I. Kairos; Thirteen After One

In which our protagonist didn't read the terms and conditions.

If Emryn Chae was the kind of person who believed beginnings started out with a simple 'Once Upon A Time' (which she was not, she's checked), then she would probably pin hers occurring on a day that was just like any other, in an eighth grade English class no less. Like any good fairy tale beginning (which she would never actually live, she'd add, muttering) it would open up with a little bit of hope. And for optimism's sake it'd be the inspiring kind too, going along the lines of something like this:

Once upon a time, a girl with budding aspirations, a mind that wandered and spun the impossible, and an orange binder full of blank paper discovered a spark of magic held together by a posy of words.

"Two roads diverged in, and I― I took the one less traveled by, and that made all the difference."

It was but one line among many others that were just like it, yet the difference it made was all the same still. She recalled having looked down at her binder then, the words feeding and coaxing the aspiring buds to softly unfurl their delicate petals and begin their bloom, and saw herself as a character waiting at the fork in the road. As naïve as she was at the time, the girl promised herself that she too would take that less traveled road. (Years later she'd look back at this moment and scoff at how simple she had been, but she'd never regret making this particular decision― it had provided her with a direction in life after all.)

Adventure lay ahead and she craved it.

That orange binder ceased to be full of nothing but blank papers, instead coming to revel in the wonders and mysteries that were wrought from a mind that traveled that unused road.

But not every beginning stays happy, and even less so magical. (Realistically speaking, she'd interject, Life was as much of a bitch as Karma was known to be. Go figure.) For a road that remained less traveled by, it did not necessarily mean it would never meet with one that was more so used, and that naïve girl did what everyone else did in time and grew up. She could not remain lost in her imagination forever― the real world did not allow for magic to remain as is, after all.

Or perhaps it was just that the real world was no match for magic. And if it could not beat it, it would turn everything away from it. Ignorance was often best served in layers― some more blatant than others ―and people were so easily enchanted by something that felt like bliss.

But magic always found a way to linger. (She wished it had just stuck to written words.) And it would always open an unused path for those willing to travel by it.

(Why, oh why, couldn't it just stick to written words?)

The walls of the room, just like everything else in this place, were worn and caked with layers of dust and faded paint alike. On certain patches, though, where rays of sunlight glinted through the cracked and warped panes of glass, bits of a painting eagerly revealed themselves.

A garden of flowers. A memento of permanence. A tribute to someone who loved the flowers they grew and hated to see them wither and die. Though the colors have nearly bled away, the stains they've left behind speak of a time when they knew of the vibrancy of reds and the softness of blues. When green was a color that trilled on and on about life, and yellow glowed as bright as the daylight beyond the walls. When it seemed as if the garden was really alive and right there in that room.

But even painted gardens could die.

No one in years had bothered to restore the manor, and yet it was apparent by the varying footprints in the dust that it was not a deterrent to tourists and adventure seekers...

Emryn pulled the pen away from the journal she had been writing in, glancing at the surroundings that she had been attempting to describe before looking back at the words she had written with a funny look. Her handwriting didn't particularly help her judgement either; a constant stream of change from top to bottom, all of it in cursive, print, and whatever the hybrid inbetween could be called. The passage looked even worse due to the clumsy speed she had jotted everything down at. Combine all of that with the almost wishy-washy tone she had incorporated― it was supposed to be mysterious for crying out loud ―then it just appeared as a pile of garbage to her.

But if there was one thing she had come to finally realize after years of writing, it was that first drafts usually were just a pile of trash. The better stuff tended to come about when revising it into another draft. However, it didn't prevent her from being critical of it in the moment.

'It's gotta be the bit just after I say how painted gardens can die. It just sounds so stupid and out of place… A weak transition...,' Already her pen was moving towards the words, ready to scribble them out and ink in an idea that went in a different direction.

"Hey, numb nuts!" A half gloved hand appeared in front of her face, the tips of thickly rounded fingers wiggling rapidly and coming dangerously close to skimming across the lenses of her glasses.

"Fucking hell!"

Emryn jerked away, glaring at the intruder upon her thoughts. A large dot appeared where she had accidentally stabbed the paper. The dark ink spread fast and managed to blot out a couple words before she removed her hand from the page.

The offender fully slipped into view and grinned in response, thin lips curling triumphantly as large, caramel eyes narrowed in amusement. Whenever Emryn saw her friend Cho smiling, she couldn't help but imagine she was looking at a monkey that had been messing around with something she shouldn't have been. (And knowing Cho then that may very well have been what she had done before her rude interruption.) Even the short and innocent bob of curly black hair couldn't negate the mischievous curve of her facial features.

"Oh, so you are still in touch with reality," Cho commented dryly. She tucked her hands into her coat and idled closer. "You know, if you're not gonna actually stay with the group then we could always just go back down the trail and hit the gift―"

"I told you I'd buy that ridiculous― bordering on hideous ―mug for you after we finished with today's tour." Em cut her friend off with an irritated grumble. She shuddered at the memory of the item her friend wanted before continuing. "But if you keep pushing the matter then I won't buy it at all!"

Removing her glasses, she held them towards the light just to make sure her companion hadn't really touched them. There was nothing new aside from the oily smudges that had collected at the corners closest to the nose pads. Regardless, she still rubbed at the lenses with the bottom of her shirt. Her squinting glare did not vanish after replacing her glasses.

Cho twirled around, kicking up dust as she went. "Well, I figured that since you were already checked out then the tour was as good as over for you. I just really want that mug! I mean, who wouldn't want to drink out of a goblin's head?"

"Uh, literally anyone but you?" She rolled her eyes and shut the journal.

"Well, I mean, you're technically not wrong." Cho ceased twirling and gave Em a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows. "I am the only one I know of that has a thing for ugly mugs. Sue me or kinkshame me, whatever you will― but the heart wants what it wants!"

"You're such a slut for awful mugs."

"Then that makes you my sugar daddy and enabler since you always buy them for me."

"You clearly mistake me for someone that's actually rich then." Her laugh turned to a groan as she pulled herself off of her perch― a fallen bookshelf that, thankfully, wasn't rotten through ―and stretched. The shorter girl chortled, still spinning around on her heels.

"Well you're old enough to be one," she retorted.

Emryn fixed her friend with a dead stare. "I'm nineteen."

"Again. Old."

She waved the other girl off and looked around again. It was awfully quiet. The tour group really must have gone off ahead, and Cho, having the shred of decency that all good best friends came with, had come back to get her. Not that she would have particularly minded if they had left her behind. It just felt easier to imagine when she was alone, and even more so while surrounded by the remains of something that had once seen the light of life. The less reality there was to focus on the easier a fantasy flowed. Besides, it wasn't like she couldn't find her way back to the lodge on her own if push came to shove.

Cho cleared her throat. "Well, if you're not going back to the lodge then I'm going to head back to the group. You coming?"

Shoving her journal and pen into the messenger bag at her, side Em nodded, still looking around, though she must have memorized everything about this room a thousand times over. Yet there was nothing she could do to prevent her eyes from wandering greedily from one detail to the next. This was the last place in Britain that the Mystery Haunts Tour Group― a European based tour that explored abandoned sites ―would be visiting before moving on to the next country. Coming on this trip was both something self-indulgent as well as an attempt to invigorate her writing. Travel was a cure all, she had heard. As for Cho… Well, aside from being a travel buddy she had come along for the ugly collectibles… mostly. So far, neither had been disappointed.

At a much slower pace, Emryn idled along after her friend. Though it was time to move on she found it difficult to tear herself away from this place. The stillness of her surroundings breathed an orphic beauty, and she had always been so easily seduced by things that found a way to remain untouched. Being here in this old abandoned house made her feel as if she had been placed in a completely different world. It was such a lucid feeling.

As she moved forward a thin shaft of light suddenly blinded her. Shielding her eyes, the young woman turned towards the source, catching sight of something glinting at the edge of a doorless frame― this leading into a room she had not yet looked into, being distracted enough by the one with gardens painted on the walls that she had barely even noticed this one coming in. She spared a glance at Cho, only to find her companion had already cleared the area.

'Just a quick look,' Emryn thought, biting her lip. 'It's not like it'll kill her to go back to the group without me.'

With that in mind she gladly let herself into the room. It was small, with only a long mirror that had a piece missing from the top right corner, a faded, moth eaten stool in front of it, and a grandfather clock that reminded her of a discarded skeleton. White paint, nearly completely peeled off, coated the antique in tandem with a healthy layer of dust. She stepped towards the clock, eyeing the way the sides of it curved in on itself while a cylindrical shaft of wood with wave like engravings protruded from its side in a winding manner. The effect was mimicked back and forth from top to bottom even around the face of the clock. The time was stopped exactly thirteen minutes after one.

A brow curiously lifted its way up her face as she pulled out her phone to take a picture. 'What an interesting time to cease your ticking. I wonder, was it day or night when it happened?'

She caught the time on her lockscreen and noted with a snort that she was only three minutes away from matching the dead clock. The picture was taken quick and painlessly before she rounded on the mirror.

It struck her as the kind of spot that people would stand in while being fitted into new clothes. Already she could imagine the thick swaths of fabric fanning out, the pleats stretching from where they were gathered at the waist, and the smile the lady of the house would give as she admired her image. Daughters would stand here trying out dresses from suitors and children would fidget while waiting on the stool. Young men straightened their coats and fixed the bows of their ties. This mirror had seen many people, but now it hardly ever received an admirer.

Emryn drew closer to examine the intricate details along the frame. The engravings were similar to those on the clock, wavelike and swirling. She reached out and gingerly felt along the worn wood. Her reflection peered back at her through the cracks and dust in silent, wide eyed awe.

Eyes, dark and grey, yet tinged blue to look like slate, peered back at her through rectangular lenses. There was bruising beneath those eyes that came from nights where sleep abandoned her, but it was something that could be ignored as long as she didn't get in too close to her reflection. With a free hand she shifted layered hair and parted it more to the right so the bangs were more prominent as they curled around her squarish face. Her gaze honed in on the top of her head where a sizeable portion of her roots sprouted like a dark spring and bled into the fading sunset that had become of the red dye she had used.

Further down she wore a deep, wine colored jacket; it couldn't close properly, being that it was crossed over itself at the top and held in place by a large button, leaving some of her stomach exposed. The shirt beneath it was thin and black. Her jeans were plain and comfortable and her running shoes had definitely seen better days, and as usual her oversized bag hung at her side. That was Emryn, cute when she was actually feeling it, but mostly plain and tired.

Mostly she enjoyed the anonymity that an appearance like this granted her, but every now and then she couldn't help but wish to be the kind of person everyone looked for in a crowd.

"Em? Where'd ya go?" Cho's voice sounded from somewhere far off. The young woman startled out of her reverie, looking away from the mirror with a reply ready on her lips.

"I'm in―"

She paused and glanced back at the mirror, brows furrowing. Did something just move?

"Em?"

She turned back to the mirror and leaned in a little closer. Nothing appeared to be out of place, and the only thing that moved was her. Emryn blinked, pushing up her glasses as she rubbed her eyes. Perhaps she had just moved too fast or got blinded by the light again― her vision acted up and did weird things when that happened, resulting in her having to do a double take on more than just one occasion. Although for a second there she could have sworn the mirror had… rippled.

"Come on Em, don't do this to me. I swear I'll sock you if you jump out at me again. Just because we're in an abandoned house…," Emryn shook her head. First she disorients herself by seeing things in the mirror, then her hearing decides to do a one-eighty by turning the volume down on Cho's voice (with every word she said no less)? Maybe it was time to head back to the lodge.

But as she tried to turn away, her knuckles met with the surface of the mirror; it was icy and sent chills racing through her despite being bathed in the light of the sun.

Her body froze.

She stared at the dead clock with eyes opened wide, unable to discern if they should be so in surprise or fear, or even fearful surprise. The clock leered at her with its abstract time, almost as if it were judging her― and what it saw it clearly thought of as pitiful. A deep chime resonated from within the depths of her mind, rattling her so hard she could have sworn her head was vibrating from the force. Through the tumult a voice, a whisper so perfectly clear, weaved its way between each toll of the bell; it was in Emryn's own voice that she thought, but the thoughts were not her own.

'Mirror, mirror on the wall

The clock striked the boundary's fall

You who answered the beckon, the call

The path has opened, take it, for none, for all.'

There came a tug and a wave of cold enveloped her hand, the feeling reminiscent of being plunged into frigid water. The sensation climbed higher and higher as it dragged the young woman in even further. Her head met with the cool surface, sliding halfway through without the pain of resistance; she gasped like a shocked fish fresh from the water. Emryn struggled to no avail. Her body still refused to yield to her, instead allowing itself to be pulled even closer to the mirror. Not even her mouth would obey. Within seconds the rest of her fell through the looking glass.

The first thing Emryn was reminded of was the last time she had gone to the beach. Being mid-April at the time then the waters were still icy and stung like pins and needles in a sleepy foot. The waves were larger than herself and churned with an intensity that bordered a fierce behavior. Getting caught in one of those waves was equal parts thrilling as it was frightening.

In this moment, as she spun through liminal space, Emryn felt like she was left to the mercy of those waves once again. Tumbling with no sense of up or down, blinded with no room to breathe, no room to think. The only thing missing from this experience was salt water shooting up her nose and coating the back of her throat with its disgusting taste.

Suddenly the pressure lifted and the cold was replaced with toasty, arid air. She sailed freely before catching the ground with her shoulder, her cheek following up the catch with a fair amount of rug burn. Eventually, awkwardly, she rolled to a stop; glasses missing, body bruised, and the strap of her bag was threatening to strangle her. The ringing in her ears bore an uncanny resemblance to a group of women shrieking and the newfound pain prevented her from so much as straining a single muscle. Groaning, however, was an available option, and Emryn took great advantage of this.

Slowly, Emryn began to peel herself from the floor, blinking blearily at the smosh of reds and greens that were spread across the carpet, her cheek raw and prickling. Everything spun, and for a moment and her stomach lurched threateningly. It calmed as her arms gave out beneath her, planting herself resolutely against the solid floor. The shrill sound still rang ruthlessly in her ears, and as she turned her head she managed to catch sight of a bright flurry disappearing through an open door. Her surroundings quieted along with the incessant ringing that had been plaguing her.

As soon as everything quit spinning she attempted to sit up again. Massaging her shoulder, the young woman oriented herself in the direction she had been so graciously flung from, wondering just what in the hell had happened. She expected to see Cho behind her, questions already forming; had she just endured some kind or seizure, or even just randomly flipped the frick out? It was just one vivid, violent daydream, right?

"Oh no, this is quite truly one vivid, violent reality. Lovely, isn't it?" An incredibly pale face with bright green eyes shoved its way into her field of vision.

"What in the ever loving — !" Emryn screeched, scuttling as far away from the stranger as she possibly could. She hadn't realized she'd actually been talking outloud! "What the — is going on?! Who the — are you?!"

Her hand instantly hand slapped across her mouth before shifting down to wring her throat. Where did her swear words go? Why couldn't she say them even though they were so painfully hanging off the tip of her tongue? With panic mingling in an increasing sense of confusion, she tried to say a few more choice words only to find that, with them, her voice still got cut off. There was only minimal comfort in knowing that at least her thoughts remained uncensored.

"Dear oh dear me, you seem to have lost some of your words." Her gaze, so resolutely fixed on nothing, gravitated towards the stranger and she openly gawked at him. (What she could clearly make out, anyways.) "And you've lost this spectacular pair of seeing glass as well. You must have caught a bad case of lostness if you've lost so much already."

The man shuffled towards her while holding out what vaguely resembled her glasses. Emryn held perfectly still as he crouched in front of her, sticking her glasses on the tip of her nose and pushing them up with a single finger and a crooked smile. Everything about him popped out at her the moment the lenses came into place. From his uneven spring green eyes to the odd blue-pink combo surrounding them, up to the outrageously long eyebrows that sat just above― it was ridiculous but that wasn't all. Just as out there as his eyebrows were, so was his hair― shockingly orange and even more shocked into curling straight out from his head, giving her the impression that he'd been playing with electricity on more than one occasion. All he was missing was a hat, and then he'd be the complete version of Tim Burton's…

"Mad Hatter," she breathed, dumbfounded. But that couldn't be― he was just one of many fictional characters played by Johnny Depp! (Speaking of, this guy bore an uncanny resemblance to the actor, and just acknowledging it caused an uncomfortable shiver to run down her back.)

The man stood up, backing away just a few paces, his crooked grin only growing wider. To further her disbelief― and to her outright horror ―he spun his body around exactly three times. And the worst part? He never broke eye contact once. She knew she had problems seeing things, but not to this extent. How hard had she hit her head?

He finished off the disconcerting greeting with a deep bow, speaking quickly as he moved.

"A hatter that I am. Mad is just another part of what I aim to be. It seems that you know me, but the reverse can't be said the same you see. I know me and you know you― Or is it that we know me but we don't know you? In which case I've forgotten who was who."

Emryn clambered to her feet and stumbled away in an attempt to put more distance between herself and the man. "There's no way― This can't be happening! It's just impossible!"

"That's the most untruest thing to ever untruth." He tutted, as if he couldn't believe she'd said that. "Nothing is impossible. The word itself says I'm―"

"Possible, yes I know how the ― saying goes. As a writer I think about a number of impossible things all throughout the day." She snapped before he could finish the phrase, edging closer towards incensed at the feeling of being censored yet again. "It doesn't mean that I actually expect those things to happen. And this― this constitutes as one of those things!"

None of this could possibly be happening to her right now. She couldn't have fallen through a mirror or ended up in a completely different world just on the other side. Mirrors didn't just snatch people up and weird, vaguely threatening mantras didn't just pop into her head while she stared at clocks! Not unless she was the one putting them there! She was no Alice, there was no Wonderland or Underland or whatever this place was supposed to be called, and the impossible was just that― Impossible! Things like magic existed nowhere but in words on pieces of paper, and even that could be shot down by the little things known as science and common sense.

"Hello? Missey?"

Emryn wrung her hands and continued to rationalize her immediate problem, pacing clockwise as she did so.

She was on a tour of abandoned and possibly haunted buildings. If this was somehow apart of it then a little warning of some kind would have been great. After all she hadn't paid for this. What, were they all just hiding somewhere nearby, watching her freak out like an idiot while having a good laugh as she debated over the true meaning of impossible with a Johnny Depp impersonator-droid-thing?

What if someone had spiked her drink when she wasn't looking? There was that one guy in the group― Alec What's-his-nuts ―that gave her the uncomfortable chills whenever they made eye contact. He also had this smell about him that suggested he performed certain recreational activities on the side. But even with all his questionable traits he barely ever approached her, and she'd always done her damndest to stay away from him.

Could Cho have possibly done this to get back at her for all the times she pulled a jump scare on her? Somehow this idea sounded worse than the last.

'When I get my hands on her she is so dead!'

"Hello? Are you alright?" Emryn shrieked as she was brought back to her current situation, batting away the hands rapping on her head. The Hatter Actor blinked rapidly while drawing his arms in close, edging away from her in confusion.

"I've gotta get out of here," she muttered fiercely as she avoided making eye contact with the stranger. Her eyes darted from corner to corner, flitting from the large cross hatched windows to the somewhat smaller table with bolts of fabric piled upon it, onto the half clothed mannequins and past the ruby red curtains that were only partially drawn about midway into the room. Finally her eyes landed on the door and, with hurried strides, she made a move for it. As she did so she dug out her phone from her pocket and dialed Cho's number with every intent of getting an explanation as to what the hell was going on.

As the dial tone rang she stepped out into a dim stone corridor, surprised to see that the room behind her wasn't the end of the set she had presumably stumbled onto. Carpet the same color as her coat covered the floor while banners with gold trimmings hung four to five feet apart along the wall. Graceful arches made from a dark wood bridged one side of the hall to the other, each gentle curvature placed after every three banners. Faintly she caught the sound of something metallic clanking and echoing through the hall.

"If I were you I would go back the way I came." The Hatter Actor called out and Emryn glanced at him over her shoulder, the phone slipping away from her ear. "You won't be able to get out that way, not without meeting the bloody Big Head."

'Bloody Big Head equals the Red Queen,' her brain, as panicky as it was being, needlessly translated that for her. With an irritated flick of her head Em cast off the useless trivia and focused more on the suggestion part of the guy's comment.

Go back the way she came? What was she supposed to do, just step back into the mirror and pop back into the abandoned mansion? Did the mirror even work as a two way door? What if this was some kind of test? Was everyone else going to be gathered together on the other side ready to yell 'surprise!' or some other cheesy prank type BS?

Emryn gnawed on her lower lip before glancing at her still ringing phone. Cho wasn't bothering to pick up; no doubt she really was on the other side of that mirror, laughing it up and getting ready to say that she had officially owned Em at her own game. If that was the case then she was going to have words with her best friend.

Making up her mind, the young woman ended the call and stalked back into the Hatter's room― or prison, she could say, based off her memory of the movie.

Giving the Hatter Actor a wide berth as she approached, Em folded her arms and cast a skeptical look at the mirror. It was almost identical to the one that was in the abandoned mansion, save that there was not a fragment out of place. It was complete. That alone was strange, but not really the topic to pursue at the moment.

She hedged through her next question with uncertainty. "So what, I just… climb back through it or something?"

"I wouldn't know. I've never traveled by mirror."

For a second Emryn stared hard at the bizarre man that absently fidgeted next to her supposed mode of transport, his airy answer doing nothing whatsoever except making her blood pressure rise. It was getting more and more difficult to tell whether he was just really good at acting, or if he was just seriously delusional the longer she continued to associate with him.

'If something doesn't start to make sense in the next five seconds it won't be the Red Queen who's yelling off with their heads,' she promised darkly.

It was undoubtedly the worst timing on her part to throw out an ultimatum.

The loud clanking she had faintly caught in the hallway had grown louder, quicker, as if it had just rounded the corner. The Hatter Actor's attention jerked towards the doorway and his expression quite literally darkened. His eyes shifted and morphed into a harsher, more golden color, while the shadows seemed to draw inwards and create a hollow space around his eyes. It was like watching spring revert into winter and Emryn had never felt so unsettled.

He turned to her with a deep set frown and she automatically stepped back.

"Time's flying you by, dearie." Em jumped as his high, cheery voice was replaced with a deep and guttural accent. A pale hand snaked out and latched onto her arm, forcing her to turn and face the mirror. "On with you! Away!"

"But what am I even supposed to do?!" she protested. It wasn't like she'd come flying in with an instruction manual on hand! For all she knew this mirror only went one way!

Her heart thudded harshly against her ribs as the maddened man gave her a powerful shove towards the mirror. Em caught the frame and steadied herself, her nose just barely ghosting the cold surface, and her reflection stared back at her in terror.

"Just go!" the man hissed. "Before the cards―"

The sounds of metal crashing against metal drowned out his words and Emryn, free of his powerful grip, whirled around. Entering the room like ants spilling forth from a hill there came from the door an onslaught of rusted red tin cards more than twice her size and wielding heart tipped spears. Her jaw fell slack as she watched them continue to fill the room, falling in alternating order in a half circle, leaving no room for escape. The moment each card stopped, pointed heart after pointed heart was leveled and aimed to pierce right through one part of her or another.

To her credit Emryn didn't react as she had when the Hatter Actor had greeted her. At least, that's how she made it appear on the outside anyways. On the inside she was one irrational threat away from losing the little rational sense she had managed to scrap together.

With an almost audible gulp, she thought, 'If my day gets any worse, I'm asking Hell if they're having an exchange program with my sanity today.'

"Now what did I come in here for again?" Cho stood in the middle of the dusty room, glancing over the decór― or the lack thereof, really. All there was to see was a dirty, broken mirror and its moth eaten best friend and dead relative. Not really exciting. If anything the rest of the house was more entertaining.

Still… She had come in here for a reason, hadn't she?

The young woman cast an accusatory glance at the doorway behind her― or else more commonly what she liked to call 'God's-cheat-for-cancelling-Sim's-action'. It was the only thing that could have possibly made her forget what whim she was trying to complete. (She refused to believe she was genuinely a forgetful person. There was just no way the great Cho Bishop could be that simple!)

After standing in the barren room a little bit longer in an attempt to jog her memory, Cho gave up with a pout and a sigh. It seemed no matter how much she racked her brain she wasn't going to remember anything. And as was her policy, if it didn't come back to her right away then it probably wasn't that important to begin with.

Cho turned on her heel at the same time she directed her thoughts to something of superior importance. With an impish grin the young woman began to hum gleefully as she left the dusty old room.

"Goblin mugs~ Goblin mugs~ All for me! Goblin mugs~."

Her cackles echoed merrily through the abandoned mansion before the silence swallowed them whole.

Kairos: The perfect, delicate, crucial moment;

the fleeting rightness of time

and place

which creates the opportune atmosphere

For action, movement or

Words.

Disclaimer: Honestly I never understood the point of these things because clearly I don't own any major franchises, but whatever. I'll say this once and one time only, any disclaimers hereafter will only be for references to songs or other obscure things. I do not own Kingdom Hearts or anything else in the Square Enix/Disney industry. I also do not own the quote at the beginning of the story. That belongs to Robert Frost and his poem "The Road Not Taken.

With that out of the way, hello! And welcome to my story! I'm a little nervous to be posting this trope is kind of overdone (and it's how I usually feel writing for a different fandom for the first time), but hopefully the twist I'm working on will make it worth it. Reviews/ConCrit are very much welcome so don't be shy! Happy readings!