Rayne Drops (FFXV)

XXX) Steyliff Grove

"Well, that wasn't too bad," Prompto admits, watching the shattered bones of undead skeletons skitter across the stone floor.

"Just wait," I scoff, my gunblade dissipating at my side. "Soon enough we'll be running across dragons and grim reapers and zombies."

"Knowing our luck, we may run into some sort of unknown, ancient creature," Ignis sighs.

By the time we've all entered the next large room, a ring of skeletons has begun digging away the hardened dirt that buried them. They stand with a long series of creaks from their yellowed bones, their bony hands clutching rusted, curved swords. A shower of sparks sprays into my face as my blade clashes with another. Forcing the skeleton back, I slam the edge of my blade into its ribs, causing its whole aged form to collapse into a pile of bones. The blue light of its undead life dies within its skull moments later.

Aranea sweeps her enormous spear out to the side, taking out three skeletons at a time while Noctis and Ignis pair up on another scattered group. It's not long before the fight is over and the ancient stone floor is completely covered in femurs and skulls alike. Prompto doubles over, panting before he pulls out his camera with a wobbly grin.

"Gladio doesn't know what's he's missing out on!"

"I don't think Gladio cares," Noctis grumbles, crossing his arms in the midst of the bone pile and staring at the camera lens flatly. Prompto laughs, clicking away. Aranea sighs, looking down the next hallway impatiently. I contain a snicker when Noctis nearly trips over a cracked humorous, barely catching his balance in time to send me an irritated glance. "Y'know, I don't appreciate..."

He's cut off as he shouts in surprise, summoning his sword to his hand as strong, bony fingers shoot forth from the ground and wrap tightly around his ankle.

"Noct!" Ignis shouts, grabbing for his javelin.

The prince struggles to get his foot free as a dark shadow pulls itself out from the earth, a dim violet light glowing around its faint figure. Its second hand slams down on the floor, pushing down to pull itself up further to reveal a tattered cloak pulled over the blackened shape of a skeleton. Noctis gives a particularly hard pull, jerking the daemon free and falling backwards into a pile of bones.

A dark glint barely catches my eye before I'm surfing over a skittering sea of bones, my gunblade blocking my face as I parry a strong blow from the daemon's scythe. I'm barely balanced over the cracked remains of a ribcage, pushing back against the reaper with as much strength as I can manage without slipping. "Noct, move!"

Ducking away from the pointed scythe, I stumble away from the glowing fiend. Now that the prince is at a safe distance, I summon a fireball to my hand and launch it toward the monster. And explosion of flames ensues, the creature screeching and screaming, desperately trying to extinguish its melting body. As the second explosion sets off, it shrieks its last and melts into a pile of amethyst ash. Aranea gives a low whistle as flames continue to lick at the remains of our enemies.

"That was some powerful spell."

"Dualcast fira," I mutter, dusting the ash off my clothes and heading out to the hall with Noctis leading the way. My heart's nearly bursting out of my rib cage; I can hardly hear more than its beat. In my peripheral vision, I can see my shirt vibrating with every thud. This whole Gladio thing is too stressful for someone like me.

As we approach it, a tall stone door decorated with striped gold triangles lifts into the ceiling, letting us past into the next crumbling corridor. Ignis sighs. "Beautiful beyond words..."

"That is pretty neat," Prompto muses, looking up at the ceiling in the center of the massive stack of balconies above and below us.

Right where a drab stone pattern should be, a crystal clear body of water clings to sky, graceful waves gliding over its surface. Underneath the deep blue lake, a gnarled tree stretches its branches toward the water, extending its arms for its live-giving savior. A fever of stingrays pasts over, their fins flowing as gracefully as the waves they reside in. I guess it's about to get hot in here.