A Journey of a Thousand Steps

Drowning.

Drowning in an inkwell of black

Cosmos opened her eyes, she lay in the void. The only light came from her body, igniting her surroundings in a barely perceptible glow. The void sapped her, malicious intent preyed on her mind and she closed her eyes, struggling to keep the voices at bay. Fragmented memories burned beneath her eyelids and she concentrated whilst the void pulsed, struggling to snuff her light.

An army...a war?

The sky tore apart, beneath; she gripped her staff and prayed for her warriors to triumph. The brave held shining crystals and forged ahead. Alone, she fettered evil, but it broke the chains and lunged at her.

Tearing the sky, the world, ripping the fabric of reality.

Ripping through her.

And she ended in this smothering world of black.

Resting here would not do.

Summoning all of her strength, Cosmos hauled to her bare feet and wobbled, she landed on her hands and knees and the void whirled around her.

Eyes hardening, she tried again.

And again. Till she stood upright, soles planted firmly on the ground and filtering the negative energy into her life source. Her feet burned and smoked, around her, shapeless voices laughed, taunting her to give up and return to the great unknown. Tightening her will on the slipping reins of her sanity, Cosmos' eyes burned. Her hair flared, lusterless. The void throbbed maliciously, amassing every means to expel this blot of light. Breathing deeply, Cosmos extended her arms and the veins running under her pale skin, tinted black.

She fought a losing battle.

The crystals, she suddenly remembered. But who did she give them to? Her warriors? Faces eluded her and try as she might, her noble warriors melted into a fathomless being.

Limbs weary, she put one foot in front of the other and forks of light skittered away from where her heel touched the void. Like frightened insects. Head held high and purpose scorching in pale blue irises; she walked, leaving a trail of ivory pearls in her wake. The void cracked along this seam and the angry murmurs started again.

Goddess of Death. Of light. Bane to darkness.

The mumbling swelled in energy and power; the seam tried to repair itself but shied away from the light. Panting heavily, Cosmos journeyed deeper into the void's heart. A destination mocked her and she poured all of her merge energy into achieving it; one foot in front of the other. Heels smoking, her dress tore itself into tatters and one wrong step later, she stumbled and fell on all fours again.

"You are a sight for sore eyes."

A rough, yet warm voice echoed from all sides and straightening to a more dignified position, Cosmos searched.

"What?"

The tone seemed almost mocking.

"You cannot see me? And you call yourself a goddess?"

"Who are you?" Cosmos demanded but no words came out of her mouth. Her hand jerked to her throat and she found it bare.

"...You lost your speech."

The jeering continued and to her right, a ball of shadows detached from the endless wall. Eyes narrowing, the goddess switched strides and marched towards the levitating sphere. It unfolded into a jacket darker than black and a hood covered the individual's face. "I am wounded." A moogle uncovered its face and opened slit eyes to reveal pupils of burnished gold. A dagger flew from the folds in his cloak and clipped Cosmos on her cheek. "Tch, your weakness is appalling!" The moogle thundered and motioned for its dagger. The bronze hilted weapon lifted and whizzed back to its wielder. "How did you end up like this?"

"The war..." A faint whisper detached from her lips. "I remember you." The goddess smiled and a spider web of light cracked the floor. "But why? And in this form?" she asked, words barely producing any sound.

Snorting, the moogle crossed stubby forearms over a tiny chest. "Hmph, of all the meeting places..." he scathed and venomously eyed the void. "As for why, that is none of your concern, I go by the name of Hwit now." Head ornament quivering, Hwit studied the goddess as she attempted to see through his lies. No matter, he turned; she will not be able to decipher him. "Get us out of here, my fur is prickling." He pointed to himself.

How?

Disgust swirled in Hwit's golden eyes but he floated and pressed a warm paw over Cosmos' freezing eyelids. "Sleep," he lulled, "and dream."

The goddess crumpled to her knees and swayed sideways, a tear curved from beneath her tightly shut eyelids and she collided with the marble, inky floor. Cosmos' head split open from the crown, blood trickled, forming a puddle and from the silver ichor, a sapling with leaves mapped by galaxies, sprouted. The sapling grew, sucking the void and filtering to light and it swelled in size, leaves dripping stars.

Unimpressed, Hwit floated around the inert goddess, having nothing better to do, he plopped himself in Cosmos' outstretched palm and waited.

For time to begin.

In a barren field pockmarked with craters of smoking lava, a bronze dragon reclined in a throne. The black metal constantly warped in the heat but was freezing cold to touch. Two moons orbited each other and no sun ever showed its face in the desolate inter-world. Here, the void end and began. Fissures ran deep across the landscape, echoing with the souls of the tormented. Rising from the throne of ebony iron forged from the blood of countless undead, the dragon, scales rippling under yellow moonlight, soared across the fields. The time has come for him to take over. Light lost the struggle and its balancer lay, in the depths of an all-consuming glade. A semblance of a smile pulled reptilian lips back, exposing glinting fangs stained by greed. The dragon dove to the ground, talons burrowing through the rock hard, reddish soil and pulling out a giant blade, dangling at the end, a helmet wearing warrior clung for dear life.

Garland may have lost the use of his legs, but his upper body proved more than a match for weak willed warriors. Dangling from the talons of a great dragon, he squinted at the creature and decided it was not worth killing. Grabbing his monolith of a sword with both hands, he tugged furiously. He wanted to rest. An eternity of fighting against his opponent sapped the life out of him. However, the dragon did not intend to let go and wicked talons carried him to a throne perched on a small mountain. Immediately, his stomach squirmed and the dragon let go. Garland's unfeeling legs registered heat, he sank in a pool of lava and the heat instantly vaporized his skin, working through his muscles and eventually reaching bone. The pain muddled him, he tried to take a good look at the dragon however the fluid in his eyeballs evaporated and the world tinted into dreary shades of grey.

Approximately one week later, Sephiroth gained consciousness. Did the Planet want him back? Highly unlikely, he decided and moved his arms. They refused his command. Calmly, he raised his head but instead of seeing torso and legs, his eyes remained pinned to a pewter grey sky.

Where was this?

Determined, he flexed his fingers and groped for Masamune. Only the crystal gurney's freezing surface met his fingertips. A groan sounded from his left, followed by a crash of breaking glass.

What?

Wrapping muscular arms around his broad, black blade, Jecht struggled to his feet and swung at the fetters snaking around his legs. The luminous crystal shattered easily enough and reformed at lightning speeds. Curses degrading into incensed groans, he hacked and the blade cut deep into his calf, striking bone. Swallowing a hiss, he raised the sword again and brought it down, spearing it through his foot. Alongside him, strangers either lay on tables, or sat in a lattice of crystal, murmuring half consciously. The environment around him resembled nothing of the delicious dreamlife he heard about. Pausing in his senseless hacking, he twisted and the blade flew out of his hands, somersaulting through the air and stopping short from cleaving a giant dragon's face. All the occupants around him stirred but two individuals lay completely immobilized in their beds.

"What the heck is this?" Jecht roared and lunged. "You!" he thundered and kicked himself free, leaping for the bronze dragon looming over all of them. "You were supposed to be dead, we kill-" Sputtering, he stumbled a few steps and smashed face down on the ground, mouth tasting the coppery soil.

Or the blood trailing from his nose.

Shinryu surveyed his chosen warriors though slit pupils. Humans, monsters, halflings...he did not care.

They shall all serve in his grand plan to reunite the worlds as one. The birth of a new world will only precede complete annihilation of the old one.

"Stand," he commanded and the assembled warriors of Darkness maneuvered to upright positions. Most of them wore looks of abject horror. Mouth open, eyes bulging and flickering in disbelief. The spirited ones cursed and the wind tore their hollow words away. "All of you were called for a purpose," Shinryu rose to his wings and overshadowed them, "and once again you heeded my call." The puny individuals before him exchanged helpless glances with each other. "This time, you obeyed my command against your will." A ripple ran through the small crowd. Defeat. Defiance. "You are my chosen ones and you shall rise again to carry out my wishes. This time," Shinryu's voice penetrated through the rocks, soil, through the clouds and struck like thunder, "you will all contribute to the destruction of your worlds and build me a new one."

Faces twisted. Sephiroth snorted contemptuously and turned to leave.

But he could not.

His head tilted towards the dragon soaring higher into the sky. His arms fastened on either side of him and when Shinryu allowed them to move, only then did his body succumb and jerk around, facing a small army of Manikins.

"I expect great work from all of you," the dragon whispered and Garland squeezed his eyes shut. Fight? No, he could not do this anymore. He was a warrior, he respected when battles ended. He adhered to boundaries and the mere thought of clashing swords with him, stirred his stomach unpleasantly. Shinryu took to the skies, great, webbed wings casting a shadow on the assembled party and their underlings. Gripping his blade tightly, the helmeted warrior stared at the two moons circling each other. Pale yellow and crimson danced with each other. A never ending war. In the fields of Cornelia, amongst the remnants of a castle, he breathed his last and his opponent, knelt before him, helm removed to convey respect. War with someone like that? Preposterous, Garland shouted and with great difficulty, rotated to face the throne perched on the hill. Shouldering his flat blade, he moved towards the distant destination, a plan unfolding in his mind.

The warrior stopped short, pivoted on his heel and marched back to his transient army. He raised his sword to the blood-orange stars.

"The war starts again!" Garland boomed, struggling with his wayward thoughts and the unwilling orders spilling from his mouth. "This time, we, the warriors of Darkness will not lose." He swallowed painfully. "This time," his voice rose, "we shall triumph. Darkness conquers all!"

Roots tangled with Cosmos' shock of golden hair. The sapling, now a sturdy tree with an intertwining trunk, rained leaves of light over the unconscious goddess' body and shrouded her. She stirred briefly, her fingers and toes twitching and the tops of the tree spread across the void, blooming color to anything it touched. The darkness frothed but edged away from the blinding whiteness. Retreating, the shapeless forms resorted to watching from a safe distance and muttered with each other. The tree bore fruit, huge, spherical masses resembling planets.

Fifteen such orbs hung from its crisscrossing branches and Cosmos' eyelids fluttered open. Golden tears created a tributary down her face and congealed near her barely visible throat. A necklace choked her and she uttered a dainty cough. The goddess struggled to sit upright, tearing her hair and splitting thick roots. A pure white jacket, trimmed in gold, replaced her dress and extended towards her ankles.

She held her palms out and a star fell, spinning, spinning and elongating to her preferred weapon.

A scythe.

"I bestow on thee, the name of Cierr Harmonia," Cosmos spoke, her voice a life giving stream gurgling in an arid canyon. "Eternal peace." She rose to her feet, steady and strong. "The void told me its secrets. Dark thoughts stir in its depths." At this, Hwit rolled his eyes, he did not need a dreamlike premonition to tell him something was terribly wrong, having Cosmos ousted out of power provided plenty evidence. "Will you accompany me Hwit?" She asked and turned, flowers bloomed at her feet and he vanished. "...I suppose not." Cosmos dully concluded and stately walked towards the single door cut into the Tree of Light. She grabbed the door knob and opened it.

A cloudless sky greeted her and she stepped onto a carpet of windswept grass. Flowers bowed in the wind. Not a human roamed the area. A stone building, ruined by neglect, stood on a path overgrown by weeds. Whitewash long rubbed off, a lighthouse winked in the distance and uncertainly Cosmos let the door shut behind her. The corridor to the void melted into nothingness and she stood, melancholic at the storm scarred ruins.

The goddess smiled, optimistic, she weaved her way through brambles and bushes and through a broken corridor framed by iconic columns wreathed with ivy. Sun drenched stone warmed her bare soles and she absorbed the untamed nature crushing man-made structures. A cluster of buildings faced a main hall constructed of white stone and wooden doors, long torn off brass hinges and devoured by termites, gave way to dilapidated interiors. Serving the smaller houses a passing glance, Cosmos strode to the central building, standing despite its scars. The building's frieze depicted figures, adults hugging children. Humans offering each other water, shelter, a place to call home. Eyes tearing from the top, she entered a shadowed terrace protected by a column of cracked pillars. Doors long gone, the hall interior reflected wooden chests, planks rotted. Stone stairs led to corridors left open to the elements and the dust covered ground muted her steps. Cosmos frowned and picked a golden candelabrum. She squeezed it, crafted it into an armlet and slipped the piece of jewelry on. Taking a last look at the corroded stones, she slowly made her way out.

Outside, a woman draped with a wine red gown and hands mutated into beast claws, waited for Cosmos. The two faced each other and the sorceress' lips pulled into a nasty grin. "I have been told," Ultimecia began, "of a disturbance near Edea's Orphanage." The sorceress lunged and Cosmos' eyes grew wide, she raised her scythe to parry. "Who would have thought that disturbance was you?"

A/N: Hey everyone, I'm back with another story. As previously mentioned, this story is a request and I did my best. Nonetheless, constructive criticism and advice are always welcome.

Disclaimer:

I do not own Final Fantasy or Dissidia, I don't even like most of the battle systems they use in FF but kudos to their intricate story lines and awesome characters. (Kefka comes to mind - okay I'm joking)

This story is written for Bighead 98 who is the co-plotter and co-editor. Thank your for sorting through my mess and making a story out of it.