Every time Regis thought he had experienced the worst the past few days had to offer, the Gods proved him wrong.
Pushing Reina out of the city as she begged to stay had been one of the hardest things he had ever done. Everything since then had been out of his hands, but that didn't make it easier. He hated watching her come home as a different woman than she had been two days before. He hated feeling useless as he followed in her wake, stumbling around and trying to grasp the reality of the situation—he still had only half an idea of what was happening.
For a little while he thought it couldn't possibly get worse than knowing his little girl had been trapped in a ten-year-long nightmare, which was entirely his fault. But then he had to pass on to her—on top of everything else—a burden he had spent twenty years trying to spare them from. He had to watch, helpless, as she put on the ring and felt the molten fire of the Lucii coursing through her.
Everything else paled in the face of her pain. He would have given anything to have spared her suffering, but he had nothing left to give. His body ached, a constant reminder that he wasn't as young as he had once been; he was too old to be running around the Citadel at all hours of the night. Too old. Older than he should have been at fifty; that was the price he paid for the safety of his people.
Now Reina paid it in his stead. And in its absence, Regis felt exhausted. Drained. Somehow, the necessity of carrying that weight had given him the strength to bear it. It had to come from somewhere, so he had found somewhere to pull it from. Now he was a deflated balloon—all stretched out and worn but empty and devoid of purpose.
And Insomnia was full of daemons.
Daemons. He should have known that would happen. They were all so focused on the imperials that none of them had given any thought to the other reason why the Wall was in place.
Four years it had been since he faced combat. He scrambled to remember how to throw lightning, scraping the bottom of his energy reserves and forcing the magic into elemancy. It was a clumsy, stumbling attempt; the first bolt struck wide and left a scorch mark on the wall of the crystal chamber. He gathered up a second handful and thrust that out, too. This one hit its mark but the daemon stood, still. He was better than this, damn it! When had he turned into a fumbling old man? When had he traded strength and skill for the ineptitude of an invalid? Perhaps it would come back, now that the Wall was off his shoulders.
Perhaps it wouldn't.
Just as she had four years before—the last time Regis had faced death and stumbled—Reina saved him.
He managed to get his legs beneath him but they quivered, threatening to give out for the second time in as many minutes. He clutched at his cane—that accursed crutch—and Reina came to steady him. She was alright. She was whole. She had weathered the Lucii's judgement and mastered the ring. Though he wanted little more than to embrace her and kiss her hair and assure both of them that she would live, he pushed her away. The Wall. The Wall needed to be rebuilt if they were ever going to hold back the daemons.
It was hard to be reminded how little he understood when she called for the Imperial Chancellor and hinted he was so much more than that. It was harder still to watch her walk toward the crystal with the ring on her hand. A part of him wanted to stop her. Yes, it should have been only temporary—she only wished to protect the ring from the imperials—but all he could see was his little girl shackling herself to the same fate he had borne throughout his entire reign. Better that he stop her now and save her from that. The daemons they could kill until dawn. But Reina would never again have back the life that she fed to the crystal.
Because he knew—whatever she said—
She would never return the ring.
She had been begging to carry it for him since she was old enough to understand what it did—what it was doing to him. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how heavy she found that burden, she was never going to let him carry it again.
Ah, Reina! Didn't she understand there were worse things in life than the weight of his chains? Didn't she realize he would have given everything a hundred times over if it meant sparing her from this?
Of course she did. Fool old man. She understood what it felt like to watch the one she loved most suffering. That was why she wanted the damn ring in the first place.
Would that the Gods had never given it to their family.
It wasn't worth this.
Reina stretched out her hand toward the crystal and her skin lit violet in the light. She tangled her fingers in the heart of the geode and called forth more and more of that light until the whole room was ablaze with it, and still it wasn't enough to build the Wall. It built to blinding radiance, reflecting off the floor and walls until the only thing he could see was her—silhouetted against the heart of the star. And she cried out in pain as all that power coursed through her, swelling until there was nowhere left for it. And still it was not enough.
Nothing was worth this.
Regis stepped forward, though his knee protested every step and even with the help of his cane he limped and hobbled like a decrepit old man. Reina's screams bounced around the circular room until he couldn't tell where the sound ended and the echo began. He needed to end this. He needed to spare her this pain and fix something, even if he hadn't been able to fix anything else.
Yes, people would die. He had been willing to give his own life for theirs, to protect Lucis to his last breath, but he didn't have the strength to rebuild the Wall—not anymore. And though he was still willing to give his own life…
He wasn't willing to give his daughter's life. Not in one burst and not in the slow drag that would consume everything she was over the next thirty years.
The crystal had already demanded Noctis'. Would they strip him of both his children? Noctis' fate had eaten at Regis for fifteen years, but he had tried—he had tried, Gods damn it—to give his son the best life he could have.
And Reina…
He had believed she would have plenty of time to enjoy life. Later. It was always later with her. He would spend time with her later. He would attend her recital later. He would meet her friends later.
They were running out of laters. With what time he had left, he meant to make up for it
Regis tossed his cane aside and wrapped his arms around her. "Reina—"
She turned to look at him, face still tight with pain and one hand on the crystal. The magic was still building, still pouring through her. Once the process was started it dragged her along, a raging current, and all she could do was hold on.
"Swear to me you will not let the Wall take your life as it has taken mine." He kissed her hair, holding her fiercely against his chest. "Swear it."
"Father—" Her voice was tight—strangled with pain as she forced just a few words out. "I swear—I will not give my life to the Astrals—ah—nor Noctis' life."
Nor Noctis' life? Was it possible that her Dream had shown her the way out he had spent fifteen years searching for, to no avail?
"This is for Insomnia," Reina said through gritted teeth. "For Noctis—for Ignis—for Iris and Cor—"
She turned back toward the crystal and he felt her seize the power as it poured through her. "For Clarus—"
She gathered up the brimming well of magic within the room and spun it into a rope more rapidly—more deftly—than he could ever have done. She looked back up at him.
"For you—" And she thrust the magic out through the glass ceiling.
A beam of violet light burst from the crystal and lit the sky above. When he squinted past it, Regis could just see the Wall reforming, a thousand feet over their heads. Once the magic was free from the chamber, the light within dimmed to its natural level. Even that seemed dark now.
Reina sagged farther forward with each passing second, one hand still against the crystal. Regis tightened his hold on her. By the time the Wall connected with the outer foundations and Reina's hand slipped from the crystal, he was supporting her full weight.
Not, if he had thought about it, the best position to be in.
His knee quivered as it threatened to give out under the added weight, but still he held on. She remained limp in his arms as the seconds stretched on; with each one, they sank closer to the ground. He was going to have to choose between dropping onto his bad knee—because the brace would soften the impact, that knee was going first anyway, and at least he had some chance of getting back up again if the other knee was up—or his good knee because Gods damn, it hurt to kneel on the bad one.
He had just resolved to take the pain for the sake of practicality when Reina stirred.
"Father…" Her feet found more solid purchase on the ground, but she was still pulling against him.
"I have you, my dear." For a little longer, at least. He pressed his lips to her temple and tightened his hold on her. "I have you."
"Father—!"
She seemed to catch her bearings all at once; perhaps she had noticed he was holding her and not his cane. She put her feet down and straightened her knees so that he was only trying to hold himself up with a leg and a half—also not an ideal situation, but an improvement to the previous one. Then she tucked under his arm and braced him until he found his balance again.
"Thank you, my dear."
She managed to retrieve his cane. With that and her, he was about as stable as he was likely to be.
"Are you alright?" He looked earnestly at her, searching her face for the answer and brushing her hair back. "You carry the weight of the Wall…"
"Yes," she said, and it wasn't immediately evident whether she was responding to his question or his observation.
"How do you find it?"
She looked down at the ring on her hand—now quietly inert—then back up at him. "Heavy."
He smiled sadly and kissed her forehead. Just one more burden he had never meant to share with her.
"And you?" She asked. "How does it feel to be free of it at last?"
"Do you recall all those nights when you spent too many hours in training and arrived at dinner to find that even your spoon was too heavy to lift?"
A look of consternation crossed her face. "You weren't supposed to know I was spending so much time in training!"
She was much too bright to believe that he didn't always know precisely what she was up to—most especially when she wasn't forthcoming with the information. He gave her a look that said as much and continued without further comment.
"It feels much the same as that."
"Well then, you'll have exceptionally big muscles, tomorrow." And there, underneath all the fire and focus, he caught a glimpse of his little Reina.
It startled a laugh from him. "More likely I shall be exceptionally sore."
"In a few days then."
Regis smiled and reached out to smooth his hand over her hair. They were far from out of the dark. The Wall was back in place, but the damage had already been done—daemons ran amok in the streets of Insomnia and now they were trapped inside with everyone else. But if they didn't take this one second to breathe and remember who they were and what this was for, they would never make it through until dawn.