As soon as the doors were shut and the key in the ignition, Regis had his phone from his pocket and Crea's number dialed. He sat forward in his seat, elbows on his knees, and waited. It seemed a lifetime before she answered.

"Regis! Thank the Gods—"

"Pray, do not," Regis said. If not for them, he would never have been in this mess. "Is Reina alright?"

"Why—yes, why wouldn't she be?"

Regis permitted himself an ounce of relief, for all he had clung to tension and fear during their climb from the crater.

"Ardyn has vanished with a foreboding threat." Or else it had been not quite a threat, which made it all the more worrisome.

"I see. And you think he'll come after her?"

"I don't know. But keep her in your sights and call me immediately should anything occur."

"I will."

"Warn her, as well. Let her know he may well try to pull her back into Dreams with him."

Would she go willingly if Ardyn asked? Regis had no notion. These days he seemed utterly unable to predict her behavior.

"Alright."

"And tell her—beg her, for me—not to do anything rash," Regis said, aware of the desperate note that crept into his voice. "That is all for now. We make our way back to Insomnia. I shall see you soon."

The return journey to Insomnia was silent and tense. Gentiana's absence had left them with one fewer passenger, and so Sylva had been laid across the rear seat of the Regalia. Weskham drove, while Regis sat sideways in the passenger side seat and stared back at her, as if keeping his eyes on her would somehow keep her alive. The others followed in the second car.

Insomnia was too far a drive. Even if the roads had been in proper working order, it would have taken two hours to reach the Crown City from the Disc. And if they did arrive with Sylva still miraculously alive, what then? There was no treatment for her in his city. She was the healer, gods damn it.

And yet, he wore the Ring of the Lucii, did he not? There had been kings before him blessed with healing hands. The soul of the Oracle King himself resided in the ring on Regis' hand. The power of kings might sustain her, if not cure her. But it did not come so cheaply as the power he had once called his own—to channel the souls of the Lucii could scorch a king and turn him to ash from the inside out. But it would have to be relied upon, nevertheless. He had none of his own.

Once more he reached for the souls of the Lucii, focusing in and down until he seemed almost to drop out of his body and into the In Between. Somehow it had become almost second nature to reach this world between worlds, when once it had been a place he sought only in dreams.

The kings came willingly to his call. But it was not a circle of faceless statues that surrounded him, leering down this time. They appeared as kings, not symbols, taking their lead from Somnus' choice to reside in his body of once upon a time.

And so for the first time he found himself standing in a crowd of a hundred kings—and some few queens—surrounded by faces he scarcely recognized, though many of them held his eyes or his nose or his chin. For a moment he was struck speechless by it. Then he recalled his purpose here.

"I need your aid," he said, "To heal one who has saved us all."

For without the return of the Infernian, would the Glacian ever have joined them? Would the Archaean ever have calmed?

He shared his memories with them, pouring out every instant of recollection from the last few hours of his life—and more. Everything he knew of Sylva.

"Only the Oracle and the light of the crystal, summoned by the True King, can cure the Starscourge." The king who stepped from the crowd was taller than his peers, and lithe. He wore his long hair loose about his shoulders, but not untidily so. A dual-sided crown, half of wings, half of horns sat upon his head.

"But you bear the power of the Oracle, Caliean," Somnus said. "And therefore, so too does he."

"I do." King Caliean, the Oracle, turned his unwavering gaze on Somnus for but a moment before his eyes returned to Regis. It was a Caelum stare like none he had ever been forced to contend with. "But you must know, young king, that the power channeled from beyond the grave does not come freely. Not even for those of royal blood. It will scorch you. And scar you. It might even kill you, if you drink too deeply."

With each word he stepped nearer to Regis and the crowd of kings seemed to back away, leaving them alone in the center. Not once did Caliean blink. The bodies of the In Between had precisely the limitations that were imagined for them and he had ceased to be human so long ago that even the reflex to blink his eyes had vanished in time.

"But can it cure her?" Regis asked.

"To ask what the ring can do is meaningless without first stating how much you are willing to pay."

"If I said everything?" Regis asked.

"Then your answer would be everything," Caliean said. A placid smile twisted his lips. "But you are not willing to give everything."

"No." He could not. Whatever he did or did not owe to Sylva, he could not give everything to buy back her life. If he sacrificed himself for her, everything she had fought for would have been pointless. Without him, five of the Six would be gone, but the last would reign on. Perhaps he would scorch the life from earth in his cleanse of the scourge, as he had threatened.

No, Regis could not die for her.

"To cure her would consume your life," Caliean said. "And so it cannot cure her. But it might, perhaps, sustain her until another can lay hands on her."

"There are no others. She is the only healer in Lucis," Regis said.

"Is she?" Caliean's smile quirked again. "Sixteen is not so young. Lunafreya is all but prepared to take up her mother's mantle."

Lunafreya. Of course. How had he forgotten? She was so quiet and mild mannered about the Citadel, hardly ever crossing his path. Somehow he still thought of her as the little girl whom Noctis had been enamored with. But she was hardly a girl anymore.

"And what will it cost to sustain her?" Regis asked.

For what remained of the drive, Regis was far from cognizant. By simple logic, he knew hours must have passed from the time when he clambered into the back seat of the car to cram himself onto the floor behind his seat and the moment when the Regalia doors opened and hands grasped his shoulders. But while he channeled the magic of the Oracle King, time twisted and lost all meaning.

"Regis?" The hands on his shoulders were Clarus'. "How are you feeling?"

His skin had gone as numb and cold as Sylva's. He blinked and the world came into sharper focus: though Sylva looked no less near to death, her chest now rose and fell with comforting consistency. Regis' hand, still resting upon her shoulder, was criss-crossed with glowing blue lines, as if his skin itself had cracked and the magic inside showed through. He little liked to think what his face must have looked like. Yet even as he watched, the light faded and dimmed and his skin was whole once more—though faint white lines traced the places where magic had once shone through.

"Regis?"

Clarus had asked him a question, hadn't he? Regis couldn't find enough working pieces of his brain to recall what it was, much less think of an answer to it. He seized the back of the passenger side seat and hauled himself to his feet. Or he tried to. In reality it took more than a little help from Clarus to see him vertical and out of the car. Even then he swayed and leaned heavily upon his Shield's shoulder.

"Have her taken back to her rooms," Regis managed, "And summon Lunafreya."

If Caliean was correct, Luna was the only hope now for her mother. For Regis had already given all he was willing and able to give.

"She's here." Cor was at his other side, looking up toward the Citadel steps.

Regis followed his gaze to the top of the stairs, where both Noctis and Lunafreya had appeared. They paused for but a moment before Luna came racing down the steps, taking them two at a time. Noctis hurried after.

Regis moved to take a step back and realized he was very much at Clarus' mercy here. It would take more than one shoulder for him to reach the upper levels. He motioned to Cor and leaned on both of them, trusting them to bear him away from the open Regalia door and allow Lunafreya to reach her mother.

"Mother!" Luna dropped to her knees outside the Regalia and immediately laid hands on Sylva. "What happened to her?"

When Regis failed to put words together quickly enough, Clarus responded in his stead.

"Your mother has healed an Astral of the Starscourge. I fear I understand little more than that, but in so doing, she was more than once frozen by the Glacian," he said.

"Can you heal her?" Regis asked. "I have done all I can for her. It is beyond my power to save her."

Lunafreya looked up at him for the first time since her arrival. Her eyes flicked over his unkempt appearance. He was doubtless a sorry mess, but she smiled nevertheless.

"But you have, King Regis," she said. "You have returned her alive. Yes, I can heal her, though it will require time."

She rose to her feet and shook out her skirt. Her eyes swept the assembled few and landed on Weskham. "Master Armaugh, if you could assist me in gathering some able bodied people—we will need to make a stretcher for her."

"Of course, Lady Lunafreya." Weskham bowed his head and, with one regretful glance toward Regis, he turned away to see to her instructions. And with little more ceremony than that, Lunafreya took charge of the situation, leaving Regis to hobble up the stairs between Clarus and Cor.

They paused when they reached Noctis at the bottom of the steps.

"Dad." He stared up at the three of them, wide-eyed and looking much younger than twelve. "Are you alright?"

Regis winced. He did his best not to appear battered and beaten before his people—let alone his children—but there was no helping this.

"I will survive, my son." And that was the best he could say for the moment. "Your sister?"

"She's fine," Noctis said, in a why-wouldn't-she-be tone. "Upstairs, last time I saw her."

Regis exhaled and deflated a few more inches between Clarus and Cor. He nodded, eyes shut. "Then upstairs we will go."