Noctis didn't know why he'd expected his slumber to be restful. Perhaps it was just because there was so much that had happened to him that he almost couldn't believe that his nightmares would go on forever. Perhaps it was because of the semi-restful experience he'd had when he passed out earlier. But whatever had caused it, his instinct had been wrong. Instead he had returned to the world of darkness that seemed to haunt him whenever he slept. It looked a bit different to how it had before though.

For one thing, when he usually awoke in the darkness, it was the constant night-time that tipped him off that he was dreaming. This time it would be hard not to know. He was in Lestallum again, and the entire architecture of the city seemed to have changed. It was like a hurricane had swept through the market square, and almost every building on the street was in a state of disrepair—there were large cracks in the walls and in the stones paving the street. Instead of boarded-up windows, there were just fragments of glass lying on the ground, and as Noctis looked inside the buildings he could see that everything seemed to be in a state of decay.

And once again, as was constant in all of his dreams so far, there were no people. But what was so eerie about the broken down shell of Lestallum wasn't just that there were no people, it was that it was almost like there had never been people. Obviously the buildings were still there, and the furniture inside the houses, but any other sign of residence had completely vanished. There were no stalls set up in the marketplace, there was no food, rotted or otherwise, behind the counters in the stores, or any sign that the many businesses and houses there had been used in a long, long time. It was almost as though every person that once lived there had packed up and left without a trace.

But perhaps the most unnerving part of the dream was that the graves were still there, and as Noctis stumbled once more towards the main street, up to the power plant, he felt almost as though the world was laughing at him. 'Look at all of the people you couldn't save,' it seemed to say, and Noctis sighed as he made his way up through the gravestones, towards the memorial. He didn't know why he was so beset by guilt—he knew, logically, that it was Ardyn who'd killed all these people by spreading the Starscourge like a plague, but he felt like it was his fault somehow—for not saving them perhaps?

But just as he thought this, his hand brushed over one of the graves, and for a moment everything went white. When his vision returned it was suddenly, and all at once, and he didn't know where he was. But he did know that he was doing...something. Running forward, towards a figure in the distance. But he wasn't—or at least, he wasn't meaning to. It was like his mind had been trapped in a body that wasn't his, and was moving and acting against his will. As 'he' got closer and closer to the person, a middle-aged man in a raincoat, he noticed his body wasn't slowing down. It was going to bowl right into him. He tried desperately to get himself to stop running, but no matter how hard he tried to think about it, he found he couldn't control his body at all, and to his horror, he then began to feel the distinct sensation of the Armiger forming around him.

Surely he wasn't going to—but no, he could feel himself drawing a blade from the Armiger, all the while getting closer and closer to this man. He tried vainly to call out to him, to warn him somehow about what he was going to do, but it was no good, he was trapped, and he couldn't even close his eyes as it drove the sword deep into the man's sternum with a sickening crunch. For a moment the man's eyes widened with shock, before the life slowly faded out of them, and as it did, Noctis felt his mouth open, and the words:

"I'm sorry," came quietly out.

And it was unquestionably his voice. What the hell was going on?

Almost as soon as he wondered this, he was once again back in Lestallum, but he was off-balance now—he just killed someone! He'd felt himself do it, seen every detail as that man's life had slipped away—and Noctis had to concentrate very hard to prevent himself from vomiting at the memory of the blood welling up around the puncture wound. Why? Why had he done it? What was going on?

But he didn't have much time to think about it as he staggered backwards, and instinctively threw his hands out to catch himself, only to have them fall onto still more gravestones. And it was the same as before—he was trapped, trapped in a body he knew to be his, but with no way of controlling it. Forced to watch in anguish as it mercilessly slaughtered its way through more and more people as Noctis tried to get away from the gravestones as quickly as possible. His vision ran red with blood, and by the time he'd reached the clearing just in front of the memorial to Luna and the others, he was unable to stay upright, collapsing onto the floor, and resting his head against the huge stone monument.

For a moment he just tried to keep his breathing constant—he'd killed so many people, why? How? Was that the reason all the gravestones were there? He closed his eyes, trying vainly to block out his thoughts. All he wanted was some quiet—even the black fog would be preferable to this, he just needed something to block it out. But although the world turned to shadows when he closed his eyes, he almost immediately felt himself become disembodied, and quickly realised he was back in the dark space, where so many had died. But this time, the faces were familiar.

He'd already seen his dad, Cor and Clarus die at his hands—hadn't that been enough? But he was walking this time, not running, and for a moment he allowed himself a brief spark of hope. Luna was there, and as he approached she turned and smiled at him, and as she did, so did Gladio, and Prompto, and Ignis, and Iris. They were all there. He felt his own mouth curve up into a smile to match theirs. And then he felt tears running slowly down his cheeks.

"I'm so, so sorry," he felt himself say, as he got closer and closer.

"About what?" asked Gladio, frowning, and his voice was strangely distant, as though speaking underwater.

"Yeah, what's got you so down Noct?" asked Iris, and her voice was similarly muffled.

"I have to do this," said Noctis's body, and the tears were coming faster now, "to save all of you."

"What are you talking about buddy?" asked Prompto, whose frown of confusion quickly turned to an expression of alarm, as Noctis's hand raised itself in front of him, pointed towards his friends.

The Ring of the Lucii burned bright on his finger.

"It won't hurt, I promise," gasped Noctis, as he screamed inside his head for all of them to get away. "You're all going to be okay—you won't even notice anything's wrong."

As he said this, he could feel his body summoning every last drop of magical energy inside it, and channelling it straight into the Ring. He understood what he was about to do, and screamed. Why, why, why? He couldn't kill his friends! There had to be some way to stop himself—there had to. But slowly, agonisingly slowly, crystals began to form in his vision, and a red portal started to open up above their heads.

"Noctis! What are you doing?" cried Ignis.

"Someone stop him!" yelled Prompto, completely panicked as the portal got wider and wider, consuming the space above them and starting to pull at his friends' souls.

They were all trying to get away from the gaping hole in the sky above him now, but it was too late. Noctis watched, tears obscuring his vision, as his friends were pulled slowly backwards into the portal, powerless to do anything against vacuum pulling them inwards. Gradually—more gradually than it had ever taken before, the colour began to fade out of their forms, leaving them shining white figures as, bit by bit, their souls were sucked away.

"I love you," he said, barely able to speak through his sobs. "I love all of you. And I'm going to save you. I promise."

But there was nothing left for him to save. He was alone in the darkness.

And then he woke up.