-And he can still feel Aten, the fear, the concern. (Zveran shouldn't be doing this. Not alone, not like this.)

There's something nagging at the back of his head, like something he had forgotten, but-

"What do you mean?" The words echo off the ruins around him. 

Once your pilgrimmage is done, brave soul, no pain will touch you. 

No pain. Well, he knew he was to die. It is only fitting he feels nothing of Masque's touch. 

He just...to kiss them, one last time, to tell them that he loved them, that he only wanted them to live-

-for a moment he cannot breathe-

Your life before will mean nothing, summoner. Come to me. Bring your pain. We will end Spira's sorrow with it. 

Lies, lies, lies.

Zveran feels the pain of Aten's words, and falls-

A soft gasp, and then-

My son. You found him!

"No-!"

No.

Zveran feels Aten's fire thrill through his veins, and tries desperately to tamp it down. 

"Aten, no!"

You would deny me my son, summoner?

"N-no, Lady Yunalesca. I would ask you judge me without his aid."

He's bullshitting, as he desperately pushes Aten from his mind. 

It hurts. It hurts. But he's so scared, and he doesn't know what to do, and he doesn't want to go back.

He forces himself not to feel, to block Aten, as much as he loves him.

He's the summoner. He dies, not his beloved. 

Oh, Zveran. How little you know.

The door to the final Aeon slides open.