A/N: Here we go again. I didn't think I'd really be going back to the beginning. This is going to be a real challenge because most of my theories went into Noctum and now, we'll see where the road takes us. This story has nothing to do with Noctum or any of my other stories. You'll find this out quite quickly. Enjoy!

Adventum Aduro is latin for "The coming of the light".

Carceres is latin for "The starting place of a race".

Carceres

There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.

An isolated nation protected by an ancient line of kings.

A modern civilization alive with the Crystal's songs of swords and sorcery.

A lone kingdom fighting to forestall the outer world from imposing its heretic order.

The struggle for the final Crystal is merely the prologue to the chronicles of a new era.

A procession of three black, armored cars race through an empty tunnel onto an open highway. The moon has just reached its zenith and is at its peak of fullness and brightness. Its beams pass along the glassy skyscrapers of the city and gives the silent night an eery glean. A lone figure sits in the back seat of one of the racing cars. The radio plays to drown out the echoing noise of the car.

"According to the State Minister, the 13th peace conference with the Kings and Nihilsomno ended safely. Within the conference, talk regarding the peaceful use of our nation's Crystal has resumed. Our people hope for a period of peace lasting hundreds of years. Additionally, the time of Prince Noctis' coronation draws near..."

He does not hear more than that. He does not bother to. The talk of his coming coronation never fails to make him feel nothing but apprehension and unease. With the coming of his appointment as King, would be the weighty responsibility of an entire nation relying on him. All those people, depending upon him to keep them safe and make sure that their Crystal would forever keep them safe from the outside world. So much pressure and accountability will be pressed up on his shoulders. It does not matter that he will be controlled. It does not matter that he is still just a boy.

As if he, himself, could forget his youth and inexperience. He saw the looks the Concilium gave him every time he met with them. When he had been younger, he had gone through the typical optimistic phase that only the young can have. The brighter outlook on life that has now died and he knows better than to expect that his decisions be taken seriously. A crown on his head would make no difference. He would be but a puppet to their schemes. At least, that is what they had planned for him. Yet youth, the very thing that they sneered and scoffed at would be their undoing. For with youth, one had the strength to fight longer. Which in this case, he had an abundance of. Winning small battles did nothing for them if he won the war. It was just a matter of biding his time until he could reign without the fear of their wrath. For now, he would wait and pretend to play the puppet like they had trained him to do. He finds it odd to think that they should think his acquiescence to be that of defeat. Passive aggressiveness was how he had learned to live and he has learned ways to vent out his frustrations. His silence would be the weapon that they would not hear striking until he was ready. Until that time comes , he pretends.

What life has taught him so far is that there are moments where you must pretend to be something else. Just like earlier. The end of the 13th peace conference signaled a dinner party to be held in one of the highest penthouses available in Nihilsomno. Everything about the surroundings was a point, a display, to show how ostentatious and prominent their city was to every one else. There was nothing if not the finest in everything. He supposes that makes him out to be rather spoiled. There was nothing of his that was not the best. Second rate being something that he never had to settle for. That is what everyone else thought of his life anyway. The reality was that there was life in the public eye and there was the truth in private. He feels his limitations more prominently when conversing at the official dinners. His comparisons to a lifeless puppet on a short leash of taut strings is most noticeable during these social settings. For the most part, he is able to keep to himself and does not have to suffer too much idle conversation. It is also a place where the high officials all took the opportunity to introduce him to their daughters. All of whom were considered to be quite beautiful. They would not dare show him one that was not. For a spoiled prince was not going to settle for a woman that was second rate in physical beauty.

Beauty, though, is something that he has not seen in his life. The women around him are shiny and painted and pretty but they are never truly beautiful. They never possessed the sort of beauty that would appeal to him. An attractive shell was only just a shell no matter how you looked at it. There was nothing inside, no mystery to be solved and it was this lack of substance that made them lacking his eyes. No amount of flirty eyes could have enticed him. He knew what they wanted and he knew why they wanted him. Had he been as vain and stupid a prince as they had believed him to be, he might have taken most of them up on their offers of private interludes. The momentary pleasure would not have been worth the repercussions he would have had to face afterward. He finds the even the thought to be distasteful. It also helps that he is shy. So it makes it even easier to keep up the facade of an arrogant prince than it is to show the secret person beneath. He knows they would never understand what he really was. There was nobody that would truly understand what he really is. He has already accepted that.

It is with these thoughts running through his head as he was introduced to one lady after another. Fine breeding and excellent manners did not go so far for him either. It only led to witless conversation and flashy smiles did not impress him either. He found himself looking up at the sky more often than not as he listened looked at the light above. The ever present light that reminded him what he was when he could never forget. What he was not sure he wanted to forget.

That is when he saw a flash of white as it whisked passed him quickly. He had been too busy caught up in his own thoughts to see who it had been. It had been more than the sight itself but the trace of energy that he had felt when they had passed that had him turning his head in their direction. The pulsing energy of another. Not just any other, but someone like him. Like him in a way that no one else had been. It had confused him and his curiosity had been peaked. He had turned just as the white figure began to ascend the metal stairway to the observation deck. It had been female. That too had puzzled him as well as the feeling that he knew her. Knew her not in the sense that she looked familiar. It was more a feeling that she was someone that he should know. She was someone that he needed to know.

He thinks that is why he followed her up those stairs. Why of all the women at that dinner, it was she that had been the one to catch his attention. To not only gain his interest but compel him to follow her when it had been him that had been sought after all night. It was like an other worldly experience of feeling that this woman was different. That there was a different kind of woman that he was used to. It was difficult to describe. He had never felt such a strong bond so immediately with anyone. Most especially that of a stranger. It had put him instantly on his guard and then, something else that he had not felt in a long while. She had made him nervous. That should have stopped him, but it had not stopped him from continuing up those stairs so that he could get a better look at her.

His feet took him slowly to the top and he found her gazing thoughtfully at the portrait of the goddess. Her hands were loosely clasped in front of her and there had been nothing about her had been threatening in the least. His usual cynical nature made him think that those were the most dangerous. The ones you thought were safe until the moment you found a knife embedded into your back. He has already learned that lesson. Yet, gazing upon her, he felt himself softening reluctantly. It did not even phase him that it looked as if she had been waiting for him. That she knew that he would follow her up there. He had never seen a more intriguing and enticing sight before. That pull, that feeling of familiarity rushed him closer as she finally turned to smile at him. It was the glow, he thinks. That ethereal glow that had lit up her face and sparkled her eyes that made his senses ignite and heighten. It was nothing but heart stopping.

She was from the Tenebrae party. He could tell that right away from the crest embroidered on her chest. Her dress had been simple, unassuming yet feminine and appealing. It had still been alluring and eye catching without even meaning to. It had been the perfect blend of indescribable and unforgettable. The fact that she was not there to try and gain his attentions made her that much more appealing in his eyes. His brain had wanted to speak but his voice could not form the words. It did not matter that his mind was racing, it could not speak the questions running through it. So his steps had taken him not ten feet away from her when he stopped to try and collect himself.

"Lord Noctis," the bright creature behind him had spoken. "You can see the light, right?"

The question had surprised him enough to break out of his stupor and walk closer, only to stop when she looked up towards the stars. No one had ever spoken so freely about it with him before. His eyes had followed hers to look up at the familiar light briefly before he turned to watch the awed wonderment on her face. He knows he has never looked upon the light with such fondness. His interest was peaked yet more.

"Was that what you were looking at from downstairs?" she asked as she took a playful step towards him.

The directness of her question. The openness in her tone, made him step back and try to walk away but she followed behind him. How she could be so upfront so as to confess that she had been watching him takes him aback. She had not even bothered to be coy about it.

"Pretty much. When did you start seeing it?" he asked with his usual facade of casual indifference. Outside, that is, though on the inside he was anything but indifferent.

"When I was a child," she had answered in a small, sad voice as she continued to walk beside him.

"A near death experience, I presume?" His tone may have been aloof but he had listened with rapt attention for her answer.

"Yes..." she responded and it was the first hesitation he had heard in her. "You too?"

"It was pretty horrible," he answered with a shake of his head. That was not something that he liked to think about.

There was a pause as they walked and then she spoke again.

"The goddess Etro shall open the gate, welcoming the souls of the dead. When that occurs, a bright light shall shine through the skies from the land of the dead," she relayed. The way that she spoke had him pausing in his stride to look at her. "That is the legend. It is a Tenebrae legend."

"We have the same legend here," had been his response.

"Did the light give you power?" she had asked and her tone became playful again, tilting her head in a somewhat teasing manner.

"No," was his response, with a shake of his head and a wave of his hand. "I do not need anything like that. I am fine as I am."

"I know, right?" she asked excitedly. "No matter what kind of power it is, if it was at the cost of someone's life..." She stops to shudder. "It would give me nightmares."

Then she should not have ever spoken to him.

"Same," he said instead with that same unfeeling emotion. "But it is a ridiculous bedtime story," he commented. Then he had issued her a warning. "You should not speak to others about the light."

"Why?"

"Being different can cause a lot of trouble," he replied as he sat down on one of the lounges. The statement is left unfinished as he looked up at her. "Do you not think so?"

"But if it were just a bedtime story, what do you think the light really is?"

Together, their faces had turned to look up at the light again, but it is the sight of her that he found more fascinating.

"It is merely something that is there. Is that not enough?" It was a rhetorical question and he did not give her time to answer before he was on his feet again. "You are...?"

"Stella," she answered.

"Stella," he repeated as he tested the sound on his tongue and found himself smiling at her. "I should be going."

"Thank you for your time, Prince Noctis."

"Just Noct is fine," he had quickly added. He could not have born remaining so formal with her. Despite his words, he had hesitated his departure in favor of staying with her another quiet moment.

"I must get going too," she said before the moment stretched too long. She took a few steps away from him. It had amused him that this entire interlude had been completely the opposite than the ones with the women downstairs. He felt a strange urge to call out for her to stop but she had already stopped to look back at him. "I feel like I have received something from the light tonight," she said as she looked up at the light again. "I got a chance to speak with you."

His reaction had been to shrug with a smirk before replying. "Well, now you will have nightmares."

Instead of taking offense, she turned playful again. "You're a mean one, aren't you, Prince Noctis?" she laughed and he found it to be natural and not forced. Which had endeared her to him even more.

"Noct," he reminds her with another smirk.

"I will call you that the next time we meet," she promised with that same almost shy smile that made him feel something he had not felt before and could not name. "You should come to Tenebrae sometime. I'll show you around."

"That sounds interesting. I shall think about it," he answered, giving her another smirk.

She smiled another one of those smiles before she rushed away and out of his sight. Automatically, he had looked up at the light.

Who are you? The voice whispered to him.

"That is my line," he had answered angrily. It did not matter that he had been thinking the same thing. He turned abruptly and made his way back to rejoin the party and become the controlled puppet once more.

It is only now, during the dark hours of his many sleepless nights that he can escape to the temple of Etro and let his thoughts roam free. He finds solace here, within this moonlit chamber. That is where he sits, on a black throne within a lonely room, as he thinks over the events of earlier. Of how he had come to meet Stella. The images of her face played and replayed in his memory and the pictures still caused that unknown feeling to well inside him. How odd that they should help him as he tries to find rest. It is within this veil between wakefulness and sleep that he hears the familiar chants in his ears.

The kingdom sleeps and children's groans never diminish nor can they hope.

This tragedy destroys every beloved thing in front of them. And within this never-ending night, look there, the real vision on the edge.

I will see you and the next morning the time will awake.

The voice is haunting and melodic and after hearing it so long, it is almost soothing. Much like a dark lullaby to help him sleep at night when he knows he will not sleep. Often times he feels like a divided man faced with tragedy at every turn. His gift is only that of destruction and his punishment is to bear and endure the fears of everyone around him throughout time. It is what makes him uneasy when he thinks about being king and finally inheriting his throne. For then it would be true. He would be carrying, within himself, every fear and dread that his people suffer. In this city of never ending night, there was nothing to escape the nightmares of the dark. Nightmares of which you cannot escape, though you may wake.

As his breathing slows and evens out, he can feel himself relax against the melody of the song only he can hear as it whispers in his ear. The pull of sleep is just about to grip himwhen a frown creases his forehead and he blinks open his eyes. He hears the sound of echoing screams as he raising his head from resting upon his black gloved hand. He moves to stand up as he feels that something is not right outside. He calmly walks out of the inner chamber to see why he feels a disturbance.

He is just outside the doors, between the two murky, tearful statues of the entrance when he sees his bodyguards lying dead on top of the stone steps. Looking at them briefly, he looks onto the street to see a small infantry of armored soldiers. Red eyes blink at them as he tries to place where they might have come from. They look surprised to see him standing there alone. Their confusion disappoints him. Unafraid, he makes his first step towards them when one of them regains his wits and opens fire upon him. That seems to make the rest regain themselves as the rest open fire as well. Bullets fly towards him but he does not even break his stride as shards of crystal fly about him and his weapons protect him from the fire.

Another test. Another show of revolt. As if he were some sort of side show to be displayed. If a show is what they want. It is a show that they will get. He raises his fingers before his face and swipes down with a swift stroke. The motion causes his weapons to appear and flash around him. They begin to swirl around his body and with a quick flick of his wrists, he grabs his choice. His eye flashes red as the sounds of revying erupts from his sword. They made the first move. He shall make the last.

Rushing head long towards them with bullets flying towards him, he swipes and slices bodies as he runs. His movements are fluid and precise as he exacts revenge against this intrusion. He catapults himself off the arm of one soldier while snatching a gun from another. Gripping a pole, he swings his body as he returns fire to his enemies. Using that momentum, he lands with his legs around the head of one man and twists his neck. His feel have not even touched the ground, before he flicks both wrists and throws his own knives towards the front line. One tries to shoot him in the back before he is on him. Using his sword, he traps the gun within the hilt and twists. There is the sound of crunching and breaking bone along with a scream of agony as he dislocates the man's arm to use his own gun to fire upon his comrades.

They pause in their shooting and he makes his way back up the stairs to take care of the ones climbing down the walls of the temple. Their attempts at following are thwarted when he pushes them back as if they were reeds, away from him. He is here and he is there. Then he is not on the ground any longer before he appears along the walls himself and uses the gravity of his falls to bury his sword to the hilt within the bodies of his foes. His movements are so fast that they know not where to shoot to hit him. Until he is upon the ground once more and they finally realize that bullets will not penetrate his shields. So they try to shoot him with something stronger, something more explosive. It flies towards him in the blink of an eye and a dust cloud surrounds his form as it impacts. Until it evaporates to show the displeasure displayed upon his face. He glares back in warning as his weapons create a whirlwind around him to make his point before casually strolling back to where he had come from. Only fools would follow.

It almost felt like it had been a dream as he makes his way back into the inner chamber and sits upon his throne once more. Assassination attempts were not too common, but they happen often enough that he does not feel compelled to think about the bodies he has left outside. These were dark days and he was on the verge of fully gaining his power. There would be many more attempts on his life, he is sure. Though this attack tonight had been rather different.

"Noct!" shouts Philologus as he throws open the chamber doors. His glasses are hanging precariously on the edge of his nose. "The crystal's been stolen!"

End Note: Let the adventure begin!