FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION
Book 1: The Approaching Storm
20
Ellone slowed as she neared the house. A shiver worked its way through her body, and she realized it wasn't from the cold. In spite of Vincent's stoic, protective presence not five feet away, she felt anxiety gnawing at her belly nonetheless. It only grew worse as she saw that the kitchen door was ajar, swinging listlessly on silent hinges.
Whatever it was, Vincent must have felt it too, because he drew one of his handguns and moved ever so slowly toward the door, keeping his body between the house and Ellone. If something dangerous was in there, it would have to go through him to get to her. Apprehension filled her mind, but whether it was hers or Vincent's or both, she couldn't tell. The odd, mental link between them was always hazy like that.
The wind seemed unnaturally loud in Ellone's ears as she followed Vincent across the snow to the side of the house where a soft pool of warm yellow light should have been visible from the kitchen windows. There was nothing there but darkness, however, and somehow she didn't think it was because Tifa had simply turned the lights off. Something was terribly wrong, and Ellone didn't need the bond to tell her that Vincent was thinking the same thing.
He pushed the door open, and as he did so, Ellone noticed that the top hinge was wrenched almost entirely out of the doorframe while the one just below was bent far out of shape. Whatever had come through here had nearly ripped the door right off the wall in the fury of its entrance. Had her pursuer found her at last? Ellone shuddered at the possibility but couldn't deny that it seemed more than likely.
Staring into the open doorway was like staring into the entrance to a tomb, she thought with a chill. She couldn't make out anything inside at first, and she realized that there weren't any other lights on in the house, either. The kitchen and beyond lay within a nest of murky shadows that afforded the hunter far more hiding places than Ellone would have liked. As her eyes slowly began to adjust to the dimness, she shattered the heavy silence with a strangled, horrified gasp.
Tifa lay facedown on the kitchen floor in a steadily widening pool of her own blood.
Frozen in place, Ellone shook with fear and disbelief and a sudden, overwhelming sense of guilt that seemed to paralyze her where she stood. It's all my fault! I led that thing here, it came here for me, not her! Oh, Hyne, is she dead? Please don't die, Tifa! Please! Tears leaked from her eyes, sliding unheeded down her cheeks, her knees turned to water, and she couldn't seem to keep from trembling.
Ellone had only just registered the rush of movement from the side when she looked up to see Vincent firing into the darkness to her left. She clapped her hands over her ears over the din of the gunfire, so much louder here than outside, and tried to make her way to where Tifa lay unmoving on the floor. Elle sank to her knees and crawled toward her friend, stretching her hands out in front of her to balance herself. Almost immediately, her fingers touched something wet and warm. It was Tifa's blood.
Shivering with terror and shame, Ellone looked up into the hooded countenance of the tireless, relentless black hunter. Eyeless sockets devoid of more than just eyes gazed apathetically back at her, the shimmering steel mask bereft of any emotion whatsoever. If this creature took any pleasure in the death it brought, it did not show it. Massive and foreboding, the cloaked fiend hovered before her, more shadow than substance yet no less deadly for it. Twin, wickedly sharp swords dove toward her with inhuman speed, Ne'uime and Ja'sathra ready to finish what they had begun.
White light exploded into her field of vision, but not from her. There was a loud, metallic clang as a wide, glowing blade slammed in front of the hunter's two swords, definitively blocking the attack. Startled, Ellone saw through her tear-streaked vision that it was not Vincent that had saved her, but Cloud. She hadn't heard him arrive, but the rage in his blue eyes told her well enough that he had seen what had happened to his wife. Ellone wondered if he would turn that anger upon her as well.
Her pursuer lunged at her again, this time from the side. One moment the creature had been in front her, the next it was cutting at her from off to the right. Ellone felt a whoosh of air as she instinctively rolled away, and she suddenly didn't want to know how close she had just come to having her insides strewn across the floor. Fitting punishment for what she had wrought, but she still didn't want to experience it.
Ellone felt herself yanked to her feet and shoved backward, and she realized Vincent had put her again behind him. This time he had exchanged his handguns for the Death Penalty, firing round after round at the elusive creature and hitting nothing but air. Elle could feel his frustration through the bond and understood that if the hunter wasn't destroyed or driven off soon, Vincent wouldn't have much more ammo with which to fire his weapons and keep it at bay.
A primal roar of pain and rage suddenly split the air, and Ellone realized the voice behind it belonged to Cloud. He was slashing madly at the creature again and again, his huge sword glowing a pure, powerful white rather than its customary purple. Whatever it was, the hunter seemed to shrink back from it as though it were a flaming brand that could incinerate it instantly.
Ignoring the spectacle for the moment, Ellone crawled past Vincent and made her way again to Tifa's side. Trying not to think about the blood she was kneeling in, Elle grabbed her friend by the waist and turned her over so she was lying on her back. Tifa's skin was cool and clammy to the touch, and several livid slashes ripped across her chest and midsection. The only reason she hadn't been totally dismembered like poor Starlight, Ellone guessed, was because her pursuer had been more intent on finding her than on utterly destroying anything in its path. Even so, fresh tears spilled down her cheeks as she saw the ugly red gouge in Tifa's swollen abdomen.
Ellone choked back a sob. "The baby…!"
At that moment, something inside her snapped. It wasn't often that Ellone ever got angry, or even irritated. But fury now seemed to fill her entire being, rage at herself for letting this happen, and at the cruel hunter for so terribly hurting her friend and the baby inside her. The familiar tingling in her blood became a firestorm, and as she threw out her arms, a scream of grief and anger exploded from her with as much force as the brilliant stream of white fire that followed it.
Her power surging within her like thunderbolts crackling through her veins, Ellone slammed her enemy through the kitchen window, glass exploding in a hail of jagged shards as the bright flames of her anger banished the darkness to the farthest corners of the house. The wide, broken frame above the sink gaped open into the frigid night like a badly pulled tooth.
Ignoring the cold and heedless of the biting wind, Ellone followed her enemy outside, determined to put an end to this. Her blood was liquid fire, and she both feared and embraced it. Never had she felt so powerful, so alive. Yet at the same time, she seemed to be a stranger in her own body, watching herself become someone she did not know.
Steel flashed in her vision, and she dodged before her thoughts had even begun to register the movement. Her enemy was upon her again, but this time she would not cower. Darkness surged out from the trees, a deadly thing best left to nightmares, and for the first time, it showed itself fully. The cloak, she realized, was not a garment at all. It wrapped itself around her enemy's form, shrouding it in deepest shadow, then suddenly flared out to either side.
The demon's wings flapped, and her enemy rose into the icy air.
Ellone thrust out her arms again as the creature dove toward her, and a burst of white fire streaked out at it. Suddenly it was gone, moving too quickly for the eye to follow. It was as though physical space had no meaning for this hellish assassin. She whirled, throwing a stream of flame behind her just as her enemy closed on her from the other side.
Again her enemy spun out of sight, evading her attack. The thing seemed to move like a ghost. Instinctively, Ellone dropped to the snow, and the demon's twin blades sailed harmlessly overhead through the space where her neck had been a moment before. She rolled as Pain and Suffering immediately dove downward, and while she escaped Suffering, Pain's icy teeth grazed her arm.
Suddenly she wasn't alone. Above her, Cloud was slicing at the demon with his glowing blade, and the deafening report of a shotgun blast told her that Vincent was nearby. Cid was there, too, it seemed, jabbing and cutting with his feathered spear for all he was worth. Ellone rose to her feet and let the fire within her streak out into the night, turning it into temporary day. Her enemy shrank back before her, and at last it melted into the darkness and was gone.
Ellone felt the rage within her subside, but the warmth of her power still surged in her blood. For a moment she just stood there and tried to comprehend what in the world she had just done. Never in her life had she felt so out of control, so furious. Even so, the experience was intoxicating, and she savored every moment of it, letting it fill her entire being with its fiery touch.
"Can somebody please tell me what the fuck just happened here?" Cid spat.
The gruff pilot's explosive demand jerked Ellone back to herself in an instant, and her eyes widened as she at last remembered why she had gone so berserk in the first place. "Tifa!"
She ran back into the house, afraid that her power might fade again at any moment, and knelt beside her fallen friend. Dimly she noted that the others had followed her inside, but she ignored them. Tenderly placing one hand over that horrible wound in Tifa's belly and the other over her friend's heart, Ellone slid within herself and felt her power overcome her again.
As with Squall's scar, her hands traced the injuries, gently probing them until she found what she was looking for. She could feel Tifa's pain as though it was her own, and for a moment she could almost see it, like a cloud of dark vapor over her friend's spirit. Tifa's pulse fluttered faintly, and within her ruptured abdomen, her baby's heart beat almost too weakly even for Ellone to detect. They were dying, and Ellone didn't think even her power could save them.
Nevertheless, she was going to try. She had to.
Light flared out from her hands, diving into the open wounds like a flurry of silver comets. Ellone felt power surging out from her, draining her even as it desperately strove to restore her friend. Still she let it flow out of her, willing it to be enough. It had to be. There was no other choice. Even if it killed her, Ellone was going to bring Tifa and the baby back from death's chill grasp.
Ellone squeezed her eyes shut as she dove even deeper with her power, and for the first time, she felt the shadows and pain in her friend's body begin to recede. She felt those terrible wounds begin to knit themselves up, the sundered flesh becoming whole again. Tifa's heartbeat grew stronger, her pulse more regular, and within her womb, the baby's injuries closed and its vital signs began to stabilize.
Opening her eyes, Ellone blinked back sudden tears of both relief and shame as Tifa stirred and began to wake. Cloud held her in his arms, cradling her so gently he seemed afraid she might break if he moved her. As she felt the tempest within her body at least begin to recede, Ellone backed away from her friends, somehow unable to meet their eyes. What would they say to her? What would they do?
Not waiting to find out, Ellone staggered outside, sinking to her knees in the snow, and let the tears come.
She wept, wrapping her arms beneath her breasts as her chest hitched with choked sobs which she made no effort to hold back. It's all my fault! The words repeated themselves endlessly in her mind, a chorus of self-recrimination that taunted her again and again. Tifa and the baby nearly died because of me! No matter where I go or what I do, it's always the same! Why won't it ever end?
It was as though she were cursed somehow. Someone or something sinister was always after her, trying to capture or kill her, and most of the people she had ever been close to had gotten hurt because of it. Uncle Laguna, Squall, Raine, her parents, the rest of the orphanage gang, and now Tifa and the baby. No wonder she was always so alone.
"You should not be out here," Vincent's soft voice drifted to her from behind. "It is dangerous."
Ellone struggled to compose herself, rising weakly to her feet but not turning yet to face him. Part of her was afraid of what she might see there. Would it be disappointment? Anger? Hate, even? As distraught as she was, she wouldn't have blamed him for feeling any or all of those things. In fact, she almost expected him to. Yet what Ellone felt through the bond was none of those things. Hesitantly, she looked at him, tears still wet and glistening on her cheeks.
His pale, handsome face bore the same stoic expression he always seemed to wear like a mask, but it was Vincent's eyes that held Ellone's attention. Those deep, reddish-brown irises of his gazed at her more softly than she remembered, and through the bond she felt something she hadn't expected or hoped for, least of all from him. Yet it was there just the same, that quiet concern for her that he always seemed to have. As much as she wanted to, Ellone couldn't accept it so easily this time.
A long, weary sigh escaped her lips. "I know, I just… I just had to… get away…"
"You don't have to explain," he replied.
Ellone almost laughed. How could he say that, after all that had just happened? Even if she wanted to, she couldn't have begun to figure out what she had done, let alone explain it to him. It was as much a mystery to her as to anyone else, and that scared her more than she cared to admit. Her power was changing and growing within her into something both wondrous and terrifying, and it was all she could do to keep from losing herself in the midst of it.
Suddenly she was trembling, her eyes brimming with fresh tears. "I… I'm so scared, Vincent… I don't know what… what's going on, what's h-happening to me…"
One moment, Vincent was standing just outside the kitchen door, the next, she felt him standing close to her, gently tying a cloth over the bloody patch of her blouse just beneath her right elbow. She had all but forgotten about the cut she'd gotten from one of the demon's blades, and in her distress hadn't even noticed it or the stinging pain until just now.
"You asked me to protect you, and I will," Vincent reminded her. "That has not changed."
Ellone felt the fingers of his good hand brush against hers as he started to let go of her wounded arm, and rather than let them fall away, she grasped them in both of her hands, wanting and needing the physical contact as though she were afraid he might suddenly disappear. She looked up at him for a moment, grateful just that he was there with her.
"Thank you," she whispered.
A discreet cough sounded from the direction of the house, and Ellone let go of Vincent's hands and stepped away, wiping her eyes as best she could and trying not to blush. Cloud stood in the kitchen doorway, one arm wrapped around Tifa's waist and the other grasping his weapon. The massive blade no longer shone a solid white but instead its customary purple, and in its steady glow, Ellone could see from the firm set of his jaw that he had made up his mind about something.
He turned to her, and his gaze was not unkind. "Are you alright, Ellone?"
"Yes, I… I'm fine, but… is Tifa okay? And the baby? I… I'm so sorry, Cloud, it's all my fault! That thing was after me, not her… I just…"
"You saved them, remember?" he told her. "They would have died if it weren't for you. If this is anyone's fault, it's mine. I should have seen this coming a lot sooner."
Ellone stared at him. "How can you say that? If it weren't for me, it never would have happened at all."
"Oh, stop that," Tifa chided. Her voice seemed a bit weak, but otherwise she looked fine. "We knew the risks when we decided to help you, Elle. Don't go blaming yourself for it. I'm not. Besides, we don't have time for that now, anyway."
As relieved as she was that Tifa was recovering, Ellone couldn't dismiss her sense of guilt so easily. Her mere presence had wrought more pain over the course of her life than she thought she could bear, and this latest incident was just another in a long line of such occurrences. She would give anything to be free of that horrible legacy but held little hope that it might actually happen.
"Cid's prepping the Highwind right now," Cloud went on. "We're getting out of here now, tonight, before that thing comes back. We'll talk more about what happened once we get to Cosmo Canyon and Red can fill us in on what he's got, understand?"
She nodded, and Cloud took Tifa across the yard to the stables to get a mount for the short ride to the airship. Taking a breath to calm herself, Ellone started to follow when she felt Vincent's good hand come to rest on her shoulder. He had taken off his cloak and now held it out for her, and she slipped into it gratefully. The cold was so constant here that she hardly noticed it anymore, but it was still nice to have something warm to keep it out.
On impulse and without really thinking about it, Ellone wrapped her arms around Vincent's chest and hugged him tight for a moment, resting her cheek upon his shoulder. It wasn't the cloak, or at least not just that, because he'd lent it to her before on more than one occasion. Mostly, she just wanted to be near him, to feel the pleasant warmth of his body close to hers.
At last, and with some reluctance, Ellone let go and stepped away. "Well, I guess we'd better get going."
Vincent tilted his head in acknowledgement and led Ellone in the direction Cloud and Tifa had gone just a few moments earlier. The stable wasn't that far away, and before long, two chocobos rode out at a brisk trot towards the edge of town and the snowfields where Cid's airship waited.
Sitting with Vincent upon a blue-feathered female named Marle, Ellone grasped the chocobo's reins steadily in her hands and tried not to think about the last time she had ridden one of these birds. The pleasant sensation of Vincent's arms around her waist as he sat behind her in the saddle was a welcome distraction, however, and the journey proved uneventful.
She and Cloud rode their mounts up the airship's boarding ramp and directly into the Highwind's own stable a few minutes later, and after feeding Marle some greens and brushing out her feathers, Ellone followed the others to the bridge, marveling at the enormity of the vessel. It probably could have rivaled Squall's ship, the Ragnarok, in size, although she guessed that the Estharian cruiser was better armed and armored than the Highwind.
A deep, steady thrumming filled the air as the ship's engines roared to life, and within moments the world was dropping away as the Highwind took off. Ellone watched from one of the portside windows as the forests and mountains of Icicle shrank into insignificance. They looked like the set of some giant's model train, little trees and rivers and hills all laid out before her in a wondrous panorama.
The Highwind banked to starboard and headed west, racing through the night.