Hello and welcome to Kingdom Hearts: Keys to the Kingdom III. I usually do author's notes after chapters, but since this is the first one I thought I'd do this before things got going.

For anyone who just clicked out of casual curiosity, or because you saw a III in the title, obviously you're very welcome and I'm grateful. I will note though, that just as it is with the actual Kingdom Hearts game series, if you haven't read the rest of my series (most notably Key to the Kingdom: Life Goes On) you might find yourself floundering a bit about events and places and people and terminology mentioned.

Also, I'm going to disclaim this whole thing by saying that this story has nothing in common with Kingdom Hearts III the video game. My previous numbered works (Keys to the Kingdom I and II)were more or less direct adaptations of the two numbered Kingdom Hearts games, but this story is wholly original. Backstory, character relationships, the existence of certain characters, lore. Basically, if it was introduced to the series after KH II, don't count on it as an absolute. That may sound crazy, but I'm a wild guy who just so happens to have a radically different vision of where these characters and this universe should go. That sounds really pretentious, but whatever.

Anyway, all that aside, I hope people will at least give this strange story a chance. I'll be working hard to make it turn out the best I can. And so, here it is. Kingdom Hearts: Keys to the Kingdom III

"The Keyblade. Truly a marvelous weapon. Now if only it were in more capable hands, hm?"

A young man walks along a dusty road, wind whipping harshly at his dark clothes. All around him is nothing but dust, a blinding storm he walks through the nexus of without hurry or concern. Is this man the storm's cause, or merely a traveler who found the best way through? It is impossible to say. He simply walks on.

The haze begins to fade, the impenetrable wall of bright yellow dust parting to reveal dozens of small rifts. Light shines even brighter through these holes, glimpses of a sky tinted yellow by dirt and sand and the blazing sun.

Eventually, the young man stops. He stands still as a statue, only glancing once over his shoulder before he fixates on what's ahead. He regards the haze with his same impassiveness, only slightly betrayed by the quick movements of his eyes. The dust is settling faster now, glimpses of tall canyons, buttes, and plateaus in the distance. Only the immediate ground remains obscured, as if the particulates have all decided to stop at exactly the wanderer's height.

Then, with one final, massive gust, all the dust is blown away to reveal what is beyond. The young man stands at a crossroads, four paths all leading up to the spot where he stands. All around him is some sort of strange vegetation, or perhaps just unique looking rocks. Or, perhaps they are something else.

The last dust finally settles, revealing the young man's surroundings in fuller detail. It is not strange rocks or desert blooms that surround him. Instead, he stands in the midst of a field of metal.

Keyblades. Hundreds of them. They jut out of the ground, some straight and others tilted at angles, sunlight glinting off them, somehow luminous even through layers of rust.

The traveler pays no attention, except for a single glance to make sure no hostiles hide amongst the blades. Once he's sure, he returns his attention ahead. Squinting, he can just barely make out three figures in the distance, walking slowly towards him.

He takes a deep breath, opening and closing his palm. The motion is slow and steady, rhythmic and familiar. Some kind of nervous tick, perhaps?

"Legends tell of the Keyblade and its wielder, young man. How the Keyblade shatters peace and brings ruin. It is nothing but a curse!"

Despite their sedate pace, the figures ahead are getting closer remarkably quickly. They're still too far away to make out perfectly, but the sunlight shines off them the same as all those blades. In fact, the gleam is brighter on these figures. Whatever sort of metallic clothing they wear, it's clearly fresher, or simply better maintained, than the forgotten blades.

What's more, the armor covers their entire bodies. Long capes of tattered cloth splay out behind them, shifting with the swirling wind. Even moving methodically as they are, still the capes billow. Perhaps the universe simply enjoys dramatic imagery.

Finally, they reach an apparently acceptable distance. From here, the traveler can make out the differences between all three strangers. One is tall, burly and masculine. The second is shorter by only inches, and the curves of their body are unmistakably feminine. Finally, the third figure stands at a height with the woman's shoulder, his lithe musculature less obvious than the other man's.

The traveler walks forward just a few feet, still maintaining at least ten yards from his visitors. He opens his mouth to speak, though no words can be heard. Though even from simple observation, a brewing conflict is clear. Stances shift, muscles clench. Open hands becomes fists. The air begins to swirl up a cloud of dirt once again.

Then suddenly, it appears the time for talking is over. The tallest armored figure steps forward, a column of light flashing in his hands. When it fades, he holds a blade. It's strange, designed to look like some enormous piston. It is also enormous, half the height of the tall knight. The others quickly follow suit. The smallest figure's blade resembles a metal axe, three spokes forming its head. The female's is sleek and to the point. Quite literally. The spike at its tip looks as if it could puncture a boulder straight through.

All three raise their weapons, ready for a fight.

The traveler simply looks at them for a moment, just the barest hint of a smile on his face. He raises his arm perpendicular to the ground, the smile growing. Light flashes in his open hand, brighter than his opponent's magic. It fades to reveal a blade of the traveler's own. It doesn't look like much, a simple silver shaft leading down to a square, golden handguard. Unlike the others', three metal links off the hilt lead to a silver pendant. A keychain.

The traveler lowers his blade, both hands holding it parallel to his body. The look on his face seems to scream for the armored figures to bring all they have to bear. He is ready for them.

"The closer you get to the light, the greater your shadow becomes."

The Door must not be opened!

Sora awakens with a start, sitting up so quickly he almost dives right out of his chair. His breathing is frantic for a moment, eyes darting over his surroundings but seeming to see nothing. It takes him a few seconds, but eventually the Keybearer manages to settle. He consciously moves through a slow cycle of deep breaths. In, and out. In, and out. Calm replaces his earlier, inexplicable panic.

"You okay back there?" a feminine voice asks, simultaneously managing both concern and teasing. "Bad dream?"

Sora looks ahead, where Kairi is looking at him over her shoulder. The red-haired Princess of Heart sits at the Gummi ship's piloting chair, control rods firmly gripped in her hands. She's frowning, one eyebrow raised quizzically.

"Yeah, yeah," Sora replies, forcing himself to shrug. A quick flash in her eyes tells the boy that Kairi took note of its unnatural sharpness. "I just, y'know, had a dream. Weird dream. Someone was screaming at me, and I can still hear the voice echoing in my head…"

"I'd offer you an arm around the shoulder or something," Kairi says, pursing her lips. "But I'm kinda in the middle of something here." She briefly glances to the cockpit's other chair. "Riku, give Sora something affectionate for me, huh?"

Sora moves his gaze as well, just in time to notice the exaggerated grimace on the older man's face. "Yeah, I'm gonna pass on that. Sorry Sora."

The boy shrugs, looking away forlornly. "Oh no, how will I go on?" He shakes his head, unable to keep a playful smile from crossing his face. "If only I were Yuffie, then maybe…"

"Knock it off!" Riku practically whines, the shout barely heard over Kairi's raucous laughter up front. "And you, missy, just keep your eyes on the road!"

"Yeah, yeah," she replies flippantly, even as she honors his request. "Sorry if that came off as, I dunno, insensitive or whatever. You know we're totally behind you if that's what you wanna do, right? Or if you don't."

"But he does!" Sora assures his girlfriend, wagging a finger at the silver-haired young man. "C'mon Riku, take a chance. You know for a fact she's into you. And she hasn't even seen the abs!"

"They do complete the package," Kairi agrees just loud enough to hear. Hearing Riku's wordless grumbling, she switches tactics. "Riku, this is the perfect opportunity. We're going to a ball for goodness sake! I saw you two dancing at the wedding, and I have to say…"

"That's something else!" her boyfriend interrupts, snapping his fingers to accentuate the exclamation. "Azlyn and Telary are still on their honeymoon, which means she won't be there to make fun of you."

The excitement fades a bit at the reminder that Sora's other two best friends aren't going to be there to enjoy the party with. He's sure the newlyweds are having a lovely (and knowing them, incredibly steamy) time on their trip, but it would be nice for the pair to be at the ball. Especially considering they first got together at the last year's event, and that it's celebrating the restoration of their long-suffering homeworld.

Plus, even after just two weeks, he sincerely misses them.

Riku, meanwhile, only looks slightly encouraged by his friends' input. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But, uh, not to change the subject abruptly or anything, but when are Azlyn and Tel supposed to get back to the castle?"

"Smooth," Kairi says with a little giggle. "I think two weeks was what they had planned on, right?"

"You mean the great wedding planner didn't craft an exacting, minute-to-minute schedule?" Riku teases.

"I plannedthe wedding," Kairi shoots back, rolling her eyes even though he can't see. "What happens after isn't my department. Sora, do you know?" No response comes for several seconds. "Sora, hello?"

The boy in question still doesn't reply, simply staring out at a swirling nebula of blue and green. The space between worlds is so peaceful, relaxing in a way that can be rivaled only by the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. No matter how many times Sora stares into it, it never seems to lose its mystery and wonder. The colors, the calming mild undulation, the many stars…

Sora starts, sitting up a little straighter and intensifying his gaze. Maybe he's crazy, or still groggy from his nap, but he swears he sees a cluster of stars disappear from existence. Perhaps a dozen or so close points of lights become blank space. He opens his mouth, ready to shout a warning to his friends, mentally flashing back to the terrible storm that had ravaged his home.

But then, quickly as they vanished, the stars return. Gummi space remains the tranquil place it always is. Sora blinks, shaking his head just slightly in hopes of regaining some bearings. Had that really just happened?'

"Like is any of this for real," he mutters under his breath, for some reason recalling that he'd said these words before, "or not?"

His chair begins to shake, violently. With only the slightest gasp, Sora leaps from the seat. A shaft of light in his hand becomes the Kingdom Key in an instant, ready for danger. But when he finishes pivoting on his heel, the spiky-haired young man only sees Riku.

The other Keyblade wielder stares at him in bewilderment, both hands gripping the chair's back. The shaking's source, no doubt. "Man, you really are out of it. Seriously Sora, is everything okay?"

Sora dismisses his blade in another burst of light. With his hand free, he moves it to rub at the back of his neck. "Um, sure? I mean, yeah. Yes. Totally." He sighs, lowering the hand and looking down at the floor. "Weird dream. Lots of Keyblades, and some guy with my key, and the stars…"

"I can have us turned around in a second, Sora," Kairi says, looking at him with soft kindness and concern. "Or if you think that…"

"No, no!" Sora interrupts, holding up a hand to the redhead. "Sorry, no, I'm fine! Just the weird dream messed me up, and you know I feel awkward going to other worlds without Azlyn and Telary." He crosses to his chair, waving Riku away so he can take a seat and swivel to face Kairi. "We should be there for the Restoration Ball. The president of Bright Oasis is coming for his first diplomatic visit or whatever." The boy straightens up, preening exaggeratedly. "According to Leon, I'm important politically."

"There's something I never thought I'd hear," Riku declares, though it sounds slightly forced. Like something he merely felt he had to say. He's still looking at Sora warily, a slight frown turning down the corners of his lips.

Kairi is even worse, her brow fully furrowed. Sora just wants it that to stop, so he says, "Plus, you really were looking forward to this. And I am too. I've never let Nobodies and Heartless stop me, what's the big deal about one dream?"

His girlfriend doesn't say anything for a long moment, staring the Keybearer down like she can see right through to his heart. Then she sighs, turning back around as her face relaxes. But Sora can still see her looking at his reflection in the Gummiglass. Riku doesn't even do him the courtesy of pretending not to stare.

Sora ignores both of them, returning his gaze to where it had idled before. But this time, he can't seem to allow himself to relax.

Kingdom Hearts
Keys to the Kingdom
III

Within the darkest room of an otherwise blindingly white castle, a jade-skinned woman silently contemplates destiny. What exactly is it, she wonders, that determines someone's fate. Tides? The stars? Circumstances? Or perhaps it is simply whatever lies in a man or woman's heart, and the path one forges by using it as a guide.

But what if a one's fate is not their own? What if all sentient beings are nothing but puppets dancing to invisible strings? Can anything ever truly be determined by sheer force of stubborn mortal will?

Speaking of puppets, she can see her pair of them from the corner of her eye. Both men are tall and large, one's girth carved from firm muscle and the other's… not quite so much. One wears red, the other blue. Either one would willingly follow any command their mistress could see fit to give.

Would that it were only so simple to command the rest of the universe. Of course, she's been working on that. And while there is more work ahead, Maleficent welcomes it. The ultimate goal is within grasp, her fist merely waiting to be closed. And the time has finally come to show the power behind it.

"You are aware how important this task is, are you not?" the woman asks her servants in severe tones. Even without looking, she knows they've both leaped to attention at the sound of her voice. "Failure will not be tolerated, not even a partial one. You have all the tools necessary. All I require of you is the will."

"You got it, Maleficent!" the heavier minion declares, snapping off a crisp salute learned from younger days as a boatman's apprentice. "There ain't no way I'd let ya down this time. Or, uh, any other time ya ask me to do something. You say jump…"

"Be quiet," protests the other, sparing his partner a withering gaze. Once the other is sufficiently wilted, he turns back to his mistress. "I would not tolerate a failure any less than you would, my lady. It would impugn the warrior's honor with which I uphold myself." A brief pause, and then, "The, ah, Keybearer will be present, is that correct?"

"By all accounts, he is to be the star attraction at this atrocious gathering of fools," Maleficent replies. "Feel free to engage with him, if that is your desire. Just be sure not to do any permanent damage." Of course, the witch knows even the concept of such a thing is laughable. But, loyalty has to be built on something, does it not?

"I will endeavor to try," Gilgamesh replies. The faint rasp of his hands rubbing together in anticipation drifts through the room.

"Aw, let him be a glory hound," Pete says dismissively. "You can rest assured Maleficent, I'll keep my eye on the prize. It's the least I can do to repay all your generosity and caring." Everyone present simply ignores how paradoxical those words seem applied to the jade-skinned witch.

"See that you do," is all she says in reply, gazing out into nothing while concentrating on everything. "Today begins our long road to the end. To glory, and victory."

Pete and Gilgamesh bow, murmuring pledges of loyalty before they slink backwards out of the room. For a brief moment, bright white light pierces the rooms darkness. Then the door slides closed, and the gloom returns.

And so too does Maleficent return to her earlier contemplations. The final plan is in motion now, her loyal marionettes dancing under her control. That is the definition of power, when all is said and done. If the inhabitants of the worlds are puppets, then the only sensible goal is to gain control of as many strings as one can. And now, with her hands outstretched, Maleficent seeks to do just that.

But if all is puppetry, then what of the witch's own strings? Only she herself knows just how far back they reach, the hands that guide them concealed in shadow. But soon enough, all will know. Soon, all the strings will be theirs' to command.