It's been a few years now. Maybe he hasn't slept for awhile, or maybe his dreams have become that opaque.

Either way, the portal to his mind has opened once more, and there is the sight of a slightly-taller Lombax standing in the center of a great city that... has certainly seen better days in its prime. Something other than the local flora leveled this city allowing it to overrun the massive buildings and apparent years of research. The text upon books and certain signs is far from human, detailing very specific weapons and projects. It's nighttime now, and not a single other living being could be found.

...why? Surely such an intelligent race would not simply abandon such important work, right?

Something about this world sparks a familiar sensation in his heart. Its structure, a faint blur of the people who once resided here... but why? He's never been here before. Why would he be having these kinds of memories? He would simply turn, to question his robotic companion about the matter - Clank was, once more, nowhere to be seen.

So he sits alone, under the structural planetarium, gazing past the crafted steel and wires into the real thing beyond. He'd been brought here, and he could feel something within his subconscious telling him to stay.

He could never quell that curiosity of his.

It is quiet and cold. This is a ghost town. No one ever truly lived here, for no one was meant to stay. No roots were put down, no futures built, only an ephemeral present, past now. It wasn't meant to stand for long, a mining town built to strip away what was valuable, leaving nothing behind but the desolate land and the shells of buildings. Why would anyone want to stay, when there's nothing of worth remaining?

There are no people here, but in the shadows of an abandoned building, the body of a monster lies on the ground. The chill wind that blows through the wounded walls stirs the beast's hair, so that for a moment, it almost seems about to stir, but it does not stir. It is dead.

It is not the only creature here. Another lies nearby. It has a long, leathery reptilian body, partially hidden by what seems to be a tangle of wings, but like the other creature, as monstrous as it may be, its head and torso are largely human. Its hair is silver, and its wings are black. It lies just as still as the other, and it, too, seems to be lifeless. It lies motionless for a long time, only its long, pale hair moving in the breeze.

Then, suddenly, it opens its eyes. They are bright green, glowing faintly, their pupils narrowed to razor-thin slits. It shifts its limbs, reaching out as if trying to drag itself forward, but the movement is pained. It isn't clear whether it's an injury or something else that has impaired it. Perhaps its body is simply too heavy or too malformed. Regardless, it stills again, but its eyes remain open.

Sephiroth--for it is him--turns toward the other monster (his fallen friend) with an oddly empty, hopeless expression on his face. He's not used to experiencing such despair, such uncertainty. It pierces him through, and he doesn't know what to do. He only knows that it's cold, and that he's changed, changed utterly.