Lost Angel
Genesis Rhapsodos, ex-First Class SOLDIER, found himself passing through one ruin to the next. His first destination after departing from what remained of Midgar was an easy choice; he had to return home, to Banora. When he reached what remained of his past, the sight was a saddening one.
He had left Weiss - the man who had become his 'younger brother' and attempted to force him into joining the Tsviets' rebellion against the Restrictors - near the entrance at the dumbapple groves. Very little of the town had survived the bombing; only a few structures stood the last time he was there, more than four years prior.
His destination was within the crater that lead to the deepest and darkest regions of the Banora mine, where he had finally seen the Goddess of the Lifestream, Minerva. The memory was somewhat bittersweet, for the moment he had finally welcomed death and sought eternal rest, he had been denied.
The trip through the mine, the dungeon, and the various other sections of the caverns had been long and uneventful. As he passed by the dismally familiar walls, he reflected on all that had happened in the ten years since he'd watched his hometown burn to the ground.
All the struggling, fighting, and betrayal ended on the unfulfilling note of rejection. He wanted to return to the place where it should have ended for him; the Goddess Minerva had granted him a second chance for a reason and he had yet to discover what it was. However, no matter what purpose she had for him, one thing was clear; it would not be the end of his fight.
His expression was enigmatic though his eyes burned with the fires of determination. He had to recover his sword. He was a SOLDIER; even if Shin-Ra and Midgar were no more, it would never change the fact that his body was dedicated to the never-ending fight.
He descended the sloping hidden pathway and approached the open doors and the Goddess Materia. Though the device they remained arranged in was nonfunctioning, they still shone brightly.
He passed through the doorway and progressed through a dark hallway before reaching the large, semicircular room. He slowed his approach and listened to the sound of water dripping to the floor and stopped as soon as his eye settled on his blood red rapier.
It stood, point thrust into the stone, blade at a slight tilt. The worn hilt looked as though it had not been touched since it flew from his hand upon his defeat. The blade itself had no gloss left in it and small patches of rust dotted the transition between the silver edge and crimson blade. The crystal mounted in the center had returned to a perfectly translucent white, with only the slightest tinge of purple left.
He walked forward and closed his eyes as he reached through the hilt's extravagant guard and wrapped his fingers around the cool hilt. The unforgettable image of the goddess, his beloved lost angel, standing before him returned, though only in his mind's eye, as he pulled his sword from its resting place. He reopened his eyes and held the blade up, point reaching towards an unreachable heaven.
"Even if the morrow is barren of promises…nothing shall forestall my return."