XI
Sins of the Father
Down in a cosy sideroom in the basement of Guadosalam, Jyscal and the three pilgrims continued down the road of frivolous small talk without really getting anywhere; though none were concerned about the lack of progress because the Guado hospitality was pleasantly distracting. Braska curled his fingers around the teacup in his hands and raised it to his mouth, so that the herbal vapours could waft into his nose. He took a polite sip and replaced the cup on its saucer on the table before him. Jecht's brew was mixed in with a generous splash of Guado brandy. Jyscal too had tea, but had not touched it since Tromell's gnarled hands had brought it on a rattling tray. Instead, he had been occupied with reliving the tale of how his race came to the wisdom of Yevon's teachings.
Long before he was the leader of the Guado, he had become ambushed by fiends on the Djose Highroad and was in a grave situation, until he was saved by Maester Zane. His Grace was rumoured to be the last living relative of Lord Zaon, husband to Lady Yunalesca. Jyscal saw him in Zane, even down to his strong armour and billowing robe. The Guado swore he saw the white light of Yevon that evening and vowed to bring that light to the Guado.
For the last five or ten minutes though, Jyscal had sat back in his reclining chair with his fingers steepled, listening and intrigued by the lives and tales of his two guests.
"You hold your son in such high regard, Jecht." he observed. "It sounds like he is truly the apple of your eye."
"Yeah, I guess he is."
"You are lucky indeed." Jyscal's heart visibly sank. "I too have a son… He is in exile. Banish'd, at my own hand."
"Yeah, I heard about that." Jecht carried an unsympathetic tone. "I heard you chose Yevon over your family. Neat."
"Jecht." said Auron tersely.
"No, no." Jyscal insisted, gesturing to the guardian. "You are correct, Jecht. I did indeed choose the priesthood over my family. If I could turn back the clock with the pain and guilt I have experienced since, I would have fled with my loved ones… left Yevon and its people to someone else. But I love Yevon and His people.
"I spent many nights locked in Guado manor, locked here in my chambers. Many tears I shed in the knowledge that I would have to banish my wife and six year old son. Maybe I looked at the robes in the mirror and my lust for power took me over the edge."
He stared into oblivion, stroking his beard, satisfied now that he could get it off his chest. "To this day, I curse myself for trying to bring a human into the Guado tribe. We are a selfish race -pig-ignorant and stubborn- yet I in my infinite arrogance and short-sightedness, tried to change a culture of many centuries. Though we are Yevon, the history books still stack highly against the name of the Guado. And I literally forced a relationship between us and man.
"You know what it means Braska, don't you? In a genuine attempt to learn more about the Al Bhed, you fell in love with one of them and were mercilessly discarded by Yevon. This is what the life of a Yevon exemplar entails. Ignore one's own feelings and desires, and do the 'right' thing. Those who veer from this path ultimately fall and fail.
"We aren't normal people, Braska. We are role models, and not allowed to have the lives we want. We have to more than just men in the eyes of Spira. My indiscretion has led to Seymour, a… a freak. He belongs to neither one race, nor the other. Where does his heritage lie? Where is his past? If only I had married a Guado woman and gave a strong Guado man to the world."
Jyscal grabbed the teacup in front of him and searched for warmth in its dark, steamy contents.
"We aren't machina, Jyscal. We cannot just ignore our feelings. The harder we try, the stronger those feelings become. I married an Al Bhed, and gave a 'Halfling' of my own to the world. If I could turn back the clock and make my choice again, I'd do exactly the same thing, a thousand times more. I loved Jenni, and I love Yuna more than the air that I breathe. I know it's strange, but that's why I left her behind. My duty isn't to Yevon: it is to her, it is to Seymour and to all the children. If we can overcome Sin for good, then the boundaries of race should pose little challenge."
Jecht eased back into his chair and sipped more from his blended tea, rather unmoved by the sentiment. He started to wonder why he was there. Then he thought about how much he had in common with the two Yevonites. Both men had a child like him, and just like him felt as though he had lost them somewhere along the way. Braska had physically teared himself away from Yuna for this pilgrimage, while Jyscal had lost the love and respect of his son through one momentous act. But while Jyscal had appeared to give up all hope of bringing back the son he once knew and loved, there was nothing to stop Braska and him to go back to their children and make things alright. The realisation struck him between regular gulps of the fiery beverage.
"So, Jyscal… you actually gonna get down to business anytime soon?"
"Ah, yes. Braska informed me you like to 'cut to the chase', as you might say. Very well. You say you are from Zanarkand. That, I'm afraid is simply not possible."
"Say what?"
"Yevon's scriptures state that Zanarkand was destroyed a thousand years ago by Sin."
Jecht stared blankly. "Well, check 'em again pal, 'cause that ain't true!"
A rock formed in his throat. He couldn't swallow, cold sweat slid down his back. His heart skipped a beat as he took himself back in time to the moment that… thing attacked the harbour and brought him to Spira. But, a thousand years into the future?
"I don't believe you, no way! I, I…"
Jyscal rise from his seat was measured and he circled around the back of his chair. "I've consulted with my herbalist, and he believes that the toxins would have killed you had you had tried to walk this far. So, as far as I am concerned, the toxin is not a factor.
"I've also conferred with Braska, whose opinion I also cherish, and he believes you are truly genuine, which leaves only two options: you are out of your mind, or you are correct."
Jecht massaged the stress twitches at the corners of his eyes. He suddenly felt… dangerous. Zanarkand's existence or potential existence must have been a serious threat to the credibility of Yevon. "Wait, wait just a second. There's another reason I'm here, isn't there? I mean, Braska could have told me that." He threw daggers at the summoner with his eyes. "He really could have told me that."
Jyscal spread his arms across the back of the chair so that he eased into a balanced, studious position. "The dead walk the Farplane. If you are from the Zanarkand that never slept from our folklore, then your wife and child will be there for you. If they don't respond to your thoughts…"
"Then Zanarkand is still out there!"
"Not necessarily. You could still be insane… But, there are many things here I don't know. So much of Spira is a mystery to our infantile population. I must concede rationally that Zanarkand could be out there, somewhere."
"Yep, yep." Jecht eased back into his chair, proudly rubbing his chest with the knuckles of his fingers. "So, what're we waitin' around here for? Farplane, here we come."
Old Guado denizens bowed and scraped at the feet of their master as he passed them, while the youngsters stood on in awe. Only here did Jecht realise the importance of this man, at least around these parts. It was as thought by showing them the 'light of Yevon', Jyscal had delivered his proud race from freefall into the darkness. With the aid of Tromell, the Guado leader made his way up the slope leading into the Farplane entrance, with the pilgrims following respectfully behind. Though he was merely in his late forties, Jyscal carried himself with the decrepitude of someone much more aged and burdened.
After moving through weaving passageways, there was more climbing to do, this time up a flight of organic steps. Jecht noticed dampness in the air, with thin waves of water sloshing across the floor as their feet disturbed it. The water faded to mist, with the angelic choir of pyreflies meandering in the air. The steps lead into and seemingly propped up a huge slanted stone wall at the pinnacle. Jecht could see a pentagon arrangement of spheres about the diameter of the average human height, all surrounding a large, shimmering portal to presumably this other place, the Farplane. The bubble glistened with all colours of the spectrum: magenta sliding off blue and green like oily water in the sun.
Jecht was cautious, though the others moved purposefully towards and through it without a thought of danger. Jecht took precise steps, dipping his fingertips into the surface and yanking them away impulsively. It rippled playfully to his touch, so he took a breath for courage and paced right in.
"Whoa…"
The Blitz star stumbled backwards in utter shock, nearly losing his footing entirely. In the void beyond their circular rocky platform was a sight that would remain with Jecht for the rest of his days. Waterfalls enclosed them from all directions but dead ahead, where fragmented land eased into a calm, silvery ocean. The raging cascades flowed endlessly into depths that Jecht couldn't, nor had the bravery to observe. Trees clung on at impossible angles, luscious green blooms thriving in the raging falls. In the middle of this, right in front of them was a field of flowers. It was truly beautiful; Jecht was not ashamed to admit that to himself. There were lilies, violets, roses, dandelions and many more that he could not name. From the flowers rose more pyreflies, swimming and singing in that mesmeric, ghostly manner.
Spiralling up from the ocean were several cyclones of spinning water. Any summoner would tell you that this was a common phenomenon that signalled a Fayth was being addressed. The Fayth, pyreflies and water all had an intrinsic link. Maybe the Fayth travelled most naturally from the Farplane through these columns of water, emerging topside through the sealed statues inside each Fayth Chamber, though that was and could only ever be, speculation.
The darkening sky was smeared with on orange burning fire at the end of dusk -though there was no true sense of time here- and a black hole moon loomed, thick smog clouds not enough the smother the cindering blue glare.
"Is this place even real?"
"Ah, who knows?" Jyscal replied after much deliberation. Even the grand old Guado lord, neighbour to the dead, had no answer for this place.
Jecht felt different here, as though this place held the transaction between one state of awareness to another, life to death, drifting to the Farplane on a sea of pyreflies. He imagined that was what it felt like. Pretty much like going to sleep, all pain and sorrow ebbing away gently. Or whatever.
"Jecht, observe."
Jyscal limped towards the edge of the platform and within moments, a perfect image of his wife glimmered into reality. She just hovered there before him, like a hologram. Tromell offered the lady a proud curtsy, but she did not reciprocate. There were no words, no emotions on her face at the sight of her old servant, or indeed of her husband. It was the same tormented woman that Jecht had seen in the halls of Guado manor: a really attractive, mature brunette, with a silky blue gown that spilled down over her body. She seemed at peace here on the Farplane, though not happy as such, just neutral.
"Perty."
"My wife, Sara. Pyreflies respond to one's thoughts, that much has been ascertained. I thoroughly believe this superficial world is just the outer shell for a giant sphere beneath. The Farplane: a sphere swimming with life's essence, the pyreflies. In death, we return to the world that bore us. Here I can bring my wife back to me if I just think of her. The pyreflies do the rest."
He stood aside, beckoning Jecht to the lip of the platform with a hand. The Blitzer was still extremely unsettled by all this. Jyscal was asking him to teeter on the very edge of the fabric of reality. "It's quite safe." The Guado reaffirmed.
Jecht tottered over to within a couple of steps and took a lingering look down into the colourful abyss. "But what if I deliberately don't think of them and pretend to you that I do?"
"It won't work that way." Jyscal smiled dryly at the naivety of the outlander.
"Oh yeah, I'm thinkin' of them right now."
But nothing popped in, even when he concentrated hard with his eyes clamped shut. In an instinctive way, he wanted them to appear just so he could physically see them again, but his brains kicked in and he realised that would mean they were dead. But, they weren't dead, they were alive. They were alive!
"They're alive! Yes!"
Jecht leapt uncontrollably into the air, realigning himself when he nearly slipped. But nothing could abate his joy. "They are alive! In your face, Yevon!"
"I really think you should be quiet now, Jecht." Braska tried futily, a befuddled Jyscal and other mourners further behind.
Eventually Jecht calmed, his glee more focused now, only erupting in short bursts. He merrily strolled up to Jyscal. "Well, what do you think of that, mister Yevon?"
"Judging by the array of events I have recently witnessed, both options are still possible." The Guado replied, before turning away and leaving the Farplane with assistance from his equally bewildered attendant Tromell.
Some time later and Braska, Auron and Jecht still remained on the Farplane, watching sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, friends and lovers come and go, summoning the memory of their loved ones before moving on to pastures new. Normally, Auron would have demanded that they followed suit, but there was a serenity here to sooth even the most hardened heart. Though, the guardian hung back behind Braska and Jecht in the middle of the rock, not wishing to dig up his past.
The summoner was left enchanted by the vision of his wife as he stood overlooking the field of flowers, the luscious waterfalls and the vanilla skies. This was the first time he had seen her in three years. She was as beautiful as ever: strawberry blonde hair bobbing on her delicate shoulders, green swirling eyes beaming bright. She wore a blue denim skirt ending halfway down the shins, a zip-up beige jacket with orange flanks, and green sandals. It was just how he liked to remember her.
A grin rippled onto his face at the memory of the the arguments they had about this place. The Al Bhed believed that the pyreflies created a perfect illusion of their loved ones, a shadow, a deception. One pyrefly was no different to another once its owner passed on. Their argument was that once you died that was it, non-existence. Braska despised that thought with all his malice, not as a Yevonite but as a romantic. At the same time he of course loved Jenni too, and so his opinion since her death had eased to one of compromise, as recompense for dismissing her views in life. He liked to think that he kept Jenni alive somewhere inside his heart and if what he saw before him was a beautifully woven sham, then so be it.
'Memories are nice, but that's all they are.' Braska would not forget those words she once said to him. The Al Bhed were ruthlessly progressive like the machina they created, always looking ahead and never to the past. Those words stuck with him because of the question they posed: is it wrong to deceive yourself to be happy?
The summoner brought his voice to a whisper, not wanting his compatriots to hear. "I thought that it would be so easy, so straightforward. But now, as I finally face it and I see you again for the first time since… well, it's difficult. Just stay here with me for a while and I'll feel better, like I can go on again."
"Yep, well this beats everythin' I've seen so far, hands down!"
Jenni vanished on a cloud and in the flash of an eyelid as Jecht tactlessly barged his way past Braska's left shoulder. "When I get back, I'm gonna tell my boy all about this place." He slapped the sphere camera firmly in annoyance between his hands but couldn't get the machine to work, possibly due to some sort of interference in the local area. "Come on, c'mon, you useless piece of crap!"
Braska looked at the oblivious Jecht and envy swelled up inside him. They had been here for nearly an hour and no one had appeared to greet the Zanarkand native, not a relative or a friend cruelly snatched away from him. In this sacrosanct shrine to those who had fallen in and often before their prime, he was as carefree as a child, fiddling around with his camera. He truly did live in a world free from Sin and in this moment that angered the summoner.