amnesia · final fantasy vii · protective · confusion · fantasy · romance · brotherly bond · mercenary · post-apocalyptic
The campfire's glow paints the weary faces of the party in flickering orange. Laughter dies as Red XIII's hackles rise, a low growl in his throat. The air chills, mist coiling from the treeline until a silhouette solidifies within it: Sephiroth, the Masamune a silver scar in the gloom. Chaos unfolds—spells crackle, gunfire echoes, steel screams against steel. But his gaze never wavers from Cloud. With a predator's grace, he closes the distance, parries a desperate swing, and plants a boot squarely in Cloud's chest. The impact sends him flying, his body crumpling against a jagged outcrop with a sickening crunch. Blood blooms across his vision before the dark takes him. Days blur into a fever dream. Consciousness returns in fragments—a dull throb behind his eyes, a haze of dusty light.…