Title: This Is My Story (working title)

by: Tuatha Danaan

Summary: I have travelled a long road, from dreams to memories and back again. Now I must complete the journey.

Classification: Auron fic, Angst, some Humour, not romance (not yet, anyway. ;)

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to squaresoft, but this story is mine.

A/N: I started this prologue a while ago, and during a recent brief hiatus with A Secret Journey I wrote some more scenes for this fic. I hope you all like it so far. I'd love feedback and CC, also any good suggestions for a real title would be welcomed. R & R please, or email tuatha@caloundra.net. Thanks. (p.s. A Secret Journey will be continued soon, and this story will undoubtedly become a longer work then.)


I am not a fiend.

I am not a monster.

It is my daily mantra and my morning prayer as I run a hand over my face when I wake, checking that I'm still human. I haven't changed into something else as I slept. It is a nightmare that I have frequently, one that I am glad to have awakened from. My face is still recognisable, and the stubble I feel reminds me that I need to shave today. I am going to the blitzball tournament, and it wouldn't do to scare the fans off.

Jecht left me floating in shallow water, in a tiny bay of an island just south of Kilika, and it took me a week to get a boat from there and finally here to Luca. I'd had no idea where the boy was, only hoping that Jecht would deposit him somewhere safely. I decided to head here in the hope that the lure of blitzball would bring him here to me, and I was gratified to see him on the sphere when the players arrived on the boats yesterday.

Later I look into the cracked glass above the sink in the bathroom of the inn and wonder why my mind has seen fit to add the appropriate years, although I haven't celebrated a birthday in the last ten years. It is a ghoulish thought and I smile grimly to myself, a lightening of my reflection as I hold the blade of the razor to my throat.

Strange thoughts often fill my mind. I know that if the razor slipped it wouldn't kill me, but I wonder. Would my mind create a new scar for me to carry around? It's another thought that provides vague amusement, even in death I have to be careful not to slip.

I take everything with me, my sword, my tokkuri. I don't expect to return to the inn. I had of course heard that a new summoner was arriving from the isle of Besaid, Braska's daughter. Everyone was talking about the High Summoners' daughter and how she could be the new hope of Spira. Once I find Tidus we will be seeking out the summoner's party to join their pilgrimage. I made a promise to Braska, one to Jecht and one to myself. This time I won't fail. I will keep those promises I made, for all our sakes.