Nephis could feel a headache taking shape.
"Don't be so sullen, my new friend! The moon shines on us today!" the annoying man said, spreading his hands flamboyantly as if he were the lead actor in a play.
The headache took root, settling into a slow, relentless pounding that made her skull feel like a drum.
"Here I was, prepared to take some rather unsavory measures when you fell out of the sky! It cannot be anything but the will of Fate," Noctis continued cheerfully.
She resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose and simply shook her head at the eccentric saint. To think she would meet two of them in a matter of days—of all the absurd possibilities. And this one seemed even crazier than the last, despite hiding it better.
"I have agreed to none of your requests," she said in a deadpan tone—or at least, that was her intention. Instead, her voice came out melodic and pure. It still felt wrong, as if she sang as naturally as she breathed.
"Neither have you rejected them, my shiny new friend!" She was tempted to just fly away and leave the man behind. "Give me a chance and I'll show you why it's necessary. I am, after all, the most convincing man in the entire Kingdom of Hope!"
The headache—and the temptation—both intensified. She sighed inwardly.
She hated the fact that he wasn't wrong. If anything he said was true—and she was leaning towards believing him, she would need his help.
To think there was a Daemon here, in this very nightmare. A true divine being, on par with the Gods themselves. Imprisoned in what she assumed to be the Ivory Tower, given Noctis's description, her power locked behind seven chains that represented the lives of seven —now five— transcendents who had been made immortal by the Sun God himself. It sounded like one of the stories her grandmother used to tell her before bed.
She wasn't completely certain, but everything pointed toward the same conclusion: the purpose of this nightmare was to free Hope. The seed's placement, the constant attention the Ivory Tower received as time and the world rewound itself, the too convenient encounters with two of her future targets… it all aligned too well.
And wasn't that daunting? Five transcendents stood between her and success. It was absurd, Awakened candidates expected to ascend by killing beings two whole ranks beyond them? The accursed Spell never made things easy, did it?.
Good. She wouldn't become stronger if the challenges ahead of her weren't up to par.
She didn't say so, but she had already accepted Noctis's offer of alliance. She welcomed challenges, but she wasn't suicidal.
There were too many things waiting for her in the Waking World to die that easily.
"Where are we heading?" she asked, if only so that the man wouldn't go into another self-aggrandizing tirade.
Noctis blinked, as if surprised that she had noticed the fact that the ship had changed direction, then smiled exuberantly, catching the indirect agreement.
"We? My oh my, have you fallen for my charms already?" He fluttered his eyelashes, contorting his face into what he likely imagined a seductive smile. He managed to hold it for all of one second before bursting into laughter at her expression. "My apologies, I couldn't resist!"
…She was leaving.
Noctis hurriedly shook his hands in apology, a silent plea to wait present in his eyes.
"Allow me to explain. The obsidian and ivory knives are already in your possession. The wooden knife rests in that mad wench Solvane's hold. That leaves only two unaccounted for. The ruby knife is safeguarded by a dear friend of mine and can be retrieved anytime. The glass knife, however, was hidden by the Shadow Lord before his death. We are heading to his fortress, where his last servant still resides. I hope you can persuade him to reveal its location." Noctis said, a measure of seriousness finally appearing in the eccentric man.
"Why can't you convince that servant yourself?" she asked, and then, just because of how much he had annoyed her, she added dryly, "You are the most convincing man in the Kingdom of Hope, after all."
Instead of being offended, the transcendent seemed amused by her retort. "Well, you see, that servant is a little skittish and won't reveal himself easily—least of all to someone as magnificent and mighty as I. You, however, he might approach."
"Why is that?" she asked, genuinely curious.
"There is a certain smell to you. It's barely there, almost indistinguishable, but I could recognize it anywhere."
She blinked and surreptitiously smelled herself. Did she stink?
"You, my shiny friend, have the smell of a shadow on you, a divine one at that." A sly smile took form on his beautiful face, raising alarm bells in her head. "I'm rather curious about finding out the story behind it myself. A descendant of the Sun and one of Shadow getting close enough for that? How deliciously scandalous!"
She betrayed nothing—no flinch, no blush, no twitch. Her face remained a calm mask. Internally? She felt like dying of embarrassment. It had been just a hug! How could that be enough to smell like Sunny!?
"What do I get in exchange?" she asked, if only to distract herself.
The mischievous smile on Noctis's face told her he hadn't fallen for the attempt to change the topic, but he acquiesced nonetheless. "Come now, we are friends! What's a little favor between us?" The saint was truly shameless.
"It's because we're friends that you should pay me back," she replied evenly. "I don't want you feeling guilty for taking advantage of me."
Effie had used that line a million times already. She was immune.
The saint pouted, the expression oddly endearing despite the man being centuries old at the very least.
"Yes, yes, you are right. What would people think if I were to ask for a favor and offer nothing in return? I'm the most generous man in all of the Kingdom of Hope, after all!"
If she was honest with herself, Noctis reminded her of Sunny—a more open, unashamedly-himself version at least. And just like Sunny, she did not allow the exuberant exterior to fool her. As much of a clown as Noctis pretended to be, he was a dangerous man, perhaps the most dangerous she had ever met.
Necessary as he might be if they were to free Hope, she refused to be treated like a puppet. She would have gone to meet that servant anyway, since he held vital information, but demanding payment for her actions was a message she had to send. If he wanted her help, he would have to make it worth her while.
"Hmm, what would be an apt reward for such a priceless service?" He tapped his own chin, seemingly in deep thought.
"You claimed to be the greatest sorcerer of this kingdom—can you teach me?" she asked. She was always on the lookout for ways to become more powerful, and this one seemed like a good avenue.
"Of course! If we start after you retrieve the information, you will be a capable sorcerer in no less than two hundred years," Noctis said brightly.
The worst part was that he wasn't even being cheeky. He meant the words sincerely. Of course it couldn't be that easy, she lamented internally.
"Although… hmm… with that beautiful voice of yours, perhaps there is something else I could teach you that shouldn't take that much time. Tell me, Nephis, my friend, have you ever heard about the sorcery of names?"
-------------------------------------------
Nephis dreamed.
She dreamed of being a Lady, witnessing the end of the Kingdom of Hope. She dreamed of being an old priestess, watching the death of her mother by Solvane's hands. She dreamed of being a princess, bound and chained by her own brother, tortured endlessly in search of a secret she didn't even remember knowing. Of being imprisoned within a metal cage and then burning alive for hours.
That was the first time she woke up, but it didn't last before she was drowned under the tide of sleep once more. She dreamed of being the Shadow Lady, of entrusting the glass knife to a servant and then leaving to take a last stroll with her trusty steed. Right as she was about to plunge the knife in her heart, she woke up once more—her will and conviction too great to be smothered again so easily.
She staggered upon recovering conscious thought, quickly stowing away the knife lest she hurt herself by mistake. A single scratch would mean her end, and she couldn't risk it.
She turned around when she heard the hooves of a horse approaching. What she saw was the loyal steed of Shadow, except that it looked subtly different. Its crimson eyes still shone menacingly, but in them, she saw a madness that couldn't come from anywhere but a nightmare creature.
"It's you. You are the source of these dreams," she said with complete confidence.
The black steed huffed, seemingly confused by her addressing it directly. Then, madness overtook its mind and it charged, horns first, ready to fight to the death.
It was fast —incredibly so— but the body she inhabited was that of a Saint. She sidestepped the charge with ease and delivered a kick to its side that sent it sprawling on the ground, the single blow alone enough to crush most of its bones.
Had she still been enthralled under the image of the Shadow Lady, she would have been horrified by her action, but she wasn't. The only thing she felt was contempt for the creature as she finished it off.
She thought it was over. The steed dead, the information gained. But the dream unfurled again. And again. And again.
Nephis dreamed of being burned at the stake. Of being eaten alive by a nightmare creature. Of drowning. Bleeding to death. Being thrown into the darkness of the Sky Below by her own mother. Of being turned into a doll, screaming endlessly yet unable to utter a single word as she loyally followed the every whim of a vengeful sorcerer. She dreamed of much more, of so much more.
The only similarity across the many lives she incarnated was that in every single one of them, she woke up and fought. For most of them it was fruitless—her incarnation far too weak to fight back, whether against the main danger of the dream or the horse itself.
She did not mind it. She did not falter. She did not doubt. No pain was too harrowing, no despair too much to bear, no situation dire enough to break her will. She was Changing Star, and she would not give up in the face of adversity—least of all against a nightmare creature.
She fought the steed across endless dreams, every death coming only after being wounded far past the point any other would have given up. For every death, she made the steed bleed, suffer, slowly but surely chipping away at its will. And it worked. The stygian steed was smart—she suspected it to be a Terror—and it was starting to fear her.
It stopped initiating fights. It hid in shadows. It forced her to hunt it.
And with every new life, she killed it more easily—even in bodies that should never have stood a chance.
Which led to now.
She was inhabiting the body of a knight—brave but weak. The lady she was meant to protect was already dead. It pained her to fail, even if it wasn't real, but that wasn't important at the moment. What was important was finishing this.
She limped toward the dying steed, clutching tightly the shattered remains of a sword with broken fingers. Her every breath was like fire, burning through her throat and lungs. The broken fragments of her armor bit into her skin with every movement, bringing another dose of fresh pain. Blood flowed out of her like a broken dam. It did not deter her; she did not let a single hint of the pain she was feeling show.
She tolerated far worse from her flaw on a daily basis.
The steed, on the other hand, didn't seem as capable of handling pain. His eyes were still burning with hatred, but now, what could be recognized as fear was unmistakably there. He had faced her countless times, and among those countless times, he had seen no sign of surrender, no sign of weakness—she didn't even show any trace of pain he could cling to. The creature had started as the hunter, but now, it was prey to her, trapped in this nightmare just as much as she was.
The shattered sword pierced its eye, and she saw a strange light coming over the other. She recognized it: it was the eye of a cornered animal, one ready to make a last-ditch attempt before it died.
The world changed, and just as fast as it started, it ended. Despair took hold of her heart upon seeing the scene unfurl before her.
She was in a building that was actively crumbling, stones falling around them with thunderous impacts. The walls were made of some sort of red stone that evoked fear in her at the mere sight. It was dark, only illuminated by small rays of light coming from the floor beneath and the flames covering her own body. And in front of her there was a man—one she recognized very well.
"Are you ready, Sunny?" she heard herself ask, her voice cold and indifferent.
He hesitated, thinking, hurting, before offering a crooked attempt of a smile.
"I'm not. What about you?"
No. Not this. Not again.
"I am."
She rallied her will, strained as hard as she could against the control of the dream, the edges of it fraying against her resistance, but her body did not stop, the steed exerting all of its might to stop her from taking control. Despite how hard she resisted, they still engaged in battle, every clash of their blades drawing a mournful cry out of her very soul.
She watched in despair as the fight developed the same way it had, and before she even realized it, they had already reached the turning point. His tachi was already striking toward her chest, aiming to end the battle. It would, just not in the way he expected.
"Lost from—"
It was just as she was about to utter those accursed words—words that would lead to the biggest mistake of her life, that the nightmare broke, shattering like glass. The black horse had been unable to break her through the lives of others, so he attempted to do it through hers, making her relive her biggest moment of despair. Only to have his plan backfire in the worst way possible.
It was her biggest moment of despair, yes, but it was also the one that reinforced her will the most.
She had betrayed the man she loved for the sake of her objective. To surrender now —or anytime— no matter the motive, was something she couldn't, she wouldn't, do. Never again. She had promised herself so, and she wouldn't go back on her word.
The dream shattered around her, the world peeling away like the skin of an orange, the Crimson Spire dissolving like smoke, growing fuzzy around the edges until everything started looking like blotches of color mashed together. The dissolution was quick, but not quick enough to miss the horrified stare that Sunny had given her. She steeled her heart. This was not the time to let emotion take over.
A few seconds later, she was back in the fortress, and by her side lay the stallion, his trembling body sprawled on the ground. He looked worn down, weak, broken and pitiful. Every breath was slow and painful. Madness and hatred still burned in his eyes, but eclipsing them both was fear.
She returned the stare blankly, her eyes as cold and deadly as steel. The [Cruel Sight] formed in her hand as she stepped closer. The horse tried to rise, to back away; when that failed, it made an attempt to attack with its horns, but even that was denied to him. The nightmarish beast had gambled everything on the last dream and failed. He made for a sad sight.
This time, she did feel a hint of pity for the creature. It didn't stop her from swinging the mirror blade and putting it out of its misery.
[You have slain an Awakened Shadow, Nightmare]
[Your soul shines brighter]
Nephis exhaled tiredly. Physically, she was fine, but mentally, she was exhausted. She wasn't sure how many lives she had lived within the dream, but it had been too many—the mental toll too hefty even for her.
[...You have received a Shadow.]
The mocking voice of the Spell finished speaking, its last announcement delayed as if unsure about delivering the words. She was glad to get something out of the fight—whatever receiving a Shadow actually meant—but right now, she wasn't in the mood for that.
The only thing she wanted now was to go to bed, maybe hug Sunny, and most important of all—
Punch Noctis in the face.