Yunalesca and Zaon were lovers, but that was the exception.
The summoners and guardians who stood proudly before Yunalesca had been old friends, siblings, sometimes even rivals. Many had lost their loves, and wanted to believe their deaths would somehow add meaning to senseless loss.
Yet few lovers had ever sought the Final Summoning. Why die for Spira when one had true love? What lover would kill one's beloved? Only the lord and lady of doomed Zanarkand had dared.
Crusaders and warrior monks had never before arrived together, either. But Spira's politics mattered little to Yunalesca.
These intrigued her. Two mail-claid women, comrades-in-arms. A soldier burning to die for her captain. A captain who honored valor above all, allowing her champion to fight to the death. Their love was forged in steel, and their swords defended one another with fierce devotion.
Gauntlets covered their hands in battle, where they had slain hundreds. But Yunalesca could see beneath the armor, sense the traces of burning fingertips on flesh when the gloves came off.
Passion was their sword. Each was the other's sheath.
The next Sin would be strong indeed.
"So be it," said Yunalesca. "Guardian, kneel."