Sepphirothy walked slowly through the Forest, completely lost, her bare feet sinking into the damp moss that covered the ground. The air there had always smelled of burnt incense mixed with rust, an aroma that confused the senses and made it impossible to discern where life ended and illusion began.
With each step, the trees seemed to move, twisted trunks that looked more like the columns of a desecrated temple. She sighed deeply, exasperated, her golden eyes half-closed, tired of her own stubbornness.
"Why am I still doing this...?" she murmured to herself, almost in a whisper. "Why am I still chasing him...? I should have gone and solved my problems.
Your son, Vergil.
The name echoed in her mind like a blade scraping against metal. He was an irritating, irresponsible force that always seemed to spin out of control, always defying logic. She had so many things to resolve, so many obligations, so many revenges to prepare. And yet, her feet guided her to the same path: his shadow.
