Darkness.

Tifa was floating in darkness.

It was like she was submerged in blackest water, stifling thought and sound. There was a ripple somewhere far above her head, descending into the abyss like a cliff diver. She felt her forehead poked, neither too gently nor too forcefully, and she gasped.

The heavy sensation of water turned to a buzzing static, then slowly stilled. She was on something soft, and, as her vision cleared, Tifa realized she was in her room. Death and the two shrouded figures from before stood over her. He retracted his hand.

"Welcome back."

All she could think of saying was "huh?"

He made a noise, perhaps laughter. "You've been out for a while. Do you remember anything?"

Tifa blinked, then slowly sat up. She noticed she was naked under the covers and quickly held them to her. "My-"

"You had to be cleaned up." He looked away and pointed at the creature to his left. "Aneira took care of that."

"Oh." She looked into her lap for answers as her boss patiently waited at the side of her bed. She licked her lips as her memory of that day returned and she shyly divulged what she wanted to. Death nodded when she was finished. "Does he have to teach me?" Tifa asked, wrapping a strand of hair around her finger. "He's a bit rough."

He shrugged. "The job is rough, too."

Tifa sighed, scrunching up a fist. "Didn't you say something about respect during dinner?"

He moved his head just a little more. She heard a short sigh from him. "Yes. But that doesn't mean you get to choose not to do essential duties."

She looked down again, playing with the fabric of her blanket. "Right. I guess that's how things have to be…"

"You chose it. Though, I can understand." Tifa looked back up at him. "You weren't told about this. Maybe if you knew, you wouldn't have agreed to it."

She shook her head, looking into the shadow of his hood before thinking better of it and lowering her gaze. She raked the fingers of one hand through her hair. "No...I chose this because...because I couldn't…"

"Couldn't what?"

"I can't let my murderer go," she admitted. "And I guess that's a terrible reason to join your club, but I did what I did. I'm...all in," she whispered, hugging her covers closer.

Death nodded, slowly, silence falling between them like dust in stale air before he broke it with his hideous voice. "Anyway...you seem alright now. When you're ready, meet Dyne at the palace entrance."

"...Okay," she said flatly.

The shrouded figure on his right turned to him then, and Tifa noticed the dark outline of a desiccated face beneath the white linen. Her mummified hand came up slowly as if she were whispering a conversation. Which she obviously was, because Death responded. "Oh, right. Thanks, Kalda."

He turned back to Tifa. "Until we meet again."

Then they were gone, without a puff of smoke or a bang. Simply gone. She looked around, making sure she was truly alone, then set about getting dressed. She had liked her outfit from before, so, she went about replicating it, even finding another black jacket waiting for her. Perhaps it was the same one as before, she wasn't sure, but she put it on anyway.

Afterward, she headed to the Great Hall, finding that she could simply order what she wanted and that dinners like the one she had been part of were rare, though hardly a task for a deity's kitchen, or so she was told. Finding she had a small appetite, she asked for a bowl of soup and a side of bread. She quickly wolfed it down, then headed towards the entrance.

Dyne was waiting, surly as ever. "Finally awake, princess?"

"Cheerful as always, I see," she quipped back. "I hope we're not doing anything like last time?"

He put his hands on his hips, his dour frown never leaving his lips. "I'll have the pleasure of training you." He pointed towards a narrow stairwell, nestled in the wall near the archway that lead to the parts of the palace Tifa knew so far. "We will be using the Place out of Time, a room close to the Abyssal Waters."

"Oh." She rubbed her foot into the floor. "What kind of training?"

"Emissaries of the gods are granted a portion of their power. It stains their soul. I'll train you to access the power Death has given you."

"So...is it like when I was a ghost?"

"More than that." Dyne walked towards the stairwell, and Tifa followed. It spiraled downward like an upsidedown turret. The air changed, growing heavy, resisting them as they descended. Then it was gone, and a strange buzz permeated her body, like she was in space.

Dyne looked back at her as they reached a simple wooden door, painted a dark shade of maroon. "The Abyss, as I was told, distorts time. Which is why the Underworld barely has any sense of time. It is the Timeless Land, after all." He opened the door, pushing it forward. "This place is further removed from time."

The room was less a room and more a piece of the distant night sky. The door stood by itself in this twilight place, the ceiling a far off cosmos and the floor barren ground. It stretched out to the horizon. Tifa stood there, marveling at it.

Dyne strolled deeper in, rolling his shoulders. "Death's power is greater than most of the other gods. You will learn how to control that power.

"Some things will have to wait until we go back to the world of the living. Pulling the soul out of a living body for the first time is quite the thrill, but first, you'll learn about the necromantic energies at your beck and call." He turned towards her as Tifa followed behind him. She stopped several feet from him.

"Corpses will move as you desire. The living will fear your presence." Dyne lifted his arm and produced an orb of dark energy. "Magic from the domains of ice and shadow...though, to be honest, that'll take you a fair amount of time to master."

Tifa raised a brow. "Have you?"

He lowered his arm and shrugged. "Not yet, no." A rare smile came to his lips, and he shrugged flippantly. "Well, let's begin. We'll start with your spirit. The one given to you by our master, that is."

"What is a spirit?" Tifa asked, scratching at her forearm. "No one's explained anything yet."

Dyne sighed harshly and smoothed his hand over his head. "Right, the fucking amnesia." With a final huff he brought up his arm, two fingers sticking up. "Your spirit is sometimes called the Breath of Life. It animates the body. When you die, it should go back to Creation. If it doesn't, the body may rise."

He folded a finger. "Your soul, on the other hand, is the etherial half of a mortal, complimenting the body. It comes down here after death, where it is granted a new spirit, in tune with the Underworld." He lowered his hand.

"I see." Tifa looked down at herself, then back up. "So how do I use it?"

"The channels are similar to the Breath of Life. Let me show you how to tap into Death's power, like this…"

It was like a blur. They could have been out there for hours, or days, maybe even weeks, only returning to the palace sporadically to eat and rest. Mind and body ached, yet Tifa never stopped, the burning desire in her chest giving her the power to continue. Dyne taught her secrets that had been given to him until he was confident in her ability to replicate them.

As her training continued, Tifa questioned not her decision, but herself.

Aerith had to admit, Nibelheim was a lovely place. Being that its elevation was high enough that even a late spring day was mild, she only needed her red jacket to keep away the very slight chill as she stood in the shade of a tree. The streets were a mix of modern asphalt, with the rare vehicle passing through, and laid brick, which carried foot traffic and Chocobo drawn carts and carriages.

The inn she had stayed in had been cozy and quiet, a wonderful break from traveling by foot, carriage, or the random car. A bed was far better for her back than the roots of giant trees, after all. But her money was low, and she couldn't stay forever. Especially not after today; the wind told of trouble. They were coming this way.

She bit into her apple, watching residents as they went about their business. Observing a few local monks making their rounds about town for trouble or breaches of church law. Aerith knew she could make some coin here, quickly, before they even realized who she was, and then she would be off to North Corel, a now secular country that would be less receptive to extraditing her to their jurisdiction.

Feeling it might be best to walk around and feel out a customer, she entered the gentle afternoon sun. There were plenty that called out to her; anxiety meant there was a problem in life. Sometimes she could fix it, other times she could soothe with fortune-telling. Usually.

Some of them were quite eager for help. Aerith liked to moonlight as a traveling priestess. People couldn't tell most of the time that she wasn't, and the authorities usually wouldn't check until it was too late, and she would be gone to the next village.

Aerith found a mark, she told him she was a priestess of Lakshmi, and just as she had hoped he had wanted to know something. So, she took out her cards and he bought them both a coffee. Then she had another person come up to the table after her first one was satisfied, asking about a lover. The money was good from that one.

After one more she moved to another shop, this one selling various local herbal teas. It was old, the wood of the sign cracked and the paint chipped and fading. After a quick bathroom break, she started eyeing for more customers and watching the monks for any signs of suspicion on their part.

"Hey! Are you that traveling clergy?"

Aerith turned her head at the lightly accented voice as she leaned on a wooden pillar of the tea shop's covered seating area. She studied the woman in front of her. "Maybe."

This new customer looked to be about her age, maybe younger, she wasn't sure. She had auburn hair in a ponytail, her thick bangs lining her face, and a red bandana covering her forehead. Her left cheek had a smear of engine grease on it. She was wearing a dark blue mechanic's jumpsuit, and her belt had various knickknacks and pouches on it.

She nodded. "I heard you were doing sortileges. Mind if I buy some of your time?"

Aerith smiled at her and motioned towards the tea shop. "Sure. How about in here, where it's a bit more private?"

"Yeah." They walked to one of three tables, covered in earthy yet vibrant colors, a small tea light flickering in a frosted glass container. "Name's Jessie, by the way."

She hesitated, then relaxed into her seat. "Aerith."

"Normally, I don't buy into this stuff too much... just, I get more out of the trains coming in and out of town than I get out of the Church, and…" Jessie sighed, her cheeks pink, then held her head in her hand. The distant toot of a train horn rose above the light din of the busy street. "I'm not too good at this."

"I can tell," Aerith stated, cheerful as always. "No worries."

"I wish I could say that," said Jessie. A waitress came outside to their table, offering a menu to Aerith, who quickly chose the local favorite: rose tea. After she had left, Jessie continued on. "I have a friend that's missing."

"Oh?"

Jessie nodded. "Yeah. She's been gone since her birthday, a little over two months ago. They've looked all over for her, I've managed search parties, but we found nothing! It's like she just vanished."

"Maybe she skipped town?" Aerith took out her deck of cards, the exact same ones her mother used when she was alive.

Jessie shrugged. "We were really close, so...she seemed pretty happy here."

"Well, let's see if I can glean something from these." Aerith put the cards on the table, and, focusing on the question, quietly asking Creation to reveal the answer, she began to fold the deck. After a minute she pulled three cards and placed them in front of her. A reversed Temperance, The High Priestess, and Death.

The temple bells rang, blocks away from their meeting. Aerith tapped her fingers on the table.

Temperance was Famfrit standing in a pond, holding a jug of wine, pouring it into a golden goblet that was filling with what was now water. His azure eyes stared straight ahead. "Connected to the church…"

Her eyes went to The High Priestess. She sat, dressed in a robe that was on one half pure white, and the other midnight black. She had a silver diadem covered in precious stones, and her hands held a stave of authority and a crystal ball. "Secrets...a mystery…"

Lastly, Aerith gazed upon Death. The robed figure stood on top of the corpses of a pauper and a king, his scythe lazily at the ready to reap a begging priest. "Well…"

"What's it say, priestess?" Jessie asked.

Their tea was served, along with a small plate of anise biscuits, warm and coated in a hard frosting. Aerith studied the cards, listening to them whisper a story to her. "Calamity has struck her. Done in secret...but not far away."

Jessie, cradling her cup in her hands, tightened her grip. "You're saying it was murder?"

"Well, maybe. Or maybe she got attacked by a monster," she said quickly, her eyes looking about.

Aerith lowered her voice. "It may have happened at a place of worship. Or, a place that used to be a temple, you know?"

Jessie quipped a brow. "Are you sure? No offense, but this seems a bit wishy-washy…"

"Hm." Aerith glanced about before blowing on her tea and taking a sip. She was already in hot water as it was, but this woman, she sensed, was as much trouble as she was. "I could tell you, but it might be...received poorly by certain people."

Jessie narrowed her eyes as she drank her tea, seemingly judging Aerith. She put her cup down, leaned in, and whispered "you aren't really a priestess, are you?"

Aerith stared at her with her emerald green eyes and gave an almost indiscernible shake of her head. "But don't think I don't know what the cards are saying."

"Tell me," demanded Jessie. "I don't care if you're a witch or whatever. I wanna know what happened to my friend."

"If you're sure…" Aerith looked over the cards again, confirming the story they weaved. "Your friend is most likely dead, by the hands of a local coven. Her resting place would be at a religious location. Maybe a local temple. If it is, then it's somewhere abandoned.

"This card…" She pointed at Death. "This one is a warning, to you. Don't meddle, or you might meet the same fate. Maybe even by the hands of your friend."

Jessie scoffed at the last part. "What's so sacrilegious about that?"

"Let's just say I wouldn't trust the clergy to not dabble in things regular people aren't allowed to." Aerith slipped the cards back into her deck, then put them away, into an inner pouch in her jacket. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Jessie shrugged, looking around and sipping her tea. "I dunno what a witch can do…"

"I'm not a witch," Aerith said indignantly.

"Oh? Then what are you?"

"Trouble, if I hang around much longer." Aerith put down her mug, looking down at the half-filled cup.

"Would you know where to look for Tifa?"

She looked up at Jessie. "Yes."

"Then I want to know where."

"You do remember the warning, right?"

Jessie nodded. "I still wanna know...I'll give you a ticket to wherever you're going. First-class."

Aerith raised her brows. The sounds of children playing and old women gossiping overtook their space. "Guess it's my turn to be disbelieving."

There was a chuckle from Jessie, swallowed up by a sip of tea. "I can make it happen. I'm not just another train techie."

"Well, I guess we both have our secrets, then." Aerith took a pen and a notepad she kept in a pocket to keep track of expenses. She made a basic map of the area, then, feeling it out, she put an "X" on one of the smaller mountainsides. "...There's the ruins of a shrine to Garuda somewhere up there. That's where she'd be."

Jessie plucked it from her hand, staring at it all the while. She looked it over, then nodded. "...Guess you are the real deal. There's no way a foreigner would know about those ruins."

"And you do?"

"Yeah," she said, fiddling with a pouch. "We visited it a few times as a hiking goal."

"I'm sorry about your friend," said Aerith sincerely. "Just be careful you don't meet the same fate."

"...Thank you for trusting me," replied Jessie. She took out her wallet and placed a small stack of bills, then, she put a ticket on top. "Better git before you're found out."

"A ticket? How would you know where I'd go?"

Jessie shook her head, grinning and leaning back into her chair like she won a chess competition. "Tell the ticket master where you'd like to go."

Aerith frowned, then took a look at the ticket. It was ivory white with "Compliments of Jessie Carrawind" in gold cursive.

She glanced back up at Jessie.

She was already gone, with one of the biscuits on the plate missing.

Swallowing, Aerith grabbed the cash and took a biscuit before quickly leaving the shop and walking down the road, where the train station was. Sometimes she thought she'd heard, or sensed, the shout of a monk, or worse, Midgar's elite, discreet forces. Just the breeze, just the children, just the guffawing.

The station was right ahead.

Compared to the stations one could find in Midgar and Junon, this one was positively humble. Stone steps on either side led to a raised platform with a brick building, several booths housing bored station agents. A train sped by in the distance, going to faraway lands.

She hurriedly made her way up the steps, only stopping when she made it to a shaded booth. The woman inside looked at her with a tired yet expectant expression, without a word of welcome. Aerith smiled after a moment and slid the ticket on the counter. "I'd like a 1st class ticket to Corel, please."

The station agent took it in hand and read it. Her eyes went from it to Aerith. "Next train arrives in two hours."

"That's fine."

She saw the woman type something up, then Aerith heard a printer grinding. She was handed an actual ticket, with Jessie's name on it. "Thanks," said Aerith, and she went to find the platform for Corel. It was one of two, and she found a bench to sit at.

The chirp of birds and busy footsteps was welcome, and she overheard a couple conversing about the Corel civil war that led to the creation of a constitutional dictatorship suppressing the Church there. How it led to the south splintering off, how the north carefully screened visitors.

She had forgotten that she would have to go through southern Corel to get to her goal.

It was just another leg on her journey, she told herself. She had been on ships, trains, and her own two feet, traveling from Midgar a continent away to the secluded mountains and plateaus of the west. This, she hoped, would be comparatively easy, especially with Creation's help.

Aerith looked towards the sky, still clutching her biscuit, and she took a bite. Only a little bit longer.

Tifa pondered what she would be taught next as she slowly ate her porridge. Dyne ate next to her and Death was sitting on his chair, watching his subjects as they milled about. One of the kitchen servants had told her it was a token to boost morale. Whose, she wasn't sure. She watched Aneira and Kalda, studying the symbols draped over their shrouded chests with chains.

"Who are they?" Tifa finally asked Dyne, nudging her head towards them as they sat on either side of the shrouded deity.

"The Icy Hands of Death, or just his handmaidens will do." He turned to Tifa. "The story goes that they were high priestesses of Shiva, who fought our master as he unsealed the Underworld. He dragged them down with him, and now they are under his power."

Her eyes widened. "That's...horrible."

"They made their choice." He drank heavily from his cup.

She made a sound, raking her fingers against her bowl. "So...I'll meet you in the Place out of Time soon?"

"No. For your next bit of practice, we will be going up to the remains of a small battlefield. Then, we reap any stragglers there."

Her brows scrunched together. "Reap stragglers? We're...going to kill people?"

"If they're too far gone." He gave her a look over the side of his cup. "Would you rather they die slowly, eaten alive by ghouls or turned into wraiths?"

Tifa shook her head quickly, her hands squeezing her bowl. "N-no, I was hoping maybe we could...heal them?"

"Heal them? We aren't nurses!" Dyne rolled his eyes and gave her an indignant look. "Listen, we give merciful deaths. If there's no emissaries or priests with healing magic, they're shit out of luck. Understood?"

"...Yes." She looked down into her porridge, her appetite gone. Pushing it away, she stood to leave. "I'll see you by the entrance."

She didn't wait for him to respond back, not that he would, and she ended up wandering the halls a little while before leaning up against the wall opposite the doors. She appreciated the intricate carvings, the smooth grooves and metal leaf making a gracious scene of receiving the dead. It seemed kindly, especially when compared to her awakening in the House of Judges.

After some time with her thoughts, Dyne came in. "Ready?"

"As ready as ever," she sighed.

He nodded as he stood in front of her. He told her what to do, how she could channel her whole body to the overworld by the subtle routes graves can make. How to feel for where she wanted to go, how all the different entrances had a different energy, whether it was from culture, magic, or age.

As Dyne went silent, Tifa felt. At first, it was as if she was in a room full of static, then, slowly, it cleared, and she could sense them, countless holes in the veil for her to enter through. There, smelling of blood and gunpowder, was a fresh trail. Corel. She focused on that one, and she was pulled through. She felt like she was spinning in a tunnel made of sound, and an instant later she was forcefully yanked through reality.

It felt like it was over in an instant, and Tifa opened her eyes to find herself in a barren grassland, forested mountains far in the distance, and a crescent moon up above, the rest of the night sky splattered with beautiful stars that seemed to go on forever.

She stood there, gazing at it, finding even this too lively, too vivid. The enmity she had felt before was noticeably duller now, however, and she wasn't sure if it was because of the night or because she was, in a sense, whole again. A familiar sense of awe struck her from the sheer beauty of it all.

A group of stars caught her eye, the center a vibrant red orb. It had a name, she knew, if only she had paid more attention to her friend about it...

"No time for sightseeing," interrupted Dyne's gruff voice. "Eyes to the ground."

Tifa sighed harshly at that, the fading memory flitting in front of her like a waking dream. After so long, another sliver of her former life, slipping from her grasp! "...Right."

Taking a look around, she noticed a few shallow graves, crumbling dirt and broken pebbles barely covering bodies wearing soldier uniforms. A very faint emerald glow, barely discernable from the background light, shined from each pit. Dyne pointed at it. "These pits are full of spirits, not souls. If they are not properly put to rest, there's a good chance they'll stagnate in the body, creating undead."

"Can't we...fix that?" Tifa asked.

"It would be a waste of time. They keep a few priests in the area for that." He then aimed his finger at a dead soldier that was half out of his grave, his partially defleshed skull still glistening in the starlight. Tifa wondered if their arrival spooked the creatures during their feast. "And there we have the telltale signs of ghouls."

Tifa noticed wisps of pale light speckling the nighttime gloom, some moving and some not. She pointed towards a group. "What is that? It-it's not people, is it?"

"It is. Looks like they're trying to survive the cold night." Dyne shook his head. "North Corel, South Corel...drag them all back."

Tifa nodded in response, though her dead heart quivered. Dyne walked past her, gradually becoming translucent. " We will go as ghosts. "

She followed his lead, towards the mass of light, and he whispered to her what to do, how it felt to pull a soul from a body. When they found them, the soldiers were huddled together, sleeping, some whose light clung loosely to their bodies and others where it was uniform in glow. If one of them was supposed to be on watch, they had failed horribly.

Dyne pointed at one of the soldiers, huddled in the middle of the group. He had blood very slowly dribbling from a nostril, and his breathing was wet and labored. Tifa reached out, her eyes wavering to the others, a sense of unease growing in her chest. The moment her fingers connected with the dying man's chest, she felt a tingle. She pushed through, grasping the soul, and pulled it loose like a ripe fruit off a tree.

His final breath left him, and Tifa held an eerie, silvery orb in her hand.

Dyne motioned for her to follow him again, and as soon as they were far away enough he returned to his physical form. "Easy, wasn't it? The healthy living are much harder to do, of course. Easier to just do them in with a weapon. Anyway. Go ahead and practice, and don't go getting seen. Our master doesn't want to be known yet."

She swallowed thickly and nodded, then marched off into the night. Her fists were squeezed tight as her jaw, disgust welling in every fiber of her being. Yet nothing could be done; it was her station. At least, she reasoned, she didn't have to take some sort of sick pleasure from it as Dyne seemed to.

There was another light, fainter, and pulsing weakly, far to her left. As she came closer, she noticed that there were two souls, one being much stronger than the other. The source of the brighter light was behind a rock outcropping, holding his side and occasionally gasping for breath. He stirred when she approached, his eyes nearly bulging out of his sockets.

"Ghost!" he shouted, stumbling over himself.

She bit her lower lip as she looked at this panic-struck man who couldn't be much older than her. His whole life ahead of him, and he was out here in the cold remains of a battlefield. He scrambled toward something-the other light-and shook it. "Henry! We gotta go, there's wraiths here!"

" I-I'm not a wraith, " she said hastily.

The soldier stared at her as she floated in place, as if she wasn't horrible enough to look at. Then, he tried hefting up his friend, weakening the soul's binding on the body in the process, before doubling over. "Shit…"

Tifa floated over and nudged the unconscious man. He was unresponsive, and his soul slid towards her touch. The soldier tried batting her away, instead receiving the chill of the grave on his skin. "Get away from him!

"...Please...just leave us alone…" The soldier shook his head, whether at her or to clear his head, Tifa wasn't sure. "I don't know what you want, just leave us alone, ghost."

"I leave you alone for a moment and you expose yourself," said Dyne's voice from behind her. "You'll take this one then, too."

She looked up at him, tiny balls of light floating about him. She faintly shook her head, then more firmly. " He doesn't belong with us. "

"D-Dyne?"

"I don't want any witnesses," Dyne warned, ignoring the soldier. He produced a cruel-looking dagger from deep within his jacket. The hilt was offered. "Too lively for our hands."

Tifa looked back and forth between them, the soldier painfully leaning closer in a nervous panic. "D-Dyne! General Dyne! I -weren't you-"

" I'm not doing it, " Tifa said in a low, firm voice. " You said the too far gone! "

Dyne narrowed his eyes. "Until you can go out on your own, you will do as I say!"

She straightened and shook her head again. " No. You can't force me to do it, not this time! "

"Listen, girl, and listen good. If you don't take them both, I'm gonna-"

Light flashed, blinding Tifa, and she heard Dyne shout an obscenity. She still couldn't see as he grabbed her ghostly arm, magical vibrations rippling through the air, the spine-tingling howl of a worg hurtling itself closer. Her vision slowly returned as a gunshot rang out, then a dozen rainbow lights billowed out towards three figures in the night.

"Let's go!"

Footsteps rushed behind them. Dyne turned around, sporadically shooting off a gun he must have had under his coat, or a wild spell that sucked the very life out of the air. "Get on your feet!" Dyne commanded.

She focused, materializing after a false start, stumbling on her feet. They came across another hastily made mass grave, a rectangular mound filled with the stinking dead. Dyne twirled around. "Come, emissaries!"

"Surrender, necromancers!" shouted a gruff voice. The man was tall, bulky, and his face was shrouded by the light he held.

"Put your hands up, before I sic him on you," said the other emissary, motioning his head towards a large, black, wolf-like monster.

Dyne lifted his hands, and the figures came closer.

Then, the mound crumbled and writhed to life as the dead soldiers rose, mottled and bloated, stumbling towards the three emissaries that had interrupted them. One opened their mouth, sandy dirt pouring out with a raspy, choked-out moan. Arms rose towards the interlopers, and soon the low groans of zombies filled the night air.

"Quickly, now. Let the grave take you home." Dyne took Tifa's arm, and they weaved through the zombies and into the pit that still had dead soldiers climbing the walls. It felt gently heavy, calling her like a soft bed after a long day. She looked back, through the zombies, before the dirt shifted under her feet.

The last thing Tifa saw before falling back into the dark safety of the Underworld was that beast, swiping at the undead, fire and holy light illuminating its black face.