Sailor Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Heartless Angel ❯ One-Winged Devil ( Chapter 1 )

0. Foreword

 

First and Foremost, Disclaimer: The author owns only characters and concepts not recognized as registered trademarks of Naoko Takeuchi, Square-Enix, or Konami.

 

Hello, and welcome to the Foreword of “Heartless Angel”.

 

In case the name fails to tip off those who have not fought a certain optional boss, this is a Sailor Moon/Kingdom Hearts cross, with a healthy smattering of Suikoden references and influence. However, don't be expecting to see Sora, Riku, or much of anybody else from the original game—least of all any characters with Disney connections. This cross takes a rather different direction from most SM/KH with which I have had experience; in fact, only one character from Kingdom Hearts is featured in this work of fiction, though I like to think he makes plenty of impression all on his own.

 

In addition, be warned that there are Original Characters used liberally in this work, at least three (so far) who possess significant relevance to the plot. I have done my best to maintain a level of reasonable, “natural” importance without allowing them to dominate the story, but constructive means of criticism to help me keep them in line are more than appreciated by any who read this and maintain enough interest. Be warned, in addition, that the fic also makes blatant use of OC-Senshi pairings. Again, I have attempted to maintain a level of good taste and reason in this; however, due to this, certain Senshi will see a little more proverbial “screen time” than others—though I by no means plan to cut any character out.

 

In addition to the original characters, let it be noted that this piece makes judicious use of “borrowed” properties left and right, for the most part simply in names. I am aware that certain phrases, quips and attack names are neither of my own creation, nor from Kingdom Hearts, Suikoden or Sailor Moon; consider the homage or laziness as you will, they are there regardless. There is no need to review simply to point out my unoriginality or to inform me that a phrase or property comes directly from a specific anime or game. I more than likely know, and if I do not know, I will more than likely not change it unless the site administration demands it. This is fanfiction, and technically I hold no claim to the piece whatsoever, after all; it is submit only for your perusal and, with luck, approval.

 

Another important matter that I should point out is that this piece makes certain significant changes to the history of the modern-day Senshi, which will be pointed out and elaborated upon as they become relevant to the plot—or a little later, perhaps, in the interest of suspense. If something seems odd or out of place, please bear this in mind; this work of fiction assumes that a significant chain of events took place between the “SuperS” and “Stars” seasons of the anime, though it uses elements from the manga as research has dictated are more interesting to me personally.

 

As a final element of note, I wish to point out that there will obviously be spoiler material for all properties contained therein. Thank you for your time, patience, and hopefully readership. I hope anyone reading this fic enjoys it as much as I've enjoyed hammering it out.

 

And now, without further ado, a more informative Summary:

 

The setting is 30-something'th-century “Crystal Tokyo”, long after the fiasco of the Black Moon family's less than triumphant return. The kingdom is at relative peace, weapons have been laid aside, and the Guardians of Crystal Tokyo are more or less content, though there are certain among them have made it their mission to see to it that the rest do not grow lax in their peacetime. The Princess Usagi, still known in certain fond circles as “Small Lady”, has assumed the title and powers of “Sailor Moon”, but in an era of little need for a legendary guardian, the position is largely ceremonial.

 

However, something is about to disrupt this perfect, Utopian society, a force from beyond the fabric of reality that exists only to consume all that is not of the darkness. It desires only one thing, to snuff out the very light of the Earth and all its neighboring worlds.

 

It begins with a rude awakening in the dead of night…

 

 

1. One-Winged Devil

 

Damn that alarm to the other side of the Black Moon… Alex groaned softly, under his breath. That had been his favorite dream, too. If this is another drill, court-martial or no, I'm gonna loosen a few of the Captain's teeth. I don't care if she is a woman.

 

It wasn't that his bed in the barracks was particularly comfortable, unbearable to leave. On the contrary, he'd slept on softer and more inviting rocks. But sleep was sleep, and since signing up for the service he'd learned to cherish every second of it he could snatch.

 

After all, the most perfect Utopia on Earth didn't maintain itself.

 

Alex hefted his sword-belt higher as he tromped through the corridors, their quartz-like surface glimmering ethereally from the light produced by the crystal ceiling. It never failed to boggle his mind how the crystalline surfaces of the castle defied any and all attempts to produce even the slightest scratch. He'd even managed to get his hands on a diamond once for an attempt, borrowed from a bunkmate who was saving it for a proposal on his next leave-time. Alex winced at the memory of his friend's tongue-lashing, when the stone's perfect edges had been rounded off without producing so much as a tiny mark on the crystal wall.

 

There had been very little left of his paycheck after replacing that.

 

He permitted a smirk to cross his face as the man in question filed in beside him, his friend's mind clearly far from the matter in question, given his somber expression. Alex forced himself to focus once again, his blue-flecked gray eyes returning to the front..

 

“Any idea what's up?” Alex stage-whispered from the corner of his mouth to his colleague, an eager private named Grey.

 

Grey snorted, shaking his head sharply to fling wisps of dark hair out of his namesake eyes. “You know they never tell us privates anything. C'mon, run faster. I wanna see what this is all about.”

 

They were joined by three more privates and an unexpected corporal, who immediately filed in to the lead as they wound the last bends to the exit that lead into the Palace's courtyard. The group lined up, rank and file amidst the other soldiers who had been roused by the subdued but inexorable alarm's oddly musical chime. Alex was frankly surprised to see the small number of crisp white uniforms, golden crescent-shaped badges marking their allegiance at the left shoulder. There was ample space in the courtyard for the entire CTDF to form up, and then some, and he knew that given who the division leaders were, there was no reason for the force itself to be overwhelmingly large at present. However, either the military was smaller than he had realized, or only a few squads had been buzzed out, for there weren't more than thirty soldiers present—most of them privates like Grey, a few specialists like Alex, and two more corporals.

 

So it's no state of emergency. Doesn't look like a late-night training session, either. Where's the Captain, though…? Ahh, there she is.

 

Early on, it may have been difficult for some soldiers (most of them now ranking officers) to take their commanding officer seriously when she was dressed in a seemingly absurd white fuku, complete with a skirt shorter than a quick sneeze and overlarge bows adorning the back of her waist and the center of her chest, to say nothing of the tiara that the masculine cut of her hair failed to completely conceal. Those men had learned quickly not to stare at her exposed legs, however, lest they be tasting her short blue high-heeled boot for a month.

 

Recalling his earlier train of thought, Alex bit down hard on the corners of his mouth to keep his face straight. She's practically a man anyway, no one would blame me for slugging her like one.

 

“Excellent time, soldiers,” the woman called Sailor Uranus announced, her voice deep and gruff as though striving to emulate masculinity. “You just saved your pensions for another two weeks. However, this is no mere drill.”

 

This time Alex had to force himself not to perk up. Trouble was never a good thing, but it was at least good to know that he had not been roused from that dream for nothing. Grey didn't bother to conceal his pleasure so much, his posture straightening as he stood even taller, capping Alex's height despite his lesser years.

 

Wisely, no one spoke. Their Captain waited a few moments longer, striding briefly along the front of the lined-up ranks before stopping to face them again. “An intruder has been detected in the confines of the Palace block of the city, his intentions confirmed as hostile.”

 

Hostile? Who would be stupid enough to…?

 

“As of this moment, the Sailor Soldiers of Fire, Thunder, and Sea are fanning out through the city in pursuit. We are going to tighten that web. You will be divided up into search units and directed to individual sectors, to follow all vectors and pursue the deviant before he escapes. Corporal Sakuishi will begin handing out your group division and sector assignments, now. Should you encounter the suspect you are to detain him as best you are able and wait for a Sailor Soldier to reach your location. Do not attempt to arrest this man on your own.”

 

As brisk as ever, once her words were finished, the Captain (a deceptive rank in name only, all told, since in truth she ranked even the highest officer in the Defense Force) turned and strode across the courtyard, to meet another “sailor”-suited young woman emerging from the Palace gates. Alex had no time to try and identify which one, before his orders were placed into his hand in the form of a small silvery ComPad. The device conformed ideally to the human hand, vaguely in the shape of a very rounded and artistic “T”, with grooves in both sides designed for fingers and thumb to easily grip.

 

Thumbing a switch produced a flat, holographic display hovering over the crossbars at the top, detailing his assigned unit (Grey and two other privates), a small map that depicted not only their destination but the most expedient route through the streets to reach it, and a brief textual description of the suspect. Tall but slim Caucasian male, long silver hair, black coat…shouldn't be too hard to spot. Why all this fuss over one man, though? What'd he do to get the CTDF on him?

 

Grey was discussing this very matter aloud with the other two privates (a young woman with hair cropped in a similar short style to the Captain's—perhaps in some vague attempt at emulation?—and a youth of middle-eastern complexion) as they approached their unit leader.

 

“So…” Alex began, glancing briefly to his readout again, “Grey, Stone and…” he frowned, hesitant to speak the name for fear of mispronunciation. “…Daoud?” The three nodded in turn, snapping to attention and lowering their own ComPads. “Alright. Have all of you checked our route and destination?” More nods from all sides. “Then let's get on it, I want us there yesterday!”

 

The groups began to break off, cluster by cluster, veering left and right to begin their individual routes. No doubt it was the Soldier of Ice who had planned the routes; they were too precise and methodical to have been done by anything but a computer. Whoever this poor fool was, he had apparently caught the Sailor Soldiers of Crystal Tokyo on a bad night; they were pulling out all the stops to bring him down.

 

Sure enough, Alex and his unit found their route unobstructed, and were able to follow it to their destination point without incident. It was a rather pleasant little market street, actually, the old-style cobblestone streets preserved in a fashion over a millennium old, with canopied bistros and a souvenir shop overflowing with imitation antiques.

 

The waiting, now that was the difficult part. Their instructions were to hold the position they had been assigned and only pursue if the suspect came within sight. He doubted it was likely that they had managed to outdistance the man, given the head start he had, but perhaps the Soldiers were planning to chase him toward one of the planted groups.

 

Regardless, Alex sighed, sweeping the fingers of one white-gloved hand through his sandy hair, still vaguely mussed from his rude awakening. He hated waiting. The minutes stretched on, into what felt like hours. The incessant tapping of Stone's foot as she leaned back against the black railing of a bistro became like the ticking of a clock, and Alex found himself unconsciously counting the seconds in his head. Upon realizing it, he forced himself to stop, only to find himself doing it again moments later. Grey paced, in wide, ovoid patterns, stopping at the end of one arc to turn on a heel as though marching in formation. Daoud was the only one not moving at all, his eyes unfocused as though in meditative repose…however, he had unbuckled his sword-belt, clasping the sheath vertically before him in one hand, the crossbars level with his eyes and his free hand slowly curling its fingers around the grip and uncurling them in rhythm. He wasn't the only one at ready—all of them kept their hands at the ready near their weapons.

 

It had been difficult enough for the Neo-Queen's Sailor Soldiers to convince her of the necessity of a military even in this new age of peace, but she had been adamant in her refusal to distribute firearms to them, favoring instead the use of blade and sorcery. Guns were not banned in Crystal Tokyo—the Queen had spoken most firmly upon this in her public address, stating in an eloquent manner Alex could not hope to emulate that even such a ban would smack of tyranny, and that was a thing in which she would have no part—but they were strongly frowned upon and discouraged.

 

It was Daoud's apparent meditations that saved Alex, Stone and Grey—though they did little for the unfortunate man himself. Though his eyes widened, almost imperceptibly as a breath huffed from his nostrils, Daoud's saber did not even clear more than half its sheath before he was cut down, a flash of shocking redness spurting from his side as a dark-and-light blur whizzed past him. Stone was closest to him, and her eyes were wide with horror as the blood stained her fair face and even whiter uniform. The fallen man collapsed, dead before he hit the street, his weapon falling from limp fingers.

 

Soldiers though they were, they had never seen death first-hand—not even Alex, for all his seniority. No amount of training can prepare one for seeing a man die so quickly, so ruthlessly and mercilessly murdered, for precious little apparent reason.

 

Regardless, the three surviving unit members whirled upon their assailant, who had come to a stop in the midst of them after his prey fell.

 

The man was tall, one of the tallest Alex had ever seen, given that even hunched over slightly with his weapon extended, his head matched Alex's own height. There could be no mistaking their assigned target; his long, platinum-silver hair gleamed in the light of the crescent sliver of moon above, spilling down along his back to the backs of his knees. The only person with longer hair that Alex had ever heard of was the Queen, and it was rumored her golden locks were long enough to weave a tapestry with. The man's black coat was apparently his only attire other than his unremarkable black pants and boots, revealing no shirt beneath its open front; the only things crossing his chest were two black straps, held in place by silvery studs, that held the coat close to his frame. Of note was the symbol that stood out boldly from the center of the crossed straps, in the shape of a red-rimmed black heart with two scarlet lines crisscrossing its bulk; at the bottom, where there would normally have been a single point, it instead fanned out in two backward-sweeping crescents, with a single point emerging beneath them. The coat itself was adorned oddly, the outer forearms accentuated by red-streaked blade-like fins, and the trailing ends terminated in many jagged ends like a row of red-trimmed, caricatured teeth circling the backs of his legs.

 

However, there were two things that had not been mentioned in any report, something that kept Alex and his two remaining privates frozen in their tracks. The first was the man's sword, which even now continued to drip with Daoud's blood; the sword itself was of old Japanese make, its single edge sweeping in a gentle curve, its wielder's black-gloved hand guarded only by an elegantly carven ovoid shape rather than crossbars. However, its length surpassed even the height of the man who bore it by at least half a foot, stretching out mind-bogglingly long, and yet the swordsman still clasped it with effortless ease.

 

The second thing was the sweeping, black-feathered wing that fanned out imperiously from his back. Not wings. Wing. There was only one, its dark bulk casting eerie shadows over his pale features as it hovered over him from behind his right shoulder.

 

Slowly, the swordsman straightened to his full height, swiping his blade through the air so that the blood flecked from its surface to stain the streets. His free hand lifted in a beckoning gesture, and his previously emotionless visage curled into something horrid; a cold, unfeeling smirk, at the same time mocking and insultingly indulgent. He opened his mouth, and his soft, mild voice uttered a single taunting word.

 

“Come.”

 

To Alex's great chagrin, before he could call out to stop her, Stone indulged him with hate in her eyes. Her sword, a weapon of the same make as the one-winged man's—if of more manageable length—flashed free of its sheath, glinting briefly in the light as she struck. Steel resounded off of steel, sparks scattered across the imitation cobblestones, as her blade was met by an impossibly fast movement of the attacker's, and with an elegantly dance-like spinning motion he circled around her and allowed her momentum to carry her past…and his single wing stretched to its fullest with a twitch, as he plunged his blade into her back and pulled it free in a single effortless motion. Stone didn't even realize she had been impaled until she stumbled to a halt, looking numbly at the redness blossoming at the front of her uniform…before she slowly sank to her knees, clutching at her chest.

 

Before she could even topple to the ground, both Alex and Grey were upon the man, standard long swords drawn and cutting through the air. Though the wicked blade lifted to block Grey's stroke, which had come first, Alex knew his blade would score on the preoccupied man.

 

…only the one-winged swordsman wasn't there when his shimmering steel came down, passing through a midnight-blue flash of light and a flurry of black feathers, before resounding sharply off the stones underfoot.

 

Alex had time to do no more than stumble backward from the recoil, before another forceful impact struck the air, close enough that he could feel it in his bones. His eyes went wide, as he knew somehow what had happened. “Grey, down!”

 

But it was too late. In a blur of motion, the swordsman emerged from the second cloud of drifting black feathers, darting past Alex's friend with a rush of air. For a moment, an agonizing moment, Alex permitted himself a sliver of hope that somehow this incredible warrior had missed, that his friend would be okay…

 

…then, the line of red slowly formed directly along the circumference of Grey's throat. His expression was still blank with shock as his head toppled cleanly from his shoulders, his body slumping limply to the ground immediately after.

 

Despite himself, Alex stumbled away, panic gripping at him as the blood pooled from what remained of his three fellow soldiers…his three comrades, if only from the training field. This…this was impossible. This…this was no man, no human. This was a monster! A monster with cold, glowing green eyes, his platinum-white hair somehow not stained with so much as a drop of the blood he had spilled.

 

Another disdainful swipe of his blade through the air flecked the blood from its length once again, so that it gleamed once more in the moonlight. Hardening his resolve, Alex clasped the grip of his sword in both hands, his feet slowly drawing apart and his shoulders tensing. This…demon, this monster, had killed them like it was nothing. He couldn't just be allowed to get away with that, whatever else his crimes may have been. “Detaining” him was out of the question—for that matter, so was arresting him.

 

Slowly, the man turned again, the sickeningly indulgent expression once more on his face as his fingers beckoned.

 

“Oh, you've got it,” he snarled despite himself, trying very hard not to look at the three dead bodies that had only seconds ago been full of life, full of personality. There would be time to be sick, to grieve, to think later. “Here I come, you freak!” Briefly, his step faltered as the words echoed oddly in his brain, but he shrugged it off before it could distract him.

 

He released the blade with one hand as he charged, allowing the point to dip and draw up sparks from the street underfoot as it scraped the stones. However, this was no wild charge like Stone's…there was a reason they had been privates and he was a specialist.

 

Perhaps unaware of the distinction, or simply unconcerned, the dark-clad swordsman seemed faintly disgusted by the direct tactic, already drawing his sword back for a backhanded swipe to take Alex's head clean off…

 

…just like Grey's…

 

But Alex dove, rolling beneath the swing at the last minute, coming to his feet right in his opponent's face with a rising swing of his fist. The hand that caught his attempted haymaker seemed possessed of impossible strength, black leather creaking over the man's gloves as he squeezed oppressively tight on Alex's captive fist.

 

Refusing to give the man the satisfaction of hearing him cry out, refusing even to drop his sword, Alex bit back the sounds his throat was desperate to voice, bringing up his sword instead to try and drive into the man's middle. The swordsman wasn't there to meet the blade, having shoved away from the fist and darted back nimbly as a flea. His expression turned mildly irritated, his blade sweeping out to one side as his free hand lifted, palm turned up. Crimson sparks blossomed to life above his hand, swirling around his half-clutched fingers. “Out of my way,” he intoned in a faintly echoing voice that brooked no argument. Alex realized, remotely, that it was starting to get very, very hot.

 

He fell, more than leaped backward as the cobblestones below his feet exploded in a roaring pillar of flame, one of three that surrounded the black-winged swordsman at triangular points directly and front and slightly behind to either side. Landing on his rump, Alex surged to his feet, just in time to see the flames beginning to thin out…

 

—and the swordsman leaped directly through what remained of them, his blade flashing again. It was instinct that saved Alex this time, his arm raising before his face in a base reflex as he staggered back. He hissed through his teeth in agony as the steel bit into his flesh, cleaving effortlessly through the uniform and flashing more blood across the streets. Before Alex could even think to retaliate, his opponent had darted back once again, well out of range, his brow furrowed in a frown that seemed the vaguest bit puzzled.

 

“…huh. You're still alive.” If the man was impressed by this, it wasn't conveyed in his toneless words. Regardless, the CTDF specialist felt his face twisting into a bitter smirk. He'd surprised the bastard. That was something.

 

Now to go one better.

 

“You ain't seen nothin' yet!” Flipping his sword around point-down in his good hand (the other hanging painfully by his side), Alex drew it behind his back so the blade was level with his spine. His brow furrowed in concentration as he focused, his body tensing. He had to be quick about this, quicker than he ever had before, if he wanted to walk away from this at all—nevermind defeating this juggernaut!

 

He heard the subdued hum behind his back, saw his shadow lengthen in front as the light built up around the blade of his sword, causing it to gleam white. “I've been saving this for somebody like you…” he growled, eyes narrowing to slits. The man merely stood, his blade held down by his left hip as though in a sheathed stance, tensed to strike as well.

 

Alex blurred into motion first. “Light Wave Blade!” Lunging forward with a step, he brought the gleaming blade around in an upward arc that flipped it around upright in his hand again, and in its wake it left a dazzling shockwave of white light that seared along the ground, blazing a path across the distance to his foe. The sword, unable to withstand the strain of the unleashed power, exploded in a shower of white-hot steel shards that rained down around him. That was okay, though…he wouldn't be needing it after this.

 

But the man struck with the lightning quickness of a serpent, his sword flashing horizontally across the ground…and it actually deflected the shockwave aside, sending it careening down the street a ways to explode against the façade of a small souvenir store.

 

There was no time for shock, for the next stroke scored across Alex's left leg just above the knee. The leg gave out on him almost immediately, more from shock than true disablement, but it was enough. A third, swipe, almost as though the black-winged warrior were painting a morbid portrait with his steel, bit into Alex's right shoulder. He twitched, spasmodically, finally unable to resist crying out as what remained of his sword clattered from limp fingers.

 

Finally, standing over him, the swordsman bent down low. His voice came again, a bare whisper. “You have amused me. Before you die, you shall know the name of your killer. There was a time when I was called…Sephiroth.”

 

Sephiroth. It was a name he would remember all his life. All two remaining seconds of it.

 

Stepping back just the appropriate distance, Sephiroth raised his impossibly long sword, laying the flat briefly to Alex's bleeding shoulder. Slowly, he brought his arm across the body, levering the sword for a backhanded swipe. At least he was going to make it clean. Regardless, Alex squeezed his eyes shut reflexively, waiting for the end.

 

The end never came. The sound of the blade whispering through the air, just on the edge of hearing, was cut rudely off by the ring of steel biting steel.

 

Alex's eyes snapped open and to the side, to see that the cold, merciless steel had been blocked mere inches short of its goal…by a slender blade of impossible composition, its oddly crystalline length radiating prismatic light from within, colors swirling in and around one another so that the blade constantly radiated a medley of rainbow colors. It was a blade he had only seen once before in his life, the day he and many of his fellows were inducted into the ranks of the CTDF.

 

It was the shimmering blade of Lunar Harmonia. The sword of the Queen herself, the blade that she had wielded to bring about the supposed era of peace in which they lived now. Legend and hearsay held that it had not been removed from its ceremonial chamber since the Palace had been erected, much like the Silver Crystal itself.

 

There was a brief moment of struggle, the silvery slightly-curved blade straining to complete its journey, but although Lunar Harmonia wavered for but a moment, it remained unyielding and implacable, and even pushed the other sword away.

 

Sephiroth darted back once again, his eyes narrowed in true menace this time. This was someone for him to take seriously.

 

Alex felt his eyes go round and wide anew as he recognized the soft, unmistakable cadences of the voice that spoke from above and behind him. “You have something in your possession that does not belong to you. Return it.”

 

Slowly, Sephiroth reached his free hand into the depths of his coat, his expression contorting again into one of mock-consolation. “I suppose you mean this.” Nestled upon his hand, as it emerged from the coat, was the most dazzling thing Alex had ever laid eyes upon.

 

Stories had been told of the legendary Silver Crystal. Of how it radiated the light of a million colors, many of them undefined or even unrecognizable to human eyes, that blended together into its pale silvery shimmer. Of how its warmth could bring comfort even in the frozen wastes of the Antarctic. Of how its power could revive the life in a dead sun. A jewel of literally limitless power, the source of the well-being, preternatural health and longevity of the people of Crystal Tokyo.

 

The stories didn't even begin to do justice to the priceless treasure that Sephiroth so carelessly handled, and Alex's eyes followed it unerringly despite the haze of pain and weariness as the dark swordsman tossed it idly up into the air and caught it again. So this was why the army had been dispatched. This was why the Queen herself stood behind him, wielding a sword she had not touched in centuries.

 

However, Sephiroth's smug expression disappeared in an instant, as a pale, slender hand lifted itself into view in Alex's peripheral vision, palm upturned. The Neo-Queen did not utter her command again, but the light surrounding the Crystal took on a subtly different quality. Sephiroth actually flinched as tendrils of silvery energy, like lightning, sparked to life around the Crystal until he was forced to release it. It remained hovering in the air, unmoving, for a brief moment before slowly drifting across the distance to land in the hand of its true mistress once again. Her fingers closed around it with a slow surety, and then her sword lifted once more, its point replacing her hand in the corner of Alex's eye.

 

“Now be gone from this place,” Neo-Queen Serenity pronounced in tones of finality. “If I see you again within the confines of my kingdom, you shall be destroyed.”

 

Rather than displaying the proper reverence, however, Sephiroth only snorted disdainfully. His sword, he affixed to what appeared to be a small clip designed subtly into his coat, holding it in place at his left hip with no sheath. Then his arms slowly crossed, his single black wing fanning out its slightly ruffled feathers. “The deed has served its purpose, regardless. Welcome the Darkness into your kingdom, and into your heart, your Highness. You will save yourself and many others so much difficulty.”

 

The Queen's answer was singular, resolute, and final. “Never.”

 

Sephiroth spread his hands and shrugged, as though it were a matter of profound unconcern to him. “A pity. The Darkness will come, heiress of the Moon, regardless of your noble gestures. Pray it doesn't wash away those dear to you in its tide.” With a snap of his fingers, Sephiroth vaulted straight up and disappeared into the darkness of the night sky.

 

But his departure did not equate to safety. From all around, from the shadow that had begun to gather, to lengthen unnaturally during their exchange, pale glimmering lights began to appear, set apart in pairs just close enough to resemble eyes. Alex knew he could see movement, knew it wasn't just his flagging strength causing his eyes to hallucinate. He could hear the sounds, chittering, shuffling, and some things even worse.

 

He struggled to surge to his feet. He would take up Grey's sword if he had to, with his own gone, to defend his surrounded and alone Queen. But his knee did not wish to cooperate, and his body was so sore…so tired…

 

It was her hand upon his shoulder—the uninjured one, this time—that halted him, the precious Crystal shifted elsewhere for the time being, though he could still feel its warm light bathing him from behind. He couldn't see her face, but he could hear the soft, gentle smile in her voice, feel it in the hand that stroked sweat-plastered hair back off his brow as she soothed, “Stay your hand, soldier. You have earned your rest, so sleep soundly. You will be safe…”

 

He was positive he could detect a kind of grim determination seeping into her words at the last, but her voice was so soothing, the light so comforting, that all he could do was succumb to her will and sag to blissful unconsciousness in the street.

 

It dimly occurred to him as he drifted off that he had missed what was very probably the one chance in his life to see the Queen's face up close, a chance many would have given their kidneys for…