• Welcome to Thousand Roads! You're welcome to view discussions or read our stories without registering, but you'll need an account to join in our events, interact with other members, or post one of your own fics. Why not become a member of our community? We'd love to have you!

    Join now!

Chapter 122 - The Timekeeper

Namohysip

Dragon Enthusiast
Staff
Partners
  1. flygon
  2. charizard
  3. milotic
  4. zoroark-soda
  5. sceptile
  6. marowak
  7. jirachi
Chapter 122 – The Timekeeper

A little Treecko climbed on Owen’s shoulders, grasping at his cheek.

“Yes?” Owen cooed.

She tried to climb onto his head, so Owen bent his neck and let her. She fell quickly, tumbling into Owen’s ready hands with a yelp.

“Almost, that time,” commented Mhynt, sitting next to him. The Sceptile helped Remi try again, guiding her with a single claw. She was so tiny compared to the two of them.

The sun was bright. Clear skies. It was a great day for Grass Pokémon, and the warmth was nice on Owen’s scales, too. He spread his wings and called upon the sun, intensifying its power.

“Aaaah!” Remi fell back, too fascinated by the new light, and landed in Owen’s arms again. She reached for Mhynt next.

“Hey, Owen!” someone called.

A Mew flew over with a package in his arms. Owen’s stomach growled.

“Got the takeout!” he said, puffing.

Behind him, a Meganium, Haxorus, and battered Flygon followed with their own packages.

“What happened to you?” Owen asked Gahi, smirking. “Marshadow run you into the ground again?”

“Nuh-no,” he replied quickly. “I’m, uh, I’m learning. Not a big deal, er whatever…”

“Gods, you’re even picking up his accent!” Owen laughed.

“Impressionable,” Mispy said with a sigh. She trotted to a sunny spot on the ground and fell on her side, stretching her legs.

Demitri’s eyes drifted to Remi. Owen was familiar with his body language by now and sensed envy. Seemed that the couple hadn’t been able to get an egg yet. In due time, Owen figured.

Mew set the food down and produced a much smaller package inside. “For Remi, too,” he said.

“No junk food, I hope,” Mhynt hummed, though her voice lacked hostility.

“Hey,” Gahi said. “You have time for, you know.”

“I don’t know,” Owen lied, raising a scaly brow.

Gahi growled.

“He-hey, don’t do that with Remi around,” Demitri said quietly. “She’ll get scared…”

Remi was pointing and laughing at Gahi, who stiffened up and looked away.

“Yeah, well…” He fidgeted. “Fine. We’ll spar when she’s tired.”


<><><>

Necrozma, if you’re throwing memories at me, not now, please! Owen said as he panted, running as fast as his tiny legs would allow. Trying… to not die! Not yet!

No response, of course. He still wasn’t sure if Necrozma was responsible, if this was a continued deluge from Dark Matter, or just something else. He didn’t have time to process it. He didn’t want to think about it in this chaos. Remi. A daughter. He had a daughter, and he’d forgotten about her for countless centuries. Where was she now? Did she wonder what happened to him? How different had they become?

Marshadow had been an ever-looming threat, so it was good that they’d dedicated some time to planning how to mitigate his impact. Unfortunately, he was still hard to stop. Too strong, too evasive, and even if they all focused on him—

Owen glanced at what he thought was a threatening shadow, but nothing came up. He pressed on.

—Marshadow would just sink into the ground. They couldn’t spend all their time thwarting Marshadow when there was so much to plan… And yet there Owen was, staggering away from the roads to get away from that unstoppable threat. It was good that Gahi had been ready.

He hoped Gahi would last. Demitri and Mispy would probably be close behind.

Every so often, Owen passed by brawling guards, desperate to avoid combat that he simply couldn’t handle. Their shouts were terse orders to get away, to watch their back, and occasionally they cried in surprise when a Void Shadow struck. Their foes were eerily silent, never giving away their location with grunts or roars. The guards were able to defeat several Void Shadows decisively; the problem was how long they had to keep it up. Soon, their energy would wane and fatigue would set in. Owen saw it in some of their battle stances. Unguarded, drooping, panting. Fire Pokémon were sputtering flames; Water Pokémon were drying; even the spectral Pokémon, more common in Null Village, looked faded and hazy as their energies dwindled.

But the Void Shadows, while weak, were infinite. One that fell would just be replaced by another seconds later.

Void Shadows had advanced a fifth of the way into the city; homes were locked up, some well and others ineffectually. Shrieks came from all directions with no pattern. As the Titans drew nearer, standing tall above even the largest buildings, the Void Shadows themselves became thicker and denser in number.

Owen? Can you hear us yet?! It was Amelia.

I can! I can! Owen stopped to catch his breath. His wounds had healed. It was amazing how durable he’d become; last he checked, even little jabs from the stronger members of his team had nearly put him out of commission. Now that he thought about it, the nasty fall he’d taken should have killed him in this state. Maybe it was the Tree’s energy.

Are you okay? Klent asked next.

Not really. But I got away. Marshadow’s… chasing me. But I have an idea, I don’t have time to explain. I need to concentrate. Can you see me from where you are?

Yes!

How about Gahi?

He’s still fighting Marshadow.


Then he had time. There was an abandoned building nearby. He quickly slipped inside, only to see a frightened Lillipup trembling in the corner.

“Hi,” Owen greeted, taking up residence on the other side of the ruined room.

“H-hi? Wait… you’re that Grassmander-thing! You’re supposed to be at the big bright tree!”

“Yeah.” Owen shut his eyes. “I need to concentrate right now. Hide somewhere.”

“That’s what I’m doing.”

“Oh.”

Should have known that. Too scattered. Owen went back to concentrating, looking first at his arms, then toes. The Lillipup was shorter than him. He was definitely bigger. That energy had accelerated his growth somehow; was that it?

He took the reprieve to process his memories, too. He and Mhynt had grown close, somehow. Mhynt was native to Kilo; that, he knew. They’d had a family together. When did Owen learn how to speak the human tongue that former humans had inherited? Must have been over time. Perhaps that happened to all Pokémon who had been with humans, instead of true wilds.

He couldn’t get Remi out of his mind. She haunted him. It was a horrible pit in his stomach. A cold ball of dread at what happened to her, where she was, and the fact that she might have been wondering the same thing about him for hundreds of years. Then came anger that bubbled in his chest at the idea of how many must have known the truth.

Eon… No. There was no way he would have kept that from him. If Eon knew he had a ‘granddaughter,’ he would have fought just as hard to find her as he did Owen. Amia… No. They weren’t involved in anything to do with the past before Quartz HQ, where he’d been reincarnated in a mutated body.

Star? Would she have known? Could she have known?

Or was Remi erased from history like the Legends had been?

The cold pit redoubled.

What if she was a Void Shadow? Gone, a dark shell of that bright, smiling face he’d seen in that vision…

Necrozma knew. He had to know the truth. Where Remi was, what happened to her, if she was okay. If she knew the same about him. No, was he okay? Had he ever been okay since his memories were sealed?

“A-are you okay?” Lillipup asked.

“Huh?” Owen broke his trance.

“You’re crying…”

Gulping, Owen hastily touched his cheeks, pulling away when his feathery fingers came back wet. He hadn’t even realized it.

“I’ll be fine,” Owen said, but then realized it was getting hard to speak. Now was not the time. He nodded curtly at Lillipup and focused again, trying to clear his mind. He had to save the tears for later.

If Remi was a Void Shadow, then Dark Matter knew. All the more reason to put his plan into action and confront him directly.

Owen had a few more minutes to recover. By the time he heard from Amelia again, he felt like he was back at full strength, perhaps even more.

He’s coming, Amelia said. You have maybe half a kilo.

That’s enough time.
Owen got up again. He stretched his legs, then his tail, then curled his back. That energy had to go somewhere… Time for the next part of his plan.

Owen? Amelia asked. What’re you doing?

Getting something over with.


The inside of the building lit up, the source being Owen himself. Hot, white light enveloped him, and he saw everything around him look just a little smaller. His leaves thickened until they were more like the thick foliage of a greater tree, waxy and sleek. The great autumn leaf that flattened out his tail also grew, making tiny wisps of dusty wind any time he swished it. His horn grew, and it was a little more jagged, like a bare branch.

Then, he stopped it, just as his form filled itself out.

“Oh,” Owen added, “and if Marshadow comes here and asks where I went… just be honest. For everyone’s sake.”

The Lillipup gaped, trembling with what Owen hoped was awe. As he left, though, it seemed like there was some light in his eyes. For a fleeting moment, Owen felt like a Heart again.

Owen rushed into the streets and then ran to the right, toward where he’d last seen Marshadow, and then made heavy footsteps that he knew Lillipup’s keen hearing would pick up. He went around the house and toward the next street over, still empty, and ran into an abandoned building. He ignored the half-eaten dinner and the overturned seats and instead paced around, holding his hands together to pull at something he’d grabbed several minutes ago. He had been concentrating to keep it in him for a while longer, that lingering power Gahi had granted him before…

Hey, guys? Owen called. Do you think if Marshadow saw me, and I said I wasn’t me… he’d leave me alone?

That’s probably the dumbest thing you’ve said all day,
Amelia said.

What’s your reasoning? Klent asked patiently.

Marshadow phrased his orders really strangely before. That he’s searching for a Charmander. If I’m a Charmeleon, say I’m not Owen… What if Marshadow’s trying to evade following Dark Matter’s orders, by following them exactly as he was told?

Dark Matter will just tell him to chase a Charmeleon next? Or say Owen exactly? You might get Marshadow in trouble if you do that, too.
Amelia hummed. Also, that’s still the dumbest thing you’ve—

Fine, fine, different plan… But that might be useful later. We need to learn how Dark Matter controls people… Marshadow behaves differently from the others. Maybe he’s still trying to resist?

Just find something else.

I am, I am!
Owen grumbled, chittering irritably. It totally would have worked. But maybe it was also too risky, and would endanger too many people. Thankfully—as he felt that Psychic pulse of power still there in his hands—he had a backup.

Owen looked behind him and saw that he’d left a small trail—nearly imperceptible—of leafy feathers. That was perfect. After some searching, Owen opened a cupboard and stuffed himself inside, feet knocking against some containers of a dusty product probably meant to have water added. His tail curled around a pipe.

…This is your plan, Amelia commented. Hiding in a sink.

He can probably track my spirit. I’m going to leave an echo of it behind.

Do you… have the spare spirit to do that?

I’ll make it work. I just need to be there for a little while.

Guardian of Grass, wielder of light and shadow, everyone!
Amelia declared. Hiding in a sink!

Give me a break!
Owen grumbled as he pooled some of his energy into his chest, and then—as his vision blurred—he searched around and shoved the golden orb inside an open bucket of dust. It quickly sprouted into a small daffodil. Okay. That should do, he said, feeling winded, but he had to push a little more. Teleporting now.

Be careful, Owen,
Klent said.

In a flash of light, Owen disappeared and went as far as he could, to the top of a roof a few streets down. Then, in another breath, into the main road of another. A headache encroached upon him, so he pushed for one last Teleport before releasing his hold on the Mimicked technique. Now in a deserted side-road far from the current battle lines, only a few streets from the Tree, he had to go the rest of the way on foot.

I just need to hope that Marshadow doesn’t catch me in time, and maybe have faith that he’ll be slow on purpose.

Faith, huh? From someone like you?
Amelia remarked idly.

It’s all I have left. Owen grinned, then channeled that hope into more energy for his legs.

It was hard to tell how the battle was going. He was nearly three times his height, but the buildings were still so much taller. The best he could guess was that the Villagers were still losing ground, and he could only hope that not too many were claimed by the Void Shadows to become part of their army. The very thought tightened his chest, and again he could only imagine Remi fighting among them as a mindless puppet.

Wah! A bunch of people just appeared from the sky! Well, not a bunch, I—wait, is that Ra? Nope, there he goes…

Owen craned his neck, seeing several transparent creatures falling from the sky. It wasn’t through Nevren’s portal, but the one that the Tree had blown open in the sky from before. Most of them seemed to have gone to the east, but he recognized one in particular. Step, riding on a chunk of ice, losing her momentum and falling somewhere to the eastern side of town. Owen skidded to a stop as two smaller Kommo-o spirits, looking more solid as they got closer, flailed helplessly in the air until a Hydreigon came after them, catching both.

And for a split-second, Owen locked eyes with him. He was sure of it. A horrible feeling crawled across his back. Those eyes… this shadowy place… What memory was buried that he couldn’t recall?

The Hydreigon twisted, adjusting his falling path, and stretched his spectral wings to slow the fall while carrying the two Kommo-o. It wasn’t enough; he was going to crash, and badly!

Owen fell onto all fours and dug his claws into the ground. A pulse of prismatic energy radiated outward. He directed the energy forward, judging where they would fall, and pushed even deeper into the ruined street. Flowers bloomed around him in a small circle, but even more grew in the target ahead. Then, a leafy bush sprouted and flourished in seconds, leaves upon leaves forming what Owen hoped would be a decent cushion. The roots writhed in the ground, loosening the soil, and that was the best he could do.

Hydreigon slammed hard into the bush and one of the passengers yelped. The foliage had been almost completely flattened, but the Pokémon that landed on it were in one piece. Owen rushed toward them. “A-are you three okay?!”

“Never better,” grumbled the smaller Kommo-o.

“Gonna feel that one later…” The other yanked herself out of Hydreigon’s grip.

Primal fear still strangled Owen, but the tiny rational part of his mind reminded him that this wasn’t Alexander. He’d never even seen Alexander before—in his current memories, at least.

And then, in all of his panicked thoughts, it finally dawned on him who this really was.

“D… Dad?”

All six of his eyes were wincing in pain, but he opened the left eye of his main head to stare at Owen. “Oh… Owen! Is that…”

“Yeah, uh, b-been a while, huh?”

Despite the fall and the fatigue, Alex lunged toward Owen and pulled him into a tight hug. Owen yipped and chirped in surprise, trying to pull away, but he’d never realized how strong Alex could be. Perhaps it was the body, his true body.

“I was so worried!” Alex whimpered. “Oh, Owen, Owen, Owen, I’m so glad you’re okay! I… I didn’t know what to think! Th-that you’d been taken by this horrible demon, that I wouldn’t see you again, I… oh, Owen!”

The panic and primal fear slowly left him, enough that he could realize what was happening. Owen tried to wrap his arms around Alex, but he was still too small, even as a Charmeleon. His feet were dangling in the air.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine…” Owen took a steady breath. “I’m… I’m fine. I…”

The panic was gone, now. Alex felt colder than usual, but there was a different kind of warmth that he felt all the same. This was his father. He hadn’t even known, after everything that happened, if he was alright. Truly okay. But now, he was here.

The back of his mind found it irresponsible, but he forgot about the battle for a half second. He wanted to cry again. To pull Alex closer and ask for a bedtime story. He was far, far too old for it. But after everything that had happened, it was all he wanted to ask for.

But he couldn’t.

Holding back a sniffle, Owen said, “I need to get there.” He pointed, and Alex followed his gaze to the Tree. “You two, it’s not safe here…”

“Gee, ya think?” The first Kommo-o prodded the second. “Ana, what’re we doing?”

“Um… Cent, I dunno if this is… uh, within our… Where’s Mom?”

“Look for her,” Owen advised. “I don’t think you should be straying too far from Step right now.”

“Um, I’m technically a spirit of hers, too, for now,” Alex said, prodding his smaller heads together. “It’s… complicated.”

“Well, either way, I think we should get going to the tree, a-and you’re the one who can fly! Things are bad right now, dad.”

“Then quit talking!” Cent grabbed Owen by the back of his neck and lobbed him onto Alex’s back.

“I can climb, you know!” Owen said.

“Fly!” Cent said, prodding Alex with an icy claw in the backside.

He squeaked and took off, wobbly at first, but then found his tempo.

It was a mesmerizing sight from above without all the branches getting in the way. On all sides of Null Village, elemental attacks—mostly fire and lightning for the moment—collided with beams of darkness that absorbed the light around it. Occasionally, the particularly strong blasts had a slightly purple glow to it, like a ghostly aura.

There were four Titans in the air, and Owen realized, to his horror, that one Titan was familiar. The very one he’d taken down at the start of the fight. Dark Matter had recreated it… because of course he could. Even if he killed one, they would reappear nearby, and Dark Matter could claim them, coalesce them, control them all over again. Even at their weakest, if they were numerous enough, they would overwhelm their finite numbers and resources.

It really was a losing battle. Not unless they did something to upset Dark Matter’s plans.

Shrieks from below caught their attention. Alex narrowly rolled out of the way of an Ice Beam, and then rolled—with a terrified scream—away from a Moonblast’s blinding aura next.

“Alexander!” cried a guard. “Alexander’s here!”

“H-how do they know my name?” Alex whimpered. “J-just Alex is fine, thank you! Please stop shooting me!”

“Their ruler is a Hydreigon called Alexander, too,” Owen whispered. “But he’s a tyrant. And powerful. Extremely powerful, a-and you must remind them of him.”

There was a deep horror in Alex’s eyes that Owen couldn’t fully comprehend. Like he’d realized something.

Owen worriedly looked down. “Dad?”

“It can’t be…”

“Watch out!” Owen leapt from Alex’s back, tail caught by the clamped jaws of Alex’s left head. He swung through the air freely and crossed his arms, narrowly deflecting another Moonblast.

“STOP ATTACKING!” Owen roared as loudly as his voice would allow. He searched desperately for the source, but they hid the moment they fired.

“I—I certainly look like him,” Alex said quickly, spinning to get Owen onto his back. “I certainly do. Perhaps e-even my spirit. Owen, he’s my father. I thought he was dead. M-maybe he is, and his spirit went here… I can’t…”

“You share the same name?”

“Southern tradition,” Alex explained.

Owen couldn’t imagine how someone as kindhearted as his father could have been born from such a tyrant… He figured this was the case, yet having it confirmed made it so much harder to believe.

“Let’s hurry to the Tree,” Owen hastened, clutching Alex’s shoulders. The wind made it hard to see, but they were only a few seconds away. “I need to let them know you’re friendly.”

“Can word get out that quickly? It’s chaos down there…”

“We can try…”

Fliers were trailing them. Owen recognized one instantly. “GAHI!” Owen almost laughed, waving him down. The Flygon sped up, looking confused.

“Gahi, tell everyone that Hydreigon is my dad, and he’s not Alexander. Okay?”

“Yeh evolved.”

“Later! Tell everyone that! Okay?”

Yer welcome fer rescuin’ yeh, by the way.”

“Y-yes, thank you! Really!” Owen urged him to go, but Gahi smirked at him and nodded. He started to fly, but then Owen shouted, “Wait!”

Gahi stumbled in the air, glaring back.

“How’s Demitri and Mispy?”

“Killin’ it. I’m gonna go help’m out now.”

Owen nodded. “Don’t fuse unless you need to,” he added. Last thing they needed was a mindless fighter with no direction; Owen couldn’t afford to direct them right now. Right?

No… he could.

“GAHI!”

Whaaat?!”

He disappeared and reappeared next to Owen, keeping pace easily.

“New idea! Get Demitri and Mispy to the Tree. We need to change our strategy.”

Gahi made an annoyed grunt and flew off again. Skies, Owen hoped Gahi remembered to deliver both messages. That might have been too much for him.

Owen searched for Zena next, noticing that she wasn’t near the Tree. She must have gone after him. Milotic, Milotic—she shined among everything else. It would be easy to find—there! No! She was looking away!

“Dad, hold still for a second, if you can,” Owen said as he balled up his fist. From his palm, a sphere of energy formed and solidified, feeling slightly like the outside of a heavy seed. He threw it as far as he could toward Zena, then popped it when it was seconds from hitting the ground.

Zena jumped and spun around. Owen waved frantically. He saw her whole body deflate with relief as she returned.

They got heavy fire from guards that had been placed by the tree, but Alex slowed down and kept his distance long enough for Owen to call it off. They seemed skeptical, but after some shouting, they allowed Alex to land and rest his wings.

“Goodness, this is a bright plant,” Alex remarked, nestling against some of the prismatic leaves.

“Yeah, it’s great, isn’t it?” Owen touched the bark, treasuring the stable seating. “Close your eyes when I do this. I need to channel more energy. I can probably only do this once or twice before Marshadow is ordered to stop me again.”

“Who?” Alex asked.

“This town’s leader. Except Dark Matter got him. His will isn’t his own anymore…”

“That’s awful…”

“That’s what it’s like for everyone fighting us.”

The battlefield was even grimmer than before. It was easy, at a glance, to read how the battle was progressing. Void Shadows darkened the battlefield, while Null Villagers were an eclectic arrangement of colors and elemental beams of energy. When the battle had begun, the field was bright from the Tree’s radiant energy and the Void Shadows only being at the edges. Buildings stood tall and proud, and the outer walls held strong. Now, Titans knocked over huge portions of that outer wall. Void Shadows darkened the outer perimeters. Many of those buildings had collapsed, and with it the memories treasured inside.

Four Titans were present, one in each cardinal direction. One was Giratina. It still looked weakened; maybe if he fired again, she would be freed? Yes, that was a certainty. They had to endure, and Owen taking down a Titan or two would help the army on the ground handle the rest.

“Dad. Can you go down and ask which of the Titans seems to be the strongest?”

Alex nodded. “What will you be doing?”

“Getting ready to go on the offensive.”

<><><>​

Rhys finally found it. Somehow, amid all of that chaos, he’d found the Dungeon Core. It wasn’t as deep as he’d expected, or perhaps it had shifted during their time away. But now, it was near where he remembered Amia’s home once being. Appropriate, if that was where the Guardian of Hot Spot had once lived.

Dark Matter had left the others alone; perhaps he wanted to get at least one of them, and didn’t bother splitting his efforts across Hot Spot. And by luck—good or bad, Rhys wasn’t sure anymore—he chose to go after Rhys.

There had been several frustrating times when time had been rewound again. Reliving a moment’s time over and over, but at least it gave Rhys some time to try better ways to move ahead. At some point, it seemed like it had stopped, and now Rhys was alone in the back chambers of Hot Spot.

Now that he’d made it to the Core, Rhys only had one thing left to do.

With what little power he had left, he brought his paws together and pointed it at the Core. It was a great, ominous sphere of red light that dripped with heavy-looking, black fog. Anam had used a strange light energy to seal it away; Rhys had to settle for the one Hand he had within him to make up for that. If he could stabilize it, if he could seal it, then Dark Matter wouldn’t be able to seep into Kilo. Nevren had found other ways inside the Voidlands; therefore, perhaps that meant he was also finding ways to free them.

He fired. It was agonizingly stressful on his body, but he fired. The Core rumbled and a deafening, almost corrosive wave of energy forced him to one knee. The sky warped and straightened out, like a thin barrier had given way. Was it stabilizing? Was his blast enough to help it?

“Why are you here?”

Rhys rolled, dodging nothing. Dark Matter hadn’t even fired that time. He had waited.

Then he fired, and it struck Rhys square in the chest. In a single, devastating blow, Rhys rolled all the way into the corner of the room, where he had a view of the long, long cavern through which he’d traveled. There was a ripple in the air that suggested he’d passed through one of its zones without even realizing it.

Finally finding his breath, he said, “Attacking… the Core.”

“That will accomplish nothing. You can’t control it.”

“I certainly did something…” Rhys smirked weakly. His mouth tasted of rot and metal.

“Not enough.”

Dark Matter held a hand out and fired again, but Rhys dodged this one, stumbling. Someone passed through the distortion before Dark Matter could fire his follow-up. He instead turned his hand and fired at the intruder.

It bounced off of a greenish barrier, hitting the wall instead. Flames enveloped the false Goodra in an instant, and then something wreathed in that same fire shoved Dark Matter toward the Core.

Dark Matter fired again, missing completely and vaporizing part of the wall instead.

“Owen—no,” Rhys shook his head. “Har…”

“We’re getting you out of here, Rhys!” Har shouted, glaring at him. “Why did you go deeper into the Dungeon?”

“He was after me,” Rhys snarled. “We wouldn’t have been able to escape.”

“So you’re just gonna die for it?!” Har weaved between two blasts from the demon, then blasted Dark Matter with indigo fire. A second beam struck Dark Matter from the distortion entrance—Ani. Just behind her was Lygo, and then came Ax.

“I don’t have time for this,” Dark Matter snarled, taking aim at Ani. Har immediately intercepted with another Protect, its cyan shield illuminating the rest of the chamber even more than his flame already was.

Rhys felt something on his side and tried to move, but then bumped into something soft and cold. Wraiths—and they were upon him!

He tried to shout, but Dark Matter had already struck at Lygo, who already looked injured from a previous skirmish. Had he known they were coming? Or was he just too strong?

They looked like they were losing ground. The atmosphere was too oppressive. “You have to get away!” Rhys shouted, pulling away from the wraiths.

Dark Matter lunged at Rhys, finally grasping him by the arm. He gasped.

“Let’s go somewhere more private,” he growled, and then hurled Rhys toward the Core. He was helpless to stop it. One moment, he was flying, all of his wounds stinging in the rush of air, and in the next—darkness.

<><><>​

“H-help…”

Rayquaza helplessly reached forward. His arms were too small. But Dialga reached out anyway, as well as he could manage, even channeling some psychic power in a feeble attempt to hang on.

Drawing Rayquaza down was a horrid force; half of his body had already descended into a blackish-purple pit. The sky was dark despite being noon.

Then, Rhys felt a light from behind, casting sharp shadows. The heat was unbearable. Rayquaza, in desperation, clamped his jaws onto Dialga’s foreleg, and Dialga pulled and tried to cooperate.

Dialga glanced back when the light got even brighter. He saw Necrozma, or the shape of him. And a beam of light…

The burn. He would never forget that burn.


<><><>

Rhys gasped himself awake, chest tight, head dizzy, eyes blind. No, it was dark. When Rhys channeled aura into his paws, there was a dim glow. Dimmer than it should have been. When he tried to sit up, nausea took over, and he settled for the ground.

His moment of reprieve ended with a stomp. He felt the spike on his chest pierce something, but it powered through and pressed against his lungs. Rhys clawed at it, desperate for a breath, and felt cold fur. He saw… himself, looming over him. An empty expression and dark eyes stared at him. The assailant’s foot was bleeding, not that it mattered. The blood itself was corrosive, only adding to the pain, mixing with his own as that same coldness raced through his body like venom.

“Rhys! RHYS!”

“Where’d you take him?!”


Har, Lygo. They were shouting somewhere far away.

“They can’t save you,” the second Lucario said. Thin strings of darkness wrapped around Rhys’ arms and legs, pinning him against the stone. He couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. Any resistance was met with lacerations from the thin strings that held him in place. “This is where you’ll die. In a cave in the Voidlands, surrounded by nobody you know.”

Countless, formless masses stared at Rhys. Each one was a wraith. Some sort of pit of them.

Dark Matter took his foot off of Rhys and he breathed deeply, only to stop midway. The pain was excruciating. He coughed and hacked, raspy breaths all he could manage.

“Owen is losing the war. Anam has given up hope. And soon, all of Kilo will become nothing but an extension of the Voidlands.”

“I know… that isn’t true,” Rhys wheezed, trying again to move, but nothing allowed it.

He couldn’t hear Har or the others anymore. That small comfort was gone.

“I’m going to kill you,” Dark Matter said, walking even closer. From the false Lucario’s paw, a flat rod of shadows emerged, splitting flesh and fur in favor of that wretched blade. “Do you know what happens to those who die in the Voidlands?”

“Enlighten me,” Rhys hissed.

Dark Matter’s glare somehow became fiercer, like Rhys had spat in his face.

“Their memories are sealed, claimed by me. The more of themselves they lose and the more of them that I gain, the more I control them. The more they are under my rule.”

Rhys remained resolute. “Yet you couldn’t claim all of us. I know… that we will be freed. Is that right?”

“But you…” Dark Matter’s hold on him tightened, the dark strings threatening to meet bone. “You saw it, didn’t you? A memory.”

It was that memory of Rayquaza. It was through the eyes of Dialga…

“Whose memories were those? It felt… like a very powerful being, trying to save… Rayquaza.” He had vague memories of Rayquaza. He remembered knowing one in the distant past, but perhaps only in passing, only in stories. Yet, seeing that Pokémon, it tightened his heart. He wanted to see more of him.

“Yours.”

“Mine…” Rhys wasn’t sure if he was lying. Yet it felt so true. Dialga? Why was he entertaining this concept at all?

“You fought in the dark war, so long ago. You remember this, but perhaps mixed that memory with the memory of the second dark war only a few centuries ago. You remember none of the details of the first. Faded from your mind, because perhaps it was too terrible. That is only a half-truth. The reality is that your very spirit had been split in two. The mortal half that had been born from the human world, transferred to Kilo by the wrath of a reckless god… and the half that was later repurposed into a god, to preserve the false world on borrowed time.”

Rhys said nothing, conserving his energy, trying to buy time. There would be a rescue soon. He needed to have faith.

“And so,” Dark Matter said, “when you die, you will not drift across the Aura Sea. You won’t even reawaken as a shell in the Voidlands…” The grip tightened. “You will return to Dialga. You will become nothing but a memory. You… will cease.”

A cold feeling coursed through his veins that he knew was Dark Matter’s corruption. He pressed against it, defiant, refusing to let that plunge him down.

“You’re only telling me this… to make me lose hope,” Rhys grunted.

“I am only telling you the truth. There is no point in lying to someone about to disappear.”

“I won’t,” Rhys replied, a harsh smile breaking through his previous stony expression. “As you said yourself… I shall persist within Dialga. I will reunite with him… and my memory will live on. I will live on!”

“How much could you possibly think,” Dark Matter taunted, “that a mere Lucario’s livelihood would last against the sea that is the embodiment of time itself? How long do you think you existed as Dialga, compared to anything else?”

It was getting dark. Rhys only felt pain and only heard Dark Matter’s voice. He had given up on moving and struggling long ago. It was easier to focus on breathing. Slow, shallow breaths for that extra iota of air.

“You are nothing. And you will become nothing. I will fill you with so much darkness that it will carry into Dialga, corrupting him from the inside. He will kill everyone.”

So that was his plan… and Rhys couldn’t stop it. In, out. Breathe. He could only mitigate it. Endure this torture and make sure his other half, his greater half, would endure as well.

“There it is…” Dark Matter was close to him. Rhys could feel the cold touch of death sweeping over his decaying body. “You humans from other worlds. I could never feel that negativity. But now that your spirit is between my fingers… I finally can feel the darkness consuming you. That is the despair I have been waiting for…”

Somehow, it was peaceful. In, out. Breathe.

“Are you listening to me?” He squeezed.

In… out. Breathe.

“Answer.” Dark Matter’s breath rotted part of Rhys’ one remaining ear.

Rhys wasn’t sure why, but he complied. Perhaps there was nothing better to do. “Even if I fall, my team… my students… my family… will defeat you. And for that…” Rhys felt lighter. “I am satisfied.”

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He was fading in and out. But Dark Matter didn’t answer quickly. Was he walking? Was he preparing the final blow? A small part of Rhys was waiting for it. Anticipating, almost hoping for release. How far he’d fallen.

“I feel your fear,” Dark Matter said. “You cannot hide it from me.”

“Yet… you cannot feel the rest,” Rhys replied. He tried to laugh, but he didn’t have the energy. But there was an ember of defiance that kept him going for one last taunt. “Go on. Finish what you started, demon. It will be your final victory.”

Rhys smirked. Little images flitted through his mind. Hazy ones. Owen, smiling, holding up the Hearts’ badges. Demitri, Mispy, and Gahi turning in yet another outlaw. Elder, in his thoughts, in his dreams, and finally in person. He lingered on the Torkoal for a while, praying that, if any part of him would persist in Dialga, it would be to wish him well. He saw hazy figures of humans… Was that his family, of the world he’d left behind? It had been so long, yet perhaps that was the clearest he’d ever remembered them.

He envisioned his team leaving Hot Spot with all he’d left behind. The power deep underneath Hot Spot, waiting to revitalize whoever would take it. Dark Matter could not feel hope; he would never know the truth of what Rhys felt. He’d lost against Dark Matter, but it would guarantee the victory of his new family in the future.

This, he knew.

Even as Dark Matter pumped him with so much corrosive energy that he could only feel that infinite void closing around him, Rhys clung onto those memories. Dark Matter snarled at him, and Rhys only smiled. He couldn’t see very well, but Dark Matter was getting frustrated. His corruption wasn’t working. That was truly his goal, wasn’t it? And in the end, Rhys would not give it to him. He never would.

Even as he took his last breath, Rhys had won.
 
Chapter 123 - Grasping at Gold

Namohysip

Dragon Enthusiast
Staff
Partners
  1. flygon
  2. charizard
  3. milotic
  4. zoroark-soda
  5. sceptile
  6. marowak
  7. jirachi
Chapter 123 – Grasping at Gold

Owen had enough time to launch two Radiant Beams—attack names he coined—at incoming Titans. The first was on the advancing Giratina, this time so thoroughly that it seemed to take her down completely. There was a rumble from most of its disintegrating body smashing into the dust, but it was softer than expected. Most of the body was already its component Void Shadows, and the core—Giratina herself—was much smaller than the Titan it had once been.

The second Radiant Beam was to that same Titan from before that had gotten even closer, destroying it for a second time. Without a core, the rumble was more like a wash of Void Shadow bodies for the ground troops to take care of with a bombardment of elemental attacks.

Afterward, Alex returned with a team of fliers. Owen wasted no time, and asked the others to hold their ground for as long as they could while he went to the source. In the end, Dark Matter was right. If they continued to play defense, the infinite army would gain more ground. This was when Dark Matter was the least protected, presumably, when he was dedicating resources to offense. It was now or never.

He flew on Alex, who was a slower but safer flier, while Gahi scouted ahead with his speed uninhibited.

Palkia was using what he could of his diminished power to keep an entire side of the town safe, warping swaths of Void Shadows and its accompanying Titan further away, stalling for time.

On the other side, Dialga was slowing the onslaught in the most literal sense, allowing Null Villagers to attack Void Shadows with little fear of a counter. They were even knocked back in slow-motion.

“Let’s keep going,” Owen said quietly. “It’s a risk, but… But we have to try.” He held onto Gahi’s shoulders, looking at the others who had come with him. Alex was opposite from them, along with Eon, who took the form of another Alex. Owen suspected that Eon wanted to replicate a Charizard form, but in the heat of battle, wasn’t able to concentrate enough. He’d shifted through countless forms while battling, and his mind was frazzled. Flying behind Alex must have been his attempt at keeping focus on a single, stable form.

On the ground, Zena led the charge with Demitri and Mispy. Owen wasn’t sure where Trina had gone, but it was probably someplace safer. She couldn’t fight in that state. He wasn’t sure where Jerry had gone, but he was still fighting with the others to the west; maybe they’d pass by on the way.

Owen had to be at the Tree in order to help it charge at its best, but the Tree could charge on his own, too. Just slower. They had enough power for one charge in case of an emergency, but really, if they could attack Dark Matter directly while his army was pressing inward, that could turn the tides. And that was Owen’s ultimate goal. Defy Dark Matter’s predictions of huddling by the Tree… and lash out into the heart of his domain.

The plan sounded so obvious when he laid it out to them. Perhaps that was why they were eager to put it in motion. Owen only hoped it would be as simple in practice.

“We need to clear the way fer the ground,” Gahi said, like he was reciting something told to him. “How’re we gonna do that?”

Below and ahead, Null Villagers were holding back a thick sea of wraiths that spilled over the corners of ruined houses and through the once beautiful, if not dreary, streets. He couldn’t recognize the district anymore; they were ruins flooded with black, squirming waters.

They were just about to breach the blurry line that delimited the Null Villagers and the Void Shadows. Then, a horrid roar caught their attention.

“What?” Owen winced. Even as a Charmeleon, it shook his chest.

Something was wrong with Dialga.

He was crouched down as the cyan lines along his body pulsed with a deep red instead. Lines of darkness flowed like blood through that scaly armor.

“What happened?!” Owen looked at the Tree, which was starting to glow brighter.

Something’s wrong with Dialga! Owen called. Aim at him… in case he’s Voiding somehow!

Dialga didn’t seem to be doing anything, but Void Shadows were advancing without his support.

But what about the other Titans?! Amelia called, and the Tree’s branches seemed to be denser toward the advancing, southern side of town. Only then did Owen realize how many of their perimeters were dwindling. There was no longer a defined point where the Null Villagers were actively fighting off their foe. They were falling back toward the Tree. Just like Dark Matter had predicted.

I… I mean… Owen bit his tongue. On one hand, they needed to get to Dark Matter. On the other, if they left now, with Dialga losing it to some strange corruption and the Titans on other corners advancing… Would there be anything left when they won?

They couldn’t lose the Tree.

Owen suddenly couldn’t feel Alex beneath him. “B—huh?! W-wait!”

He was flying, held under the arms by a speedy Flygon. “Gahi?!”

“You can purify Dialga, yeah?”

“I can, but—”

“Then let’s do it quick! OI! You guys go ahead!” Gahi shouted back when he spotted them trying to follow.

“G-go on ahead! We can catch up!” Owen confirmed, still unsure of the plan. But Gahi had already set his mind to it; there was no stopping him now. He figured that was natural for the living aspect of willpower.

In seconds, they approached Dialga. There was a strange wave of energy around him and Owen had a feeling it was some attempt to slow their movement… but Gahi was still too fast. Maybe he was ignoring it entirely; he couldn’t tell. The light warped around them, and Dialga was instantly a lot closer.

“Your Teleports are gonna make me sick,” Owen complained.

“Yer fine,” Gahi dismissed, disappearing again before landing on Dialga’s back.

The darkening Legend roared and tried to buck Gahi off, but he flew again and avoided most of the turbulence. Owen could see it—Shadows dancing around Dialga’s scales, coursing through his spirit.

“I need to touch him,” Owen said, coating one hand in a golden Protect.

“Go fast.”

Dialga crouched down, growling. “Kill… kill me… before I…!”

“Nah,” Gahi shouted. He slammed Owen onto Dialga’s back.

“Ow,” Owen grunted, but clutched at any purchase he could make. His illuminated hand dug at two tough, steel scales, while his other hand grasped a piece of armor near Dialga’s tail, and Gahi kept his wings spread wide.

“RRRRAAAAAGH!”

Owen’s instincts screamed to defend. He tensed his whole body, envisioning it crossing his arms, and a golden barrier appeared around him. Gahi’s hold was ripped away, leaving massive claw marks in Owen’s shoulders that earned an audible gasp, but that was all. He’d stayed put.

He couldn’t hear over the sudden cacophony of stone grinding and wind blowing. He was weightless, and then everything was heavier. Dark blotches danced above him. By the time it was quiet again, his barrier had been covered in light debris and stones, and he felt like he’d fallen several feet. Dialga must have collapsed.

“Gahi—?”

He was tumbling away limply, caught by one of the other fliers, trying to talk to him. Gahi was unresponsive, so they flew him to the Tree next. All around him, entire buildings had collapsed, and he could see unmoving bodies of wraiths and villagers alike among it. The wraiths, less durable, all looked dead and motionless. Some of the rubble was moving, though, and villagers were trying to get up. Not all of them, though, and Owen’s chest tightened.

“Rrrrrgh…”

Owen pressed hard against Dialga’s back, channeling more of that energy inside. He closed his eyes, searching for something. He envisioned a flame in his mind, but then saw it covered in an inky black film. With his mind’s hands, he reached toward it and pulled away. Embers puttered out from the gaps he’d made. He pulled more, feeling tired, those hands dissolving from overextension.

There was so much. What was this darkness? How did it get inside Dialga so easily, when he had been fighting so well seconds prior? He couldn’t… get rid of it. There was too much. And soon, Owen’s energy started to ebb.

Press on.

Something pushed Owen’s mental presence closer. Without thinking, he followed the order.

Don’t forget to breathe. Meditate. In, out.

The voice was distant. It sounded like it was coming from inside the flame… So familiar. But it was fading, too, becoming part of it.

Very good. That will… do…

Owen gasped, returning to consciousness. Someone had called him, but who? Not important, no time. Instead, he called, Is Gahi okay?

He’s healing at the tree,
Amelia said, But I think he’s out of commission for a while…

As long as he’s okay. Keep him safe.

You will.
Amelia left Owen at that, and he turned his attention to Dialga, who stirred.

“Rrgh…”

The distortion in his voice was gone. “Dialga, are you okay?”

“I’ve had better days.” His voice was strained, but measured. “Dark Matter… He’s…”

“Stay put, okay? Something tried to corrupt you from within.”

“I see… I don’t feel quite myself…”

“I think I purified you, but you need to get to the Tree to stay safe. Okay?”

“Tree…” Dialga groaned. “Rhys…”

“Rhys? What about Rhys?” Owen asked.

“Dark Matter… fought him. I saw it in a vision… I… You must find him. He’s in danger…” Dialga was dazed again. “I can’t remember…”

Owen scaled his neck and waved to get his attention, then pointed at the Tree. “I’ll handle it. Go to the Tree. There, okay? Fly there. And—and I need to catch up to the others.”

“Right. Right… I’ll help.”

“No, I don’t have the time for—”

“I am time.”

Owen stuttered when a wave of energy made his feathers puff out, an odd tingle electrifying his body.

“This will last for a while. Take advantage of it while you can… My powers are still weak.”

“What?”

But Dialga was slowly, slowly, rising to his feet. And Owen realized that it wasn’t just Dialga, but everyone. Wingbeats moved at a pace far too slowly to stay in the air. The Titans, slow already, moved even slower.

Far west, Alex was still flying out of the perimeter. Zena’s squad was just behind them.

“Go,” Dialga said, immune to its effects enough to speak, before he resumed his slow ascent.

“Th-thank you.” Owen hopped off and sprinted down the road.

Everything was too quiet. He didn’t like that. It felt like his breaths were echoing in that empty moment. There were two guards clashing against a giant Void Shadow, not a Titan, but certainly many of them merged into one. To Owen’s horror, he realized they resembled mutants. Rage bubbled inside him at the reminder that Nevren’s tactics caused this.

He sidestepped a downward slash aimed at him. It moved at mere inches per second. Owen took an extra breath to swipe under the semi-Titan’s legs. They felt nearly immovable; something about Dialga’s enchantments made it harder for Owen to interact with the rest of the world thoroughly. Even the air seemed thicker, unless it was a trick of the mind.

Down the road, he locked eyes with Marshadow, who had a grave look on his face. Owen knew what that meant—new orders. He wouldn’t be able to escape him this time, and Marshadow wouldn’t hesitate.

It felt like he still had ample time with Dialga’s blessing. He had to slow Marshadow down again. The tiny ghost disappeared into the ground, and Owen saw the details of what gestures he made to swim through the ground before he was hidden from sight.

As Owen ran, he flicked his wrists, forming spheres of plant matter and infusing them with explosive energy. He tossed one in the air tentatively. It slowed down rapidly the moment it got too far away from him.

Perfect.

Marshadow emerged from the ground for an uppercut. Owen weaved around it like he was in air and Marshadow was in thick, thick syrup. He focused, some part of this blessing pulling on his instincts. Did some of this enchantment from Dialga also tell him how it worked? He didn’t have time to think about it thoroughly. He followed his instincts. It reminded him of when Tim had helped him learn a technique through technical machines long ago. Maybe this was the same.

He focused, and Marshadow slowed even more, almost to the point where he was standing still. It became a lot harder to breathe and fight against the air itself, but Owen persisted, lobbing Seed Bombs as quickly as he could. Every time they left him by only a few feet, they halted in the air, moving slowly forward.

Exhaustion was getting to him. This would have to be all.

To be absolutely sure, though, he added one final trick. Channeling his inner flame, noticing his leaves turning an even deeper autumn red, he built up a thick glob of black haze in the back of his throat, covered with a thin membrane. He delicately spat it into his hands and tossed it lightly at Marshadow’s feet. Then, he produced a second Smokescreen, but this time threw it directly at Marshadow’s face, just close enough that it exploded and then froze mid-burst as Owen jumped back.

Then, he sidled the edge of the road and continued west.

He felt Dialga’s blessing fading already. But he was more than halfway caught up. Soon, he would be back on track. Distantly, a rapid set of pops and explosions led to Marshadow shouting in surprise.

Dark Matter… this is it, Owen thought, wondering if such thoughts could reach him. I’m coming for you. No more running away.

<><><>​

Perhaps running away is the best option here. Nevren stepped into his room and thought about his options as a storm whirled through the fourth sublevel. Quartz HQ was a lost cause. Lugia was tearing through the underground, Protect-insulated stone like it was made of hay. Nevren couldn’t risk using his Revisor more than necessary unless he wanted to be blasted by shockwaves without the time to recover.

He considered using those shockwaves to strike Lugia when she was vulnerable, but the logistics weren’t sound. That would have required timing himself and others being next to her for any point in time, or in her path of destruction. It simply wasn’t an option.

Several mutants tried attacking her, too. Nevren didn’t know what happened to them. But he’d never seen them afterward.

“GRAAAAAGH!”

That was louder than before. Closer. Was she already on the same sublevel?

Nevren jumped out of his room and saw dark wisps of wind cutting the walls, corroding the material. The walls were dimmer, too, suggesting the Protect insulation had already been siphoned away.

An Ursaring with a Scizor’s pincers launched a powerful Hyper Beam down the hall, striking something. A low rumble—no, that was a growl—made the fusion stand down. He and the fusion shared a glance. Nevren saw the fear in his eyes.

A spiraling blast of darkness sailed through the hall, and Nevren only saw the first instants of the fusion’s body being knocked away and out of his view. Then, the air seemed to go in a different direction, instead of toward the blast, backwards. Drawing toward Lugia. Nevren felt a light tugging at his chest from a great hand that wasn’t there and clutched his heart.

“Ngh—”

Two blue embers flew from where that fusion had been blasted. Nevren sensed a wave of panic from those two embers, but they were helpless in the wind tunnel. He could Teleport to try to grab them, but would that do anything? Too great a risk. Those two were now casualties.

Nevren disappeared backwards and felt that pull on his chest weaken.

At least now he knew where those mutants that fought her had gone. Curiosity satisfied.

Lugia was gathering spirits like a Guardian would. Was that making her stronger? Was she drawn to Quartz HQ because of all the enhanced spirits within? Or was there a concentration of them—

The generator!

But that was powering everything. The Beammaker, the Voidlands portal, the facility as a whole… But if he took that away, drew Lugia away, maybe they could repair it.

As it stood, nothing could be restored if Lugia got to the generator. That concentrated gem of souls would only be a boon to her. With a few desperate Teleports, Nevren fled to the deepest floor of Quartz HQ. The dim, flickering lights of the empty Reincarnation Machine repositories, unused for months, led the way to the end of the great room. He opened the generator, where the souls inside were still bright. Lavender was the one who knew how to speak to these; he did not. But he knew they could hear him.

“It is time for an evacuation,” Nevren said. “Stay with me for now, yes?” He reached inside and pried the gem away, stowing it in the bag over his shoulder. All around him, the downward hum of countless machines shutting down echoed. The lights went out, so Nevren lit the way with some pink psionics.

By now, the rest of their army had either been sent into the Voidlands or were taken by Lugia. He could afford to close the portal. If some hadn’t gone through, well, they were late. And tardiness now was not his problem.

After putting away the gem of spirits, Nevren pulled out that energized rifle and waited a few moments to gauge how far away Lugia was. The rumbles were stronger, and she would probably try to investigate until she could no longer sense these gems. He wouldn’t know for sure… but he wasn’t going to risk himself here.

He took aim ahead and fired. The white sphere in the chamber shot out and detonated a few feet ahead, expanding into a large, white circle. The circle faded and revealed the ground level of a dreary place covered in thick tree roots—the base of Null Village.

Upon stepping through, he flipped the switch on the rifle and the portal closed. The white energy siphoned back into the chamber. “Test two,” he said, and fired again. The same portal appeared in the same spot he’d once left. That wasn’t ideal, because he didn’t want to go back to Quartz HQ, but it was a start. And if he fired again from somewhere else in Kilo, that would be the new drop off point.

“Hm? Why, hello.”

A deep voice greeted Nevren and he spun on his heel. “Ah.”

It was Palkia, tilting his head. “You must be Nevren.”

“Indeed. A pleasure to see you in a non-wraith form.”

“Oh, do we appear that way, truly? Fascinating.”

“Fascinating indeed.” Nevren liked this one. “I had to evacuate from Quartz HQ due to Lugia attacking.”

“Lugia? That could be troublesome.”

“Valuables have been removed, mostly,” Nevren said, flashing the spirit gem. “With this gem free, I do not think she will be advancing further inside, for now.”

“Very good, very good. What is your next move?” Palkia asked, tilting his head. “Quartz HQ is lost. But I believe the battle in Hot Spot is raging on. As is the battle here. Will you fight?”

“I will. Could you take me to the rift in the sky that leads to Hot Spot? I have… an idea I would like to attempt.”

“Well, certainly.” Palkia almost snapped his claws, but then paused. “How good are you at falling?”

“Somewhat above average.”

“That should do.”

In a flash, Nevren disappeared through a distortion behind him, and then re-emerged with the portal to Hot Spot’s sky just behind him. A final wave of energy pushed him out, and he Teleported the rest of the way, offsetting himself in the cold late-autumn breeze until he saw Hot Spot below.

What startled him was the sudden onslaught of attacks. Flames, ice, and water were first, followed by an even faster arc of electricity that spiraled around all of it. He disappeared in a flash of light, but mistakenly fell into a Flamethrower, Hissing, reflexes took over, and he squeezed the Revisor.

Nothing changed except for a gust of wind all around him, as if he’d been bombarded by air. He went into a disorienting spin, burning, as he tried to press the Revisor again to no luck. It had run out of energy.

“How—”

No time. He forced his hand below himself and channeled some Psychic energy to soften his landing. An ill-defined bubble separated him from the ground, cushioning him before the force was too much. Most of the impact was dulled, but he still knocked his head against the dirt and tumbled along the road, wheezing. His fingers still pressed against the Revisor uselessly.

Vines wrapped around him, thorny and prodding at his skin. He winced, trying to pull free, but that only made the pain worse.

“…Nevren?”

Was that Mispy’s voice? That should be impossible… “Mispy?”

The vines tightened, but only slightly. “Ani,” she corrected grimly.

“Ah…” He didn’t know who that was. Perhaps another model based on Mispy.

To his relief, a wave of healing energy eased his headache and most of his burns. He sighed and, once his vision cleared, was still confused at the fact that he was certainly looking at Mispy and, just behind her, Demitri, Gahi, and—well, that certainly wasn’t right. “Owen?”

The Charizard couldn’t seem to use his right arm, which was hanging limply by his side. With his left, he pointed at Nevren and growled, “No. I’m the fake you created out of his memories. Nice to meet you again, Dad.”

“Ah…” He remembered that, a little. Just some Psychic trickery, a stray feral soul without any real identity, and the Reincarnation Machine… Such an easy thing to create, once the theory was put to practice. It really was a shame that Eon discontinued it after the first successful run. Perhaps, with him gone, he could try again …

“Hey,” Har snapped him back to attention. “Why are you here? I thought you were at Quartz.”

“Well, yes, I was. Unfortunately, Lugia attacked it and I had to abandon it.” He sighed. “What’s going on here? Why was I attacked?”

“They, uh, thought you were a wraith,” Ax said. “Sorry about that. But you came straight out of the portal!”

Nevren noticed that there was something beside Ax leaving a long trail in the dirt. “…Is that Valle?”

The statue had been dragged all the way out of Hot Spot. Mispy—no, Ani had several bags of supplies tucked under her vines, too. “The recovery team,” he murmured. “Then those are the supplies in Rhys’ room? And Valle as well?” He nodded. “Return to Kilo Village at once. And—did Rhys go on ahead to send word?”

Har looked pained while a dark expression crossed the other three.

“Where is Rhys?” Nevren asked.

“D-Dark Matter threw him into the Dungeon Core,” Har said. “We tried to fight, but he was too strong, and… and we had to flee. He didn’t chase us…”

“You left Rhys behind?” Nevren asked, his breath quickening. “Where is he now?”

“In the Core, so, probably whatever’s… on the other side.”

The rumbling of battle, elements and darkness sailing over them, felt quiet and insignificant for the briefest moment. A thousand jumbled thoughts raced through Nevren’s mind as his expression remained stoic. Several times, he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. He couldn’t recall several of his thoughts. He only saw Rhys laughing across the table at a little joke he’d once said. He couldn’t remember what it was.

“Yes, well.” He nodded. “Then you must—hold, please.” Nevren realized a way he could check. Arceus, have you been in contact with Rhys?

No. Where are you? Your message feels like it isn’t coming from Quartz.

I took a portal to Hot Spot. Contact Rhys.

Of course. I will get back to you.


Nevren didn’t wait. “Go back to Kilo Village with your supplies. Deliver them to Heart HQ, and then return with more supplies for the fighters in Hot Spot. We will be performing an all-out assault.”

“Wh—already? Now? Why?”

“I saw… the status of the battle in the land beyond the Dungeons. We cannot afford to give Dark Matter more time. We will press our resources now to strike. Go!”

Thankfully, they were still obedient by nature, and despite whatever petty bitterness they held toward him, the quartet left with the supplies and Valle in tow.

Nevren rubbed his head, his wounds still aching. He looked at the sky, at the portal. So, his Revisor also failed if he hadn’t spent the full moment in Kilo, even if he ended it there. It couldn’t send him back into the Voidlands. So exciting! Not even a quarter of the day and he made two marvelous discoveries with his tools!

He mentally pocketed that information for later. Now, he had a different plan in mind. Arceus, are you there? Nevren asked. I have another idea. Where does your energy for Judgement come from?

Where? Well, as a god, I conjure it from the spiritual planes…

Is it a finite resource?

No.

But it is a strain to repeatedly blast?

Yes, somewhat. The act of transferring that energy into the physical world strains my physical body.

I see.
Nevren felt so devilish! I have a plan.

<><><>​

A vortex to the north, a spire of darkness to the south, and a storm to the east. The world really was coming to an end, and Angelo was watching it helplessly from the center of town.

Tanneth was screaming nonsense in the hospital with Leo, and Angelo hadn’t known if he wanted to get involved in any of that. His conscience had gotten the better of him, though, and he walked through the halls and toward the cries.

“What’s going on?” he called tiredly. “D-do you need—”

It was quite a scene. Furniture upturned, bedsheets burned or torn, the remnants of a few elemental attacks on the otherwise reinforced walls… Leo, that manic Delphox, was tied with flameproof rope in a nearby chair, but he could tell that his claws were already getting through the last of it. Tanneth, that frightened Vaporeon, was being wrestled to the ground by the Incineroar nurse, Phol. And then Brandon, the odd steel Machoke, was carrying a large bucket with a lid over it, for some reason, holding it forward like he was about to catch the Vaporeon in it.

Spice, meanwhile, with her eerie green gemstone in her chest and hexagon scales near it, was guarding the entrance in case either of them approached.

“Why are you here?” the wraith-like Salazzle asked him.

“I—I’m sorry!” Angelo peeped. “I th-thought you needed h-help again!”

Spice’s eyes were so different now. Yellow, no pupils, yet somehow it felt like she was glaring at him. He gulped without realizing it, knees shaking.

“Right, I think I know how you can help,” she said calmly. “Go and find—”

“Where is my baby boy?!” a loud, demanding voice hissed from the hall. Angelo turned to see an old Arbok with fading scales slithering their way.

“Tari,” Spice said. “Leo’s this way.”

“Baby boy? Him?” Angelo blinked. An Arbok and Delphox. They were compatible? Angelo never would have guessed. Or maybe it was one of those strange Transfer Orbs made in Kilo; if Leo was a Heart, he definitely could have gotten the funds for one…

Shortly after Tari came in, a Delphox that looked a lot like Leo followed. But she seemed lost, walking carefully and with a long wand in front of her. Angelo hopped out of the way when she rounded the corner.

“Leo?”

“M-Mother?”

And for a brief moment, that manic look in Leo’s eyes vanished.

“You’re here,” Leo breathed out. “Mother! Father! We must go southwest! There is something very important—”

“Gotcha!” Brandon suddenly slammed the large tub over Tanneth, then slid the lit shut. Screams and sloshing came from within, but it was watertight. “Sorry about that, boys ‘n girls, but I kinda had to seize that opportunity. Keep doing whatever you’re doing!” He carried the wobbling tub to the corner of the room, keeping it sealed as Phol dried himself off with a towel and his own flames. He looked fuzzy afterward.

“Aries,” Tari said, “he’s got a crazy look in his eyes! Crazy! He’s been touched by darkness, yep, seen it before!”

“Leo, you must snap out of it.” Aries knelt beside him. She felt the rope around his chair. “What—why are you tied up?”

“They won’t let me go on my mission,” Leo explained. “It’s… I’m sure it’s important.”

“Like I explained before,” Spice said, “Leo got close to Void Basin and it messed him up. Now he feels like he has to go there.” She shook her head. “It’s insane… How can a place twist someone like that so easily? Leo’s…”

“You’re stronger than this!” Tari hissed, coiling around the legs of the chair before staring Leo in the eyes. “Now, you snap outta it!”

“But… but my mission…”

Spice watched with interest, as did Angelo, standing uselessly in the corner. Touched by darkness. Void Basin. Was that the same thing that happened to his grandfather? The fate that the leviathan protecting Kilo had spared his father, by killing him before it could happen? It didn’t seem so bad… Leo just… wanted to go there. And bring his family with him.

What would happen afterward?

…Where did his grandfather go, if dying was a better option? How many others had he taken with him?

“Wait,” Spice whispered. “Keep talking to him.”

Angelo tried to follow where Spice was looking. His bindings were nearly broken, but Leo was no longer trying to break free. Despite what Spice and the others had tried, his father’s words were getting through to him more.

“Leo, please,” Aries said.

“I… the mission…”

“What mission? To protect others? We’re safer in Kilo. You know this.”

“Protect… safer in… Y-yes. But, but I need to…”

“Why, Leo, why?” Aries said. “Tell me exactly why.”

Angelo felt a weak throbbing pain in his forehead. Spice, too, winced and took a few steps back.

“Ugh. Psychics…”

Aries… Was she trying to treat him mentally?

Phol frowned and said, “His ropes are looking nearly broken. Don’t worry. I got a spare…”

“Why is he tied up like this?!” Tari protested. “I say let him go! He’s my boy, he’ll know to handle himself!”

“Untie him and you’re tied into a knot instead,” Phol stated immediately, holding a new length of rope in front of Leo. “Hold still. I’m going to make this one extra tough with some Protect insulation.”

“What? You can do that?” Angelo asked. “Th-that’s incredible!”

“Mmf.” Phol dismissed it with a shrug. “It runs in the family. Easy for us to enchant things this way.” A pulse of gold went from his arms and into the rope, leaving it with a shimmering glow.

“Oh, what a beautiful color,” Angelo said.

“Yeah, real pretty,” Spice mumbled, idly forming her own, black Protect around her fist ruefully.

Leo stiffened. Aries seemed close to calming him down, but the moment that glowing rope got close to him, his eyes were wide with fear again. “G-get that thing away from me!” he shouted, struggling from his binds. “It’s—don’t do it!”

“Hold still,” Phol snapped, wrapping the first coil around his shoulders.

But the moment the golden rope touched Leo, he let out a yelp that deflated into a whimper… and then he went limp.

The shift was so sudden that Phol stopped what he was doing. “Leo?”

“Leo?” Spice went closer. “What did you do?!”

“It’s a rope!” Phol snarled. “What do you think—”

Spice grabbed the rope and immediately screamed like she’d dipped her hands in acid. She hurled it on the ground and fell back, curling into a pained ball as she nursed her hands. They looked like they were evaporating on the palms.

“A-ah! Hang on,” Angelo said quickly. “I’ll—I’ll get you some healing, just give me a moment…” He quickly sketched a pink circle in the air, pointing it at Spice, but she snarled so fiercely that he lost his focus and the circle shattered.

“Just rope? That thing nearly burned my hands off!” And even when she pointed at Phol, her hands were still smoking.

Befuddled, Phol sidestepped Spice and picked the rope up. He was unaffected. Locking eyes with Angelo, he offered one end to him.

Why me? Angelo whimpered, poking it tentatively. Didn’t feel like anything out of the ordinary. Puzzled, he grasped it next. A little rough, definitely uncomfortable to be tied up in, but no searing pain or anything…

“U-urgh…” Leo blinked several times.

“Ah! Leo…” Aries shook him gently. “Are you okay? Leo?”

“Not really,” Leo murmured. “What… was going on with me?”

“Thatta boy!” Tari grinned, thumping his tail on Leo’s back. He then looked smugly at Phol. “Like I said, all he needed was a little pep talk!”

Phol stared at the rope, which was probably miraculous as far as Angelo was concerned, and then at Angelo.

“You,” Phol said.

“Y-yes!”

“I’m going to make more of these ropes. Deliver them to everyone you can. Double-time. Teleport if you have to.”

“Sure?” Angelo looked at Spice, who was still looking at the rope like it would lunge at her.

“I don’t know why, but something dispelled it from Leo and it hurt Spice,” Phol explained, grabbing the final length of rope from the corner of the office. A flood of golden energy went from his arms and into the thick fabric. “Spice looks a lot like those wraiths. What if it helps against them in Hot Spot?”

“Ah!” Angelo perked up. “Y-yes! Okay! Make more! But—why can you do this?”

“I don’t know. Ask around, show them this one.” He tossed the rest of the rope onto Angelo, who nearly collapsed under its weight. “Maybe this can turn the tide in this war. I’m going to contact some of my family; they have the same talent.”

“W-war…” It still made his chest tight. “Okay! I’ll go. I’ll be back as soon as I can!”

Angelo rushed through the hall, sidestepping a mutant Meganium dropping off a Shiftry statue, and into the streets. The wind was picking up from the east, enough that he had to close his eyes when facing that direction.

Was a storm coming?

And then came a cry of some great beast—why were there so many superpowers clashing at once?!—coming from the same direction as the storm. To the southwest, that spire of darkness was still bleeding into the sky. And the end of the world felt like it was a little bit closer. Holding the end of that golden rope, Angelo pressed onward to Heart HQ, ignoring his apprehension as he ascended those cursed steps.

It just occurred to Angelo that Shady was missing.

“What—Shady?” Angelo spun around, but there wasn’t a sign of him at all. Sighing angrily, he marched into the Heart HQ and nearly toppled into a huge Torkoal. “Ah! Oh, I’m—oh! Torkoal! Just the person I was looking—are you okay?”

The large Torkoal seemed low in spirits, somehow. “Oh,” he said quietly, “yes, I’m fine. Sorry. I had… must have not slept well. I have not been feeling well, so suddenly.”

“I’m sorry.” Angelo really could empathize. Speaking softly and erasing any frustration from his tone, he said, “I’ll make this quick.” He held the rope forward. “This rope was imbued with… a golden light. From Phol—er, the Incineroar at the main hospital—he had a golden Protect. He somehow… blessed this rope with that same aura. And when it touched Leo, who was under some dark influence, it instantly cured him. What if this does damage to the Void Shadows?”

The Torkoal leader nodded and, despite his dampened spirits, said, “Oh, yes, yes! I think I see… Yes, I’m quite good at these same blessings, actually. If I had put myself into practice more, perhaps I could even rival Anam. Oho…” The laugh seemed forced. “Thank you, Smeargle. I know just who to contact. You may leave it with me.”

Angelo was about to, but then recalled how slow their temporary leader was, now that Rhys was off on his mission, Anam and James were missing, and Nevren was… Well, he didn’t really know either. Off experimenting somewhere even when the world was ending, apparently.

“Er,” Angelo interjected, “why don’t I walk it somewhere else? You can… make more, right?”

“Oh, yes, I can…” Torkoal tilted his head. “Is something the matter?”

“No, it’s just on the way,” Angelo lied. “I’ll bring it to one of the fliers. How about that?”

“Ah. Yes, okay. Ohoho, then again, perhaps I would have been too slow anyway…”

Angelo nodded politely and jogged back down the stairs, nearly tripping when the ground rumbled again. This time it was from Nate shifting his weight around the mountain, raising his whole body up—that was an unusual, rare movement from him.

Shady…

Nate seemed bigger than usual. In fact, all of those odd, many-eyed, shapeless things had disappeared. Was Nate gathering them up again? For what?

Getting hasty, Angelo drew a portal in front of him and slipped through it, reappearing far down the street. He happened to spot a speedy, sleek-looking Flygon and shouted for his attention, waving his arms before handing off the rope and saying to deliver it to the enchantment division.

“Okay. By the way, can you help out in the hospital?”

Gods, all the favors. “Okay. What’s going on?”

A high-pitched wail echoed from the hospital from far away, followed by a blast of water breaking one of the windows.

“That.” And without further explanation, Flygon dashed away. Before Angelo got his first word out, he had already crossed the street and flew several blocks away, heading south with a few notes in his claws.

“Everything’s happening so quickly,” Angelo said, jogging to the hospital, where he saw the metallic Machoke, Spice, Leo, and his parents all trying to pin down a leaking and overturned bucket.

From within the bucket, Vaporeon screamed. “I NEED TO GO! I NEED TO GO! SHE’S COMING!”

“Who?!” Machoke snarled, tapping the bucket, irate. “Who’s coming? Speak! Words! Use words!”

Words weren’t going to help. Angelo hastily drew a flower in the air with hovering ink, then tapped the petals. It bloomed, producing a fragrant, calming aroma that even helped take the edge off for the Smeargle himself.

“H-hey, hey, hey,” Angelo said between her screams. “It’s okay. Take deep, calm breaths, okay? Can, um, can you do that for me?”

She didn’t at first, but the Aromatherapy was doing some of the work just with her short gasps. But her eyes were still wide with fear, from the glances Angelo got when the bucket nearly tipped open. The struggling slowed.

“…If you don’t run, we’ll help you with whatever you’re afraid of. Okay?”

“No. I have to run,” Vaporeon said. “E-Emily… L-Lugia. I remember. I r-remember… She tried to absorb me. B-because… because she’s… me. We’re the same… T-two halves. We’re two halves a-and we both didn’t remember. Please… I have to get away. If we combine, she’ll… Please! You have to take me far… far away before she destroys Kilo!”

“…The city, the region, or the planet?” Angelo asked.

“All of it!”

“Guess that’s a yes.” Machoke tapped a finger to his chin.

Spice, once Vaporeon was calm enough, rose from the bucket. “Away. How far away are we talking?”

“As f-far as we need to…”

Phol glanced at Angelo.

The Smeargle tensed instantly. “Don’t give me that look!”

“You are one of the best Pokémon at running away from danger,” Phol said. From anyone else it may have been an insult, but Angelo oddly felt that it hadn’t been one from him. “You need to do this.”

“Alone?” Spice asked.

“We’ll help,” Leo said, nodding.

“Leo, you aren’t.”

“I’m fine now,” Leo said with a more serious look. He stared directly at Spice. “Really.”

For a few seconds, they maintained that stare down. Then, with an uncertain growl, Spice nodded.

“Leo…” His mother walked to him, reaching for his hand, which Leo obliged.

“I will be fine. This will just be to defend Angelo. We already have the supplies.”

“Y’know.” Machoke casually pointed at Angelo. “I’ll come with. Figure you can use some demigod strength, too. In case we need to fend her off, or whatever. Are you sure Emily will leave the city alone if you go?”

“I think so. Please, hurry…” Vaporeon nodded. “I feel her… She’s lost it!”

Angelo slipped out from the hospital to check outside again. The ground was still shaking with weak tremors; Nate seemed restless…

“Oh.” So that was why.

The leviathan was staring eastward, where the clouds were getting darker. From the center of that storm there was a large, distant figure. Twisters spun around and tore up the ground below; tiny dots that Angelo realized were trees twirled in the sky like batons. And Nate was about to fight her.

Angelo wasn’t sure if there would be a village to return to.
 
Chapter 124 - Father and Son

Namohysip

Dragon Enthusiast
Staff
Partners
  1. flygon
  2. charizard
  3. milotic
  4. zoroark-soda
  5. sceptile
  6. marowak
  7. jirachi
Chapter 124 – Father and Son

“So, Rhys is in trouble with Dark Matter as we speak?” Alex asked as they flew over the last part of town, with Zena and the others finding an opening in the chaos to keep up. It wasn’t at its thickest yet.

“That’s what Dialga told me,” Owen explained. “I don’t have a lot of power left, but it’s going to be enough for what I need to do.”

“And that is to confront Dark Matter directly, I presume?” Alex asked, humming anxiously. “I hope it’s enough…”

“I think it will. A-at least, once Dark Matter weakens, I’m… I’m going to have to trust that everyone else will know what to do. I have a feeling that the others are about to do an assault at the same time.”

“You’ve been running on feelings a lot,” Eon commented from behind. “Are you sure this isn’t just one big assumption?”

“It isn’t. I planned this. We’re coordinating with the spirits right now. I mean, I’m coordinating.”

Eon gave Owen an odd look. The false Hydreigon’s scales turned green and he stiffened, focusing until his colors returned to normal.

“Uh, careful,” Owen said. “Focus on that form.”

“Right, sorry.”

Owen wondered why his body was so unstable. It hadn’t been like that before the war…

“Do we need to time anything?” Alex asked.

“Just keep at full speed for now.”

Alex looked down, all three heads’ expressions contorted with worry. “It’s getting thick. I don’t think we can have Zena and the others follow us safely at this rate.”

“Right.” Owen looked behind, where indeed, they were slowing down against the Void Shadows that were closing in on them. “Time for the first part of my plan, then. Veer left so you’re lined up with Zena and the others!”

Alex obeyed, as did Eon. It was a little awkward to look behind to see them, now, but then the Tree glowed brightly.

“Um, is it supposed to do that?” Alex asked.

“Yep. Close your eyes, by the way.”

“Wh—”

Owen did so first, but even then, he saw the shadows of his leafy feathers through his eyelids and felt the tingling heat of another Radiant Beam carving a line across the ruins of Null Village. The deafening, burning roar started from behind, and then sailed far, far ahead, cutting a path five streets wide and disintegrating the countless Void Shadows along the way. It left behind a deep, hot, and glowing ground that the Void Shadows couldn’t tread, at least for a little while. It went all the way into the forest, too, destroying the trees and creating a new, Radiant flatland.

“Follow that path!” Owen shouted, looking down to see if Zena, Demitri, and Mispy were doing so. They caught on fast; the trio was already on the way, and, during their traveling, it seemed like they had found a new mode of travel.

“Hey, look at them!” Owen cried with a laugh. “That’s amazing!”

Taking inspiration from Step’s strategies, Zena had formed a platform of constantly-reforming water and froze it with Ice Beams. Demitri, wielding stone slabs that he’d picked up from town, slammed them into the ground and pushed them forward at incredible speeds. Mispy steadied their movement, steering with long, thorny vines and precise slams against the ground. Zena, meanwhile, conjured water ahead of them, creating a slick surface.

Based on how Mispy was murmuring to Demitri, the Meganium had been the one to come up with the idea.

“How far away is Dark Matter?” Alex asked as they flew over the new flatlands.

Owen focused. If he knew where Dark Matter was, then Dark Matter knew the same for him. But at this point, he had to set aside his fears and his caution—something that his foe took full advantage of—to press against those expectations. Dark Matter set himself up to be an invincible foe, to the point where he hadn’t even thought to raise a claw against him. That was how hopelessly strong he was. Dark Matter’s sheer confidence—no, not confidence, but cold, factual statements—made Owen think that there truly was no point in fighting.

But now, he wondered if that had all been one great deception from the start.

“We’re almost there,” Owen finally reported. “We just need to fly for a few more minutes.”

“Minutes?” Alex repeated.

“Er, a few hundred more seconds. Three hundred or so.”

“Oh! That’s not far at all.”

“Let’s keep up the pace while we have that path the Tree made for us intact.”

“Of course.”

They flew for some time without incident, to their fortune. Even in the air, the residual radiant power was keeping the flying Void Shadows away. Owen wondered if Amia was okay, and if that blast bothered her at all. She wasn’t in this district, obviously, and had been evacuated deeper into town. Still… He worried. They could still restore her, right?

He still hadn’t told Alex. How could he? Not now. He would get… distracted.

It was nice, though, to be so close to him again. After all that happened, this sense of normalcy with his father was… good.

Briefly, Owen found the opportunity to smile. “Hey, um. Dad?”

“Yes?”

“…You didn’t even… hesitate much, you know, on going with me, when I asked.”

“You seem to know what you’re doing,” Alex said. “After everything that’s happened, don’t I owe you that much? And, besides… There’s something about you, Owen. You seem to know just how to counter these wraiths. How do you know it so well?”

“Experience,” Owen said. “Came with some of my memories.”

“Experience?” Alex frowned. “What do you mean? I know there used to be wraiths inside Dungeons before Anam blessed them, but…”

“…Dad?” Owen pivoted. “How long ago did you meet Mom?”

“Oh. Well, goodness. Centuries ago. Before your time… or so I thought. Owen, just how old are you?”

“Uh.” He wasn’t really sure. “So. Okay, so. I’m actually—so, you, the…” Words, Owen, words. “I’m older than Kilo.” Good words. “But, so, what all this is about… I wanted to know about the Fire Orb. Mom said that one day, she planned to pass it down to me, like it was a Fire tradition. Ghrelle said the same thing, that it used to be part of a Hydreigon family line, right? What… does that mean?”

Alex seemed tense, maybe distracted by Owen’s age, but he answered eventually. “I’ll tell you the short version. We don’t have much time, do we?”

Indeed, they were getting closer to the forest edge, where the Radiant Beam’s influence waned.

“Before Kilo was unified, there was a dominating force in the southern region that was ruled by the Fire Guardian… M-my father. Obviously, I wasn’t fond of talking about him. And he was dead, so there was no need, either. I’d rather not speak ill of the dead, after all. And I only had ill to say.”

That, he could understand. “It’s okay. I’m not mad you kept it from me or anything. I, er, I know you guys did that a lot, but this one makes sense…”

After all, nobody really knew the Voidlands existed. Not even Star or Barky, apparently…

“Thank you,” Alex said, looking guilty all over again anyway.

Owen sighed, patting his shoulder. “Keep going.”

“R-right. Well, there was a bit of a… strange event that took place in the past that had to do with an upheaval. A power shift that just… changed everything one day. It’s odd. I don’t really know why Amia’s clan was afraid of us when they simply have the Fairy element on their side. Yet one day, they simply realized this and…” He shook his head. “Well. It’s all the past, now. Where is Amia, anyway? Is she alright?”

Nope. He wasn’t going to answer that directly. “She’s hiding in one of the buildings,” he quickly said. “She can’t fight.”

“Ah. Okay.” Alex nodded. There was doubt in his eyes. “I’ll… Yes. We should focus on this for now.”

While looking away in an effort to avoid Alex’s gaze, Owen spotted something on the horizon that made his heart drop: another Hydreigon.

And he froze. It would have been nice to have Dialga’s blessing again so he had more time to think. That was undoubtedly him. Alexander. And the very sight shook some memory in the depths of Owen’s mind that he didn’t even know about.

“It’s him!” Owen blurted. “A-and he’s…”

He had reinforcements. Behind Alexander was Aster, that same Mewtwo who had tried to apprehend him before. On Alexander’s back was a small, green—Mhynt. She looked so much like Remi. And most surprising, something Owen still couldn’t totally understand, was another Arceus. Smaller than Barky, perhaps half his size if Owen remembered correctly, and lither in frame. Another Arceus. Barky’s daughter? When? How? For what purpose?

But an instant later, a lightning-fast beam of darkness struck Alex square in the chest. He cried out in pain, tumbled through the air, and flung Owen far through the skies.

“DAD!” Owen cried, flailing.

“Get him!” Alexander snarled.

A rush of activity followed. While flipping in the skies, Owen caught glimpsers of Aster appearing in front of him, but then a reddish-black burst of energy from Alex blotted out the sky. Dark Pulse? Alex had regained his composure mid-fall! But it wasn’t anything to Aster. It only startled him. Owen stabilized himself in the air, getting a better look at the battle while he was falling.

Next came something grayish-white as his vision cleared. The Arceus? She flew toward Owen next, and a telekinetic grip held Owen in place, halting his fall but also his escape. There was a mournful look in her eyes and it looked like she was deliberately approaching slower than she could have.

Aster was holding off Alex and the others of their flying squadron while Alexander came up from behind and shoved past Leph. Mhynt was on his back and she was clutching a dead Honedge, her blade, eyeing Alexander at first, and then Owen. She gripped her blade tighter, and then raised it. Owen nearly gasped, but then icy shards smacked Alexander on the side.

Rather than look hurt in any way, he snarled and glanced at the offender. A Corviknight was flying an oversized, blue Sandslash toward them.

“I thought he was your servant,” Alexander snarled. Owen wasn’t sure what that meant; were their suspicions right after all?

“He’s resisting,” Mhynt replied, pointing at Hakk, who fired another volley of ice at Mhynt. She switched her stance and slashed the ice away. “Leave!”

“How about no?!” Hakk snarled. “Get away from our one ticket outta here!”

Mhynt wasn’t controlling Hakk. But was she faking it? What did that mean?

“Leph!” Alexander snarled.

“What?!” Leph shouted back.

“Kill them.”

Leph hesitated, but the chain in her back was pulled taut and she winced. She stared at Hakk and the wheel around her torso brightened… and then dimmed. From Alexander’s back, Mhynt was making odd motions with her free hand while concentrating on Leph.

Owen thought that Leph’s distractedness would disrupt her telekinetic hold over him, but any attempts to move were met with insurmountable resistance. He glanced at the Tree, wondering if he should use his shot… No, not yet. He needed time, and only enough for one more…

“What are you doing?!” Alexander said, yanking on the chains enough that something audibly cracked from Leph, who screamed.

“I’m t-trying!” Leph cried.

“I’ll do it!” Aster disappeared toward Alex after kicking Eon away, who wasn’t effective in the air. He had to concentrate too much on maintaining his form, Owen suspected; he was too sluggish in battle.

Aster lunged forward more, but then yelped and fell back when the chains in his shoulders kept him firmly near Alexander. He tried to speak but even his jaws were locked shut. He tried to channel flames into his fists instead, anything to fight back… The radiance from the blast was fading. They were running out of time.

“Don’t stray!” Alexander hissed at Aster, yanking him back.

“F-father!” Alex shouted. “It… it really is you. It… oh.”

Owen had heard a flame of defiance in Alex’s voice, but that was short-lived, possibly when Alex realized just what he’d done.

Alexander was bigger, with darker scales and a more intense face, like his scaly brow was permanently creased with anger. His teeth were bigger and dripped with a thin, dark film of shadowy energy. Bigger wings, darker wings, and an aura of power that practically twisted and darkened the air around him like an invisible flame.

“…You.”

He didn’t command Leph to do anything, but Hakk and Xypher were looking for an opening. Yet, they seemed so insignificant to Alexander, who was paying them no mind.

“Yes. Me.” Alex stiffened, drifting back when Alexander advanced. “And here I thought you were dead. No, you’re just here…”

“What is your name?” Alexander said.

Owen blinked. What? He recognized Alex, clearly, so why…?

“Alex,” Owen’s father replied with a firmness that suggested Owen didn’t know the full story.

The tyrant Hydreigon’s eyes blazed with fury. “Alex?” he growled deeply. “ALEX?”

“Xander hates you, too,” Alex said. “If I had the power…”

Something about Alex’s voice changed just then. Owen couldn’t place it. It was him, yet… different, like it was someone else, too.

“If I had the power to do it, I would feed you to your own heads. You… don’t deserve to be my father!”

Then came a gust of wind from below, aimed not at Alexander but at Leph. That made Owen get a sense of falling again; he yelped, and Alex reacted quickly, on instinct. He swept beneath Owen, catching him, and started to fly away. Aster clashed with Eon again, who had taken on the same, Mewtwo form. That not only unnerved Aster, but Eon seemed stronger because of it, too.

Alexander was faster. In a single, deft motion, he had closed the distance between the other Hydreigon. The smaller heads clamped down on Alex’s main neck; Alex froze with sudden fear. Once again that defiance was gone the moment he needed it most. And Owen was right on his back, just as frozen, having no idea how to counter. Time slowed to a stop. His mind raced.

Alex was in danger. Alexander was totally ignoring Owen, now. That meant he could try something. Protect Alex. How? How could he…

This is my power… The same power I am using to give it to you: Bestow.

Necrozma, are you watching?
Owen called, but received no answer. He didn’t know if the thought came to him from Necrozma, or from his own memories. But he knew what to do; he’d been able to do it all along.

The world moved slowly, and Owen took action. He envisioned crossing his arms, channeling that golden ward around him, but instead of forming it, he stored it in his hands. It became a tiny golden sphere, and he instantly slammed it into Alex’s back. It felt warm.

Instants before Alexander crushed Alex’s neck, gold light spewed from the surface wound, forcing Alexander’s jaws to open. The barrier pressed outward even faster and Alex, seizing the opportunity, spewed a jet of indigo fire at Alexander’s face. It barely did anything, but it did blind him enough for Alex to fly away.

But Alexander was relentless and fired another Shadow beam. It carved across the sky with a hideous sizzle, like it was corroding the air itself, and slammed into Alex head-on. The golden remnants of Owen’s barrier deflected most of it, but it was dispelled at the same time, and the lurching impact sent Owen flying.

Owen tumbled down, down, down. He couldn’t see where everyone was and could barely tell which way was up or down. But he did see three figures above him. One tried to race toward him, but was held back by another—the two Hydreigon were clashing. Far away, were there others? That was possibly Leph or Aster, neither one able to stray too far from Alexander, thanks to their chains.

And then there was Xypher. Yes, that was the other dark figure in the sky; Owen could tell from the pale blue ball of spikes on his back. Hakk was too large for comfortably flying, Owen mused.

He could only hope it was a rescue, but he decided to be cautious as well. He crafted another Protect shield, but this time focused hard on the topmost part of the sphere, where it bent and twisted into a vaguely-shaped handle. Xypher must have figured out what to do, because those massive talons clamped down on it instantly, and then Xypher banked to the left, far and away from Alexander and Alex.

Over the wind that whistled around Owen’s Protect, making an ethereal hum, he couldn’t hear what Alexander shouted. But it made Leph glow, and then countless beams of light flew skyward, raining down on them.

“No!” Owen expanded his Protect as far as it could go, a splitting headache nearly forcing him to drop it. Nearly. But not enough. Xypher swerved out of the way of most, and the rest were deflected, but then the golden light shattered and Owen had to shrink his barrier back down.

He didn’t have the energy for what came next.

Sailing through the sky with uncanny precision was one of Alexander’s beams of darkness. That sickening sound through the air, cooking it, made his feathers crawl.

But then the sound was interrupted by a deeper pop, and then a pained squawk that etched itself into Owen’s memories.

Suddenly, he was falling. The Protect disappeared and the ground rapidly approached. He was going fast both downward and westward, no idea if he’d land on his head or his feet.

With some quick thinking, Owen broke his fall with several downward blasts of fire like before, and then crossed his arms in a Protect when he saw the trees coming. The fire wasn’t as strong as he would have hoped, but it made his whole body feel warmer and warmer. It was a welcome change that he hadn’t realized he’d wanted all this time. Thankfully, most of his momentum came from the tumble and falling sideways rather than down, but he couldn’t clearly remember just how he landed or how long he’d been rolling. He only remembered soft, dusty ground and the ethereal barriers of his Protects cushioning the blow.

He was heavier as a Charmeleon and that made the landing more painful. But he was also sturdier, and didn’t feel like any of his bones had broken this time.

There was a chance, which Owen chose to ignore, that he would feel it in the morning. “Dad…?” Owen croaked, sitting up. “D—”

There was only one other person with him. And he realized why his fall had been survived at all. Crumpled against the tree just behind him was Xypher. He couldn’t see where one of his legs was and there was a huge hole in his steely belly. Black haze seeped out of it, obscuring whatever wounds it had left, but Owen was almost positive he could see through it and to the other side.

“Xypher,” Owen whimpered.

He opened his beak. “Are… you okay? Okay… okay…”

“I’m fine It’s you that—” Owen hastily crawled to Xypher, about to inspect the wound, but stopped when he got too close. He didn’t want to hurt him. This was a delicate situation.

Ignoring the lingering smell of the morning’s breakfast, Owen searched for leaves, dirt, anything to help cover the wound. Would that even work? Was that safe? No, it wouldn’t. Did he know any healing techniques—anything that he could grasp to help?

Help, Owen begged. What do I do?

H-Heal Pulse, try Heal Pulse!
Amelia’s voice was shaking. Do you know it? Hang—hang on, maybe we can channel some of that to you!

Until then, Owen desperately searched around and, miraculously, found a bunch of fused berries near one of those odd trees. But as he pulled and separated them out, his eyes grew wide and grave. No, he’d remember that subtle appearance anywhere. Those wouldn’t heal Xypher. Even if they did, they weren’t blessed. Owen had forgotten.

“Little… flower…”

“Huh?” Owen noticed that Xypher was looking even more deflated than before. A pool of rotten blood was expanding around him, tarnishing his dark feathers. That strange darkness had gone so deep.

There was no time to wait for healing or finding berries; he had to work with his own abilities and save him. “Hold on. Just hang on,” he begged, and breathed. In, out. Just like he always had.

He saw another flame. This one was a sputtering, dim mess, like its core was coated in thick tar. He could barely plunge his spirit into it, let alone pull away at all the grime. Darkness encroached; the flame shrank away from him.

No, no! I’m here to help!

It listened only enough that it stopped fleeing. Owen reached forward again, pulling at some of that tar… but more was coating onto it. Some got on his hands; it didn’t burn, but it was eating away at his presence. He pumped as much light as he could, but then realized something—what would he do against Dark Matter? And if Xypher was dying… he had to focus on the wounds first.

Realizing this, he withheld that light and pulled away. Heal Pulse. Amelia said they’d tried to channel it to him, even if it was from so far away. He didn’t know how that felt, but maybe he could Mimic it.

Please, please, please…

Grasping at the air by his side, Owen squeezed his eyes shut. He felt something tangible, little threads that wrapped around his claws. A soothing light.

Do you feel that? Amelia said. Grasp that power! C’mon!

We can’t hold this aura for long, Owen!

I’m fine! I copied it!


Owen felt that healing energy rush through his arms. It was dizzying. With an intense frown and wide, determined eyes, he pointed at Xypher. “H-hold on!” he said. “This will heal you!”

Accompanying the pink light was an unfathomable drain on his system, the moments of fatigue that struck him all at once forcing him to a knee. He wheezed, taking deep breaths that hurt his throat. The light faded, and that was all he could do. Everything else was meant for Dark Matter, and it wasn’t healing energy anyway.

Finally working up the energy to look up, Owen asked, “How are you now?”

It was still there. Owen’s heart dropped to his stomach.

A dark energy ate away at whatever healing light tried to reach those wounds. It was a deep, corrosive energy that was too hard to heal for someone as novice as him at the art. “No… Xypher, just… just hang on, okay? Mispy… will be here soon! She has to, she can find my aura, okay? Xypher?”

He crawled toward him, vision blurring halfway there. He didn’t know if it was from tears or fatigue.

“I’m… so glad…”

“Huh?” Owen dragged himself to his side, where Xypher had leaned against an almost-fallen tree. The blood stung Owen’s legs.

“I’m so glad… that I got to see your smile… one last time…”

“No, n-no, no, don’t talk like that!” Owen shook Xypher gently, but when he winced, Owen stopped. “What about Hakk? He needs you! A-and what about, what about being a guard? Xypher, come on!”

Xypher couldn’t die. He didn’t have enough memories to survive it. If Xypher died here, there wouldn’t be anything but a Void Shadow left, not even a shell of what Xypher used to be. They could happen upon him as a hostile a few days later and never know it.

“Never lose… that smile, little flower…”

“Xypher, I’m not smiling! Please, j-just hang on!”

All those years under the control of those who knew his past, all of the work he’d done for the gods, all that time wandering the Voidlands as the tiniest Charmander, and only now did he feel completely powerless.

“You are… You are, you are…”

“How? Xypher, stay awake, okay? Hello? Xypher?” He wanted to slap him awake, but he didn’t know if that would help or not. He warmed his claws and pressed against Xypher’s cheek. “Xypher, I’ll smile if you stay alive, okay? Okay?”

“You already are… already, already…”

“I don’t understand,” Owen croaked. “Hakk’s almost here. Mispy’s almost here. They have to be. Okay? Then I’ll smile, okay?”

There was a little twinkle on Xypher’s beady black eyes, but it was fading. Owen had a horrible sense in his gut that the flame in Xypher was disappearing. Even when he closed his eyes, he saw that fire in front of him. That life, that drive to live, was being blotted out.

“Your eyes…” Xypher’s own twinkled. “That light. You smile… with your eyes. Your eyes… your…”

Owen held his breath. Xypher never took his. The beak was half-open, about to say a word, but Xypher wasn’t there anymore. The light, and the flame, disappeared.

And for a while, Owen stood there, grasping the dead Corviknight’s cheek, feeling the last warmth disappear from the feathers. Some primal emotion forced out a whimper, then a sob, and he rapidly shook his head, staggering away until he landed on his tail. Rolling to his front, he stumbled across the small clearing and to the nearest tree. Hoping that Xypher would miraculously rise again, some delayed attribution of his healing. Owen turned around, only to see that Xypher’s body had fallen over.

It all seemed so quiet. It only barely registered to Owen that Alex was still fighting Alexander and the others, or that Demitri and Mispy were with Zena for some of that clash. That others might still be fighting. That Hakk could have been killed the same way as Xypher; he had no idea where he had landed, after all.

All the while, Owen couldn’t take his eyes off of the body. That tightness in his chest was overwhelming. He had to let it out.

Not thinking, perhaps not even caring or realizing, he screamed. All of that frustration, fear, anger, and whatever other litany of pains he’d felt during his Voidlands had finally pushed him over. It was here, where it was just him and Xypher, where he’d failed to save just one simple soul—it still etched itself into his brain. That last light. That fire. He was gone. He was gone. He was gone.

Eventually, Owen couldn’t scream anymore. He coughed and wheezed on the ground, digging his claws in the soil, blasting stray flames into the inert dust. Fists met wood as he feebly struck at a nearby trunk. Amelia and Klent were calling to him, but he ignored it.

It didn’t feel like anybody was nearby.

Feel.

Feel?

Perceive. It was back. He had a horn again. Finally, it was back. Owen’s feathers were hardening, too, turning a deep red color.

The tears and the air had both run out. He could only stand. Stare. The body still didn’t move. Cruel winds cooled it even more.

He could bury him. Something. Anything. Kind words. But he didn’t know Xypher well enough. He could only commit to memory the location to tell Hakk later.

Because he finally remembered that there was a mission to complete before more like him died.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he told nobody.

He looked down, focusing. Around his right hand, a radiant light swirled between his claws. Dark Matter was only a handful of seconds away if he sprinted.

So, he did.

<><><>​

The one the Voidland inhabitants called North stirred. A constant, stabbing pain coursed through his near-lightless body. Necrozma focused on something far away, tuning his spirit toward his many pieces, watching as the world moved without him.

In Kilo, Lugia, corrupted by Shadow, was flying from east to west, now only a few moments away from clashing with the Dark Guardian, who had dedicated himself to protecting Kilo Village.

The Fairy, Rock, and Normal Guardians encountered Nevren from the vortex over Hot Spot, who had escaped Lugia through some novel technology. But in their battle prior, they had lost the Ice Guardian, who had been separated from her mate. The Fighting Guardian, too, had been pulled toward his other half, but escaped his fate, for now.

The Steel Guardian, who always stood for frankness and truth, elected to assist in bringing Lugia’s mortal half as far away as possible, hoping to spare Kilo Village of its destruction.

The other two who aligned with Arceus, the Dragon and Poison Guardians, remained on standby in their Dungeons while Arceus battled Dark Matter from the surface. Necrozma knew they did not want to leave their domains, where they were strongest… But their inaction was disappointing. Had that been an order from their leader?

The Bug Guardian, weakened and nearly powerless, watched over what remained of the Fire Guardian, who thrashed and growled within her container. Protecting them both had been the Electric Guardian, until an apparent restlessness overtook her, and she and the Bug Guardian were now chasing after Owen in silence. It seemed they were not the only ones, as they’d happened upon the fallen prince of the south along the way.

And then there was Owen, in a rage, sprinting toward Dark Matter for a final confrontation, as the Water Guardian gave chase. The Hunter who had slain and claimed his Flying and Ground fragments, too, was there, along with the new Psychic Guardian, newly recovered, and his allies.

In, out. Meditate. He did not breathe nor did he need to, but it was the same sort of lesson he had taught his students, and then what those students taught others. In, out. He let what little light his blackened, crystal body had flow through it, soothing that torment, as Void Shadows routinely encircled him. They could never get through his Radiant ward.

This would be it. Necrozma had arranged so delicately for this to happen, ever since he’d awakened the radiant glow of the Orbs. And now, with the light he had been able to slowly, slowly gather… he could gift it to Owen in order to slay Dark Matter. He was the only one who could. Mhynt, the other with light and shadow, was under Alexander’s control… but Owen was under no domain. He defied the Hunters; he rejected Arceus; he condemned Mew; he even doubted the Hearts. He would only listen to the light. In the end, Owen would make the right choice.

Owen… For now, I will grant you one more memory. Do not lose sight of your purpose.

<><><>​

“…So, that’s who he is,” Owen said, hands clasped together. He smiled up at Necrozma, tail flickering brightly with flecks of gold. “He doesn’t really have a name, and he got mad when I tried suggesting a few, so I just called him the Void King for now. Sounds pretty cool, if you ask me…”

But the bright dragon’s multicolored eyes were grave. Dimmer than usual. “How long has it existed?”

“He says he’s always been around,” Owen explained. “He woke up one day feeling confused and scared… And that’s just how it’s been. He’s actually just—Er. Um. He doesn’t want me to say specifically where he is, but…”

“Where?” Necrozma asked, and Owen sensed the haste in his voice.

Owen clammed up.

“This is important.”

“The reason I brought him up was because I think it’ll take an act of the gods to fix him. He’s… I don’t know how to phrase it, but it’s like he can only feel negative emotions. And he feels it from everyone else, too, i-in the whole world. It’s awful! And we—”

You,” Necrozma said, “aren’t answering my question, Owen.”

“Will you help him?” Owen asked, tuning his horns on Necrozma. He felt a brief tingle, like a warning, but defiantly Owen kept going.

“…You’re still using your Perceive.”

“Will you,” Owen said, “help him?”

Tense silence. Then, Necrozma turned away. “You know the answer,” he said. “I intend to help… But not in a way you would like, Owen. I’ve always appreciated your… mortal way of thinking. Your ties to the material world. But this is something out of your scope.

“This… Void King. I think I know what he is, how he came to be. Creation is… a delicate, fickle thing in its early stages. And this world was created from gods who were traumatized by their own creation long ago. By humans, the worst of them. This Void King… must have been a stray thought of one of those gods when the world was at its most malleable, down to its very fabric and physical laws. That hopeless fear and pain, during that instant when this reality was formed… It became your ‘friend.’”

“Why did you say it like that?” Owen pressed. “…Just help him. You’re gods. If he was created that way, can’t you fix him like that, too? Get Arceus, get Star. All three of you have the full power of Quartz, right?”

“The only way to fix something like that—someone who is tied to the very fabric of the world… is to destroy it.”

“I’m not letting you do that,” Owen said. “I won’t… And—and you’d need Star and Arceus to approve it, too. And you know they won’t.”

More silence. The heat had subsided; Necrozma wasn’t warding him away from trying to Perceive his intent. It wasn’t like there was a lot for Owen to learn; he already knew much about Necrozma’s past, and his Perceive, strong as it was, wouldn’t reveal much more.

“…That’s it, then,” Necrozma said. “Owen… No. Wishkeeper.” He turned, but kept his gaze on him with one eye. “I will see you tomorrow at the entrance to Star Cave. Bring Jirachi.”

“For what?”

“A wish for your friend.” It sounded charitable, but his voice was grave.

Owen knew that the wish would be one for death.

He wasn’t going to allow it. He’d simply deny the request, deny it from Necrozma himself… And it would all be fine.


<><><>

Necrozma leaned against his bed of rocks and stone, which he’d resided for centuries, and relaxed. The pain eased, if only slightly. That is the most I can give you, Owen… with what time you have left to make your choice. I hope that memory… will make things clearer to you, and not overwhelm you.

He wondered if Owen would answer. If he would send a thought at all.

But in the end, none came. Through Owen’s eyes, watching from the Grass Orb, Necrozma saw Dark Matter just ahead.

I know, in the end, you will make the right choice…
 

unrepentantAuthor

A cat that writes stories.
Location
UK
Pronouns
they/she
Partners
  1. purrloin-salem
  2. sneasel-dusk
  3. luz-companion
  4. brisa-companion
  5. meowth-laura
  6. delphox-jesse
  7. mewtwo
  8. zeraora
Howdy. Time to finally make a start on this behemoth.

One sentence in, and already Owen is being brutally murdered by a horrible monster. We open with extreme violence against our lad, just as it should be. Off to a very good start indeed.

So, only one short prologue in, and we're already seeing a ton of Namo Tropes strongly indicated. Excellent. Let's play spot the Namo Things:
- hard whump
- combat
- mundane and esoteric names
- genetic abominations
- odd couple
- odd parentage
- ominous foreshadowing
- innocuous foreshadowing
- juxtaposition of cute normalcy and violent weirdness
- casual worldbuilding
- casual enthusiasm in the face of bodily injury
- lying liars who lie
- dissembling and tells
- fantasy bodies doing fantasy body things
- food
- what the fuck is going on

So, y'know. These are all things you've managed to cram into this short passage, and I think it's therefore reflective of the work to come! That's a good thing. Don't love when prologues are unrepresentative!

By the end of the final scene, we have Owen vociferously declaring himself a downright battleheart, and indications that he's being deceived. Superb. I wonder whether this manipulation is just to protect him, or if he's being prepared for something somehow. Man. This kid (?) is so hype about getting maimed. Good! He will be.

I gotta tell you, by the time I was done with this, my liveblogging went something like this:
holy shit! we straight up get confirmation that the fight happened. and amia is the target. and alex evaporated. what kind of wild shit is going on? 'put owen through all that again'?? this is foreboding as fuck.

So there's your indication of my reaction. Hope it's what you'd hope for~
 
Chapter 125 - Shattered Core

Namohysip

Dragon Enthusiast
Staff
Partners
  1. flygon
  2. charizard
  3. milotic
  4. zoroark-soda
  5. sceptile
  6. marowak
  7. jirachi
Thanks for the review, Jackie! And I'm glad the prologue had such a glowing impression on you~ I know that after Blacklight you're quite familiar with my writing style, but it's nice to know that even my old writing has some of that appeal. Looking forward to when you catch up on more.

And now, the next chapter...

--

Chapter 125 – Shattered Core

Dark Matter, taking the form of a Goodra, turned to face Owen just as he cleared the final set of trees. Void Shadows had no chance to catch up to him, and any attempt at stopping Owen was met by a ruthless slash of golden energy. His body was glowing unnaturally, and Owen didn’t care why. It was, undoubtedly, because of that stored light.

“So, you’re finally here,” Dark Matter growled. “Have you come to give up?”

A dark atmosphere filled the air, filling Owen’s nostrils. The light countered it; nothing weighed Owen down. Wordlessly, he continued to run, closing the gap. They were twenty feet apart.

“You shouldn’t bother,” Dark Matter stated. Ten feet. “Surrender, and I’ll—”

Owen lunged, roaring, and Dark Matter sidestepped him, far too fast for a Goodra’s form. He fired a beam of darkness that Owen reflected with only a flick of his wrist, perfectly parrying the blast into Dark Matter’s face. It only proved to annoy him, but the distortion of light obscured the demon’s vision. Owen seized that opportunity to lunge again, but Dark Matter had predicted it. He hopped away, leaving behind a pulsating orb of darkness that burst in Owen’s face.

Holding his breath, Owen powered through, coating his body in a thin shield. Some of his scales tore off of him from the blast, but the rest of his body was intact. He pressed on, Necrozma’s light fueling his Protects for far longer than they should have persisted.

Every claw slash that Owen attempted was dodged by Dark Matter’s simple maneuvers. He knew each one was coming, but Owen was keeping up the pressure while devising a good way to get him despite the advantage. He already had one plan ready, and just needed time.

When it was clear that they had fallen into a rhythm, neither side tiring, Owen knew persisting was futile. He slowed his pace and shouted, “Why? Why are you doing any of this?! What’s the point, when the whole reason I helped you before… was to fix things! Not make them worse!”

“Your attempt clearly backfired. Everyone’s has. There is no point in trying to help me.” Dark Matter weaved to the left, his body hardening. While the body type was similar, something shifted as he fought Owen. Scales; shorter, harder horns; and something growing from his back…

“We had every reason to help you,” Owen said. “It’s because if we didn’t… then the world would just be destroyed, wouldn’t it?”

“You don’t remember it all, do you?” Dark Matter asked, swinging his lengthening tail at Owen, who hopped over it before landing his first, grazing punch. Dark Matter’s scales were dry and cold.

Owen caught his breath, but kept on his guard. Dark Matter wasn’t attacking, but Owen had a feeling it was because he hadn’t left an opening. “I’m here. Isn’t that what you wanted? Withdraw everyone.”

“You haven’t surrendered.”

Owen was going to say, maybe he would if he withdrew. But once again he couldn’t bring himself to say it. A fire in him refused to allow it. Pride? This felt like more than pride.

Dark Matter’s body shifted again, becoming a little taller. Wings emerged from his back as his slimy body hardened to a proper, scaly hide. Orange scales dotted his sides before becoming the dominant color, as did an off-white front. A black flame emerged from his tail.

“You think that’s going to scare me?” Owen said. “Mimicking my species?”

“You said it was cute, once,” Dark Matter said in a mocking tone. “How things change. How some things don’t change at all.”

Owen held a breath, steadying it. Dark Matter shifted his weight, but Owen quickly refocused, and Dark Matter relaxed again. He was still looking for an opening. He couldn’t let his focus down for an instant.

“If you surrender, I will battle against Alexander. He could be slaughtering your allies as we speak. They won’t be able to defend against his corrupting touch.”

“They’ll be fine against that,” Owen said. “If it’s anything like yours… I’ve protected them. I put some blessings on everything they had.”

“Then all that has to be done is separate them from their trinkets. How many already have? How many already died?”

Owen sidestepped left in a steady spiral. Dark Matter followed the counterclockwise path. Maybe a better angle, a misstep, was what they needed. This would be a gamble, but he had to start moving again.

“If you withdraw everyone, we can start over,” Owen said. “I’ll… vouch for you. We can take Alexander down together. And then we can try again. From the start. My offer… still stands. The Hands of Creation can fix what happened when you were created… If we just talk, they’ll understand. We don’t have to destroy everything to do it!”

“Give me one reason why I should believe you,” Dark Matter said with a growl behind his words. “Anam’s offer. Your own that you can’t even remember clearly. Both times failed. I have no reason to think this will work out any differently. If you want to stop me… it will have to be by force.”

Owen stopped. Dark Matter did the same. A cold, dry wind carried the dust of the Voidlands. No leaves, no ash, only dust from countless dried corpses since Kilo’s creation.

“You won’t have it any other way?” Owen said.

“Surrender, and I will achieve your goal myself.”

They both knew that wasn’t an option. Owen exhaled through his nostrils, a steady, light-warping stream of heat distorting the air in front of him.

“Fine.”

Owen brought his hands forward, collecting a small, golden glow of light, and Dark Matter narrowed his eyes.

“Really?” he repeated. “That was all of the energy you had stored? That won’t do anything.”

A glimmer shined beyond the forest, precisely behind Dark Matter. It got brighter within split-seconds, and by the time Dark Matter could look behind him, it was too late.

The Radiant Tree of Life’s final beam tore through the forest, avoiding most of the trees, deliberately avoiding the ground, and fired directly at Owen. Thanks to their walk, though, Dark Matter was caught in the crossfire. Owen widened his eyes and planted his feet, screaming when that overwhelming power spiraled toward him. The golden light around his claws formed an inverted dome, collecting the light and channeling it through his arms and into his chest. It felt like he was going to explode.

Owen wasn’t the only one screaming. A roar of pain cut through the deafening blast as Dark Matter’s body was torn apart; Owen could barely see, so he relied instead on his budding Perceive to get a vague idea of what Dark Matter was doing. Even when the light faded and all had become quiet again, Owen was blind.

But Dark Matter was slouched over, clutching at one of the many wounds that riddled his body. Dark haze poured from every cut.

“You said… you were out of power… You would use it all… against the Titans!”

Owen lowered his shaking arms. His body was a glimmering gold between the ridges of his red scales. He had more than enough power to do what he had to.

“I lied.”

While wounded, Dark Matter still had his new wings. He stretched them, crouching down, and leapt into the air.

Owen mirrored the motion, channeling that same Radiant power. It was the same as Mysticism, after all, but more. The Psychic element of Necrozma, those wings of light, the levitation, and the glow. He would draw from Necrozma’s power once more.

False wings of light sprouted from Owen’s back, anchoring themselves there. He leapt into the air and flew toward Dark Matter at twice the speed, past him, weaving around a blast of darkness that fizzled against the irradiated environment, and reappeared in front of the shadowy Charizard.

“You aren’t getting away,” Owen said lowly.

Dark Matter answered with a gout of black flames. Owen spat a golden Flame Burst in reply, neutralizing it. Then, from his hands, he fired a concussive beam that sent Dark Matter spiraling back to the ground.

The true battle had begun.

<><><>​

Nate wasn’t completely sure how everyone else was doing, only that the cute denizens of Kilo Village—and, no, all of Kilo—were counting on him to keep his part of the world safe. To keep the heart of the world safe!

A strange, chimeric Pokémon had approached him only a few kilos ago, offering the life force of countless Pokémon within him. Now, that chimera—Lavender, he called himself—was nestled between several of his eyes, standing gingerly. For someone so strong, he was so gentle! If only he could pet him safely, or if he had the time to try.

No, no, he had to focus. He had gathered all of his Dark spirits again, getting the news from them on how Kilo Village was doing, and also took in all the spirits that Lavender had offered. They were strange spirits, twisted by new properties that felt artificial. Still, a soul was a soul, and they were all so excitable and friendly! They would do well in his realm.

Now, on the darkened horizon, there was Lugia and the shadowy storm behind her. Above all else, he had to protect Kilo Village. They were helpless against her, and he was the only superpower available to truly battle against her. Most of the others had left again for Hot Spot to fight that dark source. Lugia was just a pawn… but Nate sensed something else deeper inside. Was that a piece of that very darkness?

Yes… It was. It was a flame. An unnatural, black, cold flame that absorbed the light and heat around it. That… was what controlled Lugia. If he could blast that out of her…

But how?

“Excuse me, Mister Dark Guardian?”

Several of Nate’s eyes crossed to focus on Lavender, between two of the five finger-like extensions of his front.

“I don’t really know what I can do extra, but I’ll try to fight! I need to protect Auntie Rim, too!”

Right, that Cherrim. Her aura was incredibly weak, but stable. Still, any attack from this darkness could kill her outright. Perhaps worse. They couldn’t afford that. And the strange Houndoom… He was not strong enough for this fight, but something about his and Lavender’s aura was unique. Like those other artificial Pokémon in Quartz HQ. An aura that could slice through other auras. Those spirits provided by Lavender had similar properties. Healing from those injuries was harder; it cut through divine barriers as well and down to the very aura.

That Alakazam was smart to provide him with that power.

The immortal Lugia was finally close enough to attack, just as the sun’s light was blotted out by the incoming clouds.

Stay on me for now, Nate told Lavender.

The chimera nodded happily, crouching. “I’ll jump once I’m needed and I’ll do my very best!”

Protect the town, too.

“Mhm!”

The details of Lugia’s body were starting to get clearer. That was the time to strike.

All but five of Nate’s countless eyes closed. Only the eyes at the very tips of those tendrils on his face remained open, and they were focused on Lugia with an intense glare.

Vague recollections of a fragmented past surfaced. Nate recalled a similar sight, long ago, him curled around a great tree as a looming shadow consumed the rest of the land. He remembered crying out for help… of Xerneas falling into that darkness, yes! He remembered Xerneas! And then, a great light shooting toward him…

And then…

What happened after that?

Lugia’s cry pushed the memories away. The present was more important! And his energy was fully charged. He locked onto Lugia, understanding her movements… She would not be able to sweep away from this one. Though, it didn’t look like she was trying.

Protect the town! Nate begged. Get everyone to shelter! Now! I’ve taken as much power as I can!

“Okay!” Lavender dismounted, shaking off the fatigue. Nate could feel how tired Lavender was beyond his bright smile.

The winds twisted. A Shadow Aeroblast that cut everything in its path, scarring the land far below just from proximity, surged toward Nate. And the Dark Guardian countered with his own blast. Five beams of light concentrated into the palm of his face, one from each tendril. He braced against the mountain, hoping it wouldn’t crack under the pressure, and fired. Pokémon-sized boulders scattered in all directions; a shockwave warped the light and left a wide, tangential fissure at the circular mountain’s base. It sliced through the Shadow Blast, dissolving it, and Lugia shut her mouth to swerve out of the way. Too slow.

She cried again, a second shockwave leaving a crater a quarter the size of Kilo Village in the fields east of the mountain. The field crackled with a dark power, flecked with white and gold energy otherwise… but Lugia was still flying. She roared weakly and pressed on.

How…? That was a direct hit!

But she wasn’t healing. He felt that lingering, painful energy clinging to her. Lugia couldn’t heal! Not from those strikes!

But… that was everything. Nate had spent so much time gathering and focusing that he couldn’t do that again. He could only fend her off from Kilo Village, now, and hope his attack slowed her enough that the citizens could find safety.

This strange, satisfied feeling… It had been nagging at him. But that moment, expending all of his power… He felt it had been his purpose to do that. A long-dormant feeling bubbled up—duty. It was his duty to protect Kilo.

Another memory flashed in his mind of a great dragon of light. For some reason, Nate felt a sense of anger and horror all at once at this dragon of light falling into a pool of darkness. And then, a gold fragment—a spirit, or part of one—jettisoning away from the dragon of light… piercing through Nate… and then going deeper into Kilo.

Back to his senses, Lugia was too close for comfort. He prepared a weaker blast of energy, his many spirits offering to help with what little energy they had left. But no, he would let them rest; they had done their part.

The world was falling apart, and yet the people within continued to press onward. Their cries to survive, their will to continue, flowed through him. He felt it from all who fought in Kilo. He was their voice… That was how Nate felt, deep within him. He did not know why; it only felt correct. He didn’t mind the details for now; perhaps one day soon it would reveal itself to him, currently sealed behind some divine ward.

But for the first time in centuries, he’d found his purpose. With renewed vigor, the Dark Guardian propelled toward Lugia, two beams of darkness clashing between them.

<><><>​

At the rate things were going, the war would be lost.

Nevren stood atop Lygo’s back, staring into the portal, never properly entering it. He would—casting information security to the wind—tell Lygo to count to 90 seconds before taking a risky approach again, saying that he needed just that much time to recharge his Psychic energy. Not entirely true, but technically relevant.

But every glimpse into the Voidlands painted a darker and darker picture. The Titans were almost at the central tree, and Nevren wasn’t sure what would happen afterward, only that there was only so much land for the Null Village residents to take shelter in if the worst outcome became a reality…

Are you adequately charged yet, Arceus? Nevren said.

Nearly, Nevren. You asked that not too long ago… I actually have roughly ten seconds remaining.

Very well.


That would do nicely. He wouldn’t even have to come up with an excuse for his impatience, since Arceus wasn’t going to remember it. It was curious that Owen was able to have a vague recollection of that rewound bit of time, yet everyone else did not. What had interfered with him then? What changed?

He was getting distracted. Five seconds, now, and Lygo was still weaving around shadowy blasts effortlessly while Nevren hung on.

“Lygo, it is time to fall back,” Nevren said.

Do it now, Arceus! The way is open!

This better work…


Even if it didn’t, Nevren could give an alternative strategy next time.

Arceus disappeared from Destiny Tower. The instant he did, the vortex pulsed with power, reacting once again to Arceus leaving his perch, but that was a risk they could afford. Arceus appeared in front of Nevren, staring into the portal while his whole body was alight with power. The wheel around his torso sprouted countless filaments of light, numbering at just over three hundred if Nevren’s guess was correct. Each filament shot a beam of light into the vortex, which Arceus then guided with care to not hit the Tree. Instead, it struck wraiths individually, every filament precisely aimed to deal damage to all nearby foes. Several more struck Titans all over, breaking apart their amalgamated limbs and exposing their Cores. One of them had a Core inside… It looked like a blue body with antlers.

Arceus’ glow was dim, now. “That was my best,” he said. “Dark Matter’s strength… I don’t know what more I can do. I’m… I’m sorry.” He bowed his head in shame.

Nevren pressed his Revisor.

In a blink, Arceus disappeared. Nevren was in a different position, and Lygo was weaving past shadowy beams that sizzled in the air.

Ngh—Nevren! My gathered power… I lost it!

Dark Matter tried to nullify it. I do not think he can do it again. Gather more power! Are you fatigued?

No, I’m fine. I’ll push harder.

Very good. I will tell you when.


A pleased smile crossed Nevren’s face. All according to plan. He tapped Lygo and directed him forward, not caring much for whatever grumbling protests Lygo made, because he wasn’t going to remember it anyway.

The repeated ninety seconds were practically the same, but Lygo had an even easier time dodging the incoming blasts. They were slightly thinner. Nevren also felt less nauseous from less turbulent flight patterns.

“Is it just me,” Lygo said, “or are they getting weaker?”

“They certainly are,” Nevren hummed, counting the seconds, glancing at his gray Revisor for that cyan flicker to return. Closer, closer…

Do it now, Arceus! The way is open! Nevren repeated, his mind quickly falling into a routine. He would be patient. Their thinning numbers would mean this Revisor-Judgement cycle was their trump card. One they hadn’t even discovered until the eleventh hour; this frustrated Nevren.

Even as Arceus blasted the insides of the Voidlands with his second volley, nearly as strong as the first, Nevren ruminated over the fact that this strategy had only been by a fluke of discovery. No careful planning, no coordinated front. He’d happened upon it. Yes, he was a genius for devising the strategy so readily, but he should have discovered it earlier. He could have done so much more! He could have singlehandedly commanded everyone to fix the problem trivially.

“What?” Arceus said, blinking. “Is that…”

Nevren was about to press the Revisor, but Arceus’ puzzlement overrode his caution. He became curious. Tapping Lygo, he gestured forward.

Arceus’ gaze was focused on a strange wraith in the sky, but it indeed gave off a curiously… divine aura.

“Is that my power?” Arceus sounded insulted.

The wraith had four legs and a dark body, but the shape was unmistakable. That rigid structure around its abdomen… That was just like the wheel around Arceus.

Oh no. Arceus was floating toward the portal. If he did that, he wouldn’t be able to recharge effectively. Just then, the badge turned cyan. Press, press!

Everything reset.

Ngh—Nevren! My gathered power… I lost it!

Nevren exhaled in relief. Good. Crisis averted. Next time, he would make it so Arceus wouldn’t see inside for too long…

Dark Matter tried to nullify it. I do not think he can do it again. Gather more power! Are you fatigued?

No, I’m fine. I’ll push harder.

Very good. I will tell you when.


<><><>​

Angelo had done more running the past few days than he’d possibly done for several years combined.

Everything burned. His legs, his lungs, his throat, his eyes. How was he running for so long? How many times had he conjured Teleport gateways to take himself and his team out of the fray? Kilo Village was far behind them.

Somehow feeling even larger than Kilo Village, though, was that leviathan battling against Lugia above it. He’d sent a massive blast Lugia’s way and she still hadn’t gone down! What more could it possibly take to defeat a Legend?

Things were so frantic that it hadn’t registered to Angelo until just then that, yes, Lugia did exist, and she was trying to kill everything. What in the world?!

With him were Phol, Brandon, Spice, and Leo, creating a team of five. A nonstandard size when it came to Heart regulations, but was the Thousand Hearts even a defined organization anymore? Was anything organized? Everyone was running about managing what they could to defend against a demonic foe.

“Angelo!” Phol called.

“Coming!” Angelo panted, but the Incineroar had already turned back to pick him up in a sweeping motion, carrying him like he was a giant squash. “Th-thank you,” Angelo said.

“Rest while you can. How much energy do you need for a Teleport?”

“I’m, I’m a bit out of energy, really.”

Phol nodded. “Spice! Get an Elixir!”

“I don’t have too many of these,” Spice warned as the team slowed down to coordinate. “Let’s try to ration them.” She passed the bottle delicately to Angelo, who took small sips at first, wincing at the bitter taste.

“Strong taste,” Angelo complained.

“Eat the bottle with it,” Spice explained. “Have you never had Heart equipment before?”

“Sorry, I don’t usually eat my cups,” Angelo said with an irritated frown. The bottle was quite small, so he ate it like an ice cream cone, which seemed to annoy the ever-impatient Salazzle wraith. “Why is this… sweet?”

“To make it more tolerable,” theorized Spice, glancing back. The green gem in her chest flickered, as did her eyes, which widened in surprise. “We need to hurry.”

Phol turned back as well, and Angelo followed their gaze. Lugia had blasted Nate clear into the crater—Angelo’s heart leapt, wondering how many buildings had been toppled from that single maneuver—and was advancing their way. Tanneth’s Poké Ball wobbled in Angelo’s bag; she must have sensed her getting closer.

Angelo stuffed the small bottle in his mouth and chomped, a vile mixture of bitterness and sweet, crunchy wax filling his senses, both smell and taste. He whined and tried to down it quickly. The wax shards were mercifully flexible enough not to cut his throat on the way down.

“You Hearts are insane, tolerating that,” he mumbled.

“You don’t have time to have a cup of tea in the middle of battle,” Phol said flatly, setting Angelo down.

The Smeargle carved another Teleport and gestured for them all to follow.

“Okay, so, if we keep up that pace, how far’s this gonna take us?” Brandon asked, hauling a bag over his shoulder that clacked with the sound of six of those strange Poké Balls.

Angelo looked behind him. Lugia was still giving chase, but now Nate was following after, firing downward. It seemed like a conscious effort so he didn’t accidentally strike them, but it left huge, five-circle craters every time he missed, each one shaking the earth. Angelo had lost his footing a few times.

Everything surrounding them was open wilderness. The mutants hadn’t really migrated very far to the east from Kilo Village, and by now they must have all been dispatched if they had.

“Um. I think she’s getting closer at this rate,” Angelo said. “I—I can’t really Teleport faster, though!”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to use some of my energy next,” Brandon said. “How good are you guys with flying?”

Leo whimpered. “I’m not the best at that,” he said, but his mind seemed preoccupied. “N-Nate would protect everyone in the Kilo Village, right? I don’t think Lugia got a good shot in…”

Angelo had seen Lugia get several, but didn’t have the heart to say that out loud. Maybe people got lucky.

“Okay, I’m all set,” Brandon said. The metallic Machoke had planted his feet in the ground, staring at a boulder along the dirt path. “Get ready, boys and girls! I’m gonna pull a sheet out of this hill!”

“You’re what—”

Brandon shoved his fingers into the stone, making a horrible grinding noise. A wave of energy flowed from his chest to his shoulders and then his arms, pulsing through the rock. It glowed suddenly, and then collapsed into itself, along with several parts of the surrounding terrain. At the same time, it seemed like part of Brandon’s arms had become liquid, flowing into the rock, and when he pulled, his arms seemed far larger than they should have.

These arms and whatever he’d taken from the rocks coalesced into a blob of liquid metal, rapidly hardening into shining steel. It flattened out, forming curves at the edges, and Brandon set it down, hopping inside with a loud clang.

“In we go!” Brandon said. “I even gave you railings this time so you don’t fall.”

Phol and Spice entered with confused but unflinching expressions; Leo was slower. Angelo was the last of them.

“Can you sketch out wide Teleports?” Brandon asked as he pulled Angelo into the bowl-like platform.

“It’ll take energy, but… I should.”

“Good. Get that ready.”

This was going to be nauseating, wasn’t it?

Brandon led the way once the platform was set, advising everyone to find someone to hang onto. Phol’s grip was strong, and Angelo was able to keep a strong hold around both Leo and Spice. The latter felt cold and a little tingly. Maybe it was her ominous aura.

Speaking of ominous auras, Angelo didn’t even have to look back to feel Lugia getting closer, even as their new platform accelerated to its full speed, the ground a blur below them. Storm clouds were darkening above them and the occasional rumble of earth, audible even from the air, reminded them that two leviathans were only moments behind them.

“Got any good escape ideas?” Brandon asked Angelo.

“Teleport’s my best,” Angelo said. “A-and even then, she can outpace me…”

“Maybe not with this bad boy.” He tapped the front of the metal, flying bowl, and it occurred to Angelo just then how absurd this was.

“Do you regularly go riding on floating disks of your own creation?” Angelo asked.

“Yeah, when I’m bored. Which is a lot, back then, when I’m not just being dormant out in the factory.”

“Factory…” Angelo glanced at his bag. “The place that made these?” He raised the Poké Ball that contained Tanneth, which was still trembling with fear.

“Yeah. Still not totally sure why Boss Man wants it preserved, but maybe it can help us… down the line.”

Lugia roared again, rumbling Angelo’s chest. It was getting to the point where every roar, every blast of darkness that seemed to suck the light out of the air, made it impossible for Angelo to breathe. And this was a long roar, dizzying Angelo.

And then something splashed on his shoulder.

“H-huh?”

It was a dark substance, like water, but he couldn’t see through it. Purplish black. It… stung. He tried to brush it off, but once he managed that, another few drops struck his other shoulder, and then his back.

Brandon visibly winced, closing one eye. “That’s… that’s a bad sort of rain,” Brandon grunted.

Spice looked up, largely unaffected, while Leo shuddered.

“I recognize this feeling,” Leo said. “That storm’s rainwater is… corrupted.”

“Forget corrupted,” Brandon said, focusing on the bowl. “It’s corrosive.”

Angelo checked Brandon’s shoulder. To his horror, the metal on his back and shoulders looked deformed, bubbling and melting in some tiny parts where the water touched.

“Gods—” Angelo glanced at Phol, who looked particularly unwell. “Um—um—” Angelo hastily drew in the air the shape of a sun. It became a solid circle, which he hurled skyward, tethering it by a string of paint that, too, became alight. Like a balloon, this circle glowed and radiated a great warmth, cleaving the clouds immediately above them.

“Thanks.” Brandon sighed, and it just occurred to Angelo then that Leo, Spice, and Phol could all appreciate the Sunny Day.

But the clouds were squeezing that light shut. Lugia’s aura was stronger. It was only a moment’s respite. “Let’s hurry,” Angelo said. “Faster!”

Below them, the rocky terrain gave way to open fields. The dirt path was gone; they were in true wilderness, now, with a forest to their right and plains to the left.

“We’re gonna hide,” Brandon said. “We gotta get outta here. Lugia’s just gonna catch us if we stay in the open, and even at max speed, I’m gonna get outpaced eventually. I only have so much energy under that… that rain. Got worse since last time…”

“You’ve encountered this rain before?” Angelo asked. “What is it?”

“No idea. Did a real number on Rhys before I rescued him. But last time, I fought it off. This time, it’s… denser.”

“It felt like I’d been under a waterfall after just a few drops,” Phol described, finally returning to his senses.

“It wasn’t that bad for me,” Leo said, “but… I’d certainly prefer to avoid it.”

Eyes turned to Spice, who sighed.

“Yeah, yeah, I didn’t mind it at all. I liked it. Can we skip the concerned looks this time?”

Angelo glanced away quickly, catching a glimpse of how terrifyingly close Lugia was, now. He could probably strike her with his farthest-reaching attacks by now, maybe a very precise Hyper Beam from across a large field.

Which meant she could do the same to them. And with more power, too.

“What’s the nearest Dungeon?” Brandon asked flatly.

“Fae Fae Forest to the north.”

“That pastel-lookin’ forest?” Brandon asked, gesturing to their right. “…Yeah. Yeah, we can make that.”

Another roar took Angelo’s breath away and the sunlight above them disappeared.

“Teleport, Angelo!” Brandon shouted.

Angelo sketched a wide circle and willed it in front of them. When they passed through, they escaped just out of the storm’s perimeter. It wouldn’t last.

“Fae Fae it is,” Brandon said. “Anything we gotta worry about?”

“There used to be stories of strange mushrooms attacking travelers… but we know that was just Willow, now,” Leo explained. “It should be safer, aside from the wraiths…”

“Oh, aside from the wraiths,” Angelo grumbled.

“More sun!” Brandon commanded.

“Ah, s-sorry!”

Angelo tried the same cycle, feeling the fatigue already. Something about the rain was making it a lot harder for Angelo to maintain that Sunny Day aura against it, constantly reestablishing its warmth against the oppressive darkness.

When the circle flickered at last, he switched to Teleporting instead.

“We gotta gain enough ground where we enter long after she does,” Brandon said.

“Right. That way, maybe the distortion will pick us up and put us in a different spot than her…”

“Last thing we need is her following us successfully in the Dungeon, too,” Phol said.

“All right. If you guys can maybe attack back?!” Brandon leaned forward. “I’m gonna put my hundred percent into this. Final push!”

But he wasn’t the only one. As if sensing their desperation, Lugia let out a roar louder and longer than before—Nate was so far behind it didn’t even matter anymore—and fired a beam at the closest range yet. It obscured where Lugia was until Brandon swerved out of the way, but part of it nicked their ride. It was only due to Spice bringing up a deflecting, dark Protect that they hadn’t been spun through the skies.

She cursed. “My arms are numb,” she muttered.

“Your form is off. You shouldn’t dedicate a body part like that. The recoil strikes your body’s aura,” Phol said.

“What are you, some kind of tutor?” Spice growled.

“Sorry. You’re clearly just inexperienced with Protect. Take the advice.”

“Fine. What should I do?”

“A compact stance. Arms crossed, crouched down, like you’re bracing. Don’t lock any joints.”

Lugia was readying another. Phol stepped behind the team and demonstrated, crouching down, holding his arms out. Then, he crossed them, forming a golden shield. Then, he reached his arms out and expanded the shield just in time to block the next blast. But unlike Spice’s, this golden barrier was eaten away like paper and Phol shouted in pain. The recoil looked like black electricity that ripped through his arms. Blood exploded out from each one and he collapsed, unable to move them at all.

“Phol!” Angelo cried.

“Another one’s coming!” Leo shouted, and then the rain began to fall.

“On it!” Spice snarled.

The blast went wide after bouncing off of Spice’s barrier, carving a fissure of darkness through a portion of the forest ahead. Brandon’s platform lurched and plummeted ten feet, putting Angelo in a screaming freefall. By the time they all landed, Brandon said, “Sorry, I—ugh, just that thing’s aura gets to me…”

“It’s strong against you Guardians, isn’t it?” Phol said. “And me… Why does it hurt me so much?” He flexed his arms to summon another barrier, but he winced and it fizzled instantly.

“Here comes another!” Angelo cried.

“I can’t make another barrier,” Spice said, struggling to conjure one. Phol could barely move. Leo didn’t know any proper barrier techniques. And Angelo was out of energy to try the same.

“C’mon, we’re almost there!” Brandon shouted.

But they weren’t going to make it in time. Thinking hastily, Angelo said, “Dive down!”

Brandon did. “What’s your plan?!”

The whole metal plate lurched and Angelo’s feet suddenly felt horribly cold. He looked down and his breath caught in his throat—the whole plate had been eaten away, and the bottoms of his feet were narrowly spared a rotten death. The rest of the bowl was blown through, the whole team hanging on the edge… but it was at least one barrier.

Brandon struggled to maintain their flight, but had to make an emergency landing. He grunted something and said, “Everyone, brace!”

Angelo blacked out for a few seconds before the landing. The next thing he knew, everything about his body hurt, and he was staring blurrily at a two-headed, steel Machoke.

“Angelo, wake up!”

“What? What?”

The two heads merged into one as he was shaken awake.

“Get up already! I can’t carry everyone!”

“We were falling…”

“Yes, and now we’ve fallen, let’s GO! The Dungeon’s right ahead, and—”

A roar cut the air. Lugia was upon them, charging her final blast. There would be no escape. Brandon’s melted shoulders sagged. In Angelo’s bag, Tanneth trembled within her capsule.

And then… she stopped. Lugia’s whole body flashed with gold sparks and she screeched, tumbling into the ground with a mighty tremor. She struggled to her feet, but another spark left her shrieking again, but this one didn’t make her flinch as much.

Finally, back to his senses, Angelo found everyone else was also on their feet, even Phol. Their platform lay in ruins on a downward hill. “What happened to her?”

Distantly, ethereal shockwaves to the east—north of Kilo Village—boomed like thunder.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Brandon said. “Let’s go. Whatever miracle just happened, it bought us time. Now, NOW!”

Angelo didn’t have to be warned again. The team fled into the relative safety of Fae Fae Forest, leaving, for now, the corrupted Legend behind.

<><><>​

The winged Charmeleon weaved between spires of darkness and surges of black flames. The very landscape was trying to bring him down, but he was too fast. Even with just one horn, even as a mere Charmeleon, this temporary power he’d gathered from the Tree and whatever else was empowering him put his Perceive into overdrive. He could see everything; he could handle everything. He knew where Dark Matter was fleeing, where every attack was coming, and precisely where to go to avoid it all and strike where he had to.

Dark Matter was struggling. The beam had hit him when he’d least expected, and his attempts at evasion were stopped by blasts of light from Owen. He didn’t even have the energy to fly away anymore. He half-expected backup to arrive to make the challenge even greater, but when Owen glanced toward South Null Village, he saw divine spears raining down upon Titans and Void Shadows from the Hot Spot portal. Owen didn’t know how Arceus was gathering the energy to put out such massive blasts so rapidly, but by the fourth volley, the numbers had thinned to less than a third.

It was over. Dark Matter had lost. Now, all Owen had to do was deliver the final blow.

The final blow…

The dark Charizard dived down, feinting a blast before swerving away and down.

Owen grunted and sped after him, ducking to graze past two giant trees that tried to collapse around him. Then, he rolled left and perfectly avoided an upward spire of Voidland stone. He’d closed half the distance between himself and Dark Matter.

The demon glanced back and blasted light-eating flames toward Owen next; he countered with a beam of gold fire and held his fist forward for the rest. A golden, drill-shaped Protect cleaved the beam of flames apart. A quarter of the distance remained.

He was going to do it. He was going to kill Dark Matter.

Next, Dark Matter flared his wings, trails of shadowy haze filling the air. It all dissolved against Owen’s temporary wings. Like a candle in a dark room, he illuminated this portion of the forest in one final blaze.

Up close, Owen realized how malleable and weak Dark Matter’s body was. He wouldn’t even have to cut through. His Perceive saw within his chest a red sphere where his heart should have been. That was ‘him.’ That was Dark Matter’s core.

Owen thought he saw fear in his eyes just then. He almost, almost, hesitated.

But just as another column of stone rose from the ground, Owen surged forward with a final burst of strength, channeling the light for his wings into propulsion instead, and plunged his fist directly into the false Charizard’s chest.

His claws wrapped around something hard like glass.

Got you.

The golden wings disappeared completely. Dark Matter gasped, breath hitching, as his flight failed him. A tree was just ahead; they both crashed, but Owen kept his grip around that glassy core. It pulsed in his palm, faster and faster with panic.

They struck the ground hard but Owen held strong even after that. Dark Matter groaned from the pain, taking most of the fall as Owen landed on top of him. They skidded to a stop in a quiet spot just beneath a looming, dead tree.

He was frozen. They both knew what positions they were in. Dark Matter, if he made any hostile action, would be filled with light and shattered completely, wouldn’t he? Would Owen have enough to do that? It seemed even Dark Matter didn’t know, because he wasn’t trying to overpower him anymore.

Necrozma’s words echoed. Follow your heart…

Owen remembered seeing Dark Matter in his dreams. That frightened, scared little nebula that didn’t know where to go or what to do, trapped and lost in an abyss of his own creation.

You will make the right decision in the end.

He knew Dark Matter was woven into the fabric of Kilo itself, down to its very laws. That only with the collective power of all gods would he be unwound from it, freed and released… or if the world itself was destroyed. Even if Owen destroyed him right here, he would only buy a few centuries. And what then? Would they have even recovered from this clash by then?

I have faith in you.

“Give me one reason,” Owen said. It was completely silent. No wind. No thunderous booms. Everything was far, far away.

Dark Matter said nothing. He only stared, wide-eyed. The first sense of true emotion Owen felt from him.

“Give me one reason… not to kill you.”

“What…?”

“You have three tries.”

Dark Matter’s influence was gone. None of that could affect Owen anymore. This was all him. These were his memories. He remembered pleading to Necrozma, and getting cold indifference. He remembered talking to Dark Matter, offering a name. He refused it, wanting to die. And Owen urged him to press on.

Dark Matter had listened, somehow. That meant there was hope. Right?

“Why?” Dark Matter said.

“Give… give me a reason. One good reason.”

Dark Matter wasn’t even trying to push Owen away. Was he afraid? Did he know that, if he did, Owen would kill him right then? Did he believe that?

The fallen demon opened his mouth and closed it several times. He was flustered, vulnerable. He looked exactly as he had when they’d first met.

“I’ll… restore Amia. She is sealed, but not gone. That is the nature of Void Shadows.”

“But she won’t be the same, will she?” Owen said. “She’s spent too much time as one. Her past will be like a dream.”

“With time… there is a chance of return.”

“You’ll only use her… to control me. A bargaining chip, because she’s under your control.” Owen tightened his hold, just as his throat, too, constricted. “Two chances.”

How had it come to this? Why did Necrozma give him that memory? What was he trying to say? All this time, Owen thought Necrozma, with his light, wanted Owen to destroy Dark Matter utterly. Push him into the very depths of Kilo once more to buy time to fully eradicate him later. So why that memory, where Necrozma seemed to have been at his cruelest?

You do not need my answer.

“You… you need me to defeat Alexander. I’ll fight for you. With you. And the Voidlands will be freed of his influence.”

“So you can have the power for yourself. So you can continue it all… uninhibited. Then it will all be gone, won’t it? You’ll destroy everything… That’s your answer. That’s what happened when you betrayed Anam.”

“That isn’t why I—”

“One chance.”

Owen had started a whole war against Necrozma to save Dark Matter, this demon who was now trying to destroy the world. All because he tried to help someone who didn’t want his help. And now he was broken, about to plunge everything into oblivion had Owen not stepped in. He could end it. Kill Dark Matter; defeat Alexander; then, with that extra time, purge Dark Matter from Kilo’s fabric, somehow. It would all be over.

Do not lose sight of your purpose.

“You hate me.”

Owen winced. Did he? No… Dark Matter could feel that. Dark Matter wasn’t lying. This was the truth. He hated Dark Matter… But that, that wasn’t right. Not entirely. Because Dark Matter only saw that negative.

“One… chance,” Owen said, voice wavering.

Owen hated Dark Matter… because of what the world made him. And if Dark Matter was destroyed, it would only repeat the cycle. Dark Matter would come back more vengeful than ever… irreparably so. Would anything they tried work then? How many more would die, or worse? How much more history would be lost, lives destroyed, societies felled?

Dark Matter, finally, closed his eyes. “Do it.”

Distantly, one of the Judgement barrages rumbled the earth, destroying even more of Dark Matter’s army. If Dark Matter was defeated, the army wouldn’t return. Null Village would be safe. But… he’d come back later. They might not find a way to destroy him without destroying the world… just like what Necrozma wanted.

Just as Necrozma had planned.

“Why?” Owen pressed.

Dark Matter said nothing, resigned.

“Give… give me a reason,” Owen whispered.

“There is none.”

“I need… I need a reason,” Owen said. “I can’t… there’s…”

Nothing.

“Give me… a reason. Please, I…”

Nothing.

“Give me a reason! Please! There has to be a way!” He pressed a little harder.

He saw himself reaching out to Dark Matter, day after day, until the nebula had finally reached back. It was possible for Dark Matter to hope for something. It was the only way to end the cycle. He knew it was. He could still save Dark Matter and, therefore, the world.

And yet, Dark Matter wasn’t answering him. His eyes stayed closed.

“Just give me a reason, damn it!”

He squeezed too hard. A burst of light turned the flame on his tail gold. Before Owen could stop it, a weak pulse of light went from his chest to his arm to his claws, dancing over the core. A little went inside and Dark Matter’s mouth opened a little in pain. It was melting him from the inside. His face screwed up from a new, deep pain.

Owen yanked his hand away. Shadows that clung to his claws evaporated and he dispelled the gold light. A dim glow radiated from the false Charizard’s open chest, most of it that ominous red, but some of it a faint gold. Dark Matter stared emptily skyward.

“You… st… stopped…”

The wind was back. Bits of dust fell in the open wound on Dark Matter’s chest, but he didn’t seem to care.

“I can’t destroy you,” Owen said, voice trembling. “It’ll lead to Alexander taking over and bringing everyone else down. It’ll throw everything off balance. Necrozma will try to destroy the world again, won’t he? Star and Barky might go back to fighting over who deserves that power, too. And then you’ll come back, too… because you’re part of this world’s strife. And it’ll happen all over again.”

“…You have those memories…”

“I… hate you. After all I did to help you… this is what you’ve done. Coercing me into siding with you. Scaring my friends into giving in. Killing others, and… and all of this that you haven’t even told me.”

He gestured to the Voidlands around him. “If it was anyone else, anything else, I… I don’t think I’d spare you the same way. But I need to save this world. That’s… the purpose I was given. A-and it’s the only one I agree with. Kilo gave me a second chance. This whole world is a second chance. And… you’re part of it… so you had a second chance, too.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Even if you’ve squandered it.”

More rumbling. This one was harder, like it was running out of targets and was instead bombarding raw earth. Owen’s light had all but faded by now… but, somehow, perhaps from some mutual resonance between the two, Owen knew that Dark Matter was done fighting.

“I’m so tired.” Dark Matter’s voice was slow but not deliberate, and it was like his whole body had deflated. “Every second, I can feel the pain of the world. I can’t stop it. I am… this world’s negativity. And I cannot feel… these mythical things called joy, or contentment, or even… safety. It’s only absence… emptiness. Why… must you force me to continue this? Please… let it end… please…

The sound that came afterward was… familiar, yet foreign. A mournful, weak roar, maybe even a cry, but it was so filled with despair that the already dead trees sagged around them, sharing his grief.

Owen couldn’t stand to hear it for very long. Wincing, he stepped closer and, when Dark Matter’s long, drawn-out weep had subsided, he said, “It’s not fair. But… that’s how it is. And I’m here to change it. And I need your help. Please… I’m not going to show you some new way like Anam. And I’m not going to defend you like I once did.”

Owen held his hand out. The wind picked up again, carrying a charge that he didn’t recognize. It felt like neither his nor Dark Matter’s power. “I’m going to fight. Just… do it with me. One last time. I’m not trying the same thing again.”

He stared Dark Matter directly in the eyes, and neither could look away.

Owen kept his hand extended. “Please.”

They could have stayed like that for an eternity and Owen would not have been able to tell. Dark Matter, staring at the hand. Owen, staring at the demon’s eyes, a mixture of hatred, resignation, understanding, patience… He didn’t know how much of that was out of compassion and how much out of obligation. But it was enough.

Dark Matter reached for Owen’s hand, and Owen was almost positive—maybe it was a trick of the eye—that Dark Matter smiled just then. He held Owen’s firmly and looked him in the eyes.

He was about to say something. But then his expression washed into a mixture of alarm and horror as he stared at something over Owen’s shoulder. The next thing Owen knew, Dark Matter yanked Owen to the ground and pushed himself forward, holding his arms and wings wide.

Dark Matter conjured a black barrier in front of him, but it shattered just as quickly. A javelin of light plunged through Dark Matter’s chest, through his core, and then into Owen’s own chest right after. A horrible, searing pain of his own light used against him blotted out all senses. Some of the shards of Dark Matter’s core dug into Owen’s scales, but it narrowly missed his heart. Dark Matter’s body had stopped its advance by mere inches.

“D… Dark…”

The false Charizard’s body crumpled lifelessly to the ground.

And, with him fallen, Owen saw the source. As the javelin dissolved and as Dark Matter’s body liquefied into a colorless sludge, a lone Hydreigon descended a stone’s throw away. His right head was partway dissolved from where he’d thrown the javelin. There was a mad grin spread across the two remaining heads.

“Hello,” Alexander said, “Owen. So glad… to see you again.”
 

Dragonfree

Moderator
Staff
Location
Iceland
Pronouns
she/her/hers
Partners
  1. butterfree
  2. mightyena
  3. charizard
  4. scyther-mia
  5. vulpix
  6. slugma
Hey, Namo! I'd written down partial reviews for the prologue and chapter one ages ago, so I think it's about time I actually got around to at the very least posting those. For now I reread the prologue and finished what I'd written before; should be able to get to chapter one tomorrow, hopefully.

Prologue

Something that stuck out about the first couple of scenes is that both Amia and Alex's names are first used in a way that's ambiguous - it's not clear whether they're referring to the Gardevoir/Magmortar already established or to some other previously unmentioned characters who are also present. Could be smoothed out.

I enjoyed how it starts with Owen just getting skewered a couple of different ways. His mother first heals him but then something else takes over, something she's either causing or at least understands and is okay with judging by her trying to shush him to sleep while it's happening. My impressions of Owen's predicament from Blacklight are fairly vague, but I assume one way or another he's getting his memory erased there. (Or, well, to the extent that still leaves him with the ability to have vivid dreams about it. Poor guy.)

Right before going to bed, his mind felt muddled again. In the corner of his eye, he saw an eerie glow. His consciousness abruptly cut out.
The eerie glow being out of the corner of his eye makes it sound like it's physically there, sooo definitely guessing it's his mom who's responsible.

“I had one of those. But I can’t remember any of it. I think I was having a really big fight. I remember my heart racing!”
oh BOY

Sure is an Owen, thinking that was a really good dream.

“Oh, Owen, m-maybe you’re just nervous about all this,” his mother said. “Becoming stronger, more responsibilities. Being part of the Thousand Hearts is a big deal, after all! …If you get in. Remember, there’s no shame in failing the exams.”
She doesn't want him to pass, does she.

. “So… today’s the day, right?” Alex asked, breaking the tense silence.
There's a weird period at the start of this paragraph for some reason.

“W-wait!” Alex said. “Did you meditate?!”
Huh. That's kind of a funny thing for a Magmortar to be very preoccupied with his Charmander son doing.

Alex’s fire finally returned to something normal in size. “I hope he isn’t self-conscious of his size. It might affect how strong he is, even if he’s stronger than the average Charmander, you know, given the…”

Amia giggled, patting Alex on the shoulders, completely unaffected by the flames. “He’s got a strong will, though, and he’s resourceful, too. He’ll make up for it. And who knows? Maybe this adventure is what he needs to control that spirit of his.” She sighed, staring at the empty bowl Owen left behind. “I wish Rhys was still here. Maybe we wouldn’t have had to…”
So Rhys is a brother(?) who died/disappeared, and as a result of this Owen's parents had to make some sort of deal that's behind all the weirdness here - Owen getting his memory wiped repeatedly, etc.?

Amia bit her lip. “I know, dear. But that Dungeon is safer than most. If he runs into any trouble, well, it’ll be better there than anywhere else. You know it’s me they’re after, not him.”
Hmmm, intriguing.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” Alex rubbed his cannons together. “If I was just a little stronger, I could have defended us both. But I just… evaporated after the first strike. Curse this body. It’s so foreign, even now. Sometimes I wish I…”
Okay, so he's not originally a Magmortar. A human-turned-Pokémon, perhaps? (I don't seem to have thought of this possibility when I was first reading, which is a bit funny - I guess I originally took this to be a PMD fic of the no humans at all variety.)

Overall, this definitely grabbed my attention; everything is incredibly ominous and I am scared, and opening with some skewering is always a good way to hook me in. The sheer amount of almost saying some information but then trailing off in the ending scene may have been a little much. :P It was fun to come back to this after Blacklight; I think when I started reading it originally was when Blacklight had only just started or so? Though it illuminated less than I might have expected Blacklight to spoil it originally; I still don't feel like I have all that much of an idea what's going on! Which is probably good, as far as I'm concerned.
 

Namohysip

Dragon Enthusiast
Staff
Partners
  1. flygon
  2. charizard
  3. milotic
  4. zoroark-soda
  5. sceptile
  6. marowak
  7. jirachi
Hey Free, thanks for reviewing! I'm glad it was an interesting hook! Yeah, the early prose is a little rough. I should really get around to polishing it up once my buffer is replenished some, particularly with the information withholding when I probably don't need to. Lots of mystery right off, and that's going to be the trend for a good while as all the pieces fall into place.

Blacklight will probably spoil a few details here and there, but Owen certainly didn't go over his whole life story. Some key spoilers are probably clear to you... but from what I've seen, that gives a different, but not lesser, experience when reading HoC. Hopefully it works out!
 

Dragonfree

Moderator
Staff
Location
Iceland
Pronouns
she/her/hers
Partners
  1. butterfree
  2. mightyena
  3. charizard
  4. scyther-mia
  5. vulpix
  6. slugma
Chapter 1

Owen walked with a spring in his step, tail flame blazing happily. The caverns that he lived in had no natural sunlight, but the mushrooms that lined the rocky walls and ceilings gave more than enough light. Not that it mattered; complete darkness was a foreign concept to most Charmander.
I enjoy this sentiment of darkness being a foreign concept.

Other villagers made their homes in these rocky caves, mostly Fire Pokémon like himself. In that sense, his adoptive mother was an exception to the population, though she could deal with the heat like any other Fire could.
The phrasing of this feels a little contradictory. It says Amia is an exception to the population (presumably by not being a Fire-type), but also that she could deal with heat like any other Fire could, and the other implies she is a Fire-type. Like, if you have a human able to do something only Pokémon can normally do, you wouldn't say they can do it "like any other Pokémon", you'd say they can do it "like any Pokémon", right? I wouldn't entirely put it past her to be a Fire-type, given you had hybrids in the prologue, but I don't think that's what I'm actually meant to take away from this.

Owen stopped, spotting a large Arcanine bounding over to him. “Hi, Granny Arcanine!”

“Oh, hush, I’m not that old. Auntie Arcanine is just fine.” Despite this, she smiled, passing a small bag of apples over. “You’re going on a little mock-expedition, are you? I gathered these up just for you.”
Not a literal blood relation, then, presumably, but some form of friend of the family. I figure his parents (or at least his mom) presumably aren't either, unless you've really messed with how breeding works, which I wouldn't really put past you but.

Though, now that he thought about it, he didn’t see a lot of other villagers pass through this area. They usually kept to themselves—it was a secret location, after all. Which made it even cooler.
Seems a little weird for that to be a "now that he thought about it" thing, if it's a secret location?

I'm a little confused by the phrasing again, though. I guess the secret location specifically is this tunnel that leads to the Waypoint? But in that case, what does the villagers "keeping to themselves" have to do with this specific tunnel being a secret location - surely if they keep to themselves, that's not because this one tunnel is secret? The phrasing suggests these two things are related but I can't see how they could be.

The first time I read this, though, I read it differently - like "They" refers to Owen's family rather than the villagers, and the "secret location" is the part of the caves that they live in. On the reread that doesn't quite rhyme with the phrasing or how you described the layout of the cave in the opening, which is why I'm leaning against that being what you meant, but it does seem to make more sense of the "keeping to themselves" if it's Owen's family that keep to themselves in a secret offshoot of the caves.

Either way, it's cute that Owen thinks being secret makes a place cooler.

Owen stepped off of the tile, swung his arms back, and hopped a bit higher into the air, putting his full weight and gravity behind the jump. The tile depressed a little, but still, nothing happened.

He used to open this so easily. Did he lose weight? Muscle weighed more than fat. Owen worriedly pinched at his gut, wondering if his chubby Charizard genes were coming through before the rest. But it felt normal.

The apparently lightweight Charmander scanned the ground and found a large rock. That’ll do. He hauled it over with him and jumped onto the tile again.
I enjoy this bit - the mundanity of it being weight-activated and not activating, Owen worrying it means he's been losing muscle (I'm betting this is actually plot-relevant somehow), the simple problem-solving of fetching a rock to do the trick.

Embedded into the ground was a flat, silvery hexagon with a few dim lights lining the sides. The lights weren’t very bright in the morning sun—it was mostly for visibility at night. Instead, it made for a colorful, intricate pattern that, from what Owen had read, was meant to be aesthetically pleasing, and had little other functional value.
The law of conservation of detail is making me think the pattern is not just meant to be aesthetically pleasing at all.

The name "Thousand Hearts" is definitely significant.

That feeling always nagged at him. The idea that something wasn’t right with anything he did. Not that he did it incorrectly, but that something, in general, felt wrong. Even now, it tugged at his mind.
This is definitely also significant. Could just be general memory side-effects, buuuut it's more fun if it's more than that.

I like Owen's doubts about whether maybe he can't evolve because he grew up without a Charizard around. (And there's the confirmation he's adopted.)

Owen saw an Alakazam whose mustache was large enough for Owen to walk on like a carpet. Owen’s gut twisted with a feeling he couldn’t comprehend. But then, he shoved that feeling away, and instead tried to take in exactly who he was talking to.
Definitely also significant. I feel like I've vaguely osmosed that Nevren is a very bad guy, but even without that, oof no bad, definitely met him before in some very stressful context

Owen felt a cold pit in his stomach at that analytical gaze. Was he being judged, right there, by one of the most Elite Hearts in the whole world?

Nevren nodded. “I see potential. Quite a bit!”

“Y’do?!” Owen said, worries gone instantly. “Wow! Okay! Then I’ll definitely do better!”
Oh no, Owen.

Owen’s heart fluttered as if he’d seen old friends. Yet, he didn’t even know their names.
Yuuuup, definitely already met them too.

“Oh! Wait—late evolvers. Is that real?” Owen had just made up the term, but they used it, too. Owen’s tail-fire burned a bit brighter at the validation.
Oh noooo. Love him insistently using this term and then being surprised to hear it's real. What a bean. (Presumably they learned it from him, or maybe even him from them, during a previous memory iteration. Wonder if they're going through the same thing - it seems pretty likely that the resetting is causing the late evolution.)

“Lucario Rhys,” Demitri said.

There was the smallest pause from Owen. He knew the answer. He knew these three were his students. Trapinch Gahi, Axew Demitri, Chikorita Mispy. It was obvious to him! But why? No, don’t look crazy. Not today, Owen thought. He feigned a beaming expression. “He’s so cool! He’s the aura expert, right?”

“Yeah,” Demitri said. “And he’s super tough!”

“I already met Alakazam Nevren a little while ago! Those two are friends, right?! Oh, can I meet—I mean,” he paused. “Um… I mean…”
I may be completely off-base about Rhys being Owen's brother, but then again maybe not. Owen not knowing about the connection doesn't seem at all incongruous given how much seems to be hidden from him.

Owen watched them with a tilted head. Their entire conversation felt like one giant déjà vu. Everything today did. He shook his head; if he kept thinking like this, his entire day would be ruined. He forced excitement to take over. He had an exploration to do!
What an Owen. Everything is wrong and off-kilter but if he keeps thinking about it his day will be ruined, so just going to ignore all that, pretend it never happened.

“My signature attack—Fire Trap!” he said to the wind.
This feels kind of silly but honestly it doesn't seem that farfetched that Owen would do this. What an Owen.

Being at such a disadvantage, he had trained day and night to perfect a delayed Fire attack, should he ever be caught off guard when handling things one on one. He wasn’t really sure how long he had actually trained; long enough to forget when he actually learned the technique, at least. Still, it took time for him to do it. He could only use it if he had a big opening. But that wasn’t so bad. Now, if only he could figure out how to run away and use the attack at the same time.
So Owen booby-trapped the tunnel behind him before he sat down to eat? I gueeess what must have happened is he set the trap before the ferals at the start of the scene even appeared, and they were coming from the other direction that he didn't booby-trap? But I think the natural read of what's happening at the start of the scene is that he's just making his way along the tunnel and happens to rest there after the fight, so it really feels like we just missed something when it turns out some trap existed all along.

(I'm assuming it existed all along, anyway - it sure doesn't sound like Owen is doing anything when the Pokémon behind him appears, much less anything time-consuming that requires a big opening.)

The Snorlax, however, was anything but. A single swing from its mighty fist would turn Owen to a fine, red mist.
Dramatic, but it feels a bit implausible physically that being swung at with a fist, no matter how powerful, could vaporize him (as opposed to like, crush him into a pulp), so I got kind of distracted by that rather than appreciating the stakes being established.

And we cut off on a minor cliffhanger. Not that I really expect the Aerodactyl to stick around, but I like that you're keeping up the action and the sense that Owen's in pretty deep (and also I just get a kick out of the Aerodactyl's reasoning for frequenting this place - yeah, that would be handy for an Aerodactyl). I enjoyed that Owen tries to scare him off by saying he knows Nevren - guessing that's going to be pretty ironic before long.

This is old writing and accordingly a liiittle rough in places (very familiar with that), but I think it all does the job well regardless and the story gets across fine, aside from those couple bits where I was confused by what you were implying. Everything is still very ominous. My favorite bits here were probably the Owen being cute, though - just little bits like the whole thing about insisting on being a late evolver and then being surprised and validated when that's an actual term other people use. He's just sweet and lovable and I like reading about him.

I also enjoy that you're keeping up the stakes. Prologue skewerings are one thing, but chapter one also immediately featuring near-death situations isn't nearly as common. Good energy that makes me want to keep reading.
 

Namohysip

Dragon Enthusiast
Staff
Partners
  1. flygon
  2. charizard
  3. milotic
  4. zoroark-soda
  5. sceptile
  6. marowak
  7. jirachi
Glad to hear, Free! As for two specific comments...

I wouldn't entirely put it past her to be a Fire-type, given you had hybrids in the prologue, but I don't think that's what I'm actually meant to take away from this.

Ha, yeah, this was a bit of an accident but probably an unintended slip of the tongue. As implied in the prologue, Amia has quite a bit of Fire power in her, but the way it's presented (what with being a Gardevoir) means that she isn't actually of the Fire type. It's a weird gray area in the way the wording happened.

I'm a little confused by the phrasing again, though. I guess the secret location specifically is this tunnel that leads to the Waypoint?

This was unclear on my part. The secret location is a cave on the side of a hill; the Waypoint is actually far along the path from here, basically a walk along the dirt road (that I didn't depict for the sake of conciseness).

--

I do appreciate that you're already familiar enough with/paranoid of my style that little pauses to describe things feel like 'this'll be important later' moments.
 

windskull

Bidoof Fan
Staff
Partners
  1. sneasel-nip
  2. bidoof
  3. absol
  4. kirlia
  5. windskull-bidoof
  6. little-guy-windskull
  7. purugly
  8. mawile
Hi Namo! Decided to do a long overdue review over a few chapters. I'm covering parts 91-93 with this review. It's gonna be a little bit looser since these chapters are getting a bit old, but I hope you find it useful regardless. As a quick aside, I am having to use speech to text to write most of this review so if anything is a little off I apologize in advance.

Part 91 feels like it is used to primarily establish/set up a few things. We get to see a little bit more about Angelo and his family's legacy and the frankly negative effect that it's had on him. We find out a little bit more about what items and systems have been affected by the loss of Anam, and we get to see some of the effects of that. I think it was a good idea to end the chapter with the appearance of the druddigon, when his death was established shortly before. death. It does everything short of outright confirming what happens to people if they die right now. I don't think it was outright stated prior to this.

We also get to meet back up with Trina and learn a bit more about her personality. Now, it's been a while since I read the earlier chapters, but I feel like I remember the reader experience with Trina up to this point being fairly limited, so I think it's great that we're getting to spend some more time with her. I found her discussion with Gahi enlightening; despite her fairly regal appearance and general presentation she acts a lot more humble compared to some of the other characters.

Next, let's get into the stew chapter. I have to admit this is one of the weirder ones, but it serves a purpose: it helps us get a better understanding of how the voidlands work. I do have to say I found Owen's behavior a little bit concerning after he realizes it's his own carcass near the end of the scene. He almost comes across as delirious which while that's not the case I don't think he's definitely not healthy.

Also while I'm thinking about it I feel like the fact that Hakk and Xypher saw Owen fall implies that they were the ones that found and cooked his body. Which is… interesting, for lack of a better term.

We also get to see the aftermath of how Angelo is feeling after that unfortunate incident at the hospital. I feel bad for the guy; just let him paint. At the same time I can't blame anyone for wanting his help when he has the ability to help. It's a little bit of an interesting quandary if you ask me. Is one side more in the right? It boils down to individual values. What they’re willing to put above other things their own health or other people's safety.

As for the last sections of the chapter, I'm not sure he meant to but Arceus did a good job of feeling haughty. But it looks like we won't be getting much direct help from him for a while. Well… direct probably isn't the right word, but he won't be able to help with things locally. Instead, he has to keep the big bad from advancing. I can't remember if anything has happened with regards to that since I left off. I'm a few chapters behind but not significantly.

I'll be honest, I completely forgot about the events of part 93 until rereading it for this review. I do like this part. I think it's a great little scene about Har and his team and how much they've grown differently from team alloy, and it does add some levity to a grim situation. At the same time, it does end up slowing down an already slow opening to act 3 and I do kind of wonder if there might have been a better place for it. Maybe it would have been better to have it after Owen reaches Null village? Mind you, I have yet to finish catching back up and there may be some parts that I've forgotten that would make it hard for this to be in a different position. But it's just something to keep in mind.

I'm going to go ahead and wrap the review here. I know it mostly focuses on broad strokes of the chapters and I wish I was going a little bit more in depth. But this is a long story, and I would rather talk about what they mean for the story as a whole than to try and drill down into any one of these chapters. Hopefully if things work out I'll review another chunk of chapters before the end of the blitz, and I'll try to give more detailed thoughts at that point in time. Until then.
 

Namohysip

Dragon Enthusiast
Staff
Partners
  1. flygon
  2. charizard
  3. milotic
  4. zoroark-soda
  5. sceptile
  6. marowak
  7. jirachi
Thanks for the feedback, Windskull! Glad to hear your thoughts as always, and yeah, this was the slower part of Act III before I finally learned how to kick things into gear without scope creep messing things up more than it should. Some more specific responses...

Also while I'm thinking about it I feel like the fact that Hakk and Xypher saw Owen fall implies that they were the ones that found and cooked his body. Which is… interesting, for lack of a better term.

The Voidlands has some... different moralities now and then. Scavenging for some fresh meat isn't too bad, all things considered, in a place like this. Otherwise, what else is gonna get it, really?

I feel bad for the guy; just let him paint.

He feels bad about himself too.

Maybe it would have been better to have it after Owen reaches Null village?

That would have been a good idea, yeah. All that stuff was largely independent of everything else going on. I guess I wanted to break up then pacing a little, but then again the whole Nil Plateaus arc was soooo drawn out. I really should have cut down on it. Last time I do NaNoWriMo for HoC for sure.

Still, thanks for reading! Glad you enjoyed it even on a reread.
 
Chapter 126 - Outskirt Showdown

Namohysip

Dragon Enthusiast
Staff
Partners
  1. flygon
  2. charizard
  3. milotic
  4. zoroark-soda
  5. sceptile
  6. marowak
  7. jirachi
Author’s Note: It’s Alexander versus Owen, so… this chapter has more violence, blood, etc. than usual, and has a temporary rating of M.

Chapter 126 – Outskirt Showdown

Dark Matter was nothing but a pile of sludge in front of Owen. The Charmeleon’s own light had been depleted to the point where he could barely draw enough energy for another attack. He was too far away from the Radiant Tree of Life to get more, even as he heard the panicked shouts of the spirits watching through his eyes. Hopeless as the events unfolded in front of them.

Owen did not know how to fight Alexander. It was only the two of them. He’d hoped that everyone else would be able to fend him off, and then he would work with Dark Matter, somehow, to take Alexander down next.

But in a single blow, Alexander dashed that option.

“H-how… did…”

“How?” Alexander repeated. “I saw what you did…” His smile didn’t fade. The dissolved head wasn’t regenerating, but it was stable enough that perhaps it would in time. “A mighty blast of light to weaken Dark Matter. How lucky that I was not struck by that same power, or perhaps I would have had a few bruises…”

Owen eyed the missing head again.

Alexander must have noticed, because he frowned, furrowing his scaly brows. “Dark Matter was a nuisance. Keeping me from rightfully claiming the Voidlands that I had tended to and created a safe place out of for centuries. I already stole away some of his power once. Now, it’s time for me to take the rest.”

Alexander was upon them, looming over the sludge like a predator over its kill. Owen was only a few feet away, instincts telling him to run, everything else telling him to stay. He stood his ground. On Alexander, there was still that mad grin, too, as he opened wide and sank his fangs into the remains.

“What—what are you doing?!” Owen shouted over the crunching. Some instinctual part of him knew this was bad. That was Dark Matter. Alexander was—was taking some part of it. No, he couldn’t let that happen.

“STOP!”

Owen lunged forward. He expected an initial parry, so he weaved to the left. His judgement was accurate—he narrowly dodged a quick blast from his remaining head, and then deflected one with a quick barrier. He hissed at the recoil; Alexander’s attacks were strong. Those Shadow beams felt like they would kill him in one swoop if they were at full power…

Balling his fist, he was unable to create light, and instead encased it in flames as he pounded Alexander’s nose. It was like punching stone. Still, even as Alexander chomped and crunched on the shattered core, Owen punched and punched, grabbing at a few of the red shards that had once been Dark Matter’s core and scattering them about.

That got to Alexander. He stopped eating and went for Owen instead, and Owen was too slow. The major head clamped down on Owen’s arm and unceremoniously twisted it backwards. Owen wailed and Alexander tossed him into the tree.

The arm was broken in three places. He couldn’t clench his fist anymore. It wasn’t responding. He didn’t want to look. Fleetingly, Owen wondered if attempting his backup plan would give him better luck, but he quashed the thought. Not yet.

With his good arm, he staggered back to his feet, distracted.

When he looked forward again, two empty eyes stared back—the remaining, minor head. It opened wide and clamped over his throat.

“A-ahh… ugg…!” Owen couldn’t breathe.

Alexander’s face was dripping with dark sludge. “Do you really think you can stop me?” he said. “Make me flinch? After how small, tired, pathetic you’ve become? You did my job for me. You put Dark Matter at his weakest. And now…” Alexander leaned closer, his breath in Owen’s nose. It smelled like cold death. Every syllable was like a crunch of a leaf in wintertime, grinding against his head and threatening his inner fire.

He still couldn’t breathe.

“Just what should I do to you… before I drag you to the dungeons, I wonder?” Alexander pondered, squeezing tighter. “Rip your arms off… and one leg… leaving you to hop back home? And then I take you anyway… You wouldn’t bother to run, would you? Would you prefer that?”

He didn’t understand why Alexander was doing this. Why? Why was he taunting him? He already couldn’t fight back! What was the point?

He’s drunk with the power of Shadows, Owen heard. His eyes bugged out; where had he heard that voice? He couldn’t tell where it came from…

“You’re responsible for me being here, you know. Do you remember that?” Alexander pressed more, only giving enough room for a single breath so Owen didn’t pass out. “Do you remember? That wonderful little war…”

He didn’t. He really didn’t. Perhaps Alex would have known the full story there. But this wasn’t adding up. Was Alexander alive during the era of Legends? No, that was impossible. Alexander was Alex’s father, and surely, they were not alive when he was the Wishkeeper.

Was this the other war?

There had been two…

It was all a blur. Owen didn’t know what was what. His arm being broken and his body in general bleeding all over wasn’t doing him any favors, either. Or perhaps it would… Tentatively, Owen tested something silently. He felt a dull, painful throb in his broken arm. That pocket of energy he’d stored there in case of emergency was still there. Alexander hadn’t ruptured it.

“Answer me,” Alexander snarled, clamping harder on his throat.

He tried to speak—didn’t know what—but no words came. No air to exhale.

And then he let go and Owen could breathe again. He gasped a deep, loud breath, and then seconds later a deep pressure snapped his other arm—he’d gone for that one next. Owen didn’t scream this time and that seemed to perplex Alexander.

“Cry,” he snarled, pressing harder.

He is addicted to misery.

“CRY!”
Alexander blasted Owen in the chest, blowing half of his scales off in one strike.

It won’t satisfy him for long.

For a fleeting moment, Owen’s vision was clear. Far from him, he saw ice and water. Fliers in the air. But they weren’t going to reach him; their path was askew.

Maybe crying was a good idea.

“I said cry,” Alexander snarled, pressing into his shoulder.

“S-STOOOP!” Owen screamed, letting out a bloody, agonized roar, hiding his disgust as Alexander’s face twisted into an ecstatic grin. He pressed again and Owen cried in unison.

This was humiliating. His body was already in some kind of shock because he couldn’t feel any of it. He fell to the ground. Alexander pressed his good head against his back, drilling a spear of darkness into his spine. The cold spike felt like it was carefully avoiding vitals.

Owen screamed again and Alexander hissed with delight. The mangled Charmeleon’s eyes scanned the ground, then at where he’d seen the fliers and ice. Their path had changed, and suddenly. Quickly. With purpose.

Did you just utilize your own pain to call them?

Where are you? Owen called. Are you… Dark Matter?

…I don’t know where I am.

“You… stopped crying. Wake up.”
Alexander pulled Owen back to his feet, biting into his shoulder with the smaller head to do so.

Owen couldn’t move his arms and standing was difficult and unbalanced. Still, he stared at Alexander, savoring his breaths. How was he still alive? Something was keeping him alive far longer than it should have. But he couldn’t afford to die yet… So, that worked out.

“Can you even hear me anymore?” Alexander said. “Wake up. Feel this. You—”

“You really can’t control that power… can you?” Owen wheezed, looking up. He couldn’t really tell, but he suspected his throat was going to hurt later from all that wailing. “It’s controlling you, isn’t it?”

Alexander furrowed his brow, like he didn’t understand. There was something frenzied about him that felt… uncharacteristic. All he’d heard about this tyrant was that he was cold and calculated; when he tried to torment someone, it wasn’t with this kind of primal disregard. But Owen couldn’t afford to spend time puzzling over that now, staring at him, helpless. He had to distract him. There was just one part left of his plan to execute. He’d saved it, never needing that desperate gambit for Dark Matter after gaining that upper hand.

“Don’t think you know what I’m capable of and what I’m not.”

This was getting tiresome. But Owen wondered, in the back of his mind, if that was what Alexander wanted. Owen wasn’t afraid of Alexander. He was furious. But he didn’t have the power to strike back… And now, Alexander was a hair’s width away from losing himself to the darkness he’d just acquired. Was that better, or worse? Maybe he could take advantage of that…

His thoughts were cut off by another crushing blow to his sternum. Several deep cracks echoed and he wheezed out a bubble of blood, falling again.

“I’ll show you how weak you truly are,” he finally said. The Hydreigon’s main head sank its fangs into the back of Owen’s already broken shoulder. Something cold ran through his blood like ice, like it was trying to grasp at something inside him, pull it away, corrode it, encapsulate it… Defiantly, Owen fought back. His muscles couldn’t move, his mind felt muddled from the pain, but something else fought back in full and unrestrained force.

And, like some reflex, Alexander sputtered into his shoulder and reeled backwards. His mouth was coated in blood, but the blackened color… That wasn’t Owen’s blood. His jaws were agape with confusion as sludge dripped from his melted teeth and blistered tongue.

Yes… Light. He couldn’t break past Owen’s light.

Never lose… that smile, little flower…

“Something wrong?” Owen asked, his voice a pathetic rasp. “Too… spicy?”

Alexander brought his good minor head to his face to wipe some of the sludge away, wincing. “You…”

“So long as you don’t break my spirit, there is going to be no way you’ll ever claim it.” Owen coughed out a laugh. “Dark Matter might have been defeated, but I won’t be. Not by you… No matter what you try.”

Alexander was trembling with frustration, but not fear. It was a standoff. Owen wondered if he could turn off his light at all, should the torment be too much, but it was only a fleeting thought. Alexander was thinking. If he could wait it out a little longer…

Yes, Alexander was thinking of ways to break Owen’s spirit, now. Owen had inadvertently give that hint, though he wasn’t really sure if it was true. This light was innate. Even at his lowest, it had always been there. Xypher had said as much, during those last dying breaths. He couldn’t lose his light, even if he wanted to.

How could he use that, how could he use that? Owen puzzled over this while Alexander stared him in the face. Owen wondered if he’d try tearing it off. He wouldn’t put it past the savage thing.

Would he need to make use of that gambit after all? Maybe if Alexander needed time to think, he’d carry him away and not hurt anyone else. That, now, was his goal. He had to force Alexander to flee, even if it meant taking him away. Before anyone else got hurt. He needed to apply some pressure.

He had just a little bit of light remaining that wasn’t innate to himself. He’d implanted that energy into parts of his body, just in case, like traps. Traps that had burned Alexander by surprise, of course… but they were also traps he could detonate himself, no different than one he would have put in the soil.

Time was hard to keep track of, but Owen’s patience was finally answered with an Ice Beam to the back of Alexander’s head. He stumbled forward from where he floated, but it, despite everything, did not harm him. But it was enough to get his attention.

Leading the charge was Zena, shimmering from her own glow, her powers enhanced by the residual Radiant energy of the Tree’s blast. Just behind her were Demitri and Mispy, both looking a little slow. Owen spotted hints of melting ice on their body from their traveling method. In the sky was Gahi, panting heavily, as well as Jerry and another Jerry behind him. Lingering further, but with a fierce look in his eyes, was Alex, the other Hydreigon, riddled with hastily sealed wounds and one eye half-closed.

“Looks like you’re out of time,” Owen said. “Your underlings… What do you think happened to them?”

The glare that followed almost made Owen flinch, but it wasn’t enough.

“Owen!” Zena looked between Alexander and Owen. The Hydreigon turned toward her, and instantly she blasted him with ice. It was weak—which made sense. While related, it was not her true element, Orb or otherwise.

“Let him go,” Mispy demanded, struggling to get each word out, and yet her snarling tone forced her onward.

Rather than reply with words, Alexander opened his mouth and spat a glob of darkness toward Mispy. Demitri stepped in and hurled a tusk at it, splitting it in half; it instantly exploded, but nothing got onto the team. A psychic aura enveloped the tusk and withdrew it back to Demitri’s hands.

“Yer outnumbered,” Gahi spat. “Attack!”

Owen winced. They should have opened with a taunt and nothing more—a bluff. Because…

A flurry of attacks rained down. Ice, Solar Beams, indigo flames, Psychic blasts… Eon contributed with gusts of wind that seemed to drill through the air, and Jerry, watching cautiously, crept toward the team to get into some other position. Owen wasn’t sure why; there was some sort of recognition in the Aerodactyl’s eyes. But he wasn’t attacking.

Alexander countered all of it with a single pulse of Shadows. Zena yelped and tried to slither back. Mispy braced and primed another Solar Beam while Demitri brought his arms back to toss both of his tusks. Alex seemed fiercer than ever, not even flinching at the initial shockwave. A second volley of dragon fire slammed into Alexander’s face, the sheer force bringing his head down. Alexander snarled louder at that, followed by one of Demitri’s tusks lodging itself in his chest.

That earned a deep, bellowing growl, and Owen was suddenly filled with horrible dread. “GET AWAY!”

Too late. Cutting crescents of darkness radiated out from Alexander in all directions, more powerful and concentrated than they had been before. Alexander’s guard was down when he’d done so, but that didn’t matter if his foes couldn’t take the hits. All of the trees behind Owen’s friends were sliced to bits, while their bodies, barely able to resist it, were left with deep gashes all over.

Demitri screamed and held one of his arms where Owen saw bone; Mispy had lacerations all over her front and couldn’t slither forward with most of her vines severed; Alex lost the opposite diminutive head that Alexander had; Zena dodged most of it, but lost one of her ribbons, which bled at the severed end; Jerry was a little bruised, but Owen was certain a few had gone his way. Had he dodged them when Owen wasn’t looking? And Eon was clutching at a missing wing that oozed pink slime.

All from just one retaliatory attack. They wouldn’t stand a chance. Please, go away! Owen begged, but they, of course, didn’t hear him. You don’t want to—

Zena glanced behind her for a split-second too long. The world moved slowly just then as Alexander’s missing head regenerated, but not as something of scales and flesh, but of darkness and red, glowing eyes. Its razor-sharp fangs extended, wraith-like mouth agape, as it wrapped around Zena’s midsection as she tried to reel back.

And then he crunched, splitting her in two.

Owen could only watch, unable to find his voice, croaking out half of her name. Zena’s upper body collapsed to the ground while her lower half flopped lifelessly in the opposite direction. Mispy collapsed, unconscious from residual effects that her healing couldn’t outpace. Demitri was trying to shake her awake.

“Who to kill next,” Alexander hummed to himself, eyes scanning the fallen crowd. He aimed again, but missed completely and looked perplexed. In the corner of Owen’s eyes, there was a distortion of light. His Perceive weakly informed him that it was Enet, hiding in the darkness. Could Alexander sense her? If she wasn’t careful…

“St-stop,” Owen said. “I’ll…”

“You think you can stop me?” Alexander said. “I’ll kill all of them… and then take you back. You are powerless.”

“Powerless…” That was it, then. It all clicked into place.

Alexander was toying with him, extending his suffering, not only because he was addicted to it, but because he thought he could get away with it. Torturing his friends because he could. Prolonging all of this pointless torment because it fed him more. Gluttony and tyranny.

It looked like that final backup plan was good after all.

Owen took a few breaths. Quick ones. He tried to make them deep, but it wasn’t enough. Not for what he knew had to be done. Then, screwing his eyes shut, gritting his teeth, he concentrated on the power in his arm. Something pulsed there like a heart, and then there was a flash even in the corners of his closed eyes, and a blast sent Owen flying a foot to the left. He’d gone into some kind of shock because he couldn’t feel anything but cold. The first trap exploded, the one planted right in his arm.

Alexander stared back with surprise, moments away from attacking someone else. “What—”

“I’ll do it again,” Owen stuttered. “I st… still have… one arm left. My legs. My heart. My head. I’ll… I can destroy any of them.” Owen curled his body, inching his way back until he could sit upright. In at least five different ways he should have been dead, but some combination of light and dark kept him breathing.

But he still needed a head, surely. That, he believed, and that firm tone and doubtless mind would be enough to convince Alexander of the same.

“You’ll die? You wouldn’t dare.” He smirked. “You’re afraid.”

Owen squeezed his eyes shut again. There was a throb in his other arm, now—

“STOP.”

You can’t control me.

A second explosion knocked him over, but this time he saw it coming and he braced against the tree, giving Alexander a sick smile. This reminded him of an ancient, macabre game back home, each wrong letter affecting another limb…

Gods, it hurt. His mind stopped processing the true extent of the injuries. In a strange way it felt good. Perhaps the mutant blood in him. Or perhaps he’d finally cracked. Probably both.

“You need me,” Owen said hoarsely. He didn’t know why. Not completely. Not without all his memories. But that was what everything pointed to. Necrozma, Alexander, Dark Matter, all of them valued something about him, and that was where his true power lay dormant.

“…I’ll do my head next. Then… you’ll have to find me. While everyone hunts you down… You won’t win. You’ll lose… your one chance.”

Alexander looked trapped—finally, a sign of hesitance. Perhaps he was even lucid, that tiny, calculating part of his mind pushing through the Shadow-stupor he’d plunged himself into.

It was time to go for the kill.

“Leave my friends alone,” Owen said slowly, “and you can have me.”

Alexander blinked, trying to weigh the options. He was calculating his odds again. He was coming back from that brief, overwhelming drunkenness. That would be bad for Owen. He could find an opening, see through the gambit…

“Otherwise…” Owen closed his eyes. A dull, rapidly intensifying headache throbbed—

“No—you… have some sense.”

He let the dull pain ebb away, fighting back nausea.

“…Hmph. You’re lucky, then. But don’t think you can—”

A beam of ice struck Alexander on the side. He stared, somewhere between offended and surprised, at Zena’s upper half. She glared at him, blood and water dribbling from her mouth, as she steadied herself with her one good ribbon for another shot. Her eyes were wide with pain and madness.

Alexander didn’t even dignify her with a word. Raising his wraith-head, he fired. Owen’s heart dropped and suddenly everything was twice as cold.

Gray wings swooped in, absorbing the hit, and then knocking the rest of the blast into a nearby tree, where a small imprint had been left behind, but nothing more.

Jerry?

The Aerodactyl shook his wings, like they were numb, and glared up at Alexander. “You got your prize,” he snarled. “Leave us alone, beast.”

Jerry was speaking with an odd familiarity. Owen knew—well, it was obvious—that Jerry and Alexander knew nothing about one another. Yet that tone… Was Jerry speaking to someone else, in his mind?

“You have my blood,” Alexander whispered. Then, with a dismissive grunt, he drifted to Owen and picked him up by the neck. “If this is a ruse… If you destroy yourself on the way… I shall do far worse than kill them.”

It had been a possibility… but Owen looked away anyway, saying nothing. If Alexander could think he’d outsmarted Owen, then the lives of his friends would be spared after all.

Wasting little extra time, Alexander grabbed Owen with his diminutive heads and flew away with haste. The one made of Shadow seemed colder, while the normal one had streaks of indigo fire digging into his chest where it wrapped.

He had time to think, finally time to think without worry about what was going to happen within the next few seconds. Even as a scuffed-looking Arceus drifted after Alexander from a distance, a Mewtwo and Treecko on her back, Owen focused inward. He could finally hear their voices again.

Owen! What are you doing?! Was THIS your plan?! Amelia shouted, somewhere between aghast and frustrated.

It was one of them, Owen replied quietly. A fallback. He’s too strong. I’m going to buy you some time… and hold out with him. He won’t get to me.

But… if he has you, what does that mean? Why is he after YOU specifically?


Owen had his guesses. He doesn’t have me, he replied coolly. I’m here by choice. If something goes wrong, I’ll… go back. But then he’ll be mad, and… he won’t be so merciful. I have him scared right now, but it was a bluff.

But where are . . .


They were fading out. He was too far away. Owen smiled a little, eyes closed. He’d… left them all behind. Let Alexander take him. There was a crushing sense of defeat at that thought, but it was better than utter destruction. He’d saved what he could.

He gritted his teeth again, thinking of Xypher. He couldn’t save everyone. He… just couldn’t lose another. Not like that. Not to him.

Owen’s arms sprouted fleshy vines that twisted around themselves, forming makeshift arms. His body was repairing itself. Maybe their situation, too, could improve.

Zena’s final gaze never left his mind’s eye. Please, stay strong, Owen thought. I will, too. No matter what.

But the fatigue was finally setting in. He was tired. And after making sure that sleepiness wasn’t from blood loss—and, indeed, he’d stopped bleeding—and once he was sure he wouldn’t die in Alexander’s arms, he let his guard down and drifted into darkness.

The captured Charmeleon dangled, asleep, in the grasp of the Void King as they flew north. His final, waking thought was that he would soon be far and away from the closest thing in the Voidlands he could’ve called home.

<><><>​

Owen was floating in a void again. Lucid, he realized that perhaps this was probably what would now always happen when he fell asleep. At least it was restful. He could float there, not thinking, and enjoy that brief peace.

He could have stayed there forever, but lingering thoughts always reminded him of his duties. His friends. He hoped they would know this was part of… one of his plans, at least, even if it wasn’t the best one.

Dark Matter, though… He’d failed him.

What was he supposed to do there?

Eventually, stewing in his own thoughts, that peace fading to anxious stirring, a light flashed in the void. A cold pit grew in Owen’s nonexistent stomach.

He was coming again.

Preparing as much as he could, Owen steeled his nerves, stood up straight, and got ready for the third god he’d managed to defy. Maybe this time he’d actually finish him for good… No. No, he couldn’t do that yet. He still had work to do.

Necrozma appeared and Owen did not avert his eyes, though he still had to squint, pupils narrowing to slits.

“Owen,” Necrozma greeted. His voice was a little clearer this time, deep but sharp, with a constant warmth to it, or maybe that was just his presence. He hated how comforting it was.

“I hope you’re happy,” Owen said. “Dark Matter’s dead… even though I defied you.”

The dragon of light paused, puzzled, and Owen thought he saw in those multicolored eyes and crystal jaw the hints of a smirk. The god confirmed it with a chuckle. “Goodness, Owen,” he said, “you aren’t usually the sort to be wrong twice in a row.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Owen snapped, fists clenched.

“You didn’t defy me,” Necrozma said, “and Dark Matter isn’t dead. In fact… it was as I predicted. In the end, you did exactly as I had hoped. You made the right decision in the end.”

“Wh…” This threw Owen so far off that his stance faltered. His tail slumped, his shoulders fell, and before he could regain his composure, Necrozma continued.

“I’m sorry for confusing you so much, Owen. I really am. But I know you perhaps too well. If I told you to do something directly, well, after all you’ve been through, you would have certainly done the opposite.”

Flinching, Owen took a step back and searched around, expecting someone from nowhere to mock him. Necrozma was completely right. There was an instant there where Owen had thought Necrozma wanted him to kill Dark Matter… after the war that he’d spent aligning with him. And Owen had chosen not to, just to defy Necrozma, to defy some plan he refused to tell him all about.

And in the end, he’d played into it instead.

“I wanted you to make a decision for yourself,” Necrozma said. “It was perhaps the only thing I could have requested of you… that you would have followed to the very end.”

“Why?” Owen whispered. “Why… any of this? Why, after I… betrayed you… after you entrusted me with your power, and after I defied you to save Dark Matter? I don’t… I don’t get it! Why can’t you gods just make sense for once?!”

His voice echoed back to him despite there being no walls to bounce. Every breath came to him a split-second later, making him self-conscious of all the noise. Even the hum of his flame was audible.

“Gods,” Necrozma said, “seem to have a bad habit… of assuming the mortals to whom they speak would accept what they say without question. That they do not need to explain their full rationale, their whole plans, to the souls below. Or perhaps, they try, but the perspective is from something so far removed that it does not make sense.”

As Necrozma spoke, Owen calmed down. He shifted on his feet, awkward, and Necrozma made a small, downward gesture that Owen understood meant he could sit. He decided to partake in that. The ground was featureless. It was hard to find a good position, but he eventually did. He found his legs crossing and tail wrapping around, too. An old habit.

“The world you were reborn within was meant to be temporary. Created by the whim of a god with regrets… and to be eventually destroyed when those lives cut short ran their course. It was never meant to last, to sustain. It was… a bandage over a wound that time had to heal.”

“Star getting taken by the humans… and those strange experiments done to her. And then Arceus…”

“Destroying the island… and then wiping that mistake from history. Not even the world knows what happened, you know.”

Owen flinched. “It’s still there? The world?”

“It remains, and it prospers… And it had gone through and survived its own set of troubles, just as this world has. Though, time moves a lot slower there. That was by design, so those who lived here would not be too far removed from the world proper. Even if things… have gotten out of hand, the world itself isn’t far too old. I would say that perhaps only a handful of years have passed, from their perspective.”

Strange, conflicted feelings washed over him. Eon was right. He’d said the truth. And they were all alive.

“H-ha… they… they really are…”

He didn’t know why, but images of an old, wizened Charizard appeared in his thoughts, and then that stern, glaring Marowak next to her.

Owen’s eyes felt hot.

“Take your time,” Necrozma said gently. “…Dark Matter lives. He is still there, and fragments of his power remain throughout the world, both Kilo and the Voidlands. The battle is not over… but you have gained at least one thing from that clash, after all your sacrifice.

“Dark Matter… a fragment of him was left behind. Perhaps you did not notice it, but I was watching through your eyes, fleetingly. He persists in the piece that you had given light. It’s just stable enough… And also…”
He trailed off. “I think I sense some of his essence within you, too. Faintly… Perhaps that is not even him anymore. A shard must have touched your heart. Admittedly… I don’t know what that will do.”

Owen frowned, confused again. But at least he was feeling calmer. His home, his true home… Was it his true home? He’d spent so little time there compared to…

“Do you miss Kanto?” Necrozma asked.

“I do,” Owen replied automatically. “I… I do. For a lot of reasons.” Some that he did not know how to express. There was so much from before all this that he wanted back. He missed saving Pokémon with his trainer. He missed traveling the roads and helping him with homework. He missed when his greatest trouble was scheming how to defeat the neighboring Squirtle.

“Do you want to go back?”

Owen laughed weakly. He did, there was no way he could deny that. He wanted to. But— “I can’t.”

Necrozma tilted his head, as if waiting for him to elaborate.

“Even if you had the power to, even if you’re trying to offer that, I… can’t. Kilo needs me to settle all this. If I disappeared, everyone here would suffer because of it, wouldn’t they? It’d return to this stagnation… or worse, it would fall into these Voidlands. And because of how everything fell… because of where the power of your light and his darkness wound up… I don’t know if I can… leave it behind without trying, with everything I’ve been entrusted.”

Some of that, he believed. Some of that, he still didn’t fully understand. It had only been what was told to him, or how others treated him. By coincidences and luck and perhaps a little drive, he’d been given the powers of a demon and two deities. First from Mew, who wanted to cause some trouble; then from Necrozma, who wanted a new pupil with some experience already behind them; and then from Dark Matter, who only wanted help, with Owen being the first to offer it.

Barky had asked a similar question to him what felt like ages ago. He’d presented an option to give up, to submit and leave his power behind. And some things didn’t change; Owen had given the same answer to Necrozma. Would he give the same reply back? He was… far too tired to fight. And Star wouldn’t be there to rescue him this time, either.

“Then, perhaps when this is over, you can at least visit,” Necrozma concluded. “I won’t take no for an answer, hm?”

“Ha!”

It escaped Owen before he had a chance to hide it. He should have been used to being surprised by Necrozma by now, but it still got him. Necrozma hadn’t been after that at all. He had been trying to cheer him up. Gods, he was an idiot.

“Maybe after all this, sure.” He sniffled, cringing to keep the tears at bay. “Sure…”

They enjoyed the silence together. Necrozma was looking focused; it was probably taking a lot of energy to project himself in this way, but he was lasting a lot longer this time. Right, Alexander was heading north; if he got closer to Necrozma—the source of that northern feeling—would that mean it would be easier to contact him?

He sighed. He wouldn’t want to keep him. There were still a few things he had to do, and Necrozma needed to be at full strength for it.

There was one pressing question Necrozma could probably answer, though. “Can I ask something?” Owen asked after calming down.

“Of course.”

“Why me?”

Necrozma tilted his head.

“Not as in… why do bad things always happen to me. I’m used to that. I meant, why did Alexander… go to such lengths to get me? Why Barky? And Star, and Dark Matter, and—you, too. I’m just some Charmander from Kanto who got caught up in something I shouldn’t have. I don’t have anything special that you couldn’t have given to anyone else… Maybe someone more obedient, too.”

“Ahh…” Necrozma nodded. “It must have been eating at you. Yes, I know the answer. It is perhaps more complete than the impulses that drive the other gods and their fragmented memories.”

“What is it?” Owen urged.

“You said it yourself,” Necrozma said. “A mere Charmander and his human partner, working together to get involved in something far larger than them. From what Star had told me, you had taken on the responsibility of rescuing your friends from an evil organization. By chance, she saw you, and decided to help. She had a habit of doing that to many people back then—it’s what had gotten her in trouble in the first place. Kanto, Orre, those aren’t her proper domains. She’s weaker there, and she got caught in the humans’ traps.”

“Then, because I rescued her… I caught her attention? That’s… it?”

“The gods can play favorites, too, Owen. Especially ones as impulsive as Star.”

Well, he couldn’t deny that…

“And the attention of one god begets the attention of another. And another, and another. Exactly that amount, actually! If you count Arceus trying to covet your allegiance, at least.”

Was… was that a joke? Owen couldn’t remember if Necrozma’s humor was this dry.

“Erm. In any case,” he went on, “over time, you also drew my attention. You scaled Destiny Tower and impressed Arceus, who normally only allowed strong hearts, strong bodies, and strong minds to ascend the tower fully. And considering what you had already proven of yourself, Arceus did favor you. He cares deeply for Star, you know… despite everything.”

“That’s a big despite…”

“And in the end, you denied the usual offer to become a Legend. It wasn’t exactly a glamorous role since it was for a temporary world… Only meant to keep things steady until it was time to end it. There wasn’t a very strong need to be stringent about who ascended. But your denial… and just, well, what I’ve seen…”

“I got your attention next, and that’s how I became Wishkeeper.”

“Precisely. And then came finding Dark Matter, which was… unexpected. You had the power of both Shadow and Radiance within you. One of a kind, Owen. But even greater… And this is a curious habit of yours, Owen… You swore loyalty to your human trainer, and nobody else. And when you lost that bond, you swore it to no other.

“You were under nobody’s domain. You were your own. And, Owen, to a god… domain is everything.”


“Domain is everything…” Owen nodded. So in the end, he was someone that had gained several blessings, independently, and then never aligned with any particular god. Then he up and got enhanced with Nevren’s experiments, too, becoming a possible threat to them all… Yeah. That explained it. And Alexander was going to try to force him to align… Just like Mhynt.

Mhynt! He wanted to ask—

But then, Necrozma seemed to dim, and he knew what that meant. But this time—and, finally, without any doubts—Owen felt that he could trust him just a little bit more. And after all that happened, that was a milestone in itself.

“Have to go soon?” Owen asked.

“I’m afraid I do.”

“I’m going to reach out to you again soon, if you can spare the energy. It might be a long one.”

Necrozma hummed, but nodded. “I will try.”

“Thank you.” Owen sighed, standing up. He felt ready. “You said Dark Matter is still alive… that the piece of him that has light is still with the others?”

“I’m certain of it.”

Owen nodded. “I’m… going to try a few things. Not like I have anything better to do right now.”

“Then, good luck,” Necrozma said, grinning. “In fact, I believe I can say the same thing.”

“Then, good luck.”

They shared a smile, and the vision faded.
 

Dragonfree

Moderator
Staff
Location
Iceland
Pronouns
she/her/hers
Partners
  1. butterfree
  2. mightyena
  3. charizard
  4. scyther-mia
  5. vulpix
  6. slugma
Chapter 2

“Hey!” Owen said. “How about this?!” He grabbed something from his bag and threw it at the outlaw. It was another seed—one that, upon hitting him, popped and scattered a strange dust around the Pokémon.
This is relying a bit too hard on the reader knowing Mystery Dungeon items off the top of their head, I feel, without really getting much out of keeping it hidden as far as I can tell. I'm assuming it's a Totter Seed, which Owen can use where he couldn't use a Totter Orb because the Jammer Emblem only jams orbs and not seeds as indicated by the Warp Seed working? I can piece it together, but I had to double-check that Totter Seeds are even a thing that exists, and I don't really think this scene'd be diminished in any way by just telling us it was a Totter Seed instead of being coy about it - it's not a big dramatic moment when we see it take effect or anything!

The force made him roll across the ground like a bag of berries—he couldn’t feel anything on his lower half.
whump 👌

The wing hung there, tense. But then the claws at the end clenched in what may have been a fist. “There’s nothing more that I hate than you Hearts.” He lowered his wing and gave Owen a halfhearted kick, more like a push, that only accomplished a half-rotation of the Charmander’s numb body. “Thanks for the loot.”
Surely that should be "There's nothing I hate more than you Hearts", right? As opposed to the current sentence, which means "There's nothing I hate other than you Hearts"?

Wonder what changed his mind here - he literally just said he was only interested in the items and offered to send him back to the entrance, only to seemingly change his mind when Owen said "Please." (or, potentially, when they were making eye contact before that). I wouldn't be surprised if this was significant.

“Y-yeah! Hearts,” Demitri said. “And we’ve got to be top-tier to get into something like that!”

“You seem new. Worst of the best, I take it?” Aerodactyl asked, smirking.

“Goodra Anam said that a ranked system isn’t good for morale, so we aren’t the worst or the best! We’re just Entry-Level Hearts!”
What precious beans.

All this time that they were talking, Owen saw the outlaw making sly, subtle movements with the bag. “He’s trying something!” He might have disabled his jammer. And that could only mean he would use an Orb next.
Not quite following Owen's reasoning here. All he's actually seeing here is "sly, subtle movements with the bag", right? And the idea that he "might" have disabled his jammer is pure conjecture, right, as indicated by the "might"? But despite that he has (as far as I can tell?) no actual reason to think he has in fact disabled the jammer, Owen's concluding that this "could only mean" he'll use an Orb? It'd make more sense to me if Owen just figured it's possible he could use an Orb.

Weakened and immobile, he shut his eyes tight, waiting for the inevitable impact that would kick him out of the Dungeon. And then, despite expecting nothing of it, he prayed to Arceus that he’d be able to wake up afterward. But it never came. He heard an impact, but he wasn’t the one to receive it. He opened one eye.
I see this is pre-Owen's principled atheism.

Demitri nodded and rummaged for their Badge.
His badge, presumably?

A pit of guilt weighed on Owen’s stomach. “O-oh. They were still out of it? I didn’t—I wasn’t that hard on them, right? I didn’t…?”

“Hey, self-defense,” Gahi said. “Besides, this place is overpopulated with those pests anyway. Isn’t enough food fer ‘em ter all survive.”

“W-wait, how badly were they—”
Oof.

“It—it was a setup! I swear!” Aerodactyl pleaded. He was still smoking from the Solar Beam, and his left eye was purple and shut completely from Demitri’s Dual Chops. “I didn’t mean to steal all those things! I was under Hypnosis! I’m—I’m a sleeper cell, secretly, eh, secretly I go crazy when my master wants me to! And, eh, and my master is right in that building, over there!”
It would be extremely Namo for him to turn out not to be entirely lying.

“Feh, quit yer lying,” Gahi said. “Pay yer dues and don’t do it again.”

The Aerodactyl whimpered and ducked his head down, defeated.
So outlaws who are apprehended just pay a fine and leave...?

“I don’t want to… I don’t want to make anybody feel bad, but there was this really weird, really muscular, really angry-looking Snorlax in the same Dungeon that I found Aerodactyl—um, what’s your name, Aerodactyl?”

“Like I’d tell you,” he hissed.

Owen flinched. “W-well… w-well, I just thought it was strange to see a Snorlax there.”

“Hm, perhaps it was just your imagination. Were you hungry while fighting?”

“Not really. I just finished an apple.”

“Perhaps you were seeing things. Still, I will report it. Do not be worried. Strange Pokémon like those are seen in Dungeons all the time, and it’s nothing to be concerned with—so long as they don’t wander out of those Dungeons.” He mumbled the last part. “Eh—we let our Elite Hearts deal with them. Now then.” He looked at Aerodactyl. “We will be going.”
I initially took the rest of the non-Owen dialogue here to also be Aerodactyl - there's no indication otherwise until "He looked at Aerodactyl".

“Hmm,” Owen watched. “What’s going to happen to him?”
"Owen watched" isn't a speech tag.

“So, he pays back his debts, and gets a job in the process? I wish it was that easy for me,” Owen mumbled. “My dad wants me to be a berry farmer because my sharp senses would let me tell when they’re ripe or not.”
Such use of Perceive

“Yeah! It totally does!” Owen said. “I can’t believe it’s so nice, though! I guess Anam is even better than I thought.”
Anam is totally going to turn out evil, isn't he.

That aside, I'm kind of questioning why Owen's apparently unaware of this and needs it explained to him right now? Surely recruits to the Thousand Hearts would be basically aware of the Hearts' own justice system?

“Yer coming all the way here just fer some random ferals?”

“I didn’t think I’d do that much damage. You said they were pretty beat up, right? And Aerodactyl looked really hurt, too. Just… you know.”
Aww, Owen. Love him.

“I guess y’did beat ‘em up kinda bad,” Gahi said. “Didn’t think they looked that bad when we passed ‘em by the first time. Maybe these’re just the ones that got roughed up the most.”
Alll right, someone else definitely came in after him. (His dad...? Only because he's the only other Fire-type we know about?)

“I guess I just want to be careful. And if I slip up and get carried away… I want to make things right. That’s part of being a Heart, right? No fighting if you don’t need to.”

Gahi said nothing. He opened his mouth, but then closed it, looking to Demitri and Mispy to say something instead.
Feels like Gahi Knows something

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Demitri said, patting Owen on the shoulder. “Dragon fire can do some serious damage, too. If it gets caught on normal brush, it’ll become normal fire just from the heat. Ethereal or not, heat is heat. I guess I don’t have to worry as much since, er, I usually just use brute force…”
This slightly awkward exposition being placed here is making me wonder if maybe it was actually a Dragon-type that caused some of this damage (though that wouldn't explain the actual burns unless you're making a more significant deviation from the game mechanics). (Maybe it was them)

“Yeah,” Owen said. “But, it’s just so cool! The way you guys just beat that Aerodactyl without any trouble!”

“Well, there was a little trouble,” Demitri said.

“Yeah, had ter keep yeh safe,” Gahi said. “But sure. No trouble.”
This is making me think there might have been a reason we didn't see how they beat him, too. :absus: Namoooo everything you write is suspicious

“Meditating?” Owen said. “You guys meditate, too? I do it all the time! It’s really nice to clear your head.”
Wonder if it was Rhys who taught Owen/his dad to meditate (or the other way around?), before Rhys was erased from Owen's memory.

Rhys stared at Owen for a bit longer than anyone in the room thought comfortable. Owen noticed his fur puff out. For a split-second, his paws glowed with a light blue, aura ember.
Huh, so presumably they were enemies? Interesting. (Or Rhys is just worried Owen is there because he's remembered something and needs to be swiftly disposed of and taken back to the Hearts' memory-erasure chambers)

What Owen saw next made him rub his eyes. There was a cloud of some kind—a very fine mist, like a pinkish haze. It didn’t move with any breezes. Oh, no, Owen said. Now I’m starting to see things! Can anybody else—? Owen glanced at the others. Mispy’s leaf was twitching, like she had an itch. Demitri and Gahi were too focused on Rhys’ cooking.

Rhys was moving stiffly. That was odd. He usually moved with a graceful flow. Did he notice? “Rhys?” Owen spoke up. “Are you okay?”
Well, that's ominous.

“Colors? Like pink?” Owen said.

“Pink? No, usually greens and yellows,” Demitri said.
Hmm. That's definitely significant.

“Okay—Rhys. Um, since you’re an Elite, I can trust you with a secret, right?”

“Of where your parents live?” Rhys asked. “Revealing this to me will change nothing.”
That sure is some wording with Exact Words energy. The straightforward interpretation is he just means he already knows, but the fact he's going out of his way to phrase it this way to Owen is giving me pause.

Okay, Owen thought between bites. So, everything today feels weirder than usual. And I’m pretty sure I wasn’t dreaming last night. Did Dad actually explode? Did I get attacked by another of those mutant things? Nngh, or am I just losing it? Nevren’s a Psychic, right? Maybe he can fix my brain.

He then glanced at Rhys’ room. He saw the pink mist again. Oh, Mew in the stars, he thought, taking his final bite. Can’t I have just one normal day?
Pink mist is Star the Mew, isn't it. Calling it. Suspiciously specific phrasing. (The green and yellow... Celebi and Jirachi?)

Also I bet Nevren will fix his brain :absus:

It sounds like Owen genuinely hasn't been experiencing these sorts of déjà vu sensations/half-memories before. Wonder if something was botched about the last memory erasure, one way or another, or if something else triggered it.

Goddamn it Namo I can feel you cackling placing 100000 plot hooks in here. More good Owen whump, Team Alloy are cute, and we get to meet Rhys who's the most immediate mystery and it sounds like we're about to see him talk privately with Owen as well as accompany him to his parents' house, and we already know they know him, so that's definitely something to pull me toward the next chapter.

I am suspicious of every word that you write and am sure I will curse your name.
 
Last edited:

unrepentantAuthor

A cat that writes stories.
Location
UK
Pronouns
they/she
Partners
  1. purrloin-salem
  2. sneasel-dusk
  3. luz-companion
  4. brisa-companion
  5. meowth-laura
  6. delphox-jesse
  7. mewtwo
  8. zeraora
Hi Namo! Glad I got to finish my triple-barrel reviewing of HoC. Mostly reactions, since this is ancient by now.

Chapter 1 – Kilo Village

Charmander are never in the dark, huh? You've mentioned this before, it's a fascinating notion I'd never really considered. Looking forward to it Mattering. Like everything will.

Good casual worldbuilding in this chapter with stuff like the use of species names and the degree of development in this setting.

What if Owen was even lighter?? Can very small pokémon not trigger the passageway?

Already absolutely certain that everything is important and foreshadowy. Owen isn't just nervous and forgetting to leave the waypoint, he's ancient and something's actually wrong. I suspect timeloop shenanigans.

'I'm not a kid', ha. Buddy, I played Blacklight. I know you're like a million years old lmao. He actually seems like a young 16 or something like that, to be honest. Really not that much of an adult at all, maybe a very nervous and childlike older teen.

Alakazam! This is DEFO nevren and he is DEFO sus. I am watching him with intense scrutiny. I am quite certain his gift has some ulterior motive, and judging by a stray comment later about it, I'm probably right.

Slots, huh? Are there always a thousand hearts exactly? Interesting way of doing things.

An eviolite complex, haha. I like that Owen's worried about the consequences on his confidence from relying on an item.

It's the FRIENDS! And he's already friends with them, naturally. Team Alloy make a good impression this early, they're pretty likeable little fuckers. Even if I didn't Know, I'd be quite certain they have similar fucked up manipulation backstories to Owen what with their seeming familiar and all being late evolvers. They obvs haven't evolved bc they're superclones, right? Right?

The deja vu vibes are getting intense really early. So how many times has Owen loaded this save state? :P

Fire trap is interesting. I knew powers were expanded way past vanilla, but I wasn't expecting a guy like Owen as he is to develop a custom delayed move like that. Interesting.

He sure talks to himself a LOT. I think he has protagonist disease. Are you riffing on this trope, using it as an excuse to exposit, or is it actually somehow plot relevant? I'll save you the trouble of answering: Yes.

I like the encounter with this flying ronk bastard. It makes perfect sense that he'd camp a bug-heavy dungeon frequented by low level fires and fliers. Again, I wonder if there are fifty ways this will Matter later.

Chapter 2 – Trouble in the Woods

So, Owen is in the shitter again, huh? You really do love to put him in Situations. Team Alloy's arrival isn't terribly surprising, but the dreadful mugging is so intense that it comes as a great relief and is pretty exciting.

Ha, 'see Rhys again'. The memory bullshit is really kicking in fast. Fascinated to see how you chose to pace this stuff out and just how many reveals there are.

Broken Hearts are a very Anam thing to do I guess. Seems idealistic.

I played Blacklight~ He doesn't want to kill because he already has~ He cares about ferals because he used to be one~

Rhys is a fucking liar and Owen is a threat! He was preparing for combat! Actually everyone is lying all the time aren't they? Intentionally or not, benign or not, trivial or not. Lotta untruths in this fic.

Pink mist? What the fuck is going on. Nothing, apparently! There is no pink mist in Kilo Village.

Incidentally, Team Alloy really don't feel like adults either. They feel like big kids, 16 or thereabouts.

Ohoho. Nevren will not fix your brain and you aren't allowed normal days, my dear Owen.

And there we have it.

Good to make more of a start than just the very start. It's a weird experience reading prose of yours that's the better part of three years old. It's recognisably yours, and it's pretty good narration with your skill in characterisation showing through, but it's definitely less proficient than your most recent Blacklight prose. It'll be interesting to see your growth as I keep on with this.

It's also a wild experience reading this having participated in Blacklight. Tons of dramatic irony I wouldn't otherwise have, ha. Anyway~
 

Chibi Pika

Stay positive
Staff
Location
somewhere in spacetime
Pronouns
they/them
Partners
  1. pikachu-chibi
  2. lugia
  3. palkia
  4. lucario-shiny
  5. incineroar-starr
Plane trips continue to be my Designated Time to Read Hands of Creation. These notes are somewhat scattered since it was just a bunch of disjointed comments left in the notes app, so I'll attempt to work it into something cohesive.

100-101

Fascinating to get that look into how the Zygarde function.

Wild to think that Trina's mutants are mostly the ones attacking people nowadays. It does make sense, given the situation, but man. That's gonna be disheartening, given how well-adjusted they'd been earlier.

Really liked the protrayal of Angelo's sketched moves! Trick Room in particular was neat.

Soooo Spice's weird traits. I've mostly just been shelving them like "uh huh we'll probably get an answer later." Obviously, after SE7, all signs are pointing to her having Void power, but also I feel like that's a bit too easy? Also I feel like someone would have... correctly identified that as the source of her weirdness, if it really was 'just' Void. Since Void weirdness isn't totally unheard of? Hmm.

So Nevren doesn't even know what he's trying to save the world from. Well, I guess that would explain why he refused to just tell anyone, yes. :V Given the look we just got of how vague and murky his recollection process is, I'm gonna guess that he managed to discern that he needed Anam for something, but not sure why. It couldn't be because he was DM's vessel because he was already after Anam before Anam even got the orb (and no one knew DM was in the orb). Potentially because he has Necrozma's power?

Holy shit Aster is a terrifying trauma child. Wow! Weirdly enough, he kind of reminds me of the child from Salvage. Cheerfully and obliviously sociopathic while also terrified of the few people strong enough to hurt him. I think he would adjust considerably better if given some actual positive guidance though.

Really loved the chilling effect of DM just cutting off Latias's pleading with "No." Intimidating as all hell.

102-103

Some real solid fight choreography in the battle against Aster! Particularly liked the way the town setting shaped the tactics they had to use. And of course the first move Owen would mimic is Teleport. Of course. xD Blacklight just proved it is the most useful move ok. And I liked the way they used it to catch Aster off guard!

Eyyy, Demitri-Gahi-Mispy fusion! Really fun to see their behavior. Also, I know that "namo can't keep pronouns straight" is a meme, but the constantly shifting pronouns for Migami was a fun reminder of the multiple personalities at play.

Interesting that DM can't possess Aster. I'm wondering if that's because of Alexander's influence? In general, it's really interesting that this one really evil Hydreigon dude is powerful enough to rival the literal embodiment of negativity in his own domain. How on earth did this happen. Really not a good look DM smh my head. (I'm assuming it's because DM got knocked down quite a few pegs in the mortal world, heh.)

“That hardly feels like me anymore. It’s not, is it?” Oh man, this line from Owen really hit me. I want to say more but I can't because of LC spoilers.

I love how Owen just sighs when Migami attacks him. He's not concerned at all, he's just like "allll right, fine, let's get this out of your system."

104-105

Artificial dungeons! What a cool concept. Pretty hilarious to see things going to hell all around Nevren and he's still just like. "hm yes this isn't quite what I expected." dammit he really is Sebastian isn't he. Pretty wild that all the characters stuck in the Voidlands just look like Void Shadows to anyone getting a look from the outside in. But hey, at least he figured out that Owen and the others are all 'alive' and well in there. I... think this is helpful for them? God dammit Nevren I don't hate you but I don't get you.

Anyway, cool to see them figure out how to use the Z-crystals to more deliberately free titans, after the accident that freed Dialga. And you know I'm here for the arrival of titan Palkia. His cheerful curiosity about being a titan is a delight.

Oh man, the encounter between Aster and Owen was... unsettling. It did feel like Owen was really close to getting through to him too! Gah.

> perfect apple
thanks i hate it

106-108

Always here for more Kanto flashbacks. And hooo boy this one was a doozy. "No, you don’t attack my human! How dare you!" :copyka: I know I already mentioned it, but Owen's evolution was incredibly LC-core and I had the biggest grin once I realized where it was going. While also being aaaaaa because he just wants to save his human. Owen is a good.

And then we cut back to Owen stuck as an apple. This fic, man. xD At least Palkia is having fun.

The scene with Leph and Alexander was interesting, and I remember it pretty clearly because I had a hard time getting a read on Leph's angle at the time. She starts out being really dismissive and insolent towards Alexander, like she really has no reason to fear his anger. Definitely got a strong vibe like she wasn't too impressed with his posturing. But then the moment he flexes his power, it turns out that holy shit, he can actually wipe the floor with her, by all accounts she ought to be terrified of him. And at this point, she is! Very much. So... has he never actually hurt her before? Her behavior at the start of the scene didn't seeeem like an abuse victim putting on a "you don't scare me" front, it genuinely seemed like she didn't think he could do jack to her.

"I could accept the whole Florizard thing, but turning into an apple is where I’m drawing the line." - I'm with Jerry on this one. xD (damn you for making the whole apple thing actually make sense in context)

So we finally get a little bit of level-setting on Necrozma. I imagine we'll be needing to cross the Abyssal Ocean at some point, as it's hard to imagine the Voidlands arc getting too far without someone seeking him out. What with him basically holding the key to plot. At least everyone's slowly putting together how the Legendaries were erased from history. Oh yeah, and the freaking type Orbs are Necrozma power, not Arceus. Well, they obviously have to involve Arceus power in some fashion, since that's where the Hands come from. Did Arceus ever give any Hands to Necrozma? Can't recall if any characters have theorized that, it seems pretty natural to wonder now that the origin story for the Orbs has been shaken up.

“That’s not just some Treecko. She is the one person under Alexander who’s got power over light and dark." - She's got BLACKLIGHT

Gahi being totally unimpressed by the most powerful beings around gives me life. And he proceeds to have an extremely anime fight with Owen's wife. Cool to see the Unown 'prose narration' show up here after seeing it in Blacklight.

I... think Alex is implying that Alexander was his father? Sounds like Amia managed to strip the Void corruption out of him. Presumably it ran in that family just like it ran in Jerry's family centuries later.

109-111

All these freaking metric names back to back youuu

Eyy, more motifs from Blacklight, inspiring hope in the population to give power to Arceus.

Hoo boy, Owen's interrogation was rough. Especially when he had to admit that he might have killed the Rocket again, if given a second chance. I suppose it's heartening to see that therapy is part of the order, given what happened to them. But their old life, their old journey, is essentially over now. It's a pretty heavy blow.

The moment when I pieced together where the Unown's plan was going, I swear to god namoooooooo. I hate it. It makes perfect sense. After all the "haha owen tree" memes, it actually makes perfect sense. There is a perfect logical explanation, reinforced by canon, for every single step in the path to Owen Tree, and I hate it. xD

"Cursed Decree. Nevren wondered how long it would torment him." - Us too, Nevren

Palkia just barging through the portal and cheerfully addressing Nevren while still appearing to be a Void Titan, amazing.

Still have no idea wtf Nate's deal is lmao. Is he even a Pokemon???

Holy shit Tanneth being Emily's imaginary friend sure is a thing. (Sad day to the people who shipped them lol)

Hakk looking after Xypher in the midst of all this craziness is wholesome. I was gonna say it was pretty funny how he was just "lol i guess I work for you now" when Mhynt totem-ified him, but it's obvious he doesn't have too much allegiance to anyone in this whole mess. He just wants to protect bird friend.

heck I'm out of time and I don't really want to rush SE8 because that's THE BIG ONE THE ONE WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR so I think I'll get to that one next week. Along with 112-117 hopefully. Until then~
 
Chapter 127 - Direction

Namohysip

Dragon Enthusiast
Staff
Partners
  1. flygon
  2. charizard
  3. milotic
  4. zoroark-soda
  5. sceptile
  6. marowak
  7. jirachi
Thank you all for the reviews! I'll respond to them in my next post when I have a breath. It has been a very busy week!

Chapter 127 – Direction

It had all happened so quickly. To go from so much activity to none at all was almost enough to put her into a new kind of shock. The numbness of adrenaline was wearing off. The fact that her entire lower half was missing caught up to her. Vision blurry, mind slipping away, she tried to speak and only vomited blood. Breathing wasn’t working at all.

That look Owen had given her. Those eyes, defeated yet determined. Like he was already calculating what to do after the loss. She needed to have faith, for now, that he could carry on alone, somehow. And perhaps he had faith that they would find a way to get him back.

So, she couldn’t die. She couldn’t forget him again. She wouldn’t fall to the Void the same way Amia had. It was unacceptable, inexcusable. Especially to that false god. She had enough troubles from the real ones, usurpers, and now that mockery.

A mockery that nearly killed them all… How were they supposed to stand up to it?

Those fading thoughts buzzed in her mind as her scales lost their shine. She had to focus, single-mindedly, on surviving. She didn’t know when or for what aid or even if there would be any aid, but that was her focus. She’d forgotten who was with her, who could save her, and briefly, she forgot about Owen in favor of her next breath, her next empty thought.

Something blurry waved in front of her. She squinted, focusing her gaze on it. An olive-green arm. Olive green scales. Green scales, yellowish. Claws. Demitri, it was Demitri. She tried to speak his name but nothing came. Then, the arm reached forward and held her cheeks, and he said something comforting, which made her feel even less comfortable. Something bad was about to happen.

Sharp, hot, twisting pain electrified her midsection and her eyes shot wide. She curled and flailed, but then it felt like a hundred arms descended upon her, pressing her into the earth. Then came ten thousand needles against her scales, along her lower body, and a deep, snapping noise as something cracked into place, repairing itself impossibly fast.

She took her first, stinging breath and wailed.

A gruff voice shouted something that felt sarcastic and annoyed, but also relieved. She had a sense of the emotions in his words, but not the words themselves.

Then, the voice spoke again, “Hold still, it’s almost over.”

Jerry, it was Jerry. He was the one who’d saved her from another strike. How strong was he, truly?

She tried to focus on those thoughts instead of the pain, but it was hard. Every movement she made—and something about her body felt the need to move just then—brought about a redoubled, tingling electricity. She convulsed and curled and that only made the pain worse. A side of her head felt hot next, and healing light draped down that same side, restoring her ribbon. It was paler. Discolored. That wasn’t typical of healing. What sort of curse did those blighted attacks have?

“Zena, can you hear me? Can you reply?” Demitri asked.

Zena tried to speak again but all that came were grunts. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, or if she tried, she would only use all the air to scream.

“Slowly, slowly,” Demitri said, and only then did Zena realize how frantic her movements had been.

It was… embarrassing, and she looked away, ashamed. Like she was some primal feral caught in a cage. That brief instant that she’d lost her composure, though, and her vision blurred again. This time it was from tears. No, no, she couldn’t do this in front of everyone. But it hurt, it still hurt, even after the healing. Echoes of the pain were still there; she couldn’t forget it.

Face screwed up, eyes squeezed shut, she wailed again, slamming her tail against a tree. Another electric tingling rattled her whole body and she yelped; several of the team cleared the way.

“Hey, Zena, Zena!” Demitri said, holding her firmly. It wasn’t as strong as Demitri was usually capable of. “It’s alright. It’s alright. You… g-got sliced in half. Just take it easy, don’t… Just breathe, okay?”

She sobbed again, hiding her face behind her ribbons. It all hurt, but it was fading, in the same way a hurricane could fade into a great storm. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been there, recovering, trying to compose herself. Several times it crossed her mind that she was holding them all up. Cursory glances suggested she wasn’t; all of them looked exhausted. Alex was nursing a scarred-looking arm where the head had been reattached, bleeding from its mouth even then. Mispy wobbled occasionally, only present enough to heal people by some muscle memory than a conscious effort. Eon had passed out, unable to retain a form, and had become nothing but a pile of pink slime that Jerry occasionally prodded to make sure he was alive.

The only one who looked anywhere fully present was Jerry, who was standing guard over all of them. There was, occasionally, a Void Shadow in the distance, but Jerry seemed quick to spot them and send a Rock Blast or two as a warning. That was enough for them to scurry away.

Perhaps one or two whole kilos had passed before she felt that speaking wouldn’t be screaming instead. Mispy, perhaps also more present, was sliding toward her. The Meganium was probably the reason she was in one piece again, too. Was she trying to heal her again? Was she still injured? Perhaps she was and she didn’t even know…

But Mispy left a trail of green blood behind her, and there was an awful puddle of it where she’d been slouched.

Zena’s first words finally came. “Heal yourself… I’m in far better shape. Mispy. Please.”

“You’re in pain…”

“Heal… yourself,” Zena asserted, giving no further argument. Mispy, flinchingly, relented and looked over her own wounds, discolored vines growing back, patches of scales marking where the wounds had carved her. A wave of energy pulsed over the Meganium, though she seemed regretful about it. But she was looking better, if only slightly.

Zena checked her body, spotting a discolored ring around her abdomen and puncture wounds where Alexander’s Shadow teeth had dug into her. Those weren’t going to go away, were they? A blemish on her that not even healing got rid of. It hadn’t even been very long; the wound couldn’t have settled. This was a different kind of attack. Had it cut her very aura?

“It still hurts a little,” Zena admitted, wincing when she moved her tail. It all felt like electric shocks.

Mispy gently tapped at her rear and Zena winced again. Mispy nodded. “Nerves react… reactivating,” she stuttered, clearing her throat. “It… will fade.”

“Right. Thank you.” It already was, slightly, but she didn’t want to move. Not her lower half, anyway. “I’m sorry for how I was acting,” Zena said. “I wasn’t myself.”

“You were half of yourself,” Jerry muttered, earning glares from the entire team. He flinched, holding up his wings disarmingly. “Look, I’m just saying, nobody’s gonna blame you. Besides, you—OW!”

He sidestepped from an invisible strike, snarling. Dust shuffling on the ground from some invisible creature suggested Enet had her own way of glaring at Jerry.

Jerry sighed. “Point is, you stood up to Alexander like all of us. And even after you were down, you kept fighting. That’s how I’m gonna remember this.” He rolled his eyes, looking away.

It softened a lot of the glares, and even Zena relented. She was too exhausted to be angry at anyone but Alexander, now.

The whole place smelled like blood and death and she didn’t want to think about what else. It was a miracle that they’d all survived. Then, her eyes trailed to the pile of sludge that had been Dark Matter, sensing a malevolent aura still lingering there. They’d seen it from far away. Dark Matter had pulled Owen toward him, but then he got hit by the javelin of light instead.

They hadn’t expected Mhynt to strike the Tree and steal some of its light, passing it to Alexander. Mhynt had claimed it ruined her stamina. And Alexander could barely hold the holy weapon. Zena wondered why Mhynt had tired so easily; it seemed too suspicious. But now it was quiet. Dark Matter was dead. And they had a whole new foe to worry about, all over again.

They spent even more time recovering. For all that time, there had been no sounds from Null Village. The battle was over. Perhaps, with luck, a rescue party would find them and make the trip home easier. She doubted it, though. The town was in ruins, even if they’d driven off the enemy.

By now, Zena was the only one still in no condition to move. Even Mispy had recovered enough to wander around and get more limber.

Her eyes happened to trail to the sludge that had been Dark Matter’s body.

A single bubble rose thickly from the sludge, and then another. Zena’s breath hitched and she didn’t take her eyes off of it. She had to watch for any signs of…

Another bubble, and now the sludge was moving.

“He’s not dead,” Zena whispered, but couldn’t find the strength in her to conjure an attack just yet. She looked back at the others, but they were all focused on healing, and her voice had been too soft. She tried again, “He’s—”

A claw weakly emerged from the sludge. Orange scales. Slightly darker than she remembered, but unmistakably of the same type.

“Ughh…”

An arm, then a head of a tiny, tiny Charmander. He pulled himself out of the clumps, took barely a step forward, and then collapsed again. His tail had no flame, but Zena couldn’t ignore what she was seeing. Those features, that mark on his back like a faded star, the way his mouth shape was just slightly feral…

“Owen?”

That was her loudest word yet, and all eyes turned to the fallen Charmander. Mispy immediately closed her eyes, looking at his aura. Yes, she could try the same. She focused… But the whole place was filled with a deep, dark fog when she tried to look. She couldn’t tell if it really was Owen.

But Mispy must have seen something else, because she slithered forward and picked the Charmander up, carefully, and set him on her back. One of her vines, wrapped around one of the light crystals, squeezed… But nothing seemed to happen.

“He needs help,” Alex frantically said, almost babbling. “We—how did that happen? Is that Owen? But he was flown away…”

“Let’s go,” Mispy said.

She was already heading back to town.

The team did one final headcount, making sure everyone was in one piece, and any missing pieces were accounted for. Realizing that Zena was still in no condition to move, Demitri helped with carrying her back, gently coiling her body before holding her from below. Several others helped keep Zena steady, carrying her awkwardly back, and Zena insisted that she go on her own.

They didn’t entertain it; she was far too weak to move, even if she wanted to.

Jerry was the most unscathed, evasive about why, saying it wasn’t important. He helped Demitri carry Zena, along with Alex’s assistance. Mispy, Demitri, and Gahi had off-colored scales where their wounds had been healed, and Zena was, obviously, the most exhausted from the ordeal.

Eon was in some kind of shock, occasionally a gibbering mess and Zena was unsure if she wanted to comfort him to leave him be. Even if she wanted to, would it be any help? Now that he was more awake, Eon was stuck in a Charmeleon form long after Owen had left. Gahi was carrying him back.

They did one last headcount… Zena was cognizant enough to assist.

“Hakk and Xypher,” Zena suddenly said, and a wave of realization hit the rest of them. Those two hadn’t been on their team very much at all; their absence hadn’t registered. “Where’d they go?” Zena looked for faces that knew the answer, but they were all wide-eyed and clueless.

Mispy nodded at Gahi, as if giving a silent instruction, and the Flygon flew up high. Mispy checked the ground, eyes closed. As they traveled further from the battle site, the dark fog thinned, too, and Zena had a better time searching around.

Gahi blinked toward them first. “That way.” He pointed just slightly off the path to town.

After their time was wasted just to recover, the walk itself was short. The explosions from the Judgment barrage had subsided. All of the Void Shadows had been slain or driven away. Titans were vanquished, their cores freed. The battle was over on all fronts, at least for Null Village.

Now… came the aftermath.

“No…” Mispy whispered.

When they found Hakk, he was sobbing over a mound of steel feathers, a deflated, long dead body of Xypher beneath him. Whatever words he was saying were strings of incomprehensible sobs and sharp curses, followed by whining that could have fooled Zena into thinking it came from a feral.

It was hard to watch and even harder to speak up. She stood there, frozen, until she realized that everyone else was, too. Even Jerry was glancing away, clenching his teeth. Was he thinking of what to do, what to say? So was she.

“Hakk,” Zena finally said.

No response, but he seemed to know they were there. He spared a glance and quieted down. He kept clutching at Xypher’s feathers, shaking the dead body which, of course, did not reply.

“He’s gone, he’s gone, please, wake up, wake up, don’t… don’t leave, don’t… You can’t, you’re… You can’t afford to die, you were just a Class D, you were just… Where… Where are you now? A-are you… Were you…”

Xypher, or what was left of him, must have reappeared somewhere in the area… as a Void Shadow. If it was fast enough, perhaps he’d even appeared during those final Judgment barrages, fighting on the enemy team. Slain by those tendrils of light, only to come back again somewhere else, over and over.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was right. And this reality… was created by Dark Matter. Perpetuated by Alexander. All of this fighting, this horrid world…

Demitri placed a hand on Hakk’s back. He shrank away, clutching onto Xypher like they were going to take him away. Demitri held strong. Frost appeared on Hakk’s back as he screamed for him to go away, but Demitri shook his head.

“I’m not leaving,” Hakk blubbered. “I’m… I’ll never leave. Th-there’s no point. Xypher… Xypher!” He kept repeating it, on and on. And despite frosting over, Demitri didn’t let go, but he also wasn’t pulling Hakk away. Nobody wanted to interfere. And, somehow, Demitri seemed to know that Hakk wouldn’t have outright struck him down for trying.

Movement caught Zena’s eye again. Charmander was awake and sitting up, looking half-asleep, but paying attention. There wasn’t any light in his eyes and his tail was flickering with a dark ember.

That… wasn’t Owen.

But it was his body? Or…

She quickly glanced at Mispy. Was she already under Dark Matter’s control? No—she was holding a light crystal. She was fine. When Zena looked at the Charmander again, he was staring back at her and she froze. It was surreal. It was Owen’s body, and he looked exactly the same, but his eyes were completely different. The little downturn of his mouth, the lazy gaze and bored head-tilt…

Finally, Hakk was calming down more. Rationality won over. He slowly stepped away from Xypher with some help from Demitri, who had a thin layer of frost over his scales. He was moving slowly.

“He… he’s smiling,” Hakk said. “I don’t… I don’t understand why… Why would he…”

Zena wasn’t sure how Hakk could tell that a bird could smile, but maybe it was something only Hakk knew.

“He saved Owen,” Alex said gently. “That was the last thing he did. He must have… I, I don’t really know. I’m sorry, Hakk. I don’t know what to say…”

Hakk started with a fierce glare at Alex, but then a confused expression flashed in those striking blue eyes. Alex flinched, too, hiding behind Mispy. That meek attitude caught Hakk off guard enough that his ire ebbed.

“Who are you?” Hakk said. “I saw you fighting Alexander…”

“I want nothing to do with him,” the Hydreigon replied immediately, “but… he’s my f-father. I thought he was dead. Preferred that. Even more, now that… this happened.”

The icy Sandslash’s countenance darkened with defeat, like he was searching for someone to be mad at. With Alex being so apologetic, he seemed to have run out of targets. The Charmander was either not recognized, or out of his line of sight behind Mispy’s neck.

Zena was about to raise her concerns, but a sharp look from Charmander gave her pause, and she wasn’t sure why. He brought a claw to his mouth and looked down, eyes closed. Did he just shush her?

“Later,” he mouthed.

Well, why should she? Later. Like he had any authority on the matter. “I—”

“Do you want to bury him?” Demitri offered, and Zena stopped herself.

Charmander rolled his eyes, his dark eyes radiating an ‘I told you so’ attitude.

Perhaps so, just this once.

“Is there someplace we can bring him?” Zena added, prying her eyes away from Owen’s mockery.

“I… I just need time. I need…”

“Time… here?” Demitri offered. “Well, the fighting is over. If you want some of us to stay to keep guard or something, would… would we be able to do that?” Demitri looked desperately at the others.

“…Yeah. Yeah, I’ll stay back,” Gahi said. “I’d be fastest anyway ter, y’know.”

“No,” Jerry said, “I’ll stick around. Look, I’m not gonna explain this, but you saw me back there. I can fight these Void Shadows fine. Check on us if you want, but…” Jerry eyed Charmander, then Hakk. “Figure you don’t want a crowd.”

“Can’t I just be alone?” Hakk asked, though there was little force behind it.

“We’ll tell the guards back in the village what happened,” Jerry said. “They’ll send some folks over to do whatever’s the procedure here. Gahi, why don’t you, I dunno, go ahead and tell ‘em?”

“Eh, sure…” Gahi gave Jerry a suspicious look, but Jerry only seemed annoyed.

Jerry was hiding something, but there was nothing dark about his aura. Zena didn’t know why he was so resistant to Alexander’s power, though.

“Is there anything else?” Demitri asked.

Hakk sniffed, completely deflated as he sat opposite to Xypher. “No,” he said. “Thank you.”

After a long silence, the team finally got their compromise, leaving Jerry behind to return to the village safely. The rest of the trip was uneventful and quiet, and Zena turned her attention to Charmander, whom she was certain was actually the very foe they’d been trying to kill.

But Zena said nothing for now, instead cautiously watching him as they continued through town. She finally—and truly, this time—felt her strength return enough to move on her own. Now she could move closer to Mispy to check for anything odd, but her aura was just fine.

Charmander gave uneasy glances at the Radiant Tree now and then, ignoring any small talk the team tried with him. They didn’t want to press.

It wasn’t until they made it to their apartments that Zena asked them to set Charmander on one of the common room seats. Demitri left for the kitchen to make a meal; Gahi left to check on Trina, catching her up on everything that happened. She seemed a little down; Zena couldn’t blame her. Reduced to a Snivy, no real power at all…

They eventually gathered back together. Demitri prepared a few simple snacks. Charmander hadn’t said a word, so Zena felt it was time to acknowledge it.

“So,” Zena said once everyone else was present, “why exactly are you with us now… Dark Matter?

Mispy kept walking to the pantry for a snack, but Demitri seemed startled.

Alex flinched. “D-Dark Matter? I—but Owen, I thought he’d… somehow done a trick, or…”

“We saw him fly away,” Zena said lowly. “Mispy, why did you…”

“But he has that birthmark; how can it not be Owen?” Alex pressed. “It—it’s really you, isn’t it? Owen? You tricked Alexander somehow, didn’t you?”

Charmander slowly closed his eyes during their talking, and then finally turned his head to Mispy, who was munching on some canned fruits, followed by the can. “You’re the smart one,” he muttered. “Demonstrate.”

Mispy furrowed her brow, looking skeptically at him, but then approached. Her vines writhed, guiding the light crystal she’d been holding—green, like a meadow—to Charmander, who on instinct seemed to inch away from it.

“That isn’t what I meant,” he growled at Mispy.

“Too bad.” She wrapped a vine around his body so he couldn’t escape. Then, she tossed the crystal at Charmander’s cheek. It sizzled. He hissed and flicked it away, where it was caught by another vine.

“Don’t toss that!” Demitri shouted. “He’ll control you!”

Some wanted to go in, but they didn’t know if it was already too late.

“Mispy, get away from him!” Demitri shouted.

“Enough nonsense,” Dark Matter snarled, his voice a harsh squeak in that body. “I’m… exhausted. You’re exhausted. Emotionally, mentally, physically, spiritually. You do not have the fire to strike me and I am the same.”

“Fire to strike, I’ll show you fire—” Gahi growled, marching forward. “Who d’you think y’are?!”

“Dark Matter.”

“Don’t you get smart with—give me one reason I shouldn’t pop yer head!” He reached out and pressed Dark Matter against the cushion of the beanbag seat. He pressed a claw against Dark Matter’s throat to prove a point.

“Do what you want.” Dark Matter stared blankly forward. “I don’t care.”

Gahi didn’t go on, but he was frozen there, like he was weighing his options. “…Mispy, yer crazy. He controllin’—”

Mispy raised a vine, showing the light crystal.

“…Well, okay, maybe not, but—"

Mispy dropped the crystal, still holding onto Dark Matter.

“Mispy!” Demitri shouted, exasperated. “What are you—”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Dark Matter leaned over to Mispy’s side and dug through her bag until he found and pulled out a cloth bigger than he was. Mispy looked offended, tugging it back. Then Dark Matter looked offended, and he glared at Gahi. “I have a headache. Mispy already understands the situation, as you can see. Shut up, and we can talk when I have the energy.”

“Can you even get headaches?” Demitri pressed. Zena wasn’t sure if this was a useful line of questioning, and Mispy, looking impatient, was already looking for a second can of food. Demitri went with her to look for ingredients for a more proper lunch, mumbling something, and Mispy mumbled back, perhaps explaining herself.

“I am the essence of negativity. Of course I can get headaches.” Dark Matter squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his chest. There was a faint, red glow coming from where his heart should have been.

“…Mispy says… she tried tossing her crystal in the air where it’d touch her again later, and Dark Matter never tried to control her then. Maybe he can’t.” Demitri glanced uneasily at Dark Matter. “But… why are we…?”

“Hrrrgh…” Dark Matter covered the sides of his head. “I know where Owen is with complete precision. I’m valuable to you. I’m also powerless. We have a mutual interest in getting him back. Stop asking questions. You annoy me.”

Stunned silence. Alex stumbled over his words before finally muttering, “R-rude…”

Dark Matter winced again, then let out a raspy cough. Clouds of black smoke left his throat, floating in a way that smoke normally didn’t. It seemed to follow some other flow than the wind.

“A-are you okay?” Demitri asked on reflex.

“No, and I never am,” Dark Matter said, “but I will… improve… if you give me time to rest.”

“And we should allow that… why?” Zena kept her voice steady. She still didn’t understand Mispy’s rationale for bringing him here. She may have been smart, but Zena was not sure if she was wise.

“Look at me.” Dark Matter held out his tiny arms. “Mispy can sense the weakness of my aura, and I’m in no position to disguise or suppress it. I can hardly break through the binds of mundane rope.”

“And…” Mispy led on, waiting for Dark Matter to finish.

“And what?”

Mispy waited, staring, and Dark Matter stared back.

He furrowed his scaly brow. “There is nothing more to it. What?”

Mispy pointed a vine at Dark Matter’s chest, prodding it. Once again offended, the Charmander swatted it away. “Congratulations, you can sense my core. Does your aura sense give you anything interesting?”

“Light,” Mispy said, jabbing the vine.

Dark Matter let out a low growl, the flame on his tail darkening further. He searched around for something to hide under, finding nothing, and said, “Owen did that. He… was going to kill me, and couldn’t bear it. But just before he pulled away, his emotions flared. Some of it pierced my core. That part of me is what Alexander left behind. That part is the ‘me’ that you see now.”

“So,” Demitri said, holding up a claw, “you’re… Light-Dark Matter, now?”

“That’s a terrible name and you should feel bad for coming up with it.”

“A-actually,” Demitri quickly said, “speaking of names… A-are you really… Dark Matter? Is that your name?”

“Yes.”

“Who gave it to you? Or did you come up with it on your own?”

“…Anam gave it to me. I had no name before. I refused when Owen asked to give me one.”

“Why?” Demitri asked. “Everyone deserves a name…”

“I just want the pain to stop.”

Gahi grumbled, crossing his arms. “Well, yer fun at parties…”

Something seemed to be on Dark Matter’s mind, and it was strange to see those mannerisms. They reminded Zena of Owen, leaving a sickening feeling in her gut any time she realized it. Before she could muster up the courage to ask, though, he answered for her.

“Anam is to the west, in the back of a cave infested with Void Shadows. I doubt he is dead. When I have the strength… I will guide you to him.”

“Wh—just like that?” Demitri blinked.

“How can we trust you?” Zena asked yet again. “What if it’s a trap?”

“Then don’t trust me,” Dark Matter muttered. “I am only doing what would help get Owen back faster. We both want that, don’t we?”

“If you want to do that, you’ll start by reversing all the trouble you caused.” Zena felt the air dampen with her element, cooling the room. She didn’t quell it. She wanted Dark Matter to know that nobody trusted him.

“Some things cannot be reversed.”

“Then reverse what you can.”

“P-please,” Demitri said gently. “If… if you really want to work with us, that’s how you can prove yourself. Prove yourself by helping us.”

“How?” Mispy murmured to Demitri.

“I—well, I mean…”

Awkward silence fell, and Zena understood the dilemma. They couldn’t kill Dark Matter here, because what would that accomplish? And Owen… had spared Dark Matter. They’d seen it. He must have done so for a reason; he couldn’t be corrupted the same way Dark Matter corrupted others. Why, then?

But that was the sole reason the whole team was no longer killing him right then. His sole lifeline was some vague interpretation of Owen’s actions… Still, Zena knew that was how Owen felt. And while he was taken away, she had to honor that.

“Fine,” Dark Matter finally said.

“What?” Zena repeated.

Dark Matter dragged himself out from his seat and stumbled to the floor, walking with careful, wobbly steps. “I am… requesting free access to this home for… some number of seconds. If I do anything dangerous to you, kill me. Not that I can.”

The team looked at one another suspiciously. “What will you do?” Zena asked.

“Something that looks ominous. But I won’t tell you. Owen says that some measure of trust is involved in teamwork, and it will take far too long for me to explain it all. I’m tired.” As he spoke, wobbled down the hall and toward Zena, Enet, and Owen’s room. He pointed at the door and looked expectantly at Zena.

She, in turn, looked at the others, a glare on her face. Mispy looked like she was weighing her options.

“Anything suspicious, and we’ll… kill you on the spot,” Zena said.

“Your words are empty,” Dark Matter replied as Zena opened the door, “but I will honor them regardless.”

He stepped through the doors and his eyes traced the room. “You.” He pointed at the wall. “Stay there.”

The wall growled. Enet must have slipped in early.

Then, Dark Matter approached the cage, and instantly everyone tensed. That was where Amia was—or, what was left of her.

Zena was about to speak, and then Dark Matter said, “Hush. If I wanted to save Owen, the last thing I’d do is harm his mother.”

“W-w-wait, that’s… A-Amia? What?” Alex gulped. “What… ha-happened to her… I…”

Demitri and Gahi swiftly got under Alex to hold his descending body, the Hydreigon unable to keep up his levitation.

Dark Matter pressed a few buttons like he knew precisely what to do, and the cage opened. Mispy expanded her tendrils near the doorway to prevent Amia from escaping if she tried, but the blob had been completely docile, focused on Dark Matter. No, of course… He was their patron. He innately commanded their obedience.

He reached toward the top of its shapeless body and his hand glowed a dark color. He squeezed and the Void Shadow churned before them, shrinking, slimming, lightening, while Dark Matter’s arm darkened more and more, that color feeding into his shoulders.

Zena watched in awe as, like removing a veil, Dark Matter pulled the dark curtain off of the solidified mass underneath, revealing a dazed-looking Ralts with green hair.

Right, her hair was false before, disguised with Mystic power…

Alex and the others continued to stare. Had that just happened? Zena couldn’t find the words. Alex was babbling something, delirious, but unable to move. And, for fear of accidentally crushing her, Demitri and Mispy weren’t letting him advance.

The dazed Ralts blinked awake, red eyes gazing upon them. “Oh,” she said. “I’m… not sure how I… I’m sorry. Did I wander in here? I feel as though I’ve had a… Oh, dear, I’m sorry. How rude of me.” She gave a gentle curtsey. “It’s… odd. You seem so familiar, yet I can’t even remember your names!” Even as the team stared in a mixture of relief and horror, she giggled into her hand. “You may call me Evelyn. The second, of course. Or… No, that’s strange. That name doesn’t… feel right. How odd!” She laughed a little more, almost a snort. “Oh, dear, I’m rambling! Ah… where am I? Who… are all of you?”

“Amia…” Alex breathed.

She turned her head, reflexively answering to the name. A bit more relief. It was Amia. Then why…

“I don’t have the power to restore everything,” Dark Matter droned, “but I freed the spark. Figure out the rest. But she won’t be the same regardless.”

The Ralts—Evelyn, or Amia—walked toward Alex in a slight trance, raising her hands to him. The great Hydreigon lowered his head to her level, bowing deep, deep to the ground with tears in his dark eyes.

She closed hers and leaned forward, kissing him. Just a little peck. And then, she pulled away, eyes fluttering open. Zena felt like she shouldn’t have seen that, but she was so transfixed that she couldn’t look away. Dark Matter restored Amia. Even if it was a little, he had done it.

“…I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that…”

“Rrgh. I’m going to be sick.” Dark Matter wobbled toward Owen’s side of the room and flopped down onto part of the indent Zena had left behind. “Bed.”

And just like that, he was already out.

<><><>​

It was a miracle that Nate hadn’t killed anyone with his final collapse. Lugia had struck Nate and sent him toppling down, directly over a street and all of its buildings. And just when Nevren had sent Har’s team except for Lygo back, saying that it would be safer at Kilo Village. They could defend against any stray mutants. And then Lugia decided to show up! Lugia! They couldn’t have done anything!

Har had been there when Nate was defeated, recovering from his injuries, too weak to get out of the way in time.

A great dark figure had eclipsed the sky—Nate and his countless eyes.

And then Nate’s very body seemed to rip itself apart, forming holes, tendrils, all kinds of wounds that did not bleed. Its eyes had gone frantic, looking at everything as it fell, and then, when Har had crouched down, helpless…

“Har?”

“Guh—” The Charizard jolted up, rubbing the side of his head. Beside him was Lygo, tilting his head with concern. “You’re bac…”

The Flygon prodded him. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Y-yeah. Just thinking back.”

He was still too weak to do anything. Ani and Ax had left to help with moving debris.

Those strange, wraith-like creatures that Nate was made of were wandering around in small swarms, making little, cute noises as they hauled huge chunks of debris from one part of town to another. It was mesmerizing, watching those tiny things work together to carry something so much larger across the streets…

He still shuddered, though. Only a little while ago, those creatures had nearly fallen onto him and so many others, but Nate had contorted himself so perfectly that only structures had been destroyed… and those under the rubble had been swiftly rescued.

How did Nate know the perfect position for that? Was he some sort of all-seeing god? The way all of those eyes had stared at him from all sides, like a dome, wide and concerned, after the crash would be the stuff of his nightmares for years.

Nate wasn’t a god. He was a demon. A kindhearted, gentle demon the size of a small town… but still a demon.

“Bbbbrr?”

“I’m fine,” Har muttered back. He wasn’t looking, but he could sense that this strange blob was carrying, with uncanny skill, a plate of food. Stir-fry noodles.

Actually, that smelled too good to pass up. With a sigh, he reached out and pulled the plate toward himself. “Thank you.”

“That guy’s a cute one,” Lygo said.

“You’re crazy, you know,” Har said. “But… they’re friendly.”

“Bbb!”

“No, sorry. I didn’t see one around…”

“A Smeargle? Oh, the one with Mew’s Blessing?” Lygo asked.

“Mew’s what?”

“That’s what they call someone who can rapidly channel more than four techniques at once,” Lygo said. “I think there’s a Smeargle with it. I heard it’s hereditary.”

“I don’t think I read about that…” Har frowned, not appreciating this gap in knowledge. Now that gods and demons were wandering the world like it was perfectly normal, his neglect of the subject was coming to haunt him. He wondered if Owen was the same way…

“I saw him head that way,” Lygo said. “It was during the chaos with Lugia, but it looks like she made landfall to the west.”

“We need to get ready to defend if she comes back, though,” Har warned.

“Yes, we will,” Lygo prodded Har’s chest. “You are staying put and recovering.”

Har grumbled.

The blob was already leaving. “Guess he wanted information in exchange for stir-fry,” Har theorized. “Hope he finds that Smeargle.”

Just then, there was a commotion up ahead. Har’s flame grew—it was Nevren. Even with his fatigue, he stepped forward.

But he was already swarmed with so many other Pokémon. Countless questions and concerns—who lived, where was everyone, how did it go? Lygo had been there with Nevren, arriving early to send quick news, but Nevren would have the final report.

Har noticed, morbidly, that Nevren’s team seemed… smaller than before. Not by a lot, but enough that he noticed. The ice Aggron was missing, for one. And…

And…

And Rhys.

And Rhys, right.

He was… He wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t.

But maybe he was in the other place, the spot across the portal. Somewhere there. If they defeated Dark Matter, then Rhys was possibly still alive, like all the others. Like Trina, Team Alloy, even… even Eon.

Har wasn’t sure how to feel about Eon… But Trina. Trina was the top priority, and they’d already gotten reports that she was alive. Hopefully that didn’t change.

“We will have to give full reports later in a closed session,” Nevren said, hands raised to placate the crowd of Pokémon—all sizes and shapes—around him. A few bigger Pokémon, like a nearby Ursaring, tried to grab Nevren for more answers, but a Psychic barrier blocked their grasp.

“I can assure you of one thing: Dark Matter’s army has been defeated, and all other foes have been driven away. Casualties are high but not devastatingly so, on both ends, compared to previous estimates.”

In other words, it was a decimation, but not an obliteration.

“Dungeons are still cursed, the portal is still open, and many of our own are still confirmed trapped in that world. We will now be shifting our focus and all of our efforts into rebuilding and establishing connections between here and there while the storm is calm. We do not know what other forces are in play… but Dark Matter, it seems…” Nevren paused, perhaps to be dramatic, perhaps to find his words, “has been defeated.”

And in the end, that was what they all wanted to hear. Cheers rang out, roars that shook the air. Jovial cries and relief washed over so many faces around him—an overwhelming sense that made Har turn off his Perceive.

All around him, everyone was happy. Lygo smiled encouragingly at Har, patting him on the shoulder. Tired volunteers and Hearts paused what they were doing to breathe and sigh as the news spread. It was a victory. The world had been saved.

All Har could see was Rhys’ desperate look as he fell into the void.

<><><>​

This darkness was uncomfortable. Owen never liked the dark—it was primal, after all, for him to fear it—but sometimes he appreciated giving his eyes a rest. This, though, was a cold, oppressive atmosphere that wanted him to go away. It was also familiar.

He continued forward through his mental travels, not worried about where he would go, and only worried that Alexander would abruptly wake him.

Are you there? Owen called, wondering if he would get a reply. At first, there was, of course, no answer. Dark Matter wasn’t the sort to answer calls like this. Perhaps a more demanding approach would work. I’m not leaving until we have a talk. You’re… still alive, aren’t you? Somewhere? I… I heard you. I heard your voice. You’re still out there… right?

Owen wasn’t sure how long he had wandered, but he wasn’t going to give up. He had nothing better to do, after all.

Dark—

What do you want?

The heaviness in the air doubled and Owen winced, holding his breath. It passed. And when Owen looked up again, he saw a Charmander with dark orange scales.

Flinching, Owen opened his mouth to speak, but Dark Matter preempted him.

“It’s not by choice.” He looked uncomfortable with his own size.

“R-right.”

They stood in silence. Owen had forgotten what he wanted to talk about, but he noticed that everything about Dark Matter, in some of the must subtle ways, seemed different. The way he shifted his weight, the way he glanced away, and most importantly, the way his flame had flecks of golden light amid that darkness… Something was different about Dark Matter, down to the way he carried himself.

He seemed calmer, too. Almost… casual, like speaking to an old friend.

What changed?

“Well?” Dark Matter asked.

Another long beat, and then, “Uh—How are you?”

Dark Matter stared.

“You… got shattered. And Alexander, er…”

“Your friends took me in. I revived your mother. That should keep them from killing me.”

“You—”

“Partially. I only returned the core of her memories; the rest have to come naturally over time. She doesn’t remember you clearly yet, if I had to guess. She won’t be the same, and never will. Do not get your hopes up. It is like growing up again, your past coming to you in a dream.”

He stared directly at Owen just then.

“You can relate to that very strongly, can’t you?”

That one… struck hard. But he was still… Owen. So Amia was still Amia. She might be different, and perhaps as the memories come back, it would be in a new context of her current life, and the ‘old Amia’ would never truly come back… And maybe, with time, it would be like normal again, too.

Pursuing that hope with Dark Matter of all people wouldn’t be productive, though, so he moved on. “And everyone else?”

“Of your friends… they survived,” he replied, “aside from Xypher.”

“Can you—”

“He was killed by Alexander. He is no longer under my domain. I cannot save him.”

“Right…” Owen lowered his head. Hopes dashed before they even had a chance to rise. Dark Matter was a master at that, wasn’t he?

“Is that all?”

“What are you going to do now?” Owen asked.

“Get you away from Alexander, once I find the power. Kill Alexander. Reclaim the Voidlands. Destroy the world, probably. Terminus. And so on.” He waved his hand noncommittally, looking away.

“You don’t sound all that dedicated to world-ending anymore.”

“I’m not, but the rest of me is.” He looked at his hands. “I’m only a fragment of myself… The part you gave light.”

“…Does that make you Light-Da—”

“Stop.”

“Sorry.” Owen awkwardly shuffled his feet, then conjured a boulder to sit on. The rest of an imaginary, thick forest rose up around them, and Dark Matter rolled his eyes and leaned against a tree instead.

“You’re only a fragment?” Owen asked.

“Yes. Alexander has more. And I had left fragments in others, too… as insurance in case I was ever defeated.”

“Great… How many?”

“Myself excluded… four. Alexander obviously has one. Emily almost certainly has another. The other two… I do not know.”

“Kept even that a secret, huh? Can’t even trust yourself with the information.”

“Clearly, it paid off.”

Owen laughed a little, but the true meaning of that phrase dawned on him. “Wait. You would have told me?”

“Don’t press this.” He seemed to growl, a thin trail of black haze leaking from his mouth like blood.

Dark Matter seemed to be hurting, so Owen obliged with a nod. Instead, he said, “I don’t have much energy to continue this, especially as you get further away. And you’re probably the same.”

“Then make your next question count,” Dark Matter grunted.

“…You said that you have light now,” Owen said. “Does that mean… you can feel positive emotions?”

In the imaginary forest, a breeze blew. Owen hadn’t conjured it. Maybe Dark Matter did. Or maybe it was some kind of turbulent manifestation.

“I don’t know,” the dark Charmander finally said. “I don’t know what that feels like. I don’t know if that’s what it is.”

“So, you’re feeling something different.”

“Yes. Sometimes it hurts. But there’s… something else, too.”

He was having trouble articulating it; Owen could tell this much. Maybe he could guide Dark Matter through this as a learning experience… without making him feel patronized.

“What made you feel it?” Owen asked.

“Hrmgh.” He grumbled and looked away. “The bed.”

“The… bed.”

“Apparently it used to be yours. I fell asleep in it from exhaustion. And… there was a feeling about it. Being in that bed. I’m still trying to comprehend it.”

The Charmeleon crossed his legs and leaned forward. “How about you try to describe it?”

“Mmhh… It is the feeling like being near a flame, but it’s of a material. And the flame doesn’t burn you. I think that was the cushioning. I was not as heavy when on it. I no longer felt a desire to move from that place. I believe my body also was curling by some instinct… And that’s all I remember. I must have passed out.”

Owen nodded, eyes closed. “That’s called being cozy.”

“Cozy. That is cozy?” He repeated the word a few times, studiously.

“Did you like it?” Owen asked.

“…I don’t know.”

“Right. You don’t know how to… or what it means to—I know. You said you… no longer felt a desire to move from that place. Another way to phrase it is, you wanted to stay in that place. Right?”

“I suppose that’s similar. What’s your point?”

This was going to be difficult. But Kilo wasn’t made in a day.

…Well, maybe it was.

“No point for now,” Owen said. “Hey, right, I remember now. Later, when I have more time and energy, I’m going to reach out to you again. Okay?”

“I won’t stop you.”

Owen nodded. “Well, if that’s the case, then… I’ll see you around, er… Dark Matter.”

He squinted at that. “What was that pause for?”

“N-nothing.”

He growled.

“Just, well, the name.”

“Anam imposed it on me.”

“Right… Well, I mean… It seems more like a nickname than an actual name, if you ask me.”

“You’re going to force a name upon me next.”

“N-not if you don’t want to!” Owen held his hands up.

“What’s wrong with ‘Dark Matter’?”

“Well, it, er, I mean, it’s… nice, and all, just… a mouthful, a little foreboding, two words…”

He looked genuinely offended.

“I—I’m sorry! Just, if you’re only a fragment or whatever, and maybe you wanted to… turn a new leaf? Differentiate yourself? Or, well, or try something different…”

Dark Matter was rubbing his face in annoyance, now, sighing into his hands.

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Aren’t you just sleeping in bed right now?”

“And this still isn’t worth my time.”

Bitter, Owen thought. “Do you want to keep Dark Matter?”

“Do you have something better?”

“I’m… thinking.” He looked away. “…Dark Matter. If you’re defensive over it, maybe we can keep the basics. Your initials, maybe?”

“D-M? That’s all? No. I won’t be reduced to initials.”

“Hmmh… Names. Eon gave me a name that also meant something. Owen… sort of a play on ‘one’, because I was his first. And I was going to be his number one partner.”

Dark Matter was leaning back and staring at an empty sky, frowning and with dulled eyes.

“It sounds kind of like a word used in an ancient language. Diem.”

“Mmh. I don’t know that language. It must not exist in Kilo. Did ‘Eon’ study it?”

“Yeah. I picked up some of the basics. Something… diem. It means day.”

“A name based on the concept of daytime?” It seemed like Dark Matter was rapidly losing interest. The fact that he had interest at all, though, was revolutionary.

“I don’t remember. It was a phrase based on… opportunity. Taking that opportunity. Kind of like what you can do here.”

“There it is.” Dark Matter sighed. “You want to name me, this fragment of Dark Matter, after a barely-remembered, partial and foreign corruption of daylight’s opportunity. Is that it?”

“I-isn’t that good? And clever?”

Another long sigh escaped him as he brought a hand over one eye. The other one was closed. “It’s better than Light-Dark Matter.” He then glanced Owen’s way. “How is it spelled?”

Owen got up, walked toward him, and sat next to him. He pointed at the grass as trails of fire wrote the name down.

“…That’s not how it’s pronounced. That’s clearly die-m.”

“No, I think in the accent you use, it’s—”

“If you want ‘diem’ you would spell it like this.” He twisted the flames into dark splotches, adding an extra letter. “There. Now it’s clear and unambiguous.”

“…Diyem.” Owen tilted his head, considering it. “You know… Now you made it your own.”

“Don’t try to make this symbolic. You were never good at it.”

“I think,” Owen said, “I’m getting better.” He smiled proudly, head tilted upwards.

“Hmph.” The dark Charmander looked at the word on the ground, reaching toward it. The flames disappeared into his palm. “Maybe you are.”

For a brief moment, as their tenuous connection began to fade, Owen thought he saw Diyem smile.
 
Chapter 128 ~ Honesty

Namohysip

Dragon Enthusiast
Staff
Partners
  1. flygon
  2. charizard
  3. milotic
  4. zoroark-soda
  5. sceptile
  6. marowak
  7. jirachi
Chapter 128 - Honesty

Spice ran through at least four distortions once they’d passed through the entrance to Fae Fae Forest. Leo’s panting was ragged and Angelo had collapsed long ago, only to be carried and hauled forward by Phol. The Incineroar was holding up better than most, though he was still bleeding slightly from the cursed attacks they’d taken.

“Stop,” Spice said in a quick bark.

Leo stumbled and collapsed against a tree, panting even more before going to his knees. He’d nearly bumped into her from behind. “Why’d… you say that? Oogh, the fatigue’s catching up already…”

“Take a rest,” Spice glanced around for supplies, but of course Fae Fae Forest had also become cursed. There would not be any hospitality to be found inside, not easily at least. “I don’t think Lugia can find us for a while if we stay here. Big Pokémon like her… It’ll take a while for her to traverse a Dungeon.”

Phol set Angelo against another pastel-colored tree. The Smeargle’s fur was covered in Phol’s blood, looking completely ragged, but Phol himself was also slumped over.

“Phol, take some of this.” She offered another wax-sugar vial. “Oran potion. It’s really potent… Will probably do wonders for you.”

“Blessed?” Phol asked.

“No. So, it’ll take time. Just try it.”

He nodded, biting into the potion and downing it in one go. The relief was gradual, but his posture eventually straightened. He tentatively flexed his arms; the bleeding had stopped.

Spice leaned against a tree and sank down, relaxing a little. Pastel-rainbow colored tree bark surrounded them, the leaves a solid teal or ocean green. Occasionally, distant giggles—apparently a product of the Dungeon—disrupted the tranquil silence. It was a reprieve after all the running, all that chaos. She still wasn’t tired; not even sleepy as Leo had always worried about. But really, he should stop pressing her on it.

She still ruminated over the mess that she’d caused with him getting touched by that darkness. Of course, it wouldn’t do anything to her, but she should have been more cautious about Leo. He was normal. He was mortal, just an innocent Heart.

Why did he have to be so stubborn, getting involved in her problems like this? She missed when everything was normal and she could live a normal life in a normal family. Sugar was always so kind.

They were fine. Spice knew where they evacuated, and they were fine. The area she’d gone had so little darkness. And Lugia felt far away, too. She couldn’t sense her great, dark aura anymore, either. Perhaps many sections of the Dungeon away, or perhaps still reeling from what had happened.

Tanneth still didn’t emerge from her capsule, but at least she was away from whatever Lugia wanted to do with her. Spice didn’t know what was going on with that not-Vaporeon-maybe-Lugia fragment, but all that mattered was she was safe.

Spice looked at her claws again, trying desperately to will the shadowy colors away from her, but exposure to the crater made hiding it impossible. All the questions kept coming back to her. Maybe being away from town was a blessing in disguise, not that she could ever be blessed. Ever.

A warm hand touched hers and she flinched.

It was Leo, smiling at her. Skies, how long had she been looking so troubled? Could he even tell with her new face? And he looked so tired. He shouldn’t have been expending so much energy on trying to cheer her up. All she had to do was play dumb again. “Hey, don’t go asking me if I’m fine again,” she said once again.

“How are we?” Phol spoke up using his medical tone.

“Surviving,” Leo croaked.

“Dying,” Angelo said offhandedly, and then he retched behind a tree root.

“Trouble,” Brandon called from ahead, having scouted just in case. “Wraiths incoming from… Uh, everywhere.”

Spice cursed and drew two spikes from her bag, twirling them to intimidate. She didn’t know if that would work. Why did she even think they’d have enough time to recover?

The dark, shapeless bodies of the wraiths stood out against the bright colors of the forest, like spilled ink over a watercolor painting. They were hostile. They were always hostile. She had to make a show of it.

“Back off!” Spice commanded. “We’ll just fight you. And I won’t make it painless, either!”

The wraiths had been advancing, but they all stopped when Spice shouted. Which, really, she hadn’t been expecting. At least a little hostility…

But then she realized her appearance and cursed. She should have thrown the spike first.

She made eye contact with one of the wraiths, staring at that faceless body, wondering why it felt like it was staring back at her. Eye contact with no eyes. It was like staring into the Void Basin. Familiar, comforting. Now that she thought about it, when the southern kingdom had never been blessed, the wraiths never bothered her, and she always wandered unharmed into Dungeons. Because that was natural. She always would—but that would be dangerous for Spice. Going into Dungeons was supposed to be dangerous for everyone. But not for her.

No, it was—she was normal. She lived a normal life and just happened to not be bothered by darkness or the wraiths or the madness-inducing Basin or… or any of that. And everyone believed that, so it was true.

Spice was standing there, doing nothing, and the wraiths did the same. Paralyzed with indecision, and every second that ticked by seemed to claw at her psyche. It felt like things were crumbling around her and nobody knew it.

Normal, normal. Right, what was all of this? None of this made any sense! Why were the wraiths not attacking?!

Leo, Angelo, and Phol were all too exhausted to fight effectively. Brandon was putting up a display, but he also seemed tired, and didn’t look willing to send out his spirits against wraiths. Guardian spirits were apparently very vulnerable to corruption against them. So, in the end, it really was just Spice who could do her best against the others…

“They stopped?” Angelo whispered. “Why did they stop? They never stop!”

“Shh,” Spice growled. Strange feelings were welling up inside her and she didn’t know where or why.

If she attacked, they might attack back. She’d get them all killed, even if she survived. She… she couldn’t afford that.

It was time. Maybe she could play it off. She was following an instinct, an intuition. Nothing more. “…Leave us alone. We aren’t worth fighting. And they’re my friends. Understand?” Spice gestured to her team.

Nothing at first, but then the wraiths disbanded after a long, tense, windless silence. They went in the opposite direction. A few remained behind, but they, too, slithered away. Spice took several moments in that quiet to sort through her thoughts, shove most of them away, and tell herself that this was unexpected, lucky, and abnormal, and that none of it made sense.

“S…Spice?” Leo whispered.

“Don’t ask. I won’t have an answer, either.”

She then pointed at one of the wraiths. “You.” Suddenly, it jolted upright, as if standing to attention. “Gather food for us. Get a team to find anything valuable here and bring it here. Understand?”

Yes, ma’am!
And it left.

Ma’am? Spice growled.

“Wh-what did it say?” Angelo asked as they were left alone. “It just… shrieked at us and left! S-Spice…”

She turned around, tracing a claw along her dark chest, around the gemstone in her.

“Spice…” Leo looked at her uneasily. They all did. But Leo’s was the weakest, like he was conflicted. Then, his gaze hardened, and he nodded. “Whatever’s happening…”

“I really don’t know,” Spice said quickly. A hint of desperation broke through her voice, because she didn’t realize until just then that her actions might have cost her a position on the team, not just her façade. Communicating with wraiths, commanding them, and it worked? And she looked just like them. “Please, you have to—”

Leo shook his head. “Spice, I’m worried about you.”

“Leo, I—”

“I trust you, Spice.”

She flinched. Hadn’t been expecting that. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but she couldn’t find the right sentence.

“Think back… Why? Why is this happening? Maybe we can use this.”

“What?”

“You can command wraiths! Think back to why, and… and maybe we can turn this fight around with it! As long as it’s not some… strange weakness or trick of that demon.” Leo’s tone was forced, and he looked at Phol, Brandon, and Angelo next.

“I… don’t know,” Spice replied, a little weaker this time. Because she didn’t know. Spice never knew what any of this was. She was just a normal Salandit who grew up in a normal, southern family with two Salandit sisters. She didn’t remember anything before that. She couldn’t. “It just happened. I was always like this.”

“Spice…” Leo took a step closer. Brandon and Phol stood up, guarded. Angelo was terrified into paralysis.

“Leo, don’t get too close,” Phol murmured, uncertainty in his eyes, too. “Spice… This is a step too far. You commanded those wraiths casually, like you knew it would work.”

“I didn’t know it would work. I was desperate. I would have tried anything, so I tried that. It wasn’t like we were going to fight. So that’s it, okay? I got lucky.”

Nobody believed that. Not even her.

No no no no no.

It was all falling apart.

She should have diverted them. Made a decoy of herself. Said that she lost them in the chaos, and come back to save them later. Anything. Anything else. She wanted to rewind time. Try again. But she couldn’t.

“Wraiths can mimic people,” Phol said to Leo, and suddenly it was like a horrible, grinding, gripping feeling clutched at Spice’s chest. She couldn’t breathe; her eyes were wide. Everything was cold like the deepest depths of the ocean.

“What?” Leo asked.

“In all this commotion, what if a wraith separated Spice from us?” Phol eyed her suspiciously.

Spice said nothing. Her mind raced even faster. If she behaved like a wraith now, she could run, and go around from the back and say she’d gotten lost. That’d be perfect! But her legs didn’t respond. She never had the instinct to flee, always fight, in the face of adversity.

“She’s… a f-fake?” Angelo squeaked. “Wraiths can do that?”

“Powerful ones can,” Phol said. “They can mimic basic personality traits, too. Didn’t think I would ever put that knowledge to use ever since Anam blessed all the Dungeons, but… Well, they aren’t blessed anymore.”

She was still paralyzed. Her eyes darted all around, as if searching for the words. Something deep, deep in her mind was unraveling, like she was feeling something slipping away from her. Without realizing it at first, her arms wrapped around herself.

“C’mon, I kept a good eye on you guys,” Brandon muttered. “Mostly. I mean, sure, I was at the front, but I glanced back and stuff. We would’ve noticed something like that. And we’re too strong to get picked off like that! Especially Spice.”

They stared at her expectantly. Like she had some way to prove it. Her vision was focusing on just their faces and nothing else. The forest was a mesh of twisted, bright colors.

“I’m Spice,” she told them. The Heart who saved people from fires and lit the way forward in the dark. The partner to Leo, Team Alight’s leader. Sister of Sugar, aunt of Saffron. “I’m… I’m Spice. You have to…”

Dark. Cold. She couldn’t focus on anything anymore. All because she commanded those wraiths, when they were desperate, when there was nothing else she could have done. She had to! She had to! She stopped paying attention to them, once again desperately burying thoughts down.

But in the end, she’d taken it all in stride so well. Shrugging everything off, saying it was nothing to worry about; not needing sleep, the black Protect, any single one of those would have made a normal person worry. Perhaps Spice’s mistake was trying to shrug it off.

“Leo,” Phol yelped, “STOP!”

“Oh, enough!” Leo spat, and then Spice felt a warmth around her. His fur. His robe-like fur. His thin frame, his trembling body, but it wasn’t from fear. She would have felt that. No, this was fatigue. “Spice…”

His paws ran down her head, then her back. Without thinking, she leaned into him. He went to his knees and fell; startled, Spice caught him and eased the Delphox the rest of the way down.

“Sorry,” Leo said with a titter. “I’m… so tired. I haven’t run like this in a while. Some Heart I am…”

“L… Leo…”

“Leo, this… this is reckless,” Phol said, but now his words had less fire in them.

“Spice,” Leo said, “do you remember why you came up with our team name? Team Alight?”

“…I thought you came up with that,” Spice murmured, ashamed at how quiet her voice was. She forced the words out with more assertiveness, “You did! You said…” And she lost it again. Her voice hitched. Wincing, she said, “What’s this, some kind of test?”

“I guess it was,” Leo replied. “For them… not for me.”

“What, you gonna tell us your ‘Psychic empathy’ is telling you it’s really her, or something?” Brandon asked, huffing. “That’s cheating, you know.”

“No,” Leo growled. “I was directly behind her the whole time. This isn’t exactly a dark Dungeon.”

“…Oh.” Brandon’s hand clanged when it rubbed the back of his head. “Gods, I’m out of it.”

“Spice,” Leo whispered, “I’ve been thinking for a while about… your condition. Your sleepless nights, but having no fatigue for it. That blessed items simply never worked for you. And all of those other things…”

“Leo, enough. I’m fine. Please… drop it.”

“You didn’t want any of us to find out… did you? That you’re—”

“Please,” Spice begged, “please, don’t.”

She didn’t want to hear it. That would shatter everything. It would ruin that perfect normal life she’d built for herself.

She felt sick. Sicker than she’d felt in so long. Angelo’s terrified expression couldn’t escape her attention, even as she squeezed her eyes shut and focused entirely on the warmth of Leo’s fur. Phol’s skeptical gaze, like he would drive her away the moment she made a sudden move.

Brandon shifted his weight, mumbling something that Spice couldn’t hear to Phol. Phol murmured back, and Brandon said something a little louder. Angelo whimpered at them both.

Finally, “Man, I hate secrets,” Brandon said loudly, hands behind his head. “Alright, Salazzle. How about this? What do we gotta do for the truth? I’ll pay you… two dinners. Most expensive one you can get! Under three thousand Poké.”

Phol narrowed his eyes at Brandon. “Was that a joke?”

Brandon shrugged. “Trying to lighten the mood is all…”

Leo chuckled. “Lighten the mood… I hope that doesn’t offend you, Spice.”

Spice blinked, looking at Leo, who was smiling at her.

And that’s when Spice realized he knew.

He knew.

No. No, he couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have. If he did, he would have killed her.

“Spice… please,” he whispered, holding her hands.

That was why he wanted her to talk about it. Why he’d sent the rest of his team on less dangerous missions, away from the battles. They weren’t as strong anyway. Not like the two of them. Was he waiting for her to admit it? To explain? But… But why?

“How long do you think it will take,” Leo said, “for those wraiths to return?”

“What?”

“They’re gathering for us, right?” Leo asked.

“They… they are.”

Leo waited.

“A-about… about, I don’t know. A kilo or two. It’s not a very big Dungeon…”

“I guess that’ll buy us some time to relax,” Brandon said. “Right?” He glanced at Phol. Or, at this point, stared.

In some ways, Spice respected Phol’s caution. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. She felt so exposed, like fighting an outlaw without her equipment.

“Will you tell me later?” Leo asked. “Privately.”

The tightness was loosening. She could breathe properly again. Her emerald heart flickered with an echo of light. She wrapped her arms tighter around him, pulling him close, and sobbed. But she refused to make any noise out of it, so only Leo would be able to hear. He reciprocated by bringing his arms over her back, resting his muzzle behind her neck.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re a Heart. You’re part of Team Alight. And you’ve saved so many lives. Nothing will take that away.” He leaned close. “You’re Spice. Even if you’re a wraith, you’re Spice.”

So, he really did know.

Gods, she was an idiot to think he was that oblivious.

It all collapsed. Decades of work, gone. Her guard went down. Actual whimpers escaped her that time, a hitched gasp and blubber, an ugly little cry that she prayed everyone would forget.

Brandon elbowed Phol on the side and muttered, “Can a wraith mimic that?”

Phol sighed, relenting. “I suppose not. I’m… sorry, Spice. Whatever this is, just explain yourself, and we can move on. Maybe even use it. I’m… not mad. I’m just confused.” When Brandon gave him an impatient look, the Incineroar added, “But it can wait for now.”

Angelo just seemed confused, but understood enough that he was relaxed.

“Let’s get some rest,” Leo said gently.

She held him for a while longer. Everything felt exposed and open and confusing and inside-out. But there was a lightness to it, too, that was similar to all those times—most of her life, really—when she’d forgotten about it all. When pretending to be normal became… normal.

Yet it all seemed so different as she thought back to all the times Leo had pressed for her to say more when they were alone, nobody else around. She was cursed, but she’d used that to save her team. And she was lucky that they didn’t drive her away right after. Perhaps that was what it meant for Leo to be a Heart.

As she leaned into Leo’s body, she let the tears silently flow. For the first time, she truly felt blessed.

<><><>​

Zena slept with Enet that night, leaving her normal bedding for the lone Charmander. What was once an odd comfort, twisted as it was, had become a surreal and nauseating experience to see someone in Owen’s likeness yet with the countenance of that thing inside those eyes.

At least Enet was warm. And she had to admit, having someone big and warm was a nice comfort. In an odd way, Enet reminded her of Owen in ways she couldn’t describe.

They’d taken shifts keeping an eye on Dark Matter for the rest of the day. Eventually, after being certain that he was truly asleep, they relaxed their guard. Amia—Evelyn, as she confusedly insisted—chatted politely with Alex, having no clear memory of who he was. It was painful to watch, but Zena could relate, and she occasionally visited to give them food or something to drink. While the Ralts knew little about Alex, Zena could tell there were still feelings that Dark Matter’s amnesia had not erased, echoing her love for Alex, keeping her engaged in conversation. It was a small, but powerful, beacon of hope that she could yet be restored.

Marshadow had been found battered from a series of explosions that he hadn’t even been certain the origin of, only that Owen had been extremely fast in creating them. With the fighting over, he’d become docile again, but it would be some time before they could verify with Dark Matter if that was true. That was, if they could trust his word.

The other Legends were nearly comatose and barely responsive. Xerneas, Giratina, and Yveltal had been rescued from their Titanic prisons. Between them, Dialga, and Palkia, it felt like some of the greatest in the pantheon were slowly being rescued. Latias and Dialga worked some healing and time abilities to accelerate their recoveries, but even with their powers combined, it seemed like it would take a while. Getting a smiting Judgement by Arceus was not as gentle as the attacks brought down by the light crystals. Because of that, Giratina was recovering faster than the rest.

Hakk and Jerry finally returned later in the day. According to Hakk, they had made arrangements with the guards for a proper burial later to honor his memory, considering Xypher to be lost to the Voidlands. If his memories could no longer live with Xypher, then they could live with Hakk and those who knew him.

Zena wasn’t sure how to comfort Hakk other than to offer condolences and favors. He accepted none and asked to be left alone, though he did thank her anyway. That would do. She would check on him later, perhaps bring a simple meal.

She really couldn’t imagine the loss he felt. How long had he and Xypher spent together? How much time nursing Xypher’s memories, all for it to…

A cold nose pressed against Zena’s cheek, making her flinch. “H-huh?”

Enet stared at her.

“Oh. Enet. I’m sorry. Am I taking up too much space?”

She stared longer, then crawled over Zena and curled up under her chin. “Sad.”

“Sad?” Only then did Zena realize that she’d been crying. “Oh, I—really, it’s…” Why bother hiding it? She took a shaking breath and lowered her guard. Enet growled comfortingly, embracing her. It really did remind her of Owen. “I’m sorry. It has been a lot lately.” Her ribbons wiped at her face. She winced a little at how one seemed off-color, the one that had been torn away by Alexander’s dark power.

“It’s okay.” Enet nuzzled against her, but then eyed Dark Matter on the other side of the bed. Amia had been moved to the common area where they slept in makeshift beds made from the seats. Alex had been bold enough to ask to share a bed with her, and she had gladly complied.

Enet’s ear twitched and she focused harder on Dark Matter.

“Is something wrong?” Zena asked.

The Zoroark crawled to Dark Matter and Zena, more alert, slithered to follow. “Be careful, now,” she said. “He’s…”

“Crying, too.”

Little tears in the corners of his eyes were unmistakable. But was she supposed to care about that? She did, but it felt… wrong to.

“Excuse me,” Zena said. “Dark Matter?”

“Please… please, leave me be…”

“You’re crying,” Zena said, and then, grudgingly, she added, “Are you hurt?”

“Go away… Please. Let me rest…”

He was curling up more, hiding under a thin sheet that had been given to him at some point during the night. They’d left the door unlocked in case they needed to immediately enter for some trouble. If Zena had to guess, Demitri had come in to offer it.

“Were you unable to sleep?” Zena clarified.

“I slept,” Dark Matter said, and he didn’t elaborate.

Enet tilted her head, ears flicking. Then, she curled around the bed, sniffing at Dark Matter’s head. He curled up again, flashing a glare. Eventually, Enet left him alone, disappearing into the common area.

It was just Zena and Dark Matter. It occurred to her how dangerous this was. If he so wanted, he could silently take advantage of this moment. She locked her eyes on the sleeping, trembling thing under the covers, but he didn’t change his behavior at all. Not even a hint of him rising.

Perhaps a whole kilo had passed in that silence. Zena wondered if she would have to go to work. She wasn’t sure if all of the workforce had… survived. If any of them had. If the building had. The early morning had all been a blur of recovery and they hadn’t even started half of it. Dark Matter had been bedridden all that time.

Dark Matter stirred, sticking his head out from under the covers. His tail flopped out the other end, the black ember burning steadily. The tears were gone, now, and he was back to that blank, perhaps grumpy expression, like a child punished for some trivial misdeed. But it was calmer than she’d ever seen him.

“Did you need extra sleep?” Zena said. “I didn’t know such a thing was possible for… someone of your composition.”

“It isn’t,” Dark Matter grunted. “It’s this… body. This fragment that I am. It’s… twisted by the influence of other essences. Of Owen’s, when he struck me with light.”

“I see.” Zena nodded. “You were in tears. Does that light hurt?”

“Yes.” Dark Matter clenched his fists. “It hurts. It will always hurt. It hurts as we speak.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. What a miserable existence. It was no wonder he—no, no. She couldn’t sympathize with him like that. She’d spent a miserable experience alone and she hadn’t been wishing for the world to end for it.

At least, she thought so. Perhaps at moments of weakness…

“And,” Dark Matter said, “it… was comforting. Being under the covers. Warm. Resting, asleep. Safe.”

“Well… I suppose so,” Zena replied, puzzled. “Sleep refreshes you, if you didn’t know.”

“I do. But you don’t understand.” Dark Matter curled up. “Of course you wouldn’t.”

“Then enlighten—explain to me.”

He grumbled at her. “…Think, Guardian. Warmth, comfort, recovery. The smallest… hint of…”

This cryptic puzzle was tiring, but Dark Matter was actually humoring her with it. The least she owed was to give it a try. All of that seemed like the natural reaction to sleep. What of it?

Natural… reaction.

“You… aren’t supposed to feel those things,” Zena concluded.

He was sitting up, now, that thin veil draped over his shoulders, making him look several decades older. “That was the first time,” he said, “in my entire, long existence, that I… that I felt… that I felt that. Any of that.”

“Oh.”

Silence. They said nothing. And she didn’t know what to say. How old was Dark Matter? How long had that only been a fantasy to him, that the rest of all existence taunted him with?

“Is it because of that light?” Zena asked.

“…It… twisted me inside.” He looked at his knees, now. “My spirit is not meant for light. Any positive emotion, it… it makes that light flare up. It hurt, oh, it hurt, but I… I couldn’t stop. I feared that if I woke up, I would… That feeling would go away forever. I don’t know how long it lasts.”

“But it hurt?” Zena clarified.

“Of course it hurt. Everything hurts.” He waved dismissively. “But beneath that, those… n-new things. I needed… I needed more. I needed more, Guardian.”

Then was that what was needed? Light? But such a minute amount, and with the influence of a mortal body. Dark Matter was given a gift of that smallest hint of it from Owen, at the hefty price of his power and stability. Even now, Zena saw that little wince of pain every time he ran his claws over the warm blankets. Yet Dark Matter still did it, for that tiny iota of comfort beneath the pain.

That wasn’t very fair, now was it?

“Then do you see?” Zena asked, this time with actual gentleness in her tone. “If we can work things out with the gods… We can fix what you’ve done. And we can help you with your… aversion to light. Make things tolerable.”

Dark Matter’s ill-defined shoulders slumped, and Zena had a feeling he’d heard this many times before. Still, this was different. It had to be! “You have proof, don’t you? Isn’t this groundbreaking?”

“Perhaps it is,” Dark Matter said, “but… Mmph. I can’t feel hope for my future.”

Zena sighed.

“No. Do not misunderstand me. I cannot… or… should not. Because… I am still unstable. Too much of this… positivity… and I would be writhing in pain from this seed of light in my core. And this… hope you are talking about… That could be fatal. I cannot feel it. I must… become stronger for that.”

It was so foreign to her. Calculating when to feel hope, when he could afford it? When he had the strength to feel hope? Hope was what gave people strength, and yet Dark Matter needed to build strength to handle it. How backwards… And this was how he lived all the time?

Incomprehensible…

And yet, now she understood why Owen had been so conflicted.

“Tell me why he spared you,” Zena said.

Dark Matter sighed loudly.

“No,” she amended. “…Do not misunderstand me.”

“Don’t think you’re clever,” he muttered.

Zena huffed. “I want to know why. When we find Owen, he will tell me the same anyway, won’t he? Please… Tell me about your history.”

Somewhere outside in the common area, something sizzled loudly. Demitri was cooking something savory and she wanted to investigate, but she felt it would be rude to leave now. She waited for Dark Matter’s response.

“You know him well enough,” Dark Matter said. “He found me by chance while meditating. Traveling the world to learn more about it on Necrozma’s behest. Or maybe it was an inevitability, with how thoroughly he had to travel…”

Zena nodded slowly, and then a floating bowl of food entered their room.

“Enet?” Zena guessed, and then the bowl of food set itself down in front of Dark Matter. The Zoroark appeared as the bowl was set down, a gradient of visibility starting from her arms and ending at the tip of her mane.

“Eat,” she said.

The little Charmander stared at it with a furrowed brow, like he was trying to solve a math problem.

“What is this,” he stated, like it was insulting him, rather than a question.

“Food. Soup.” Enet nodded. “Heart-y.”

“No,” he said, gesturing to the bowl again. “What is this. Why?”

“Enet sensed that you’re tired,” Zena answered, “if I had to guess.”

Hesitantly, he picked up the bowl, but his hands trembled. It wasn’t from some strange panic, but fatigue; Dark Matter’s ember was flickering, and the bowl was quite heavy for someone of his size.

“Ngh—”

It fell out of his hands, the bowl striking the ground, not shattering, but spilling its contents on the floor. Zena acted on reflex, her eyes flashing. The liquid froze in place, strong and thick enough that it also held the chunks of vegetables and meats in place. The spill funneled back into the bowl.

“You really do need energy,” Zena murmured as Dark Matter stared at the bowl, then his trembling hands. Still, Zena couldn’t… find it in her to do what was required next. She couldn’t help him, not after…

Enet reached forward instead, picking up the bowl with one hand. With the other, she took Dark Matter’s and placed it under, supporting the weight.

Zena wasn’t sure why she felt ashamed just then. Gods, this was a mess…

“…Eat up,” Zena finally said. “Gather your strength. You’re going to be guiding us to Anam later?”

Dark Matter seemed to be lost to the soup for a while. Demitri’s cooking must have really improved. When he finished his first heaping gulp, he winced, a dark fog leaking from the corner of his mouth.

“Are you all right?” Zena asked.

“Core acting up,” Dark Matter grunted. The fog slowly dissipated. “…Yes. Later, I’ll find Anam for you… He shouldn’t be far. He is safe.”

At this point she had to say it. Nobody else would, and by now she’d been the one to talk to him the most, short of Owen or Anam. It was odd to think of it that way, but really, had Dark Matter interacted with anyone else for this long before killing them, or… whatever he did?

“This is quite a change of heart from you.”

It only annoyed him. Zena expected as much, but it had to be said. “I’m barely myself,” he muttered back. “This light… changed me. It’s changing how I feel things. These… thoughts. Intrusive. I don’t like them.”

“The bit of Owen,” Zena said. “Is it his spirit?”

“No. But his influence.” He looked at his claws again. “I can’t say the same for the rest of me.”

“The… rest?”

The soup was halfway gone, and he took a break to let it settle. He took slow breaths, and Enet let Dark Matter hold it on his own.

“I am only a fragment of Dark Matter. The part that Owen infected with light. Small enough that it doesn’t shatter me, but large enough to hold myself together independently. A split soul.” He eyed Zena, then Enet. “Well. You may not understand, Zena. But many of your friends will, soon.”

“Split… souls,” Zena echoed. “I don’t understand.”

“A soul can only exist in one reality at a time… The Voidlands are part of Kilo, two sides of the same plane, connected through Dungeons, just as it is connected to Kilo’s own spirit realm. But that does not mean a spirit—the light that a soul manifests—cannot be split apart. While the soul is immaterial, connecting all of one’s self together regardless of distance… the spirit, the part that creates aura when bound to a body, can be divided.

“You’ve already seen examples of this before with that Zygarde of yours. He is always splitting himself off into weaker versions of himself, but all together, he is one of the strongest forces at your disposal. He referred to himself as an Overseer… though that term is probably a self-assigned title for his natural role in the pantheon.”

“Sub-sti-tute,” Enet added.

“Mm. That is a weaker example… but one, too.”

“Three?”

Dark Matter stared, then ignored her. “I am a tiny, weak fragment of my whole self. Alexander took most of me. And the rest… are scattered elsewhere.” He closed his eyes. “I know how many there are… but I do not have their memories. And I am a blight to them, so they will not reply to anything I say, either. But I can sense… how many of me there are. Three… No, four, now, with Alexander. And the fifth one, myself.”

“And you can’t tell us where they are?”

Dark Matter shook his head. “I would if I could. You’ve given me… proof of concept. Something that I’ve never experienced before. I’m convinced. If only it could have been done sooner…”

“I doubt you would have accepted a sampling of light,” Zena remarked.

“I wouldn’t have. Owen would have had to do it by force. Anam would never have. He was too kind. Owen does not hold that same kindness.”

“Owen’s very kind,” Zena defended.

Dark Matter sighed loudly. “You do not want to be as kind as Anam. Had it not been for my guidance or his raw power, he would have been a failure, taken advantage of by the wicked until he was left destitute.” He stared at Zena, unflinching even as she scowled. “All it did was leave his world in ruins and his body left in a cave, surrounded by Void Shadows waiting for his light to fade.”

“All due to your actions,” Zena spat. “You did that. You ruined the world. You betrayed him.”

“All true,” Dark Matter said. “He was a fool to trust me. I told him time and time again that I would go against him the moment I could, and the moment I saw no progress in his vision.”

“And he kept it up for how long?” Zena pressed. “…How long did Anam make Kilo a better place?”

“With my power aiding him,” Dark Matter corrected slowly, “he subjugated local authorities and absorbed their societies into his own. He was able to quite literally waltz into the hearts of neighboring civilizations, destroy their morale, and take their people.”

“Anam isn’t a killer,” Zena said. “He’s… not a conqueror. Or are you saying that he wiped that history, too?”

Dark Matter snorted, and she was positive she’d seen him smile. “With all that happened, I could say it was, and you might believe me. But no.” The smile disappeared. “There are indirect ways to destroy a hierarchy. Undermine leadership by doing everything they could do, better. Conjure miracles like they were mundane tasks and then give it all for free. Ask only for safe passage so that Kilo can seep into the local culture like dye into a flower petal.”

“Is that not… sharing ways of life? Unifying the world? How did the Thousand Hearts’ motto go again…”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, unite the lands from worlds apart. That motto has become redundant for some time, but before, it was a drive to bring everyone in the world together. First with roads and maps, and then the Waypoint system to shrink the world into only a few short walks to any major location. As the world unifies, the individual parts lose their identity. Histories are neglected and forgotten.”

“Just from Anam?” Zena asked. “You make it sound so sinister… but didn’t Anam make the world a better place? He blessed Dungeons, enchanted equipment, all of that technology…”

“Mmph.” Dark Matter sighed. “I only feel the negative aftereffects. Your list of the benefits… I don’t know how much they weigh against the pain of those who felt their homes lose their identities. Their pride squashed. Their kingdoms assimilated. Jerry was once a prince, you know. Heir to the Pyrock Kingdom, now nothing but a village northeast of the Chasm.”

“…And you let him do it,” Zena said. “Why?”

“Anam showed how unification results in less negative feelings overall,” Dark Matter said, shrugging. “It softened my pain. I had more than enough reason to help him, so I followed his command. It wasn’t as if I had a choice otherwise…” He trailed off. “I… trusted him. I do not know… how. Perhaps his light had reached me enough to humor it all. Eventually, I turned my sense of negativity into a way to accelerate Anam’s empire. When you know precisely how to cause civil unrest… with my absolute sense of negativity… collapsing authority is trivial.”

“That’s… awful,” Zena had to admit. “You used your own knowledge of a world’s problems to precisely…”

“Prod at their society’s specific insecurities in a way a politician could only dream of? Yes. His kindness was in response to me telling him exactly what a society lacked. All I did was tell him how to do it, and he was none the wiser on the true effect it had on the ruling party.”

After a long silence, Dark Matter bowed his head. “That is Anam’s secret. It was not his strength, though that was useful. It was not some hidden, savant mind or overwhelming charisma that won over the hearts of the world. It was me, telling Anam precisely what good deeds he can perform to undermine everyone else. So long as Anam himself remained ignorant of this, even the greatest Psychic would see nothing but good intentions. A pure heart.

Demitri was sizzling something in the kitchen. Gahi shouted that breakfast was ready. Someone was approaching from the hall.

“And so, Anam invalidated every single other kingdom and won the hearts of the people. Those who resisted, he had the physical strength to defeat. And none could outsmart me, because I sensed their distaste before they even realized it themselves. Though,” he muttered, “I believe the original spirits—the ones not originally native to Kilo—are… difficult for me to read. Those like Nevren… are not as firmly under my domain. Ngh. Regardless.” Dark Matter glanced to the left to see Enet enter holding two more plates of food. “In the end,” he addressed Zena, “Anam, during the Thousand Hearts’ rise, was invincible. Physically, socially, and politically.”

He took the smaller plate, which had a bowl of some kind of purple rice and unknown meat. Zena took a much larger bowl, but she wasn’t sure if she had the appetite to try any of it.

Enet tilted her head, sitting next to Dark Matter. “Okay?” Enet asked Zena.

“I—I’m fine,” she said. “I just… need to think.”

“Mm.” Dark Matter took a few bites. “Perhaps I could have eased you into it more.”

“I just cannot believe that something like that is true. There must be more to it. I—the rulers, they must have been… corrupt, or…”

“Every single ruler?” Dark Matter. “By some miracle, only Anam was the greatest ruler, and all others were corrupt, power-hungry warmongers? Is that your rationalization?” He shook his head, sighing. “Deny, deny, deny. Mortals do love to rationalize their sins.”

Zena hadn’t even known the world for that long outside of her little cave, but she’d heard so much from Owen about it. This kind of news would be devastating to Demitri and Mispy. She only hoped they didn’t—

“The walls are thin,” Dark Matter said. “Everyone was listening.”

“Oh, so you can read thoughts, too, can you?” Zena growled weakly. She felt sick.

“No. Just a good guess.” Dark Matter glanced down the hall.

More footfalls. Heavier ones this time. And a low, constant noise of something large sliding across the ground—Mispy.

“You’re wrong,” the Meganium said, keeping her voice firm despite her stutter.

“Oh, joy.” Dark Matter sighed, taking another bite. “Go on. Give me your platitudes.”

She opened her mouth again, trying to say something. “You… misled him. He wouldn’t…” Another long pause. Her scaly brows furrowed. Zena had never seen Mispy look so furious; she knew that look. But what did she want to say? With that kind of expression, Zena would have gone off on a tirade at Dark Matter. But for Mispy, the words simply didn’t manifest.

“You think I’m wrong,” Dark Matter said. “I misled him because I did not tell Anam the full situation. So, it’s my fault.”

Mispy snarled, but it wasn’t aimed at him. She nodded, dejected.

“Perhaps you’re right. But that doesn’t change the truth of what happened. Do you really think Anam would have ‘won over’ the corrupt powers that dotted Kilo’s landscape?”

“There’s a better… better…” Mispy stumbled again. Demitri held her shoulder.

“You cannot play nice with tyrants,” Dark Matter spat, “and peace treaties are written in blood. Anam asked me to help him save the world as quickly as possible from the Dungeon threat. I gave him the answer.” He looked away. “To his credit, he talked me down from killing everyone as the initial solution.”

“How is that a solution?” Zena asked.

“He asked to minimize my pain. I get my pain from others. The solution is to get rid of all others.”

Demitri gaped. “That’s not—”

“Yes, yes, I know.” He waved Demitri away. “I heard it all from him many times. The other fragments of me don’t agree, obviously.”

Mispy whispered something to Demitri, and then the Haxorus said, “Then you’re saying that… even though what Anam did was bad, or what you guided him to do was, um, underhanded… he still wasn’t a tyrant? Still made the world safer, better?”

“Even if I wanted to be a cruel leader, Anam certainly would not have allowed it,” Dark Matter stated. “I know my fair share of powerful rulers of old. How power corrupts their decisions. Having Anam as the ultimate world power for so many centuries is nothing short of a miracle.” He leaned back. “I was only stating that the pristine history you believe from Anam is backed by underhanded deceit that any other great power would need. And as with any grand, sweeping change, innocents suffer for it.”

“Was there… a better way?” Enet asked, tilting her head.

“They’re saying no,” Dark Matter grunted.

“Mn.” She prodded him in the shoulder.

“Excuse me,” he growled.

“You.” She poked him again. “Do you think… a better way?”

“You want my opinion.”

Enet gazed at him, eyes wide with curiosity.

The little Charmander seemed unnerved. “…With what I know, perhaps there could have been. But Anam… I suppose Anam did what he could to mitigate it. He is not evil. He can’t be, after what he’d done to guide me.”

Enet tilted her head the other way this time, ears flicking.

“What?”

“You said… you guide Anam.”

“I did.”

“Oh,” Demitri whispered. “You said Anam guided you, too.”

“Well, of course he did. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here now. Wouldn’t have made the world he did.”

“Proud?” Enet asked.

“I—” He flinched, then winced as black smoke leaked from the corners of his mouth. He coughed violently, plumes of the haze pouring onto the ground before dissipating. Everyone backed away, aside from Enet, who went closer to pat his shoulder. “Let’s stop this conversation, please.”

“Oh, a-are you okay?” Demitri fidgeted.

“Go away.” Dark Matter wheezed, the stream of darkness subsiding. His flame was a little smaller, but still larger than when they’d gotten him. “I still need… to rest. Anam will be fine, and you need to help with restoring the town, don’t you? By… later today. Lunch, or dinner, I’ll be ready to go. And I feel someone calling me anyway.”

“Someone—”

“Owen, it’s Owen.” He took a large gulp of his meal. “He said he wanted to sp—”

“You can talk to Owen?” Zena pressed.

“How is he?” Demitri asked just as quickly.

“Oi, what about Owen?!” Gahi teleported into the room.

“Owen?!” Eon called from the common area.

“OUT!”

He sent them all away, though Zena remained in the room so long as she promised to leave him alone. Enet, too, made herself scarce and curled up for some extra time napping.

Zena sighed. “Is he at least… doing well?”

“For now.”

“I see…” She decided not to ask more. She didn’t want to press her luck.

“…Mmh. By the way.” Dark Matter opened one eye, staring at Zena, then empty space where Enet was.

“Yes?”

“You may call me Diyem.”

<><><>​

To the void again. Owen waited patiently, peaceful like before, and took the time to meditate and ease his mind.

Eventually, Necrozma’s glimmer of light appeared. Owen glanced around him and focused, conjuring a small, rocky landscape overlooking a false countryside. Far and away there was an ocean, but perhaps it was just a backdrop.

“Hey,” Owen greeted.

“It’s much easier to contact you now,” Necrozma admitted.

Owen nodded. “I’m heading north, closer to you technically. You haven’t been watching?”

“I conserved my strength for this.”

“Oh, right.” He squinted at Necrozma’s bright body. “Does being that… big take up energy, too?”

“Well, no. This is all mental. Rhys and Elder did it all the time. They had quite a mental connection.”

“I heard about that…” Owen frowned. “How long can you keep this up?”

“At this rate, a while…”

“Good.” If that was the case, he could try something else next. Concentrating, he reached out again, just as he had tried earlier. Are you there?

What, what? grumbled another voice.

Necrozma sensed the presence and tensed, but Owen gave him a firm look. It didn’t change anything, but Necrozma at least did not speak up. After some waiting and more grumbling, a dark flame appeared in the far distance, seemingly darker than the surrounding void that went beyond the hills of the landscape.

Once the dark clouds got closer, it was clearer that he was taking on the form of a Charmander with a glowing, red chest. He stared lazily forward, but then stopped when he saw Necrozma standing there.

He spun on his heel and started walking away.

“Hey, get back here!” Owen shouted.

Diyem growled and turned his head back so one eye could look at Owen. “Give me one reason.”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Owen grumbled, rubbing his arm. “That one still stings a little…”

With a small, angry sigh, Diyem approached again and eyed Necrozma suspiciously, then winced when he got too close. “You can’t turn that off?”

“My… light?”

“Yes.”

“Well, yes, but it’s quite painful.”

Diyem stared.

“Ah… poor taste. Of course. Well.” Necrozma shifted awkwardly. “This is a mindscape. I suppose I could be anything. Give me a moment.”

Both Owen and Diyem winced when Necrozma suddenly brightened, and then the light abruptly disappeared. Where Necrozma once floated now stood a Charmeleon with gold scales and a flame of the same color.

“There. To fit the theme, hm?” He leaned forward and fell, not even properly catching himself. “Ah. I cannot float.”

Diyem, looking offended somehow, focused on his own body until he grew into the same form, though he made sure his scales were darker.

Owen covered his eyes, sighing. “Happy with your new forms?” he said, still refusing to look at his two patrons. Maybe this was where he got it from.

“Well, Owen,” Necrozma said, experimenting to find a good sitting position, “you… called us. Now we’re here. Is this some kind of… mediation?”

“I’m not interested,” Diyem said. “Necrozma intends to kill me.”

“Well,” Necrozma interjected, “actually, I—”

“Don’t care,” Diyem interrupted.

“It’s not mediation,” Owen said, sighing. “I’m not going to try to get you guys to be friends after all this. In fact, the fact that you guys don’t trust each other is why I brought you here together.”

“Oh?” they both said.

There wasn’t really a guarantee that they would agree with this, even one of them. But if he could play to their own distrust…

Well, in a way, was this underhanded?

Did that matter anymore?

Owen pushed the thoughts back. Now or never; there was no way Necrozma would have the energy for another of these in a while, and Diyem, well, he wouldn’t have the patience.

“You both want me to side with you in this whole feud you have, right?”

“Feud,” Necrozma hummed disapprovingly.

“Far from a feud, but I’ll allow it,” Diyem grunted.

“And I take it you both know what I really want above all else, right?” Owen went on. “Diyem, you know about longing and desire.”

“I do.”

“Your memories,” Necrozma raised a hand. “Ahh… I see, I see. Very clever.” He brought a paw to his mouth, chuckling. “You’re forcing us to disclose everything with the other to check us for the truth. There is little, if anything, that we mutually want to hide from you. Is that your thought process?”

Diyem narrowed his eyes at Owen, studying him. A bit of dark haze leaked from the corners of his mouth as he cleared his throat, muttering, “A little impressive.”

“I want you to tell me everything,” Owen finally said. “From start to finish, as far as Quartz and Kilo are concerned. I want to know my past again. And then… I can trust both of you to work with me to take down Alexander.”

“And after?” Diyem said. “I have no intention of trusting Necrozma once Alexander is out of the way.”

“We’ll… handle that later. Right now, I’m focused on him.”

They both considered the proposal, looking at Owen, then studying one another. With all of them taking on the same form, Owen had a good idea what they were thinking and feeling, even in this mindscape.

“I have no objections,” Necrozma said, the first to speak.

“Mrm.” Diyem agreed second.

“And you’ll both trust me with this?” Owen clarified. “My promise is to work with you both, and find a way where we can all get something good out of this. Maybe we can end the fighting. Okay?”

“After what you did,” Diyem said, holding his chest, “I have no choice but to trust you. You wouldn’t… have gone that far to save me if you felt differently.” He grimaced, fist clenched. “I suppose I can see that, now.”

“And you?” Owen asked.

“Well, I thought that was a given,” Necrozma replied calmly. “After all, I had told you in our prior meeting that saving Diyem was just what I had hoped for.”

“Excuse me?” Diyem glared, but the surprise in his voice was palpable.

“That’s what he told me, at least,” Owen said to Diyem. “He never told me to kill you. In fact, he kept showing me memories of when I betrayed him, and my reasons for it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why would I lie when he’s right there?”

“This… is some kind of trick to—”

“Already spared you when I could’ve killed you,” Owen reminded.

“Nghh…”

Owen sighed and crossed his legs. Diyem did the same, bringing the black flame on his tail forward. Necrozma… took some time to attempt the same posture, ultimately falling over. He eventually settled with being prone on the ground, belly-down.

“So,” Owen said, “let’s start when I first woke up.”

Owen could feel it. With Necrozma and Diyem balancing each other out, neither one able to tell a lie and each one keen to speak the truth, Owen was finally going to learn everything. His whole past. Start to present.

Finally.

With a flame aglow, he listened intently as Necrozma started them off, when the world had just been formed.

--

Author's Note: Thanks for reading, everyone! As you can tell, the next chapter is Special Episode 9.As with all Special Episodes, it will be four weeks instead of 2 before this one is published. See you then for Special Episode 9: Wishkeeper.
 

Namohysip

Dragon Enthusiast
Staff
Partners
  1. flygon
  2. charizard
  3. milotic
  4. zoroark-soda
  5. sceptile
  6. marowak
  7. jirachi
Let's actually get to replying to these reviews now.
So outlaws who are apprehended just pay a fine and leave...?

That was unclear on my part. "Dues" can also be, from what Gahi was thinking, time/community service, and so on. Not just a fee. Otherwise I doubt that would do much of anything.

That aside, I'm kind of questioning why Owen's apparently unaware of this and needs it explained to him right now?

Exposition fairy mode! Could have been more graceful about it.

Namoooo everything you write is suspicious
100000 plot hooks
I am suspicious of every word that you write and am sure I will curse your name.

You're welcome. Glad you've been catching onto all those little things early on in the story!

--

Mostly reactions, since this is ancient by now.

As it turns out, I can't easily quote things already within a quote box, but I'll say that of what you said, a lot of it mirrors Free's reactions! And indeed, having gone through Blacklight, a lot of this will feel like a 'second reading' where you see things you normally can't. Lens of Truth activate!
Really liked the protrayal of Angelo's sketched moves! Trick Room in particular was neat.

Angelo is one of my favorites to write in terms of the flavor behind all of his attacks. Being an ink wizard lends to a ton of creative depictions.

So Nevren doesn't even know what he's trying to save the world from. Well, I guess that would explain why he refused to just tell anyone, yes. :V

Some of it is ego, when you think about it. "Hmm yes, I know where I'm going. (I actually don't but won't ever ask for directions.)"

Holy shit Aster is a terrifying trauma child. Wow!

Some aspects of Aster in these chapters were lifted from early Majin Buu, including turning someone into a food item. Won't deny there's some resemblance there.

Really loved the chilling effect of DM just cutting off Latias's pleading with "No." Intimidating as all hell.

He can't feel humor, can he? If you tire him, he'll just tell you to hush as he claims your soul.

Interesting that DM can't possess Aster. I'm wondering if that's because of Alexander's influence?

Yeah, I figured I'd leave that one to implication, but that's more or less how it goes. Aster is already under someone else's dark domain.

“That hardly feels like me anymore. It’s not, is it?” Oh man, this line from Owen really hit me.

That casual realization indeed.

Artificial dungeons! What a cool concept. Pretty hilarious to see things going to hell all around Nevren and he's still just like. "hm yes this isn't quite what I expected." dammit he really is Sebastian isn't he.

"This is fine" says the immortal science man.

I know I already mentioned it, but Owen's evolution was incredibly LC-core and I had the biggest grin once I realized where it was going. While also being aaaaaa because he just wants to save his human. Owen is a good.

I was thinking about this when reading through Firestorm's in particular. I feel like they'd both have a lot to say to each other on a fireproof therapy couch.

She's got BLACKLIGHT

I'm never calling it Blacklight in HoC... but it's Blacklight. Necrozma's light, Mysticism, and other factors -> Radiance. Alexander / Dark Matter's jank -> Shadows. That's also why Emily's attacks are particularly devastating against Mystic Pokemon, such as how Rhys and company reacted to the Shadow Sky.

Hoo boy, Owen's interrogation was rough. Especially when he had to admit that he might have killed the Rocket again, if given a second chance. I suppose it's heartening to see that therapy is part of the order, given what happened to them. But their old life, their old journey, is essentially over now. It's a pretty heavy blow.

It's the end of their story, cut short so suddenly by an organization far larger than them. And they don't have the right protagonist juice that Red does to properly take them down, either.

There is a perfect logical explanation, reinforced by canon, for every single step in the path to Owen Tree, and I hate it. xD

This is my MO, thank you for recognizing and anguishing.

Still have no idea wtf Nate's deal is lmao. Is he even a Pokemon???

Yes and no. More on that in several chapters from now, starting with the usual cryptic hints. Though I will at least remark that, aside from the countless Eyes and such, his basic shape is modeled after Eternatus Hand Mode.

Holy shit Tanneth being Emily's imaginary friend sure is a thing. (Sad day to the people who shipped them lol)

Poor Canis...
 
Special Episode 9 - Wishmaker

Namohysip

Dragon Enthusiast
Staff
Partners
  1. flygon
  2. charizard
  3. milotic
  4. zoroark-soda
  5. sceptile
  6. marowak
  7. jirachi
Special Episode 9 – Wishmaker

“I suppose I should be the one to begin, Owen.”

Okay. Is it because Dark Matter wasn’t around yet?


“I was. But Necrozma probably has a better perspective. During Kilo’s beginning, I was lost and in my own personal torture realm… Irrelevant to this.”

Right…

“Hmm, where to begin… Ah! Owen, what is the first thing you remember of Kilo?”

Waking up next to Tim, who was… Mew. Things were scrambled, like something was wrong, but I didn’t think about it much.

“And then?”

Still a haze…

“We shall begin there.”


<><><>​

Year 0

Owen and Tim flew side by side. Tim seemed playful, spiraling around Owen with great agility, occasionally banking under Owen’s outstretched wings during a glide. Then he dipped down and squinted at the ruins below.

“It’s some kind of explosion that hit this place,” Tim said. “It’s awful!”

“Quartz looks like it was bombarded by something massive,” Owen agreed. “Wait! Up ahead!”

“I see it, too. Those are people!”

“Let’s see if anyone’s hurt.”

It felt familiar. Owen and Tim surveying the land from above, searching for those in trouble…

There was a Salamence and a Dragonite leading the effort. Owen furrowed his brow, thinking hard.

“…Ire!” Owen shouted, diving down until he tackled the unsuspecting Dragonite. At first, he was startled, clawing at Owen, but Owen held strong and growled against his cheek.

Tim went flying after him, shouting to fall back, until Ire pulled away with a happy growl of his own. They stepped away from each other, beaming, and then Owen looked at the alarmed Salamence next to him.

Surrounding them all were several other Pokémon scattered throughout the ruins. Many of them were emerging from rubble or helping others emerge, and several eyes were on them with the sudden reunion.

“Owen,” Salamence said, sighing. Her voice was deep and Owen didn’t recognize it. “What are you doing? You’re late for the recovery!”

“Recovery?” Owen tilted his head. Her accent was hard to understand. It felt like they were speaking totally different languages. Owen must have hit his head pretty hard; the way he himself spoke felt… unfamiliar.

“Who are you, again?” Tim asked, pink tail flicking as he thought. “Sorry, I think we got hit by… a massive wave of forgetfulness, or something.”

“You’re familiar, too,” Salamence said. “Hmm…” She squinted, studying the tiny Mew. “Wait. You were with Owen?”

“Of course!”

“Tim.” She sighed, nodding. “It’s me, Ayame. Do you remember anything?”

“No. But we were in the middle of… something, weren’t we?”

“Yes, we were defending against something. It must have hit. Let’s gather survivors.”

Owen tensed. “Survivors?”

“Well, I say that…” The Salamence turned, looking heavy-footed when she did so, and scanned the environment. “All this rubble, collapsed buildings, completely ruined roads… This is the kind of destruction that you would expect to see many bodies. And yet…”

Urgent shouts rang out, catching their attention. Some rubble was being cleared, and then out came a Lucario, easily pushing the rest of the rubble away. Next to him was a tiny Torkoal curled up in his shell, a little scuffed but otherwise unharmed.

“Just like that,” Ayame said. “Not a single soul left us, I feel. It’s nothing short of miraculous.”

“Miraculous…” Tim looked at his hands. It seemed like he was at the cusp of some realization. And then there was a look of alarm on Tim’s face, and he took a breath, about to say something—and then he stopped. The thought left him, perhaps. Letting out a frustrated grunt, he crossed his arms. “We’re forgetting something important. Gah! I feel crazy!” He raised his tiny, pink arms skyward. “A hint would be nice!”

They all looked skyward, as if expecting to get one.

And then, northeast, a golden light washed out the blues in the sky.

“Attention, all of Quartz,” boomed a voice that, no matter the distance, was equally clear to all.

Cries of shock, fear, and awe all rang out. Ire hid behind Ayame. Owen and Ayame, meanwhile, only turned to face the light, narrowing their pupils against it.

It looked like a tall star with eight sides, golden crystal legs and prismatic eyes. Rather than arms, it had four great wings. Its whole body was taller than any mountain, and when it spoke, its crystal jaw did not move. Without pupils, there was no way to tell what it saw. Perhaps it saw everything.

“A terrible calamity had befallen your world, one so tragic that even the event itself was lost to you. That is the source of all the ruin and rubble. But please, do not fear: you are all alive and well. My name is Necrozma. I shall help you rebuild what was lost, so you may live your lives properly once again.

“This will be my first and last message to you in this way, in an ideal situation. I shall only see you again like this if a time of crisis of the same magnitude threatens to befall us once more. To prevent that from happening once again, I urge you all to work together and pave the future you desire from the ashes of your own history.

“Good luck, and I will do everything in my power to ensure such a calamity will never happen again.”


He bowed. His form, made of seemingly pure light, dissolved, and only then did Owen notice a tall tower in its place. The crowd around them began to move again, murmuring to one another. Tim was about to speak to Owen about it, when—

“And to those who can hear me now…” Tim, Ire, Owen, and Ayame all looked at the tower again. So did that Lucario and Torkoal. Nobody else did. “I have seen into your hearts, and I know of the past you have forgotten. The heroics performed in the time that had been erased. If you desire to rebuild this world with your ideals, come to Destiny Tower.”

To their eyes only, as nobody else noticed, the great spire became brighter.

“I wish to speak with all who can climb its labyrinth.”

<><><>​

Necrozma… who are you?

“What do you mean?”

Arceus was the one who destroyed Quartz. And Star—er, Mew was the one who got into all that trouble. Why is it that, after
that, you’re the one we see? Wouldn’t it be Arceus apologizing for what happened?

“Arceus… is filled with a great pride, Owen.”


“He would never admit to such a mistake.”

I guess so…

“When someone is killed, the natural flow of the spirit is to go on to the next world. It takes a great deal of effort or special privileges to go against that current. Even you, Owen, would struggle to return from the dead without the power of so many gods requiring you alive. The Reincarnation Machine is a bypass that kept you alive… but if you were to die now, you would be nothing more than a spirit tied to an Orb.

“Arceus killed every single person who lived in Quartz Isle at the time of its demise, and then erased from history the event that caused it. All who died there… the effort required to bring them back, to undo that damage rather than make it forgotten, was too great.


“Both for his efforts, and for his pride.”

“Indeed. And Star was… traumatized by the ordeal. A god outside of their domain becomes vulnerable and weak, only a few degrees removed from mortal. And Star flew too close to that mortality when meddling with the world she had created. Humans caught her and tried to use and abuse that divine power. In the end, she died for it, as did all who lived on that island.

“That is where I stepped in.”

You… stepped in?

“There is more to Creation than a single reality, Owen. The world you are from, with Kanto and Orre… I call that a ‘favored’ world. It is a world that the creators pay… more attention to. Where they are likely to dwell within as their false domains for a semblance of mortal living. The risk of harm is less than the joys of living, to Star. That is how she felt… before that fateful day when she was captured, and that risk caught up to her.

“But a ‘favored’ world means there are other worlds that the gods do not watch. These worlds rise and fall without need for their original creators, and follow their own cycle. Perhaps they create gods of their own, in a figurative sense. Rulers and wielders of that domain’s power, masters of its closed rules. Star, Arceus, they are indeed gods of Creation. But I am… an Overseer. A visitor who has… ehm, an extended stay.”

Overseer… wait—
an Overseer? There are more Necrozma out there?!

“Aha, well, yes, I suppose that’s also true. But anyone can be an Overseer. Do you really think I would stay in a single form for eons? …Ah, you look overwhelmed.”


“This is news to me, too. I knew you weren’t native to this world. But you aren’t even native to this realm.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true…”

“You stepped in because a god abused their power?”

“Not necessarily. I only stepped in because I saw a disturbance. I offered… a solution.”

Kilo was your solution?

“Rather than send all the spirits from Quartz on their way, Mew was filled with regret over her actions, and Arceus, too, wished to try again despite their inability to outright reverse it. They could not revive those spirits. But they could reincarnate them in a new world. In nothing, a Creator is at their most powerful. Crafting a new reality to house these spirits was trivial.

“Quartz, the world rather than the island, was born.”

Okay. Okay… Let’s go on. Sorry. Just needed some time.

“Right. Let’s take a break. Then, we can recall a bit ahead, when you were training to climb the tower…”


<><><>​

Year 1

There had been a plaque at the front of Destiny Tower saying that those who ascended the tower required strength of mind, body, spirit. Owen, not quite knowing what it meant to have a strong spirit, and fairly confident that Tim was not of strong mind, felt that ascending the tower as they were wouldn’t be enough, despite Necrozma’s urging.

It was a tower that dwarfed the very skies, its top disappearing through the clouds above.

Rather than scale it and leave everyone else to recover, they vowed to return when their duties were complete.

Tim had tried to call out to Necrozma again, asking if it would be okay to return later, but received no reply. The Mew hoped, ultimately, that it would be okay. Gods worked on longer timeframes, right? A few weeks would be nothing…

One day, Ayame and Ire left for the tower. Tim and Owen caught up to them just at the Tower’s entrance, where the dirt of a forest clearing transitioned into pure marble.

“So soon?” Tim said worriedly. “Just like that, you’re gonna…”

“I’m just going to get it over with,” the Salamence replied with a sigh. “There’s no point in anticipating any of this. I’ll just try it once… Apparently, a few people have already tried scaling it multiple times. All of them failed, waking up at the base of the tower in a flash of light. But one person made it to the top… and didn’t find anything.”

“Oh. Well, then why bother?”

Owen rumbled as he thought about it. What would have caused them to not find anything?

“My theory is, Necrozma hadn’t called them specifically, or you have to get to the top of the tower on your first try. Otherwise, you weren’t meant to complete it.”

“Wait, then wouldn’t that be all the more reason to stay?!”

Ayame shrugged. “Necrozma called me. If I scale this tower and fail, then it wasn’t meant to be. That would be my fate. I want to know what’s waiting at the top already… I’m not feeling patient. Come, Ire. We shall ascend.”

The Dragonite followed her, looking confident. Owen wished he could have felt the same about Tim… but right now, neither of them felt ready to scale it.

They disappeared into the gray spire.

It was the last time Owen had ever seen Salamence Ayame. Ire had appeared later that evening in a flash of light, defeated.

Ayame had never climbed down that tower for weeks. They tended to Ire, who fretted over her disappearance, but they tried to assure him that things were okay. But eventually, after realizing that she indeed wasn’t coming back—or perhaps too much time had passed—it had become a rescue operation. What if, somehow, she had become trapped?

“We’re going to have to cut our training short, Owen,” Tim said, looking determined. “Let’s climb that tower and rescue Ayame.”

That was his decision. Rescuing someone… It was so familiar to Owen. They’d done it a lot in the past, right? It was a fuzzy memory, the old calamity still obscuring it, but he definitely remembered some of that…

“Right,” Owen agreed. “Ire, do you want to come with us?”

“I’ll try…”

Tim still had trouble understanding Ire’s accent. But he got the gist. The Mew floated out of their home—a simple hut made from clay and grass—and stared the tower down. His tail flicked anxiously. “We might fail the first time,” he said, “but we’ll keep trying until we can get her. Whatever reward—forget it. Ayame might need our help, and that’s more important. Right, Owen?”

Owen had some doubts, but Tim’s resolve encouraged him.

They entered the tower… and, instantly, Tim disappeared from view.

<><><>​

We can skip this part.

“Oh? You remember?”

I remember enough. You didn’t make it easy…

“Well, it was meant to test your will.”

I think I took more Rock attacks to the face in that tower than the rest of my life up to that point.

“A
strong test of will…”

When we went to the top, I remember meeting Tim. He made it through, too. And you told us that Shadows were the cause of Quartz’s destruction. I didn’t really understand it at the time. But the truth is, humans were doing something horrible on that island, and they got Star in the process. They tried to use Shadows on her, or something, and Arceus retaliated by destroying the island and everyone on it. Then you stepped in and made Quartz Island the
world, and put us here.

“Correct. I am sorry for not being upfront.”

But what happened after… I’m not going to forget that.


<><><>​

“Well, um… hey! Good work on getting up here and stuff,” Mew said, her voice hiding the most subtle of trembles.

“Yeah, uh…” Tim drifted a little closer, but Mew drifted back when he did. It seemed involuntary, like she hadn’t realized it herself.

Owen then looked at Arceus, and then at the bright dragon between them. It was still hard to look at that one directly. He didn’t fully understand the magnitude of what he was facing just then, but on some innate level he felt a reverence he’d never experienced before. These really were great beings… Things far larger than him on a scale he only saw the very edge of.

Up until then, Owen only really paid attention to the world he could see. After all, what was the point of the rest? He hadn’t even been sure that they truly existed.

And yet… they did.

It dawned on Owen just then who he was truly speaking to.

“Why did you call us here?” Tim asked. “What’s all this for?”

Arceus nodded. “This is… a renewed world,” he explained. “And it is going to be a temporary one, only for a little while. But even a temporary world needs gods to keep it stable.”

“People can’t maintain it on their own?” Owen asked.

“Normally, they can,” the dragon of light said. “Unfortunately, this world was not built to be self-sustaining. It was made after recovering from a great crisis, and only through divine power is it kept together. It needs divine power to sustain as well… and we cannot do it alone for very long. We must delegate our efforts to other, physical gods local to the domain.”

“So, where are they?” Tim asked, tilting his head. “The other physical gods.”

There was a long, long silence. The divine Mew glanced uneasily at Arceus, and then at Necrozma.

“Temporary gods mean temporary lives can fill it,” Arceus said. “The easiest way to make this all work swiftly before the world’s ecosystem falls apart would be… if we did not create them from scratch, but instead built them off of noble souls already present.”

Owen rolled that sentence in his head multiple times. Noble souls? Temporary gods? …Ayame was still missing.

Tim was faster. “Where’s… Ayame?” he asked quietly. “Y-you… what did you do to her?”

“Phrasing it that way is so ominous.” Necrozma tilted his head. “Ayame is just fine. She is in a deep sleep while her spirit acclimates.”

“You can’t be serious!” Tim said, half shouting and half whispering. “You… turned her into—”

“In truth,” Arceus said, “she was a very noble spirit, but one that needs two more to fully form. We are waiting. During your ascent of Destiny Tower, we were able to get a very deep look at your spirits and the experiences that shaped who you are today. What we saw was… promising. Therefore, we are making the same offer to you. Both of you.”

“Both—” Owen flinched. “Me? I’m… just a Charizard.”

“And I’m just—well, I mean, I guess when I’m staring right at another one, it sounds kinda silly…” Tim laughed nervously, glancing at the divine Mew who couldn’t make eye contact with him. She looked guilty.

“The choice was easy for you,” Arceus said, looking to Tim. “You are a Mew now, yes… and we already have a divine Mew. But your drive to help others, that need to assist even the smallest requests… You want to be charitable, and you have given much in order to achieve that. You have great dreams, but also think about the dreams of others.”

He glanced at Owen at that one, and Owen flinched. He had a vague sense of what that meant, but couldn’t fill that foggy part of his memory.

“You…” He addressed Tim first. “A spirit like you, filled with dreams and charity… You will be Jirachi, the Wishmaker.”

“We had two candidates for you, Owen,” Necrozma went on as Tim absorbed that information. “A burning spirit, undaunting. And I’m also sensing a great… inquisitiveness in you, even if the full scope does not register. Not yet. But with time, you will easily understand it. Stubborn and unyielding, yet material and not one to put faith in what you cannot see or prove yourself. A dauntless spirit like you could become Solgaleo, the embodiment of the sun. Or, as one who seeks only evidence, you can become Reshiram, the Dragon of Truth. Though, in truth, that would make you part of a set, and join Ayame as you wait for the final third. Do not worry—it won’t be permanent. Only in emergencies would your full power, as one, be required.”

None of that registered to Owen. And he felt it would be rude to ask again. Instead, he gave an uneasy glance at Tim.

But the Mew had a totally different expression. His eyes were wide and bright and thrilled. Owen couldn’t mirror it, and it was surreal that there was such a disconnect.

“When can I start?!” Tim beamed. “Owen, which one, huh? You should go for Reshiram. Fire and Dragon, right? I remember reading about that. I dunno what a Solgaleo is, though. Is that also a dragon? Owen might be interested in that.”

Owen wasn’t sure, but it seemed like Necrozma had brightened even more.

“As soon as you’re ready,” Arceus said. “Owen? What about you?”

He was just a Charizard. And the idea of becoming something else… Was that the right thing to do?

“Owen?” Arceus asked.

“I’m… not ready.” He shook his head. “But if Tim wants this, I’ll… Can I still be with him?”

“Well, of course.” Arceus nodded. “It may be a bit awkward, as Jirachi is quite small, but the discrepancy between you two already is—"

Owen looked down, and Arceus stopped. “What I mean is,” Owen said, “if… I said no.”

“Oh.”

“No?” Necrozma asked, leaning forward. “We are offering you something undeniably positive. Are you sure?”

“I’m not ready yet. Maybe later, or…”

“It is a lot,” Mew said, having been quiet all this time.

The two larger gods softened at that, their once puzzled gazes transitioning to one of solemn understanding.

“Well, that is fine,” Arceus said. “You completed the trial. You are free to visit without obstruction again in the future. Perhaps, until then…”

“I could grant you a title instead,” Necrozma said, “and a token of my power. A gesture of good faith.”

And to this, Arceus and Mew both looked at Necrozma with a flash of surprise.

“I’m not ready,” Owen said again, shaking his head rapidly. “Can’t I… learn first?”

“Learn.” Necrozma repeated it, and Owen was certain, this time, that he’d brightened more. “Very well, Owen. You may learn.”

<><><>​

I still don’t know what that was all about after all this time, Necrozma.

“It sounds to me like he was impressed that you denied such great power being offered by an even greater authority.”

“Well, to an extent… yes. But personalities like that aren’t unique. I suppose it had been a while since I’d seen one with all the experience that Owen had. As a mortal, at least. I’d seen his past and his desire to help, and I was giving him the power to help more. Timothy’s emphatic acceptance is the norm, for those whose hearts we deem worthy.”

“You were surprised. That’s rare for a god.”

“Perhaps I was also easily impressed. It had been a while since I got to interact with sapient life… It isn’t usually my domain. It was all such a novelty. I’m sure you saw how excited I was in this little toy universe.”

Toy.

“Ah. My apologies. It is still your home.”

…After that meeting, Tim stayed behind. He… You put him in a ball of light, and I couldn’t see in it.

“Ah, I didn’t. Arceus did. Jirachi is under his domain.”

Right. And I stayed, and you left to observe others ascending Destiny Tower. You even offered to let me fight alongside the others who defended the upper floors. I was a little excited, but I think I said no?

“It really was to pass the time, but I sensed you were worried that partaking in anything was some contract into servitude. Really, Owen, I admire your caution, but even back then you were quite overly skeptical.”

Kept me going this long…


“It’s a useful skill.”

“Ah…”

And eventually… Right. Eventually…


<><><>​

They had set up an alcove for Owen in one of the floors just below Destiny Tower’s apex. Secluded from the very, very few who tried to climb it, but still near enough that he heard the occasional traveler.

Time was a strange thing in the Tower. The sun rose and set as it wanted, and Owen oddly never felt the need to sleep unless he wanted to. He occasionally spoke with the spirits of Destiny Tower—apparitions that were apparently dutiful spirits loyal to Arceus, perhaps from another world—and they, too, did not remember how long it had been. That was unnerving.

Eventually, he’d had enough. He ascended the final few floors again, nodding at familiar faces that he knew at these top echelons of divine defense.

He had to ask about Tim, of course. But he also needed to ask about why everything felt so strange lately.

“Necrozma?” Owen called. “Uh… Our Light… or whatever?” He winced. “Er, forget I said that last part…”

His wings bumped into the wall on either side, which was new. Did the hall get smaller since he’d last visited?

“Hello, Owen.”

Preemptively, Owen squinted, but noticed that Necrozma’s brightness was more tolerable than usual.

“You must have sensed that your friend is ready.”

“What?”

Necrozma gestured behind him, where a light was starting to fade. Within that light were little runes that encircled a sphere; they looked a lot like letters, the way they drifted around.

“You’ve grown,” Necrozma said with an amused uptick in his voice.

“S-so it’s not just in my head! What’s going on?”

“It’s only slight… but I think you’re picking up some of the power of Destiny Tower. I’ve found that aspects of divine strength can sometimes make Pokémon… larger. You look like you picked up some of my light.”

Owen seemed apprehensive.

“Don’t worry. This doesn’t mean anything in terms of allegiances.” He held up his wings placatingly. “Consider it a gift.”

“Right. Sorry, I don’t mean to disrespect you. I’m just not ready for the responsibility, that’s all. Not…”

Necrozma nodded, but then gestured to the shell. “Would you like to see your friend, now?”

The shell suddenly cracked and Owen held his breath. Tim. That was Tim. Would he remember? Would he be a totally different person? He still had no idea what happened to Ayame, and Ire was a nervous wreck over it, too. He’d climbed the tower a second time and made it to the top, but as it was his second time, he did not qualify for ascent, and received no such blessings. Now that Owen thought about it, Ire wasn’t getting any bigger, like Owen was.

“Don’t be so nervous,” Necrozma said. “It’s like I said. He will be just as you remember. Well, not physically, of course, but—”

There was an ethereal snap! like a metal rope whipping the air. The light shattered and evaporated, revealing an even smaller figure. The light spilled off of the new figure like water over wax. A three-sided star for a head and a tiny body… Jirachi.

He still didn’t take his breath. Necrozma seemed to be suppressing a light chuckle.

Jirachi floated upside-down, and then blinked awake. “Hm?” He flipped right side-up. “…Oh, come on!”

They locked eyes and Jirachi growled at him. “What’s the big idea?! I’m even smaller?!”

“Tim?” Owen asked, reaching forward. He looked totally different. Not even his voice was the same. It felt more distant, the faintest echo in every syllable.

“Actually, you’re about the same size, Jirachi,” Necrozma said. “It is Owen who has grown since you fell asleep.”

“But Owen was already fully grown! How long was I out?”

“Wait, wait.” Owen held up his hands. “So, you remember me?”

“Of course I do!” Jirachi grinned. “You remember me, right?”

Necrozma nodded. “Are you satisfied now, Owen? I’m sorry if I laughed at your distress.”

“I think so… Sorry. Just, someone totally changing species like this—I don’t know how to react to it. You feel normal, Tim?”

Jirachi looked at Owen with an empty smile at first, like he was furrowing a brow that he didn’t have. “Tim… Tim…”

“Ah, of course,” Necrozma interjected. “A small side effect, but no greater. As part of the ascent, their mortal name will be… unfamiliar. But I assure you, that—and a few new instincts pertaining to their new body—is all that has changed.”

Owen tried to tell himself that it was okay.

“Oh, wow. That’s spooky,” Jirachi said. “I used to be called Tim? I think I remember you calling me by a name tons of times before, Owen. Just blanked out! Is it alright if I go by Jirachi for now?”

“I guess so…” Owen felt numb about it. Maybe it didn’t sink in yet.

“Anyway, c’mon!” Jirachi floated up to Owen’s face and waved. “I know where I need to go! It’s a cave nearby. Let’s set up a base already!”

“B-but what about Ayame?”

“Who?”

“Kyurem,” Necrozma said.

“Oh! Right! She’s gonna take longer. It’ll be alright. We can tell Ire.”

“And it’s really you, right?” Owen asked.

“Yes, Owen.” Jirachi sighed. “Just because I have a different name and body doesn’t mean I’m not the same Jirachi—uh, Tim—you knew from before. I remember all the rescues we’d gone on together, how we saved Mew, the dark power that Arceus had to stop, and so on. It’s fine!”

Owen’s flame was dim and his head was low, but he nodded.

“You’ll get used to it,” Jirachi assured, but even he looked conflicted. He hummed, as if thinking of a solution. “Umm… I know. How about we go and… fish around for some math homework to do, huh? You were always better than me at it.”

It was a strange request and Owen still laughed at it. “Sure.” Such a dumb little thing and his chest felt lighter. He could finally breathe.

<><><>​

Why did you take away his name?

“Sealed, not taken away. There is little we can take away. It’s a symbolic gesture… to put your divine duties above your mortal ones. You are, after all, vessels for a purpose of keeping the world safe.”

What about Emily?

“She… is a special case. She abandoned her divine duty and took the side of Dark Matter—but we will get to that later. But in that process, she regained her name.

“Moving on, Owen… After you settled with Jirachi in Star Cave. Jirachi’s duties were to grant the wishes of mortals who truly needed help, in miscellaneous ways that the higher pantheon could not. It was precisely the sort of duty that you performed in the past. You did not enact policies or grand, sweeping changes, and instead were the people on the ground who helped those in immediate need. The duty fit. And so, despite your original apprehensions… you were quite happy. Do you remember?”

I do. It was actually a good life. I never became part of the pantheon in the same way that Tim did. I guess I was more of a noble follower, or something?

“That’s a way to put it. And for a while, you trained near Destiny Tower… and also saw many prospective ascendants. Among them, as you recall…”


<><><>​

Year 10

It was another day just in front of Destiny Tower—not too far from Star Cave, where Jirachi had set up “a base” to dwell. It was a good place to hang around and train without being bothered by those who wanted to see the Wishmaker. It was a good thing Tim had a habit of sleeping and being impossible to disturb, since that was when he could take his breaks.

Owen breathed a bright, golden fire over a rock, melting it into a fine molten pile. He then reached toward the pile and shaped it like clay, squeezing here and pressing there. The stone itself glowed a bright orange, but there was also an outer gold glow accompanying it that kept the heat for longer. This was part of endurance training, but it was also something to keep his mind occupied. Simple crafts, shaping the stone into something before it cooled.

He wasn’t any good at it, though. Everything was misshapen or lumpy. It wasn’t something made for fine craft.

“A Charizard making sculptures out of magma?”

At the forest edge, a Trapinch waddled toward him. Owen always felt nervous about such small creatures approaching him. One wrong step and he’d squish him like a grape. An orange, crunchy grape. Peanut.

“Hello?” Trapinch called.

“Oh, sorry. You’re…?”

“Trapinch Gahi! I’m gonna climb Destiny Tower.”

“…On a dare?”

“No!” Gahi snapped his jaws disapprovingly, then jerked his massive head behind him. There, an Axew and Bayleef were catching up. “But we’re gonna totally climb it.”

“Sorry, but kids aren’t really what we’re looking for,” Owen said.

“Okay, I’m not a kid! We just didn’t really get into the whole training thing, and we’re kinda on the slow-to-evolve side! Except Mispy. She’s fine.”

That must have been the Bayleef. Still, not even at their full forms…

“You need to train first,” Owen said routinely. “You can only truly ascend if you climb Destiny Tower on your first try. It’s a test of your strength. Physically, mentally, and spiritually. Only those worthy will be able to make it to the top. Even if you’re spiritually and mentally strong… physically, you aren’t ready.”

“But you are, right?” Gahi asked.

“I was.”

“And you ascended into a Legendarily Fat Charizard?”

“I—” Owen kept his cool, but that one stung. “That’s just how Charizard are. It’s not fat. I’m fit. Actually, I’m thinner than average.”

“Yeah, but…” Gahi gestured behind Owen. There were deep footprints in the dirt.

Owen grumbled. “It just comes with the size. I ascended in a different way than usual. I didn’t want to become a Legend, but Necrozma took me in as a student anyway.”

“So, if we beat you, we’ll be able to ascend?”

Gods, this one was thick. “You’d… have a slightly better chance.”

“Alright, alright.” Gahi nodded, his beady eyes looking contemplative. Of what, Owen wasn’t sure, but that empty head probably had something knocking around.

“You should probably fully evolve first,” Owen said before the peanut got the wrong idea.

“Fine! You’re on.”

“Um, Gahi? I-is that Charizard safe? He won’t eat us, will he?” Axew called. Bayleef sighed, shaking her head.

“Eat? What do I look like, some pure battleheart?” Owen snorted a plume of smoke.

“Well, you kinda look like it…”

“I’m a first-generation battleheart. I don’t know my parents, but they were battlehearts the same way. I’m not like that, though. Obviously. Because I can talk.”

“You have the accent, though.” Gahi nodded. “It’s kinda funny.”

“I’ll show you a funny accent,” Owen muttered.

“What was that?” Gahi asked.

“Nothing.” Owen dismissed him with a wave. “Come back when you’re stronger.”

“How about we train with you?”

Owen blinked. “What?”

“Is that against the rules?” Axew asked.

“No, I guess it isn’t. But my training regimen is very strict, you know.” Though he wondered if the meditation would be the hardest part for the jittery Trapinch.

“We can handle it.” Gahi tilted his head up with pride. “Just you watch!”

<><><>​

Owen tossed a bag that contained his leftovers from lunchtime to the corner of the room, as he usually did, and flopped into a bed of Rawst leaves.

“Owen?” Jirachi called.

“Muuh,” Owen called back.

“Hey! You look cheerful.” He floated inside, a dim, silver glow suggesting he’d just finished granting a wish.

“Just a long day,” he said. “I think I got roped into training three kids who wanted to climb Destiny Tower, or something.”

“Three kids, huh…” Jirachi tilted his head. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Well… I have a job to guard Destiny Tower, right?”

“Well, watch. You don’t really prevent people from going in. And it’s not like it can be destroyed… You’re just there for training and being able to talk to Necrozma, Arceus, and Mew easier.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Owen rolled onto his back.

“…Is that getting boring?”

“A little.” He hummed. “I miss rescuing people. I kinda wish I could do that sometimes.” He furrowed his brow, not looking at Jirachi, but he somehow felt the little sprite’s smirk. “No, not literally a wish.”

“Not allowed to grant our own wishes anyway,” Jirachi reminded. “Y’know, maybe you should go on missions with them. It could be fun!”

“But what about my training?”

“Train with them?” Jirachi hummed again. “You know, the others were never really sure what to do about… where you’re going and stuff. Necrozma kinda left you to figure that out. I know you like being given orders and tasks, but… why not branch out and figure things out for yourself? Make your own decisions! You aren’t under any duties!”

Jirachi’s eyes were glowing with enthusiasm. Owen had to admit, seeing Jirachi like that was nostalgic. It reminded him of when he was a Mew.

“You’ll be fine without me?” he asked.

“I think I will. My duties don’t normally need an assistant, after all!”

“I guess not.” Owen sat up, rubbing his head.

Jirachi floated to the tossed lunch bag and floated into another room in the cave that seemed to have spring water from the rocky walls with the pull of a lever.

“Say, what wish did you grant, anyway?” Owen scratched his cheek, suppressing a yawn.

“Oh, it was a petty wish, but one with low impact. I didn’t sense any malice from them. They wished for a new recruit to complete their team.”

Owen stopped scratching. Did he want to ask? Yes, he had to ask. “What were they?”

“Uhhh… a Trapinch, Axew, and Bayleef.”

“Huh.” Owen glanced at his supply bag. He conjured a small gust of wind, grabbing the misshapen, handcrafted badge they’d given him. “How about that.”

<><><>​

“So, it was a wish?” Owen pressed, arms crossed. “That’s what led you guys to me?”

Like before, he was at his post in front of Destiny Tower, where he’d told them to meet. The sky was a brilliant, pale blue from late morning, without a single cloud in the sky.

“A w-wish? What are you talking about?” Axew asked, immediately nervous. “W-we totally didn’t make a wish that’d mind-control someone into joining our team!”

Bayleef balled up a vine and gently knocked the top of Axew’s head.

“That isn’t how wishes work,” Owen said. “Wishes are only granted to those pure of heart. Or, pure enough, if the wish is harmless. Jirachi normally has an assistant who helps to determine if someone is worthy of a wish, but he can do it on his own, too. Wishes alter the flow of the world to make something happen, if it wasn’t going to. Or make it more likely to happen. It alters the world in tiny, tiny ways. The more energy Jirachi puts into it, the greater the change.”

“Oh. So it doesn’t… conjure a new teammate out of thin air?”

“No. Chances are it just gave you the idea to go someplace that might have someone to complete your team.” He looked them over, frowning. “For example, your massive Ice weakness.”

“Oi! We just won’t take missions in cold places.”

“And if you’re dealing with someone who knows Ice attacks?”

“Eh…”

“S-so you didn’t get mind controlled into joining?” Axew asked again, trembling.

“No. Jirachi’s wish… guided you to me. Maybe I was on his mind. Or maybe I was… the most likely person to join, who’d also be a big help to the team. But wishes can come with side effects or ironic solutions, you know.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like me completely outclassing all three of you.”

“You wanna say that to my face?!” Gahi snapped his jaws in his general direction.

Owen’s shoulders sagged and he stared skyward, groaning. He did say it to his face. Unless Gahi wanted him to bend all the way to the ground. Then, he looked down at the jawed peanut and motioned for him to strike.

Gahi opened his jaws wide and lunged, bumping into a golden barrier instantly. Owen flicked a finger in Gahi’s direction when he was down and dazed.

“Eh?”

A pinprick of orange light appeared in front of him that expanded and burst into a plume of fire and heat. Gahi screeched and rolled away, but lost his footing as another explosion enveloped him.

“Gahi!” Axew cried. Bayleef narrowed her eyes, then glared at Owen.

When the smoke cleared, Gahi was covered in soot, but unharmed.

“H-ha! Yeh missed!”

“I know.”

“Eh—”

He was surrounded by a perfect ring of scorch marks.

“I may not be good at shaping molten stone,” Owen said, “but I at least know how to control a flame.”

While Gahi gathered his bearings, Owen approached the trio and crossed his arms, dwarfing all of them. His shadow completely smothered the three.

“If I’m going to be part of your team, it’s going to be as your leader until you can get to my level. I ascended Destiny Tower, you didn’t. You’re training for that by helping others and getting stronger, right? So, I’ll help you do that. If Jirachi didn’t sense any malice from you, then you’re at least pure with your intent.”

“L… lea… der?” Bayleef said, her voice a raspy whisper.

“Are you okay?” Owen asked, gaze softening. “Are you hurt?”

Bayleef’s glare doubled. Owen squinted, unsure if he’d offended her somehow.

“Don’t… p… pity m… me.”

She didn’t seem nervous. Perhaps she just had trouble getting her words out, for some reason. “It’s not pity,” he said. “Are you their leader?”

She tried to speak again, but now no words came. She nodded, in the end.

“Then what is your answer?” Owen asked. “Do you want me on your team?”

She couldn’t speak, but her eyes said everything about her. Calculating, weighing her options calmly. While Gahi was too reckless, but certainly determined, and Axew was cautious but feeble, Bayleef perhaps knew how to direct them both and take advantage of their strengths. Yes. She was their proper leader.

Bayleef nodded, but there was a defiant look in her eyes, like she didn’t truly want to give up her title as leader. Pride? No… she didn’t seem like the sort to hold petty pride.

She pulled Axew close and whispered to him. Owen couldn’t hear it.

“Um… Mispy says, you need to prove that your attitude matches our team’s first. We wouldn’t want a leader that doesn’t know how the team works.”

At first, Owen wanted to scoff. Know how the team worked? Obviously they would have flaws, glaring ones, if their composition already had weaknesses. Yet… they were also a successful team to be taken seriously, and he had to admit, the strike Gahi attempted did have substantial force. They weren’t aimless. Maybe they had merit on their own.

“Deal,” Owen said. “When is our first mission?”

<><><>​

“Do you need a moment, Owen?”

No, no, I’m fine. Sorry.


“You were a team even then. And for five years, you were part of it, going on all kinds of odd jobs across the scattered lands.”

Because back then, there wasn’t really any central society. Bandits were everywhere, and weird… instabilities cropped up like the world wasn’t really holding together. They weren’t Dungeons, just… odd things that happened.

“Mostly my doing. I was in my infancy at the time, and I lashed out where I could.”

In fact, that reminds me of someone who was sent to go on missions related to that…

<><><>​

Year 11

Owen was in a staring contest. It had been minutes by now. The great Charizard versus the tiny Riolu. What irritated him more than anything was that he was losing. His tail lashed and thumped against the ground; the sun beat over their heads. There was no wind in front of Destiny Tower today.

“I don’t get it,” Owen finally muttered. “How are you so strong?”

“Pure, natural talent.” Riolu smirked and held his hands on his hips, chest out. Taking the opportunity, Owen poked him in the gut, letting out all the air in the much tinier Pokémon.

“Oi, oi, what’s th’ big idea?!” He looked ready to kick off the ground to sock Owen in the jaw.

“You let your guard down.”

“Why, I oughta—”

“Hey, hey!”

Before Riolu could do anything more, Jirachi flew in with what looked like a bag of packaged food. More than usual, suggesting that he’d gotten some for Riolu as well.

“Looks like you guys already met,” Jirachi said. “Why the serious faces?”

“He challenged me to a staring contest,” Owen said. “I wasn’t going to lose.”

“You looked away first,” Riolu pointed out, smirking.

Owen let out a long, rumbling growl.

“Competitive as always,” Jirachi said, shrugging. He set down the largest container of food for Owen, sliding it forward with a Psychic aura, and then asked, “I wasn’t sure what your favorite is, so I got something basic for you, Riolu.”

“Eh, sure, yeah. Name’s Manny, by th’ way.”

“Right, right. How casual of you.” Jirachi offered a fruit salad to Manny, who took it with a polite nod. “Where’s the rest of your team, anyway?”

“Training. Gotta catch up, heh.”

“Jirachi, is it true that this… Riolu is someone Mew specifically picked for something? He has Mew’s blessings?”

“Fits the personality, doesn’t it?”

“I—” Owen was about to protest before he realized how true that was. Carefree, confident, a little boasting… Yes, that fit Mew a little too well. “He isn’t even ready for Destiny Tower. Why did she pick him specifically?”

Jirachi shrugged. “Only Mew knows that one. You know how gods can be with secrets and agendas.”

“You’re a god.”

“Yeah, that’s how I know!” Jirachi grinned.

“…What secrets or agendas do you have, hmm?”

“Uh… I’m sure I have one or two sitting around…”

“Oi, which one’s this?” Manny lifted a pink berry from the bowl.

“Pecha,” Owen said, squinting.

“I like it.” He munched on a few, then added, “Hey, y’got any potatoes er somethin’?”

“Potatoes, huh?” Jirachi asked. “Sure, maybe next time I’ll get that! I heard there’s a farm run by a Dunsparce family that grows some of the best potatoes.”

“Well, alright,” Owen said, sighing. “Then I have to go back to wishkeeping.”

In the end, Manny was not someone that Owen saw very often, but he always heard little stories about his escapades around Quartz, often to do with strange shadows or other distortions in the world. Owen associated them with pockets of power that the gods had yet to stabilize, which meant more were needed to ascend to fill the gaps of the world after the calamity that had hit Quartz before, from the erased era.

Owen’s thoughts trailed to his friends. They, too, would probably be part of the effort to fill those gaps…

<><><>​

Manny wasn’t really around in most of my life back then. Who… was he, exactly?

“I suppose you could say he was another hero when the Legends were busy keeping the world stable, and that included you. Manny had a special talent for detecting instabilities that none of us could find as easily. We capitalized on that and searched for them quickly, where we could.”

So he was sort of a special agent for things we missed? I think I remember some of that…


“I remember him being a thorn in my side.”

“Let’s not skip too far ahead, now…”

I wonder why Manny didn’t mention any of—well, now that I think about it, he mentioned that he and Star go way back. Maybe they just forgot the details because of that seal that made us forget you…

“That is likely. Manny was a hero, even prior to ascending. But I do not really know all of the details for it, only that—”


“Can we move on.”

Right, okay… Well, how about when Demitri, Mispy, and Gahi were finally…

<><><>​

Year 15

There was a slight tension in his chest. Owen was starting to feel old, but not that old, surely. But as he sat at the apex of Destiny Tower, staring at one of the marble walls, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to lose another friend. Three friends, in fact.

They’d all made it. All that training, all that hard work, and then forgetting about it for years, and they finally got around to scaling Destiny Tower. And they’d succeeded. He wasn’t going to call them by name, anymore. They wouldn’t realize it was them. Instead, they would be Azelf, Mesprit, and Uxie. He should have seen it coming with how their dynamic worked. And, in some small ways, he felt left out. Once again, Necrozma offered a position to him, and once again he found himself deciding. He was ‘Owen.’ Was it wrong for him to want to keep that? Did that count as unnecessary pride?

Something flew at him and he quickly raised a wing, blocking it. A light body slammed into it, and then came a groan from the attacker.

“Can I help—” Owen stopped. That was Azelf… Gahi.

“So? How do I look, eh? Eh?” He spun around, tails spiraling beneath him. “I guess it’s kinda petite, but ehhhh I’ll get used ter it.”

Uxie floated after them, Mesprit waving nervously at Owen. “Um, we know you get kind of wound up when this sort of thing happens, but it’s really us,” Mesprit said. “Are you gonna be okay with this, Owen?”

“Y-yeah! I made peace with it and everything, I think. I mean, I know!” He nodded quickly, too quickly. “Sorry. Sorry, I’m a mess today. I’m getting nervous over n—”

Azelf headbutted him on the chest, then knocked his tiny fist against it. “Yer fine, yer fine. Oi, let’s do normal stuff. Get you outta that headspace.”

Doing normal things just reminded him of how different they’d become, but it at least made them feel normal. It let them acclimate.

“Sure. How about a mission?”

“Heheheh, we’ll blast any mission outta the water now!” Azelf rocketed into the air and then landed between Owen’s horns. “C’mon, Owen! Time ter go!”

Gods, that reminded him of when he’d been a Trapinch, claiming that he could be leader for a day. He’d scaled his whole body and situated himself on his head like a throne. Owen’s heart felt lighter.

Maybe this, too, would pass into normalcy.

<><><>​

“There was always a lingering sense of doubt, wasn’t there?”

Yeah. There was…

“I’m sorry for how your position became, Owen.”

It’s okay. I liked it, overall, you know. But anyway, I’m starting to remember something else. When Xerneas ascended, and he started to reawaken the life energy of the world so it could flourish, you said there was… a reaction to that. Bigger than usual, right?

“Yes. Usually, when we bring about a Legend, there is a small reaction in the world to signify their ascent. Xerneas was a pronounced one, though. The Tree of Life had formed. But there was something unexpected there, too, that we sent you to investigate. We considered Manny, of course, but it was far, and along with that, you were able to get there faster. Arceus, I recall, said he wanted you to go there fast. Rather than send Manny and his team, we sent you with yours.”


<><><>​

Year 34

Owen hadn’t explored this part of Quartz before. Down south, where it was humid and the trees were tall, there seemed to be a section in the far south, near the center of the continent, where the trees seemed to glow, even at night.

He wasn’t one for flying at night. His flame gave himself away, and some primal part of him said that was bad. But this forest was easier to see at night, so he had no choice.

His paranoia led to him calling for help, though. Azelf, Uxie, and Mesprit accompanied him for this trip—Jirachi had to grant a few wishes, apparently, and then had to write reports of what was wrong to the upper pantheon for adjustments that had to be made. Owen didn’t envy him.

“It’s… crazy dark,” Mesprit said, huddling against Owen’s shoulder.

“The moon isn’t out tonight,” Uxie commented in their minds. “The stars are so bright. If we covered your flame, Owen, it would be perfect.”

“I’d like to keep that open, thanks,” Owen muttered.

“Scared o’ th’ dark?” Azelf said, smirking, as his red gemstone gleamed against the flame.

“Yes. It’s kind of an instinct. It means I’m dying,” Owen replied with a growl. “How would you feel if I put you in a room full of Ghosts, huh?”

“Not the same. And besides, I’d totally beat ‘em.” Azelf smirked.

This wasn’t a battle Owen would win. Instead, he stretched his wings and gained speed. Over the horizon, he saw a tree that was much taller than all the others and blinked. “Was… was this tree always there?”

“Couldn’t be,” Azelf said. “That huge? Nah. We would’ve seen it, easy.”

It was several times the height and width of any other tree around it—and those alone dwarfed even some hillsides. Draped down from the branches were long strands of golden bubbles, and the leaves themselves were like staring at a rainbow. Owen had a feeling that it was even more striking, being nighttime.

“Go lower,” Uxie advised. “I can sense something near the base. Only… three, though, that aren’t just wild Pokémon.”

“Three’s better’n zero,” Azelf said. “Maybe they’ll have answers.”

Owen found a good landing spot and spread his wings, careful not to knock any branches. Even though he was confident in his flame’s control, he kept his tail elevated and verified with Uxie which way to go. It was nice that Uxie was able to use her telepathy to speak to them so readily; as a Meganium, she had always struggled to talk.

This was a great forest. The leaves glowed brighter than any moonlight and he had no need to flare his tail to light the way.

“Here?” Owen said.

“Yes, somewhere here.”

Owen nodded and folded his wings behind him. “Hello?” he called. “My name is Charizard Owen. I’m here from Star Cave, assistant to Jirachi. I’m here on behalf of the newly ascended Xerneas in search of a great life force found here. I mean no harm!”

A breeze rustled the treetops, but little else happened. The great, radiant tree loomed above them, lighting the forest like a dim sun.

“There’s no way a place like this existed before,” Azelf said. “Then again, how’s a whole tree pop up like this?”

“I understand if you are suspicious,” Owen called out again, “and perhaps they should have sent Xerneas himself, but he is still, eh… acclimating to his power. And I know having someone like me, with my fire, might be… scary to the forest, but I have good control over it! And I’m big, but I, uh, I was careful to land?”

“…You need to work on your ‘be not afraid’ speeches,” Uxie said. Despite her eyes being closed as she scanned her surroundings for life energy, Owen could sense her glare.

“I don’t have to do it that often, okay?” Owen hissed back. “Um, I mean—so, it’s safe! Really!”

The wind blew again. Uxie spotted something, but didn’t tell him where. Perhaps they were approaching.

“I just—”

“I’m here.”

Off the path, between two trees, stood a Goodra that dwarfed even Owen by at least a foot. The Charizard gaped, having no idea there was another like him. “Y-you… you what? You’re…”

She squinted as well, looking Owen over. “Wait… I’ve seen you before.”

The way the Goodra spoke was itching something in the back of Owen’s mind, too, but it was too faded for him to tell.

“Well, it’s probably not important,” she said, sighing. “My name is Madeline. I… woke up near here a long time ago, and I’ve been taking care of someone ever since.”

Owen felt that there had been a lie there. “You’ve been taking care of someone?”

Madeline nodded. “Yes. Someone. And it’s nothing for you to worry about, so you may leave.”

“How long has this tree been here?” Owen added.

“It’s a tree. I imagine it’s always been here.”

It could have been sass. But it was an odd way to answer the question. “Then, it used to be smaller?” he guessed.

“Can you leave?” Madeline hissed, the air around her seeming to sharpen. Owen could feel a tingling feeling along his arms, like it threatened to slice his scales apart if he got too close. She was strong.

“Um.” Mesprit raised a tiny hand. “You’re both super big. That’s something you have in common, isn’t it? You don’t have to be afraid… You both probably got your power in a similar way.”

“Hey, yeah! And we’re sacred and stuff!” Azelf plopped onto Owen’s head, facing Madeline. “C’mon, lighten up! Ain’t worth fightin’ over this.”

Uxie drifted closer as well. “What would help you believe us?” She looked back. “If only one of us went, would you feel safer? You can overpower this one easily.” She gestured to Owen.

“Excuse me,” Owen grunted.

“He is not ascended like us. He is weaker. We could turn him into a wallet if we wished.”

“That’s really specific, Mi—Uxie!”

“…Then stay away, far away,” Madeline commanded.

Uxie nodded and floated back, grabbing Mesprit and the much larger Azelf’s tails to follow behind her. Azelf growled but complied.

Madeline led Owen down a path that went around the huge tree before turning toward the tree’s base. There, one of the roots had been raised to reveal a cave that went underground. It looked like part of the cave had collapsed, yet there were signs of something powerful blasting a way out again. The scent of lingering dragon fire tickled Owen’s nostrils. Spicy.

“Do not come any closer,” Madeline said, and Owen stopped immediately. She commanded such authority… And she had a sophisticated accent. Nothing like his.

“Is here alright?” Owen asked.

Madeline said nothing, but didn’t disprove, so Owen remained. The Goodra then peeked inside the cave and called, “Aster. Leph. You may come out.”

Owen’s eyes went from half-open from boredom to bulging from surprise. Shyly emerging from the cave underneath the radiant tree were two familiar figures, scaled down until they were barely larger than his foot. Someone who looked just like Arceus, but with a duller ring without any gemstones around her abdomen, and standing, from hoof to head, only a foot in height. And just behind her, floating like a little sprite, was someone like Mew, like Tim, only small enough to curl up inside an Oran. He would barely be able to hug one of his fingers.

“You… you need to—I’m sorry,” Owen said, standing more respectfully. “I did not know you were caring for… someone of that nature.”

“What do you mean?” Madeline said. “Of what nature?”

“Who are you?” the tiny Arceus said, her eyes filled with suspicion. But Owen saw something more in the way she stepped forward. She looked thin. Did she need to eat? Had she been eating? Owen glanced behind him, at the trees. There were plentiful berries… “Things just got better here. Are you here to steal? Auntie Madeline said… bad people stole from good places. Are you a bad person?”

Madeline’s gaze softened, but she kept her eyes trained on Owen.

“…My name is Charizard Owen, of Star Cave. I am the assistant to Wishmaker Jirachi. My job is to judge the lightness of one’s heart and the heaviness of one’s wish before allowing them passage to see Jirachi. I have been given the blessings of Necrozma as proof of my merit.” He turned to reveal the mark on his back, focusing to make it glow.

Madeline tilted her head. “You spoke well there,” she said.

He was a bit ashamed of it, but his flame grew at the compliment. “Do you trust me now?”

“This… Necrozma. I heard his voice, too, but had no means to travel to the tower he wished. I stayed here all this time because I found these two and… felt a need to take care of them.” Madeline hummed. “This place was a wasteland until a few days ago. It was haunted by strange creatures that… Well, we haven’t seen them lately. But they didn’t bother us if we stayed put…”

Strange creatures? Perhaps he could ask about that later, if they found anything like that. But there was something much more pressing in front of him. “That one is… supposed to be one-of-a-kind,” Owen said, gesturing to Leph. “And he’s with a Mew like that one. Only, er, they’re both bigger.”

“And what do you plan to do with this information?” Madeline asked. “They are children.”

“Would you like to come with me to Destiny Tower?” Owen said. “They can be helped there. Perhaps from… for all I know… their real parents. N-not to insult you, or anything.”

“…How can I tell that you’re speaking the truth?” Madeline asked.

Owen sighed, thinking. Proof, proof… “Oh.” He nodded. “If I had the gods give you a sign, would that be enough?”

“…If you can perform such a miracle so easily, then of course,” Madeline said with a smirk, like she knew it wouldn’t happen.

Frankly, he’d have reacted the same way.

Normally, Owen would not make use of such a channel, but this seemed… like an okay exception. He closed his eyes in prayer. “Arceus, Mew, can you hear my call? This is Owen. Sorry if this distracts from other prayers you hear. Arceus, Mew, I have found children that resemble you, being taken care of by a noble Goodra. Please, send a sign my way to prove my worth to her, so she may entrust them to us.”

“Um, Auntie?” Leph asked, shrinking. Aster was hiding behind the Goodra’s tail. “Why is the crazy dragon talking to himself?”

The sky suddenly lit up with gold. Leph cried out; Aster made a weak whimper. Madeline instinctually swung her tail such that it protected Leph from the light. It was a single spear of light, and Owen, as if following a thought that wasn’t his own, raised his hand. The spear, at absurd speeds, flew toward him, and he followed a silent command to clench his fist just then.

A horrible burning singed his palm, but he’d caught the spear, which crackled with holy light. He winced, but kept holding it, and faced Madeline.

“Will that do?” Owen asked, twirling the spear as it dissipated.

“I…” Madeline clearly hadn’t expected to see proof. “I suppose it will, Charizard.”

<><><>​

Year 35

“Are you sure this is right?” Owen said with mild concern, staring into the stone oven. A traditional contraption. The heat washed over his face, leaving the great Charizard unbothered.

Next to Owen was a ghostly figure with a wispy head and blue eyes. He wore a necklace with a pink crescent that rested against his chest, glimmering in the dark from the soft light of Owen’s flame.

“I think so,” Darkrai said, hand to his chin. “Er, let me take a look.” He waved Owen aside, but the moment he got close, he yelped and rapidly pat his face. “Hot, hot!”

“Oh, right, yeah.”

“Too hot! What did you set it to?!”

“You said until I could feel the heat.”

“Until I can feel the heat, Owen! Oh, no, no, this is a nightmare!”

Owen stared, but realized Darkrai couldn’t see him.

“Take it out! Ah, too hot!”

The Charizard reached into the oven and pulled out the sizzling dough. Cookies… how was he supposed to make cookies? Why was dough so fickle? None of this made sense. Why couldn’t he just bake them instantly with a very hot flame? Why did it have to be slow and ‘gentle?’ Flames weren’t gentle. They were hot!

“Let’s have this cool down and… I think we can salvage this on a low flame. Sorry, Owen. I should have been clearer.” He sighed again, shaking his head. “Oh, if only Cresselia could help. She’s so much better at explaining…”

“Why are we using such an old-fashioned oven, anyway?” Owen complained. “Can’t we use one of the thousands of ovens Palkia probably invented?”

“Because the last invention I got from him turned my hair orange for a month!”

Charizard looked at the white, wispy clouds that radiated off of Darkrai. “…I mean, it didn’t look that bad.”

Darkrai huffed and returned to cooling the stone oven. Owen rolled his eyes, but then something tiny and pink caught his attention in the corner of the room. “Hm? Oh!” He quickly softened his voice. “Hey, little Aster… You visiting?”

The Mew, so small he could fit in Owen’s palm, floated backwards and against the wall. “U-um…”

“Ohh, Aster. So good to see you.” Darkrai tried to make his eyes as friendly as possible, even tilting his head. Owen could tell, though, that the ‘king of nightmares’ wouldn’t look very kind to a young child, even with the cute necklace.

“It’s okay. This is Darkrai. He’s friendly!”

“I—I’ll just take my leave for now,” Darkrai said with an awkward nod, drifting deeper into the caverns. Soon ,he was just a glowing eye in the dark.

Owen sighed, but then smiled at Aster. “What’s got you here, Aster?” he asked, walking gingerly closer. Another flash caught his attention and he quickly raised his hand, blocking several javelins of light that had nearly pierced through him. The attack itself had little weight behind it, though.

“Leph,” Owen growled, eyes narrowed.

“It… it just came out!” someone squeaked. “You got too close to Aster…”

Something that resembled Arceus peeked around the corner of the hall before drifting forward. Her green-red eyes had suspicion in them and Aster flew away, hiding behind the little goddess.

“You can’t go off shooting anyone that you think is suspicious. This is why you can’t see normal people yet, Leph…”

“Maybe I don’t wanna,” Leph said back, but flinched when her eyes met Owen’s.

The great Charizard sighed, rubbing his eyes. “What am I gonna do with you…”

<><><>​

So, they were… born from the Tree of Life?

“I had a guess that they were meant to be the gods of this world, born when it was created. Replicas of ‘youthful’ versions of the true creators. I wasn’t sure what to think of it, but, well, they existed. It was only right to care for them until they found their place like all the other Legends.”

Yeah… But as the years passed, I, well… I was still mortal. And I was slowing down. Tim was getting worried about that and asked Necrozma what would happen. What did you tell him?

“I said in no uncertain terms that if you did not choose an ascended form, you would die. Your spirit would go to me and rest until the world’s end. I thought that would mean you would finally choose that, as I didn’t want you to leave Tim in such a way, but… Well. Tim had a different idea.

“It all started one day, when you finally, truly showed signs of age…”


“It was around this time that you also softened, didn’t you?”

“Softened?”

“You began to toy with the idea of descending, even temporarily, to better relate to mortals.”

“Oh, that wasn’t my idea. It was Jirachi’s, and Owen’s. To be able to return to your mortal forms, temporarily.”

I remember that. Even you came up with one, didn’t you? You became a…


“Owen?”

“Ah… Yes. I do not think my other half knows who he truly is. Unfortunate.”

<><><>​

Year 63

It was just another day in front of Star Cave. Unless it was an emergency—and the gods had ways to tell if it was—mortals were turned away from the cavern’s clearing by a faraway, magical ward. Today was the time to celebrate a new year.

There was only light snowfall tonight, and most of it evaporated before it could touch Owen anyway thanks to his natural heat. He spread his wings and gladly shared his warmth with the others, who subconsciously huddled near him, particularly those weak to Ice—and there were a lot of those in the pantheon.

“I really do appreciate these potlucks,” Palkia said as he set down a large tray of glittering snacks. “Gives me the perfect opportunity to share my experimental treats with you all!”

“Specifically, those who won’t perish the moment they try a volatile one,” Rayquaza said with a disapproving frown, pulling the tray away from Owen.

“I wasn’t gonna,” Owen lied.

A breeze blew through the clearing, picking up some of the snow. A bit actually touched his scales and he winced; for once, the water felt cold by the time it got to him.

“Pretty chilly today,” the Charizard said.

Giratina lost more than three quarters of her height as she sank into the ground like a pool of steaming water, looking more relaxed.

“That’s cheating,” Rayquaza complained, but all Giratina did was close her eyes nonchalantly.

“Mesprit’s cooking is always the best!” declared Aster. The Mew held up a sandwich layered in meats and vegetables, steaming in the cold weather. The full moon illuminated the bread like it was somehow as sacred as the rest of them.

Owen reached for one of the sandwiches as well, taking a grateful bite as Yveltal flew in from the edge of the clearing, careful not to disturb any of the food with gusts of wind.

“Hello,” she greeted, lowering further so Xerneas could climb awkwardly off of her back.

“We’re late,” Xerneas announced.

“Not too late,” Owen replied, taking a bite again. The taste wasn’t as good as it usually was, which puzzled him. The cooking seemed fine.

The rest of the conversation between them all seemed to blur. He noted that Necrozma and the other high gods hadn’t arrived yet, based on how so little was illuminated, until a flash of light announced their arrival.

“Fashionably late as usual, are we?” Palkia said, waving a claw idly at the four arrivals. There was Star, of course, as well as Hecto next to her. The Zygarde must have only brought some of him to the party, as he was only a canine this time. Just behind Star was Arceus, perhaps here out of tradition and formality.

“Where is Necrozma?” Owen asked, looking around for the light dragon.

“You’re not gonna believe this,” Star said. “I finally convinced him to agree to one of my tricks!”

“Tricks?” Owen squinted. “I don’t like the sound of—oh, er, hello. Are you lost?”

Standing behind Arceus, Star, and Hecto was a Shiftry, standing awkwardly with both arms out like he didn’t know what to do with them. Star was cackling, rolling in the air before conjuring a psychic bubble, only to pound it like a table.

“He doesn’t even recognize you!” Star wheezed.

That got all heads to turn.

“Wait…” Owen blinked. “…N… Necrozma?!”

Necrozma, the Shiftry, nodded curtly. It was… surreal to see him with pupils.

“Goodness,” Rayquaza said, curling his body downward as if to get a better look. “How… diminutive.”

“I’m quite vulnerable like this,” Necrozma said. “This is very off-procedure. But… as you know… I’ve been told that I can ruin the night sky in my proper form. And this is a very rare, traditional gathering. I decided, perhaps just this once…”

“Wait, so does that mean your mortal form is a Shiftry?” Owen asked.

“No. This was an arbitrary form. Which means it’s likely even weaker.”

Yveltal shuffled away from Necrozma, gently pecking at Xerneas to switch places with her so he’d be closer.

“Not that weak,” Necrozma grunted. “Really.” But in this new form, Owen could see that flash of doubt in his voice. He certainly wasn’t comfortable.

“All just so we could see the sky easier?” Owen asked.

“Just for this time. That is all. I’ll be returning right back to my proper form when the opportunity is given.”

“So sweet.” Star was still giggling, but she sighed long enough to give him a genuine smile. “It was still really nice of you, Necrozma. Thanks.”

“…I’m not used to it being so dark…”

That… resonated a lot with Owen. It was awfully dark tonight. “You can hang around by me,” Owen offered.

He took the offer quickly but gracefully, even in his quasi-mortal form, and they continued to eat. Owen went for a second sandwich before going for one of Darkrai’s sweet treats—he was a master of pastries, after all—and the night got darker. A lot darker, to the point where most eyes were on the sky to admire it all. Azelf rested against Owen’s side, staring with him, and he liked that. They all twinkled so beautifully.

It seemed like the clouds were rolling in, but everyone was still staring at the sky. That was odd. He eyed some of them, and then noted that it was getting very dark without that starlight. It was starting to get him anxious. Charizard weren’t supposed to see such darkness. That only meant—

Worriedly, Owen glanced behind him, at his tail, but then, alarmingly, he realized he could barely see. Was some sort of darkness crawling over them? A magical darkness? What did that mean?

He heard a faint buzzing around him, like talking, speech he didn’t understand. Something was wrong, definitely wrong, so he tried to stand, and suddenly a force kept him from moving. He cried for them but the words weren’t forming in his mouth.

Little hands touched his cheek and he recognized them vaguely as Azelf. In his vision was the vague, blue shape of his head and those red gems and wide eyes. What was happening? Were they under attack? Paranoia gripped him and he reeled back, blasting fire skyward, like that would scare the darkness away. He couldn’t be in darkness. And he could barely see his flames.

He whimpered helplessly and flailed when more hands or wings or hooves held him down. It all faded into a blur of horrible colors and feelings and sounds. Bile rose in his throat. He tried to hold it down, like it mattered, as his body moved on its own.

Vision left him next. In pure, primal panic, he lunged forward in a void, then fell to the ground. Motionless, he focused on his labored breathing, finally realizing how hot everything felt.

Blurrily, he faded in and out of consciousness, confused, scared, disoriented, until colors started to return. Then clarity and light, and that panic quickly left him. His eyes darted around frantically, a feral growl behind his every breath. So many eyes were on him and there was a foul smell in the air.

Right by him was Jirachi, looking like he’d seen a ghost. There was a sorrowful but composed look from Arceus near the back, and Star couldn’t bear to look at the scene, either. Azelf and Jirachi were both floating in front, asking him something, but Owen couldn’t quite register the words yet.

Yveltal was far away, trembling, with Palkia and Rayquaza assuring her that it wasn’t anything she’d done. And Owen just realized that Xerneas was next to him, holding a hoof to his side, his horns alight. Owen’s flame was blazing with life again. It all felt… temporary.

Finally, everything came into focus, his mind the last to catch up. Wanting details, he could only meekly ask, “What happened?”

<><><>​

“In the end, what happened was… you simply were getting old, Owen.”

“Mortal bodies can be at their prime and slowly fade. Some can be just fine before a single incident, sometimes out of pure chance, plunges them into their final years.”

“But Charizard in particular tend to age gracefully, with a very long prime, before hitting rapid decline. Your shift in health was dramatic and sudden, even for your kind. After that incident… well. Jirachi feared the worst.”

“And with sudden changes come sudden decisions. He toyed with the cycle of life and death.”

“With the help of several Legends who were friends with him, of course. And by the time they were well along and I found out… I suppose I let it slide. You had all the qualifications to become a Legend, after all. It was… a unique circumstance. And the world was temporary. There didn’t seem to be any harm in it.”

Who helped?

“Well, Palkia was quite inventive, thanks to having been Michael—er, Nevren to you. He schemed out the idea. It was then the combined power of Azelf’s will, Jirachi’s wishes, and the very embodiments of life and death themselves to—”

Sorry, I don’t remember this yet. Who were Yveltal and Xerneas?

“Step and Ra.”

You’re kidding.

“I am not. In fact, in the past, Yveltal was much… nicer than you’d expect, knowing Step. In any case, between gentle Yveltal and Xerneas not caring for your departure, they all agreed… and created what still exists today: the Reincarnation Machine.”


<><><>​

Every movement was laborious. He no longer had the strength to fly. Owen was not afraid of death and had in fact come to terms with it long ago. He was friends with Yveltal, after all, and knew the kind quiet his final moments would provide, and the warm comfort of all his friends around him.

So, when Jirachi had approached him about some strange machine that would let him remain, he was apprehensive. He hadn’t told Necrozma. It was all apparently a great secret in the southeastern corner of Quartz, in some underground facility. Ruins that had been rediscovered from the time before the cataclysm. Lost technologies there, combined with new technologies in Quartz…

“What… is this?” Owen asked, wobbling forward.

“Whoa there, big guy.” Azelf tried to hold Owen up while his much smaller counterparts struggled to keep up.

On even footing again, Owen made sure to thank the three.

Ahead was a single glass cylinder with an odd interface at the bottom. He didn’t understand any of it, but when he looked at the top of the chamber, he saw an empty orb, longing for something.

“Owen,” Jirachi said, “I found a way that you can still live. It’s not too late after all.”

“What do you mean?” Owen asked. “Tim, I’m… old. Even if I could live longer, it’s getting hard to move. Hard to do anything…”

“It’s okay, Owen. This will return you to your youth, too. You’ll get to live life again.” Jirachi spoke in a soft whisper. “Wouldn’t you want that? Then you won’t have to…”

Owen frowned. “Just me? What about everyone else who dies as they should? I’ve lived a long life, Jirachi…”

“But you live with us. With the Legends. You could have, too, but—”

“But I denied that. Why should I get the rewards if I denied the responsibilities?”

“What you’ve already done is responsibility enough! And perhaps more. You could keep working for us, so it’s not like you’re freeloading!”

Owen was getting tired again. He just wanted to nap. Maybe he could think about it tomorrow, whatever crazy scheme Jirachi had come up with.

“I… I don’t want to leave you behind. That’s true.” Owen looked down. “What should I expect?”

“You’ll be falling asleep, and then you’ll be in there.” Jirachi pointed at the empty orb. “That’s where a small piece of your spirit goes. Then, whenever you die, your spirit will go there instead of to Necrozma… and we can place your spirit in a new body.”

“New… body. But will I remember anything?”

“I know you will. Even if it’s not immediately, you will eventually. I’m sure of it. Memories are eternal in a spirit. Besides… Uxie is friends with us. She can help! So… a-are you ready? You want to do this?”

He couldn’t say no, really. Not with those hopeful little eyes. And part of him didn’t want to go, either. So, with a resigned smile, he nodded.

“Hold your hand right here,” Jirachi directed. “I’m going to turn it on. This shouldn’t hurt.”

Owen placed a hand on the side of the container. This part of the glass felt different. Colder, and like it was drawing a part of him in. Moments later, Jirachi pressed a few buttons on the interface and told him to keep still.

The most surreal feeling passed over him. He was staring down at himself for a glimpse, and he saw how old he truly was. Dull scales, sagging skin, a sputtering flame, and wrinkly wings. And he also looked up, and he made eye contact with himself. Sleepy eyes waiting for the next nap, not really paying attention to the full details around him. He felt sorry for him.

And then, the feeling passed. He was staring up at a little golden ember in the orb, blinking.

“And that’s all?” Owen asked. “Do I sleep now?”

“You do. Just rest, Owen. One day, you’ll wake up here.”

<><><>​

Year 64

Top-heavy, weak, wobbly, and soft-scaled, Owen wanted to cry. But that wasn’t too different from how he had normally been feeling lately. All around him were things that were frustratingly familiar. A bed that he instinctively wanted to climb onto; strange, square things with flat bits to turn over to reveal many drawings and symbols, but he didn’t know what they said; other creatures walking or floating into his room, and he felt he should be scared, but he also knew them, even though he didn’t.

Everything was new to him, and yet everything was also familiar. And every time that happened, he wanted to cry, because that felt like the default.

The big, star-headed thing was the happiest to see him. And that made Owen happy, too.

“Owen, breakfast!” someone called.

He knew that word, and he wobbled out of bed, tripping over a small fire—he grabbed a piece of wood to eat later—and sniffed around for more proper food.

“Hey, over here, Owen!” It was the star-headed creature. The name flashed in his mind. Jirachi. This was Jirachi. And Jirachi was nice. He knew this. For some reason, he also remembered him being a lot smaller.

“You liked Tamato berries, right? So this is a Tamato salad I made. I kept them on the more mild side, though. You’re still young.”

“Tamato,” Owen repeated, his voice extremely high and juvenile.

“Yes, good!”

Owen chirped happily, tail flame swishing behind him.

Moments later, three similar-looking Pokémon floated into the room, though these ones had gray bodies and red, blue, or yellow heads.

“Hey, Owen,” called the blue one. Azelf. The name popped into his head.

“Hi!” He waved, giggling. So many familiar faces.

But then he noticed one more person walking into their little cave. This one was a Shiftry that had a soft, golden glow. Suddenly, the atmosphere seemed to get heavier, and Owen went quiet.

“O-oh, it’s… Hello.” Jirachi flew in front of Owen, with his back facing him. “How are you doing?” he asked the Shiftry.

“I’m doing well,” he said.

Silence. Owen tried to lean over to see past Jirachi. It was weird that he was on the ground.

“Uh, eh, so, yeh doin’ alright?” Azelf asked.

“Yes, I said that.”

“E-eh, righ’…”

“May I see your friend?”

There was renewed tension. He raised his leaves.

“I only want to speak to him.”

It seemed like they couldn’t refuse. Eventually, Jirachi stepped aside, and Owen stepped back, feeling guarded. He didn’t know why he felt guarded. He trusted this face, too, so he didn’t know why the others felt that way.

“Do you remember me, Owen?”

The Charmander hesitantly nodded. “Necrozma…”

“Good. Good.” His face showed no expression. It was weird. But he was nice, right? “I want you to know, Owen, that when you’re ready, I’ll happily continue training with you. I understand the circumstances behind—”

Owen growled.

“…Is something the matter?”

“Big words.”

“Ah, I apologize. Your vocabulary must still be returning to you, along with… everything else.”

Owen growled again. “Not stupid.”

“Yes. Of course.” And this time, it seemed like Necrozma was shifting uncomfortably. He stepped back. “Well, when you are… returned to your old self, or whenever you wish to see me, I will be around. As… Uncle Necrozma?”

He scrunched his muzzle at that. “Weird.”

“Weird indeed.” Necrozma seemed to smile just then. “Just Necrozma is fine. Well. That will be all. I have other things to do. Thank you, Jirachi.”

“Er, thanks…”

And without another word, he walked back out of the cave. Jirachi and the others exchanged uneasy glances at first, but then Mesprit smiled.

“Looks like he’s fine with it after all,” he said.

“Yeah…” Relief washed over Jirachi’s expression at the realization. “Yeah. Well. I guess we’re in the clear after all…”

“Sometimes I don’t know what goes on in that guy’s head,” Mesprit said, sighing. “What do you think, Azelf?”

“Eh. Who cares?” Azelf floated over to Owen and grinned. “Glad ter have yeh back, partner.”

Partner. Yes, he liked that.

It felt like everything was going to be okay.

<><><>​

And that’s how it all started. I guess even before the mutant stuff, I lived life after life…

“And died many deaths as well. Some were quite sudden. And embarrassing. For example, when you hadn’t fully regained your strength, there was an incident with a horde of angry—”

I’ll remember those later, thanks…

“Right… Perhaps not relevant. Still, that was how things had gone for a while. You would wake up in a new body, recover your memories rapidly, and repeat the training cycle again. Your spirit was already strong, so your body caught up very quickly. You were an unofficial Legend, as far as everyone was concerned. As part of your duties, you were given portions of Jirachi’s power to carry with you. If you saw someone in need, you used that raw power to help them. Over time, you got the title of Wishkeeper because of it. Tell me, just who did you meet during those travels?”


“That would be—”

Mhynt…

“Nngh…”

“Patience, Diyem. In time.”

My first life in Quartz was the most eventful. And had it not been for the Reincarnation Machine, that would have been it.

“But in the end, that is not how it turned out. You’re here with us, after all.”


“All of your other lives were quite routine, but not without their own stories. Stories you don’t have time for… I’m getting tired.”

That’s okay. I can think about those later. What’s important is… what happened almost a thousand years later.

When I met Mhynt… and when the world was going to end.


<><><>

Author’s Note: Thanks for reading! And a special thanks to Ambyssin, soliloquy, Shadow of Antioch, and Sparkling Espeon for beta reading and going above and beyond in making sure this Special Episode (and the next) are in good form. It was a very tricky one to write out and went through a lot of changes for pacing. As a result, the next chapter will be, already, Special Episode 10 – Wishkeeper. Expect to see it in another four weeks. It’s another big one. Thanks for your patience!
 
Special Episode 10 - Wishkeeper

Namohysip

Dragon Enthusiast
Staff
Partners
  1. flygon
  2. charizard
  3. milotic
  4. zoroark-soda
  5. sceptile
  6. marowak
  7. jirachi
Special Episode 10 - Wishkeeper

Year 982

“Okay, okay, it’s okay!” Wishkeeper held his hands forward firmly, but the Sceptile in front of him was inconsolable. “Please, speak carefully, and from the beginning. What’s going on?”

“My daughter, my daughter, please!”

It was a whole scene inside a small village south of Quartz Mountain. A Sceptile, wailing desperately for help, only a few buildings away from the actual place she was supposed to report problems. Instead, she’d seen Wishkeeper, who of course stood out from everyone else thanks to being taller than the buildings themselves.

“What in the world is going on?” called someone from a nearby home.

“Someone was kidnapped!”

“Kidnapped?”

“Bandits…”

Wishkeeper took in the context clues, but let Sceptile calm herself. She was old. Her scales were sagging and her leaves looked soft and withered. If she had to fight, perhaps she could, but she was nowhere near a state to assist in any rescues. If she offered, he would firmly refuse.

“Tell me everything and I’ll help.” Wishkeeper nodded.

Suddenly, Wishkeeper got a flash of something when he locked eyes with this old Sceptile. Images. He saw a little Treecko swinging a wooden sword strapped to her arm. Horrible stance. There was a Rhydon nearby, smiling cheerily. Then the images rapidly melted to an adolescent Grovyle, rolling her eyes and nodding. Exasperated about yet another question about her wellbeing. Then, a Sceptile, lithe but powerful, holding something over her shoulder. It looked like delivery supplies. Yes, she was a messenger.

This was a power granted to him by Necrozma to help with his Wishkeeping duties, but it had been recent. He still wasn’t that used to it… being able to read someone’s past that way. In some ways, it was overwhelming.

The images disappeared and Wishkeeper was staring at Sceptile again. No time had passed. In fact, she’d only just started talking. Details, details. A forest to the west, along the trail, was where her daughter—a Sceptile named Mhynt—had last been seen. She had disappeared a day ago, which made Wishkeeper’s stomach feel cold. A whole day. Anything could have happened to her.

Wishkeeper nodded and asked for some distance. He flew directly to the forest.

The trail was easy to see even from above, and once he landed, he saw what looked like signs of a struggle a quarter of the way along the known trail. He landed and checked. He nearly touched some of the ground, but then recalled the blessings he’d been granted by Necrozma and closed his eyes. The center of his back felt hot as he channeled energy from the mark placed there. His body was still young and acclimating to that power again, so it burned.

In moments, he knew the area around him completely. Buried rocks and stones, discarded berries, the network of roots, and all the abnormal gashes left in the trail to the left, along the wood. Gashes that perfectly matched a Leaf Blade. There were also patterns of puncture marks in the soil that matched a thrashing Sceptile’s tail. Accompanying the marks were other footprints and markings impossible for a Sceptile to make unconsciously.

Kidnapping. So, she had lost. He didn’t sense any thick liquids in the dirt or congealed mud, and it hadn’t rained recently. No blood had been spilled, or if it had, it wasn’t significant. Perhaps there was still time.

He followed the trail of destruction, noting that these struggles were getting weaker. They abruptly stopped, and that only meant there was a hidden passageway. He was starting to get a headache from keeping Perceive active for so long. He would have to take a break soon.

But he at least found a suspicious vine whose connections went beyond his normal vision. He suppressed his Perceive and sighed with relief as the pressure on his head and the burn on his back both subsided.

The secret entrance was an underground tunnel obscured by leaves and tree branches.

He was also too big.

Muttering a curse, he folded his wings and then crouched down, and he barely fit through the entrance. This was going to be horribly claustrophobic, and his sheer bulk kept his natural flame from illuminating the way forward. Primal fear gnawed at him, but there was a Sceptile in need to rescue deeper inside. He couldn’t stop.

But only five steps inside and he stepped on a part of the ground that felt too solid, and yet gave way too much to his weight. Then came a click, and he realized he should have set his Perceive on anyway. Now, it was too late.

A strange, yellow powder filled his vision and he snorted to burn most of it away. Some of it clung to and between his scales, sinking into his blood next. His muscles were locking up, but he tensed and resisted most of it. He powered through, releasing the tile.

Then came a deluge of greenish powder, and he held his breath. That didn’t stop it from entering his scales the same way. He powered through again, hearing shuffling ahead.

“Hey!” spat a Gabite, crouching down with his claws forward. “What’re you doing in here? Who’re you working for?”

“I am here,” Wishkeeper said, realizing that his voice was more slurred than he wanted it to be, “to find Sceptile Mhynt and put an end to whatever bandit gang you have operating here, at once!”

“Hah! Good luck.” He slammed his claw into the dirt next to him and then ducked. Wishkeeper wasn’t sure why until a segment of the wall opened up. A vacuum sound followed, and then three poison-laced thorns whirled through the air.

Without a twitch, a golden barrier conjured itself in front of the Charizard, deflecting them. But several more came from other directions, and he couldn’t block them all. From other alcoves, nocturnal eyes reflected the dim light of his flame. This wasn’t a gang. This was a whole squadron!

<><><>​

“In retrospect, your first mistake was entering without taking a break.”

I know, I know…


“Did you really enter hostile territory alone and unequipped?”

I got careless! Besides, I died all the time!

“Oh, don’t worry, I reprimanded him about it.”

Can we just move on?


<><><>​

Wishkeeper stomped over a ground that was more Pokémon than dirt. Despite the fact that he’d defeated them all by his own flames, that fire was finite. He was bruised, cut, wounded, and dizzy. All kinds of toxins were flowing, and he briefly wondered if his blood was still the majority of what flowed through him.

But as he rounded the corner and saw a Sceptile standing at the entrance, looking battle-ready, he smiled with relief. That was easily her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, cautious and not lowering her stance. She was covered in small wounds herself. Had she been fighting off the bandits, too?

His orange flame reflected off of her eyes as he wobbled. He reached out, knowing that they’d all been defeated. “Come on,” he said, “let’s go. It’s safe.”

Her mouth was agape with surprise, then a flash of exasperation. She dug through a bag under her neck and produced a small sack of powder. “Idiot,” she muttered, tossing it at Wishkeeper. In his surprise, a single breath was all it took for him to fall asleep.

<><><>​

Time passed in an instant, and he was on his back. His stirring brought about fearful shouts, but they were all quieted by a single, cutting voice above them all.

“Quiet!”

His vision returned in blurry shapes first, seeing mostly greens and yellows.

“Are you awake?” called a gentle voice.

“Sleepy…”

“Yes, you’re sleepy. What’s your name?”

“Mmggh, Wishkeeper Owen… Charizard, if you couldn’t tell…”

“That was unclear to me, thank you.”

“You’re welcome…”

“Wishkeeper? Did he say Wishkeeper? The Wishkeeper? Oh, Gods, we’re in divine trouble now!”

“I’m not ready for divine retribution!”

“If he beat us up already does that count?”

“Shh!” Mhynt snarled at them. “…I’m sorry if they gave you any trouble.”

“Muh?” He finally found the coordination to sit up. The ceiling nearly touched his horns.

Aside from Mhynt herself, they were all staring fearfully at him. Pokémon of all kinds, fur or feathers, scales or skin. All a little beaten up or burned. He slowly realized that those were burns from him.

“They’re under me,” Mhynt explained. “I… put them in their place.”

“You what?”

Mhynt sighed and gave what felt like a very brief explanation. She was part of the town that Wishkeeper had been sent from as a messenger between two settlements. That was her official career. On the side, however, she led a team of enforcers that kept the traveling paths safe, and had recently caught wind of a gang of troublemakers who stole from unlucky travelers.

This strange Sceptile had intentionally gotten herself caught after having gauged their strength, and beat them all from within. She had tied up their leader and somehow asserted herself on all the underlings, and suddenly she was their leader instead.

“All in one day?” Wishkeeper asked, incredulous.

“After some planning,” Mhynt clarified. “I want you to look at them closely, Wishkeeper. They are Pokémon who can hear the feral tongue. They tend to listen to strength and have trouble finding guidance on their own.”

“Listen to the…” Wishkeeper frowned. He, too, could hear those words, as could Ire, but he didn’t know what that had to do with anything. Their kind were rapidly assimilating into the rest of society, after all, generations upon generations until the two accents became one. It did make Wishkeeper feel lonely, his accent so strange in the current era, but times change.

“They aren’t at their best. I knew this after some study. So, please, they will be better now. Do you understand?”

“…You beat them all up?”

“Didn’t you?”

Wishkeeper blinked. “Yes, but, you know, I work under Necrozma.”

Mhynt nodded, then looked him over. “I suppose you do.” She was half his size. “Do you need anything?”

“I should be fine…” He finally staggered up. “I’ll send word to your mother that things are fine.”

“My mother? I had already sent word a while ago. Long before you’d arrived.” Her eyes trailed behind Wishkeeper, glaring at someone.

It was the Gabite from before, who hissed fearfully. “Y-yes! I sent a message, said… said that Mhynt was safe, and she would be home soon!” His smile was wide. Too wide. He was nervous.

“…To which town?”

“Eh… there are two?”

Wishkeeper couldn’t see Mhynt’s glare, but Gabite looked like he was staring at Yveltal herself.

“…It was nice meeting you, Owen,” Mhynt said, turning her head. “Perhaps we’ll meet again sometime.”

“Sure.” He grinned, and Mhynt flinched. “Oh, uh, something wrong?”

“You have a big smile.”

“Well, I have a big body.”

She opened her mouth, but was stopped by a small giggle. Then a sigh, and she ushered him along. Everyone else in the room looked completely dumbfounded and Wishkeeper didn’t know why.

<><><>​

Year 984

Energy leaves collided with an ethereal spear. Wishkeeper snarled and pushed as hard as he could, beating his wings to knock her off her feet. But her claws were firmly in the dirt and her stance was unshakable, even with his weight thrown around. But she, too, was large.

“Something wrong?” Mhynt whispered, leaning into her advance. Wishkeeper’s hands were trembling.

“Not at all,” he grunted back, finding the strength to push her back. She kicked off of his gut at just the right moment, gaining several feet of ground before jumping off of a tree behind her. She collided with him again and Wishkeeper held a Protect shield out to parry, conjuring another javelin of light as a follow-up.

He pointed at Mhynt’s chin, but before he could declare a technical victory, the Sceptile weaved around the javelin and swung her blade at his neck. In turn, Wishkeeper conjured a small Protect directly in her path, parrying the blow. Flicking his wrist, he used the javelin’s side to pin Mhynt against the tree behind her.

“Ugh!” Mhynt tried to push against Wishkeeper, but he had gravity on his side, too. Owen pressed harder, immobilizing her shoulders.

“Give up?” Wishkeeper taunted.

Mhynt puffed again, going for one last push against the radiant javelin. Her own Leaf Blade was glowing with the same light and sparks licked at both their cheeks.

With one last roar, she pushed just enough to get some ground. Wishkeeper’s eyes widened, but he couldn’t react in time and was suddenly toppling backwards. Mhynt had gone too far and fell on top of him next, piling on and losing her stance. They both lost their focus and the radiance around their conjured weapons vanished instantly.

Wishkeeper was breathing hard. That had taken a lot out of him, and it wasn’t often that Mhynt was able to overpower him, even with the agreement to not abuse his elemental advantage. Mhynt was still on top of him and he couldn’t find a good way to get up without giving free hits to his opponent.

“Alright,” Wishkeeper grunted. “You win this one. Gonna get off me?”

She breathed with him, body still tense like she was ready to fight. But then, she relaxed, though she still did not rise. “Maybe I don’t want to.”

“Ng—” Wishkeeper gulped, feeling his scales get hotter. Mhynt was… very close to his face. “What for?”

“Maybe I like being on top.”

“I thought you preferred being under my wings.”

“Depends on the mood.”

Wishkeeper’s tail flicked against the dirt, sending little embers into the air. “I must be a soft place to rest.”

“Your scales feel pretty hard right now.”

“I am pretty solid.”

She leaned closer, then pressed her snout under his neck.

“I… actually can’t get up,” Mhynt admitted. “Why don’t we stay like this for a while?”

“That worn out,” Wishkeeper remarked, “after just one round?”

“You came at me with everything you had that time,” Mhynt said. “I felt like I had to reciprocate.”

Wishkeeper sighed, bringing his neck back until the top of his head was on the ground. “I’m done, too. Exhausted. At least we’re finished at the same time.”

She practically sank into him. Wishkeeper’s wings crawled over her back in a warm embrace.

“…So…”

Mhynt abruptly rolled off of Wishkeeper at the sound of the new voice, rising to see Marshadow standing awkwardly with Azelf floating nearby. Azelf seemed bothered by something for an instant, but then smirked at Wishkeeper and Mhynt.

“M-Marshadow,” Mhynt said quickly, crossing her legs. Her shoulders were still slumped; she was quite weak. Wishkeeper, meanwhile, mentally chided himself for not sensing him coming. Had he been so exhausted he couldn’t even…

“Hi, Marsh,” Wishkeeper said, not sitting up. The world was upside-down. “Looking for Jirachi?”

“Nah. Just here to send a message from Necrozma.”

“He couldn’t send it himself?” Wishkeeper said, his scaly brow rising to the earth.

Marshadow shrugged. “He said that if y’want, Mhynt oughta consider climbing Destiny Tower.”

Wishkeeper squinted. “What?”

“Guess there’s an open position.”

“It’s been centuries. How? Did—” Wishkeeper suddenly tried to sit up, fighting the dizziness that came. “Did Arceus… actually, uh, descend someone?”

“Nah, nah, nah.” Marshadow held up his hands. “We’d’ve heard about that. Dunno. Guess there’s need fer one. Maybe Groudon, finally, eh? Make the world bigger fer once.”

“We’d need a Kyogre, too,” Wishkeeper said.

“Well, regardless, I don’t intend to for some time,” Mhynt said, holding Wishkeeper’s hand. “Perhaps later. Much later.”

Wishkeeper glanced at Mhynt, tilting his head. “Why?”

“I think I’d like to spend more time with you,” Mhynt said.

“Being a Legend doesn’t usually change that. Look at me and Jirachi.”

Mhynt’s eyes narrowed the smallest amount. “Perhaps more quality time together.”

“Like sleeping together?” Wishkeeper said. “We do that all the time.”

Azelf, who had been quiet, looked like he’d just seen a Mimikyu’s true form.

“Owen…” Mhynt’s squint became even narrower. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

“Doing what on purpose?”

“Jeez’m.” Marshadow shook his head, shrugging. “You really know how ter pick’m, Mhynt. You sure that’s a life yer lookin’ fer?”

“It’s been years. I think it’s time I made my decision.” Mhynt nodded. “Owen. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

“Yeah, I do,” Wishkeeper replied, nodding sagely. “It’s alright. I’ll teach you everything you need to know if you want to ascend.”

“No, that—”

Wishkeeper’s wings wrapped around Mhynt, pulling her close. Firm. She was silenced instantly, eyes wide as they stared into his.

“We’ll need to spend a lot of time together, though.”

She blinked, staring at him.

“Think you’re alright with that?” He leaned forward and gave her a lick, then a nibble, and then a little growl.

For once, and only once, she was spellbound.

<><><>​

Year 996

Wishkeeper and Mhynt had a single egg together, which hatched into a healthy baby girl. A Treecko, though her tail had a tinge of autumn scales to match Wishkeeper’s fiery orange. She was a little feral, wanting to fight mere days after hatching, and Wishkeeper humored her by letting her battle his claw and little else. He knew not to use his flames against her, and Mhynt didn’t seem at all worried until she started trying to wrestle with his tail.

His flame was ethereal, but if he was surprised, it could get hot like a real fire. But perhaps she had a little Fire in her anyway, because she lacked the instinct to fear it, and Wishkeeper was positive that even when she was burned, it bothered her little.

Years passed like days. Remi grew up from a delicate Treecko to a plucky fighter who wanted nothing more than to follow in her parents’ footsteps. Perhaps not work with the gods, but at least work for the people. Before Wishkeeper and Mhynt knew it, Remi was a Grovyle, training every day to fight and keep the peace of the ever-evolving world.

And just as quickly, Mhynt seemed to notice the first signs of her own aging. Unlike Wishkeeper, whose kind took long to waste away and burn, Mhynt’s kind showed signs early. It was, in some ways, convenient; the minor blemishes did not impede her, and showed experience to other Pokémon in ways that Wishkeeper could not. Her scales were a little darker, her leaves wilting faster with each cold season.

But that was the time Mhynt had agreed to make her ascent before that age caught up to her.

“You got this, Mom!” Remi cheered, standing with remarkable balance atop Wishkeeper’s head. The Grovyle did a flip off of Wishkeeper, falling thirteen feet to the ground and landing with grace. She did a few slashes in the air with a Leaf Blade, imitating Mhynt’s style with a more reckless flair that she’d developed.

Destiny Tower loomed ahead of them, with Mhynt standing at its entrance. She smiled at Wishkeeper, looking fully confident that she’d make it. And Wishkeeper knew she would, too.

That’s why he felt so nervous.

“GOOD LUCK!” Remi said, waving as she finally passed through the entrance, disappearing. “How long do you think she’s gonna take, Dad? A day? Two? The record was two days, right? She’ll do it in one.”

Wishkeeper forced himself to laugh, if only so she could be reassured. “I don’t know about a day, but after all this time and all this training? She’ll give the… record holders something to worry about.”

He stared for a while longer, flame crackling behind him as he ruminated over it all. The free slot a thousand years into the land’s age was suspicious, but what reason did Necrozma have to lie to them? Maybe it really was just a coincidence.

“Dad?” Remi tapped him on the forehead while sitting between his horns. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Wishkeeper nodded. “Let’s… go home for now.”

Remi shrugged and kicked off of Wishkeeper’s back. She twisted in the air, falling slowly, as transparent wings briefly formed around her back, resembling his own. With a brief updraft, she slashed at a branch, then slashed twice more to dice the wood, before landing gracefully on the ground.

“Let’s train when we go home!” she proposed. “I wanna practice Aerial Ace again!”

“Are you sure you aren’t already a master at it?” Wishkeeper glanced at the chopped wood. Remi pointed at the severed portion of the tree while her other hand touched the trunk. In seconds, the branch regrew.

“Maybe,” she said, “but I wanna get even better!” She conjured a prismatic Magical Leaf like pulling a card from a sleeve and tossed it at the branch again, expertly severing an apple from the leaves.

Wishkeeper caught it. “Well, sure,” he relented. Perhaps it would distract them both.

<><><>​

“I’m going to be sick.”

“Personally, I think it’s adorable.”

Please…

I didn’t shirk my travel duties, but… yeah. I spent a lot of time with her. Maybe it was luck, or something, but, you know. When I had mentioned it to you, I figured you’d say that I should focus on my duties, and I guess I would have been fine with that, but instead…

“Instead, I suggested you see her more, yes… I did.”

Why?

“Well…”

Why, when right after that, you were going to…


“Perhaps that is precisely why. He was guilty.”

“Yes… to an extent. I no longer feared you making a family despite your reincarnation cycle because… this was going to be your last. For everyone. And I owed it to you at least that you could make a family in the end.”



“I’m sorry, Owen.”

It’s over with.


“He doesn’t accept your apology.”

Diyem…

“I understand. But I am sorry regardless. I understand that you have many happy memories of developing your relationship with Mhynt.”

I did.


“He doesn’t feel very happy about them now.”

Diyem… Don’t broadcast my feelings.

“I see. Very well.”

“Perhaps we should continue to after Mhynt became Lunala. Is that okay, Owen?”

Yeah. We’re getting close.


<><><>​

Year 998

It was, in a way, a second honeymoon. Mhynt was now Lunala, and while she occasionally returned to her Sceptile form as a means to blend in like several other Legends did, her new sense of duty drew her back to that new, immortal form. What thrilled Remi the most, of course, were her wings.

They’d gone on evening flights, morning flights, even flights at noon, at least one flight a day. Even though she could have done so all the time with Wishkeeper, it was different when both of her parents were able to accompany her so easily. Now there were two pairs of wings in the sky, rather than just Wishkeeper’s and Mhynt on his back.

She bragged about it at first at school, because of course kids would. They were quick to tell her not to, as not only was this sort of arrangement unprecedented, but she would only endanger herself should less noble, perhaps stupid people catch wind of it. Being Wishkeeper’s child was notoriety enough—but the child of someone who ascended? Unheard of.

That thought bothered Wishkeeper at night. Why, after almost a thousand years, did Necrozma and the other gods relax their policy? It had been, for a fleeting fifteen years, almost relaxing to no longer have that lingering sense of obligation to ascend. Really, Owen had almost considered broaching the subject of retiring to Jirachi. Wishkeeper did not have perfectly clear memories of all his lives, but it was starting to feel like a lot. A staggering amount that he could no longer fathom.

He never had the heart to, though. And Wishkeeper wondered if he’d forgotten about all the other times he’d been on the fence about it.

But then he had Remi, at Necrozma’s approval. Was that his hint that perhaps he could remove his spirit fragment from the Reincarnation Machine? That he could become mortal, and there would be no hard feelings over it?

“Owen,” hummed Lunala, pulling him a little closer. “You have such a serious face.”

“Sorry,” Wishkeeper murmured, but he forgot to follow it up with a smile, or anything, really.

“What’s bothering you?”

“Well, just… Why do you think Necrozma let us have Remi?”

“That’s an odd way to phrase it.” Lunala loosened and shifted upward until she was in something like a sitting position. It was hard to tell with the new body, which still, admittedly, was not something Wishkeeper was used to. “I feel like we could have done just what we wanted.”

“It’s… a thing to do with ascent. Necrozma always wanted me to because I fit all the qualifications, or something. Never did. Maybe he thinks it’s some kind of challenge.” Wishkeeper sighed, leaning into her chest as he thought. “But now I think he’s finally accepted that maybe I just wanted to be mortal. Instead of all the reincarnation stuff…”

“Why did you, then?” Lunala asked, adjusting so her wings went behind Wishkeeper. He reciprocated, curling up. This night, he was the one being wrapped up.

“I don’t really know anymore,” Wishkeeper admitted. “It just… was something I decided to do. And kept deciding once the cycle started. It wasn’t really so bad. I liked being around everyone. They were my friends.” And while he didn’t like to mention it often, he’d thought of a few of them as something more, but had never asked it of them. Then, once ascent happened to each of them over time, it was no longer an option. They had become bonded instead to their duty.

It was a relief that Lunala hadn’t changed in that way, even if she still preferred the new form.

“I… I’m sorry if that isn’t what you wanted to hear,” Wishkeeper said. “I don’t know. I’ve been feeling strange lately. Having Remi, and you, it’s… it’s been different. Like… loosening something from the bottom of a lake, or something. Everything is moving again. It feels like these fifteen years have been more than I’d lived for the past centuries. I—I know it’s because it’s different, so that’s why I see it that way, but. It’s better, too.”

As Wishkeeper spoke, Lunala gently ran part of her wing over his head, stroking him. That always relaxed Wishkeeper, and he leaned a little more against her.

“You should do what you want, Owen.” She nodded. “I appreciate what you’re doing. But it will be okay… I’m sure of it.”

“That obvious, was it?” Wishkeeper smiled sadly, keeping his eyes closed as he focused on their breathing.

“You know,” Lunala said, and Wishkeeper could hear the grin in her voice, “it still isn’t too late.”

“Too late…” Wishkeeper opened one eye.

“You can still become Solgaleo. We’re meant to be pairs. Lunala and Solgaleo… We can still be the same, just like we are now.”

The thought only filled him with more conflict as he shifted his weight. “Maybe,” he dismissed. “But I’m… I’m tired for now. We can talk about it later.”

She nuzzled his cheek. “Okay. Good night.”

“Night. Love you.”

She nipped his cheek, and they settled again.

But in the end, Wishkeeper was never the one to bring it up.

<><><>​

Year 999

With an ethereal clang, sharpened blades of Grass energy slammed into a golden Protect. Wishkeeper pushed forward a little harder than he normally would, and the Grovyle he sparred against yelped in surprise, her back slamming into and then through a tree, leaving a Remi-shaped hole where she’d hit.

“Oww, no fair!” Remi complained, having left a gash in the dirt behind the tree. She sat up, looking dizzy, as she pointed at the tree. Her hand glowed with energy as the trunk sealed itself up, slowly.

“Err, too hard?” Wishkeeper said, tittering.

“I’m not Mom, you know! Parry like a normal Pokémon!”

“Eheh…” Wishkeeper dispelled his Protect and rubbed the back of his head. “Well, I guess I—” He abruptly spun around and conjured another shield, narrowly blocking a stab to his side. Another Grovyle was right there, eyes wide. “Nice try,” he whispered.

The other Grovyle disappeared in a puff of golden smoke.

“Oh, come on!” the real Remi complained. “That was perfect!”

“Maybe,” Wishkeeper said, “but I guess I got lucky.” Or he knew her tricks. Still, that was one of her best Substitutes yet, and so young, too… She had talent. His chest swelled with pride.

She kicked a little more before finally settling down. Wishkeeper silently noted her movements; she was worn out.

“How about we take a break?” he offered. “I’m feeling a little tired after that.”

“Fine, fine,” she said with a dismissive wave. “What’s for lunch?”

Lunala was off on some mission, leaving Wishkeeper with Remi again, as was the norm most of the time. It was, once again, a nice change of pace to spend most of his time at home. He and Remi enjoyed a small prepared lunch of rice and meats, apparently a bento from recovered cultural projects. Something about it felt familiar, but Wishkeeper ignored the feeling. It was probably from some faded life in his many reincarnations.

Remi seemed a little tenser than usual. She wanted to say something, but Wishkeeper waited patiently. She finally broached the subject when there was only a little rice left in their ceramic platters.

“Mom told me something kinda cool yesterday.”

But despite her words, there was hesitance in her tone.

“Cool?” he asked. It was also an odd descriptor. “What d’you mean?”

“Do you know what Cosmog is?” she asked.

It was like all the air in the clearing had been sucked out. A chill ran down his spine and he suddenly knew precisely where every beat of the conversation would go. He hoped Remi did not see his darkening mood in his expression.

Thankfully, she was looking at her near-finished lunch. “It’s a rare sort of Pokémon that’s considered ascended but not fully formed. A Legend that can evolve. Usually, the ones that are female become Lunala, and the ones that are male become Solgaleo. In that way, there can be more than one. They’re like guardians of the stars, of light itself. Guardians of the spirit.”

“Yeah, that’s correct, Remi,” Wishkeeper said in as even a tone as he could. “How come she told you about all that, anyway? It’s not really important to, you know, daily life. It’d just distract you from school.”

Remi smiled a little. “Well, it’s because she wanted me to climb the tower a little early.”

“Oh.” His mask slipped just then and he quickly amended, “That’s great! I mean, if that’s what you want, and—”

“Dad, why did you never ascend? Mom says you could any time you wanted. So, you don’t want to…”

This was more of a corner than Remi had ever put him in battle.

“Do you want to become… Cosmog?” Wishkeeper asked.

But then, suddenly, Wishkeeper sensed Lunala’s presence and glanced above him. Moments later, the light around the clouds warped oddly, and Lunala burst out from seemingly nowhere, like a pool of water in thin air. She descended quickly, fanning out her wings to slow her descent.

“Back early,” Lunala replied, pecking Wishkeeper on the cheek. “How was lunch?”

“Just finished,” Wishkeeper said, nipping at Lunala’s wing before nodding at Remi.

Remi, however, had gone quiet, and was now looking at the ground.

“Remi?” Lunala asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, um.” She hesitated. “It’s about… Cosmog.”

“Oh, of course. Have you come to a decision?”

“A bit of a rush, don’t you think?” Wishkeeper asked Lunala warily.

“I—I don’t think I want to,” Remi said quickly. “Dad didn’t ascend because he wanted a family. And… and I want one, too.”

Wishkeeper blinked, but then glanced at Lunala just in time to see the smallest hint of a scowl on her face. It was faint, and gone in an instant, but he’d seen it. That image chilled him to his core.

“Oh,” Lunala said, “well, that’s… fine. I understand, Remi… And you’re still quite young anyway. It isn’t as if there is a rush for it.”

“Yeah. Sorry, Mom…”

“No, don’t be sorry. It’s your decision. Climbing Destiny Tower halfheartedly will surely result in being rejected.” She nodded.

She leaned down and rubbed her on the head, and Remi smiled a little, looking relieved.

But Wishkeeper couldn’t forget that look in Lunala’s eyes. It was still there like a cold lump of ice in his chest. Like all of his quiet fears had been confirmed just then, for an instant, a little seed of doubt. That he was no longer with Mhynt. That it was “Lunala,” and nobody else.

No. No, that wasn’t true. It was still Mhynt, just like Jirachi was still Tim, or… everyone else who’d ascended but him.

They were still themselves.

<><><>​

“Owen… They truly were themselves.”

I don’t want to talk about that right now.


“When they ascend, they are not the same. Their minds are altered to handle their longer lifespans, and to have tendencies related to their duties. You would not simply place a mortal spirit into the duties of a god and expect them to perform as they would. In the end, even gods have… instincts.”

“Indeed. And so, the decisions they made were… with their duties in mind, but not without their memories as well, and—”

Can we just move on?

“…Of course, Owen. Let us move on to… the decision I made, when I called Jirachi and you to Destiny Tower.”


<><><>​

Year 1000

“I’m not doing that.” Jirachi shook his head. “It goes against my very duties. Did Arceus approve of this? I bet he didn’t.”

“Arceus is not the authority here,” Necrozma said firmly, his light reflecting off of the countless gems in the cobalt caverns of Star Cave. “You know as well as I do that there is an instability in this world, and we can’t find it. Before something even worse than death happens, we need to end it.”

“Why can’t we find it?”

“Finding it is not so easy. If we weren’t aware of it when it was created, it simply isn’t… something to detect. It’s better just to end the world entirely. We’ve gone on for long enough. The world has gone on for long enough. I fulfilled my promise to Arceus and Mew. It has been a thousand years. Civilizations have risen and fallen, leaderships transferred, kingdoms made and lost…”

They continued to bicker. Meanwhile, Wishkeeper stood in awe. He had gone through so many reincarnation cycles that he was not clear how long it had truly been. Each cycle, he forgot swaths of his past, and when he recovered them, they were hazy and blurred together. He did not have a mind that could withstand long, long stretches of time the way Jirachi had been blessed with one. His mind was simply unable to hold it all together. When Necrozma and Jirachi got into these talks, he often tuned it out.

This time, though, he held his attention. He tried to follow every term thrown out. He eventually caught on when Jirachi made another proposal.

“I’m not ending it. The world needs time. It’s… I don’t want to just end it where the sun won’t rise again tomorrow.”

“It will have to stop eventually. And then all can be at rest and all can be still. This was an inevitability. Only when it is upon you do you object?”

“Yes?!” Jirachi said. “I thought you’d come around, not actually follow through! How many zeroes are in the number of lives at stake here?! You’re just going to take everyone here, store them up in your… prism of death body, and that’s it?”

“That is where all life goes in death, yes. They will die, but they will no longer suffer after. They will be still. At rest. I could ask the same thing if you wish to plunge these souls into a chaotic world when the instability prevails.”

“And how instantly will that happen, huh? Will we see it coming?”

“It could happen in a matter of years as soon as we see the first true signs. If that happens, it must be ended immediately.”

Jirachi shifted his weight, looking conflicted. Wishkeeper understood some of it. Jirachi’s duty was to protect the world, and sometimes the greater good meant sacrifices. Some wishes had downsides, but for a greater end. But this was taking it a step too far, wasn’t it? Killing everything to save it from a worse fate? A fate they did not even fully understand?

“Is there another way to… quietly let everyone wrap things up?” Jirachi asked. “That’s what I want.”

“A way for the world to end without killing everyone,” Necrozma repeated. “Well. I suppose one way to go about that would be… taking advantage of the mortality of the world. If no new lives are born, eventually the current lives will be all that’s left. Then, nothing. A quiet end…”

Necrozma had come up with that too quickly. Had he predicted this?

But Jirachi was buying it. “That might be okay,” he said, apprehensive.

“Okay?” Wishkeeper protested. “But that would still—”

“Owen, I… I’m sorry. But I do still need to protect people here. And this seems like a good solution. You don’t understand, Owen, we can feel that instability growing. I don’t want to kill people. But preventing new people from being born might be okay. If it gets too large, it might become something that has its own domain. And if it does, we can’t fight it or dispel it. It might take over. It might even hold spirits hostage within itself. Then what?”

“There is already a risk of that happening. But… this will minimize that risk. I’ll revise my wish, then. My wish… is for no new souls to be born within Quartz. No children. All eggs formed now will be the last generation. And then, as the population dwindles, it will be our responsibility as gods to guide everyone in their final years. It will be our payment to them.”

A noble way, Wishkeeper thought bitterly, for them to pretty up the fact that they were about to make a whole era suffer. He thought about Remi. If he’d delayed, he never would have had her. She never would have existed.

But Wishkeeper felt unheard. No matter what he said, this was a decision for the gods to make, not him. And perhaps even if he’d chosen to become Solgaleo, or Reshiram like Brandon had, there was nothing he could do. It was not his domain.

Wishkeeper gave Jirachi one last, pleading look. But as silver lights began to encircle Jirachi’s head, and as the whole cave lit up with silver and blue, Wishkeeper knew that it was too late.

“Wish granted,” Jirachi whispered. And with the power of Necrozma and Jirachi combined, a great pulse of light escaped from Star Cave and sank deep, deep into the earth. Unshakably, the wish had been granted. And now, the only way to undo it would be with an equal power.

In that solemn silence, as the lights blinded them all, Wishkeeper whispered for only himself to hear. He kept away from the one he’d once looked up to so much. He turned away from the one he’d been with all his lives.

He had Jirachi’s power, too. And Star Cave was still resonating.

For the first time, Wishkeeper decided to slip in a wish for himself. It was forbidden. He didn’t know if it would work. But that didn’t matter anymore.

I wish I could find this instability myself.

<><><>​

“So that’s what you did…”

I don’t think it actually worked. I don’t think granting my own wishes is possible. Maybe it was from Jirachi, and we felt the same wish? That could have been it…

“Or perhaps it was my own. Perhaps all three of us wished there was another way.”

Sure. But… Diyem. Do you remember any of that?


“I only know that, not long after that wish was made… we met in a dream during your travels. When you were spreading the news about what had happened, along with so many other Legends.”

“This is where, for now, my part of the story ends, Owen. I was not aware of much of what you had been doing in the interim. I will explain what happened, but… go on, Diyem. Now it is your turn.”

“…I’m not going to enjoy this.”

I thought you were waiting for this?

“I was. Now I’m regretting it. Whatever. Let’s begin.”

<><><>​

Year 1003

Wishkeeper often dreamed. It had become an acquired skill, being able to dream lucidly like the gods often did. They used it to communicate with one another at night. Rayquaza and Dialga often doted over each other; Kyurem had even found a way to communicate with Ire; but Wishkeeper didn’t feel like playing with Tim tonight. In fact, he felt as if he didn’t have a choice. He wasn’t in his usual corner of the mind. He felt distant. Elsewhere. And… cold.

“Hello?” Wishkeeper called. “Who’s there?”

He heard no words, only a horrible, cold wave of dust that buffeted him. He winced and pulled his wings over his head. His flame flickered against that haze.

“Is anyone there?” he called again.

Another haze, but this time he saw something faintly red beyond it. In the otherwise void-like surroundings, it was the only thing he could walk toward.

“I’m here to help!” Wishkeeper called blindly. It felt like his voice didn’t carry past a few feet ahead of him, so he roared louder. “I DON’T WANT TO HURT YOU!”

The winds continued, but they slowed. He eventually dared to open his wings. His flame was stable. And, in front of him, there was a great, red sphere. Wishkeeper felt like it was staring back at him.

“I—”

Wishkeeper had tried to reach forward, but then it roared back in a noise irreplicable by anything mortal. A scream that was more like glass grinding against stone and metal. It blasted him away at speeds that felt like hundreds of feet in a second.

He woke up with a start.

“Owen?” someone whispered.

“Wh-what?” Wishkeeper sat up, panting. His flame was bright; it must have woken her up. And it was humming loudly, too. He glanced worriedly around him, hoping that latent battleheart didn’t set anything alight, too. No burns, thankfully.

“I’m okay,” he said. “Just had a startling dream. That’s all.”

Crescent wings draped over him in a nuzzle. Wishkeeper leaned into them, but he couldn’t feel that same warmth in his chest when they touched.

“It’s going to be okay, hun.”

They sounded genuine from her, but felt empty to him. Wishkeeper’s eyes trailed across their room. It was a small and simple abode with oversized furniture to compensate for Wishkeeper’s size. It dwarfed Remi, who had been sleeping across the hall soundly. The little Grovyle hadn’t stirred. Remi… What would become of her?

“It’s for the greater good,” Lunala said, correctly guessing his thoughts. “I’m really sorry, Owen…”

He didn’t want to fight her on this. Not her. Not when he could either find a different solution or let it happen. In neither case did they need to fight about it.

“Are you okay?” Lunala asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He leaned against her, appreciating the cool, smooth touch her wings provided. He tried to remind himself that it was her. “…Love you, Mhynt.”

She always humored him, even though she no longer acknowledged the name. “Love you too, Owen.”

He drifted off again. Perhaps, when he had a better grasp of what he’d seen in his dreams, he would be able to tell her more.

Somehow, Wishkeeper knew he never would.

<><><>​

…Don’t feel sick this time, Diyem?

“No, the heartbreak evens it out.”

“Mhynt didn’t so much as read your mind with how much she trusted you.”

I don’t want to think about that…

“You must. It is likely why she felt so betrayed when you learned more about Diyem. Night after night, you tried talking to him. For how long?”

Years. It was a slow, slow process. I usually could only get a word in, but eventually, he answered, and… we talked. The same way Anam talked with you, I bet.


“And you told someone else before you told Mhynt, didn’t you?”

“What?”

I… I don’t…


“He could not trust his own mate. And Jirachi was all the same, loyal to Arceus. But there was a single other that you trusted. And in a moment of weakness…”

That was the start… of when I took more drastic actions. When I started betraying everyone’s trust. I remember, now…

<><><>​

Year 1004

Wishkeeper parried another Psychic blast, sensing it from the distortions in the air rather than the energy itself. Sensing the air was difficult, but such dramatic changes made it easier.

Ahead of him was Azelf, a larger target compared to Mesprit and Uxie thanks to Necrozma’s blessings, but that meant little when he moved around so swiftly.

“Better get ready!” Azelf telegraphed, forming a Psychic blast for Wishkeeper to quickly deflect. With a flick of his claws, flames erupted from below and Azelf yelped in surprise. Moments later, he spiraled to the ground, looking only slightly singed, but that had been the wager.

“Gah, no fair!” Azelf flailed on the ground before going limp. “Feh… got lucky.”

“At some point, my luck is going to be a pattern,” Wishkeeper taunted, sitting next to him. The tremor knocked Azelf off balance the moment he tried to sit up.

“Yeh did that one on purpose,” he growled.

Wishkeeper shrugged innocently.

With a flick of his wrist, Wishkeeper drew out from seemingly nowhere two boxed lunches, sliding the smaller one to Azelf.

“Eh?” Azelf tilted his head. “Usually Lunala drops one off fer yeh so it’s fresher.”

“Oh, I made one myself this time. Lunala’s been busy.”

“Mmeh…” Azelf narrowed his eyes.

The silence felt more tense than usual. Azelf could probably tell, couldn’t he?

“So… still arguin’ about…” Azelf trailed off.

It was such an awkward subject to explore, but… “Yes,” Wishkeeper said with a sigh. “I… I still haven’t told Remi. I don’t know what to tell her. And… if I tell her, and she ascends, would that be… tossing her life away anyway?”

“Tossin’ it away? Ain’t it gonna make ‘er immortal? Well… not like it’ll matter…”

Wishkeeper paused. Not like it would matter…

“…Why… did Mhynt ascend?”

Azelf tilted his head.

Wishkeeper groaned. “Lunala.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Hey, wait! Yer right? If the world’s endin’, why’d he go an’ have her show up? An’ then offer fer Remi ter ascend next… oi, that don’t make sense at all!”

A new seed of doubt began to form, wondering what Necrozma’s ulterior motives were for that. Was it all to attract him into his fold? But why?

“Owen,” Azelf said, breaking Owen’s concentration. “Jus’ tell me what’s up. We’re a team. Yeah?”

They were. And… Wishkeeper couldn’t sense anything strange from Azelf, either. Not that he would delve deeper. Maybe he could trust him with this, just once…

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” Owen said.

“What about Mesprit ‘n Uxie?”

He hesitated. More people to know, more chances for the secret to spill. But if he told Azelf to keep quiet… No. Uxie would tell; she was too smart. And Mesprit would sense the emotional distress.

“Fine, you can tell them, too,” Wishkeeper said. “Listen, I… I spoke with it. The instability.”

Azelf’s eyes widened a little, but he didn’t interrupt. He urged him, silently, to continue.

“I think we can save this world, if we just save him, too.”

<><><>​

I was eventually able to get words from you. And I gave you my name. And eventually, we figured out what you were. The instability. A poor little… entity that was born from… Y-yes. I remember now. You were the fear and doubt… that Star had when she created the world. And the hatred and betrayal that Barky felt. Those stray thoughts… became you! And… I proposed trying to convince all three gods to help you, and you weren’t sure. I wasn’t sure, either. So instead, we tried to fight and rally for undoing the apocalypse. There were already resistances forming for it, even if there was no real way to stop it… Not without power.

“Power I had.”

“There was a turning point eventually, wasn’t there? Tell us about that.”

<><><>​

Year 1007

“Hey. I’m here,” Wishkeeper called routinely, flicking his tail across the landscape to form a simple, nighttime hillside. The instability, who refused a name of any kind, preferred the night. Sometimes Wishkeeper had a feeling he also did not like his flame or his golden spirit, but there was little he could do about either.

“Today… hurt less…”

“That’s good.”

“Good?”

He winced. Right, he couldn’t feel that. He didn’t know that. Wishkeeper sighed. “Sorry. Anyway, I heard that there’s a lot of outrage over… uh, you know, and that it’s still growing, but that’s not going to amount to anything. Even if they try to scale it, or destroy it, or anything. It isn’t even an actual tower. It’s just a gateway to the ethereal plane… Destroying it won’t do much. If we want to stop this, we have to convince them that you’re safe.”

“I’m… not. They hate me… They want me gone…”

“If they find you, you’ll—”

“No. No. No.”

“Okay, okay!” Wishkeeper held up his hands. The quickly churning winds slowed.

It had been a decade. He was getting older. And if he wasn’t going to go through a reincarnation cycle, he would actually die. He’d return to Necrozma. And then… Necrozma would be able to see all of his memories. He’d be helpless. All that knowledge… Necrozma would destroy the instability, and then the world next.

It just wasn’t fair. He couldn’t trust Necrozma anymore, but it was getting dicey, always evading the subject with Necrozma. Thank goodness he assumed it was only because he was unhappy with the circumstances.

“…I agree,” the instability said. “You’re out of time soon. If you die…”

“You heard all that, huh?” Wishkeeper sighed. “Yeah… I’m getting old again. It’s starting to catch up to me. It’s hard for me to do the things I used to, but only a little. But I really am out of ideas, and I think I’m getting complacent.”

“If you reveal me… I’ll die. But not if…”

“Not if… they can’t kill you. If you’re strong enough to subdue them, right? Then we can work together to fix you instead.”

“Fix… me…”

“Sorry. You aren’t… broken. But we can help you stop feeling pain, right? And you won’t die. Nobody has to die. There will be a lot to repair, but it’s not all gone. But…” That just led to one uncomfortable question. “My power is a gift from Necrozma, and he’s pretty adamant about… you know. And he’s not the only god here. He seems to have, you know, the most sway. How are we supposed to convince all three? Or to any of them?”

“…I… have power, too.”

“What do you mean?” Wishkeeper asked. “You have…”

A dark haze drifted toward Wishkeeper and he held out his hand on reflex, like the instability was reaching toward him again. A rare thing.

“Take this…”

<><><>​

That very night, Wishkeeper woke up because he thought he’d heard sobbing. He opened his eyes, but did not move from his spot. He listened quietly, only to hear Lunala soothing Remi with kind words and gentle nothings.

“Remi, it’s okay,” she said softly.

It was a strange sense of normalcy to be comforting their daughter over something so mundane—a breakup. Such things happened. But the backdrop reawakened that cold pit in Wishkeeper’s stomach all the same.

She had moved back in after sending word, and Wishkeeper and Lunala gave her no shame over it. It would be nice to spend time with her during the end-times, after all. They’d been there to support her, and he figured she was still heartbroken. But when he listened longer…

“Remi, it’s… just how things are. How it was meant to be,” Lunala said softly.

“I wanted a family,” Remi sobbed.

An awkward, tense silence broken only by her sniffles followed. Wishkeeper tried his best to suppress the popping of his flames.

“He wanted a family, a-and… and because nobody can anymore, he… c-couldn’t take it and… just left me…”

“Remi, no, it really isn’t your fault… I’m sure it’s not that clear cut.”

“Everyone’s scared, Mom. I… I’m scared. Is it all just going to end? Is the world really… emptying out? I don’t… I don’t want that!”

“Remi…” They shuffled. Wishkeeper could sense how much Remi was trembling, all that frustration and pain, while Lunala only pulled her close for a hug. Wishkeeper didn’t know if Lunala truly cared or not, or if she was just echoing her dutiful statements as part of Necrozma’s goals. None of her words felt real anymore. Wishkeeper wondered if Remi felt the same.

As they continued to talk, Wishkeeper finally came to a decision. A dramatic one. And he had a strange feeling that if he lost his resolve now… he may never get the chance again.

When the time came, and he found the opportunity to slip away… he would start the fight against Necrozma. He would reverse the wish and save the world. And the first step to doing that… was defeating him any way he could.

Perhaps this “instability” they feared so badly would be the answer.

<><><>​

It was another lunch out while Lunala left for her usual duties, some of which Wishkeeper still did not fully understand. The Charizard and Grovyle spent another afternoon out as father and daughter.

But Wishkeeper felt tenser than usual, the night several days ago weighing heavily on his mind.

“Dad?” Remi asked.

“Oh, uh—hi. Yeah. It’s good as usual, Remi. Your mother cooked it herself.”

“I thought you cooked this one?” Remi asked. “You use different spices.”

“Oh.” Right. He had.

An awkward silence followed. Wishkeeper took a few extra bites.

“Are you going to fight Necrozma?” Remi asked.

A cold chill ran down the back of his head, like his horns were being gripped by ice. “What?” he mumbled. “I—no, that’s…”

“…Are you going to convince him to stop destroying the world?”

“He’s not… destroying it, he’s… just not letting new Pokémon be born. It’s… different. It’s different.”

The Grovyle’s frown deepened, and she curled her claws around her sandwich, prodding at the soft bread beneath the hard crust.

“Are you going away?” Remi asked.

“Remi, what’s this all—”

“Please just tell me,” Remi said. “I’m not a kid anymore, Dad. Just… just tell me.”

Any number of things could have clued her in. She was too perceptive for her own good. Probably took after him. And he knew, without having to check, that she wasn’t doing this to deceive him. She simply wouldn’t.

She was looking down, unable to maintain any sort of eye contact. “Are you going to fight Mom?”

“Remi…” His wings struggled to stay folded by his side. They wanted to droop. But he had to keep a strong face in front of her. Otherwise… everything was going to collapse. Her whole world would.

But wasn’t the world already…?

“You have a plan, don’t you?” Remi asked. “You’re going to go against everyone just to save the world. Because you refused to become a Legend. You’re… fighting for mortals because all the strongest aren’t. Except for you.”

“I never… saw it that way. I just…”

The bread in her claws crunched quietly. “I… I don’t know what to do, Dad. I don’t know who’s right. Mom… says everything would be fine. B-but I’m scared to ascend. Why didn’t you?”

He didn’t have an answer for her. All of his words had left his mind. Listening to her was all he had left.

“I don’t know what to do, but… but you need to stick to it. Okay? If you and Mom are on opposite sides, then… then maybe it’ll work out. Maybe the right side will win and everything will be okay. Right? You can fix it, right? Dad?”

To this, too, he had no answer. He was still stuck on how she’d figured this all out. So clever… Had it not been such a dire subject, he would have been filled with pride. But now all he could feel was a bitter lump in his gut.

“Go,” Remi whispered.

“What?”

“Go now. Mom’s got a long day. She told me. Just… go now. Whatever plan you have. B-but… but promise me—”

She paused and he didn’t interrupt. She was shaking, trembling.

“Promise me you won’t kill anybody.”

A summer breeze kicked up loose blades of grass. Wishkeeper breathed with the wind, unfolding his wings; his natural warmth carried on to Remi, and he draped them over her.

“Of course,” he said. “I promise.”

<><><>​

“Not long after that, when agreeing to use my power fully, you told me Remi’s wish. I did not understand it… but those were your conditions. You were adamant. So, I had no choice but to comply. I knew you did not make allegiances and did not force you there, either. I never felt any deception from you, or distrust. I eventually learned that it was because you were not truly native to this world… and that Necrozma’s blessings further masked your feelings. But at the time, I had no reason to doubt you.”

And I used that power as a way to catch Necrozma by surprise. Or, that was the plan… Necrozma. How come you didn’t just try to attack me immediately? The moment you knew, for example, that I… betrayed you?

“I simply didn’t know until it was too late. And once I learned… Mew and Arceus were not fully onboard with ending the world. I think, in a way, my forcefulness on the matter discouraged them. They wanted this world to remain. I
tried to overrule them, then convince them, but…”

“I played my part as well.”

“Oh?”

“Doubt is a powerful emotion to anchor myself. I sensed the gods’ doubt and amplified it subtly. It was one of the powers I learned I had over the world, along with other destabilizing abilities.”

“Destabilizing abilities… ways to cause chaos?”

“In a sense. Curses with the power I had acquired. Rifts in the fabric of the world. Not quite Dungeons, but distortions that, if done right, could have drawn out the gods for me to strike on my own. None worked, though. Most of them were… aimless. I did not know what I was doing.”

“…Manny’s assignments. He often thwarted you. Him and his team, while the rest of the pantheon maintained the world’s turn.”

“Indeed. Like I said… a true thorn in my side.”

Manny…

“He tried to play both sides, in a way. But I appreciated that of him.”

I remember. He kept trying to challenge me with his resurrected team, but I beat him. Sent him away, and once he saw that I knew mercy, well… He sent word to meet me one on one.


“Obviously, you were stronger. You took the offer.”

<><><>

Year 1018

Wishkeeper walked, alone, up a large hill with a note in his hand. It was extra-large paper, of course, which meant whoever had sent it certainly had him specifically in mind. The big print was a nice touch.

He’d brought backup. Hiding away and watching from afar with farsighted Pokémon were Uxie, Mesprit, and Azelf, his closest allies during this struggle. But Wishkeeper honored this one request to meet alone with someone of similar strength. Weaker, but better able to flee.

Even this had been calculated. Wishkeeper wasn’t sure what they wanted to accomplish out of it this time, and he could not sense anything in the immediate area that was a trap. Only Marshadow standing at the top, and a large board game next to him, already folded out and set up.

“Hey, y’made it,” Marshadow greeted, smirking. “Got yer favorite.”

“You’re no good at chess.”

“T’keep it fair, you get five seconds fer yer move, an’ I c’n take all the time I want.”

“Sounds unfair for you,” Wishkeeper mocked once he was on the opposite side of the board, slowly taking a seat. Marshadow did the same. “You first, then.”

“Heh.” Marshadow moved a center pawn forward two spaces.

Within a second, Wishkeeper mirrored the move. “So,” he said, “you wanted this talk for…”

“Just talkin’ similarities,” Marshadow said.

“Between us,” Wishkeeper clarified.

“Yeh.” He moved another piece, and Wishkeeper responded instantly. Marshadow smirked, murmuring a curse. “Y’see,” he went on, not making his next move yet, “we both were put in our positions ter save th’ world.”

“I put myself in that position,” Wishkeeper clarified, “but yes.”

Marshadow nodded. “So we both have an interest in savin’ the world.”

“Yet you’re siding with the person who intends to put an end to this world.” Wishkeeper stared hard at Marshadow as his next move was made, using yet another pawn. Wishkeeper moved aggressively, countering with a knight’s advance. “Necrozma intends to destroy the world and take all of the spirits for himself. The prism of death, where we shall go until the end of everything.”

“So dramatic,” Marshadow chided, sighing. “Death is death. All he’s doin’ is holdin’ onter our souls ‘til it’s time fer whatever comes after, all at once. Won’t even feel like a second ter us.” Marshadow raised a hand before Wishkeeper could protest. “I know, that ain’t the point. Since it’s the world yer worried about. New life, yer home, not yer self. If it meant savin’ the world, you’d choose death, too, eh?”

“I would,” Wishkeeper said. “I’ve lived long enough. If I could guarantee this world’s safety in exchange for my overdue life, I would give it up instantly.”

“Heh. I believe ya.” Marshadow moved yet another pawn, and Wishkeeper touched his knight, but then froze. Too aggressive. He wanted to capture the pawn on reflex, but that would…

“Once yeh touch a piece, y’can’t let go. That’s the rule, ain’t it?”

Wishkeeper growled and took a more conservative movement, just outside the pawn’s range.

“Good save, good save.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“Lighten up!” Marshadow laughed, raising both hands again. “Look, I know yer workin’ fer someone with spooky Shadow powers, but this ain’t you, all that intensity. Where’s that light in yer eyes, eh? Those cute feral chirps yeh always make.”

He hated those. But what he hated more was how intensely he listened to what Marshadow was saying, if only so he could find a way to deny it.

But he couldn’t find a way to do it.

“It’s difficult to be lighthearted in the face of oblivion,” Wishkeeper said.

“Heh. Nah. That ain’t it.” Marshadow shook his head. “You were ready ter face ‘oblivion’ a thousand years ago. All this seriousness… is b’cause yer friends’re all on the opposite side, now. Yer mate. Yer kid. An’ all yer mentors.”

“I have Azelf and the others,” Wishkeeper said. “He’s… he’s been wonderful to me ever since I left Mhynt.”

Marshadow tilted his head.

“Lunala.”

“Right, right. So y’two hit it off, eh?”

“Apparently, he’s felt that way for a long time, but wanted to respect Mhynt. And before then, of course, he was duty-bound. Now that he’s rejected Necrozma’s rule… he is not bound the same way you are.”

“Hah!” Marshadow shook a finger at Wishkeeper. “Y’ferget that Star summoned me.”

“…Star. Right. Mew.”

“An’ she’s a real free spirit. She believes in th’world, too, y’know.”

Marshadow made his move. Wishkeeper countered it with a proper capture this time, and Marshadow sighed, as if he’d expected to miss something.

“You know I can’t give up now,” Wishkeeper said. “I need to save this world and… the one person who needs saving the most.”

“The instability,” Marshadow clarified with a nod.

Nothing was said for a full minute as Marshadow stared at the board, making two moves that Wishkeeper responded to within his five-second limit.

“My goal was ter save this world from little gaps that the gods missed,” Marshadow said. “Blind spots. The story was that without a full pantheon, there would be things that the world just… messed up on. That as more gods came about, fewer of those blips would happen. Turns out, that was a mistake, y’know.”

“It was the instability itself you were plugging the holes of,” Wishkeeper stated.

“Yeppers.” Marshadow moved the piece forward again, taking on an aggressive strategy. Wishkeeper parried it with a bishop blocking one pawn’s path, enroute to capture another. “Yer convinced he c’n be helped?”

“Yes. But not with my power. He needs… Necrozma’s power. And Arceus, and Mew. All three of them need to band together and rewrite his reality. It’s the only way.”

“Every reality has a god,” Marshadow said. “A single spirit, many spirits, er maybe even the spirit o’ the world itself an’ its laws an’ rules… But here, it’s the Hands, eh? The thousand Hands used ter make it. That’s this reality’s god.”

“And we need every single one to work towards the goal of saving him,” Wishkeeper said with a nod. “I know for sure that Mew and Arceus, if I asked, would agree, if it meant saving this world.”

“And it’s Necrozma yer convinced is ready ter zap the place an’ call it a day.”

“He’s said as much directly to me… And I know, now, that that’s why he was so persistent in having me ascend. His favored pupil. He wanted me to be happy doing it, so even when the world was gone, I’d go with him. So he let me have a mate, a child, and would have them ascend just like me.” The temperature on the hillside rose. “He dictated every aspect of my life and only let me live because he thought he could have me after. I was just a toy to him. I wonder how many others he’d once had like me, only to discard and absorb their spirits like everything else.” A sick grin that showed his teeth plastered over Wishkeeper’s face. “Quartz is nothing but a nuisance to him. He’d never save it.”

“Then what’re you gonna do?” Marshadow asked, moving his queen out of the back row.

Wishkeeper blinked, not sure what that meant. Quickly, he made another move, hasty, and left a few pieces open for capture, like a strategic buffet for his opponent. He muttered a curse.

Marshadow continued, “Say you climb Destiny Tower, win over the hearts o’ the two gods other’n Necrozma. What’re you gonna do ter get Necrozma on yer side?”

“…If he doesn’t listen… then we will take away his divine power with the help of the other two. Have him scatter his power some other way.”

“Not give it to you?” Marshadow asked, raising a fiery brow curiously.

“I’ve spent all this time saying I don’t want to become a god,” Wishkeeper said. “Why would I decide to become one now?”

“Makin’ decisions for the whole world sounds pretty godly ter me,” Marshadow said.

“This is different.” As Marshadow made his move, Wishkeeper countered instantly. “I’m not deciding for the world. I’m stopping them from deciding against the world’s wishes.”

“Neutralizin’ a decision, then. Contrarian, fer their sake. That it?”

“I guess that’s a way to phrase it.”

“Yer gonna ask Necrozma ter scatter his power. Force it, if you gotta. That’s yer goal?”

“At least then, the world can keep existing.”

“What’ll yeh do with Necrozma after?”

“Well… then he’ll be free to go to whatever other worlds he has. His domain in those realities wouldn’t be affected, right? We’d just take away the power he has in this reality.”

Marshadow shrugged. “Dunno how that works. Maybe.” He made another move.

And Wishkeeper countered again. “Check.”

“Gahh.” Marshadow’s eyes darted about to see the issue. “Well, alright. I guess I get yer perspective.”

“And what will you do?” Wishkeeper asked. “If you win. Die? Let the world end?”

“Gonna appeal ter recreate it. Maybe give this instability a new life. One where he ain’t in pain.”

Wishkeeper snorted. “Any way to ensure that?”

“Nah… Guess not. Just trust.” He made one more move, saving his king. “Guess that’s where we’re different. I don’t blame ya.”

“Right.” Wishkeeper snorted, a few embers escaping his nostrils as he placed his piece down decisively. “Checkmate.”

“Eh?!” Marshadow leaned forward this time, incredulous. He murmured a few curses and then said, “Yeh actually beat me.” And then accented it with another string of defeated mutters.

Wishkeeper started placing the pieces back in a nearby case, figuring their talk was over.

Marshadow helped. “Well, y’know, here’s my proposal. If y’win, I’m gonna be right there with you. Fight Necrozma, I won’t interfere. What happens, happens.”

This… surprised him. Perhaps Mew was even more fast and loose with allegiances than he’d expected, for Marshadow to even be able to utter such things without intense feelings of dread.

“That scatter idea, maybe it’ll be a win fer everyone. Necrozma sure seems ready ter move on, but we ain’t interested, yeah?”

“I guess not,” Wishkeeper said.

“Heh. Then it’s a deal.” He held out a tiny hand. “Good luck, Owen.”

Wishkeeper didn’t want to bother with looking into Marshadow’s past. He was too keen. But his Perceive, of his body, told him everything he figured he’d need to know. Marshadow felt… genuine.

He brought a single claw forward—the most Marshadow could grasp—and returned the shake.

“And good luck to you, too, then. Manny.”

“Heh. So that’s my name.” Marshadow stepped back, case folded and under his arm. “Maybe I’ll get ter use it more someday.”

<><><>​

“Quite a hero of his own story, isn’t he?”

I feel like you aren’t telling me everything, still. That’s all I know about Manny.

“Admittedly, Manny’s status is more… Star’s jurisdiction. Always having someone personally on the ground to carry out little duties.”

Little duties like keeping the world from ripping apart.

“Minor rips, but, I suppose, phrasing it that way…”


“Moving on. Owen… We should talk about your war effort.”

War. It was a war, wasn’t it?

“I suppose, in a way, it was. And you were their tactician, their commander. And every commander… has their generals.”

No, I… that can’t—


“Breathe.”

He couldn’t have been…

<><><>​

Year 1015

“That’s the fifth time you’ve sent Remi back home, you know,” Mesprit said. “She really just wants to be with you…”

“I know, I know.” Wishkeeper sighed, rubbing his forehead. “No matter how much we reinforce the place, she somehow gets through it every time. How does she even manage to do that?!”

“Well, she is your daughter,” Mesprit replied.

Wishkeeper again rubbed his face, then turned to the main conference room. Several Pokémon were shuffling in and out, placing papers on tables for other Pokémon to read over. A few of them gave nervous glances at Wishkeeper, who only nodded formally and respectfully toward them in response.

He had been intense lately. Trying to get others to relax around him was a personal goal of his for morale, though being thirteen feet tall made that difficult.

“Another report from the Gamma Squadron,” hummed an Inteleon, sliding a few papers forward.

“Mm, thank you,” Wishkeeper rumbled, picking it up to read it over. He had to delicately pick it up with two claws, holding it in front of him like a stiff tissue, but he could still read it well enough.

They were glowing reports of incredible forward progress, capturing a few strongholds without much resistance. It seemed like some of the most strategic locations that he’d entrusted Gamma Squadron to handle were all controlled by their army, now. Perfect. He’d surely assign him to another batch, then. A few more of those and they’d be able to storm Destiny Tower directly. Even if Necrozma had gone against his own system to resurrect Marshadow’s old team to combat him, they wouldn’t stand a chance against an entire army trained in the ways Necrozma had taught him.

He also knew that Lunala and Remi would also be leading that charge, and a pang of hesitation washed over him. No. No, he had to. He would push them aside, save the world, and… come what may after, at least he’d accomplished that for their own good.

For everyone’s good.

There he is,” Wishkeeper said with a wide grin.

“Hm?” called the leader of Gamma Squadron—his top general, now, a Hydreigon named Alexander.

“Alexander! This way, right here.” He gestured for him to enter the main conference room. “I just read the report. Another stronghold captured. And they just surrendered?”

“Oh, of course.” Alexander grinned, but it twisted into a smirk. “They knew strength when they saw it. Whatever resistance they attempted was short-lived.”

Wishkeeper nodded, taking a seat for the time being in one of the custom-oversized chairs meant for him. “You’ll need to tell me about it,” he said. “I know some of my strategies are restrictive, so working around some of them…”

“It only takes some creativity,” Alexander replied with an even wider smile, but there was something in the back of Wishkeeper’s mind telling him to keep asking questions.

His instincts were telling him something was wrong.

“How many new forces did we get from this?” Wishkeeper asked, the thought coming to him suddenly. And after he posed the question, he thought back to the reports that came back to him. The captured areas usually had Pokémon that fled, and surprisingly few new recruits. Usually, a campaign to save the world after telling them the truth got at least a few new recruits each time with his methods, but Alexander’s were…

“Not very many,” Alexander replied leisurely, shrugging as his smaller heads frowned. The Hydreigon drifted listlessly toward the far side of the room, where a few ceramic cups with water were, and he took a drink with the left head while speaking. “I suppose I’m just too intimidating. I will work on being more presentable, Commander.”

Wishkeeper glanced at the Inteleon suddenly. The quick gesture made him almost imperceptibly flinch.

Which didn’t make sense. His sudden, feral gesture would have gotten an odd look, but the Inteleon was unmoved. He was hiding something.

“What do you usually witness, Inteleon?” Wishkeeper asked.

“What’s this questioning about?” Alexander asked, frowning as he went for another cup. “You send me to the most difficult strongholds of Necrozma’s forces. Of course they’ll be the least likely to turn. What of it?”

It was logical but his instincts were screaming that he was lying. Was he getting paranoid? Did he ever send Mesprit, Azelf, or Uxie with Alexander to do these kinds of checks? No. He’d always been the special forces; the Legends couldn’t bear to face the leads of the divine army directly. They would be weak to Arceus’ influence in particular if they got too close. They were under his domain, after all.

Wishkeeper didn’t want to ask the question. But he had to. “Alexander,” he said, “how have you been capturing strongholds?”

“I follow your procedures exactly,” Alexander said. “I’m—”

“Recite them.”

He stopped drinking. “What?”

“Recite your procedure. You’ve done them a few times, haven’t you?”

Wishkeeper took slow, deliberate steps toward the unmoving Hydreigon. Pride was in his eyes, refusing to back away even as the gap between them closed.

Then, he flashed his eyes. Alexander resisted; he couldn’t read into what Alexander had done. He was aware of it, and he resisted?

“Excuse me, Commander,” Alexander snarled, “but my mind is private, and I’d appreciate not violating that.”

“Your past is written to the world,” Wishkeeper said lowly. “I don’t read minds. I read your past.”

“My past is for the eyes that saw it, not yours.”

“How many of them did you kill?”

“None. That is against your policy.”

“Are you lying to me, Hydreigon?”

“I can’t lie to you.”

“You’re right. You can’t.”

Because he could see the tense body structure on his person. He was lying. Hiding something.

Wishkeeper turned his eyes to Inteleon, who had been slipping out of the room. Unaware. Wishkeeper’s eyes flashed—

Blue fire knocked his head an inch to the right. Alexander glared at him, “What are you doing?”

But Wishkeeper had seen a flash from that Inteleon’s past. A single image from only a day ago. It was an intense feeling of admiration as Alexander pressed two Divine soldiers—one a Staraptor, another a Tauros—into the ground. There was blood in Alexander’s mouth, and it wasn’t his, the way he had a manic grin on all three of his mouths.

Everything had gone still. That was his top general. The one he’d sent on the most important missions to capture strategic areas. To ensure their forces would not run out of supplies, and the Divine army wouldn’t completely overtake their disadvantaged position. He was winning because of Alexander.

“…Your tactics are soft, Commander,” Alexander said slowly.

Everyone else in the room, by now, knew something was wrong. Tens of eyes were watching this exchange, and several tens more listening outside. It was like the whole encampment had gone deadly silent, and Alexander was projecting his voice to be heard.

“Had it not been for my maneuvers, this entire movement would have been lost from the outset. I only did it as a last resort. To secure the victory when peace and diplomacy failed us. Your priorities—”

“Then why were you smiling?” Wishkeeper asked, an ancient, feral growl accenting every single syllable.

Alexander hesitated, and in those eyes Wishkeeper saw someone calculating the perfect response. That mask of composure had slipped, and Wishkeeper saw Alexander for what he’d become on the battlefield.

He saw red. The next thing Wishkeeper knew, white, radiant light and black, cold shadows curled around his arm and coalesced into a black-white spear. Alexander’s eyes widened with panic, but that was all he could do before the spear pierced his chest, pinning him to the wall. Blood sizzled against the spear and dripped from his mouth.

The spear went deeper and Alexander let out a gurgling wail. The spear twisted and the wail became a bloody yowl.

He held it there, listening to the sound of his blood cooking against the spear. A horrible, sick satisfaction at the gesture coursed through Wishkeeper, and that made him dispel it. He couldn’t let that overtake him.

“We are here to save the world,” Wishkeeper said, “not pillage it. We are saviors, not conquerors. If you are going to go against that vision, as my subordinate… and then try to hide it from me… I will purge you from this world myself, so that even Necrozma won’t find your spirit.”

Snapping his claws, three spears of shadow and light appeared above Alexander. Two of them pierced the smaller heads straight through; the third grazed his snout and pierced the ground in front of him. He could only wordlessly stare, unable to breathe.

“Never show your face here again,” Wishkeeper snarled. He then looked at all of the others, including the Inteleon, frozen with a mixture of fear and silent understanding.

Nearby, there was an Audino trying not to be seen. When Wishkeeper met her eyes, she yipped and looked down.

He softened his gaze. “Heal him, please.”

Without another word, Wishkeeper dispelled the spears and returned to his papers.

<><><>

Alexander… was my general. And after that promise I made to Marshadow, I let him command an army to…

“He was very effective, you know. Your idyllic approach to war… Do you think you would have won?”

But that wasn’t the point! If we won that way, what would be left of… What would that mean for what we saved? If we can even call it saving anymore…

“Hmph. Despite all your years, you do not know what war truly means.”

“Mm. Well, in any case, Owen… I understand this all must be very hard for you. But, these next memories… may be difficult for you as well. Perhaps the most difficult. How your part in the war… ended.”

Why are you saying that now?

“Just remember how things are now. Things are different.”

That’s not foreboding at all.

“Can you promise me this, Owen? Something that happened after you fully defected and left Mhynt behind. After Alexander’s exile. After the word of what he had done, under your orders but without your knowledge, spread to us. After the meeting, and the promise that if you won, perhaps a compromise would be made. After all of that, the final thing I did?”


“…Speak carefully, Necrozma. I’m suddenly getting a lot of stress from Owen.”

Just talk.

“I… reached out to your allies who I sensed disagreed with what happened. That things were not going in the trajectory they wished, with word of what happened with Alexander—and others in your army, they thought—and what they did on the field. I gave them… a solution, and a compromise.”


<><><>​

Year 1019

Wishkeeper did not need much to rally an entire, loosely associated army to save the world. By now, the youngest Pokémon in the world were fifteen years old. Wishkeeper himself was in his sixtieth year in his current reincarnation cycle, and his flame was stable but waning. He was far past his prime. But through divine and dark power, he was far stronger than any other mortal, and with little effort behind it.

He wasn’t alone. A few friends were with him during those dark years. Azelf, Mesprit, and Uxie were all with him, and Azelf most of all, by his side when Mhynt no longer was.

“That should be everything,” Wishkeeper said with a sigh, beating his wings. “Azelf?”

“Yeh.” It was a short reply and not as enthusiastic. Odd, coming from him.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeh, jus’ a little nervous.” The larger sprite glanced away, still not making eye contact with Wishkeeper. Was he having second thoughts?

“If you don’t want to do this, I’d… understand. I have to. But you don’t.”

“Y’ain’t usin’ that mind reading thing, are yeh?”

Wishkeeper smiled sadly, but it did hurt. “No,” he said. “I can’t ‘mind read’ for Legends. But I wouldn’t want to anyway. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

Azelf’s eyes trailed all around him. The war room. All that planning, battle maps depicting Destiny Tower’s surroundings, the way to ascend the floors when the gods truly didn’t want them to rise, where Necrozma would be, where perhaps even Star and Arceus would be able to help. Every possible plan, and all hidden from Necrozma thanks to the instability’s dark power.

They weren’t going to kill them. They were only going to prove their worth. The right for the world to continue.

“Y’ain’t gonna be mad if I…”

“Azelf…” Wishkeeper reached out and held the back of the small sprite’s head. Even with the increased size that came from working so directly with Necrozma, Azelf was simply so much smaller than him. He pulled him close until he pressed into his chest. Azelf closed his eyes, and so did Wishkeeper.

“We won’t kill anyone. That isn’t the goal. We only want to save the one person who truly needs saving. Okay?”

“It ain’t gonna work, though,” Azelf said. “This… the instability. It’s jus’ evil. Ain’t it?”

“It doesn’t have to be that way. We just need to change things.”

“…Just call it off,” Azelf said. “They’ll listen. Jus’… call it off, and maybe we c’n talk things through instead.”

“Azelf?”

“Call it off. Ferget the fight. This… ain’t right. World’s already two decades inter th’ end. It’s goin’ just as we wanted, and… it’s all a huge risk. I don’t wanna send folks ter some bad place when its time is up ter begin with. None o’ this is natural, an’…”

“Who put you up to this?” Wishkeeper asked, a little more seriously this time.

Azelf clammed up. There was fear in his eyes that Wishkeeper hadn’t seen before. Azelf was never like this. Did Necrozma put him up to this? Was Azelf being threatened? Wishkeeper’s gaze hardened even more, and he was about to speak—harshly, this time, to snap Azelf out of it—when the blue sprite spoke first.

“You changed, Owen.”

He blinked. “I… I what?”

“This ain’t you.”

More stunned silence, a cold feeling running down his spine and through his forehead. Azelf was still not looking at him. And then, suddenly, his flame dimmed to half its size and he staggered back.

“A-Azelf, what just…”

Azelf was holding something in his hands. It looked like a little blue light. It had a small string tied to Wishkeeper’s chest.

“I ain’t gonna… let this happen. Yer sidin’ with evil, and I just wanna save you. So… I’m gonna take this fer a little while. I’m takin’ away yer will ter fight.”

“My… will.” Wishkeeper felt like he should have been mad. Furious. He was being betrayed, and Azelf was misguided about it. He wanted to fight to get it back. But any time he tried, the thought floated away from him and slipped through his weakly grasping fingers. Azelf, the being of willpower, the ultimate rallying force… took his will away. His resolve. He couldn’t find the energy.

“Good job, Azelf.”

A cold voice sounded in Wishkeeper’s mind. From the entrance to the war room was another sprite, this one with a yellow head and closed eyes, Uxie. She was half Azelf’s size. Another one was just behind her, completing the set, Mesprit, the same size.

“Owen, we’ve weighed all of our options. I thought about this a lot. And the more we look into what this instability is, the clearer that it is an inherent blight to the world, down to its core. To defeat it, the world itself has to be destroyed. What happens after is up to Necrozma and the other upper gods. Mew and Arceus both want us to persist. If we surrender and the world is destroyed, there is nothing stopping them from recreating the world properly, without the instability.”

“But I want to save him,” Wishkeeper said, barely a murmur as he leaned against the wall, staring at that blue sphere in Azelf’s hands. “Please, give it back. I need to do this…” His words felt empty. It terrified him. And he still couldn’t find that fire to battle.

“Mesprit, it’s your turn now,” Uxie said.

“Owen, I’m… I’m really sorry. Don’t be afraid, okay? When it’s all over, you’ll wake up like nothing happened. The world will be restored, the instability will be gone, and… that’ll be the end of it. I know it’s not fair, but… we have to save everyone, Owen! It’s our duty! You may not be bound in the same way, but we need to. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

“You’re just being controlled,” Wishkeeper whispered.

“Are you really going to try to save one person by risking the entire world?” Uxie’s frown was thin but present. “Your compassion is blinding you. This creature, this thing in the world’s very fabric, is only made of malice and evil, and must be removed. It is a disease that cannot be cured. The best thing to do is stop everything now, and try again without it. That is the compromise Necrozma proposed to us.”

“He never even had a chance,” Wishkeeper said. “That’s not fair to him.”

“I do not think we are in a position to do what is fair anymore, Owen. Mesprit, do it.” Her brow furrowed, and Wishkeeper sensed a hint of reluctance. But not enough to rescind the command.

Another cold feeling washed over Wishkeeper, but this time he felt… fine. That terror was gone, along with the despair and foreboding. There was a warm, red sphere in Mesprit’s hands. Another part of Wishkeeper’s spirit? He didn’t know what was taken away, but he didn’t feel scared about it. Did that mean it was okay?

“Owen, you have spent a thousand years training and learning how to fight and defend and save others. While the gods had other duties to perform, your duty was general protection itself. You are the instability’s greatest tactician. And with the instability fighting without you, we will surely win.”

There was a long pause as Azelf and Mesprit stared at Uxie. Her hands tightened. She had to take something away next, didn’t she?

Images flashed in Wishkeeper’s mind as a cold feeling ran through his head again. He saw a Mew, smiling and doing flips in the air—and then it was gone, and he didn’t remember it anymore. He saw a Trapinch, a Bayleef, and an Axew, and then it was gone. He saw so many other Legends, but those faded next. A rapid and blurry reel of memories evaporated in front of him, and he didn’t feel a thing. And then, he saw a Sceptile, and that turned into a Lunala, and that was gone, too.

He saw another, younger Sceptile, smiling. Bruised and burned, but smiling after a great time training.

Uxie looked strained, trying to pull.

Wishkeeper saw a Grovyle, crying in her room because of the news she’d been told. He patted her on the back, and he felt a foreign sensation that made his chest tight and his flame swell. He didn’t remember what that was. Mesprit had that in his hands, after all.

Uxie furrowed her brows, pulling harder, but Wishkeeper didn’t let go, even as Azelf held that blue ember in his hands.

Then there was a tiny Treecko looking up at him with wide, curious eyes. So small that her whole hand couldn’t fully grasp his claw.

“I’m…” Uxie spoke without her mind this time. Her voice was soft and stumbling. She always needed telepathy to speak. But perhaps she was entirely focused on her task that she couldn’t. “I’m s… s… sorry.”

There was a yellow sphere in Uxie’s hands.

All of the memories went away.

<><><>​

“That’s what happened. Afterward, you were—”

Get out.

“Owen?”

Get… get out. I need…


“He needs time, Necrozma. We’ve said enough for now, and you’re fading anyway.”

“But there’s a lot more that I need to—”

To justify? For having them rewrite everything about me? After the promise Manny made… Were you the one who sent them? Coerced them?

“Owen, it’s as Mispy said. I had a whole world’s souls to consider, versus just one… mistake. And—”

I don’t want to hear another word from you. Leave.

“You wanted all of your memories, didn’t you? I—”

Then maybe I’ll get them back myself!

“Then at least allow me to unseal the rest so—”

I SAID GO!

“…Very well. I do not blame you. I should have expected this. I will return later, if you allow it. Goodbye.”



“…Does that extend to me as well?”

I’m tired, Diyem. But… no. You can stay.

“Mm.”



“It’s… good to have you back, Owen.”

I remember… one last thing.

“You do?”

Yeah. Can I talk about it?

“Go ahead.”

<><><>​

Everything had become a blur. Hazy memories of wandering around, being guided somewhere. He followed, passive. He occasionally said something, and they replied, and then there was a great darkness. He wasn’t able to see. Then a sharp feeling in his chest, and then… nothing.

“H-hello? Hello? Owen?”

Whose voice was that? It seemed familiar, somehow. Or maybe it was just the tone they gave off.

He wasn’t sure how he wound up there, but he was standing inside of a strange, glass tube, feeling heavy and wet. A green fluid was at his feet, draining into the sides of the glass chamber. Struggling to climb into the chamber from the ground was another Charmander whose body seemed to ripple beneath the surface, as if it could barely hold its form.

“Owen?” the Charmander said again.

Who was he talking to?

The Charmander grabbed him by the arm. That startled him and he tugged away, blinking.

“Do you remember me? It’s… it’s me,” he said. “It’s…” He looked like he was having trouble recalling his own name.

Behind the Charmander was an Alakazam writing down something in a notepad. “I’m not seeing a reaction at all, but it is certainly his spirit, Ditto,” he said, humming. “Can you speak?”

Eye contact. He understood that. The strange blob was talking to him. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Do you remember your name?”

The nameless Charmander frowned, pensive. He shook his head, not particularly alarmed by this. He simply didn’t know his name. Was that bad?

“Your name is Owen,” Alakazam said. “I’m afraid we both do not know our names, either. I’m sure with enough research we will rediscover them. Do you have any recollection of your efforts in a recent war?”

Owen stared blankly at Alakazam.

“Unfortunate. We were hoping for answers.” He sighed. “Never fear. Ditto?”

“Owen, do you remember me, at least? I… I know. If I go to my true form, you’ll recognize me! H-ha… One second.” Charmander focused, relaxed, and… melted.

That startled Owen enough that he took a step back.

“Ah, ah. It’s quite alright,” Alakazam said, raising a finger.

A pink blob… thing was staring back at him, now. Dots for eyes and a thin, hopeful smile. “Well? Owen?”

“How do you remember my name?” Owen asked.

“Well, that’s what this sign says.” He pointed at a label next to his tank. “I feel like that must be right. And Rhys, he had a journal. So that must be his name. It seemed right to him, too.”

“You know, I could always make a permutation of all possible letter combinations,” Alakazam suggested. “Eventually we will find a match.”

Ditto didn’t seem to be listening. “Does Owen sound like the right name? I know it is. It must.”

“I think so.” Owen nodded. Yes, Owen. He answered to ‘Owen’ a lot.

“Something terrible happened recently,” Alakazam said. “I’m afraid we don’t know the answers. But with some research and this lab, once I rediscover its capabilities, perhaps we will be able to rebuild. It isn’t a very pretty world on the surface, however. Perhaps we should take some time to recover.”

Ditto nodded, but then turned his head to other chambers. Owen followed his gaze and saw other Pokémon floating in chambers just like his. Eyes widening, he clumsily stepped closer, squinting for a better look. The bodies seemed to still be developing. He could see their transparent skin and internals. It was fascinating. He tilted his head, curious, wondering who they were. Who they would become. There were golden spheres above each one, draining into the forming bodies, and when Owen looked up at his own, he noticed that it was an empty sphere instead.

“Well! Let’s go, Owen. We won’t remember anything just standing around!” Alakazam clapped. “My first goal will be to find out why all of my research has been erased…”

As he talked to himself, he walked down the hall, the rest of his mumbling impossible to make out.

Ditto sighed, looking at Owen again. He tried to smile. His body twisted again, becoming a Charmander, feebly. That was still a little unnerving. But… it was nice, in a way.

“You may not remember anything, but… A-and I’m not really sure why I’m saying this, but…”

He smiled, partly desperate, partly relieved.

“It’s… good to have you back, Owen.”

End of Act III
 
Top Bottom