Summary: In order to receive the Crystal's power, Noctis must have the blessing of the Six. However, cruel irony would have one such blessing held by the very god who started the Starscurge Noctis seeks to cleanse; Ifrit would never bestow his blessing upon him. Just as Shiva was reincarnated for her blessing, so too must Ifrit be forced into a new vessel in hopes that the new Infernian would be more gracious. However, the cost of such an act will weigh heavily upon one of the brothers...

"Soooo...the Crystal belongs to the Six?"

Prompto scratched his head, brow furrowed and lips upturned as he considered the idea. He knew the Crystal was important, and powerful. And everyone in Eos knew the king protected it, for the sake of Lucis, and the kingdom prospered in return.

Still, he had never taken a moment to contemplate where exactly the Crystal had come from.

"Exactly." Ignis turned another page in the book he was pouring over, sitting as he was within a self-made nest of similar tomes. It had been Ignis' idea that the group ought to study what exactly Noctis was destined to protect, that they might be a help rather than a tag-along to the Oracle's quest. When it became apparent that Lunafreya was seeking to wake the gods, and in light of their ordeal with the Titan, the man had quickly convinced the group of the need for them to be better prepared.

He'd markedly left out the part where they would spend hours studying though, Prompto noted with disdain, as he returned to the book in front of him.

"The Crystal was gifted to humanity by the Six. That we might prosper without their constant interference. Essentially, the gods gave up control over humanity, and allowed us to control a fragment of their power for our own end." Ignis went onto explain, a touch of sadness in his voice as he spoke, "Apparently, this was a poor choice on their part. We clearly can't be trusted with such power without starting a war..."

"Maybe. Beats praying to the Six and hopin' they agree every time we needed something. Bit of free will and all." Gladio retorted, pulling out another scroll to obediently read, "Can't deny we've done some good with the Crystal too."

"True. But over time, we have clearly tainted the idea with greed."

Ignis' reply set a silence over the camp once more, as the four continued to leaf through and decipher the knowledge they had gathered together. Noctis, however, found his eyes settled on the same point in his book, unseeing and blank to the words printed upon it.

The Crystal belonged to the Six...gifted, along with the Ring of the Lucii. His legacy. His inheritance. His burden. Once the ring was passed to him, so too came that overbearing responsibility, to channel the power of the Crystal, the gods, for the good of humanity.

If he failed...

His eyes flicked up from the page then, an a horrible vision came over him; his friends, torn to pieces by daemons, or worse...features twisted, warped, as the parasite of the Starscurge overcame them.

The prince's silent terror seemed to alert his adviser, as green eyes observed him quietly over the rim of his glasses. Noctis was grateful that the man did not alert the group to his fears, and instead, shut the book before him with a light click.

"I fear we've been up late enough for all this. If we peruse these works any longer, Prompto may be inclined to start gnawing on them..."

Prompto's face lit up with a grin as he got to his feet, stretching out stiff and weary bones.

"Does that mean it's dinner time?" He asked, with more than a hint of hopefulness threading through his words. It earned a slight half-smile from Ignis.

"I suppose."

"Finally!"

The two of them wandered away from the campfire to start preparing the food (or, more accurately, Prompto would hang around Ignis like an overexcited puppy as the other man tried to cook, Noctis thought to himself), and the prince was left with the warrior.

He wasn't sure what phenomenon it was, but Gladiolus seemed to be able to read Noctis' feelings through silence.

"You wanna talk about it?"

The man's gruff voice offered little sympathy across the night air, but Noctis was glad of it. He didn't want sympathy, nor coddling. He wanted answers...he wanted truth. And no one was more apt to tell him straight than Gladio, even if the words would cut Noct's soul deeply. He appreciated that about his friend, and often relied on him to drag him out of the dark moods he was prone to.

A balancing act. Their whole group was a balancing act, designed to keep Noctis from falling.

"The Crystal...if I wanna use its power, the Six have got to choose me. It's their Crystal, they get to decide. I gotta be chosen by it, right?"

"Yeah..."

Noct looked up then, a stern face half-alight in the dancing flames.

"Luna's waking up the Six for me. To ask if they will bless me. You all fought Titan, for me. What if it's all a waste of time? What if I can't—" Noct's train of thought broke off to a frustrated grunt, teeth clenched as he looked away in some sense of shame that he wasn't good enough for the loyalty of his friends, "What if the Six won't bless me? Titan was pretty pissed to see us, and he's not even the most worrying of the lot."

"If they won't bless you, we'll fight 'em till they have to. Like we did with Titan." Gladio's response was exactly as expected, but did little to soothe Noct's concerns. The prince turned to look at him again, the frustration of his voice beginning to echo on his face.

"It might not be that easy. Think about it. The Crystal's power is gonna be used to cleanse the Starscurge. And if these books are to be believed, who started the Starscurge?"

He gestured an open palm across the piles of books they'd acquired through their travels, every one of them having slightly different information, slightly differing tales of the Astrals. But one fact rang true within all the interpretations.

"Ifrit." Gladio noted, eyes also dropping to observe the books before them, "You're worried about the Infernian."

"Shouldn't I be? He's one of the Six, the Crystal is his as much as their's. He's not gonna bless me to undo all his work, is he? You think the Crystal is gonna be happy with five outta six? What's the point of me even going to the other five if this guy is definitely gonna refuse to acknowledge me? How can I even be this so-called Chosen King if one of them doesn't choose me?"

Noctis' frustration nearly boiled to anger, though it was fuelled by the inner feeling of doubt, the constant hounding in his mind that he simply wasn't good enough for all this, that he simply wasn't his father. More than anything, he wished his father was still with them...to protect them where Noct felt he could not, to advise him where Noct felt so utterly helpless...

Gladio watched the man's turmoil echo across his features, and sighed heavily through his nostrils. Half of the battle was getting Noct to believe in himself, or at least stop dragging his feet in the process. The man had a strange lack of self-worth for one who was surrounded by people who would die for him, and Gladio couldn't begin to understand how Noctis couldn't see that.

"We'll figure it out. Maybe Lunafreya's already got it covered. Can't imagine she'd set off to wake the Six without a plan."

"Indeed. Desperation may fuel us all, but the Lady Lunafreya is no fool. She surely has a plan to bring Ifrit to his sense."

Ignis' voice heralded the return of he and Prompto, the blonde balancing three plates across his arms where Ignis carried only one. No doubt the gunslinger had insisted to carry the dishes in some act of helping the other; ever since Iris had pointed out the group's reliance on Ignis for the basic acts of survival, Prompto had taken it upon himself to help where he could.

It may not have been much, Ignis noted, but the gesture was far from unnoticed, and not unappreciated.

"'Sides...she's figured out a problem way more complicated than a moody Fire God." Prompto said, handing Noctis his food, "Didn't Shiva like...die a while back? Luna said she's wakin' her up too, so if she's got a plan for that, she probably has a plan for Ifrit too. We just gotta worry about getting the blessing once she does, yeah?"

"I guess..."

She knelt in the night, in a crudely-drawn circle embellished in dying candlelight. Whatever confidence she feigned upon her face was betrayed by her voice.

"And...if I take his spirit and give it to you...you can summon another Messenger like yourself to house it? I can begin the act of reincarnating Ifrit?" Luna's voice was quiet in the dark, and seemingly addressing nothing.

"Yes. As you did for Shiva, so must you do for her foil; you harnessed the undying spirit of Shiva and gave her a new vessel in me." Gentiana, the raven-haired Messenger, appeared as though she had never left Luna's side, still and calm so as to blend into the night air around them, "As you defied death for her, we shall defy the darkness for Ifrit. His spirit must be removed from his current incarnation, and placed within another. It is our only hope, to place his spirit within one who may be more willing to give unto the King his Blessing."

Luna nodded her understanding, and brought her hands together. A low glow began to encircle her closed hands, a star in the gloom around them.

The starlight began to heat, and the air around her hands began to waver and warp with the act. Where the light once bloomed white, it now began to scorch with cinnabar. Her skin began to peel and blister, and it was only with the thought of her duty unto the world that the Oracle held on, her eyes screwing shut in the pain of it.

And then, in the air around them, shattered a howling scream. It was not a sound of pain, nor torment, but one of defiance, one of understanding and rebelling against the current.

"You have hold of his spirit! Do not let go, Oracle!" Gentiana's voice only just made it over the tearing, heated winds that swirled around them, drying the ground under them into sand in minutes. "Rend it from his physical form, now!"

Luna's lips parted in a pained gasp, as she felt phantom talons clawing up her arms, pulling wounds all too real upon her pale flesh. Her own powers exhausted and drained her lifeforce, making her body frail as she woke the Six; the act of dragging an unruly god's spirit from its current physical body was near shattering her bones and she wondered if she would even survive this encounter long enough to wake the next god for Noctis.

The image of the midnight-haired prince flickered across her mind.

She would not let him down.

With a cry of anguish laced in pure will, the Oracle demanded the spirit of Ifrit, tearing it from him despite the realms between them; the act blasted her backward, caught in the arms of Gentiana.

The winds died to nothing in an instant, leaving the pair surrounded in heat-scorched sands and an echo of the Infernian's wrath. In her hands, Luna held a shaking grip upon the burning soul of Ifrit.

Forcing her eyes open, Luna offered the spirit unto the Messenger with a shaking arm.

"...Take it...for a new vessel—"

As Gentiana made to reach for the flame within Luna's hand, the spark burned blinding light, before exploding into ashes and dancing away on the breeze.

Luna's eyes became wide, and she all but stumbled to her feet.

"No! No...what happened?! The spirit...it was there, I had it. For Noct—"

She turned to her Messenger, her usual composure for a moment fractured by her worry that she had failed her prince. And yet, the Messenger's face was calm, if not troubled, as she watched the direction of the breeze.

"Ifrit's desire to be free burns bright even within his soul. Perhaps it is not surprising then, that he would not have his next incarnation chosen by Shiva..."

"Then we must find who. Noctis must know where Ifrit now resides."

"I fear he will not need to look far, my dear Oracle..."

The camp was settled and frozen, blanketed in the soothing calm of the night sky under a painting of stars. The fire had simmered down to embers, providing little heat to air around them.

Noctis had long since retreated to the tent to sleep, though his tormented thoughts of failure did little to ease him to rest. Prompto had nodded off, a soft snore issuing from parted lips; Gladio was taking watch until the early hours, and Ignis had rather ungracefully for one such as he, fallen asleep onto an open book, glasses half-knocked on his nose for his awkward position, face resting on a chapter regarding Shiva's first incarnation.

Unseen by all, lightly glowing ashes floated across the ghost of a night breeze, raining near-invisible specks over the campsite...