Opening his eyes to a familiar and unfamiliar sight, both paradoxically in some way true.
He stared into the starlit sky. His pupils, usualy as black as the all-consuming abyss, showed little of their true selves today, just as the sky showed little of the stars it so usualy hid within.
Instead of the all-consuming dark abyss within each pupil, and the constellations of blue and purplish stars, an ocean of gold was reflected in each of them, alike granted not a crevice of sparing darkness.
It was blinding.
From afar, this place looked like a ginormous tree, made of liquid gold or something even brighter and purer, its brilliant luster hiding all its nuances as it illuminated the cold, desolate lands of the realm governing space, overseen by the singular eye in the sky.
The black hole that oversaw all.
The golden structure could be described as the world tree from the books. Its vast branches and roots dwarfed plant life, mountains, and rivers alike.
From a distance, this had been truly otherworldly, and it had drawn his gaze many times. However, it had somehow always felt so familiar. Perhaps its incorporeal brethren had always accompanied him.
Now that he was in the center of it all, this feeling had only intensified.
He stared into the sky, motionless, his body unmoving, surrounded and embraced by the same golden strings he watched in that moment. Still, now they were closer, and he was closer to them, no longer cluttering and melding into a greater whole, as he had seen from a distance.
They were thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions even: strings, an unending, slowly unraveling large cord, cut at its base, mirroring the image of a tree ripped out with all its roots.
Slowly swaying his head to the side, the comfortable silk below gently brushing against his ear, Noctis's eyes began to trace a string as it rose beside his face. First thin and alone, then as it climbed up, ascending bit by bit, meeting more of its kind, intertwining in loose and other times tight bonds, until it was lost in the mass.
Having lost his target of attention, Noctis's gaze did not stop as it traveled further up the colonies of threads, wandering further and further, seemingly with no end to their rise.
At some point, he believed he had found that same thread that had originated beside him. He had no reason or logical justification that it was the thread, but he knew it. He felt it.
That singular string disappeared and reappeared, in the mass sometimes for mere meters of string, others for larger distances.
When Noctis's gaze began to blur under the strain of this sight, a tear having begun its journey down the contours of his face.
Just as the thread reached the endpoint of all strings, the little companion of his, like the others, disappeared into the nothingness.
Right through a broken window, like a fissure in reality. The one they had entered through originally. The strings that had illuminated the lands before, their unobstructed, unoposed golden luster washing over creatures, humans, and landscapes all alike, gave not even the slightest glimmer beyond the veil.
It seemed suppressed, captured, or even consumed fully by whatever lay beyond the vail.
Well, the last seemed most likely. After all, Noctis was well aware of the nature of this world and what people and beasts were capable of doing for some nourishment.
Taking a passing glance through the string-covered surroundings. Little had changed.
The string still stood steady behind him. Its base had unraveled a bit more over the past few days, but in the grand scheme of things it was insignificant. The surroundings looked like a forest of sorts, each tree golden and thin like a needle, some more entwined than others, creating a myriad of patterns, all of them angled inwards slightly, as if trying to return to their source.
To Noctis, it looked like they were all desperately begging to come back; the farther they grew from the forest of thread, the more desperate their pleading, until they angled more downward than into the sky, where their gole lay.
Colliding and covering the floor to conceal and create a silken layer until just a few steps beyond Noctis' motionless body, the stone and dirt could no longer be seen, its luster less vibrent then before.
In front, there lay the tar-like sea of nothingness.
It had receded a bit after the clash with the realm, but it would probably regain its former size in time, as long as the rift didn't close.
Its surface seemed a bit restless aswell. Throughout the sea, an almost invisible vibration reverberated, minuscule droplets rising before splashing down again.
The Formless probably wasn't happy with the state of affairs.
While enjoying the misfortune of the hateful bird, Noctis took another look at his immediate surroundings: the silk he was lying on that had at some point wrapped around his arms and body, a bloody wound in his stomach area, the cold, piercing pain still biting into him. A few of the golden strings had chunks missing from them.
He stared at the bright scene for a while longer, lost in thought until his eyes could no longer take it.
In the end, giving in to his instincts, Noctis closed his eyes and finally let out a deep sigh.
He had become a victim of hunger quite recently as aswell.
But how recently?
Freeing an arm from threads, they did not resist in the slightest, nor did they harm him. He began rubbing his forehead and wiping away tears at the same time, putting an extra layer between his eyes and the mass of fated strings around him.
"Their luster has dimmed." He muttered in a detached way, neither to him nor to Ouroboros, who presided within his soul. It was a simple observation. Because if the thread had the same luster it held when he first saw it, his eyes would have melted and bled out of their sockets by now.
Speaking up again, this time a bit more loudly.
"How long have I been sleeping?"
'Around four days.' The answer came quickly, with a certain somberness, as it rang through his mind.
Four days? That had been longer than expected.
How far along was the realm's rejection? How long could he stay here?
Noctis wasn't sure, but he knew ruminating on it was pointless.
Feeling the built-up heat in his eyes recede, Noctis slowly reopened them as he relaxedly stood up.
He probably should have been in more of a hurry, yet somehow he was quite well adjusted at this moment, at least for his abysmal standards.
It was probably the result of not starving himself for weeks or months. It was difficult to tell without a watch or any indicator when day ended and night began.
Well, at least he had gotten what he originally came for. Food.
And it was already showing its effects. His body was regaining strength, and more importantly, the wound that would have killed him before was healing slowly.
The question was, what should he do now?
A certain emptiness rose at the thought.
What was he to do now?
Follow the bastards' trail and hunt him down, only to end up half-starved along the way?
Not to speak of the strength he lacked.
Or maybe he should first think of one of the immediate problems. How should he get off this island of threads, surrounded by a sea of liquid void?
At the very least, it seemed the void wasn't focused on chomping down on this thread ripped from the tapestry of fate. Noctis did observe that the thread in direct contact with the black sludge was slowly darkening until it fully liquified, but at the pace it was going, it would take months to become a real problem.
It seemed the formless, or whatever controlled the mass of black sludge, had enough brains to at least realize that the giant thread was the thing stopping the rift in the barrier from closing.
Thinking for a while, Noctis's eyes mostly closed to lessen the burden of the surrounding sights.
It was truly getting annoying. This was just like in his early days of using the ability, half-lobotomizing himself with every peek he dared to take.
Eventually, growing thoughtful and listening to Ouroboros' suggestions from time to time, Noctis crouched down, gently stroked one of the purely golden threads, and suddenly ripped it from the larger tapestry. It did not resist, or it could not. He didn't care either way.
He looked at it, helplessly flowing in his hand, as its swaying movements lessened, its golden light slowly dimming with time.
Eventually, he let go of the separated thread. It fell to the floor until it eventually connected back with the others, its glimmer reigniting.
Noctis watched it all, no sound escaping his mouth, but his expression showed clear dissatisfaction, or anger even.
Until he finally spat out.
"Shit."
Leaving had just become less of an option.
He couldn't even take a bit of food with him for the way. It was truly laughable. He had no way to get proper food to sustain his Authority, barely sustaining himself on suboptimal sources, and now that he had found what he needed, he couldn't even take any of it with him.
From the looks of it, the thread would lose its energy when cut off from the greater tapestry bit by bit, and after a few days it would become useless normal thread. Probably no different from the ones he himself created.
He could have guessed the outcome: parts of the ginormous string had lost some of their brightness after all. It had clearly been completely severed from the true tapestry of fate, its luster only holding this long because of the string's ginormous size and Notium capacity.
The situation was not good.
What could have even woven such a thing?
Grumbling for a while longer, Noctis eventually decided to explore this place some more. Now that he had the energy to spare, he probably should use it before making any decisions.
Taking a few steps forward, Noctis stopped in his tracks rather quickly, as he looked downward, in confusion.
"Why are they wrapping around me?"
Noctis had found himself quickly constricted in dozens of threads. It wouldn't be difficult to free himself, but this was going to get annoying…
He had gotten so used to the ever-present, elusive threads of gold that he walked straight into them without even thinking he could collide with these particular strings, unlike the almost identical ones he usualy saw.
Wanting to slap himself for his foolish behavior, however, he was stopped, as both his arms were currently rather entangled, unable to move from their current positions to his face.
'I think you should explore the outer reaches first…' A somehow compassionate but at the same time extremely enraging voice rang through his mind, as he felt the desire to slap someone again. This time not himself, but that enraging fellow Ouroboros.
Taking a few deep breaths, Noctis let his nerves cool down.
He let a single thread drip down his index finger until it reached two meters in length. When the growth stopped, the finger made an almost imperceptible movement, almost too fast for the eye to track.
It was a circle.
The next moment, Noctis fell to the ground, every thread clinging to him cleanly cut, his feet meeting the ground stably. Before fully regaining his composure, however, Noctis shuddered and fell to a knee, his vision blurring for just a breath.
***
For just a moment, the golden vista was gone, replaced by marble and stone. The other disciples and I were standing in two rows as the prophecy was being transcribed, myzeled into a stone plate, by an elderly man with a hunched back.
His ears were perking up at every word of a blond girl with her two eyes hidden behind a white blindfold.
Next to me, my brother stood with a slight tremble in his hand. He clearly was nervous.
Taking his hand, I gave him a light smile of reassurance, tilting my head to the side.
Suddenly, a muffled stabbing pain ran through my body.
A gold-decorated silver ritual dagger was lodged into my bosom straight through the hearth.
Nodding in satisfaction one last time, I fell forward onto my knees.
My eyes landed on the Oracle one last time. She was saying something with renewed fervor, as the chiseler started to hurry his pace.
With a last glance at the thing that would come of my sacrifice, my head tilted back as I felt the dagger be pulled out of my chest and placed at my throat.
A warm liquid ran down my stomach as the Oracle's beautiful voice gradually grew distant.
The world grew dark…
The image of a hand blotted out my sight…
***
"Argh!"
Noctis sat on his knees, his head tilted back, his eyes and mouth wide open.
After staying motionless in that position for a while, deep, labored breaths escaping his sweat-covered body, Noctis slowly closed his eyes and mouth as he stood up.
He took another look at his surroundings, a certain disgust written on his face.
These strings functioned like the ones he usualy saw. No, they were worse… At least he needed to will his threads to make contact with the non-physical strings, but these physical ones did not even need that.
They just sent him into a vision the moment his symbolism made contact.
"Urgh… what was that?" Shuddering one last time. Being in another's head was just an all-around unpleasant experience.
Worse, even his most reliable tool and his most comfortable fighting style had just become useless!
With that, his symbolism became more of a hazard than a tool.
Letting out a sigh. Noctis followed Ouroboros' advice, walking around the island of thread instead of directly going for its hearth.
Either way, he needed a quick reprieve from reading the string.
Casually strolling about, Noctis saw not the slightest evidence of life. What else should he have expected?
After an hour, Noctis eventually tried his second attempt. This time he had learned his lesson and did not run ahead airheadily.
Not long after entering the fated forest, he heard something out of the norm.
"Klang"
"Klong"
"Kling"
Metal clashing?
Walking slowly, following the sound, a headache began to brew as the metal scraping grew louder by the moment.
Suddenly, Noctis paled, his ever-wandering gaze fixed on a single point.
"H-human?" Noctis stuttered out the single word that came to mind, as he froze in place.
There was no doubt about it.
There couldn't be a doubt about it.
A human in full metal armor that hid every inch of skin, each movement making a rattling sound. But the figure was humane.
Noctis could even identify the style of armor, though it was buried in distant memory.
"A Samurai?" He muttered once more.
Suddenly, with a loud metal sound, the helmet turned toward Noctis, its demon-like mask revealing only two dark eyeholes, hiding what lay behind.
Before Noctis could utter his first greeting to a human, which he had longed for for so long, he suddenly lifted a long, slender sword. It was an Odachi, if his memory didn't betray him.
And pointed it towards him.