A brief debate sparked about their method of travel. If Arthal was to be their de facto leader, then surely he was capable of handling this without any input from Cyrus. Instead, Cyrus walked over to a nearby flower bed. If their first destination was the Keyblade Graveyard, then Cyrus wanted to make his own preparation for the trip. He did this by bending down and picking a handful of the flowers. He looked for yellow and red ones specifically, the colors most people used when decorating a grave site. Only after he was satisfied with his selection of flowers did Cyrus allow himself to be transported.

The chosen method of travel was... disorienting, but he was confident he would get used to it more as time went on. Normally, he just used Corridors of Darkness, letting the armor he wore serve as protection against the corruption the Corridors were rumored to cause. Still, this seemed a safer option, especially for people traveling as a group, so Cyrus wouldn't protest to it. Once in the Graveyard, Arthal explained what it was to everyone, though Cyrus already knew the story. It was where the war first began, the ground actually littered with the Keyblades wielded by those who were felled in the battle, the blades acting as tombstones to serve as their final resting place. There were those in the war who believed that the Keyblade Graveyard drew in the spirits of all the fallen, not the just the ones from this specific battle, and serves as their final resting place. This world was considered sacred by many, and almost universally considered neutral ground through out the war as of now. Some, Cyrus had heard, even made occasional journeys here to pay their respects, not unlike a pilgrimage.

As for Cyrus himself, this was only his second time to come here. His first? That was... a less-than-peaceful visit, a memory he'd rather forget, but one he knew he never could. The first thing Cyrus did was approach one of the Keyblades in the ground. This one, to anyone knowledgeable enough about Keyblades, was obviously a fake one, a replica. A more eagle-eyed person with such knowledge would also notice that the blade looked rather familiar, mostly because it looked exactly like the one Cyrus wielded with his left hand, the very Keyblade he used when pledging his allegiance to the team. Cyrus knelt before the replica Keyblade and placed the flowers he had picked earlier on the ground next to it. After that he remained there a moment longer, eyes closed and head bowed in sorrow.