Water Under the Bridge
Tampered Evidence

"Get down!"

"They're too strong!"

"Biggs, throw me a potion!"

"Lady A, we're all out!"

"Iris, where are you going?"

"Shit!"

"Someone help!"

"What the fuck is happening?"

"Where's my backup?"

"SOMEONE HELP!"

A week and a few days later, Ignis and Talcott found themselves within the Steyliff Grove dungeon. Talcott was all too eager to take Ignis up on his offer to explore the dungeon, practically begging to leave as soon as possible. Over the last several years, he had grown into a confident and bright young man. He was never going to be the daemon hunter that everyone else was, but he'd come into his own in his own way, branching off toward machinery, history, and the quieter subjects that no one else seemed to want to bother with these days.

As a result, Talcott was a great partner to bring along on this journey. Not only was he quick on the uptake and still somewhat strong enough to hold his own in battle, he never once left Ignis' side throughout their descent into the depths of the dungeon. Although Ignis had made the decision to bring his cane for the trip, Talcott still assisted him when necessary over the ruins.

"Watch your step, sir; it's rocky here," Talcott cautioned respectfully, taking Ignis under the elbow as he guided the man across some pillars and boulders under the glow of the mysterious water above them. At the bottom of the dungeon, despite the darkness of the world outside, there was still an aura of light that glowed around them, as if the sun had never been hidden by angry clouds.

Once over the wreckage, Ignis nodded his head in silent thanks and they stood in the middle of the vast room. Talcott stared straight up into the aquamarine pool and marveled at the sight. "This is incredible," he awed in amazement, sending a ping of jealousy through Ignis.

Incredible indeed. It was the dungeon, difficult and harrowing as it were, that housed one of the more beautiful sights Ignis had ever encountered in his entire life. Now, trapped behind scar tissue and emptiness, he yearned to see what Talcott was seeing, but even his memory of the place had gone hazy, dulled by the passing of years to the recesses of his mind.

Once the initial shock of the spectacle had worn off, Talcott surveyed the area around them with his hands on his hips. Neither one knew where to begin. This wasn't a library or a school classroom; books and tomes weren't readily available for the taking out in the open. They'd have to really look for them. And, after fighting off the random daemon here and there on the way down, Talcott had nearly forgotten why they were there in the first place.

Ignis realized how overwhelming the task at hand must be for someone like Talcott, still so unaccustomed to assignments of this magnitude, so he rested a reassuring gloved hand on his shoulder. It was then that Ignis realized just how much the boy had grown and how much he missed out on because of his injury.

Talcott's shoulder was no longer bony and tiny under his hand, but broad and muscular. Come to think of it, he'd never realized how much the young boy had grown in height as he was now almost as tall as he was.

How much had Ignis missed out on since Altissia? Over the years, he'd learned to accept that he'd never read, write, or drive again and he adjusted his fighting and cooking skills to adapt to life without sight. But little things like not being able to see this kid grow up, missing out on the beautiful spectacle of light and water above them, and being unable to help with this research all threatened to bring Ignis back into that dark and twisted place that he fought so long to get out of.

Aranea's voice chastised him in his head, telling him to buck up and think of how far he'd come, instead of wallowing over what he was missing out on. Then she'd grumble and complain about how dreary and depressing everything was, how lucky he should feel that he was missing it. She said stuff like that as a joke and sometimes they'd both laugh about it, but deep down there was truth to it.

This was no time to throw a pity party or to fall into another state of depression. He shook his head and forced a smile, knowing they were here for a reason. "Shall we proceed? We have a lot of ground to cover, and, unfortunately, not enough time to cover it in."

Talcott nodded eagerly, his eyes wide and sparkling with excitement. "Oh, yes sir! Where should we begin?" He took a step or two away, shielding his eyes from the strange light source above them. "I'm . . . not sure there's anything here in this room. It just looks like a bunch of crumbled marble columns and," he kicked at the ground under them, "a lot of sand."

Ignis brought a finger to his chin in thought. He closed his eye, reaching into the crevasses of his memories of the dungeon for something—anything—to help them figure out where to begin. He didn't remember there being anything of noticeable interest, but maybe there was another area of the dungeon that they'd not uncovered on their last visit.

After all, the dungeon was massive, not to mention hundreds of years old.

It was worth a shot to look around. "Talcott, by any chance, do you happen to see another room or alcove of some sort that could possibly lead elsewhere? Something else that would house what it is we're looking for?"

On his request, he felt Talcott slip away, his footsteps tracing the perimeter of the grand chamber. He would take a few steps, crunching over sand and rocks, and then stop. Take a few more paces, and then the sound of his hands feeling the walls could be heard. This went on for several minutes, as Ignis understood that pacing the outer area of the room was no small feat. Still, the man was growing impatient and he unintentionally sighed just soft enough as to not alert the teenager of his exasperation. It wasn't like him to get this antsy, but Ignis was just too eager to let the real fun begin—though he would use that term loosely.

He didn't have to wait much longer for Talcott to make a discovery as he heard a jubilant cheer. "Sir! I found something! A hole in the wall that we can crawl through!" There was a click of a handheld flashlight, brought along on the off chance that the lights on their clothing weren't enough, and Talcott laughed. "You won't believe what I'm seeing!"

With his cane, Ignis— swift, but still careful—approached Talcott from behind and stopped just short of where he was standing. He sensed that Talcott had turned around to face him when felt the light of his flashlight flare across his face. Ignis flinched. It was still an odd sensation to feel and make out some sources of light, one that he would never get used to. "What is it?" Ignis asked, taking a few steps back.

"I think it's better if I show you." The grin on Talcott's face could be heard by the tone of his voice. Willingly, Ignis allowed himself to be pulled from the massive atrium into the smaller room, forced to duck under the tiny, crumbling archway of the hole in the wall. The room they staggered into was just tall enough that both men could comfortably stand up, but Talcott warned him that there was hardly any ceiling room above them beyond that. Everything smelled damp and there was a slight chill here that wasn't in the foyer they were just in. Somewhere in the corner, a dripping noise persisted. The room just felt claustrophobic and dark.

Ignis waited for Talcott to explain what it was that he found so fascinating, but Talcott stalked the short distance to the other side of the room. The burn of irritation bubbled in Ignis' chest and he gripped his cane a little too tight. "I appreciate the discovery of this space, Talcott, but what is it that you're dying to show me? As I mentioned beforehand, we are running on a limited amount of time and resources."

Talcott laughed again, the same joyful laugh he'd expressed upon finding the new chamber, and knelt down. The sound of the crack of a book being opened for the first time in decades—no, centuries—echoed in the space. He stood back up and placed the book in Ignis' free hand. "I've never seen so many old books and scrolls in my life. The entire room has stacks of old texts for us to go through! I . . . sir, I don't know how we'll be able to go through all of them. There has to be hundreds!"

Ignis held the weighty hardcover in his hand while placing his cane against the wall behind him. With his other hand free, he traced his fingers over the imprinted title on the cover. With one eyebrow raised, he looked in Talcott's direction with immense skepticism. "Yes, but how many are relevant to our objective? Call me a cynic, but it would be far too easy for our answers to be at our disposal in one measly room within one dungeon, especially when there are plenty of other Royal Tombs and dungeons for us to get through, if necessary."

Talcott's posture deflated at this and he brought his flashlight up to browse the titles of the other manuscripts. Encyclopedias on the history of Solheim, books on science and math, volumes and volumes of pictures and sheet music—everything. There was literally a book on any subject anyone could think of. However, Ignis was right; information on historical personas and standing figureheads were scarce.

Talcott grabbed another book and opened it, the cover and spine missing a title or something to distinguish it. Black and white photos dotted pages here and there with pictures of cartoonish people looking deathly ill—some with black markings all over their skin, some without. As Talcott tried to read the captions of the pictures and the large wall of text around the photos, he paused.

"This is weird," he murmured, his eyebrows furrowing. "I can kind of understand what this is saying, but it's a different language. I mean, it's definitely English, but it's mixed with something else. I can't explain it. I don't know . . . like this sentence . . ." Talcott launched into reading a paragraph, alternating between broken English and whatever the other language was. At first, Ignis was unable to place the syntax, the wording and verbiage unclear. Yet, the more Talcott muscled through the paragraph, the more the words started to come together in Ignis' mind.

"Old Lucian," Ignis stated with conviction at the end of Talcott's reading. The teenage tilted his head and Ignis motioned with one hand toward the book, explaining further. "As a requirement to serve the royal family, we had to learn the evolution of the language. Long days and even longer nights meant excelling in the fluency of various languages; most importantly, Old Lucian. Unfortunately for us, it has been a long while since I've had to read or translate any texts from Old Lucian to modern English, but I'd be hard pressed to believe that I've been unable to retain something like that." He sighed and pushed his tinted glasses up higher on his nose with a middle and pointer finger, sitting down on the ground with his back against the wall. "How about we get comfortable and begin?"

Talcott concurred and they relaxed into their respective corners, not much legroom between them in the small room. The minutes turned to hours—several long and drawn out hours—as Talcott would, hesitantly, read off important passages to Ignis who would, in turn, translate it back to Talcott. Then, Talcott would hastily write all sorts of notes and annotations in a notebook they'd brought with them, pausing only to shake the ever-persistent cramps from his hand as he tried to keep up with Ignis. Once, Talcott made a joke about bringing a typewriter or laptop next time and Ignis snickered at the comment.

If only life were that easy anymore.

After quite a few pages of notes had been taken, Ignis leaned back and closed his eye in thought. Talcott reread what they had so far, not having paid attention to any of what he'd been writing down until this moment. He knew the text they were translating had mostly to do with the Starscourge, but no mention of any Niflheim Chancellors or any positions within the regime. Still, the mention and detailed description of the Scourge was rather interesting, so they kept on with it.

Talcott massaged the sharp pain of the cramp from his hand. He was having fun with the Royal Advisor, but he'd be lying if he said it was as easy as he thought it would be. Working alongside Ignis was no cakewalk, but Talcott continued to grin and bear it. "So let me get this straight; from what we have so far, it appears that the Scourge is what is causing the disappearance of Eos' population."

"Right," Ignis affirmed. "With the death of the Oracle, and no one to save those afflicted with the Scourge, we now have an increase in daemons to fight due to the human population turning into said daemons."

"Huh. And here I thought that daemons were just ugly, vicious animals," Talcott snorted, flipping a page and then another. He squinted at his messy handwriting, barely legible from the speed at which he wrote, "And when you guys take out a daemon . . ."

"It means more photosynthetic organisms released into the air and darker nights for the foreseeable future," Ignis finished, leaning his head back against the cold stone wall behind him. He felt a tightness grip his chest as he came to this conclusion, but was it really all that surprising? Cor did say that the Prophecy spoke of light returning upon the Chosen King's return, but when would that be? How much longer would they all remain in total darkness?

"I still can't believe that it was Ifrit that brought forth the Scourge and started the Great War of Old. It's all so . . . so . . ."

"Damning?" Ignis pitched in almost sarcastically.

Talcott let out a small laugh at that, nodding as he did. "For lack of better words, I guess so. And sad? I mean, to be so full of hatred that you want to end all of mankind? What a miserable existence."

"Indeed. At least we have the Astral, Bahamut, and the rest of the Six to thank for their generosity in giving us the Crystal. Though, it has done little to help us as of late," the advisor ruminated, still trying to understand the Starscourge and how that affected the world as a whole. Up until now, Ignis had a feeling—a hunch—that the plague had something to do with the darkness, but he never imagined it would lead to a darkness of this magnitude. It was all starting to make sense: the death of Lady Lunafreya, the lengthening of nights, the dwindling population (but he previously attributed that to the Survival of the Fittest theory, not the Scourge). He tilted his head and faced Talcott's general vicinity. "What else have we to go over in that text?"

The teenager hummed a tune under his breath as he flipped back and forth from his notes to the texts, to a random parchment of paper found inside one of the other texts. "Nothing really. Just the same stuff we've been rehashing for the last several hours now. Daemons, Starscourge, blah, blah, blah. Oh, wait," he lingered on a page, his finger just under a particular passage. "Here's something we missed, though I don't know how. Ha, we must be more tired than we realize. Anyway! There's something about a guy . . . I think, if I'm reading it right, it's some guy with the last name Izunia— "

It all happened so fast. Suddenly, Ignis was scrambling forward, not allowing Talcott to finish his sentence or what it was that he found. Ignis was barely able to stop himself from grabbing the text from Talcott's hand, his lack of sight an afterthought in that moment. Instead, he frantically pointed. "Who? Is there a first name? What does it say about Izunia?"

Talcott stuttered over his words, his heart racing at the commotion that Ignis was causing. This was an important name, it seemed. He didn't want to say or do anything to disappoint the older man, but he was completely flustered and had lost his place in the book. When he recovered where he left off, his eyes quickly scanned over the paragraphs to gain more insight into this man. "Err . . . ahhh . . . looks like the first name was Proditious. He was a king long ago, maybe second after the original Chosen King? It says that Proditious was—Hey!"

Ignis stood up, the urge to move far too great for him to remain seated. He paced back and forth, eight or nine steps from one wall to the next, depending on how big his stride was. Talcott pulled some of the papers and books from Ignis' reckless path as he watched with worry and confusion, unsure of where this outburst came from.

Yes, the name Izunia sounded familiar to him. Talcott knew the name was important, but it had been so long since he'd been in school that historical figures and political heads were nothing more than distant and faded people to him—nearly imaginary. It sounded awful, but when the world is on the edge of collapse, sometimes survival overtook the need for education.

Luckily, Ignis had a hunch that Talcott was struggling to keep up and he stopped, mid-pacing, to turn his head down to where he assumed the teen was sitting. "The Niflheim Chancellor's last name was—is—Izunia. An unusual last name, Izunia, wouldn't you say?"

"No . . . I . . . I guess not. Not a name I hear often," Talcott agreed with a hesitant nod.

"Not a name you hear, ever. Please, if you would, read to me what it says about this 'Proditious Izunia' gentleman," he requested. "Maybe there's a relation to his name and Ardyn's name?"

More pages were flipped and Talcott found the passage about Proditious Izunia. "Ok . . . well . . . heh, luckily this is more in a language I can understand. Alright, let's see what it says. Hmmm . . . ok, so Proditious was a ruling king after the Starscourge was brought about. Something here about not being the original Chosen King . . . " He faded off and scowled. "Dammit, I can't make this out."

Ignis took a spot beside Talcott, leaning over the texts, more because doing so felt right as opposed to actually seeing or reading any of it. "Take your time. Just sound out the words and I'll translate like we've been doing."

"No, that's not it," Talcott said, pursing his lips. Ignis was curious at the point, wondering what else it could be that had Talcott in such a tizzy. The teen brought the book closer to his face and then he grunted. He grabbed another book behind him and a slow franticness overtook his actions. "No, no, no! This . . . Sir, the pages after this for the Izunia lineage are gone. There's nothing here! The words on this page are scratched out and after that, entire pages are missing."

"What do you mean?" Ignis balked. "There must be something there. We've been here for hours and you said the room is full of texts and scrolls."

Talcott rushed to his feet, running a single finger along the stacked books while reading the titles on the spines. If there were no titles, he'd pull the book out and quickly scan the pages to see if there was anything relating to what they needed. It seemed that their luck had run out. The books left in the room were about everything else except the Izunia lineage. Not one mention of Ardyn or any variation of Ardyn, Izunia, or the new Proditious Izunia. Nothing.

"I'm . . . I'm sorry. It's obvious that those passages were tampered with. If there is anything else, it's not here for us to see. Maybe the other dungeons have more for us?"

Even though Talcott was trying his hardest to remain optimistic, Ignis still felt let down. Of course, he hadn't expected to stumble on anything so soon into their trip, and the fact that they found anything at all was remarkable. Still, knowing they were so close to learning more about the Izunia surname and, yet, still so far left a bad taste in Ignis' mouth. He couldn't help but let the disappointment wash over him, the aggravation evident on his face.

"Let's take some of these books back with us. Who knows? Maybe with a good night's sleep, we can find something worthwhile that we're missing?" Talcott suggested, gathering the books that held the most information for them. They were more than a handful, but he tried to juggle them carefully, not wanting to ask Ignis for help, but Ignis was incredibly sharp and perceptive. He held a hand out and motioned for Talcott to hand over at least one or two of the tomes, to which Talcott finally relented.

Whether it was from lack of sleep lately, the intense studying of the books and information, or a combination of the two, both men were worn out and ready to go home. It had been such a long couple of days that everything seemed to blur together into one endless chain of events.

It felt like it took longer to leave the dungeon than it did to get down to the bottom. Going up was a lot harder for Ignis as he had to blindly navigate up the stairs with his hands full of heavy books and random scrolls, but he was proud of the fact that he wasn't tripping or falling over anything. If Talcott stayed just a few steps ahead, he could hone in on the sounds of his footfalls and follow close behind.

Once out and across the murky grove, through the shin-deep waters, they breathed a sigh of relief when they realized that no daemons decided to roam the area. As they approached the truck, parked on a dirt path just above the grove, Talcott's phone vibrated angrily in his pocket. "Hmmm, reception must have been bad in the dungeon," he mused, pulling the phone from his pocket while Ignis crossed around the front of the truck to the passenger side door. He pulled himself up into the seat, slamming the door and buckling his seatbelt. However, Talcott could be heard talking a short distance away—no doubt with the text message sender.

Ignis tried to eavesdrop but was unable to catch anything meaningful. He was able to discern that, whatever the topic was, it seemed incredibly urgent. Patiently, he sat with his hands in his lap, eye faced forward. Then, with urgency, Talcott threw his door open and jumped in the truck, fumbling to get the keys into the ignition. The engine roared as he finally managed to get the key turned, spinning the wheel as tight to the right as he could and speeding off down the road.

The inertia forced Ignis back into his seat, his knuckles white as he gripped the door handle. "Talcott! What on Eos has gotten into you?" A hard left and Ignis was hurled into the window. He rubbed his temple where it had made contact with the window, a bruise sure to form in the coming hours.

"We have to get back to Lestallum right now."

"Yes, I gathered as much. That doesn't explain why we—"

"Prompto has been trying all day to get a hold of me," Talcott said, the truck careening down the road, the daemons a blur as they passed. "Aranea, Iris, and the rest of the team are back."

Ignis' ears perked up and he whipped his head so he was facing Talcott. "Something happened," he inferred, their reckless speed and sharp turns to get home a major giveaway.

Talcott nodded, but Ignis didn't know. "Someone got hurt, but Prompto didn't get to tell me who. I told him we'd be home right away."

No, no, no, Ignis repeated in his mind. His stomach went ice cold and his heart fell somewhere around his feet. Talcott kept rambling, no doubt to keep the nerves at bay, but Ignis heard none of it. Everything sounded fuzzy and distant and he felt like he'd left his body. It hurt to breathe.

Someone was hurt.

Someone was hurt and Talcott was racing to get back to Lestallum because it wasn't some superficial injury. It was serious.

It was the longest trip of Ignis' entire life.

Gods, please let Aranea be ok.

Author's Note: Hello! What a long and crazy business trip, but I'm back! Thank you everyone who reached out to me, wishing me well, and everything in between. I'm so happy to be home. Of course, I came back with a gross head cold and I'm running on such little sleep soooo I really and truly apologize for the quality of this chapter. It sets up for my next chapter which is the one that I've been DYING to get to since I started this fic. In fact, I had the next chapter as a one-shot idea before deciding to build around it. So yay!

Again, I'm so sorry for the quality of this chapter. I do have plans to eventually go back and fix quite a bit of this fic, and this chapter will be one of the things I do eventually go back to fix.

Now, let's hope that this site doesn't crap out on me like it has what? Two? Three weeks? In a row. Hahaha, before it was no reviews, then it was no notifications or showing that I updated at all (by the way, I wanted to let you all know that I couldn't help but laugh because I noticed spikes in my viewer and visitor counts on the last two Sundays. You all know me too well :D )

Thank you thank you thank you! I promise a MUCH better chapter this upcoming week! :) Let's just blame this on lack of sleep, being sick, and 10 to 12 hour work days for the last 9 days in a row.