[Direct Journal Entry]:

4th of March, M.E. 762

Again, I admit I haven't done a personal entry in quite some time. It's all become a bit of a blur, really. I travel, study, fight, and somehow sleep. Notes on the Cosmogony, the Kings of Yore, the Astrals, the bloodline of Kings and royals…that is my life these last few months. I've only been by the homestead once in the last 10 weeks or so.

Tonight, I wanted to put an end to that. I wanted to spend some time with my two girls. It feels as if they live a world away from me, when they are in truth only a short chocobo ride away. I miss them terribly. I thought I might finally have a chance to do so. However, I received word of a threat at Maldacio. It's a threat we cannot let pass. Maldacio is one of the last viable outposts we have. We've never felt the need to defend it, as it is the base for hunters with extensive battle prowess, and the Glaive frequent there as well. But I am afraid as the night wears on, our enemies are becoming larger, more senseless, and more dangerous. We will need every spare man to be able to defeat the hoardes bearing down on their position.

Ebony's taking me by swift foot, otherwise I would have no time to make a journal entry at all. I wouldn't have even taken the time to do so, were I not so embittered about losing yet another opportunity to look in on my wife and daughter.

What's worse, last I saw her, Aleya told me she wanted to speak to me about something. But before she even had a chance, in rode the Marshal with yet another Quest. She told me it was unimportant and we could speak of it later, but I felt somehow she wasn't being entirely truthful. She only meant to appease me and avoid the Marshal's ire. I've been wondering for weeks what she could possibly have wanted. I do hope it's pleasant, but I'm somehow in dreadful suspicion it may be something ominous. It's obvious she's wearing thin. We rarely talk anymore; When we do, her voice sounds so…unaffected.

I do hope it's not worst-case scenario; The nightmare I've been carrying around every night for the last three months. In that respect, I can only say if she's going to attempt to back out, she'll be sorely disappointed. I'm never letting that woman go.

7th of March, M.E. 762

Well, that's that. The battle is won. I'm leaving straight away from the homestead, and I'm planning to do it before the Marshal is the wiser. I've devoted much attention to the King and Eos. It's time to give my family their due…and to somehow muddle through whatever Aleya means to tell me. Gods, let it be good news.

8th of March, M.E.762

Ignis found Ebony finally answered her wooden whistle by the time his boots had hit the old turn-off to meteor. He good-naturedly scolded her for her absence before handing her a pocketful of kupo nuts he had saved for her. "Picked fresh this morning," he told her, and then swung onto her back. Ebony had never accepted another rider than Ignis. Not even Wiz could tame her. Aleya was only able to sit astride her if Ignis was there, too. He felt somewhat honored for being her only master. However, there were rules. No saddle—she never would let him try it. No reins, either, though she let him direct her by curling his fingers into the feathers of her neck, and with a soft pat of his instep to her side. However, he had to be careful as to where he kicked, for she was ticklish further down her flank. He had learned that the hard way. Now, though, they had an understanding of sorts; He would provide her the best of edibles in return for bringing him to his destination in one piece.

She ran like the wind. She always had. Ignis clung to her, lying nearly flat on her back to become more aerodynamic and lessen the potential of being thrown. Incidentally, it also helped them both keep balance. He felt as if he'd reach his destination in faster pacing than he had expected.

Suddenly, though, close to the meteorwell, she slowed to a stop. She lifted her head high in the air, turning her beak this way and that to sniff the air. Her eyes scoured from the sides of her head to take in the horizon. "I smell it, too," Ignis murmured as he sensed her hesitation, stroking at her wing affectionately. "There must be a campfire nearby."

She gave a soft caw, one foot in the air tentatively. They paused that way for several seconds, and she wouldn't be moved. But then, there was a gust of wind, and Ignis felt his pulse quicken. "On second thought," His brow furrowed, "The wind is blowing from the direction of the ranch." And just as the words died on his lip, he heard rapid gunfire, followed by an animalistic, bellowing roar. His blood ran cold. He knew which beast that bellow belonged to. He felt the shivering chill of driving adrenaline. "No! It can't be…"

And Ebony, without even the slightest command, lurched and tore off in the direction of the camp.

Even with her speed, it took them far too long to get there. The gunfire continued, the roar, followed by several crashes. He could feel the subtle change in temperature as they neared—intense heat—and along with it, a cloying film of thick smoke in the air. Chocobos ran past them, shrieking in confusion and fear. There was the roar of a starting engine in the far distance. The ground shook with a crash, and all went still, except for the most sickening and heart-wrenching sound Ignis had ever heard. It was the sound of his daughter wailing loudly, as if the whole world had suddenly fallen down on top of her. He nearly went faint with fear and despair. Ebony stopped just outside of the wall, stamping nervously at tiny sparks of flame. Ignis had no time to comfort her, and indeed, he had leapt off of her back long before she was fully halted. His feet were in swift motion, running towards that source of heat and smoke, towards that horrifying sound.

"Aleya!" He called desperately. "Caela! Where are you?" He tripped slightly over a body on the ground. A horrible dread hit him, but he quickly recovered. The body had definitely had the build of a male, and the form was not Wiz's. "Leya!" Sounds were around him all at once, destroying his capacity to find his daughter's location. He swirled about, trying to find her tell-tale glow on the sheet of black that he now cursed more than ever.

Shouting people, shrieking chocobos, the roar of the flame…

"Caela!" He called again.

And then, a tiny green-yellow blob, stumbling towards him as fast as her chunky eighteen-month legs could go. She could scarcely walk well, and now she was running directly for him. He went towards her in a glorious hopeful anticipation, and scooped her up after she had fallen for at least the sixth time. She cried afresh at her tumble. "Caela!" He breathed, holding her to his chest. "Thank heavens! Are you hurt, my sweet?"

She could do nothing but scream in despair and woe, so he ran a hand over her little arms and legs, her stomach and head. She seemed to be uninjured in any way. And still, her screaming was unlike anything he had heard before—even worse that the time she took ill to her stomach and worked herself into a frenzy. "It's alright, my little one. I'm here." He whirled about again. "Where is your mother? Leya! Aleya, where are you? Wiz?!"

He heard two people approaching. Had they not nearly been on top of him, he never would have heard in the commotion. He distinctly heard, to his left, the stocky limping gait of a male. The other, approaching from the right, had the lighter step of a female, with the distinguishing creak of leather footwear. He spun in anticipation to the female, but found in sad confusion there was nothing of Aleya's presence. All about him, there were shouts of people on how to put out the fire, who needed medical aid, orders to try to corral the chocobos. The birds were running about in circles, flapping their wings in panic, shaking flame from their feet and tails.

"Wiz!" Ignis turned back to the male on his left. "What's happened? Where's Leya?"

"A bunch 'o raiders," Wiz grunted in pain and disgust. He came to a stop on the leg he had been dragging along. "Had a Behemoth that came with 'em."

Ignis felt as if cold water had been flung in his face. No, no, no. No! This was the exact scenario he had feared when he had met up with the refugee family so many weeks ago. Those raiders were now here, attacking his family, his daughter! If he hadn't had Caela nestled safely in his arm, he might have already lost his mind with panic. Instead, his mind raced on to other things. Why? How? Had the Marshal not said they stuck with normal refugee routes? And then it occurred to him suddenly that the Marshal had posted obvious security detail on those routes, forcing the raiders to move elsewhere. And they had moved here, to his home.

Ignis spun with a snarl to the female behind him. "Are you satisfied with what you've done?!" He yelled, approaching her.

She backed away quickly from the man with flame in his sightless eyes. "Whoa, there! Hold on! We aren't the ones that did this!" She raced backwards a little faster. "We're here to help you!"

Caela had buried her snotty little nose against his shoulder and her cries were somewhat muffled. She moaned between hiccupping breaths, nearly ripping his collar off in her tight tiny fists.

He halted. The woman's voice sounded familiar, but he was in too much of a mental state to let his thoughts drift to where he might have heard it before. "Where is she?!" He demanded of her. "Where is Leya?!"

"Listen…" The woman began, and took a several second pause.

"Leya!" He called over her, not wanting to wait for whatever long story she had to share with him. "Leya! Wiz, where is she?"

There was a long pause. "Son, I don't know—know how to rightly tell you…" His voice was strained and sad.

Ignis' heart plummeted immediately. His equilibrium suddenly seemed to swirl, and he stumbled, breaking into a cold sweat. "No." He shook his head defiantly. "She can't possibly be!" He shoved his daughter into Wiz's arms, creating a new swirl of unhappy screaming from his daughter, as he turned, trying to get his bearings.

Wiz tracked with Ignis the best he could as he ran back and forth in an unorganized half-circle. He continued to try to catch his attention, but the younger man would pay no heed. Ignis kept calling for her in a voice that wasn't his own, sometimes pressing his palms to his eyes in despair at his wicked sightlessness, growling in fury at all the sounds that competed with any trace of her voice or breath. He felt Wiz's hand briefly on his arm. "Listen, son, I need to tell you…"

"No!" Ignis shook him off angrily, with a crazed expression of disbelief at the man trying to stall his search. Caela bawled even louder, startled at her father's behavior. "No! I won't! I can't! She's here, somewhere…She…Leya! Where are you?!" He stubbed his toe on another body as he rounded where the picnic table used to be. It didn't seem small enough to be her. But it was now two dead bodies, and Leya was nowhere to be found. His fear kept rising in intensity.

His next decision was to tear off towards where their bedroom was. But halfway there, he hit a massive wall of something—it felt like a slab of flesh and the shortest of fur. Ignis didn't care whether it was alive or dead. It was blocking his path. He ran his hands along it as he went and realized that the hulking behemoth had dared to fall dead on his very own residence, on his very own—on their very own—bedroom. This massive creature lying within the tattered ruins of their married life filled him with a sickening dread. His knees gave for a moment. But he felt he couldn't give up; Not even if he was running directly towards the smoldering timbers of the residence. He clawed his way up through the timbers. He felt wooden splinters snag and scrape; He fell through the mess more than once. He wouldn't give up. He sank to his knees when he found a bed post, and used it to try to pry the beast's head off of their bedroom. "Leya! Leya! Are you there? Can you hear me? Say something!" His voice broke so badly he wasn't even sure she could have heard him, wherever she was. He simply couldn't bring himself to believe she had been crushed under the weight of this creature. He wouldn't! She had survived the Citadel, the Galahd massacre, and she could survive this, too. He just knew it!

When the bedpost wasn't working, he fell to his knees and pried at the wooden shambles, trying to create a tunnel where he could wedge himself down underneath the rubble. "Not her!" He muttered to himself, using his bare hands to toss away burning timber. "Not her! Never!"

He felt a hand tugging at his heel, and he fought it. He heard a slight hiss as the hand had made contact with his leg. "Damn!" A male voice spat as if he had been injured. Ignis fell to his side in a pile of searing ash, but he felt nothing at all. And then, the hand made another attempt. Now it was four hands, grabbing his leg and dragging him out of the mess. "Why aren't you burnt alive?!" Shouted the strange male voice, again.

"Is he on fire?!" Said another female, another strange voice.

"He's hot as a cinder!" The male said, shaking his hand in the air.

Ignis scrambled to his feet. "Where is she? Where is Leya?" He demanded. "You must know where she is!"

Wiz's arm lurched forward in the dark and grabbed his shirt, pulling him further away from the flame. Ignis grabbed back, twisting his vest in his hand. He wasn't angry; He was just completely desperate. "Where? Where?!"

Before Wiz could reply, the woman interrupted. "That's what we're trying to tell you, idiot! Alvor took her!"

He whirled on her at once. "Alvor!" A dangerous glint crossed his features, and the woman instinctively moved further away from him. "Is he responsible for this?" He now perfectly remembered the owner of that feminine voice. She had been Alvor's fellow hunter, traveling in his party. He reached out and grabbed her arm.

Idelle wrenched away from him. "No! I told you! We're trying to help you! We're the ones who fought and killed the Behe-!"

"You let him take her?!" He demanded, grabbing her arm again. "He's more dangerous than the beast!" The memory tore into his mind uninvited; Of Alvor forcing himself on her, twisting her arm until the bones nearly snapped, of putting his hands in places he had no right, of the names he called her, of punching her and drawing blood. The man was an animal! Far worse than any fiend they could encounter in the bleak of the Starscourge. Ignis was fully prepared to make good on his promise—Once he rescued Aleya from his clutches, he would make damned sure there was no more Alvor to be in dread of.

"He won't hurt her!" She shouted back. "He's trying to save her!"

"Save her?!"

Wiz pulled him away, but it was more gentle this time. There was no mistaking the underlying grief in his voice when he spoke. "She was hurt, Ignis. She was hurt real bad."

"What?" Once again, he felt a bit dizzy and his knees threatened to betray him. His chest felt instantly hollow, and his stomach gripped back with a fury. Everything overwhelmed him at once: The flame, the heat, the voices, the smoke, Caela's cry, the tensed muscles in his body that shook with overwhelming adrenaline, his heart kicking at him in spiteful hatred. "Hurt?"

"The beast was going after Caela. She got there in time; and fought it off long enough for me to get Caela out. But the behemoth…when she tried to get clear, it took a swipe at her. She was bleeding, son. She was bleeding—too much. Bleeding from…from…" Wiz choked, and couldn't continue.

"We used the last elixir we had," the woman interrupted. "It didn't do anything for her. She needed a Mega, and those can only be found in Lestallum."

Ignis stood dazed as if he hadn't heard and had gone completely senseless. His voice was a whisper now, "Bleeding." Suddenly, he snapped his attention to Wiz. "Was she really bleeding?"

"Y-yes. A lot. She wouldn't wake up. I think maybe…"

Ignis swiftly kissed his daughter. "Protect her with your life!" He commanded Wiz sternly. "Get to Lestallum. I'll meet you there."

"We'll take him in safely!" The woman assured her as he ran back towards Ebony.

"Where are you going?" Wiz cried.

He threw a leg over Ebony and spun her the way he wanted to go. "I'm going after her!" He snarled, and they lit off into the night.

Ignis had hoped to catch up to them long before arriving in Lestallum, but it wasn't to be. Part of him dreading that she could truly be so injured so as to die, part of him concerned that Alvor had made her wounds an excuse to abduct her. He didn't trust the man, and he never would. And if he had been so bold to attack Leya in a public view, what might he do to her if they were alone? The thought made him physically ill. He couldn't imagine anyone deliberately harming the dearest woman in the world, but he knew for a certainty it happened more often than he would have ever dreamed. It went well back to the first few days after meeting her acquaintance. And Alvor, of course, was the worst of them all. The world truly was a dark place, if it sought to taint such bright beauty.

If the man harmed her, death would be his swift penalty.

If she had truly been so hurt in the attack, would they even make the full distance to Lestallum? If she was bleeding—what had caused the bleeding? His mind went wild with a plentitude of alarming and horrendous theories. Wiz had said the behemoth had swiped at her; Did it nearly slice her in two? Did rubble rain down and crush her afterwards? Had she suffered a blow to the head? Was she wounded in 'friendly' fire? His throat burned with fire and his chest ached at the nightmares dancing through his thoughts. He tried to tamp down the mental images of severed flesh and open head wounds. "Please, Ebony," he begged her, although she was running as swiftly as she could.

Across the plains of Duscae, into Leide…He heard nothing of them. Ebony never stalled as if sensing Aleya's scent. She stayed to her straight and purposeful course towards Lestallum. She ducked and weaved through demons, outpaced coeurls and megaloclaws, flew over rocks and under branches. She seemed almost as eager to recover Ignis' love as Ignis was, himself. Her beak hung wide open and her tongue lolled about as she panted, gasping for air in her eagerness to deliver her rider to his destination.

When they hit the gates of the city, the Glaive readily swung open the doors. Ebony's legs were trembling. He asked about her even as he leapt from the bird's back. "Did you see a woman?!" He shouted desperately. After a short silence, he had the presence of mind to re-phrase. "Long, beautiful hair. Very pretty. She might have been injured…"

"Oh, yeah. Alvor brought one in about twenty minutes ago. She got mangled up pretty bad. It's a shame. I thought she was dead, at first. She might be, by now."

'Mangled?!' Ignis thought, with uncontrollable dread and fear rising up. He shook uncontrollably, and thought he might die of an infarction on the spot. "Where is she?!" He pleaded.

"Her friend took her from Alvor—Gladio Amicitia. It was a bit of chaos, but I think he took her to the old Leville and called a doctor."

Ignis forgot his usual manners and took to flight before they were even finished speaking. "Take care of my bird!" He shouted over his shoulder as he ran as swiftly as his hammering feet and protesting heart and lungs could take him.

He wasn't sure what he would find. She was injured…mangled, as they stated. She was indeed obviously gravely hurt. She could by now be in the direst of straits or even… No! He wouldn't think of that possibility at all. He must have faith! She had survived the Citadel, as he told himself before. The woman was made of material that shouldn't exist, despite her fragile appearance. Then again, it wasn't only the injury to her body. Did Alvor harm her in her in any way? Did her psyche suffer? He gasped for breath and forced his watering eyes to still themselves.

He made a commotion as he broke into the lobby and raced upstairs, running into several citizens along the way. He was positively sure he had knocked at least one person over. He didn't have time to stop; Amends could be made later. He knew Aleya would most likely be where she had been the last time she had come for emergency treatment—Iris' room. He heard, felt, and thought nothing as he rounded the corner, determined to reach her. But as he neared the appropriate door, he ran into an outstretched arm. He hadn't expected it at all, a sign that his mind was truly singularly-focused. The impact into his chest was so hard that it had actually significantly hurt him to walk into it. He staggered backwards, instinctively clutching the offended area. "Gladio!" It was an arm that could only belong to one person. But why? Why would Gladio prevent him? If it was a matter of privacy, they were well beyond that. She was his wife, after all. "What are you doing? Let me pass!" He attempted again, only to be met with more resistance.

"I don't think you should go in right now."

What? This made no sense at all! Didn't Gladio understand how desperate he was to be with her? Musings lacking all practical sense came to mind. His first thought was that Alvor was with her, and Gladio was trying to keep a brawl from ensuing. His second thought-as improbable as he would have declared it in a sensible frame of mind-was that Gladio wanted to be her own personal hero.

"Move! I need to go to her!"

"Stop it!" Gladio insisted as Ignis tried again. He wrangled him for a moment, surprised at Ignis' strength. It wasn't as if he lacked physical strength. Ignis had pulled off a few feats that required substantial muscle in his life, far more than his lean body would have suggested him capable of. However, between the two, Gladio figured he would have a clear advantage over Ignis. He was finding the struggle surprisingly difficult. "Calm the hell down!"

"Get out of my way!" Ignis snapped at him.

"Would you just stop? Use those brains you're so famous for! Doc says she wants to be alone!"

Ignis didn't even think about what he was doing, nor would he believe he had done it when Gladio would tell him the story later. But he had somehow grabbed Gladio by the jacket and slung him sideways, throwing him into the wall. "I won't tell you again!"

Gladio's first instinct was to grab his friend by the back of the collar and throw him down the stairwell, just out of sheer intolerance for his behavior. Though, as he turned to execute his plan, he stopped cold in his tracks in dumbfounded astonishment.

Ignis Scientia—cool, calm, level-headed Ignis—was literally aglow, as if on fire. His eyes burned as embers, staring directly at Gladio as if he could see him. His lips were drawn back into a challenging snarl. His fist rose slightly, and blue flames licked off his knuckles. Gladio took a hesitant step back. Ignis Scientia was in a literal heated rage, burning like the Pyreburner himself.

He had heard before Iris and Prompto's description of that fateful evening at camp, when Ignis had stood in defense of Aleya, and punished Alvor severely for laying hands on her. He had always thought the phenomena they described had been somewhat over-exaggerated; He supposed Ignis had gotten too close to a flame sphere, or perhaps he was standing just right in front of the campfire to seem as if the flames were somehow emanating from him. But, that apparently was not the case at all. Ignis was now burning in front of him, fire—or something that looked very much like it—rolling off of his skin like steam rises from hot pavement in a cool rain. And the flames weren't hurting him at all, nor scorching his hair or clothes. It was supernatural, and it sent Gladio staring at him in stunned awe. With mouth agape, he let Ignis pass.

He watched from the doorway as Ignis dashed to the bedside, the flame extinguishing as soon as he crossed the threshold. Iris had been sitting silently by the bed keeping watch, but when she saw Ignis throw open the door in such a state, she hurried to Gladio's side. She looked at her brother with something bordering on apprehensive terror in her eyes. "Gladdy! What should we do?!"

Gladio shook his head, still in disbelief. "Well, I suppose he has to find out some time. Just leave him to it." And with that, he closed the door, leaving Ignis and Aleya alone.

Ignis, for his part, wasted no time. He fell to his knees at her bedside, still trembling all over in fear. "Leya! Leya, can you hear me? Are you hurt?!" He could still see a faint glow of her outline; She wasn't gone yet, though he had never seen her personification so pale. He could hardly hear her breath at all. She was curled into the fetal position. Though Ignis couldn't see it, she was actually staring at the wall—straight through him, as if he were not there. Nor could he read her expression, but even if he could have, it would have been devoid of expression.

"Love, can you talk? Can you hear me?" Ignis' hands roved over her, trying to find any physical injury he could occupy himself with trying to heal. When his hand fell to the bandages on her abdomen, she let out a slight whimpering cry. But there was no flinch, no energy to guard herself from the offending hand. Her breath went back to being nearly non-existent, and her posture never changed. "Leya! My…My Girl, Oh My Girl! What's wrong?" He pleaded with her.

She said nothing. Nothing at all.

His fumbling fingers fell to her wrist, checking her pulse. Where was the bloody doctor?! Why wasn't someone in here treating her?! Satisfied that she had the faint signs of life still pumping through her veins, he let out a haggard breath and grabbed her hand tightly. "You're scaring me, Love," he told her. Still no words. No comfort, no reassurance, no typical bravery. Not even sobbing or grunting with pain. Nothing. She felt completely void and vacant to him. "Please," he pleaded again, moving his hands to cup her face. "Please, Leya!" And then he felt the hot river of tears trailing over the bridge of her nose and over his own thumb. His heart gripped hard in his chest. She was in the worst pain imaginable, but he feared that pain was the deepest of internal.

His head rolled with a hundred possibilities as to what would cause her such misery, but eliminated all to the top four in less than a moment. Alvor topped the list, of course. He would have had plenty of time to inflict trauma. Though other scenarios also came to mind: How long were the raiders there before Alvor's crew showed up and 'helped'? What had they done in the meantime? Had those who once threatened to lynch and kill her in Lestallum seen her upon arrival? Had they unlocked some pent-up trauma? After all, he hadn't been there to give her any assurances or make her feel any safer. Maybe it was even Ardyn, who had proven he'd be more than happy to use her as a bait and lure to cause Ignis injury. In any event, one truth was certain. Someone or something had hurt her in a way that she couldn't express, that shamed her to tell him. His voice broke as he put his forehead to hers, smoothing her hair aimlessly. "No matter what it is, you can tell me," he assured her. "Nothing could change how I feel. Nothing in this world, Leya. You know that. Just let me hear your voice. I can't…I can't bear it."

There was still no response verbally. There was no movement. But the tears came more swiftly and she let out a strangled breath.

He was in misery. Just as he thought he would go mad with worry and wild speculation, the doctor walked in. "Where the bloody hell have you been?" Ignis demanded, jumping to his feet.

Eiler didn't seem the least bit fazed by his outburst. "Mr. Scientia." His voice was low. It wasn't professional, curt. No, it was pained and full of dread. "May I have a word?"

'Oh, gods,' Ignis thought, his face blanching. 'Oh no. Here it comes.' He realized all at once he didn't want to know what had happened, at all. He just wanted the doctor to make her better and leave him in blissful ignorance. He put a clumsy hand to Aleya's shoulder, trailing his fingers in an awkward display of assurance. "I'll be back," he promised. He knelt over and kissed her head. "I'll be right outside the door. You're safe. No one can harm you while I'm here." Damn it all, though! How many times had he made such assurances? How many times had he failed to keep them? He loved her so much, and yet again, he had failed to protect her! Just as he had failed the King and His heir.

There was still no reaction of any kind from her at all. He used shaking fingers to pull the bedsheet over her shoulders, and then met the doctor in the hallway, along with Gladio and Iris.

Iris touched his arm, full of sympathy. "Oh, Iggy."

He ran a dyskinetic hand through his hair as the doctor closed the door behind him. "I'd like to speak to him alone," he told the Amicitias.

"Sure." Gladio answered, but now his voice was thick with concern.

"We'll be just down the stairs, Ignis." Iris gave him one final reassuring pat on the arm before going down the stairwell with her brother.

They all knew something he didn't, and it was terrifying him. What could they possibly have found out in the twenty-minute gap between when Alvor arrived and he had? Eiler must have been standing at the gate, if he already knew what was wrong with her. It was possible, he supposed, though he thought it most likely that the men at the gate had made a miscalculation in their estimation of time. Whatever had occurred, they all knew the secret. And once again, he wasn't sure he wanted to be let in on it.

"Mr. Scientia…" The doctor's voice sounded grieved, but also cautious and guarded, almost as if a man were talking someone out of doing something insane.

It was all the confirmation Ignis needed. He clenched his fists so tightly he deprived them of blood, and demanded an answer at once. "Who did it?! Tell me who he is!"

The doctor stared at him in astonishment. "What do you think happened to her?"

"I don't care who it is! If anyone dared to do something like this, they won't escape me!"

"Calm down! No one harmed her, if that is what you're thinking."

Ignis' hand immediately relaxed and he stood in confusion. "Then….I….? I-I don't understand. What could possibly have happened to her? Why won't she tell me? Why isn't she saying—she's not speaking a word!"

"It isn't an easy thing to tell," the doctor explained. "She just found out herself. She's suffering a lot of emotional turmoil. She might not be herself for a while."

"Has she had some sort of breakdown?" He wondered aloud.

"It's possible."

Ignis felt a sudden overwhelming fatigue, as if someone had smashed him under a tremendous weight. "I don't follow you. Just spit it out, man! What's happened to her? Wiz said she was bleeding…?"

Dr. Eiler frowned. "Yes. A Behemoth attacked, apparently. One swipe with the foreclaw, across the abdomen."

Ignis shuddered involuntarily and felt faint. He steadied himself by leaning a hand against the hallway wall, ducking his head. His breath fell shallow. Depending on how deep it had been, the monster could have torn out her insides; It could have even severed her spine...though most likely she wouldn't have lived.

"Don't worry. She'll survive it. She may even heal completely from it." He put a hand on Ignis' shoulder.

"And?" Somehow, he knew it wasn't the worst of it. Aleya wouldn't have turned paralyzed and mute if that had been the entirety.

"There's no easy way to tell you."

"Easy or not, tell me!" He snapped, beginning to lose his patience.

He took a deep breath through his nose, still not loosening his grip on Ignis' shoulder. "I'm afraid an injury like that—Well, I'm afraid she's lost the baby."

Time suddenly stopped. All Ignis could hear was his own pulse in his ears, accompanied by a high pitch squeal. The black that always filled his vision was suddenly a shock of bright white. His voice hitched in his throat for a moment. "W—What did you say?" Maybe he had misunderstood the man. His vision faded back to black as he grabbed the sleeve of the hand that gripped his shoulder.

"It's not her fault," the doctor assured him. "It just…there was no way it could survive something like that. But, we saved Aleya. That is the good you must hold on to."

He was still confused; Agonizingly confused. "Leya's pregnant?"

His hand fell away from Ignis' shoulder and he turned around, looking to the streets outside the window with a sense of helplessness, no doubt. "Well, she was."

There was no warning at all. Ignis' right leg gave away slightly. He fell sideways against the door to the room, rattling it on its hinges. All breath was lost in his lungs. "Oh. My-My gods."

"You didn't know." It wasn't a question. It was now a confirmed suspicion.

"I've—been away." His mind raced in a desperate attempt to make sense of what was happening. He had been gone for a while. His last visit had been brief; So brief that he barely had time for a decent nap before hitting the road again for the hunt the Marshal had requested his assistance on. He had remembered she wanted to tell him something just before the Marshal rode in. And by the time all was settled, she assured him she could tell him later.

It was then that he knew. He knew she had meant to tell him he was going to be a father, again. He couldn't imagine how disappointed she must have been when he left with all haste; So quickly she never had a chance to confide in him.

That raw pain that signaled his grief and absolute despair rose again in his throat, nearly choking out his voice. "How—How far along?"

"Hard to tell. I'd guess about three or four months."

He ran a dismayed hand over his mouth before clutching at his heart. No wonder she was in so much pain! She had known, had no doubt already loved. She had wanted him to know. And Aleya, he was certain, would have given anything to keep the child safe. Also he knew how Aleya viewed her responsibility towards him, and she was no doubt horrified that she had failed him by losing his child. And where had he been when all this had happened? He, who was supposed to be her avowed sword and shield? Away! Away on a string of pointless discoveries and missions. Over and over, he had failed her! Now all the guilt came as to how long he had been gone, how little time he had spent with her. Only enough time to give her offspring, he supposed, but never enough time to give her true affection; Not for over a year. In every way possible, he had failed! "It's my fault. Mine."

The doctor patted his arm sympathetically. "Don't beat yourself up about it, son. In these dark times, these things happen. Neither you or she had any control over this. It's the price we pay for this eternal dark. It's one disaster, one tragedy, one death after the other. Still, we managed to save her, at least." He paused, realizing Ignis wasn't drawing the comfort or calm he had expected to give him. "I'm—truly sorry for your loss."

However, the doctor didn't realize how deeply his words did reach Ignis. 'Yes,' he mused. 'It's this damned night! This bloody Starscourge!' He thought they would be rid of it so long ago. But time and defeat continued to oppress them, to beat them into submissive hopelessness. If only—If only Noct had returned by now! "Leya." He could barely speak at all. His voice came out a whisper. "What of Leya?"

"Physically, she is recovering. I did some rough and quick emergency stitching on her organs, and the megalixer did seal the wounds and spare much of the damage. I'm sure we've spared her life. She should retain normal urinary and bowel function. We caught that in time, and as foul fortune would have it, the positioning of the strike seemed to center…well, elsewhere. As to the prospect of any future children—I doubt it's possible. The organs will be permanently damaged. Miracles have been known to happen; But we'll wait and see."

Ignis pinched his eyes shut painfully. If only he had been there! If only he had stayed with her!

"She'll need a few weeks to mend physically. Emotionally—she may be in a state of shock for a while. Be patient with her, and with yourself. Sometimes the heart is the slowest to recover. Rest assured, everything will slowly get better. Time heals all wounds. I would recommend giving her space for a day or two to process everything. After that—just take it as it comes. Call me if you need anything."

He tried to force words of gratitude from his mouth, but no sound came at all. In addition to blindness, he had gone mute and deaf, too. He stood there well after the doctor had departed, hand over his heart, back to the door, listening to the furious 'whoosh' of the burning fire in his blood; the piercing pain.

And then, it occurred to him that he heard a sound he had never heard before. Behind the door, he heard sobbing. He had heard her cry before, but never like this. At first, it was quiet and measured, and then it escalated to a wail of absolute despair. His heart broke into two beneath his hand. The pain was visceral, choking his airway, causing him to audibly groan. He clutched at his shirt, digging his fingernails into the fabric. Hot tears spilled down his face as he listed to his wife—the woman he loved more than life itself, the woman he had failed to protect and cherish—cry as if she were going to die, too. "Leya," he sobbed, his face twisting into agony. "Forgive me! Gods, forgive me!"