(Noctis's POV )
The whisper hits me like a blade.
Not because it's loud.
Not because it's close.
But because it is a voice I buried centuries ago.
A voice I held as it broke.
A voice I heard as Elior died in my arms.
A voice I swore I would never hear again.
"Elior…"
My body moves before thought.
Shadows surge from my spine, curling around Elior's legs, pulling him back toward me. Rowan steps in front of him, fire flaring. Sylas's resonance spikes so sharply it rattles the air. Aeris's breath stutters. Elias's eyes go white.
But I—
I go still.
Completely still.
Because I know that voice.
I know it the way I know my own heartbeat.
The First Guardian.
Or what's left of him.
The grief‑born echo.
The wound given shape.
The half of him that shattered when Elior died the first time.
The part of him that loved Elior so much it broke the world.
The part of him that became a monster.
The part of him that became me.
"Stay behind me," Rowan says, voice steady but tight.
Elior doesn't argue.
Good.
He's learned.
Sylas steps to Rowan's left, shadows rising like a second shield. Aeris moves to Elior's right, breath‑magic shimmering around him like a soft glow. Elias stands slightly behind, hands trembling as threads of prophecy coil around his fingers.
And I—
I step forward.
Because this is mine.
My past.
My failure.
My grief.
My burden.
My friend.
The air thickens, heavy with old magic. The trees bend inward, as if listening. The ground hums beneath my feet.
Then the voice comes again.
Closer.
"Elior… don't die again…"
My chest cracks open.
Not literally.
Not magically.
Emotionally.
Because I remember that moment.
I remember Elior's blood on my hands.
I remember his breath fading.
I remember his confession.
I remember the way he looked at me — not afraid, not angry, but soft.
Soft.
And then gone.
"Show yourself," I say, my voice low, steady, ancient.
The shadows ripple.
A shape forms between the trees.
Tall.
Broad‑shouldered.
Barefoot.
Hair tangled like roots.
Eyes glowing with a grief so deep it looks like moonlight drowned in ink.
He looks like the First Guardian.
He looks like the man I once fought beside.
The man I once trusted.
The man who died inside the moment Elior did.
But he is not him.
He is the wound.
He is the grief.
He is the part of the First Guardian that couldn't die.
He steps forward, and the grove shivers.
Rowan's fire flares.
Sylas's shadows coil.
Aeris's breath‑magic sharpens.
Elias gasps as visions slam into him.
And Elior—
Elior grips Rowan's sleeve, eyes wide, breath trembling.
The grief‑born Guardian sees him.
And something inside him breaks.
"Elior…" he whispers, voice cracking. "You're alive."
His grief is so raw it feels like a physical force.
I step between them.
His eyes snap to me.
Recognition.
Pain.
Rage.
Love twisted into something unrecognizable.
"You," he breathes. "You let him die."
The words hit harder than any blade.
Rowan growls. "He didn't—"
I lift a hand.
Silence.
Because the grief‑born Guardian isn't wrong.
I did let Elior die.
I wasn't strong enough.
I wasn't fast enough.
I wasn't enough.
And I have lived with that truth for lifetimes.
But I will not let it happen again.
"I won't lose him," I say quietly. "Not this time."
The grief‑born Guardian's face contorts — grief, fury, desperation all tangled together.
"You can't protect him," he says. "None of you can. I tried. I failed. And he died."
His voice breaks.
"He died."
Elior steps forward before anyone can stop him.
"Please," he whispers. "Don't—"
The grief‑born Guardian reaches for him.
Rowan grabs Elior's arm.
Sylas's shadows lash out.
Aeris's breath‑magic flares.
Elias cries out as visions explode behind his eyes.
And I—
I move.
Shadows surge from my spine, slamming into the grief‑born Guardian, forcing him back.
He stumbles, eyes wide, hurt flashing across his face like a wound reopening.
"You're taking him from me again," he whispers.
"No," I say, stepping between them. "I'm keeping him alive."
The grief‑born Guardian's expression twists.
"You can't."
He lunges.
Rowan's fire erupts.
Sylas's shadows strike.
Aeris pulls Elior back.
Elias screams as visions tear through him.
And I—
I meet the grief head‑on.
Shadow against shadow.
Memory against memory.
Love against love.
The impact shakes the grove.
The world tilts.
And for a heartbeat, I see him.
Not the monster.
Not the echo.
Not the grief.
The First Guardian.
The man he used to be.
The man who loved Elior first.
The man who loved him wrong.
Then the moment shatters.
The grief‑born Guardian disappears into the trees, leaving the grove trembling in his wake.
Silence falls.
Rowan pulls Elior close.
Sylas's resonance wraps around him.
Aeris steadies his breathing.
Elias collapses to his knees, shaking.
And I—
I stand alone.
Because I know what comes next.
He will return.
He will not stop.
He cannot stop.
And this time…
I will not fail.