Last Exit for the Lost Chapter 30
Heaven and Hell
By Damodred
"I don't know about this," said Tifa, under her breath. She jumped slightly
as a voice said "Why?" immediately behind her. Turning, she beheld Sephiroth,
smiling faintly at her, one eyebrow raised. Despite her inability to read
him she somehow knew his question was serious, and not just making conversation.
She spread her hands, unable to explain away her feelings. "I don't know,
this place just feels...odd." She shifted uneasily under his green gaze,
and turned towards the Pride to mask her confusion. "Are we ready?" she asked
in Aerith's general direction. "Shera feels very strongly about her plane,"
the Ancient answered, amusement twinkling in her eyes. Her tone became one
of mock exasperation "Perhaps too strongly." Shera straightened out from
behind the engine cowling and winked at Tifa. "I'm ready!" she yelled for
the benefit of everyone, ducking back behind the cowling and getting back
to her work. Aerith sighed dramatically, shook her head and shared a
commiserating look with Tifa. It was obvious where the engineer's priorities
lay. Since they weren't in any particular hurry, no-one minded the slight
delay, especially since Shera obviously knew what she was doing and everyone
wanted the plane in good shape. Sephiroth shrugged, settled himself on a
nearby rock and chewed on a blade of grass thoughtfully. Aerith looked at
him for a moment and then joined him, moving into the crook of his arm as
if she always belonged there. He adjusted unconsciously and Tifa, watching,
briefly envied them their easy comfort with each other. The world seemed
blurry for a moment as she wiped away an errant tear and then turned away,
unable to deal with the sudden onslaught of emotion that seeing them together
like this brought on. She thought of Cloud, always there for her, his strong
arms around her, always ready with a small joke or a quiet comment, reserved
for her and only her. She missed him terribly, and it made her angry. She
opened her mind to the Planet, knowing the comfort she could find there and
floated for a while until a gentle touch on her arm (she knew it was Shera)
brought her out of it. "Shall we?" Shera asked, unusually quiet. Tifa nodded,
still unable to speak but for now at peace. They set out in the direction
that Aerith indicated.
The forest eventually cleared, disclosing a massive building in the shape
of a pyramid. There was a moat around it and a simple rope bridge going from
the forest to the entrance to the pyramid. Tifa could not tell if there were
any openings into it, but at the top the pyramid was flattened and there
seemed to be a darkness there, deeper than the darkness of the forest. It
was completely black and gave off a feeling of...Tifa wasn't sure exactly
but the closest she could think of was...sleep. No one had been here for
a long time. There was no wind. But Tifa could sense the enormous potential
that was lying here, waiting for...what? Perhaps for someone to awake it...
Aerith was the first to break the spell, moving forward with a sense of purpose
that she certainly did not feel. For the first time in years, she felt
uncertainty that had nothing to do with her purpose. This was something else,
something beyond petty revenge (although she had never thought of her hatred
of Shinra as petty). She was wondering now if something WAS awake here, something
that had seen her, appraised her and silently condemned her purpose. She
shrugged, mentally, and reinforced her defenses. As far as she was concerned,
it was none of the long dead Ancients' business what she planned to do in
her spare time. Besides, she knew that if someone did not take care of Shinra,
the Planet would wither and die. She stepped upon the bridge.
As soon as he saw Aerith fall to her knees, Sephiroth was next to her, holding
her up, asking if they should retreat, scanning the area warily. She shook
her head dizzily, grateful for his strong arm to lean on, but definitely
indicating that they should stay. She was simply not ready for such an onslaught
of voices, memories and questions. Standing up, she pushed her hair aside
and concentrated. She could hear them all at once, but now realized that
if she made a special effort she could make out individual voices and even
what they were saying. It was not an attack, simply an outburst of joy at
the sight of an Ancient after so long, a warning about that which lay ahead
and questions, so many questions...
SILENCE! she screamed at the voices, mentally. They were not like
normal minds, which she could contact individually or join together of her
own volition. They were a part of the Lifestream, yet not of it. As such,
they assailed her from all directions and drastic action was required. They
died down, some surprised, some shocked, and some acquiescing out of respect.
She took a deep breath and began her own interrogation.
Shera watched as the Ancient's eyes focused once again on the material world
and breathed a sigh of relief. Sephiroth knew better. "Are you all right?"
he said, his voice low but intent, searching her eyes for sign of anything
irregular. She reached out a hand, tremolously touching his face and smiled,
"Yes, my love," she murmured softly. "There are thousands of them, but they
are easily cowed." Sephiroth gazed at her a moment more, holding her hand
to his cheek, then relaxed and nodded, briefly. "What have you found?" he
asked, not releasing her hand. She smiled at him and turned to the others.
"So we just find it and get outta here, huh?" asked Yuffie, trotting to keep
up behind the rest of the group. She's never heard of a Black Materia before,
but she most certainly wanted to find it. Aerith nodded impatiently, scanning
the corridor ahead. Something was preying on her subconscious but she was
not certain what it might be. She was also quite glad that the voices of
the Ancients have quieted down (for such wise and peaceful people, they certainly
were talkative), but again, she was not certain why they did so. There were
too many ghosts, especially here inside the Temple and she could no longer
discern any individual voice anyway. Thus she could no longer ask them questions,
which was a pity. She sensed they were wise, or at least held the experiences
of many lifetimes and wished, briefly, for guidance. Something unpleasant
ran by, laughing softly, in the growing gloom.
"We are here," Aerith's soft voice rang out in the quiet. Tifa started, brought
out of her own reverie. This place seemed much like a tomb, and Aerith's
soft and melodious voice seemed discordant in the dead air. But Tifa had
learned many things recently, and she could also tell that the life that
Aerith brought here was not unwelcome; simply unexpected. She focused her
gaze on the room that they had arrived at. It was laid out like a throne
room, or a place of worship; the heights of the room were lost in the darkness,
and the walk towards the altar (or was it a throne?) was lined with columns.
Beyond the columns, on the dark brown walls were paintings and carvings.
On closer inspection, Tifa saw that they were linear in fashion, seeming
to detail a great catastrophe. Whether this was a story or a warning, she
could not tell. Upon the altar lay what Tifa assumed to be a small replica
of the Temple. It was exquisitely detailed, and as Tifa leaned over to look
at the entrace, she could see that the inside seemed to match the corridor
that they had took to get here. "Don't touch it," Aerith breathed, next to
her, halting her wondering hands. Tifa turned a puzzled gaze onto the Ancient,
as she walked by, circling the small model, examining it closely. Finally,
she stood back and took a deep breath.
"This is the Black Materia," Aerith proclaimed, and then added, "The Temple
we are standing in is also the Black Materia." Tifa shook her head,
uncomprehending, "So you mean there's two of them?" Aerith smiled and answered,
"The Ancients were very powerful. There only exists a single Black Materia,
and it is both this object as well as the Temple." She ignored Yuffie's sharp
intake of breath and continued. "Through an application of a small magic
and a few modifications to the 'model', the Materia can be reduced to an
object that can be carried around. However," Aerith paused, looking troubled,
"the magic must be maintained for the entire process." Tifa stared at the
Ancient, and understanding slowly dawned in her eyes. She let out the breath
she wasn't aware of holding, "They didn't want anyone to just walk in and
take it, huh?" Sephiroth's head snapped upwards, as did Aerith's and Tifa's
question was answered from a raspy voice, up from above the shadows. "Correct!"
The owner of the voice dropped down from above, his wings rustling behind
him as he plummeted towards the shocked group. Scant meters above the floor
his wings unfurled with a loud snap and his descent was halted sharply. He
dropped the last few feet, and Tifa imagined she felt the ground shake under
his feet. His wings pulled inwards again, and folded behind his back, becoming
a red cloak. Yuffie blinked. She knew her eyesight was fine, and her eyes
were young and sharp, yet the seven foot bewinged demon known as Chaos now
appeared to be a rather handsome, if very tired man with long, black hair,
a red cloak covering him from his shoulders down to his - Yuffie blinked
- steel-spiked boots. Yet the quiet menace and power emanating from him were
unmistakeable; this was Chaos, now in human form, otherwise known as Vincent
Valentine - and Sephiroth's father.
.