The lid opens slowly, revealing a sunny road in Duscae. Kebechet is there, stepping out of the Regalia with a thin blanket, black and printed with the Regency's official military insignia. Their hand is gentle, and the blanket is soft and pleasantly warm. Kebechet's gloved hand could be cold and clammy, but it's gentle, comforting, lifting Noctis' head by the chin like a parent would.

"I am sorry." It sounds genuine. "But you had to see it. The risk. All that could be lost."