Shadow Slave

Sunny stared at the immortal sorcerer, stunned by those words. The scale and scope of the bloodshed and adversity Noctis was striving for were… were simply beyond comprehension. And yet, he had confessed this terrible desire with the same carefree, nonchalant, jovial attitude… as though he was indeed talking about brewing tea instead of waging war on four deathless Saints and their armies.

Sunny remembered the first time he saw Noctis… bloodied, crestfallen, sitting motionlessly in front of the fire with a diamond sickle laying at his feet, its blade marred with crimson.

A grim and somber thought formed in his mind all by itself:

"Insane… you are insane. All of you are…"

He flinched, then removed his trembling hand from the emerald amulet.

Noctis threw his head back and laughed, as if he heard the funniest joke in the world. The silent sailor dolls stood around him, motionless, staring into emptiness with their crudely carved eyes. The scene that was strange and fantastical a few moments ago suddenly seemed threatening and eerie.

After a while, the sorcerer grew quiet, then glanced at Sunny with a mischievous smile and asked:

"Yes, indeed. I could not have said it better myself. All of us are insane. But don't… don't you get it yet, Sunless? Don't you understand why?"

Sunny frowned, then shook his head.

'What the hell is he trying to say?'

How was he supposed to know why everyone in this damned Nightmare seemed completely mad…

And then, something moved in his mind. A seed of a thought… a nascent hint of understanding.

His pupils narrowed slightly.

Hope. He had first sensed it after escaping the Red Colosseum and facing Solvane, that beautiful and utterly

vague suspicion. Something seemed out of place, something didn't make sense. And after, when he had been thrust into the neverending nightmares, this feeling only grew stronger. He just had no time to

or virtue grew out of control until it turned into a

Pain, sorrow, tragedy... madness.

by this insidious strangeness. His single-minded obsession with learning how to weave, the sudden intensity of his affection toward Elyas, the subsequent crushing heartbreak over the young man's death, the unquenching hatred he had felt for the black steed… all of

the past few months,

'Wait… wait…'

to recall all he knew about this Nightmare. The seven knives, the seven immortals… a thousand years of solemn duty… the terrible torture one of the rules of the Ivory City

Before what?

shocked understanding appeared

looked at Noctis for a while, and then cautiously picked up the emerald amulet. A single

"Hope?"

the vast expanse of the shattered kingdom

"...Indeed. Hope."

from his face. A

of the Chain Lords. He entrusted each of us with the fate of another, and a

sorcerer remained silent for

found its way into our hearts. Eternity… eternity is a heavy burden, Sunless. And under its weight, unnoticed, one of us grew twisted. So, another one made a choice to uproot the corruption… that was how the first of the Chain Lords died. Aidre, my dear friend… murdered by that wicked slayer, Solvane, her beautiful grove burned to the

their fists, their fingers splintering from the immense pressure. Their crude faces did not move, but Sunny could feel an almost palpable feeling of fury radiating

The sorcerer sighed.

fates were sealed. Yes, six shackles still remained. But Hope's prison wasn't perfect anymore. Her will, her insidious influence sipped out, little by little, infecting us all… slowly devouring the whole kingdom, every living being in it, from the smallest insect to the mightiest immortal, igniting our desires, twisting them, changing us into something different.

He laughed.