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No.
Not like this.
Noctis’s entire body felt like a giant bruise and she couldn’t even keep her eyes open, but she fought to stay awake. She yanked every thread she could grab hold of, skimming mana from her boys’ already drained reserves and drinking deeply from those at rest. Prompto, Gladio, Cor, Iris- she’d be sure to apologize to them all later, it was never pleasant when she used her Aspect like this. But even if she took every drop of mana from each of her bonds, Noctis wasn’t sure it would help. The Armiger drained so much of her energy that whatever she gained went into the empty void of her reserves, trying to build up, and left nothing for her to use .
It didn’t matter. Noctis would gladly be knocked out for a week from magic exhaustion if it meant Luna would live.
With power borrowed from Nyx and Crowe (recovering painfully and slowly, but alive , the rain whispered its gratitude in her ear for saving its children), Noctis crawled over to her Oracle. She imagined the warmth and softness of a Phoenix Down with such careful attention in a way she hadn’t since she was young, and pulled it lightning-quick from the Armiger. Even that left her faint and dizzy. Noctis pushed forward, swiping more mana from Gladio (on the other side of the city, concerned, but he would live). She wasn’t done.
Crushing the Phoenix Down to Luna’s chest to bind her soul to her body, Noct waited exactly three seconds. It wasn’t enough, though the wound in Luna’s side had closed.
The body was whole and hale. It would survive. The soul, however…
This, Noctis could fix. This, Noctis had to fix. She closed her eyes, forehead bowed against Luna’s stomach, and focused.
Luna was warm, like a muggy day in the peak of summer, in harsh contrast to Noct’s own crisp autumn evening. Radiant, but weak , falling apart. The tiniest of vines connected them, old, withered, and neglected. Braided into existence twelve years ago and promptly forgotten in the fall of Tenebrae. But it was enough. So long as there was a bridge, Noctis could cross it. She grabbed every bond she had (including the newest and most tentative, spider-silk thin and precious. Noct could feel her husband’s confusion and surprise, but he was smart. He would figure it out) and squeezed out as much energy as she could, but her own mana pool was like a barrel riddled with dozens of tiny holes. Noct would have to work quickly.
First, she wrapped her magic around Luna’s soul, forming a light barrier to keep it in place. Oracle magic was less solid than hers, and would escape like vapor if there was a single opening. She sharpened her cobalt blue magic into a needle, and threaded a royal blue string through the eye. Luna’s breath hitched, and her body began to tremble, one leg kicking out as Noctis stitched her soul back together. It hurt, like broken teeth and crushed skulls. Noct was just grateful Luna wasn’t awake; she couldn’t imagine how much worse it must feel for her.
It was a well known fact that if anything needed to be sewn, Ignis or Gladio were the ones for the job. Noctis could , in theory. It just wouldn’t be good . But for her friend, whose soul was fraying and crumbling to help Noct, she would do her best. The stitches weren’t pretty, or very even, but practicality came first. If Luna was still having problems later, Noct would fix them up, but that would come later, when Luna was well on her way to recovery.
Noct’s breath became shallow, spots dancing behind her closed eyes and obscuring her work, and with increasing frequency there would be a blank second where her needle dropped before she snapped back to consciousness. Faster. She was almost done. Just ten more stitches. Five more. One more…
Lunafreya Nox Fleuret was destined to die upon Leviathan’s altar in service of the Chosen King, body and spirit withered away by holy magic.
Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, instead, took a deep breath, eyes fluttering open for a brief second before she succumbed to her exhaustion. Pieced together like Frankenstein’s monster, her golden soul glowed with renewed life, a branching river of crystal kintsugi holding it together. A second wind of the Phoenix Down’s magic, much like its namesake, rushed in, tucking her spirit back into its proper place, life-flames sealing it in.
Fate, once again, had been thwarted.
Using the last of her strength, Noctis rolled onto her back, letting the rain caress her cheeks. In any other situation, her dazed mind thought, she would’ve loved the rain. Every storm that passed over Insomnia came with the guarantee that a little Noctis would be rushing to the gardens to play with the puddles; or, when she was older, sitting by the windows to watch and listen. Same with the snow. But here, in Altissia, she was drenched and frozen to the bone, salt water in her mouth and boots. Her hair was a knotted mess, but at least her braids were alright. (She wanted to go home. Dad would make sure she was warmed up and on the mend. But he wasn’t here anymore.)
A brief tug caught her scrambled attention. Oh, Ignis was nearby! And Ravus was with him! That was good. They’d regroup with the rest of her boys and finally leave this stupid maze of a city. And Noctis could take a nice… long… nap. Yeah. That sounded good. Her boys and Luna could take care of things for a bit. She knew they’d be fine.
(When she woke, three days later and still bone tired, magic still yet to recover, Ignis was gone. And so was the Ring.)