#ira’s relationship with gula was never really repaired which is why he comments on that first before noticing gula’s wounds.

[iceepsy]

The Keyblade War. Part 5. The end.

The last is Ira. A world of forgotten dreams.

Edit: had to remove the links

With that last strike, shale crushing bone, Ira knows that the war is over. It’s in his gut. It’s in the way the wind silently blows through, echoing the deep canyon, mocking him. It’s in the look - the hurt - on Aced’s face as the boulders fell. It’s in the last words he exchanged with Invi, brisk and professional. It’s in the last glances he shared with Gula and Ava before they all parted ways.

Ira’s breath hitches; Aced’s face rings of shock. It’s unforgivable; he let his anger overtake him. He immediately regretted his actions, but now, he can only accept the consequences. He closes Aced’s eyes and mouths a prayer to whichever god or master listening. How much darkness must be in his heart for him to kill an old friend? Never had he thought the hours (days, years) he spent pouring over the book of prophecies would amount to this ending. Ira carefully moves the cracked conglomerate crushing Aced and gingerly lifts him up, throwing his companion’s arm around his shoulder. He’s reminded of those years ago, seeing the brawnier man clutching against the brick and mortar buildings of Daybreak Town. “Gula,” Aced whispered, “has known all along there was a traitor.” Even Gula’s obsession and methodical examination of the lost page was unable to prevent this tragedy.

“The darkness will prevail and the light will expire.” The Master was right. As he always was, despite his eccentric ways.

Aced’s limp despite Ira’s grip. He can only hope the others made it out alive. He has to believe even when faced against such a miniscule probability. He has to believe. To keep his light. That said, he tries to ignore the piled bodies of the keyblade warriors, some even younger than Ava and Gula, littering the landscape. 

Ira finds Ava in a cove, not far from his fight with Aced. At first, he saw pink, relieved she was only resting. He hobbles towards her while half-carting half-hauling Aced. He whispers another prayer for defacement of the dead. Upon closer examination, his head peaking into the crevice, Ira’s heart breaks. Ava sits against the wall, her head limply flopping forward. Only half of her treasured mask rests precariously in her open palm. The other half must have long since been destroyed. He tries lifting her head in hopes for a small miracle. For Ava to stir. Instead, he’s met with the sight of her pained expression and the feeling of slight resistance from her contracted muscles when he tries to smooth her face into peaceful sleep. 

Ira fights back tears. What did she go through to cause her to have such nightmares? He shutters and stops the train of thought. He had secretly hoped of the six - five - foretellers, Ava would be the one to make it out. And not him. Ava, their ray of sunshine. Ava, and her fierce loyalty. After the traitor incident, Ava refused give up Gula’s location. He’d catch her sometimes, head tilted, staring at him. She’d soon rapidly turn her head, embarrassed to be caught. Ira didn’t know what she was thinking; Ava hides everything under a laugh and a smile. He had only hoped she realised it was only in best intentions that the truth of the traitor needed to be revealed.

He pockets her mask and lifts her body with his other hand. Groaning under the combined dead weight, he continues forward.

He makes it to the middle of the battlefield where the five of them first met, surrounded by their union members. It must be an omen for the center and four outreaching paths are cleared of debris, keyblades, and fallen warriors. Ira sets Ava and Aced down before he himself collapses from the strain. On a better day, he would have wondered about the perfectly formed sigil and it’s relation to the prophecy. However, the prophecy has been told and he needs to find Gula and Invi.

Invi was the hardest to find - or to say the least - all of Invi was hard to find. Despite the horrors he experienced during his training, nothing prepared him for the smell of charred flesh and the sight of Invi laying like a ragdoll. Ira is reminded of the explosion he heard hours before. Ira would rather fight thousands of shadows, fight the darkness of his own heart, than come to terms with Invi’s death. At least shadows don’t rot, waiting to be buried, when killed.

He doesn’t want to limp closer and see the state of his longest friend. Ira holds his breath. Like with Ava, Invi’s mask was blown in two. The exposed left side of her face was partially blown off, exposing the soft tissue underneath. The blood has already drained from her face, giving her a ghostly-pale complexion, and gathered at the bottom of her body. It leaks, spreading across the dried ground. Ira takes a step back, unable to hold in his nausea. One arm has been blown off; her other limbs have been twisted in unnatural angles. Bile forms in his mouth. He runs to the closest rock before throwing up.

He finds her arm blown several feet away. It’s stiff and it doesn’t feel right touching it. It’s sacrilege. Ira tries to reattach the arm but healing magic does not work well on the dead. Carefully, he tries to move Invi’s other limbs into a better position for carrying but it’s difficult with her body setting into rigor mortis.

Ira looks at Invi, head cradled against his shoulder, her good side facing him, and thinks back to feather-light touches, surreptitious glances, and whispers he knew would amount to nothing but enjoyed nonetheless. He admits to wishing more than once for heated, impassioned nights that never came. Their relationship had always been kinesics cues layered over a rouse of professionalism. For as long as he’s been a keyblade wielder, Invi has always been by his side. She was a silent, sturdy presence who kept him grounded. Really, he couldn’t wish for a better partner. And now, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do. Who will he awkwardly try to make laugh, leave bookmarked sections of poetry for, or ask for guidance on public speaking? Invi looks to be smiling when she died. Ira can only hope she’s in a better place.

He brings her back and lays her next to Aced.

He finds Gula last, at the other end of the canyon. Like Ava, he’s sitting in a small alcove, his hands placed neatly on his lap. Unlike Ava, Gula looks to be peacefully sleeping. It’s only when Ira called and shakes the young man’s shoulders that he realizes Gula has been long dead.

Ira’s relationship with Gula was unfortunately never the same after his talk with the younger man. Stubbornness must have been a trait in all of them; he remembers raising his voice, stuttering, reasoning his actions were justified, desperate to get information out that could prevent the darkness. At first, though he admitted his role, Gula remained mum. As hours dragged on, Gula relented and talked about the page. It was a terrible explanation filled with vague mentions of a sigil. Ira remained stupidly unconvinced, “Lies!” he exploded, “Where is your proof? You must know more!” It was only when he saw the fright in Gula’s eyes that he let the leopard forteller go. Maybe he shouldn’t have. Maybe he should have apologized.

Gula has extreme burns on his face, and traces of them on his hands, where the skin did not heal properly. Ira can only imagine the fight he’s been through. It’s the tell-tale signs of Ava’s magic, though it’s curious why she only healed his hands. 

Ira places him next to the youngest foreteller. He knew how well the two got along; Gula’s crush was the worst kept secret of the Daybreak Town Clocktower. Maybe the afterworld would be better.

With everyone found, the realization sinks in. Ira collapses, his knees suddenly weak. Given how careless a leader he was, why is he the only one left? Given how careless a leader he is, maybe he does deserve such a fate? 

Ira sits down in front of his dead companions, staring over their bodies at Kingdom Hearts.

___

Epilogue

Luxu heaves a sigh as he stares down at the sight beneath him. Ira sits down next to his - no, their - dead friends. How often he wished to join them, talk with them, and interact with them again. Ava sought him once before the war started, but it was as said in his copy of the book of prophecies. Their blades would clash in a resounding sound, indicating the unravelling of peace and the start of the war.

The sixth apprentice summons the Master’s keyblade. The book had written none would be alive. If Ira still breathes, would he have to kill him? Luxu really hopes for that not to be the case. The Master only told him to be a watcher of the events, but a prophecy is a prophecy no matter how it’s carried out. If they deviate, then Luxu has to step in and fix it, or so he was instructed. So far, he hasn’t needed to interfere. The other’s books did not tell the full story; only he and the Master know of the events to come. “It’s for the best,” the Master told him in an unexpected moment of solemnity. 

He looks across the night sky. The scattered keyblades form a perfect outline of the sigil; the Master’s plan is proceeding smoothly. The thing Gula had tried to summon was but a pale comparison to the real Kingdom Hearts. None of them ever knew what it looked like and Lux was a poor substitute to real hearts. The fake is already fading from the sky. The real one…he hopes will never appear. “Are you satisfied now?” he asks into the air. The blowing wind only continues to tease him. Maybe. Maybe.

Gripping the Master’s blade, Luxu descends to finish the prophecy.