Rayne Drops (FFXV)

XLIX) The Chosen Ones

Everything is dark. Pitch black, bitter, cold darkness. I'm no longer shackled; I move freely even though I can't see where I'm going. I hold my hand out in front of me, picking up the pace just the slightest bit. One moment the floor is solid and rough, and the next, it's a knee-deep puddle of what I'm hoping is water. I pause, taking a second to take a deep breath and calm my nerves before walking further.

I'm not afraid of the dark, never have been. However, stumbling around blindly in rapidly deepening waters doesn't sound like the most enticing idea that's ever crossed my mind. I continue wading in hopes that the ground will elevate and my path will be straight once again. The sounds of water swishing and dripping around me are the only sounds I hear; I don't want to know if something else can hear them too.

I nearly fall over on my face when the hard floor underneath me starts to go up, leading me out of the water and into a drier walkway. I sigh, reaching toward the walls and fumbling around for anything that might help me see better. As if this is only a stage set for me, the puppet, there's a switch underneath my fingers. I don't hesitate to flip it on. A row of dim lights flickers on, revealing the smooth gray walls of a corridor. Turning back, I stoop down to look at the water. Just water. Huh. Curious, I reach down a hand and brush it across the cool surface of the water.

I hardly have time to pull my hand back before pale, cold fingers wrap around my wrist and drag me back down into waves much deeper than I remember. Water floods through my mouth, pouring down my throat to fill my lungs. I fight back against an iron grip to no avail, unable to hear my own cries for help in the sea of air bubbles rising rapidly around me.

There's another sharp tug and suddenly I'm thrown to dry land. Gasping for air and choking on the water lurching from my throat, I fall on all three limbs I have left. The room is pitch black, illuminated only by a bright white light shining in from overhead. There's a clink of metal; startled, I sit up straight and look around quickly. Nothing.

My heart hammers violently against my ribcage, threatening to break through bone and tension alike. There's another clink, and I look to the right, where I think the sound is coming from. Another. It's definitely coming from above. My eyes burn as they turn up to the light overhead, watering and squinting to see past the blinding beams. Suddenly, something snaps and all around me black splotches fall. With a sharp cry of surprise, I duck. The chains holding the objects catch, leaving them dangling around me. I take a deep breath before peering over my arm.

A strangled gasp wrestles out of my throat as I'm met face to face with the dangling, dead-eyed body of my father. Gagging and choking on the scent of rotting flesh, I stumble to my feet and turn to run somewhere else, only to collide with the swinging corpse of Gladio strung up by his neck. My breaths grow into pants muffled through my fingers as I look around wildly for an exit. All I see is the empty eyes of Prompto, the bloody figure of Wyn, and the bruised, scarred, shredded face of Ignis.

I jump when another light clicks on. Beneath its dust-ridden beam glints a familiar black throne. On its seat slouches the limp body of Noctis, pinned to the seat with the Oracle's trident through his chest. I brush past Cor's corpse with a violent shudder, staring at Noctis with wide eyes as my heart sinks in my chest. Never have I truly failed Noct. Never. Until...

As if I triggered a trap, a chain snaps tightly around my ankles and pulls me upward sharply. My head spins, aching and burning after being scraped against the rough floor that was once beneath my feet. Struggling, I try to wriggle my hands free of the cold metal links that have wound their way around my body and tightened far too much.

There's a slow movement, and when my chain spins toward the throne once more, I'm met with the limping figure of Noctis dragging himself toward me, dripping trident in hand. A menacing smile curls on his blue lips and a bitter vengeance burns in his bloodshot eyes.