Chapter Eighty-Four: Live for Her
Sephiroth had never flown so fast.
He was suffocating, even though the air flew past him in quantities great enough to sustain him. Aralyn's cold body seemed like a lead weight, not to his body, but to his heart. He had only felt pain like this once before, and he was weakened by the waves of grief. His years of hiding his emotions did him no good; his eyes were already blurring with tears.
But he wouldn't let this happen. He wouldn't lose her.
Not again.
He was flying, achieving speeds he never had before, but not satisfying the urgency he felt. The hand that was placed over Aralyn's heart searched constantly for a pulse…something, anything to prove that she was still alive, that she would make it.
He found nothing except stillness, and it killed him inside.
The sun was rising when he descended to the earth, and he didn't slacken his pace as his feet hit the ground. The rays did not warm him as he was soon enveloped in the shadow of the church. Not daring to take his hands off Aralyn lest her faded life slip through his fingers, he rammed his shoulder against the thick, arched wooden door. They parted, a harsh sound reverberating in the spacious chapel, shattering the peace.
He didn't slow in reverence of the sanctity of the building he had fled to, but ran forward until he was ankle deep in the yellow and white flowers.
Losing his pride, he threw himself to his knees, holding Aralyn near to his body. He was numb to the caress of the blossoms as they waved in the gentle breeze, like tiny hands brushing at his body as if to ebb away at his strength. They found nothing to take; it was already gone. He was bathed in the pale sunlight spilling from the broken rafters, but could feel none of its warmth.
"Aerith," Sephiroth called in an urgent, tortured voice. "Aerith…please…"
The stillness of the chapel pressed on him until he broke. He bent over, still clutching Aralyn. Dry sobs tore from his throat and his shoulders heaved. "Aerith!"
Sephiroth. It was a quiet, bell-like voice that answered his calls. The voice of the Cetra rang in his mind even though it had been merely a whisper. You came?
Sephiroth somehow managed to swallow his emotion enough to regain his voice. "Aralyn's never done anything…she's innocent! Please…you can't let this…I know you can…I'll do anything!"
The Cetra waited a long time before replying. I know you would, Sephiroth, but it doesn't work that way.
"No!" Sephiroth howled. "No! You must…you can't allow her to take my punishment! Take me! Give her my life…it's hers! I can't go on without her! Please, Aerith, I beg of you…"
A warm, gentle hand laid itself on his forearm, fingers tightening reassuringly. Sephiroth, there is nothing I can do…I am…truly, and infinitely sorry.
"You can!" he cried, refusing to accept the truth. "I've seen you! Cloud…you sent him back! How much more deserving is my Aralyn of her life? She would rather die herself than hurt anyone!"
You misunderstood me. Aerith continued. I have the ability, yes, but you must understand that I cannot do what it is you ask of me.
Sephiroth couldn't breathe.
I hold no grudge against you, Sephiroth. I am not doing this in revenge of what you did to me.
Sephiroth opened his mouth to reply but she spoke again.
What was Aralyn's final wish? She asked it, but he knew that she knew the answer.
"I can't," he choked. "I can't…I have nothing…I am nothing."
Were you not a god?
"That means nothing to me!" It was true. Jenova and all the glory and power she had promised him seemed less than worthless when compared to this woman that he held. The alien had claimed to be his mother, yes, and he had loved her as such for a time, but then she had betrayed him, and even now was laughing at the death of the innocent maiden in his arms.
He would never listen to Jenova again.
Then Aralyn has not died in vain. With her death, she has liberated you.
He looked down at the pale face of his cherished angel, her beauty undimmed by death.
This is not the end, Sephiroth. This is the beginning. Aerith clutched his arm all the tighter. There are souls who will die without you!
"Name them!" Sephiroth roared, suddenly turning on the Cetra. Aerith backed away, frightened by his fury. "Name one reason I have to live!"
Aerith paused.
Your children, she whispered.
Silence rang for more than a minute, but then Sephiroth's anger and pain exploded in the form of a harsh, accusing laugh. "You're lying, and you're mocking me. My children died shortly after birth!"
They live! Aerith insisted. They live and they need their father! He could feel her beginning to fade, and she spoke more urgently. If you loved Aralyn, respect her wish! Live for her, Sephiroth, if you have nothing else to live for.
Sephiroth continued to call, but Aerith would no longer answer.
He lasted only a few minutes longer before the agony became too much for him to bear. He crumpled, sobs wracking his form. In what little breath he could gasp, he pleaded with the woman in his arms to wake.
But she did not move even when his tears fell on her icy cheeks.
Sephiroth had never been so very alone.