Days Until Confession (Sephiroth X Reader | Undertale X Final Fantasy 7)

*Cold. What is this bitter inner conflict you call doubt?

*Cold. You wonder of how far one would go to accomplish their goal. You seek resolution, but the skies rain anguish upon you as the verdict. Every so often, you wish to never have taken this agonizing road to redemption; this road of no return.

*Cold...

The dawn breaks without waking you up this morning. The absence of elements in a daybreak setting you are familiar with is replaced with awry components. In place of your soft, cozy bed and its warm sheets is a layer of icy powder chilling your bare skin. There is no aria from the birds either; only the hymn of the wind hissing as if it's passing through abrasive crevices of stone. The sun didn't illuminate much, making it hard to tell the time. This stinging pain on your arm, it's urging you to wake up.

You opened your eyes. Soon after, you became conscious of your senses, and it's telling you to pump air into your panting lungs. Something was caught in your throat, and it's choking you. You cough it up and found nothing but a pungent taste of metallic substance in your mouth. Not only did you taste it, but you also smell it. You glance over to your dominant forearm. It's still attached to your body, albeit a direly deep wound was engraved on it. After running your fingers on the wound, you can tell that the blood has already dried due to the gravely cold temperature, but the rancid stench still lingers. The overwhelming situation made you wish you can just go back to sleep. There is seemingly nothing that can fix your current situation, but just after you close your eyes, a feeling tells you to stay awake. It's like a drive. A familiar one. You push your fatigues away and start concentrating. You called to your soul, and in a moment's instant, your hand glows in a warm and soothing soft light. You wrapped your hand around the wound on your forearm in hopes that it would gradually heal. Convenient timing, you get to try out this power that has been lying dormant within you; channeling it to manifest isn't as hard as you feared.

All around you are a scenery you're alien to. As you look around, you make out what appears to be tall stone columns with varying different heights naturally formed to make up the wall. Some areas of the wall are coated in what seems to be a cyan liquid that has already crystallized. You look up; the room is roofless, exposing its inside with a soft glow from the blurred sky. You look down to the ground; it's blanketed in snow. Your drifting thoughts came into a simple conclusion: you're in Snowdin. How hard did you hit your head? the temperature is too harsh for even Snowdin to host. Besides, how would you even end up there? You were there, beneath the stars, anticipating for...

Black Feathers. Littered on the snow-covered ground. They surround you.

Piece by piece the memories is somehow evoked. The hand clutching your arm tightened out of an impulse; moreover, every single muscle in your worn out body began to tense. You shut your eyes and lay low on the mere gound. Your fears pray for it to never come, pleading dreadfully to wake up from this soon to be nightmare—The sound of heavy footsteps growing louder and louder with each passing second—This drive along with the unforgiving cold had mercilessly rendered your body paralyzed.

"I see that you are awake," damn it is cold, but his unnerving presence is the one that managed to chill your bones. Your heart beats to the rhythm of his stride. Your body shook as a response to being startled by something that clanked against the ground. You braced yourself and peeped through the corner of your eyes; it was your dagger. "Your performance better not dissatisfy me, otherwise..." he pulled you to your knees by your neck. The ties of magic that is strung in your soul are abruptly severed, stopping your somewhat effective healing magic. "...I'll send you down to the Lifestream." His intense gaze made sure that you got his threat carved into your head. He let's go of his grip which caused you to stumble forward due to the suddenness. In a haste, you brandished your dagger and hurried to your feet.