"On that fated land, a great war shall transpire.
Darkness will prevail and the light expire."
Xehanort and Eraqus sat with a chessboard between them. They'd only just begun when Xehanort brought up their Master's favourite story: the Keyblade War and the foretold prophecy of the Worlds' End. He peered up at the ancient Keyblade mounted on the ornate display. One day, it'd belong to him—he'd make certain of that.
He stared at the blue eye at its center, seemingly watching over every move they made.
"The future, it's already written." Xehanort claimed one of Eraqus' pieces.
"But who's to say I can't change it?" Eraqus replied. "You might be surprised."
They both looked down at all the pieces where they lay.
"Oh, I hope so."