He knows they will fail.
The Crusaders and Al Bhed busying themselves all over the place will soon need to be Sent. Auron supposes that is a cold thing to think but the tired old metaphor he uses for lives is true in this case too. For the various nameless faces about him, it is the End.
He hopes Tidus is strong enough for it. He hopes Yuna will see.
"Will Sin come?"
Her question is the least idiotic one he has heard all day. Yuna's sense of perception is slowly peeking out from underneath the protocol that all of Spira appeases. Speak not unless spoken to. Wait for the spiral. The matter-of-fact answers she receives make him want to snarl his lip.
But then they do not know. They cannot see.
Will Jecht come to see his son?
Tidus must be brave and know. Yuna will see and dance that dance she always does. He has become fond of the way she Sends. She is wind and freeform movement; the clouds after the storm, just wisps of their former selves.
---
The thunder that surrounds the return of Jecht is an irony. Or maybe there is some of Braska in there too.
He watches her blue eye go grey. Her hand covers her mouth. She will not cry even though she wants to. He only briefly watches the onslaught; just enough to say hello. He waits for the flicker of lightning reflected on Yuna's face. Is there understanding?
Then, as an afterthought he notices the others. They are all spellbound.
---
Auron can tell she has seen.
He does not like the son of the Guado. Yuna tried to summon but he was resistant. She sees a little, knowing that the answer lies within her gift. He could feel the hum of those that are dreaming as she spoke; however desperate. But the son of the Guado was resistant.
He will keep his eye on that one.
Now Yuna is dancing and he can see the dim in her face. She will continue the pilgrimage. She will be set to learn her own answers. She does not voice her unease with the corruption that is slowly unfolding but she can see it. The presence of the Guado and the polite unease in her expression was a start.
Watching her dance on a dead beach is the real beginning.