The waterspout spun amidst the wide sea uninterrupted and menacingly, bringing the city of Baaj entirely to a halt as bystanders stared at it with intrigue and terror. The skies were blanketed in darkness as if the sun had gone into hiding. The rain kept pouring, leaving a pungent smell to settle in the air and setting stone slabs dark grey with dampness. Birds were seen perched on walkway fences and on top of buildings but they were quiet; there were no tweeting or croaking as though they understood something was awry.
Yevon turned around and beckoned to Gul with his hand, "The gateway… it has been opened. We should be on our way now."
She advanced to him but with hesitancy in her frame and movements. As she reached the edge of the courtyard and nearing the waterspout, Yevon's conviction moulded her own. He began chanting… the same prayer hymn sung by Lenne and her songster peers but in a form remarkably bastardized that it made many gasp with shock and revulsion. The waterspout stirred, then became elongated in shape, scooping and swallowing both Yevon and Gul into its waterlogged walls within a blink of an eye.
The waterspout spun unremittingly, tossing their bodies around with chaos. Yevon could hear nothing but the sound of water bubbling and splashing. Once in a while, he would part his eyes open only to find himself still trapped within the waterspout and staring at sparks of light that made his head ache. The violent toing and froing rapidly threw him into a deep slumber…
And then he awoke.
He awoke to find himself no longer in the city of Baaj but in Zanarkand… or at least, a portion of it. Nearby, Gul had awakened too, clutching on her head with both of her hands and groaning. She scanned her surroundings dazedly. "So it is true… this is Zanarkand."
Yevon rose from the ground and helped Gul do the same. "Partly," he said.
"Partly? This is not the entire Zanarkand?"
They started strolling, passing by buildings that appeared accurately similar to ones Yevon had seen in his city, almost as though someone had plucked it from its existing place and transported it here. There were the securely fenced blue walkways and tiered megastructures floating on sea that were brimming with lights; some had waterfalls dripping at their walls, others had wide digital screens installed on them that were flashing with colourful moving pictures and messages. Other buildings were smaller and shorter but not less impressive. Yet, he recognized that the city they stood on now was not exhibiting the complete structure and splendour of his Zanarkand.
"This Zanarkand is built according to Lord Kipu's memories," Yevon elucidated. "This is the quarter where his home used to be," he went on to say before pointing to a megastructure that stood tall on a hill that elevated above the rest of the city, "And that's the Dome where he used to work as our minister of the arts until he relinquished his position to become a priest at the temple."
"You will need… more memories to build a complete Zanarkand."
"Most certainly."
"I'm glad… you found it," Gul said, smiling. "I'm glad… that it didn't amount to nothing." The smile on her face quickly faded away. She did not speak again but Yevon could feel her gaining equanimity, dissolving the regret she had about the isolation of her people from other Al-Bhed tribes and the recurring misgivings she had about their values and way of living.
"I wouldn't have unearthed the new ritual if it weren't for the scriptures you lent to me from the temple of Baaj, along with the support from your handful number of scholars in decrypting the texts," he admitted, smiling fondly at her. "And for these… you have my full gratitude."
Joy returned to lighten her face again, "The pleasure is all mine." She glanced at the city once more and asked, "Will you tell Uma about what you've accomplished here?"
"I must. She anticipates my return and my report on the outcome of the ritual."
"Have you… spoken to her about the other ritual you've learned of late and your new plans for the Machinas?"
Yevon's face darkened with disquietude before he shook his head. "No… not so soon. It will upset her."
"And for good reason," Gul remarked, turning to him with hands on her hips. "You've been pushing your luck a little too far. If Bevelle caught wind of your ventures, I'm afraid that we won't be able to stop them before we can."
"Complying with them no longer serve any purpose. They'll turn anything into an offense against them. Zanarkand, Baaj – and so many other cities, will never be safe so long as they continue to take the role of heading Spira without any consultation and mutual consensus between all our nations. We're running out of time, Gul."
Gul sighed, conflicted between wanting to agree and otherwise. "I suppose... I understand where you're coming from."
After a while, they decided that they had enough of inspecting the city. Yevon chanted the same hymn of prayer that he did before they awakened in this other world. The waterspout reappeared, quicker than it first did, then bound them within its whirling block of water, forcing them into a state of deliriousness once again. It flung them back to the cobblestoned courtyard at the temple of Baaj and they roused to worried faces peering at them.
Yevon returned to Zanarkand twenty-three days later, when twilight was tinting the city in fuchsia; when droves of Pteryx birds were soaring and croaking in the sky, searching for a place to land; when the waves beneath the city blown by the northerly breeze roll serenely on the surface of the sea; when the city became alight again as it usually does during hours of darkness with rows of buildings abounding with dazzling lights; and when people toil in kitchens to fix evening meals for their families or clients. He came dressed like a commoner and without a grand reception, for his trip was meant to be kept secret from everyone else, excluding a select trusted few.
He sneaked into the Dome without notice and hurried to the master chamber where he exchanged his simple garment with one that was more refined but agreeable for him to move around leisurely. He headed out towards the library, and greeted two of his attendants at one of the grand hallways, whom he issued an order to relay a certain message to his advisor. He encountered more residents along the way, who addressed him in the same deferential manner until he arrived at the library situated in the eastern wing of the Dome.
Inside the library, wooden shelves filled to the brim with tomes of different areas of study, sealed folders of age-old reports, atlases, and volumes of ancient scriptures, lined the walls, from the eastern end to the western end of the chamber, at both the top and ground levels. A huge globe made of the finest of materials imported from all around Spira and crafted by Farvana, Spira's renowned Al-Bhed artist occupied the centre of the library and surrounded by wooden sets of tables and chairs to be used by visitors. The ceiling was covered with a fresco illustrating another fable about the celestial man with Juggernaut horns: he sat with a paper made of sand and a pen made of pointed seashell in his hands, staring intently at a celestial woman standing and speaking in front of him, who was writing with a twig on the stem of a palm that she held in one of her hands. The fresco was meant to represent Zanarkand's never-ending thirst and hunger for knowledge.
This was the place where Yevon spent most of his time if he was not in the conference hall discussing trade or defence strategies. It lifted his exhaustion away and brought a delicate smile to his face. The sound of moving objects alerted him to another presence in the vicinity: a man clad in a green jacket, a white cape and pale brown trousers was on a ladder and slipping several books into one of the shelves. He was not older than forty years of age and had been hand-picked by Khal Kharanesh, Zanarkand's leader before Yaj Yeshe, to be the library custodian since he was fifteen.
"Did the new books just arrive, Maechen?" he questioned.
The man named Maechen turned and eased the lines between his knitted brows. "Yes, my lord. They all came from Kilika."
"And the documents that I requested two days ago?"
Maechen pointed a finger to an extended area of the library located in between two shelves at the ground level, "I've prepared them all in your study, my lord."
"Your efficiency is astounding, Maechen," Yevon praised, never hiding his partiality towards the custodian whom he befriended since his and Yeshe's early entry into the world of state crafting. "If you're finished with arranging the books, come over to the study. I have many things to tell you," he added, making his way to the referred chamber.
"I assume the ritual was a success?" Maechen failed to conceal the eagerness in his tone as he dropped all formalities.
Yevon flashed the library custodian a grin but said no more. He went into the study area and began sifting through the piles of documents organized for him on the table. There were papers he marked with a small cross at the top left corner to indicate that they were published research disproven by his own discovery of the Zanarkand in another realm. Others he set aside to reassess their cogency.
The doors to the library opened again, welcoming another presence who brought the echoing sound of clanking steel into the quietness as he marched with a full body armour towards the study area. "Welcome home, Lord Yevon," the person greeted with a peculiar resonance in his voice. Yevon lifted his head to see someone he had been expecting all along: Zaon, his advisor who recently wedded his daughter, Yunalesca and became his son-in-law.
Zaon captured Yevon's notice through his reputation as the city's finest Warrior in the armed forces. His astuteness in thinking was also demonstrated in a series of mandatory practical tests that he had to undergo with his peers. When Yevon arranged for an informal first meeting with him, it ended with Yevon's profound appreciation towards his overall courteous character.
"I believe my daughter has been… keeping you busy," he teased, colouring Zaon's ears flaming red with bashfulness. "I hope that it isn't too early to summon you back to your duties."
"Not at all, my lord. I'm at your service."
"Very well then. I'll narrate to you what transpired in Baaj and you must advise me on the most appropriate course of action to do next," he instructed, pacing the room out of his need to stretch his limbs.
His words seemed to reach Maechen who came rushing into the study as though chased by a herd of crazed Shoopuffs. "I'll… I'll scribe your words for you!"
He began his narration from the events that had unfolded during the early period of his arrival at Baaj: Gul elaborating to him about more findings obtained by Baaj scholars and his attempts with Joud to locate the possible coordination for opening the gateway at sea. His talk persisted, pausing only when he needed to drink to quench his dry and scratchy throat, or when his voice turned unruly or if his mouth grew tired of the incessant motions. Both Zaon and Maechen listened with attentiveness; the former gathering all the information he was receiving in his head like a Machina processing digital data; the latter scribing every word on a paper without missing any.
"You must still keep this undisclosed from the public, lest news travel fast to other nations and bring unwanted consequences," Zaon suggested when Yevon consulted him.
"But wouldn't our people be dismayed if we prolong this secrecy and they found out too late?"
"Our people are easy to appease… but not other nations who see us more as their adversary than an ally. The fiftieth Congregation of Spira is also nearing, we can't risk failing our negotiations."
Yevon returned to his seat and pressed onto his temples. His rationality agreed with Zaon's advice; it was strategically reasonable and served to guard Zanarkand from doom within Spira's field of politics. But the alternative was equally appealing – the public knowing about the existence of a Zanarkand in another realm would mean many more willing to give themselves up to build it as a safe keep for their future.
"Life would have been much easier for all of us if there's no necessity to ponder over all these… political affairs, wouldn't it?" Maechen humoured, almost as though he was speaking to the tormented voice in Yevon's head.
It was the twenty-third hour of the day when Yevon finally retired to his master chamber. The moon was hiding behind a heap of clouds and the stars were nowhere to be found; a rainy midnight was looming ahead. Uma was waiting for him at their bed, sitting in her velvet cream nightgown and with her lovely silver white hair flowing freely on her back. She was quiet when he entered but he could feel her tracing his every move with her eyes.
"You were absent at the dinner table this evening," she murmured with a note of disapproval.
"I was occupied in the library," he said, changing into a comfortable nightgown of his own. He gave her a kiss on her forehead but the unfillable cold distance between them lingered. Twenty years of marriage disordered by disagreements over state building decisions increasingly drove their hearts apart.
"Congratulations on the success of the new ritual," she said impassively when he climbed into bed. He knew she was less than impressed. She wanted it to fail to prove herself right.
"Many thanks," he countered, ignoring her malicious intent and pulling the quilt onto his body up to his chest.
"I overheard Maechen speak about another ritual," she pressed, speaking with a louder voice in an apparent effort to provoke him. "Something about using your body and consciousness to create a beast to protect the city."
"Uma, it is eleven in the night… I'm exhausted and I need my rest-"
"When is any of this going to stop, Yevon? When?"
"It will never stop, Uma! What part of this don't you understand?" Yevon yelled, throwing the quilt away from him and glaring sharply at Uma. "I will not stop until every corner of Zanarkand is protected!"
"How are you certain that Zanarkand will be protected with any of these rituals that have been consuming you for the last seven years? You wouldn't even be able to perform them without people willing to sacrifice themselves. You're giving Bevelle a reason to assault us over this nonsense!"
"They don't need a reason to attack us. They will attack us if they want to, without needing any reason. They despise us for who we are! And I have faith in our people to protect our city. There will be lines of those who would be willing to offer themselves for these rituals, to protect the city, just like many did for the Aeon summoning."
A laughter of mockery and distress ruptured out of Uma. Pool of tears glinted her eyes and she hurried to cover her face with both of her hands, almost clawing at her skin. "You just… You just never listen! And we'll all die because of you!"
"No one's going to die!" Yevon snapped, falling back into bed and pulling the quilt once again onto him. "Now stop this and go to bed."
Weeping uncontrollably, Uma climbed down the bed and left the chamber. Her grief resounded too luridly in the hallway as though apparitions from the past had been summoned to stay and wail with her. Yevon remained in bed, unable to lull himself to sleep and thinking about the final days of Yeshe's life. He worried that his wife was heading to the same route.