#Eraqus x Xehanort | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miss-tc-nova · 4 months

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Faults to Light - Eraqus x Xehanort

This is my piece of the @shatteredestiny-zine which I'm ever honored to be invited back to. It's really a hit to the imposter syndrome with how many amazing people worked on this. But enjoy my angst!

Art by our our amazing bishop and knight mods: Triton and Saphy!

Triton: @princess-triton & princesstriton

Saphy: @saph-y & SaphySushi

Premise: Sometimes the light is just as bad as the darkness

Words: 2,540

Music Inspiration: So Much (For) Stardust by Fall Out Boy

~~~~~

Gray eyes gaze into the mirror. Lungs rattle his chest in spite of efforts. A white-knuckle grip on the porcelain sink relents to shove the black hair from his face.

He didn’t imagine it.

Across his cheek lies skin welting where the stone struck him. That’s not unusual—a common hazard of keyblade training. But the gash weeping liquid light is not.

Fear seeps into his brain. He frantically wipes the anomaly from his face and presses a patch against the wound. There. Peering back at his reflection, all appears as it rightfully should. A practiced smile slips across his lips and the young man ventures out to go about his day.

There’s nothing wrong.

Black boots meet the white stone, clicking step by step through the citadel on his way to greet his master.

This place of light hasn’t changed at all, still just as wearing on a wayward heart as always. While he can’t expect a world to alter its ways in a single year, Xehanort’s views have changed a lot. Worlds vast and varied revealed their secrets as he traveled, yet one thing remained the same everywhere he went: darkness masquerading as light. Such a familiar farce frustrated him to no end, but he couldn’t blame darkness’s tricks beneath light’s overwhelming existence. That didn’t make the dark bad or the light good; that turned out to be a false notion of those raised in light’s influence. Rather, these forces must exist together or not at all. So in the end, Xehanort returned with fewer questions than he had when he left, but gained one far more existential.

What was his purpose?

Those uncertainties aren’t borne before his teacher, left instead to fester in his own skull. Still, he’s praised for his journey’s outcome and instructed to rest until the day of his Mark of Mastery exam. Now row upon row of honorary stones pass him by until, finally, he comes across the collection of names he meant to find. He’s surprised to find lilies adorning each one, but only one culprit comes to mind.

“About time you came to visit.”

Further along the path strolls the man he was most eager to see. Gray eyes spark with delight, the usual fool’s grin stretching wide on his face. However, in spite of his elation, pulses of distress crash against Xehanort’s heart. There’s something wrong with Eraqus.

Still, Xehanort lets a smirk twist his lips. “I had things to do, unlike some slacker I know.”

His friend feigns insult. “Slacker? Me? Never!”

Painful laughter rings between them. The catch up isn’t as easy as it should be. Though they speak freely, Xehanort’s thoughts are clouded with conflict.

“So yeah, mom says once I pass the Mark of Mastery exam, I’ll inherit grandpa’s keyblade.”

“That’s awesome. I’m sure he’d be proud.”

Eraqus beams. “Man, I hope so. What about you? Did you find what you were looking for out there?”

Xehanort’s eyes avert, his mind struggling to answer that particular question.

“Are you still blaming yourself?” At Era’s new query, Xe’s eyes focus, reading the name of the blonde they used to know. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He knows those useless words are true; there’s nothing Xehanort could have done to change the outcome. Even so, there’s more to the story than what they suffered.

Not to Eraqus though. “If anything, what happened was because of the darkness.”

Musings slip from Xehanort’s mouth. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Huh?”

Xehanort hesitates—this conversation won’t be easy. “The light is just as much to blame as darkness.”

That frown was inevitable. “No. It was darkness that possessed Baldr.”

“Because the light left him vulnerable,” Xe retorts. “We were taught that the purpose of a keyblade wielder was to destroy darkness. So how do you think he felt knowing he had darkness in his heart? That he was weak? How could he not give in?”

Xehanort searches for the right words that might finally convince his best friend to open his mind.

“Do you think that made him a bad person?”

Ebony brows furrow. “No. The darkness did.”

Pain pricks at Xehanort’s heart. Perhaps Eraqus would never understand.

“After all that happened, are you telling me you would trust the darkness?” Eraqus demands.

His answer is honest. “Maybe.”

Eraqus’s look of betrayal is like looking at a stranger. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”

“What?!”

“Darkness killed our friends! What part of that don’t you understand?!”

A wince contorts that fair face, palm pressed against the bandage. Though in the midst of an argument, Xehanort can’t help his concern.

“Are you okay?”

He should’ve expected Eraqus to swat away his attempt to reach out. “Don’t touch me!”

Obeying his wish, Xehanort lets his hand fall. “Look, all I’m trying to say is that maybe the light isn’t as noble as we were taught.”

Eraqus’s eyes burn with a hatred never seen before. “And the darkness is?! You want me to let it into my heart?! To let it take over and kill people like it did my family?! Because that’s what darkness does! It takes and destroys and it ruins lives! Is that what you want me to be?!”

“No. That’s not what I—”

His words are cut by the keyblade slicing the air. Though it misses Xehanort by the smallest margin, it cracks the concrete it meets instead—that swing was lethal.

“I’m not weak like you!”

Eraqus swings again, this time parried by Xehanort’s own keyblade and bringing about an instinctive retaliation. Xehanort’s weapon falls across Eraqus’s shoulder, sending his opponent to the ground. A wave of regret immediately crashes against Xehanort seeing his friend clutching at the injury.

“Era—!”

It drips between clenched fingers. Glimmering liquid collects on the pavement, each drop adding to the horror that this is coming from Eraqus. There’s something wrong with Eraqus.

Xehanort’s voice comes out hushed. “What is that?”

In stumbling to his feet, Eraqus keeps his head down. “It’s nothing.”

He tries to walk away, but a hand snags the white fabric.

“Wait!”

“WHAT?!”

Xehanort stutters back. Beneath his friend’s voice lies a monster’s. In Eraqus’s eyes sparks a light, seeping through and consuming every fleck of dark pigment in the gray.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!”

This time Xehanort’s voice fails.

It starts in the roots, the light sprouting in Eraqus’s hair—intent on erasing everything dark about him.

Unlike Xehanort, Eraqus has plenty of words. “If darkness didn’t exist, we wouldn’t be standing among our friend’s graves! They would still be here and you wouldn’t be deluded! There would be no more wars, no more suffering! Everything wrong with this world is darkness’s fault! And if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll destroy it!”

Another grimace leaves him clutching at his head. Light from the open wound surges, enveloping Eraqus and leaving Xehanort to shield his eyes.

What’s left behind when the light fades still resembles the young wielder yet somehow angelic and monstrous at the same time. Alabaster skin stretches across a gnarled, hunched frame, gangly arms dragging knuckles across the ground. Golden veins appear like cracks in porcelain, perfect skin. Draped around a gaunt waist sits ivory fabric while chains of gold wind around the creature like the memory of a victim. An ornate halo, just as a crown too heavy to bear, hangs above a bowed head. However, by far the most intimidating feature of this massive being are the triplet pair of wings, raised high in all their glory.

Molten gold in place of silver brings a violent intensity to that placid face. As it stares him down, primal fear rattles Xehanort’s compromised heart—he just knows that this beast exists to extinguish sins.

“The darkness must perish!” That is no longer Eraqus’s voice. “THE DARKNESS MUST DIE!”

The demon is fast, nearly bludgeoning Xehanort in the head. Keyblade raised, he braces to defend himself, but is sorely prepared for the sheer power behind that deceitful physique. The collision with a tombstone takes his breath away but another flying fist leaves him no chance to recoup. Somehow, Xehanort manages to skirt around the creature, finding his opening to strike with all he has. It doesn’t even stumble.

An otherworldly cry splits the air as it turns to tower over him. With no other recourse, Xehanort bolts. Heavy, thrumming steps of pursuit flood his brain with terror, causing him to flee deeper into the city. In his way, people scream and scatter but still the crashing grows ever closer until he’s certain it’s right behind him.

All goes quiet, giving cause to peer back. Racing boots slow to a stop. It’s gone.

Then the shadow descends on him. His body seizes in fear and the monster’s full weight bears down on him. Caught in the angel’s clutches, Xehanort endures a thrashing worse than even the darkness that started this mess.

One final swing sends the victim flying. Wooden planks of the dock crack, eager to pass Xehanort to the sea before they crumple under the force. Water hits like concrete, bouncing the man far from the shore before it swallows him up.

Cool ocean water welcomes Xehanort into the dark, his resolve shaken. If that’s light’s power, taking to the dark really is the only option for the weak. Training never could’ve prepared him and even if it had, this was Eraqus. Putting down Baldr was hard enough, but Xehanort could have every chance and still be unsure he’d make that choice against his best friend.

The light above wavers. A shadow reaches through his entombment to take hold of him. When the water breaks, clean air fills his lungs once again. Concentrated magic beneath his feet gains Xehanort purchase on the water’s surface and, when he’s able to hold his own weight, the grip relents.

A man stands at his side—a stranger wearing a familiar black coat. Though that face remains unseen, there’s an air of expectancy about him.

On ivory wings, the Sin Eater arrives. To his surprise, trails of light trace the demon’s face, dripping from those golden eyes. Though he may look different—though he may stand against Xehanort—this is still his best friend.

Xehanort looks back to his savior. In solemn agreement, he nods.

Another screech fills the air and the clash begins again. This time, Xehanort has the composure to remain calm. And the stranger—he’s strong. His fighting covers Xehanort’s every weakness and together they chip away at the angel.

Narrowly missing Xehanort, another blow leaves him on the back foot. He braces for the follow up only for the attack to make contact with a barrier instead. Seething, the creature turns, knocking the surprised stranger back. Then it goes for the kill.

Xehanort surges forward, his keyblade hooking the monster’s foot. It takes all his might, but he topples his foe. He offers a helping hand to his ally but it goes untaken. To his dismay, the stranger rushes past, intent on putting down the vulnerable creature.

Xehanort reaches out. “Wait!”

Without warning, light bursts from the beast. The ensuing explosion throws back the attackers and brings a new weight of power to the behemoth that, until then, had only used physical force.

“How could you choose the darkness?” It speaks to Xehanort. Even as wings spread high in defiance, its head hangs low. “After all it did to us?”

Xehanort’s shoulders slump. “I’m not choosing sides.”

“LIAR! YOU LEFT ME!” A knurled fist meets the water’s surface. “I tried so hard to show you the right way, but I lost you too! I LOST EVERYTHING!”

For Eraqus, continuing to be a keyblade wielder was meant to ease his own suffering. He sought light’s strength to protect the things he cared about, but in the end, it all slipped right through his fingers. And though Xehanort’s own heart bore witness to that truth, he chose to follow the fool’s lead and pretend all was fine.

Xehanort is barely of the right mind to raise his weapon and stop that palm from taking his skull. Beneath his feet, the magic starts to give, but he holds his ground. Then those fingers curl around his weapon, ripping it free and leaving the defenseless wielder to be snatched into the air.

“I’m sick of being a victim! I’m sick of losing people I care about!” Another shining tear drips from his face. “I’m sick of it!”

There’s something wrong with Eraqus.

And it’s gone on long enough.

“I know! And I’m going to fix it!”

The angel hesitates. Eyes slightly darker—slightly more Eraqus—peer up at him, filled with despair and conflict. It floods Xehanort with guilt that he didn’t act sooner.

“No matter what it takes. I promise.”

Acceptance sits weary on that face and the crushing grip loosens as it brings Xehanort lower.

A black shadow flashes beside him, driving a hand right into the Sin Eater’s chest.

“NO!”

Blinding light pours across the fighters as the sound of pain shakes the air. Xehanort falls to the water’s surface as the demon writhes in agony. Before Xehanort can do anything, the stranger bars his path. He prepares for another fight, but first notices the change. Feathers float away on the ocean breeze. As sheer size begins to wither, color eeks across ivory skin. When the angel finally collapses, what’s left behind is wholly Eraqus.

There’s no holding Xehanort back a second time as he pushes past to save his friend from the water. Like ink, the black bleeds through those wavy locks. The last of the liquid light oozes from the gash in his chest, giving way to the deep ruby it should be.

Though Eraqus appears to have returned, there’s something different about him. It’s nearly undetectable, but it’s there: the darkness tainting his heart. Silver eyes slip back to the stranger. Without him, perhaps the last of his family would’ve been lost.

“Thank you.”

The figure shrugs, shoves his hands in his pockets, and strolls away.

“Consider it a courtesy.”

Memories of an old friend snare Xehanort’s heart. But that’s not possible. He must’ve imagined it.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Xehanort lifts the unconscious man into his arms and hurries back to the city.

Not a soul ever learned what happened to the beast that ran rampant through the city or where it came from. So Scala ad Caelum continued on with life, being a place where keyblade warriors learned the ways of light.

Eraqus, too, remained the same, blindly devoted to the light. His foolish façade managed to survive the ordeal as well simply due to the coma that left him unaware of the terrible ordeal. Xehanort would keep it that way, if only to spare them both the burden of Eraqus’s grief.

The one thing that did change, however, was the answer to Xehanort’s question.

There’s something wrong with the world. The light held too much power. It warped the view of those it led and caused the darkness to lash out in fear. Balance was needed for a perfect world where peace was meaningful.

And it was Xehanort’s purpose to fix it.

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