The air grew purer the deeper they walked into the Spirit Woods, following a path only Grandmother Willow seemed to know—though her words had offered no direction, only a path. Helios led the way, his gait steady and unhurried as if the forest itself bent to make way for them. Aqua and Pocahontas followed behind in silence.
None of them spoke. Aqua taking in the sights, Pocahontas deciding what she would do next, and Helios simply wondered how long he'd have to walk to get to this Keyhole.
Eventually, they arrived at the edge of a wide, glimmering lake. The surface was glasslike, utterly still, reflecting the tangled canopy above with perfect clarity. The moment they stepped closer, a breeze danced across the lake—gentle but deliberate. Leaves, golden and crimson, rode the wind in graceful spirals, carried in from the far trees. The motion was hypnotic.
Helios slowed. He turned slightly, watching as the leaves gathered at the center of the lake. Then something happened.
Pocahontas gasped as the necklace around her neck—her mother's wedding necklace—began to glow with a soft white-blue radiance. The stone shimmered like it had been kissed by the moonlight itself. As if responding to her presence, a single ray of light burst forth from the necklace and connected with the swirling leaves above the water.
The wind howled once—and then stilled.
The leaves, now suspended midair, spiraled faster and faster until they merged, forming a radiant symbol in the sky. The Keyhole.
It hovered there, suspended in glowing energy, shaped like a vertical sliver of starlight carved into space itself.
Helios stepped forward without hesitation. His right hand raised as he summoned his Keyblade—Equilibrium. The black and silver blade gleamed under the morning sun, resonating with the Keyhole's energy.
He pointed the tip forward. A beam of pure white light shot from the blade's tip, hitting the Keyhole dead center.
There was a moment of perfect silence.
Then a resounding click echoed through the entire forest, like the sealing of a vault that had been open for too long. The Keyhole slowly dissolved, its remnants scattering into the air like stardust. The lake rippled gently in response. Birds scattered. The wind shifted. And the forest seemed… lighter.
Pocahontas stared, stunned by what she had just witnessed. Her hand instinctively touched the now-dormant necklace around her throat.
"What… what was that?" she asked softly, not taking her eyes off the lake.
Helios gave her a quiet smile—one that didn't reach his eyes.
"Just one less thing to worry about," he said, turning on his heel and walking away without another word.
Aqua lingered for a moment longer beside Pocahontas before she followed him.
When they returned to the clearing near Grandmother Willow, the ancient tree greeted them with a rustle of her branches and a deep exhale that sounded almost like a sigh. Her bark creaked softly as she turned her face toward Pocahontas, her eyes gentle and ancient.
"Come closer, child," she said, voice low and weathered like wind brushing stone.
Pocahontas stepped forward slowly, reverently, kneeling before the tree.
The branches lowered around her like a protective dome, enclosing her in the embrace of ancient wisdom.
"The river splits, divide…" Grandmother Willow whispered, "…but all headed to the same source. Soon, my child, you will face a test unlike any other. And we shall see which course you will brave."
Pocahontas stared up into the tree's glowing eyes, her breath caught in her throat.
"One path will carry pain," Grandmother Willow said, "the other—sacrifice. But both… lead to truth."
There was no judgment in her words. No guidance. Only prophecy.
The wind shifted again. Aqua turned her gaze to Pocahontas but said nothing. Helios stood a little farther away, arms crossed, unreadable as ever. His mind already figured out the meaning of the tree's words.
There was more to do.
More pieces to move.
But for now, the Keyhole was sealed.
And the forest was quiet.
As they walked back through the forest, the trio moved in thoughtful silence.
Then Helios spoke, his voice casual but probing. "So, Pocahontas… How do you plan to deal with Ratcliffe? And what about John Smith? The settlers?"
Pocahontas looked ahead, eyes focused. "Ratcliffe must be stopped. He's poisoned the hearts of those around him and summoned darkness to this land. But John… he's different. He wants peace. I believe he can help me reach the others."
Helios tilted his head slightly, a rare expression of amusement flickering across his face. "That's one way to do it."
As they broke through the forest's edge, a familiar figure came into view—John Smith, sitting quietly beneath a tall pine, gazing at the sky. Lost in thought.
Pocahontas slowed. "Go on ahead without me," she said gently. "I need to speak with him."
Aqua nodded. Helios said nothing, only turned and walked.
By the time they arrived back at the tribe's settlement, the tension in the air had shifted. The people were still mourning, but there was movement now—rebuilding, repairing. Living.
Aqua broke away to find Skuld, wanting to update her on the Keyhole's status.
Helios, meanwhile, wandered toward the edge of the camp where he spotted someone sitting alone—Kocoum. The stoic warrior sat near the fire pit, sharpening a spear with deliberate focus. Just the man he was looking for.
Helios grinned and made his way over, plopping down onto a nearby rock with a sigh.
"You know," he began lazily, "it's funny how quiet things get after a battle. All that noise, chaos… then nothing. Just wind and silence."
Kocoum said nothing, his expression unreadable.
Helios stretched his legs. "You don't talk much, huh? That's fine. I'm good at talking to myself."
Still no answer.
He glanced toward the forest. "Wonder if Pocahontas and John's little moment is over yet. I mean… it's been a while."
That did it.
Kocoum's hand paused. Slowly, he stood and walked away—without a word.
Helios chuckled to himself, leaning back on his elbows as he watched the warrior disappear into the trees.
"Yeah," he murmured, "that's what I thought."
And the sky, streaked in the soft amber of evening, slowly began to darken.