Dawn had barely broken when we made our way through the silent corridors of the Sanctuary.
The weight of the Divine Children's decree still pressed against me, heavy as chains, but I forced myself to focus. The others had their own reservations—Elaris's jaw was tight with unease, Lucian's grip on his sword was firmer than usual despite his injury, and Alaria… well, Alaria's fingers never left her daggers.
"I hope you realize," Veylara murmured in my mind, "that this is a trap."
Of course, I knew.
But we needed answers.
The grand marble hallways led us downward, deeper into the heart of the cathedral, where the walls shifted from pristine white stone to something older. Darker. The air became heavier, thick with incense and something more unsettling—a pulsing presence, almost as if the walls themselves were breathing.
"This doesn't feel right," Gareth muttered, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings. "Holy places aren't supposed to feel like tombs."
I didn't reply.
Because he was right.
The lower halls weren't just ancient—they were sealed. I could feel it in the air, the traces of divine wards woven into the stone, wards meant to contain something. And now, we were walking straight into them.
The hall opened into a vast circular chamber, its ceiling lost in shadow, lit only by flickering golden braziers. At the far end stood a massive altar, etched with the sigils of the Seven Divine Children.
But we were alone.
Or so I thought.
Then, I felt it.
The air shifted.
A presence unlike anything else descended upon the chamber, heavy as judgment, suffocating as divine wrath.
And then they appeared.
One by one, the Divine Children materialized from the golden flames.
Aelira, the Eternal Flame, her burning gaze searing into me.
Veloras, the Blade of Judgment, his presence sharp as a drawn sword.
Ardrel, the Radiant Shield, a wall of unbreakable resolve.
Serienne, the Voice of Grace, silent now, her radiance twisted into something unreadable.
Thaldrin, the Keeper of Wisdom, his knowing gaze filled with something dark.
Calessyn, the Heart of Valor, no longer a beacon of courage but a force of war.
Eryndis, the Weaver of Fate, her silver threads shimmering like spider's silk, her veiled gaze locked onto me.
I heard Elaris inhale sharply beside me.
"They're not here to talk," Lucian muttered, his good hand reaching for his sword.
No.
They weren't.
Because the moment their eyes met mine, I knew.
They were here to kill me.
"Run." Veylara's voice was sharp, urgent, real fear threading through her usual amusement. "Noctis, RUN."
But it was too late.
Aelira raised her hand.
The braziers exploded, golden fire roaring to life, encircling us in a searing inferno. The heat was suffocating, divine light pressing against my skin like a thousand blades.
"You carry the Rift," Aelira's voice was a decree, unwavering. "And worse—you carry the Whispering One."
Veylara snarled in my mind.
"How bold of them. They still dare to call me that?"
Veloras moved.
I barely had time to react before he vanished, reappearing in front of me in a flash of golden fire, his blade already swinging.
I threw myself back, narrowly avoiding the divine strike, but the sheer force sent me skidding across the stone. My ribs screamed in protest.
They weren't holding back.
Alaria was already moving, her daggers flashing as she lunged for Serienne, but the saint of compassion caught her wrist mid-strike—with one hand—and shattered the bones in it with a sickening crunch.
Alaria screamed.
Lucian roared, his sword igniting with his own magic as he went for Calessyn, their blades clashing in a shockwave of power. But Lucian was still injured—he was getting pushed back.
Gareth barely had time to chant a spell before Thaldrin's hand lifted—and suddenly, his magic vanished. The mage staggered, his breath hitching.
"They're—" Gareth gasped, eyes wide, "sealing our magic."
My stomach dropped.
This wasn't a fight.
This was execution.
I had to move.
I forced myself up, ignoring the searing pain in my ribs, and called upon the Rift.
The moment I did, the air cracked.
The chamber warped, shadows rippling as my power pushed back against their divine presence. The flames around me shuddered, flickering as if something unseen was trying to devour them.
Aelira's eyes narrowed.
"You dare use the Rift here?" Her voice was scathing.
Veloras was already moving again, his blade a blur—but this time, I didn't dodge.
I stepped through the Rift.
The world fractured—for a heartbeat, everything was black.
And then I was behind him.
I struck out, aiming for his back—but his sword was already there, twisting midair with inhuman precision, intercepting my strike.
Shit.
He's fast.
I barely had time to block the counterstrike, the force sending shockwaves through my arms.
Then Eryndis moved.
The moment her fingers twitched, my body froze.
I couldn't move.
The air around me twisted, silver threads wrapping around my limbs, my throat, my chest.
"Your thread is tangled," she murmured, her voice curling into my skull. "And I will weave it anew."
No.
No, no, no—
Aelira raised her hand.
The fire in her palm blazed brighter—a golden pyre meant to consume me whole.
"NOCTIS!" Veylara's voice snapped.
The Rift screamed inside me.
And I let it loose.
Reality fractured.
The silver threads unraveled.
The flames collapsed inward.
For a split second, the Divine Children hesitated—just long enough for me to tear myself free.
Veylara laughed, dark and vicious.
"You fools still don't understand." Her voice echoed through the chamber, but this time—it wasn't just in my head.
The air shook.
For the first time, the Divine Children looked afraid.
"She's still—" Ardrel started.
Veylara's presence surged.
And the golden flames turned black.
Aelira staggered back, her eyes wide.
"Impossible," she breathed.
But it was possible.
Because I wasn't alone.
Veylara's shadow coiled around me, her voice a whisper of triumph.
"You will not take him from me."
And just like that—the fight had changed.
I grinned.
"Your move, 'Divine Children.'"
The chamber shuddered, the golden flames corrupting into an abyssal black.
For the first time, uncertainty flickered across Aelira's face. Even Veloras hesitated, his sword faltering in its perfect arc.
They had never expected this.
They had never expected her.
"Ah, my sweet Noctis," Veylara purred, her voice bleeding into my mind, into my veins. "You've held me back long enough. Shall I show them why they once feared me?"
My fingers twitched.
And then I was no longer in control.
A sudden coldness washed over me, my body going rigid—like a marionette whose strings had just been claimed by another master. My breath hitched as my own lips parted, and yet, the voice that poured from them wasn't mine.
"Oh, how long it has been."
Veylara spoke through me, her voice silken, laced with something ancient—something that did not belong in this world. It echoed across the chamber, curling around the Divine Children like smoke.
They reacted instantly.
Veloras lunged, his blade flaring with divine fire as he brought it down with an executioner's strike.
Veylara—I—moved faster.
With inhuman grace, I twisted, my body bending at an unnatural angle, avoiding the blade by the width of a breath. My fingers flicked—and the Rift howled.
A fissure of pure void tore through the space between us, the golden fire splitting apart like oil over water. Veloras gritted his teeth, twisting away as the unnatural rift lashed out at him, forcing him to retreat.
"You still rely on your precious judgment," Veylara mused, tilting my head as if disappointed. "Haven't you learned? Judgment is blind. And you—" she grinned through my lips, "—are about to see."
With a flick of my wrist, the Rift expanded, warping the chamber around us.
The laws of reality shattered.
The marble floor fractured, twisting into impossible angles—walls curled into themselves, torches burned with cold light, and the air broke apart in shimmering distortions.
Serienne stepped forward, her hand outstretched—her voice resonating like a divine hymn.
"Enough!"
The power behind it was immense—a shockwave of pure grace meant to purge corruption. The very air hummed with it, a force that could have shattered an ordinary soul.
But Veylara laughed.
A wave of Rift energy burst outward from my chest, warping Serienne's magic, twisting it into something unholy. Her radiant light dimmed, flickering—her expression faltered.
"Grace?" Veylara hummed, stepping forward with my body, each movement unnervingly smooth, like a shadow shifting in torchlight. "How quaint. But tell me, little saint—"
She vanished.
And then, in the blink of an eye, she was behind Serienne.
"—what grace do you show to those you burn?"
Serienne spun, but it was too late. Veylara's hand—my hand—was already against her back.
Void surged.
Serienne screamed as the very air behind her collapsed, a tear of pure emptiness forming where she had once stood. The fabric of existence bent.
Ardrel reacted instantly, slamming his massive shield between us, a burst of divine energy surging outward, forcing Veylara—me—back.
But she only sighed.
"Still shielding them, are you?" she mused, rolling my shoulders. "Even after all this time. Tell me, Ardrel—how many have you shielded that did not deserve it?"
Ardrel didn't answer.
He only struck.
A shockwave of divine force exploded outward, the sheer weight of it crushing the air, sending cracks through the already-warped chamber. My feet slid back, my ribs burning from the impact.
But Veylara did not stop.
She moved forward, my body flowing like liquid shadow, Rift energy swirling around us in a storm of fractured light and abyssal darkness.
Thaldrin raised a hand, golden threads of wisdom and fate forming a sigil beneath us, an incantation meant to seal me—to seal her.
"Begone, Voidwalker," he intoned, his voice ringing with absolute authority. "Your time has passed."
And for a moment—
For a single heartbeat—
The world shook.
The Rift inside me writhed, reacting to the divine command, screaming as Thaldrin's power pressed down on it.
But Veylara smiled.
And then she spoke his true name.
The moment the sound left my lips, Thaldrin stumbled—his spell faltering, his eyes wide with shock.
"You still think wisdom is knowing all things, little sage?" Veylara whispered through me, stepping forward as golden light cracked in Thaldrin's palms. "Let me tell you a secret."
She leaned in.
"I knew you before you were this."
Thaldrin staggered back, his very presence flickering, as if for a split second, he wasn't real.
Eryndis moved.
The moment her silver threads wrapped around me, Veylara froze.
"You are not supposed to be here," Eryndis whispered, her voice more than a sound—a decree of fate itself. Her hands moved, weaving unseen threads, her power curling through the very fabric of time.
"You are a stain," she murmured, pulling.
And suddenly, the Rift within me screamed.
Veylara snarled.
"Foolish weaver!" Her voice boomed, the air fracturing as she fought against the pull of Fate itself. "You think I am bound to your threads? I am the unknowable, the untethered! You do not weave me!"
The Rift collapsed inward, warping the entire chamber, the Divine Children pushed back by the sheer force of it.
For the first time, Veylara struggled.
And I felt it.
I felt the cracks forming—the tenuous grasp she held over my body beginning to slip.
"Noctis!" Veylara's voice echoed through my skull, a sharp demand. "You will not—"
But I pushed back.
I fought.
I tore my body back from her grasp.
The Rift shrieked, shadows unraveling from my limbs, my body convulsing as I gasped for air, falling to my knees.
The Divine Children held their ground, golden radiance burning against the lingering tendrils of darkness.
I pressed a hand to my chest, panting, my head spinning. My fingers trembled as I tried to stabilize myself.
Veylara was still there, lurking in the depths of my mind, seething.
But she had lost control.
I lifted my gaze, meeting Aelira's.
There was no triumph in her expression.
Only wariness.
Only acknowledgment.
"You are dangerous," she said, her voice steady. "But you are not lost."
The flames around us dimmed.
The air settled.
For now.
And I realized—
This wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
The Rift had settled, its chaotic tendrils retreating back into my body, leaving behind only a gnawing emptiness. My breath came in shallow gasps as I fought to steady myself, my limbs still trembling from the battle for control. The Divine Children stood before me, their radiant forms unmarred by the chaos that had just transpired.
They didn't move.
They didn't speak.
They were watching me.
Judging me.
And then—
She spoke.
"You imbecile."
Veylara's voice ripped through my mind like a blade of jagged glass, fury incarnate.
"You denied me."
Pain exploded behind my eyes, like hot needles stabbing into my skull. I clutched my head, gritting my teeth as her voice rose, a tempest of rage, a maelstrom of wrath and betrayal.
*"You—" she snarled, her presence crashing into me like a storm tide, *"had the power to break them, Noctis! To make them kneel! And yet—you fought me! You fought me!"
I groaned, my vision warping at the edges as she clawed at my thoughts, her rage a living thing, slithering through my veins like fire.
"Do you have any idea what you just did?!" she raged, her voice spiraling into a scream, raw and furious. "You gave them mercy! You let them live! You let them believe they are still above you!"
The Divine Children were silent, but I could feel it—they could hear her.
Eryndis's silver threads shimmered, her veiled gaze still locked onto me, measuring. Aelira's flames flickered with uncertainty. Even Veloras, ever the executioner, had yet to lift his blade again.
But Veylara didn't care.
She was seething.
"I could have ended them," she spat. "I could have taken them apart, torn their threads from existence itself, unwoven their pathetic divinity strand by strand!"
I pushed back against her, my hands gripping the cold stone beneath me, nails digging in.
"Then why didn't you?!" I snapped back, my voice ragged.
She froze.
The words struck her, raw and unexpected.
For a moment, the rage halted, shifting into something else—something dangerous.
"What?"
I sucked in a sharp breath, lifting my gaze despite the searing pain in my skull. My fingers twitched at my sides, my pulse hammering.
"If you had the power to unravel them, then why are they still standing?" I said through clenched teeth. "Why do they still breathe?"
Silence.
It stretched between us like the abyss itself.
And then, slowly—so slowly—Veylara laughed.
Not the light, teasing laughter she sometimes graced me with.
Not the amused chuckles when she toyed with me.
No.
This was something else.
It was twisted. Hollow. A sound that carried the weight of ages. A laughter that belonged to someone who had once known something beyond comprehension—and had lost it.
"Ahh…" she exhaled, the rage simmering into something far worse. "There it is."
A flicker of something sharp and cruel slithered through her voice.
"You think you're clever, don't you?" she purred, mocking now. "But you don't understand, Noctis. Not yet."
I clenched my fists. "Then make me understand."
The Rift inside me lurched.
And suddenly—
She was in front of me.
Not physically.
Not in reality.
But inside my mind.
She stood in the endless void of my consciousness, veils drifting like ink in water, twin silver eyes burning through me.
"They do not fear you." Her voice was velvet, but laced with something poisonous. "They fear me."
She stepped closer, the fabric of the void shifting around her, warping under her presence.
"And I?" Her voice was a whisper now, curling like smoke around my ears. "I cannot break them yet. Not as I am."
My breath hitched.
"Not yet?"
Her lips curled into something that was not quite a smile.
"You are still too weak to carry me fully."
The words sent a chill through my core.
*"You still fight me. You still resist. But, Noctis—" she reached forward, her fingers grazing my face, her touch cold as the void itself, "—one day, you won't."
I shoved her hand away.
"I will never be your puppet."
She laughed again, slow and wicked.
"Oh, but you will."
And with that—
The connection severed.
I was back in the chamber, gasping, my vision swimming as I staggered forward. My body felt too light, as if I had been inches away from floating into the Rift itself.
Elaris caught me before I could fall, her grip firm, her lavender eyes scanning me with thinly veiled horror.
"Noctis," she whispered, and her voice was softer than I expected.
I forced a breath.
The Divine Children watched.
They had seen everything.
Aelira finally spoke, her voice low, measured.
"You do not control it."
It wasn't a question. It was a fact.
I wiped the sweat from my forehead, pushing myself upright. "I'm working on it."
Her gaze flickered. "And if you fail?"
I met her eyes.
"Then you'll be the first to know."
A heavy silence stretched between us.
Then, Veloras slowly sheathed his sword.
"You will leave the Sanctuary at dawn," he said, his tone sharp as his blade. "You will not return."
I exhaled, glancing at my companions.
None of them protested.
Because they knew.
We had been given mercy once.
It wouldn't happen again.
I turned on my heel, forcing myself to move despite the weight in my chest. The others followed.
But just before I stepped beyond the ruined threshold of the chamber—
Eryndis spoke.
"You will choose soon, Noctis," she said softly. "Whether you like it or not."
I hesitated.
I didn't look back.
Because I already knew—
She was right.