Shorty: Here's a little interlude into another part of the universe, featuring two of the promised canonical characters. Not much to say, except I wonder if I'll ever get any new readers. Not that I don't appreciate my current ones. Ah, whatever.


Chapter 8: Angel of the Abyss


Some evils not die.

True evil is far too mean and nasty and big and angry to die. It doesn't grow old, it merely grows meaner and nastier and bigger and angrier.

This is one such evil.


Where he walked, destruction followed. At his touch, people died. At his word, worlds burned. Five hundred years after completing himself, and he still was not finished with his mother's mission. There were still worlds to destroy. Still lights to snuff out.

He descended on the newest world on his path to oblivion. A desolate place, with a scattered landscape of burnt out cities and craggy wastelands of decaying buildings. Miles of desert stretched between monuments of civilizations long since gone. Here and there solitary trees stood like sentinels by themselves, mostly black and leafless, but some were in full bloom, covered in lush green leaves that seemed so out of place in the empty landscape.

Silently, his booted feet touched the ground as he landed before the gleaming white citadel that was the only place in the entire world that wasn't deserted. Two large beautiful long black wings folded behind him, their feathers rustling gently in the vagrant breeze. Walking forwards, he drew his long katana, holding it lightly in one hand.

In the back of his mind, something nagged at him, warning him. He ignored. After, he was Death; he was the Destroyer of Worlds. What did he have to fear?

With a flick of his wrist, he easily cut through the tall gates, sending them crumbling into the dust with a series of slashes too fast for the eye to follow. Walking in, he barely even noticed the armored guards that came out to confront him. In a flash of steel he was past them, and the warriors disintegrated into shreds of paper.

"Interesting," he murmured to himself, holding a scrap of paper that had once been an armored knight. Discarding it, he walked on across the courtyard, not even flinching in the slightest when the doors into the palace slammed open and more of the sword-armed knight constructs poured out.

He smiled.

"Come, then. Face the power of a heartless angel."


The doors fell before him like dust, obliterated by the power of his attacks as he entered the final room. Inside, everything gleamed an immaculate white, just like the rest of the palace, with sparse furnishings and bookcases scattered throughout. The only occupant was a young girl with blonde hair sitting at a table, writing in a book.

"The door was open," said Emeline, not even looking up as she continued to write. The man paused in the doorway. For some strange reason, her calm demeanor unnerved him. It was not a feeling he was used to. Finishing her sentence, the girl hid her pen in the book's spine before closing it and looking up. "I really liked that door, you know. I'm not sure I can get the pattern right again when I remake it."

"Don't worry," said the man with a thin smile, any sense of nervousness about such a foolish girl gone. "You won't have to. This world is at its end."

"Oh? And how do you figure?" asked Emeline, an amused look dancing across her face.

"Because… I am here," stated the man simply, his black wings flaring out behind him with his long black coat.

"You are. And you're late," she added, almost as an after thought.

"Late? Were you expecting me?" he asked curiously. That odd feeling was returning. What was this feeling this little girl inspired? Suppressing the sense, he said, "You cannot expect me. I am Death, and Death is swift and unexpected."

"Only when it is your own death," countered the girl. "And you are not my death. No, you're here because I wanted you to be here. Yes, that's right. I manipulated you into coming here. And now you are mine."

"I'll destroy you," he snarled, blue-green eyes flashing, his narrow slit pupils growing thinner.

"Destroy me? I think not," she said with a little laugh. "Maybe elsewhere, but not here. Yes, anywhere else, and I wouldn't be able to kill you, you who are the Angel of the Abyss. But no, this is my world. I made it. And here, I am god. Here, I am Death, Sephiroth."

Without warning, the fallen angel threw out his arm, shooting a series of black fireballs at the girl, his long silver hair flying in the resulting explosion.

"I know that you used to be the One Winged Angel," murmured Emeline from behind him, book held in one arm to her chest. "What is your other wing? I think I'd like to find out." Before he could turn, her free hand shot out, grabbing the back of his coat. "But let's do that outside. I've already lost enough furniture, and it's so very hard to draw."

The two were engulfed in a whirlwind of paper, and when it cleared they were standing atop the roof of the Paper Citadel. Sephiroth leapt away from her, spinning midair to face his adversary, Masamune drawn and ready.

"Enough play, little girl," he said smoothly, shaking that strange feeling in his heart. "God or not, I will destroy you." The sky darkened, then in a flash, he was behind her in a blinding flurry of cuts. Her body flew apart in the thirteen strikes, only to disintegrate into paper; it was a doll, nothing more.

"I told you, it's useless," she repeated from beside him. Flinging out her arm, long strands of paper shot out of her sleeve as he dodged back away from her, cutting the questing bonds to shreds as they approached. Teleporting, he appeared behind her, striking in time only to destroy another paper doll. Coiling strands of paper shot out of the ground, entangling his legs as Emeline walked up behind him. Flaring his wings out, fire shot out from below, engulfing him in pillars of flames, immediately destroying his paper bonds and flinging her back as she used her book to block the explosive fires. Turning, the sky darkened again as he prepared to attack her with lightning speed. However, the moment he did, her eyes went black, except for pinpricks of light in the center, surrounded by four slight lines of white in the darkness. Sephiroth reeled back in pain as an unseen force slashed open his shoulder, spraying blood in a crimson arc that splattered across the white marble of the roof. Quickly recovering, he shot a series of black fireballs at her, only to have them turned into scraps of paper mere inches before her face. Teleporting away as questing tendrils of paper shot out of the ground at him, he turned, barely managing to block as she appeared above him, shooting more ribbons of paper at him from her sleeves. Slashing at her in a powerful blow, his eyes narrowed in anger and frustration as she fell apart into more paper. Rising up into the air, he spotted her standing on the roof, looking up at him serenely.

"Witness the power… of a heartless angel," he intoned grandly, raising his arms, wings flaring out behind him dramatically. The sky darkened, clouds converging on him in a swirling vortex of lightning and storm. Snapping his arms out, there was a flash of light and an explosive force of magic around the young girl. She immediately flew apart into nothing. Slowly drifting down and landing on the roof again, he murmured, "So much for being a God."

He reacted only seconds before the giant spikes of paper came shooting up out of the ground, nearly impaling him. Jumping up, he hovered amid the forest of bone-white folded fangs, momentarily stunned at the sudden omni-directional attack. Then she appeared behind him, coming out of one of the paper spikes. Shooting out, he turned to face her just as she shot by, engulfing him in ribbons of paper, entirely binding him with it as she landed behind him on one of the spikes, arms out as she grasped the ends of the ribbons. Smiling, she jerked her arms across, pulling the razor-edged bonds tight. The paper fetters sliced shut on nothing as the Angel of the Abyss teleported out of the deadly embrace, appearing behind her, sword drawn.

Not even turning, her eyes flashed black again, and everything around her tore away in her unseen force, the paper forest disintegrating under the impact of her power. Sephiroth blocked with the Masamune, absorbing most of the force but still pushed back. Then suddenly, she was before him, leaning up in his face, mere inches away from him.

"Come on," she said simply. "Get serious."

Grinning, he leapt back then jumped into the air. An explosive force of fire and power surged out from him, shaking the entire citadel with its strength. Before Emeline could blink, he was behind her. She barely managed to block his strike with her book then gasped in pain as he impaled her through the gut on his sword. His eyes showed no surprise when her body became a paper doll stuck on his sword and he was behind her the moment she reappeared. In a series of blinding slashes he cut all upon her before she had a chance to react. As she hit the ground, bloody and scarred, he levitated up into the air, the incantation upon his lips. She had no time to defend herself as the rain of fiery meteors began falling. Sephiroth looked on with grim satisfaction as the burning rocks destroyed the strongest enemy he'd faced in a hundred years. When the rain ended and he touched down atop the scorched and burning roof, Emeline was bloody and battered, barely standing as she held her book before her to ward off attacks.

"You overestimate yourself, little girl," he said, walking up to her. "Now die."

In a flash, he was before her, sword already swinging behind her guard towards her throat. He smiled viciously as it pierced soft, sweet flesh, spraying blood. Then his eyes widened in surprise as the body slumped forwards onto him, revealing the same girl standing right behind it, completely unharmed.

"And you underestimate me," quipped Emeline with a cute little smile. The body on him turned into writhing ribbons of paper that wrapped around his arm before he could escape, forming up around her like a ball, the sides of which engulfed his trapped sword and arm. Burning his arm out with a quick fire spell combined with teleportation, he reappeared a few yards away from the now complete ball of paper. As he watched, the ball slowly thinned and disintegrated like gossamer thin strips of silk around her as she floated into the air effortlessly. When she opened her eyes, they were completely black except for the telltale pinpricks of light surrounded by shining lines.

He had no time to react as the ribbons shot out of the ground, grasping him in a giant paper fist as she floated up to him. No matter how he struggled, he could not escape as she approached him.

"And now, you are mine," she said with a smile. It was then that Sephiroth, Angel of the Abyss, identified that strange feeling that had been gnawing at his heart ever since he came to this world. It was fear.


Emeline sat in her room, lying on her bed as she concentrated on drawing a new door. Over on the wall, two new pictures were pinned up beside a row of similar pages that were written and drawn on. One was labeled Sephiroth. The other was labeled Cloud.