The souls of the children will play a dire part of the planet's plan. A soul is revived; the soul of a half-Cetra is descended to the planet to warn a soul, the "hero". When all seems at loss, two heroes will stand and come forth from the toils of the world of loneliness to stop the ever happenings of three men reviving a dastardly soul.
Final Fantasy 7:
The Requiem of Souls
By: April Leto
The Life stream…the process of life and the center of this planet. The essences of lives long ago, belong to this planet – which is once more in dire need of someone's help…
How many years had it been? Two, yes – it was two years ago since the act of death plagued the prolonged body of a long ago sacrificed half-Cetra. These memories – the isolation of images haunted her soul, the essence of her body and mind. Was she the same Aerith from those years ago or was she still the same gentle spirit that considered everything holy within its wake? These questions only halted her temporary thoughts. Yes, she was still the same – but her efforts were in vain. How could she contact him? Through dream sequences, she could do that, but it seemed pointless, her dreams were like a void that seemed to suck her in slowly. This was a dream that she could not wake up from and the continuous sequence of the events below only be goggled her mind even more.
Was it even worth it now? She closed her eyes, wanting to further concentrate on the area around her.
"Cloud…" she called in a soft voice, the echoes of her voice seemed to drift on an endless torrent of quietness. It was a brief moment before she could actually calculate the correct location of where she was. To channel to Cloud – to reach him through the upper part of the world would not take much effort, but she still could reach him through dreams or inner thoughts.
It would be a weak transmission if she had sent it to him while he was awake, but she knew that Cloud was always in his thoughts and ready to listen to anyone that called out to him. She still clung onto the memories of when she was still living – she would never let those go, ever! Especially the memories of which her and Cloud shared, these were the memories that no one dared to even touch. They were her memories and her memories alone, locked in the depth of her mind.
Sounds of a motorcycle proceeded to course throughout the open area of the now rubble districts of Midgar. The rider upon the motorcycle had blonde spiked hair, which cut like knives in the open air. He geared his motorcycle and went forward with a tremendous speed. The ruins of Midgar were not a pretty sight to see especially in an area where the Meteor had a first run course into the Planet, destroying a huge chunk of Midgar's Sectors.
The rider suddenly came to a stop, his features now becoming visible. He had a smooth round face, but a medium sized nose his eyes were questionable since they were covered with round black shades. He wore the soldier uniform from so long ago, but minor modifications had been made to his outerwear. Instead of the usual shoulder guard, his left shoulder was left to be covered in a long sheet of protection and about his waist; his left hip contained a kind of pants leggings, which covered a minor portion of his being. His entire exterior was covered in black and gave him the kind of attitude that no one was meant to mess with. A final set back was the huge buster sword that was strapped upon his back.
As the rider mounted from his motorcycle, he carefully kicked the kickstand with his brown boot. He proceeded to walk towards the rubble of Midgar.
"It happened…Only two years ago…Yet it feels an eternity has passed before these mako-eyes of mine. Is there a possible way that I can atone for what I've done?"
Traces of chunked metal were scattered about the place, the boots of the rider kicked up particles of dirt as he stopped in front of something so vaguely of remembrance. The place seemed clandestine, yet in all of its glory; it seemed to have a soft tint of light that spread through its mural like paintings. A cathedral standing at least two stories high stood heavily damaged upon the wreckage that surrounded the rider.
The rider took off his shades, looking forward with rounded mako-blue opal eyes.
Cloud Strife stopped at the entrance of the cathedral; he pressed a black gloved hand forward on the ancient doorframe of the church. The two doors slowly opened, but dust seemed to kick in as Cloud entered the church. He walked forward, but with a slow pace. The pews that were in the inner part of the church looked damaged and molded from the years of being mistreated.
He passed the pews with ease, slowly bending down onto one knee, the floorboards creaking underneath his weight - he looked down into the beauty of the flowers. One of the flowers seemed to be slowly decaying away and due to the lack of rain in this specific area of the church, the flowers were slowly dying. The sun seemed to beam down through the upper roof, which Cloud looked up with somewhat of an interest.
"Cloud… "
Without even realizing it, Cloud heard his name called – he kept his ears open for him to hear.
"Yes…? Who's there?" he asked patiently, a sort of calm but tranquil look was about him. Him, hearing voices? He had long knew that since he was a puppet no longer and with Jenova destroyed it would have to be someone else, but who?
Slowly getting up, Cloud could smell a familiar scent, a fragrant even stronger than the flowers that filled his nostrils.
"Aerith…" the word left Cloud's lip like a melody long gone.
"You can hear me?"
"Yes."
The scent of flowers enveloped around Cloud, the next thing he knew, he was in a field full of flowers, stretching across the land as far as the eye could see. He felt a gentle pressure upon his back; it had warmth with it - along with the most beautiful scent.
Focusing once more, the half-Cetra slowly appeared into view – a light breath escaping from her lips, she opened her eyes slowly, and she was here! She had gotten through; the smell of flowers filled her nostrils, her long braid settled to her back. She felt a pressure against her back; she knew she could not look to see whom it was, for if she did it would break her spell of concentration.
"Cloud." Aerith whispered once more, trying to regain her stature, a gentle smile crossing her lips. Turning her head to the voice of Cloud, a woman with huge jaded green eyes caught sight of the hero. She was tall and elegant looking, she wore a pink dress which descended down to her ankles. Around her wrists were metal cuffs, she wore brown boots which thudded on the surface beneath her feet as she took a step backwards, closing in on the pressure between her and Cloud's backs.
"What am I doing here?" asked the lonesome hero, wondering if he had truly lost his mind.
"It's been a while. I need to ask something of you Cloud – I cannot talk for very long. The connection is unstable, but I'll be able to talk to you at least for a little while." She seemed distraught and did not know how to hold onto the connection very well – her image was still clear as day. She had the facial expressions, warmth, touch, and spirit of a normal human being. Her time spent in the Life Stream allowed her to increase her powers and put them to good use, especially when the time was needed, this was a crucial time that could not be disturbed. The slightest quiver - sound - or noise could break her connection with the "Hero".
"I cannot help…I am nothing but a hero left in the oldest of stories. I've come to this church to atone for my sins, not for a mission or a request that you ask." he said this mustering what courage he had - even though it felt like his heart was about to rip out at the presence of the flower girl.
"Shilly shally, dilly dally. You've grown cold, Cloud…What happened to the warmth of your heart? Is it true to what I've heard?" Aerith turned her head somewhat, yet caught a glimpse of the hero's blonde ruffled spikes. "That your philosophy is to stay within the walls without confining to anyone? What has happened to the Cloud Strife I use know?" she asked this with a gentle voice, the questions evaporating through her lips without hesitation.
Her words were not hateful, yet neither were they a comfort, they were questions, looking for simple answers.
"The old Cloud is gone. I look to philosophy and reasons as to why I still live while you had died. " his voice trailed off getting weaker at every word…
"No!" This thought echoed into Aerith's mind, she was losing her connection - she, she could not! Not just yet! "Cloud…!"
The flower field slowly dissolved away and the hero was left standing all alone in the church.
"Aerith... Wh - Where are you?" Cloud's voice cracked, the scent of flowers no longer lingered in the church. The smell of collected dust filled his nostrils then. He closed his eyes briefly, opening them slowly, he looked forward.
Aerith had made contact with him, but why? He still lingered on the question of what she wanted from him. Especially during this time, when he knew that the plague of Geostigma had came into contact of the earth. Slowly raising his left arm into the air, Cloud's right gloved hand pulled on the long sheet of cloth, which prospered on his arm, the sheet revealed on his arm, was a trace of dark circles that seemed to swirl around his arm like ancient markings. Soon the Geostigma would take his entire being. Perhaps Aerith was here because of the Geostigma, but then what could she do? She was holy - but how did this make sense? Why did she contact him now?
Hours had passed before the lonesome hero could get a grip with reality.
A female's voice suddenly rang out in silence of the church breaking Cloud from his thoughts, "Cloud? Are you all right?" asked the approaching female.
Cloud quickly turned around his mako-blue opals searching for the source of the voice.
In the doorway of the church, stood a woman with long raven colored hair that reached to her shoulders. Her round ruby eyes watching the figure of Cloud stand alone in the church with a serious look. The female wore a black vest, which zipped up in the front; she wore a skirt, which came to her knees, an overlaying of black covered half of her upper body looking in a way like a coat without the sleeves. She wore combat boots with her black dense outfit; gloves lined her elegant long crafty fingers. On her left arm, an elegantly wrapped bow was tied about the slender arm. Although, her skin was pale and gave her a kind of glowing look from the sunlight, which poured from the roof above the two standing figures, she stood with a quiet gaze.
"I heard you calling Aerith's name." Tifa Lockheart placed a hand onto her hip, her weight shifting to the side. "You look really pale, Cloud." she said this with a concern in her voice.
For Cloud did not hear Tifa's voice clearly, his thoughts were too much in depth. He walked forward, picking up his buster sword and strapping it back onto his back. His mako-blue opal eyes looking ahead of him. It was peaceful here, it was meant to be this way.
Tifa saw that she was being ignored; a question then emerged from her lips. "Hello, Cloud! Planet to Cloud?"
Turning his head solemnly, he only gave Tifa a nod, but then a slow but not so clear answer. "I - I saw her, Tif'…She - She spoke to me…" his voice cracked, yet stuttered and looked like his entire being was about to fall apart.
Taking a step forward, Tifa walked to the hero's side, placing a hand onto his shoulder. "Saw who…?"
"Aerith."
"Wh - What! And you say she spoke to you?"
"Yes…" it was a short reply from the hero, for he seemed to drift off into his thoughts, thinking back to the flower field that he and Aerith had shared, together.
"You…You were probably just dreaming."
"Maybe…Maybe not."
This was all too much for the fighter to consume, her ruby eyes tentatively watching the half with it Cloud. Why had Aerith appeared here? Perhaps it was a vision, no – it couldn't be. All of these questions would go unanswered as they raced through Tifa's mind. Without even noticing it, Cloud had already left the church, the huge oak wooden doors swinging freely without much effort from side to side.
Tifa quickly trailed in after Cloud, her steps light thudding along on the ground without much effort as she strode out of the church.
The hero did not talk to Tifa until they stopped at the side of Cloud's motorcycle, for he finally spoke up, his voice returning to normal. "Next time you roam about fields without someone at your side, you could get hurt." This was his only response as he mounted himself onto his motorcycle. Cloud turned his head towards Tifa; he kicked the kickstand of his motorcycle up and climbed on. He patted a gloved on the seat before him. Getting the signal, the fighter reacted quickly and got onto motorcycle making sure she was balanced as Cloud dug his fits round the motorcycle's handles. With one solid kick, the motorcycle was rearing to go and they both made their way back to the town of Kalm.
