Chapter Text
The blade shot through Aeris and erupted out of her chest. The muscles in her legs gave out, the blazing pain in her chest intensifying, every other part of her now numb. What happened? Not a result of Cloud's actions; the gigantic blade of the Buster Sword still lay nearby after tumbling from his grip. How long did she still have? She could still think - if not move - caught between life and death.
A wrench and time moved on. The blade retracted and the fabric of her dress whispered with the movement. A tremor deep inside; a sharpened edge scraped across bone. So abrupt and effortless going in; so awkward when pulled back. An increase in the pain, near indiscernible on top of her existing agony.
Her hair fell about her shoulders, ribbon fluttered to the ground. A chime nearby; something hard striking the crystalline floor and with it other sounds came flooding back. She fell forwards; the floor rushed up to meet her and the air filled with shouts and screams.
It could not end like this. Not so close to success. Not when so much remained to accomplish.
With a strangled gasp she forced her arms out in front of her, bracing for the impact. Her knuckles smashed against the stone, her wrists wrenched in awkward directions, the strain almost collapsing her to the floor. Lucky if she had not broken her hands - or bruised her knuckles. An almost comical notion; both possibilities the least of her worries now.
She clenched her fingers tighter and braced her wrists. A familiar voice whispered her name somewhere close by. Who? Hard to focus and the pain threatened to overwhelm again. She grit her teeth. Needed to get back on her feet. Her back tensed, the shift in posture sparking a new torrent of pain. Had she torn her wound still further? Or by stopping the fall? No matter. Something to deal with later. With a grunt of effort, Aeris pushed her body upright and back onto her haunches, braced for a new agony. It failed to arrive.
Sephiroth stared down at her, his lips twisted into a sneer. “The Cetra are hardier than I expected.” The Masamune swept up, ready to strike again. Cloud shouted something, his desperate plea echoed by her friends. Aeris could not move or respond; no breath left in her lungs. Every fibre focused on staying upright. So much for her supposed resistance. Sephiroth’s sword arced through the air. Aeris raised her hand. To what end? To ward off the blow? To cast a spell? No chance; a dry mouth and thick tongue rendered her useless.
The sword hit her hand and sliced into her skin. She clutched at it, pain blossoming from her palm, but somehow distant, manageable. Blood trickled down her arm. Sephiroth’s former amusement vanished and his face twisted into fury. He pulled at his sword but Aeris clung tight to it. Sephiroth had roamed free and evaded the repercussions of his perversions for too long. She could hang on, keep on going until the settlement of his debt if nothing else. Aeris found a new strength. Her legs recovered first and an odd sense of refreshment flooded through her up to her hand. Her fingers gripped the blade tighter and Aeris pushed the Masamune back, rising to her feet. She refused to let go and Sephiroth stumbled.
The pain dwindled and the flow of blood from her hand slowed to nothing. “You are an enemy of the Planet.” Not a new revelation; the man's words clear back in the Temple. But now she understood the intricacies of his plans, the true nature of the form before her. Aeris pushed a now wild-eyed Sephiroth backwards. No. Not Sephiroth; something else. She laughed. “You are nothing more than a puppet.” Something perhaps once human but no longer. Whatever the truth, she needed to end the illusion.
Aeris pulled on the Masamune and dragged the puppet closer, her other hand closing around its throat. No pulse there and the thing did not splutter for breath. It squirmed against her grip but she held firm. “I cannot be stopped." One of its hand clawed at her fingers. "You cannot stop me.”
“Perhaps.” Her cold tone sparked a new fear in the puppet. “But I can deny you this vessel.” She tore the Masamune from its hands and sent it sailing somewhere behind her. The fire spell triggered without invocation, a wreath of flame enveloping the thing leaving it shrieking in agony. She held on after it went limp, plumes of black smoke rising into the air. The puppet continued to burn, the blackened remains crumbling into ash.
The soot fell from Aeris's hand; still bloody palm beneath. A wound marred her skin but it no longer hurt, nor did the weakness of before return. She still lived. The assembled members of Avalanche stared at her in shock. Tifa and Yuffie took nervous steps forward, unsure. Aeris smiled. They needed reassurance. They needed a new objective. “We need to head North.”