Where the Sea Kisses Earth - ertrunkener_Wassergeist (2024)

Chapter 1: Part I

Chapter Text

Cor had lived long enough to know the feeling of being backed into a corner, of fighting on your last leg, quite intimately. This was worse than that.

Being practically unarmed and without magic was something he hadn't been, since he had been thirteen years old when Mors had sworn him into service. What had led him here, he could have gladly done without, but he hadn't had a choice, had he?

He only needed to close his eyes for but a second to see it again. The sky, glowing red from the light of the engines of the Niflheimr drop-ships, their hum that vibrated through the air until his teeth clattered, the deep seated horror and disbelief as the Wall caved like broken glass-

Another wave lurched to boat he was on and made his stomach drop down to his knees. The storm howled over the sea and drowned out every other sound but the roaring of his own blood in his ears. It was cold. Colder than it should be. Rain fell down in sheets and each drop felt like a knife wound with the force the storm battered them against the feeble coat he wore. He gritted his teeth and hunched his shoulders even more in a useless attempt to protect himself against the elements.

Cor had given up on steering the little boat he had stolen from some poor, unsuspecting fisherman. He had never been great at handling a boat and now it was all he could do to keep it from overturning. It should have been early afternoon by now, but it was too dark to see much of anything. The roiling clouds swallowed every ounce of sunlight there should have been.

He tried to check on the only other occupant of the boat, but with the rain running into his eyes and the darkness of the storm, it was an exercise in futility. Gripping the rudder with a white knuckled grip, he stretched out one hand until it came into contact with a shivering pile of blankets. He sighed in relief.

They needed to get out of this storm. And fast. Noctis was already sick, and if the storm didn't let up, it would only get worse. Cor couldn't let that happen.

Lightning flashed and the Marshall squinted against the sudden brightness. Had there been another ship on the horizon? He strained his eyes against the rain but couldn't see anything but darkness and water. A curse tumbled from his lips and he threw his wight against the rudder as another wave took them. Wood groaned in protest.

Why hadn't Regis listened to him? They had known Niflheim was up to something. They all had known but still Regis hadn't listened and now-

Another flash of lightning illuminated the roaring darkness. For the fraction of a second Cor could see a rock needle reaching into the sky on his left. More curses were ripped from his lips by the stormy winds.

They were here?

The Galahdian Sea?

Cor knew the myths about Galahd. Everybody did. About a group of islands west of the Lucian continent that had been swallowed by an impenetrable storm. And after days and days, when the storm had finally abated, the islands had vanished with it. Gone without a trace. Only a lonely rock needle marked the spot where they had once been. To this day only very few people dared to come within viewing distance of it. Many a boat had vanished in these waters without a trace.

And here he was, Cor Leonis, failed Marshall and failed protector, a broken sword, close enough to see the silhouette in it's entirety every time lightning flashed.

He had always felt a certain fascination with the old myths since he was a teenager. And now it was this fascination and the mind numbing claws of desperation that made him try to steer towards the rock needle. The entryway to a sunken land, if the tales were true.

Every single one of Cor's limbs trembled in exertion, fatigue and hunger. He was at the end of his rope. Which was why, when the next wave came, his grip on the slick wood slipped. His elbow collided painfully with the wooden edge and his stomach lurched as he felt himself sail through the air.

A startled breath was all he managed before water engulfed him. The freezing cold startled his tired brain into action. Salt burned in his eyes as he forced them open to help him guess where the surface was. Everything was dark. Then another thought flashed through his exhausted mind like a whirlwind.

Noctis!

Cor had no idea where he was, where up was, where the boat was or the boy he loved as if he were his own. But still he started to swim. He could not let Noctis die. It did not matter if he himself survived, but Noctis had to live by whatever means necessary.

It was cold and dark and silent. So, so silent. Everything around him seemed to hold its breath as he struggled to keep the last promise he had made towards his King, his friend, his brother.

“Protect my son. Protect him, whatever it takes.”

He had done so as he had to flee a burning city, a crying child in his arms. He had done so as the Emperor had declared a price for their heads. He had done so until their pursuers had forced him to steal a boat, stash his prince, sick with fever, within and pray to Leviathan that they would manage to escape and be safe.

They weren't safe.

Instead a storm had found them and thrown them into the Galahdian Sea.

Cor felt his throat constrict with the need to breath as he swam further and further. His lungs screamed for oxygen and his movements became weaker by the second. Pinpricks of light flashed in front of his eyes and for the first time since falling into the ocean, he heard something.

A song.

Voiceless and ancient and deep.

It beckoned him to stop, to give into the urge to open his mouth and breath in. It lulled his muddled mind to sleep with promises of rest and reprieve, of an end to his worries.

Cor bit into his cheek hard enough to taste blood. He would not fail his duty! Not again! And if the Six themselves wanted to prevent him from doing so.

There was a sound, the feeling of water flowing along his skin and suddenly he felt a small body beneath his hands. His relief was short lived. He had no idea which way was up and he had no air left in his lungs. And neither had Noctis. Still, with the strength of desperation he struggled onwards.

Water pushed against him from all sides, seemed to grow thick as syrup. Was he even moving anymore? His limbs grew heavy, his grip lax. In the farthest corner of his mind Cor was aware that he was dying. That he had failed in the last task given to him. His eyes fluttered shut and with the last flickers of awareness he hated.

With a gasping cough Cor startled upright. Coarse sand scraped against the palms of his hands as he attempted to grip something. A weapon, anything. The next thing he realized was that he was breathing at all. Rattling, wet breaths that tasted like saltwater and sand and hurt his lungs and throat, but he was breathing.

He forced his eyes to remain open against the blinding brightness of the sun. Its light painted bright spots through the branches of ancient trees that swayed gently in a cool breeze. The sky was a midsummer blue with no clouds in sight.

Next to him a pitiful whine sounded.

“Noctis!” he rasped.

Another coughing fit followed. To his right on the beach, curled tightly into a ball, was the young prince of Lucis. The boy was still asleep and shivering, his skin pale from fever, but he was alive. The sheer relief from that made Cor sink back onto the sand, boneless. One of his large, calloused hands found his prince's chest and lay there, feeling it rise and fall with each breath.

They were alive.

Somehow, through a miracle of Leviathan and Ramuh combined, they were alive.

Scrambling upright again, Cor tried to figure out what had happened. All his muddled mind could come up with was the touch of smooth scales, the feeling of a gentle hold and a pair of glowing blue eyes in the silent darkness that sang an ancient, incomprehensible song.

Chapter 2: Part II

Chapter Text

The first time Cor had heard of the mythical islands that made up Galahd, he had been four years old. His mother had abandoned him to the elder widow in their little village community, who looked after the younger children while the parents were at work – not that his mother had worked. Instead she had most likely gallivanted off to the only inn to get drunk.

At four, Cor did not know this, only that his mother had left him with the old lady with the sad eyes again, like every other adult seemed to do. So it wasn't unusual. What was unusual was that they weren't allowed to go outside. It was early autumn and the rain was falling in glimmering ropes, turning the unpaved streets into a muddy marsh.

Cor, who would rather run outside with his trusty sword – it was NOT a stick! - and beat up imaginary daemons, even in this weather, was not happy. At all. So he sat there, pouting, by the bookshelves while the other children ran around the living room. They were playing an impromptu game of the floor is lava, Cor would have totally won, if he hadn't remembered he was sulking because he couldn't go outside.

His gaze wandered along the many books on the shelves. These were the largest amount of books he had ever seen, and he wondered, if maybe the woman watching them was secretly a witch. One of those that sold knowledge and potions, like he had heard some grown-ups talk about once.

One book in particular caught his eye. It was a thin volume with a brilliant blue spine, that contrasted sharply with the surrounding books.

“Do you want me to read you a story?” the old woman and probably-witch asked when she noticed what he was looking at.

Cor scowled at her, though it looked more like a pout. His temporary caretaker just smiled, used to the antics of the wild child sitting in front of her bookshelves. He squinted up at her. Her smile carved even deeper wrinkles into her weathered skin. She was definitely a witch, Cor decided with all the certainty of a four year old boy, and gave a decisive nod.

Refusing the knowledge a witch offered you freely was a dumb thing to do. That, too, he had learned from the grown-ups. It gave you nothing but curses. Even if he wasn't quite sure what a curse was.

Without further ado, the old woman sat down on the floor next to him. Her old joints creaked audibly and her mouth thinned into t tight line as she did.

“Which one would you like to hear? Would you like me to tell you about Somnus Lucis Caelum? Or about the discoveries the Wanderer made on his travels?” She eyed the wooden sword he never was without. “How about the Warrior or the Conqueror? No? How about the Bloody? It's said he used to bath not only in the blood of his foes but also in that of the daemons he slew.”

At the last one Cor ceased to shake his head. That King he hadn't heard of until now. Everybody knew of Somnus and how he had founded Lucis and his mother had told him about the Wanderer and the Warrior and the Conqueror when she wasn't crying or screaming or throwing things around.

Again the brilliant blue spine of the thin book caught his eye. He pointed at it and the old woman raised an eyebrow.

“You want to know about Galahd?”

Cor had no idea what Galahd was, but blue was his favourite colour and he wanted to know. He nodded. The old woman smiled and reached for the book. Its cover showed an island besieged by an old man wielding lightning and a snake like creature with blue scales in the water.

The whole thing turned out to be a picture book. At first Cor found that mildly disappointing, but as it turned out, those pictures were interesting.

“In ancient times there existed an island nation known as Galahd. It was located in the far west between the shores of Lucis and Tenebrae. The islands were so beautiful that even the Astrals came to see their beauty and they were so impressed by the devotion and goodness of the people, they blessed them with never ending wealth and long lives.”

Cor looked at the picture of what were most likely the Six – he instantly liked the one who had wings made out of swords – surrounding a group of islands, and wondered what 'devotion' meant. Though he didn't ask, because asking about things tended to push his mother to have another of her fits.

“With the Astrals blessing, Galahd became a nation that rivalled the fallen Solheim. They traded with all who came to their shores, were friendly and helpful and gave riches freely to those who didn't have any. But then-” The caretaker turned the page and the next picture showed a black cloud creeping into a majestic port city- “the Starscourge came and things changed. The people of Galahd grew weary of outsiders, turning ships away, not caring if the voyagers were in dire need of help or not. They hoarded their wealth, their resources and started to built a large wall to keep everyone out.”

With every page turned the pictures became darker and darker, the Galahdian people started to be depicted with grotesque faces and strange proportions. Cor wasn't sure he liked this story.

“And the worse the situation grew, the more displeased the Six grew. When the Conqueror King came with his fleet of ships and was turned away, the people of Galahd had not only slighted the King of Lucis, but also Bahamut himself, who is the patron of the royal house. As the King of the Gods, he ordered the others carry out his justice. Ramuh, the Fulgarian and Lawkeeper, judged Galahd unworthy of their blessing, and covered the islands in a storm that lasted for seven days and seven nights. When the storm finally abated, Galahd was gone, swallowed by Leviathan, the Hydraean, for their hubris and their greed.

Now all that remains of Galahd is a lonely rock needle, and it is said that those who dare to come too close to it, looking for fame and ancient riches, are never seen again.” The old woman gave a wry smile. “There is an old saying. 'Lightning strikes only the greedy.'”

For years after that, Cor had been afraid of storms. Not because of the rain, or the dark clouds or the booming thunder. It was neither of those.

It was the lightning.

Cor didn't really understand what greedy was, but he knew it was bad. For years, until well into his teenage years, he had been afraid the lightning would take him away, like it had done with a whole nation. Because all he had ever done was want. He wanted a father, he wanted a mother that did not scream and cry and rage, he wanted adventure, he wanted comrades, he wanted people to stop looking at him with fake understanding and condescension.

Now Cor stared up at the stone needle seemingly piercing the sky, his best friend's son clutched close to his chest, and wondered if Ramuh had finally deemed him too greedy for wanting to get back the family and home he had built in Insomnia.

Chapter 3: Part III

Chapter Text

The first few days blurred together in a sleepless haze full of worry for Noctis, the search for shelter, water and food. It was easy to avoid coming too close to the ocean during that time. They may have been stranded on an island, but it was big enough that Cor could barely hear or smell it when he stood amidst the jungle-like fauna.

There was a small creek a few minutes walk away from the ocean, and close to it a strangely deformed tree. It was hollow and large enough for both of them, and the way it curled in on itself gave an extra layer of protection. So at least two of his immediate problems had been fixed – more or less – before the sun had set on their first evening on the island.

Food was a bit more difficult. Some fruit and plants he found, he knew to be edible, some looked like they might be, but that had never said anything, and hunting with only a heavy duty utility knife and a tactical survival knife at his disposal, had been delegated to primitive traps.

Luckily Noctis became aware enough sometimes to eat and drink something, though those phases never lasted long, and Cor wondered, if his charge would remember them at all later. The fever fell and rose and did not want to abate, no matter what he did. It was maddening.

Once, during the night, when Cor should have been sleeping, but had not been able to, he could have sworn to see blueish light shimmer along Noctis' skin, though it was gone within the blink of an eye, and he wondered, if his sleep deprived mind was now seeing things.

On their third day on the island, Cor made sure Noctis was hidden as well as he could be, and decided to properly explore his immediate surroundings. It left a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he needed to know how defensible their position was in case they were being found. He would also take the opportunity to look for better shelter and food sources.

The trees here were larger than any he had ever seen in Lucis as a whole. Their high canopies made the air seem green as the sun shone through the leaves. For some inexplicable reason he felt like he was walking through a cathedral. The whole jungle seemed wild, but the longer he walked the more he couldn't shake the feeling that had been building within him for the last few days.

That everything here seemed so deliberate.

Nothing grew in neat patterns, but everything was spaced far enough apart to have room to breathe and grow, there were trees and bushes with nuts and fruit everywhere. Cor thought he spotted some wild carrots at the edge of a clearing. The fragrance of growing herbs was strong there. A tree grew at the centre of the clearing, gentled the sun with its wide and gnarled branches. Grass brushed along his knees as he walked towards it.

It was obviously ancient. Beneath large spots of rust red moss and lichen, the bark was a golden bronze. It's leaves danced in the warm wind with quiet whispers and painted enchanting pictures of light and shadow. Large roots had risen over the centuries and formed large hollows.

It would be so easy to just lay down at the base of the tree and rest.

Something about this tree was making Cor antsy. It wasn't necessarily the tree's age. No matter how much it made his skin itch to walk in a jungle where the bushes were often taller than Lucian trees. Without really realizing it, he leaned closer to inspect the bark. The texture looked very rough with deep grooves that the moss clung to. Cor had seen a tree like this before. He just could not remember where.

Proof that there had at least once been humans here, came after a half an hour walk after he had left the tree behind. Without warning the jungle suddenly stopped and the ground turned from soft earth, dead leaves and roots, to naked stone.

Cor stood there and stared at the base of the huge stone needle. Here in the open, the sun beat down upon him hot and unforgiving. Sweat made his clothes and hair stick uncomfortably to his skin. But still he moved along the edge of the jungle, keeping to the cooler shadows as much as he could.

It didn't take him long to figure out that the edge between jungle and rock formed a perfect circle. For that he didn't need to walk around the whole thing, but he did so anyway. Or at last, he planned to until he found the stairs.

Once upon a time they had been chiselled into the stone needle with a careful hand. Now time, wind and weather had made them crooked and uneven. It was still visible though, that thousands of feet had gone up and down these stairs for a very long time. They were simple, without any adornments that might have survived until this day, and wound their way up in serpentines until they vanished into the rock.

Was there something within the stone needle? A temple perhaps? Or a stronghold?

It would be worth to check it out as a potential hideout either way. The people who had lived on this island had obviously been gone for a long time, if this was all that had survived of their culture. But something kept bothering Cor about this. On his way back to Noctis, long faded memories drifted at the edge of his consciousness.

A blue book. An old caretaker telling him a story.

Noctis dreamed.

At least, he thought he was dreaming.

The last thing he could remember clearly from before the fog, was the crystal sharp bite of age old magic, how it had bitten deep into his bones. How it had settled into his very being, and then shredded something within him, when he had buckled under the sheer weight of it.

That something had been important. At least, Noctis thought it had been, even when he could not remember what it had been.

He also remembered Cor. His face a blank mask full of soot and red splashes that had scared Noctis. Though not as much as the rattling sound of moving MT and the cracks of gunshots behind them.

Now there was only the fog. It was all around him. Cool and wet and soothing, it danced on a wind Noctis couldn't feel, and formed wispy figures that vanished just as quickly as they had come into being. The boy did not like it. No matter how often it ruffled his hair or brushed his heated cheeks with cool fingers.

There was only one thing he wanted. One person. He wanted...

For the blink of an eye the world became nothing but static.

Yes, whom did he want?

Every time he tried to remember, his head seemed to split apart with a white hot flash of pain.

Wet grass tickled his bare toes as they involuntarily flexed. He could not feel earth, only grass. Something about that made him shiver.

What had he been thinking about again?

A sudden movement to Noctis' right made trails of fog dance close to where the ground should be. Had there been something? The boy wasn't sure. It was hard to see anything – there were only different gradients of white. Not even the grass he stood upon was visible.

There it was again.

Closer now.

Air brushed a shroud of fog against his skin. He shivered again.

Had there been something solid? White and small and furry? Or had it been a greyish shadow Noctis forgot the moment he had seen it?

It didn't really matter to Noctis. Something solid meant company. Company meant warmth. Something other than cold and wet fog with its eternal whiteness, and the feel of grass beneath his feet where there was none.

Noctis turned, and for the first time since coming to this dream, started to walk. Deeper into the fog he went, following the hints of movements that were always just barely visible from the corners of his eyes.

With each step the young boy took, he left behind a trail of footprints. Liquid gathered within them. It glowed in a crystal blue light pulsing like a faint heartbeat.

Chapter 4: Part IV

Chapter Text

That night Cor could barely sleep. He lay on the naked ground and stared up at the foliage overhead as if it could reveal all which he wanted to know. He saw nothing but darkness, heard nothing but Noctis' laboured but steady breath and the nocturnal wildlife of the jungle.

For hours now his thoughts had circled around what he remembered about the story of Galahd. The mystical island nation that had been pulled beneath the ocean. Drowned by the fury of the Six for their sins, people told, and used it as a cautionary tale against hubris. If this was really how the Six were supposed to act against nations who had grown an inflated ego, then they should have drowned Niflheim over a century ago, Cor mused and closed his eyes in another attempt to fall asleep.

The Citadel shook again. Cor didn't slow his breakneck speed as he hurried through the vacated halls. The servants and most of the government had been evacuated nearly a day ago. Now all that remained were barely enough soldiers to defend the huge structure, and the royal family itself.

Cor growled a curse as he collided with the wall in front of him. Ignoring the dull pulsating of pain in his shoulder, he took a ninety degree turn and continued to run down the corridor, his breath sounding harsh in his ears.

The shaking stopped. It only made him push himself harder.

If only Regis had listened to him. Maybe if Clarus were still alive, he...

There was not much time left. The city was falling. And still the King tried to retain an ever shrinking magic wall to protect as many of his people as possible. Regis must know he was fighting a losing battle. He must know that. Why was he still here?

Another tremor shook the Citadel to it's very foundations. Cor could hear the whole building groan under the burden of the colliding energies. Glass shattered.

He arrived at the next flight of stairs and started climbing, taking two steps at a time. The lifts had quit working when the tremors had first started. A precautionary act, but the stairwells were situated so far apart, it took Cor a long time to climb them up to reach the King. Too long.

Another set of empty hallways and empty rooms. Shards of toppled vases littered the ground. Their flowers scattered across the marble floors and fine black carpets in a tragic beauty.

Finally the last stairwell, and beyond that a wide, open room. Shards of glass glittered in the blueish light the condensed Wall gave off. Without really looking, Cor jumped over the dead bodies of Lucian soldiers and remains of MTs – remainders of Niflheim's last near successful infiltration attempt a few hours ago – to reach the heavy doors behind which the Crystal Room was located. The doors opened with a sputtering hiss.

There Regis was, hair white as snow and deep wrinkles carved into his skin. His King had aged decades over the last few days. The hand bearing the Ring of the Lucii, it's gem twinkling like a star, nearly touched the crystal – but not quite. Near tangible tendrils of light floated through the room.

“Majesty!”

Cor's legs nearly gave out in relief, though it was short lived. It was clear Regis would not last much longer.

“Cor,” the King's voice was weary and hoarse with exhaustion. “Protect my son. Protect him, whatever it takes.”

It was like someone had just slid a dagger into Cor's heart. His breath stuttered and his blood pounded in his ears so loudly, he barely could make out his King's next words.

“I know what I'm asking of you, my friend. You're the only one still alive I would entrust his life to. Please, take him.”

He wanted to say no. Wanted to stay and fight by his King's side, be the sword he was always meant to be, but the words refused to pass his lips. Solemn green eyes met steely blue. It would be their last farewell, both knew, and it would pass in the silent understanding that Cor would do anything to protect the future of Lucis, the one thing most precious in the world to Regis. His son.

A young, tear stained face looked up at him from behind Regis' legs as calloused fingers pressed a burning cold ring into his hand.

With a choked cry and his heart leaping into his throat, Cor jerked awake. He hadn't even realized he had fallen asleep. Most of the jungle had grown quiet and it was still dark.

Wait, that was not quite right.

Instinctively he turned towards the slight shimmer of blue that pulsated like a heartbeat, and made a choked off sound.

Noctis was lying to his left, as far away from the entrance inside the hollow tree that was their shelter, as possible. His breath was still even, if laboured, and the boy was still asleep. What had Cor's heart stutter in his chest in worry and disbelief, was the slight glow that travelled along his charge's skin. Had it not been as dark as it was, Cor doubted he would have noticed it.

“By the Grace of the Six, what...?”

His voice was gravelly with sleep. The silence of the night was his only answer.

Cor hesitated for barely a heartbeat before his hand found Noctis' forehead. His skin was still too warm to the touch, but cooler than it had been before. Had the glow something to do with his heritage?

Without really realizing what he was doing, he fumbled for the ring he wore on a chain around his neck. As always, it was cold to the touch, near uncomfortably so. Power thrummed within this ring. It sang like a siren beneath his skin, urging him to put it on. The ring needed a wearer, otherwise it was unable to serve its purpose. But Noctis was still too young, still only a child of barely eight years. No one else would survive the consequences of doing so. Cor pushed all that potential he could feel trying to urge him on, aside and looked down. The tiny crystal stone pulsed in time with the glow shimmering on Noctis' skin. It had to be crystal related.

Not for the first time the near crippling wish that Regis had survived filled him. His King would have known what to do. But here, now, there was only Cor Leonis, and he had no idea what should be done next.

He spent the rest of the night wide awake, alternating between staring at Noctis, the ring and into the darkness, as if any of those three would able to give him answers. None were forthcoming.

When the first hints of light reached beneath the thick jungle canopy, Cor lightened a fire to warm up the meat broth he had set up yesterday evening. He spent the day by Noctis' side, caring for him, talking in what he hoped was an encouraging and soothing voice. His bedside manners had never been the best.

The next day was spent in a similar manner, even though the glow did not return. As far as Cor could tell, at least.

On the third day he forced himself to leave long enough to check his traps and gather berries he could ground into a paste for Noctis. That night the glow did not return either.

The fourth morning dawned bright and cheerful. Like the last few mornings, Cor set up a fire to heat up some broth in an improvised pot for Noctis, did his best to make him swallow said broth and made sure he was comfortable. Afterwards he ate his own breakfast – the roasted leg of a hare that had been captured by one of his traps – and stood in their little camp, restless energy vibrating beneath his skin and not sure what to do.

The thick foliage barred his view of the huge stone needle, but Cor knew it was there. With each day he could feel the urge to go there again and explore, grow. But could he? Should he?

His gaze fell upon his sleeping charge. Noctis looked so small, lying there, cushioned by his jacked and covered by his coat. The fever seemed to be nearly gone, though his skin was still clammy and pale. He had done everything he could for now. It was the best time he would be able to find, to stake out the stone needle.

So, after some more back and forth where Cor stalked through the camp like a caged animal, he went. The weather was a bit cooler than the last few days, and a few lonely clouds drifted through the sky. It was a good time to go exploring.

His way lead him directly to the strange border between the jungle and the naked stone ground that seemed to form a perfect circle. It couldn't be natural, but it didn't look like human hands had been involved in this either. As far as he could tell, there were no other people upon this island. The only clue he had of intelligent life, were the stone steps he had found during his first foray deeper into the island.

He stood at their base and looked up at where they vanished into what looked suspiciously like a doorway of some kind. A feeling of anticipation mixed with dread crawled up his spine and made him shudder minutely. There was something going on here, and every fibre of his being itched with the need to find out. But there was also something else. Something he couldn't explain. It was like a whisper at the back of his mind, humming a song he was sure he had never heard but knew anyway. And he wanted, no needed to know what it was.

His first step forward happened without conscious thought. Like an invisible string had tugged at his leg, made his foot rise, and set it down on the first stone step. After that it was like a spell was broken.

Beneath his feet he could feel the shallow hollows thousands of people walking up and down these steps for hundreds of years, had left behind. It was a strange feeling. This might very well be the only hint a whole civilization had left behind of its existence, and it made Cor feel like every single person who had ever walked these steps, had left a part of themselves in the stone.

With an amused snort at his own thoughts, Cor climbed the stairs. Despite it being cooler, he still started to sweat after only a few minutes. The air was humid and smelled of dust and ancient stone.

The doorway the stairs lead to, wasn't really a doorway. It lacked a door, for one. In that aspect, it was more like an archway. At first glance the edges of it looked like unworked stone, carved by wind and weather. But the longer Cor stood at the edge between shadow and sunlight and looked, the more he couldn't help but feel that there was something deliberate about the grooves, that looked like they had been carved by rainwater.

To distract himself from patterns his brain said weren't there, but some primal part of him insisted were very much present, he tried to peer into the shadows beyond the archway, though the position of the sun made it impossible to see more then the vague shapes of walls, a ceiling and steps vanishing into darkness.

For one long moment Cor hesitated. The cool breath from within reminded him vaguely of Taelpar Crag. It sent a shiver down his spine. He shook his head, chiding himself for being silly. He needed a better shelter for Noctis and himself. The good weather wouldn't hold forever and solid walls would also help against possible predators.

With a fierce frown on his face, he stepped through the archway. The fingers of his left hand drifted along the surprisingly smooth – it actually felt like something close to silk – wall to help his orientation, while his right settled at the grip of his knife. Who knew what animals might use this as their den. Better be safe than sorry.

A set of stairs wound itself further up in a tight spiral, and the space was wide enough that two people could walk next to each other comfortably. Within seconds it was pitch dark, but still Cor continued to climb the stairs. The only sounds he could hear were his own, echoing along the stone walls.

Cor estimated he had climbed two full spiralling circles, when his foot suddenly hit air where a step should have been. There was a split second of panic as his left hand tried to grip the smooth wall, when his foot landed on even ground. Cor stumbled another step forward before he could catch his footing. Dimly, he noted that his steps didn't cause an echo, so the room or corridor he was in, must be relatively small.

Carefully, he set one foot in front of the other, annoyed at himself; he should have brought a staff or something with him. There were certainly enough branches within the jungle which could be fashioned into one.

It took him approximately seven steps until he was confronted with another problem. A wall. He nearly hit his head, would have, if his toes hadn't found it first. Not bothering to bite back the growled courses rolling over his tongue in the three languages he knew, he trailed his hand along the wall.

For the first time he noticed something other than the near unnatural smoothness of the stone. Gentle bumps and grooves that must form a picture of some kind. Calloused fingers followed a line that wound in on itself in gentle slopes and sudden turns. Cor's mind conjured the image of a knot that had neither a beginning nor an end.

After a few more moments he abandoned that line, reaching further to the right until his hand hit air. Another archway then. Relieved, Cor reoriented himself and stepped though.

That was when he noticed it: a tiny shimmer in the absolute darkness around him.

Had his eyes not been adjusted to the dark, he wouldn't have been able to perceive it, it was so weak. But now it was enough to make him instinctively change his course. No matter how foolish, the eyes were the sense humans relied on the most to discern their surroundings.

His way lead him though another archway, following the weak shimmer until he saw what caused it. Not sunlight, but rather traces of a kind of lichen or moss that... glowed. For a moment Cor stared at the speck of florescent lichen-moss that clung to the corner of a carved line in the wall. That was not what he had expected.

He turned his head and found another speck not too far from the first. He walked up to it and found a corner. The light the lichen-moss gave off was still too weak to see by, so he carefully shuffled around the ninety degree turn and found even more specks clinging to the wall next to him. Cor blinked.

What was this? He didn't quite dare to touch it.

Despite the feeling that started to settle in his gut, he continued on and followed the steadily growing number of tiny specks. They clung to the corners of the corridors Cor walked along, as well as the edges of the carved patterns. He still couldn't quite see them with his own eye, but the lichen-moss retraced them enough that he knew his first impression of knots hadn't been entirely wrong.

He approached yet another corner, but this time a shimmer of light spilled along the floor. Unconsciously hurrying his steps, Cor walked the last few metres and turned only to freeze. A sound, half yelp half a shocked cry echoed through the huge, cavernous room.

Swathes of lichen-moss crawled along large parts of the wall and hung from the high ceiling in delicate formations that dimly reminded him of the long sweeping branches of trees, he had only ever seen in Tenebrae.

The room was cathedral like and abandoned all notions of set corners and human order. Instead it was chaotic, hypnotic almost, with columns winding in on themselves, sometimes branching like the branches on a tree, or vanishing in the floor or walls in large arches. Cor saw all of that, but it wasn't what made his heart leap in his chest and something in his hindbrain go run-duck-hide!

Form frozen, muscles tense as bowstrings, he stared at the gargantuan... thing at the other end of the room. It was absolutely overgrown with the lichen-moss but that did not make Cor want to throw up by looking at it any less. There was a mass of spiralling appendages and joints in places where they had no right to be, in a number that shouldn't exist. There was no torso, but he just couldn't call that one formation there a head either. Even with that one eye that seemed to stare straight at him from within a delicate frame of glowing lichen-moss.

Cor swallowed, regardless of the fact that his mouth was as dry as dust. There was a pressure in the air that reminded him of being underwater, strangely enough, though that thought barely registered. With a shaking hand he reached for the knife at his hip. It wouldn't do anything – because there was no living thing to fight – but it made him feel better instantly.

Only once had he come even close to feeling like he did now. At Taelpar Crag. There had been a power there, watching, judging. The pressure of it had scratched along his skin, and, in his youthful ignorance, he had taken it as a challenge.

Now he was older, more experienced and he had a charge he needed to look after. All of that still didn't stop him from baring his teeth and snarling in the mockery of a challenge until it turned into a strained sneer.

The pressure in the air rose until he could barely breathe. Cor felt like he was drowning. Gasping for a breath that wouldn't come – oh Astrals what was happening this shouldn't happen he needed to breathe why wouldn't it come Crystal's Light HELP – he instinctively reached for the ring hanging on a chain around his neck.

Steely coldness seared his palm, crawled under his skin and burrowed into his bones. The crystal shard embedded in the Ring of the Lucii shone bright enough to burn Cor's eyes. A whisper filled the air, it sounded like hundreds of voices speaking the same words at the same time, though Cor couldn't understand a single syllable.

For a single agonizing moment the air grew tense enough that Cor could feel the edges of his vision darken. Then, like the ring of a bell, something like recognition travelled along the air, and suddenly it was all gone. The tension of possible violence, the feeling of being watched and judged, all of it. The air felt ancient and untouched. Clean and musty at the same time, smelling dry and mossy.

Cor picked himself up from the ground – when had he gone down? - the Ring of the Lucii still clutched tightly in his fist. With a hiss of pain he unclenched his hand. Glowing crystal blue veins of magic spread along his palm and over his wrist, the ring at the centre. Around the edges his skin had become an ashen grey and flaky. With a trembling hand Cor tucked the ring back under his clothes.

What was going on here?

The stillness of the air was his only answer.

Chapter 5: Part V

Chapter Text

The ache of emptiness accompanied each motion of the hand. As if something had filled every single cell up to the brim and now it was gone. The marks were not vanishing. Cor clenched and unclenched his fingers. With each motion dead, grey skin flaked off and danced slowly towards the ground like actual ash.

He sat at the creek close to the hollow tree where Noctis was still sleeping. He could barely remember how he had managed to return back here through the pain pulsing in his hand. It still felt like something had carved a space for itself without regard to his mortal flesh and had left just as quickly, leaving nothing behind but an empty feeling that ached like nothing he had ever felt before.

Was the true power of the Lucis Caelums like this? Had Regis felt this every day since he had first donned the Ring of the Lucii? Cor couldn't fathom it. Whatever had happened in that stone needle, it had left him with two things he was absolutely certain about. One, Noctis would wear this cursed ring over his dead body, and two, they needed to get off this island as fast as possible.

For a moment Cor closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts. Wind rustled through the leaves, birds sang. It was peaceful. Yet every instinct he possessed told him that something was off, that there was something just beyond his perception that was ancient and terrible and wrong, wrong, wrongwrongwrongwrong-

His whole body jerked forwards in an effort to free himself from these thoughts. The ring lay heavy and cold against his chest, again hanging from the necklace around his neck.

Moving the fingers and wrist of his... injured hand made the pain pulse more noticeably, but it seemed like he hadn't lost any of it's dexterity. Small miracles. But he knew he couldn't get any hard manual labour done with it being like this. Cor ground his teeth hard enough the muscles in his jaw jumped and he dug out the ring again.

It glinted in the sunlight, dangling from its chain like it was a simple trinket. He glared at it.

“What are you?” he hissed at it.

Silence.

Cor grunted and dropped the chain to settle around his neck again. He hadn't known what he had expected, if he were honest. Inanimate objects couldn't communicate. But then again, the Ring of the Lucii wasn't just an inanimate object, wasn't it?

He sat down on the soft earth and took a sip of water from the canteen that had somehow survived their journey here with just a few minor dents.

A soft whimper and the rustle of dead leaves made him turn around. The ring grew noticeably colder.

In his sleeping place, Noctis had rolled to the side, curling into himself and shivering. Worried, Cor hurried over and felt the boys forehead. He hissed. The skin had grown ice cold. With hasty movements Cor pulled off his t-shirt and curled around Noctis' small shivering form, making sure they lay in a warm patch of sunlight.

How had this happened? Had whatever happened in the stone needle been the cause of this? Had it been the ring?

The damned thing rested against his skin like an ice cold brand. Cor closed his eyes and did his best to ignore it. His uninjured hand gently carded through matted black hair. For a few heartbeats there was silence, only interrupted by the sound of their breathing.

A sudden stab of pain in his ashen hand made Cor grind his teeth. The feeling of emptiness pulsed – again and again and again – until sweat started to bead along Cor's forehead and he realized that the Ring was pulsing with power, keeping pace with Noctis' heartbeat.

Noctis still couldn't see the grass beneath his feet, or much of anything at all. But now there was also the soft gurgle of water coming from his right. It settled something within him. A new sound meant he was getting somewhere and that was a good thing.

Right?

He hadn't seen any kind of movement in the fog for a while now. Where had the small being gone? Noctis was scared to make a sound, to call out for his mysterious guide. He just knew there were things lurking in the fog, whose attention he didn't want to attract under any circ*mstances. It was nothing more than an instinctual feeling, a conclusion of which he couldn't grasp the reasoning. But he was a child, and unlike most adults he didn't question the feeling.

Instead he kept quiet and kept moving.

The earth and grass were soft and damp from dew, but still his feet started to hurt. Noctis wanted to stop, just wanted to take a short rest and sit down. But each time he was about to do it, the fine hairs on his neck started to stand on end and his skin prickled uncomfortably.

To distract himself, he started to guess shapes in the shifting gradients of whiteness around him. There had been different trees, a spiral, a cat, fishes, a hand, an assortment of swords and a shield. The hulking patch of dark grey to his left looked like a really wonky squid.

Noctis blinked.

…Dark grey?

He froze. A tendril of fog danced across his cheek, making him shiver, but Noctis didn't care. Instead, he stared at the grey squid thing. That wasn't just a shape produced by the fog.

Every second he looked at it, he felt bile rise higher in his throat. There was something disturbing about how the thing moved. Noctis couldn't see more than a vague outline, but that was enough. Everything within him screamed to hide, but his whole body was frozen in place.

Had the thing noticed him? Was it coming closer?

Noctis wasn't sure. Couldn't be sure. Grass tickled at his ankles.

The thing moved in a way that suggested joints where there shouldn't be any, like the whole body was made up of nothing but tentacles and joints. And it was looking at him. It had noticed him and was looking at him and it was looking and he was drowning

and

there was salt on his tongue and the sea roaring in his ears and pressure behind his eyes

and

it was looking and he was drowning and he couldn't breathe

and there was a voice singing and grinding and gurgling and it was ancient and

pressure

and he was drowning and it was

l o o k i n g

l o o k i n g

l o o k i n g

There was a thundering crack that sounded like a million shards of crystal breaking and tingling, followed by a pulse of power that glinted like the cold edge of a blade and was heart achingly familiar.

Noctis gasped.

Air filled his lungs, tasting of cool currents and fog and the sharp bite of magic. Noctis took another deep breath, greedy for the feeling of relief it gave him. For the longest time he just stared up at the ever transforming whiteness of the fog above him, and breathed.

The Thing was gone.

A gentle warmth wrapped around him like a hug. It felt protective and familiar and... Why couldn't he remember?

Noctis breathed.

When his mind felt less like the entirety of the deep oceans was pressing down on it, he started to wonder when he had laid down. There was grass and earth beneath his fingers, damp and solid and wonderful. It tickled at his bare arms. A sob bubbled up his throat and tears prickled in his eyes. The warmth around him didn't leave. It was a comforting feeling and Noctis clung to it with all his might, wishing for... for something.

Suddenly Noctis wanted nothing more than to sleep. Sleep and never wake up again.

Movement to his right instinctively made him turn his head and look. He could see the grass now. Right in front of his eyes. It was all thin stalks and greenery. It was the first bit of colour he had seen in who knew how long. Before he could further contemplate this new discovery however, he saw the same movement again.

The cause of it was a small in shape, and white. The only reason Noctis could see it, was by the movement of the fog around it, and the very faint glow it gave off. Each movement the shape made, sounded like uncountable tiny crystals clinking together to create gentle tingling sounds.

Noctis didn't move. He just watched as the being – whatever it was – paced from one side to the other just barely within sight of him. It looked... protective. That was the word drifting into the boy's mind. Whatever it was, it was protecting him. But why didn't it come closer then? If it was friendly?

The question was enough to get him to sit up to get a better look at the small being. Noctis squinted. The being had four legs, large ears and a fluffy tail. Noctis wanted to pet it. Was it as soft as it looked?

He stood up. Every muscle in his body hurt. But still he stood and took a step forward. Then another and another. The small being kept its distance, guiding him further towards the sound of gently gurgling water. It took only a few steps for the grass beneath his feet to be replaced by smooth river stones. The sudden change from one step to the other startled Noctis badly enough he froze again. The prickling feeling at the back of his neck and the increasingly frantic pacing of the creature in front of him, made him move forward.

Only to stop again when he felt water brush over his toes. A few paces to his left, the little creature – his companion? Guide? - had stopped as well, clearly waiting for something. Noctis shifted nervously. What if the Thing came back? What if it managed to drown him for real? What if-

A speck of warm golden light appeared in the whiteness of the fog, accompanied by a dark shape slowly drifting towards them. Noctis strained to see what it was, but still, it took him an agonizingly long time to realise that what he was looking at was indeed a small boat. Its wood was pitch black and the nose was formed like a grinning skull. Two lanterns hung from ornamented poles situated at the bow and stern.

It looked scary. Real scary. But it couldn't be half as scary as the Thing drifting in the fog somewhere behind him. So once the boat ground to a stop on the stones, Noctis climbed in.

The wood was warm beneath his touch, as if the boat was a living thing. There was no one else in it but him. The young boy huddled against the starboard side and waited for something to happen. A heartbeat later the little creature jumped onto the railing.

The creature was cute, Noctis decided, now that he could see it more clearly. It had pure white fur that had a slight blueish glow to it, and a small horn at the centre of its forehead. It stretched and made a chirping noise that sounded strangely like a greeting.

Then the boat started to move. It didn't sway, didn't groan or creak like wood was supposed to. It was utterly silent other then the sound of gentle waves lapping against the hull and the scrape of wood against stone, as it first drifted backwards and then started to turn around.

Noctis didn't look up. There was nothing to see anyway.

The small creature jumped down from the railing and padded towards him. Its fur looked really soft, despite it sounding like tingling crystal every time it moved.

“Hello. Who're you?” Noctis whispered.

It was barely audible, as if he was afraid the Thing might here him and find him again at any moment. The creature chirped in greeting. It rubbed against his leg like a cat and Noctis took it as an invitation to pet it. The fur was just as soft as it looked. Despite the situation, it made a small grin tug at the corners of his mouth.

“My name is Noctis.”

I know, the answering chirp seemed to say.

“Do you know where we are? What is happening? I want to go home, but I'm lost.”

The thought of home drove a painful stab through his heart. He thought of warmth and protection and gentle hands and eyes that looked at him full of love, but he couldn't remember where it was. Where was his home? How was he going to find it again, if he couldn't remember that? Noctis only realised he had started to cry when a tiny tongue licked the tears from his face. He hugged the small, warm body close and buried his face in fluffy white fur.

A series of comforting chirps drifted through the fog. The wood against his back felt a bit warmer than before. All Noctis could do was breathe and pray to anyone who might be listening, that they would help him find his way back home.

Chapter 7: Part VI

Chapter Text

Cor had no idea for how long he lay there until Noctis ceased shivering. He could only release a quiet sigh but kept the little boy close in case the shivering started up again.

Exhaustion threatened to pull him to sleep. He was so tired, his eyes felt like they were filled with sand. The ring and his damaged hand still pulsed in time with Noctis' heartbeat, but thankfully the intensity had died down until he could barely feel it anymore. The ashy scars had mostly stopped flaking as well. Still, Cor did not dare to relax and fought as best as he could against the leaden weight of sleep.

It was a losing battle.

~ ~ - _ . _ - ~ ~

Glittering crystal was all around. It was the walls, it was the ceiling, it was the floor beneath his feet. Cor stared at the beautiful hues of blue and the occasional purple, utterly transfixed. The light within the crystal looked like it was pulsing gently and slow enough it was nearly imperceptible. Warmth seeped up from beneath the soles of his shoes.

For what felt like an eternity, Cor could do nothing more than breathe as he watched, transfixed by the beauty of it. A gentle breeze caressed his face, smelling of secrets and ocean. It was startling enough for him he took a step backwards. And nearly stumbled against the crystalline wall as his feet were met with resistance, followed by a series of glass-like cracking sounds. He looked down.

There were tiny crystals growing from the ground and over his shoes. There were tiny crystals growing over his shoes.

Hastily he shook them off, not listening to the light chiming noises they made as they fell down. His breath quickened. It felt like there were crystals in his throat that cut the air with every breath. That had to be his imagination, right?

Dear Astrals, what was going on?

Calm. He needed to calm down. Which was easier said then done.

The longer Cor stood in one place, the more the tiny crystals tried to grow over his shoes and up his legs. They were trying to trap him. To consume him until he himself was nothing more than a statue of iridescent shades of blue and purple. He could not let that happen. Not with the oath he made to his best friend – his King.

A shudder went through the surrounding crystal as if it had heard his thoughts. It sounded like a thousand bursting windows and Cor could do nothing more than crouch down and cover his ears in the face of the deafening noise. It sounded like the whole crystal cave was about to collapse around him.

When it stopped, it took him a moment to dare to open his eyes. The crystal looked different. It was still shades of iridescent blue and purple, still was everywhere surrounding him, but the edges looked softer, the light seemed just the tiniest bit warmer. The crystal had stopped trying to consume him. Instead it seemed... not accepting exactly, but tolerant of his presence. For now.

And right in front of his feet, there was the beginning of a stairwell leading down far enough that he could not see its end. A slight breeze blew up the crystal stairs and carded through his short hair.

Cor did not know what made him take the first step down. Recklessness? A desire for answers? The absolute certainty that the embrace of the crystal would eventually consume his very soul, no matter what? The tantalising scent of the deep sea and the promise of knowledge? Maybe it was all of this put together and more. Fact was, he started to walk down the stairwell with no visible end.

It didn't take too long until the crystal of the steps turned into stone and Cor felt like he had left something behind. A presence in the air, an embrace he hadn't known to be in until he had left it. It made him shiver. The air hadn't grown colder, but it certainly felt like it.

The stone looked to be white marble, also covering the walls and ceiling. He could not say when the change had happened. Had there been a hard cut? Had the stone slowly grown out of the receding crystal? To his shame Cor had to admit that he had only noticed the change when the light around him had changed from the slow pulse to a steady glow. It seemed to be more... earthen. More real and tangible. It felt like sunlight on a cool summer day.

It was soothing.

There were grey shadows within the smooth marble. They formed landscapes: forests, glades, mountains, lakes. Then a village, a town, a city. People. And the longer Cor watched, the more it seemed like those scenes were coming alive. Grey people going about their days in grey streets. Grey trees gently swaying in an unfelt breeze.

So captivated was he, that when the coral burst in like a tsunami, swallowing the city and the people, it was a shock great enough he stopped walking. He stared blankly at the grey people who looked to be running away from the coming coral wave. For how long had he been walking down the stairs now? Cor blinked, unsure.

Those scenes had nearly sucked him in. Hadn't he heard the people talk at the edge of his hearing? The noise of carts being rattling over cobbled stone and the chocobos who pulled them? Hadn't colour started to creep into the scenes?

He shuddered.

What was he even doing here? Was he dreaming? What kind of nightmare was this?

A breeze drifted across his skin and made his gaze drift over the steps leading down. It smelled strongly of salt now, like he was standing directly at the ocean's shore. The steps beneath his feet were now coral as well, but still grey. Dead. With each step Cor took, a slight crunching sound reached his ears, the echo strangely dim.

It grew dark. Gone was the cool and pulsing light emitting from the crystal and warm and steady glow from the stone. The coral was grey and dead and had no light of its own to offer. So Cor was forced to continue his way down in the dark. But it was not quite truly dark, wasn't it?

His scarred hand, from which skin had flaked off like ash. Below the dead skin still clinging on, glowing strands of crystal were now peeking through, emitting a slight glow. It was not enough to illuminate his surroundings, but enough to be noticeable now that all other sources of light were gone.

Cor stopped in his tracks and stared, heart lurching in his chest. What by Pitioss?

A rumble went through the stairwell, strong enough to nearly throw Cor off his feet. His shoulder painfully collided with the rough wall. The sound of crushed coral hurt his hears and reverberated in his teeth. He grunted, doing his best to breathe. Pressure rose in the air, it felt like the weight of the ceiling was pressing down on his shoulders, steady and without mercy. Still Cor grit his teeth, snarling, and refused to bend. As suddenly as the pressure had come, it receded. The shaking ceased.

For a long moment Cor just stood there, doing is best to get his bearings. Had he angered something? Whatever this had just been, it had echoed bitterness and anger like a tidal wave.

Oh, this was so out of his league. He needed to get out of here, back to Noctis. And for that he needed to go down, he could feel it in his bones. He could panic later about the Crystal probably having eaten a part of him. Forcefully he shoved all thoughts pertaining to this in a box and shoved it into the back of his mind.

His next few steps were shaky things, nearly making him stumble, but soon enough he got his legs back in proper working order through sheer force of will and determination. The soft light emitting from the crystalline scars on his hand and wrist, was barely enough to show him where the closest wall was.

Its corral looked less misshapen than it had at the start, and Cor thought he might see a glimpse of colour here or there, but he did not dare to stop to examine it more closely. The light he had wasn't enough for that. At least that was what he told himself.

There was a soundless... hum in the air, ebbing and flowing like the tides of the ocean. It was just at the edge of his hearing. Cor could not help but feel drawn to it, like its very sound had burrowed into his muscles and bones and was dragging him forward.

He had no idea for how long he walked through the near darkness, chasing a sound he could barely hear, until he saw the first lichen. Just a few glowing specks, no bigger than fireflies clinging to the edge of a bright orange coral, but enough to pull him to a stop. He knew he had seen this kind of lichen before. The knowledge was niggling at the back of his mind, but he could not quite grasp it over the humming sound rattling in his skull.

It was louder now. More tangible. But not by much. Just enough to tell him that he was getting closer. To whatever he was getting closer to. The end definitely. But what else?

Cor started walking again.

Down and down.

The specks of lichen slowly grew more numerous, just like... like what?

No matter.

On he walked.

The coral was growing in beautifully colourful formations all around him now, illuminated by pockets of lichen that were steadily getting larger. Each breath Cor took felt like he was breathing ocean. The taste of salt and life spread along his tongue, chasing him forward. It was intoxicating. He wanted to taste more of it. Wanted to press himself against its origin and never leave.

The humming sound in his skull was lowly turning into voices. So many voices. He could not hear his own thoughts anymore.

The steps beneath his feet slowly vanished underneath a thick bed of lichen, just like the corals which formed the walls and ceiling, until everything around him was a soft bed of greenish light. Thin stalks started to grow from it, their tips glowing like tiny white stars. They swayed in the periodical bursts of wind.

It felt like breathing.

That ebbing and flowing hum that had turned into voices was now transforming into incomprehensible words. It was a song with so many layers and so many voices and registers which shouldn't be possible, that his vision started to swim.

Were the walls pulsing?

He stumbled forward.

When was the end coming? For how long had he been going down this infernal stairwell? Should he go back up? Could he?

The questions were washed away by a new wave of air rushing around him like the currents of the ocean. He nearly choked on it.

Cor did not even question when he had come to brace against the wall with one hand. It was pulsing beneath his fingers. Thin stalks were brushing against his legs and sides, making his skin prickle even through his clothes.

Everything felt like it was pressing down on him, the pressure enough he could barely put one foot in front of the other. Sweat was dripping down his face and onto the ground where it was greedily consumed by the lichen and stalks. Was it even lichen anymore?

He blinked and tried to see the end of the stairwell – no, it was a tunnel now – while his vision was steadily growing more and more blurry. So close. He felt like he was nearly there. Something was waiting just beneath the dark gaping like a maw in front of him.

The pressure around him made his knees buckle, but still he fought onwards. He would reach the end. He would...

Something grabbed his shoulder, pressing him down into the soft bed of greenish light, only to abruptly pull him up.

And up.

And up.

And

Up

~ ~ - _ . _ - ~ ~

Cor's whole body lurched as he came awake with a greedy breath. His mind was fuzzy, like he had been holding his breath for far too long. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision.

What had happened?

What...?

Bleary grey eyes met luminescent blue. Eyes too blue, too big, too much for the face they were in. Cor reacted on instinct. Suddenly he had a dagger in his scarred hand and plunged it into the nearest body part he could reach, of the being – thing.

There was a grunt of pain and they – it? – stumbled backwards, giving Cor enough space to sit up. Everything was spinning around him, but he stubbornly clung to consciousness. His chest heaved with each breath. Blinking rapidly, he forced himself to move to cover Noctis from view, crouching protectively in front of him, another dagger in his hand.

His vision came to a sharp focus and he saw a... person slowly pulling a dagger made entirely of crystal out of their shoulder. They were bleeding red. Which was less reassuring than it was supposed to be, because the red was somehow off. It dripped down bronze skin, simultaneously too thick and too thin. Too long fingers gripped the hilt of the dagger. It was pulled out entirely with a wet sound.

The person held it in his hand, looking at it was luminescent eyes that had no whites. The blood in the wound started to bubble. Cor felt a sudden surge of nausea at the sight, but he refused to let this person out of his sight. He watched, as within seconds the bubbling blood formed fresh skin, until there were no traces of the wound left. Nothing but the blood and a silvery shimmer to the new patch of skin.

Cor gripped the dagger in has hand tighter in grim determination, refusing to wonder where he had gotten it from. If this being – person, whatever – proved to be hostile, he would fight with all he had.

“Well, I deserved that one,” the person said, almost flippant about the whole situation. “That thing with the daggers is a neat trick. Didn't know the Heart allowed something like that. How long did you practice for it?”

Cor stared blankly at the grinning, not entirely human – but not daemon – face.

“What?”

Chapter 8: Part VII

Chapter Text

None of this had happened on purpose. This was one thing Nyx Ulric would insist on no matter how many years would pass. Only the Unspeakable Deep knew how much of the happenings had been influenced by its currents and how much had been someone else throwing a stone in the waters.

Maybe, many years into the future and in the depths of his mind, Nyx considered it the Heart's machinations. That it had dropped the divergence to his expected current in front of him like a stone, or maybe the two humans had been coming in like the tide, drifting on the beat of the Heart, ebbing and flowing as it was.

It could have been one or the other. Or maybe it had been a little bit of the two of them. Maybe the Deep and the Heart had worked together from the very start. They must have known what the future might have been, if they hadn't made the meeting between Nyx Ulric and Cor Leonis an inevitability.

~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~

The storm on the surface had been going for a while already – no surprise there, since it was the middle of the storm season – but it was much stronger than it should have been. Even as deep down in the waters as Nyx was, he was able to feel the turbulent waters dragging at his fins and hair stalks.

The way the the Temple of the Likeness was one he took with apprehension. Not because the waters were dark or troubled, no. But because the Deep was quiet. Waiting. Never had the song in his mind, swelling and ebbing, roiling and flowing, ever been this... calm and quiet.

Nyx came to a sudden stop, surprised at the boat bobbing ahead and above him like a single leaf lost at sea. Outsiders were stupid and greedy and thought they were entitled to the riches of Nyx's people, but this outsider must be a special kind of stupid, if he was out here during a storm such as this one. He scoffed and was prepared to be on his way, ignoring the stupidly reckless outsider in their dingy little boat – they would never make it towards the Temple anyway, the Unspeakable Deep would make sure of it.

Something fell into the turbulent waters of the surface and rapidly drifted down. No, not something. Someone. A small someone. A truly tiny human – a child. Motionless they drifted though the waters. Shock made Nyx's fins flare at the realisation. Had there been a child all alone on the boat? Had they been trying to get away from something and hadn't been able to read the sky?

Without even really noticing what he was doing, Nyx shot forward. Children were untainted waters, the happenings of the past weren't their fault, so he could not let this one drown. The Deep in his mind shifted, the tone of its song shifted as it seemed to connect with something he couldn't quite grasp.

Nyx wrapped the child in his arms, careful of his sharp nails and fins. His magic followed his physical motions, making sure water and pressure would not harm them. It took him an embarrassingly long moment to notice that someone else had also dropped into the ocean. A grown up. This one definitely conscious, twisting desperately in the waters. Looking for the child maybe?

The Deep sang in his bones, a song he had never heard before, but Nyx hardly noticed. Not until it rattled in his bones until his teeth clattered and the water around him seemed to vibrate as he sped through it. He had no idea what was happening. Something in his mind shied away from trying to understand.

Still he caught the adult, whose flailing was growing weaker and weaker. The two of them belonged together. The child and the adult. Nyx didn't know how he knew – maybe it was just pure logic, they had been in the same boat after all – but there was something. A realisation waiting to happen.

But first he needed to reach the shore.

The Change was always painful. But going from a tail and fins and scales to legs and skin and breathing air while the Deep's song rattled through him like an earthquake, made it even more so. It took all he had to drag the unconscious humans far enough up the beach that the now receding storm would not take them. Then exhaustion took him.

~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~

Cradled in a warmth soft and hard, too much and too little, with a darkness that made his brain scream in terror and was a familiar comfort at the same time, he slept. He dreamt of the song living in his bones, the beat of an ancient heart coming from the centre of the planet, and the turbulent rumblings of the deep.

~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~

When he woke up again, Nyx didn't know how much time had passed. Air filled his lungs instead of water, the gills along his ribs had retreated. The heavy smell of ahtkar filled his nose with each slow breath, giving him a good idea of where he was. The Temple of the Likeness. A safe place. A place where he did not have to wrangle his senses under control in a split second. Instead he could just... drift in the presence of the Deep.

It did not matter that he didn't know how he had ended up here. Important was only that he had. Nyx pressed his face further into the ahtkar, wisps of it clung to his cheek and jaw. He was so warm. Maybe he could sleep for a bit longer?

He was about to do just that, when another scent registered. It was subtle at first, under the heavy scent of the ahtkar, but once his mind registered it, he couldn't focus on anything else. Taking a deep breath, he tried to place the strange quality it lent to the air. There was a taste to it that had never been there before. A sharpness on his tongue, crystal coolness, deep sea brine and something slimy he could not place.

Opening his eyes, Nyx was met with a familiar soft green glow. The ahtkar was all around him. Growing beneath him, over him, cocooning him. Judging from the feeling of his arms and legs, the ahtkar had also started to grow over him. Tiny roots dug into his skin. It was good he had woken up now. Any longer and he might have ended up as one of the Sleeping Ones scattered around the Temple.

Still, commanding his body to move was difficult. Each movement tore at the ahtkar. Blood dripped down his skin as Nyx finally stood. It stopped flowing within seconds. There were still patches clinging to his skin, but he ignored them. Once he got out of the Temple they would fall off on their own like they always had. He stretched, his fingers brushing against the ceiling of the small hollow he found himself in. Blue eyes squinted at the ahtkar in front of him. With his sharp fingernails he made short work of it.

His legs were shaky as he stepped out of the cocoon – it had been some time since he had last been chosen to look after the Temple. At once the strange smell became nearly overwhelmingly strong.

The Likeness towered above him like a grotesque protector. As if on instinct, his eyes drifted away from it. Even after all this time, it was nearly impossible to look at it. Then his gaze fell on a spot close to the entrance into the cavern like room. There was a dark spot. It looked scorched. Like something had burnt the ahtkar away and had blackened the stone beneath.

Stumbling over to the spot, Nyx wondered since when it was there. Luche had mentioned nothing after he had returned from his tenure of being a Temple Watcher. Something wiggled at his brain. A memory, of something that had happened recently. It was there, at the edge of his mind, but he could not grasp it properly. It drifted away like bubbles to the surface.

The blackened spot felt foreign. In equal parts burning hot and icy cold. When he carefully touched it, a pulsating sensation crawled up his arm. Nyx stumbled back, a sudden feeling of nausea at the back of his throat.

Heaving breaths rattled through him. The churning magicks in the air were proof of a conflict having happened here. And quite recently as well. It would take a long time until the ahtkar would be able to grow back in.

With clenched teeth Nyx stretched out his hand again until one of his fingers barely touched the scorched ground, and concentrated. Cutting-sharp-crystal-heat-scorching-cold-rattling-chains-hurtshurtshurtshurts-desperation-HELP invaded his senses. This time however Nyx knew to brace against it, clenched is teeth and concentrated. Someone had defended themself here. A trail lead back through the entrance. It was weak, but just enough for him to follow it. It led him outside, down the stone needle and into the jungle. The ahtkar clinging to his skin slowly turned to ashy dust. He walked past the waymark tree and through thick foliage until he came to a creek, and there he saw them.

The child and the adult, both asleep. The memories hit Nyx like a falling rock. How had he managed to forget this? The storm, the boat, those two falling into the sea. The strange magicks at the Temple made sense now. The feeling of crystal coolness, gently sharp edges and a heartbeat rattling the very earth coalesced thickly around them. These two belonged to the Heart. But...

He frowned. The Unspeakable Deep clung to the adult's presence like silt and crusty salt. It had never liked someone in its presence who did not belong to it. However Nyx couldn't imagine that the Heart would give up this adult easily. Not when it had left its own mark so clearly. Still, Nyx crept closer to get a better sense of what was happening.

Had outsiders always looked this strange? Their fingers were so short, the nails uneven and blunt. Nyx couldn't remember ever seeing such prominent noses and their eyes looked weird, though he could not say why. How well could they hear with such weirdly shaped ears? It was hard to believe that his people must have looked like this once as well. Nyx couldn't remember it.

There was saltwater slowly dripping out of the adult's mouth. For a few long seconds Nyx could do nothing but stare in incomprehension. Was this a Drowning? But why? There was no guarantee that the outsider would survive it, not with having been claimed by the Heart so thoroughly. Nyx could practically feel how the magic must have burned under his skin to leave these kind of marks. What would happen to the child – locked into dreams as it was – if the adult did not make it?

Without thinking Nyx took the last few steps towards the pair and grabbed the adult by the shoulder. He tugged at the Deep's presence, pleading but under no illusion it would work.

A pulse from the ring around the outsider's neck nearly made him stumble back, but he stood his ground, tightening his grip on the shoulder. The second pulse felt like a thousand needles were piercing his skin, but he held on, shaking the outsider non too gently.

“Come on, wake up!” Nyx commanded, words tumbling from his lips like a turbulent current.

Much longer and the child would be orphaned.

The adult coughed. Water sputtered from their mouth. They grimaced and then startled awake all at once, jerking upright, eyes clouded in disorientation. Nyx barely got his head out of the way.

For a split second their eyes met and Nyx was confronted with the grey of storm clouds that still allowed a glimpse of the blue of the sky. They were so small. Oh, that was what had bothered him about the outsiders' eyes. They were too small. And apparently the irises were surrounded by white. Surprisingly, this was not as repulsive to Nyx as it probably should be.

He was so surprised and entranced that he nearly missed the dagger aimed at him. But only nearly. Nyx managed to dodge just far enough away that any vital organs were missed. Instead the blade sunk into his shoulder. Stumbling back with a pained hiss, Nyx watched as the outsider sat up and scrambled to crouch protectively over their child. There was another dagger in the outsider's hand, and this time Nyx had managed to watch it appear from blue light and crystal shards. A sharp taste settled in the air between them.

With a steady hand Nyx pulled the dagger out from his shoulder. He could practically hear Libertus and Crowe scold him for how carelessly reckless he had just been. A fierce spike of homesickness shot through him. What he wouldn't give to be with them and hunting spiny dogfish right now. Instead he was here because the Elders and decreed that the Deep had chosen him as the next Temple Watcher for however long it pleased.

“Well, I deserved that one,” he said maybe less rueful that he should, hoping he was speaking the right tongue. “That thing with the daggers is a neat trick. Didn't know the Heart allowed something like that. How long did you practice for it?”

Oh Nyx, really?

The voice in his head sounded suspiciously like Crowe. He could just see her, pieces of kelp stuck in her hair stalks, rolling her eyes at him. Nyx did his best at giving the outsider a friendly grin. There was no reason to start fighting. The Unspeakable Deep already knew the two outsiders were here and hadn't killed them yet. That was as much permission as Nyx needed.

The outsider gave him a blank look. “What?”

So it was the right tongue. Nyx's grin gained a satisfied tilt.

“You know, the daggers,” he said gesticulating with the dagger in his hand, which probably wasn't the best idea.

His blood was still trailing along the blade.

The outsider followed the dagger in Nyx's hand with a kind of focus he only saw in cornered predators. Nyx felt the fine hairs at the back of his neck prickle.

“What. The f*ck are you?”

“Hey now, that's just insulting.”

The look he got could have probably frozen the magma fields down in the Trench. Nyx shuffled his feet, suddenly not quite sure what he was doing here.

“Look,” he said, trying to sound reasonable. “You're the one who's trespassing. I've just been trying to help.”

“If this is you helping, it is not appreciated.”

… Fair. Nyx was still irritated about the outlander's words however. They hadn't relaxed from their crouching position. Studying them, Nyx couldn't help but feel like he was looking into a rippling puddle. In broad strokes the two of them were similar enough when Nyx was land-locked, which made their differences all the more striking.

“Next time I'll just let you Drown then,” he said a touch indignant.

With more dramatic flare than strictly necessary, Nyx put his fists against his hips, careful not to stab himself with the knife in his hand. The outlander's gaze followed the gesture before abruptly snapping to his face, their expression set into an irritated scowl. When the words registered the scowl grew fierce.

“What do you mean by that?” the outlander demanded.

“Your stunt at the Temple made the Deep curious. It was calling to you, hence Drowning. But you've already been claimed by the Heart, very obviously so at that. Things like them really don't like it when those belonging to them are about to be taken away. Their struggle over you would have killed you. You're welcome.”

At least that was Nyx's best guess to what had happened. The Elders might harp on and on about the Will of the Unspeakable Deep, but no one knew what the Deep's motivations were. It was called unspeakable for a reason. Unspeakable meant one couldn't speak about it, so one couldn't know it. The Deep was the Deep and when someone got too close, they generally grew mad. It might have wanted to keep the outlander, make him one of the Galahkari, or it might have just wanted to kill them.

In silence Nyx sent a prayer of apology to the Deep for speaking about knowing its Will like that. But it had the desired effect to calm the outlander down a bit. The knife was still held firmly in their marked hand, but they were standing now. The child behind them, covered in a dark fabric, twitched in their sleep.

“You still haven't told me what you are.”

Nyx tilted his head back just enough to show his exasperation.

“You're not exactly an easy guy to talk to, you know that?” Then a thought occurred to him. “You are a guy, right?”

Just because the outlander looked male – at least Nyx thought they did – didn't mean they actually were male. Most Galahkari children didn't develop a distinct gender until they reached puberty, and even afterwards some didn't. It was just rude to assume. Nyx should probably apologize about that. Before he could however, the outlander was speaking.

“Of course I am. Now answer the damn question.”

“I'm male, obviously. Can't you tell?” Nyx quipped back.

The outlander looked like his gaze was about to drift down, before he thought better of it and looked slightly to the side. There was a slight discolouration on his cheeks. Was... was he embarrassed?

“That is not what I meant,” he snarled. “Are you a human? A daemon? What?”

Nyx blinked. “This is really bothering you, isn't it?”

The outlander just gave a non-verbal growl. It had a crystal sharp tinge at the very edge of Nyx's hearing range. Something shimmered ever so slightly beneath the cracks of ashen grey skin. Was the outlander aware he was doing this?

“I was born human. Is that what you want to know?” In fact, his little sister Selena had been among the last human born Galahkari children. “But my people don't really think in those terms. We're simply Galahkari.”