“Immersed in anger and hatred, he lives on immortal and knows not a moment’s respite. Please, go forth. Restore the Light . . . and free my brother from his eternal curse.”
Two brothers, as close as could be when children, driven apart by opposing ideals when adults. The relationship between the siblings had deteriorated until finally one died at the other’s hands. Noctis knew that Somnus had regretted that outcome for the rest of his days.
“I will see it done,” he vowed.
Somnus nodded. “You have my gratitude.”
And then, with a faint smile shining through his melancholic expression, Somnus faded away.
The encounter with the Mystic brought a new question to the fore of Noctis’s mind. The gods had given the power to draw the scourge to Ardyn alone. But why? It wasn’t as if it could be given to only one person at time, or that Ardyn was the only one capable of wielding it. Both points were disproved by the fact that Lunafreya now possessed it as well.
If, in that age long past, the gods had bestowed such power on Somnus as well, perhaps the two brothers could have greeted the future together, even if their opinions had differed.
Or perhaps, if the power had been given to someone else entirely, and neither Ardyn nor Somnus wielded it, the outcome could have been different. The deadly struggle might have still claimed Ardyn’s life, but the resulting hatred would not have persisted for millennia. Surely all would have been forgotten once the two men had both passed from the world.
Two brothers at odds, one with a power the other could never hope to possess. In the end, that was all it boiled down to. That difference between them had ultimately drawn a curtain of darkness across the world. The more Noctis thought it through, the more inept the gods seemed to be. Or perhaps it was simple arrogance: an inability of the Six to admit their own shortsightedness.
Perhaps Lunafreya was now being led along by that same blind arrogance. Or, more likely, yanked and dragged along, subject to all the accompanying suffering.
Plagued with doubts about the gods who gave him power, Noctis made haste toward the throne room.
She’d bitten off more than she could chew. Somewhere, in some corner of her mind, she knew that. To assume she might be able to pull every bit of infestation from the daemonified Infernian―it was as rash a plan as could be imagined. Still, she’d told herself she had to try. It was the only real means she had to face the deity.
“Ardyn!” she shouted, as the streams of scourge poured into her arms, “Is it not the Draconian who truly deserves your hate? Are you content to be but a cog in his machinations?!”
The words poured out of her in desperation. She had to get through to the man. The darkness was seething inside of her, and each time her mouth opened, she feared it might be the snarls and growls of a beast leaving her throat rather than words.
“Humanity brought to an end? The Star wiped from existence? How terribly convenient for me. Now if I could only find a way to eliminate that pesky god pulling all the strings. Then my revenge would be complete.”
She saw the twisted smile on Ardyn’s lips. In her struggle against the Infernian, she’d inadvertently drawn nearer to the throne.
“The Bladekeeper cannot be slain! He exists not only in our world, but also in the one beyond!”
Ardyn’s eyes widened just slightly.
“We cannot hope to kill him,” Lunafreya repeated, “But if we can convince him to cast his spell of destruction, he will be depleted and fall into deep slumber.”
It would be like the Great War of Old. According to Gentiana, Teraflare could be cast only once. If they managed to survive the initial blast, they would be safe. Humanity would continue on.
By allowing the Bladekeeper to gather all the darkness into his spell, they could also rid the Star of the scourge. Four of the Six―Shiva, Ramuh, Titan, and Leviathan―had managed to protect Eos from Teraflare in the past. So long as they could manage the same feat again, Teraflare could be the key to ending the darkness.
“That is why,” Lunafreya said to Ardyn, “I ask that you give to me the scourge that resides within you. I will pretend that I have slain you, appear to carry out the Draconian’s calling . . . and . . . ”
Lunafreya found herself unable to go on. Her breath caught with pain. Tears blurred her vision. In her warped field of view, she saw the face of the Pyreburner, twisted in similar anguish.
She remembered Gentiana’s tales, and particularly one quiet story shared after Lunafreya had learned of the Messenger’s true identity. The goddess always chose her words carefully, preferring modest expressions, but behind them was a clear and overflowing affection for humanity. As Lunafreya reviewed the story in her mind, it became clear just how much the members of the Six that resided on the Star shared in common with their mortal charges. Even the anger and hatred they experienced were feelings similar to those of humans.
At long last, the pain receded from the Infernian’s visage. She seemed to have succeeded in freeing the god from the influence of the scourge. But it came at a cost: the agony burning within Lunafreya had increased several times over.
The Infernian turned toward Ardyn, who once again sat upon the throne. Anger twisted the god’s features. Clearly, Ifrit was aware of his own loss of autonomy and of the fact that Ardyn had been behind his enslavement.
“Insolent mortal,” spat the Pyreburner.
“Wait!” Lunafreya cried, fighting back against the strangling pain. To thwart the Draconian’s plot to incinerate the Star and end all mankind, Ardyn’s cooperation was absolutely essential. She couldn’t afford a conflict between Ardyn and the Infernian. She had to stop them.
“God of Fire, I beseech you! Enter into covenant that the king might save our star!”
The fiery fist heading straight for Ardyn froze, and Ifrit turned to face the Oracle. Lunafreya found herself frozen as well, shocked by her own request. She’d been desperate for any means to prevent a fight, but the idea of using the covenant came out of nowhere.
Still, she continued, “It is I, Lunafreya, blood of the Oracle. In exchange for your release from the bonds of the scourge, lend your power to the Crystal’s Chosen King.”
It was all she could do to manage to stay on her feet. She forced her eyes wide. Tears were streaming from them now, and she could imagine the inky trails flowing down her cheeks.
“Let the king have your blessing!”
She had not previously forged a covenant with the Infernian―her demise in Altissia had come before she’d been able to make any attempt―and she’d always harbored a regret deep down at that failure of duty. Perhaps that was why the idea had come to her now.
“Please . . . ”
Ages seemed to pass as she stood on trembling legs, caught between the heat of the flames before her and the agony of the scourge within. A moment in reality was for Lunafreya an eternity of torment.
The Infernian’s gaze softened.
“So be it,” he said. A curt answer, but sufficient all the same.
A chill wind blew through the throne room, and Lunafreya saw that the Infernian had departed.
She clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to slump to the floor. She knew that if her knees buckled now, she would not stand again, so she held on. Both her legs were nearly numb. The only thing she could feel was the aching of the scourge.
She heard a pair of hands begin to clap.
“Quite the show, Lady Lunafreya.” Ardyn was standing again, his hands coming together with slow, dramatic sweeps. No trace remained of the hesitation and doubt she’d glimpsed before.
“And for your next act, you’ll deceive a god?”
Lunafreya found it difficult to speak. She nodded instead.
“You and I shall put on a glorious performance, and when it’s over, I’ll be the one to fall on stage, is that it? A fascinating proposal. But I do have one question.”
Ardyn’s smile widened. It was an expression that had nothing to do with mirth.
“You’ve just gone past your limit. Now how will the show go on?”
And with that, her vision went black. Ardyn and everything else in the throne room disappeared. She heard the howling of a beast, and by the time she recognized it as her own voice, all was drowned in darkness.
Noctis heard a scream like that of a beast in pain. It seemed to be coming from just beyond the doors he sought to open. He flung them wide and rushed into the throne room, only to stop dead in his tracks. Some manner of creature lay writhing on the floor. From its jet-black skin rose the dark miasma of the daemons.
“I’m afraid you’re out of luck,” Ardyn’s voice floated down from on high. “You’ve arrived just a moment too late.”
“Ardyn!” Noctis growled.
“She couldn’t wait for you any longer, you see.”
The creature raised its head, arms and legs still limp on the floor.
Noctis gasped. “Luna!”
Lunafreya made no response to Noctis’s voice. Her eyes were vacant. It was impossible to tell what she was looking at, or if she could see anything at all.
With the scourge’s transformation, she hardly resembled the woman she was before. All the same, Noctis knew immediately that it was her.
He turned back to Ardyn. “What did you do to her?!”
“Now why would you think to blame this on me? I’m almost offended.”
“Enough with the games!”
“I assure you, this is all of her own doing. She absorbed every last bit of scourge from the Infernian himself.”
Lunafreya stumbled to her feet. When Noctis tried to rush to her side, she leapt away with inhuman speed, reaching down to snatch up a polearm that had fallen on the ground.
“Luna . . . ” Noctis watched in disbelief as she leveled her weapon’s blade directly at him. “Please! Stop this!”
She lunged, offering no word of explanation, or any indication that she’d heard his words, let alone comprehended them. Noctis dodged to the side, barely avoiding her thrust. It was clear her actions were not intended for show. She sought to take his life.
“Luna!” he shouted. “Can’t you see it’s me?!”
He’d managed to grab the spear’s haft with one hand, gripping it tight. He needed to get the weapon away from her, before she got hurt.
But a mere moment after he’d laid his hand on the weapon, the world inverted before his eyes and his back slammed against the ground. He groaned in a mix of pain and disbelief. Somehow, she’d been able to lift and throw Noctis down effortlessly, in a show of overwhelming strength.
“Please . . . Luna, you have to snap out of it,” he pleaded, rising from the floor and approaching her again.