After cooking a simple meal, Noctis sat down to eat, the food providing a brief distraction from the incomprehensible whispers and murmurs that lingered at the back of his mind. The voices were faint but persistent, like the distant hum of a forgotten melody. He finished his meal in silence, the taste barely registering as he tried to ignore the growing unease within him.
Once done, he made his way to the apartment's washroom to clean up. The room was small but functional, with a water basin and a faucet that provided running water—a luxury in the otherwise modest apartment. He splashed cold water on his face, the chill helping to ground him, if only for a moment. After drying off, he changed into a fresh white linen shirt and dark colored trousers, the fabric was crisp and clean against his skin.
Returning to his room, Noctis found himself with nothing to distract himself from the murmurs that seemed to grow louder in the quiet of the night. The voices were a cacophony of whispers, each one just out of reach, as if they were speaking in a language he couldn't quite understand. He sat in the armchair near the mirror, his gaze fixed on his reflection, though his mind was elsewhere.
"I don't even know where to begin," Noctis thought, his fingers gripping the armrests tightly. "Nor do I know where that diviner is."
He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the voices, to make sense of the chaos in his mind. But the harder he focused, the more his temples throbbed, the pain sharp and unrelenting.
The room seemed to grow darker, the shadows deepening as if the world itself was losing its color. The moonlight streaming through the window became more pronounced, its silvery glow is almost ethereal in the gloom.
Despite the pain and the disorienting whispers, Noctis couldn't help but admire the beauty of the moonlight. "Ah, Harbinger of Night," he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if speaking to the moonlight itself. The words felt strange on his tongue, yet they carried a weight that resonated to something deep within him.
As he sat there, a strange sensation washed over him—a gentle tug at his consciousness, like an invisible hand guiding him toward sleep. His eyelids grew heavy, and though he fought to stay awake, the pull was too strong. His expression softened, becoming uncannily calm, as if he had found a fleeting moment of peace amidst the chaos.
Noctis lost consciousness in the armchair, his body slumping slightly as the whispers faded into the background. The moonlight bathed the room in its soft glow, casting long shadows that seemed to watch over him as he slept.
When Noctis opened his eyes, he found himself once again in the dark, ancient hall, seated on the same slightly elevated tall chair. The air was thick with snow-like mist that clung to the onyx-black stones, giving the hall an ethereal, glacial aura. Though his porcelain doll-like body felt no cold, the atmosphere itself seemed to hum with an ancient, unearthly chill.
The cracks in his porcelain puppet like form remained, delicate yet ominous, and his dark hair—longer here than in reality—framed an unfeeling beautiful face that glowed faintly as if trying to match the color of the moonlight in the cracks. His dark elegant tunic matched with a ragged robe, it was as if woven from the shadows, blended seamlessly into the hall's oppressive onxy grandeur.
Noctis could swear the onyx stones of the hall pulsed faintly for a moment, as though alive, drinking in the pale moonlight that seeped through cracks in the ceiling. The mist hung motionless, like a frozen breath, and the air thrummed with a presence that felt neither human nor divine.
"This place… it's not made by humans," Noctis thought, his hollow eyes scanning the room. The stones themselves seemed like they whisper secrets in a language he couldn't understand.
"I can feel it clearer now," he murmured, his voice echoing unnaturally. "The connection to this place…"
***
The Cathedral of Selene, An Hour Earlier...
Beneath the shadow of the cathedral's towering spires, two figures lurked in the cover of nearby trees. Lumian, his dark blue hair tousled by the wind, leaned casually against a trunk, while Vera stood beside him, her crimson eyes glinting with skepticism.
"Didn't we wait long enough?" Vera whispered dryly, "Lumian, This is absurd."
Lumian smirked, adjusting the collar of his coat. "Patience, Vera. Midnight's almost here. Let's see if that relic really shows up."
"You can't seriously believe some ancient relic will just show up here," she hissed, her voice sharp but low.
"Of course I do," Lumian said, his tone playful. Then, after a pause, he added, "Well, actually… the informant... doesn't exist."
Vera whirled to face him, her crimson eyes narrowing. "What?!"
"Shh!" Lumian pressed a finger to his lips, glancing around. He continued. "Last week, I was at the Cough, tavern—you know, where people trade 'errands' under the table. Overheard two robed figures whispering. Couldn't see their faces, but their conversation…" He trailed off, grinning.
"Was this before or after you drank half the bar dry?" Vera muttered.
"It was an accidental eavesdrop, believe me" Lumian said with a chuckle, ignoring her jab. "The place was loud, but I caught pieces: 'relic', 'order', 'Selene', 'before midnight.' Sounded like a puzzle to me so here we are."
Vera pinched the bridge of her nose. "So you concocted this whole plan… based on fragments of a conversation? From strangers?"
Lumian shrugged. "Juiciest lead we've had in weeks. Besides, if it's a phony, we'll just steal whatever's waiting for us in the future instead."
Vera sighed, "You're insufferable."
Lumian smiled.
"So much for the renowned phantom thieves," Vera muttered, her voice sharp with sarcasm as she glared at Lumian.
"I'll take that as a compliment. It's Fortune Seeking, by the way," Lumian shot back with a smile.
"Yeah, yeah, sure." Vera rolled her eyes, surrendering to his antics.
"Wait—duck." Lumian's playful tone vanished. He pointed. "Look."
Vera followed his gaze. Three robed figures lurked near the cathedral's shadowed side entrance, their dark garments blending into the night like ink on parchment. "Those aren't the church's clergy," she whispered, her crimson eyes narrowing.
"Right." Lumian's demeanor shifted, his voice calm and calculating. "Let's follow these rats."
Vera nodded. Silently, they closed the distance, their movements swift. The robed figures drifted through the shadows, their steps soundless as they slipped through the night.
Dozens of minutes passed before the trio halted at a dark iron gate leading into a cemetery. "Are we even following the right people?" Vera hissed, her crimson eyes narrowing.
"It's them," Lumian said calmly. "Their robes is similar to the ones from the tavern. Wait."
The figures vaulted the fence, vanishing into the graveyard. Lumian and Vera followed, scaling the barrier and landing soundlessly on the damp earth.
Crouching behind a gnarled oak, they watched the robed trio approach a weathered mausoleum. Instead of entering, they veered left toward a skeletal tree, its branches clawing at the dark sky.
"Shall we circle closer?" Lumian mouthed. Vera nodded.
They edged nearer, hiding at the back of the weathered mausoleum. The robed figures stood in unnerving silence—two watching as the third dug a shallow pit in the dirt.
"It's done," the third man rasped, his voice like gravel.
"Bury the relic," the second figure spoke.
As they concealed the object, the third figure spoke, his voice laced with authority. "The Imperial Court's eyes will fixate on Aurelius Capital for a week. Hide the scrolls for the client. Fail, and we are done for."
"Wouldn't the seekers of the Imperial Court track this relic?" the person who dug asked hesitantly.
"Idiot." The person that Lumian and Vera assumed to be the leader spoke with disdain. "If this 'relic' was that easily found, the Court wouldn't be scouring the whole damn continent, would they? Speak no more foolishness."
"What's even in that paper?" the third figure asked, his voice hesitant and low.
"A honorific name," The second figure replied, his tone flat.
"A name...?" The third figure questioned
"This isn't a relic," the first figure said sharply, his voice cutting through the cold night air. "Some may be relics tied to ancient powerful figures might hold mystical power, but this? This thing is tied to an irregularity. We mundane humans does not have any reason to meddle in seeker's business, but fetching errands without knowing what you're dealing with will get you killed. This parchment's content is probably related to an entity's power or at least an ancient powerful being... We mundane humans should stay far away from anything related to those freaks."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the digger and the second figure. "We're done here."
The three robed figures dashed into different directions.