Author's Note: I own neither the characters nor the world, and I earn nothing but personal satisfaction from my writing. Please don't sue me, I have no money.

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"We made it, Lady Yocun." Rylen had to pause and brace his hand against the temple wall, breathing deeply of the thin air. Yocun didn't weigh much, but even so, having to support her up half Mt. Gagazet and fight off fiends had taken a toll on him. Now she couldn't even hold herself upright, her head lolling on his shoulder. She'd stopped shivering half an hour ago as they struggled to navigate the torturous puzzle that guarded the chamber of the Fayth here in Zanarkand, and she'd run out of energy for her white magic halfway through the battle with the specter that led downward. Their journey had taken a lot out of her.

"Can't," she mumbled. Rylen knelt, easing her down into a sitting position with her back braced against the wall. He rummaged in his pack until he found a few Hi-Potions, the very last of their dwindling stock. He wished he'd bought more when they stopped in the Ronso village at the base of the mountain, but now wasn't the time for idle regrets.

She tried to turn away from him, but it was a feeble effort at best. He poured the contents of two Hi-Potions down her throat, and she choked and sputtered and slapped at him, but colour was returning to her face. He kept the third for himself, swallowing its contents in two quick gulps. He felt the cool tingle spread down his throat and out, knitting the worst wounds he'd taken on their trip up this Yevon-forsaken mountain.

"Shouldn't have used those," she murmured, curling up into a ball. "We'll need them to go back down."

"Don't worry about that now." He put an arm around her. "Relax for a little while. You need to be at your best before you pray to the fayth."

She snuggled close, curling her arms around his neck. He smoothed her dark hair gently, long slow strokes from the crown of her head down to where the ends of the strands curled against her waist. She felt fragile under his hands. When they had set out to sail to Besaid from their home near the Moonflow, he hadn't been able to feel each of the indentations between her ribs.

A summoner's journey was hard and most often deadly. They had known that setting out. But the number of graves they'd found along the path on Mt. Gagazet had been startling. Each one struck Yocun like a blow. She had insisted on pausing to pray for each of the fallen summoners, performing the sending ritual just in case. And each time, her expression had gotten tighter, her shoulders had slumped a bit more.

Now they were here, at the last temple, and he could see the weight of Spira's expectations pressing down on her. When they boarded the shoopuf that would take them down the Moonflow, she had stood straight and tall, smiling easily at the people who clustered around her for a blessing. But the more they traveled, the more she withdrew into herself, and the harder it seemed for her to place one foot in front of the other.

"We could go back," he said quietly. "Go home, or anywhere. You don't need to do this."

"If not me, then who?" she asked. She pulled away from him, smiling faintly. "I'm all right."

"All right." He stood up, shifting the weight of the pack into a more comfortable arrangement and offered a hand to her. Yocun rose gracefully, brushing at the dust on her skirt. She straightened her shoulders, looking more alert than she had since Djose, and turned toward the statue of the fayth at the other end of the chamber.

"No!" She wrapped her arms around herself, a look of sick horror on her face.

"Yocun?" He took two steps forward, unsheathing his sword.

"The statue. There's no fayth here!"

"What?" Even as he asked it, he realized that this chamber was eerily silent. The chamber of the Fayth in each temple had echoed with that fayth's singing. He'd been too focused on his summoner before to realize that.

"All for nothing? Has this all been for nothing?" Yocun was weeping, her hands clenched into fists and pressed against her stomach as though to hold in her grief and frustration. He walked to her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. Over her bent head, he could see the dull grey stone of the statue, and beyond it, an open door. If he concentrated, he could hear a faint humming.

"Yocun, wait. Listen." She raised her head, frowning, and then her eyes widened as she heard it too.

"But where...?" She turned and saw the door. Brushing the tears from her face, she clutched her staff and started forward. He followed her, sword at the ready. Beyond the door was a long flight of stone stairs covered with a threadbare carpet, dusty and worn at the edges.

"Come forward, summoner." The cool voice came from above them.

Yocun startled and gripped her staff tighter. Rylen stepped ahead of her, heading up the stairs first, alert for fiends.

The stairs led to a vast stone platform, crumbling at the edges. At the far end was a graceful, slim woman with silver hair. She walked forward, inclining her head to Yocun. "Welcome, summoner. I am Yunalesca, and you have come for the Final Aeon."

Yocun made the gesture of prayer, as did Rylen. "Greetings, Lady Yunalesca. My name is Yocun."

"And this is?" Yunalesca smiled, turning toward Rylen.

Rylen bowed. "My name is Rylen, and I guard the Lady Yocun."

Yunalesca turned back toward Yocun. "And shall he be your Final Aeon? The one who will defeat, and then become, Sin?"

"What?" Yocun stumbled back a step and Rylen threw his arm out to stop her from stumbling off the edge of the stairs, staring at the First Summoner in shock.

"The Final Aeon defeats Sin, and later becomes Sin," Yunalesca repeated.

"But...but then what's the point? Can't Sin ever be destroyed?" Yocun cried.

"Sin cannot be destroyed, but when the Calm comes, the people gain hope. Isn't that enough?" Yunalesca shrugged.

Yocun turned to stare at him, and Rylen looked back at her. "I will do as you ask, Lady Yocun," he said quietly. "I will be your Aeon, or I will take you home and we can live our lives in peace. It is up to you."

She hesitated, biting her lip, then took a deep breath and turned back to the woman watching them with curiosity. "It is enough. Lady Yunalesca, please, give me the Final Aeon."

Later, when her power tangled with Sin's and agony flashed along her nerves and she felt Rylen being torn away from her, swirling in the vortex of summoning magic as she and Sin destroyed each other, she thought of the Calm, and the time the people would have to raise their children and laugh and love without the everpresent threat of Sin's destruction.

It was enough.