This is a fill for a prompt on the FFXV Kink Meme on dreamwidth. The prompt is "Anytime any of the guys use powers from the crystal, like materializing a weapon or using a spell, drains Nocts' life force. Noct however tries to hide it from them for as long as possible til he ends up collapsing in battle. Bonus for Noct coughing up blood but trying to play it off as nothing serious."

I kind of took it and ran with it. It's a bit of a slow build, and there's so much other angst besides the Crystal, but it'll get there.

Also, the title of the fic comes from Kamelot's Insomnia, on their album Haven, released in 2015. I highly encourage everyone to go listen to it, or at least read the lyrics.

The Shadows Growing Tall
prologue

It starts happening the day Insomnia falls.

Noctis doesn't notice it right away. He's in too much shock, unable to process that he no longer has a city, a home to return to, a father. There's a good chance that the hundreds of people he once saw daily in and about the Citadel no longer have life—the Citadel itself doesn't exist now, and that's a dizzying thought, one that he can't seem to wrap his head around. How could everything have gone so wrong? He was going to Altissia to marry Luna just like Niflheim wanted, they were supposed to finally have peace. He stares blankly at Ignis, his eyes glassy with disbelief. They're all asking him if he wants to turn back, but all he can wonder is, what's the point? He agrees regardless, because he doesn't know what else to do.

A crazy thought enters his head then: maybe his dad's not really dead. Maybe he's escaped and in hiding, or the newspapers simply have it wrong. Neither thing is an impossibility, and it's better than thinking about the alternative.

He brushes off the concerned looks and words his companions give him, slightly buoyed by the desperate hope he's clinging to, and it's not long before they're all heading back to Insomnia, to the Crown City Checkpoint they'd left from just a few days—now a lifetime—before. He has to see for himself. He has to know whether it's true.

The sight of all the soldiers at the checkpoint makes Noctis swallow hard. It should be the men and women of the Crownsguard up there, manning the booths and waving people in and out of the city. That Niflheim is there instead, that there are MTs with guns and axes, of all things, causes bile to rise up in his throat. He barely has a moment to take in the sickening sight, though, for Ignis is pulling off the road onto a small dirt path, the one that forks off to the small reservoir he used to sneak off to and fish at sometimes when he'd been younger. If he remembers correctly, the other way leads to a hill that overlooks a good portion of the entrance to the city.

As soon Ignis stops the car, he jumps out and takes off running, not having the patience to wait on the others. When he pulls a sword out to take down some lurking MTs around the corner, he feels a slight tug at his core, and frowns. He's always been aware of a sense of power lurking in the shadows any time he's pulled one of his weapons from the Armiger, a faint whisper across his consciousness. The very first time Noctis had successfully accessed the arsenal, his dad had told him the sense of power was the Crystal, judging his worth to use the arsenal and finding him acceptable. It had been a strange sensation, but after a time Noctis had become used to it, and soon found it to be... familiar, if not really comforting. This time, however, feels different. He's never experienced a tug before.

Yet it's such a fleeting moment, and he doesn't have the time to focus on it. He chalks it up to distress making him feel off and redirects his attention to the battle ahead. Tossing his sword, he warps after it, using his body weight to force the MT down on the ground as he drives the sword into its skull. Fluid that is decidedly not blood—and it's still weird, despite knowing the MTs aren't human—leaks out onto his hands, but he ignores it, already up and warping to the next MT.

Once they reach the hill, the fragile hope Noctis has been holding onto shatters as Cor confirms the truth, the finality in his voice evident even through the phone. He stares out at the city that's no longer his, barely aware of the light rain drizzling around them as his thoughts swirl frantically about his mind. He has no idea what to do next. Behind him, he knows the others are waiting for him to give an order, to tell them what to do, but all he can think about is how much he really wants to fall apart.

In the wake of Cor's phone call and everything that happens afterwards, Noctis doesn't think about the slight tug again for some time.

I haven't actually finished writing this fic yet, but I've been outlining it, and it's currently up to chapter eight. Because of school it might be a bit slow, but right now I see no reason I won't finish it.