Chapter Two:

What had seemed like a relatively simple task complicated itself almost immediately.
Kisrel couldn't just WALK to Old Zanarkand; if she wasn't picked up by the Crimson Knights for leaving the Holy City (something she knew was illegal) shoe could get robbed by marauders or worse.
The only solution seemed to be: buy or rent an Al Bhed Speeder. Obviously, buying would be better because she didn't know when she would return but good vehicles were expensive and she didn't want to deplete her hoard of gil before she had even left New Zanarkand.
Luckily for her the Machine Faction's factories weren't far, she just had to travel through the DownTown Meet… Having never been there alone before, Kisrel viewed the busiest section of the city through new eyes. Practically in the shadow of the Temple, the DTM was a blur of colors, smells and jostling sensations. Vendors, most owned by the O'aka Syndicate, hocked their wares, whether they were food, potions or statue of Lady Yuna herself.
Quietly, trying not to attract undue attention on herself, Kisrel moved through the crowd getting bumped and shoved like an archaic blitzball. She only stopped when she came towards the front of the Temple. Almost all the business men here sold items pertaining to the Lady: a pendant with 'a real lock of her hair inside', yet more statues, most portraying Yuna in her Summoner or White Mage ensemble, and then there were the Spheres. Holy Spheres. Irrefutable proof that the Citizens were doing the Lady's will: she told them, and taught them her lessons all the while looking regal and divine, her eyes shining, a bright smile lighting her angelic face, and her arms outstretched in a gesture of love and devotion to her faithful followers. To be honest, Kisrel had always doubted the Spheres, Yuna was too pat, too packaged. But such heresy was punishable by death, by the Lady's own decree.
Kisrel avoided the vendors and tried no to look at the Temple (which always seemed to be staring right at her) and yet she felt drawn, something pulling her. Some urgent need to go inside, one last time. Joining a river of worshippers, Kisrel entered through the Great Doors, ornate structures ten feet high, inlaid with gold and jewels.
Inside the noise was hushed, a stark contrast to the cacophony outside. Loyal people of all races bent and prayed, eyes closed, mouths moving in a silent benediction.
Despite the warmth of the fires in the room, Kisrel shivered. Moving as quickly as was politely possible, she all but dove through the crystal blue doors that separated the main Temple from the Shrine. Here it was even more quiet, but Kisrel felt herself warming. There was something comforting about the Hsrine, with its dark tapestries and lanterns of azure flame.
Kisrel stood in the center of room-her feet on marbled flooring, her eyes sweeping the garnet walls. The voice behind her, speaking in childish innocence startled her greatly.
"Are you here seeking Yuna?"
Kisrel spun around and several things clicked in her mind. There was something very wrong with this boy. He had a wise, adult face, yet he was tiny. On the other hand it was difficult to tell with the outfit he was wearing. The style of make had gone out centuries ago, and Kisrel was sure it had never been fashionable.
The only people who wore hoods on their heads were the Priests and Priestess', in fact, it was forbidden for laymen to. And yet, this boy, in complete audacity, wore a blue hood, under which he peered at her, with bright eyes. That was it. His eyes. They seemed to know more than they should, and Kisrel felt a strong urge to bow. But instead, she shrugged and asked, rather inanely:
"Isn't everyone here?"
The boy shook his head energetically, a serious, almost mournful expression on his face.
"No," he replied, his voice low pitched for a child, but still carrying the traces of naivete'.
"They are here seeking the Lady. But you-" he walked around her and scrutinized her, making Kisrel acutely uncomfortable, "-You seek Yuna."
His tone was knowledgeable, the kind of tone of one who is fully informed about what they are talking about. Kisrel's brow furrowed. 'Seek the Lady…You seek Yuna…'
"What's the difference?" she inquired, confused. The mysterious child graced her with a smile, and Kisrel oddly felt like she had been given a gift. The boy bowed, and crossed his arms in front of himself, bringing his hands together, one on top of the other, that Kisrel though looked familiar, and yet couldn't place. She tried to mimic his movements, but she felt awkward and gawky. The boy nodded, then reached out his hand. Warily, Kisrel put out her own. So far the whole experience had been bizarre, and it didn't look like it was going to make sense any time soon. Silently, the boy-who-wasn't placed an object into Kisrel's palm. It was a Sphere, but unlike the Holy Spheres that glowed blinding yellow and were much smaller, this one glowed orange and was bulky. Kisrel's eyes shot from the sphere to the boy and back again. She turned the sphere over and over in her hands, getting the feeling of it.
"May this guide you on your journey," the boy-who-wasn't said, cryptically.
"Wha-" she looked up, but the boy was gone, as if he had never been there. Kisrel shook her head, trying to clear it. What in Yuna's name was going on? She looked around to see if anyone had noticed the exchange, but the room was strangely devoid of people, leaving her alone with her thoughts…and the Sphere, warming her hand.

Kisrel glanced around, suddenly feeling very foolish. But there was no one else in the room, only the fluttering of the many tapestries to give movement.
For a while she just stood there, deciding her next move. It flashed through her mind-a fleeting though-to just throw the Sphere away, to forget this foolish mission and simply go home. But many more, louder voices, demanded that she continue, arguing that she could never return with honor if she didn't finish what she had started. And so it was, with haltering steps, that she made her way to the Sphere-reader. It was a glorified table, with a receptical for spheres. Many of the better off families had some right in their house, but it was more common to just take them to the Temple. Before she could doubt herself, Kisrel dropped the Sphere in the hole.
There was a 'whirr' as the Screen opened, and the first images began to play across the screen.
The setting was difficult to decipher, but after some jostling and wiggling of the camera, Kisrel recognized Luca, although the images appeared to be several decades old. Luca was all but gone now, but here, it shone in all its archaic glory.

People milled aroung a fountain, seeming content to simply walk around. A small girl holding a ballon came up to whoever was behind the sphere recorder and held her prize out. A sweet voice said:
"Oh, thank you. What is this for?"
"For you, Lady Yuna," she replied, sweetly. That was odd, Yuna didn't sound like that in the Holy Spheres. She sounded...less confident, more...human. The little girl scampered off. A low laugh came from just off camera. The camera moved to someone who looked like the High Warrior Paine, except...she looked shorter, less powerful.
"Just another adoring fan, huh, Yuna?" she asked, with a tight smile. Paine never smiled, at least not in the Holy Spheres. A high giggle sounded, and Rikku appearedShe at least seemed somewhat similair, but Rikku rarely showed in the Holy Spheres, or the Records, except as a side note. It was implied that she was just a tag along who followed the Great Priestess and her High Warrior around. Yet here, they all seemed to be depending on each other.

All in all, the Sphere had to be fake. Right? Or maybe Kisrel was right all along, and the Holy Spheres were fake. She watched transfixed as the Sphere blacked out for a moment, then glowed again, again in Luca, but this time, inside the Sphere Theatre.

A more somber looking Rikku frowned in concern.
"What's wrong, Yunie?"
YUNIE?! No one would DARE refer to the Great Mother in such a way.
The camera lifted, as if the recorder was shrugging.
"Oh, just thinking. I think I would like to do more spheres besides just this one. Starting with finding whoever stole that Dresssphere...." her voice trailed off. Rikku punched her hand in the air, a mock expression of seriousness lighting her face.
"Yeah! We'll get that Sphere thief!"
There was a chorus of cheers and laughter and the screen went black...

Kisrel was left with more questions than answers, but at least she knew where to start looking. She would find that Dress-sphere, and the records of that adventure...

Suddenly the screen came back to life. A ship, obviously the Lady's personal airship-the Celestrial-rode through the sky like a giant bird, in fact, like the bird mounted on its deck. The Lady, her hands clasped behind her back, her head tilted, and her eyes wearing a far away look, murmered to herself, as if carrying on a conversation with someone only she could see.
"Where to leave these? If you came back, where would you look? Perhaps I'll leave them everywhere, and then someday, someone can hunt for them, as I hunted for spheres of you. Well, then I shall put the first hint here."
She looked straight at the camera and Kisrel felt a pain shoot through her heart. Her eyes...they were so deep and sad, full of longing, and yet...peaceful.
"The first sphere...is in Macalania, where the butterflies sing."
Kisrel's heart fell. Macalania was gone, having faded ages ago. But there were still some ruins...perhaps...just maybe, she had a chance.
Yuna, for it could only be her, smiled, and the screen faded for the final time.

Kisrel stood, shell-shocked. It was like Yuna KNEW, somehow KNEW what Kisrel was doing, but how? Of course, the Priests would say it was because the Lady knew everything, but Kisrel believed differently. And to have given her such a vital clue...surely Kisrel's mission was the will...of the Goddess.