Kingdom Hearts fic: All Strange Wonders - Chapter 2

[mistressofmuses]

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Sora had promised Roxas he’d think about what he’d said, about whether Sora was truly happy in the shop. He hadn’t expected that he’d spend the next couple weeks unable to stop thinking about it.

And he’d come to a fairly unfortunate conclusion: he was not happy.

He didn’t hate working at Key and Blade. He felt satisfied when he finished a nice piece, or when someone was pleased with a purchase. But it wasn’t happiness. If anything, he felt trapped by inertia, unable to break free of the routine in which he’d been set. There wasn’t anything else he could do. Nowhere else he could go.

So he just kept working.

He’d bring his current pieces with him to the front of the shop, to give him something to work on in between helping customers. And he’d stay late after the shop had closed, just trying to finish a few more pieces, to make sure they never ran short. The late nights took their toll, and he found himself nodding off over the work sometimes.

That had happened the previous night, one knife in particular giving him trouble. He’d been working on it for most of the morning, and was finally satisfied.

“Sharp enough to cut right to the heart of things, aren’t you?” he said to the blade as he gently sheathed it.

The bell over the door jingled as someone stepped into the shop. Sora hurriedly set the knife down, embarrassed that a customer may have seen him talking to the wares.

The man wasn’t familiar. He was tall, and broad-shouldered. At first Sora thought he might be older, because his messy, shoulder-length hair was a silver so light it was near white. But like that stranger Sora had run into on the equinox, this man’s face looked young. His eyes were a startling gold.

“I’m looking for something,” he said. His voice was deep and rich, but something about it put Sora on edge.

“You’re welcome to look around,” Sora said, though he privately doubted they were likely to have anything the man would be interested in.

The man paced his way along the shelves. “Knives that would inspire confidence,” he said. Then he turned to stare at Sora. “For those who need it.” Said as if he’d certainly never lacked confidence in his life.

As he continued walking, he traced a finger over a paired lock and key. “These are trustworthy. How… provincial.”

Sora tried to push down a flare of minor annoyance. He was perfectly happy to help customers find what they were looking for, but that didn’t mean he wanted to stand around and listen to someone insult the wares. “Maybe a different store would have something more to your liking.” His voice was a bit cold, but he thought it was still civil enough.

“Are you always so cavalier?” the man asked. “Especially when you’re speaking to the Warlock of the Wasteland?”

Sora took a stumbling step backward from the counter, his breath freezing in his lungs. “What?”

“I don’t enjoy small little shopkeepers getting above their station.”

“I didn’t– I don’t know–” Sora tripped over his words. He didn’t even know what the man meant by that, but he knew he was in danger. If this was really the Warlock of the Wasteland…

“Perhaps it would be best if you were just… forgotten.” The man twisted his hand through the air.

Sora felt something happen, like everything went hot and cold at once, and something intangible pulled away from him.

“No one will remember you. No one will know your name.” A small, poisonous smile, and the Warlock let his hand fall back to his side. He turned towards the door. He paused with his hand on the knob, and then looked back over his shoulder. “And you won’t be able to tell anyone about it.”

---

Sora stood for a long moment after the Warlock of the Wasteland left. He tried to convince himself that maybe the man hadn’t really been who he claimed, had just been some stranger playing a cruel prank. But he knew that was wishful thinking. He could feel that something had happened.

Calmly, feeling numbly detached, he walked to the front of the shop and put up the closed sign. Then he stepped through the door. Glancing down the road, he saw a woman he knew.

“Jesse!” he waved and jogged a few steps toward her.

She glanced back, and there was no sense of recognition on her face. She smiled politely, but impersonally. “Yes? Have we met?”

He’d known Jesse all his life. She’d lived just a handful of houses away for years. “It’s S–” he tried to tell her his name, to remind her who he was, and it was like his throat closed on the word. He coughed, only managing to force air out, unable to pull any back in.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Bent nearly double he gasped, finally getting a lungful. He waved off her worried approach. “I’m sorry. My mistake. I’ll be fine.”

To Sora the message was perfectly clear: the curse had been very real, Sora couldn’t tell anyone about it, and that included an inability to say his name.

Turning away, Sora returned to the store. He didn’t know if Jesse was still staring. Ordinarily, that would have bothered him. But now it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like she knew him.

Sora grabbed the knife he’d just finished from its spot on the counter, and hooked it to his belt. He went out the back door of the shop and across the narrow courtyard to the house. His mother was out, buying materials for the store. A small thing to be grateful for. He couldn’t face the thought of her not knowing him. Of thinking he was some stranger walking into her house. Of her asking him who he was.

He didn’t have much to bring. He shoved a spare set of clothing into a bag. He collected some bread and apples from the kitchen, food that wouldn’t spoil as he carried it.

He still felt numb, but he knew one thing: he had to leave. He couldn’t face his mother, or any of the lifelong friends and neighbors that would see him as a stranger. Seeing Roxas, and his brother not recognizing him, would probably kill him. He was sorry he hadn’t seen Xion in the months since she’d left. He’d probably never see her again.

Those thoughts he pushed away, then shouldered his bag. He left the house and walked through the shop, locking the door behind him.

---

He headed east, out of Twilight Town. Leaving to the west would have required going through the town itself, potentially seeing more people that wouldn’t recognize him. Maybe even Roxas. The western road led ultimately to the coast, and while Sora would love to someday visit the sea, he didn’t know what he’d do there. So east it was, along the path that would eventually start to trend north through the valley.

It provided far fewer opportunities to run into other townsfolk, but unfortunately that wasn’t zero. He spotted Rai and Fuu coming into town, likely from visiting one of the farms beyond the outskirts.

Sora had never truly considered either of them to be friends, but they were long-term acquaintances. But as they passed, they barely even glanced at him.

He stopped and turned around. “Hey,” he said, almost as a test.

The two paused, turning toward him. Fuu nodded cordially, and Rai gave a slight twitch of his hand that could almost have been a wave, but they didn’t say anything else.

Sora almost left it at that, but… Nothing to lose if they don’t even know me.

“Hey, weird question, but have we met?”

They glanced at each other. Rai shrugged. Fuu shook her head. “No.”

“All right, thanks anyway.”

“It’s not like we know everyone in town, y’know? What’s your name?” Rai asked.

Sora wasn’t going to make that mistake again. “It’s not important. Sorry to bother you.”

He walked away before they could.

The eastern road wound away from the town, up into the hills, leading into the wide river valley that stretched more than half the length of the country.

The Warlock of the Wasteland had caught him early in the day, so he had plenty of time to get far away from the town. He wanted to put as much distance as possible between him and anyone he knew. He didn’t want to see another blank look of non-recognition on a loved one’s face.

The road went steadily uphill, which was extremely tiring after a few hours. Still, Sora had no intention of turning back. He stopped for lunch, and ate his way through a third of the loaf of bread he’d brought with him. It had seemed like an awful lot when he was taking it from the kitchen, but now realized it wouldn’t last him more than another day, if that. He had a little coin from working in the shop, though he hadn’t thought to take more than what had already been in his bag. Stupid. He hadn’t even tried to come up with a real plan. Typical.

Finally the road leveled out, winding between the hills rather than climbing them, though the road itself had become little more than a rutted dirt track. Even the hills themselves started to shrink, giving way to some of the larger farms and fields. If he went far enough, the hills would grow again, leading up to the enormously tall mountains rising dramatically in the distance, but Sora had no intention of having to deal with them. He’d make a turn toward the east now that he was in the broad valley. He wasn’t sure where he’d end up. Somewhere it would hurt less for no one to know him.

The snow-capped mountains certainly provided a striking backdrop. The freshly tilled farmland gave way to vast fields, full of clumps of early wildflowers and bright spring-green grass. The sun was out, with only a few light clouds along the horizon. It was a beautiful day if nothing else.

As soon as the sun set, the temperature dropped dramatically. He’d forgotten just how cold it got, even a few weeks into spring.

Sora pulled his short-sleeved jacket more tightly around his shoulders, but it did almost nothing to cut the chill. It had been more than enough for the warm, sunny day in Twilight Town, but was certainly not enough for the hills at night. Another thing he should have planned better. A small flicker of regret started in his chest, and he wished he hadn’t made such an impulsive decision to leave.

Though was it fair to call it impulsive when he had just been cursed? Maybe not, but he certainly should have spent a bit more time planning what to bring or where to go.

He squashed the regret down. He definitely couldn’t have stayed. It had hurt enough to see people like Jesse, Rai, and Fuu fail to recognize him. If it had been his mother? Or Roxas? Xion was less likely, but would be equally painful. He didn’t think he could bear seeing any of them.

But that didn’t make the hills or the night any warmer. And the dark was almost worse; the stars above were brighter than he ever remembered seeing, but there was no moon out tonight. He could barely see the road in front of him, and all he needed now was to blunder down a steep embankment, or into a tree.

In the middle distance across the valley, framed by a couple of the hills, he saw a gentle glow, maybe from distant windows. Maybe there is another farm out this way? I thought I’d passed through most of them already.

He indulged himself in a brief fantasy of a kindly farmer inviting him in out of the chilly night air, and offering him a bed for a few nights. Sora could do chores with the best of them, well-practiced from home and the shop, so he at least had that much to offer. And in this fantasy, it didn’t matter that he didn’t have a name.

In order for that to even have a chance of becoming reality, he’d have to make it to the farmhouse before they doused the lights for the night. There was no way he could hope to find the house without them.

He oriented himself toward them, and started walking that direction, even though it led him off the dubious road. He picked up his pace in the hope the exertion would keep him warm. If only he weren’t so tired. The walk now was even more difficult, without the hard dirt path to follow. The hills, with their rolling waves of grass, and periodic scrubby bushes, and stands of wildflowers, had been beautiful during the day. Now they were perpetual hazards, just waiting to trip him up. Worse, a thin layer of clouds had started to move in, dimming even the starlight from above.

Strangely, the farmhouse lights seemed to be approaching more quickly than expected. He was pushing himself, but he had no illusions about how efficient a walker he was. It had actually been a bit dismaying how little distance it seemed like he’d covered over the course of the day, so it seemed improbable that he was now traversing rougher ground, yet somehow going twice as fast.

He stopped to catch his breath, and the lights kept getting closer.

Sora clapped a hand to his mouth, stifling an instinctive yell. Of course.

Because of course he would put himself on the path toward something and it would turn out to be the Heartless Sorcerer’s castle. What other luck could he possibly have?

For the second time, Sora seriously considered turning back, returning to Twilight Town. And… what? What could he possibly do there? No name, no past that anyone remembered. There was no way his heart would survive an attempt to pretend he was a stranger, starting a new life in the same town and surrounded by the same people. Every time he saw his family, his friends, or his neighbors, it would kill him a little more.

But wouldn’t the Heartless Sorcerer and his impossible castle just be a quicker death? Maybe Sora’s heart wouldn’t break, and would instead just be eaten.

Sora had had more than enough of any magic-users. But… the Warlock had laid the curse on him. Wouldn’t another magic-user, even another evil one, be the best chance for him to lift it?

He took a breath, and steeled himself. He would not run away. He kept walking toward the lights, and the lights kept approaching him.

Then it began to rain. Just a light drizzle, but enough to turn the night from chilly to downright miserable.

Sora did start to run, but toward the castle, not away. The castle continued its own progression, speed entirely unaffected by the change in the weather. Finally, their paths collided.

The castle was levitating, floating just a couple feet above the field, and Sora had to leap up onto a stair in front of the door. The castle continued moving.

He had a visceral memory of a day with Roxas and Xion, the three of them running and jumping up onto the back of a cart heading down Market Street. They did that often, hitching a ride into the Common when they didn’t want to walk the whole way.

Maybe the practice doing that allowed him to make it onto the castle’s stairs on the first try.

The door was almost disconcertingly normal. Not what he would expect from an enchanted castle, not that he’d given it much thought. But he would have anticipated something grander. Standing on the single step, while the ground moved at a steady pace below him, felt a bit disorienting. He brushed it off and knocked.

There was no answer, but he tried to wait politely. Perhaps the sorcerer was asleep? Did Sora really want to wake him in the middle of the night? Everyone knew to avoid the Heartless Sorcerer at all cost, under the best of circumstances. How much worse could he be when annoyed? And what would be inside the place? Sora imagined scenes of butchery; a charnel house belonging to a man who ate the hearts of young men and women.

But it was still raining. And the castle’s lights were on.

Sora bit his lip and knocked again. When there was still no answer, he tried the handle. It was locked. And it was still raining. Somehow it was the locked door that tipped Sora from nervous to annoyed. Instead of knocking politely a third time, he pounded on the door, slamming the side of his fist into the wood, almost hard enough to bruise.

The answering click was loud enough he could feel it through the wood. No one opened the door, so Sora tried the knob again. This time it turned.

Sora cautiously poked his head through the doorway and looked around the small room. There was no one there. Strange, since someone had clearly unlocked the door. He took a slow step into the room, certain he was walking into some sort of trap. The sorcerer was “Heartless” right? Setting a trap for a hapless wanderer wouldn’t be unexpected.

It was dark inside, darker than Sora had expected from the light in the windows. Then again, anything would have seemed bright against the total darkness outside. The dim light was probably doing the room a favor; Sora could see piles of clutter overrunning every surface, threatening to collapse at the slightest provocation.

There was another wave of temptation to flee, this deserted room somehow more frightening than the horrors Sora had imagined. Then he shivered, and the memory of the cold rain outside chased the temptation away. The source of the light was a fire burning on a raised hearth on the opposite side of the room. Even burning as low as it was, the promised warmth drew him forward.

At least the floor between the piles of junk was mostly clear of debris, despite being in dire need of a good sweeping, so Sora didn’t trip over anything as he crossed the room. There was even a chair placed in an ideal spot to enjoy the warmth of the fire, and he sank into it gratefully.

The fire, on a stone hearth built up to about knee-height, was a bit strange, though not more so than the magic castle itself. But it was shaped differently than normal fire, a few feet wide, despite the overall dimness of its light, and with odd gradients of color in the flames themselves. Then again, why would he have expected the fire in a sorcerer’s castle to appear normal?

He shut his eyes with a sigh, forcibly reminding himself who specifically owned the castle he’d just broken into. Is it breaking in, when the door unlocked itself? Regardless, what would he even say when the Heartless Sorcerer found him?

That was a problem for when it happened. He’d think of something. Or he wouldn’t, and he’d regret not planning ahead. Again.

The light against his closed eyelids changed, and he startled back to alertness. The fire itself was shifting, almost rolling toward him. He pushed upright in the chair, despite knowing there was nothing he could do if this was the trap he’d been waiting for. The fire attacking him: what a way to go. At least no one would remember him to miss him.

But the fire didn’t actually get any closer. It continued to shift, and then to sit up.

The fire was a young woman. Or… it was still a fire. But it was shaped like a young woman. Her ‘skin’ was made of pale gold flames, while more orangey flame made the suggestion of a dress. Darker red fire looked like wavering hair, while two deeper purple spots burned like eyes in her ‘face.’ Her ‘head’ cocked to the side, the purple flames facing toward him, as if she were staring at him.

As tired as he was, Sora didn’t think he was quite at the point of hallucination, and considering the magical nature of this place, the fire-girl was probably real.

“Hi,” he managed to choke out. “I’m S-” That was as far as he got before he was actually choking.

The fire just kept looking at him until he was able to force air back into his lungs and catch his breath.

“That’s a bummer of a curse,” she said.

Her voice was pretty, though with a hint of snapping fire underneath it. He thought it would be a pleasant voice to hear laugh. The words themselves sounded a bit teasing, but not mean.

“You can tell I’m cursed?” he asked, before he thought better of it. The words didn’t catch in his throat, and he knew his expression probably showed his relief. “And I was even able to say it!”

“Takes one to know one, I suppose,” she answered. “Most curses, contracts, and geasa have a clause to that effect. As long as everyone involved in a conversation knows about the curse, they can talk about it. It’s only when you try to tell someone who doesn’t already know that it strangles you on your own tongue.”

“My name is-” he tried again, but this time couldn’t even make it to the first letter before it was like something crushed his throat.

The fire girl sighed as he choked. The sigh sounded like the crackle of dry wood going up in flame. “My name is Kairi. And I know that you’re under a curse, but I don’t know your name, which is apparently part of that curse. Sorry.”

When the Warlock’s curse finally relaxed enough to let him breathe, he asked, “Can you help break it, Kairi?”

She shook her head. “I’m more the type who…” she hesitated. “…Makes deals. And I’m not completely free to do any of that right now. Unstructured magic like laying and breaking curses isn’t really my specialty. Maybe Riku could.”

“Riku?”

“The sorcerer who owns this castle.”

Sora couldn’t remember ever having heard that the sorcerer had a name. Everyone just called him “The Heartless Sorcerer.”

“And I can’t just make a deal with you?” Sora asked. His eyelids were growing a bit heavy, and he tried to sit up a little straighter. The chair itself was comfortable, which wasn’t helping him to stay awake.

“I told you. I’m not free to… Hmm.” She looked thoughtful, if that was a thing fire could do. “You see, I’m currently locked into a contract of sorts with Riku. If I were to be let out of that contract, I might have a better chance at breaking your curse. Of course, it wouldn’t be easy to break my contract. You’d have to figure out what exactly the terms are first of all, and then find out how to break the contract itself. Naturally I’m not allowed to tell you directly. Kind of like you aren’t allowed to tell anyone about yours.”

“Sounds like a deal after all. I break your curse, you break mine?” Sora asked.

A dry crackle of sparks signifying a short laugh. “Maybe it is a deal. Calling my contract a curse is a bit harsh, but yes, I suppose that is what I’m hoping for. Or you can try your luck with Riku. Maybe he will be able to get rid of that curse for you.”

That was what Sora had come here for, wasn’t it? Hoping one evil sorcerer could remove the work of another. He was starting to second-guess that plan. “Do you think I should ask him? I’m not sure I want the Heartless Sorcerer knowing that I’m under a curse.”

Kairi hummed to herself, which also sounded like a fire flaring up. “Riku is rather heartless. But as you know, it’s not like you’d be able to tell him outright. He isn’t the most observant, but it’s possible he’ll notice on his own.”

Sora was slumping farther down in the well-padded chair again. Despite the comfortable seat, and the warmth from Kairi, he should have been wide awake. There was a beautiful woman made of fire talking to him about a sorcerer that Sora was terrified of. Plus the two of them were currently his best chance at lifting the curse. Somehow, he could feel himself drifting off.

“Ha,” he heard faintly. “There’s some gratitude. Sleep well, I guess.”

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