A/N: This story, I'm not quite sure how well I executed it, I had a great idea in my mind about it, but reading it now, not so sure. Reviews appreciated.

Also, thanks to Renmiri for helping me with parts of it through discussion at the Final Phantasy Legend forum.

It had taken him twenty three years to complete his task, but he was finally ready, he was finally whole. Yu Yevon would finally get his vengeance,

He silently glided through the farplane's sky, thankful that the pyreflies that followed him kept their distance. He would need them soon enough, but he had already found those that made up his soul and he did not want the stray pyrefly bonding to him.

At least, not yet, he mused.

Staying high in the air, he hugged the stone ceiling as he flew into the very heart of his current home. Gradually, the air turned a hazy blue from the rich golden hue it was near the Guado entrance. The ceiling became pitted, and eventually holes could be seen leading through the earth.

He knew he had to choose carefully. If he emerged in the wrong place, his plan would be ruined. He knew his solution. Concentrating, he forced the nearby pyreflies to take on the form of their life, or at least their dream. Slowly, the great birdlike beast coalesced, a sight far less grand than it would have been so many years ago. It flew into one hole, and quickly reappeared only to dive into another.

The creature eventually came to rest by one opening. Satisfied, he dismissed the creature's form, but not the pyreflies that made it, and took off down the fissure that hopefully led to the Calm Lands.

He emerged into darkness, scattering nearby fiends as the light of the trailing pyreflies illuminated the cavern to an unprecedented degree. He felt a few the pyreflies remembered this place, but now was not the time for such nostalgia.

Somehow, he managed to clear the tunnels of the debris that blocked their path, and gently commanded the pyreflies surrounding him to congeal on the walls, to solidify into the shapes that they had not known for many years.

Slowly, many figures emerged. Human figures. He knew most of these from the past, he was there when they were first formed on top of the nearby mountain, but there were new figures, younger ones. One had long hair weighed down by many weights; another had wings erupting from her back, while others were arranged in more unusual fashions. He sensed a strange power coming from them. He quietly approached one such statue, only to have a purple blur emerge from the centre of the ring upon which the statue was formed.

New minds, thought Yevon as he let the shadow pass by, knowing that it would return when he began, they will help rebuild.

Soon, the cavern was filled with fayth. He could feel their minds flooding into his; their dreaming had begun anew. But he could not summon just yet, he still lacked something.

"Return to the farplane," called a voice from behind him. He swivelled his bug like body to find the source. On the edge of the precipice stood a cloud of pyreflies. At its centre could be seen a man, his form growing more and more defined as the pyreflies condensed. His scarlet coat billowed as he flung his arm from within its grip, grasping the large sword that the man was so fond of.

Perfect, he thought. It was no aeon, he realised, but this being has a will strong enough for him to build on.

The man swung at him, but the heavy blade passed through his body as if he was not there.

Again, the blade swung, to no avail, and on the third stroke, Yevon made his move.

The being cried out in agony as the parasitical entity pierced his dead skin, merging with the pyreflies within. He quickly took control of the unsent's mind, preventing him from dispersing himself. He would not lose his grasp until the summoning begins, and by then, he would have made this man into something far greater than the legendary Guardian he once was. Something that he cannot just will out of existence like he can himself. He would be trapped within.

Consolidating his control over the man, he heard the blade fall to the ground. He knew it was unusual for weaponry to be a part of ones soul, it must be quite precious to the man, and it would remain here for eternity, or until he too was defeated, a fate he would never allow again.

Walking the man out of the cavern, he once more began to draw pyreflies to him as he did one thousand years ago, feeling slight bemusement at the trail of souls that had heard his call from the farplane itself, and had began to pour out of the cavern.

Soon, all of Spira will burn, he promised himself, glancing up at the tall mountain that stood to the north, and Zanarkand will live in peace.

In the many years of the Eternal Calm, Besaid had grown much larger than was ever dreamt possible, and she was overjoyed at the plans to build a blitzball stadium on the island. He often complained, jokingly though, about the long journeys to Luca to compete.

Time however, was not on his side. As they grew older, small complaints he had grew worse, and he was often the stuff of ridicule among the younger players, but he still liked to show his worth, and was often the one ridiculing them for letting an "Old Timer" beat them. He and Wakka, who by now had grown too old for blitz, a fact that was proven when he nearly drowned after only three minutes in the pool, managed the Besaid Aurochs together.

And now he was eagerly leaping into a tale based around another Auroch "oldie" having just finished his evening meal.

She began to clear the table at which they sat, achingly noting it was only set for two. She was never destined to have children with him, not with his, unique, nature. Though he stood to help her, he continued his story, and she retreated into the kitchen, occasionally saying something when prompted.

However, silence soon fell inside the dining area, broken only by the sound of crockery falling to the floor.

She ran back into the room, only to see a fate she had not feared for twenty years. Pyreflies hovered where he once stood, and began to fall back.

She chased them; tears were beginning to role down her face,

No! she thought.

"No!"she cried.

She chased them through the town. People glanced worriedly at the sight of the High Summoner running after a cloud of pyreflies. Few knew what it meant, and even fewer still understood.

She chased them up the steps of the old temple. She pursued them through the long abandoned Cloister of Trials, and to the chamber of the Fayth. Within, she could here a song she had almost forgotten filling the void at the centre. Though the pit had been covered years ago, it was easy for the pyreflies to escape through it.

She had lost them, had lost him. She collapsed to the ground. Tears flowed freely over her cheeks; emotions she had not felt for two decades emerged.

"Lady Yuna," said a small voice above her. Looking up from her tear stained dress, she saw a small figure floating nearby, his purple hood a sight she had missed, but whose absence gave reassurance.

"Why?" she said, struggling to regain her composure in front of the fayth.

"It has begun again," he said, sorrow laced his features from beneath his cloak.

"Why did you take him?" she demanded, anger replacing her grief.

"It was not our doing," he stated simply. "You must leave this island immediately."

"What do you mean, who's doing it then?"

"Yu Yevon. Sin has returned. Yu Yevon has rebuilt the Summoning. He was called back home."

"But this is his home!"

"No, this is no longer anyone's home. Sin is coming and it is different this time. It is thirsty for blood. We cannot stop it, and neither can you yet. You must leave! You must find a way to release us from the dream. Before we dreamt aeons, and were mere spectators to the summoning, our sleep was relatively peaceful, now though we are part of the summoning. I already feel the pull to return. You must find a way to defeat Sin, and Yu Yevon before all of Spira is reduced to ashes, and all that is left is the dream.

"Please, you must be wrong," she begged. "We defeated Sin, killed Yu Yevon. It is no more."

The figure began to fade from view. "We are not wrong, and your time grows short. Believe us like you did so many years ago." A tremor rocked the ground, causing dust to fall from the ceiling. As the last of the boy's features grew faint, he muttered, "You are too late. Sin is here."