Sorry it took so long to get this out! I just ended up horribly busy with work and other projects, so my writing kind of had to take a back seat. However, I've already got Chapter 13 of this story nearly complete! It won't take long at all for it to appear, provided my ship's schedule doesn't change. :) So for now, expect it after the 2nd week of May!
Disclaimer: I in no way own any portion of the Final Fantasy franchise except the spiffy stuff I've purchased and the Squall plushie I snuggle with regularity. I also don't own any song by Linkin Park, especially not 'Shadow of the Day' which provides not only the chapter titles for this story but also the inspiration for this fic in its entirety. Please don't sue – I'm simply an E6 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha. For review replies that couldn't be made via PMs, please see the bottom of the page. Enjoy!
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Chapter 12
Well, I finally have my journal. And apparently everything else I am to own from this point forward.
A duffle bag with three changes of clothes and some toiletries in it, my gunblade, the clothes on my back and my wallet stuffed with gil notes. A matching duffle bag for Cloud. And Cloud's company.
I know why it happened. I can understand the logic. It just sucks.
After all, how can a Sorcerer lead the organization whose very existence is derived by the tasking of putting him down? Of keeping him from rampaging and destroying civilization as we know it?
Sure, the rest of the world sees a mercenary organization at their beck and call provided they've got the gil to hire said organization's services, but having until recently been a member of said organization… well…
It doesn't help diminish the ache in my heart, though. To know that I've officially been ousted. Ostracized. Kicked out.
As much as I loathed being Commander, having responsibility shoved onto my shoulders without me even getting a word in edgewise to denounce the tomfoolery of the entire idea, I never thought it would hurt so much to have that responsibility stripped away. It's like a personal affront. Even though I know it's nothing of the sort, it still stings the same.
I hated having that title shoved onto me, true. I despised that during the heat of the moment our leader pressed all of his duties onto me, saddling me with the lives of everyone I'd been raised with, every friend I'd made, ever associate I'd conversed with. But I'd grown to fill that role. While it wasn't something I took immense pleasure in, it was something that I accepted.
It was a role I used to define myself. 'Commander of Balamb Garden SeeD' was something I used to give myself purpose. Maybe a bit of a title. It really boosted my self-confidence on the days when I felt about as tall as dirt to remind myself that I, in fact, was the leader of the most deadly force of mercenaries on the face of the planet. That I headed the men and women that saved our entire world from utter obliteration.
Now it's all gone. Because of…
I hesitate to call it fate.
Because I killed her. I let her die, and I assimilated her powers.
But… gone. Done. Everything my life once stood for is over with. Brought to an early termination.
I was a SeeD. I was their Commander. I was Rinoa's fiancé. I was the Sorceress' Knight.
Now I am nothing, homeless and jobless, with a dead fiancé and no Sorceress to defend. I'm just a listless drifter without purpose, another nameless face in a crowd of nothing, a statistic and an unimportant blot on a landscape blemished by humanity.
Something a little more than that, I guess. I am, after all, a Sorcerer. 'The' Sorcerer. So not only am I a drifting jobless piece of reprobate, I'm also the biggest threat the world has at this moment. Whatever.
I have nothing to define myself anymore – I'm not experienced with this entire new turn of events to use it as a defining factor. I don't want to experience enough of this new power to define myself. I just want a normal life. Maybe find a job, a home. Someone to call my own.
Maybe I've already got that last one. After all, I have a Knight at my side. What an odd Knight, though.
To think, of anyone who would decide to come to my aid and somehow manage to tie themselves to my fate as a Knight, it would be a person who's completely oblivious to the lore of Knighthood. Someone completely alien to this world in its entirety, who has no knowledge of Sorcery, of the workings of the world, of our histories and our cultures.
Seifer would make fun of me if he were here. He'd somehow say this was my choice and that I'd managed to botch it big-time.
I don't feel it was a botch, though. I feel… alright, so it's cliché to say it was fate, but that's what I believe.
After all, this entire situation came about because of Rinoa's death. Because of the one who drove his sword through me to strike her down.
And Cloud has faced with this man before. That much I've seen, and that much he's told me.
What I've seen in Cloud's mind, his memories vivid even though they seem to lie behind a fogged screen that keeps him from being able to recall them with clarity, his encounters with the monster who carries the ridiculously long and thin blade have been monumental clashes driven by hate and passion ignited by memories long buried and never brought to proper recollection.
His memories of the beast I am targeting, buried secrets of hero worship and joy of being recognized by the one he admired above all, disillusion bolstered by craze and mania and blood and fallen friends, are more than enough to let me know that he will be at my side, unwavering and resolute, when I find the one who drove his blade into Rinoa once again.
It's odd. To look into Cloud's memories, to see a world that is entirely not my own. To see different fates, different crises, different races and different cultures. To see a city that would stand easily alongside of Esthar in technological achievements surrounded by townships that make Winhill look enormous and industrialized. To witness, with his limited understanding making difficult the complete comprehension of exactly what I was seeing, the movement of his world to harness some sort of energy incumbent to the planet itself idealized in some mundane idea of 'planetary life force' (as if a rock has life) in an effort to attain self sufficiency.
I guess it's not less odd than it is for him, being thrust into our world so awkwardly. To arrive in a place with no friends, no belongings and no clue as to what was going on. Especially in the midst of our own crisis.
In fact, given his circumstances, I think he's taking things rather well.
We spoke this evening. I… kind of liked it.
Yeah, I could just look though his mind and garner everything I've ever wanted to know about him. In fact, I already have concerning some details. But it was much more… genuine to allow him to come forth with information himself. Actually engaging in a dialogue was… odd, but kind of nice.
I wonder if that's why Rinoa always hounded me to talk to her more often. I always suspected that she could just read everything she desired without my knowledge, as I seem to be capable of doing with Cloud (he hasn't once noticed me digging through his mind – or if he has, he's very accepting and blasé about it, which given his impressively colorful past, I doubt). But… she….
I guess she respected my privacy more than I suspected. Or she was really, really good at keeping the fact that she knew more than she was letting on secret.
I'm guessing it was the former, given the fact that she was always pestering me to tell me what was on my mind and what I was feeling.
It's… odd. I can't really ignore the sensations I receive from Cloud. His mild worry. His confusion. His underlying desire to help. His… attraction?
Pfft. Obviously I'm reading something wrong. And I just wrote 'pfft' in my journal. Shows why I'm continuing this exercise in frivolity. Definitely need to clear the mind if I'm writing such inane crap. My pen's meandering almost as badly as my brain right now.
Trying to focus. We spoke. He told me more of his past, or what he says he can remember. About how he was a childhood bully, about his dreams and aspirations, about his current life.
He told me about the girl he's got back at home. And when he spoke about her, the longing and sorrow in his voice was palatable.
What's funny is that his drive and motivation doesn't seem to be to return to this 'Seventh Heaven' and to her side. It's to defend me. Weird.
I asked him if he was in love with this girl. He'd simply blushed a touch before nodding, almost hesitantly. Like he wasn't certain. Or he was trying to convince himself. Or he had something else on his mind. I didn't pry.
In fact, I've decided to make it my prerogative not to dig into his mind or into his heart.
I can show him the same respect that Rinoa showed me.
I think he'd appreciate that.
And seeing as how he's all I've got left in the world right now, I don't have any desire to drive him to disparity.
How was it for you, Rinoa? Having me as your Knight? Knowing all that I felt, that I thought? How I was exasperated with you at times, and thought of many of your wants and needs and actions as frivolous crap that I simply didn't have time for, but would do just to appease you?
And… how strange is it that now I realize how often I was appeasing her? Normally I wouldn't bother appeasing another, and simply go about my business. But she… she was different.
Was it because I loved her? Or because I was her Knight?
If it's because I was her Knight, then was she desiring that I appease her? Could Cloud be assisting me because I desire him to assist me? Because I've seen his past and know he has a chance of successfully putting down the man who struck Rinoa down?
Bah. I have no time to bother with pondering this right now. I'll write dissertations about it later. Once we've found my target. Once we've either killed him, or died trying (though obviously with that conclusive ending, I won't be writing anything more, will I?).
Though… I really don't want to die.
Is it odd? That I don't want to die?
Because if I would've been asked just a couple of weeks ago, I would've wanted the end to come as quickly as possible. Or at least to have the opportunity to strike against the one who put Rinoa down before my death.
But… if I were to die… what would Cloud do? What condition would I leave him in?
He's not even a citizen of any nation on this planet. He has no identification, no means to garner a job, to recognition of what constitutes a cultural faux pas. In truth, I'm his only connection to comfortable living that exists, and even that is marginal at best. I do have a considerable amount of gil on me from liquidating my accounts, but even that is finite and destined to run dry.
If we live, he'll need me to assist him. If not in the task of living in our world, at least in the effort to establish himself as a bona fide citizen. Or…
Or maybe this power of mine, this magic inherited from Rinoa, will be able to send him home.
I wonder if I should send him home now.
I want to… part of me really wants to. It's not fair to keep him here, to harness him to my task, to risk his life for my revenge. But I don't think he'd go for being cast aside. Not given what I've felt – his heart-felt desire to assist me in my task, his stubborn determination to remain at my side and ensure that I'm alright, would likely earn me consternation for attempting to return him home before this particular battle is through.
I'll simply have to defend him. We can decide what's to be done after we encounter my target.
And if I die facing with my target, he can task whoever receives this power with the job of sending him home.
I don't want him killed.
He's already lost enough in being drawn here by my mistakes. He's already lost his home, his friends, his beloved. He's lost everything that he could have used to define himself. And while his current mindset isn't troubled over such and in fact seems to relish the fact that he has a definite purpose and a means to produce an image of himself that isn't hinged on his spotted past but rather the blank slate of the future and the newly laid ink of today, it's simply human nature to assume that he'll come to reflect on the past and wish for it back. I can't ask him to sacrifice more than he already has in assisting me in my task – so I won't ask him to sacrifice his life.
I have other means of seeing this task completed. I have other recourses.
I'll get him a sword, somehow. Perhaps some magic stones. But I'm not going to force him to be my foundation – I'm not going to allow myself to rely on him.
I will have my gunblade. I will have this power that now slithers under my skin. And I will have my friends.
I know Selphie is going to be tracking me. It's her prerogative. Not only would she do it as part of her job as a SeeD, keeping tabs on the world's biggest risk as to maintain a pinpoint on my location should I lose my mind and decide to compress time or something, but she'd also do it in some weird, twisted notion of friendship. She'd want to know my location at all times so she could immediate come to my aid should I need her help.
Well, I intend to use that. She's going to get a phone call once we find my target. And she can trace it. She will, once she hears nothing but silence coming from my cell phone.
And if Selphie's coming, she'll be bringing Irvine. And likely Zell. As much as I don't want him involved given his injuries, the stubborn fool's not likely to miss this opportunity to help me out one last time.
With at least three of my friends there, Cloud should be well covered. And with me taking point in this fight regardless of what Cloud might desire, he'll come through.
Heck, maybe if I die during this fight, my friends will take him in. I know Zell's reasonable. And Irvine's of the opinion that Cloud's not a bad guy – with his Galbadian-bred hospitality, he'll see to it that Cloud's well set for commencing a new life on our world if he can not make it back home.
Still, even though I plan for the inevitable, I really don't want to die.
I'd like to see what life could be like.
So far, this one day off of Garden has been interesting, emotionally speaking.
I've been riding the trough of the wave, barely holding my head above the crushing waters of despair and dissolution thanks to my removal from Garden. From the only home I've ever truly known. But at the same time, I've been experiencing a small resurgence of hope – an inkling of want and need and drive to do something other than simply face off with the man whose blade pierced Rinoa's body and die.
Maybe if I try, I can find purpose with my new Knight. I can craft a life for us both. And even if that life involves sending him back home, I can live what few days I have before madness takes me and I give in to the whims of the moon with that sliver of satisfaction that I helped the one who helped me avenge her.
Every eye stared at the top of the second spire, squinting as it tried to peer through the radiant light that poured from the slim figure under the dark blanket of the night's clouds.
The vision itself didn't bring any fear to Cloud's heart. Indeed, the figure above was hardly what he'd consider formidable.
It was a young woman, her features thin and soft and delicate, her heart-shaped face lovely and gentle with full pink lips and oval brown doe eyes. Her budding feminine frame was encased in skin-tight black shorts and a matching tank top, over which clung a blue denim short skirt and a billowing blue draping fabric top held shut by a single clasp before her bosom. A slender silver chain sliding around her neck glistened in the light that filled the night, a pair of rings upon the skinny metal line sparkling like miniature stars upon her pale skin.
The huge white wings, looking as soft as those carried by a swan and just as brilliant and pure, gave an angelic aura to the girl rather than any inkling that she was to be feared – the glow they carried that lit the night was something clean and enticing.
Still, Cloud's heart trembled. As he looked at the girl, green filled his vision and acrid burning simmered in his blood.
Every last shred of taint that still boiled in his body was responding to its originator, every nerve ending that was touched in the experiments that fused him with her cellular matter screaming as the source of their creation drew near.
Even though she hardly appeared as she did years ago, when Sephiroth had torn away the metallic barricade that had shadowed her and ripped her head free of the remains of her incarcerated body, Cloud's body recognized Jenova.
He'd felt uninvited fright flood his being when he'd seen Sephiroth standing upon Obel Lake's shore, when the realization that it was no clone he'd be battling settled itself firmly upon him. The very notion of crossing swords again with the monstrous beast he'd faced in Niebelhiem, the man who'd so nearly killed Tifa and Zack, who had murdered Tifa's father and burned his village to the ground, who'd been responsible for his own mother's death, terrified him. The thought of crossing swords again with the man he'd faced in the Planet's Core in his personal battle to cleanse himself of the touch of his dark command over his very soul rattled him. The thought of crossing swords again with the man he'd faced in Midgar, when he'd watched the desperation of a youth desiring only completion and fulfillment draw Jenova's dark son from the Planet's depths, the SOLDIER General so overtaking the youth who'd been nothing more than a puppet as even Cloud had been a bare year earlier, when he'd watched the chosen son of Jenova lead the boy to his ultimate death, nauseated him.
But now he realized he was setting his eyes on something far worse.
He was facing off with not just the one who had been so infused with Jenova's cells that he thought himself a son of her creation – he was facing off with Jenova herself.
And the palatable agony that rang in the back of his mind, the hesitation and the wavering of resolve, made Cloud's heart quiver in deeper terror than the simple realization of what he was facing ever could create on its own.
He was feeling Squall's tremulous ability to face with their opponent fade.
Gulping down his emotions, terror welding itself to rage in the split second it took to realize where that tremor of inability to face with the vessel of Jenova had come from, Cloud let himself calmly assess the situation.
Jenova had been reduced to not more than a few residual cells floating in the Lifestream upon his Planet.
Jenova had been expelled from the Lifestream when the channel between their worlds had appeared.
Jenova had been infused in a new vessel upon this world.
A vessel that, as Sephiroth had stated, could wield a power just as antiquated and mighty as Jenova herself.
The power of the moon, the very might that had buried the enormous monstrosity that had murdered with a brush of angel feathers and laid waste with the winds driven by simply beating its wings to stay aloft, was what Jenova was after.
Cloud's head swam as he was instantly aware of the dire nature of their situation.
Upon his world, Jenova was a destroyer – she was an alien creature who traveled from planet to planet to consume their Lifestreams, infusing herself with enough power to harness a bit of the dead block of her freshly killed world and use it to carry herself through space until she reached her next destination. She was that which would have, given enough time and power, drank their world clean of life. Those who'd harnessed her cells had created the most wickedly powerful men ever known to humanity, the power and realization of their monstrous origins driving them mad.
This world, with its lack of palatable Lifestream with its resultant materia, had its own power and dangers – the power of the moon deity whose hatred congealed in the form of monsters and whose tears swept those beasts through space to deposit them upon the planet below. An eternal struggle between planet and moon, moon to destroy and planet to survive, a balance held for eons time. Power granted to humanity to be used against humanity, to unite humanity in crisis against a common adversary, to balance humanity's might and wry genius with a single being mighty enough to demolish them all.
The destroyer of worlds sought the power of the moon, that power which balanced the planet perfectly and held it in an eternal state of strife and life maintained by the threat of annihilation.
And Jenova had found her vessel, one of the few people on the planet's face who could actually channel the murderously vengeful moon's might.
She simply needed to complete the power, and she would be restored.
The damage caused by her crash landing into Cloud's worlds millennia ago, by the destruction waged on her by Cloud and his companions, would be remedied with one simple task – releasing and reclaiming the power the girl who'd possessed the body before had shucked.
He had only a few moments to stare before the girl lifted a hand, her fingertips aflame with orange energy that seeped through her. A bare second passed before a sun-heated Flare burst into reality.
Only the barest millisecond passed before gunmetal wings burst into being, a hastily raised hand lifting a blue-tinted Shell of unmatched strength to scatter the horribly powerful Flare. Rivets of flame poured around the shield, deflected from their original target.
Arrows of fire flew wildly though the air, some careening into the sky above to singe wispy clouds, some sailing into the Ultima battered woods to set the remains of the forest aflame one more. Some skewed down towards the ground, their heavenward path cleanly interrupted.
Cloud managed to dive away from the gridlock he had with Sephiroth, narrowly avoiding a spear of fire that raced towards him even as his silver-haired opponent did the same. The ground they'd occupied split and hissed, fire burning the mud.
Dashing wildly, tumbling and diving with impressive skill, Cloud work desperately to avoid the hail of fire that streamed from above. The bottom of Obel Lake simmered, the wet mud flashed dry in the incredible heat then splitting open to boil and burst. Small fires lit themselves around Cloud and Sephiroth as the corpses of fallen monsters and water-deprived lake-life burst into flames, their blazing flesh torches that lit their rapidly changing battlefield.
A quick dance around another column of steam that erupted from split ground, and Cloud instinctively lurched to his left.
Masamune slid through his white t-shirt, scraping the skin underneath and drawing a line of red blood from his pale flesh.
Snarling, Cloud slashed Caldbolg forward, his stance awkward and unstable but his fury driving him with unmatched strength against his foe. The swords clanged loudly as they collided, boots backpedaling a step even as Cloud's shoes pushed into the dried and cracked ground.
The pair above the swordsmen drew Cloud's attention for a moment.
Identical spells flew, two enormous beams of red-tainted purple energy springing to life from each combatant. As the spells collided solidly with one another, the resounding explosion rocked the land and blasting the clouds out of the heavens. The brilliant flash of light the explosion created lit the land with the brilliance of day, shadows flying wildly across singed grass and flash-dried mud. For a bare second the land stood in peace as the concussive bang of the spells pummeling themselves against one another faded and the bright light sheen that lit the land began to fade, lending strength to the newly exposed stars' twinkling in the heavens above.
Then the monsters that had escaped the decimation of the woods redoubled their efforts, fire and dark energy and lightning dancing over the peninsula above Cloud and his opponent and being answered with flail and whip and fist carrying magic of their own.
The huge moon above the planet, its white surface being swiftly overrun with red, looked upon the world with a slowly swirling and eerie blue iris that congealed in its ovular surface.
The light of the moon intensified, bathing the land below it and all who battled upon it in blood. Its harsh ruby glower overpowered the faint glimmer of starlight, chasing its accompaniment into hiding in the black curtain of night, its intensification correlating with the strength of the magic being called from the dark deity that purportedly resided within its construct.
The darkness of night crashed into being once more moments before another spell flew, the small girl throwing her hands forward with a smile turning soft lips even as the most powerful lightning Cloud had ever seen, its power and sheen putting the most mastered expulsion of a Bolt 3 materia to shame, leapt from her fingertips. It was instantly answered with yet another Shell to scatter it, then rebuked with a column of sharp ice shards flung errantly in her direction.
The ice shards, each the length of a man's height and sharper than any manmade weapon, were scattered by a swiftly cast Flare that pulverized them. Tiny rivets of fire accompanied shattered icicle shrapnel to litter the ground, the hissing and clattering an odd orchestral music to balance the roars and screams and metallic clangs of battle.
Cloud's skin burned as tiny embers hotter than any he'd ever been touched with before lightly brushed his bodyand as miniscule slivers of ice punched into his flesh. He couldn't let it slow him, though – Sephiroth's pressed attack, still mired with the impressive strength he'd unleashed with at the commencement of their spar, refused to relent.
Emerald irises were also focused on the combatants above.
Cloud shuddered as he watched his opponent assess the situation between the Sorcerer and Jenova, preparing himself to alter his fighting tactics from self defense to offensive in order to interject himself between the silver-haired General and Squall if necessary.
As he swung his huge and massive weapon, Sephiroth easily deflecting the blow that raced for his head with a casual smirk and only the slightest tightening of his grin reflecting any exertion, a cry rang through the night from above.
Twisting their weapons to lock them, both Sephiroth and Cloud turned their eyes towards the tops of the spires that leapt from the lake's bottom.
Her wings folded, the girl who housed Jenova shuddered as the remains of a fiery spell licked over her pure white feathers. Across from her, his hand faltering as it was held towards her, the mystic glow of his recently cast spell fading away, Squall let his rigid stance falter as sorrow flickered across his face and his bond with his Knight.
That sorrow was quickly transmuted into panic as white wings suddenly spread and flapped.
The girl's body was swiftly taken airborne by powerful downward strokes, massive soft white wings pounding against the still night air to give her lift. Her left arm thrust forward, the impressive bracer that hugged her forearm with its intricately designed pinwheel was finally brought forth to be fully displayed.
Her right hand slapped itself onto the trigger built into that bracer.
Squall barely had time to step back and heft himself out of the way of the projected weapon.
All eight white metal angels' wings, their edges razor sharp and strong, made the air sing as they spun towards their target. The circular projectile barely missed its target, ringing sharply as it collided with the hard earth the spire he stood upon was crafted of.
Cloud's moment of relief that his Sorcerer had dodged the oncoming physical attack was brought to an end before it could fully manifest.
As if she had expected Squall to avoid her attack, Jenova had instantly altered her tactic – her hands were flung forward, her fingers spread, a white glow sparkling upon her manicured fingernails.
A Tornado rocketed into being, forming on the pinwheel itself and ripping the atmosphere asunder even as it demolished the spire the metal ring of angel wings was caught on.
There was no opportunity for Squall to dodge the spell in time, nor for him to raise any magical defense.
Silver feathers flew through the night, ripped clean from splayed wings by murderously fast winds. The bloodied light of the moon danced with the pure white glow of Jenova's stolen body's wings along gunmetal surfaces, twinkling like the hidden stars as those battered feathers spun through the air.
Cloud's worry crested into sheer terror as Sephiroth came at him, the ferocity of his attack focused to push him aside rather than to kill him, his objected changed from decimating Cloud to intercepting the Sorcerer who'd been shoved from his post by the murderously powerful winds of Jenova's spell. Cloud's feet rapidly backpedaled on the uncertain surface below them until he finally slipped on something hard and slippery that smelled like seared fish – the carcass of a dead trout squished under his shoe as he fell backwards, his back slamming onto the ground and his breath forced from his lungs.
Sephiroth leapt right over him, the green simmer of Jenova's taint folding itself over him even as the singular black wing granted to him by antiquated experimentation sprang into reality and flapped once.
Cloud rolled onto his stomach and threw the remains of the fish he'd stepped on with surprising accuracy.
As it collided solidly with Sephiroth's head and temporarily diverted his attention, Cloud managed to get one foot underneath his body and launched himself back at Jenova's protector.
This time, Caladbolg finally struck.
Black feathers joined the dance of stray filaments in the night air, accompanied by wildly flung droplets of ruby red blood and flickers of simmering poisonous green energy.
As he collided with the ground, his lack of grace amazingly short-lived, Sephiroth rolled handily back to his feet and turned, Masamune swinging before Cloud could revert to defence and lift his heavy sword into the elongated katana's path.
Cloud fell back, his ankle turning as he attempted to stumble back out of Masamune's range and failed.
He laid for a second on the ground, gasping wildly for breath into lungs help captive behind wounded, aching ribs that lay under newly sliced flesh. He felt the heat of his own blood running in rivets over his body, seeping not only from the earlier strike that sliced his side but now from the impressive line cut across his chest.
The Knight barely managed to regain his cognizance of reality in time to roll out of the way of the stabbing sword that raced for his heart.
Cloud tumbled across the uneven ground, rocks digging into his flesh as he tried desperately to gain a semblance of distance between himself and his opponent and get back to his feet. Sephiroth, however, was determined to make that task impossible.
Suddenly Sephiroth's voice touched Cloud's ears, a shout of surprise muffled by a blockade.
Staggering to his feet, Cloud stared at the huge earthen wall that had erupted into being between them. His first instinct was to look to his Sorcerer.
The bond between them was lacking in focus towards Cloud, instead being driven entirely towards self-defense and the curious operation of wings. Indeed, as mako-lit eyes peered into the heavens they managed a glimpse of silver and white high above, the tattered gunmetal torn by wind and magic beating heavily and poignantly to keep the Sorcerer aloft and evenly faced with the alien monster in the Sorceress body, white flapping almost effortlessly to bear their slender load. The two flew rapidly and chaotically, their flight much like that of dueling birds of prey attempting to drive one another from the sky as they attempted to line the other into the range and area of effect of a planned spell.
Cloud's attention was taken from the dueling angels in the sky as the sound of Masamune slicing into the earthen wall that segregated them met his ears.
"Way to waste a wall, Cloudster!" Selphie shouted from the top of the peninsula she and the other SeeDs still occupied, her Strange Vision flail being waved above her head in mock rage.
He would have liked to have responded to her. However, the moment he dared to open his mouth was the very moment the wall before him crumbled and he was once again lifting Caladbolg in a desperate vie for his life.
The moon's bloodied light intensified even as Cloud managed to lock hilts with Sephiroth once more, the two of them snarling in one another's faces, Sephiroth pushing Cloud down with his superior height and strength and Cloud trying his damnedest not to let his knees buckle and send him careening to the ground.
Glaring into emerald eyes that shone with Jenova's acrid power, Cloud allowed himself only a second's glance towards the sky.
That second disturbed him so much that he was overcome, his focus completely taken from his own battle.
Even as he was pushed so sharply down by Sephiroth that he cried out and fell back, the SOLDIER General catching him on his chest, the toe of his boot digging into the deep wound he'd sliced earlier into the blond's flesh, Cloud rolled and tried desperately to wrench his attention from the battle above.
The pair, still whirling with maddening speed and impossible agility, were foregoing lining one another up – they had fallen to physical battle even as they pulled power from the moon's dark deity.
The moon was responding to their call, its continence larger and more brilliant than ever before, the red that pooled upon its ivory surface so intense as to put the most ruby of roses to shame. Blood tears burst from the heaven's crimson eye, draining from the orb's surface in long streams.
"Holy shit!" Cloud faintly heard Zell's voice scream from the peninsula above, followed by a rapid order for Irvine to "hurry up and do something."
While he didn't catch the sniper's words, he was able to catch a glimpse of the man, crouched patiently at the edge of the peninsula, his gun held to his shoulder, its barrel not pointed at a target at that moment as he watched the battle above.
The moon's weeping made the planet itself seem to shudder, the ground rumbling ominously below Cloud's body.
Shoving himself rapidly to his feet, he sprang from his position, his hand slapping the ground and his arm bending to send him into a controlled roll as Sephiroth swung in for the sudden kill. Sliding neatly below the murderous swing of Masamune, Cloud regained his feet and swung on his heel, holding his weapon before himself once more.
The streams of light that poured from the moon lit the area as brilliantly as the sun would, the odd backdrop of night and black combined with red and white and the roaring oranges of fire making it a haunting parody of day.
Sephiroth flew in towards Cloud, his wounded wing managing one quick sweep through the humming air to propel himself with superhuman speed to his opponent. Cloud swiftly leapt backwards, his footing careful and precise, dancing over the ground before springing off the side of the huge mound that lay at the center of the pit that once was Obel Lake. Even as his foot scrapped hardened mud from the ruby-colored dragon's corpse, he launched himself up and vaulted backwards.
One of the stone he'd held in his pocket, a single sample of the round orbs Squall had purchased from the man he'd called 'Joker' and given to his Knight, bounded onto the dragon's corpse and rolled down to the ground, coming to a rest right by Cloud's freshly landed foot.
Picking it up, he stared at it for a moment before hurling it with deadly force as the SOLDIER General that was leaping over the red draconic corpse to engage him.
As it collided with Sephiroth, it shattered.
And Cloud instantly regretted his action.
A yellow aura of energy spread over the silver-haired man's body, an angel's glow encasing him as he drew Masamune back.
Before Cloud had time to respond, he was on the receiving end of an Octaslash.
He didn't even have an opportunity to register every separate blow – it was a conglomerate of pain and agony, his entire body suddenly burning with fire and searing wounds, blood bursting from sliced skin to slick his flesh and his surroundings. He slammed into the ground, bouncing once to receive the final blows of the devastating attack before he rolled limply away, his momentum carrying him more than any desire to escape.
As Cloud laid twitching in the mud, his body wracked with excruciating burning as it leaked crimson rivers into the earth, he faintly heard the strong voice of Quistis from above – she was shouting a single word.
"Dispel."
Cloud managed to grip his sword and bring it up, barely deflecting Masamune's point from skewering him completely, sending it skittering along Caladbolg's length and into the hardening earth instead.
His eyes narrowed as he looked at the form of his opponent, no longer surrounded with that odd golden aura but looming and omnipresent all the same.
Cloud realized at that moment that he had no way to defend himself. He had no means of reacting quickly enough to the next inevitable attack to save his own life.
The scream of Jenova's stolen voice was his deliverer.
As Sephiroth turned his head sharply to stare into the sky, Cloud squirmed away and rolled behind the remnants of the spire Squall had previously occupied before the Tornado had reduced it to rubble. There he dug through his pockets with desperate speed.
He remembered what Squall had asked for.
Curagas and Auras.
And while Cloud had no real clue what an Aura was, other than the fact that an Aura is likely what he'd smashed Sephiroth in the face with and inadvertently driven him to have the strength and adrenaline-rush required to pulverize him with his limit break, he could readily guess what a Curaga was. He was willing to bet it was something along the lines of a Cure1, if not a Cure2.
He nearly grinned as his fingers folded over the hard, marble-sized orbs in his pocket. Yanking a handful, he stared.
He had three light pink orbs in his hand.
Cloud figured they had to be the Curagas he'd heard Squall request – the orb he'd blessed his enemy with had been yellow, after all, and given that Sephiroth's wing still dribbled blood and hung fairly limply when not in use he'd not been granted any healing.
Quickly crushing one of the orbs in his hand and rubbing the powder over himself, he nearly let an audible sigh of relief wash over him as he felt the tingle of magic flow through his tattered skin and battered flesh.
He wasn't able to enjoy the sensation of mystic healing for long – Cloud was driven back onto the defensive as Sephiroth ripped his attention from above and returned his attack to Cloud.
Jenova's body had been assaulted by a horribly powerful spell that had drawn a blast of air, not nearly as devastating as the mighty Tornado that she'd used to attempt to demolish her opponent - this spell's focus seemed more to be to drive her from the sky rather than to kill her outright. Nearly thrown from the sky, the alien monster had let her newly acquired vocal chords cry out with indignant shock that could have easily been interpreted as panic or fright to any who didn't know the truth behind the young woman's flesh.
Once she'd turned and unfurled her wings, catching herself and lifting herself high with the night's winds once more before colliding with the ground, Sephiroth allowed her to return to her battle and instead redoubled his efforts on his own.
Gridlocked with one another once more, Cloud snarled. "You'll never win," he hissed through clenched teeth.
A mocking smirk twisted Sephiroth's lips. "You can not hope to triumph, Cloud. Jenova has learned to harness the might of this planet's ultimate strength. Her divinity is nearly completely restored."
"Nearly!" Cloud bit. "So not at all! She only holds a portion of the moon deity's power."
"And to complete it, all she must do is slay the boy. For he holds the last vestiges of the power that frame once contained," the silver-haired General breathed with a sneer.
As Cloud struggled in vain against Sephiroth, the taller man let his sneer fade into a nearly pleasant smile. "I had made a mistake. I'd thought that the vessel itself would still contain the power it had displayed when defending itself from me. That the energies Mother whispered were within her would stay even upon death – I had not anticipated the transfusion of powers from the dying to another living vessel.
"If I had realized that such a maneuver were possible, perhaps I would have slain them both at that moment – with my body the only remaining vessel available for their might, I would have garnered their might – I would have become this world's new God."
"In your dreams," Cloud crossly snarled, his quip strained and short as he snapped his statement out with a short exhalation of breath.
"Indeed, in my dreams," his opponent softly growled. "But in this fashion, so shall our Mother be complete. She will be restored, her new body able to house and channel both her and the ancient magics of this world. When she takes the portion of power the girl who'd occupied that body had thrust away from Mother, she will be whole – no, she'll be better than whole. She'll be more powerful than she was when she collided with your world."
Without enough breath to respond, Cloud could only glower angrily at Sephiroth.
It all made sense. Odd, disjointed, but clear sense.
The fragments of Jenova, torn asunder and scattered, had found a means to be completely restored. Away from the Lifestream that overpowered them and threatened to absorb them, from that very Lifestream she had sought to assimilate when she'd originally been drawn to the planet, she had found power that rivaled that she would have had upon Cloud's Planet's consumption.
"And when she is complete, so shall we be, Cloud. With her in our veins, with her before us, with her holding the power of this world's moon and magic, we will have Reunion – we will become one with her and join her divinity."
"No!" Cloud gasped, his feet sliding along the ground as he tried to push against his taller, stronger opponent.
"She will take you, Cloud. Just as she will take me. As she takes those who are of her – her son, her son's puppet. Accept it and cease your defense of the carcass who holds her power from her grasp."
Cloud roared as he launched himself with every ounce of strength he had in his body against Masamune.
Taken aback, Sephiroth staggered backwards, very nearly losing his footing and having to leap away from Cloud. A sweep of Masamune to counteract the flap of an outstretched wing to maintain balance made a cacophony of racket on top of the roars, screams and explosions of the night.
Finally having the offensive, Cloud wasted no time in crashing against his opponent once again.
Skillfully deflecting swing after swing, Sephiroth's arrogant smile melted into a grimace of consternation laced with determination and the onset of weariness.
His emerald cat eyes narrowed as he glared at Cloud, mako blue exhausted beyond measure but burning with resolve and purpose.
Cloud had come to realize one simple truth – if he could keep Sephiroth from reaching the Sorcerer, Squall had more than a fighting chance of making it through the night.
As Sephiroth had professed, Jenova's power was incomplete – the vessel she'd chosen was indeed a perfect conduit for the moon's might and the world's magic, capable of channeling power beyond anything possessed by human beings and amplifying the energies that passed through her body beyond measure. But the vessel was incomplete – only the ability to channel, a smattering of spells and the amplifying effects were present.
Squall held the lion's share of spells. He also had significantly more control, able to cast spells without a focal target, crafting the ice of his deadly spells into movable, controllable rivets that answered his beck and call. He had the defensive spells and the status magic.
His wings were also more solid – the more vast well of power that danced within his body lent them strength and presense.
While airborne, Jenova could manage with nothing more than the overpowered Tornado she'd had on display earlier. The deadly Flares she had used earlier seemed lost to her, and her attempt to cast an Ultima was slow and halted, easily interrupted by her opponent. Squall on the other hand could use any spell of his choosing while either stationary or airborne, the wings that carried him requiring no effort to maintain present and operating.
Rinoa had very nearly succeeded in keeping all of her power out of Jenova's hands – Cloud found himself wishing in a stray second that she had.
With his clear advantages in the battle, his deity-granted might being the pull that was drawing the moon's blood tears through space when he called upon it for power, he could clearly stand his own against the alien invader who'd infested the corpse of his beloved.
If he managed to find the compulsion to put his fiancé to eternal peace, he'd win.
That compulsion was all Cloud was terrified of.
He knew just by observing the battle, by observing Sephiroth's reactions, that Jenova couldn't win on her own. She needed to complete her power. She needed to become whole. She needed to kill Squall and absorb that which the girl who's soul once occupied that body had transferred to her love. But he also knew that Squall was terrified of the notion of murdering the young woman once again.
His distraction made him vulnerable.
And Sephiroth recognized that vulnerability.
Redoubling his efforts, Sephiroth planted his feet hard into the ground and retained his position as Cloud shoved against him with all fo his strength.
In a sudden turn of events, the SOLDIER General pressed against Cloud, shoving him away and giving himself the opportunity he needed to escape his battle against the Knight and take it to the Sorcerer.
Sephiroth had realized all that Cloud had concluded. He knew Jenova couldn't face the Sorcerer on her own.
And he knew the purpose he had as her sword, her weapon, her hand directed by her whim – he was to carry out her dreadful tasking for her, to see her complete, to bring both of them – all of them – to their glorious Reunion.
The one-winged beast launched himself straight up, his singular black wing unfurled and beating heavily as he leapt for the battling angels above with every ounce of mako-granted strength and Jenova's cellular power that he possessed.
Cloud readily pursued.
Squall wasn't paying attention to the two of them – he had his hands full deflecting spells cast wildly by Jenova while attempting to dodge swooping attacks that threatened to disarm or wound him with a simple knife she'd managed to attain while possessing Rinoa's corpse.
Springing desperately from chunk of rubble to side of peninsula, Cloud attempted to get as much upward motion as swiftly as possible. He reached desperately for his opponent, lagging just far enough behind that he couldn't intercept him.
Cloud screamed, his voice tainted with hate and fury, with fear and panic was he hurtled with every shred of speed he possessed after Sephiroth. Frustration filled him and colored his voice as he watched time slow to a veritable crawl before his eyes.
The two angels swung low, nearly colliding with the pursuant General and the Knight.
Murderous white light filled the atmosphere, pouring from glistening white wings and reflecting off mirror-like gunmetal.
The explosion that filled Cloud's senses wasn't the blast of magic – it was the ringing of Exeter reverberating through the night as Irvine finally acted, his sniper eyes seeing his opportunity and his lightning-quick reflexes touching the trigger before anything else could register.
Cloud's eyes widened as red splashed across his vision and his ears were finally embraced in absolute silence.
-to be concluded-
raerobdestiny: Thanks for reviewing! I updated as quickly as I could. :) Hope you like the newest chapter! And yup, Jenova. Which was fun as heck to write. :P I'm just praying that I got this chapter right!
