#yet another ancient draft finally freed

[lazycranberrydoodles]

have not posted my doodles on here much but i may start to. follow for more sillies

[mxvladdy]

Diavolo- True Form

Whoooooooo weeeee! ‘Pologies for the wait on these longer posts. I’ve been hit with a one two punch of house emergencies and sudden costly ass repairs, so my creative juices have been rightly squashed as of late.

Plus side I got my drawing tablet and drafting table back so I can neaten up my blog lay out now (yay!) 

Anyway this one was a challenge in the best possible ways. I really like Diavolo because of how little we know about him so it gave me some wiggle room. Or at least what I know of him- im only on like chapter 23 of the stories. Idk if I did him justice as this is angsty af but I sure had a blast writing it!

Hope ya like! Next up: Beelzebub 

Trigger warning: Mention of blood, and swearing. 

Diavolo-

He'll never show you, so don't ask. His true form is god-like in its own right and such knowledge, such truly raw demonic power in its natural form is not for your mortal eyes.

No matter what your lineage, it would break you. And despite his roles and being the literal devil, he doesn’t want you suffering.

Sometimes when he thinks you wouldn't notice he relaxes his hold on reality, just a fraction. He wants to relieve some of the tension that is always building just below the surface. Like closing your eyes when you have a tension headache. The mental energy he has to exert to keep face is enormous. Regular glamour doesn’t work nearly as well as his own, or Barbato’s magic.

But you see hints during your downtime spent in his company. A ripple in his reflection on the window pane. Unexplainable shadows dancing across his exposed skin. Too many teeth in his mouth when he laughs. Sometimes when you stare into his eyes you see something indescribable staring back behind them. His usually warm and inviting gaze darkening. A barest flicker, a hulking bestial thing kept locked behind in his golden gaze. It's enough to freeze the blood in your veins.

On certain nights when you can slip away from the brothers you stay in his room. Lying  awake, you watch his magic wane and shift as he slumbers. Sometimes you see runes, or at times letters. You are tempted to write them down and ask Solomon. But something stops you each time.

The worst images are the faces. Unknown souls trapped beneath his flesh clawing to be freed. Silent screams fading back into his body as he dreams. Your fragile fingers trace the patterns they leave as you wait for the next day wrapped in his embrace.

Only once have you seen more of his form then he would ever wish. The depths of his strength and mental fortitude were unknown to you so the slip up took you both by surprise. He masks the error well, but the sudden shift in energy in the room couldn’t be suppressed .

You are suddenly so aware of the oppressive weight of gravity on your frame. Your bones grinding together under the force of his aura. You panic, desperate by the need to breathe, but are unable to draw even the smallest bit of oxygen as it is robbed from the room. Time and reality wrapped too, distorting in ways only you thought only Barbatos could do. You knew in that moment the sudden dread of death, how mortally was but a rusty shackle tethering you down.

He collects himself, dispelling the energy and locking his glamour down tight to protect you. But that split second of fury felt like an eternity to you as you sink to the floor. You hiccup a shaky sob and shiver. Your fragile human mind bowing under the strain of what it cannot comprehend. Scolding hot tears fall from your cheeks, before splashing crimson the stone below you.

You didn't approach him again for over a month. No matter how strong you are, some things were better off unseen.

Mini Fic

He didn’t know. For once in his ancient pitiful existence, he had been unaware of his surroundings. It had been for just a moment, one tiny crack in his veneer. The foolishness of Mammon and Belphegor’s actions finally poked the right nerve. He wouldn’t hurt them, for Lucifer’s sake. That prideful demon would never forgive him if he did. But he could scare them. A quick look at his true self; a flash of the deepest bowels of hell. Enough to give them a reminder of their positions and standing in his court. He had expected their whimpers of fear, could taste the acidic tinge of it exuding from their pores. What he didn’t expect though was your blood curdling screams alongside.

Ironically, he would have to thank the second eldest later. His fast thinking is the only thing that saved you from complete damnation. His body shielded yours, taking the brunt of the stronger daemons hellish might for you. What little magic Mammon still had left used to protect you. Though, while your vision was blocked, you could still feel his oppressive presence. It racked your mortal flesh. Diavolo knew what affects his power had on humans. He spent years breaking and consuming damned souls with zeal after all.

The brothers had run from him after that, screaming for Simone. Barbatos following close behind, a look of consternation on his usually impassive face. You had been so limp in Mammon's arms. Diavolo could do nothing, shocked by his own weak will and realization that he might have ruined everything. You had been whisked away so quickly by his faithful servant and the brothers that he hadn’t had a chance to look you over himself. But the brief moment he saw will haunt him for years to come. Your eyes red from the sudden haemolacria, the blood staining your clothes and face. Your fingers digging away at your soft skin, black and purple blotches staining what he could see. Mouth opened wide on a silent scream. He knew what you must have seen. The souls of the damned trapped under his glamour breaking free to latch on to your unmarred soul trying to drag you back with them.

Against his butler's advice he stands at your door now days later trying to see you. He couldn’t sit around and just hear updates second hand. The brothers had been keeping guard most days in a valiant attempt to keep him away. But he could only be waylaid for so long before he used his rank against them.

He had arranged a full council meeting. Every one of the brothers knowing full well it was to get them out of his way. Yet, the order was absolute. This time none of the brothers could reject it. Barbatos would keep them in that room for eternity if he so wished for it. He hated using his age and power against them, but he saw no other way to get to you.

It was foolish now, standing as he was in front of your door. A part of him hoping you would turn the knob and let him in. Let him comfort you for once, instead of the asinine distractions the brothers offered. He could help too. Hells, he wanted to. He wanted to be closer to you. Power discrepancy be damned. The other part of him knowing it was for the best that you didn’t. Your guardian and tormentor all in one. He listens to your muffled sobs for a moment fighting with his feet to stay cemented to the floor instead of heading back in defeat.  

"When my father was still around he took me down to the deepest depths of the kingdom. Where the worst of the traitors and sinners are imprisoned." His deep baritone rumbles through your door during a break in your crying. "It’s a place few seldom go; even now I have yet to return. Back then he told me ‘there will never be a human soul that is undeserving of punishment. Even the ones destined for the celestial realm are tethered to sin.’ At that time I believed him. The things I saw in your realm... " The prince chuckles wearily.

He remembers the ever present scowl on the old King's face. His dark eyes looking out at the sea of damned souls he controlled. Even as a young daemon, fresh into his wings and still sharpening his horns to impress others he could tell how much his father detested his position. How it had warped him, turning him bitter and cold, even to his mate and only child.

Diavolo never wanted to be like that. Not to the ones he supposedly cared for at the very least. "I think that is why he hated the other realms so much.” He continued. “Humans, for their ability to choose which realm they would eventually end up in after they pass. That even the worst sinners could find redemption enough at the last moment to get to the pearly gates. While daemons, no matter how well they served, or the duties they did for the good of their own would never be seen as equals to our celestial counterparts or yours. That this existence is all we'll ever be destined to have. Nightmares and monsters, stories to tell little human children to keep them in line.” He pauses, collecting himself. “I believed wholeheartedly that every human deserved the punishments only my kind could dowel out. But, in this past year I have spent with you, I find myself changing. You are so undeserving of such torment. Somehow you are understanding and forgiving beyond measure to us. You handle our ill tempers with such grace. For daemons such as us, it is staggering, and humbling. I regret that I have hurt you so deeply and have broken your trust. I swear it as the head of this realm I would never intentionally do so." He looks at the door handle willing it to open. " I am so sorry."

Your crying picks up again. Huge heaving sobs that rattle your chest. Great Father, he just keeps making it worse. Clearing his head Diavolo turns.

Rejection of this nature was new to him. No one had ever dared to ignore him, especially such as this. The royal in him- his father's blood- seethed that he would even stoop so low as to grovel to a short lived thing like yourself. Even deeper yet, it demanded another taste of your essences. You little soul kept safe behind your rib cage. He wanted it added to his collection, kept tucked away deep within his maws.

It was sick; it was wrong. He chokes on the idea. The intrusive thought burrowing deep. How deplorable was he? Perhaps the angels were right to keep him out of heaven.

You didn't show to class the following day, or the days after. Unsurprising to him and the seven of the inner council. He figured the other day wouldn’t change anything. But it was utter agony to him. These days trapped in his office only getting short and curt updates on your health from Lucifer. It had been a special kind of torment.

Today he sat once again at his desk staring at some godforsaken bitching of a royal cousin. He knew this whelp. Some backwater thrice removed eons ago. Yet he was demanding an audience? The gall. The ink of their eligible handwriting makes him cross eyed. Would this day ever cease? He looks to his hourglass, the sands within seemingly frozen in time.

"My Lord, perhaps you should take a moment to stretch your legs?" Barbatos moved from his corner. Gloved hand coming to rest on top of the same three lines he had been reading for the past two hours. "This work could wait another evening I’m certain ."

"Did I do the right thing my friend?" Diavolo doesn't even bother answering the question his servant posed. They both knew he wouldn't. "This program. Our human exchange students. Solomon is one thing, but-"

"Your will and path is absolute." Barbatos states. "There are no mistakes within you, merely stumblings onto different paths."

With a gentle push Barbatos moves the hulking demon out of his way to collect and organize the scrolls and letters scattered about the large desk. "You made the right choice bringing them here. Look at what they have done. They are entertainment to you are they not?"

The prince rose knocking his desk aside and descended on his butler. His true form out in all its unholy glory now. His highly condensed magic distorting the study as if he was a black hole. The axis of the room shifts. His priceless collection of books and toys disintegrating from the cold radiation he emits.

It was all for show really. There was nothing he could do to an ancient being such as Barbatos. So he lashed out, throwing a tantrum in the security of his office. The hopeless agitation he felt fueling the flames of his rage. His butler had only added holy water to his already festering wounds.

Barbatos had been by his side for time in memoriam. The crafty bastard had helped raise him. Had shaped him into the ruler he was today. If anyone could break and remold him it would be his oldest companion.

The dark haired daemon waited for the waves of agitation to dry up. Moving only when the prince was in his more presentable demonic form. Large barrel chest heaving as he reined himself in. “Are you back to your senses?” He asks coolly, already categorizing the items to replace and furniture to be mended.

"I had not meant for it to go like this."  Diavolo croaks into his hands collapsing back on what remained of his desk. Building a bridge between realms, yes. That noble idea was the greater purpose of this program, but the rest of it. The classes, and dances. The parties where he threw his newest toys about to see how they would react to things other mortals worshiped? That had been for his own curiosity and amusement. Lesser beings navigating a foreign world blind to the dangers that were right under their very nose. Bring a mortal with no magic into his realm? Deep down he knew this was an inevitability. Especially with the freedoms he granted them. He just didn’t think he would get so attached.

“No one believes that you would hurt them on purpose.” His butler cuts off his downward spiral. “It would ruin the program. That is what you are so stressed about, right?” Barbatos eyes him skeptically. Diavolo, himself, and Lucifer had spent many sleepless weeks constructing and negotiating this program. If the Arch Angels heard a mortal was hurt down here it could very well end this little escapade. But the look in the prince’s eyes told a different story.

A warm glow emanated from his cheeks and he was unable to meet the old daemon’s gaze. Ah. "Or perhaps things have changed?" Barbatos smiles coyly up from beneath his bangs. "You are your mother's son after all. Neither of you were ever able to stem your bleeding hearts for long." Diavolo squawked indignantly but didn’t argue. Instead he merely turns a darker shade of red and curses under his breath.

He skipped out on court that evening. Not that he cared much. The other nobles would no doubt use the time to gossip about his whereabouts and uncouth behavior of late. Truth be told, he was avoiding the brothers more than anything else. They had made it expressly clear (some more then others) how they felt about him currently. He wouldn't doubt that Belphegor had a few more brothers on his side now.

Instead he stood at your door once more with a tea tray in hand. He had bumped into Simone on the way. The angel had come to bring you dinner and to check up on the last of your wounds. Celestial magic worked miracles on those who have been touched by the darker arts. Diavolo was grateful for his talents. And, by some miracle, Simone had made it abundantly clear he was not going to bring this to the higher ups on his end either.

Upon seeing the prince slinking up the house's stairwell the other man had simply smiled and offered him the tray. “I suddenly got a message from Luke. Could you perhaps drop this by our friend’s door?” Diavolo had accepted without preamble, large hands dwarfing the platter of little tea cakes and sandwiches. The young cherubs work no doubt. His cooking was a fine treat, and a great incentive to at least open the door.

“Hello again.” He knocks twice. “I just wanted to check in on you. I know I am the last person you wish to see but I was hoping to talk?” Silence greets him. Were you awake? He breathes deeply and focuses on picking up your vitals. You were up, your heart thumping steady somewhere in the room. That was good. “I also have dinner for you. Simone had an urgent matter to attend to so he- for better or worse- entrusted this to me.”

Diavolo searches hopelessly for something else to say. He couldn’t just leave the food and go. He needed to see you. “I don’t plan on staying long today. I understand when I am not wanted, but I cannot help myself but be worried for you. Perhaps this is just me contritioning, because I know I caused this. The amount of times I have been called a ‘ass’ by Solomon over this have been staggering.” He rambles. After another bout of silence from your end he coincides. “I see- I will leave the food by the door and let you rest.” Defeated he puts the food down and turns to leave.

The door clicks open slowly. One bloodshot eye peeking through the crack. “Oh mio piccolo mortale.” He loses his grip on your shared tongue at a loss. You looked- you must have been in the hall longer then he or the brothers had known. Such damage couldn’t be done in a few moments. Your skin was healing as nicely as Lucifer had said, but the deep purple scarring still remained on the surface. The burn pattern of it all was random. Twisting wounds that reflected an oily sheen from the light of the hallway. “I-.”

“I know-” You cut him off with a raised hand. “and I feel as though I owe you an apology too.” Your voice was so weak and shaky. A mockery of your normally strong and jovial tone. Hearing you laugh at school had brightened the dreary halls. He hadn’t realized it until you weren't there.

“You owe me nothing.” Diavolo says in earnest. He watches you contemplate your next words before throwing whatever you were going to say away.

“Would you like to come in?” Your eyes drop to the tray. “Luke always makes more than I can eat.”

“I don’t think that would be wise.” He backs out. All his plans crashing and burning around his feet. His actions had been irreparable.

“Perhaps not,” You open the door wider taking the tray and heading to your side table, leaving him no room to argue. “But then again, being a lamb among such wolves as yourself and the brothers isn’t smart either.” You meant it as a joke but he couldn’t even muster a chuckle. It was true. Gods. “Dia-” You approach him again but falter at the last second.

As much as you wanted to be close to him again the memories were still so fresh in your mind. The cold hell fire of his magic ensnaring you, searing your skin. The whispered words of sinners long since past still echoing in your head, all in languages you’ve never heard before. The worst though had to be the screaming. Lost souls begging for help. Some sounded so familiar…You shutter involuntarily.

You wanted to hate him for this. Curse him for putting you through this pain. But how much could you blame him? Or any of them? They were daemons. Whether he meant to hurt you or not, it truly had only been a matter of time before it happened. It would be hypocritical of you to fear or hate him forever over this. Six of the seven brothers have threatened your life before, and you have forgiven them. Hell, one of them actually killed you. What’s more was that Diavolo’s wrath hadn’t even been directed at you.

Wrong place at the right time; seemed to be your forte. “Please, come in.” You repeat again firmer than before mustering up either courage or sheer human stupidity to order him in. You couldn’t tell the difference anymore. “We need to talk.”  

He enters, following at your heel like a lost puppy. All air of princedom gone as you clicked the door shut. Diavolo fiddles with his hands, old habits from childhood coming with his nerves. He didn’t know what to expect anymore. Yelling? Some kind of beratement? A plea to go home and never look back?  He would let you.

You pass by him, giving him a large berth of space to get to your seat. “Tea?”  

Diavolo jerks his head to you. He had forgotten momentarily the plate of food he had used to get access to you. You smile sheepishly pushing it and a plate of sweets towards him with your unbandaged knuckles. He doesn’t move till your hand retracts back to your lap. You jerk your head to the open seat waiting for him. You weren’t going to take no for an answer.

“I- thank you.” The daemon sits making himself as small as possible in the straight back chair. He takes the porcelain and drinks mindlessly. The scalding hot tea doing little to help the tightness of his throat, but it did thaw some of the ice in his mind.

“Are-how…” He fumbles so unsure of what to do next. “I see you’ve been keeping up with your school work.” Diavolo closes his eyes, wincing internally at his words. That’s what he comes up with? Idiotic.

You smile anyway, eyeing the massive pile of books and paperwork spewn about your bed. “Yeah. I’ve taken to doing my school work with Levi in his room. Mammon and Beel are nice enough to drop it off to the teachers when they are due.” He nods. He knew this of course. But it was nice to hear it from you. But yet, you don’t meet his eyes. Far too afraid to see what hid behind them.

The thought of being dragged back into those dark depths again makes your pulse quicken. You instead stare at your nail beds, finding them more interesting. They were purple now. The nails stained black by the contact with his magic. “Will- will that go away?” He asks. Demonic curses or taints were nigh impossible to remove fully. Disgustingly, he hoped they didn’t. Then your nails would match his. The darker depths of his soul coo at the idea, happy that in a small way every daemon would know your his. Not as good as a pact, but as close as he could get to being a part of your little mortal life.

“I’m not sure.” You reply honestly bringing your hands up to place them on the table. “Simone and Solomon have done what they could. But, it is as good as it’s going to get for now. They say it could fade with time.” You look up at him, eyes gazing to the left of his face. “Luke thinks I should see a stronger angel.” Diavolo winces, the thought stung, and terrified him. “I told him no.”

That surprised him. This was your chance. The celestial realm had been skeptical from the beginning. If they knew, it would be a perfect caveat for them to step in. “Why?” Finally you look at him. The fear was still there. Hesitation evident in your eyes. Yet you forced yourself to look at him, fighting through your trepidation.

“Did you mean what you said earlier? About your father and what you think of me?”

“Of course.” He replies without hesitation reaching for your cold hands. You flinch but don’t move away. It felt-nice. His warmth chasing away the perpetual chill that covered your fingertips. Idly you stroke his strong hands with your thumbs.

“Then, I think we can work on this privately.” Slowly but surely you felt like you could fix this. Not for the program, but for yourself.  

[metanoiamorii]

❛One day, the Imperium shall fade and crumble, but their names shall always be remembered in the hearts of all who yearn for freedom.❜

♧ Title: Mercy No More [MNO]

♧ Status: Drafting & Brainstorming

♧ Point of View: Third Person, most likely past tense, multiple

♧ Genre: Fantasy, Drama, Action, a dabble of darker elements

♧ Warnings: War, death, slavery, racism, classism, gore, colonialism, the use of religious beliefs to commit atrocities, violence, nudity, forced relationships, forced violence; and I'm sure more will come onto it as time progresses.

♧ Featuring: Diverse LGBTQ+ characters, complex and complicated characters, morally grey characters, complex world building, plenty of symbolism, fantasy religions, character redemption arcs, character corruption arcs; and I'm positive more will come on as it progresses.

♧ Setting: Primarily it will take place in an Ancient Roman inspired setting. With mention and traveling to the places inspired by: Gaul, Ancient Egypt, the Library of Alexandria, Mesopotamia, Ilyria, the Persian Empire, Carthage, and various more.

♧ Tease: Upon our backs, their mighty kingdom has been built— with our hands, we built this kingdom! At the expense of our blood and our lives, their kingdom was created! And I say to you now: no more! No more lives given to their fucking kingdom! No more blood given to them! No more will we suffer at their hands!

♧ Synopsis:

In the far southwestern seas of Viogia, the Luc'rivinus Imperium has grown in might and influence over the years. It dominates the world as a powerhouse that no other country is able to rival: in army, influence, ancient rooms, and blood-soaked histories.

When the campaign to take over Agriste comes into play, the Lucrians never would expect this would throw their society into a downwards spiral and lead to their potential end.

After the enslavement and escape of Liulfr of Clan Caintigern, they have roused all of the Agristic people into open arms and hostility of the Lucrians. By far yet, it would prove the most difficult campaign yet. Even then, the Lucrians push. They push their luck. While no Liulfr to rouse the whole of Agriste, taken slave and captivating society, the slave to become Tiraste rouses a slave rebellion to shake the foundation of the Imperium from the inside, while still from outside they find their campaigns.

Through these actions and Perseverance for justice, this army of ex-slave challenge history and expectations.

♧ Excerpt:

It took several moments before the slave spoke. A hand raising to wipe the blood from his face. "I have done this thing because it is just. Blood demands blood."

When the others nodded, the slave only lowered the sword back to his side; stepping forward to pick up the one he had discarded. "We have lived and lost, at the whims of our masters for too long. I would not have it so. I would not see the passing of a brother for the purpose of sport. I would not see another heart ripped from our beating chest, or breath forfeit for no cause."

"I know not all of you wished this. Yet it is done. It is done. Your lives are your own!" With a breath, exhaled, he finally turned to face the others. That wild wolf grin to find his face, eyes to take that verdant glow. "... Forge your own path or join with me, and together we shall see the Imperium tremble!"

♧ Characters: As this is a series I'm expecting to span over six, possibly seven books, I'm only going to list the ones I know who are the most major characters. As I will be doing them a bit different than my other ones.

━━━━━━━━━━

♧ Elgaslir: Trik'Rjrkite; The Breaker of Chains

Slave Deity • He/They • Homosexual • Demiromantic • Patron of Kyrian

♧ Dar'nen: Aktoyron; The Great Wolf

Elvhen Deity • He/Him • Gynesexual • Demiromantic • Patron of Tiraste

♧ Cariña: Elsu'amabilxika; The Dreamweaver

Nature Deity • She/Her • Pansexual • Demiromantic • Patron of Diantha

♧ Jhaeros: Agisar; The Great Protector

Elvhen Deity • He/Him • Hetero-Flexible • Demiromantic • Patron of Ek'ran

♧Tryst: Tyronjis; The Black Lord

Human Deity • He/Him • Bisexual • Aromantic • Patron of the Imperium

━━━━━━━━━━

♧The Dreamer: Diantha; The Black Wolf

Wood Elf • Vespanian • Intersex • Genderfluid • He/She • Pansexual • Grey-Aromantic • Ex-Body Slave • One of the figureheads of the rebellion

♧ The Soldier: Ek'rán; The Brown Wolf

Sky Elf • Agristic • Intersex • Demiboy • He/They • Asexual • Aromantic • Ex-Gladiator • One of the figureheads of the rebellion 

♧ The Speaker: Kyrian; The Red Wolf

Spirit Elf • Júrcan • Intersex • Agender • They/He • Asexual • Aromantic • Ex-Body Slave • Cousin of Astraea • One of the figureheads of the rebellion

♧ The Saviour: Astraea; The Golden Wolf

Demigod • Júrcan • Intersex • Genderfluid • He/She • Demi-Homosexual • Demi-Homoromantic • Ex-Body Slave • Cousin of Kyrian • Half sibling of Cyk'ste • One of the figureheads of the rebellion

♧ The Rebel King: Tiraste; The White Wolf

Sun Elf • Agristic • Intersex • Agender • He/They • Pansexual • Demiromantic • Ez-Gladiator • One of the figureheads of the rebellion

♧ The Healer: Cyk'ste

Intersex • Genderfluid • They/He • Asexual • Aromantic

Demigod • Appears Athylian • Intersex • Agender • They/He • Asexual • Aromantic • Joined only due to Astraea • Half sibling of Astraea • The major physician of the rebellion and a trusted advisor

♧ The Seaside Terror: Vul'kyrinus

Minx • Gerussi • Intersex • Queer • He/Him • Pansexual • Aromantic • Pirate • An avid supporter

♧ The Soul-Link: Lythier

Spirit Elf • Lydstian • Intersex • Agender • They/Them • Asexual • Aromantic • A former slave of the Citadel of Taiblyus • A trusted advisor to the Five

♧ The Doctore: Askari

Goliath • Rycamish • Amab • Agender • He/Him • Bisexual • Biromantic • Ex-Gladiator • The former Doctore of the Vettius Household

♧ The Rival: Riaglis

Shifter • Rycamish • Male • He/Him • Bisexual • Demiromantic • Ex-Gladiator • A viewed rival of Tiraste • A trusted advisor • The bodyguard of Astraea

��━━━━━━━━━

♧ The Imperator: Loukios Sistko Martialis Tok'lani Valerianus; The Red Serpent

Half Sun Elf • Lucrian-Agristic • Intersex • Agender • He/They • Closeted Homosexual • Aromantic • Consul • The embodiment of War

♧ The Slave Queen: Clementia Edesia Coralee Achlys Eleutheria; The Green Serpent

Witch • Lucrian • Afab • Agender • She/They • Homo-Flexible • Aromantic • Magister • The adopted daughter of Sabine • The embodiment of Pestilence

♧ The God of Politics: Lucretia Livius Phoenicis Ferrea Sabine Regnare; The Black Serpent

Witch • Lucrian • Amab • Queer • He/She • Pansexual • Aromantic • Magister • The adopted parent of Clementia • The foster parent of Tok'lani • The embodiment of Ruin

♧ The God's Chosen: Severi Agrona Brennius Blaire Blandine; The Pale Serpent

Human • Lucrian • Transmasc • Agender • They/He • Asexual • Aromantic • Magister • The favoured of The Black Lord • The Embodiment of Death

♧ The Heir: Augustus Laskaris Aurelius Stylianos; The Golden Serpent

Demigod • Intersex • Lucrian • Queer • He/Him • Questioning • Magister • The son of the Black Lord

♧ The Dog: Severi Agrona Helios; The Tapian Serpent

Half Sun Elf • Intersex • Genderfluid • He/They • Pansexual • Demiromantic • Freed slave • A trusted associate of both Blaire and Tok'lani

♧ The Child Magister: Vavianus Thracius

Human • Male • He/Him • He is a child and therefore there is no such talk in this house of romance • Magister

♧ The Silver-Tongued: Ios Erebos

Changeling • Intersex • Nonbinary • They/Them • Asexual • Aromantic • Praetor • The right-hand of Tok'lani

♧ The Advocate: Severi Agrona Atticus Órlanus Alys

Human • Amab • Genderfluid • He/She • Homosexual • Homo-Demiromantic • Magister • The foster child of Blaire • One of the only public advocate to end slavery

━━━━━━━━━━

If you would like to be added to the taglist, feel free to drop a message, send in an ask, or remark it in the tags!

Taglist:

[jackdawyt]

Solas: “I walk the dinan’shiral. There is only death on this journey. I would not have you see what I become.”

Lord of Tricksters and He who Hunts alone, kin to His People. He who could walk on both sides of Gods without fear, they all trusted him, and all of them were betrayed. He told the Creators that a blade was forged in the heavens and the Forgotten Ones that it was hidden in the abyss, and when they went searching for it, he sealed them both in their realms forever, paying the ultimate price. He comes in humble guises but strikes those who are vulnerable, Thedas has never been in more peril than ever before, Fen'Harel will rise again.

Hey guys, Jackdaw here! Given the many revelations of Tevinter Nights, we have a lot of plot threads and teases hinting at what Solas may do next in his grand scheme to destroy the Veil and restore the Elven Kingdom. Indeed, the Dread Wolf has risen, and we’ve got a lot of theorising to do!  

So, with that said, I ask that you don your tinfoil hats, respectively, as we examine the Dread Wolf rising, and the next stages of Solas’s scheme that will inevitably destroy Thedas.  

Sandal: “When he rises, everyone will see!”  

Fen’Harel has risen as a beastly and ill-natured creature held from within, mantled in the disguise of an elven mage.  

Discovered in “Callback”, the final Fresco that Solas drafted out in Skyhold’s Rotunda before leaving the Inquisition, revealed an outline of a beast stood over a stabbed dragon; two figures painted on either side of a pane of glass with confused forms. The beast is shown to be a horrifying wolf, having absorbed the dragon’s power, stood crooked over all.

“The eighth and final panel of the fresco, meant to commemorate the battle against the blighted magister Corypheus, was unfinished. It showed only rough shapes, outlines that the mass of color crawling around the room now rushed to fill. And as detail and depth emerged, something was wrong.” (Callback, Page 121).

The depiction of the unfinished fresco relates to Solas’s embrace with Mythal at the end of Dragon Age: Inquisition. For many years, we’ve been scratching our heads about this exchange between Mythal and Solas. Thanks to Tevinter Nights, and more aptly, Solas. We have the truth.  

“But here, unfinished, was the outline of a beast that stood over both dragon and sword. This was not the battle, or the victory. This was after. And the beast was not a dragon. The outline alone might have allowed that assumption, but now, filling with black and red, it was something other. The creature was reptilian, but also canine. The snout was blunted and toothy, but edges came to a point in houndlike ears. As the mass of plaster filled the shape, it began to rise, revealing scales and tail, and paws with talons. It looked like two figures painted on either side of a pane of glass, then viewed together, their forms confused. A wolf that had absorbed a dragon, and now stood crooked over all.” (Callback, Page 122).

This fresco uncovers that Solas absorbed an unknown quantity of Mythal’s power, with her essence he can rise as the Dread Wolf. For what purpose, we’ll discuss later. However, an essence of Mythal, somewhat lives on, as she seemingly placed a piece of herself into an eluivan before Solas took the majority of her power, in order to rise.  

Mythal: “It was only a piece, but that’s all I needed”.

I certainly don’t think that’s the end of Mythal. I believe quite the contrary, I think Solas’s scheme that has been set in motion was Mythal’s idea in the first place. Without her power, Solas wouldn’t be able to rise as the Dread Wolf. It’s only because of her immolation, he can rise! I think Mythal too will rise in the future, perhaps in another body.  

Regardless, the fact that Solas engraved rising as the Dread Wolf with Mythal’s power in Skyhold, before the orb broke, proves that Solas always intended on meeting Mythal, to take an aspect of her power.

Mythal’s sacrifice was never a backup plan to Solas, regardless of his orb’s destruction. Solas always planned on paying her a visit, with or without the orb, having the same intention of absorbing her power so he could rise.  

The orb would only fulfil one purpose, and that’s to rip a hole in the Veil. Whereas taking Mythal’s power had a different purpose – to prepare for Solas’s transformation into the Dread Wolf. And, so with that power now invested, the Dread Wolf has risen.  But only willingly on Mythal’s part.

Solas: “I would have entered the Fade, using the mark you now bear. Then I would have torn down the Veil. As this world burned in the raw chaos, I would have restored the world of my time…the world of the elves.”

With the orb’s destruction, Solas will be looking for a new way to destroy the Veil. Perhaps the Red Lyrium Idol is his backup attempt, and tracking down the Idol is his current quest, so he can successfully destroy the Veil with it, as intended.  

If that solves how Solas could destroy the Veil, then what’s Solas’s plan behind rising as the Dread Wolf? He’s not rising as the Dread Wolf to destroy the Veil, so, what is the Dread Wolf’s purpose?  

Perhaps Solas needs to rise as the malicious Dread Wolf so he can vengefully deal with the many hostile forces after the veil is destroyed.  

Although there will be plenty of opposition against Solas destroying the Veil, like the Executors, Qunari, Inquisition and so on. Nothing in Thedas today can equal what lies beyond the Veil, lingering in many places like the Void and the darkest depths of the Fade.  

Ancient beings, things left forgotten, and The Evanuris.  

Solas is rising as the Dread Wolf to slay his ultimate adversaries. The next protagonist may think that we fall among that category, but nothing can measure against the insane, wicked powers of those who dwell across the Veil, and will soon be released from their shackles if Solas succeeds, and destroys the barrier protecting Thedas against the Fade.  

Inquisitor: “If you destroyed the veil, wouldn't the false gods be freed?”

Solas: “I had plans.”

Solas: “They killed Mythal. A crime for which an eternity of torment is the only fitting punishment.”

Mythal was murdered by her own people, the Evanuris, in their lust for power, they betrayed her. When the Veil is destroyed, Solas will rise as the Dread Wolf, seeking justice for Mythal’s murder, he will find and kill each member of the Elven Pantheon that wronged his queen. The deaths of the False Gods will bring forth a new elven empire ruling over Thedas, with Solas and Mythal at the top.

Flemeth: ”Mythal clawed and crawled her way through the ages to me and I will see her avenged!"

I believe that Mythal exchanged the majority of her power to Solas, so he could follow her scheme of vengeance/justice against the Evanuris. Through the ages, Mythal seeks her own reckoning against those who betrayed her, her one aim has always vengeance. With Solas waking from his long slumber, the two have since schemed an ending against the Pantheon. Solas, using Mythal’s power, and rising as the Dread Wolf will be the False God’s demise.  

Solas and Mythal will have their vengeance, and a new world for the Elven people. However, the Veil hasn’t been destroyed yet, and there’s still time to stop Solas from reaching that reality. The best lead on Solas’s plan regards the Red Lyrium Idol.  

"The Dread Wolf wants that idol, and he’s not afraid to get his hands bloody to get it." (TDWTY, Page 490).

“He intends something for the Fade, and if he wants the idol, then whatever he intends will be terrible.” (TDWTY, Page 498).

The Red Lyrium Idol is still a mystery, and I say that with exasperated lungs, because I’ve talked about this blasted relic in every lore video I’ve created since The Dread Wolf Rises trailer back in 2018. Because of that, I’m going to rush through the details on this Idol.

It’s been described as: “a couple hugging, too thin to be dwarves”, or “a god mourning their sacrifice.” However, disregarding what it supposedly looks like, this idol belongs to Solas. It’s his, and he wants it back, he has a purpose for it.  

“YOU USE MY IDOL CARELESSLY TO VANDALIZE THE SEA OF DREAMS. NOW FEEL THE PAIN OF WHAT YOU HAVE CREATED.” (TDWTY, Page 496).

For what? Well, Red lyrium is known to thin the Veil, and this idol has magical properties too. It’d be a pretty good catalyst for the Veil’s destruction.  

Secondly, when the Idol was used in a blood and binding ritual, it revealed a most intriguing ritual blade, perhaps Solas wants or needs this blade. Could this be the blade to end all wars? Does he need it to finish his ritual? Or is it just a nice sharp dagger to cut Lavellan’s heart out again?  

“It was not merely an idol, but a ritual blade. He slashed his own hand, and a wave of power pulsed through the cavern.” (TDWTY, page 495).

And my final reason for justifying Solas’s genocidal actions.... In “The Hunt of The Fell Wolf” codex, Ameridan killed a great canine beast with a mysterious ‘fade touched’ Idol. This Idol was the only thing that ‘could prove the monster’s doom.’

“The wounded knight in darkness

Found within the cavern's gloom

An idol of fade-touched stone,

Which could prove the monster's doom.”

(The Hunt of the Fell Wolf, Stanza 15)

Perhaps this Idol from Ameridan’s story is the very same Red Lyrium Idol, and Solas is looking for it because the Idol is one of the only things that can stop and kill Solas, just like the beast in the codex. So, if Solas finds the Idol before anyone else, he’s got full security over his own victory, and no one can stand against him.  

The Red Lyrium Idol belongs to him, perhaps it’s like a ‘Horcrux’, you destroy the Idol, you destroy an aspect of Solas? If that’s too far-fetched, then perhaps the Idol is just very strong with its magical properties, and Red Lyrium compound, and that’s what can defeat Solas. Or, potentially, the ritual blade released from the Idol is the ultimate blow against him? It’s really a matter of tinfoil at the moment.  

What’s unknown is the Idol’s location. Does Solas already possess the Idol? If not where is it? More apropos, who has it?  

This seemingly pre-veil artefact found in the Primeval Thaig by Hawke, which was then stolen by Varric’s Brother, Bartrand. And then sold to Knight Commander Meredith, who crafted it into a greatsword, that granted her, and the sword magically capabilities.   Apparently when Meredith went boom and almost destroyed half of Kirkwall, the sword made from the idol was also destroyed, however, the idol stayed with Meredith as she transformed into a red lyrium statue.   It lingered for a while, until the Carta extracted the idol using a potion created by a Dalish Elf. It was then sold to House Qintara in Tevinter, the house traded it to House Danarius for information, then a Magister from House Danarius took it to the Grand Necropolis for a ritual.   The ritual ended in chaos and flames as the Dread Wolf was summoned, however, the idol escaped Fen’Harel’s grasp, as a noble’s son grabbed it and fled into Tevinter lands.   At this point, the idol’s location gets a tad fuzzy, apparently the idol somehow made its way to an auction, off the coast of Rivian, on the Island Llomerynn. Supposedly, the Dread Wolf made a physical appearance and took his idol back, and that’s the end of it. However, it seems that this could’ve been framed as a lie, or bluff, so Solas could retrieve the Idol, and stop those who seek it from getting it. (TDWTY, paraphrased a lot lol)  

In short, the Idol’s whereabouts are set up for interpretation in “The Dread Wolf Take You”, by the end of the story, we don’t quite know where exactly this idol is, and even if we take a guess, it doesn’t feel concrete... Did Solas actually take the idol from an overbearing auction, with quite the hysterical crowd located off the coast of Rivian? (doubt face) Or did a Noble’s son smuggle the Idol safely back into Tevinter war-torn territory?  

While, I lean to the side; Solas lied throughout the story, so therefore he doesn’t have it, and it’s somewhere in Tevinter, in the occupancy of Maker-knows who.... That still doesn’t give us any clues.

Fortunately, we have some new information, so we don’t have to continually guess, like a dog chasing its tail. Thanks to Dark Horse, Dragon Age comic writer Nunzio DeFilippis, we have an understanding of where this idol was originally supposed to go, before the comics were reworked with Dragon Age 4’s iteration reboot.  

Nunzio recently mentioned in the Unofficial BioWare Forum that the comic characters from Deception were originally chasing the Red Lyrium Idol. The original plan for the comics would've had the characters retrieve the Idol. Only to have Solas take it back. Eluding to the idol's planned whereabouts before the plot changed.  

So, regardless of where the idol may be right now, is Solas’s retrieval of the blasted thing inevitable considering the comics would’ve had this plot solved before the next games launch? Is it a matter of time before Solas finds his idol? Or has the plot changed a lot since then? Maybe we’ll have a shot at grabbing this idol before Solas gets his hands on it in the next game?  

With that, we don’t have a solid placement for where the Idol is, but we can assume that it will end up in Solas’s hands soon enough. However, regardless of the Idol, Solas already has set-out an ominous ritual to destroy the Veil.  

Solas {He} sighed. “It was a moment of weakness. I told myself that it was because you all deserved to know, to live a few years in peace before my ritual was complete. Before this world ended.” (TDWTY Page 506).

Whatever this ritual is, beats me. Solas mentions that it’s going to take a few years until it’s complete. And then boom, it’ll be down with the Veil, and the Dread Wolf shall rise.  

This once more begs the question, if Solas had made plans to destroy the Veil, then why does he need the Red Lyrium Idol? But again, like I said, perhaps he needs to retrieve the Idol because it’s his greatest weakness if used against him. Once he has it, he can destroy it, or throw it in the rubbish, so no one can stop his plan.  

Back to Solas’s ritual. The Dread Wolf has taken residency in the Fade, where his ritual has started to affect.  

“But whatever fear the name Dread Wolf carries, he has earned. While we might visit the Fade, it is his natural home, and the spirits there serve him gladly.” (TDWTY, Page 498).

The Mortalitasi organised their own ritual to push the Qunari back home, using blood magic and binding spells. These types of magic are undoing the work Solas has set in motion, they’re a hinderance to his ritual. Therefore, the Dread Wolf made his presence known at the Grand Necropolis, in Nevarra, forbidding both types of magic, if anyone dare binds a spirit, or uses blood magic, your life is his for the taking.  

“And as clear as the Dread Wolf’s anger at what we had done— the Mortalitasi binding spirits he considered his own, the Tevinter mage using forbidden blood magic— was the feeling that we had disrupted his own work.” (TDWTY, Page 498).

“FROM THIS MOMENT, SHOULD YOU EVER BIND A SPIRIT, THEN YOUR LIFE IS MINE.” (The Dread Wolf Take You, Page 496).

So, clearly any magic that requires demons and spirits, or changes a spirit’s original purpose, is undoing Solas’s ritual. Most likely because the spirits of the Fade serve Solas willingly, they’re probably required in his ritual. Taking them away from that purpose, is undoing Solas’s work. Spirits and demons want the Veil to come down so many of them can pursue their desires to enter the physical world, so it’s no surprise they serve Solas freely.  

Regardless, what exactly is this ritual doing? It’s already affected the Fade.... So, is Solas slowly decaying the Veil over time? Is he reaching into the Black City? Does this ritual have something to do with the Old Gods? Is it in preparation for killing the Pantheon? Is Solas’s ritual going to take him back in time to restore the Elven Kingdom? So many ideas, very few answers.  

Also, to change the pace from the ritual. Let's say Solas is successful and the Veil is destroyed, how are the elves going to survive the Veil’s destruction? When talking to Charter, Solas tells her that the world will be better off for the remaining elves that survive. But how can anyone survive the Fade crashing into Thedas?

“I have no choice. What I am doing will save this world, and those like you— the elves who still remain— may even find it better, when it is done.” (TDWTY, Page 506).

Is Solas taking those he deems worthy to a safe place, so they can rebuild the elven empire once the Veil is no more? Is he building a metaphorical ark, gathering the elves, as his flood destroys all of Thedas? How can he guarantee safety to the elves? Surely, he has a plan for them to survive this calamity?  

Ultimately, more questions that we’ll need to answer for ourselves when Dragon Age 4 arrives. Although we still clueless on Solas’s ritual and the Red Lyrium Idol’s purpose, I can say; without doubt, that Solas has risen as the Dread Wolf. A lupin, evil creature that seeks the end of the Evanuris, and Thedas as we know it.  

Solas may think that his plan is for the greater good of his people, but I believe he’s naïve to the one who’s fundamentally been pulling the strings of his scheme all along. The one who has set his very purpose in motion, and that is Mythal. A Queen he would not see go unavenged, and someone he’d do anything to achieve justice for in her name.  

I believe this trust Solas has for Mythal will be the end of him, that he is nothing but a puppet to Mythal’s plan for vengeance. I believe this conquest for justice, will send Solas down a path of anger, decay, and ultimately death.  

The biggest threat against Solas is himself, as he admits, he’s foolish, prideful and doing what he must. Will we be the one to stop him before it’s too late, changing his mind?  Or will we grant him a finishing blow, silencing our once beloved friend?  

[jojomugi]

hola. 😳 so, i’m a big h*etaro fan as you may know- could you possibly do a little scenario of the reader comforting him after the events of sdc? like my guy, there’s no way jotaro was just okay after all of that. nonono. i do not think for a minute he was. anyways, may i please get some (a bit angsty) soft comforting hours for jotaro? pls and thank you.

Ah yES!!!!

My apologies for the wait. I’ve never written Jotaro before, so this involved a lot of drafting. On the bright side, Jotaro is now another character I can write. I just hope it’s not too OOC. Honestly, we don’t get to see old Jotarhoe get into his feelings too often unless he’s pissed off. I hope you enjoy this though!! I put a lot of love into it just for you buddy 👀!!!

All aboard the angst train whoo whoo.

✨AU: N/A

✨Word Count: 2517

✨SFW?: Yes

✨Spoilers ahead for JJBA PART 3!!!! Read at your own risk!!

The pink petals of the cherry blossom tree outside your home fell like rain droplets from the sky. You were awaiting the arrival of a friend; A friend who on an emotional level was much more than that to you, but a friend nonetheless. Last time you had seen Jotaro Kujo was when you and the rest of the stand using crusaders all reached Egypt.

Quite frankly, the time you spent apart from each other would’ve been far shorter if it had not been for the incident leading up to your departure from the group. The long memory was still fresh in your mind like a new film on a camera roll. You wanted to stay and help, you consider him a friend and the rest of the group like a family to you. But that day when Kakyoin became visually impaired by N’doul’s stand Geb and upon Jotaro’s stern request, you went back home. But now all that crossed your mind was the outcome of those final days in Egypt. You knew Jotaro was obviously still alive, as today certainly wouldn’t have been planned out if he wasn’t. But what happened to everyone else? And was it true that the menacing DIO that by proxy haunted each step in that journey vanquished? 

You shook these thoughts from your mind, as your questions would all be answered shortly. You gave yourself one final look down in the mirror and adjusted your pleated skirt with a slight smile. 

‘Today is going to be a good day’ you silently reminded your reflection with a small nod. But before you had a chance to double-check your small shoulder bag, you were stopped in your tracks by a doorbell. 

“In a second!” You called out as your fast feet hurried down the hall like a rabbit. Like ice, your socks did not do much good with the traction on the floor as you hastily slid around on the smoothly polished wood base of your home to grab a few final things and your shoes. Once you finally got everything together at the speed of light, your perfect display you worked on all morning was now a wreck. You h/c hair now not as smooth from when you first brushed it, and your crew socks now at different lengths. Luckily for you, Joataro was one you could genuinely count on to not judge you for your slightly clumsy physical appearance. As he was a Joestar. And one thing you learned from those days of traveling was that no matter what kind of person they are, all Joestars have a righteous heart of gold.

You suddenly swung the door wide open as a sheepish grin plastered on your face. “My apologies Jotaro, I lost track of time.”

“Oi, y/n, it’s fine. I was 5 minutes early anyway.” He bluntly responded with a dip of the bill of his hat. Jotaro had always been a reserved man until he was poked to the point of utter annoyance, but today, right now, something seemed off about him. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but something in your intuition told you that he deeply troubled by something, more so than how he was during the trip to Egypt. However, you kept to the sideline, as you understood that he was also the type of person to talk when he was ready to. There was no point in forcing him and ruining what was supposed to be a good day for you two. Like a switch, you let out a blink of your e/c eyes and formed a now nonchalant like demeanor. “Oh! Well, it’s alright really. I need to work on my time management skills anyways.” 

Your words were quickly disregarded as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Yare yare. Are you ready?”

You let out a small nod as you stepped out to lock your door. You two finally departed to the sidewalk to make your way towards town. However, all the could be heard between you two were footsteps.

Crunchy. Melancholy. Footsteps.

Internally you just hoped that something interesting would come by the path you two took. Like maybe a cute dog, or an interesting butterfly. Anything to break the tense silence between you two. It was agonizingly awkward, even for Joatro’s standards of reservation.

But if fate wasn’t going to intervene, you had to come up with something on your own. You pondered hard on what to say, as you wouldn’t want to trigger any type of problems dwelling within his mind. You went with the safest route and asked a question you already had a vague idea of an answer to.

“How is your mother doing?”

The silence continued for a few moments more. You slid your hands into your cardigan pockets and waited patiently. 

“She’s better now.” 

The Kujo’s words were as blunt as an ancient knife. But even so, it deeply stung. Your hunch was correct there really was something wrong.

“I’m glad to hear. I was so worried about her. The day I flew back here I used what was left of my money to have a card and flowers sent to her.”

“I know.” 

And yet another insult to injury. Still, even with your sensitive emotions, you did your best not to take it personally. 

“She…really appreciated it. Thank you y/n.” He carefully added, as his step accidentally kicked a rock down the coated pink pathway. Your e/c eyes couldn’t help but soften at the sentiment. He was slowly but surely seeming close to his normal self. With the flip of your locks, you quickly turned your head up at him to press on.

“Well, I’m glad. And what about Mr.Joestar? How is he?”

A faint smile formed that hid behind the high collar of his coat. The only way you could tell he was even smiling was by the very slight movement of the male’s defined cheekbones. 

“Psh…Still a pain in my ass like before.”

A small irresistible giggle emitted from you. Jotaro’s ocean-like eyes glanced down at you for a moment, before steadily looking forward again. His look was now refined and sober once more.

“Oi, y/n, I’m getting tired of walking. Let’s go sit at the bench up the way.” He suggested with a point from his bold finger in the general direction of the bench that you two would soon be approaching. You complied with a nod and once you both got there, you sat on separate ends.

From the eyes of another, no one would even guess you two were even going to the same destination, that it was a mere coincidence you two just so happened to be sitting on the same bench. That was far from the case, but Jotaro was mentally distant and you were hesitant to step into that void of mental distress. Still, you felt as his friend, and how close he was in your heart, it was your duty to help him through whatever he was going through, or at least support and encourage him. You took in a deep inhale, and shortly freed a long sigh from your lips.

“What about Kakyoin? I’ve been worried about him too. Is he still able to see? I figured he would’ve called by now, especially since we live in the same-“

Those first words amongst your rambling…

‘What about Kakyoin.’ 

A tsunami of flashbacks washed over his already flood thoughts and emotions. The weight of guilt at that moment would have destroyed mountains if it was able to. Since that night, he couldn’t help but wonder what he could’ve done differently for him for Kakyoin to still be with them. He made a best friend in someone who thought he couldn’t trust in the beginning. As much as Jotaro’s Joestar legacy deemed him a hero for defeating DIO, in Joatro’s eyes, Kakyoin was a real hero for the final message he left them in those endmost moments of his life on what DIO’s stand really was. Deep down he knew its what Kakyoin would’ve wanted, vengeance for all those that DIO damaged, including himself. He knew that the fight would end with loss—But he could not shake the feeling that he could’ve done something to change the fate of his best friend.

He quickly straightened up with a snap.

“Damn it. Can you just shut up already?” The male gritted, retaining all the frustration and overwhelming emotions he wanted to release. He’d never inflict harm onto you, but he definitely wanted to punch something. But just as quick as he fractured to you, he instantly regretted his knee jerk reaction to you. Obviously, you would’ve had no clue on what was taunting him. The Kujo was at least that rational with his mind. “Just….”

A longingly defeated groan fell from his mouth as he bent forward, bracing his sharp elbows against his knees. You were struck in the heart by his harsh response. He was always quick to be agitated but not in this way. But if the mention of Kakyoin was enough to drive him to that, you only feared the worse, for Joatro was never one to get overly tied up in small, fixable, problems. You slanted towards his direction while still respecting his personal bubble. 

“Jotaro…are you alright?” You asked with a soft sort of caution. 

There was a long pause yet again. The male slid his cap off for a moment before sitting back up and placing it back upon its place. You deserved to know what happened to your form friends as well, just as much as he had the right to grieve over this loss in his own ways. What to say wasn’t hard to formulate, but translating the pain into spoken words was what tormented him.

“Kayoin…Didn’t make it.” He alas answered, trying his best to keep the sharp lump that he formed down. To not fall apart.

For a moment you were dumbfounded. You certainly did believe him, but how? How could such a talented stand user like him fall? Your lip twitched as it begged you to allow itself to quiver. As much as you yourself wanted to break down from this news, you remained strong. This time it was your turn to be the strong one for him. Jotaro truly needed you, for you were the remaining person who wasn’t far across in another continent that he knew he could confide in. He undeniably trusted you with his whole heart, which was truly a rarity for anyone he kept around.

“I’m…so sorry…” you shakenly stammered, as you placed a soft hand on to one of his broad shoulders closest to you. He sharply continued, almost as if you remained silently idle in the same place you were before. 

“Avdol and Iggy…they didn’t make it either. Old man shouldn’t even be here but he survived thanks to DIO’s stupidity.” He spoke in a begrudging manner. He hated that name. DIO. If it wasn’t for DIO, he wouldn’t have had to lose anyone, and no one would’ve been hurt, not even the people who blindly followed him in hopes of something in return. However…ironically enough, he wouldn’t have had the experiences he had that brought him and others together to form a bond that carried its way through even the afterlife. 

You remained silent as you awaited for him to continue if he wanted to continue that is. Your light fingertips gently grazed themselves across him back, leaving a reminder of your openness and reassurance you had to offer for Jojo.

While getting a grip on his composure, Jotaro continued. He hated apologizing in general, but in this instance, it would’ve been upright rude for him not to. “Listen, Y/n, I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I let my emotions get the better of me.”

“Its fine, Jotaro. I don’t blame you once so ever.” You scooted closer towards him before proceeding on. “In fact, you seem to have a lot on your mind today.”

Jotaro let out a breath of air and leaned back in the wooden seat. That was the damn truth, he really did have a lot on his shoulders, even though everything was done and over with.

“I don’t want to admit it, but I’m dealing with a lot of emotions I don’t understand. Hell, it’s even more terrifying to confront them than it was to confront DIO. Even after defeating him, there is still a lega- no, a path he left behind that needs to be dealt with. He’s dead for good, but the consequences of his actions are still here leaving an impact on me and so many others.” 

“Unfortunately I don’t know if Star Platinum could beat up your emotions…But at least you can beat the crap out of DIO!” You nervously joked, hoping to not border onto the boundary of joking inappropriately. 

“Tch. True.”

One side of the Kujo’s lip halfheartedly curled at your honest yet funny commentary. He honestly needed to help combat with containing the deep-seated emotions that wanted to explode from within. 

As quick as your joke spilled, you shook your head to keep your focus back onto him. It was time to pour your honest intentions to him. Even though he was no longer facing DIO, he was now facing what some might even say was more mysterious and challenging than some century-old vampire. And that was the human mind and its complex rewiring after a traumatic event. You’d never discount your own feelings, but you’d also never leave someone you love to suffer alone. You calmly shut your eyes after you found the courage within you to say what you needed to say. And then you spoke.

“I’m not a therapist by any means but…They were my friends too. It already hurts to have them gone, but it hurts, even more to see you struggling alone with pain far greater than yours.” Your trailing hand froze back onto his shoulder.

“Jotaro. Take what I’m about to say as you will but….” Your body froze as your sudden pause drew his handsome blue eyes and attention back onto you. Yeah, this was a lot easier to say with his strong intimidating appearance not looking you dead in the eye. With a small swallow, you finally said it. “I love you, and I will always be there for you. It would be a disservice to how much we grew together during those weeks to not be there. Whenever you’re ready, and whenever you need me. Just call me and I’ll be there.” 

Jotaro’s eyes didn’t stray from yourself. He was clearly taking what you said into deep consideration. He took in a deep inhale and turned forward. You could feel a load of relief wash over you until suddenly, his large hand placed itself over your much more tinier one. 

“Y/n.”

“Y-yes?”

“Thank you.”

[ravnica-rpg-resource]

The ABOLETH In Ravnica

In this series we will talk about how a monster found in the 5th edition monster manual can be easily inserted into the lore of Ravnica! For this first post we will talk about the ever sinister  mind controlling ancient evil the Aboleth!

The Monster?

The Aboleth is a monster from Dungeons & Dragons(MM pg.13) that looks like a twisted aberrant fish, three eyes lined vertically on the front of their face and a mess of tentacles coming from their tail section, these large sized monsters look like something from Lovecraft's nightmares!

First published in the Dungeons and Dragons module “Dwellers of the Forbidden City” where one act as a simple Guardian to the city. In later books they would be given a deep backstory stretching millennia of power, mind control and a deep hatred for the Gods who deposed them.

In the fifth edition monster manual aboleth are described as existing before the gods did, using their powers of mental control to enslave early man to their whims. Their bodies secrete a unique mucus which mutates anywho touch it changing them into water dwelling thralls. To maintain control over their slaves the aboleth uses a host of psychic abilities such as telepathy and a psychic drain that allows them to feed off of me vitality of its servants. Even if they are slain they merely return to the elemental plane of water where they reform ready to return to the material plane to begin their work again!

In the time before the gods they ruled on high, but when the gods came they deposed these tyrants sending them away to the dark depths of the ocean or fleeing into the elemental plane of water. Perfect memories allow them to remember this slight for all eternity and their psychic abilities allow them to instill these memories into their offspring never forgetting what was done to them....waiting for a chance at revenge!

What Colors Would A ABOLETH Be?

In the section I will briefly talked about the magic the Gathering color pie and where I think the monster would fit inside of it.... and this is an easy one its main color would have to be BLUE. Blue is the color of intellect, mind games and psychic ability which can all be used to describe things the aboleth does well. BLUE is also the color of Aquatic Life, this is not 100% of the time true most of the time if you see an aquatic creature in Magic the Gathering it's BLUE. Due to its cruel manipulative and some might say ambitious nature I would say it secondary colors most definitely BLACK, And I'll even go as far as saying that there is a tertiary color in GREEN due to the aboleth’s mutagenic qualities. I doubt you would see an aboleth card outside of BLUE, but these other colors could be options for multicolored cards.

How to Fit the ABOLETH into the Lore?

The first thing we need to think about is their habitat where do these monsters live? Well as far as we are aware Ravnica has no Elemental plane of water and being a plane of existence that has covered every surface in City structure then surely there's no place where these monsters, right? We'll just so happens that the Return to Ravnica block gives us the answer to this problem.

The merfolk of Ravnica were once thought to be extinct when the oceans were covered to create more space for the ever-growing city of Ravnica, but in the Gatecrash set we learn that this is not entirely true. The merfolk lived Millenia underneath of the city in the Lost oceans that were buried by the expansion, when they returned they sank portions of the city creating the Zonots sinkholes that connect the city to the lost oceans. Now there's our key who's to say that the aboleth were not also locked away for this time trapped under the city in the lost oceans.

Now let's talk about that hatred of the Gods, that is a key characteristic of the aboleth how do we use that in Ravnica where the closest thing we have to gods are the Nephilim and the Guild Parun? The Solution, have one of the people that took their power away from them and exiled them to the Sea be the founder of the guildpact itself Azor the first!

To them have this Sphinx is a interloper. The the aboleth were feeding off the war that Azor stopped, when they tried to take revenge against him he used his powerful Hieromancy to banish these loathsome creatures to the abyss of the sea. Over the centuries denizens of Ravnica have forgotten about them, but the aboleth have not forgotten about the slight made against them! When the original guildpact was broken perhaps they found a way back into the city and are back to their old tactics.

ABOLETH and the guilds?

In this section I will try to connect the aboleth with as many of the guilds as I can, in case you want to use them that way. I am just going with the ones that I can make the easiest connection to between the monster and the guild. if you have a different idea of how they could fit into another guild then do that, these are just my opinion.

-HOUSE DIMIR-

Mind control? Telepathy? The ability to use psychic powers to drain others? The Dimir would welcome these ancient fish monstrosity to the arsenal of Agents happily. I imagine a Dimir aboleth would use underground water works that the Dimir call their base of operations to travel the city in secret. in the water surrounding Duskmantle I would not be surprised if a few of these monstrosities were acting as guards. You also have to remember that the aboleth has a intelligence of 18 according to the monster manual these creatures are in no way dumb and are perhaps one of the most intelligent creatures to exist, they would make excellent agents or field Commanders on missions that are located near a large body of water.

-SIMIC COMBINE-

You could also use them as members of the Simic. The Simic have never shied away from mind control, although it is not their focus. The traits that most draw the aboleth in align with the Simic is their connection with the ocean and their ability to cause mutagenic changes with their foul mucus. If you use them as members of the Simic my advice is to decide first if you want your aboleth to be ancient ocean dwellers like the merfolk who Aid and assist them behind the scenes or a Krasis magically infused monstrosity created using the DNA of different creatures. If you go with the ladder my suggestion would be calling it a “Mindslaver Krasis”. If you go with this idea the storyline could revolve around a Krasis being far more intelligent than its creator and using its ability to manipulate the situation to give them more control.

The way I Plan on Using Them!

This last section will be a review of what the concepts that I went over in this post and placing them in a coherent narrative. This will also be the way I plan on depicting them in my Ravnica game if i use them.

“Before the signing of the guildpact when the plane of Ravnica was in constant turmoil and war. the Aboleth already ancient benefited from the constant fighting, for the aboleth this war had led to a golden age for their empire and they were more than happy to watch it continued from afar, unfortunately for them due to the fact that they did not intervene the interloper Azor the First arrive to end the ceaseless War and create a government that in his machinations would forever keep peace.

Angered by the signing of the guildpact and the ending of the war the aboleth struck against Azor and his new fledgling government. What the aboleth did not know was that Azor was a planeswalker and the more powerful Hieromancer then they could ever have imagined. The Great Sphinx drafted a spell into the guildpact that would forever seal the aboleth under the oceans deep into the abyss of the sea where they could cause no harm to him or the government that he forged. Beneath the Sea the aboleth watched as the great city was built as they were forgotten seething with hate for what Azor had built........waiting.

When the guildpact was finally broken many of the spells that Azor had cast that were bound to the guildpact were also shattered,the Hieromancy that bound the aboleth were among those Spells. Freed the aboleth begin their work waiting for their opportunities to enter the city, many of the aboleth made deals with the dimir who being the keeper of Ravnica secrets never truly forgot about the aboleth and knew how useful they could be to their operations. When the merfolk began making the sinkholes that created the Zonots an easy access point was created for the aboleth to enter the city.

the aboleth have not made themselves know to many yet, but those with Keen eyes have beginning connecting the dots and noticing their machinations. The aboleth are patient and want nothing more than to tear down what Azor has built. One of the main ways that they interfere with the city is by supporting anti guilds sentiments of the gateless by invading the minds of the citizenry and poisoning their view of the guilds. Every now and again people go missing near districts close to water,  these missing people become New Slaves for the aboleth as time goes on they transform their victims into sea spawn(VGtM pg.189) and deep Scions (VGtM pg.135). If someone manages to kill these monsters they simply turn into water to reform back in the dark abyss of the oceans that spawned them, how can you fight against a creature that is manipulative, patient and inevitable?”

That's my take on the aboleth and when I think you should use them in a Ravnica themed campaign. I decided to lease this content early if you like it shoot me a message and tell me what monster I should do next! On Thursday I will be taking a card and finding a stat block for it stay tuned!

[thechocobros]

“SEE LUNA SAFE TO ALTISSIA” - part 17

Pair: Nyx Ulric / Lunafreya Nox Fleuret

Previously: message me so I’ll give you the links ;)

Words: 9344

Plot: Luna and Nyx didn’t fell in the Empire’s trap, Nyx didn’t had to use the ring and he survived. What would have happened if Nyx really had the chance to ‘see Luna safe to Altissia’, like he promised to Regis? Part 17: The final battle has begun. Thinking that Nyx is dead, Luna tries to focus only on her mission to guide Noctis. She is determineted to tell him the truth about the prophecy and to dispose of the malicious Astrals, but this will come with a price ...  

Personal Comment: LAST CHAPTER BEFORE THE EPILOGUE! (an epilogue i accidentally deleted from my drafts but ok -.- ) I’m sorry for the horrible delay, I know I didn’t update in an eternity. I hope this big finale will repay your patience somehow. It was an extremely complicate chapter for me to write, more than the other ones probably, due to the action sequences. But here we are, my fix-it fic is over. It was an amazing journey, I loved it. It was long, difficult, but both Nyx and Luna deserved it. I hope you all think the same.

Let me know what you think, guys :))  I just want to thank @loveiscosmicsin for the costant help she gave me and YOU ALL READERS, because I wouldn’t have finished this novel fic if it wasn’t for your amazing support. I love you all. 

Stay tuned for the epilogue ;)

Luna stood paralyzed before Ardyn Izunia, mouth agape in sheer terror. She was fully aware that the man was the most inconvenient of obstacles at that point of the fight. Leviathan’s power raging in the background she had no energy to face the Usurper at the same time too.

But for some kind of destiny’s joke, the man didn’t seem to have come to fight for now. He bowed deeply instead, taking his hat off in sign of respect.

“My fair princess! How long I have waited to meet you! The pious Oracle - the Personification of Purity - who rebelled to the prophecy that decided your destiny. A model for the future generations, to never accept a fate written by someone’s else hand. I barely was able to contained my joy when you slew the Glacian.”

Lunafreya frowned and pressed her fingers around the indented grooves of the trident, seeking support in its comfortable power. She knew that if things would have turned out badly, she could count on her white magic, but at the same time gears whirred in her brain, seeking for other possibilities. Wit had always been her best weapon since she was nothing but a scared little girl, powerless in front of the cruel Empire.  

“You seem very well informed for a mere chancellor, Ardyn Izunia. So am I.”

“Then permit us to be honest to each other,” Ardyn sang with his mischievous voice, mellifluous enough to impress her, but not enough to mesmerize her.

“I didn’t expect you would response with a smile to the death of one of the Astrals, the very ones who wish to give the true king their blessing.”

“In a matter of speaking, the prince receiving those blessings was originally part of my plan,” he was attentive to not using the word ‘king’. “But perhaps I can handle it better without that condition. I’m a flexible man, after all. Anyway, let’s not speak of myself. I came here bearing gifts! This is an altar where sacrifices are offered afterall” he continued, indicating Leviathan destroying the city just a mile away. The goddess’s tail swept away an entire building in one swift motion.  

Despair filled the atmosphere and soon the bleakness of the situation will embrace the Oracle as well. Luna’s focus on Ardyn was frustratingly deviated by her worry for Noctis who she couldn’t see anymore. Her first instinct was to run straight to him as soon as possible but then Ardyn gestured to the airship that brought him here. The hatch of the ship automatically unveiled an unbelievable sight in the cargo hold. Luna gasped and widened her eyes in disbelief.

The Crystal.

The ancient artifact bestowed upon the Caelum dynasty of yore and the object of desire that Niflheim made off with in the confusion of Insomnia’s mayhem. It retained a calm glow as it was simply anticipating for one to exploit its magic.

“What is the meaning of this?” Luna asked, trying to divert attention away from her confusion.

“Oh, don’t recognize the Crystal when it’s right before your eyes? The Empire, obsessed by their greed and whatever shiny bauble that caught their attention at the moment, hasn’t quite tapped into it.”

“The Draconian and the Infernian are sealed within it,” Luna said, trying to connect the puzzle pieces.

“You’re right. And you should give them a good wake-up call.”

Leviathan moved and another earthquake summoned a sort of small tsunami which almost reached the altar and swept Luna away. When she was able to stand on her feet again, her knees had bled through her dress and Ardyn Izunia was staring at her with the most malicious of the smirks.

“What game are you imposing?” she challenged, raising her voice over the storm, simply not in the mood to entertain him.

Ardyn extended his arms, feigning concord in a circumstance that hardly was.

“Why does everyone jump to that conclusion? Do you think that I’m not capable of charity? Why, I came all this way to bring the Crystal to you.”

No, of course Luna didn’t believe in the gesture or his words for a second. In fact, she immediately considered the option of fleeing while there was still a considerable distance between them, a distance that the Chancellor was aware of.

To awaken two more deities into the chaotic fray would only wrought more destruction upon them all, she knew it too well. But at the same time, she contemplated that an opportunity would be wasted if she didn’t. At any rate, chances of survival after calling upon them were slim, and if she perished, who would have rouse Bahamut and Ifrit in her stead? She had to give Noctis the opportunity to fight the Gods and reclaim the power of the ring at all costs.

Perfectly aware of following Izunia’s twisted games, she decided to do as he asked for now. She aimed her trident toward the Crystal and let the white magic flow from her. She began to sing and pray, perpetuating the ritual, a performance done way too well by now. As the white lights around them flurried, the Crystal started to tremble so much it almost disintegrated, and everything else in the area subjected to silence. Enclosed in the proximity of her calling, there was the reason why both Ifrit and Bahamut shouldn’t have been driven from the Lucian Crystal in such a violent fashion. Once freed, nothing in the universe could encompass the awesome power of their combined antithetic might. But it was now or never and Luna didn’t really have other choice.

In a instant, the Crystal’s energy exploded.

A burst of an raw, unimaginable force.

The incredible effort sapped Luna every ounce of her strength, never had she been close to death’s gate. The blood from her face dissapated, along with breath bated and heart had skipped a beat. The feeling of losing control on her own body overwhelmed her more than the fatigue ever did and more than the illness looming over her. It was unusual and somehow… unclear.

In the depth of the silent absurdity, Luna reached for her stomach, where she felt something indistinguishably protruding from her side.

She blinked, seeing a dark substance coat her fingers. It couldn’t be blood. It was not the right color.

With Luna’s bearings regained, her eyes adjusted to the Chancellor who had enclosed the distance at last, offering a malevolent smile to the Oracle’s confusion. The blade that met the mark of its incision couldn’t be confused with an hazy dream. It was real. 

She had been stabbed.

There was no reason to look for a particular motivation beyond the unexpected act. Retrieving the weapon from Luna’s reach, Ardyn casually wiped the dagger with a handkerchief. Her role fulfilled, she was expendable in his eyes.

As she gasped and instinctively applied pressure to the wound, Luna had a delayed reaction to the pain. She was occupied with the regret of not surviving long enough to speak to Noctis one last time. What would have given to have the chance to make amends, to finally tell him about the prophecy, and giving him the chance to choose to save himself. She would have sold her soul in exchange of the opportunity to apologize, the thought had been on the back burner of her mind, in their correspondance, but it was too late. How selfish she had been before Nyx opened her eyes? All her life, she deluded herself into protecting Noctis by withholding the truth of his destiny? She never told her childhood friend that bearing the Ring would cost him his life and now, it was too late. She didn’t deserve forgiveness, nor mercy. She earned this death sentence.

She lifted her chin, noticing over Ardyn’s shoulders the colossal visages of Bahamut and Ifrit raised from the nothing after their prison was no more.

She also noticed Noctis, standing on the top of a building, looking at the chaos raging against him. He was ready to face Leviathan and probably also the other Astrals, but he was alone and still not at the peak of his power. It turned out clearly he didn’t use the Ring yet. It was just a matter of time before he realized that his only chance of survival was to doing it.

A tear streaked Lunafreya’s cheek. Ardyn best not misunderstood it as a sign of weakness, but desperation filled her veins like never before. She would have told Noctis the truth about the Ring, and permit him to choose his destiny even if it was the last thing she did in this life. 

But it would mean that she would be reunited with her husband in the Beyond.

—————-

Luna didn’t know that Nyx was not dead. He was alive, refusing to stand ground at a crucial moment.

As soon as he understood that the airship was not leading him in the right direction, he warped from one rooftop to the next, never stopping. Things started to be even more complicated after just a couple of minutes when Leviathan was repelled by the Oracle’s magic. Nyx understood that his wife’s negotiations didn’t succeed and chaos erupted. Debris, crashing walls of water, and explosions hailing around him made evading almost impossible. He had to summon all the tricks in the books to reach an intact building where he took cover for a minute to catch his breath. He felt exhausted already and he got nowhere. On the contrary, he lost track of the altar... or what was left of it. In spite of this, he was totally able to see the fight was growing exceedingly violent.

Soon enough he felt ready to warp again, but a different kind of explosion prevent him from doing it. He froze, looking to the sea, outraged by the scene before him. Two huge and threatening entities appeared not very far from Leviathan, raising from the darkness with cries of hysteria and writhing manically as if they were wild beasts released from restraints. Maybe that it was, especially considering the circumstances.

Nyx couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Bahamut and Ifrit?” he murmured, stupefied. Aside from fairy tales, he did not know anything about the Astrals before meeting Lunafreya, but she recently educated him about mythology, even at cost of sacrificing the safe and intimate moments they shared in bed. Not like Nyx could fault his wife’s bad timing of a time and place, it was a terrible habit, but at least the private lessons turned out to be useful. He was now able to recognize the Astrals.

The Glaive was aware that Lunafreya would attempt summoning Bahamut and Ifrit later on, but he was also aware that the Crystal was under the Empire’s control, possibly very far from here. So how come Lunafreya summoned them already? Something he couldn’t known must have happened.

“How is it possible? Where did you find the Crystal?” And then realization hit him like he was struck by lightning. “Izunia!”

The mere pronunciation of that name send a chill up to his spine. If the Chancellor found a way to Lunafreya, it meant that she was in mortal danger. And Nyx couldn’t believe she accepted to envoke two more enraged gods into the fray. It could only mean the situation was desperate.

“Damn, pulling the brave princess act again,” he cursed beneath his breath. He would tell Luna in person soon though. If he got to her in time.

“Nyx!” The unexpected voice which called up for him sounded like the frenzied mix between surprise and relief.

Nyx turned around to meet eyes with the Crown Prince of Lucis, covered in grime and soaked with sea water, a very far image from the one of royal blood would be presented. Now that Nyx knew the prophecy that Noctis should have fulfilled, the one of him becoming the True King of Light, he wondered if the Astrals have been not only malicious but also befuddled all along because there was nothing majestic in that skinny and clumsy young man. The universe dictated that he was the Chosen One? With a small smile, Nyx thought that maybe it was because Astrals thought he would have been the perfect lamb to lead slaughter – silent, pliable and compliant. Like in Lunafreya’s case, bad news were in store for them.

“Your Highness.”

“What are you doing here?”

In that moment Leviathan’s move threw a debris in Noctis’ direction and if Nyx didn’t warp in time, the impact would made its mark.

“About to go save Lunafreya’s ass, but I guess I can make time to save yours.” Nyx yelled in the attempt to be heard in all the confusion. “What’s up with you royal types and attracting the worst of every situation possible?”

Noctis lifted his chin and shoved the Glaive off him.

“It’s not like I asked for this and yet, here I am.”

Nyx sighed dramatically. This wasn’t the time or place to discuss this, so he didn’t comment any further and just helped the boy up.

“We gotta go. Did you use the Ring already?”

“They wouldn’t be alive if I did,” Noctis grunted, staring at the Astrals raging in the distance. “I … still don’t feel ready.”

When he caught the apprehension in those words, Nyx felt hesitation knot inside his stomach. If carrying the ring on a chain on his neck made the Glaive feel like he had a leash, wearing it on the finger must have felt like succumbing to the death. And the prince was nothing but a boy, brave but naive. Strong but inexperienced. Did he sense where putting the ring would have lead him? Did he guessed the required blood prince beyond it? If he did, he didn’t say anything.

“Should I wear it now, Nyx?” Noctis asked instead, looking at the Astrals in the distance. There was so much distress brimmed in his eyes and an hollowed echo in his voice that Nyx almost wished to shield Noctis away from every possible harm. Sadly, fleeing was not an option.

A pointless response was on the tip of Nyx’s tongue and remained unsaid, leaving him insecure of how to answer the prince. He had to have faith in his wife, trusting she would have guided Noctis until the very end, doing the right thing, and revealing him the truth, all with a smile on her lips. His main goal now was to protect them both.

So Nyx took Noctis’ shoulder and pulled him close, to encourage and to assure him he would have stand by his side, no matter what. Noctis seemed grateful for that hasty but heartfelt gesture and exchanging an understatement nod, they warped ahead at the unison.

The prince and the Glaive, off to save their princess.

———

If those were her last breaths, Luna would have used them to blow things in a way that Ardyn couldn’t ever predict.

Watching with distraught eyes of her own blood dripping on slippery stone, she retrieved her trident again, imparting all her power to it. A thick ring of light encircled her, vibrating and taking everything down like a tsunami. Her white magic yearned to reach the target, searching every perimeter of the atmosphere with spasmodic accuracy until it finally found the prince and another very dear person that Luna didn’t expect to sense.

———

Warping closer to the Astrals felt like shooting against the world’s end. It was fire and water, wind and earth, the elements shaken, the certainties lost in a vortex of unknowns. It hurt. It really did. 

If Nyx and Noctis didn’t have each other to rely on, there was no way that they could safely navigate through the vortex of destruction on their own. There was only forward, but obstacles before them forced them to embark detour after detour and time wasn’t on their side.

But then, they sensed Lunafreya. Like a sudden slap on the face, they suddenly knew she was there. They did not see her face, nor her figure. But it was her and she was everywhere.

“Your Highness, it’s time!” Nyx screamed, seizing the prince’s arm as he pointed at Leviathan, the closest divinity. “Take her out, I’ll cover you!”

Noctis nodded to the Glaive and focused, absorbing Luna’s magic from the chaotic atmosphere with deep breaths and closed his eyes. He secured himself to the wall of a building but he was rewarded for his concentration when he begun to levitate, the ancestral Armiger appearing from the nothing and circumnavigated about him.

Nyx looked at him in awe, holding the kukris in his hands, feeling that his own weapons couldn’t compare, much less leave a dent. For a moment he was certain that Noctis would have been fine against Leviathan without his help and such an intuition found confirmation when Noctis projected the first attack.

It was a blast. 

Fueled by the Oracle’s white magic, Noctis warped and slit, weapons serving him like a dozen of new arms. Nothing dared to move again after his lethal and unstoppable contact. Nyx had troubles in following his lead in the chaos but whenever he caught him, he saw him hitting the target with great precision and he felt so proud of him and even more so of Lunafreya, who lent such an outstanding strength to him.

It was then his mind caressed the memory of Luna that he felt his heart ache in the desire of being reunited with her as soon as possible. He quickly gazed the altar and the gods in the distance with renewed resolve and his feet started to move by themselves. First, they trotted, then they ran, and in the end, he warped. Without taking his eyes off Noctis, he got closer to his wife and finally reached for her.

———————

But what he expected to be the fulfillment of his promise and an happy reunion, quickly turned into the worst nightmare when he faced the truth of what happened during his absence. An absence that almost swept away the light from Luna’s eyes.

“Nyx…” she whispered, letting the trident fall and trying to lift herself up from her forearms.

Luna would have thought she was dreaming if the pain she felt reminded her that the time on this world was to a close. 

“Lunafreya!”

Luna lifted her chin enough to see the Glaive warping next to her, panic spreading all over his face. She found again all the details she thought she lost forever: the small tattoos, the braids, the shape of his jaw, the perfect lips now split and covered with blood. His strong arms picked her up, touching her with desperation and at the same time, delicately.

“I thought you were d–” Luna started, but her breath halted abruptly, stealing away her words.

Nyx adjusted her in his embrace and checked her out from the point of her head to the tip of her heels. His heart fell in a black abyss as soon as he noticed the wound on her abdomen and the urge of doing something almost brought him to the edge of the sanity.

“I’m fine!” When he screamed, he was angry. Damn, he was so angry. This was not supposed to be happening. “What happened to you? What–?” A grimace of pain moved on Luna’s beautiful forehead and she felt the urge to hide her face in his neck to alleviate her suffering. She wanted to cry because he was real, he was alive, and she was dying instead. Where she was headed was somewhere her Nyx would not be.

“Nyx. Nyx…” Her voice was on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry. I did all that I could, I–”

“Hey, the prince got the Ring, okay? He’s gonna fix this mess. You did it. Now look at me. Stay with me. You’re not dying on my watch, Lunafreya.”

Luna smiled and looked at him expectedly.

“You did your job. You delivered the Ring to Noctis… and you came back as promised.” Nyx got drawn by the sweetness in her tone and in that moment everything around them disappeared, the raging Astrals, the decadent city, the chaos, the wounds. It was just the two of them, looking at each other in the eyes, trying to stop the time and capture eternity in the middle.

“Told you I would,” Nyx whispered, caressing her cheek with the thumb, wiping away the water of the ocean. Or maybe, it was her tears.

“Thank you… My dearest Nyx. Help Noctis now, I beg this of you. I beg you.”

“You still have to tell him about the Ring,” Nyx said, frantically, hoping to offer her more reasons to stay, like his wish to remain forever together wasn’t enough.

Luna surprised him by answering, “I will.”

Her promise left Nyx speechless. Then her lips moved, but no sound that he could make out until he leaned in. She gained all her remaining strength to whisper, “I love you” and closed her eyes, looking so tired and pale.

Nyx’s eyebrows furrowed, panic stirring in his chest as soon as he understood what was happening. The acutest pain hit him and paralyzed him. He wanted to say something but couldn’t. His lips were trembling badly. Tears pushed and asked to be released, but he couldn’t do that either. So he just stared at his wife, numb.

“Nyx!” Nyx recognized the voice. It was Noctis, calling for him from a close distance, like an echo, it barely reached him. Another voice joined, a different one, with an aristocratic accent.

“Noct!” This was Ignis. He arrived there, too.

But the Glaive ignored them both. He kept staring at Luna. He got closer to her lips and pressed his forehead to hers, trying to gift her his warmth, praying in vain to save her. 

When he failed, he felt the world stop moving.

—————–

When he almost finished Leviathan off, Noctis had ran toward the altar, sensing Luna’s magic abandoning him. The attempt had caused him pain not only because Leviathan’s hysteria: Bahamut had joined the battle, taking the Goddess of the Sea’s side and throwing the young Prince in the ocean like he was a mere puppet. Noctis couldn’t explain how he survived that.

He felt the Ring calling for him, asking to be used but he did his best to ignore it, certain he had to wait a bit longer. Just a bit longer.

So Noctis swam to the river, Luna’s white magic sneaking away from his veins. As soon as he reached the altar he understood why. She was dying. So pale, so beautiful, curled in Nyx’s arms.

“Nyx!” he called, but then Noctis fell to his knees, a sudden tiredness embraced him. Something else was happening, something inside him. He didn’t even had the time to panic because energies were quickly abandoning him. He had the time to look for the Ring in his pocket, pressing it against the palm of his hand.

“Noct!”

The prince turned aside and noticed Ignis alongside with Ravus. He smiled to his loyal advisor then his sight got blurry. The ring toppled to the pavement and he fainted.

————-

Ravus was still paired up with Ignis when they headed for the altar. But as the High Commander’s breath hitched in seeing his sister’s corpse, Ignis ran to Noctis’ side instead and quickly checked his pulse. Sensing it was still there, he sighed in relief but at the same time searched for the cause of his fainting and founded nothing but the ring beside him. He took it with justified fear and then swallowed, turning around to look at Nyx and Ravus.

The Glaive was huddled there, staring at the woman in his arms. His eyes were empty, haunted by the final words bestowed to him. Not even Ravus, destroyed by seeing his sister lifeless, could equal his level of numbness.

Ignis understood. He understood far better than Noctis or Ravus ever could. He knew what meant dedicating your life to someone and not being able to protect that person in spite of every effort. If Noctis wouldn’t been revived, he would have felt dejected from existence in the same way. So he stood up, thinking of getting closer to Nyx and Ravus to offer them comfort, but there was not time for mourning because the Astrals were still raging in the distance and because someone appeared not very far from them.

“Ardyn!” Ravus seethed, recognizing him.

“Hello there. What a happy reunion in such a distressful time.” 

Ignis quickly assumed a defensive position, certain that he wouldn’t have let him closer to Noct or Luna. “Nyx Ulric! On your feet!” he called, praying that the Glaive would abandon his comatose status and react because they needed him now more than ever. “Nyx!”

When Nyx lifted his eyes, there was death inside. "Give me the Ring,” he said.

Ignis gasped. Nyx knew what using the ring would mean. When Insomnia was under attack he saw Ravus using it and suffered the consequences. Lunafreya had told him that Noctis himself - the Chosen one - would have consumed his life for using it. So when he asked to Ignis to hand him the Ring, he knew that what would have been the consequences, but he just didn’t care. Lunafreya, his princess, his wife, his reason to live, had died in his arms and this made him reckless. His life meant nothing now she was gone. He failed his mission. He didn’t protect her. To atone for such a sin, he would have sacrificed his life to kill the murderous Astrals and maybe also the Usurper, so Noctis didn’t have to.

“No, Nyx. Using the Ring is a right reserved to the True King and only Noct –” Ignis started, but got interrupted by the Glaive’s prompt response.

“You wouldn’t use it if it was Noctis in Lunafreya’s place?”

Ignis didn’t reply, averting his gaze with a grimace. So when Nyx reached for the Ring, Ignis hesitated just for a second before handing it over to him. Damn the consequences.

It was fast. Nyx wore it before Ignis’, Ravus’, and Ardyn’s shocked eyes. And the darkness fell on that dimension, bringing Nyx face to face with the powerful kings of the past.

—————————-

Blades of grass caressed Noctis’ cheek and he woke up. At the beginning he couldn’t recognize the perfume of the sylleblossoms, too much time was passed since he last smelled it. Twelve years, probably.

As he stood up and the blue color of the flowers filled his eyes, he understood he was inside a dream, there was no other explanation to such a contrasting scenery. Trapped inside the body of when he was just a eight years old boy, he looked around, searching for Luna, the only one he shared the memory of the sylleblossom field with.

“Noctis?”

There she was, the younger version of her. Blond hair on her tiny shoulders, the cute little dress, she was exactly like he remembered in her fondest memories.

Noctis felt his heart warming up, childhood dreams filling with bittersweet tenderness his mind repressed from the associated pain of her visage.

“Luna?”

“So you found your way here.”

Noctis stood up and looked at her. Once again, they were two children in a flower field, talking surrounded by peace.

“And you found me” Noctis whispered then, comforted by that thought.

“A chance to see you once more. Who would have thought?”

“Luna. Where are we? What’s happening?”

“I needed to have a moment to speak with you, Noctis. Before I go.”

“Go where?”

In that moment, the wind swished graciously and Luna’s beautiful white dress follow the breeze, getting longer in the air. When Noctis lifted his chin to look at her again, the child was gone and an adult woman, mature and emotionally drained, replaced her instead. Still, she was beautiful.

“Where you can’t follow, Noctis. I’m dying. I enjoyed my moments of happiness. Since I left my goodbyes with Tenebrae months ago, I knew this day would have come,” she whispered, but her echo could be heard from the distance in the irisdescent atmosphere. “The Astrals ordained my death and rebelling against them came with a price. I’m ready to the fare as long as you, Nyx, and the all of Eos are preserved.”

The mention of that name in the conversation woke doubts in Noct’s mind. Even if he was trapped inside the body of a child, his memory of an adult was able to reach for the image of Luna dying with Nyx’s lips on hers. That caused him pain but also a dazzling feeling of emptiness.

“You love the Glaive, don’t you?”

Luna let a second pass and then nodded.

“I was happy, Noctis. He made me happy, even for just a little while. So don’t think you couldn’t save me because in a way... He did already when nobody else could.”

Noctis forgot how to use the tongue to speak for at least one minute straight. The feeling inside his heart was confused and uncertain, very similar to the frustration of not being able to do what he always wished to: helping Luna.  

“What… What should I do then? What do you want me to do?”

“Your burden is heavy enough. You still must banish the Darkness from our Star, Noctis. Ardyn Izunia is the Usurper and even if we’d succeed in killing the malicious Astrals, he still would try to have his revenge on your lineage. The only power able to destroy him is the one restrained in the Ring, but about that you must be warned of something your father and I never had the courage to share with you.”  Luna could barely conceal her sadness looking at the child she shared so many fond memories with. He really cared for her, as much she cared for him. It was about time to speak him the truth and guide him one last time before parting ways. They were like parallel lines, after all, always so close, never destined to entwine.

“What is it about?”

“The Kings ask for a blood price. The Old Wall can be summoned from drawing the essence of your life.”

“Does it mean I’m gonna die…?”

Luna’s heart ached.

“So speaks the prophecy, Noctis.” The spark died in the boy’s eyes and Luna had only a faint hope to offer him. If she would have suggested him a corect line of action which implied saving his life, she would have considered her calling of Oracle really fulfilled. Guiding him was her mission, after all. Making him happy was her wish. “But you can defeat it, together with your best friends and with the loyalty of the Glaives like Nyx. So many people are ready to stand by you all along, Noctis. So many people are ready to challenge fate to see you safe. Not a single life will be taken if you will share your burden with all of them.” 

“Share my burden…? How?”

“Inside the Crystal, you’ll find an answer. The Kings of Yore will show mercy to their descendants. Once you’re inside there, your trials will start and you’ll enter into reflection. Remember you’re not alone. If you’ll keep in mind that you don’t have to carry your burden alone, you’ll manage to survive the cruel fate the gods chose for you.” 

A sudden and far noise broke the peace of the meadow. The sylleblossoms delicately waved, the earth underneath their feet did, too.

Noctis panicked a bit like the kid he seemed, while Luna looked upon the sky with sad eyes. Understanding what was happening, she got so close to tears and had to battle a lot to be strong.

“What’s going on up there?” Noctis screamed. The dream they were trapped in started to collapse. 

“You belong to the realm of the living, Noctis” said Luna then, aware of running out of time, “Godspeed. Reclaim your throne. Nyx has certainly used the Ring already like the stubborn fool he is. Don’t let the Kings burn him alive for his recklessness, I beg of you. Join forces with him.” 

The sylleblossoms around them started to melt and moved like waves of water. Still, Noctis had questions.

“What about you?” Luna shook her head in response. “No! Luna!” The mysterious flow pulled Noctis away from his friend and no matter how much the boy streched out to reach for her, he just couldn’t touch her.

Luna didn’t ask to be saved though. She was smiling, because she told Noctis the truth in the end because Noctis would have saved Nyx and together they would have saved the world.

Her duty was done.

Her calling finally fulfilled.

———————

Nyx found himself floating in an indefinite blue space, surrounded by darkness and clueless of what expecting next. He figured that such a place was an alternate dimension used by the Kings to get in touch  with the mortals but he couldn’t be sure. Yet, all that space, with no appropriation of space or size, made him even more anxious than he already was. He was sure that the Kings of Lucis wouldn’t have welcomed his impudent initiative, so he stood there alone for a long minute, in silence and uncertainty, contemplating the possibility of his imminent death.

“Show yourselves, Kings of Lucis!” he called out in the end, tired of waiting.

Like they were sparks of blue fire bursting out of a volcano, the spirits of the kings appeared all around him, minacious and powerful. They didn’t make a sound nor move a breeze. What did he expect from ghosts? And Nyx hoped that ghosts may go gentle on him.

“You call upon the wards of this world’s future, mortal. And if you come lusting for our power, you must first stand in our judgment,” one of them started. Nyx thought it was the most important among them so he turned around until he faced him.

“You did nothing as Insomnia burned and now, you did nothing as the woman who did so much to preserve the light in the world - the woman who dared to challenge the gods when nobody of you did – suffered and died. She is the blood of the Oracle, but you let her alone in this fight!”

Nyx’s voice trembled as he spoke so, but didn’t end it there. On the contrary it screamed out loud. He was angry, he was in agony, he was ready to fight not only the Gods but also the ghosts of the Kings of Lucis in order to receive even the slightest hope of bringing Lunafreya back. The pain of having lost her had hurt him so badly that he was ready to try and risk everything. He would have gladly got down in hell, sunk his feet in the river Styx and fought the devil himself if it was necessary. Everything. Everything to keep her safe - or in this case, to bring her back.

He didn’t want to think it was over and that she was lost forever, not yet, but he couldn’t deny that the situation was kinda desperate.

“Man is a fool creature, clinging to his past and cowering from his future” answered the Kings in fact. “Wasting his strength on bygone days. And what future are you wards of? So shortsighted. And cursed never to rise above it. It does not fall to us to guard your city or your woman.”

“But it falls to you to guard the future!” Nyx screamed back.

“Guarding the future is something we do of our own accord. At a time we so choose.”

“The longer you wait, the more the world burns! Old or new, or whatever it is, give me your power. Now! Destroy the gods. Banish the darkness. If you can’t save her, don’t let Lunafreya’s death be in vain!” Nyx’s voice was starting to get not only reckless, but also really desperate. With Lunafreya gone and the prince unconscious, if the Kings of Lucis would have refused to help him too, there would be no hope.

He wanted to save everything and everyone, it was something written in his blood and he couldn’t help with it.

“You do not command us. Yours is not even royal blood.”

That statement hit Nyx’s nerves. He couldn’t believe that the Kings would have been so irrational and stubborn to refuse his request just because he wasn’t a member of the royal family. Truth to be told, he could have asked nicely, but there was no time for it. They had to listen to him, and quickly. So he opened his mouth to try to work out a response and give them a piece of his mind when another voice joined the conversation, interrupting him.

“His may be not. But mine is.” 

Nyx boggled and turned around in shock.

He may have not spoken with that voice so often, but he would have recognize it between a milion similar ones.

Noctis was standing there, some steps away from him, lifting his chin to face the Kings, an unspoken courage on the face. He was raising his right hand in the air and it was then when Nyx noticed the ring on his finger. Puzzled and confused, the Glaive checked his own hand, seeing that the ring had dissapeared from there to materialize on the prince’s. This caused an hesitant smile dawning on his face.

“The Ring. How…?” Nyx whispered, adressing to Noctis. “How come you’re here?”

Noctis glanced at him briefly and smiled wryly. “Luna.”

That name made Nyx’s heart lighten and enlarge. “You spoke with her…?” he asked increduolously. 

Despite his question, Noctis walked ahead, ignoring him to address the Kings instead.

“Father.” One of the shadows twirled gently and bent down, getting closer to Noctis with obvious familiarity. He didn’t say anything, so Noctis did first, “Grant to Nyx Ulric to go on living. I’m gonna need him as much as I’m gonna need the support of my friends. That’s how I can defeat the prophecy, isn’t it?”

“The prophecy is matter of the gods and the Kings put it into action. You must know by now that the power of the Ring costs a life because it’s fed with vital energy. No one can change this” the mechanical voice of the ghost king replied. 

“What if each one of us sacrifice a piece of their own life instead?” Noctis asked it as a question, but he looked pretty confident about his suggestion. “In that case, you’d have your blood debt and we all would survive long enough to enjoy the light of the dawn for years.”

A deep silence fell among the ghosts of the kings.

“Who plotted this scheme?” Someone asked. Surprisingly enough, there was stupor in the question like they were outraged that someone actually dared to elaborate such a proposal.

Noctis didn’t answer but his grin milded with a tender expression, revealing the truth without speaking a word.

Luna.

It was certainly her the one behind the suggestion.

King Regis - it was clear it was him under the solid armor which made him hard to recognize - stepped ahead, slowly. “For years I mourned your fate, Noctis. I would have done anything to save you and I still would. But your life is very high valued, your request cannot be granted so easily. If we accept, how many people would have to share your burden when it was meant to be only yours to bear?”

“I don’t know. How many people died for me until now? Without my knowledge?”

Regis boggled at the veiled accusation, hit right in the feelings. In his mind shocking images of Insomnia’s destruction probably appeared, because he immediately seemed to submit.

“I’m sorry, Noctis. I was only trying to spare you the pain... I thought your destiny couldn’t be changed.”

Noctis’ face frowned in suffurance. “I wish I knew about what gods had in store for me, Dad. We would have find a solution together. And maybe … you’d still be here, too.” The boy almost started to cry but he quickly hid the feelings behind a mask of resolution, determined to settle down the right priorities. He looked at his finger, were the ring was positioned. Glowing with a menacious shade of red, it looked like an horrible instrument of death.

“But we can still change destiny, Dad. I’m going to get home back. Trust me. Believe in me.

King Regis took a long minute before nodding. For some reason, Nyx imagined he was smiling under the helm.

“My wayward son is ready to be a king, then” he said then, a voice so human in spite of the eerie reverberations. And he stepped back, to rejoin the rest of the Kings. “He’s right. A lot of people will be ready to lend him their strength. We must prepare to pay our blood debt and Noctis will do what he must. Let’s grant him our power and send the Glaive back with him.”

There was a long silence, but for some reason, the King who spoke first - the most hostile one - didn’t bother to object. It was like he trusted King Regis completely even if he was technically the latest addition to the club.

“Very well, Chosen. You and the impudent Glaive return to the realm of the living. We’ll grant you our powers. And then you’ll enter into Reflection, for you, the journey has just begun.” 

But Noctis didn’t seem to be satisfied yet.

“The world is going to need a guide while I’m inside the Crystal. Who should I trust for this? Ravus? I don’t think so. You all know that Eos always looked to only one person for inspiration,” he added, knowing exactly he was crossing a line he shouldn’t have get close to. Asking to the Kings a ressurection when he just obtained the greatest powers almost for free was really… audacious. In spite of this, there was the sparkle of a smile on his lips. Like he knew that Kings wouldn’t ever deny anything to their beloved last heir.

Nyx realized he was not so shameless compared to him. And for this reason, he promised his eternal loyalty to that young King instantly. 

“Now, now, Young King. We take lives, we don’t give them” one of the Ancestors replied though. “The favor you’re asking is something only the gods are able to grant. Throw them on your feet and they shall do as you order. They will give back the life they slowly sucked away all along. The Oracle is not of our concern.”

Noctis turned. He and Nyx shared a deep and meaningful glance.

Nyx didn’t know what to say, so great was the confusion and the emotion. He just saw history being written under his very own eyes and he could barely realize it.

“Of course. The Six ripped off Luna of her white magic, and if we kill them one by one, they’re gonna give back what they took. Luna’s life included. So, we can stick to our original plan” Noctis whispered, opening the palms of his hands and closing his eyes. The Ring glowed again, glowing red, and Nyx understood they were going back to reality with an unbelievable pact sealed with the old Kings of Lucis. Unable to formulate into words the strong emotion he felt inside, he just stepped ahead, closer to Noctis. As he reached for his shoulder, King Regis interrupted him in the attempt of stealing another promise.

“Nyx Ulric. You used the Ring and this will take a major tool on you, no matter if you’ll survive or not. The old wall is no joke and you was so reckless to ask for it. However, I am getting used to trust you with the lives of the dearest people I still have on earth, because I know you didn’t let me down and never will. Take care of my son.” 

Nyx took only one instant to figure what Regis wanted to say. The Ring was made of black magic, the darkest and the most powerful one. If it was true that the life price would have requested a certain amount of strength from Noctis’ best friends, a major price would have come upon Nyx, because he dared to use the Ring, going way too far. He couldn’t think of playing with fire without getting burned. At the same time, he couldn’t regret trying. So he nodded with a serious expression.

Regis probably was satisfied of his courage, so he added, “However, once that Luna is back, she will help you fighting the darkness of the Ring’s repercussions. Godspeed.”

And if that was the deal to be struck, the darkness didn’t scare him.

So, he smirked like he was used to, “Where do I sign?”

——————-

With a flash made of light, they returned back to reality.

Ardyn didn’t got any closer and the Gods were still raging behind, so both Nyx and Noctis realized that just a couple of seconds had passed since they left the real world to speak with the Gods.

So they didn’t lose any more time, they both sprinted up on their feet and summoned their weapons, Nyx the kukris, Noctis all the ancestral weapons in his arsenal. Shoulders against shoulders, they shared a nod and silently agreed on what to do.

They parted ways without even the need to wish each other “good luck”, because no luck was needed. They both had the power of the Kings of the past and that was an assurance of victory already.

Noctis threw himself agaist the Astrals first, knowing they were the priority if they wanted to clear the path to Ardyn and if they wanted Luna back. With the Ring on his finger he was unstoppable and lethal while Leviathan was heavily injured already. He didn’t took a lot of time to knock them off, one by one, but Nyx didn’t notice anyway. In fact, everything happened so fast that Nyx could barely aknowledge the sequence of action at all. He didn’t have the time to see Noctis killing Leviathan and Bahamut, then Ifrit, then summoning Titan and Ramuh and dispose of them too. He didn’t have the time because he was busy keeping Ardyn occupied until Noctis would have been back and he did it amazingly.

Like Regis’ ghost warned him, the power of the ring was taking a toll on his body already. He was feeling the dark magic of the Kings running through his veins, leaving marks similar to burning cinders on his skin. In spite of this, he didn’t bother. He would have kept the promise he made to Regis: he would have stood by Noctis side, no matter at what cost. He would have gifted him his own vital energy at the right moment. And he would have survived to see Luna running back in his arms.

Nyx learned that hope was the most powerful magic in his own arsenal. Without it, he wouldn’t have been the hero everyone labeled him with when for the first time in forever, he felt to stand the title.

Thinking of this, the power of the ring overwhelmed him to the point he completely lost the control on time. Maybe the pride and the self condidence were pushing him towards the darkness quicker than he could expect. Once again, he didn’t care.

Ignis and Ravus came to help him and that was when Ardyn himself started to lose the fight. All of a sudden, the Usurper couldn’t avoid the blows delivered by the kukris, nor the trajectory of the magic, and Nyx felt the darkness inside him getting stronger and stronger, he lost his soul to it.

He kept casting death spells, until the climax brought him to the point where he could barely remember how to breathe.

That was the moment when a voice called for him.

“Nyx, that’s enough.” 

He couldn’t stop immediately, even if he wanted to. He kept attacking Ardyn, like another wave of darkness had deleted his rationality, replacing it with pure fury. It was not until he recognized the voice calling him that he halted.  

“Nyx.”

He gasped.

His vision blurred.

He stopped this time.

He let the kukris falling on the ground and all of a sudden he felt like the powers of the ring abbandoned him, which made him kneel down and almost faint. His heart missed a beat, confused by the lack of adrenaline he previously lost himself to. If a pair of pale arms didn’t embrace him, he would have certainly crushed his face to the ground.

The scent of her hair hit him first. Then the warmth of her skin. Nyx sighed deeply, finding relief even before completely aknowledging what was happening. He used his last reserves of strength to hug her so tight that he feared losing her if he didn’t hold her close.

“Ardyn is gone,” she whispered in his ear, delicate like a sylleblossom and gentle as a breeze. 

He was not instead. Trembling and panting, the Glaive asked harshly, “Is he dead?” 

“No, my love. But he will be, one day. By the hand of our King, not ours.”

Fair enough.

Only then, Nyx sighed deeply, slowing regaining control on his muscles. As the power of the kings started to leave his body, he felt the skin melting and the brain going empty. He almost wanted to cry to give to vent the numbess, but he ended up abandoning himself to her, burying his nose in her hair.  

“We both did enough, Nyx. Let’s take a break.”

Her voice was so calm, and that was the only thing that prevent him from falling apart.

Nyx flinched back to look at her, eager to involve other senses in the relief of having her back. And Lunafreya was there, real and alive. He admired the square shape of her jaw, the bones of her collarbone, the crystal blue of her beautiful eyes. She was covered in powder and dirty water, but she never looked so human and beautiful. He immediately reached for her cheeks, to caress them and wipe away a tear stemming from the source.

“You’re back,” he whispered, still shaking. The spirals similar to burning cinder reached his neck, but the only touch of Lunafreya’s hand took it away with a glow. Her healing magic was his cure. Not even when he made love to her thinking there was no tomorrow, he felt more intimately connected to her like when she cured him in that specific situation. She literally sucked away the darkness inside him with the delicate touch of her fingers and that felt like heaven. With a sigh of relief, he leaned forward to kiss her smile. When they interrupted the kiss a minute later, she finally managed to nod. 

“What did you offer to the Kings in exchange of my life?” 

“Nothing more than what we already planned to offer. The lives of the Six.”

Luna opened her mouth in disbelief and immediately checked the marks on her stomach. Nothing was visible under her thin and white dress, which meant they were all gone. The knife wound created by Ardyn was gone, too, and only the stain of the dark blood smudged the fabric. The destruction of the gods inverted the course of her destiny, exactly like they originally expected. When Noctis killed them, their death gave back her life, her magic and her health.

Realizing this, Luna gasped but the shock on her face was well concealed by the calm of her inner confusion. She was just too surprised to actually show it. She just stood like that, Nyx’s hands on hers, and said nothing.

In the meantime, around them the fog had cleared, revealing that Ardyn had dissapeared. Ravus and Ignis - exausted by the surreal fight - limped toward Nyx’s and Luna’s direction, dismay on their faces that in Ravus’ case quickly turned into excitement.

“Lunafreya!” he screamed, shamelessly stealing her from Nyx’s arms to hug her like he never did before. Luna gladly accepted his affection for once, wondering why she had to die before seeing his brother act like when they were children. “You were dead. How…?”

Nyx stood up with difficulty, looking at the weird spirals on his burning skin slowly dissapear, leaving behind scars. Shelving the mixed feelings he had towards the Ring’s blood price and Noctis’ survival, he focused on the view of Altissia around them.

Destruction and chaos was everywhere.

The corpse of the gods had dissapeared immediately after their death, but the signs of their rage remained in the felled buildings and broken bridges. The darken clouds in the sky opened a little, so the weak rays of sunshine could touch the flowers destroyed by the water, the upside down tables and chairs of the restaurants and the broken glasses of the windows. It was a distressing view, but Nyx could only feel relief.

The Gods were gone. Somehow, they accomplished the impossible. But if the battle was won, so it wasn’t the war. Izunia was still alive and he would have spread the Darkness upon all Eos. 

As a matter of fact, he looked for Noctis and noticed him up there where what was left of the altar was located. He stood all alone with the Crystal next to him. Even from the distance, the ring on his had was extremely visible, as much as the sad expression on his face.

His eyes met Nyx’s, and he smiled. That look meant a lot for them both. It meant “I will be back soon I promise”, “go, we’ll settle the rest”, “hold on until the day I will reclaim the throne”, “take care of them” and also … “take care of her”. Nyx somehow understood all the layers of the glance and simply nodded, clenching the jaw in a nervous and silent movement.

Then, Noctis quickly glanced back at Ignis, looking for Prompto and Gladiolus who were running in their direction. A soft smile warmed up his expression. In that moment, Nyx noticed that something was different in him, already. His way of standing tall was different, his shoulders were straighten up, his face looked more mature. And when he turned his back to his friends to enter inside the Crystal, Nyx observed the awareness in his walking.

The young prince would have been a great King once he would have come out of the Crystal. He would have lived long enough to rule well on Eos, sharing his burden with his loyal friends. With him, too.

While he was thinking at this, Luna’s fingers slid between Nyx’s ones, delicate as feathers. The Glaive turned to watch her positioning next to him, holding up to his arm. Her eyes were glowing like diamonds under the rays of the sun, a sun that would have shown rarely in the next years.

Nyx found inspiration in watching her, knowing that she would have lead Eos during Noctis’ absence, spreading hope in his return.

So, it was it. The moment of the separation had come. Darkness would have fallen upon them. But it would have been temporary.

Nyx and Luna stood in silent reverence as they watched their future King dissapear inside the Crystal, leaving the burden of the world on their shoulders.

[oelfinessend]

For all that you have thought

Time to dump my fic drafts here! 

Or, where Loki is an actual god and I explore the incomprehensiveness of the concept and differences in biology. Unbeta-ed and really, is very raw. 

Loki moves in his prison like a creature unknown, born in all the worlds and none, created among the stars with the sole purpose of being confusing. The guards try to not look at their former commander and thus miss the way he sometimes flinches and cocks his head and turns slightly to look somewhere past glittering walls.

The tickle is annoying at best, but mostly aggravating; Loki can’t pinpoint its source or origins, his mind constantly distracted by that same non-corporeal itch. Some days it’s almost gone and some he is ready to break something, not at all unlike a mindless brute, which is the only reason Loki keeps himself in control.

After one particularly intense bout of distraction he arrives to the conclusion that it is Odin who allows this - not the great punishment, but a mediocre, annoying distraction, that will, unfortunately yet unerringly, lead Loki’s vast mind into ruin. So he grits his teeth and focuses in it, trying as the process might be, catches the illusive thread and smiles as he finally, finally pinpoints it; it has been centuries since they were banned from Midgard, and even then, during his last stay there had never been a plethora of those who would call Loki their own.

But those who would, followed him always.

Loki smiles, inhales and pulls back.

For a lesser being, an ignorant As, or flighty Ljosalfr it would be impossible to right themselves and become the master of the summons, but Loki has been delving deep into knowledge lost and vaults forgotten, he has taught himself what Bor decided to bury forever under the bones and ashes of svartalfar, who had skirted on the edge since their suns were young.

Loki twists himself among the calling threads of rude, invading seidr, tugs at them gently and finally as soon as the oppressive presence of Hlidskjalf is no more on his back, Loki spreads his own will and might and is finally free.

He manifests a splaying shadow among the ruined, blood-soaked stones. Here, the ancient rituals are still carried in the very ground underneath his bare feet. At first Loki thinks that it’s a peculiar coincidence that the new blood awoke the old and he was called, but he cannot recall that place of worship, and he has never liked when all finesse and knowledge of proper calling was cast aside in favour of massive sacrifices.

There are three runes of his, even if arranged improperly, carved with unsure but strong hand in the altar; they are the ones that ensure that Loki hears the pleas, and old victims of this place only helped the prayers to reach him through the thick magicks of Asgard. They, and Odin’s own dismissal; Loki was released from Asgard’s numbers, cast from it’s seidr’s protective shroud and thus became immune to All-Father’s ban of influencing mortals.

Loki’s laugh is everything dark and triumphant as he makes himself visible above the stone. He is not a deity in this moment - so much more, fed by stolen worship-power and his own joy, and the disbelief and elation his summoners feel, the despair and anguish their victims fall into, it all is directed at him, in him, and Loki drinks it all, formless and bright in his blackness, like a sky of stars or nocturnal waters.

The summoner who crawls towards him, Loki knows, is babbling something, but even so drunk on power he is not mindless and so he turns his head - a nebula of singing movement - to the girl spread out on the hard stones.

  why her he wants to know and so his question is heard. The child is nude, and thin and hungry. Loki wished her mind was calm and so she sleeps, and sees the pink skies of Alfheimr shine with predawn.

  she is frail, small and lacking in knowledge Loki’s musings is more of a presence in mind than a voice, a sound wave.

  what is a higher being to do with such a gift and how to crown such a thought

Loki whispers on his many terrible legs across the blood-remembering stones and symbols calling for gods he knows not, recalls not and cares for not.

Eight mortals was given to him so far - five more are awaiting him still; but Loki has no need for blood, no desire for power, no lust for idle madmen’s worship.

He sighs - the water flows to sky from springs nearby and the altar turns to dust, the girl, still sleeping, covered with a blanket made of his will.

  children are but promises of future Loki finally deigns to hum, turning the ground he reclines on to glass, and the one who waited to put a knife to frail mortal skin just turns into nothing.

Among the frenzied, crazed thoughts bombarding him there is one of clarity; vicious and pointed, there is satisfaction, dark victory and even darker gratefulness Loki feels turned onto him, onto his shapeless, many-faceted being, That’s better.

Many burning, blackless eyes turn onto the man called Jake and Loki becomes Jake for as much as a frail and little mortal mind can allow; and so Jake becomes Loki, for as much as he can bear to witness the form not fit to shape itself on mortal, corporeal planes of Earth.

Jake is a simple man, an accountant who likes his job enough, loves his husband very much and their girls even more. Him and Mike have been planning this trip for almost two years and the twins were ecstatic, and he doesn’t want to die, having heard now every scream those motherfuckers wrought out of other people in their group; but Jake also is grateful it was him who got to ride in the second bus, and not Mike, because poor Isa is only a year and a half older than his girls, and he would have probably gone insane already if either of them was here.

He wishes every last one of those motherfuckers dead, surely but slowly, excruciatingly dead, for every scream they wrought out of poor Ann and Sarah - they were eighty, for fuck’s sake - and sweet little Rose (she was five, five, at five Emma was playing pranks at Sophie and driving both Mike and Jake up the walls) and her poor lab, slightly crazy Derek, Carl, that strange chick who had five names, so Jake didn’t address her and called That Chick in his head, Paul and Tom, unfortunate heirs to a frankly mediocre fortune.

But Isa is sleeping and smiling in her sleep and something has just swallowed the raving lunatic up or maybe disintegrated him, Jake doesn’t care; he wants them gone and to be finally at peace.

what peace is there while you still live The Voice again is in his head, knocking out thoughts and making room for Itself. Jake’s brain can keep up with what that mind part of him is perceiving - a shape among the roads paved with comets, a mind cradling his own and shaping the very air to make a room for Itself. The Voice is filling his body now, a herald of the Mind, which Jake is helpless to push against, but he is not going to - he is bared, so he can take in return.

He knows -

There was a man, a woman, someone, long time ago for them of everchanging Earth, who caught the glimpse of the Mind, like that, and accepted, fully, the knowledge of Its existence and presence, agreed to be the latch and burden.

A balance between living the life for themselves and being devoted to something you have to let go to fully grasp is the only sort of prayer Loki takes, covets, a greedy being, the benefactor of the scholars of Asgard.

Among the dirtied and craven shouts of blood-spillers, Jake’s thought is clear and aimed right at him, at Loki, so Loki will bow so, turn to him who has freed himself to see as much as was allowed; as such will Jake belong to Loki, now; his sight was claimed, his freedom, settled.

And that is fine, Jake knows, if fall, then why not onto the stars?

The flow of mangled seidr ends as soon as the last of madmen is crushed under Loki’s will; as such, he is no longer torn apart by their expectations of him, fear of him and greed for him, his own unwillingness to take a useless corporeal form, or which one to choose. The girl is sleeping still, the blanket turned into leaves, three mortals have become senseless somewhen after his arrival and only his Jake still stands and watches, somewhat detachedly, as Loki allows his form to settle into one he is most used to, then shapes the matter around him into clothing, nondescript but suited for him nonetheless. He may be disowned, he is not lacking in pride.

Thin trickle of awareness is still present - will be until the end of the mortal’s short life, Loki already knows - and it gives him warmth as nothing else.

“What, are you, like, my- my god, or something?” Jake stutters, watches him, pale and drawn, unsure.

“I am Loki, first, last and always.” Loki simply answers and that seems to settle the mortal.

They have a long way to go - there is already a restlessness rising in Jake’s chest, a desire to know what comes next, and as much as Loki can relate, he is displeased, because he laid claim and all questions not to him but about him have become redundant.

No matter, he shifts, yawning, into a canine-like shape and trods away from humans, sniffing at the air and spreading his seidr wide to catch a glimpse of a creature he can mirror.

In a few minutes, there is a howl, ringing through Venezuelan forests; in a few hours, a member of searching party glimpses some animal running from what appers a mutilated human arm, another four hours later, Jake is ushered into a shock blanket as he stares, unblinking, at the black and gold snake resting on the glass of the helicopter, seemingly not bothering the pilot. It opens its mouth, showing two rows of serrated but human-looking teeth, sniggers and twists, turning birdlike as it dissolves into goldish mist.