Saidan no Hitsuji

Chapter Seven:永遠の果てに (Eien no hate ni: At the End of Eternity)

By Seishuku Skuld (skuldchan@gmail.com)

SUMMON:

Artistic License!

Yup, that's right friends, I'm calling upon my omnipotent powers as writer here! **evil cackle**

Well, since Square is SO hetero-friendly, I changed some of the dialogue in this part, and some of what people were doing so as to be slightly more suggestive.

Okay, who am I fooling?

Blatantly suggestive! ^_^

So don't yell at me if you notice in the game that Jecht really wasn't holding Auron in that scene, or if you notice, "Hey, Jecht didn't say that, he said this (insert dialogue)!" If you do, I'll set my l33t Artistic License Aeon on you, and it will kick your @$$. **grins**

Poor Auron, I feel so bad for him in this chapter! **sniffles**

He loses his Jecht! **cry cry**

**pats her Chibi-Auron on head**

Anyhoo, enough of my rambling! On with the angst! ^_^

Stuff I listened to:

Hikaru no Go: Bokura no Bouken

Gackt: Mizerable

Malice Mizer: Beast of Blood

****

areru omoi dake ga

tanishiku setsunaku jikan o umezukusu

Oh Tell me why

All I see is blue in my heart

Will you stay with me

kaze ga sugi suru made

mata raretsu All my tears

Forever Love Forever Dream

Kono mama soba ni ite

mou dare yori mo soba ni

Only overflowing thoughts of love

Please bury all of the terrible, sorrowful time

Oh tell me why

All I see is blue in my heart

Will you stay with me

Until the winds pass

All my tears overflow again

Forever Love Forever Dream

Be with me this way

At this moment, more than anyone I want you with me

-X JAPAN: Forever Love

Our small party made its way through Zanarkand during the night, the little pyreflies flitting around us like stars in the night, guiding our path down the broken roadway, littered with fallen rubble. We traveled silently but swiftly, leaping over the cracks in our path, the old road winding ever deeper into the ruins of the once-great city.

Jecht gasped as we stepped up to a large building in front of us. It was almost completely destroyed, the once proud statues guarding its entrance but mere shapeless boulders. The great dome was gone, leaving jagged stone edges that shadowed the sky. Great pieces of the structure were missing, I suspected they were the piles of stone lying about the barren ground. "That's...the stadium..."

"What?" I frowned worriedly. Jecht had been very distracted most of the walk through Zanarkand, and I was starting to become anxious as well. Being silent and pensive was most unusual for Jecht's typically jocular manner, and what I needed most of all now was some his uplifting humor to cheer my spirits.

"This is...the stadium where I used to play Blitzball. Or it was."

"Oh," I responded quietly, taking Jecht's hand in mine. Jecht's ghosts still haunted him, all the things he'd never done, never had the chance to do, brought back to life by the sight of these ruins.

An old, bent priest walked out of the entrance of the destroyed stadium, pyreflies floating around his frail figure, a sure indication he was unsent.

"Journeyer of the long road," he said solemnly in an unearthly voice, "name yourself."

Braska stepped forward and bowed. "I am the summoner Braska, I come from Bevelle Temple."

"Come forward," the old man beckoned to him with a transparent hand. "Your eyes, show me the long journey you have traveled."

After gazing into Braska's eyes for a long moment, he finally nodded. "Very good. You have journeyed well. Lady Yunalesca will surely welcome your arrival."

My eyebrows arched at the name. Lady Yunalesca, the first summoner who defeated Sin with the Final Aeon one thousand years ago. Braska and I looked at each other. How could she still be alive? I figured she must be unsent as well, like that old priest. Two unsents, guarding the Final Aeon?

"Go to her now," the old priest motioned us in, "and take your guardians with you."

"Thank you," Braska bowed to the old priest as he disappeared, dissolving into tiny pinpoints of light. Braska raised his head to look up at the crumbling building looming far above us.

"Ready?" he asked.

"We are with you," I nodded in reply. Braska sighed and walked past the threshold. This was where he would receive the Final Aeon that would defeat Sin; just a step away from his own death.

We continued through the ruins silently, watching past memories played before us, previous summoners and their guardians in that very same place years before. They were all eager, eager to give their lives for Spira. Some of the dialogue I hadn't understood, however, something about the fayth and the Final Aeon. That was strange, what little they had said about those two things hadn't made any sense to me.

That place was mysterious, dark and quiet, inhabited by old fragments of memories and the unsent dead. Those were things I didn't like at all, and served only to unnerve me. The old priest was a fiend, his fragile body made only of his memories and the ubiquitous pyreflies. Lady Yunalesca probably wouldn't be much more substantial than he. I hoped when this was all over I wouldn't be seeing them again. Dealing with the dead was disconcerting business.

I was starting to have second thoughts about Braska as we traversed the ruinous dome. No matter how much I'd thought about it before, nothing would prepare me for Braska's death. There had to have been some way to prevent it. There had to be another way to defeat Sin. I could not believe that it was so powerful, what was so special about the Final Aeon anyway? Why did Braska have to die?

I looked to Jecht, my brow furrowed in thought. I wondered if he was thinking the same.

He nodded to me, a small smile on his face. We would try to persuade Braska to give up. We were approaching the Cloister of Trials, after that point there would be no more turning. We had to plead to Braska one more time, we had to save him.

"Hey Braska," Jecht said, "you don't have to do this."

Braska, walking a head us, paused in mid-step. "Thank you for your concern." The gravity of his tone of voice told us he would not be dissuaded. Not when he was this close.

Jecht sighed. "Fine, I've said my piece."

"Well," I protested, upset that Jecht would have given up so easily, "I haven't!" It was already so close, this was Braska's last chance to turn away. I could see his resolve waver as I begged him to reconsider. All I had to do was urge him beyond that initial hesitation. He cared for me, he cared for Jecht and his little daughter Yuna; did he really want to see us alone in the world without him? Would he really leave his two dearest friends and an orphaned daughter?

"Braska! Let's go back! I don't..." I clenched my fists, unable to accept the fact that Braska would be dying. No, I couldn't be. I didn't care if Jecht was with me, I didn't want to see him die. I couldn't stand by doing nothing and watching him give his life. Then I wouldn't be doing my part as friend and guardian. It was a horrible stroke of irony that I would protect him on the pilgrimage throughout Spira, only to seal his death here, at the final destination. It was ludicrous. "I don't...I don't want to see you die!"

"But you knew this would happen, my dear friend," Braska turned and faced me now, sadness in his eyes. It was a sadness that we, Jecht and I, wanted to erase forever from him.

"Yes," I murmured, "but I cannot accept it. I still cannot." I wanted to embrace him, and take him far, far away from this place.

Braska chuckled. "You're still such a child, Auron." Jecht smiled too, touching me lightly on the shoulder, telling me he was there for me. But I didn't want just that, I wanted him and Braska. I wanted everything, I wanted everything to be fine again, I wanted Sin to go away and leave us alone, I wanted to live together with my lover and my friend. Was that too much to ask for? Was it wrong to ask that someone else die in Braska's stead? Was it selfish and childish? Was I wrong to question the teachings of Yevon? Was it right for the summoners to die and give hope to Spira?

"Auron," he walked to me, suddenly hugging me and holding me close. "Auron, I'm honored that you care so much for me. But I have come to kill grief itself." He backed away, looking me in the eye. There was so much sadness and sorrow in his eyes. He was killing Spira's grief, and his own as well. That made my heart clench and my breath catch. Braska was as keen on saving Spira was he was on killing himself.

"I will defeat Sin and lift the veil of suffering covering Spira. Please understand, Auron."

"Yes, Braska." He would not give up his pilgrimage. I saw now what a burden life was to him, without his beloved wife. It was painful without her, and he bled so much that not even his friends and his daughter would staunch the wound.

Braska walked resolutely through the Cloister of Trials, making short work of the complicated floor puzzle. We finally approached the Chamber of the Fayth, where a huge stone statue buried in the ground waited for us. The Final Aeon?

"Where's the fayth?" Braska wondered. We stared at the body buried beneath the glass dome. It was dark and cold, bereft of life.

"That statue no longer has the power for a fayth." I looked up, the voice belonged to the old priest that had greeted us at the gate. He still had those horrifying pyreflies swimming about him.

"It was Lord Zaon, the first fayth of the Final Summoning," the priest continued. "All you see now is his remains; he has passed on."

"What?" I exclaimed, my eyes widening. No, it couldn't be. The teachings of Yevon said that there was a Final Aeon that would defeat Sin. A Final Summoning waiting in Zanarkand for the journeying summoner. If Lord Zaon was gone, then there was no Final Aeon. Perhaps, my feverish mind thought, it was Yunalesca. I held onto that shred of hope, else all would be futile.

"What do you mean there's no Final Aeon?" Jecht crossed his arms, demanding an explanation.

"Do not be alarmed," the dead priest raised a hand to silence Jecht. "Lady Yunalesca will show you how to obtain the Final Aeon. It will be yours if the summoner and Aeon join powers. The Lady awaits inside." He gestured to the wall behind him, which suddenly dissolved into a portal of blue energy. "Go to her," he said before disappearing again.

Braska, Jecht, and I looked at each other, speechless. Our world had just been turned upside-down. No Final Aeon? Yet, there was a way to obtain it? How could that happen, I wondered.

We approached the blue barrier cautiously, not knowing what lied beyond, except for a certain Lady Yunalesca of legend. I volunteered to go in first. "I will go first, to protect Braska in case."

The room beyond held a tall staircase arrayed in fine red velvet lined in gold, undamaged, unsoiled by age or the smashed building in which it resided. A thousand pyreflies floated in the room, grotesque reminders of this city of the dead. They floated like waxless candles, whispering their memories and twisting my stomach. This whole city was in decay. Its people were dead, its pyreflies held memories of the dead, and here Braska was going to obtain the Final Aeon, which would kill him. I would have laughed bitterly if it had not been that Yunalesca appeared just then.

She was tall and slim, scantily clad but with an ethereal beauty about her. She was semi-transparent, the wild colors of her pyreflies floating about giving her a sort of quiet and reserved wisdom. The wisdom of one thousand years in dead Zanarkand, waiting for each summoner.

"Welcome to Zanarkand, Braska of Bevelle." Her voice was deep for a woman, it was silky and smooth, gliding from one word to the next. It was cunning, hid many memories and many secrets.

"I congratulate you on your journey, it is now almost complete. I will now bestow upon you the Final Aeon. But you must choose," then she gestured casually to Jecht and me, "which will I change to become the fayth for the Final Summoning."

We all gasped, a horrified look on our faces. This was unthinkable. Not ever had the writings or teachings ever spoken of such a thing. My mind froze as I strove to contemplate, digest the meaning of her words. The repercussions of what she just said presented itself in a vast tapestry of blurred images and feelings. I tried my best to sort them out.

Yunalesca continued to descend from the stairs, her long silver hair trailing like a ghost behind her, barely touching the velvet below her unclad feet. "There must be a bond between the summoner and his chosen, that is the essence of the Final Summoning. The bond between husband and wife, mother and child, or two dear friends. If the strength of that bond holds, its light will conquer Sin."

I shook my head at her words, their significance slowly dawning upon me. Out of this building only one person would walk out alive: one doomed to die, and one to guard him. As for the other, he would be left here, his soul becoming a fayth. That meant...I paused, unable to continue my thought. It meant only one thing. My dreams shattered then, and I was numb to the drone of the rest of Yunalesca's words. They meant nothing to me, drifting out of reach as I stared in horror at my broken dreams.

Jecht and I could not live together. One of us would die for Braska, and the other would be left alone again. That horrible dark abyss which Jecht and I had helped each other out of. I thought I couldn't live if I lost Braska. I was wrong. I knew I couldn't live without Jecht.

"Death is the ultimate and final liberation," Yunalesca purred, finishing her sentence. She smiled at us, the kind of smile that defies death, destroys its meaning. The kind of smile that welcomes it with open arms.

"What happens if I defeat Sin with the Final Aeon?" Braska asked quietly. He needed to know his pilgrimage had some meaning. That he wouldn't be throwing two lives away for futility. He'd thought he was the one giving his life, he could face that. But the reality that he was asking for another life was almost too much for him. The sorrows of Spira he could bear, his own sorrows he could bear, but not the blood of his friends on his hands. He would try, nevertheless, if it would cure Spira. He would ask for anything for Spira. "Will Sin return?"

"Of course," Yunalesca replied, she lifted her arms in a horrid mockery of prayer. "Sin is eternal, everlasting. Sin is Spira's destiny, there is no Spira without Sin. Every aeon that defeats Sin becomes it in its place; this is Sin's rebirth."

"No!" I found my voice, a suddenly anger broiling inside me. I had been fooled, we all had been fooled since childhood. Braska went on this pilgrimage to save Spira, not give his life for some few years of Calm. He went on this pilgrimage knowing he was the only one who would be dying. Would he have done this if he knew he'd be asking for another life? I would have gladly given my life for Spira as well, if it destroyed Sin forever. But Yunalesca had just told us that Sin was eternal, it always came back. It was a macabre circle of death that was being perpetuated, had been perpetuated for a thousand years. It was all a lie, a cover-up for the truth. We had been living a lie for the past months, Spira had been living a lie for a thousand years.

"It's not too late! Let's go back," I finally spoke. My turbulent thoughts rose inside me, and giving me strength. I would not let this continue, this farce of a ritual. Never. Not if I still had breath in my body.

"If I turn back," Braska began quietly, his voice shaking with emotion. It poured out of him, cracking his voice, clenching his fists, coming as tears out of his eyes, "who will defeat Sin? Would you have some other summoner and his guardians die in my stead? Would you have the people of Spira wait while Sin ravaged their villages? Would you have more innocents die?"

"But there must be some other way!" I couldn't let Braska die. I wouldn't let him sacrifice himself for just a few years of the Calm. I wouldn't let him die for this stupid, artificial ceremony.

"Auron," Jecht spoke quietly, "this is the only way we got now."

I looked to him, alarmed. I stopped breathing. I thought Jecht would be on my side. We thought the same things, we thought the same way. Why wasn't he on my side? Why didn't he believe me?

"Fine," he continued resolutely. "Make me the fayth. I've been doing some thinking. I've left my dream in the old Zanarkand. I wanted to make my son into a star blitz player, but you know, that's past now. I wanted to live with you, Auron, I wanted to see Spira happy and carefree, no more pain. No more pain for Braska, you, or me. I wanted to erase suffering from your life. But that's not going to come true either."

"No, Jecht!" I cried out, gripping his arms, shaking him, trying to make him see. It was futile, it was stupid, it was silly, it was false! It was a blatant lie! Why didn't he see it? Why didn't it anger him? Why did he want to give his life? Why was he leaving me?

"I can't live without you," I felt hot tears welling, and they spilled out at my outburst. They burned their way down my cheeks, their anger consuming me. Why? Why did it have to be like this? I wasn't going to let Jecht die. We were going to live together. Why did he stop believing?

"Make me the fayth, Braska," he said, tearing his gaze from me in a way that wrenched my heart to shreds. "I'll fight Sin with you, Braska. Then my life will have meaning."

"What are you talking about? Don't do this, Jecht!" I continued to plead, feeling my shattered reality creeping up on me by every passing moment. "If you die...I won't...there must be some other way!"

"Believe me," Jecht said quietly, his fingers stroking my cheek, "I've thought this through already." He gazed at me with liquid brown eyes, pools of sadness and regret. His dream would never come true, and neither would mine. There would be no raising Yuna in Besaid together. Until the end of eternity, I just saw me, alone and broken, without the two men I'd ever truly loved. "Besides," he smiled lopsidedly, his lips twitching a bit like he too was holding back tears, "I ain't getting any younger, so I might as well make myself useful."

"It's not about that," I whispered back, closing my eyes. In this situation, he was still trying to be funny. In the face of all that was ahead of me, I couldn't find it in myself to appreciate his humour. "I can't...I don't..."

"Do me one last favor, Auron."

"Anything."

"Please take care of my son, Tidus, in Zanarkand. He's such a crybaby, he needs you there to hold his hand. Please promise this one last thing."

"I can't," it was so simple.

"Dammit, promise me, you fool. I'm going to die anyway, whether you promise or not."

I shook my head at those words. The first time he said it, the first time any of us had said that someone was going to die. It was always in the background of our thoughts, of course, but no one us had dared ventured to say it. Not even when Yunalesca had shaken our dreams and broken our reality.

"Promise me, you idiot!" Jecht's hands dug into my shoulders, twin hammers of pain that shot through my body. I relished every moment of it, his parting gift.

"How will I find my way to Zanarkand?"

"You just said there was a way, you'll find it," his words were cold, distant. As if he was already dying and I was already losing him.

"I promise," I moved my lips, barely a whisper escaped. With that, I was defeated. Braska was intent on saving Spira, and Jecht believed in him.

He took me in his arms, and held me tight, a fierce hug that was our last. I wanted that moment to last forever. I wanted my broken, ruined dreams back. I wanted this all to be a nightmare. I wanted to wake up. But I wasn't going to.

"Hey," Jecht cupped my chin his hand, "I'm doing this for you too, Auron. Because I don't want you to die. I want to see you live in a happy Spira."

"I can't be happy without you." It was a simple statement, a simple thought. After Braska, there was Jecht. And after Jecht, an empty universe. That was all.

"Auron...please believe me. Please believe that I..." and he bent down a placed a soft kiss on my lips. I tasted the salt of our mingled tears in that kiss. "I love you."

"Jecht," Braska whispered, turning his head away from us, and our parting. It was too painful for him to see.

"Are you going to stop me, Braska?"

"Sorry. I just meant...thank you."

Jecht pulled away from me, pushed me from him. "Braska still has to fight Sin, Auron. Guard him well, make sure he gets there. Braska, let's go."

He turned away from me, and walked to the doors where Yunalesca was waiting. She led them inside and they slammed shut with a resounding boom. I stood rooted to the spot, shocked, watching my lover go to his death. I thought I'd never lose him. I thought we'd be together forever. I sank to my knees as the door closed, I was left outside with naught but the lights of the pyreflies for company. They, at least, would remember what had passed here. I willed them to. I willed them never to forget.

I sat myself down on the soft, lush red velvet. A red carpet to Jecht's death. I laughed bitterly, tears streaming down my face. I hoped this was a bad dream, that I'd awake and Jecht would be beside me, teasing me for my nightmare. But I wouldn't wake up, I knew. And Jecht would never be with me again.

I sat there for who knows how long, my head in my hands, my mind wandering to Yunalesca's words, Braska and I as children, the few passionate moments that Jecht and I had shared, the joke that was Spira's entire religious foundation and history.

It was painful, it was a blazing knife slicing me apart. A morbid reality that didn't belong. I lost Jecht, watched him go to his death. Braska was doomed, he'd killed himself as surely as Jecht was dying in the room beyond me. I didn't move. Jecht was dying so close to me, and I refused to budge. My spirit was a leaden weight, and I had not the strength to move it.

I looked up when Braska finally emerged from the doorway, looking weary, and like he'd seen all the sadness in the world thrice over. He collapsed to the carpet, and would have fallen over had I not rushed to him.

"It is done," he said simply and put his arms around me, tired, weary, drained.

I closed my eyes and tried to shut out the pain his words had caused me. It didn't work, and the sadness, the irony, the suffering came in a large tidal wave, rearing its ugly head high, roaring its challenge, and washing over us both, drowning us.

Braska and I clung to each other and sobbed, cruel fate ripping our gasping breaths from our frail bodies, crushing our spirits. I wept for my lost lover, my lost world, and the end of my eternal dream.