It's a relief, that's for certain, but dread sets in as Prompto eyes up the rift in the distance. Gods, he hates closing them. He's only done it once or twice, but he still hates it, how it makes his hand and arm ache, and that he's using something he doesn't understand at all to accomplish it. But he has little choice here.

"Okay. Right." He lifts up his marked hand, aiming it at the rift. Prompto focuses as best he can, wincing as green energy sparks around the mark on his hand. "On three?"