Ah. Dalamud. So is that the memory that haunts him most.

Emet-Selch dramatically motions to the sky as if the red moon still hangs overhead. It doesn't matter if it does or not; Cid is not in his own mind enough to tell the difference. "If the moon falls, then the blood that spills across Eorzea is on your hands."

He turns back and flicks his eyes to Cid's hands to imply he look at them. "Unless there is blood on your hands already...?" There is nothing there, but he is curious about what madness he could encourage.