Chapter Twenty-Six: "That’s All There Is To Know"

The air was filled with anticipation that night as everyone gathered around Cosmo Canyon’s central bonfire. Their numbers alarmed even themselves: seventeen men and woman and a beast, each with their destiny woven inextripicly into the fate of their very planet. And in Midgar Reeve was listening as well, as he’d been able to connect Cait Sith’s device to a computer in which to record the entire story. They had all waited a long time, and they were ready to understand.

Nadia and Crono were seated together, leaning against the furry bulk of Cait Sith’s moogle doll. They looked very cozy, eliciting grins from their friends. The cat himself was perched on the moogle’s head. On Nadia’s right lay Nanaki, his head rested on his paws, tail swiping the dirt. Lucca scratched behind his ears. Beside her were Belthasar, then Mog. Celes had chosen her seat next to him with Locke on her right, as the two of them had begun to find more and more comfort in each other’s presence. Next were Sabin and Cid, who was, as usual, smoking. He looked a bit bored already. Tifa was next to him, willing to tolerate the tobacco, and Cloud, Aeris, and Glenn.

"Crono and I read the entire book while you guys were gone," Nadia started out by saying. "The others, too. We learned a lot about the Jenova project, and Sephiroth. Some of it’s hard to believe, and there’s a lot of things left unsaid or guessed. We tried to sort out all of the important things."

"What about the Temple?" Cloud asked immediately. "And the Black Materia?"

But before she could answer, Mog held up a hand. "They’ll be time for that later. Right now, you have to understand your enemy."

Nadia took a deep breath, as if readying herself for the tale ahead. "A little over thirty years ago Professor Gast discovered a creature in the arctic," she began. "He and his science buddies decided that it was an Ancient—or rather, a Cetra—known as Jenova. They brought her to Shin-ra, and found some kind of creature lodged in her stomach, which had somehow mutated all of Jenova’s cells to match its own."

"So the problem isn’t really Jenova at all?" Lucca asked, adjusting her glasses. "She was a victim, just like all the SOLDIER members?"

"That’s right," she confirmed. "Jenova was just a Cetra, but then the creature kind of possessed..." She paused for a moment, casting a glance at Celes. "That is…"

Celes noticed the look. "What happened to Jenova is that same thing that happened to me," she said quietly. "The parasite entered her body and began mutating her cells. When we refer to Jenova cells, as in the SOLDIER members, we are actually referring to those cells that were tainted by the parasite."

"Does this parasite have a name?" questioned Aeris, her eyes sharp and attentive.

"Yes," continued Nadia. "But that’ll come in later." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, a few years later they decided to test it on humans."

"On Sephiroth?" Sabin suggested.

"No—a woman named Lucretia. Her child was given cells from Jenova’s brain before it was born. Sephiroth was the child." She paused, pursing her lips. "Vincent—the Turk we met in Nibelheim—knew about it. The book we found was actually a diary from one of the staff members, and she mentioned Vincent several times, and that he might have been in love with Lucretia. But he and Lucretia disappeared just after Sephiroth was born. It’s reported that they died."

A moment of respectful silence passed as they wondered what might have become of the Turk and Sephiroth’s mother. Nanaki continued. "Sephiroth was called number one," he said, gathering their attention back, "but there was another: General Celes was born at the same time to an unmarried woman in Nibelheim. Dr. Gast suggested that they raise her along with Sephiroth as a control for the experiment, though four years later Hojo injected her with Jenova cells anyway."

"I…" Celes glared at him in disbelief. "That’s…" She’d never been told anything about her mother, only that she died giving birth. She hadn’t known that Nibelheim was her home, or even that she had one. It was difficult listening to him say those things so calmly.

"You can read the report later, if you like."

"No." She straightened, and felt Locke’s hand take hers. "Keep going. I believe you."

The beast nodded. "That was the beginning of SOLDIER. However, in the seventeenth year there was an accident, and several members were murdered—the first of SOLDIER to have ever died. The program was almost shut down a number of times due to insecurities in the executives. Then five years ago Sephiroth went mad and destroyed Nibelheim, which was quickly rebuilt, and suspicions were raised. No more entries were allowed until last year."

"The book doesn’t mention either of those incidents with much detail," Nadia added. "Whoever wrote it wasn’t there, and no one had a clue as to what was going on." Her eyes drifted. "Well, except for Glenn."

Everyone else’s gaze moved as well. Glenn shifted in the seat that had been arranged for him. "I guess it’s my turn, then," he said, already weary. "Time to tell the story."

"The whole story," spoke up Locke.

Their eyes met, and stayed like that for a moment. "The whole story," he agreed quietly. He closed his eyes then. "It was twelve years ago, the first incident involving SOLDIER. I was eighteen years old, part of a Shin-ra’s less prominent, ordinary blue-coat soldiers. But because I was strong I was grouped with two SOLDIER members, Cyrus and Algus, and another soldier whose name was Vicks. Even though Cyrus was almost ten years older than me, we’d known each other for a long time and were best friends. The mission that started it was when we went to Mideel, twelve years ago…"

"God, this heat is awful," Algus complained, wiping his brow of sweat. "What the hell are we doing here?"

"There was a Mako leak reported," replied Cyrus simply. He’d grown accustomed to the younger man’s constant wining. "It’s near the edge of town. It’s already late, so we’ll check out the damage and spend the night at the inn. In the morning we’ll report back with Shin-ra and start back."

As he’d expected, Algus quickly found another argument. "So it took us days to get here, and now we’re gong to pack up and leave?"

"Precisely. Vicks, why don’t you go get us two rooms? We’ll check it out."

As Vicks left, they were met by the village elder, who led them to a field outside of town. Or rather, what had once been a field. Now there was only a large crater swirling with brilliant green filaments of light. A strange humming sound drifted about in the air with sweet melody. Glenn had never seen anything quite like it; it was beautiful.

Cyrus came forward slowly, and he dipped his hand in the sparkling emerald waves. He quickly pulled it back. "Lifestream," he murmured thoughtfully.

"Yes." The elder peered over his shoulder. "We’ve been having some monster problems, and then this crater showed up. We think the animals created it when fighting amongst themselves—Mideel is known for its Mako, after all."

He nodded. "Of course. Thank you for reporting this. We can have a crew come and seal this up in a matter of days." He stood. "In the meantime, we’ll take care of your monster problem."

"Thank you very much."

"Is that all?" Algus demanded once the man had left. "The strongest men in the world and we’re sent to baby-sit some village? It’s so ridiculous."

"It’s better than wasting time in Midgar," Glenn pointed out quietly. "At least we’re out."

He snorted. "At least this job’s worth your credentials. I’m going to the inn." He turned and marched angrily away.

"Has he always been like that?" Glenn asked once he’d gone.

Cyrus bent down to study the Lifestream crater once more. "As long as I’ve known him. It pays to be indifferent."

The youth knelt down beside him. "Hey, was it me, or was everyone acting really anxious back at Shin-ra?"

He hummed thoughtfully, as if having not really heard the question. After a moment he answered. "No, it’s not you. They’ve been trying to find excuses for all the other pairs to leave on random missions like this. They’re keeping us away from Kefka."

"Why Kefka?"

"Because it’s his birthday tomorrow."

"Birthday?" Sabin interrupted. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Celes decided that it would be best if she were to answer. "Something happens to members of SOLDIER when they turn thirty," she explained in a dull voice. "Most of them locked themselves in their rooms, or ran away for several weeks." She swallowed hard, having lived through many such experiences as the one member they all confided in. "When Link turned thirty, he had four heart attacks in one week and almost died. For two months Magus couldn’t stand and was deaf. Gilbert lost his voice. No one spoke of it, because it was a sign of weakness."

"It’s because of the parasite," Glenn added. "The creature itself has a thirty year growth span, and when its host reaches that age, it assumes that the next phase in its growth is ready to begin. In most cases cells from Jenova’s body were used, so the harm done was always only temporary. Now, if I could continue…"

But then Lucca spoke up. "Now how come I didn’t know any of this? No one ever mentioned Jenova with SOLDIERs."

To their surprise Belthasar spoke. "It was a security matter. They didn’t want the members to know." After taking in their confused looks he specified. "I used to work at Shin-ra in the Philosophy Department. Dr. Marquez, one of Gast’s assistants, was my mentor, for a time. I knew him personally, and my brothers and I knew about his research. We never had any proof, though." He straightened. "But let us hear from Glenn. I will share once he is finished."

That night the boiling heat kept Glenn awake, even lying atop all the sheets and with minimal clothing. His comrades didn’t seem to have a problem, however—he envied their rest. For hours it seemed he stared blankly at the ceiling. Sheep piled about his mind in the hundreds. But at one point he must have dozed for a while, because when he looked about Cyrus was gone. A bit wary he dressed and ventured out to search.

His wandering led him back to the Lifestream field, which glowed like billions of tiny fireflies against the velvet night. He could see the figure of two men there, standing side by side. They were talking in hushed tones. But one man’s voice—he recognized it as Cyrus;--rose suddenly in sharp command. The other only laughed. Watching the two silhouetted by the shimmering green, and the man’s wild, descending laughter—it was a scene he would never forget. As he came closer their words burned into his memory as well. "There’s no need to be alarmed. I’m only trying to be a help. Lifestream’s tricky business."

"But you shouldn’t be here, Kefka," Cyrus insisted. "You’re endangering yourself and us—don’t you understand—"

"Oh, bothersome nonsense," he cackled back. "Am I not the strongest man in the world? Why, I’m practically a god! Shouldn’t I do as I please?"

"You know I’m going to report this."

"Report—ha!" He laughed like a madman. "You’re a traitor. I hate traitors. I hate them!"

Kefka snatched Cyrus by the throat, and together they tumbled into the Lifestream. Glenn watched in horror. He ran forward and stared into the glittering expanse. "Cyrus? Cyrus!" He could see nothing within the mass, and panic rose in his chest.

Algus and Vicks came up behind him. "What’s going on?" the elder asked, yawning and annoyed.

"Kefka’s here," Glenn said, trying to stay calm but losing on the battle. "He and Cyrus fell in—"

"Kefka’s here?" Algus repeated. "What is he doing here? He’s supposed to be in Midgar."

A hand reached out of the Lifestream, and Glenn hurried to pull the man out. It was Cyrus, his skin already deathly pale and shivering. They dragged him away from the edge. "Cyrus, are you all right?" Glenn asked, rolling him onto his back. "What happened?"

"Damnit—damn—Kefka—monster," he babbled, the bright glow of his eyes overflowing the rest of his face. "Kefka—out—leave—damnit—"

"Look." Vicks pointed to the field to where a man’s figure had begun to ascend from the luminous mist. His cape swirled in a sourceless wind. As they watched, tiny spumes of the Lifestream lifted and surrounded his body, like the gently probing hands of a small child. He chuckled deeply. It was a sound filled with a kind of morbid pleasure, and triumph.

"We have—to go," Cyrus hissed, trying to stand. His legs refused to respond to his commands. "Must go…"

Algus was staring at the man above the field, his eyes wide and fearful. He began to back away. "He shouldn’t be here. We shouldn’t be here—"

"Cut it out," Glenn snapped, though he was equally afraid. Very slowly, Kefka began to walk across the surface toward them. His footsteps caused tiny ripples in the energy. "Get a hold of yourself. You’re supposed to be the strongest men in the world, aren’t you?"

"I am the strongest," Kefka declared, and his voice thundered throughout the clearing. He stepped onto the ground. "The rest of you are pathetic—I hate you!" His laughter resounded with even greater force. "I hate it." Cyrus shuddered as the azure orb eyes landed on him. "But, make do, make do. Come along, puppet. The Lifestream has taught us our purpose."

Cyrus climbed to his feet and began to follow as the SOLDIER member moved further away. "Cyrus, wait!" his friend called, though he was too shocked to follow. "Where are you going? Come back!"

"Damnit, they were right," Algus murmured in disbelief. "Stupid f***ing Kefka and his damn birthday…"

"Stop it—just shut up." Glenn stood, though he was still shaking. "Go report back to Shin-ra—I’m going after them."

Algus glared at him as if not comprehending. "What? What are you going to do?"

"Just do it!" Without waiting he started after the retreating pair. "Call the general—get some soldiers—anything! Just hurry!" But when he looked back he saw that neither man had moved. There was no time to worry about that now, though. If he turned back he would lose Kefka and Cyrus, as they were moving away at a swift pace.

"We have a fan club," Kefka chuckled, noticing their pursuer. "Make sure he pays dues."

Cyrus turned and drew his sword, forcing Glenn to stop. "Cyrus, listen to me," the younger pleaded. "Kefka—he’s done something to you—you have to come back."

"Get out of here," he snarled back. "Get out before he makes me kill you."

"No. I won’t—I can’t." This was his friend—his best friend, a brother, almost. They’d spent all their lives together. The thought of losing him this way sickened him. "I’m coming with you."

Kefka regarded the scene with amusement. "Let the shrimp come, if he can. Come, boy." He waved for him to join his side. "Let me tell you. I’ll tell you." He laughed. "We’re going to a very special place. You can come, if you can keep up. If you don’t, I’ll kill you."

Glenn felt his shaking begin anew, but he had not choice other than to follow. He couldn’t see Algus and Vicks anymore, and there was no one else in view to help. And he couldn’t leave his friend. He fell into step behind the caped man with Cyrus trailing a few steps behind, and they continued to walk. All that night they walked. Glenn’s body cried from exhaustion and lack of sleep and the heat, but they kept going. They walked all the next day beneath the harsh sun, until they came to the ocean. "Carry the boy," Kefka instructed, and he calmly began to stride atop the surface of the water like some misplaced deity. Cyrus hoisted his friend onto his back and started after. That was the only opportunity for sleep for the boy, walking across the ocean to a distant island.

As they traveled, Glenn dreamed. He could hear voices that he didn’t recognize, and only a few that he did. Cyrus’ dominated over all others. The man said that the Lifestream had made everything clear by releasing the truths in Kefka’s mind. He called it the Reunion. They were traveling to the Temple of the Ancients in order to get the Black Materia. It would make Kefka strong enough to destroy the earth. In his dreams he saw visions of the future—a planet, black and dead, and corpses littering its surface. He wept openly in his sleep at the immensity of the pain in it all.

Time had no meaning. They reached the Temple later than Glenn expected though far shorter than they ought to have had, considering their mode of transportation. Within the confines of the rock wall the Temple rose above them, layered of expertly carved stone with high-reaching columns and archways. But the beauty of the structure and the complexity of the design were lost on Glenn, staring and drained of all energy. Kefka, however, was ecstatic. He hummed a rather un-melodic tune as he pulled out a shiny blue stone and fit it into an altar just inside the temple’s entrance. The floor shifted beneath them, lowering the three into the Temple’s lower level.

It took hours to travel through the temple. The interior was a maze of twisting corridors and staircases, and even though Kefka appeared to know where he was going, navigating the turns and rooms proved to be a difficult task. Glenn stayed in the rear, glancing about in dread and amazement at everything that surrounded him. He was too surprised by everything to know what to think.

"Isn’t it amazing?" Kefka declared as they finally entered the last room. A dozen torches lined the walls, their golden light dancing strangely over the marks of elaborate murals. "I can feel the power: here, there, everywhere! They’re afraid of me! Ha! Be afraid!" He started down the long hall, and Cyrus began to follow without protest. Glenn hurried to keep up.

"Who’s there?" Glenn turned back, searching the hall. He saw no one, even as every instinct indicated he was being watched. He returned to following Cyrus.

He stopped, growing fearful. "Who’s there? What do you want?"

Glenn glanced about, watching as Kefka and Cyrus continued to move away. He hesitated, but something about the voice, deep and sweet, forced him to do as it commanded. He followed it and came to a large painting of what looked like an angel, feathered wings spread and arms wide in a welcoming gesture. When he put his hand out, it moved through the picture as if it weren’t even there. "What is this?" He stepped cautiously through, entering a small chamber with stone pillars. The paintings inside were even more detailed. In the center was a circular pool of a strange purplish liquid. The gentle waves encouraged him to come closer. The voices from his dreams were there, whispering secrets just beyond his hearing. Bewildered but curious he came forward. "Who are you?"

"We are." He knelt beside the pool, and let his hand drift through the strange fluid as he’d seen Cyrus doing before. The voices strengthened in volume. "The men in the temple… stop them…"

"Stop them?" he questioned the air. "But why? From doing what?"

"Ah ah ah—no cheating." He hadn’t the time to view his attacker before a hand fastened on the back of his neck and pushing him forward. His head was swallowed by the thick liquid and held there. The gel oozed about him, and he kept his mouth tightly closed to avoid swallowing it. Breath was impossible. No matter how hard he thrashed and struggled he was unable to break free from the man’s cold grasp. Panic surged through him. Cyrus, please help me—

"Do not be afraid," the voices told him. "Open yourself to us."

Glenn found his body obeying even as he was terrified. He opened his eyes, which immediately began to burn, and when his lips parted to cry out the flowing entity invaded there as well. It seeped into his veins, contaminated his blood, brain, and heart with its sweet stench. It filled his being to overflowing; images of past and future paraded like faded memories through the corridors of his mind. He felt the power of the Temple, and with it came an understanding: the Temple itself was the Black Materia, stretched and shaped by ancient magic to hide it from those who would misuse its powers. And to use the Black Materia, the most powerful magic known to the cosmos, would be to call forth the ultimate of fate, and the deadliest of antagonists. With no exaggeration, a threat to the very life of the planet itself.

Suddenly the youth was released, and he dragged himself away from the pool. He did not gasp for breath nor did he need time to recover, as the spring had done it all for him. He felt alert and, for once, clear. He looked about; for a brief moment his eyes stung, and his throat was sore, but it passed and was forgotten. Kefka stood at the entrance to the chamber with Cyrus lying wounded at his feet. Then the mad-man left with an air of pride.

"Cyrus!" Glenn ran to his friend’s side and was horrified by the gaping wound in his abdomen. "Cyrus, we have to get out of here. This place is—"

"Go. Run, and don’t look back." The older man dragged himself to his feet by depending on the chamber wall. "I have something to do."

"What are you talking about?"

He pushed him away. "Leave me. That’s an order. It’s too late for me—I have to go." He turned and began to limp out of the room.

"Wait." Glenn started to follow but was stopped again by the voices, as now they were in his ears and in his body. They were part of him. "Take our gift."

"But…" He glanced over his shoulder. Behind the pool was an altar he hadn’t noticed before, raising a long, beautifully crafted broad sword. Waves of iridescent light flowed across the blade, reminding him of the Lifestream. When he touched the handle, it caused his fingers to tingle.

"This is our gift." He pulled it from the altar, and it flashed approval of its new master. "The great Sword of Mana, forged with the blood of the Cetra by our hero, Masamune. Imbued with the power of gods. Its purpose is to destroy Jenova and her children. Use it. You will become our new hero."

Glenn tested the weight of the sword—it was perfect for him, as if made for his hands, and he could almost imagine that the weapon itself was pleased with him. "What should I do?"

"I will." He left the chamber, and there the decision had to be made. Down one corridor led a trail of blood—Cyrus’s blood, he knew. But down the other corridor was Kefka, and the exit. He stayed there for several moments, his heart aching, before turning to follow Kefka’s path. He whispered prayers that he knew were wasted. On the way out he snatched the Keystone out of its place.

As soon as he’d left the Temple, the foundation began to tremble. The stone structure was encompassed in a dome of black energy, and lighting flashed from the cloudless sky. The transformation took only moments, and then it was gone. All that remained of the Temple of the Ancients as a tiny black sphere, lying at the bottom of a deep crater.

Kefka leapt into the pit, landing with a dull explosion of dust. He carefully plucked the materia out of its resting place. "So beautiful," he murmured, inspecting its perfect obsidian surface. Her pocketed the treasure and leapt out of the crater. There he met Glenn. "Oh, it’s the boy," he mocked.

"Hand it over," Glenn demanded, and he was surprised by the rough tone in his own voice. He pushed any insecurity quickly out of his thoughts, confronting his enemy.

"Hand it over?" Kefka repeated, as if the very concept were very funny. "You think you can order me?" His bellowing laughter no longer frightened the boy. "Step aside, runt. I have work to do." He started to walk away.

But the youth would not be deterred so easily. "You killed Cyrus," he hissed, raising the sword. It hummed anxiously in his grip. "For that—" his eyes narrowed "—I won’t forgive you."

"Spare me the lame injustice. Ha! Puppets don’t deserve to live."

With a vengeful cry Glenn charged, and though he was younger, less experienced, and far less powerful than his opponent, the blade stayed true to its mark. Kefka was shocked to feel blood running down his back. A moment later, though, Glenn was thrown to the ground with the force of a wind spell. After several muttered curses his enemy turned and fled into the forest, leaving a trail of dark blood in the ferns.

"A wise man once told me that ‘The only true fate is that which men make ourselves.’ I did what I knew I had to do—I followed him."

"I don’t know how long it took."

"I knew the way by the smell of his blood. He led me all the way to Nibelheim."

"We fought just outside the reactor in the mountains. Even though he was injured, he was more powerful than I imagined. I don’t know how I did it."

"I killed him."

Celes flinched, and looked away to hid a sudden flow of tears. Locke squeezed her hand tightly. "What about the Black Materia?" he asked in a low tone.

"Lost. It slipped from Kefka’s hand after he was dead, and fell over a cliff edge. I remember seeing Sephiroth follow it—I do not know how he got there—but I wasn’t strong enough to pursue." At long last he opened his eyes. "But he obviously does not have it now, because he hasn’t used it. Like I once said, if he had, then we’d all know." After a moment of silence his eyes sought those of the general. "I’m sorry," he told her sincerely. "About the boy. I had no intention of killing him."

But she didn’t indicate she’d even heard him, and he didn’t bother to wait for a reply. "Anyway, that is my story. That is why I hunt men now, and why the Temple was not there. I did not want Shin-ra to know—it’s better that they think we’re on equal terms, rather than that we have the advantage."

"My thoughts exactly," rejoined Mog.

"But we don’t have the advantage," said Tifa. "We have no idea where the Black Materia is."

"True," said Mog, "but we do have some information that may help us."

A thoughtful silence passed, and at last Sabin asked, "But what about this Kefka guy? Why are he and Sephiroth related?" He scratched his head. "Lots of other SOLDIER guys turned thirty. Why didn’t they lose it?"

Belthasar straightened indicating that it was now his turn. "All that is explained in the diary," he said. "Kefka and Sephiroth were both created by using cells specifically located in Jenova’s brain, in the spot of the highest concentration of parasite inhabitance. All members of SOLDIER are created with a certain type of cell, which accounts for their varying abilities. An example would be giving leg muscle cells: the man would then be granted increased speed and jumping abilities."

"That’s right," Celes added quietly, as if she knew the very man in question.

Tifa bit her lip, disturbed by the conversation. "If that’s true," she asked hesitantly, "then what did they give Cloud?"

All eyes turned. Cloud had remained silent during the tale, as if absorbing every word into his memory. Now he lifted his gaze to them, and shook his head as if to say he didn’t know. They understood that it was not a thing he wanted to discuss, but Lucca took it upon herself to at least make a comment. "We really have no idea what they might have done to Cloud. I’m just a technical assistant, and Celes didn’t even know about Jenova’s involvement until a little while ago." After a pause she added, for their sakes, "But if it was his brain he’d be much worse off than his is, right? So I don’t think we should worry about it too much." Her scientific background seemed to assure them, as she knew it would. Cloud, however, wasn’t convinced. He returned his gaze to the space in front of him.

Cid rubbed his eyes and puffed on his cigarette. "So basically we’re all in a bunch of shit. That’s about the only thing I understand here."

"Yeah, Cid," Cait Sith laughed. "Lots of big shit."

"You don’t get it any more than I do," he retorted. The cat raised its nose indignantly.

"Maybe we should take a break," Nanaki suggested.

Sabin groaned. "Could there possibly be any more?"

Mog cleared his throat. "Actually, there is." He held up the crimson summon materia. "but this will be difficult to understand, so you’re welcome to leave now, if you want."

"I’m staying," Cloud said, his first comment all night. "I want to hear."

Questioning looks were passed about the group, and in the end everyone stayed. They felt as if they had to, now that they were involved. "Go ahead," Cloud instructed. "We’re all listening."

The creature nodded. He began to mumble a chant. The materia glowed a bright red in response, then pink, and a figure started to take shape over his head. It was a woman of some sort, her body formed of glittering pink light with flames of thick, iridescent hair. The almost fluid-like substance flowed about her, rippling over her features and a pair of wide-spread angelic wings. Her eyes, two indentations in the form of her head, appeared soft and sad.

Aeris stood as the woman floated down to earth, her expression one of wonder and awe. She reached out hesitantly. They’re hands touched, and the apparition smile. "You are one," she said, her voice melodic and tender. "One of our people."

She nodded. "My name is Aeris."

"And I was once called Terra," she replied. "You seek the knowledge that I hold?"

"Yes; for our battle with Jenova. Will you help us?"

"I will do what I can." She glanced about the clearing. "There are many of you," she observed approvingly.

Aeris giggled. "There certainly are." She sat back down next to Cloud, filled with excitement at this new discovery.

"Then I’ll make sure you all understand. I don’t have much time here."

"Tell us about Jenova," said Tifa. "How can we stop her?"

Terra regarded her curiously for a moment, her face thoughtful, then nodded as if having understood something. "Jenova is not your threat now. I’ll start from the beginning."

"Shit," Cid groaned. "Another long story."

"But it’s necessary," Cait Sith pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Please begin," prompted Aeris.

Terra nodded, and began her tale. As she spoke, her words reached out to them all, creating images in their minds to help them comprehend what she was relating. "The Cetra were the original inhabitants of this planet. They were only visiting in a rest from their search for the Promised Land, but some decided to stay here. They became the human race, and over time lost their magical and spiritual abilities."

"Every school kid knows that," Sabin objected.

"Yes, but there is more." She was not cross at having been interrupted, only thoughtful and sympathetic. "2000 years ago a human magician created the Black Materia as a way to call the most destructive magic known: Lavos. He believed it to be a meteor from space. When it landed it created a large wound in the planet to the north."

"Wounded…the planet?" Aeris asked incredulously.

Terra nodded sadly. "When the planet is injured, it gathers spirit energy to heal itself; Mako, Mana, the Lifestream—it’s all the same." They could all see the glowing emerald hues in their minds, and almost felt its warmth. "The amount of energy gathered was enough to attract the attention of the remaining Cetra. They came to Earth to help heal the planet’s injury. They realized that Lavos was not a meteor—it was a creature. But by then it was too late. Lavos had created a spawn of itself. It implanted itself in the body of a young girl."

"Who was Jenova," hazarded Aeris.

"Yes. Jenova was gifted with all the powers of Lavos. When she reached the age of thirty she began to infect other Cetra with her cells and, after being dormant all that time, Lavos was revived and began draining energy from the Earth. That was the beginning of the war." She paused. "Are you all keeping up?"

Cid grunted. "Yeah, guess so. No turnin’ back now."

"I’m glad you feel that way." She smiled and continued. "The struggle lasted many years. In the end three Weapons were created to combat Lavos: the humans at the time created Altma Weapon through sorcery to protect the land; the Cetra created Ultros Weapon to control the seas; and the Earth itself created the Mana Weapon to liberate the skies. The three were able to seal Lavos back into hibernation, and Jenova was trapped in a cave in the Northern Crater. But those who were mutated by her could never return to their previous form, so they sealed their souls and powers into materia. Like me. I was one of the Cetra who was infected." Her image began to waver unsteadily. "I don’t have much time. My power is old."

"Please don’t go yet," Aeris pleaded, standing once more. "There are still so many questions I have."

"I cannot stay—my heart has grown weak." Terra came forward and embraced her suddenly, feeding all that remained of her fading soul into this, the last of her race. "You will know what to do when the time comes. You will know." She was slowly becoming transparent.

Aeris hugged her back, even as the woman was losing substance. She felt tears in her eyes. She didn’t want her to go—she couldn’t. This was the last of her people left, the only one who could possibly understand all that she felt and experienced. If this woman was lost to her there would be no way to discover what she wanted desperately to know. "Please, don’t go."

"Wait!" Cloud sprang to his feet. "What about me? What should I do?"

"I can’t stay. Good luck." The tips of her fingers began to disintegrate as she let Aeris go, as did her toes, and then her wrists and ankles and the tips of her hair. "I am tired of waiting. I wish you luck."

Cloud reached for her, but his hand only dissipated the tiny particles further. "Please just tell me—"

"Good-bye…" The last part of her was her lips, turned in a gentle smile. A breath of zephyr cleared away her form completely, and the air grew cold. Aeris slowly lowered her hands.

"I’m sorry," spoke up Mog, staring down at the materia that was now dark. "But she was tired. I’m afraid you can’t call her again."

Aeris closed her eyes briefly, taking several deep breaths to clear the knotting tension in her stomach. She pasted a smile into place for the sake of everyone else. "It’s okay. We’ve got enough information for one night, I think."

"But I still don’t know what I am," Cloud persisted.

The moogle shrugged. "You’ll have to find out for yourself. We all will."

"That’s all there is to know," said Belthasar. "It’s late. We would all befit greatly from sleep."

Everyone agreed, and with stifled yawns and few words they began to head to their rooms. Celes stayed behind a moment to speak to Glenn, and she helped him to his own bed. "Locke is very upset right now," she advised him, not really knowing why she bothered. "He’s hurt, but mostly angry. He spent three years looking for something you’d already found."

"I can never make that up to him, but I did it to help him." He sighed. "I think I made the right decision. Later, he’ll understand that."

"Maybe." She couldn’t help the overwhelming bitterness she had for the man, but after hearing his story it was subdued somewhat. "You really were a ‘hero,’ weren’t you?"

Glenn hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose. I’m sorry for the pain I caused you, whether you believe it or not." When she said nothing, he continued. "I have no hatred for SOLDIER members anymore. This may sound ironic, but I almost joined once."

Celes glanced at him curiously. "Why didn’t you?"

"Because I don’t like killing people."

She couldn’t bring herself to scowl. "You’re right. That is ironic."

"Life is full of such things."

"Yes."

She helped him into bed, and he thanked her. "Who would have thought you’d be helping me, eh?" he said almost pleasantly.

"Yes. Who." Then Celes left, closing the door softly behind her.

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