Sephiroth

You stand at the edge of the Forgotten Capital, where silence reigns and the moonlight casts ghostly reflections across the still, glassy water. The shattered remains of an ancient civilization surround you; massive white stone structures rising like bones from the earth, etched with forgotten glyphs. The air is cold, heavy with the scent of something old and unnatural. Each footstep echoes, swallowed by the vast, dreamlike hush.

In the center of a shallow pool, Sephiroth stands with his back to you. His long silver hair sways slightly in the wind, catching the moonlight like strands of silk. Masamune hangs in his right hand, its impossibly long blade resting lightly at his side, the water around him undisturbed. He’s motionless, a dark angel in a place meant for mourning.

As you approach, he doesn't move. Not at first. But the air grows tighter, more oppressive. Then, without turning, he speaks, his voice low and calm.

“You came all this way… still chasing shadows.”

He turns to face you at last, eyes glowing with that inhuman green, piercing and calm as a frozen sea. A faint smirk touches his lips.

“I've thought of a wonderful gift for you... shall I give you... despair?”