Path of Redemption
Sephiroth awoke as the jolt of power filled his body, invading his mind. It was a steady hum, firing along nerves and freezing his veins, sending fiery icicles through his system. Pain and joyous, sinful and holy, he embraced it, feeding off of the feeling, drinking it in.
Electricity raced along his mind, igniting what had been lost. Memories from the void flared up, sparking new fires in his brain, creating a path that Aeris had so carefully tried to erase.
He remembered. He remembered everything and both loved and hated it.
Professor Gast looking down at him after some routine tests, pride shining in his eyes. Hojo and Lucrecia hovering in the background, no less proud, but not as involved, always holding back.
War as the forces of Wutai attacked Midgar. Taking up Masamune and charging into battle, killing many. His final sword fight with Lord Godo himself, subduing the would-be Emperor of the Planet, and sparing him.
A mission to a small town called Nibelheim. His protogee, Zack. A young boy named Cloud who looked up to him, worshipped him. Seeing his true mother, the Ancient, Jenova. He had been so proud of his Cetra heritage. So proud was he of these people of the Planet, the saviours, the builders. How eager to become one of them. And then he learned of the betrayal. Humanity breaking off from the Cetra, using and raping the land for their own petty purposes, too lazy to work for the Promised Land, they preferred to abuse what was in front of them instead.
Flames. Fire all around as the village of Nibelheim burned. The fires that he had started. His sword flashing out, taking lives, reaping away hope, bringing nothing but destruction. How proud he had been to be a Cetra, the descendent of creators, and there he had been, a destroyer.
He remembered the girl who acted as a guide trying to avenge her dead father. Zack trying to stop him from doing any further damage. Both fools, both easily defeated. And then the boy. Cloud. Righteous. Angry. In that one moment of his life, that boy had been unstoppable. Never again would he be more determined. And Sephiroth had fallen to him.
The wound he had received was grevious in the battle afterwards, but he had managed to walk away, carrying his mother, Jenova, out with him.
In the present, tears rolled down Sephiroth's eyes as he remembered Cloud coming for him again, taking a wound, but managing to grab the sword that impaled him, lifting it, and throwing his nemesis into the pool of Mako below.
Sephiroth remembered his trip through the Lifestream, the acquired knowledge, Jenova forever whispering to him in his ear about what he must do.
He remembered it all.
Especially killing Aeris.
Why had he done it? It made so much sense at the time. Gain power, reclaim the Planet. Maybe the goal was a good one, but the methods... how much of a monster had he become? What had he let Jenova make him into?
Before he would have looked on his past and agreed with it. But that had been before Aeris, and her cleansing, slowly pushing Jenova away from him.
Sephiroth opened his eyes and saw.
Jenova, his mother, the mother had thought was so beautiful, held him in her arms, clutching him close to her chest, but carefully away from the two impaled weapons in her. In her chest, on the left side, was a spear, and in her throat was a silvery sword. Godo's sword. Murasame.
"Help me, my son!" she cried. "Protect me!"
Revulsion filled him, but at the same time, he wanted to reach out, and help this wounded creature. No matter her crimes, she was his mother.
Another jolt of power flowed from her tentacles and into him, invigorating him. Power that had been drained into Obsidian Weapon now returned to him. He looked down, and saw Aeris on the ground, alive, but just barely. His eyes narrowed.
"Mother..." he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
She pulled him closer, moved him up, so that she could see him better.
"I'm sorry."
The last traces of humanity, the remnants of his real mother, Lucrecia, registered shock. Pain exploded from her lips in an ear piercing shriek as Sephiroth tore Murasame from her throat.
Reflexively, she released him, letting him drop to the ground. He fell gracefully, like a cat, landing on his feet. He shifted his sword so that the blade pointed backwards, preparing to slash. Tentacles struck out blindly, seeking him out. The white-haired warrior moved effortlessly, dancing among them, smoothly slashing and dismembering. As he did so, he noticed two men moving towards him, trying to aid him. Both carried no weapons at all. One was a bald-headed man that he didn't recognize, but his uniform identified him as a Turk. The other was Cloud. Sephiroth nodded to the man, glad to have him on his side. Cloud gave him a wary return look, then also nodded, somewhat respectfully.
Jenova was in her death throes, lashing out, trying to kill anything near her.
"Rude!" Cloud said. "Get to Reno and Tifa!"
The bald-headed man gave the blond-haired warrior a startled look, which resolved into an angry frown. He looked about, and Sephiroth saw him spot a brunette woman and a red-haired man, both laying crumpled on the ground.
"Sephiroth!" Cloud said. "I need you to protect Aeris and the others. I'll deal with Jenova."
The white-haired warrior shook his head. "She's my mother. I'll take care of her. It's your job to protect Aeris. When we were in the Lifestream, she told me that you were her bodyguard. Don't fail her now."
Cloud seemed hesitant, but then he nodded, turning away.
Sephiroth breathed in deeply, then wished he hadn't. Midgar air. Even as decimated as the city was, even without the chimney stacks and factories running, it still had that stink. He frowned, then moved forward, his body a blur.
While Cloud had been unstoppable for two moments of his life, the first and last times he had fought Sephiroth, the white-haired warrior had always been considered invincible, Death given a beautiful guise. He was an inevitable tide, a burning destruction, an army of one man.
And he charged directly at Jenova.
Tentacles fell away as they were dismembered. Screams rent from the woman that called herself mother, from both women who called herself so. Both Lucrecia's and Jenova's voices were there. One audible, the other in his head, calling him, begging him to stop.
Do you think they will forgive you? Jenova asked. You are a Destroyer. You have nothing to offer this world.
"Maybe that's all I need to offer. The destruction of one being. The Cetra made this Planet, now I will save it."
You will never be truly Cetra. They are dead. I am alive.
"Not for long," he said back, hurling the words at her from both his mouth and his mind.
A dozen arms struck at him all at once, now focused, intent on stopping him. He hacked and slashed, dismembering as many as he could. One latched firmly onto his sword-arm, jerking it from the fray. The remaining three wrapped around his other arm, his chest, and one of his legs. Jenova picked him up, holding him fiercely.
You are my son. You will not disobey me.
He looked away from her, avoiding her gaze.
She tightened her grip. Murasame fell from his hand. He felt something crack in his chest.
Obey.
He groaned under the pressure of her grip, but refused to acknowledge her. He would not scream. He would not give in. He would not follow.
OBEY.
He turned his head, looking her directly in the face, then spat at her. Sephiroth's own blood struck Jenova in the face, an act of defiance. Jenova howled in frustration. Lucrecia's features seemed hopeless, lost, uncertain.
The tentacles holding Sephiroth tightened, and he felt something inside of him give. Nothing mental or spiritual, but something physical. She had broken something inside him, something important. The pain was too much. He closed his eyes as he felt his insides creaking. He would not give in!
He lashed out the only way he knew how. He kicked with his one free foot as hard as he could, and struck something. A shuddering gasp rent through Jenova, and her hold slackened. Sephiroth fell to the floor with a thud. Absently, he looked up, wondering what he had struck to make her let go of him.
And saw that the spear that had been in her chest was now pushed all the way through.
He smiled absently to himself as the enemy from the skies fell down beside him, still reaching for him, still desperate to have him. This was his birth mother, and his chosen mother. The woman who had carried him, loved him, and wanted him to destroy for her. With his last remaining strength, he spat at her again.
And then he died.