Chapter 40. December 26 – December 27,εуλ0007

They trudged through the jungle, murmurs wafting through the trees, thick foliage no barrier to the voices Aerith was hearing. She needed only the direction of her own heart to know where she was going, feeling the history and the memories of the Temple in full. The gathering of all the knowledge of the Ancients, and Aerith shivered in both fear and anticipation, wondering what awaited her there. Answers she hoped to find.

Even if she was the only one who could hear those voices. Dead voices, screaming voices, voices that had long been lost to dust and time, leaving invisible words flowing through the Lifestream. Silenced, filled with sadness and pain, and all of them were calling to her.

Aerith knew.

The Temple came into view before them, first above the treetops, then appearing in full as the trunks thinned and parted. The bridge crossing the moat to the entrance, the golden pyramid beyond – and she was overcome with emotion, unable to distinguish where her own mind ended and the heritage of the Cetra began. Entwined with the full brunt of their view, they both uneasy and happy to greet her here.

That was the true legacy of the Cetra, sharing all the knowledge of each other, of the Planet – their communications fine-threaded into an intricate web of memories, sensation – all trying to speak to her at once, reaching out to the only one to whom they could; the cacophony was driving out her senses, even as it urged her further inside.

She ran across the bridge eagerly, hearing the footsteps of the others behind her as she began to clamber up the steep stone steps to the top. "I'm coming!" she called to the empty air, yet she knew she had been heard.

The sun disappeared, shocking her, as she entered a dark stone chamber; it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the lesser lighting of the stone torches inside. As her vision sharpened, she noticed a figure slumped at the side of the dais before her; almost immediately, she recognized him. Tseng.

Crying out, she ran to him. Tseng groaned as Aerith dropped to her knees beside him, her hands already rummaging all over him, checking him over, searching inside as well with her Cetra talents.

His wounds weren't deadly… but neither were they too far from. She reached to the core of her own self, her inherent ability to heal, gained from those endless memories of her ancient soul.

Tseng shook his head slightly, raising it to look just a touch closer at her, bringing one hand to brush her cheek with his fingertips, lightly, near-tender.

"Aerith," he coughed out. "I should have never let you go. We'd both be so much better off right now."

Aerith frowned, brow creasing, wondering if he was even aware of what he was saying. Hadn't he assured her he would pursue her no further? Or… was he thinking… farther back?

Expressing long-ago regrets. He must really think he is going to die, she thought, remembering his proposal when she was barely more than a child – now, given the years gone by since, could he have really wanted that kind of love, with her? So easy to misjudge love, not notice someone might care for you. So many things might have been different, if she had realized all this along the way.

But she had never fully comprehended, had she? And if so… what did he think of Zack? An answer clicked into place. The ways in which he had helped her, even assisted she and Zack some ways in their slow early romance– the delicate balancing act he must have struggled to maintain.

She felt grateful, even if she couldn't return his affections. But right now... there was nothing to be done about it. It was hardly her primary concern. "I won't let you go so easily," she told him, stubborn.

Behind her, she could hear Cait Sith radioing for a pickup; spy or not, she was glad he was there now. Help was on the way. Meanwhile, she'd do the best to make Tseng comfortable until Shinra could come retrieve him.

He seemed about to say something else, but she shushed him with one finger. "Stop it," she chided. But Tseng grabbed her wrist with all the force he had left in him. "Aerith… Sephiroth is not just looking for the Promised Land."

"I know," she replied. "Sephiroth could never have found it anyway." Neither he, nor Shinra, could have made his way through the voices of the Temple, learned where to go. So how had Sephiroth got inside, then? It must be something else that was pulling him. The Black Materia? She could FEEL the temple wanting to give her its answers to the mystery. "So why did you bother taking hostages? Why did you get yourself into this? There's no way Shinra could win either," she berated him. "You… promised."

"I kept my promise," Tseng protested. "It was… BARRET's daughter – " he emphasized meaningfully – "and YOUR mother that got caught up in this. If I die here, the secret will die with me." His eyes grew fervid with pain, urgent." I still have the letters."

They exchanged a glance. She knew; she hadn't been wanting to admit it. "It's okay," she told him sadly. "I know he's gone." Distantly, she couldn't help but note the irony, how becoming conscious of Tseng's feelings for her only reinforced her own loneliness that much more.

"There's more you should know," he continued, "but I can't tell you everything… here." His eyes flickered meaningfully towards Cloud before drooping near-closed, his strength fading. But Aerith understood.

The rest of the party had been patiently waiting, but now Cloud spoke up. "I'm concerned that Shinra is coming straight to where we are. Do we need another battle besides Sephiroth?"

"It's not like I'm just going to leave him here to die!" Aerith protested. "He was… a friend." As close as she could allow herself to have, anyway. Maybe one of the only people to truly know her.

Anyone who got too close to her suffered. Even her friends here – part of them she still had to keep at a distance, not telling all her secrets, not yet revealing all the possibilities of how things might play out.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Tifa looking from her to Cloud and back again, considering both points; Barret grumbled under his breath. Vincent murmured something she couldn't hear, but it seemed to calm the others.

Cloud leaned over her, she feeling the heat of his closeness. All the reasons she had to keep even Cloud at a distance Would he end up hurt because of her as well? She was pushing him forward on this journey with no idea of how it might end; what if one day she was no longer there to guide him?

Tseng pulled her close enough that Cloud, even just above her, couldn't hear. "You – YOU – need to go after Sephiroth. With Cloud along, you might have a chance."

She nodded carefully, wondering how much Tseng really knew about Cloud, what he might not be telling her; things she was on the edge of figuring out herself... He slipped something smooth-varnished into her hand; she didn't need to run her fingers over the grooved surface to know what it was. The stolen Keystone. Here, so close to its lock, it was as if it wanted to give her a vision inside the temple itself, to warn her what lay ahead.

Not that she had any choice but to go forward. She passed it up to Cloud.

"Go," Tseng urged. His eyes looked at her plaintively, and she wished she could read his hopes inside; but there was only enough time for her to nod assent, before his head rolled to the side and he slipped into unconsciousness.

"Aerith, are you okay?" asked Cloud. "You're crying."

She was. She hadn't even noticed the tears that were filling her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. She brushed a strand of hair away from Tseng's collar; Cloud reached out a hand to help her to her feet. His eyes, haunting in their similarity to Zack's, asked her a question; she nodded affirmative. It was time.

Cloud walked to the altar, inserting the key. As he watched, the grooves of the stone filled with a bluish light, permeating the room and surrounding the party. The world faded away in a wall of white, but as it disappeared, Cloud heard a familiar voice.

I'M WAITING, CLOUD.

Stairs. Ladders. A surreal painting of labyrinthine proportions, paths connected in ways that hurt her eyes to look at, and nowhere could she see the end. A whirlwind dizziness of pitted stone landscape, corners and angles everywhere but overriding the visual tableau was the tremendous sense of presence – not of any one soul but an entire pantheon, heavy in the air. Voices from the past, and for all she knew, the future, those that had been haunting her all this way. Teasing her with jumbled versions of the keys to the puzzle, answers she needed to know.

Craning her senses, she tried to tease a coherent thought out of the mysteries on the wind – and she saw, or rather felt, some of what she sought. The White Materia – there to counter the Black. In synergy or opposition, she wasn't sure. Go to the Forgotten City, she heard, and she felt a pull – a strange tug of home. That was where she needed to go. What then?

Her party surrounded her, leaving it to her to lead as they had since first entry; they knew without being told that this was her territory. Expressions ran the gamut from comfort to severe unease to poorly-feigned indifference.

She hadn't noticed Tifa was close at her side – she'd been most conscious of Cloud, but he stood apart, gazing in the distance – she wondered what he was seeing, feeling. If the Temple chose to speak to him too or if his fractured mentality would take over – torn apart by the winds of knowledge wisping through the air, so many she could practically feel the settling into her own skin.

Nanaki sniffed the air, considering. "It certainly looks different, but it has some of the feel of Cosmo Canyon." Someone, she didn't register who, asked Nanaki to clarify; someone else answered the question. There were grumbles about being dizzy.

Tifa rubbed her arms, she shivering though there was neither wind nor cold here. If she had to say anything about the place – it struck her that there was primarily a feeling of dullness, stasis. But lurking behind it, something overwhelming, even sinister – something she wasn't meant to touch; this place belong end to Aerith, to the Cetra, whereas she had only the ordinary human senses. "I don't like it here. It feels… unwelcome."

Aerith placed her hand gently on Tifa's arm, able to read her unease – same as the train graveyard, the howl of ghosts, unfamiliar and disturbing. The other woman was barely containing her fear, even less idea of what they might be facing deeper inside than had Aerith herself. Whereas to Aerith the Temple was engaging, dynamic, to Tifa it was nothing but an amorphous and undefined foe. Faced by a fighter, used to seeing and viscerally experiencing her opponent; the abstract was not something Tifa was equipped to face.

She wished she could give Tifa some encouragement, but unfortunately the other woman was right – most of the party DIDN'T belong here, not truly. She could feel the will of the Ancients questioning the disruption in their energy, plopped here like a rock in the middle of a smooth-flowing stream.

The strangest reaction of all was Cloud's. Nothing. He merely stared off into space as if trying to hear the same voices as she; she wondered if the Ancients would let themselves be heard by him.

Tifa turned to say something to Barret; preoccupied, Aerith didn't notice the words. The others were gathering here and there in small groups, leaving her and Cloud in the forefront.

So many reactions from her friends, reflections so much of themselves but Aerith could have told them all were right. The temple was what you made of it. She understood now, the true awakening that had begun in Cosmo Canyon. There were places where the lines were blurred. Between life and death, reality and illusion. Cetra and non-Cetra. Some spots so thin that the Lifestream could even gush through, and one could cross.

"Cloud," she said; he started, lost in his thoughts, before turning to her. "Don't give up! It's going to be tough, but I know we can do it!" He didn't look like he needed the encouragement; but she knew, he did. She and he were a partnership here, their joint task to get everyone through the temple and safely back out.

She needed him to be there with her.

She brushed her fingertips on his right shoulder, ghosting over bare skin, trying to ignore the electric charge she felt. "You okay?" she asked carefully. "The spirits… say Sephiroth is in the temple. Are you afraid of that, or something else?" She probed, searching trying to find out what lay deep within – but he was as blocked to her as he had been all along.

"Yeah." It was as if he wasn't surprised at all to hear Sephiroth was there. She wondered, as he nonchalantly brushed aside her concern, what truly he was seeing. "Come on, not like we can get out anyway." That was true, both literally and figuratively. They were committed to a path, through the temple and beyond, dependent on the will of the ancients to guide them. "Lead the way – you know better than I," Cloud told her. Aerith nodded, wondering, in a pinch, couldn't Cloud maybe feel his way though too?

She needed to press further, further ahead. "Then let's go."

Cloud let Aerith guide them forward, filled with a sort of relief to have the burden removed for the time being - he still had so many doubts about himself. He thought back to the night before, with Tifa, and how, for the briefest moment, he had felt whole. More like himself, more ready to face Sephiroth; at a time when he needed to be looking forward, the luxury of the time spent with her was a necessity, for that reason, if nothing else.

Aerith showed him how it all fit together; Tifa reminded him who he really was. Tifa, the one who kept him centered through all of this – but suddenly, those memories (or more accurately, lack thereof) were bothering him all over again. What was wrong with him? It was the faintest trace of the feeling right before he got those blinding headache, right before shaking and seizing, and he wondered, why now.

As they made their way through the maze, Aerith tried to act the leader, tabulating the objectives like Cloud would, considering every aspect, every move. Sephiroth might be there for the Black Materia – but it was for the White more than anything else she had come. If Sephiroth was here, finding him, discovering what it was he wanted, was part of the puzzle as well.

Even finding out how he had made it through. The Ancients would not guide him, so what did? Could the materia itself be pulling Sephiroth to it? It was… something else… driving him forward. She shuddered to consider the possibilities. Jenova, she thought uncomfortably, remembering back to Nibelheim. Used to create Sephiroth… the first SOLDIER… yet she knew little more than that; but perhaps it was Sephiroth's own guide, as the Ancients were hers, a flip side in every respect.

She followed the spirit guides, the desiccated husks left here since time immemorial, speaking unintelligible nonsense that nonetheless carried truth. Finally, they entered the darkened interior of the Temple proper. A glowing pool ahead drew her, she recognizing it immediately for what it was – a treasure trove of wisdom, stored for untold eons until someone came to claim it. But the pool's surface was not calm, placid; it bubbled with disturbance, even displeasure if you could call it that, radiating from within.

She understood. Sephiroth was further inside; and the Temple did not like it. She leaned in closer while the others looked on curiously - the center of attention on her once again, she de facto leader until they reached the exit.

"It's like the Mako fountain," Tifa said, starting in awe. "But… purple, not green. It feels WRONG." Aerith knew she was right; there was a taint here, and she could feel it strongly. It made her profoundly uneasy.

But Cloud… Cloud was just staring at the pool. Disturbed. "Sephiroth was here," he told her. "You can feel it too, can't you?"

She could. But she didn't know if she was feeling it the same way as Cloud, the way she could intuitively understand the spirit bodies that had guided them through the maze – speaking to her in fears and feelings, speaking directly to her heart.

She pulled Cloud forward, urging him to look closer into the pool; he had to be willing to face the truth. "What's going on, Cloud?" she asked him. He was ever more agitated, but Aerith's voice was soothing. "Just look with me," she urged him; warm compassion in her emerald eyes, the glow mirroring his own.

Aerith knelt down, concentrating. Knowledge. Consciousness. Danger, the pool spoke to her, as the water resolved into Sephiroth's hateful visage –the vision then opening into a room full or murals. By the gasps around her she could tell that everyone could see the same as she; bewildered mutters rumbled through the assemblage.

She pulled Cloud down just a bit closer to the surface.

Tifa watched the two of them, Cloud and Aerith, completely entranced by the images in the water. Both were clearly mesmerized by the cryptic murals, and what they might represent.

"The Ancients," Aerith breathed.

"Sephiroth," muttered Cloud.

Scenes of destruction, but how exactly was incomprehensible to Tifa. "Do you understand any of it?" she asked, turning to Nanaki.

"I do not know," he replied, composed but considering.

"An illusion," Vincent declared "that clearly we were meant to see."

Before Aerith's eyes, the scene with Tseng played out; the White Materia responded as Sephiroth spouted out his plan. Sephiroth… becoming one with the Planet? Aerith could only surmise how he thought he might be able to do that. Did he think he could take over the Lifestream itself, somehow? Was that what he wanted the Black Materia for? And how could the White Materia stop him?

"We have to stop him," Cloud said, echoing her last thought. "I'm taking him down. It's going to end here."

Cloud wished he could feel as confident as he sounded. The party rushed all over each other with words of encouragement, support – all except Vincent, who stood there, silent. She wondered what Vincent was thinking. He wasn't one to give false hope; if he wasn't talking, could he have his doubts?

The room full of murals. That must be what lay ahead – but what awaited them there? Cloud didn't know, had no idea other than Sephiroth being at the end of it somewhere, and that was what was driving him forward. The anger had abated for a while but now it had returned in force. The lack of knowledge was what bothered him more than anything eerie tingles prickling his skin as he eavesdropped on Sephiroth announcing his plan as if he expected no one to come stop him.

It's time, something seemed to call to him, echoing through wide, empty chambers to the invisible depths of the pit below.

But for what?

Nothing to do but go forward – even though part of him, like a cowardly little boy, just wanted to go home. But he had no home. If he ever truly had one since Nibelheim… That belonged to a boyhood self he could not hope to recover. The Lifestream, maybe, but he wasn't ready to go there yet; Tifa was all the home he had, and she was here, and it was his promise to protect her. And in the end, it was for that, not revenge, that was the reason he needed to take down Sephiroth.

He felt Tifa near, her presence unnerving, as he remembered the night before. How close they had gotten. Wishing they could have gotten closer.

Aerith was poised and ready. The White Materia, the Temple, all seemed to communicate this was the goal; the materia seemed excited, even eager. It had been near-alive since they had entered. The temple whispered to her, Sephiroth seeks it, and Aerith looked nervously at Cloud.

"Where is that room?" Cloud asked, turning to her. He was coming slowly out of the trance, worried and perturbed.

It made Aerith even more anxious than she had made herself on her own. Oh Cloud, there is so much I would like to teach you but the time snuck up on us. You'd better be ready. "We're almost there," she soothed, reassuring, hoping optimism she didn't entirely feel would somehow project. They were close, the metaphorical journey now coming to fruition. "Someday, we'll look back on these hard times and laugh," she half-joked, not feeling the cheerfulness. How could she, when the confrontation still lay ahead?

Cloud, her last hope. Without him, she'd be left exposed, afraid to do what only she – a Cetra - could, to be that last chance.

"Things are just weird as fuck," Cid grumbled.

The murals were exactly as the vision had showed them, but thankfully (or perhaps not) there was no Sephiroth to be seen. They stared at the decorated walls in awe, etched remnants of a lost civilization.

And now Aerith was the only one.

She traversed the length of the room slowly, letting the pictures of legends sink in. Reaching toward the murmurs that had been accompanying her since she entered the maze of the temple. He said he'd become one with the Planet. Through death a new spirit energy is born. But how? The answer… must be here, written in pictures before them.

The white materia hummed in her ears, and she slowly started to understand, horror gripping her. The Black Materia. The ultimate destructive magic, summoning Meteor – a spell capable of destroying the earth. Her heart pounded, and she wondered why the ancients would create such a thing, realizing she might never know.

But the White Materia – now, that was starting to all make sense. It was there to counter the Black, complementary, contradictory all in one. To restore balance through means not yet understood. To fight back against whatever the Planet deemed a threat; working together they formed a dual system of protection for the Planet, one of its highest levels of defense. A liminal transition – in destruction rebirth is found. Could they have been anticipating the calamity of Jenova even back then? Was this their means of fighting back?

How far back did the history of this temple go?

For that, she had no answer.

She found herself tugged to the altar at the end of the room – quite possibly the same altar the Ancients had used when the Temple was built. But suddenly, she stopped, realizing Cloud was not following the group.

He'd paused at the fifth mural, the one depicting the summoning of Meteor; his eyes glowed an unearthly green, sinister, seeming to be staring at something only he could see. But as she stepped carefully towards him, frightened and concerned, he started to shake violently; Red and Barret were already there, ready to catch him if he had another seizure. He started laughing in a voice not his own – and Aerith saw an image of Sephiroth resolved into view. Cloud did not so much as raise his sword, held in thrall, as the specter of Sephiroth drove the ghost of his Masamune into the temple's floor, and Aerith heard his voice as clear as if he were speaking inside her own hear.

CLOUD, I AM ALWAYS BY YOUR SIDE.

Sephiroth turned to the mural; Cloud gazed on in rapture. Sephiroth reached out one insubstantial arm to Cloud, who flinched as if the touch had actually made physical contact. His voice droned on, a hypnotic murmur as he detailed his plans for the Black Materia – an injury that threatened the very life of the Planet - and suddenly it all began to click together for Aerith. What Sephiroth planned to do… and what she could do to stop it.

But she still didn't understand what that had to do with Cloud.

Cloud could vaguely hear Aerith calling to him, behind that even the voices of the others – but it was faint, indistinct, as if speaking though water. The insistent buzzing was growing louder, even as he tried desperately to shelve it in the back corners of his mind. Since they had viewed the pool, it was gripping him that much harder – clinging to the part of him that he knew to be true. That part was screaming at him… but he found himself unable to respond.

His mind reached out desperately for some way to center himself – Tifa, he thought, flailing – but she seemed… far away. Overshadowed completely by the presence dominating his mind. A laugh echoed. "You can't escape me. Come to me…"

"Where are you, Sephiroth?" he found himself shouting at the walls. He heard the voices of the Ancients calling to him, spilling all over each other in a panicked waterfall – too much to take, and he felt himself shutting down further.

Tifa was frozen to the spot, terrified by Cloud's reaction unfolding. The carefully maintained façade he showed to the word was coming apart in front of her, she wondering if it would break into pieces – for the first time, she wished he'd go into one of those terrifying seizures, anything to stop what was happening in front of her. He seemed to shimmer apart, like a trick of the light – a shadow self appearing, overlaid with the other, just slightly out off phase.

"Black Materia… Call Meteor…" Cloud cackled, the laughter that echoed off the carvings of the chamber unearthly, not his own. "Mother… it's almost time… REUNION…"

Suddenly, he turned to face Tifa, and in an instant, his voice returned to normal. "Cloud… I'm Cloud…" he gasped.

"You are," Tifa told him, with far more conviction than she felt.

…and just like that, reality snapped back to Cloud; everything was fine. He shook his head, looking at the group and their myriad reactions from worry to thoughtfulness to confusion. "What happened?" he asked, scratching his head nervously.

No one spoke at first; Aerith was the one to break the silence. "Sephiroth got away," she told him carefully.

"Then is something wrong?" Cloud asked blankly.

"It's nothing," Aerith protested, unconvincingly. She looked automatically to Tifa for support, the two united by a shared worry for Cloud that no one else could fully understand. Tifa still looked perplexed, but nodded slowly.

Tifa couldn't afford to seed more doubt in Cloud's mind. So many fears still unconfronted, and even as she had been patiently watching and waiting for the problem to go away, still no closer to the end. As hard as the seizures were for her to see, this was much worse. She was already frightened by the temple with no exits, having Cloud out of commission terrified her. She was trusting Aerith and Cloud together to get them out; Above and beyond her personal feelings, they couldn't afford to lose Cloud now.

Nanaki swiveled his one good eye, not needing sight to take it all in. "Strange. Spirit energy gathered in one place… an injury to the Planet." He shook his furry head. "I do not understand what Sephiroth speaks of. Why would the Ancients create something like that only to hide it?"

The group was silent for a moment. "What in the Hades-damned seven hells ARE you talking about?" Cid spat out, shrugging.

"The vision of Sephiroth," Nanaki replied. "Did you not see it as well?"

Aerith stepped in. "I think… perhaps not all of us saw the same thing here," she suggested. It would certainly explain Tifa's confusion. "It wasn't something that the Ancients wanted us to see, like at the pool. This was from Sephiroth directly. That must be why." She scanned the party. Barret and Yuffie looked as puzzled as Cid. Vincent showed no expression, but a flicker of his eyes gave the answer she'd suspected; he'd been one of the ones who had seen. What he thought of it – that was another mystery attached to the man.

Cloud felt everyone's eyes upon him; at least, he was reassured that he had not been the only one to see Sephiroth's illusion. He glanced nervously at his companions. "I remember. I remember my way…" he offered, encouraging. Tifa took a half-step forward towards Cloud, but didn't touch him, not yet. Despite their apparent concern, he feels ashamed of his weakness, trying to save face – that voice, that VOICE calling him, and he felt like it was obvious for all to see.

AERITH, Aerith at least would understand. That rush of euphoria he'd felt when they'd connected at the pool; now, she looked as frightened as the others. "Let's just keep going, okay?" she answered his unspoken question; guilt was written across her face. Why?

He knew. He was failing her – her and Tifa both. What were they not telling him?

Aerith couldn't tell him the truth. Couldn't admit to him that she couldn't depend on him. That much was becoming clear – it was all on her. Even as she'd accepted being alone, the price of freedom, her duty to the planet - there was still more being asked of her.

In a way, Aerith was glad the confrontation wouldn't be here – as much as she wanted to just get it over with. But where, then, might it be? Perhaps the Black and White Materia needed to be brought together…

She rushed to the altar. There it was, the Black Materia, hovering casually above the surface, looking like nothing more than a tiny, perfect replica of the temple. The White Materia screamed in frustration. She swiped a hand; it stopped short of the object, blocked by some invisible force.

"We can't just leave it here for Sephiroth," Cloud insisted.

"How are we supposed to get it out?" worried Tifa.

"I'll ask the Ancients." Aerith sunk back into her head and reached out… and there, waiting for her, was the answer.

She opened her eyes. "You're not going to like this…"

They burst out into the sunlight, running down the stairs in a jumble, just as the roars began behind them – crashing so close behind them, that it was as if the Temple was just waiting for them to clear the gates before it gave up on holding itself together.

Aerith wondered if that was indeed a viable possibility.

Turning to face the spectacle, safely out of the way, they watched the rocks crash inward to some central point; at the same time that it crumbled, it seemed to be shrinking, not just shattering but disappearing to leave nothing where the ancient stone structure once stood.

They waited a long moment to ensure the quaking had ceased, finally assured that the only sounds left were the animals and the monsters of the jungle. Tentatively, Cloud stepped forward, crossing back across the bridge and under the archway guarding the entry, stunned by what he saw.

The immense stone structure was gone, leaving a nothing but a yawning pit... almost. Cloud's sharp eyes picked up an object nearly hidden at the bottom - a tiny replica of the Temple in glossy obsidian.

Just as the Ancients said, the Temple itself is the Black Materia. Aerith wondered how long the Temple had stood there in the jungle, waiting; perhaps since even before there was a jungle to surround it. Everyone was disquieted, but Tifa was shaking like a leaf.

"Did it remind you of the plate drop?" Barret asked gently, placing his arm gently around her and pulling her to him, just as he'd done then. She nodded into his chest; Barret said nothing, but his calm, stoic presence seemed to be enough.

Cloud hopped in the pit without hesitation, pulled by the goal so close. Keep the Black Materia away from Sephiroth. He thirsted for a battle with his foe – but that could wait. Behind him, he heard Aerith proceeding more cautiously, clambering down the rocky walls, skirts seeming to be no impediment.

She was speaking; he vaguely heard words behind him. "- can't use it," she was saying. "…needs to be a place of great spiritual energy…"

His head was buzzing; the siren song of the Black Materia was pulling him close, fixated.

BLACK MATERIA. METEOR. REUNION.

"…would leave to take it to the Promised Land…" She could see Cloud wasn't listening.

YOU CAN'T ESCAPE.

And to Aerith's horror Sephiroth resolved into view, no mere image this time, but somehow fully in the flesh.

"Yes, the Promised Land, Aerith. That is the only place it can be used," Sephiroth addressed her. "I will take it to the Northern Crater. The wound of the planet." Aerith heard all too well the Planet's response, screaming in fear; it chilled her to the bone.

Black Materia. White Materia. Sephiroth had it wrong; you couldn't have one without the other, and she'd die before she'd give him the White. She opened her mouth, but before she could respond, a different voice altogether spoke into her mind -

The time is now.

The Ancients had spoken.

The buzzing was louder than ever, and as much as it was hurting him, Cloud found himself incapable of resisting.

Cloud was completely in thrall, visible in his eyes; inside, Aerith screamed as loud as the Planet. He was still too weak against Sephiroth, all her hopes gone to naught – it's too soon, it's not time – and as Aerith realized what he was about to do, she panicked.

But really… was it a surprise? Hadn't she already known?

She knew when they'd found the Black Materia. When the Temple collapsed. She'd known when Cloud picked it up –

And when he started to shake, she knew it was too late.

Aerith was shrieking at him, but Cloud could no longer make out words. He felt himself slowing, falling, crumpling to his knees before Sephiroth. It was as if part of him was being separated; he flashed to an image of himself calling something out, but Cloud was helpless to resist.

It was that part of him, his childhood core deep inside, the boy inside fighting to get out, the part of him that was truly him, truly real. But even as that part tried to hold back, his body was propelled inexorably forward, leaving him as nothing but an observer of his own hijacked will.

"Good boy," Aerith heard Sephiroth say, the tone mocking.

And Cloud reached out a hand – Barret, Vincent, shoot it, do something! she silently begged - Cloud's arm stretched out to deposit the Black Materia in Sephiroth's waiting hand. Grasping the treasure, Sephiroth paused to raise it above his head in one hand, waving the Masamune with the other – and with that gesture of victory, he flew into the air, disappearing.

Cloud SCREAMED then, the noise the NOISE - Don't be afraid, he heard the words in his own youthful voice – and someone was reaching for him. A woman...

"Cloud, are you alright?" Aerith's voice. Distant like petals on the wind.

His vision swam. "Aerith…" He reached for her. "Did I…"

"It's not your fault," she hastily assured him. She ran her eyes over him, trying to probe inside; she was looking into his eyes when she felt a jolt from his soul, and his eyes glowed green and cat-slit.

Just like…

Sephiroth.

Those cruel eyes that weren't his burned. She had no time to escape as Sephiroth took Cloud over, throwing Aerith to the rough stone ground. She wailed and covered her face with her hands, curling into a ball as Cloud's fists rained blows on her, and she could feel the bruises forming.

But this was nothing. He could bludgeon her into a pulp in an instant with his strength, she thought dispassionately. He was holding back. He was still fighting.

She was screaming inside and out, trying to break through to Cloud, effort futile.

Cloud screamed in tandem, even as his voice echoed Aerith and he knew what Sephiroth was forcing him to do, he was powerless to stop it.

And suddenly Tifa was there. Tifa, always there to help… pulling at him…

Tifa… he heard his own voice say. So glad to see you, came the next thought.

She frowned. "I'm sorry, Cloud," she told him, right before she punched him out.