Cloud stood among the ruins, his hair fluttering in the breeze. He shook slightly, and looked down at the immensely long sword protruding through his chest. A trickle of blood seeped through his shirt, and he looked up at the wielder of the sword. Sephiroths’ silver hair waved like a metal fire. Cloud took in a shaky breath, and said “D-damn you.... Sephiroth.....” and with his final breath, he whispered “Aerith... I’m coming....” and hung limp on the sword.