Thick fog blanketed Duscae, so thick Noctis could only see a few meters ahead of him, the dark trunks of the trees fading into grey nothingness just ahead. The cold stung his cheeks, and he shivered as he stumbled through the trees, his foot sometimes catching on a root—almost tipping him over, but not quite. He pulled his hood tighter over his head in a vain attempt to stay warm. He needed to keep moving forward.
There was something waiting for him on the other side of the trees, he knew it.
The wind whispered through the branches, and the leaves rustling overhead sounded almost like a voice, pulling him forward, guiding him through the forest. He could hear it just ahead of him, moving back into the fog. He kept walking.
He was vaguely aware he ought to be tired, but he was not. The cold didn't seem to matter, nor the ache in his legs as he kept pushing forward through the trees, his breath creating small clouds in the air as the temperate dropped even further. Something soft and wet fell against his face. Blinking, he stared up at the sky. Yes, he'd been right—small white flakes were floating down towards him. It was snowing.
She was here.
"Noctis..."
He whirled around. A voice—but there was no one there. Had he imagined it?
"Noctis..."
It was so quiet amid the rustling and the muffling effect of the falling snow that he barely heard it, but he was sure that was someone calling for him, through the fog.
"Follow..."
He didn't know why, but he did. He felt he trusted the voice—he knew it somehow, recognised it from somewhere. The snow was falling faster now, freezing his face as the flakes blew into his face.
"Hurry."
He began to run. The black trunks passed by in a blur, and Noctis kept running, the ground shifting and falling away below him.
"Hurry!"
He was going as fast as he could, almost flying as the world bent and warped around him. He was sure the snow was trying to choke him, stop him, drown out the voice urging him on, but he wouldn't let it. He was stronger than this. He needed to follow the voice, to find her. He knew her...
Then, all at once he was free of the trees, the world expanding out into a vast blank canvas of grey fog. Then his foot caught on something, and he was flying forward so fast he barely knew where he was. His head didn't hit the ground—was he flying? Falling? Where—sharp pain through his feet as they hit the ground, hard, throwing him off-balance, tipping him forward—he landed sharply on his arms—he was on a slope now, he could feel it. Down and down he went, gravity pulling him faster and faster as he rolled down the hill, snow sticking to his clothes, beginning to soak through to his skin.
Finally, it all came to a stop.
For a moment he simply lay on the floor, gasping at the pain in his hands and knees, the shocking cold of the snow, the sheer misery of it all. He was incredibly dizzy.
"Please...get up..."
The voice was still there, and even through the pain he knew he had to follow it. It warmed something inside him, and in seconds he was back on his feet, looking around for where it had come from. The fog was beginning to dissipate, and he could see he was in a field, though jagged rocks were rising through the earth on all sides, shattering the flat plain with their fierce edges.
"Almost there..." the voice whispered. "Follow me..."
It was coming from his right, and as he turned he saw a great ridge of rock, rising into the air.
"You must climb..." it said.
He wasn't sure he was in any state for climbing, but he was equally sure he must do it. He couldn't afford to stand around here in the cold—besides, there was something waiting for him beyond. Something he had to see.
He began to walk towards the ridge, each step a little harder as the snow beat down relentlessly, forcing him to drag his feet when he wanted nothing more than to run. It was so cold... But he could see the ridge ahead of him. His destination. He must reach it. Failure was not an option here.
Hissing filled the air—whether from the wind or something else he didn't know, but he ignored it, forcing himself to keep going, step by slow, aching step.
He was at the bottom now, staring up at the sheer stone wall. Climb? How could he climb this? The wall was slick, unclimbable.
"I know you can succeed," said the voice. Yes, he definitely recognised it. It was as if from something distant, something like a dream. "You must keep trying, Noctis."
It was right. He couldn't stop here.
He placed one shaking, gloved hand against the wall. He curled his fingers and...wait. There was a ledge here? Yes, almost the perfect size for his hand, a dent in the rock. He reached out his other hand, a little higher, feeling around for another—yes, there it was! Maybe he really could do this...
Reaching for all the strength he still had within him, he pushed himself upwards with his arms, ignoring the way pain went streaking down his sides at the movement. His foot caught on another ledge—he was safe on the wall. He could do this. He reached for another handhold—yes, again. He kept climbing, even as his body screeched under the pressure, even as the snow got so thick he could barely see the wall in front of him. He would not be beaten.
His breaths were coming shorter and faster now, another handhold, then another. Keep moving. Keep fighting. He was almost there—so close now he could almost taste it. The wind was howling in his ears like a wild beast screaming in rage. Then...then he cleared the top of the wall.
Below him there was no snow, and no fog, and no wind.
Below him was a crater, and deep within its centre lay a beast, its chest slowly rising and falling, the meteor which had once held it down vanished completely. Titan looked almost peaceful, lying there in the dusk, his outline shining in the twilight. Noctis took a deep, shuddering breath of cold air, falling onto the ledge just in front of him, his legs finally giving out. He was safe. He'd reached Titan in time.
Then the wailing he'd thought was the wind shifted. It's pitch got higher—louder, as though it was coming towards them. The cold suddenly abated, leaving Noctis shivering in the relative warmth. What—
A massive creature came flying from overhead, screaming, her voice now loud and clear and focused as the snow fell away to reveal her in all her glory. Leviathan was here, and she was furious.
She dove towards Titan with a blind, animal rage, and he, still unconscious, didn't move a muscle. Noctis began to move, to open his mouth, to scream to warn him, but as he did the cold came back with a vengeance—stealing his voice—stealing his very limbs.
"Hush," said a much colder, much sharper voice than the one that had guided him here. "You're too late."
Noctis watched as Leviathan bent her body back, about to strike Titan's neck—if she got him then it would all be over—
"Noctis!" The voice. "You still have time!"
Leviathan struck.
A scream tore itself from his throat as he sat bolt upright, but he was not yet truly awake. The field of flowers from the world between the worlds surrounded him. Layer upon layer of dreams—would he ever be able to wake up?
"Hello?" he called, stumbling to his feet. "What happened?" he asked the air. "What was that?"
"A mix of future and past, brought to life by the King's subconscious." Gentiana stood there, cool and pristine as ever.
"So that was the future?"
"It will be, if the King does not act."
"How did I see it?"
Gentiana smiled. "Every now and then the Messenger catches a glimpse of her former mistress's thoughts. She thought it prudent to inform the King of what she saw on this occasion."
"If Shiva kills him—it'll all be over?"
Gentiana's expression grew grim. "For the Archaean, yes. He is a being bound to recognise strength and naught else—even if he wished to assist you, at that point he could not."
"So I have to go to him." Noctis began pacing impatiently. "Then why am I still here? I need to go there—to find him."
"A moment, King of Light," said Gentiana, raising her hand. "All is not as it seems. Titan is in grave danger, but the Glacian is cunning. He is not the only target she has acquired."
Noctis's blood ran cold. "Why? What else is she doing?"
"The Messenger cannot say. The Glacian's thoughts on this matter are highly obscured, and her ability to read them grows ever weaker as the strength of Eos wanes."
That didn't sound good. "Eos is sick?"
"The Starscourge greatly weakens Her," said Gentiana, looking tireder than Noctis had ever seen her before. "But at present, the Glacian poses a much greater threat. The Messenger finds it likely that while the Hydraean will conquer the Archaean, the Glacian has other plans in mind. The King must not rest once he is done with the Archaean. There is much left to do."
"Okay," sighed Noctis.
He only hoped that whatever plans Shiva had they weren't too severe. Though knowing her...
"Go swiftly, King of Light," said Gentiana, as the clouds darkened. "There is not much time."
It was still dark behind the curtains when Noctis woke. In seconds he leapt from the bed, pulled on his shoes, and sprinted out of the door.
It was then the enormity of what he had to do crashed down on him. The Disc of Cauthess was miles away—without some form of transport he'd never get there in time. He needed to find a car. Where had Iris said they kept the military vehicles? He couldn't remember.
He had no idea what time it was, and was loathe to wake up Cor at any time, but this was desperate. He went running for the front edge of the Fort, where he knew Cor's office was, hoping his sleeping quarters wouldn't be far away.
He rushed up to the shack he called and office, and decided to check there first—just in case Cor had decided to wake very early.
He exploded through the tiny door, making Cor jolt upright and reach for the gun on his table.
"No, no—it's me!" said Noctis, flinging his hands up.
Cor snorted and flung his gun back down. "Haven't you heard of knocking?"
"No time for that," said Noctis, panting. "I need a car—or a truck—anything that can drive me somewhere fast."
"Why on earth do you need that?" asked Cor, raising his eyebrows.
"It's important," said Noctis, still buzzing with energy. "Titan's about to be attacked."
Cor stared at him skeptically.
"It's true, I swear," Noctis insisted. "Gentiana showed it to me—in a vision. If Bahamut gets Titan on his side now we'll only have a few weeks before he can crush us. I have to stop him."
Cor's unbelieving expression morphed into a frown. "Can you do this, Noctis? Not that I doubt your abilities, but one man against a God—"
"I can!" he cried, then shook himself, trying to get some sense back. "I mean, I still have my magic—kind of. It'll hurt, but if I can make it explode, if I can do it near Leviathan—"
"Did you not tell me mere hours ago that the last time you tried that it caused the deaths of many civilians in Altissia?" Cor had a hard look in his eyes now.
"Yes," said Noctis. "But no one else will be there—it'll just be me and Titan. I can do this. Cor, please. It's our only chance."
Cor scowled, clearly reluctant to make the judgement call Noctis was looking for.
"Fine," he snapped, and Noctis couldn't help but laugh with relief. "But take this." Cor tossed him a pair of keys. "Those are for the jeep—it's the fastest thing we have under the circumstances, and I'm sending men after you just in case we have another rampaging God on our hands."
"Understood," said Noctis. "Thank you."
Cor just nodded curtly, and Noctis went running for the warehouse where they were keeping the vehicles.
It didn't take long to find the jeep—it was near the exit, and the only vehicle that looked remotely well-looked after in the place. Noctis supposed they weren't exactly expecting to be deployed any time soon.
He quickly hopped into the drivers seat and turned the ignition. The engine turned, and he was ready to go.
Then he was out on the road, speeding down the highway as the sun began to rise far in the distance, a dim grey light just beginning to cloak the land in cold, muted colours. It was freezing, and Noctis had only his thin jacket as protection, but he found he didn't care. He needed to get to Titan as quickly as possible.
He was probably driving a bit too recklessly—dodging around cars, going perhaps ten miles an hour over the legal speed limit—but that didn't matter. He had a God to deal with.
The tall ridge surrounding the Disc of Cauthess rose high into the sky. There was no sign of either Leviathan or Titan. Good. He still had a chance.
The he was streaking down the road down towards the centre of the Disc—there were no cars here, just the long, twisting, turning road. It was getting colder though.
The huge iron gates that blocked off the Imperial Compound within the Disc rose before him, their impressive bulk impassable, even to Noctis's eyes. He'd need to find another way in. Hadn't he already been given a hint as to what he had to do? In his dream there was a sheer cliff-face that wasn't so sheer at all. He had to find it.
He jumped out of the jeep and began running. The Disc was huge, and it took him far too long to circle around to the angle he remembered in his dreams. But sure enough, there was the wall he'd seen before. Forbidding grey rock rising high above him. But he'd climbed this in the midst of a snowstorm, and he could damn well do it now.
He found the first handhold, fingers gripping the rock so tightly he thought they might bleed as he hauled himself up. It was all just as he remembered it. One handhold, then another. His feet slid along the rock as he struggled to find purchase, but he couldn't stop now. He pulled himself relentlessly upwards. The grey light of dawn was beginning to become obscured by dangerously dark clouds swirling above him. The storm was coming. She was coming.
He kept going, higher and higher. With each ragged breath he told himself it was only a little further...
Then he was there.
Ice cold wind blasted against him with such force that for a moment he thought he must fall over, but then he found his footing again, and finally, finally, he could see into the crater below.
Dim against the light lancing down from above, almost impossible to see if you weren't looking for it, a golden outline revealed Titan's sleeping form, hunched in the crater far below. Some of the desperate tension leaked out of his shoulders. Titan was still there, still sleeping—he'd gotten there in time.
So what now? How to stop Leviathan from coming? How to save Titan? If he tried to fight Leviathan alone there was still a chance that Titan would be caught in the crossfire. Could Noctis just order him back underground?
The wind was blowing ever more fiercely.
One thing was for certain—he needed to warn Titan. Now.
He jogged over to the edge of the crater. It was a sheer drop into the centre from here—one he couldn't possibly survive without warping. Oh well. Chances were he was going to need his sword soon enough anyway. He drew it from the Armiger, sending a tight, stinging sensation all the way down his arm.
The next second he was flying through the air, moving faster than light itself as he plummeted to where his sword had embedded itself in the rock. Then he was there—still a little way above Titan, but close enough to try and speak. It seemed, however, than Titan had already recognised his presence.
A huge, bloodshot eye was staring up at him from Titan's rock-hewn face. There was a supernatural light to it—a purple, shifting light, not dissimilar to the one Noctis sometimes knew lit his own eyes when he summoned the Gods. What did it mean?
There was now just a short drop for him to become level with Titan. Noctis slid down the slope, almost falling over in the process, but managing to stay on his feet as he finally hit level ground. Titan's massive form loomed above him, intimidating, but unmoving. Titan was still watching him, his violet eyes seeming to burn a hole right down to Noctis's very soul. How to communicate with him?
Then he heard it.
King of Light.
Titan wasn't actually speaking, his mouth unmoving as the words echoed around Noctis's head, but he knew they were from Titan, all the same.
This world lies in great peril. The Archeaen's strength has been sapped from him as the great Eos weakens, tormented both by the Accursed and the Archeaen's own brethren. He has a question.
"What is it?" Noctis asked aloud, hoping Titan would understand.
Will the King stop this?
Well, fortunately, that wasn't a hard one.
"I will do everything in my power to free Eos both from the darkness made by the Accursed, and the chaos being made by Bahamut," he said, bowing slightly in acknowledgement. "I give you my word."
Good.
The word carried some greater weight to it Noctis couldn't quite define, but he felt it reverberating through him, like the words in his head.
Soon the Archeaen's kin, the Glacian and the Hydreaen will be here. They seek to battle him, sever his loyalty to the King.
"I know," said Noctis, remembering the merciless snow, Leviathan's roar. "I don't know if I can stop them."
The oath is weak, forged as it was under false pretences, that the King lacked the power now burning through his veins. It is not impossible that a new promise could be made.
"You mean..."
If the King does battle with the Archeaen, for the purpose he just proclaimed to the heavens, the Archeaen will not be broken by the Glacian or the Hydreaen. He may die, but he will not bend.
"I see," said Noctis, now trembling as the full weight of it settled on him. "You want me to kill you then."
The fight will not be easy. The Archeaen must resist with all his strength if a true bond is to be forged.
"I'll do it," said Noctis. "If it means freeing you—freeing us, then I'll do it. However difficult it may be."
There was a great shuddering from the crater, and Noctis half-thought Titan was laughing. If Gods could laugh, that was.
Then the earth began rumbling again, but not with laugher this time. Titan was getting ready. They were going to have to fight.
Noctis just had time to grab his sword before the rock beneath him crumbled completely, and he was left to go flying towards the earth, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.
He landed with a thud—but managed to remain on his feet, even as pain went juddering up them.
Titan had risen before him, no longer half-visible in the growing light but solid and terrifyingly real. And he'd have no distraction in the form of the others either. He'd have to rely on his own strength alone.
Titan would have learnt from before his trick with the ice, and even as Noctis looked he saw Titan reaching for a great boulder near the top of the crater. Was he really going to hurl that thing at him? He couldn't deflect that! He had no choice but to run.
But the crater was so small with Titan lumbering about in it that there was nowhere to run, not without giving him the opportunity to just stomp on him and be done with it. He might not die permanently as a result, but he'd definitely lose Titan's allegiance. But wait...perhaps there was a way he could work this?
He sprinted over to what he thought was Titan's leg, even as the boulder collided with the earth behind him, sending chunks of rock flying through the air, and began looking for the largest crack he could find. There—just a little to the right—he flung himself at it, lining up his sword as best he could and—yes! He'd managed to lodge it in Titan's thigh, something confirmed by the grunt of pain he heard from somewhere high above.
Last time he'd used a combination of magic and sword-work to bring Titan down. This time he was going to have to rely on sword-work for his own safety. He flipped himself up so he was balancing on top of the sword, the blade strong beneath his feet, his hand clawed into one of the larger cracks running up Titan's leg. He needed to get higher. If he could just reach Titan's head...
The screeching sound of rock-on-rock above him signalled to Noctis that now was perhaps not the time to stop and think about things.
He looked above, searching for another large crack. It wasn't long before he found one—and then came the riskiest move he'd have to make all day. In one fluid motion, he removed the sword from below him, jammed it in a little higher and swung himself up onto it. His shoulder roared in response, and Noctis had to close his eyes for a moment as the pain faded. He really hoped that didn't mean he'd re-opened his wound.
Trying to do this with just one weapon was risky, but now he was actually on Titan he couldn't risk losing his balance by trying to conjure another implement from the Amiger. There was a ledge not far above him. If he could just reach it...
There was a roar as the rock of Titan's leg shifted beneath him, and a large stone hand was extending towards him. He was going to try and shake him off! No—he couldn't let the hand get him—
With renewed energy, he grabbed hold of a crack not far above him, and began flinging himself upwards with desperation, trying to stay out of the grasp of Titan's hand, even as he tried to keep his balance and his shoulder screamed in pain.
A couple of times he caught the sword too high up, cutting his fingers, making it even harder to maintain his grip as his palms became slick with blood. But he couldn't stop.
Just out of Titan's reach, he kept moving, until finally the ledge was in sight. He took his sword and flung it onto the ledge, warping over even as the magic blazed though his body with sickening heat, undoing then reconstituting him around the sword. But he had no time to think, no time to breathe.
He wasted no time grabbing another blade from the Amiger and, even as the adrenaline was making his limbs tremble, making a flying leap back towards Titan's calves, the swords cracking the rock and giving him safe purchase. Titan's hand collided with where he'd been standing on the ledge mere seconds later.
With two swords at his disposal, climbing became much easier, the rock cracking easily beneath the force of his blows. When he reached Titan's torso, however, he began encountering problems. It was almost impossible to keep climbing and dodge Titan's massive arms trying to shove him off at the same time. He ended up swinging from his sword, hanging on with all his strength as Titan tried to throw him off.
Something needed to happen—could he risk using magic at this stage?
But then, almost like a miracle, there was a massive BANG from beneath him, and Titan howled in pain, his weight shifting forwards—was he falling? That would be bad—
He was jolted violently to the left as Titan fell forwards, onto his knees, and it was only holding on so tight he could practically feel his fingers bleeding that saved him from the terrifying drop to the earth below. He wrenched himself up so he was sitting on the side of the blade, gasping for breath. The wind buffeted his legs as they hung free below him, and he dug his fingers into the rock even harder.
He had to keep going, keep climbing. Even though his heart was hammering away in his chest, making him feel jumpy and off-centre, he had to move. Carefully as he could, he shifted so one leg, then the other was beneath him, and he was crouched on the sword again. His knees ached in protest, trembling horribly beneath him. He couldn't stay there for long.
He reached up for the other sword, still embedded in Titan's side, just above him, thank the Gods. He grabbed hold tightly, removing the sword and placing it up a little further.
Just keep moving.
Step by step by step, higher and higher until he was finally on something like solid ground—Titan's broad shoulders were wide enough for him to stand on, especially since he was still hunched over from the weight of the meteor on his back. Just a little further—he drove his sword into Titan's neck. The bellowing roar shattering the air vanished in an instant.
Maybe this would be enough?
He repeated his usual procedure with the sword, driving it a bit higher into the stone, and Titan shook beneath him, the pain clearly weakening him. Noctis kept climbing up his neck, Titan seeming to fall lower and lower, and try harder and harder to swat him away as Noctis got higher and higher.
Then—the sun had all but disappeared behind the horizon now, the world beneath was hard to see, but he was there—he'd reached Titan's head.
He'd already been weakened from the fighting of Cor's men and Noctis's own attacks as he climbed Titan's body with his swords. Now it was time for the killing blow.
He raised the sword above his head, willing this to be enough. Then he drove it down as hard as he could into Titan's skull.
The crack as it entered seemed to be magnified by many times its normal volume, and with it came a scream—Titan? No, the voice was higher than Titan's—had it always been this cold up here? The wind was screaming in his ears so loudly he barely hear anything else—the ground beneath him shaking—glowing? Titan was glowing...and the ground wasn't so much shaking as disappearing...oh no.
Noctis had just enough strength in him to grab his sword and fling it towards the floor before Titan vanished completely. Then he was falling, the air rushing by him, so fast and so loud he could scarcely tell where he was, the ground rushing up beneath him. He called on the last vestiges of his magic, guiding his fingers to the hilt of his sword, somewhere on the ground below... He was there, touching the metal, he was—
Gone.
Ignis had barely been able to sleep that night. Visions of Noct's death haunted him behind his eyelids, and every time he was close to drifting off the vision would resurface, clawing at his mind—his memories. How long would they need to wait here to get the power they needed?
The campfire flickered and died, and the only source of light in the cave was the blue-ish glow from the haven. The veins of glowing crystal in the walls had vanished, and there was only a very fragile, dim light to see by.
It was cold down there in the caves too, and Ignis found himself shivering—tossing and turning on the hard stone floor.
Were the other two having any such restless slumber? Perhaps not. Perhaps they didn't truly understand what was at stake. They hadn't seen what he'd seen. How real it was.
Hours trickled by and the light from the haven danced on the ceiling.
When the other two finally began moving and waking up, Ignis wasn't sure how long he'd been lying there. He wasn't tired though. He couldn't be tired when there was still something so important they had to do.
He rose from where he lay, clambering onto his aching legs. Pain. Hah. That didn't matter anymore.
"Everything good, Iggy?" asked Gladio, giving a sleepy yawn.
"Fine," said Ignis. He wasn't much in the mood for pointless chatter.
Where was that voice from before? She'd said that they needed to rest before the final task. Well they were there now. So where was she?
He glanced at the other two. They didn't seem so concerned, still messing about, tidying up. Ignis had no patience for such things, and stepped off the haven, trying to see if that would trigger some sort of reaction.
Noble retainers.
Ha.
The hour has come. The final task awaits. Are they ready to proceed?
Ignis glanced back at them, and was happy to see they were finally paying attention to what they were really there for.
"We're ready," he said, answering for all of them.
Perhaps he was imagining it, but the presence he could feel watching them seemed pleased.
The final task is simple, said the voice, and quite suddenly, the solid stone wall at the end of the chamber changed, morphing before their very eyes into the entrance of yet another room. Eerie purple light glowed within, but there was something spectacular about it—something alluring.
They need only proceed into the final chamber, and their lives will be taken in exchange for that of their Prince.
The chill that had been present in the room before turned to cold sharp as the edge of a knife. But Ignis was not afraid.
He'd suspected it might come to this—the Gods so often tampered with the lives mortals, and it made sense that lives would have to be given in order to save another. He'd been raised from childhood to be prepared to give his own life for Noct's—and besides, was a world without him really worth living in? One where he turned into a mere memory? No, it was out of the question.
"Um, could you say that again?" Prompto's voice was weak and timid. Ever the weakest link in the chain—a mere friend, not truly dedicated to Noct.
"The instructions were clear," said Ignis, turning around to face him. "Our lives for Noct's."
He'd thought they'd understand—that Gladio especially, who was now wearing an expression of deep alarm, would understand. But perhaps they didn't? An unusual anger boiled within him. How was it they couldn't see how important this was?
"But—" Gladio began to say, but Ignis cut him off.
"It makes sense. A life for a life."
"Three lives for a life," Prompto tentatively pointed out. "Does that tally up?"
"It's magic!" hissed Ignis, beginning to get frustrated. "The world of mathematics doesn't apply."
"No," said Gladio. "This is weird. I've never heard of magic like this."
Ignis's frustration was rising by the second. "We'd never heard of magic eating someone from the inside out until Noct's magic started going out of control either," he insisted. "And time travel? Who would have thought of such a thing beforehand. If you think you can weasel out of this—"
"Can you hear yourself?" asked Gladio, now staring at him with wide eyes. "It's like you want to die."
"I will do what's necessary to preserve Noct's life," said Ignis, drawing himself up, a heady rage surging through his bones. "Though I feel I ought to remind you that should be your job."
"But this is—" Prompto began to say, now trembling like the coward he was.
"This is necessary!" Ignis cried, and now both of them were shaking.
White tendrils of ice were spreading across the floor, and Ignis suddenly thought that he hoped they froze Prompto and Gladio—then the sacrifice would already be made, and they couldn't ruin everything.
"No!" cried Gladio, levying his sword, though he could barely hold it in his shaking hands. "Can't you see what's happening? She's tricking you—tricking all of us!"
"You just don't want to make the sacrifice!" Ignis yelled, the rage now uncontrollable. "You've never had Noct's interests at heart, always putting your own selfish gains first! Well I've had it—we have to save him—it's your duty to save him!"
Gladio tried to protest but ice was already crawling up his body, depriving him of speech.
"Ignis," Prompto said quietly, but Ignis rounded on him.
"And you!" he screamed, shaking now as well. "You would also put yourself ahead of his survival. You've never been as dedicated as us—you're nothing but a useless burden on this team!"
Then they were both frozen, solid as ice, unmoving, caught in an eternal tableau.
The chamber behind him awaited. The purple light glowed ever more fiercely as he entered, and a soft voice spoke to him.
Well done, blinded seer. Now, will he give his life to save his Prince?
A ghostly form appeared before him, shining so brilliantly he could barely make out her features—other than a long, slender hand that was extended towards him.
"I will," he said, and took it.
