"… Fool."

He stands there, quiet and unmoving. Before him is the tall, imposing figure of the one-winged avatar. The very embodiment of a single man's darkness. The storm that followed each and every lull they'd experienced thus far. The man that had his long, long, blade up, pointed straight at him. The man that turned the blade that the tip just caressed his chin.

And behind him…behind him is a fallen warrior. He lays there, barely breathing, eyes closed. He lays there, and his heavy, sturdy weapon is cold and lifeless on the ground beside him. He lays there, not moving at all, and all about him is the swirling of dark tendrils. He lays there, and he has been felled. Defeated.

Before him, the man leers as the tendrils creep closer.

"You are too late. He is already mine."

Behind him, the fallen warrior is cloaked in shadow.

And he stands there...still stands there. His weapon is at his side, relaxed in his grip. He does not bring it up, and sees no need to. The greatest defiance he shows, is not in putting up a fight. He just stands there, and he stares into the eyes of the man before him.

"…not yet."

A dark chuckle, and the blade moves closer to his jawline. A single scarlet tear is wept, and falls upon the brilliant silver of sharp steel. Still, he does not move, neither does he acknowledge the action.

"… You wish to give him your light, I suppose?"

The tone is so laced with malice; it's so…condescending.

"... Fool. What makes you think your light will be of any use to him?"

"… I don't."

And at last, his hand comes up. He takes hold of the blade. It cuts into his glove, and cuts into his palm. He slowly pushes it away, and the steel is stained in shades of red with each inch it moves.

"I can't give him what he already has…what he has had all along."

And before him, the man flinches. Those pale green eyes narrow into slits. The man does not understand; in a time where he would so normally laugh, he suddenly finds no laughter in this situation.

And behind him, though he can't see the fallen one, he humors a thought that he has been heard.

"The heart was never meant to be a sealed area. It has chambers…it has tunnels that lead out. Tunnels are always dark in their centers…but at the ends of them, there is light. He just never made his way toward them yet."

His weapon comes up now, and there is a loud chiming crash as metal strikes against metal. Before him, the man withdraws his blood-stained blade. Tendrils wrap greedily around those remnant stains, and leave behind once more a clean silver.

His hand is still dripping with coppery blood, and it spatters upon the ground with each flexing movement. He brings up the blood-soaked hand, and at last holds up the weapon with a stoic determination.

"I have no light to give him… but there is something that I do have, and that I will give to him. As much as he needs, until he rises and departs from the dark center of his heart to find the light that waits for him."

He turns, he looks behind him. The bloodied hand comes off the hilt, leaving a dark red stain. He extends his hand to the one that is behind him. Before him, the man watches…his interest has been peaked.

He no longer cares for how precarious his life is, with so very deadly a person still standing before him. All he sees is the one behind him, and still he extends the hand that was sliced into.

"… Cloud… It's time to step out of the darkness. Your light is waiting.

"I give to you my courage. Have it all."

A little boy sits, curled up, in the center of a dark place. He has his head down in his arms, as he whimpers quietly.

"…there you are."

The little boy looks up, and he stares with wide eyes. He looks this way and that, but still, all he sees is the darkness that refuses to leave him.

Where are you, the little boy calls out.

"Right here. Come on this way."

The boy jumps to his feet. He staggers blindly, still so disorientated in the inky black surroundings.

Where are you, he calls again. I can't see you!

"Then come find me. Come on, now. You can do this…"

The little boy takes a step, and stumbles again. He panics, and tries to retreat, only to trip and fall. He starts to shake, as he slowly curls up again.

… I can't… I'm stuck here… I can't get out…

"Yes, you can. You have to try."

It's too dark to see. I'll fall.

"Don't be afraid of falling. Don't run from it – learn from it. Now…up you get."

Slowly, still shaking, the little boy gets to his feet. He takes a step, and he stumbles again. He takes slow, deep breaths, and takes another step.

"Good…you're doing it. You don't have to be afraid of it anymore."

The little boy steps forward, again and again. He is walking now – walking away from the dark area he was sitting in for as long as he can remember.

"I'm still here. Hurry now… Try running."

And the little boy breaks into a run without any hesitation. He keeps running, not caring where his feet land. None of it matters, anyway. As he runs, he feels less weight upon him with each second.

"This way. Over here."

As he runs, the little boy calls back: I'm coming! I'm almost there! Wait for me, I'm coming!

"I'm not going anywhere; not without you. Come along, now."

The little boy sees something ahead. It hurts to look at, and yet it's so warm. His eyes sting, but he keeps running toward it. His eyes are burning with pain from looking forward, and still he keeps one foot in front of the other. With a cry, he nearly trips again.

Something reaches out from the blinding object ahead. Not in the cold, greedy way the darkness clings at him, but in a quiet, patient way. It reaches out, ready to catch him as he falls.

And the little boy reaches toward it…

…and a gloved hand claps firmly into the wounded one, taking hold with no intention of letting go.

He looks down, and the one who was once fallen opens his eyes. Bright blue meets with stormy gray, and there is a sparkle there that assures him that the man is there. The one who had fallen…has risen again.

"…found you."

"… so you have."

"…are you-?"

He shakes his head.

"Never was."

"…so then, what was that?"

"A little something to get you moving."

And behind him, the warrior…at long last…smiles. He smiles back, and pulls the other to his feet.

Before him, the man is enraged, and yet he is wary. Behind him, the warrior is no longer shrouded in darkness, as the tendrils quiver away from him. He stands confident, and the warrior comes to stand by him, the impressive weapon once again in his hand.

"Are you ready?"

"Of course."

Before them, the man's single wing arches, conveying a bewildered anger that is burning in those pale green eyes. The sword comes up, its silver steel shining eerily. They meet that challenge as they raise their weapons as well.

A second passes in silence.

And then, in a surge of raw power, all three move at once.