by Jun Eishima
Last night, we found ourselves with an abundance of free time from our arrival at the night’s lodgings until it was time to go to sleep. We spent it in leisure, and Sol taught me a card game. Tonight, however, I suggested that we turn in early. She seems quite exhausted. I sense there is some great worry on her mind and that it has plagued her all day long. She is not her usual self.
I suppose I should mention that while Sol may be somewhat lacking in culinary skills, she is quite a proficient card player. I was impressed by her skill in planning and carefully executing each strategy for victory. Over the course of the evening, I managed not a single win. According to Sol, I am far too transparent in my intentions for my own good, and I let slip my hand too easily. At the time, I felt her accusations rather harsh and flatly refuted them.
She and I are slowly opening up to each other, but―perhaps because of this new power bestowed upon me, or perhaps because I have explained how I came to once again walk among the living―Sol continues to be wary of me.
Once Lunafreya touched nib to paper, the words poured forth in an endless torrent. She found herself unable to stop. There were so many things she wanted to tell Noctis, and she grew frustrated as her hand’s pace fell far short of her mind’s. For hours, she continued to sweep her pen across the pages, lost in thought. When she’d begun her watch, she’d worried she might not know what to do with herself or that she might fall asleep and let the fire die out. In truth, there was no need for concern. She was so immersed in her writing, she did not even realize it was time to change shifts until Sol came out of the tent.
It was already dawn when Sol felt her smartphone buzz. She fished it out of her pocket and checked the display: an incoming call from Gladiolus Amicitia.
She smiled. It was almost funny in a way―ten years ago, who could have imagined a citizen of Niflheim working together with a sworn Shield of the King?
If the man was reaching out to her now, odds were almost certain he wanted to ask about Luna. She answered his call.
“Can you talk?” Gladio asked.
“Yeah,” Sol replied. She understood exactly what the question meant. “She’s asleep in the tent. I’m outside.”
He laughed. “You’ve always been a quick one.”
Quick or not, it was hard for her to imagine any other meaning to his words under the circumstances. Once Sol had described her encounter with the Oracle to Cindy, the information had undoubtedly been relayed to Gladio and his comrades all but immediately.
“So what are your thoughts?” the Shield asked. “Think she’s the real deal?”
“I still don’t know. But that’s what she claims.”
“Noct would know,” Gladio muttered. “He’d be able to tell right away.”
“You really think so? Even he might not be able to know for sure, given the circumstances.”
According to Luna, their last proper encounter had taken place while they were still children. Twelve years later, there had been a reunion of sorts, in Altissia, but he had only been part of the crowd as she addressed the people, her eyes meeting his from afar. If that was the extent of contact King Noctis had with the Oracle as an adult, would he truly know her so readily?
“Well,” Sol said, “regardless of who she is, she’s . . . ”
Got my back, she was going to say but reconsidered. The woman’s power was unsettling. There was no getting around that. Even if it’d been granted by the gods, as she claimed, from any objective viewpoint, it was the kind of thing you’d expect of a monster, not from someone you wanted to place your trust in.
She reached for another expression and finally settled on “She’s proving helpful.”
“Right. I’ll pass the word on to Sania. She seems to think this self-proclaimed ‘Oracle’ and her powers, whatever they are, might make for some interesting scientific research.”
Though Sol had just compared her power to that of a monster, hearing Luna described as a potential research subject was somehow disturbing. She wasn’t sure exactly where that feeling was coming from, and she had barely begun to untangle it when she heard a rustling sound behind her. She turned to see Luna poking her head through the tent flap.
“All right, sounds good,” Sol hurriedly said into the phone. “Talk to you later.”
She cut the call and turned her gaze to the fire. For whatever reason, she couldn’t bring herself to look Luna in the eye. How long had the other woman been awake? How much had she heard?
Finally, it dawned on her why she was avoiding the Oracle’s gaze: it was from a sense of guilt.
From her seat in the sidecar, Lunafreya glanced over at Sol. The young woman’s brow was still furrowed, the same troubled expression she’d worn all throughout the day before.
At least her driving seemed to be more focused. There was no way to avoid the daemons that ambushed them without warning from the roadsides, but by keeping a careful lookout, they could spot and circle around ones that appeared directly on the road ahead. Every time Lunafreya noticed a suspicious shape in the distance, she alerted Sol. Up until recently, she had not realized that between them, her vision at night was far superior. And now that she knew that fact, she wished she didn’t. It was why she’d stayed quiet before, even though she thought it strange that Sol seemed not to notice the daemons Lunafreya could see so easily.
However, as Sol was clearly anxious to reach their destination, the fewer daemon encounters they had, the better. And so Lunafreya decided it was more important to do everything that she could to help rather than try to conceal her monstrous powers.
Thanks to Lunafreya’s efforts, the time they spent dealing with daemons dropped dramatically, and they reached Nohm before evening.
Once she saw the station building at Nohm, it clicked. She’d been here before, prior to her ascension. It must have been ten years ago―or, rather, twenty years in this new world she’d awoken into. But the sight brought not a sense of nostalgia so much as one of unease. In the past, this station had been a lively place, with throngs of people filing into or out of the trains stopped at its numerous platforms. Not a hint of those days remained.
Even more disconcerting was the fact that every window of the station building was dark.
“Why are they . . . ?”
Sol, too, seemed unable to hide her confusion. Sol had been the one to tell her about Nohm, describing it as one of the more important outposts in the area, with a permanent Hunter garrison and windows always shining with light. She’d even talked about how relieved she always felt as she approached the place, seeing those reassuring lights as she pulled up to the building.
The lack of lights now had them both worried. When they walked closer, they saw several of the windows had been smashed.
“What could have happened here?”
“Isn’t it obvious? The outpost was attacked.”
Lunafreya’s voice trembled. “May the gods watch over us.”
Sol explained, “It doesn’t happen a lot, but it’s not unheard of. Sometimes daemons show up in force and wreak havoc on an outpost.”
After Sol cautiously peered through several windows, she returned to the main entrance. She kicked the door in, gun held at the ready, and cautiously walked through the doorway. Lunafreya sensed no daemons inside, lying in ambush, but neither did she feel any presence of human life.
She followed after Sol, stepping inside the station building. What she saw was disconcerting. Every chair had been toppled over, the walls and tables punctured with so many bullet holes their surfaces resembled a wasp’s nest. There were gouges and scorch marks on the floors. Clearly there had been a battle here, an intense one between hunter and daemon, and probably more than just one.
“Luna. Let’s get moving.”
Sol delivered the curt order and spun on her heel, heading back outside the building. Lunafreya hurried to follow. She would have liked to shut the doo
r behind her, but the force of Sol’s kick had bent the hinges, preventing it from closing properly.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Not sure yet.”
As they walked, Sol pulled from her pocket the same small transceiver that Lunafreya had seen her use before, the thing she referred to as her “smartphone.”
“I’ll call in and find out where the next rendezvous point―”
Sol stopped mid-sentence with a gasp and came to an abrupt halt. Lunafreya’s skin prickled as she picked up the sounds both of things crawling across the ground and of wings cutting through air. Vague shapes lurked in the darkness. She sensed they’d been surrounded.
The assault began from above. Sol didn’t even have time to draw a gun, so Lunafreya flung her right hand up in haste. A repulsive sensation writhed its way along her arm, but she didn’t have time to be disgusted by it now.
A shotgun blast rang out. Sol had managed to grab her primary weapon, but even that wasn’t going to be enough to deal with this many enemies. Lunafreya realized that it was up to her to stop the daemons. She focused the power into her palms. The flying daemon that had grappled onto her arm crashed down right in front of her eyes.
It’s all right. I can do this, she told herself.
She took down a daemon lunging in from the side, then swept forward to cover Sol’s back. Her companion would not suffer even a single scratch; she swore it would be so.
She remembered the look in Sol’s eyes when the young woman related how she’d been left with nothing, the broken sound of her voice when she’d demanded to know what had kept the gods from hearing her pleas. At the time Lunafreya had wished desperately to help, to do anything to understand and ease Sol’s grief. She wanted to protect her new friend.
The moment the thought entered her mind, something inside her burst free. The very flow of time seemed to change. She could see the daemons about her frozen in mid-motion, and in this moment, she felt as though she could destroy any of them simply with a glance. The daemons in the air crashed to the ground, Lunafreya waving away the clouds of miasma they left behind, already intent on finding her next prey.
She continued to rip apart each and every black mass that lunged toward her. It was exhilaratingly easy, like crushing clumps of dirt between her fingers. She was hunting the daemons one by one―no, cleansing them from the world. Collecting trash, piece by piece.
Faster. More. She had to take more!
“Luna, what have you . . . ?”
At the sound of Sol’s voice, she snapped back to reality. She looked around, but there were no more daemons.
She’d destroyed them. Every single one. With her own two hands.
Lunafreya’s legs buckled, and she collapsed unconscious to the ground.
When Lunafreya had collapsed, it was not from fear. It wasn’t until a while later that she understood why, but the cause of her weakness was the scale of what she’d done. She’d absorbed so much scourge in so little time her body was overwhelmed.
The darkness inside her would never dissipate. The more of the sickness she absorbed, the more sway it held over her. It pulsated and writhed within her, looking for any chance to take control.
Yet she still remained blessed with the healing powers of the Oracle. She’d been drawing on those powers unconsciously to help stay the tiny thrashing creatures within her.
That must have been the reason why she was chosen by the Draconian: her ability to withstand the scourge. A regular human being without divine powers of healing would simply succumb―once the scourge entered their body, they would quickly turn into a daemon. In contrast, the Oracle’s power could counterbalance that of the scourge, which made her an ideal choice.
“Are you okay?” Sol peered into Lunafreya’s eyes, handing her a mug with a steaming liquid inside. Lunafreya nodded weakly and accepted the hot drink.
After the battle at Nohm, Sol had apparently managed to carry the comatose Lunafreya back inside the station building. Not only that, she’d restarted the generator and restored light to the interior.
“I don’t really know what I’m doing when it comes to making tea,” Sol apologized. “Getting it right’s harder than I thought.”
“I am sure it is lovely. Thank you.”
Lunafreya took a sip. The tea was in fact a bit more bitter than she cared for―which meant that for Sol, it must have been nearly undrinkable.
“The aroma is most pleasing,” Lunafreya said, “As is the warmth.”
Sol smiled and replied, “That’s exactly what I thought. Figured you might appreciate it, especially now.” Lunafreya realized it was true. Back at the signal cabin, where they’d found the teapot, Sol had fumbled for a way to compliment Lunafreya’s efforts, eventually settling on the comforting smell.
“Do you think maybe . . . ?” Sol began, staring deep into the mug in her hand. “Do you think maybe, if you keep absorbing daemons the way you’ve been doing, you might lose your mind or something? Could you end up becoming one? If so . . . would it be better for all of us―you, me, the rest of humanity―if I killed you now?”
The words were sinister, but the tone was not. Sol made no movement to draw her guns. It was not the tense mood of that first evening over cups of tea, when Sol had still been careful to keep her weapons within easy reach.
“I wonder about that as well. Whether it is necessary for me to become a monster in order to stop them. I find myself . . . uncertain why the gods would put such a calling on my shoulders.”
Lunafreya understood that the power she wielded was necessary to stop the daemons. But it seemed stopping the daemons might well cause her to become one. It was a terrifying thought that filled her with dread. She trusted in the gods, but still, she could not dispel her unease.
“Tell me,” Sol said. “What do you want to do?”
“It is the duty of the Oracle to aid the king of Lucis, so I―”
“That’s not what I asked,” Sol cut in. “I don’t care about the duty of the Oracle. I’m asking about you. The woman sitting in front of me. What does Lunafreya want to do? Y’know, stuff you like, that you’re into but didn’t get a chance to do before.”
“I . . . ” Lunafreya trailed off, uncertain how to answer.
“Isn’t there something? Anything you wanna do not because you have to but ’cause you enjoy it?” Sol quirked a smile. “Hobbies? Clothes? Fine dining?”
She’d never even considered experimenting with her clothing. All she needed were garments that were clean and chaste, inoffensive to the people she would serve.
Although, there might have been one exception . . . A wedding dress. She’d had one once, and she’d been eagerly awaiting the day she might wear it, for on that day, she would stand beside Noctis and . . .
Sol seemed to read her mind. “For example,” the younger woman said, “maybe you want to spend time with the king?”
Yes. She’d had one wish, which she’d hoped so desperately might be fulfilled but which had never been. She wanted to be with the person who was most dear to her, to spend her life together with the man she loved. She’d sacrificed that wish to her duty as the Oracle and had passed from the world with it unrealized. An empty, lonely, mournful feeling had filled her on that day. It had been so much worse than when they were torn away from each other as children in Tenebrae. She could feel the ache in her heart even now.
“I did once dream,” Lunafreya said, “of spending my days together with Noctis. That would have been more than enough happiness for me.”
“Well, look at that. So there is something you want for yourself.”
“But . . . ”
“So what’s the problem? There’s something you want, and now you’ve got a second shot at making it happen. How about instead of telling yourself you can’t have it, you forget about the gods and this calling or whatever and focus on what you
want out of life?”
Lunafreya hesitated. It was in order to fulfill this calling that she had been granted life anew. If she abandoned her duty, could not the god who bestowed that life just as easily take it away? And there was another, arguably more significant issue.
“I know not what I am anymore,” Lunafreya confessed. “Am I human? A monster?”
She looked down at her open palms―the same palms that had drawn in more scourge than she cared to fathom. With a power like this, could she still be called human at all?
“I can’t give you any answers about what exactly you are. But I do know what you’ve done. If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead right now.”
Sol’s hesitation was marked, and her words carefully chosen. She didn’t try to claim that Lunafreya was human in a facile attempt to reassure her. But neither did Sol seem inclined to deem her a monster outright.
“If you ask me, I say to hell with all this Oracle stuff. Who cares about some damn calling? The Oracle died ten years ago. The person I see before me right now is just a woman. Her name is Luna. She’s crazy strong, but otherwise, she’s a person like anyone else, and she wants to be back with the guy she loves.”
On hearing Sol’s words, Lunafreya felt the burden weighing her down lessen slightly. She was not free of her worries, and the physical pain and discomfort persisted as before. Not a thing had changed about her present situation, but even so, she felt a surge of determination to go on.
“Sol . . . thank you for your kind words. Once again, I find myself in your debt.”
“Hey, could you, uh, cut it out with the ‘I’m in your debt’ stuff?”
“Why?”
She was reminded of the last time she’d said similar words to Sol. The younger woman had turned away then, clearly put out.
“It’s the kind of thing people say before they up and die on you.”
“What do you mean?”
