The battle raged.
The desert had become a war zone, a battlefield of shattered rock and burning sand, as we fought to bring the golem down.
It had been hours now. Hours of dodging, striking, breaking pieces of it away—only for it to reform, to keep coming, to never stop.
Lucian's blade danced against stone, his every strike sending sparks flying as he tried to find a weak spot—but there wasn't one.
Gareth's magic had turned the sand to glass in places, the searing heat of his fire magic leaving cracks in the golem's body—but it kept moving.
Callen had stood his ground, shield raised, taking the brunt of its devastating swings, but even he was starting to falter. His breath heavy. His stance shaky.
And Alaria—Alaria had cut deep, her daggers sinking into the cracks, twisting, trying to pry apart the ancient joints of the beast. But no matter how many pieces she broke away—it reformed. Again. And again. And again.
Nothing we did was enough.
And I knew why.
Because I was holding back.
I could feel the Rift surging inside me, the way it clawed at the edges of my mind, whispering that it could end this.
That all I had to do was let go.
But I hesitated.
Because I knew the cost.
Every time I gave into it—I lost a little more of myself.
I gritted my teeth, my blade flashing through the air as I carved a Riftborn slash against the golem's arm, severing the stone in two. But the pieces just pulled back together, the molten light in its core flickering like a heartbeat that refused to die.
Elaris was panting, her hands glowing with light as she tried to heal Callen's wounds, sweat dripping from her temple as she fought against the exhaustion creeping into her limbs.
"We can't keep this up!" she gasped. "Noctis, we—we need more."
I clenched my fists.
I knew what she meant.
I knew what she was really asking.
But I couldn't.
Not yet.
Not again.
The golem roared, its massive fist swinging down toward us like a falling meteor.
"MOVE!"
We scattered.
Callen barely managed to roll away in time, Gareth throwing up a fire barrier just as the sand beneath us cracked apart.
Lucian cursed, dodging back. "This thing isn't even slowing down!"
Alaria, breathless, wiped blood from her lip. "I hate to say it, Noct, but you need to stop fighting like a damn human."
I tensed.
"Noctis!"
Elaris's voice cut through the chaos.
I turned—just as she grabbed my arm.
Her lavender eyes locked onto mine, but there was something… different.
Something I recognized.
And then—she whispered.
But it wasn't her voice now.
It was her voice from years ago.
When we first met.
Back when I was just another adventurer, still wide-eyed, still full of hope and purpose, still clinging to the idea that the world was something I could control.
Her voice, soft and warm, the way she had spoken to me when she first healed my wounds, when she first told me that I wasn't alone.
Her motherly voice, the one that made me feel like I was something worth protecting—something she had believed in long before I ever believed in myself.
"Noctis."
She tightened her grip.
"Let her take control."
My breath stopped.
Everything stopped.
Because she had never said those words before.
Because she had always been the one telling me to fight against it, to resist, to keep my humanity intact.
But now—she was telling me to let go.
And for the first time…
I wasn't sure if I could say no.
The moment I let go, the world fractured.
A pulse of something dark, something ancient shuddered through me, rattling through my bones, curling its cold fingers into the deepest parts of my soul.
And then—
I was no longer me.
My body still stood, my hands still clenched around the air, but I was no longer the one in control.
My vision split—the world shattered into layers of color and void, as if time and space themselves had been peeled back to reveal the raw, unfinished fabric of reality.
The Rift didn't hum through me anymore.
It screamed.
Elaris stepped back, her eyes widening in something between fear and awe, her lips parting as she saw the change take over.
Lucian gripped his sword, his knuckles white. "Gods…"
Alaria cursed under her breath. "Noctis?"
But it wasn't me anymore.
Veylara laughed.
And it came from my throat.
Deep, rich, sickeningly sweet—like honey laced with venom, like the echo of a song no mortal had ever heard.
"Oh, how long I have waited for this."
The sound slithered through the battlefield, weaving into the air itself, curling into the ears of everyone around us.
The golem—**the massive, towering construct that had been unshaken by everything we threw at it—**staggered.
Its molten golden eyes flickered.
It knew.
It recognized me.
Or rather—it recognized her.
"Ah, even now you tremble before me." Veylara sighed through my lips, tilting my head, rolling my shoulders as if trying on a new outfit. "How quaint. How mortal."
I could feel her amusement, her delight, the way she reveled in the way time itself seemed to hesitate in her presence.
Then, with a single step forward, the sand beneath me blackened.
Not burned.
Not scorched.
Erased.
The grains of golden sand ceased to exist, turning into a patch of swirling darkness, flickering with the echoes of a world that had never been.
Veylara raised my hand, curling my fingers as if plucking strings on an unseen instrument.
The golem took a step back.
It actually took a step back.
And that was when she smiled.
"Noctis has been playing far too gently with you." Her voice was silk, sliding through the cracks in the air. "But I—I do not play."
The Rift answered her call.
New power surged.
The air shattered like glass as she raised my hand, fingers spread, and suddenly—there were four of me.
Or rather, four shadows.
Each of them stepped forward, perfect reflections of my form, but their eyes were nothing but void.
They moved as I moved.
Or rather—they moved before I moved.
Faster than time.
The golem swung, its massive stone arm carving through the sky, but the shadows had already dissolved, flickering behind it, moving with an unnatural grace, untethered by time or physics or logic.
One of them flicked a wrist—and the golem's arm was no longer attached to its body.
There was no sound of impact.
No strike.
One moment the arm existed.
The next, it simply did not.
The massive construct stumbled, its molten core flickering violently, struggling to comprehend what had just happened.
Lucian took a sharp step back, his sword still raised but his expression unreadable. "What the hell is she doing?"
Gareth swallowed, his golden eyes locked onto me—onto her. "Something that… should not be possible."
Elaris wasn't looking at them.
She was still watching me.
Her fingers curled against her chest, her breath uneven.
"Noctis."
But I wasn't there.
Not anymore.
Veylara sighed, tilting my head again, staring at the golem as if it were an inconvenience.
"This is boring."
She lifted a single hand, palm up, and then—
She pulled.
The Rift responded.
The golem let out a deep, distorted roar, its entire form shuddering violently, chunks of stone ripping away from its body, twisting, unraveling as if being undone from reality itself.
It tried to resist.
But the Rift was hungry.
And it had waited too long to be fed.
The golem collapsed to its knees, its massive body cracking apart, its molten core dimmed, as if the very energy keeping it alive was being siphoned away into the abyss.
"There."
Veylara whispered through my lips, watching as the construct withered into nothing.
"You will sleep again."
Her voice wrapped around it, curling through the air like a lullaby, and then—
Silence.
The golem, this unbreakable thing that had fought us for hours, was gone.
Erased.
Like it had never existed at all.
Lucian exhaled sharply, lowering his sword. "…Shit."
Callen shook his head, his face pale. "I—I don't even—what the hell just happened?"
Gareth didn't answer.
Because they all knew.
Veylara stretched my arms, rolling my shoulders once more.
"That was hardly a challenge."
Her voice lingered in the air, seeping into the cracks of existence, commanding the silence around us.
Then, finally—
She turned.
And her darkened gaze landed on Elaris.
A slow, knowing smile curled my lips.
"Ah. Now tell me, dear Elaris… was this what you wanted?"
Elaris didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
She just stared, her lavender eyes wide, her lips parted as if she wanted to speak—but couldn't.
Veylara took a slow step toward her, using my body, wearing my face, but it wasn't me anymore.
I could feel it—the way my limbs weren't my own, the way the Rift curled and pulsed inside me like a living thing, ravenous and awake.
It had tasted freedom.
And it wasn't going back.
The others were still frozen, their weapons lowered, but their bodies tense.
Lucian wasn't smirking anymore.
Callen's grip on his shield was so tight his knuckles had gone white.
Gareth's hands were at his sides, ready to cast something—anything.
And Alaria—Alaria had gone dead silent.
Watching. Waiting.
But Elaris was the only one who stepped forward.
Her breath was uneven, but she did it anyway.
"Noctis."
Veylara laughed.
A slow, syrupy sound, sliding into the air like a blade dipped in honey.
"Noctis is sleeping, dear girl."
She lifted my hand, turning it over in the light, studying it with a curious amusement.
"Mm. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to hold flesh, to move in a body not yet ruined by time."
She curled my fingers into a fist.
"I should keep this."
Elaris flinched.
But then—her expression hardened.
And something inside me twisted.
Because for all the times Elaris had been gentle, all the times she had nursed wounds, whispered kindness, steadied me when I couldn't stand—
There was something else in her now.
Something furious.
"Give him back."
Veylara tilted my head. Smiled. Mocking.
"Oh? And if I don't?"
Elaris's hands fisted at her sides.
Her entire body trembled—but not with fear.
With rage.
"Give. Him. Back."
The Rift inside me shuddered, like a pulse of heat lashing through my veins.
Something pushed.
Fought.
Not her.
Me.
I wasn't gone.
I could feel myself stirring, my own hands twitching, my mind pushing against the weight of her control.
Veylara felt it too.
Her eyes flickered, her amusement thinning.
"Ah. There you are."
Her grip on me tightened.
The Rift pulled back.
Trying to bury me again.
Trying to keep me under.
But I was angry now.
Angry that she thought she could keep me caged.
Angry that she thought I was weak enough to just disappear.
And then—
Something snapped.
The Rift shuddered violently—and for the first time, Veylara staggered.
Her control slipped.
I could feel my own breath return, my own mind pushing through the fog, clawing my way back to the surface.
And then—she was screaming.
Not in fear.
In rage.
"No. No, no, no—you are MINE."
The Rift lashed out—a pulse of black energy, erasing the very air around me.
The desert quaked.
Reality shuddered.
And then—
The explosion never came.
The Rift seized inside me, black tendrils of unraveling space writhing, pulsing, hungry—
Then it stilled.
The heat, the weight of something cosmic and ancient pressing down on my bones, the way my body hadn't been mine just moments ago—
It all faded.
Like a hand had gently released its grip.
My breath returned.
My vision cleared.
And suddenly—
I was standing in my own body again.
But not alone.
Veylara was still there, still woven into my veins, still whispering in the quiet spaces between my thoughts.
Only now, she wasn't fighting me.
She was waiting.
Watching.
Letting me take back control.
The air was still, the battlefield eerily silent except for the faint crackling of the Rift energy still dissipating in the air.
Lucian, Callen, Gareth, and Alaria stood frozen, staring at me like they weren't sure if I was going to collapse or turn on them next.
Elaris was still in front of me, her breath heavy, her hands trembling slightly.
Her lavender eyes searched mine, looking for something—
Making sure it was me.
I swallowed, my fingers flexing, feeling the weight of my own limbs again. Testing myself.
Then, inside my own head, Veylara's voice coiled through my mind, smooth, syrupy, untouched by the tension still lingering in the air.
"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"
I exhaled sharply, my jaw tightening.
"You let me take control," she continued, purring, "and in return, I gave it back. Just as I promised."
Her tone was warm, almost teasing, as if she had done something kind, something generous, instead of forcing my body to the edge of oblivion.
"I could have kept it, Noctis. I could have made you disappear."
The words slid into my mind like silk, but there was something underneath them.
A quiet implication.
A reminder.
She could have kept me under.
She chose not to.
And she wanted me to remember that.
Elaris stepped forward, her voice tentative, careful. "Noctis?"
I forced myself to breathe, grounding myself, feeling everything return to me.
"Yeah," I muttered, my voice rough, hoarse from the sheer force of what had just happened.
Alaria narrowed her eyes. "Are we talking to you, or is she still in there?"
I turned my head, meeting her gaze.
"It's me."
Lucian's grip on his sword loosened slightly, but his shoulders stayed rigid. "You sure about that?"
I clenched my fists, testing the feel of my own skin, my own breath.
"Yeah," I said, firmer this time. "I'm sure."
The tension didn't fully break, but the others eased slightly, weapons lowering, muscles unclenching.
And then—
Veylara sighed inside my mind, sounding utterly content.
"Good. Now, wasn't that fun?"
I didn't answer.
She chuckled, her presence warm and weightless, settling into the shadows of my consciousness, not gone, but not pressing against me anymore either.
"You'll come to see, dear Noctis. You and I—we can do great things together. And unlike the gods who fear you, I will never take from you what is rightfully yours. You will always be in control."
She had given me my body back.
And she wanted me to trust her for it.
But I wasn't stupid.
I knew what she was doing.
She was waiting.
Waiting for the next time I would need her.
The next time I would break.
The next time I would be too weak to say no.
And when that moment came—
She would be there.
Smiling.
Ready.
"I'll see you soon, dear seraph."
And just like that—
She went quiet.
The Rift settled.
The air returned to normal.
And I—
I was left standing there, still catching my breath, still feeling the weight of my own flesh and blood, knowing that for the first time in my life…
I had just willingly given my soul to something else.
The weight of what had just happened still lingered.
The Rift was quiet now, but its presence was etched into the air, the sand beneath us blackened, the aftershocks of Veylara's control still humming through my veins.
The others were still catching their breath, still watching me with caution, unease, something close to fear—but there was something else now.
Something wrong.
Because someone was missing.
Lucian was the first to notice, his sharp eyes scanning the battlefield before his brows furrowed.
"Where the hell is Rowan?"
The realization hit all at once.
We all turned, scanning the dunes, the remnants of the shattered golem, the wreckage of our carriage.
But Rowan—Rowan wasn't there.
Alaria's eyes narrowed, her fingers twitching toward her daggers. "He was right next to us when the fight started. I swear I saw him."
Elaris took a cautious step forward, her gaze flicking over the dunes, the faint heatwaves rising in the distance. "Did he run?"
Lucian scoffed, shaking his head. "Rowan? Run? No way. If anything, he'd be watching from the shadows waiting for a good moment to—"
A sound.
A soft hum of laughter, just barely audible, drifting on the desert wind.
We all snapped toward it.
And there—standing atop a jagged rock formation just ahead of us—was Rowan.
But something was wrong.
He was standing too still, his arms loose at his sides, his head tilted just slightly, his usual calculating expression gone.
Callen frowned, gripping his shield. "Rowan?"
Rowan's lips curled, slow, deliberate—wrong.
A chill crawled up my spine.
Then, his body shuddered.
Cracked.
Broke apart at the seams.
And in an instant, he was gone.
In his place stood someone else.
A petite figure, delicate, small, her frame barely reaching my chest—but there was nothing fragile about her.
Long, silken black hair cascaded down her back, streaked with silver that shimmered like starlight, as if the night sky itself had been woven into her strands.
Her eyes, once Rowan's cold, unreadable stare, were now piercing gold, swirling with something vast, something that didn't belong to mortals.
Her face—soft, playful, utterly mischievous—tilted upward toward me, her smirk dripping with amusement.
"Well. That was fun."
My blood froze.
Elaris took a sharp step back, her breath hitching. "That's not Rowan."
Lucian's hand was already on his sword. "No shit."
Alaria's grip on her daggers tightened, but her usual confidence was gone. Instead, her emerald eyes flickered with something close to unease. "Who the hell are you?"
The girl—whatever she was—laughed.
A light, airy sound, something that should have been harmless—but wasn't.
Not at all.
She lifted her hands, rolling her wrists like she was stretching after a long nap. "Hmm. I suppose it's time I introduced myself."
Then, without warning—
She stepped off the rock.
And floated.
Not fell.
Floated.
She descended slowly, as if the air itself had bent to her will, as if gravity had simply decided it did not apply to her.
The moment her feet touched the sand, the air shifted—warped.
Like reality itself had to adjust to her presence.
The others had gone rigid, weapons still drawn, but she paid them no mind.
Her golden eyes locked onto mine.
And she smiled.
"You can call me… Velka."
The way she said it sent a strange pulse through me, like the name carried weight I wasn't ready to understand.
But before I could process it, she took a step closer.
Lucian moved instantly, stepping between us, his sword raised defensively. "Stay where you are."
She tilted her head, blinking at him. "Oh, relax, little knight. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have even drawn that sword in time."
Lucian's jaw tensed, but his grip didn't falter.
Velka ignored him, her gaze returning to me.
Her smirk deepened.
"Noctis."
Hearing her say my name sent a chill through me, like it wasn't just a name—like it was something she had been waiting to say for a long, long time.
I didn't move.
Didn't blink.
"…You knew?" I said slowly, keeping my voice even.
She let out a soft sigh, clasping her hands behind her back, rocking on her heels like a child full of mischief. "Of course I knew. I've been watching you for… oh, what feels like forever."
A beat of silence.
Then, she grinned.
"And I like you."
Something tightened in my chest.
Elaris's entire body went stiff. "What?"
Velka just laughed, her expression playful, but her eyes—her golden, star-swirling eyes—never wavered from mine.
"Oh, I like you quite a bit, Noctis."
She took another step forward, and for the first time since she appeared, I realized what was truly wrong.
It wasn't just the way she moved.
Or the way the air warped around her.
It was the feeling.
She wasn't just powerful.
She was beyond us.
Beyond anything mortal.
Beyond even the Rift.
She was something else entirely.
Elaris must have felt it too, because her voice lowered, trembling just slightly. "What… are you?"
Velka blinked, then smirked.
"A god."
The word hung in the air, heavy, suffocating, undeniable.
No one spoke.
No one breathed.
Even Lucian, who had never feared anything, looked like the realization had just knocked the wind out of him.
Gareth's eyes darkened. "That's… not possible."
Velka rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. I forget how slow you mortals are."
She turned back to me, studying my face, as if she were waiting for something.
And then, she sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her chest.
"I'd love to have my way with you, Noctis."
The words sent a strange heat through my body, something primal and dangerous, but before I could even react—
Her eyes narrowed slightly, her smirk softening.
"But… she's watching."
My breath hitched.
She wasn't talking about Elaris.
A flicker of something ancient and knowing passed through her expression before she sighed, stepping back.
"Ah, well. Not yet."
Then, before anyone could move—
She shot into the sky.
Not like a person.
Not like a bird.
Not even like a Riftborn being.
She ascended.
Like gravity had forgotten her existence.
Like the air itself had delivered her back to the heavens.
Like she was never meant to be here in the first place.
And then—
She was gone.
Leaving behind nothing but a whisper of laughter on the wind.