-Final Fantasy X is the property of Squaresoft, and no infringement is intended. This story is for personal entertainment only. Notes are at the end of the fic.-


The Via Purifico was more of a nightmare than rumors let on. It seemed so innocent on the surface - the walls were dark brick, but unassuming; lights were few and far between, but still present. Piles of rubble blocked easy access to other parts of the prison, but there always seemed to be another way. It seemed the designers had labored to provide a maze that would promise hope to its prisoners, but never deliver on its word.

This Braska noted with amusement as he traversed the corridors of the second level, his eyes darting over every detail of the cracked masonry and darkened corners in a vain search. He did not feel the dread this 'path of repentence' was supposed to inspire, but his nerves were on edge even so - the man he had come down to search for was nowhere in sight, so far. Auron would still be alive - he must be. The man was strong, amazingly so, and Braska had no doubt he would be able to survive long enough to be found.

The question that worried him was... would Braska be strong enough to find him?

He had been warned before coming down here that it wasn't the prison itself that killed its victims - how could it? It was simply walls and stone, and vast expanses of saltwater. The maze certainly did a good job of sapping one of their will, stringing its victims along with only a tiny sliver of hope - the possibility that they might escape. And indeed, it was a possibility, but as the Crusader said... in most cases, the prisoners were devoured by fiends long before they reached the exit.

That wasn't a thought he relished. He had no aeons to defend himself with yet, and that would be the case for quite a while longer if he failed to find his would-be guardian. The time to enter his Trials was drawing near, but a summoner must be accompanied by at least one guardian. It was tradition, and that was important to Yevon and his church. Braska was sure enough in his power that he thought he might be able to make it alone if he tried, but he was wary of angering the Temple any further.

"Where are you?" he murmured aloud, pausing to glance around a turn in the corridor. It was identical to the one he stood in, and the next one would probably be the same. Had Auron been fooled by these twists and turns? Surely not.

Sensing no fiends nearby, the priest edged cautiously around the corner. He felt a sudden urge to curse Kinoc as he crept forward, keeping his gaze sharp on his surroundings. 'You're lucky they're willing to let him out. If you want him, go and get him. They're not going to look for you.' Bah. Easy for him to say - he was a warrior through and through, just like Auron. He had his sword to keep him company in places like this, while Braska had only his staff and a few weak offensive spells.

"They'd have my head, Braska. I'm sure Auron will manage to get out on his own. What kind of guardian would he make if he couldn't?"

"Are you telling me that your promotion is more important than your friend? Is that the honor Bevelle teaches her monks, now?"

His lips pressed together in a frown, and he firmly put the thought away for another time. It was Auron's right to choose whether he would be angry or forgive, and Braska had no place in the decision. But given a choice, he would dearly love to have Kinoc dressed down for his behavior.

"Don't go down there, Braska, you're not stro- Braska!"

He smirked. At least Kinoc had been worried. Perhaps he would be forced to follow.

The walls slanted away abruptly, widening into a an octagonal chamber that reminded him of the temple's gathering rooms. The ceiling vaulted into darkness above, and the lights set into the walls shed swaths of faint illumination that stretched across the floor but failed to reach the center. The symbol of Yevon lay in shadows, all but obscured.

It occurred to the priest that entering an open space like this would be unwise, but there were no other corridors to follow in the hall behind him; across the room he could make out an opening, and another to his right, but he would have to cross the chamber to reach either of them. Perhaps if he stayed away from the center and kept to the walls, they would afford him a little protection. Fiends would have to cover more ground to reach him.

But which way to go... Braska paused at the mouth of the hallway, gazing intently at the first exit, and then the second. He kept his path thus far firmly in his mind so he would remember how to reach the exit once he found Auron; it would be easier to continue straight ahead, but if it led to a dead end or another convoluted string of turns, they would be in trouble. His sense of direction was adequate, but nothing to gloat about.

Then again, the same possibility applied for the right path. He supposed it didn't really matter.

Braska edged into the chamber cautiously and veered left along the wall, his focus settling firmly on the door straight ahead. His robes whispered too loudly over the stone, his own breathing harsh in his ears until he could have sworn every fiend wtih ears would be able to hear it echoing from the walls. The opening suddenly seemed very far away.

The maze was still quiet, aside from his own progress across the chamber. But it was the silence of death, the same pall that loomed over a city when Sin was nearby. He hadn't noticed it before. The quiet seemed to grow heavier with each step he took, and instead of cursing Kinoc, Braska found himself railing against his own foolishness.

I was stupid to do this alone. I should have convinced Kinoc to accompany me. It appeared he was still a child in some wys: overconfident, reckless, full of his own invincibility. One would think a life tempered by Sin's presence would have beaten that out of him long before now. Auron is going to kill me. He tried to smile at the thought, veering as close to the wall as he could without tripping over the rubble, but it faded into a grim line. That is, if I survive to reach him.

It was with that cheery thought that he paused, just before what he determined to be the halfway point. Something glinted at the corner of his eye, out in the dim expanse of the room. Braska searched the floor, tried to pierce the shadows without much success, and took a few steps back. He caught sight of it again; something was reflecting the light, but it was obscured by rubble. It looked like metal... perhaps it was a weapon of some sort, a sword or a dagger, something more useful against fiends than his staff. His robe caught on a jutting brick when he moved forward and he yanked it free, impatient to investigate this so he could return to his search.

His skin crawled, the further he walked from the wall. The shadows seemed to be watching him, ready to pounce, but he could see nothing threatening within their depths. Despite the knowledge that there were fiends about, their absence gave him confidence, and he ignored the uncomfortable feeling between his shoulderblades in favor of this curiosity that had caught his eye.

It wasn't metal at all, Braska observed as he reached his destination, but something smooth and glassy, like an eye or a recording sphere. He frowned. A last testament?

Flinging caution to the winds, he crouched down and pried the fallen bricks away to reveal his prize. Its surface was mottled with black and gray, but it was indeed a recording sphere - an old one by the look of it. Nothing of Auron's, at least.

When he reached out and touched it, he knew his mistake.

The mottled surface shivered and recoiled, and he threw himself back. The glass shattered to reveal something he'd only read about a handfull of times in his studies. Mimic. Black mist oozed out of the rubble like poison to form some semblence of a humanoid form, glittering here and there with remnants of broken glass. Braska scrambled back and tried to regain his feet, but his robes tangled about his legs and sent him to the floor again.

All he could do was stare as it shambled forward. Little pinpricks of light glittered within the dense, shadowy form, and once caught in their gaze he could not turn away. Was this the power of a mimic? He'd read nothing of it in his studies. They took many forms, but the most common was a treasure chest - he didn't understand why this one would deviate.

I was fooled, wasn't I? Braska had enough presence of mind to edge away, but he could not tear his eyes away to concentrate on escape. The mimic wasn't going to let him get away - it hastened its shuffling steps, almost upon him, and its eyes brightened. Yevon help me-!

"Look away! Quickly!"

Auron! He trembled in relief, but his gaze was still held captive by the advancing shadow. Look away, idiot! He gritted his teeth and tried to turn his face away. It felt as if the air had turned to jelly and solidified; even his limbs refused to cooperate when he tried to move further away.

"Braska!"

Desperate, Braska bit down hard on his lower lip. His eyes watered with the pain and he rolled out of the mimic's path, line of vision broken by tears. The mimic struck - glass clinked and skittered behind him.

A strong arm clamped around his waist and hauled him to his feet, away from the dark form of their adversary. The mimic hesitated, seeming taken aback by the new arrival. He drew in a shaky berath, sickened by the taste of blood. "Auron-"

"What in Yevon's name are you doing here?" The warrior released him and pushed forward, holding Braska back with a bare arm. He was holding a dusty sword was in his other hand that hummed with some spell he couldn't identify. Not his guardian's usual fare. "No, never mind that - do you have any spells ready?"

The mimic came to a decision; the shadows swirled and coalesced into a more human form, mottled black smoothing into layered robes, shadows forming into a familiar face - his own. Braska shuddered. "Nothing spectacular."

Auron readied his sword grimly, never moving his gaze from the enemy. "Do what you can. And stay back."

He didn't need to be told. Now that Braska found himself reunited with the warrior, he realized with sinking certainty just how stupid his decision to venture into the Via Purifico was. He had put his own life in danger without a thought for his own mortality, or how it would impact his friend. If he didn't receive the dressing-down of the century when things were finished, he would be lucky indeed.

The mimic glided forward with inhuman grace, glaive held ready. Its eyes glimmered with the same light that had captured Braska, and they stepped back as one, Auron taking the opportunity to adjust his stance for battle. They would run out of places to run if something wasn't done soon.

The priest struggled to regain his equilibrium as he took another step back with a prayer to Yevon on his lips. He tried to focus on the fiend's presence without looking at it, and in the end he settled for staring at the eerie replica of his robes. Braska turned his gaze down and pushed his hands out, thumbs locked, to visualize his spell. Fire wavered and lanced into the shadow like a lightning bolt. Auron followed swiftly with a slash, and the mimic dissolved back into shadow with a roar of pain.

"We're going to have to run." Auron backed away as the creature collected itself, his hand grasping Braska's arm. His expression was grim. "Do you remember the way out?"

"Behind us," the priest managed, glancing back at the darkened corridor. His guardian nodded and pushed back. The mimic crept toward them again, more cautiously now that its victims had proven to have teeth.

"Enough of this." Auron's grip on his arm tightened and he turned his back on the creature, shoving Braska toward the hallway. "Go!"

His body leapt into action before the words could fully penetrate his mind, and he dashed down the corridor with the hem of his robe hiked up, followed closely by Auron and the mimic's keening cry. Braska risked a glance back, but Auron pressed his palm into his back and urged him to keep going.

He could no longer hear the skittering glass that marked the fiend's movements once they turned the first corner. It might have stopped chasing them once they left the chamber - it had no reason to pursue them when it had such an effective ploy set up where it was. He couldn't deny that it was clever enough for that... he only hoped it wouldn't be smart enough to realize they would tire, and stop, and be easy prey all over again.

As his scattered thoughts predicted, Braska began to tire. He wasn't used to such difficult physical trials; his legs burned, and his lungs screamed for air. He faltered despite Auron's urgings to keep going, gasping out a hoarse, "Stop," before coming to a halt himself. The wall was suddenly his best friend - he leaned back agaisnt the chill surface with a sigh and tried to catch his breath.

"Braska, we must keep going." Auron gripped his shoulders firmly, almost as if he was trying to hold the priest up instead of allowing the wall such an honor. And for the first time since his arrival, Braska had the time to notice what a mess he was.

Ebony hair was everywhere, and the sleeves of his red kimono were in tatters. His personal weapons were gone. It looked like he had met every fiend from one end of Via Purifico to another, yet... there he stood, hardly out of breath, and still hefting the old sword like it was a featherweight. Braska shook his head at the sight and tried to smile.

"I cannot continue without rest, my friend. I'm not used to this sort of thing - not yet."

"You shouldn't have come down here!" A line marred Auron's brow. Concern was the only thing apparent in his voice - thankfully, anger was not present. "What possessed you to do this? You could have been killed-"

Braska cut in smoothly. "By my own stupidity, yes. You must have been nearby - I would have met you if I had not been foolish enough to go treasure hunting." He grimaced and spit out a mouthful of blood, with a wince for the coppery taste. "I've learned my lesson."

"I would have found my way out." The warrior tilted Braska's face up wtih his fingers and wiped blood from his chin with the pad of his thumb. His other hand squeezed the priest's shoulder hard. "Please, don't put yourself in such danger again, my lord. It is my responsibility to protect you - I can't do that if you throw yourself into harm's way like this."

"Jyscal suspended your sentence, Auron... but only because I have already accepted you as my guardian. The High Priest was dragging his feet - if I hadn't come..." Braska chuckled a bit sheepishly, avoiding the younger man's eyes. "Well, I suppose you would have gotten out on your own, as you say."

Auron's hands fell to his sides. The priest could feel his gaze like a heavy weight, as if his hands were still on his shoulders. "Will they release me without a fight?" He sounded doubtful - something Braska couldn't blame him for, all things considered. "No one is allowed to leave this place once they are sentenced. We both know that."

His guardian's words reflected his own worries; it was another tradition of the Temple to leave its prisoners to rot in the depths of this prison, where they could be safely forgotten. No one had ever been pardoned once they reached this point, and Jyscal's word was only good until the High Priest managed to find a way around it. Auron's release was not an official decree... it was simply a temporary pardon that would allow him to fulfill his duty as a guardian. It was clear they hoped Auron would die on the journey. That, too, would allow them to forget about the incident.

It seemed that was all there was left of Bevelle... politics beneath the cover of religion, scheming for power and fame. His illusions of their integrity had been shattered long ago, when he first returned from the Al Bhed home with his wife. If he had not needed the Temple's guidence to become a summoner, he would have taken Yuna far away.

Arrangements would have to be made for that - he refused to leave his daughter to Bevelle's mercy.

"Kinoc waits for us on the other side," Braska said finally, breaking the heavy silence. He looked up to find his companion scanning the shadows they had run from, but when he looked back, there was no sign of the mimic.

"Kinoc...?" Auron seemed to chew on that thought for a time. "I see."

The priest pushed away from the wall with only slight protest from his muscles. His swift recovery was Yevon's blessing, he supposed. But he would have to work on his endurance - he wouldn't survive his pilgrimage if he couldn't withstand a little running now and then. "Shall we continue?"

Auron abandoned his contemplation of the corridor and offered him a supporting arm. "Of course."

It wasn't far to the last chamber. They crossed quickly and ascended the last stretch of stairs, both welcoming the sight of the iron-bound door at the top. A sliver of light assured that Kinoc was still standing watch, waiting for their return. Braska was surprised, though he didn't let it show. He'd half-expected to be locked in along with Auron.

It seemed the right time. Braska took a deep breath and slowed his pace, forcing his guardian to hang back with him. "I'm sorry, Auron."

The warrior paused, one foot poised on the next stair. Braska looked up, found himself captured by a pair of russet eyes and Auron's deep, reassuring voice. "No apologies, my lord."

He nodded, and picked up their pace. No apologies, and no regrets - that was what he'd told Auron, when they first began to speak about the pilgrimage. He wanted his last journey to be full of warm memories, love and friendship, and the comfort of his guardian's presence. They were strong together, and he had no doubt they would succeed.

There was no time to be wasted between them.



(Finished: 06-27-02 - 2:02am)

Notes: If a mimic can take the form of a treasure chest... why not something else? *shrug* Judging by their name, I'd say they can do more than hide in a box. ^.^ Ah... I know it's sort of unrealistic and abrupt, but I never intended this to be a "real story". It was supposed to be a practice scene between Auron and Braska, and I guess it still is, but it's more of a stand-alone thing now. ^^ Obviously, I need to work on my portrayal of Auron. I'm not sure how I'm doing with Braska at the moment, but hopefully I'm having better luck with him. /He's/ the one I'm obsessed with, after all.

Music: Path of Repentance (FFX OST).