Clash, a final fantasy ix fanfic

Clash
by Vincent Seyuri

Looking at you with tears in my eyes, I am enveloped with radiating energies at last. Finally, I am embraced by the power that I have desired for so long. The beauty of Trance. And it is finally mine. I wish that these moments would remain forever, yet at the same time I wish they would end. I cannot bear you looking at me like that.
Suffice to say your gaze is penetrating. I cannot deduce whether it is sorrow, fear, anger or hate to be read in those blue eyes of yours. But whatever it is, it pains my heart more than I could tell you in words. For when he, the Master, Garland, told me of his grand plan; that we would become his Angels of Death, I at first, in all my foolishness and naivete, imagined a companion. Someone to share... everything. With a common reason, we would become more than the others. Plain Genomes, soulless husks barely containing the Life the Terrans had given them. Pitiful excuses for living beings. But you and I... We would be more. We would become Angels, Reapers of Souls, Destroyers to wreak havoc upon the petty planet Gaia for our masters. But I was quickly drawn out of that illusion.
Garland said that when your powers had exceeded mine, I was to fall. And you were to rise, to become the perfect being. A true image of perfection; beyond the scope of Life and Death. And I... was to wither and die. I could not bear to hear such treachery. You, my most beloved and awaited brother, I left on Gaia, in a desperate gesture of hope that you might die before your powers surfaced. I should have known better.
And now, your eyes on me. Agony.
My lips part a little when I rise into the air, surrounded by countless voltages of energy at my will. I tear my eyes from yours, I cannot have them upon me any longer. I look to the heavens, praying to a God I do not believe in, to save you. To save all those countless souls whose lifes we have ruined. I wish to repent, but I cannot. My actions will speak for themselves.
Almost carelessly, I make a small gesture with my hand, seeing the cloth once shielding my skin rise in the currents of air created. Only seconds later, the crystal scatters in a fiery explosion that blows back my now crimson hair.
I look down at my hands, pale like Gaia's moon now. It is sad. Sad that hands that wanted only to caress now must destroy. For I must. I must annihilate this world. Any other thing is impossible. We might even call it preordained by destiny. Yes, the word sounds appropriate. Preordained.
Now filled with anger, I know my mission; to destroy! So I lash out again, wrath contorting my features. Another wave of power spreading through this forest of crystal to shatter into glittering splinters. Beautiful, merciless, unforgiving rays of light. How I wish one would stray from its path and strike me instead.
Mortal. Taste the word; it is bitter on your tongue. All this built-up agony and despair I let go of now, watching the power unleashed. And still I wish for nothing than your safety. Still I wish for nothing more than my own destruction. I will fight you when you come, beloved one; Zidane Tribal. If you won't be mine, the last thing you can do for me after this treachery is to let me be killed by your hands. For I am Mortal.
And I will die.