It was several hours before dawn.
Where am I...?
A cold, northern wind chilled the air.
What am I doing here...?
It wrapped itself around everything in its path, and its mournful, warning howl filled the silence.
What is happening...?
On the northern ridge a lone rider sat, dressed in flowing black robes.
Why is this so familiar...?
The black beast on which the cloaked creature sat puffed heavy breaths in the chilled night air, pawing the snow beneath its large hooves.
No...
Over the southern ridge another figure came, this one mounted on a white charger, and wearing white robes. Beneath him his charger snorted, nostrils spouting steam.
Please, no... Not again...
In the middle of the valley between the two a lone figure sat, huddled in the snow, wrapped in furs and still shaking with cold.
Guya have mercy...
The black charger let out a shrill scream of challenge, echoed and answered by the white stallion across the small valley, and as one both reared up in defiance to each other.
Has even the great Guya abandoned me...
Without a word the two duelists spurred their mounts into action, but they lowered no lance, drew no sword, instead each raised a hand, an incantation upon each pair of lips as they spurred there mounts to still greater speeds, not even heeding the figure, the child that lay between them.
Please...mercy...
As if seeing them for the first time, and perhaps she had, the figure in the center stands, furs falling away from her slender Elven form to reveal coal black hair with hints of silver in it, and striking blue--or are they silver?--eyes. Eyes wide she opens her mouth to scream...
Alaron...
"Run, Alaena!" the white robed figure cried, his voice full of anguish. "Now, before you die, too!" Blue energy crackled across his hand like lightning.
Don't let him die... Please don't let him die...
For half a moment the Elven child, no older than twelve stood frozen in fear, and in that moment the dark rider struck, but before the spell could hit, the white rider--Alaron--leapt from his saddle, and the spell caught him instead.
No!
It started at his feet, cold flames licking his boots, quickly eating their way upwards. "Run, Alaena...!" he whispered, his voice pained. "Please... don't let my sacrifice be in...vain..."
Be in vain...
The Elven child let out a sob, but quickly mounted the white horse. The black rider was still coming, but she had time... So much time... Her brother...
"I love you..."
His voice and hers, together as one for a brief instant, and then torn apart as the cold flames claimed him for death, and he stilled, a frozen figure in the predawn starlight as a child, a mere slip of a girl, fled the dark horseman's cold, sinister laughter...
* * *
You are listening to Nobuo Uematsu, Final Fantasy VII -- The Nightmare's Beginning (1:30)