"That must be it," Cid says as he circles the Wutai carrier above a strip of tropic islands. Azure waters shimmer against sandy white shorelines, and rocky beaches press beneath thick jungle canopies.

Despite the otherwise clear weather, dense fog covers an island in the archipelago. Poking above the obscured tree line is the tip of a jet-black temple whose composition alters from glossy to matte with each strike of sunlight.

"Well, that's...ominous," Aerith says, leaning against the window.

Cloud couldn't agree more. The hues of sky near the temple's apex are sour yellow, and flocks of parrots spiral to avoid its vicinity.

"Can we get on the ground now?" Yuffie moans from the cabin. She's curled on the floor to stymie her motion sickness while Barret paces and periodically curses Cait Sith.

"I knew that mother-fucker was up to no good," Barret kept saying, but now that the temple is close, he stands beside Tifa near the pilot's chair. "That don't look like something the Cetra could build."

It's true. The angle of the crux is perfect. The material has a deep smooth luster that shifts dark colors and mirrors its surroundings like a window into a shadowed world. The Cetra are an ancient race, presumably without the tools or capabilities for such precision. But more importantly, this place does not appear welcoming. And weren't the Cetra benevolent custodians of the Planet?

Tifa's arm brushes against Cloud as she points at a clearing near the edge of the fog.

"There, look," she says.

A Shinra helicopter sits motionless and vacant. Its windows carry a sheen of translucent dust.

"The hell? That it? No troops?" Barret asks.

It's strange. There should be more Shinra officials or patrolling Turks. But aside from the scurrying lizards, there are little signs of life.

Nanaki stretches and lifts his nose to peer out. Vincent crosses his arms, watching without comment.

"Shinra knows we are coming," Nanaki says.

Yet maybe not. They have the keystone, so perhaps they've already plundered whatever treasure lay within, though judging by the look on Aerith's face this seems unlikely. She's concentrating hard as if deciphering a masterful puzzle.

Tifa smiles over at Cloud. He hasn't spoken to her about last night, but it doesn't feel necessary. Nothing between her is uncomfortable. Affections turned tangible, and neither has regrets. He likes that he can trust this sensation. It seems the only unquestionable piece of him.

Cid lands the carrier next to the Shinra chopper because there is nowhere else in the temple's vicinity, and Aerith asks him to get as close as possible.

When he cuts the engines and slides open the doors, a cacophony of jungle noises and hot muggy air assaults them. Giant insects buzz by, and curious predators slink in the outskirts of their arrival. The Shinra chopper rests inert with one door open, interior console blinking on standby as if the pilot had been in an extreme hurry.

The wall of fog is ahead, and beyond that, the temple rises.

The group hesitates. Yuffie swats at a fat mosquito. Nanaki tilts his head at the screen of mist.

"Is it...safe?" Tifa asks, but of course, nobody knows.

Cloud steps into the fog. Immediately, he's cut off into another world of compact, quiet forest. The distant chirp of birds is behind him, and the sun is blotted out.

"It's fine," he reports, inhaling the odorless mist. "Just fog. Must be a weird weather phenomenon."

There's nothing alive in the jungle on this side of the border. The trees are frozen in full bloom, but no wind rustles the foliage. The shades of green seem muted and timeless. Cloud touches the leaves from a vine growing around a tree, and the particles turn to dust in his fingers.

The others enter behind him until the fog encompasses them all. Aerith leads the way forward. The peak of the temple somehow seems more prominent now and dominates the skies.

They follow her in silence, though Cloud insists on taking point in case of Shinra ambush. But as they venture forward, that possibility seems far remote. There is nothing and no one around. The temperature drops as they weave through the jungle in the shadow of the temple. Their boots crunch over dry leaves and brittle vines.

The base of the temple appears like a sudden sheet of milky glass. There are no markings in its facade nor windows or entry of any kind. The mist creates a low ceiling, the illusion of suffocation. As the others wander on, following the structure's perimeter, Cloud finds himself caught in the intrigue of his reflection. Whenever he glances away, it distends and reintegrates, shimmers and dissolves. Then when he looks again, right at it, the doppelganger disappears and only his own pale blues stare back. He does this double-take four, then five times before a shout calls his attention.

Tifa yells from a distance. The entire party has moved on, and he rushes through the fog along the temple wall, ignoring the sensation of something at his heels.

He finds Aerith equally enthralled nearby. She stands alone, pressing a hand against the temple.

"Did you hear Tifa?" he asks because she's acting as though she has not. She's captivated, and his presence startles her.

"I...I can hear something else," she says. He gets close and listens. Ahead, he hears the commotion of their friends but no urgent cries. No nearby fauna. He hears nothing else.

"The Ancients?" he guesses.

"I don't know," Aerith says. "There are many of them."

Tifa shouts again, and this time it's in dismay. Alarm. She calls everyone over. Aerith and Cloud move together, and a gap in the mist opens up.

Tifa kneels near a Turk lying on the ground. Red soaks the white shirt beneath the black jacket from a deep slash. He bubbles blood from his lips.

"Tseng!" Aerith runs to his side. "Oh no. No, this can't be!"

Barret, Cid, and Vincent stand apart, unhelpful, as Tseng sputters a painful-sounding cough. Yuffie and Nanaki are staring at the droplets of blood leading into a narrow archway in the temple. A pattern as if shaken from a long, slender sword. A masamune.

And the entrance, a pyramidal door, beckons into utter black.

Inserted into an indent below is the meteorite. The keystone. Dio's collector item, unlocking a thousand secrets. Cloud cannot look away.

"Help him!" Aerith says. "Cloud, give me your Restore."

He pulls his eyes to the suffering Turk. Tseng's long black hair hangs over a desperate dirt-streaked face. But Tseng is the enemy and a victim of Sephiroth. The General must've been here, sought the keystone, and taken it. Which means he's just ahead. Inside the temple.

"We were wrong..." Tseng whispers. His hands tremble. "It's not...the Promised Land he's..."

Aerith soothes him. When the others don't help her, she explains, "He was always kind to me. The Turks have followed me all my life, but that doesn't mean any of them deserve to die. Don't you see?" Her pleading eyes go to Cloud.

He waits, expecting her to whisk a healing breeze out of thin air, but she doesn't. Maybe she can't, or maybe Tseng's wounds aren't that severe. Sephiroth would've killed him if he'd wanted to. But whatever lay ahead was more appealing than Tseng's death. The Turk wasn't worth the time.

Cloud steps over Tseng's body and approaches the entrance. Nanaki and Yuffie stand aside, but he pauses at the gaping void. Cold air coils from the other side, wraps around his forearms. Someone says his name. He thinks it's Aerith.

Behind him, he sees her kneeling with blood on her dress. Tifa crosses her arms, and Barret gives Cloud a wary look. Cid paces, and Vincent cranes his neck to survey the temple's peak. Aerith won't leave Tseng's side.

Cloud pops the Restore from his sword and tosses it to Aerith. Then he crosses the threshold.

An immediate cool disseminates like static across his skin. The world behind fades away. He hears Aerith activate the Restore, but the swirl of green light doesn't reach him. The void pulls him forward, and the darkness shifts like a tangible being, becoming darker and lighter as if creatures were moving in its depths. The hallway is longer than it seems, extending beyond the visible footprint of the temple.

Then a rush hits him. It isn't a physical sensation, but he knows he is falling. On impulse, he curls, shielding his head, yet his feet never leave the ground. The surroundings come up instead of him going down.

A harsh light flares, and in an instant he is outside, overlooking a vast complex of labyrinthine structures: staircases and archways, open-air walkways that loop into corners and angles of confusing geometry. Everything is pale stone and unadorned. The ledge where he stands is crumbled and worn, leading into a stairway that seems undisturbed for eons. The sky is a malachite haze.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Cid says as he appears behind Cloud. "What the hell's up with this place?"

The passage is disorienting. Nobody quite knows what to make of their transportation. The others file through, single-file, with Aerith last. She clasps her hands in wonder.

"This must be the true temple," she says and points at the maze. "We have to navigate through."

But the disquietude of their arrival inspires no actions. Cloud's still trying to level his footing in this surreal landscape. Tifa tightens her gloves.

"So Sephiroth came this way?" she asks with uncertainty.

"Tseng seemed to think so," Aerith responds.

Cloud can't disagree. The General is close, he's sure.

"Curious," Vincent mutters.

Nanaki pads to the edge. "It smells nice here," he says.

"Ugh, it's making my head hurt," Yuffie says. "Can we just get on with it?"

Barret looks back the way they came. The area is empty. "But how the hell it transport us? An' how we get back?"

Cloud adjusts his sheath with a roll of his shoulder. "Forward," he says and starts walking.

There is no way back. The Cetra designed the temple to protect the Black Materia, he reasons, and if Sephiroth is ahead, they must pursue.

"Let's try to stay together," he instructs, glancing at Tifa. She's biting her lip and squinting at the layers of stairs and spiraling corridors.

Then he exhales and steps down. Or up. At the bottom of the stairs, the perspective shifts. He's now looking down at the entrance, yet gravity and his center of balance tell him he's the one right-side up. When Tifa follows, she appears in an entirely different place, far to his right. Yuffie is beneath an archway to the left. Nanaki shouts from somewhere above (below?).

"What the hell?" Cid says. He's on the same plane as Cloud but two flights away.

"How this possible?" Barret demands, none too happy to be separated from the others. He backtracks and ends up in another stairway perpendicular to Tifa. Not the same place he started. "This is crazy!"

Aerith, however, has disappeared.

"How the hell these damn Cetra move 'round?" Barret says. He is now opposite Cloud, below on a stairwell.

"So confusing…" Yuffie intones. "We should've held hands."

It's not a bad idea. Everyone wanders this way and that, but no one intersects to test her theory. Cloud tries to make a mental map of his paths taken, but it's no use. There is no discernible pattern. At one point, he is very near Tifa at a flight of stone steps below her. He tries to jump onto her platform, but their fingers slip as the space between the sections expands the moment he leaps. And he falls smack into rock two stories down.

He grumbles and struggles to clear the hissing in his head. It's intense and loud. "Ow."

But there's a new corridor ahead. One that leads into darkness instead of another blinding stairway of madness. How long have they been down (up?) here? Suddenly, he can't remember. It seems to be hours, as the sky is darkening. He can hear the others far away, yelling to one another, perhaps calling his name or Aerith's. He checks his PHS, and the system is dead. Of course.

The path ahead is carved in a wall of sleek stone stretching in all directions.

"I think I found the center!" he shouts, but nobody responds if they can hear him.

He should wait, he thinks, for someone else to meander their way through, but the appeal of cornering Sephiroth or reaching the Black Materia first is too alluring. Plus, he doesn't want the others in danger.

So he proceeds. The passageway is a triangle, perfectly fitting his height even with the sword hilt. Within, the walls are slimy with humidity and mold even though it's bone cold. An odd weightlessness grabs his stomach for a sudden turn, then the vertigo settles.

He's inside the temple. Light flickers off the stonework ahead, inviting him in.

The passageway terminates into a long chamber of murals and lit braziers. The air is musty and dry.

"Aerith!"

She's near a mural, examining with one hand on her hip, the other below her chin.

"Oh. Cloud." But she doesn't sound relieved or surprised to see him. "You're here, too."

"Yeah, of course I am," he answers. "How did you get here?"

She tilts her head at the imagery, studying it. He peers around. There's another passage further in, but it's dark.

"Who lit these fires?" he asks.

"They did," she says. But there is no one else around.

"I... don't understand."

She doesn't reply. She seems to be listening to something else. The mural, he notices, depicts an angular temple with a bright star at its center and scores of people outside looking in.

A noise clicks in the adjoining room. It snaps his attention, and his hand goes to his hilt, but Aerith isn't alarmed at all. The braziers illuminate in the further room.

Aerith heads over.

"Wait…" Cloud says, but she doesn't.

He follows, keeping his alarm in check because she is in tune with her ancestors and the Planet. He should follow her lead and not offend their invisible hosts. Or whatever is happening.

The next room is empty as well, but the murals are different. Now the star is above the temple, which is split open, exposing a round stone at its heart.

Aerith rests her fingers on the bright stone carving. "Hmm. The Black Materia? At its center?"

There's a scuffling sound, and a shadow withdraws into a further chamber. A flow of black cape. Cloud takes no chances and rushes forward into a third room of murals and flickering braziers. The stonework here is unique, parsing elements of the lustrous dark exterior with the beige sandstone blocks. The shadow halts and solidifies.

Cloud draws his sword.

"Sephiroth," he names the man in the black cape. Aerith is at his side, staff out.

But the hooded figure makes no threatening gestures. He lowers the hood.

A man with black hair and violet Mako-tinged eyes stares back. Then those eyes go to Aerith. The man smiles with familiarity and affection. Cloud doesn't understand, but Aerith does.

She reacts with a gasp, a sharp inhale like she's been hit in the gut. The staff drops with a clatter. Tears blink down her face.

"Z-Zack?"

The room pulls the breath from her. It spins. She shakes. A tide of sudden longing, disbelief, pressure releasing from years of not knowing—not wanting to know—if he was truly dead drowns her deep. It tears her from the world, explodes the minutiae of other concerns into total irrelevance.

"It...It cannot be…" she can barely speak because he just keeps smiling.

And it is him. The soft black hair brushed away from his face. Those solid steadying eyes. That smirk. His shoulders, his chest. It's all real. She collides with him in a hug. A thousand knots of grief unwind in his embrace. He holds her, and he smells the same. She kisses his cheek, his lips. He tastes the same. She can't stop running her fingers through his hair. It's not real, yet it is.

"I knew you couldn't be gone!" she resounds.

Her jaw hurts from smiling. Her vision blurs. Everything is forgotten. He's back. The man she loves, the one she's always loved, is here.

"How?" she demands. "How are you here? Why didn't you call me? You said in Nibelheim…" But the memory truncates. "Nevermind. You're here." She buries her face against his shoulder, and he rests arms around her. "You're here now."

The First-Class SOLDIER kisses the top of her head, closes his eyes. Then he opens them again and looks at Cloud.

"Oh, hey buddy," Zack says. "Long time no see. Together again, huh?"

But Cloud doesn't know this man. There's a vague recollection of a dead SOLDIER in the Reactor in Mt. Nibel whose name was Zack, but they were never close enough to be friends. And he cannot be alive. Right?

"It's good to see you again."

Cloud doesn't respond. When was the last time they saw each other? Five years ago? A sudden phase of white parses his thoughts when he tries to remember. The void does not relinquish its secrets.

"And Aerith." Zack turns his attention with tenderness. "I'm sorry it took so long for us to meet."

She should berate him, slap that silly grin off his face and require reparations. A year of dates! A lifetime of kisses for making her worried and sick, but those requests feel insincere to the happiness consuming her. She only wants to hold him. Beneath the black cape, her fingers dig into his First-Class Uniform. She used to hate these colors because putting them on meant he had to go. She knew the risks of his job, she understood he'd agreed to defend Shinra's interests, but that pit in her stomach always remained when he left. Now, however, she loves the violet shade, the thick fabric, the pauldron armor touching her forehead.

"Tell me," she says. "Tell me how this is possible."

"You're dead," Cloud hears his own voice say. "I saw you die."

"Well, you were wrong," Aerith says, holding hands with Zack. "You and Tifa both were severely injured. You only thought he was dead."

"No," Cloud says, backing away. His heart beats fast as he struggles to draw truth from the facts presented. "No, Sephiroth killed you."

"Ah, Sephiroth," Zack says knowingly. "That's why we're all here. Isn't it?"

But that isn't good enough. Cloud demands to know how Zack survived. A cascade of doubt betrays the semblance of bare memories he's clung to, amplifying the fears that nothing he remembers is real and everything is a false memory.

Zack explains in calm honesty. He'd woken up near a riverbed outside the Nibel Mountains, freezing and starving and smelling like death. He'd remembered the encounter with Sephiroth, how the General went mad and burned the village down. Then he heard the General's voice. He's been in contact with Sephiroth ever since, traveling and seeking answers.

"Sephiroth only wants peace," Zack says. "The Nibelheim incident… All of that's in the past."

"Was that you at the Gold Saucer?" Cloud presses. "If we knew each other, why did you run from me?"

Zack shakes his head. "I'm sorry, I was having a hard time when I first woke up."

"First? Wait, how long has it been since Nibelheim for you?" Cloud asks.

"That's not important. The whole incident…" Zack sighs. "Sephiroth needs help. He needs us. You and me and Aerith. That's why I'm here."

"Did you attack Tseng?"

"...There wasn't time," Zack says. "Nevermind that. Listen, Cloud, I'm glad you're here. Even if you don't remember me, that's okay. I bet you hit your head pretty hard back there. This temple…" He spreads one arm towards the mural. "This is Sephiroth's plan. This will help renew the planet."

Cloud's gaze goes to the mural. A massive sphere trails on a collision course with the planet. The denizens of the temple have their arms upraised, expressions serene.

"Look, I know how shocking all this is," Zack says. "Hell, when I first heard Sephiroth reaching out to me, I thought I was hallucinating for sure. But our experiences changed us. Don't you see?"

Cloud wants to understand. He wants the puzzle pieces to fit, but there's too much missing. He can't rely on any of his senses or recollections.

"Aerith," Cloud says, speaking to her alone. "I saw him die. That's not who you think it is."

She refuses to believe that. The proof is here, tangible and irrefutable. Cloud's memories aren't reliable.

"The Black Materia," Zack continues. "It's a cleansing ritual. Sephiroth is at the surface of the Lifestream, and he speaks with the Ancients. This ritual is the way to purge the traitors from the planet and rejuvenate what was lost."

"...Where is Sephiroth?" Cloud asks.

"Far north, awaiting ascension. Once the cleansing is complete, an incredible source of energy will spring from the earth, engulfing him and freeing us. Don't you see, Cloud? We're brothers, after all. We cannot return to the Lifestream. It isn't strong enough to let our spirits rest the way our bodies have been corrupted."

Corrupted. He's never thought of it that way, but that's exactly what it feels like. Corruption from within. The Jenova cells... Does that mean Zack…too? No, it can't be.

"Aerith," Zack says. "You can help us locate the Black Materia. It's part of this temple, but I can't understand how it works. These murals… well, you're a Cetra, aren't you?"

Had she ever divulged this information to him? She doesn't know, and she doesn't care. She nods.

"The final altar is within," he says. "Maybe you can help us figure it out."

The pair walk off, hand-in-hand, into the final room of murals.

Aerith pours over him. "Why didn't you reach out sooner? That last phone call I got in Nibelheim… You promised to come see me."

He gives her a reassuring grin. "I can explain everything later. But now we have to hurry and find this Black Materia. Every moment we waste, Sephiroth is in trouble."

"Why help Sephiroth?" Cloud says, still not convinced. "You saw what he did to Nibelheim."

Zack peers back at Cloud. "Sephiroth is my friend. I see you made it into SOLDIER, too. That's good, because there are so few of us left. Maybe you can understand the camaraderie. I have to protect my friends. Sephiroth lost his mind, no argument there. But I can't give up on him."

Zack accepts Cloud silence as understanding and turns to the murals. As soon as those Mako eyes focus elsewhere, Cloud grabs Aerith's arm.

"Ow!" she hisses. "What are you—"

"That is not Zack," Cloud whispers. "It can't be. How could it be?"

"It is Zack," Aerith says. "I feel it in my heart. He said he can explain. I always knew he wasn't lost."

Cloud takes a deep breath. Zack carries on, studying the artwork, seemingly immune to Cloud's disbelief.

"Aerith," Cloud says. "There's something I need to tell you. It will be difficult to hear."

"Let me go, Cloud."

"There's something I think Hojo did to you at the Shinra Tower. Did to us."

"You heard Zack. I'm the only one who can help find the Black Materia."

"That thing in the basement that I saw. The same thing that somehow massacred all those people in the Tower and killed the president…"

"This place is full of mystical energy." Her eyes go all around. "I can hear so much here. There are answers within, I know it!"

"Jenova," Cloud interrupts. "Hojo injected us both with Jenova cells! Don't you see? We can't trust anything we see or hear."

Her eyes go to him in disgust. "What? You're… you're full of Jenova cells?"

"Yes, I suspect so." It's greater than a suspicion. "And so are you." Though likely much less than he.

She wrenches her arm away. "You're insane," she says. "I'm looking for answers, and all you're trying to do is stop me."

"I'm trying to protect you!"

"You aren't my bodyguard anymore," she says. "I can take care of myself. I agree this is strange, but I intend to find out more."

She withdraws to Zack's side along the final portion of the mural. The flames crackle.

He does feel insane. Nothing can be trusted, and mentioning Jenova was a mistake. It's pushed Aerith away, bred doubt and suspicion.

Behind him, the prior rooms are dark, and there is no way to contact the others. Zack puts his arm around Aerith, speaking softly to her and tracing a finger along the pictograms. At the far end of this chamber is an altar of iridescent material, similar to the keystone, cut in geometric rectangles without scripture or indication of purpose.

"The materia must be inside," Zack says of the altar.

Aerith agrees. She concentrates and entreats her ancestors. A bitter breeze drifts from regions unknown, coiling around Cloud's legs.

No, this is wrong. Cloud wants to stop her, but he can't. Something unseen physically holds him in place. He sees Zack looking at him.

"You okay, pal?" But his grin is malevolence.

"Aerith!" Cloud yells.

The wind picks up. It swirls around her, lifting her braid. The ribbon in her hair floats.

Is he losing his mind? Are these things actually happening? The altar glows. Radiance fills the area like moonlight. In the brilliance, he sees someone else. A shuddering image, undisturbed by the rousing winds.

It's Sephiroth. The General stands solemn in his uniform, masamune in hand.

The wind roars. Aerith is saying something about spirit energy bolstering her strength. Neither she nor Zack seem to notice Sephiroth. Cloud can't speak. The General's gaze settles on him. Sephiroth's lips are moving.

"I can't hear you," Cloud tries to say. There's loud static in his head. The temple is shaking. The winds rip in all directions. His eyes sting.

Sephiroth comes closer, only to him. Cloud cannot break free of this trance. He can only watch as the masamune lifts. Its blade shimmers in the fire. The fire that rages everywhere around them. That single moment in Nibelheim is all Cloud has to cling to. It is the only vivid memory that continually returns to him. The town burning, and Sephiroth at the center of it all.

Sephiroth…

"It's the temple itself," he hears Aerith shout. The altar is splayed apart in the cyclone, pieces floating, drifting. The walls of the temple crack. He has to get to her. He has to protect her.

The General is right next to Cloud now.

"You will live again as part of me." Sephiroth's voice is low, yet Cloud hears it through the storm. "I am always by your side."

It hurts to listen. The words twist and crawl into Cloud's brain.

"I am becoming one with the Planet," Sephiroth says.

Portions of the ceiling are collapsing. Huge stones smash against the floor.

"Aerith!" he tries again. It's no use. She and Zack are a blur through the dust and strange light emitting from the dissected altar.

Sephiroth has vanished, yet Cloud hadn't seen him move. He could be anywhere. Cloud struggles to reach his sword.

Then a voice speaks behind him, so close.

"Wake up," it breathes.

The suggestion becomes compulsion. He must be dreaming. He must wake up. The temple is collapsing or expanding or both. He notices the mural in this room for the first time. It is a field of people burning. Flames lick at their bodies.

Aerith says, "The Black Materia is the temple! The walls are shrinking! With us inside?!"

Cloud pushes through the paralysis with every ounce of strength. He needs to reach Aerith and stop her. Particles like fine powder begin condensing at the tip of her hand.

Wake up. He wants to. Desperately. He takes one step, then another.

The temple crumbles. Pieces are spinning apart and reshaping near Aerith, fusing together. Geometry curves in unnatural ways. An immense pressure cleaves his head.

Then he holds her. He's made it. He pulls Aerith to him, but it's too late. The sheer momentum of whatever had been collecting near her palm pulls everything into them. The altar, the murals, the stonework, and braziers. All of it comes crashing inward. He tries to divorce the object from her, and she screams.

The ceiling disintegrates. The pressure breaks his bones. Aerith is apart from him, lost to his empty fingers. A thunderous roar buries him. Ribs pop and crack. Asphyxiation crushes his lungs. Something hits his head with the velocity of an explosion. And everything goes dark.

Dark. And agonizing. Cold. He curls into a ball.

He's drifting beneath the stars. It's a black sky splattered with unfamiliar cosmos.

Wake up. He doesn't want to. Nothing seems important. It would be nice to stay here, suspended far away.

"If everything's a dream, don't wake me."

It's his voice, but it hasn't come from his body. That doesn't matter. He doesn't matter. He just wants to…

"Cloud?"

"Aerith…"

He blinks, and a pure whiteness bleeds over the starscape. Shafts of darkness slash through the scene. Tree trunks.

"Aerith, are you okay?"

She appears in a forest illuminated with white trunks and pale leaves. She's smiling.

"I'm okay," she says. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For leaving."

Static clips the scene. When it settles, Aerith is in a different position.

"What…?" Cloud asks. His mind is shifting jelly. He can't feel his body. "What is this place?"

Aerith smiles, but it's sorrowful.

"I...need to go. I just want you to know I'm okay. I think I found my purpose. The White Materia I carry, it's the balance. I was always meant to aid the Planet. I've gone to learn more."

Her image dissolves.

"No, wait!" he cries out.

She is gone. He tries to follow, but his movement is slow as if underwater. The luminescent forest is cyclical, endless.

The next thing he knows, he's alive. A breath pulls into lungs that expand and a body that moves. It shakes him awake. He sits up with a gasp.

The surroundings come into focus. He's in a room at an inn somewhere. Musty burgundy curtains hang over the window near the bed, and a clock ticks on the wall.

Tifa and Barret are here. Both look concerned.

"The temple," Cloud says at once, then regrets speaking because it pulses a hammer into his head. He lays back down and rests a hand atop his eyes. "Tifa, are you okay?"

There's a pause before she responds. "I'm fine. We were able to get out of there before… well, what exactly happened?"

"The whole damn structure imploded!" Barret says. "A miracle we managed to hightail it outta there. We thought you was dead."

So did Cloud. He groans and curls onto his side.

Tifa sits at the edge of the bed. She rests one hand on his side. He doesn't understand how his body isn't broken in a thousand places.

"Cloud… you were in the rubble. Unscathed. How did that happen?"

He mumbles, "I don't know." There's a chill buried in his flesh.

Tifa exhales. Barret shifts his weight.

"Cloud, there's something else."

Everything he'd seen and known was wrong. If Zack is alive, if Sephiroth is alive, then what good is anything he remembers at Nibelheim? What good is perceived reality?

"When we found you, you were holding this," Tifa says. She holds up a chunk of dense dark material. A shiny crystalline structure.

"Holding it?" Cloud repeats. That doesn't sound right.

The object is as large as Tifa's fist and the deepest black he's ever seen. He takes it from her, and the second his skin makes contact, he knows exactly what it is.

"The Black Materia," he says. Adrenaline flushes him awake.

It's a materia, no doubt. When he tries to focus on it, those same energies sync through the Mako in his body, but he can produce no reaction. The black sphere is inert, gleaming with brutal potential.

"That's the Black Materia?" Barret says. "Ain't it supposed to be, ya know, materia-sized?"

"This isn't any ordinary materia," Cloud says. "We've got to keep it safe. This is what Sephiroth is after."

A flash of the General, standing in the temple, comes to him. It had paralyzed him, held him unequivocally at its mercy. No, he can't tell Barret or Tifa about Zack and Sephiroth. None of that could've been real. Nothing can be trusted.

"There's...something else," Tifa says. "Aerith is gone."

The weight of the Materia feels good in his palm. "I know," he says. It sickens him to be apart from her. He should've never told her about Jenova. That's why she left.

North, Zack had said. Aerith must be with him. That's where they went, to Sephiroth.

"North," Cloud says. "She went north."

"Then we have to go after her," Barret says. "We gotta find her!"

Cloud stares into the Black Materia. Sephiroth had done something to him, kept him restrained without any sort of materia or visual means. He'd been useless as Aerith conjured that vortex of energies.

"I...I think I'm losing it," he admits. He looks up at Barret, then at Tifa. "I think I can't do this anymore."

"Whaddya mean?" Barret scowls. "You quittin' on us? After all this time? We followin' your ass around the planet, and now you just givin' up?"

Tifa implores, "Don't you want to settle up with Sephiroth? We still need to kick his ass, right?"

Cloud appreciates their strength, but it does not replenish his own.

"We got what we came for," Barret continues. "Got the Black Materia before Sephiroth did, so now we just gotta rescue Aerith."

"I don't think she needs rescuing," Cloud says. He pockets the Black Materia. It is of little comfort.

"That girl got mixed up in a whole lotta garbage, so she needs us. She can't face Sephiroth alone."

But Cloud doesn't correct that assumption. He doesn't know Aerith's intentions anymore. He puts his head in his hands.

"So that's it?" Barret goes on. "You just rollin' over and playin' dead the rest of this trip?"

"... I'm afraid," Cloud says. There's no use pretending.

Barret grunts, "Of what?"

"There's a lot I don't know."

"So?"

"About myself."

"That's what you're afraid of? Yourself?"

It sounds stupid when Barret says it, but yes, that's right. There's someone inside him he doesn't recognize. Something.

"You think you the only one in the world who don't understand themself? What happened to that cocky asshole I met in Sector One? He get crushed in all that rubble?"

Maybe.

"Shit, forget it, man. I'll be waiting outside for when yo' ass is thinking straight again."

Barret walks off, slamming the door.

Tifa rubs Cloud's shoulder. They are in a town called Gongaga, she explains, south of the Gold Saucer. An earthquake struck the temple, and they'd narrowly escaped before the entire structure sank into itself. It was sheer luck they found him in the wreckage.

"You were curled so tight around the Black Materia, all the way until we landed here. Cid piloted us out of there fast."

He feels ill. Tifa's touch is only somewhat grounding.

"I believe in you," she says. "Even if you are afraid, I'm not. And I'll be there with you."

Except he knows what she's truly afraid of. She'd told him in Cosmo Canyon.

"Whatever the truth is, we'll face it together. All of us. We'll find Aerith and stop Sephiroth. Isn't that right?"

Her candid resolve is admirable. He doesn't want to lose her companionship. And the only answers are ahead. Sephiroth and Aerith, the Black and White Materias. The Planet's essence is at stake, if Zack could be believed. If Zack even exists.

Cloud has no choice but to go forward.

"Okay, yes," Cloud says. "Yes, you're right. We'll go on. North, to help Aerith."

Tifa grins and kisses the edge of his mouth. She squeezes his hand. He returns her kiss, brushing her hair aside with his palm and holding her to him, but a terrible guilt rises and he releases her after not too long.

Outside, it's morning. He doesn't know how long he's slept, but everyone else seems rested. Gongaga is a small country town, burnt out from a Mako Reactor explosion years back, but that tragedy was overcome. Time moves all things onward.

The group expresses joy at his recovery and confusion over what happened at the temple. No two stories corroborate events, but everyone is relieved to be off that island. And with their treasure, too. Cloud keeps the Black Materia stowed. He describes the location he'd seen Aerith in his dream. Nobody questions the logic of following a dream. Aerith's exhibited plenty of bizarre abilities in the past, so dream-sharing doesn't seem too far-fetched.

"Pale luminous trees," Vincent says thoughtfully. "That sounds like the Sleeping Forest. It is on the northern continent. Quite far from here."

Gast's obsession with the Cetra led to many travels, one of which was an old Cetra city, Vincent relays, half-underwater in ruins and long abandoned. The Sleeping Forest surrounds it, with distinct white foliage known only to that region.

"What's beyond the Cetra city?" Cloud asks.

"Oh, snow and mountains. A ski resort, I believe, as well," Vincent says.

So the Sleeping Forest is their best bet at finding Aerith. After procuring fuel from a local vendor, they pile into the Wutai helicopter, and Cid pilots the craft up the coastline.

Cloud leans against the cabin door, listening to the others talk about each clue in their mission. He has nothing to add that wouldn't confuse matters and raise questions. He finds himself leaning against Tifa's shoulder, dozing, refusing to acknowledge the stirring in his chest. The writhing of disquiet and the pulse of another.