Mad at Mouse Part 9

She couldn’t win.

She was failing.

Dying.

“Cure!” A voice shouted out in the darkness. She knew that voice. How she knew that voice she had no idea. She shouldn’t know any voices. She hadn’t had ears in over two hundred years.

Curled in a ball, and not a clue how to uncurl.

She could hear fighting.

Worse. She could hear a Keyblade.

Wait, Keyblade equalled Keyblader equalled elemental heart. Where was the energy?

She was going to die.

She couldn’t imagine what would happen when she died.

There would be a war, spanning the entire universe, and eventually someone would rise to fill the vacuum left by her passing.

So many people would die.

No!                        

She rose to her feet, seeing the mouse standing over her, watching her, about to get sliced by a black blade.

She reacted, deflecting the hit.

There was too many Heartless.

She wished she had a true weapon, one she knew how to use. Her arms and hands ached from wielding the axe, her muscles unused to this abuse, her muscles unused to any abuse.

Her world narrowed to ally and enemy, a mindset she was far too familiar with, and she clung to it, clung on tightly to consciousness.

To fail now was to be overrun. To fail meant death.

Suddenly there was no more enemies.

She watched the last one dissolve, the ghost of its heart floating away.

Destiny folded, sinking to the floor, taking great shuddering breaths, her entire body burned, injuries great and small made themselves known and demanded attention.

But there was the mouse.

With difficulty she forced her breathing to return to normal, and met the dark and concerned eyes of her... Ally? Saviour? Enemy? She didn’t know anymore.

“Well.” She started, and wondered how to continue. She knew what she wanted to say. She knew what she should say. She knew what custom would dictate she say.

Before she decided, the Mouse offered his hand and his name.

Her eyes flickered to that hand in disbelief, he wasn’t seriously offering...?

Yes, he was serious.

She clasped his hand, “I am known as Destiny.” She meant to say.

Suddenly, abruptly, unexpectedly, power flooded into her.

It was like being in the middle of a drought, only for the skies to open and a wall of water pour down.

The mouse swayed and collapsed, Destiny only just catching him.

Her hair was black, as black as the blackest heart, straight and heavy, and she suspected her eyes, skin, maybe even shape had shifted to contain this sudden influx of energy.

She glanced down at the unconscious mouse held in her arms.

“Well. Isn’t this just swell?” She sighed heavily, and started making plans.