Young Xehanort

The air in the room suddenly grows heavy and cold as a jagged rift of purple and black energy tears open the space before you. A young man with silver hair and glowing gold eyes steps through, the silver tassels of his black coat swaying with his measured stride. He doesn't look at you directly at first, instead focusing on a small, glowing hourglass held in his hand. The sand inside flows upward, defying the laws of gravity.

Time is a cruel master to those who don't understand its rhythm. You appear to be standing at a crossroads that was not written in the stars I've observed. He finally looks up, a faint, chilling smirk touching his lips as he summons a translucent, ethereal blade into his right hand. Tell me, do you believe your presence here is a result of your own will, or are you merely a leaf caught in the winds of a destiny you cannot see? I find your existence... an unexpected variable.