Chapter Text
Even the unremitting night can't cool the climb up the Rock of Ravatogh. Whenever Gladio closes his eyes to wipe the sweat from them, he can imagine he's taking the stairs two at a time in Lestallum or trudging up the beach at Galdin, just for a second or two. With his eyes closed, the sting in his throat from the ash is just the city air or the saltwater. But he's gotta keep his eyes forward.
Ahead of Gladio, Sania is walking between the two glaives who volunteered to escort them up Ravatogh, Tobul and Luca. Gladio has met few glaives who didn't wait to speak until they were spoken to, and these two were no exception before they got here. Seeing them both cross-talking with the doctor is almost - cathartic, in a way that Gladio can't quite put a finger on.
"The real question is how their diets have changed with the climate," Sania is saying. The climb hasn't dampened her spirits at all. "Zu have a diverse palate, but voracity is required once they reach a certain size. Under normal circumstances, they have a wide feeding territory - by some accounts, as far afield as the mountains in Succarpe."
"I heard they roost somewhere in the Cygillan come wintertime," Tobul says. His hand has hovered at Sania's elbow the entire time they've been navigating this stretch of the slope, something Gladio first noted with approval.
"I've heard similarly. It's a shame more research wasn't done before it was too late. But, oh, they would've said there wasn't the time nor the resources. Many magnificent creatures in our world remain shrouded in mystery for want of those things. Even now, we pursue knowledge out of self-interest." Condemnation that it is, Sania says it in the same matter-of-fact way that she approaches everything else, be it mundane or scientific. Even her proposal for this expedition - dangers included - was presented pragmatically.
Luca laughs, one short syllable. "It's hard to call it self-interest when you're out here looking for answers for some very ill people, doc."
"That's exactly why it's self-interest!" Sania goes on in the same tone as before. "We are a collective human species, scrabbling around in the dark the best way we know how, and here we are, walking into another creature's nest. Back when there was a time of day to give, we didn't care what we might find here. Self-interest includes our good intentions."
Luca pauses to look over their shoulder at Tobul, who shrugs.
Gladio bites back a grin when he says, "Let's hope the self-interest pays off for all of us, zu included. Look out when the slope ends," he adds. "The path curves to the left, but there's a drop right ahead."
There is a quiet moment as they carefully file off of the silt slope and onto the most horizontal rock they've come across in the last half hour. In unspoken consensus, everyone stops for a breather.
Sania takes her water bottle out of her bag and continues, "I'm particularly looking forward to seeing the impact on shell hardness. There have been no reliable reports of new hatchings, but, if we're lucky, we may find some shards discarded from clutches that predate the Long Night. Future expeditions may be able to uncover contemporary samples for comparison."
"Any theories on where they get their calcium?" Gladio asks now that Sania has circled back around to the object of their expedition.
"A few. But what isn't a theory is their fondness for Gigantoads like the ones in Leide! The toads spend much of their time underground, and that gives them access to all kinds of minerals that allow them to build up their large tusks. I wouldn't assume a toad-based diet can entirely cover the calcium needs of a zu, but it could be a substantial contributor. While it can't be ruled out, zu aren't known to graze on plants like Cockatrice, who, as you know, jealously guard the leftover egg shells for themselves."
Luca says something then that causes Tobul to chime in. For the first time since he started on this journey with the three of them, Gladio lets his focus blur at the edges. Their triad voices fade into a pleasant and distant backdrop as he turns from the mountain and looks out at the world beyond and below.
There isn't much to see. Just like everywhere else, visibility has been cut down to a persistent nothing.
Gladio volunteered to act as a guide on this expedition because he'd been up and down Ravatogh a handful of times, something he was surprised to learn few others had done. Of those able and available in Lestallum at the time, Gladio was the only one who knew the path well enough to navigate it in the dark. It would've been nice to make the return trip with Iggy and Prompto.
Once, they'd made it up to the lava fields in time to see the moon come up and hang in the sky just ahead of them, beyond the smoke and heat mirage and no closer at the top of the mountain than at the bottom. It made Gladio feel wonderfully small. Back then, they could make an early morning start up the mountain and step out onto this same east-facing ledge just as the evening light turned to gold. All of Lucis, everything they'd seen so far, laid out in gilded blue and green and hazy with distance. That was Gladio's favorite time to be on Ravatogh: he's never been to the moon, but he has been to that place that was once blue and green and perfectly gold.
The Lucis that stretches away from the mountain now is dimmer than the memory of those days. It's like a dream that Gladio is waiting to wake up from. He doesn't feel anything when he looks out over the grey landscape. There's nothing left to feel about it.
When he looks out of the corner of his eye at Sania, she is frowning towards the skyline.
"What's up?" Gladio asks.
"The air is oddly clear up here, the ash notwithstanding. You can see the miasmal falloff."
Gladio looks toward where she's pointing, unsure of what exactly he is looking for. The sky around them seems just as greenish and fuzzy as it is elsewhere. He sweeps the horizon a couple of times, but it's hard to pick out landmarks through the gloom. Instead of straining to find them, Gladio looks up and brings his eyes slowly down. Maybe Sania's onto something: he can just make out the altitude where the darkness appears to deepen before thinning, like a fog hanging lazily around the mountain. Gladio stares straight up, trying to decide if the darkness is thinner there. He doesn't even know what time it is.
"Would explain the lack of daemons," Gladio says finally.
"Yes, it would. But the explanation for the phenomenon is equally lacking. Interesting! I wonder if it's the same elsewhere at this altitude, or if the area extends only around the mountain."
"You could ask the commodore to take you up sometime." At that suggestion from Luca, Gladio looks over his shoulder at them. Tobul is wearing a matching smile. A pair of aerial aces; figures they'd be fans of Aranea.
And, judging by Sania's openly thoughtful look when she hums in response, she must be, too. Or maybe an airship ride for science was not something she's considered before.
"Alright, daydreamers." Gladio stretches his shoulders. "Let's get a move on."
With the silt slope behind them, Gladio takes point. They have yet to run into Ravatogh's usual fare of beasties – something Sania attributed to the so-called "change in the weather" – but Gladio isn't about to let his guard down now. Not when they've got a zu nest ahead of them.
It's still an upward climb from here, a climb spent staring down at the spot where his foot is going next. But soon enough that spot darkens as it's overtaken by long-dried lava. Ahead is the unmistakable heat and light of Ravatogh burning unchanged in the darkness.
"Careful," Gladio says over his shoulder. For posterity, since everyone behind him can easily see the lava fields winking their warnings. The group takes the long way around. Again, no creatures stand guard along this cooler edge, something Gladio would count as lucky in any other circumstance. Fighting a dozen Saphyrtails was what he'd been prepared for. Their absence was not. If lack of resources is the cause, their quest for the zu's livelihood seems suddenly grim to Gladio.
He takes them past the glowing basalt banks to the sheer, multi-tiered cliff that stands between them and the nest of the zu. Even before he turns, he can hear Tobul summoning his lance.
"We'll try climbing this first one," Gladio says. He cocks an eyebrow at Sania. "Think you can handle it, doc?"
"Oh, I think I can handle them both just fine," she replies, and Gladio can see Tobul and Luca cover laughs out of the corner of his eye. Gladio gestures for Sania to go first. Pack and all, she goes to the cliff face and finds her handholds. For all their jesting, three pairs of eyes watch her hawkishly while she makes her way up the wall. It's funny what living in the dark will do for thoughts of a broken arm or a twisted ankle when you can't warp-strike to save yourself. With her light bouncing off the rock in front of her, Sania's behatted silhouette is stark against it. Gladio knows she's not made of glass. But she's not made of adamantite, either.
At the top, Sania turns back and says, "Well, come on. We don't have all day to stand around."
Luca and Tobul look at Gladio. Tobul opens his mouth, but Luca beats him to the punch: "Think you can handle it, cap?" they ask Gladio.
"You'll catch me if I fall, right?" he asks with mock apprehension.
Luca shrugs. "Don't fall."
"Great."
Gladio goes to the cliff face. He trusts his instincts when it comes to finding the old, familiar handholds, but he takes it slow - there's no reason to be a show-off. For all of the Ravatogh enthusiasts he's run into over the years, he knows that this is where most climbers stop. Seeing the lava fields is accomplishment enough without braving a zu's nest to get a look at the tomb of a Lucian king. So there are no ropes or ladders of any kind after this point. That changes today.
When Gladio gets near the top, both glaives whizz past him in streaks of glistering blue. Gladio looks up, and Tobul is holding his hand out. Gladio scoffs. He grasps Tobul's hand and puts his weight into pulling him forward off of the ledge. Tobul's yelp is cut off by his instinctive warp-strike back to the platform. Gladio vaults up the last few feet to face Tobul as Luca cackles.
Tobul flashes a grin at Gladio. "Your turn," Tobul says, dropping into a defensive stance.
"You can try--"
Sania clears her throat. Everyone, including Luca, straightens up. Sania is holding one of their lengths of rope in one hand and the most wretched of rubber mallets in the other.
"Thanks, doc. I'll take it from here," says Gladio.
"Uh-huh." She hands the equipment over, and Gladio stakes out a spot to lay the bolt.
"You guys take ten," he says, turning his back to the group.
"Will it take that long?" he hears Sania ask.
"I think he meant ten seconds," jokes Tobul.
Sania replies, "So did I."
Gladio shakes his head before setting to hammering the bolt near the ledge. It's not the kind of rig anyone would want under ideal circumstances, but it's better than nothing. And nothing's exactly what someone with no climbing experience and no warp-striking would have to work with. Ravatogh will probably never be a priority so long as the night lays long over the land - but it's better than nothing. Gladio secures their rope to the bolt and swings it until the slack end catches near the cliff face, as far out of the way as the bottom can be while still touching the ground.
He steps away from the ledge to a polite smattering of applause. Gladio rolls his eyes. "Smart asses."
Failing to keep a straight face, Tobul asks, "Wanna take ten?"
"Nope." Gladio smacks the mallet into his palm. "It's dancin' time."
"You sure?" Luca asks. "We've wasted so much time already."
Ignoring the joke, Gladio says, "We made good time on the climb, we could be nest-side in twenty minutes. Then it's all downhill from there. So let's get a move on. Doctor, you're up first again. Tobul."
His lance is already in his hand when Gladio nods at him. Turning to Sania, Tobul doesn't wait but lunges forward. He catches up Sania in his spin. In a blink, they are overhead, turning in the air level with the second ledge. Luca follows them fast with blue staccato steps, and they take Sania from Tobul at that critical height of his jump. Luca and Sania alight on the ledge; Tobul comes back down like a lightning bolt to where Gladio is standing.
It's a complicated dance, but they all made it look effortless. Even so, Gladio knows he's the monkey wrench in the routine. He's seen Aranea do the same jump as Tobul dozens of times, but it's the kind of maneuver that always makes Gladio's hands clammy if he thinks too long about it. Something about the chances of plummeting toward the ground at top speed just doesn't appeal to him. Tobul held Sania not two feet from the upper ledge for little more than a second, but it still required Luca to carry her over that last stretch of empty air.
Gladio cranes his neck back to look up at Sania; there's nothing to see at this angle, but, by the sound of it, she's already digging in her bag for the second rope and bolt.
"Time to go, captain." Gladio's attention snaps back to Tobul who's already dropping into his stance. "Ready?"
"Listen," is the only word Gladio can get out before Tobul catches hold of him. A half-turn and the world bottoms out. Tobul takes Gladio higher than he went with Sania, higher than the second ledge. He could make that, right? Gladio's insides, including his brain, are scrambling to catch up. If he could only unclench his jaw -- and then they are falling.
Just before they pass it, Luca appears and shoulders Gladio out of the air and onto the ledge. To say he lands with grace and poise would be saying too much. But he does land. Sania steps to the side while Gladio struggles to keep his feet.
"Hate bastards that fly," Gladio says through his teeth.
From below, Tobul calls, "He can dish it out, but he can't take it!"
"The king flew," remarks Luca.
When glaives say "the king," they always mean Noctis. It took Gladio a long time to figure that out. To him, King Regis has always been "the king." But, to them, he's "King Regis" in the same way that Mors was always "King Mors" when Gladio was growing up. He doesn't know when they all came to that silent consensus or why he and the other guys didn't get a vote.
"Said what I said," Gladio mutters. Tobul warps to the ledge, spinning his lance over his arm before dismissing it.
"If you three are ready," Sania starts to say crisply. Gladio takes the rope and mallet from her outstretched hands with a nod.
"Haven's up ahead if you guys want to wait there," he says, already turning his back to the group. He listens to them go before getting to work on the second bolt.
Sure, Noct flew. But he took this cliff hand over hand, every time. When Gladio's done with the rig, he looks at the mallet in his hand. He's heard of glaives throwing forks and shoes to warp. Noct said he could warp using his fishing pole, but he always claimed to be too worried about damaging it to show anyone. Twisting the mallet around, Gladio looks over his shoulder at the rock wall behind him.
In the wall is the pass to the nest. Through it, the haven's blue spire of light hangs like a specter in a darkened doorway. As far as Gladio has seen, there's nothing here to safeguard, nor any daemons to guard against. Then Gladio spots the three of them: on the haven's flat plane, Sania is leading the glaives in a stretching routine. Whatever she is calling out at intervals is monosyllabic at this distance. Gladio lowers his head and laughs through his nose. Fine - let the Oracle's light stand watch a little longer, if not forevermore. Maybe one day it will be nothing but a candle in the hollow of a deserted peak. But not today.
Gladio gives the mallet an experimental swing before deciding against trying. It's banged up enough as is. He walks under the pass and towards the haven. The three of them turn when he emerges from its shadow.
"Hard right," Gladio says, indicating with his hand. "And watch the ledge."
The four of them continue on. From the narrow walkway, the hollowed-out lair of the zu stretches away to one side. Nothing stirs inside, and the walk uphill is quiet. If they weren't walking one in front of the other, Gladio would find something - anything - to get them talking.
When it's quiet, he can hear it in the air around them - the miasma. Even if it really is thin here, he can hear it. It's like snow whispering to the ground, only right by his head, right in front of his face. It's enough to make him blink involuntarily. Prompto once described it as "staticy," but Gladio feels that static is more regular than this. The miasma allows itself some silence, some space, enough to then mutter into. It'd be easier to ignore if it was as constant as static. Instead, he keeps looking over his shoulder at - nothing. A nothing that is looking back.
At the front of the train, Tobul looks back over his shoulder, too.
"Keep going," Gladio calls, too loudly in the not-silence. "It just looks like a solid wall. You're not gonna miss it." And on they go. Before the path narrows further, everyone steps aside to let Gladio take point. He brings them up against the last drop between them and the nest.
Sania is distracted as she hands Gladio another rope and bolt. "Can you see anything inside?" she asks.
Gladio takes the mallet from her. "Light won't go that far. We'll know once we get down there. Everyone back up."
He fixes the bolt into the rock and tosses down the slack. Then he turns to Sania. "How do you want to do this?"
"Now I get a say?" she asks, and Tobul and Luca chuckle. "We'll take the rope. No need for another light show this close to the roost."
"Fair enough. I'll go first, then. There are two ledges, the first one you can take by hand."
Gladio doesn't take his own advice: he jumps down from the first ledge before grabbing the rope. Above him, he hears Luca remark, "There's a Lucian king buried up here."
"Yes," is Sania's reply. "On the other side of this hollow is the tomb of Tonitrus Lucis Caelum, the Fierce."
"You've been up there before?" Tobul asks.
"No. But my grandfather told wonderful stories about his adventures on this mountain. I admire the zu's tenacity to live in such an environment. I've seen sketches of the nest, and it's quite remarkable. Whether generations of zu have sculpted the landscape or if contemporary birds happened upon the perfect lithological accident is a mystery."
"I wonder if they started living here before or after the tomb was installed," Luca muses. Then the rope goes slack.
"All yours, doctor!" Gladio calls. He watches Sania's light bob as she climbs down from the first ledge. When she takes the rope, the glaives warp past her to stand watch with Gladio.
Aside, Luca asks Gladio, "You know anything about the Fierce?"
"Can't remember much off the top of my head. I definitely don't know when they put the tomb here. But what I do know is that we could use some of that power right about now."
He hears more than sees Tobul shrug. "We're fairly kitted out as is. Luca's got the Rogue, I've got the Wise, and you've got the--"
"No need to keep standing there," Sania interrupts. She's already halfway down the rope. "We've got a whole nest to search!"
"Someone needs to be your spotter," Gladio says.
"Do I need three spotters?"
The three spotters shift awkwardly. When Luca and Tobul look to Gladio, he waves his hand in dismissal. They nod and spread out to survey the nest. Gladio waits for Sania with his hands on his hips.
"Getting your steps in today, doc?"
"A little elbow grease is necessary for any fieldwork." When her feet are squarely on the ground, she goes on, "But a fieldnap may be in order before we make the climb back up."
Gladio chuckles. "There's a different path on the other side of this bowl or whatever you want to call it. The drop is steep in a few places, so we're gonna have to warp, but it'll take us down the side of the mountain with no back-tracking."
"That's handy. We're more or less out of rope, so will you-- what are those two doing?"
Gladio turns to see a shimmering grid of light being made in the air above what he can now just make out as the remnants of a nest.
"Looks like they might'a found something."
"I would hope so with a spectacle like that. We're fortunate that no one is at home."
The two of them carefully pick their way towards the center of the nest. In their momentary light, Luca and Tobul's warp strikes have revealed the shattered remains of zu eggs. Sania stops intermittently to collect pieces of what Gladio would politely call "leavings." She is bagging a sample when Luca warps to her side with a shell piece as long as their torso.
"How big do you want them, doctor?" Luca asks. Tobul warps over with two handfuls stacked like dinner plates.
"If you can find them intact, about the size of a piece of printer paper. Don't break them down to that size, they'll be inclined to crumble if you do. But let me have a look at this one." Luca hands over their piece. When they extend their arm to summon their weapon, Gladio steps forward, and a shell softly snaps underfoot when he does.
"Stop warping around, both of you," he commands. "Save it for--"
The syllable catches on his inhale. Gladio recognizes the sudden displacement of air seconds too late to do more than raise his shield arm over Sania's head. Powerful claws rip the mountain out from under everyone's feet, scattering the party. Gladio's vision flashes blue as the glaives throw up shields, and he dismisses his own.
"Sania! You alright?"
"Affirmative." Sania repositions her hat. Somehow, she's already gotten a few of Tobul's dinner plates into her bag, and Luca's eggshell is tucked under her elbow. "But we've got more trouble on the way."
Gladio wheels around. He can just make out a dark silhouette circling in the sky beyond the honeycomb lattice of Tobul's shield.
"Glaives!" The shields drop, and the air bursts with white as weapons are summoned in their place. Overhead, the errant zu shrieks.
Luca twists their shuriken in their hands, glowering up at the bird when they say, "They said they had eyes on it in Leide. No way it flew straight here just to wait and cut us off." Gladio throws a rueful grin at Sania.
"Congrats, doc: looks like the population is going steady."
"Save your congratulations until we answer the question of 'how!'"
Tobul doesn't wait to hear the end of Sania's sentence. He crouches, and then he's airborne. The zu is there to meet him. Tobul's lance is shimmering spider's silk against its side, aslant and silver. The dry grass of the nest is scattered by his touchdown. It is blasted by the zu's wingbeats.
"Babies," Tobul says breathlessly. "Up under the ledge, I thought I saw..."
Gladio swears under his breath before ordering, "Everyone move out of the nest. Go!" He hauls Sania forward.
When Gladio leads them past the way they came in, Luca demands, "What's the plan?"
"Get to the other side of the bowl--"
Luca cuts him off. "Which other side?"
"North side!" Gladio sees Luca's eyes flash. "Skirt the wall if you have to! There's a big hole, you're not gonna miss it. Don't fall in, either."
"Got it, captain."
"And the zu?" Tobul asks.
"We fend it off - don't kill it," he adds.
"We?" Gladio can hear Tobul's grin in his voice. "Is it time for a big, bad sword?"
With the air gusting forward, Gladio chances a look over his shoulder. What appears in his hand isn't a sword.
The zu's claws squeal across the surface of Gladio's shield, red sparks against the blue. Gladio makes a split-second decision, the same one he's done often enough with Noct to add up to a minute or more. Instead of tucking Sania to his chest, he flings her sideways. There's no time to pray that she keeps her feet - anything is better than what's coming for Gladio.
The weight of the zu's taloned foot smashes him forward, the hammer against the bullet, and Gladio flies. The earth, the sky, all one dark tunnel. And then he lands, once, twice, the shield gone from his hand, breath gone from his lungs, thoughts gone from—thrice, and something breaks under him. Everything is electric. Everything is rolling over him while he is lying still. Gladio tries to move his arm, but it's pinned under him. Sound floods back to him like blood to a bruise, and he can hear Luca shouting, can hear the crack of Tobul's leap. That's good. They all must've gotten out of the way. The darkness above him is broken by faint starlight. He's really missed stuff like that. They don't get stars like that in the city. It's too bad that,
No! He drags his arm out from under himself, roaring at the pain that blazes out from it and through the rest of him. Gladio can't move his fingers. Damned if he's gonna die like this!
The air shifts again, but not like before - this isn't the zu. No, this is bigger. Much bigger. It feels like the mountain moves beneath him, like a giant rolling over in its sleep. Something in Gladio tells it to wake the hell up.
There are sparks behind his eyelids when he blinks. He doesn't have to see it. He feels it. In the murky distance, that sleeping giant is sprinting towards Ravatogh, his eyes aglow in the gathered darkness. Titan.
Gladio can't - refuses - to believe what he is(n't) seeing. There is only one person he knows who could make a god run to his aid, and that person—he is so beyond aid.
Without slowing, Titan rakes his hand up the mountainside and down through the hollow, too fast and enormous for Gladio to dodge if he wanted to. Being manhandled by a brick wall would've been more pleasant. Gladio is flattened against Titan's fingers along with what seems like fifty tons of dirt and grit. And all fifty tons of it go with him when Titan closes his hand and Gladio rolls onto his palm. Through the space between Titan's fingers, Gladio catches a glimpse of his party shrinking into the distance before a smokescreen of dirt obscures them.
"Not me! Not just-- pick everyone else up, too, you titanic asshole!" Gladio hammers on Titan's hand with his unbroken fist. When that doesn't work, he brings out his shield and sets it to the same task. "Listen to me! HEY!" His voice is lost in the triadic thunder of earth, wind, and god.
There is an audible moment where Titan seems to be surveying the situation. Then, as easily as he'd caught up Gladio, Titan closes his fingers around the zu. And, like Gladio, the zu protests with its full chest.
"Stop!" Gladio bellows under its keening cries. "Can't you help without-- without breaking things?!"
The breath rushes out of Gladio when Titan lifts his hand - and Gladio in it - to his face. Titan's fingers part, and two golden eyes peer down at Gladio. Gladio tries to prop himself up, and his stomach drops when he realizes that he can't quite manage it.
Still, he lifts his chin to Titan. "Remember me?" The words come out hoarsely, and Gladio stops to wet his lips. "Anyone ever tell you if you want to help, you gotta ask how first?"
A deep, deafening rumble answers from Titan's chest. It makes Gladio's eyes water.
"That's right, this wasn't even your idea, was it? Well, complain to him all you want, but he'll just do things how it suits him." The zu's feathers rasp as it strains in Titan's other hand. Gladio doesn't dare break eye contact to look at it. "But, if he called you here for me, I could use the help."
Titan's face remains a stony, inscrutable mask.
"Okay. Cool. Then just-- keep holding that bird long enough for everyone down there to book it."
The two fiery wheels of Titan's eyes train downwards, and Gladio could laugh. Instead, he drags himself painfully to the edge of Titan's hand to look down, too.
Sania, Luca, and Tobul are little more than pallid points of light in the bowl beneath him. What he'd give to have a walkie-talkie or a well-aimed message in a bottle. They seem to be moving, at least, but Gladio can only guess if they're going in the right direction. This could be a long wait. His arm throbs painfully, and, with the adrenaline giving way to a cold sweat, he's receiving loud complaints from the other places where he's been hurt.
There's no use watching the three lights below him, so Gladio rolls onto his back. His head seems like it could split open at any second. He brings his good hand to the nape of his neck and feels a wetness there. Go figure. There is another rumble from Titan, and, as Gladio watches, his permanent grimace parts for what Gladio can only interpret as a yawn.
"You're tellin' me," Gladio tries to say, but it comes out as little more than a miasma mutter. At least he can't hear it up here where the heat from Ravatogh grows tepid. No, that's-- that's not how heat distribution works. It'd still be warm up here. Warm enough for eggs. He wonders if any of Sania's samples made it. Calcium deficiency, not pretty. And Vitamin D deficiency. The doctor said they were connected, like birds and frogs. Like gods and men. Gladio can't think of what the egg-collecting is in this analogy. The word "oology" springs to mind, and Gladio remembers seeing thunderoc eggs on display one time at the museum back home. When was that? High school? And who was he with then? He sees Noct's disinterested expression in the reflection of the glass.
"This is...the worst death montage known to modern science. Somebody switch the channel."
There's a pressure on Gladio's shoulder, something he interprets as Titan tilting his hand. But then Gladio is rolling over, he's climbing to his feet, he's standing there with a stock word of appreciation in his mouth where there was, a moment ago, only cotton.
"Where the hell've you been?" Gladio growls, whirling around. But he isn't there, how could he be?
Gladio doesn't know how, but he's standing in the bowl at the center of a spiral explosion of basaltic rock. Above, Titan's eyes are growing dim. The white feathers of the zu flash against the dark sky as it struggles against Titan's dissolving grip.
There is no shortage of things that Gladio wants to bellow before the god disappears, no shortage of questions and curses and bargains. They all fall short under the momentary light of the gibbous moon as it shines through the fallstreak hole in the clouds where Titan's face is - isn't - was. For a moment, the night is quicksilver. It's almost painful to look at, but Gladio watches it until it, too, returns to darkness. Before the light is truly gone, he orients himself to the way out. Somewhere, the zu cries its own curses over the rush of its retreating wingbeats.
Only in the silence that follows does Gladio find his voice again: "Thanks for the save. I guess."
There is no reply. Gladio flexes the fingers of both hands. It's not - not everything he wanted. But it's better than nothing.
This time, Gladio takes his own advice: he follows the wall to the exit. Three lights are waiting for him by the mouth of the tunnel. And Gladio puts a hand to his forehead to laugh when he sees that Sania is still carrying the massive eggshell piece that Luca gave her. Yeah, that’s much better than nothing.