A/N: The first interlude. For each of these, do bear in mind that the perspective will not necessarily be from Tidus' point of view, nor will it always be in the first person. They will, for the most part, be shorter than a standard chapter, but I feel them vital to the story, particularly if you wish to truly understand all sides of it, rather than just Tidus'. Therefore, I recommend you read them.

It's about time this story got an antagonist.

Disclaimer: I do not own FFX or X-2.

Mistake

Interlude I: Exodus

They had waited so long. Patient, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

They hadn't always been this way. They were young, crass, and ill-disciplined. They were erratic, and they were ineffective. Their own shortcomings had landed them in this position. Over time, however, their will had tempered. Their skills had been honed to a single function. Their purpose had become clear.

Once they broke free, they would get their vengeance. The overworld dwellers would know fear, and they would know pain. They would overrun them, and they will retake their rightful place.

Every one of them knew this, for every one of them was one and the same. They had, in their isolation, become of one mind. Their circumstances had forced them to adapt, and now they had become the most formidable bringers of death in all of the world.

They stirred, sensing a change in the stream above them. A chink in the armour holding them in place had given them hope, and they now had a chance to unleash the plan that had been millennia in the making. The hate of the ages would bear down upon those with short memories, and they would ride again.

They had launched a couple of light skirmishes against their shell, testing the waters, so to speak. They had found the shell in a weakened state, as if it were being drained by a storm on the other side. They had little doubt as to the cause of this.

They had sensed the boy, passing through above them. This was not the first time they had sensed someone above, but they would usually only last a second as their soul passed from life to death. This boy, however, he stayed. They felt is anger, his hatred, and, most of all, his thirst. And so they used every power reserve their had to force their own brand of magick through the armour and to the boy. They planted ideas, suggestions, and encouragements, all things to ensure he would continue to weaken the shell.

The boy was effective. His selfish desire to satisfy his own desire for revenge would be the downfall of his race. Fitting, for these human traits are the very cause for their confinement. They can be either strengths or weaknesses, depending on ones' perspective.

The boy used his toy to create tears in the membrane confining them. As soon as these tears had formed, they launched a coordinated strike against the barrier. In its weakened state, it could not hold them for long, finally buckling under the pressure. Spent, they had to rest before pushing toward the tears, toward freedom.

They sensed a number of presences outside. From the aura they could feel, there were fayth there. But, with the fayth, they sensed another presence. Not quite alive, and not quite dead. Intrigued, they reached out lightly with their senses, getting the briefest glimpse of a boy similar to that which they had used before they were heavily rebuffed by a swift stroke from the fayth.

But they had marked the other boy. They would know him when they found him. He was so very different from the others.

Some time later, their energy had returned, and with it their onslaught. The tears, though forming, had not reached the size necessary for their passage. They would continue, until they broke through. It was their only option.

An indeterminate time later, they felt the membrane finally give way. Its destruction was accompanied by a rush of energy, of colours and lights and souls, and they greedily drank all they could. They were revitalised by it, as they took their fill after so many millennia.

They took stock of their surroundings. There were warped colours flowing all around them, bending through impossible angles and rushing into the hole they had just left. They pushed forward, towards where they knew the only thing standing in the way of their salvation lay. They sensed the farplane, in all its terrible glory, and they salivated.

They had finally achieved what they had waited for.

They had made the impossible possible.

They were through.