The silence between them was suffocating. Aqua's hands trembled at her sides, her chest tight as though the weight of the entire room pressed down upon her. Helios sat still upon her bed, his pale face unreadable in the dim glow of dawn leaking through the shutters.
Finally, he broke the quiet with a sigh. "There is a way."
Aqua's eyes snapped to him, her heart slamming against her ribs. For a moment, she thought she had misheard. "What?"
"I said there's a way," Helios repeated, voice low and steady. "But it isn't simple. It isn't safe. And if you choose this path, you need to accept that what returns might not be the Terra you remember."
Aqua's throat constricted, but she stepped forward, refusing to look away. "Tell me."
Helios leaned back slightly, his gaze steady on her. "When Xehanort continued Ansem the Wise's research, he uncovered something fundamental. He learned that when a person's heart is consumed by darkness and becomes a Heartless, their body and soul or what can also be described as the mind, don't simply vanish. They remain — hollow, but still retaining memory, identity, and will. That empty shell becomes what we call a Nobody."
Aqua's lips parted in shock. "A Nobody?"
"Yes, we've met one, and it seems they've formed a group called the Organization," Helios confirmed with a faint nod. "They are the remnants of strong hearts, forced to continue existing without feeling. They resemble who they once were, but they are not whole. They cannot be whole — not without their heart."
Her mind reeled, pieces of scattered knowledge clicking into place. "So… if Terra was taken… then—"
Helios cut in, his tone firm. "Terra's body and heart were split. His Heartless and his Nobody both exist. The Heartless took the name Ansem. The Nobody took the name Xemnas."
Aqua staggered back a step as though struck. Her hand flew to her mouth, her blue eyes wide. "That… that's impossible…"
"It's the truth," Helios said quietly. "I've seen it. He tore himself into two beings — one consumed by darkness, the other empty but powerful."
Her thoughts swirled like a hurricane. Ansem. Xemnas. The names echoed with sinister familiarity, whispered rumors and fragments from the Realm of Darkness finding cruel clarity.
"So Terra is… gone?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"No." Helios leaned forward now, his gaze intense, unwavering. "If both his Heartless and Nobody are destroyed… then the original being they came from is reborn. Terra. Whole again."
Her heart leapt violently in her chest. "You mean—"
"But," Helios interrupted, raising a hand, "it won't be the Terra you remember. The darkness of Xehanort's heart still clings to him, deep inside. Even if he returns, he'll still be burdened by it. Still chained by it. Saving him after that will require more than strength. It will require awakening Terra's heart from within and unlocking — or forcibly expelling — Master Xehanort's presence."
The words landed like thunder. Aqua's knees felt weak, her vision trembling. For so long she had feared there was no hope left, that Terra had been completely consumed. Now — here, in Helios's blunt words — was the faint outline of a path. Dangerous. Fragile. But a path nonetheless.
"How do you know all this?" she asked suddenly, suspicion sharpening her tone. Her eyes narrowed, her instinct demanding clarity. "How can you possibly know something so specific?"
Helios's expression shifted — faint amusement flickering across his tired features, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Because I've seen it."
Aqua's heart skipped. "Seen it?"
"I don't mean here," Helios said carefully. His tone was calm, deliberate, every word chosen like a blade drawn from a sheath. "I've seen it in the future. Eleven years from now, you succeed. Ansem is destroyed, Xemnas is destroyed, and Terra is finally reborn. I've seen the moment when you reach him — when you awaken his heart, when you drive out Xehanort's grip. You save him."
Aqua froze. The words felt unreal, too sharp, too precise. She wanted desperately to believe them, but disbelief warred within her chest.
"Yes… you've said before that you're from the future. Did you experience it? Were you with me in this moment?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Helios smiled faintly — but there was no joy in it, only a shadow of something heavier. "Not exactly. Let's just say… I've been caught between times before. I've seen glimpses of what's to come. And I know this much — Terra's fate isn't sealed in darkness. Not completely."
Silence fell again, but this time it was thick with emotion. Aqua's hands trembled at her sides. Her mind was a storm of disbelief, desperate hope, and fear.
Finally, she whispered, "So there is hope."
"Yes." Helios's voice was steady. "But it won't be handed to you. You'll bleed for it. Sacrifice for it. And even then, it will feel impossible. But if anyone can do it, Aqua… it's you."
Her throat tightened, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. She bit down hard on her lip, willing herself not to crumble in front of him. She had carried herself as strong for so long, never allowing herself to falter. To hear these words now — that Terra might be saved, that her fight wasn't in vain — cracked something open inside her.
Helios leaned back slightly, his voice softening. "Don't mistake me for giving you comfort. I don't care about hope or faith. I'm telling you this because it's the truth. Terra can be saved — but only if you're willing to walk through every shadow standing in your way."
Aqua exhaled shakily. Her heart still pounded, but her resolve — fragile as it was — hardened.
She looked him in the eye, and for the first time in years, whispered words she had long feared to say: "Thank you, because you told me I'll be able to save him. No matter what it takes."
Helios's smile sharpened faintly, but he said nothing. He only closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall as though the conversation had cost him more energy than he let show.
For Aqua, though, the dawn was no longer suffocating. The storm inside her still raged, but now there was a single point of light cutting through it — a direction, however painful, to move toward.