybe… maybe no one has been able to make one… but maybe we can find one.”
           XIII gawks at him. “Wouldn't have someone already thought of that? And if they did, wouldn’t they have already found one?”
           “It’s entirely possible, but at least we can try. Location spells require DNA, but scrying glasses have only ever needed a name and intent. It’s why they were destroyed in the Witch Wars, because they’re such powerful artifacts.”
           ,“Then how are we going to find one?”
           “I might have a workaround. We’ll need an overview of the city… let’s go to the roof.”
           They head up to the top of the building. Once they step into the brisk night air, Roxas plants his hands on his hips.
           “Alright, Your Highness. Plan?”
           The vampire searches the ground, answering his companion curtly, “Magick circle.”
           “Then, I’ll go grab some chalk—”
           “We don't need it.” Sora bites his thumb, “A long time ago, when I was exploring the Deep Jungles of Africa, I came across a very specific magick circle. Later, I found out that this kind of magick is called a ‘summon’.” He kneels and starts drawing on the rooftop with his blood. “I can’t use it because it’s white magick, but if we adapt it into a persona symbola using a combination of blood and white magick, we can use it to find a scrying glass.”
           “That’s brilliant… but what if the nearest artifact is on the other side of the world?”
           “Easy. We’ll do the summon right here, see where it goes, then keep resummoning it wherever we lose sight of it. It’ll be a pain in the ass, but it’s all we've got for the time being.”
           Sora keeps drawing as Roxas helps him choose symbols to personalize the circle. When he’s done, they go to stand on opposite sides of it. Kneeling down, Sora gingerly touches his fingertips to the drying blood, being careful not to smudge it. Roxas copies the action, waiting for instruction.
           “Like any other spell, we need to visualize what we want. When you have it in your head, focus on it, and say the first words that come to you. If we did this correctly, it’ll be the same words that come to me.”
           Taking a deep breath, Roxas closes his eyes. It’s peaceful night, so he’s able to focus quickly onto visualizing their goal. He imagines standing in an empty black space, and when he turns, he comes to face an endless mirror. In his vision, he says,Show me the Necromancer. The surface of the mirror ripples like water, twisting his visage into a spiral… in the distance, he can hear a mighty roar.
           The words come to him and Sora at the same time.
            “Creature of the earthshine,” They say in tandem, “Feel my wavelength. Our fates entwine. Give me strength.” The circle below them begins to glow, warming their fingers in greenish-golden light. “ Obey my command when I say your name; rise forth from the ground like a graceful flame.” They both open their eyes, shouting with all their might: “SIMBA!”
           A burst of light shoots up into the air from the circle, spinning to the heavens like a spiraling firework before plummeting back down to earth. The glow dissipates to reveal the ghostly form of a lion, it’s amber eyes perceiving them with interest.
           “Holy fucking shit,” Sora whispers, “It worked. ” The lion turns it’s head to look directly at Sora, staring him down in almost an astute way. “Uh… why is it looking at me?”
           Roxas stands, “Maybe it’s waiting for you to say something?”
           Sora wonders why the creature is so interested in him especially when he starts to consider that maybe his spirit animal was much more literal than Mikaeus had made it out to be.
           Still, how does one even talk to a spirit-lion?
“Simba,” He says to the apparition, “We need your help finding the artifact in our vision. Can you show us the way?”
           The lion examines him for a moment before turning around. It readies itself, then takes a massive leap off of the building. They run to the edge of the roof and watch as the spirit bounds across the buildings toward the center of the city.
           “I never thought I’d say this, but,” Roxas says, readying himself to leap, “Follow that lion!”
            A few miles of pursuit later, and it seems like Simba has no plans of stopping any time soon. Sora and Roxas are pretty exhausted from chasing it, but the further they can track it now means the less time they have to spend on repeating the spell later.
           “We could be at this for hours,” Sora calls to him in midair, “Think the Org might be concerned about ghost animals running around?”
           XIII is about to respond when he spots the lion laying in an alley.
           “There—!”
           He tires to quickly cross over, but misses his trajectory completely and ends up slamming into Sora. The two tumble from the air, their bodies clipping the edge of a building. Barely in the nick of time, Roxas is able to use his powers to soften the blow of their bodies hitting the earth; right in front of the nonplussed lion-ghost.
           Sora groans, rolling over on the ground, “What did you want to major in, again?”
           Picking himself up off the ground, Roxas sighs, “....Physics.”
           “ That’s right. Physics!”
           “Oh, give it a rest. No broken necks right? Then we’re fine. ” He glances around, “Wait a minute. I know where this is.” He runs out of the alley and takes in the sight of the Organization headquarters towering overhead. “Why did Simba bring us here?” He senses something beside him, and looks down to see the apparition has come to sit next to him. It stares up into him, almost knowingly, and a chilling realization creeps over Roxas’ shoulders. “...I think I know where the scrying glass is.”
           Sora appears on Roxas’ opposite side. “Where is it?”
           Crossing his arms, Roxas grimaces. “My goddamn boss’ office.”
           Sora visibly flinches, “What?! Are you absolutely sure?”
           XIII nods gravely. “If I’m wrong, then I might be out a bonus… and a few memories. I’m not even sure how we’ll be able to get in there without being spotted.”
           They stand in silence for a moment, brainstorming a plan. They can very well use graviga portals to get inside, as the area around the building has a ward that permits it within a certain distance. However, even if Roxas turned them invisible, the portals can be easily seen on the headquarter’s security cameras. Using the elevators would be out of the question too, and it’s not like mysteriously opening doors are a common occurrence in the building.
           There would also be no way to explain the fucking ghost-lion casuallying following them around like a placated cat. At least their spirit companion can just walk through a wall if need be—
           “That’s it! ” Sora gasps, “I’ve got it! Roxas, this may be the hardest thing you’ll do, but I think it’ll work.”
           Gesturing wildly, Sora explains that Roxas can use a combination of his force powers and invisibility to create a mock-ward over the graviga spell. If they timed it just right, he could cover the portal and then make a bubble over the three of them. To get into the office, all Sora has to do is phase-shift through the wall and disable the cameras in the hallway and office. Then Roxas can drop the invisibility and they can search the place uninhibited.
           Nodding along, Roxas says, “That just might work, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to maintain so much invisibility over a portal of all things.”
           “Well, you can always take a little time to practice. Simba, you don't mind waiting, do you?” The lion only stares at him blankly. “Er… I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”
            Well, Roxas thinks, If I can make my clothes invisible, then a portal may not be too difficult.
           He reaches over to hold Sora’s hand, then places a cautious hand on top of Simba’s head; it feels like touching mist, and Simba doesn’t seem to mind. Focusing carefully, he shifts the light around them, making all three of them invisible. Easy.
           Next, he tries to expand his range by about three feet away from each of them… then four… then a full yard. Surprisingly, this is also pretty easy. In fact, it’s a little less difficult than trying to hold the invisibility so close to the skin. He carefully removes his hands from his companions and, much to his relief, is still able to maintain the field around them.
           Taking a deep breath, he opens up a portal inside the field, being careful not to open an exit just yet. He steps inside, the vampire and spirit following him into the darkness. He closes his eyes, focusing on maintaining the field and opening another portal at the same time. He struggles to visualize the ideal way to envelop the exit portal in his power… when finally, he imagines a glinting soap bubble. It sits shimmering in the dark, when slowly it seems to be getting sucked up by a pinhole of light in the abyss. He watches as the bubble folds itself through and around the pinhole. Then, they both expand as a portal opens. Roxas opens his eyes to see his visualization has taken form, and an exit from the darkness to a dimly lit hallway has appeared. Carefully, he carries his invisibility field into the hallway, his companions close behind. Safely out of the portal, Roxas closes it and quickly leads them to the wall beneath the security camera.
           “I can’t hold it too much longer,” He pants uncomfortably, sweat dripping from his brow.
           “Leave it to me.” Sora phase shifts into the wall, disappearing completely into it.
           Focusing intensely, Roxas does everything in his power to hold the field over himself and Simba. He gasps for breath, knees buckling; he can feel the field shrinking under the strain…
A hand pops out of the wall, giving him a victorious thumbs up, before vanishing again.
           He lets the enchantment drop, and subsequently collapses on the ground. Concerned, the lion leans down to sniff his face.
           “Good kitty,” Roxas mumbles into the floor, “I just need a minute, is all…”
           He flops onto his back and takes a few long, deep breaths. Just as he feels somewhat recovered, the office door clicks and swings open.
           “Step into my office, Number XIII, I’m about to give you a raise if you know what I—HOLY SHIT! ” He sprints over to Roxas, practically powersliding into a kneeling position beside him, “Are you okay?!”
           “Yeah, I’m fine.” Roxas sits up, “You were right, that was hard as hell. But we made it. Let’s finish what we started.”
           They walk into the room with Simba leading them. They start searching the room for clues, careful not to leave any fingerprints or shuffle things around too much. Then, the spirit-lion approaches a wall, before turning to them. His expression is somewhat unreadable, and he slowly begins to vanish.
           “What’s happening?” Roxas asks.
           “His task must be complete. I guess you were right about Xemnas’ office, Roxas.”
           They both say their goodbyes to the lion as it’s essence dissipates into the air, leaving them both a little lonelier than they were before. They stare at the wall, not quite sure what their next step is.
           “Think it’s behind there?” Roxas asks.
           “I guess we’ll find out.”
           The vampire walks forward and phase-shifts his arm into one side of the wall. It’s a little crude, but it’s not a bad idea at all. Sora keeps slowly walking forward, wiggling his arm in the walls and waiting to feel air. Then, he stops. He holds out his non-submerged hand to Roxas and the blonde takes it without hesitation. This time it’s Sora’s turn to concentrate his power as they walk forward, stepping into a small room covered top-to-bottom in soundproof foam. At the opposite end of the room, there’s a set of velvet curtains, and in the slit between they can make out a reflective surface.
           “We did it,” Roxas says in disbelief. “Sora… we did it.” He briskly crosses the small space and throws back the curtains to reveal an ornate mirror. Even though the surface looks black as midnight, it still perfectly reflects their images. “Where is the necromancer?” He demands, “Where is Xehanort?!”
           There’s no response.
           “Why isn’t it working?” He whispers, “We came all this way, it has to work…”
           There’s a metallic click.
           XIII and Sora’s eyes lock, and Roxas slides the curtains to their original position. Sora rushes forward, grabbing Roxas around the waist and pulling them into the closest wall just as Roxas turns them invisible. They cover each other's mouths, doing their best to breathe silently.
           Faintly, they can hear what sounds like a heavy metal door sliding open, but they can’t hear any footsteps due to the soundproofing. Roxas’ eyes flick up to Sora, desperately trying to convey a message. It works, as Sora begins to gently shake his head as if to say ‘no.’
Roxas ignores this as he very carefully leans over, pushing his head out of the wall and soundproof foam. He intensely focuses on maintaining the invisibility as Sora does his best to focus on the phase-shifting.
           He can hear the curtains being drawn… then, the unmistakable voice of the Superior fills the room.
            “Slave in the magic mirror, come from the farthest place.” He hears wind somehow blowing through the room, “Through wind and darkness, speak, let me see thy face.”
           Then, a mysterious voice responds, “What wouldst thou know, Superior?”
           “Magic mirror on the wall,” Number I asks, “Show me Roxas.”
Exuent
A/N: It’s all coming together, now…
I’VE WAITED SO LONG TO GET TO THIS CHAPTER. On that note… YOU GUYS. By my count, there are THREE CHAPTERS OF THIS FANFICTION LEFT! Three! YAAAAAAAAY! I keep trying to time my chapter releases to KH3 news but they always catch me at the worst possible time. Lol.
My goal is to be done with The Night by Halloween (I want to release the last two chapters together, like a couplet), so wish me luck in quickly finishing those off soon! I’m so excited. Thank you all so much for your continued support, and I can’t wait to dazzle you with the last three chapters! I think you probably know what’s about to happen, but I hope you’ll enjoy it anyways.
References and Inspirations:
- This chapter is brought to you by my shitty little edgy middle-schooler self. The title comes from my favorite My Chemical Romance song, “The Sharpest Lives,” and is the original inspiration behind Blood Love (no longer available to read), Things That Kill in the Night, and now, The Night. That song is the main reason why you have this fic now, so give it a listen and enjoy!
If you want updates and even exclusive previews of upcoming chapters, check out my tumblr! You can also ask me questions and help me with my writer’s block! Find it at mewsomniac . tumblr . com (keep in mind you must log in to view)
DISCLAIMER: I do not condone the use of drugs, illegal or otherwise! Especially if you’re not 21 or over! However, I can’t stop you from living your life, so I simply suggest you party responsibly. If you or anyone you know would like more (and honest) information PLEASE GO TO MY AUTHOR DESCRIPTION AND LOOK UNDER “ ADDITIONAL RESOURCES” . Be safe and stay hydrated!
-+-
Please please PLEASE favorite, follow, review, send kudos, add bookmarks… anything! They help me more than you can possibly know! Please keep sending them
- 13
- 14
- 15
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Night