| GCB Fanfics: The Fanfiction Project |
The Truth in Nightmares: Fire and IceTime: Unknown Malevolence descended. No one knew the nature of this force—even the most perceptive among the sleeping fighters, those who could sense its presence, knew neither its dark origins nor motives. And only a blue-haired warlock from Zeal had ever given it a name. This force—this Black Wind—had many forms, drawn to death and suffering instinctively, yet unable to cause such to any confident, self-aware mind. Except tonight. Tonight, even the most hardened fighters shivered in their beds, and the moon itself, previously full and round, took shelter in the shadow of its sister. The shadow’s crescent grew until not a speck of moonshine remained. Two sleeping fighters thought themselves the best and strongest in their shared world, two men made of flesh, presuming themselves to be gods. And malevolence descended. ~~~ The boy watches, the man walks. The younger, a blond, spiky-haired kid, tries to shout something to the man. But though his words may have been heard, the man—also blond, wearing mercenary’s clothing and a buster sword—laboriously continues, struggling to place one foot in front of the other, hollow steps crushing the ruins of the ancient temple. The second man, cloaked in nobility as cold as his green eyes, watches mutely. He sees the walking man only—the child does not belong to him. Nor would he notice even if it did. Another step. He shouldn’t be doing this. The world… Aeris… Tifa………… someone must stop him. But no one comes, not even the flower girl he thinks he loves. Everything is frozen, frozen in time. ~~~ “Mother. It’s time to go.” The first word warms the air, the mist spreading rapidly through the chamber in which she sleeps. Mother……… Reverently, the man places his bloodstained hands on the smooth metal shoulders. He does not fear what he must do—she has assured him that he will not harm her. The silver-haired man lifts with all of his super-human strength, ripping circuitry and wires as he brings the steel torso to his own chest. Sparks fly unheeded from the broken lines of power, burrowing themselves delightfully into the his exposed face before swiftly dying. The man sets the figure down for a moment and gazes at her perfect visage, still ignorant of the light show. His green-tinted eyes, flat as polished glass, both absorb and reflect everything. No light touches them, for his mind is bound to hers. Fire, death, and blood lie behind him, but he barely remembers. For his mind is bound to hers. A girl and her father lie in the last chamber, both cut down by his sword. But regret has no place in his heart, for— Two footsteps echo behind him. The man turns…… As the soldier slashes. Clothed in Shinra blue, he thrusts his buster sword deep into the green-eyed man’s gut, sword and arms shaking with exertion. Raw fire spreads throughout the SOLDIER’s frame, coating his clothes with blood. The injured man cries out wide-eyed, an agonized roar of betrayal. “Who..... are you......?” A youthful voice, strained with emotion and battle’s rage, responds from under the Shinra helmet. “Mom... Tifa... my town... give it back... I had so much respect for you... I admired you... ~~~ The nightmares—sharp and painful enough to anguish even Vincent Valentine—chuckled to themselves, and two troubled minds shuddered helplessly in feeble response. The first convulsed in his sweat-soaked bed, muttering incomprehensible phrases to the merciless night air. The second sat beneath a tree—he had thought himself safe, had thought himself too lightly asleep for nightmare’s reach. He was wrong. ~~~ “There, Cloud. Good boy....” sneers the green-eyed man. Horror blooms in the shorter man’s eyes as his feet move for the final step. He can’t…… he mustn’t……… Sephiroth extends his hand, patiently and without demand. He has no need for verbal command or haste. Anger at his calm, imperious demeanor flares brightly, and for an instant, the hand hesitates. But a silent flash in turquoise eyes starts it moving again, carrying the black gem towards the owner of the eyes. Finally, their hands meet, and with a shudder, Cloud releases the Black Materia and collapses onto his knees. Sephiroth chuckles. “.......Well done.” His face lights with sadistic pleasure for an instant, as if considering a kick to complete Cloud’s humiliation. Instead, he turns away, leaving the other man kneeling on the ground. As his body vanishes, Cloud can almost hear him laughing. The boy kneels by his side, and becomes a part of him once again, but he cannot stop the burning self-hatred........ ~~~ Cloud rose in a rage, clawing at confining blankets. He swung an empty fist, the imaginary Buster Blade at his sworn foe—the chair in his room, morphed into the image of his enemy. “Sephiroth!!” he bellowed to the night air. ~~~ Cold....... Sephiroth cannot shiver anymore. It might drain what little strength he has left. Instead, he leans on the Masamune, still cradling the head of Jenova. She had insisted...... He had taken such wounds before, he knows, wounds from a lifetime of battle, but he cannot recall any single moment. Nor does he have the luxury to try. Tunnel vision—a side-effect of shock. Damn. One more step. Then another. No illusions, now. Nothing but the blood. And her........ “Sephiroth!” He is standing on a bridge, as he hears the footsteps—so close, and yet so very far away..... With a semblance of his former grace, Sephiroth swivels and stabs the boy. Cloud’s eyes widen in shock as the sword enters his chest and exits his back. “Don’t... push....... your luck.......” hisses the silver-haired man despite the pain of breathing and the blood still trying to escape his chest. He lowers his sword, but the boy does not slide off it. Instead, his hands grip the blade, ignoring the sharpened steel edge nesting itself in his palms. Sephiroth growls, dragging the boy to the edge of the platform. He has to free the sword.... Abruptly, the boy straightens his legs, firmly planting his feet on the metal rafter. Sephiroth falters, the grip on the Masamune slipping on his own blood. Despite the blinding pain, twin to Sephiroth’s own, Cloud meets Sephiroth’s weakening force with the younger strength of his. For an instant, they are bound together in steel, blood, and the all-knowing agony. Then, Sephiroth feels his own feet leave the ground. It can’t be! How......? One final shove, and the boy hurls him over the edge, the Masamune finally sliding neatly out of his stomach to join its master. Falling..... falling....... how.......... Mother........ He doesn’t feel himself hit the Mako energy, only the blinding, blue-white embrace of madness. Everything spins, swirls, ebbs, eddies, twists, and turns chaotically, endlessly. Only Jenova remains unmoving, her head drifting lazily in the Lifestream. No mortal was meant to live here. No creature was made to know the things he now knows. No one would expect him to survive even his first few seconds in this endless insanity. But he does not die, to his infinite anguish. How long his torment continues, he does not know.... Then, ice. ~~~ Sephiroth’s eyes snapped open, and he glided to his feet, liquid steel and tiger's fury. One hand rose unbidden to the hilt of the Masamune, but he caught it neatly with the other. He forced his lungs in careful, measured breaths, and only after several moments did he permit himself to speak, dark flashing eyes carrying what his cool tone wouldn’t. “Cloud.........” ~Fin~ Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire, I hold with those that favor Fire, But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate, To know that for destruction, Ice Is just as great, and will suffice. ~ Robert Frost Back |