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It was impossible to determine how many days had passed like this, trapped. Outside the entire world was bathed in constant darkness, there was no reset signaling the start of a new day. Ignis thought that he had been here for about five days, but that was an estimate at best. There was no cycle, nothing to indicate when one day started and the next began. The group of people holding him seemed to arrive at random times and in random groups. So far he could pick out six distinct voices, two women, three men, and one more that he suspected was also male but they were quite young and their voice was quite high.
They would arrive in groups from two to six and then take turns. Sometimes they beat him, sometimes they cut at his skin with what he could only assume were knives. They often asked pointed questions in between the pain but they were asking less and less. They were probably figuring out that he wasn’t going to give them any answers. He had no idea who they were or what they wanted.
Clearly, the small group was ill-informed. They had bound his hands up in a chain, leaving just enough slack for him to stand, legs bound, with his arms held over his head. They had also tied a blindfold over his eyes which told him that they had no idea what they were doing. It was well known among the hunters that he was, for all intents and purposes, completely blind. So why bother with the blindfold? It meant they weren’t angry hunters.
“You wanna end this never-ending agony this time?” It was one of the women. Her voice was harsh, like someone had rubbed sandpaper over her vocal cords. Probably a smoker, when indulgences like that were commonplace. Just like every other time they prodded him, Ignis stayed silent, just listening. His only hope of escape was catching them off guard, somehow. While he could still summon his weapons, at this angle there was little he could do against the steel chains. He had already tried. Magic was also an option but without knowing where he was that just invitation disaster.
“Tell us where we can find the crystal!” The same woman bellowed at him. Only a moment later Ignis felt a small gasp forced from his lungs. A blade, a knife, was shoved into his stomach so deep that the hilt cut into his body. Before they had been careful, no wounds that would cause him to lose too much blood or possibly be lethal. Now they were either angry or stupid. She pulled out the blade and quickly forced it back in, tearing the flesh with the sharp blade
The hilt made a sickening squishing noise as it pushed up against the new wound and forced blood down his side. He focused on the details, on her voice, on the height of the wound, on the weapon, that way he could ignore the pain. She pulled out the knife and stabbed his gut a third time, this time with enough force that a hiss of pain skipped past his lips. She was no longer interested in his answers, she was angry.
The advisor could feel blood seeping into his clothes with alarming speed. These wounds were deep enough that if she kept going he could very likely die of blood loss.
“If you kill me, you will never get your answer.” Silence and then a burst of pain in his temple as his head snapped to the side. She’d hit him with the butt of her knife hard enough that he felt dizzy. While he’d angered her, he had pretty much proven that it was only the two of them. For a short moment, he absolutely lamented the loss of his vision. If he could see maybe he would know if she had a key to release him or not. Or even how his restraints locked. But he was not going to let himself be stopped by something he had no control over.
“Shut up! You’ve been playing us for fools for days and I’ve had enough!” Another slice of the knife into flesh. “You probably don’t even know where the crystal is! Which means you’re worthless to us. No one’s coming to get you, Scientia. So how about I just slice your gut open and let you bleed out on the floor?”
The venom in her voice spoke volumes. She was far past angry, instead fueled by malice and hatred. Each word was as sharp as her knife although he wasn’t sure why it was aimed at him.
“It’s all your fault! You and your idiot friends. If you’d protected the king like you’re supposed to we wouldn’t have to live in this endless night! I’m going to make your death slow and very, very painful.” She leaned in close, her breath tricking across his neck like a miasma.
Ignis forced himself to breathe even though taking in air felt like needles through his chest. He wanted to rebut her, tell her all they went through to try to protect him. To protect their king. But he knew it would be pointless. She wouldn’t understand, no one could. No one could ever understand the exact moment, watching his vision burn away and seeing nothing but his best friend limp, unmoving. To feel the only semblance of a family any of them had ripped itself apart in pain and grief. So he stayed silent. He let her bring her hatred against him wound by wound, absorbing her pain as his own.
Eventually, she slowed, the room punctuated by her heavy breathing and the constant drip drip drip of blood on the floor. He was feeling lightheaded and weak as if he would fall over if he’d been able to stand. It hurt to move, it hurt to stay still. He let himself hang from the chain holding his arms, even though he could feel his left shoulder slowly slipping out of its socket. It would be nothing like the pain of his body being torn to ribbons.
“You wanna know why no one’s looking for you?” She sounded smug but also winded. The fury keeping her going had ebbed into his body, tearing it apart with each slash. “We knew they’d come for you so we gave them your glasses. Broken, of course, and a little bit of blood. So now they all think you’re dead. And you will be. Any last words?”
She was right, he was going to die here. Here alone in some sort of shed or building, hidden away in the darkness. But none of that mattered. Not the pain, not the sensation of his body rending with every gasp of breath. What mattered was that he wasn’t going to be there when Noct woke up. That he wasn’t going to be by his side when he returned to claim what was rightfully his. And that hurt more than any torture or any blade ever could.
“My last words are you better get the hell out of here before I do you ten times worse!” Ignis startled at the voice, his head snapping up to see, as if he’d forgotten his world was nothing but an empty nothing. The voice rang in his ears, a welcome familiar comfort. It was deep and carried far, the voice of a man who knew how to both communicate and intimidate.
“Gladio…?” The advisor was surprised at the raspiness of his own voice which almost sounded like he had forgotten how to speak. There was a sudden, loud, thump and the clattering of something across the ground. He knew those sounds. A shield used for offense, Gladio’s full might behind a deadly bodyslam into the ground. And then the knife that had been soaked in his own blood hitting the ground and being kicked away by a trained soldier.
“Ignis, what the hell! I was told you were dead! I came here to collect your body.”
“You came?” He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised. Maybe because the last time they had seen each other it had been a rather unpleasant exchange. He had a feeling that another was coming, a tirade on why he should be back at base and not out here, trying to fight. Certainly, this situation was going to turn the tide even stronger in Gladio’s direction.
Ignis heard the snap of steel and the chains holding him upright gave way. His knees folded but Gladio’s arm caught him, carefully lowering him to the ground. The other man’s arm felt like hot led against his skin or was he so cold that it made Gladio feel warm. Ignis felt faint as if he would lose consciousness at any moment.
“Please allow me a moment to recover, then we can return to base.” The Shield didn’t answer but he could feel movement and then there was a quiet mechanical click. The metal bindings on his legs were pulled free and the chain slowly unwrapped from his hands. As circulation rushed back it brought with it a familiar pain but the sensation seemed rather distant now. As if he was observing it in someone else.
“Iggy we have to get you back, and now.” There was no room for argument between his words. The man stood and pulled Ignis to his feet in turn. The sudden movement wrenched away his sense of up and down but he did manage to stay on his feet. He felt Gladio’s hand on his back, trying to lead him by pushing him in the correct direction. Their bodies were so close together that he felt the other’s body tense as Ignis wobbled, unsteady on his feet.
“Ignis-”
“Gladio, I will be fine. I asked for a moment, did I not? I just...need...a moment.” It was getting hard for Ignis to string words together. He didn’t even notice his own knees give in and Gladio caught him again, this time just shifting the other man into his arms. It was obvious by the paleness of his skin and the red soaking the floor that Ignis was bleeding out.
Without giving the blind man a chance to complain he started to carry him. He couldn't run without making the injuries worse so he just walked with steady, long strides.
“Gladio? If I die, please, tell Noctis that-”
“Shush. You’re not going to die. Just hold on, I’ll carry you. And I’ll keep carrying you until you can stand on your own two feet in front of him, you idiot. I wish you wouldn’t...no, this isn’t the time to fight. Just know I’m going to keep holding on.”
Ignis didn’t respond, instead, he just let himself relax into the strong arms that cradled him with a surprising gentleness. It was a long way to base and he knew he couldn’t hold onto his conscientiousness that long. So he was going to enjoy the sensation while he could.