The Dawn of the Future

by Jun Eishima

  　“Yes,” Lunafreya chimed in. “Let us put an end to this. Together.”

  　Using the sound of the firing projectile as her cue, Lunafreya began a flat-out sprint toward Sapphire Weapon. The grenade explosion shook the cavern but didn’t seem to do much damage to its target. The juggernaut leaned slightly to one side, but that was the extent of the impact.

  　They’d have to stick with the fundamentals and create an opening for an assault on the core. Hopefully that would prove effective, but if not, they would be forced to try another course of action.

  　“Sol!” she called out, “Concentrate on the right leg!”

  　If they could restrict its movement, that might give Lunafreya a location from which to absorb the scourge.

  　“Heads up!” Sol called back. “Dodge left!”

  　Lunafreya dove forward and left, flattening herself to the ground. She felt a blast wave wash over her back. Sol’s grenade had found the target exactly where Lunafreya wanted it, exploding on the monster’s right leg.

  　Sapphire Weapon shook its massive limb, stamping its feet like an enormous toddler. Lunafreya had hoped Sol’s attack might strip away part of the thick carapace shielding the creature’s body. They were making progress, but a single grenade wasn’t going to be sufficient.

  　“Again!” she called.

  　She backed off, avoiding the giant, crushing feet, then flung herself against the ground once more. Another explosion. Another hot wave rushing by. This time, the attack elicited an earsplitting, inhuman scream. Sol’s shout confirmed, “It’s working!”

  　Lunafreya jumped back to her feet and closed in. She saw where the carapace had been ripped away, exposing the inside of the magitek creation’s leg. Flesh the color of rotten meat bulged out from the gash.

  　This is my chance, Lunafreya thought, and stretched out a palm. She felt the familiar numbness crawl along her right arm, then wham―she was flying backward. When she came to, she was lying on the ground, back stinging from the impact. She coughed.

  　“Luna!” Sol called. “Are you all right?!”

  　She held up a hand to halt Sol’s dash forward.

  　“Keep going! I’m fine!”

  　Sapphire Weapon’s wounds were already beginning to mend. They couldn’t afford to let up on the assault. Not even for a moment.

  　“Incoming!” Sol shouted, and Luna rolled onto her stomach, shielding her face. Once the next blast wave had passed, she was up in an instant and running to where the grenade had hit.

  　This time, she managed to pull out a proper amount of scourge. Fire coursed through her arm. It felt like she might be consumed from the inside out. She grit her teeth against the searing pain and shouted back, “Sol! Don’t stop! Keep firing!”

  　“Are you nuts?! I might hit you!”

  　“Just do it!”

  　Lunafreya’s powers alone weren’t going to be enough to stop Sapphire Weapon. And the monster’s capacity to heal itself wasn’t helping things.

  　“While I’m keeping it busy down here, aim for the core!” she shouted.

  　Sapphire Weapon was even stronger than they’d imagined. They’d have to fire on its weak point while simultaneously drawing out its daemonic energies. They didn’t have any other choice.

  　But Lunafreya found herself flying backward once again, absorption interrupted.

  　“One more time!” she shouted to Sol.

  　First, the explosion on the right leg. Then the dash in to start pulling out the scourge―this time even more intensely than before. She had to keep the monster still.

  　She saw a first, second, then third projectile bound for Sapphire Weapon’s head. While bracing against the impact and quake of the blast, Lunafreya let her power loose to an extent she never had before. Tremendous streams of scourge poured into her body. She couldn’t stop the scream that tore from her throat, and gripping tight onto her consciousness, desperate to keep from fainting, she steeled herself against the torrent. A ceaseless drumming sound like the fall of a hard rain filled the space around her. Her ears rang so loudly she could hardly hear anything else.

  　As her vision began to cloud over, she saw one more projectile arcing from Sol directly toward the core.

  　Good, she thought. There’s the fatal blow.

  　Suddenly, Lunafreya’s body was thrown to the side. The world came back into focus. No, she realized, I wasn’t thrown. I’ve fallen. Her hearing returned, and she found that someone was shouting her name. The numbness receded, and she could feel again. She realized arms were wrapped around her, propping her up.

  　“Luna! We did it! We finished it off!”

  　“Wonderful . . . ” Lunafreya replied weakly.

  　Her breath came shallow, but her body continued to hold against the mass of scourge swarming inside. She’d done it. They’d done it. They’d succeeded in destroying Sapphire Weapon.

  　“Do not worry about me,” Lunafreya said. “Go. Your mother needs you.”

  　According to Biggs and Wedge, the order to withdraw was the last communication received from Aranea’s unit. They were somewhere in the farthest depths of the ruins, surrounded by daemons, without any means of escape. They’d not been heard from since. As Lunafreya and Sol were now in the ruin’s deepest chamber, Aranea had to be nearby.

  　“You must find her. Hurry,” Lunafreya said. She could feel it. More than just a fear of what might be, it was a certainty: if Sol did not find her mother soon, it would be too late.

  　They’d challenged Sapphire Weapon, and no one else had joined the fray. If Sol’s mother were able, would she not have rushed to her daughter’s aid? The fact that she had not was an ill sign.

  　But Sol seemed already on the verge of tears.

  　“Luna,” she said, her shoulders trembling slightly even as she stood straight and tall.

  　“Look . . . ”

  　Sol pointed a shaking finger. Luna turned her head to look. The dust had settled, and Sapphire Weapon’s hulking form was deteriorating. The expanse of the cavern was again visible, and there, in the direction indicated by Sol, stood another daemon. It was of height similar to Sol’s, and it was―or at least, it had been―clearly female. On its back was a spear. Silver-white hair adorned the daemon’s head. It was the same color Sol had mentioned when describing her mother’s hair on the way to the ruins.

  　“It’s Mom . . . ” Sol said, slumping to the ground. “She . . . she’s . . . ”

  　Lunafreya’s fears had been correct. Before them stood Aranea. Perhaps the mercenary had already known what was happening to her when she gave the order to withdraw and seal the entrance. Perhaps the scourge had been consuming her body even as the words left her mouth.

  　“Allow me to take care of this,” Lunafreya said.

  　Her legs had been so weak she thought she might not walk again for some time, but resolve brought new strength. Lunafreya stood and headed toward the daemon Aranea.

  　She heard a faint rasping voice as she drew near. “Stay away.”

  　It seemed the woman still retained some portion of her conscience.

  　“What do you mean, you’ll take care of it?” Sol asked, voice trembling.

  　“I’ll draw out the scourge. It’s not too late. Once she’s rid of the disease, she’ll be back to normal.”

  　Sol’s eyes widened. For Lunafreya, too, it was a use of her new powers she hadn’t considered before their arrival in this place. But there, before the statue of the first Oracle, Lunafreya had witnessed Ardyn’s past. The man had once been hailed as a savior. With the same power that Lunafreya held now, he’d healed countless people.

  　“But you’re weak,” Sol protested. “You’ve already just drawn in all that―”

  　“I will be fine,” Lunafreya cut her off. “After all, I am meant to save the world.”

  　She turned to Sol’s tear-streaked face and gave a smile. Ten years ago, the gods had failed to respond to this girl’s fe
rvent prayers. Sol had demanded to know whether they even heard or cared to answer. It was finally time to give her the answer she deserved.

  　“Luna, I’m sorry to ask you to do this for me,” Sol sobbed. “But please . . . Please save her. She raised me. She’s my only mother in this world!”

  　Lunafreya nodded. She turned back to face the daemon Aranea and stretched both arms wide in an embrace. She drew in the scourge―every part of her body absorbing it this time. She felt her breath catch in her throat. The tiny creatures already swarming in her body all began to thrash about at once. Lunafreya’s shriek of pain came out as a guttural, beastly cry, and she clenched her teeth together.

  　Ardyn saved hundreds upon hundreds of lives. What about me? I still haven’t saved a single one. If I manage nothing else with this life, let me at least save this one person so dear to Sol.

  　The scourge was flowing in even faster than before. The power was amplified to new heights, beyond Lunafreya’s control. Darkness crept over her vision. Soon the world was painted black, and the only thing to penetrate her senses came with a strange clarity: a high-pitched cry of “Mom!”

  　Aranea’s body was pulled away. That action, too, seemed to come from somewhere else. Lunafreya had not released her; though she willed her limbs to move, they remained still. But the scourge had all been drawn out. Of that, at least, she was certain.

  　“Sol? Where . . . ? What happened to me?”

  　This was a new voice, one Lunafreya did not know. She wanted to turn toward it, to confirm it was that of the person she hoped, but her neck was as stiff and unresponsive as her limbs.

  　The Oracle’s body was no longer her own. But her vision slowly returned, and she looked as far as her unmoving eyes would allow, discovering patches of black-stained, disgustingly swollen skin. Her skin. Despair and regret snaked through her chest. She wished she had not seen.

  　“It was Luna! She saved you!” she heard Sol exclaim.

  　No, she wanted to scream, don’t look. But her throat was frozen, too. She wanted to run, to leave this place and hide. She cursed her rigid arms and legs.

  　“Who’s Luna?”

  　Aranea turned around, and Luna could see her face. She watched as the woman’s expression shifted, filled half with fear and half with loathing.

  　Sol seemed to sense it, too.

  　“No! Mom! Stop!” she called, but Aranea was already brushing her daughter aside, one hand reaching for the lance at her back.

  　“Get the hell away from my daughter, you monster.”

  　Blue sparks arced across Lunafreya’s single frozen pane of vision. There was a horrible noise, together with the shock of impact.

  　And then there was nothing.

  “The thing’s a daemon, for gods’ sake!”

  　Sol stood with her ear pressed against the hotel room door. Apparently, years ago the old Leville had been the lodgings of choice for Prince Noctis and his retinue whenever they passed through Lestallum. Now the building served as headquarters for the Kingsglaive and Hunters. Sol wondered how the prince―or rather, the king―might feel if he knew of the discussion happening in the building now, one meant to decide the fate of his long-lost fiancée.

  　“I think she’s the real deal. Daemon-form or whatever, that’s the Oracle in there.”

  　Now Aranea was speaking. It was nice to hear her defending Luna, but Sol still thought bitterly of how things might have been different. If only her mother hadn’t jumped to the conclusion that the woman she’d faced in the cavern was a monster.

  　No, Sol thought. It was my fault. I didn’t explain the situation well enough. She should have begun by immediately telling her mother what had happened: Luna had drawn out the scourge. She’d saved Aranea. Or maybe this outcome could have been avoided if Sol had referred to her as “Lady Lunafreya, the Oracle,” instead of by nickname alone.

  　At any rate, she’d failed to convey to her mother that Luna was a friend and ally. As a child, Aranea had lost her family to daemons, and her hatred of them was old and deep. When she saw what looked to be a daemon near Sol, she’d acted instinctively to protect her daughter. And who could blame her?

  　Once Sol realized what was happening, she’d raced to stop it and explain the situation. Sol’s pained expression as she watched the scene unfold, along with the fact that Luna remained motionless, taking the full brunt of the Stoss Spear’s first and only blow, seemed to make Aranea realize there had been a mistake, but it was too little too late.

  　Worse, Aranea’s initial shouts had brought Glaives and hunters running. Once other people were involved, no amount of explanation or pleading was going to suffice.

  　After all, what they encountered on arrival was just some vaguely human-shaped thing wrapped entirely in pitch-black miasma. Lunafreya had been unable to speak or even stand by that point. The only reason she wasn’t dispatched on sight was because Aranea had stepped in. “Sol claims this woman is the Oracle, and I can’t say for certain that she’s not,” her mother had said. “This is a call we need to leave up to the brass.” And so she’d urged them all to head back to Lestallum, where they’d settle the matter.

  　Lunafreya was slapped into restraints and carried back to Lestallum via dropship. Sol, not permitted to ride along, raced after them as fast as she could on Regina.

  　“If she truly is the Oracle, I assure you that’s blood we don’t want on our hands.”

  　Aranea was doing everything she could to keep Luna alive. She seemed to feel no small amount of responsibility now that her own savior was bound and locked away. But the way Aranea said it―overemphasizing the word “truly”―seemed more for her own benefit than for the others engaged in the argument. Aranea was still struggling to convince herself. It was a bitter conflict between her hatred of daemons and the recognition that she owed this particular daemon her life, two strong emotions that were hard to reconcile.

  　In any case, the response to Aranea’s sentiment was cold.

  　“We should dispose of it.”

  　Short. Matter-of-fact. That would be Cor.

  　“Assuming she is the real deal, how do you account for her being here at all? Are we supposed to believe she came back to life? Ignis, you were there. You saw her die.”

  　“Yes. Lady Lunafreya most certainly passed from the mortal realm. But . . . ”

  　“But what?”

  　“I also witnessed something else. The Oracle’s body seemed to, ah, vanish that day.”

  　“It ‘vanished’?” This next, rather charged exclamation was undoubtedly from Gladio. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  　“Precisely how it sounds.”

  　“Now that you mention it, I do remember hearing they never found the body . . . ”

  　“Even if she turns out to be the Oracle, that doesn’t get around the fact that she’s become a daemon. We need to get rid of her.”

  　Sol crept away from the door. If things kept going the way they were, Luna was in trouble. Sol had to find a way to save her. Simply breaking her out of confinement wouldn’t be enough. Unlike the former empire, the area around Lestallum was well-populated. Any time spent lingering nearby would mean recapture and death for Luna. Someone would have to remain behind while Luna fled, to keep any potential pursuers occupied.

  　Luna had said she wanted to get to Insomnia. A journey like that required a pretty hefty supply of equipment and food. Fortunately, Sol had refueled Regina when she got into town, and had packed up some equipment and food as well. She’d had a hunch things might turn out this way, from the second she saw the cold and rough way the Glaives and hunters had handled Luna back in Ralmuell. That was why she’d been willing to push Regina to the limit on the road to Lestallum. She’d kept nearly constantly on the move, with only the bare minimum of breaks, then half threw herself and the bike onto a departing ferry. It was due to luck alone that Regina had managed the journey.

  　And as for Lunafreya, Sol owe
d her more than she might ever be able to repay.

  　She wouldn’t let them kill her, no matter what. This was the woman who had answered her prayer, who had saved the only family Sol had left. Now it was Sol’s turn to help see a wish fulfilled.

  Lunafreya knew she was dreaming again. She was clothed in the pure white of her wedding dress. In her hands was a sylleblossom bouquet. Confetti swirled and danced through the air, and the scene was set to a chorus of cheers. Reaching out to take her hand was her beloved―the person she’d waited so long and so desperately to see. Her gaze traveled up from their joined hands, but before she could see his face, consciousness intervened.

  　Another dream, she thought. Why do I continue to torture myself?

  　She squeezed her eyes shut, not to return to sleep but to stave off tears that might know no end. She swore to herself that she would not cry. It was painful as ever to know that she would never be beside Noctis again, but she had managed to bring back the person who meant the world to Sol. That was a wonderful thing. A joyous thing. So there was no need for tears now. She would carry on with pride.

  　“Lady Lunafreya.”

  　A familiar voice reached her ears, sudden and unexpected.

  　Lunafreya’s eyes shot open. Her pitch went high with surprise. “Gentiana!”

  　Then after a moment, she asked, “Is this another dream?”

  　She was not in the hotel at Lestallum. Surrounding her was the same void as before, dark like the color of the deep sea. Gentiana’s form floated amid the black, green, and blue haze.

  　“There is little time. Heed these words.”

  　The High Messenger, always so calm and elegant, seemed unusually rushed.

  　“Do not be deceived by the Bladekeeper’s words,” Gentiana continued. “The Star is in peril, as are its people. To endeavor for the calling is to invite destruction complete.”

  　Lunafreya’s voice trembled. “Gentiana? What are you saying?”

  　“The flow of fate was altered when the Accursed turned from the gods. This much is truth. But the Oracle’s new powers will not stay the Usurper. They have another purpose. The Bladekeeper seeks darkness, for which the Oracle is now a vessel. The Oracle is tasked with harvesting of all of the world’s darkness, including that inside the Accursed.”