Kingdom Hearts: Consumed by Darkness

Once inside, the comforting warmth of the cottage enveloped them. Skuld let out a soft sigh, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she took in the familiar surroundings. Helios closed the door behind them, the click of the lock echoing in the quiet space.

"Why don't you get some rest?" Helios suggested, his tone gentler than usual. "It's been a long day."

Skuld hesitated, her gaze flickering to him. "What about you?" she asked, her voice soft but filled with concern. "You look like you haven't rested in days."

Helios offered her a faint smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll rest soon," he assured her. "I just need to take care of a few things first."

Reluctantly, Skuld nodded and headed toward her room. She paused at the door, glancing back at him. "Thank you, Helios," she said quietly, her gratitude clear despite the exhaustion in her voice. "For everything."

Helios gave her a small nod. "Goodnight, Skuld."

She disappeared into her room, the door closing softly behind her. Helios stood in the hallway for a moment, before heading to his own room. His bed was still occupied by Cloud's comatose body, his chest rising and falling faintly with each shallow breath. Although he found the situation weird there was nowhere else to put the body.

Helios walked over and leaned closer to his computer screen, his eyes with dark shadows underneath narrowed as he observed the scene unfolding in Xehanort's lab. The grainy footage revealed Xehanort, Even, and Ienzo standing in front of what appeared to be a machine modeled after the lifeboats built in ancient times by the Master of Masters. These lifeboats, he knew, had been originally designed for travel between worlds and even through time, though they required stringent conditions to function.

He watched as the three apprentices adjusted the controls, their expressions neutral but focused. Despite the resemblance, Helios knew these machines couldn't be actual lifeboats—if they were, Xehanort would have exploited their capabilities far earlier. Still, the design hinted at Xehanort's subconscious connection to the Keyblade War, a connection even the apprentice himself seemed unaware of.

"Interesting, isn't it?" Kurai's voice slithered into his mind, an unsettling mix of amusement and intrigue. "That boy, Xehanort… so ambitious, so cold. He's fascinating now, just as he was back then."

Helios frowned but didn't respond immediately. Kurai's cryptic comments often grated on his nerves, especially when they hinted at information beyond Helios's understanding. While he knew the overall truth tiny details escaped his understanding and Kurai found no reason to share. Instead, he focused on the machine. Its purpose seemed clear—to separate the heart from the body. If successful, this process would send the heart to its most significant location while leaving the body behind in a nexus world balanced between light and darkness. Nexus worlds like Twilight Town, Traverse Town, and Castle Oblivion.

As he observed, Helios couldn't help but analyze the potential applications. With extensive tweaking, an understanding of lifeboats, and access to Xehanort's research, it might be possible to recreate the ancient lifeboat technology in the future. The prospect was tantalizing. Such technology could prove invaluable for his plans. It never hurt to have a wild card in one's back pocket in case of emergencies.

His thoughts were interrupted when the apprentices wheeled a small child into the room. Another test subject; the little girl couldn't have been more than six or seven years old, her small frame trembling as she was guided toward the machine. Her wide, tearful eyes darted around the room, seeking escape or salvation.

Helios while feeling a tinge of sadness knew he couldn't intervene now; his dark form's identity had to remain hidden, and his presence here couldn't be revealed any more than it already was. This was a moment of grim necessity—Helios would see how far Xehanort and his allies were willing to go and how far he himself could go.

"Ready?" Xehanort's voice carried through the speakers, calm and detached.

Even nodded, his gaze fixed on the girl as though she were no more than a test sample. "The parameters are set. Let's see if this iteration yields better results."

Ienzo, the youngest among them, glanced at the controls, his expression unreadable. Helios couldn't tell if there was hesitation in his movements or just methodical precision. He couldn't afford to dwell on it.

The machine powered up with a low hum that quickly escalated into a piercing whine. The girl's screams cut through the noise, sharp and agonized, as the machine began its work. Bright light engulfed her, and Helios could see her body contorting, her small hands clawing at the air as though trying to grasp something—anything—that could save her.

Then, with a final, deafening hum, the girl's form flickered and disappeared. The room fell into silence, broken only by the mechanical beeping of the machine as it recorded data. Xehanort, Even, and Ienzo stood by, their faces unreadable as they reviewed their notes.

Kurai's voice returned, quieter now but no less taunting. "And there it is. The lengths they'll go to, the sacrifices they'll make. Are you ready for this, Helios? Ready to face what you've aligned yourself with?"

Helios calmed himself, his eyes never leaving the screen. "Was the experiment a success or failure?" he murmured under his breath. "It's different when you see firsthand how the data was gathered."

Kurai chuckled softly, the sound slithering through Helios's mind like a serpent. "You're avoiding the question, my dear Helios. Success or failure? Is that all that matters to you now?"

Helios didn't answer immediately. His eyes remained fixed on the screen, where Xehanort and the others were now reviewing the data from the experiment. The girl was gone, her fate sealed by the ambitions of those in the lab. The screen displayed no sign of her heart, body, or any remnants that could offer a clue to what had become of her. How would they know if it worked?

After a moment, Helios leaned back in his chair, his expression impassive but his mind racing. "What matters," he said finally, his voice low and steady, "is understanding. Understanding the process works. It's a critical piece of the puzzle."

"Why?" Kurai pressed, its voice dripping with malice. "With your keyblade, you could effortlessly do what they'll use many lives to accomplish. So why do you wish to see how they do it? Might it be that somewhere deep inside you wish to play with lives as they do? Do you want to wish to play the role of creator and see what wonders and horrors you could make if you were not weighed down by morality?"

Helios's jaw tightened, his eyes still locked on the screen. "You assume too much, Kurai," he said coldly. "This isn't about ambition or playing god. It's about preparation. Understanding the limits of their experiments, the lengths they'll go to—these are things I need to know. Not to emulate them, but to know how to counter them."

Kurai chuckled, the sound reverberating in Helios's mind like a whispering shadow. "Oh, I'm sure that's the story you tell yourself. But the line between observation and participation is thinner than you think, my dear Helios."

Helios ignored the jab, his focus returning to the lab feed. The apprentices were methodically packing up their data, their faces betraying no hint of emotion as they discussed the next steps. Xehanort, however, stood apart, his gaze fixed on the machine as though seeing beyond its physical form to the potential it represented.

Helios's fingers drummed lightly on the desk. He had to admit, for all his distaste for Xehanort's methods, the apprentice's drive was something to be reckoned with. Helios couldn't afford to underestimate him—not now, not ever.

As the apprentices left the room, the feed switched to a different camera angle, showing Xehanort walking down a dimly lit corridor. He stopped at a door, glanced over his shoulder, and entered, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Helios leaned forward, his interest piqued. The angle of the camera didn't allow him to see inside the room, but he could tell from Xehanort's posture that something significant was happening. His mind raced with possibilities. Was this a private moment of reflection, or was he meeting with someone? Perhaps Braig, or another accomplice?

Kurai's voice returned, softer now, almost contemplative. "You're drawn to him, aren't you? To his ambition, his vision. You see pieces of yourself in him."

Helios's lips pressed into a thin line. "I've seen what he had hoped to become. What he will become. And I know the cost of letting him roam unchecked."

"And yet," Kurai said, its tone taking on a mocking edge, "you're content to let him roam for now. Because you need him, don't you? You need him to play his part, to set the stage for whatever grand plan you have in mind. To let the people of many different worlds suffer so you can get what you want. Every so often I find myself understanding you and now these moments are happening more often."

Helios didn't respond, his thoughts too tangled to untangle with a simple retort. Kurai wasn't wrong, but admitting that aloud—even to himself—was a step too far. He turned his attention back to the screen, letting the silence stretch between them.

Eventually, Kurai broke the quiet, its voice low and almost conspiratorial. "So, what's next, Helios? Do you wait and watch, or do you act? Every moment you hesitate, someone else pays the price."

Helios exhaled slowly, his gaze unwavering. "I'll act when the time is right," he said firmly. "Not a moment before."