A Fleeting Dream:

Among all the places where Yu Yevon could have called his all-important assemble, he had deemed the Council Chamber as the safest, being one of the few places that had been left still relatively intact by the bombardments. That was no mere coincidence, off course: in order to diffuse a widespread sense of security among the population, the High Summoner had worked hard to create magical barriers over Zanarkand's key infrastructures, so that they would be well protected from artillery fire. Such a protective barrier was both highly efficient and nearly indiscernible to the sight from the building it was put on, were it not for the faint glow emitted by the glyphs that powered it. That, and the high-caliber rounds that bounced off harmlessly whenever one of said barriers was hit.

Mildly intrigued by Lenne's promise of an outstanding disclosure, right after nightfall I joined the crowd that had already gathered past the main door of this spacious building. A few chosen Summoners acted as sentinels at its entrance: to maintain the uttermost secrecy, they carefully monitored the entering crowd, seeking any potential intruder for security reasons. That might have been a perfectly reasonable precaution against the ever-present threat of Bevelle's spies, but that was not their only concern: unexplainably, some of my fellow citizens of Zanarkand had an annoying, irrational desire to meddle into top-secret stuff they were not supposed to know. And Zanarkand's interrogation techniques to discern an ordinary curious from a harmful mole could get quite painful quite easily, or so I had been told.

Anyway, dating back to Zanarkand's founding, this chamber was a hemispherical building with several hundred seats; each seat was not a mere richly adorned armchair, but rather a floating platform that could be lifted or lowered by its occupant as he attended his political duties. The height that one could reach with his platform depended entirely on his powers as a Summoner. Naturally, the High Summoner's seat was the one that could be lifted up higher, whereas mine could barely reach a grown man's waist; but considering Zanarkand's rigid hierarchical structure, such a discrimination was not to be unexpected, and I wasn't really in a position to make a fuss about it, anyway: afterall, I've never had neither the inclination nor the predisposition for arousing speeches. Plus, I seriously doubted anyone would have ever cared to hear my unimportant opinion.

Thus, I spent most of my time within this Chamber boring myself to death by listening to the continuous bickering among the eldest Summoners, as our so-called government repeatedly proved its incompetence by debating endlessly for hours without reaching a point. Then Yu Yevon would usually stand up from his throne to pronounce a few chosen words, and everyone would do as he had told, applauding him even for his ability to get things done when others couldn't find a feasible solution. With the benefit of hindsight, I must admit that dismissing Zanarkand's internal struggles for power as something that did not concern me was a big mistake on my part, but at the time I could not yet grasp the implications of leaving my life into someone else's hands. Little did I suspected how my naïvety was about to bite me in the arse.


The two men were standing one in front of the other, like two mute, immobile statues eternally intent at looking one another with contempt: despite not having expressed a word yet, their eyes betrayed the unmistakable tension that ran between them, as one Summoner challenged the other's authority. The challenger was a weakling old fool, a relic of a past age whose survival, apparently, wouldn't have been possible if he had lost his current occupation, which mainly consisted in him wasting his breath for hours; at least, that was what passed in my mind. His name was Gavin, and he had fruitlessly spent his whole life by trying to supplant the High Summoner, only for him to keep failing every time. His only part in this story consisted in being the only sane man who was ultimately right all along.

The other man was a far more interesting subject: despite being clearly older than Gavin, his shoulders were still surprisingly large and straight, as if he had served as a mercenary captain for his entire life; judging from his muscles, he could have easily wielded a two-handed sword in battle even despite his age. He wore a highly decorated blue robe, further embellished by various shades of gold, violet and red: his exotic clothes were all covered in gems, and his heavy shoulder pads were entirely made of pure gold. He wore several rings at his fingers, each imbued with ancient, forgotten powers that visibly distorted the surrounding air, as well as several other decorations directly tied to his long, impeccable white beard.

But the most remarkable feature of Yu Yevon were the ever-pulsating glyphs that covered his whole body: the symbols of unknown origin that he had over his palms, his arms and his face were all tied together by thin filaments of the same color as white gold; the end result was a complex web of tribal-like tattoos, too attractive to not be fascinated with, and yet too frightful for addressing him with anything but the uttermost respect. His wise eyes, that used to be light brown like his daughter's, were now golden; they were also completely intent at staring at his would-be successor with a severe expression.

"The situation is dire, Yevon, far more than you dare admitting." Gavin began. "Despite our best efforts and sacrifices, we do not have the strength to crush our enemies in one decisive blow." he turned away his eyes from Yu Yevon, in order to address his speech directly to the underlying assemble. "Summoners of Zanarkand, you already know why: those thrice-cursed Machinas would leave us severely weakened for the next decades, if we struck now, no matter how or with what. We would win a war only to lose everything we fought it for. And for the well-being of Zanarkand, that is unacceptable."

Gavin's cheap shot must have left its mark, because not even Yu Yevon could have found the words to contradict him. He continued. "However, you are also well aware that Bevelle's High Command has proposed us a temporary truce. If we agreed to their offer, we would buy ourselves additional time to reevaluate our current situation. We could even solve our controversy through diplomatic channels, and fewer people would die. Zanarkand has much to gain by agreeing to their ceasefire."

Off course, Yu Yevon wasn't going to let such an act of defiance go unpunished. "As Zanarkand's High Summoner it is my opinion, Summoner Gavin," with a particular emphasis on Summoner. "that accepting Bevelle's offer of a ceasefire, an explicit declaration of defeat in other words, would underline our military vulnerability to the rest of Spira, severely weakening our political influence over the continent. It would also be an insult to the memories of those who fought and died for Zanarkand, as your words seemed to imply."

Despite his straight face, I had no doubt that Yu Yevon was grinning, as the angered crowd began throwing insults at an ashamed Gavin for his apparent betrayal. Since his adversary had nothing else to add, Yu Yevon exploited this opportunity to expose his plan. "With their sacrifice in mind, I began wondering what they stood for, what we stand for, and I came to a simple conclusion: we are Summoners; if we are to win, we must fight Bevelle on our own terms. The greatest achievement that a magician can ever hope to accomplish is summoning an Aeon. Through a collective effort we can create the greatest Aeon in Spira's history."

At this point it was already clear who had won the argument. "I had already devised a powerful spell well ahead of time, in case something similar happened. Mount Gagazet would be our best bet regarding the place where we should perform our summoning: Machinas would break under such extreme temperatures, and I have yet to see a man survive the icy winds without magic. Summoning an Aeon is an unusual mean to achieve victory, that is true, but desperate times call for desperate measures."

A girl with a pigtail boldly asked him a question: "But Lord Yevon, what is an Aeon? How can it help us winning the war?" "My apologies, Lady Ralaya." Yu Yevon was well aware that addressing to someone by his name was just the first step to earn his respect, and could remember the names of each and every Summoner in a chamber designed to hold hundreds of people; no, I don't know how on Spira could he do that. "I had forgotten that our youngest Summoners might not be familiar with such a word of power. I shall explain at once."

Once again, Yu Yevon had just managed to gather considerable support for his plan even before illustrating it. Through his magic, he switched off all the chamber's lights with an elegant gesture, and the room descended into almost complete darkness. He then began drawing a complex series of symbols and diagrams in the air with his finger, each of them glowing with a different color to be easily distinguished from the others. He highlighted the silhouette of a monster, a weird cross between a shark and a whale that also had wings, filling its volume with gray matter in order to give a skin to said monster. He then used his magic to give life to the inanimate matter, creating a live reproduction of that ugly thingy. To add more weight to his words, Yu Yevon also let his Aeon free to fly around into the room, and several people, Ralaya included, watched it in awe as his miniaturised toy showed off itself to the participating.

It then concentrated its attention on Gavin, shooting what appeared to be dozens of small plasma balls at him. "What the hell are you doing, Yu Yevon?!" he protested, as he awkwardly casted a quick spell to protect himself from the incoming bullets. "There's no need to be worried, Gavin. It is completely harmless." Yu Yevon explained to an extremely embarrassed Summoner, who had just managed to make a fool of himself in front of hundreds of people. "I can assure you, though, that the real one will be bigger and better and badder." A chorus of derision exploded as Gavin, livid from anger and unwilling to be humiliated even further, pulled back his objections and lowered his platform.

Yu Yevon nodded in agreement at his only wise decision, before continuing. "An Aeon is a powerful fiend controlled by a Summoner. Unlike common monsters, Aeon are not created by the resentful spirits of those who have died and were never sent to the Farplane: becoming an Aeon is a volunteer process, and is always reversible. To exist, an Aeon needs a core, known as a Fayth, that is a person who willingly gave his life to empower the Aeon itself. Said person is magically sealed in stone, and will never wither or die as long as the enchantment is active." Dramatic pause. The mini-Aeon had already forgotten about Gavin, and was now focusing its attention on the reproduction of a city I had never seen before; this time its weapons were causing a lot of damage to the small buildings that composed it, and several of those that had taken fire loudly exploded like fireworks. Surely Yu Yevon knew how to gather everyone's attention.

"A single man, no matter how powerful his link to the Summoner is, will not be a strong enough Fayth. But think of this: what if an entire city were sacrificed to create our Aeon? Surely it would crush Bevelle's army without difficulty. I said Bevelle's army? What about the city of Bevelle? Our Aeon could burn their miserable city to the ground without even breaking a sweat!" A huge wave of clapping followed his words, as the Summoners of Zanarkand enthusiastically approved his plan in unison.

"Thank you. Thank you. Unfortunately, I am fully aware that the war against Bevelle won't be a matter of hours, in fact it could take several weeks to end. I do not wish my fellow citizens to be imprisoned in stone for so long." With a single gesture the Aeon and the burning city disappeared, both displaced by a complex diagram composed of two concentric circles. Thousands of stylised, surprisingly cute little men and women were arranged between the inner and the outer circles, and they greeted their viewers with their small hands.

"That is why, to preserve a limited amount of individual freedom, I've decided to create a faithful reproduction of Zanarkand far away from any known land, where each of you will be able to shape himself into a new, although temporary, form of life. This extracorporeal experience is very similar to a dream, everything that happens will eventually end when you'll awaken." The same little men were now busy with various activities in a miniaturised Zanarkand: some of them were hanging around with their friends, others were establishing a relationship with the girl or the boy they loved, a few were playing a tense blitzball match in our stadium. Although unaware of their fleetingness, they seemed happy with their precarious lives.

"The Fayth shall empower both our new weapon and our Dream Zanarkand, and both will disappear when the enchantment is broken, right after Bevelle will be no more." A third gesture and the lives of the mini-Zanarkandians were suddenly shattered, as if they had never existed. But they have never existed in the first place, have you forgotten? What will happen to those who we create, when this will be over? Will they suffer in their...death? Only now doYevon's plan appear to me under a new light, for I have realised the implicit cruelty behind his Dream Zanarkand. And to think I was among those who were nearly venerating him by that point!

It was time for him to permanently seal his whole plan: "Sons and daughters of Zanarkand! You honour me with your trust. Leading our Aeon against our hatred enemies is a strenuous task, I won't deny it, that I shall accomplish to the best of my ability. Know this: when we came here, with sorrow in our hearts, we thought we had already lost this war. But today, more than ever, victory. Is. At hand!"