"Now who is the betrayed?"
"...They didn't betray me."
"You're dying. By the hands of your so-called friends."
"They did what was right. Not what was easy."
"...It does not change the fact you are dying, mortal. You may be an Infernian, but you cling to your humanity. It will kill you."
"..."
"You think I will save you?"
"Out of necessity, yes."
"...Perhaps."
Noct near-collapsed to his knees next to Ignis' fallen form, scooping the man into his arms and banishing the greatsword from existence with his powers.
"No, no no no, come on Iggy...we just figured this out, you don't get to bow out now." Noct managed to ramble out, trying to ignore the gaping wound tearing in his friend's chest, his paling skin. He didn't need to ask; Prompto was at his side, rummaging through their supplies for potions and bandages, plumes of the Phoenix that they had been lucky enough to forage in their travels. The blond's face was set and stern, but Noct could see the tears prickling in his eyes. Hell, Gladio was having a hard time keeping the tears from his own usually steadfast expression. He hovered close by, unsure if he was welcome to help.
"Noct, I—"
"Not now. We might only have a few seconds to save him, and I'm not wasting it arguing."
His words came out harsh and laced with anger, although the prince knew Gladiolus had only done what he had to. He had saved the king from burning to death at the hands of the Ifrit. He couldn't have known what Noct himself had learned only second prior.
Ignis could form his own concordat. If they made it through this, could he form his own covenant as well? Did he unknowingly hold the blessing of the Infernian over Ifrit now?
None of that truly mattered. Right now, he was not the Infernian, he was not a blessing-holder. He was Ignis, and he was his friend.
And he was dying.
"And if I let you die?"
"Then Ifrit will have been betrayed by a mere human and that human will have lived to tell the tale."
"...It seems to me if I help you, you would only continue to work against me, mortal."
"I could agree to aid in your revenge against Ardyn."
"And of mankind?"
Ignis opened his eyes again, to find himself standing before Ifrit within his mindscape. The god was, once more, shackled and chained by his covenant. But so too was Ignis, as he soon noted the chains binding his ankles to the ground. Ifrit noted them warily from where he was knelt, arms bound, head bowed, with a slight grin. Ignis' stoic expression remained despite his entanglement.
"You do not seem to be a creature without reason, Ifrit. I understand your desire for revenge on Ardyn. One must assume you have good reason to want revenge on mankind. The scholars would tell us it was simply born of your anger that mankind no longer prayed to the gods. That we could help ourselves, better ourselves, with our own work rather than begging for the gods' powers to aid us."
Ifrit snarled, though Ignis felt it was more from insult than accuracy.
"History...that's the tale penned by the victors, isn't it? I am not an avid reader of those stories, mortal..."
Ignis sat himself down, cross his legs and regarding the god coolly.
"So tell me. As it is, I am likely to bleed to death anyway. And if I do, you'll finally end as well, and a third reincarnation will be born without your spirit lingering within them. A brand new Infernian. I wonder who they will become..."
Ifrit growled again, but Ignis knew he had nothing to fear of it. His words were true – right now, the man was in the grasp of death. Ifrit knew this well enough. If he wished to continue his revenge on mankind, he would need to cooperate and keep Ignis alive to-
"...The gods are not immortal. You know this already. We live for eons, time will never take us. But wounds. Battles. Blades. Yes...they can end us."
Well. He hadn't expected the god to open up, despite his ushering for him to do so. Ignis settled back a little.
"As Shiva was."
"As Shiva was..."
Ignis narrowed his eyes, sensing something in Ifrit's words that he had not yet heard from the wrathful god; sadness. He didn't ask about it, but noted it away in his mind. Why would Ifrit regard the fall of Shiva as a sadness unto him? He had, after all, betrayed the Six and Solheim in the Ancient Era.
"And the Oracle?"
Ifrit looked up then, eyes narrowing in distaste. The creature that the gods fawned over, a messenger for the mortals. An idol cast in fool's gold...
"...The Oracle is the voice of the humans, gifted to communicate with the Six and to heal the darkness. Her connection to the gods is unique...and her calling to help the King means that yes; she harbours the ability to reincarnate us, should she need to. Bahamut deemed it a necessary evil, to bequeath such a power to the Oracle. I suppose I am to blame for that. We are able to choose our reincarnations, to an extent. But we do not live on within them."
"You did."
"I was able to remove my spirit from my physical form before it was torn asunder. I chose you as my reincarnation, but also my vessel. The Second Glacian died as her spirit was still within her body. She did not have time to remove her soul to another vessel, but she managed to choose the Messenger Gentiana as her next reincarnation before she passed..."
"Yes...I have been meaning to ask. Why did you pick me? Gentiana I can understand as a useful choice, but a human for the human-hater seemed a little odd."
The god let his head hang then, no longer looking at Ignis. It was a moment before he replied.
"A natural affinity for fire. A strangely-tuned gift for wielding magic despite not being of royal blood. And a human's mind is usually weak. I meant to break that mind of yours and destroy the True King from within."
To the god's surprise, Ignis seemed to nod in agreement.
"Logical. I have my father to thank for my affinity to magicks, though as you rightly point out, I am...was...unable to harness elements to craft with elemancy myself. That still remains an exclusive power of the gods and royals. Something of a failure in my father's experiments, I assure you."
"What irony then, that you can now conjure flames at will. Your sire must be so proud."
Ignis ignored the path Ifrit seemed to be deflecting their conversation down to, and drew his knees up to his chest. It was getting cold, and no doubt he was running out of time.
"The gods are not immortal, you said. Does that mean you cannot prevent my passing?"
"I can share my strength to my vessel. Should your friends have a primitive understanding of healing, they could save you."
"And yet, you're debating letting me die now. Has Ifrit's desire for revenge finally burned away?"
The god roared, revealing teeth sharpened to points, eyes flaring to a blazing crimson. Clearly, no such thing had occurred, Ignis mused to himself.
"Would that I was not bound to the concordat. But now that I am betrayed and bound to an immortal, I cannot simply outwait him and see the bonds broken upon his death. I am trapped to his will, and with it, my revenge burns to ashes. On him, and upon your world! In the end, Ifrit would take only one man to the afterlife. Enjoy the honour, oh Icarus..."
Immortal...Ardyn? Speaking with the god seemed to be raising more questions than answers. But he was chasing borrowed time, and had to keep himself focused. As much as he would like to ask more about Ardyn, the here-and-now required Ifrit's cooperation, something that seemed to be swindling to short supply.
"Then you have nothing to lose. Help me, Ifrit. If I survive, we may yet see a chance to break you free of Ardyn. You have my word."
"The word of a man, what is that worth! The very currency that bound me as I am! And what of my true revenge? You would pay the world to save yourself?"
"...Not myself..."
It felt like hours had passed.
They had managed to move Ignis back into the tent, cleaned and stitched the gaping wound haphazardly ("I-I think the wound is closing? Maybe? I-I dunno, it looks..." Prompto had stammered, wishful thinking or the hand of Ifrit, Noct wasn't willing to bet on it in any case). Potions and plumes of the Phoenix had been used in a flurry, and were perhaps the only reason Ignis' chest rose and fell, a rattling breath both a comfort and fear to the prince.
The bandages seemed to have stopped bleeding through now, Noct thought numbly as he tied yet another fresh set around the wound. Maybe...just maybe...
"Noct..."
The dark haired man raised his head to look toward the door of the tent. Gladio stooped in, and came to kneel next to Ignis. "...look, I—"
"You were fighting Ifrit. I get it."
He cut Gladio's apology off shortly, perhaps cruelly. But it wasn't a conversation Noct felt he could have right now. Logically, he understood it. Emotionally...he was having a harder time. He didn't feel he could forgive Gladio, as he was at odds with logic and passion as to whether or not there was something there that needed apologising for.
Instead, he opted to try and think like a king. It wasn't something that came naturally to him, Noct noted sullenly.
"Ifrit could have killed me, and you couldn't bank on Ignis getting it together at the last second."
Gladio seemed taken aback by the prince's words. Or, moreover, his composure.
"...Doesn't...make it any less painful." Gladio replied gruffly, looking down at Ignis. "But I guess if anyone is gonna need to forgive me, it's him."
The god and the mortal sat in silence as the world around them grew colder and colder.
"...I too...wished to pay the world for the one I loved as well."
Ignis' eyes flicked up when Ifrit finally replied. Perhaps he could sense the end as well, and perhaps those that lived longer feared death more than humans. Perhaps gods spilled their inner fears and feelings at death's command just as humans did. It was a strange sight to be sure.
"Your revenge on mankind...was in response to something?" Ignis pried.
Ifrit nodded, a motion barely there, scarcely enough to rattle the rings that adorned his horns. He did not look at Ignis, but he could still see the Infernian fighting bitterly to keep anger sparked within his visage.
"Your kind used to worship us. We offered gifts in return. Your happiness was synonymous with our work. You were dependent on the gods for guidance and light.
"But over time, your kind became jealous of the gods you praised. Humans wished to ascend, dreamed of heavens and being granted access. Embellished themselves titles as if to mark themselves as particular to the gods compared to other people. Holy men and priests...monks and nuns...words to divide themselves as being special in the eyes of the gods.
"Soon, it was no longer enough merely to do this. Some humans sought to elevate themselves to the gods, some even sought to prove they were stronger than deities they branded as lazy and cruel. In years passed, Shiva was summoned by your kind..."
Ignis tilted his head to the side, curious by the Infernian's words.
"The battle against the Empire in Tenebrae? Not so long ago, in truth..."
Ifrit huffed a laugh, dry and bitter.
"The Second Shiva was woken by the Oracle to defend against the Empire that day, that is true. But I speak of many eons before that, before the Crystal, before the Starscourge itself. Shiva always had an affinity to humans, a fondness for their plight. So when they began to worship us again so suddenly, she did not feel suspicion or anger. She felt pity and sympathy, and went down unto the world to try and repair the bonds between human and god."
The god's words began to spark with fire then, the air around them trembling with heat as his speech became riddled with a barely-contained wrath.
"A trap! Your kind lead the only god who truly looked upon you with any kindness in those years and trapped her! Dragged her from the heavens and tore her apart in some mad desire to gain the power of the gods! She perished in their hands, and worse! Her bones were used as trinkets, her teeth, her jewels, her hair, everything was scavenged as holy relics, promises of power and godliness! When in truth, they were nothing but the scraps of a corpse!"
Ignis felt his heart twist in some echo of guilt and cold shock at the god's words. Gentiana was the third incarnation of Shiva? And, it seemed, the first Shiva had died by the hands of humans in much the same way as the second. It was enough to wonder why the Glacian still maintained her fondness for mankind then, given her history of betrayal.
Still, something burned stark in his mind, framed by the veiled tear that deceived Ifrit's eyes.
"You loved her."
It was not stated as a question, nor did it receive an answer from the burning Infernian and his wrath. Ifrit locked eyes with the mortal, fury radiating from him in waves.
"Your kind wanted the power of gods, so I gave it unto you! A plague of strength, the Starscourge, that would warp a man into a daemon. Strength you could have in abundance, and you would pay with your hearts! Daemons seemed fitting for your kind, lacking the capacity to feel or know oneself. But you would have the power you craved! And where I gifted what you asked for, Bahamut gifted your kind the Crystal, the treasure long-held by the gods, a light in the darkness to replace the light you so readily snuffed out. I would see it snuffed out once more!"
"If I die, you die in the knowledge the Crystal lives on. Your revenge incomplete, and likely, the Starscourge cleansed. The next Infernian may well bequeath his blessing onto Noct in your absence."
Ifrit's suspicious was not hidden when he spoke again:
"If I help you survive this, why would you betray your friends and aid in my revenge?"
"I am not agreeing to that. But then, when did Ifrit require the help of a human? I live, you live. May the best man win, didn't we agree?"
The sun was setting low across the sky, casting an orange glow across the walls of the tent. Gladio and Prompto were outside attempting to scrape something together to eat, though Noct had insisted he wasn't hungry. If anything, he was just tired. He wasn't sure quite when he had started to drift off into a light doze, his head resting on Ignis' chest to be aware of his breathing as he slept.
He was spurred awake only when Ignis' breath hitched, and a croaked voice sounded near him, a far cry from the usual collected tones that came from the cook's mouth.
"...Your Highness...please do still shower in my absences...you smell like an unwashed grillpan..."