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Part II – Emergence
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The next sign arrived in the crystallisation of her flesh.
It was a gradual process, the transformation of smooth, pink skin into ugly, scaled disfigurations. Among the benefits that came with being l'Cie were Cure magic and an accelerated healing rate, both of which Lightning exploited to no end. Why concern herself when injuries – even life-threatening ones – could be patched up in a matter of seconds? A douse of the restorative spell, and skin, muscle and bone would knit themselves back together without a blemish to show for the damage they had sustained.
As expected, this led to her forgoing caution in combat. For all that she berated Snow for his recklessness, she wasn't much better. No, she did not deliberately seek trouble – that kind of idiocy favoured the less-disciplined – but nor did she bother with other, more diplomatic solutions should trouble find her. At any hint of danger, she would leap into action, gunblade drawn and flashing with the promise of violence. Interposing herself between enemy and comrade – especially if said comrade was Hope – also became a habit of hers, resulting in more bodily grievances than normal person ought to survive.
Therefore, when the crystals appeared on her skin, Lightning met the incident with grim acceptance. If there was one thing about her transformation she understood, it was that her human cells were dying and being replaced by Cie'th crystals. She could feel herself undergoing the change – each round of the injury-repair cycle would bring about a surge in power, a corresponding loss of her humanity. Eventually, she would reach the point where she was more crystal than human, and the shell that comprised her human appearance would crack open to reveal the monster within.
That point, as it transpired, was now.
She toppled face-first onto the ground, pain and exhaustion robbing her of the ability to stay upright. It was done: their scouting party of three – she, Sazh and Vanille – had managed to survive the Uridimmu ambush.
Upon entering the Archylte Steppe, she had felt that prickle between her shoulder blades: a keen, unshakable awareness that something was following them. Indeed, no more than five minutes had passed before the pack of wolf-beasts descended upon them, silver eyes gleaming with bloodlust and saliva dripping from their many-fanged jaws.
The ensuing battle was brutal. Handicapped by their ranged weapons and the close combat tactics of their assailants, Sazh and Vanille had to rely on Lightning's protection in order to fight effectively. So she'd provoked, danced between and endured blows from the Uridimmu, buying time as her teammates' bullets and elemental spells hailed from the sides and felled their enemies one by one.
Of course, playing sentinel had rather unpleasant downsides.
The adrenaline rush that had accompanied the battle now began to subside, jagged shards of pain taking its place. Had Lightning not been otherwise conditioned, she'd be howling in agony. Her left arm hung like a dead weight at her side, the shoulder clearly dislocated, and her back bore gouges from where the Uridimmu's foot-long claws had ripped through fabric and into flesh. Light-headedness from blood loss completed the experience. Invincible l'Cie or no, she needed medical attention straightaway.
"Lightning?" she identified the hushed, pitying voice as Vanille's. "Oh, Light…"
There was a rustling of grass as the Oerban girl settled beside her. Tentative fingers peeled the epaulet away from her injured shoulder, and she felt a brief tingle of magic.
"Sazh?" Vanille called out.
Lightning heard the footfalls of approaching boots. "Right here," a man's voice, low and gruff with middling age, answered.
"She's dislocated her shoulder. Can you—?"
Behind her, Lightning imagined Sazh giving a nod. There was more rustling, and a large, warm presence settled on her other side. A gloved hand closed around her left bicep, another grasping her opposite shoulder.
"Alright, soldier girl, brace yourself. This is gonna sting some."
He was not remiss in his description. Pain, white-hot and blinding, consumed her as the joint was wrenched back into its socket. She ground her teeth to stifle the accompanying cry. Years of military training had taught her not to bite down on her tongue, but it was a near thing. To her relief, Vanille's Cure spells dampened the pain in the next instant, restoring the damaged ligaments and drawing a shaky sigh from her.
The frayed edges of her vest were pulled apart next – she didn't want to contemplate the mending that would require – exposing her slash wounds to the cool air. Her muscles seized up involuntarily – god, it hurt like hell. They seized up still more when the necessary disinfectant was poured onto her back. Somehow, through the violent, fiery prickling, she managed to make out Vanille's apologies and Sazh's muttered attempts at comfort. Again, the pain receded as healing magic flooded into her body, coaxing new flesh to grow and close over the wounds. Soothed by the magic's gentle warmth, she opened her mouth to offer her gratitude—
Then Vanille gasped.
Were she not in full possession of her impulses, she would have leapt up and undid all of Vanille's handiwork. As it were, she forced her limbs to lie still, directing her command to her vocal chords instead.
"What is it?"
"It's – it's n-nothing!" the Oerban girl spluttered. "It's nothing, alright?"
"Vanille." A reprimand from Sazh.
"I didn't—! It's not supposed to turn out like this—" Vanille choked, dissolving into inarticulate whimpers.
"Sazh, what is wrong?"
The former pilot sighed. When he spoke, his words were careful, measured. "It's not looking pretty, Lightning."
She racked her brain for the most logical conclusion. "The wounds aren't healing properly?"
"S'not that." He gave another sigh, the sound quickly lost amidst Vanille's whimpers. "Maybe you oughta check it out for yourself."
Impatient, yet filled with dread at the same time, Lightning levered herself up into a sitting position and twisted her arm around, reaching for the newly repaired wounds on her back. The hard, scaly bumps that met her fingertips made her freeze in alarm. Disbelieving, she ran her fingers across the patch of not-skin over and over again. Prodded it, poked it, searched around and beneath it for any traces of the smooth, supple flesh she had been accustomed to for all her life. But as the seconds ticked by and proved her search increasingly futile, an idea took root in her mind and solidified into cold, hard certainty.
Yes, her wounds had healed over. With crystal.
Lightning brought her arm back and let it fall into her lap with a dull thud. So this was it. Her fears – buried under the combined weight of frustration at their ever-worsening circumstances and stubborn resolve to reunite with Serah – were at last coming to be realised. The mental decline was already well on its way; all that remained was for the physical transformation to catch up and strip away the remaining dregs of her humanity.
She was turning into Cie'th. They all were. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.
As if to voice their triumph, the voices in her head – having evolved into a near-constant background hubbub, now – roared. She couldn't contain the resulting flinch, prompting Sazh to cast her a sympathetic grimace and Vanille to burst into tears.
"Lightning, I'm sorry!" The Oerban girl hunched over, pressing her face into her hands. "I'm so s-sorry! I never meant for any of this to happen…"
Taken aback by the younger female's distress, Lightning could do little but call out her name in reply. "Vanille…"
But it only made Vanille cry harder. "It's all my fault, I k-know it is!" she wailed, her breath coming in broken gasps. "If I hadn't messed things up on Cocoon, you wouldn't have been Purged and – and t-turned into l'Cie and—"
"Vanille," overrode Sazh in a firm tone, "listen to me. None of us meant for this to happen, alright?"
Hiccupping, the Oerban girl raised her head. Large, watery eyes peered through the gaps between her fingers. "B-But I—"
Sazh clapped a hand on Vanille's shoulder, putting an immediate halt to the girl's half-spoken protest. "No buts. We can't keep worrying about what happened in the past; we need to concentrate on the 'now'." He met Lightning's gaze in a quick glance before turning back to Vanille. "I guess that means we'll just have to get to your village quicker, find our answers."
"Okay." Vanille sniffed, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. "Okay, Sazh. We'll do this. We'll go to Oerba."
He patted her on the back. "There's a good girl." Satisfied that Vanille's hysteria had subsided, he returned his attention to Lightning. "Y'know soldier, maybe you're overdoing it," he said quietly. "Take it easy for a bit, alright?"
She looked away from him, onto the endless plains and the equally endless trials they would bring. "I – we – can't afford to," she replied, voice hard. Rising to her feet in one decisive motion, she wiped her bloodstained gunblade on the grass before switching it into gun-form and holstering it. "Time's running out."
