A/N: Thanks for all the feedback! You are all wonderful.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Chapter 36

Sephiroth couldn't see.

All he was aware of was a voice that sang.

Sometimes he thought it was his own voice, deep and commanding, but then the tune would change and he couldn't remember how such an obviously female, lilting tone could have sounded like his own. Its chorus swirled through him, wrapping around his mind and seeping into his very being.

He had always heard it but the words had never been so clear. He had never understood the true beauty of it, it was so enchanting and the louder the song the more lovely it sounded.

On a soft wave of sighs it offered him vengeance against those who had wronged him. With the song cheering him on, he would bring damnation to the guilty and retribution to the world that had allowed it.

Vincent, weak and apologetic, the shell of a man who chose self-pity over his own son. His death would be swift.

Lucrecia, so blind and selfish she traded her own child for recognition and knowledge, and received neither. Her very memory would be erased.

Hojo, so cruel and ambitious that even Sephiroth had lived in fear of him. No longer. Masamune was sharper than any scalpel. His death would be agonizingly slow.

All of humanity would be brought low before him, and he would judge them for their crimes.

The song grew stronger, its powerful notes echoing with the great justice he would bring.

The world would burn on his order. None would be found worthy and none would be spared.

This was what he wanted.

But then, like a crack in his mind, he thought of Angeal and Genesis. They were human and he cared about them. They were his friends, and they'd guarded his back while he guarded theirs. Since when did he want to hurt them, or even rule them? He didn't want to rule anyone. This was not what he wanted!

Why couldn't he see anything?

The voice wrapped tighter around him. The song filled every corner of his mind and inhabited every thought.

Humanity feared him, rejected him. Just as Genesis had always been jealous, it was because they knew he was superior and he deserved to be lifted above them all. Petty fools and traitors, they hated his strength.

He heard the song of his Mother, his true Mother, and was greater for it. The song was his and he would embrace it.

Everything in this world would burn before him.

This was what he wanted.

Genesis opened his eyes to the endless green of the Fade and knew that he was sleeping.

He stood on the very edge of one of the floating islands, a sheer drop into magical nothingness before him. How had he gotten here? What on Gaia had happened?

He remembered that they had been fighting in the reactor. And then…

Then Hawke had unleashed the sort of firepower that would flatten armies. Sephiroth, or whatever had been controlling Sephiroth, had not only survived it but then proceeded to tear open the Veil itself.

He hadn't thought such a thing was possible. Yet here he was, standing on the edge of a red cliff surrounded by carved white columns.

The purpose of such an attack eluded him. What could Jenova hope to gain here? Hawke had made frequent reference of the tricks demons play in Fade, who could say what an archdemon might be capable of?

They had been separated. Sephiroth could be anywhere, as could Hawke. He resolutely did not worry about that though because she knew the Fade and did not require looking after and the thought that Sephiroth might track them down and finish them off one by one wasn't an idea he could afford to entertain. He needed to find her and together they could decide what was to be done next.

Hawke was the strongest mage. She would have a better understanding of what was happening and how to fix it. Aerith was probably around here as well.

He left the cliff and walked into the forest of pillars. He picked a direction and set a steady pace.

Then he looked up and he was surrounded by Banora White trees. But he'd been walking through pillars hadn't he? They'd been everywhere, the crumbling Fade pillars, just a second ago. He narrowed his eyes at the scenery, trying to figure out what to make of it.

These weren't just any Banora White trees, he knew this grove. He spun slowly, taking in the familiar sight.

It had been a very long time.

This was where he had decided to become a Soldier. Where he had read that short newspaper article on the rising star with the silver hair and had known what he wanted. This was where he had first known that he wanted to be a hero.

The closer he looked though, the more he saw it wasn't quite right. The trees weren't green enough. The leaves were wilting, the fruit rotting. The usually clean white trunks were off coloured, as though being eaten away by disease.

So much for that. Perhaps it was fitting that this place, and what it meant to him, should crumble away.

It was only then that he noticed the complete silence.

He hadn't been able to sleep in days without being nearly deafened by Jenova's cacophonous song. The silence wasn't as comforting as he would have thought, instead it unnerved him.

I didn't think you'd miss me, child.

He drew his sword and swung around in the flash of an eye.

Nothing. He was still alone in the rotting grove. He'd never heard the voice so clearly before. It had only ever been an incomprehensible song whose notes gave vague impressions of things, but never distinct words. He recognized it instinctively though. It sent a shiver down his spine.

Where was she? Would she take a physical form? Did she even have a form? They'd be hard pressed to kill her if she didn't.

Always so aggressive. Why do you insist we are enemies?

"Your degradation would have killed me." He replied, keeping a vigilant eye on his surroundings. "So when I strike you down you may die with the knowledge that you started this."

The voice almost seemed to hum in thought. Then it sighed around him again, soft and sickly sweet.

I have only ever wanted the best for you, little one. I did not know that your form would reject my gift. You are different now; there is so much power I could lavish upon you.

That it had the nerve to speak of the slow and painful death she had sentenced him to so cavalierly, filled him with rage.

"I don't want your gifts or your power." He sneered.

Oh?

The lilting tone turned amused, he heard a smile made of dagger in her voice.

Do you not want to be the Hero of the dawn? I can give you that. With me you would finally supersede your rival; and all the world would know you as the Hero you are.

"I…" He swallowed. For years he'd tried to be at least on par with Sephiroth and never once succeeded. To actually outdo him, to finally be the hero of his own story, it sounded like everything he'd ever dreamed of.

But he remembered meeting Sephiroth's blade in the Reactor, where he had no choice but to defeat him. There he'd realised at long last that he'd didn't want that fight. His pride was not worth the life of his friend.

"He isn't my rival," He said quietly, admitting it to himself more than Jenova. "He's my friend. And I'm here to free him from your clutches. I don't need your help to be the hero."

Ah but no one will ever know…

The whisper sighed in his ear. He spun around again, certain something was behind him but once more he was faced with nothing.

Even if you strike down the wicked monster, the glory will still belong to Sephiroth. Another will be rewarded for your struggles and your victories, as always.

The words burrowed into his head, gnawing on his conviction and resurrecting old fears. The haunting thought of never being seen, no matter what he achieved, rose within him. He shook his head as though he could dislodge his own thoughts but to no avail.

But then he stilled and looked up with realisation.

"Hawke." He said decisively. "Hawke will know." She saw him and that was enough. He didn't need the world.

But what difference will that make, when you will be dead?

"What-"

Do not forget, child, you cannot kill me without killing yourself. If you win such a fight, you will never have her. But why should you have to choose?

The voice was still soft; it's sweetness a sticky poison that he couldn't shake off. He didn't want to hear it. The words wrapped around him, coiling in a knot that drew ever tighter.

I can give you both the woman you so desire, and the glory you have worked so hard for. Let me grant you your prize.

He wanted it. He wanted so much it felt like it was choking him, his will to turn her down crumbling with every moment.

But if he gave in… he'd be a fraud.

He wasn't so far gone that he couldn't see that. Heroism was built on sacrifice, not glory. To betray himself and the very world to that end would be nothing more than a lie.

Could he let the world burn? Could he really watch one of his brothers give their life so that he might keep his happy ending?

What would he give to save the world?

Hawke woke to the smell of baking bread. Oh she loved Orana's cooking.

She opened her eyes, adjusting slowly to the light. It streamed over her, the sharp light of an early Kirkwall morning that flooded in from her opened stained glass windows. Dust motes danced in the rays, fluttering wildly in the soft breeze. The sounds of High Town's streets, busy with servants rushing about to prepare for the day, drifted up to her room. She sighed contentedly at the familiarity of it all.

She rolled onto her back and stretched luxuriously, a lazy smile splitting her face. She looked sideways, taking in the familiar furniture of her bedroom. The old armoire, full to bursting with her armour and leathers. The fireplace that she always lit with magic and then pretended she hadn't.

She didn't know why but the sight made her smile all the more.

She rose to her feet, feeling light aches and pains from whatever she'd been up to yesterday. Probably killing stuff. Giant spiders maybe?

Her tattered old dressing gown was flung over the chest of drawers; she picked it up and draped it over her shoulders. It was so comfortable. She loved this dressing gown.

Feeling like she should be whistling a jaunty tune she flung open her bedroom door and strolled out uncaring that she was barely dressed.

"Good morning house!" She called in a sing-song voice, barely expecting anyone to hear her.

"Morning Hawke!" a chorus of yells called back from the lower level. A vibrant smile lit up her face at the sound of it. Leaning over the balcony she saw quite the crowd, all looking back up at her expectantly.

"And what are you nutcases all doing in my house?" she asked, grinning widely.

"Waiting for you, obviously." said Fenris. Hawke just winked at the grumpy elf who wasn't really all that grumpy and made her way down the stairs.

Aveline was standing right at the last step, her silver and orange armour as immaculately polished as always. Her arms were crossed in that 'I'm not about to hit you but I am considering it' posture she carried so well. Hawke found herself suppressing the most unusual desire to hug the woman.

"Hawke." She said with a faint smile "I hope you've been behaving well."

"I've been feeling very well." She responded, giving her most winning smile.

"That's not quite the same thing. For you at least they're practically opposites."

"Oh Aveline," she sighed dramatically, "Why are you always so determined to think the worst of me?"

"Why are you always so determined to prove me right?" she replied, laughter leaking into her voice.

"I should hate to appear inconsistent."

"I'm pretty sure that's the least of your problems." A male voice said from behind Aveline. Hawke recognized it, but it hadn't been so deep last time she'd heard it. Aveline moved aside and it was all she could do to not gape like fish.

"Carver…" she said dumbly.

"Hey sister." He replied.

She rushed forward, wrapping him up in a clinging hug. He took a step back at the unexpected assault, than slowly returned the hug, a cautious smile on his face.

After a moment she pulled back, suddenly looking embarrassed about her reaction.

"Uh, I mean… Hey." She said.

He chuckled softly. His face was older, more rugged, carrying more scars and more beard than she remembered. He wore the Grey Warden armour well and with pride. He was also smiling, and it was more sincere than she had ever seen him.

"He's turned into quite the charmer, hasn't he?" Isabella said, sidling up next to him from wherever she'd been hiding.

"'Bella!" Hawke exclaimed, smiling madly at the woman. She didn't why she was suddenly so thrilled to see everyone; she was in a simply smashing mood this morning.

"Do I get a hug too?" The pirate asked with a saucy wink.

"Oh, I'd like a hug!" called Merrill. She hadn't seen her at first, but there she was smiling by the writing desk.

"Alright, enough of that." said Aveline, her tone fond but with the iron ring to it that had gotten Hawke marching all over the wounded coast many a time. "We are actually here for a reason. Get your armour on and we can get to work. They're counting on us."

"I… yes of course." She said. Something a little jarring had just hit her. She hadn't expected to go fighting with Aveline, or any of them. But that was ridiculous, this was what she did, what she loved. "I'll just… be along in a minute." Was there was something else? What was wrong?

"Well off you go then." Aveline said at her obvious hesitation, the reprimanding look that Hawke knew so well making its way across her face. "Don't you want to come fighting with us?"

"Of course I do, what else would I be doing?" she said, sounding unsure.

"Come on precious." said Isabella, with a relaxed smile, "I'm shouting drinks afterwards."

"What are you waiting for, lethallan?" asked Merrill. Her head was tilted and her eyes held the curious glint that had often convinced her to spend hours explaining things to the elven girl who had become like a sister. Her smile was so genuine and full of affection and Hawke smiled back.

Aveline said she ought to. She always claimed not to take orders from Aveline, but they all knew she did anyway. She was her oldest friend, and besides, Aveline was kind of terrifying. She couldn't bear the look of disappointment that was slowly creeping into her eyes.

"I didn't think you'd be so lazy sister." said Carver, crossing his arms and looking so very dashing and competent in his Warden armour. "The darkspawn don't kill themselves, you know."

"Neither do the slavers." Fenris said, also crossing his arms and giving her a look that very clearly asked 'what are you waiting for?' "The longer we wait the more damage they'll do."

"Hurry it up Hawke." said Varric, holding his beloved crossbow over his shoulder. "I've got us a job lined up and it won't wait forever. You aren't going to believe what they found in Dark town."

"Varric…" she said dumbly, a wide smile splitting her face. Varric was here. There was nothing wrong. It was all going to be alright, she had her trusty Dwarf by her side, they could face anything. This was just right.

"What did they find in Dark town?" She asked, an action-starved smile lighting her entire face.

A brief flash of something lit through her mind for an instant. She looked around at the assembled crowd, looking for a face that danced just out of memory.

"Wait, Hang on," she said, her brow furrowing in thought. "Isn't there someone else? Where's… uh, hmm." There was definitely someone missing. She did a head count. Weren't they down one?

"Got an imaginary friend you want to tell us about?" Varric asked, looking amused.

There was a light laugh from the top of the stairs. Hawke froze. Then she spun around and didn't know why she was so shocked to see her Mother standing there because nothing could be more fitting. Leandra smiled down at her and slowly walked down the stairs, as stately and dignified as ever. Something about it was oddly surreal.

"Good morning dear." She said, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

"Morning mother." She responded, wondering if she was about to be reprimanded for wearing what was technically sleepwear in front of guests. She could practically feel everyone behind her rearranging themselves to be just a little more proper. It had always made her laugh to see Varric and even Isabella suddenly shifting to cover their chests a little more when Leandra was around.

No matter how irreverent they were, everyone was polite to her Mother. It was simply how it was done.

But something was off. In her mother's presence the nagging in her head was somehow so much worse. A creeping feeling of uneasy grew and she wanted to take a step back. In the wake of old pressures to take care of everyone, she wanted to say it was nothing. But why did she feel so guilty, just looking at her?

Did she smell lilies?

No, of course not. Her mother didn't like lilies. Where did that come from?

"Are you going out adventuring with your friends again?" Her Mother asked, smiling pleasantly at them all. "I'll be here when you get back."

"Of course." Hawke said, but she couldn't take her eyes from Leandra. Something was sticking in her mind and she needed to know what was so wrong.

"This is what you want." Leandra said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Wait just a damn moment, nobody got to tell her what she wanted. Especially not her Mother.

She already knew what she wanted, she'd decided, hadn't she? She wanted…

Her memory flickered, and she staggered back, wrenching herself away from everyone. It suddenly felt so crowded, like she was hedged in.

There was someone she was missing, she was certain of it. Someone very important. She sifted through her thoughts and suddenly noticing the gaping holes in her memory that should not have been there.

She focused on that someone, the missing someone who she knew was important. Using all her will power she stripped away whatever was trying to grip her thoughts. The vague image of red hair hovered in her mind's eye.

Red hair and glowing blue eyes. But where did that fit in with all this?

She concentrated on that image, fixing the glowing blue in her mind. But then she saw the blue spread, a cracking glow that breaks the skin and claims the mind, power that will not be denied power that demands Justice...

She gasped and it all came flooding back.

"Anders." She choked, struck by the memory and realisation.

The Chantry.

The Gallows.

The Lyrium Sword.

She looked at the people around her, her family, smiling so affectionately.

"You're all dead" she whispered.

With that knowledge the image around her wavered, a cold wind typical of the Fade blew in and like dust it all collapsed. The old mansion, proud Kirkwall architecture, gave way to show swirling green.

She wasn't lounging in a dressing gown in the safety of her home. She was in well-worn armour and she did not have a home.

Before her eyes her oldest, dearest friends faded away. Receding like shadows into the ground, their lively colours bleeding into inky blackness that simply melted away. Aveline, Fenris, Isabella, Merrill, then Carver. The bold Warden crest crumbled before her eyes.

Varric was the last to disappear, his roguish smile and charming wink heart rending as it evaporated into the fabric of the Fade.

Gone. They were all gone. She was alone.

She closed her eyes to stop the moisture in her eyes from falling.

"Of course you are alone." A cruel voice said sweetly behind her.

Hawke spun around. Her Mother still stood, as grand and proper as always. But now she wasn't the gentle woman she'd been in life, this was a twisted shadow with cruelty lighting its smile and triumph in its eyes. The Fade around her hummed with corrupted power, the air practically shaking with its strength.

"This is your Fate, little one." She continued, "To watch those around you fall."

"Shut up demon." Hawke spat, "You are not her. You are not worthy of her face."

The woman who was not Leandra laughed, a sharp and biting thing. With that biting laugh still echoing she evaporated into the air. Behind where she had been standing Hawke saw Genesis, standing on the edge of the clearing and watching her with pity and confusion in his eyes.

She felt hands on her shoulders and a whisper in her ear.

"And you will watch him fall to me, just as you watched all the others."

Hawke lashed out, she spun and sliced through where the thing in her mother's form had been standing. Her blade passed through nothing though, the vision disintegrating and black tendrils of corrupt magic slinking back into the ground.

Tainted magic washed over the area and she was left feeling hollow and broken.

Later she and Genesis were walking silently through endless broken pillars. Hawke was not in the mood for discussion and he respected that. Despite looking curiously at her a couple of times, he wisely refrained from asking about the illusion she had been caught in. Had she not still been reeling from it she would have been very grateful.

Bloody demons.

They needed to focus on the matter at hand. Jenova was here and playing far more underhanded tricks then either had expected.

She tried to shake off the shadows that had been resurrected in her mind. She had thought she was stronger than this, or that she had at least come to terms with it. Having it all thrown in her face again was not something she had been prepared for.

She glanced briefly at Genesis beside her, his gait the mixture of confidence and caution that she knew so well now. He looked at her questioningly but she just shook her head and continued walking.

Sephiroth had fallen already. That left only one Soldier to make the sacrifice.

She wasn't going to think about it. They needed to focus on situation at hand, they could fret later. Except it was later now, and she was running out of other things to think about. Dammit, why did it have to come down to this? Was it truly her fate to outlive everyone she cared about?

She dedicated a long and impressive string of curses to Jenova and all her kind.

As they walked the scenery changed around them. At first they had been surrounded by broken pillars, each of which supported nothing and broke off at different heights as though simply crumbling away. Though it had been hard to see they'd been covered in strange carvings. Foreign letters and indecipherable glyphs adorned them all in weathered low relief. The further they walked, a black ichor had crept over the columns, seeping up out of the ground and distorting the glyphs. Eventually there was nothing left of the gleaming white stone and even the muddy red ground could barely be seen. The slick sinewy substance covered everything and held fast. It oozed corrupt magic.

It felt like something was watching them. The further they went the stronger the feeling became.

The sticky black strands snaking across the pillars hummed with a magic that had her skin crawling. Her staff was a steady comfort in her hand. Genesis held his sword and kept a narrowed eye on their surroundings.

Eventually he broke the silence.

"Do you know what happened, back in the Reactor? Or where we're going?" he asked plainly.

"I have no idea. To both of those questions." She replied.

"Well, aren't you useful." He said dryly.

She barely understood what had happened to send them here. The Archdemon in current possession of Sephiroth had torn the Veil a new one; that much she knew. Raw magic had come pouring in from everywhere as the Fade basically threw up on them. She'd felt her body collapse on the reactor floor and her mind had entered the Fade under the huge rush of mana. That she'd felt herself fall meant he hadn't physically broken the Veil, just sort of… dented it for a moment. Probably.

She wasn't sure that physically damaging the Veil was even possible but it sounded like the sort of madness that would seriously ruin a picnic, so technically this was not the worst damn thing that could have possibly happened.

So that was nice.

Except now they were all trapped in Jenova's territory and completely vulnerable to whatever the Archdemon deigned to throw at them. Given the way Genesis was acting she suspected he had been confronted by her once already. He didn't mention it and she didn't ask.

The feeling that they were being watched grew stronger but they saw nothing.

"Hawke." Genesis said sombrely after a time. "Is there any hope for Sephiroth?"

She didn't answer for a moment. What could she say? Could there be any return for someone who had already given in to the calling?

"I don't know." She replied, as honestly as she could. There might still be hope. Anders had recovered from Corypheus' call, even if only to fall to another's.

Around them the black ichor grew stronger. It started to string from pillar to pillar overhead and around them. Eventually it was so thick that it completely blocked out the molten green of the Fade and left them in strangely luminescent tunnels. The sticky fibres twitched and spread themselves out in dense webbing that grew before their very eyes.

Hawke kept looking over her shoulder and seeing the black tendrils flicking and rearranging themselves in their wake. The route seemed to change at random, the tunnels forking on occasion but always leading in the same direction.

"Hang on," she suddenly halted. "Have you seen Aerith? We need to find her; she's completely vulnerable here."

"Vulnerable how? Doesn't one simply wake up if killed in a dream?" he asked, stopping as well. "And aren't Cetra all the more powerful in the Fade?"

"Yes, but she's not a warrior, not even here. You or I would just wake up if killed but she's a Dreamer, a Somniari. If she's killed in the Fade she'll be made Tranquil." She ran an agitated hand through her hair, refusing to imagine the sweet and lively Aerith reduced to the emotionless husk of a Tranquil. She would give anything to stop that from happening. Genesis just looked at her in confusion so she elaborated.

"Her connection to the Fade would be cut; with it she'd lose the ability to feel any emotion. It'd break her mind, Genesis."

He looked sickened that such a thing was possible.

"Then we won't let that happen." He said grimly. He looked back to their surroundings "Are we headed in the right direction? Is there any way to know?"

She shrugged.

As though there was any alternative route. The black webbing had cut off their return. There was only one path left to them, into the heart of the corruption.

This had gone on long enough. It was time to slay the monster.

A/N: So for clarification, think less Adamant for DA:I, more the Sloth demon from DA:O. Anyway, thanks for reading! Reviews are not required but are greatly appreciated.

Next Time: The Eleventh Hour