Chapter Three


The cloaked man simply nodded, his blue eyes locked on Alice.

“I thought you were, y’know,” Roxas stammered.

“Dead?” Demyx offered. “Well he got you too, didn’t he? And you’re still here.”

Roxas tilted his head, confused. “Wait, who got me? And what do you mean by ‘here?’ Do you know where ‘here’ is!?”

“So many questions, Roxas!” the other man laughs. “I thought you’d be happy to see me. You’ve been gone too long, buddy. Don’t you remember Agrabah?”

Demyx’s question was met with silence, so he pressed onward instead.

“So, you don’t remember anything, do you, Roxas?”

Before Roxas had even opened his mouth to answer, Alice spoke up. “Why do you keep calling him that? If Sora is no longer Sora, than Wonderland really doesn’t have logic or rules at all, now.”

“Sora!” Demyx spat, shuddering. “He’s the one that did this, y’know.”

Now it was Roxas’ turn to become angry, his voice raised in Sora’s defence. Even his keyblade flashed into his hands. “What do you mean, he did this? It wasn’t Sora, it was… it was–“

“If you can’t remember your past, you can’t remember what Sora did to you, Roxas,” Demyx interrupted. “You fought Sora and lost, buddy!”

Oblivion fell from the keyholder’s hands, dropping to the lush grass with a muffled thump. Roxas’ mouth hung open, and even Alice gasped.

“I fought Sora?” he whispered, looking down at the keyblade.

Sora. Oblivion. And… an oath? Have I kept it?

Shards of memories pieced themselves together.

Riku. I fought him, too. But I won.

“Yes Roxas, you fought Sora,” Demyx said. “So did I. So did we all.”

“And you,” Roxas mumbled. “You were defeated, too?”

Demyx only nodded.

“And, and the others, too?”

Another solemn nod from the Melodious Nocturne.

“How?” Roxas breathed.

“We all fought him alone, Roxas,” Demyx explained. He had lost his care-free mannerisms in his final battle with the wielder of the keyblade, his mood now dark and sombre. “We came at Sora one by one, and so he defeated us: one by one.”

Unbeknownst to either of the Nobodies, Alice had slipped away, off to a surprise un-birthday party.

“Together, though,” Demyx began, his voice growing stronger. “Together we can beat him. The thirteen of us can beat him if we join forces once more.”

A line of Dancers moved nimbly behind their master, spinning in a circle about the pair.

“So what do you say, Roxas, buddy?”

The End

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