[Weapons fly off in wild directions and Ignis doesn't flinch. The wind of close calls shifts his hair against his forehead; sparks of pain bloom in his leg and shoulder--wounds caused by debris not weapons--and he still stands his ground.]

Am I?

[He wants to be gentle; he wants to take Ardyn into his arms and hold him until the pain is gone, but right now Ignis knows he can't. He has to be firm. For Ardyn. For his Darkness. For his Light.

For what they can be.]

If that light was gone, if he were dead and all that remained was darkness and daemons, would you fear? Would you feel pain? Would you hesitate and lash out in anything but rage and hate? Daemons cannot fear. Daemons do not feel pain. But you. You do.