Author's Note: First off, I hope my first chapter intrigued you. It was a bit of

inspiration I had one day at work as I was playing FF8. Dunno where the

association came from, but there it was. Second, I want to apologize in advance

for the shortness of chapter two. I have Boy Scouts tonight with my brother and

don't have time for much more than this. But there will be more after the

meeting, I promise.

MORE DISCLAIER: I don't own FFX, FFX-2, the above mentioned FF8, any of

the characters therein, dialogue taken from the game, or much of anything else

that would make me money. I do own THIS STORY (except for the parts I copy from

the game, which will be noted) and any origonal characters I may create for it.

If you'd like to post it on your site, please drop me a line and ask

permission.Eerian

The wind outside is cold and bites into my face as I stare out at Lake

Macelania. I'm still getting used to only having one eye, although I don't have

much more time to adjust. I think about Kinoc's pressuring to get me to talk

about the pilgrimage and I find myself growing angry. Braska had died and

defeated Sin.

Isn't that enough?


I find myself saying a silent goodbye to this place, as I know Braska did while

we were here. Silent--like so many things in Spira. My throat tightens as I

stare across the lake at the temple, remembering its part in the murder of my

friends. But I turn away before the tears come.

The woods loom welcomingly beyond the lake. I turn towards them and

begin to trek across the snow to its embrace, thinking that I may never see this

place again.

Jecht is Sin now. And Sin is waiting for me in Zanarkand.


It took me nearly a day to make my way from the lake to Mt. Gagazet.

Good time really, although it will take me another day to climb to the peak of

the mountain. By the time I get there, I will be a day late to my meeting with

Jecht. But there is nothing to be done about it.

After a brief rest, I resume my journey to the city of the dead.

I find it to be a fitting destination.

As I stare out toward Zanarkand from my perch on the summit of Mt.

Gagazet, I feel my emotions war within myself. I look at the thing my friend was

forced to become and want to scream, weep and vomit all at once.

In the end, I do none of these things. With a labored sigh, I move down the

mountain, blocking out my view of both Sin and the ruined towers of Zanarkand.

And as I travel, I remember.