Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

PROLOGUE

To the ignorant misguided fool, the two-storied manor looked harmless. Possessing a refined elegance, its walls were built by fine brick and concrete slab alike. Textured blood-red carpets covered wooden paneled floors. Plentiful book shelves stood tall while oil paintings hung here and there. Yet, the mansion was an ever-changing beast, constantly morphing and evolving. Within a blink of an eye, whole floor sections moved. Entire rooms changed or flipped up-side down. Objects mysteriously disappeared. Intricate-laced windows revealed only a vivid purple sky outside. The sky swirled with sparks of lavender light. There were no trees. No sun or moon. No horizons. It was a vast purple emptiness.

The Preta were on the hunt. They currently stalked the manor's hallways and rooms in search of their intended target. The eerie sounds they made shared a similar effect to overlapped screaming infants. Hunched, these spiteful shadowy forms towered at nine-feet tall with boney elongated limbs and beady-small purple eyes. Their mouths, filled with long razor-sharp teeth, stretched disproportionally larger than their faces. This disturbing feature made it easy for fast consumption.

A group of them gathered around a large humanoid white-feathered creature that lay sprawled across a flight of stairs; its brown eyes staring up without blinking. The Petra greedily tore the feathered creature apart, quickly ingesting its life force with their big fat mouths. Their baby-like cooing sounds emitted loudly as they grinned and feasted on the remains.

The eerie wails reached the second floor. There, a boy of seven-years-old stood in the middle of a study room. His silver hair reached only to his neck. Large cat-like eyes blazed with a green light. A pentagon spell on the door temporarily cloaked the child's presence from the Preta that hunted for him. His left hand slightly trembled as he clutched onto a long elegant blade. Green eyes glistened, as if on the verge of tears. But the boy swallowed hard and listened intently. Aside from the sounds the Preta made downstairs, nosily feasting on fresh fallen prey, he also heard a musical box play somewhere down the mansion's long narrowed corridors. Its chime echoed from various directions.

For the child, the melody sounded familiar. He'd heard it before. Somewhere. Faintly, a whisper echoed in the study room he occupied – I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Seconds later, the musical box stopped playing and the Preta downstairs grew quiet; they were done with their meal and went on the hunt for more. The boy exhaled slowly. He shut his eyes for a brief moment. Then he shifted his attentions to a bricked wall in front of him. It showed a long spiraled staircase that led down to the mansion's basement.

The path to Mother had been found at last.

Staring at the opened entry, the child kept still. A single tear managed to escape his right eye. He should've been happy right now; relieved. After many battles and multiple detours, he finally made it. The end drew near. But his journey to Mother was not without its consequences.

Angeal, Zack, and Lucy… The trio had sacrificed their life forces to ensure his survival. One by one, they fell to the nightmares that plagued this mansion. Lucy had been the last. The white-feathered Garuda-Prime with auburn eyes died fulfilling her promise to protect him. She chose to stay behind and become food for the Preta while he made his escape. The boy never knew why Lucy felt obligated to him. They never met each other in the Before-Life. Her presence felt warm though – I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

Lucy. What did Lucy have to be sorry about? Why did the feathered beast always look so sad? Holding a single white feather between his fingers, the child found it difficult to stand here with Lucy now gone.

Already, he missed his friends. Angeal. The Titan-Prime always stood tall, blocking harmful spells with his rock-made body. His attacks were powerful enough to shake the grounds. He spoke of dreams and honor. Zack. The lively Fenrir-Prime was swift and agile. The four-legged wolf constantly made him smile with his wild witty behavior, letting him ride on his back. Zack used to warn him about the price for freedom. And Lucy. The Garuda-Prime protected him with her elemental spells and remained by his side from the start. Often wrapping him with her massive bird-like wings any time he felt cold, she rarely spoke. Lucy never needed to talk though. Somehow, they were always on the same wavelength.

The three Primes each swore they would help him reach the end of his journey. In many ways, they fulfilled that promised. They brought him to this critical conjunction point. He discovered the path to Mother. But the victory proved bittersweet. The child had wanted them all to arrive here. Together.

Mother waited for him below now. The boy couldn't bring himself to feel happy about this reunion. It was not an easy thing to meet his maker, especially when the intent was to kill her. With his blade, the boy expertly used it to etch a name on the floral-patterned wall next to him. His eyes glowed brighter.

"What are you doing?" a female's voice emerged from behind.

A small girl of similar age approached him. Her body illuminated with a warm glow. She wore a frilly pink dress and a ridiculously oversized hair bow on her head. Rose-red petals appeared in her wake, glowing and dancing in the air like butterflies. Her auburn hair had been braided and pulled back into a single thick ponytail. A smile appeared on the little girl's face. Given the current glum mood, though, it didn't quite reach her green eyes.

The boy paused and turned to her. When he spoke, his voice wasn't above a whisper. "I don't want to forget my name, Aerith. I don't want to forget all that's happened if I wake up again. Maybe by leaving this behind, I can keep everything: my past, my present, and my future. Maybe I can… save them too."

Aerith grew quiet.

Keeping to himself now, the boy continued to stab the wall. He knew what was on Aerith's mind. The writing on the wall seemed pointless given that it did not actually exist. None of the mansion did, in fact.

Memories. This entire place was generated and bound by his memories. Time did not exist. If it did, the boy suspected he'd been stuck here for eons; perhaps more. He had learned the mansion's appearance reflected the same manor he'd originally come from in the Before-Life. Each room led to a place from his past, a past he either intentionally discarded or couldn't remember. It was why certain hallways remained out of reach. In exploring these enclosed spaces, the mansion proved almost as real as any place. Objects felt solid to the boy's touch. The scent of roses easily reached his nose. He could even taste the salty drops of sweat on his lips. The impossible became both tangible and possible in this realm. This, unfortunately, included pain and death.

Mother resided in this realm too. From the start, she called to him. The child heard her voice. Little dove. Save me, little dove. I'm down here waiting, waiting for you in the dark.

Despite the futility of it all, the boy finished etching the name on the wall: Sephiroth. That was the name he needed to remember after all of this was done. It belonged to him. Many other words were added. They were words Sephiroth did not want to forget either. This is the Lifestream. You died. Avoid the purple-eyed man. Angeal, Zack, and Lucy – save them. Mother lied. Kill Mother.

"Are you ready?" Aerith asked after he was done. The tiny girl stood near the entry leading to the mansion's basement. "Are you ready to confront Mother, Sephiroth?"

Before he could answer her back, Sephiroth stared at the wall one last time. Already, the mansion began to heal itself. The letters he just created with his sword slowly disappeared one at a time. Sephiroth growled. He hoped at least a few words would remain if he needed to return to this place. With any luck, though, he wouldn't have to.

"Aerith, what if I fail?" Sephiroth found himself asking aloud. A solemn expression settled on his face. "What if this is the last time I wake up and I cease to exist?"

"You can't cease to exist."

"So sure of that, are you?"

"You can't go away. You still owe me ten more wishes."

Sephiroth gave Aerith a blank look. He recalled the laundry list of wishes the little girl dumped on him when she joined his group. She considered it payment for her assistance. "Aerith, this is serious."

"So are my wishes. You only completed half of them. I've kept tabs. But don't worry. You can fulfill the others when we get out of here. And if you should die, I expect you to come back to take care of the rest. Ceasing to exist is not an excuse to get out of this important responsibility, Sephiroth."

Sephiroth stared at her again.

Aerith walked up to him. Smiling, she took his hand and held it. Her voice sounded low and soft when she said, "I made a promise to you a lifetime ago. Do you remember it now?"

Unable to meet her eyes, Sephiroth lowered his head. "Yes. And because of that, you are here. You died to fulfill that promise. You died by my hand no less."

"I don't regret what had to happen." Aerith squeezed his fingers. "When the chance to fulfill my promise came, I was reluctant to tell you about our past together. I wondered if you knew who I was; if you remembered me. But it was too late. We both grew up and went our own ways. By the time I saw you again, you were far beyond my reach." She sighed. "I should've come back for you. If I hadn't been afraid none of this would've happened…"

"It was never your fault, Aerith," the boy cut her off. "I was the weak one. You were right to have stayed away too." He released her hand and stepped back to create distance between them. "Even if you came back for me, I would've turned you away. I became a different person after the night we separated."

"Because of the Scorpion…?" Aerith murmured. When Sephiroth remained silent, she exhaled. "I never gave up hope, you know. Each day I trained myself. Each day I looked up at the Plate and thought that would be the day I'd overcome my fears and get you out of there. Even if you didn't remember me, I wanted to fulfill my promise."

Sephiroth cocked a brow. "You were going to take on the whole army of Shinra by yourself?"

"What, you don't think I could've done it?" The little girl crossed her arms and made a face. "I'll have you know, I have my ways. I managed to convince a boy to dress up like a girl once. I'm pretty sure I would've come up with an incredible plan."

Sephiroth nearly smiled. Aerith's colorful words admittedly put him at ease.

Up to this point, he felt empty and lost. It was not only the absence of his friends that bothered him, but also the memories he had encountered in the mansion. He learned he was a terrible person in the Before-Life; a powerful but indifferent swordsman hell-bent in becoming a god. Many of the rooms replayed his actions: the village he burned down, the Meteor he summoned, and Aerith's death. Every Preta creature that stalked these grounds, all intent in absorbing his energy force, was actually a life he'd violently taken. Their hate and rage toward him heavily influenced the vindictive nature of the mansion. They had every right to want him gone.

Were sins ever forgiven?

Sephiroth looked at Aerith. She was the only spirit that held no ill-will toward him and appeared exactly as how he remembered her. Despite being the one who killed her in the Before-Life, she still wanted to help. Sephiroth couldn't imagine why. Aside from their brief childhood history, she had no reason to feel responsible for what had happened. She was far too young to do anything about it. And she couldn't have known his heart died on the night he helped her and her mother escape Shinra. That had been the night he confronted the Scorpion. His mentor and guardian.

"This goes beyond you and me now," Aerith said later. She peered into the dreary spiraled path below again. "We need to merge your memories with your core, Sephiroth. And soon. The Obelisks are about to rise. Stygian must be stopped before then."

"Stygian," Sephiroth repeated under his breath. "The puppet master. Mother's creator…"

"If we stop Mother, we may have a chance at stopping Stygian. The two are one and the same."

Sephiroth looked up at some undefined place on the ceiling. "I can sense the other me now, Aerith. That must mean Gaia and the Lifestream are starting to converge…"

"Stygian's influence has grown immensely. Acheron will attempt to contain her. When that happens, everything we cherished from the Before-Life will be absorbed into his Gorge."

The boy frowned. "So long as I'm trapped here, there is nothing I can do. I cannot merge with my vessel. It may die during the purging process. Everything we fought for… it will have gone in vain."

Aerith tilted her head to one side. "Are you always this pessimistic? You're as bad as another silly boy I know." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "The other you is more than just your vessel, Sephiroth. He is your heart. Your fire. Your core. Don't underestimate him."

"Does having a heart even matter? Can it stop Stygian? Can it bring Angeal, Zack, and Lucy back?" The boy stopped himself before going any further. He took a deep breath and stared at his sword, feeling weak and pathetic. "My apologies, Aerith. I did not mean to lash out like that. I just feel so… tired."

"You've used up a lot of your energy force," Aerith quietly explained and stood closer to him.

"I know. It's nearly diminished. I've been here for too long; died too many times. Each time I return I have no memories of what had transpired. Sometimes I make it to this mansion. Other times, I die on my way to it." His eyes wandered back to hers. "I fear this will be the last time I can come back. Soon, my memories will be fully absorbed into the Lifestream. The pieces of me you salvaged will dissipate."

"Dilly-dally, shilly-shally. Don't think like that, Sephiroth. So long as your core remains, you won't disappear. I won't let you."

"To be honest, I am not afraid of the void. I am not afraid of not existing – the world was better off without me anyway. What drives me forward, thus, is not redemption but penance. I do not want anyone else to suffer for my sins again." Across the steel of his blade, Sephiroth saw his own weary reflection. "Angeal. Zack. Lucy… I only wish I could've seen them one last time."

"You'll see them again. Your will is too great. It defied the Lifestream. It will defy Acheron and Stygian too." Aerith bent forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. She smiled again. "Everything will be all right."

Whether it was wishful thinking on Aerith's part or she actually believed that, Sephiroth's expression stayed unreadable. He later spoke in a hushed voice. "Aerith… there is something I must ask of you."

"Yes?"

"If I fail, will you help the other me remember?" Deep in thought, Sephiroth closed his eyes. "I… want him to remember the stars your father used to show me at night. I want him to remember the feathers I used to collect on the rooftop of Shinra's building. And I want him to remember how the lotus bloomed on the night I fought the Scorpion."

Aerith wrapped her arms around him. She held him tight. "I will. And I'll do everything in my power to fulfill my promise. I failed to come back and save you the first time. I won't let that happen again."

When Aerith held his hand again, Sephiroth did not pull away this time. Their small fingers remained intertwined while they faced the long spiraled path below.

By now, the mansion absorbed the pentagon spell. Aerith's holy barrier faded and lost its strength. Able to detect Sephiroth's presence again, the Preta shrieked in unison. Their bizarre baby-like wails echoed throughout the manor. Hungry for the one who damned them here, they lumbered forward and soon converged at the hallway outside of the study room. As the doors and walls violently banged and cracked, both children started their long descent into the abyss below.

The darkness expanded. Aerith's illuminated essence provided Sephiroth his only light source. He stayed close to her as they descended deeper into the void. The heaviness in the area grew stronger. When Sephiroth looked out, he encountered a series of suspended cages that followed along the path of the spiraled stairs.

They revealed incomplete interior or exterior structures; fragments of places he'd been to in the Before-Life. Ghostly-scenes played on repeat in each of them. In one location, a boy bearing his likeness lay strapped to a gurney while a group of masked doctors surrounded him. With large needles, they pumped him with various substances. The child screamed. In another cage, Sephiroth saw himself as a grown man with extremely long silver hair, donned in black and silver armor. This man stood in the middle of a great fire and stared right at him; a twisted smile on his face. His lifeless slit-pupil eyes followed him as he walked away. Multiple whispers soon emerged from all directions.

You are a monster… If you want to be a hero, you need to have dreams and honor… I'll be going now. I'll come back when it's all over… My sadness? What do I have to be sad about? I am the chosen one… I pity you. You just don't get it at all. There's not a thing I don't cherish…! Go beyond the powers of science... Before your presence, science is powerless... I hate it, but I'll concede to it. Just... let me see it… Will the lotus bloom tonight for us, boy?

When Sephiroth reached the bottom floor, all the whispers abruptly stopped and every ghost scene that played now froze in place. The silence that followed was deafening. Sephiroth blinked and looked ahead. He saw a purple door. Standing at least eighteen feet tall, it was covered by a series of intricately written spells that continuously spun and glowed yellow. Sephiroth recognized them as barrier passages; passages written to isolate and contain something.

Both children approached the door. A great power emanated from within. It caused Sephiroth's whole body to go numb. He saw a black mist seep through the door's cracks and didn't move. Mother was there, waiting for him in the dark. He heard her voice. It carried a calm and soothing tone – My little dove. You've come to me at last. Open the door. Let me out. Let me out. Let me out. Let me out…

Sephiroth's green eyes shined in intensity.

The time had come to severe the connection that both made and destroyed him. Yet, a bitter sadness swept over Sephiroth; a deep regret. He shut his eyes. As terrible as Mother had been, a good part of him did not want to let go of her. She served as the remaining tangible bond he had left. A child born from the Jenova Project, he was the only candidate that had successfully fused with Mother. She gave him a purpose. She also gave him something else; something precious. Sephiroth lowered his head. His thoughts strayed back to the Scorpion. In Mother, he saw his mentor again…

"My, my, my, little dove," a voice suddenly addressed him. "You found Mother. In all of your previous incarnations, this is a first. You and your allies surpassed my expectations. Tsk, tsk. That certainly was a big boo-boo on my part, wasn't it?"

A single lavender-colored eye gleamed from the dark void that surrounded the children. From that point, a lean and tall figure emerged. He stood at over seven feet tall and wore an elegant spotless white two-piece suit with a long coat tail. A silver saber hung by his hip. With ruby-red lips and ivory skin, his face was long and well-proportioned. Short, shaggy white hair covered his left eye. As the extremely tall man approached, the white rosary beads around his wrists clicked quietly.

"Acheron…" the boy whispered.

The purple-eyed man placed himself between the children and the sealed purple door. One gloved hand tapped on the handle of his saber. "This is the part in the script where your journey ends and you die, little dove. Still, for making it this far I commend you. I am tempted to pat you on the back for a job well done… before stabbing it with my sword."

Aerith stepped forward. "Let us pass. Our goals are the same, Acheron. We came to stop Stygian and –"

"Shh…" the man quietly hushed her and placed a finger on his lips. The rosary beads clicked loudly.

Aerith flinched back when the ground under her started to rumble and glow yellow. She realized the simple hand gesture Acheron just made activated a spell. A large hexagon-shaped symbol formed under her. The spell expanded outward and became more complex in design. Glowing brighter, it trapped the child in place.

"Your innocent gig may bring all the boys to your yard, but that routine won't work on me, Aerith," Acheron spoke again. "Besides, I will not trade one corrupt force for another. Sephiroth has already tainted the pure waters of the Lifestream with his vile essence and left it in its current peril condition. Not all the bleach and detergent in the universe can clean up the mess he made – believe me, I tried."

"Then give him a chance to make it right again," Aerith implored. She visibly struggled to regain control of her celestial form but, other than her mouth, she could not move. "Let him settle things with Mother and end this nightmare."

"You would leave the fate of the Lifestream and its inhabitants to this boy? This boy who skewered you to death like a shish-kabob? Oh my, your faith in him is astounding."

"Your lack of it is equally appalling."

"Touché. But as the overseer of the Lifestream, blind faith is a luxury I don't have. It is my job to clear the debris and ensure a steady flow of the currents. Right now, the biggest obstacle stands in my way." Acheron turned to Sephiroth. "I thought I dealt with it by shedding its memories and extracting the soul so that the waters could absorb it all. And yet, the darkness that remained swiftly clumped together and manifested itself in three remnants. Of all things! You have the endurance of a cockroach, Sephiroth. Instead of referring to you as One-Winged Angel, I should dub you, One-Winged Cockroach…"

Having enough of this, the boy raised his sword at Acheron. "Enough! You may control the currents here, river god. But I will prove that even a god can bleed if you don't release Aerith and step aside. "

"You are welcomed to try." At this, Acheron bowed his head like a gentleman. The right hand wrapped around the blade's handle. His visible purple eye looked up at Sephiroth. "Just so you know: it is by your actions that Stygian has risen to power. The rot of humankind has always existed. Their malicious thoughts and emotions gave birth to this malevolent presence. But you accelerated her growth to the point of forcing my hand. I stand before you, now, as the protector of the Lifestream, as the guardian of the great cosmos and beyond and… blah blah blah. Well. You get the point."

Sephiroth barely detected the flash of silver that swiped at his face. The point of Acheron's saber grazed his cheek. It did not bleed red, yet, the thin wound leaked with tiny drops of light. His energy force.

"Please don't take my act of completely obliterating you the wrong way, little dove," Acheron expressed. "I'm normally a mellow guy. But you fulfilled your role long ago. The Planet's wrath called for you when the dirty-birdies suckled on its life force, exploiting it for self-gain. A tool of destruction was required to pass judgment and cleanse the sinners with fire. Alas, that test is over and the dirty-birdies proved their worth through the actions of seven individuals. The big-shot hero lived; the villain died."

Acheron pointed his blade directly between Sephiroth's eyes.

"You were the villain of that fantasy, little dove. You were the one that died. Because your services are no longer needed, you must slither back to whence you came –to whence you came… that sounds like something a villain would say, right? Forgive me; I'm a warrior of light so the bad-guy lingo escapes me. Perhaps you can give me a few pointers before I shove my blade into your heart, hm?"

Acheron charged at him with a straight-forward plunge. Sephiroth quickly stepped to the side. Narrowly escaping the strike, the blade ran inches across his eyes. The boy spun in a full circle to deliver a side-slash in retaliation. Masamune managed to nip Acheron's waist. But the wound instantly evaporated. It healed before Sephiroth's eyes. Chuckling, Acheron struck the dazed child on his left leg. The blade slid deep into the boy's thigh, easily penetrating it like butter.

"Sephiroth!" Wide-eyed, Aerith tried to move again. She remained trapped in place.

Even as both hands held the handle of his sword, Sephiroth's body shook. The fresh wound on his thigh felt hot. While his body was nothing more than a collection of energy and thoughts held together, given a physical appearance by his memories, he could nonetheless sense pieces of him drift away.

He had to win this fight. He had to reach Mother and honor the sacrifice Angeal, Zack, and Lucy made for him. He had to end this… nightmare. Yet, here within the deeper dark depths of the Lifestream where the waters ran purple than green, the boy remained at a disadvantage. This was Acheron's domain; his playground. Speed, strength, endurance, and even the manifested elemental steel of Masamune meant nothing to the river god.

"It is the will of the Lifestream I follow," Acheron proclaimed. His white aura radiated brilliantly as six massive white-feathered wings suddenly sprouted from his back. Feathers scattered everywhere. "After we're done here, I think I'll introduce myself to the core you left behind in Gaia. He's grown to full potential, has he not? A shame he is nothing more than a doll with no memories to call his own."

The child gritted his teeth, staring right at him. Sephiroth swiped his blade at the river god's face and successfully sliced it in half. Acheron took flight and rose twenty feet above, sending out a violent gush of wind. His saber finally pulled out of Sephiroth's leg; orbs of energy leaked from the wound.

Acheron's face reconstructed itself in a burst of light. Looking down at the boy, his blood-red lips curled into a toothy grin. "Bitter much, little dove?"

Sephiroth fell on one knee, his injured thigh leaking out more energy. He glared at the river god.

Acheron wagged his finger. "Naughty boy. Yes, I am aware of the other half; the core Aerith salvaged in the Lifestream and you manifested physically in Gaia through your will. You thought you could hide him from me?"

Sephiroth kept quiet.

"As the realms between the living and the dead begin to intersect, I sense him," Acheron confirmed, "Whereas you embody Sephiroth's discarded memories, he embodies the discarded body and soul. But I will keep the shattered fragments separated until all traces of you drift into the void. No one will remember you. No one will utter your name, not even in thought. Sephiroth will be no more. That is the price monsters pay for defying the order of the universe. And for having fabulous hair than mine."

Sephiroth felt the dread of a million souls nearby as the blackness of the void suddenly thickened. The Petra. They had arrived and converged here. A sea of beady purple eyes stared at him from the black void, surrounding him in all directions. Sephiroth growled. At only one-fourth of his strength and speed, he lacked the more powerful aspects of himself. They were locked away with his core back in Gaia.

Don't be afraid. I am beside you, a voice whispered from among the dark shadows that clustered around him and Aerith. Remember your honor. Remember your dreams, another voice added. So what if it seems hopeless? The price for freedom has always been steep, remarked a third. The last voice spoke loud and clear: We are but instruments of war, boy. They will never understand our kind – we don't need them to. Strike without hesitation. Make even the gods whimper and crumble before your feet.

Sephiroth glanced up at Aerith from his kneeled position. They exchanged a long look.

"I won't forget my promise…" the little girl whispered to him.

Aerith maintained her strong demeanor, her jawline set tight while her eyes never wavered from his. Sephiroth felt her strength. It inspired him to rise to his feet. He tightened his grip on Masamune and summoned enough energy to yell. His single earth-shattering war cry echoed across the black void, causing the Petra to go silent and make even the river god pause. In that instance, a single black wing tore out of the boy's back.

The child took flight.

It was difficult to determine the duration of their battle. Five minutes? A decade? Time felt endless. Sephiroth followed along Acheron and soared higher into the void. Their blades clashed whenever they drew near to each other. Sparks of energy surged from their bodies. Keeping track of the projectiles that shot out proved difficult for Sephiroth due to Acheron's blinding light. The intensity of the river god's aura forced him to wince and lower his guard several times. His body suffered fresh wounds. Still, he kept Acheron in his sights and deflected the more powerful swipes that came to him. The boy sent a forward-slash of his own shortly after Acheron stabbed his right arm. The river god narrowly evaded it.

It was during their battle that Acheron began to smile and hum a song. Sephiroth recognized it. It was the same lullaby he'd heard earlier in the mansion. When did he hear it the first time though? Mental images flashed before Sephiroth's eyes. He saw a shattered snow globe with a broken angel glassed statue trapped inside. An instant later, a woman with long brown hair on the ground appeared. He couldn't see her face. She covered it with both hands as she cried – I'm sorry, I'm so sorry… No sooner did Sephiroth hear those words did fragments of other memories speak to him from the blackness.

Ever since I was a child, I knew I was not like the others. I knew mine was a special existence. But this, this was not what I meant. Am I- a human being…? We are monsters, we have neither dreams nor honor… SOLDIER is like a den of monsters, don't go inside… I hate you! I hate Shinra! I hate SOLDIER! I hate you all…! Professor Gast… why didn't you tell me anything? Why did you die…? My family! My hometown! How could you do this to them…!? Abominations spawned by mako energy. That's what monsters are… Sephiroth. You were the greatest monster created by the Jenova Project…

The child lost focus. Even as he continued to soar and strike, Acheron's speedy attacks became a blur. He had trouble keeping up with him. The river god's light immediately intensified and blinded Sephiroth. He covered his eyes. Within seconds, Acheron slashed him across the chest before disarming him with three well-timed moves. Masamune spun away and disappeared into the void. Sephiroth tried to recover it but Acheron grabbed a chunk of his hair and hurled him downward.

Sephiroth slammed back to ground level with an explosion of scattered matter. His black wing instantly dissipated into a cloud of feathers while the entire body glowed white. Orbs of energy trailed away from him in greater numbers, flickering out like lights. He felt lighter than before. Weightless. The Petra, meanwhile, wailed loudly and drew closer. They cooed and manically giggled at him.

Sephiroth forced himself to rise to his feet. He remained standing as Acheron approached. When the river god stopped in front of him, he lifted his face up by the chin. Sephiroth felt too weak to push away. He could barely stay on his feet. Meanwhile, Acheron tenderly caressed his cheek with a thumb. They locked eyes with each other.

"Your persistence is admirable, little dove," spoke the river god, "But here you will remain in the Lethe. You will endure a never-ending loop of suffering until you fade from existence. That is your destiny; your fate. If you go willingly, though, I may grant mercy. For as much as I despise you, that shouldn't suggest I don't respect you."

Acheron lowered his face to Sephiroth's. He gently kissed the child's forehead.

"I will let you diffuse into the Lifestream in peace. You will not endure another cycle. You may even be reincarnated and experience a life you were deprived of. No more hate. No more sorrow. No more loneliness. And yes, you will be loved. You will belong. That is what you've always wanted, yeah?"

Sephiroth's unfocused eyes stared back at Acheron. Peace. That was an unfamiliar concept to him. Born as an agent of destruction, he had known only war in the Before-Life. He'd acquired fame by spilling the blood of others. As for love? Like a lively butterfly, it escaped him whenever he tried to grasp it in his hands. Acheron's proposal sounded tempting. To experience peace. To love. To belong. He wanted all those things the average human took for granted. Most importantly, he wanted to shed his black feathers and completely bury the monster he'd become.

But what of Gaia? Sephiroth thought. What of Stygian? Aerith had mentioned the Obelisks would rise soon. The river god intended to transform the Planet into a Gorge in an effort to contain Stygian; to prevent her infection from spreading throughout the Lifestream. A Gorge… an isolated pocket of space within the Lifestream where all negative energy collected prior to purification. All life on Gaia would instantly be relinquished and absorbed into that hellish place.

"Well, little dove?" Acheron pressed again. "Will you yield? Will you submit to the powers of the universe and restore the balance? Or will you stay a naughty boy and cease to exist anyway?"

Sephiroth frowned. Yield. That, too, was unfamiliar to him. Looking passed Acheron, the boy saw Aerith again. She stared back at him. Her green eyes were glazed. The tip of Sephiroth's mouth weakly curved up. To Acheron, he murmured at last, "I… will not cease to exist. I've… ten wishes left to fulfill for the flower girl… She will not be pleased if I fail to accommodate her demands…"

Even as tears silently streamed down her face, Aerith smiled. Her warmth radiated back to him.

"Besides," Sephiroth resumed, "…it matters not my fate. I am a monster. I am not bothered by the darkness. I am not afraid of the void. Most importantly, I am not afraid of you…"

"Willful and indifferent to the end, I see. A true monster hiding behind a pretty face." Acheron retorted with a scoff. "So be it, little dove. You can't say I didn't try." The river god pointed the tip of his blade at the boy's chest, directly at his heart – the symbolic point of his very being. He plunged it in deep.

Sephiroth gasped.

Acheron held onto the boy, cradling him. He gently drove the rest of his sword in and quietly hummed the lullaby that haunted Sephiroth's memories. His body trembled uncontrollably. Sparks of energy flowed out of him. As his aura dimmed, Aerith's voice was heard somewhere in the background. She yelled his name. She wanted him to fight. Sephiroth felt too sleepy to respond. His eyelids growing heavy, the heavenly light from Acheron surrounded him. It brought him a sense of peace. The river god resumed his soft humming. His beautiful sounds lulled the child closer to slumber. Feeling light again, Sephiroth finally closed his eyes – he was tired, he was so tired…

Within seconds, Sephiroth's light finally faded.

Acheron carefully lifted the small limb body up in his arms. He kissed Sephiroth again. Then he raised him high in the air and turned to the sea of Petra. "The end of a boy's dream draws near. Soon, the waters will be purified. We pray. Let the waters of the Lifestream cleanse this impure fragment of his filth. Let the balance be restored so that the forces of light can shun away the darkness that comes for us now. It is the will of the Lifestream."

Acheron tossed the child's body straight into the crowd of Petra. Hordes of shadowed creatures instantly came upon Sephiroth. They leapt and snarled like hungry beasts. Claws and teeth alike bit and tore off limbs. Vengeance was theirs… how sweet it tasted. Aerith's cry became muffled by their constant cooing satisfied sounds.

As the army of fallen souls continued to feast on the remains, the boy whispered his final words. "My name is Sephiroth… My name is… Sephiroth… My name… Name… My… Sephi… roth…"

And then there was silence.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 1: The Goblin King

Claudia. It was a name that slipped through Seth’s lips easily. He watched her choppy locks of golden hair dance against a warm breeze. They flickered against the sunlight like fire. Clear sky-blue eyes penetrated his green set and never strayed. As Claudia wrapped an arm around his neck, the other hand drifted to the front zipper of her sleeveless blue blouse. Long fingers gripped the clasp of it and pulled it down. Seth gazed at the pair of well-rounded, milky white – Prepare the catapult; the Elite Mark is in our sights! – and held his breath. Claudia drew closer to him. Her rosy fragrance reached his nostrils and lingered there. Seth hesitated. Then his hand rose to fondle a plumped – Are you listening to me? I need all hands at the lower deck. On your six! – with his thumb. A low throaty moan escaped Claudia’s mouth. She sighed. Licking her lips, she whispered to her lover – Hey, idiot, get on your six! NOW, DAMMIT!

A frown appeared on a young man’s face as he looked up from the book he’d been reading. He stared across an opened deck. Between the mumbo bits of digital information that scrolled up on the lenses of his thin-wired spectacles, he saw a heavy-set male in his mid-fifties approach. The man wore fatigues and a cowboy hat. A long sniper rifle nestled in between his large hairy hands.

“Are you jus’ gonna stand there and look pretty?” Roderick barked. His voice sounded rugged and scratchy. He hadn’t shaven for weeks and it clearly showed on his face. “Or are ya gonna get off your ass and help catch our mark, Sage?”

Sage… That wasn’t the young man’s real name. Still, it was the one everyone seemed comfortable with.

In his early twenties, he possessed peculiar sage-colored eyes with slit pupils. Time spent in heavy wind conditions made his shoulder-length silver hair wavy and disheveled – he gave up trying to straighten it ages ago. Holding the book in his finger-cut gloved hands, he wore a sleeveless top with a meshed hoodie pulled down. Suspenders held up his trousers which were riddled with belts, straps, and zippers. His thrift-store boots appeared one size too large.

The young man stood behind the controls of an airship. Two four-foot-tall goblins flanked his sides, each checking the monitors for current weather conditions and coordinates. Standing hunched, their long floppy green ears wiggled while they made muffled clicking sounds. Tanned leather masks and eye goggles concealed their bizarre faces.

“I swear, that damn flyin’ cotton-ball pulls in more weight than you,” Roderick went on. He climbed a set of stairs to join Sage at the cockpit. “We haven’t logged in an Elite Mark for several months on account of those Death Dealer punks. Don Corneo is gettin’ impatient. He’ll want a return on his investment. Best not to piss off our only sponsor. I’d like to reel in something today, thank-you-very-much.”

Admittedly, Sage only halfway listened to the man’s rant. His eye-ware digitally broadcasted an online flash sale happening at Yuffie’s Shiny Pretty Things. From his earplugs, a five-note beat chimed while a cloaked figure popped in a cloud of smoke. The shop owner showcased thigh high tights and a hooded raggedy robe with ears and yellow beady eyes. An animated montage of swirling rainbow colors and shooting stars filled the background while she made an announcement. Materia was half off during this hour. If he ordered now, he could get two of any elemental materias for 200 Gil. Free shipping included.

As the commercial winded down, the cloaked figure informed in a lively voice, “Remember, all proceeds go toward the Restoration of Wutai project. Together, we can make Wutai great again. The shop has also expanded its wares to include ethers, potions, and remedies so you’ll receive a free item of your choice with today’s purchase! Order now and take advantage of my deals. Do it soon or watch these amazing prices… disappear!”

The colorful figure spun around in a circle. Then she vanished in a puff of smoke. The cheesy melody from before played again.

“Hey, pretty boy! Are you even listenin’ to me?” Roderick blurted in between the music. His beady ice-blue eyes narrowed. “I wanted you down at the lower deck with the others ten seconds ago!”

Sage shut off the feed of his eye-ware with a finger tap. That incredible sale would have to wait.

“We can’t let this Elite Mark slip through our fingers, Sage. Put that stupid book away and focus.”

Sage shut his book. The cover of Treasured Fantasies showed the backside of a slim-shaped woman with short, blond hair and ivory skin. The series’ covers never revealed her face, but Sage knew her as the main character, Claudia.

Roderick muttered an obscenity as he set his rifle down, propping it against a wall. “I swear, you waste more time reading than doing your damn job. Sheeit. What the hell am I even paying you for?”

Sage stared at his book one last time. It was an unfortunate shame. He’d gotten to a good part in the story. Claudia admitted her feelings to her estranged lover, Seth. They were about to initiate their fifth coitus ritual to reaffirm the emotional bonds they’d developed throughout the course of their trials. Was it predictable? Yes. Sentimental? Terribly. But Sage found the strange affairs of human intimacy from a three-Gil, second-edition, two-hundred-and-sixty-five-page, adult-sleaze paperback entertaining anyway.

Sage turned to his coworkers and made a series of clicking sounds with his tongue. Click-clock. Clickity-click-click. Clock. This ended with the pair of Gobbies bobbing their big heads and Roderick raising a brow. As Sage stepped away from the ship’s wheel, the Captain addressed him again.

“What the hell did you say to them?”

“I mentioned my presence was required below deck, Captain,” Sage finally spoke. He didn’t speak above a murmur. “I ordered them to stay and assist you during my absence.”

That was a lie. In truth, Opix and Opox complained about being hungry. They asked if they could snack on Roderick. Sage had to remind them not to eat the crew and to behave themselves.

“Whatever. Scram,” Roderick mumbled back, completely oblivious.

The silver-haired man slipped Treasured Fantasies Volume 3 in the back pocket of his trousers. Then he swiftly leapt off the deck and slid down a rope to reach the mid-section of the airship.

High above the clouds, chilly winds whipped around the four-leveled rusty vessel. Giant rotors spun fast while greased engines clucked loudly. At the tail end of the airship, steam from the boiler room flushed out through a series of bulky pipes. As dust-coated white sails bloomed outward, whistles blew here and there. The Betty currently flew at 400 knots across the Icicle Area. Appearing blurred in the distance was the midafternoon sun.

At the lower deck, Sage found the rest of his group. Crazy Crown Seven. That was their name. Intended to convey the tough reputation of a rag-tag team of bounty hunters, he always thought it sounded cheap. Someone compared it to a low-budget, straight-to-Betflix action title. He couldn’t agree more.

The airship pushed ahead at 480 knots when Roderick accelerated its speed from the helm. The Betty held her course while it trailed behind a large white bird that zoomed several meters ahead.

Today’s mark was nowhere near as extreme as the others. Not like that Zolom from last week anyway. Still, it presented its own challenges. Since Meteorfall, the Lifestream’s leakage gave birth to all sorts of anomalies. Among them was a Chocobo that not only possessed the ability to fly extremely high and superfast, but could freely use the magical properties of the Lifestream itself.

The airship steered left when a massive bolt of electricity shot their way from the big bird, narrowly missing the hull. Sage held onto a pillar. He could hear the Chocobo wark loudly, as if in triumph. When the Betty leveled again, he went to the south end and loaded his catapult with a balled-up net. Taking position at the poop deck seemed pointless given that the mark flew closer to starboard. Still, Sage followed his orders and secured his net. The rest of his crew was stationed at their assigned spots and did the same as well.

Slice and Dice occupied the catapults at the north. Slice shot out her net first. With an attachable hand line that connected back to the clunky metal device, the meshed material contained weights to secure around the target. The feathered beast evaded it by several feet though. While Slice pulled back the net to reload her catapult, Dice employed his next. The results ended the same way.

Slice and Dice growled in unison. Hailing from Wutai and armed with curved daggers on their backs, the brother-and-sister twins were as agile and dangerous as they were weird. Two halves of a greater whole, they interacted with each other in perfect synch. Red war paint covered half their faces. For Slice, it appeared on her entire right side. For Dice, it was on his left.

“This taxes our patience, brother…” said Slice in a monotone voice.

“Agreed; the target irritates us, sister…” added Dice similarly.

Together, they mumbled, “Time to clip this bird’s wings.”

At the port side of the deck, a man in a sharp coat smoked a cigarette. Renato – a striking fellow who sewed his own clothes and was popular with the ladies – didn’t bother with the catapult. The suave archer with long black straight hair held an elegant bow instead. It was a well-known fact Renato hated guns. He considered them uncivilized instruments. Thus, the group’s archer often challenged Roderick in friendly duels to determine who the better marksman was; sniper rifle versus long-ranged bow.

“Leave this to me, ladies and gentlemen,” the archer remarked with an accent that made all of his vowels sound low and smooth and consequently caused all women within hearing range to blush.

He aimed and fired a tranquiller dart at the Chocobo. It had enough sedatives to instantly put down a Behemoth. When the dart reached its target, the bird’s rear, the archer frowned. The Chocobo kept flying. Renato raised a finely trimmed brow.

“Mm. Resilient creature, I daresay…”

Enraged by the dart sticking out of its feathered behind, the Chocobo warked again and turned. It faced the crew of the Betty and flapped its big wings. Conjuring up its elemental powers again, the bird glowed white and sent out a powerful gust of high winds. The airship nearly spun out-of-control.

Holding onto his catapult for support, Sage heard Roderick yell a string of curse words from the top deck. No doubt the leader of their group had a hard time keeping the airship afloat. Sage grew worried another attack like that would send them in a frenzy free-fall. His ears suddenly rang when an explosion boomed in the air. To his disbelief, someone shot a rocket at their Elite Mark but missed.

“Bing-bang-boom, kupos! It’s time to blow crap up and get fucking paid! Kupo-style!”

At the east part of the deck, Destry manically giggled. Her tiny wings somehow held her weight. The Moogle was nowhere near the cuddly, super friendly animal Sage used to hear from fable stories. Rather, the mischievous furry creature possessed a potty mouth to match her ultra-violent attitude. Serving as the Betty’s tech expert, Destry sported a custom -built rocket launcher in her small grubby hands. It was at least twice her size and made squeaky Moogle sounds whenever it fired.

Sage made a face and hid behind a nearby pillar. He hoped the Moogle didn’t notice his presence. Despite their obvious differences, she’d developed an attachment to him. Destry fiercely believed they were soul mates, destined to sail the cosmos together. Every day she asked for his hand in marriage.

“Destry, we’re trying to capture the mark, not blow it up.” A child wobbled forward with a cane and scolded the Moogle.

She had dark chocolate-colored skin and a mass of black fuzzy hair that was barely pulled back by a thick hairband. Wilhelmina noticed Sage on the deck with them. The kid eased into a grin at his obvious effort to hide from the Moogle. Walking toward him, she kept her voice low enough so as not to alert Destry.

“I thought you were topside at the helm,” Wilhelmina started.

“I was. Roderick instructed me to assist.”

Wil’s brows drew evenly. “He said he’d let you man the ship though. Is he giving you a hard time again?”

“Roderick is Roderick. Expect no more; no less.”

“You have a funny way of looking at things, Sage.” The tips of her mouth stretched into a smile. Only twelve-years-old, Wilhelmina acted with all the mannerisms and complexities of an adult.

They shared a strong history. Both came from Snowdrop Village, a sleepy mountain town situated deep in Mt. Nibel. The fallout of Meteorfall had left a lot of abandoned children behind in the new world. As a result, a group of Gaia priestesses who had founded Snowdrop Village built an orphanage. Sage was sixteen when he was taken there. Wil and another childhood friend discovered him drowning at a lake close to Snowdrop’s sister town, Nibelheim. When he awoke, he had no memory of his former self.

The three of them lived in Snowdrop Village until they left it five years ago. A strange disease that plagued Wil’s body since her birth had prompted them to set out for the big city. They’d searched for a special Church that allegedly housed mysterious healing waters. People who had contracted Geostigma went there. But by the time they arrived the water well had dried up. Those who still possessed samples of the blessed water charged a ridiculous amount for it at the opened Market; at least 600 Gil. Those tiny samples they’d managed to purchase kept Wil’s violent episodes at bay.

For Sage, their time bounty hunting covered the costs of the Blessed Water and served as a pleasant distraction. Because Wil aspired to become a White Mage like the High Priestess back at home, she put her healing abilities to the test. She could already master materia despite her tender age. Sage felt both amazed but alarmed by this. One doctor reported Wil’s Geostigma was a unique strain that amplified her connection to the Planet and, thus, increased her magic-based abilities. But the doctor also declared she would not last long. Each day Sage’s young friend became weaker. Like a burning flame reaching the end of a wick, Wil would eventually flicker out.

Looking at her right now, Sage wanted to ask how she felt today; curious if the fever she had this morning went away. He didn’t get the chance to when the third person from Snowdrop Village made his appearance. Coming from behind, he punched Sage hard on the arm as his personal greeting.

“Sage! You’re here!”

Rhys. Sage noted the stylish bob of his blond hair and suspected the new haircut was Renato’s idea. Briefly, he glanced at Rhys’ arms. As always, they were covered in wrappings. The man was very self-conscious about his burnt scars.

“Check it out: I made a new concoction!” the young man announced and held up a bottle. “Give it a taste. This muscle drink oughtta give you enough strength to last you to the week.”

Sage felt his blood run cold when he spotted a bottle filled with a murky-brown substance. Thick, peculiar particles floated inside. Close by, Wil looked pale. She silently shook her head at Sage.

“Some other time. I just… ate.” Sage awkwardly rubbed the arm Rhys had hit and broke eye contact.

“You sure?”

“My apologies…”

“I already ate too,” Wil quickly added when Rhys looked at her next. She took a visible swallow. “I, uh… I’m really full, Rhys. I can’t eat anything. Woof, I’m so stuffed!”

Rhys made a face as he muttered, “Man, everyone here either already ate or got a stomach virus. You’d think no one wanted to drink this.”

Sage and Wil exchanged a look but said nothing.

“Meh. Whatever. Your lost, guys.” Rhys put the bottle away in a side-bag. Then he turned to Sage. “So what brings you here? Roddy cut you loose?”

“Affirmative. He’s concerned by the lack of progress we’ve made. Don Corneo expects an update soon.”

“Ugh. It’s not our fault those stupid Death Dealers keep nabbing up all our marks. But not this time, damn it. This one is ours!”

The trio glanced at the flying Chocobo up ahead. So far, the second tranquillizer dart Renato shot didn’t work. The Wutai twins took turns cursing with one failed attempt after another. And despite being told the mark had to be captured alive, Destry switched from her rocket launcher to a flamethrower.

Rhys tilted his head to one side and scratched at the tiny blond stubs on his chin. His hazel eyes stared at Sage’s catapult. “You, uh, know how to fire one of those things, right? You’re not gonna shoot your foot with it or anything, yeah?”

Rhys sported a toothy smile while Sage frowned, fully knowing the implications being made right now.

Unlike the other bounty hunters, Sage stayed out of the action and hung out with the Gobbies. Together, they made up the Betty’s maintenance crew. He’d been nicknamed the Goblin King because of how well he got along with them, even learning their language. As the head mechanic, his job was to repair any damages the airship sustained during a hunt or the occasional sky-pirate confrontation. Sage didn’t mind. He preferred solving problems and fixing things. He also couldn’t fight to save his life.

The last time someone handed him a sword, he froze. Something about gripping a steel blade in his hands terrified him. It felt like an absolution. As a result, he had dropped the pointy end of it on his foot – that hurt. His body thankfully possessed an unusual ability to heal fast, but since that embarrassing event Roderick kept him sidelined. The majority of the crew also refused to give him anything sharp.

“Don’t be a meanie,” Wil scolded Rhys later. She lightly smacked his leg with her cane; a glare on her face. “Sage is a wonderful mechanic. And even if he can’t fight, I’m sure he’ll learn soon enough. Don’t forget, we wouldn’t be here if Roddy didn’t believe in him.”

Rhys snorted. “Riiight. Not saying I doubt our boy, Wil. He’s the best damn mechanic in Gaia. But Roddy only got us into his crew because he mistook Sage for someone else, some big-shot swordsman apparently.” He turned to Sage. “Right?”

Sage kept silent. Rhys was correct though; the Captain only accepted all three Snowdrop natives into his group because of his face.

His face… The Captain claimed it looked similar to a swordsman with extraordinary skill. Roderick got it in his head the resemblance signified something promising. He kept the details to himself, however, including the name of that swordsman. For some odd reason, the Captain repeatedly ordered Sage to shave his head, as if the sight of silver hair offended him. Sage settled for cutting and hiding it inside a hoodie instead. Light-tinted spectacles masked his eyes from the world. He found it all peculiar. It wasn’t just his face that garnered curious reactions, but his name as well.

Sephiroth.

That was his real name. It was the one fragment of memory he sustained after his drowning incident. Yet, one of the priestess at Snowdrop Village, a reclusive one who dwelled high in Mt. Nibel and had healed him to full recovery, refused to address him as Sephiroth. Mameha dubbed him Sage instead. She advised him to safeguard his true name until the day came he could reclaim it. He was not to reveal it to anyone, including his close associates. His life depended on it.

Thus, for six years Sage denied his true name and hid his face from the world. It didn’t make him less desperate for the truth, however. Each day he wondered if the swordsman Roderick mistook him for shared a connection. He also wondered why, whenever he inquired about him, it felt like he was walking on pins and needles.

A loud squeak interrupted Sage’s thoughts. Turning, he noticed Destry now looking at his direction; a glint in her squinty Moogle eyes. The color on Sage’s face drained. Instantly, Destry flung herself toward him at record speed. Her tiny wings flapped in a blur.

“Kupo!” The two-foot-tall chubby Moogle nearly dropped her flamethrower as she pressed and nudged her furry face against Sage’s chest. “My love! I had no idea you were here. Oh, how I’ve missed you, kupo! I thought I’d never see you again.”

Sage stared at Destry. Then he pointed out evenly, “I was topside for only fifteen minutes.”

“But it felt like an eternity, kupo! The horror! Did you come down to see me? Did you miss me? You are free to touch my pom-pom if it makes you feel better, kupo. I’ll allow it.” Destry made a long whistle sound and pressed herself against him again.

A low growl came from Sage’s mouth. He stepped back from the love-crazed animal to put some distance between them.

“I’ve chosen a lovely nest for us, kupo.” The furry creature spun in the air while she still gripped her bulky flamethrower. “Our offspring will be happy there. I imagine they will have lovely silver fur, kupo.”

Rhys visibly winced nearby. “Offspring? Between a man and a Moogle…? I’m not even gonna imagine how that will work…”

No one should, Sage wanted to say but kept that to himself.

“I think we should return to our stations before Destry gets any more funny ideas in her head,” Wil suggested, shaking her head. “Roddy will have our rears if he finds us dilly-dallying like this anyway.”

“Yeah, we got a mark to take down.” Rhys punched a fist into an opened hand and brusquely nodded. He headed to the west section to join Renato.

Grabbing Destry by her pom-pom, Wil yanked the Moogle away from Sage. “Let’s go, Destry.”

“Noooo! The father of this kupo’s future children needs meee!” The furry creature repeatedly squeaked in protest as the two made their way to starboard.

Sage stayed behind at his assigned spot, on the six.

At the other end of the ship, the mechanic stood far away from everyone. His catapult’s net remained locked in place. There was nothing to do here. The action was up north. All the Gobbies he regularly corresponded with were also on standby, awaiting repair orders. As the others busied themselves with the capture of the feathered beast, Sage observed their target more closely from where he stood. He amplified its image on his eye-ware by fifty percent.

The Chocobo sprouted such wondrous white wings. They were pure white; as white as the snow that collected on ground. It made Sage envious. He, too, desired to reach for the heavens on a similar mechanism. He wanted to ascend as high as he could go with the sun blazing behind him.

Up ahead, the mark suddenly took a nose dive. It swooped down to the clouds for coverage. Following suit, the Betty violently trembled from the turbulence.

Under the mass of clouds, the crew kept the mark in their sights. Sage’s silver hair blew uncontrollably. He pulled it away from his face and tied it up into a high ponytail with a few loose bangs falling. Then he took a glimpse over the ship’s edge to check their current whereabouts. They flew over a mass of water and white-covered mountains. At the sight of water, Sage instantly stepped back.

The Icicle Area presented a beautiful landscape; a hallmark of nature. Yet, the knots in his stomach tightened at the sight of the ocean. Sage’s teeth clicked together. He couldn’t swim. The early drowning incident kept him away from water; an unwanted side-effect of his near-death experience. Sage tried to calm the rapid beating of his heart by breathing slowly. He sucked in air and held it in place while his eyes lingered to the silhouette of the Northern Crater in the distance.

Many miles away, it appeared as a massive rock structure that nearly expanded across this continent. Rumors and legends circulated around the desolate icy-cold location. Some claimed disaster struck that spot ages ago and left a scar on the planet. Other legends insisted a great battle had taken place there. Staring at the Northern Crater’s shape, Sage felt uneasy. His mind pictured a vast dark pit that reached the core of the planet. He imagined it was a black space filled with the presence of unseen hellish forces. Something terrible happened down there. 

“Sephiroth…”

Finally letting out the air he held, Sage made a face. He thought someone uttered his name. Impossible. No one on this ship knew it. Perhaps it was in his head? Sage could never be too sure of himself. He suffered from lucid dreams. Even when no one was present, Sage swore he heard whispers echo into his ear. Rhys accounted the intense dreams to stress. Strangely enough, while they felt real and rich with details he always forgot about them by the end of the day. Only a lingering sense of loss remained. Wil had suggested he keep a dream diary. Sage didn’t want to bother with something so trivial.

He was ready to brush the strange occurrence aside until the sound softly emerged again.

“Sephiroth…”

Now Sage turned his head to the left. His brows furrowed. Standing not far away from him, a child with a frilly pink dress and long brown hair appeared. Her entire body illuminated. Crimson flower petals danced in the air around her. The girl’s green eyes locked into his. She smiled in a familiar sort of way.

With a finger, Sage tapped on the rim of his glasses to turn it off. The device must’ve accidentally turned on again. A gift from the tech-savvy Moogle, his spectacles enabled him to take Synaptic Net Dives into the Worldwide Network or pull up information onto his glass lenses. It came in handy during complicated repair jobs. Sage could summon the Betty’s schematics, order vital ship parts, and indulge in Treasured Fantasies lore. Glitches like this tended to happen from time to time though. He kept tapping on his glasses to get rid of the digital ghost image. He paused when the girl lifted a finger and pointed at a direction. Her smile disappeared.

Curious, Sage followed her gaze. He froze. His mouth partly opened.

Black sails emerged from a mass of clouds miles away. A large image of a skeletal jester’s face grinned at him. The black-painted structure closed in fast; its engines quiet. It was another airship.

“Death Dealers…” Sage whispered. His green eyes narrowed behind his spectacles.

No doubt, they came for their Elite Mark. The Death Dealers had already snatched away the previous bounties. Their stealthy ship, the Wild Card, gave them the advantage. Its engines did not make a sound and a built-in electrical current interfered with radar signals, allowing them to pass through undetected. From his own research, Sage learned the Wild Card was based off a prototype design by WRO’s Aerial Division Director, Cid Highwind. The Death Dealers stole his blueprint.

Sage felt grateful to the eye-ware glitch. Had the little girl not appear and gesture for him to look aft, he wouldn’t have noticed the Death Dealers sneaking up from behind. The silver-haired mechanic quickly located the nearest alarm lever. He pulled it down to alert Roderick and the others of their unwanted guests. As the Betty’s siren wailed, Sage glanced back at the spot the girl stood.

The digital image was gone.

“Those damn jerks are at it again…” Rhys griped aloud. He clenched his fists and punched a nearby wooden pillar, glaring at the opposing group of bounty hunters.

“Kupo says bring it!” Pumped for an upcoming battle, Destry tried to imitate a lion’s roar. It sounded like a cat’s meow instead.

The competition among bounty hunters had always been an intense affair since the World Regenesis Organization offered rewards for kills and captures of dangerous creatures. While WRO created its own specialized branch to deal with the more serious threats, their armies remained short-handed on account of the ongoing reconstruction projects and occasional riots. That created a window of opportunity for bounty hunters; all of them eager for justice, glory, and pay.

Thus far, the Death Dealers posed as Crazy Crown’s main rival. And the biggest thorn on their side. From engaging in sabotage to putting their competition out of commission during an active hunt, they deliberately ignored the Code-of-Conduct rule book set among bounty hunters. Donned in their black leather clothes with strange rainbow-colored hairstyles and skeletal jester face masks, Sage perceived them as annoying characters of a terrible Treasured Fantasies fan fiction. Even the loud metal music that blared from their airship’s speakers screamed desperation. But the Death Dealers remained at the top of the food chain. Worse, their numbers and popularity continued to grow.

It was now a race to the finished line. Whoever got to the Chocobo first won the race. The Betty picked up speed again. Efforts to retain the mark before the Death Dealers came within reach of it doubled. As Sage raised his meshed hoodie to cover his silver hair, he wondered how nasty things would get.

By now, the leader of Crazy Crown Seven arrived at the lower decks, no doubt leaving the Betty at the hands of the Gobbies. He shut off the siren and took a spot north with the others.

“WRO wants this mark alive, people.” The Captain’s rough voice boomed. He looked at everyone. “Not only do they want to domesticate the critter, but those damn animal rights lovers don’t wanna see a dead Chocobo in the news – they got a soft spot for the big birds. So, WRO is rewarding anyone who captures this Elite Mark, alive, ten thousand Gil. Dead, only brings in five. Let’s aim for ten, folks.”

As the roused-up crew whistled and cheered, ready to get their mark, Sage noted the sniper rifle in the Captain’s hands. Ten grand or not, he suspected Roderick would put the Chocobo down himself to prevent the Death Dealers from snatching up another prize. Feeling unsettled by this possibility, Sage’s green eyes strayed back to the white bird up ahead.

The Chocobo flew westward but moved sluggish and slower. Renato’s darts must’ve finally taken an effect. It wouldn’t be long until it was out cold. Sage observed the archer take aim with another tranquilizer dart. Renato was set to release it until the Betty abruptly jolted hard with a metallic shriek.

The Wild Card had caught up. It approached from their side and rammed straight into them. Sage and the rest of Crazy Crown crew struggled to stay on their feet. They got hit again. Entangled metal soon kept the two ships connected. Close by, Sage heard the other group of bounty hunters laugh.

“Well, ain’t this sweet of ya?” the leader of the Death Dealers spat in a high-pitched voice. “You guys reserved our spot? Geez-whiz, thanks!”

A lanky boy, no more than ten-years-old, lifted off his Jester’s mask. The child had enough freckles to fill a sky. Due to his short height, he had to sit on the right shoulder of a six-foot-tall bulky dark-skinned man – a man who probably lifted 300-pounds for a living. The neon green baseball bat in the boy’s hands matched his spiky hair color. He twirled it a few times and grinned; metal braces on his teeth.  For Sage, it was hard to imagine the leader of the most powerful bounty hunting group in the world was barely hitting puberty.

“No one invited you here, Piper. Get lost, you snot-nosed brat,” Roderick ordered with a sneer.

“Hey-heeeey. Manners, old man, manners!” Piper mocked. “I’m just a kid, susceptible to the terrible influence of adults like you. Mind yourself.”

“This is our mark. Turn your vessel around, go home, and watch your damn afternoon cartoons.”

Piper tilted his head and appeared deep in thought. Then he snickered. “Naaaaah, old fart. I’d rather pwn your lily-white asses to the next century. ‘Sides, if your team was anywhere near to our level of awesome-sauce, you would’ve caught the damn thing by now. I swear, you make it so easy for us.”

“We got here first, pencil-dick,” Rhys countered. He looked ready to pummel something to a pulp.

“And? So? That matters to me why?” Piper’s irritable voice rose above the clunking sounds of the Betty’s engines. He swung the bat in the air. “We’re getting the mark. Savy? If ya wanna stick ‘round and watch our fabulous selves take home the gold again, cool. We love havin’ an audience. But we’re gonna tear through your paper plane if ya don’t stand down.”

“Come at us, kupo!” Destry aimed her flamethrower at Piper, ready to blaze away. Wil held her back.

“Hoo boy! That flying rodent has some fire,” Piper bellowed above the laughter of his crew. “Gotta give it some credit though; it’s got bigger pom-pom balls than the rest of ya.”

While Destry struggled to break free from Wil’s grip, Sage glanced at the Elite Mark flying further away. Their intertwined ships made it impossible to keep up with the Chocobo. Piper must’ve noticed it too because he immediately spoke again.

“Well, kiddos, It’s been a blast. But it’s high time I cut this conversation short and get our bird. Laters.”

Piper turned to another mask-wearing Death Dealer. She stood post at the Wild Card’s cockpit. He snapped his fingers at her. Or at least tried to. When he failed to snap his fingers for the third time, he growled and tapped on the bald head of the man he sat on. Mr. Big-and-Bulky snapped his fingers loudly on behalf of Piper. The girl at the ship’s controls came to attention and nodded. She pushed a lever.

Piper’s face relaxed again.  “Until the next time we meet again, losers! Gyahahahohohooohahah!”

A terrible laugh for a terrible boy, Sage thought with a wince. Before anyone could say anything about it, an unusual buzzing sound echoed in the air. The noise grew louder. Curious, Sage approached the railing. His green eyes darkened when he found a series of opened slots. Evenly spaced apart along the Wild Card’s side, saw-blades with a diameter of five meters began to slide out of each one. They spun fast. Sage emitted a low throaty grunt once the blades started to shred through the Betty’s metal walls. Sparks flew everywhere. Losing air pressure, the alarm sirens activated.

Roderick raced to the nearest intercom. He slammed on the button and ordered the cockpit crew, “Shut off compartments 6 through 9 and employ aft thrusters. Reverse! Reverse, damn it! We’re gettin’ chewed alive!”

Immediately, the sound of thrusters roared. The Betty bucked as it tried to free itself from the Wild Card but failed. Their ships entangled, Sage knew they needed to pull away soon before the blades penetrated deeper into their hull. His eye-ware digitally reported the current percent of damage accrued so far. It sat at twenty-two percent within a span of only a few seconds. At this rate, they’d lose the Betty and plummet below. Into the waters.

Terrific.

Meanwhile, Piper and his crew were on the move. The leader of the Death Dealers put on his mask. He and fifteen others grabbed their hover-boards. Each of them hollered and whooped as they leapt off the Wild Card. Fire shot out from the tail pipes of their flying devices while they went after the Elite Mark.

“Pity we cannot afford hover-boards, brother,” said Slice in her flat voice.

“The Death Dealers have big sponsors, sister,” informed Dice.

“A sad day in the skies today…” they muttered in unison.

The Gobbies at the helm continued to fire the aft thrusters at maximum power. As before, the Betty jerked several times but could not break away.

Watching the saw blades spin in a blur, Sage knew his maintenance team needed to seam the Betty’s wounds as soon as they got loose. He removed a PHS from his utility belt and sent out a text message to all of his Gobbies. The game plan was simple: gather as many metal panels they could carry and divide into two teams. Team A, the exterior group, needed to meet him at the main deck. Team B, the interior party, had to gather at the Berth level where the damage had taken place. Together, they would work to seal the gaps from both sides and hopefully save the Betty.

The rest of the Crazy Crown crew stood in silence; wide-eyed. They heard the Betty whine in protest. Sirens blared loudly. Nothing could be done. Worse, their nets could no longer reach the target. With no hover-boards to pursue the chase, the Chocobo was as good as Piper’s.

“I can’t believe this,” griped Rhys and kicked his catapult. “We’re losing another mark to that brat again. I swear, the next time I see Piper I’m gonna find the world’s biggest paddle and spank the crap out of him with it. Someone needs to teach that rotten kid how to share.”

“Don Corneo will not be pleased by this news,” remarked Renato. “Heads will roll if we lose this one.”

“Lemme go, kupo, lemme go!” Destry demanded several feet away. She wiggled and tried to squeeze out of Wil’s grip. “I’ll fly after them. I’ll roast all those ass-wipes alive, kupo!”

“Easy. Easy, now,” Wil urged. “Don’t let them rile you up. You know it’s bad for your blood pressure.”

Destry managed to find an opening and broke free. She darted forward, ready to fly after the mark and take down the entire Death Dealers by herself. The chubby Moogle didn’t get too far. She panted and heaved; her tiny wings already tired out.

“Gimme… (pant, pant) … a second, kupos… (heave, pant) … just need a break… (wheeze)”

“You need to lay off those kupo nuts, Destry,” Renato muttered and lit another cigarette.

Destry growled and raised her flamethrower at him. “Kupo, are you telling me I’m fat?”

From the other end of the ship, Sage could hear the anxiety in his teammate’s voices. They bickered nonstop. He spotted the Captain not far away. Roderick reached the edge of the deck; rifle in hand. With his back to him, the mechanic couldn’t see the expression on his face but knew what this meant. The Chocobo flew over a mile away. Still, it remained within Roderick’s hit box. He never missed. Again, that sense of dread consumed Sage. His eyes lingered back to the fleeing bird in the distance.

Piper’s gang of hunters drew closer to the Chocobo. They formed a semi-circle and had their handheld catapult nets ready. It wouldn’t be long before they captured the beast. As Roderick held up his rifle and took aim, Sage knew the Captain intended to claim the mark, even if it meant by decreasing its value. It would come at the price of the Chocobo’s life – a bird whose only sin came from its unique creation.

Sage slipped his PHS back inside the utility belt and glanced at his catapult; the same useless device he’d been assigned to this whole time. A thought suddenly hit him. He took his position behind the large rusty device and rotated it to a full 180 degree circle. It now pointed it toward the forecastle deck straight across. Roderick appeared dead-center on the target’s scope.

Holding his breath, Sage knew he’d be grilled for this mutinous action. Roderick would either kick him off the team or shoot him between the eyes – their former pilot had met the latter fate. It couldn’t be helped though. Killing a Chocobo out of bitterness didn’t sit well for the mechanic. There was no honor in it. Right as Roderick found his perfect shot and prepared to open fire, Sage pushed down on the catapult’s lever.

Plop! The net ejected into the air before it landed across the deck. From behind, it wrapped around Roderick, taking him by surprise. He misfired.

“Damn it! What the hell!” The Captain tossed and turned as he attempted to get loose.

Sage crossed to the other side of the ship and joined his team. He saw the confusion on each of their faces. “My sincerest apologies,” he started, “I thought I had a clear shot of the target from my position. I seem to have accidentally hit the Captain instead. How terrible of me…”

Roderick immediately growled; still trapped. “Sage! You idiot! You ruined my shot!”

Renato cocked a brow at the mechanic while he helped Roderick loosen the net. “Sage, beautiful Sage… Kindly explain how you thought it was possible to capture our target from the ass-end of the ship, especially when the target is over two miles away and that net only shoots up to 400 meters?”

“It was an unfortunate miscalculation on my part.”

Nearby, Destry chuckled while Wil blushed. Rhys covered his eyes with a hand. Renato blew out smoke from his cigarette. Slice and Dice stared at him with blank expressions. And the Captain’s face bloomed to a brighter red shade. He looked ready to burst until the Betty violently shook again.

Their vessel finally broke free. It reversed away but more alarms sounded off. While the Wild Card steered onward, fully intact, the now-exposed hemorrhaging that occurred at the Betty’s portside resulted in a massive loss of air pressure. The ship began to slant to one side. Sage’s ears throbbed with a dull pain. He could feel the ship descend too fast. His eye-ware reported forty percent of damage with engines burning up to critical levels. Those engines struggled to keep the Betty afloat while simultaneously pressurizing the incoming outside air. Sage could hear them cluck louder than usual.

At this point, the overheated engines would pop and they’d explode mid-flight if they attempted an emergency landing right now. Sage’s best bet was to close off a few of the breaches. That would help stabilize the air pressure and allow them to land without burning out their engines…

“Make yourself useful for once and fix this, Sage…” the Captain ordered through gritted teeth as he finally tossed the net aside. “I’ll shoot you where you stand if we die.”

It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.

Thankfully, Sage didn’t have to wait long for his maintenance crew to arrive. Ten Gobbies emerged on the main deck, marching forward as a single unit. It was Team A, the exterior repair party. Each was armed with welding tools. Strapped with harnesses and ropes, the beastly creatures stood hunched and ready to go. Sage knew the interior group was also in position; his PHS buzzed with a confirmation notice. They had the metal panels required to seal the gaps.

One Gobbie offered Sage a harness. Slipping it on and clasping a hook to a pillar, Sage stood with his team. They neared the ship’s railing together, all of them evenly spaced apart. The lead mechanic bit back the twisting feeling in his stomach. He forced himself not to look down at the water and held his breath. On his hand signal, Team A leapt off.

Sage gripped onto his rope. His heart pounded fast. Inside his leather gloves, his palms were slippery with sweat. The read-out from his eye-ware reported the current distance of the Betty’s injuries. He kicked down to reach them. Each time he did, he caught glimpses of the ocean below. That light-headed sensation he’d encountered before intensified. A lack of oxygen from inadequate breathing made him dizzy. He wanted to pass out. At some point, Sage pulled out a portable oxygen mask from his utility belt. It was the only way he could take in air properly.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the distance, horns blew off. The Death Dealers cheered in unison. Flying together, they held onto the feathered beast they successfully netted. It was still alive. Looking away from the event, Sage wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or frustrated right now.

Nine hours had passed since Crazy Crown Seven lost another bounty to the Death Dealers. For the mechanic, the aftermath brought good news and bad news. The good news: the Betty lived to fly another day. Currently stationed at the docks of some backwater town in the Icicle Area, she had safely kissed ground after Sage’s team sealed up some of the breaches. He now conducted repairs to the airship while the rest of the crew went into town to blow off steam for the evening.

As for the bad news, that came in two-folds for Sage. The first issue dealt with the engines. They’d suffered enough damages to warrant replacement parts. It wouldn’t be cheap. The accumulated costs rang up to 15000 Gil. No other online vendor offered less. Their group could only muster 8500 Gil. This meant Roderick had to have a serious talk with their sponsor.

Whereas the Death Dealers had over fifty sponsors, Crazy Crown Seven had just one: Don Corneo. He partly funded their hunts but demanded a hefty sixty-five percent take of their bounty reward. The fuel he supplied wasn’t free either. The man only offered it with a small discount. Sage had never met Don Corneo before. Only Roderick was given permission to speak directly to him. Many stories circulated around the wheelchair-bound guy though. Aside from having an affinity toward young pretty women, he was a colorful trigger-happy man that did away with anyone who displeased him. Sage hoped the Don hadn’t put a bounty on their heads for today’s failed hunt.

As for the other bad news, the mechanic found himself in the dog house again. No surprise. At least he didn’t get shot. The Captain hadn’t spoken a word to him since they lost the Chocobo. Sage suspected Roderick would cut him loose after the Betty reached optimal status. He kept to himself in the meantime. Giving the Captain space, he only reported updates on the Betty’s condition via PHS.

Sage sat outside on his harness, hanging in suspension by a rope. The moon was half-awake while stars littered the night sky high above. He wore a heavy fur-collared coat to ward off the chilly air. Sparks of light came from his mini blowtorch as he welded two metal pieces together and sealed up a gap. A thick plate protected his face. In the distance, the ocean looked peaceful. Snow-covered mountains dominated the north section; he could still see the Northern Crater beyond them. It would’ve been a serene moment if not for his current company.

“Kupo is the love of my liiiiiife. Kupo, I’ll be your loving wiiiiiiiife. Kupo, we will fly to the brightest staaaaaar. Kupo, we’ll reach the cosmos and go faaaaaaar… ”

Destry hovered next to him and whistled the rest of her melody. To her credit, she had a lovely singing voice. Sage wondered if it was an acquired talent or an inheritable Moogle trait. His face plate concealed a small smile as she danced in the air. It didn’t escape him that the Moogle only sang for him.

Sage kept silent as he diligently worked. The Gobbies were gone. He gave them the rest of the evening off but stayed behind to complete the hull repairs. Even though they weren’t going anywhere until the engine parts arrived, he wanted to get a head start on things. Tonight’s goals were simple: fuse the torn fragments and make them whole again.

“Kupo, you are quiet tonight,” Destry said and momentarily stopped whistling. She flew close. Her bat-like wings fluttered fast. “Are you okay?”

“I am in satisfactory condition, yes,” Sage replied, his voice muffled by the face plate. “Why do you ask?”

“You seemed upset earlier, kupo. Is it about the Captain? Kupo, he won’t kick you off the crew. I won’t let him. I’ll stuff a grenade in that kupo’s pants if he tries to.”

Sage resumed working in silence.

The Moogle tilted her fluffy head. When she spoke again, her voice sounded quieter. “Kupo, I know what you did. I know what you did for the big bird. You have a good heart, kupo…”

Sage paused for a second. Then he continued to weld.

“That is why I love you, kupo. I see a light in your eyes. There is something special about you, kupo.”

The mechanic turned to her. A moment of silence dragged between them before he murmured, “Continue singing, Destry. I enjoy your sound. It reminds me of something. Of what? I do not know. But it makes me feel… warm.”

Destry beamed. She spun around. The Moogle immediately whistled her merry tune again.

Sage knew that request would get Destry to stop worrying about him. But in truth, thoughts of regret had wormed their way into his mind. He actually was worried over everyone’s fate. It wasn’t the first time he thought about the future with a sense of dread. Uncertainty always unnerved him. His own path was no clearer than a foggy morning. Two things always helped him relax, however: Rhys and Wil.

Sage may have felt out of synch with the rest of the world, but it always brought him pleasure seeing his best friends find their place in it. Rhys and Wil got along with everyone. They contributed to Roderick’s group and were happy being bounty hunters. They wanted to stay in it. Any time they set out on a grand adventure, their faces blossomed with color.

Unfortunately, if the Don put a hit on them for today's failure it would be all over. No more adventures. No more dreams. It would be his fault; Sage didn't let the Captain do his job. Their sponsor no longer wanted excuses. Roderick had gotten rid of their pilot because the Don got impatient with their lack of progress. Now he was the group's weakest link. Sage couldn't fault Roderick for always giving him a hard time. His weakness and inability to kill put everyone's lives in danger.

Provided that Don Corneo gave them a pass, returning to Snowdrop Village seemed like the next logical step for Sage now. He thought about assisting the priestesses at the orphanage. Perhaps he’d finish that garden project… It would be a quiet life for him. His decision to return home would at least keep Rhys and Wil in Crazy Crown. So long as he was in Snowdrop Village, they’d know where to find him and visit him any time to talk about their latest adventures. Sage didn’t care if raising children wasn’t his true passion. He had his books. Through Treasured Fantasies, he could live out any battle and romance he wanted.

It was close to eleven-thirty in the evening by the time Sage completed the exterior hull repairs. He switched off the blowtorch and exhaled. The rope creaked as he sat on his harness in silence. There was nothing else to do, especially without the engine parts to work on. Sage lifted up his face plate and took in the open air while observing the starry night sky.

“I’m hungry, kupo,” Destry complained. She rubbed her round belly in circles with a tiny hand. “Rhys fed me one of his muscle drinks. He claimed it would give me strength for a week, kupo. But it tasted like an ass-crack and gave me diarrhea instead. That kupo has no business being in the kitchen.”

Sage bit his lower lip, trying not to laugh. He wholeheartedly agreed with her. Rhys, a self-acclaimed health guru, made a habit of creating unintentionally terrifying concoctions. It was all designed to amplify the body’s performance, something he took a great interest in. Rhys strove to create the perfect body with a mixture of kickboxing and dietary supplements. But not only did his attempts taste awful, he also relied on gut instinct than common sense. Anyone who braved his inventions ended up in the infirmary.

“Anyway, I ran out of kupo nuts,” mentioned the Moogle. “Do you have any to spare, kupo?”

“Regretfully, no.” A subtle growling in Sage’s stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten since this morning. His eyes strayed to the town beyond the docks. The hour was late but the night life had just begun – people strolled about in their coats. “I can acquire edible treats if you desire.”

Among the yellow-lit structures, Sage spotted a two-storied establishment: the tavern. It was not far from the docks. He recalled the crew heading off for food shortly after Rhys had announced he made dinner for everyone. The mechanic wondered if they chose that place to unwind. Sage could hear music and laughter from it.

Destry made a whistle sound. “I wanna come with you and check out the sights, kupo. Let’s go!”

Sage frowned. “Destry. You know you cannot be seen in public. That is against the rules.”

The Moogle stuck out a small pink tongue. “Oh, screw that, kupo. Rules are made to be poked, smashed, and blown to smithereens.”

The mechanic sighed.

Had Meteorfall not destroyed her home in the Ancient Forest, Destry wouldn’t be among them now. Her concern over the big ball in the sky had prompted her to leave the forest and investigate it. Her clan, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with human affairs or get involved. They had stayed behind; convinced the forest would shield them from disaster. That decision cost them their lives.

And so, Destry was the last of her kind. As such, safety precautions were set in place. The Moogle needed to stay away from the public eye. Not many knew of her species’ actual existence. If they did, they’d swarm after her like lotuses. She’d be treated as some over glorified object; a thing of worship with little regard to her unique personality and quirks. For some reason, that bothered Sage. He didn’t know why. In the end, he concluded he wanted to keep her safe from all potential dangers.

“Stay, Destry,” he urged her quietly. “I will gather substance for us.”

“I’m going to town, kupo, with or without your help,” the Moogle declared back. Her mouth curved up into a grin soon afterward. “C’mon, kupo, let’s be baaad. Let’s conquer this town together!”

Sage stared at her. Destry’s relentless nature made it impossible to compromise.

“Please, kupo?” Destry persisted. Her furry ears slightly sagged. In a whisper, she admitted, “I hate being left behind…”

Sage’s eyes softened. Those words struck him. Looking away, he muttered, “…Very well, Destry.”

The pom-pom on Destry’s head suddenly bounced up. Its red color glowed brightly.

“But you will obey me,” Sage quickly added, “You will follow my commands without question.”

Destry’s ears wiggled. “I love it when you talk in that dominating tone, kupo. Very kinky.”

Sage already regretted this. Whether their companions had headed to the tavern, he did not know. But it seemed nice enough. Something about that place appealed to him. He felt drawn to it like a magnet. Sage placed his blowtorch inside his utility belt. Then he slowly hiked down with his rope. Destry followed along.

Sage kept his hoodie on as they arrived just outside the tavern. Behind him, Destry growled in his backpack. He’d stuffed the Moogle inside it. Keeping the top flap unlatched, she could still breathe. The compact space aggravated her though. Twice, Destry’s giant pom-pom popped out. He had to repeatedly remind her to keep it inside. It didn’t help she was very round. The chubby Moogle really did need to cut down on those kupo nuts, Sage mentally noted to himself.

Together, they entered the tavern and were greeted to folk music. A live band performed onstage to his left; complete with drums, acoustic guitars, bells, and wooden flutes. The establishment was packed tonight. It consisted mostly of tourists who came to enjoy the ski slopes and natural springs during this time of the year. Sage found the two-storied low lit tavern rather charming. A bricked fireplace burned brightly at the far back, keeping the air warm, and an excellent evening view of the mountains appeared through a large glassed window. Nearby, framed photos of celebrities lined against a mason wall. Sage discovered advertisement flyers posted there too. One caught his eye.

There wasn’t anything special about the ad. Printed on cheap paper, it contained only a wolf design and cheesy slogan: Strife Delivery Service. You name it, we deliver it.

Sage turned away from the advertisement. His green eyes darted left to right across the tavern. There was no sign of his crew. Either they had headed out already or were somewhere else. Still starving, the mechanic decided to find an empty place to sit and order food.

He navigated through the crowd. It was difficult seeing beyond a few feet without someone blocking his view. Twice, someone nearly spilled their drink on him. Sage moved toward the pockets of opened space. At some point, a busty woman approached him. The tight-fitting corset she wore pushed her enormous breasts all the way up.

“Hey, baby. Looking for some company?” She smiled and smelled of cheap floral perfume. “I can sing you a lullaby if you got the right amount of Gil for it.”

Sage kept silent and hoped Destry didn’t hear this conversation.

“We can sing to each other all night long, love,” the sporting lady continued and took a step closer. She brought her hand up to his hood in an attempt to lift it away from his face. “What’cha hiding under there, baby? Something nice and sweet, yeah?”

“It is none of your business,” Sage replied and caught her wrist. The motion was a blur. It surprised the woman. He moved her hand away and began to walk around her. “I’m also not interested.”

“Queer…” she muttered after him.

Sage ignored her. He wasn’t in the mood for a night of foolishness. The last time he engaged in that type of behavior, he woke up with a splitting headache and his Gil gone. Tavern harlots were ruthless.

“Queer?” Destry suddenly asked, barely audible, “Who’s a queer, kupo? What’s going on out there? Was that a woman I heard, kupo? Are sluts talking to my kupo? They better keep their damn hands…”

“Silence,” Sage ordered with a sigh.

Eventually, they came across the tavern’s bar area. He wasn’t surprised to find it packed as well. However, he froze in place when he made a surprising discovery at the left side of the bar.

Between the people passing to and fro, he caught glimpses of a figure sitting at the far corner. Its lean dark-clad form slanted against the counter. The back was to Sage but the wild blond hair caught his attention. Its choppy, messy state instantly reminded him of the cover from Treasured Fantasies, of the beautiful Claudia. In page twenty-two of Volume 1, Seth had encountered his lover at the King’s palace. He saw only her back. Sage’s cheeks flushed with warmth at the similarity of that scene.

Only in the deepest depths of his desires did the mechanic admit to wanting a Claudia of his own. He wanted to peer into the woman’s sky-blue eyes. He wanted to connect her warm sensitive parts to his. He wanted to declare his love to her and have it returned to him. Was this destiny then? A meeting of two compatible forces? It’d explain what drew him here in the first place. He’d sensed a calling in the air. It did not matter if this magical moment occurred at some a low-brow tavern in the middle of nowhere. After all those years of reading his favorite series, of daydreaming, he found Claudia.

Driven by a sense of fate, Sage pushed ahead. He ignored the non-stop whining from his Moogle, the hopeless drunks, and the attention-seeking tavern whores. His eyes remained fixed on the figure with blond hair; desperate to see more of her. Luck was on his side. Sage discovered an empty seat next to her. A small smile shaped his lips. He approached the stranger from behind and took a deep breath.

Announcing his presence to his destined lady, he politely inquired, “Excuse me, miss: is this seat taken?”

He expected to encounter a similar event in Treasured Fantasies. His Claudia would turn around and reveal her soft wonderful features to him just like she did in the book. They would smile to each other, share a few laughs, and dance the night away. Sage anticipated for this and more. Instead, the blond-haired person turned around. Hardened features with icy blue eyes greeted him.

“I’m not a miss, asshole,” came a male’s indifferent response. “Take the seat. Whatever.”

Sage grew silent.

The man looked to be in his late twenties, wearing dark attire that concealed most of his ivory skin. The pauldron piece on his left shoulder revealed a shiny, metal-made wolf pendant. While he possessed clear blue eyes, the intense light in them baffled more than allured Sage. He hadn’t seen anyone else possess a glow like that, aside from his own anyway.

Sage watched the stranger sip from an auburn-filled glass with a sense of disappointment. Granted, something about this man caused his body to tense up. His left hand twitched, as if seeking for something. The blond-haired male reflected back a perplexed expression of his own. He gazed at him with a side-ways glance and lightly licked over his lips. Something about that tiny gesture made the mechanic take a dry swallow. He dismissed the odd reaction; glad his hood covered his face.

Taking a seat, Sage kept to himself and avoided looking at the man beside him – that man went back to drinking his beverage and texted in his cellphone. Sage slipped off his backpack and carefully set it down on the wooden floor. Destry budged a little. She lifted the top flap of his backpack just high enough to take a peek outside. Sage stared at her with a silent warning not to draw attention to herself. Then he sat up in his bar stool and noticed the bartender.

“What’s your poison, son?” the bartender approached and asked. “Beer? Wine? We got it all here. Yes sir, we certainly do. It’s the best stuff you’ll ever taste.”

“I’d like a menu, actually.”

“Eh?” The big guy frowned. “You don’t wanna drink?”

“Hot tea would be fine.”

The bartender looked at him. Then he snorted. “We only serve real drinks here.”

“Very well. A shot of your finest drink.”

The bartender gave him a long look. Finally, he tossed Sage a flimsy menu with curious stains on it and stepped away to fix him his drink. Sage kept his gloves on and browsed through his options.

Hanging above the bar counter, a television set blared loudly with the evening news. Sage slightly winced. His sensitive ears always made social outings difficult; they picked up everything. Tonight was no different. Both ears throbbed from the ongoing ruckus in the tavern. Sage gave off a low sigh.

“The 6^th Anniversary of Meteorfall is right around the corner,” a reporter from TNN informed in the television set. “Annually held at Edge City, the festival drew in over two million people from around the world last year. That number is expected to double this weekend.”

The mention of Meteorfall attracted Sage’s attention. Curious, he glanced up from his menu.

“We’ve received word that former President Rufus Shinra will be making a rare public appearance at the opening ceremony and give a speech. Our reporter caught up with WRO’s Director, Reeve Tuesti, to confirm this news. At WRO’s Headquarters, here’s what he had to say.”

Onscreen, a forty-something male in a long blue coat appeared with a reporter. Strands of gray streaked his hair. The two were in front of a massive complex. Divided into eight parts, seven vertical structures connected to a center building through a series of glassed walkways. A line of soldiers stood in red regal-styled dusters close by. Sage recognized them as members of R.O.S.E. Their insignia – a seven-petal rose – appeared on their right armband.

“I believe it’s high time we mend our past,” Director Tuesti said in his interview, “The Shinra Electric Power Company will always represent a dark chapter in our history. We’ll never forget that. Still, we can’t let the past get in the way of our future. I came from Shinra myself, as you know. The people that believed in me made all the difference. They inspired me to make a positive change in the planet.”

“And you believe it’s the same for Rufus Shinra?” the reporter inquired.

“I’ve talked with Mr. Shinra plenty of times prior to his decision. And I wholeheartedly commend him for going public. He intends to bring closure to those affected by the company’s controversial actions. Like I said, it’s time we mend our past. It begins with Mr. Shinra.”

“But aren’t you worried about potential protests? Already, there have been death threats made against Mr. Shinra. Many still believe his Mako Reactors were responsible for the fatal disease, Geostigma.”

At this point, the bartender returned with Sage’s drink. He placed an order for a medium-done steak with steamed vegetables and requested a bowl of pecan nuts for Destry. When the bartender left again, the young man downed the tavern’s finest drink.

It tasted like battery acid.

“Those reactors existed way before Mr. Shinra took office,” Director Tuesti mentioned above Sage’s head. “Our scientists also confirmed no connection between Geostigma and the mako fumes from the reactors. As for the death threats… yes, we are aware of them. We’re taking all cautionary measures. While I hope the people will embrace this positive change, Commander Rhapsodos of the Red Unit will be operating in the area to maintain the peace during the festival.”

Director Tuesti turned to the group of R.O.S.E. members. One man, a fellow with striking blue eyes and wavy auburn-colored hair that nearly covered an eye, stepped forward. Sage sat frozen in place.

The Royal Order of Specialized Enforcers served as WRO’s elite branch. Led by a respectable man, General Rainier, they were divided into seven teams with seven commanders: Yellow, Red, Orange, Purple, Blue, Green, White, and Black. The color of their uniforms corresponded with their assigned unit. Formed after the Deepground incident, R.O.S.E. dealt with various high-level threats, from unsanctioned summoned entities to monster outbreaks.

“Our priority is the safety of Edge City’s citizens and her visitors,” informed the high-ranked R.O.S.E. officer. “We’re prepared for the flux of people arriving here. My unit will be working in conjunction with other teams to ensure this historical event runs smoothly. No detail has been missed. As for those who seek to disrupt the public event with violent gestures, there will be consequences. Of that, I promise.”

Sage stared at the image of Commander Rhapsodos. Something about his face looked familiar. He had seen him before. Then again, the images of R.O.S.E. appeared everywhere online. Children all over the world idolized them. When they were younger, Rhys wanted Sage to leave the village with him and join their group. Sage concluded he must’ve stumbled across the Commander’s face at that time.

“Six years ago, our world was nearly destroyed by Meteor,” Director Tuesti said and stared into the camera. “Since then, we’ve battled one obstacle after another. This is a special time to come together. We must honor our fallen loved ones with unity and faith; not violence and rage. We ask the people of Edge City and its visitors to exercise good judgment and to report any suspicious persons or activities to the proper authorities. We want this to be a safe celebration for everyone.”

The news reporter thanked the two gentlemen before concluding the interview. As the crowd in the tavern thickened, a brown-haired man bumped against Sage at the bar area. He ignored him, still looking up at the TV. With the interview done, he thought about the upcoming Anniversary event.

He’d attended only one of the festivals. Sage wasn’t too impressed by it. The celebrations seemed like an excuse for people to gather together, get drunk, engage in one-night stands, and come up with wild theories over what had happened on that strange dark day. The long years that followed after Meteorfall caused a corrosion of the truth. What remained were fabricated tales of gods and men.

For himself, Sage didn’t remember the Meteor falling. He was discovered at the lake a day after it was all over. When he finally came to, the world appeared in shambles and a disease, Geostigma, emerged. Perhaps he was fortunate not to recall the event. Sadly, the same could not be said for Rhys or Wil.

Rhys had lost his family to behemoth-sized creatures. The priestesses back home called them Weapons. These Weapons ravaged the land days prior to Meteor’s arrival. Rhys barely made it out alive when his village was attacked. His house had caved in, trapping his parents and younger sibling inside. He could not free them and helplessly watched the fires that surrounded them burn them alive. The third-degree scars on his arms served as constant reminders of his helplessness. Rhys had trouble sleeping; he could still hear their screams. Naturally, he reserved a deep hatred toward those giant monsters.

As for Wil, she never knew her parents. Her mother had abandoned her at Snowdrop Village when she was a baby. Consequently, she resented the woman who brought her into this world – the question ‘why’ plagued her from time to time. That aside, Wil recalled the fireball in the sky at the age of six. Observing it with the priestesses, she claimed she’d heard a voice before the Lifestream erupted from the ground and saved them.

All becomes one, it apparently said.

The mechanic stared at his empty glass. So much pain, so much misery… He wondered how any god would allow a catastrophic event to happen. For what purpose? Sage paused from his mental questions when he noticed the blond-haired man sitting beside him look his way.

The saturated blue color in his eyes seemed to shimmer. He leaned closer and a small scoff surprisingly came out of him. “You should pay more attention to your surroundings, y’ know.”

Sage’s brows furrowed. In the man’s soft and husky voice, he detected a subtle accent. It sounded from the Nibel area ironically enough. The next words that came out of the man’s mouth, however, confused him even more.

“That guy that bumped into you just now… He took off with your bag.”

Sage had no idea what he was talking about until he glanced at the spot where his backpack should’ve been. It was gone. His eyes shot up. The stranger beside him was now staring into the tavern’s crowd. Sage did the same. Eventually, he discovered the brown-haired man that bumped into him seconds ago. On his back was a very familiar bag. He could see Destry’s pom-pom sticking out of its top flap. The thief was already near the exit by the time Sage flew out of his seat and followed suit.

“Destry…!” he called out.