No words accompanied the scene that unfolded, but nonetheless Lunafreya found herself provided with an answer. The ring served not only to call forth the souls of the departed into the mortal realm, it also allowed its wielder to travel together with those souls―to cross over into the Beyond, the realm linked to their world by way of the Crystal, which had existed since time immemorial. And over its boundary could traverse no mortal flesh.
Lunafreya watched as Noctis, stripped of flesh and no longer of this world, traveled to the Beyond using the power of the ring. There he sought out Ardyn’s trapped soul and destroyed it.
However, use of the ring had always come at a price―the powers it bestowed cost the wielder’s life. After defeating Ardyn, Noctis’s own form shattered. He vanished in that space beyond and was gone forevermore.
This was the calling of the True King: to bring an end to the bearer of darkness through the sacrifice of his own existence.
“But that . . . That is . . . ” Lunafreya could not finish.
She’d been asked by King Regis to see the Ring of the Lucii safely to his son. Keeping that promise, she believed, would ensure a future for their star. So she’d run desperately to escape Insomnia as the city went up in flames. She slipped in among the throngs of evacuees and quietly made her way toward Altissia. Never had she imagined that the object for which she’d risked so much would ultimately take her beloved’s life.
She had sacrificed her life, only for the man she loved to lose his as well. That, it seemed, had been the Oracle’s calling.
All strength left her body, and she collapsed to her knees. If only she’d known . . . If only she’d realized the truth of her actions and the end they would bring . . .
Thus was ordained the fate of man. Thus was the Chosen meant to fulfill his calling.
Lunafreya’s head snapped up.
Was?
Had something changed?
The Noctis of her vision was not as she’d known him in life. He was older, more wearied. If the Noctis she’d seen fighting with Ardyn was some vision of a future meant to be, perhaps the Bladekeeper’s words implied that fate’s course had changed. Noctis would no longer be able to fulfill his intended calling. But if that were true, what had happened to stand in his way?
The color of the space around her shifted yet again. Darkness became the flames of a raging fire. Ardyn stood, and before him Ifrit, the Infernian, knelt in subjugation. The chancellor’s body was no longer that of a man. His skin was jet black, his entire form shrouded in the dark miasma of the daemons.
The impudent Accursed would resist his fate. Eyes blind to will divine, he submits to the base desires of his iniquitous heart.
The impure power the Usurper wields grows great, such that even the power of the ring suffices not to drive him away.
The Ardyn who had crossed swords with Noctis in the Citadel courtyard had seemed yet human. The Ardyn she saw before her now, commanding the Pyreburner, was anything but. So this was the power of darkness brought to a peak.
Go forth with haste to Insomnia and stay the Usurper.
For this purpose are new life and strength granted. Such is the Oracle’s new calling.
Lunafreya put a hand once more to the scar in her side. This body, dead once at Ardyn’s hands, and this power, strong enough to stay the mightiest daemons―they were both gifts bestowed unto her by the God of War.
And with them, I am to defeat Ardyn? Me? Am I even capable of such a feat?
But if fate ordained had changed, perhaps that meant Noctis would no longer need to use the ring. He’d seemed to be in such agony when it happened. If she ventured forth as the Draconian commanded, perhaps Noctis would not have to suffer. He would not shatter into pieces in the world beyond. He would not cease to exist.
If Noctis could be saved, it was worth trying to see this new calling through.
When Lunafreya rose in the morning, the sensation wasn’t any different from all the other times she’d woken. Only this time, there was no morning light to greet her. The world outside the windows was still immersed in perpetual darkness.
She remembered with perfect clarity every word of her conversation with the Draconian. But no matter how she tried, she could not remember the god’s form or visage. Somehow, that confirmed to her that what she’d seen had not been an ordinary dream or a product of her imagination.
“A new calling,” she said softly to herself.
As the words left her mouth, she felt a surge of motivation to see it through. She sprang up, ready to act. On the floor next to where she’d slept she saw a small pile of folded black cloth. When she picked it up, she discovered it to be a full set of clothing. It hadn’t been there when she went to sleep. Perhaps its presence suggested she was welcome to change into it?
As she pondered what to do, the door opened and Sol peeked in.
“You finally up?” Sol asked.
“Oh. Yes. Good morning.” Lunafreya responded. She paused, then asked, “About these clothes . . . ”
“You looked like you could use a change. I dunno if they’ll fit, but it’s better than walking around in what you’ve got on now.”
Over the course of the previous day, her soaked dress had finally managed to dry. Still, it was torn in several places and smeared with dirt. It had, in a sense, seen ten years of use, so it was hardly surprising that it might be literally a bit worse for wear. She thanked Sol and quickly changed.
Black was a color she’d never worn before. As Oracle, it was only proper for her to perform rites in formal white. On her journeys, too, she’d always chosen to wear white. Come to think of it, even her casual wardrobe had been filled exclusively with whites and off-whites.
The new clothes thus seemed rather peculiar on her, once she’d changed and was looking herself over. The stretchable fabric was admittedly comfortable, and she suspected it would prove easy to move about in. Yet the clothing was still somehow hard to accept. It made her uneasy. She wondered if she might ever shake the feeling that she was wearing borrowed garb.
The first words out of Sol’s mouth on seeing her were, “Looks good on you.” Then she added, “A lot better than that old dress.”