The bazaar of Rabanastre still buzzed as the sun dropped lower, the air thick with voices and the smell of roasting meat. But for Clive and Lunafreya, the crowd blurred into the background. Their trinkets had pulsed together, and now, standing face to face, there was no mistaking it.
"You're… Lunafreya, aren't you?" Clive finally said, voice low, almost reverent.
She inclined her head gently. "And you are Clive Rosfield." Her eyes softened as though she had known his name long before this moment. "Sirius guided me here, as he must have guided you."
Clive nodded slowly. "Aye. Dragged me away from dying. Told me destiny wasn't the only road. Hard thing to believe when your life has been nothing but loss."
Their words hung between them. Around them, bangaa merchants shouted over prices, a viera child darted past carrying fruit, and hume soldiers marched by, armor clanking. Luna's gaze followed it all, wonder flickering in her eyes.
"This city…" she whispered. "It holds so many kinds of people. All living together." Her lips curved faintly. "In Tenebrae, I was taught such diversity was only found in books. Here it breathes."
Clive noticed her awe and offered what Sirius had once told him through Reks. "That one with the scales? A bangaa. The long ears? Viera. There are moogles too — though I'll admit the ones here are… bigger than I expected." His mouth twitched, just short of a smile.
"Moogles," Luna repeated, as if tasting the word. "Truly remarkable."
Clive cleared his throat. "Come. Let's talk somewhere quieter. Too many eyes here."
He led her across the plaza to a tavern tucked against the sandstone wall. Its first floor bustled with laughter and spilled ale, but the second floor held quieter booths where mercenaries planned contracts. They found a corner seat, the wood worn smooth by years of elbows.
For a while, they said nothing, simply letting the noise below cover them. Then Luna broke the silence, her voice soft but sharp with memory. "When I arrived… I heard you whisper a name. Jill."
Clive's shoulders tensed. He lowered his gaze, then exhaled a heavy sigh. "I did."
Luna tilted her head slightly. "Who is she?"
Clive's hand drifted toward the trinket at his chest, as though the small charm might give him permission to speak. His voice came low, roughened by memory. "She's… Jill Warrick. My dearest friend. More than that. She was part of my home, part of my family — even when bloodlines said otherwise. I swore to protect her, to keep her safe. And yet—" He clenched his fists. "I failed. Again and again. That's all I seem to do — fail the people I love."
Luna's eyes softened. She did not interrupt, only listened.
Clive continued, bitterness scraping his words. "I watched my kingdom burn. I watched my brother die. I watched comrades give their lives while I carried on, dragging their burdens like chains. Every death, every failure — it all comes back to me. And I can't forgive myself for it."
The tavern floor creaked below, muffling the sound of raucous laughter and spilling ale. Up here, however, the air was thick, heavy with the truth of grief.
Luna lowered her gaze, hands tightening around each other. "I understand more than you think."
Clive's eyes flicked up to her.
"I lost Tenebrae," Luna said simply. "I lost my king, my people, my family. Niflheim tore it all away, and with it, my chance to be just… a girl. But I was chosen, Clive. Chosen to be the Oracle. To be a bridge between gods and men. From that moment, I had no life that was my own. Everything I did, every word, every step was dictated by duty."
Her voice quivered faintly, though her composure remained. "But I accepted it. Because if I lingered on grief… if I held to what was taken from me… I would never be able to help those who needed me. I could not undo the past, but I could still give hope to others."
Clive scowled, his tone sharp. "And in the end, you died for it."
Luna blinked. The words stung, though she did not flinch. "Yes. That was my destiny. To give everything so the True King might rise."
Clive slammed his fist against the table, the mugs rattling. "That's exactly it! Destiny demanded your death. Just like it demanded mine. Just like it demands all of us to lay down our lives and smile while we do it. Don't you see? That isn't duty — it's slavery!"
For a moment, both fell silent. The lantern's flame swayed, shadows stretching across their faces.
Luna met his fury with serenity. "And yet you still chose to fight for your brother. For Jill. For your people. Was that not duty?"
"That was love," Clive shot back. His chest rose and fell sharply. "Duty asks you to serve without question. Love demands you fight even when you're broken. There's a difference."
Luna's lips curved in the faintest of smiles. "Perhaps. But do you not see? Love and duty need not be opposites. They can walk hand in hand. I loved my people. I loved Noctis. And that love gave meaning to my duty."
Clive looked away, teeth clenched.
The trinket at his chest flickered faintly with light, as though Sirius himself stirred in the shadows of their conversation. Neither spoke of it, but both felt the hum — a presence, a reminder that someone else listened.
Luna's voice grew softer, almost a whisper. "You called me Jill because your heart has been cut too many times. Because you are afraid of carrying more loss."
Clive's breath hitched. His hands shook slightly. "Every time I care for someone, I lose them. My mother, my brother, my father, my comrades, even—" He stopped, the words catching.
"And so you isolate yourself," Luna finished gently. "So that when the burden grows, you will not feel it crush another heart. But Clive, that isolation will destroy you long before any enemy does."
He stared at her, stunned into silence.
The trinket pulsed again, brighter this time.
From it came Sirius' voice, calm yet weighted. "Power shared is power multiplied. Alone, you will break. Together, you will endure."
Clive gritted his teeth. "Easy words from someone who doesn't have blood on his hands."
Sirius' voice did not falter. "I've watched countless die. I've pulled some back when destiny claimed them. I know more than you think."
The trinket dimmed again, leaving Clive and Luna to the quiet.
Luna leaned forward, her eyes firm. "Clive, you are more than a weapon. More than a Dominant. Your life matters too."
"And you," Clive said, voice cracking with rawness, "are more than the Oracle. You didn't deserve to be used and discarded by fate."
Their gazes met across the table — two souls tethered by different worlds, yet burdened by the same chains.
At last, Clive looked away, rubbing a hand over his face. "I can't accept destiny. Not like you. Not when it's taken so much."
Luna's expression softened, understanding but resolute. "Then perhaps it is not destiny you must accept, but choice. To live, to protect, to carry on not because you are told to — but because you decide to."
Clive's throat tightened. His heart felt as though it were being squeezed, pulled between the grief of the past and the fragile hope of something else.
For the first time in years, his voice broke, quieter, almost boyish. "What if I fail again?"
Luna reached out, her fingers brushing the edge of the table but not touching him. Her answer was simple. "Then you stand again. That is what it means to live."
The lantern between them flickered, its flame burning brighter as though echoing her words.
The silence that followed was not heavy this time, but lighter. A silence of reflection, not despair.
Clive leaned back, closing his eyes, letting the words sink in. For the first time since stepping into this new world, the chains on his shoulders felt… a little less crushing.
And the trinket at his chest pulsed once more, steady and warm, as though acknowledging the first crack in the wall he had built around himself.