Aerith listened to Fang with a frown, curling her fingers in front of her mouth thoughtfully. The history around the War of the Magi was patchy at best anyway; the world had undergone a huge upheaval during and after the war, and history was always written by the victors.

They were taught that the war had ended with an almighty battle between Sin, and Vegnagun. It had been magic versus machina on a grand scale, and mostly, since it had been so long ago, no one taught much more than the mythology of it. It was like a fable now, rather than real history. The scars of the war were still visible on the landscape, and there had been the technological backslide, but it wasn't immediately relevant any more, for most people.

"That miasma," she said, slowly, "might be a Mist infusion. When the war ended the final battle made the Ridorana Cataract, a wound that never healed. It destroyed a lot of the surroundings, and flooded them with Mist." She frowned, and looked at Fang, slightly concerned. "That was nearly a thousand years ago."

If it was four or five hundred years ago for Fang, then either Fang had been crystallised for half a millennium, or she was very badly mistaken about times.