For a long time Lucrecia floats in space, unthinking, unfeeling.

The first thing she becomes aware of is darkness. Darkness, and then cold.

There's only one tiny flickering orange light somewhere far, far above her, like a candlelight, - almost too far to even see it.

Lucrecia's mind is waking up slowly, sluggish and lazy, thoughts moving in slow circles.

Sephiroth, she thinks. Sephiroth is safe now. I'm in the dark, and Sephiroth is safe.

She doesn't really remember who or what Sephiroth is, but the thought brings comfort.

Slowly she becomes more aware of her surroundings. The darkness around her is nearly complete, but through it she sees a great dark shape, as large as a mountain; its outline glows with faint green light, a strangely familiar shape towers before her.

A flower, she understands suddenly. It's an enormous flower, with multiple petals curved upwards and a stem – or is it a tail? – curved in a spiral under it. On one side the flower seems to be damaged, – the petals are crumpled, disfigured; tiny white particles are floating above that place. The thought of the flower losing its perfect beauty brings Lucrecia a strangely deep feeling of sadness.

She tries to move closer, but nothing happens. Trying to look at herself, she finds no body to see. Lucrecia finds it interesting, as well as the fact that she isn't in the slightest scared by her body's absence. Attempting to move again, she doesn't expect to succeed, – and so doesn't stop in time when the flower moves closer. A moment later, when she finally stops, it's far closer than before; with curiosity she notices that the petals aren't smooth. They seem to be formed by smaller shapes, curling into each other, intertwined so it's hard to see where one ends and another begins-

She isn't even that surprised when, tracing one of the shapes with her gaze, she sees a scaly wing and a toothy mouth of a dragon. It seems to be no larger than a kitten, though, and she wonders where such small dragons live… until she traces another, smaller, shape and finds out that it is a humanoid.

The whole picture suddenly comes into focus. The flower is truly gigantic, and its petals are made out of translucent bodies of all kinds of creatures. Some of them are familiar to Lucrecia, others she is sure never saw before.

Something at the edge of her field of vision catches her attention; she moves her focus there. One of the tiny specks of light that were floating above the damaged petals is slowly descending towards her. She tries to move to meet it; this time, she is ready to stop soon enough.

The speck of light turns out to be a snowflake-like crystal, transparent but glowing with white light. She tries to reach out for it. As she moves, the snowflake grows impossibly larger, its light consuming everything around, completely blinding her for a moment.

When the light fades out, Lucrecia finds herself in a white corridor, narrow, with no doors or windows, the floor slanted to the left and back. Bright, pale green light is coming from water-filled bowls standing on a narrow ledge that stretches along the right wall. The light glimmers to the tune of a quiet slow melody; someone seems to be singing somewhere up above her, although Lucrecia cannot discern the words. The song, however, stops abruptly, – the lights flicker uncertainly, going almost completely dark, and the ground shakes under Lucrecia's feet, – then starts again, as if the singer forgot the lyrics and started anew.

Looking around, Lucrecia can only see a small part of the passage. Lucrecia takes a few hesitant steps forward and sees that the corridor continues to turn to the left – as if it was spiraling around something, leading up.

The song stops again; the lights flicker out, the ground trembles. Lucrecia freezes in sudden darkness, holding her breath, but the song starts, and the lights brighten. She steps closer to the ledge to look at the bowls. They are filled not with water, as she thought at first, but with a strange substance, – not quite liquid, not quite mist, glimmering whitish-green and swirling around. Its movement creates swiftly changing shapes of light and shadow on the walls and the ceiling.

Lucrecia crouches before the ledge and looks closer at the swirling liquid. With curiosity, she extends her arms and touches the liquid with her index finger-

She finds herself on the familiar stone path carved into mountain side; someone is walking beside her, talking, but she is unable to turn her head and look.

"…all of them, lost," the person, – seemingly female, – says. "The whole village, in just a few days."

"So, no Oracles left? Not even one?" asks someone's voice. It takes Lucrecia a few moments to understand that the voice came out of her own mouth.

"Only a few, and those all are small children. Their parents were at the summit."

"So now we have no way of predicting how this situation will proceed."

Finally, Lucrecia's head turns and she sees her companion, – whose face, for a moment, looks completely featureless, and then with a ripple of colors shifts into Ifalna's image.

"Well, I cannot say we ever had it." Ifalna sighs. "As you know, Oracles were unable to predict anything concerning this… Calamity."

"And now they are all dead."

Who those Oracles were, Lucrecia wonders, and why were they so important?

The world blinks out of sight and back in-

She is sitting on a low stone bench in the middle of a round clearing surrounded by tall trees, looking at her own scrawny knees. Her legs seem to be too thin and too short, as if they belong to a child.

"This is not my memory," Lucrecia thinks. "I have to remember this, even after I wake up."

Her head turns, and she finds that she is not alone. Other children are sitting on the benches around her. Their faces are hidden by blurred shadows; when she looks one of them straight in the face, it comes into focus and she sees that it's her school friend Selena.

"…mean that I can't marry an Oracle?" someone asks. The voice seems vaguely familiar, but Lucrecia's gaze stays turned forward and she doesn't see who it is.

A woman enters her field of vision. Lucrecia looks at her; the shadow ripples over the invisible face, and suddenly it comes into view, familiar and unfamiliar at once. It's Lucrecia's grandmother, Kamila, – only it's not her, cannot be.

"You can marry whoever you want," she says. "There are no rules prohibiting it, and if anyone as much as tries to push you into a relationship you don't want, you have to tell Elders immediately. But if you marry an Oracle, your children would only inherit your abilities, and not their father's. And why is that?"

Another invisible child answers, "Because children, before they are born, attune themselves to the part of the Song their mothers are able to perceive. After birth, it's already too late. This means, only Oracle mothers can give birth to Oracles, because only Oracles can hear the Song of Time."

"Correct," not-Kamila says. "What about Priests and Summoners?"

"Both have similar abilities," not-Selena answers. "It's possible for a Summoner to learn to control the flow, as well as for a Priest to learn summoning… But it would take years, and children would be born with weak attunement to both Songs and need additional training. So it's… kind of unwise to waste your own time and your children's like that."

"But some disagree," another child supplies, "and think that they can become a Priest coming from a family of Summoners-"

"Stop," not-Kamila says. "This is enough."

Lucrecia looks down at her knees again. Walking past her, not-Kamila pats her shoulder.

"What about humans?" She asks.

"Humans are lazy and irresponsible," a boy's voice answers. "Their minds are absolutely chaotic; they can't attune to any Song, neither can their children. I don't understand why they are even considered equal to us, when they've chosen to be just animals-"

"Enough," not-Kamila stops him. "Their ancestors chose to not attune their minds to any of the Songs because they believed that such attunement twisted our original purpose and gave us an unfair advantage over other races. That was their choice, true, and they live with the consequences of it-"

"Yeah," the boy quips, "until we come and solve their problems!"

"And this," not-Kamila says, "is our choice: to care for Gaia and all Her children equally. Now-"

The sounds fade. For a moment Lucrecia can still see the scene around her, then it fades, and she finds herself back in the darkness. The snowflake somehow moved away, spinning, as if caught by wind; she tries to chase it, but misses and, somehow, ends up very close to the flower.

This close, Lucrecia can see every single body very clearly; they seem to be fused together, with no visible space between them. Through their translucent shapes, she sees a pulsing light coming from inside the flower. It looks like a gigantic purple Materia hidden in the very heart of the flower, and shines so warm, so bright, that before Lucrecia could stop herself, she reaches out to it-

She is in the middle of a fight. The world is burning around her; flames lick the heavy, dark clouds, and all she hears, for a moment, are explosions and screams. Then she feels herself fly higher, above the clouds, and she sees-

Two giants fighting, earth shattering under their feet; one of them is black and red, with eyes burning purple, while the other is gold and blue. The gold giant staggers, and the black one pierces him with a huge sword-

"And so the old mighty god Ea fell, as young hero-god Anu bested him in battle and took his place in the kingdom of Ki," a voice sounds.

The scene changes – a black bat-like creature dives from the sky, attacking a young woman; the voice sounds again, saying, "Old Goddess Terra fell in battle against the young hero-god Caelum."

Again the scene changes, and again, and again; in every one of them, a "new god" defeats an old one; and in every one of them, beside a "new god" Lucrecia sees the familiar slender form of the purple-eyed witch.

The world fades out and back in, and Lucrecia sees a young woman in a long pink dress. She seems to be praying; her eyes are closed, and her head is bowed. Suddenly a shadow descends from the darkness above, with sword raised to struck, and Lucrecia sees its face, and at the same time recognizes the woman-

"Sephiroth!" she shouts. "Ifalna! No!"

She lunges forward-

"Sister! No!"

The world around her is white. Snow is swirling all around, save for a small area around her, protected by a barrier spell. Outside the barrier, she sees a woman-

It's Ifalna. Only it's not her, Lucrecia reminds herself, because these are not her own memories.

As if to confirm it, Ifalna gives a toothy grin and comes closer, putting her hand on the barrier and stroking it slowly.

"Will you let me in, sister?" She says sweetly. "It's so very cold outside."

"You aren't my sister," Lucrecia whispers, feeling a hot tear slipping down her cheek. "Not anymore."

"Are you sure?" not-Ifalna asks, raising her brows. "I wear her face, I have her memories… How am I not her? What is the difference?"

Lucrecia doesn't answer. She feels herself concentrate on something, some kind of a feeling she can't quite decipher, which makes her head spin a little, and the memory around her to lose focus for a moment.

The wind seems to howl louder, and the snowstorm intensifies.

"You understand that this, all this, is pointless?" not-Ifalna asks. "This won't kill me. Your kind, on the other hand… They are dying right now, you know?"

Tears slide down Lucrecia's cheeks, but she keeps quiet.

"They are burning themselves out to keep me here, frozen," the Ifalna-shaped thing continues, slowly walking the circle around the barrier. "But you have to understand that this winter isn't going to last forever. Someday the cold will weaken, the snow will melt… and who will stop me then, if none of you will be around? Isn't it better to stop this madness, sister? I'll even let you go back to your precious Library and live the rest of your days in peace."

"Humans will stop you," Lucrecia says. "They'll have time, and all our knowledge, on their side. They'll find a way."

"Oh, humans!" the thing exclaims in a mocking tone. "How could I forget about them! How did that boy from your class call them? – ah, yes, – lazy, irresponsible, with minds incapable of forming one clear thought! Of course they'll find a way to stop me!"

"He was wrong," Lucrecia says.

"Was he? Why are you so sure? He was right about me!" The thing grins.

"Because Gaia places her trust with them, and I should too."

The thing hums, continuing its slow circular path. Its right hand never leaves the barrier; it seems to glow dimmer where the hand touches it.

"I don't think humans will be very trusting to your kind," the thing says at last. "How do you think they see what's happening now?"

Lucrecia glances at not-Ifalna briefly. Its sight brings almost physical pain; familiar, loved face twisted in an alien expression, eyes glowing faint purple… she looks away again.

"Well, I will tell you," not-Ifalna says. "They won't believe a word coming out of your people's mouths. And do you know why? Because your dumb Elders kept me a secret for too long, and I haven't wasted that time. I had my puppets sent to humans' villages; they never last long, but long enough to plant seeds of mistrust. And what do humans think is happening now? All they see is you, an evil witch of the North, killing your own kind and humans alike with a blizzard the kind of which the world had never seen before. What they will believe, is that the Cetra are the worst kind of monsters. Even in a thousand years they will not forget, and they will never trust your people again."

"You are lying," Lucrecia chokes out.

"You want to believe I am, but you know I am not," the thing smirks, finishing another circle. The bubble of the barrier flickers briefly, but still holds. The snowstorm grows even stronger.

"No," Lucrecia says. "You're just trying to stop me from finishing my task."

"I don't think you really believe that," the thing smiles. "Do you know how they will remember you, my dear sister, Zenova?"

"I don't care," whispers Lucrecia, – or Zenova – or… Jenova?

"Oh, I think you do, sister-"

"I- DON'T- CARE!" Jenova shouts. The snowstorm howls like a pack of hungry bandersnatches. A sudden onset of wind knocks not-Ifalna down; she disappears under the swirling snow.

"And you are not my sister," adds Jenova with venom.

The thing climbs up to its feet, swaying with the gusts of wind. It snarls wordlessly at Jenova, stalks closer to the barrier which is barely holding now. With one sharp strike of a claw-like hand, the thing breaks it. Jenova closes her eyes and concentrates one last time. She has to finish the process. Only a few more moments…

Only a few moments…

Only a few-

Cold claws are closing around her throat. She feels cold sliding under her skin, up her veins-

Just a little more-

"The flow is steady," she thinks with contentment, feeling the icy tendrils reach her eyes. "I've done it."

The cold engulfs her completely. The world fades away, and she fades away along with it.


Lucrecia came awake with a gasp, momentarily blinded by a harsh white light. Squinting against it, she looked around, confused. What had happened? Had she fallen unconscious again? The last thing she remembered…

Oh.

The crypt.

She remembered her blood slowly pooling around her. She remembered pain and cold, remembered darkness rising and enveloping her, pulling her under.

Why wasn't she dead yet?

Simon's face appeared in her field of vision. He looked exhausted. She tried to say something, but started coughing instead; he helped her sit up and pressed a cup of water to her lips. Water smelled faintly of Mako; strangely, the smell made her want more. She drank all of it gratefully, stopping only to take a breath.

While Simon turned around to put the cup on the table, she quickly looked herself over. Her dress was crusted with dried blood; her forearms were wrapped in white gauze stained with blood, but she wasn't feeling any pain.

"Let me," Simon said, taking one of her arms. He undid the bandage and put it away. Underneath, her skin was unbroken, with only a long thick red scar running along her forearm, small bits of some kind of thread stuck to its sides. While they both watched, the scar grew significantly paler and smoother until it was hardly even visible.

"Hm, interesting," commented Simon. "Your regeneration speed isn't much worse than Sephiroth's. I expected this to take longer."

"You… expected this?" She asked, confused. "Did you know I was going to…"

"Suicide?" He asked. "No. I only meant regeneration. I saw it happen to Sephiroth before."

Lucrecia looked at the healed arm. The scar grew even paler. No doubt, soon enough it would be completely gone, leaving no visible trace. Flexing her fingers and gingerly rotating the wrist, she observed the movement of muscles beneath the skin. There was no pain, no difficulty of movements. The cut really seemed to have healed. Lucrecia raised her head, meeting Simon's watchful eyes, searched her brain for something to say. Thank him? Tell him he shouldn't have troubled himself patching her up if she was going to heal anyway?

She didn't say anything, shifting her gaze away from him to the discarded gauze.

Simon wordlessly unwrapped her other arm, revealing the same smooth, whole skin with a faint scar still visible. Lucrecia observed, wondering if she should have felt anything about this. Disappointment, probably. Anger, maybe. Guilt, most definitely.

She felt nothing.

"I'm tired," she said when he was done. "I'll go to my room."

She felt Simon's gaze on her back all the way to the door, but he didn't say a word.

In her room, Lucrecia picked up some random clothes from the dresser without even noticing what exactly it was, and went to the bathroom. Her dress was completely ruined; she took it off, wincing when dried blood pulled at the small hairs on her skin, and dropped it on the floor. Her underwear followed. Avoiding her reflection in the mirror, she stepped in the shower and turned the water on, letting it beat over her head and back and looking at the pink rivulets flowing down her legs and disappearing down the drain.

She still felt nothing.

Reaching for the washcloth, she soaped it up and began to wash herself methodically, cleaning away all the traces of blood. She was almost done when her hands began to shake slightly. She looked at them in numb confusion, wondering what was happening. Her gaze went to the forearms again, to the smooth skin where the cuts had been.

She was still alive.

She was alive because she had failed to kill herself.

She had failed, because Jenova's cells hadn't let her die.

Lucrecia felt her whole body quaking; it still felt like something happening to someone else, distant and unreal. Her legs were beginning to shake too much to stay upright, so she slowly lowered herself down onto the wet tiles. Water kept falling all around her. The need to see Sephiroth was burning deep in her chest, making her breath hitch with effort to stay in place. She wondered idly how long it would be until she snapped (again) and tried to get her son despite Hojo's protests. She wondered if he was prepared to stop her.

She had tried to stop herself, but failed.

Sephiroth was still in danger.

Suddenly it was hard to breathe; she gulped the air, and then again. The shaking became even harder. Through the noise of falling water she could hear sobbing.

"Someone is crying," she thought.

"Oh. It's me."

By the time Lucrecia emerged from the shower, she felt a little better. The awful numbness was gone, as was the terrible despair and helplessness.

Yes, she had failed, but that had happened before she learned about regeneration. Now she knew, and she could think of a few ways to work around it.

Yes, she was probably hard to kill, but that didn't mean she was immortal. It just had to be something quick.

This was just another scientific problem, Lucrecia thought. Just another scientific problem to solve. Not even the first time she had had to figure out how to kill-

How to kill some kind of a monster or another.

She dried herself off and began to put on the random clothes she picked earlier, wincing at the ridiculous ensemble, - red shirt, black slacks, yellow tie and white lab coat. She put it all on anyway; it didn't really matter what she was wearing.

Cautiously she exited the bathroom, abandoning a heap of her bloodied clothes on the floor. The house was quiet and dark. Lucrecia stopped in front of a window for a moment, looking at the damp ground and naked trees. The sky was low and grey with heavy rainclouds, only just beginning to brighten. She stayed in place for a few minutes, thinking about nothing and everything at the same time, lost in memories of happy sunny days, and Vincent's eyes, and Ifalna's laughter… Until, eventually, - far, far too soon, - her thoughts were inevitably drawn to the small boy in Simon's room and the white expanse of northern snow fields. She sighed heavily, forcing herself to turn away and start walking the direction opposite of where she longed to go.

Just one last thing to do and she was ready to leave the Mansion forever.

In the lab, she took the box of Doctor Valentine's rare Materia. There was one labeled "Image Materia," the one that could be used to record a holographic message. She reached for it, but instead, giving in to an impulse, took the one that was labeled "Memory Materia." These were extremely rare; they allowed recording memories and playing them back, although no one knew how to initiate the process of recording. This particular piece seemed a little different from others of the same type: slightly bigger, more green than blue in color, - that was why Grimoire wanted to study in more, believing that it was capable of storing the whole entirety of person's memories. He'd never had a chance to check it, though.

Holding the green sphere in both hands, Lucrecia looked into it and thought how lucky she had been to see Doctor Valentine again, one last time, how, even after death, he still had been helping her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "If I only knew what I was doing… I never wanted anything to happen to you… to Vincent… but…

"I only hope that he can live and be happy, even after this… after what we, me and Simon, did to him."

Lucrecia sighed, closing her eyes and lowering her forehead until it touched the smooth surface of the sphere. She thought of the memories she would have wanted Doctor Valentine to have left behind, of the ones she would have wanted to leave for her friends, if she could. Her mind wandered through the memories, from her childhood in the newly-discovered Bone Village where she had spent a few pre-school years, to the last time she had seen Ifalna, - how harsh Lucrecia had been then, how offended by her friend's mistrust… She relieved the past horrific months and her desperate attempts to save Vincent, the discoveries she had made that were never to see the light of day, the glorious moment when she had created the perfect essence of Chaos, - only for her hopes to be crushed when the Weapon easily overpowered the human's will.

Lost in memories, she didn't notice at first that the sphere was vibrating a little against her forehead. She lowered the Materia to look at it and was surprised at how heavy it felt now; inside, in its bright sea-green depths, hundreds of tiny blurry images were moving: Professor Faremis gesturing at something, Hojo and Hollander arguing, Lucrecia holding the vial of Chaos essence…

Lucrecia nearly dropped the sphere. "What?" she whispered. "How did this happen? Did I activate it? Oh no! How do I delete all this now?"

She turned the sphere this way and that, but, of course, there was nothing but smooth crystal surface. "Okay," she muttered. "If I activated it with a thought, then maybe I can empty it with a thought, too?"

Pressing her forehead again to the sphere, she focused as hard as she could and thought as loud and clear as she could, "I need this gone. Nobody should see these memories. Make them go away." The sphere vibrated for a couple more seconds and stopped. Lucrecia opened one eye, peering at it cautiously. The Materia wasn't semi-transparent anymore; it was opaque, its green surface reflecting Lucrecia's distorted face. She doubted the memories were completely gone, - the sphere was just as heavy as it was before, - but, at least, now there was no way to see them.

She put the Memory Materia back into the box and reached for the Image Materia, when she felt a familiar pull through the mental connection, as strong as ever. Sephiroth was waking up, and that meant Simon would soon be up too.

Lucrecia closed her eyes and focused on breathing, fighting against the overwhelming need to be close to the baby. When the worst of it passed, she quickly took the box of Materia and pushed it under her table. There was no time left to write a message.

The night was almost over. She had to hurry before someone stopped her.

The Mansion didn't have a large arsenal of firearms available for the scientific staff; there hadn't ever been any real need for that, given how peaceful the small town was. What little they did have (except for Simon's handgun and Turk's weapons which were kept no one knew where), was locked in a strongbox in the library adjacent to the lab.

Lucrecia opened the door gingerly; she hadn't been in there since retrieving Doctor Valentine's research notes along with several books on Materia, - back in October, when, slowly losing all enthusiasm she'd ever had for Jenova Project, she had decided to busy herself with something more interesting.

The library was dark and quiet. She pulled the switch, and overhead lights flared to life, flooding the room with bright yellow. The strongbox was hidden behind a removable part of one of the bookshelves, marked by a complete set of works by N. Townbee (twelve thick black books with silver letters on spines: "History of Civilizations"). Lucrecia pulled out a few books, found a switch and pressed it, releasing the lock, then moved the section aside, revealing a small recess with the strongbox.

On the top of the box, a single book was lying, old-looking, with frayed corners and half-worn gilding on the letters. Lucrecia squinted, trying to make out the words. The book title read, "The tales of North." It was a familiar title; as a child, it was one of her favorite books of tales. But this one seemed an older edition, maybe even the very first, not an adaptation for small children. On impulse, she crouched down in front of the strongbox and picked the book up, opened it and read, "Myths, legends and folk tales of nations of the Northern Continent, collected by E. Marius."

On the first, blank, page there was an inscription.

"Gast,

Congratulations on your Cetra, and thanks for the vote of confidence. You know how much it means to me. I believe that this time I am right and the Crystal Cave is the place… but you won the race, friend. This book is yours now.

P.S. I will forever regret not beating you to it, Gast; watching you eat that hat would have been such a delight.

Grim. V."

The inscription ended with a date. Lucrecia recognized it as a day only shortly before Doctor Valentine's expedition had left Midgar, heading to the Crystal Cave.

She closed the book carefully and put it on the floor beside her, fighting a nostalgic smile. She wondered what the bet between Gast and Grimoire could have been. Whose theory was to be confirmed first, probably?

She sighed and shook her head, reaching out for the door of the strongbox. It was unexpectedly difficult; her earlier resolve and determination had evaporated, and now her hand was trembling slightly.

"I want to see Iffie again," she whispered, "and Professor Gast. I want to hold Sephiroth. I want to see Vincent wake up."

"You don't have to give it all up," her inner voice supplied. "Sephiroth is your son. Hojo is wrong for keeping him away from you."

She put her head in her hands, trying to block the voice that now sounded louder and louder in both her ears.

"You are the one Sephiroth needs," the voice sang, "to hold him, to love him, to leave this hole and take him far, far away. Mother, mother, help him, take him, bring him home."

"No," she whispered, "no, no, no. Not again. I need to… need to do this, quickly."

Her fingers were shaking still, and it took her several attempts to input the code. She took her handgun and left the library, walking as fast as she could.

"The tales of North" was left lying on the floor in front of the opened strongbox, the remaining gold paint on the book's cover glistening in the bright yellow light of the overhead lamps.