Chapter 14: Can You Hear the Cry of the Planet?


Cosmos Canyon was an arid desert area of burning sunset-colored rocks and a ragged cliff terrain that, in the distance, rose higher into shadowy mountains. A bloody sunset flooded the sky over the canyon on that afternoon, running into the pale blue canopy in red streams. On a terrace overlooking a precipice sat a shadowy figure, black against the flaring horizon. It was Cloud. He sat silently on a projecting rock, gazing into the distance. His face was white and drawn, his blue eyes dim in the shadows, and he was perspiring softly and occasionally passing a hand over his forehead, as if he was laboring under great fatigue. His destination—a town nestled at the feet of the canyon— was just a few hours' walk away. But after that wearying afternoon's march he wanted to rest, just for a moment, and discovered that he could not rise to his feet again.

After a while he fished a golden globe from his pocket with a slow, tired movement. It shone like a jewel in the dying light, and he passed his fingers over the smooth surface, as if seeking comfort from its tiny, flickering glow. He had already used it once that afternoon, and he struggled with the compulsion to use it again. The efficacy of its remedy seemed to dwindle over time, and he found himself using it more often than he should during the last phase of his travels, exhausting his body to the limit. As time passed he had felt the growing shadow within him expanding, strengthening, sending questing tendrils into his mind, seeking to supplant it with its own essence. It was a familiar experience by that point, and he always pushed back on it, forcing it to retreat, the light of the golden materia casting a shimmering net that barred the shadow from reaching out. But, like an octopus withdrawing its tentacles, the presence crouched in the shadowy recesses of his mind; its core growing little by little every day, after every attempted invasion, awaiting the opportunity to expand its territory until it once again completed its conquest. Outside of his own will, that shining little globe of artificial mako that Aerith had given him was Cloud's only lifeline to rescue him from drowning in that dark pool of unconscious thought, where another entity usurped his will and smothered his mind into submission.

It was always more difficult to resist it when the night embraced the world with its terrifying, whispering shadows. And even though his destination, the canyon town, was virtually within his reach, he was no longer sure that he would arrive to it on time before his mind was engulfed.

He dropped his head into his hands. "Just one more night," he muttered, rubbing his fingers against his brow. "I have to hold it off just one more night. And then I can meet her, and she will help me to resist it, like she promised."

And what, said an inner voice, if she hasn't arrived yet? What will you do then?

Cloud surveyed the canyon, now swathed in a pool of blackness. Maybe, he thought, he should not sleep tonight. Maybe he should march to the town, stride into the small hours of the night to reach it, so he will know whether it held assistance, and possible salvation. He drew a breath, and felt it coming out in a trembling sigh. He had marched all that day since sunrise, and was exhausted by the labors of his struggles. His eyes returned to the town, that sat on the horizon like a hopeful beacon. He steeled himself and attempted to rise to his feet.

His legs would not obey him for a moment. But then, rather unsteadily, he shouldered his traveling kit and began to march slowly in the direction where he had seen the road that led to the bottom of the canyon.

He did not take more than a few steps, however, when he suddenly halted. "No," he whispered. "No. No. NO!" He spoke through tightly clenched teeth, trying to control his body's urge to panic. The familiar sensation of choking came over him, as if a terrible hand gripped his throat, tight bands of iron closed around his torso, and he lacked for air, no matter how deeply he tried to breathe.

The next moment, he slid to his knees to the ground. His heart began to pound with maddening thuds. His arms flew around his chest and pressed against it, as if seeking to contain it.

"You… c-can't…" he rasped. "You… will n-not… force me… t-to…"

But a shocked look rose to his face before he could finish his protest, and he keeled over in a dead faint.

A golden light, last remnant of the sinking sun, burst over Cloud's vision and warmed him briefly. But after a few moments he realized that the warmth and light did not come from the sun. A hand had come to rest on his forehead, caressing it gently, and a familiar voice, a voice that his whole body had grown attuned to since he first heard it, called his name.

His lashes rose, his eyes opened just a little. She was leaning over him, the golden glow surrounding her figure, shining from the materia in her hand that glowed like a tiny sun.

"A… Aerith," he muttered.

Then he slid into unconsciousness again.


The sun poured a bright glow over the thrashlands, and the desert skies looked hard and brittle. Aerith sat on a bench in the central plaza of the town, watching the canyon. The town was a unified structure that rose upwards, containing many dwellings within, and flanked by an extensive outdoor plaza. A curious contraption was stationed on the top of this huge complex; it was a star-watching device, a science in that town. The serene-mannered people of Cosmos Canyon greeted Aerith courteously as they passed. "Miss," said one woman, approaching her. "What about your young man? Did he awaken yet?"

Aerith shook her head. "He will need more time to recover, I think."

"Well, just let us know if you need anything," the woman said kindly. "The innkeeper told me to say that you can use the rooms as long as you like."

"You are very generous," Aerith said, smiling gratefully at her. The woman merely nodded and moved down the road.

She remained seated on the bench for some time, dreaming into the glowing morning. She had arrived at the town three days before, seeking the Elder's advice, but was informed that he could not see her until the end of the week. Then, her senses alerted to that shadowy presence that always arrived with Cloud, she went to meet him, and found him unconscious. She sent a message to the town, and men came to help her carry him back to the inn.

Aerith became aware that a shadow had fallen over her, and looked up. An old man had stopped before the bench and was standing before her, scanning her with his keen, dark eyes. His face was bronzed by the sun and lined with age, and like many of the people in Cosmos Canyon, he was clad in colorful garments of handmade weaving. "You, young woman," he said. "You are the Cetra's child. Is that not true?"

Aerith tilted her head to the side, examining him with attention. "How did you know?" she asked.

The old man chuckled. He raised his gaunt hand, pointing at Aerith's hair. "Simple, my dear. The White Materia. Only one woman had this materia; Ifalna, the last surviving Cetra. You, then, must be her child."

"It's true," replied Aerith. "But how do you know of my mother?"

The old man shook his head. "It seems to me that we can help each other," he said, ambiguously. "Follow me." Without another word, he turned and walked in the direction of the dwelling complex.

Aerith, sensing that this was the assistance that she had sought, rose to her feet and followed the old man up the spiraling stairway that led to the upper parts of the towering dwelling structure. He walked slowly, yet always keeping ahead of her, and with a steady pace. He continued upwards, ignoring the various doors. Aerith glanced down after a while, and perceived the town spreading below her, with the red canyon surrounding it and the bright blue skies above. It was a beautiful sight.

Finally, the old man stopped at a small, sideways door. He pushed it open, and Aerith followed him. She found herself inside a small room. It was simply furnished, with one exception; its walls held rows upon rows of shelves full of books. Besides those, it contained a table, on which several books lay in a heap, and four chairs. The old man seated himself in one chair, inviting Aerith to sit in the other. "Now," he said. "Please tell me everything that you know of the man whose footsteps you are tracing."

"You are the Elder?" Aerith asked.

He nodded. "I was informed of your coming. I wanted to consult the old books and cast the star map before we spoke. I thank you for your patience. But it appears to me as no coincidence—" the shrewd dark eyes examined her— "that you arrived such a short while after that man in the black cape was seen in the desert. I think that it must foreshadow trouble, and I need you to provide an explanation."

"Thank you, Elder," she responded. "And I will tell you everything."

Then she narrated the story as she knew it, from the incident at Nibelheim to the trail of blood at Shinra, and told him about Cloud's possession and her attempts to help him to throw off its shackles. When she finished her narration, the old man remained silent, as in thought. Then he said, "The White Materia, child, must be used to rescue that young man."

"I tried to use it, Elder. I tried the healing chant that my mother taught me several times. It did seem to help fortify his will, but only works for a while, and then he falls under the shadow's influence again."

The Elder was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Child, you said that the young man may have been injected with Jenova cells."

Aerith nodded. "That is, one of my teammates has said that this is likely, based on his current connection to Sephiroth, and Sephiroth's control over those agents. Their condition seem to be similar to Cloud's, but they seem to be… deteriorated, while Cloud is in full health. I'm not sure why."

"You must understand, child," said the Elder, "that the cells from Jenova have probably infested the young man's body. Mere prayer will not suffice, at least not as you have currently performed it."

"So even the White Materia would not help him?" she asked softly.

"I did not say this, child. The White Materia, and its derivative, are clearly helping him, as it had fortified him enough to resist Sephiroth's power, at least for a while. However, those cells are malignant, and infest his body by attaching themselves to other cells. The healing light must be strong enough to burn the physical cells out of his body. You need to say your prayers in the right place, where the White Materia's power would be magnified tenfold."

"And where would that be?" she asked.

"The city of the Ancients, child, where your ancestors had lived. The prayer house is at the top of the great stairs. When you pray on that platform, your voice reaches out to the planet and the spirits of the lifestream more easily."

"The city of the Ancients," Aerith repeated. "My mother told me that it was lost."

"According to the Cetra chronicles," said the Elder, "it lies beyond the great forest to the north. There is an enchantment over the path, however, and those who wander that are not permitted to find the true road to the city, unless they are of Cetra heritage, or have special permission."

"I see, Elder." Aerith spoke softly, mulling over his words.

But the Elder scanned her attentively. "Child of the Cetra," he said. "Saving that young man is not your only mission. You have to pray for more than him alone. You must also pray for the planet's assistance to save all of us before the coming calamity." His penetrating eyes surveyed her face. "The grand cross will soon light the sky, the black monarch of death opposing the red eye of war, both challenging another opposition of planets, an ancient evil king facing the heart of the dragon. The cross tells me of approaching strife and death, and also of great courage in face of an old threat. And I know that you are connected to it, child of the Cetra. We may need the energy of the entire world to stop it, because we are once again facing the calamity from the sky. It had festered within the earth for many years, where the Cetra had sought, with their last powers, to contain it. But now it has emerged again, and, despite its rotted condition, it seems to be slowly awakening into consciousness and beginning to manifest its power. And, according to your information, it had found a willing accomplice, at least for now, in the man who had been injected with its cells from before his birth. It is seeking great destruction, and you, child, have the power to pray for the assistance of the world and the spirits of your Cetra ancestors. The White Materia will let us know if your prayer had been answered."

"The calamity from the sky," Aerith whispered. "So it was always Jenova."

He nodded slowly. "I have consulted the last remaining texts that the Cetra has left for us hundreds of years ago. Shinra had made a terrible mistake in meddling in matters beyond their understanding, and they have awakened forces that are beyond anyone's power alone to confront. But there is hope. Its deteriorated condition means that Jenova is still gathering its strength. We must use that time to pray for assistance, and to locate the man who is now its conduit, and destroy him. But we have to follow that man, to see what he seeks. I have a terrible presentiment that he is searching for something that would augment his powers. Jenova is vindictive. It will not rest until it revenges itself on the inhabitants of the planet that had defeated and humiliated it."

"What is Jenova?" Aerith asked. "I thought that it looked like a woman, but I didn't think that it is really human."

"No," answered the Elder. "It seems to be an alien being that has arrived from the outer reaches of the stars. But whatever it is, the Cetra chronicler explained that it can take any form that it likes. It fooled the Cetra repeatedly by taking myriad human forms, and almost destroyed them in the process. The form you have seen of it now, that of a woman, is likely the last form that it had taken before the Cetra overpowered it."

She mulled over his words for a moment, and the pieces of the puzzle seemed to finally fit together. "Then I have to follow Sephiroth to find what his goals may be, and his destination, and then let my friends know so they can assist me. And I must go to the city of the Ancients and pray to my ancestors, and the planet, to assist us, and to heal Cloud."

"That sounds like a good plan, child," the Elder said, smiling. "He was seen going in the direction of the Nibel mountains, which rise on the other side of our land. If your story is to be believed, he may be seeking the Nibelheim reactor again, or perhaps the library. Follow him to find out his purposes, and then you will know what to do. And now, go, take care of your young man. He is strong in spirit, but he is in constant danger of being overwhelmed by the darkness. Keep praying with him, to safeguard his strength, while you travel."

He rose from his seat. "Meanwhile, I will also supply you with remedies that may assist his recovery. Follow me."

Aerith rose to her feet. "Thank you, Elder," she said, "for all your advice. And I will do as you say."

"Good, child," he said. "But I must leave you with a warning."

"What is it, Elder?"

"You will have to be very watchful. Your presence and prayers seem to be a comfort to that young man; but if he had been infused with the Jenova cells, they have been injected straight into his physical body, and will have a powerful influence over him which you may not be able to predict. He will have more relapses, especially when he comes closer to the source that controls him— Sephiroth, or maybe his remains. Are you sure that you want to accompany him?"

"Yes, Elder," she said, without hesitation. "I… I feel responsible for his condition, somehow. Even though he told me that he thinks that I rescued him from being a slave to Sephiroth, I still feel that my prayer in the sewers drew him out of the shadows. I… I want to keep a watch over him. I owe him that much."

The old man scrutinized her closely without replying. After a moment she blushed faintly, and lowered her eyes. He smiled slowly. "Ah," he said. "There is more to this story than I am told, I see. Well, my child, there is nothing wrong with any of your feelings about him. But you should be very careful, and, as I said, keep on watch."

"I will be careful, Elder," Aerith murmured, her face still averted. "I promise."

"Good, child. And when the young man feels well enough, please send him to me. I would like to speak with him too."

"All right, Elder," she said. "I will."


Cloud was drowning in nightmares. The swirling blackness, the endless, jarring, cacophony of voices all speaking without saying anything, tormented his dreams and almost drove him to distraction. He strained to release himself from those black chains, trying to shake himself out of the darkness; but the more he struggled, the more he seemed to sink down into the quicksand of surrender.

Someone helped him to raise his head, and a bitter drink was placed at his lips. He swallowed it convulsively, and lay back down on the bed, breathing with the effort. Then, arms wrapped around him; comforting, soothing, holding him gently as if trying to buoy him above the black ocean of madness into which he was descending. A voice whispered his name— her voice; and he felt the weight of her head against his shoulder, her body pressing against his. He turned slightly towards her, barely conscious, and rested his arms around her until he could feel her breath against his cheeks. Then he sank down into sleep again; but the black waters were receding, and he was enveloped in a sea of soothing, gentle, healing light.


He opened his eyes.

He was covered in sweat, but it had cooled, and he felt calm and soothed, as if he had been steeped in a great fever that had recently broken. Sunlight, soothing and warm, poured through the open window like honey, and the breeze that blew through it smelled like summer flowers, a peculiar scent in the middle of winter.

After a while the door opened, and Aerith came in, holding a bowl of water, soap, and a towel. She strode over, and when she perceived that he had awakened, she leant over him, resting her cool palm on his forehead. "Much better," she said, smiling at him. "I brought you something to wash with. Are you hungry?"

"I'm thirsty," he whispered.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'll bring you something." Her hand stroked his forehead for a moment with a reassuring touch, then she turned and vanished through the door. He closed his eyes wearily, submitting to the sensation of his body resting and recuperating.

It took him another day and night to fully recover from his fever, but when he awoke the next day he was feeling better. He washed himself and ate, and when Aerith came in, he motioned for her to sit down. "Aerith," he said. "We have to talk."

But she first wanted to let him know what the Elder has said to her, and narrated a substantive portion of their conversation, excluding only the topic of his own possible injection with Jenova cells by Shinra. Cloud listened in silence, but at the mention of Nibelheim he stirred uneasily. She noticed his reaction and laid cool fingers on his forehead again, as if seeking to calm him. "We will not go there, if it's difficult for you to face it, Cloud. I can contact the others and ask them to meet us there instead."

He was silent, steeped in thought. Finally, he said, "No. I should go."

"Are you sure?" she asked gently, noticing the set lines in his face.

"Yes. I have to see Nibelheim again, even if there's nothing there. I only recall it in a haze, like a childhood memory that keeps recurring in dreams and nightmares, and always looks both the same and different than what you know it to have been. I have to ground these dreams, and see reality with my own eyes. It may help me remember."

She did not say anything. She again recalled the discussion about Cloud's capture and possible experimentation by Shinra and Hojo, and debated how much she should narrate to him from Zack and Tifa's reports; but she feared that it was too early to give him that information, particularly as it pertained to what happened after the Nibelheim incident. He noticed her silence, and some of her struggle, because he examined her face for some time. "Aerith," he said.

"Yes?"

"I was thinking. It's Tifa who knows the most about my childhood. Did she… did she speak of it to any of you?"

Aerith struggled with the same doubts for a moment. But then she said, "She did not say much about your childhood, but she did speak of the incident of five years ago."

"What did she say?"

"She— and the young man who joined us in the tower, Zack— told us about the incident."

"I see. They told you everything they know?"

"Yes, as far as I can tell."

"Then…" he hesitated, but then said, "I would like to hear what they said."

Aerith examined his face. He was looking down at the bed covers, but something about his expression told her that he felt that he was ready for the revelations. "Cloud," she said, nevertheless, "are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Then I will tell you all that I know from them. But, Cloud, can you first tell me what you CAN remember? Just so I can understand."

"All right," he said, after a moment. And he spoke of his childhood in Nibelheim, his enlistment in the army, his days in SOLDIER, and, a little more clearly, his recent life in the city. Aerith tried to nudge his memory with careful questions, but they seemed to help very little. When he was done, she said, "So… do you recall Tifa now?"

"Yes," he said. "I have been recalling our childhood in bits and pieces, ever since you gave me the golden materia. It seemed to shine a new light into channels in my mind that had grown dark."

"So…" She hesitated for a moment, "maybe it would be good… if you see her, and talk to her again?"'

"Maybe," he responded, but his voice was neutral.

"Tifa is a kind person," Aerith said, noticing that he had slipped into his old, cagey manner. "She will be happy to help you. She had wanted to help you since she met you again."

"Yes, I know," he said listlessly.

"Then why…" She hesitated, then said, very gently, "Cloud, are you… afraid of seeing her again?"

He averted his face, and said nothing. Then he gave a sigh and said, "Let's… let me just hear first what she, and Zack, told you. I would rather hear it from you first."

She nodded. Then she began to narrate the story of five years ago, Zack's impressions, Tifa's memories and explanations. She spoke slowly, deliberating over the details as she recalled them, letting him absorb them as he listened, so he could organize them properly in his mind.

She narrated the whole story, and he listened to her silently, without interrupting the narrative even once. When she finished speaking, it was noon. She rose to her feet and said, with a reassuring smile, "I think that we should take a meal break. You are still recovering."

"All right," he said, very quietly.

She examined him closely, wondering how the narration affected him. She hesitated for a moment, and then decided to ask him that most important question, the one of which no one knew the answer. "Cloud. Do you recall anything from what happened to Sephiroth when you confronted him… or afterwards?"

After a moment, he said, "It's still… in a kind of fog. I recall a struggle. But that is all. The details are clearing… but very, very slowly. And as for what happened next…"

He paused, then looked up at her. "I can't recall that at all. I only know that there's a gap in my memory that must have lasted years. And I am not so blind that I can't make the deductions. Shinra captured me. Didn't they, Aerith?"

She bit her lip. "Yes."

"So I was a prisoner. A prisoner without any memory remaining after my imprisonment."

His voice was strangely calm as he said this. Aerith said, very quietly, "Please, Cloud… let us not think of this now. You still need to recover your strength. Let's just live this moment, right now, in this place. We will need the healing to face what is coming ahead."

"You are right," he said, his head low.

She looked at him. "I don't want to place more stress on you," she said. "But the Elder said that he would like to speak to you before we leave."

"All right," he said indifferently. "I'll see him as soon as I can."

"I can tell him to come here," she said. "If you feel better tomorrow."

"All right," he said again. Then he sank back in the bed and closed his eyes. She left, closing the door quietly after her.


That evening, Aerith gave Cloud a medicine that, she said, would assist him to sleep and heal. He tried to push all thoughts about the past from his mind, and the drink helped him fall asleep quickly.

When he woke up the next day, it was late noon. Aerith came into his room after some time, bringing food and drinks. "Are you feeling better?" she asked.

"Yes. Still a little tired, though."

She hesitated for a moment, then said, "Cloud, there's a dance by the bonfire this afternoon. Do you think that you'll be strong enough to come with me? I think that some fresh air will do you good. You won't have to dance, just sit with me. The evening should be warm, but we'll wrap you up well."

He hesitated. Then he nodded. "All right. You're right, I want to breathe some fresh air."

When the sun began to set, Aerith came into the room again. Cloud was already dressed, waiting for her. She smiled up at him. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," he said. She took his hand, and he followed her slowly down the winding stairs. The sunset was illuminating the clouds with pink and violet hues, and the sky had a warm, deep glow. A huge bonfire had been lit in the central plaza, and Cloud could see the populace of the town gathered around it. A small group of musicians stood to the side, playing a delicate, fluting music that piped merrily into the warm atmosphere, and people were dancing to it. It appeared to be a traditional folk dance, with everyone dancing together in a circle. Cloud sat on a bench, and Aerith seated herself at his side as they watched the dance. After some moments, an old man approached them with a slow step. Aerith sat up, turning towards him. "Elder! Cloud is with me. I'd like to introduce you."

The old man seated himself on the bench besides Aerith, and peered at Cloud. Cloud inclined his head in silent greeting, and returned the old man's searching gaze with a steady, neutral look. Finally, the old man smiled. "So, you are the young man that the Cetra's child spoke about. Welcome. I'm glad that you're feeling better."

"Thank you, Elder," Cloud returned formally.

The Elder inclined his head at him, but he did not appear to wish to engage in conversation. Instead, he sat near the young couple, watching the dance with them. After some time the music fell silent, and people clapped. Then, after a few moments, the musicians struck a new note. People arranged into couples, readying for the new dance.

Aerith rose to her feet. "Oh!" she said, seeming excited. "I know this dance! They dance it in the city too, and it's one of my favorites. I love dancing so much, Cloud. Please come with me? You won't have to do a thing, you just stand while I dance, and walk a little when you need to do so. Please? It won't weary you out, I promise."

Cloud hesitated. He observed the dance for a moment. It did indeed appear that the women were doing most of the dancing, while the men stood and, at certain moments, took their hands and walked in a circle around them. It didn't seem too taxing, and he suddenly felt that he would like to do this with Aerith. For some reason, he felt the old man's eyes on him, and he glanced his way. The Elder smiled, but then looked away. Cloud rose to his feet. "All right," he said.

Aerith immediately took his hands, and led him to the dance. He stood, feeling a little awkward. Aerith rose on tiptoes for a moment, looking into his face. "Don't worry," she whispered. "I'll lead. Just give me your hands."

He obeyed her, still feeling awkward. She began to follow the movements of the dance. She stepped, skipped, then twirled in time to the music, her dress flying. When she was facing him again, she was laughing. She performed the same moves again, twirling gracefully, her nimble feet following the music with sure steps, then took his hands in hers. He could now see that the other men were stepping in a circle around the women, and tried to emulate their movements, walking around her. Their hands were gripped together, and he was looking into her face. She was smiling up at him, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed with excitement. He felt his heart giving a leap; but before he could do anything, she was twirling around him again, her long braid flying with her movements. For a few minutes she was out of his grasp; but the next movement brought her next to him again, and she took his hands in her own. For a few moments there was a respite in the dance, and all the couples stood facing each other, hands clasped together. He stood, holding her hands, looking at her. He felt himself stepping closer, an instinctive movement. He knew what he wanted to do.

But the next moment the music grew lively again, and the women were dancing. She stepped out of his reach with a teasing laugh, twirling away to the music. He found his hands reaching for air, and grew still. He watched her with an abstracted gaze. The music grew dim in his ears, and all he could see was the pale, whirling form against the flames of the bonfire, skipping to her dragonfly's dance on nimble feet. He felt a rush of warmth despite the coolness of the evening, and closed his eyes for a moment. He felt weary and exhilarated all at once, and he wanted— he didn't really want to think about what he wanted. He felt excited, and, somehow, also troubled. And then, she was before him again, grasping his hands. But before he could react, the music stopped. The dance was over.

Cloud walked slowly after Aerith as she made her way back to the bench, pulling him after him. The Elder still sat there, and his dark eyes examined the young couple. For a few moments there was silence; but then the music began in a new dance, and Aerith sprang to her feet.

"I can't seem to keep still today!" she exclaimed. "Cloud, you will forgive me if I join the next dance, right? It's everyone together, so you don't need to come. You should rest now."

"Yes, go," he said distantly. She threw a swift, bright smile his way, and rushed back towards the circle.

"She has a lot of energy, this lively girl," the Elder remarked with a smile.

"Yes," Cloud answered flatly. His eyes were on the people encircling the bonfire, following Aerith's form as she took her place in the dancing circle.

After a few moments of silence, the Elder said, "I apologize for having to speak with you of such grave matters so soon after you have recovered. But the Cetra's child told me that you are determined to pursue Sephiroth to Nibelheim. I would like to discuss this with you, if you don't mind."

Cloud glanced at the Elder. The old man sensed that the younger's mood was distracted, and that he didn't really listen to what he said with full attention. But Cloud answered politely enough. "Yes, sir."

The old man scanned the young man attentively. "Do you feel yourself strong enough?" he asked. "Strong enough to withstand his influence?"

There was silence. Then Cloud said, a little wearily, "I am not sure, sir. It's why I forbade her from coming with me, after she rescued me from his control on the ship."

"But she insists on coming with you," noted the old man. "And I already asked her about it, and can tell that her mind is set on this point."

Their eyes wandered to Aerith again, as she leapt with the dancers on her light feet. Even at the distance, they could tell that she was laughing. The Elder glanced back at the young man. He had stirred uneasily, and averted his eyes. After a few moments his voice came, rather faint. "Do you think… do you think that I'm… a danger to her?"

"I don't know," said the old man, his manner detached. "I believe that you are a strong person. But I also believe that you have feelings for her, which are both a benefit and a hindrance at this moment." Cloud bit his lip, a hot flush staining his cheeks, but said nothing and kept his face averted. "The situations that it may engender may prove to be unstable for you both."

"I'll keep it in mind, sir," Cloud finally said, his voice very low.

The Elder examined his face. The young man's expression was set, his body tense, his fists tight on his knees. "You have to approach this situation in a rational manner," he added, trying to keep his voice impartial. "I know that it will be difficult. But, if she is to accompany you, you should be on your guard. Strong emotions can be both a boon and a curse. Remember that."

"Yes, sir," Cloud muttered.

The old man rose from his seat. He examined the young man for another moment. His intention had been well-meaning, out of the concern that he felt for the safety of the young woman. But, taking the measure of the young man, he now wondered whether he had been too frank in his advice, and whether he had miscalculated the character of the youth before him, whom he was no longer sure would benefit from such a course of action. So, before he disappeared into the dusk of the waiting buildings, he looked over his shoulder at Cloud, seeking to convey some reassurance to mitigate his worrisome warning.

"Love is always a good thing," he said, an almost gentle note entering his usually wry tones. "At the right place, and at the right time."

Cloud passed his hand over his face. "Yes," he muttered.

After a few moments, Aerith rushed back to the bench. She was flushed with happiness, her cheeks rosy, and wanted to share her elation with Cloud. But she stopped in her tracks when she neared the bench.

The bench was empty. Cloud had left.


The next afternoon, Aerith came to visit Cloud's room. Something about the conclusion of the previous night made her feel a little timid; but she wanted to speak to him. She had met the Elder a little earlier that day, and he said to her, "That young man is still dealing with the stress of his current struggle. Perhaps you should leave him a lone for a little while. I will send someone else to check on him, and bring him the necessary victuals."

She obeyed, and waited for the afternoon to call on him again. She found Cloud sitting in the bed, gazing out of the window absently. She halted at the door, examining his turned profile. He noticed her entry, and turned his head to look at her. Their gaze met; but he neither smiled nor welcomed her. His mood, to her, seemed preoccupied, as if he was meditating on an unhappy thought. She thought that a change of air would be good for him.

"Cloud," she said softly. "Would you like to try and leave the room, just for a little while? It is a warm afternoon again today."

He averted his face for a moment. She scanned him, sensing that something has changed, although she could not guess what. "Just for a little while," she prompted him gently. "We'll just go to the plaza to watch the sunset, and then go back."

He lowered his eyes. "All right."

Walking slowly together, they descended into the plaza. The bonfire had gone out, and only a black, charred circle remained, full of coals and the remains of burnt food. Cloud stood staring at it for some moments, as if he was sensing that it told him something. Then he looked at Aerith.

She returned his gaze. But then she suddenly felt as if he was looking at her in a detached way, as if evaluating her for some purpose that she could not quite discern. The feeling of a placed distance between them grew in her. But then he broke their gaze, looking away, as if sensing that she was trying to guess his thoughts and wishing to conceal them from her.

Aerith turned around. She did not want to disturb that mood, that daunted her a little somehow. She, too, she felt, needed a breath of fresh air. "Come on, Cloud," she said softly, glancing behind her shoulder. "Let's go watch the sunset."

He followed her slowly behind as she stepped into the open canyon beyond the plaza. The sun was low in the skies, painting them red, and the fiery shadows stole across the rocks, making them burn. He watched her as she seated herself on the ground. "Isn't it beautiful?" she said. "Let's watch it together."

He came to sit next to her. For a few moments they sat together, not speaking. He avoided looking at her. Despite his attempts to draw a clear line between them, following on the Elder's warning, he was still struggling with the feelings that her closeness engendered; and he thought, the old man was right; here I am, trying, but still barely unable, to control my emotions. And… he… may be able to use that to his advantage. I should, I have to control it… until I know that it's safe.

He looked down at his hands, which he had placed on his knees, and maintained a continued silence. But then, he slowly became aware that she, too, was not speaking. It bothered him somehow, and he finally looked up. He saw that her eyes were on the red, shining canopy of the sunset, and on the shimmering expanse of the burning skies. "It is so pure and strong here," she finally said, breathing in as if she was taking in a refreshing draught.

"What is?" he asked quietly, covertly examining her profile.

"The earth, the air, the sky." Her gaze was still fixed on the horizon, where the red drained out slowly and was displaced by deep blue shades.

Aerith became silent again, and did not speak for a long time. The light vanished, and a blue evening enveloped the world with warmth and beauty; and she watched it silently, not speaking, not stirring. He remained at her side, not wanting to break her repose for fear that she may say, or do, something that will cause him to react in a way that he should not. But as her stillness lasted, a strange uneasiness stole over him. He thought that although her eyes were open, she seemed as if she had sunk into a dreamlike trance, absorbing herself into the vision before her. And a fear crept in him, slowly but steadily, that if he did not shake her out of that spell, draw her soul back to the earth, it will vanish into the sky and will never return.

"Aerith," he finally whispered, as the sun's last rays sunk behind the horizon.

At the sound of his voice, she finally stirred. "What is it?" she asked, a smile glimmering as she turned her eyes towards him. He immediately looked away, but his fingers gripped his knees, and he felt himself trembling a little.

"Don't… don't leave me behind."

She drew another breath. Then she rose to her feet slowly, and stood with her back to him. The gentle evening winds stirred her long hair, and the silent stars that peeped amid the velvety blue evening glowed softly around her. For a moment she was like a statue, a shadowy figure carved into the gemmed blue of the enveloping universe. Then, she answered him softly.

"I can't promise anything. But I'll try."


© Written by Hadas Rose, revised 2015, 2021.

Final Fantasy VII is © Square, 1997.

Notes

Exposition! Elder was very useful to me.

In the old version, in the last scene they were lying on the ground and listening to the planet and such, which was all kinds of Colors of the Wind cringe. So I changed it. Also in the original, the entire group came to the canyon. I deleted the scene where the group learns about mako energy and the planet and treehugging and stuff because Aerith already knows all about that. Not that there's anything wrong with treehugging. I hug trees all the time, and once had an apple tree as a friend. Well, not really, but its Ana apples were delicious.