The glow of Insomnia's skyline pressed against the window, cold and distant. Sirius Blake leaned against the sill, his small hands trembling as he stared out at the barrier that shimmered faintly around the city. The Crown City, ringed by a dome of light spun from the Crystal, looked more like a dream than a place of stone and steel. Yet it was real. The hum of its magic touched the night like a low heartbeat.
He had seen this skyline before—on a screen, in another life. There, it was pixels and light, a story to be played. But here, the streets breathed. The Citadel loomed like a mountain carved of glass and marble, its towers gleaming with veins of embedded crystal. Within those walls sat Regis Lucis Caelum, the King of Lucis. This was not a game. This was Eos.
Sirius drew a long breath and turned from the window. His room was small, warm, yet strange to his eyes now. The wooden floor bore scattered trinkets—a toy car, a stuffed wolf with one ear missing, a half-finished puzzle. They belonged to a child, but he was no ordinary child anymore.
What caught him now was the room itself. The walls curved in sleek lines, pale stone threaded with glass that pulsed faintly as if veins of light ran through them. Runes glimmered softly in the corners, sigils fused with circuitry, binding sorcery and technology into one seamless weave. The desk by the wall was carved of wood, but its surface shimmered with faint crystal inlays, channeling power to the lamp perched on top. Even the window's steel frame whispered Lucian craft—hardened by wards, the glass enchanted to resist daemon-sight.
It was futuristic, yet lived-in. Modern, yet mystical. Only Lucis could make such a home—where magic was not decoration but part of the architecture itself.
Sirius padded barefoot across the floor and reached for the wall switch. With a click, the lights awakened. Pale-white glow filled the room, casting back the shadows, humming faintly with magitek's touch.
For a moment, he simply stared, taking it all in. He had seen this before—concept art, imagined cities—but to breathe it, to feel the pulse of magic in every wall, was something else. The world of Eos wasn't science or fantasy. It was both, woven seamlessly, as natural as breath.
The notebook waited for him on the table, blank and patient. His mother had given it to him for letters and doodles, but tonight, it would become something else—his anchor.
He pulled out the chair and sat, his small body swallowed by the wooden seat. His fingers shook as he opened the notebook and gripped the pencil. His handwriting was crooked, oversized, the scrawl of a five-year-old—but behind it moved the weight of another life.
The first words were written slowly, painfully, as though each stroke pulled at memory itself.
Notebook – Don't Forget
The World
Lucis → My home. King Regis rules. Crystal barrier protects Insomnia.
Niflheim → Empire of Magitek. Harsh north. Enemy.
Tenebrae → Land of Oracles. Luna's home. Occupied.
Accordo → Altissia. Canals. Neutral, political.
Regions → Leide (desert), Duscae (plains, lakes), Cleigne (volcanoes, forests).
Astrals / Gods
Titan → Meteor, Disc of Cauthess.
Ramuh → Old man of thunder, shrine in Duscae.
Leviathan → Sea goddess, Altissia temple.
Shiva → Ice queen, frozen north.
Bahamut → Dragon King, tied to the Crystal.
People
Regis → Good king. Doomed.
Noctis → Crown prince. Younger than me. Chosen king.
Ignis → Advisor. Clever. Calm.
Gladio → Shield. Loyal. Unbreakable.
Prompto → Gunner. Cheerful.
Lunafreya → Oracle. Dies.
Ravus → Bitter brother.
Aranea → Dragoon mercenary. Later ally.
Ardyn Izunia → Chancellor. Villain. Immortal. The worst.
Daemons & Monsters
Sabertusks, goblins, scorpions → early threats.
Coeurls, Flans, Iron Giants → dangerous.
Daemons appear at night. Weak to light.
Empire soldiers → Magitek, infused with daemon essence.
The War
Niflheim expands.
Treaty = trap.
Insomnia falls. Regis dies. Crystal stolen.
The Storyline
Noctis leaves with friends.
Astrals test him.
Luna dies.
World darkens. Ten years of night.
The Ending
Noctis returns.
Final battle with Ardyn.
Noctis sacrifices himself.
Dawn returns. But the prince dies.
The pencil slowed. Sirius' hand cramped, but he kept writing, pressing harder, the graphite nearly breaking through the page. These were not notes. They were prophecies carved in crooked lines.
His throat tightened. His hand trembled when he wrote the last name—Ardyn—as if the page itself recoiled from it.
He scrawled furiously beneath:
What do I do now???
Learn sword!!
Martial arts.
Train every day → STRONGER.
Hunt monsters (Gil? medicine?).
Crownsguard? (like Father).
Kingsglaive? (secret soldiers?).
Or adventurer?? Free path??
DON'T BE WEAK.
CHANGE THE ENDING!!!
The words sprawled jaggedly across the page, underlined until the paper tore. His vow bled into every line.
He closed the notebook with shaking hands and slid it beneath his pillow, as though hiding it might protect it from fate.
The lamp still burned, white light gleaming against the crystal veins in the walls. Sirius flicked the switch, plunging the room into darkness. Only the faint hum of the barrier outside remained, seeping through the glass like a lullaby.
He crawled into bed, curling beneath the blanket. The stuffed wolf lay by his side, its stitched mouth frozen in a silent snarl. Sirius clutched it close, imagining its fangs bared not in play, but in promise.
Sleep came slowly. His heart thudded with too many thoughts: Dominic Blake, his father, a Crownsguard with the same red eyes Sirius carried. Lyla Leonis, his gentle mother, her hair already white as snow since before he was born. Sirius never questioned why—it was simply the way she was. His uncle, Cor Leonis—the Immortal. The man Sirius would need to stand before if he truly wanted strength.
And beyond them—the others. Noctis, still a child, one year younger, unaware of the chains waiting for him. Ignis, Gladio, Prompto—the companions not yet tied together. Lunafreya, far away in Tenebrae, already marked by fate. And Ardyn… always Ardyn, smiling in the dark.
The weight of it pressed down, suffocating. He had watched this ending once before, safe on the other side of a screen. But here, in flesh and blood, that ending was unbearable.
"I'll change it," he whispered into the night, his voice small but steady. "Somehow… I'll change it."
The words lingered like a spark in the dark.
Far beneath the city, the Crystal pulsed, its light rippling through unseen channels. The Astrals stirred, listening. And though Sirius did not yet know it, with that vow, the wheel of fate had already begun to turn.