Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Purgatory ❯ The Color of Infinity ( Chapter 10 )

The aim of life is self-development. To realize one's nature perfectly--that is what each of us is here for.

           &nbs p;            & nbsp;           --Oscar Wilde

"Sephiroth...." the voice called but he paid no heed.

"....Sephiroth...." the same voice sung softly, lilting and endlessly gentle.

It was met with a similar response, much to his companion's amusement. The silver haired man stared blankly into space, eyes gazing at some point in the distance. His mind pitched far away, submerged deep within his own consciousness. His companion chuckled lightly, having noticed the increase in such episodes.

She found it humorous that one person could have changed so radically and yet somehow remain the same. It was heartening to see that there were some things that would never change. Even after all that had happened to him, she could see the flickers of that little boy she knew so long ago. Somewhere buried deep inside was that dreaming child, a cherub disguised as human. He stared out at her sometimes, with eyes that still saw wonder in the world. His fey features unmarred by life's cruelty, before he learned how unfair the world really could be, before his innocence had been wrested from him.

It gave her hope for him and made her believe that her efforts might yield results. His innocence had taken quite a beating and if the mental torture he'd endured was visible, he'd be a mass of scar tissue. One look deep into his eyes told her that. He'd never been the hardiest of souls. What many people didn't see was that despite his physical strength, Sephiroth could quite easily be wounded. His mind was his weakness, being at its very best extremely fragile. Having been manhandled for the last twenty five years, there was little left in him now except for anger and the pain that caused it.

Underneath all that, in the very darkest of corners was a light that represented the last of his innocence. After being dormant for so long, it made occasional appearances and her heart leapt in joy whenever she spotted it. It was what kept the human part of him alive and his sanity hinged on its existence. That innocence had survived Jenova, his time in Shinra and his horrible childhood. There were more tests in store for it, her job now was to strengthen it so that it no longer flickered, but burnt brightly. She saw that each day it had become that much stronger, burning slightly brighter as the days passed and hope was given to him.

He'd learned so much in so little time. It was hard to believe how far he'd come. The belligerent facade had fallen almost immediately. In its place was this quiet, contemplative man, who'd often lose himself in thought. It was a complete turnaround and Ifalna couldn't be prouder of him. In human terms, it had been around six months since their first meeting. The strides he had made in that short time where enormous, even for him. Improvement came on a daily basis, even though she could see it was hard for him but that was to be expected. She couldn't imagine what he'd be like given more time. Ifalna smiled and snapped her fingers near his ear.

"What?" Sephiroth asked breathlessly, shaking his head, startled by the sound.

"You were daydreaming..."

"Oh..."

Daydreaming, again. It disturbed him. More feelings returned to him. Some were emotions he'd had little experience with and he'd had trouble dealing with them. He felt more human and with this feeling came the equally disturbing disorganization of thought. Manifesting itself in these daydreams. His mind wandered freely and he was unaccustomed to it. Gone was the single minded focus he'd depended on. There was no longer another consciousness guiding his thought. His mind was his own and while it was a good thing for the most part, there were times when he resented it. Especially on the days when he struggled with his emotions and memories stalked forward, exposing new wounds to the air.

His mother had helped him deal with it as best she could. Explaining with scientific clarity how life as a human being worked. She answered his questions simply, and shared with him ways to deal with the pain. The thing that helped the most was her silent support of him. She never said anything but he felt cared for all the same. It was enough to keep him moving forward.

Ifalna rarely came but when she did it was with specific purpose. She'd lead him back into that forest. Showing him scraps of memory whether he wanted her to or not, talking to him the entire time. Her explanations were more formless than his mother's and left him with more questions than answers.

He guessed, correctly, that this was her intent, and though it did annoy him, he understood the purpose behind it. She wanted him to question the choices he made, to show him different points of view. It was a common teaching technique which he'd used to effect when still sane and in command of Shinra's army. Though her approach was with less logic and more emotion, rather than asking how he could have done things different, she'd ask how he felt about it. Have him examine and explain his feelings. He'd followed so blindly his whole life, always looking at things from a detached third party perspective. Sometimes the way he talked about his own life seemed more like the accounts of an observer, like he wasn't there at all. She wanted to instill in him the desire to follow his own path. Allow him to live his life as himself and not a stranger looking in on a world he couldn't participate in.

Even now, his decision to undertake redemption had been forced on him. She had started to nudge him into the notion of wanting it for himself. Not because she threatened him with hellfire. Or because he felt he owed it to anyone but because he genuinely wanted to be forgiven. This was the key to his recovery. If he had no real wish to be redeemed, he'd begin to resent his task.

So, they talked over the events of his life. At first, he was reluctant but when he saw Ifalna wasn't there to judge, he opened up. She was an excellent listener, letting him explain without interruption exactly why he did what he did, occasionally helping him articulate his feelings when words failed him. These talks helped him understand himself more. It quieted the rage that had consumed him, taking its energy and redirecting it into healing wounds. He felt more at peace than he could remember. The restlessness in his character disappeared almost entirely, as he finally had answers that satisfied him.

The day came when he was ready to know how and why he was here. To find out the reason he'd been given a second chance. Ifalna began to explain slowly, still unsure if he was listening. He'd heard every word. Memorized them.

Sephiroth had been granted a very rare gift. Heaven made allowances for souls who sinned in error. It was called Plenary Indulgence, and it was an old institution but hardly ever invoked. Either because those deserving it didn't know of its existence or if they did, they didn't know how to go about asking for it. Lucky for him, her daughter had known and had enacted the first step before passing.

To be redeemed in threes they come from hearts in different realms.

From these three prayers a sinner has one chance to be a saint.

If heathen sinner's  worth prove true, the fire burns earthly taint.

An arbiter from heaven comes, to speak for sinner's soul.

And this is how by heaven's will a sinner be redeemed.

Through purgatorial fire test kindness by way of suffering.

 Most people in his situation were very lucky to receive a single prayer, much less three from the correct planes of existence. She told him she was quite surprised to see the request, as were most in heaven. It had created quite the uproar. He'd received prayers  from his father and mother, representing the mortal and nether realms respectively. If that weren't enough, the prayer from her daughter, representing heaven, secured his redemption. Sending the powers that be reeling.

There were many in the council that were outraged. Demands came in that something be done to quash the request and it could have easily gone unanswered. He might have the necessary prayers but without a celestial arbiter to take responsibility for him, the plea for heavenly mercy would be denied. No one would stand up for him and take on the burden of the request. Many thought the best thing to was nothing and the powers that be within the cetra were content with this. As a servant still true to heaven, Ifalna would not stand by and let the council ignore her daughter's prayer. Ifalna volunteered, electing herself as his arbiter. 

That was how he came to be here, walking Adur'rta. It easily could have been why as well but there was another wrinkle in the already odd situation surrounding his redemption. He was to be included in the pool of guardians that were being prepared for her daughter's rebirth. It was extremely unlikely that he'd be chosen, but it was strange nonetheless. Still, for whatever reason, her daughter had obviously wanted this to happen; it was her choice after all. Patiently, she explained this all to Sephiroth, using the most precise language she could. A question was in his eyes. Why prepare him if he had no chance? Without waiting for him to voice it, she answered. He would be prepared whether or not he was chosen, just in case. Better to be prepared than to have to scramble together at the last minute. She knew logic always appealed to him and the uncertainty in his eyes disappeared.

Sephiroth was taken aback, though his face remained carefully neutral. After all he'd done to the girl and she'd do so much for him. It hurt more than anything he could imagine. He didn't understand it. This flower girl...Aeris...had sacrificed so much. She'd given her life for a people largely responsible for the destruction of her planet. Prostrated herself on an altar that she knew would become her grave. Willingly went to her death, knowing when it would happen and who'd hold the sword. And she forgave him. Before she died, she actually prayed for him. Gave him a second chance, knowing what he'd do to her. Was her compassion limitless? There was no question that she was an angel. She was more than that. No soul, human or cetra, was that forgiving. It was too much and he didn't understand, didn't understand it at all. It wasn't his place to, that much he figured out. He was content to be grateful to her and to take that chance given to him without thought.

For the next three years, under Ifalna and Lucrecia's careful tutelage, he learned what he'd have to do if he was chosen. He worked his ass off, even though there was a sense of futility in it. It didn't matter. He took the work he had to do seriously and was committed to seeing it through. There was no delusion of grandeur in his dedication. He knew there was no chance in hell that he'd actually be picked for this task, whatever it was. It was the gesture that counted. On his part and hers. The girl had trusted him enough to make a gift of his redemption, and to offer him a position he most certainly did not deserve. This was as close to complete forgiveness he'd get and it was enough for him.

The days, if they could be called that, moved at a snail's pace. The memories that came were less painful now, more of a constant, dull ache that weighted his heart. Being in Purgatory was no longer a battle with mind numbing agony. It had gotten so that he'd been able to take in his surroundings. He meditated much of the time, as there wasn't much to do or for that matter look at. Other than the endless, vacant desert horizon, filled with cracked earth and dust. When he wasn't meditating, he did katas to pass the time. Anything to keep himself busy.

He settled into a quiet routine, and after awhile, he gladly welcomed the long stretches of nothing that characterized Purgatory. It was by no means an interesting afterlife but it was peaceful. The first bit of real comfort he'd ever had, as insignificant as it was. Simplicity had always suited him best anyway. Sephiroth enjoyed the silence, and being alone in his mind was no longer strange and frightening. There were no clamoring voices inside or outside his head, telling him what to do. Just him and though his memories were painful, he'd learned to deal with them. Better to have memory and remember yourself, than to have nothing as he had before. He almost liked the person he was now. Preferring the daydreamer he'd become over what he was before. It felt more natural. For the first time ever, he was content. Strange that in a place meant to punish and imprison, he felt free and in a way, he was.

During this time, there was much discussion about his duty. His recovery was promising, and much progress had been made over the last three years. Ifalna talked often about her daughter. Because she was to be his charge, he had to know a little about her. The older cetra told him just what he needed to know, not letting him in on more personal matters, which was fine with him. She was his unlikely savior and he owed everything to her. In his mind, he'd painted a picture of a young woman that was angelically kind, a paragon of virtue. Having all the qualities he lacked, as perfect as he was flawed. Yet as perfect as she was, there was no way, not one chance in a million that she'd choose him for anything. The likelihood of him sprouting a giant pair of wings was higher than that.

Ifalna had told him that if he was chosen, he'd know. The girl was compelled by heavenly edict to choose her guardian in person. Meaning, Aeris would come to him, which was a terrifying prospect, however unlikely. Secretly, sometimes he wondered what would happen if she did and it was strange that such thoughts brought a small smile to his face. He tried not to think things like that. Building up false hope was pointless and unproductive. It led to backsliding and he couldn't afford to make such mistakes. His wildest dreams meant nothing, the girl wouldn't pick him and he'd never see her...until she showed up outside his prison. He was floored and could barely believe his own eyes. For a moment, he thought it was some kind of delusion but it soon became clear that she was very real.

When he closed his eyes, he could remember that moment with crystalline clarity. The string of simultaneous emotion that ran through him, wonder, fear, joy, all in one go. He was too astonished at the time to notice how terrified she'd been. This was his first mistake. He should have known by her reaction something wasn't right. No one who was glad to see you backed away in panic like that. Instinct or not, the girl didn't have any love for him. Fool that he was, he didn't immediately refuse to accompany her. He should have told Ifalna to have the girl pick another guardian. She had told him he didn't have to undertake the quest if he didn't want to. It would mean the rest of eternity in Purgatory but that wasn't so bad. Besides, he wasn't ready for it. He wouldn't have been ready with all the preparation in the world. It would have been so easy...if only he'd said no.

Instead, he acquiesced. Despite the warning bells in his head, and the trepidation in his heart. Lucrecia had always told him to follow his heart and he ignored her advice or perhaps he followed it too closely. Once there, in the thick of things, he found out the girl was no paragon. Nor was she as kind and compassionate as he'd imagined. That image he held onto and the hope built upon it was shattered into a thousand skittering pieces. What was left behind was anguish and despair that he'd left a place that brought him comfort for this cold city where he wasn't wanted. Did she save him just to scar him, was that the point of all this? If so, it hurt her as well. It made not one damn bit of sense. Pure lunacy, that's what it was. It was confusing and upsetting, and there was no one there to help him make sense of it. The days and weeks flew and crawled and tortured him. Hope was a distant star during this time. Taunting him as it twinkled in the sky, just out of reach.

He hated it here and vicariously hated her for bringing him here. Agreeing to this farce was the biggest mistake he'd made so far. It was a sick, almost ironic lesson. That he finally got why Ifalna had pushed him so hard about the kinds of decisions he made. Again, he'd subverted his desires for another and again, he let himself be put in the position of being used.

He fell back into old habits, the ones he tried so hard to overcome. Reacting to her with the one emotion he had no trouble expressing. She didn't see his grief, even when presented to her as obviously as he could. The girl viewed him as a monster, a raging beast to be feared, even before that was all he showed her. His attitude only fueled the image now, soon to become a vicious cycle of anger and resentment.

He had truthfully given up. She'd never see anything but the madman. Sephiroth had tried not to let it bother him, but it did. He'd worked hard for three years not to be that man and he hated the way she looked at him. In her eyes he saw himself as she saw him. She saw the him of the past....the one he'd left behind but somehow could never escape and loathed the way it made him feel.

Perhaps it'd be better if he just didn't talk to her at all. If he'd just accept her hatred of him silently, maybe things would be easier. He disliked the idea of being used again, it was like betraying all his hard work. But in the end it was either that, or he'd slip further back into bad habits. Though he didn't regret the arguments they'd gotten into. It was unsettling, but he kind of liked fighting with her. At least it was interaction of some kind and it was strangely liberating. Lucrecia had said that sometimes it felt good to get things off your chest. He sort of understood what she meant, but fighting all the time wasn't doing much good.

The conclusion of all this thought was that they had to find a way out of this city. There was nothing to do here for either of them. The girl dealt with it by sinking further and further into an imaginary world, where everything was perfect because she wasn't here with him. He barely dealt with it at all. His only choice was to shut off his mind entirely in the blissful half sleep of meditation. This city kept them apart and allowed them to shirk their respective duties, causing them to lash out at each other. This didn't change his feelings for the girl, he still disliked her but something had to be done.

By refusing to help her, he wasn't sure what he was doing. Mostly, he wanted to see her come back and whine to him. If she was like everyone else, that's what they'd do. That's the way Shinra always worked. Certainly the way Jenova worked. When she didn't immediately come back to beg for help, he had to be honest...He was surprised. Over the weeks, this reaction dimmed. Until teasing her was all he had. He waited for her, in hopes of goading the girl into a fight. It was something to do, but it brought him no joy, just made him feel worse about himself, so he stopped. This was when his long spate of thinking began, and his eventual conclusion that leaving was the ideal solution to their problem. It was a decision that had taken a lot of time to get to, which was convenient, because time was all he had.

He knew she hated him and he didn't grudge her that. The thing he did have a problem with was how she used it to blind herself, jeopardizing her mission as a malicious stab at him. He was sure she thought that all this time she was proving something by being stubborn. That she'd gotten some petty revenge by one upping him. Showing him how tough she could be. When she thanked him, she had that shy look in her eyes. The one all girls got when they thought they won something from him. Maybe she thought he'd gotten it for her because he was so impressed by her effort. Idiot. She could think what she wanted. He'd retrieved the materia for the exact reason he said he did. It'd take more than a few dunks in an arctic pool to impress him, much less garner his respect.

 At one time, he'd admired her for all the sacrifices she made, until he met her and found her fallible. He'd decided after awhile that he didn't hate her, hate was too strong a word. No, he was disappointed at having to put her into that column with the rest of humanity. The one labeled just like everyone else.

He wanted to leave, because if he left he'd finally have a purpose. Something proactive he could do that'd make him feel like less of a bastard, moving forward, instead of taking a thousand steps back. All the explanation he needed was in the definition of what he was. A guardian. That was his job and if nothing else, he could cling to that. The girl was too pugnacious to see the harm she was doing. He'd played into her game and he'd had enough. Someone had to bite the bullet and it had become clear to him that she wouldn't be the one to do it, even if her precious planet were to die. He'd done only what he thought was necessary. Not for her gratitude. He didn't want a thank you or an apology...didn't want a god damned thing from her, having already received nothing in spades. He was here to do a job. Pure and simple.

No matter how many times he repeated these thoughts to himself it seemed to make no difference in the depression he felt. Holding onto duty, that's what he'd done before and look where it got him. Back then, he didn't understand how much he had to lose. He understood now more than ever and everything here just reminded him of what he left behind. The simple comforts he'd taken for granted. Each day was a struggle against himself and the desire to be back in a place where he felt a scrap of peace. Each day he wished to be any place but where he was.

It was sick but there were times, mostly at night, when he would dream of leaving...and going to seek out his own death. Such thoughts had always been common for him. In days long past he'd actively sought suicide. Then, death hadn't been real for him. It was alarming, but those thoughts that seemed familiar took on new strangeness. They were more like passing smoke, just another thought that he walked through without thinking or acting on it. He didn't really want to die again.

Having died twice now, he began to realize some things. This second time had opened his eyes a bit, it ground him in reality. It wasn't a means to an end. Wasn't the idle peace he'd sought. It was unpleasant and there was no peace to be had, only suffering. At least, for one like him. Life, with all its problems and annoyances and basic imperfections was far more interesting. In life, there was a promise for real peace, not just the dream he chased. The girl had given him that hope; he still credited her for that, even if she was unacceptably flawed. Besides, he wasn't so sure that he'd go back to Purgatory if he died a third time and he wasn't willing to chance that he would. Heaven seemed to be rather capricious in its decisions, all things considered.

Once he'd thought of her as an angel. Now all he could see was a girl, weak and pitiless as all humans were. Still, being with her beat being dead and maybe, if he looked hard enough, he'd suss out a point to all of this. Crazier things have happened. Looking down on her, the once palpable sense of bitter disappointment waned. This little bit of introspection seemed to do some good. Another one of Lucrecia's lessons. She had told him that looking inside one's self was one way to determine one's path as a human being. It was the principal factor in separating the great from the unworthy. If he were to learn from his mistakes, he would have to take a good look at his past.

He smiled quietly to himself, staring at the back of the girl's head as it disappeared into darkness. All of a sudden there was light, but he was unperturbed by it. Absorbed in thought, he just watched, enjoying the fact that he could do such simple things. Life would be worth living as long as he could find these simple things. He could ignore the girl, do his job as best he could and at the same time search for a bit of peace on earth. Thinking about that, he began to dream again. His imagination was set free and it played, carelessly bounding from thought to thought, like a stone skipping over the water. She usually wore her hair up. Noticing her auburn locks as the flitted to and fro in the wind. Where the wind came from was of no consequence. He liked it better down...

"...Hey!Hello? Are you awake!?"

He cocked his head, his eyes glancing up at the ceiling contemplatively. As if the voice had magically come from there.

"...Hello? Anyone in there? Sephiroth? Anyone?", a pause, "Anyone? Hellooooooooo?"

A voice from beyond...have I gone back home? The voice was a sweet lullaby; he could almost lose himself in it.

"HEY!" another very long pause, " HEY! WAKE UP! SNAP OUT OF IT!"

A loud clap near his ear startled him and had he been weaker, he'd have cried out. His instincts kicked in and he barely reacted to the sound, turning his gaze to the tiny woman in front of him. The girl stared back at him, large emerald eyes gone wider with cautious mirth. She'd caught him off guard again, damn her. Truthfully, he wasn't really that irritated. Didn't really care either way but damned if he'd let her know that.

"You okay?" She asked, tilting her head blithely to one side as she spoke.

"Yes." He replied simply, not going out of his way to be cold or menacing, though his voice did remain for the most part without color, as if he was stating an unalterable fact.

"You sure?....because you kind of spaced for a minute and..."

"I'm fine."

"Oooookay." She said, carefully elongating the word for emphasis. The vocal equivalent of holding your hands up and backing away, "Well...the door's open now, we can go in....just thought I'd let you know."

He shrugged his shoulders and looked away, fixing his gaze beyond the girl's head and into the corridor beyond. Aeris gave him an odd look, perturbed by the sudden change in demeanor again. This was apparently normal for him, which lead her to the obvious conclusion that Sephiroth was a rather strange man and completely unpredictable to boot. She shook her head and walked slowly through the door she'd just opened.

Sephiroth was still peering inside the darkened corridor. Searching for a sense of the space, and what might be beyond it before entering. The girl didn't seem to have the same sense of discretion and entered without thought. She wasn't cautious enough. They couldn't even see anything, she should have waited until they had a light of some kind. He couldn't depend on his own eyesight anymore. Though it still was better than normal, it was hardly what it had been. God knows what might be down there...waiting in the dark. He was about to say as much and just as she set foot in the corridor, it illuminated abruptly in an almost violent burst of light. The corridor seemed to come alive as long lines of pure energy swiftly crawled over the walls. Like distant, roving lights that traversed backwards, seeking out the deepest parts of the corridor and to wherever it led.

Both of them had frozen in awe, pausing to appreciate the beauty inherent in the ancient's technology. The girl seemed to be singularly entranced by it, staring at it with an openly joyful expression, so wrapped up in it, that she hadn't noticed that one foot hovered precariously in the air, still in mid-step. Sephiroth was more restrained in his admiration, preferring to silently examine and absorb as much as he could. The girl came out of her trance, setting her foot down as she moved forward slowly. Her eyes flit over the corridor, trying to find one place to rest themselves and failing.

Stepping closer to one wall which she seemed to scrutinize as she moved, she ran one hand over it and smiled when the light wavered slightly. Her fingers brushed over the stone again and dipped into a fault line of light. She giggled girlishly, the hiccup of sound so soft that he almost didn't catch it. He hadn't moved an inch, though his attention was drawn from the wall. The girl must have felt it because she turned to gaze at him, tipping her head in question when she saw the same faraway look on his face that she'd seen before. Why was he looking at her like that?

"What is it?"

Sephiroth looked away quickly, to cover up the fact that she'd caught him daydreaming again. His eyes fell on the open door and the materia embedded within it.

"Your materia..." he stated softly. It was as good an excuse as anything.

"What about it?" She questioned, taking a minute step towards him.

"You shouldn't leave it."

Her brows furrowed in puzzlement, "...We're the only ones here..."

"You might need it."

The girl made a little humming sound and pursed her lips, her hands resting on her hips. She sounded a little bit like one of Shinra's computers as they came up when you first turned them on. It was as if the sound helped her think somehow. She nodded her head in agreement and without a word she shuffled past him to retrieve it. The lights didn't go out, and that comforted him, meaning that once activated they didn't immediately go out. He let the girl struggle with removing the materia from the keyhole, taking the opportunity to get ahead of her to scout their path. This was apart of his job, after all.

From his quick observation, this corridor was quite old, most likely built a bit before the rest of the city. The oracle chamber seemed to be the most ancient structure here. The city's initial centerpiece before the underground parts were built. Mirroring the girl's actions, he touched the wall. His fingers passed over the surface, examining it closely. The wall's surface was perfectly smooth and though the light looked to be a groove in the stone, it was anything but that. It was a part of the stone, and the transition between the two was seamless, though the stone parts of the wall did contrast slightly in tactile sensation with the fluid rivulets of light that cut through it. The stone was cold, but the light trails were much colder and that was the only difference he could discern.

How had the ancients done this? The means by which this was accomplished were undoubtedly of mystical origin. Whatever method they used, it was plain to him that magic like this would take incredible power. Contemplatively, he stared at the wall, very much impressed by the ancient's seeming ingenuity. This place had to be quite important to put so much work and obvious care into a simple corridor. And whatever this corridor led to must be equally important. Very likely it was precious beyond measure...and such things rarely went unguarded.

He turned away from the wall and began the long walk downward. There was no sense in waiting, especially if he had some nasty guardian beast to contend with. The girl would be no help; the fact of the matter was she'd be a colossal hindrance. His situation was made worse for lack of a weapon. He detested hand-to-hand fighting but he had no choice.

His eyes were locked on the path in front of him as he focused on what he had to do. The corridor seemed to pass into infinity, long patches of level ground broken by the occasional set of stairs. Colors grazed over the walls lazily, bubbling up the sides like carbonated soda. Imperceptibly, the colors and the light illuminating them pulsated, which was at once comforting and yet a bit unnerving in its eeriness.

The girl was far behind him and getting farther each minute. She still struggled with the materia, apparently unable to wrench it from its hold in the wall. He paid no mind to the soft grunts in the growing distance. It was better this way. A place like this would be crawling with ancient things that shouldn't be disturbed. It was no place for a little flower girl who could barely pull a piece of materia from a wall slot. These things would tear her apart. Not that he'd let them...he was looking for a good fight, after having cleared the rest of the city of monsters. Hadn't had one in quite some time and there was something to be said about releasing frustration on random monsters. And he was sure it had been a long time since anything in here had anyone to prey on.

"Hey! Hey! HEY! WAIT UP!"

With a soft sigh, his shoulders went slack at the sound of her voice. Despite her protests, he didn't wait, not even slowing his pace for her. She called out again and he pretended not to hear. Didn't she get the hint? There was a dark urge in him to make it more obvious to her that she wasn't needed, but he held it back, remembering his promise to himself to not engage the girl in pointless argument. He could hear her fumbling steps behind him as she hurried to catch up, apparently having giving up on making pleas for her cause. A shrill gasp came from behind, along with the sound of skittering stone. Sephiroth finally slowed his pace a bit, concerned that she might trip and break her pretty neck if he didn't. If the girl was too foolhardy to attend to her own safety, so be it. He wasn't in charge of this mission anyway. It'd make any upcoming battles harder for him, but it was her decision. So he resigned himself to enduring her company. The footsteps behind him became less labored, though it tested his patience to hold back for her. Her pace being interminably slow...and there were a lot of stairs.

The entire way down they barely said a word, other than her initial under the breath grumbling about him not waiting. After that, not a word passed between them. It made the girl terribly nervous. She hated silence. He could tell by the sounds of her fidgeting behind him as she walked and the occasional soft sigh. Sephiroth, on the other hand, was relieved. If he had to endure another awkward conversation with the girl he'd unhinge his jaw and bite his own head off.

The corridor they followed lead deep, deep below the city. He wondered how far it went. They'd been walking a good forty minutes before that thought occurred to him. There didn't seem to be an end in sight. His feet kind of hurt, another new experience for him. Walking had never tired him this much before. Then again, he didn't really have to walk if he didn't want to back then. Teleportation was faster and more fun, a thought he'd only admit to himself. It was really the only part of his former strength he missed.

He'd scarcely thought about the girl behind him for the last ten minutes. She was used to being human. Was it harder or easier for her? On one hand, walking was something she as a half-breed couldn't always avoid. They had methods of transportation like cars and chocobos that made it somewhat easier. Yet in the end, they did eventually have to get out of the car or off the chocobo and walk. On the other hand, she wasn't the hardiest person he'd ever seen. Most humans were just as fragile, if not more so. She did seem to possess hidden strength that she could call on but very inconsistently. Maybe he'd just ask her. He glanced at her and the look on her face was all the answer he'd need. She looked liked he felt behind the placid facade. Very tired and just a bit peeved that the ancients saw fit to build such a damn long staircase.

When his foot left the last step he almost breathed a sigh of relief. Almost. Weakness was not to be shown in front of others, especially one who hated him so much. The girl had no such inhibitions and let out an extended exhalation. Wincing, she bent down and massaged her ankles consecutively. Being delicately boned, they often ached when pushed to their limits like this.

"If I never see another set of stairs again it'll be too soon.."

He grunted, not interested in her bluntly obvious and lame attempt to draw him into conversation.

"Why didn't you wait for me?"

She was getting to the point now. Perhaps realizing that beating around the bush got her nowhere with him. Of course, the up front tactic wouldn't work either. He blatantly ignored her question and turned his back on her.

"Hello? I asked you a questi....Oh, nevermind...." She mumbled to herself, realizing the futility in trying to converse with him.

He paid no heed, not even when she grumbled quietly under her breath. She liked to talk and he'd let her, even if it was just barely heard complaints and insults hurled in his direction. The room they were in was far more interesting anyway. It revealed itself as you descended the stairs, becoming more glorious with each step in. The room was circular in shape, having no real flat surfaces the walls seamlessly curved into the high ceiling.

There the rivulets of light converged and at the apex was a chandelier, which lit the room with opalescent brilliance. The chandelier was a large glowing orb of light, and around this main light were smaller motes of light that seem to fall from the larger orb. like seeds spilling from a recently opened pomegranate. And none of this seemed to be attached to anything or if it was, it was hidden extremely well. As it was, it floated in mid-air, held there by a force beyond comprehension.

He had to give it to the ancients, they knew how to impress. In his life, he'd seen many amazing things and because of this, he tended to look at things from a more jaded perspective. It was times like these, when he saw something that truly awed him, a bit of life that he lost returned briefly. The means by which that light had been made...it was mind boggling. He could toil his whole life to figure out how it worked and never find the answer. Even with all of the power he previously held, this simple light put all of that to shame. His eyes roamed and he allowed a small bit of wonder to creep into his features, softening them just slightly.

The grandeur of the ancients even extended to the floor beneath their feet. They stood on an excellent example of cetran tile work. He'd never seen its equal and he doubted he ever would again. Though it was faded with time, the colors dulling to pastel and some parts were cracked. Yet it was still a breathtaking work of art. The tiles used had to number in the thousands. Tens of thousands. There were so many tiny flecks of ceramic and stone, it'd take years to gauge their correct number. The design they shaped was eerily symmetrical and very intricate.

He gazed down at it, moving the tip of one foot over the spiraling shapes patterned on the floor. It was an abstract design, an oddity in ancient art. Usually, a more obviously representative design was chosen, to keep the meaning behind the work clear for the ignorant masses. This was clearly not made for just anyone to see. It had specific purpose and it was meant to be interpreted by a select few. The images used seemed to draw attention to the runes that trailed around the edge and the large symbol in the middle of the design.

He supposed the runes must have meant something to the ancients, he didn't pretend to know what. His knowledge of the language was scant, only knowing  the most basic details of how ancient cetran functioned. He knew a few words and phrases, learned from phonetic translations he found in Shinra's library long ago. There had also been some rather inadequate notation on grammar and an incomplete dictionary. It was enough to cull a tentative grasp of the language, giving you a sense of its inner workings. But it hardly taught you enough to be able to read, much less speak it.

From his cursory studies, he knew that they used ideograms rather than a set alphabet. Runes were included in this however; they were rarely used in the written language. More commonly, they were utilized to represent certain concepts for use in spellcraft. He'd studied a bit of cetran spellcraft but not enough to tell him what these runes might mean. This was likely a mandala, meant to be activated by the accurate recitation of a spell or mantra. The design pointed to a stone doorway, without a door. Where the entrance should be was a large, undecorated piece of rock. Both pieces seemed to come from the same period of time, which were undoubtedly much older than the corridor surrounding them. He could tell by the amount of wear and tear on the floor and the doorway, compared to the stairs they'd just walked. There was a marked difference in damage. Both were worn, but the floor and the doorway seemed to have suffered greater trauma. This corridor had been built to preserve these artifacts, which probably suffered the elements for quite some time before this was erected.

The girl had stopped talking by now and had begun to examine the room as he had been. She was just as awed as he was. More so, she seemed absolutely delighted, entranced by the power of this place. Her attention was focused on the floor, her lips moving soundlessly as she examined it. There was something rather eerie and unsettling about her and the way she was looking at the floor. He could feel... something... surrounding them. An aura, and it all centered around the girl. It had never occurred to him but she might know what the runes meant. She was half-cetra, and perhaps not as ignorant of her heritage as he thought. He wondered then, how could she have learned the language. She did speak it, her argument with her mother in the oracle was evidence of that. It didn't really matter; somehow she'd learned...this made her presence more useful than it had been before. She was now an asset and not a hindrance.

"Did you find something?"

"Hmmm....wha?" the girl asked, looking up at him with an odd amount of serenity. "Oh, yeah. I think so..."

Her voice was high and had an airy, dreamlike quality to it that thoroughly disturbed him. He'd expected her to berate him for leaving her, perhaps ask why he hadn't answered her questions. He was becoming more and more concerned by the moment. She was acting as if she were drunk or drugged. Something in this place might be working through her.

"What is it?"

"The decoration on the floor...." She said, vaguely. Gazing down at it again and seeming to lose herself in it.

"Yes...And?"

"....My people..." She paused, cocking her head as if listening to someone else, "They believed that in both life and death, the soul undergoes a journey. There were many paths one could take...but only one lead to enlightenment. These runes...this whole design represents that concept...the ideal traits one seeks to attain enlightenment and thereby ascend...The path is called...." She trailed off, squinting her eyes as if she was straining to hear.

The girl closed her eyes and concentrated, letting the power in this place course through her. Sephiroth could feel it as it happened...and again, he was disturbed. It reminded him of the blissful time he'd spent in the lifestream...with her...before. He'd tried to push those thoughts away and for the most part, he'd succeeded. His mind was torn from this divergent thought and put to task on the name of the path. He knew that name...Ifalna said....

"....Adur'rta..."

"Yes, how did you know?"

He wasn't sure what to say. This was the path Ifalna had spoken of to him on many occasions. It was the path she wished for him to take, but had never implicitly ordered him to follow. She said it was his decision, in the end, to travel Adur'rta. The rewards for following it were eternal peace, the realization of one's purpose and the final ascension of his soul. It would allow him to move from Purgatory and be reborn as all human souls were. But...she'd never told him what he had to do. The steps he had to enact to walk on this path. Her only answer had ever been, that he'd know when the time came. It was a vague and unsatisfactory answer. Not even Lucrecia could make sense of it for him. What little she knew was no different from what Ifalna had told him. This girl, he wondered if somehow she held the key to it all. Even so, he wouldn't tell her where he learnt it. The conditions of his redemption were none of her business anyway.

"It doesn't matter...What else does it say?"

Aeris considered for a brief moment pressing him for more information. One look at the pinched look on his face told her it'd be pointless. So she left it alone. She approached the doorway, looking it over just once. Eyes blinking languorously as she studied the surface. She lifted her right hand up and began to draw in the dust with one finger. Where she touched, bright golden light was left behind, blazing a trail worn by her fingertip. She lifted it off the surface to examine her work. Three lines formed together which looked like the letter 'Z', formed backwards and at a slight slant. He looked from the floor to the door...she'd drawn one of the runes found on the floor mosaic.

"Sic transit gloria mundi..." She paused for a beat "So passes the glory of the world."

Her words were spoken softly and he got the feeling that she wasn't talking to him...nor to herself. She spoke to the doorway itself and it answered her. The words of the ancients came forth, brought to life after thousands of years of waiting for one girl. The words traveled across the stone tableau in bright greens and blues. Blinking as their message repeated. Sephiroth could not begin to guess what they might mean, nor did he want to. There was something ancient and vaguely terrifying about the power he felt surrounding them. The fact that the girl seemed so unperturbed by it made it that much more alarming.

"What does it say?"

The girl didn't turn to look at him, her eyes were locked on the wall and the flashing message. She was and wasn't in her body...it was like...she was the same size as she had been coming in, yet she seemed much larger now. An aura of power surrounded her, and he could feel it with every fiber of his being. There was a certain amount of deference and respect he felt he had to give her. His awe of her momentarily returned as he waited for her answer. When she finally spoke, it was halting and breathless as she channeled her power, her hand never leaving the surface of the stone.

"It speaks of the watchtowers...and this rune..." She replied, nodding to the strange backwards 'Z' that still glowed golden, "The watchtowers are the physical manifestation of Adur'rta...to awaken them, is to walk the path of enlightenment...To..."

Her eyes glazed over and she shook her head, pressing her eyelids shut as if she was experiencing something quite painful. She gasped and lurched forward, her fingers splaying across the surface to prop herself up. Meanwhile, the words grew in number and began to move in orderly rows. They whirled across the surface, spinning like the myriad stars and suns that made up the universe, becoming a brilliant vortex of light that converged on her palm. She gasped again, this time it was higher pitched as if she were surprised...or hurt.

Her palm pressed flatly into the surface, her fingers now spread wide as the words entered her flesh. They merged with her, moving from the wall onto her skin. Drawing themselves across her flesh, twining around her fingers to her hand. Spiraling up her arm in concentric rings, moving as fast as they could up to her eyes, where they stopped briefly. Her eyes flew open and she let out a half scream as the lighted words entered her eyes. They turned from the sparkling green of life to a dull white...like the eyes of a blind man, except for the unearthly glow that emanated from them. Her eyes stayed like that until every last word left the stone and merged with her. As the very last word disappeared, she closed her eyes and when she opened them again, the knowledge that was given to her shown behind them. Thankfully, they'd returned to their normal color, but there was still a brilliant light that shone just underneath the surface of deep green.

She turned to look at him, still ensconced in a dream of sorts. Speaking from some foggy half-memory, "Long ago...One cetra was chosen above all others to undergo a journey...every ten years... pilgrimage of faith, to seek enlightenment for themselves...and for the peace of all souls on the planet. At the end, they were ready to face death itself and defeat it...at least, that's the story that was told...." she trailed off, losing focus for a moment before she returned to herself, "This rune is called the sun. It represents the fire of creation...the lifestream...and Adur'rta's first principle. The beginning....and the end..."

"What does that all mean?"

"It means...." She paused a moment before answering, "It means....this is where we begin."