Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Apotheosis ❯ Cold Comfort ( Chapter 7 )

She floated timelessly, deathlessly, thoughtlessly, wrapped in bitter cold. All ways were Her ways; all ways were one.

Defeat.

No, a setback; a time of rest, of contemplation, of gathering force. All times were Her times; all times were one.

Awake.

Physical location did not matter; the molten flow of power called to Her, crying out its new existence as it seeped through the planet's wounds.

Hunger.

Things had altered during Her senseless slumber; the crawling ones littered the skin of the earth… and there were no more guardians, save the five that slept.

Anticipation.

Slowly She unfurled her consciousness, re-examining the tendrils of her power and influence, the strands She had sunk deep into the Planet. And there were extrusions; extrusions She had not made. She battened upon them.

Resistance.

Rebuffed, She withdrew for a time, examining these new parts of Herself. They were not entirely of Her; they were mixtures of Herself and the crawling ones and other weak flesh. Most were deeply flawed, offensive to Her perfect symmetry; but there was one that resonated with the same silicate power as Her own. Imperfect; bound by the constraints of mortal flesh; but her crystalline core was deep within its makeup. Deep enough to serve Her purpose.

Acceptable.

Unknowingly it already served Her purpose; it had come to the place where She could make Herself heard most clearly. She drew on its memories and desires, learning its wants and fears, and weakened it, driving it towards the place of its creation. There, once it was vulnerable, She began to soothe and speak to it comfortingly, telling it what She required of it.

Disobedience!

Appalled, She let it run; never, ever in Her ageless span had an extrusion failed to instantly obey Her, as simply as flexing a muscle. But this one, this powerful mixture, cherished notions of free will, self-direction, and… some concept, some thought or emotion, that She was unable to internalize. It had defied her; worse, it had thwarted Her.

Unacceptable.

Perturbed, She flowed down Her other tendrils, seeking and probing. None were entirely useful, none as suitable as the one who resisted and fled… but there was one in a fortunate position, one who might be used to break the disobediant one and bind it to Her will… yes. The heady rush of anticipated success began to infuse Her as she whispered softly, seductively to the extrusion who would place that tool firmly in Her grasp.

Satisfied, She withdrew back into Her dreaming doze, watching distantly as the events She had set in motion played out. She herself would act when the proper moment was at hand.

All times were Her times.