As she moves across the water, wrapped in swirling light, I cannot help a smile. Your daughter, she is more graceful than you ever were, I think. The baton moves and softly, silently, the pyreflies rise into the sky. There is a look of such concentration on her face, held there by the fierce determination to see the end of this pilgrimage, to bring to the people what you did. It wasn't an easy legacy you left her, but she's strong. Lucky for the world.
Jecht's boy is sitting up, fair hair dripping water, catching the light, and he looks so lost. I think he felt his father out there, in the chaos. Neither of you left your children easy legacies.
He is watching your daughter, and there is pain in his face. I can guess what he is thinking. He wants to know why she is dancing, what cause there could possibly be for dancing in the wake of so much death. He does not understand, an ignorance Jecht and I shared once, but the dead do not have time for his doubts. They continue to drift into the sky, and I wonder if he sees the beauty.
That is what a Summoner is, after all, one who brings beauty from pain, spreads hope where there was none, whatever the cost. He does not understand that cost either, and as I watch the gaze he casts over Yuna I do not think he will be ever understand. He will not know why, but he will follow your daughter to the end, 'til they look upon his home and she meets her namesake and, as all things, they come to an ending. It might even be the ending we hoped for ten years ago.
He will not understand, but I will go to him anyway. I owe Jecht that much.