Heart of Darkness

[Mickey Mouse]

“Whoaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

One second he was hurtling through the air, and the next: SPLAT. Mickey Mouse found himself splayed out on the ground, with a headache that reached all the way up to his ears.

With a groan, the mouse slowly picked himself up, dusted himself off, and began to take in his surroundings: everywhere he looked, darkness. A wave of dread crept up his spine and he reached instinctively for his Keyblade, only to find it had disappeared. He gulped loudly and tried to call out into the darkness, but something—a force he could not identify or understand—stopped him.

Seconds before, he sped through the stars in the gummi ship, on his way to investigate the Heartless problem. Now he found himself surrounded by shadows on all sides. Could this be the Realm of Darkness, where the Heartless originated from? Perhaps the Heartless had discovered his mission, intercepted him, and brought him here to stop him. They trapped him here so he could not complete his mission; and here he remained while he awaited punishment. It certainly seemed a diabolical enough plan for the evil creatures, and he had been awful close to discerning their location.

Oh, brother, he thought to himself. Gradually, the little mouse realized the end result of this encounter: They’re gonna kill me. He gulped again, louder. He did not like to admit it—after all, he was King Mickey, the brave ruler of Disney Castle—but he was scared to death of death.

Suddenly, he heard a noise echoing throughout the shadow. Mickey’s ears perked up at the sound, and he whirled around to see a mysterious silhouette almost glowing in the darkness. It stood a few yards away, but Mickey did not dare get closer to it. Once again, he attempted to speak—Hello? Who are you?—but once again, something stopped him. He guessed it had something to do with this guy. He was not totally sure that he wanted to stick around and find out if he was right.

The figure’s voice boomed; Mickey’s ears hurt, but he tried his best not to wince. Showing pain or fear in front of his captors was not an option. So he listened to the silhouette as it explained, in vague detail, what was going on: that somehow he ended up in a world that was definitely not his original destination. Though he had no way to be sure, he surmised that this guy was probably not a Heartless, then. Mickey relaxed, but only slightly.

The explanation was short and sweet—Omni, as he called himself, had no penchant for long monologues full of juicy exposition—but it explained enough. He was in a new world, and with that came a new tool: Omnilium, which, if this guy could be believed, could be used to create anything Mickey’s heart desired. That was pretty much the extent of the mysterious man’s speech; after a few closing remarks, Omni disappeared, and for just a moment, the mouse was alone in the dark. Then—

FLASH!

The darkness was gone. Mickey stumbled backwards and covered his eyes with his hand, blinded by the stunning brightness. Once he had recovered, he looked around, hoping to see some sign of civilization. It seemed, however, that was not in the cards. Nothingness surrounded him on all sides; where there had once been shadow, there was now a great, white void everywhere he turned. A few yards away a large fountain, the only disturbance in the emptiness, spewed water endlessly.

So, the mouse pondered, if this isn’t the Realm of Darkness, then what is it? The figure had called it “the Omniverse.” What was that, though? Even after the lecture, Mickey did not have a good answer. Omni had been a little skimpy on the details, so the mouse would have to do some detective work of his own to figure out what exactly the Omniverse was.

First things first, though: where had his stuff run off to? He spun around a couple of times, perusing the ground. His Keyblade was nowhere to be found; the supplies he packed for his journey had disappeared, too. He peeked inside the fountain—maybe they had been launched into the water on impact—but he had no luck there, either.

He remembered the man’s words: “Anything you desire can be yours.” Could he truly use this rainbow energy to just make a Keyblade? Surely it was more complex than that. Back home, Keyblades were few and far between, sometimes hidden deep within worlds. It was worth a shot, though. Tentatively, he focused on what he wanted: I want my Keyblade back, the King thought. That’s what I desire. After a few seconds, a little rainbow orb exactly like the one Omni had shown him materialized a small distance in front of him. Mickey bit his lip, raising his hands and concentrating heavily on transforming that little ball of energy into his trusty weapon. It took several minutes, but after flashing every color Mickey had ever seen—and even some he had never seen before—the little orb began to change shape. Eventually the energy coalesced into something that seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be exactly like his good ol’ Kingdom Key. Success!

A wide smile flying onto his face, Mickey grabbed the Keyblade, holding onto it excitedly. Then, another thought: if he could make anything, maybe he could make a portal back home! The idea filled the mouse with hope, so he resolved to try. He held out his free hand, focusing on getting back to the love of his life. I’m comin’ home, Minnie.

Just like before, the Omnilium appeared before him. This time he was not so successful, though—after flashing through colors for a few seconds, Mickey felt a sudden surge of static shock, and was knocked back onto the ground. The Omnilium vanished into thin air.

“Ouch,” he squeaked. That might not be a good idea—at least not until he had more Omnilium. Something—though he could not place his finger on what—told him that he did not have nearly enough to be attempting anything of that magnitude quite yet. Instead, something simpler: after a few minutes, Mickey had used a tiny bit of omnilium to conjure up a photograph of his sweet girl. One day I’ll get back to ya, Minnie, he promised. He could not tell you whether that promise was to her or to himself. Both, perhaps.

“Alright,” he sighed, “Let’s go.” He pocketed the picture and sheathed his Keyblade, and, although he did not know where he was going, he began to walk.

[Mickey Mouse]

...and walk, and walk, and walk.

If the Heartless—or whatever monsters made their home in the Omniverse—didn’t kill him, this walking just might. A whole hour wasted away as he walked, and though his destination finally started taking shape on the horizon, the white void still stretched out forever before him. Although Mickey created gummi ships for inter-world travel, he surmised one might come in handy at a time like this. But he would never find one in this emptiness.

The King could not remember the last time he had walked any distance of significance. After the people crowned him King, he took advantage of the many perks that came with the job. Locally, he rode in carriages made out of pumpkins or on mice transformed into horses, innovations brought to the kingdom by Cinderella when she joined the royal court. A trip from one world to another still exhausted him, but the invention of gummi ships simplified even that. These inventions made it all but impossible for the royalty to get the exercise they needed, but no one complained. They fooled themselves into thinking the days of excitement ended long ago.

The mouse scowled; power had spoiled him.

Another twenty minutes ticked by. Fatigue attacked in full force now; at last, Mickey decided that his shortness of breath and shaky legs warranted a rest. He did not see anywhere to sit down; the fountain had long since disappeared from sight. He unceremoniously plopped down and lay on the colder-than-he-thought floor. Deep breaths, he coached himself.

Once again, his thoughts drifted to where he might find a gummi ship. Eventually, he concluded that if his invention somehow had made it to this “Omniverse,” he would not find one in this stark-white limbo.

Wait a goshdarn minute, he thought, a thrilling realization dawning upon him: he did not have to find anything anymore. He merely thought of what he wanted, and boom; it appeared. Not that quickly, of course, but quick enough. Sure, making the portal proved problematic, but traveling between worlds certainly required excessively complicated physics that creating a big, hulking spaceship made out of gummis would not. Summoning a gummi ship felt lazy—it was probably a manageable distance—but fate cursed the mouse with short legs and less-than-average stamina, so he resolved to take the easy way out.

The ‘Omniverse.’ Mickey could not decipher exactly what that meant. One second, he had been relatively safe—mentally safe, at the very least—in his own corner of the universe, and now something stuck him in this place. He needed to find out what the heck was going on, and that meant he needed this gummi ship to materialize and fast. It did not appear as quickly—or as easily—as the Keyblade had, though. After several minutes, though, it finally started to take shape. The little rainbow orb grew bigger and bigger and bigger, until at last it began to look like one of the gummi ships from his world. He held his hands out in front of him, creating the last couple of bits of it when:

“Holy shit! Craig, ye have ta see this—”

Mickey whipped around. Before him stood two warriors—soldiers, the mouse guessed, based on the crest emblazoned on their chests—dressed in burgundy tunics and shoddy leather armor. They carried wooden shields in one hand and bronze swords in the other. Honestly, they looked more like army rejects than actual fighters, but nothing made sense in this world yet, so he refused to make any snap judgments. The one that had just spoken pointed his sword up past Mickey’s head. “Watch out, lad!” he shouted, and the mouse looked up to see the gummi ship, now fully created and powered up, sputter to life and begin to careen towards him.

Mickey’s eyes widened, and he leapt out of the way of the miniature space-craft. It collided with the ground and began to slide along the white floor. The two warriors dove out of its path as it came to a sudden stop. Well, at least it’s not bro—

KA-BOOM!

Fire burst forth from the engine, shutting that thought down before Mickey even finished it. One of the soldiers got up and dusted himself off. He looked from the gummi ship to the mouse to the gummi ship and then back to Mickey. Mickey observed his mess with just a twinge of shame.

“Ye just get here, lad?” the man asked. Mickey nodded timidly. “Ah, that explains it. Ye really shouldn’t a done that—I’ve never in my life met a Prime could summon somethin’ that big their first time ‘ere in the Nexus. Not that worked, anyhow.” Mickey blinked a few times, trying to put together some of the new terminology this guy had just laid down. A Prime? The Nexus? He did not know what any of those words meant. “I’m just sayin’ ye shoulda figured it wouldn’t work, s’all. Not yer fault—yer new here, how’re ye s’posed ta know?”

“So, uh,” the other one sputtered, examining Mickey with a great deal more wonder than his friend, “What are ye? A big, talkin’ rat? Wait, do ye even talk?”

“Shut yer goddamn gob, Craig,” the first soldier scolded Craig, bumping him with his shield. He seemed to be taking this whole encounter in stride. “He’s obviously not a rat. He’s a mouse—look at them ears—yer a mouse, yeah, lad?”

Though he tried, Mickey would not get the chance to answer, for the two seemed content to bicker amongst themselves about it before they would let him get one word in.

“A rat, a mouse, what the fuck’s the difference anyway—”

“There’s a big difference, ya insensitive bastard—”

“Oh brother.”

[Mickey Mouse]

“SO YE CAN TALK!”

Craig observed Mickey with some trepidation, but his friend seemed unphased. “So where ye headed, little lad?” the as-of-yet-nameless guard asked, squatting down so he was on eye level with the mouse.

“Um.” Mickey suddenly felt self-conscious about his high-pitched squeal in front of these overtly-masculine men. That, and he did not really have an answer; where was he going? “Um, I don’t really know,” he shrugged, scratching his head. He glanced over his shoulder at his former destination in the distance, and pointing, said: “There, I guess?”

“Back to Camelot,” the soldier nodded, “Well, that’s as good a place as any. It’s where we’re from.” He gestured to Craig and then to himself, then stuck out a hand for Mickey to shake. The mouse knew human customs quite well—given that humans comprised a great many of his subjects—and so he shook the man’s hand with a satisfied grin. “I’m Conan, and this is Craig.”

“I’m, uh,” the mouse stammered, “I’m Mickey. Mickey Mouse.” Underneath his helmet Mickey could see the soldier smile a little bit.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Nice ta meet ya, lad,” Craig said, though he did not look all that eager for a handshake. Mickey chose not to push the issue. “Conan, can I—uh—can I speak to ye for a second?” the warrior asked, waving his hand for his comrade to come over.

The two spoke in hushed whispers that Mickey did not try to hear. Eavesdropping had never really been his style; as he was King, normally people just told him things, and when they did not want to he assumed they had a good reason. So he did not pry. After a few seconds, they separated and Conan looked back to the mouse. Craig wore a suspicious expression on his face; he had not taken to Mickey quite like Conan had, it seemed.

“Alright, little lad,” Conan grinned, once again lowering himself to Mickey’s level, “Craig insists on continuin’ on to the fountain, so I’m gonna escort ya back to Camelot meself. It’s not too much further away. How’s that sound?”

Mickey nodded, and the two soldiers went their separate ways. They took a few minutes to consolidate their plan of action before Craig started off toward where Mickey had come from and the mouse and his new compadré set off toward what Conan called “the gate to Camelot.” Craig, Conan explained, headed off to the “Fountain of Infinity”—the large marble fountain that had greeted Mickey on his arrival went by that name—to see if any more “Primes” had appeared. Primes, the man explained, appeared seemingly from nowhere, transported from their worlds, which were various, to the Omniverse.

“But why?” Mickey asked, newly invigorated by the meeting of a friendly person and not at all exhausted anymore. “And how does he pick us?”

“Nobody really knows,” Conan shrugged, “And nobody really asks. Omni does what Omni does and everyone just… accepts it, I guess.”

Not me, Mickey resolved defiantly. He did not intend to stir up trouble here—‘peaceful’ described him more than any other word he could think of—but he wanted, more than anything, to get back to Minnie. And Donald. And Goofy. And everyone, really.

“O’course,” Conan continued, “Some people get all worked up about Omni bringin’ in folks that aren’t… well, aren’t strictly human.” At this, he gestured to Mickey. “Craig, fer instance—” he started and then looked as if he wanted to take it back already, “—he’s just nervous about lads like you since his village got raided by Orcs, is all.”

Mickey wanted to ask what exactly an ‘Orc’ was, but he decided to leave it for now. He glanced back toward where Craig had gone, but the other soldier already disappeared from sight. He could not help but wonder if more people would be automatically suspicious of him because of his species; back in the Disney realms, non-humans almost outnumbered humans, so it had never exactly been a problem.

For the remainder of their journey, Mickey and Conan existed in almost complete silence. Occasionally they would strike up a conversation about this or that, but nothing substantial until they finally reached the gate to Camelot.

The gate rose high above Mickey, made of intricately crafted stone. Set against the stark white void that made up the rest of this verse—Conan had termed it “the Nexus”—it looked strikingly beautiful. Mickey stared into it, not completely certain what awaited him on the other side. Then again, he had made bigger leaps before; the first time he had ever strayed from the River, he ended up in the Country of the Musketeers, a place so unlike his home that it had scared him half to death. But eventually, he made his way well—thrived, even—in that world.

He was determined to do the same thing here, and after a little encouragement from Conan, he stepped through the gate.

To be continued in Camelot.