Chapter 24: Unfinished Business

Shuyin awoke feeling nothing, which was strange because he was sure he was supposed to feel something after being shot so many times. He tried to look down at himself but saw nothing, not even his own body.

Light ... Everything around him was a blur of light. Or maybe he was the blur of light. He couldn't distinguish himself from his surroundings. In this state of nothingness, he accepted the fact that he was dead but remembered that he had not died alone.

"Lenne?" There was no reply. Or maybe there was, and he just couldn't hear it. If he couldn't see or feel, perhaps he couldn't hear either.

Sadness … Incredibly deep sadness filled Shuyin's soul. Where was Lenne? He had to find her.

Color ... The bits of color were followed by fuzzy shapes. His vision shifted, but nothing was clear. Was he underwater? Yes. Familiarity with underwater vision instinctively confirmed this. Then, without form, his soul rose from his physical body, and he was finally able to look down at himself. Had he been thrown into the sea like some common criminal, though all he wanted was to save a life and stop a war? As his field of vision broadened, he saw it was the same disrespect Bevelle had shown to those who fell on the battlefield.

Anger … A mass grave like this would only compound Spira's problems with fiends. Bevelle's refusal to accept Spira's new reality would only lead to more deaths. Idiots!

Unable to look at his own corpse any longer, he searched the other bodies on the ocean floor and soon found her. "Lenne?" he called for her soul to awaken.

Her beautiful hair floated around her pretty face, and she still looked at him with that same sad expression she wore when she died, but there was no reply. His memories of being alive were still fresh, so seeing her like that made him feel as if he couldn't breathe. Finally, he had to turn away. But why didn't she answer? Had her spirit abandoned him because he failed to protect her? Did she hate him now?

Despair … Shuyin now felt nothing but sadness, anger, despair, and self-loathing. He'd let everyone he cherished slip through his careless fingers. Koji was right. He was cursed and now accountable for the deaths of his mother, his best friend, and his lover. But the angrier he became at himself and the circumstances that led to their fates, the more his vision cleared.

Shuyin's spirit circled the bodies on the ocean floor and wondered how many more bodies lay on the ocean floor, stadium, and streets of Zanarkand. Discouraged, his spirit rose through the water high into the sky over the docks. There, he spotted a massive creature, followed by a wind current thick with pyreflies, flying from the grasslands battlefield straight toward him—an aeon so big its angelic wings easily spanned a quarter of the entire city. Shuyin's shock was only slightly greater than his sense of dread. This aeon didn't feel like a guardian spirit. It was an angel of death.

As it approached Bevelle, the massive aeon cast a black magic spell that shook the ground with enough force to shatter a good portion of it and bring tidal waves crashing down on the waterfront sectors. The souls that had been drawn to this aeon from the battlefield were being absorbed into it. And it fed on their anger and fear as it crushed the city that had taken their lives.

Shuyin's spirit was also drawn in, caught in the massive whirlwind from the backdraft that scattered chunks of the city to the four winds. He felt no pain from his accidental collision, but the surge of power from contact was repulsive. The malicious intent within the magical toxin that surrounded the hard shell was so tangible that, had he not already been dead, it would have suffocated him. But unlike the other souls trailing the aeon, Shuyin struggled to break away. As much as he wanted revenge on Bevelle, he couldn't let himself become part of that monster. He had to find Lenne!

When the angry beast finally tucked its wings away and dove into the ocean, sending one final tidal wave over the city to wash away the broken remains, Shuyin's spirit fell.

Dizzy ... Reality swam in confusion for a moment. Then, he was alone again. The other souls, possessed by the spirit's rage, had followed it into the water. Though he knew the aeon's massive body was nothing but a magical illusion, the hatred radiating from within that toxin felt very real. It lingered, leaving him disoriented for a moment before he remembered who he was and what he was doing. An aeon that strong could only have been summoned by Yu Yevon to punish Bevelle for what it did to Zanarkand.

"Zanarkand ..." Shuyin decided Lenne might have returned home, so his restless spirit left the vicinity to search for her there.

))((

Thousands of spheres bobbed on the ocean waves below. Among them were the newly collected recordings that had not survived transport from the underground cameras to the review office. Now they floated on the sea among the rest of the debris to be scattered to unknown destinations.

One sphere contained the image of a sad young woman confined in a cage. At the sound of a young man's voice on an unseen speaker, the young woman sought frantically to find the source of his communication. She warned him not to do anything stupid, but he promised to get her out. That promise was sincere, regardless of circumstance. Lenne's spirit settled within the sphere, and though she couldn't see him, she took comfort in hearing his voice that played within. Sad and lonely, she chose to stay right here with her memories of him ... forever.

))((

Bahamut, in his aeon form, obediently followed Lady Yunalesca and Lord Zaon across the war-torn battlefield. The boy within the dragon felt his heart plummet at the sight of all the pyreflies flying toward Bevelle behind Yevon's aeon, but many still lingered close to the ground. Two entire armies had been destroyed here. This land would forever be scarred with their suffering.

Half-way across the battlefield, Yunalesca came to a stop.

Zaon removed his helm and looked at his wife with concern. "Something troubles you."

"I can't stand it anymore," she whispered to her husband. "Thousands of souls crying out—too many to cleanse completely. Can't you feel it? I must do something for the ones who wish to rest." Absorbing the deep sadness of the lost and lingering souls, she faced her aeon. "Bahamut, if you remain present for the sending, you will be dismissed, and I may not have the energy to call you back when I am done here. Fly ahead of us to Bevelle and wait for us there."

The aeon leaped into the air and hovered for a moment as his summoner began her sending dance. But then he flew toward the city without her. He gave this consideration because it meant her sending spell could dismiss him, but it couldn't send him to the Farplane. It was probably because his soul was sealed as a Fayth. Something stronger than a sending spell would be needed to crack the magic of that seal, or his aeon could, theoretically, live forever—a fact that felt more disturbing than reassuring.

On his way into Bevelle, Bahamut saw a swarm of pyreflies racing toward the battlefield—more souls trying to reach the Farplane portal that Yunalesca was opening. But as he passed the cliffs and continued his flight, he inwardly gasped. Yevon's aeon was nowhere in sight, yet it had already razed large portions of the city to the ground. Other sections of Bevelle had disappeared beneath the floods. Bevelle looked almost like Zanarkand now. The temple was left standing, and survivors were already fleeing there for healing and protection, but the city was in shambled chaos. But the temple had shut its doors. How could they turn their backs on people in need like that? The black dragon wanted to knock down the doors to let the people in, but he had not been given that command. Instead, he flew to the high bridge and perched where he could watch the road far below, compelled to obediently await his summoner. "Lady Yunalesca ... hurry!"

))((

Shuyin's soul was among those fleeing from Bevelle. He recognized the black dragon that once guarded the ronso village and saw Yunalesca creating a path to the spirit plane below, but he refused to go—not yet, not without Lenne. With so many souls clustering near the portal, it was relatively easy for one stubborn soul to skirt the outer circumference of the portal. Shuyin's fortified spirit resisted the distant pull of the Farplane and flew toward the mountain pass. If both Yunalesca and the guardian dragon were leaving the ronso village, where were the refugees?

))((

When Yunalesca closed the portal, she dropped to her knees in exhaustion. Zaon helped her stand once more. After a moment of rest, he escorted her the rest of the way across the battlefield to the road leading to Bevelle. When they finally arrived in the city, Yunalesca and Zaon were both stunned at the extent of her father's destructive magic. The catastrophic sight evoked a familiar, overwhelming sense of loss, even though this city was responsible for what happened to them. But, after a moment, Yunalesca tightened her grip on the terms of surrender and moved on.

After pushing their way through the flooded and fallen debris into the growing crowd of frightened and injured people, Yunalesca and Zaon met no resistance approaching the temple. Bahamut soared down from the spire to join them, but no armed squads ran forward to banish him. And though the warrior monks attempting to keep the crowd under control aimed their guns at her, none dared to actually fire upon the daughter of Zanarkand's high summoner without the command to do so.

Bahamut hit the doors, forcing them open for the small summoner and her guardian, then his hulking form filled the large doorway behind them as they entered. Folding his arms at his chest, he stood his full height on his hind legs and glared threateningly at the unprepared guards and priests who were shocked to at Yunalesca's arrival.

"I wish to see Maester Renuta." Her commanding presence brought the great hall to a grinding halt.

"Maester Renuta is busy with emergency matters," one of the summoners informed her, with reservation.

"I will see him now!" Her voice echoed throughout the temple chambers. "Or this temple will go down with the rest of this city!"

There was a flurry of voices and whispers, and someone ran to the back of the temple. A few minutes later, Maester Renuta came through the anxious gathering of officials and guards. His robes rustled with an unhurried stride, and his lips pressed together in defiance of her urgency. "You wished to see me, Lady Yunalesca?" He greeted her as if nothing were amiss. "As you can see, my hands are quite full with disaster relief. So I request that you keep this visit short and to the point."

"Perhaps it would help if you opened your doors. The disaster is out there, not in here." Her eyes narrowed on the man, studying his pale, hawkish features as if he were a bloated corpse she wished she could send. "Zanarkand was destroyed in an unprovoked attack by Bevelle's warships!" she spoke loudly for all to hear. "I have since learned that our own temple was responsible, so I assume this stems from our difference of opinion on the matter of summoning aeons. You accuse us of human sacrifice to appease the Founders, yet you have murdered countless innocents for them. Our Fayth serve proudly knowing they are doing all they can to protect the living. Your victims will know only bitter despair, and it will eat away at them, causing them to seek revenge. What has happened here today is the result of your sins against Lord Yevon and the people of Zanarkand! That creature out there is the voice of every soul you have wronged. It is your punishment—your sin incarnate! You created that monster!" She gave that accusation a moment to sink in.

"Traitors! All of you! I reclaim this temple in the name of Yevon—the man who taught you ingrates everything you know about white magic and the summoning arts! How dare you betray him like this!" Yunalesca stepped closer to Renuta, then she shoved the document her father drafted into the maester's chest. Though she lowered her volume, her tone remained firm. "I am the only one who can create another aeon of equal strength to take down the one that destroyed your city. But I will not do so until my father's terms of surrender have been met. No restrictions on magic. No more machina. And no ... more ... Founders. Spira belongs to those who live here now, not those who created her long ago and far away."

Sweating, Renuta looked at his warrior monks. One command could have her arrested and imprisoned or executed, but Renuta was weighing the truth of her words. Arresting their only defense against the monstrosity that had destroyed Bevelle wouldn't be prudent.

"Yevon has gone too far this time." He spoke in anger but took the document. "That swollen, unnatural beast was called from beyond the grave to destroy the living. This destruction is Yevon's doing – not ours."

"This war was your doing. You sent most of our men and women to their graves. The rest died to make sure this never happens again. Bevelle will surrender to my father's terms, or Your Sin will avenge Zanarkand again ... and again ... and again," she ended her threat with a whisper.

))((

As Shuyin's spirit fled toward Mt. Gagazet, he wondered if Zen escaped Bevelle's dungeons, or if he, too, had been captured and executed. He had not seen a ronso body among those on the ocean floor. So he decided to stop at the ronso village, which seemed to be in mourning. Passing through the covering over Zen's door, he saw that his friend was alive and well, but looked angry and sad. "Zen ..." Though he heard his own thoughts, he had no tongue to speak them.

Form … Shuyin tried reaching toward his friend, and for the first time since awakening, he was able to see his own ghostly hand.

The ronso looked up from his fire pit at the strange appearance of pyreflies gathering near him. Pyreflies meant only two things—magic and fiends. Zen snatched his lance. "Show yourself!"

"Zen, wait! It's me!"

The ronso watched as the pyreflies coalesced into a glowing outline, but they didn't assume the typical shape of a fiend. As the fogginess became more distinct, he could see that this spirit was still human.

Voice … "Please ..." Shuyin could hear himself speak. "Please, tell me you've seen Lenne."

"Shuyin?" The ronso was uneasy and unsure of what to do. Slowly, he shook his head. "Lenne died with Shuyin. Little brother now Fayth." He hung his head in shame, and a rare tear slid from his cat-like eyes down his furry, blue cheek. "Zen could not protect friends. Not even smallest one."

Shuyin's face twisted with disbelief and grief. "What? Bahamut …"

"Lord Yevon and Lady Yunalesca turned Bahamut and Zanarkand tribe into Fayth. Elder Kinan say Fayth Scar makes Gagazet sacred mountain. New aeon from Zanarkand destroyed Bevelle army."

"Then … the refugees … "

Zen shook his head.

Shuyin considered what he had learned so far about the creation of a Fayth, and the same morbid fear that crept over him concerning Lenne now returned to him concerning her brother and the refugees. That aeon that collided with him and destroyed Bevelle … Shuyin's ghostly form clenched its fists and teeth before turning and racing through the door flap, where his pyreflies fell apart and faded.

))((

Maester Renuta refused to accept the terms of surrender, but a majority within the temple disagreed with him. After a brief scuffle with Bahamut, Renuta and his supporters were taken to the dungeons. Then, Yunalesca sent summoners outside to help with direct relief efforts, while she rounded up rosters of anyone left that would support Yevon's uncensored teachings.

When Yunalesca had the temple back under control enough to dismiss her aeon, Bahamut vanished from the temple and rose from his tomb in the cavern in the mountain. It would probably be a while before the ronso could move his body to Bevelle, so the boy's spirit wandered out onto the pass near the Fayth Scar overlooking the Zanarkand ruins. He still felt responsible for these people he had been told to protect. Facing the ocean under the moonlight, he saw Sin swimming near the city, looking as if it were trying to seek solace among the remains. Except for the pyreflies, however, Zanarkand was dark, cold, and dead as the night. After a few minutes, like a predator lurking in the shadows to avoid being seen, the aeon dove beneath the surface to rest.

A few minutes later, distant human voices drew Bahamut's attention toward the dark mountain pass behind him. A pair of Bevelle scouts with lanterns were coming toward him. They must have skirted the ronso village using air transport. Not seeing him, they passed right through his body. But they immediately spotted the bodies trapped in the magical seals embedded in the mountain wall.

"What, in the name of everything unholy, is that?" one asked the other, his fear at the grotesque sight written all over his face. "That's not our army, is it?"

"My guess is it's the last of Zanarkand's survivors. And it's literally oozing with magic, so it looks like the high summoner himself did this to them." The other guard shook his head, uneasy with the discovery. "Destroyed his own city just to take a shot at us. Typical of Yu Yevon's arrogance."

In a rare fit of anger, Bahamut flew at them with his fists. "You're the ones that destroyed our city! You did it! All of you!" However, he stumbled and passed right through them, unable to make physical contact.

"It's pointless to fight them. They can't see or hear you," a feminine voice nearby spoke.

But the fact that someone had spoken to him meant someone could see and hear him. Bahamut turned to see a young woman sitting on a rock a short distance down the path toward the ruins. He wondered why he hadn't noticed her before, but the scouts didn't seem to see her, either.

The scouts used a memory sphere to record their discovery of the wall, then passed by the twisted bodies to head toward Zanarkand and record it, too. "This place gives me the creeps. There's nothing left of our army, and that's all we can say about it. There's not a spare part left anywhere."

Bahamut waited until their voices trailed away further down the path toward the ruins before he drew near to the spirit of the young woman to see her better in the dark. "Kaila?" He had met her only a couple of times while Lenne was dating Koji, so he was surprised to see her now. "Are you …?"

"Dead? Apparently so. I was among the survivors in the caverns—the survivors turned into Zanarkand's Fayth."

"I didn't see you in the caverns. I was in there, too … until I was turned into a Fayth to guard them." Bahamut saddened. "I tried to stop him. I tried to wake everyone up, but no one heard me."

"Only a summoner can break through the spell that surrounds a Fayth." Kaila turned her chin to face the young boy. "You should know that. You've studied summoning more than the rest of us."

Yes, he knew the conditions for praying to a Fayth. "It's just hard to remember I'm ..."

"I know," she sympathetically agreed. Kaila turned her gaze back toward the city.

"What are you doing out here?"

"I wanted to see the real ruins again. I have a hard time believing everything's gone."

"With Zanarkand gone, there won't be many summoners to call on us."

Kaila sighed. "I don't think Lord Yevon meant for anyone else to summon us. He summoned us to transform himself within our seal. And now he summons us to sleep … to dream … to remember the city before it was destroyed."

"Lady Yunalesca summons me as an aeon. She wants to take me to Bevelle." Bahamut sat down beside her on the rock and looked longingly toward the ruins. He couldn't believe how dismal the place looked now, despite the sparkling magic in the fog that surrounded the city. "It looks like it's been dead for a thousand years already."

"Ah, but that's because you're looking at it through reality. Close your eyes and remember."

Bahamut closed his eyes and saw Zanarkand as it was once more. When he opened them again, that's exactly how it appeared to be. It was as if he had brought the entire city back to life just by wishing it.

Kaila smiled at his astonished expression. "It's beautiful, isn't it? I'm not sure how it works, but I think it comforts Lord Yevon to know Zanarkand is still alive in some way. Now it really is the 'City That Never Sleeps.'"

The boy was awed by how real it looked. "The sleep spell cast on the Fayth must work like the water of Lake Macalania. Memories preserved in particles of magic become an illusion."

"I guess that would explain the gaps. I went through it before coming here and noticed a few things that seemed … off."

"You went in there?"

"It only took a few minutes. It's not like I have to walk or wait for the transport schedule anymore. The illusion itself is very convincing because of the abundance of magic here. But not everyone who lived in Zanarkand died as a Fayth. Those who died by normal means and crossed over to the Farplane, or remain unsent ... we don't have their memories to fill in the gaps. So, there are places where you can tell it's just a stage prop. There's nothing real behind it. The people are like actors with a pre-written script. Somehow Yevon's spell unifies it, though. It's like one big database."

"What if we don't want to share our memories like that?"

"Well, you were created for a different purpose, so I don't know how it is for you. But the rest of us don't have a choice. Yevon summons us to sleep, dream, and remember. Then, he uses our memories to reconstruct Zanarkand. But you know what I discovered?" She giggled behind her hand in a somewhat guilty manner. "I can alter bad memories by imagining them differently."

Bahamut's eyes popped wide open. "You can change the past?"

"Well, no. Nothing we do in our dreams affects reality. It is, after all, just a dream. But remembering things differently can alter Dream Zanarkand. It's really cool. Would you like to see?"

He wasn't sure he wanted to. The memories of his lost loved ones were still too fresh in mind. If he were to see them walking down recreated streets, it might hurt too much. Closing his eyes, he let the vision leave his imagination. When he opened them again, the desolation of the real Zanarkand stood before him once more. He preferred it that way for some reason. Perhaps she did, too, or she wouldn't be here, outside of the Dream.

Kaila blinked to return her vision to normal, too. But looking past his shoulder toward the mountain pass, she blinked again with surprise. "Oh my gosh! Is that Shuyin?" She hopped down from her rock.

Prompted by the mention of the name, Bahamut stared at the ghostly figure coming down the path toward them. "Shuyin!" With a big grin, the boy jumped off the rock and ran to meet him. To his surprise, the guardian was tangible enough for the boy to grab his hand. Then he remembered from his magic lessons how pyreflies stick to one another to create magic in the first place. "Shuyin! Are you a Fayth, too?"

"No," Shuyin growled. Glancing down at the boy, and then to Kaila, he strode past them to see the mural of twisted bodies fused into the mountain wall by streams of magic. "So, it's true. Zen told me everyone had been turned into a Fayth."

Kaila drew near but seemed to be resisting the urge to give him a hug. "It was the only way to save what was left of Zanarkand."

"Shuyin! My aeon form! It's a dragon! A really, really big black dragon!" The boy beamed with pride.

The blitzball player grabbed the boy's shoulders and gave him a shake. "How could you let them do that to you! How could you blindly go along whatever they said without questioning anything!"

Bahamut stepped back from the scolding. The guardian was apparently still just as angry as when he last saw him alive, going to Bevelle to free Lenne. The fact that he was here like this could only mean the mission had not been successful. The boy wanted to ask what had happened to his sister, but now he was afraid of the answer. "I wanted to help. Just like you wanted to help Lenne."

The comparison struck a painful chord in the blitzball player. Releasing the boy, he turned away from them and stared at the cold, lifeless bodies within the gruesome collage. "Then, we both failed."

Bahamut shared Shuyin's sadness. "We can still help people this way ... when we're summoned."

Kaila was wary. "Shuyin, if you're not a Fayth, then ..."

"Then what?" His gaze hardened on her.

Unsent … No one dared to say it because Shuyin clearly didn't want to talk about his own dark existence, clinging to life beyond death by sheer rebellion.

"At least I'm not enslaved to a summoning spell. I knew that bastard was leaving the city wide-open by sending us out there to die, but I never guessed he'd be the one to strike the killing blow. How could he do this to his own people? I knew he couldn't be trusted! This is why I asked Lenne to stay away from Bevelle. And now, I can't … I can't ..." Despair and pain replaced the anger in his expression. Running his fingers through his hair, he turned away, unable to face them or the wall anymore.

"You can't find her?" Kaila guessed, worried about him.

Shuyin lifted his chin to stare at the ghostly ruins through angry tears. "Some guardian I turned out to be."

"Maybe Lenne went to the Farplane," she softly suggested.

Shuyin froze, then faced her again. "Is that some kind of sick joke? I'm not going to the Farplane. I won't rest until I find her and the people who did this to her. To us—all of us!" Turning away, he jogged down the path toward Zanarkand once more.

"Shu?" Kaila started to follow, but the boy at her side caught her hand to stop her.

"Let him go. Something's … not right. He's got twice the amount of pyreflies we do." Bahamut felt a tremendous sense of loss in watching Shuyin leave. The blitzball player had returned to them, but he wasn't their sunny, fun-loving Shuyin anymore. How had his heart become tainted with such dark emotions? Bahamut suspected it wasn't just the fact that Shuyin was unsent. There was an aura about his friend now that truly frightened him.

))((

Shuyin headed down the road into Zanarkand but paused to take stock of the transformed, faded ruins. What was the point of trying to protect anyone or anything if it could be so easily destroyed like this? Lenne had believed in him, and he had given his best. But his best wasn't good enough. It wasn't fair. But life isn't fair, is it?

If he couldn't protect her from harm, he at least wanted to be with her. The thought of being without her, forever … He couldn't face forever without her.

"Lenne?" he called out as he jogged into the empty city. "Lenne!"

At the temple, the door was shut. Shuyin started to open it with force, but his hands passed through the handles. Drawing an uneasy breath, he walked through the structure barring his entrance and down the darkened great hall beyond it, absorbing more pyreflies as he went. "Lenne!" he cried. "Please come back to me! I'll put things right, I swear! I'll make them pay for what they did! I'll make them all pay!" He thrust a tapestry drape blocking his path out of his way, and this time, it moved as if a stiff breeze blew through the ruins.

The two scouts from Bevelle looked up as Shuyin entered the second chamber. They had heard him shouting and were prepared to take on an angry Zanarkand refugee. But when he came into view, and they saw how transparent he was, they immediately raised their guns. "Fiend!"

Shuyin had no time to process the threat before bullets tore through his chest again. Closing his eyes, he expected to feel the familiar pain of death. But this time, he felt nothing. A few pyreflies fluttered away, nothing more. He looked down at himself, stunned for a moment, but then looked back at the men who had tried to kill him. As his scowl darkened, both gunmen realized the difference between a fiend and a ghost is that material weapons can't kill spirits that haven't fully materialized yet.

The blitzball player charged the man that called him a fiend. Instead of being able to grab onto him, however, he found himself inside of him. The man cried out in protest and grasped his head, but Shuyin hung on tenaciously. Using borrowed hands, Shuyin raised the gun toward the scout's partner and fired it. The other scout stared in shock at the friend who shot him, then fell dead at Shuyin's feet.

Shuyin felt no remorse whatsoever. This man had tried to kill him. Now, he had one less Bevelle loyalist to deal with. Looking down at his hands, the hands of a stranger, Shuyin didn't know how he gained this kind of magic, but he realized what he was capable of doing with it.

))((

A few days later, a tall, broad-shouldered man with tanned skin, light brown eyes, and auburn hair entered the Bevelle temple and went straight to Maester Renuta's office door. "My name is Tsuran. I've returned from Zanarkand, and I'm ready to debrief on the army's disappearance. Maester Renuta should be expecting me."

"Oh, you must have left before Lady Yunalesca arrested him," the summoner outside of the office told him. "He's awaiting execution for treason. You should report to Lady Yunalesca if you have any Zanarkand information. She has taken over temple operations to appoint an entirely new, ordained staff to get us back on track with the teachings of Yevon." The summoner looked worried. "She says it's the only way to prevent that ... that ... thing ... from coming back."

Tsuran decided Yunalesca could wait. "Then, can you tell me where to find some kind of roster for the names of the guards responsible for the execution of the summoner and blitzball player from Zanarkand? The ones shot near Vegnagun."

"Well, we didn't really have a roster for that execution because it happened after they tried to escape. However, the report on file in the maester's office probably has a list of witnesses. Did they actually do something to Vegnagun?"

"Not yet." Tsuran offered a curt smile of gratitude. "I'll need that report to discuss their executions with Lady Yunalesca. She won't be happy to hear that one of her summoners was gunned down in cold blood by her own monks." When the summoner stepped aside with uncertainty, Tsuran went into the maester's office and scrounged around in the files until he found what he was looking for. Then, he let himself out of the office and addressed the summoner one more time. "Does your speaker system work?"

"Yes. The attack downed most of the city's utilities, but we're on back-up generators here. Most of our summoners are out taking care of the wounded within the city to keep them from coming into the temple since our situation is rather ... unorganized ... while Lady Yunalesca hunts down the rest of the traitors."

"Could you give these people a call for me, please? Tell them to come to the lower level of the temple so we can further investigate this execution. Thank you." Tsuran handed him the list of names, tipped his hat, and walked away with confidence. He didn't even wait to hear the names being read over the loudspeaker before returning to the great hall and heading for the lift.

This time, Shuyin browsed the thoughts of his host body to find out how to operate the thing, so he knew which switch would make it go in the direction he needed. This time, he knew his way through the maze of tunnels leading underground to the jails, and he knew exactly how to check a sphere monitoring station to locate and lower the prisoner he needed to see. When he found the maester's cage, he approached with the calm persona of the scout he possessed. "My report on Zanarkand is ready, Maester Renuta. Would you like to hear it?"

"Report? Do you think I give a damn about your report when I'm being confined in here?" The maester's comb-over was in disarray, and his face flushed with sweat and frustration.

"Not a lot of fun being strung up like that, is it, sir?" Tsuran smiled.

Renuta didn't know what to think of the scout's comment. "Don't take that tone with me. I'm still your superior. Where's Paomar?"

"He's dead, sir. Everyone's dead. The Bevelle army vanished without a trace. And Zanarkand is in ruins, completely drained of all life—literally. The remaining citizens gave up their souls to become Fayth so that Yevon could create the aeon that attacked this city."

Renuta was thoughtful for a moment, then he leaned close to the bars of his cage and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I can make it worth your while if you help me get out of here. I have connections with the ambassador of the Founders' headquarters up on the cliffs of Mushroom Rock Road. Just escort me there, and they'll work with you on a settlement. Eh?"

Tsuran's brows drew together, and he whispered back. "What kind of connections?"

"The ambassador of the Founders asked me to take up this position so we could fill the temple with … friendly faces."

"You mean spies."

The maester's eyes narrowed at the scout's bold correction. "We decided to rid Spira of Yu Yevon by hiding under his own wing. And it worked—beautifully—until that coeurl Yunalesca showed up with her pet monster. Ambassador Guregohe needs to be told that Bevelle was struck, and she's taken over."

"Sounds like this plan's been in progress for a while."

"Long enough." Renuta chuckled.

"Which one of you is responsible for the orders to attack Zanarkand?"

"Guregohe. I only employed Bevelle's defense forces to the task. Yevon entered the Via Infinito and tried to convince the ship's captain to flee the Founders. They cannot afford to lose control of this ship! So, they're done negotiating with the necromancers."

Tsuran's brows rose with doubt. "A whole city of necromancers? What about the fans at the blitzball tournament in the arena? Were they necromancers? What about that player we killed? Was he a necromancer, too?"

The master frowned. "He was a thief! And Vegnagun is too unstable to be tampered with, even by our own engineers."

"He was trying to help his girl escape." Tsuran came closer to the bars. "And she did nothing to deserve imprisonment or death."

"She was a necromancer! She was also Yevon's chosen Fayth for this temple," he confessed with distaste. "Yevon's aeons, his familiars, are nothing but demonic spies."

Tsuran snatched the maester's robes and jerked him forward until his face slammed against the bars. "That summoner was not a demon or a spy, you paranoid excuse for a priest."

The maester began to sweat profusely at the chilling tone and look in the scout's eyes. "She was trying to steal Vegnagun with him!"

"She was trying to talk me out of it, but you had her shot anyway!" Shuyin yelled over his host's voice.

The maester's eyes widened, and his fat jowls trembled as a single pyrefly floated away from Tsuran's wrist. He was in the grip of an unsent. "You?"

Tsuran smiled at the recognition, released Renuta's robes, and backed away. Raising the nose of his rifle between the maester's eyes, he fired, short range. Then he looked at the spheres that recorded the whole thing, before walking away without a care in the world about getting arrested.

Jogging toward the lift, Tsuran heard the alarms go off. When he reached the circuit pathways, members of the firing squad intercepted him.

"Stop! You're under arrest!"

Tsuran greeted them with bullets and pushed them over the edge to the long drop below. A few of their rounds struck him, too, but it wasn't enough to make Shuyin let go. He rode the lift back to the top and headed toward the exit.

"There! He's the one!" the summoner he spoke to earlier pointed him out.

Four warrior monks rushed Tsuran.

He ran in a mild effort to escape but knew it was futile. Tsuran was shot in the back and stumbled forward, so Shuyin's spirit rose from his host's dying body and marched toward his pursuers.

All four warrior monks stopped their tracks and gaped at the glowing figure full of pyreflies heading straight for them. "Wh-what is that?" one asked. "Is it a fiend?"

They raised their guns to shoot his sparse composition, but Shuyin had already selected his next host. The warrior monk he possessed fought to remain in control of himself for a few minutes, but then obediently ran. The others were puzzled and reluctant to shoot their own comrade, but eventually, they brought him down with a leg wound. Determined, Shuyin took a third host, until the same thing happened. There were plenty of spectators who witnessed the strange homicidal behavior of the warrior monks, but this time no one was left to stop the final host from escaping.