#twst keyblade reader

Crewel spoke with a deceptively calm voice. “Headmaster,” he said, smiling without warmth, “are you implying that the reason Yuu is going around in uniforms that are centuries out of date is because you failed to provide any alternative?”

At least Crowley has enough sense to recognize the danger he'd just brought upon himself. “Ah, well, I wouldn't put it like that. Night Raven was founded on principles of self-sufficiency after all…”

“As the headmaster of this institution,” Trein interrupts, “it is your responsibility to ensure incoming students are equipped with basic necessities and informed of the resources available to her as a student.”

His eyes narrowed. “Does she even know that Night Raven College provides its students with their first set of uniforms?”

Crowley wilted under the scrutiny. “The circumstances around Miss Yuu’s enrollment are highly irregular” he protests weakly. “My teacher’s intuition tells me that with a little extra independence–”

“–Not neglect,” Trein snapped, “nor institutional embarrassment. Your sloppiness reflected poorly on the rest of us, Crowley.”

He inhaled, steadying himself. For all that the headmaster has managed to successfully preside over a school dominated by humans, there were moments, far too many, when his inhuman perspective caused needless complications. 

Trein will easily admit that the headmaster's hands-off approach when handling NRC’s students is usually well suited with fostering the school's ideals. Unlike RSA which coddles its students, NRC believes in a more hands off, sink-or-swim approach to education. Society thrives when dark-hearts learn to overcome hardships and create their own opportunities. This, combined with the old crow’s skills with politicking has been a great boon to the university.

However, none of this absolves the administration of its obligations. Dire has had centuries to adapt, and Trien has never been one to allow excuses for failure.

“It is imperative,” he continued, “that our students are provided with the most up-to-date texts and equipment available. Education cannot proceed if the foundation is unsound.”

Sam chuckles good naturedly, “I can get the little imp hooked up with their starter supplies. We’ll just charge it to the headmaster’s account."  

Of course Crowley rushes to defend his budget. “That seems rather hasty–”

“Thank you, Sam,” Trein speaks over the crow, "it is our duty to ensure all students are equipped at the start of their education, lest we allow Night Raven to be found wanting compared to… other academies." 

Specifically Royal Swords, is left unsaid but heard by everyone.

Crewel, either feeling helpful but more likely out of offence at your current wardrobe, offers to tailor a modernized female uniform. “I recall finding some references to the uniforms used when Night Raven was a co-ed school.” He says thoughtfully “I imagine they're all rather archaic, but should provide an adequate base for me to start with.”

This support, they all agree, extended only to your initial provisions. Should you fail to maintain them, finding replacements will be entirely up to you. Night Raven provides opportunity, but will not shield students from the consequences of their choices. That was the principle upon which the school prided itself.

The meeting comes to a close as Trein continues to lecture Crowley on the importance of keeping the rest of the administration informed, and how a student's unique circumstances do not absolve the headmaster of his obligations.

…

The results are immediate.

Your appearance and demeanor shift noticeably over the following days. The ragged uniform and battered knapsack vanished, replaced by a more modernized uniform and a sleek backpack, courtesy of Crewel and Sam respectively.

From the waist up, your attire mirrored the male uniform closely, though the cut was adjusted for a feminine frame. Below, a pleated black skirt with gold trim replaced the slacks, paired with dark grey stockings and polished loafers. The Ramshackle armband, in a muted grey, is neatly secured on your sleeve. Sam’s contribution is equally evident in the backpack now slung over your shoulder, lighter than it looks and far more durable than its sleek exterior suggests, all on the headmaster’s tab. 

Regarding your behavior, Lucius notices the change before Trein consciously does. The cat watches you with narrowed eyes from his perch atop the lectern, tail flicking thoughtfully as you enter the classroom.

You still drifted at times during lectures. Your gaze would unfocus, attention slipping somewhere just beyond the classroom walls. But when addressed directly, you respond without hesitation. Your answers are usually accurate to the textbook, though often lacking in context that most are expected to have learned prior to attending NRC. 

At least you try to make up for this and usually stay behind after class to ask more questions. Usually regarding concepts most students absorb in childhood, civic structures, historical events, social hierarchies, you approach it all as completely new material.

This would be unusual on its own but you don't just linger to ask questions. During the conversations you will move around the classroom, straightening chairs, collecting discarded papers, and otherwise restoring order to the room.

At first Trein assumes it was just an attempt to ingratiate herself to him. Such behavior is common among first-years who believe deference might substitute for effort.They eventually stop once he's made it clear that the only thing he cares about is consistent academic performance.When the behavior persists into the following week, he addresses it.

“What do you expect to come from this?” he asks, tone neutral.

You blink, faintly startled by the question. “Isn’t this normal?” you reply. “Back in grade school we’re taught to clean the classroom together after lessons. I guess I just got used to tidying up. Don’t you all have something similar?”

“No,” He answers with a raised eyebrow, “we do not.”

At that moment, Grim chooses to voice his displeasure.

“This is dumb!” the creature snaps, sprawling across a chair you’d just straightened. “Why d’we gotta stay late? Class is over!”

You turn toward him, irritation briefly breaking through your composure. “It’s only a few minutes,” you say, already moving the chair back into place. “And it's not difficult. If more people helped, it’s done faster.”

Grim grumbles, but Trein observes the exchange closely. Your tone isn't exactly scolding but there's a bit of annoyance. It carries the expectation that participation is assumed.

As a scholar of history and societal studies Trein finds his interest sharpening.

Your home (town, village, enclave, the precise terminology remains unclear) most likely relies on structured communal habits to regulate behavior. Perhaps your schools are tasked with social conditioning as well as education.

Trein can see the logic, appreciate it even. He has long believed that when discipline is instilled early, dark-hearts are better equipped to regulate their impulses without constant external pressure.

Of course, not everyone agrees with such methods. 

While Trein raised his daughters with the same care that he held for his darling wife, he knows that not everyone shares this mindset. Some guardians attempt to use their darling’s attachment to their children as emotional leverage. Others treat children as extensions of their darling rather than individuals, molding them to serve adult needs rather than preparing them for independence. Still others swing in the opposite direction, neglecting dark-hearted children entirely under the guise of “letting them grow strong.” Personally, Trein believes such arguments are just lazy justifications for poor childrearing.

Clearly a more structured upbringing has worked on you, if your current behavior is anything to go by. Unlike the rest of your peers with their constant posturing, you act as though cooperation is the default state rather than something to be negotiated. You show no interest in asserting dominance, nor any awareness that such displays are expected. Trein finds this deeply peculiar; even students of Royal Swords Academy participate in their own hierarchies, however subtle and politely framed.

Lucius yawns in Trein’s arms and settles in the professor's arms for a light doze.

Trein left the room thoughtful. Habits, he knew, are often more revealing than words. Yours suggested a background shaped by communal responsibility rather than individual ambition, a framework that would inevitably surface in other behaviors, subtle but persistent, as you continued to navigate an institution built to promote competition before cooperation.

…

Later in the week, Trein encounters Crewel while heading toward Foothill Town. The two walk together in companionable silence for a time, discussing administrative matters and the usual early-term disturbances, until Crewel decides to bring up the school's newest irregular student.

“It seems our intervention wasn’t entirely wasted,” Crewel said, tone clipped. “She's improved, markedly so. That first day, I feared we were dealing with an especially unrefined mutt, but proper supplies and a real uniform appear to have been what was needed.”

“I’ve noticed similar progress,” Trein replies. ““She remains after nearly every lecture, to request additional references, clarification, or recommendations for independent study.”

Crewel’s lips quirk into a faint smirk. “If only the other problem pups were so cooperative."

Trein regards him sidelong. Despite the potion master's seeming complement, the two had known each other long enough for the elder to recognize something in his tone.

“Theres still something you're dissatisfied with.”

Crewel hums. “She’s withdrawn during Capture and Care,” he admits. “And it’s not the typical boredom I have to put up with when covering the introductory material.”

“Is that so?”

“In Alchemy she engages readily with the material,” Crewel says, “in Capture and Care she acts like an inattentive student, withdrawn and scared to be called upon. It's as though she hasn’t prepared at all.”

“And yet,” he adds, irritation creeping into his tone, “when pressed, she provides correct answers. Not terribly detailed perhaps, but accurate. It's the inconsistency that troubles me.”

“If this behavior were limited to Alchemy, I could dismiss it as selective interest,” Crewel says. “But every other instructor reports steady engagement. Capture and Care is the sole exception.”

Trein thinks back to his past interactions with you. In his own class you've demonstrated steady progress. Indeed, you're practically a model student. You take notes diligently, request supplementary texts when needed, and linger after class to ask questions. 

“There are certainly areas where her foreign origins are evident,” Trein says. 

Trein recalls the nature of your inquiries. You ask for definitions most students take for granted, heart-alignment classifications beyond the most basic dichotomy, the historical rationale behind light-heart protection statutes, the distinction between custodial guardianship and voluntary custody.

You struggle most with the legal aspects of it all. Dark-heart autonomy laws, international accords governing attachment conduct, and the efforts made over the last century to standardize childcare across borders. 

These are hardly obscure topics. In fact, nearly all of your questions are about things that most students would have absorbed in childhood. Your ignorance would be more irritating if not for your initiative.

He’s even observed you attempting to assist the dire beast and those two Heartslabyul first-years. Grim makes some sense, the headmaster informed the staff about your agreement to take responsibility for the little beast.

But the other two boys? That’s more curious. Most NRC students are still jockeying for position within their dorms, testing limits, establishing dominance through conflict. Yet you approach them without caution, and more unusually still, they respond without resistance.

Just how far have your people diverged from the rest of Twisted Wonderland for you to be like this?

Despite the potential breach of professionalism, Trein can't help but wish to study you more closely. 

After the final class of the week, he finds you restoring order to the classroom once again. The two of you maintain a polite chat for a pit, only interrupted by your direbeasts complaints. It's while you're moving the last chairs into its rightful place that he broaches the subject.

“You’ve shown notable improvement since your first day,” he says. “Not only in my course, but according to several of your instructors.”

You flush faintly at the praise, mumbling a quiet thanks. Grim, in contrast, puffs up visibly, preening as though the compliment were his own.

“And how are you finding the rest of the curriculum?” Trein continues. “Are you adjusting adequately?”

You hesitate.

“Most classes are fine,” you say carefully. “There are just a couple that are… difficult.”

“In what way?”

“Well,” you begin, searching for the right words, “we don’t really have versions of some subjects where I come from. So I don’t always have a frame of reference.”

“Oh?” Trein says, curiosity sharpening his tone.

“Yeah. And there’s one, Capture and Care, it’s…” You trail off.

Trein waits in silence as you search for the right words.

“Before Night Raven, I had some… bad experiences,” you say quietly. “Followed by a really big failure. I’m mostly working through it, but C&C just feels like it was made to rub salt in the wound.”

This time when you fall silent Trein simply nods and makes no move to press further. Some silences can be invitations, but others are clear boundaries. This is clearly the latter. 

Still, as you gather your things and leave, his thoughts linger.

And while he accepts your reluctance, professional curiosity, and something almost like concern, tells him this matter is far from settled.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You– Ace – Trein – Skully

Authors note:

Waking up in the NRC coffin is the fourth time you've experienced the beginning of an isekai storyline. First was when you were reborn into a modern-ish world of paranormal activity. Your new family surname is Yuu and your family took the revelation of your past life surprisingly well.

Second was when you got your Keyblade (Twilight Dream) and you realised your new life is a disney crossover. This would have been a lot cooler if it didn't also come with an invasion of heartless and other Darkness-aligned monsters. Unfortunately your new disney MC powers come with a tragically orphaned backstory which… honestly you would rather be a generic background character.

But you and your siblings carry on. Your family is moved to the United Lands of Disney, the main world for Keyblade wielders and their allies. Your older sister Addie takes charge of you and your younger brother Zain. The three of you continue your lives in this new world, and you get enrolled in a special Keyblade program. Because at some point in the past people realized that letting untrained kids wander around looking for fights isn't the most efficient use of resources in the war against Darkness.

The third was the only time you had any sort of agency over the matter. In order to graduate and become a fully qualified Keyblade Hero™ wielders travel to a world with a relatively small darkness incursion. They are accompanied by two keyblade heroes who provide backup. The prospective hero is meant to develop a Keychain under the supervision of their seniors. 

Keychains are physical representations of the Wielder’s light and friendship. Keychains can manifest when a Wielder faces off against Darkness alongside non-Wielder friends. Each Keychain is unique but you can predict its powers and appearance based on the friends the Wielder is fighting alongside, and the nature of the danger they are facing. Along with granting special powers and altering the blade's appearance, the wielder gains an outfit that further represents the friendship that created the Keychain. 

So the day of your graduation quest comes and your siblings send you off with the surprise gift of a health charm made from your parents' wedding rings. It's a labour of love and you're left genuinely speechless.

You wind up being sent to a world called Wonderland (you think you can guess what it's going to be like). Your team consisted of yourself, Yuuken Enma, and Yuuya Kuroki. The three of you were introduced to each other by Oujou Yuuna, another Keyblade hero who thought it was funny that so many of the latest batch of Keyblade wielders had some variant of yuu in their name.

Team Yuu might have started as a joke, but over the years you've grown to really appreciate the support and guidance of your seniors. Your gratitude has never been greater than when you discovered that travel out of Wonderland was being sabotaged, and soon entry would also be impossible.  The rest of Team Yuu was already waiting at disney to celebrate your return, when they were informed of the situation they rushed to provide backup.

It feels like every adventure revealed some new stakes that made your journey even more stressful. Turns out Wonderland is the homeworld of Maleficent, a longtime foe of King Mickey, who disappeared a hundred years ago.

The reason she disappeared? The Thorn Fairy was setting up Wonderland to become the staging ground for her ascension as the one True Master of All Darkness. If she goes through with the ritual but it fails, then Wonderland will become overrun by Darkness. It's residents would transform into a potentially more dangerous type of heartless. The world would become the staging ground for a universe-spanning war.

In the unlikely event that she succeeds then a similar situation would play out, just with Maleficent at the head instead of Darkness. 

Thankfully the people back home came up with a solution. Maleficent needed to harness the power of heartless created from six powerful individuals, however if you can slay them in time then the ritual should be disrupted enough to destroy her wards and save Wonderland from heartless-ization.

Only Maleficent knows for certain who’s hearts she intended to use, so Team Yuu splits up to track down the prospective heartless. It shouldn't be too hard, how many powerful, strong willed, darkness imbued people can there be?

A lot. There were a lot. Maleficent must have altered the ULD’s records because this world is definitely not Low-Darkness/Low-risk.

Normally Keyblade heroes are supposed to lay low and keep their full powers hidden from the locals. There's even a whole system for sending heroes to worlds where they are or look like one of the most common sentient races. This is meant to prevent the contamination of worlds that haven't learned to reach out to worlds.

Team Yuu does not have time for that. There are way too many fires that need to be put out for you guys to even think about subtlety. Armies that can be summoned from an indestructible cauldron. A global child trafficking ring that disguises its victims as donkeys. Undead pirates rampaging across the seas. Literally every country has at least one ongoing coup attempt.

(This is not the wonderland Lewis Carroll promised you!)

Even after throwing stealth out the window Team Yuu struggles to catch up with the Thorn Fairy’s machinations.  

Good news: you manage to stop Maleficent from becoming an unstoppable god of darkness. (mostly).

Bad news: the ritual seems to have taken on a mind of its own and it intends to see things through. Maleficent lost control and has been transformed into a heartless and now you have no idea what could happen. 

Team Yuu is ordered to evacuate. Your support back home took advantage of a disruption you caused to create a one-time path for you back home. Plan B is to seal off the now twisted Wonderland and try to quarantine the world.

It's unfortunate, but the only way the world could be saved now is if one of the Yuu’s had a Keychain made from defeating each of the people used to make a heartless for the ritual. They could theoretically use those bonds to stabilize Wonderland and mitigate the worst of darkness's power.

About that… Coincidence is a funny thing. 

Somehow between all the traveling, team ups, and wacky shenanigans, you managed to be present for the creation of every heartless used in Maleficent’s plot. And wouldn't you know it, you have a Keychain formed from each confrontation.

We all know where this is going, but everyone objects anyway. There's no guarantee that it will work, and even if it does there's no guarantee you'll survive. Someone invites Addie and Zain to the call and now they're yelling at you through a gummiphone.

And it's not like you want to die. This mission has been a train wreck from start to finish. The whole world felt like it was hand-crafted to stress you out. 

But despite your nerves, your queasy stomach and shaking hands, you go through with it. Because even if it's a hot mess, Wonderland doesn't deserve to be abandoned. The people you've met deserve the chance to live. Your friends deserve a happily ever after.

There's no way to tell if you succeed, but even as your legs give out and black spots gather at the edge of your vision, you find peace in the knowledge that you did your best.

…

And now here we are. Isekai number four. You survived your heroic sacrifice which is nice, great even!

But also whatever force that kept you alive also sent you to a boarding school that worships your greatest enemies for some fucking reason. 

The world isn't overrun by Darkness, so that's good. But it's definitely not the same world you entered for your graduation. Twisted Wonderland indeed. You quickly learn about the biggest impact of Maleficent's failed ascension.

Blot. 

A type of darkness that takes a liquid form. It feeds off of magic and negative emotions. The biggest difference between blot and regular darkness is that rather than turning people into self-replicating heartless, blot induces a transformation known as overblot. When someone becomes consumed with blot a second being known as a phantom is formed. If the overblot is allowed to progress long enough then the phantom consumes its creator and goes on a rampage.  

It looks like most people can be broken out of an overblot state fairly quickly thanks to an organization called STYX. In the modern era most phantoms are left over from past ages when the world wasn't as united. Still, if a strong enough mage undergoes overblot then their magic can offer it enough power that STYX cannot save them, and the resulting phantom is leagues stronger than the average phantom.

Furthermore, vast swaths of land are rendered inaccessible due to a blot-based miasma that sends people into madness. Only phantoms have been recorded as surviving extended time in miasma-rich areas. There is an ongoing issue of phantoms leaving the miasma to ravage nearby lands. Some texts theorize that powerful phantoms from ages past have survived in the miasma and may one day follow their lesser brethren back to civilization.

Now, this is all a huge problem, but there is one final change that you suspect is also a consequence of Maleficent's meddling. 

During your adventures Team Yuu learned that the Thorn Fairy intended to basically inoculate herself from Darkness in order to prevent it from controlling her. General consensus among Team Yuu was that Maleficent is a sociopath, so imbuing her heart with darkness probably didn't change much of her personality. 

But the average person? That's a different matter. Most of the population is classified as dark-hearts, a condition where emotions you associate with the Light such as compassion, joy, and fulfillment are all dulled. 

You personally suspect this is a side effect of Maleficent's darkness inoculation. The darkness infused into their hearts might prevent the creation of true heartless, but it's also likely suppressing sensations brought on by the Light. But you're a shield, not a staff, so it's just conjecture at this point.

Individuals who are free of contamination are referred to as light-hearts in most texts, though more modern documents have taken to using the term ‘darling’. When a dark-heart is in extended contact with a light-heart the suppression over their positive emotions is lessened, however the degree by which it works is varied.

It would seem that some hearts are more compatible than others, and dark-hearts will quickly become jealous and possessive over compatible light-hearts.

Delving further into the history textbooks reveal that this post-twisting world has not been kind to the light-hearts. 

Twst’s early history is filled with attempts to extract whatever quality it is that allows light-hearts to experience the full breadth of life’s joys. Strategies include blood transfusion, ritualistic sacrifice, and creating cures made from parts ‘harvested’ from light-hearts.

Yikes.

Some would even hunt and eat light-hearts under the belief that doing so would transfer their light to the hunter.

Big fucking yikes!

At least that was easily disproved. Though some cultures still hold up that cannibalism can be romantic if done the right way.

The hell do you mean “the right way”!?!

After it was made clear that no you can't just yoink the goodness from a light-heart the dark-hearts started changing their approach. If they couldn't live without the light-hearts then the light-hearts wouldn't get to live without them.

In theory thats better but in practice things still suck. The normals were still outnumbered and usually found themselves under the authority of more powerful dark-hearts.

It must have been miserable being at the mercy of their quasi-sociopathic, emotionally-stunted peers. It wasn't uncommon for a ruling dark-heart to barter off non-compatible light-hearts as a way of securing favors or alliances with other factions.

As countries developed their own centralized governments they also developed their own laws, however those laws could often be bent or broken in the name of securing your compatible light-heart.

Different regions had different laws on the handling of light-hearts with the most consistent similarity being that dark-hearts were given leanancy when acting in the name of protecting their light-heart companions.

In the modern era treatment of light-hearts is more consistent across the board due to the different countries becoming closer. With this came things like standardized money, language, and rights. A little under two hundred years ago an event called the Darling's Rights movement took place. 

The core of Darling’s Right’s was that the light-hearts are people in need of protection rather than a resource to be exploited. Light-hearts and sympathetic dark-hearts pushed their governments to take a hard stand against brutal practices such as the heart hunts and sentient trafficking.

In the current era things aren't exactly great, but at least the normals seem to have gained some autonomy. You should probably focus on something more relevant to your current circumstances, like how Keyblade wielders are viewed. (Narrator Voice: Foreshadowing is a literary device…)

Records of Keyblades are mixed. Some stories describe you as forces of good that work tirelessly to keep Twisted Wonderland safe from nightmarish monsters. Others decry you as the reason for basically everything wrong in the world. Rude!

The general consensus is somewhere in the middle, viewing you as mysterious figures with unknowable goals. In stories and myths it's a toss up whether the Keyblade wielder will help or harm the protagonist. A bit like how your birth world viewed spirits, funnily enough.

As much as you would like to correct the record, you doubt people would just take your word that Maleficent is the root of all evil and Team Yuu was simply doing your best to stop her. Also Wonderland wasn't meant to know about Keyblades in the first place.

But there's still the issue that you don't have an identity in this era. TW has developed to the point that you can't just call yourself a wandering adventurer and be done with it. 

Somehow you wind up convincing Crowley that you are from a society that was cut off from the rest of the rest of the world due to becoming surrounded by the miasma. Maybe a better hero could have come up with something simpler, or more creative, but you were coming off the shock of waking up in a coffin in a cult that venerates a bunch of narcissistic psychos. You need to do something to avoid multi-world contamination while also explaining away your ignorance of basic things. This is good enough. Yup. 

There is definitely no way your half-assed backstory could come back to bite you. 

Somehow he buys it and the staff are informed of your circumstances. Crowley says it's so that they can help facilitate your transition to “real civilization” but you suspect he’s just the kind of person to excessively delegate.

You’re sent into a moment of heart-stopping despair when you realize that it's been thousands of years since Team Yuu adventures across Wonderland. You recover when your gummiphone still gets a signal to ULD, but only for a few hours at night while you're near a specific mirror in Ramshackle. Not sure how that works but at least you figured it out before following through on your threats to drop out of NRC.

Despite the passage of time you manage to call your sister, and from her you learn that it's only been a few years from the perspective of the rest of the worlds.

The other members of Team Yuu were safely recovered and healed back at ULD. They insisted on going back to save you, but Wonderland had already been sealed off. You felt your heart break as Addie explained how it felt, thinking that you were lost forever.

“I’m sorry. I'm so sorry.”

But King Mickey himself stepped forward with an idea. He said it’s the Keyblade king's duty to do whatever he can to look after his subjects and together with his aids they came up with a way to craft a stabilization field around the now twisted world and then temporarily distance Wonderland from the rest of the universe’s time-space.

The technical details go way over your head, you're a shield not a staff, but if it worked then it worked.

Wait. You've basically been in stasis until TW synced back up with the universe. But time still passed for your family…

“Am I still older than Zain!?”

“Really? That's your biggest concern? Learn to prioritize!”

“Answer the question!”

When you left Disney you had a good four years over your baby brother. It took roughly three years from their time for TW to stabilize. You've narrowly avoided being demoted to the family baby, but it was a close thing. Another round of stasis for any reason could be devastating to the family dynamic!

“You're still such a brat.”

Some might say that you wasted your first call home, and they would be wrong. 

After figuring out when your gummiphone could and couldn't get a signal out of twst you all hash out a plan to get you back home. Reconnecting TW to the Lanes Between will be time consuming, but the hard part is dealing with blot.

The multi-world contamination department is unlikely to ever sign off on a reconnection project until they can confirm that blot and phantoms won't become heartless 2.0 and start spreading to other worlds.

Honestly, you get it.

With the constant arms race between Light and Darkness you can't afford to be careless with new variations. Disney World is literally made up of the remnants of worlds that were shattered by the forces of Darkness.

Disney’s best tinkers are working on a program that would allow your gummiphone to scan blot and phantoms. By sending that information home they can analyse blot and work out a way to neutralize them. The only issue is that the scanner doesn't work from very far away so you'll have to get within punching range.

No worries. It shouldn't be too hard to go beat up some I-cant-believe-its-not-heartless. The Dark Mirror recognizes you but seems willing to cooperate, or at least he didn't spill your identity at the intro ceremony. He’ll probably be amicable to cooperation in the name of saving the world (or at least making it less bad).

To summarize:

Your little brother has almost caught up to you in age (Devastating). You are a girl at an all boys school. You are indefinitely stranded in Twisted Wonderland. You may have accidentally created a new type of Darkness. You become the parent of a pyromaniac cat monster with delusions of grandeur. Some of your classmates want to hunt you for sport.

Skully tried not to gush, he really did, but even in the throes of melancholy, there was no way Skully would pass up the opportunity to share on his favorite topic. 

And you listened. Not with polite disinterest or amused tolerance, but with genuine engagement. You asked questions and shared your own stories of celebration.

Because it wasn't all about Skully! He's a gentleman, after all. And as it turned out, the two of you had more in common than he'd expected.

"It sounds like you've experienced something similar," he'd said, and you'd nodded slowly.

"My hometown was... complicated," you explained. "We had a problem with spiritual predators so for us, All Hallows' Eve was the time when they were at their strongest. We’d spend all month prepping for it."

It isn't quite the same, Skully reflected. Uzumimura had its issues, of course, but luckily not on the level you'd described, goodness gracious! The way you described your childhood, facing down malevolent spirits with nothing but courage and your loved ones, made his own struggles seem rather tame by comparison.

But the somber tone, the reverence in your voice when you spoke of past Halloweens and their reminders that someday everyone will become a ghost...

That’s what Halloween is supposed to be about.

And Skully was struck by inspiration.

He came up with a plan, you see. A grand plan to teach Halloween Town (and those idiots from school) the true meaning of Halloween. He'd gathered allies, crafted his scheme and poured his heart into the project.

It was heartbreaking when Jack Skellington chose the modern NRC celebration over Skully's traditional vision. He'd been so certain that his idol would understand, would see the beauty in the old ways.

But when asked if he truly wanted to celebrate in an extravagant way Jack had nodded his head, “Yes! I love trying new things.”

No. 

No no no no nonono. That wouldn't do. Skully will save Halloween, even from Jack Skellington himself if that's what it takes.

Though it had been a bit awkward when you and Grim walked in on Skully hovering over Jack's unconscious form. What if you, like Jack, refused to see his vision? What if you turned against him too?

Thankfully you'd been quite reasonable, even after Skully had panicked when Grim pawed at Jack, complaining about the skeleton slacking off, and turned the young beast into a jack-o'-lantern.

You held a hand to your brow and sighed deeply, “Okay, sure, this might as well happen. Just–” you sighed again, pinching your brow, “just turn grim back and we'll see where this goes.”

Skully had felt such warmth at your words. Finally, finally, someone who saw value in his vision. He'd taken your affability as confirmation that you agreed with his methods, that you were just as committed to spreading the true spirit of Halloween as he was.

And it had gone perfectly! Everything was coming together exactly as he'd envisioned. Having you by his side as he prepared a true Halloween for Jack-sama had been... fulfilling in a way he hadn't anticipated. He'd catch your gaze and feel a surge of joy, knowing that you were part of his celebration, his vision.

He'd envisioned you staying by his side forever, you know. Once the two of you taught Halloween Town the true spirit of Halloween, you'd join him as he spread the celebration across the world. Together, you'd teach everyone the spirit of Halloween.

But then, like a bolt of lightning, the rest of your NRC cohorts struck him down.

Okay. So perhaps he hadn't thought everything through.

Skully had been so angry. He'd poured his heart into this, his soul, and they'd just... destroyed it. Shattered his dreams as if they meant nothing. When Sebek and the others foiled his plan, when they'd had the audacity to tell him he was wrong, Skully had felt such rage bubbling in his chest that he'd been fully willing to kill them.

He'd been so close. So close to having everything he'd ever wanted.

…

Still, as chaotic as the Halloween Town celebration turned out, and once the sting of failure had faded, Skully found an unexpected charm in the chaos. The way the townsfolk laughed as they ran through the streets, the joy on their faces as they collected candy, the sheer life that pulsed through the celebration amidst the spooky decor; it was something he hadn't anticipated.

"You know," he admitted to you later, the two of you sitting a bit away from the main function, "I was so afraid that Halloween would be disrespected by such frivolous methods of celebration. All that eating and singing and causing a fuss, it didn't seem fitting for a day where everyone honors the other side. But Sebek's passionate words and your compassion made me rethink that." He paused, skeletal fingers drumming against his knee. "I suppose candy and costumes might not be so bad."

“Oh, Skully.” Skully froze as you loop one arm through his own, pulling him into a hug. "Change is hard, especially when it's something so important for your identity."

Skully’s heart was racing, and for once it had nothing to do with the holiday. 

Well, that's a lie, he’s always at least a little hyped about Halloween. But this time it was only partially contributing to his feelings.

The two of you sat together like that for a moment, just holding each other, until Skully broke the silence. "While I'm still saddened by the idea of not celebrating the traditional kind of Halloween I know and love," he said, his voice softening, "I know your consideration and love of Halloween is real. It's not about the method of celebration, it's about the feeling behind it."

"So going forward, I will try different methods of celebration, if that's what it takes to make the world embrace the spirit of Halloween."

You pulled out of the hug but grabbed one of his hands, looping your fingers together. "Listening to other people's points of view doesn't mean you have to bury who you are as a person. And for what it's worth... you weren't the only one being a jerk. I chewed out the others for messing around and being inconsiderate during the town hall and preparations."

Skully had laughed at that, a genuine sound that surprised even him. "They're all lucky to have you around to keep them in line."

He'd thought to himself then, how surprising the strength of his feelings were. He'd only known you for a week, and yet the thought of saying goodbye was already unbearable.

During the final hours of your time together, you confessed to Skully about your true identity. You'd pulled out Twilight Dream, that beautiful, impossible key, and showed it to him with a nervous expression. You told him about your world, the spirits that plagued your people, and how you ultimately lost your parents but found purpose as a Keyblade Hero.

Perhaps in another life, Skully would accept having to say goodbye. Perhaps he could have been content with never seeing any of you again.

But not here. Not after knowing how much more there could be on Halloween when celebrated together, with you.

Skully isn't naive. He knows the only reason you confided so much to him is because you’d also figured out that you were from different times. You'd made it clear that you didn't want the people from your current time to find out the truth and raise a fuss. You were protecting yourself, and he understood that.

Yet...

He remembered your words to him back when everyone was exchanging stories about how they celebrated. You'd told him that while Halloween was a time of fear, you'd learned that such fear is best experienced when in the company of loved ones.

And when you showed him your Keyblade, when you confessed the tragic fate of your world... well. That's a bond not even death could break, and Skully knew what he had to do.

Back outside of Halloween Town, you're facing terrifying challenges alone, fighting against forces that would have broken lesser souls. But you don't have to stay alone. Not if Skully had anything to say about it.

He'd made a vow that night. A promise to wait for you, and to ensure that when you finally arrived at Night Raven College, whenever that might be, you would have at least one friend waiting to greet you.

---

Skully is proud of his efforts to spread Halloween. It was his life's work, but he hadn't worked hard out of a desire for fame or power, like so many of his fellow NRC alumni. 

The first time he'd been referred to as the King of Halloween had been a bittersweet moment. He wished he could share the moment with his friends from Halloween Town, but they had yet to be born, and you were still waiting to emerge from the space between worlds. The honor felt hollow without you.

Still! There's work to be done!

When not spreading the good word about Halloween, he worked to change the relationship between the living and the Spirit Realm. It was slow, painstaking work, but there was joy to be found in even this grueling work.

The spirits of the dead are naturally drawn to the netherworld. It takes a strong will for one to remain in the living realm, and even then they're usually forced to bind themselves to a place or object in order to maintain their presence. Most spirits simply fade with time, their regrets too weak to anchor them.

Skully led a cultural shift to make the idea of ghosts remaining in the living realm more palatable. He'd started small, with whispered suggestions and subtle influences, and over the centuries, the movement had grown. Now, it wasn't uncommon for particularly strong-willed individuals to persist after death, their attachments keeping them tethered to those they loved.

He'd also amassed power in life, cultivating his magical abilities and strengthening his connections in the spirit realm. As a ghost, that power would be enough to reunite with you and the rest of his dear friends. He'd made sure of it.

And it was worth it. Every sleepless night, every painful sacrifice, every compromise he'd made along the way, it was all worth it.

Skully was so happy to have you back. During your time in Halloween Town you never specified exactly what year you would attend NRC, but Skully had a few hints. 

Vil Schoenheit will be a famous entertainer, Leona Kingscholar will be the second prince of Sunset Savanna, a position of power and privilege. Jamil Viper will be the servant for a powerful family, the Asim, whose own heir would attend school with him. 

Thanks to Sebek, the one Skully knows the most about is Malleus Draconia, the crown prince of Briar Valley, land of the nocturnal fae. The boy's birth had been heralded with great fanfare, and Skully had noted the date for reference.

From observing these figures and tracking their progress, Skully knew the time was coming closer.

When he'd heard about the Draconia prince being born, Skully developed the habit of checking in on the NRC orientation every year. Those who knew about this assumed the Pumpkin King was feeling nostalgic, reminiscing about his own student days.

They were only partially right, but he saw no need to correct them.

Skully had arranged for his body to be entombed next to the Ramshackle Dorm, claiming sentiment to the school. In reality, he'd done it to make it easier to know once you arrived. He'd spent time navigating the bureaucracy, convincing the school's administration to allow this request.

Even for such an illustrious alumnus as the Pumpkin King, arranging that had been a difficult affair. The paperwork alone had taken years, and the negotiations with the school's board had been tedious. But it had paid off!

Skully had been waiting centuries, watching the comings and goings of students, waiting for the faces he recognized. And it's a good thing he'd been there!

He'd found you at the edge of the cliff, staring out at the horizon with a desolate expression that made his phantom heart ache. Pocketing your phone, you'd turned your eyes back toward the endless sky.

You're even worse off than he'd anticipated, poor dear! But it's okay now, Skully's here for you, even if it might take a while for you to realize just what that entailed.

–MC pov–

The first week at Night Raven College had been exhausting. Between the classes, the unfamiliar routines, and the constant vigilance required to avoid suspicion, you were running on fumes. But the nights were the worst. When the dorm fell silent and Grim's rumbling snores filled the room, the weight of your circumstances pressed down on you like a physical force.

You needed to move. To do something.

The Dark Mirror had agreed to help. It still didn't fully trust you, you could see it in the way it watched you, its surface rippling with barely concealed curiosity, but it had granted you passage to blot-rich areas. Your Gummiphone's new scanner module would be useless without proximity to the target, and proximity meant getting your hands dirty.

So you'd started sneaking out.

It was easier than you'd expected. The Ramshackle Dorm was practically abandoned, and the ghosts that haunted it were more interested in gossip than in monitoring your movements. There was one close call when you'd been returning from a scan and nearly ran into Professor Crewel, who was patrolling the campus for some reason. You'd ducked behind a pillar, heart pounding, and waited for the irritated-looking professor to pass.

Another time, one of the ghosts had floated through your room just as you were pulling on your shoes, having apparently just seen you go to bed with Grim. You'd been scrambling for an excuse when–

"Miss Yuu! A wonderful night for a walk, isn't it?"

Mr. Graves (“Oh please, call me Skully”, he insisted) appeared as if from nowhere, his skeletal form radiating an almost exaggerated friendliness. "I was about to tell the others about that fascinating rumor from the Netherworld. A Nachzehrer sighting in the eastern marshes. Very exciting stuff!"

"Oh?" The other ghost perked up. "Tell us more!"

"Perhaps we should take this conversation somewhere more comfortable," Skully suggested, already drifting toward the corridor. "I wouldn't want to disturb Miss Yuu's... walk."

And just like that, you were alone.

That was close, you thought, slipping out the window and making your way to the Dark Mirror. Skully's a lifesaver. Thank goodness he's not as nosey as the others.

Unaware, of course, that Skully had been listening to your calls for days now. He'd been there when your sister Addie's voice crackled through the speaker, half-laughing, half-sobbing, "You little idiot! Do you have any idea how many gray hairs you've given me?!"

He'd been there when the practical discussions began, when you and your comrades hashed out a plan to get you back home. Reconnecting Twisted Wonderland to the Lanes Between would be time-consuming, but the hard part was dealing with blot.

"The Multi-World Contamination Department is unlikely to ever sign off on a reconnection project," Yuuka explained apologetically, "until they can confirm that blot and phantoms won't become Heartless 2.0 and start spreading to other worlds."

And really, you got it. With the constant arms race between Light and Darkness, you couldn't afford to be careless with new variations. Disney World was literally made up of the remnants of worlds that were shattered by the forces of Darkness.

In subsequent calls, you started talking with the various tinkers of Disney World. It seemed your situation had become a hot topic, and there was no shortage of volunteers.

"We've put together an update for your Gummiphone," one said. "It'll let you scan blot and phantoms. If you can get that for us, we can analyze blot and work out a way to neutralize them."

"The only issue," another added, "is that the scanner doesn't work from very far away. You'll have to get close."

"So punching range, basically," you said flatly. The others on the line were contrite, but honestly, this was basically par for the course at this point.

By the end of the week, you'd gotten a few successful scans under your belt, though the encounters had been... eventful. The phantoms didn't go down as easily as Heartless, and you'd had to use your Keyblade in ways that left you winded and bruised.

Still, it’s progress.

The next day you go to class, a little tired but feeling content. Unfortunately that doesn't last long.

“Yeah, some lunatic broke into a quarantine zone–”

“–swear it looked just like a Keyblade from the legends.”

Awww shit.

“I thought Keyblades were like, a metaphor, or something.”

“–some pictures. They may be crazy, but the outfit is actually kinda cute. ”

Awww shit.

Okay, looks like we've got a new step on the agenda. Make a mask. Make several masks, cloaks, and maybe a wig just to be extra safe.

Whenever your conversations drift towards the quarantine break-ins you keep your head down, offering noncommittal hums and vague shrugs whenever someone brings it up. Inside, however, your sweating buckets.

Oh gosh this is so uncomfortable.

Did anyone see your face? Did they recognize you? Probably not, right? Someone would have approached you by now.

...Right?

By lunch, you've convinced yourself that everything is fine. Mostly fine. You just need to be more careful going forward, that's all.

It's almost a relief when Ace stormed into Ramshackle, a gleaming red collar fastened around his neck and murder in his eyes.

You blinked, poking at the collar. "Is this a real thing? Students can just... chain each other up?"

Ace turned his glare on you. "Yes, it's real. And it's not funny!"

"I'm not laughing." But you wanted to, just a tiny bit. Not at Ace exactly, but the absurdity of it all.

Still, Ace is your friend, and that Riddle guy is out of line. Both for the collar and kicking a freshman out of their dorms. It’d been a shock to bump into Ace on your way to the Mirror. Thankfully he'd been too incensed at the injustice of his predicament to really examine you, but it’d been a close call.

Actually, it's kind of nice, working on something that isn't study or blot related. You'll have to pause your vigilante activities for a night or two, but it shouldn't be too difficult getting this all sorted out.

Besides, dark-heart or not, these people are basically civilians. How much trouble could one housewarden be?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You– Ace – Trein – Skully

Authors note:

With a sigh, you pull out your gummiphone, scrolling through old messages like flipping through the pages of a book you’ve read too many times. 

The latest messages were celebrating the successful hatching of baby Mallorie. Even with a Darkness-possessed Maleficent rampaging through Wonderland, it had been a bitch and a half to convince Diablo to let you all help with the unborn dragon. The raven even admitted that he didn't think you wanted to hurt the kid! Though he worded that a bit more rudely. 

No, Diablo was just so committed to his mistress that even when her plans had literally kickstarted the end of the world, he still tried to stand by her grudges.

Ugh, stupid stubborn bird.

Getting him to even tolerate you had taken the intervention of Aurora, Maleficent’s fairy-goddaughter/victim/pet human. 

Still, looking at the pictures of the fae and princess hovering over the newborn you have to admit that the pain had been worth it.

Scrolling further up you relive the team's other adventures. 

The next image shows a bright summer day frozen in time, a party beneath a string of colorful banners, laughter caught midair. On the right, a knot of children chase each other through the crowd. At the center, a young man in crimson and gold throws his head back in laughter while a mountain of a man in green gestures with a platter of food. To their left, a woman in a yellow-orange dress holds out a plate as your sempai, Yuuka Hirasaka, grins beside her, tail flicking contentedly.

Yuuka had followed a lead to the Kingdom of the Sun, investigating rumors of a sorcerer creating monsters with alchemical darkness. Instead, she got roped into saving the emperor from being trapped as a llama, helped Pacha teach him how not to be an egotistical nightmare, and somehow ended up officiating the royal rebuilding ceremony. The picture was taken at the feast that followed, Yuuka laughing, food everywhere, and Emperor Kuzco mid-speech.

A swipe takes you to another image: gentle sunlight spilling across a green meadow, warm and golden. The heroes of Prydain rest in the flowers and tall grass. A boy with messy auburn hair, a princess with a dirt-smudged crown, a white-haired bard clutching a harp, and Yuuya Kuroki sprawled between them, his gangly stitched limbs sprawled out. Gurgi, a strange little creature whose origin none of you could identify, is perched on his chest, chewing on something unidentifiable.

Despite Babel University’s many lessons on teamwork and leadership, Yuuya had an unfortunate track record when it came to socialization outside of Disney World. His efforts to mimic normal social behaviors tended to come across as offputting to those unfamiliar with his quirks, and the mage even admitted that he still had no clue what he did that caused the other heroes of Prydain to trust him. Personally, you think that blasting a hole through the Horned King's castle probably did a lot to prove he was on their side.

Then there’s the last photo. Yuuken Enma, towering but somehow soft around the edges, crouches beside two well-dressed rodent beastmen. Between them, a little human girl with red hair and a missing front tooth clutches a teddy bear like a lifeline.

The group is smiling in a way that feels too pure for the swampy background.

He’d been traveling through Refij-nan-Bliss when he stumbled into Devil’s Bayou, along with a pair of mouse beastmen attempting to save a seven year old girl. Together they rescued Penny from a jewel-crazed witch, and Yuuken discovered that the Devil's Eye, the diamond Medusa had been risking Penny’s life to retrieve, was in fact the very source of Darkness that the Keyblade hero had been searching for. The cursed diamond was shattered, the orphan saved, and rumor had it the mice got engaged right after. Yuuken had been ridiculously proud, already planning to attend the wedding in full oni regalia.

Your breath quickens as you think of all the people that you left behind. Searching their names on the internet didn't reveal anything. You want to believe that's just a result of bad SEO, but you know you're lying to yourself. A lot of team Yuu’s contacts were heroes and royalty, people whose names should still be recorded somewhere.

The last time you spoke Alice had proudly declared that she was going to travel the entire world. Alice, that silly, annoying, incredibly brave kid swore that she would become the greatest adventurer in all of Wonderland. Did she do it? Did she resent you for vanishing? W̸h̵a̴t̵ ̵h̴a̸̻͑p̸̣̍͆ ̵̥͗̃p̴̭̞̒̒e̵̝͐ ̵̮͊̒̅n̶̟̯͎͗̀̏ ̷̸͕̩̤͍̺̐̀͝e̴̲̝͔̪͆̉̈́̽ ̷̩̈̐͒͐͒d̵͙̠̠̮̃͂̎̿̈́ ̷̩̲̔̈̔̚ ̵̹̻̳̊͂͛̒͛͜?̸̤͔͚̩̬̉͂̊

…

…...

Time to look at something else.

Your thumb hovers over the family group chat.  

Do you really want to do this to myself?  

Yes, yes you do.  

You scroll until the years melt away, photos, gifs, memes, until you reach a message that simply reads:

Dinner ready. Get over here. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

The ache that follows is immediate and raw. It feels like someone reached into your chest and squeezed until all the air fled your lungs. You bury your face in the pillow to hide the sound, biting the fabric to smother a sob. Grim grumbles but doesn’t wake, his warmth steady against your ribs. 

You stay that way for a long while, letting the weight of everything you’ve lost press down.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, something flickers.

The vanity mirror, normally dull and cracked, glows faintly. Silver light pulses behind the glass like a heartbeat. 

Your breath hitches.  

You shift Grim off your stomach (earning a muffled, “Mrrrp–why’m’I flying–”) and creep toward the mirror, faux magipen clenched in one hand.  

Your gummiphone vibrates.  

[Connection Restored]  

Your heart stops, your breath catches. 

It’s impossible. You’d checked nearly every hour since waking up in this glorified villain daycare. The signal was always dead. 

Until now.  

Hands trembling, you tap the call button before your brain can catch up.  

The line rings.  

Once.  

Twice.  

Thrice,

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end is staticky, distant, but unmistakable.  

Your throat closes up.  

"Addie?" you whisper.   

A sharp inhale. Then…

“Oh my god.” A choked noise, half-laugh, half-sob. “You– You idiot! Do you have any idea how many gray hairs you’ve given me?!”  

Tears blur the screen. “I missed you too,” you choke out, laughing through the sob. “I’m so sorry.”

Addie’s voice cracks. “Hold on. Hold on,” there’s a thud, a yelp, and the sound of something crashing to the floor. A groggyvoice joins in, “...m’awake, I’m awake. Wha’s goin’ on?”

“Zain!”

For a heartbeat you're all quiet, then, "No way."  

A scuffle. The phone is jostled. Then Zain’s voice, breathless and disbelieving: "You’re alive?" 

You laugh wetly. "Yeah. Yes, I’m alive."  

What follows is chaos, overlapping voices, questions flying faster than you can answer.  Addie rapid-fires ("Are you hurt? Are you safe? Have you eaten? Where are you? What happened?!"), Zain interjecting with his own ("Did you beat the thorn witch? I knew you could do it!"), and you, trying to answer through the lump in your throat.  

Then Addie takes a breath, steadying herself. "Okay, okay. Deep breaths. What's the last thing you remember?"  

You swallow. "The ritual started, Maleficent losing control, and I … stayed behind."  

Addie’s voice softens. "We thought we lost you."  

"I’m sorry," you whisper. "I’m so sorry."  

"Don’t apologize," she snaps, but there’s no real heat behind it. "King Mickey, he didn’t give up. Said it was his duty as Keyblade King to help his subjects. He and the others worked out a stabilization field, then… Well, I don’t understand the technical stuff, but they basically put Twisted Wonderland in time-space quarantine until it synced back up with the rest of the universe."  

You blink. "Wait. So… how much time passed for you guys?"  

"Three years," Zain says.  

Your stomach drops. "Three?!"  

Then it hits you.  

"Am I still older than Zain?!"  

Addie groans. "Really?! That’s your biggest concern right now?!"  

"Answer the question!"  

Zain cackles. "Barely! You left with a four-year gap, and now it’s down to one! One more stunt like this and I’m caught up!"  

"No!" You clutch your hair in mock despair. "I refuse to be demoted to baby of the family!"  

Addie’s long-suffering sigh mixes with Zain's giggles. "You’re still such a brat."  

You continue talking with your family, and the topic quickly turns to your situation at Night Raven, as well as the strange Dark-Light heart phenomena. 

“A– ou sur– –t’s saf– –o sta–?”

“Addie?” You straighten at the sudden static. “Can you hear me?”

Their voices keep breaking up and you look at the vanity with dread, realizing the glow has faded.  

“Addie? Zain?!” You lurch toward the mirror as the silver light disappears, desperation clawing up your throat.

“Wait! Please, just– just a little longer!”

but the signal’s gone.  

You slump back onto the bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling. The ache in your chest hasn’t gone away… but it’s different now. It’s not just loss, it’s longing, sharp and alive.

You spend the rest of the night trying everything: changing the mirror’s angle, whispering pleas, even muttering threats to the Dark Mirror.

"I swear on the stars, if you’re blocking this…!"

But the connection stays dead.  

You sit back on the bed and lean against the damaged headboard.When dawn filters through the grimy windows, you’re still sitting there, bone weary and bleary-eyed. But the exhaustion, for the first time in a long while, the weight in your chest feels lighter.

Grim stretches, yawning wide enough to show his sharp little teeth. “Mornin’, henchman. You look like a mess.”

You ruffle his ears. “Still not your henchman.”

While Grim rushes towards the kitchen you close your eyes. The faint hum of determination grows stronger, fragile but bright. Somewhere out there, your family is waiting.

For now, that’s enough.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You– Ace – Trein – Skully

You look at the headmaster, mentally imploring him to say, “Ah my mistake!”

Unfortunately the headmaster’s grin doesn’t waver as he gestures grandly at the crumbling structure before you. You take another look at the building.

The walls are weathered and coated with rot. The roof is patchy with lost shingles, if not outright missing in some areas. Boards had been haphazardly nailed to every window, with some of the older ones falling off, probably due to the nails rusting away. The building's base is overrun with weeds that choked the porch and path leading to the dorm.

Somehow you doubt the inside is any better. You slowly turn your head back to the man, expression flat.

“You can't be serious.”

“Now, now,” he chides, waving a finger, “Ramshackle Dorm is a proud landmark of Night Raven College. Why, one of our most prestigious alumni even asked to be buried here!”

Feeling apprehensive you look over to the mausoleum just beyond the dorm, half-hidden in the overgrowth. 

Time has gnawed away at its grandeur, leaving only skeletal hints of past glory. Most of the decoration has worn down leaving only remnants of the original gothic style visible in the sweeping arches and wrought-iron details. Thorny vines strangle at the only path, deterring prospective visitors. The rest of the grounds are a graveyard of withered plants, save for a few stubborn pumpkins rotting near the fence. 

Squinting at the weathered plaque above the gate you can make out a few letters.

..y J. Gra… ng of Hal…

You send a silent prayer for the poor sap who trusted NRC with their eternal resting place.

Crowley breaks you out of your thoughts with a nudge that’s just shy of forceful as he herds you toward the dorm.

“Right, scoot inside now. There you go.”

“Hold on –!”

“This should keep the elements at bay for the time being. Now, I shall return with some supplies and a meal, for I am kind. In the meantime you can busy yourself with tidying up a bit. Ta!”

“But –!” Aaaand he's gone. 

This can't be legal. What the hell kind of institute have you landed in? If it were Babel University who just had a mystery enrollment, the student would probably be in a medical checkup right now. 

Hell, even with the post-invasion recovery, your homeworld wouldn't be this careless. Just dumping someone in a ruin without so much as a second thought is insane!

Unless…

A thought hits you, in sync with the sudden downpour of rain.

He knows. 

It's the only explanation. Somehow Crowley figured out that you were one of the Heroes who beat up the school's not-so-great seven, and is now screwing with you on their behalf. Why else would the school's headmaster bring an exchange student to this deathtrap unless he wanted them to suffer?

This ‘dorm’ isn’t negligence. It’s punishment.

You check your gummiephone again. Still no signal, which means no advice and no backup. You're on your own. You really, really, don't like being on your own. 

Stomping down the rising panic, you force yourself to think. 

What do you have? Your phone can't reach anyone, but it still does other phone things like playing music, and taking pictures. 

How's your Keyblade?

A thought brings Twilight Dream to your hand. Still here, good. Great, even. Another thought allows you to cycle through your Keychains, each one a familiar weight.

If you weren’t out for too long, some of Team Yuu’s old supply caches might still be around. Gear up, reconnect with past allies, figure things out from there.

Plan settled! 

Now, step one: Get out of enemy territory.

 Putting away your Keyblade you jog down the hill and towards the woods, in the opposite direction of the school. 

—Birdman pov—

Crowley returns to the abando– ahem, the formerly unused dorm, arms laden with supplies.

Despite his cheery facade, he’s deeply unsettled. A lost society with blot-immune warriors? Even if you’re lying about your origin, the skills you displayed, and your claims of being the weakest among your peers, would be interesting to many parties. As the miasma continues to ebb and flow, nations are desperate for any advantage over the blot. If not for STYX’s strict neutrality, governments would be fighting over their allegiance.

While Dire normally tries to stay out of politics, the fact is that the dark mirror brought you here makes you a student of Night Raven College. And Headmaster Crowley won’t let anyone, kingdom, council, or otherwise, snatch away one of his charges.

If you also bring prestige to NRC? Well, that’s just his diligence being rewarded!

Ramshackle may not be glamorous, but it’s the best hiding spot for someone who needs to keep a low profile. Distant from the rest of the students but close enough to the school that an alarm could be raised quickly if needed. Truely, his brilliance is outstanding!

“Good evening. In another gesture of my immense kindness, I have brought you dinn– good gracious!”

The dorm’s parlor is worse than ever! Fresh debris litters the floor, blue flames lick at the walls, and three cackling ghosts circle the room. At the center of it all is the same monster that interrupted the evening's ceremony. 

“MYAAAH! Quit ganging up on me ya cowardly spooks!”

Ah yes, the ghosts can get rather mischievous. There've been occasions where he had to remind the staff not to terrorize the school's residents and visitors. However that becomes a moot point when the victim is an intruder.

“Yer gonna get it now –MYAH?! You again!” The dire beast’s struggles are futile, once again the monster is no match for the Lash of Love™!

“I should be the one saying that!”  Crowley scolds, “Destroying a historic school building, how deplorable! And after I so graciously allowed you to live, despite ruining one of our most sacred ceremonies.”

Dire places a clawed hand against his cheek in mock despair as he speaks with a mournful shake of his head. “I suppose I have no choice but to dispose of you personally.”

“MYAAAH! NO, NOOO!”

Dire takes great satisfaction in cutting off the creature's screams with a yank of his whip. “It's always such a shame when a headmaster must resort to personally dirtying his hands. But first, what is Miss Yuu doing?” 

Really, He knows that you were less than impressed by the dorm's character, but even the more troublesome of his students wouldn't allow a building to burn down around them. 

(He hopes)

“Surely she didn't just leave you all to destroy Ramshackle?”

His second question is aimed towards the dorm ghosts. The specters flutter guiltily, avoiding his gaze. Good. As Night Raven staff they should have known better than to let the property destruction get so out of hand.

"You mean the weird human?" one asks. "Didn't have a chance to spook her."  

"She never came in," another adds, “just hung outside for a bit and ran off when the rain started.”

“What! Why would she do that?!” Oh no. 

No, no, no. This is a disaster.

With how volatile his students can be, some deaths and disappearances are always inevitable. But in all his years as headmaster Crowley has never failed to keep it contained, until now. 

What if you found your way to the village? Normally a first year isn't much of a threat, but it's clear you are no normal first year. 

If a Night Raven student were to rampage through Sage Island, Dire would be held responsible. The school board would dock his pay!

What's worse, that dratted Ambrosia would never let him live it down!

“Why didn't you try to stop her?” He demands, desperate for someone else to blame.

Before Crowley can scold them further, a chill runs down his spine. The air thickens, and a spectral figure materializes behind him. Tall, skeletal, and bearing an aura heavy with power. This ghost was by far the oldest to grace the halls of Night Raven College. 

"Skully J. Graves," Crowley greets, internally screaming, but forcing himself calm. “What an honor! However I'm afraid you've caught me at a bad time. One of the freshman–”

"Yuu is headed for the cliffs,” The halloween ghost interrupts, “I was nearby when you arrived and couldn't help but overhear some of your conversation. After you left she seemed… distressed. It wasn't long before she ran into the woods, in the direction of the cliffs." 

“Oh, thank the Seven!” The relief Dire feels overshadows any concerns he would have felt about the elder ghost’s sudden return. 

“Mister Graves, please guide me to her at once!”

Graves agrees with a nod, "Indeed, we should hurry before the poor dear does something drastic."  

As Crowley follows, the beastly vandal still trapped in his whip, one thought nags at him. Is it a coincidence that the King of Halloween made his return the same night you were brought here?

—Back to you—

The rain is well and truly pouring as you look down the edge of the cliff. Who builds a school so close to a death drop? What if someone falls off? Students can get pretty reckless, you know. Just another sign of how crazy these people are.

Well, at least it's pretty distinct. If anyone else in Team Yuu had ever been here they probably would have noted it down in the group map.

You pull out your phone, shielding it from the rain, and freeze. Before you could pull up the maps you notice something else. 

You're getting an internet signal.

What?

No, really. What?

Wonderland should be centuries away from that sort of technology. But it doesn't make sense for you to get a signal from ULD but not be able to make any calls.

Bemused, you open up what looks like a search engine (Moogel? What kind of name is that?) and start typing.

What is Night Raven?

Where is Night Raven College?

Who are great 7?

Why are great 7 called great?

Keyblades

Keyblade heroes beat up villains

Truth about Keyblades and great seven

What year is it?

How old are great seven?

Alice Liddell

King Simba

Princess Ariel

Aladdin and Jasmine of Agrabah

Snow White

Hercules

Queen Aurora

.

…

……

Pocketing the phone you turn your eyes back towards the horizon.

It's been tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of years since you arrived.  

Your friends are dust, their names forgotten. Your enemies have been enshrined as paragons. Keyblade wielders painted as rogues and mercenaries, your deeds twisted into cautionary tales. Page after page of glorified myths, distorted legends, history rewritten.

The strange phenomena they call blot…  Its form may have changed, but Twisted Wonderland is still besieged by Darkness.  

And your Gummiphone still won’t call home.  

‘’–Yuu!”

The enormity of your circumstances takes a hold of you and a weight settles in your chest. Your head grows dizzy and your chest tightens. Millennia of lost time, a world still drowning in Darkness, the sheer, crushing loneliness of being stranded in an unfamiliar world…

“Miss Yuu!”

Tears blur your vision. Where do you even go from here? What can you even do? 

“YUU!”

“Guh!”

A spindly hand yanks you away from the cliff’s edge. You don’t resist as you’re spun around and pulled into a spectral embrace. The ghost, tall, skeletal, and radiating an eerie warmth, holds you like a child, its grip firm but gentle.  

Dire Crowley is visible past the translucent body of the ghost. He's rambling about something or other. You can't bring yourself to pay attention to his words. Idly you note that the professor has the fire cat again for some reason.

“What in Twisted Wonderland were you thinking?!”

The ghost holding you is surprisingly warm for a specter. You expect it to feel like the spirits from your home world, mostly immaterial but still able to cause a chill that lingers in your bones. Instead this one feels like you’ve been wrapped in an old quilt, weathered but comforting. You sag against it as the ghost gently guides you away from the cliff’s edge.   

Huh. You don't remember getting so close.

Crowley is still talking, but his words blur together into nonsense. Something about "reckless behavior" and "school regulations." It doesn't matter, you don’t care.

Then the headmaster’s voice sharpens. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

"Every– everything’s changed," you mumble, voice raw.

“...Pardon?” Whatever answer he’d been expecting, this wasn't it.

You start shaking as the sobs break free from your throat.

“It's all wrong!” Your knees buckle but the ghost refuses to let you fall. “They're dead and I–,” your voice hitches, another sob crawls out of your throat, “–I don’t even know where to start!"

Crowley a hasty step back, clearly unprepared for your tears.

The ghost holds you tighter but doesn't stop moving you towards the woods.

Grim, still dangling from Crowley’s whip, stops struggling and stares at you with wide eyes. "Eh… what's up with her?"

Stars, what isn't up with you. But the question, so blunt and clueless, makes a hysterical laugh bubble up alongside your tears.    

Crowley clears his throat, suddenly awkward. "Ahem. Well. This is… unfortunate."   

Then, because he can’t help himself, he adds, "But! You shouldn’t despair! After all, you’re now a student of Night Raven College! The finest institution in all of-"    

You cut him off with a wet snort. "You dumped me in a haunted ruin."  

"A historically significant haunted ruin!" he corrects, offended.  

Grim snickers until Crowley yanks the whip, making him yelp. 

"And you! ” The headmaster’s voice turns venomous. “Twice now, you’ve brought destruction to this campus. The first time I graciously showed mercy but alas, you've scorned my kindness. I have no choice but to do something more permanent.” 

A cruel smile grows on the headmaster's face. “Perhaps I should use your remains for stew." 

The non-dissociated part of your mind realizes that he's serious about killing the creature. You see it in his eyes, the bloodlust, the readiness to follow through.

This isn't right. Trespassing, damage, assault, it's bad. But that's not enough to justify murdering a sentient being who, from what you've heard, seems to have never been taught right from wrong.

Your heart latches onto the injustice.

“Dont.” Your voice is hoarse but thankfully audible.

“Pardon?” He said, clearly surprised by your protest.

“Don't kill him,” you repeat firmer, forcing steadiness into your words. “It isn't right.”

Crowley pauses at your words and gives you a searching look for a moment. Despite speaking with him multiple times throughout the night it feels as though this is the first time he's truly seeing you.

“Surely you don't expect me to just let it go. The little nuisance would likely just cause more headaches at a later date.”

For the first time since your talk at the dorm you looked the headmaster in the eyes. "You can't just kill someone because they’re annoying!" 

Grim gapes at you, torn between gratitude and indignation.  

"...Most people wouldn’t defend a creature that attacked them," The headmaster said slowly, “certainly, that sort of forgiveness is… unusual among the students of Night Raven.”

“He doesn’t know any better.” You nod at Grim, who’s now staring at you like you’ve grown a second head. “It's pretty obvious no one ever taught him.” 

“Then how do you propose I keep the beast from wreaking more havoc? I have a duty to this institution.”

He has a point that Grim can't just be let loose. The little cat-creature may not know anything about good behavior and social norms, but he's clearly proficient in attacking with fire magic. 

“I'll do it.”

“Oh?” Crowley asks with a tilt of his head.

“ I’ll handle it." You say, voice firm. "I’ll teach him and make sure he doesn't hurt anyone from now on.”

He gives you that look again. You aren't sure what Crowley is expecting to see in you, but what it is apparently satisfies him as he before abruptly conceding.

"Very well,” Crowley sighs dramatically, but there’s a glint in his eye you can’t decipher. “We'll try things your way. But you’ll be held responsible for his behavior from now on!"  

The headmaster finally releases Grim from the whip, just in time for the dire beast to avoid passing out. The cat-monster tumbles into your arms, claws hooking into your robes like a lifeline.

As you cradle your new ward close to your chest the ghost, still holding you, reaches a hand over to pet Grim.

This is… fine.