23 August, 757:
The whole city seemed to move. It writhed like a living thing, crowded from edge to edge with daemons.
No more twinkling lights lit the stone buildings. No more lively music played outside cafes. No more people walked the streets. No more gondolas drifted down the canals. The only thing moving in the city were daemons and the daemons were everywhere.
"Where to, Your Majesty?" Cid asked.
Reina bristled at the title, but kept her mouth shut. If they came out of this alive, then she could be picky about what she was called. For now she had more important worries.
"As close to the cathedral as you can get us." Reina stood at Cid's shoulder, looking out over the city. It smelled as if something had been on fire recently, but she didn't see any flames.
"The cathedral? That's on top of a damn waterfall." Cid glared at her.
"That's where the survivors are."
If they were still alive.
"This is a suicide mission, Your Majesty." Libertus appeared behind her.
It was, but he didn't get to object to suicide.
"Libertus, by rights your lives are already forfeit. The act of dying is merely a formality," Reina said.
If they weren't willing to risk their lives then she had no use for them. They could go back in the basement or they could die, now. It made no difference to her. At least if they fought the daemons they had some chance of survival—for a time.
Libertus made no further comments; he slunk back to join the others once more.
On the other side of the ferry, Gladio, Prompto, and Ignis sat with Iris. Ignis held his cane point down with hands folded over the top; he looked almost serene. Prompto fidgeted, but he always did that. Gladio's eyes kept darting toward Iris as he shifted in his seat.
Iris was sitting, motionless, and staring at her hands.
"Iris." Reina motioned to her.
Iris looked up, rising at the summons. They drifted far enough away that they could talk without interruption.
"I won't lie to you and tell you this will turn out well," Reina said. "This isn't your fight and you're not obligated to come with us."
Iris' eyes widened, then she shook her head vehemently. "It is my fight. The Amicitias have always stood by the Caelums when there's trouble. It's not going to change with me."
But of course. Just another daughter looking after her father from her brother's shadow. Why had Reina thought any different?
"You're right," Reina said. "We're practically sisters. Let's show these boys what we can do, shall we?"
Iris gaped at the word 'sisters'—but only for a moment before she smiled. It had been a long time since she had seen Iris smile for real. Back in another life.
"This is it, Your Majesty," Cid called over his shoulder. "As close as we're gonna get."
Above them loomed the cathedral, stone towers all capped in gold domes. It was difficult to appreciate the delicate architecture when it was crawling with daemons.
"How do we get up there?" Iris asked. She had to shout to be heard over the roar of the waterfalls.
"The king's magic," Reina said.
It was a sight like Iris had never expected to see in her life; three dozen Kingsglaives streaked across the sky in blue lines, just like Noct used to do. Iris stood on the ferry deck, entranced as she watched them.
Reina took the lead with Ignis at her side—she hadn't ever been able to warp, before, but she did it now. Prompto and Gladio followed, each catching a ride with a Glaive. Iris almost forgot she was supposed to go with them—so accustomed was she to being left behind—until one of the Kingsglaives approached her.
"You ready to go, kid?"
She had met him before, in Insomnia. What was his name? Libertus? He hadn't seemed like such a bad guy, back then, but Reina said all of them were traitors.
"I guess so," Iris said.
I'll make you proud, Dad. You'll see.
He held out his hand and she took it. A moment later she wished she hadn't.
She had never felt anything so physically uncomfortable. The world was spinning, as if she had just been turning circles and stopped—only it was turning much faster, in every direction all at once, and Iris was tumbling about, heels over head. Until she wasn't.
The world lurched back into existence. Her stomach rolled. They had been standing on the deck of the ferry a second ago and now they weren't. She couldn't say where they were, though, because all she could see was stone flagons as she lost her breakfast all over them.
"Yeah." Libertus' voice floated through the haze. "That happens."
She spat on the pavement, trying to clear her mouth of the taste of bile. Her body briefly considered turning inside out, but didn't have the chance to try. A hand grabbed her arm and jerked her to one side.
"Look sharp, kid!"
Iris forced the world back into focus in time to watch Libertus cut down a daemon with a short, curved axe. More advanced to fill the hole; they were standing on a balcony outside the cathedral and every wall in the vicinity was crawling with daemons.
"You got a weapon?" Libertus threw lightning and it struck behind her.
"Y-yeah!"
"Now would be a good time to try it out."
"Right."
Just like in training. And outside Lestallum on guard duty. She could do this.
Iris drew her sword and gripped with both hands. She swung about, putting Libertus to her back and catching a daemon across the middle as it advanced. It sublimated into a cloud of black smoke, giving Iris just enough time to resettle her stance before the next took its place.
The blade did most of the work. She threw her weight behind it and it cut through daemon after daemon.
I could do this all day.
Or at least until her arms gave out.
"You're not half bad, kid!" Libertus was watching her, having found a lull in the flow of daemons.
Iris ran another through, feeling her blade crunch through bone; it was the last one—for the moment. She stood with her blade down, catching her breath, and glanced over at him.
"We've got to find Rei," Iris said.
"Yup." Libertus tucked his axe into his belt and pointed to the pair of broken doors that led into the cathedral from the balcony. "Everyone's headed inside—we'll meet up in there."
"Right."
More daemons and the rest of the Kingsglaives were waiting for them inside. Iris caught glimpses of blue light through doorways, heard the crack of thunder and the clash of blades. She didn't have time to appreciate how effective they were—she was too focused on keeping her own head attached and not hitting Libertus.
Iris cut down another daemon and, through the black smoke, she caught sight of a shock of blond hair. Prompto was ahead. Wherever Prompto was, probably Gladdy was, and Gladio went wherever Reina was.
She shifted course. Daemons blocked her path, but they blocked every path. She could have swung her sword without aim and still hit them. She swung in a wide arc and cut off a head and half a wing. The daemons pressed in, but she pushed forward anyway, shoving with her shoulder and wedging herself into a better position. From there, she drove her blade up and out, catching another daemon through the middle before it's swiping talons could land.
The path ahead cleared just enough for Iris to reach the doorway and the hall beyond. It was a wide room, and long, with great arching ceilings. It reminded her a little of the Citadel, back home—except the tilework was colorful and the ceiling was painted.
Down the middle of the hall, she caught sight of Reina. She was back to back with Ignis; they moved like they were one person. Iris had thought it was impressive to watch Reina training with Cor but it was nothing to how she fought with Ignis. They kept in contact, most times. Either they had their backs pressed together, or their shoulders, or off hands clasped. Sometimes they split apart, but they always returned—like they were connected by elastic.
"Iris! Heads up!" Gladio swung his sword.
Iris ducked. She hadn't even noticed him approaching—let alone the daemons behind her. He cut them down, letting the weight of his sword do the work. Iris straightened, cursing herself. How was she supposed to be strong like Gladio if she was forever getting distracted? Yes, Reina and Ignis working together was beautiful and mesmerizing, but she couldn't afford to watch.
"Thanks, Gladdy!" She lifted her sword and refocused. He was going to be mad at her, but she would handle that later. For now the only response he gave was a grunt.
Together, they reached Reina's side, forming a circle with the others to keep daemons from their backs.
"Where is everyone?" Iris asked. Wasn't this supposed to be a rescue mission?
"They're probably all dead." It was one of the Kingsglaive who spoke—she didn't know his name, but he had a sharp face and a voice that matched.
In spite of the glares that some others shot him, no one else spoke. Iris swallowed hard and resettled her grip on her sword. Had they really just walked into the suicide trap for nothing?
The other Kingsglaives worked across the hall toward them. Blue light flashed here and there as they warped, keeping the area as clear as it could be.
"There's an inner chamber farther up," Reina said at length. "If any yet survive, they will be inside."
"Then let us make haste," Ignis said.
The cathedral was worse than Reina had imagined. She had expected it to be the epicenter—if the survivors were holed up inside, then the daemons may well have been drawn to them—but she hadn't expected to find the daemons so… organized. Was it her imagination, or were they tearing the building apart methodically?
They waded through waves of daemons. The Glaives were at her back and Ignis was at her side—feeling rather than seeing as he became a part of her. Even clustered as they were, they didn't reach the inner chamber without casualty.
Reina didn't count them, but she heard the screams. One was dragged away into the writhing shadows. Another clutched his stomach as blood poured between his fingers and from his mouth—too quick for healing magic.
They deserve to die, she told herself, but she couldn't get the screams from her mind, couldn't wipe away that wide-eyed look before his gaze went dark.
They pushed on, regardless, leaving the fallen where they lay. This was what her father had meant; she had made a decision and her people would die because of it. That was inevitable.
Eventually they came to a door that was still solid—though not by much. Daemons crowded around the outside, poking claws in holes and underneath, prying at the stone, swarming for any opening.
"Glaives—with me! Cut them down!" Reina swept her naginata in a figure-eight, cutting through beast and bone.
Beside her, Ignis brushed her shoulder as he lunged forward. Blue light arced around them. Lightning flashed, thunder cracked, fire blazed, and ice crashed. The Glaives moved in blue blurs: half human, half hologram. Shields sprang up, then dissolved in time to admit a blade.
"Reina…"
A voice whispered in her ear, so close she could feel breath on her skin. She twisted around, threat momentarily forgotten.
"Father?"
"Use the magic, my dearest." His voice was at her ear no matter where she turned.
The Ring of the Lucii was still on her hand. She hadn't been using his magic as much as she could have—should have. It still felt unfamiliar to her. But she couldn't have ignored her father's voice if she wanted to.
"Reina!" Ignis called out to her; they had separated when she spun about, looking for her father. Now a dozen daemons stood between them.
She clenched her jaw. No time like the present. Lightning arced from her outstretched hand, jumping from one daemon to the next. It sent them flying, left them black and charred. What remained of the first row she cut down with a sweep of her naginata.
She blazed fire and it ate them from their clawed feet up. The smell of cooked, rancid meat filled her nose, and the heat turned her skin red. She pushed them aside, calling the fire back and advancing. Ignis was just ahead of her, a few more steps—
A tall daemon bore down on her from above, spindly legs like stilts as it wobbled toward her. She took a step back, but had little room to maneuver.
Use the magic.
She thrust out her hand again, calling ice and dumping as much power as she could muster behind the spell. Her skin burned. The daemon froze solid.
"Ignis?"
They stood in a ring of sublimating daemons. Ignis held one dagger, but stood half doubled over, breathing heavily.
"No worse for the wear, Your Highness," Ignis said, though the pain in his voice contradicted his words.
"Reina! Can't hold this door forever!" Gladio's voice made her turn.
The Glaives held a perimeter around the door, with Gladio and Prompto standing just outside.
She glanced back at Ignis, reaching out to touch his shoulder. His sleeve was dark—his blood?—and red dripped down one side of his face.
"Do not concern yourself—we must not linger. Let us do what we came to do," he said, brushing aside her concern.
He was right, much as she hated to admit it. She couldn't tend to him in the middle of this—not with so much at stake. So she pushed on.
The doors were solid stone—it was little wonder they had held so long—and Reina pounded on the outside. "If anyone yet lives, open this door!"
A pause, then the sound of something shifting on the other side. Slowly, a gap appeared between the doors. A man's face peered out at them, dirty and streaked with blood.
"Princess Reina?"
"The same," Reina said.
The door opened further. "Thank the Gods! We hardly dared hope—!"
"We need to move quickly. You have boats in the docks below? Enough to carry your people?"
The commander nodded.
"Then let's move. Keep them clustered—Glaives! Form a passage!—any guard you have remaining moves on the outside."
They were running a gauntlet with hundreds of civilians. People were going to die. She just hoped that enough survived to make the sacrifice worth it.