Prompto sits at the end of a fluffy white cloud, staring down at the world he used to be a part of. His heart no longer thumps in his chest, a spontaneous bubbling splitting his stomach each night. He stares down at the world that had loved him so much, watching how the evening sky would reflect beautiful colours onto his shirt and trousers, illuminating his tiny space of heaven with fluttering wings and a small halo. Noctis, however, sits at the end of a large palace table, twirling a blade between his thumb and forefinger. His emotions begin to turn sour when he hears the sound of his father's booming voice, lecturing on him to find an adequate demon wife to become a rightful queen. He understands his father's wishes, ironically praying to the heavens that his father leaves him alone to find someone for himself. Noctis doesn't know he's being watched though, he does't know that someone is listening either. His thoughts, wishes, aspirations all seem to have been carried upwards, right into the ears of a small, sleeping angel. This angel, however, knows him all too well.