DISCLAIMER: I do not own SQUARE, SQUARESOFT, SQUARE ENIX or the characters, places or ideas from their games. They own me.
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There was a loud 'thud' and then a silence filled with fury. Kinoc stood for a moment, his fist still pressing into the table that was the current recipient of his anger. He almost wished that the meddling Chella was still alive so that he could beat her to within an inch of her life. Again. That reminder did little to offset his current ire, somehow even when vengeance was sweet, that feeling never lasted long enough. A part of him missed Auron terribly, the steady, loyal presence had always been calming to him and truth be told he needed Auron, though he would never be caught admitting it. Then again another part of him wanted to ram his katana through the man; cheating on his best friend with Kinoc's own secretary – that was unexpectedly low. No matter; the monk steeled himself again, the cold, calculating being re-emerging. He couldn't let himself be distracted by the past, he glanced over at the newly-pressed formal dress uniform hanging on his closet door and smiled humorlessly; he had a wedding to attend.

The summoner and his two guardians strode down the Mi'hen Highroad in amiable silence, each one seeing different aspects of the winding road. Braska saw the occasional passerby and felt a strange compassion for them that he seemed to feel ever since he decided to undertake the pilgrimage. The thought amused him greatly: he appeared to be becoming just like his wife had been. She always had a constant tenderness towards anyone who shared Spira with her and it had somehow rubbed off on him. Unlike him, she would have undertaken the pilgrimage without a second thought for her own life. Some days he missed her so much that he wanted nothing more than for the pilgrimage to be over so that he could finally join her on the Farplane. And yet, miraculously he had been blessed with a guardian who likewise knew the value of word and deed and was daily prepared to sacrifice his life for the greater of these. Without steadfast, stoic Auron by his side, Braska was certain he would have given up his commitment to save Spira long ago. He wondered if the dark-haired ex-monk knew that, Auron always seemed so closed off, like he believed his views not worth sharing. Despite his honesty about the happenings that had shaped his past, it was still rare to detect his true emotions. Then again, everyone had their secrets that they kept in their own unique way. He glanced quickly at Jecht who was cheerfully whistling as he strolled along the highroad. How would his scar-covered friend react to the revelation that the end of their journey also meant the end of the summoner's life?

Meanwhile, the guardian Auron was trying hard to stem his annoyance at Jecht's attempting to whistle the Hymn of the Fayth. It was hard enough to keep a wary eye out for fiends or ruffians along the highroad without being preceded by someone who currently sounded like a sick parrot. Being strangled. He took in a deep breath and carried on, wryly wondering if his demise would come not from fiends but rather off-key warbling.

Jecht on the other hand could not have been more oblivious to the disharmonious sounds that he was making, he was thinking about blitzball. Braska had told him about the port city of Luca, the second largest in Spira and the next stop of their pilgrimage. Despite the blandishments in his companions' descriptions of the blitzball capitol, it still sounded like a far cry from the towering stadium at Zanarkand where he had spent so many days. Oddly, this train of thought did not continue to its normal destination of analyzing formations and techniques; instead he found himself in unfamiliar territory wondering if he had done the right thing spending so much of his time on blitzball. He could have spent more time with Tidus, he thought ruefully, knowing in his heart that it would have made a significant difference in his relationship with his son.

"Let's rest." The voice belonged to a rather parched Braska, who had spotted one of the many ruins that marked the landscape of the highroad. He waited for both guardian's consent before the trio detoured towards the dilapidated building, reminiscent of an age long past for Spira. As they neared the structure Auron took the lead, blinking at the relatively dim light within. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he turned back to motion his companions forward only to see Jecht grab his sword with a look of alarm.

"Watch out!" Auron ducked just in time, talons missing his head by mere centimeters as an overlarge fiend seemed to materialize out of the shadows. In the next instant Jecht had whirled past him, springing to attack the creature, but sensing the danger to itself it rose and hovered out of reach, great wings beating at the air and sending clouds of dust and dead leaves towards the travelers. Braska crouched just inside the crumbling entryway, shading his eyes from the onslaught, unable to see either of his guardians. With some effort he stiled his thoughts and then mentally reached out, calling:

"Ixion. Will you aid us?"

Almost immediately all sound stilled and the room crackled with an otherworldly energy, lines of magic searing the air. With an intimidating stamp of a hoofed foot, the thunder-horse appeared. A scream from the monster directed at this new threat gave Auron just the chance he needed to strike at the feathered underbelly. Meanwhile the aeon gathered his energy and then released a sphere of raw electricity at the fiend. It fell to the floor, writhing in it's death throes as pyreflies fled to disappear in the air.

The silence was almost deafening as the comrades looked at each other across the circular room. Ixion had vanished after his massive attack, leaving no trace of his presence but a charred region of wall. Jecht stepped forward, a big grin on his face.

"Thanks Braska," He folded his muscled arms, "those aeons of yours are handy." Braska laughed. Then the floor collapsed from under them.