Disclaimer: All Final Fantasy related characters and locations belong to Squaresoft except the OCs.

A Word from the Author: Some things in the chapter may not make sense as I am introducing a new OC, but hopefully you're smart enough to get it.

Chapter Eight: A Silver Feather

Sephiroth wasn't the only one who dreamed that night. Another dreamed too, but what he saw was far darker.

He was flying.

Arne's silvery wings were flung wide to catch the wind as he soared among the clouds with the ease and grace of a bird. He wore sky blue robes, and the lion pendant that his father had given his mother, strangely, now encircled his neck, its surface glinting where the sunlight struck it.

Beside him flew a woman of unsurpassed beauty. She looked to be only in her early twenties, but as Arne looked into her eyes, deep pools of molten gold, he saw an ageless wisdom that reached back to the very beginning of time. Her features were delicate and pale as porcelain, and her long violet hair streamed behind her like a banner. Her wings, too, were pure gold, shining with a heartbreaking beauty.

Arne did not know her. Yet he felt a surge of love warm his heart as the two of them shared a secret, intimate smile. Both of them came to a halt in the sky, wings wrapping around each other, fluttering gently. Her slender hands twined around his neck, and he pulled her close in a lover's embrace. Her lips were warm against his, and they remained that way for seemingly eternity before they slid down to find his throat.

At last they broke apart, and still holding each other in their arms. Arne suddenly felt uneasy for no reason at all. He slanted a gaze towards the horizon, but they were still alone in the sky. No aerial enemies approached to threaten them.

What was it he felt, then? A sense of impending doom nearly overwhelmed him as he scanned his surroundings with worry.

His companion squeezed his arm inquisitively. Frowning, he glanced at her and had to force himself not to recoil. She was just as beautiful as before, but for some reason he was unexplainably wary of her. He was repulsed by this woman; attracted and disgusted at the same time. He shoved her away, dizzy from her perfume, still clinging to him in fragrant waves.

She didn't budge. Shocked by her abnormal strength, he stopped, his hands sliding limply down to rest around her forearms. He looked deep into the amber eyes, and saw, to his horror, scarlet bleeding into her eyes, turning them into a dark, bloody crimson. Her pupils narrowed, becoming slits, like a cat's.

He thrashed wildly, seeking a way to escape her grasp, but she was far stronger. Dazedly, his mind idly observed that her wings had transformed, darkening into black and twisting into a bat's leathery wings. Her nails, no talons, dug with mind numbing pain into the sides of his neck, pressing precariously close to his jugular vein, strangling him. During this time, her body continued to morph an distort into that of any human's worst nightmare. Even as his oxygen starved brain begged for air, something compelled him to look into those awful, terrible ruby eyes—and see the wrenching hate.

Something in his numbed brain understood with cold clarity that she wanted the hate to be one of the last things he saw before he died.

"Why?" he whispered, or rather, mouthed, lacking the air to do anything more. She understood, however, and smiled with supreme satisfaction.

"You know the answer to that," she spat at him.

Laughing in his face, she snapped out a long tentacle, wrapped it swiftly around his wings, and with one quick, malicious tug, pulled them out of his back with brutal cruelty.

The pain was unbelievable. His wings, clutched triumphantly like a bloody trophy in the monster's grasp, exploded in a spray of silver, bloodied feathers as the creature tightened its grip on the appendages. Feathers filled the air, falling on him and around him, some sticking to the blood that dribbled out of his broken back.

Then, without any warning, she released him.

Like a stone in water he plummeted, the ragged stubs of all that remained of his wings frantically flapping out of habit to keep him aloft. Blood continued spurting out of the ragged flaps of his throat. He felt so cold; with a pang, he realized he was dying. Her laughter continued screeching around him as he fell further. She was just a black spot in the sky now; yet he could still hear her words clearly as though she was right next to him whispering spitefully into his ear.

"Serves you right, Quinn Leonheart."

(Quinn?)

"But...my name is Arne..." he whispered, but the rushing wind snatched the words away from his lips before the syllables could form.

The ground was rushing up to meet him. Any moment now...

Impact.

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"No!"

Arne bolted awake with a start. Breathing heavily, he put a hand on his forehead, disoriented at first. He breathed an uncharacteristic sigh of relief as he realized that it had been just a horrible nightmare and he was still in his office.

Blearily he squinted at the computer screen in front of his face, still brightly lit. The memories of yesterday came rushing back, and he remembered that he had stayed up late to do the snooping his father had requested of him. He must have fallen asleep. With a start he realized that it was still dark; the sky outside his window was still dusky and shrouded in darkness. He focused on his chrono. It was three in the morning.

Wonderful. Arne switched off the computer and stretched vigorously, yawning sleepily. He'd better get some rest; he had a class to teach tomorrow and he would need his wits about him. He felt too tired to walk to the dormitories to sleep in his bed, so he sat back and let his eyelids flutter close.

Unfortunately, an hour later, he was awoken by yet another dream of ruby eyes. Exhausted, he rubbed at his sore eyes. Finding no respite in slumberland, he decided to go back to his research.

He powered up his laptop once again and bent his tousled head over his keyboard. Briefly he thought of his odd dreams, remembering their vividness, the very real pain of his torn wings, the mocking amusement of the woman. He shrugged, his practical side taking over and dismissing it. Probably just stress. A nightmare born out of his imagination and memories of the stories of sorcerers and sorceresses he had grown up with. Nothing more, and he was an idiot for trying to make a mountain out of a molehill.

He turned back to his task with renewed concentration. A moment later, he had forgotten all about his dreams.

He didn't notice the single silver feather that rested on the floor next to his desk.

A warning had been given.

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Author's Ending Note: Quinn will be starring more in other dreams and flashbacks, and in a later story I am planning, a prequel to TIAL called Jenova: The Fall From Grace. Quinn's name is a very BIG clue here. I am really very sorry this chapter is so short, but after writing it, I thought Arne's dreams would work better as a standalone chapter. Again, no Sephiroth, but he's in next chapter, in his very first swordsmanship class, so be sure to stay tuned!

Travithian Axile out

Thanks to:

Dark Feruil: Yes, Sephiroth will be working a lot with some of the FFVIII characters. As for how he will defeat Jenova...it's my surprise.

Daishi Mk I2I: Errr...I'll take that as a compliment.

Noacat: It's definitely more than a guest appearance! I have much in store for the canon characters, especially Seifer and Quistis! (I am still debating with myself whether to make it a Seftis, as I don't know whether it is possible with a few plot twists I plan to add. So even if a lot of you vote for such a pairing, there is still a possibility I won't throw in a Seftis. ) Laguna has a small part to play too, so cheer up, Laguna fans!