Keyblade: Eno Vale

[Lore Moogle]

For your viewing pleasure, kupo.

Part I of ???

A few weeks have passed since the once proud warrior fought alongside two others in La Cite Des Cloches. The Hellfire is now all but a distant memory, one that lingers on the edge of Eno's mind as he staggers along, his stomach rumbling loud enough for any nearby to hear. The only reason such a thing still registers for the hungry spirit, is attributable to less than stellar experiences with what that dragon loved to use: fire. That vile beast spewed it from it's black body in excess.

Baring witness to it alone is more then able to put any person on edge, in fact it sent dozens of citizens running for safety in a blind panic, but in the Ex-Hand's case, being on edge was an understatement. The training he underwent during his budding years kept him from turning tail like the others. In spite of that, nothing prepared him for the unfortunate events that followed. Were it not for his time in the military, it was certain Eno would have met his end at its claws.

The Ex-Commander kept hesitating when he got too close to the flames, and such vulnerability would be abused by those smart enough to do so. The dragon was haughty, it couldn't conceive dying by Eno's hands, or by those of his allies. It's because of that the heartless met his fate. Unfortunately, compared to other dark beings that maybe potentially be lurking around, it could barely be considered a challenge.

It's a big universe, and it isn't farfetched to think that real monsters are out there. Ones similar, but so much stronger. Those thoughts alone would send a shiver down his spine if he can focus on them long enough, but the blurring of his vision would bring him back to more pressing matters. One held some sense of relevancy, the other a different matter entirely. The first focused on the element that made his blood run cold in his veins.

Did the punishment Hades gave him all those months ago really hold such an impact? As soon as the heat rose he can't help but picture the Dark God standing over him, watching through grim eyes as Eno was set aflame. The free spirit did compare the two on instinct, considering both used that same magic to serve their own ends. Perhaps that was the reason he was exposed to such a violent moment in his past during combat? Regardless, this is something Eno shouldn't dwell on. But, that's now how things always work, and this is something one can't easily shake off.

How does one forget such a moment in their lives? To experience having your body burned to its bones, only to regenerate and have it start anew. Dealing with that dreaded pattern for half a month, it'd be natural for lingering fears to stay, even if it did only happen once. While the heartless can't compare to Hades, it had its own intensity, and ultimately, that damned dragon made his fear worse.

The giant has come to the point where camp fires put him on edge. The peace he gott through sleeping out in a tent, listening quietly to the subtle sounds of nature, has vanished as a result. The one thing he was able to take solace in after a hard day of hunting ruined. Such an annoyance, only being made worse as his stomach rumbles, louder than the first time.

Shadows and its ilk would have solved that issue, if there were any around. The giant hasn't had any luck with them today. It seems as though someone may have come through and swept the area clean. A major inconvenience when you can only survive on what little the heartless around here drop. A shadow gives three to five munny, ten if someone's looking out for you. Sadly, that only gets you a small meal at shady looking establishments. It make matters worse, the animals on these worlds are able to speak the same language as him, it makes killing and eating them next to impossible. The ex-hand can't bring himself to eat a bunny crying it's eyes out, he tried.

The heartless he did manage to kill paid for his breakfast, and only his breakfast. The rest of his day ended up being spent using the sun's light to illuminate his paths to nothing. Failure hung over him, and that horrible nail is driven further into his skull with each passing hour. Now, the moon hangs high in the sky, and not even it can provide what the sun didn't. No matter how hard he tries his stomach remains just as empty as it did five hours ago.

A horrible addition to an already dreary evening. His body feels so frail, the energy all but used up, and the muscles barely give the means for him to move. A functioning body is a tricky thing indeed, one the ex-hand is getting used to. Being dead, there's no need to breathe, eat, or sleep, and should the damage be insignificant, the soul will fix itself. That's what the giant of a man had for over a century, so it's natural for difficulties to arise, but at this point it's ridiculous. None of those advantages have stuck and he's stuck paying the price.

He didn't even sleep five hours before starting the day, not that he cam make the others keep their mouths shut. Always speaking to him in a whisper, or full blown yelling should he be so unlucky! No matter how many times he tries to stop them, they hardly ever listen. Bitterness of a hundred years coalesce in his body, flowing though him like the rampaging current of a river. Each soul fragment Eno consumed during his years in Tartarus continue possess their own bit of power, that power is what keeps them tied to the host. It's not something one can wish away or ignore. A literal, walking apartment complex for the dead, and it's not one of the better ones either.

And to top it all off, the one who brought him here in the first place is still missing. Los Cites was a failure due to the dragon, Traverse Town didn't point him in the right direction either. It appears this world may turn up with the same result. Where in the world did that woman get off to?

With his thoughts elsewhere, he takes the time to stop. He needs this, that's what every fiber screams for, a break. The voices however, urge him on, the volume rising the weaker he gets. It's difficult keeping them from being distracting. At this point, walking into a fully packed cafeteria would be a symphony of silence compared to this. Among the sea of noise, a single soul would call out among them, loud enough to make the others fall silent. The baritone vibrates through his being, and the volume behind his words are enough to make Eno cover his ears. The message is clear.

“If you don't find something, I will,” chilling words from a fearsome creature. One in particular the giant recalled, that was already wounded from a previous fight. Though it was weary, and on the verge of death, it easily held the once doomed prisoner off for nearly an hour before falling. To hear it again after so long, it almost felt like the threat might be made real should the giant slip up for even a moment.

Regardless, that shook off a part of the exhaustion. A welcome, albeit frightening threat, one that causes him to search in desperation. The fear of starving to death was never on his mind, he'd survived weeks without during his first life, and he was only a child then. But now, he's feeding not only himself, but everyone else as well that calls his body home. Human sized portions keep them stated, but the longer he waits, the more he'll have to eat to satisfy them. There's no way they'll give the civilians of this world the same treatment Eno himself is giving.
They won't avoid them, they'll seek people out, and the purer they are the better. When it comes to the evils of Tartarus, Eno has learned one very important lesson: the brighter the light, the higher the quality. Anyone can eat darkness, it surrounds the worlds in excess as the norm. It's always there, ironically given the situation. But, light, now that's something a bit harder to come by, a delectable meal for those he's hosting.

Another lurch of bile brings Eno to his knees on the brick laden streets. Even in the light, given by the perpetual Twilight this world exhibits, did nothing to illuminate the ex-hand's path. Did he overestimate the fear? Or did he not realize it soon enough? Was he so preoccupied with his dwelling on the Hellfire that he didn't notice how weak his body truly is? What a fool, to be above thieving even now is a risk, especially when the result of that could be worse than the crime. But, after the bombing, along with the resulting flood, members of the militia might be a bit on edge for now. They might take the simple stealing a little too far. The reward just wasn't worth the risk at the moment, a terrible time to try to search for her.

It's a struggle to stand, but on shaky legs he manages. They're so loud now, the sounds of his footsteps disappear completely among the mass of noise. A hand clutches to his ear in a vain attempt at blocking it out. They're taunting him, rubbing salt in an already festering wound, they knew they'd won. A simple mistake was all it took to shift the balance, without Hades here to keep things evened out, there's nothing stopping them other than a man inexperienced in this field. It's too much, there's no denying it now.

He is only able to move a few more feet before his strength gives out completely, his consciousness quickly joins the failing shell. The last thing he is able to hear among the world around him, something that rises softly over the uproarious voices, is the garbled noises of two individuals from close by...

The quiet, gentle embrace of the darkness is cruelly snatched away, by the high pitched wailing of a woman from nearby. His vision remains blurred, but the lumpy mass of her outline could be seen lying nearby in an alleyway, but as to why she's there is a mystery to the giant. That is until his other senses start to establish themselves one by one.

First is the smell, one that Eno has become all too familiar with, one that carried along with the smoke and ash of the many battles he was a part of. Next, his sense of touch. A second mass, one significantly smaller than the first, is cradled in his very hands. The free spirit doesn't want to look, but curiosity drives him forward. He knows what's possibly in his grasp, the metallic taste joining the lumps of meat still sitting in his mouth. He didn't want to believe it, he couldn't. The ex-hand thought he was stronger than this, even without Hades, Eno believed he could overcome this urge.

That, sadly, is far from what he has done. Because Eno found himself to be too weak to perform such a task, tonight will forever be burned into his memory as a result of when he couldn't keep them at bay. No matter what he does, he'll never be able to forget her face, or the sobbing of what he can only assume to be her mother.

The body of a little girl, barely into her teens, sits limply in his lap, the only thing keeping her upright is the stringy bits of flesh of her neck connecting from there, to his mouth. Torn fabric from her baby blue dress, along with bits of her corpse, litter the ground around them. The voices that were once overpowering him now stay comfortably silent, their bellies full from their feast. While normal food would have to be shoveled into him to placate them at this point, all it takes is an individual with a pure heart to sate their gluttonous natures. It's obvious which route they chose when he lost control.

“What have you done to my baby?!” Her mother screams as she staggers to her feet, glancing over her reveals cuts and bruises covering bits of exposed skin. She may have tried to save her daughter, but in the end a normal person cannot hope to stop a hungry beast, her battered form acts as a testament to that. Despite her injuries, she's able to run over and strike him. With Eno in shock, he doesn't bother fighting back, opting to let her do it as many times as she wishes. Though, no matter how much she claws at his face and neck, no matter if she pries her blood and spittle covered daughter from his mouth and out of his lap, nothing can change what he's done. Her life is long gone, and not a single thing Eno has at his disposal can bring the dead back.

With her now away from him, the giant can view the damage done. The pale moonlight shining down  upon Twilight Town would do little to mask the horrible site. As he was already well aware of, her neck has been bitten into, large, bloody chunks hang limply from the area, and fresh crimson still leaks from the wound. An eye is missing from its respective socket, an empty, black abyss now stares back up at the mother. Part of her face wasn't spared the wrath of hunger either. Holes cover the child's body in excess, each representing a bit of meat Eno so greedily stole. The once dead man held nothing back in getting what he desired, and the realization brings the metallic taste, mixed with bile, up his throat.

He covers his mouth out of reflex rather than need, wanting to keep it down rather than vomiting. The giant wouldn't risk expelling the purity he'd consumed, lest the creatures he harbors gain their hunger back in full force. There's no telling if the light has been absorbed into his body or not at this point. He wouldn't risk having the mother, or others, suffer the same fate. Just the thought is enough to keep his eyes glued to the cobblestone streets rather than her. He can't bare to look up, an overwhelming sense of shame and self loathing prevent him from doing so.

He should have hunted for heartless earlier, he shouldn't have lost control, he should have saved his munny from the last venture. All these thoughts and more now flow through his mind like a tidal wave, threatening to overtake his sanity yet again. The monsters do not need to taunt him now, Eno knows full well the weight of his actions, and what they mean for not only himself, but for the one remaining witness cradling her dead child.

There's no way that woman will ever forget his face. All it will take is a few words to the militia and his means of finding residence here will be impossible. And, as it stands, the more the ex-hand lingers, the worse it will be for him. Yet, something keeps him there, staring at the now torn family. Did that little girl have a father, brother, pet? What about grandparents, extended family, friends? How many lives has he torn asunder by doing this? Eno didn't want to know.

Disgust, humiliation, guilt, that and much more culminated within, causing his stomach to lurch. He dry heaves, loud enough for the mother to hear him, snapping her from her grieving. Her whole body shakes as she stares him down, her tear filled eyes emanating with pure hate. The giant flinches under her gaze, bringing his gaze to the ground again.

“You monster,” the woman whimpers, “how could you? She's only eleven, she didn't even get to, get to-” she chokes on her own tears, breaking down yet again. Despite her crying, she's able to shout  out to whomever could hopefully hear. “Guards? Guards! Someone, anyone, please!” At first, only silence greets her pleas for help, but luck wouldn't be on Eno's side. It only takes a few seconds before the heavy thud of platemail could be heard. Each step echoes like thunder to the free spirit, causing him to shake. Whether its through fear, or desperation, none could tell.

“Shit,” Eno says through gritted teeth, his hands wrapping around the fabric of his pants. His grip tightens with each passing second. “Shit, shit, shit.” The giant's voice waivers, the knowledge of what's to come clear in his head, and while every fiber in his being cries out for him to stay, to take whatever punishment is due, the ex-hand knows he can't. He still has to find her, and the giant will not stop until he's made his discovery. With a heavy heart, and great reluctance, Eno takes to the skies, flying as fast as his body will allow, leaving the grieving parent, and the militia far behind...

He doesn't know how much time has passed, or how far he's managed to go, but it doesn't matter. Eno can hear her cries even now, he can see the tears flowing down her face. The corpse of the little girl, and the smell of blood does nothing to dismiss it, only exacerbating an already growing problem. The ex-hand can still taste her, the blood only sitting on his tongue. The wind definitely dried up what bits had covered his face, leaving him a mess. He must look quite a sight, he thinks to himself.

A sudden jolt of pain coming from his stomach would rock the large one's body, nearly taking him out of the sky. He comes to a stop in mid-air, holding the affected area gingerly. Was he about to vomit? No, that can't be the case, it doesn't matter how gruesome the corpse was, or that he ate one of his own, his stomach can handle that. His life and time spent dead nearly eliminated all sense of disgust when it comes to blood, or dead bodies in general. However, this sensation is something else entirely, one foreign to the once dead man, until it racks through his large form yet again.

Just like many times before, the voice of his old master comes to his consciousness, one detailing a certain woman, who believed that escaping Cerberus' maw granted her freedom. Hades, being the damnable god that he was, sent Eno in his dog's stead. The fight itself was nothing he couldn't handle, but given what she was using, things were significantly harder.

Kyra wielded a keyblade, an esoteric weapon of light. An item easily capable of wiping the giant off the face of the worlds. He may not be that husk of death, but the darkness that still resides in his heart makes him vulnerable. Light is something he's forced to avoid, lest he be consumed by it. His thoughts are again interrupted as heat joins with the agonizing twist in his belly. An all too familiar radiance that only grows in intensity with each passing second. It's making it difficult to maintain flight, and the ex-hand is starting to descend rapidly.

What's going on? Sure he ate what many would consider a pure being, but the light of one small girl shouldn't be enough to cripple Eno, not to this extent. A sore stomach sure, but this? There's no way she could have-

His thoughts are cut off when a brilliant ray of light comes bursting from his chest, the sheer brightness not only pouring through the hole, but traveling up his throat, spreading what feels like wildfire throughout his shell. Eno screams now, the intensity of this light threatening to burn his body to ashes. Not even his regenerative properties could block the pain at this point. Any hope of maintaining flight is all but gone. Now in free fall, Eno keeps his gaze upon the black sky blanketed with stars.

In doing so, he manages to attain some mercy out of all this. Almost as soon as the event begins, it ends. The pain, his vision, everything fades, giving way to the darkness...