Later that same day, he walked the Dome alone, lost in thought. In the distance, the full moon could be seen over the edges of the horizon. He looked at it shining brightly in the sky. Would he still be able to see it tomorrow, he wondered. "Light of hope," Yunalesca had said. But do we really need to make false hopes where we can simply live as best we can? He hated the machina, and he hated Bevelle for what it was doing, but the future lay as a clouded mountain in the distance. Yunalesca wanted him to climb that mountain and rain down the wrath of God on Bevelle. But at what price? "To provide a light of hope.to provide a light of hope."

As he mused on these words, he looked back to the interior of the Dome.

That's strange. Why is the communication room activated? In the distance, he could clearly see the lights of the room blaring. Someone was in there. But why at this late hour? What could possibly.?

As he considered the question, he had the answer. He felt his blood rise and his head begin to swell in fury. Without any further thought as to where he was or who he was, the High Summoner ran. He ran as fast as he could humanly manage; his bare feet striking the solid marble floors every step of the way, each step sending a stab of pain through his legs. But he ignored it. All that mattered was the communication room. It was almost in sight.

"Betrayer!!!" He heard himself scream as he pulled the quivering minister from the communication console. "Who authorized a surrender to Bevelle?!" His eyes blazed in fury as he struggled to regain his control.

"High M-m-minister Ghen, my lord."

"WHY!?"

"Because he- he said you had lost control of your emotions and were letting your feelings- and your- your daughter dictate your action. He said that surely God could not want such wanton slaughter."

"The fool." He almost started weeping between the rhythmic pounding of his head. "The utter stupidity of it.does he really think Bevelle will honor a cease fire!" He murmured to himself, no longer truly conscious of his surroundings. The minister, seeing an opportunity, fled without any further hesitation. The High Summoner barely noticed. It was done. He heard an echo of moving metal from far away. It was faint, but distinct enough in its sound for him to recognize its meaning. High Minister Ghen had ordered all the remaining city gates to be dropped. Bevelle machina would be in the Dome within minutes.

In pure desperation, he rushed from the communication chambers. He fled through the ornate halls of the Dome, not totally sure in his mind where he was rushing to. But he felt it. He knew.

Within moments, he stood on the balcony. The balcony of the Inner Sanctum of the Fayth, the very same one he had stood on at the beginning, watching the infidel machine tear his city to flaming debris. As they did now, but all the more increased. The fires where greater now, pure undulating pillars of flame and smoke poring from every district. The air was hot with steam and smelting metal; as it viciously blew into his face, he could taste the ash once more. It saturated the very sky, blowing in huge wind torrents like some kind of smothering tidal wave. Only now it did not simply smell of burning metal and wood, but of flesh. The entire city was ablaze; there was no more tomorrow, only the here and now. He knew what he must do.

"Here me Bevelle, whether you may hear with your ears or not. Know that you will see. I curse you forever: I curse your children, and their children down to the last generation. I set upon you such Death that you will feel its spiraling throughout every life on Spira!"

He began the incantation. Within seconds, the seigan was drawn. He cast it down into the center of the city below and began drawing the mandala in the air. Here upon, he set the final letter, that letter which is the sign of mighty Ebon - forever and ever into eternity. Begin the Dreaming, oh you fayth - you fayth of Zanarkand. With that, he reached his hands out into the sky and sang the Hymn of the Fayth - "Ie ui nobo me no ren mi ri yoju yogo. Hasa te kana eku tamae." Once again, and forever and ever. But this time, he wove it. He wove the patterns and the notes, letting them spiral around him like a ray of lightening from heaven. There, he wove the Hymn itself into a mandala. He set the mandala, and with a movement of his hand, he through it into the sky. The invisible mandala crackled with energy, and made itself visible. From the seigan mark on the ground, it too crackling with power, a mighty light gathered at both ends of heaven and earth. With a screech of might, they poured from their respective signs and met in a massive conflagration of spinning white light just above the Zanarkand. The sphere of light froze for a second, then exploded into a gigantic wave - a wave which completely covered the city.

As he watched, he felt the stiffening of life throughout the city. Now, it remained constant - neither ending nor beginning. The fayth, the greatest of all faiths to be ever forged - was complete. Now for the beast. Streching out his mind, he once again took hold of the mandalas he had cast - and inverted them. He reached out into the Dream, and draw it upon the mandala, letting the pyrefly impression sit for a moment. And then, then it was made. There was simply not other word to describe it. In one moment, Zanarkand was dark, even the omnipresent fires extinguished by the spell. Then, there was a clap of thunder, a noiseless crash of sensation and freed energy. With that, a gigantic pillar of light shot up from the grounds of Zanarkand, high and far above into the clouds. Spira's light of hope, just as Yunalesca said.

The pillar of light did not move. It simply shimmered, waiting for its master's command. But the High Summoner was not through yet. There was still one piece left to be played; a little bit of his own invention in addition to the High Summoning. He took the ritual knife from its customary place at his side and held it aloft. It had never been used in the way that other knives were intended.

The Spiral is set in motion. He thought, and with that belief, he brought the knife down into his chest. It was enchanted, so he felt no pain.only a sensation of tumbling into blackness. The Farplane called. But he did not answer. Mustering all of his mind, he pushed the blackness away. He refused his death. It was done, and without another summoner to send him, it would be. Forever and ever, he mused.

The High Summoner discarded all vestiges of human form there and then. Without further contemplation, he cast his mortal guise away from himself like child does clothing. He compacted his form and flew with all his might towards the shimmering pillar of light. The unnamed Aeon would now receive its christening - Sin. As he his fiend-body met the Aeon's form, he felt all his emotions fade slowly away, as he had cast away his human body, he cast away all of his mind as well. For the good of Zanarkand, I will be Zanarkand.

Only determination remains. *** Yunalesca watched the destruction of Zanarkand from the safety of a distant cliff. Zaon was asleep not far from her; let him rest. There would be little more time for rest after this day.

As she watched, the pillar of light that was her father's high summoning rippled with the force of its new occupant. Formerly a straight beam of light into the sky, the pillar now twisted and undulated with the stress of the unearthly powers that compelled it to be. That dreamed it to be. From all directions, streams of pyreflies where pulled into the whirling tornado of the Aeon. It was as a night light by a second moon - and the glow of literally thousands of fireflies. But what fireflies. Fireflies of the Spira's hope - and the instrument of man's penance.

All had gone according to plan. All that was left was to set up the Spiral of Death. It would require sacrifice, much of her own, but that was the price of reparation. It was inevitable. The priest of Ebon would now become his curse.

"Pray, Yu Yevon. Dream, Fayth. Until eternity, bring glory."

She wondered if in the future, the old song would still be used. The meanings of things seemed to change over time, but.

She knew one thing for certain: Spira would never forget her father.

Sacrifices had to be made to preserve the light of hope. But she would make sure that it would be remembered.

"With the Sin of man, as I shall put it in place with the light of hope, so shall you remain an inevitable part of Spira's destiny. As the cleansing is forever, so shall you be, oh curse of Yevon." She whispered into the dark. Perhaps at the fading light of Sin, off to seek the destroying machine, perhaps at the ghost of her father. But perhaps she said it for another reason, one that is still unknown.

So shall you be.