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“I . . . swore an oath.” The pain had been instant, fiery. Ancient, raw magic scorching flesh and soul alike.
“An oath you will serve, you not of royal blood.” The voices echoed around him. Through him. “In body, soul, and blood.”
Ignis awoke with a jolt and gasp. He coughed, rolling onto his side. Cold. Everything smelled of soot and salt water. Where . . . ? His body felt stiff as he forced himself to sit up. A blanket fell away from him. The room he sat in was dark and silent. “Hello?” His voice was a hoarse rasp.
Silence answered him.
Ignis cleared his throat. “Noct? Gladio?” When the silence remained, the advisor reached through the Armiger and retrieved his light. The beam cut through the inky darkness, though Ignis almost wished it hadn’t. Bodies wrapped in blankets and curtains and tablecloths surrounded him in the small space. He didn’t have to look closer to know they rested in Etro’s arms now.
Pushing himself to his feet, Ignis scanned the rest of the room. Silver walls, tile floor, a few metal shelves still attached to the walls . . . Was this some kind of cooler? He shivered. The thought of standing in the middle of a makeshift morgue made his stomach twist. I need to find Noct; make sure he’s okay. The last thing he could remember was seeing the prince unconscious on the Tidemother’s altar, pale and drenched.
Walking up to the door, he stopped. There wasn’t a handle on the inside. Ignis tentatively pushed against it. The door didn’t budge. Flexing stiff fingers, he felt the magic flowing through his veins, sparking at his fingertips. The normal, predictable stream surged, exploding out in a shockwave of lightning and crystal shards. The door was wrenched off its hinges in the blast and flew across the room with an echoing bang.
The advisor could only stare, blinking dumbly at the destruction he’d just caused. Lingering magic from the ring, perhaps? He thought weakly. Shaking himself, Ignis took in his new surroundings. It had been a kitchen at one point. Had the thick layer of mud and silt that coated everything not still been wet, it would have been easy to assume the space had been abandoned ages ago. Ignoring the way the mud stuck to his shoes, he made his way through the silent space.
Stumbling out in the street, Ignis froze. What had once been the glimmering city of Altissia now lay in ruins beneath the moonlight. He’d watched Leviathan thrash through the waves in her wrath. All because Noct . . . The advisor shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to be dwelling on that. He needed to find them. Make sure the three of them were alright. That everything he’d done wasn’t in vain. Radio and phone gone from his pockets, finding them may prove to be a tall order. I don’t have a choice.
The silence of the city pressed in around him, broken only by the lapping of waves and creaking of structures now struggling to stand. It was like Etro had covered the lively streets in her shroud and shepherded every soul under her wing.
Brushing away the thought, he picked a direction and walked. He needed to orient himself somehow and find his way back to the Leville. There was no guarantee the hotel had been spared, but it was a starting point in his search. Despite the dark, his glasses lost to the abyss in Leviathan’s rage, Ignis could see the broken streets around him.
A scream cut through the heavy silence. Ignis sprinted towards the sound. Rounding a corner, he only had a few seconds to take in the sight. A ronin with its blade raised. A woman on the ground trying to scoot away. He didn’t think. Wrenching his spear from the aether, Ignis threw it.
CLANG!
His weapon embedded itself in the wall, catching the daemon’s blade midswing.
The towering daemon turned to face him, seeing him despite its blank eyes and featureless face.
Lightning flowing through his summoned daggers, Ignis pressed his attack. A shower of sparks lit up the darkened street as their blades met. He recalled seeing a report mentioning concern over the slowly growing number of daemons in Altissia’s streets and the rise in hunts to cull them. Informants had mentioned the daemons’ appearance coincided with the new additions to the city’s arena.
A wave of dark magic sent him staggering back. Ignis braced himself, barely getting his daggers up in time to catch the incoming sword.
The daemon leaned into its weapon, bearing more and more weight down on him.
He gritted his teeth, muscles straining against the ronin’s strength. Ignis watched the blade inch closer and closer to his shoulder and neck. His magic surged again. Lightning arced down their weapons and into the daemon’s arms. It staggered back. Ignis lunged again and drove his daggers into its chest. Another burst of lightning tore through the ronin and they both crashed to the ground.
A cloud of miasma engulfed him as the ronin fell away into nothing. Ignis slowly got back to his feet, panting as he dismissed his weapons. “Are you alright?” He asked, turning towards the woman and offering a hand to help her up.
“Y-yes, thank--” She started to reach for his hand but froze. The woman stared at him for a long moment before scrambling to her feet and sprinting away.
“Wait!” Ignis twisted, searching behind him to see if any more daemons had been drawn to the fight. The street was empty. “I don’t . . .” He shook his head. He’d wasted enough time, he needed to find his way back to the others.
Ignis pressed forward, wandering the empty streets again in an attempt to regain his bearings. He never saw another person. Thankfully, he never saw another daemon either.
A relieved sigh escaped his lips when he saw the hotel still standing. “Sweet Six,” the phrase left a bitter taste on his tongue after seeing the heartless destruction in Leviathan’s wake. Ignis didn’t pause to greet the lone man standing behind the counter, nor did he bother checking his pockets for keys that had no doubt fallen out. It was only when he reached the door to their suite did the thought cross his mind that they might have already left the city. Driven out by Senator Claustra for the damage they’d caused.
Ignis remembered fighting to keep himself from pacing outside the door to Claustra’s office. She had wanted to meet with Noctis alone. All he could do was trust that his prince - no, king - would be fine without his guidance. Noctis eventually emerged, explaining she agreed to let them go through with the summoning if they helped evacuate the city. A spark of pride burned in the advisor’s chest.
Shaking himself back to the present, Ignis realized he had been standing at the door. He could hear movement inside, a quiet sniffle, a heavy sigh. Ignis knocked. He could feel the ripple of magic from the room in response.
There was a long pause before the door opened and Gladiolus stood in the doorway. The Shield looked pale as he stared at him. “Ignis?” His voice was a breath, a whisper.
Footsteps crashed through the room before Ignis could reply. Prompto shoved his way through the doorway before slamming into him. “Iggy!” The blond"s shoulders shook. “I-- We thought . . .”
“Easy,” Ignis placed a tentative hand on his back. Another ripple of magic through the air. He tensed, nerves screaming danger. Looking up from Prompto, he saw Gladiolus standing there, one of Noctis’ swords in his hand. He was still pale, but he watched Ignis with the same intensity as the great bird tattooed across his body. “Gladio--?”
“You were dead.” The Shield’s voice was unsteady and raw.
The words were like icy blades flooding his veins, stealing the air from his lungs. “Gladio, what are you--?” He took a step forward only to be stopped by the blade being snapped up to his throat, the point barely pressing into flesh.
“Don’t,” Gladiolus’s voice wavered, “don’t move.”
Ignis could feel it, see it. The magic thrumming through their veins. Noctis’s magic. Magic that was now poised to strike him down. He swallowed thickly. “Gladiolus, it’s me.” Ignis slowly held up his hands. His mind scrambled, searching for some way to quickly prove it to them. He reached into the armiger, wincing as Gladiolus’s weapon dug into the soft skin of his neck in response to the flash of magic. Prompto’s camera and Gladiolus’s favorite novel sat in his hands. “Now . . . would a fake be able to do that?”
Gladiolus licked his lips. “Prompto, go check the morgue.”
The blond hesitated, looking between them for a moment. His eyes widened slightly when he finally got a closer look at Ignis. Prompto gave a shaky nod before he turned and ran down the hall.
Ignis watched him leave before letting out a slow breath. The objects dissolved into crystal shards as they fell back into the armiger. He slowly took a small step back to get the blade out from under his chin. “You can put your sword down, Gladio.”
“Not until I’m sure you’re not a threat.”
“I’m not--” Ignis sighed, he couldn’t blame the Shield for being cautious. “Could you at least tell me what happened then? After we were all separated.”
“You first.”
Doesn’t want me to base my story on his… The advisor closed his eyes, wracking his brain to try and remember what happened out in the chaos. “My only priority was making it out to the Tidemother’s altar after I’d fallen into the water. But that meant crossing all of Altissia to get there.”
“Where all the MTs were.”
Ignis nodded. “I . . . found some unlikely help in Lord Ravus.” He saw Gladiolus’s look of disbelief. “I wasn’t keen on accepting his help either, but all he wanted was to get Lady Lunafreya away from Leviathan. She and Noct were at the same place.” He rubbed his eyes, “it wasn’t until Leviathan had been subdued that we managed to cross the water. But when we got there . . .” Ignis shook his head, “Lunafreya was dead.”
Gladiolus sucked in a breath. “Dead?”
The advisor nodded grimly. “I couldn’t get close enough to see what had happened before Ravus rushed over to her. Imperial drop ships made their way over to the island but . . . I can’t remember what happened after.” Ignis lied. He remembered Ravus flying into a rage as the Oracle faded away, not allowed even to rest by the gods. He remembered being struck with a vision from one of the messengers. Ardyn had appeared with a swarm of magitek troopers just as he regained his senses. Ignis’s hand and arm burned at the memory of putting on the Ring of the Lucii and demanding the kings’ aid. Anything after felt like it had been burned away. He looked back at the shield.
Gladiolus was silent for a moment. “Prompto and I hurried to the altar as soon as the fighting died down and we could get out there.” He adjusted his grip on his sword again. “Ravus was out there, you and Noct were just . . . laying there.” The shield swallowed, willing to keep his composure in check. “You were dead, Ignis. The phoenix down should have worked but all it did was turn cold.” Another steadying breath, “I carried you back to Altissia.”
The hallway spun. Ignis stumbled back another step until he was pressed against the wall before sliding to the floor. “But . . . I’m here.”
“I know what we saw.”
“I don’t . . .” He roughly raked his fingers through his hair. He was the King’s Hand, being lost for words wasn’t something that should happen to him. “It . . . explains where I woke up.” Ignis hated the sudden waver in his voice.
“Have you even taken a look at yourself?”
“Have I . . .?” He looked back up at Gladiolus, “No, why should I?”
Gladiolus summoned a small hand mirror from the armiger and tossed it to him.
Ignis stared at the reflection. It wasn’t the heavy scar engulfing his left eye, or the ones he felt tracking up his arm and across his chest that made his blood run cold. It was the burning magenta eyes that stared back at him, shimmering like polished crystals. “Oh,” he whispered, lightly touching the flame shaped scar around his eye. “Oh, Six, what . . .?”
“Can see why I’m not exactly trusting, coming back from the dead aside.”
Ignis let the mirror fall back into the aether as his hands dropped into his lap. “Did the ring do this?” he murmured.
“What?” Gladiolus waited for a response. When there wasn’t one, his eyes narrowed for a second before widening. “Wait, you didn’t--”
“Noct was in danger, I didn’t have a choice!”
The blade slipped from the shield’s grasp, falling back into the armiger before it hit the floor. “What the hell were you thinking!?”
“He was in danger . . .” Ignis repeated, remembering the desperation in the moment when he revealed the ring to Ardyn. “I was out of options, so I,” Ignis gave a halfhearted shrug. “Suppose the stories were true, it did kill me.”
Gladiolus knelt in front of him. “You’re a damn fool, you know that?”
“As long as Noct’s alive, that’s all that really matters.” He looked up at the shield, “He is alright, isn’t he?”
“That’s supposed to be my job, you know.”
“Gladiolus,” Ignis wanted to grab him by the shoulders, “Is Noctis alright?”
Gladiolus hesitated, “The doctors couldn’t find any injuries on him. Seems to just be asleep.”
“He slept for a long time after dealing with Titan, I can’t imagine the strain Leviathan put on him.”
Footsteps running down the hall grabbed their attention. “He’s not in there,” Prompto panted, slowing to a stop beside them. “The, uh, the door was kinda blown off too.” The blond shifted, looking at Gladiolus. “He might be telling the truth, big guy.”
A hum rumbled in the shield’s chest. “I think so too.” Gladiolus stood back up, “but do anything funny and I’ll make sure you’re not getting back up again.”
Ignis winced at the threat but nodded as he got back to his feet. “You know I’d never dream of hurting Noct.”
“Not counting those salads, right?” Prompto weakly joked. He flinched and let out a weak chuckle at the glare Gladiolus shot in his direction.
They all finally shuffled into the hotel suite, Ignis glanced in the direction of Noctis’s room. He wanted to make a beeline for the prince, but didn’t want to risk another sword shoved at his throat. He sat down on the couch and rubbed his eyes.
“Do they hurt?” Prompto asked, sitting beside him.
“My eyes? No.”
The blond nodded, fidgeting. “Wonder if they’ll go back to normal. They’re a lot like Noct’s whenever he, you know,” Prompto gestured vaguely. “Gets, like, Ramuh to swoop in and help with something.”
Ignis could only nod in agreement. “I suppose if they don’t, sunglasses or something may be in order.” He glanced at Prompto, “How is Noct?”
“He hasn’t budged since we got here,” the blond picked at the leather straps around his wrist. “Doctor said he didn’t seem hurt, but,” he shrugged. “Guess it’s like he’s asleep. We did try an elixir on him, just to be safe.”
“And it didn’t have any effect?”
“Not that we could tell,” Gladiolus grunted.
Silence fell over the room. No one entirely sure what to say or do. It wasn’t long before Prompto was struggling to stay awake. “Why don’t you go lay down, Prompto?” Ignis suggested after the blond caught himself from falling over. “It’s been . . .” Calling it a day felt like an understatement. “Maybe some rest is in order.”
Prompto hesitated. “Y-yeah,” he finally stood and shuffled towards Noctis’s room, disappearing inside.
“So,” Gladio murmured after a long moment, “you actually put on the ring?”
Ignis nodded.
“Explains the scars I guess.”
He glanced back at his hand, seeing where the scars started from his finger and ran up under his sleeve. “They’re . . . extensive. I have to admit.” Ignis tentatively flexed his arm. It didn’t feel stiff despite the heavy scarring he could feel running up it. He shook the thought away. Looking back up at Gladious, he could see the shield fighting to keep himself awake.
Ignis let the conversation die back into silence. They all needed rest. We can try and figure out how to proceed once Noct’s awake.
An hour slipped by before a soft snoring filled the room.
Ignis studied the sleeping shield for a long moment before finally standing. He needed to check on Noctis, see for himself that he was alright. He silently crept over to the prince’s room and slipped inside. Prompto sat slumped against the side of the bed asleep. He didn’t even stir when Ignis approached. The advisor quietly sighed, picking up a discarded blanket and draping it over the blond.
Stopping at the side of Noctis’s bed, Ignis watched him for a moment. The sleeping prince’s breaths were steady. He hesitated, reaching out and pressing his fingers against Noctis’s throat. A steady, strong pulse thrummed under his fingers, though his magic felt weak and thready. I don’t even know what it’s supposed to look like. Why can I even see this now? Was it another aftereffect from the ring’s magic? Ignis shook his head. Could this be something like stasis? If it was, then there wasn’t much they could do aside from wait.
He slipped back out of the bedroom and quietly paced the length of the suite, careful not to wake Gladiolus. Hunger gnawed at the back of his mind. It had been there faintly when he first woke up, but now that he had finally found everyone it was becoming harder to ignore. His throat was so dry, like when they had finished scaling Ravatough in search of one of the royal tombs. Ignis rubbed his eyes and picked up a can of Ebony off the counter. The drink was far from the best of habits, but after everything that happened, he could do with a small comfort.
The coffee had barely touched his tongue when he spat it out. He coughed and gagged. Did it spoil? It didn’t smell off and the date suggested the drink should still be fine.
“You alright?” Gladiolus mumbled from the chair, half asleep.
Ignis cleared his throat. “I’m fine, must have been a bad batch. Sorry for waking you.” He could hear the shield’s heartbeat from there. It had picked up slightly, likely from being startled awake. Something about it called to him, enticing him. Though just as quickly as the thought appeared, his skin itched and burned at the notion. Like his very blood recoiled.
“Maybe it’s another effect from wearing the ring,” Gladiolus suggested. “Can’t drink coffee anymore.”
“I’d rather you didn’t joke like that.” Even if he had to admit, it was likely related. Ebony didn’t even sound appealing to him anymore. Ignis rubbed his eyes, “I think . . . I’m going to go for a walk.”
The shield straightened. “Through a ruined city, at night.” Tension was creeping back inside his muscles, he didn’t need to say anything to make his distrust apparent.
“I just . . . need to try and clear my head. There’s a lot I need to try and figure out right now and I’d rather not keep everyone awake with my pacing.” He started for the door, “I’ll be back before sunrise I’m sure.” Ignis didn’t give Gladiolus a chance to argue as he left the suite and made his way back outside.
Wandering the dark streets, he roughly ran his fingers through his hair. I haven’t even stopped to try and figure out what’s happened to me. But the thought that he was dead as far as Gladiolus and Prompto could tell . . . it was hard to even try and wrap his mind around. Ignis wandered aimlessly down the quiet streets. He could recall putting on the ring, searing pain engulfing every fiber of his being. Something ancient and powerful demanded his life. It was all such a blur.
Footsteps shuffled nearby, bringing him to a halt. Ignis turned to see a man stumble past him, the smell of alcohol on his clothes. The sound of his heartbeat all but sang in Ignis’s ears, another smell drawing him unconsciously into following.
It felt like second nature, sinking into the man’s shadow and tailing him through the ruined alleyways. Ignis didn’t even think to consider the hows or whys of the newfound ability. The moment the man turned down one of the ruined alleyways, Ignis sprang without a second thought, grabbing the stranger’s shoulders and slamming him against the wall. Sharp fangs dug into the man’s throat before he could scream.
The hot blood that filled his mouth was better than the finest meal served at the Citadel.
More. He needed more. Fangs sank deeper, a frustrated growl rising from his throat. It felt like raw magic coursing through his veins, lightning sparking across nerves. He felt . . . powerful. Unstoppable. Like when the pain had settled and the ring’s power flooded his body. More.
Ignis’s breath hitched. Wait. He forced himself to let go, unconsciously sealing the wound before staggering back.
The man he attacked sank to the ground, pale but breathing.
What did I . . . ? He covered his mouth. Why did I . . .? He stole another glance at his dazed victim before turning and sprinting away. Nearly draining him dry felt so right and the thought made him sick. Ignis slowed his pace, roughly running his hands through his hair. Six, what if I attacked Gladio? Or Noct--? His body recoiled before he could even finish the thought. He covered his mouth, sinking to his knees. What do I do!?
“An oath you will serve, you not of royal blood.” He vaguely recalled the ancient king’s voice. “In body, soul, and blood.”
“They did this, didn’t they?” He murmured, staring at his hands. Ignis could vaguely recall old stories about the Lucii once being affiliated with the goddess Etro. A vestige of this union? Turning him into something that wasn’t entirely alive or dead anymore. A bitter chuckle bubbled up from his throat. I did say I was willing to do anything to protect him . . . Seems the price was a bit more extreme than I thought.
Ignis knelt there in silence for a long moment before finally pushing himself back to his feet. “Guess I have no choice,” he murmured, “I still have an oath to carry out.”