Nightmares of the Soul
A fanfic by Iridal & Kaitou
Dreams of Death
That night was bad - the Crater offered another of its beautiful, but deadly, lightning storms. Because of the concentration of Mako power, the lightning turned out in many colors - pinks, greens, reds, and the normal yellow. They were also ten times more deadly if they struck...and more likely to strike than a normal storm.
Sephiroth was lying in his bed. He could not sleep. Thoughts of the next day's journey ran through his mind. He turned onto his side. How can I face them...? Finally, he sat up, the bedsheets falling to his waist. He reached under the edge of the bed and pulled out a worn-looking envelope - not old, just much handled. With shaking hands, he opened it once more.
Sephiroth -
There is new danger. The others do not know I am writing this. This new threat is too powerful if we do not have your help. Please come to 7th Heaven in Midgar.
Tifa Lockheart
Sephiroth sighed. He could only imagine what it must have taken for Tifa to write him. She had a lot of pride. He remembered meeting her for the first time...the talented martial artist who agreed to take him and his contingent to the Mako reactor...she, in a way, had begun his descent into madness. He shook his head. He couldn't think about that anymore. All he had done for the past two months was think about what he had done. There is no use living in the past, Sephiroth... He looked up in shock...he could have sworn someone just spoke to him.
After several minutes, he knew sleep wasn't going to come to him that night. He got up and decided to check around to make sure everything was in order for the journey ahead.
It was about an hour later that he finally reached the bedroom where he had put Charis for the night. He hesitated at the door, wondering if he should go in. Something told him to go in, make sure she was all right. Go... Sephiroth shook his head and looked around. What was going on?!? Finally, he pushed the door open and walked in. A small smile crept onto Sephiroth's lips. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the doorframe, studying the picture before him.
Charis had stretched herself to her full six feet on the floor, one hand resting on her sword. The blanket he had given her was around her waist, revealing her chemise-like sleeping shirt. Her beautiful auburn hair was spread out around her head like a flaming halo, and the back of one hand rested on her forehead. As he watched her, she creased her eyebrows, then shivered a few times. She must be freezing, thought Sephiroth. It is unseasonably cold, even for winter. He got down on one knee to pull the blanket over her. As he leaned down, he noticed an odd pendant that she wore. He hadn't seen it before. It was a silver chain, very strong looking but beautifully made. Attached to it was a glowing red stone carved into the shape of a sword. Gently picking it up with the tips of his fingers, Sephiroth held it up to the light. The blade was faceted, and sent sparks of multicolored lights all over the room. Looking closer, he noticed that the same dragon and runes carved onto Charis' sword were etched in minute detail here, too. He made up his mind to ask her about it when they started on their trip the next day. He placed the pendant back upon her collarbone, letting the chain pool at each side of her neck.
He reached down to pull up the blanket...but was stopped by a sudden flash of pain as images not of his life forced their way into his mind. Turning quickly to look at Charis, he could tell by the pained expression she wore that it was her nightmare he was seeing. The images bombarded him even stronger than before. Knowing better than to fight them, he just watched...
She felt the crunch of snow softly giving way under her boots as she silently crept toward the small encampment. Stopping at the perimeter, she looked around...and saw her...there...THERE...weapons drawn and ready...but she was facing the wrong way. Quietly she walked up behind the unsuspecting girl, drawing her sword as she did so. At the last minute, the target sensed her presence, and tried to turn. Prepared for this, Charis sliced a low shot across the target's abdomen. The other girl's eyes widened in shock as she vainly tried to hold in her inner organs. Slowly, her eyes found the killers...and widened even more, tearing up in disbelief.
Charis felt her face turn up into an evil smile as she cupped the other girl's chin in one brown-gloved hand. Slowly circling her, her hand still resting on the other's face, she came to a stop behind her. Leaning over, she whispered into the target's ear..."Good night..." Placing her sword on the other's neck, she prepared to...but then she felt the glove of her left hand being slowly pulled off...and a hand that was at once cold as death and warm and sticky with blood grasped hers, the blood mingling with the target's tears. Charis paused...she almost remembered...and then smiled as she drew the full length of her sword across the girl's throat and saw the spray of blood arc in a crimson rainbow across the snow.
Charis sat straight up in bed a scream caught in her throat. She fumbled for her sword...and found a hand instead. She tried to jerk away, but was pulled close...close to something very warm. She tried in vain to push against whoever held her, but the arms that encircled her were far too strong. Finally, she stopped struggling and rested her head against the chest of the man who held her. "Again...why did I have to see it again...oh god..."
Sephiroth kept her close against him. He didn't want her to see the look on his face right now. He just held the trembling warrior until sleep claimed her...which was a very long time indeed.
The next day, Charis awoke with a headache that she could not believe. Sitting up, she put her hand to her temple - and noticed that she had something clutched tightly in her fist. Opening her hand, she looked at the object inside...and narrowed her eyes in anger. How DARE he come into her ROOM?! Throwing the blankets off, she hastily put her shirt on and stalked out of her room.
Sephiroth had just finished frying the fish he had caught for their breakfast. He stood up and stretched, forgetting all the aches of the troublesome night out of his body. Suddenly, he found himself thrown against a wall, with a highly upset, half-clad girl pinning his arms behind him.
"What did you THINK you were doing in my ROOM?!?" Charis was practically two inches away from his face, growling the question low in her throat, his hairtie hanging from her hand in front of him.
Sephiroth fumbled for words. I can't tell her what I saw...she'll know I know... Casually, he answered, "I couldn't sleep. Had to get a few last minute things out of the back room. Must've dropped that when I was packing. Good thing I had an extra." Even more casually, as of to let her know who was the stronger, he threw off her hold and walked to the fire. "Want some breakfast?"
Charis stood with her back to him, her hand clenched around the piece of leather. Does he know? She slipped it into a concealed pouch under her shirt, and answered. "No. I am not hungry. I am going to go make sure my weapons are still usable." Without even turning to look at him, she stalked off.
Laughing to himself, Sephiroth sat down and began to eat his breakfast.
The ride to Nibelheim was fairly uneventful, allowing the silver haired stranger to doze as the dark Chocobo ran on to its destination. She watched the passing scenery through half lidded eyes, silently taking in the dark terrain as they passed it. The reticence between the two travelers prompted Vincent to think of what just transpired in the cave.
A woman from four hundred years in the past...and she is brought back from death, he thought. Somehow, I do not think she's feeding me lies about her origin. But what does this mean? He looked down at the woman riding before him on the Chocobo. Although Gwyn didn't say in so many words, her story implied that her life had ended, perhaps quite violently, four centuries ago. The dead brought back to life...but for what reason? It was also evident from talking with her that there were huge gaps in her memory. Vincent needed more answers from her, but not now. He could question her as much as he wished later, after they both rested.
Perhaps the evil of JENOVA was rising once more...if that was the case, his friends in Midgar definitely needed to hear her story. Either way, he would not leave her alone. Gwyn was lost in a world unknown and foreign to her, a world that carried on long after she was gone...an experience Vincent could sympathize with completely. He had thought that making up for the three decades he had lost was irritating, he could only imagine the culture shock she was bound to encounter.
Just as dawn's ruddy light touched the sleepy mountain town of Nibelheim, the travelers arrived. Leaving the suddenly fatigued woman beside the Chocobo, Vincent went to reserve a room at the quaint little inn. They would both get some much needed rest today, and could catch the ferry over to Junon the next night.
After finishing the transaction with the innkeeper, Vincent returned to Gwyn, who was on the verge of falling asleep on her feet. "Gwyn, why don't you go up to the room and rest. It's the first on the left." Nodding her acknowledgement, the young woman stumbled up the stairs.
When Vincent had finished settling the bill with the innkeeper and had roamed around the little town on various errands, he returned to the room he had reserved for himself and Gwyn. Quietly opening the door, he entered and beheld the sleeping stranger lying curled in a ball on one of the room's two beds.
She had obviously fallen asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. In her hand Gwyn clutched a silver clip, her unbound hair coming free of the tight braid she kept it in. She did not get a chance to kick off her boots before dropping off, much less get under the covers. Every so often, a tiny shiver from the chill winter air would go through her slight frame and she'd curl into an even tighter ball.
Chuckling softly to himself, Vincent unclasped his scarlet cloak and moved to lay it over the pale haired woman. It would not do to have her catch cold before she gets to share her story, he mused. Just before he could cover her up, he noticed a flash of purple from her throat. Curious now, he leaned over her to see what it was.
There, attached to a silver chain was a carved pendant that looked to be made of materia...purple materia. However, it did not appear to be like any materia he had ever seen. It was carved into the sinuous shape of a dragon coiled in the infinity symbol, and it glowed with power. "Something else unknown to add to this mystery woman," Vincent murmured softly.
With a sigh, he stalked back to his side of the room. Taking off his boots and slipping under the covers of his own bed, he fell into a light, restless slumber.
A few hours later, they had packed their things onto Sephiroth's two special-bred gold Chocobos and were on their way to Midgar. Sephiroth knew they wouldn't make it there in one day - two at the best. He also knew exactly where they were going to have to stop for the night - and he wasn't happy about it at all.
Charis was focusing more on getting used to riding again. After all, she thought, I haven't ridden in...oh...how long HAS it been?!? She did not want to ask Sephiroth - except for the necessary questions and things before leaving, she had not spoken to him since trying to take him down earlier. Finally, she decided that she had to know. "Sephiroth!!" She yelled over the icy wind of the Gaea snowfields. It was the first time she had really looked at him all day - she had been so upset. Now, looking at the dignified swordsman sitting astride a huge chicken-like creature, hair blowing in the wind, was almost too much for her to take. She started to giggle, and tried to stop. Finally, she pulled her Chocobo to a halt and just began to laugh hysterically.
Thinking something had gone wrong - he heard Charis stop behind him - Sephiroth pulled his Chocobo to a stop as well, dismounted, and walked back. He couldn't believe what he saw. Smiling and laughing, she was beautiful. Her eyes, usually so lit by Mako fire, were lit with joy as she laughed uncontrollably. Sephiroth resisted the urge to grin. "What's wrong, Charis?"
She looked up at him and tried to stop laughing. It didn't work. He had a Chocobo feather stuck in his hair. At this, she lost it, cracking up once more. "You...you...hahahha!...you look so undignified..." she said breathlessly, "riding the Chocobo...it's hysterical!!!"
Sephiroth narrowed his eyes. "You think its funny, huh? At least I don't wear clothing that looks like it was in style four centuries ago!"
Charis stopped laughing. She looked up at him, the Mako returning to her eyes. She quietly whispered, "What did you just say?" The green fire in her eyes was almost sending out sparks.
Sephiroth couldn't quite understand what had set her off. "I said, your clothing looks like it was the style worn about four hundred years ago." The look of shock on Charis' face astounded him. "What?"
"Four...hundred years...I've lost..."
"Cha..." Sephiroth opened his mouth to question her further, but she quickly mounted the Chocobo and rode off towards Midgar.
Gwyn looked up into the face of her dearest friend - one that she had shared so much with...one that she trusted most in the world - and saw nothing but intense rage. Blind hatred clouded her once vibrant green eyes and her face was twisted into a feral grin, a gross mockery of the smiles that once graced it.
The broadsword carried by her one time comrade had sliced across her gut, leaving the shocked mage fumbling to hold her innards within. Warm blood pulsed over her fingers as Gwyn tried to stop herself from bleeding. The cut was deep, and the pain cut across her mind like a knife. She could only look up in shock as her friend cupped her face in a mockery of a tender gesture.
The warrior circled behind her, the gloved hand firmly holding her head steady. Leaning down, the scornfully spoken whisper easily reached Gwyn's ears, followed by the steely length of broadsword at her throat. Not knowing how else to reach her lost friend, she reached up her fingers covered in blood and tears to the glove at her chin. The hand holding the blade almost faltered, trembling a split second in indecision, then drew the edge across her exposed neck.
Gwyn sagged to her knees in pain, her legs giving out on her as they lost strength. Her vision was dimming, losing focus even as her life was ebbing from her body. Her last sight was her horrified opponent looking down at her crumpled form in shock, then turning her own knife against herself...the blade sinking deep into her chest.
She felt so cold...
Gwyn awoke to the sound of her own sobbing. She wasn't alone, however. Strong arms gently embraced her, rocking her softly back and forth, giving her the comfort she so desperately needed. Her ear was against a chest, and she could hear a strong, steady heartbeat. The voice belonging to the presence was soft and deep, whispering over and over that it would be all right. It was Vincent.
She took a few steadying breaths to stifle the sobs still bubbling up in her throat. Somehow she felt strangely safe in this man's embrace - she could feel the terror and hopelessness drift away with the last remnants of her nightmare. He didn't ask for her to share the details, just that she'd calm down.
Only when her breathing had evened and her heart rate slowed down did he loosen his hold. Flashing Vincent a weak smile, Gwyn felt around for a cloth or blanket to wipe her tears. Finding one, she wiped away her signs of grief before she realized what she held.
"Vincent, this is your cloak...how did it get here?" She gazed up to hear his answer, allowing her to see his uncovered face for the first time. Her breath caught in wonder. His long ebon hair fell in his face, accenting the handsome features of his pale aristocratic face. Only his eyes held an otherworldly quality to them - even now, they glowed a brilliant crimson.
A faint pink stained his cheeks, evidence that whatever answer he was prepared to give, it embarrassed him. "When I came up to the room earlier, you had fallen asleep on top of the covers. You seemed cold, so I covered you."
She dropped her gaze and fought to control the telltale blush that threatened to spread across her own cheeks. "Oh...thank you Vincent."
He cleared his throat. "Yes, well...it is early afternoon, and if we push the Chocobo, we'll make it to Costa del Sol tonight." Vincent hesitantly withdrew and rose from her bed, crossing back to the window. "From there, we can take a night ferry to the mainland and we'll be in Midgar in a day or two."
Though she gave him a nod, her face betrayed her confusion. Costa del Sol? she thought. I don't recall any place named that...not that I can remember much of anything else.
Seeing her bewilderment, Vincent gave her a small smile, unaware that it was causing the young woman's heart to pound. "Perhaps we should get ready now. I'd like to continue our journey before it gets any later." He silently added, Then, if you wish to share with me, I can find out what has terrorized you so much...