His shadows had returned. Sort of. Nero had to be careful how often and how much he did with them. Summoning and manipulating Darkness was draining in a way it hadn't been before. Shalua thought that he would build up his magical strength again in time. Nero certainly hoped so. With the return of his powers, however, had come the voice inside his head.
'Your gifts have a unique purpose,' Omega insisted. 'The Void is not meant to be a toy. You must learn to harness it to fulfill your true calling.'
'And what if I don't want to?' Nero thought back. 'The Cetra are extinct and so's their stupid religion. All that's left is a bunch of junk at the bottom of an underground mako well.'
Omega grumbled, indignant, but did not rebuke him. 'Mortals have indeed forgotten the ancient ways,' he agreed. 'You have unraveled many of nature's mysteries, yet no one can fathom completely the secrets of Life and Death.'
'I'm not interested in being an undertaker.'
Omega seemed amused at this. 'No indeed, yet I have chosen you, Nero Vincent, son of Valentine. Preparing a body for its final journey is only one small facet of your duty.'
'I didn't ask for this,' Nero mentally grumbled. 'I didn't want to be saved…'
'And now?'
Nero did not have an answer for that. At the time, he'd been so stricken with grief, so sick with despair, that his only thought had been to follow his family into the unknown. Vincent had rescued him, had brought him the Omega materia to save his life. They stood on even ground, and Nero was beginning to see why Vincent wanted him around. Nero did not want to seem ungrateful, but even now there were times when he wished that he had never been found.
'Do not discard the affection of others so easily,' Omega admonished gently. 'Your sun family would be deeply grieved by your loss. Does not your father love you? Does not your stepfather? What of your mate? Have you not a surviving sister?'
'Max isn't my mate,' Nero insisted, feeling his neck grow warm. 'I know, I know. My life is not my own, what I did was selfish and stupid. There are people still standing that I hurt. I get it. I do. I just…' He sighed, hugged his knees closer. 'It doesn't make it hurt any less…'
Nero felt the sensation of strong arms around him, flinching before he recognized the gesture for what it was.
'Grief and loss come to all of us, my Shadow Son. As First Born of the Dark, you must walk this path of tears, but you need not be broken by it. It has been granted to you to bring rest and peace to those who seek it; both the living and the dead.'
Sniffling, Nero looked up. 'How?'
It had been almost a year since the Mothers, children, and surviving staff of Deepground had been rescued and brought safe to the surface; since Nero had fused with Omega. All those alive had been safely evacuated to the surface. All those who had not survived the fall of Deepground remained where they lay. There had been some discussion of setting off further explosions, of letting the broken earth and rubble collapse in on itself. No one really wanted to sift through the wreckage for corpses of enemy combatants. This made Vincent angry, but Nero thought the workmen had a fair complaint.
Nero had not visited the crater since his...accident. That was how Vincent referred to it. Now, as the sun set over the gaping wound in the earth, Nero sat atop the excavation scaffolding and tried to think. Ned crept from the deepening shadows and came over to sit beside him. Nero scratched his antennae absently, eliciting a pleased purr.
"I wasn't ready to say goodbye," Nero said softly into the dusk. "I'm still not. I may never be. I know they're not coming back, but…"
'It does not stop the heart from longing,' Omega finished. 'I offer you several thousand years of sympathy.'
"So...say I did it? What would happen to them?"
'Their souls would return to the Planet.'
"What the hell does that even mean?"
He could have sworn Omega was smiling. 'A wise question. Even the most learned of your people could not divine it fully. As an immortal, I can only tell you what I have witnessed. The body returns to the earth, crumbling into soil. The spirit, however, journeys on. The energy, the life spark, returns as that which you call dark mako. There it slumbers until it has become refreshed. The painful memories, the worries and cares, all become separated from the consciousness. The self departs, leaving its energy behind in the form of light mako.'
"What happens to the self?"
'None can say,' Omega intoned, a note of wonder in his eternal voice. 'For none who have joined the stars in the Promised Land have ever returned.'
"It must be nice, then."
'One would assume.'
"Do you think Weiss and Rosso would want to be stars?"
'Do you?'
Nero thought about it. Looking down from the heavens would probably be a decided improvement from lying at the bottom of a pit under a pile of stones. It wasn't just them. A lot of other people lay dead and buried less deliberately down in the crater. He had known most of them. Some of them he had liked, a few had liked him. Suddenly, he didn't want them rotting at the bottom of a hole in the ground.
'You can help them on their journey,' Omega suggested. 'Show them the path through the stars that leads to the Promised Land.'
"...how?"
'Rise. I will instruct you.'
Vincent's office did not have a window. He was perfectly fine with this. Veld's, however, did. Vincent wasn't sure if this was a nod to Veld's status as Chief emeritus or not, but it amused him just the same. Crossing the hall to collect his partner for the evening, he entered the office.
"Just about done," Veld told him, not looking up from his computer. "Just let me send this. Shalua had some suggestions for all the rescues."
"Okay," Vincent agreed since Veld couldn't hear him nod. Absently, he went over to the window and looked out. This side of the building had a decent view of Old Midgar and the massive crater formerly known as Deepground. A dark spot caught his eye. Squinting, he smiled.
"I can see Nero down at the excavation site," he remarked. "How 'bout I get him and you meet us in the lobby?"
"Sure," Veld agreed, still engrossed in his keyboard.
"Ten minutes, Dragoon," Vincent warned, teasing.
"Yeah, yeah," Veld broke stride in his typing long enough to wave him out the door. "Get going. I'll be right down."
It would probably take Veld longer, but that was alright. He knew when to quit for the day. Usually. Crossing the street and ducking around strips of caution tape, Vincent made his way over to the crater. It was a little tricky to pick Nero out of the deepening shadows. He was undergoing orientation for the Turks, and Vincent thought the white shirt and blue suit looked good on Nero. The boy had draped the jacket over the railing and rolled the shirt sleeves to his elbows. He'd been sitting with arms wrapped around his tucked-up knees, his lanky height compacted into a small ball. Vincent watched as Nero stood, his long body telescoping up and up. For a moment he stood still, staring out into the pit. Dim lights like fireflies ghosted around him. Vincent frowned. It was far too early in the season for fireflies.
Nero tilted his head up, seemingly contemplating the stars beginning to wink into existence when a double pair of luminous wings erupted from his back. The fabric of his shirt rippled, but did not tear. Deep indigo feathers, brilliant with their own eerie light drifted loose on the breeze, evaporating into stardust before they touched the ground. Nero held out both arms as if waiting for a hug. Vincent lunged forward with a shout, hand outstretched, knowing he was too far away and too late as Nero stepped off the edge of the platform.
And kept on walking.
Eyes glowing gold, purple-blue wings waving softly behind him, he stepped across the open air until he hung directly above the center of the crater. The wings flapped, pushing him a bit higher into the sky. Hovering in space, Nero leaned and held out one hand, as if reaching to help someone up. Vincent watched, both hands gripping the railing as hundreds upon hundreds of golden pinpricks of light sparked to life from the black depths of the pit. The lights grew slowly larger, and Vincent realized they were rising, coming closer and closer. A swarm, a horde, a positive ocean of pyreflies rose golden and glimmering. An entire fairy court of them filled the air, surrounding Nero who still stretched down with one hand.
Vincent blinked as something seized Nero's hand. The golden dust of the pyreflies sprinkled down, giving it shape, and Vincent realized it was a hand. A hand attached to a thick, muscular arm, that was in turn connected to a stocky body. The phantom of a young man perhaps a handwidth shorter than Nero with a wild thatch of fair hair materialized. Nero stretched out his other hand and a second shade caught it. This one proved to be slimmer, more delicate, and attached to a woman with gentle curves and curly hair.
His throat tightened as Nero somehow collected both his siblings in one arm and held out his hand a third time. This time the hand that took his was nearly double the size. The giant Azul materialized, and leaned to hug all three of them at once. For once, Nero did not balk, didn't flinch, just leaned in and held on. For a long moment all of them stood close, heads pressed together. What they said to each other, Vincent could not begin to guess. After a moment Nero hugged Azul, nearly vanishing in his embrace, then his sister, and finally Weiss. Even as he held on, his brother's spirit began to evaporate, leaving a trail of golden dust that spiraled higher and higher toward the white light of the stars above.
The spell broken, Nero drifted down to the sidewalk, collapsing to hands and knees, wings vanishing in a puff of starlight. Vincent raced back down the scaffolding, falling rather than jumping the last few stairs and skidding to his knees in front of his son.
"Nero!" he cried, grabbing him by both shoulders. "Nero are you okay?!"
Nero grabbed Vincent's shoulder in turn to steady himself, and shook his head to clear it. Stardust scattered from his hair. Tears streaked his face, but underneath, he was smiling. The smile was sad, but it was a smile nonetheless.
"Yeah, I am," he said, pulling his father into a clumsy hug. "Now."
