Chapter Sixteen: "Who Is The Father Angel?"

Tifa didn’t know what to think. She was stunned—her mind refused to believe the evidence that was before her. It had to be a mistake, or some terrible joke.

They had traveled all that morning and now it was late afternoon. The path Cloud had led them on now appeared to point in the direction of a small town huddled at the base of the towering peaks. There was nothing supernatural-seeming about the town from a distance, and any normal traveler would have passed through without a second thought. But its existence was the problem: Nibelheim had been destroyed. It had to have been—Tifa had witnessed it with her own eyes. But now they were overlooking her hometown, an exact replica of her memories. The only vagary might have been the air itself: it was solemn and fearful, not resting pleasantly in the foothills but hiding in them. She felt a chill in looking at it; this couldn’t be her Nibelheim, even as it looked the same. It couldn’t be.

Cloud, still trapped in his lizard body, clung to Aeris’ shoulder. The closer they’d approached to this place the more apprehensive he became—or at least, he seemed that way, as none of them knew what he might have been thinking or even if he could think for himself in his present state. But the protruding lizard eyes swung about warily, and its taloned feet dug tiny scars in Aeris’ coat, giving the indication that he was afraid.

"We should go down there," Sabin spoke up, squinting his eyes against the sun in order to make out some of the town’s details. To him there was nothing extraordinary about it—there were shops and inns and nothing suspicious or threatening at all. "There’s an inn for us to get rest."

"It’s only afternoon," Nadia reminded him.

"Yeah, but night’ll be here before we know it, especially if we do some investigating." He started down the path. "Come on."

Nadia started after him, but Tifa was still wary and Aeris had to contend with Cloud nipping at her collar. His tail swiped back and forth in protest. "Don’t worry, Cloud," she assured him gently. "We’ll just look around. You want to find a way to get back to normal, right?"

The lizard hissed, crouching down until his tiny body was as close to Aeris as he could make it. Aeris didn’t need such obvious signals to show her that he was frightened; as an Ancient she could read his emotions better in this animal form than when he was human. She patted him on the head, keeping her spirits high and careless so that he might be infected by her ease. "I said don’t worry. Now stop being a scardy-lizard. We’re going." She ran to catch up with Sabin and Nadia, and after a moment Tifa followed.

They entered the town and received many curious stares from the people in the streets. But as soon as each person had confirmed their existence, they ignored them. They went about their daily lives quietly without the bustle and liveliness Tifa remembered. "Recognize anyone?" Sabin asked.

"No…no one…" Tifa studied their faces in hopes of discovering one that was familiar, but they were all foreign to her. She moved over to an older man and smiled pleasantly. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon," he responded gruffly. "You travelers?"

She extended her hand. "My name’s Tifa Lockheart; I used to live here until after the accident. I’m afraid I don’t remember you."

He shook her hand but eyed here warily. "Accident?"

"Five years ago. The fires."

The old man considered a moment, then shook his head. "You must be mistaken, miss. There hasn’t been anything like that around Nibelheim since I was born—and that was a long time ago."

"Yes, but still…" Tifa gritted her teeth, shifting uncomfortably. She pointed to a house overlooking the square—her house, or so it was once. "That’s my father’s house," she said. "Samuel Lockheart. Did you know him?"

"No…the Davidson’s live in that house. Have for over twenty years." He shook his head. "You must be lost, miss. I’ve never heard the name ‘Lockheart’ before."

She would have persisted, but then Nadia approached. She thanked the man and guided Tifa away. "It’s no use," she told her quietly. "You can’t believe him; we’ll find out for ourselves."

"I want to see my house." Tifa gazed at it with her expression held still. "You guys can go look around, but I want to see it. I have to see if it’s the same."

She nodded. "Okay. I want to check the Shin-ra mansion. Maybe Cloud and I can dig something up."

The lizard hissed, but after some argument Aeris convinced him that, as one of two in their group who knew the place and the only one that knew the mansion, he was obligated. So Cloud was transferred to Nadia’s shoulder while Sabin and Aeris decided to check out the rest of the town themselves—and maybe find an antidote for Cloud. Meanwhile Tifa went to the house with the brown shutters.

No one answered the door at her knocking, but it wasn’t locked, so she let herself in. She didn’t care if she was caught, as her mind was filled with more pressing concerns. The house was exactly as she remembered—the sofas, the white tiled kitchen—even the old juice stain on the corner of the foyer rug. There was, however, a particular odor that indicated the presence of another family, and immediately she knew the house wasn’t hers. She could tell by the circulation of air and the aura of the old foundation, clues so clear to her as the color of the walls. This wasn’t Samuel Lockheart’s home.

Tifa ventured up the stairs to the second story, and here she heard it: a man, breathing heavily. She followed the sound into her room—also a carbon copy of the original Tifa bedroom. Leaning weakly against the wall, however, sat the violet-haired man who had rescued her. His face was pale and he clutched desperately at his chest. His blue eyes, glowing with far less splendor than before, met hers. "Lockheart…" he gasped, stretching out his hand.

She took it hesitantly and knelt beside him, trying to find the injury that seemed to be causing him so much pain. "It’s you," she murmured. "How did you get here? Who are you?"

"A SOLDIER," he rasped, each word formed through a deep, internal agony. "My name…it’s Cecil." His hand tightened almost painfully around hers. "I knew you’d come here. I…I waited."

"Why?" Tifa winced as her fingers throbbed, but she didn’t try to pull them free. "Why have you been following me?"

"You have…to kill him." His gaze pleaded with her, overflowing with urgency. "You, Tifa. You’re the only one that can."

She shook her head in frustration, searching her pockets for a healing materia to help him with. Her search turned up nothing. "I don’t know what you mean."

Cecil’s face contorted, and his jaws locked stubbornly as he fought against the pain. She gasped as blood began to pour out from the folds in his elaborate armor. "Damn…" he hissed. "I’ve…been rejected. Too late." He raised his voice, and his lips stained crimson with the same life fluid. "You’re too late!" he shouted, but the outburst cost him greatly. "No one…will use me. And I…" He yanked her closer suddenly. "You…you’ve got to kill the Father Angel. Only you. You…"

"Why?" Tifa insisted. By now it was obvious that he was going to die; all she could do was struggle to understand what he was trying to say. "Why me? Who is the Father Angel?"

"He’s…" Cecil swallowed blood and started to speak again. "He is—"

The sword came down before Tifa realized that another man had been in the room. It cut through Cecil’s armor like cloth and stabbed him dead in the heart; he didn’t suffer a moment more. Tifa raised her head; the assailant was a tall man with a pale face and lavender hair, and his thick black robes hung off his limbs like vines off a tree. For a moment she imagined Sephiroth’s face pasted on that visage, but a look in his eyes—a deep sapphire—told her otherwise. The resemblance was frightening but it wasn’t him. And just when she thought she was losing her mind, another man dressed in a navy Turk’s suit came through the door. He leveled a rifle at the SOLDIER. "Get down."

Tifa ducked as the gun fired, impacting with a dull explosion against the target’s chest. She didn’t see what happened next; she heard the sound of glass breaking, and someone outside screamed. Then a ruffling of fabric, and silence.

When she finally lifted her head, both of the strange men were gone. A chill wind blew her hair from the shattered window. She was alone with Cecil’s corpse, his blood swirling and mixing with that which she assumed was the stranger’s. As a final courtesy she closed the man’s eyes. Then she moved to the window.

The Turk was lying on his back in the middle of the street, surrounded by curious onlookers. Sabin and Aeris were among them. They waved for her to come down. Tifa glanced at the corpse one last time before hurrying out of the house and over to the group. "Is he dead?" she asked. She felt as if she would become sick if another man died.

"No," the Turk said, though the tone of his voice, cold and hollow, could very well have come from a cadaver. "I’m not dead. It takes more than a fall through a window to kill me."

"Who are you?" Aeris asked, kneeling by his head. "A Turk, right? I don’t recognize you."

He opened his eyes and stared at her blankly for a moment. "Your eyes," he murmured. "You’re an Ancient, aren’t you?"

She nodded. "Yes. Aeris Gainsborough. And you?"

"Vincent," he replied after a considerable pause. "Vincent Valentine." He climbed to his feet, crushing shards of glass beneath his shoes. "Yes, I was a Turk."

"Not anymore?"

"No."

By now the townsfolk were unusually uninterested—one would have assumed a man falling out of a two story window and surviving unscratched was a feat to remember, but they treated the occurrence as if it were commonplace and moved on. No one gave them a second look.

Tifa gave the townspeople only a bit of notice before transferring her gaze to the man. He was rather tall but not built heavily at all. His face was even paler than the SOLDIER member’s, surrounded and half covered by locks of thick black hair. His suit looked as if it might crumble to pieces about him; it was also torn from the glass, and those incisions were the only evidence of his accident. "You people don’t belong here," he said. "Nibelheim isn’t a place for anyone. I suggest you leave."

"What happened to it?" Tifa demanded, unwilling to give up on her hometown without a fight. "Nibelheim was destroyed five years ago—is this an illusion? A recreation?"

He blinked slowly. "I’m not sure," he admitted. "Both, for all I know. Or neither. But I know it is not as it should be. It was built with lies."

"None of the people we spoke to remember the incident," Sabin added, wanting to feel useful.

Vincent looked them over carefully. "You’re going after Sephiroth, aren’t you?" he asked in a low voice. "And the Father of the Angels."

Tifa blinked rapidly. "You mean, Sephiroth isn’t the Father Angel?"

He shook his head. "The Father of the Angels holds all the power of Jenova, and he is well protected by Sephiroth’s puppets. Finding and eliminating him will not be easy for you."

"Do you know him?" she asked hopefully.

"Not by name, but maybe if I were to see him."

"But how?" Despite the gravity of the situation Aeris’ tone was one of spirited curiosity. "How come you know about Sephiroth and the Father Angel, and why are you telling us?"

His red eyes met hers for an instant, and something in them forced him to turn away. "I knew Sephiroth’s mother, and I have cells of Jenova in me," he explained. "Not enough to be driven mad by it, but enough to make me understand."

The group exchanged glances. "Sephiroth’s mother?"

"Hey guys!" Nadia came running then, Cloud perched on her shoulder. "I heard yelling. Are you okay?"

"We’re fine," Aeris assured, then she gestured to the former Turk. "This is Vincent Valentine."

"Vincent Valentine?" she repeated in amazement. "The Vincent Valentine? I heard you were dead." She shook his hand vigorously. "Man, you’ve got to be old by now. At least fifty!"

He didn’t look fifty—he looked no older than thirty. Her presence also seemed to be making him uncomfortable, if such an emotion was capable of being displayed on so cold a face. "It’s good to know I’m famous," he muttered, retrieving his hand. "But I’ll be going now." He started to leave.

"Wait!" Tifa called after him. "Can’t you tell me about the Father Angel? What does he look like?"

Vincent glanced at her over his shoulder. "What concern is it of yours?"

"The man in my house—I mean, that house—told me that I had to kill him. That I was the only one who could."

"Then you’ll know him when you find him," he responded blandly. "Good luck." He calmly walked toward the Shin-ra mansion and disappeared inside.

"What a weird guy," Aeris said, smiling secretively. "Kinda cute, but weird."

"He was a Turk—a good one." Nadia watched him go, and a look much like awe had crept upon her face. "Tseng used to talk about him a lot. But that was years ago."

"Well preserved?" Aeris suggested.

"We shouldn’t have let him go," Sabin said, scratching the back of his neck. "We could have learned something."

Nadia grinned triumphantly. "Won’t need him." She held up a leather bound journal. "Cloud picked out that book Sephiroth had—the one about Jenova. Still has the picture, too." She handed it to Tifa.

Tifa paged through it quickly, stopping on the picture of Jenova. It caused her to shiver, and she quickly turned it away. "We’ll look through it later. First, I’d like to find a way to get Cloud back to normal."

The lizard snorted in agreement. Aeris giggled, and suddenly she realized something. "Oh yeah! I talked to the store owner; seems this kind of thing happens a lot, with those lizards running around. There’s only one way to undo a transformation spell."

"And what’s that?"

She grinned mischievously. "With a kiss."

Tifa lifted an eyebrow. "I thought that only worked on frogs."

"Well, a maiden’s kiss, to be precise," she explained. "A maiden being…you know. A virgin, I guess."

Sabin laughed good-naturedly, grabbing Cloud by the tail and holding him upside down. "Looks like you’re in trouble," he joked. "Where’re we gonna find something like that?" The lizard squirmed and hissed angrily.

"Ox!" Nadia exclaimed, snatching Cloud away. "I’ll show you." But just as she was about to kiss him, he stuck out a thin black tongue and wiggled it at her. She immediately dropped him. "Ech! Lizard spit. Gross."

"Oh, he’s just being stubborn," Aeris giggled, picking him off the street and dusting him off. "Maybe he doesn’t think it’ll work with you."

"You’re terrible! Are you implying that—"

"Settle down, kids," Sabin intervened. "Someone just do it so we can get on with things."

Tifa could tell that the reptile eyes were on her, but she ignored it. "Go on, Aeris."

A look of puzzlement crossed Aeris’s face, but it passed quickly. She unfolded Cloud’s bundle of clothes that she had with her and pulled out his pants: "If he changed back the way he is now," she reasoned, "then it’d be really embarrassing." Once she’d shoved his legs into the pant legs—the tail was the biggest problem—she held him up. "Now keep your tongue in your mouth," she instructed, blushing a bit.

For annoyance’s sake Cloud opened his mouth and tried to bit her, and was promptly knocked on the head. "Stop that," she snapped. "Don’t be stupid." She kissed him on his dry lips, and instantly their Cloud was back. For a moment she had the sensation of her lips pressed to his—even after he was human—but then she shied away, her cheeks growing red.

Cloud laughed. "For a second there I was afraid it might not work," he said obnoxiously. "Had me worried, Aeris."

She made a face, but couldn’t find a retort quick enough and forfeited the chance. "Can we please just move on to something helpful?"

"Oh," Tifa rejoined, a bit distant, "what happened to that guy? The SOLDIER?"

"You mean the pink-haired guy?" asked Sabin.

"It was purple," Aeris contradicted. "He came out the window and flew away—literally. He was bleeding pretty badly."

"There was another SOLDIER in my room." Tifa glanced back at her house, trying to sort out all she’d been told. "He was trying to tell me about the Father Angel, but that other one killed him before he finished." Her voice lowered. "He said that I was the only one that could kill the Father."

She could feel Cloud’s gaze on her heavily, and when she looked at him all the previous humor had fled form his expression. "What SOLDIER?" he demanded. "Where?"

"I’ll show you." Despite a warning glance from Sabin she took him into the house, and led him to the room. He paused at the entrance, seemingly embarrassed, before stepping inside.

The body was still there, prone and lifeless. Tifa couldn’t help but cringe at the sight and the smell. She turned to see Cloud’s reaction.

Cloud had stopped dead, his face going pale. Two emotions—hatred and fear—crawled over his expression and sent his fists shaking. It was a strange look—a look she might have remembered seeing on his face on the Shin-ra boat had he not been wearing the helmet. It was a look of confusion, as if trying to assure himself over and over that he was viewing a lie. But no matter how many times he looked at it or how closely, everything remained the same.

"Cloud?" He blinked several times as his name was mentioned. "What’s wrong? Do you know him?"

"I…" Then he closed his mouth. A moment passed before he’d worked up the courage to speak again. "I don’t know this man."

"He told me his name was Cecil," Tifa prompted helpfully. "A SOLDIER."

Cloud checked the corpse, hoping to see the familiar violet-haired man. He willed his eyes to behold that brave and honest fighter that had done so many great things. But he didn’t see him now. All he could see was a man broken, surrounded in blood, covered in waves of his own silver hair. Once he realized that he turned and left.

Tifa cast one last glance at the body, wondering if Cloud had seen the same thing she was looking at now. Sighing deeply she followed his exit. By the time she caught up with him, he had already met with the others; they were huddled together, speaking quietly. "Don’t look now," Nadia said as they joined, "but the Turks are watching us. Rude and Reno." She didn’t dare indicate but her gaze flickered to a shadowed alleyway between two houses.

Tifa resisted the temptation to look. "Are you sure?"

"Positive." She laughed. "Hell, those losers used to baby-sit me—we played hide and seek together. I always won." She winked at them. "They stick out like a lizard with chocobo hair."

"Very funny," Cloud retorted, though he obviously wasn’t in the mood for her humor. Tifa was surprised by how quickly he seemed to have shaken off the entire matter, as she herself was particularly disturbed—what had Cloud seen? She knew it must have been Sephiroth. But then Cloud was talking again and her pondering was cut short. "But as wonderful as this is we have to get going; we have to get to the reactor before nightfall."

"The reactor?" Sabin exchanged a glance with Aeris, who shrugged. "We’re going to the Nibel Reactor?"

He nodded. "Yes. That’s where our answers are." He raised his head to the mountains, deep and foreboding, that loomed over the small town. "Everything we need to know will be there."

"What about the Turks?"

"Leave’em," Cloud replied. "They can follow us if they want—won’t do them any good. Shin-ra’s no match for Sephiroth."

Sabin smiled grimly. "And I suppose we are?"

Cloud didn’t act as if he’d heard that last comment, as he was already planning on supplies that they would need. They hardly had time to voice complaints or even comments as he instructed them on the various things—they were running out of food supplies and water, and the Nibel mountains were treacherous and monster-ridden, meaning they should invest in any powerful materia that was available. He also wanted to buy a new sword. Despite their limited funding they divided the money and set off on different tasks. But Cloud also had something else on his mind, and as they began to split up he pulled Aeris aside. Somehow he felt more comfortable confiding in her than in Tifa or the others—she seemed to understand how he felt, and she didn’t judge. "Can I talk to your for a second?"

"Of course, Cloud." She smiled at him sweetly, and he knew that he’d made the right choice in picking her. "What is it?"

"It’s…" He might have hesitated but her eyes were curious and patient, and they seemed to dissolve his anxiety. "Do you remember what I said before, about seeing Sephiroth everywhere?"

"Yes." Her face became serious but not accusing or harsh. "Is that it? You could see him in there?"

Her instant comprehension allowed him to continue with a bit more confidence. "Yeah. But Tifa said it was a SOLDIER I once knew. What happens if the real one shows up? How will I know if it’s a fake?"

Aeris considered his question very seriously, giving the appearance of a child in deep thought. "Why don’t you explain to me exactly what he looks like?" she suggested. "Silver hair, right? And green eyes like mine. And being an Ancient, I think I might be able to tell." She smiled encouragingly. "So don’t worry, Cloud. I think by the time the real one shows up you’ll be able to tell, too."

Cloud sighed, accepting her assurance. "Yeah. Thanks, Aeris."

"Don’t mention it. Now let’s go stock up."

Just as Locke had predicted, they reached Cosmo Canyon just as evening had set in, and the air was growing cool. The city was an amazing sight—built entirely on a high peak, tunnels and halls had been carved into the mountain rock side. They gained their power from huge windmills, using the fierce gusts to collect electricity. "It isn’t as efficient as Mako," Nanaki explained, "but at least we’re not killing the planet."

"It’s beautiful," Celes murmured, watching the orange rays of liquid sun as they melted soothingly over the crevices in the rock. "I’ve heard a lot about this place, but never came."

"Somehow I always end up back here," Locke said with a laugh, falling into step beside her as they entered the central town area: a flat outcropping of rock several hundred feet in diameter. "What a place, right?"

"It’s magnificent." She grimaced suddenly as a sharp pain spread through her stomach, and unconsciously she gripped her gut.

He noticed immediately. "What’s wrong?"

"It’s nothing. I’m okay."

Just then a man came up to them—he looked much like Melchior from Gongaga, but perhaps not as portly as the other and with a wiser face. He smiled at the group. "Welcome back, Nanaki."

"Grandfather!" Nanaki ran over and received an affectionate scratch behind the ears. "I missed you, Grandfather," he said. "I had some trouble. Did I worry you?"

"Not with Mog here to set me straight," he chuckled. "We’re eating dinner now—why don’t you all join us? I’m so grateful that you helped see Nanaki back."

"Mog?" Locke repeated, his face lighting up. "Haven’t seen him for a while! Why the hell not?"

"That sounds wonderful." Celes smiled faintly at Locke’s enthusiasm. Since their time together in Gongaga it seemed that a bond had formed between the two, and any bitterness she might have felt against him because of his earlier actions had quickly disappeared.

But then her insides began to twist again. She’d felt a similar sensation all throughout their journey that day, and quickly debated in her mind. "But I’m afraid I’m not really feeling well right now," she said after a moment. "Do you have an inn for me to rest?"

Nanaki’s Grandfather nodded. "Tell them Belthasar sent you, and they’ll let you stay for free. We often take in travelers such as yourself, so it isn’t a problem."

"Thank you." Before leaving she glanced at Locke; he was watching her with concern. "I’m fine," she assured. "You all look hungry, so go ahead. I’ll meet up with you later."

The treasure hunter wasn’t convinced, but he consented. "Take care."

"I have some questions I’d like to ask you," Lucca was saying to Belthasar as they made their way toward the dinning hall. "Do you know about Sephiroth? About what’s going on?"

"All knowledge I have is from the earth itself," he answered gravely. "Yes, I’ve heard of Sephiroth. His spirit is causing chaos everywhere, especially in the Lifestream."

"Lifestream?"

"I’ll explain in a moment." They reached the hall, and peeked inside curiously. A large circular table was there, and seated at it was a very peculiar looking creature: a moogle. He was larger than most—at least four feet tall—with smooth white skin and red leather wings. He had a face like that of a koala: a round nose, pinched eyes, and triangular ears. The teddy-bear image was completed by his pudgy round body. His chubby fingers were curled around the stem of a large wine glass which he drank from voraciously.

"Mog!" Nanaki padded over to him and balanced his front paws on the edge of the table. He seemed unusually energetic now that he was home. "I told you not to drink so much."

Mog set the glass down and regarded the beast blankly for a moment before the realization finally penetrated him. "Oh, Nanaki. Welcome back." He popped a radish into his mouth. "I told that old crone not to get his robes in a twist. Told him you’d be back causing trouble soon enough."

"I don’t cause trouble."

"Of course not," he replied sarcastically.

"Mog," Belthasar said, motioning for everyone to step inside, "we have some guests."

"Hey, shorty," Locke greeted with a wave.

"Why, if it isn’t King Thief Cole," the moogle declared heartily. He was about to continue with some elaborate salutation when suddenly his expression hardened. He slapped his napkin down on the table and marched directly to Cait Sith. "What, may I ask, is this?" he demanded, poking the doll in its huge stomach.

Cait Sith looked down from his perch on the doll’s head. "It’s just a doll."

"A doll?" he half exclaimed. "A moogle doll?"

"Uh…yeah."

"It’s an outrage!" The stout creature threw his arms in the air as a sign of his exasperation. "This monstrosity a moogle? It’s hideous! Are you trying to offend me?"

The cat shrugged. "Hey, hey, I didn’t make it. Calm down."

"I will not calm down! This is an insult, a mockery!" He then began a rattling speech in a language composed mainly of the syllables "ku" and "po", one which no one understood. They watched, silently waiting, as his anger ran its course, until finally he stopped, panting.

"Are you finished?" Cait Sith asked.

Mog glared at him—a rather unsuccessful expression on his cute face. "No, I’m not—"

"Calm down, little fellow," Locke said, patting him on the head. "Cait Sith didn’t mean anything."

"’Little fellow?’" he fumed. "That does it—I’ve had enough!" He pushed past them and out into the hall, stomping away.

Belthasar sighed, then turned to his guests. "Sorry about that," he apologized politely. "Moogles are very proud, especially Mog. He can get worked up easily sometimes."

"I guess it’s my fault." Cait Sith scratched his head. "Didn’t mean to offend him."

"That’s all right—it wasn’t your fault." He straightened his coat. "Anyway, why don’t we eat? You look famished." He gestured to the now empty table. "Have a seat. I’ll have some food brought."

Once the meal was done the mood became serious. "Can you tell us about Sephiroth?" Lucca asked, eager to get to business. "We’ve been trying to follow him, but things haven’t gone so well."

Belthasar nodded thoughtfully, folding his hands. "The Lifestream has been disturbed," he murmured. "Sephiroth’s spirit is attempting to dominate it rather than be absorbed by it—somehow, he can’t be absorbed. It leaves his soul free to surface and manipulate the living. Many have died."

"Many members of SOLDIER." She paused. "Now, what exactly is the Lifestream?"

"The energy of the planet," Locke explained in his stead. "Shin-ra harvests Mako, right? Well, Mako is planet energy, and it moves in a wave under the earth’s surface."

"Actually, it’s spirit energy," Belthasar added. "When a plant or animal dies its energy—its soul—absorbs into the Lifestream. Part of that energy is placed into every new life born—a cycle of life and death." His voice became increasingly grim. "If that energy were to be destroyed or ran out, the entire planet would crumble and die."

Cait Sith’s tail drooped. "Wow. That’s rough. No wonder Avalanche was so determined to kick out Shin-ra."

Lucca considered the facts. "So Sephiroth is dead, but his ‘spirit’ is still active, and he’s trying to gain all that energy."

"I believe so, yes," Belthasar assumed. "Unless he has some other intent."

"And he is able to manipulate the living?"

"It’s possible."

Nanaki’s ears perked up, and he commented, "A spirit cannot do much on its own, but they can affect those that think of them often, or those that are connected to them." He lowered his head. "My father died many years ago, but I can still feel his spirit with me, guiding me."

"I think our situation is a bit more complicated," Locke said. "Sephiroth is using the SOLDIER members for his dirty work. If they get the Black Materia—"

"They won’t."

Everyone turned, surprised, as it was Glenn’s first time engaging in the exchange. He had his elbows rested on the table, staring blankly at his water glass that was half full. His golden eyes almost seemed to emit their own light. "If they don’t have it by now," he said quietly, "then it’s possible that we’ll never find it."

"Why’s that?" Locke asked.

"Because Sephiroth knows where it is. He’s always known, and if that was his goal then we would all be dead by now." He took the glass and sipped from it briefly. "But back in Gold Saucer Cain mentioned someone known as the Father Angel—I think that man should be our prime concern."

"But how can you be sure?" Lucca persisted.

Glenn blinked slowly. "He’s had five years to find the materia, even knowing where it is, but he has not been able to use it," he pointed out. "We have to assume that there is something else in his agenda we’ve not determined yet, which is hampering his success. It may be our only chance."

"And you think that’s the Father Angel?"

"It makes sense. Cain said for us to kill him."

"But this is all just speculation," Cait Sith interrupted. "What do we know for sure?"

This caused them to pause. After a moment of collecting her thoughts Lucca cleared her throat and began. "We know that Sephiroth is up to something that involves the Black Materia, Jenova, and something known as the Father Angel. But that might very well be Sephiroth himself. He’s also using SODLDIER members to get these things done." She sighed. "That’s about all we know certainly—the rest is just guesses in the dark."

"We’ll have to find the answers soon," Belthasar said quietly. "I know my knowledge may not help you much, but if you need anything, please let me know. I would be happy to assist in any way that I can."

"Thanks. We’ll need it."

To Next Chapter

Return