Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ The Ninety-ninth Sacrifice ❯ I ( Chapter 1 )

I

The continent of Spira is a series of islands and archipelagos that have been plagued by an awful force of near indescribable size for almost a thousand years. The name of this force is known to the people of Spira as Sin. The name was given to a monster for unspecific reasons at the inception of the actual monster over nine centuries ago. However, unlike the fiends of Spira who are created when a person of weak will dies and their body and heart become corrupted because they have not been sent by a summoner, Sin is different. Every ten years Sin is revived by some unknown and evil force, and can only be brought down by the final sacrifice of a summoner. Even though many undertake the quest to defeat Sin, most summoners do not survive to call forth the final Aeon to defeat Sin. This is the story of one such successful quest taken to defeat the evil force known to Spira as Sin.

 

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990 S.A.

 

A young woman stood inside an unfamiliar temple alongside a young man who was much younger than she. To hide her eyes from the hateful inquiries of those on the street above her she wore darkened glasses. The clothes she wore were loose-fitting, unlike those her people normally wore. The young man she was waiting with knew what she was, but he was one of the few within Spira who didn't care. Scared for her husband in the locked room she stood outside, she asked the young man, “How long do you think he'll be?”

The young man shrugged. He had the oddest way of wearing his coat, with one arm using the jacket, without the sleeve, like an armrest. His arm rested on his belt because the fabric of the jacket allowed the stress of his arm to pull on the fabric of the jacket instead of the belt. “I don't know, I've never done anything like this before.”

“Yeah, but,” asked the anxious young woman. “You grew up in Mi'ihen, didn't you?”

“And your point is?” he grunted. His voice belied the true age of this young man. Sounding as though he were forty, the young man was actually in his early twenties.

“I grew up with the Al-bhed on the sea, Auron. I know nothing about Yevon. Well, other than it hates us Al-bhed.”

“If you're so worried about anyone finding out your true heritage Sara, I'd suggest that you would do yourself good not to say such things. Especially when we're inside Bevelle.” Auron was severely frank even when he spoke to a woman who was at least five years older than he.

“Y'know it's really annoying hearing that from someone who has nothing to hide!” she whispered angrily. After a long pause, Sara gave a slight laugh. “Don't you find it odd that Yevon, based here in Bevelle is so opposed to the use of machina, yet even in their own cloister of trials machina is every where to be seen?”

“Shh,” he said, nodding his head slightly to the opening within the cloister of trials. “Do you hear something?”

Anxious about the state of her husband, who had been inside the chamber of the faith for almost ten hours, Sara ran up to the entrance. “Braska!” she called, Auron at her heels.

The door to the chamber of the Fayth opened for the first time in hours, releasing from it a whoosh of musty air. Inside the portal stood a man hunched over from exhaustion. His short brown hair was soaked from sweat; his familiar yet worn clothes hanging from his body. In one last ounce of power, he lifted his head up and gave a wide smile. The happiness was pouring from his startling blue eyes. “Finally!” he cried in exasperation, “It worked! I've become a summoner!”

 

 

 

 

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