Rebellion walked the streets of Midgar.

People put their heads down to sleep, dissatisfied with the steel and concrete ceiling over their lives. They woke up angry enough to do something about it. There had always been protests, but in the past they had been small, sporadic, and seen as radical. Now they were daily occurrences, well coordinated marches and sit-ins numbering in the tens of thousands along the pretty streets of the upper city. Shinra called them riots but the MPs were the only ones who brought weapons.

Aerith sold flowers a couple of blocks over. Not that anyone was buying much tonight, many of the fancy shops were closed and people either rushed home from work trying to stay away from the protests or they gawked at them from a distance. She could hear the loudspeakers ordering everyone to disperse and the chanting almost drowning it out.

She wasn't technically allowed this close, but surely in the hubbub and clamour of it all nobody would be worrying about little old her.

She wanted to get closer. Planet, she wanted to join them, throw a mask on and go scream obscenities at Shinra. Maybe to even tear the mask off and stand up, bold and unashamed, for her planet. She remembered leaning back against a chocobo out in the wilderness under an expanse of stars, followed by a void in her memories. She remembered being brave enough to think she could.

She hung her head and sold a flower to a fellow on looker.

A convoy of big ugly Shinra vehicles with the SOLDIER emblem on the side rolled down the road and pulled up at the curb. She stepped back. Another onlooker bumped into her as they scurried away, knocking a bunch of orange lilies to the ground. She scowled and knelt to pick them back up.

Shiny black shoes stopped in front of her.

"What are you doing here?" Tseng asked.

"I'm working." She shoved a couple of the scattered lilies into her basket and stood, giving up the rest. "Want to buy a flower?"

He crossed his arms. "You know you can't be here. It's not safe."

"Ugh. Don't you have more important problems to worry about right now?"

"You're very important to the company, Aerith." He frowned with that patronising, knowing look he knew she hated. "You know that."

"But still a problem," she replied, cheeky as she could.

"Only when you choose to be. Come on." He took her arm and redirected her back to the train station.

SOLDIERs emerged from the black trucks and swarmed towards the protest.

"Wait," she said, pulling against him and looking back, "what's going to happen?"

The door of the truck behind Tseng opened and Sephiroth stepped out. His eyes landed immediately on Aerith.

She paused, looking back. She hadn't seen the spirit wearing his face in some time, but it struck her that the imitation was very good. Better than Rebellion's imitation of Tseng.

Sephiroth's brow lowered and he stared at her with recognition.

Oh. She blinked back at him. She probably should have figured it out sooner.

Tseng turned around to see what had caught her attention. He and Sephiroth nodded at each other. The general gave her one last ominous look then squared his shoulders and marched off.

"Let's go, Aerith." She let Tseng herd her away.

The unit of SOLDIERS disappeared towards the protesters.


Sephiroth did not draw his sword. He did not need to. The sight of him did what the water canons and tear gas could not, and convinced them to disperse.

He looked at the fallen signs they left behind, decrying Shinra's sins. None of the accusations were false or exaggerated, if anything they understated the damage. He wondered what they thought writing it down would accomplish. Maybe there was some catharsis in yelling and shaking their fists at the tower.

He envied them the luxury. He marched back to the tower. The debrief was swift, then he sat for another psych evaluation, they were growing in frequency since the truth about Project G came out, then he returned home for the night. The next day he would likely be ordered to do it all again.

Would Aerith be there then too?

He glowered over his dinner. He should not have been surprised to learn she was real, since the woman Hawke had been too, but Aerith felt more like a spirit in the Lifestream. What was she? What had she done to draw the Turks' attention?

He laid down to sleep determined to find out. He could dream on command now. It used to be a struggle to get any sleep, but now he closed his eyes and transitioned into the lifestream by simply choosing to do so.

He opened his eyes to the network of sleek metal bridges. Hawke had told him off for it, accusing him of clogging up the place. He didn't see how, the Lifestream was vast beyond reckoning. He set out upon one of the longer bridges. He passed the hideous copper statue nailed high into the cliff face, with its little campsite tucked in beneath it. Try as he might he couldn't get any bridges to land at the campsite. He had tried descending from above, but there was some kind of perspective trick frustrating his efforts.

The bridge he walked finished several meters above the field of flowers, where the sky turned white and nothing could be seen in any direction.

Strange lumps and mounds were blanketed under the pastel flowers, like vines of kudzu growing over an abandoned township. Only the glowing mirror and the incongruous wooden door stood uncovered. He jumped down.

The girl sat up from among the flowers, a leaf caught in her braid. She stared at him with more caution than she ever had before. It was a look he was accustomed to getting from civilians.

"Hi," she offered.

"You are not a spirit," he said. "Or a memory."

She stood up, straightening out her dress. "Yeah, well, neither are you."

"What are you?"

"...I don't think I should tell you."

"Why not? I helped you." He gestured at the mirror. It reflected an empty field of flowers back at them.

"Because it's none of your business." Aerith pulled her jacket tight around herself and crossed her arms.

He frowned, unsure how to proceed. He didn't converse with civilians outside of the company very often. She was a teenager, about the same age as most new Third Classes.

"What does Tseng want with you?" he asked, trying a different angle. "Does he know about this place?"

She shook her head. "No, but what about you? You shouldn't be able to do all the things you do here."

He shrugged. He had never had an answer for his power level. "I have the same capabilities here that you do."

"Yes but..." she looked down a moment, before straightening her spine. "I'm a cetra. The last one. Or at least, that's what Shinra told me."

His eyes widened.

A cetra. Like the denizens of the pearl city he had watched the Hunter slaughter? The ancient people who lived in peaceful unity with a planet without Shinra, until the sharp eared invaders cut them down.

"Shinra lies," he said.

"Yes," Aerith replied, her lips pursed.

He thought back on the memories the Lifestream had shown him. It felt as though he had been there at the Hunter's side across long centuries of conquest, he had felt her grief and triumph alike. He knew full well she was a monster, but he felt no such kinship with those she cut down.

"I don't think I'm a Cetra," he said slowly.

Aerith shrugged. "Would you know if you were?"

"What is it like?"

"I don't know." She smiled. "I've never been anything else."

He couldn't argue with that. He was a SOLDIER, a ward of the state, a specimen. He had never known what it was like to be anything else.

She uncrossed her arms and held them behind her back. She wandered off towards the wooden door in the distance. He followed.

"How's Angeal doing?" she asked.

He focused on her. There were very few people who knew what had happened.

"You healed him."

She nodded. "As much as I could. Is he alright?"

"Better than he was. How did you do it?"

"I copied an ancient Cetra technique." She opened the door and walked into the humble interior of a house.

"Can you do it again?" he asked, stepping through the door behind him. The ceiling was too low for him. She led him down a set of stairs into a dated but scrubbed clean kitchen. Stray vines brushed at the windows and stuck out of the cracks of the drawers.

Aerith sat at the dining table, where a steaming mug was waiting for her.

"Is he not getting better anymore?" she asked.

"His recovery has stalled."

She hummed. "I was going to try again anyway, but I'll need your help." She looked into the depths of the hot drink. "The spirit that showed me the technique is dangerous. I need to talk to her but I don't want to risk it alone."

He quirked an eyebrow. "How can a spirit be dangerous?"

She looked up, unamused. "Getting trapped by them is what put Angeal in a coma in the first place. If Hawke hadn't found us..."

He straightened. There was a lot of implication in that statement. Genesis was going to explain everything he had left off the mission report or Planet help him. The other name Aerith dropped got his lips twisting with distaste.

" Hawke ."

Aerith struggled to hold back a smile. "I see you've met her."

He grunted and took a seat opposite her. The chair and table should have been too short for him but somehow weren't. The Lifestream was determined to be homey in this place.

"Tell me about this dangerous spirit."

"Her name is Aega, she's a Pride spirit."

He tilted his head. "The one that lives in the pearl city watchtowers?" It couldn't have trapped Angeal and Genesis for a week, he would have noticed.

Aerith scoffed. "Of course not, all the spirits in Midgar are less than a year old. Aega is from the days before the Calamity." She crossed her arms on the tabletop and hiked up her shoulders. "She knows so much."

He nodded slowly. He had some questions for the creature himself, if that was the case.

Aerith let out a nervous breath. "I'm good at dreaming but it's full of traps. I'm not enough of a fighter."

He shook his head. "I'll go with you. It won't be a problem." He got up. "Which way is it?"

"Not tonight. We'll need to start early, it's a long journey."

They discussed their plans and agreed to set off together in a week's time when he would have the evening off. She handed him a hot chocolate, and they talked about what she was willing to share on the Cetra. She gave no information on Hawke or Genesis but the gaps their absence left in the conversation were telling. Did everyone but him know each other? She laughed and said probably.

It was a pleasant night in the Lifestream, if a little awkward. He woke up excited for the mission to the Pride spirit, and pleased to no longer be dreaming alone.


In the late morning Sephiroth met Angeal in the First Class training room. It was just the two of them in the state of the art facilities. Angeal worked to build his strength back up, doing weighted pull ups.

Sephiroth ran through kata on the training mats, Masamune flashing under the harsh lights. It wasn't truly necessary anymore but he found the familiar repetition comforting. It was pleasant to be here with Angeal again. Genesis preferred to work out in the afternoons so the long weeks where Angeal had been in a coma were terribly quiet.

Angeal let go off the bar and landed with a grunt. He was drenched in sweat, but that was normal, Angeal always sweated a lot.

He picked up his water bottle and fiddled with the screw cap lid. Sephiroth got to the end of his set and then began again. Angeal sighed and sat on one of the benches.

"I can't believe my mother was a Shinra scientist," he said.

Sephiroth glanced briefly at him so he knew he was listening, but otherwise continued without pause. They hadn't talked about it, not since the day he woke up and learned the truth. He had been both dreading the possible discussion and dreading the even worse possibility that Angeal wouldn't tell him anything and only go to Genesis with his grief.

Angeal passed the water bottle from hand to hand. "She must have had her reasons."

"Have you spoken to her?" Sephiroth asked.

"I've been meaning to call." He scowled and ducked his head, strands of damp hair falling into his face. "She obviously didn't want me to know. Perhaps I should respect that."

"She was almost certainly under an NDA. She probably still is."

"I am too. I can't legally talk to my own mother about my own birth."

"Welcome to the Shinra corporation."

Angeal scoffed. Sephiroth came to the end of another set. He lowered his sword. Angeal sat with his head leaned back against the wall, his eyes looking up.

"Get your sword," Sephiroth said. "Come on. Get up."

Angeal sighed but he did so, drawing out the Buster sword and standing opposite him. Sephirth raised an eyebrow at the rare sight of the family sword at a mere spar. Angeal didn't meet his eyes.

Their blades clashed, with little heat or urgency. Faster than the average Second Class was capable of, but neither pushing themselves. Angeal moved cautiously, wincing at impacts that shouldn't have been a strain to hold off.

"Do we really just go back to work?" he asked from the other side of the mats. "Like nothing has happened?"

"What else can we do?" Sephiroth asked, and genuinely meant it. "What is the honourable course of action, Angeal?"

"Honourable?" Angeal gave a weak, bitter laugh and threw himself forward again. "I'm a monster bred for war. How should I know what's honourable?"

Sephiroth frowned but didn't say anything. The pace picked up, but they were limited by the low ceiling and rows of equipment lining the walls. Sephiroth focused on defending himself. Angeal wasn't fighting offensively though and kept backing off, holding up the Buster sword defensively in a two handed grip.

"Maybe Genesis has the right idea, running off into the wilderness for a couple of weeks," Angeal muttered.

"Even he will have to come back to reality eventually. Then what?"

Angeal scowled. "We took oaths. This is reality."

"So what will you do?"

"I'm a SOLDIER," he said, as though it meant something. "I… there's nothing else I can do."

Sephiroth frowned at him. He could handle Genesis' pushback and righteous indignation, he did well when challenged. He didn't like Angeal's agreement with his own assessment. It sounded weak coming out of someone else's mouth.

"Is that really good enough for you?" he asked quietly.

Angeal mistimed his parry and Masamune's blunt edge cracked against his off hand.

He dropped his sword, swearing. Sephiroth stepped forward with his cure materia.

Angeal tried to wave him off, his fist still clenched and a wince on his face. Sephiroth took his hand anyway and poured a Cure spell into it. This had all started with Genesis' stupid sparring injury, he wasn't going to let there be another.

No, that wasn't right. Genesis' injury hadn't started anything, it just uncovered what was always there: Shinra's first betrayal.

Angeal's expression crumpled.

"Dammit, Sephiroth. This is wrong!"

"Yes."

He focused on the injury. He had cracked a metacarpal bone and encouraged it to mend itself. It wasn't reacting. He swallowed a dry lump in his throat and redoubled his efforts. The bone sluggishly responded, slower than an unenhanced person would react to a Cure. He could feel the hum of degradation in the crack, sinking into the bone.

Aerith had to move quickly.

"It's not healing?" Angeal asked, not looking at him.

Sephiroth shook his head.

Angeal leaned forward to rest on his shoulder. Sephiroth held him up.

"Is this really it?" Angeal muttered. "Is this all there is for us?"

The answer life had beaten into him was 'yes'. He wanted to say 'no.'

"I don't know," was all he could manage.


In the Lifestream Aerith sat in front of the mirror. She frowned at it. The beautiful, useless, rippling surface mocked her.

Sephiroth landed in the flowers next to her. She yelped and jumped. She scowled at him and up at his bridge that she knew hovered up there somewhere, just beyond the reach of her little domain and thus hidden from the ground.

"Can't you use the door?" she groused. She hadn't expected for another six days.

"Angeal is running out of time," he said. "We have to go now."

" Now ?" She climbed to her feet.

"Is there any reason why we have to wait? We have the whole night ahead of us now."

"It took seventy two hours last time."

"You got trapped last time. That won't happen with me there," he replied, with absolute confidence.

She bit her lip. Both Angeal and Genesis were the same rank and it didn't help them in the least. Hawke was away and wouldn't know to come rescue them if something went wrong. Still… Sephiroth was a very powerful dreamer, he had taught her as much about manipulating the Lifestream as Hawke had. What was the worst that could happen?

She remembered Rebellions' self satisfied smile as he took her memories away from her.

She steeled herself and took a deep breath. Aega had treated her fairly, more or less. Aerith was wiser now.

"Alright." She nodded. "Let's go."

She led the way.

Sephiroth walked at her side and they left Midgar's dreamscape behind. She remembered the route Rebellion had led her, the feel of it and the sense of destination that guided her.

The path had changed. It had been empty the first time, nothing but unformed clay. Now there was something wild to it, structures rising here and there and the atmosphere altering drastically. Stray spirits passed them, some young and curious, others far too old and clever to have been born from Shiva.

She put her head down and focused on arriving. Sephiroth moved through the Lifestream with such determination nothing dared try to stop them.

She looked up when it felt like they should have been getting close. She scanned the horizon for the glow of the giant bubble, the shield that locked all the spirits into the Sleeping Forest. She narrowed her eyes, surely they were nearly there?

They climbed a hill, and the forest stretched out before them. The bubble was gone.

Spirits still glowed and swam over the forests, but they were not so densely packed and nothing kept them in.

She halted. Oh. Oh dear. Maybe killing Sloth had done more than she intended.

"Is this it?" Sephiroth asked.

She nodded. The dense green of the forest encased the beautiful seashell palace. It looked grander now, the spikes of the shell somehow more ostentatious. She supposed that made sense, for a palace ruled by Pride.

Sephiroth set off immediately, marching down the slope and into the woods. She hesitated for a moment. It was easy for him, he didn't know how horrible it had been last time. He looked back over his shoulder with a frown. She braced herself, held her staff in her hands, and took the plunge.

The path did not wander this time, and they were not derailed with floating islands.

The trees pulled aside and they walked beneath a shifting canopy. Spirits floated overhead, whispering in languages neither spoke.

They stepped out from the forest onto a broad bridge and a bare courtyard before the palace. Last time they had been pursued by spirits wearing the faces of scientists and Templars the whole way, swords and scalpels swinging. This time the spirits watched in ominous silence.

Aerith swallowed. It was so quiet. Sephiroth walked with his head high. It was difficult to feel too afraid standing next to him. He felt dangerous, and the Lifestream put great stock in feelings.

The palace doors swung open. An airy and coldly lit throne room greeted them. Sheer green and blue curtains like the long fluttery tentacles of a jellyfish fell from the high ceiling along the walls. At the top of a towering dias on the other side of the room sat Aega.

The Pride spirit watched them walk across the long empty hall, every footstep and thud of her staff echoing off the white marble in the heavy silence. She wore the same form as last time: that of a woman with slate grey skin, curly, navy blue hair, and a wreath of horns reaching up from her temples like a spiked crown. She wore loose pink silk and a haughty, unyielding expression.

"Aerith Gainsborough," she called when they were still halfway across the hall, her voice clear and cold, "daughter of Ifalna, daughter of Talita, of the line of the Blessed Matriarch Coerla, of the Shearwater Clan."

"Aega," she replied, with a deep nod, rushing to keep up with Sephiroth's long strides. She had no idea what was expected of her here. Aega had descended to her level and bowed last time. She didn't so much as stand now.

"Did I not tell you not to bring the children of the Evanuris back into this sacred place?"

Aega wasn't even looking at her. She was scowling at Sephiroth. He looked back with an expression hard enough to rival hers.

"He isn't, he's human," Aerith replied, irritated. She's levelled the same ridiculous accusation at Hawke and Genesis. "You've been trapped here for thousands of years, the Evanuris are long gone."

"Who are the Evanuris?" Sephiroth asked, looking between the two women.

Aega sneered down at him. "Dirthara-ma."

"I'll tell you afterwards," Aerith hissed under her breath, "this isn't-"

"No, what do you know about me?" He stepped forward, one foot on the first step of the dias.

Aega leaned her chin on the back of a knuckle. "What will you give me for my knowledge?"

Sephiroth frowned. Aerith scowled at the two of them for derailing before they could even get to the subject at hand.

Sephiroth straightened his back and stood fully on the bottom step. "You will have the pride of being allied with the last cetra and SOLDIER's general."

"Hn. You must think me very young."

"What do you want then?"

Aega looked down at him, her dark eyes assessing. She rose from her throne in a flutter of silk.

"What are you proud of, Sephiroth?" She descended as she spoke, her hands held behind her back. "The nations you have brought to their knees? The little people who cower as you pass? The rank you've earned with your sweat and blood? No, these things are nothing to you." She stopped two steps above him and studied him. She was a foot taller than him without the elevation.

"The faith your friends have in you?" she asked, her voice thoughtful. "You are proud that Angeal and Genesis call you 'friend'."

"What about them?" His back was ramrod straight and his voice curt.

"Share with me your memories of them, and I will tell you everything your father has hidden from you."

"No!" Aerith cried out.

Sephiroth sent her a harsh look, but she just shook her head.

"We're not giving you any memories. You're not going to trick us like that, it's not on the table. Ask for something else."

Aega raised an eyebrow at her. "It is not a trick. I will take only what I am offered, and give only what you ask for in turn."

Aerith pursed her lips. Sure she would, she would just take advantage of any gaps they didn't specify about. "You wanted me to kill the Sloth spirit last time, we could do something like that again."

Aega gave them her back, and returned to her throne. She settled comfortably onto it and looked down at Aerith.

"What for?"

Damn. She hadn't thought of that, they'd given Aega the throne already last time,

"Aerith," Sephiroth said quietly, reproachfully, stepping back off the dias.

"We're here to cure Angeal. Aren't we? We can always come back later," she whispered back.

"If you don't trust her then why are we here?"

"Because nobody else remembers the cure. You want to learn about the Evanuris, ask Hawke."

He narrowed his eyes but nodded and looked back to the throne. Aega watched them with cunning eyes.

"You have a request?" she drawled.

Aerith stepped forward. She lowered her head to try and be polite, but then figured that a spirit of pride probably wouldn't be impressed with humility. She raised her chin and her voice.

"All I ask is to see the memory you showed me last time, of my ancestor curing the sick young elf with the singing twist of lifestream."

Aega raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?"

"Yes."

Her tilted. Aerith didn't like or understand the way she studied her. She felt the spirit brush against her mind.

"You have great faith in your ancestors," Aega said gently.

"You told me to be proud of them. I am."

"As you should be. They were more than you know. What do you offer in exchange?"

She raked her mind for something to barter with. She looked sidelong at Sephiroth who gave her a look like she'd 'forgotten' her wallet after eating a full meal out at a restaurant with her friends. She didn't think that was fair, how was she supposed to be prepared when he sprung it on her without warning?

"I'm offering, um…"

Sephiroth held out a hand, the glint of red materia stark against the washed out room. "We offer this."

Aega looked amused. "Oh? Very well, I will accept the spirit of Bahamut."

She raised a hand and the materia floated up from Sephiroth's grasp to hover in the air before her throne. She formed a fist, and a terrible cracking sound rang out. The briefest impression of scales and teeth flooded the room before it was swallowed by a flash of light and a deafening roar that died away into nothing. She released her fist with a flick.

The two halves of a dead, grey materia fell to the ground.

Aerith stared at it, horrified. Even Sephiroth looked shocked.

Aega stood. "The trade is complete." She raised a hand and the surroundings changed, they stood upon a pearly white path.

"Come," she called, and walked along the pathway into the chamber where a platform rose up out of a still, black lake. She led them up the stone steps.

Unlike almost everything else Aerith had seen of Cetra ruins, the platform was not smooth and pale like mother of pearl, it was grey stone. Deep grooves were carved into its surface in complex patterns. She felt in her bones that she walked across something tremendously old, and so very powerful. Hard shafts of light fell from above at a steep diagonal angle. It felt like a hallowed place.

Aega waited for them in the centre. Sephiroth looked to Aerith and she stepped forward.

"Let me see it."

The surroundings grew dark and indistinct, everything beyond the platform falling away. Up from the stone rose the shape of a woman and a young man on a bed with pointy ears and a waxy complexion.

Aerith felt her heart clench at the sight. Matriarch Coerla, with her long black hair, chubby cheeks, and a face made for smiling. She stood at the elf's head, raised her hands above his chest, and the air trembled with power. Aerith grabbed at Sephiroth's arm, this was it, this was the thing.

The spell sang. Raw life, living strands of lifestream pulled out from the Planet and into her hands. She twisted them, weaving it into the living energy of the elf. He gasped, unfocused eyes rolling in his head. The song got louder and brighter, more and more complex. It sounded enchanting, seductive almost, with a steady beat to it. Aerith forced herself to look, even when it grew blinding.

The elf jerked but couldn't raise his arms.

Coerla pressed the braid into his chest and the light disappeared into him. He let out a hollow breath, and colour returned to his cheeks. His eyes were still bloodshot, but he focused enough to look up at Coerla. She brushed the hair from his face. The images lost cohesion and fell away.

Aerith bit her lip. It looked like it had been in the Lifestream, not the waking side. How would she recreate that? The braid itself was so much more complicated than what she had been doing. It wasn't really even the same thing, she'd been trying to recreate a regular healing spell with the medium of raw lifestream. What Coerla had done… she didn't even recognise it.

"Wait," Sephiroth commanded.

Aega cocked her head at him. "Yes?"

"Show it again, the full image. You're holding it back."

"What am I withholding?"

He stalked towards her. "The man on the bed. Show more of him."

Aega stepped back and raised a hand.

The images rose again, Coerla and her patient. There were more details now, richer colour and texture. Aega stood opposite Coerla, lending her power.

The elf was chained down. He wasn't on a bed, it was a table. Aerith's blood ran cold.

The Matriarch brought forth the spell. The sick elf struggled to get away, but couldn't move. His eyes rolled and he whimpered as the song rose all around him. The song that called and twisted, life bent into a cunning new shape. Across countless millennia it was still reaching out for anything it could touch. The raw lifestream in Coerla's hands wove around the strands of the elf's spirit energy, until it was a part of him.

She pushed it into his chest and corrupted life hummed alongside his heartbeat, a secret little passenger. Aerith clapped a hand across her mouth.

The elf regained his colour and his eyes focused on the cetra. She looked down at him. Coerla's face, made for smiling, looked at him without pity.

The images faded away again.

"Have you seen the full image now, Sephiroth?" Aega asked.

"You were there," Sephiroth said, devoid of all emotion.

"Yes."

"You made a bioweapon."

"The Cetra defended themselves. The Elvhen worked horrors upon them without remorse, why should they have stayed their hand in retribution? The Evanuris reached out in pride and were rewarded."

Aerith couldn't say anything. She stared at the empty platform.

"And Genesis and Angeal are casualties of your war. Thousands of years later."

"You are not casualties, you are the intended target, son of Andruil."

"Stop it," Aerith forced out.

"Son of who?"

"The Calamity. Heir of death and ruination, you are an infection upon the land. You will die as surely as your friends."

"Stop it," Aerith yelled.

Sephiroth's sword flashed through the air.

Aerith stumbled back out of the way. Aega charged him, electrical whips crackling.

Sephiroth dodged the first blow and grabbed the second strike of the whip from the air, shrugging off the blast of electricity. He hauled the weapon out of her hands and threw it away. He swung and took off one of her arms. Aega snarled, nothing human in her face. She dragged her other hand through the air and magic warped around him.

He ducked beneath the blast and grabbed Aega by the neck.

"Who is Andruil?" he demanded.

She grabbed at his head and entropic magic roared. He crushed her throat.

There was a crack. Aega cried out with a voice like stone grating against itself before she was swallowed by a flash of light. The spirit shattered in Sephiroth's hands.

The dream collapsed.


A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated.

Next Time: Grey Warden Dreams