Chapter Seven

         The sun was setting when a figure wrapped in loose, gray robes which covered its body and hid its face slid onto the back of its Chocobo, a sleek yellow animal, one that did not seem at all out of the ordinary for a lone traveler. Only the glistening metal cross strapped to the figure's large backpack suggested that this traveler was something more than the ordinary.

         With a shout and a snap of its reins, the figure sent its mount into motion and trotted out from the town of Kalm at an easy pace, not taxing its animal in case its strength was needed later on.

         Yuffie Kisaragi, sweating profusely inside the scratchy, confining robes that she had bought to disguise her appearance, found herself wishing that they had found some other way to do this. Nevertheless, it was senseless to attempt to slip past Messiah without disguising herself in some manner, and on short notice this had been the only manner she could think off.

         She wished that she had come up with something else, and then chided herself for her complaints. She wasn't the one who had been swallowed up by the earth monster last time they had encountered it, and whatever she was enduring now was surely trivial in comparison to what had happened to Tifa. Despite what the others kept insisting, she knew that Tifa's loss had been her fault. This was her chance to make up for her failure.

         The party had spent almost half of the day in the town of Kalm, searching, as if looking for traces of Messiah's influence. Naturally, they had not searched very hard.

         Yuffie had hit every shop in Kalm, buying everything that one would need to make the long journey from Kalm to the area around the Mythril mines, a journey of nearly two days by Chocobo. A few of the shopkeepers had glanced at her curiously, perhaps wondering why she was buying provisions for a two day journey. Considering the fact that she had unrestricted access to the only Airship still in the skies, her behavior must have seemed strange indeed. And, with luck, news of her actions had spread far and wide.

         To her disappointment, not a single shop-keeper had commented on her strange actions, although several had looked as though they were about too. That didn't mean that they weren't spies for Messiah, however, and Yuffie could always hope.

         While she had been out shopping, Vincent and Barret had conducted a brilliant little dialogue within the Kalm tavern. It had concluded with Barret attempting to knock Vincent over, after having a few too many drinks, and yelling angrily that their plan would work and that Vincent needed to shut up about it. Then he'd stormed out, and Vincent had apologized for his friend's behavior.

         More than one of the bar patrons had asked him what the big argument had been about, but Vincent had of course refused to tell them, making them all the more curious. They had surely gossiped about whatever the saviors of the world were up to now for hours after he had left. Hopefully, someone had come up with something approaching the story that they wanted to put out, and one of Messiah's spies had overheard it.

         The closing touch on the network of lies they'd managed to construct for the people of Kalm was the fact that five people had entered the town from the Airship, and four had left. That could not have escaped the notice of the gate guards, and if Messiah's spies were even close to competent, they could not fail to draw the conclusion that Red desired.

         Messiah better figure this out. He has to. Unless he's just stupid, or somethin'. She tried to settle more comfortably into the saddle and resisted the urge to throw off the hood around her head, which seemed to grow more suffocating with each mile that went by.

         No, she thought, that would be a bit too obvious. C'mon, Messiah! I don't like to be kept waiting. I want some action!

         Over her head, flying safely above the thick cloud cover which was always over the desert this time of the year, flew the Highwind. Inside it were Cid, his command crew, and everyone else, tracking her with the Highwind's scanners, waiting for this thing to attack. It was comforting to know that she wasn't really alone, out here in the rapidly darkening desert, with only a few desert insects and the occasional struggling plant to keep her company. Not that it would have bothered her.

         The moon had made it almost halfway across the sky by the time Yuffie found herself falling asleep in the saddle, and she had to quickly move to a more uncomfortable position to keep herself awake. She was tired of waiting. And still, frustrating her with its cowardice, the earth monster refused to appear.

         She almost wanted to step off her Chocobo and shout into the desert night, challenge it, give it no choice but to attack her, but still she resisted. She had to stick to the plan. She hadn't found plans and stratagems of much use in the past, besides those which involved staying alive and finding Materia. That was why she let people like Red and Cloud handle all the really devious stuff. She just hung out with them and kicked ass whenever the opportunity presented itself.

         Almost in time with her thought, her Chocobo stopped, squawking in dismay. Every fiber in her body was instantly on alert. At last! The little bastard had decided to show itself! She reached into her cloak, ready to pull out the PHS and signal the others to attack, but she stopped when she finally discerned the cause of her Chocobo's dismay. Nothing more than a pack of desert dogs, who had crept up on them in silence, growling angrily. Their jaws were hanging open, hungry and wet.

         "You gotta' be kiddin' me!" Yuffie saw that they had ringed her Chocobo, and were closing in from all sides, snarling, baiting each other, trying to convince one of their number to make the first move. Sighing, Yuffie calmly dismounted and drew out her Cross.

         "All right." She brought her Cross up in between her eyes, glaring balefully at the desert creatures surrounding her. "Which of you wants to be first, huh? C'mon!" The animals paused, their ears perking up, as if they could somehow understand her words.

         "What's the matter?" she taunted, taking a step toward them. "You scared?"

         Without warning, the entire pack turned, their tails between their legs, and vanished into the night. Yuffie blinked, momentarily convinced she was seeing things.

         Wow, she thought with a sudden grin. I guess my reputation precedes me!

         Then she heard a desperate squawk from the direction of her Chocobo, and a loud sucking sound as her feet suddenly flew into the mud, her calves right behind. She was up to her waist in less than a second, but that was all the time it took her to cast her spell and bring out the PHS, clicking the send button on its side a bit too quickly.

         When Tifa awoke, she realized that she couldn't feel any part of her body. She seemed to be floating in limbo, a soul without a vessel to contain it, a mind without a body to move about in. As if she was dead. As if she were a spirit.

         Am I dead? She felt no sense of fear, and felt strangely peaceful. The chilling encounter with Messiah in her coliseum seemed so far away, the horrible death of Veric Masters barely more than a distant memory. Cloud's death. Messiah's offer. All of it didn't matter anymore. If she was dead, then she was out of Messiah's reach forever. She contemplated that thought, trying it on for size. No more responsibility. No more lives thrown into her hands. And no chance for revenge.

         It was then that she decided that she didn't want to die. Responsibility, love, companionship . . . all of it was nothing compared to the hatred that she felt for Messiah. Finally, she found herself understanding what Cloud had felt for Sephiroth. Although she had known Sephiroth was evil, and despised him as much as everyone else, only Cloud had truly understood him, and Cloud had been the one most hurt by his bloody grab for power. After she was dead, would she continue to have nightmares of Messiah like Cloud did of Sephiroth, unable to let her go because her hatred for the woman burned so brightly that even death could not put it out?

         Or will Messiah have nightmares of me? Perhaps she will. If I'm dead, then I can think of no one that I'd more prefer to haunt. Wouldn't that be a change.

         "Tifa," a calm male voice said, from somewhere out in the limbo that surrounded her. "Tifa, you must wake up."

         She cast about in the darkness, curious as to whose voice it was. It sounded like Cloud's. Could he be here too? The thought was almost too wonderful to be true. Cloud, waiting for her in the afterlife, safe from Messiah's power. Messiah had his body, but not his soul. She knew that even that witch's evil magic could never possess that. No one could.

         She felt something touching her lips, something metal. A cup. And inside, something for which she realized she had a desperate need. Water, pushed to her lips by some unknown force. Numbly, she tried to drink, some of the feeling return to her face, even though everything was still dark, and the rest of her body was still missing.

         Slowly, at first, she drank the wonderful liquid, the most delicious thing that she had ever tasted. How long had it been since she had been given anything to drink? At least before Messiah had thrown her into her cell, if not longer. As some of the feeling began to return to her legs and back, she felt hard rock pressing up against them, and then she realized with grim certainty that she certainly wasn't dead.

         She almost spit out the water then, the dread liquid that was bringing her back to consciousness, but found that she couldn't, too thirsty to resist. Then the water was gone and another cup was pressed to her lips, and she drank that as well, giving in to temptation. But why couldn't she see? A horrible thought suddenly leapt from the darkest corner of her mind, attacking without warning. Messiah's eyes. Twisted scars, so noticeable a wreckage when framed by her beautiful face. No! Messiah could not . . . could not have taken that from her . . .

         She screamed at the thought, angry and betrayed. Her scream somehow managed to open her eyelids, and she stared out into the darkness in desperation, searching for anything that would tell her that she still had her sight.

         At last, she saw his face. And lashed out in horror, as he easily caught her weak strike and pushed it aside.

         "Tifa!" he exclaimed, his eyes flashing with blue energy. "Calm down! It's me, Frieze!"

         She collapsed against the wall, not trying to strike him again. Frieze, the only person with any shred of morality in Messiah's twisted army. And even he was not to be trusted. He was on the edge of light and dark, too scared, too in love with his mother to follow his heart and do what, deep down, he must know was necessary. She had seen it in his eyes, as they had shared that moment just after Veric Masters' death.

         This is wrong.

         He must know that. She knew for sure that he felt as she did. Why didn't he fight? Why wouldn't he help her? Because of her. Because he is helpless to resist her will. Because he is her son.

         "You should not have done what you did," he said, his eyes cold, but his voice sounded unsure. "Didn't you know that you were going to fail?"

         "I had to try," she rasped, finding that she could speak. "She is evil, Frieze! She had that man tortured and killed! Why, Frieze? Why did he have to die?"

         He didn't answer, and didn't contradict her. She could see the war going on inside his head and clung to his conflict, now her only chance to escape. If she could only convince him to help her. If she could only force him to shrug off eighteen years of his mother's horrible influence and join the side of light.

         Impossible, she thought, realizing how crazy that concept seemed. She was no magician, not in this sense. Not in the magic of changing people's souls. And she knew that people couldn't change that quickly, not like that, not with so little to go on. Frieze wouldn't help her.

         He would grieve for Messiah's victims, do what he could to ease their suffering, but he wouldn't stop her. He would suffer in silence, and throw his life away in a second to protect one whose philosophy differed so much from his own that blood was the only thing that tied them together. It was so tragic it made her want to cry. But she wouldn't. She had shed her tears for Cloud, and that was all that she was willing to give up to the evil force that had imprisoned her. No, it was their turn to cry now. It was their turn to feel pain.

         "Mother knows . . . ," he began, hesitating, but Tifa cut him off, shaking her head wearily.

         "She knows nothing, Frieze," she whispered. "Only how to cause pain, how to kill, how to destroy. How to manipulate others. She acts like she is a god, and treats you like one of her lowest subjects. You, her son! She treats you like you are nothing!"

         "She respects me," Frieze protested half-heartedly.

         "If she respected you, would she order you to do what she does?" Tifa again put a lie to his words. "Would she force you to imprison helpless people against their will, force you to watch gruesome acts of torture like the one that she inflicted on Masters yesterday night? Has she done that before, Frieze? Does she know how much it hurts you?"

         "She . . . knows," Frieze admitted, turning away, unable to look at her. "And she is ashamed of me."

         "That is nothing to be ashamed of, Frieze!" Tifa took his hand earnestly, seeing suddenly that she was getting through. "You know what she is doing is wrong! You know that she has to be stopped!"

         He closed his eyes, sighing deeply. "I cannot stop her, Tifa. What would you have me do?" His eyes opened, his face tortured. "Would you have me slay my own mother?"

         She couldn't answer that. Instead, she merely dropped his hand and settled back against the wall, turning away.

         "I can't tell you what to do," she said softly. "I can only tell you to follow the calling of your heart."

         "I cannot, Tifa," he said, rising to his feet. "I am sorry that she hurt you. But you shouldn't have attacked her!"

         "I had no choice, Frieze." Tifa refused to let him off the hook. "She did something horrible. She took that man's life. And the other. Cloud. Do you know him?"

         "I do not," Frieze said. "He is new, and already he is Mother's favorite. Where did he come from?"

         "He was my friend, Frieze. He was a great warrior. He knew what was right, like you! You wear his weapon at your side! He would never have let someone like Messiah torture anyone the way that she does! But she took him, Frieze! She took his soul, and replaced it . . . replaced it with this monster. A puppet. That was why I had to try, Frieze. I loved him. And she destroyed him." Tifa closed her eyes, letting her head fall to her side, refusing to look at him.

         "I am sorry, Tifa," Frieze said. "Truly sorry. I want to help! I do! But I can't! I can't go against . . . "

         "Frieze!" someone yelled suddenly, as the door to the cell smashed open. Flaym stood there, his eyes flashing with fire. "What are you doing?"

         Frieze reverted to his cold, emotionless persona immediately, all trace of his vulnerability, his humanity, disappearing under his brother's gaze.

         "The prisoner is awake. She required water. Mother does not wish her to die."

         "She should die," Flaym said eagerly, stepping into the cell and glaring at Tifa. "Can't you see that, Frieze? She tried to kill Mother!"

         "I know," Frieze nodded. "But you stopped her. What does Mother have to fear, with the four of us at her side? You, me, Azure and Trymor. Nothing can stop the four of us. And no one can touch our Mother when we are united against them."

         "It doesn't matter!" Flaym stalked toward Tifa and brought his hand back to strike her. "She deserves to suffer for eternity! No one strikes at Mother and lives! No one!"

         "Flaym!" Frieze yelled, grabbing his brother's arm just in time to stop him. "Are you out of your mind? Do you want to anger Mother?"

         "She won't care!" Flaym protested. "Let me go, Frieze! She must suffer!"

         "Oh, she will," Frieze said, his face as cold as a glacier. "But not now, Flaym. When Mother tells us the time is right, we will make her pay. And I desire that as much as you do, brother! But we must be patient. We must wait! And that will make her death so much more, when Mother finally wills it. It is a gift worth waiting for."

         He sounds so much like her, Tifa thought in horror. He falls so easily into the same patterns that have made his mother insane. Insanely evil.

         "You are right, Frieze," Flaym agreed, calming, taking a step away from her. "I wasn't thinking."

         "It's all right, brother!" Frieze said immediately, grasping Flaym's shoulder in a gesture of comradeship. "Just wait for tonight! Remember what Mother said would happen tonight?"

         "I do," Flaym nodded, suddenly grinning. He took one last look at Tifa, his eyes flashing with their horrible power, and then he turned and headed for the door. "Thank you for stopping me, Frieze. The last thing I would want to do is anger Mother. You know how she can get."

         Frieze nodded and followed him out. He closed the door without another word, leaving Tifa alone once more. The water that Frieze had given her had done hardly anything but make her aware of how thirsty and hungry she still was. Oh, what she would give for some food!

         They came for her not long after, barely an hour later, by her considerably disoriented internal clock. It was not even Frieze whom they sent for her. The woman in white came instead, her eyes blank and pulsing with energy. Tifa could feel the electrical field that surrounded Azure, immensely powerful. Without speaking, the woman motioned for her to exit the cell. Tifa did so. And then Azure pointed toward the exit to the cave, and Tifa knew where they were going.

         The trip to the coliseum seemed to take barely a second, perhaps because Tifa wished it to take so much longer. She marched up the steps again, Azure close behind her, crackling with energy. Her lightning could paralyze as well as kill, as Tifa had found out the previous night. One strike had dropped her, and that was power. Nevertheless, Azure didn't scare her. None of them did. Everyone had a weakness, and Tifa merely had to find it.

         However, tonight was not the night to do it. Tonight she had to save the lives of whatever poor souls Messiah planned to destroy if she did not obey. She did not care that she would have to bow to that evil woman, praise her name and speak loudly of her reverence for the Messiah. The words were nothing, and she could fake them without a thought. She would do anything to prevent more people from dying. And then, just when Messiah thought she had broken her completely, she would strike, and kill the evil woman. And die at the hands of Messiah's enraged minions.

         It's worth it. If I have to die to take that bitch down, I'll do it in a heartbeat. She is too evil to continue to exist. She should have been dealt with long ago.

         Azure marched her to the platform, and then ordered her to stand in the middle of the same row she had the night before. Tifa obeyed, as Azure and the rest went through the motions of the sick, pointless ritual that Messiah insisted on having before she would appear. Hail to Messiah! Long live the Messiah! All to placate the woman's enormous ego.

         She glanced at Frieze, but he stood looking reverently toward his mother as she descended to the platform, floating down like an angel to settle gently into her throne. Where she had come from Tifa did not know. She had just seemed to emerge from the air and swoop gracefully down onto her throne, a beautiful figure in white. Tifa turned to look at her, keeping her hatred from her face.

         "Tifa Lockhart," Messiah whispered, smiling radiantly, the scarred mess that had once been her eyes terrible in its greatness. "Once again you have come before us. I hope that you will be better behaved tonight, my little puppet. Last night was not what I would have hoped for."

         You are nothing. Aloud, she was silent.

         "And what do you have to say tonight, Tifa Lockhart?" Messiah make a grand gesture with her arm, her motion encompassing the entire coliseum. "More anger, more spite?"

         Tifa shook her head slowly, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. Still she remained silent.

         "She seems calmer today," Messiah remarked conversationally to Flaym. "Do you think her spirit has been broken already?"

         "I think it needs to be broken further." Flaym's eyes glinted with fire.

         "We shall see." Messiah turned back to her and smiled. "What of it, Tifa Lockhart? What do you think of me today?"

         Tifa closed her eyes, struggling with her words. "You are the Messiah," she said softly.

         "If I needed you to tell me that, I would not be who I am today," the other answered with a gentle laugh. "What of your heart? Does it serve me as well?"

         "I live only to serve you, Messiah," Tifa said, remembering Cloud's words the previous night. Words that had torn her soul apart. She fell to one knee as Frieze had done, bowing her head.

         "She doesn't mean that!" Flaym took an angry step forward. Messiah turned to him, lips pursed together as if in innocent curiosity.

         "Why not, Flaym?" Her tone was neutral, flat and hard like the blade of a concealed knife before it slid into its victim. "Do you doubt my power?"

         "Of course not!" he protested quickly. "You know I would give my life for you, Mother! But this woman, this, blasphemer . . . " He paused, addressing his words to the soldiers gathered around them. "She is unworthy to worship you! She is worthy only to die!"

         "Do not be so sure, Flaym," Messiah whispered. His hand fell, his face shocked. He fell to one knee as Tifa had done, bowing his head in supplication, and said nothing more.

         "Even the unworthy can be made to see the way," Messiah continued softly. "Is that not right, Tifa Lockhart?"

         "I live only to serve you," Tifa repeated. "Messiah."

         "Well, she has said it twice," Messiah said dismissively, gesturing grandly and turning away. "What more do you want?"

         "Mother . . . ," Flaym gently protested, but fell silent at a simple glance. "Of course you are right. Forgive me."

         "Forgiven," Messiah said simply. "And so, Tifa Lockhart. You give yourself to me, heart and soul, of your own free will? Rise, and give your answer."

         Tifa rose, forcing herself to meet Messiah's empty gaze, praying that her words would not be so transparent that the other would see the lies coming from her lips.

         "I do."

         "Say it, then," Messiah ordered with another beautiful smile. "Say it so that all assembled can hear. Turn to them, and sing my praise."

         Tifa closed her eyes, fighting back her anger and the urge to vomit. She must do this. Lives were at stake. She turned to face the assembled soldiers.

         "My heart and soul, I give to Messiah!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. "I pledge myself to her! Hail to the Messiah!"

         "Hail to the Messiah!" the crowd roared back.

         Poor fools.

         "Well, I think there can be no more doubt," Messiah announced triumphantly, her voice filled with cold arrogance toward her helpless captive. "Turn and bow, Tifa Lockhart."

         Tifa did as instructed, grateful for Messiah's command. Had their gaze met again, she was sure that her hatred would have shown through.

         "You have given your heart and soul to me," Messiah informed her. "All here assembled have witnessed this. Now I ask for a gift from you to prove your worth. I ask for your life. Will you give it, Tifa Lockhart?"

         So this was it. Messiah was going to have her killed. She almost rose then, almost leapt for the platform as she had the previous night, even though she knew she was doomed to fail. But she did not. The lives of two children depended on her. Cloud was already dead. This was her chance to join him.

         "I live only to serve you," Tifa replied without hesitation. "My life is yours, Messiah."

         "Rise," Messiah intoned solemnly.

         Tifa did, and nearly leapt for her throat regardless of the consequences she knew would result. Because Messiah was no longer alone. Cloud stood at her side, regarding her with blank eyes.

         "My champion," Messiah whispered into his ear, even though her voice was still somehow loud enough for everyone to hear. "Tifa Lockhart has offered me a gift to prove her worship of me. She has offered me her life. You will take it."

         "I live only to serve you, Messiah," Cloud replied, his face blank and expressionless.

         Oh Cloud, Tifa thought sadly. It would be you whom she forced to do this. It falls so easily into her twisted view of drama, of irony. But it will not be you that takes my life. I know that. And I forgive you, Cloud. She stared at him, her anger gone. I love you. I will always love you.

         Cloud stepped toward her, reached the edge of the platform, and then leapt down to land next to her. His legs flexed with the drop. Slowly, his blank eyes boring into her, he unsheathed his sword.

         Tifa saw Frieze turn away, unable to look. This was his last chance to do what he knew was right, and he had refused, choosing instead to turn his back on her.

         "On your knees!" Messiah's beautiful voice had grown sultry and low, filled with lust at the thought of an execution.

         Tifa slowly dropped down, her neck now the same height as Cloud's hands. He raised Ragnarok skyward, twisting it slowly in the air, his blank eyes staring into hers. She searched desperately for any trace that the old Cloud Strife remained, anything to tell her that he was still in there, somewhere. She found nothing but a shell, and she was grateful. Death was far preferable to being a puppet of Messiah.

         "Strike!" Messiah cried, and then Cloud let his sword fall, and Tifa closed her eyes.

         "This is it!" Cid roared. "Mitch, we're goin' in!"

         "Yes sir!" his pilot responded heartily, throwing the Highwind into a steep dive. They fell, blasting apart the clouds with the fury of their passage, screaming toward the desert below.

         "We've got a reading, Cap'n!" Jerry called triumphantly from his station. "Three meters under! And it's big!"

         "We've got the bastard." Cid was grinning like a madman. "Ben, get ready to deploy the needle!"

         "Prepped and ready, sir," Ben said from his station. "Waiting on your command."

         "Yuffie's floating, sir," Jerry said. "As is her Chocobo. Looks like the earth monster didn't get either of them."

         "Poor bastard." Cid chuckled and slammed a fist down on the armrest of his Captain's chair. "We in range yet?" The ground was rushing toward them, growing steadily closer with each second. "Has it noticed us?"

         "It's moving," Jerry acknowledged. "Descending. But slowly. It won't be more than five meters under when we're close enough to deploy."

         "Then open it up!" Cid yelled. "Ben, drop the needle into place!"

         There was a sound of hissing pneumatics as Ben replied, and a tremendously long, hollow pole, pointed at the end, tore from the paint that had concealed it on the underside of the Airship and locked into place, filled with explosive.

         "Needle locked and ready to rock!" Ben gave him a crisp salute.

         "We're almost in position!" Mitch yelled. "Bringin' us down!"

         "I'll do the honors." Cid reached for his control stick and gave his pilot a meaningful look.

         "Yes sir!" Mitch acknowledged with a salute. "Give it hell, sir!" With that, he transferred control of the Highwind to Cid's station, as the air roared past them.

         "You better do this right, Cid!" Barret yelled from his chair, his hands desperately grasping the armrests. Vincent, by comparison, sat calmly with his arms crossed against his chest. "We're only gonna' get one shot at this!"

         "One shot is all I need," Cid assured him. "Let's do it!"

         "Monster's moving!" Jerry yelled. "Yuffie's clear!"

         "All right, you bastard," Cid growled, staring intently at his station as the Highwind streaked down over the desert with a terrifying roar of jet engines, the long needle hanging from its rear like the extending stinger of some massive wasp. "Let's see how you like the taste of this!"

         And then they were in position, and Cid let out a loud whoop, dropping the Highwind straight down onto his target. The needle plunged through the earth and then Cid's station flashed red, telling him that he had speared his target neatly through its midsection. An incredibly loud, animalistic cry of pain tore from the ground and echoed through the air toward the Airship.

         "Bye bye." Cid gritted his teeth in triumph as he brought the Highwind soaring back up into the sky, neatly breaking the needle off at its hilt, and hit the ignition switch.

         A wave of wind hit Tifa's neck. She felt metal there, its sharpened edge cool and hard. Her eyes slowly opened. A scream tore outward from the platform, the tortured scream of a voice too beautiful to belong to its owner. Cloud shuddered, taking a step away from her, his sword sliding away from her neck. His head was shaking violently, his eyes burning with red. Ragnarok dropped from his hands, clattering to the ground.

         "Tifa . . . ," he whispered, a tear falling from his eye as the red faded, followed quickly by another, and another. "Tifa!"

         She rushed to him then, not knowing what else to do, throwing her arms around him and knocking them both to the ground. My god. He's alive! Alive! Messiah continued to scream shrilly, on her knees on the platform, having fallen from her throne. The evil woman was holding her head in agony, her face contorted with pain.

         "Cloud!" Tifa cried. "Cloud, you can hear me?"

         "She . . . had my mind . . . ," Cloud said, his voice weak, filled with grief, tears flowing freely. "She had my mind . . ."

         "Mother!" Flaym cried, falling to Messiah's side, as Azure stood in shock, unmoving. Frieze dashed up the steps away from the two of them, toward the platform.

         "Mother!" Frieze cried. "What is wrong?"

         "No . . . Tifa," Cloud managed, hugging her close. "I can't . . . I can't stay. Her power is weakened . . . momentarily. But not destroyed. Not ended. She will take me again, Tifa." He closed his eyes against his tears. "I can't stop her! You have to run!"

         "There's nowhere to run to, soldier," Tifa whispered, kissing his ear, holding him against her as if he would fall apart if she let go. "I won't leave you. Not ever. I love you, Cloud Strife."

         "Tifa . . . ," he cried back. "Tifa . . . I . . ." His words disappeared into a whisper, and his head fell back against the coliseum floor. He seemed to have stopped breathing.

         "Cloud?" Tifa called desperately. "Cloud, speak to me!"

         "You!" Messiah cried angrily, striding toward her, having descended from her platform to confront Tifa directly. "Get off him!"

         Tifa rose, her face a mask of hate. Now was her chance. Now Messiah would die.

         Then Azure tore into her from behind. Her body went rigid with a dozen electrical shocks, twitching in agony. She fell back to the ground, away from Cloud, completely paralyzed.

         "Trymor is dead," Messiah cried, grabbing Tifa's collar and pulling her to her feet, holding her limp body up with little effort. "Your . . . monsters! Killed him! Killed my child!"

         "I live only to serve you," Tifa hissed, her voice filled with hate. "Messiah!"

         The woman gave a shrill, furious scream and smashed her to the ground. She landed, cracking her head painfully on the hard cement floor, and blackness began to overtake her vision.

         "The blasphemer will die!" Flaym cried as he started toward her, the last thing she saw before her vision disappeared.

         "No," a voice countered. Was it Cloud? Was he awake again? Was he going to save her?

         "No, brother," Frieze said, as she blacked out.

         Continue to Chapter 8

         Return to Chapter 6