The Far Edge of Fate (Final Fantasy XV)

CHAPTER 38 - THE FAR EDGE OF FATE

The Citadel was also (thankfully) empty of Bahamut's clones as they ran inside. There was no time to take the elevator—as it didn't go all the way up to the roof—so they took the stairs instead. Noctis led the way, panicky and worried that he'd wasted too much time with his battle with Ardyn. He could only hope that the spell was still a ways off—that Aaralyn was still his Aaralyn.

When they reached the roof of the Citadel, the two orbs of gathering power and magic were significantly closer now. Noctis felt dizzy being so close to it. The circle around Lunafreya was flickering now, the spectral weapons nearly blinding in their radiance. Teraflare was almost ready to be cast. Beside her, the bubble that held Aaralyn suspended inside was nearly completely filled in.

"Great, so we're up here now," said Prompto. "How do we get up to them?!"

Noctis didn't respond, trying to think. A few hundred yards of air still separated them from Lunafreya and Aaralyn, with Bahamut's avatars gathering around them protectively. He had no idea how to scale those last few precious feet and get up there. To make matters worse, the clones of Bahamut were now descending upon them again. More than likely, they were far too close to his captives for comfort and he was now willing to do whatever it took to stop them, no matter how close to the Crystal they were.

"Noct, you have no time for this!" shouted Ignis. He ducked beneath the wide swing of one of their swords as Autumn threw her shuriken with deadly accuracy and knocked it out of the sky.

"Yeah, leave these guys to us!" Prompto chimed in.

"Hurry! We don't have much time left!" Gladiolus agreed.

"Right-!" Noctis hesitated all the same. He still had no idea how to get up to Aaralyn, much less how to free her. At least, not until Nyx drew his kukri and threw it into the air as hard as it could. It latched into the back of one of the avatars and he warped up to it, appearing on the back in a flash of sparks and magic. He balanced precariously on it as the avatar whirled around in confusion and threw the kukri again, warping to the next one.

That's one way of doing it, he thought before following Nyx's lead.

He warped from avatar to avatar, the balancing act far harder than it looked as the clones' sword wings cut his arms and legs. They stung fiercely, blood oozing down his skin, but he didn't dare stop. Not when he was so close.

Nyx was already making his way to Lunafreya, leaving Noctis to go straight for Aaralyn. He was close now—the power of Fate was making all the hair on his arms stand up on end and his eyes water from the intensity.

"Aaralyn!" he shouted, hoping she could hear him. But he was too overzealous—too eager in his next warp. The next clone shook him off almost immediately and he lost his footing. He let out a hoarse yelp of alarm as he fell off, and plummeted from the sky.

"Your Majesty!" shouted Nyx, fighting to keep his balance atop one of the clones.

Dammit— Noctis thought. He lifted his hand to throw his blade back up at the clones, but he was falling too fast. He didn't have a good enough arm to make it all the way up there. Not to mention, gods knew if he'd make it before Teraflare went off. This can't be how it ends-

Then, when he was just about to give up, he felt the very air around him shift with ancient, potent magic. A plume of fire broke his fall and propelled him back upwards. From beside him, in a burst of cinders, Ifrit appeared.

"Rise, O Chosen," he spoke, his voice like the crackling of a roaring flame. "The pact with the Oracle shall be honored."

"What the-" Noctis cringed. Just like every time with the other Astrals, he had a sudden vision of the pact Lunafreya had formed at the last minute with Ifrit after she'd sucked the Scourge from him. He could see his oldest friend, standing with her legs trembling beneath her. Aaralyn was helping her stand, still in her right mind and looking as fierce and beautiful as ever.