Fan Fiction ❯ Masters of the Blade ❯ Prologue: Awakening the Chain ( Chapter 1 )

Masters of the Blade

 

Emerald Princess of Vernea

 

Prologue - Awakening the Chain

 

Deep in the darkest depths of Memoria, a circular room stands concealed from the rest of the world. Hidden amongst the catacomb of dark, winding tunnels and pathways specifically designed to confuse the weak-hearted, this room had been hidden for centuries, kept away from all prying eyes.

 

Dust covered the seemingly plain stone-panelled floors and had settled down in heavy clumps, covering almost every inch of the stone. Dead vines rose from large cracks in the stone and wound their way up the walls, gripping onto more cracks that had formed on the walls over the passage of time.

 

There were some places where the age of time did not touch the walls. Eight large grooves lined the curved walls, sealed off from the wall by beautifully coloured stained glass windows. Yet the colours did not seem to stay in one place - they seemed to constantly move around throughout the hollow glass panel like a fluid, constantly changing shape and shade. It was almost as though the glass was not even there, and it was simply coloured liquid floating around in front of the grooves, letting only a faint image of what was inside come through.

 

Through those fluid frames were the faint, shaded images of swords standing upright from the hilt, hanging on hooks against the wall so that the tip pointed upwards. Each one was strangely shaped with different blades, some strong and thick, others thin and delicate, but each one had a something in common. Hanging from the hilt of each blade there was a chain of strong metal, bearing different images that shaped the blades. A number of great Keyblades, locked away in the dark room.

 

Even though there were eight stone panels on the walls, only seven of them held a mystical Keyblade. The third in line on the left of the room - its panel was empty, now just a hollowed out cavern of dark, lonely stone.

 

Then, through the silence, something began to happen to one of the glass panels, in particular to the eighth panel at the far end of the room, closest to the door. The watery colours seemed to quicken in pace and move around the glass much more quickly. A speck of black appeared in the middle of the pane and expanded rapidly, cutting through the coloured swirls as easily as a knife would cut through water, without restriction or caring.

 

As the black colour reached the edges of the frame, it almost seemed to seep out of the lining in the form of thin black tentacles that uncurled and unfolded, spreading out across the edges of the frame but no further, shrouded in a thick black cloud. The colour of the glass was easily overcome as the darkness spread, until the entire pane was black.

 

Suddenly, just as quickly as they emerged from the pane they retracted, reaching the pane just in time to see the last traces of beautiful colour be pushed away from the frame and solidify, leaving it as a dark and empty black.

 

And then, it shattered.

 

The glass exploded from inside, shards of black glass flying into the air and clattering onto the floor, just as a shadowy figure also jumped out from behind the glass, possibly from within the glass itself, and landed strongly onto the floor.

 

Head down and covered in a black hood that was attached to a long cloak that swept over his body, the shadowy figure stayed silent as the last remnants of glass fell around him. Some shards landed on his back and head, but he did not move. His hands pressed gently against the floor, covered in a pair of thick black gloves and a single silver ring, his legs bent and resting on the floor, was the way he stayed until the last speck of glass fell from the pane, and he slowly stood up.

 

Dark clouds seemed to swirl around him as he moved, stretching for the first time in years, straightening his legs and standing upright. Then he uncurled his back and lifted his head up, feeling the glass trickle down his back like water and clatter loudly onto the ground. His arms falling loosely by his sides he uncurled his fingers, feeling the gentle strain of muscles moving after being kept still for so long. It was an immense relief.

 

After stretching his arms the figure moved his hands up and carefully gripped the edge of the hood that shielded his face, and carefully pulled it back to let it fall behind him, revealing his face for the first time.

 

He was young, no more than twenty-one. He had a smooth face of pale complexion, possibly even milky white skin that had never seen the warm glimmer of sunlight. His hair was short and a very pale shade of silver, with a windswept look that kept it pushed back away from his face. Curiously there was a wide black band tied around his head, positioned specifically so that it covered his right eye, and only his left eye, shaded a pale and mysterious blue, was visible. The young man twisted his neck so that it cracked loudly, before looking around at the chamber he was in.

 

“Free at last…” he said, his voice carrying a strong and firm tone of someone with great skill and knowledge. “Free at last…”

 

Ignoring the crackling of the glass beneath his feet, the young man turned towards the pane he had broken free from. There were a few small shards still holding onto the edges of the frame, but inside there was the dark Keyblade that it had kept sealed and protected for so long.

 

The dark Keyblade, with its long, thin frame of pure-black metal. Built up of three long cylindrical blades and tipped with a key in the shape of two dark bat wings, each point as sharp as they could ever be. The handle, made of the same metal and shielded by two more bat wings on either side of it, made a secure grip. Its keychain, in the shape of a three-tailed fork, hung by its thick black chain.

 

The man reached in, a sly grin on his pale face, and closed his fingers around the handle. Feeling the coldness of the metal through his gloves, he smiled, and then pulled the blade free.

 

It was surprisingly light in his hand and he could lift it easily. He could almost feel the blade stretching as well; also glad to be awakened after so long. Running his hand along the metal blade he could see his reflection staring back at him, with only one difference in that his left eye was glowing as it looked back at him.

 

He looked up suddenly as he heard the sound of the crash of glass, immediately followed by a second crash. He spun around and an angry frown crossed his face as he saw the figures that dropped from the panes of glass at the far end of the room.

 

“I wondered when you would be showing your faces,” the young man sneered.

 

Standing ahead of him in two more pools of shattered glass were two more men. Both of them wore cloaks that hid most of their facial features from view, but they differed in colour. The man to the left was dressed in a long dark brown cloak that covered his arms, face and head, and only a faint glimpse of his face could be seen. The man on his right was taller and stronger, and wore a grey cloak. He did not seem to be looking at the silver-haired man, but rather at the floor, almost in a trance.

 

“We knew that one day you would break free, Kek,” the first of the two men said. “It was necessary for some of us to stay awake in order to keep you sealed.”

 

“You are a little too late, Akil,” said Kek, and he motioned to the already empty Keyblade panel. “The Oathkeeper has already fled.”

 

“She had her own reasons for leaving,” Akil replied. “And so we let her. We do not need her to seal you again.” He thrust out his left hand, and the Keyblade that was housed in the panel where he had emerged, with its thin, flat blade tipped with a shimmering, ghostly pattern of sky blue, automatically unleashed itself from its hooks and to his hand, where he closed his hand around it. He held it out in front of him. “You will return to slumber.”

 

Kek looked at Akil with his Keyblade, a frown on his face. Then that frown turned into a smile, and then into a laugh. A laugh that echoed around the chamber and back at him. When he finally stopped laughing, Kek put a hand on his chest, inhaling deeply.

 

“I have learnt many things whilst in sleep,” he said. “And your Soul Key does not frighten me, Akil. Whilst I have slept, the power of darkness has been feeding slowly into me as more darkness grows in all the worlds. The Devil's Choice is now filled with that energy.” He pointed his blade at the second man. “What do you say, Tarik? Do you oppose me as well?”

 

Akil looked over at the second man standing silently beside him. Tarik was still looking at the floor, his face covered in shadow. After a moment or two he slowly lifted his head and held out his hand - to his own Keyblade panel. His Keyblade, with colours of dark blue and dark pink swirling around its short, sharp blade and box-shaped keychain, flew to his hand. Then he held it out and pointed it at Kek, to join Akil's readied blade.

 

Kek looked at them both, and a frown crossed his face. “Very well,” he said. “If that is your choice.”

 

Akil and Tarik never even had the chance to move as Kek thrust out his other hand. A force hit the two young men and made them fly back, crashing into the stone wall and crumbling to the floor. Their Keyblades were thrown so easily from their hands that it left the two men stunned.

 

Akil slowly looked up and saw Kek moving towards the other colour-filled panes of glass that protected the remaining four Keyblades. Yet as he tried to move he found his arms and legs bound by black bands of dark cloud energy, preventing him from moving anywhere. He could see the Soul Key lying at his feet, but he was incapable from moving his hands anywhere near it. Neither could Tarik, with Pandora lying next to him. Looking at Tarik he could see his head was lowered, barely even conscious.

 

“So you see,” Kek said suddenly, and Akil looked over to him. “I have grown exponentially over the last 300 years. I have powers that far outweigh yours. And if you won't join me,” he added with an evil sneer as he reached out to one of the panels. “Then I shall force you and the other Keyblade Masters to join me.”

 

He reached out and touched the coloured glass panel of the very first Keyblade. As his dark fingers connected with the glass it shattered, and a wave of bright light erupted from it. Kek cried out and was forced back, shielding his eyes with his hand and Keyblade as the light made him step back away from it. The sounds of more crashes could be heard as the remaining panels also broke apart and released more light into the room.

 

“NO!” shouted Kek, as he realised what was going on.

 

While the light burned brightly throughout the chamber, the stone doors leading into the chamber suddenly burst open, sending a wave of cold air flying into the room and sending the clouds of gust flying up into the air. The Keyblades, standing safely in their panels, glowed brightly with an intense white light, before they began to fade and disappear, dissolving into the keychains that were their natural forms. Then, finally, they broke free.

 

The four remaining keychains released themselves from their stands and flew out of the panels and circled the chamber at amazing speed. Kek could only see them as coloured blurs as they spun past him, continuing to shield his eyes from the light. Akil, still on the ground, looked over at Tarik. Tarik was now sitting upright, his hood down to reveal a head of long silver hair, his eyes glowing white as he channelled the power of Pandora through him.

 

The keychains then changed course and flew out of the door, the light and wind following them. The doors then began to close, and only Kek's angry cry managed to seep out of the chamber before the black doors slammed shut and locked again, sealing Kek, Tarik and Akil in the Keyblade chamber.

 

And while the doors shut, the keychains proceeded to fly off through the catacombs, in search of their masters.