The chatter in the carriage faded into a dull hum.
The rhythmic clatter of the wheels against the stone, the soft rustling of clothes as the others shifted in their seats, the distant howl of the desert wind—it all blurred together, becoming something distant.
Something separate.
Because my mind was elsewhere.
Lost.
Drifting in a tide of thoughts I had spent too long trying to drown.
Do I deserve this?
The question whispered through my head, quiet yet suffocating, like sand slipping through my fingers no matter how tightly I tried to hold it.
I could still feel their voices, their conviction, their loyalty. Their belief in me.
It should have reassured me.
It should have felt like a victory.
But instead, it felt like a blade pressed against my ribs.
Because deep down, I still wondered—
Are they here because of me… or because of what I am?
I wasn't naïve. I knew how power worked. How people gravitated toward it, how it shaped relationships, how it twisted truths.
I had seen it before. I had lived it before.
When I first gained the Rift, people looked at me differently. Even before that, back when I wielded light, back when I was still something pure, I had seen how others treated me like something larger than life.
Like something to admire.
Or something to fear.
How many times had I questioned the hands reaching for me? How many times had I wondered if they were drawn to the power I carried—not the man underneath it?
And if the power was gone?
Would they stay?
Would they still look at me the same way?
Would they still believe in me?
A cold thought curled in my chest.
Would they still care if I was just… Noctis?
I let out a slow breath, staring at my hand resting against my knee.
Would I even know who Noctis is without this power?
A part of me hated that thought.
Because deep down, I wanted to believe them.
Lucian. Gareth. Callen. Even Alaria, in her sharp-tongued, reckless way.
And Elaris…
Elaris.
My fingers twitched.
The weight in my chest shifted, a deep ache settling there—something raw, something that made my throat tighten.
Because she loved me.
Not just what I was.
Not just what I could do.
But me.
Noctis.
She had always seen past the power, past the Rift, past the title of Voidbane Seraph or Riftwalker or whatever name people whispered when they thought I couldn't hear them.
She had seen me, even when I had struggled to see myself.
When I lost my light magic, she didn't turn away.
When I first gained the Rift, she didn't hesitate.
And now, when Veylara's presence was stronger than ever—when even I was afraid of what I was becoming—she still stood beside me.
Not because of the power.
Not because of the danger.
Not because she needed something from me.
But because she chose me.
Not the Rift. Not the void.
Me.
And that realization felt like breathing after drowning.
Like warmth seeping through the cracks of something I had thought was already broken beyond repair.
I swallowed hard, my hand curling into a fist against my knee.
Maybe I didn't deserve this.
Maybe I would always doubt.
Maybe I would always wonder if the people around me would leave if I wasn't powerful anymore.
But Elaris?
She would never leave.
Because her love wasn't tied to the void or the power or the battle ahead.
It was tied to me.
And maybe, just maybe…
That was enough.