"Yuna! Here's more!"
The woman snapped her head up, facing Tidus's direction. He had a man's arm slung around his shoulder, the soldier slumped against his side. Behind him stood another in only slightly better shape. She darted through the room towards them. "Set them here." There were a few cots left, and every so often one would be vacated as…
"Thank you, milady." The man managed to say through a coughing fit as Tidus helped him lay down. The summoner shushed him gently, hands moving over him as she began casting spells.
"Rest, sir. You have worked enough."
She was stiff with weariness and the cold, but hardly noticed it, the numbness long having settled in. Her long blue skirts dragged her down, soaked with blood and wretchedness and water from the storm that had started to rage halfway to Djose, hours before.
Compared to those around her, she was fine. A few nicks and bruises here and there, long since closed, nothing like the walking wounded who surrounded her. The survivors of Operation Mi-ihen, limping along the road to Djose to the temple. Not everyone could make it the whole way themselves; so Yuna, the temple, and those few able-bodied soldiers left had begun working to bring them all in, away from the disease and death of the battlefield. All of Yuna's guardians had been walking tirelessly through the rain and wind, finding stragglers on the side of the road, carrying the wounded to Yuna's care. One stayed at the temple at all times, guarding her and acting as assistant, and it seemed it was Tidus's turn.
The man was covered in rain and sweat, chest rising heavily with his breath. "How many?"
"Perhaps fifty, not much more." Yuna began to say. "We're running out of room."
"Wakka was talking about building a lean-to outside the cavern."
"I'm not sure how much good it will do with this rain." Frowning, the woman glanced down. "We could…" She bit her lip. "There is room in the temple which is not being used."
"You mean – the Trials?" Tidus, the least pious of them, even seemed surprised by her admission. But the truth was they were desperate. "But… the rules, right?"
"The people of Yevon are more important than traditions."
"I mean, yeah, it's just surprising to hear somebody say it." But he wasn't disagreeing with her – he was smiling through his exhaustion, blue eyes bright. Yuna met his gaze and felt her cheeks redden.
They took their idea to the temple priests who, unsurprisingly, were not thrilled. "And risk angering the aeon? Angering Yevon?"
"Otherwise we risk letting these people die!"
"They are heathens! They defied the teachings!"
"So, what, they deserve to sit out in the cold and freeze to death?" Tidus spat angrily, color rising in his face. "Come on, most of these people are so out of it they won't even remember it anyway."
Yuna, listening to their debate, nodded to herself. "I will go and speak to the aeon."
"What?"
Lifting her head, she nodded. "I shall pray to the aeon for guidance, and for permission to use the Trials to house more of the injured. Perhaps with the aeon's blessing, you will allow us to do so?"
The priest, taken aback, blustered. "Well, I, um,"
"Then it is settled." Smiling, Yuna stepped past him.
"Yuna!"
Tidus was chasing after her. "You can't face the trials and the aeon alone."
"I must." She turned to him. "You know a little of my magic, your time will be better served helping the wounded here. Please. Help them."
His eyes examined her face, before he sighed. "Auron will have my head for this."
She smiled. "We'll keep it our secret."
The man chuckled at that. "Yeah, right. I bet his guardian senses are tingling right now."
She didn't quite understand the joke, but like many of the mysterious things about Tidus, she found it endearing anyway.
The sea…the crash of waves… the cries of seagulls on the wind… was she home, in Besaid? She could taste the salt on the air, feel the warmth of the summer sun on her skin… but it couldn't be…
Yuna opened her eyes and found herself lying on a beach. Her mind was clouded, foggy, and for a moment she struggled hard to think of where she was and what she had been doing.
The fayth.
Immediately she moved to stand, only to find it almost impossible.
"You have pushed yourself too far, my lady."
The young woman's head spun. Behind her, sauntering down the beach, was a strange figure. A man, dark skinned, tall, head covered by a cowl. Fighting to her feet, Yuna ignored her own pain and dizziness to face him. "Who are you? And where – "
"You know the answers to your questions."
Her brow furrowed. "The temple… I…"
"You entered my chamber only to collapse." The man's eyes softened as he approached, kneeling beside her. "You are at your limits, my lady."
No… shaking her head, she clenched her fists. "I will be fine. The people – my lord," bowing slightly, she continued, "Please give me leave to bring the wounded into your temple. There is a storm outside –"
"I know." He smiled sadly. "I am kin to the storms of Spira." But he slowly shook his head. "It does not matter what I say, the priests will not allow it."
"But - !"
"Yuna, hush." A hand brushed lightly over her cheek, and in its wake she felt a tingle dance over her. "We haven't much time."
Confused, the girl tried to raise a debate again, but found it hard to speak. It was hard to do so much as breathe. Her entire body ached like a sore wound, her head fuzzy and weary, eyes blurred and stinging with pain. The hand caressed her cheek again, running down her neck, to her shoulder.
"There is a way I can assist you," The man began again. "Allow me to lend you my power. Let our souls sing together, and you can take from me what you need."
Brow furrowed, she asked quietly, weakly, "Are you…?"
"You know who I am." He chuckled as her gaze darkened. "There is so much you know that you've yet to acknowledge. You will, one day. When you are stronger."
Feeling herself weaken, Yuna struggled to remain awake, to remain sitting up even as she faltered. "A – are you sure?"
Ixion only smiled. "No one would be more worthy."
And so she fell.
It was like bathing in a storm. Lightning sparked in her thighs and fled through her veins, lighting fires in their wake. The world was all darkness with flashes of light dancing through, each one a punch to the gut, a hand around her throat, almost painful in their overwhelming brilliance. This wasn't like the previous experiences with the other aeons. She'd been awake then, been forming a bond with semi-physical spirits merging with her physical form.
This was a dream, a connection between their souls. He was inside her, in the most spiritual sense, penetrating her soul to its darkest depths and shining the brightness of his light upon them. Every touch was a lightning-strike, every heartbeat a roll of thunder. She felt him, Ixion's presence in her mind, his thrumming, potent spirit cascading through her, and behind it all a tremulous, baritone laugh, building in waves upon waves.
You are a marvel.
He was pouring his energy into her, his lightning, his life, and it felt wonderful. Like pure pleasure filling her, and filling her, until she might burst, but it never ended. Eventually she felt the shadow of a figure, the almost-presence of something above her, within her, moving back and forth and back and the friction drove her mad, like her skin was catching fire. Sparks flickered between them and Ixion laughed, his transparent hands running through her hair; and yet, at the same time, she could almost swear they were running, running faster and faster with the thundering echo of hoofbeats through a dark canyon towards a distant light.
We've chosen you, Yuna. A breath of air tickled her ear and sent a spark of pleasure arching through her. We will stand beside you no matter what comes next. However it ends… let us enjoy the here and now, until then.
They lost a lot of people, that night.
Yuna tumbled out of the fayth a short while after she'd enter it, proclaiming that the fayth had given the blessing… only for the priests to outright refuse, for fear of angering Yevon. The temple was filled as much as it could be, but it wasn't enough. More took refuge in the nearby store, and as many as possible huddled beneath the stone walls outside. Lean-tos and tents were erected as could be, but the wind knocked most of the down.
After leaving the fayth, Yuna didn't rest again that night. She watched over the wounded, moving from bed to bed, healing as she went. Her guardians were never far behind. They, along with some of the healthier soldiers and some temple priests, were doing everything from preparing food to changing bedding to… to dealing with the bodies of the dead.
There were a lot of dead… and most of them froze in the rain and cold outside.
Just thinking about it afterwards put Yuna into a fury. All those deaths, so easily prevented, save for the stubbornness of those in power, and their damnable tradition. A few months ago, Yuna could not have imagined thinking those words, and yet… standing before the graves, head hung low, she could not help but feel bitter.
You did so well, child. A spark of light lit in her chest, gently and sweetly spreading through her, like a warm blanket. You did all you could and more, and that was enough.
"It could never be enough," She whispered.
Hush. Ixion whispered. Rest. Let this be enough… for tonight.
For tonight, then, she thought, stumbling drunkenly to her pallet in the temple. She didn't quite make it there; collapsing on the floor nearby, soaked in dirt and blood, sweat and the stench of death.
