The Far Edge of Fate (Final Fantasy XV)

CHAPTER 32 - HOME SWEET HOME

TW: This chapter contains graphic depictions of self-harm. If you'd like to skip it, the beginning and end of it are bolded.

this is the chapter in which i found out google docs has a character limit. this is the funniest thing that's ever happened to me

Chapter title comes from 'Home Sweet Home' from the Final Fantasy XV: Episode Prompto OST.

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After her watch, Aaralyn woke Prompto to take the next one. He woke up quickly—too quickly for his usual habits, if she was being honest—and didn't complain when she gave  him the next watch. He pulled himself out from his sleeping bag to sit somewhere near the mouth of the cave and stare off into the snowbanks. Aaralyn doubted he'd gotten any sleep at all. She couldn't blame him. The things they'd seen and learned in that terrible lab would torment anyone at night. Even Adelaide seemed to be struggling to sleep. Her eyes were closed but she kept rolling over in her bag every few minutes.

Aaralyn crawled into her bedroll, grateful at last to be resting her head. Immortalis had not moved since they'd accidentally reactivated him, and she was grateful for it. She didn't have the first clue how they were going to stop it, but she also knew there was no way in hell they could just leave it there. She had a suspicion it was merely taking the time to fully reactivate itself and when it did, it would cause nothing but problems for the people of the Night.

Aaralyn lay on her back. Uncomfortable stones dug into her back, but she ignored them. She was exhausted and freezing and ached all over. Her arm stung, but she didn't have the energy to check on her bandages. Probably a bad idea, but she wasn't full of rational thought right now.

She rolled onto her side, as close to the flickering fire as she dared. It was doing jack at helping her warm up, but it was better than nothing as she closed her eyes. It took a moment but sleep took her greedily, exhaustion from the events of today too much for her paranoid body to fight.

The same dream tormented her sleep. Insomnia was beautiful, Noctis was beautiful, and the second when everything shifted and turned cold continued to terrify her. She awoke with the same warning ringing in her head.

"Trust not in the Blades."

She lay there for a moment, trying to calm her somewhat labored breathing. She could still see Noctis, painted on the inside of her eyelids, serene and then so, so foreboding. She hated it. She hadn't had a recurring nightmare like this since she was a child and could only dream of her father dying before her eyes.

Fuck.

She rolled onto her back, pressing her hand to her forehead. Her ears were ringing. It took her a moment, but her breathing slowly evened out. She listened quietly to the crackle of the fire by her, to Adelaide's somewhat heavy breathing to her right. It helped to ground her—remind her where she was.

She could hear Prompto's footsteps coming closer to the fire. At first, she thought he meant to stoke it and throw more sticks onto the pile to make sure it kept them warm through the night. She heard the shuffle of the kindling and then he was walking away again, far too quickly for him to be trying to stoke the embers of a dying fire.

Was he taking a stick to build one closer to the mouth of the cave?

That was dangerous—the smoke could give them away to any daemons who thought they needed a late-night snack. She braced a hand underneath her, pushing herself into a sitting position, squinting over at the mouth of their cave to check on Prompto. The light was dim, but she could see him holding a stick still white-hot from the flames. She opened her mouth to speak, to ask what he was doing, but she never got the chance to. Prompto was lifting the stick, and, after a moment of hesitation, was pressing it down to his wrist.