Chapter Eight: In Obscurum

Ignis had gone to great lengths to predict what they would encounter when they departed the Citadel for the Tempering Grounds. There was no way to be entirely certain of what awaited them, of course: they were dealing with the Astrals, all of whom were capricious at best. They claimed affection for humanity and then fought a war that devastated the people they allegedly cared about; they declared themselves allies to the Lucis Caelum line and then chose to test their Chosen's faith with trials that, in some cases, proved deadly. At every turn, they had done what served their own purposes at the expense of their loyal followers, inciting the sort of discord that was capable of razing entire civilizations to the ground.

An optimistic man might have believed that this was different. One of the Six visiting them in their dreams, spurring them on their path to rescuing their lost king? It spoke more of their support than their contempt, especially when none in Eos had recently warranted the Astrals' attention until now. An optimistic man, despite his caution, might have considered that a sign of the gods' favor.

Ignis, however, was not an optimistic man. He was a realist, and a realist comprehended that contingency plans were necessary regardless of your conviction that things couldn't possibly culminate in the worst.

Losing Gladio undoubtedly qualified as the latter.

In hindsight, Ignis recognized that it had been a strategic misstep to venture forth as they had during the sudden and unabating frenzy the so-called earthquake had caused, and this was the consequence of their stupidity—separation, perchance permanently depending on what their hosts had in mind for Gladio. Not once in the agonizing minutes of horrified silence afterward had he harbored the belief they had merely meandered into a natural disaster of epic proportions, not when the Six were supreme in this world and the uproar had diminished immediately after Gladio had been spirited away. The sensation was familiar enough, reminiscent of their journey into the Disc of Cauthess to gain the Archaean's blessing for Noct, but it was simply too convenient to be any less than an orchestrated endeavor.

Whatever its purpose, it had worked. In the chaos, he regretted to say that he hadn't paid close attention to what was going on. Otherwise, he may have realized sooner that they should have stayed together rather than attempting to flee the inescapable onslaught. If they had, maybe they all would have been taken wherever it was the Six decreed.

Instead, they were another man down with no idea of how to locate him.

"I still don't see him!" called Prompto from where he had climbed atop one of the taller stone formations to survey the lay of the land from a better vantage point.

Frowning, Ignis suggested, "Perhaps it would be best to double back. It's possible he was thrown in the other direction."

It was a tenuous hope, and they both knew it. Given that they were running low on options, though, he supposed it was as reasonable a course as the next. There was no use in hunting around the same area they'd already scanned for any indication that their missing companion had come this way, even if they couldn't be sure that their search wouldn't lead them further from where he'd landed either.

His own uncertainty was reflected in Prompto's features when he descended from his perch, lips downturned and gaze uneasy as he replied, "I dunno, Iggy. Would the Six really go to all that trouble just to dump him back where we started?"

"It's difficult to say, but we can't rule out the prospect."

"Guess it depends on whether they heard all that stuff from before, huh?" Prompto joked, although there was little humor in it.

A noncommittal hum was all Ignis could manage in response, glaring into the distance as though he might spy Gladio if he tried hard enough. That was one factor of their predicament that he had been attempting to ignore, so it was hardly a surprise that Prompto gave it voice. The Astrals were, by all accounts, as tolerant as they were changeable: Bahamut had spent countless decades watching over them from the heart of their Star, and the Glacian herself had presumably lived amongst humans for centuries. While the others had slept for much of that time, the fact remained that they did not easily turn their backs on those who were meant to venerate them as the protectors of Eos. Only the Infernian had been capable of such treason, both before and after Ardyn's influence had tainted his judgment; he had paid for it dearly as a result. Mere insults, if Ignis could refer to Gladio's admittedly justified grievances in that manner, were therefore unlikely to earn their ire to the point where they would enact some heinous revenge. A silly prank like forcing him to start fresh where they had entered from the Tempering Grounds, perhaps, but nothing drastic—nothing fatal.

That, in any case, was the gamble he had chosen to accept. He had been wrong in the past and would be again. Ignis simply kept his fingers crossed that this was not one of those occasions. They'd already lost one member of their party—that was more than they could handle as it was.

Uncannily, Prompto seemed capable of sensing his thoughts, albeit with rather a different conclusion than Ignis would have preferred. Obviously interpreting his silence as agreement, he recommended, "Maybe we oughta split up. We could cover more ground and meet in the middle?"

"No," Ignis immediately declined. "There's no telling what might happen if we spread out, and we've no way to contact each other should we run into trouble. It's safer to remain together for the time being."

"Or till the next earthquake," lilted Prompto sarcastically. It was a valid point in spite of Ignis's irritation.

"It is a distinct possibility."

"Better that than a flood, though. No towels around here."

Ignis nearly groaned at the mere notion of what an unmitigated mess that would be, biting the inside of his cheek against it at the last moment. It was a small comfort that they were nowhere near the water, but the laws of nature did not apply here and were thus rendered useless. Staying together had proven impossible under present circumstances; he did not want to imagine what it would be like if their next disaster was of a wetter variety.

So, he didn't. He merely nodded tightly and seamlessly changed the subject.

"We'd best be quick before anything else occurs to set us back."

"Aye aye, captain. Where to?"

Pausing briefly, Ignis tore his gaze from the nearly invisible line of green where they had first arrived and focused instead on the distant Nebulawood. If he knew Gladio as he believed he did, then the latter would doubtless want them to keep moving, not waste time searching for him. He would say that they had more important matters to be getting on with and that, should he still be breathing, he would catch up eventually. For his part, Ignis didn't agree in the slightest: they needed each other, as did their king. This undertaking wasn't designed for one or even two of their small group; wandering the unknown as they were, they required every available hand on deck. While it would mean keeping Noct and the Six waiting, he wasn't ready to give up the hunt just yet.

"We press onward," he ultimately decided with careful deliberation.

Prompto didn't let him explain, automatically assuming, "We're just gonna leave Gladio out here?!"

"Of course not," Ignis retorted impatiently. "We'll watch for him as we go. If we haven't found him by the time we reach the main thoroughfare, then we'll work our way back around. It will be easier to see him from the road, in any case."

If there was anything left to find, that was. He didn't mention it aloud, but he could tell that Prompto was thinking the same.

They couldn't afford to let the shadow of grief immobilize them, though. Doing so was detrimental to their mission, and Ignis would have none of that. They'd come too far to falter now.

More than anything, the idea of failure made it a bit more palatable to continue on, neither of them venturing further from one another than the distance required to stay atop the rocky outcroppings that haloed the Disc of Cauthess. All the while, Ignis sent up a silent word of thanks to their hosts for allowing him use of his sight. As discomfiting as the silence remained, it would have been incalculably difficult to stand their separation if he had to stumble through this world as he did their own. They needed two pairs of eyes for this; Prompto would have been overwhelmed by the task of searching for Gladio himself. He wouldn't have said so, nor would he have complained that it was beyond what he could manage—they were long past those days. Even so, Ignis was glad to be of some help in this instance, given that it was more than he could say for his behavior prior to the Astrals' interference.

He didn't regret what he'd done. It was necessary, whether he chose to remark on Gladio's demeanor here or the Citadel or anywhere else. There was never a good time to address the subject, and for the last year, they had beaten around the proverbial bush so that hurt feelings wouldn't mar their already strained friendship. Ignis loved Gladio like the brother he was, just as he felt the same affection for Noct and Prompto; as such, he had been careful to approach him about his guilt and his grief without sparking the emotional explosion they had weathered earlier. Nothing ever worked, and if he was being honest, Ignis wasn't entirely surprised. Gladiolus Amicitia had one of the hardest skulls Ignis had ever seen, which was quite the achievement when they had all witnessed the grandeur that was the Archaean. Subtlety was not the former Shield's strong suit; neither were gentle hints. Whenever Ignis made mention of his state of mind in the roundabout manner he frequently utilized, Gladio vanished so quickly and thoroughly that he put the gods' efforts to shame.

Something had to change. Something had to give, and Gladio wasn't the sort to cede ground of his own accord. Therefore, it fell to Ignis to take the first step. Recently, and especially in light of the marshal's orders, he had resolved to do more. The wall of stubbornness and shame that Gladio had built around himself had to be broken; if he wouldn't tear it down willingly, then Ignis had committed to doing so by force.

This, however, hadn't been the opportune moment as he'd originally anticipated. Ignis couldn't claim not to have known what he was thinking in pressing the issue, because he did: in this place, there was no escaping the conversation at hand. Here, Gladio would have to listen without running and hiding the way he usually did with those self-appointed missions of his. If ever there were an occasion to take advantage of, he had believed that this was it—with those walls down and Gladio's soul laid bare for them to shake some sense into.

Needless to say, Ignis had vastly miscalculated.

The worst of it wasn't that he hadn't gotten through to Gladio when he'd been laboring under the delusion that this was his chance. Ignis could accept that it was going to take longer for them to reach the level of understanding he sought where the former Shield's dignity was concerned, and both he and Prompto had silently devoted themselves to the uphill struggle it presented months ago. No, the worst was that so many of the final words they'd spoken to each other had been in anger. Perhaps it was due to a superfluous fear born of his misgivings about their plight, but he couldn't quite dispel it either. After all, they had learned at multiple junctures that you weren't always given the option to say what you ought to—a decade's worth of junctures, to be precise. He refused to admit that Gladio was gone or that the Six had decided to dispose of him forever: it was far too early to come to that conclusion regardless of the difficult position they had been placed in. Even so, Ignis couldn't control the twinge of remorse that had him wordlessly praying that they would find him in one piece if for no other reason than to bring some closure to their conversation.

In this instance, luck appeared to be on their side. They were within sight of the road, Ignis's heart hovering somewhere near his appendix, when something entirely out of place in their surroundings caught his eye. It was hardly visible, a mere speck in the distance, yet recognizable all the same.

"Prompto, there!"

Ignis didn't wait, not to verify that Prompto noticed as well or that he was following. The sound of a second pair of boots against the crystal was indication enough as he leapt from the mound he'd been traversing and sprinted in the direction of the anomaly. It may have been foolish of him, but in that instant, he refused to consider the possibility that it wasn't Gladio: the gods were known for many things, unpredictability included, yet their recent experiences pointed to the opposite. Not once since they'd arrived had there been a tremendous change in the environment; besides the divinely inspired quake, everything had remained static. The crystal, the angle of the sun, even the unnerving stillness in the air—all of it was as it had been hours ago. It was statistically improbable that the Six had decided to drop a lump of cloth in the middle of a field at random.

That they had chosen to drop Gladio in the middle of a field at random, however, was apparently more likely.

"Ohhhhhh, man," Prompto murmured, both of them hovering over their friend where they skidded to a halt beside him. "He doesn't look so good."

"Whatever gave you that idea?" huffed Ignis, incapable of restraining his brittle sarcasm when the miniature mountain that was Gladio didn't remotely register their presence. It hadn't been often in their travels that he had been rendered so utterly helpless, unconscious as he was and without any defense if the two of them hadn't happened upon him. Indeed, Ignis hadn't seen him at any less than his best form since they were boys, the altercation with Ravus notwithstanding. Gladio wasn't one to show weakness, at least not of the physical variety, yet that was all Ignis could see as he prodded him gently.

So much, then, for luck. Tentative pokes or rough shaking, it made no difference—Gladio was unresponsive to their efforts in rousing him. And, oddly enough, that wasn't the strangest part.

"It…doesn't look like he's hurt," observed Prompto with a perplexed frown.

Nodding, Ignis mused, "The same thought had occurred to me."

"Maybe the Six were just messing around?"

"I doubt that," scoffed Ignis before admitting, "although there don't seem to be any signs of a struggle."

"Cosmic smackdown. Nice."

"If by nice you mean you're agreeable to carrying him, then yes, it is."

That certainly caught Prompto off guard, and it was nearly comical how far towards the ground his jaw dropped. "You're kidding, right?"

Ignis merely raised an eyebrow. "How else do you intend to transport him?"

"Uh… I figured we'd wait for him to wake up," Prompto suggested as though that should have been the obvious course of action.

Any other day, it may have been the simplest choice if not the clearest one. With all that carefully toned muscle, Gladio was the heaviest of the three of them; hefting his weight would be no mean feat, especially when his height merely added to the trial. They hadn't come here for simplicity, though, nor were they likely to find any if they remained where they were. Now that they knew the Six were watching as closely as the Blademaster had indicated—and that they weren't averse to using rather cunning methods of throwing them off track—Ignis had his reservations. He doubted they would find any spot in the Astrals' creation that was entirely safe from their brand of intrusion, but there was something to be said for the illusion of security, however fleeting it might be.

So, shaking his head, he argued, "I don't like the idea of stopping in the open. It leaves us vulnerable."

"So does being here at all," countered Prompto, cottoning on to what Ignis had long since realized. "Not like they can't find us pretty much everywhere."

"All the more reason to keep moving," Ignis insisted, much to Prompto's apparent confusion.

"And how's that exactly?"

"The Six have already seen fit to separate us once. Should they decide to do so again, it would be advantageous to have covered more distance first."

Fragile excuse or not, neither could deny that there was some merit in the notion. The Glacian hadn't brought them this far so they could sit idly and bask in the privilege of not attending to their normal duties, after all. In this remote corner of nonsensical space, he did not have to host meetings or draw up plans; no one was looking to him for advisement, nor did he have to enlist the assistance of others for his own purposes. If it weren't for the imposing silence and the nature of their quest, Ignis would have found it somewhat enjoyable to relax in this haven of sorts—but he couldn't. They couldn't. Noct was waiting for them, asleep or awake, and their mission was to find him, not to treat this as a vacation or dawdle because of minor setbacks.

Though Prompto's reaction was less than keen, he nevertheless refrained from complaining further and grabbed one of Gladio's wrists to swing a sizable arm across his shoulders. Grateful for his cooperation, Ignis did the same on his side, biting back a groan at the sheer exertion it took merely to haul him to his feet. Musculature, while useful for a Shield, was an impressive nuisance in moments like this.

It wasn't their only frustration either. Once they were situated, Ignis nodded to where Gladio's sword lay abandoned a short distance off and commanded, "Don't forget that. He'll be needing it when he wakes."

"Why don't you get it?" grumbled Prompto, shifting uncomfortably under Gladio's bulk.

"You're nearer."

"Am not!"

"Would you care to hold him while I retrieve it, then?"

"All right, all right! I'm going."

Ignis should have known that his victory would be short-lived: bearing the full weight of their comrade was more difficult than anticipated, and by the time Prompto returned to his post (after taking a few extra seconds purely for the sake of retribution), Ignis was already sweating from the strain. Yes, he'd certainly lost a great deal of his physicality in the last year. First the trek, and now this? It was emasculating to realize that he had fallen so far in such a short amount of time. A strict workout regimen was definitely in order when they returned to the Citadel. It didn't matter if he never went on another excursion as long as he lived—at least he would know that he could if needs be.

As it stood, he was regretting his lack of attention to his own physique as they struggled to drag Gladio's over the uneven terrain towards the road. Each step seemed to cost them more energy than they had to spare with their empty stomachs and protesting kidneys, and not for a moment did their burden regain any consciousness to even involuntarily ease their passage. That, of course, would have been too convenient. Rather, Ignis's sole comfort stemmed from the fact that Prompto was similarly beleaguered, his tongue poking out from between his teeth in concentration. Unlike Ignis, he had been more proactive in his training, for both personal and professional reasons. While his position also necessitated a bit more inactivity than they had been accustomed to for the last decade, he still ventured forth from Insomnia often enough that he had to keep an eye on his stamina. Of the two of them, he should have been better equipped to handle this chore, but it appeared that they were equally matched in the face of this test of strength.

How remarkable it was that the Six, in punishing Gladio, had chosen to penalize them as well.

Neither did the Astrals commute their sentence until they were so near the Nebulawood that they could see the crystal-sheathed surface of Alstor Slough beyond, which merely added to their combined irritation. Admittedly, Ignis would have been lying if he claimed that the physical stress was exclusively to blame for it: their concern grew the further they staggered with no reaction from Gladio forthcoming. He had no visible injuries, with the exception of a lump forming on the side of his head where Ignis assumed it had struck the ground; they could spy no broken bones, no unnatural protuberances, no blood oozing from cuts hidden from sight. By all accounts, Gladio was perfectly fine. Nothing but the ire of the six—or perhaps their humor—should have kept him from waking.

Yet that was precisely what happened. They were approaching the edge of the trees, Ausace Haven rising up to greet them, before a groan of pain finally broke the silence.

"Good morning," he managed, somehow without gasping. It was possibly his greatest achievement all day.

The same could be said for Gladio when he groggily lifted his head, his feet finally assisting them of their own accord as he glared around in a bemused daze.

"Wha'th'ell 'appened?" he slurred almost incoherently.

"You—You were—out, dude," huffed Prompto, who managed to combine just the right amounts of relief and indignation when he shot Gladio a look out of the corner of his eye. It was a testament to how disoriented the latter was that he didn't comment, so much so that Ignis wasn't sure whether they should be concerned or not.

"Out?"

"Like a light."

"And some distance from where we were separated," prompted Ignis in an attempt to jog his seemingly spotty memory.

That was easier said than done. Despite Gladio's wordless insistence that he could walk under his own power (which he could, albeit with a good bit of wobbling at first), he didn't appear to have any idea what they were talking about. It was either that, or he was simply lost in his own thoughts so that their words filtered in through one ear and out the other. Ignis couldn't tell which was more likely, though he leaned towards the latter: there was a different sort of heaviness to his gait that had nothing to do with the knot on his forehead or his gradually disintegrating bewilderment as Gladio regained his bearings, and unless Ignis was quite mistaken, his eyes darted about as if he expected something to be watching them from the shadows of the tall pines ahead. Of course, that had never been in question, even if they likely wouldn't be able to see their audience unless the latter desired it. In this place, Ignis doubted they would find any true privacy whatsoever.

That was fine. They didn't need privacy or the peace of mind that a closed door and empty room often provided. There were higher priorities to be managed: they had a long way to go, and they needed to be sure that all three of them were in decent enough condition to make the journey. Gladio, while upright and growing steadier by the moment, was their weak link. It was a problem to be remedied as soon as possible, not when they were on the run from yet another alleged natural disaster.

The glance he exchanged with Prompto indicated that he felt the same, and Ignis did not attempt to subdue him when he tentatively inquired, "You all right there, big guy?"

"Huh? Yeah, I…" Frowning, Gladio shook his head as if to clear it and pasted a distinctly fabricated version of his typical grin into place. "What, you worried about me?"

Snorting, Prompto shoved past him and called over his shoulder, "Nope. Just making sure you're not gonna make us drag you all the way to the haven or anything. You're no lightweight."

"You callin' me fat?" he demanded, although it fell a bit flatter than usual.

Prompto was by far the better actor in this instance. While Ignis concentrated on cataloguing the inconsistencies in Gladio's behavior, he casually retorted, "Gotta lay off the Cup Noodles, man."

"Cup Noodles are healthy."

"They're a sodium-fueled nightmare," Ignis contradicted him with a roll of his eyes. What he wanted was to press the subject of what had happened, especially now that Gladio was attempting to divert their attention with this seemingly lighthearted banter of his, but he wasn't given the opportunity.

Barking a strained laugh, Gladio evaded, "You should be happy. Least they've got vegetables in 'em."

"Freeze-dried cubes of negotiable nutrition hardly qualify."

Gladio didn't deign to respond, not that Ignis believed he would ever be lucky enough to win that battle. He had been struggling with Noct's penchant for unhealthy eating since he was a child, and having a Shield that was hardly any better hadn't helped matters. To put it plainly, Gladio was a creature of habit; adaptable as he was, there were still numerous facets of his personality that never changed regardless of the circumstances. Cup Noodles, for all their failings, were one of them.

Another was his irksome habit of hiding the contents of his mind when he would have been better served by sharing them.

As they followed in Prompto's wake, Gladio's feet dragging slightly in his apparent exhaustion, Ignis nearly opted not to say anything about it. He'd already crossed a few too many boundaries today for comfort, and the Astrals' interference had highlighted the fact that he needed to be more careful with how he phrased things lest he alienate Gladio even further from their brotherhood.

Boundaries, however, were only of use when what lay beyond them was worthy of protecting. Whatever had happened earlier, whatever Gladio had endured when he wasn't with them was not something that he had the luxury of keeping to himself. His grief, his self-loathing, even his obsession with staying busy rather than transmuting his pain into some form of closure were his crosses to bear. Ignis knew better than anyone that there were some daemons you couldn't eradicate, particularly the ones that inhabited one's own head; those were Gladio's to deal with, much as he tried to assist in the endeavor.

This wasn't the same. This might very well be the difference between success and failure, and failure was not an option. Not here—not when Noct's fate hung in the balance.

So, Ignis paid no attention to the voice in the back of his head that urged caution. To do so would be to prioritize emotion over duty, a folly of which he was not capable. That being the case, Gladio would have to forgive him for his candor.

"Are we to ignore the behemoth in the room?" Ignis therefore inquired, slowing to a halt and waiting for the others to do the same.

No explanations were required: he could see in the stiff set of Gladio's shoulders that he understood what he was being asked. For half a moment, Ignis thought perhaps he wouldn't reply; Gladio merely turned his head a fraction, not meeting Ignis's eyes but also not berating him for once again choosing not to mind his own business. He didn't walk away, though, which was encouragement enough for Ignis to pry a bit further.

"We can't leave this unaddressed," he pressed, cautious yet firm. "What happened back there may be the key to our quest."

In spite of his obvious reluctance, Gladio nevertheless chuckled darkly before he rejoined, "What do you think happened? I got my ass handed to me."

"Ooh, the Six weren't feeling the blame game, huh?" sympathized Prompto. His gaze drifted to Gladio's hand where it was clenched tightly into a fist at his side, as did Ignis's. It was impossible not to notice the subtle tremor there; whether it originated from emotion or mere fatigue, however, was anyone's guess.

"You could say that," grunted Gladio vaguely.

"And what else could you say?" asked Ignis with a sigh. They already had a difficult road ahead—he did not need the same characteristic in his companions.

As it happened, Gladio either heard his disdain or was suffering a bout of rationality for a change. His eyes were grim when he eventually glanced over his shoulder at Ignis, and what he saw in their depths was not so heartening.

"That we got bigger problems than just getting to Insomnia."

Ignis nodded, the muscle in his jaw twitching. "Of course."

"Wouldn't be an adventure without trouble," posited Prompto, ever the voice of optimism if not reason.

"If they wanted to give us a break, I wouldn't mind," Gladio grumbled. "Had my fill of trouble for one day."

"You said it."

"What brand of trouble are we set to encounter this time?" Ignis inquired, silently agreeing with them. It felt like they would never be rid of the constant trials that had been waiting around every corner since they had learned of Noct's engagement, and while he wouldn't deny that there was a certain excitement in the unknown, some occasions begged the question of why they couldn't attend to their errands as most people did. Escorting a prince to his wedding, infiltrating imperial bases, scouring the countryside for weapons that hadn't been seen in centuries—they were never bored, but they were never quite out of the woods either.

Based on the grimace Gladio wore, this time would be no different, and there was a pregnant pause before he hesitantly evaded, "Let's find somewhere to sit down first. It's kind of a long story."

Ignis surmised without hearing another word that to call that an understatement would have been inaccurate. There were no short stories when one was taken by the Astrals, whether it was Noct being drawn into the Crystal or Gladio's own experience. For now, however, there was nothing more he could do but nod his assent as Prompto once again led the charge towards the nearest haven. Given the state in which they had found him and the timing of his disappearance, Gladio seemed to require the chance to compose himself; Ignis was willing to cede that much for a greater reward later. Besides, it was impossible to deny that all three of them could benefit from a well-earned respite, which was exactly what Ignis had in mind when they approached Ausace Haven and caught a glimpse of what had been set up to greet them.

Nothing could have prepared them for the sight of their old camping gear, identical to the last venture it had accompanied them on, assembled and waiting like a shining city upon a hill. They hadn't used the equipment in years; what they had left in the car at the Taelpar rest area was a decent enough replacement but hardly its equivalent. They simply couldn't bring themselves to remove the superior products that were still sitting in the trunk of the Regalia, more an homage to their past than a functional piece of their present. Even so, Ignis recognized every bit of the utilities before them as if he'd just seen them yesterday: the tent that somehow fit all four of them with room to spare, the portable stove where he had concocted some of his finest culinary creations, the chairs where they had whiled away the hours playing games or purely relishing in each other's company. Of the lattermost, there were four rather than three, the Six apparently choosing not to remind them of their loss when it was so close to being found again. Ignis had to appreciate that, even if he nevertheless vacillated between disappointment at not having another friend to fill the seat and utter bewilderment as to how this was possible in the slightest. As far as he could tell, the Astrals were unlikely to have retrieved their gear from the actual Eos; that was a chore he doubted they would undergo for the Chosen King much less his friends. No, it had to be yet another recreation, albeit one that wasn't bathed in crystal. That in itself was a refreshing thought.

"Well, would you look at that?" murmured Gladio so quietly that Ignis nearly missed it. "Looks like our luck's changin' after all."

Wincing, Prompto warned him, "Don't say that too loud. They might hear you and make this all some big mirage or something."

"This ain't a desert."

"Tell that to my stomach. What're the odds there's food up there?"

Surprisingly, in their favor. Their gear wasn't all that had awaited them without their knowledge: the container at the edge of the camping stove was full of every possible combination of ingredients Ignis could think of, which was certainly saying something. There was fresh fish that could have been caught mere hours ago from the looks of it, vegetables that were ripe enough to have just been plucked from the earth, and more rice than a man could eat in a single day let alone one sitting.

And that wasn't all.

"It seems that Gladio was right," announced Ignis, gingerly removing a can of Ebony from the box and praying that it didn't vanish with the onset of his confidence. He'd gone too long without it already; that would simply break his spirit.

Prompto was of a similar mind, his brows furrowed in suspicion when he leaned around Ignis to wonder, "Think they'll be okay if we try to take them back with us?"

"One can only hope. Sadly, we won't be finding out."

"Uh, how come?"

Shaking his head, Ignis reluctantly set the heavenly beverage aside for later and answered, "It would hardly be appropriate to carry all this across the kingdom on our way to Noct."

"I'm with Iggy. Gonna be tough makin' it to the Citadel without extra baggage," called Gladio, already seated in his usual spot and sounding like he might fall asleep if they didn't do something to keep him awake.

Fortunately, Ignis had just the thing.

"Speaking of which," he began. Motioning for Prompto to join him, Ignis tore himself away from the bit of paradise on his cooking station and moved to the familiar canvas chair in which he had made some of his favorite memories. "Perhaps now would be an excellent time to discuss where we've been and where we're going."

While his own demeanor shifted, edging closer to the detached professionalism he had perfected during his long years of service to the crown, Prompto remained in high enough spirits to jeer, "Yup, give us all the deets, man. What was it like, getting a good old-fashioned butt-whooping from the Astrals?"

Yes, because that is the important part, Ignis internally scoffed.

Gladio surprisingly didn't remark on Prompto's flippant taunt. Actually, he didn't respond at all, his eyes closed and head resting against the back of his chair. If it weren't for the tension that returned the instant the Hexatheon was mentioned, Ignis would have believed that he had dozed off. That wouldn't have been such a bad thing either—drawn and pale from whatever encounter he'd had with the Six, it appeared that Gladio could have desperately used a nap of Noct's proportions.

Later, Ignis reasoned. The information was too important to postpone discussing.

A Shield, particularly one of Gladio's competence, couldn't fail to recognize the same necessity. It was only a few seconds before he heaved a sigh and straightened in his seat, his expression shuttered. When he opened his eyes, Ignis was hard-pressed to find anything that might offer insight into his thoughts, which was concerning to say the least. Although Gladio was by no means an open book, Ignis could generally sense his moods with but a glance. This time, there was nothing to be gleaned. Humor, grief, determination—all of it had been leached away, leaving an unspeakable distance in its wake.

Considering the contents of his anecdote, Ignis supposed they couldn't ask for more than that. The tale he spun, after all, was neither one of encouragement nor disappointment.

To have been accosted by the gods was a trial few had survived without some supernatural aid. For Noct, the power of his ancestors and Lady Lunafreya's assistance had been instrumental in securing his receipt of the Astrals' blessings; for Ardyn, a darker force had been at work. He and his magitek infantries had felled the gods on numerous occasions, even if the latter had returned time and time again. Ultimately, it seemed quite impossible that anyone of normal birth—namely, birth that didn't involve magic rings or fatal prophecies or daemonic indulgence—would manage to hold their own in the event that the Six chose to smite them down.

Gladio, for all that his stature indicated the opposite, was but a mere mortal. He was no different from Ignis and Prompto in many respects: fallible and, compared with the Astrals, fragile beyond description. Being placed in front of the Archaean in a battle for not only his own survival but Noct's as well was, to put it bluntly, utterly unthinkable.

Yet that was what had happened, all to test…something. His resolve or his strength of heart, but certainly not the measure of his physical prowess. If that was what they had in mind, they would have pitted him against a manageable foe, not a giant made of stone.

From the way Gladio explained the situation, however, it sounded as though the Six wanted to be assured of more than merely their capacity for defending Noct from bodily harm through sheer brute force. In that case, there was a method to their madness: their covenant to the kings of Lucis and the Oracles was protection and eternal life in exchange for their sacrifice, which meant they couldn't be willing to part with their servants without ensuring that their security would be provided for in Eos. It was an understandable consideration if a seemingly redundant one. The three of them had stood at Noct's side through thick and thin, taking the good and the bad as they came and weathering the storm together all the while. Perhaps it was presumptuous of him, but Ignis had been operating under the assumption that they had already proven themselves both worthy and willing to protect Noct from whatever sought to depose him, regardless of whether it fell within their typical operating parameters.

Wasn't that why there were three of them, not to mention the countless other retainers and guards the Citadel had to offer? Wasn't that why they had worked in tandem and developed the sort of synergy that had become second nature after all this time? That Gladio was a multifaceted individual capable of more than merely throttling potential threats within (or past) an inch of their lives was of no surprise to Ignis, yet in his opinion, there was no need for him to demonstrate it to anyone—not even the Six. Each of them boasted different strengths and weaknesses alike; they were humans, and although the Astrals might not remember, it was in their nature not to be good at everything. (Ignis, of course, had attempted to minimize his inadequacies to the best of his ability, but he was painfully aware of the fact that not all of his endeavors were as fruitful as he would have liked.) King Regis had recognized that they could not each in turn be all that Noct required from retainers and brothers alike, hence their threefold presence at his side. Honestly, it was the best possible approach.

When Noct needed advice and support in his decisions, Ignis was there.

When he needed the strength and will to carry on, Gladio was there.

When he needed to step away from his royal duties for a moment and just be Noct, Prompto was there.

Had he been present in that crater, Ignis would not have faltered as Gladio had done. He didn't mean to boast, which was why he kept quiet on the matter, but he was positive that he would have spotted the weakness inherent in their geography and recommended exploiting it right away. Without access to Noct's magic, there wouldn't have been any other options available to them. Making those sorts of assessments was what Ignis had been doing since he was a lad, hardly capable of tying his own shoes let alone guiding a prince towards the greatness he was destined for. It was admittedly his best quality, as far as he was concerned: he excelled at setting his personal feelings aside and examining the terrain, literally or metaphorically, almost to the point of overanalyzing.

That wasn't a Shield's duty.

While Gladio relayed his account, describing in suspiciously sparse detail how he had attempted to engage the Archaean in combat before realizing what he was ultimately meant to do, all Ignis could dwell on was that his trial hadn't been a test meant for a Shield. The loyal protectors of the kings of Lucis were precisely what their titles dictated: barriers against physical and emotional harm whenever possible. Gladio had always embodied that description, even if his more abrasive tendencies occasionally had him standing in his own way. That was neither here nor there, though. The point was that Gladio didn't need to strategize when Ignis was there to do so for them. In a fair trial, one in which they were together rather than divided and disoriented by their dilemma, the Six would have seen that.

But we won't always be together, Ignis reminded himself solemnly. If the gods don't separate us, then time will.

That, unfortunately, was the natural order of things. No matter how many years it took, they would eventually be parted from each other. Unlike the Astrals, who had to be as intimately aware of their mortality as they were, the three of them would not live forever. If they left Noct where he was, then it wouldn't matter: he would be defended for the rest of eternity—the Hexatheon would be on his side. Indeed, was that really so terrible? They had already isolated him in a place of relative peace. There were no more monsters, no daemons, no threats whatsoever besides boredom. A lack of mortal intruders meant that Noct could remain here indefinitely, unbothered by the outside world, whereas the Eos they sought to return him to was fraught with inconveniences if not outright dangers. They had come here to deliver him back to reality, a reality where his immortality would be stripped away and he would have to die again someday. It would be a more difficult road; Noct would have weighty responsibilities as king. That tantalizing gift of infinity, crystal casket notwithstanding, would be a thing of the past. It was a trade that Ignis thought few would consider equal—eternal peace for finite struggle.

It was no wonder, then, that the Six were testing them in such an unexpected and seemingly unfair manner. All they had to offer—all they could swear to their liege in return for his presence—was that they would be beside him, but for how long was not up to them. No, they would not live forever; it could very well be the case that a day would come when they perished while Noct lived on without them. There would, of course, be others that they could train to take their places. Retainers came and went, their service defining them more than their personalities in many ways. While those jobs still fell to them, however, they had to prove that they were capable of fulfilling them. If something happened to Ignis, then it would be Prompto and Gladio who were required to take the reins in his absence. There would be no looking to him for answers or inquiring after his opinion. He would be gone, and they would carry on without him.

With that thought in mind, Ignis merely nodded sympathetically when Gladio muttered, "It took me a while, but I figured it out. They can't complain about this Shield not doing his duty."

"Not when you basically dropped a mountain on the bigger big guy," Prompto pointed out, his voice thick with both awe and a touch of humor at the idea.

"It wasn't like we were gettin' outta there any other way."

"The ultimate combination of strength and strategy, I should say," agreed Ignis.

"Guess I've still got a few tricks up my sleeves."

"Unless we're very much mistaken, so do the Astrals."

Ignis hated to sully the mood, yet his brittle reminder stopped them in their self-congratulatory tracks before they could venture too far off course nonetheless. Praising Gladio for his triumph over the task he had been set couldn't distract them from the gravity of their situation, however tempting it was when they were comfortable and safe for the time being. The food waiting to be cooked and the tent waiting for them to retire inside didn't erase the path ahead of them; if anything, they made it all the more intimidating. Barreling into the unknown had always presented certain challenges, and this was by far the greatest they'd come across since they had been too young to truly understand the meaning of the word. Gladio's trial had been suited to his greatest struggle: how would he protect Noct if physical strength was of no use? It was a question the Six clearly wanted an answer to, one that they had both gotten and accepted from the sounds of the Glacian's blessing.

What questions could they wish to ask of himself and Prompto? They were both at least proficient in utilizing mind over matter—Ignis had no other choice, and Prompto had demonstrated his ability purely by surviving Niflheim on his own. Their assessments therefore had to be something different, something that he couldn't even begin to predict. All he could be sure of was that the same divine logic would apply to them. Whatever the Astrals wanted them to prove before they were allowed to see Noct wouldn't be simple, nor could they possibly prepare for it in advance.

They wouldn't turn back, though. They were close, so close to retaking everything they had lost. He wasn't going to leave Noct here, not while the possibility remained that they would see a day when they were together once more. Perhaps it would be around another campfire, reacquainting themselves with their ancient equipment in memory of who they used to be and celebration of who they had become. Well, maybe that was a bit too optimistic on his part. More realistically, they would merely encounter new adventures within the walls of the Citadel, embarking on them in partnership and providing each other with the fortitude they had been lacking for a year now. Either way, what happened when they returned to Insomnia didn't matter—he had sworn an oath regardless. If Noct was alive, then that oath was still applicable. Gods, as formidable as they were, could not stop him. Fear had no place here.

That was why he didn't allow it to overwhelm him in spite of the apprehension gnawing at his insides. There was nothing he could do to alter what was inevitably approaching; dreading it would render him vulnerable in the moment. For now, he could merely watch and wait.

And cook, because if the Astrals were going to present them with an opportunity to rest and refuel, then he wasn't going to let it pass unobserved.

As it happened, their previous concerns turned out to be rather misinformed. Where they had been admonishing the gods in the latter's absence for not considering the needs of the average human, the Six had apparently done more than merely take their dietary requirements into account. They had all they could desire for quality meals that would not only feed them for a week at the very least, but which would put Noct's standard fare to shame. (The fare he had insisted on ingesting when he was younger, in any case. It was with a pang of sorrow that Ignis remembered he had, in fact, eaten all his vegetables before the end.) Yesterday, Ignis would have cautiously portioned each ingredient so that they would last in the event that there was a future shortage. He would have planned his recipes well in advance so that one dinner sufficed for multiple nights without wasting what he didn't have to.

Today, he saw no point in sparing their provisions, so he put the admittedly excessive pantry and his familiar stove to good use with the sort of reckless abandon he hadn't exercised in years. Even with Gladio's story echoing in his head, warning of what was to come, it was almost as pleasant as the old days.

Almost, but not quite.

There was something oddly disquieting about the situation when he remembered their predicament, even though it seemed so distant as he flipped the tide grouper fillets and watched them sizzle in the pan. Sipping an Ebony, listening to Prompto and Gladio wearily trade witticisms… It was so easy to believe that they were young men on their first journey away from home or that Noct was simply fishing nearby. The idea that home was under reconstruction, that what was bountiful here wasn't so plentiful there, and that the fruits of the sea were safe from his brother's enthusiasm felt much further away than it had hours ago.

It was nigh intoxicating, and Ignis forced himself not to grow accustomed to their new surroundings as he finished plating their meals and settled next to the others for their first camp-prepared dinner since they had said goodbye to Noct. The Ebony, while pleasant and sorely missed, would run dry; the food would be left behind. Rationing would become their way of life again. Like the Blademaster had told them, they would have only what they could carry, which made the Astrals' gifts fleeting at best. Their attachment was to Noct, not to trivial material goods. Ultimately, it would be better for everyone to remain focused and resist the enticement of indulging overmuch—even if he did plan to bring just a can or two along. Energy would be important on the road ahead, so it could hardly be considered a luxury.

Not like all the rest.

"Man, why can't it always be like this?" groaned Prompto once the dishes had been cleared and more of their provisions consumed than Ignis would have thought possible. After years of uncomfortable awareness with regards to how long their consignments would stave off their hunger, it was a pleasant change to expend little attention on their appetites.

Even Gladio, who had practically fallen over with lassitude when they'd arrived, perked up somewhat. His smirk was more genuine when he retorted, "If it were, we'd all need a workout. My compliments to the chef," he added, raising his cup in Ignis's direction.

"Come now, it's nothing special," he sniffed, although he couldn't deny that the compliment was encouraging. Even here, even now, he hadn't lost his touch. That would come in handy, especially if they had to venture back to the gateway with Noct—and, presumably, Lady Lunafreya—in tow.

"Best meal we've had in a while," Gladio argued. Prompto nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Totally. Noct would be so jealous if he knew we were out here getting the good stuff while he's stuck…wherever."

That had Ignis rolling his eyes as he deposited the last of the dishes on his workstation. "He'll have plenty of opportunities to sample more delectable cuisines than I am capable of scrounging up."

"Oh, yeah?" snorted Gladio. "You hiding an army of kitchen staff somewhere?"

"No, but it is merely a matter of training. I suspect the lines to serve the king of Lucis will stretch throughout the city when Noct returns."

Prompto's grin was mischievous, reminiscent of days past when he nearly cackled, "I can see it now. He's gonna be so embarrassed."

"Guess we'll have to help him escape every now and again, just to make sure His Majesty doesn't permanently turn red." It sounded like a joke, but Gladio certainly had a point. Noct's nature had always been more reserved, particularly after his injury; having anyone besides the three of them waiting on him had tended to fluster more than flatter him.

Even so, Ignis felt it was his responsibility to advise, "Perhaps on occasion, but it won't all be fun and games. If we overcome the rest of the Astrals' trials and bring him home, he will have a kingdom to run, not to mention the fact that he will be married as well."

"Aaaaaaand there goes the fun," sighed Prompto, his lightheartedness not quite covering a flash of something that Ignis had spotted in his eyes before. It wasn't jealousy—he doubted that there was a jealous bone in Prompto's body where Noct was concerned. The former didn't have the mentality for the latter's position and was well suited to his place behind the proverbial curtain. Still, it wasn't normal, and Ignis logged it away for further examination.

If Gladio noticed, then he apparently chose to do the same, because he ignored Prompto entirely to inquire, "You think the Six are gonna let us take the Oracle too?"

"I doubt they would have much choice in the matter," observed Ignis, shrugging a shoulder. "These trials seem designed to test our ability to do for Noct what they intended as reward for this Focus business. That being the case, I don't believe they would force him to live without his bride."

"Plus, Gentiana was always Lady Lunafreya's number one fan, right?" added Prompto, to which Ignis hummed in approval.

"Indeed. The two of them were fast friends beyond the connection of mere god and vassal. At least, that was my understanding."

"So, she'll definitely let us take her back too! She wouldn't make her stay here without Noct."

"Yeah, talk about lonely," murmured Gladio, immediately amending, "if she can sense that kinda thing."

"I should think it is quite likely. After all…"

Ignis trailed off, unsure of how he wanted to phrase his assumptions. Admittedly, they were fairly rudimentary: he hadn't begun to entertain the notion until the Glacian had imparted her message to them, and even then, it hadn't seemed realistic. Flights of fancy seldom were.

Then again, was there anything more fanciful than a crystalline world of eternal dawn?

"What's up, Iggy?"

Gladio's voice shook him from his musings, and Ignis glanced up to see both him and Prompto watching him curiously. Ordinarily, Ignis would have said that it wasn't important; looking as ridiculous as he felt about the subject wasn't something he openly invited. But these were his friends—they were the only ones who would comprehend his speculations and, unless he was further off base than he thought, perhaps even concur.

Ignis therefore cleared the hesitation from his throat and continued, "I…can't help wondering whether those dreams where Noct was there… On many occasions, it was as though I could sense his presence for hours afterward."

Just as he'd hoped, Prompto nodded right away. "Same here."

"Yeah, me too," Gladio chimed in, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Kept feelin' like he was standing right behind me."

Ah. So that, too, was no mere coincidence.

Was anything anymore?

"I experienced the same. There's no way of knowing without more information about Noct's condition"—or the alleged blessing of the gods, debatable as that was—"but I would wager that he has been reaching out to us somehow."

"You mean, like, reading our minds," guessed Prompto with narrowed eyes and a puzzled frown. Ignis should have predicted that he would attribute this to some comic book-fueled drivel or other. At this point, he couldn't even say that he was entirely mistaken.

"Not quite, but I suppose it would be similar in nature," evaded Ignis, his frustration with their lack of insight piquing. "Whatever it is, and whatever it means, it does appear to indicate that Noct is at least distantly conscious of what is happening."

"And decided to pay us a visit way before Gentiana did," surmised Gladio.

Ignis nodded pensively, qualifying, "This is all conjecture, but it seems as logical as anything else."

"Which isn't much," Prompto murmured.

"Admittedly, no."

Gladio grunted noncommittally, his expression twisted as he ventured, "I mean, I guess it could happen. It would take some pretty powerful magic to get that to work, though."

Sighing, Ignis reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose against the oncoming headache this subject always left him with. "Magic that he would no longer have any access to."

"And that ain't mentioning how he'd cross between realms. Who knows if it's possible for anybody but the Six?"

"Plus their faithful servants at the border."

"Yeah, them too. I don't think a giant hunk of crystal's gonna have much luck getting through that."

"Unless he had another way to talk to us."

Ignis paused, his mouth open to deliver a response he hadn't yet constructed, and looked to Prompto. It was Gladio, however, who asked, "Meaning?"

The thoughtful expression on Prompto's face as he reached beneath the collar of his shirt was equal parts uncertain and hopeful, a peculiarly similar sentiment to the one that had Ignis's heart beating faster when the former pulled his shard of Crystal out from where it had been hidden. None of them had second-guessed the souvenirs their hosts had left behind when they'd taken everything else; besides their memories, it was all they had of Noct, and that in itself made them precious beyond words. Why there had only been three, why they were the sole pieces large enough to be removed from the throne room, why they were hot to the touch in the aftermath of nightmares they hadn't realized were more than they appeared—none of that had given them pause. The Astrals had mysterious methods, and Ignis wasn't going to look a gift chocobo in the mouth if they could glean any solace from doing the opposite.

Perhaps he should have pried its beak open instead.

"We've all got one, and we've all been having those weird dreams," Prompto mused with a smile that lacked the skepticism of his shrug. "Noct's in crystal too, sooooo…"

It made sense the same way an airship remained aloft or the Meteor had retained the heat they required to power Lestallum—without explanation yet simultaneously not requiring any. The connections were there, albeit with numerous holes they couldn't hope to fill in, and they were more intelligible than any other reason they had considered thus far. As a result, Ignis wasn't going to question it for once. The answer didn't matter so long as the Hexatheon didn't plan on descending to confirm or refute their suppositions.

"That does appear to be what ties it all together," he agreed nevertheless. "The Crystal and those bound by it share that common element. Even as a simple mineral, it possesses extraordinary elements that our scientists have been examining for centuries. Doubtless there are facets that we cannot possibly imagine, especially with the Six involved."

Scoffing, Gladio mumbled wearily, "Well, maybe they could use some other mineral. Gotta admit, I'm getting kinda tired of this one."

"Ugh, same. It's pretty and all, but sheesh, I'd pay serious gil to change it up a little," sighed Prompto.

Ignis hummed, although he avoided agreeing outright. The beauty of the view didn't detract from the reality that they couldn't truly touch anything in this world. That much was a constant wherever they roamed: the stone and runes of the haven were buried inches deep in the crystal, in sight yet out of reach. It was all like that, and while the sun shimmering off its surface was pleasant to behold, its initial appeal had long since worn off. In its place was a sort of distant utopia that was both idealistic and disdainful in its overt insinuation that it wasn't meant for them. As he stared out over it—the vast plains and mountains they were never supposed to see—Ignis wondered if even the gods could be entirely happy here.

But that wasn't any of his business, nor was it his place to besmirch the land the Astrals had created in part as a reward for their loyal servants.

Detaching his own feelings from the situation, Ignis therefore chided, "If Prompto is right, then it would be wise not to complain. After all, it may very well work to our advantage."

"Not so sure on that one," countered Gladio without heat. He sounded more disappointed than anything else when he observed, "Dunno about you guys, but it hasn't felt like Noct's been around since we got here."

"We also haven't slept since we got here," Ignis pointed out, although it sounded like a thin excuse to his own ears. Prompto, luckily, was willing to overlook it in light of their present circumstances; his gaze was almost awkwardly longing when he peered significantly towards the tent.

"Probably something we should fix, right? It's gonna be a while before we get to the Citadel…"

"And we still don't know what we'll find along the way," Gladio finished for him. For his part, his affirmation didn't seem feigned in the slightest: he was already on his feet, stretching his arms over his head in a manner that clearly indicated he had been mentally prepared to sleep for some time.

Ignis, on the other hand, wasn't so fortunate. In hindsight, it had been optimistic to the point of foolishness to believe that he could regain his sight with no unpleasant consequences. He had been blind for eleven years—longer, if he wished to count the months. The habits he'd formed weren't going to vanish purely because he could see again, whether it was his now innate reliance on noise or his inability to sleep when it wasn't dark around him.

While the absence of the former had been unsettling, the latter was positively maddening.

Maybe that would be his trial: completing their pilgrimage without a wink of sleep as it increasingly seemed that he would have to. The sun didn't rise and set in the Astrals' world, as far as he could tell. It had remained stationary throughout their journey, from Secullam Pass straight to the haven. Not once had it shifted in the sky, the shadows unnaturally static and unbroken by any movement besides their own. There was no reason for darkness to hold sway in what was designed to be paradise, though; night had no business here, just as they didn't to a certain extent. As such, the problem wasn't with the environment so much as it was with Ignis.

Like it or not, he was used to living in darkness, be it in his waking hours or his sleep. Yes, he could see in his dreams, but there was something different about that. No matter how compelling or absorbing the vision, he always knew that it wasn't real, that he would wake to the same dull blankness that had been his world for over a decade. By now, anything else would have been an abnormality, and he had grown content with the idea that that was all he had to look forward to. There was a measure of peace that accompanied resigning oneself to their fate—that was a lesson he had learned from Noct, in a sense. Despite his duty, he'd had every reason to rail against the destiny that awaited him. Death at the hands of the former kings and the gods so that he might ignite a dawn he would never see? It was more than most people could stand to think about let alone endure, yet Noct had done so with the grace of a monarch. It was inspiring, and Ignis had done everything in his power to live by Noct's example.

So, he didn't fret over the eye that itched with exhaustion or the muscles that cramped with fatigue. He didn't attempt to lie down when the others pressed him, insisting that their relative safety didn't excuse them from keeping watch on the surround. He could utilize the time to plan their next move anyway. Now that they could partially predict the dangers they would encounter before they reached the Citadel, the game had changed. Sleep wasn't anywhere near as important as devising a strategy that would err on the side of caution while not marking them as cowards either.

That, of course, was his first mistake.


A/N: This chapter was initially meant to be the next trial, but this part ended up longer than I had anticipated. That being said, I've decided to split it into two so that the second part will be done justice, making this story tentatively 12 chapters instead of 11. That next part will be posted not next Saturday but the following one, April 28th. I'm so, so, so sorry for the delay, but I won't be able to post next weekend and wanted to make sure you guys are aware in advance. (And I'm super sorry that I have to leave you on a cliffhanger until then!)

On another note, thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and to those of you who have left feedback! It means so much to me, you have no idea! :D Again, I'm SO sorry for not being able to post next weekend, but I'll see you guys on the 28th with that chapter as early as physically (and editing-wise) possible!