[#003: Scream(ing)/s] Operation Mi'ihen. There was nothing Yuna could do but dance.
He wouldn't let me. He stilled my staff, shaking his head. My powers were weak, I knew that. But what about his?
"Yuna," Maester Seymour said, his voice quietly gentle, reasonable. "You cannot do this."
He couldn't defeat Sin, I realised, fighting down the lump in my throat. With all his power and his aeons and his . . . dedication to Yevon, he wouldn't be able to defeat Sin.
The Final Summoning was all we had, and I had to obtain all my aeons. I had to complete my pilgrimage. I had to defeat Sin. I turned away from him, my eyes burning from the smoke and my tears, my throat too tight. I raised my staff (and perhaps it trembled when I held it up, but no one was around to notice) and I began to dance along the stretch of beach, now littered with still-warm bodies and wreckages from the machina, now sprayed with blood. I did not even check on who was dead and who still lived, because the screamings had stopped and the air was still.
I danced for everyone that day. The living, the dead, myself. The pyreflies circled around me, lingering before they ascended to the Farplane.