Dawn.
"This will be the last time I see the sun rise," she whispered solemnly as she stood, hands placed on her windowsill.
She watched the waking world beyond the glass panes, trying to forget the gruesome void that had formed in her heart. She had always been so full of hope, so full of willingness toward the future. The dank, suffocated atmosphere of the slums in which she had grown up had offered little promise for a happy ending to her life. Hope had been her only ration in a starving world; but now, she was helpless. That hope was gone. The light that had always guided her was extinguished, its ashes cold and dead.
She stepped away reluctantly, experiencing a reaction almost alike to being torn away from a perfect dream to heed the beckoning of harsh reality. But there was no turning back, no going back to sleep. She would not have the situation any other way, she assured herself. That gap would soon be filled, when she found eternal happiness.
Yes, happiness, she thought, but only after great pain.
Aeris sighed and turned away. She silently opened her door, being especially careful so as to not wake the innkeeper. If Cloud and the others were following her, and came to this very inn seeking information on her whereabouts, she did not want to leave them any verification as to when she had left. AVALANCHE was to be left no trail, it would be conveniently swept clean, and their road would be blocked, at least until the time when it no longer mattered.
The old floorboards creaked, even under her light weight, and she paused, wincing in fear that another door would open and she would be discovered. But nothing happened. The hallway remained deadly silent. She attempted to lighten her gait until she reached the stairs, where she descended as quickly as she could. Passing the front desk, she forced a handful of gil out of her coat pocket and gently but firmly placed it on the counter. Nodding to herself, she found the entry door, opened it, and stepped through it into the cool morning air.
- - - - - - - - - -
After hearing the sound of the second door being closed, Sephiroth counted mentally ten seconds before rising, and gradually making his way out of the inn as well.
She had already passed into the trees, and was nearly out of sight as Sephiroth emerged into the outside world. He paced after her, being extra careful to silence his footsteps. The small village around him was just beginning to awaken. Tent flaps were being thrown up, lanterns and campfires were being extinguished, workers were grumbling about the start of yet another day of work.
Sephiroth followed her easily. She moved quickly, but on a predictable path, through the trees. She avoided the areas of dense underbrush and the paths overgrown with thick, protruding roots. At times, when he felt he was drawing too near to her, Sephiroth would be forced to take these alternate routes to allow a larger gap between them. He grimaced and scowled in disgust as he stumbled and scurried through the undergrowth, wishing against anything and everything that he had his beloved Masamune blade.
It was fifteen minutes or more of travel in this way, until all movement ahead of him came to an abrupt halt, along with the Cetra girl. He nearly shivered; the silence was so complete. Not a bird stirred in the trees above, not a breeze rustled the branches. Everything was as still as stone. He immediately quieted his breathing. The dream, he realized, had failed to prepare him for this.
The girl, meanwhile, had paused, only to bow her head, and clasp her hands together. Sephiroth winced as he watched her. The absence of nature-of sound in general, was driving him insane. The atmosphere, here, in this area of the forest, was so silent it was as if the area were dead. Dead or...distilled in a death-like sleep.
Sleep.
The Sleeping Forest.
So it was true. Sephiroth had heard of this mysterious place many a time from excited SOLDIER recruits en route to a mission. Huddled together often in a truck or a plane, they would mutter amongst themselves of the stories they had grown up listening to. In an effort to lift the spirits of their fellow comrades-something Sephiroth despised-they would tell these tall tales. To Sephiroth, these moments were, thankfully, short, but, as he realized now, very informative.
One soldier's story involved the Sleeping Forest. It was quiet, he had said, in order to never disturb the ancient trees. It was a curse, he had said, that the Ancients had placed on it, to guard the entry to their capital. If one sought passage through the trees, they would have to awaken them. If the trees were awoken in a gentle manner, they would yield to the traveler and prepare a pathway. If they were awoken in a destructive manner, they would lead the traveler to his death. And, of course, if they weren't awakened at all, the traveler would lose his mind in the silence of the forest, trying to find the way out, wandering aimlessly until he could no longer walk.
He wondered what route the Cetra would take. No matter what she did, he would have to follow her even more closely, and that was a risk. He was unarmed, without a weapon and without materia, and the girl looked ripe with both. Though small, she was Cetra, and that in its own was enough for him.
Lost in his thoughts, Sephiroth's eyes darted to the girl when he noticed her begin to kneel upon the ground.
What are you doing? he thought.
In a moment, he received his answer. He could not see them, could not feel them, but their voices were as clear as a ringing bell. Many, many celestial-like voices murmuring, some shouting, others pleading. They filled the air, they filled the sky, and they filled the trees. He watched, breathlessly, as the Cetra rose, her back completely toward him. Where only moments before there had been endless forest, a path emerged in front of her. Several feet of lush vegetation had long since overgrown the road, but it was still easily distinguishable.
The girl began to walk. Sephiroth began to follow, briskly, in fear the trees would swallow him upon his passage. Just how long has it been since this path was last used? he wondered. A thousand years, at least, since it was used by them.
It had been, of course, their voices that had responded to the girl. The Cetra. The Ancients. Nurturers and speakers of the Planet. Until they had met their untimely end, and had ceased to exist. Sephiroth remembered, vaguely, reading something about them. It had been just before his fall into the Mako in the reactor, he remembered. But he could not remember what it was that he had read.
The trek through the forest seemed to end prematurely; not five minutes later, and he had come upon a beautiful valley. Across from the river at the bottom, there was a giant white tree. Surrounding it were the remains of a once-grand city, on pieces of land in the water. These islands were filled with shell-like structures that resembled houses. This was Corral Valley. To the west, he could see the roadway leading to Corral Cave. The Cetra girl had already begun to descend a paved pathway into the Ancient Capital, not bothering to take in the scenery as he had.
A thought struck him as he followed her. That surreal version of himself-he had pledged to follow her, just as he was doing. Suppose that version was close upon them right now? Or was he already here? Worse yet, another question that he attempted to erase from his mind in fear of more, drastic confusion: what if he wasthat version of himself, and he had failed to see it coming, failed to not fall as fate swept the rug out from beneath him?
No...its, its someone else. Something else. It has to be.
He was on alert, from that moment on, should that "other him" suddenly emerge. He had little idea, however, what exactly he was going to do when he encountered himself.
The voices were stronger here. Only there was a great deal more pleading and supposed cries of pain now that he had entered the Capital. As if the graves of those Ancients long dead were yawning and yielding up their suffering dead, those poor beings that had to eternally endure the painful cries of the Planet they served. But what was so wrong? Again, Sephiroth grew angry at how little he knew about everything.
- - - - - - - - - -
Aeris wasted no time. All that fell before her eyes did not reach and concur with her mind. A little part of her seemed to be screaming inside her head, begging for a chance to enjoy the sights around her. To enjoy the air that her ancestors had breathed, enjoy the walk on the paths they had created. But she was being led by something, something that the voices of the Ancients around her were harkening to. It would not let her veer off her course, off the main path that seemed to be leading to the great white tree in the heart of the forgotten city.
She passed through the entrance carved into a coral structure, into a crystalline-like cave that glittered in the sunlight that filtered through the branches of the white tree above. The path was as straight as an arrow.
She emerged upon a shell structure that was extended over a small lake. Surrounding it, she discovered, were several white trees, which she had mistakenly taken for a single, giant tree. A great ray of sunlight flashed and shone on the shell-house, as if beckoning her to come closer. The voices were leading her there. She entered.
A few moments later, she was descending, surrounded by darkness. The steps she walked on seemed to be made of a clear, blue-ish crystal. They made no noise as she stepped on them. It seemed like an eternity had passed when she came upon the bottom. It was a holy place, of some sort. A collection of towers and...an altar, she realized, were built on top of a sort of pedestal that seemed the only structure in the endless darkness. Scattered rays of sunlight reflected off of partially-constructed crystal walls that enveloped the tiny collection of buildings.
The altar was where she was being led. The voices called to her, in words she could only partially understand.
This way.
It shall soon be over.
This way.
She descended yet another set of stairs, discovering the shallow water that lay beneath everything. Pedestals lay in that water, and formed a risen path towards the altar. She crossed the gap, and when she reached the structure, she immediately fell to her knees and the cloak that covered her face fell away.
Pray. Talk to us, whispered the voices. Speak to us.
- - - - - - - - - -
Sephiroth watched everything. He descended the stairs, but only after he had seen her close her eyes.
What now? he wondered as he stared at the motionless form of the praying girl.
The sound of human voices reached his ears. He raised his head, realizing they were coming from above. He looked up, and saw a golden-haired man, dressed in a SOLDIER uniform and brandishing a giant sword.
Its him! Sephiroth's mind screamed at him. From the dream...
Continuous military policy throughout his life had formed a procedure in his mind; observe, without the subject in question's knowledge, decide, and then execute. If that man-Cloud, or whatever his name was, encountered him, there was no telling what he would do, how he would react. Sephiroth was in no condition to pick a fight with anyone...not yet, at least. He would wait, until he got answers. Until he discovered who his enemy was. Then, when they had their back turned...
"Barret, Tifa...come on, I think she's down here," came the SOLDIER's voice.
Sephiroth grinned as he thought back to the dream. So, you managed to make it through the forest.
"Hurry, Sephiroth could be anywhere," cried Cloud's female companion.
Raising an eyebrow in puzzlement, Sephiroth began to edge his way out of the room in which the crystal stairs descended. Unseen by the Cetra, he found a ladder leading to the cone-like roof of one of the three towers surrounding the altar. He hurriedly climbed it, keeping to the side so as to avoid the eyes of Cloud and his companions.
It took them a few moments to reach the bottom. Cloud's head whipped around in several directions, anticipating an attack. He waved his comrades on. Upon seeing the Cetra girl, however, praying on the altar, he held up a hand in front of his friends. "Aeris?" he called to her.
She did not respond. Sephiroth watched as the man bit his lip and then leaped forward, crossing the steps to reach the altar. Cloud paused, however, on the third one, to pull his sword before him. His knees bent as if he were preparing to leap at the girl, probably only to slice her head off in the process.
What the hell? What is he doing?
Sephiroth, then, catching a sight of glinting silver in the corner of his eye, rapidly turned his head toward another rooftop, adjacent to his own. He was rewarded with the sight of...himself?! It was. The man looked exactly like him...everything. The dream had been correct. The imposter had his arms crossed, his lips fixed into a wicked grin that Sephiroth himself remembered giving his own, past dying enemies only too often. The imposter was his exact replica.
Who has done this?!
The SOLDIER's friends cried out at their comrade in shock. "Cloud?! What in the frickin' damn hell are you doin'?! Knock it off!" bellowed the man with the gun-arm.
Luckily, the man's voice was enough to distract Cloud. Sephiroth turned his head just enough to see that the man lost his balance, tilting over as his sword slid into the water. He clutched the edge of the pedestal with his hands as he dangled off of it, waving for assistance. His eyes expressed a clear concern as if he had not a clue as to what was going on.
"Useless!" the imposter hissed. He drew his sword...
Masamune!
Sephiroth's eyes widened as they darted from the imposter to the girl, still locked silently in prayer and completely unaware of anything.
And then it was that he understood. The altar, below him, it wasn't a place for prayer. It was a place for...sacrifice...
Someway, for some reason, his "clone" meant to kill her. He had been manipulating the one named Cloud, whom had failed to execute the task. The imposter now meant to do the job himself, kill the Cetra himself.
But Sephiroth could not let that happen, he could not. All of these people-they had to remain alive. They had to tell him what was going on. They had to! Even the clone was not to be killed...until he decided otherwise. But the Cetra could not be killed. She...there was something about her that told him, from the moment he had met her eyes in the inn, that she knew something he needed to know.
And he intended to find out what it was.
He leaped from his position on the rooftop, then, just as his clone did, hoping he could somehow disarm him before it was too late.
I can't fail, Sephiroth said as the imposter's head darted towards him, and the creature's eyes flared with anger and perplexment. Failure has never been an option.
- - - - - - - - - -
NOTE: If you're wondering why I changed the names of my chapters its because I'm getting tired of naming them. So from now on it'll just be one, two, etc. Much easier on my part. Thank you for reading and thank you all for the wonderful reviews!