After a few more days of traveling, Zack and Jenova had come to the green southern region of the Northern Continent, where a small settlement stood on the very edge of a lush, forested valley. This settlement was a strange one compared to others Zack had visited thus far; it consisted of little else save for numerous tents set up around a bed of large prehistoric fossils. In his now-typical Sephiroth guise, Zack walked up to the man who was sitting at the entrance of the closest dwelling.
         "Welcome to Bone Village, a town for nature lovers," the man greeted. "What brings you here?"
         "I must get to what lies beyond this settlement."
         "You mean the City of the Ancients?"
         Zack nodded.
         "Well, to do that, first you'll need to navigate the Sleeping Forest, just beyond here."
         "Very well," Zack replied, before turning away from the man and continuing his walk through the town.
         "Hold on, sir! You can't just stroll into the forest unprepared! Without a Lunar Harp, the woods'll swallow you up!"
         Zack turned back to look at the man. "What is this 'Lunar Harp' of which you speak, and where can I find one?"
         "It's an ancient musical instrument whose melody can awaken the Sleeping Forest. There are quite a number of the things scattered throughout this clearing. We can dig one up if you like—for the right price, of course."
         Zack nodded and began searching around in the folds of his coat for some gil. "All right. Excavate a Lunar Harp for me, and quickly. I haven't much time to lose."
         The impatient, commanding tone of "Sephiroth"'s voice was enough to persuade the man to call his crew into action. As the excavators scrambled about the camp in preparation for the dig, a young female crew member turned to Zack and asked, "Say, you wouldn't happen to know the girl who came here a few hours ago, would you? She was in a hurry to get through the Sleeping Forest as well."
         Zack could sense Jenova growing even more impatient. "Girl?" Zack asked.
         "Yeah. She had long brown hair and wore a pink dress."
         Aeris! Zack immediately thought, momentarily forgetting that Jenova was able to read his mind. Zack spoke again, this time, his words fully directed by his captor.
         "I'm sorry, but I don't know her. This excavation won't take long, will it?"
         "Not at all!" the woman answered.
         "Good." Zack folded his arms in front of him and watched the various men and women as they conducted their dig. In the meantime, Zack's mind called out Jenova's name, wanting to ask her more about what was going on, but he got nary a reply.

         "We must hurry," said Jenova as they cleared the final grove of trees, coming upon a long pathway made of large shells which had been bleached white by many centuries' worth of sunlight.
         "What's the big rush?" Zack asked. "Does it have something to do with Aeris being here?"
         "The Last Cetra should not have come. She should not have known to come here…"
         "'Last Cetra'? You… don't mean Aeris, do you?"
         Jenova seemed to ignore this question. "Walk faster," she commanded, pushing Zack's feet forward with an even greater intensity, forcing him to break out into a run.
         Zack ran through the valley of coral until he came before a set of even larger shells, some of which looked like buildings. Was this the City of the Ancients that the man in Bone Village was talking about? Unfortunately, he had no time to stop and take in the strange sights, as Jenova continued to push him forward, toward the largest structure in the area, which stood in the middle of the lost city. It was a large, round building of sorts, made up of many layers of shell and coral, and inside, there were many strange, coral-like forms, all bathed in a blue light. Finally, Zack came to a dead end, seemingly at the very heart of the place, this great citadel of the Ancients. Looking straight ahead, Zack could see a small but deep lake of clear water, whose surface was so still and undisturbed that it seemed to be made of glass. To his left, at the far edge of the lake, sat an unusual building in the form of a large, twisted shell.
         "That is where we must go," Jenova said as Zack's eyes fell on the shell.
         "Wait!" Zack pleaded, as his feet moved forward at Jenova's command. "Tell me about Aeris! Is she really an Ancient?"
         "You shall soon see for yourself, puppet."
         Zack entered the strange shell building, walking around the interior until he came before a break in the fence which lined the inner perimeter. Before him was an opaque, rippling image of a clownfish in living coral. At Jenova's command, Zack tried jumping through the image, but it only repelled him.
         "What's down there?"
         "The last of the Cetra…" Jenova hissed.
         Zack paused, before innocently replying, "What's she doing?"
         "Foiling my plans, undoubtedly. And yet if it is Sephiroth who succeeds, his plans shall be foiled as well."
         Zack nearly breathed a sigh of relief. From the sounds of things, the further he and Jenova were from Aeris, the better. "Well, guess there's nothing we can do now."
         "We will wait," Jenova announced. "Let us leave this chamber and retreat into the coral forests of this citadel. A way will come to us shortly… yet little does he know that I will have the last laugh."
         "Huh? Are you talking about Sephiroth?"
         Jenova remained silent, guiding her puppet into the clusters of thick, stony coral.

         They were there for a number of hours, and during that time, the interior of the citadel had grown dark. Taking note of this, it occurred to Zack that night must've fallen while they waited. What—or who—they were waiting for, he still wasn't sure.
         Then all of a sudden, Zack noticed someone entering the central chamber. It was a young man with spiky blond hair and a large sword slung across his back. Unmistakably, it was Cloud, and for the first time since being inhabited by Jenova, Zack could clearly see that the sword the blond bore was his own. What had compelled Cloud to take it away from him in the first place? And what was he doing here now?
         "Sephiroth…" Jenova whispered. "As I've anticipated, you've sent your favored one to continue doing your bidding."
         Zack shivered. "Wha—what do you mean?"
         "Is it not obvious? Yet he won't get far if the barricade is still in place."
         Zack continued to watch from his hiding place as Cloud entered the shell, and didn't come out. Likewise, two of his traveling companions soon raced in after Cloud and followed him into the shell. Then, all of a sudden, Zack felt his feet move forward.
         "Jenova! Where are we going?"
         "We are following them, of course."
         "But isn't it impossible to get past the fish?"
         "It seems as if the barricade has been removed. Perhaps the Cetra was awaiting her companions' arrival… foolish girl. Now let us hurry."
         "Sorry, but not this time!"
         With all his will, Zack told his body to stop and not to give in to Jenova's demands, but it was all for naught. Jenova was simply too strong for Zack to handle.
         No. He knew that he mustn't think such things; that was what Jenova wanted. This time, however, something deep down within him reminded Zack that his will was his own, and he was its ultimate master. Thus, he redoubled his effort to gain control over his legs, and much to his relief, they slowed down as he walked up the pathway inside the shell. The opening in the fence—sans fish—was not far away now, and he had to do everything in his power to get his feet to stop completely, before it was too late. Jenova laughed.
         "You cannot resist me, no matter how hard you try."
         "Go to hell," Zack spat back.
         She laughed again. "Welcome to your own, boyfriend of the Last Cetra."
         Zack gasped as he felt himself being strangled by the sheer force of Jenova's will, as if millions of microscopic fibers wound around every single muscle in his body. He fought against it as Jenova forced him to unsheath the Masamune, then fought against it again as she made him jump down the fishless opening in the middle of the shell, avoiding the long, winding staircase altogether. He fought against it yet again as she pulled her strings tighter, raising his arms, forcing both of his hands to maintain their tight grip on the hilt of the impossibly long sword.
         When he first felt the tip of the Masamune's blade touch its mark, he knew he could fight no more.

*****

         Reeve was on his apartment's small balcony, enjoying a smoke, when it happened.
         Through the eye with the special contact lens, he witnessed the horrific moment. Dutifully he fought the Jenova creature alongside Cloud and Yuffie, then they all silently regarded the limp form of Aeris Gainsborough that Sephiroth had left behind. Cloud was still stunned, though this shock rapidly gave way to grief, especially after Yuffie suddenly burst into tears and buried her face into his chest.
         Soon, they were back upstairs by the lake in the heart of the citadel, and Reeve could almost feel Yuffie lean her weight up against Cait Sith's large moogle carrier. As she sniffled, Cait directed his mog to place an arm around her shoulders, and they both watched as Cloud, now treading water in the center of the lake, let Aeris body, with her oddly serene face, slip into the water's depths.
         It was hard for them to leave the citadel afterwards, but leave they did, retiring to one of the shell-houses for the rest of the night. As Cloud shed his wet clothes and crawled into bed, Yuffie followed suit, and Cait looked down on both of them, wondering if they would ever be able to fall asleep after the terrible event that had just occurred. There must have been something about the glowing blue stones in that dwelling, or the mystic air of the Forgotten Capital itself, because somehow the two of them dropped off to sleep fairly easily.
         Reeve, who was in Midgar, could find no such devices to ease him into somnambulism. He tapped his earpiece to shut Cait down for the night, then gazed out at Midgar's murky skies. It was some hours later here than it was in the Forgotten Capital, but even so, he was wide awake. A slight breeze whistled past his face, and it was only then that he became aware of a few cold, wet streams against his cheeks. "Shit," he sniffled to himself as he wiped his arm across his face and trudged back inside.
         He closed the sliding glass doors and made his way to the couch, promptly extinguishing the bare remains of his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table. Staring at his closed laptop at one edge of the table, he thought about his journey with these people as Cait Sith. Aeris was the only one of the group that he had been acquainted with before any of this happened, but as they went on, he discovered that he never actually knew her. Everyone who had ever befriended her loved her, this much he was aware of, but it was not until this journey that he could get a sense of why. Even then, it was not something he could easily put into words.
         It was during these ponderings that Reeve heard some footsteps in the hallway outside his door, but it was not until after he felt that familiar pang in his chest that he realized they couldn't be Elena's, as she had left a couple days ago on a mission. Why was he still getting this nervous feeling whenever she was—or might be—nearby? He was fairly sure that he wasn't in love with her, but for some reason, she caused this anxiety to plague him. He sat still for a few minutes, neither moving nor thinking, when all of a sudden he decided that the air in the apartment was stale, and he needed to get out.

         Reeve soon found himself on a train headed toward the slums. As the railcars snaked their way around Midgar's central pillar, he stared down at the remains of Sector Seven, the slowly healing pain of its destruction blending in with his new grief. He got off in Sector Four, where he wound through dark alleys and past haphazard, rusting metal buildings to Sector Five. Relying on instinct and vague memory, he came upon the church, a tall building of stone and stained glass long abandoned by whatever religious sect had built it. He had only been here once before, and back then it was entirely by accident; as was the case with a few others he knew, this was the very place where he'd been introduced to Aeris.
         Reeve gently pushed one of the doors open and entered the church. It was dark, save for a stream of white light coming down from a hole in the ceiling which landed directly on the flower patch near the pulpit. As he walked down the center aisle, he spied a small shadow moving behind the flowers.
         "Who's there?" Reeve called out cautiously, doing a mental inventory of his equipped materia. To his surprise, the voice that answered him was that of a boy.
         "Huh? I—I wasn't doing anything!"
         Reeve shook his head. "That's okay. I just want to know what a kid like you is doing here this late at night. Don't you know how dangerous it is?"
         Instead of answering him, the boy in the shadows asked, "Do you know where she is?"
         "Far, far away," Reeve replied, his voice wavering slightly. "Now once again, why are you here?"
         "I'm running away from home. I'm gonna find her and bring her back! I don't care how far she is!"
         This boy's determination briefly reminded the executive of Cloud, but Reeve knew that this child's plan would be fruitless. "I would advise against it. She's… too far for you to reach."
         "How do you know that?"
         "I'm a good friend of hers."
         "Yeah, right."
         "I'm telling the truth. Anyway, you shouldn't worry about her… She's smart. She can take care of herself."
         "Yeah, I guess…" He fell silent, then added, "Hey Mister, you think she'll ever come back?"
         For a moment, Reeve found himself staring at the beams of light streaming down upon the yellow blossoms. There was something mysterious, almost spiritual, about them. "I don't know," he found himself murmuring. "I suppose it's up to her."
         "I hope she does. I miss her."
         "I do as well." Reeve extended an arm toward the boy. "Now, let me walk you home."
         "You swear you won't tell my dad where I was?"
         "I swear."
         "And that she's really okay?"
         "Yes…"
         The boy stepped into the light, being careful not to tread on any of the flowers, and for the first time, Reeve could make out his features. He looked to be about twelve or thirteen, with shoulder-length black hair, eyes that were almost as dark, and a small black birthmark right in the middle of his forehead. Reeve's eyes widened.
         "Okay, I'll go home," the boy said in a serious tone. "Don't forget what you said, Mister—'cause if you're wrong, then you're gonna pay."
         Momentarily frozen in place, Reeve watched as the boy carefully stepped around the rest of the flowers, then bolted down the center aisle toward the front doors, one of which had been left ajar. Reeve chased after him shouting, "Hey, wait!" but by the time he reached the doors, the boy was gone.

         He stood there for awhile blinking, his mind still processing what he had seen, when he felt something shift within the folds of his jacket. Reeve reached in and pulled out the thick envelope Tseng had left for him. He had planned to open it while at work that day, but never got the chance, and thus it had been left forgotten in his jacket's inner pocket. Quietly, he stepped back into the depths of the church, toward the flower patch blessed with moonlight, where he carefully tore open one of the short ends of the envelope.
         An ordinary-looking brass key slid out of the envelope, which Reeve quickly tucked away in his shirt pocket; however, the thick mass of folded paper that had surrounded the key wasn't so eager to leave its trappings. Reeve pulled out the batch of papers, all bound by a single staple, and unfolded them.
         He scanned the documents, his eyes wide with wonder, as memories of his last conversation with Tseng flooded back. The first few pages were from the coroner's report for the elder Tseng, including a detailed description of the bullet that was found lodged in his brain. Following that were a few articles clipped from various lower city tabloids—the types of papers which were routinely rooted out and destroyed by the Shinra before ever seeing distribution. These articles hinted at a conspiracy surrounding the death of the elder Tseng, and a few of them included the same grainy photograph of a lone gunman on a ridge overlooking the Corel reactor. Reeve froze when he saw this photo and squinted at the four-year-old ink, but couldn't make out any distinguishing marks that would hint at the gunman's identity. Reeve sighed wearily, and flipped past various other documents and clippings until he came to the very last page, which turned out a map, drawn by hand on plain white copy paper.
         Reeve quickly recognized the map as being a rough diagram of the Midgar Slums; judging by all the little marks and notes, it pointed to a small structure in Sector Six, near the Sector Seven gate and just before Wall Market. Hastily, he pulled this last page free of the others, the latter of which he returned to the envelope, and then his inner jacket pocket. He then strode out of the church toward the Sector Five border.
         The strange beasts that populated this polluted land didn't give him much trouble on his way through the slums, and by the time he reached the small park near the border, he had only just started to break into a sweat. Squinting into the darkness, Reeve could make out two ghostly figures amongst the ruins of the playground—a young woman in pink quietly sitting on one of the swings, and a man in a dark suit with long black hair kneeling before her. He blinked, and they were gone. It was then that he noticed the small shed behind the swings, blown over on its side as a result of the Sector Seven plate being felled. Reeve glanced at his map in his hand, then back up at the shed.
         That must be the place.
         Cautiously, he walked up to the shed and drew out the key that had been left for him in the envelope. He slid the key into the lock, which was at the end of the door furthest from the ground. It fit perfectly, and with a little additional effort, the door was open. Reeve peered inside and soon noticed a flashlight laying inside. He took a glance around the playground, just to verify that he was the only one there, then crawled inside and turned the flashlight on.
         Wires, switches, and other electrical components made up the majority of the shed's contents, but there was one object which soon caught his eye. It was a long rectangular box made of fine mahogany, its edges reinforced with tarnished silver, and its narrow sides coated with a light sheet of dust. Securely fastened to the top of the box was a large brown envelope. Reeve removed this envelope and peered at the contents inside—a bunch of photographs and as a plastic bag which contained a single silver bullet, which was scratched and stained.
         Reeve picked up the bag and examined it, noticing that some of the details on the bag's label matched those on the coroner's report that he had read back in the church. Hastily, he checked the serial number against the base of the bullet to that listed in the report. The numbers matched. So this is the bullet that killed Yoshiro's father, Reeve thought. Then this box…
         After placing the bag back in the envelope, he picked up the photographs. Some of them matched those in the newspaper clippings, while others were entirely different. These latter photos gave him pause; they were of a female Turk, in a wreck of a house in Gongaga, a large smear of blood directly beneath her body, and her clothing torn and dirty. Reeve's eyes widened, and he put his hand to his chin as he stared at the harrowing images. Good God. This is Sasha…
         Curiosity biting at him harder and harder, Reeve put the photographs away and took the wooden case in his hands. On the silver plate in the center of the lid, the only inscription was the word "FOXGLOVE". Reeve undid the latch and pushed the lid upward. Inside the box was a gun; a smaller, slightly modified version of a Sniper CR, with a silver-plated barrel and elaborately etched patterns, highlighted with gold filagree, on the body and handle. Five silver bullets rested in oblong depressions within the box's velvet lining, while a sixth depression was left empty in the middle. Reeve picked up the bullet directly to the left of the empty spot and looked at the serial number. It was exactly one less than the bullet in the plastic bag. The bullet to the right was one number higher.
         Reeve swallowed hard and carefully removed the gun from the soft lining, turning it over in his hands. Written sideways on the outer edge of the handle was the following inscription: To my son Rufus on his 21st birthday: Never forget that the power to change the world is always within your grasp. From: Your loving father.

         Reeve felt a sinking feeling as he clutched onto the silver-plated gun, this "Foxglove". He found himself vividly recalling the story Yoshiro had related to him only days before, the same tale he had regarded back then with disbelief and sheer skepticism. Now, he would be hard-pressed not to believe it. Running his thumb over the grooves of the filigree, Reeve thought about the meaning behind Yoshiro's gift; what was it that the Turk wanted him to do? He sat there for what seemed like a long time, thinking about his friend Rufus, whose dark side was only now fully revealed to him.
         Rufus. He was pivotal to all this, somehow; the means for Reeve to get what he was after, and for Tseng and Yoshiro to truly rest in peace. But was what Reeve wanted now the same thing as it was before? It did not take him long to realize that, no, it wasn't. His dual yearnings for wealth and greater control over Shinra had slowly dissipated with his various observations through the eyes of a robotic cat. Not to say that these old desires had disappeared altogether, but they paled in comparison to his new ones. Back during that final conversation with Yoshiro, he feared this to be true; but now he knew that he must not fear it, as it was clear that he had no other choice. He needed to stay with Cloud, Tifa, and the others, for he had this gnawing feeling in his gut that the secret to his personal satisfaction, the answer to the part of himself he could never completely understand, lay with them.
         Reeve smiled to himself as he came to understand the true potential of Yoshiro's gift, for in his hands was a tool far more powerful and influential than a lifetime's worth of financial assets.
         Leaning back, he closed his eyes and held the gun barrel to his face, feeling the cold silver against his forehead and nose. This beautiful weapon, tarnished by evil, was the key he needed to unlock Rufus T. Shinra, and with a little jimmying, Reeve could turn circumstances in his favor. As it was, the kidnapping he had recently orchestrated had been but a dry run for something greater, a gamble that would benefit both himself and Cait Sith's traveling companions. For a split second he thought about Reno, and how fortunate it was that they had bid each other farewell before this particular turning point. He would not hurt his closest, dearest friend; not again, never again.
         He hoped to the deepest depths of the Planet that Reno would keep his end of the deal, as Reeve's plans would possibly bring him closer to Rufus than he'd ever been, as well as make him the greatest traitor in the history of the Company. Reeve needed Rufus in order to get what he wanted, that was obvious; the only thing he wasn't yet sure of was the lengths he would have—or be willing—to go to in order to make any of his influence over the President bring about favorable results.
         Reeve took a deep, almost quavering, breath as he thought about how the cards of fate that he had been dealt were heavily in his favor, and how easy it would be to blow this most lucrative hand. The future of the Shinra Electric Power Company—and perhaps even the Planet—depended upon him.