To Aeris, her reunion with conscious thought was activated like a light
switch. One second off, the other, on.
The last few moments of her life were clear to her, like a slide shot of photographs laid out across a screen, each movement spliced into fragmented cells, the last traces of her life moving in rapidly slow motion as to highlight the importance of such a tragedy. Yet she could not fathom just who she was. She felt no fear, no pain, nothing at all when she watched the final seconds of her life tick before her eyes, because she knew that whatever life she had left could not compare to the Eden she was in now. And whoever else was a part of that short-lived timeline would not alter that. And yet she could not shake the idea that there was something missing in this long awaited peace. Something this heaven lacked that was vital and most dear to her.
It was like an empty and hollow feeling at the back of her throat, a hunger ebbing at the insides of her spirit that she couldn't subside with food or drink. When a soul craves nourishment, it goes deeper than the inner confines of organs, it's rooted deep within the core of someone's being, twisting and demanding to be noticed like an impatient child begging for a toy. No matter how often she tried to push this yearning to the back of her mind and focus on the sheer bliss that emanated from the realm she was now in, she just could not get rid of that hidden desire. She felt ashamed, as if it somehow had left a blemish on her soul-a scar for all to see and gasp at and look away in horror from. She felt abashed to have such a stain contaminate her immortal essence, yet despite her best attempts she could not expunge herself completely of this feeling. It wasn't right, she knew, for spirits to cling like flies to the dead to their past lives, for she had long discovered that there was nothing to be done about what she was or what had befallen her. These things did not and should not concern the being she was now.
And yet.she did not fully understand what she was. If she tried to look down at her hands all she would see was what she remembered her hands looked like, rather than what they did look like. She wanted to see herself as she was now-as the immortal being who was free from the ties of humanity and their petty dilemma's that were simply meaningless when observed from a spirit's point of view. She wanted to see what had befallen her in her countless odysseys throughout this spiritual wonderland, yet she was damned to see what she was, the very essence she could never again be. It was maddening, this inability to view yourself through the present but the shadows of the past. She feared she would grow mad from her handicap. Why should she be prevented from such a harmless thing as seeing who you are? Aren't you the same whether or not you are alive or.or.
What am I? She thought at last, staring down at her outstretched hands before her. Surely she wasn't human because they had no problem seeing themselves as they presently were-although they often hid behind their own façade's of what type of person they really were. She flexed the muscles in her hand, seeing and feeling the skin contract and stretch over the bone. Or perhaps she imagined herself seeing and feeling it because she surely could not do such things in her current state.
A ghastly thought occurred to her as she peered dismally into the shapeless abyss of her hands. Where they there? Was this sensation real, or a figment of her imagination, her mind that still clung desperately to the life she left behind, abandoned? Why did such thoughts puzzle her now, when she had countless aeons to ponder such nonsense as whether or not she was real? What am I? She questioned again, the words echoing deep within her soul and causing her eyes to tear. What eyes? She wondered madly. What tears? What emotions am I feeling that causes such a stir within me? What is this 'me'?!
Her thoughts became frenzied and disheveled, spread across the swirling ashen abyss sky that was all around her, that was in her, that was her. Her heart twanged with lament as she thought such obscenities, a grief so strong it resonated throughout her essence like the trill of a musical note long since played yet echoed on eternally in the empty hollows of a soul.
And am I like such a beast? A vacant, lifeless creature damned to grasp to the life she was so abruptly pulled from? What matters of sin did I commit to be cursed to such ignorance? TELL ME! WHAT WAS MY SIN! To whom she was screaming to, she could not say. Such questions had been plaguing her recently to the point of hysteria so alarming that it frightened the other essences around her-they all dreaded coming near to her now. She never felt so utterly abandoned and empty as she did right now, and such feelings caused her mind to whirl with delirious thoughts and accusations-that none of this was real, it never was and life was just a dream conjured by a slumbering god. As if all life were spawned from the notions of Endymion's dormant imagination, and death was a counter method to balance such an effect.
How truly horrid, she thought and felt her essence shrink into melancholy. Is it possible to be dead yet still cling so fervently to life? Did not the despairing evangelist clasp to its beliefs and dogma's despite the harsh truth of science and common knowledge that shrunk such creed to inadequacy? Didn't the damned convince themselves that they were the pariah offspring of a holy being, rather than admit that they chose such an accursed existence?
Am I damned? She wondered morosely. Am I a substance that can be damned? Am I so beyond life and the mortal coils that bind us to humanity that I surpass any categorization such as Good or Evil? She grew frustrated and imagined herself clenching her fists. Who do I ask these things to! There is no one here but me! And I cannot look within for such answers! I.cannot. Despair greater than any she had ever experienced took hold of her and smothered her senses, forcing her to collapse momentarily in blind sorrow and sobs that echoed throughout the swirling, shapeless abyss she thrived in. Someone.anything.tell me where I am?
The force of another essence struck her like a warm stream of consciousness, like when she was praying at the church in the slums of Midgar or kneeling at the sacred altar of the Forgotten City. There was the few seconds of utter loneliness then suddenly the sensation of something next to her. It was quite alarming and surely something she would never grow used to.
She struggled to make out just whom or what was standing before her, yet she could not imagine what she had not seen or did not know. Her mind drew a blank at the whirling matterless tendrils that slithered and curled in the atmosphere before her. Resolutely she glared up into the abyss and concentrated all her thought on the demand: Who/What are you?
The essence paused before opening itself up to her, and when it did she felt a small shiver creep up from the base of her spine and coil around her entire being. It's ice cold tendrils ensnaring her consciousness as she closed her eyes, she slowly tilted her head back and viewed the past through the memories of the essence before her.
Fires, wars, murder, blood, manipulation, subjugation, death, rebirth, life, regeneration, destruction, cloning-all this the essence had either been a part of or spawned, and such brutal honesty about its former self caused her to shiver with a cold dread. She imagined herself doubled over in pain; her arms were wrapped around herself as if she meant to embrace herself to keep the cold out, when suddenly the pain in her back exploded. She couldn't scream even if she tried, yet her mouth expanded and a hoarse, choked cry escaped her throat as she carefully pulled her hands away from the wet, hot substance pouring out of her abdomen. The pain in her back spread like liquid fire throughout her body and digging itself deep within her soul, binding her to the pain like it was the needle and she the thread. She imagined herself looking down and seeing a bone white spear jutting out of her belly, right below the belly button, slicing right through the womb as if such a wound were intended. At first she was confused-Why did it hurt so much?-but then she felt it slip into a blissful numb state that none of this mattered. She stared in horror at the blood only she could see spewing and purging from the horizontal lesion within her flesh, and her eyes clouded with tears and the glossy veil of death.
She looked up, her eyes narrowed in terror and utter abhorrence as she dug up every trace of malice and venom she could, and cried, YOU! She spat up at the essence, and she felt that her soul stained with an alien malevolence that it caused an uproarious tumult in the other spirits around her. Yet the moment she had cried that one word, as if it could sum up all the events of horror and mayhem this being had somehow been associated with, she felt a ripple of realization course through her. It wasn't the same being, that murderer of her dream and the tendril abyss that swayed before her, so it would be foolish to accuse it of such scandalous acts. They weren't the same person.
The essence seemed to nod-or rather, she imagined it doing so.
Resolutely she shook her head against such thoughts. She envisioned herself pushing her hand to her pounding forehead, fighting against the painful throb that pulsated beneath the skin. No.if you're not the same than I'm not. Despairingly she gazed up at the abyss and batted away tears from her eyes. Why do you show me such things? Was I such a creature? Did I do this? TELL ME!
Although she had never heard his real voice until now, she felt as if she should know this man, should know every minute detail about him down to his manner of speech and his voice. And yet she could not picture his face! You speak in riddles, Cetra. I bring you no harm-
Then why do you cloak yourself from me? She demanded and rose to her feet as she glared icily up into the shapeless matter that floated before her. If you bring me no harm then show yourself!
Again, hesitation. I cannot.
Cannot or will not? She replied coldly.
Ah, you speak such harsh words, Cetra. You are unlike yourself.
This gave her a moment's pause. Her lower lip quivered and her eyes watered with tears in dismay, flowing out and down her face. She pushed the heels of her palms into her eyes and sobbed, Do you know what I was? If so why do you toy with me like this? Just tell me who I was so that I can be who I am!
I cannot speak so intimately of who or what you were, for I did not know you long enough in life. So to with all of my victims, I'm afraid.
She grew angry once more. So you would kill that which you did not know!
Ah, untrue. I killed what I could not and did not understand. You, Cetra, I couldn't begin to fathom. You were a puzzle of sorts. I fear I do not like puzzles. So to with humans.whimsical creatures, they are. Acting out of some inner indulgence rather than the good of a whole or a planet. Pity I did not kill more.
And you chide me for brutality?
Laughter, warm and soft like a kiss. You misread me-
I cannot misread what I cannot see.
-what I meant was that with every kill I had a deeper, more profound understanding for the substance that I murdered. When the last bit of life was drained from the body I felt as if I had witnessed some great ascension of the soul-yet I soon desired to evolve in this matter. I wanted to know what the dead knew; I craved their knowledge and infinite understanding of the absurd. And such a thirst led me to you.
Me? If she had eyes, she would have blinked in shock. How utterly absurd. Do explain yourself.
With pleasure, the essence replied happily. You see, you could commune with the spirits that had been transformed through this ascension, and despite what was documented about me I could not. Your race claimed to speak with the Planet when really all you possessed was a talent to communicate to the dead. A power that I craved beyond all sense. They had experienced such enlightenment, well why couldn't I! What made them so damned special that they were free of all wonder and ignorance, yet just because I still possessed a heartbeat I was not allowed to know such mysteries! The essence paused as if to sigh. And that is what lead me to you, dearest Cetra. Killing you would allow me to see everything the spirits had seen, know what they know and understand what they did. It was an enchanting opportunity of sorts, I might say, along with enslaving the very same creatures that had imprisoned my matriarch and me a few thousand years after our descend from the heavens.
But I speak of matters that don't concern you. What does concern you, Cetra, is life. Ah, life. The essence reflected on its words and she had the distinct feeling that it was studying her curiously. Nervously she shifted. Of course you would desire such a thing. It murmured thoughtfully to itself. All Cetra's desire what they give, and that is what you spread to those around you.
Now it is you who speak in riddles. She stared inquiringly up at the essence she could not see and blinked in wonder. If I give life, why aren't I still alive?
A Cetra's powers are never reflected on itself. The essence replied. You give off a gentle, peaceful glow that is absorbed by others and gives them a blissful, lucid feeling. To those on the brink of death-in the mental and physical aspects-you breathe life into their dormant hearts. Take the church in the slums for example-you distributed life into soil that was barren, or my apt pupil Cloud as another-you made him feel what it was truly like to be alive.
Cloud. The name caused her heart to stir in a mixture of lucidity and hungry desire. It was as if the missing piece in her heart had been stitched up with that very name. She closed her eyes and let the emotions that name spawned seep through her like liquid fire, warming the stagnant particles of her shell. What do you mean? How did I do this?
The essence smiled, or she imagined it did so because its tone was light and mildly cheerful. All in the mysterious workings of the Cetra, little one. I cannot explain what I have not learned through murder and ascension, so I won't pretend to give you answers that I cannot comprehend. However. It paused, contemplating its words carefully. You crave life and the ability to know what you are, correct?
Yes.she began timidly. But-
Very well. The essence came closer to her and expanded in height and width until it surged all around her, its gray tendrils lashing out and stroking her cold spirit. She drew back in fear and the intrusion of warmth, her mind reeling with panic. I can give you what I took from you.
And how if all you know is death! She demanded vehemently, batting uselessly at the tendrils that jumped out for her. You said it yourself-you cannot do what you cannot understand! You cannot give life if you don't understand it.
Ah, wrong again, impulsive beauty. I also stated that I will not pretend to explain what I do not know. I admit to being quite ignorant to the fundamentals and truths of life-this in one thing the spirits have not taught me-but there is one who does.
She meant to ask who, but there was no need. She knew who such a person was in the very core of her soul. She closed her eyes and whispered his name. Does he, really? She whispered softly.
He learned from the best-you.
What do you propose to do? She struggled to hide her emotions, the tantrum that thundered through her now at the very thought of Cloud and somehow being reunited with him again.
Why, reunite you of course! Soul mates can only survive so long without the other, and I fear that he is not surviving very well.
What?
It's the Reunion, Cetra. Brace yourself.
Aeris parted her lips to speak out, but all conscious thought was erased from her mind. Her spirit became a thoughtless mass swaying inside the gray abyss that now tore her into shreds, pulling her from the spirit world of the Promised Land and surpassing dimensions to return her to the spot of her decease. The Forgotten City.
All was black and vacant and Aeris felt a great weight being removed from within her chest as her spirit billowed out through her cold body and the heart fluttered to life, pumping the ice cold blood through her veins and throughout her system. She felt her body gasp for air, her lungs burning and aching for it as she punched her fist through the carmine liquid that had settled around her, choking her lungs and pressing down on her. Struggling to rise to the surface Aeris' head crested the gelatinous matter as her lips parted and gasped for air, her nostrils flared as she breathed in deeply the intoxicating aroma of the air she had so long lived without. Sputtering and hacking up the rose liquid as she paddled towards the shore, Aeris gasped and blinked and spoke with such reverence he felt it in his soul miles north in Icicle Inn. "Cloud," she whispered and clung to the earthen surface of the shore with her nails.
The last few moments of her life were clear to her, like a slide shot of photographs laid out across a screen, each movement spliced into fragmented cells, the last traces of her life moving in rapidly slow motion as to highlight the importance of such a tragedy. Yet she could not fathom just who she was. She felt no fear, no pain, nothing at all when she watched the final seconds of her life tick before her eyes, because she knew that whatever life she had left could not compare to the Eden she was in now. And whoever else was a part of that short-lived timeline would not alter that. And yet she could not shake the idea that there was something missing in this long awaited peace. Something this heaven lacked that was vital and most dear to her.
It was like an empty and hollow feeling at the back of her throat, a hunger ebbing at the insides of her spirit that she couldn't subside with food or drink. When a soul craves nourishment, it goes deeper than the inner confines of organs, it's rooted deep within the core of someone's being, twisting and demanding to be noticed like an impatient child begging for a toy. No matter how often she tried to push this yearning to the back of her mind and focus on the sheer bliss that emanated from the realm she was now in, she just could not get rid of that hidden desire. She felt ashamed, as if it somehow had left a blemish on her soul-a scar for all to see and gasp at and look away in horror from. She felt abashed to have such a stain contaminate her immortal essence, yet despite her best attempts she could not expunge herself completely of this feeling. It wasn't right, she knew, for spirits to cling like flies to the dead to their past lives, for she had long discovered that there was nothing to be done about what she was or what had befallen her. These things did not and should not concern the being she was now.
And yet.she did not fully understand what she was. If she tried to look down at her hands all she would see was what she remembered her hands looked like, rather than what they did look like. She wanted to see herself as she was now-as the immortal being who was free from the ties of humanity and their petty dilemma's that were simply meaningless when observed from a spirit's point of view. She wanted to see what had befallen her in her countless odysseys throughout this spiritual wonderland, yet she was damned to see what she was, the very essence she could never again be. It was maddening, this inability to view yourself through the present but the shadows of the past. She feared she would grow mad from her handicap. Why should she be prevented from such a harmless thing as seeing who you are? Aren't you the same whether or not you are alive or.or.
What am I? She thought at last, staring down at her outstretched hands before her. Surely she wasn't human because they had no problem seeing themselves as they presently were-although they often hid behind their own façade's of what type of person they really were. She flexed the muscles in her hand, seeing and feeling the skin contract and stretch over the bone. Or perhaps she imagined herself seeing and feeling it because she surely could not do such things in her current state.
A ghastly thought occurred to her as she peered dismally into the shapeless abyss of her hands. Where they there? Was this sensation real, or a figment of her imagination, her mind that still clung desperately to the life she left behind, abandoned? Why did such thoughts puzzle her now, when she had countless aeons to ponder such nonsense as whether or not she was real? What am I? She questioned again, the words echoing deep within her soul and causing her eyes to tear. What eyes? She wondered madly. What tears? What emotions am I feeling that causes such a stir within me? What is this 'me'?!
Her thoughts became frenzied and disheveled, spread across the swirling ashen abyss sky that was all around her, that was in her, that was her. Her heart twanged with lament as she thought such obscenities, a grief so strong it resonated throughout her essence like the trill of a musical note long since played yet echoed on eternally in the empty hollows of a soul.
And am I like such a beast? A vacant, lifeless creature damned to grasp to the life she was so abruptly pulled from? What matters of sin did I commit to be cursed to such ignorance? TELL ME! WHAT WAS MY SIN! To whom she was screaming to, she could not say. Such questions had been plaguing her recently to the point of hysteria so alarming that it frightened the other essences around her-they all dreaded coming near to her now. She never felt so utterly abandoned and empty as she did right now, and such feelings caused her mind to whirl with delirious thoughts and accusations-that none of this was real, it never was and life was just a dream conjured by a slumbering god. As if all life were spawned from the notions of Endymion's dormant imagination, and death was a counter method to balance such an effect.
How truly horrid, she thought and felt her essence shrink into melancholy. Is it possible to be dead yet still cling so fervently to life? Did not the despairing evangelist clasp to its beliefs and dogma's despite the harsh truth of science and common knowledge that shrunk such creed to inadequacy? Didn't the damned convince themselves that they were the pariah offspring of a holy being, rather than admit that they chose such an accursed existence?
Am I damned? She wondered morosely. Am I a substance that can be damned? Am I so beyond life and the mortal coils that bind us to humanity that I surpass any categorization such as Good or Evil? She grew frustrated and imagined herself clenching her fists. Who do I ask these things to! There is no one here but me! And I cannot look within for such answers! I.cannot. Despair greater than any she had ever experienced took hold of her and smothered her senses, forcing her to collapse momentarily in blind sorrow and sobs that echoed throughout the swirling, shapeless abyss she thrived in. Someone.anything.tell me where I am?
The force of another essence struck her like a warm stream of consciousness, like when she was praying at the church in the slums of Midgar or kneeling at the sacred altar of the Forgotten City. There was the few seconds of utter loneliness then suddenly the sensation of something next to her. It was quite alarming and surely something she would never grow used to.
She struggled to make out just whom or what was standing before her, yet she could not imagine what she had not seen or did not know. Her mind drew a blank at the whirling matterless tendrils that slithered and curled in the atmosphere before her. Resolutely she glared up into the abyss and concentrated all her thought on the demand: Who/What are you?
The essence paused before opening itself up to her, and when it did she felt a small shiver creep up from the base of her spine and coil around her entire being. It's ice cold tendrils ensnaring her consciousness as she closed her eyes, she slowly tilted her head back and viewed the past through the memories of the essence before her.
Fires, wars, murder, blood, manipulation, subjugation, death, rebirth, life, regeneration, destruction, cloning-all this the essence had either been a part of or spawned, and such brutal honesty about its former self caused her to shiver with a cold dread. She imagined herself doubled over in pain; her arms were wrapped around herself as if she meant to embrace herself to keep the cold out, when suddenly the pain in her back exploded. She couldn't scream even if she tried, yet her mouth expanded and a hoarse, choked cry escaped her throat as she carefully pulled her hands away from the wet, hot substance pouring out of her abdomen. The pain in her back spread like liquid fire throughout her body and digging itself deep within her soul, binding her to the pain like it was the needle and she the thread. She imagined herself looking down and seeing a bone white spear jutting out of her belly, right below the belly button, slicing right through the womb as if such a wound were intended. At first she was confused-Why did it hurt so much?-but then she felt it slip into a blissful numb state that none of this mattered. She stared in horror at the blood only she could see spewing and purging from the horizontal lesion within her flesh, and her eyes clouded with tears and the glossy veil of death.
She looked up, her eyes narrowed in terror and utter abhorrence as she dug up every trace of malice and venom she could, and cried, YOU! She spat up at the essence, and she felt that her soul stained with an alien malevolence that it caused an uproarious tumult in the other spirits around her. Yet the moment she had cried that one word, as if it could sum up all the events of horror and mayhem this being had somehow been associated with, she felt a ripple of realization course through her. It wasn't the same being, that murderer of her dream and the tendril abyss that swayed before her, so it would be foolish to accuse it of such scandalous acts. They weren't the same person.
The essence seemed to nod-or rather, she imagined it doing so.
Resolutely she shook her head against such thoughts. She envisioned herself pushing her hand to her pounding forehead, fighting against the painful throb that pulsated beneath the skin. No.if you're not the same than I'm not. Despairingly she gazed up at the abyss and batted away tears from her eyes. Why do you show me such things? Was I such a creature? Did I do this? TELL ME!
Although she had never heard his real voice until now, she felt as if she should know this man, should know every minute detail about him down to his manner of speech and his voice. And yet she could not picture his face! You speak in riddles, Cetra. I bring you no harm-
Then why do you cloak yourself from me? She demanded and rose to her feet as she glared icily up into the shapeless matter that floated before her. If you bring me no harm then show yourself!
Again, hesitation. I cannot.
Cannot or will not? She replied coldly.
Ah, you speak such harsh words, Cetra. You are unlike yourself.
This gave her a moment's pause. Her lower lip quivered and her eyes watered with tears in dismay, flowing out and down her face. She pushed the heels of her palms into her eyes and sobbed, Do you know what I was? If so why do you toy with me like this? Just tell me who I was so that I can be who I am!
I cannot speak so intimately of who or what you were, for I did not know you long enough in life. So to with all of my victims, I'm afraid.
She grew angry once more. So you would kill that which you did not know!
Ah, untrue. I killed what I could not and did not understand. You, Cetra, I couldn't begin to fathom. You were a puzzle of sorts. I fear I do not like puzzles. So to with humans.whimsical creatures, they are. Acting out of some inner indulgence rather than the good of a whole or a planet. Pity I did not kill more.
And you chide me for brutality?
Laughter, warm and soft like a kiss. You misread me-
I cannot misread what I cannot see.
-what I meant was that with every kill I had a deeper, more profound understanding for the substance that I murdered. When the last bit of life was drained from the body I felt as if I had witnessed some great ascension of the soul-yet I soon desired to evolve in this matter. I wanted to know what the dead knew; I craved their knowledge and infinite understanding of the absurd. And such a thirst led me to you.
Me? If she had eyes, she would have blinked in shock. How utterly absurd. Do explain yourself.
With pleasure, the essence replied happily. You see, you could commune with the spirits that had been transformed through this ascension, and despite what was documented about me I could not. Your race claimed to speak with the Planet when really all you possessed was a talent to communicate to the dead. A power that I craved beyond all sense. They had experienced such enlightenment, well why couldn't I! What made them so damned special that they were free of all wonder and ignorance, yet just because I still possessed a heartbeat I was not allowed to know such mysteries! The essence paused as if to sigh. And that is what lead me to you, dearest Cetra. Killing you would allow me to see everything the spirits had seen, know what they know and understand what they did. It was an enchanting opportunity of sorts, I might say, along with enslaving the very same creatures that had imprisoned my matriarch and me a few thousand years after our descend from the heavens.
But I speak of matters that don't concern you. What does concern you, Cetra, is life. Ah, life. The essence reflected on its words and she had the distinct feeling that it was studying her curiously. Nervously she shifted. Of course you would desire such a thing. It murmured thoughtfully to itself. All Cetra's desire what they give, and that is what you spread to those around you.
Now it is you who speak in riddles. She stared inquiringly up at the essence she could not see and blinked in wonder. If I give life, why aren't I still alive?
A Cetra's powers are never reflected on itself. The essence replied. You give off a gentle, peaceful glow that is absorbed by others and gives them a blissful, lucid feeling. To those on the brink of death-in the mental and physical aspects-you breathe life into their dormant hearts. Take the church in the slums for example-you distributed life into soil that was barren, or my apt pupil Cloud as another-you made him feel what it was truly like to be alive.
Cloud. The name caused her heart to stir in a mixture of lucidity and hungry desire. It was as if the missing piece in her heart had been stitched up with that very name. She closed her eyes and let the emotions that name spawned seep through her like liquid fire, warming the stagnant particles of her shell. What do you mean? How did I do this?
The essence smiled, or she imagined it did so because its tone was light and mildly cheerful. All in the mysterious workings of the Cetra, little one. I cannot explain what I have not learned through murder and ascension, so I won't pretend to give you answers that I cannot comprehend. However. It paused, contemplating its words carefully. You crave life and the ability to know what you are, correct?
Yes.she began timidly. But-
Very well. The essence came closer to her and expanded in height and width until it surged all around her, its gray tendrils lashing out and stroking her cold spirit. She drew back in fear and the intrusion of warmth, her mind reeling with panic. I can give you what I took from you.
And how if all you know is death! She demanded vehemently, batting uselessly at the tendrils that jumped out for her. You said it yourself-you cannot do what you cannot understand! You cannot give life if you don't understand it.
Ah, wrong again, impulsive beauty. I also stated that I will not pretend to explain what I do not know. I admit to being quite ignorant to the fundamentals and truths of life-this in one thing the spirits have not taught me-but there is one who does.
She meant to ask who, but there was no need. She knew who such a person was in the very core of her soul. She closed her eyes and whispered his name. Does he, really? She whispered softly.
He learned from the best-you.
What do you propose to do? She struggled to hide her emotions, the tantrum that thundered through her now at the very thought of Cloud and somehow being reunited with him again.
Why, reunite you of course! Soul mates can only survive so long without the other, and I fear that he is not surviving very well.
What?
It's the Reunion, Cetra. Brace yourself.
Aeris parted her lips to speak out, but all conscious thought was erased from her mind. Her spirit became a thoughtless mass swaying inside the gray abyss that now tore her into shreds, pulling her from the spirit world of the Promised Land and surpassing dimensions to return her to the spot of her decease. The Forgotten City.
All was black and vacant and Aeris felt a great weight being removed from within her chest as her spirit billowed out through her cold body and the heart fluttered to life, pumping the ice cold blood through her veins and throughout her system. She felt her body gasp for air, her lungs burning and aching for it as she punched her fist through the carmine liquid that had settled around her, choking her lungs and pressing down on her. Struggling to rise to the surface Aeris' head crested the gelatinous matter as her lips parted and gasped for air, her nostrils flared as she breathed in deeply the intoxicating aroma of the air she had so long lived without. Sputtering and hacking up the rose liquid as she paddled towards the shore, Aeris gasped and blinked and spoke with such reverence he felt it in his soul miles north in Icicle Inn. "Cloud," she whispered and clung to the earthen surface of the shore with her nails.