A/N - Here we are.

As with the Jecht Spheres, not all game scenes are transcribed exactly word-for-word, action-for-action. If something differs from the game, chances are it was a conscious decision on my part, not an error.

Characters, settings, concepts, and dialog from Final Fantasy X are, as always, copyright Squaresoft.

Zanarkand

Braska will call the Final Aeon. He will fight Sin, then die.

It was my first thought each morning upon waking. It was the last to cross my mind before I went to sleep. It was a mantra imprinted on every footstep I took across the snow of the mountain.

I tried to set my feelings aside, to let the words slip away, to clear my mind. I looked for answers, going over every scrap of the teachings in my head, searching for some hint of a way to defeat Sin that would not cost Braska his life. I considered whether I could convince him to turn back, to return to Bevelle, collect his daughter, and take her to Besaid, where they could live in peace the rest of their days.

All these efforts were futile.

I gave no voice to my doubts, of course. What in Yevon's name could I have said? "Lord Braska, I've changed my mind. I don't think this is a good idea after all. Let's go home." If I couldn't talk him out of it when he was safe in Bevelle six months ago, I certainly couldn't dissuade him when he was so close to accomplishing his purpose.

As promised, it had taken two days to reach the base of Mt. Gagazet. The Ronso had welcomed and resupplied us, offering us the home of their leader for the night. It would be our last comfortable rest stop until journey's end. The next three and a half days we spent battling our way through bitter cold, fiends, a mysterious summoning, treacherous caves, and finally a ferocious dragon to gain the summit. Now, at last, the ancient ruins of Zanarkand lay before us, endless ocean shimmering in the distance.

Jecht stood, unmoving, at the very edge of the trail, a sheer cliff dropping off just inches from his feet. I could not see his face and was not certain I wanted to. He claimed to have given up hope of ever returning home some weeks ago, but the reality of the dead city still had to be a blow. This devastation was not recent; the buildings were clearly hundreds of years old, walls cracked and smoothed by centuries of wind, rain, and burning sunshine. His home was gone, and had been for a very long time.

Braska walked up next to him and laid a hand on his back. After a moment, I joined them, taking my place on Braska's other side.

"I'm sorry," Braska said. I glanced at my companions. Jecht's expression could have been carved from stone, while Braska's face nearly glowed with anticipation.

Jecht shrugged. "Wasn't expecting anythin' different. Not really."

"Your Zanarkand must be out there somewhere," I said. "We'll find you a way back, I know we will."

He just shook his head.

"Shall we move on?" Braska stepped back from the ledge and headed for the trail. After a moment, Jecht did the same, eyes cast down to the ground in defeat. I intended to follow, but I found that I could not move. My feet were rooted to the spot. I had to stop him from descending to that shore.

"Lord Braska!" I called out.

He stopped on the trail and turned. "What is it?"

I read his expression, saw his impatience to move onward, his joy at nearing his goal, and found that I could say nothing after all. "Never mind, my lord."

We went on. It took us just over a day to finish trekking down the dry side of the mountain, the twin forces of gravity and Zanarkand pulling us forward much faster than we had been able to push upwards through the ice and snow. We walked through the night, not stopping until we reached the bottom. There, we pulled up on a bit of flat ground and rested for a few hours. Braska and Jecht napped; I could not, and so kept watch, the words running through my head, over and over again, until I wanted to scream in an attempt to wipe them away.

Braska will call the Final Aeon. He will fight Sin, then die.

When they woke, it was near sunset. "Where to now?" Braska asked, turning to Jecht.

"Beats me," he said with a shrug. "It all looks so different. And it's not like we had summoners lookin' for the Final Aeon in my Zanarkand."

"Well, it can't be too difficult to find." Braska climbed a small nearby hill and looked over the city. "There," he said, pointing, his tone hushed.

We followed his arm to see a large ruin, swarming with pyreflies.

"Damn," Jecht breathed. "It's the blitz stadium!"

I stamped out the fire, and we continued, picking our way across ruined roads and past toppled structures, tackling the occasional fiend as we traveled. None were beyond our abilities, though, and by the time the stars appeared we had arrived at the entrance to the old domed stadium.

A ghostly figure awaited us there, a gray-bearded man in old-fashioned priest's robes. "Journeyer of the long road, name yourself," he said in an ancient, quavering voice.

Braska pulled his back perfectly straight. "I am the summoner Braska," he replied, "of the city of Bevelle."

"Show me your eyes, my son," said the priest. "Let me see the path you have traveled." Braska took a step forward. The two men were of a height, so they stared directly into one another's faces for a time. "Yes," he said at last. "You have journeyed well, and the Lady Yunalesca will certainly welcome your arrival."

My mouth went completely dry. "Lady... Yunalesca?" I whispered.

The priest ignored me. "Go to her now, and bring your guardians with you." He bowed, and Braska bowed in return. We walked past him and into the dome. Once inside, I stopped Braska with a hand to his arm.

"Lady Yunalesca?" I shook my head. "Impossible!"

"I wonder," said Braska. "If she is an unsent..."

I shivered. "It is blasphemy even to suggest such a thing!"

"The only way to find out is to move forward." He set out on the path, and Jecht and I had no choice but to follow.

The dome was filled with pyreflies, the remains of our predecessors. Every so often, we would stumble into a scene from someone's memory being played out, and I became more apprehensive with each one we witnessed. I could see from my companions' faces that they felt much the same way, and soon we were running through the ruins.

Eventually, we reached a round portal that looked like it might once have been a door. As Braska was about to step through, his guardians a few paces behind, Jecht stopped abruptly.

"Hey Braska," he said. "You don't have to do this, y'know. If you wanna live--"

"Thank you for your concern," Braska interrupted, pausing, his back still to us. "But my decision is made."

"Fine," Jecht replied, crossing his arms. "I've said my piece."

At long last, I could hold back no more. "Well, I haven't!"

Jecht turned to me in surprise. Braska did not move, but he raised his head and stiffened.

"Lord Braska," I said, reaching out toward him, my tone pleading, "let us go back! I don't... I don't want to see you die!"

He shook his head. "You've always known this was to happen, my friend."

I dropped my eyes. "Yes. But now that the time is upon me, I cannot accept it."

My lord turned around. "Auron. I am honored that you care for me so. But I have come here to kill grief itself. What is my life in the face of that? I will defeat Sin and lift the veil of sorrow that covers Spira. Please, try to understand."

I looked into his face and saw his unwavering resolve, tempered though it was by sympathy. "All right, my lord," I said, taking a deep breath. "I will try."

We worked our way through one last set of trials and killed the fearsome beast that awaited when we had finished. I dealt the final blow, and the fiend disappeared in a cloud of twinkling lights to reveal a lift beneath its mass. Braska turned to us and clasped our hands. "Thank you," he said.

I could not speak. Jecht stood silently as well, and we watched him disappear for what we thought might be the last time. It was a great shock to both of us, then, when he reappeared not two minutes later, a look of bewilderment on his face. "There's no Final Aeon," he said.

"What do you mean, 'no Final Aeon'?" Jecht barked.

"Just what I said! Come see." The three of us piled onto the lift, and Braska led us into the Chamber of the Fayth.

A circle was inscribed in the floor. It was topped by what looked like glowing glass but was clearly some sort of mysterious force. A stone figure of a man lay beneath it. "A fayth?" I asked

"Perhaps it used to be," Braska said, "but no longer. There is nothing inside; it's just ordinary stone."

"That statue lost its power as a fayth long ago," intoned a voice behind us. We turned to see the same spirit figure we had met at the entrance. "It is Lord Zaon, the first fayth of the Final Summoning. What you see before you is all that remains of him. Lord Zaon is... his soul is gone."

"And the Final Summoning with it?" Braska asked, a trace of anger in his voice.

"But fear not," our guide continued. "Lady Yunalesca will show you the path. The Final Aeon will be yours. The summoner and the Final Aeon will join powers. Go to her now; inside, the lady awaits."

The priest disappeared. I looked uneasily at the glowing portal opposite the door we had used to enter. "My lord, I do not like this," I said.

"It's not what I was expecting," he admitted. "But we must follow the path that has appeared before us. Come." And the three of us walked through the door, into a splendid hall decorated with rich tapestries and a deep red carpet, all bearing the symbols of Yevon.

The door at the top of the stairway opposite us opened, and it admitted another figure, this one a breathtaking woman with long white-blond hair, dressed in next to nothing. This apparition, this creature of surpassing beauty swirling with pyreflies, could only be the Lady Yunalesca.

She floated down the steps and spread her arms wide as Braska went to meet her. " Welcome to Zanarkand," she said. "I congratulate you, summoner. You have completed your pilgrimage. I will now bestow you with that which you seek. The Final Summoning will be yours. Now, choose."

"Choose, my lady?" Braska repeated, confusion on his face.

"Yes, choose. You must choose the one whom I will change to become the fayth of the Final Summoning."

Braska's eyes went very, very wide. Jecht just looked perplexed. "What?" I gasped, as dread was born in the pit of my stomach and started spreading outward. What madness was this? The teachings said nothing of it.

She looked at me. "There must be a bond, between chosen and summoner, for that is what the Final Summoning embodies: the bond between husband and wife, parent and child, or between friends. If that bond is strong enough, its light will conquer Sin. A thousand years ago, I chose my husband Zaon as my fayth. Our bond was true, and I obtained the Final Aeon." Her gaze returned to Braska. "There is nothing to fear. You will soon be freed of worry and pain. For once you call forth the Final Aeon, your life will end. Death is the ultimate and final liberation."

Braska's face slowly took on a more resigned, almost peaceful expression. "I understand, my lady."

Lady Yunalesca nodded. "Come to me when you have made your decision. I will be waiting for you." She turned and went back up the stairs, shutting the door behind her.

Braska turned to me, his eyes questioning, and I knew what he was going to ask of me.

I took an involuntary step back in sudden horror. A bond between chosen and summoner... Braska was right, of course. He and Jecht had become close over the course of our journey, but still they had known each other for barely three months. I had been his closest friend, other than his wife, for almost seven years. Once I had thought Kinoc held that honor in my life, but recent events had proven that belief false, and I knew Braska to be the best friend I would ever have. If the strength of the bond was the highest consideration, he had to choose me.

But there was a wrongness to this, to everything about Yunalesca and the Final Summoning. I couldn't explain why, but I knew it, sensed it deep in my bones. The idea of being encased in stone, my soul separating from my body while I still lived, utterly repelled me. I could not become a fayth, not even for Braska. Yet if my lord, my summoner, my friend, asked it, how could I refuse? My life was sworn to him; it was his to command. All I could do, the only thing I could think of, was to keep him from making the request.

"It is not too late!" I cried out. "Let us turn back!"

He looked away from me, and I could see disappointment written in the set of his shoulders. "If I turn back, who will defeat Sin?" he asked bitterly. "Would you have some other summoner and his guardians go through this?"

"No... but my lord, there must be another way! A better way."

Jecht spoke up from where he stood behind us. "Maybe. But this is the only way we got right now." We both turned to look at him. He dropped his folded arms. "Fine," he said. "Make me the fayth." I opened my mouth to interrupt, but he cut off my impending protest with a sweep of his hands. "I been doing some thinkin'. My dream, he's back in the other Zanarkand. I wanted to make that runt into a star blitz player. Show him the view from the top, y'know. But now I know that's never gonna happen. There's no way home for me, and I'm never gonna see him again. So this'll be my new dream. Make me the fayth, Braska, and we'll defeat Sin together. Maybe then my life will have some meaning."

I shook my head violently. Didn't they feel how very wrong this was? "Please, Jecht, don't do this! If you live... maybe we can find another way. We'll think of something, I know we will!"

"Don't try to talk me out of this, Auron." Jecht glared at me and crossed his arms again. "I've thought it all through. Besides, I ain't getting any younger. So I might as well make myself useful!"

Braska walked over to him. "Jecht..."

"What! You're not gonna try and stop me, too?"

Braska shook his head. "Sorry. I mean... thank you."

With a smile, Jecht rested his hands on Braska's shoulders and looked down at him. But his next words were to me. "Braska still has to fight Sin, Auron. Guard him well. Make sure he gets there." He dropped his arms and looked up, taking a deep breath. "Well, let's go."

The two men headed for the stairway. Dumbfounded, I watched them go. How could they both go along with this exercise in futility? The thought loosed my tongue, and I called out to them once more. "Lord Braska! Jecht!"

They paused halfway up the steps and turned around. "What do you want now?" Jecht asked, his tone impatient.

"Sin always comes back. It comes back after the Calm every time," I said. "The cycle will continue, and your deaths will mean nothing!"

Braska looked down at me, his face thoughtful. "But there's always a chance that it won't come back this time," he replied. "It's worth trying."

"I see what you're saying, Auron," said Jecht. "I'll find a way to break the cycle."

I studied Jecht's face, feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time in days. "You have a plan?" I asked.

"Trust me." He grinned. "Just like you said. I'll think of somethin'." And then he laughed.

I tried to come up with something, anything more to say that would stall them, give them time to rethink this decision, but no words came. Jecht held open the door for Braska, who walked through. He was about to follow, when he stopped and looked at me. "Can I ask you one last favor? Uh..." He looked at the floor. "Nah, never mind."

"Out with it!" I demanded.

"Okay. This is the thing. Take care of my son. In Zanarkand. He's such a crybaby, y'know? He needs someone there to hold his hand. Will you watch over him?"

I had no idea how to respond to this request. "In Zanarkand? How am I supposed to get there?"

He laughed again. "Hey, you said it yourself! There must be a way back, right? I trust you to find it."

I thought for a moment. By volunteering to become the fayth, he had saved me from that fate. I owed him my life; making this promise was the least I could do in return. "All right then, I will. I give you my word: I will take care of your son and guard him with my life." How I would keep this vow and still return to Relle, I did not know. But if Jecht could stop Sin from returning, I could surely find some way to take her to Zanarkand, or bring the boy to Spira. Hard to say which of us had set ourselves the more impossible task.

"Thanks, Auron." Jecht smiled at me. "You're still a stiff, but that's what I always liked about you." He turned to the door, then returned his eyes to mine one last time. "Goodbye."

He disappeared through the passage, slamming the door behind him. As I heard it clang shut, the sound reverberating through the chamber, the fullness of my despair came crashing down on me. I dropped to my knees, closing my eyes in anguish, and I prayed with all my might for enough strength to carry me through this trial.

Time lost all meaning as I waited. It could have been hours, it could have been days, it might even have only been a few minutes. But eventually, I heard the door open. Opening my eyes, instantly alert, I stood and saw Braska at the top of the stair, his face deathly pale and slick with sweat. He stood still, then started to sway into a faint, his eyes falling closed.

I rushed up the stairs, catching him as he fell, sitting on the steps and lowering him into my lap. He lay there, perfectly motionless, hardly even breathing, and for a moment I thought he might have died, right there in my arms.

Then he gasped, shuddering, and looked at me, eyes haunted. "Water," he croaked.

I lifted my jug to his lips; he drank a few greedy gulps, then pushed it weakly away.

"Jecht?" I asked, brushing a tendril of sweat-soaked hair off his forehead.

He looked away for a moment, then let out a sigh. "He... is with me."

"Can you walk, my lord?"

Mutely, he shook his head.

I lifted him up, one arm supporting his upper back, the other resting beneath his knees. He wrapped his arms about my neck and laid his head against my chest as I carried him out of the hall, through the Chamber, up the lift, and through the Cloister. All the way to the entrance of the dome I carried him, avoiding the undead monks guarding the pathways, steering clear of anything that looked like it might trigger a memory -- ours or anyone else's. After making my way through the ruin, I found an area clear enough of rubble that I could set up camp. Propping Braska up against a wall, I pulled out his bedroll, laid it out, then helped him to it. He lay back, closing his eyes, and fell almost instantly into a restless sleep. I watched with worry. Gaining a new aeon always tired Braska, but I had never seen him so thoroughly drained before. "What did she do to you?" I whispered to myself.

Dawn was breaking overhead. I settled down on the ground, took out some field rations and my jug, and made ready to take another long watch.