"Ms. Maddison?"
Vincent?
"Hey, I think I saw her eyelids flicker."
"Ms. Maddison, are you all right?"
Vincent...what happened?
"There, I'm sure I saw her move this time. She's coming around."
"All right, back up a little, guys. Give her some air. Ms. Maddison? Can you hear me?"
Vincent? Where are you?
"Yeah, here she comes. Ms. Maddison, it's me, Mason Lasling. Are you all right? What happened?"
Elira opened her eyes, but then shut them again tightly at the pain that shot suddenly through her head. Everything was so bright and she ached everywhere. She was conscious that her fingers were digging fiercely into two things: one hand held the tranquilizer gun, the other was clutching her pack to her stomach. The pack she'd nabbed out of the tree when Chaos had...
Oh no...
She forced her eyes open despite the lightning that lanced through her brain. She squinted at the sun that seemed to be directly above her, throwing the figures of three people, two standing over her, the other kneeling at her side, into shadow.
"Ms. Maddison. Thank God your awake. I was becoming afraid that you'd lapsed into a coma or something."
Elira turned her throbbing eyes to the man hunkered down beside her, trying to remember from his silhouette who he was. The name Mason Lasling floated through her mind unable to attach itself to any memory. And then it came back to her. The ride on the tug boat to Bone Village. The forest. Those creatures. Chaos, laughing and leering, breath like sulfur. The darts she'd managed somehow to get into her hand. Falling...
It hadn't been a dream. It had all happened, as real as the discomfort she felt now.
Vincent? Where are you?
She sat up quickly and then put a hand to her mouth as a wave of nausea flowed over her. The world spun crazily around her, her body reacting in indignation at her attempt to rush her recovery. However, she made herself ignore it, glancing around, looking for a lock of black hair, a spark of reflected light from a golden arm, anything. But there was no sign of him. No sign of him anywhere. She tried to push herself to her feet, panic rising up in her like the eager eruption of a volcano, but her movements were slow and awkward and she succeeded only in falling on her backside. Two of the figures moved rapidly to detain her.
"Careful now, take it easy. Looks like you're suffering from exhaustion. I think you should rest for a minute. Here, get her some water."
A water bottle was put to her lips. She coughed as the first trickle of surprisingly cold water reached her throat, but as the flow of the soothing liquid continued she managed to start swallowing, compelling her body to accept it. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the light, bringing the faces and forms of the three men huddled around her into focus. She only recognized one of them and the name of Mason Lasling suddenly gained meaning.
Mason peered at her in concern as he withdrew the bottle from her. "Are you all right?"
Elira nodded a little distractedly. She started to speak, but was set upon by another coughing fit. Eyes watering, she croaked out, "Where's the man I was with?"
Mason frowned and turned to the other two men. One of them shrugged and Mason turned back to look at her. "There was no man. Just you." He leaned in and put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine." Elira shoved his hand off and attempted to stand again. Instead of trying to stop her, Mason helped her to her feet, steadying her when the ground threatened to buck her again. She gave a faint, apologetic smile. "Thank you."
Mason smiled back, seemingly encouraged by her strength and coherency. "No problem. Hey, what happened to you anyway? When I saw you lying here it looked for all the world like you'd just put yourself down to sleep."
Elira shook her head. "I don't know," she answered truthfully. She guessed, however, that Vincent had placed her there after...after what? The last thing she remembered was falling. Falling like a rock, giddy with terror and the suspicion that it had all come to an end. But it hadn't ended. Not yet. She wanted to think that this was because of their strength, their perseverance.
But she couldn't keep from her mind the thought that it was just because fate wasn't done with them yet.
Elira tied the tranquilizer gun back onto her pack and then slid the straps over her shoulders. She didn't know what had happened to Vincent. Maybe Chaos had been able to overpower him while she had been asleep and had taken him far away. But she was inclined to believe that, since he had almost all of what was left of the tranquilizers, he wouldn't have allowed Chaos to resurface. Not when she had interrupted its process of killing her. Her life would've been forfeit, especially since she'd been asleep, defenseless. Chaos wouldn't have dallied again.
So Vincent had most likely gone on without her. She glanced at the sun above the clearing and wondered how much of a head start he had.
Mason had taken a step back as she'd readied herself. She smiled at him and adjusted Vincent's coat, wondering a little if these men thought it odd for her to be wearing something so large and cumbersome. "Thanks, Mason. I guess I'll be heading out again." She took a step in the direction she and Vincent had been traveling in before.
"Now, just hold it a minute." A strong hand on her arm stopped her. She turned to look at Mason in a little confusion. "Where're you going?"
"To the city," she answered, frowning a little. "I'm fine now, thank you, so I'm going to continue my trip."
Mason was shaking his head quickly. There was a look in his eyes that almost seemed fearful and the parched lips she saw beneath his mustache were pursed tightly. "No, I wouldn't. I advise you to come back to Bone Village with me and the others here and finish your trip another time. There's a creature in the city I've never seen in the area before and it looks like it could be dangerous."
"Yeah," pursued the one who had fetched the water bottle, a skinny man who looked to be in his late forties with craggy features and thinning hair. "We didn't even go back for the car. We just grabbed what we had..." Here he patted the leather satchel he had slung over one shoulder. "...and ran."
Mason was nodding gravely now, his fingers still holding tightly to her arm. "I don't know if it would've attacked us, but I didn't want to wait to find out. It looked almost like a man from a distance, but it had fangs and ears that just stuck up off of its head. It looked wounded, too. It kept stumbling. We just didn't want to stick around and be the target of an injured wild..." He glanced around, seemingly searching for a word. After a moment, he just sighed. "...whatever it was."
"Well, whatever it was," continued the third man, a large, bearded fellow who looked more like a lumberjack than someone interested in anthropology, "it didn't look friendly."
There was no doubt about it. What they had seen had been Vincent in the early stages of transformation. Elira looked off in the direction of the city as if to see it through the trees. And then she glanced back at Mason. "Well, thanks for the warning, but I think I'm going to go on anyway. I...I'm never going to get this chance again." She tried to take a step but Mason's fingers didn't loosen. She looked at him once more in a little irritation.
But Mason didn't look ready to back down. "Did you hear anything of what we just told you?"
Elira sighed. "Yes, I did, but I've got to get into the city." She attempted to step away from him again but he would not let go. She tugged at her arm and managed to wrench it from him, but before she could get out of range he reached out and grabbed her suddenly, pulling her to him, holding her arms to her sides as she struggled. She kicked backward at his shins with her heels and tried to elbow him in the ribs, squirming in her attempts to escape. "Let me go!"
Mason grimaced at her efforts to make him release her but he didn't relax his grip. "Ms. Maddison." He grunted as she managed a startlingly painful blow to his abdomen. "You're just confused by exhaustion." When she didn't stop struggling, he forced her around so that he could look her in the eyes. The movement surprised her enough to stop her opposition for a moment. "That thing could kill you if you go into the city," he stated firmly.
But this wasn't new information to Elira. She didn't want to hurt Mason since he was only trying to do what he thought was best for her, but for Vincent's sake she had to get away. Moving quickly, she kicked him soundly in the knee. With a cry, Mason's hold on her faltered and she managed to dance away. She fully expected him to give chase, but the bearded man spoke up before Mason could start after her.
"Let her go, Mason. If she's dead set about going into the city there's no way we'll be able to take her back with us unless we drag her kicking and screaming the whole way."
Elira stopped jogging and turned to watch Mason straighten up. There was a little anger and some pity in his gaze as he stared at her. "You're too young to be throwing your life away on something like this," he called out. "All I can hope is that you won't run into that thing." He turned away, gesturing at the other men so that they knew to follow.
Elira didn't stand watching them depart for long. She debated within herself for a moment whether or not to call after them to warn them about the strange black creatures, but then decided not to. She suspected Chaos had just created them as a distraction and that they were probably gone without a trace now. She just turned and ran through the forest toward the city despite the lingering complaints from her body, taking small breaks every once in a while when a stitch in her side became unbearable or her lungs felt too windburned to suck in another breath. In this way, it took her a little less than a half hour to reach the edge of the forest, though most of the way it was uphill.
She crested a rise in the land as she left the last of the trees behind and was urged to a stand-still by the sight unfolding before her. The City of the Ancients. She'd seen photographs in magazines, read articles, she'd even seen part of a documentary once, but nothing could've prepared her for what lay here in the greatest secret of the Northern Continent.
It was obvious to see that the city had once been beautiful. The smooth white rock of what was left of the curving buildings was like porcelain and it glistened oddly in the sun. The very layout was aesthetic in its perfect symmetry; it reminded her of Neo-Midgar with its sectors, though this city had been built to be much smaller and much simpler. Roads made of white rock separated each of the four sectors. The one dividing it from north to south led into what looked to be a range of small jutting mountains, providing a harshness to the background that Elira guessed would've at one time contrasted with the gentle splendor of the city. As it was now, however, the dark peaks merely highlighted the war-ravaged, age-worn structures. Elira had not been taught very much about the war except to learn that most of the Cetra had died in it. She wondered if it had been fought between the Ancients that stayed faithful to their God and the followers of Yenowa (or Jenova).
She wondered if the Cetra, seen to be an almost holy people, had been the ones to cause their own downfall, brother turning against brother until every house had been brought to the ground. In many of the sacred writings, Elira recalled hearing that humans had been blamed for the massacre. But perhaps the blame came because they hadn't interfered, not for any bloodshed on their part.
Though she could see quite a bit of the ruined city, the rise in the land wasn't enough to show her the entire thing. She searched in vain for any sign of Vincent, who she thought would be a visible black dot in the barren painting of white, but there was no movement anywhere. She had to find a higher locale, she decided. And, with that, she descended into the city.
Very few of the buildings even had a fully intact first floor, never mind a second. It took Elira a short while of hurried hunting before she was able to find a suitable structure. She walked up to the opening she guessed had been a doorway, as part of the wall beside it had been blown away with a blast that had scorched the flawless milky white of the rock. She paused for less than a moment examining the blackened wound, imagining in a little wonderment that it had been done with magic from those power shards called materia. They had once wielded great energy, she recalled, but now there were very few left, and the remaining ones could do little more than light the end of cigarette if its capability had been fire, or give someone a mild electric shock if it had been lightning. She walked through the doorway as silently as possible, almost able to feel the dead eyes of those who had once lived here almost two thousand years ago boring into her. She did her best to steel herself and made her way to the second floor.
Once on the second story, she discovered a chipped stone stairwell in a dark corner that led up to the flat roof. She ascended it carefully and squinted as she came into the sun once more. There were holes in what was the ceiling for the floor below and Elira navigated around them cautiously as she made her way to the edge. A foot-high balustrade of rock was all that separated her from a fall from the roof. Biting down her fear and determining not to look straight down, she made her way to the barrier and looked out over the city.
Some movement caught her eye almost immediately, but after a little steady observation Elira discovered that it wasn't Vincent. Though it was hard to tell from where she was, it looked as if a few people were exploring the city together, stopping every once in a while to explore something of interest. Scientists, she guessed. If she was right and Mason had been describing Vincent, she hoped these people would flee if they ran into Vincent/Chaos, though a quick sweep with her eyes told her that he wasn't in the area around them.
She eventually found him. It ended up he was shuffling along the road that outskirted the left side of the city, the road she had been traveling when she'd found this house, moving slowly but with purpose as if he had a particular destination in mind. She frowned, wondering where that could be. She hadn't seen anything yet that looked like a temple or any other place of religious significance that could be what they were searching for. Perhaps he knew something about this place from when he had traveled through it with Avalanche. She hoped so; she had no idea even where to start looking for a clue as to what to do now. The city had been their destination, and they had arrived. Now what? Elira hadn't ever really planned the trip this far. There was no blindingly obvious power shooting up out of the ground, so they would have to find it on their own.
If Vincent knew already, or even had a hunch, it would be of great help.
Elira skipped down the stairs and out of the house, running along the cracked stone roadway, the hard rubber of her sneakers clapping against it in the silence. Her legs were already tired from the run she'd just finished to get to the city, but she made herself press on. There was no time to waste. They were almost finished, and yet Elira had the feeling deep in the pit of her gut that the victory over Chaos wasn't going to be given to them willingly. They would have to fight fate all the way. And the further along they were when the fight began, the better it would turn out. At least, she hoped it would work that way.
Elira began to catch glimpses of Vincent between fractured buildings. Another twenty feet brought him into view ahead of her. She knew already that he could hear her approaching. She slowed as she neared him, breathing heavily, instinctively pulling off her pack to ready the tranquilizer gun, loading it carefully with her second-last dart. The last one she dropped into one of the deep pockets of Vincent's coat before she slipped back into her pack, just in case she had to get at it quickly.
He was almost lurching as he walked, hunched over as if carrying a great weight on his shoulders. He didn't glance at her as she continued to advance, neither did he slow, though her strides let her catch up fairly quickly to him. Only when there was no more than five feet between them did he stop walking. She then heard him speak, his voice strained and muffled strangely though he still didn't turn to look at her.
"Stay there, Elira. Come no closer."
His tone was filled with anguish. Elira wanted nothing more than to run to him and offer what comfort she could, even if it was just to put him out, but she respected his wishes and halted where she was.
"I wish you would've taken the opportunity and returned to Bone Village," he said wearily.
Elira sighed a little. When was he going to learn? "You know I couldn't have done that."
There was a pause before Vincent nodded, still facing away. "Yes, I know. I know you," he replied quietly. "But I still wish you would've. I didn't realize how dangerous it would be...I didn't want to realize..." He was shaking his head. "Fool that I am, I let you come."
"Vincent, I would've followed you anyway, even if you'd left me behind in Costa Del Sol." She would've too, she recognized. She probably would've tried to swim the expanse of ocean if she'd been unable to get a boat, even though she would've undoubtedly drowned. Vincent made her reckless where she usually exercised more caution. She'd been willing to risk it all before to get rid of her loneliness. Now she was willing to risk it all to get rid of his turmoil. Strange, how love skewed one's priorities. Neo-Midgar had taught her to look out for herself. Vincent had taught her, inadvertently perhaps, to care again, to trust again, not for herself but for others who needed. Because he needed. And she loved him.
He'd cured her of her curse. And she was more than willing to return the favour.
Vincent was nodding again, looking off into the distance as if enraptured by the beauty of the desolated city. "I know you would follow me now even if I ordered you to stay behind. Such a stubborn, foolish girl, ignoring how dangerous it is to trail a demon just to help a lost cause like myself." He laughed softly through his nose.
Elira bristled in a little indignation. "Foolish and stubborn I may be, but I'm not a girl, Vincent. I'm a woman. Maybe twenty-three sounds like a drop in the pan to you, but it's been my entire life so far, and it's been enough to make me into an adult." She wanted to continue, to tell him that she could make her own decisions about what was foolish and dangerous, but she fumbled for the words until she just fell silent.
Vincent didn't reply immediately. When he finally did, his voice was very soft, like a caress, and Elira felt herself shiver a little.
"I know you're a woman, Elira."
He had to know. Although he had treated her like a child at many points in their journey (so she must appear to him at seventy), he had to have realized in his apartment, and then more so in Costa Del Sol when all of the feelings had been present, that she was a woman. She had a woman's body with a woman's needs. And, far from a child, she had the woman's ability to make him realize that he was a man with a man's needs, however much he might try to deny it.
Elira began to approach him again, slowly, gaining confidence when he didn't object. He straightened up as she reached his right side but kept his face turned away from her. The ear she could see was pointed now, thrusting up through his raven hair like an antenna. He was still partially transformed, as he had been when Mason and the other two men had spotted him. She stepped around until she was in front of him, but he shifted away again to keep his face hidden. Putting out a hesitant hand, she put her fingers to his chin, urging him to look at her. He recoiled suddenly, taking a few steps back.
"Please, Elira, don't..."
"Look at me, Vincent," she interrupted him gently. "I don't think you're a lost cause. Please. You trust me, right? I've proven my commitment to this, to you. Please, look at me."
Vincent didn't move for a few moments, but then finally turned his head so that she could see his face. Two sets of his incisors had grown into fangs over his upper and bottom lips, meshing together where they met, and his features were twitching ever so slightly as he did his best to keep Chaos in check. Moved by pity, Elira stepped toward him again and raised her hand to his cheek. He flinched a little at her touch but didn't retreat. She smiled reassuringly at him and he leaned into her hand, his brow furrowed as if he was confused by his own reaction. And then she moved closer, putting her other arm around his waist, still holding the tranquilizer gun in firm fingers. When he didn't back out of her embrace, she lay her head against his collarbone and, pulling her hand down from his cheek, held him with both arms.
It's all right, Vincent. Please let yourself go for this one moment. Forget about being afraid...and just hold me...
...because this might be the last time...
The pause was so long that Elira was almost sure Vincent was going to walk away from her, but finally he put his arms around her, his hold on her becoming tighter after a moment. She sighed in silent contentment, breathing in his scent, making herself memorize every detail of these moments, every beat of his heart.
...might be the last time I can fantasize about it all working out...last time I can pretend that you'll never let me go...
Vincent withdrew suddenly as if Elira had become hot to the touch. Elira followed him in concern as he stumbled back a few steps, his expression tight with pain. He waved her away, however, continuing to move further from her.
"No, Elira. Stay there," he gasped. A moment later, he inhaled sharply and nearly fell to the road as he lurched to the side.
Elira watched anxiously as the features of his face began to morph in earnest. "Vincent, do you want me to..."
"No," he said sharply. "We need to...ah...conserve the darts. And besides...uhh...I don't want to burden you...with my weight." Using a great amount of will power, Vincent forced himself to straighten up despite the transformation trying to take over his body. He took a couple of unsteady steps before stopping to rest. When he next looked to Elira, she was concerned to notice that the blood red of his irises had filled his eyes.
Vincent lifted a shaky arm and pointed toward the jutting rocks at the end of the curving road. "There," he said unevenly, stooping to prop himself up with his prosthetic hand resting on a knee, "is where we will go. It is...a temple of sorts...and one of two places...ugh...I could imagine being a good candidate for...ah...a hidden power like what we're...mmh...looking for." He closed his eyes tightly for a moment and a shudder went through him.
Elira couldn't watch him suffer any longer. There was no way he would be able to make it the rest of the way, and it was foolish to try. If Chaos appeared now, it could endanger her life as well as jeopardize their entire journey, everything they had achieved so far. Perhaps he was right and they would be wise to conserve the darts, but not when they were obviously needed. And although she realized that Vincent's pride, stepped on every time he ended up sprawled on the floor unconscious, was worth something, it wasn't worth the risk they'd be taking to protect it. Watching him carefully, she unloaded the tranquilizer gun of the one dart and then drew the second one out of the coat's pocket. Approaching him quietly, she began to speak, hoping to draw the attention away from her actions. "Were you in that temple before?"
"Yes," he answered after a moment, not opening his eyes in his attempts to control the trembling of his poor, tortured body. "With Avalanche."
"Why do you think it's where we need to go?"
Vincent took a shaky breath. "The hidden temple wa...was the place where we...mmph...used the key of the Ancients, and a...ah...power showed itself, pulling images out of our...eh...minds and projecting the-them onto an overflow of water the...the key caused...hey!" He spun suddenly not even a second after Elira had injected the needles of the darts into his arm. His now pupiless eyes were accusing, angry, questioning. "Elira...what have you...done?" He stopped speaking as the tranquilizers began to take effect, blinking and beginning to sway where he stood. "No, no," he breathed. He moaned and fell to his hands and knees. Elira watched in horror as the wings of Chaos fought to sprout out of his back.
"It will take more than...two," Vincent informed her curtly, the hair that had fallen like a shroud around his face muffling his voice.
Elira quickly began to unlace his pack, and then to dig through it, urging her eyes to search faster, her hands to move quicker as Vincent gave another exclamation of pain. What had she done? She hadn't meant to increase his suffering, but that looked to be the only thing she'd accomplished. Come on, come on...finally! With a grim smile of victory, she pulled out one of the sealed packages. Ripping it open and sending darts tumbling everywhere, she grabbed several in her hand and injected them fiercely into his back just as the wings began to tear out of his body. Vincent's choked cry turned into a failing sob as his elbows gave out and he slipped forward onto the ground into unconsciousness, the changes in his body receding rapidly, pacified for now.
Elira stood over him, shivering silently, clutching the empty darts in whitening fingers. Against his will. She'd promised never to make a move unless he approved. His eyes had been accusing, shocked and angered and...hurt by her betrayal. I do trust you, Vincent, but I...I did what I thought was best. I'm sorry. I just... Her thoughts drifted off and she shook her head. I just love you, she finished miserably, though it really wasn't an excuse. She just wished for the moment that she could say it to him, that he could hear it just once before...so that he would know...just in case...
But she couldn't. What would he think to know she was in love with him? He would call her a fool and would probably say she had his pity. Because he couldn't...wouldn't love her back. Not now, not with the way he was, cursed as he was.
And, perhaps, if fate had its way, not ever...
Elira crouched down and methodically picked up the fallen tranquilizers, putting them into the pockets of Vincent's coat carefully so that they wouldn't stick into her. As she retrieved the last two, both resting beside the motionless prosthetic hand she'd been so fascinated with at their first meeting, she glanced to Vincent's slack face. He was frowning slightly, as if concentrating on a deep problem even in sleep; the peace she'd seen in his slumbering expression before was now gone. Even oblivion had ceased to offer him solace.
It was time. It was past time. Chaos had to be exorcised.
Still crouching down with her feet set apart, she pulled Vincent up, laying him across her hunched shoulders, hoping and praying that she would be able to stand with the burden of his extra weight. At first, she couldn't even move, but after a few moments of deliberation she was able to start lifting herself up on shaky legs. Her spine felt like it would snap under the strain, but she made herself take the first step along the road toward the temple. Momentum made the second step easier, and so it went. Every thirty feet or so she had to stop to rest, putting him down to crack her joints and stretch knotting muscles. It became harder and harder for Elira to make herself pick him up again as the road stretched on, and the breaks started coming more frequently, every twenty feet, and then every fifteen. He seemed to get heavier with every step as her breathing became ragged, her curls hanging around her face in clumping strands, sweat forming on her body. It seemed an impossible feat.
But if she would've crossed the ocean without a boat...would've done anything to help him, to be with him...
It took her nearly an hour to carry Vincent the half mile of road existing between the spot he had fallen and the handworn crevice in the rock that he'd said led to the temple. She set him down in the opening, propping him up against the doorway, and dropped wearily beside him, shrugging tiredly out of her pack and bringing out her water bottle. After a couple of slow sips, she took a longer drink and was almost unable to keep herself from draining the small pouch. But she forced herself to save some for the trip away from the city, back to Bone Village. Because there would be a trip back, with or without Vincent.
Wouldn't there?
He'd given her a reason to live...not just living as in keeping her body alive, but living, having purpose. She'd felt needed again like she hadn't felt in years, and she'd felt safe, understood, maybe even cared about. Without him, what reason did she have? She'd abandoned the life she'd lived to keep herself going, eating, breathing, to follow the attractive prospect of freedom from loneliness and pain in a cold, uncaring world Vincent had offered in his quiet, melancholy manner, whether he knew he'd been offering it or not. So now she had nothing to go back to, no life to live. She'd made him her life. Perhaps it had been foolish of her to allow herself to depend on him so much, though she really hadn't had a way to prevent it short of leaving him, but at the time she'd never thought this journey could lead to his death.
She'd ignored the warnings, allowing herself to fall in love with him anyway...
If he died, would she want to continue living?
Elira shook her head, unwilling to think about this right now. He wasn't dead...not yet, at least. And, she realized, she would have all the time in the world afterward to think about it...
Leaving Vincent at the entrance, Elira traveled further into the alcove, shivering a little in the cold damp air. The dampness alerted her to a mountain stream or underground spring nearby and she looked to the rock ceiling, half-expecting to see water droplets gathering, ready to fall on her as she walked beneath them. But the walls were bone dry.
Ahead, there seemed to be some light. Elira walked slowly through a manmade archway built of the same fine white stone of the buildings outside, and was then brought to a halt at the sight of the room opening before her, her mouth falling open in some reverential awe.
The 'temple' was even more beautiful than she imagined the city had ever looked, undamaged by the ravages of war because of its position in the mountain. The room was cavernous, but a small ovular space had been sectioned off by more towering archways and many sturdy pillars made of a slate gray rock. In the middle of the chamber, a thick, raised platform grew out of the rock; on it sat a strange ball that looked as if it had been chiseled out of crystal. It emitted a soft, almost eerie glow as the light of the sun shone down on it from a hole almost five feet in diameter positioned directly above it.
As soon as she had gathered herself together, Elira walked a few steps nearer to the edge of the walkway she seemed to be on, toward a staircase that led down to a second ledge. But she didn't descend, searching for a way to reach the platform that stood alone in the centre of the room. The crystal was the only thing she could see in this place that could offer any power to those seeking it. Eventually, she spotted a thin catwalk on the other side of the room that bridged the gap between the walkway and the platform. Tracing with her eyes the path she would take to get there, she doubled back into the entrance to retrieve the prone Vincent.
He was in exactly the same position she'd left him in. Too tired and sore to try and hoist him back up onto her back, she pulled him to his feet as best she could, leaning him partially against the wall of the entrance, and, turning to face away from him, draped his arms over her shoulders. She then began to walk, content to let his legs slide along the floor behind her as she half-carried, half-dragged him around the walkway to the bridge.
The bridge was harder to maneuver Vincent along because of how narrow it was, not even a foot in width, but she managed to get to the platform. Here, she lay Vincent down carefully on his side, smoothing his hair back from his face in a gesture done more for its distracting nature than for any other reason. And then, with a parting glance at him, she approached the crystal.
It was situated on a dais the way a priceless jewel is placed on a small pedestal when a museum wants to show it off under a glass case. Elira stared at it in vain for a moment, wishing that she'd given Vincent longer to finish his speech about this temple before she'd tranquilized him. Because now it would be impossible to get his help. She had a feeling that if Vincent woke up in here, Chaos would go ballistic and take his body over even before he was fully aware of what was going on. She would have to keep him under until she'd figured out what to do.
As she continued to search around, she noticed some figures carved in the stone of the dais. Stooping to get a better look, she discovered that they were Cetra ideograms. And, not knowing what else to do but hoping a clue would be revealed soon, she took off her pack and dug out the lexicon Leo had given her as a parting present, determined to translate until she either found something helpful or thought of something else she could do.
Some of the words she recognized, but most were unfamiliar. And there were so many of them to translate. And she was so dizzyingly high from the floor of the cavern. At one point while she was crawling along at the base of the dais, her foot hit an excavating tool someone had left behind, sending it spiraling downward. She didn't dare watch its descent, but she was unable to keep herself from counting the number of seconds it took it to reach the bottom with a dull clatter.
The first few sentences she finished translating talked about the Chosen One mentioned in the Cetra scriptures. The next few described the things he'd taught and the strange power he'd wielded called 'Holy'. A few after that went into some detail about his death, and then his legacy where his power was given to his people, the Cetra, in order to keep the 'messengers' of evil from taking over the planet. It then went on about how this power worked to bind the evil in the world.
The next sentence explained how, over the first thousand years, the power originally given to the Cetra became available to humans as the Ancients began to breed with others outside of their race. Elira translated a couple of sentences after this one, but it had started into what looked to be a long genealogy. With a sigh, Elira crawled around to another section on the dais and, after a quick glimpse at Vincent to make sure that he wasn't stirring, began to translate again.
Her eyes were starting to ache from strain by the time Elira found something that looked as if it was leading somewhere. Chewing on the inside of her lip in anticipation, she flipped frantically through the lexicon, furiously looking up what she didn't recognize. The words came together like the pieces of a puzzle:
Yenowa became like the queen of the demons and drew her power both from the evil in the earth and the evil in the Human and the Cetra. When the Chosen One came, He banished her from the planet. He gave the power of banishment to his people. Therefore, if any one of you is afflicted with possession by a demon, know you that to banish the evil in your body you must speak the words of freedom:
The words of freedom? Elira licked her lips and continued translating. She was done not long after.
In the power of Holy, I cast you out of my body.
It couldn't be that easy. Elira set the book down and leaned back, closing her eyes to give them a bit of a rest. Just say those words? Was that all there was to it? The Ancients certainly had been a blunt, no-nonsense people. Vincent could've done that back in Neo-Midgar had he known what to say.
She would've laughed at the irony of it were she not so tired.
Until a difficulty presented itself, making her realize how hard this could be. The one afflicted had to say the words. Vincent had to say them himself. She couldn't say them for him. He had to cast Chaos out himself. But would he be able to do that when he woke up? Would he have the time before Chaos discovered what was about to happen and forced Vincent's body to transform? She didn't know, but she didn't think he would. Whatever Chaos was, it was no idiot. It would do whatever it deemed necessary to keep Vincent from speaking those words.
She had been right. He'd needed her to come. Vincent wouldn't have been able to do this on his own; he wouldn't have been able to do the translating, plus Chaos would've been very hard to control at this point. He would never have succeeded on his own.
Though Elira was beginning to doubt she could do anything more to help him...
She racked her brains for a good fifteen minutes on the dais, trying to think of some way she could help Vincent say those words before Chaos was able to stop him. But no solution presented itself. Even as some desperation began to set in, Elira continued to try, translating again in hopes of finding some other way, thinking through everything she'd learned from the scriptures in Leo's apartment. But there was nothing.
They'd hit a wall. Right at the finish line, they discovered that the chains fate had put around Vincent's ankles were just that much too short.
It wasn't fair. Elira wanted to feel angry, wanted to feel unbearably sad, but she couldn't. She'd gone numb, still unwilling to accept the fact that fate and Chaos had won, still denying that their entire journey had been in vain. It was so unfair, it just couldn't be real. Fate couldn't possibly be this cruel.
But it was real.
Elira stared at the crystal above her for what seemed an eternity, enraptured by its beauty, killed by its magnificent power that was just out of reach. It was awhile before she realized that tears were trailing noiselessly down her face. She was drowning in tears. And Vincent was drowning in Chaos.
She didn't mind drowning.
Movement out of the corner of her eye. Elira shifted quickly, quietly, glancing around the dais to where she'd left Vincent. She'd forgotten completely about keeping him under. And he was waking up. She fumbled in one of the pockets for a few darts, but fear made her clumsy and she was unable to get a firm grip on any of the smooth vials. Swearing profusely in her mind, she realized dimly how much she suddenly didn't want to die now that she was faced with it, despite the hopelessness of everything. The grab for the tranquilizers had been reactionary, Finally, she was able to pull four darts into her hand.
But by this time, it was too late.
Kneeling where she was beside the dais, Elira was able to see Vincent sit up carefully. Elira wanted to shout a warning, but what was there to yell. Her bottom lip quivered anxiously as she watched him glance around himself.
It didn't take him long to realize where they were.
It didn't take Chaos long to make its move.
Vincent clutched at his head, inhaling sharply. It didn't take long at all. When next he looked up, his teeth and ears had elongated. And his irises had bled over his pupils.
"Elira," he choked out, but the rest of his cry, whether to plead with her to tranquilize him or to demand that she flee, was cut off by a moan of pain. Elira tried to get to her feet but stumbled in her hurry, slipping on a small heap of fine sand. The edge loomed frighteningly close as she fell and she dropped the darts, grabbing at the rock of the dais. One sneaker skittered off of the edge for a second before Elira pulled herself onto her hands and knees, frozen in shock as she tried to slow her breathing.
The rest of the transformation happened very quickly and Elira was only able to curse herself before Chaos was pushing itself into a standing position nearby. It glanced around itself fitfully for a few moments in recognition of where it was before it gave a wailing cry that sounded almost fearful, thrusting itself into the air and beginning to dart around much like a fly trapped in a jar. Finally, though, it landed again on the walkway at the other end of the narrow bridge, its horrible red eyes burning. It gave a leering smile at Elira as it noticed her.
"Yessss, you're a clever little bitch, but I'm afraid thissss game hassss come to itssss end."
Elira teetered a little as she stood, her mind now constantly distracted by the drop situated just behind her, and she grabbed at the pedestal that held the crystal to steady herself. Chaos was coming across the bridge, its large, clawed feet nearly spanning the bridge with their width. It moved slowly, seemingly enjoying the hopelessness of the situation.
"Thissss time, you will die. I will crussssh your feeble body, I will pull you into piecssssessss, I will gouge out your heart and eat it. And then I will throw you down to rot in the bottom of thissss curssssed placsssse." It laughed in a soft hiss of anticipation, its eyes sparkling evily.
Elira glanced backward at the edge, realizing that a fall from this height would be a better death than anything Chaos would give her. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to leave Vincent with her death on his conscience, didn't want to leave him at all. But there was no choice anymore.
I'm so sorry...
As she glanced back a second time, her hand brushed the surface of the crystal. She was surprised to hear a chorus of voices and pulled her arm back instinctively.
//Listen...//
Elira swallowed and, sparing a quick look at the approaching Chaos, touched the crystal again.
The voices weren't audible, she realized as she listened. They were speaking right into her mind.
//Bind the evil...you must bind the evil first...//
Who are you? Elira asked it.
//No time...bind the evil in the power of Holy...// The voices were right. There was no time. Chaos was no more than a couple of steps away from the dais, one arm already coming up in preparation of catching her. She stumbled backward involuntarily, nearly losing her footing on the edge. With a cry, she threw herself down on the dais to keep herself from toppling, but was sufficiently close to the brink that both legs ended up sliding over. She threw her arms out and managed to grab ahold of the rim with smarting fingers.
She wondered if this was fate's doing, trying to kill her off now that she'd discovered what to do.
"Poor, frightened human. Come to me. Come to your dear Vincssssent and let him make it all better." The roar of seething laughter echoed around the cavern.
Elira tried with all of her might to pull herself back up, but she just didn't have the strength in her arms. And her grip was failing. It was now or never. Vincent's freedom would be now or never.
Chaos stuck its ugly head over the edge where she could see it. And Elira smiled tightly. "In the power of Holy..."
Chaos gave a sudden scream, shooting abruptly out of sight. "Don't ssssay that! I will kill you! Killllll you!"
"In the power of Holy, I bind you!"
The scream grew to such a pitch that it was painful to hear, lasting for nearly ten seconds. It made Elira disoriented and she felt her cramping fingers begin to slide on the smooth rock. This was it. At least the demon was bound. Elira hoped Vincent would be able to figure the rest out for himself.
Because she just couldn't hold on anymore.
Firm hands grabbed her arms. One of the hands was golden, she noticed dimly. Elira felt herself being hauled upward, and then she was being put down gently to the cool rock of the dais.
Vincent knelt down beside her and helped her as she struggled to sit up. "Are you all right?"
Elira nodded quickly. "You?"
He didn't speak for a moment. "I feel...I feel different. The struggle within me has ceased, though I sense Chaos is still present." He frowned a little. "What exactly did you do?"
Elira pursed her lips. "I...I bound him, I guess. I'm not sure. But there's still something else we...or rather, you have to do before Chaos is completely gotten rid off."
Vincent nodded. He hesitated a few moments before asking, "What is that?", as if feeling suddenly unready.
"The power seems to be activated by words. You just have to say that you cast him out of you in the power of Holy."
Vincent blinked in a little bewilderment. "That's all?"
Elira nodded. And then she laughed a little. "Silly, isn't it? We traveled half-way across the world risking life and limb for something I'll bet could've been done without having to go anywhere. I think we just figured it would be difficult."
"Chaos often told me that the process would be very complicated."
Elira nodded. "He would."
There was a long silence. Elira dropped her eyes and studied the strange patterns in the dust made by her sneakers, Vincent's boots, and Chaos' clawed feet. When she finally glanced back up, Vincent was watching his prosthetic hand as he idly flexed the fingers. Elira couldn't help the tears that began to well up as she observed him, but she pushed them down as far as she could. She would be strong. Even if it was the end, she would be strong.
She cleared her throat. "Well, I guess you should get on with it."
He glanced at her with his red eyes before nodding once. "Yes, I suppose I should." He frowned again, reflexively, and then looked away across the room. "I want to thank you, Elira, for helping me. You've done..." He trained his eyes on her again, his expression one of irritation as he searched for words. "...more for me than I've deserved."
Elira nodded, dropping her eyes once more to the ground. After a moment, Vincent got to his feet and stepped over to face the crystal.
Elira felt her face contorting with tears. And, finally, she couldn't keep herself still or silent any longer. She stood quickly and moved to him, slipping her arms around him from the back. He started a little and then turned around in her embrace. She hugged him fiercely, the tears escaping her eyes despite her struggle to keep them in. "I don't want to believe that you're going to die, but you might. So...goodbye, Vincent. I...I..." ...love you. Why was it so hard to say? She frowned at herself, and then sighed. "I'm glad you picked my shop to come to all those months ago."
He moved his arms until he was holding her. When Elira glanced up at him, he was smiling. "Good bye, Elira." A moment passed before he slipped out of her embrace.
Elira took a step away from him and watched as he turned back to the crystal. A tiny pause.
"Wait!"
He pivoted quickly as if he'd been waiting for the word. Elira threw herself into his embrace and her seeking lips found his, her kiss filled with all of the passion, all of the love, all of the desperation she felt. He returned it ardently and Elira wondered dizzyingly if he was feeling the same.
She wished for a moment that Vincent didn't have to go through with this, that he could just live with the bound Chaos inside of him, just so that they could be together.
But she knew he couldn't. This had to be finished. It had been too long already. He needed to live again, or if that wasn't possible, to finally die.
Vincent withdrew slowly from her, though his arms continued to hold her as if of their own will. He seemed a little breathless and Elira discovered that she herself was breathing heavily. Oh, the things he stirred in her. She felt the tears approach again and was powerless to stop them. She would miss him if this was the end. If only things had been different.
Elira squeezed him tightly for a second, laying her head on his chest. "I love you, Vincent," she said softly. And then she sighed at the release the words gave her.
She never saw the expression of fate-cursed bliss pass over his face, but she felt his response through his embrace and she held him only tighter, not wanting to ever let go.
She can love me. He lay a cheekbone against her hair, letting her unique fragrance soothe him. She does love me. Poor woman...
But the fact that she loved him undermined any guilt he felt. He hadn't been created unlovable. He frowned. Perhaps Lucrecia had loved him once, but, as with Elira, he'd ended up pushing her away from himself because...he felt he hadn't deserved her. Perhaps Hojo had been to Lucrecia what Leo had almost been for Elira. A pair of warm arms.
Vincent took his arms back from Elira and gave her a smile. She returned it tearily, her fingers trailing down his arm as she took a step backward, gripping his hand before she moved out of range.
It was time. It was past time.
And then Vincent heard something, almost inaudible.
No...Vincssssent, you will die and you will losssse her forever...keep me and I promisssse to let you live your life with her...I will let you have anything you want...
"You're nothing but a liar," Vincent said under his breath before taking what could be his last breath and saying the words.
"I cast you out of my body in the power of Holy."
Vincent was rocked backward as something that looked like a jolt of electricity charged through his body. The red of his irises was taken over by a glowing white. And an unearthly scream started out of his throat.
Elira backed away instinctively as what looked like a shadow, except it was almost void black, slipped out of Vincent's body to hover above his head. The scream continued until the shadow was suddenly gone, as if sucked out of the air. And then there was silence.
Vincent crumpled to the dais. Elira rushed to him immediately and turned him onto his back, looking into his face. His eyes were open. Elira noticed the difference right away; the red in his irises was gone, replaced with a beautiful slate gray. But his gaze was unfocused. Her breathing becoming uncomfortably shallow, Elira began to pat his cheeks. After a moment, he blinked once. His eyes found her face and a slight smile crossed his face. And then a spasm racked him and, with a choking breath, he fell still.
Panicking suddenly, Elira put two fingers to his neck to feel his heartbeat. It pumped slowly under her touch. Slower and slower...
Until it finally stopped.