Broken Wings - Chapter Eighty-Two
Sephiroth's Masamune was bared, his knuckles white as he clenched the hilt. In his other hand, he held a materia so dark that the purple seemed black. The materia shimmered darkly, as if sensing what its master was going to do.
He strode onward past the Shinra guards, not attempting to fight back other than sweeping them aside when they got in his way. He didn't particularly care if they died or not. His quarrel was not with them.
The guards missed neither the absence of the glow of insanity in the Soldier's eyes nor how they had lost the luster that indicated a strong, driven blood lust. His emerald eyes always looked forward, but a mist clouded them, and they might have been the unseeing eyes of a dead man.
One lucky guard managed to hit Sephiroth with the sharp end of his shattered sword, drawing blood that ran freely down the General's arm. Sephiroth did not flinch, and did not seek revenge, only continued his steady advance forward.
The command came from Rufus for the guards to stand down, to let him advance. Puzzled, but bound by oath to obey, they sheathed their weapons and stepped aside.
Sephiroth stopped at the large, bolted door. With his back still turned to the guards, he spoke in a lifeless, toneless voice.
"Tell Rufus not to come after me."
One slash of the Masamune and the thick iron door fell aside, and Sephiroth disappeared into the cloudy darkness of Jenova's cell.
No one dared to speak to Vincent when he entered the Seventh Heaven for the first time in weeks. His ruby eyes were flaming, and his face spoke of fury. He walked with purpose, not glancing at any of Avalanche.
But someone had to ask him what was on all of their minds. Yuffie, convinced by the blunt end of Cid's spear jabbed into her thigh, finally squeaked it out.
"Where's Aralyn?"
Vincent stopped dead, his eyebrows furrowing. "Dead," he said quietly, still managing to sound harsh and accusing.
Every member of Avalanche took this with varying degrees of sympathy. Barret only nodded briskly, seeming undisturbed, while Tifa hung her head, her expression unreadable.
Cloud's eyes had only darkened. "Then where is Sephiroth?"
Vincent hesitated. "I have not seen him in weeks. For the first few days, there were feathers on the water, so I assumed he had visited her grave, but now…nothing. He's disappeared."
Cid nodded, seemingly in approval. "Let him taste what he's put so many others through."
Tifa looked out the window. "That doesn't make this whole affair any less tragic. He must be devastated…"
Sephiroth's demeanor was entirely different from the last time he had been in this chamber. Though he was every bit as calm and determined as he had been last time, this time his objective, clearly made present in his eyes, was not to rescue.
It was to kill.
Cloud felt the difference immediately. It was if something had died within him, leaving a void, a hunger. Vincent looked at him, nodding. "You feel it too?"
"What is this?" Cloud exclaimed, confused.
"You will recover," Vincent assured him. "And if you are so affected, imagine what Sephiroth must be going through right now."
"Jenova…" Cloud's eyes widened in understanding. "He killed her?"
Again, Vincent nodded.
"Why?" Cloud persisted. "She was his mother."
"She was not!" Vincent insisted. Cloud realized instantly that this violent outburst had been seen as an insult to Lucrecia. Avalanche wisely let silence mend the hurt.
Vincent shook his head. "Why would he not?" he said in answer to Cloud's question. He retreated upstairs.
Tifa pondered the events that had occurred under the shade of the glittering white trees again, feeling the somber remnants of the horror at the still vivid images in her mind.
"Maybe," Tifa said slowly, "maybe we misunderstood…"
The room was only illuminated by a thin strip of light around the perimeter of the room and the eerie, otherworldly glow of the mako tanks. Sweet, consuming silence would have been preferred to the gentle hum of voices beyond the eastern wall. In the corner, huddled close, laid two silver-haired children, not possible older than seven or eight.
Aidan tried to concentrate on the gentle breathing of his sister instead, knowing that the voices in the next room were only planning what to do to them next.
Nadiya and Aidan were curled up against each other, trying to share body heat, as they were given no blanket. One of Nadiya's soft wings was draped around her brother, but it was too small to protect his entire body, especially as his form, clothed only with a thin hospital gown, was pressed against the cold, tile floor.
Nadiya, who was painfully thinner, quivered constantly. Aidan's tiny arms could not shield her from the draft.
Aidan tried to sleep; he knew that he would need his strength for whatever it was the Hojo was planning, but he couldn't. In the darkness, he prayed that he would be the chosen victim. The last experiment had driven Naylia into a coma, and she had only been allowed to return to him now.
He wouldn't let that happen again.
Nadiya stirred, opening her deep green eyes and peering at her brother. He wondered if she had been awoken by a nightmare, as she was painfully tense, and her in her eyes were still traces of very real fear.
It didn't matter that Nadiya couldn't speak; they understood each other all the same. Their plea was identical.
"We've got to get out of here…"
To be continued in Everglow