Warning: Noctis/Prompto.
Chapter Two
On the balcony, Prompto saw someone.
However, Prompto wasn't afraid. It was His Highness – illuminating the bedroom, with his presence. He threw the balcony doors open – standing beside His Highness, who laughed dryly and bitterly. He followed His Highness' gaze – directed toward the heavens, which were so lovely.
Then, Prompto sensed fury. He sensed anger – from being earthbound, from being denied peace. His Highness wanted to rest, to reunite with his family and friends. That can't be, as His Highness had unfinished business.
But, Prompto began reminiscing. He helped similar spirits – trying to move on, trying to touch the stars. It's always so heartbreaking – watching them struggle, watching them mourn. It's sometimes tear-jerking, like right now.
Yet, Prompto hated crying. He hid his tears – wiping away the teardrops, using his sleeves. He couldn't forever, his sleeves were soaked. It felt uncomfortable, just awkward and embarrassing.
"Don't be ashamed. It's okay to cry," Noctis said, his apparition flickering. "It doesn't make you any less of a man."
"I know, Your Highness. It's just I'm scared," Prompto squeaked, cheeks flushing pink. "I don't want to fail you. Though, I've never faced a demon before."
"He wasn't always a demon. He was once a man, but he fell from grace."
"What happened to him, Your Highness?"
"I wish I could tell you. You'll learn more through my journals right now than me. They're stored in the library."
"Why not, Your Highness? What's wrong?"
"My strength is fading. I've strayed from my grave long enough for one night."
"When will you come back, Your Highness? You will come back, right?"
"Of course, I will."
XOXO
At night, Prompto couldn't fall asleep.
So, Prompto got out of bed. He walked outside – into the hallway, which were dreadfully dark. He heard whispering – spirits talking quietly, with their echoing voices. He ignored them – their haunted hushed conversations, when they're just remnants. It's just residual energy - events or emotions tearing reality, where realms bleed together.
Then, Prompto saw something. His breath beautifully materialized – shimmering and shining, in his lighter's flares. He shivered and shuddered – rubbing his arms, but began walking quicker. He sensed a presence, that dark and demonic presence. It was nearby, just watching and waiting to pounce. It wanted to hurt him, notably possess him.
However, Prompto isn't normal. He's a medium – channeling the deceased, through himself. He'd be perfect – the perfect candidate, that'll handle demonic possession easier. His body can tolerate the possession, the otherworldly pressure. His gifts are awful, to allow such nightmarish manifestations. It felt like a curse, a punishment from above.
Obviously Prompto won't surrender. He'll never succumb – never allow that thing entry, into his realm. He'll stay strong – free the Citadel, of ghostly inhabitants. He'll help them somehow, or they'll haunt him and his family forever.
"I can hear you," the demon snickered, howling with laughter. "You've been plotting, with His Highness. My descendant is foolish, to think that a mortal can best me. I do find you interesting. I will admit to that."
"Is that so?" Prompto smirked, looking around. "I heard you were a mortal once, that you were human. How hard can you be to fight, then?"
"Why don't I show you, mortal?!"
"Don't hold back, demon!"
XOXO
Without hesitation, Prompto ran away.
In the library, Prompto drew wards. He knelt down – tracing strange symbols, with a chalk. It kept demons away – denied them entry, whether eternally or not. It depended on him – on his faith, which wasn't strong. It kept faltering and fluctuating – belief and doubt, when he faces demonic entities.
In addition, Prompto felt forlorn and forsaken. He felt abandoned and damned – scorned and shunned, by the heavens. He begged and beseeched – for forgiveness and mercy, but hadn't received none. His gifts bolstered and broadened – reinforced and reformed, beyond his imagination.
However, Prompto couldn't control them. He kept excreting ectoplasm – horrifying his parents, who thought he's having seizures. It always happened – during involuntary trances, while spirits manifested. It was awful – witnessing deaths and deaths, whenever he's asleep or alone.
Yet, Prompto is understanding. He helped them – those desperate spirits, notably murder victims. He helped them get revenge – solve their case, before freeing them. It doesn't get tiring – always somehow different, besides challenging and conflicting.
"Who are you?" Prompto asked, eyes narrowing. "What do you want?"
"I mean you no harm. I'm Ignis Scientia, royal retainer of His Highness," Ignis assured, with a small smile. "I came to help you. After all, I heard you were seeking His Highness' journal. And when Lucis fell, I hid them."
"Why would you do that? There must be so much information in His Highness' journal, information we could've used in rebuilding Lucis."
"I'm well aware, but there are some information that must stay a secret."
"You're willing to share these secrets with me, though."
"You're the only one who can help us."
"I get that a lot."
"I would think so."
XOXO
In time, Prompto thanked the strange spirit.
Then, Prompto took his leave. He walked quietly – gripping His Highness' journal, as his knuckles paled. He heard whispering – incomprehensible and incoherent, amid the hallways. He ignored them – thinking they're residual energy, albeit timeless relics. It's just remnants – realms collapsing and colliding, amidst demonic influence.
Therefore, Prompto stayed alert. He remained cautious – cloaking and concealing himself, in the shadows. He used the moonlight – following glimmering and gleaming rays, into the west wing. He then knelt down – hurriedly drawing symbols, including idyllic cleansing charms.
Thus, Prompto cut his finger. He touched the floor – hurriedly drawing again, with his blood. He was securing – binding by blood, which strengthen the enchantments. It's necessary – an important exchange, when performing magic. It's shows devotion and dedication – to those lending him magic, who command utmost loyalty.
Though, Prompto doesn't mind. He needed magic, for fighting and protection. It's quite addicting – casting spells and summoning, foolishly for a mere price. It's the perfect deal – the perfect delightful bargain, fanciful in many ways.
"I know you're there," Prompto said, turning around. "How long have you been watching me, spirit?"
"The name is Gladiolus Amicitia, but you can call me Gladio. I'm His Highness' shield," Gladiolus smirked, with a chuckle. "I was curious about you. I've never met a medium before. You're just a kid, though. You're the same age … the same age …"
"You've only just met me."
"And I shouldn't underestimate you. It's just I don't like relying on someone so young. You're only eighteen, the same age when Prince Noctis died."
"I'm no ordinary kid, though."
"Neither was His Highness."
"You have the two of us, then."
"We'll see where this goes."
A/N: What do you think? Leave me your thoughts.