The Dawn of the Future

by Jun Eishima

  　“Can someone remind me why we didn’t just take the elevator?” Prompto let out a heavy sigh as the four trudged up flight after flight of an emergency stairway. “Y’know, instead of trying to climb our way to heaven one step at a time?”

  　Even Gladio was breathing hard, though apparently not so much as to forgo baiting Prompto. “Yeah, it’s a damn mystery. Think it has anything to do with the Citadel being turned into a makeshift airship?”

  　“Right. Forgot about that,” Prompto replied. Then, “Hey, Iggy, you doin’ all right back there?”

  　“Tryin’ to use Ignis to score a break? That’s low.”

  　“Am I that easy to read?”

  　“Like a billboard.”

  　“Whatever. I’m fine. I could keep this up all day.”

  　“We’ll see about that. In case you hadn’t noticed, there hasn’t been a day in years.”

  　The situation was dire, but on hearing his friends’ banter, Noctis couldn’t help but smile. The sense of urgency and worry did not lift, but they no longer seemed to weigh so heavily against Noctis’s chest.

  　Looking back, very little of the journey they’d embarked on had gone as expected, and feelings among the four were hardly in perfect harmony the whole way. There had been disagreements, confrontations, and any number of tense moments. His sense of duty as the king had of course kept Noctis going, but even more important was the fact that he―that all of them―kept the faith that good times would follow bad. However much things hurt today, there would always be a tomorrow for them to heal. No matter how big the fight, they’d always reconcile.

  　“Noct.” Ignis’s hand landed lightly on Noctis’s back. “It will be all right. We shall surely make it in time.”

  　Just like now. His friends were the ones who helped him see that there was always hope.

  　“I know,” he said and patted Ignis’s shoulder in response.

  　When they finally reached the uppermost floor of the Citadel and emerged onto the roof, the darkness outside had grown so thick as to be stifling. The concentrated power of the scourge was palpable.

  　Lunafreya’s strange song continued uninterrupted. The casting circle had begun to flicker at erratic intervals. It was plain that the spell was nearing completion. Teraflare was almost upon them.

  　“Great. We’re here. Now how are we supposed to stop it?” Prompto asked uncertainly.

  　“No clue,” responded Gladio. “But we gotta try. I’m guessing we can’t just pick her up and walk on outta here.”

  　The words had barely left his mouth when a whistling sound descended, like blades slicing through air. The avatars. It seemed Bahamut deemed the rooftop far enough away from the Crystal to risk a fight―or close enough to Lunafreya that there wasn’t any other choice.

  　“Noct, you’ve no time for the riffraff. Leave them to us,” Ignis instructed.

  　“Right,” Noctis said, and hurled his sword at one of the foes gliding near. In a flash, he’d reached it and was aiming again. The only way he could get to Lunafreya was through warping, but she was too high above the rooftop to be in direct range. So he would have to go from enemy to enemy, using them like stepping stones through sky. As Noctis streaked from one foe to the next, he felt bladed wings brush against his arms and torso. Pain seared through him, but he did not slow. If he stopped, he would fall.

  　“Luna!” he cried. She was close now. But haste made him careless―an enemy he’d thought firmly within his grip suddenly twisted, and Noctis was tumbling through open air. By the time he realized what had happened, the wind was already roaring in his ears.

  　He tried to level his aim for another warp-strike but caught only air. He was falling too fast. Bitterness welled up within him. So this was how it ended. What a waste.

  　As his heart cried out that it was not ready for the end, a new voice boomed in his ears.

  　“Rise, O Chosen. The pact with the Oracle shall be honored.”

  　A funnel of flame twisted about Noctis, breaking his fall.

  　“The Infernian?” Noctis wondered aloud. “Ifrit offers me aid?”

  　Before he could wonder why, a vision played in his mind. It was like the other times he’d received a divine blessing: he saw Lunafreya’s labors as she forged the covenant. This time she stood face-to-face with the God of Fire. Her skin was the same inky black Noctis had seen in the throne room. Although she had already turned physically, at the time of the vision, she still seemed to retain consciousness. Noctis heard her plea, Let the king have your blessing!

  　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.

  　She shouted it at the top of her lungs, her legs quaking beneath her. She was barely managing to stand. Every bit of strength in her body and soul was gathered tightly and expended for sake of the king, as she had always done. And now once again, as Noctis plummeted through open sky, it was Lunafreya’s action that brought him aid.

  　This time, he would not lose her. He swore in his heart that he would see her safe.

  　“The revelation of Ifrit is at hand,” the Infernian proclaimed, and Noctis felt himself rising high into the air, buoyed by the god’s roaring flames. He was headed straight toward Lunafreya.

  　Noctis glanced down, seeing not only the Infernian below, but also Shiva, the Glacian.

  　“The gods have heard the Oracle’s prayer. Let the Promised King receive aid divine,” she announced.

  　And then the other gods of the trials appeared: Titan, the Archaean; Ramuh, the Fulgurian; and Leviathan, the Hydraean. The five gods that existed alongside the Star, gathered under darkened sky.

  　“Luna! I’m almost there!” Noctis called.

  　Another moment and he’d be at her side. Just a little farther . . .

  The Darkness waxes full.

  　The Draconian’s booming voice shook both heaven and earth. The intricate casting circles around Lunafreya expanded outward to touch the twelve summoned blades. From each of the blades came a blinding flare: each was as the sun at midday, a ball of burning light and heat.

  Go forth, O Blades. Wreak destruction upon the foolish insolence below.

  　He was too late. Noctis looked on in horror as twelve orbs of fierce incandescence descended upon the land. The orbs grew brighter yet, until Noctis could keep his eyes open no longer.

  　“The time is come. Defend the Star!”

  　The Glacian’s cry shook the surroundings. Noctis heard the rumble of earth, the crackle of lightning, the roar of waves, and the blaze of hellfire. Even with his eyes closed, bright white light filled his vision. He had no hope of seeing what was going on. He could only hear and feel the clash and collision of massive entities locked in battle.

  　Five gods fought against the catastrophe unleashed by the sixth. Though Noctis had been told it would be so, still he was frozen in shock. He hadn’t arrived in time. Grief overcame him. He felt strength leave his limbs and his body fall limp.

  　The silence that followed fell suddenly and completely, as if all sound were gone from the world. Slowly, vision returned to Noctis’s eyes. Far in the distance, he saw a crumbled mountain. The glowing red lava flowing around the rubble told him it had once been the Rock of Ravatogh. If so, that meant the vast empty space stretching out before the peak was once the ridged crater of the Disc of Cauthess. No trace of the Disc remained, as if the land there had been scooped away entirely. At the edge of the destruction, he saw the cityscape of Lestallum.

  　In the Great War of Old, four of the Six had managed to protect the Star from the threat of Teraflare. This time, five had resisted, and even then their combined power fell short of stopping it. Yet the gods had done well. They had averted complete devastation. That some portion of Eos still suffered was testament to the overwhelming intensity of Teraflare’s power.

  　Their five divine saviors lay strewn across the land, face
down, unmoving. The Draconian’s voice came down from on high, mocking their weariness and pain.

  Mortal fools shielded by fools divine.

  The five on the Star are spent, and to what end?

  So be it. Since folly persists, those devoted to it may perish alongside their wards.

  　The Draconian’s voice was firm and strong; he seemed untroubled by weakness or fatigue. Lunafreya’s plan had failed. Teraflare had been cast, but the Draconian’s strength had not been sapped. He had not drifted into slumber. The Bladekeeper, it seemed, was not so easily overcome.

  　Somehow, Noctis had been returned to the Citadel courtyard.

  　“Luna!” he called, scanning the surroundings. “Where are you?!”

  　He flicked his gaze up, to the place where the casting circle had been moments before. Lunafreya still hung there, her skin deathly pale, as if all the darkness she’d harbored had been drawn out and consumed by the terrible spell. New worry crept into Noctis’s mind. What if the spell had sapped her vitality as well? Was she still alive? He tried to banish the dire thought from his mind, to focus on the moment.

  　Lunafreya’s body lurched to one side.

  　“No!” Noctis shouted.

  　He ran across the courtyard. She was slipping from the sky, soon to plummet far to the ground below, discarded by the Draconian like garbage; her usefulness for the spell had been expended, and the god had no need of her now. Noctis’s mind flared with anger at the god who allowed her to fall. The Bladekeeper saw them all as nothing more than pawns to be used and thrown away.

  　Noctis sprang into the air, leaping up off the edge of the Citadel’s floating island. Please let me catch her, he begged silently, arms outstretched. He felt his fingertips graze Lunafreya’s body and poured all his strength into his arms, reaching desperately to draw her in. Suddenly, her full weight was settled against his chest. He’d caught her. But now both of them were hurtling toward the ground far below.

  　Noctis twisted in the air to face the Citadel and flung his blade at it. Without a clear line of sight, he had no sense of where the sword lodged itself and thus no idea where they were warping.

  　With Lunafreya still held tight in his arms, he felt himself slam against a mercilessly hard surface. And then the world went dark.

  She heard a voice calling her name yet again. Luna.

  　It was a voice she could not place at first.

  　A field of sylleblossoms extended in every direction, as far as the eye could see. The flowers gently bowed and nodded in the breeze. Lunafreya stood alone.

  　The sky was still dim but seemed to be growing brighter, as if dawn approached. But the flowers at her feet were not touched with morning dew, nor could she smell their fragrance. They were simply there in sight, the familiar blossoms fluttering in the wind.

  　This is a dream, she thought. I’m almost certain of it.

  　The light grew. It reminded her of her beloved, as if his smile had turned to rays of warmth.

  　“Noctis!” she cried out.

  　“Luna!” she heard him reply, and then she saw the Noctis she had known as a child, when she was twelve and he was eight. She looked down at herself and realized that she, too, was again a child.

  　“So you came to see me once more,” she said.

  　“Yeah. Just like I said I would,” he replied.

  　There was that smile she loved, the one that had been in her heart all these years, giving her strength, always and forever.

  　“It was all our friends,” Noctis said. “They brought me to you.”

  　He announced it with a hint of pride. You are blessed to be surrounded by such wonderful people, she began to say, when she realized that she, too, was blessed to have such good companions at her side.

  　“I . . . ” She hesitated. “I, too, made it here thanks to much help from others.”

  　A gust of wind snatched up some of the sylleblossoms, sending petals swirling about. Flower and light filled her vision, and she involuntarily shut her eyes against the glare. The wind stopped. Lunafreya opened her eyes.

  　Before her now stood the man. Oh, how she had longed to see him.

  　“My dearest Noctis . . . ”

  　There was a mountain of things she wanted to tell him. She knew the time they had would not suffice for even a small portion, but she could at least say the most important.

  　“As Oracle, I lived bound to my calling before all. But now my eyes are open. In the short time I shared with Sol, I finally learned to value the words in my heart. And that is why . . . ”

  　Noctis gave a nod, as if encouraging her to continue.

  　“That is why I was finally able to choose freedom, to dedicate my life to my own desires, rather than surrender it to calling or command. I was able to live for me.”

  　“Luna . . . ” His voice was soft and gentle.

  　Yes. This was Noctis’s voice. This was how he sounded now that he was grown. She’d never had a chance to hear it before, but strangely, she somehow knew it already. Why?

  　“This may be our true and final parting, so please, allow me to speak from my heart.”

  　It was strange that she should know his voice, but it did not matter. All she cared about was that he was here, before her eyes, and she’d been granted one last chance to tell him how she truly felt. It was all she could ask for.

  　“Noctis, would that I could live by your side.”

  　The sylleblossoms began to blur, and the petals in the wind seemed to melt and wash away. Lunafreya sank, headed for the ocean floor.

  　“Noctis!” she cried, thrusting one hand out.

  　It was the moment she had died in Altissia, replaying all over again.

  　“Luna!”

  　But unlike that day in Altissia, this time she could hear him. His voice reached her with perfect clarity.

  　“Then live!” he shouted. “Stay with me forever!”

  　Lunafreya’s eyes opened wide. She strained upward, reaching toward him with all her strength. She did not want to be pulled away from him. Not again. Not this time.

  　Her outstretched fingers swept through the water.

  　She felt them brush against something surprisingly warm.

  Then live! Stay with me forever!

  　The sound of Noctis’s own shout stirred him awake. He’d been with Lunafreya in a sylleblossom field, and then it had been that terrible day in Altissia, with her body sinking beneath the waves, his hand stretched out toward her.

  　Noctis, would that I could live by your side.

  　Had he imagined those words? Was it another dream? This time, he thought for certain he’d managed to grab hold of her hand. He remembered the feeling of her soft skin and delicate wrists.

  　“Noct, are you all right?”

  　He opened his eyes. A concerned-looking Prompto sat on the ground next to him, peering into his face. Beyond Prompto’s shoulders, he saw Gladio and Ignis.

  　“I’m fine,” he said, head beginning to clear. “How about you guys? Holding up?”

  　His Shield was the one to answer. “Remember who you’re talking to. Who’s gonna stop the three of us?”

  　Noctis tried to lift himself upright. That was when he realized he was still holding Lunafreya securely in his arms.

  　“Luna?!” he exclaimed in surprise.

  　Her eyes were shut, and her face was deathly pale. Noctis pressed his fingers to her neck. Her pulse felt weak and somewhat erratic, but it was there. Lunafreya was unconscious but alive. She was alive.

  　Relief swept through Noctis’s body. He’d managed to make it after all. This time, he’d gotten her back.

  　“Are you able to stand?” Ignis asked.

  　“Yeah.”

  　He didn’t have time to be sitting around. He gently laid Lunafreya on the ground beside him, then hauled himself to his feet.

  　“Looks like you guys took a beating.”

  　All three o
f his retainers were badly bruised and scratched. On recovering consciousness, Noctis’s first thought had been of their safety. Gladio had brushed off his concern with his usual brazen air, but Noctis wasn’t fooled. Their battle with the avatars wouldn’t have been an easy one.

  　“Mind looking after Luna for a bit?” asked Noctis.

  　The battle wasn’t over yet. Bahamut had neither fallen into slumber nor depleted his strength. However, it occurred to Noctis that the conspicuous absence of the avatars in the sky suggested that Teraflare had drained the Draconian more than he was letting on.

  　It was Prompto who voiced the group’s concern.

  　“We’ll take care of her,” he began, but added, “You sure you’re gonna be all right on your own?”

  　Noctis needed to take the fight to the sky. To get up there, he’d have to warp. He would’ve preferred to take his companions along, but it wasn’t an option. They’d have to stay behind.

  　Noctis gave a decisive nod. “Yeah. I got this.”

  　He had a promise to Lunafreya to uphold. One he had made way back when they were kids, sitting beside each other in the manor at Tenebrae. Lunafreya had explained that only the True King, anointed by the Crystal, could purge the Star of its scourge.

  　She’d promised to help him see it through, and he’d responded, I won’t let you down.

  　When he’d said it, a glow of happiness touched Lunafreya’s cheeks.

  　Today, he’d see that promise kept, along with their new promise, to be together forevermore.

  　Noctis set his sights on the Bladekeeper, floating proudly in the sky high above.

  “Irony. The one thing of which life is never in short supply,” Ardyn grumbled, as he climbed the steps to the Lucian throne.

  　He’d never had the honor of sitting the throne. In fact, it was the denial of it that had prompted him to walk the path of darkness, stained red with blood. As he awaited Noctis’s return from the Crystal, he’d established himself in Insomnia, making a point of lounging upon the throne as an affront to all, to emphasize that it was merely a chair like any other. That it was not his place to sit was the sum of its appeal.