The aether opened with a howl of wind, and Noctis stepped out onto a knife's edge of stone.
A high mountain aerie stretched around him, jagged cliffs cutting sharp against a storm-choked sky. Clouds churned below like an endless sea, lightning flashing in their depths. The thin air burned his lungs with every breath.
He squinted into the roiling heavens. The mountain felt alive, trembling with each gust. His heart matched the rhythm, heavy in his chest.
Then the roar came.
It split the air like thunder. The clouds parted, and a shadow descended.
The Wyvern of Blackfire.
Its wings spanned the entire aerie, black as obsidian and veined with molten red. Its scales glowed faintly, as though lava ran beneath them. Ember-bright eyes fixed on him, unblinking. Every beat of its wings sent sparks raining across the cliffs. And when it opened its maw, flame spilled out — not orange, not gold, but black fire, flames that devoured light itself.
Noctis tightened his grip on the lance that shimmered into his hands. His pulse hammered in his ears.
"Figures. They'd throw a dragon at me."
The wyvern slammed its wings downward. The gale nearly lifted him from the cliff. He skidded backward, boots scraping against stone, before planting the lance like an anchor.
The beast dove. Claws as long as swords stretched for him, shadow blotting out the last glow of the twilight sky.
Noctis leapt.
His body became a streak of light, warping through the air, his lance flashing. Claw met steel in mid-air, the clash ringing like thunder. Sparks rained in every direction. The force hurled him back. He twisted mid-fall, wings of aether catching him before he slammed into the rocks.
The wyvern screeched, smoke and flame rolling from its jaws. Black fire poured forth, swallowing the cliff.
Noctis warped again, appearing behind it, his lance driving deep into its wing. The wyvern roared, twisting with impossible speed. Its tail whipped like a whip of iron, slamming into him. He crashed against the ground. Stone cracked. His bones rattled.
Groaning, he pushed to his knees. Blood trickled down his forehead, warm against the cold mountain wind. His vision blurred.
"You're not… Bahamut," he muttered, voice hoarse. "But you feel like him. Like fate breathing down my neck."
The wyvern's ember-eyes flared, as if mocking him.
The battle spiraled. The wyvern circled overhead, each pass raining flame and shadow.
Noctis warped and warped, his body screaming from the strain, his lungs burning with smoke. He stabbed, slashed, and spun, each strike carving sparks from its scales but never enough.
Every time he slowed, the fire came. Every time he stood his ground, the storm battered him back.
His arms shook beneath the weight of the lance. His breath came ragged. He felt it pressing on him again — the same suffocating decree that had followed him all his life.
Bahamut's voice.
You will die for the world.
The crown on his father's head. The sacrifice of kings. His friends, their lives gambled on his.
His destiny: the True King who burns so others may live.
Noctis's knees buckled. For a moment, his lance sagged. His mind flickered back to the throne room, to the crystal's embrace, to the moment he had given everything.
I already died once. I can't keep carrying this.
The wyvern shrieked, swooping down. Its claws reached for his chest, ready to tear him apart.
"No…" Noctis snarled. He forced himself upright, planting his lance. His jaw clenched, his voice rising like a roar. "Not this time. I won't die chained!"
At the last moment, he leapt.
Air rushed past his ears. Clouds swallowed him whole. His lungs screamed from the thinness, but he climbed higher, higher, the wyvern's shadow chasing.
The beast rose with him, black fire gathering in its throat. Its roar shook the heavens.
Noctis's grip tightened on his lance. His voice echoed against the storm.
"If I'm bound to dragons — then I'll use it. My fate, my blood, my strength… not for gods, not for prophecy. For my friends!"
The lance ignited. Not just with aether — with something older, something deeper. A flicker of Bahamut's soul, not a chain but a spark. The fire of kingship, reshaped into his own flame.
The wyvern unleashed its black inferno. Noctis dove headlong into it.
Fire seared his skin, burned through his cloak. His lungs filled with heat. But his eyes never wavered. His spear drove through shadow and flame alike, piercing the wyvern's chest.
The sky exploded. Flame and holy light burst outward, lighting the entire storm like dawn breaking through night.
The wyvern shrieked, wings spasming. It crashed down onto the aerie, rocks splitting beneath its weight.
Noctis landed hard, panting, smoke rising from his armor. His spear still glowed, ember-red against the night.
But the wyvern wasn't finished.
Its chest convulsed. Fire turned blacker still, veins of storm and venom splitting across its scales. Its wings stretched wide, jagged like broken glass. With a roar, it tore not just stone but the sky itself.
The mountain shattered.
Clouds bled away, replaced by fractured shards of desert, steppe, forest, storm. The world itself cracked, a twilight battlefield stretching where realms collided.
Noctis staggered, gripping his lance. His gaze swept the chaos.
Lilies glowed in poisoned soil. Aerith, staff raised, light blooming around her.
A flash of steel against stone — Zack, braced against a colossal hammer.
A laugh on the stormwind — Galuf, fists blazing against a Chimera's fury.
Their voices carried faintly across the broken battlefield.
"Noctis!" Aerith called, hope piercing the storm.
He lifted his lance, bloodied but steady. "I'm here."
The wyvern rose again, shadow-fused, its roar merging with the cries of the other trial monsters. The chorus of hatred shook the fractured realm.
Noctis's arms trembled, his chest burned, but his eyes burned steady.
"I'll leap as many times as it takes," he said, voice sharp with resolve. "Even if the sky itself breaks — I'll pierce through."
And with that, he stepped into the twilight battlefield, his oath blazing in his heart.