[Ardyn says nothing, for the moment. He will only let the scene play out, the warm glow of healing magic casting soft shadows in the vicinity nearest to them. It is very similar to what the Oracle of their world would have done — a quiet, slow healing. And though Ardyn’s version is a transfer of darkness from one man to another, Prompto would not be able to feel the way the Starscourge out of the other and into himself. More, always more, piling up within him.

Ardyn forces himself to watch with detachment. It’s easier, having chosen to bring him here; the knife that twists in his gut he can ignore with a practiced dismissal. Finally, he speaks.]

My healing, I assume you have no idea how it works. [He won’t even assume that Prompto even knew he was in possession of such a skill — he still is, but it lies dormant and (nearly) dead in him.]

How I used to take the Starscourge from others, into my own body. It was never so much healing, as it was a transfer.