The Far Edge of Fate (Final Fantasy XV)

CHAPTER 39 - DEWDROPS AT DAWN

chapter title comes from 'Dewdrops At Dawn' from the Final Fantasy XV OST. It is also recommended, but not required, to listen as you read.

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Aaralyn could feel the sun on her face.

It was what woke her initially as she slowly blinked awake. She recognized her surroundings almost immediately. This was her apartment in Lestallum, complete with the awkward lumpy bed she'd been sleeping in for the past ten years.

She thought hard, trying to jack her memory. She remembered taking down Bahamut, the return of the dawn she'd craved to see after a decade of darkness, and then...

Well, there wasn't much after that.

She remembered being barely able to stand on her own, drained beyond her limits, both physically and magically. She must have fallen asleep in Noctis's arms, safe and secure at last.

And, speaking of which...

"Hey."

Aaralyn lifted her head the slightest to see Noctis sitting at her bedside. He was watching her with a warm smile, his eyes twinkling with warmth.

"Good morning," he said softly.

Aaralyn sat up slowly, rubbing a hand down her face. She felt gross and sweaty—way overdue for a shower. She gave Noctis a weak smile. "Morning."

Noctis reached forward to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was gentle. "You've been asleep for a bit," he said softly. "That fight must have really worn you out."

"You have no idea," Aaralyn admitted. She felt a little more well-rested now, with a little more energy to tackle the days to come. It helped that they actually had days now, she thought, admiring the sunlight streaming through the window.

She yawned, stretching her arms above her head, feeling a satisfying pop in her spine, before a sharp burning pain made her hiss and pull her arms back down. She realized quickly why—her right arm was covered in bandages that could have only been done by Cassielle.

"Take it easy," Noctis said. He set a warm, gentle hand on her back. "You were almost turned into an Astral, y'know."

Aaralyn examined the bandages on her arm. Last she remembered, this arm was covered in burning golden marks from Bahamut nearly managing to destroy her body and soul into his own personal puppet. She followed the spiral of them, finding they went up her sleeve and around her shoulder, even up around the curve of her jaw.

"I didn't realize the magic had gotten so far," she admitted.

"Yeah," Noctis said, his voice somewhat bitter. "Cassielle said it burned you and you should try to avoid using the arm." He paused, setting his hand over her bandages. "They left scars," he said.

Aaralyn paused. Scars were nothing new. Gods knew she had a surplus of them thanks to years of service as a member of the Kingsglaive. But call her morbidly curious, she wanted to see what overwhelming magic meant to morph her into a goddess scarred like. She gently lifted her arm and slowly peeled back the clip keeping the bandages in place. She unraveled them as far as she dared up her arm, letting the wrappings pool in her lap.

The scars Noctis was talking about were golden, starting from the center of her palm and spiraling outwards. They coiled in seemingly random areas all over her arm as it rose, widening in some places and so small that she could barely see it in others. It curled around her forearm, over her shoulder, and up into her sleeves into the rest of the bandages.

Noctis sat there for a moment, hand on her thigh, awaiting her verdict as she inspected her arm. Silently, she ran a finger along the raised skin around the golden marks.