When they finally reached the uppermost floor of the Citadel and emerged onto the roof, the darkness outside had grown so thick as to be stifling. The concentrated power of the scourge was palpable.
Lunafreya’s strange song continued uninterrupted. The casting circle had begun to flicker at erratic intervals. It was plain that the spell was nearing completion. Teraflare was almost upon them.
“Great. We’re here. Now how are we supposed to stop it?” Prompto asked uncertainly.
“No clue,” responded Gladio. “But we gotta try. I’m guessing we can’t just pick her up and walk on outta here.”
The words had barely left his mouth when a whistling sound descended, like blades slicing through air. The avatars. It seemed Bahamut deemed the rooftop far enough away from the Crystal to risk a fight―or close enough to Lunafreya that there wasn’t any other choice.
“Noct, you’ve no time for the riffraff. Leave them to us,” Ignis instructed.
“Right,” Noctis said, and hurled his sword at one of the foes gliding near. In a flash, he’d reached it and was aiming again. The only way he could get to Lunafreya was through warping, but she was too high above the rooftop to be in direct range. So he would have to go from enemy to enemy, using them like stepping stones through sky. As Noctis streaked from one foe to the next, he felt bladed wings brush against his arms and torso. Pain seared through him, but he did not slow. If he stopped, he would fall.
“Luna!” he cried. She was close now. But haste made him careless―an enemy he’d thought firmly within his grip suddenly twisted, and Noctis was tumbling through open air. By the time he realized what had happened, the wind was already roaring in his ears.
He tried to level his aim for another warp-strike but caught only air. He was falling too fast. Bitterness welled up within him. So this was how it ended. What a waste.
As his heart cried out that it was not ready for the end, a new voice boomed in his ears.
“Rise, O Chosen. The pact with the Oracle shall be honored.”
A funnel of flame twisted about Noctis, breaking his fall.
“The Infernian?” Noctis wondered aloud. “Ifrit offers me aid?”
Before he could wonder why, a vision played in his mind. It was like the other times he’d received a divine blessing: he saw Lunafreya’s labors as she forged the covenant. This time she stood face-to-face with the God of Fire. Her skin was the same inky black Noctis had seen in the throne room. Although she had already turned physically, at the time of the vision, she still seemed to retain consciousness. Noctis heard her plea, Let the king have your blessing!
It is I, Lunafreya, blood of the Oracle. In exchange for your release from the bonds of the scourge, lend your power to the Crystal’s Chosen King.
She shouted it at the top of her lungs, her legs quaking beneath her. She was barely managing to stand. Every bit of strength in her body and soul was gathered tightly and expended for sake of the king, as she had always done. And now once again, as Noctis plummeted through open sky, it was Lunafreya’s action that brought him aid.
This time, he would not lose her. He swore in his heart that he would see her safe.
“The revelation of Ifrit is at hand,” the Infernian proclaimed, and Noctis felt himself rising high into the air, buoyed by the god’s roaring flames. He was headed straight toward Lunafreya.
Noctis glanced down, seeing not only the Infernian below, but also Shiva, the Glacian.
“The gods have heard the Oracle’s prayer. Let the Promised King receive aid divine,” she announced.
And then the other gods of the trials appeared: Titan, the Archaean; Ramuh, the Fulgurian; and Leviathan, the Hydraean. The five gods that existed alongside the Star, gathered under darkened sky.
“Luna! I’m almost there!” Noctis called.
Another moment and he’d be at her side. Just a little farther . . .
The Darkness waxes full.
The Draconian’s booming voice shook both heaven and earth. The intricate casting circles around Lunafreya expanded outward to touch the twelve summoned blades. From each of the blades came a blinding flare: each was as the sun at midday, a ball of burning light and heat.
Go forth, O Blades. Wreak destruction upon the foolish insolence below.
He was too late. Noctis looked on in horror as twelve orbs of fierce incandescence descended upon the land. The orbs grew brighter yet, until Noctis could keep his eyes open no longer.
“The time is come. Defend the Star!”
The Glacian’s cry shook the surroundings. Noctis heard the rumble of earth, the crackle of lightning, the roar of waves, and the blaze of hellfire. Even with his eyes closed, bright white light filled his vision. He had no hope of seeing what was going on. He could only hear and feel the clash and collision of massive entities locked in battle.
Five gods fought against the catastrophe unleashed by the sixth. Though Noctis had been told it would be so, still he was frozen in shock. He hadn’t arrived in time. Grief overcame him. He felt strength leave his limbs and his body fall limp.
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