The darkness was different here.
It wasn't the usual comforting shroud Kurai carried within her or even the type she wielded with her Keyblade. No—this darkness pressed against her skin like ash and oil, cold but suffocating, heavy with memory and malice.
The Underworld had always been a place of endings. But now, it was a battleground.
Kurai stood just outside the Gates of the Underworld, her keyblade in hand. Without hesitation, she stepped forward. The massive gates groaned open like dying beasts, and beyond them lay the path to Hades' domain.
With each step she took the world above seemed to fade from her senses, and the crushing pressure of the Underworld's cursed atmosphere weighed down her thoughts. Her darkness pulsed gently, rejecting the subtle influence of the realm.
She remembered Helios' words—how the Underworld weakened them. He was right. But Kurai was more resistant to the effects of the weakening.
Descending deeper, she avoided the main roads and walkways where roaming souls and Heartless prowled, choosing instead the hidden cracks in the world where shadows pooled. There, she could slightly cloak herself in shadows allowing her to move without being seen, her presence nothing more than a whisper in the gloom.
But she could feel it. The curse of the Underworld. A slow, insidious erosion. She needed a way to resist it fully. That's where Hecate came in.
Kurai's silver eyes narrowed.
Hecate had helped them escape before but she also placed a target on their backs knowingly. That made her both a liability and a resource. Hades had realized her interference and Kurai suspected the goddess had planned to use them to distract the vengeful god. She needed to track her down and collect what was owed by force so she needed to be quick about it.
The walls of the Underworld shifted the deeper she went. Stone gave way to bone, then to obsidian, then to a cracked, starless void. There were no more screams here. Only silence, so profound it nearly deafened her. Even the shadows dared not move.
And there—between two broken columns formed from petrified souls—stood the same structure which they fought Nemesis before.
A single lantern flickered.
Hecate was already waiting seated on a throne. Her pink skin glowed faintly in the Underworld's gloom. Her dark indigo hair shimmered with residual magic, and the blue streak in it flashed like a comet whenever she turned. Her eyes—were cold as she looked at Kurai.
Kurai stepped forward, slow, deliberate.
"You know why I'm here," she said, voice cold.
Hecate's smile was distant. "I know. I'm surprised you came back without fulfilling our deal."
"You forced us into this. So you'll help me get him out."
Hecate turned, her back to Kurai. "Help? You say that like you're owed something, girl. Do you know how many threads I had to sever just to claw this safe area out of Hades' control? Do you know what that costs a goddess like me?"
Kurai didn't flinch. "No. And I don't care. Give me what I need, or I'll take it by force."
The shadows behind Hecate stirred, readying spells, whispering old names.
But Hecate raised a hand and silenced them.
"So eager to fight. Just like him. It could be love or something twisted for a being of such darkness like yourself." She turned her head. "But very well. You want the spell? The one that bypasses the curse and lets you walk freely? Fine."
She reached out her hand and a shimmering purple light enveloped Kurai. "You now have the protection you need—but only for a short time. After that, the curse will catch up."
The pressure of the realm faded. Her darkness roared like it hadn't since she'd arrived. Kurai turned to leave without thanks.
"And what do you plan to do now?" Hecate asked. "Walk into the Lord of the Underworld's palace alone?"
"Yes."
Hecate chuckled. "Are you sure he's even there? I could help you for another favor."
Without looking back, Kurai stepped back into the blackened void. She didn't wait for a goodbye.
Kurai emerged on a lower tier of the Underworld, closer to Hades' inner sanctum. The scent of brimstone and scorched bone filled the air. Torches lit the stone paths, casting grotesque shadows on the walls.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Don't you die on, Helios," she murmured, stepping forward. "If I have to I will rip my way into the afterlife and collect what you owe me, after all you are mine."
The deeper Kurai went, the more the air felt razor-thin, her breath cold despite the fact that no ice existed in the Underworld. Purple-blue fire danced in impossible directions across the stone walls, casting jagged, leering silhouettes of creatures long dead. Some of them twitched.
Kurai walked silently through it all.
Her keyblade pulsed faintly in her hand. Even with Hecate's spell, the darkness here was almost… aware. It didn't attack her—not directly—but it was slowly eroding the protection spell.
A voice trailed behind her.
"You shouldn't be here."
She spun, only to see the empty stone walkway.
Another whisper. "You will become one of us."
Another whisper came forward. "He's already dead, you know."
She ignored them. They weren't real. They were tricks, illusions. Curses layered into the realm to unmake resolve.
Helios was still alive, she had felt it—that flicker in her heart. A thread of emotion not her own. Pain. Fear. Rage. And something rawer than all of that. What she assumed was hope.
The corridor narrowed ahead, carved into a passage of dark obsidian, glistening like glass polished with blood. Massive doors loomed at the end, black steel engraved with countless screaming faces.
Kurai raised her hand and shadows bent to her will, unlocking the sealed doors with a whisper of power.
Beyond them was a vast throne room lit by blue flames. The floor was scorched and cracked. Chains hung from the ceiling like forgotten sins. At the far end sat a massive throne carved from bones and polished obsidian.
It was empty.
Kurai stepped cautiously inside.
Then she heard it.
A groan quieter than a whisper.
It was hoarse, ragged and cough-filled, ripped raw from the throat of someone who had already screamed too many times.