Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII or the characters that may or may not appear in this story. These belong to Square-Enix and them alone.

Places of Origin

By Lady Winde

The Prologue: The Inevitable Omega

With every beginning there comes an end. Such is life and how it should be.

Vincent Valentine slid a solitary finger along the surface of the piano keys, crimson eyes following the clear path that was cut through the thick dust. The loud drums of thunder echoed through out the dark mansion, their cries and shouts barely showing an interest to the lone figure in the candle-lit room. He wasn't going to allow the roars and rumbles to interrupt his thoughts, no matter how loud their cries demanded to be acknowledged.

His eyes slowly closed, dark lashes showing the contrast of his pale skin; was he trying to unlock a lost memory buried deep within the confines of his person? Lost in thought, the single key his finger had rested upon slowly fell, sinking until that one note triggered it all. Mechanically his fingers moved along the ivory slabs. First one and then the other. With each key pressed a lock was then twisted and open.

The shadows twirled and fluttered to the melancholic melody, the sort of guests he was most familiar and comfortable with. Better them than the unyielding darkness of a coffin where the nightmares chose to inhabit. They watched the man silently, only to disappear briefly to hide from the harsh lightning that danced outside.

Scarlet eyes were slowly revealed as the song continued to probe the air as if searching for others to listen. There was a time long ago when the Shinra Mansion, the very house whose walls surrounded him, was maintained, every room was cheerfully illuminated to match the cozy atmosphere the rooms were welcome to provide, and when the guests who would frequent were of the utmost importance they required the assistance and protection provided by Shinra's very own Turks.

There were parties only the rich could attend, the jubilance and the extravagance of such events did well to hide the dark secrets that the building held deep below its basements. All was faded away through the stretch of time and the large mansion was a testament to that final truth. Nothing could escape. Except for Vincent Valentine.

His fingers slowly came to a stop, the tune faded from the air and memory as his attention was turned to the large murky windows, their tattered drapes covered in dust. An unexpected screech echoed as he pushed the bench away from the piano, the sudden movement sent a small cloud of dust to swirl around his feet as he walked to his intended destination.

The obnoxious thunder had stopped, perhaps annoyed that they were ignored by the former Turk, and the rain had finally softened in its downpour. Vincent raised his leather clad hand, wiping away the caked grime with a single swipe. There was something that had been troubling him, though it barely showed on his brow.

Why had he returned to the accursed mansion?

Perhaps it was the only logical choice to those that had observed him. There was even a possibility that through out their gossipy speculation even he had begun to believe it. Why else go back to the place that was not only a monument of what could be called his own death but also where the planet's path to almost utter destruction had been paved and... born. And he didn't need to be reminded of the coffin...

Vincent continued to stare out onto the deserted streets of Nibelheim, his breath formed a slight mist on the pane of glass. Save for the rain, there was only silence. His shoulders sagged beneath his crimson cloak as his low exhale formed a cloud of misty breath. He turned back to look into the abandoned ballroom, standing in the absolute hush the room could only provide.

This was a place for broken memories; things that were meant to be buried and locked up, never to resurface again.

A swift change in the gunman's chosen lighting jerked him out of his silent musing, forcing his attentions to a blossoming fire feasting off of the dusty cloth that coiled around a rusted candleholder. Below the scarlet cloth that carelessly wrapped his head, red eyes absorbed the glow of the growing flame as they observed in awe.

In but a few moments the flame spread along the mantle, the dust and scattered papers along the rotted wood welcomed the purifying heat. Vincent remained leaning against the grimy windows, a slight smirk playing along his lips.

"So..." His soft voice finally choosing to join the crackle of the burning that filled the air, "It happens at last... What was born of nightmares and madness will finally..." He pushed himself from the wall as he reached beneath his cloak, "burn to ash..."

This house was not to be his place of stay after all. Not that he minded.

His hand finally reappeared as Vincent stalked out of the room, the Fire Materia sparkling in his grasp. With a clear objective Vincent Valentine dedicated himself to the task at hand. The gunman ignored the freakish creatures, no doubt twisted experiments broken free from their cages, which shrieked about in confusion and alarm as the smoke traveled through out the dark house.

As he entered the room a gentle breeze caressed his form, tugging at the tips of his hair and cloak. A hint of determination played along his usually impassive features as he neared the secret entrance to the basement responsible for the birth of the darkest nightmares imaginable.

His clawed hand felt along the dust-caked bricks, the leather beneath the metal talons searching and probing for the key to the underworld that lay beneath his feet. With a sudden push and twist the path was abruptly opened, a rotten smell began to radiate from the passageway. Ignoring the unpleasant stench he continued onward, making his way through the web filled halls and fallen rotted beams.

As he walked through the lair of nightmares and darkness he couldn't help but think of the irony. He had originally come to the building, confused and almost ready to take up residence at this "abandoned" estate. Only fate had pushed him to this impulsive decision, and really only she had to provide was but a simple nudge.

There wouldn't be a soul alive that would be sad to see the building burn to ash, and there wasn't anyone more fitting than Vincent Valentine to toss the lighted torch. Awkward creatures gnarled and growled as the man made his way to the library and lab: the most important rooms in all the building that had to be burned.

As the ex-Turk reached the desk at the center of the library, he paused as he took in the surrounding area. Shades from the past stirred from within his buried memories. Unblinking eyes took in the vision of a ghost of a woman sitting at the edge, hurriedly flipping through pages of a thick book that rested beside her hip.

A slender hand reached up to move a tendril of chestnut colored hair from her rosy cheeks. Just as she looked up she seemed to recognize Vincent. But she wasn't looking at him... Her gaze pierced through his being, looking at someone who hadn't stepped a single foot into book-filled room in thirty years. As a bright smile adorned her features she was suddenly gone with a flash. Lucretia and the book had disappeared.

Vincent closed his eyes as he took in a deep breath, slowly letting his chest rise against the weight of the deep scarlet cloak. There was a reason why he had avoided trekking down the lab. Steadily the man raised his gloved hand, the green orb twinkling with life as it was held tightly within his grasp.

"Farewell Lucretia."

With but a flicker of a thought, hot fire leapt from the materia setting the various tomes ablaze. His wrist carefully aimed at the feet of the various bookcases. He couldn't help but feel the twitch in his lips as he thought just what Hojo would do if he knew all his research would be burnt to ash.

His body suddenly jerked, a cough wishing to escape his lungs as the thick smoke from the fires billowed in thick clouds around him. Just how long had he been staring at the fires?

Before another moment could escape him, Vincent pulled up the thick collar of his cloak over his face as he pivoted on the heel of his boot to make his escape. His eyes were beginning to burn and his lashes were wet with the tearing that began to form, he bit back an oath as he continued onward.

His feet however abruptly halted at the feet of the lab. The very lab where he was murdered and created. Vincent's metal gauntlet shielded his face from the powerful blast as the materia was activated once more.

Perched on the edge of a rooftop a solitary figure watched the once proud building burn through out the dank night. The dark lashes lowered themselves as a raspy sigh was finally released, the gunman falling back with exhaustion. The moon, along with silver lined clouds that hugged her possessively, was there to greet him as he opened his sore eyes once more. With the dark smoke that climbed the air, trying to mingle with the atmosphere, Vincent swore that in that precise moment he had never seen a night's sky more beautiful.

The faint sound of rotted wood could be heard through out the vacant town moaning as it was about to break. It was as if the house was crying out in pain, the sort of panic one would expect from someone desperately fighting to stay alive.

"Just die... fade into the memories where you belong," Vincent's whisper flew from his lips and was carried along the wind. As if on command, a part of the house collapse, the shattering of glass and the roar of the fires pierced the air.

With its sinister secrets, the once proud Shinra Mansion and her memories was burned and finally put to rest. There where no more research notes on Hojo and Gast's findings, there were no more reminders of the beauty that once accompanied them. With each wall that fell so did the chains that had held Vincent Valentine down.

He was finally free as it were, but a sudden thought flickered through his tired mind. Just where was he to sleep?