That was the first thing he noticed, he could smell again. And after an eternity of nothingness even the rancid smell of
the decrepid tomb was heaven sent. He wondered, if he could smell could he see? Could he move and feel and breathe as well?
He discovered, to his glee, that he could.
He lifted his ancient hands and opened his eyes. And for the first time in centuries he saw. The sight however, was not very appealing.
He was on some sort of massive underground platform. There was a thick purple gas rising from under it and pyreflies everywhere.
He looked at his hands and was happy to see they were not skeletal with rotting flesh hanging off them. He was meat and bone once more.
He began to make his way out of the tomb, his tomb. Powerful fiends gave him a wide berth, they knew when they were outmatched. The tomb was long and twisted, dark and deep, yet he knew which way to go. He remembered well the path to keep, as his last memory was of them draggin him down here.
He was filled with bitter hindsight, his last lucid moments returned to him. The farce of a trial they and forced him to be a part of, the look of grim satisfaction on the maester's faces as they sentenced him, and the slow walk down to his supposed final resting place. He would make them pay. His recollection was fuzzy however and it took him a moment to recall exactly who they were.
Yevon. Those manipulative dogs, those souless golems. Those men who had condemded Spira to an eternity of suffering because of thier refusal to see the obvious truth. He had tried to reveal it, tried to make Spira listen. The final summoning wasn't final at all, except for the poor soul who used it. It only served to perpetuate the cycle of death Spira had been drowning in.
And what did they do when he tried to make them see sense? They crucified him, they hated him because they were afriad. They labeled him dangerous. They said he was trying to take away Spira's hope, when he was actually trying to give them hope. Hope for a way to defeat Sin, forever.
They placed the most heartless and cruel punishment on him that was at thier disposal. The Fiend's Touch Curse. A curse that forces a living soul to become a fiend, trapped in a nightmarish limbo of darkness and pain. A limbo where a second lasts an eternity, that is both never ending and all encompasing.
But now he was free, some bleesed person had ventured down here and killed the fiend who housed his soul, allowing it to return to his body. He had no idea if this was thier intention or not, he rather doubted it, but either way it didn't matter. He was once again flesh. He could bring down rightous punishment on those who had betrayed him, and his punishment would be rightous.
He could see light now, and an exit. He made his way outside and glanced at the sky for the first time in what seemed like millenia. He breathed air, felt the wind, and smelled the flowers of Spira once more. He did not know how long he had been prisoner, what had happened in Spira since his imprisonment, or if anything he knew of was still standing or had finally been destroyed by Sin. But he did know one thing, they would hear his name and remember.
They would remember the name, Omega.
