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Chapter Text

The dream was a whirlwind of color and shadow, sensations crashing over her like waves in a storm. Aeris floated in a vast, endless space, but she didn’t feel weightless. She felt pulled, anchored by an invisible thread that wound through her chest, dragging her downward, deeper into the darkness. Flickers of green light sparked around her—distant, pulsating, like stars in some strange, alien sky.

And then, the voices started.

They whispered from every direction, a cacophony of overlapping sounds that rose and fell in waves. Some voices were soft and pleading, others harsh and accusatory, each one layered with emotions she couldn’t name—sorrow, desperation, a fierce, aching need. The words themselves were indistinct, blurred together like the murmur of a distant crowd, yet they carried a weight that pressed down on her, filling her with a deep, inexplicable grief.

Aeris felt herself falling, tumbling through the dark. The green light brightened, swirling around her, and with it came flashes of images—fractured, incomprehensible, like shards of a broken mirror.

She saw an endless field of flowers, each petal quivering as though touched by a silent wind. In the distance, a towering crystal structure rose from the earth, shimmering and ghostly, a relic of a world that felt both ancient and painfully familiar. She reached out, compelled by something deep within her, but as her fingers brushed the light, the ground beneath her shattered.

She was falling again, faster now, hurtling through the dark as the voices grew louder, a symphony of anguish that resonated in her very bones.

"Find us…"

"Remember…"

The words echoed in her mind, sharp and insistent, like commands carved into her soul. And then, just as the voices crescendoed into a scream—

Aeris woke from the dream with a gasp, her heart pounding, her fingers clutching the sheets. The room was dark, the night silent, but her mind was still filled with the noise of it—whispers like the murmur of running water, as if someone were speaking just out of earshot.

Her breathing slowed as she focused on her surroundings. Vincent lay beside her, his form still, one arm resting protectively across her. The small cabin bedroom was unfamiliar, cast in shadows that stretched from the walls. Outside, beyond the wooden beams and heavy red drapes, the woods lay silent and still.

This place was supposed to be an escape. A borrowed cabin far from Midgar, secluded in the mountains, untouched by the city’s noise and lights. She and Vincent had come here for quiet, for a chance to rest. But her mind would not stay still.

The whispers lingered.

She carefully slipped out of Vincent’s arms, reaching for the thick cardigan slung over the back of a nearby chair. Pulling it around her shoulders, she moved quietly to the window, parting the curtains just enough to peer into the night. The sky was clear, stars gleaming in clusters, but her gaze was drawn downward, to the dark, sleeping earth. She could almost feel it breathing. It was an absurd thought—yet there it was, a deep, insistent pulse, like a heartbeat thrumming far below the soil.

The Lifestream. Always there, always restless.

For as long as she could remember, she’d subtly felt its presence; a vast and ancient consciousness woven into the roots of the world itself.

Before, she had only felt it—but never understood what it was. It had been faint then. Inexplicable.

But lately, it had felt…different. More distinct. More insistent, more urgent, like it was trying to reach her.

Or perhaps like it was warning her.

Aeris shivered and closed the curtains, turning back to the bed. But before she could take a step, a flicker of movement caught her eye, a shadow shifting at the edge of her vision. She turned quickly, but the room was still. Only Vincent’s steady breathing filled the silence, grounding her. She took a slow, steadying breath, telling herself it was nothing.

Only a shadow, she thought, but the words felt hollow.

She slipped back under the covers, feeling Vincent’s arm close around her once more, his hand resting gently against her back. His warmth seeped through the fabric of her cardigan, a comfort she hadn’t realized she needed until this moment.

"Aeris," he murmured, his voice low and drowsy. His eyes were still closed, but his hand moved up, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "Another dream?"

"Just a little one," she said, keeping her voice soft, not wanting to worry him. "Go back to sleep."

"You’ve been having more of those lately."

She wanted to tell him it was nothing, that she was fine, but the words wouldn’t come. Because it wasn’t nothing. And she wasn’t fine. She hadn’t been for a while now, though she’d done her best to hide it. The dreams, the whispers, the strange sense of being watched—they were all becoming harder to ignore.

Instead, she managed a small smile and ran her fingers through his hair, the softness familiar, comforting. "Just restless, that’s all."

He was quiet for a moment, his crimson eyes finally opening, sharp even in the dim light. "I know when something’s troubling you." His voice was barely above a whisper, but there was a weight to it, a warmth that made her heart ache.

"It’s…hard to explain," she admitted, unable to meet his gaze. "I keep having these dreams. And it’s like…I don't know. Maybe...maybe the planet is trying to talk to me? I don’t know what it’s saying, though. But it feels…desperate. Like it needs something."

Vincent’s hand slid down her back in a gentle, soothing motion. "It’s not surprising, given who you are."

"Who I am…" She repeated the words, feeling them twist uncomfortably inside her. Who was she, really? An echo, a shadow. She bore Aeris’ face, her voice, and lately...even fragments of her memories. But she wasn’t Aeris. She was something different—an imitation, a duplicate created from scraps of DNA and science. A clone.

The realization never failed to sting—a cold, hollow ache that settled in her chest. No matter how deeply Vincent loved her, or how fully he accepted her, that emptiness never truly went away.

"I feel like I don’t know myself anymore," she whispered. "Or maybe I never did."

Vincent’s expression softened, a flicker of sadness passing through his eyes. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against her knuckles. "You’re more than a name. More than a memory."

She closed her eyes, letting herself savor the warmth of his hand around hers, but the unease lingered. In the quiet, the pulse of the Lifestream grew a little bit louder, and with it, the whispers.

Find me, they said quietly—though she couldn’t understand why or what they meant.

And beneath those voices, lower and more insidious, she thought she heard something else. A voice colder, darker, seeping through the Lifestream like poison. A voice that made her skin crawl, a voice she could never quite place but which filled her with an overwhelming dread.

"You’re only a shadow…"

The words drifted through her mind, echoing with a strange familiarity. She shook her head, willing them away, but they left her feeling hollow, as if something had been torn from her without her knowing.

She squeezed Vincent’s hand, taking comfort in his presence, even as the feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach.

The next morning, Aeris tried to shake off the lingering shadows of the night. A new day, a new beginning, she told herself. Whatever had haunted her before, she was determined not to let it weigh her down. Today was a fresh start—a chance to reset, to move forward with gratitude.

She stretched her arms up to the sky, arching her back as she filled her lungs with morning air, and let out a contented sigh, waking her body and spirit for the day ahead.

She stepped out of the warm cabin onto the porch, taking a deep breath of the crisp air, fresh and cool with the scent of pine and damp earth. The forest was cloaked in the rich hues of autumn, the trees dressed in brilliant shades of gold, fiery red, and deep copper. A soft breeze stirred the branches, sending a few leaves drifting lazily to the ground, where they carpeted the earth in warm tones. The air was cooler now, carrying with it the faint, earthy hint of approaching frost. A light mist clung to the undergrowth, turning the world soft and dreamlike in the early dawn. She carried a small woven basket in one hand, ready to fill it with chanterelles she’d discovered along the trail the day before. But as she rounded the corner of the cabin, she paused, finding Vincent a few yards away, splitting wood.

For a moment, she simply stood there and watched him. He hadn’t noticed her yet, his focus entirely on the task at hand. With each swing of the axe, he split a log cleanly in two, his movements strong and practiced. Aeris couldn’t resist a grin as she watched him.

“Well, aren’t you up and hard at work already,” she called out, putting a playful lilt in her voice. “Look at you, so rugged and industrious.”

Vincent looked up, one eyebrow raised. Though his face remained impassive, she caught a glint of humor in his crimson eyes. “Is that so?”

“Oh, very much so,” she replied, coming closer with a grin. “Think you could handle sharing a little of that heroism? I’d hate to let you take all the credit for this firewood pile.”

Vincent studied her for a moment, then gave a small nod. “If you think you’re ready.” He passed her the axe and stepped behind her, his hands warm as they guided hers to the handle, adjusting her grip with gentle precision. She could feel his steady presence close against her back, his voice soft as he murmured instructions on how to swing, how to let the weight of the axe do most of the work.

Aeris took a breath, adjusted her stance, and brought the axe down. It lodged in the log but didn’t split it. She laughed, a bit breathless. “It’s heavier than it looks! You make it look so easy.”

“Beginner’s luck,” he replied, deadpan, though there was a gleam of amusement in his eyes. “Or maybe I’m just that good.”

She rolled her eyes, leaning back against him with a smile. “Humble, too. I think you’re missing your true calling as a lumberjack.”

“Stick with it,” he said with a faint smirk, his arms still around hers. “A few more tries, and you might even get close.”

She gasped in mock-indignation, giving him a playful swat. “So mean, Vincent! Here I am, trying to help…”

Vincent’s mouth quirked into something that was almost a smile. “Just being honest.”

Laughing, she handed the axe back to him, feigning defeat. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave the heavy lifting to you, Mr. Woodsman. I’m off to gather mushrooms.” She raised her basket with a flourish. “Try not to miss me too much.”

Vincent gave her a small nod, his gaze softening as he watched her go. “You know I will,” he said quietly, his voice gentle. “Just…don’t wander too far.”

With a last playful smile, Aeris turned and made her way into the woods, following a narrow trail deeper into the trees. As she walked, she let herself relax into the quiet rhythms of the forest. Birds chirped in the branches above, their calls light and musical. She could hear the faint trickle of a nearby stream and, further away, the sigh of the wind through the pines. She couldn't help but smile as the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, warming her face.

She hummed to herself as she bent to gather a few mushrooms, marveling at their delicate, pearly caps and rich golden hues.

The forest felt vibrant and alive, each leaf and blade of grass glistening with morning dew. The air was cool against her skin, and everything was touched by a faint, silvery light, as if the whole world was holding its breath.

The deeper she walked, the stranger the forest felt. Shadows stretched long and dark under the trees, and the air grew thicker, almost humming with an energy she couldn’t name.

She glanced around, suddenly aware of an odd shimmer to her surroundings. The colors appeared brighter, almost too vivid, and the edges of things—trees, stones, even the delicate wildflowers at her feet—blurred, like a scene glimpsed through water.

A faint dizziness crept over her, a sensation like being pulled underwater. She swayed, blinking as her vision blurred further, and the basket slipped from her grasp, tumbling to the forest floor. Mushrooms spilled out around her feet as the world tilted, strange and surreal.

And then, with a soft gasp, she collapsed to her knees, the ground cool and damp beneath her hands.

The forest vanished.

She found herself standing knee-deep in a pool of still, black water, surrounded by enormous stone pillars that rose jagged and ancient toward a darkened sky. The air was cold, biting, and heavy with a silence that pressed against her ears.

She recognized it from Aeris’ memories—distant, fragmented images she rarely allowed herself to think about: The Forgotten Capital. 

Across the water, a figure appeared, tall and wrapped in shadow, with hair as silver as a blade, gleaming under the pale, ghostly light.

A chill slid down her spine, and her throat tightened with fear. He stood unmoving, his face half-hidden in the dark, but his green eyes—sharp, reptilian, and lit with an unnatural gleam—were locked onto hers, piercing and predatory.

"You’re only a shadow," his voice echoed, smooth and taunting, filling the emptiness around them. "An imitation of a life that was never yours."

Aeris took a step back, the icy water rippling around her legs.

“You’re…not real,” she managed, her voice trembling.

But he only gave her a faint, twisted smile that filled her with dread.

"What is real?" he asked, his voice a mocking whisper. "Are you?"

The words hit her like a blow, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. She wanted to turn, to run, to escape his gaze, but her legs felt rooted in place. The water rose higher, lapping at her waist, her chest, her throat, until it closed over her head, cold and suffocating, filling her lungs with darkness.

She woke with a start, gasping, her hands clutching at the forest floor. Her vision blurred with the brightness of the morning light, almost too harsh after the shadows of her vision.

“Aeris?” a familiar voice, low and steady, cut through her disorientation. "Are you alright?"

She looked up, surprised to find Vincent there kneeling beside her. His face was etched with worry. His hand rested on her shoulder, grounding her, solid and warm. She realized she was trembling, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

He helped her sit up, his arm steady around her.

The basket lay tipped over beside them, forgotten, mushrooms scattered on the ground.

She swallowed, trying to find her voice. “I…I had a vision,” she whispered, the words coming out shaky.

Vincent’s expression darkened, his jaw tight. “What did you see?”

She hesitated. Dread coiled in her chest like a living thing. “A man,” she said slowly, the image of him burned into her mind. “Tall…with silver hair. His eyes were…like a predator’s. Green, but cold. Empty.”

Vincent went still. Anger flashed behind his eyes, sharp and immediate, but controlled. He didn’t speak. He simply pulled her into a protective embrace, his arms strong and unwavering against her back.

She felt the tension in his body, the thunder of his heart beneath her cheek. His fury didn’t boil over, but simmered—quiet and restrained. Dangerous.

A moment passed before she looked up at him. “Who…who is he?”

Vincent’s voice was low, like a warning growl buried in a whisper. “Sephiroth.”

Aeris shivered. Even wrapped in his arms, the chill of the vision hadn’t left her. If anything, it grew colder.

“But he’s gone, Aeris,” Vincent said, softening slightly. “He’s in the Lifestream. He can’t hurt you.”

She nodded, but the reassurance felt thin, insubstantial. She knew Sephiroth was supposed to be gone, that he was part of the Lifestream just as Aeris was.

But that didn’t explain the visions and the whispers. The feeling of being watched. As though he was waiting.

“I don’t think…he’s really gone,” she murmured, her voice wavering. “I think he’s still out there. And I think…he’s trying to reach me.”

Vincent’s arms around her tightened, his gaze fierce. “If he’s reaching for you, then he’s already made his last mistake.”

In the silence that followed, Aeris drew strength from Vincent’s presence. But even as he held her, she could still hear the faintest echo of Sephiroth’s voice, like a dark thread woven into the song of the Lifestream.

"An imitation of a life that was never yours."

Aeris took a steadying breath. She would find answers. She would uncover the truth about who she was, why the planet was calling to her—and if Sephiroth truly was reaching out from the depths of the Lifestream, then she would be ready.

Chapter Text

It began as a whisper—a familiar hum that hovered just at the edge of hearing, low and insistent, like a heartbeat. Aeris clenched her eyes shut, trying to tune it out, but the pulse only grew louder, stronger. She sat alone in their dimly lit Midgar apartment, curled up in the armchair by the window, her hands gripping the fabric of her skirt.

She knew this sound. It was the voice of the Planet, the Lifestream murmuring in its deep, unfathomable language. She’d felt it all her life—a faint presence she’d sometimes sensed as a distant comfort, and other times as a subtle, nagging pressure. She hadn’t understood it then, hadn’t even known what it was. But over the past few months, the feeling had intensified, growing louder and sharper, taking on a shape she could no longer dismiss. Tonight, it was different. Tonight, it felt like something was clawing its way out of her own mind, tearing through the silence with a message too urgent to ignore.

She took a deep, shaky breath and pressed her hands against her temples. Her heart was pounding. Her skin was cold with a sheen of sweat. This was no ordinary whisper. It felt…agitated, almost desperate, as if it were trying to communicate something crucial.

"Aeris?"

Vincent’s voice broke through her concentration. She opened her eyes to find him watching her from the doorway, his face a study in concern. His crimson eyes, always so steady, looked darker tonight, shadows pooling in their depths. She realized she was trembling, and forced herself to still her hands.

"Are you alright?" he asked, crossing the room to her. He reached out, his hand warm and grounding as he rested it on her shoulder.

She managed a small nod, though she wasn’t sure she believed it herself. "I just…I can’t get the sound out of my head. The planet…or whatever it is…it feels like it’s trying to tell me something, but I don’t understand what."

Vincent knelt beside her, his hand still on her shoulder, his gaze searching her face. "It’s happening more often, isn’t it? The dreams, the voices…"

"Yes." She couldn’t meet his eyes. "I don’t know what’s real anymore, Vincent. I feel like I’m…slipping. I keep seeing things, fragments of memories that don’t belong to me."

A silence stretched between them, heavy and full of unspoken fears. Vincent’s hand moved to hers, his fingers gently threading through hers. "Whatever it is, you don’t have to face it alone."

She wanted to tell him that his presence helped, that his steadiness grounded her when everything else felt so fractured. But before she could speak, the pulse of the Lifestream surged, crashing over her like a wave. Her vision blurred. 

The room dissolved around her.

Aeris blinked, and suddenly she was standing in a place that felt both foreign and familiar. The cold air bit into her skin, and she could smell the damp, earthy scent of ancient stone and stagnant water. She was in the center of a large, circular platform made of white stone, carved with intricate symbols that hummed with energy.

She knew this place, even though she’d never been here.

The memory was woven into her, as much a part of her as her own heartbeat. She could feel the weight of it in her bones—a place of power, a place where something important had happened.

And then she saw her.

Across the platform, a figure was kneeling, her head bowed, hands clasped in prayer. Chestnut hair fell over her back in a long braid, and her pink dress fluttered in a breeze that Aeris could not feel. Her heart seized, a strange mixture of awe and fear twisting inside her chest.

It was her own face she saw across the platform. Or rather, the face she had been given, the face of the woman she was supposed to be.

The real Aeris.

Aeris watched, frozen, as Aeris lifted her head, her green eyes glowing with an inner light. A sense of calm radiated from her, a strength that made the air itself hum. She looked…so alive, so certain. As if nothing in this world or the next could sway her from her purpose.

And then, in an instant, that tranquility shattered.

A shadow fell over the platform, dark and sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade. Aeris’ breath caught as she saw him—the figure descending from above, tall and imposing, his long silver hair streaming behind him like a banner of death.

Sephiroth.

Aeris looked up, her eyes wide but unafraid. There was a moment—a heartbeat suspended in time—when she accepted her fate, her gaze unwavering as Sephiroth raised his sword.

NO— Aeris’ mind screamed, her instincts kicking in, but her body wouldn’t move. She was only a spectator in this memory, a ghost watching helplessly from the edges.

The blade came down.

Her heart jolted as the sword pierced Aeris’ chest, driving down through her body, splitting the air with a terrible finality. She watched in horror, unable to look away, as the life drained from her counterpart’s eyes. Her body collapsed like a flower wilting in the winter frost.

And then the world exploded in light.

Aeris’ body dissolved into fragments of green and white scattering like petals, merging into the Lifestream. For a moment, the entire world was illuminated, filled with a pure, overpowering energy that made Aeris’ heart ache with something she couldn’t name.

She could feel it—the love, the purpose, the sacrifice that had driven Aeris . It was profound. Terrifying. But there was a strange beauty in it. A sense of peace that she could barely understand. Aeris felt herself reaching out, wanting to touch it, to hold onto that feeling, to understand it.

And then…

Another presence.

Cold, sharp, and filled with malice. She turned, and Sephiroth was there, his gaze fixed on her. His eyes burned with a sinister light, something dark and consuming that made her skin crawl.

"You’re nothing," his voice whispered, echoing in her mind. "An imitation with no purpose."

The vision twisted. Her surroundings dissolved around her, replaced by fragments of memory that didn’t belong to her—faces, places, moments of joy and sorrow, love and loss. They flooded through her, overwhelming, suffocating, until she couldn’t tell where Aeris ended and where she began.

"You’re not real," Sephiroth’s voice taunted, growing louder and more insistent. "You are only a shadow—doomed to follow a path that was never meant for you."

"No!" The word tore from her throat as she stumbled back, clutching her head, her vision blurring. "I am…I am…"

The memories faded, slipping away like sand through her fingers, leaving only the hollow echo of Sephiroth’s laughter.

She came back to herself with a gasp, her body jerking as if she’d been shocked. She was back in the apartment, the familiar scent of their home grounding her, but the vision clung to her like a second skin.

She felt Vincent’s hands on her shoulders, his grip firm and steady, but his face was a mask of worry. She realized her own hands were trembling, her body still locked in the memory of the vision.

"Aeris," he murmured, his voice low and calming. "What did you see?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat, the weight of the experience pressing down on her. She could still feel it— Aeris ’ strength, her purpose, the peace that had filled her in that final moment. And then the darkness that had followed, the poison of Sephiroth’s gaze, his taunting words burrowing into her mind.

"It was…her," she whispered, her voice barely audible. " Aeris . I…I saw her die."

Vincent’s expression softened, but his eyes remained intense, searching her face as if trying to piece together what she’d witnessed. "How much did you see?"

She closed her eyes, the memory washing over her again. "Everything. I saw her…kneeling there, praying. And then…then he was there. Sephiroth." Her voice faltered. "He killed her, Vincent. I felt it. I felt what she felt."

Vincent’s hand slid down to hold hers, firmly—a lifeline in the chaos of her mind. "It’s a memory. You’re seeing pieces of her life, remnants that are…embedded in you."

"But why?" she asked, her voice breaking. "Why now? Why am I seeing this now, so clearly? It felt like…like it was happening to me . Like I was her. " She swallowed hard, trying to shake the lingering terror. "But I’m not her. I’m not."

He cupped her face, with both hand and claw, his real thumb brushing her cheek in a gentle, grounding gesture. "No," he said softly. "You are you. But that doesn’t mean these visions aren’t part of your journey. It seems like the Lifestream is trying to show you something."

She shook her head, the doubts she’d been holding back rushing to the surface. "What if…what if he’s right? What if I’m only a shadow? An imitation with no purpose?"

Vincent’s jaw tightened, a glint of anger sparking in his eyes—not directed at her, but at the doubt eating away at her. "You are not a shadow," he said, his voice fierce. "You are a person. You have thoughts, feelings, memories of your own. And if these visions are calling to you, then that is your purpose. Not hers. Yours."

She searched his gaze, finding only unwavering certainty there. A part of her wanted to believe him, to trust that she was more than the sum of someone else’s memories. But another part of her still felt hollow, haunted by the image of Sephiroth’s smile, his cold, taunting words echoing in her mind.

"You said it feels like the Planet is trying to tell you something," Vincent continued, his voice softening. "Maybe it’s time to listen. To go deeper. To find out why these memories are coming to you now."

Aeris took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. "But…I don’t even know where to start."

He squeezed her hands, his expression gentle. "I’ll go with you. We’ll follow this path together, wherever it leads."

She looked at him, gratitude and fear mixing in her chest. "Vincent, you don’t have to…"

"I want to," he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You don’t have to face this alone, Aeris."

The way he said her name made her heart ache. She could feel his love for her in every word, every touch, as if he were silently telling her that she was real, that she mattered, even when she couldn’t believe it herself.

For a long moment, they simply held each other, the silence stretching between them like a quiet promise. The vision still lingered at the edges of her mind, a reminder of the darkness waiting ahead. But in Vincent’s arms, she felt a small spark of hope, a fragile certainty that perhaps…she could find her own truth.

"Okay," she whispered finally. Her voice was soft but resolute. "Then...let’s find out who I really am."

And with those words, something shifted inside her. A resolve took root, fragile but growing. 

She didn’t know where this path would lead or what answers awaited her at the end. But for the first time, she felt ready to face the questions that had haunted her for so long.

Vincent kissed her forehead, his voice low and steady. "Whatever we find,” he assured, “whatever truth there is…I’ll be with you."

Aeris closed her eyes, letting herself sink into his warmth. The weight of everything lifted, just a little. She wasn’t alone. And maybe, just for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

When they reached Seventh Heaven, the city was bathed in the warm glow of early evening. Familiar sounds filled the air—the distant rumble of machinery, the hum of voices from the streets, the clinking of glasses and muffled laughter spilling out from the bar. It felt strange to be back after spending a week in the quiet isolation of the mountains, as though Aeris were slipping back into an old life that now felt slightly foreign.

Vincent parked the car in a street nearby, and together they walked the short distance to the bar. Aeris could feel her heart pounding as they approached, a mixture of anticipation and nervousness tightening her chest. She didn’t know how Cloud and Tifa would react to what she had to tell them—or if they’d even be able to help. But she knew that whatever happened, this was where she needed to start.

As they stepped through the door, the familiar sounds and scents of Seventh Heaven washed over her. The bar was quiet at this hour, with only a few regulars scattered at the tables, chatting quietly over their drinks. Behind the counter, Tifa was arranging glasses on the shelf, her dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, her expression brightening as she looked up and saw them.

“Hey, guys!” she called out, her voice warm and casual. She set down the glass she was holding and walked over to greet them, giving Aeris a quick hug before turning to Vincent. “How was your trip? Enjoy the mountains?" She paused. "Wait…I thought you weren’t coming back until next week?”

Aeris smiled, though the tension in her eyes was hard to hide. “Well…there’s been a change of plans.”

Tifa’s gaze shifted, her brow creasing slightly. “Did something happen?”

Aeris glanced at Vincent, and he gave her a small, reassuring nod. She took a deep breath, her voice dropping to a murmur. “You could say that.”

Tifa studied her for a moment, her expression turning serious as she took in the subtle signs of strain on Aeris’ face. She nodded, gesturing toward one of the booths at the back of the bar. “Come on. Let’s sit down.”

The three of them made their way to the booth, and as they settled in, Tifa turned her full attention to Aeris, her gaze soft but filled with concern.

“Alright,” she said quietly, folding her hands on the table. “What’s going on?”

Aeris hesitated, searching for the right words. “Lately…I’ve been having these visions,” she began slowly. “Memories that aren't mine. And sometimes, it’s like…the planet is trying to talk to me. I can’t understand what it’s saying, but it feels…urgent. Like it’s warning me.”

Tifa’s eyes widened slightly, and she reached out to rest a hand on Aeris’ arm. “The planet?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aeris nodded. “And…it’s not just that. I keep seeing him.” Her voice dropped even lower. “Sephiroth."

Tifa looked at her, greatly alarmed.

"Not physically," Aeris clarified. "But…I can feel him. Like he’s watching me.”

Tifa’s face darkened, a flicker of anger crossing her features. She glanced down at the table, her fingers tightening slightly. “After everything we went through…I thought he was gone for good.”

“Maybe he is,” Aeris murmured. “But I feel his presence, and hear his voice. And I think…I think it’s connected to whatever Aeris was trying to accomplish. I need to understand why these memories are coming to me now, and what they mean.”

Tifa nodded slowly, her gaze distant. “Aeris was…connected to the planet in a way the rest of us could never understand. She could hear it, feel it, almost like she was part of it.” She looked back at Aeris, a soft sadness in her eyes. “Maybe that connection is still there, even through you.”

Vincent’s voice was calm and steady. “We’re hoping to find answers in the places that mattered to her. If we can piece together her memories, maybe we’ll understand why this is happening.”

Just then, the door creaked open, and Cloud walked in, his expression thoughtful as he scanned the room. When his gaze landed on them, he hesitated for a moment, then made his way over, his steps purposeful. He slid into the booth beside Tifa, his blue eyes narrowing as he looked from Vincent to Aeris.

“You’re back early,” he said, his voice quiet. “Didn’t expect to see you two for at least a few more days.”

“There’s…something we need help with,” Aeris said, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension. Cloud had known Aeris well; he’d fought beside her, shared moments of trust and friendship that few others could understand. If anyone could help her find a way forward, it was him.

Cloud studied her face, his expression unreadable. He looked to Vincent, raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Vincent’s gaze was level. “She’s been having visions. Memories of Aeris, and…of Sephiroth.”

Cloud’s jaw tightened, a flicker of anger passing through his eyes. “Sephiroth…” he muttered, almost as if the name itself were a curse. He clenched a fist, then forced himself to release it, letting out a slow breath. After a pause, he looked back at Aeris, his gaze steady and open.

“Tell me what you need,” he said, his voice softer. “How can I help?”

Aeris glanced between him and Tifa, taking in the familiar comfort of her friends’ presence. “I…need to understand what these memories are, and why I’m seeing them now. It feels like the planet’s calling me, but I don’t know where to start.”

Cloud nodded slowly, processing her words. He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his gaze intense. “If you’re looking for answers, there are a few places you could go.”

He took a breath, then continued. “The first place is Aeris’ church in the Sector 5 slums. That was…her sanctuary. It’s where she grew flowers, even in the middle of all that metal and concrete. I think she felt at peace there, like she was closest to the planet in that place.”

Aeris felt a shiver run through her at the mention of the church. She had seen it in her visions, but never understood its true significance. Now, the idea of going there filled her with both hope and an unnameable dread.

“And the other place?” Vincent asked quietly.

Cloud hesitated, glancing at Tifa for a moment before answering. “Kalm. Elmyra Gainsborough lives there. Aeris’ adoptive mother.” He paused, his voice softening. “She…might not want to talk about it. But if anyone knows why you’re seeing these memories, it would be her.”

Aeris nodded slowly, absorbing this information. She’d never met Elmyra, but she understood enough to know that her presence might be a painful reminder for the woman who had loved and lost her daughter. Still, if Elmyra could offer any insight into what was happening, Aeris couldn’t turn away from it.

Cloud watched her carefully, his gaze steady. “There’s one more place I’d consider.”

Vincent tilted his head, curious. “Where?”

“Cosmo Canyon,” Cloud replied. “That’s where we learned about the Lifestream and the voices of the planet. Bugenhagen might be gone, but Red is still there, and he’s carrying on his teachings. If anyone understands the connection Aeris had with the planet, it would be him.”

Tifa’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Of course,” she murmured. “Cosmo Canyon is full of ancient knowledge about the planet and the Lifestream. If you’re experiencing something Aeris went through…that might be the best place to find answers.”

Aeris absorbed all of this, a sense of purpose forming amid her uncertainty. Cosmo Canyon, Aeris' church, and Kalm. These were the places she needed to go—each holding a different piece of Aeris’ story, each connected to the planet in its own way.

Cloud studied her with a quiet intensity. “It’s a lot to take on. But if you’re serious about this…those three places are where I’d start.”

Aeris nodded, determination steadying her voice. “I have to. I don’t know what I’ll find, but…these memories, this pull I keep feeling, it won’t let me rest. I need to understand why this is happening.”

Cloud’s gaze shifted to Vincent, his expression thoughtful, a hint of tension in his jaw. “If Sephiroth’s involved…” He let the sentence hang, but the weight of his meaning was clear.

“I understand,” Aeris said gently, meeting his eyes. She knew he was worried, that the specter of Sephiroth’s influence raised painful memories for him. “I know this must feel…familiar to you. Like history repeating itself. But this time is different. I’m a different person. And whatever I find, Vincent will be with me.”

Cloud looked away, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he didn’t respond, as if struggling to accept her decision.

The idea of letting her go. Of letting her be exposed to Sephiroth.

His jaw tightened. He dragged a hand through his blond hair, eyes fixed on the floor.

When he finally spoke, it was low and reluctant—like someone trying to let go of something they didn’t want to lose.

“All right,” he said. His tone was tense with warning. “Just…be careful. Both of you. The closer you get to these memories, the stronger Sephiroth’s influence might become. He…has a way of finding cracks, slipping through when you least expect it.” He turned to Vincent, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m counting on you to see her through this safely.”

Vincent inclined his head, his expression calm and steady. “You have my word.”

Cloud leaned back, exhaling slowly. His eyes softened as he looked back at Aeris. “Just…take care of yourself, okay? Don’t let him get in your head.”

Aeris gave him a faint smile, touched by his concern. “Thank you, Cloud. I’ll be careful.”

They spoke a little longer, discussing the details of the journey, and then Tifa walked them to the door, giving Aeris a warm hug. “If you need anything, you know where to find us,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “Good luck.”

As they stepped out into the evening air, Aeris felt a strange weight settle over her, the beginning of a journey she hadn’t anticipated. But she was ready. With Vincent by her side, she was ready to face whatever came next—and now she knew exactly where they needed to go.

The next day, Aeris and Vincent drove toward the Sector 5 slums, navigating through the winding streets and alleys that threaded through Midgar’s underbelly. The hum of the city surrounded them, the sound of machinery, voices, and the distant roar of engines filling the air. Aeris felt the familiar pulse of the Lifestream growing stronger with each passing block, a low, steady rhythm that thrummed beneath the noise of the city.

The church loomed before them, half-hidden in the gloom of Midgar’s forgotten slums—a sanctuary carved out of ruin. Aeris felt a pang of awe and reverence as she stepped out of the car, her gaze tracing the weather-worn façade, cracked and peeling, the doors slightly ajar as if inviting them in. She moved forward, Vincent at her side, and as they crossed the threshold, the silence swallowed them. Only the faint creak of broken wood marked their passage.

Inside, she froze. Her breath catching as a strange sense of déjà vu washed over her. She’d never been here before—not in this life—but the place was unmistakable. This was the church from her visions, the one that had haunted her dreams and pulled her here against all reason. She could feel the weight of it pressing down on her, as if the air itself remembered the girl who had once walked these aisles. The real Aeris.

The sanctuary was worn and crumbling, light shining through gaps in the roof to illuminate patches of lilies—white and yellow blooms growing defiantly in the cracks of the stone floor. Shafts of sunlight streamed through the shattered stained-glass windows, casting fragmented colors across the floor, an almost otherworldly effect in a place where nothing should have flourished. The air was thick with the mingled scents of damp earth, dust, and the sweet perfume of lilies, grounding her in a memory that felt both foreign and achingly familiar.

“Do you feel anything?” Vincent asked softly.

Aeris shook her head, unable to put it into words. “I…I don’t know,” she whispered. “It’s like…like I know this place, but I don’t.” She looked up at the beams crisscrossing above her, the light coming down in fractured patterns. “It feels like something is…reaching out to me. Like there’s something here that wants me to understand.”

Slowly, she walked to the center of the church, Vincent following a few steps behind. She knelt down, reaching out to touch one of the delicate white flowers that glowed softly in the light. Her fingers brushed its delicate surface; the flower felt cool and soft against her skin, and for a moment, she felt a strange connection to it, as if it were an extension of herself—a tiny heartbeat echoing back to her. Closing her eyes, she let herself sink into the quiet, feeling the hum of the Lifestream rise within her, as if the spirit of the place was welcoming her home.

And then, faintly, she heard it—a voice. Her own voice...yet not her own.

"I’ll protect this place. I’ll keep it safe."

The words echoed through her mind, a promise whispered across time. A vow made by Aeris in a life she’d never known. The memory filled her with a bittersweet warmth, a love and devotion that wasn’t hers but felt as if it could be. And with that love came something else—a shadow, cold and lurking at the edges of her awareness.

Sephiroth.

She felt him, faint but unmistakable. His presence like a stain on the memories, a darkness woven through the Lifestream itself. She shivered. The weight of his malice pressing against her, a reminder that he was never truly gone.

Vincent stood not too far from her, observing her. She looked up at him, her expression troubled.

“He’s here,” she whispered. “Not physically, but…his presence is part of this place. Like he left a mark.”

Vincent’s gaze hardened. “The Lifestream connects everything, even the darkness he left behind. If we follow this path, we might see more of him…but we’ll also find the truth.”

Aeris nodded, drawing strength from his resolve. “Then let’s go to Kalm. Maybe…maybe Elmyra can help us understand.”

Chapter Text

The village of Kalm lay nestled behind high stone walls, its quiet streets and modest homes protected from the wild, open plains beyond. Unlike the metallic sprawl of Midgar, Kalm had a rustic, almost timeless charm, with cobbled lanes and stone cottages that seemed untouched by the relentless march of industry. Clusters of ivy clung to the walls, and flower boxes spilled over with vibrant blooms, bright against the gray morning light. Despite the fortifications that enclosed it, Kalm felt open, peaceful—a refuge from the harsher world outside.

As they walked through the streets, Aeris let herself absorb the calm of it all: the muffled sounds of early-morning activity, the scent of freshly baked bread mingling with the faint, earthy tang of damp stone. Birdsong echoed in the alleys, and a soft breeze stirred her hair. There was something comforting about the village’s simplicity, something that eased the tightness in her chest, though it didn’t fully dispel the unease coiling beneath her ribs.

They followed a narrow path that led toward a quiet corner of the town, away from the central square. Here, on a side street tucked behind a row of gardens, stood a small cottage with ivy creeping up its weathered walls. Flowerbeds lined the path leading to the door, filled with marigolds, daisies, and bluebells that seemed to glow faintly in the morning’s muted light. Aeris felt a strange pang as she looked at the flowers. They stirred something deep inside her—an ache she couldn’t name, equal parts familiarity and sorrow. The flowers felt like a memory, something tender and lost.

Beside her, Vincent walked in his usual silence, but his hand brushed against hers—a quiet reminder that he was there, that she wasn’t facing this alone. She glanced at him, grateful for his steady presence, and he gave her a small, reassuring nod.

When they reached the door, Vincent paused, letting her take the lead. Aeris drew in a shaky breath, willing herself to be calm, though her heart was pounding, a tangle of dread and anticipation. She raised her hand and knocked softly, her knuckles barely making a sound against the weathered wood.

From within, she heard faint movement—a shuffle of feet, a creak of floorboards. Moments later, the door opened, and Elmyra Gainsborough appeared, looking out at them with polite curiosity. She was older than Aeris had imagined, with silver streaking her dark blond hair and lines etched softly around her eyes. There was warmth to her face, a kindness that felt both welcoming and painful to see.

Elmyra’s smile was faint, a practiced gesture of greeting—until her gaze landed on Aeris. Her expression froze, the color draining from her face, and her hand flew to her mouth as her eyes went wide with shock.

“A…Aeris?” she whispered, the name barely more than a breath. Her voice cracked, trembling with disbelief and a fragile, desperate hope, as though she were afraid to speak it too loudly. “Is…is it really you?”

Aeris felt her throat tighten, words failing her. She opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out. She could only stand there, caught between the guilt of intruding on this woman’s life and the strange, painful yearning to be seen, to be understood. It was as if some part of her longed for Elmyra’s recognition, even though she knew she could never truly be the daughter this woman had lost.

Elmyra took a hesitant step forward, her hand lifting as though to touch Aeris’s face, but she stopped, her fingers trembling in the space between them. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, and her face seemed to crumple, overwhelmed by too many emotions to name. “But…how can this be?” Her voice broke on the words, raw with wonder and grief, each syllable fragile as glass.

Before Aeris could respond, Elmyra’s knees buckled. Vincent was beside her in an instant, his arm steadying her as he guided her into the house with gentle strength. He led her to an armchair by the fireplace, supporting her as she sank down, her hands clutching at the fabric of her skirt, her knuckles white. Aeris followed, stepping inside as if in a daze, the weight of Elmyra’s gaze pressing on her like a physical force.

Once Elmyra was seated, she looked up at Aeris with wide, searching eyes, her face a complex map of emotions—shock, grief, and a desperate need to understand. “I don’t…I don’t understand,” she whispered, almost to herself, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile hope she was holding onto. “You look just like her.”

Aeris felt her chest tighten, guilt twisting inside her like a knife. She lowered her gaze, unable to meet Elmyra’s bewildered, heartbroken stare. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice barely audible, a tremor in each word. “I know this must be…confusing. But I’m not…I’m not who you think I am.”

At the sound of her voice, Elmyra’s eyes went wide, her hand flying to her mouth as she took in a trembling breath. “You even…you even sound like her,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the words. Her fingers shook as they reached toward Aeris, stopping just short of touching her, as if afraid that any contact might break the illusion. “How…how can this be?”

Elmyra’s hands fell to her lap, twisting together as though trying to hold onto something solid, something real. She looked down, her expression crumbling under the weight of her emotions. “Then…who are you?” she asked, her voice raw with the ache of loss and the fragile hope of recognition.

Aeris glanced at Vincent, feeling the words stick in her throat, uncertain of how to explain what she barely understood herself. Sensing her hesitation, Vincent stepped forward, his voice calm and steady as he spoke to Elmyra. In low tones, he began to explain—who Aeris was, how she had come to be, the threads of her connection to the original Aeris, and the strange bond she shared with the Planet. His words were careful, gentle, sparing Elmyra the harshest details, but enough to convey the truth.

Aeris watched Elmyra’s face as Vincent spoke. The older woman’s expression shifted with every word, a painful kaleidoscope of emotions passing across her features—shock, sorrow, confusion, and, at times, a glimmer of something like understanding. She listened in silence, her eyes locked on Aeris, as though trying to see past her surface, into the person hidden beneath.

When Vincent finished, a heavy stillness fell over the room. Elmyra took a deep, trembling breath, her fingers twisting in her lap as she struggled to process what she’d heard. Finally, she looked up at Aeris, her gaze soft but weighted with unshed tears.

“So…you’re not my Aeris,” she murmured, the words tentative, as though they might break her if she spoke them too loudly. “But…you carry a piece of her, don’t you?”

Aeris felt the weight of Elmyra’s gaze settle over her, and she nodded slowly, a pang of sadness twisting in her chest. “I…I don’t have her memories, or her life,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But there’s something inside me…something I don’t fully understand. And it's trying to tell me something. It’s like…like she’s part of me, somehow.”

Elmyra reached out, her hands warm and trembling as they closed around Aeris’ own, squeezing gently. Her face softened, a mixture of grief and acceptance taking shape in her expression. “Maybe that’s enough,” she whispered, her voice filled with a quiet strength. “You’re here…and I think, in some way, that means she is too.”

Aeris felt her throat tighten, her heart pounding as Elmyra’s words sank in. She looked down at their joined hands, feeling a fragile sense of peace settle over her, even as a part of her still ached with the weight of expectations she could never fully live up to.

“I don’t know if I can help, my dear,” Elmyra said, her voice laced with tenderness. “But I can tell you about her. About the Aeris I knew. Maybe that will help you understand what it is you’re feeling.”

Aeris nodded, a mixture of relief and dread swirling in her chest.

Elmyra’s gaze grew distant as she spoke, her voice carrying the weight of memories that had softened but never truly faded. “She was…always different. Sensitive. She could feel things that others couldn’t. It was like the world spoke to her in ways that the rest of us could never understand. She told me once that the Planet would reach out to her…like a voice, a whisper in the back of her mind.”

She paused. A faint, bittersweet smile touched her lips. “Sometimes…she’d just know things. Things she couldn’t possibly know. She could sense when someone was in pain, or when something terrible was coming. It was as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, even though she never complained. She believed it was her duty…as an Ancient.”

Aeris felt her throat tighten, her heart pounding as she listened. The words were both comforting and unsettling, as though they were carving out a hollow space inside her, filling it with a deep, aching sense of loss and belonging.

“And…she was never afraid of it?” Aeris asked softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Of what she could hear?”

Elmyra shook her head, her expression wistful. “No, not afraid. She had a gentleness, a kind of peace about her, even when the Planet’s cries grew louder. She understood that her connection to the Planet was both a gift and a burden, but she accepted it with a strength I never fully understood. She was…so sure, so certain of her purpose.”

Vincent’s voice was low, his gaze distant, as though remembering something painful yet beautiful. “She had a quiet courage that was rare. Even when she sensed the danger ahead…she didn’t hesitate. She kept going, not for herself, but for everyone else. It was something beyond simple bravery.” He paused, his expression tightening with a hint of regret. “In a way, it was as if she understood what was coming…and she chose to face it anyway.”

Aeris felt a surge of emotion, a blend of respect and a profound, aching sadness as she looked at Vincent. She could sense the weight he carried—the quiet, haunted regret woven into his words. Even if he hadn’t been close to the original Aeris, her loss had clearly left an impact on him, a reminder of the sacrifices she’d made. 

Elmyra’s hand tightened around Aeris’, her voice gentle but filled with conviction. “The Planet…it doesn’t reach out to just anyone. It speaks to those who are part of it, those who carry its legacy. And I think...it’s calling to you now, just as it called to her.”

Aeris felt a shiver run down her spine, a strange mixture of awe and fear settling over her. The idea that the Planet itself might be reaching out to her was both humbling and terrifying, as though she were standing on the edge of something vast and unknowable. She looked at Vincent, hoping to find reassurance, and saw her own apprehension mirrored in his eyes.

“I don’t know if I can…if I can do what she did,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I don’t even know if I’m supposed to try.”

Elmyra released her hands, reaching up to gently touch Aeris’ face, her thumb brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “You don’t have to be her,” she said, her voice soft but filled with a motherly warmth that wrapped around Aeris like a blanket. “You’re your own person, with your own heart and your own strength. The Planet may be reaching out to you because you’re a Cetra, but that doesn’t mean you have to carry the same burdens she did. You can find your own way.”

Aeris felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, and she blinked them back, nodding. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I…I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

Elmyra smiled, brushing a hand over Aeris’ hair in a gentle, motherly gesture. “Of course, my dear. Whatever you need, I’ll be here.”

Aeris looked up at Vincent, and for a brief moment, their gazes held—a silent promise that he would stay by her side, no matter what this journey demanded of them.

Elmyra watched them both with a sad, knowing look in her eyes. “Whatever the Planet is trying to tell you, Aeris…you’ll find it. Just remember, you’re not alone.”

Aeris felt a strange mix of emotions—a quiet ache, a fragile peace, and a lingering sadness that clung to her like a shadow. Elmyra’s words echoed in her mind, offering a delicate sense of permission to be herself, to let go of the heavy expectations she’d carried since she’d learned of her origins. For the first time, she felt a flicker of hope, faint but steady, like a small light guiding her forward.

As Aeris rose to leave, her gaze drifted toward the wall near the corner of the room. There, she saw them—framed photos that she hadn’t noticed before. Strange. She had been far too absorbed in the conversation to see them. One picture showed a young girl, smiling wide, her auburn hair tied in pigtails as she held a bundle of flowers. Another captured that same girl with Elmyra, the two of them laughing together, surrounded by a garden in full bloom. The girl looked so happy, so carefree. Aeris froze for a moment, staring at the faces that felt familiar yet distant, like memories belonging to someone else. A pang of emotion stirred in her chest—something bittersweet, heavy, and impossible to name. She didn’t speak, didn’t draw attention to the photos. Instead, she turned away, swallowing the feeling as it settled deep within her.

At the door, Elmyra held her gaze one last time, her eyes soft but filled with a quiet resolve. “Remember, Aeris,” she murmured, her voice gentle. “You may not be the daughter I lost…but you are still part of this world. The Planet is calling to you for a reason. And whatever lies ahead, I believe you’ll find your own path.”

Aeris swallowed hard, nodding as her throat tightened. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For…everything.”

Elmyra managed a bittersweet smile. “Take care, my dear. And come back, if you ever need anything.”

With a final, lingering glance, Aeris and Vincent stepped out into the quiet street, the door closing softly behind them. They walked in silence for a time, moving away from the cottage, from the warm glow of Elmyra’s presence. The morning light had grown stronger, casting long shadows on the cobbled street.

When they reached a quiet corner by a row of ivy-draped walls, Aeris paused, calming her nerves and exhaling a shaky breath. She looked up at Vincent, her gaze steady despite the uncertainty that lingered within her.

“Well,” she said softly, almost to herself. “I guess our next stop is Cosmo Canyon.” She turned to him, a faint, wry smile on her lips. “How do we even get there?”

Vincent’s gaze softened, a hint of approval in his eyes—as if he respected her quiet determination, her willingness to press forward despite the unknown. “It’s a long journey,” he replied, his voice low and calm. “We’ll need to reach Junon first. From there, we can find transport to get us closer.”

Aeris nodded thoughtfully, glancing down the streets of Kalm as if trying to picture the vast world that lay beyond. “Junon, then. It sounds like an adventure.”

A faint smile ghosted over Vincent’s face. “It will be. Cosmo Canyon is…unlike any place you’ve seen. It may have the answers you’re looking for.”

She searched his eyes, finding a rare gentleness there, a quiet reassurance that strengthened her resolve. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Then let’s do it. If the Planet is calling, I want to know why.”

Vincent inclined his head, a small gesture of agreement, as they turned and began walking down the street. She could feel his presence beside her, silent and steady, and though the road ahead was uncertain, whatever this journey brought, she knew she wouldn’t be facing it alone.

As they left the quiet safety of Kalm behind, Aeris allowed herself one last glance back at the town, her heart brimming with both gratitude and longing.

And something else.

"You are only a shadow."

Chapter Text

Aeris stood in a field of flowers. Golden sunlight spilled over the petals. A soft breeze rustled her long hair, and ahead of her, she saw a figure—a woman kneeling in the blooms, her back turned. Her long chestnut hair flowed over her shoulders in loose waves, and there was a quiet hum, a melody carried on the wind, sweet and soothing. Aeris felt herself moving toward her, her bare feet brushing against the soft grass with each step.

The woman turned.

Her face was achingly kind and beautiful, her green eyes filled with a gentle warmth that enveloped Aeris completely. The woman’s lips curved into a soft smile, but there was a sadness in her expression—a heaviness that made Aeris’ chest ache. Somehow, without being told, she knew the woman’s name: Ifalna.

The woman raised a hand, reaching toward Aeris, her fingertips almost close enough to touch. But the moment Aeris’ hand brushed hers, Ifalna disintegrated into a rain of petals.

The field was gone.

And suddenly, Aeris was small—a child, standing on a chair in a warm, sunlit kitchen. Laughter echoed around her, bright and genuine, as a pair of strong hands steadied her shoulders. She turned, and this time, it was Elmyra standing beside her. Her hands were warm and sure as they guided Aeris to balance, showing her how to stir a pot on the stove.

“Careful now,” Elmyra’s voice came, filled with motherly patience. “Not so fast, sweetie. You’ll spill it!”

Aeris giggled, her voice high and bright, and she glanced up at Elmyra’s face. There was so much love in her expression, so much pride. “There you go,” Elmyra said with a soft chuckle, brushing her fingers lightly through Aeris’ hair. “You’re a natural.”

The kitchen shifted, but the warmth stayed. Aeris found herself seated at a small table, a steaming bowl of stew in front of her. Elmyra sat beside her, her gentle hands brushing crumbs from her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Aeris felt the warmth of Elmyra’s kiss against her head and the gentle rhythm of her hand stroking her hair. Every movement was careful, loving, and for a moment, Aeris felt something so real and tangible it nearly brought tears to her eyes: safety. Belonging. Home.

“Don’t worry,” Elmyra whispered, her voice as soft as a lullaby. “It’s okay, my sweet girl. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Aeris’ chest swelled with emotion, her small fingers reaching out to grasp Elmyra’s hand, holding it tightly, as though she could stay in this moment forever. But then, the edges of the dream darkened.

The warmth of the room grew cold, the light dimming until the kitchen was bathed in shadows. The laughter faded, replaced by a low, rumbling chuckle that sent a shiver down Aeris’ spine.

“So warm, so loved…” came the voice, smooth and taunting, its words curling like smoke around her. “And yet, it’s not yours. None of it ever was. And none of it ever will be.”

Aeris turned sharply, her heart pounding, but there was no one there. Only the shadows, shifting and twisting as though alive.

“You don’t belong in this memory,” the voice continued, mocking now. “You don’t belong anywhere. You’re nothing but a shadow. A copy. A hollow imitation.”

The shadows writhed, consuming the space where Elmyra’s warmth had been. Aeris tried to reach out, to cling to the memory, but it was slipping away too fast. Her breath quickened, her chest aching with the unbearable weight of the voice’s words.

Then, the shadows shifted again, and for a fleeting moment, she saw his face. Sephiroth. His cold green eyes pierced through her, freezing her in place. His smirk widened, cruel and knowing. “How long will you keep pretending to be something you’re not?”

“No…” Aeris whispered, her voice trembling as she stumbled back. The kitchen was gone now, replaced by darkness, endless and suffocating. “No, stop.”

The voice laughed, low and merciless, unrelenting. “What are you, Aeris? A person? A memory? Or just a tool, waiting to break?”

A hand shot out from the darkness—sharp, black, and ghastly. It lunged toward her, and just as it was about to grasp her...

Aeris woke with a sharp gasp, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to steady her breath. Her skin felt clammy, damp with a cold sweat that clung to her like the lingering remnants of the nightmare. She blinked rapidly, her heart still racing as her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room.

It was unfamiliar at first—too quiet, too still. The faint outline of furniture emerged from the shadows as her vision sharpened. The heavy curtains at the window filtered the faint light of streetlamps and the moon, casting everything in a muted, bluish-gray hue. Slowly, recognition settled in: they were in an inn in Junon, having arrived late the previous night after an exhausting journey. Her body ached with fatigue, but her mind remained restless, unable to quiet.

She shifted slightly, the coarse fabric of the blanket rustling against her legs. The bed was too big, too empty. Across the room, Vincent’s silhouette was barely visible in the shadows, lying still on his own bed. They had agreed to sleep separately—her suggestion. She hadn’t wanted to disturb him, knowing full well that her nights were plagued by dreams and visions that often left her thrashing awake. He needed rest; he had carried so much of their burden already.

And yet, in the silence, the distance between them felt impossibly vast.

Aeris curled her fingers into the edge of the blanket, trying to ignore the hollow ache that crept into her chest. For the past nine months, since they had become a couple, they had always fallen asleep in each other’s arms. It had become their quiet ritual, a comforting constant in a world full of uncertainty. His presence beside her, the steady rhythm of his breathing, his warmth—these were the things that had made the nightmares bearable. The things that made her feel, even for a little while, that she was safe.

And now, without it, the emptiness felt raw and exposed. She missed the way he would hold her close, his arms draped protectively around her, as if shielding her from the visions that haunted her. She missed the way she could bury her face against him and let the world fall away, feeling like nothing could hurt her in those moments. Now, she could feel the space between them, not just the width of the room but the emptiness it seemed to stretch open inside her, leaving her with a lingering sense of aloneness she couldn’t quite shake.

She furrowed her brows, her gaze lowering to the rumpled blanket in her lap. It was her fault, wasn’t it? She had been the one to suggest separate beds, hoping it would help him sleep better. She had thought it was the right thing to do. But instead, all it had done was remind her of how isolated she felt, how much she longed for the comfort she had chosen to set aside.

Slowly, Aeris swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet brushing against the cool wood floor. The chill made her shiver, but she ignored it, rising gingerly to her feet. She moved toward the window, her steps careful and deliberate, as though the silence of the room might shatter if she moved too quickly.

Reaching the window, she pushed the curtain aside just slightly, revealing the streets of Junon below. The city was quiet now, its usual bustle muted to faint, distant murmurs. Streetlamps cast pale circles of light on the wet cobblestones, their glow broken only by the scattered reflections of the moonlight above. A fine mist clung to the air, remnants of the rainstorm that had passed while they slept.

Aeris leaned her weight against the windowsill, her fingers brushing lightly over the cold wood as her eyes wandered across the empty streets. Her thoughts drifted, unsettled and restless, like leaves caught in a quiet, unrelenting wind.

Over the past week, the visions had grown sharper, more vivid, more insistent. It felt as though Aeris’ memories were clawing their way to the surface, dragged upward by something she couldn’t quite name. The photos in Elmyra’s house—snapshots of a smiling child, carefree and radiant—had only intensified the ache.

She had stared at those photos, unable to look away from the bright, innocent face of a girl who had been so utterly, so fiercely loved. The girl in those pictures had a history, a family, a life steeped in belonging. They were fragments of a world that felt impossibly distant, a life that would never be hers. Proof of a bond she would never know. And now, in the echoing silence left by the dream, all she could feel was the aching hollowness of what she lacked—a void that stretched endlessly inside her.

Her fingertips grazed the windowsill, the wood cold beneath her touch, as her thoughts spiraled downward, drawn deeper into the quiet abyss of her being. She had never had a home. Never had a childhood. Never had parents. Her existence had been forged in sterility, devoid of warmth, of care—clinical, mechanical. She wasn’t someone’s daughter. She wasn’t even someone. She had been nothing more than an experiment, a vessel shaped by chemicals and curiosity, a fragile product of science. A project to be monitored, manipulated, and harvested for the Cetra DNA she had been made to carry.

A shadow. A copy. A clone.

Something less than human.

Discardable. Replaceable. Destroyable.

Her stomach clenched as the thought struck her like a physical blow: she had been born not for herself, but to become something else entirely. To become the “mother” of a new, "perfected Sephiroth", as Hojo had once called it.

But no. Not a mother. The word was a mockery, a lie wrapped in false hope. Not a mother who cradles new life in her arms, who watches over and loves a fragile being with her whole heart. Not like Ifalna. Not like Elmyra. She would never have been that. No, she had been destined to be something far crueler: a tool used to grow a monster within her. A vessel to carry it to term, to nurture something twisted and unnatural, only to have it torn from her the moment it was ready. No better than a rag doll whose womb determined her value. No—her very existence.

She hadn't been meant to give life. She had been meant to surrender it.

All for an experiment.

The thought made her breath hitch, her chest tightening as if a vice had clamped around her ribs. The despair that flooded her was cold and suffocating, a creeping numbness that crawled beneath her skin. It was the kind of despair that didn’t announce itself with loud sobs or screams. It was quieter, heavier, like drowning in an ocean with no end. Like falling into darkness with nothing to grab onto, no bottom to hit, no ground to steady her.

She took a few deep breaths and exhaled slowly.

Despite everything…she had survived, she reminded herself.

That thought flickered faintly in the back of her mind, like a distant light struggling to break through the fog. She had escaped. She was no longer in that dingy, soulless lab, no longer a tool under Professor Hojo’s control. She had been like a terrified mouse on the night she fled—small, helpless, scurrying through the shadows of Midgar with nothing but desperation driving her forward.

Until she crashed into Vincent.

The rest was history. Since then, she had grown. She was no longer a helpless, terrified child. She had grown into a woman. One who could love, and choose her own path.

For nine months now, she had fought to reclaim her life. And with Vincent by her side, she had learned what it meant to care for someone and be cared for in return.

She had built a life from the wreckage.

But tonight, as she stared out into the quiet streets of Junon, she couldn’t shake the doubts. The voices in her mind were growing louder, the shadows of the past creeping closer. No matter how much she wanted to bury them, she knew, with a terrible certainty, that she couldn’t pretend anymore.

The past wasn’t done with her. And she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to face it.

The sound of movement behind her drew her attention, and she turned slightly to see Vincent stirring. He sat up slowly, his crimson eyes met hers, heavy with exhaustion but sharp with awareness.

“You’re awake,” he said softly, his voice roughened by sleep.

Aeris nodded, turning back to the window. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, resting his forearms on his knees as he studied her. “Another dream?”

She hesitated, her fingers curling slightly against the windowsill. She nodded.

He didn’t press her for details, though she could feel his gaze lingering on her, steady and unyielding. He always seemed to know when she didn’t want to talk, and for that, she was grateful. But his silence also left her with the space to think, to feel, and tonight, that space felt too wide, too suffocating.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “It was nothing. Just…memories.”

Vincent tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “Memories?” he repeated softly.

“Not mine,” she added, her voice faltering. She glanced at him over her shoulder, her green eyes catching the faint light of the moon. “Hers.”

Vincent’s jaw tightened slightly, and she saw the faintest flicker of something in his gaze—sympathy, perhaps, or regret. He nodded once, leaning back against the wall, but he didn’t say anything.

She turned back to the window, her hands tightening their grip around the frame. Her reflection stared back at her in the glass, pale and tired, a faint shadow of the person she was trying so desperately to be.

“It’s nothing,” she repeated, though she knew that was a lie.

As the dawn crept closer, the weight in the room didn’t lift. Aeris remained by the window, staring out at the shifting shadows of the world beyond, while Vincent stayed where he was, silent and watchful.

The ache in her chest lingered, heavy and unrelenting, and for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t sure she could keep it all inside. But even so, she didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Not yet.

For now, she would carry it alone.

Chapter Text

The sea port at Junon teemed with activity, its open-air terminal brimming with people headed for distant shores. The hulking white cruise ship dominated the docks, a floating colossus of glinting steel and polished windows, casting long shadows over the scurrying travelers below. Luggage clattered, ship horns blared, and gulls cried overhead as the salty breeze carried the scent of the ocean and machinery mingled together.

Vincent and Aeris stood near the ticket counter, surrounded by a churning mass of humanity. Aeris shifted uneasily, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her satchel. The crowd’s energy felt oppressive, and her gaze kept darting toward the ship, a tantalizing goal just out of reach. Behind her, Vincent was still and composed, his crimson cloak pooling around his legs, the metallic glint of his claw catching the sunlight.

Ahead, a long line of travelers presented their identification to uniformed staff stationed at the ticket kiosks. After an exchange of documents, each traveler was handed their ticket and waved through to the boarding area. The process was seamless for most—until it was their turn. The ticket counter was little more than a scratched window and a rusted desk, manned by a bored clerk who barely glanced up as Vincent and Aeris approached.

Aeris stepped up to the counter, her voice calm but steady as she addressed the clerk.

“Two tickets to Costa del Sol, please,” she said, offering her a polite but purposeful smile, Gil in hand.

The clerk finally glanced at her and squinted, holding out her hand. “ID?” she asked, her tone flat.

Vincent reached into his cloak without hesitation, pulling out a small, battered card and sliding it across the counter. The clerk picked it up, examining it with a faint scowl before nodding. “Looks fine. And the lady?”

Aeris froze, her breath catching in her throat. She hadn’t even thought about ID—not until now. “I…I don’t have one,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with embarrassment.

The clerk gave her a long, unimpressed look. “No ID, no ticket,” she said flatly, already turning her attention to the next person in line.

Behind Aeris, Vincent’s presence loomed like a shadow, quiet but imposing, his gloved hand resting lightly on the counter.

“Wait.” he said, his voice cutting through the clerk’s dismissal like a blade. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady. “Is there another way?”

The clerk shrugged, clearly uninterested in helping. “Not unless she gets herself an ID. WRO policy. No exceptions. Now, step aside, you're holding things up!”

Aeris' breath hitched, but before she could speak again, Vincent shifted behind her, the subtle motion enough to draw the clerk’s wary gaze. Though he said nothing, the quiet intensity in his eyes sent a chill through the air. The clerk hesitated for the briefest of moments, her bluster faltering, but then quickly shook her head and waved them off again.

As they stepped away from the counter, Aeris lowered her gaze, her fingers brushing the edge of her sleeve. “I should have thought about this,” she murmured, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. “I didn’t even think to check…”

Vincent glanced at her, his crimson eyes softening slightly. “You couldn’t have known,” he said simply. His ID had been enough for him to navigate the fragmented systems of Midgar after Meteorfall, but Aeris’ situation was different. Her entire existence was a secret, her origins tied to a past that wasn’t her own.

Vincent guided Aeris away from the kiosk, his hand resting lightly on her back. Aeris cast a glance over her shoulder, her brow furrowed with worry as the line shuffled forward without them. They stopped near a pile of crates at the edge of the terminal, where the noise of the crowd was somewhat muted.

“This is my fault,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

“It’s not trouble,” Vincent replied, his voice steady. “We’ll handle it.”

Aeris exhaled a breath, feeling a pang of guilt and frustration in her stomach. And something else she couldn't quite identify.

“So...what now?” she asked softly, the nervous tension clear in her voice.

Vincent exhaled through his nose, scanning the busy port. “We’ll have to find another way.”

“Like what?” Aeris asked, looking up at him with curiosity.

Vincent turned to face her, his tone deliberate. “If we can’t board through the proper channels, then we’ll sneak aboard.”

Aeris’ eyes widened, and she stepped back. “Sneak aboard? Vincent, we can’t do that!”

He met her gaze with his usual calm. “It’s not ideal, but we don’t have much of a choice. Staying here isn’t an option.”

“But breaking the rules?” Aeris shook her head, her voice rising. “That’s not the answer. It’s dishonest. And what if we’re caught?”

Vincent’s expression softened, but his voice remained firm. “Sometimes, survival means breaking the rules. It’s not about what’s right or wrong—it’s about necessity.”

Aeris crossed her arms, stepping away from him. “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean we should just throw away our principles. I don’t want to act like that’s normal…like it’s okay,” she said firmly. 

Vincent sighed, the faintest hint of frustration flickering in his eyes. “Aeris, I’m not asking you to like it. I’m asking you to trust me.”

“I do trust you,” she replied, her voice softer now. “But trust doesn’t mean I’ll just agree with everything. There’s always another option—we just need to find it.”

“And if we can’t?” Vincent asked quietly, his tone sharper now. “What then? Would you rather we stay stranded here because we’re afraid to bend the rules?”

Aeris faltered, biting her lip. “I…I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “I just…I don’t want to lose myself by doing something that feels so wrong...”

They stood in tense silence for a moment, the sounds of the bustling port washing over them like distant waves. Vincent’s lips parted as if to say something else, but before he could speak, a voice rang out behind them, loud and lilting with a distinct Scottish accent.

“Vincent Valentine!”

Both of them turned toward the sound, their argument momentarily forgotten. At first, they didn’t see anyone out of the ordinary in the throng of travelers, until Aeris glanced down. Her eyes widened, and she tugged at Vincent’s sleeve.

“Vincent…” she whispered.

Standing just a few feet away was a small black-and-white cat, wearing a red cape and a tiny golden crown perched slightly askew on his head. His feline face was tilted upward, his mouth pulled into a wide, toothy grin that nearly split his face in half.

“Well, aren’t ye a sight fer sore eyes!” the cat declared, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and disbelief. His mouth curled even wider as he strutted forward, his movements exaggerated and theatrical. “What’s a dark an' broody lad like yerself doin’ 'ere, eh? Don’t tell me ye’ve gon’ an' taken up sightseein’!”

Vincent regarded him with his usual impassive stare. “Cait Sith.”

“Aye, it’s me!” Cait Sith chirped, his voice full of mock cheer. “The one and only. Thought ye’d ditched me fer good, but 'ere ye are, skulkin’ 'bout in Junon!”

Before Vincent could reply, Cait Sith’s gaze landed on Aeris. His toothy grin vanished instantly, his jaw dropping comically. He stumbled back a step, his head tilting sharply as if he couldn’t trust what he was seeing.

“Oh…oh, sweet merciful planet! Is it really…? It…it cannae be!”

Aeris stepped back, startled by his outburst. “What? What’s wrong?”

“‘What’s wrong’?! Ye’re supposed to be dead! ” Cait Sith blurted, pointing at her with one tiny paw. He took another step back, his tail flicking nervously. His mouth opened and closed a few times as if trying to form words. “What kind o’ madness is this? Ye’re no’ her…are ye?” His voice turned almost pleading, his usual bravado gone.

Aeris shook her head gently, her voice soft. “No. I’m not her.”

“But ye look like her, sound like her—” 

“Please,” Aeris cut in, her voice soft but steady. “I know this is confusing, but…I promise I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

The sincerity in her voice seemed to give Cait Sith pause, and he tilted his head, scrutinizing her. “If ye’re no’ her…then who—or what —are ye?” His mouth twisted into a frown when he turned to Vincent. “What’s goin’ on 'ere, Valentine?”

“It’s complicated,” Vincent said curtly. “This isn’t the place to explain.”

“Yer darn right it’s complicated!” Cait Sith snapped, his tone a mix of anger and confusion. “Ye’d better not be playin’ some sick joke!”

“I assure you, this is no joke,” Vincent said evenly. “We need help. Are you going to waste time questioning us, or can you point us to Reeve?”

Cait Sith hesitated, his tiny shoulders slumping. “Fine, fine,” he muttered. “But ye’ve go' a lot o' explainin’ to do.” He gestured for them to follow. “C'mon, then. Reeve’ll want to 'ear this.”

Without waiting for a reply, Cait Sith turned and began weaving through the crowd. Vincent and Aeris exchanged a glance before following him.

The cat led them through the bustling port and into a side street, where the noise of the crowd faded into the hum of machinery. They stopped outside a nondescript building marked with the insignia of the WRO.

“Reeve’ll sort this out,” Cait Sith muttered as he pawed at a keypad near the door. The lock clicked open, and he padded inside without waiting for them.

Aeris glanced up at Vincent, who gave her a brief nod. She followed close behind him, her heart pounding.

The interior of the building was a hive of activity, buzzing with purpose. Engineers bent over workbenches, their hands deep in the guts of half-assembled machines. Operatives in sleek uniforms hurried through hallways, tablets in hand, their faces grim with focus. Aeris caught glimpses of tactical maps glowing on large monitors, blueprints pinned to walls, and live feeds showing wild, untamed landscapes and stark cityscapes alike. Every corner of the building seemed alive with action.

For Aeris, it was a lot to take in. The efficiency, the focus—it was the kind of organized determination she associated with everything she had learned about the nature of ShinRa, but this felt different. Warmer, somehow. There was a sense of rebuilding, not just conquering. Even so, she stayed close to Vincent, her fingers brushing the edge of his cloak. His unreadable calm was her anchor amid the chaos.

Cait Sith, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his companions weren’t familiar with the building’s labyrinthine layout, scampered ahead. His tail flicked like a metronome as he turned a corner and disappeared.

“Wait—” Aeris started, quickening her pace, but Vincent’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“Let him go,” Vincent murmured. “He’ll come back.”

Before she could answer, a voice rang out from the doorway to their left, casual and cutting.

“Well, look who it is: Nosferatu and Hojo’s Frankenstein.”

Aeris turned sharply toward the voice. Leaning lazily against the edge of a console was Reno, his trademark smirk firmly in place. His suit was slightly rumpled, as if he hadn't even taken it off in several days. Beside him, Rude stood with his usual stoic calm, arms crossed and eyes hidden behind reflective sunglasses.

Aeris froze, a cold knot tightening in her chest. She recognized them—not just vaguely, but vividly, their faces etched into the deepest corners of her memory. They had been there that night. The night when Hojo, with a voice as clinical as it was cruel, unraveled the truth of her existence. A clone, not the real Aeris . The words had shattered her, and Reno and Rude had stood there, silent witnesses to the moment her world fell apart.

Reno pushed himself upright and crossed his arms, his smirk widening. “You two here to save the day, or wreck it? Guess it’s a toss-up with you lot.”

Vincent’s crimson eyes narrowed, his voice cold and deliberate. “Still trading wit for usefulness, I see. But if you’re looking for wreckage, you seem to manage plenty of that without us.”

Reno chuckled, low and amused. “Relax, Valentine. Not everything’s about you, alright? Shocking, I know.” He gestured vaguely toward Aeris with a flick of his hand, his smirk taking on a sharper edge. “We’re not here for you, or your little science project. We’ve got our own problems.”

Aeris stiffened, her breath catching in her throat. She stepped forward without thinking, her green eyes flashing as she met Reno’s gaze. “Is that what you think I am?” she said, her voice sharp and steady, like the edge of a blade. “A science project? ”

Reno’s smirk faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly, shrugging with an air of forced indifference. “Hey, don’t take it personally, Princess. If anything, we’ve all got Hojo’s greasy fingerprints on us somewhere.” He shot a quick glance at Vincent, the smirk returning. “Some of us more than others.”

Vincent’s voice dropped an octave, his tone dangerously soft. “Be very careful with your words, Reno.”

The tension in the hallway thickened, sharp as a drawn blade, until Rude finally cleared his throat. “Reno,” he said simply. His voice was quiet, but there was a firmness to it that brooked no argument. “Not the time.”

Reno threw up his hands in mock surrender, the smirk still lingering but less certain now. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave.” He cast a quick grin at Aeris, the kind of grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t let it get to you, alright? You’re walking, talking, and not trying to kill us, so you’re already doing better than most of Hojo’s leftovers.”

Aeris hesitated, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “You don’t know what he did to me,” she said, her voice quieter now, but no less sharp. There was a weight to her words that hung in the air, heavy and unshakable.

For a moment, Reno said nothing. His smirk faded completely, replaced by something more subdued. He looked away, his voice softening. “No,” he said, almost to himself. “I don’t. But I’ve seen enough.” He hesitated, then muttered under his breath, “We all have.”

Vincent glanced at Aeris, his expression unreadable but his tone calmer. “And we’ve all paid for it,” he said quietly. His gaze shifted back to Reno. “Some of us are still paying.”

Reno held Vincent’s gaze for a moment, his jaw tightening, before breaking the tension with a huff. “Alright, fine. No more history lessons.” He glanced at Rude, tilting his head toward the hallway. “Let’s just get on with it before this turns into group therapy. You coming, or what?”

Rude gave a silent nod, stepping away from the wall.

As Reno turned to leave, he tossed one last comment over his shoulder. “Try not to blow anything up while we’re gone, Valentine. That’s our job.”

Vincent watched them disappear down the hallway, muttering under his breath, “I’ll try to restrain myself.”

Before Aeris could say anything, Cait Sith reappeared, bounding around the corner with an impatient flick of his tail. “Don’t just stand 'ere!” he called, his mechanical voice cutting through the tension. “Ye’ll get lost if ye dawdle. C’mon now.”

Aeris let out a slow breath, shaking off the lingering unease from the encounter. Vincent’s shoulders were tense, and his silence was heavier than usual, though his expression betrayed nothing.

They followed Cait Sith down another winding corridor, until they finally stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. The placard beside it read Director Reeve Tuesti . Cait Sith pushed the door open without knocking, glancing back at them with a sly grin.

“Brace yerselves,” he said. “He’s not the easiest man to shock, but this might jest do it.”

Aeris swallowed hard as they stepped inside.

The office was spacious but cluttered, filled with the remnants of someone who rarely had time to tidy up. Stacks of papers and blueprints covered the large desk, and model replicas of WRO machinery stood on nearby shelves, half-forgotten among books and photographs. A coffee-stained mug sat abandoned on one corner of the desk. Behind the desk, Reeve Tuesti sat hunched over a glowing terminal, his sharp, intelligent eyes scanning the screen as his hands moved deftly across the keyboard. His slightly disheveled hair was streaked with silver. The dark shadow of stubble along his chin, and the slightly dark circles underneath his eyes suggested that he hadn't seen a full night's sleep in days.

“Reeve,” Cait Sith announced, hopping onto the desk with a surprising lack of grace. “We’ve got visitors.”

Reeve barely glanced up at first. “Can this wait, Cait? I’m in the middle of—” His voice trailed off when his gaze landed on Vincent. Surprise flickered briefly across his face, followed by cautious curiosity. “Vincent. It’s been a while.”

Vincent gave a small nod. “Reeve.”

Then Reeve’s gaze shifted to Aeris. He froze, his hands hovering over the keyboard as his dark eyes widened. His mouth parted slightly, and he rose slowly from his chair, his disbelief palpable.

“Aeris?” His voice was barely a whisper, as if saying her name too loudly might make her vanish.

Aeris felt herself shrink under his gaze, guilt and confusion welling up inside her. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. She wasn’t Aeris. Not the Aeris he remembered. And yet here she stood, wearing the same face, same eyes, holding the same name.

“She’s not who you think she is,” Vincent said firmly, breaking the heavy silence.

Reeve blinked, as if snapping out of a daze. His brow furrowed, and he gestured for them to sit in the chairs across from his desk. “You’d better explain,” he said, his voice steadier now but still laced with unease.

Vincent nodded, but before he began, Reeve’s attention returned to Aeris. He leaned forward slightly, studying her face with quiet intensity. “You…look exactly like her,” he said, his voice softer now. “But...something’s different.” He hesitated, his tone turning careful, almost wary. “Are you…?”

“I’m not her,” Aeris said quietly, her voice trembling just slightly. “I know I look like her, and I have her name, but…I’m not the Aeris you knew.”

Reeve leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly as he ran a hand down his face. “This is…surreal.” His eyes flicked back to Vincent. “Where did you find her?”

“It’s a long story,” Vincent replied.

Reeve gestured to the cluttered desk. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Vincent’s gaze turned distant, his expression unreadable as he began recounting the story. His words were steady, deliberate, and devoid of unnecessary emotion, offering Reeve only the essential details. He explained how Aeris had escaped from a facility in Midgar, the horrific truth of her origins as a clone created by Professor Hojo after Meteorfall, and the purpose Hojo had imbued in her. He spoke of the fragmented memories she carried, echoes of a life that didn’t belong to her, and the strange visions and voices she claimed to hear—what she believed to be the Planet speaking to her (but he left out anything related to Sephiroth). Finally, he mentioned their journey, their plan to head to Cosmo Canyon for answers, and how their progress had been halted by the lack of identification needed to pass through the checkpoint west of Junon.

Aeris watched Reeve’s face as Vincent spoke. Reeve listened without interruption, his face a carefully maintained mask, though his sharp eyes betrayed his inner unease. When Vincent finished, silence lingered in the room, heavy and oppressive, like the weight of the truth that had just been laid bare.

Reeve exhaled deeply and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment before rubbing his temples. “I’ve dealt with my share of strange things, Vincent, but this…” He shook his head. “A clone of Aeris Gainsborough . Created after she died. Hojo’s legacy never ceases to haunt us, does it?” he murmured, though his tone was more resigned than bitter. His gaze shifted to Aeris, softening slightly. “And yet, here you are. Alive. Free. That, at least, is something.”

Reeve’s eyes lingered on her, filled with a mix of pity, curiosity, and something unspoken—perhaps a sliver of hope he was afraid to acknowledge. He glanced back at Vincent. “And you trust her?”

“With my life,” Vincent said without hesitation.

Reeve tilted his head, studying Vincent carefully. “That’s not something you say lightly.”

“I don’t,” Vincent replied simply.

Reeve sat in silence for a long moment, his hands steepled in front of him as he weighed the situation. Finally, he let out another long sigh and nodded. “Alright. I’ll help you get to Costa del Sol. I can have Cait Sith arrange for the necessary documentation and get you on that ship.” He hesitated, his expression turning more guarded. “But I’ll be honest, Vincent. This…situation is complicated. If word gets out about her existence, it could stir up trouble.”

“I understand,” Vincent said.

Reeve leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the desk. “Aeris, you don’t exist. Not on paper, anyway. No records, no history, nothing. That’s the problem we need to fix.” He paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. “But…the name 'Aeris' itself doesn’t have to be.”

Aeris frowned. “It doesn’t?”

“No,” Reeve said, meeting her gaze. “ShinRa kept the northern crater incident under wraps. Outside of a handful of people, no one would connect your name to…to what happened back then.” His voice softened briefly. “You can keep it.”

“So, she keeps her name,” Vincent interjected, calm and direct.

Reeve nodded. “Yes. But the issue isn’t the name—it’s building the identity around it. If someone checks the system and finds no supporting records, it’ll raise questions.”

“And you’re the one who can prevent that,” Vincent said.

Reeve exhaled, leaning forward. “I can. Birth certificate, residency history, whatever you need—I can fabricate it all. But we’ll need to ground it in something plausible. For starters, she’ll need a surname.”

“She already has one,” Vincent said without hesitation. “Valentine.”

Reeve blinked. “Valentine?”

“Yes,” Vincent replied, his tone steady. “She’s my wife. That’s her name.”

Aeris straightened slightly in her chair, her calm demeanor mirroring Vincent’s. “It’s true. I’m Aeris Valentine.”

Reeve’s eyebrows lifted, surprise flickering across his face. He leaned back, studying them both with renewed interest. “Your…wife,” he repeated slowly. A faint smile tugged at his lips. “You never fail to surprise me, Valentine.”

Vincent remained silent, his expression unreadable.

“Well, would ye look at that!” Cait Sith piped up, his mechanical form perking up on Reeve’s desk. “The broody lad’s gon' an' settled down! Never thought I’d see the day—”

“Cait,” Reeve interrupted, raising a hand sharply to silence him without even looking. His other hand reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, though a trace of amusement flickered across his face. The robotic cat fell silent with an exaggerated shrug, as though thoroughly misunderstood.

Reeve tapped his fingers against the desk, his mind already working through the logistics. “That actually simplifies things. Linking her identity to you gives her an instant backstory—one that’ll stand up to scrutiny. It’s a good choice.”

“And no one will question it?” Aeris asked.

“Not if I do my job properly,” Reeve replied, his tone tinged with confidence. “I’ll create the ID, the travel papers, and a believable history. Officially, you’ll be Aeris Valentine—born in a remote region, recently married, traveling west with your husband. It’s simple, clean, and realistic.”

He paused, glancing between them before continuing. “But I’ll need some documentation for the ID—something that confirms your status as a couple. A marriage certificate would do.”

Aeris' heart sank. She glanced at Vincent, noting the subtle hardening of his expression. Arms crossed, crimson eyes narrowed, he leaned back slightly in his chair.

“We don’t have one,” Vincent said flatly.

Reeve arched an eyebrow. “You’re not…legally married?”

The question wasn’t accusatory, but Aeris still felt a faint flush of unease. Their private bond, suddenly laid bare, felt oddly vulnerable under scrutiny.

“No certificate,” Vincent confirmed, his tone unyielding.

Reeve sighed, leaning forward again. “Alright. No certificate, no official record. That makes this trickier—but not impossible. I’ve worked around worse.” His voice softened slightly. “After Meteor, plenty of people have had to rebuild their lives on paper. Entire towns gone, families displaced—it’s not unheard of to start fresh. But I’ll need to tread carefully.”

“What do you need to make it work?” Vincent asked.

“A plausible backstory,” Reeve said. “I’ll fabricate a birth record and residency history—say Aeris was born in an isolated region where ShinRa’s reach didn’t extend. That’ll explain the lack of prior documentation. But tying her name to you without a marriage certificate…that’s the sticking point.”

Aeris frowned. “Can’t we just…say we’re married?”

Reeve’s lips quirked in a faint smirk. “Not officially. Normally, a certificate is what justifies a legal name change. Without one, listing her as Aeris Valentine might attract attention.”

The word ‘her’ stung more than it should have. Aeris felt herself shrink slightly, like a shadow on the edge of the conversation. They were talking about her, circling around her, as though she weren’t sitting right there. She suddenly felt small—reduced to a name on a fabricated document. 

Aeris glanced at Vincent, her hand brushing the ring again. “But we are married,” she said firmly, holding up her hand as proof.

Reeve’s gaze shifted to the ring. For a moment, the calculating edge in his eyes softened, replaced by something more contemplative. He leaned back, exhaling slowly. “I see,” he said quietly. “Not a formal ceremony, then.”

“No,” Vincent said evenly. “But it’s real.”

Reeve regarded them for a long moment, his fingers steepled in thought. Then, with a slow nod, he relented. “Alright. If you’re asking me to bend the rules, I’ll bend them. Bureaucracy doesn’t matter as much as it used to, anyway.”

Relief flickered across Aeris’ face, but it was fleeting, swallowed almost immediately by a deeper unease. She felt as though her marriage—something sacred, something real—was being picked apart, its validity questioned, as though it were nothing more than an oversight to be corrected. It was as if the bond she shared with Vincent, the quiet promises they had made to one another, wasn’t enough. The thought made her feel exposed, vulnerable, like her love had been stripped down to something sterile and procedural, subject to scrutiny. She lowered her hand, fingers brushing her ring as if to reassure herself that what they had wasn’t diminished by any of this.

Reeve straightened in his chair, his focus shifting back to the task at hand. “I’ll make it work,” he said firmly. “I’ll file it as a declaration—plenty of couples skip the formalities these days. But…” He allowed himself a faint smile. “You might want to make it official later. It’s cleaner, if nothing else.”

Aeris returned the smile with a faint one of her own. “Thank you.”

Reeve nodded and swiveled his chair toward the cluttered console on his desk. He tapped the keyboard a few times, then gestured toward Cait Sith, who had been perched quietly on the edge of the desk, observing the exchange with uncharacteristic patience.

“Cait, enter the data,” Reeve said briskly. “Make sure it’s filed correctly.”

“Aye aye, boss!” Cait Sith chirped, springing to life. He hopped up onto the desk with surprising grace for something so mechanical, his small frame darting over the keys with speed and precision. “Dinnae worry, I’ve got this! Gimme two shakes of a moogle’s pompom, and I’ll have it sorted.”

Reeve sighed faintly but let him work, muttering, “Don’t break the console this time.”

The hum of machinery filled the room as Cait Sith typed furiously, the sound almost distracting in the charged silence that lingered between Aeris and Vincent.

Reeve glanced up again, his sharp eyes focusing on Aeris. “Now, let’s get this finished.” He motioned toward a small backdrop at the edge of the room. “I’ll need a photo for the ID. Aeris, step over here, please.”

Already adjusting the camera, he glanced back at them one last time. “Once that’s done, you’ll sign the paperwork, and I’ll have your new identity ready to go.”

Aeris stood, her legs feeling oddly shaky, though she knew it wasn’t the photo itself making her uneasy. As she stepped toward the backdrop, her gaze flicked briefly back to Vincent. He remained seated, his crimson eyes watchful but unreadable as he leaned back slightly in his chair, arms resting across his chest.

She stood in front of the backdrop, smoothing her hair self-consciously, then stood still as the camera clicked, the flash feeling brighter than it should have been. Reeve nodded and returned to his desk, pulling the form from the printer.

“You can sign here.” He slid the forms across the desk, tapping the line marked with an X.

Aeris sat down again, the pen feeling heavier in her hand than it should have. The blank line before her seemed impossibly vast, as though writing her name would solidify something she wasn’t entirely sure she could claim. After a brief pause, she pressed the pen to the paper and wrote carefully, each letter slow and deliberate: Aeris Valentine.

Her chest tightened as she finished, her gaze flicking briefly to Vincent. He hadn’t moved, but his eyes tracked her movements, sharp and unwavering, as though he were searching for something in her that she couldn’t name.

Reeve retrieved the form with a nod, his hands moving efficiently as Cait Sith handed him the last of the data files with an exaggerated flourish. “Done and dusted!” Cait Sith said cheerfully, hopping back to his usual perch on the edge of the desk. “Ye’re officially legit, lassie.”

The hum of the printer filled the room, mechanical and unfeeling, yet impossibly loud in the charged silence. Within minutes, Reeve was holding the finished card between his fingers. He examined it briefly, then handed it to Aeris with a small smile.

“Congratulations,” he said, his tone warm but practical, as though this were just another task to complete. “You’re now officially Aeris Valentine.”

Aeris took the card slowly, her fingers brushing over the smooth surface as she brought it closer. Her name and face stared back at her, clear and undeniable, but the sight of it struck something deep inside her. The weight in her chest shifted—not lifting, but changing, becoming a strange, conflicted knot of emotions she couldn’t fully untangle. Pride flickered faintly at the edges of her mind, but it was overshadowed by something heavier: unease, doubt, and the quiet, persistent thought that this name, this identity, still felt like it belonged to someone else.

“What are you, Aeris? A person? A memory? Or just a tool, waiting to break?”

Cait Sith let out a low whistle. “Well, don’t that just make it cozy? Aeris Valentine, eh? Has a nice ring to it, lass.”

Aeris smiled faintly but didn’t respond. Instead, she turned to Reeve. “Thank you. I know this is a lot to ask, but…I’m grateful.”

Reeve waved a hand dismissively, though his expression softened slightly. “Don’t thank me yet. This is bending the rules, and I don’t take that lightly. If anyone finds out I forged these records, it could undermine everything the WRO is working for.” He looked between them, his tone turning serious. “So, I’m trusting you both to stay out of trouble.”

“You have my word,” Vincent said.

Reeve’s sharp eyes lingered on him for a moment, then shifted back to Aeris. “But I have to ask—are you certain there won’t be any…complications with this ID?”

Aeris frowned faintly, tilting her head. “Complications?” she echoed, her voice cautious.

Reeve hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. He exhaled, clearly aware of the sensitivity of his question, but pressed on regardless. “I mean no offense, of course. It’s just…” His gaze settled on Aeris, searching, as if hoping she’d understand what he was trying to say without him needing to spell it out. “Given your…unique origins, I have to consider every possibility. This is Hojo’s work we’re dealing with, and his reputation speaks for itself. I don’t mean to alarm you, but there’s always a chance he may have engineered some kind of failsafe. A contingency plan. Something designed to maintain control—or worse.”

Reeve’s words landed like a blow, sharp and immediate. For a moment, she couldn’t speak, the weight of what he’d said pressing down on her like a physical force. Suddenly, there it was—a sharp ache in her chest, blooming like an old wound ripped open. Her breath caught as she froze, her hand instinctively brushing over the spot where the pain flared, just below her collarbone. It wasn’t real—not anymore, not in any physical sense—but the phantom pain still struck when she least expected it. A grim reminder of the night Hojo had tried to destroy her, when he’d lashed out with monstrous claws, slashing her across the chest, leaving her gasping and bleeding out on the cold, sterile floor.

She had survived. She had healed. But the memory of it was branded into her body, and sometimes it visited her like an unwelcome ghost, lingering in her chest as a dull, aching reminder of what she had endured.

Failsafe. Contingency plan. Reeve’s words repeated in her mind like the tolling of a bell. Aeris’ stomach churned as the memories came rushing back. The implant in her brain. The one Hojo had used to track her down after she escaped. She had barely been free long enough to breathe before he’d found her again, and the terror of being dragged back to his lab was something she could never forget.

Her gaze flickered briefly to Vincent, who stood as still and unreadable as a statue. But she knew. She knew the weight those words carried for him too. She had seen him writhing in pain, coughing and spewing blood. Pale and trembling with a consuming fever. On the verge of death whenever Hojo remotely activated the implant he had buried deep in his brain—a failsafe designed to weaken him, control him, and, if necessary, kill him. Reeve’s speculation had unknowingly struck a nerve, one far closer to home than he could have imagined.

Vincent stiffened, his voice dropping to a cold, razor-sharp edge. “Control.”

Reeve either didn’t notice the shift or chose to ignore it, pressing on with the same steady pragmatism. “Yes. That was his obsession, wasn’t it? Never leaving anything to chance. It’s worth thinking about—just in case.”

Vincent’s eyes narrowed, his words cutting through the air like steel. “You think she’s a weapon? That his shadow still controls her?”

Reeve raised his hands in a gesture of conciliation, his voice placating but firm. “That’s not what I’m saying. But Hojo’s work was…unpredictable. We don’t know the full extent of—”

Vincent stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. “We know enough. She’s not his experiment anymore. She’s not a machine. She’s a person.”

Before the tension could boil over, Aeris reached out, her hand resting lightly on Vincent’s arm. “Vincent,” she said softly, her tone soothing, “it’s okay. He’s only trying to help.”

Vincent’s glare didn’t waver, but as his gaze shifted to her, something in him softened. Even so, his words remained hard as he spoke again, still looking at Reeve. “He has no right to speak about you like that.”

Reeve exhaled slowly, his discomfort visible, though he kept his voice calm. “I apologize. That wasn’t my intention. I just…wanted you to be prepared. For the possibility.”

Vincent turned away abruptly, his movements sharp, his voice tight with suppressed anger. “There’s nothing to prepare for. Hojo is dead. His work is gone.”

Reeve took a small step back, hands still raised, his expression uncertain. “Of course. I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise. I only thought—”

“Don’t.” Vincent’s voice sliced through the room, final and unyielding. Without another word, he turned and strode toward the door, his crimson cloak flaring behind him like a shadow in his wake.

Reeve let out a quiet breath, his expression conflicted, as Aeris lingered for a moment. She turned back to Reeve, her green eyes filled with a quiet sadness, mingled with something almost apologetic.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “He’s just…It’s been a long road.”

Reeve nodded, his gaze kind. “I understand,” he said gently, reaching for a blank piece of paper on his desk. He grabbed a pen and began writing swiftly, his movements sharp but precise. “And for what it’s worth,” he added as he worked, “I meant what I said—this isn’t about doubt. It’s about being prepared. The world isn’t kind to those of us trying to rebuild, let alone people like you.”

Aeris said nothing, but her chest tightened at the implication.

Reeve finished writing, stamped the bottom of the page with the WRO insignia, and handed it to her. The paper was crisp, the ink still drying.

“I don’t keep ferry tickets on hand,” he said with a faint smile, “but this voucher should get you through. The ferry operators in Junon know to accept WRO authorization. Show them this, and you shouldn’t have any issues.”

Aeris hesitated before taking the paper, her fingers brushing against the edges as though she might smudge it. It felt strangely official, despite the hastiness with which it had been written. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Reeve sat back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap as he regarded her with a softer expression. “Take care of yourselves,” he said, his tone quiet but sincere. “Both of you.”

Aeris gave him a faint, grateful smile, tucking the voucher into her bag. But the heaviness in her chest didn’t lift. Instead, it seemed to settle deeper, her thoughts swirling as she turned toward the door. She hesitated for a moment longer, as though trying to find the right words, but they didn’t come. So instead, she simply nodded and stepped out into the hallway after Vincent, leaving Reeve alone with the quiet hum of the machinery in his office.

The cool afternoon air met them as they stepped outside, carrying the scent of saltwater and machinery on the breeze. Aeris let out a quiet breath, her arms crossing loosely over her chest as they began walking toward the ferry dock. The streets of Junon were still bustling, bathed in the golden light of late afternoon. Sunlight glinted off wet cobblestones, and the steady hum of voices and machinery filled the air, an ever-present undercurrent of life and movement.

Vincent walked ahead of her, his strides purposeful, his figure cutting an imposing silhouette in the bright light. His crimson cloak shifted in the breeze, and though he said nothing, Aeris didn’t need words to understand what he was feeling. His posture was stiff, his shoulders taut, and his head slightly bowed. He was bracing himself—against the memory of Reeve’s words, against his own anger, and perhaps against something deeper. She wondered if he even fully knew what.

She followed in silence, her footsteps light, her eyes drifting to the cobblestones beneath her feet. The tension between them was palpable, unspoken but heavy, like a cord stretched too tightly between them. She didn’t want to break it. Not yet.

Her thoughts drifted, circling back to Reeve’s office, to the quiet ache that had settled in her chest since they’d walked out. Her fingers brushed over the voucher in her bag, where the forged ID rested beneath the sheet of paper. Aeris Valentine. The name was hers—printed, real, official—and yet it felt strangely hollow. As though it belonged to someone else entirely.

Her thumb brushed absently over her ring. It had always been enough before. They didn’t need anyone else to validate it. Their commitment was real, no matter what anyone said. She had meant her vows to him. She believed in them. But standing there in Reeve’s office, holding up her ring like some kind of shield, she’d felt something she hadn’t expected.

Invisible.

Her fingers tightened over the edge of her cloak, pulling it closer as they walked. She loved Vincent—deeply, fiercely. She would never question that. But in the quiet moments like this, when her thoughts had the space to wander, the doubt crept in like a whisper, soft but insistent. Was secrecy still enough? Or was it starting to feel like…less? Like hiding?

“How long will you keep pretending to be something you’re not?”

Her pace slowed slightly as the thought lingered, growing heavier with every step. The ID felt heavier in her bag now, too. Is this enough? she wondered silently, the words circling her mind like a slow, unrelenting tide. Or do I want the world to see what I see?

But the answer wasn’t as simple as she wished it could be.

Ahead of her, Vincent stopped at the base of the boarding ramp, turning briefly to glance back at her. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze—something she couldn’t quite name—that made her swallow back her thoughts. For now, they would wait.

They stepped aboard the ferry just as the final horn sounded, the massive ship beginning its slow crawl away from the dock. Aeris glanced back at the city of Junon, its skyline growing smaller as they moved into open water. The wind caught her hair, cool against her skin, but her chest still felt heavy with everything left unsaid.

Chapter Text

The ferry rocked gently against the waves, its steady hum blending with the whisper of the sea. The sun lingered low in the sky, casting a warm, honeyed glow that deepened into hues of amber and soft orange. The air on the sundeck was cool, the salty breeze tugging at her hair and the sun warmed her face, as Aeris leaned against the railing, watching the horizon. For a moment, she let herself be still, breathing in the vastness of the ocean and the faint scent of brine. The sea stretched endlessly before her, its vastness both calming and disquieting. The horizon blazed with vivid streaks of gold and amber, the sun still high enough to cast long reflections across the water. The brightness caught on the waves, their crests glittering like molten silver. Somewhere beyond it lay Costa del Sol, their next stop on this strange, winding journey. For now, though, there was only the ship, the sea, and the heavy silence that lingered after she’d left the cabin where she and Vincent were to stay the night.

Their cabin was small but functional: two narrow beds pressed against opposite walls, a bolted-down table tucked tightly beneath the small circular window that overlooked the ocean. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for one night.

Vincent had stepped inside without a word, brushing past her. His movements were measured and deliberate, every action quiet but purposeful. The faint scrape of his boots against the floorboards was the only sound in the stillness, a noise that seemed louder in the confined space. He sat on the edge of the left bed, his gaze distant as he methodically dismantled his gun. Piece by piece, he laid its parts on the small table. 

Aeris had tried to draw him into conversation—asking about Costa del Sol, how long the ferry ride would take, or even commenting on the weather—but Vincent’s answers had been brief, almost clipped. Ever since they left Junon, he had been like this—withdrawn, his silence heavier than usual—and Aeris wasn’t sure how to reach him. As though Reeve’s remarks in that office had followed him onto the ship like a shadow he couldn’t escape.

She had lingered by the door, hesitant, watching him as the tension in the air grew more tangible. After so many months together, she had come to understand him in ways she hadn’t expected. His silence spoke as much as his words, his body language revealing what his voice rarely did. The subtle tension in his shoulders, the way he moved without meeting her gaze—it was enough to tell her that he needed space. She knew the signs by now, the quiet rhythms of his demeanor, and she respected them. Finally, deciding it was better to give him the solitude he needed, she had told him she was going for a walk, and slipped out of the cabin, closing the door softly behind her.

And here she was, by herself—out at sea, between horizons. 

The ship itself was colossal—its gleaming white hull towering above the water, the paint unmarred by the scuffs of time. It bustled with life, its decks filled with the laughter and chatter of travelers escaping to Costa del Sol’s warm beaches and glittering nightlife. Couples strolled arm in arm, stopping by the railing to take photos of the sunset. Families lingered near the mid-deck, children chasing one another in breathless, laughing games. From below, the faint sound of karaoke drifted up—off-key singing accompanied by applause and laughter. Slot machines in the casino deck chimed like a symphony of chaos, punctuated by the cheers of lucky winners.

Aeris watched a couple further down the railing as they leaned against it, arms wrapped around each other, laughing and kissing, while a friend — or perhaps a stranger they’d asked — snapped a photo of them. Her gaze lingered longer than she intended, her smile faint but wistful. 

What must it be like to live so freely?  She wondered. To exist without the weight of the past pulling you down? No lab to haunt your dreams. No voices filling the quiet. No shadows creeping at the edges of your mind.

I wonder what their story is, she mused, watching them wander off, laughing. Maybe they’re on an escape from the brokenness of the world—but they look so carefree. So happy...

Sometimes, in moments like these, when the world grew still and she found herself alone with her thoughts, her mind wandered places she didn’t want it to go. Could she and Vincent ever live that way? Could people like them have something normal? It felt like a mirage—something you see far ahead but can never quite reach, no matter how fast you chase it.

Maybe, for them, normalcy could only ever be bought with secrecy. Maybe the price of “normal” was to live a clandestine existence in the shadows.

Always pretending.

Always hiding.

Always waiting for the fallout.

But from what? Or…who?

Her gaze dropped to her hands, fingers lightly gripping the edge of the railing. Reeve’s words echoed in her mind:

“The world isn’t kind to those of us trying to rebuild. Especially to people like you.”

"…People like you…”

Her fingers dug into the cold metal of the railing. An unwanted memory intruded—one she had tried so hard to bury. But here it surfaced again, vivid and sharp, etched into her mind.

The sight of Vincent, bloodied and broken, barely holding himself together after one of their worst battles. The worst night of her life. How he’d fought through the impossible—the odds stacked against them—carrying wounds that should have killed him. 

All for her.

She saw him then, just as clearly as if it were happening now—dragging himself forward, battered but unyielding. His crimson eyes burned with quiet, unspoken resolve. Whatever the consequences, he would not leave without her. Not if it broke him. Not if it buried him.

Not for himself. For her.

All of it for her.

A clone.
A construct.
A shadow of a girl who had once been loved by so many.

A girl made of borrowed pieces.
A dream wearing someone else’s face.

Her throat thickened, and she lowered her head, willing the memories away. But they clung to her like threads that wouldn’t break.

“Hojo’s legacy never ceases to haunt us, does it?”

The weight of those words hung between them still—an invisible burden she and Vincent carried together.

Hojo’s mark ran deeper than scars. It lived in them. It was in her blood, in the foundation of who she was. It lingered in Vincent’s body too, lurking just beneath his skin, seeping into his soul like poison. Chaos, ever waiting.

It tainted the choices they made, the quiet battles fought beneath the surface, and the heavy silence that sometimes followed. It clung to the edges of her mind like cobwebs she couldn’t sweep away.

That's the thing about ghosts.

They don’t care if you move forward.

They follow.

Every battle they fought, every risk they took, every brush with death—each one left its mark.

They bore those marks together, silently, like etchings into stone. Survival didn’t erase them. Breathing didn’t mean freedom. The fact that they still lived, still fought, didn’t wash away what had been done to them.

Some things can’t be undone. 

Some things stay.

Her gaze lifted to the endless horizon, the sun hanging low in the sky, its light a deepening amber that hinted at the slow approach of dusk. 

If survival wasn’t freedom, then what was?

But it wasn’t just the weight of the past that followed her. Something else had started to creep in. More insidious. More persistent.

His voice.

It had started with dreams. Then visions.

And now, his voice was so familiar, as though he’d lived in the edges of her mind this whole time, quietly waiting for a crack.

It wasn’t like the voices of the Planet. By now, she had learned to tell the difference. The voices of the Planet were more like a song—a hum drifting through her thoughts like an old melody, distant but steady.

Sephiroth’s voice wasn’t like that.

His voice had weight. It pressed on her. It slid under her skin, cold and silken, a thread that coiled tighter every time she heard it.

And she couldn’t tell Vincent. Not the full extent of it. 

If she did, what could he even do? What could anyone do?

Would it not just make him feel helpless?

No. She wouldn’t do that to him. She couldn’t.

Vincent already had enough weight to carry. Hojo’s legacy was branded into him as much as it was into her. She saw it in the small moments—the way his eyes lingered a little too long at the edge of a crowd, or the way his fingers flexed, as if testing for control. The control in his one unaltered hand. She knew better than anyone that even he didn’t fully trust himself.

Chaos lurked in his shadow.

So she kept it to herself. It was better this way.

She could endure it. She’d endured worse.

But every so often, in the quiet moments like these, with the ocean stretching out infinitely before her and no one to hear her thoughts, she wondered—

How long could she keep pretending?

The sundeck hummed with quiet energy, a softer kind of bustle that came as the day inched toward its close. Conversations overlapped in a gentle murmur, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter or the sharp squeal of children mid-chase. Footsteps echoed dully against the deck, slower and more languid than the sharp clatter of the morning rush. People drifted toward the railings or leaned back against sun-warmed benches, eyes half-lidded, soaking in the lingering warmth of the day. The golden light was softer now, richer, as if it had been poured through a jar of honey. It slid across the metal railings in thin streaks of molten amber and danced on the water below, every ripple catching fire for a heartbeat before fading back to blue.

The air smelled of salt and sea spray, sharp and cool, but still touched with the faintest hint of warmth from sunlit wood. Shadows stretched long and thin across the deck, bending at odd angles as the sun sank lower behind them. A man reclined in a chair, his hat pulled low over his eyes, hands folded on his chest in quiet surrender to the slow, creeping drowsiness of the hour. A child darted past him, her giggles rising like birdsong before she vanished around the corner of the ship.

Near the edge of the deck, a small group gathered at the railing, voices lifting in playful chatter. One of them held up a camera, gesturing for someone nearby—a friend, perhaps, or a kind stranger—to take a photo. The volunteer obliged, lifting the camera and framing the shot as the group pressed in close, arms draped over each other’s shoulders, grinning wide as if they could bottle up the whole moment in one flash of light.

Aeris stood apart from it all, letting the wind carry the sounds of revelry away. 

She smiled faintly at the sight of two children chasing each other, their laughter bright and untethered. One tripped and tumbled into the other, both of them dissolving into delighted giggles. Their laughter echoed in the air, high and sharp, tumbling over itself like a song that didn’t know where to end. Her smile lingered, but a glance toward the sun sent a sharp spear of light into her eyes, bright and dazzling.

She blinked, lifting her hand to shield her face, but the brightness didn’t fade.

Instead, it intensified—a searing glow that swallowed the world whole. The sound of the children’s laughter didn’t break. It stretched, bending like a thread pulled too tight, its pitch rising and shifting. The delighted giggles blurred into something higher, purer—no longer two voices, but one. It rang out, clear as a bell, and the sharpness of it sent a shiver down Aeris’ spine.

The deck and railing dissolved beneath her fingers, replaced by warmth and the soft scent of wildflowers.

She was no longer on the ship.

The air shimmered like a mirage, and when it cleared, she stood in a field bathed in golden light. Tall grass swayed lazily in the wind, wild and unkempt, its edges glowing amber in the sun’s glow. The air smelled faintly of flowers—sweet, delicate, and fleeting. The sun hung low in the sky, casting the world in hues of orange, gold, and soft green. Everything around her hummed with a stillness too perfect to be real.

A burst of laughter shattered that stillness—high and pure, like the soft chime of a bell.

Aeris turned toward the sound, her breath catching in her throat. A small figure darted through the grass—a child, maybe three or four, her dark hair catching the light as she ran. The girl’s movements were quick, fleeting, like a firefly's glow in the dusk. Her laughter rang out again, bright and free, and it struck something deep in Aeris’ chest—a thread pulling taut, a sharp ache she didn’t recognize but somehow understood.

She tried to follow, to move forward, but her legs felt heavy, like they weren’t her own.

The girl slowed. She glanced over her shoulder.

Aeris froze as the child turned fully toward her, her small face lit with an unshakable, radiant joy. Her eyes crinkled as she grinned—wide, toothy, and unguarded. It was so warm, so familiar, it made Aeris' chest ache.

The girl didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

Instead, she ran forward and grabbed Aeris’ hand. Her tiny fingers curled around Aeris’ thumb, soft, warm, and steady. She tugged gently, urging her forward with a firm insistence that Aeris couldn't resist. Her heart jolted, as though something inside her had been struck—something too big for words. Her breath caught as she stumbled forward, her grip firming around the child's hand like she was afraid to lose her.

Her hand was so warm. So real.

Her legs finally moved, her body leaning forward without thinking. Her fingers squeezed the child’s hand on instinct—not to lead, but to hold. She took a step. Another.

Her heart pulled tighter, the thread straining in her chest.

There was something about this moment, this feeling. It wasn’t just a dream. It couldn’t be. It felt too vivid, too sharp, too real. The warmth of the child’s hand. The sound of her laughter. The sunlit glow on her face. It filled her with something she didn’t have a name for. Not longing, nor comfort…but something quieter, deeper. The kind of ache that felt as if it had always been there, unnoticed until now.

The golden light around them began to flicker. The field trembled at the edges, like old film burning at the reel. Aeris’ breath hitched. She held tighter to the child’s hand, but it was already slipping away. The world blurred—the wild grass, the sunlit glow, and the child’s beaming smile fracturing into shards of light. A burst of laughter echoed again, sweet and whole, but it grew faint as if the wind carried it away. It lingered, though, like the echo of a bell that keeps ringing long after it stops. It followed her, even as the wild grass unraveled into threads of gold and white. 

"No—" The word barely left her lips before it all vanished.

The warmth dissolved into cold air, the hum of wildflowers replaced by the sharp, steady thrum of the ship's engine. She blinked rapidly, her breath sharp and uneven, like she'd surfaced too quickly from deep water. She pressed a hand to her chest, as if to calm the ache inside.

The ship returned to her in fragments—the ocean stretching before her, vast and untouchable. The salty wind bit at her skin. The distant laughter of children drifted through the air, high and bright—too bright. She dropped her gaze to her hands. They were empty. Her fingers twitched, as if still expecting the warmth of that tiny hand. The warmth that still lingered, faint but present — as if it had settled beneath her skin. But it wasn’t there. It never had been.

What was that?

A dream? A vision?

A memory?

Her lips parted, barely a breath of sound escaping. “…but whose?”

The question hovered there, unanswered. A weight she didn’t quite know how to carry. There were too many questions, and too few answers.

Somewhere behind her, a burst of laughter echoed—a group of children chasing each other down the deck, their giggles ringing like bells. Her eyes moved toward them, her gaze distant, as if she half-expected to see the girl again. But she didn’t.

The crowd on the sundeck had grown louder, busier. The voices overlapped, laughter bursting like sharp cracks of glass. The air felt heavier. More people gathered at the railings, pointing at the sunset. One of the children darted past her, giggling. It suddenly felt like too much. 

Too much noise. Too much movement. Too much of everything. 

Her breath wavered as she pushed herself away from the railing. She brushed her hands down the front of her dress, grounding herself in the simple, familiar movement.

No use chasing after something you can’t hold on to, she thought. Not now.

Her eyes lingered on the horizon for one last moment before she turned toward the inner deck and walked away.

She wandered the ferry’s deck, guided by the hum of voices and the soft clinking of glasses. The steady churn of the ocean filled the spaces between sounds, a constant, unyielding rhythm that left her restless. She wasn’t looking for company. She wasn’t even sure what she was looking for. Her feet moved on instinct alone—driven by curiosity, or maybe just the need to outrun her own thoughts. To leave behind, if only for a little while, the weight she could never quite put down.

The buzz of conversation spilled from an open doorway up ahead, brighter and louder than the quiet murmur of the deck. As she passed, sharper voices cut through the noise—raised just enough to carry.

“I’m just sayin',” a familiar, drawling voice declared, thick with irritation, “I didn’t mean anything by it. You’re the one making a big deal outta nothing.”

“You didn’t mean anything by it? ” a woman shot back, her tone sharp and indignant. “You called her a science project! And Hojo’s Frankenstein. Do you ever think before you open your mouth?”

Her breath caught, and she froze in the doorway, her heart sinking as recognition settled in. It was Reno.

Peering into the room, she spotted him lounging at a small table in the corner, one arm slung lazily over the back of his chair. Rude sat beside him, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Across from them sat a blonde woman—a stranger to Aeris—who was glaring daggers at Reno.

“Relax, Elena,” Reno replied with a dramatic roll of his eyes, clearly unrepentant. “I’m not wrong, am I? It’s not like she doesn’t know what she is.”

Elena leaned forward, jabbing a finger toward him. “That doesn’t mean you get to be a jerk about it! She’s a person, Reno. And you—”

Rude cleared his throat, cutting her off with a subtle glance toward the doorway. Reno followed his gaze, and his turquoise eyes locked onto Aeris.

“Well, speak of the devil,” Reno said, his voice losing its earlier sharpness. He straightened slightly in his chair, his cocky grin faltering for a split second before sliding back into place. “Looks like we’ve got an audience.”

Elena turned to look, her frown softening as her gaze landed on Aeris. She blinked, tilting her head slightly as though trying to place her. “Oh,” she said, her tone shifting to something more curious. “Hey…you look familiar.”

Aeris hesitated in the doorway, every instinct screaming at her to walk away. But Elena’s words rooted her to the spot, her green eyes narrowing slightly as the blonde woman studied her more closely.

“You remind me of…” Elena trailed off, her brow furrowing. Then her eyes widened slightly, and she snapped her fingers. “That flower girl! From back in the day! The Ancient. Aeris, right? Yeah. You look just like her.”

Rude’s expression darkened, and Reno groaned, slumping back in his chair. “Elena,” he muttered, his tone a quiet warning.

“What?” the blonde asked, glancing between them. “It’s true! She looks exactly like her. Like, she’s practically her copy —”

Elena froze mid-sentence, all of the color draining from her face as she realized the weight of her own words. Her eyes darted toward Reno and Rude, their silence confirming what she’d just pieced together. “Oh,” she murmured, looking back at Aeris with growing discomfort and shame. “So, you’re…you’re the clone?”

Reno sighed, slumping further into his chair. “There it is. Took you long enough.”

“Reno!” Elena snapped, shooting him a glare. Then, turning to Aeris, her tone softened. “I’m so sorry! Just ignore him, he’s always a jerk.”

“Great, now I’m the bad guy,” Reno muttered, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Thanks for that.”

“You don’t need my help to be the bad guy, Reno,” Elena shot back, crossing her arms.

Reno scoffed but didn’t argue.

Aeris’ lips parted slightly, but she didn’t know what to say. The weight of their words—clone, science project, Frankenstein—still clung to her, and she couldn’t quite push past it.

“Look,” Reno said, his voice softer than before, though his usual sharpness was still there. “I didn’t mean anything by it, okay? I’m just sayin’, learn to live with it. You’re good.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, avoiding her gaze.

Elena gave him a sidelong glance but didn’t comment.

“What he means,” Rude spoke up, his voice quieter but steady, “is that it’s not about where you came from. It’s about what you choose to be now. Your friend Vincent”—he hesitated, choosing his words carefully—“obviously doesn’t care about the rest. So…maybe you shouldn’t either.”

Aeris blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected sincerity in his tone. She looked down, her hands gripping the edges of her cape. “I’ll…keep that in mind,” she said quietly.

She looked at the three of them, her chest aching as a mix of emotions churned within her—frustration, hurt, but also the faintest flicker of something close to relief. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice steady now. “But I think I’ve had enough for one day.”

She turned and walked away before anyone could stop her, her footsteps brisk and purposeful as she headed for the sundeck.

“Nice going, Reno,” Elena muttered, shaking her head.

“What?” Reno asked, his smirk returning as he leaned back in his chair. “I apologized. Sort of.”

For a moment, the three of them sat in silence, the tension hanging in the humid air. Then Reno clapped his hands together, breaking the quiet. “Well, this has been fun, but we’ve got places to be. Right, team?”

Elena raised an eyebrow, her tone unimpressed. “We’re on a ship. Where exactly are we supposed to go?”

Reno grinned, pushing his chair back and stretching as he stood. “I dunno about you, but I’m gonna go find me a drink with my name on it.”

“Great plan,” Elena deadpanned, rolling her eyes as she followed.

Rude glanced briefly toward the doorway where Aeris had disappeared before standing to follow them, his expression thoughtful. Aeris’ words and presence lingered, but he said nothing.

The ferry moved through the waves with a steady rhythm, its low hum rising and falling like the ocean’s breath. The evening sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows that shifted over the water. A cool, salty breeze tugged at Aeris’ hair and brushed her skin. She tilted her face to the sun, letting its waning warmth settle over her. It was peaceful out here—the steady crash of waves beneath the faint creak of the ship’s metal frame.

For a moment, she let it all fall away—Reeve’s words, Vincent’s silence, the visions and voices that had haunted her dreams. She focused instead on the vastness of the ocean, on the way sunlight fractured across its surface like shards of gold and fire. But as the light flickered off the water, it stirred a half-formed image in her mind. A field bathed in gold. Wild grass swaying in the breeze. A girl running through it, her laughter as bright as birdsong. It was gone just as quickly, as though the light had played a trick on her. 

And yet, the feeling lingered. Faint but insistent, like the ache of a forgotten dream. No matter how she tried to focus on the sea ahead, her mind kept circling back to it—the warmth of the sun, the flash of dark hair, the sound of that laughter still ringing softly in her ears. It wasn’t hers. She was sure of that. It wasn’t her life, her laughter, her sunlit field. And yet, it stayed. Her chest ached with it, the kind of ache that lingers after a song fades, when the melody still hums quietly in the back of one’s mind. 

Her fingers pressed harder against the railing, her breath shallow and uneven. Was it…hers? she wondered, Is that what it was? One of her memories?

It felt too real to be anything else. Too vivid. Too whole. There was a weight to it — not like a dream, but like something that had happened. Something that had belonged to someone. The way the girl moved, the brightness of her voice — it was all so clear, so alive.

Aeris didn’t know how long she’d been standing here. Minutes? Hours? Time felt strange lately—slippery and hard to hold onto. Much like herself.

She held onto the cold railing, her eyes closed as the breeze brushed her cheeks, cool and constant. The rhythmic crash of waves filled her ears, steady as a heartbeat, but it did little to ease the weight pressing against her chest. Her thoughts circled endlessly, looping back to the same questions, the same doubts—the same words that refused to let her rest.

The answers, however, hovered just beyond her reach, like whispers in a language she could never quite understand.

The horizon stretched endlessly before her, vast and unbroken, and she felt impossibly small against it—like a shadow fading into the enormity of the sea…

“You’re not seasick, are you?”

The voice cut through the quiet—smooth and low, sharp as the edge of a blade.

Aeris’ eyes flew open, her heart lurching as she turned sharply toward the sound. A man stood a few feet to her left, close enough to be noticed but far enough to stay just out of reach. She hadn’t heard him approach. How long had he been standing there? How long had he been observing her? He leaned against the railing with careless ease, his hands tucked neatly into the pockets of a dark coat. The fading light caught in his pale blond hair, the breeze stirring it in loose, weightless strands. His sharp, blue-gray eyes flicked to her, cool and cutting as shards of ice. He stirred something in her—a feeling like déjà vu, sharp but fleeting, slipping away before she could name it.

“They say this tub is supposed to be stable. But I’d hate to have been lied to.” His tone was as nonchalant as if he were commenting on the weather.

Aeris cast a wary glance his way, her hands still firm on the cold railing. “No, not seasick,” she replied slowly, measuring each word. “Just…thinking.”

“Dangerous pastime,” he replied with cool detachment, though there was a weight behind his words that undercut the humor. He shifted slightly, leaning further against the railing but keeping a deliberate distance between them, as though mindful not to encroach too closely. 

“You’re awfully quiet,” he added after a moment, his voice carrying a faint note of dry observation. “Most passengers are too busy planning their beach vacations to brood at the railing.” He glanced at her then, a flicker of curiosity in his pale eyes. “Let me guess—you’re not going to Costa del Sol for the drinks and sunshine?”

Aeris hesitated, feeling momentarily disarmed by this stranger’s question. His tone was light, almost playful, but there was something about him—something guarded and inscrutable—that made her watchful. “No, not really,” she said softly. “I guess I’ve got…other things on my mind.”

He inclined his head slightly, as if her response confirmed something he already suspected. The silence between them stretched, broken only by the faint rush of waves and the deep, resonant groan of the ship’s frame. She expected him to leave after that, but he stayed, his gaze drifting toward the horizon.

“Strange, isn’t it?” he said after a moment, almost absently. “No matter how far you travel, you can’t escape what’s already in your head.”

Aeris turned back to the ocean, her fingers brushing idly over the cold railing. Her gaze lingered on the horizon, but her attention had shifted, pulled toward him in a way she didn’t fully understand. There was something about him—not his face, not his voice, but something quieter, something beneath all that. It tugged at the edge of her thoughts, like a half-forgotten dream just out of reach. The feeling was too faint to name, but it was there, persistent as the pull of the tide. Before she knew it, the words were already forming on her tongue, unbidden and unplanned.

“Do you ever feel like…” she trailed off, fingers lightly tracing the cold metal of the railing.

He glanced at her, curious but silent. Waiting.

“…like you’re living a life that’s not truly yours?”

He tilted his head slightly, considering her words. “That depends on what you mean by ‘yours.’”

Her eyes drifted to the waves, her brow furrowing faintly. "Like…like it’s something borrowed,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Someone else’s story you’re stuck inside. And no matter what you do, it slips away—like a dream you can’t hold onto.”

“... An imitation of a life that was never yours... ”

"If it’s a dream," he said slowly, his eyes on the horizon, "you might as well take control of it before it takes control of you." His eyes flicked back to her, sharp as glass. "And if you waste time wondering whose dream it is, it’ll be gone before you figure it out."

Her gaze shifted back to the water, her brow knitting with quiet unease. His answer lingered in her mind longer than it should have, threading itself into thoughts she hadn’t meant to entertain. There was something about it—about him —that left a faint, unsteady feeling beneath her ribs, like the tilt of the ship beneath her feet.

“I keep hoping the next horizon will feel different,” she said, more to herself than to him.

He smirked faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “The eternal optimist,” he said, his tone lightly sardonic. “And here I thought I’d left those behind a long time ago.”

She turned to him, smiling faintly despite herself. “Maybe you just stopped looking.”

His smirk widened slightly, but the humor in it was brittle, almost hollow. “Maybe,” he murmured, though his tone carried a faint edge of disbelief. He turned his attention back to the horizon, his expression unreadable.

“And what happens,” he said quietly, his voice dropping, “if the next horizon is just more of the same? If no matter how far you go, you’re still…lost?”

Her breath faltered, catching for half a second before she forced it steady. The words hit far closer to home than she liked to admit. She looked down at her hands, her fingers curling tightly around the railing. “Then you keep going,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “Until something feels different.”

He let out a soft, humorless laugh. "Hope's a cruel thing. It keeps you moving forward, but it never promises to give you anything.”

Aeris frowned, glancing at him. His expression was calm, but there was a hollowness in his gaze, as though he were speaking from experience. She wanted to ask what he meant, but the question caught in her throat. Instead, she turned back to the ocean, letting the silence settle again. The sun was low, streaking the waves with molten gold. Her thoughts drifted.

“I feel like…” she said quietly, not even sure why she was speaking aloud. “Like, wherever I turn, someone’s telling me they know me. Or they’re telling me I don’t exist.”

Her voice was soft, distant.

The man beside her stilled. Not in a way anyone else would notice—but she noticed. The shift was barely a heartbeat. His jaw tensed, a flicker of movement along the edge of his cheekbone. His gaze flicked to her, studying her face more intently than before. He didn’t respond right away, but when he did, his voice had lost its earlier detachment. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, quieter now, as though testing the weight of each word.

Her lips pressed together, and she shook her head quickly. “Forget it,” she muttered. “It’s nothing.”

He watched her for a moment longer, his gaze steady but far too sharp now—like he’d found something unexpected and wasn’t sure what to do with it. Slowly, he turned back to the horizon. The air around him had shifted—still calm, but no longer distant. His words, when they finally came, felt less like an observation and more like a quiet confession.

“It’s a strange thing, isn’t it?” he murmured. “To not exist. To feel like you’re standing still while the world moves on without you.”

She glanced at him, startled by his sudden change in tone. The words settled over her like a weight, pressing against the knot in her chest. Her breath caught, shallow and uneven, like she’d forgotten how to breathe right. She looked away, her voice quiet as she said, “I don’t want to feel like that. I just want to know who I am.”

“And what if the answer you find doesn’t make you happy?” he asked, his voice calm but unrelenting. “What if you don’t like who you are?”

The question struck her like a blow, sharp and sudden, and she flinched. Her grip on the railing tightened, fingers curling so hard the metal bit into her palms. Her breath stuttered as something heavy lodged in her chest—hot, aching pressure that refused to move. She didn’t know how to answer him. Didn’t even know if she could.

She turned away, eyes drawn back to the sea, where the setting sun fractured across the water in wild, glittering shards. The weight of his words pressed against her throat, thick and unyielding, as if they'd settled there with no intention of leaving. She swallowed hard, but it didn’t help.

Then, suddenly it happened.

A slow, quiet shift in her mind—like a puzzle piece sliding into place. Her eyes widened, her breath catching as the realization struck her. 

Her gaze snapped back to him, heart pounding in her chest. He was already watching her. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, it felt like he was waiting for this exact second to arrive. She saw it in his face: recognition. His eyes lingered on hers, sharp and deliberate, like he was committing every inch of her face to memory. She knew now where she’d seen him. Yes, she was certain! 

His eyes held hers, steady and unmoving, until slowly—so slowly it felt deliberate—his gaze drifted past her, settling on something over her shoulder.

And then, his lips curved into a smile. It wasn’t one of joy or amusement, though. But rather of…acknowledgement. A silent message exchanged without a single word.

“Your bodyguard’s watching you,” he remarked lightly, tilting his head toward the space behind her. 

She blinked, confused by the remark. “My what?” Her head turned on instinct, following his gaze.

Then she saw him. 

Vincent. 

He stood at a distance, still as stone, watching them from the far end of the deck. His gaze was steady, fixed on her like a tether, his face as stoic as ever.

Her eyes darted back to the man beside her. He was already watching her again, his blue-gray gaze locked onto hers with unnerving focus. The man straightened then, his hands still tucked in his coat pockets, his expression calm but his eyes keen. He didn’t speak right away, like he was weighing a decision only he understood.

Then, with measured intent, he gave a small nod.

“Take care…Aeris,” he said softly.

His coat caught faintly in the breeze as, without another word, he walked away. He didn’t look back.

Aeris watched from where she stood, her hands still clutching the railing, as he walked in Vincent’s direction, and stopped in front of him. They were out of earshot, but she saw them exchange a few brief words. Vincent stood still, impassive, until the man nodded faintly and continued down the deck, disappearing into the shadows.

Vincent approached her, his steps slow and deliberate, each one as measured as his gaze.

Aeris was still processing what had just happened, her mind turning over every word of that conversation.

“Was that…?” she asked, her voice quieter now, unease threading through each syllable. But she already knew the answer.

“Rufus ShinRa,” Vincent said with quiet certainty.

Her breath caught, slow and quiet, lingering in her chest. Her eyes dropped to the worn deck beneath her feet, the weight of the name pressing into her with a familiar, unyielding ache. Her fingers found a loose thread on her sleeve, tugging at it absently, and her thoughts moved in slow, heavy circles, always returning to the same quiet realization she couldn’t quite name.

That was Rufus ShinRa.

The name echoed in her mind, each repetition heavier than the last.

Rufus ShinRa.

She knew that name. Of course she did. Everyone did. It was a name once synonymous with power, with control. It loomed large over people like her—people who lived beneath it. Unseen. Unnoticed.

Her gaze lowered as she walked, her pace slow and unhurried, each step in rhythm with the low thrum of the ship's engines.

"It’s a strange thing, isn’t it? To not exist. To feel like you’re standing still while the world moves on without you."

Her brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing faintly as she turned the words over in her mind. Why had he said that? He hadn’t spoken it like an observation. He’d spoken it like a truth. A truth he’d already made peace with. And maybe that was the part that unsettled her most.

She hadn’t realized it then—not while they were talking. But now it felt so obvious. That sharp-eyed man in the coat. Deliberate in every word, precise like a clockmaker. He hadn’t wasted a single breath.

Rufus ShinRa.

Once, a man with an empire at his feet. Once. But not anymore. The empire had crumbled beneath him, and if the world still spoke his name, it wasn’t with fear or awe. It was as a relic. A ghost of a man who was supposed to be dead. A man the world had left behind, buried and forgotten.

Her steps slowed, and she glanced down at her hands, turning them over slowly as if seeing them for the first time.

"It’s a strange thing, isn’t it? To not exist. To feel like you’re standing still while the world moves on without you."

He had survived. He was still here. He still breathed, still moved, still existed. But was he still Rufus ShinRa? Did that name still belong to him?

Her fingers brushed the brass band on her ring finger—a habit, unthinking but familiar. Her gaze dropped to it.

"And what if the answer you find doesn’t make you happy? What if you don’t like who you are?"

Her breath caught, her mind circling the words like a bird unable to land. They followed her from the deck, stubborn as shadows. No matter how many times she tried to push them aside, they remained.

Of course, she recognized him. She should have seen it sooner. She should have realized. She remembered now. That night. One of the faces from that night. Rufus had been there, watching as the scene unfolded.

Her chest still ached at the memory.

The flickering, sterile lights of Hojo’s laboratory. Cold concrete. The stench of disinfectant and rusted metal, sharp enough to taste.

The place where everything she thought she knew had been torn apart. Where she learned the brutal truth of who she was.

"...You are an image, my dear. I created you. I breathed life into your body..."

Her steps slowed to a stop.

"'Aeris' isn't even your name! You HAVE no name!!"

She could still hear him. Hojo’s voice, sharp as broken glass, lodging itself into her mind like splinters.

"You are a hollow piece of cellular garbage I constructed for an experiment!! That's not your face! That's not your body! That's not your life! It all belongs to another person!!"

Her jaw tightened, her lips pressing into a thin line as she walked faster. The sounds of the ship’s engine and the faint crash of waves against the hull filled her ears, but they weren’t loud enough to drown him out.

Reeve’s words from earlier that day still clung to her like damp, heavy fabric.

“Aeris, you don’t exist.”

Even with the new papers, even with her new name, the unease had never left her.

Aeris Valentine.

She’d signed it herself, hadn’t she? Written it with her own hand. Reeve had handed her the pen. She’d pressed it to the paper, formed each letter slowly, deliberately. And yet, the moment it was done, it had felt less like a name she’d claimed and more like a name she’d borrowed.

Her fingers brushed the ring on her finger again.

“...This is Hojo’s work we’re dealing with, and his reputation speaks for itself..."

"...Given your…unique origins, I have to consider every possibility….”

Her heart thudded in her chest, steady but heavy. The creak of the ship’s boards beneath her feet was barely noticeable anymore. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been walking. The world around her felt distant, like she was moving through a fog where only her thoughts were sharp.

"It’s a strange thing, isn’t it? To not exist."

Her steps faltered. She stood still for a moment, the weight of the words settling over her like a blanket of mist. Her gaze lifted, unfocused, to the far end of the hall where a dim lantern swung gently with the sway of the ship.

Her hands dropped to her sides, limp now. Her fingers didn’t curl this time.

Rufus ShinRa.

Once a man who had commanded armies, had shaped the world from atop his throne. The kind of man the world was forced to look at, forced to acknowledge, even if they hated him for it.

But now? The world had left him behind.

Unseen. Unnoticed.

Her gaze dropped to her hands once more. Is that how I see myself?

The thought struck her so suddenly, she nearly flinched. She stared at her hands, turning them over, studying them as if they might belong to someone else. As if they might not belong to anyone at all.

Unseen. Unnoticed.

Her mind drifted back to Reeve’s office.

The way he’d spoken about her as if she weren’t there. As if she were just…a problem to be solved. A form to be signed. A document to be created.

Her lips pressed together, her steps slowing again. She shut her eyes briefly as she inhaled. The salt of the sea filled her lungs, sharp and clean.

The world hadn’t left her behind. She was the one hiding from it.

She opened her eyes. The light from the lantern swung gently, spilling long shadows across the corridor.

Her gaze lingered on the shadow she cast ahead of her, always just out of reach.
No matter how far she walked, it stayed just beyond her fingertips.

“It’s a strange thing, isn’t it?” Rufus’ voice echoed faintly in her mind, quieter now, like a whisper.

“To not exist.”

Chapter Text

The steady hum of the ferry’s engines thrummed through the walls, a low, constant vibration that settled into the bones of the cabin. Outside, the faint sound of waves lapping against the hull mingled with the occasional groan of shifting metal as the boat pushed forward through the darkened sea. Overhead, a dim spotlight cast a soft, uneven glow, pooling pale light onto the small room’s close, wooden walls. Shadows stretched long and thin with every subtle sway of the ship, the motion slow but unrelenting. The air felt close, carrying the faint tang of salt, mingled with a hint of bleach and the lingering softness of laundry detergent from the freshly laundered bedding.

Aeris sat on the narrow bed, leaning against the wall, knees drawn up against her chest, while her arms rested lightly on her lap. The rhythm of the ferry should have been soothing—but it wasn’t. Her thoughts churned like the water outside, restless and unrelenting. She had tried to focus on the sound of the waves, on the low groan of the ship’s shifting frame, but none of it could quiet the gnawing feeling in her chest. A loose thread on her sleeve had caught her attention instead, and her fingers worried at it absently, twisting and pulling until it frayed further.

Vincent sat across from her on the opposite bed, his back straight, both his hand and claw resting motionless on his lap. His gaze was fixed on the small, circular window, though it seemed as if he wasn’t truly looking at it. His posture was still, perfectly composed—but Aeris knew better. She could feel the tension radiating from him, the unspoken weight carried in the set of his shoulders. It was the kind of tension she’d come to recognize over time—the heaviness of thoughts he kept locked away, words he never spoke.

Even with only a few feet between them, he felt distant. The quiet of the cabin seemed to stretch into something vast and unbridgeable. The silence had settled hours ago—broken only by a few hollow exchanges—and Aeris couldn’t take it anymore.

The day’s events churned inside her, too heavy to keep carrying. Her meeting with Reeve, and the things he had said in that office, still twisted uncomfortably in her mind. Then there were her encounters with Reno, and finally Rufus—their words sharp-edged and lingering in ways she couldn’t quite shake. It was all too much, pressing against her like an unbearable weight she could no longer ignore.

Her fingers stilled, curling into her palms as her eyes lifted to Vincent. For hours, the question had gnawed at her, its weight growing heavier with each passing moment. She took a breath, soft and shallow, and finally broke the silence.

“Vincent…can I ask you something?”

His head turned slightly, eyes shifting to meet hers. His gaze was steady, quiet, but there was a flicker of something in them—something cautious, as if he already sensed the weight of her question. “Of course,” he said evenly, his tone calm but guarded.

Aeris hesitated, lowering her gaze to her hands. The air felt heavier now, and her chest felt tighter as the words she’d been holding in for so long began to rise. It wasn’t that she feared his reaction—Vincent had never been unkind to her, never cold. But the question felt larger than her voice, as if it might take up all the air in the tiny cabin. “Do you ever wonder…why we kept it secret?” she asked softly, her voice wavering slightly. “Our marriage, I mean.”

Vincent’s brow furrowed faintly, but he didn’t answer immediately. His gaze lingered on her, unreadable, before he turned his head back toward the window. The muscle in his jaw tightened briefly, and his claw shifted on his knee, the finger blades curling slightly before relaxing again. It was a small movement, almost imperceptible, but it carried a weight that Aeris didn’t miss. Beneath his composed exterior, there was something tightly-wound—subtle but unmistakable.

“We agreed it was safer that way,” he said at last, his tone calm but distant.

Aeris nodded slowly, her fingers fidgeting with the loose thread again. “I know. It felt right at first. It really did. But…now, I’m not so sure.” She paused, her voice caught briefly in her throat, but she pushed through. “Is it still about being safe? Or are we just scared?”

Vincent’s eyes narrowed slightly, his posture straightening. “Scared of what?” His voice had an edge to it, but it wasn’t harsh.

Her gaze lifted to meet his, her tone quiet but insistent. “I don’t know. Maybe…of what people might say. Or what they might see.”

His jaw tightened, and he looked away again, his voice low and deliberate. “It’s not fear. It’s protection.” He glanced at her, his gaze steady but firm. “For you. For us.”

Aeris’ lips pressed together, and she shifted slightly as she sat on the bed, leaning forward. Her voice grew firmer. “Is it? Because sometimes, it feels like we’re hiding. And I’m tired of feeling like that.”

His head jerked toward her, his crimson gaze narrowing. “Hiding isn’t the same as protecting,” he said, his voice measured but heavy, carrying more weight than he likely intended.

His words landed with a force she hadn’t expected, tugging at something deep within her. She flinched, but she held her ground. Her breath steady as she leaned closer, deliberate and calm, her voice quiet but resolute. “But it feels the same to me.”

Vincent’s gaze hardened, his shoulders going rigid as though bracing himself. His hand curled into a fist on his knee, the leather of his glove creaking softly in the silence. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough, laden with something deeper—anger, perhaps? But more likely fear.

“Do you think I want this?” His gaze locked onto hers with such unyielding force it pinned her in place. “Do you think this is what I want for us?” His eyes bore into hers, unflinching, fierce with unspoken pain. “It has to be this way. Because we don’t have a choice.”

He hesitated, pressing his lips together. His breath came slower, heavier, like each word had to be pulled up from somewhere deep. His tone quieter now, more raw, like he hated having to spell it out. “You heard Reeve. The world finds out where you came from, and that's it. They’ll pick you apart, piece by piece. People like us? We don’t get left alone.” His gaze dropped briefly to the floor, shadowed by something darker—something that had been buried but never gone. “You’ve seen it. You know what they do.”

The words hit harder than he probably meant them to. Aeris inhaled slowly as the weight of it pressed on her chest. Her fingers fidgeted briefly at her side before she stilled them. But she didn’t look away.

“I know,” she said softly but firmly, her green eyes unwavering. “I know exactly what they do.” Her voice, though quiet, carried a force that filled the room like a distant rumble of thunder. “But I can’t spend my whole life running from the unknown. Living in fear of what might happen, the what-ifs, the shadows around every corner—I can’t do that, Vincent. That’s not living. That’s just…surviving.”

Her words hung in the air like something fragile. For a moment, it was as if the whole room was holding its breath.

Vincent leaned back slightly, as if her words had pressed too close against something raw within him. His posture was stiff, defensive, like he was building a wall between himself and whatever ache had risen to the surface. His gaze dropped briefly to the floor, the shadows of old regrets flickering across his face, before turning back to her with renewed intensity.

“You don’t understand, Aeris. You don’t know what it’s like,” he said, his voice strained and tight, like every word scraped against something too close to pain. “To lose someone you love because you were too weak to save them. To feel them slipping away right in front of you and know there’s nothing you can do to stop it.” His gaze locked onto hers, unflinching, his eyes dark with unspoken terror. “That helplessness…that failure…it doesn’t just go away. It stays with you.”

He turned his head away sharply, breaking the tension of the moment as though the words had cost him something. “And I can’t—” His voice faltered. He clenched his jaw, his claw curling tighter into his knee before he exhaled a slow, uneven breath. When he looked at her again, there was something new in his gaze—something vulnerable and desperate. “I can’t go through that again. Not with you. If something happened to you, Aeris, it…” He hesitated, his voice trailing off into silence, but the weight of what he couldn’t say hung heavy in the air: 'it would destroy me.'

Aeris’ breath faltered for a heartbeat as she listened, but she refused to shrink away from him. Her gaze held steady, unwavering beneath the weight of his words. Her voice, when it came, was quiet but firm. “That’s not fair,” she said, her tone sharp but controlled, the tremble in it barely noticeable. “You’re not weak, Vincent. You’ve never been weak.” Her hands clenched in her lap, her own emotions rising like a slow tide. She hesitated, her gaze searching his, as if trying to find the right words to bridge the distance between them. “And you think I don’t know what it’s like to feel like I'm about to lose everything?” She paused, her breath catching as she pushed past the ache rising in her chest. “Because you know I’ve been there. We’ve been there—together. I’ve watched you almost die. The pain of it—I can’t even describe it. And I can never forget it.” Her voice trembled briefly, but she steadied herself, her gaze locked on his. “And I can’t imagine reliving it again. But...we can’t keep letting the past blind us to what’s right in front of us. And this—this isn’t about what you’ve lost. It’s about what we’re losing right now — you and me.”

Her words landed like a spark against dry kindling, and Vincent’s shoulders stiffened at the impact. For a moment, his expression faltered—his eyes flashing with something vulnerable. Just as fast, it vanished behind clenched teeth. He broke her gaze, his words came sharp and curt, cutting through the tension like a blade.

“I am your husband and my decision is final.”

Silence. 

Aeris stared at him, her green eyes wide with disbelief; her lips parted as she tried to speak but no words came. A fragile mixture of shock and hurt were written across her expression, like something delicate had just cracked beneath the surface. Slowly, she drew back, the space between them widening as though she needed to shield herself from the sharpness of his words.

Vincent froze. The weight of his outburst crashing down on him the moment the silence settled. He knew, instantly, that he had crossed a line. His eyes flicked to her face, just briefly—and what he saw there made his breath catch. That look of pain, so raw and unguarded, struck him like a blade. Unable to face it, he turned his gaze away, clenching his jaw as though trying to hold himself together. His shoulders sagged under the weight of his regret, as shame clawed its way through his chest.

Stunned, for a moment, Aeris wasn’t sure if she had heard him correctly. Vincent, who had always treated her with respect, who had never once raised his voice or tried to control her—who had always been so measured and composed. This wasn’t him. Not really. She could see the regret etched into every line of his expression.

His breath shuddered, shallow and ragged, like it hurt to breathe all at once. He ran his hand over his face, his palm dragging down slowly, as if the weight of his own words had settled on him and refused to move. His gaze dropped to the floor like he couldn’t bear to meet her eyes. “Aeris, I…” he started, his voice hoarse and broken. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.” 

She didn’t answer at first, the heaviness of his words pressing against the ache in her chest. Her gaze lingered on his face, trying to find him again through the hurt that rippled beneath the surface. It stung, sharp and raw. But as she sat with it, the edges softened, giving way to something quieter. Understanding. Her fingers hovered hesitantly, unsure, before she let her hand rest lightly in her lap, the steadying weight grounding her as she held his gaze, unwavering. 

She exhaled through her nose, quiet but deliberate, and her gaze softened. “I know,” she said, her voice as calm as the sea before a storm. “It’s okay.”

He looked at her then, his expression filled with shame, but also a deep, aching gratitude for her calm, her patience. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say and remained mute. 

Silence stretched between them.

Finally, she broke it, her voice softening as she continued carefully. “You’re my husband, Vincent. And that’s the one thing in my life that feels real, that feels like it’s mine. But…” she paused, her words thick with meaning. “When no one knows, when it’s just us…sometimes it feels like it doesn’t exist outside of these walls. Like we don’t exist.”

His gaze lifted back to hers, his crimson eyes searching her face. “Aeris...that’s not true,” he said softly, his voice hesitant, almost uncertain.

She shook her head somewhat, her tone wavering. “Then why do I feel like we’re pretending? Like I’m pretending? You’ve always made me feel real, Vincent, but hiding this…it…it’s starting to make me question myself.”

Vincent’s expression softened, though the tension didn’t leave his shoulders. He turned to face her more fully, his voice low but steady. “I would never let anyone question what you are. You’re real. You’re everything.”

Aeris felt a faint smile tug at her lips, but it was touched with sadness. “Then why can’t we show it? Why can’t we let the world see what we are? Why can’t I let the world see me?”

His gaze dropped slightly, his voice heavy with emotion as he said, “The world hasn’t earned the right to know you. Not after what it’s done.”

Her heart ached at the quiet conviction in his words, the weight he carried even now. She shifted her position, sitting on the edge of the bed and reached out, resting her hand lightly on his. She exhaled quietly, her gaze steady but gentle as she studied him. “I know,” she said softly, her voice filled with quiet understanding. “I know you’re afraid of what could happen if people knew. And I understand why.” She paused, letting the weight of that admission settle between them. “You’ve seen the worst of people, and I know you’re just trying to protect me from that.”

Her eyes searched his face, her expression filled with quiet resolve. “But I’m not asking for the world to know every part of me. I’m not asking for a stage or a spotlight. I’m just asking for enough space to feel like I exist.” Her gaze flicked downward for a moment, her voice growing softer but no less firm. “I can’t live my whole life like I’m something that needs to be hidden. Not from the world. And not from myself.”

She lifted her eyes back to his, her fingers curling more firmly around his hand. “I know you’re doing this because you love me. But love isn’t just protection. It’s also trust. And I need you to trust that I’m strong enough to stand with you, not just behind you.”

She glanced down for a moment, her eyes following the curve of their joined hands, her thumb caressing his knuckles. “Because sometimes…I feel like I’m not even sure who I’m hiding from anymore. Maybe it’s the world. Maybe it’s myself,” she admitted softly, a flicker of pain crossing her face. Her fingers pressed against her lap as she continued, her voice growing stronger. “I'm still trying to believe I’m real, Vincent. I’m still trying to believe I’m not just...a shadow. And keeping this a secret—it feels like hiding something I should be proud of. Like hiding us.”

He didn’t speak.

His eyes stayed on their joined hands, unmoving, as if turning her words over piece by piece. The dim light brushed softly against his face, casting long shadows over the sharp angles of his features. Slowly, his gaze shifted — not his head, just his eyes — lifting from their hands to her face.

For a moment, he was so still it felt like he might never move again. No breath. No twitch of muscle. Just the quiet, watchful intensity of someone standing on the edge of something too deep to name.

Then, slowly, his fingers moved beneath hers — a small, deliberate curl of his hand. He didn’t grip her tightly, didn’t hold on like a man afraid to lose something. But he held her all the same.

And still, he said nothing.

For a moment, she hesitated, feeling a familiar sting behind her eyes as her thoughts returned to Reeve and all the things said between the three of them. Aeris took a shaky breath, her fingers gripping Vincent’s hand even firmer when she admitted, “When we sat in that office, and Reeve kept addressing me in the third person and kept talking to you instead of me, it felt like I was invisible, like I wasn’t even there,” she continued, her voice quivering despite her best efforts to stay composed. “The way he spoke about my identity, like it was something he had to ‘create’...like I didn’t already have one…it made me feel like I didn’t exist until he decided I was worthy of being seen.”

She exhaled slowly, her eyes glistening as she blinked away a tear, forcing herself not to let it fall. Her voice was quieter when she spoke again. “And it’s hard not to think about that. To feel like everything about me—about us—is something we hide. Something fragile. Something that could fall apart if anyone else looks at it for too long.”

Vincent’s expression softened as he considered her words. He could see the vulnerability behind her strength, the hurt she had tried so hard to conceal. He didn’t know how much of it had been building under the surface until now. His gaze lowered to their hands, his thumb brushing lightly against her knuckles in a slow, deliberate motion. 

“You think I’m ashamed,” he deduced, his voice barely above a whisper.

Aeris shook her head, her voice quiet but steady. “No. I think you’re afraid. Afraid of what people will see. Afraid of what they’ll say. I know, because I felt that way too, at first. But not anymore. We’ve fought so hard for this—everything we’ve built together, everything we have. I can’t let fear take that away from us.”

She paused, her gaze softening as it held his. “I’m tired of living in the shadows. I want to live. I want us to live. Out in the open, without this constant weight hanging over us.”

There was a long silence.

Vincent’s gaze didn’t leave hers, his eyes searching her face, as though trying to read between her words. Her honesty pressed against him, slow and unrelenting, stirring something deep in the quiet spaces he rarely let himself feel.

He held her gaze for a long moment, the silence filled with the faint hum of the ship and the sound of their breaths. His crimson eyes softened as they searched hers, but his shoulders were still rigid, as though holding onto something heavier than the room could contain.

Finally, his voice broke the silence, quieter now, filled with an edge of uncertainty. “You’re asking me to let go,” he murmured, as if trying to understand the full scope of what she was asking. “To let go of the weight I’ve carried—not just for us, but for everything.” His gaze dropped for a moment, the sharp blades of his claw shifting as they curled into a loose, reflective fist. “I’ve spent so much of my life protecting things—people, causes, truths. Keeping them at a distance, even when I didn’t have the right to,” he said, each word laden with years of solitude and pain. “And you…you’re the one thing I couldn’t afford to lose. I convinced myself that keeping us private, keeping you safe, was the only way.”

He exhaled slowly, the faintest tremor breaking through his steady tone. “But I didn’t think about what that might take from you.” 

Aeris’ chest ached as she listened, the quiet vulnerability in his voice stirring something deep and raw within her. Vincent, who was always so composed, so resolute—it was disarming to hear him so honestly admit his oversight, his unintentional hurt. It pierced her with a bittersweet ache, a mixture of sorrow for the pain they had both carried, and relief that he saw her so clearly now. She brushed her thumb over the cool metal of her wedding band, grounding herself as his words settled over her like a tangible weight.

The confession lingered between them, raw and unspoken, filling the silence with something heavy yet fragile. But Aeris, her heart aching for him, rose from where she sat on her bed to gently sit herself next to him on his. She placed her hand lightly over his, her touch tentative but steady.

Vincent’s expression softened, a tenderness creeping into his features as he looked at her, truly looking at her. Slowly, he turned his hand beneath hers, his fingers weaving through hers with deliberate care, holding her hand tight in his. His grip wasn’t forceful, but firm—steadfast, as though reassuring her.

“I’ll try,” he said, his voice hushed and filled with a vulnerability that surprised even him. “I’ll try to let go of this fear.”

She took a breath, the words forming carefully in her mind before she spoke. “I’m not asking you to let go of everything all at once,” she said gently, her voice warm. “I’m only asking you to take a step. Just one step. With me.”

His gaze lifted to hers, crimson eyes meeting her own green ones, and for a long moment, the quiet stretched between them. The faint hum of the ship’s engines filled the space around them, steady and rhythmic, a low vibration that seemed to echo in the stillness of the cabin. Now and then, a soft creak of metal or the distant rush of waves against the hull reminded them of the immensity of the ocean beyond these walls. Yet none of it touched the fragile stillness between them. 

His hesitation lingered; his inner conflict etched into the taut line of his jaw, the small shifts of his shoulders. But something eased in him, almost imperceptibly, and he gave a slow nod.

“One step,” he said at last, his voice low but steady.

Aeris let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her lips curving into the smallest of smiles. The tightness in her chest eased—not completely, not yet, but enough. Enough to keep breathing, to keep hoping. 

“That’s all I need,” she said softly, the quiet conviction in her voice steadying them both.

She leaned into him, and this time, Vincent didn’t pull away. His hand released hers only for a moment, just long enough for him to slip his arm behind her back, drawing her close. Aeris pulled her legs up on the bed so she knelt beside him. She pushed herself up and her arms encircled his neck, pulling him to her, and pressed her forehead lightly against his collarbone; the warmth of him steady and comforting. She took in his scent, warm and familiar: the worn leather of his holster, the weathered fabric of his cape, and the faint metallic tang of steel and brass. It was a subtle, constant presence, one she had come to associate with safety, with stability—and with home.

Vincent drew both arms around her, clasping her against his anxious heart. He rested his chin lightly on top of her head, kissing her there. The soft fabric of his cloak pressed against her cheek, and beneath it, she felt the faint, rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat. 

Vincent’s eyes remained closed, his brow faintly creased, like a man standing in the center of a storm with no clear direction. But slowly, he breathed in, his fingers curling more firmly against her back. Not with desperation, but with resolve. A slow, quiet resolve. 

Her voice came softly against him, her breath a gentle warmth against his collar. “You don’t have to protect me from the world,” she murmured. Her words were soft but deliberate, cutting through the heavy silence like a balm to the rawness of his pain. “You’ve carried enough for a lifetime, and you don’t have to keep doing it by yourself.” 

Her voice wavered slightly, the hint of emotion just beneath the surface, but there was no judgment in her tone, no anger. Only an aching tenderness, a love that refused to let him keep his walls so high.

His breath faltered, his jaw stiffening under the weight of her words as they slipped through the cracks in his defenses. He turned his head away slightly, staring at the floor, his ruby eyes shadowed with something indecipherable. He clenched his fists around her as he tried to will away the weight in his chest. But her words had struck something deep, something he couldn’t push down no matter how hard he tried.

Aeris loosened her arms around him and let go just enough to lean back so that she could look at him, only a few inches separating their faces. Her hand lingered at the back of his neck, her other moving gently to weave through his hair. Her voice softened, almost a whisper now. “I’m not trying to take anything from you, I just…” She hesitated, then pressed on, her words spilling from her heart. “I want to carry some of it with you. Isn’t that what marriage is supposed to be? It’s not about you being strong all the time, or about me being safe all the time—it’s about us being in this together. Even when it’s hard. Even when it’s terrifying.”

Her words hung there, raw and unpolished—heavy with love and conviction. An anchor thrown against the tide of fear he carried with him like a second skin.

Her eyes stayed fixed on him—steadfast, unyielding. For a moment, Vincent didn’t move. His face was partially turned away, the taut line of his jaw hiding any telltale expression, but his shoulders loosened just slightly, the tension bleeding out in small, imperceptible shifts. When he finally looked at her, his gaze was softer now, though still shadowed by guilt.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said quietly, his voice raw and thick, like every word scraped its way out of his chest.

“Maybe I don’t,” she admitted, her green eyes searching his. “But I know you. I know how much you’ve been through—how much you keep carrying, even now. And I love you for it. But Vincent…” Her voice caught for a moment, a flicker of emotion breaking through before she steadied herself again. “Loving you doesn’t mean I stand on the outside while you bear the weight of the world. It means standing beside you, no matter what it costs. No matter what it takes.”

The brooding man closed his eyes for a long moment, exhaling slowly. Her words slipped into the empty spaces inside him, finding places he’d long thought closed off. His body shifted slightly, his shoulders dipping as though he was finally releasing some part of the weight he carried. He let out a near inaudible sigh and shook his head, his voice gentler now, laced with something almost like apology.

“You deserve better than this life,” he murmured, with a quiet, aching sincerity.

A small, bittersweet smile touched her lips, and she leaned forward just slightly, her hands stroking his hair in a slow, tender motion. “Maybe,” she replied, her voice soft but certain. “But you’re the only one I want it with.”

He went still. Completely still. Almost like, for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. His gaze lifted slowly, uncertain of what he might find. His eyes traced her face, studying her like he was searching for cracks — for even the smallest reasons to doubt her. 

But she didn’t break.

His gloved hand rose to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing softly against her skin. Her eyes stayed on his, unwavering, as if this was the moment she’d been waiting for to find him again.

Slowly, he leaned closer, until his forehead pressed lightly against hers. He let himself be still with her—letting his fear bleed away in the silence between them. His breath caressed her cheek, soft and warm. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, neither of them moved. They just stayed there — still, but present.

Then, he tilted his head, and in the quiet between heartbeats, their lips met at last.

The world hushed, holding its breath, until it fell away completely. Stillness, in a world that never seemed to stop moving. Their lips moved slowly, soft and unhurried, with the patience of two people who had already learned to endure too much.

Her fingers slid into his hair, curling at the nape of his neck, anchoring them both. His gloved hand stayed firm against her cheek, steady and certain, while his claw pressed lightly against her back, holding her steady against him. Holding them both steady.

When they finally pulled back and their lips parted, it was slow and quiet, like the tide receding from the shore. Their foreheads stayed pressed together, eyes closed, their breaths intertwined like whispers in the small space between them. Her fingers remained tangled lightly in his hair, the touch as gentle as a lullaby.

He let out a slow breath, his shoulders dipping slightly, as if something inside him had finally been set down.

Neither of them moved. Neither said a word. They didn’t need to.

His arms drew her in, folding her softly against his chest, his real hand gently stroking her back. Her arms slipped around his neck again as she embraced him, burying her face in the hollow of his shoulder, the warmth of his skin seeping into her cheek. She planted a small kiss there.

They stayed like that for a while. 

Just breathing. Just being. Simply holding onto each other.

Outside the cabin’s small, round window, the darkness pressed against the glass, vast and unyielding, but not empty. Somewhere in the stillness of the night, beneath its weight, there was room for the faintest flicker of something—possibility.

Or maybe just the first step toward it.

The cabin was quiet, save for the faint groan of the ferry shifting over waves. The wood-paneled walls creaked softly, as though the ship itself shared in his restless thoughts. Outside the window, the night sky was a dark expanse, illumined only by the faint silver glow of the moon. The air in the cabin felt close, heavy—not from warmth, but from something else entirely. Something unspoken lingering between its walls.

Aeris lay beneath the blankets in her bed, fast asleep. Vincent sat on the narrow bed opposite her, his back resting against the wall, one leg drawn up toward his chest. The edge of his claw rested lightly on his knee, its sharp lines catching the faint glow from the window. His other foot tilted forward slightly, the tip of his boot touching the floor, a subtle point of contact that anchored him in the stillness of their shared space. His gaze lingered on the night beyond the glass, his eyes distant, as though searching for answers somewhere in the darkness. Shadows pooled around him, familiar and comforting, wrapping him in their quiet embrace.

Her words lingered, threading through the stillness like the soft hum of the ferry’s engine.

"I’m still trying to believe I’m real, Vincent."

The way she said it—it wasn’t accusation or anger. It was truth. Vulnerable, quiet truth. And it struck deeper than he wanted to admit.

His gloved hand flexed at his side, the leather creaking faintly as he curled and uncurled his fingers. He felt the weight of old guilt rise again, heavy and unrelenting, like the pull of a tide he couldn’t escape. He exhaled slowly, his breath cutting through the silence, and leaned back against the cabin wall.

She was asking for something he didn’t know how to give. Light, when all he’d ever known was shadow. To let the world see them. See her.

For so long, he had believed the world didn’t deserve her. And he still did. A world that had taken so much from her already—her autonomy, her past, her future—and left her with questions she might never answer. How could a world like that deserve to know her, to see her as she was, whole and real?

But what if that belief had been his excuse? What if, in shielding her, he had been hiding her instead?

His gaze drifted to his hand again, and the thought settled over him like the weight of a shroud. He had thought he was protecting her—protecting them both—from the questions, the stares, the judgments that people like them always drew. From a world that would pick her apart if it ever learned the truth of what she was. But it wasn’t just the world he feared, was it? It was the past, yes—the failures that haunted him still. But more than that, it was the future. It was the knowledge that, for all his strength, he might not be enough to keep her safe from the forces that would seek to take her from him. That he might lose her.

And, if he was honest, he had been protecting himself, too. Because wasn’t that what he’d always done? Turned away. Vanished. Buried himself so deeply in shadows that no one could reach him. No one could see him.

It was a habit formed long before her—one that had defined him in a life he didn’t like to remember. As a Turk, his protection had always been a lie, a justification for darker purposes. Protection had been an illusion he offered to the people who signed his paycheck, while his true work—assassination, sabotage, espionage—had taken far more than it ever gave. He had carried out his orders with precision, but there was no honor in it. No real justification.

Even then, he had called it protection. Protection of ShinRa’s interests. Protection of “order.”

But Lucrecia had shattered that illusion. It had been her—her and the things he had failed to protect—that taught him how hollow the word truly was. She had trusted him, and he had failed her in the worst ways imaginable. He had stood by while Hojo twisted her life into something unrecognizable, while her genius and kindness were devoured by ambition. He had let his blind loyalty to ShinRa dictate his silence, and when it mattered most, he hadn’t protected her. He hadn’t saved her.

So now, when he spoke of protection, it was a shield—for himself as much as for anyone else. A way to drown the darker truths of his past. If he could protect Aeris —if he could keep her safe from the cruel hands of fate that had taken so much from her already—maybe he could rewrite the parts of himself that still bled. Maybe he could prove to himself that he wasn’t the failure he had been before.

But this wasn’t just about him anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time.

Vincent leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. The steady rhythm of the ship’s engine hummed through the wooden planks beneath him, grounding him even as her voice echoed in his mind again.

“I’m tired of living in the shadows. I want to live. I want us to live.”

He opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. He had spent so long being afraid. Of what? The past? Of what the world might do to her? Or…was it something else? Something he couldn’t admit, even to himself?

The shadow of shame stirred in his chest, unwelcome but persistent.

The words he had thrown at her echoed in his mind, cruel and unforgiving: 

“I am your husband and my decision is final.”

He hated himself for it. Hated how much it sounded like the cold, authoritarian orders of a man he had sworn he would never become. The words reverberated in his mind, clashing violently with the vows he had spoken to her not so long ago: “I vow to be by your side, as your partner, your equal, and the one who will love you without hesitation, without fear, for all the days of my life.”

And yet…in his fear, he had been failing her, hadn’t he? Slowly, piece by piece, he had been edging her out of having a say in her own life. Making choices for her rather than with her. Protecting her, yes—but suffocating her, too. Suffocating them both.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, tilting his head forward, his hand coming up to rest against his forehead. The movement was small, but it carried the weight of his thoughts, of everything he’d tried not to think about for months.

He had lived in fear for so long that it had become familiar. Comfortable, even. It was easier to believe the world would hurt her than to admit that his own fear had already done its share of damage. What did it say about him, that he had hidden the one thing he loved most in the world? That he had made her feel like she was still a shadow—still something to be concealed, rather than seen?

The thought burned more deeply than he expected. It twisted in his chest, sharp and unrelenting, and he had to take another slow breath to settle it.

Vincent glanced at the window, at the faint glint of light reflecting off the glass. The ferry swayed gently, the rhythm soothing in its monotony. Somewhere beyond the glass, the sea stretched wide and endless, dark and unknowable. A part of him wanted to get up, to walk out onto the deck and feel the cool night air, to clear the weight pressing on his chest. But he didn’t move. He let the heaviness settle over him, anchoring him to this moment, forcing him to sit with it.

She wasn’t a shadow. She never was.

She was light—bright enough to burn through everything he thought he was protecting her from. Bright enough to show him that it wasn’t the world he was afraid of. It was himself. It was the way he had clung to the belief that hiding was safer than living.

His eyes closed again, his breath slow and steady, as if daring the clarity to slip away before he could hold onto it.

“I’m tired of living in the shadows. I want to live. I want us to live.”

Her words had been quiet, but they carried a strength that outmatched anything he had ever known. Strength that she carried even now, even through her doubt and uncertainty. Strength that he owed it to her to match, step by step, as best as he could.

She was right. The shadows had always been safer. They had always been where he felt most at home. But Aeris didn’t belong in the shadows. She belonged in the light.

Vincent opened his eyes, his gaze drawn again to the small window, though he could see little beyond the faint reflection of his own face. He sat up straighter, his gloved hand resting on the edge of the bed as the stillness in the room pressed around him.

The ferry groaned softly, the distant call of the waves rising and falling like a lullaby. In her own bed, Aeris shifted in her sleep, her breath soft and even. Vincent glanced toward her, though the dim light barely illuminated her resting form. He watched her for a moment longer, and a quiet resolve settled over him.

For her, he would try.

One step. That was all she had asked for. 

And it was all he could give.

But maybe…maybe it would be enough.

Chapter Text

Darkness pressed in from every direction—thick and absolute.

There was no ground beneath her, no sky above. Just floating, weightless in a vast, endless void. Faint pinpricks of green light drifted slowly through the dark, scattered like distant fireflies. They flickered in and out of sight with no discernible rhythm.

She floated aimlessly, watching the green lights as they hovered just out of reach—their glow clung to her skin in soft glimmers as if dusted in starlight.

Then, all at once, her feet touched something solid; firm beneath her bare soles—smooth and cold like polished stone. She staggered slightly, adjusting to the sudden stillness.

The air hung heavy, dense and unmoving, like the world itself was holding its breath.

“...The thread unravels…”

Aeris turned her head, searching for the source of the sound, but it echoed from everywhere and nowhere at once. It wasn’t a voice. More like a murmur carried on the current of the air itself, a vibration she felt in her bones more than in her ears. It was soft, melodic, and ancient. The way roots speak to the soil; they whispered to her in a secret language only she could understand.

“... One cut, and all is undone…”

The green glow brightened briefly, just enough to illuminate what lay beneath her feet. Aeris froze when she saw it.

Wilted, lifeless flowers stretched across the ground in every direction; petals curled and brittle. Stems drooping as if bent beneath the weight of the air. She felt the press of them beneath her toes, soft and crumbling. For a second, she forgot to breathe, the sight made her heart twist sharply, though she didn’t know why.

"...From one, many; from many, none..."

She dropped to her knees, her hands hovering just above the flowers—or rather, what was left of them. She didn’t want to touch them. The haunting wrongness of the scene seeped into her skin like cold water, and yet, she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

The green lights stirred, moving forward in unison like a silent procession. They pulsed as though calling to her, urging her to follow. Aeris hesitated but rose to her feet, her heart now hammering in her chest. As if pulled by invisible strings, she stepped forward, her gaze locked on the floating lights.

Out of the void, large stone pillars emerged—ancient and weathered, towering in solemn silence. A single circular platform lay ahead, bathed in a soft light from above. The light poured down like a heavenly spotlight, breaking through the shadows and illuminating the figure in its center.

She froze when she recognized Aeris .

Aeris knelt on the platform, hands clasped in prayer, head slightly bowed. The soft light caught on her hair, making it shimmer like gold, and her presence radiated a quiet serenity. Aeris’ chest ached, her hands curling into fists at her sides as an overwhelming blend of awe, despair, and confusion washed over her. 

She tried to step forward, but her feet wouldn’t move. She glanced down, panic surging as she saw black water rising around her ankles, but it wasn’t water; it was thick and solid, holding her in place like iron shackles.

“Aeris!” she cried out, her voice trembling, but the woman on the platform didn’t react.

And then she saw it. 

Sephiroth descended from above, his blade gleaming in the light. Aeris merely watched the familiar scene unfold.

Much to her bewilderment, Cloud leapt into view—his sword raised in defense. He stood between Sephiroth and Aeris, the force of their clash sending sparks flying.

Aeris held her breath, frozen in place as she just watched in silence.

Then all of it vanished like smoke.

To her right, another light appeared. She turned her head slowly, her heart hammering painfully in her chest as she glimpsed a second platform—a mirror image of the first. 

Cloud was there again. But his face was different this time—cold, empty, and void of humanity. He moved like a marionette with severed strings, his motions sharp and unnatural. His sword wasn’t raised to protect Aeris. 

In one terrible motion, his blade slashed through her, and she collapsed to the ground, dead.

“Cloud, no!” Aeris cried, distraught, tears welling in her eyes. She struggled against the black water anchoring her in place, but it refused to yield. 

“...Aeris…”

Her name drifted through the void like a breath, soft and distinct.

She gasped, and she spun toward the sound. It was closer this time, no longer a vibration in the air but a whisper she could almost touch.

Her eyes darted toward the edge of the dark. She squinted, searching desperately for something—anything—that could reveal its source.

Nothing. Just the green glow of the Lifestream, threading softly through the black.

But she wasn’t alone.

The air shifted behind her, a change so subtle—but she felt it. A presence. Close. Too close. Her whole body went rigid as cold fingers of dread crept slowly down her spine. She didn’t turn right away.

A breath touched her ear—slow, cold, and deliberate.

“Rise and shine, little doll,” came the voice, low and silken, the syllables stretched out in a way that sent a jolt of ice down her back. Her breath left her in a quiet, shuddering gasp.

“Time to wake up. Wake up from that pretty little dream you’ve built for yourself.”

She knew that voice—she knew it all too well. It wasn’t like the ancient hum of the Planet. This was sharp, serpentine, and laced with malice. Her heart pounded hard, breath shallow as her muscles locked into place.

A chill swept over her shoulder as icy fingers clamped down.

Her heart seized, and she spun around with a wild jerk of her arms, frantic for something to push away—

Nothing.

Only darkness and faint green lights. Her chest heaved, her breath shuddered through her lips, ragged and uneven. Eyes darted around, wild and searching, but there was no one there. 

But she felt him.

Her fingers hovered over her shoulder, right where she’d felt his hand. Her mind screamed in alarm; every fiber of her being blazing with the instinct to flee. If only she could move.

He’s here. He’s close.

“You don’t belong here,” she forced out, her voice trembling despite the composure in her words, as though she were challenging the darkness itself. 

The green glow pulsed softly, almost in rhythm with her heartbeat.

“It’s you who doesn’t belong here,” answered the voice, cold and deliberate, the words striking like a blade in the silence. “None of this does.”

It felt like he had become one with the void, closing in tighter around her. The green glow flickered as though it, too, was about to be consumed.

“This place isn’t real,” he whispered, closer now, brushing against her ear like smoke. “And neither are you.”

In an instant, thick black tendrils erupted from the waters below, coiling around her legs as she struggled against them. They slithered upward, tightening their grip, binding her arms until she was completely immobilized. Slowly, inexorably, they crept toward her throat, coiling around her neck like a noose. Her voice faltered, strangled into silence, as the tendrils constricted, cutting off her breath...

“Aeris. Wake up.”

Her eyes shot open.

Aeris jolted upright, gasping for breath, heart hammering hard in her chest, as if she'd run for miles. Her body was damp with sweat. 

Her gaze landed on Vincent. He sat beside her on the edge of the bed, his crimson eyes locked on her with quiet intensity. He watched her like she was something fragile — or something on the verge of shattering. His hand hovered a few inches from her shoulder, as if he’d been about to shake her awake but had stopped himself at the last second.

She looked around anxiously, expecting darkness, searching for him. The cabin greeted her instead, bathed in the soft golden light streaming through the porthole—a stark contrast to the weightless void of the nightmare.

“Vincent,” she breathed, almost inaudibly, if only to anchor herself back in waking life. “What’s wrong?” 

“You were gone. I tried to wake you,” he said, his voice calm but edged with something sharper. Something she recognized. It wasn’t fear, but it had its shape. “You wouldn’t respond. It was like…you weren’t here.” His gaze didn’t waver, his brows drawn into a faint line of concern. He lowered his hand slowly to his knee. “I called your name several times before you woke up.”

Her stomach twisted at his words. They echoed through her mind like the whispers had, like his words had. She could still feel it — the grip on her shoulder, the brush of breath against her ear, too close and too real. Her gaze flicked behind her, almost as if expecting to find him there. 

Her hands pressed into her lap, fingers curling tightly against the fabric of her dress to still the faint tremor in her hands.

“Are you alright?” Vincent’s low voice cut through the silence, steady and calm as always, yet he frowned, his red eyes trained on her, holding a flicker of concern. He rested his hand gently on her shoulder, but Aeris tensed up involuntarily for a fraction of a second. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. Lowering her gaze, she pressed a hand to her chest, focusing on the steady thud of her heartbeat as she exhaled slowly. “It was just a nightmare, that’s all.”

His hand and his keen eyes lingered on her longer than she liked. He didn’t need to speak for her to know that he saw right through her fib.

“I won’t pry,” he stated softly, squeezing her shoulder slightly for emphasis, “but I can tell—there’s something you’re holding back. Whatever it is, whenever you’re ready to share, I’ll listen.”

Aeris nodded slowly, but avoided his eyes. In truth, she felt torn; her shoulders tensed, and she tried to hide her feelings. He already had so much to carry—how could she add to that? No, she told herself firmly. He didn’t need to know. She could handle it. This was her burden to bear.

…But was it really?

Guilt gnawed at her. She couldn’t get the two scenes with Aeris and Cloud out of her head. And the dead flowers, those strange, enigmatic words, but mostly...Sephiroth’s suffocating presence, which grew all the more oppressive as time passed.

Her gaze flicked toward him. His steady presence was a comfort to her even as her heart raced. ‘Maybe I should just tell him.’ 

She inhaled, her lips parting to speak—but the words caught in her throat, tangled with the weight of what they carried.

The ship’s intercom buzzed suddenly, breaking the silence with a crackle of static.

The sound startled her more than it should have. Her head snapped toward the speaker mounted on the wall.

A moment later, a voice came through — bright, loud, and brimming with the kind of false cheer that belonged only to ship captains, tour guides, and radio DJs:

“Alright, folks, this is your captain. We’re about to dock in Costa del Sol, so get ready to step off this boat and into a wall of heat. It’s currently 33 degrees Celsius, but we’re expecting a blazing 38 degrees later in the day, so stay hydrated and don’t forget the sunscreen. Make sure you’ve got your bags, your hats, and whatever else you brought, ‘cause once you’re off, we’re not turning back.”

There was a short pause, then the captain's voice returned, his tone light but pointed.

“On behalf of myself and the crew, thanks for sailing with us. Enjoy the beaches, watch your wallets, and try not to end up with a tab you can’t pay.”

Silence returned to the cabin, but this time it wasn’t calm. It wasn’t peace. It was the kind of silence that settles after something important has happened. The kind that presses into you, making you feel it twice as hard.

Aeris leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped together and head bowed. She let out a slow breath through her nose, steadying herself.

‘"The thread unravels. One cut, and all is undone. From one, many; from many, none"? What on earth is that supposed to mean?’ 

The blast of the ship’s horn jolted her from her thoughts. She blinked and turned toward the window, where Vincent stood, watching the coastline of Costa del Sol come into view—bright, vibrant, and teeming with life. The kaleidoscope of color and movement beyond the glass stood in stark contrast to the heavy shadows lingering in her mind.

“It looks like we’ve arrived,” Vincent said quietly, gaze still fixed on the view.

Aeris nodded, promptly standing up, brushing a hand over her dress to smooth the wrinkles. “Let’s go,” she said, perhaps a bit too eager to get out of there. 

The ferry approached the dock, the calls of seagulls could be heard clearly now. The salty air was thick and warm, as opposed to the cool ocean breeze they’d enjoyed during the ride. As Aeris stepped off the ship and onto the bustling docks, she wiped the sweat already forming on her brow. She let out a soft, breathy sigh as her eyes drifted over the scene before her, quickly forgetting her previous thoughts. 

The beach stretched in a wide, white curve, the waves glittering like jewels under the sun. Bright umbrellas lined the shore, shading sunbathers, while children splashed in the surf. Vendors called out from the boardwalk, their stalls overflowing with colorful towels, drinks in coconuts, and necklaces made from polished shells and coral. The air was thick with the mingled scents of sunscreen and grilled seafood.

Aeris turned slowly in place, like she needed to see every part of it at once. Her gaze lingered on the scene—on the tourists dancing to blaring music, on the cry of seagulls circling lazily overhead. She couldn't contain her smile. It was like the world had momentarily let her forget its burdens.

“It’s so lively here,” she said, turning to Vincent, her eyes sparkling with joy. “It feels like a whole different world.”

Standing a step behind her, Vincent looked out over the chaotic scene with his usual impassive expression. His gaze lingered on a particularly rowdy group of tourists struggling to build a sandcastle, hurling obscenities at one another between collapsing towers of wet sand. “Lively,” he repeated, his tone dry as the sand. “Or…loud, crowded, and overpriced—depending on your perspective.”

Aeris couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking her head. “Well, aren’t you just full of optimism today?”

He adjusted his bandana, pulling it lower over his eyes to shield them from the glare of the sun. His lips twitched faintly, though the expression barely qualified as a smile. “Optimism,” he said evenly, “would be finding shade.”

As the two of them left the ferry and stepped onto the sun-bleached docks of Costa del Sol, they were immediately greeted by the blare of ukulele music and a small, brightly dressed troupe of dancers. The women, decked out in colorful floral skirts and adorned with leis, moved gracefully to the music, their laughter and singing rising above the sounds of the bustling port. One of the dancers approached Aeris with a flower necklace in hand, her smile warm and inviting.

“Oh!” Aeris exclaimed softly, blinking in surprise as the woman slipped the garland over her head. She smiled in return, reaching up to touch the delicate flowers. “Thank you.”

The dancer turned to Vincent next, holding out another flower lei. She hesitated for a moment, her bright smile faltering slightly as her eyes locked onto his imposing figure. Vincent’s piercing crimson gaze peering out from under his bandana, and the stark contrast of his dark cloak and sharp claw glinting in the sunlight against the lively surroundings were enough to give her pause. After a moment of awkward hesitation, she stepped back with an apologetic smile, quickly turning to greet someone else.

Aeris bit her lip to suppress a laugh, glancing sideways at Vincent. “You know,” she teased, “it wouldn’t hurt to look a little less…intimidating. It’s a garland, not a weapon.”

He adjusted his cloak without a word, the barest flicker of exasperation crossing his face. “I’m not wearing flowers,” he said simply, his tone curt but even.

Before Aeris could respond, her laughter faded. Her expression grew distant. 

A faint hum filled her ears, low and melodic, as though the very air around her was vibrating. The edges of her vision blurred slightly, and for a moment, the cheerful bustle of Costa del Sol faded away.

The whispers began again—soft, fragmented, and hauntingly familiar. She struggled to piece them together.

“...watching…waiting… …something forgotten… …stirring again…”

She inhaled sharply, her hand gripping the flower garland around her neck as her knees wavered slightly beneath her.

Vincent, who had already begun walking, turned abruptly at her change in demeanor. “Aeris?”

“I’m okay,” she said quickly, though her voice was faint. She blinked rapidly, as the vivid sounds of Costa del Sol came rushing back—the ukulele music, the murmur of the crowd, the cry of seagulls. She forced a smile as she met Vincent’s gaze. “It’s just the heat.”

His sharp eyes lingered on her for a long moment, studying her face, his brow faintly furrowed, but he didn’t press the matter. Instead, he turned his attention back to the crowded streets ahead. But unease still curled in her chest.

The sun beat down mercilessly as they moved through the narrow streets. The pastel buildings lining the town were cheery and bright, but they offered little relief from the blazing heat. The stone paths radiated warmth, amplifying the already stifling atmosphere and making every step feel heavier.

Vendors called out to passersby from vibrant stalls draped in brightly colored fabrics, their wares catching the sunlight like treasure pulled from the ocean. They jingled bracelets strung with glass beads and seashells, held up wide-brimmed sun hats that fluttered in the breeze, and offered cones of ice cream swirled high in soft, rippling peaks, their pastel hues gleaming like polished seashells in the sun. The air was thick with the mingled scents of tropical fruit and saltwater, underscored by the faint, metallic tang of freshly grilled seafood.

Aeris fanned herself with one hand, her cheeks flushed from the heat but her eyes alight with wonder. Everything around her was buzzing with life—the laughter of children darting between the stalls, the clinking of coins exchanging hands, the brilliant flashes of varicolored birds flitting overhead in bursts of red, green and gold, the rhythmic crash of the waves in the background. Her gaze darted from one stall to the next, drinking in every detail as if she might miss something magical if she looked away.

“It’s all so…alive ,” she murmured, her voice soft but threaded with awe. She spun in a slow circle, her gaze lingering on a display of tiny chocobo figurines carved from driftwood, then on a bard perched atop an overturned crate, his voice rising over the hum of the crowd as he told a tale of distant lands and forgotten heroes. “It almost makes you forget how hot it is,” Aeris said with a smile, though she barely seemed to notice the sweat clinging to her brow.

Vincent glanced sideways at her, pulling his bandana a fraction lower as sunlight bounced off a nearby window and caught his eyes, momentarily blinding him. “I haven’t forgotten,” he said dryly, further burying his face in his tall collar.

Aeris smiled faintly, though her steps were beginning to falter. He was right; the heat was actually becoming unbearable, and she could feel her earlier vision gnawing at the edges of her mind. It wasn’t just the heat making her uneasy; the whispers from the Planet had left a small but lingering tension in her chest. 

Yet, she glanced at Vincent, her gaze sweeping over his dark cloak and high collar, so out of place in Costa del Sol’s sun-soaked streets. She then spotted a nearby stand selling colorful shirts and shorts with various patterns of hibiscus flowers and palm trees. Her lips quirked into a mischievous smile, a flicker of light breaking through her disquiet.

“Hmmmmm,” she mused aloud, tapping her chin with a finger, her tone light and teasing. “Maybe we should find you some proper beachwear—shorts, a floral shirt, and a big sun hat. I think you’d look great in tropical patterns.”

Vincent stopped walking. Slowly, deliberately, he turned to look at her, his red eyes sharp and unblinking. The silence stretched just long enough for Aeris to wonder if she’d gone too far.

A low sound rumbled in his chest—somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “Don’t,” he said, his voice steady but edged with faint hesitation, as though debating whether to respond at all. Though his tone held no threat, there was an almost imperceptible crack in his composure—a flicker of discomfort, or maybe embarrassment.

Aeris couldn’t help herself; laughter spilled out, bright and unrestrained. “Relax, I’m kidding,” she said warmly, brushing a bead of sweat from her brow. She grinned at him, her expression softening into something more tender. “I don’t need tropical patterns to know how handsome you are.”

His gaze lingered on her, narrowing slightly as though trying to read her sincerity. Finally, a quiet breath escaped him, low and deliberate. “You’re relentless,” he murmured, his tone hushed, but with the smallest trace of tenderness.

Her smile didn’t waver. “Of course I am,” she said brightly, brushing her hand against his arm as she fell into step beside him. Her fingers lingered for a moment before falling away, her teasing slipping into something gentler. "It’s the only way I’ll see that tiny smile."

He tilted his head slightly, his brow lifting a fraction. “What smile?” he asked, his tone cool and detached enough that anyone else might’ve believed him. But Aeris knew better.

“Oh, you know,” she said, her grin widening as she gestured vaguely toward his face. “The one right there. The one you think I don’t notice.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head faintly. “You’re seeing things,” he muttered, though his voice was gentler than normal.

“Hmm. Sure I am,” Aeris said, chuckling softly. She leaned in just slightly, her voice playful but hushed. “Don’t worry—I won’t tell anyone. Your secret’s safe with me.”

A twitch of his lips betrayed him, barely noticeable to anyone else, but Aeris saw it. His shoulders eased just slightly, and for a fleeting moment, she saw the unguarded affection in his gaze. “Sometimes I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into,” he said, a small huff of amusement slipping through his words.

Aeris still smiled, her voice warm and teasing. “You’re stuck with me now, and you know you love it.” She stroked his arm fondly, her tone softening as she added, “You got the deal of a lifetime, love.”

He was silent for a moment, then glanced down at her, and she saw it again—the quiet, unspoken warmth in his eyes. “I suppose I can’t argue with that,” he replied at last, his voice low but unmistakably earnest.

She faltered, not expecting his candid reply, before a radiant smile spread across her face. She said nothing more, letting the moment settle as they continued down the crowded street. 

As they walked, Vincent turned slightly and offered her his arm—a gesture so understated it could have gone unnoticed. She blinked, momentarily caught off guard, and the silent man watched her from the corner of his eye, waiting. She smiled up at him warmly, slipping her arm around his without hesitation, and leaned into his shoulder.

The small act of closeness grounded her, even as the oppressive heat mirrored the tension of her earlier visions, lingering at the edges of her mind. His quiet, steady presence kept all of that at bay—if only for now. It wasn’t much, but it lifted her spirits as they wove through the crowd.

They sat together in the patchy shade of a swaying palm tree, its long fronds rustling softly in the warm breeze. Nearby, a vendor of cold beverages lounged beneath the striped canopy of his stand, lazily fanning himself with a bent piece of cardboard, his eyes half-lidded with boredom. The distant hum of Costa del Sol's lively crowds mingled with the steady crash of waves along the shore.

Aeris uncapped the cold bottle of water she’d bought and took a small sip before offering it to Vincent. He accepted it with a nod, tilting it back for a brief drink before handing it back to her without a word.

The soft crinkle of paper sounded louder than it should as Aeris pulled a folded map from her satchel, shaking it open across her lap. Her finger traced one of the marked paths, following it absently, but her gaze shifted toward Vincent instead, her brow furrowing slightly in quiet thought.

“By the way, I forgot to ask,” she said, her tone easy but her eyes sharp with quiet curiosity. “What did Rufus say to you yesterday?”

Vincent’s keen gaze shifted to her, as if the question took him by surprise. His eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary before he turned his attention to the horizon. He leaned back against the tree, his posture as still as ever, but there was a quiet weight to his movements now—like something unseen had settled over him.

“He asked about Davoren,” he admitted at length, his voice low but even, as if the words had been carefully chosen.

Aeris blinked at the unexpected revelation, looking up at him, her fingers going still on the map. “Davoren?” she repeated, the name hitting with quiet weight. Her brow furrowed. “Why?"

His gaze stayed on the horizon. “Let’s just say, they have history,” he said, his voice low and even, each word deliberate. After a pause, he added, “And he’s the reason Rufus is still alive.”

Aeris didn’t press him. Her eyes stayed on him for a moment longer, watching the steady line of his profile before she quietly returned her attention to the map. But her focus had slipped elsewhere. Her fingers hovered just above its surface, tracing invisible paths that led nowhere. Her brow knitted in quiet thought, her gaze distant, as though she were fitting puzzle pieces together in her mind.

Her voice, when it came, was softer—more to herself than to him. “Like us,” she murmured, her fingers pausing on the edge of the paper. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet Vincent’s, her eyes clear but steady with quiet realization. “It’s strange, isn’t it? That if it weren’t for him, we…”

Her words trailed off, unfinished but her meaning was clear. 

Davoren. Ex-Turk. A name that once filled her with dread. Once Vincent’s friend, later his relentless pursuer. Hojo’s pawn, bound by twisted loyalty, tasked with hunting them both—her and Vincent—like prey to be dragged back into the professor’s clutches. But in the end, when the fight for freedom had reached its bleakest moment, when the world around them was quite literally falling apart, it was Davoren who had pulled them out. It was because of him that the two of them survived.

Vincent glanced at her, his gaze sharp but steady, his expression as impassive as ever. His answer came quietly but firmly. “We’re still here,” he said simply. “That’s what matters.”

Aeris watched him for a moment, her gaze searching his face. Then, slowly, her lips curved into a small but genuine smile. “Yeah,” she said softly. “That’s what matters.” Her fingers brushed the edge of the map, tracing one of the routes absently. "Funny, isn't it? How we're all connected in ways we don't know. How you never know who's going to end up saving you."

Vincent regarded her for a long moment as if contemplating her words, but said nothing. 

After a pause, Aeris took a breath and straightened the map on her lap, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Okay,” she murmured, her tone lighter but purposeful. She traced a finger along one of the paths marked on the map. “If we head south here past the desert, we should be able to save a lot of time.” She glanced at Vincent, showing him the map. “That looks quicker, right?”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” interrupted the vendor manning the small stand next to them. He waved his cardboard ‘fan’ in front of his face, trying to ward off the oppressive heat. His shirt was damp, clinging to his chest. “That road’s been blocked for days,” he said plainly. “Sinkholes swallowed half the trail.”

Aeris frowned, pointing at her map. “What about the chocobo paths? Could we go around?”

He shook his head. “No dice. Wranglers’ve already tried it. Too dangerous—unstable ground, falling trees. No one’s getting through there anytime soon.” He leaned back on his stool and nodded toward the distant hills. “If you’re set on traveling, your best bet’s heading up toward Corel. It’s a ways out, but it’s the only real route left open. Lotta folks’ve been rerouting that way—merchants, travelers, you name it.”

Aeris let out a quiet sigh, folding the map to her chest as she looked at Vincent. “Corel, then,” she murmured, the words heavy with resignation. The detour would add time to their journey, but they didn’t have much of a choice.

Vincent gave a small, measured nod, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “If the trails are unstable, it’s safer this way.”

And yet, even with the decision made, Aeris couldn’t shake the strange, creeping unease curling in the pit of her stomach. It wasn’t the heat or the frustration of being rerouted—but something deeper. Something she couldn’t name. Her fingers tightened slightly on the map, the coarse paper crinkling under her touch. The vendor’s description of the instability played back in her mind—sinkholes, unstable ground, collapsing trees. She tried to brush it off as nerves or fatigue, but the feeling remained, heavy and insistent, like a shadow just out of sight.

“Okay…” she said quietly, shaking herself from her thoughts. “And how do we get there?”

The vendor tilted his head, squinting as though gauging their endurance. “You’re gonna have to hike it,” he said, gesturing toward the distant mountains that loomed beyond Costa del Sol’s shimmering coastline. “The road toward Corel starts off decent enough—flat trails, easy walking—but once you hit the foothills, it gets steeper. You’ll need to follow the old mining paths up and through the pass. It’s not a short trip, but it’s manageable if you’re used to traveling on foot. But that heat’ll drain you faster than you think. You’ll need water, and plenty of it.” 

Aeris exchanged another glance with Vincent. His eyes remained distant, however, as though he were already mentally preparing for the climb. She tucked the map carefully into her satchel, and they stood. “I guess we’d better get started,” she said, forcing a small, determined smile.

Vincent’s gaze lingered on the mountains in the distance. “Be ready for rough terrain,” he said quietly. “And stay close. That place has a way of testing anyone who enters it.”

The vendor gave them a halfhearted wave as they started off. “Good luck,” he called after them. “You’ll need it.”

Aeris turned her eyes to the hills ahead, the foreboding feeling in her chest refusing to dissipate. She let out an exhale. The oppressive heat pressed down on her like a weight. 

She then glanced over her shoulder when she heard the rapid thwap-thwap-thwap of sandals on pavement. Before she could turn fully, a loud, triumphant voice cut through the noise.

“I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT WAS YOU, YOU EDGY SON OF A GUN!”

Aeris spun just as a girl in sun-faded shorts and a loose sash slid to a sudden halt in front of them, panting like she’d just sprinted across town. Her short black hair was messy with sweat, and her skin was tinged pink from too much sun. The large, circular weapon on her back gleamed in the sunlight, sharp and ready for chaos.

Her wide eyes locked onto Vincent like a hawk spotting prey, her expression a mix of triumph and disbelief.

"No. Freakin’. Way! It really is you!" the girl announced, grinning wildly. “Vincent Valentine, brooding in broad daylight! Someone mark it on the calendar—this is HISTORIC,” she quipped, beaming like she’d just stumbled onto buried treasure.

Chapter Text

The stranger planted herself squarely in their path, her wide grin so full of energy it almost made Aeris feel dizzy.

“I thought my eyes were messing with me or something! Didn’t think you’d crawl outta the shadows for Costa del Sol,” the girl declared, then thrust an accusatory finger toward Vincent, still grinning. “You’ve got some nerve disappearing for almost two years without so much as a ‘hey, I’m alive.’ I thought you’d gone full vampire and shacked up in some creepy old castle!”

Vincent sighed softly, unamused by her choice of words. “Hello, Yuffie,” he said, his voice flat but polite, his gaze steady on her.

“Don’t ‘hello’ me! What the heck, man?!” Yuffie crossed her arms and pouted dramatically, though the smile tugging at the corner of her lips betrayed her true feelings. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to argue with people who thought you were dead? Or worse—pfft, never mind, you probably know.”

Aeris, who had been watching this sudden burst of chaotic energy unfold, found herself torn between amusement, confusion and apprehension. But before she could open her mouth to ask anything, Yuffie’s attention already shifted to her.

Her dark eyes stayed on Aeris for a moment, taking her in casually, almost nonchalantly. “Oh hey,” she said, nodding in polite acknowledgment before turning her attention back to Vincent. “You’ve picked up a new travel buddy, huh? That’s cool. Must be nice for you—”

She stopped mid-sentence, her words trailing off into silence. Slowly, her head swiveled back toward Aeris, her eyes narrowing like a cat spotting something it wasn’t supposed to. Her expression turned thoughtful, as a realization had begun to take shape.

“Wait a sec…” she murmured, tilting her head as she stepped closer. Her brow furrowed when her eyes scanned Aeris' face with growing intensity, studying her features as though she were piecing together a puzzle. “You kinda…” Her voice faltered, her expression shifting from casual curiosity to something harder to read, more uncertain.

Aeris fidgeted uncomfortably a bit under the sudden scrutiny. “Umm…is something wrong?” she asked, her voice calm but edged with hesitation. She sensed where this was going.

The young woman didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze flicked between Aeris and Vincent now, confusion clouding her features. Then, like a spark catching fire, realization struck. She staggered back a step, her eyes widening as she gaped at Aeris.

“What in the actual—?!” she whispered, breathless, before her voice rose suddenly and she startled some nearby tourists. “WHAT LEVEL OF SORCERY IS THIS?!?! You—you look just like—” Her hand shot up, pointing directly at Aeris as though trying to hold her in place. “What is this?!” she exclaimed, her words pitching higher with every breath, and passersby were staring at her. Her eyes darted wildly between the pair, her hands flailing for emphasis. “Is this some kinda ‘shadow-clone trick’?!”

The words hit harder than they should have. Aeris' fingers twitched at her sides, her breath coming shallow and uneven for a heartbeat before she forced herself to steady it.

Her eyes dropped for a moment. While she managed to keep herself composed, appearing neutral, those two words, those three syllables, had already wedged themselves somewhere deep, in places that were still tender.

She lifted her head, about to respond, but much to her surprise, Vincent gripped Yuffie’s wrist firmly and marched down the street in morose silence, ignoring the girl’s bristling protests. Aeris hurried to keep up until they turned a corner and slipped into a deserted back alley, away from the crowd—away from prying eyes and ears.

“Hey, what the heck!?” Yuffie barked, yanking her arm free from Vincent’s vice-like grip and rubbing her wrist in annoyance. Her wide-eyed stare flicked between the two of them, confusion and irritation simmering in her expression. “Seriously! How is she here!? ”

Aeris blinked, taken aback by the intensity of Yuffie’s reaction; she thought she detected a hint of pain in her voice. “I’m sorry…” she began quietly, her voice calm but carefully measured. “I’m not…who you think I am.”

“She’s not,” Vincent confirmed quietly, stepping a fraction closer to Aeris. His voice was firm but gentle, offering quiet reassurance.

But Yuffie wasn’t buying it. “What do you mean she’s not?!” she demanded, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “She looks exactly like Aeris! This can’t be real. Nope. I’m dreaming. Someone get me a reality check, ’cause I think I’m having a stroke!”

Aeris glanced at Vincent, silently searching his expression. The quiet storm of emotions playing across Yuffie’s face—shock, confusion, desperation—made her hesitate. This young woman, Yuffie, clearly knew Vincent. But could she be trusted with the truth?

Vincent’s small, almost imperceptible nod gave her the answer. His steady gaze spoke for him: Tell her.

“What’s going on here?” Yuffie pressed, her voice rising with frustration. “Someone start talking. Right now. ”

And so, they told her.

The explanation came in pieces—calm and methodical on Vincent’s part, hesitant but sincere on Aeris’. They told her about the secret ShinRa laboratory, hidden inside an old reactor in Midgar. About how Hojo—who had survived—had created Aeris. They explained how Vincent had found her, trapped in Hojo’s twisted experiment, and how he’d fought to free her. Hojo’s ultimate goal, they revealed, had been nothing less than creating a "perfected Sephiroth"—a vessel to bring his warped vision of the world to life. Aeris, though alive and very much her own person, had been designed as a tool for that purpose.

With quiet vulnerability, Aeris also shared her own truth—the strange visions that haunted her, and the fragmented whispers of the Planet that called to her in ways she didn’t fully understand. Each word felt like peeling back a hidden layer of herself, exposing the delicate balance between fear and purpose that had carried her this far.

As the story unfolded, Yuffie’s expression shifted through a flurry of emotions: shock, sorrow, anger, and confusion mingling together in her dark eyes. Her brow furrowed deeply, her lips pressed into a thin line, and at times, her gaze softened as though she wanted to reach out to Aeris, but didn’t quite know how. When the story finally ended, she stood there, utterly still, absorbing it all.

Her fists clenched at her sides, her jaw locking as she stared down at the dirt road beneath her feet. “ShinRa,” she hissed through gritted teeth, venom dripping from the name. “Of course they’d do something like that. Of course.” She let out a sharp breath, her shoulders rising and falling with the effort to contain her fury. “No respect for life, no respect for anything —humans are just garbage to them. And the dead? They’re just fuel for the machine.” 

Yuffie glanced quickly at Aeris with a flash of self-consciousness. “Sorry,” she muttered, her voice trailing off like she wasn’t sure how to finish. Her gaze darted to Aeris, flickering with hesitation. “I didn’t mean…”

Aeris nodded in reassurance, despite the unease in her chest. “It’s okay. I know what you meant.”

Yuffie sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Like one Sephiroth wasn’t enough. And somehow, the world needed an even worse one ?” She shook her head, her voice bitter but tinged with disbelief. “You’d think Hojo would’ve run out of crazy by now, but no. Guess there’s no limit on that.”

She turned her gaze back to Aeris, her expression softening slightly, curiosity shining through the lingering tension. “So…what now? You’re on some kinda truth quest or something?”

Aeris hesitated, glancing briefly at Vincent before looking back at Yuffie. “You could say that. We’re headed to Cosmo Canyon,” she said, her voice quiet but steady. “I think…I’ll be able to find answers there.” 

She didn’t mention Sephiroth. Not yet. The weight of that revelation was too heavy for this moment, and Yuffie’s reaction already told her how deeply this information had shaken her.

Yuffie studied her carefully, her emotions flickering across her face—anger, sorrow, confusion, and something else. Hope, perhaps. Faint and fragile but undeniably there. “Cosmo Canyon,” she said slowly, almost as if tasting the words. “You mean, like, Red’s old place? Huh…” She trailed off, her expression pensive, but the faintest glimmer of a smile tugged at her lips, as if she wanted to believe there was a reason for all of this—something bigger and brighter waiting on the horizon.

Vincent’s gaze then shifted toward Yuffie. “And you? What are you doing here?”

Yuffie immediately perked back up, jabbing a thumb at herself with her trademark confidence. “I’m on my own mission. Top secret ninja stuff. You know how it is.”

Aeris tilted her head curiously. “Top secret?”

“Well, okay, fine, ” Yuffie admitted. “I’m looking for some materia rumored to be in North Corel. Apparently, some old prospector found it in the mountains and doesn’t know what to do with it. Sounds special. I can’t just not check that out, right?”

Vincent crossed his arms, unimpressed. “So, you’re chasing rumors.”

“Good rumors,” Yuffie countered. “Mostly good. I also heard there's some weird stuff going on in Corel. Don’t know what kind of weird, but that just makes it more interesting, right?” Her grin returned, wide and mischievous. “But hey, it's on your way now. Perfect! I’ll tag along! You missed me anyway.”

Aeris exchanged a quick glance with Vincent, catching the slight lift of his eyebrow that spoke volumes without a word. Her lips curved into a small, warm smile as she turned back to Yuffie. “The more, the merrier,” she said lightly, though her gaze flicked to Vincent for a moment, her expression teasing. He didn’t reply, only let out a small resigned sigh—but the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his thoughts.

“And you’ll probably see Barret again!” Yuffie added, her voice bright with excitement. “It’ll be like old times! Kinda.”

Aeris caught the way Yuffie’s expression shifted just slightly as she said the words, her eyes darting to Aeris in a brief, almost imperceptible glance—like she’d just remembered who she was really talking to. The grin on Yuffie’s face faltered for just a second before she recovered, but the pause hung heavy in the air. 

Aeris’ smile wavered as well for a heartbeat until she steadied it. The slip shouldn’t have mattered—it didn’t—but the knot in her stomach tightened all the same.

She forced a small smile, brushing the unease aside. “Sounds like a plan,” she said gently, her voice calm even as she felt the weight of Yuffie’s awkward correction.

The young ninja scratched the back of her neck with a sheepish grin. “Yeah...you know, kinda-sorta old times. New-but-good times, maybe?” she added quickly, her tone deliberately light and breezy in an attempt to smooth over the slip.

Aeris nodded faintly, her smile soft but still carefully held in place. “New times,” she agreed quietly, though her gaze briefly dropped to the ground, and the words lingered somewhere bittersweet in her mind.

Thus, the trio set out from Costa del Sol within the hour. 

The midday sun beat down as they began their climb into the foothills. The dusty path winding upward through dry, uneven terrain. Aeris wiped the sweat from her forehead, casting a glance at Vincent, whose steady, determined pace never faltered despite the relentless heat.

The hike up the mountain had been grueling. They had been trudging for hours under the persistent afternoon sun, the heat clinging to their skin and making each step feel heavier than the last. The dusty trail wound sharply upward, flanked by jagged rocks and sparse patches of dry grass. Aeris felt the burn in her legs with every incline, her breaths coming harder as the trail stretched endlessly ahead. Vincent stayed close, his movements as steady and deliberate as ever, slowing his pace or stopping whenever she needed a break to catch her breath. He even offered to carry her, though she declined with a faint smile and a shake of her head. Behind them, Yuffie trailed with her usual quick-footed ease, but Aeris could feel the weight of her gaze now and then—curious, almost studying her. Though the ninja didn’t say anything, the air between them felt charged, as if Yuffie was filing away every interaction between the pair with quiet interest. Aeris brushed off the thought, refocusing on the trail ahead as the sun blazed mercilessly overhead, casting long shadows along the rocky path. It felt like the air itself was smothering, turning their breaths into shallow pants. 

Now, however, the weather had taken a dramatic turn. The wind picked up, rustling through some nearby trees. Dark clouds rolled in overhead and the temperature dropped noticeably.  Within moments, rain started falling in fat droplets. Then the heavens opened up. Sheets of rain poured down in a sudden, relentless deluge, soaking them to the bone in seconds.

Aeris wiped at her face, blinking against the rain as it poured down her cheeks, and let out a small, awkward laugh. “Well, at least we’re not hot anymore,” she said, her voice a delicate mix of amusement and quiet resignation—determined to find the silver lining in the situation.

Walking a few paces ahead, Vincent paused briefly and turned his head just enough to glance back at her. Rain dripped steadily from his hair and cloak as his deep, even voice cut through the sound of the storm. “True. Hypothermia is far more exciting.”

Yuffie, trudging behind them let out an exaggerated groan. “Ugh, seriously, Vincent?” She shot him a look like he’d just ruined her whole day. “If you’re gonna be miserable, can’t you do it quietly like the rest of us??”

Vincent turned back to the path ahead without a word, his stride calm and deliberate as the rain continued to pelt them.

“That was a joke, Yuffie,” Aeris said matter-of-factly, brushing wet hair from her face as she cast a knowing glance at Vincent. There was a quiet fondness woven into her voice; a warmth that softened the edges of the storm around them.

Yuffie threw her hands up, her expression a mix of disbelief and mock betrayal. “Oh, so that’s supposed to be funny now? Wow. Glad you two are fluent in ‘cryptic misery,’ ’cause I’m not.” She crossed her arms, shivering dramatically as the rain soaked through her clothes. “Next time, send me a translation.”

The storm descended with an unrelenting ferocity, the rain blurring the trail ahead into a murky haze. Visibility dropped to near nothing, the world around them dissolving into a wash of gray and brown. The ground beneath their feet turned into treacherous sludge, the mud clinging to their boots in heavy, wet clumps that made each step harder than the last. Yuffie’s frustrated yelp cut through the roar of the downpour as her foot slid out from under her, sending her sprawling into the muck with a splash. Aeris reached out instinctively to help her, nearly losing her own footing in the process as the mud sucked at her boots like quicksand. Vincent, ever steady, planted himself firmly and extended a hand to pull them both upright, his cloak plastered to him by the rain. The relentless storm seemed intent on testing their resolve with every step.

Aeris pushed her wet hair out of her face as she glanced up at the sky. “Maybe we should find somewhere to wait this out. This rain doesn’t look like it’s letting up anytime soon.”

“Agreed,” Vincent said, his deep voice steady but edged with a quiet intensity. His gaze scanned their surroundings, and for a brief moment, Aeris caught something flicker in his eyes—something unsettling, like the shadow of a storm passing behind them. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, leaving her unsure if she’d merely imagined it.

A sudden crack of thunder split the air, so loud it rattled Aeris’ chest. Lightning flashed overhead, turning the world white for half a heartbeat. Aeris flinched, her arms curling close, while Yuffie yelped behind her, slipping on the mud.

“Okay, okay!” the young ninja barked, clawing for balance as rain poured down her face. “Forget hypothermia—we’re gonna end up fried at this rate!”

“There—under the rocks!” Aeris called, pointing ahead, toward a dark overhang barely visible through the downpour.

Yuffie didn’t wait. “Move it, people!” she called, her voice raised over the roar of the rain. She waved them forward with one hand, her dark hair plastered to her forehead. 

Vincent’s steps slowed, lifting his eyes toward the sky. He stopped walking, letting the rain streak down his face as he stood still against the downpour. A violet flash of lightning illuminated his sharp features, carving shadows across his face. 

“Storms don’t just pass,” he said under his breath, almost absently, “they leave wreckage.”

Aeris blinked at the comment, her brow furrowing slightly as she studied him. There was something in his tone—not the usual dryness or stoicism, but something heavier. A quiet unease stirred in her chest, though she couldn’t quite put it into words. She opened her mouth to ask, but Yuffie interrupted, already trudging toward the shelter.

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Positivity,” Yuffie grumbled over her shoulder, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Come on, sunshine, let’s go before the lightning decides to play target practice with us.”

Aeris glanced at Vincent, ready to follow, but she stopped in her tracks. His posture had gone unnaturally still. He tilted his head down slightly, as though listening to something that only he could hear. Then, slowly, his hand moved up to press lightly against his temple, his fingers digging into the side of his head. His breath caught for a moment—a hitch so subtle it might have gone unnoticed—but Aeris saw it. Her heart lurched.

“Vincent?” she asked quietly, her voice laced with concern. She stepped closer to him, lightly touching his arm, her green eyes scanning his face for any sign of pain. “Are you okay?”

He dropped his hand almost immediately, his posture stiffening into something more rigid, more composed. “I’m fine,” he said with crisp finality, his gaze hard as stone and didn’t meet hers.

Aeris’ frown deepened, but before she could press him, Yuffie’s impatient voice rang out from up ahead.

“Oi! You two coming or what?” she called, waving her arm at them as she stood near the edge of the rocky overhang. “I’m not getting struck by lightning because you’re busy having a moment!”

Vincent walked past Aeris without another word, his boots crunching softly against the wet dirt. She followed close behind, her concern still gnawing at her thoughts.

The three of them huddled beneath the rocky overhang, the storm continuing to rage outside. Rain drummed against the rocks above them, and water dripped in steady rivulets from the edges of their shelter. Aeris sat close to Vincent, wringing out the hem of her damp dress, while Yuffie leaned against the wall of the overhang, arms crossed and shivering slightly. Her narrowed eyes darted between the two of them, her expression full of unspoken curiosity.

For a moment, it was quiet—just the sound of the rain drumming against the ground and the low roll of thunder. But Yuffie, never one to let silence linger, tilted her head and smirked.

“Alright, spill it already,” she said, pointing between the two of them with an unmistakable glint of mischief in her eyes. “You two got something going on, don’t you?”

Aeris blinked, her thoughts still tangled in the moment before and couldn’t process Yuffie’s meaning. “Huh?” she asked, her tone caught between surprise and amusement. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, please,” Yuffie said, grinning and shooting her a skeptical look. “Like this whole setup isn’t weird enough already. Vincent Valentine—Mr. Eternal Doom and Gloom—dragging himself on some long, dramatic journey with you? That’s gotta be a headline right there. Then there’s the whole standing-too-close thing, the long glances, the fact that Vincent actually says more than three words when you’re around. And don't even get me started on the backstory!”

Yuffie threw her head back, hands clasped together and pressed dramatically to her heart like she was a heroine in a soap opera. Her voice went dreamy and over-dramatic as she mimed fluttering her eyelashes. “‘He broke into Hojo’s secret lab to save me.’ ” She sighed wistfully, swaying like she was about to swoon. Then, just as quickly, her eyes snapped open and she fixed them both with a knowing look, her grin wicked and far too satisfied. “I’m not blind, you know.” 

Aeris opened her mouth to respond, but Vincent spoke first, his voice quiet but precise enough to cut through Yuffie’s rising incredulity like a blade through silk. “Your instincts are as sharp as ever, Yuffie,” he said with that measured calm only he could pull off. “Yes, we’re married.”

Yuffie froze, blinking rapidly as if trying to process what she’d just heard. “Wait…did you just say you’re married??” she asked, her voice slowly rising as her wide eyes darted between the two of them.

Vincent inclined his head ever so slightly—a subtle, wordless confirmation.

And then it hit her.

Her jaw dropped so hard it was a wonder it didn’t hit the ground. “WHAT?!" she shrieked, scrambling upright so fast she nearly tripped over herself. She pointed wildly at them, her whole body vibrating with disbelief. “YOU'RE MARRIED?!?! You two?! When did this happen?! And WHY wasn't I told?!”

Startled by Yuffie’s outburst but trying to remain composed, Aeris offered a small smile, her expression soft but cautious. “It was kind of a private thing,” she said gently, glancing briefly at Vincent before focusing back on Yuffie.

“PRIVATE?!?!” Yuffie practically screeched, throwing her hands up as though the word itself were a horrible insult. “This isn’t something you keep private! What, you just woke up one morning and decided, ‘Oh yeah, let’s just get hitched and not tell anyone?!’”

Vincent met her indignation with an unflinching gaze. “More or less.”

Yuffie froze, her mouth hanging open in disbelief, her brain clearly struggling to process his response. “What the — are you kidding me?! This is MARRIAGE we’re talking about!! Like, vows and rings and the whole deal! And me? Your favorite ninja?! Not even an invite?!” Her voice wavered for a split second before she caught herself and quickly smoothed her expression into an exaggerated pout. “Do you know what I could’ve done with that news? A cake! Fireworks! Something epic!” 

She stared at the two of them, her expression caught somewhere between shock and betrayal.
“But I see how it is.” She thrust her finger toward Vincent accusingly, her eyes narrowing. “First, you ghost everyone. Then, you two get all cozy behind the scenes. And then you just elope?! ” She threw her arms up, glaring. “What’s next? You secretly run a chocobo farm on the side? Like, come on, Vincent! You didn’t think I’d at least wanna throw confetti or something??”

Vincent’s mouth twitched, and for a split second, Aeris thought she caught the faintest trace of a smirk. “It was...a quiet ceremony,” he said evenly.

To that, Yuffie snorted. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot like a disapproving parent. “Oh, I’ll bet it was. Let me guess: no cake, no dancing, just you two standing in the middle of nowhere being all, ‘I do, I do.’” She pitched her voice low and gravelly, clearly mocking Vincent. “‘Forever bound in eternal darkness, yadda yadda yadda.’”

Trying to stifle a laugh, Aeris clapped a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking as she tried—and failed—not to giggle. Vincent, as ever, looked entirely unbothered, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

Yuffie threw her hands in the air, jabbing a finger at Vincent. “I knew it! You are officially the worst party planner of all time, Valentine.” She let out a dramatic groan, shaking her head as if the weight of his failure was unbearable. “I could’ve thrown you a LEGENDARY wedding! But nooo. You had to go all ‘quiet’ and ‘mysterious.’ Typical.”

The rain and the low rumble of thunder filled the silence that followed, the steady patter on the ground the only sound as her words hung awkwardly in the air. 

Yuffie furrowed her brow as if a lightbulb had just gone off and she suddenly remembered something. Turning to Vincent, she tilted her head, squinting. “Hold up. Weren’t you all, like, super hung up on your ex? That…Lucretia lady or whatever?”

Aeris’ breath caught slightly, as if a thread, unseen but achingly familiar, had tugged hard on her heart. Her green eyes flicked toward Vincent, her expression softening with quiet concern. The mention of Lucrecia hung in the air, and she could feel the weight it carried for him, even now. She glanced down briefly; she hated the reminder of how much pain had shaped the man she loved.

His crimson gaze shifted to Yuffie, slow and deliberate. His voice, when he spoke, was calm but carried an unmistakable heaviness that cut through the sound of the rain. “Her name was Lucrecia,” he corrected quietly, yet firmly. “And she was not my ‘ex.’”

Yuffie froze for a moment, caught off guard by his sudden seriousness. She glanced over at Aeris, then back at Vincent, her curiosity outweighing her usual caution.

"Okay, then what was she? A fling? A situationship? Or what?” 

He exhaled softly, his gaze growing distant. When he spoke, his voice was quieter, almost reflective, but steady. “She was…someone I loved deeply. But we were never together. We were never…an item.” His crimson eyes flicked downward for a moment before he continued, his tone growing heavier. “The circumstances were complicated, and what I felt for her was always clouded by guilt and regret.” His words hung in the air for a long moment, heavy with finality. “That part of my life is over now.”

Aeris’ eyes remained on Vincent. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the edge of his gloved hand before resting lightly over his. The movement was small but deliberate, an offering of comfort without words. He didn’t look at her directly, but his hand shifted slightly beneath hers, his touch steady and grounding.

Yuffie’s sharp eyes caught the motion, and her expression softened for just a second before her usual cheeky grin returned. “Huh. So that’s how it is, huh?” she said, crossing her arms and tilting her head. “Out with the regret, in with the sunshine?” She snorted, unable to resist the jab. “I gotta say, Vincent, I didn’t think you had it in you. Next thing you know, you’ll be cracking jokes and wearing bright colors.” 

Aeris, eager to ease the tension in the air, let out a soft laugh. “Don’t push your luck, Yuffie.”

The latter cackled, clearly enjoying the moment. "Oh, don’t worry, I won’t! I mean, come on—this is Vincent we’re talking about. Baby steps, right? But still…married. I gotta admit, you two make a pretty cute couple. Kinda like opposites attract, y’know? The whole ‘tall, dark, and broody meets sweetpea sunshine’ thing.”

Vincent looked vaguely exasperated, but Aeris smiled warmly, leaning slightly into his shoulder. The rain continued to pour, but the air in the shelter felt lighter now as Yuffie flopped back onto the ground with a dramatic sigh.

"Man, I don’t know what’s crazier—that Vincent Valentine is married, or that I wasn’t invited to the wedding. No, actually, scratch that—the second one’s worse."

Aeris shook her head, smiling in amusement. “Well, now you know. So...does that make it better?”

“No!” Yuffie said, stomping her foot like a petulant child. “You owe me a proper party after this! But don’t worry— I’ve got this all figured out! I’m gonna throw you the best post-wedding bash ever! There’s gonna be fireworks, a cake taller than Vincent, and materia-themed party favors!” She grinned, practically bouncing on her toes now. “I’ll handle everything. You two just show up and look all ‘mysterious couple of destiny’ like you always do.”

Vincent turned to Aeris, one eyebrow lifting slightly as he regarded her with faint skepticism. “‘Mysterious couple of destiny’?” he echoed.

Yuffie folded her arms, her expression smug, clearly pleased with herself. “Yeah! You’ve got the whole vibe. Quiet broody guy, mysterious girl who knows things nobody else does—it’s like you guys walked straight out of, like, a depressing opera or something.”

Aeris blinked, surprised for a moment by the way Yuffie had phrased it. She wasn’t used to being described in such dramatic terms—it felt like something that might have been said about the real Aeris, not her. The words tugged at her briefly. Mysterious girl who knows things nobody else does. Was that her? Or was that the real Aeris, whose memories and legacy she carried? 

Yuffie, however, wasn’t done yet. She jabbed a finger at Vincent again, her expression exaggeratedly serious. “But here’s the real question, Valentine. Are you at least taking her on dates? Romantic ones? Flowers, dinners, the works. She’s your wife now. You better not be skipping the fun stuff.”

Vincent’s crimson gaze shifted toward her, his tone calm, but a quiet sharpness cut through each word. “That’s none of your business.”

Yuffie gasped like he’d just committed a grave sin, and she clutched her chest with both hands, pure mock outrage written all over her face.

“Well, excuse me, Lord of Secrets!” she huffed, narrowing her eyes at him. “I’m just trying to make sure that ‘doom and gloom’ isn’t your whole personality.”

She leaned forward, her grin returning, sharp as ever. “Seriously, though. All that bottled-up brooding you do? One day, it’s all gonna come bursting out—and I don’t wanna be in the blast zone!” She jabbed a thumb at herself, as if she were the victim-in-waiting. “So, do us all a favor, huh? Take her to a festival. Make her laugh. Buy her flowers and pretty jewelry.” Yuffie leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a mock-whisper. “You know, normal husband things. ”

Vincent didn’t even glance her way this time. “Noted,” he said flatly, as if filing it away under ‘Things I Will Absolutely Ignore.’

Aeris, who had been trying to keep her composure, burst into laughter, covering her mouth with her hand, her shoulders shaking. Her green eyes sparkled with mirth and fondness as she glanced at Vincent. “You hear that, love? Normal husband things,” she teased, her voice light with affection.

Yuffie grinned triumphantly, hands on her hips like she’d just won the argument. “Exactly! Listen to your wife, Valentine. She’s got good sense.”

Vincent tilted his head slightly toward Aeris, his gaze softening just a fraction as he regarded her. “She usually does,” he murmured.

Aeris’ cheeks warmed at the unexpected compliment, and she leaned into him, her smile soft and unguarded. Yuffie, of course, caught this and threw her head back with a loud, exaggerated groan.

“Oh, great. Now you’re being sweet,” she griped, dragging a hand down her face like she was physically pained. “This is so much worse than the brooding. I’m gonna hurl.”

Aeris merely chuckled as Yuffie mumbled something about weirdos being gross.

The rain began to ease, the heavy downpour shifting into a gentle drizzle. Aeris glanced outside, the soft sound of raindrops on leaves catching her attention, and the thunder had long since passed. She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Looks like we can keep moving soon.”

“Good,” Vincent said and promptly rose, shaking off his damp cloak and brushing away stray droplets. “I’ve had enough fanfare for one day.”

Yuffie gasped, feigning offense as she slung her shuriken over her shoulder. “Fanfare? Fanfare?! Please. I’m just getting started, Valentine! Wait 'til I throw you a real party — confetti, fireworks, dancing. You won’t stand a chance!”

Vincent didn’t speak, already stepping out into the rain, but Aeris caught the faintest twitch of his lips. She hurried after him, glancing back at Yuffie, who was still muttering indignantly about "ungrateful vampires" and their "complete inability to appreciate a good time."

“You’re a good sport,” Aeris said quietly to Vincent as she caught up to him, her tone full of affection.

“Only when necessary,” he replied dryly, though the warmth in his gaze as he glanced at her said otherwise.

Aeris smiled, her tone softening into something thoughtful. “I like her, though,” she admitted quietly, glancing back toward Yuffie, who was still muttering to herself. “She’s sweet. And funny.”

Vincent tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicked toward Aeris. For a moment, he didn’t answer, his face as stoic as always. But then, the faintest flicker of amusement crossed his features. “She’s...persistent,” he said at last, his voice low but laced with the barest hint of dry humor. “That much I’ll grant her.”

Aeris chuckled softly, leaning just a little closer as they walked. “Well, I think persistence runs in good company,” she teased lightly, brushing her shoulder against his.

His stride didn’t falter, but his gaze shifted toward her again, softer this time, and his voice quieter. “I’ve noticed.”

They continued their trek upward. The trail wound steeply into the rugged terrain, each step more grueling than the last. Aeris felt the burn in her legs and the persistent pangs of hunger gnawing at her, her thoughts clinging to the promise of a hot meal and a soft bed. Jagged rocks and stubborn shrubs lined the dusty path, which seemed to stretch endlessly before them.

They crossed train tracks spanning narrow bridges and followed the rails for a time, their footsteps echoing faintly in the empty expanse. The pale gray sky cast a muted light over the mountains, and the stifling heat of the day gave way to a growing chill that settled over the air.

A faint unease crept up Aeris’ spine as she glanced at the path ahead. It was close to dusk, and the thought of being caught in the mountains after nightfall left her stomach twisting. She forced herself to keep moving, even as her legs protested with every step, the rhythmic crunch of gravel beneath her boots becoming an endless drone.

Somewhere ahead, Yuffie’s bright, animated voice cut through the stillness, her chatter tumbling over itself with bursts of laughter. Aeris couldn’t make out the words, but the energetic rhythm of Yuffie’s voice clashed with Vincent’s quiet, measured replies, his tone barely audible over the wind whispering through the mountain pass. Aeris smiled faintly, letting them talk while she focused on the path ahead.

But the unease wouldn’t leave her. The absence of birdsong pressed on her mind, and as they climbed higher, the vegetation grew brittle and withered, the life seemingly drained from it. She tightened her grip on the strap of her satchel and pushed forward, yet the heavy silence of the mountains felt watchful, as though unseen eyes lingered in the shadows.

“Hey, you guys smell that?” Yuffie’s voice cut through the silence. “We must be close!”

Smoke curled into the sky in thin, uneven plumes, its acrid scent carried on the wind as Aeris, Vincent, and Yuffie approached North Corel. The town’s usual stillness was replaced by the hum of nervous voices, people gathering in clusters near the entrance. It didn’t appear to be a celebration or cheerful gathering. Rather, there was a palpable tension thick in the air; people were obviously on edge. 

Aeris’ green eyes scanned the crowd. “What happened here?” she murmured. 

Vincent’s gaze swept over the scene, his expression tightening as he noted the signs of chaos: overturned carts, scorch marks on the ground, and the air was heavy with agitation. A flicker of unease stirred deep within him, but he pushed it down.

Aeris caught fragments of hushed conversations: 

“We’re lucky it was just the one!” 

“It’s because of that damn reactor, I’m tellin’ ya!”

“What if it comes back!? What then!?”

Yuffie crossed her arms, her grin replaced by a more serious look. “Looks like we showed up just in time for the fireworks,” she said, though there was a note of unease in her voice.

Aeris turned to Vincent, her expression both worried and resolute. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Do you feel it too?”

Vincent’s eyes shifted to her; she caught a flicker of hesitation in them, and the tension in his posture. He studied her for a moment before he spoke. His voice was quiet but firm. “I feel…something.” He glanced toward the thin plumes of smoke rising from the town. “But whatever caused this…we’ll find out soon enough.”

Chapter Text

The settlement of North Corel was a stark contrast to the lively Costa del Sol—bleak, dusty, and filled with the mingled scent of coal smoke and the acrid stench of burning materials that had no business being on fire. As the trio stepped off the path and into the center of town, they found a small crowd gathered at the edge of the settlement, murmuring anxiously among themselves. The tension in the air was thick, the unease palpable, and pieces of frantic conversation reached their ears:

“Another attack like that, and we’re done for,” an older man lamented.

“Isn’t there anyone who can stop this?” a woman asked, her voice taut with worry.

Yuffie frowned, gripping her shuriken a little tighter. “What’s going on here?” she muttered, glancing between Aeris and Vincent.

Aeris stepped closer to the crowd, her green eyes scanning their worried faces. “Excuse me,” she said gently to a weary-looking miner. “What happened?”

The man, whose face was streaked with soot and fear, glanced at her with wide eyes. “Monster,” he said with a shaking voice. “Big one. Bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. We managed to fight it off, but…not before it left a mess behind,” he said, gesturing to the smoke and the wreckage. Aeris surveyed the aftermath: collapsed walls, shattered windows, and the deep claw marks gouged into the earth. 

Vincent’s hand instinctively moved toward his gun. “Where did it come from?” he asked.

The miner hesitated for a moment. “The mountains,” he said finally. “Some folks say it’s the Lifestream acting up. Well, I dunno. Whatever it is, it ain’t natural.”

“Any casualties?” asked Vincent.

“None yet,” confirmed the man, shaking his head. "But plenty of folks got hurt."

Aeris glanced around the village, taking in the withered landscape. The earth was dry and cracked, the sparse trees shedding their yellowing leaves as if surrendering to an unseen blight. She had noticed the signs on their way here: the lifeless terrain and the unsettling absence of birdsong. But here, standing in the heart of the village, it felt even worse. The air was thick and heavy in a way she couldn’t quite place, pressing against her skin like the weight of an impending storm. The ground beneath her feet, though dry, hummed with a weak, unnatural warmth, sending a faint prickle up her spine. In the distance, a group of villagers emerged from a small building—what she assumed was the infirmary. Some of them were wrapped in bandages, their movements sluggish with exhaustion. 

Just as she turned her head, a sudden, sharp throb pulsed behind her eyes. She winced, pressing her fingers to her temple as the headache flared. 

"Something’s very wrong with this place," she murmured absently to Vincent and Yuffie, glancing around uneasily and clutching her head. 

Yuffie snorted at her comment. “Uh, yeah? No kidding! A monster just redecorated the whole town...with its claws.” 

Aeris shook her head. "It’s more than that." She lifted her gaze to Vincent. "Do you feel it too?"

He narrowed his eyes as he looked toward the mountains, silent for a moment. Then he nodded solemnly. "I do."

Yuffie merely crossed her arms, frowning. "Yeah, me too. A deep, ominous rumbling…" She placed a hand over her stomach and sighed dramatically. "That says this place is seriously lacking snacks."

She stretched her arms over her head, already turning away as though losing interest in the conversation. "So, are we gonna go find some grub, or stand around?"

The weary trio continued through town in search of an inn, the usual hum of daily life was muted and uneasy. The smell of smoke and scorched wood still lingered in the air, and though repairs had already begun, signs of the recent attack were everywhere. Fallen fences, clawed-up walls, and some shattered windows hastily boarded over.

A few villagers were gathered near a supply cart, talking in hushed tones while they sorted through salvageable materials.

"Damn thing gutted half the town before we drove ‘im off," an older man muttered, lifting a bundle of wooden planks onto his shoulder. "Lucky we had help. Barret and his crew showed up just in time.”

“Yeah,” a woman added, “they’re still out there, cleaning up the mess."

Vincent and Yuffie exchanged a glance at the mention of Barret. A faint unease coiled in Aeris’ stomach, restless and nameless, but she didn’t quite know why.

They continued down the dusty path. A group of older children ran past, laughing and shouting to each other. One of them—a red-haired girl—nearly collided with Aeris, muttered a quick apology, and hurried after the others.

Aeris barely had time to register the encounter before the girl glanced back at her, just for a second. It wasn’t the usual curious look a stranger might give. It was something else, but she couldn’t identify it. 

Before she could dwell on it, the girl rounded a corner and disappeared.

She frowned slightly. That was…odd.

But she shook the thought away and focused on the task at hand. Finding the inn. She approached a nearby villager and asked for directions, and soon enough, they were on their way toward a wooden two-story building further down the road. As they walked, snippets of conversation from a group of locals caught Aeris’ attention.

"Another one fell ill last night," a man muttered. "But Doc says he’s examined him and can’t find anything wrong. Test results came back clean, too."

"So then…what the hell is it?"

"Hell if I know, I ain’t no doctor! But he’s been delirious with a fever; raving and seeing things. Keeps going on about ‘the end of the world’."

"Like that crazy old man Joe," a middle aged woman added gravely, planting her hands firmly on her hips. "He’s been holed up in that house of his for weeks now. Barely eats, won’t talk to nobody. I swear, it’s like he’s lost his damn mind."

A wiry man in a dusty cap shook his head and chimed in. “Ever since he came back from the mountains with that shiny rock of his. Claims it’s some big find. I told him it was trouble—betcha it’s cursed or sumthin’.”

Yuffie froze mid-step, and her face lit up with excitement. “Wait, wait, wait...shiny rock?” she blurted and spun on her heel to face the villagers. “You mean materia , right? An old prospector found some materia in the mountains? That’s gotta be it!” She turned back to Aeris and Vincent, grinning from ear to ear. “See? I told you there was materia here! I knew the rumors weren’t just hot air!”

The woman raised an eyebrow at Yuffie, looking her up and down. “Rumors, huh? So you’re one of those treasure hunters?”

"Treasure? This isn’t just treasure, lady,” Yuffie said, bouncing on her heels. “It’s materia. The good stuff. So where’s this Old Man Joe guy live? I just wanna talk to him.” She clasped her hands together dramatically. “Please?”

The man in the dusty cap let out a bark of laughter. “Good luck with that, kid,” he said with a shake of his head. “Old Joe’s not exactly the chatty type these days. Stubborn as a mule and twice as mean when he’s riled up. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t chase you off his porch with a shotgun.”

“Why? What’s his deal?” Aeris asked softly, frowning.

The woman sighed and her expression turned somber. “He’s not well, honey. Barely leaves his house anymore. Keeps muttering to himself about his ‘rock.’ Won’t let anyone near it. Poor man’s losing his mind.”

“It’s cursed, I tell ya,” the man muttered darkly. “Or it’s messing with his head somehow. The way he clings to it...it ain’t right.”

Vincent’s gaze flicked toward Aeris, his expression as impassive as always, but the look in his eyes was enough to send a chill down her spine. “If the materia is causing harm,” he said quietly, “we need to investigate.”

Yuffie merely waved a hand dismissively at such a claim. “Oh, come on. It’s not cursed. It’s just materia! Maybe it’s special, though. You never know until you see it up close.” Her grin widened as she cheerfully adjusted the shuriken strapped to her back. “Let’s go. Old Man Joe and his shiny rock aren’t gonna wait forever!”

Aeris hesitated, glancing toward the villagers. Something about the way they spoke—about the worry in their voices—sent an uneasy shiver through her. Her head continued to throb. She exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to her temple, willing the feeling to pass. 

She gripped the strap of her satchel tightly. It wasn’t just her head; she finally felt the ache of her whole body after the long hike (particularly her legs), and the hunger pangs. The past week with its intense, restless nights had also caught up to her. Her legs almost buckled beneath her, unable to carry her much farther. She stumbled slightly when for just a moment, she blacked out. Vincent was already moving before she could catch herself. His hand was at her elbow, firm, steady, like he had expected this to happen long before she did. 

"Are you alright?" His voice was low and measured, but there was no mistaking the concern beneath it.

Aeris stiffened. For a split second, her instinct was to pull away.

I should be stronger than this, she told herself. I should be able to keep moving.

She swallowed, clenching her jaw as she forced herself to ignore the trembling in her legs, the ache settling deep in her bones. She didn’t want to lean on him. Didn’t want him to see her like this.

But…she did need the support.

Her fingers tightened briefly against his, just for a second. Just long enough to steady herself.

Vincent felt it. He said nothing, but his hand remained, firm and unwavering, until she was sure of her footing again. His gaze bore into her, sharp and searching.

Aeris' lips parted, but for a moment, no sound came. "I…"

She exhaled slowly, then forced a small, tired smile. "I’m fine," she murmured, but her voice was softer now, quieter. Like even she didn’t quite believe it.

She hesitated, then finally admitted, “…But I don’t think my legs can carry me much farther.”

He wasn’t surprised. He had noticed it hours ago—the slow drag in her steps, the way her shoulders sagged under a weight she wouldn’t acknowledge. She never complained, never admitted how exhausted she was, but he saw the signs. The way she rubbed her temples when she thought no one was looking. How she blinked too long, as if she were forcing herself to stay present. She was pushing herself too hard—again.

And he had let her. 

He silently berated himself for it; he should have stopped her sooner.

He studied her face for a long moment. “No surprise,” he admitted at length, “It’s been a long day. You should rest.”

Aeris nodded in agreement and forced a tired smile to her lips when her eyes met his. 

Vincent then glanced at Yuffie. "Materia hunting can wait till tomorrow."

The ninja had only been half-listening up until then, but perked up at the mention of materia.

“Aww, man! But…I guess that’s fair”, she accepted with a shrug. “Can’t go hunting materia on an empty stomach anyway,” she said, stretching her arms behind her head. Then, grinning, she took a step back. “Alright! You two find us a place to crash, and I’ll go hunt down some grub. And maybe —just maybe —I’ll share.”

Aeris huffed a tired laugh, shaking her head, and Vincent gave Yuffie a significant look—the kind that was more expectation than request, as if to say ‘Make good choices’. 

"Don’t wander too far," he cautioned. "If someone watches you too long, assume they have a motive. And don’t pick a fight you can’t win."

Staring at him for a moment, Yuffie pulled a face and let out a loud, exaggerated sigh. "Geez, what are you, my dad? Relax, I’ll be fine!"

He ignored her quip, his face betraying nothing. The girl merely gave them both a cheeky salute before darting off into the village, already looking for trouble.

As Aeris watched Yuffie disappear into the village, she gave Vincent a knowing, tired smile. "Something tells me she’s going to do the exact opposite of what you said."

Vincent sighed. "It wouldn’t be the first time."

He turned back to Aeris, still watching her carefully. She met his gaze, but the exhaustion pressing down on her was impossible to hide now, settling over her like a weight too heavy to bear—and he saw it.

"Come," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Let’s find a place for you to rest."

Aeris gave a weary nod, and he adjusted his grip on her elbow, steady and sure, leading her forward.

It wasn’t long before they reached the inn; a two-story wooden structure that had somehow emerged unscathed from the attack. While nearby buildings bore the scars of the monster’s rampage, this one stood eerily untouched, without so much as a claw mark. Inside, the dimly lit lobby was anything but quiet. Every chair and armchair was occupied, villagers and travelers huddled around small wooden tables, speaking in low, urgent tones. The muted dark green wallpaper did little to brighten the space, and the flickering lamplight cast long shadows across the walls. Behind the modest front desk, a taxidermy eagle was mounted to the wall, its glassy eyes catching the dim glow, adding an almost forlorn touch to the already somber atmosphere. The air carried the weight of hushed conversations, heavy with tension, as people murmured about the attack, their voices blending into a restless hum.

When Vincent spoke to the front desk clerk, it was to his relief that they still had one free room—but only with two beds. They didn’t have much of a choice, and took it. It’s not like any of them expected comfort in a place like this. Aeris only half-listened, hovering nearby absently, looking around the lobby at the people engaged in their own private conversations. 

Once everything was paid for and the room key was received, Yuffie showed up again, swinging a bag in one hand and sighing dramatically.

"Okay, so fun fact: Corel? Not a culinary paradise. It’s basically sandwiches…or, get this: more sandwiches." Yuffie huffed. "Real creative, guys. Anyway, I hope you guys like ham and cheese."

Then, her expression brightened as she dug into the bag. "Oh! And I also got us some candy!" She grinned excitedly, pulling out a brightly wrapped sweet about the size of a grape. "Not just any candy! These!"

She held it up proudly, her eyes shining with nostalgia. The foil crinkled between her fingers, a deep, shimmering red with golden script scrawled across it. "Materia Pops! Man, I haven’t had these since I was a kid! They were my absolute favorite!" She practically bounced on her heels. "They used to sell these in Wutai in these little cloth pouches. Each one was a different materia color. The red one is cherry, green’s kiwi, yellow’s lemon—you get the idea. And they tingle when you eat ‘em! Seriously, best candy ever."

She unwrapped one, popped it into her mouth, and let out a satisfied hum as the candy audibly crackled and fizzed on her tongue. "Mmm. Tastes like nostalgia and bad life choices."

Aeris let out a soft laugh and shook her head.

Yuffie caught it and pulled a face. "What? Don’t tell me you didn’t have a favorite candy when you were a kid!"

Silence.

Aeris froze. She looked away, her fingers tensing slightly where they rested on the strap of her bag. A strange tightness coiled in her chest. The question hung in the air, so simple and so harmless. Yet it pressed against a wound she couldn’t explain. It was an ache without a name; a hollow space where something significant should have been. She had no answer to give Yuffie. No childhood to reach for. No memories or nostalgia. Nothing but silence.

It was subtle—the flicker of hesitation, the faint shift in her expression—but Vincent, standing nearby, caught it instantly. So did Yuffie. Her grin vanished when realization struck.

“Oh.” She looked away, rubbing the back of her head, her face heating in embarrassment. “Right. Damn. Uh...sorry. That was dumb.”

Aeris blinked once, then forced a small smile, smoothing a hand over the strap of her bag.

"It’s okay," she murmured, but her voice came out quieter than before, and she wasn’t sure she meant it.

Vincent looked between the two but didn’t say anything.

Yuffie cleared her throat, rocking on her heels. "Uh—anyway,” she tried to sound more cheery and change the subject, “we gonna stand here all night, or are we going to check out this amazing sandwich-filled future of ours?"

As the three of them were about to head upstairs to find their room, the inn’s front door creaked open, and a scrawny man in dusty clothes stepped inside. He rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a heavy sigh as he turned to an older man following close behind.

"If we had more men who actually knew how to handle a gun, we might’ve stood a damn chance," he muttered bitterly. "Half of us could barely aim straight. It was a damn mess."

He shook his head, then frowned slightly, as if just realizing something. "Hey…what happened to the other gunman, anyway? I forget his name. The one in the trench coat...the albino guy? Haven’t seen him since the attack."

Aeris and Vincent both froze. Their eyes met in silent understanding. Vincent’s expression didn’t change, but something in his stance shifted; a barely noticeable tension. Aeris gripped the strap of her satchel tighter.

There couldn’t have been many men that fit the description other than him . 

Davoren.

But before either of them could say anything, Yuffie stiffened. "Oh, hell no!" she blurted, eyes widening. "'Albino guy'?? Don’t tell me he’s here!"

Aeris and Vincent looked at each other, now even more surprised and puzzled. Something in Yuffie’s expression changed. Aeris couldn’t quite tell if it was nerves, irritation, or something else. She couldn’t ask before Yuffie suddenly snatched the room key from Vincent’s hand, spun on her heel, and bolted for the stairs. She practically flew up them.

The pair watched her go for half a second before following, exchanging another perplexed glance as they ascended after her.

Upstairs, the hallway was narrow, dimly lit, and lined with creaky wooden doors. Their room was located at the far end. It was a simple room with a sloping ceiling, a window, a dark armchair in one corner, and two beds separated by a small night stand with a lamp. 

Yuffie had already plopped herself onto one of the beds, removing her sandals. She dug through the supply bag and pulled out a sandwich, unwrapped it, and took a huge bite without hesitation.

Aeris paused and just watched her, curious. She wanted to ask, but her stomach won out over her questions when Vincent passed her a sandwich. He grabbed one for himself, then made himself comfortable in the armchair while Aeris sat herself next to Yuffie.

For a few minutes, they all sat in silence, the only sound the occasional rustling of paper and quiet chewing.

The silence stretched. 

It lingered.

When Aeris finished her sandwich, she shifted a bit and exhaled as she turned her head toward Yuffie. Her voice was quiet and heavy with fatigue, but laced with curiosity.

"Hey, Yuffie?" she ventured. "Down in the lobby…what was that about?”

Yuffie paused mid-chew, eyes flicking to Aeris. "I’m sorry about the candy thing, okay? Really! I forgot!"

“Not that. About the…‘albino guy’. You seem to know who they were talking about."

Yuffie’s expression shifted from apologetic to deeply unimpressed as she scowled, still chewing. "Ugh. Yeah." 

She swallowed, then jabbed a thumb toward Vincent. "Y’know how you have your whole ‘mysterious ex-Turk’ thing going on?" She gestured vaguely. "Yeah, well, this guy’s like that—but worse."

Aeris and Vincent exchanged a glance again.

"He’s all polite and weirdly charming,” she ranted, “like, too charming. But also creepy with his weird pink eyes. And way too chatty. Ugh, he just talks and talks.”

Vincent said nothing, but Aeris caught the trace of something indiscernible in his expression as he was taking in Yuffie’s words. There was no mistaking it from her description: she was indeed talking about Davoren.

"He’s a Turk, right?" Yuffie continued, looking at Vincent now. "Or was. Like you. Except I can actually believe he was one, ‘cause he’s got that whole ‘I know something you don’t’ attitude. Makes me wanna kick him in the shin."

Aeris frowned slightly. "How do you figure he was a Turk?" 

Yuffie scoffed and gave her a look. "Wow, yeah, real mystery there. Please. Dude reeks of it! Same weird, cryptic vibes as tall, dark, and gloomy over here—except way more annoying." She again jabbed a thumb in Vincent’s direction. "Once a Turk, always a Turk, right?"

Vincent, who sat leaning back in the armchair with arms crossed, remained silent and just listened. Aeris pressed her lips together, thoughtful. She sensed more beneath her words, beneath the annoyance. Something akin to embarrassment perhaps? But she couldn’t be too sure.  

She tilted her head slightly, watching Yuffie’s frown deepen. "You really don’t like him, huh? So, what actually happened?" 

Yuffie let out an exasperated sigh. "It’s not like that! I mean, yeah, he’s annoying as hell, but it’s not just that." She hesitated for a moment, then grumbled, "Ugh, okay, fine. I’ll just say it."

She leaned back a bit, stretching her arms behind her head as she recounted, "A while back, I was, y'know, just doing my thing. Looking for some cool, high-quality materia—"

"Stealing," Vincent corrected flatly without looking at her.

Yuffie glared at him. "Acquiring. Borrowing. Whatever. Point is, I had my eyes on this stash of some really fancy-looking bullets. I mean, they looked unique and expensive, so I figured—sweet, I could sell them and get some good Gil for them!”

Aeris gave a small hum of acknowledgement, her eyelids feeling heavier by the second. It took much strength to stay present and listen, but she really wanted to hear how this story ended.

Vincent tilted his head slightly. “And then you got caught.”

"Not just that," Yuffie continued, "but like an idiot, I tripped on my own damn feet...twisted my ankle real bad." She crossed her arms, frowning at the memory, her face and ears going slightly red. "And instead of turning me in, he gets all concerned, like, ‘Oh no, you’re hurt, kid? Let me help you’—ugh, so condescending! And then he actually helps me. Like, wraps my ankle, gives me water, and then...then he starts talking .”

Aeris blinked slowly. “Wait…he helped you…and you’re upset about that?”

Yuffie frowned. "That’s not the point! The point is, he wouldn’t shut up!” She threw up her hands. "He let me go, didn’t even report me, but nooo, that wasn’t enough. He had to go full Dad Mode and start lecturing me! ‘You’ve got talent, why waste it?’ ‘You could do better than this.’ ‘Stealing’s bad, kiddo, you don’t wanna go down that road.’ Blah blah blah."

She groaned, rubbing her temples. "Like I need two broody ex-Turks lecturing me about life choices! Like, seriously?! I’m a ninja! This is what we do. It’s just who I am!”

She turned sharply, jabbing a finger toward Aeris and Vincent. "You guys get it, right? Some people just are the way they are. You can’t just…change what you are."

Aeris stilled. She opened her mouth to speak, then refrained. Something in Yuffie’s words unsettled her—a sharp, unexpected echo of her own unspoken fears. She swallowed. It shouldn’t have, but the words struck a very, very sensitive cord.

Some people just are the way they are. 

You can’t change what you are.

Vincent finally stirred, breaking the silence. "People change," he said simply. His gaze fell to the floor and he frowned when he added, in a bit more reflective tone, "Whether they want to or not."

Yuffie raised an eyebrow at his comment, then scoffed and crossed her arms. "Yeah, well...whatever. " She cast him a sideways glance. "So? How do you guys know him anyway?"

Vincent met Aeris’ gaze briefly before turning back to Yuffie. "He was a Turk," he said evenly. "Back when I was one."

Yuffie blinked in astonishment. "Wait—for real?? So you guys actually worked together??"

Vincent’s expression remained unreadable. "A long time ago." He hesitated for only a moment before adding, "Hojo got to him, too."

The girl’s smirk faltered, her arms loosening slightly across her chest. "Oh." She shifted, looking away as if suddenly uncomfortable. Then, she exhaled loudly, shaking it off. "Man, is there anyone that crazy psycho didn’t screw up?"

No one responded. They already knew the answer.

The silence that followed was heavy. Aeris swallowed against the lingering tightness in her throat, but it didn’t go away.

Yuffie groaned, rubbing her temples again. "Whatever. Point is, he’s annoying, and I’m not a fan."

She flopped backward on her bed, arms sprawled out. "And I really hope he’s not still here."

If he had been here, Aeris thought, then did that mean they might cross paths with him? She didn’t know how to feel about an eventual reunion with the man who had been both her and Vincent’s tormentor and savior. It was a conflicting mess of emotions; a strange tangle of hope and dread.

But she could no longer dwell on such things. 

She felt her body growing heavier, sinking into the mattress. She wanted to add something to the conversation, maybe ask for more information, but exhaustion finally overpowered her, and she was helpless against its tyranny. 

Yuffie glanced over at her, and her usual smirk softened just slightly. "Hey. Get some sleep, will ya? You look like you’re about to keel over."

She was right. Aeris made a soft sound of agreement, already half-drifting. 

As the room fell quiet, Vincent stood and dimmed the lantern. Yuffie muttered something under her breath, but Aeris didn’t catch it. She barely noticed when the last of the light faded, her mind already slipping into the darkness of sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. 

Just as fast as she had fallen asleep was she awake again.

Sleep wouldn’t come easily, now when she needed it most. 

Aeris lay on her side, curled beneath the stiff blanket, eyes closed, but her thoughts wouldn’t quiet. 

Her body ached from the long journey, exhaustion pressing against her limbs, but it wasn’t enough. Her mind kept circling back to the whispers, the visions, the sense of wrongness that had been growing since she set foot in this village. And somewhere, in the distant, unreachable corners of her mind, she swore she felt something watching. 

Or not something. Someone. 

A constant looming presence that found a way to torment her every time she fell asleep.

She pressed her palms over her eyes, as if that could block out the thoughts clawing at her skull. She turned over to her other side, letting her tired body sink deeper into the mattress. And then—

“…Aeris.”

Her eyes snapped open. She froze, forgot to breathe, every muscle going rigid.

The room was dark. She strained her ears, waiting—but the voice didn’t come again. She exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. 

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

She swallowed, curling her fingers into the rough fabric of the blanket.

It felt different this time. Not like a thought or an echo inside her mind. But she could have sworn it had been in the room.

She turned her head slowly until her gaze found Vincent in the darkness. 

He sat motionless in the armchair with his eyes closed, head tilted slightly downward, and arms crossed over his chest. Whether he was truly asleep or just lost in thought, she couldn’t tell.

Yuffie was fast asleep as well. Nothing stirred in the room. Nothing but the lingering sense that something had just been here.

She exhaled softly, her eyes drifting toward the ceiling as she rolled onto her back.

Am I imagining things?

And yet, that presence clung to her like a shadow—unshakable, inescapable. His voice curled around her mind, venomous and persistent, like a bad memory refusing to fade.

"Time to wake up from that pretty little dream you’ve built for yourself."

The words slithered through her thoughts like a whisper, unbidden, unwelcome.

"It’s you who doesn’t belong here. None of this does."

"This place isn’t real, and neither are you."

Aeris clenched her fists and released a shaky exhale.

What does he want from me? she thought bitterly, her eyes fixed on the dark ceiling. Aeris is dead. He killed her. I’m not her, and he doesn’t even know me. So why won’t he leave me alone?

But at the edges of her mind, something gnawed at her. A whisper of doubt—soft but relentless.

What if he knew something she didn’t?

What if there was truth in his words?

What if…

For a moment, she forgot to breathe. She pressed a hand against her chest, feeling the anxious pound of her own heartbeat beneath her palm.

She suddenly remembered Cloud’s warning. “The closer you get to these memories, the stronger Sephiroth’s influence might become,” he had admonished. “He has a way of finding cracks, slipping through when you least expect it.”

Have I really let him live in my head rent-free?

Her stomach twisted.

Or…is this something worse?

A soft snore from across the room broke the silence.

Yuffie had knocked out early, and Aeris watched her sprawled across her bed, snoring softly into her pillow, one arm dangling over the side. She envied how easily Yuffie could sleep, unaware of the things lurking in the dark.

In the corner, Vincent sat motionless in the armchair, silent as ever, but she saw how his fingers twitched against the armrest. She realized then that she wasn’t the only one struggling to sleep.

Something had been off about him all day. That strange, distant look in his eyes on the mountain. The cryptic remark about storms leaving wreckage in their wake. The way he had been watching her—not overtly, but she had felt it. His gaze flickering toward her when he thought she didn’t see it.

He wasn’t just being protective. It was something else.

Another minute passed in silence until Vincent moved.

It was sudden, but deliberate. He rose smoothly from the chair, his long coat shifting around him as he crossed the room toward the door. Aeris watched as he reached for the handle and pulled it open soundlessly, slipping out of the room.

Aeris hesitated for half a second before pushing back the blanket and sitting up. The wooden floor was cold beneath her bare feet as she stepped forward.

By the time she was downstairs and outside, Vincent was already a few steps ahead, standing near the edge of the inn’s porch, staring out into the darkened streets of Corel. His posture was rigid, shoulders squared, every muscle taut like a wire pulled too tight.

The night air was cool against her skin, the scent of lingering smoke still clinging to the ruins. The town was quiet now, save for the occasional bark of a dog in the distance or the whisper of wind over the cracked earth.

Vincent didn’t turn when she approached.

"Vincent?"

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, without looking at her, his voice came—low and even. Controlled, like a man holding something back with white-knuckled restraint.

"You need to go back inside."

Aeris frowned, stepping closer. "Vincent, what—"

That’s when she noticed it. The gleam of his claw caught the faint lamplight, and for a moment, the sharp fingers twitched, just barely. Then stilled. The sound was soft—a click of metal tightening involuntarily. A reflex.

Something was wrong.

And then, for a second, he hesitated. Aeris saw the way his fingers curled slightly at his sides, the way his shoulders stiffened. As if he was about to turn toward her.

But the moment passed.

Without another word, Vincent turned his back to her completely.

"I said go back inside."

Aeris swallowed, feeling her pulse thrumming in her throat. Something cold threaded through her spine. 

It wasn’t just a command. It was a warning. Not just for her, but for himself.

Aeris bit her lip and exhaled, crossing her arms over her chest in a self-soothing motion. She searched for something in his posture, his expression—anything that might give her even a hint of what was wrong. But he betrayed absolutely nothing. There was only silence.

She loitered anxiously for just a moment longer, watching him. He still didn't move. With a quiet sigh of resignation, she turned and reached for the door handle. Her hand hovered there for a few seconds. 

“…Goodnight, Vincent.”

With that, she returned inside.

As she quietly headed up the stairs, staring ahead, heart pounding for reasons she didn’t quite understand, she knew that neither of them would be sleeping tonight.

Chapter Text

Aeris had drifted in and out of restless half-sleep, never fully awake, yet never fully lost to unconsciousness. The night had passed in a blur of half-formed dreams and the persistent weight of something unresolved. The dim light of dawn crept through the shutters. She lay there staring at the ceiling, feeling as though she hadn’t slept at all.

The room was quiet, save for the soft rhythm of Yuffie’s breathing. Aeris sat up slowly, careful not to disturb her. Across the room, Vincent’s chair was empty.

She exhaled, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and slipped on her boots. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet as she made her way to the door. The hallway smelled faintly of wood and candle smoke, the inn still steeped in the hush of early morning.

By the time she stepped outside, the morning chill kissed her skin, sending a brief shiver down her spine. The village was waking. 

But Vincent was nowhere to be seen.

She hesitated on the inn’s porch, rubbing her arms against the cold as she scanned the streets. They were already filling with movement. A blacksmith wiped soot from his brow, hammering at a warped piece of metal. Merchants unrolled their tarps, stacking goods onto wooden carts. A woman dusted off a windowsill, pausing to glance warily toward the mountains, as if expecting trouble.

Coal and sweat thickened the air, undercut by the faintest trace of freshly baked bread. 

Aeris walked slowly through the town, her boots kicking up small puffs of dust as she wandered without direction, her thoughts heavy from another restless night. 

The veil of night had masked the truth, but in the stark light of day, the harsh reality stood exposed. Now, in daylight, Corel’s wounds lay bare—not just the monster’s destruction, but the ruin left behind years ago. 

People were sleeping outside, covered in thin blankets, their bodies curled beneath makeshift shelters. 

Refugees. Travelers. People displaced and desperate, clinging to whatever they could.

She exhaled slowly, a quiet ache settling in her chest. 

It was a scene of survival, not of living.

Some had built makeshift shelters out of tarps and wooden crates, while others had no cover at all, their thin blankets barely keeping out the morning chill. Families huddled together on the hard-packed dirt, parents curled protectively around their children. A mother sat propped against a wooden crate, her arms wrapped around a sleeping boy, his tiny fingers curled in the fabric of her coat. Nearby, a man stirred the embers of a dying fire, heating water in a dented pot while two others spoke in hushed tones, their voices carrying a quiet edge of exhaustion.

She kept walking, taking it all in.

The crowds here were different from those in the bustling ports of Costa del Sol. Many of these people weren’t just passing through—they had nowhere else to go. Their clothes were torn, their shoes worn through, and most carried everything they owned strapped to their backs.

She hadn’t noticed it as much last night, but most of Corel wasn’t made of houses—it was tents. Large, weathered canvas structures, packed closely together, forming an almost maze-like sprawl of temporary homes. The wooden buildings that did stand looked newer, as if they had only been built recently. Some still bore the raw color of fresh wood, unstained by time, a testament to the slow process of rebuilding after years of hardship. The monster’s rampage had left a trail of destruction, shredding tents to tattered remnants and scattering the belongings of those who had called them home.

She exhaled softly, hugging her arms as she stood on the main path, watching. It felt wrong to stare, but at the same time, she couldn’t look away. These people had been forced from their homes, their lives uprooted and scattered like sand in the wind. She didn’t know the full extent of Corel’s suffering, but she could see its wounds. The town hadn’t recovered, and maybe it never would.

She had seen it before, in the ruins of Midgar; the parts of the city where the scars of Meteor remained, untouched and forgotten. In the crowded slums, where survivors of the disaster clung to whatever shelter they could find, their lives reduced to an afterthought in the grand scheme of rebuilding. Those places, and the people who inhabited them, were neglected, abandoned by those with the means to help. Out of sight, out of mind—the old saying had never felt so cruelly true.

Aeris passed by a group of children playing near a rundown fence. A sudden blur of movement caught her eye. One of the kids bolted past, his laughter ringing through the quiet street. A stuffed toy tumbled from his arms, landing in the dirt with a soft plop. She walked over to pick it up and brushed dust from it. 

It was a Dalmatian pup with a bright smile, worn from years of love and use, its floppy ears slightly misshapen, its once pristine body somewhat browned with dust and dirt. The pup wore a tiny dark green cap lined with white stars, and a collar with a plastic tag. There was a faint inscription on it. Squinting, Aeris managed to make out the faded word: “Stamp”. A mascot, she thought. Someone's favorite toy. She smiled softly, turning it over in her hands before setting it upright on the ground, hoping its owner would return to find it, but the kids were nowhere in sight.

Rather than the child, she spotted Vincent. He stood a few paces behind her, half in the shadow of a crumbling wall, arms crossed, crimson eyes flickering over the same broken scene she had been watching. She didn’t know how long he had been there; he hadn’t made a sound, hadn’t drawn attention to himself. But his presence shifted the air, a quiet tether grounding her.

She studied him for a moment. He always carried himself like a ghost; still, silent, always watching. But this time…there was something different in his posture. A heaviness. He looked haggard. The exhaustion in his face was unmistakable. Shadows deep beneath his eyes, his expression drawn and distant. He hadn’t rested at all. 

A quiet worry settled in Aeris’ chest.

"Hey." She approached him, her voice softer than she intended.

His gaze flickered to her, unreadable. He didn’t respond right away.

"You didn’t sleep," she said after a moment.

Vincent exhaled slowly, glancing toward the mountains. Then, after a pause, his gaze returned to her, studying her with quiet intent. "Neither did you."

She hesitated. The way he looked at her—steady and knowing—made deflection feel pointless.

Instead, she sighed, shifting closer, her arms wrapping around herself as she admitted, "No. I kept drifting in and out...but I couldn’t settle."

For a moment, Vincent said nothing, but he held her gaze with a quiet acknowledgment.

Aeris lingered, letting the silence settle between them. She turned her attention back to the village. Her gaze drifted over the town—the broken structures, the weariness in every step, the loss hanging thick in the air. A pang of sorrow pressed deep in her chest.

“What happened to this place?” she asked softly, looking up at him. “Before the monster, I mean.”

Vincent followed her gaze. “Corel burned.” His voice was quiet but edged with the weight of history. “ShinRa built a reactor here years ago. Called it progress. When it exploded, they blamed the people. So they burned the village to the ground. The few who survived were left with nothing.”

Aeris inhaled sharply. She had seen destruction before, knew the cruelty of ShinRa, but this…this felt different. It wasn’t just a town that had been destroyed. It was lives, families, entire futures.

"And it’s been like this ever since?" she murmured, watching as a child clung to his mother’s hand, his clothes frayed and too thin for the desert’s chill.

Vincent nodded. "Some tried to rebuild. Others just…learned to endure."

Aeris’ fingers curled at her sides. Endure. That was all anyone seemed to do in the wake of destruction. To hold on. To survive. 

"Aeris!? Is that you??" An unfamiliar voice called out. 

The voice was young and incredulous, almost breathless.

Aeris turned just as a red-haired girl, about ten or eleven, came rushing toward her, eyes wide with disbelief. She barely had time to process what was happening before the child skidded to a stop in front of her. Aeris then remembered her; she was the girl who nearly collided with her yesterday.

“No way! It’s really you!!” the girl cried, beaming. 

Aeris simply stared, wordless and confused. She searched her memory for the girl—but there was nothing. As far as she knew, they had never spoken before this moment.

“I used to see you at the church. In Midgar, you remember?? You gave me flowers to bring back to my mom!”

Aeris went stiff.

Her. She meant her. The other Aeris.

The sheer happiness in her voice caught Aeris off guard. The way she looked at her—not with suspicion or with doubt, but with recognition. Like she belonged.

For just a fleeting moment, Aeris let herself imagine it. The girl’s excitement wrapped around her like a memory she couldn’t recall, something warm and familiar, yet foreign. Was this what it felt like, to be truly remembered?

But then came the crushing weight of guilt.

She wasn’t the girl this child remembered. She had no right to this reunion, to the joy in this little girl’s eyes.

The girl didn’t notice her hesitation, however. She just kept talking, words tumbling out in an excited rush.

"We were so worried when the plate came crashing down," she recounted. "And then Meteor—we thought...we thought you didn’t make it." Her voice wavered, thick with emotion, but then her smile brightened, full of hope. "But you’re alive! You’re alive!! This is amazing!!"

Aeris felt the knot in her stomach harden, heavy as a stone.

She should correct her. Should tell her the truth. Should shake her head and say, "Sorry, but you’re mistaken. I’m not who you think I am."

But the girl looked so happy. Her face was practically shining.

"Mom’s not gonna believe this!" The child exclaimed, and motioned for her to follow her. “Come with me! Please? You have to see her! She’ll be so happy!”

Aeris cast a hesitant glance at Vincent, who gave a silent nod, as if to say, go ahead. Before she could even think of a response, her feet were already carrying her down the dusty path after the girl, Vincent following close behind. They walked in silence for a while, heading toward a weathered wooden building with a faded medical sign hanging outside.

The moment she stepped inside, the sharp scent of antiseptic hit Aeris' nose. The dimly lit room was lined with hospital beds separated by white curtains, most of them occupied. Some patients slept fitfully, one murmured weakly to a man in a white coat whom Aeris assumed might be a doctor, and others were lost in delirious mumbling. The exhaustion in the air was palpable, as if even the walls sagged under the weight of suffering. It reminded Aeris of the hospital in Midgar where she had lain after she awoke from her coma. Except this place felt far more primitive, stripped of the sterile efficiency of the city’s medical centers, leaving only the raw struggle for survival.

The girl released Aeris’ hand and hurried to the far end of the room, vanishing behind a white curtain. Aeris hesitated for a moment before following, while Vincent hung back a few paces, giving her space.

“Mom? There’s someone here to see you,” the girl declared happily.

A woman was resting in a bed there. She was pale and thin, and her breathing was shallow. But despite the weariness in her face, her expression lit up immediately when Aeris came into view.

“Oh…” The woman’s voice was faint but filled with emotion. “Aeris…”

Aeris’ heart skipped a beat when she said her name. It came out sounding like this stranger was finally reunited with a dear one she hadn’t seen in many, many years. 

“See!? I told you! She’s really here, Mom!”

Tears welled in the woman’s tired eyes. She reached out to Aeris with trembling fingers.

Aeris hesitated before stepping closer, letting the woman take her hand. Her grip was weak and her skin cold, but there was warmth in her smile. In the way she looked at her like she was something precious that had been lost and finally found again.

“You're okay…” the woman whispered, a faint, relieved chuckle escaping her lips. “I can't believe it. After Meteor...after everything that's happened...I thought—" She let out a shaky breath, her smile softening. “But you're here. I’m so glad. The world feels a little brighter knowing that.”

Aeris opened her mouth. Tell her. Say something. Tell her the truth.

But what could she possibly say? “No, I’m not her. The person you love is gone. I’m just an image”?

Instead, she remained silent and forced a soft smile, merely nodding.

She didn’t deserve the way the woman squeezed her hand like she was something to be cherished. Didn’t deserve the adoration in the little girl’s eyes as she looked up at her with so much unshakable faith.

She could tell these two had been through a lot. If they had indeed come all the way from Midgar and ended up in Corel of all places—displaced, like so many others, in the aftermath of Meteor—then they had lost more than she could imagine. 

“If you need anything,” Aeris said softly, giving the woman’s hand a gentle squeeze, “I’m here for you.”

And she meant it. No matter the truth, she truly wanted to help them in any way she could.

“Thank you, Aeris,” the woman breathed, her voice fragile. “But you've already done so much for us…just being here. I’m just so happy I got to see you again…to thank you.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she clung to Aeris’ hand, as if afraid to let go, her smile was warm and full of gratitude.

The woman’s grip on her hand trembled, weak but insistent. Her tired eyes shone with something fragile; relief, hope, something Aeris wasn’t sure she deserved.

Aeris swallowed, her fingers trembling slightly where they rested against the woman’s cold skin. The warmth in her gaze, the gratitude in her voice—it was all meant for someone else.

The woman exhaled softly, her eyelids drooping, as if the mere act of holding onto Aeris had drained what little strength she had left. But she didn’t let go. Instead, her fingers curled tighter, like she was afraid this moment—this brief reunion—might slip away.

Aeris hesitated, her own breath hitching. What was she supposed to do? To say?

A nurse approached them then, offering the woman a gentle but firm look. "You should rest now," she advised, touching her shoulder lightly.

The girl clung to her mother’s sleeve, her fingers clutching the fabric like a lifeline. The sight sent a quiet ache through Aeris. When she turned back, the woman’s grip had slackened, her eyelids fluttering under the weight of exhaustion.

Aeris seized the opportunity to step back, murmuring something about not wanting to tire her out. The woman gave her hand one last squeeze before finally releasing her, sinking back onto the bed with a quiet sigh.

A hand brushed against her arm. Aeris turned to find the girl standing beside her, looking up at her with an earnest, hopeful expression—not the naïve kind of hope that came from childhood innocence, but the kind born from loss, from clinging to something good when everything else had been taken away.

“Please come back again soon,” she said. Not a plea, but a certainty.

Aeris opened her mouth to speak, then paused. She couldn’t say anything, but she managed a smile and a nod. 

A shadow in her peripheral vision caught her attention. Vincent stood in the corner behind her, arms crossed, leaning against the wall. He had been silent the whole time, watching the scene unfold. Aeris didn’t look at him. She wasn’t sure she could.

As they left the infirmary, the warmth of the morning sun touched her face, but it felt distant. Unreal. The cold weight pressing against her ribs remained, unmoved by the light.

Her feet carried her aimlessly down the road, thoughts circling, twisting like tangled roots she couldn’t unearth.

I shouldn’t have lied.

But had it really been a lie? Not a single word she spoke was untrue. She hadn’t claimed to be the girl they loved. Hadn’t even tried to deceive them. She had simply let them believe what they needed to.

Wasn’t that kinder than the truth?

I did the right thing, she told herself. 

But she faltered. Didn’t I?

The answer should have been easy. So why wasn’t it?

What was she supposed to do? What should she have said? How could she have looked that little girl in the eyes—a mere child, who had lost so much already—felt the way she believed, and cruelly ripped it away from her? How could she have told a sick woman that the hope she felt…was false?

She remembered Vincent’s fears if ever the world found out who—or rather what —she was. 

The truth had to remain a secret. It had to. Even if it felt like a betrayal. Even if it felt like a lie. It was better this way—for everyone involved. 

Her hands trembled at her sides. She exhaled, but it didn’t make the tightness in her chest go away. Was this guilt, shame…or was it something else? Something deeper gnawing at her?

Vincent walked beside her in silence, his presence as steady as ever. The weight of the moment pressed down on her, settling somewhere beneath her ribs. Even in the sunlight, it felt like a shadow trailed behind her.

She turned a corner and suddenly caught her reflection in a murky windowpane.

For a second, she didn’t move.

Her fingers twitched before she slowly reached up, touching her own cheek, tracing the curve of her jaw. Her skin was warm beneath her fingertips, but she still felt out of place. Like she wasn’t here, but standing outside herself, watching from a distance.

She stared at the face in the glass. Her reflection stared back at her, but for a moment, she wasn’t sure who she was looking at. Her fingers hovered over the glass, her breathing shallow and uneven.

Was this her? Or was it just the shadow of someone else? The image of a girl long dead…an echo of the past?

Her breath left her in a slow, unsteady exhale. The longer she stared, the less familiar her own face became.

Until, suddenly, she felt like she was staring at a stranger.

A hand rested gently on her shoulder.

"Aeris?" Vincent’s voice was quiet, his touch steady. "Are you alright?"

She hesitated, her fingers flexing slightly as she let the moment settle. She had been so lost in thought, the world around her had faded—but he had noticed.

For a second, she considered brushing off his concern. ‘I'm fine’ sat on the tip of her tongue. But the words were hollow, and she couldn’t bring herself to say them.

Instead, she exhaled slowly and looked away. His hand didn’t leave her shoulder.

"That woman and her daughter…”

Vincent tilted his head slightly, listening.

“They came all the way from Midgar…like us.” She wrapped her arms around herself, her voice quieter now. “For us, it's home. But for them…it isn’t anymore. Everything they had there...it’s all gone. And there are so many others just like them. People who lost their homes, their families, their friends…their entire lives. All of it, wiped away. Because of Meteor. Because of…Sephiroth."

She swallowed, exhaling sharply as she turned her gaze downward. “And they knew her. Aeris. She was their friend.”

Vincent’s eyes flickered toward her at that.

She let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “They thought I was her. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I just…let them believe it.”

Vincent didn’t waver. His hand shifted slightly, fingers pressing briefly against her back in a quiet, steadying motion. "You did the right thing."

Aeris let out a slow breath, but the doubt didn’t ease. 

“Did I?” she whispered. “I don’t know...”

Vincent didn’t answer right away. His gaze lingered on her, as if searching for something in her expression. Then, quietly, he said, "Would the truth have helped them?"

Aeris opened her mouth, but no words came at first. 

Yet, deep down, the answer was obvious.

"No. It wouldn’t have," she admitted softly. "But I still feel like I lied."

Without a word, Vincent reached out, brushing his gloved hand lightly against her temple, and tucked her hair behind her ear. It was a small thing, but there was a carefulness in the gesture, something steady and deliberate. Aeris stilled at his touch. 

He didn’t say anything at first, just watched her with that same unwavering patience, crimson eyes searching hers. 

He exhaled through his nose. "Sometimes, silence is the most compassionate response,” he said. “The kindest thing one can do isn’t always to act, but to know when to hold back."

Aeris blinked at his answer. He wasn’t trying to dismiss her feelings, nor offering empty reassurance. There was no judgment in his voice, only understanding. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Would it have been kinder to take away their hope?

Perhaps he was right. She couldn’t do anything to help those people; couldn’t be their dead friend, and couldn’t bring her back. In that moment, the only true help she could offer had been her silence. 

And yet…why did it still feel wrong?

She exhaled and turned away slightly, thinking she should say something else, then...

“There you are!”

Aeris gave a violent start as Yuffie appeared, half-jogging toward them.

“I’ve been looking all over for you guys! You just vanished.” She stopped, tilting her head as she gave Aeris a once-over. “Hey, you okay? You look like you’re on another planet.”

“Huh?” Aeris blinked, shaken from her thoughts. “Yeah,” she lied, forcing a smile, her voice coming out just a little too high-pitched. “Yeah, of course! I’m fine.”

Yuffie didn’t look convinced, one eyebrow lifting in clear skepticism. Before she could call her out on it, Aeris quickly changed the subject.

“And you? Where have you been?”

“Scoping out old man Joe’s place!” Yuffie announced with a big grin, pointing toward the hill. “It’s up there. I’m gonna check it out. So? You guys coming or what?”

Aeris followed Yuffie’s pointing finger, her gaze settling on the crooked silhouette of the house perched on the hill’s edge. A quiet, uneasy weight settled in her stomach. The villagers’ voices from yesterday echoed in her mind; their hushed warnings, the way they spoke of the old man’s ‘shiny rock’ like it was something unnatural. A cursed thing, they had said.

She wasn’t superstitious, but something about this didn’t feel right. The air in this village already carried an unsettling energy, but now, looking at the dilapidated house in the distance, that feeling crept beneath her skin, whispering of something unseen. Yuffie, on the other hand, was practically buzzing with excitement, her usual bravado making her oblivious to the tension Aeris couldn’t shake.

But despite her unease, Aeris couldn’t ignore the fact that there was an old man, alone, suffering while the rest of the village kept their distance, whispering about his madness instead of offering help. Her apprehension warred with her sympathy.

She exhaled softly and squared her shoulders.

“I think…if old Joe really is unwell as they say, we have to check on him,” she said. “Maybe we can convince him to see the doctor.”

A quiet breeze stirred the dust at their feet. The house on the hill loomed in the distance, crooked and silent, its shutters closed like wary eyes.

Yuffie shifted, adjusting the strap of her shuriken. “Well, I guess standing here won’t do much. Might as well get this over with.”

Aeris hesitated just a moment longer. A glance at Vincent told her nothing. His expression was as impassive as ever, but the way he lingered, the way he stood just close enough for his coat to brush against her sleeve, spoke more than words.

She nodded, more to herself than anyone else.

The trio made their way up a narrow, overgrown path toward the edge of town, where Old Man Joe’s house stood in isolation on the hillside.

The house was a sad, crumbling structure at the edge of Corel, half-swallowed by now dried weeds and wild grass. The wood was warped and splintered, the shutters closed tight against the world, and the roof sagged like it was holding its breath. As they approached, Aeris felt a strange tension in the air. It wasn’t just the eerie silence or the decay. It was something deeper, something wrong. Her chest constricted, and she clenched her fists at her sides.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Yuffie muttered, grimacing as she took in the shabby surroundings. “Does he even live here, or did he just crawl into a haunted house by mistake?”

Aeris didn’t respond. She stopped on the porch, her hand resting lightly on the railing. Her chest felt tight, and her breath hitched as a strange sensation washed over her. There was something in the air—a faint, almost imperceptible hum. It wasn’t a sound, exactly, but a vibration that seemed to reverberate deep within her. It made her skin crawl.

She pressed a hand to her chest, her brows furrowing, turning toward Vincent. “Do you feel that?” she asked quietly.

Vincent nodded, his gaze fixed on the door. “Yes.”

“Feel what?” Yuffie asked, glancing between them skeptically. “You guys are weird. It’s just a creepy old house.”

“It’s not the house…” Aeris said softly, her voice edged with unease. “It’s…something else.”

Vincent said nothing, but his sharp eyes lingered on the door, as if searching for something invisible to the rest of them. Without a word, he stepped forward and knocked firmly, the hollow sound echoing through the stillness.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then came the sound of shuffling footsteps inside, hesitant and uneven, followed by the creak of the door opening just a crack. A single bloodshot eye peered out at them, framed by a face pale and gaunt.

“What do you want?” the old man rasped, his voice sharp with suspicion.

“Are you Joe? We’re here to check on you,” Aeris said gently, stepping forward. “The villagers are worried about you. They said—”

“I don’t care what they said!” Joe snapped, his voice rising as he clutched something close to his chest. A faint green glow seeped out from between his trembling fingers, casting an eerie light over his weathered face. “I don’t need no doctor! I’m fine, just fine! Go on, get outta here!”

“Whoa, easy, old-timer,” Yuffie said, raising her hands as if to calm him. Her sharp eyes had locked onto the glow in his hands, her expression shifting from alarm to fascination. “Hey, is that…materia? Did you find that in the mountains?”

Joe’s eyes narrowed, his grip on the glowing object tightening. “What if I did? It’s mine! You can’t have it!”

Yuffie’s tone softened, her curiosity taking over. “Relax, I’m not trying to take it. I just wanna see it. Materia like that—so, uh, glowy—it’s gotta be special, right? C’mon, just for a second.”

Joe hesitated, his gaze flicking between Yuffie, Vincent, and Aeris. His shoulders hunched, and he licked his cracked lips nervously. “You wanna see it? Fine. But you’re not staying out here.” He opened the door fully, revealing his disheveled figure. His clothes were wrinkled and stained, his gray hair hung in greasy strands, and his eyes darted around like a cornered animal. “Come inside. And don’t you try anything funny.”

Aeris exchanged a glance with Vincent, her unease growing. The faint hum she’d felt earlier was stronger now, vibrating through her chest like a distant heartbeat. But before she could say anything, Yuffie had already stepped forward, practically bouncing.

“Alright, lead the way, old man!” Yuffie said cheerfully.

Joe ushered them inside, and the moment the trio stepped over the threshold, he slammed the door shut and locked it with a loud click. Aeris winced at the sound and inhaled sharply, the walls suddenly feeling too close, the air too thick. Her unease spiked as the heavy, musty air pressed down on her. The house was dark, the only light coming from the faint green glow of the materia clutched in Joe’s hands. The curtains were drawn tight, and the smell of mildew and stale air was suffocating.

She was starting to think that this might have been a really bad decision.

“Home sweet home,” Yuffie muttered sarcastically under her breath, glancing around at the cluttered room. Broken furniture was piled haphazardly against the walls, and the floor was strewn with empty cans and crumpled papers. It looked like no one had cleaned (or even cared about) this place in years.

Joe shuffled to the center of the room, his hands trembling as he held the materia closer to his chest. “You wanted to see it? Fine. But just look. Don’t even think about touching it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yuffie said, brushing him off as she stepped closer, her eyes locked on the glowing orb. “Man, look at this thing. That’s some primo materia you’ve got there.” She hesitated for a moment before flashing Joe her most disarming grin. “Hey, mind if I hold it? Just for a second?”

Joe’s face twisted into a scowl, his paranoia flaring. “No! You keep your hands to yourself, missy!”

“C’mon,” Yuffie pleaded. “I just want to feel it. What’s the harm? You’ve got my word, okay? Scout’s honor.”

Joe stared at her for a very long moment, his expression flickering with indecision. 

Finally, with great reluctance, he extended the materia toward her. “Fine. But only for a second. And don’t you drop it!”

Yuffie practically snatched the orb from his hands, holding it up to inspect it in the dim light. The materia was unlike anything she’d seen before. Its surface shimmered with a strange, otherworldly glow, and when she touched it, a faint warmth seeped into her skin.

Her grin faded as a strange sensation coursed through her—a heavy, oppressive feeling that made her stomach twist. It wasn’t just warmth she felt. It was something darker, something wrong. Her head spun, and for a brief moment, she thought she could hear faint whispers at the edge of her mind.

“Ugh,” she muttered, shaking her head as if to clear it. “This thing’s weird. Like, really weird. It feels…off, somehow.” She frowned, hesitating for a moment before handing it to Aeris. “Here. Maybe you can figure out what’s going on with it.”

Aeris’ fingers hovered just above its surface. The glow pulsed softly, steady but…wrong. Not inviting nor familiar, but something about it felt alive.

She reached out, her fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the materia. The moment she made contact, a deep, twisting nausea curled in her stomach. A whisper, faint as breath, brushed against her mind—before the pain struck. A shockwave of sensation surged through her—a sharp, searing pain that shot through her chest like a lightning bolt. She gasped, like something had just stolen the very breath out of her. Her green eyes went wide in shock as the world around her tilted and blurred. The low hum she had felt earlier erupted into a deafening roar; the scream of a thousand voices, each one pressing down on her all at once.

The room spun violently. Aeris stumbled backward, clutching at her chest as her knees buckled beneath her. Her lips parted in a silent cry, but no sound came out.

“Aeris!” Vincent’s voice rang out sharply, cutting through the haze, and she felt strong arms catching her before she collapsed. But she couldn’t respond, couldn’t move. The world around her dissolved into darkness, a deep, all-encompassing void that pulled her under.

“Aeris! Wake up! Aeris!!” Vincent called urgently, his voice trembling as he gently shook her limp body. He immediately pressed two fingers to her throat...and exhaled when he found a pulse. Her breathing was shallow, her face pale and clammy, her lips slightly parted. She remained unresponsive.

"Aeris!" Yuffie’s voice cracked as she scrambled forward, dropping to her knees beside her. Her hands hovered, unsure what to do. “What happened?! What’s wrong with her?!” she cried frantically, looking up at Vincent, her voice a mixture of anger and raw panic. "Vincent, what the hell—?! Do something!!"

Vincent shook his head, his jaw clenched tight as his crimson gaze flicked between Aeris’ unconscious form and the ominous green glow of the materia still in her limp hand. Carefully, he reached out, his gloved fingers brushing against its smooth surface as he pried it from her grasp—

Then, a sharp, unnatural pulse shot through him. A sudden jolt of energy surged up his arm, cold and electric, coiling in his chest like something alive. A whisper. It wasn't words, but an intrusive, guttural murmur, scraping at the edges of his mind. Threading through his thoughts like tendrils of smoke. It was distant, almost imperceptible, but it set his nerves on edge. For a fleeting second, the world around him distorted—stretched too thin, as if reality itself wavered. 

Then, he heard them.

Whispers, slithering through his mind—wet, rasping, inhuman. Some were hollow and breathless, others gurgled and broken, like drowning voices clawing for air.

"...Shackles wear thin...chains don’t hold forever..."

They jeered, mocking him. Low, grating laughter, jagged as broken glass snaked through his thoughts, curling tight like a vice. His head snapped up and crimson eyes flashed as he forced himself to push past it, to resist…whatever the hell that was. His pulse slowed with careful, practiced control, but his fingers curled tighter around the materia before he could stop them. His claw twitched involuntarily. He felt something crawl through his mind, pulling at him...

Then, with a quiet but forceful exhale, he shoved the orb into Yuffie’s hands. She flinched at the sudden movement, barely catching it.

“Whoa—hey!” she blurted, startled by his reaction. 

He turned his gaze to the materia, his expression hard and unreadable, but his grip on Aeris tightened ever so slightly. “This thing…” he growled, casting a seething glare at the corrupted orb. His voice was lower now, rougher. "It’s dangerous."

No sooner had the words left his lips than a metallic click broke through the tense silence. Vincent’s instincts kicked in immediately. With Aeris held secure with his claw, his real hand flew to his gun, training it on Old Man Joe.

The old prospector stood a few feet away, his sawed-off shotgun leveled at Yuffie. His wild, bloodshot eyes darted between her and Vincent, his hands trembling with barely restrained desperation.

“Hand it over!” Joe barked, his voice low and rasping but filled with a manic urgency. “It’s mine, you hear me? I won’t let you take it!!”

“Are you frickin’ serious?!” Yuffie hissed, furious, gripping her oversized shuriken as she stepped into a defensive stance. “She’s out cold, you old maniac!! You really wanna do this right now?!”

“I’m warning you!” Joe snarled, his finger twitching dangerously on the trigger. “Give it here, or you’ll regret it!”

Vincent’s voice was low and ice-cold. “Put the gun down.” He adjusted his stance, holding on to Aeris while he aimed his firearm squarely at Joe’s head.

The old man didn’t flinch, his eyes wild and unrelenting. “Not until I get what’s mine!” he barked, his voice rising with every word.

Yuffie scowled, then threw up her free hand in frustration. “Fine, here! Take your stupid rock!” she snapped, tossing the materia onto the floor between them. It clattered noisily against the wooden floorboards, its sickly green glow pulsing faintly in the dim light.

Joe scrambled forward, lowering his shotgun just enough to snatch the orb from the floor. He clutched it desperately to his chest, his knobby fingers trembling with a fevered grip. His breath quickened, and his eyes darted frantically, wild and unfocused. 

Then, all of a sudden, his erratic movements ceased. He locked his gaze onto Vincent with an eerie stillness. A strange, sinister glint flickered in Joe’s bloodshot eyes, and his lips twisted into a grin that didn’t belong to him.

In a chillingly composed voice, he rasped, “He won’t let her go, you know.” 

The words hung in the air, cold and menacing. A deliberate threat.

Joe’s ghastly smile widened when he added, “Not now. Not ever.”

Vincent froze for half a second; his jaw stiffened, alarmed at the ominous warning. He adjusted Aeris in his arms with his claw, instinctively shielding her from an unseen enemy threatening to take her away or harm her. His breath slowed to a lethal calm and his grasp on his gun was steady, finger poised over the trigger. 

He narrowed his crimson eyes, shadows playing across his face as he stared down the possessed old man. “We’re leaving,” he said, his voice a quiet, deadly promise—a warning to anything that dared stand in his way. 

Slowly, he backed toward the door, his gaze never wavering from Joe. Each step was deliberate, controlled, as though he expected an attack at any moment.

“Yuffie, let’s go,” he said without looking at her.

Yuffie gave a frustrated growl, casting one last scathing glance at Joe before lowering her weapon. “This is insane,” she muttered in shock and disbelief, “this is absolutely insane!” Her steps were quick and tense as she rushed out the door.

Joe didn’t move. He just watched, that chilling smile still etched across his gaunt face, his grip on the corrupted materia tightening until his knuckles went white. The glow from the orb pulsed faintly, casting a sickly green light over his features.

As Vincent and Yuffie slipped out into the open air, the oppressive atmosphere of the house lifted, but the echo of Joe’s words lingered, heavy and unsettling.

He won’t let her go.

Not now. Not ever.

A shadow of doubt crossed Vincent’s mind. Was it a threat? Or was it a promise of something far more sinister? 

Why did it feel so personal?

As they moved further away from the house, Yuffie threw her hands up in exasperation. “Great,” she snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm and fury, though she was visibly shaken. “That went so well! Hey, who doesn’t love almost getting shot by some crazy possessed old coot? Awesome way to spend a morning! And what the hell did he mean by ‘He won’t let her go’!? Who!?”

Vincent said nothing, his gaze was fixed on the road ahead. His expression was dark and unreadable, but beneath his stoic façade, his mind churned with a million desperate questions. 

Yuffie glanced at Aeris’ unconscious face. Her irritation softened, replaced by worry and guilt. “But seriously, though,” she muttered, “is she gonna be okay??”

Vincent hugged Aeris to himself even more protectively, his jaw set. He didn’t look at Yuffie right away. His steps didn’t falter, but his voice dropped to a low murmur. “She will,” he said after a pause, but the hesitation was there—fleeting, barely noticeable, but real.

The two fell silent after that, the sound of their boots crunching against the gravel, the only thing accompanying them as they focused solely on leaving the house—and its dangerous secrets—behind, as fast as possible. 

But those menacing words still followed them:

“He won’t let her go, you know. Not now. Not ever.”

Chapter Text

“Memories are fragile things. Twist them gently enough...and even the truth forgets what it was.
And you...will follow the voice that sounds familiar…even if it leads you to the end.”

A vast emptiness swallowed her whole.

She was sinking. Dragged down like a stone through black water, the weight pulling faster, deeper, into a place without light. A space that didn’t touch time. 

Around her, the cacophony of screams and cries rose. It was everywhere, pressing in and flooding her senses.

Desperate, she clamped her hands over her ears. But it didn’t help one bit.

The sound didn’t just ring in her head. It pierced her, sharp and relentless.

She felt their pain, their despair, not just in her mind, but in her skin, her chest, even in her bones. Like her very cells were screaming with them. She wanted so badly for it to cease.

“Please…” she choked, her voice barely a breath. “Just stop…”

Then suddenly, as if on cue, everything went still. 

Her feet struck something solid, jarring her to a halt. 

The noise vanished, swallowed by the dark. The silence was so sudden it felt like the world itself had inhaled—and hadn’t exhaled yet.

She stood there, frozen, heart hammering in the void.

She’d been here before. Wherever “this” was…it knew her.

Like the emptiness itself held memory. Like it was watching her.

Studying her.

Holding its breath. Waiting.

But…waiting for what?

A sound broke the stillness; the slow, deliberate echo of footsteps. Heavy. Measured. Drawing closer through the dark.

And from the darkness, a figure emerged—stepping through a veil of black smoke, his form coalescing with unnatural grace. There was no mistaking his long silver hair and those cold eyes. They fixed on her like a predator locking onto prey.

Sephiroth. 

There was no warmth in that gaze. Only the promise of death.

Aeris’ heart slammed against her ribs as he closed in on her. The air left her lungs in a single, panicked gasp, and for a moment she couldn’t move, dread locking her in place. Then instinct surged, and she turned to run. 

But before she could even turn, he was suddenly in front of her...and he didn't stop. Her breath caught, and she froze completely. 

And then…he passed through her. 

Right through her. 

His body swept through hers like smoke, like shadow, like he wasn’t really there at all. 

The sensation left a shudder in her bones, cold and nauseating. Her knees nearly gave out. 

She stumbled back, gasping, confused. And then she heard it: the sound of ragged breathing and wretched sobs. 

She turned around and saw Sephiroth walking towards a strange man crawling across the black ground, one leg dragging uselessly behind him. He whimpered through clenched teeth, trying desperately to escape. His face twisted in agony, streaked with sweat, ash and blood. 

Sephiroth advanced toward the man with detached purpose, slow and deliberate with each step. That same cold gaze never wavered. 

He behaved as though Aeris were invisible. She backed away, staring wide-eyed as the scene unfolded. 

They couldn’t see her, she realized. She wasn’t part of this scene.

This wasn’t happening. But rather…it had happened.

What she witnessed must have been a memory. 

“No!! PLEASE!” the miserable man begged, his voice cracking. “I DON’T WANT TO DIE!!!”

Sephiroth stopped right beside the man, looming over him like a dark specter of inevitability. His long blade caught the dim light, gleaming with an unnatural sheen.

“Don’t worry,” he said. His voice was low and unnervingly calm, as though reciting facts. “It’s not death. It’s a homecoming.”

Then the sword plunged downward.

The man’s scream cut off in an instant as the blade drove through his chest. A sickening gurgle escaped his lips, blood bubbling from his throat. Aeris gave a violent start. A strangled noise caught in her throat, and pressed her hands to her mouth as tears stung her eyes. She watched the light fade from his, his body going limp.

Within seconds, he was dead.

And suddenly, the scene shattered. 

It scattered in a sudden burst of green light, into a million luminous scintillas, like sand torn apart and blown into the wind. The fragments floated, suspended, weightless around her.

Then, all around her, at varying distances in the void, more scenes ignited—phantom echoes of slaughter.

In each, Sephiroth appeared again and again, executing his victims in different, brutal ways. A mother shielding her child. A soldier dropping his weapon in surrender. A boy no older than twelve. A man protecting his village, being decapitated.

Each life ended by his hand. Each memory dissolved into luminous dust.

Then, slowly, the scattered green scintillas stirred. Drawn toward one another like particles caught in a current. They swirled inward, converging in a burst of bright green light. From that light, a shape emerged. Delicate and translucent, yet pulsing with energy. 

An hourglass.

As the glow faded, the hourglass remained, suspended in mid-air, slowly rotating. Aeris approached it in awe and bewilderment. She watched in wonder as pale sand trickled through its narrow neck, falling in a steady stream into the lower chamber, where it gathered in a soft heap.

Her fingers hovered near the glass. And when she reached out—just barely brushing the surface—she saw something peculiar in the sand. A single speck shimmered there, glinting with every hue of light, like a distant star. It was tiny, but unmistakable. It pulsed faintly, as if it were alive.

“This is…” she breathed, eyes wide.

She didn’t understand what she was seeing, but something about it filled her with dread. A sense of inevitability. Watching the slow, steady fall of the sand was like watching fate unfold, grain by grain.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t just a vision. It was a message. 

It was trying to tell her something.

The glowing grain inched closer to the narrow passage, caught in the flow. But as it approached, a fine crack spidered across the hourglass. Then another.

The pile of sand below darkened, as if ink were bleeding into it. The next few grains that fell turned black mid-air, and then to ash, before they even touched the surface.

A sudden shiver ran through her. Something was wrong, like a presence had slipped into the space without permission.

The hourglass flickered, and the darkness deepened.

Then came a voice out of nowhere, velvet-edged and cruelly calm:

“Memories are fragile things,” it said, soft and measured. “Twist them gently enough...and even the truth forgets what it was.”

Aeris tensed. She clenched her fists.

Of course she knew that voice. She knew it well enough by now. It was etched into her memory.

It was him.

“And you...will follow the voice that sounds familiar…even if it leads you to the end.”

And then, everything went black. 

Everything went still.

She didn’t know how long she had been out. Minutes…hours? Maybe longer. In this place, time didn’t seem to exist at all.

There came a sound from the emptiness. Like words, but muffled, as though spoken from behind a wall. She couldn’t make out what it was saying. It echoed faintly in the void.
But it grew clearer, as if she were rising from underwater.

Aeris felt herself being pulled upward, toward a small warm light above.

“Hello?” 

The voice was soft and uncertain. 

“Hello??” It called again, more firmly.

Much to her bewilderment, it was her own voice, she realized.

But…her lips hadn’t moved. She hadn’t spoken.

She continued floating upward, and the light grew, soft and golden.

And with a gasp, she felt herself lifted out of the dark.

It took a moment before her eyes fluttered open. 

They stung from the brightness, and her head swam. At first, her vision was blurry, and she saw a light pour in from above.

The world around her slowly took shape, golden light streaming through dust-specked air.

She had a vague sensation that something felt off...but she couldn’t name what exactly.

Had it all just been another dream?

“You’re awake.”

Startled out of her reverie, Aeris sat up suddenly—and went stiff.

A figure knelt just a short distance away, half-silhouetted by the golden light. 

When her vision focused, Aeris saw that it was a young woman. Pink dress, long brown hair in a braid, and a soft smile. The woman gazed down at her with gentle green eyes, with her hands folded in front of her, like she’d been waiting. 

Aeris forgot to breathe when she saw her. She blinked, dazed, staring at the woman in front of her, mouth agape. She dared not move. Her fingers grasped at the ground beneath her, unsure if she should speak. 

This wasn’t possible. 

It couldn’t be. 

The woman merely smiled, tilting her head slightly in an effortlessly warm way that made Aeris feel like she could see right through her; past all the walls, straight into her heart. 

“So, we finally meet,” she said evenly, as though she’d been waiting a long time.

Aeris couldn’t stop staring at her, refusing to believe her eyes. It was like looking in a mirror, and finding her own face reflected on someone else. Her pulse pounded in her ears. Her voice had cruelly been stolen from her as well. She tried to speak, but no coherent words wanted to come.

“A…Aeris?” she managed to croak, barely above a whisper.

The woman only smiled and inclined her head in a wordless confirmation.

Aeris looked around her serene surroundings. Light poured through tall colorful glass windows and the broken ceiling high above her. She discovered that she sat in a bed of fragrant white and yellow lilies. 

She knew this place. The Sector 5 church. But not as she remembered it. Something was different. It felt too still. As if it was suspended in time.

“I…I don’t understand,” she stammered, looking down at her hands, then at the woman in front of her. “...Am I dreaming?” 

Her heart sank when a dreadful thought occurred to her. “Or am I…dead?”

“You’re not dead,” Aeris assured her softly. 

There was a quiet grace to her voice. But something about it lingered just a second too long.

“Then…where exactly…am I?”

The woman smiled enigmatically and looked up to where the light streamed in through the broken ceiling. “You’re in the space between.”

“The…‘space between’?” Aeris echoed, frowning.

The woman nodded and moved closer.

“Where memory, feeling, and purpose all meet,” she said, her voice as calm as a prayer. “It’s not a place you can walk to. But you arrived. Because you were meant to.”

Aeris furrowed her brow; she couldn’t make sense of her cryptic meaning. It only left her more confused. She watched the woman in front of her, uncertainty flickering in her chest. As if her mind couldn’t quite trust what it was experiencing.

She looked almost exactly as Aeris had imagined her—like a memory brought to life. A ghost made flesh.

And yet, something inside her twisted. She couldn’t shake the unsettling sense that this place wasn’t safe, though she wasn’t sure why.

“I know your story,” the woman said, a sad smile just touching her lips.

Aeris flinched — just barely — but the words pierced deeper than she expected. She gave a small, uncertain smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Her voice trembled with something unspoken. Hope, or maybe fear.

The woman's gaze was gentle and held a quiet understanding as she nodded. “I know. You wonder if you’re real—if you even count. If you’re just…someone else’s shadow.”

Aeris’ breath caught. Her use of the words ‘real’ and ‘shadow’...it was almost like she could peer straight into her soul and read her like an open book—dragging out thoughts she’d only dared to share with one person... 

“I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you,” the other woman sympathized gently. “To have no past. No real home. Not even parents. Just a life that started in a glass tube.”

She moved a step closer. Her eyes shimmered with sorrow, and she placed a hand on Aeris’ shoulder.

“To have been made, not born. Created as a tool for someone else’s purpose…not even asked what you wanted to be.”

A knot rose in Aeris’ chest. Her lip quivered. She looked away, unable to meet the woman’s eyes.

“I have so many questions,” Aeris whispered. “Can you help me understand?”

The woman regarded her for a moment, then slowly rose to her feet. She reached out her hand.

“Come with me,” she said. “There’s something I want you to see.”

Aeris took her hand, and the woman helped her to her feet. Together, they walked through the stillness of the church. 

When they reached the great doors, they creaked open with a soft groan.

Nothing could have prepared Aeris for what greeted her. 

Outside weren't the ruins of the slums. It wasn’t Midgar at all. 

The sky above them stretched too wide — as though the heavens had been torn open. Jagged streaks of green Lifestream spilled like veins through the firmament, threading in unnatural patterns. Far in the distance, the horizon bled outward in impossible ways; curving into itself, bending at angles that defied logic. Floating shards of land spun in slow spirals, flickering like scenes from another life; like dreams on the edge of forgetting. Cities blinked into being — and vanished again. 

Nothing was fixed. All of it breathed. All of it was in flux.

The ground shimmered like solid water, stretching out toward a horizon that refused to stay still.

Aeris stopped in her tracks.

“What…what is this?”

The woman beside her didn’t flinch. Her voice was soft. Reverent.

“This is where the threads meet. The place where realities converge...and unravel.”

Aeris turned to her, but the other woman was already gazing up at the broken sky.

“‘The threads’?” Aeris echoed. “...‘Unravel’?”

She glanced skyward again. Threads of Lifestream curled through the stars like rivers of light, weaving a vast tapestry across the heavens.

A tapestry of realities—shifting, flickering, blinking in and out of existence like dying dreams. Everything shimmered in hues of opalescent light.

Words surfaced, unbidden, returning to her like a whisper from somewhere far away.

“‘The thread unravels’…” she murmured, tracing the green currents above. “‘One cut, and all is undone. From one, many…from many, none.’”

“What?”

Aeris shook her head. “It’s…something I heard in a dream,” she said quietly, more to herself. “Was the Planet…trying to warn me? About this?” 

She turned toward the woman. “Why?”

The woman’s expression softened. “To help you understand what’s at stake,” she said gently. “And what’s still to come.”

Aeris processed her words. 

“Is this…” Her voice caught. She hesitated, then forced the rest out. “Is all of this…because of him? Sephiroth?”

The woman glanced askance at her, but didn’t answer. Instead, she looked out at the horizon with weary understanding.

“He’s reaching for something no being was meant to touch. He isn’t just trying to conquer the world…he’s trying to become it.”

The words lodged deep in Aeris’ chest. She stared in horror, her pulse quickening. 

“So…he’s really not gone?” Her voice quivered. “But how? Cloud, Tifa, and the others...they defeated him. How is he still—?”

The woman raised a hand, stopping her gently. “It’s not that simple.”

Aeris fell quiet. The words lingered in the air like vapor.

“He exists in memory…” the woman continued, “and memory feeds reality.”

“What are you saying?” Aeris asked. Her heart pounded.

“He was never only human. That part is gone…but the rest? That’s harder to bury.” 

Aeris’ limbs quaked with a quiet dread she couldn’t suppress. The very thought that something like him could still linger—bodiless, shapeless—sent a cold ripple through her spine.

“And if he reaches his goal,” the woman continued, “he’ll transcend time and reality. Exist everywhere, always. He’ll merge with the Lifestream...not just as memory, but permanence. Eternity. The Planet won’t be able to resist him. Nothing will.” A flicker of something unreadable crossed her face, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “He will never be just a memory.”

“And you…” the woman paused, eyes resting on Aeris. “You’re part of why the Planet is still resisting.”

Aeris drew back a step. “Me?”

The woman gave a slow, solemn nod. “Your existence defies what was written. That means something.”

A hollow ache rose in Aeris’ chest.

“What are you trying to tell me?” she asked, forcing herself to meet the other woman’s gaze.

The woman met her eyes with a calm, almost tender expression. “That sometimes, the Planet asks one soul to carry what others can’t.”

Aeris didn’t know if the words steadied her or hollowed her out further. She had already borne so much. Could there really be more?

“Maybe you exist for a bigger purpose,” the woman went on. “Maybe you were made to be something more.”

A long silence settled between them—but Aeris didn’t step away.

Then the woman spoke again, her voice low, steeped in quiet gravity. “The Planet is crying out. It needs someone to listen. Someone who can reach its heart.”

Aeris looked away. She remembered the last time she stood between someone she loved and the edge of death. How much it hurt. How close she came to losing everything. 

And now, beside her, stood the woman who had once done the same, only braver. The real Cetra. The one who could hear the Planet clearly, who belonged to a people, a lineage. Whose courage had cost her everything.

Aeris had none of that. No ancestors. No deep connection to some ancient past. Just what she was made to be...and the shadow of someone else’s sacrifice.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” she murmured. “I’m not strong enough.”

The woman stepped behind her, voice close now. Low and comforting. “Real strength is standing up when no one else can—when it matters most.”

Those words made Aeris’ body stiffen.

“True love,” she said, resting a hand lightly on Aeris’ shoulder, “means putting others before yourself.” Her voice was soft. Reverential. Almost proud. “The Planet doesn’t ask for much. Just a little courage. A little willingness. A heart open enough to say yes—even when it hurts.”

Aeris couldn’t look at the other woman, her chest feeling heavy with doubt.

She felt…small. Like the ground had shifted beneath her, and nothing was solid anymore. The weight of everything—the visions, the whispers, the responsibility—pressed down on her. She wanted to believe what the woman said. Wanted to be enough. But she wasn’t sure she could.

“I know you’re afraid,” the woman assured her softly, as though sensing her worry. “But you won’t have to be—not for much longer. Just let the Planet guide you. It will show you the way. All you need to do…is surrender.”

Aeris felt the weight building in her chest. The words were beautiful, but they filled her with foreboding.

She glanced down, her voice barely more than breath.

“But…what is it that the Planet wants me to do?”

The woman didn’t answer at once. She looked at Aeris with that same unwavering calm—tender, patient, almost mournful.

“I think you already know the answer.”

Then the light changed.

Subtle at first, then sharp. 

The strange horizon blurred. The swirling sky fractured. The threads of green light twisted inward, folding like petals closing around a flame. The ground beneath her feet gave way to brightness. Blinding. Absolute.

Aeris reached out instinctively—but there was nothing to hold onto.

And then...

She gasped.

Her eyes snapped open.

She was lying on her back. Breathing shallow, and skin damp with sweat. 

Her body trembled; muscles tense, like she’d just surfaced from deep underwater.

Cold metal brushed against her arm, and she glanced toward it. 

Bed railings, she discovered. She lay tucked underneath a thin white blanket.

She blinked up at a ceiling washed in yellowed fluorescent light, her vision struggling to focus. 

The sterile scent of disinfectant lingered in the air. Somewhere nearby, she heard people speaking in low voices…the scrape of a chair’s leg against the floor…muffled footsteps on concrete.

White curtains surrounded her, swaying faintly with movement she couldn’t see.

Aeris turned her head slightly, and her neck ached. Beyond the curtain’s edge, she caught the glimpse of a table with gauze, vials, and a folded blanket. 

A hospital, she thought. She didn’t recognize this place either.

But at least she knew, she had finally awakened.

And the weight she carried had come with her.