[He reaches out to take her hand, which felt solid in his until the moment he doubts it. She passes through him as she had on the altar in Altissia. Beside the chair, Pryna begins to whimper softly, incongruous with the memory.]

Whence would I return? To a world bereft of the Oracle's blessing? To the domain of gods who have robbed us of Lunafreya's light and life? All of my Blood has been spilled, Noctis. There is nothing left.

[No, Lunafreya wouldn't want this for him, but when had the world given either Nox Fleuret what they wanted?]