The room was dim. The medical lights flickered softly as if unsure whether to illuminate a rest room or a containment cell. The sound was little more than a low hum: the constant murmur of life-support systems, of cameras recording, of technology monitoring tirelessly.

In the center of the room, on a bed surrounded by disconnected tubes and lightless sensors, Ardyn Lucis Caelum opened his eyes.

His breathing was slow, heavy, as if he were dragging centuries into a single breath. The light from the ceiling reflected in his amber eyes, still dull from prolonged lethargy. He moved his fingers, then his hands.

"Where am I?" he murmured to himself, his voice raspy.

A metallic voice, neutral but urgent, came through the room's communicator, breaking the stagnant air.

"Ardyn Lucis Caelum… Doctor Besithia requests your attention. You has a visitor."

Ardyn remained silent for a moment, letting the message hang in the air. Then, he leaned his head on the pillow, staring at the ceiling as if looking through it, beyond the wires, beyond the metal, beyond the Empire.

He sat up in bed with slow, lazy movements, as if every gesture were a declaration. His long hair was messy but still tied in that ponytail, and his body still felt pale, but not weak.