Secret Reports

Recollections— Am I alive? I awoke in a cell, alone until the researchers came with their tests and their prodding to uncover my identity. I had no answer to offer them. Four friends, and a key...that is the sum total of my memory. I could not even recall my name. I was simply called "X" there. My only solace was the time I spent talking with the two boys who would visit from time to time. One day, a man came to take me from the prison. I could not see him for the darkness, save that he wore an

Mark of Mastery Journal— Some days have passed since I set off on my journey to prepare for the Mark of Mastery examination. Eraqus asked for leave to undertake the same pilgrimage, but apparently I am to be the first to tour the worlds written of in the old fairy tales. Until a few short years ago, I'd known only my own world, a speck of land surrounded by sea. But how I'd dreamed of, yearned for the World beyond... And, granted guidance from the future, I left that nest behind. As I treaded th

Experiments of the Heart Notes on Subject X, Excerpt 1— Subject was found in the central square shortly after dawn. Female, approximately fifteen years old. After seven days' observation, she spoke her first words, but could not provide a name. Subject exhibits signs of profound amnesia, and displays concern for which world this is. Her words suggest that she departed her home world with others, though she cannot recall the names of her erstwhile companions. All efforts to explore those memorie

Experiments of the Heart Notes on Subject X, Excerpt 2— Subject's memories have not returned, and our conversations remain less than lucid. What fragments can be gleaned evoke a bygone world, like one out of fairy tales. As improbable as it seems, the question may not be where she has come from, but when. If she truly has crossed through time, the prospect of probing her heart is all the more compelling. My pilot studies used a handful of subjects, but none possessed the fortitude to endure the

Memoirs, Excerpt 1— The castle was a wonderland to us children. Within its walls, Ansem the Wise conducted his research, and the fruits it bore allowed everyone outside to live in peace and happiness. That alone was enough to stoke our interest, though not all of the rumors that escaped its walls were so benevolent. By night, the muffled sounds of human wails emerged. There was talk of dangerous human experimentation. Lea and I couldn't help but hatch a plot to steal inside and sate our curiosit

Memoirs, Excerpt 2— It was too dim to make out her features. We spoke to her in hushed whispers. Who was she? Why was she imprisoned here? She had no answers for us. Had no memories at all. She was an enigma, but I knew I wanted to help her. And so we continued our infiltrations, most of them stopped short at the castle gates. When we did manage our way inside, we spoke with her. That was all the comfort two children like us could offer. But Lea had other ideas. He was determined to free her. We

On the Replica Program and Reanimation— Following my erasure and my recompletion as a human, I did not awaken right away. Perhaps the damage was exceptionally grave. Even after waking, I remained in bed, pondering my next course of action. In my work on the Replica Program for the Organization, I produced some twenty vessels. Most of the early results were failures, not one of them granted a number. The first success to emerge from that early lot was the Riku replica. Subsequently, Xion (No. i)

The "Real" Organization— Xehanort seeks to gather twelve vessels, which—together with his true, actual self—he considers the "real" Organization XIII. Now that he has the numbers he needs, Demyx and I are being treated as reserves. Several others who served Xemnas in the old Organization have followed the same course as mine, electing to abandon their newly restored humanity and rejoin the "real" Organization as Nobodies. But not Xemnas. Xemnas cannot exist in the present because there is alread

Ansem Code Conspectus, Excerpt 1— I have pored over the data my master entrusted to Riku. Here, I offer my preliminary conclusions. Within Sora's heart are three compartmentalized "boxes," each containing the heart of another. One box holds Roxas. Another holds a second heart that has been with Sora nearly as long. The third has held its heart for much longer. These hearts have melded with Sora's and no longer have voices of their own. Any attempt to mechanically extract them could prove as dir

Ansem Code Conspectus, Excerpt 2— As for how to contain their hearts, the only conceivable option is the replicas. If we transfer in the digital memories from the Twilight Town archive, the replicas should be able to reconstruct each individual's human appearance with near-perfect results. Then, their hearts need only the right spark to wake them, so they may find their way out of Sora and Kairi and into those newly made bodies. The Replica Program was truly revolutionary, but it was incomplete

Observations, Excerpt 1— I have seen it through; the Keyblade War exactly as written on the Lost Page. Now, the Keyblade the Master entrusted to me must be bequeathed to another. Five Union leaders have been chosen from the surviving Dandelions. I will pass the Keyblade to one of them, and then continue watching the future unfold. Yet, it seems someone has pulled the old switcheroo. One of the Five is an imposter, someone the Master did not choose. They represent a virus in the program he so car

Observations, Excerpt 2— Even on a worldline with no Keyblade War, peace is but a dream. In the absence of us and our Master, a "darkness" arrived—one that shall surely lead the World to yet another demise. Amid the chaos, I bequeathed my Keyblade to one of the Union leaders, just as the Master instructed. I watched as the Five were sent to another worldline—at no small cost—ensuring the line of Keyblade wielders will live on. And now, Keybladeless, I must depart this land to fulfill my final ta

Observations, Excerpt 3— It seems this body, this name will be my last. The lives I have lived over the ages could fill volumes, but for now, I must focus on what matters most. The Keyblade has been successfully passed down, generation to generation, and it seems a Keyblade Master devoted to the darkness may finally arise. Until now, I have watched over the course of events from a distance. Perhaps the time has come to intervene. I need only play the role of a fool desirous of the Keyblade's pow