An enormous tower stood firmly as the outside world continued to erode around it, shaking fragments of metal from the walls, bringing them smashing down into the sea of sand and ash below. The sky sat above everything, ominous and vile as ever as if the crimson sky gazed into every little crevice atop Midnight’s surface.

Further within the tower, hidden from the world’s sight, existed a massive chamber. Dim lights flickered from the ceiling as the shadows of soldiers could be seen silhouetted against the walls as they marched through the halls. A silent hush spread throughout as not even a faint cough or whisper could be heard.

A single black door sat alone along the wall, with no marked destination for it anywhere to be seen. This door, in particular, was one the soldiers never ventured into, nor even looked at for too long.

Whenever someone had to patrol alongside it, they would unconsciously fasten their pace, hurrying along out of both fear and concern, as if something was lurking within the shadows behind them. These were trained soldiers, well-regarded killers, and yet they jumped at the shadows cast by this single black door.

Further inside, through the black passageway and down a long and jagged path, arrived another smaller chamber, hidden out of sight. The sounds of electricity occasionally ruptured through the air as an almost low-toned growl followed.

The faint scribbling and scratching sounded from all around as if something was scraping lowly against the metallic walls. It created an almost ghostly aura as if one could expect a phantom’s wail to whisper out from the dark.

“No, no… that’s not right, another—” a voice spoke out from the darkness, originating from a small shrouded form that stood nearest a table. “After all these years, and yet to accomplish so little… I must have the heart prepared for the vessel... I must have results to show them…”

A face formed from behind his hood, revealing the little Impish man, Cyoc. His long nails protruded out as he scribbled down onto a small journal formed of thick pages. His marks scarred and scraped against the pages, which seemed crafted from some old and wrinkled flesh.

“The binding seals which I’ve forged have proven to be effective, but for how long? If I’m not careful, I could accidentally create a vessel that ruptures after only possessing the heart for a day…”

He turned his grim face down to look across his own arms, noting down the markings which he had forged onto his own flesh countless years ago. “Something is missing… something important, something which completes my formation.”

With a firm sigh, he continued, “I must have more samples, more experiments… I’ll have those fools from up top send down more prisoners—Ah, they did recently capture some pawns from an annoying little clan, yes? That should be adequate.”

Cyoc murmured to himself as he found his attention lost to his research and experimentations. It was to such a degree that the Impish man hadn’t even noticed the pale aura take hold throughout the room, nor the footsteps that grew thicker with every passing moment.

Suddenly, shocking Cyoc out of his hold, a cold and shallow voice called out.

“Professor.”

Cyoc twisted, raising his head and turning his attention toward the source of the voice. “Who—how in the hell did you get down here?” He looked, not recognizing the face of the man.

The man wore the armor of the soldiers up top, but something was wrong. His eyes were pale, white even, while the color from his face had completely drifted away into shadow and darkness. His voice cold, like a corpse. He called out again, “Professor, you’ve kept us waiting long enough.”

“You…” Cyoc thought for a moment as he moved from his seat, covering his research.

“Little one, don’t think for a moment you can hide your findings from us. We see everything, we know everything. Ah—specifically, you’ve sent the vessel we forged to your little city.”

Only now did Cyoc come to understand to whom he was speaking with, to which he quickly scurried away from his research and lowered his head, in an almost exaggerated bow.

“It is an honor for you to come yourself, to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“Enough, all you must know is that we have come to see with our own eyes what you’ve accomplished.” As always, the man’s voice was cold and slow, merely being whispered out through dead lips.

His eyes had become nothing but white fog as grey lines formed throughout the veins in his forehead.

“How monotonous. We’ve given you everything, we’ve ensured your survival and even moved the heart to this place as you begged. We took great steps to ensure your survival during the destruction of Enshil and even avoided the enemy’s detection… for what? For you to waste our time and act slowly and carefully...”

A pained frown formed across the man’s lips. “The time of carefully moving is over. We must speed up the process, to avoid falling into slumber. We’ve waited to see the sky with our own eyes for thousands of years… we’re done waiting. Your time is nearly through.”

“Please, I can provide you with results… I just need more time—” Cyoc tried to reason, to which the man ignored and continued speaking. “Time? You’ve had thousands of years, countless lifetimes… and nearly an unlimited supply of sacrifices to complete your research.”

He paused, speaking slowly and calmly as his faded eyes showed a more human expression. “Truthfully, if it wasn’t for us, you would already be dead. The others within our order have already outgrown their long-expired patience and were slowed in their plans only through our own efforts. If not for us, those older ones may have erupted out and cast this region back into the ancient war.”

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“Cyoc, as you know, we cannot afford discovery, not yet. We’ve buried ourselves deep beneath this dead world, preserving our might and corrupting the mortal inhabitants. Through your research, we will move one step closer to our return.”

Cyoc gestured, “Of course, of course. I don’t plan on taking too long to complete my research... only, it’s not an easy task to create a living vessel capable of containing, even harnessing this power...”

“Humph,” the man coughed out, his lungs sounding hollow and thin. “If we could contain that heart within our own true body, we would, but unfortunately we’ve already devolved to such a pitiable state.”

Turning his sight outward, the man looked toward Cyoc’s vast collection of research notes, reading through every scribbling. “These formations… are nostalgic.”

“Nostalgic?” Cyoc repeated in shock, as his eyes lit up and a grin formed on his lips. “Ah—perhaps you’re familiar with this technique of soul convergence! To rip out of a fragmented soul and placing it into a container…”

Rushing over toward his notes, Cyoc asked out toward him, “Perhaps you’re even familiar with the magic of creating a high-class phylactery! The art of transmuting your soul into a physical object, allowing your body to live forever, as long as your soul exists outside!”

There was a brief pause as the mysterious man closed his eyes and inhaled, breathing deeply, creating a faintly hollow sound as if air was passing through a punctured lung, it was rather unsettling for Cyoc, as he could only wait for a reply.

His white eyes opened again as he spoke in a whisper, “We are familiar, yes. Truthfully, many years before, we once attempted this technique to great effect. As we recall, it’s referred to by many as the art of a necromancer, the power of a demon. We warn you now, however, Cyoc… little one… using this method has a high volatility rate, and the others won’t allow that sort of risk to the vessel.”

“Oh please, if you could convince them…” As Cyoc begged, the corpse-like man stared at him with his cold white eyes, creating the illusion of clustering white fog around where his iris should’ve been.

“They won’t accept it. No, we also won’t accept it. You know what we’ve lost to create him, our vessel… our warrior.”

The small Impish man nodded, showing a grim expression as if recalling a rather absurd and horrifying tale that he had told him long before. “However, those days are only distant memories now… if you could convince them, I could have your vessel and even the heart ready by new years—”

“Cyoc!” The man shouted out, interrupting him. As he spoke, the room seemed to fall into despair. The lights flickered and burned out, the walls caved away, and even the piercing sound of an absolute silence bled through, causing an immensely loud ringing in Cyoc’s ears as his mind underwent immense stress. “Do not overstep your bounds, little imp. We are the ones who’ve raised you from damnation, your scars are proof of this. Do not think for a moment we aren’t willing to toss you away once again.”

“Ah—” Cyoc exhaled out as he felt powerless. All of his strength and control lost in an instant. The world was strange and alien as he seemed to have fallen out of the tower and passed through the desert itself.

“Your mind is especially fragile,” the man whispered as his eyes shone. “Prepare the vessel for the heart and never overstep your bounds. Remember, we are always watching, the Noctis lives on, even now, within the shadows of this dead world.”

“Yes, oh yes…” Cyoc murmured out as the world seemed to be slowly forming back into place around him. The illusion had been overwhelming, maddening even.

A faint voice ordered, “Lastly, prepare those mortals in that city of yours… there must be a war, for blood must be paid with blood.”

After a moment of pause, the voice continued speaking in a fragile whisper, "You will know who you must fight, for they will deliver death upon you and your forces.”

“...War?” Confused, Cyoc asked in a pained voice. His head had still felt split from what had happened a moment ago.

“Yes, a war within your little region. What do you call it… Direfell.” The voice echoed, “Your Direfell is but one of the many regions in which we possess power and in order to prolong our life, and the lives of the others… blood must be paid. A simple slaughter would attract unwanted attention, you see…”

“You need Direfell to wage war… for your survival?”

A shrill voice chortled out in a grim wave of emotion. “Actually, you may find it valuable to know that Ogmonog, that volatile demon, wasn‘t completely dissuaded by our explanation years ago and has taken upon resurrecting himself. So you see, whether you wish for war or not, it will come for you.”

“We care little for your mortal wars, we simply warned you so as to preserve the survival and sanctity of the heart. Ogmonog should know better than to attack where the heart lies, but regardless…”

“You’re worried about the vessel…”

The voice was silent for a moment. “Yes. Ogmonog was never fully aware of our efforts, but this may also provide an invaluable opportunity, as well, if handled correctly. Use this chance to strengthen the vessel, but shall he die…”

As the voice finished, the disorienting world of shadows slowly faded away. From the once invading darkness, all that was left within the small chamber was Cyoc, whose face was covered in sweat, and the cold corpse of a soldier, sprawled across the floor gruesomely as his blood only now began to flow.

“Seems I've got a mess to clean up…” Cyoc murmured out, stating that both literally and otherwise.