time passed by and hours went The air shuddered; the tiger's corpse flickered with ghostly light, fading into smoke. The threads wove faster around Noctis, wrapping him in spirals that reached skyward. His bones cracked, snapped back into place; torn flesh fused, bruises evaporated in the storm of brightness. The ground itself pulsed beneath him, answering the ancient power awakened from its long silence.
Then—sudden stillness. The threads intertwined into a single luminous symbol before collapsing into his chest, sinking beneath the scarred skin over his heart. Noctis fell forward, panting, the glow fading to a faint shimmer that lingered deep within his veins.
When he looked down, he saw faint strands of white and gold still flickering along his arm, and on his wrist—the star-shaped mark had changed, edged with black and gold lines that pulsed softly, like a second heartbeat.
His body trembled, smoke rising faintly from his skin. In the silence that followed, he touched the scar, whispering through cracked lips, "It... saved me."
Thunder rumbled somewhere beyond the forest, swallowing his voice. The air still shimmered faintly with dissolving strands of light. Noctis pushed himself to his knees, clutching the sword for balance, the mark still burning softly.
He looked down at the place where the tiger had fallen, now only dark earth and ash, and murmured hoarsely, "I said I wanted to live… and something heard me."
The threads had vanished, but the pulse within him remained—white and gold and black, weaving silently through his every breath, whispering that life itself had answered his call.
Noctis staggered, the afterglow of the threads still humming beneath his skin. Exhaustion finally overcame him—he collapsed to the forest floor, senses slipping into shadow. The pain faded; darkness surged in to claim him, heavy and consuming. He was drifting—floating far from the bruised world he called home.
Then, not silence, but sensation.
He jolted awake, breath caught between terror and wonder. All around was blackness, but not empty—alive with drifting sparks of pale blue, gold, white, and black. They twisted lazily, floating in slow-motion spirals through the endless void, illuminating Noctis in soft, shifting glimmers.
He blinked, reaching out with trembling fingers. Each movement felt drawn out, slowed as if time itself stretched apart. The sparks hovered at his touch, swirling closer and rippling away into infinity. The ground beneath him was absent, replaced by a weightless feeling, every breath echoing in a place with no walls, no sky—just boundless expanse.
Noctis tried to speak—his voice sounded distant, reverberating through the shimmering dark.
And gradually, the space began to change.
Colors seeped into the dark; the flying sparks multiplied, spinning into vibrant ribbons that dissolved into pure light. The blackness shifted, fractured by bursts of crimson, emerald, sapphire, and gold. Each color unfurled, painting the space with impossible landscapes—glittering rivers that flowed upside down, mountain ranges hovering mid-air, cities glimpsed in the distance, their towers shimmering with the pulse of living magic.
The world around him turned kaleidoscopic, fragments of reality bending and reforming with every flash—he was passing through layers of existence, each more brilliant and bewildering than the last.
He fell, flew, floated, and walked—each motion held in shimmering suspension. He saw realms of storm and silence, kingdoms made of crystal and shadow, forests knit from stardust and flame. Glimpses of unfamiliar worlds spun past: colossal statues carved from lightning, oceans suspended between burning moons, faces half-lost in dazzling light.
Noctis surrendered to the awe, heart pounding. All the pain and fear receded, swallowed by wonder as the universes unfurled before him. He realized he was traveling—not just leaving earth behind, but moving through the connection of all things, through dimensions and dreams, each thread a pathway, each spark a promise.
Suddenly, with a final rush, the motion accelerated—the flying lights coalesced, lifting him up, surrounding him in a cocoon of color and warmth. The last whispers of darkness fell away. Vision sharpened: the kaleidoscope stilled, the universe opened.
And Noctis, newly healed and impossibly changed, landed softly on soil not of his own world—a place where every breath felt fresh, every sight impossibly vivid.
He looked up. Above, the sky spiraled with unfamiliar constellations, the air alive with potential.
Noctis whispered, "I'm not home. But I'm alive."
The adventure had truly begun.