Warnings: The game itself was Teen rated despite its many innuendos and raunchy humor, so I'm sticking with that. However, if I feel things get too steamy or violent I'll up the rating and make sure to give everyone a heads up.

Pairings: Love Triangle between Sephiroth, Cloud, and Tifa. For Sephiroth x Cloud shippers, be mindful this will be a slow burn process.

Author's Notes: I've had this story at the back burner. Earlier concepts of it played out in another story years ago, but weren't actualized. This is my attempt at creating a FF7 'sequel', a story that plays up the fantasy and emotional aspects of the games. It's also a Sephiroth origin story. I think George Lucas had the right idea in telling the story of the 'fallen hero', even if he failed in its execution.

"Ah, but I'm a villain. And villains don't get happy endings." – Rumplestiltskin (Once Upon a Time)

LAMENT OF MEMORIES

PROLOGUE

To the ignorant misguided fool, the two-storied manor looked harmless. Possessing a refined elegance, its walls were built by fine brick and concrete slab alike. Textured blood-red carpets covered wooden paneled floors. Plentiful book shelves stood tall while oil paintings hung here and there. Yet, the mansion was an ever-changing beast, constantly morphing and evolving. Within a blink of an eye, whole floor sections moved. Entire rooms changed or flipped up-side down. Objects mysteriously disappeared. Intricate-laced windows revealed only a vivid purple sky outside. The sky swirled with sparks of lavender light. There were no trees. No sun or moon. No horizons. It was a vast purple emptiness.

The Preta were on the hunt. They currently stalked the manor's hallways and rooms in search of their intended target. The eerie sounds they made shared a similar effect to overlapped screaming infants. Hunched, these spiteful shadowy forms towered at nine-feet tall with boney elongated limbs and beady-small purple eyes. Their mouths, filled with long razor-sharp teeth, stretched disproportionally larger than their faces. This disturbing feature made it easy for fast consumption.

A group of them gathered around a large humanoid white-feathered creature that lay sprawled across a flight of stairs; its brown eyes staring up without blinking. The Petra greedily tore the feathered creature apart, quickly ingesting its life force with their big fat mouths. Their baby-like cooing sounds emitted loudly as they grinned and feasted on the remains.

The eerie wails reached the second floor. There, a boy of seven-years-old stood in the middle of a study room. His silver hair reached only to his neck. Large cat-like eyes blazed with a green light. A pentagon spell on the door temporarily cloaked the child's presence from the Preta that hunted for him. His left hand slightly trembled as he clutched onto a long elegant blade. Green eyes glistened, as if on the verge of tears. But the boy swallowed hard and listened intently. Aside from the sounds the Preta made downstairs, nosily feasting on fresh fallen prey, he also heard a musical box play somewhere down the mansion's long narrowed corridors. Its chime echoed from various directions.

For the child, the melody sounded familiar. He'd heard it before. Somewhere. Faintly, a whisper echoed in the study room he occupied – I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Seconds later, the musical box stopped playing and the Preta downstairs grew quiet; they were done with their meal and went on the hunt for more. The boy exhaled slowly. He shut his eyes for a brief moment. Then he shifted his attentions to a bricked wall in front of him. It showed a long spiraled staircase that led down to the mansion's basement.

The path to Mother had been found at last.

Staring at the opened entry, the child kept still. A single tear managed to escape his right eye. He should've been happy right now; relieved. After many battles and multiple detours, he finally made it. The end drew near. But his journey to Mother was not without its consequences.

Angeal, Zack, and Lucy… The trio had sacrificed their life forces to ensure his survival. One by one, they fell to the nightmares that plagued this mansion. Lucy had been the last. The white-feathered Garuda-Prime with auburn eyes died fulfilling her promise to protect him. She chose to stay behind and become food for the Preta while he made his escape. The boy never knew why Lucy felt obligated to him. They never met each other in the Before-Life. Her presence felt warm though – I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

Lucy. What did Lucy have to be sorry about? Why did the feathered beast always look so sad? Holding a single white feather between his fingers, the child found it difficult to stand here with Lucy now gone.

Already, he missed his friends. Angeal. The Titan-Prime always stood tall, blocking harmful spells with his rock-made body. His attacks were powerful enough to shake the grounds. He spoke of dreams and honor. Zack. The lively Fenrir-Prime was swift and agile. The four-legged wolf constantly made him smile with his wild witty behavior, letting him ride on his back. Zack used to warn him about the price for freedom. And Lucy. The Garuda-Prime protected him with her elemental spells and remained by his side from the start. Often wrapping him with her massive bird-like wings any time he felt cold, she rarely spoke. Lucy never needed to talk though. Somehow, they were always on the same wavelength.

The three Primes each swore they would help him reach the end of his journey. In many ways, they fulfilled that promised. They brought him to this critical conjunction point. He discovered the path to Mother. But the victory proved bittersweet. The child had wanted them all to arrive here. Together.

Mother waited for him below now. The boy couldn't bring himself to feel happy about this reunion. It was not an easy thing to meet his maker, especially when the intent was to kill her. With his blade, the boy expertly used it to etch a name on the floral-patterned wall next to him. His eyes glowed brighter.

"What are you doing?" a female's voice emerged from behind.

A small girl of similar age approached him. Her body illuminated with a warm glow. She wore a frilly pink dress and a ridiculously oversized hair bow on her head. Rose-red petals appeared in her wake, glowing and dancing in the air like butterflies. Her auburn hair had been braided and pulled back into a single thick ponytail. A smile appeared on the little girl's face. Given the current glum mood, though, it didn't quite reach her green eyes.

The boy paused and turned to her. When he spoke, his voice wasn't above a whisper. "I don't want to forget my name, Aerith. I don't want to forget all that's happened if I wake up again. Maybe by leaving this behind, I can keep everything: my past, my present, and my future. Maybe I can… save them too."

Aerith grew quiet.

Keeping to himself now, the boy continued to stab the wall. He knew what was on Aerith's mind. The writing on the wall seemed pointless given that it did not actually exist. None of the mansion did, in fact.

Memories. This entire place was generated and bound by his memories. Time did not exist. If it did, the boy suspected he'd been stuck here for eons; perhaps more. He had learned the mansion's appearance reflected the same manor he'd originally come from in the Before-Life. Each room led to a place from his past, a past he either intentionally discarded or couldn't remember. It was why certain hallways remained out of reach. In exploring these enclosed spaces, the mansion proved almost as real as any place. Objects felt solid to the boy's touch. The scent of roses easily reached his nose. He could even taste the salty drops of sweat on his lips. The impossible became both tangible and possible in this realm. This, unfortunately, included pain and death.

Mother resided in this realm too. From the start, she called to him. The child heard her voice. Little dove. Save me, little dove. I'm down here waiting, waiting for you in the dark.

Despite the futility of it all, the boy finished etching the name on the wall: Sephiroth. That was the name he needed to remember after all of this was done. It belonged to him. Many other words were added. They were words Sephiroth did not want to forget either. This is the Lifestream. You died. Avoid the purple-eyed man. Angeal, Zack, and Lucy – save them. Mother lied. Kill Mother.

"Are you ready?" Aerith asked after he was done. The tiny girl stood near the entry leading to the mansion's basement. "Are you ready to confront Mother, Sephiroth?"

Before he could answer her back, Sephiroth stared at the wall one last time. Already, the mansion began to heal itself. The letters he just created with his sword slowly disappeared one at a time. Sephiroth growled. He hoped at least a few words would remain if he needed to return to this place. With any luck, though, he wouldn't have to.

"Aerith, what if I fail?" Sephiroth found himself asking aloud. A solemn expression settled on his face. "What if this is the last time I wake up and I cease to exist?"

"You can't cease to exist."

"So sure of that, are you?"

"You can't go away. You still owe me ten more wishes."

Sephiroth gave Aerith a blank look. He recalled the laundry list of wishes the little girl dumped on him when she joined his group. She considered it payment for her assistance. "Aerith, this is serious."

"So are my wishes. You only completed half of them. I've kept tabs. But don't worry. You can fulfill the others when we get out of here. And if you should die, I expect you to come back to take care of the rest. Ceasing to exist is not an excuse to get out of this important responsibility, Sephiroth."

Sephiroth stared at her again.

Aerith walked up to him. Smiling, she took his hand and held it. Her voice sounded low and soft when she said, "I made a promise to you a lifetime ago. Do you remember it now?"

Unable to meet her eyes, Sephiroth lowered his head. "Yes. And because of that, you are here. You died to fulfill that promise. You died by my hand no less."

"I don't regret what had to happen." Aerith squeezed his fingers. "When the chance to fulfill my promise came, I was reluctant to tell you about our past together. I wondered if you knew who I was; if you remembered me. But it was too late. We both grew up and went our own ways. By the time I saw you again, you were far beyond my reach." She sighed. "I should've come back for you. If I hadn't been afraid none of this would've happened…"

"It was never your fault, Aerith," the boy cut her off. "I was the weak one. You were right to have stayed away too." He released her hand and stepped back to create distance between them. "Even if you came back for me, I would've turned you away. I became a different person after the night we separated."

"Because of the Scorpion…?" Aerith murmured. When Sephiroth remained silent, she exhaled. "I never gave up hope, you know. Each day I trained myself. Each day I looked up at the Plate and thought that would be the day I'd overcome my fears and get you out of there. Even if you didn't remember me, I wanted to fulfill my promise."

Sephiroth cocked a brow. "You were going to take on the whole army of Shinra by yourself?"

"What, you don't think I could've done it?" The little girl crossed her arms and made a face. "I'll have you know, I have my ways. I managed to convince a boy to dress up like a girl once. I'm pretty sure I would've come up with an incredible plan."

Sephiroth nearly smiled. Aerith's colorful words admittedly put him at ease.

Up to this point, he felt empty and lost. It was not only the absence of his friends that bothered him, but also the memories he had encountered in the mansion. He learned he was a terrible person in the Before-Life; a powerful but indifferent swordsman hell-bent in becoming a god. Many of the rooms replayed his actions: the village he burned down, the Meteor he summoned, and Aerith's death. Every Preta creature that stalked these grounds, all intent in absorbing his energy force, was actually a life he'd violently taken. Their hate and rage toward him heavily influenced the vindictive nature of the mansion. They had every right to want him gone.

Were sins ever forgiven?

Sephiroth looked at Aerith. She was the only spirit that held no ill-will toward him and appeared exactly as how he remembered her. Despite being the one who killed her in the Before-Life, she still wanted to help. Sephiroth couldn't imagine why. Aside from their brief childhood history, she had no reason to feel responsible for what had happened. She was far too young to do anything about it. And she couldn't have known his heart died on the night he helped her and her mother escape Shinra. That had been the night he confronted the Scorpion. His mentor and guardian.

"This goes beyond you and me now," Aerith said later. She peered into the dreary spiraled path below again. "We need to merge your memories with your core, Sephiroth. And soon. The Obelisks are about to rise. Stygian must be stopped before then."

"Stygian," Sephiroth repeated under his breath. "The puppet master. Mother's creator…"

"If we stop Mother, we may have a chance at stopping Stygian. The two are one and the same."

Sephiroth looked up at some undefined place on the ceiling. "I can sense the other me now, Aerith. That must mean Gaia and the Lifestream are starting to converge…"

"Stygian's influence has grown immensely. Acheron will attempt to contain her. When that happens, everything we cherished from the Before-Life will be absorbed into his Gorge."

The boy frowned. "So long as I'm trapped here, there is nothing I can do. I cannot merge with my vessel. It may die during the purging process. Everything we fought for… it will have gone in vain."

Aerith tilted her head to one side. "Are you always this pessimistic? You're as bad as another silly boy I know." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "The other you is more than just your vessel, Sephiroth. He is your heart. Your fire. Your core. Don't underestimate him."

"Does having a heart even matter? Can it stop Stygian? Can it bring Angeal, Zack, and Lucy back?" The boy stopped himself before going any further. He took a deep breath and stared at his sword, feeling weak and pathetic. "My apologies, Aerith. I did not mean to lash out like that. I just feel so… tired."

"You've used up a lot of your energy force," Aerith quietly explained and stood closer to him.

"I know. It's nearly diminished. I've been here for too long; died too many times. Each time I return I have no memories of what had transpired. Sometimes I make it to this mansion. Other times, I die on my way to it." His eyes wandered back to hers. "I fear this will be the last time I can come back. Soon, my memories will be fully absorbed into the Lifestream. The pieces of me you salvaged will dissipate."

"Dilly-dally, shilly-shally. Don't think like that, Sephiroth. So long as your core remains, you won't disappear. I won't let you."

"To be honest, I am not afraid of the void. I am not afraid of not existing – the world was better off without me anyway. What drives me forward, thus, is not redemption but penance. I do not want anyone else to suffer for my sins again." Across the steel of his blade, Sephiroth saw his own weary reflection. "Angeal. Zack. Lucy… I only wish I could've seen them one last time."

"You'll see them again. Your will is too great. It defied the Lifestream. It will defy Acheron and Stygian too." Aerith bent forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. She smiled again. "Everything will be all right."

Whether it was wishful thinking on Aerith's part or she actually believed that, Sephiroth's expression stayed unreadable. He later spoke in a hushed voice. "Aerith… there is something I must ask of you."

"Yes?"

"If I fail, will you help the other me remember?" Deep in thought, Sephiroth closed his eyes. "I… want him to remember the stars your father used to show me at night. I want him to remember the feathers I used to collect on the rooftop of Shinra's building. And I want him to remember how the lotus bloomed on the night I fought the Scorpion."

Aerith wrapped her arms around him. She held him tight. "I will. And I'll do everything in my power to fulfill my promise. I failed to come back and save you the first time. I won't let that happen again."

When Aerith held his hand again, Sephiroth did not pull away this time. Their small fingers remained intertwined while they faced the long spiraled path below.

By now, the mansion absorbed the pentagon spell. Aerith's holy barrier faded and lost its strength. Able to detect Sephiroth's presence again, the Preta shrieked in unison. Their bizarre baby-like wails echoed throughout the manor. Hungry for the one who damned them here, they lumbered forward and soon converged at the hallway outside of the study room. As the doors and walls violently banged and cracked, both children started their long descent into the abyss below.

The darkness expanded. Aerith's illuminated essence provided Sephiroth his only light source. He stayed close to her as they descended deeper into the void. The heaviness in the area grew stronger. When Sephiroth looked out, he encountered a series of suspended cages that followed along the path of the spiraled stairs.

They revealed incomplete interior or exterior structures; fragments of places he'd been to in the Before-Life. Ghostly-scenes played on repeat in each of them. In one location, a boy bearing his likeness lay strapped to a gurney while a group of masked doctors surrounded him. With large needles, they pumped him with various substances. The child screamed. In another cage, Sephiroth saw himself as a grown man with extremely long silver hair, donned in black and silver armor. This man stood in the middle of a great fire and stared right at him; a twisted smile on his face. His lifeless slit-pupil eyes followed him as he walked away. Multiple whispers soon emerged from all directions.

You are a monster… If you want to be a hero, you need to have dreams and honor… I'll be going now. I'll come back when it's all over… My sadness? What do I have to be sad about? I am the chosen one… I pity you. You just don't get it at all. There's not a thing I don't cherish…! Go beyond the powers of science... Before your presence, science is powerless... I hate it, but I'll concede to it. Just... let me see it… Will the lotus bloom tonight for us, boy?

When Sephiroth reached the bottom floor, all the whispers abruptly stopped and every ghost scene that played now froze in place. The silence that followed was deafening. Sephiroth blinked and looked ahead. He saw a purple door. Standing at least eighteen feet tall, it was covered by a series of intricately written spells that continuously spun and glowed yellow. Sephiroth recognized them as barrier passages; passages written to isolate and contain something.

Both children approached the door. A great power emanated from within. It caused Sephiroth's whole body to go numb. He saw a black mist seep through the door's cracks and didn't move. Mother was there, waiting for him in the dark. He heard her voice. It carried a calm and soothing tone – My little dove. You've come to me at last. Open the door. Let me out. Let me out. Let me out. Let me out…

Sephiroth's green eyes shined in intensity.

The time had come to severe the connection that both made and destroyed him. Yet, a bitter sadness swept over Sephiroth; a deep regret. He shut his eyes. As terrible as Mother had been, a good part of him did not want to let go of her. She served as the remaining tangible bond he had left. A child born from the Jenova Project, he was the only candidate that had successfully fused with Mother. She gave him a purpose. She also gave him something else; something precious. Sephiroth lowered his head. His thoughts strayed back to the Scorpion. In Mother, he saw his mentor again…

"My, my, my, little dove," a voice suddenly addressed him. "You found Mother. In all of your previous incarnations, this is a first. You and your allies surpassed my expectations. Tsk, tsk. That certainly was a big boo-boo on my part, wasn't it?"

A single lavender-colored eye gleamed from the dark void that surrounded the children. From that point, a lean and tall figure emerged. He stood at over seven feet tall and wore an elegant spotless white two-piece suit with a long coat tail. A silver saber hung by his hip. With ruby-red lips and ivory skin, his face was long and well-proportioned. Short, shaggy white hair covered his left eye. As the extremely tall man approached, the white rosary beads around his wrists clicked quietly.

"Acheron…" the boy whispered.

The purple-eyed man placed himself between the children and the sealed purple door. One gloved hand tapped on the handle of his saber. "This is the part in the script where your journey ends and you die, little dove. Still, for making it this far I commend you. I am tempted to pat you on the back for a job well done… before stabbing it with my sword."

Aerith stepped forward. "Let us pass. Our goals are the same, Acheron. We came to stop Stygian and –"

"Shh…" the man quietly hushed her and placed a finger on his lips. The rosary beads clicked loudly.

Aerith flinched back when the ground under her started to rumble and glow yellow. She realized the simple hand gesture Acheron just made activated a spell. A large hexagon-shaped symbol formed under her. The spell expanded outward and became more complex in design. Glowing brighter, it trapped the child in place.

"Your innocent gig may bring all the boys to your yard, but that routine won't work on me, Aerith," Acheron spoke again. "Besides, I will not trade one corrupt force for another. Sephiroth has already tainted the pure waters of the Lifestream with his vile essence and left it in its current peril condition. Not all the bleach and detergent in the universe can clean up the mess he made – believe me, I tried."

"Then give him a chance to make it right again," Aerith implored. She visibly struggled to regain control of her celestial form but, other than her mouth, she could not move. "Let him settle things with Mother and end this nightmare."

"You would leave the fate of the Lifestream and its inhabitants to this boy? This boy who skewered you to death like a shish-kabob? Oh my, your faith in him is astounding."

"Your lack of it is equally appalling."

"Touché. But as the overseer of the Lifestream, blind faith is a luxury I don't have. It is my job to clear the debris and ensure a steady flow of the currents. Right now, the biggest obstacle stands in my way." Acheron turned to Sephiroth. "I thought I dealt with it by shedding its memories and extracting the soul so that the waters could absorb it all. And yet, the darkness that remained swiftly clumped together and manifested itself in three remnants. Of all things! You have the endurance of a cockroach, Sephiroth. Instead of referring to you as One-Winged Angel, I should dub you, One-Winged Cockroach…"

Having enough of this, the boy raised his sword at Acheron. "Enough! You may control the currents here, river god. But I will prove that even a god can bleed if you don't release Aerith and step aside. "

"You are welcomed to try." At this, Acheron bowed his head like a gentleman. The right hand wrapped around the blade's handle. His visible purple eye looked up at Sephiroth. "Just so you know: it is by your actions that Stygian has risen to power. The rot of humankind has always existed. Their malicious thoughts and emotions gave birth to this malevolent presence. But you accelerated her growth to the point of forcing my hand. I stand before you, now, as the protector of the Lifestream, as the guardian of the great cosmos and beyond and… blah blah blah. Well. You get the point."

Sephiroth barely detected the flash of silver that swiped at his face. The point of Acheron's saber grazed his cheek. It did not bleed red, yet, the thin wound leaked with tiny drops of light. His energy force.

"Please don't take my act of completely obliterating you the wrong way, little dove," Acheron expressed. "I'm normally a mellow guy. But you fulfilled your role long ago. The Planet's wrath called for you when the dirty-birdies suckled on its life force, exploiting it for self-gain. A tool of destruction was required to pass judgment and cleanse the sinners with fire. Alas, that test is over and the dirty-birdies proved their worth through the actions of seven individuals. The big-shot hero lived; the villain died."

Acheron pointed his blade directly between Sephiroth's eyes.

"You were the villain of that fantasy, little dove. You were the one that died. Because your services are no longer needed, you must slither back to whence you came –to whence you came… that sounds like something a villain would say, right? Forgive me; I'm a warrior of light so the bad-guy lingo escapes me. Perhaps you can give me a few pointers before I shove my blade into your heart, hm?"

Acheron charged at him with a straight-forward plunge. Sephiroth quickly stepped to the side. Narrowly escaping the strike, the blade ran inches across his eyes. The boy spun in a full circle to deliver a side-slash in retaliation. Masamune managed to nip Acheron's waist. But the wound instantly evaporated. It healed before Sephiroth's eyes. Chuckling, Acheron struck the dazed child on his left leg. The blade slid deep into the boy's thigh, easily penetrating it like butter.

"Sephiroth!" Wide-eyed, Aerith tried to move again. She remained trapped in place.

Even as both hands held the handle of his sword, Sephiroth's body shook. The fresh wound on his thigh felt hot. While his body was nothing more than a collection of energy and thoughts held together, given a physical appearance by his memories, he could nonetheless sense pieces of him drift away.

He had to win this fight. He had to reach Mother and honor the sacrifice Angeal, Zack, and Lucy made for him. He had to end this… nightmare. Yet, here within the deeper dark depths of the Lifestream where the waters ran purple than green, the boy remained at a disadvantage. This was Acheron's domain; his playground. Speed, strength, endurance, and even the manifested elemental steel of Masamune meant nothing to the river god.

"It is the will of the Lifestream I follow," Acheron proclaimed. His white aura radiated brilliantly as six massive white-feathered wings suddenly sprouted from his back. Feathers scattered everywhere. "After we're done here, I think I'll introduce myself to the core you left behind in Gaia. He's grown to full potential, has he not? A shame he is nothing more than a doll with no memories to call his own."

The child gritted his teeth, staring right at him. Sephiroth swiped his blade at the river god's face and successfully sliced it in half. Acheron took flight and rose twenty feet above, sending out a violent gush of wind. His saber finally pulled out of Sephiroth's leg; orbs of energy leaked from the wound.

Acheron's face reconstructed itself in a burst of light. Looking down at the boy, his blood-red lips curled into a toothy grin. "Bitter much, little dove?"

Sephiroth fell on one knee, his injured thigh leaking out more energy. He glared at the river god.

Acheron wagged his finger. "Naughty boy. Yes, I am aware of the other half; the core Aerith salvaged in the Lifestream and you manifested physically in Gaia through your will. You thought you could hide him from me?"

Sephiroth kept quiet.

"As the realms between the living and the dead begin to intersect, I sense him," Acheron confirmed, "Whereas you embody Sephiroth's discarded memories, he embodies the discarded body and soul. But I will keep the shattered fragments separated until all traces of you drift into the void. No one will remember you. No one will utter your name, not even in thought. Sephiroth will be no more. That is the price monsters pay for defying the order of the universe. And for having fabulous hair than mine."

Sephiroth felt the dread of a million souls nearby as the blackness of the void suddenly thickened. The Petra. They had arrived and converged here. A sea of beady purple eyes stared at him from the black void, surrounding him in all directions. Sephiroth growled. At only one-fourth of his strength and speed, he lacked the more powerful aspects of himself. They were locked away with his core back in Gaia.

Don't be afraid. I am beside you, a voice whispered from among the dark shadows that clustered around him and Aerith. Remember your honor. Remember your dreams, another voice added. So what if it seems hopeless? The price for freedom has always been steep, remarked a third. The last voice spoke loud and clear: We are but instruments of war, boy. They will never understand our kind – we don't need them to. Strike without hesitation. Make even the gods whimper and crumble before your feet.

Sephiroth glanced up at Aerith from his kneeled position. They exchanged a long look.

"I won't forget my promise…" the little girl whispered to him.

Aerith maintained her strong demeanor, her jawline set tight while her eyes never wavered from his. Sephiroth felt her strength. It inspired him to rise to his feet. He tightened his grip on Masamune and summoned enough energy to yell. His single earth-shattering war cry echoed across the black void, causing the Petra to go silent and make even the river god pause. In that instance, a single black wing tore out of the boy's back.

The child took flight.

It was difficult to determine the duration of their battle. Five minutes? A decade? Time felt endless. Sephiroth followed along Acheron and soared higher into the void. Their blades clashed whenever they drew near to each other. Sparks of energy surged from their bodies. Keeping track of the projectiles that shot out proved difficult for Sephiroth due to Acheron's blinding light. The intensity of the river god's aura forced him to wince and lower his guard several times. His body suffered fresh wounds. Still, he kept Acheron in his sights and deflected the more powerful swipes that came to him. The boy sent a forward-slash of his own shortly after Acheron stabbed his right arm. The river god narrowly evaded it.

It was during their battle that Acheron began to smile and hum a song. Sephiroth recognized it. It was the same lullaby he'd heard earlier in the mansion. When did he hear it the first time though? Mental images flashed before Sephiroth's eyes. He saw a shattered snow globe with a broken angel glassed statue trapped inside. An instant later, a woman with long brown hair on the ground appeared. He couldn't see her face. She covered it with both hands as she cried – I'm sorry, I'm so sorry… No sooner did Sephiroth hear those words did fragments of other memories speak to him from the blackness.

Ever since I was a child, I knew I was not like the others. I knew mine was a special existence. But this, this was not what I meant. Am I- a human being…? We are monsters, we have neither dreams nor honor… SOLDIER is like a den of monsters, don't go inside… I hate you! I hate Shinra! I hate SOLDIER! I hate you all…! Professor Gast… why didn't you tell me anything? Why did you die…? My family! My hometown! How could you do this to them…!? Abominations spawned by mako energy. That's what monsters are… Sephiroth. You were the greatest monster created by the Jenova Project…

The child lost focus. Even as he continued to soar and strike, Acheron's speedy attacks became a blur. He had trouble keeping up with him. The river god's light immediately intensified and blinded Sephiroth. He covered his eyes. Within seconds, Acheron slashed him across the chest before disarming him with three well-timed moves. Masamune spun away and disappeared into the void. Sephiroth tried to recover it but Acheron grabbed a chunk of his hair and hurled him downward.

Sephiroth slammed back to ground level with an explosion of scattered matter. His black wing instantly dissipated into a cloud of feathers while the entire body glowed white. Orbs of energy trailed away from him in greater numbers, flickering out like lights. He felt lighter than before. Weightless. The Petra, meanwhile, wailed loudly and drew closer. They cooed and manically giggled at him.

Sephiroth forced himself to rise to his feet. He remained standing as Acheron approached. When the river god stopped in front of him, he lifted his face up by the chin. Sephiroth felt too weak to push away. He could barely stay on his feet. Meanwhile, Acheron tenderly caressed his cheek with a thumb. They locked eyes with each other.

"Your persistence is admirable, little dove," spoke the river god, "But here you will remain in the Lethe. You will endure a never-ending loop of suffering until you fade from existence. That is your destiny; your fate. If you go willingly, though, I may grant mercy. For as much as I despise you, that shouldn't suggest I don't respect you."

Acheron lowered his face to Sephiroth's. He gently kissed the child's forehead.

"I will let you diffuse into the Lifestream in peace. You will not endure another cycle. You may even be reincarnated and experience a life you were deprived of. No more hate. No more sorrow. No more loneliness. And yes, you will be loved. You will belong. That is what you've always wanted, yeah?"

Sephiroth's unfocused eyes stared back at Acheron. Peace. That was an unfamiliar concept to him. Born as an agent of destruction, he had known only war in the Before-Life. He'd acquired fame by spilling the blood of others. As for love? Like a lively butterfly, it escaped him whenever he tried to grasp it in his hands. Acheron's proposal sounded tempting. To experience peace. To love. To belong. He wanted all those things the average human took for granted. Most importantly, he wanted to shed his black feathers and completely bury the monster he'd become.

But what of Gaia? Sephiroth thought. What of Stygian? Aerith had mentioned the Obelisks would rise soon. The river god intended to transform the Planet into a Gorge in an effort to contain Stygian; to prevent her infection from spreading throughout the Lifestream. A Gorge… an isolated pocket of space within the Lifestream where all negative energy collected prior to purification. All life on Gaia would instantly be relinquished and absorbed into that hellish place.

"Well, little dove?" Acheron pressed again. "Will you yield? Will you submit to the powers of the universe and restore the balance? Or will you stay a naughty boy and cease to exist anyway?"

Sephiroth frowned. Yield. That, too, was unfamiliar to him. Looking passed Acheron, the boy saw Aerith again. She stared back at him. Her green eyes were glazed. The tip of Sephiroth's mouth weakly curved up. To Acheron, he murmured at last, "I… will not cease to exist. I've… ten wishes left to fulfill for the flower girl… She will not be pleased if I fail to accommodate her demands…"

Even as tears silently streamed down her face, Aerith smiled. Her warmth radiated back to him.

"Besides," Sephiroth resumed, "…it matters not my fate. I am a monster. I am not bothered by the darkness. I am not afraid of the void. Most importantly, I am not afraid of you…"

"Willful and indifferent to the end, I see. A true monster hiding behind a pretty face." Acheron retorted with a scoff. "So be it, little dove. You can't say I didn't try." The river god pointed the tip of his blade at the boy's chest, directly at his heart – the symbolic point of his very being. He plunged it in deep.

Sephiroth gasped.

Acheron held onto the boy, cradling him. He gently drove the rest of his sword in and quietly hummed the lullaby that haunted Sephiroth's memories. His body trembled uncontrollably. Sparks of energy flowed out of him. As his aura dimmed, Aerith's voice was heard somewhere in the background. She yelled his name. She wanted him to fight. Sephiroth felt too sleepy to respond. His eyelids growing heavy, the heavenly light from Acheron surrounded him. It brought him a sense of peace. The river god resumed his soft humming. His beautiful sounds lulled the child closer to slumber. Feeling light again, Sephiroth finally closed his eyes – he was tired, he was so tired…

Within seconds, Sephiroth's light finally faded.

Acheron carefully lifted the small limb body up in his arms. He kissed Sephiroth again. Then he raised him high in the air and turned to the sea of Petra. "The end of a boy's dream draws near. Soon, the waters will be purified. We pray. Let the waters of the Lifestream cleanse this impure fragment of his filth. Let the balance be restored so that the forces of light can shun away the darkness that comes for us now. It is the will of the Lifestream."

Acheron tossed the child's body straight into the crowd of Petra. Hordes of shadowed creatures instantly came upon Sephiroth. They leapt and snarled like hungry beasts. Claws and teeth alike bit and tore off limbs. Vengeance was theirs… how sweet it tasted. Aerith's cry became muffled by their constant cooing satisfied sounds.

As the army of fallen souls continued to feast on the remains, the boy whispered his final words. "My name is Sephiroth… My name is… Sephiroth… My name… Name… My… Sephi… roth…"

And then there was silence.