XVI

CHAPTER XVI

THE NIBELHEIM INCIDENT:

THOSE CHOSEN BY THE PLANET

The blood on the crown of his head was still warm as his fingers caressed thick lumps of matted hair; he could not have been unconscious for long. His legs had knotted as he fell, numbed now by the distorted circulation, aching as he dragged himself to his feet in the quiet library. He inhaled lastingly, hoping the oxygen would help lessen the pain of his throbbing skull, and gripped the corner of the desk for support as his thoughts steadily began to return. As his blurred vision settled on the maroon leather armchair, Cloud's eyes shot open with a start, and he was overwhelmed by the sudden horrific comprehension.

Sephiroth…

The following moments seemed to race past without his full awareness, as if he were watching himself in a dream. He felt strangely removed from his pounding muscles as he limped down the passage, into the cavern, up the tower stairwell; his thumping head was ready to explode. The second floor corridor of the mansion reached without end into a darkened forever as he stumbled hurriedly to the main foyer, its haunting walls closing in around him. Abruptly, he came to the staircase, descended, scurried across the hallway, and wrapped his hand around the worn handle of the old oak door, pulling as hard as he could.

Cloud's heart stopped as the furious blast of crisp warm air assaulted his skin, a muffled cry escaping his lips as he saw the inferno of orange flames climbing into the night sky above the town. He staggered down the garden path of the manor's grounds towards the mangled gate of hewed iron that clung despairingly to the redbrick wall, at last breaking onto the rocky dirt trail. The hurt of his injuries vanished instantly as the agony of the sight sent adrenaline streaming through his blood, driving him forward in the direction of the burning Nibelheim.

Terrible…Sephiroth, this is too terrible…

Past the orchard and cottages of the town's border he scrambled, coughing and gasping for air, feeling the searing heat of the fires inside each home as he fought his way through the dense smoke that billowed from windows and doorways. His thoughts were a whirlwind as he witnessed the flames creeping over the shingled rooftops of the houses, charring their sandstone walls, and melting the hanging wind chimes. The image of his mother's face flashed in his mind, forcing him to run faster, panicked by the fear of a fate she may already have met. The trail had already broadened to form the declining paved street before an eerie realisation seized Cloud.

Where the hell are the villagers? Where are the screams? Where is the help?

He charged on through the blaze, almost losing his balance as he came to the wide concrete stairs at the edge of the town square. Through the black clouds, he could make out the smouldering shops on the precinct's circumference, and the crumbling and futile water tower at its centre. The bedroom annex of Gramps' Inn had completely collapsed around the building's entrance, exposing its disintegrated interior. Darting down the steps, he reeled to a halt, faced by a scene he had hoped not to find.

More than a dozen townspeople lay slaughtered across the ground, dark blood oozing from the multiple sword wounds. They had been shown no mercy, their corpses left in the same sadistic positions as they had fallen. Dread enveloped him again, and he started towards the eastern boulevard, his legs heavy and unwilling to carry him to his old home. Swaying drunkenly as he moved, intoxicated by his inability to compute what was happening, he weaved among the silent bodies, yanking the Buster Sword from across his shoulder as a figure burst from the smog of the street before him.

"Cloud!" whimpered the young soldier, his quivering voice filling with sorrow as he saw his friend. "I tried to save her…I tried…but she…"

"Who?" Cloud asked desolately, but closed his eyes, for he already knew the answer.

"Your mother…"

The words hit him like a train wreck. The intensity of the flames; the anger of betrayal; all of it; everything was gone in that moment. A void of hopelessness opened beneath him. He was on his knees. Tears plunged down his cheeks. There was no sound; nothing. His stomach churned, his mouth was dry; Claudia's radiant beauty was all that he could see. Guilt swallowed him. He had abandoned her. It was Cloud's fault she had died. His and his alone.

No…it is another's. There will be a time to grieve. There will be a time to mourn my mother's passing. But, it is not now. Now is the time to seek revenge for these atrocities. Get up! Get up, Cloud! Sephiroth must pay for what he has done…

"Hey!"

The booming voice cut through the thick air like a fog horn. It woke Cloud from his misery, returning him to the awfulness of the present. He sprang to his feet, his heart roaring, grabbing the Buster Sword from aside him. Across the plaza, Zangan was bent over the young photographer outside the Nibel Accessories store, trying hastily to exert pressure on Rick's bleeding chest. Motivated only by seething hatred as his eyes fell upon the dying boy, Cloud dashed towards them, the infantryman at his heels.

"You're still sane, right?" Zangan called vindictively as they approached, brushing loose strands of bushy grey hair from his sweaty face as he frantically struggled to save Rick's life. His red mantle was torn, and his beard was singed; it was evidence of a battle for his own survival amidst the chaos.

"How can anyone stay sane in a situation like this?" replied Cloud bitterly, summoning all his mental strength to block out images of his mother.

"Everyone called him a hero!" snarled Zangan, "Tonight, Sephiroth has proven himself nothing more than a murderer. He used Firaga magic more powerful than any I've ever seen. All of Nibelheim was engulfed in seconds. The villagers didn't stand a chance."

"Why did…he do this…?" strained Rick, his features frail as he lay propped against the wall of the shop.

"Hey, hang in there, lad," comforted Zangan. "We'll get you some help…"

"Are there any more survivors?" asked Cloud.

"A few," he answered, dabbing the young man's forehead as he emitted a faint moan. "I checked most of the houses that were still standing, but there is little hope. Your Turk friend has already set off up the mountain in search of Sephiroth…as has Tifa…"

"Tifa went after Sephiroth?" stammered Cloud, his chest heaving in alarm.

"Her father is at the Reactor," sighed Zangan, shaking his head. "I tried to stop her. She thinks she can protect him…but she is no match for Sephiroth. Only a SOLDIER like you can challenge him."

"Then, we have to go!" Cloud ordered, nodding once at his comrade. "Now! Before anyone else is hurt."

"Take care of Tifa," pleaded Zangan, his strong gaze burning into Cloud's. "You're the only one who can…"

The final words were dulled out as there came an explosion of glass from behind them. Cloud spun quickly, his sword aloft, only to witness the shards of an old lamppost's light blast in the soaring temperatures across the street leading from the square's steps. Oil spurted from the lamp, dousing the raised pathway in wildfire.

At the centre of the blaze lingered an unflinching Sephiroth, his Masamune drawn, his maddened eyes watching Cloud. Tongues of fire licked his trenchcoat, slithering over his body like scorching tentacles. With no sign of remorse for the massacre he had committed, Sephiroth turned, and began through the flames towards the Mount Nibel Mako Reactor.

"…I didn't really know what I was doing at the time," admitted Cloud, feeling the soundless stares of the group on him. A cold breeze swept through the inn bedroom, rattling the floorboards, and fluttering the cloth curtains over the girls' bed. Aerith, Barret, and Red XIII waited with complete absorption as the tale neared its climax, ignorant of the grief that had befallen the distracted Tifa. "I was in a blind rage. I don't know how I made it up the mountain or how I became separated from my friend. All I remember is reaching the Reactor…"

The white plastic walls rushed by as Cloud careered along the entrance passage of the facility, his wheezing lungs set to rupture, grateful to already be detecting a lighter concentration of Mako gas in the atmosphere than the previous week. Pounding down the cold stairwell to the foot of the steps, he sped through the corridors at the Reactor's humid interior, his legs pumping harder as he saw Samantha sprawled across the floor. The hallway around her was torn and bent, as if struck by an intense shockwave.

"Samantha?" he gasped, skidding to his knees by her side, shaking her forcefully by the shoulders. "Hey! Samantha, tell me you're alive!"

"Huh…?" she groaned, wincing in pain as she came to. Cloud helped the Turk sit up, her long hair pasted to her bruised forehead with dirt and sweat.

"What happened?"

"Sephiroth…" she said groggily. "He…he was talkin' funny. Didn't make any sense. I tried to stop him…but he…he's too strong…"

"Can you get up?" he asked, studying her for a concussion.

"Just a little longer…"

"Okay, stay here," Cloud instructed. "I'm gonna go find Tifa, then I'll come back for you."

Not waiting as Samantha gave him a sloppy wave, he galloped farther along the corridor, soon coming to the gaping bowel of the Reactor. An anxious glance saw Tifa beneath him on the platform to the control room, and he slid down the greasy ladders with urgency, sensing that something was terribly wrong as he leapt the final few rungs.

He stopped, the soft sobbing reaching his ears for the first time. Tifa knelt by the body of her father, cradling his head in her hands. Even from the walkway, Cloud could see the pool of dark blood forming on the man's back; the wound had been fatal. The Masamune lay by his side, the long blade stained in red. How many had it slain that night? Tifa began stroking her father's face, running her fingers through his hair with great tenderness.

"Papa?" she whispered, her trembling voice floating over the air like a ghost. "It was Sephiroth. Sephiroth did this to you, didn't he?"

"Tifa…?"

She turned to Cloud, peering up at him from saddened eyes. A single tear rolled down her cheek, marking a path through the grime on her jaw. She wiped it away, her expression filling with wrath. Cloud stared at her, unable to speak, to comfort her in some way. Silence fell between them, the presence of death too much for words. Tifa embraced her father dearly, eventually lowering his head gently to the floor. Standing, she snatched up the Masamune, her eyes fixed on the arched entrance of the control room.

"You came to this village just to investigate the disappearances, didn't you?" she wept. "All I wanted was to help. How did it turn out like this?"

"Tifa…"

"Sephiroth...SOLDIER...Mako Reactors...Shinra...everything," she said through clenched teeth, darting through the doorway. "I hate you all-"

"Tifa, no!" yelled Cloud, sprinting after her, knowing he was almost out of time.

No more…please, no more…

Sephiroth's unnatural voice resounded down the short passage as he ran, his vision rapidly growing accustomed to the deep red. The room seemed much less alive than it had the week before, but no less eerie; the pods had been emptied of the makonoids by the Company's scientists and relocated. Sephiroth stood at the height of the staircase, his arms outstretched as if in prayer, his echoing words directed at the plaque above the doorway to Jenova's chamber.

"…Mother, I've come," he beamed, lost in his own inspired delusion. "I'm here to see you."

"Sephiroth!" screamed Tifa, the Masamune drawn behind her, racing purposefully up the steps. "How could you do that to papa?"

Though only a few feet behind her at the base of the stairs, Cloud stalled as she reached Sephiroth, realising in that instant that he had lost. It's over…I'm too late. His entire world slowed almost to a standstill, leaving him powerless to stop the unfolding events. As Tifa brought the enormous blade thundering down on Sephiroth, the SOLDIER twisted swiftly on the spot. Without effort, he caught the handle in his palm, lifting it and the horrified girl into the air.

Their gazes locked; Tifa's was one of loathing, Sephiroth's of pure amusement. His maniacal expression fleetingly ridiculed the vain attempt to attack him, but suddenly fell into contempt, breaking her grip from the sword. Tifa landed on the grilled walkway, barely able to regain her poise before Sephiroth struck. Cloud could do little but cry out in anguish as the Masamune sliced across her chest, the brutality of the blow launching her backwards.

Tifa's limp body crashed against the rigid steps, bouncing once, and tumbled awkwardly down the remaining few. Cloud scrambled to catch her, to save her from more pain, but felt her fragile figure unmoving in his shaking arms. The gash on her ribs was grave, her shirt soaked with seeping blood. The sparkle had left her eyes, draining with it the vitality and exuberance he had always known in her. Anger welled inside him, more resolute than any he had ever experienced. Glancing up, there came a bleep from the electronic lock, and the doorway to Jenova's chamber momentarily parted, shrouding the eager Sephiroth with a cloud of icy gas as he entered.

'I hate you all', Cloud thought as he set Tifa's still body against the nearest pod, that's what you said. I won't ask you to forgive me for what has happened…just allow me to put an end to this…

Fury infected his mind once more as he took a final heart-breaking look at his childhood friend, and began boldly up the staircase. The climb seemed to last forever, begging him until the last seconds not to oppose his Captain. He's not my Captain any longer. The faces of the dead marched alongside him as he ascended the steps, laying their vengeance upon his recalled his time in the Shinra Army, his missions as a SOLDIER. He had been charged with maintaining peace in Shinra, Inc.'s empire. Tifa was right; how had it come to this?

With a mighty swing of the Buster Sword, Cloud cleaved the engraved doorway into a dozen shards. The ethereal fingers of the chilled mist bade him beyond the entrance and into the chamber, where he came to a broad platform overlooking the swirling rivers deep within the mountain. The scaling walls of the secret hollow were plated by long panels of immaculate aluminium, encircling the elevated plinth at the room's core, lit only by the pale green Mako and what little spotlights targeted the centrepiece. The pedestal was kept aloft by thick steel framework, passing to and fro across the cavernous pit below.

Sephiroth strode almost gleefully along the rubbery extension that bridged the space between the room's ingress and the podium, the tails of his cloak bounding gracefully behind him. He stopped at the pinnacle of the extension, gazing attentively at the metallic effigy before him. The masked angel statuette rested upon the base of a darkened capsule, not unlike a headstone, rising up with spanning wings as if willing to break free. It appeared to be some sort of elaborate filtration system, feeding the purified Mako into the tank behind. Again, Sephiroth held his arms out, welcoming himself into her presence.

"Mother…" he said enthusiastically, "it is I, your son. I have come for you, Mother. I have come for you so that we may take this Planet back for ourselves. I…I've had an epiphany: let's go to the Promised Land-"

"Sephiroth!" bellowed Cloud, the mere sight of his foe instilling newfound strength through his hatred for the man. "My mum…my hometown…how could you do this to them? Answer me!"

"They've come again, Mother," chuckled Sephiroth, lowering his arms to his side, not taking his eyes from the bosom of the angel. His tone was one of revulsion, choosing to address the sculpture rather than his subordinate. "Mother, with your superior knowledge, power, and magic, you were destined to rule this Planet. But, they…those worthless fools…those wretched beings…they stole the Planet from you. Though, don't worry, Mother. I am here. I am with you now…"

Suddenly, Sephiroth grabbed the abdomen of the statuette with both hands and heaved with the force of a behemoth. The excruciating grinding of metal reverberated around the chamber as he tore the body of the angel from its foundation, sending sparks fizzing between the disconnected livewires as the wings detached and fell away. A strange brown liquid bubbled from inside the open mouth of the effigy, trickling down its masked face, spraying across the podium as Sephiroth tossed it dismissively into the depths.

With a hiss of energy, the great capsule came to life. Brilliant lights awoke to illuminate the naked humanoid figure of Jenova, fully immersed in a transparent blue chemical. Her silver hair and lean face frighteningly resembled Sephiroth's, though her left eye shone with an unnerving red glow, concealed to an extent by a chrome helmet bearing her name and the date of her discovery. Her sinewy flesh was worn and frayed in places, wrapped by an unusual growth of organic matter, and pierced throughout by wires designed to preserve her ancient body. Sephiroth gasped with joy as he saw her, placing a hand on the cold glass in an attempt to become closer to her.

"We meet at last, Mother," he said contentedly, "so you won't have to feel sadness anymore-"

"Sadness?" roared Cloud, his grip tightening on the leather handle of the Buster Sword as he slowly began across the tube extension towards the plinth. "Is that what this is all about? Sadness? What about my sadness? What about the sadness of all those who lost their friends and family tonight? Isn't that the same as your sadness?"

"My sadness?" laughed Sephiroth, engrossed in his study of the woman suspended in the tank, carelessly ignorant as Cloud drew nearer. "What do I have to be sad about? I am the Chosen One. I have been chosen to be the leader of this Planet. I have orders to take back this Planet from your foolish race and return it to the hands of the Cetra. That is why I was born; that is my calling. And I am doing all this for Mother. What am I supposed to be sad about?"

"Sephiroth, have you completely lost your mind?" growled Cloud from behind him, pressing the thick blade of the Buster Sword against his neck. Sephiroth's hands slipped from the glass, his breathing long and hard. He contemptuously turned his face to meet Cloud's uncompromising stare, his lips again forming a menacing smile. "I…I trusted you. No…you're not the Sephiroth I used to know…"

"You traitor!" snarled Sephiroth, slipping the Masamune from its sheath before Cloud could react, the screech of metal ringing out around them as the swords clashed.

"…and that's the end of my story."

"Wait a damn minute!" spluttered Barret, hastily rolling over on his mattress, a confused expression written across his bristly features. "Ain't there more?"

"I don't know…" sighed Cloud with a shrug, unwilling to take his eyes from his duvet. "The next thing I remember is meeting Tifa at the Train Graveyard…five years later…"

"Amnesia, huh?" grunted Barret. "You don't remember nothin'?"

"Nothing," repeated Cloud. "The whole thing feels like it only happened last week."

"Then, your mum…" Aerith gasped, holding a hand to her mouth. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah…I, uh…I'd rather not talk about it…"

"Maybe we can help you find the pieces of the puzzle during our journey?" she offered, her sweet voice floating through the room. "Y'know…solve the mystery of your past."

"I doubt it," said Cloud. "I don't even know where to begin."

"Well, you have to start somewhere," she insisted. "For example, what happened to Sephiroth?"

"Official reports state Sephiroth is dead," answered Tifa, her voice quiet.

Although participating in the conversation, she seemed withdrawn. Her reddened cheeks suggested she had shed a tear for her father as Cloud recounted the tragedy of Nibelheim, but something was amiss. She appeared troubled by the story, but not in a manner that Cloud had expected, and it stirred some uneasy questions in his mind. Was she hiding something?

"How d'you know that?" said Barret.

"I read it in the newspaper while I was recovering at the hospital in Midgar."

"You were in a hospital in Midgar?" asked Aerith with surprise. "How did you get there?"

"I don't know," murmured Tifa. "The staff said that a man had checked me in, but left soon after. They couldn't even give me a description of him because he kept his face hidden. He never gave them a name and never returned, so I didn't get a chance to thank him. I was in a bad way back then, and spent a few months in intensive care. It was during my rehab that I heard about Sephiroth."

"Well, Shinra own the media," Aerith shook her head, "so we can't really rely on that information."

"I want to know the truth," said Cloud, pensively. "I want to know what really happened. I challenged Sephiroth and lived. In terms of skill, I couldn't have defeated him. Why didn't he kill me? What happened to him after that?"

"It seems like a lot of this doesn't add up," moaned Aerith. "What about Jenova? Didn't you say her body was in Hojo's lab when you came to rescue me?"

"Hojo must have shipped it from the Reactor to Midgar sometime after Nibelheim was destroyed," concluded Cloud. "That means Sephiroth didn't get away. But, when we saw Jenova, she was missing her head. I still don't know what to make of that."

"Or why someone stole the body from the Shinra Building," agreed Aerith. "Somebody must have seen them carrying it out?"

"Someone did," Cloud reminded her. "The blood trail from her containment led straight to the Great Hall where Palmer said he witnessed Sephiroth murder President Shinra."

"So, Sephiroth has definitely returned?" gulped Tifa, pulling the blanket tighter over herself and Aerith as she curled up for warmth. A shrill wind howled as she spoke, as if the Planet recognised the severity of the situation.

"Yeah," Cloud nodded, his muscles tensing with abhorrence. He's back…

"Damn, man!" grumbled Barret, gazing distantly at the ceiling as he lay his head on his pillow. "Don't none o' this make any sense? I dunno 'bout you folks, but I ain't lettin' Sephiroth or Shinra get to no Promised Land. If they do, then we're all screwed. An' on that note, I've done enough thinkin' for one night. I'm gonna get some rest. I suggest y'all do the same…we got a long day ahead o' us tomorrow."

"The Cetra…Jenova…Sephiroth…and myself…" whispered Aerith as she leaned over to extinguish the bedside candle, mumbling absent-mindedly to herself. "We are all connected somehow…"

Having almost succumbed to the veil of weariness that had ensnared him before his retelling of the Nibelheim incident, Cloud was now wide awake. The nearby hollers of pub-dwellers and shuffling footsteps of midnight ramblers on the street below were all that broke the tranquillity of Kalm until at last the gentle snoring of his comrades reached his ears. His thoughts were overcast by Sephiroth, whose leering face was all that he could see as he closed his eyes.

What had really happened that night? Sephiroth was alive...and he had reclaimed the body of Jenova. But, why? Why did he need her? Why was he in search of the Promised Land? The questions continued to haunt him until not even he could fight the shadow of sleep. As he drifted from consciousness, he barely heard Red XIII yawn and speak with hushed words into the darkness.

"What a fascinating story…"

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