17th March, 2007

Day 57, Year 8 of Braska's Calm: Macalania Temple

I keep waking in the night expecting to see my nails have turned to ice, and my hair snow-white like the moon. Who was she? Vanity, arrogant vanity, that I could...

No, I won't waste oil. I'm awake. Lady Ginnem sleeps the honorable sleep of a Summoner wearied from her labors. Here is our day's work.

The Cloisters of Malacalania are different: they seem designed to cage Summoner and Guardian within the Fayth's lair. Paths appear and disappear, and one must take great care on slick footing, for there are several steep drops. Feet slip on ice when pushing and pulling the pedestals that open the barriers. I will have to come back here to enter these Cloisters again for study, if I am allowed. I should like to know what magic it is that can hold and dissipate solid masses of ice without the will of a spell behind it.

Fayth take the shapes of birds, beasts, wild creatures bearing little resemblance to human forms. What, then, is Shiva? I suppose she may have been a very different woman, but she remains woman. More, she is aware. No, I do not mean the other Aeons are mindless. But this one— her eyes were sharp and lucid, almost amused, sizing up my Lady during the Summoning ritual following the Trial. For a moment I thought I might have to defend Ginnem.

That battle I would lose. Ixion's power extends as far as the fringes of his Temple, causing the Lightning Rocks to rise, but Shiva freezes a lake, half a forest. She descended before us with the lazy assurance of a snowflake settling, but she gave a small demonstration of her power, shattering a fleeting lake of ice with a mere snap of her fingers.

I wonder if she retains the power of speech.

With the aid of four Aeons, especially this one, we shall be fortified for the greater trials of the Calm Lands. For this is our last Temple. We retrace our steps as far as the cross-roads to Bevelle, then we head north.

I wish there were some way to send a message to Chappu, but the Guado do not go farther than Luca, and there is little to say save that we have made progress. He will worry. He'll not let it throw off his game, however; he's a buoyant soul who doesn't waste time fretting on what one can't change. Wakka will be doting on him in his well-meaning way; I'm sure I'll hear Chappu's long-suffering tales of his overprotective brother when I get back.

I wonder how Yuna is coming in her training. Are the priests pushing her too hard? Or, more likely, is she pushing herself? Has she learned that healing spell she was trying to coax Father Turan to teach her? Seeing the Aeon beside Ginnem today made me think of her. What if she should prove prodigy, and enter the Cloisters of the temple before I return?

Kimahri will guard her. I should be there, but I trust him. An irony, that. I was suspicious of him when he first brought Yuna to Besaid; he looked too much like a fiend!

My fingers are numb. We will have to try and find the fiend from which came Lady Ginnem's Fire Gems. We will need many, many more for Mt. Gagazet. She said it's one native to the Calm Lands. I hope it's not one of the hard-shells.





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27th February, 2007

Day 56, Year 8 of Braska's Calm: Lake Macalania

Well, we've had some adventures. I confess that there were times during these last two days when visions of Chappu swam before my eyes. If I died out here, he would never forgive me!

We started out yesterday under a brisk, bright blue sky. The snow was dazzling. The sun kept our faces warm, but after a few hours we were stumbling from numbed feet. Lady Ginnem brought out a few precious items she had been saving for Gagazet: Fire Gems, torn from the heart of a type of Flan she says is native to the Calm Lands. The gems are warm to the touch. One tucked in the toe of each shoe helped cut the cold.

Our progress was slowed, of course, by fiends. I have compiled notes on them at the end of this entry, supplemented from Macalania Temple's archives. The hard-shells proved especially frustrating; I still haven't found a spell to crack them, so we are forever calling up Ifrit to smash them. Flans here are tough as well, although fire will eventually wear them down.

The worst menace proved to be the wolves, of all things. These are hardier than our island scavengers and sometimes hunt in packs. That nearly proved our undoing. It happened so quickly! One bowled me over and bit Ginnem; she collapsed instantly. Suddenly I found myself fighting for both our lives. That Fury I have been trying to master saved us both, but it was a near thing. At the end of it I was standing in a puddle of melted icewater with my foes' ghost-lights rising around me, and Ginnem sleeping peacefully through it all. It took me some time to rouse her.

After that, nothing seemed to go well. The sky clouded over, and the temperature plunged. A biting wind began. Thankfully we had already crossed the lake, so the walls of the crevasse beyond it shielded us a little, but then the snow came with all the fury of Besaid's winter monsoons. Vindus did not exaggerate. Soon we were clinging to each other's hands and pressing forward through utter whiteness that sapped every bit of heat from our limbs. If another pack of wolves had found us then, I'm sure we would have made a swift meal.

We could no longer see the way, and there was a terrible drop to our right. Lady Ginnem remained calm, but most of her steadying words were snatched away by the blast. Finally, in stubborn desperation, I tried to melt a cave for us in the ice-wall beside the path. My powers were not up to the task, but Ginnem suddenly had an idea. She summoned Ifrit to help. I don't know how she is able to communicate with the beast, but he tore a great slab of ice and rock from the earth and leaned it against the cliff over the hollow formed by my feeble magics. We crawled underneath. Then she commanded me to <I>make</I> ice instead of trying to fight the elements, and seal off both ends of the makeshift shelter against the storm. I expended the last of my energy walling us in, with just a few chinks left at the top for air. I do not remember falling asleep. The last of Ginnem's fire marbles kept us alive through a long, frigid night.

The next morning I was awakened by a terrible growling noise outside. I found Ginnem unconscious beside me, our two cloaks wrapped around both of us for warmth. When I heard the sound of something hacking away at the ice, I braced myself for battle without much hope. But no! It was Vindus! He had come looking for us.

He seemed at least somewhat impressed by the ingenuity of our shelter, although he scolded me for not taking his warning more seriously. "I lose a lot of repeat customers this way," he said. "Bad for business." He gave each of us a restorative drink -- Ginnem permitted that much, although she would not let him cook for us over a small machina oven he had brought along -- and offered to drive us the rest of the way to the temple. He was riding an Al Bhed contraption that sailed over the snow like a canoe. That, too, my lady refused with utmost tact: a Summoner must journey on her own two feet, she said, to train herself for the mountain crossing. Of course, it would also be a terrible violation of the Teachings for us to be ferried to the temple by an Al Bhed, but we did not tell him that. So Vindus pointed us on our way and left us there after extracting a promise that we "pretty ladies" would stay a night on our way back. Old flatterer. Lady Ginnem teased me about using womanly wiles to further our journey. To my shame, I was a little sharp with her. It had been a long night.

We reached the temple after a half day's march through fresh white drifts that seemed to drag at our legs like iron boots. An encounter with one of those winged one-eyed monstrosities left my head spinning -- I think some Fiends must have a touch of Sin's toxin about them, although thankfully the effects wear off quickly -- but at long last we saw the banners of Yevon flying proudly over the temple gates.

Kimahri is right. Snow burns. The temple priests treated both of us for numbed hands, feet, and noses that had gone white. After a late midday meal, both of us slept until evening, too late to attempt the Cloisters today.

Even the temple feels cold.


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21st February, 2007

Day 54, Year 8 of Braska's Calm: Of Summoners Past

Enchanting. Perilous. Mysterious. The trees of Macalania will haunt my dreams now, I believe. There is something intoxicating about a place where magic seems to have shaped itself into living, tangible forms. And like magic, it can seduce or overwhelm you, or devour you.

We had just grown accustomed to the rhythms of this cold and dangerous wood when we came to the end of it. It's just as well. Our Aeons were spent and my magics drained, for the clawed and fanged beasts of Macalania are deadly. At least my love of lightning came in handy.

We were stumbling gladly towards the promising gleam of distant lights, yet another Al Bhed agency, when the trees thinned out. A coarse, cold crust lying upon the ground began to crunch beneath our boots. I knelt, touched, tasted it. For five years now I have wielded with unsteady skill an element I have never seen. Now, at last, I have trodden upon it, felt my cheeks burned by tiny invisible ice-needles blown off the distant lake. The strength of snow is not the burning flash of fire or lightning. Its power is inexorable, unseen. I can feel it now like the weight of stone or the massive depths of sea. Chill steals in, muscles cramp and stiffen, and sooner or later one becomes as immobile as the dead trees encased in ice at the fringes of the forest.

Again, I was reminded of Kimahri. I can well imagine him striding across this frigid landscape, where all is shrouded in scalloped waves of white. It is a lonely land where silence reigns and even water ceases to speak. However, it was not a Ronso that greeted us here.

We were hurrying towards the Inn when the most unlikely of figures appeared upon a blue snowbank: Lady Belgemine! Who is she? She challenged Ginnem to a duel on the spot. My protests again were brushed aside: great challenges, Belgemine said, do not wait for a well-rested Summoner. She is right, but I still do not trust her. She restored Ixion before the battle began -- we had to rely on him often today against the water fiends, to conserve my magic -- but her Valefor still flew circles around him. I was terrified when he dropped to his knees. I would have tried to save him with a lightning bolt, had Ginnem not stopped me. She assured me he would recover by tomorrow morning. (I suppose it makes sense; the spirits of the dead cannot die twice!) Afterwards, rather than accompanying us to the Inn, Belgemine insisted on discussing Ginnem's progress right there in the snow while the shadows lengthened.

This sat ill with me. I kept guard and heard the distant sounds of beast and bird howling from the forest. But nothing troubled the Summoners' consultation, and at length we parted ways. Once we reached the Inn, my lady went straight to bed with barely a bite of supper.

After a blissfully hot bath, I found myself restless and slipped out to the lobby to rebraid my hair. To my surprise and his, I had a long chat with the proprietor. He was not the famous Mister Rin -- I have yet to meet the man, although his name seems to be everywhere in Spira -- but an old man by the name of Vindus. He said the last "Yevon" who talked to him for any length of time was Braska, and "that didn't count, as he's one of us." A disturbing reminder, but for Yuna's sake I plied him with questions. I'm sure she'd like news of her father.

Unfortunately there was little the innkeep could tell me. Seven years ago, Lord Braska and his two Guardians came stumbling into his lobby after dark, after a fight with a "four-arm giant" that Vindus described in a bewildering mixture of Al Bhed and common. Apparently it had been menacing pilgrims for some time and cutting into business. I think we may be glad that Braska's party dispatched the creature; it sounds like something more a match for Ifrit than for my spells.

The "leatherhide" Guardian had many broken bones, and Braska's spells were spent, so they availed themselves of some Al Bhed remedies. Vindus laughed in his beard, describing how the "leatherhide" had grumbled and growled while taking his medicine. It sounds as if Sir Auron was not comfortable being aided by heathens. I gather that Sir Jecht was far more open-minded and didn't seem like a "Yevon" at all. Interesting. Yuna has told me some odd stories about the man; I wonder if he was really an Al Bhed whose memory was taken by Sin?

So, after causing a commotion in the common room, our High Summoner and his companions retired early and left at dawn. Apparently one of them had a sphere camera with him. Vindus said they posed outside in front of his sign, and he was very disappointed when I said no recordings of their pilgrimage have survived. I think he was hoping to use it for advertising.

Thus we follow in Lord Braska's footsteps, and I pray to Yevon that we may fare as well. We should reach the temple tomorrow if we press our pace. We shall have to be careful; Vindus thinks a weather front is moving into the area. We do not want to be caught beyond the lake, where he says there are great cracks in the ice. His description of "snow-blind" blizzards is sobering.


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20th February, 2007

Day 52, Year 8 of Braska's Calm: Macalania Forest

It feels comfortable to be back on the pilgrimage, outside of walls and squares and the great city's arteries. I had not realized how much I was missing the living breath of trees and the drip of water.

Macalania Forest is breathtaking, if chilly. By day, the wood glistens with green and blue lichens and mosses, and everything seems to be coated in a glowing fog. Countless butterflies flit between the boles. At sunset a different world unfolds. Huge crystal trees shine in the darkness. Their fruits are giant golden-brown spheres radiant with iridescent colors that shine overhead like huge paper lanterns. Scattered pools pulse with raw energy, as if they, too, were partly composed of pyreflies. Strangest of all, when the moon rises, some of the fruit-pods exude wispy ribbons of pollen that are solid enough to bear weight, although they yield underfoot. I think they may be a form of pyreflies as well, like those that form the bodies of Fiends.

If traveller's tales prove true, tomorrow I may have my first taste of real snow. I tried to ask Kimahri what snow was like before I left, but all he said was, "Burns toes." I suppose he meant that it can deaden extremities; I've had a few accidents while trying to master cold spells.

Oh, I miss our stalwart Ronso, far more than I suspected I would. I miss all of them, of course. But Kimahri's blunt speech and trusty strength would be an especial comfort right now. I do not think that Besaid realizes what a treasure he is, how much they owe to his vigilance in keeping Fiends away from the village. I remember the days before he and Yuna came to us, when one had to go out with the Crusaders before dawn if one had business on the beach, and come back with them at sunset. I think he is worth ten Crusaders.

In lieu of a Ronso warrior, Ginnem and I have started to rely heavily on her Aeons. I will feel more secure once she has another. We've faced several dangerous run-ins with Fiends, including a Chimaera that singed both of us badly before Ifrit pounded it into oblivion. There's also a species of lizard that's fast enough to dodge the brunt of my spells; thank goodness Valefor is faster. My lady is quite spent from all the Summoning she did today. We've found a secure perch up in the trees, nestled in the broken shell of one of those great flowers, but I will not sleep easily tonight. In fact, I'm going to try not to sleep at all. Valefor is on watch with me. We can share Ginnem's shift.

These long nights, with the Aeons hovering overhead watchful and silent, I cannot help but wonder about them. What do they see? What are they thinking? Do they remember all their Summoners, all their journeys? They are eternal, yet paradoxically ephemeral. They seem sentient, yet they also seem like Fiends themselves. Perhaps that is what they are, exalted by Yevon instead of accursed by Sin.






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18th February, 2007

(Author's Note: About images)

(Author's Note:

I shoulda posted this before, but just to be clear: designs and original screencaps of Spira are solely the property of Square-Enix. Most of them are taken from here, and I suspect they're scans from an Ultimania guide.

I have extensively photomanipped several recent ones to try and mimic manuscripts or hand-drawn illuminations, so blame any mess on me.)


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18th February, 2007

Day 50, Year 8 of Braska's Calm: Still in Bevelle

It's blasphemy to think ill of the High Priest of Bevelle, but at present I am seething. I will have to atone at the temple before we leave, but I can't help yearning to use his bald head for target practice right now!

The festival is over. The last of the flowers, ribbons, and lost belongings have been cleared away. Bevelle has returned to its usual bustle of services in the temples and haggling in the squares.

Yesterday, we still had no word from the temple, although the sanctuary priest had promised to send an acolyte around to Kano's house to summon us when the Cloisters were open again. So Lady Ginnem and I paid a visit to offer our respects and learn the reason for the delay. While we were praying in the sanctuary, we saw a Summoner party exiting the Cloisters. (They looked shaken and dazed -- I don't think their attempt was successful.)

Ginnem was far more tactful than I would have been. The on-duty priest was courteous but curt, explaining that her application to Yevon for access to the inner cloisters had been denied.

Denied? I am aware of no law that required a Summoner to apply for entry! That's what the Trials are for!

His assistant had the good manners to look discomfited.

Worse, our hosts seem to be under some kind of pressure from the clergy. We told them the whole story over dinner. They clucked and tutted and suggested we might have better luck with the Guado, since Maester Jyscal is known for tolerance. They affected surprise, but I caught a few furtive looks exchanged between them. They knew already-- I'm sure of it. Shortly afterwards, Rilani excused herself from the evening meal, feigning fatigue. When Lord Kano finally returned from escorting her to her apartments, he told us that they must leave for Djose in a few days, and apologized for having let it slip his mind during the hubbub of the festival. He assured us that their servants would do their best to attend to our needs in their absence. Lady Ginnem, of course, hastened to assure him that this would not be necessary.

I did not tell her my suspicions. She always thinks the best of people.

There is no point in "applying" to the college of priests for clarification. It's obvious what's happened. I'm shocked, and I think even my lady is shaken by this setback. I must swallow my own anger and do what little I can to ease the blow. I will not let her down, at least.

We are left with no choice. We must seek the Fayth of Macalania Temple. I hope Father Corlano's allies do not hinder us there.

Lady Ginnem is going into the city tomorrow to restock supplies. We should be able to acquire all we need at the temple, of course, but at this point I am not sure they would grudge us even a few healing potions. I must try to slip into the temple archives tomorrow without her, in order to investigate whatever records they have on Macalania forest. Hopefully they won't recognize her Guardian if I'm wearing something other than black.

I feel nervous even letting her go shopping without me, but I suppose there's nothing to worry about in Bevelle -- apart from obstructive high priests.

Lady Ginnem says that Yevon is testing her.

I told her it's probably the other way around. That made her smile, at least.



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18th February, 2007

Guardian's Journal, Day 44, Year 8 of Braska's Calm

We'll not have access to the Cloister today, nor for the next several days. There's a huge festival being held in honor of Lady Yocun, and the whole city's come to a standstill. I'd think they'd make an exception for her successor hopeful, let alone the daughter of Lord Corlano, but no. We must wait until the priests grant us access to the Bevelle Cloister of Trials.

My lady has secured lodgings near the palace of Yevon, thanks to the hospitality of an elderly couple, Kano and Rilani, who are generous patrons of Djose. We are enjoying hot baths and comforts that almost remind me of the myths of Zanarkand, save of course that there are no machina here. (I confess that I may have to purchase some lilac conditioner for myself on the return journey.) Yevon truly smiles on the holy city. Its residents are happy and prosperous, enjoying the finest foods, spices, perfumes, clothes, and furniture from all over Spira. Buildings are enormous. Our hosts keep only a few servants and live frugally, yet the suite of rooms they've loaned me and Ginnem is nearly the size of Besaid's cloisters. I think one could stage a Blitz tournament in several of the nearby mansions.

I wonder why Sin seldom strikes Bevelle. Maybe the proximity of the Calm Lands is an unpleasant reminder.

Lady Ginnem insisted that we enjoy ourselves today, so we danced in the streets along with the throngs of Yevon. "This is what the Calm will be like," she told me. "Only better." I remember the celebrations after Lord Braska's triumph, but Besaid's not given to great public display. Here, as in Luca, everything is grand spectacle. Maester Mika himself presided over the public thanksgiving feast outside the temple walls, where there were fruit and meats enough to feed hundreds of the faithful. Lord Mika is old, but still hale, and it was quite something to hear him speak! No doubt his long stewardship is due to Yevon's blessing.

We saw Ginnem's father as well, of course, leading the college of priests. I had vain hopes that he would have extended to her some sign, some token of public acknowledgment. There was a sacred reenactment of Yocun's pilgrimage, where Lord Corlano spoke glowingly of her determination and sacrifice. How could he not find it in himself to spare a few words for his own daughter, Djose's newest Summoner?

Ginnem doesn't seem to care. Word soon spread of her presence in the city for the festival. She mingles easily with suppliants, used to tending the sick and needy, and met all those who sought her out today with kind words, a healing touch, and humble gratitude. The house where we're lodged is utterly filled with the flowers and other small offerings that she accepted. Some gifts we will leave with our hosts; the flowers we will take to the temple as soon as it is open to pilgrimage.

The pageantry and majesty of Bevelle is daunting, to put it mildly. Everything is steeped in ceremony and custom. Everything is enormous and vivid, as the Aeons are. I feel a little homesick for the first time on this journey.

It's hard to believe Yuna was raised here as a child. She's such a simple, sweet soul.


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3rd December, 2006

Guardian's Journal, Day 43, Year 8 of Braska's Calm

It's a good thing Lady Ginnem knows her way around the Djose archive room. One would think that priests with their strict discipline, not to mention acolytes and orphans in need of chores and punishments, would have their scrolls more neatly organized! I have always made certain that Besaid's modest collection is efficiently maintained.

I could have spent days copying out certain passages, but out of deference to Lady Ginnem I restricted myself to the black magic section. There weren't many scrolls on that topic; priests and nuns generally incline towards gentler forms of magic, healing and restoratives.

I did run across one fascinating monograph on the Lightning Rocks, and was sorely tempted to take it with me. A scholar by the name of Maechen spent several years in Djose observing the rate of the rocks' spin and the visible effects of electricity, trying to correlate them with the experience of the Summoner, the number of Aeons he or she had already attained, Sin's activity and level of destructiveness, and various other factors. The text was painfully pedantic, and in the end he was forced to concede that there was no surefire way to predict a Summoner's success from the lightning's manifestations, but there was one section concerning the nature of Ixion's power which gave me food for thought.

Maechen spoke of the currents running through the earth, something he called "potential energy", and the relationship between time and space. He stated that Elemental magic may be channelled in three ways: through the innate power of the caster (which in an Aeon is considerable), by tapping into the earth's currents and energies, or -- here is a puzzling thought! -- by bending time back on itself, so that something that once happened may still be happening. Collapse time, and a lightning bolt from a winter storm that struck four hundred years ago may be now again. Spira is a world of spirals and cycles, from the wheel of the seasons to the migrations of birds, so this is not quite as far-fetched as one would think.

Therefore, like a Summoner drawing Fayth from a statue, a skilled black mage may awaken the landscape's memories of past events, of a lightning's strike or an ancient deluge, of a wildfire, volcanic eruption, or glaciers marching across the land. The latter two are probably the most difficult, for one must reach much farther back in time. I had already sensed that the land itself is moving -- slowly, slowly, ever so slowly -- but it had never occurred to me that all lands must have passed through hot and cold zones, and even Besaid may have been where Gagazet is now, many eons ago.

I do not know if I will ever be able to tap those deep memories of soil and atom to unleash thundaga and firaga, but I have begun to discover the second form of energy Maechen talked about, the currents of magic flowing through earth and sky. There is so much more energy in Spira than in my own body! A mage who draws only upon her own inner power is quickly exhausted; Spira loans much more. I must continue to work on my focus so that I can draw on and wield those energies. That is the secret to blizzara and watera, and if only I can master those, I am sure even an Ochu will present little difficulty. Unfortunately, while I have begun to be able to sense Spira's pulse, the currents and magics of the natural world, I still don't understand how to tap into them.

I found one other scroll that helped clarify what happened to me the day we were ambushed. Apparently, as one uses black magic, a little bit of residual energy from each spell remains behind. Eventually it's discharged. Other forms of physical or mental stress -- the pain of wounds, the burst of confidence that comes with victory, even the distress of watching loved ones suffer -- may add to this residue. With practice, one may learn to channel that energy consciously, both its accumulation and its release.

So much for research. The motion of the ship is beginning to make me queasy; I had better see if Ginnem wants to go up on deck for a breath of fresh air. Tomorrow we reach Bevelle.


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27th November, 2006

Guardian's Journal, Day 42, Year 8 of Braska's Calm

Djose Temple. I wish I were a poet, a singer, someone who could make magic with words. There is nothing I can write to capture the power of this marvellous place. You walk along a lonely stretch of road with the sea sighing next to you, and then it looms before you: huge sheer rocks pulsing with power, hissing and sputtering with living voices. Abruptly they break apart with a thunderclap and rise into the sky, spinning and swirling. Massive crags hang mid-air as effortlessly as a ship cradled upon the waves, spitting white and blue bolts of lightning between their edges.

Beneath this wondrous shell the temple glitters, its enamelled walls and windows hidden from view by gray rock save when a Summoner prays in the Chamber of the Fayth. By good fortune we arrived when someone else was there. Lady Ginnem did not seem to mind the competition, and bade me stand and watch. Like the winter monsoons, I could have stood there all day and night spectating, had duties not called us to continue.

A white-haired nun who has spent her life in temple came out to greet us, and a quiet fuss was made over my lady's return. The temple residents seem fond yet curiously shy of her. We were fed a light meal of ritual sweetbreads and fruits, and given a bright clear drink that burned going down. Then we were escorted to the entrance of the Cloisters. This one was far more intricate and dangerous than Besaid's simple maze, and I found myself wishing for a brawny fighter once or twice to push and pull some of the stone pedestals we had to maneuver into position. Between Ginnem and myself we managed it at last.

I think that the antechamber to Djose's Chamber of the Fayth is the most blissful place in the world. It crackled with electricity like the rocks outside, but I found that steady thrum soothing, hypnotic; in fact I had to take care not to fall asleep while I was on vigil. I lost myself in the power of that place. I have always felt like a stranger in Besaid -- not here. No wonder I find myself trusting Lady Ginnem: she is a child of thunder, as am I.


It is a peculiar irony that she served in Djose for so many years, but has seldom ventured farther than the door of the Cloister. She has helped rearrange the puzzles and replenish the spheres from time to time, of course, but she had never seen the upper level. Ginnem let me work out all the puzzles on my own, even though I took a few strong jolts from my mistakes.

In the evening there was a celebration feast after Lady Ginnem summoned the Aeon before the temple doors. Ixion. An altogether terrifying creature, all ribs and metal and bone. He cannot stand still for even a moment; every twitch, every snort throws off sparks that are only a tiny fraction of the power boiling within his taut frame. I could feel it. The priests of Djose gave him a respectfully wide berth, although they have seen him many times.

I look forward to seeing this Aeon in battle, although I suspect I will never be able to take the same pride in my own spells again. Next to Ixion, my bolts and pyrotechnics are mere gnats' stings.

We will spend a little time in the temple archives tomorrow morning. Ginnem has scoured them thoroughly for years, but there may be some scrap of lore that can help me in my own discipline. Tomorrow afternoon, a supply ship is returning from the Crusaders' new training camp to Bevelle. They have agreed to give us passage free of charge.

I am torn. On the one hand, skipping the Moonflow, Guadosalam, the Thunder Plains and Macalania will speed the pilgrimage. On the other hand, I wonder whether we are quite prepared for the Calm Lands. Ginnem says she has perfect faith in my abilities; I wish I could be so certain! At any rate, the Aeon of Bevelle Temple is immensely powerful. Once we have Bahamut as ally, my lady assures me, we will be capable of mastering any fiend that crosses our path. There will be plenty of time for honing skills between Bevelle and Mt. Gagazet.

I'm glad Chappu and Wakka cannot see what the electricity here is doing to my hair.


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21st November, 2006

Guardian's Journal, Day 41, Year 8 of Braska's Calm

Today we ran into several basilisks. I am so grateful for Lady Ginnem's preparations; otherwise our journey would have been brief. Of course, she is quite familiar with these creatures, since this is her home territory. She wears a special ring to protect herself from their sinister gaze. I am not so fortunate, but we had discussed what to do should we run afoul of them. I soon learned to recognize the rattle of their breath and fling myself into the nearest crevice behind her. It is a nuisance trying to cast at what one cannot see! To add to the challenge, basilisks tend to nest in a most disagreeable form of plantlife, one that bites back. I don't know whether the scent of scorched serpent or blasted fungus is worse.

I had one fright early on. Despite our caution, I was caught rounding the spur of a cliff, and was frozen in my tracks until Ginnem loosened the spell's hold with her own magic. It was not an experience I'd care to repeat. Also, a few times today, I found myself having trouble chipping away at the Fiends we came across, especially those squat round ones with the hard shell. So Ifrit and Valefor also had a good work-out. I am glad Ginnem warned me that most of the Fiends on this stretch of road are inured to lightning.


If all that were were not enough of a challenge, just after we finished off the basilisk that had pinned me with its eye, Lady Belgemine stepped out from who knows where and hailed us. Belgemine! Lady Ginnem has mentioned her once or twice as a helpful teacher, but I had assumed Ginnem meant someone at the temple and had let her name slip my mind. Now I'm not quite sure what to think. According to my mistress, Belgemine is a failed Summoner who shares her store of experience with others. I cannot doubt she is a Summoner after today's demonstration, and yet-- if she's comfortable prowling the Djose Highroad without any Guardians, I cannot understand why she was unable to reach Zanarkand.

I should describe Belgemine: tall, trim, middle-aged, sandy-colored hair gathered tightly in two knots capped by a double snood over both ears, prefers to wear greens and yellows similar to a nun's habit, but with more elegance. She speaks in a sardonic, warm, faintly husky voice laced with a seductive playfulness that sets my teeth on edge. I must admit, however, that it compels the listener to commit every word to memory. Maybe I can use the same trick on Wakka and Chappu when they're harassing me.




It struck me as sinister that Belgemine happened to be waiting for us in that lonely place. She restored Ifrit -- I should like to know how! -- and challenged Lady Ginnem to a duel on the spot. I fear I embarrassed Ginnem with my protests. Laughing, Belgemine flattered me prettily for serving as a good Guardian. That was hardly going to win me over, but of course, I obeyed Ginnem's orders. Thankfully, the duel proved to be no more than a duel, after all, and I was greatly interested to see how Belgemine was able to coax her slow-moving Ifrit to brace against Valefor's harrying swoops and conserve itself for one devastating counterattack. After a few rounds resulting in a draw, they dismissed their Aeons and compared notes while I kept watch. Eventually we moved on, leaving the enigmatic woman standing like one more pillar among the rocks.

When I asked if Belgemine lived there, Ginnem grew subdued and said there were some questions one ought not to ask. We nearly had our first real argument, but it seemed boorish to press her about it then, as she was very fatigued from their contest. Luckily, we met no more basilisks.

Tonight we are resting in safety, although not altogether at ease. A new Crusaders' training camp is being erected on the Djose shore in a sheltered cove. It's good to taste the salt breeze and hear the surf's music again, instead of only imagining them! The little huts clustered along the shore with their brave banners seem to issue a cheerful wave of defiance against Sin lurking somewhere out beyond the bay.

Lady Ginnem seemed troubled to find the Crusaders mustered there, half a day's walk from Djose Temple. They offered us hospitality and a tent for our night's lodgings. Before we turned in for the night, she stood at the door flap gazing out at the soldiers polishing swords and mending armor by torchlight. When I called her into the tent, she abruptly reminded me that I was only escorting her as far as Zanarkand. Then she threw herself into her journals and notes, devouring them by the light of an oil lamp as if seeking some new secret that she and I had missed in all our previous perusals.

I don't like the thought of skulking behind her in some crevice while she fights her last battle, yet I cannot dispute her. Chappu, Yuna, and Wakka are waiting for me.

Enough! I must be sharp for the Cloister of Trials tomorrow, and Lady Ginnem needs rest for her vigil in the Chamber of Fayth. She is weary from the day's battles and her extra exertions with Belgemine. My lady will have to grapple with her ghosts some other night.



# posted by: auronlu @ 23:09 Comments (1)

17th November, 2006

Guardian's Journal, Day 39, Year 8 of Braska's Calm

Step by step, Besaid recedes, and I settle into a Guardian's shoes.

The true test hasn't yet come, of course. The Crusaders keep the Highroad well-guarded. Lady Ginnem believes the patrols taper off between Djose and Bevelle, so hopefully we should get in some practice before the Calm Lands. I do not want to venture there less than fully-prepared.

The nights are long and cold, since we seldom risk a fire despite the frequent foot patrols. We won't have that luxury in the Calm Lands. Valefor keeps watch for part of the night so that I can rest. We'll use Ifrit on Mt. Gagazet, where he's less likely to set the foliage on fire. We will probably need his warmth. For now, we are learning the less glamorous parts of the pilgrimage: walking, walking, and more walking, probably more distance than I have ever travelled in my twenty years on Besaid. Also, we must be sparing and cautious of magic, supplies, and rations, for the Al Bhed Inns are few and far between, and our funds are limited.

The stars are clear and bright as fresh pyreflies -- no sea fog to shroud them. The birds, the cries in the underbrush, the plants and scents, and the very soil are different from anything I have known. We are camped now in a forbidding valley of pillared stone and twisted formations where little but lichen grows. I wonder what the Fiends feast on besides unwary pilgrims? The wind howls through the rocky spires, and I keep imagining I hear surf. I miss the sea. There has never been a moment in my life when I have not heard its distant sigh.

Ah. There was one creature today that I will have to look up when we reach the temple. The elementals are beginning to shrivel before my magic, but this entity seemed to delight in turning my own lightning against me. Its magic was enough to let it float effortlessly; it seemed to gather power from the very air with ribbon-like gills. The shape was almost manlike, but obscene, grotesque, with a second face where its genitals should be. It was sentient, of that I'm certain. Ginnem calls them "ganderewa" and doesn't trouble herself about what they are, since she's grown up in the region. But I'm unsettled. What — who — are they? Is this some other race twisted by Sin, banished from the blessing of Yevon?

Whatever they are, they do not like Summoners. Lady Ginnem keeps assuring me that I don't have to fight the battles for her, just with her, but it's teeth-jarring every time one of them manages to land a bolt on her before I can drown it. I suppose that's what White Magic is for, but I still don't like it. Ginnem seems to enjoy battle as much as I do, however. She says it's a refreshing change from coddling priests.

I don't like the thought of Yuna in battle. She'll have to kill more than Sin, if she comes this way.





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14th November, 2006

Guardian's Journal, Day 35, Year 8 of Braska's Calm

What an outrage!

Also a sobering lesson. I was watching for Fiends. It never occurred to me that Spirans might pose a threat to us as well.

We passed several Crusaders patrols today on the Highroad. I was just remarking to Lady Ginnem that it was going to be difficult for me to practice if they kept chasing all the Fiends away. We were passing by some old ruins. Suddenly, I was hit from behind. There were four, maybe five men, including at least one of those who had been asking Lady Ginnem about Guardians yesterday! Ginnem was pounced by two of them, and if they had wanted to kill her then and there, I could not have saved her. I lashed out in panic. Something inside me snapped. I have never seen lightning like that before: it welled up like Sin's wave crashing over the shore, completely beyond my control, and started striking everything around me. I'm afraid I may have hit the Lady as well... I don't remember now. Apparently one of the ruffians struck me, and I blacked out. A nearby patrol heard the commotion and came to our aid.

So much for our first full day on the road. Lady Ginnem rented lodgings at an Al Bhed travel agency for the night, and the proprietor gave her some sort of healing ointment for my head. I don't feel at all easy about staying here, but she assures me it's safe. The Crusaders seem to have some sort of understanding with these people.

This is absolutely unacceptable. A Guardian must always be on guard, and I might have failed Lady Ginnem today had our attackers been Fiends instead of robbers.

I killed two of them, I think.

I feel strange. It's probably this horrid Al Bhed ointment.


# posted by: auronlu @ 07:55 Comments (0)

13th November, 2006

Guardian's Journal, Day 34, Year 8 of Braska's Calm

Luca. How many times have Wakka and Chappu dragged me here? I find myself missing both of them, their energy and enthusiasm and endless rambling about this tackle and that form of pass (none of which they've mastered). Yet it's strangely liberating to be visiting Blitzball Central without my exasperating Aurochs in tow.

I was startled to find Lady Ginnem eager to watch the exhibition matches, and I startled myself to discover how much of the game I've absorbed through watching friends. For once, I was Ginnem's teacher, explaining to her rules and techniques, and she seemed amused by my embarrassment that I found myself recognizing nearly every athlete. And missing one. Chappu's still learning and still growing, but the Aurochs may finally have a glimmer of a chance in a few years with his arm on the team. In the meantime, I confess it was a pleasant change to watch two skilled teams playing well. The Goers still won, of course, but the Psyches and Fangs put up a good fight.

After the day's matches, we went to the sphere theater hoping to collect more information about the Calm Lands. Unfortunately, their library is geared towards entertainment, and we gave up the search quickly. Word of Lady Ginnem's pilgrimage is beginning to get around. Curious spectators and well-wishers kept gathering wherever we went. Two seamy-looking gentlemen kept asking if she wanted more Guardians. Should I be insulted?

I'm looking forward to the Highroad. There, hopefully, I'll be permitted to blast anything in our way.


# posted by: auronlu @ 07:29 Comments (0)

11th November, 2006

Guardian's Journal, Day 33, Year 8 of Braska's Calm

Lady Ginnem and I spoke far into the evening on the ship's upper deck, until the sea breeze drove us indoors. The sailors treat us with respect and a wide berth, a luxury I have seldom enjoyed in Besaid save when serving in the temple. Ginnem joked that I am already helping her as Guardian: she was swarmed by doting well-wishers on the voyage over, which gave her few chances to meditate. Apparently the crew and passengers find me intimidating. Good!

I have read through all of her notes on the first three Summoners, and discovered that she has been wrestling with a knotty problem which the priests discourage us from pondering.

Why does Sin return?

Five times, Summoners have managed to vanquish Sin. Eyewitness accounts of Gandof's battle are steeped in legend and surely exaggerated, yet the records for all their dramatic language seem adamant on this fact: during the Final Summoning's cataclysm, Sin was blotted from the sky, reduced to a fine dust that fell across the Calm Lands for days. Saying that Sin is a living expression of our imperfect souls is all very well, but I have seen our foe: it has eyes, claws, a head. It is an incarnate creature. Alive. And then dead. How can something like that remake itself from oblivion, after its body is destroyed?

Ginnem guesses that it may be coalescing from pyreflies, which can assemble into an image of the departed beyond the Farplane Gates at Guadosalam. But those are merely visible forms for the spirits of the dead, like a spot of light cast on a wall by sunlight shining through a keyhole. I don't know if they're tangible. Surely they can't be, or people would forever be going there seeking the touch of a loved one's hands.

On the other hand, no one really knows what Aeons or Fiends are made of, either. Again, the theory is that pyreflies endow them with physical structure. Maybe that's why it takes Sin such a long time to collect a new form, one pyrefly at a time. Perhaps it builds in the sea like coral, until it hits critical mass? Sinspawn fall from its carapace: do the spirits of dead sinners build up its skin scale by scale?

I don't know why I'm pondering Sin's nature. We must simply defeat it. It's foolish to ponder too closely what makes the back of a mirror reflect one's face. Use it, or break it. One might as well ask why the sky is blue, or the sun is bright.

Far more troubling is the brevity of Braska's Calm. He was a gifted Summoner. Despite his associations with the Al Bhed, he seems to have won the grudging respect of Yevon, even if they haven't yet installed his statue in all the temples. Yet his Calm lasted only seven years. So little time. High Summoner Yocun's lasted for thirty. Will Summoners keep offering their lives, if the promise of hope they bring lasts only a few seasons? I would not have Lady Ginnem's sacrifice be in vain! And what of Yuna?

Ginnem says the consensus of senior church officials is that Lord Braska's marriage to a heathen may have rendered the nobility of his character imperfect, and tainted the goodness of his self-sacrifice on Spira's behalf. Can Sin be that sensitive to our flaws? I suppose that's what the Teachings signify. It is discouraging, however. It suggests that as long as unbelievers such as the Al Bhed exist outside of Yevon's fold, the people of Spira will not achieve total Atonement, and Sin will never fully be vanquished.

Lord Jyscal's conversion of the Guado helps strengthen the power of Yevon; perhaps in some way that will weaken Sin. Maybe Ginnem's Calm will last longer. I wish Lord Braska had managed to use his alliance with the Al Bhed to help them find Yevon too. At least Yuna is being brought up in the temple, instead of damned to ignorance. But I am afraid. If Ginnem cannot find a way to destroy Sin once and for all, Yuna's pilgrimage may be inevitable.

On another matter, Lady Ginnem pointed out something peculiar about temple life. When the Calm comes, all Spira rejoices, great celebrations are held, and for a time there is peace. Then temples become merely quiet places of prayer and retreat for the devout, and serve as a hub for seasonal festivals. During the Calm, they are sleepy communities of nuns and priests who apart from high days are cloistered and removed from the world. Ironically, it is Sin that quickens life in the temples. As soon as the Destroyer reappears, believers flock to them in far greater numbers, praying for protection and giving generous donations. Would-be apprentice Summoners enter rigorous training under priestly supervision, and communities follow news from the trials and track the progress of every apprentice as sports fans do blitz players. Pilgrimages bring fresh visitors to the temples, news and ideas from far away, and generous gifts from those who believe that the Fayths' favor may be won by lavish offerings (Ginnem does not believe this).

In a strange way, it is in the best interest of Yevon for Sin to return. If it is ever destroyed, what will happen to temple life, to the Teachings, to people's faith? Or is that, in truth, the secret to Sin's resurrection? Fear lends fervor to prayer. Perhaps, lulled into complacency, people tend to fall away from piety during the Calm.

I don't know. I was a temple orphan like Ginnem, but I have no wish to take a nun's vows or study doctrine. Yet Lady Ginnem's fate and Yuna's depend upon such questions.

I must be careful; there is a fine line between examining the Teachings for clues and questioning them which a Guardian, of all people, should not cross. If Yevon is right about Braska's unorthodoxy undermining his victory, then I don't want to jeopardize Ginnem's pilgrimage with blasphemy.

Flee or fight. Those are a Guardian's two options. Lady Ginnem must consider the spirit hidden within things: that is a Summoner's sphere. I should stick to the road and its dangers. Sometimes, however, I can't help thinking more deeply. Yuna's life may depend on secrets we have not yet discovered.


# posted by: auronlu @ 18:09 Comments (0)

10th November, 2006

Guardian's Journal, Day 32, Year 8 of Braska's Calm

I've seen my first Ochu!

It seemed a pity to kill it, but we can't have Fiends that size putting down roots on the very doorstep of the temple.

Ifrit was magnificent. My powers are no match for an Ochu yet, so Lady Ginnem decided to try out her newest Aeon. It's the first time I've seen one in action. It was strange to stand back and watch this huge being fighting for us, docile to Ginnem's commands. Unfortunately, its habit of tearing up chunks of ground and flinging them means that we had better not use Ifrit on roads or cultivated land unless we absolutely must. I must say, I like Fire nearly as much as Thunder, which I tend to fall back on when I'm not thinking. I have a feeling that all four elements will be old friends by the time we reach Zanarkand.

I need to practice my Water. One would think a native of the islands would have mastered it long ago, but I see I'm a little lax -- there was never much use using it on water flans, who positively basked in it. The electricity elementals on Kilika gave me no end of trouble. I found myself strangely drawn to them, however. Ginnem assures me that Fiends are simply Unsent spirits, but how in Spira could what's left of a soul become pure elemental magic?

Unless...

Maybe they are the spirits of long-dead mages? What a peculiar thought. If so, there must have been many more of us, long ago. I could imagine myself winding up reduced to a pile of sparks in the end.

I'm very much looking forward to Djose. Unfortunately the ferry route is to Luca. I hope I don't run into Wakka and Chappu there. The next tournament isn't too far off... hopefully Ginnem and I will be well on our way along the Mi'hen Highroad by then.


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9th November, 2006

Guardian's Journal ~ Day 30, 8th year of Braska's Calm

Our journey begins. Yevon, hear my prayer: grant me the strength and wisdom to guard Lady Ginnem and see her safely to Zanarkand.

Farewells were awkward and painful, but in the fresh air of the open ocean I could not long feel the sting of Chappu's final reproaches or Yuna's silent worries. Sea travel clears the mind! A part of me can never forget what happened to my parents, yet I understand now why sailors risk going out again and again. Freedom! Few Spirans dare to travel without good reason, for Sin and Fiends make journeys hazardous, but oh, it feels good to escape the narrow confines of village life for a while and breathe. Who knows what marvels wait beyond the horizon?

Lady Ginnem and I had a long talk today. We had already discussed our respective motives, but it's important to be honest with one another.

Ginnem has no personal ties left to anyone this side of the Farplane. Gaining the respect in death that she never received from her father in life is a small, bittersweet part of why she is doing this, but I do not think it is her driving motivation. Like Yuna, she believes that she can bring hope to Spira, and she yearns to help the common people in ways that the priesthood and the Teachings cannot. They promise Sin will disappear when our Atonement is complete. Lady Ginnem is not willing to wait, when she can do more.

Also, she feels a certain kinship with the Crusaders-- why are Summoners and Crusaders not working more closely together to defeat Sin? But she is no leader, and does not have the clout in the temple to push for changes there. At the least, she can help save a few Crusader lives by putting Sin out of the picture for a while.

Lady Ginnem respects my reasons as well. She saw a glimpse of what I see in Yuna, and is not insulted that I should choose to Guard another Summoner in order to protect my friend from the pilgrimage's dangers. On a more sober note, Ginnem acknowledged that she could fail, and she wants to help me learn all I can about the pilgrimage route and its hazards. I will thus be better prepared to serve as Yuna's Guardian, if I must.


(Lady Ginnem's Journal: projected itinerary)

Lady Ginnem has been preparing for this pilgrimage for some time, the moreso since she was not certain when and where she would find a Guardian. She has mapped out our route and compiled detailed notes on all the places we will be visiting: Kilika, then Djose, Bevelle, and the Calm Lands. She has chosen to bypass Macalania Temple, since the Fayth from Bevelle is so powerful that she doubts the last Fayth is really necessary. So she says, but I have a suspicion that she is really trying to avoid Guadosalam. It's a strange place, by all accounts. Fresh with fervor since Lord Jyscal converted its people to Yevon, its people's eagerness to assist passing Summoners is apparently a mixed blessing. Also, there is apparently some turmoil brewing there over the return of Jyscal's son from exile, and the mysterious death of Jyscal's wife. Some old-fashioned Guado are still not entirely reconciled to Jyscal's reforms and his unorthodox marriage, while others are siding with his son and blame Jyscal for his wife's death. In short, Guadosalam is unstable beneath the surface.

Those are reasons enough to steer clear until it's settled down, but I can't help wondering if Lady Ginnem simply doesn't wish to go near the Farplane Portal, due to her own painful loss. "Looking to the past for guidance about the future is pointless," she told me.

That may be so, but her research in the records of Djose Temple and the Crusaders' archives is impressive! She has loaned me her notes to study. There is so much to learn about Spira. We reach Kilika tomorrow, so I am absorbing everything I can about Ochu and elementals tonight! I hope my water spells will hold against the latter.

Ugh. Apparently the Kilika jungle is full of large insects.




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9th November, 2006

Guardian's Journal ~ Day 29, 8th year of Braska's Calm

Chappu, dear Chappu. I suppose he thinks I won't be able to go with Ginnem in the morning if I'm too tired to walk.

I can do this.

Yevon, I'm going to miss him.


# posted by: auronlu @ 00:08 Comments (0)

8th November, 2006

Guardian's Journal ~ Day 27, 8th year of Braska's Calm

Well, well. In all my fears and expectations, I never dreamed that being a Guardian could be fun.

Never mind that we had an additional challenge, since someone broke into the Cloister of Trials and hid one of the spheres behind Lady Yocun's statue. (I almost told Father Turan who must have done it, but I suppose my leaving is punishment enough.) Once we had sorted out that little mystery, the actual puzzles were child's play! Lady Ginnem assures me that some of the Cloisters are more challenging; Bevelle, she has heard, is a positive nightmare. My guess is that most Guardians are fighters, not thinkers, and the traps were designed accordingly.

But that is a minor part of my duties. It is the journey between the temples where my real work likes. I have shown Lady Ginnem my notes on Fiends and items that might be used for healing and protection, but there was little she did not know already; her lore and knowledge of the mainland are far more extensive than mine. We will spend a little more time in Besaid combing through scrolls and asking sailors for every scrap of information we can about our route and the creatures we may encounter in Kilika and preparing potions and supplies. We leave in three days' time.

I confess that I felt personally vindicated this evening, standing at Lady Ginnem's side while she performed the Summoning before the whole village. It has been a long time since the people of Besaid have seen Valefor fly in majesty. She is so graceful, but so remote to me: above and apart from every element and flavor of magic I know. Chappu was impressed, in spite of himself. He's still not speaking to me, but it is hard to be angry in the presence of something so beautiful. Yuna, of course, was delighted, especially when Lady Ginnem called her forward to let her touch her first Aeon. I am no judge of such things, but I believe that Valefor seems to have a fancy for our temple's new apprentice. After all, Yuna has grown up on her doorstep, and her own spirit soars too. I think, if there had not been so many people watching, she might have begged the Aeon for a ride.



I wish the Summoner's art was not slanted to such a grim purpose. I saw a yearning in Yuna's eyes today that I understand very well: it is the same flush of joy I feel when the winter monsoons batter Besaid with lightning and water, fire and storm. Bless her. She deserves to fly.

This evening, though, Yuna has been very quiet. She is no fool. She knows that her own training has prompted me to undertake this journey. I promised her that I would do everything in my power to return, and that someday, when she enters the Cloister of Trials, I will be there with Kimahri to watch over her.


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7th November, 2006

Guardian's Journal ~ Day 26, 8th year of Braska's Calm

Lady Ginnem is a remarkable woman. I suppose all Summoners are.

I would never let that bumbling ass know it, but Wakka's right; I think I'm coming down with a slight case of hero worship. Lady Ginnem makes me realize just how arrogant I have been, living on this puny backwater island with a few cheap tricks that set me apart from everyone else. I have so much to learn from her. She is willing to teach me. I am genuinely looking forward to our journey together.

I should try to write something about her. There's so much to say, and bald history really doesn't explain what it is about her that I admire, but it will suffice for now.

Lady Ginnem, daughter of High Priest Corlano, began her Summoner's training nine years ago against her father's command. It was their first falling-out, a few weeks after she learned of his existence. He had left her to be raised in Djose Temple among the orphans, and had no contact with her until she was sixteen. Ginnem was never able to discover her mother's identity, but apparently she was a Bevelle novitiate who died in labor: the scandal was hushed up. So Ginnem was a temple child, like myself, Yuna, Chappu, and Wakka, raised by Yevon.


When Lord Corlano got word of Ginnem's intention to become a Summoner, he sent for her in Bevelle. Her joy at finding one of her parents still alive soured quickly; it seemed that he had no interest in her save as a pawn. She was soon engaged to a warrior monk who had shot up through the ranks, one whom everyone expected to become Maester sooner rather than later: Wen Auron. However, Ginnem had always been a headstrong child, perplexing her teachers at Djose, and she rebelled against her father almost at once. She fell in love with a junior officer of the Crusaders distinguished neither by birth nor the favor of Yevon. Her father was furious when word of their covert liaisons reached him. He forbade that, too.

Lady Ginnem has her own personal reasons for honoring the man who has since become a legend. Wen Auron became Sir Auron, disgraced Guardian of a renegade Summoner, after refusing to play his part in Corlano's charade. Before he left on pilgrimage, Auron entrusted certain information to Ginnem's lover, Turel, giving him the location of a lost Fayth's statue whose recovery might help the young officer earn the accolades of his superiors. Shortly afterwards, the new Wen Kinoc began giving Turel plum assignments, apparently at the request of his disgraced former comrade. Turel's prospects were looking bright when he landed an assignment at the Crusaders' northern training camp on the edge of the Calm Lands.

Lady Ginnem blames her father for Turel's death, but I suspect it truly was an accident. His team was ambushed by Fiends shortly after clearing the cavern entrance of debris.

Ginnem returned to Djose at the first opportunity and undertook the vows of a nun to protest her father's actions. Lord Corlano never spoke to her again, even when she announced her intention to resume her Summoner's training two years ago. Nevertheless, lingering temple gossip has made it difficult for her to find a Guardian.

She says that I remind her of Djose Temple: sternly forbidding on the outside, guarding a fierce bright spark within. I suppose it's mere flattery, but... there is something so refreshingly genuine about this woman. She has profound faith in Yevon, but she's not blind to the fact that priests may have reasons to atone as much as anyone. She says that Teachings can be manipulated or misused like any other tool. But she holds no bitterness in her heart. There is a love in her for the world at large that transcends personal circumstance. In that, she reminds me of Yuna.

I find myself eager to help her achieve redemption for the good of all Spira. If a renegade Summoner brought us the last Calm, how delicious would it be for the estranged High Priest's daughter to win the next one?

We enter the Cloister of Trials tomorrow at dawn. I cannot seem to sleep. Neither can Yuna. She's taken a shine to my new Summoner, and the feeling seems mutual. Ginnem has a mischievous regard for Braska the heretic and his half-breed daughter. The Lady managed to pry her away from Father Binna and had a long talk with her this afternoon about her training. I almost wish that Ginnem would stay here to provide Yuna with a sympathetic role model. But that would bring Yuna a few steps closer to a Summoner's fate.

That's the painful part of this job. No Guardian has ever managed to protect a Summoner from the Final Aeon, and I'm not arrogant enough to think that I can work miracles. Lady Ginnem insists that she does not want me taking foolish risks, since I still have loved ones waiting for me. All I have to do is escort her to Zanarkand, where she can procure the Final Aeon. She is determined to face Sin alone.

I can already see that I'm going to miss her.


# posted by: auronlu @ 02:15 Comments (1)

6th November, 2006

Guardian's Journal ~ Day 25, 8th year of Braska's Calm

Well, that's done it. One moment, Chappu's sun and laughter and so full of life that I'm drunk with it; the next he's being very much a man. No, a boy. I'm not some trophy cup to be kept on a shelf in his hut for him to admire and show off to friends. I understand that he's angry because he loves me, and this is a hard thing to ask. I might not make it back. But he should have at least a little faith in my skills. I will be careful. I don't intend to lose him any more than Yuna.

Yes, that's the difference. None of us wanted Yuna to become a Summoner. But she has the talent. How dare we forbid it? Let her train, let her learn; she can heal and bring hope to Spira in so many ways that have nothing to do with Sin. Yevon willing, she'll never have to set off on pilgrimage, but if she must, then I will watch over her with Kimahri. I won't cage her or refuse to acknowledge her special gifts.

Chappu wanted to come along, of course, but he's a blitzball player, not a Crusader. He doesn't know the first thing about fighting. I'm sorry for telling him so, but there's no point in his pretending to be something he's not. How could I protect a Summoner while fretting about his safety?

I hurt him badly. He crossed a line, but that's no excuse. I must try to make it up to him before we leave.

Lady Ginnem's boat arrives in the morning. I hope she'll forgive prying questions. I'm sure she'll have a few for me as well. We must be certain of one another. Our lives -- and perhaps all of Spira -- will depend upon it.

How strange. Of course, I'd be gratified to help usher in the Calm and end Sin's terror. I long to see the day when children can grow up without the faintest idea what it's like to watch a Summoner dance for their loved ones. But I'm not noble enough to sacrifice personal joy for the greater good. That's not why I'm going. I'm just tired of losing those I love.

Never again. I'm sorry, Chappu.

Speaking of Yuna, where is she? She missed the evening meal again. I wonder if Binna is being especially hard on her, so that Yevon cannot accuse him of showing favoritism. If so, I'm sure she'll manage.


# posted by: auronlu @ 08:37 Comments (0)

5th November, 2006

Guardian's journal ~ Day 20, 8th Year of Braksa's Calm

Success! Kimahri may be hornless, but he has sharp ears. Most people forget that just because he doesn't speak much doesn't mean he can't hear. I am in his debt again.

Temple gossip has it that a Summoner is coming here alone from Djose, where she has served as a nun for many years. She has no Guardians, and asked our priests whether Besaid had anyone available to keep vigil while she was in the Chamber of the Fayth. I prevailed upon Father Turan to send a message letting her know that one was available.

He called me an arrogant little witch with no clue what I'm getting myself into, but he gave in.

There's just one problem. I remember the rumors swirling when Lord Braska and his mismatched Guardians stopped here. Sir Auron was infamous back then, rather than legendary: he had been thrown out of the warrior monks' order a few weeks before after refusing the hand of the High Priest's daughter. Her name? Ginnem. Why would he risk dishonor and disgrace rather than a useful alliance with her? I detest gossip, but I need to know whether I can trust her. Getting myself killed halfway won't help Yuna.

All right, two problems. Chappu complained that I've been acting strangely, that I've been spending too much time practicing and not enough time in his company. Sooner or later he's going to notice the way Father Turan's been avoiding me. In the meantime, he keeps dragging me to the damned beach to get me to watch blitzball practice. How is that any better?! Watching him half-naked in the water makes it bearable, I suppose. But I swear, if Wakka tries one more time to impress me, I'm going to set his tail on fire. And how dare he tell us not to go into the jungle alone? I can protect his little brother better than he can!

Oh, Yevon, but this afternoon in the jungle was glorious. Mmm. I'm still tingling.


We haven't seen much of Yuna this past week; Father Binna has had her cooped up in the scroll room drilling her from morning prayers until nightfall. Poor thing. She was so tired when she came back to our room last night. And the nuns keep whispering outside the door after they think we've fallen asleep. I will have to have a word with them this evening.


# posted by: auronlu @ 18:57 Comments (0)

5th November, 2006

Guardian's Journal Day 1: Year 8 of Braska's Calm

Guardian. Chappu will be upset when he finds out, but it can't be helped. Wakka still believes we'll be able to dissuade Yuna from embarking on her training. I won't let her know that I've conceded, but I know her too well. She's not a child anymore, and she won't waver once she's set her mind on a course. A course towards Sin. Her father would be proud of her.

Gentle as she is, we are more alike than anyone else realizes. There is only one way to stop her. I must get there first.

Braska was a fool, as I told his Guardian long ago. What kind of father orphans his own child on purpose? There are enough of us who have grown up motherless and fatherless, without having parents seek their deaths. And it's said that children often follow in their footsteps.

I do remember my parents, at least. Sin struck when I was five -- the same age as Yuna when her mother was taken by the sea. Papa was the best weaver in Besaid. We never knew where Mother came from, washed up on the beach after a Sin-attack with her memory in tatters. Pale and secretive with strange eyes, she was not like the islanders, and there was a perilous power hidden in her small frame that is her gift to me. I used to use it to frighten the boys when they would not leave me alone. Then there was the time I found Kimahri's tail a little too tempting and wound up dangling from his paws over the river until I promised to restrict my spells to fiends.

It's no game anymore.

Letty and Jassu used to tease me for wearing black like my mother instead of our island's colorful fabrics: I now realize that they were afraid. Even the priests are uneasy around me. Three years ago, I stopped obeying the temple edict not to travel alone on the path from the village to the beach. No fiends have eaten me yet -- although Kimahri's had to bail me out a few times -- and I make the route safer for others. Letty and Jassu don't tease anymore, and the priests leave me alone except to set healing potions outside the door of my cell. I suppose that's their way of saying thank you. Nowadays, only Yuna, Chappu, and Kimahri seem able to look me in the eye or speak to me without stammering.

Black magic. A mixed blessing. But now, sweet sister, you have chosen the path of the Summoner, despite all our efforts to keep you happy and distracted. Then I will be a Guardian.

Summoner training usually takes several years, but knowing Yuna, I don't have much time. I had better find myself a Summoner quickly.

I don't know how I'm going to explain this to Chappu. This is something I have to do. Yevon gave me this power for a reason. But I love him so much. How can I leave him? What if I don't come back?

I can't let Yuna die. I just can't.


# posted by: auronlu @ 11:46 Comments (1)