Chapter 54: Day 19, Part 4 – Only Dance Remains
"Cosmo! Cosmo, did you hear me? Cosmooooo!"
Ba-thump.
"Cosmo, this isn't funny! It's not…heroic to do this!"
Ba-thump.
"Cosmo, come out here
right now!"
Ba-thump.
Ba-thump.
Ba-thump.
Nothing. Not a word.
The campsite was silent aside from a stale wind whistling an empty tune. The dirt was orange, almost red, and there were large hills in the distance full of crumbling rocks struggling to poke up at the withering clouds. There were trees, too—all starved with thin branches and leaves like raisins planted through nature's ire. The dryness broke cracks into my lips, while a mild post-summer warmth made my whiskers shrivel into scrap wood.
An empty bucket fell over onto its side. A blanket collected dirt as a keepsake.
I couldn't tell what made me sweat more: the desert or what the desert took from me.
Panic surged within.
"COSMO!" I tried again. Nothing. "Cosmo, where are you…?!" Still nothing. I was going to call out again had my heart not exploded in retaliation behind my ears.
Ba-thump.
BA-THUMP.
BA-THUMP.
The world was spinning.
Yet no matter how much it spun, there was nothing. Cosmo was nowhere to be found.
I swore under my breath. How long were we even talking? Five minutes? No longer than ten, surely. It couldn't have been longer than that. Shouldn't have been.
There was no way that our lives could have been changed for the worst a second time just this afternoon in less than ten minutes each. No. Fucking. Way.
"COSMOOOOOOO!"
I had to think. Some creep must have been hiding when we showed up. Yeah, that had to be it! He took Cosmo and I just had to find him. Easy to solve.
If I believed that then I wouldn't have turned over tarps and hollered around corners. Nobody was here.
Cosmo wasn't here.
Don't do this, I pleaded.
Not to him. Not now.
I didn't bother to check if they ran, implying there was anything to check
for. Doubts pumped in my stomach, flushing to my face. My arms weighed as heavy as dumbbells slung to my shoulders.
If I had just…I could have…
Out of the corner of my eye, a fierce beast sprinted on all fours in my direction, skidding to a stop just a few feet from me. The sun dragged its fingers across the dirt, leaving it singed. Charred black, seared red, no dry patch of grass was spared in his path of destruction. Spots formed in my vision from the sheer brightness of it, of him. Looking head-on revealed the beast for what it really was: Fenn.
He was unrecognizable in my daze. I was ashamed to admit that it scared me to see him like that right then.
"O-Oswald!" Fenn cried out. He was panting in rhythm with his raging, flaming mohawk, as fur spiked in abject horror. "D-did you find him? C-C-Cosmo?"
It took me a moment to collect myself. Fenn was tracking someone else, after all. I was there to help him. But regrettably, I shook my head. "I…I can't find him," I spoke hoarsely. "I don't know where he went. We were only talking for-"
I didn't dare finish what I was saying. Fenn was already dashing off, and I had no reason to slow him down.
The Quilava's hunt was quieter than mine and marked by a smeared abstraction of white and bright orange. Watching him scour the entire campsite in seconds filled me with a whole new type of guilt. He was always going to be faster than me. There were never any doubts about that.
I clenched my fists at my sides. What a worthless piece of…no. No, there was no time for that. I needed to think.
Put your back into it, Oswald. What was he like before you blew up earlier? Why would he wander off? Who saw him last-
"Finch!" I blurted out.
As if on cue, I noticed the Krokorok speed-walking from where Fenn came from, each step heavy enough to leave deep indents in the dirt.
Normally, Finch had this unspoken swagger to his step. A sway of the tail accentuated by effortless claw movements, enhanced further by the sharpness of his tongue. One could assume he never walked in a straight line considering how his feet weaved under him. Yet somehow, he managed, oftentimes approaching others as though he were feinting blows meant to harm him.
Here, though, he was walking directly into danger, and his footwork reflected that. I had never seen the croc so hyper focused. His black eyes, too, and his stiffened tail, told me that he wanted to set the record straight as swiftly as possible.
"Look, before you say anything," Finch growled, snapping his fingers, "I never told the kid to wander off like this."
That wasn't good enough. I furrowed my brow, one paw instantly shooting to my scalchop. "Then what
did you tell him?" It was meant to be a simple question. It sounded more like a threat.
Finch took the darkness in my accusation and flung it back at me.
"To
wait," he said. "So he could wait for us. For you."
I didn't have time for this. Neither of us did.
I stomped my foot, kicking up a small plume of dust in the process. "Finch, that makes no sense. If Cosmo was told to wait, he would have waited."
A low hiss escaped the croc.
"You fuckin' knew about this?" he questioned.
My scowl deepened. "Knew about what?"
"That kid is real quick to follow directions. Ever notice that?"
Of course I did. I was almost offended that he assumed I hadn't.
"What does that have to do with anything?" I asked back, one claw pulling at my scarf. The edges of the cloth were becoming damp with sweat. Eugh. "I just want to know where Cosmo went."
Finch took a step closer, one finger pointed at my chest.
"This isn't my fault, Ozzy. Honest to Darkrai, I didn't do it this time."
Who gives a shit who's fault it is! Why is he assuming I'm blaming him?
I turned my torso, affixing him with a deep frown. "I don't need this from you right now, Finch," I said.
Finch opened his mouth to speak, but got cut off before any words could come out.
"Hey!"
A bit away from us, Fenn stood on all-fours, his fire overpowering his slim blue fur. Two deadly red eyes regarded us with one part disdain and another part horror. His back legs seemed longer and more agile than they ever had before. I had to second guess what I was seeing; Fenn hadn't looked this fierce since the last time we traversed a dungeon together.
"B-both of you, come on!" he snarled. "I found s-something! I-I think I know where he went."
I blinked. Not relieved just yet, I stammered, "Wha- you do?"
Finch arched his back. "Where?"
Instead of answering, Fenn turned away from us and towards the rocky outcrop. The one I had been unconsciously avoiding, even after making my final choice.
"I'll s-show you," he uttered, then dashed past. Right towards the cave.
Lingering as the spots faded from my vision, I couldn't help but grit my teeth in anxiety. I didn't like where this was going.
Finch and I ran after him without another word. From there, it didn't take long to figure out what Fenn meant. Even in my half-debilitated state, I could have noted that the campsite was completely bereft of life. This included the cave entrance. There were only traces, hints.
All of this to say, well.
The dead body was new.
A large pile of grey and blue leather laid in a heap, dried and shriveled limbs flattened below wounded dirt. Flesh thick as stone and sunbaked emitting a stench ripe with death, I was half convinced this was some pile of garbage at first. It was the distinctive crown of a Rampardos, shaped like a helmet of blue plastic, that set me off. It took me too long to realize that the milky white pebbles propped next to the pile were not rocks.
A grizzly sight, if there was any blood to speak of. Which there wasn't. Morbid, if any circumstances of its origins could be figured out. Fat chance there.
Terrifying?
Try confusingly serene.
Somehow—and this part made me question it the most—desert plants more lush than anything we had encountered up to this point sprouted from the corpse like it were a garden. Green grass freshly watered speckled with aloe and poppies and lavender all flowing about in a gentle breeze patched on to the corpse. The Rampardos had been left to slowly rot for years, apparently.
And yes, that's right. Lavender.
Lavender.
Oh come on! I already changed my mind! I thought.
You didn't need to give me ANOTHER incentive!
Those purple stalks stood out as especially stark against the pure blackness it beckoned from. That swirling vortex of a cave entrance, that malignant call. It was almost enough to distract me from the fact that my mind was clear. I couldn't hear anything. Only the sound of my own breathing, and the crackling of Fenn's fire.
My nose scrunched up in disgust. Not at the body, I couldn't do anything about that. For all I knew he'd been dead for a while, though not as long as the weeds implied.
I was disgusted because I knew right away what the cave was trying to say to me:
'
Catch me if you can~'
"Oh you gotta be kidding me…" I breathed.
Fenn tentatively stepped up to the corpse, keeping a reasonable distance. Unlike me, he seemed emboldened by it, with red eyes narrowed. He pointed out the obvious, "H-he wasn't here before."
In the midst of everything, I forgot Finch was even here. That changed pretty quickly.
Without a word, he stepped right next to the corpse and knelt down. A claw traced the body's rocky carapace, fingers running through the throttled dirt and well-maintained flora. I couldn't see his face from where I was standing. After a moment, he stood up, but didn't turn.
"It's real," he grumbled.
Hearing those words did nothing to me. My legs stayed firm.
That, more than seeing an actual corpse in front of me, made me shudder. I was getting used to this.
Fenn glanced at me, eyes sharper once he saw me, fire lowered to campfire status.
"O-Oswald, you don't think…" he ventured.
That was it. Nothing else needed to be said. He saw it. I saw it. The purple that matched our scarves marked this dead body, an image burned into our collective psyche.
"I don't get this," I admitted, shambling closer to the cave entrance. I watched it—not the corpse—for any trace of movements. "This doesn't make any sense."
Finch spun around and faced me, careful to not let his heavy tail anywhere near the body. I read his face for emotions, but once again found myself wanting. Finch was only readable through his beady black eyes and exposed fangs. Both of which flashed with spots of dull white in the waning sunlight.
His voice told me everything, though.
"You're out of ideas of what this means?" Finch scoffed darkly. Any humor in it died in the dirt where he stood. "I'm thinkin' it's a Zoroark. I'm immune to mind manipulation shit."
I frowned. Nevermind, we weren't on the same page yet. "What? No, not that," I said, shaking my head. "I don't get how the dungeon did this. We're outside of it."
Finch raised an eyebrow at me. Judging by the way he exhaled, he was sick of this, of me.
Fenn spoke up right then.
"I-I'm going in there," he declared.
My back straightened. My tail slapped the back of my legs. "Fenn, wait-"
"C-Cosmo is in there, Oswald!"
I winced.
Fenn glanced at the cave warily, his forehead glowing with intense flames. "We…w-we both know what the lavender means."
I relaxed, against my better judgement.
Yeah. Yeah, I knew.
He looked back at me and I saw a different Quilava. Intrinsically Fenn, but far from him at the same time. This Fenn was a force of nature, with a stature only captured in masterly paintings. I imagined that this was the same Quilava that stared down that Gengar earlier today—defiant and determined. Not someone to be trifled with.
And now he was staring me down—as if I was the roadblock, the enemy. With eyes that blazed like hellfire.
It made me shudder. What a beautiful thing he was.
I all but stepped aside and let him go. The dungeon scared me, but Fenn was the man I loved. Saying no to him was suicide, for both of us. I just had something to tell him first.
"I'm coming with you."
Fenn's expression softened, his eyes apologetic. A silent '
I'm sorry for snapping at you' might as well have been shared between us. "L-let's not waste anymore time, then."
We both watched Finch for his own declaration. He had a disgruntled look about him.
"You two are awfully convinced," he groused.
He wasn't wrong. I didn't think it was possible for me to be even more sure that Cosmo was in that dungeon. But none of that mattered right now.
"We're just going to have to explain later," I said.
Finch pinched the bridge of his snout. "...Fine. Find the little guy first. Our plans haven't changed, doesn't matter. Let's go."
With that, Fenn stood on two legs and held out a paw towards me. The motion was stiff, his expression was dry, and agitated embers fell from atop his head. No more playing around.
I took his paw without a second thought, nodded, and our arms fell to our sides. Finch stomped closer to the opening and glanced back at us, one claw extended. I took his, too.
As a chain, we passed through the silent, dark threshold.
In an instant it all went black for me. Sounds were sucked out into a vacuum that even thoughts struggled to breach. For one fleeting moment, I was alone. My body ceased to exist.
I thought I was prepared. When the void passed over me, the fur on the back of my neck stood on end, yes, but I knew better than to trust the fear that wracked my body. It would not help me here. I stepped out into nothingness, feet walking upon the space between reality and disheveled fragments, locked onto the light that would soon form.
Hands came to grab and cradle me. Hundreds of them wrapped around my arms, my legs, while others dug deeper into my heart and soul. They produced no feeling, caused no pain. Only pressure. Unyielding, strangling pressure. I was covered in them, my fur turned black. Then I controlled the strength of their grip, loosening myself enough to wriggle free.
Now I was left with one thought, one feeling: freefall. I was in freefall. Faces I had never seen before mixed with those that sprung to life within my conscious mixed and fell away, far from reach. I forgot each one the second they left my vision.
They spoke with no words. Words could not reach ears that disintegrated too quickly to hear them.
They knew I was expecting it. If the lavender was any indication, the dungeon had something to say. Each face had a story. I only had to allow my mind to flow free.
Well?
I'm waiting.
It said-
Oo-oO
Ganlon Mine: 1st Floor
It immediately struck Fenn how damp the cave was.
Condensation clung to the rocky walls as well as his fur, leaving splotches of wetness glistening in the dying light that emanated from his flame vents. He quickly came to realize that his fire was the only source of light in the overwhelming darkness this cavern produced. He consciously willed his vents to expand and cast more yawning shadows, nearly touching the ceiling looming over his head. Remembering why he was here made that increasingly easy.
A sour, earthy stench hit his nostrils like a Hydro Pump. The Quilava sneezed, and the resounding noise echoed down a winding tunnel of red stone. Somewhere off in the distance, droplets fell in rhythm to accompany his twitching ears.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
He was still standing after traversing the dungeon entrance, which struck him just as much as the humidity that contributed to his sluggish awareness. Usually, when entering a Mystery Dungeon, the atmosphere and the circumstances of the pokemon had to change to accommodate the constant shifting of reality. Fenn got quite used to waking up curled in a ball whenever he would enter Figy Forest, and rose as soon as he was able each time. Fenn knew better than anyone that dungeons were clumsy, disorganized places. They functioned off of their own rules, however nebulous they were.
Something was off. Not wrong, just…off.
"W…what…?" muttered Oswald. Just like Fenn, he was standing there on the muggy cave floor, blinking in confusion. "Just like that?"
He looked down.
Fenn did, too.
Their paws were still interlocked.
"Th-that was…quick," Fenn said. His grip tightened.
Oswald's teeth shone in the low light. His mouth was agape in shock or awe. "Smooth, more like. Is that-"
Unlike the two of them, Finch seemed unphased. He walked past them and further into the cave. His outline was nearly imperceptible past a certain point, only the shine of his black eyes signaling his place among the silence.
"There you go. Scared of the dark or somethin'?" the Krokorok questioned. "Come on. If we're lucky, we'll knock down two Pidgey with one Rock Throw here."
And just like that, he disappeared into the dark. Only his footsteps, faint as they were, marked his presence.
Fenn frowned. He wondered if Finch had actually traversed many dungeons before. That would be unsurprising, frankly. Finch seemed more like the city type; those were dungeons of their own. But even still, wouldn't he have noticed?
On a whim, Fenn turned his head to look behind him.
There was a curved wall right in the spot where they came in from. Had he not known any better, it could be assumed they walked through it and ended up on the other side of a dead end. At least that would make sense.
Oswald was still musing about this: "No, seriously," he said, "I blinked and we're on the other side. Does that…no, it can't be…"
As much as Fenn wanted to dwell on this, it could just be explained as the dungeon deciding to be special for whatever reason. Maybe it worked differently here? Fenn wasn't entirely interested in thinking about it. Cosmo was still lost. Find him first, ask questions later.
Fenn released his grip and dropped to all fours. He winced at the sensation of something wet and soft under his paws. He ignored it for now. "Y-you can't see in the dark, right Oswald?"
Oswald sputtered, "What? You can?"
Fenn shook his head. "Finch p-probably can, but I have my fire."
Oswald visibility pouted at that. "Oh I see how it is." He waved his paw in the direction of the tunnel ahead. "Lead the way."
That was a no, then. Fenn pointed his snout forward and walked on. "J-just stay behind me."
And on they went.
They didn't go far before Fenn felt something on the back of his neck, like there was a question left lingering in the open air. The pause before Oswald started following helped in that regard. Fenn stopped and looked at the Dewott questioningly. "What?"
Oswald jolted to attention, his eyes wide. It was hard to tell in the low light, but were his ears a little red?
"Oh, uh, nothing," he muttered. "Just uh, probably not the best time to be making comments…like that."
"C-comments?" Fenn raised an eyebrow.
Oswald sniffed. He simply stared ahead, and not at Fenn. "Don't worry about it."
Fenn stared, perplexed. Really? Well okay then. Fenn had no idea what that was about. No time to dwell on it, though. Cosmo first. Fenn continued to wade through the stone and grass after Finch.
…Wait, grass?
Sure enough, uneven patches of grass lined the floors of the cave. Much more lush than outside, too. Like an oasis in a desert.
As far as Fenn was concerned this was the strangest aspect to this dungeon so far. It must have been pretty low rank, which explained why someone was hiding out here.
That…still didn't explain the dead body.
Cosmo first. Cosmo first.
The walls were narrow, just barely wide enough to fit Finch at full height. Winding as they were, not once did they diverge. It was one way the whole time, stretching all the way down, further and further into the earth. The musty air wobbled as they went, curved rock spiraling with a lurid red. The droplets were behind them now. Finch's footsteps were just as loud.
On and on and on. In near complete silence. Fenn was beginning to thank the presence of the grass, as uncomfortable as the dampness was on his fur. He didn't need his feet to hurt right now.
Shadows danced. At first fast, then slow, all in accordance with his strength. Fenn noticed the strides in their steps, bounding across shards of sharpened rock. Some pieces natural, others plainly formed by hidden claws. Rocks were smooth at times only to be blemished by the occasional fracture. Imperfections. Whatever force that dictated the creation of these impossible spaces made them feel real.
The gait of that thought perplexed Fenn. "
Feel" real? Mystery dungeons
are real. Just as real as the grass clumping under his paws after every step. He accepted this a long time ago. It didn't matter how fantastical these dungeons were, he could touch them, he felt them. They made sense to somebody, even if it never made sense to him.
Fenn shook bits of ash off of his forehead. The residue was starting to build.
Stop thinking about that, Fenn. Stop it.
Cosmo first. Cosmo first. This tunnel will end any moment now.
"Hey, Fenn, did I ever tell you what my favorite color is?"
Fenn's flames flickered and he pulled out a weed with his next step. "W-what?" When he peered back at Oswald, the Quilava blanched.
The Dewott was following behind from a fair distance, his green eyes lit up like Volbeats buzzing above a midnight lake. He seemed bothered, even nervous, but there was no denying the straightforward way he regarded Fenn as his fur sheened in the dark.
Still, the question was wildly out of place. Did he not realize where they were? Or what they were doing?
Oswald repeated, "My favorite color. I don't think I ever told you."
Fenn's mouth moved before he could think, the fur on the back of his neck bristling. "O-Oswald, is it the right time for this?"
"Not really," Oswald noted dully. "Thought about it for a while. Then I thought about what I actually told you about myself." He clicked his tongue. "I haven't told you a whole lot."
As true as that was…
"Y-you have amnesia," Fenn pointed out. "I d-didn't want to press you on something you…didn't know."
A smile cut through, clear as day. "You're sweet, Fenn." And then that smile was gone, just like that. "Makes me wish my mind was completely wiped so we didn't waste so much time."
But we haven't wasted time, Fenn thought.
We haven't had time to waste to begin with.
"Don't…d-don't say that, please," Fenn pleaded. "Let's j-just focus on finding Cosmo." That was what he was going to do. No matter how long this tunnel was, Fenn would set his gaze forward and march on.
Oswald increased his pace until his shadow peeked at Fenn through the corner of his eye. "We'll find him," Oswald reassured. "We will."
"R-right…"
The crackling of Fenn's fire filled the cave tunnel. The walls were expanding, if only incrementally. That had to be a sign that they were getting closer.
"Soooo," Oswald said, his footsteps sounding much more lackadaisical than before, "did you want to take a guess?"
Fenn glanced back at the Dewott with the big flopping feet. "G-guess what?"
Oswald threw up his arms, his shadow big and his smile even bigger. "My favorite color!"
"U-um…"
Fenn never thought about it, especially now. He could barely think straight with this moggy air and soggy paws.
No, Cosmo had to come first. Fenn had to be alert and driven if he wanted to take down any threat this dungeon had to offer. Now was not the time for silly questions. Warriors never-
He stopped himself. His ears burned.
Crud.
"G-green?" Fenn tried. It was the first color he could think of. No reason why. No reason at all.
Oswald smirked.
He knew.
"You would think," Oswald said, "but nah. I'm boring. My favorite color is blue."
Fenn's cheeks burned. "O-oh." Goes to show how well Fenn knew his own boyfriend. Wasn't that one of the first things pokemon asked on dates? Agh! Stupid awkward fireball!
Oswald chuckled. It was such a cunning sound, sharp like Scyther blades.
"Don't worry," he said. "I didn't know what it was until five minutes ago either."
Fenn balked. "W-wait, what made you remember it?"
"I don't think I
did remember it. I just…thought about it."
"Oh…" A question slipped right out of Fenn's mouth, one he didn't know he wanted to ask: "W-what kind of blue?"
"Is it cliché of me to say 'ocean blue?'"
Fenn sputtered out a laugh. "K-kinda."
"Knew it."
"W-what do you think
my f-favorite color is, Oswald?" Fenn wondered, his voice producing a faint echo.
Without missing a beat, Oswald said, "Purple."
"W-wha- how?" Fenn stopped immediately, jumping up onto two feet and meeting Oswald at eye level. Their noses were inches apart.
When did Fenn ever say what his favorite color was? How did he-
Oh.
Oswald pulled on his scarf and grinned.
If a Quilava could turn Cheri red, Fenn certainly would have.
Gosh, and those teeth behind that grin, with those fangs. Dumb Dewott. Stupid, weird, dopey, dumb, dumb, dumb…
Fenn blew a puff of smoke into Oswald's face, causing him to cough and fan it away. Blue fur turned dusty grey, and Oswald laughed in spite of it.
"Heeey, come on!" Oswald said, more than a little amused. "You agreed to the team name. You should've known better."
Fenn was too flustered to admit that the stupid Dewott with that handsome face and stunning green eyes was right. He simply dropped back down onto all fours and continued on, mouth sealed shut. Yes, his flames were scraping against the ceiling of the corridor now. He gave it no thought.
As Fenn walked, paws dragging over blades of freshly watered grass, he thought about blue.
Blue. The kind of blue that split the clouds and scared away the rain. Before he met Oswald, Fenn internalized that kind of blue as something to be avoided. Currents in streams that would pull him under, pools of death concocted to drown a fire type like him, and a constant reminder that over half of the entire world was not meant for someone such as him.
Now, Fenn found out he really liked that kind of blue. Water itself was not blue; it was clear. The color was actually a reflection of the sky above. A mirror that shined down upon the world.
It made perfect sense. Oswald was always going to be that beautiful exception. If he had never asked that question, Fenn likely never would have drawn that connection.
A small taste, that was all it was. A straightforward question. Just that easy.
All either of them had to do was ask.
Fenn wanted more. Just the thought of…learning more about Oswald made his heart flutter.
"H-hey Oswald?" Fenn started. He continued to walk forward, ears perked for Finch's dwindling footsteps.
Oswald's reply was nearly immediate, if a bit distracted. "Yeah?"
"Do you…d-do you remember anything about where you grew up?"
There was a beat.
"…Nope. Not a whole lot. I think…I remember a window, snowy days, a garden, seeing the ocean for the first time, my toes in the sand…"
His human toes. Fenn still couldn't believe that Oswald wasn't always a water type. All of his memories, fragments that they were, placed him in the shoes of a human, not an Oshawott or Dewott. How disorienting.
"Th-that sounds-"
"Vague? Upsetting? Yeah, it is."
"Does th-that upset you?"
"I've gotten used to it. It's too…well, that's not true. Some emotions are attached to those memories, but it's like there's a hole in the road. I'm on a path, I can see the destination, but there's a gap that I can't cross, no matter what I do."
"I wonder…w-what if something could help you across?"
"The metaphor stops making sense when you apply logic to it, Fenn. Could I build a bridge and get to the other side that way? Frickin'…maybe. Depends on the building materials that I have no concept of."
"Th-there's still multiple ways to cross a gap."
"At certain times of day under certain conditions with the right circumstances, sure. Doesn't really matter, Fenn, I stopped trying every option and took the long way around instead."
Fenn frowned. Metaphor or not, Fenn wanted to help. There had to be some kind of trigger. A hidden memory that happened to be lodged within his subconscious and would lead to a clue.
No harm in trying, right? Fenn attempted by asking, "What k-kind of music d-did you like?"
There was another beat.
"'Did' or 'do?'" Oswald queried.
Fenn wondered now, too. "Does…d-does it matter?"
"I don't know. Would losing my memory change my taste in music?"
"W-would it?"
A moment passed where Oswald really seemed to be considering his answer. At one point Fenn looked back to see the water type's face twisted in concentration, an answer right on the tip of his tongue.
In the end, Fenn surmised he didn't find it. Oswald said, "I dunno. What kind of music do you even have here in Pamtre?"
That was a…broad question. A surprisingly difficult one, too. Fenn didn't pay much attention to the music he'd heard in his life. He knew that in some cities, like Hondew City just south of here, it was common for mons to play live music. Though the information Fenn read on Hondew never specified what kind. It must have been second hand, like…the advice he was given once about how to get to know someone. Good grief.
"I-I don't listen to music that o-often," Fenn admitted, and it wasn't entirely a lie. "I don't…I-I can't answer that very well."
"Hm," was all that Oswald had to say about that.
That sentiment lingered in the air for a while, actually. Neither of them knew where to go from there.
That was, until Oswald started singing.
"Mmmhm every time I see your faaaaace," Oswald mumbled under his breath. "It seeeeeeems…like the dawning of a brand new day…oh yeeeah…"
Fenn's ears flicked. The way Oswald's singing voice tangled in his brain made the Quilava sway incredibly briefly. So fleeting, yet so tantalizing.
"H-huh? What was that?" Fenn asked.
Oswald grumbled, "Mm, don't worry about it."
"Oh. O-okay." Fenn didn't even try to hide his disappointment.
There was a return to silence. For a bit. Seeing as how the moment passed, Oswald clearly didn't want to talk about it.
But…Fenn
really wanted to hear more. He wanted to
know more. It was right there—how could he let it go when it was
right there?
Fenn sucked in, the fur on his chest puffing out with his breath. "D-did you remember a…a-a song?" he ventured.
"Um."
One more beat.
"Kinda?" Oswald made a non-committal noise. "It's not really worth talking about."
I don't care!
Inwardly, a forest was burning to cinders. Outwardly, Fenn said, "I-it sounded good."
"The song?" Oswald hesitated. "…Nah, I'm not a good singer."
"H-how do you know?"
"Educated guess."
Fenn glanced over his shoulder with a frown. "I-I still want to hear you sing sometime, e-e-even if it sounds…bad."
From what little Fenn saw, Oswald was visibly taken aback, his eyes wide.
Oswald stated after clearing his throat, "Let's…just get through this cave first." It sure sounded more like a request than anything else to Fenn.
Nonetheless, he had a point. They were here on a mission. Cosmo was still lost.
Cosmo first. Cosmo…first.
Fenn sighed. He lost track of how long they had been walking, the discomfort in his paws having segued from a cold sting to a lukewarm ache. So far, the mines had been nothing but one long, dank hallway. No curves in the foundation of the walls, no changes in atmosphere, and no steep drops. Just an incline down.
And down.
And down.
It didn't matter anymore. Fenn dimmed his flames until it was mere candlelight. Cracks in the stone filled with more black holes, leaving stripes of darkness to mark the mystery behind every step. Happy to receive some reprieve, the tunnel gaped in joy.
"I'm so sorry, Fenn," Oswald whispered.
"N-none of this is your fault, O-Oswald," Fenn whispered back.
"If we're both being vague, then I may as well take the blame for
something that happened."
"Like…l-like what?"
"Anything that happened today, honestly."
Fenn pondered his options. It would have been easy to take his pick: following Finch, the clumsy escape, the hand Oswald cut off, the hole in the sky cart, freaking out in front of the dungeon, and losing Cosmo. What stuck out most to Fenn was that none of it
is Oswald's fault. And even if it was, Fenn was right there with him the whole time. He could have stopped him.
So, in the end, it was better to ask questions; he could do that now.
"W-was it really an accident?" Fenn asked hopefully.
Oswald blew a raspberry. "If I start stabbing people on purpose, you'll know I've lost it."
"D-did you?"
"…No. No, I didn't mean to cut Crocus' hand off."
"Then…h-how…?" Fenn shook his head. "Did you…know y-you could do that?"
"Yes and no. Yes, because I cut a training dummy in half before. No, because I wasn't expecting it to happen in that moment."
An impulsive attack, possibly activated through self-defense. Looking back on it, Fenn had done something like that before. Back against the wall, the body will react like it's on death's door: Fenn's flames would grow to new heights, Oswald's scalchops would lengthen to blades.
That made sense.
Oswald's scalchop subsequently cutting through flesh and bone did not.
In all his life, the only mons Fenn had met that were missing an appendage were war veterans and that Houndoom from Kebia Castle. Limb loss was rare for pokemon, something Oswald didn't seem to realize. How could he? He only became a Dewott less than a month ago.
Just what kind of power was that Dewott harboring?
"Okay," Fenn said, looking back with a weak smile, "I believe you."
Oswald didn't smile back. His fur looked disheveled in the low light and heavy shadows. "Do you forgive me, though?"
Honestly?
No.
Not until they find Cosmo.
"I-I-I will," Fenn assured him. If they didn't find Cosmo, Fenn wasn't sure what he would do with himself. Forgiving Oswald was the only outcome Fenn could bear to consider.
Oswald smiled at that, sad that it was. "Thanks, Fenn," he said. "That's more than I can ask for."
Fenn's flames dimmed to sparks, after which he frantically righted himself. For the smallest of moments, they were both in the dark.
It felt no different.
"Whoa. You okay?" Oswald worriedly asked.
Fenn thought that he might have been carrying a bag of rocks on his back at that moment. All of it was so heavy. Guilt overwhelmed him, slowing his gait to a crawl. He had no choice but to stop, or else he'd collapse.
Once again Fenn reeled up onto his hind paws and faced his boyfriend. The two of them were mere outlines of pokemon in the darkness.
"Fenn?" Oswald prodded, gingerly resting a paw on Fenn's shoulder.
Fenn sniffled. The fire atop his head spurt out wailing embers into the dirt.
"C-can I be honest?" Fenn uttered.
Oswald nodded.
"I…I-I…"
Fenn forced himself to take a deep breath.
"I don't…know w-what I'm doing," admitted Fenn. "I-I haven't known since I went home." He motioned to the cave around him. "And n-n-now I'm here and…I can't t-tell if I'm getting closer or-" his breath hitched, "-f-further away."
Oswald's voice was quiet, comforting. But distant and unbalanced. "Closer or further…to what?" he wondered.
"I-I-I'm not…sure," Fenn lied. "I-I just…I feel g-guilty."
And warriors never felt guilty. Not that Oswald would know what that meant. Fenn lacked the words capable of articulating where his guilt came, and for what reason it maligned him.
Despite his best efforts, the tightening in his chest wouldn't go away. What would his father say if he saw him here and now, aimless and descending to the center of the earth? Would he be proud? Was this what warriors did, or was this Fenn's method of paving his own path?
Fenn shouldn't care. He wasn't a warrior anymore, it didn't matter. But if that was true, then why did nothing else feel right?
"You haven't done anything wrong, Fenn," Oswald reassured him.
Fenn shook his head, his cheeks glistening with tiny, forgotten tears. "Of course…I-I have. W-walking off the path isn't…a bad thing…b-but getting lost is."
And if Fenn was being honest, he'd never felt more lost. His future was foggy, his prospects were up in the air, and now his friend was missing. He just hadn't stopped to think about any of that today…because Oswald's path was his. It was only after reflecting on it in a quiet moment that Fenn realized that the path he had been walking was paved for one mon and one mon only. Fenn needed to find his own.
He just wondered if he had somehow already messed that up, too.
Obviously unsure of what to do, Oswald did little more than watch Fenn, stroke his shoulder, and whisper, "Lost? Fenn, what's going on?"
Just as the tears began to fall, Fenn uttered, "C-can you hold me?"
Although he had no answers to give, Oswald pulled Fenn into a deep hug without hesitation. Paws stroking backs, a cheek into the crook of a neck, a chin on the shoulder, wet eyes and wet fur, two bodies intertwined in the depths of the earth. Regardless of what their circumstances were, how they got here or why, Fenn found solace in the fact that they were here together.
"Shh, Fenn, it's okay," soothed Oswald. "Stop thinking about it for right now."
Fenn still didn't forgive Oswald yet. But he needed him more than the hopeless Quilava knew how to express. Scraggly fur absorbed Fenn's tears while slow rubs on the back of his neck further soothed him to light sniffles.
Lost as he was, with no path left to take, Fenn cried because he could. At least that was something he could understand.
They pulled away after some time. Fenn's paws found purchase on Oswald's arms, while Oswald's rested on Fenn's shoulders. They looked into each other's eyes, Fenn marveling at the glint in their reflections. So much had gone unspoken, so much left to unravel, but when Fenn opened his mouth to speak, nothing came out.
Before he knew it, Oswald had done the same. His lips parted, and the natural course of action from there was for them to kiss.
It was instinctual; no words needed to be said. Fueled by pure emotion, as well as some carnal drive to be closer, Fenn was lost to the dance of passion. Nothing but their collective quickened heartbeats played in his ears, while light was hardly a concept to consider. The world ceased to exist.
All that remained was Fenn and Oswald, as one, dancing in the dark.
"Hey! Hurry up! I found the portal!"
Light returned in an instant. Fenn was blinded by his own flames, and the cave reformed around Oswald's shocked expression. The damp air coalesced into being just rapidly enough to make the Quilava wince and wrench his paws away. Oswald did the same, looking away and clearing his throat. Fenn's cheeks burned under his fur.
"Finch?" Oswald shouted over Fenn's shoulder.
"Come on!" Finch called back, his voice raspy and deep against the cave walls. While he wasn't far off, there was a reason they had to shout.
Fenn and Oswald exchanged an almost panicked look. Whoops.
Something for later. Boxes left to unpack. There were more important things to care about right now. Like Cosmo.
In short time, Fenn and Oswald skidded to a halt right behind Finch. He spared them a look over his shoulder and not much else.
"Done making out back there?" Finch sneered.
"Shut up, Finch," Oswald grumbled.
Please. Fenn gripped his arm tightly.
Finch growled a laugh. "About time this place made up its mind," he said, nodding at the space in front of him. "Next floor's past here."
That didn't sound right. All Fenn saw was a wall of onyx stone so black that it refused to reflect his firelight.
…Wait, no.
That wasn't right. The onyx was moving, churning, like a broth of oil and sparkling salt. It filled into the overhang, the floor, and everything in between as if perfectly shaped to fit within. Fenn frowned at it in confusion.
Oswald asked the exact question Fenn had on his mind: "Where's the stairs?"
Looking back, Finch gave him an odd look. "Stairs? What stairs?"
"The stairs to the next floor," Oswald replied. "Haven't you ever been inside a dungeon before?"
Finch fully turned upon hearing that. His eyes bore no indication that he was any less perplexed. "Okay, Ozzy. Since you're such an expert, why don't you tell me where you'd put a set of stairs around here, hm?"
Oswald seemed taken aback by that for a moment and blinked, then said, "No, just…this doesn't make any sense."
"What doesn't make sense?"
"The dungeon!" Oswald furrowed his brow, flicking his wrist at the wall of swirling darkness. "First it has nothing to say, then our entrance is smoother than normal, and now it decides to switch things up with the stairs, too?"
"Ozzy, do you know how crazy you sound?" he wondered, showing his teeth.
"Oh, shut up," repeated Oswald. "These places are
never like this. Why is this one so different?"
Finch just shook his head. "I don't know what in Darkai's name you're talking about. But we can keep asking questions or we can move on. Your choice."
Evidently, Oswald's choice was to kick some pebbles around and clench his fists next to Fenn. "I'm
telling you," Oswald said, insistent, "something isn't right here."
As much as Fenn agreed with that, and how off things have been so far…
Cosmo first. Cosmo first.
"O-Oswald," he spoke up, "don't you th-think it's a good thing the dungeon is being easy on us?"
"No," was Oswald's immediate answer, "not to me. It's inconsistent and that makes me worried."
Fenn looked down at his toes and mumbled, "I-I'm more worried about Cosmo, honestly…"
A moment of palpable incredulity passed, after which Oswald sighed.
"…Alright, what-the-fuck-ever." And he took his paw in Fenn's.
Finch, finally, nodded. There was a smug air about him now, like he just caught the prey he had been tailing for hours.
"We'll solve your little mystery after we find the Zangoose, Ozzy" he said, holding out his claw to Fenn. "And Cosmo."
Fenn only took it after glancing at Oswald and making sure he was alright. If anything, Fenn realized, Oswald was just annoyed. So Fenn took Finch's claw and held it awkwardly. All the while, he couldn't help but notice how the Dewott's free paw rested on the weapon at his hip.
For now, Fenn put it out of his mind. Same with his own proclivity for jumping into danger. There would be time for this later.
Cosmo first. Cosmo first.
Oo-oO
Oh wondrous Luna, save me from these animals.
Larkspur was lightheaded amidst all of the irksome interrogating Canary had thrust upon the Sableye. It was a constant back and forth that yielded no fruit. Canary, to his credit, prodded at Crane's trustworthiness until there was a palpable thread of irritation between them. But even that led to a dead end at every turn.
Was there reason to believe Crane did this out of greed? Likely, but inconclusive.
Had he crafted plans to act on his own again in the future? No guarantees, but just as well the question was delivered right back in turn. Canary seemed shocked to have his reliability be so deftly challenged.
What became of Crane's dignity and honor? Lost to time, Crane surmised. Larkspur was especially uninterested in this line of questioning. It did not matter
why the Sableye was such a disgusting, reprehensible welt upon this establishment. Larkspur wanted results, and he wanted them his way.
Still, Canary yucked it up as he sat in an illustrious arm chair by the hearth, one leg crossed over the other. His posture was abysmal. It made Larkspur sick. This contemptuous body of his led him to the far wall where he leaned next to a painting of an immaculately painted Delphox coated in fire.
His Luna.
"Oh, Luna," Larkspur whispered. One tentacle trailed across the Delphox's sultry gaze, a shudder coursing through every part of the Malamar's being. "I desire nothing more than your feminine guile and lustful whims. Please…" He begged. "Return to me, and we shall destroy every star in the galaxy."
A fit of laughter erupted from the chaise lounge—hysterical and full of pernicious disregard.
"So that's all it is," Crane said flippantly. "As you can tell, I have no ill will. Not for you, and certainly not for The Count."
Larkspur could feel one gem-addled gaze upon him. He ignored it, despised it.
"And I believe you," Canary offered, the sound of ice jingling in a glass cup playing for all to hear. "We've known each other for years, Crane. We all have. I do not doubt your commitment."
A sneer bled through Crane's tone. "Then I see no reason for this meeting! You trust me, don't you?"
Canary chuckled. It was a hollow sound. "Of course I do. Larkspur, as well. But that is not the point."
Finally. Larkspur turned just in time to witness the Zoroark leaning forward in his chair. His mane stained the surrounding air a bloody scarlet.
Canary said, "Ganlon Mine holds the next Kingfisher gem. We all know this. We've known this for quite some time. Our scouts have determined that Kebia has been catching on and sent scouts of their own recently. Procuring the gem would not be easy. But we had a plan, in case you have forgotten."
Crane played with the bauble around his neck, bouncing it about in his palm. "Yes, I remember," he stated. "It's a shame I didn't agree with this plan."
The illusion of hysterics had faded. Canary wore an indignant frown. "So you decided to go with your
own plan?"
"Yes. Is that so hard to believe?"
After hearing that, Canary made it a point to turn a nearly complete 180 degrees just to glance at Larkspur over the headrest of the chair. His face said everything: this was not going according to plan.
The tentacles atop Larkspur's head writhed in discontent. His expression hardened to stone, but the lack of a response communicated a clear "
proceed." Canary did just that.
With a sigh, Canary turned back to the imp and questioned, "Crane, my dear compatriot, would you please enlighten us on what this plan was?"
"My good friend, my dearest
buddy Canary, do you remember the sack of the Bouquet?" Crane asked with a snicker. "From the war? I do."
"I was
there, Crane. Saw it with my own two eyes."
"Captain Amer was quite the sight to behold, wasn't he?"
Canary nodded slowly, yet impatiently at the same time.
Crane hummed an agreement; meant only for himself. "'The Captain of Chaos' they called him. Recall how he earned that nickname?"
Normally, Larkspur did not care to remember these sorts of details. Amer was dead, and his legacy died with him. There was no value in grasping onto the past like this. Even still, Larkspur stood at alert when hearing that name. Captain Amer was the kind of soul that yearned for violence. Born to be cruel, a lambkin bathed in blood. War was his true calling.
Larkspur thought him to be insane, truly. Had to be considering the number of agonized corpses stacked upon the Obstagoon's grave. For Crane to mention him now, here, emboldened the Malamar's contempt for the unsightly creature. Whatever plans he had crafted were sure to lead to his death and the collapse of the Oriole's secrecy.
If Canary felt the same, he did not show it. He said, "By sending his own soldiers to their deaths?"
Crane held up a finger and tutted. "Ah ah ah, lest you forget—those deaths were premeditated. Once they surrendered their lives to a cause, they became a resource to be consumed. Such is the truth of war."
Clink. Canary set his glass onto a nearby side table. "Explain where you're going with this," the Zoroark demanded darkly.
Larkspur floated to the other side of Canary's chair, his head tentacles whipping about. "He seeks to thin their numbers with the weak and unloyal, and inflate their confidence," Larkspur stated. That much became clear. Amer used that same tactic many, many times before.
"Incorrect," said Crane. "The weak and unloyal were already on site this time, as were the scouts from Kebia. No, Captain Amer had a different tactic: the Seeds of Fear. As long as the team I sent arrived when instructed, time will not be wasted on arrests and pointless negotiations."
Ah, there it was. Violence was assured.
A smile almost curled onto Larkspur's beak. Almost.
Canary growled, "The Seeds of Fear never worked, Crane!"
"Also incorrect," Crane countered, "it accomplished what it set out to do every single time. Captain Amer was a genius, you see. A forest may lose its trees-"
"But the seeds will flourish within fertile soil," Larkspur finished for him. Now he understood.
Crane gave the Malamar a toothy grin. "You see the vision, then, Lark?"
Larkspur's narrowed eyes remained focused on the Sableye, offering the nitwit nothing but pure indifference. But beneath the surface, buried between the skin and the sinew, Larkspur envisioned himself painfully plucking every finger from Crane's hands and roasting him alive on an iron spit.
While Canary sat slack jawed and horrified, and Crane lounged content with his supposed genius, Larkspur said little more than this:
"You intend to send them all to the slaughter."
Oo-oO
Ganlon Mine: 2nd floor
It was a scene straight out of a painting.
Light spilled in from a circular hole in the ceiling, illuminating a bed of grass and flowers. Red roses, carnations, lilies—all poking out of the ground where they shouldn't have been, a pastiche of white and pink stained red. The surrounding cave was nothing more than a backdrop for this impossible miracle, darkness made ever darker by the prevalence of this light—a white canvas.
An even greater miracle was that none of these flowers were trampled by the feet shifting around their stalks. Just below the light, a group of pokemon danced in a capricious fit of movement. There was an Oricorio with red and black feathers, a Hitmonlee with two scarves wrapped around their legs, a Marowak with their skull painted in motley—all consumed by a sickness that prevented them from keeping still. Their arms were extended upward in reverence, and their eyes fogged over vacantly.
I could have been fooled, though, as it became immediately apparent that the light was not the only thing they could've been looking up at. After all, Cosmo was suspended directly above their outstretched arms.
He was also orange now, for some reason.
"Ohohoho!" Cosmo bellowed, his bubble sparkling. "Come to marvel at the awesomeness that is
Astro?"
My mind was as sluggish as a snail. The time between us stepping through the portal and witnessing this scene was nearly nonexistent. I barely had enough time to process it.
Bemused, I murmured, "Cosmo? What the hell? Who are these people?"
Fenn slipped out of my grip to approach hesitantly, one paw outstretched. He stammered, "C-Cosmo? A-are you okay?"
At that, Cosmo laughed maniacally. "Cosmo is
gone! Like the coward he is! Now it is I, Astro, who remains!"
In an effort that could have only been coordinated, the dancers started chanting.
"Astro, the great!" said one.
"Astro, the magnificent!" said another.
"Astro! Astro! Astro!" they all repeated.
What in the…
Fenn peered back at me. His pupils were wide in the dark, while embers popped out in anxious fits onto the stone floor.
I met his gaze with just as much astonishment, and little to no answers. I didn't know what to say.
That was why Finch was there, though. Still just as bewildered as us based on his rigid stature and raised eyebrows, Finch crept around the group of dancers, stopping to point with a claw once he noticed something.
"Hey," Finch called out," it's the Zangoose!"
For the second time in just a couple of minutes, I flinched.
"What!?" I exclaimed.
Sure enough, amongst the party of dancers was a Zangoose. His eyes were glazed over just like the others. Even from where I was standing I could tell that he was enraptured by the Solosis just out of reach.
My heart started pumping in rhythm with the dancer's footwork.
"Astro!"
Ba-thump.
"Astro!"
Ba-thump.
"Astro!"
Ba-thump.
Finch tried to get their attention by snapping his fingers. "Hey, Zangoose! Iris sent me! Snapper Finch! Ring any bells?"
Bells… I thought.
Do I hear bells, or is that the sound of their feet?
Each step rang loudly in my ears, to the point where I thought the world might have been quaking in response. Only giants as tall as buildings could have produced sounds this gargantuan.
One of the dancers, the Marowak and not the Zangoose, responded, "A hero, a hero, a hero is he! No bells ring for such-as-me!"
"Not you!" Finch growled. He tried again, gruffer this time. "Zangoose, we need to talk!"
This time, the Oricorio sang. "What's my name? What's my name? Did you for-get to give me a name?"
By this point I could tell Finch was frustrated. Dark energy seeped from his jaw, fangs black as night. He looked malicious, or even evil. More than enough to send a shiver down my spine. Yet in this situation his solution was to look at me, as though I knew what was going on.
To be fair, it wasn't a terrible assessment. My hackles were raised in alarm, but my fingers tapped my thighs in rhythm with the dancers. This wasn't normal, obviously. These weren't ferals—couldn't be. If these were the pokemon from the campsite, then why were they acting like this?
What did Cosmo do?
I did little more than stare in shock. That just made Finch even angrier, pure darkness pooling in his throat.
"Zangoose!" he shouted again, and it sounded like the void. No response.
Then Fenn tried. Just like Finch his fire spiked in preparation for a fight. "C-Cosmo?" he pleaded. "Can you come d-down from there?"
Cosmo spun in place at a different speed compared to the dancers. "No! Astro will not! As a legendary hero, it is the duty of Astro to be fearless, independent! Astro will do as he pleases!"
"Fearless!" repeated one of the dancers.
"Independent!" repeated another dancer.
"Astro! Astro! Astro!"
Fenn whined. It was his turn to look back at me for direction.
I almost shrugged.
I sure as hell didn't know what was going on. Why would I? All I knew was that Cosmo was just out of reach, he apparently changed identities at one point, and the rest was too strange to think about.
What could I have done? Or more accurately, what did they want me to do?
I would get my answer when the dancers started singing again.
The Hitmonlee said, "Youth is kind, so frail and free."
A Bellossom said, "Picking berries from the tree."
A Weavile said, "Love swings, do not smother."
And finally, the Zangoose said, "Please o' please, call back to mother."
At first I wasn't even focusing on the lyrics. It all sounded like nonsense, completely unremoved from their reverence of Cosmo/Astro. My mind was too clogged with the sounds of bells to consider any of it.
Ringing, ringing, ringing. Ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump. Stomp, stomp, stomp.
I looked down. I was gripping the strap of my shoulder bag tightly without realizing it. I took a deep breath.
Frail and free.
Picking berries.
Smothering.
Mother.
What did these things mean?
That push I felt outside the dungeon returned, adding further pressure to my skull. I squeezed my eyes shut, and in my mind I saw multicolored shapes bouncing around with no care in the world. Purple circles coalescing into one, wandering from end-to-end. It split suddenly, leaving one purple circle and one orange circle. The purple chased the orange, a game of cat of mouse, until both expanded. My vision was filled with one part purple and one part orange, as close as could possibly be.
A voice asked me, '
Do you get it now?'
I did. The pressure subsided.
Opening my eyes, I moved to peel open the flap of my shoulder bag. "Okay, 'Astro,' come down from there and get in the bag," I demanded.
Immediately, Cosmo stopped swaying about. The pull of my voice knocked him straight out of his stupor, directing him to me. He said "okay!" and flew in my direction before landing right in the open bag. His tiny face poked out of the fabric with eyes bright and sunny.
"Astro shall look over you puny mortals with his watchful eye from his battle station!" he announced. "He will keep you safe from the evil lurking around every corner, no problem!"
"That's great, buddy," I said, closing the bag's flap on his face.
More muffled declarations of heroism erupted from the bag, only to stop after a moment of acceptance. Done. Cosmo caught.
I let out a sigh. That was one load off my shoulders. Too bad I didn't get any time to celebrate.
Fenn gasped. "Oswald!"
I barely started to relax before Fenn's voice snapped me to attention. "Fenn?"
"L-look!" Fenn pointed toward the light.
I did just that. As soon as I saw it, my blood ran cold.
The dancers had stopped dancing.
All of the pokemon stood in a circle facing one another, rigid and silent. The few sets of eyes I could see were not just fogged over, they were completely empty. No life behind them whatsoever.
In complete unison, all of them stepped back until they were out of the range of the light and into the dark.
Then they collapsed. The collective noise was deafening.
Piercing silence followed.
No one said anything for what felt like hours.
Fenn glanced at me, uncertainty in his eyes.
I wasn't doing any better. My paws were shaking.
The bells had stopped ringing. My heartbeat did not.
It was Finch who made the first move. He advanced on the Zangoose's body, bending down to check on him. In the quiet, it was easy to hear the exact moment that his breath hitched. The krok's back stiffened.
"...He's dead," Finch said.
I balked. "Dead?"
Fenn rushed to check another mon, the Marowak. He knelt down, turning the Marowak's head about, breath ragged and panicked. After a moment he froze, stood up, and rubbed his arm anxiously.
"Th-they're all…d-dead…." Fenn whispered. His flames were snuffed out. The air felt cold.
Deep in my mind, I heard that voice again.
'
Do you get it now?'
"No, I…" I breathed. "I…don't."
Finch's claws materialized in front of my face, the snapping sound he made with them causing me to flinch. I looked up at him just as one of my paws rushed to grasp my scalchop.
"Ozzy," Finch grumbled, "say something."
I tried. I really did.
"I…I-I…"
It all came out as dry air.
Finch snarled. "Ozzy!"
"WHAT?" I shouted back. This time, I unclasped my scalchop, holding it up defensively.
It was subtle, but a hint of fear entered Finch's eyes. A foreign emotion for the Krokorok. He leaned in and spoke in a low voice. "I need you around for this, Ozzy," he said. "Shit isn't making sense anymore."
Wasn't it? How would he know?
How would
I know?
I put my scalchop back on my hip.
"…Sorry," I muttered.
He frowned. Patted me on the shoulder. Said nothing.
He walked off to the other bodies after that, checking each one for life to minimal results. That was it. Our contact was dead, we were wanted as criminals by the guild, and now were two floors deep into a mystery dungeon. The next question both of us had was unspoken.
What now?
Well, the first order of business was pretty clear for me: find Fenn.
Stepping around Finch, I found that the Quilava wasn't far off. He was laying down next to one of the bodies—the Oricorio—a pensive look on his face. I sat down next to him cautiously.
"Fenn?" I ventured.
It took him a moment before he gathered the courage to look me in the eyes. "…O-Oswald?"
"Cosmo's safe," I assured him. "He didn't see…whatever it is that just happened."
Fenn nodded. "That's…th-that's good."
"Are you okay?"
He hesitated, then nodded again.
I started to say, "Hey, what do you think-" before stopping myself. How the hell would he know?
So stupid, I thought bitterly.
Still, Fenn gave the best answer he could:
"I-I don't know."
Finch was still wandering around the flowerbed, poking at the corpses like they would start moving again. Or maybe just checking to see if they were actually dead. Meanwhile, Fenn and I just…sat there.
Waiting for the end. For oblivion.
"H-hey, Oswald?" Fenn asked.
"Hm?" I responded.
"Did we…b-bring an Escape Orb."
"…I don't remember."
Fenn gave me a pleading look, with ears drooped. I could tell he didn't want to say it.
I sighed. Guess that was it. Why even stay if the pokemon we came here for was dead?
"I'll check," I said lowly, and reached for my bag-
"OOOOOOOOOH!"
Both Fenn and I jumped. That voice didn't belong to Finch.
It didn't belong to anyone we knew.
Fenn's forehead burst into flames and I sprung to my feet with a scalchop in hand. Our eyes shot to the other side of the bed of flowers where a figure stepped out from the dark and into the light.
This figure, as I quickly came to realize, was one I actually had seen before.
Recently. The white fur and long, sharp claws made that glaringly apparent.
My stomach dropped.
Standing in the light was the same Zangoose that spoke to me of calling back to mother. The same Zangoose we came here to find. The same Zangoose that had fallen dead just minutes prior.
And now that Zangoose was yawning.
"Hoooo wee, it is good to be alive!"
Author's Note - 4/6/2025
It sure is.
This chapter was a fun one, even though it took me a couple tries to get right. Initially I was going to start the chapter with Cosmo's POV but I ended up being unsatisfied with it. What I have now is definitely better even if it didn't exactly get the idea I wanted across, but there's still time for that later, luckily. Just in general I got hit with a lot of ideas on how to expand on Fenn and Cosmo and Finch here. And they really needed it for this arc. Too bad I already breached 10k words this time. Oh well.
Thank you for your patience, by the way. And thank you for your kind words Berbus, Tomich, Moths, Crowenabler, mew, and more! It really does mean a lot. Also want to thank my dear friend Nikelnani for both being incredibly helpful in keeping me sane while writing and giving me some great ideas. He made the art piece for this chapter (not viewable on ffn) on really short notice and I couldn't be more thankful.
And of course, thanks to my betas: Bonehead, Dust_Scout, and Timelocke.
See you next- oh, and one more thing. Next chapter after this one will be a short interlude. Still figuring out the details on that one, but it should be out sooner than a regular chapter.
Okay, thank you for reading. Bye bye!
I have a bit more context for this argument now, though I'm not entirely sure where Calluna's coming from, since the whole fic we've been led to believe Anemone's a shut in who doesn't see people and Oswald is ✨special ✨because he's held her attention long enough to get multiple meetings and privating rooming and all that jazz. 
