irises found in eights

The boy was a fool.

Upon seeing him, standing there in all his borrowed and false glory, Vexen thought very little of the hero of light. The way he charged on without a single thought if his heart so much as willed it, was excruciatingly odd.

This was the child who was supposed to stop them?

It made him laugh, but looking back, maybe it hadn’t all been out of bewilderment.

If he was sincere, maybe it had been more along the lines of envy. And how laughable that he of all people had fallen so low to envy a misguided child.

But the little fool of a hero showed him a new light as he was struck back, standing his ground and fighting for those that shouldn’t have existed in the first place.

The child allowed his path to be guided by his own doing, even though he walked the rope that had been carefully laid out for him. Despite learning that his memories were false, he still charged forward, determined to help those at the end of his faux bonds.

If the child wished it, there was a heart to be found at the end of every chain.

Maybe that’s why he had tried to warn him. The misguided hero, who sought to save them in this desolate little world.

If only he could have guided him before he went out in a blaze, watching as a hand reached out for him, face frozen in horror.

How odd that one small action made him joyful and remorseful all the same. He wondered if anyone else worried like that when he had become a vessel.

(Such thoughtless pondering wasn’t meant for him.)

The place was vast and empty, an in-between of the realms he knew. Vexen can only exist as he felt himself floating adrift, his presence dimming in the quiet.

There’s a spark, and he watches as memories float by him, embedding themselves into his soul.

The time he scolded the boy for overeating sweets, fraught with worry when tears began to fall, the boy reaching out to him as he called out for parents long gone.

The time he saw his master hunched over files, deliberating on what to do as the situation around them worsened, slowly losing himself in his science and shutting them all out.

The time the winds blew away all the flowers they had planted, laughter bubbling in each of them despite all their hard work gone to waste, the twirling petals a reminder of the care they held for this land and each other.

In the space where nothing existed, and all was one, Vexen chuckled to himself, wondering when he had fallen so far. He had been so caught up in trying to achieve the impossible, he became nothing more than an empty shell of who he once was.

He thought back to the replicas he created and wondered if this was how they felt, being brought into existence as he played God for the organization.

What did they dream of in their little corners of the world? Had they desired to become real and follow their hearts just like the hero had done? Struggling against the limitations he imposed, he wondered over his replicas and all that they had stood for.

Had they merely been vessels or people searching for their own fates?

Everything was quiet, and as he finally felt his existence start to fade away, Vexen thought about many things, and how maybe he could have done them differently.

(His final thought was that he wished he could have asked the child what it meant to follow one’s heart.)

He was a fool.

As he stared up at the dim ceiling above him, Even pondered on his borrowed wisdom and how he had foolishly wielded it about. His body ached, and he curled his fingers, the sensations slowly returning to him.

His thoughts traveled to the castle, and to the boy who had stood radiantly amongst all the white walls and empty corridors, his gaze determined as he followed his heart.

Even raised his hand and laughed quietly, wondering if he would ever get the chance to thank him. He closed his eyes for a moment more, listening to the faint whirring of computers in the back.

(He had been given a second chance. He would make the most of it.)