Title: Countdown

Author: Silver Symphony

Rated: K

Summary: One by one, the Organization members fall to their doom

Author's Notes: Hope you enjoy; read and review if you like.



Time is no longer relevant to you, but you swear that the castle feels warmer for the first time in days now that he's gone.

He was disposable.


No one misses the lightning storms she caused in her boredom. Remember how she exploded into blinding white sparks? You'd never hear the thunder roar like that again. Her scream still disturbs your sleep.

We still have enough.


"Did you feel that?"


"The castle was shaking just now!"

As you roam the castle halls, you eventually find a deep, smoldering hole in the floor; his sword is buried at the bottom.

Don't panic.


All the gorgeous blues, purples, reds, golds, greens, and whites in his garden are now dead— rotten and hideously black. Flowers don't die this quickly...

Don't panic. Don't panic.


He would perform his final act— disappearing into someone.

Don't panic, don't-


You cannot quite remember what fits here. Little unfamiliar fragments of the forgotten remain in your mind to haunt your inner peace.

There's no need to panic.


Silence suffocates the castle. Anything, even his obnoxious guitar riffs, would be better than no noise at all.

Don't panic.


A windstorm rattles the halls of the castle as he vanishes into oblivion. You haven't felt real wind in so long. And it will be the last time you feel the sensation again.

Don't panic, don't—


The enchanted candles burning from the ceiling above the meeting hall flickered as he fought; one by one, the flames died out as embers consumed his body.



"Someone with one eye shouldn't be able to shoot so well."

And it was true. He was exquisite with a gun. Was.



You warned him to beware should the house of cards fall. He finally miscalculated its sturdiness- and it would be his final error- as the cards cascade over your head.

Panic, panic!


And the luminous, heart-shaped moon was at full strength that night. The moon didn't even flinch as he fell.

Is it really over...?


Light has stolen him from his brethren and swallowed him. No, he succumbed willingly to it. Didn't you see how he ripped off his cloak?

...It's over.


As you fight, the futility of the battle burdens your mind. Why are you still fighting? Submit.

You give in. And as you fade in shades of gray, white, and black, one question hangs in the back of your mind...

What went wrong?