#| drabble

[valorxdrive]

Time.

....

Just how long has it been?

Days? Years? Eons? Such a concept felt akin to perfectly cup water with the hands. In a mind that swims with unbridled hope, a resolve to tear through all doubt and unearth the truth of an ancient past, the forbidden road had led him into experiences that truly can't be penned into words. What flowed through him however was no branch of sorrow, no garden of doubt, the insipid whispers of the chaos that lurked in dangerous foes and the misguided alike, poison that aimed to erode his very being, it failed to breach that gilded might of the Heart within.

A Heart once locked into a familiar rhythm and flow, resting, only to find itself stirred. Eyes once locked in the cradle of gentle dreams in a bastion of radiance, a light that melts down into the cosmic sea begins to open. A lazy stir, giving him a few of floating through the boundless expanse of chaos itself. Keybearers who reached these untold pinnacles could find the crevices between light and darkness, between mind and matter. A sense of wonder fills him irregardless of a more dangerous chapter, where a forlorn drive is woven with a demand for his 'protection.'

How it was a dance between blades, light and technology prowess unlike anything he had ever seen before. How it was powers that could actually interact with the keyblade in ways that defied reason. Even now, that mysterious figure, someone to search for, had left an indelible mark in his Heart. It was a cause for concern, but if anything, maybe that fighting will should be relief in equal measure. Yozora. Wherever they are, no doubt they're still tearing through adversities and will proceed to keep themselves standing.

Even then, no true fear found itself tearing into boundless courage known as Sora's Heart.

A smile.

A mark of calamity for all those that wish Ill and Oblivion upon the very arcs of creation settled upon his lips.

'That call again.' Even amidst his exhaustion, the details burn into a knowing etch within the mind. 'A connection to the Keyblade, something I've felt since that graveyard that only grew. There's no doubt about it, they need us as much as we need them! ..Heheh, and I don't think a sleepyhead is anything close to what'll get things done here.'

So let that hand, proudly marked with scars, grooves and hardened skin reach forth. Let the familiar breath of that scintillating grace begin to weave a luminous rush upon his palm, expanding further, weaving itself together into the golden and silver Key that marked the end of a horrific Keyblade war. The one known as Sora would give a stretch of the limbs, the primal waters around himself stirring in recognition. Resolve would flare in abundance as a touch of defied physics like his voice ring free.

"Give me a bit more time. We'll figure this out!" Just as they always will! From what the keybearer is beginning to understand, these matters long since had more than just the primal powers of Light, Darkness and Nothingness at the helm. A wide, broaching history of countless keyblade wielders and sullen histories were the festering chains that kept these agonies opened. ..And who knows just how long it's been since anyone could properly reach the crux of this issue. Organization after Organization, madman after madman, there was no shortage of pain that empowered those that wanted to introduce All's End.

A manifestation of his heart's strength, light unfettered would brighten the groves and edges of the Kingdom Key as it's aimed forth, coalescing that might into a miracle point of energy as it's finalized. Launching it forth, the power would effortlessly tear through this cosmic sea without resistance, biting into an aspect of space and singlehandedly forming a new road through sheer strength of will. Even now, the familiar song of his Keyblade, eager and invigorated sings within the heart as a new Door is opened.

At that same moment, the very waters that permeated this hidden realm began to sink into the entryway, forming a vortex of heightening space as the luminosity served as the guide. Rather than focusing on the serenity of such a view, Sora's mind fell upon the many smiling faces within his memories, of countless friends made throughout the stars and many more yet to be met. All of them were waiting and not for a second, did the warmth of that hope ever found itself lost, even now it burns like a gentle, invincible fire in the depths of his being.

"No time to lose!"

Let his first kick off of space be his launch, a brave dive towards that future awaiting him!

[astrxlfinale]

Amidst the sound of a resounding explosion, pain sparks like bursts of pure vitriol throughout his being, jagged fragments of shattered pillars and the golden, tainted Remembrance spewing this distorted blood found itself flecking the surroundings amidst the initial roars of victory. It was a sudden attack, one that managed to bite in ways beyond the mortal coil, sinking directly at the fragmented dust that cleaved even more recent instances from his mind.

A touch of forgetfulness, that measure of Oblivion that devours the dust from the grand eye of imagination. Caelus would feel his breath eject brutally from his lungs as sinks into pure refined concrete, tearing through the building's structure as the Memosprites doused in Destruction's taint prowled in glee at this precious morsel. Even as a tinge of golden blood dribbles from his lips, it still felt out of reach would the ever growing peril.

Foes like this would not be a challenge in normal circumstances, their erratic madness and lost goals holding no chance for his original methods of speaking the language of violence.

Instead, it felt as if this opposition themselves were the sole source of what could help this hunt for the invisible. Time and time again, the Stellaron's method of utilizing Remembrance was delivered pure denial. It'd be either inert, or a forceful attempt leaving his head feeling as if it blistered over with a pure and hellish frost. As he spat towards some corner of this emptied hall of study, a defiant grin couldn't resist brewing upon his lips. "Least you bastards leave my head a lil lighter.."

Whatever he ate for breakfast, prior conversations from today, all of that dust known as Memory found itself nulled and void, leaving a frightening silence while the burgeoning rush of defiance pushes him back onto his feet. Even as his Paths within scream to utilize them in some way, to feed that impulse to annihilate his foes in try and true methods, Caelus merely refuses. No, that etched crystal radiance of Fuli continually plays in his mind, the imagined image of forming a tether from his Stellaron soul into that veritable ocean honed firmly in mind.

...

Another attempt to coalesce that strength is again met with absence, leading to him ducking swiftly underneath the snapping, gargantuan teeth of one of those bloodied mutts as a quick backflip wills more distance between them.

'Mem always had a natural pedal, step onto the dust and she'd take care of the rest. But in this case? That's more of their actual strength than mine talking? What kinda dumbass have I been? Have I really been putting Memories to good use?!' It was a seething feeling that roars and rages within his chest, that ignites a pounding realization in his chest as the whip of a serrated serpent's tail collides brashly with raised arms, soaking up the impact and splintering his skin as those teeth grit with pure tenacity. Lifting clear from his teeth as the entire face of the building finds itself eradicated, it'd be in this airborne state that the echoing note of his Heart begins to hasten.

Except, it wasn't the Stellaron or his physical heart beating in this case. Being set at the cusp of a critical moment only made his emotions feel more vivid, like the abrupt and spilling color upon those voids left by those hungering maws. No longer was it mere dust, rather a tranquil pool that ripples as a distinct memory almost sears the senses with the real time state it took.

Authenticity. Truth.

Of how he felt an unparalleled terror in seeing a Leviathan's maw open wide, drawing Imaginary power before the frightened eyes of a best friend, how there wasn't any other thought that ran in his mind from the prior strife, only to protect her no matter the cost. How it felt to initially have his skin searing away from the Doomsday monster's blast, and eventually how his Stellaron repaid that transgression by devouring it in uncontrollable power. It'd be in this chaotic chasm that the river of Fuli's dominion found itself touched, willingly allowing the soak of the Stellaron as it greedily drinks.

The strange thing? Caelus felt as if this wasn't thinking at all, yet the Remembrance occurs, soon his voice furiously commands for the lost power to take shape, for Memoria to nurture a bond with the Fragmentum and begin splitting an uncanny valley into creation with the stroke of a of a pen. Pearlescent pink fades into a skylit blue, a feral growl echoing from the pitch before creation is taken from that Authentic shard.

Proof of a life such as his.

Speak from the innermost Heart, O' Trailblazer, the Pure Land itself.

"Starbane."

Ripped from the clutches of the past itself would be the Instant owned solely by this heart. May a ravenous cry shudder the ground and and ripple across the heavens as it tears free from the rift, snatching Caelus' upright figure upon a conjured wing, heavily wisps of Memoria forging its frame allowing the brilliance of this instrument of Destruction to overshadow the small army of sprites below. Fear wasn't written into their beings, only the pure and unbridled desire to finish the prey that once seemed so vulnerable at a point.

Upon this cliff face, they were nothing more than targets underneath the conjuring of reality's Umbra. The newest 'Memosprite' heeds the commands from within, leading to its briefly summoned form to outstretch a claw, dragging pure power from the falsified Antimatter engine as it begins to rapidly pulse with growing might. Quantum energy would seethe viciously through the claw and forearm, spilling over like a poisonous ichor that soon billows into a dazzling blue 'flame' as a series of potshots were vomited from the Winged serpents below.

Caelus' hand would command space itself to yield to the frosted over serenity of Time, allowing all momentum to be seized and become aimlessly adrift in an Eternal Instant. Not that the Doomsday beast required any such leverage, for the mere summoning of this might spelled oblivion for the forces below. Living in 'past' and the 'present' felt so surreal, as if having another set of eyes so shy to the workings of reality.

Good enough for now.

"Reduce them all to a memory!"

Let these words become their requiem. For the Leviathan fragment's hand immediately reeled back, only to become a blinding torrent of claws ripping upon the infrastructure below. Forget the opposition alone, the mere contact upon the cliff face ignited an all engulfing explosion. The wail of that outpour of power would expand, atomizing foes and the land alike, soon leading to a geyser of pure blue energy launching off towards the heavens itself. That building, the infrastructure, the enemies? Annihilated. Left as mere motes of matter as frantic and dissimilating quantum found itself frothing over the sense of order, leading the remnants to become merely bygone.

A data like film is all that remains as the Doomsdays Beast released its victory cry. Erudition's sense of 'memory' left data-like skeleton of the surroundings, shakily maintaining itself in static like hums.

Meanwhile, Caelus found himself shakily stepping back, dipping onto a knee at the surreal sensation of tapping into such a delicate but mighty part of the self. ..Looking at reality through the heart like this? It was goddamn demanding.

"Is that what this troublemaker been carrying all along..?"

[sharkfinx]

Childhood Memories.

Far from the mainland of Kirigakure, deeper in the mist where the rays of sun would only reach in the hottest of the summer days. Wood platforms stand floating in the sea as the waves are peaceful at that part of the country. Some houses are connected by bridges, others seem to only lead to nothing at the first glance. Not all Hoshigakis liked to be dry all the time, some structures stood deeply at the sea’s bottom. 

Bubbles emerge at the corner of one of those platforms as one boy jumps from the water. Holding a red crab over his head and with quick steps enter one of those houses. 

"Mamaaa Mamaaa! Can I eat this??" The little boy exclaims to a taller figure, already nibbling on one of the crustacean’s legs. His mother stands almost two and half meters tall, their head resembles more a shark than the rest of their body. Their hands are busy sharpening a dagger in a grindstone in the middle of the kitchen.

"Oh dear, you'll ruin your appetite…. you better give it to me, nee." Her voice differs from her appearance, it’s a soft and monotone tone. She takes the little animals from the kid's hands and daggle it over her big jaw full of teeth. “Not fair! Not fair! Mama maaama!” The tiny boy can’t do anything besides try to reach it with his tiny hands.  As the crab was falling inside their mouth, a spear came flying and hits it. Crashing the little one over the bamboo’s wall. Another figure, smaller and more human..if it wasn't one single gill under each one of her cheeks and the blue grayish skin. She shakes her head negatively toward the two. At their back there’s a giant piece of squid that is wrapped with a net. It’s already sliced up as if it was torn apart with precision. 

“Eeehh? You’re taking the prey from your own kid? I’ll pull all of your teeth out.” The woman enters the kitchen soaked in water, twisting their long blue hair over the floor. It doesn’t seem to matter as the wood didn’t seem to absorb it. That house is adapted for that type of living. She tosses her caught at the other’s muzzle. “--- Again?” The giant answered with a scared voice, rummaging through kitchen’s silverware. A large ceramic board is placed in the sink, as it starts to prepare the dinner. “—don’t be so dramatic, my love. You act as if they wouldn’t grow back… besides you forgot to bring the kelp I asked twice that week. It’s your own fault.” She gives light taps over her wife’s shoulder before placing a hand over her own mouth that had the same sharp teeth. “Kekeekekeek ~”  

“No no.. you have to be more elegant, Kii-chan.” The smaller woman has a bamboo sword in her hands, circling the kid that stands still, balancing rice bags over their head and shoulders. At the slight movement, the mother gently taps her sword at his ankle, fixing his posture. “Mizukages can’t have rude soldiers by their side. We’re Hoshigakis—We are their blade, their hand, their strength…. Outside the battlefield we must be pristine, educated and — “What happens if I’m not?” The boy interrupts her, with a mockery grin. “I’ll bite your head off and have another son. Kekekeke~” She smacks the top of his head with the bamboo sword, rolling her eyes. “Ouchy! Moooommmm! You’re always saying that…” He feels his feet sinking for a second—immediately controlling his chakra to stay over the water. “Kii-chan, focus. Go on, again.” “I’m Hoshigaki Kisame, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He places a hand over his chest, bowing elegantly… it’s all perfect until a bag of rice falls from his shoulders. Silence. The little boy shrugs with a guilty smile but his mom doesn’t forgive. He runs but she’s faster and as soon after catching him, affectionally nimble on the boy’s head as he laughs wholeheartedly. 

The taller Hoshigaki and her kid are wearing matching aprons, the kitchen is big enough to fit them. Completely adapted with all tools that were handcrafted for her big claw hands. While the mom gouges the fishes from a basket, the little boy, standing over a chair, helps her by cutting vegetables. “ — I was from the fifth squad of soldiers while your mom was from the first division. She didn’t really want to retire, neee.” She talks in a dreamy manner, holding one of the fishes to her cheek. “Who would? Standing side by side by the third. She was so fierce, so strong… What an honor. Be their blade and listen directly to his orders? fighting non stop, the bloody org—” Kisame is unsure if his mom’s passion is directed to the Mizukage or to her wife. Maybe both? But his ears perked when she suddenly stopped. “Bloody what?” His ears work too good for his own good. “ Nothing, nee.” Her face is dark blue. She gets one of the fishes that wasn’t cut and slices their head off. Turning it upside down on a cup as she waits for the blood to pour.  Pushing to the boy that quickly forgets his question and starts drinking as if was a juice. “Then then?” “Well… We were training as usual. The first division is responsible for training the rest of the soldiers… and then It was my turn. I knew I wasn’t going to win, nee ! but I tried my best. In the end, I had one broken arm and one rib. My dorsal fin was bleeding out because she almost tore it off. Then she grabbed my face and said;  What a pathetic girl you are, Kekekeke. ~” The fish on her claws is smashed to bits as she fangirls in a completely passionate voice. “Took me 5 years to be able to defeat her so we could marry. So many broken bones.. Would do it all over again! nee nee ~” “But pathetic is ...! That’s an insult! That's rude! nee?” Kisame watches his mom pathetically hides her embarrassed face. “You won’t understand! You’re still a little pup, dear. Now enough talking! Finish cutting those before we both get our eyes pulled off, nee.”  She cleans off the bits of fish with water from the sink as they both return doing their chores.

It's graduation day. The friendships that were made in the past years were sliced off at every dance of sword that crashes at each other. Bodies cover the floor; Kids, young adults and others. All of the silenced voices had only one goal: to be a shinobi. Their only bad luck is to have a Hoshigaki at their class.

As his sword goes back to the shelf, the last one standing is covered in so much blood that his blue skin can’t be seen. It’s the first time Kisame has the scent of human blood. The ecstasy that only a winner can feel. From the top of the stairs a man stands taller than others, his expression unchanging upon the carnage. He stands from his chair—walks by the long stairs that take up the center of the stage. His long dark hair adorned with pears, his face calmer than death itself. The elegance, his manners. As he walks, others bow in respect. Until they’re face to face. His mothers talked about this man but seeing him was another completely experience. As if an angel descends from the heavens to meet him. A power that he can’t comprehend looks down, silently. The 10 year old boy places a hand over his chest, looks down and finally takes a knee. “I’m Hoshigaki Kisame, it’s an honor to meet you. Mizukage sama.” Perfectly acted at every bit, when given the order he opens his eyes again and stands up. He watches those hands so affectionately place the Kirigakure’s bandana over his forehead. Eyes never blinking staring at the figure, their straight hair that falls over their shoulder so gracefully, their delicate eyelashes and compassion. “Honor your village and the ones before and after me. Congratulations. Hoshigaki Kisame.” The little boy’s heart burst. It’s instincts, an automatic imprint that happens to every single one of his kin. He’s not nervous, but there’s something in his chest that burns passionately and he finally understands his mothers’s feelings. A loyalty uncompressible to anyone other than Hoshigakis.  “What a monstrous chakra he has.” The mizukage places a hand over the spiky blue hair of the graduate and gently pets. “He’s a single child after all. Kekekeke..”

Hoshigaki’s families rarely had a single child, the usual was six at the start as the number go down as they share that aspect with their animal counterpart. Three was the normal.. but one?  

“I guess he didn’t even spare his own siblings, nee.” “A monster, indeed. The monster of our hidden mis---” Their conversation is interrupted by a loud, deep purring that comes from the kid. All eyes turn to Kisame as he is grinning, eyes closed and nuzzling the Mizukage’s hand with his head. His mothers shake their heads, tapping his own forehead. The mizukage almost form something that resembles the smallest of the grins. He doesn’t smile—since that died a long time ago when someone was taken from him.

The three of them are walking under the moonlight, Kisame is over the shoulders of one of his moms, staring without stop at his bandana. “Ooooo! Smells like him!” He lowers it down as both of his moms give a sniff. “ It does! Isn’t that incredible? neee. Kii-chan!” The one carrying Kisame smiles happily afterwards. “I’m soo jealous! I was graduated by the second’s… His scent wasn’t as good.” “Someday…I...—would be nice to work for the Mizukage sama, nee ~” The kid nuzzle his mom’s head, taking a big yawn. “Kekekeke ~ It was inevitable! It's our instincts. The Mizukage represents our village and its people, ….Our connection with them runs in our blood. Kii-chan. When we shared our first meal—and our ancestors launched themselves into the land and lost their skin. The first accepted us as their kids.... but the third accept us as we are. Bloodlust and all. It’s our sacred purpose. As they are the only ones that can handle our feral kind of love.”

He listens closely to his mother as her image mirrors under the sea at her feet. The bandana is tied back to their forehead and he promises to not forget what it represents.

[scarletooyoroi]

Where the pomegranates sing,

The apples clap,

And the Forest remembers.

Deep within this land enriched by vitality of all forms, producing bounties, fostering strength, a residual feeling of home sears within the faithful staff in his hands. Despite being immersed in the scale of history ranging from the call of that unbound flame, to the many hands that carried it some iteration of it with varying degrees of success, how long has it been in that well of consciousness that this very weapon could feel this sensation again.

How the emerald flash of greenery bounced upon the sunlight, how this beloved vitality became the reason that it turns malady and strife in the toll of ashes to welcome such dangers to oblivion itself?

This particular wielder who also has been blessed by the unbound flame of the world seemed to hold a touch more understanding. Despite this form of pseudo sentience being a fading brand of awareness, the blonde warrior held a means of allowing life to flow in the form of will. From times experienced around Inazuman weaponry, against the well kept to the shoddy, to the malicious lined to the equally strong in some fervent faith, blades that found themselves infused with Tatarigami always held that stint of madness that needed to be seared from reality.

Mortal rot left horribly unkempt would lead to pestilence, then what of the divine variety? Lives more deeply entrenched in those echelons of power were a veritable nuclear meltdown upon death depending on their desire.

In short, these ‘realms of authority’ would naturally clash, Teyvat’s and the living coil of that very being. It mattered not if these were born and bred within this very world.

____

Thoma’s current journey within Sumeru has led him deep into the versatile woodlands. A cheery sense of free while actively running, leaping, soaring over high tops, methodically bouncing between sturdy trunks, to flipping along difficult heights where the smallest touch of leniency would lead to a harrowing plummet. Yet, he found joy in scaling through the lands without plenty of rhyme and a focused sect of reason.

The taste of Anemo here was crisp, rivaling that of the lands that hail the very Archon that established dominion upon that part of the seven. A natural guess would be that overflowing flora eagerly give as much as it takes, personalized contentment found in finding a home amidst all the denizens large and small.

So he certainly doesn’t complain, for more fresh oxygen and a stir of divine will means a much brighter burn.

That searing heart (and a good set of directions) would lead him deep into an area within the Lokapala Jungle, cleaved from many of the manmade or animal routes beaten into the earth.  A good and steady beat dances within his chest, further amplifying that inspired rhythm of the lands itself. Thoma’s certainty was growing further as he could feel the tempered burn that controls itself through the pole section of Homa, stirs of crimson life radiating in the hum of a tender beat.

There was no better confirmation that he’s on the right track. “A place where it resonated the closest with that heat.. Forming rare varieties of wood that thrives in any flame, amplifying the call of the very heat that’s willed into it.” He softly speaks, recalling clear of the legends spoken in one land, and the sharper, sparse reports found in the House of Deana.

For this ascension, a crucial key would be to dive back to the metaphorical roots, to guide this power back here.

Thus he’d advance onward, becoming a presence that reflects an imposing but respectful nature. Often as he doesn’t enjoy letting his merits be too widely known, gaining the recognition of animal life, to the exuding his will to the land’s very essence itself was important. Just the sight of dendrograna, so similar to electrograna reflects that chief lesson.

The land lives. It needs to learn about him and his intentions, as much as he’s here upon that very journey himself.

Many vines and flora would draw themselves apart upon his--, more particularly, Homa’s arrival, drawing apart as the presence it radiates reflects one of contentment, of that same boundless wisdom and hope that helped carve the dark futures of calamity away despite an element that always seemed to be an ending to forest life. Curious eyes would be drawn in how this particular grotto seems to expand the further he advances, hollowing out into the form of a more open hall compared to anything else.

Part of Thoma couldn’t resist wondering if this inventive measure is more man made or world like.

Within time he’d soon find the location he was intending to discover. Deeper humidity, more fragrant and heavier air, what he comes to discover... Isn’t exactly what he expected. Yet, that in itself hardly matters. What he imagined to be a forest of scarlet initially turns out to look more normalized in some regards, these particular trees holding edges of silver as a more prominent trait compared to anything else. Yet, the undeniable answer rang within his heart, causing its beats to hasten as that same mysterious edged itself into his mind.

"Only an unbound flame can purify this world.’

A voice that seems to draw its breath directly against his chest.

As his eyes sharpen with proper recognition, he advances, giving the firewood staff a flip until its positioned vertically, settled properly within his hand as a familiar ritual would begin anew. There was a distinct understanding of his reasoning for being here, to bring this land one of it’s fashioned children once again. Calamity was afoot, and naturally, understanding of the core and beyond would be key to reach the appropriate heights. No more, no less.

“Homa needs the strength of this place, the home where it was raised to power. Feel the coursing wave of my flames, its understanding in what it means to and not to harm.” Declares the Fixer, settling the spear’s blunt end to the red earth below. That  gently radiating eye begins to stir with further life as it gradually awakens from a more controlled slumber, allowing a flowing, aura like shawl of scarlet to erupt from its dual scarlet tips. Even the darker portions of the staff began to glow, gaining a more distinct scarlet tint comparable to the ground below.

Flame began to bloom around the staff’s head as Thoma settles down onto his knees, allowing for his divinity through the Vision to serve as a more appropriate link, to join this very experience as he puts his hands together in a stance prayer while allowing for his eyes to close.

This.. Unbound flame. He felt that it was time to let firsthand experience be his way of learning.

To let the world itself teach.

[astrxlfinale]

There it is, that question smashing around his mind with too much moment. Why Time? The very concept finds itself gnawing at the forefront of his mind, and in turn, makes his mind ponder about THEM.

What would Fuli truly get out of saving his life?

Giving him the means to traverse a realm of death, to dance through multiple periods of time as if leafing through a page. How that very book fell into his hands, a sacred pen soon following that can actively alter the entire realm of Amphoreus if need be. The depth of such an ability speaks for itself. Caelus's lips only tensed as kept his eyes upon the blue tinted life ahead of him As I've Written levitating before him as he settled within Vortex of Genesis. Time and time again, that urge was obeyed to just spend more time here.

Some alien but all too familiar part of himself felt attached to this place. Even as the now gilded constellations above sings of the epics of heroes, from their highest notes to the inevitable points of downfall, for their deaths were all written in Gold.

....

Could it be?

An idea was brewing, the sort in which actively speaking out the idea to ally or foe simply felt forbidden. If this entire matter of the fate of Amphoreus could potentially have THEM concerned, then just how important was the act of rewriting? To ensure these memories, the true struggles remained incorrupted and purely contained? Just picturing that refractive, all-seeing gaze of the 'Sky Father' as the true weight of memory swam through his mind, pieces felt like they were coming together.

In a case like this, the beginning, the end, technically these concepts could not exist in a state of perpetuity. These were grounds for him to traverse, countless millennia to not merely find the truth.. No.

How could he awaken the state of Origin? Even through the river of rot, of madness and destitution, it persists, the most precious secret that many hands were pushing him towards.

"Complete the story."

Gold could be the very borders that are stopping it all. It could be the source of what throws all into disarray, to carve a promise of desolation for the Heroes who's resolve managed to tear through Amber Eras, goddamn eons of this potential repetition. Given how a year passed in this distorted time and likely little has passed outside, the gravity of Amber Era to distorted time could be an entirely different hell. So much so that a swath of impassioned emotion shot through the Nameless akin to a lance.

All this time they haven't found themselves giving up. Through a Hero's journey they ride, even if a destined end plays at the unseen corners of a new incarnation. A determination to not let the penultimate end come to past, even with how badly this current 'book' finds itself frayed, torn and smudged through the madness that wish to devour this tale.

As if imbibing it's favorite type of poison.

Caelus began to believe that a truth that ends all madness would be very 'fallacy' can that turn this all on its head.

This story can not be forgotten.

[valorxdrive]

These waves. A melody that often soothed once childish impulse, a heavy heart and served as a guide when he felt lost.

This land. His cradle upon a worldly scale, holding the countless people deemed friends and family alike. It gave him the means to be nurtured.

The Sky. A place for his imagination to frolic without pause. Letting his dreams join that that tapestry of varying blues, daring him to reach for the beyond.

Destiny Islands would forever be a home that means everything to him.

To Sora.

No amount of passing time would have the love of this World treat him like a stranger. Beyond the countless faces that grew up with him, adored or even disliked him, the affairs of the waking world don't often touch the sanctity a World has for it's people. And in this very moment as he stands upon a grass laden hillside, a vivid view of the many towns peppering this island found itself clear in view before a sunset.

There were moments where this existence in itself was a marvel, a beauty of possibility that he can't help but watch. No longer were the secrets buried between an unspoken pact between friends, no, many were aware of exactly how far he, Kairi and Riku found themselves reaching beyond this world. How they, just like a certain boy hosted from old legends found themselves going beyond that precipice. That fact alone couldn't help but feel dizzying to Sora as his gaze edged from his hands, devoting itself to the pristine view ahead.

Home. A place where his purpose as a protector causes him to drift. It's a bittersweet feeling that wells up in him, how this place served as an indomitable rock deep down, always in his thoughts through the lens of good and bad experiences. Where it served as strength during his darkest hours, a quiet pride when he can offer the spirit of his birthland to others, to that nostalgic ache he'd wish to indulge upon now and again.

With a step taken upon those beaten paths, it'd be a whim of the Heart that he begins a simple trek. To join back in the humdrum of town and check up on old haunts, upon anything new that inspiration may have forged from a few familiar faces.

Sora knew words couldn't quite reflect the gratitude he holds for Destiny Islands. Even cataclysms of all shapes and sides edge every close, it never gives in, never allowing fear to sully its waters or strip the vitality from its land. Just as the isles itself felt pride for its humanity, the keybearer allowed that same energy to sing from his heart, an ode to the pride he has from being one of its children and turned into a brave man in his own right.

"Thank you, for everything."

His words shimmered in a way that drew beyond the unseen borders, akin to that very knight where sagely, innocent advice made him aware of how the Heart itself could be spoken too. This time that very response was for this World, and how it gave him and so many others he dearly loved a much needed chance. How that invaluable time was now tethers of light he can draw upon his own path.

And draw Sora did. Right now, those very lights trailed with etheric beauty behind him as another precious memory was being molded by the second.

He could feel a metaphysical radiance gently pushing at his back after such words, as if the tenderness touch this stalwart land found it was all too delighted to offer back that companionship to those who could truly hear it.

To think, it'd take all this for it to be truly realized.

A journey that has yet to end. One that Sora found himself determined to continue with a conviction that no primal force could truly shake. Even if it too found itself flourishing upon this isle.

[astrxlfinale]

Why does he always find himself gravitating in this very place? A land woven in whimsy, where shooting stars and a hopeful horizon serves as a piercing light. It burns away all creations likened to an artificial blaze, allowing it's glamor to not be a form of deception, rather, a scintillating hope for any who were to bear witness upon it's glory. Caelus couldn't help but find an ironic sort of beauty in this very thing.

Does that same definition persist if time didn't allow it to be fleeting?

The only thing that truly moves within this land is the bond of relationships; companions, friends, lovers, enemies, family, faith. A timeless dream is given that very breathe by the forces that naturally find themselves time's guidance. For one such wayfarer as this Trailblazer, this had him far from a familiar spot in Dream's edge. Rather, this particular haunt is one he made of his own volition. It was personally carved by personal taste and combat, the fading figures of the Dreamjolt serving as a comforting sign.

It allows him to situate upon the faux warmth of a building's ledge, legs dangling carefree as he lays back, giving a pointed glare of frustration to the dreamy heavens. Within the current instance, the brawler truly had no idea which face he should be making. The very fact that question consciously scrapes his mind warrants a problem, the searing, chilling, all too thorny sadness that finds itself plunged into the depths of his rib cage.

Her face appears once again. A brief and fleeting Firefly. The joyful aspiration of hope, the uncertainty cloaked underneath a supportive gaze, steps that intend to divert as much as they are to lead.

Caelus felt his teeth clench in this agonizing frustration of being so damn helpless.

All the same? It was the strangest feeling of having a particular situation isolate him from everything else, outside of new faces, new devilish deals, it'd be impossible to deny the fear that's slithering a serpent upon fresh prey.

"Why the hell couldn't any of us move.." Why did her dream have to robbed so horrifically?

"The fuck I even got all this power for if it's gonna be useless.." Amidst the burning ache from the spill of his tears, closing those very eyes would be a curse. Images dawned. Old specters that originally pushed him into restlessly moving, to do good to simulate actually saving her. Anything and everything simply felt better than allowing himself to remain stationary, to let inaction be the most beautiful ally to this raw shame of letting death claim her.

He's ashamed that even looking at their shared picture. A vivid image of contentment upon both of their phones made him struggle to resist breaking down, to have to keep it tucked away in archives the rawness in his heart wasn't prepared for.

It hurts.

'Why wouldn't you let me stick it out to the end.. Searching for what'cha had too. DAMN IT.' A struggle hand nearly caved the roof's foundation he settled on entirely, yet, the sheer lack of hard it helplessly flop back upon its location.

Now with doubt clouding his mind heavier than ever, the question dawns; exactly how do you find the strength in such situations? Free falling into an abyss of uncertainty, where the framework are the long held plans and gambits of others, how does he fucking move? Exactly where can he stomp his foot down upon the grounds of being an active force? Helpless, helpless, helpless crawled within his mind before the competence of others who roamed.

Trying to find that golden thread of trust felt like the biggest trial of all. ...Yet, he couldn't help but to find it so stupid as throat clenched as the tears continued to burn freely.

For the unknown asks him to trust in its very essence, and this time, in a defined state that all Trailblazers should aspire for. It's the very insurmountable castle he chips through day by day.

Yet as it stands right now, nothing but a looming anger and a very real fear grips at him.

Caelus hates it.