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Day Thirty-Six
Jul. 3rd, 2017 02:10 amDay Thirty-Six.
Foreteller Gula is already waiting at the fountain when Eden arrives, with his Text open in one hand. As Eden approaches, with the rest of his dorm-mates trailing behind him and his Chirithy in his hair, he sees the Foreteller look up, although he keeps the book open.
“Eden, right? Your Chirithy informs me that he believes you’re ready for this test,” the Foreteller says, giving Eden a once over. “If you succeed, I’ll authorise you to utilise the Lanes Between and travel between other worlds. Failure will mean you return to training, until such a time as I see fit.”
“Sure, sure,” Eden says, waving a hand. “So, what does the test involve?”
Gula cracks a quick smile. “I tailor these tests to each keybearer that passes through Leopardos. Given what happened when you arrived, it was easy to figure out what yours should be.”
He skims a hand over the page of his Text, and waves it at the air. At first, there’s just a blur in the air, a shapeless distortion, before it stretches up, becoming more solid until it looms like a humanoid bubble over the fountain square. It holds its spot for a moment, before its transparency turns black, like ink pouring into water.
It’s the Heartless that Eden encountered on his first day, Eden realises. Or a copy of it, at least.
“This Darkside followed you into town,” Gula says. “There are Heartless in this town, but until it appeared, none had strayed out of the depths beneath the town. Whether you drew it here or if it was unfortunate timing, it was certainly a -- unique turn of events.”
Gula shuts his Text. “This is only a copy. A replica summoned through the Book of Prophecies. But it’ll do.”
Eden takes a step closer to the still Darkside, lifting a hand, brushing his fingers over the shadows. He can’t feel any difference between this and the Heartless that attacked him in town. If it’s a copy, it’s a perfect one.
“So, I have to defeat it?”
“How you defeat it is as important as whether you can,” Gula says. “This is a test of your competency, after all, not your raw power.”
He snaps his fingers, and the copy starts to move, stretching shadowy arms and stubby legs.
“Begin!”
---
The Darkside is slow, but it has its ways of making up for that: Balls of shadow that curve and track Eden’s movements, arcing about to converge on him; pools of darkness spreading from where it hands land, miring Eden if he lands in them; clusters of searing, brilliantly violet beams of light; showers of sparks that scorch his skin and nearly blind him.
Eden darts about, this way and that, dancing from rooftop to rooftop as the Darkside tries to corral him into corners with its barrage of attacks. When he can, he leaps in, delivering a few quick slashes with his keyblade, then swinging out of of its reach.
It’s while he’s trying to close the distance that the Darkside corners him, trapping him between two pools of darkness, firing off a flurry of beams, screeching towards Eden, turning the air incandescent.
He huffs out a split second sigh. “Fine, then.”
It isn’t until he drops it that he realises how exhausting the act of Eden Llyx had been. The smile slides off his face; he straightens from Eden’s languid slouch, tipping his chin up; he lets his free arm fall loose and still by his side.
He adjusts his grip on his keyblade, just a little, just enough to be allow for finer control, mimicking how Foreteller Gula holds his own blade. That’s almost as liberating as the rest of it: That dropping Eden means he can drop all of his little, novice flaws, the ones that a month of training should have ironed out.
He snaps his keyblade into the path of each beam, letting them burn across its filigreed edge and then ricochet back towards the Darkside, one by one. The explosions are forceful enough to shatter the windows of the building he’s standing on.
He taps his foot against the roof, testing how solid it is, then pushes off, picking up speed as he rockets past the Darkside. He skids as he lands, driving the tip of his keyblade down into the cobblestones to slow himself down.
As a glimmering line appears across its stomach, bisecting it, the Darkside fades into a cloud of black smoke.
Eden forces the lopsided smile back onto his face, slouches slightly, and stuffs his hands into his pockets as he turns.
“So, that’s a pass, right? Because he was all ’rawr, I’mma gonna eat’cha’ and I was all ‘I shall defeat you!’ and he was all ‘behold, my most powerful technique!’ and ‘pew, pew, pew’ and I was all -- …”
“We’ll call it a provisional pass, depending on how you perform on your first few missions,” Foreteller Gula says.
Out of the corner of his eye, Eden sees Luso, Izana, Freyra, and Adelle all give him double thumbs up, as Queen adjusts her glasses and Alvis folds his arms.
“The mission boards will be updated tomorrow. Feel free to take any lessons at your leisure,” Foreteller Gula tells him, giving him a quick nod. “You’ve tapped into the power of the keyblade. Lesser foes may stand no chance against you, but for more powerful ones, you must combine your strength with those who share your purpose and aspirations.
“Remember, there may be others who collect the light, but not all of them share our goals of bringing peace to the world. You must be wary of those who walk a path of darkness. Dismissed.”
---
There’s an accessory store, the Mog O’Glory, a few streets west of the fountain square. On the chimney, legs dangling over the edge, is a Chirithy, watching the keybearers meander towards the ice cream shop, cheering and congratulating Eden.
“Fine, then,” it murmurs, standing and stretching its legs. With a puff of smoke, it vanishes.
Foreteller Gula is already waiting at the fountain when Eden arrives, with his Text open in one hand. As Eden approaches, with the rest of his dorm-mates trailing behind him and his Chirithy in his hair, he sees the Foreteller look up, although he keeps the book open.
“Eden, right? Your Chirithy informs me that he believes you’re ready for this test,” the Foreteller says, giving Eden a once over. “If you succeed, I’ll authorise you to utilise the Lanes Between and travel between other worlds. Failure will mean you return to training, until such a time as I see fit.”
“Sure, sure,” Eden says, waving a hand. “So, what does the test involve?”
Gula cracks a quick smile. “I tailor these tests to each keybearer that passes through Leopardos. Given what happened when you arrived, it was easy to figure out what yours should be.”
He skims a hand over the page of his Text, and waves it at the air. At first, there’s just a blur in the air, a shapeless distortion, before it stretches up, becoming more solid until it looms like a humanoid bubble over the fountain square. It holds its spot for a moment, before its transparency turns black, like ink pouring into water.
It’s the Heartless that Eden encountered on his first day, Eden realises. Or a copy of it, at least.
“This Darkside followed you into town,” Gula says. “There are Heartless in this town, but until it appeared, none had strayed out of the depths beneath the town. Whether you drew it here or if it was unfortunate timing, it was certainly a -- unique turn of events.”
Gula shuts his Text. “This is only a copy. A replica summoned through the Book of Prophecies. But it’ll do.”
Eden takes a step closer to the still Darkside, lifting a hand, brushing his fingers over the shadows. He can’t feel any difference between this and the Heartless that attacked him in town. If it’s a copy, it’s a perfect one.
“So, I have to defeat it?”
“How you defeat it is as important as whether you can,” Gula says. “This is a test of your competency, after all, not your raw power.”
He snaps his fingers, and the copy starts to move, stretching shadowy arms and stubby legs.
“Begin!”
The Darkside is slow, but it has its ways of making up for that: Balls of shadow that curve and track Eden’s movements, arcing about to converge on him; pools of darkness spreading from where it hands land, miring Eden if he lands in them; clusters of searing, brilliantly violet beams of light; showers of sparks that scorch his skin and nearly blind him.
Eden darts about, this way and that, dancing from rooftop to rooftop as the Darkside tries to corral him into corners with its barrage of attacks. When he can, he leaps in, delivering a few quick slashes with his keyblade, then swinging out of of its reach.
It’s while he’s trying to close the distance that the Darkside corners him, trapping him between two pools of darkness, firing off a flurry of beams, screeching towards Eden, turning the air incandescent.
He huffs out a split second sigh. “Fine, then.”
It isn’t until he drops it that he realises how exhausting the act of Eden Llyx had been. The smile slides off his face; he straightens from Eden’s languid slouch, tipping his chin up; he lets his free arm fall loose and still by his side.
He adjusts his grip on his keyblade, just a little, just enough to be allow for finer control, mimicking how Foreteller Gula holds his own blade. That’s almost as liberating as the rest of it: That dropping Eden means he can drop all of his little, novice flaws, the ones that a month of training should have ironed out.
He snaps his keyblade into the path of each beam, letting them burn across its filigreed edge and then ricochet back towards the Darkside, one by one. The explosions are forceful enough to shatter the windows of the building he’s standing on.
He taps his foot against the roof, testing how solid it is, then pushes off, picking up speed as he rockets past the Darkside. He skids as he lands, driving the tip of his keyblade down into the cobblestones to slow himself down.
As a glimmering line appears across its stomach, bisecting it, the Darkside fades into a cloud of black smoke.
Eden forces the lopsided smile back onto his face, slouches slightly, and stuffs his hands into his pockets as he turns.
“So, that’s a pass, right? Because he was all ’rawr, I’mma gonna eat’cha’ and I was all ‘I shall defeat you!’ and he was all ‘behold, my most powerful technique!’ and ‘pew, pew, pew’ and I was all -- …”
“We’ll call it a provisional pass, depending on how you perform on your first few missions,” Foreteller Gula says.
Out of the corner of his eye, Eden sees Luso, Izana, Freyra, and Adelle all give him double thumbs up, as Queen adjusts her glasses and Alvis folds his arms.
“The mission boards will be updated tomorrow. Feel free to take any lessons at your leisure,” Foreteller Gula tells him, giving him a quick nod. “You’ve tapped into the power of the keyblade. Lesser foes may stand no chance against you, but for more powerful ones, you must combine your strength with those who share your purpose and aspirations.
“Remember, there may be others who collect the light, but not all of them share our goals of bringing peace to the world. You must be wary of those who walk a path of darkness. Dismissed.”
There’s an accessory store, the Mog O’Glory, a few streets west of the fountain square. On the chimney, legs dangling over the edge, is a Chirithy, watching the keybearers meander towards the ice cream shop, cheering and congratulating Eden.
“Fine, then,” it murmurs, standing and stretching its legs. With a puff of smoke, it vanishes.
