Chapter 4: Messenger
It didn't take long for Prompto and Ignis to join the others at the front of the Crow's Nest, and at the sight of their arrival, Sania gave each of them a nod in recognition. "Just in time."
Noctis gave the two a quick nod as well, before he turned his attention to the researcher. "Alright, now that we're all here, what's up? Gladio said it was something super important." Noctis crossed his arms and awaited to hear the explanation.
"It is. It's to do with the Hunters as of late. Not at all about frogs this time, so nothing to worry about on that end."
There was a brief twinge of sadness on Noct's face, either as if he had happily expected the issue to be about frogs, or perhaps it was alarm at anything that suggested that the Hunters were in trouble. Gladio himself had noted the absence of them. "Another monster on the loose? Is someone missing?"
Sania shook her head. "Everyone is accounted for. The problem originated in the highlands west of here, near the Aletheia."
Most people knew the body of water as the Forgotten Pool, southwest of the Malachi Pond, but Sania could be trusted to call the pool by a proper name. After all, why would anyone call the place 'Forgotten' when everyone knew about it and it had an accurate placement on the map of the kingdom? Whoever had forgotten it in the first place couldn't get upset about that, could they?
Noctis nodded at the good news that the Hunters weren't missing, but he noted the lack of answer to whether monsters were loose. "Is it too dangerous for Dave's crew to go there?"
Prompto was wondering the same thing, to be honest. Why are we here in Longwythe if the problem is down there?
Sania pushed up her glasses. "I'll tell you outright, but there is the chance you won't believe me."
"Why not?" Prompto tilted his head. "We've caught weird frogs before, with all sorts of colors and weird water-skating powers to match." He pressed his lips to a tight line to make sure no word left his mouth on what they could do; as far as the doctor knew, they were nothing but exceptionally skilled 'finders of things' and not a prince and his retinue, capable of black magic and summoning weapons from thin air. She even mistook Noctis as being an actor in a play, which was funny. Weird, but funny.
As if to answer her question, the door to one of the rooms in the motel opened. A figure stepped out, draped in a dark and heavy leather gown that brushed their ankles. No part of them was uncovered, in fact; they had matching boots, gloves, the gown sported long sleeves, and the mask on their face was reminiscent of a bird— a crow, maybe— and they wore a wide brimmed hat. They only thing that suggested that they were human at all was that they walked on two feet, had four limbs total, and were taller than they were wide.
That figure, who or whatever exactly they were, looked to Sania and gave a single nod. She returned it.
"We're clear," she said, and motioned for them all to follow her back across the road to the Three Z's.
The crow person kept their head bowed as they entered the motel room, and said nothing.
The sight of the room spoke for itself.
The establishment in its entirety had been transformed into an impromptu infirmary since who knew when. The single beds were placed on alternating sides of the room for the crow person to walk to each one without fear of collision, and each bed had an unconscious hunter resting on it. They were still breathing, but not much else.
The crow doctor went to one patient and gingerly took a cloth that had been placed on the patient's brow, then placed it into a basket that rested at the nightstand close by. They procured a clean cloth and folded it into a strip one hand wide, and set it into a basin on the nightstand filled with water and infused with herbs. The crow doctor let the cloth soak, then placed it back onto the unconscious hunter's head. They went to each bed and did the same for each hunter, before returning to the first to observe.
Prompto couldn't help but make some observations of his own. The room itself smelled sweet; from what he could see, the nightstands beside each bed had not only its own basin of infused water, but its own smudge pot. The pots were small enough to fit in someone's palm, and whatever was burning in it was potent enough for the scent to carry across the room. It'd helped that the door was closed until not long ago.
On recollection, the place smelled like Doctor Meadow's office. That wasn't a bad thing by any means. Her bedside manner was pretty lacking at times, but she sure made her environment seem welcoming and not harsh. She kept some long and leafy plants for decor, and their scent helped. She had even given Prompto one of his own to take home and care for. She called the plant 'Silvestre', which made him think of the funny-talking cat that pursued the canary but kept getting thwarted by either the bird or the kindly old lady that owned it. Come to think of it… geez, that whole line of association did wonders for his doctor's image. There was nothing else to help with that though, ever since his doctor left Insomnia a few months ago. He wondered where she was.
But that was neither here nor there.
Point was that his doctor had a plant, and this place smelled just like it. It was probably the same one.
The room had been devoid of noise enough that the crow doctor's low and gravelly voice broke the silence. "There's good news and bad news."
"Give us the good news first," Sania said.
"The good news is that none of these hunters are infected with the parasite, that we know of. I'm seeing no symptoms, but there could be something of the parasite that affects them that we can't see with the naked eye. Their clothes are outside being sunwashed; we spare no precaution in these matters."
"And the bad news?"
"That if this hasn't at all to do with the parasite, then it places their condition fully in the realm of the unknown. At least with the plague, these people could find relief with the scent of Daemonsbane, and a hearth fire to bring to mind the light of the sun. If anything worse, we could pray that the Priestess is allowed to come to this side of the world and heal the afflicted. That this may not be a plague at work makes that all the more difficult." The crow doctor added more herbs to burn in the smudge pot.
Prompto slipped away from the rest of the group and approached the bed the doctor was standing beside. He got a good look at the first hunter, and felt a pluck at his heartstrings. The girl was younger than he was, closer to Iris's age from the looks of it, and could've been Junior Crownsguard had she lived in Insomnia. It didn't feel right, that she was part of the Hunters so soon. She should have been in school, making plans for parties, updating the school newspaper, or forming a band with her best friends as her life's dream.
Yet… it didn't really matter how he felt about it. The fact was that she was a Hunter, and so she was trusted to put her life on the line and do it without the benefits of royal magic backing her up. She must have proved herself already, must have been strong. Still would be, when she recovered.
"She looks like she's sleeping," he said aloud.
"That's the impression, but they've stayed in this state for the past few days, now," the crow doctor replied.
"The best action we've taken is warning Dave and the leaders of the different hunting divisions so they do not approach the Aletheia at night," Sania added. "I believe there's a connection between this and what's there."
"So…" Prompto scratched the side of his face in curiosity. "What is in the Aletheia?"
"Butterflies."
Noctis raised an eyebrow. "Say what?" They all heard what she said, but… she was right earlier. That was hard to believe.
Sania flipped back a page on her clipboard to check her notes. "From my observations— not close up, mind you— it seems that the butterflies that roam the forest near that pool have evolved thanks to the longer nights. The same way the frogs have mutated to have varied colors and abilities, the butterflies near Aletheia have become more like… fireflies. They light up in the night to warn away predators. It's a sight to see, but…" she shook her head. "It comes at a cost, if you get too close. I suspect that the mutation has an added effect so that they're harder to catch, and moreover, they avoid any form of a struggle and damage to themselves even when they are caught."
"By… knocking out whatever caught them?" Prompto motioned to the 'sleeping' girl.
"Mm. Exactly like that."
"Is there a certain characteristic that we should be on the lookout for? A way to identify them?" Ignis asked.
Sania nodded. "There is. I have just the right thing to show you, and it's better that you see it in action. It's in the next room over."
"Alright, lead the way," Noct said.
They followed her out of the room. All of them except for Prompto, anyway. His gaze still flit to each of the hunters in deep sleep, and he felt the shift of air as the crow doctor moved from where he'd been standing and went to the second hunter.
"Um… Sir?"
'Sir' was in the midst of adding a fresh smudge stick to the second pot and letting it catch flame enough to smolder. "Call me Doctor Beak, if you will. Everyone does."
Prompto nodded. "Okay. Doctor Beak, then. The… Daemonsbane you mentioned…"
"Mm. It goes by many names. Depending on where you are, it could be called 'Astera' or 'Silvestre'. All its names are correct."
Huh? So it is the same plant… and the people here use it against the plague?
He hadn't realized he made a noise until Doctor Beak said, "You sound uneasy."
Prompto shook his head. "I… no, I mean… my doctor used to keep those in her office."
The crow doctor let out a low hum. "The plant is prolific enough that people will have it just to have it. It's a household herb, and its presence doesn't hurt. It makes for very good tea."
Prompto was thankful that subject wasn't broached on whether Doctor Meadow treated patients infected with the plague. Even he didn't know how to answer that, though he knew she was a specialized doctor. He was just prone to sun-sickness and a host of other terrible symptoms, would still be suffering from it if she hadn't intervened.
( While Prompto's gaze was elsewhere, Doctor Beak had given the blond a once-over and determined that if he were infected with the parasite, it was either cured early enough not to be a problem anymore, or the medicine was potent enough to make him look indistinguishable from an uninfected person. That was good, and something that he would have to mention to his superior. )
Prompto went over to the next bed, and felt another tug. He couldn't help but allow a frown to form along with it. The young man on this bed looked about the same age as the girl. They were both brunettes, though this guy had longer hair and wavy bangs. Prompto had the distinct feeling that the two hunters probably hung out together, but where he imagined the girl being friends with Iris, this guy would probably fit well with Gladio. Maybe they'd compare notes on how to pick up girls if Gladio didn't immediately assume the role of 'mentor'.
"Did you try anything else to help them wake up?"
Doctor Beak had gone to the pot beside the third hunter and fed it more herbs to burn. "They will not respond to pain."
Prompto made a face.
The Doctor was quick enough to catch it, enough that it was safe to say that he'd expected that reaction. "Oh, nothing extreme. A needle to the fingertip or toe. That usually startles people. But they sleep the sleep of the dead, or something close."
The… sleep of the dead? Prompto turned around and obscured his summon of the down feather, made it look like he'd truly fished the item out of his pants pocket. He presented the 'phoenix' feather to the crow doctor. "Maybe this would work…?"
The crow doctor stared at the feather before regarding it and its holder with a slow nod. "A reasonable idea, but I've already tried it. They don't stir from the scent of a down feather, though they would if this were a normal predicament. It's as if something blocks their senses entirely."
"Oh…" Something worse than Noct's condition? That was terrifying. He stashed the feather away.
"You had the right notion, though," Doctor Beak offered as consolation. "Perhaps a more potent mixture of spices beyond what's supplied for the Phoenix Down could work, if only we could find what that mixture is. There's risks associated, of course. Allergy or other intolerance."
Prompto nodded. "We'll figure something out."
He got a glance at the third hunter, and saw a head of unruly and dark brown hair that just barely covered a scar that ran from right to left across the young man's face. Could have gotten it from hunting, but it looked too clean and singular to be from a beast claw. Probably got it in a fight with someone, then. Prompto had to wonder if the third hunter hung out with the other two as actual friends, or if he was the loner kind of guy that 'tolerated' them. His perma-scowl suggested the latter.
So Prompto thought, inflicting Noctis on the third hunter would either get him out of his shell, or Noctis would be talking to a wall. But Noct already heard that he was a 'loser' before; someone giving him the cold shoulder wouldn't faze him.
"Hey, Prompto!" Speak of the devil ( or think of him, rather… ), Noct's voice was just outside.
The blond had almost forgotten that the others left the room without him. He motioned for them to wait a bit, even though they wouldn't see it. "I'll be right there!" He turned back to Doctor Beak. "Sorry, I gotta go. But…"
"Hm?"
"Is Doctor Beak your real name?"
"Heh. Of course not. Like I said, it's what everyone calls me. I'm sure you can tell why."
"Yeah, I can." Prompto smiled. Before he took his leave, he bent at the waist and gave a deep bow to the doctor. "Thank you, Sir."
"Oh?"
The blond gave short little nods to support his gesture. "You're trying to help these people. Where no one else thinks they can help, or that they're not supposed to… that you're trying means a lot."
"You thank me in their place."
That was one way to put it.
Doctor Beak did something that he himself considered rare; he took off his hat, revealing a short, shaggy cut of hair that was matted from hat-sweat and caused the 'crow' moniker to gain five more levels of appropriate. The doctor held the hat close to his chest and gave a bow of his own, then put it back on.
"Your concern for them is appreciated, as well."
Prompto smiled bright, and finally took his leave to join his friends. He made sure to shut the door behind him and leave the doctor to his work.
( Doctor Beak took note of the boy's name, and that he was very interesting indeed. )
Noct shot Prompto a 'What's up?' nod as soon as he saw him. "Took your time."
"Yeah, I found out that Phoenix Downs don't work on them. What'd I miss?"
"Not much. We went into the next room over and saw more of the same, except there was a butterfly in there."
"The same kind…?"
Ignis made a so-so motion with a hand. "Yes and no. Doctor Sania explained to us that there are two strains of the butterfly we're to search for. Blue, and red. The blue ones are benign; one landed on the palm of her hand with no change in her condition. The red strain, of which there is only one, is the type that could pose a threat, and likely already has."
"What are we gonna do, then?"
Noctis made a 'finger gun' motion with his hand. "We're gonna catch as many of the blues as we can, so that Sania has something to study. The sooner we get there, the better."
"Heading to the Forgotten Pool this early? What'll we do with the rest of the time?"
Noctis got a sly look on his face that the blond should have recognized and instead couldn't place, but Gladio completed the understanding for him. "Noct's gonna spend all that time fishing."
If Prompto could give the concept of fishing a sideways glance, he would have. For now he directed that glance over to the Prince himself. "For real?"
"Tch. If it helps you feel better, we can eat lunch here before we go over to the Forgotten Pool. At least then you won't be bored and hungry."
That would suffice for an acceptable deal, and it was a good thing that the car was parked so close by. They hopped back in to the Regalia for a short drive from the Three Z's motel to the Crow's Nest Diner to save themselves another road crossing after lunch.
The door to the diner came open, accompanied by a telltale chime. A waitress was ready to greet them.
"Welcome to the Crow's Nest! Name's Dianthe, and I'll be your server today. You all feel like sitting at a booth, or would a counter suit you more?"
"We'll take a booth, Miss!" Prompto said before Gladio could open his mouth to say the same.
With a quick nod and a 'Wonderful. Follow me', the waitress took four menus from a nearby rack and led the group to a booth for them to have a seat in. She set each menu evenly on the table and waited for them to sit while she got a notepad.
"Can I start you all off with a drink?"
"Yeah," Noctis said. "A club soda with lime and mint for him," he pointed to Prompto for that, "a regular soft drink with a lemon slice for him," he pointed to Ignis, "and then two soft drinks with cherry and vanilla mixed in."
"Oo, you definitely sound like you've been here before," Dianthe said as she wrote each drink down. "Sometimes people ask for some really out-there flavors they got all the way in Old Lestallum but not everywhere else." The part where she'd otherwise need to list off their still-extensive repertoire of flavors for patrons new to the diner went unsaid. "Alright, I'll be back with those drinks. Feel free to let me know if you need anything else." Her gaze went to each of them in quick succession before she left to the back.
That left them each to their thoughts, give or take a quick skim of the menu to decide what it is they wanted to eat. Prompto already knew he was going to order a beef pot pie, though. Wasn't quite like the lemon beef stew his mom would make with all the fixings, but close enough on short notice. His mind was already made up on that, so all he had was to lazily kick his legs back and forth and look at his surroundings.
The diner was quaint and cozy, functional and samey. Each branch of the diner looked like the identical twin of any other version of it around Lucis. Gladio had already told him the history of that too, when they first stopped to eat at one.
Story goes that each Crow's Nest was built out of a high-capacity freight car, and each freight car came from the train that first carried the supplies to construct the town known as Old Lestallum. ( The new Lestallum was further north— that was usually the one that people referred to when they talked about "Lestallum" in general. )
Once that work was done and Old Lestallum was built alongside the Wennath River, the first freight car in the train had its wheels removed, got propped up on some stilts and breezeblocks, and it became the first of the diners. Only thing is, the Old Lestallum diner had the additional bonus of a sleeping car attached so that that diner doubled as an inn.
The other cars afterward took one last trip around Lucis to form the different branches strewn around the mainland, until just the locomotive was left. All of the cars were refitted with seats, a counter, booths, the whole works, with a nifty facade on the outside to give it a warm, homecoming feel. Though if someone knew where to look, they could find the car number that still connected it to its origins, and of course Gladio knew where to look. He still had the pictures of the trips he made with Ignis to visit each site in order from the last car to the first.
So Gladio had been to every diner before. Tried it's food before. But he'd never seen this particular waitress before, with her dark-to-blonde hair styled into straight bangs and soft ringlets, and a red hair bow resting at the top of her head. It was so obvious that Gladio was intrigued that even Prompto noticed it, so earlier on, Prompto had caught Noct's eye and signed 'check it out'. Check it out Noctis did, and they resolved not to let Gladio get a word in edgewise to her.
That conspiracy didn't go unnoticed. "You guys know I usually handle the orders, right?" Of course they did. Gladio had asked the question just to ask it.
"Oh, sure, but we wanted to give you a rest from that." Noctis rested his elbows on the table. The whites of Ignis's eyes got more visible at that, and he quickly swatted at Noct's elbow to get them down. Noct swatted him back; if he wasn't actually raised like a Prince and ran around with a commoner name at one point, he couldn't still be expected to act like a noble. Plus, having to keep his elbows down all the time was annoying. That was his likely thought process when he did his counter-swat.
Gladio huffed. "You guys decided on the seating and the drinks, that's fine. But I get to order the food, got it?"
Prompto himself propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his hands ( and Ignis had no reprimand on hand for that ), leaning conspicuously into Gladio's personal space. "Why? We already know what you're gonna say."
"That so? Prove it."
A grin spread on Prompto's face that said that that was a poor choice of words.
Dianthe returned with their drinks and placed them in front of their respective drinkers. "Club soda with lime and mint, regular soda with lemon, and two cherry-vanilla mixes. You all decided on what you wanna order, or you need more time?"
Gladio was this close to saying something—
— but Prompto stopped him with a hand to his face and said, "Don't worry, I got this. Lemme do this for you." He cleared his throat,
and then?
He did his best imitation of Gladio's rumbling baritone with, "Alright, a beef pot pie for Blondie here," he motioned to his own spot on the table. "An open sandwich for Specs over there," he pointed Ignis out for that one, "with everything on it, and make it look pretty because he's big on presentation. Next up is a club sandwich for the visual kei wannabe," which was obviously Noctis, "and make sure you top that one with black olives. He likes his sandwiches extra angsty."
A useful note to consider: that it was Prompto's best attempt at an impression of Gladio wasn't quite synonymous with it being spot-on, but Ignis suffered yet another fit of ice-cracking stifles of laughter, Noct himself was close to a laugh if that visual kei comment didn't send his spirit right out of his body and into the next life from the sheer brass that it took to say it, and Dianthe attempted to hold her composure while her gaze flit from Prompto to Gladio, whose expression grew closer to a picture definition of 'absolute mortification' with each second the impression went on.
"Dude, no," Noctis said, waving at Prompto to put a pause to that joke.
Gladio thought he'd be saved,
until he heard,
"it goes a little something more like this." right before Noctis tried his hand at a deep voice.
"And for yours truly, a Garula sirloin with garlic butter and mushrooms on top of that. I'd prefer if it's done rare— so rare, that if you have the whole Garula, I'll take it as-is. As for the sides, that'll be a side of mixed veggies, and a second side of your number." Noct concluded that with a wink, a grin, and some finger-guns.
"Mm-hm, mm-hm…" Dianthe had written most of the order down, and had pursed her lips to a tight line to prevent herself from any sound that would have involved actual words.
Gladio felt himself have an out-of-body experience in the meantime, and he wondered who he must have angered in a past life to deserve what he was getting. "I swear they're not usually like this..."
The sound of his real voice thwarted Dianthe's attempt at silence, and a squeak of a laugh slipped out. She covered her face with the notepad, though it didn't hide how her shoulders shook.
"I… I think I've got… hehehehe... everything down. I'll be back with your orders in a… in a bit, okay?"
"Take your time," Prompto said in his normal register.
She picked up their menus and left, and the four of them were alone to bask in whatever counted as an afterglow of that entire ordeal.
"Well, that was certainly… an experience," Ignis said.
"Sure was." Noctis looked a little proud of himself. His impression was closer to the real thing.
It didn't matter to the guy on the receiving end of that joke, though. "Should I kill you and Blondie now, or later?"
"How about never?"
Resignation was all over Gladio's sigh, and he looked over to Ignis. "Iggy, you're gonna have to look away for a while. I'm about to commit regicide."
Prompto raised a finger in question. "Given who it is, shouldn't it be 'commit Nocticide'?"
The glare shot in his direction made him slip under the table and find his new seat between Ignis and Noctis.
"I was thinking that too, actually…" the prince admitted.
Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose and tried even harder not to laugh.
As the seconds and minutes wore on, Gladio rethought his life choices, and pondered on his current path. Maybe he could quit his role as Shield and let Iris have it, move to another country, change his name, become a monk for the rest of his days, cast aside his earthly tethers, take a vow of silence and everything. He'd do that, and meditate away all the shame from this event even if it took him a decade or five. Yes. That was a solid plan.
He hadn't known how much time he spent ruminating, but it was long enough that Prompto felt no danger into moving back to his previous seat, and the waitress came back with the platter of their orders.
"Here you are, exactly as ordered. Or… close enough," cue a conspicuous look to Gladio.
He kept his face as neutral as possible, save for the quirk of his eyebrows in interest he'd yet to divest himself of.
"We couldn't get you a whole Garula, but here's a little something to make up for it." Dianthe pulled out a napkin, set it down where he could see it, and flounced away.
Once they were sure she was out of sight, all eyes landed on that slip of paper. The napkin had her name and number, with a Figured you must've been too shy to ask me yourself, and a winky face.
Gladio looked at that thing like it was manna from heaven, or like his soul returned to his body. Then he folded the napkin into a neat and smaller square and tucked it into his shirt pocket, giving Prompto and Noctis a nod each as if thanking them for their business. "Gentlemen."
Prompto and Noctis stared at him as if their souls had fled this earthly realm.
"There's no way..." Prompto murmured.
"B-bakana…" Noctis's head almost hit the table from the absurdity. Ignis was nice enough to move Noct's plate and let it happen.
"No, really, what did I just witness?" Prompto was sure Ignis of all people would have an answer for this, as an outside observer.
Iggy had something close. "It's as the note said. It seems in your efforts to embarrass Gladiolus, she construed it as a pair of friends helping him out by using humor to get on her good side and make his intentions known."
"But all we did was make a pass like he usually does just to show how dumb it is!" If it were possible to eat something petulantly, Noctis did exactly that with the olive on his sandwich. "Are you saying his game's legit?"
"No, I'm," Ignis waved that notion aside, "I'm simply saying that life, uh, finds a way."
"... Where the hell does your accent go when you're doing these quotes?" Prompto was still in disbelief.
Ignis pushed up his glasses, with a smirk exuding a level four smugness. "I'm not telling. Still, this avoids a ride where Gladiolus is either catatonic or sulking, so…" he gave a nod of his own to them, "Thank you both, Blond Gladio and Short Gladio."
Noctis looked at Ignis like he didn't recognize the man sitting beside him. "You know Prompto's shorter than me, right?"
"I know what I said."
Gladio was too occupied eating his food to join in on the conversation, but best believe he savored the hell out of that steak, and had the biggest smile when the waitress came by to ask if they found the meals to their liking.
They rode out west and turned south until they reached the designated parking space between the Malachi and the Aletheia. It was a quiet ride, save for when Gladio would hum a victory fanfare that would cause horror to flash across the faces of both of his unintentional wingmen.
Noct yawned occasionally during the ride, too, though he didn't catch a full nap. Prompto wondered how that could happen, when Noct had taken a nap not that long ago, and he was in the midst of actual sleep not long before that. He'd said once that he and mornings didn't get along very well, but this was to the point where he may as well have opted to wear pyjamas on his trip and carry a sleeping bag instead of a sword.
Once the car reached its destination, though, any trace of sleep left him entirely. He was out the car and down the road in seconds, toward the dock of the Aletheia. Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio weren't in so much of a hurry to get there, but that it was past noon came as a small comfort. They could all find something to occupy the time.
The road and sparse fences guided them to the pool, vast and cordoned off with a chain-link fence. The columns and arches that jutted out from the water were as ancient as ever, and still a little unsettling. Prompto wondered if there was something down there related to the ruins that were littered around Lucis, but it looked like it'd be a long way down, and everything of worth was too sunken to risk a search just yet.
Prompto and Ignis took a seat on some rocks just beside the pool, to give Noctis some space. They'd give the prince some silence in the matters of commentary on his fishing skills, and watched as Noctis cast his line into the water and waited for a fish to bite.
Noct would reel the line back in a little at a time to entice whatever was beneath the surface and trick it into thinking the bait was hapless living prey. On occasion there was a bite and a struggle; either the potential catch swam away with the bait, or Noctis got one more rainbow trout to cook for dinner. And there was a lot, a lot, of rainbow trout.
The blond sighed and slumped a bit. "Man, where does he get the energy for this when he's about to conk out every other minute?"
"Fishing is yet another pastime for him." Ignis shrugged. "It's useful for him, teaches him patience."
Prompto scratched the back of his head. "Doesn't do anything about his sleeping habits, though."
"Mm. Unfortunately, that part is something he can't help, only manage. A history of anemia runs in his family, though his ancestors found a way to mitigate the symptoms."
Noctis wasn't so far away that he couldn't listen in on their talk. "So have I," he chimed in, "What else have I got you for?"
Ignis exhaled sharply, already feeling tired. "You are aware that that means I solved that problem and not you, correct?"
Noctis shrugged, his attention still focused on the water. "Yeah, but you're considered an extension of me, so I'm taking credit. I have to."
"You guys," Prompto made a 'time out' sign with his hands, "no arguing this time, just an explanation, okay?"
"Okay, in that case… anemic. That's the gist of the whole 'tired' thing. Most of what Iggy cooks for me is with that in mind. And I can't just stuff myself wi—" pause, he realized where that sentence was headed, "I can't live off of steak for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, so, I catch fish. Gotta include beans in my diet. Spinach is a maybe. Olives are good, too. You made the right call adding that to my sandwich."
"Huh, I did? Heheh… how perceptive of me. So…" Prompto looked at his own hands for a few seconds before staring ahead towards Noctis, "I guess having to share your magic doesn't help that whole 'tired' thing, does it? All that summoning we do."
"Summoning regular stuff is fine, and I don't feel that different when you guys use magic than when you're not, not counting all the funny background noise in my head…" Noctis got a quick scratch to the back of his head, ruffling his jet-black hair more than normal. "But the Royal Arms of all the other Kings before me? That really takes a lot out of me, but it depends on how many are out." It seemed the mere mention of that caused Noctis to yawn.
"It does more than that," Ignis corrected and directed his next words to Prompto. "Once, and only once, Noctis attempted to summon all the Royal Arms of the deceased Kings."
"All of em? No way… If Noctis is gonna be the 115th King, and his dad's still kicking, that's… a hundred and thirteen Arms."
"There's an exception to be made for Somnus's Royal Arm, which may still be buried with him. He either was unable or unwilling to pass down his Arm to his heir… or perhaps that was simply something that hadn't yet been perfected in his lifetime."
Unable or unwilling… sounds familiar. That Prompto's gaze landed on Noctis with that thought was inevitable. "So, Noct tried summoning… a hundred and twelve Arms. That's not much better. It didn't end well, did it?"
"If lying on the floor out cold is any type of good outcome, then the attempt went swimmingly."
Prompto winced. "Geez…"
Ignis took off his glasses and started to clean them out of habit. "And that is why each successive King opts to summon only a dozen Arms alongside their own personal weapon. Ideally, they summon distinctive Arms, each with their own strengths and weaknesses and suited to that King's fighting style. It's best to have diverse weaponry as opposed to twelve variations of broadsword and yet another one."
"Any of them try, y'know, spicing up the Armiger?"
"One King used a rocket-powered chainsaw in his Arsenal. As his main weapon."
"Oh, that's a good one, Igs."
"That isn't a lie— it's right next to the guitar-gun, brass knuckle-axes, the harmonica gun, the ring-gun, the umbrella-gun, the keyblade, the whip-pistol…"
"First off, that doesn't sound any less like you're making it up, no offense. And second, not gonna say that I'm feeling attacked, but why are the 'weird weapons' mostly guns?"
"Oh, good, I get to give you a history lesson this time." Ignis hooked the glasses onto the front of his shirt and let them hang there.
"Is that right? A history lesson, then. No zombies, though."
"No zombies, you have my word. The truth is that modern-day Lucis specializes in bladed weaponry. Things that can be sharpened in general, to include bows. The Kings are Keeper of Blades for that reason. It helps hone a warrior's senses as well, whereas guns have a… lower barrier to entry, in terms of use."
Intrigue showed in the way Prompto leaned towards Ignis, but that he did was unnoticed even by him, it was subtle. "But it wasn't always that way, right? That's why you make the distinction."
"Mm, indeed. For most of the Ancient Era and before the 400 Years War, the nations were more amicable towards each other. There are Lucian tombs in Niflheim, for example. But Niflheim and Lucis separated when the war started, the gulf between them growing ever greater with each decade, culminating in what we see today. Lucis, with swords and magic. Niflheim, with guns and machinery."
"Huh…" Prompto nodded. "Wonder what started the war."
"Each side would have a different reason."
"That sounds about right…" Prompto looked down at the revolver he had holstered at his side. Everyone else would store their weapons in the Armiger, but he tended to keep his gun and the bullets nearby physically. It… made him feel safe. Didn't quite know why.
Ignis followed that with his own gaze. "That isn't to say that you were wrong in your choice of weapon. The way you wield it… it suits you well. You're a quick draw, and your speed doesn't sacrifice your aim. I'd say your training paid off."
Prompto gulped, and an inexplicable rush went through him. "Thanks…"
Ignis inched closer to him. "You did have expertise on firearms beforehand, did you not…?"
That earned a shake of the blond's head. "I got the gun after I made it into the Crownsguard. It was a gift."
"Let me see."
Prompto's pulse began to race, and he didn't know why for that either. He handed the gun over to Ignis, handle first, and Ignis took it.
He found that he wasn't the only one in the party with deft hands; this was the first time he'd ever known Ignis to hold a gun, and Iggy still knew enough about trigger discipline to place his finger along the barrel, away from the trigger itself. Most people usually didn't get that right on the first try.
The explanation came easily to mind; Ignis joined the Crownsguard a year and some months before Prompto did, and trained as a Junior Crownsguard before then. If there was anything he was least likely to be, it'd be ignorant of the way something worked, even if he never saw himself using it for the rest of his days. So he must have learned how to use a gun just to know how to, and chose daggers for the personal feel of it.
While Prompto thought that, Ignis made some silent assessments of his own, then handed the gun back. Handle first.
"It's comfortable, like it was well-broken in before you received it. Whoever gifted it to you must place a tremendous amount of trust in you."
"You think so?"
"I'm sure of it. They made the right choice in recipient."
"I… Thanks." Prompto nodded, and holstered his gun.
They sat in silence while Noctis continued to catch more trout, but the time wouldn't pass any faster just by observation. Prompto summoned the Origin of the Stars, and picked up where he left off.
The gist of what he'd read was that Somnus founded the Kingdom of Lucis, with the seat of its power at the island east of the mainland. To undertake his journey to cure the plague he was bestowed a Ring of Radiant Light, and for his success in that task he was granted a Crystal with more Light yet, so that his descendants would both protect it and be protected by it. It held limitless power, and he and his progeny were trusted with it above all others.
Stella founded the Kingdom of Tenebrae, and gained a similar but different blessing from the gods. With power over life and light, she and her line bridged the gap between mortal and divine. In the gods' absence, the Priestess would make the gods' presence known on the mortal world via the ascension of what were otherwise common beasts. By the hands of the House Fleuret, the wild of nature was tamed by granting the chosen beasts intelligence and sentience. The Messengers would protect humanity in the gods' stead.
"Huh…"
"Mm?" Ignis had put his glasses back on.
"The Fleurets and Caelums have some… pretty powerful abilities on their side. Sounds like the Fleurets can basically make gods whenever they want. Minor gods, anyway."
"Only when they need to. You've heard of Fenrir, yes?"
Prompto shook his head.
"Tenebrae's Icewolf. The capital of Tenebrae is named after it, in a way."
It took a few seconds to stitch all the information together. "Oh, Ulvar. Their icewine comes from Ulvar berries. Guaranteed the bottle has a logo of a wolf on it."
"Mmhmm. The Kingdom's official seal in correspondence is a wolf-head as well. If we trust Luna's letters, anyway."
There was a twinge of curiosity and suspicion next. "Are Umbra and Pryna…?"
"Related to Fenrir? It would explain their intelligence, wouldn't it? But it's likely that the relation isn't direct; Fenrir himself was created far too long ago to be their parent, and Noctis had the earliest contact with the twins and saw them as pups, with no sign of the Icewolf around. Not to mention it was a true wolf. Umbra and Pryna merely resemble wolves through selective breeding of certain traits back into them. It's likely that after Fenrir could no longer serve as Messenger, the Fleurets appointed a different canid to take its place, and now the role falls upon the twins."
"Huh… Makes sense." There was a note of awe in Prompto's voice.
"Does it?"
"Yeah, it does. … But you know what I'm gonna ask next, don't you?"
Ignis looked both amused and taken aback by the notion. "Knowledge of things is my forte, reading minds is not. What are you thinking?"
"I'm just saying," Prompto moved his hands as if he were balancing something on a scale, "with Stella and Somnus being that powerful, black magic, white magic, all that other stuff… why didn't they…?" He gestured with his pointer fingers and brought them together to signify a union.
Ignis blinked. "You're asking why they didn't marry?"
Prompto nodded. "If they got together, their kids would be all kinds of overpowered."
"There must be a good reason why they didn't, then. Your assertion that the resulting children would be 'all kinds of overpowered' is amusing. What makes you so sure?"
There was a gasp from the blond, a sound of mock offense. "Only a little thing called 'common sense', Iggy! Everyone knows if you mix black and white together, you get gray. Can't go wrong with that. It's the best of both worlds!"
"Gray magic?" It was not the sound of a stifled laugh that left Ignis then, but maybe, maybe, a genuine chuckle. Not at Prompto's expense; in fact, he found himself considering the possibility of that— he could imagine the look on Prompto's face at being right about something that was otherwise thought of as outlandish.
"Wait…" Oh, right, Noctis was still within earshot of the conversation. "If Somnus and Stella hooked up all the way back then, wouldn't that make me and Luna related?"
Prompto shrugged. "Would it take more than five birth certificates to explain how you're related?"
"Well, yeah, I'd sure hope so!"
"Then you wouldn't be that related." Prompto brushed invisible dust off of his hands.
Noctis gave that some thought, and lifted his shoulders in a quick shrug as if to say 'Sounds legit' and kept on fishing.
The minutes stretched on into hours, and Prompto kept reading. He'd had the initial idea to put the book away and catch up on the lore later in the night before rest, but why leave for later what he could do right now? Of course, if he had time before bed, he'd cover even more ground. Win-win!
The passages changed subject; no longer about Somnus and Stella, but focused more on Somnus's descendants. The tense changed from past to present, like the writer had gotten the idea to record the events right then and there for posterity. Sounded like it meant the previous stuff had been oral history. Great; what part of it was real, and what was an exaggeration? He couldn't say. He found himself reading the same line over and over.
He breathed deep and stifled a yawn, rubbed at his eyes and continued to read. At least, he tried his best. The wind smelled sweet, felt refreshing as it skimmed his skin, and before he knew it, his eyes slid shut and he drifted away to the sound of water lapping at the edges of the pond, the whisper of wind, and the scent of something he had a much easier time remembering.
Dreams were strange things. Could he say he was dreaming, really? He felt too 'present' to be asleep, yet too 'away' to say that he was awake. He felt untethered from the people he knew were once around him. He traveled the boundary between sleeping and waking, then. He felt adrift in this sea— that was the right word. Adrift, and the slow rise and fall of his body along this sea was akin to a breath taken and expelled. Rhythmic, profound.
And in the same way the sea touched the land, everything seemed… connected. Thoughts, memories. What he'd already seen and the things he had no idea of, things that had already been or had yet to be, they were one and the same in this world. He glimpsed colors he didn't have a name for, in shades and tints no one in their right mind would mix. He heard music, a haunting ebb and flow that brought to mind a yawning void until piano notes fell together and it all sorted itself out and took on a eerie beauty. He saw runes upon ruins. Towers ringed with green spirals. Stairs and stairs and stairs going any direction. He saw houses, apartments, proof that people lived in this space, but no one was here, and none of these houses had any place to stop and rest— one room simply led to another. Highways and train tracks snaked between buildings and stopped short. The sea crept ever higher and brought the edges of civilization into its depths.
Somehow it all made sense. With just a feather-light brush of his mind on the surface of the concepts, he understood it all, the why and how and where.
This place was…
He was…
Awake, and he knew and remembered nothing of that boundary world.
He blinked absently, unaware of when he'd fallen asleep, or that he'd fallen asleep at all. What lingered was a vague recollection of something more earthly; his gun, and Ignis's familiarity with it. The mention of trust. Maybe… maybe Iggy knew about it before he'd even gotten it? Only… the handwriting on the note…
When the haze cleared, he found that the night would soon finish its chase after the sun and shroud this side of the world. The altered angle from which he saw it all made him stir more fully awake. "Wait, did I…?"
Ignis hadn't moved from his position, and merely turned his head to regard Prompto. "Fall asleep on me?" His chuckle was subdued but there. "You did. I didn't wish to disturb you like I had this morning, so…"
"Huh? No, I … if I was bothering you, you could wake me up no problem."
Ignis shook his head. "You weren't a bother. Did you at least sleep well?"
"Mmhm. Feel like I got enough energy from that nap to last the whole rest of the night awake. You catch a bit of shut-eye too? I mean, no offense to Noct, but his hobby isn't exactly… engaging stuff."
"Mm." Another shake of the head. "I was mostly watching."
( Noctis had long left the dock and out of hearing range of their talk. He was with Gladio, and he attempted to 'subtly' suss out whether the phone number on the napkin was real. Gladio wouldn't fall for that, though. )
The traces of sunlight left, and Prompto saw a glimmer of blue in the distance, flitting between the trees.
"Hey, that's what we're after, right…?"
Ignis had seen it too. "Right. You hadn't seen it earlier, when Sania showed us the one that she had caught. There's the chance to see it up close, now."
The both of them went and reunited with the others, with more quiet shows of iridescence in the distance.
Gladio said, "Now that they're here, our job is exactly like Noct said; catch as many as we can, and bring 'em back to Sania in one piece. But whatever any of you do, don't run." His warning went to Prompto and Noctis; Ignis was the least of his worries. "If these still resemble anything like normal butterflies outside of looks, then they scare easy and float away just as fast. You have to take your time. Again, you're not gonna catch 'em if you're tired."
"Got it." Prompto's nod showed as much.
They followed the butterflies that they had seen, and were led to a flock of dozens more. None of the others had described to Prompto exactly what the butterflies looked like up close, even though they'd seen it. The why was obvious when he saw it; words would fail them.
The best way he could think of it, was that whatever gave them their glow in the night had a life of its own. Their wings were blue and lined with black, and the dark had no effect on their radiance. The light they cast shifted and swirled along their wings, intensified and diminished. Expanded and contracted, like lungs with a breath of air in them, or a tide upon shore. The shimmering blue on their wings were fluid enough to make the pattern inimitable; they barely resembled their previous selves, much less each other. No two of them shone in the same way.
One fluttered by before Prompto's eyes, and he held his hand out to give it something to land on. When it did, it disappeared into glints of light as he sent it into the warp space.
"Got one."
"Same here." Noct captured a butterfly between both hands, and marveled at the mutation for a few seconds. He did the same with it, and stored it away before it got the idea to escape.
One by one, the light in the forest receded, as there was less around to cast it.
"So, these blue ones don't knock people out while, I guess, the red one does, somehow." Prompto said it aloud to be sure. "But wouldn't we have to catch that one too? Just for Sania to check if she's right about colors being the key?"
"We could do that if it didn't cost us," Gladio said.
"I think we oughta. We're not like regular hunters. We have magic."
"Mm, so you suggest that the effects arise from magic, and that we have just the thing to counter that?" Ignis asked.
"Yeah, what of it?"
"... I like your confidence."
"Not to mention…" Noctis got one just as it landed on a tall blade of grass, "these things are coming up because of the longer nights. Maybe they already had something, but now it's worse."
There was no sign of the red butterfly yet, and they went north towards the Malachi Pond.
"You guys think it might've… gone?" Prompto asked. They had close to two dozen butterflies in their inventory.
"I wouldn't count on that myself." Gladio had caught yet another of the blue strain. "There are too many hunters unconscious for its sightings to be rare."
"Maybe it was having a lucky day and managed to catch a bunch of them at the same night?"
"If they were traveling around in bigger groups… it's possible. Plus, the Hunters we saw are probably more used to threats that actually look like threats. Claws and fangs and all that. It'd make it easier for them to fall sick if they didn't know to warn for it 'til it was too late."
"Yeah. Makes sense."
It took time, but the light was fading from this side of the forest, too. Perhaps the red butterfly had gone. All that'd be left would be to hope that the blues were enough for Sania to study.
"Hey… anybody think this is really weird?"
"Er… given our current predicament, define 'weird'." Ignis caught one of the last few. There were less than a handful now.
"Okay. Daemons come out at night. We haven't seen a single one yet, and it's getting really dark without the butterflies. They should've come out by now."
"The butterflies themselves have warded off the daemons from this forest with their mutation, then?"
"If they're bright enough to trick 'em, yeah, it'd work out."
"Quite clever."
"What, me? Or them?"
"I'll let you decide that."
"Gladio, any thoughts?" Noctis failed to grasp one that slipped out of his fingers. He hadn't gotten to it in time, and it flew ever higher.
"A few. Animals were pretty strong on their own before daemons showed up to take their spot. Even the stuff the hunters chase in the daytime are awful to take on. More 'delicate' animals like butterflies? They're nothing to sneeze at. Bugs like those can feed off toxic plants and work the toxin into their bodies. Not enough to kill a regular person, but we don't know what they're capable of anymore. That might be what's going on here."
"So before daemons killed people, animals and bugs killed people. If other people didn't do it, anyway."
"Yup. The 'good old days', right? People wouldn't have to wait until night time to fear for their lives."
There was nothing to light the landscape anymore but the distant lampposts in the parking area, so the four of them huddled close together and then they walked at an even pace back to the Regalia.
Prompto stuck his hands into his pockets. "That was all of them, and still no red one. Report back to Sania and tell her what we didn't find, or…?"
"It's late enough that we should make lodgings our first priority. No use in a success here only to fail on the trip back. That no daemons interrupted us doesn't mean we'll be so lucky elsewhere." Ignis paused for a quick adjustment to his glasses, but he was nice enough not to leave his answer on such a grave note. "Thankfully we managed this without you needing a change of clothes this time."
Prompto sucked his teeth. "You're still on that? That happened a while ago."
"It happened yesterday."
"Yesterday counts as a while, dude."
A red butterfly darted out from the trees as if a black-and-bloodied arrow loosed from its bow.
Ignis had only enough time to call out Prompto's name in warning as it headed right for him, only enough time that alarm flit across the blond's face in acknowledgment that he'd needed to watch out for something. But the blur of red and black struck him, and he knew nothing more. Ignis could do nothing except catch him and keep him from hitting ground, and the next move was to summon a Phoenix Down in hand to rouse him, when the words from before stopped him in his tracks. They wouldn't work. Prompto had said so himself.
But… that was only on the others… it'd be different for Prompto, he was imbued with magic. Ignis got the down feather out anyway and held it close. It had to work.
It didn't.
A powerless thought thrummed in the back of Ignis's mind— I should have noticed it sooner. Should have listened to what Prompto had said.
The blues had kept the daemons at bay with their light, and the red one was among those it kept away. That had to be it. To wander too far from their light, or get rid of their light entirely… without them, the daemon in their guise could do as it pleased. But now it was nowhere to be found. Where did it go?
Gladio didn't ask what happened, and didn't need to. He and Noctis both summoned the same Royal Arm, the Shield of the Merciful King, and held it up while keeping Ignis and Prompto under their cover.
"Iggy, keep it together!"
"How?" The demand from Gladio seemed as ludicrous as did an imperative to breathe underwater unassisted. "If I hadn't distracted him with a pointless joke, he'd—"
"Don't focus on that right now. Think of what to do next. That's what you do!"
Gladio… was right. Ignis had to shake away the thought that he should have connected all the information earlier. "For now… if we see it, we must try our best to keep it from attacking us. But do not kill it unless there is no other choice." None of them yet knew how it worked, or what it did when its victims went under. They couldn't harm it, not with the risk that doing so would hurt Prompto and the other hunters as well.
Wh… what happened?
Prompto only knew he wasn't dead yet because he could still feel a chill along his skin. He opened his eyes, and saw someone unconscious right beside him— a man wearing a long jacket and black pants, a shotgun not too far away from his hand. The same man from before, with the long brown hair.
A frisson of panic shot through Prompto and got him to his feet, and he turned to spot the others. The girl that looked like she could be Iris's friend. The other guy, with the scar.
He went over to each of them and checked to see if they were still breathing, and he was thankful that they still showed basic signs of life. But they were in no better condition than they were in back in the motel. Prompto tried to summon a Phoenix Down to see if it would work here, but nothing came to his hand. How about a Potion? Nothing there either.
He didn't have any access to Noct's magic? It must have been an effect of being here.
Where was here?
The world around them was featureless. The dark grey floor spanned as far as he could see, and even beyond that. If what he was looking at when he turned his head up could even be called a sky, then that sky was black, with grey clouds. This was like… if he could take a guess, since it wasn't possible for the same person to be in two places at once in a physical sense… these were— rather, this whole place was a soul trap. His real body was where he'd left it.
Do I… walk? Find out where exactly I am? How would I know where to go? The bodies— the hunters— were lined up in a row. They must not have gotten that chance themselves, to wander around.
The beat of wings sounded from behind Prompto and he covered himself on reflex. He felt the wings flap against what they could reach of him, yet no talons scratched at his arms. The wing-beats wound down given time, and he uncovered his hands.
The bats were coalescing into…
"Oh, you are not a butterfly. Nowhere close," the blond said.
It was a red humanoid body with a black carapace and yellow eyes. Black horns and ridges and too-sharp teeth in a wicked grin. A long tail and gargantuan wings that kept it aloft.
"A bigger daemon than usual." Prompto aimed his gun at the beast. It had to be responsible for the hunters not waking up, if they were stuck here and just as unconscious out there.
"More than a 'daemon', child." It flew upward and around in a vertical loop. "You will be my entertainment."
"Like hell!"
Try as he might, his attempts to pull the trigger on his gun were reduced to mere twitches of his fingers. Why couldn't he shoot?
"Agree to my game. Entertain me."
"What? How? What do you want?"
"Play with me. I win, and you are mine. Just like…" the daemon ( Prompto would still call it that, for lack of better terms ) gestured to the hunters that lay still.
It seemed the only thing Prompto was allowed to do was put his gun down, and he did so reluctantly. "Then if I win, you'll let everyone go?"
"Yes. If." The daemon swirled its fingers in lazy circles in the air.
A current of energy took shape in front of Prompto. He attempted to retreat, to no avail; his feet wouldn't respond. The energy exploded and caught him in a maelstrom of darkness and contracted inward just as fast. His knees gave out and he collapsed, his strength close to sapped from him.
"The hell was that…?" Why couldn't he have dodged it? He had more than enough time to. Had this been the real world…
It wasn't, he realized. This was the daemon's domain. Probably made it so that free movement didn't apply, and that'd account for the neat row of hunters. That 'restricted movement' rule applied to it, too, from the looks of it.
He fought past the pain he was in and got up, and in a fluid motion he lifted the gun again and fired. It was easier now than before.
The daemon reeled back from the hit, but showed no marks otherwise. Come to think of it, neither did he, even though he felt beat-up.
Again the hand motion, and again the dark maelstrom. It wasn't as strong as before, it was smaller, but it wouldn't be all that wise to think that it was because the daemon was going easy on him.
It was a weird 'game', but he was getting a hang of its 'rules'. They took turns. They were allowed one action per turn. They couldn't move otherwise except to talk, attack or do whatever else was in their power. He fired once more, and the daemon lunged at him to sink its claws into his skin. It hurt, but he'd just have to pull through, wait for his turn, attack again as soon as he could.
He noticed something else, too. Something that he hadn't before. Each time the daemon cast its magic, its wings gleamed in the same way he'd seen on the butterflies; a 'living' light just beneath the creature's surface. He didn't know what it meant, until he made a motion to shoot again and saw the same 'current' running along his own arms.
… To be honest, he still didn't know what it meant. He wasn't Ignis, able to deduce things at a mile a minute. He just trusted his gut, and said gut was twisted into knots. It pulsed in time to his heartbeat, in time to the current that grew bright and then dim.
Who else could he trust, if not himself? No one else could help him, not now and not here.
He stowed his gun away and hoped for the best, as he willed the daemon's same magic forth. Both of them couldn't move, both of them had to wait their turn, and everything else. Both, both, both. This had to work, too.
It did, kind of.
He had expected the ability to cast. The energy that coursed through the daemon instead lifted in plumes of light right from its skin and rushed straight to him. Wait… What? What happened? He patted his arms, his chest. That light was inside him now? Though he hadn't a clue just what he'd done, it was enough that it angered his 'playmate'.
This time, each trace of the daemon's fingers in the air beckoned more bats from the aether. They congealed into a mass of black. It grew in seconds, kept growing, enough to envelop the daemon itself. It wouldn't. The daemon wasn't the target. The creature launched the mass right at him.
Couldn't run. Couldn't brace himself. It was only a second before it overtook him anyway.
He couldn't hear. Couldn't see. Couldn't be. Made no difference what he did, or tried to do. There was no floor beneath his feet. No gun where he could reach. He had nothing — I am nothing — and he was empty where he expected anger or fear. Did acceptance cause this, or apathy?
Was this what being dead felt like?
First nothing. Then everything. His thoughts were blown about. Scattered in a gale. Torn right out of his head. The rest of him felt the same. Colors shapes light ohgodhewasgonnabesick
His knees gave out and he fell forward— his arms broke his fall, only a miracle he didn't hurl up his everything. Limbs shook under the strain, and each breath burned like his lungs had been pulled out of him, blasted with buckshot, then shoved back in for him to deal with it.
On the outside he didn't look hurt at all. His insides were different. Emotions, or entrails? Bit of both. Gods, maybe it'd be better if he hurled, he was cold and sick and — I can't… I can't really be this weak, can I?
The thought gouged deep. I can't be this weak. He expected himself to be made of tougher stuff; he'd joined the Crownsguard, after all. Was trusted enough to have a weapon he hadn't trained with before. He couldn't die this soon, and not like this, in a place where no one could find him.
His vision had started to blur, and the tremors got worse. He whispered to himself to keep it together, keep it together. He couldn't die here, so he wouldn't, and that was that.
The thought occurred to him that of course he wouldn't die, and that made him feel worse.
If he lost, he wouldn't die. He'd be unconscious to everyone else, but still breathing, stuck in a coma like the hunters before him. The hunters wouldn't be saved. He wouldn't, either. More people would be caught in this monster's trap and forced to play its game until someone found the solution to it. What if that never happened?
At least with death there was closure. But he tried to imagine what it would be like for his parents to hear that news. What would they think? That he was being punished, denied the Goddess's embrace when so many others returned to Her? Or would they think that rejection a blessing, think him capable of recovery, and stand vigil over his motionless body every day? The thought of them having to put their lives on hold for him, again? He couldn't bear it. They deserved so much better than that.
But at least he had that much. He had his parents and their faith. How many of those that were already unconscious had loved ones waiting for them to get better? Not everyone had the same amount of hope, the same amount of time in their lives they could afford to put aside for someone else's sake. At best, those loved ones had faith even if they hadn't the time to express it. At worst, they had neither time nor faith, and had already moved on. Or maybe those people never existed at all, and the hunters had no one to look out for them except each other.
They deserved better than this non-life, too.
He staggered back to his feet.
He may not have been blessed with kingly powers like Noctis, or as skilled a strategist as Ignis, but it didn't matter. He owed it to the missing hunters to return them to the world of the living. So it wasn't a matter of if he'd win. He'd do it. He had to. And were the daemon to win instead, then he'd make sure that that victory cost a lot.
The pulse of magic took a steady rhythm in the back of his mind. He felt both the living light and the dark current; they were one and the same thing, came from the same world that was ancient and nascent at once.
The spell formed in pinpricks of light like stars that converged in front of the daemon. They turned to streams. Blackened into shadowy tendrils. Picked up speed. Exploded like a grenade but with pitch instead of shrapnel. The image of the daemon warped and twisted in the storm. A hairsbreadth outside the boundaries of the maelstrom were faint gleams of blue.
No impact of the daemon hitting ground just yet. Red and black wings could still bear the creature's weight. That spell may not have killed it, but Prompto was at least hoping it hurt like hell.
The daemon looked ready to cast something of its own. Prompto braced himself for another hit of the sapping spell, the gravity spell or whatever it was.
No such thing came.
Instead it was the rush of wind and light. Warmth seeping into his bones. A breath of air that wasn't pained. He felt… good as new.
A reward for being able to wield the daemon's magic? That was… unexpected.
"A quick study. More entertaining than the others."
"That so?" Prompto swept the back of his hand over his mouth out of habit, and little hints of confidence worked into his smile. He got the feeling this wouldn't be over yet.
At no signs of daemons or butterflies or both approaching, Noctis dispelled the Shield and crouched beside Ignis and Prompto. "Should we move him?"
"I'm not sure," Ignis murmured. If none of them had known the truth, they'd have thought that Prompto was just asleep. The retainer kept both voice and actions subdued, mindful of the passing fancy to run his fingers through Prompto's hair as he had that morning. This was a deeper sleep than that. He couldn't try it now. And Noctis was watching.
Gladio didn't sense any danger either, so his Shield dissipated as well. "Can't imagine our trip going on with just the three of us."
"We shouldn't have to." Noctis took Prompto's hand and held it in his. "He should be awake and with us."
Ignis gulped and blinked back whatever feeling was bubbling up in him. "If his condition doesn't improve, we… we finish our mission and report to Sania. We have more than enough specimens for her to study."
Gladio noted something odd, but said nothing of it. "We might still be able to do something here while we can."
Noctis nodded to that. "Yeah. Prompto may be unconscious, but magic-wise, he's still connected to me." The bond had grown faint, but it was there, and Noct couldn't yet deliver any bad news that would change Ignis's expression. The empty look alone was like Ignis had seen hope pulled away from his grasp one too many times.
Noct's grip on Prompto's hand grew a little tighter. "There has to be a way to help him get better that we haven't tried. That I haven't tried."
"What are you… saying?" Ignis seemed afraid to speak any louder as if a higher decibel count would disturb not only Prompto, but their very surroundings.
"I can boost Potions so that they heal better than usual. Maybe, the fact that I can do that, means … what I'm saying is, Prompto might be right about that whole thing with black and white magic."
In any other situation, Ignis would have told Noctis not to think of something so foolish, and not to do anything rash.
Instead he said, "Do what you can for him."
Another round, another powerful gravity spell. It hit hard enough that Prompto didn't know which way was up or down in the void of grey or black, but a moment's span of blinking and seeing the lifeless bodies still there beside him helped all too well in setting him on the right direction. He kipped up and got ready for his turn.
He'd cast the spells he'd drawn out, and pulled more from the daemon. He got the hang of the cycle. Draw gravity magic, then cast from the 'stock'. The daemon had no choice but to counter-heal him for it as part of its 'rules', even if it did resort to a claw swipe or tackle a second later. Sometimes those missed, sometimes they didn't. Prompto had drawn more magic besides the gravity spell, but this routine worked fine as-is.
"Why not change the rules?" Prompto asked. This was a daemon, right? They were all about malice, backstabbers in a figurative sense if they weren't also literal. But this one took every bullet and gravity spell Prompto could lob at it when it could easily dodge, given its massive wings and abundance of space around them.
The daemon didn't seem to mind its constraints. "Not as fun if the rules change. Never needed to before."
It had a point, given how many others it had caught. Though he hated to think it, its adherence to fairness even at its own expense made it rather endearing. But the game had to end sometime.
Prompto thumbed more bullets into his revolver, aimed, and emptied the whole thing into the daemon.
Its strength had finally given out with those last wounds, and it alighted on the ground, wings draped around its form.
With the daemon's descent, Prompto got a distinct feeling as if something had finally lifted, and he took one step, and then another. He could move, freely at that.
One of the wings gave way to his touch as he pushed it aside; it had all the pliancy of a heavy curtain. The daemon didn't move outside of that. At this distance, he felt the warm huffs of each heavy breath it took.
"You said you were more than a daemon... you weren't always like this, then, were you?"
"Don't know. Can't remember," the creature rasped. "Too much sleep. Woke up not long ago."
"You mean, you woke up not knowing what you were before?"
"Maybe." It took a deep breath, this time. "Your terms?"
"My terms… you let everyone go, and I'll… I'll help you find out what you really are."
He tried one of the other spells he'd drawn, the one that wasn't gravity magic. That the creature could cast it meant the same applied to him as long as he had it in stock to cast, so he summoned the rush of wind and light and warmth, and hoped that the forgotten 'daemon' felt like new.
It let out a low rumble of a laugh, and he took it as a good sign. "You are… interesting."
"The name's Prompto, actually, in case you were wondering," he replied. "So… does this 'more than a daemon' have a name?"
"A name? Yes ... Diabolos."
He didn't ask as to whether that was a recently conjured name, or a thread to the past that the creature still held to. It was a name, and it'd do, so he gave a quick nod in confirmation. "I'll keep that in mind."
Behind him, the fallen hunters faded away into the aether, if such a term applied to those already in a borderline ethereal dimension outside of the world they knew. The grey clouds dissipated, the black sky cleared and gave way to the blue he was familiar with. It carried a tinge of the otherworldly, the ebb and flow he had gotten used to in the past minutes. Something about it resonated with him, beckoned to the subconscious.
And then he knew nothing more.
Plumes of smoke and midnight light curled out from Prompto's body, and the red-and-black butterfly emerged from him as if he were nothing more than its cocoon. It unfurled its wings and fled back south to the Aletheia, and no one that saw it go bothered to make a move against it; their attention was snared by the fact that Prompto had shown signs of life.
Huh, I didn't have to do anything, Noctis thought. "See? Told you he'd pull through," he said aloud instead, earning a look from Ignis that suggested that no one would believe that claim in a hundred years.
To Prompto's relief, he was definitely not dead this time. The ground had grass on it and everything, and there was a presence nearby that was warm in the way living things tended to be. His eyes fluttered open and he spotted the same bespectacled bystander from yesterday ( heh ) with the concern in his expression loosening its vise grip on his features and giving space to the calm and collected countenance he was usually known for.
Had Ignis not been so close, Prompto would've sat up as if he were springloaded. He instead kept his reaction down to a glimpse at his own hands. He didn't feel the rush of magic from the other dimension he had been in. The pulse of it was replaced by the more subtle and warm crackle of Noctis's magic.
He set that aside and looked at everyone else. "How long was I out?"
Noctis grinned, and stepped back to stand beside Gladio. "Long enough; you had Ignis worried sick!"
"What, really?" The blond looked at the brunet in a way they assumed was skeptical. "Never knew you cared."
Gladio scratched at his chin. "Pretty sure he was more concerned about it being his mistake that put you there. Not that he made one at all." Gladio and Ignis met each other's gazes, though the former's look was to dare the latter to object.
"Ohhhh… that explains it." Prompto checked one cheek, then the other, then traced his thumb over his lips in search of something. "Just to ask, nobody tried kissing me, right?"
Noctis raised a hand. "I considered it."
"You what?" Ignis held his glasses in place with a focused look in his eyes as if he could channel a laser beam right out of them if he thought on it hard enough. "Was that your plan the entire time?"
Noctis stared back with a blank look that skimmed the edges of cluelessness. "Oh, yeah, you know," he pointed to himself, "a Prince," he pointed to Prompto, "a sleeping blonde. Thought that would work."
"First off, that would work in fairytales. Second, you could at least wait until reuniting with Luna to try something so asinine!"
Prompto lifted his shoulders in a light shrug. "I dunno, Igs, I kinda always wondered what it'd be like to be rescued by a Prince." When he saw that Ignis looked liable to suffer a conniption from the ridiculousness if he thought on it all for too long, Prompto sat up and wrapped his arms around the retainer. "Aw, I'm just messin' with ya. Settle down a little. Can't have you dying on us from a blood pressure spike." ( He took advantage of the fact that the other two wouldn't be able to hear him, and whispered in Ignis's ear, 'I'm sorry'. )
Noct motioned with his hands as if to physically wave the notion away. "He's right, man. Losing him would be bad, losing you would be tragic and a half. I mean, who else would I be able to watch movies with?"
Gladio elbowed Noct in the ribs. "I'm right here."
"Pff. You? I've sat with you for a movie. It's great when you can recognize something is filmed on a set or with a stand-in location instead of the real spot, but you gotta stop commenting on it. It really takes me out of it."
"How'd you think I feel? Look, if someone wants to say a movie takes place in Laghamon, sure, go ahead, but they can't say that and just film everything in Saxham with the street names covered up. I've been to Saxham enough to know the place by the potholes in the road."
With a quiet laugh and a shake of the head, Noct turned to head to the Regalia. If they were gonna continue this conversation, it'd be in the car and on the way to someplace quiet to sleep. Gladio followed him; he looked intent on stressing the importance of realism over truthiness.
Prompto got up and dusted himself off, then watched the two go on ahead. They trusted him and Ignis to catch up soon, now that the danger was finally gone. He turned to his friend and flashed him a hesitant smile. "I mean it. I'm sorry."
Ignis averted his own gaze. "You're in no position to apologize, and you know it."
"What, and you are? What'd you do wrong? … Don't answer that."
He was right to say that; Ignis was ready to mention the ways he was at fault for Prompto having fallen unconscious to that strange butterfly-daemon.
"It doesn't matter anymore," came the brunet's hushed attempt at reassuring himself. Aloud he asked, "Are you alright? Do you feel anything at all from … from whatever that was?"
"I'm fine, Iggy. But if it'll help you feel better, whenever we make a stop somewhere, one of your check-ups might work, mm?" He took Ignis's hand in his and felt its warmth, mirrored its reassurance with a squeeze. "You've got to take it easy, man. All that worrying isn't good for you."
"You know I can't do that." He couldn't afford to be lax. Not here, not now, and not ever. This incident proved at least that much.
"In that case…" the hesitant smile from before brightened to one more sure of its place. "You oughta worry really, really hard. Give it your all on that one. Worry as hard as you can, until you can't anymore. Just, get it all out of your system!"
"Wh… wha…? Then, how will I get anything else done?"
Prompto didn't know just what was cuter; the genuine puzzlement on Ignis's face, or the fact that he had truly considered a scenario where he placed one-hundred-and-ten percent of his energy into dwelling on the negative, which had caused that questioning look in the first place.
"Don't worry about… well, do worry about that too. Hell, toss it into the little 'worry basket' we call your brain. Anything else that needs doing, let me handle it."
"You?"
"Oh, yeah, totally. I'll wear your glasses, put on a snazzy suit, write in your notebook, toss a bunch of fifty-gil words into my speech… it'll be a vacation, gives me a break from being me."
"No, no, don't do that, please… I like you being you." Rephrasing himself didn't enter Ignis's mind, not even the shadow of an edge of the thought of doing so had ghosted across. There was a certain feel to those words that he was comfortable with.
The smile from the blond was more comfort yet. "I like you being you, too." He gave a quick tilt of his head in the direction that their friends had gone. "How about we be ourselves on fast forward and not hold them up too long?"
"That's a sound idea." Ignis stepped back and gave a slight bow with a flourish. "After you."
"Why? So you can 'dwell on' something a little different?" He couldn't skip the opportunity to tease.
Ignis wasn't the type to skip that chance either. "Can't say it'd be to the extent that I 'get it out of my system'..."
"I'd ask how you'd get anything else done, but I think… we'll figure that out as we go along." Prompto was happy to relent, and strolled on to the Regalia ahead of Ignis.
Ignis watched him leave, but found his attention snared by something peculiar. The branches above their heads had bent, pulled by a 'wind' that couldn't be seen nor heard. It almost looked like … arms that strained towards something. Someone.
"Prompto…?"
"Mm? What's up?" Prompto turned around to look to his friend, and whatever spell it was broke in that instant. The branches shifted back to normal. No longer reaching for him as they had seconds ago.
"... Nothing. It's nothing."