The wind carried whispers of an impending storm, but there were no clouds in the sky.
Pocahontas froze mid-movement, the wooden training spear still in her hands. She turned her head slightly, her dark eyes narrowing as she listened to something unseen.
Something was wrong.
Skuld noticed it too. The playful rustling of the trees had stopped. The birds that usually fluttered between the branches had gone silent. Even the distant hum of the river seemed muted, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Skuld exhaled sharply, gripping her Keyblade. She had seen this before—the unnatural stillness that came before an ambush.
"Get ready," she whispered.
Pocahontas, despite her limited experience in battle, felt her heart beat faster. She didn't understand how she knew, but she felt the land whispering to her. A warning.
She grabbed her bow and notched an arrow.
Then, the shadows moved.
The darkness did not simply appear—it flowed into existence.
Emerging from between the trees came a creature unlike any Heartless Skuld had seen before. It was humanoid in shape, but its form was shifting, an ethereal mist that struggled to stay solid. Long, clawed arms extended outward, the golden tribal markings on its body pulsating like a heartbeat.
Its face was empty. A void.
The Wraith Stalker loomed before them, its entire form flickering like a shadow that didn't belong in this world.
And it wasn't alone.
Two massive, wolf-like Heartless—Nightfangs—slunk into view. Their black bodies rippled like smoke, their glowing red eyes locked onto their prey. Their breaths came out in hollow snarls, their claws sinking into the earth with every step.
Pocahontas took a step back, feeling the presence of something deeply unnatural.
Then the Wraith Stalker twitched—and the Heartless attacked.
The trees rustled suddenly, but it wasn't the wind.
John Smith had been moving carefully, tracking his way toward the native village. He had followed Ratcliffe's orders for too long without question. But now, after seeing the governor speak of dark creatures and power, he needed answers.
And the first clue had been a name—Pocahontas.
Now, as he neared a clearing, he found himself staring at an impossible sight.
Grotesque black creatures. Unnatural, twisted things moving through the trees.
A young native woman stood her ground against them, bow raised, with a raven-haired girl beside her wielding some kind of weapon John had never seen before.
He didn't hesitate.
Boom!
John fired.
The bullet struck one of the Nightfangs, but it only staggered for a moment before snapping its glowing jaws toward him.
The musket wouldn't be enough.
John gritted his teeth and drew his blade. If this was a fight, so be it.
Skuld was already moving.
With a flick of her wrist, her Zephyr Talons materialized, glowing with faint blue wind trails as she slashed through the first Nightfang, leaving a shimmering arc in the air.
The creature howled in pain but didn't fall.
The second Nightfang lunged at Pocahontas—who instinctively rolled aside, loosing an arrow mid-motion. The shot struck true, piercing its smoky body.
But the arrow did not stop there.
The wind carried it forward, sending it spiraling through the Heartless, as if nature itself had guided her strike.
Skuld took note of this.
She's using magic instinctively. She doesn't even realize it yet…
The Wraith Stalker suddenly blurred forward, its form shifting as it moved. It appeared behind John Smith in an instant.
He barely had time to react—
But Pocahontas did.
Something deep within her reacted.
She turned, raised a hand—
A powerful gust of wind erupted outward.
The Wraith Stalker was flung backward, crashing into a thick tree with enough force to shake the ground.
Pocahontas stood there, wide-eyed, her chest rising and falling.
The wind—had she called it?
Skuld looked at her in shock. "You—"
But there was no time. The Wraith Stalker rose again.
The battle wasn't over.
Far away, by the ancient willow tree, Helios closed his eyes.
The air had shifted. The forest trembled.
"Ah," he muttered, "there it is."
Grandmother Willow's deep voice hummed from above him. "The river is splitting, but not all paths lead home."
Helios smirked. "Yeah, that sounds about right. My home is gone after all, but if there isn't a path then I'll just have to make one with my own hands."
At that moment, Aqua felt it too.
Her heart tightened at the familiar wave of darkness.
She wasted no time.
Aqua ran through the forest, blue light flashing as she summoned her Keyblade.
The battle was already underway.
The battle was finally turning in their favor.
Skuld delivered a crushing Wind Fang Hunt, her blades slicing through the remaining Nightfang.
John, despite being untrained against these creatures, had managed to hold his own, fighting alongside them.
And Pocahontas—she had begun to realize the power she held.
The Wraith Stalker was on its last legs. Its flickering form pulsed erratically, unable to hold itself together.
Skuld raised her Keyblade. "This is it!"
But the creature twisted its head, and its mouth—though it had none—let out a horrifying screech.
The sound was unnatural, echoing through the trees, cutting into the air like shattered glass.
A deep, reverberating call—summoning something.
Pocahontas clutched her ears. John staggered back.
And then—
The sky darkened.
From the forest, from the shadows—they came.
An army of Heartless, far more than before, began pouring toward them.
They were surrounded.
And then, stepping from the trees, Helios arrived.
His silver spear Bríon na Lú shimmered as he took his place beside them, twirling it once before planting the tip into the ground.
He looked at the growing swarm, then exhaled.
"Well," he muttered, "this is going to be fun. Let's get started."