Content warning: This chapter contains some more intense violence than usual near the middle.
Special Episode 5 – I Promise
You must remember your duties and your purpose and follow what your body is most capable of. The Magcargo should not be a woodworker. The Golem should not be a fisher. The Electrode should not be a scribe. All Pokémon should follow their duties and put themselves to their best use. For that is how your villages and your towns and your world may prosper.
—Book of Arceus, Creation
Twin Dragon Pulse flames spiraled across the Wooden Wilds, slamming into a strange, black creature, disintegrating it into nothing. Three more took its place, rising from the ground. A third Dragon Pulse burst through the air, slamming into the first one; the resultant shockwave slammed the other two wraiths.
“Again!” Mama shouted. The Goodra pointed her horns ahead.
Anam opened his mouth—which took up most of his body—and fired another Dragon Pulse at the right wraith. The force pressed him against Mama’s chest, but he still hit his mark, disintegrating it. Beside him was Papa, firing his own Dragon Pulse from within Mama’s left arm. The Salandit was much more adept, the Pulse hitting the wraith in the core, obliterating it all the same.
“Perfect,” Mama said. “Good work, you two.”
With the dark creatures gone, the surrounding field felt a lot brighter. Pale brown grass that went up to Mama’s belly filled most of their view under a sky half filled with clouds.
“Let’s keep on our guard,” Papa said. “Anam, are you well?”
“Yup!” Anam bobbed his ill-formed body. The Goomy twisted and turned in Mama’s hold. “This is fun, Mama!”
The Goodra sighed. “Don’t take this so lightly, Anam. This is dangerous.”
“It wouldn’t be dangerous if you let me come with you!” Anam pressed his body against Mama in what was his attempt at a hug. “Besides, you said it’s even more dangerous if you leave me alone!”
“Anam, that’s because you always find ways to wander off.”
“That’s because I have to find you!” Blissful, Anam nuzzled his forehead against Mama’s chest. “I love you, Mama.”
The Goodra mother sighed, bringing a hand between the Goomy’s feelers. “I love you too, Anam.”
This earned a grin that took up the entire width of Anam’s face. Suddenly, he gasped. “Mama! Let’s play Blaster!”
“N-now?”
“Now! Now!” Anam squirmed in her hands. “Just once, just once!”
“Just once…” She shook her head, horns bobbing behind her. “If you wish.”
Papa crawled from Mama’s arms and onto her shoulders. Then, she positioned Anam on the top of her right arm, angling it upward until he slid down. His back pressed against her snout, earning a giggle from the child. He spun around, face to face.
“Kiss kiss!” Anam said, giving Mama a peck on the lips.
Mama smiled back, pressing her forehead against his. “Ready?”
“Ready… BLAST!”
At once, he and Mama both shot each other with Dragon Pulse attacks. The energies pressed against one another, burning Mama’s arm, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. She always did this!
The force against Anam’s tiny body was much greater. He went into the air, several feet from the weak Pulse, and screamed with joy once Mama stopped. A bit of excess Dragon fury from Anam singed her nose. She rubbed at it, holding her horns out at the same time to gingerly catch him on his descent.
“Again, again!” Anam bounced from her right arm to her left. “One more, one more!”
“We have to keep going, Anam,” Mama said. “Don’t worry.”
“Oh, Madeline.” Papa gently flicked his tail on her neck. “One more won’t hurt.”
Mama shook her head. “
One more. And that’s all.”
<><><>
Do not neglect your own personal wills and desires. Remember that the purpose of life is to enjoy the bountiful world that I have provided for you. Let the Charizard learn to swim. Encourage the Rampardos to act delicately. Allow the Froslass to dance with the flames. And so long as this is done in moderation, they shall become stronger, and can experience more of the world they own.
—Book of Mew, Creation
“That was a very good recitation, Anam,” Mama patted him on the head, rubbing between his two feelers. He purred in reply, listening to her calm praise. “You got both Creation passages correct. A few of the words were a bit off, but I do not think Mew will mind.”
Anam grinned, but it faltered when he saw the black clouds ahead and all around them. This deep into the Dungeon, the impure corruption and decay permeated the twisted atmosphere. It was only because of Mama’s purifying light that it was safe for them to go so far inside.
Normally, Dungeon goers had to find ways around the decay, or otherwise face certain death. But for Mama, all she had to do was use her power a certain way and the darkness instantly fell away.
A thin filament of light spun around them, emerging from the center of her back. It created a spherical barrier with the filament twisting around it. The light pushed away the black mist.
Ahead of them was the Dungeon Core. This time, it was made of twisted woodlands that formed a spiral in the middle of a clearing of the forest. At the top of this crown of unnatural trees was a sphere of glimmering darkness, emitting small flashes of reddish-purple light.
Anam quivered. “Scary…”
Mama raised her right arm into the air. “There’s no need to fear, Anam. I shall take care of it. The wraiths are exhausted and all that remains is the Core.”
“Oh! Oh! Do the thing!” Anam spun and stared at Mama, eyes shining.
“Anam, that’s not—”
“Pleeease? It’s so cool!” He dug his face into her chest, tilting his head up so his gooey eyes just barely peeked out from her slimy, protective layer.
Papa shook his head, sighing. But he smiled, as did Mama.
Mama and Anam stared at one another. The former’s will was too weak. With a heavy sigh, she closed her eyes, opening them only after she got into a praying position, hands clasped together and tiny fingers entwined. Anam slid toward the top of Mama’s shoulder, opposite of Papa, and waited.
“By the power of His overwhelming benevolence, the grantor of the spirit and the light, purify this place and dispel its malice. Let Your radiance eternal cleanse this creation of darkness!”
Mama opened her hands toward the Core.
“Gather!”
The room around them darkened as if the very light surrounding them had faded away. Yet at the same time, Mama glowed, a radiant light flowing from her body and toward her hands, forming a golden, blinding sphere.
“Condense!”
The light sank into her hands, shooting through her arms like white-hot magma, glowing just beneath her skin. It channeled through her chest, frozen in place. It grew even brighter from the inside, threatening to explode out at any moment.
“Dispel.”
Mama opened her maw wide and fired the sphere—even larger and brighter once it left her body—toward the Core. It collided, forcing Anam and Papa to close their eyes and turn away. Even Mama had to squint. Waves of heat washed over them. The dark clouds evaporated. Finally, the light that had been taken away from the land returned.
“That was SO COOL!” Anam bounced on top of Mama’s head, then back to her shoulders, and onto her head again.
“I suppose it is,” Mama said, reaching up to grab Anam before he’d slip. With him carefully between her hands, she said, “Now, you won’t ask me to do that again? Giving a whole speech and showy display is really draining. I didn’t need nearly that amount of power to dispel this Core.”
“I won’t!” Anam grinned, eyes glowing again. “Not until you find another Core!”
Mama and Papa sighed.
<><><>
And Arceus descended from His throne to approach the soul that had scaled His eternal tower. Battered and beaten, is ember faded to nothing but a small cinder, and yet he still looked up to witness His wondrous glory. The soul asked, “Arceus, creator of Legends, why has my village fallen to ruin? Can You and Your great power restore it to its former glory?”
And Arceus, in His great wisdom, shook His head. “My power will not be wasted on a village that will wither away again. For the reason your village fell was due to its own lack of duty and discipline. They did not gather from the rivers and did not plant their seeds. And so, they were ruined.”
The soul fell to the ground, weeping. He begged and begged again, but Arceus was not one to rescind His divine wisdom. However, in His benevolence, and with His endless compassion, he said to the soul, “You have climbed my eternal tower, faced endless hardship, and now request only to save others. You are a noble soul. And for that, I will grant you one power. The power to save more than you ever could for your village. The power to save those noblest, just as yourself.” The soul bowed to him.
With a small fraction of His thousand arms, Arceus took the soul and shaped it into something new. He became Xerneas, the Lifebringer. And the humble soul, with His new power, descended back to the world of mortals. And there, He became a bastion for future generations, making the world bountiful forevermore.
—Book of Arceus, Life
The Goomy opened his eyes. In front of him was an audience of Pokémon of all shapes and sizes sitting, standing, or coiling about in a temple of white marble. Stained glass decorated tall walls and large seats filled the center chamber. Behind the Goomy was a large mural depicting three windows. The middle depicted a great beast of white fur and four legs, surrounded by large blotches of color. The right depicted a small, pink creature surrounded by a rainbow’s worth of tiny dots. The left frame was completely white.
The Goomy turned to his left, eyes beaming with overflowing joy and pride. His eyes asked, ‘How did I do?’
The Goodra next to him smiled, giving a nod. “Thank you, Anam,” she said, and then faced the others in the temple. “That was a wonderful rendition of
Life.”
“I did good?” Anam asked, bobbing his vaguely spherical body from the top of the polished marble podium.
“Absolutely,” the Goodra replied. She looked to the others. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Aw, the little kid would make Arceus Himself proud!” shouted a Breloom.
“You’ve got a talented kid, Priestess!”
“Thank you, but really, Anam has been practicing that speech very dutifully. Any of you could do it with the same sort of effort. Isn’t that right, Anam?”
“Yes! Dutiful!” The young Goomy bobbed again.
“But that will be all for today, everyone,” the Priestess said. “Let us all now stand in prayer for the Three Divine Spirits.”
The temple went quiet then, all Pokémon lowering their heads and bodies, eyes closed. From above, a great, metal bell boomed slowly, each time sending small shockwaves through Anam’s body. His soft form jiggled with each one, every ring of the bell filling him with a sense of purpose and life. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and released it on the third and final ring. It was the sound that Anam always looked forward to, without fail. It gave him the energy to take on the school days, the chores, and all of the vegetables.
The sound faded into a dull echo after several seconds. All the Pokémon lifted their heads, eyes open.
“Thank you,” the Priestess said. “By His blessing.”
“By His blessing,” they all said.
By the time half of the audience had shuffled out, Anam’s mother suddenly jolted. “A-and don’t forget! Book of Mew in five days—make sure you read through
Passage of Ice!”
Weaving between Pokémon large and small, going against the flow of bodies and nearly getting stepped on by a Torterra, a Salandit scrambled to the clearer spots of the temple. “Madeline!”
“Papa!” Anam said, jumping off the podium. He landed on the ground with a
splat, followed by an “Oof,” knowing that his rump would probably be bruised from the fall.
Papa smiled. “I’m sorry I missed your passage, Anam. But I’m sure it was wonderful.”
“It’s okay. It went just as good as when I practiced at home!”
“That’s wonderful, Anam,” Papa said. “Madeline?”
Mama leaned forward, picking the Salandit up. There was a small piece of paper in his paws—though, considering his size, the paper dwarfed him. After settling on her shoulder, Papa held the letter as far forward as he could so Mama could read it. “We found another Dungeon. This one is quite old, so it’s very corrupt. We need to go in and bless the Core.”
“Hrm…” Mama rubbed her fingers together. “We do.” She read through the paper carefully, eyes meticulously scanning every word.
Anam tilted his body. “Where is it this time, Mama? Is it far?”
“Not very, it seems,” Mama said. “It will only be a few days. We’ll certainly be back in time for the next holy day.”
“We’re going on an adventure!” Anam said, hopping happily. “Yes! Yes! I get to skip school!”
“And we’ll make sure you get all of your homework before we go.”
Anam, both figuratively and literally, deflated.
<><><>
The creature screamed, begging and praying for safety for his village. He saw as his home fell beneath the merciless orange, glowing wave. The heat burned his body, and the bodies of all the others fleeing. And Mew, watching in horror, cried out to them to flee even faster, but that was simply beyond them.
And ultimately, when the villagers found nowhere else to go, they saw the lava slowly creep closer. Fur burst alight. Scales burned away. And feathers became naught but ash. And yet, as they all screamed, the villager prayed for forgiveness, for it was by their own sins that the village was now in ruins.
And then, Mew performed a miracle. With a wave of divine light, the feathers became imbued with fire. The fur harnessed the flames. And the scales grew bright. The villager’s tail, as a symbol of their eternal will, became imbued with pure, fiery energy—his spirit, and all of his descendants, would forever carry the ember of life. It was their second life, their second heart. And Mew told them, it was their second chance. For She believed that even with mistakes made, there is always time to repent and reclaim one’s purity.
—Book of Mew, Fire
The wood crackled softly in front of Anam, little embers dancing in the nighttime sky. Anam wiggled his little body, puffing tiny, precise scorch marks into a piece of paper in front of him with practiced ease. Little, simplified letters from left to right covered the paper with black scorch marks. Without hands or feet or even a tail, Anam had to work with weak Dragon Pulse strikes to burn his answers to the homework. Thankfully, it wasn’t too hard. They weren’t very writing intensive.
Every so often, Anam glanced up at his parents. Papa was reading a book by the fireside, gingerly turning the huge pages with his tiny paws. It seemed to be a story about a great adventurer, hunting for treasure in ancient lands. Mama was reading from another book, but Anam couldn’t tell what it was. The cover was blank.
“Mama? What’re you reading?”
“Hm? Oh, just a book, Anam.” She closed it, sighing. “I suppose I can’t say much about what’s in it, unfortunately.”
“How come?”
Mama opened the book to a random page, humming. She turned it toward Anam. “See?”
The pages were blank. Nothing. An empty, white canvas, wordless and without meaning.
“Huh?” Anam bubbled, confused. “I don’t get it. How come you’re reading a blank book?”
Mama frowned, turning it back toward her. She closed it again, setting it down, and then picked both Papa and Anam from the ground. The fire crackled after a stick fell deeper into the center of the pit. “I’m afraid it’s a book that only I can read.” She looked at the covers. “Nobody else can see its contents. Nobody else can even know what it says. I cannot read it to you.”
“Oh…” Anam frowned. “Is it because you’re a Divine Dragon?”
“I’m…” Mama sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve met other Divine Dragons before and none of them can read it. Only I can.”
“Oh.” Anam frowned, not understanding. But then it clicked. “Ah! I get it! You’re the
best Divine Dragon, and
that’s why!”
Mama chuckled. And this time, it wasn’t restrained. Her belly rumbled, her chest shook, and she brought a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Anam.” She pulled him close, as well as Papa, and gave them both a little squeeze. “You’re too precious.”
Anam giggled, pressing against her. Eventually, they settled into a cozy silence, only the crackle of the flames filling it. Anam stared at the fire, thinking about the passage they had read just before he’d finished his homework.
“Mama,” Anam said, looking up at her. “How come fire hurts so much?”
“Because it has a lot of energy, Anam,” Mama replied.
“Too much energy hurts?” Anam asked.
“Too much of anything hurts.”
Papa crawled next to Anam and curled around him. Anam nestled beneath his chin. “Too much food hurts, Anam. Fire can be both good and bad. We use fire to stay warm. But too much fire and we burn.”
“How come Fire Pokémon can live in it, then? Are they harmful?”
“Not in the slightest.” Mama settled down next to them, listening to the feral Kricketot sing with the beat of the campfire’s rumble. “Fire is hard to control. It is the duty of the Fire Pokémon to properly harness it.”
“But what about the ones that don’t?”
“Well, they have sinned. To misuse the power gifted upon you by Mew is a sin. They shall not be judged well both in this life and the next.”
Several beats of silence followed, punctuated only by the clicks and pops of the fire.
He looked down. “I sinned.”
“Anam?” Mama tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
Anam’s eyes watered. “I hurt my friend with my Dragon gift from Mew, and they hit another student. And then they both yelled at me, saying Arceus wouldn’t like me anymore.” He sniffled. “Is that true? Does Arceus hate me now?”
“Anam…” Mama frowned. “He doesn’t hate you. He could never, not someone as kindhearted as you. And you apologized, didn’t you?”
“I did! I did! I said sorry!” His mouth twisted into a desperate frown. “B-but they were still angry!”
“Did you blast them particularly hard?” Papa asked. “You have to remember your own strength, Anam. You’re much stronger than most kids your age.”
“Nuh-no…” He sniffed. “They also said I was dumb… that Arceus made me silly because he knew I’d be a sinner…”
Mama’s chest rose. “Excuse me?” Her green eyes narrowed. “Who told you this? Which friend?”
Papa glanced nervously at Mama, then at Anam. “What do you mean, made you silly, Anam? You aren’t silly at all.”
Anam sniffled. “I know I’m silly! I’m a silly-silly funny-head. They called me all kinds of mean words… b-but they’re words that I’d get in trouble for saying…”
As Anam spoke, small rocks rose around Mama, floating in the air. The ground rumbled. The campfire exploded with life. The little Goomy squeaked in surprise, hiding underneath Papa’s chin. That snapped Mama back to the night. The fire died down. The ground settled. The rocks fell.
Mama cradled Papa and Anam into her arms, holding them tight. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Anam,” Mama said. Her eyes were stern. “No matter what others tell you, you’re blessed. That’s what you are. You aren’t hated by Arceus
or Mew.”
“Even after what I did…?”
“You may ask for forgiveness,” Mama said. “You are remorseful of it, and for Mew and Arceus alike, that is meaningful. I am certain that they both forgive you.”
Anam blubbered again, pressing his face into Mama and Papa.
“Now we won’t have any more worrying about this,” Mama said. “I am positive that Mew would consider you one of the most adorable, affectionate, and kind Goomy to ever live.”
“Y-you think so?”
“I know for certain,” Mama said. “I’ve known Mew in the past. Just as I have known Arceus. And they both would never hate you, so long as you remain as you are today. Kind. Even if you hurt others, you understand now why you shouldn’t, don’t you?”
Anam sniffled, nodding.
“Then all is forgiven in the eyes of the Creators. Now all you must do is make it up to those among us, your classmates. You should do everything you can to earn their forgiveness, even if they themselves have sinned.”
“They sinned…?”
“They called you horrible things, did they not? Did that hurt?”
“It hurt a lot…”
“Then they have sinned. But it is not up to you to judge them for such actions.”
“What if they never forgive me? I’m supposed to forgive them?”
Mama frowned, looking down at the little Goomy. His eyes shined with one part confusion, two parts curiosity. “You can forgive,” she said, “but you must also remember in the future how they treated you. You may forgive and allow them the opportunity, but you should not forget until they make up for it.”
“That sounds hard… can’t I just forgive them?”
Mama smiled, rubbing Anam between his little feelers. “I just don’t want them to take advantage of you.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means, if you keep forgiving them, they’ll keep doing bad things to you, knowing you’ll just forgive them.”
Anam’s eyes widened. “They wouldn’t do that! That’s… that’s mean!”
“They were already mean to you,” Mama said.
Anam shook his body in protest. “No! That’s super mean! They aren’t like that!”
Papa interjected quickly, raising a tiny hand. “We just want you to be careful, Anam. That’s all.”
Anam sank, frowning. “Okay… but they aren’t mean!”
“Then perhaps they aren’t,” replied Mama. “I’ll give them a firm talking to when we get home.”
Anam shivered.
“But that’s for later.” Mama rubbed him on the head. “We should go to bed. We have a lot of traveling tomorrow.”
<><><>
The warrior passed through the final trial with ease. She had been faced with great darkness that poured out from her own heart, becoming a mirror of herself. Yet the copy’s malice overflowed. It craved destruction. The dark mirror bellowed at the warrior, “We shall rise to the top of the Creator’s Hall, strike Him down, and steal his throne!”
The warrior laughed. “It would be such a foolish attempt at His life. He is immortal and omnipotent, and I have no reason to kill.”
“Then why have you come, if not to fight?!”
“I want to fight. For it is my duty to be the strongest, to protect my village and my people. Those who threaten peace must be destroyed.”
The darkness roared at her. “Then you are afraid of Him!”
The warrior walked past the darkness, ascending to the Hall of Origin without it. The darkness roared again, screaming for her to stay down and fight with her. The warrior then turned around, reaching a hand toward the darkness. “Then come with me, so we may battle His glory not as enemies, but as friends.”
And so, the darkness was dispelled.
—Book of Arceus, Death
Anam frowned, looking up at Mama. “I don’t get it.”
The forest was starting to get darker even though it was early in the afternoon. The trees loomed above them, leafless, and the ground was dreary, gray, and muddy. Papa and Anam were held in Mama’s arms again, kept against her chest while she waded through the gray, rotten ground toward the Dungeon. Despite how corrupted the land seemed, they had yet to find a single distortion.
“Well, I’m not finished with the passage yet, Anam,” Mama said, placing a bookmark gently between the pages.
“I know, but… how come the darkness went away? That was the evil, mean side of her, right? I thought darkness gets destroyed!”
Mama smiled. “Darkness is inherent in all of us, Anam. We all have impure thoughts. The great warrior that scaled Destiny Tower’s ancient corridors wanted nothing more than peace for her home, and yet she still held the power of destruction in her claws.”
Anam gulped. “That’s scary… how come a peacekeeper is so strong?”
“It requires strength to maintain peace,” Mama said. “Don’t you remember, Anam? I’m one of the strongest Pokémon in the world. I can rival the Embodiments that are depicted in this very book. Do you think I’m scary?”
Anam shook his head. “No! You’re scary to others, though!”
Mama’s left feeler twitched. “Well.” Her eyes briefly darted left. “That’s good.”
Papa held a paw over his muzzle, stifling a giggle. “I don’t think you’re very scary, Madeline.”
Mama growled, making Anam tilt his body in confusion.
“Is Mama scary?” Anam asked.
“Not toward us, but to those who have darkness in their hearts. She only wishes to help others harness and control their darkness.”
“Control…” Anam frowned. “What’s my darkness?”
“Hmm… you are too young to know your own darkness,” Mama said. “One day, when you are older, perhaps you will see it. Then you can confront your darkness and learn to control it, just as we all must.”
“Oh, okay.” Anam jiggled and bubbled in thought. “…What happened to the warrior, Mama?”
“Well, that’s for next time.”
“Can you say it really fast?” Anam asked eagerly. “I wanna know if she’s okay! Is there a happy ending?”
“There is one,” Mama said, smiling. “The warrior confronted Arceus and asked for a sparring match against Him. But she was not given the chance. Instead, He made her battle the strongest Pokémon of his disciples, an Embodiment.”
Anam gasped. “Did she win?! Did the warrior win?!”
Mama stifled a laugh. “Of course not. Embodiments alone are far beyond the power of a mortal, and to fight one of the strongest? There was simply no way.”
“Who was the strongest?”
“It was an entity that did not truly have a name to call its own. Not a name that has been written down, at least.” Mama gently slipped the Book of Arceus back into her bag. “But it was known to us as the Divine Dragon.”
Anam gasped again, accidentally swallowing a bit of his own slime. He coughed for a bit, Mama patting him on the back to loosen some of the phlegm.
“Calm, Anam,” Papa said carefully.
“But, Divine Dragon!” Anam said. “Isn’t that what you’re called?!”
Madeline chuckled. “Yes, I am. We who lead the temples are named after that Embodiment, as the Divine Dragon was the first Embodiment to ever be created. Though, not many Divine Dragons today are very worthy of that title… Perhaps I can read that one next?”
“Yes, yes! I wanna read about the Divine Dragon!”
“Next time,” Mama assured him. But then her expression darkened. “We need to focus on this place, first. We’ve gone so deep, and yet we haven’t seen a single distortion.”
“Hmm.” Papa looked up. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the forward path the entire time. There simply hasn’t been a distortion. Yet it feels as if…”
Mama’s horns tensed. “I suppose, just to be safe, I should put up the Hand now.”
The tendril of light spiraled around them in a protective, radiant sphere.
“Then let’s keep looking for the distortion,” Mama said. “Stay alert, you two.”
“Mhm.” Anam looked to the left, then the right. He wiggled his horns, trying to emulate what Mama could do with hers, but no matter how he tried, he could never sense the life energy the way she could. “Mama, do you feel anything around?”
“Yes. Everywhere,” Mama said.
“Everywhere?” Papa asked. “What do you mean?”
“I can sense… spirits everywhere. Or nowhere.” Mama winced. “I can’t tell. It’s… it’s overwhelming. I’m—I don’t know what I’m sensing. There are too many spirits ahead that I can’t tell where it all is.”
“Perhaps we should turn back,” Papa said. “We should regroup for something else if your senses are getting overwhelmed and label this place as a restricted area. Spread the word as fast as we can. Perhaps we can find a Hecto?”
“As if I’d speak to him,” Mama growled.
“Madeline, I understand how you feel, but please… if we want to keep others from coming here—”
“Yes, yes,” Mama said, raising one of her horns since her arms were full. “Fine. If one happens to be around, I’ll tell him. Otherwise, I imagine he’ll try to play protector anyway and spread the word on his own.” She stopped walking, turning around. “Let’s—”
Ten, twenty—Anam didn’t know. Countless blobs of darkness of varying shapes emerged around them in a semicircle, completely blocking the way back through the gloomy forest. All of them shot beams of darkness toward the trio, and all of them carved partway through Mama’s radiant shield. The light flickered; Mama winced, stepping back.
“Were they waiting for us?” But even as she spoke, their numbers grew denser. “We have to get through them,” she said. The Goodra tensed her hands around Anam and Papa, ready to fire. “Ready? Now!”
The Salandit and Goomy opened their mouths wide, blasting a hole through the crowd of wraiths. Mama accompanied them both with a sweeping Dragon Pulse of her own. Blue embers carved through the wraiths, dissolving them into black clouds; Mama sped through the lingering Dragon fire, surprising speed defying her heavy footsteps that left imprints on the ground. A wraith lunged toward her weakened barrier, knocked away by the filament of light. It cut the wraith in two.
From behind, the remaining wraiths—about half of them left—blasted Mama from behind, further weakening her barrier. She kept running, spotting darkness ahead. She skidded on the ground—her slime doing her no favors—and made a hard right, avoiding that dark squad entirely. But more appeared several throws away, and then even more on her peripheral vision.
“What are these wraiths doing beyond a Dungeon’s perimeter?!” Mama said.
“They aren’t very strong, but there are too many,” Papa said. “Let’s just power through them. They can’t possibly go on for much longer!”
“Then ready another blast. Anam!”
“Yup!”
They rushed again, and the same exchange repeated. Dragon Pulses from the holy family, dark beams from the wraiths. Mama’s barrier had briefly disappeared completely, only the filament of light remaining. Excess darkness sparked against Mama’s body, turning lavender slime a deep purple. Mama squeezed Anam and Papa a bit harder, rushing past the ten-or-so wraiths that remained.
Mama cried out when they fired upon her from behind, most of them hitting her tail and her back. She staggered, struggling to keep up her momentum.
Then, another crowd of wraiths appeared a stone’s throw away from them. And then another crowd to their left, and to their right, and even in the diagonals.
Mama didn’t hesitate. She continued through, clutching Anam and Papa against her chest. Anam heard her labored breathing but realized that she was running faster. She seemed a lot lighter.
“Madeline,” Papa breathed, crawling onto her shoulder to cover the rear. “Where’s your tail?”
Mama didn’t answer. She kept running toward the wraiths, breathing another blast of blue fire at the forward crowd. The others that closed in from the sides fired volleys of dark blobs; with how far they were, it took several seconds for them to reach her. That was enough time to blast through the next cluster, but not enough to completely escape the dark explosions.
The forward wraiths shot at them. Mama had no energy left to block it with her light; the single filament had receded back into her body during the run. Anam screamed, but Mama doubled over, protecting him.
Papa wasn’t as lucky. One of the dark blasts struck Mama’s shoulder, sending the Salandit flying behind her. Mama screamed something, but the blasts were too loud, and Anam was smothered under her slime. Her heart pounded against his head.
Anam heard Papa scream—and then it was abruptly silenced. And then Mama screamed again. She spun around—Anam caught a glimpse of… something. He didn’t know what it was. It looked like Papa, but something was wrong with his body. Parts were missing, some liquid flowing out of where they should have been. It was a very dark liquid. Almost black. And the wraiths were around him. He was still moving. But then they gathered closer around him, and Anam couldn’t see anything anymore.
Mama made a single step forward, but then five more wraiths rose from the ground. She stumbled back a step. Anam screamed, firing a Dragon Pulse into the crowd, but it only took out two of them. Mama shook her head, turning around to run.
The wraiths had converged. Fifty, sixty? All of them several throws away, yet falling in from all sides. The dark wall thickened as more of them got closer and closer to one another. They covered the ground. At a certain point beyond their perimeter, there was more wraith than soil.
Anam couldn’t see through his tears. He trembled, “P-Papa… Papa! M-Mama… what…”
Mama put her hand on Anam’s head, rubbing between his horns. Her racing heart… it slowed. In a strange, twisted way, the forest felt quiet for only a few seconds. Anam looked up to see Mama smiling down at him. “Anam,” Mama said. “I’m… going to show you another miracle. But you have to play along. And this will make everything okay again.”
Anam nodded immediately. “Do it! Hurry, for Papa!”
Mama brought Anam up. Her grip with her right arm was a lot weaker, and she instead held him on her left. It was already rotting away from one of the wraiths’ attacks. She stepped toward the wraiths, even as the ones behind her, the ones that were ignoring Papa, blasted at her back.
“You have to say that you accept,” Mama said, slurring her words. “Anam, I Promise that I will keep you safe. Do you accept?”
Mama held her right, trembling hand forward, still using her left for him to balance on. Her right hand glowed with gold, the radiant light of miracles.
Anam headbutted her hand. “I accept!”
The light flashed between them and Anam felt a tiny spark of energy. His eyes glowed. “Yes! I felt it! It was a miracle, right, Mama? You made a super magical Promise, and now it’s safe!”
Anam turned around to look at the wraiths, fully expecting them to be gone by Mama’s holy light. But they were still there. In fact, they were even closer, almost within firing distance.
“M-Mama? It’s not safe! I—I don’t f-feel safe! Mama! Let’s try it ag—”
An overwhelming warmth jolted through Anam’s body like electricity. And then something new was there, deep inside of him, deeper than his body, somewhere inside his aura.
“M-Mama! I felt something! What was that?! That was so cool!”
The first thing Anam noticed was her wide, relieved smile. The second, the thick tears streaming from her face.
“Mama?”
“One last trick,” Mama said between sobs. “I’m sorry, Anam. This is scary for all of us. But I can make it better. One last trick. Hurry. We need to play Blaster.”
“Oh! Okay!” Anam said, knowing that Mama would never lie to him.
Mama raised her arm; Anam slid down, giggling when his back touched her mouth. “Ready… BLAST!”
Mama fired, propelling Anam high into the sky. He cheered, picturing the wraiths exploding from the shockwave that must have resulted from that power he felt course through him. That shockwave must have obliterated all of the wraiths with their game. It was all practice for moments like these. Mama was so clever. She planned even for when she was outnumbered.
But then Mama kept firing. The Dragon Pulse lasted a lot longer than usual. In fact, it felt like it was getting stronger. Happy cheers turned into terrified screams; he was too high. The fall would hurt from this high up! He couldn’t turn back for a while. He didn’t know how many seconds it was that the blast kept carrying him forward. It burned. He heard his own slime sizzling.
It finally stopped. Anam spun his body in the air, slowly, to see how far he had come. They were like dots. Countless, black dots in a huge circle. Anam saw something dark purple near the middle, but—no, that purple was gone, now. Where did Mama go? She must have escaped with Papa after the miracle. It didn’t look like the blobs were moving very much after all.
But—how was he going to land?!
The way he was flying, he was already out of that dead forest, heading instead for a large field just beyond it. He saw a crater with seemingly infinite darkness inside. His eyes widened—but he wasn’t going to fly far enough to actually enter it. Instead, he saw another forest near that crater with a similarly gray coloration.
The ground came fast. Faster. Even faster. “Uhh—uhh—” Anam opened his mouth, hoping that a Dragon Pulse would be enough. He fired, the propulsion of the attack slowing his descent significantly, but the ground still came.
He slammed into the dead soil.
<><><>
Trapped within the mountain, the helpless had no chance of escape. A seemingly endless wall of rocks sealed them within, and after the earthquake that followed, the villagers realized that there would be no hope of rescue. Another tremor and they would become one with the mountain eternal.
Mew called for them to escape, but they had no power. They had been exiled for their own wrongdoing, within a mountain where they could not harm others. And yet, helpless and begging, they became the most pitiful souls of all. They begged for forgiveness, for a second chance to make the world better, rather than worse.
And so, Mew, moved by their plea, performed a miracle. Their scales hardened, and their claws sharpened. Their bodies became imbued with a hint of the might of the Divine Dragon. And with their newfound power, they smashed through their rocky prison with ease and praised Mew upon their triumphant return.
And Mew warned them, should they ever misuse their power, more of their kind would be able to oppose them just as easily. By holding the essence of the Divine Dragon, they have also become vulnerable to that same power. And the revitalized souls praised Mew again, and promised to use their divine power for the good of the world.
—Book of Mew, Dragon
Anam opened his eyes to complete darkness. He tried turning his head, but he saw nothing no matter which direction he went. Something soft held him. That was the only comfort. He wiggled, trying to stand up, but he didn’t know which way was up. He whined and whimpered, and that was enough to make the soft thing holding him stir.
It rubbed his back, and then another one patted him on the head. Anam grinned, closing his eyes—not that it made much of a difference—and sighed.
It must have all just been a nightmare. But if that was the case, where was he? “Hello?”
No response. Instead, the softness that held him let go, setting him down on a fuzzy ground. He giggled, looking down. “You feel soft!” Anam bounced a few times, sinking partway into the dark. “Am I on your belly? Or your back?”
The air whispered around him, but Anam wasn’t sure what it was saying. Something glowed in the dark. It looked like an eye. More eyes, all around the Goomy, stared at him, like giant moons in the sky.
“Wow!” Anam beamed. “You’re everywhere! What’s your name, Mister? Or, um… Misters? Do you know where Mama and Papa are?”
The darkness continued to stare.
“Um, if you’re making motions, I can’t see them. I can only see your eyes, Misters. Is it nighttime?”
More silence. Then, Anam’s stomach growled. He shrank down. “Oof… I think I’m kind of hungry, actually. Um, Misters, is it okay if I find some food to eat?”
The eyes stared for a while longer, and then, one by one, they closed. Anam was left in total darkness again, but the softness beneath him stirred. He felt himself rising; hands wrapped around his body delicately. Almost on reflex, Anam nestled against them, nuzzling one of them. This one felt like a wing.
Something bright blinded him. He closed his eyes, wincing at the light. Cool air caressed his slime; he had forgotten about that, and how, in that darkness, there hadn’t been any wind. He finally opened his eyes—just a small sliver—and realized that it was actually evening. After the pitch darkness, even the dwindling sunlight was overwhelming.
After his eyes adjusted, Anam turned around. “Mister? Oh!”
It looked a lot like Anam, though a bit… expressionless. Purple cloth and drawn-on eyes made the majority of the thing before him, accompanied by little green circles to emulate Anam’s cheeks. It even had little, dangling horns on the top of the disguise.
“I know what you are!” Anam said. “You’re a Mimikyu! Aww, is that a disguise to look like me? Where are your eyes, huh?” The Goomy approached the Goomy-Mimikyu, eyes darting left and right for the latter’s. “Oh! It’s actually my eyes, too! Haha!”
Two pinpricks of white light shined from within the eyeholes, literally beaming at Anam. Then, a shadowy tendril from under the disguise pushed an apple toward Anam.
“Oh! Thank you!” Anam struggled with the apple at first, unable to grasp it on his own, though after a few bites, he had a good enough foothold over it. Juicy, sweet—maybe a bit of tang; Anam didn’t like that, but he had to be polite—and almost half his size. He swallowed; at the very least, it was filling, even after a few bites. “It’s really good!”
Mimikyu hopped once. Anam laughed, mirroring the gesture.
“Hey! What’s your name?” Anam asked.
Mimikyu tilted his disguise.
“Can you talk?” Anam asked. “Oh, or are you feral? That’s okay! I’m not mad or anything! A lot of feral Pokémon are really smart and friendly, I can tell!”
Mimikyu shook, shrinking down.
“Oh, you’re not feral? I’m sorry. Then how come you can’t talk?”
The little thing—it was only two-thirds of Anam’s height in its Goomy disguise—trembled with uncertainty. It vibrated, making a low humming noise, but that was all.
“You don’t know how to talk? That’s okay!” Anam said. “Do you know how to write?”
Another tremble.
“How about draw? No? Ohh! I should show you how to draw!” Anam nodded. “Oh. But I can’t draw. My Mom and Dad can, though, but I don’t have hands!” He laughed again, making the Mimikyu tilt his body to the right. “I can do scorch writing, though. But it’s okay. When I see them again, I’ll ask if they can show you how!”
Mimikyu bobbed again, this time so bold as to bump against Anam’s slimy body, the Goomy’s slime connecting the disguise to him even after they parted.
“Hey, wait a second. You made that disguise to look like me, right? Then you must be good at art!”
Mimikyu flinched at this, leaning forward.
“Yeah, art! Hey! Come on! I gotta find my way home so Mom and Dad won’t worry. Why don’t you come with me?” Anam turned around. “Let’s go! I can see Quartz Mountain through the trees! Oh, boy, that’s a long walk! But I’ll make it!”
All while he talked, the Goomy advanced into the dead forest and away from the black crater. Anam checked if Mimikyu was following; he was not.
“Mister? What’s wrong?” Anam asked, sliding back to him. At this new angle, he realized that a great shadow connected the disguise to the crater, inky blackness cascading off of a long tendril. “It’s okay! You can come with me!”
He shook his head, trembling.
“How come? What’s wrong? It’s okay! I know that your kind
look scary, but you aren’t bad at all! I can tell, mhm.”
But the Mimikyu shook again, and them, briefly, looked back. Anam heard whispers from the cave again, scared little whispers. He heard no words from them, only emotions. Fear, apprehension, nervousness, anxiety, and a whole slew of other words Anam didn’t know the definitions of.
“How come you’re scared to come out?” Anam asked. “It’s okay. As long as you’re with me, they won’t think you’re scary at all!”
The creature stared at Anam for a little while, and then looked back at the shadows of the crater. With a glow in its eyeholes, he drew the darkness from the crater, just slightly. It stirred like a vat of thick stew. Arms and claws and wings and tendrils, all ink-black, crawled out of the darkness. Individual eyes opened, staring at Anam, and then closed, coming from all over the strange creature.
The disguise briefly fell off the tiny part of the thing’s body, but he quickly tried to secure it back on. Not that it was hiding much; the disguise was nothing more than a finger puppet of this thing’s true form.
Anam, petrified, remained in place, a fearful smile frozen on his face. “H-ha ha… ha… n-not scary…! You’re not—”
The dark entity abruptly shoved itself back into the crater. Limbs and all other body parts disappeared into it, blending as a single pool of shadows once more. The ‘Mimikyu’ shuddered, slithering back into the darkness as well.
“W-wait!” Anam said. “No, I didn’t mean it! Mister, please! You aren’t scary! You’re just… different! That’s all!”
But he didn’t listen. He stood at the edge of the crater, giving one tearful look at Anam. He shook its body again. No, he was not coming.
“Can I at least give you a name?” Anam said, bubbling with worry. “Everyone deserves a name! I’m sorry that I sinned and made you feel bad! Can you forgive me if I give you one?”
The entity turned fully, staring at Anam again with forlorn eyes.
“Ummm…” Anam’s face scrunched up in concentration. “Your name is…” Another long pause, the green slime of concentration pooling around the Goomy’s general area. “Nate!”
Nate blinked in surprise. Just like that, it seemed that the dark body lit up. Not literally, of course—it was still dark as a moonless midnight—but Anam saw it.
“Your name is Nate! Do you like it?”
A stunned silence followed. Then, his eyes beamed even brighter.
Nate…
“Y-yeah! Nate!” Anam flinched. “Did… did you say something? I think I heard you say something, but I didn’t hear your voice.”
“Anam?”
Anam screamed and spun around. He didn’t even know who it was, only that this new voice was unfamiliar, and had come from behind. “M-Mom says I’m not allowed to talk to strangers!”
“…You have been talking to a stranger already.”
Standing in front of Anam was a green-black canine that Anam had once only known from legends.
“Um… m-maybe.”
Zygarde bowed toward Anam. “My name is Hecto.”
“Hec-toe?” Anam repeated, frowning. The name was familiar, but he didn’t remember who said it. “That feels weird to say, sorry.”
The Zygarde stared, expressionless, while a cool breeze blew past them.
“Can I call you Toto?” Anam asked.
“…Hm.” Hecto turned around, walking at a slow pace. “I will be escorting you to Quartz Mountain, now. Please don’t wait. It can be dangerous at night.”
“Okay, Toto!” Anam slid after him, cheerfully humming a psalm into the evening sun. “Oh, and Nate, thanks for—”
The dark creature was nothing but the Abyss once more.
<><><>
Countless warriors entered and scaled His great tower, and countless warriors failed to reach the top. Many, whose souls were impure and hungry for power, never returned to the mortal realm again, taken away for purification by His divine light. And for each warrior that entered, the observer at the bottom of the tower took note of each one.
When the observer himself finally climbed the tower, he reached the top with ease, not because he was powerful, nor because he was studious, but because he had already gained the favor of His divine blessings. The observer requested with great formality and politeness to ascend the echelons of the pantheon, just as the few successful warriors have.
Arceus granted him his request. And by His divine power, the observer of the tower became the observer of the world. He is everywhere, meant to watch over as the world’s balance ebbs and flows, and vowed to step in when balance must be restored.
—Book of Arceus, Balance
“That’s about you!” Anam said.
The sun was low on the western horizon, setting after a full day of travel. Anam had fallen asleep on Hecto’s back at some point during the trip home, and by the time he was awake, Hecto had a set of berries for Anam to eat on the way back. They had cleared the forest through the night, and during that trip, three more Zygarde accompanied Anam’s escort.
That had been followed by a long trip where Anam chattered with the Zygarde about his parents and his teachings, repeating over and over different passages from the Books as he recalled them. He knew that if Mama was around, she’d probably correct him about some of the words that he got wrong, but he knew that she’d be able to correct him later.
“Did I say it right? Were you the observer at the bottom of Destiny Tower? Zygarde, Embodiment of Balance?
“Hm. I am Zygarde Hecto. I perform observations and, when needed, I step in.”
“Step in? How come you stepped in for me?” Anam looked at the four Zygarde, balanced atop the central one. “And how come you’re all here? How many of you are there?”
“One hundred,” Hecto said. “There was a time when, at most, only ten of my kind could maintain themselves at once. But I have since bypassed that limit.”
“Through Arceus’ divine blessings?” Anam asked.
“…Yes.”
And past the forest, Hecto now climbed a rocky path up Quartz Mountain. Black rocks filled their vision, only giving way to the blue, cloudless sky.
“Mister Toto, I never told you where I lived,” Anam said. “How did you know?”
“I observe.”
Pokémon appeared near the top of the crater’s entryway, where an artificial break in the mountainside had been made to allow for easy passage. Anam squinted, the sun obscuring his vision, but the shape was unmistakable. “Hey, look! It’s Auntie Tyranitar! Hi, Auntie!”
Tyranitar blinked, quickening her heavy pace down the path. “You… you’re… are you Zygarde?”
“We are,” said the lead Hecto. “Do not be alarmed. I am merely stepping in, as is my role, to return Anam home.”
“Stepping in? But you are only to do that if… something terrible had happened.”
“Something did!” Anam suddenly said, causing the three Hecto behind him to suddenly stare at his back. Anam met their eyes with a wide grin. “Mama and Papa got attacked by wraiths! But it’s okay because when it got really unsafe, Mama gave me some power and threw me far, far away so she can go all-out!”
Anam turned back around to address Tyranitar—as well as the silhouettes of Pokémon that were just by the town’s entrance.
“Oh, I see,” Tyranitar said with a sigh. “Thank goodness you’re okay, Anam. We were worried about you. And my
son has some apologizing to do, too.”
“He does?” Anam asked, but then flinched. “Oh! Oh. Um… and I want to apologize, too.”
“Nonsense,” Tyranitar said. “Zygarde, Your Holiness, do you know when Anam’s parents will be back? We can’t have another holy day without them!”
“Mama said we would be back in time for one.” Anam nodded, but noticed that Tyranitar’s eyes were more focused on the Hectos behind him. He watched her expression darken. For just a moment, the Goomy felt an icy pit in his stomach. “Or m-maybe they’ll be back for the next one, since it was a really scary mission! With lots of wraiths to fight! But they’ll be back. They’ll be… they’ll be back… right?”
“Anam…” Tyranitar looked like she wanted to say more, but then stopped. “Why don’t we take you inside? I’ll… I’m going to spend the night with you for now, so you don’t have to sleep alone.”
“Oh, okay!”
They led Zygarde awkwardly through town. Anam saw many familiar faces; the kids at school, the temple goers, even the village guards. They had all come out to marvel at Zygarde’s presence, and Anam wondered if the image of him riding atop his back would signify anything to them. After all, Mama was an incredibly holy person. It wasn’t too much of a surprise that Zygarde would come to help bring him home while she was out on an important mission!
Tyranitar played with her claws nervously. “Zygarde, Your Holiness.”
“Hecto is fine.”
“Y-y-yes, Hecto.” Tyranitar cleared her throat. “About Anam, what…”
“The Divine Dragon passed on her power to her child. You will not be able to force it out, but that power is now with him. Take that as you will.” Toto lowered his body. Anam hopped off.
“Thank you!” Anam squished his body on the ground in his form of a bow.
He left, leaving Auntie to frown at Anam from above, crossing her arms. “So, you have your mother’s blessings, do you?” she said. “How are we going to train you to bless Dungeons?”
“I’ll figure it out!” Anam said, bouncing. “And once Mama comes back, I’ll give her that power back! Then she can give it to me again when I’m ready for real!”
Anam jumped cheerfully each time, jiggling against Auntie’s tail. She led him along a rocky path into a small building next to a rise in the crater’s terrain. There, a pair of Larvitar watched Anam enter. He shied away at first, avoiding their eyes, but then shook his head. “Um—I’m sorry!” he said. “For… for hurting you before.”
The left Larvitar flinched, but then nodded. “Mom, how come Anam’s sleeping with us today?”
“Tomorrow. Please, go back to bed, Rora. It’s late for both of you. Anam, you can sleep in my room tonight.”
“Okay!” Anam grinned, sliding through the doorways.
It was a strange ceremony to bring Anam to bed. One without any words of thanks to Arceus or Mew for their gifts of life that Anam was so used to each night from his father, or the gentle songs and cool touch of his mother. But that was fine. It was fun getting to sleep over at a friend’s place!
The next part of the ceremony was getting Anam a simple bed. It wasn’t the coziest, just some extra leaves put together. At first, it irritated his sensitive skin, but once he flattened it out and coated the bed in slime, it became much cozier. Then, they gave him some water in a small bowl. He always struggled with water. Without arms or legs, he had to lean over the bowl, but he was adept at such maneuvers by now.
And finally, Auntie placed her hand over the small torch near the back of the room, putting it out. “Good night, Anam.”
“Good night, Auntie.”
Anam closed his eyes, bubbling silently with thought. It was so cool! His mother and father got to fight the wraiths, and they were blessing that Dungeon, even as he settled into bed. He hoped they wouldn’t be too mad that he had to be thrown out for them to do their work alone. Those wraiths were really scary, but Mama always knew what she was doing. Papa got hurt, but it wasn’t the first time. They were a team. Mama needed all the help she could get, and the three of them, together, provided what she needed.
But she’d be fine without him for just one mission. Mama was the strongest of all.
A bunch of evil spirits were nothing compared to them.
Mama and Papa were fine.
They’ll come back.
They always…
That night, Anam didn’t sleep.
<><><>
The villagers struggled between endless waves of droughts and storms. Seeds washed away and crops dried out until nothing remained of the village but dusty fields. The villagers had nothing to call their own but the dirt under their feet. Huddled together, they were a pitiful sight for Mew, who had graced them with Her divine presence.
They smiled at her, saying that there was nothing they could do. They were sorry that Her holy bounty was not properly harnessed by their power. Mew, with eyes filled with tears, watched the life drain from their eyes just then. Her presence gave them peace in death, but Her will was not for them to perish.
She instead granted them a new power, the ability to live off of the life of others. Their bodies lost form, and they became the closest creatures to the ethereal realm. Alive, yet familiar with the world of the dead, they lived under the ground, and Mew encouraged the living to donate their presence to these new creatures so they may thrive. And should they misbehave, the righteous of their own kind should regulate those who misuse their ethereal powers.
And so, this generation of spirits with bodies, in essence no different than all life, lived on. And they thanked Mew and Her presence, Her grace, and Her endless mercy.
—Book of Mew, Ghost
“Um, hello?”
Anam jolted from his restless mumbling. “H-huh?”
At the entrance to his room for the night long gone was a Larvitar.
“Oh, um, hi, Rora.”
Rora wobbled over and climbed beside his bed. “I’m really sorry.”
Anam shook. “It’s okay. I hurt you, too. Does it still…”
“No, it’s fine.” Rora showed Anam his shoulder. There was a small scar-like blemish on his rocky hide, but nothing more. “See? Doesn’t even hurt. Besides, now I look cool! Dad said that every scar has a story. I’m gonna have a really good one for this one.”
Anam couldn’t smile, leaving Rora to sit in awkward silence. He drew back, looking outside. Several seconds passed where nothing was said.
He could still see Papa struggling against the wraiths. He had been still moving.
Moving. He had to be alive. And Mama, she’d launched him away because she had to fight at full force. And that might’ve hurt him. So she was just going to fight the best she could, and then she’d be back home. And… and…
The hard body of a Larvitar wrapped around Anam, stubby arms struggling to get any sort of comforting hold on his squishy body.
“M-Mama… Papa…” Anam squeaked. He kept repeating their names, pressing his body against Rora. “Come back… come back!” Sniffles became gasps. Gasps became sobs. Anam didn’t know when it happened, but at some point, his wailing drew the attention of the villagers outside. Where he was resting, he could see their prying eyes through his tears. Some watched helplessly; others had their hands clasped or heads lowered in prayer.
Rora was with him through it all, holding him no matter how loudly Anam cried. He didn’t say anything. Anam wondered if he even knew
what to say. The Goomy certainly didn’t. Words were beyond him. But his throat, and his energy, was limited, even with the new power that Mama had given him before she sent him away. He eventually was reduced back to sobbing silently, ever grateful for Rora’s presence.
Anam’s sensitive sense of hearing did him no favors. He heard Toto and Rora’s mother speaking.
“. . . lost even my copies that scouted the area. If I couldn’t make it, then without a doubt, James and Madeline are—”
“Shh, we’re close,” Rora’s mother said. “I—I’m sorry, Zygarde. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“No. I understand.”
“Dad, I’m bored…”
That was an unfamiliar voice.
“Shh, we need to be respectful.”
Rora’s mother again? But that didn’t sound like Rora’s brother talking.
Two Tyranitar, an almost exact copy of the other, entered Rora’s home. Each one hauled books supplies that Anam instantly recognized.
“H-how come you have Mama and Papa’s stuff?” Anam blubbered. “Y-you stole from them? G-give them back! Or—or Arceus and Mew will—they’ll—”
A little Charmander carried a set of books over his head, gently setting them down next to the two significantly larger hauls. He put his hands to his hips proudly, puffing a little ember of triumph with an ‘I helped’ smile.
“Anam, we’re just moving their things here,” Tyranitar said. “They’re… yours, now. Your parents would have wanted it that way.”
Anam sniffled, jumping out of his bed. The fall lacked grace; he had been still and sobbing for so long that he’d forgotten how to move. He tumbled onto his face, grunting and snorting, and then slid toward the book piles. “A-all this s-stuff… they’re… they’re for Mama and Papa when they come back. I’m g-gonna keep it all nice and s-safe.”
“Anam…” Tyranitar winced.
Toto’s ears flattened.
The other Tyranitar, who had a blindfold over his eyes, frowned. “Actually, about that,” he said. “I was… wondering if I could offer to—”
“For the last time, that’s not on the table,” Tyranitar said immediately. “Madeline never said anything about you before, you… what was your name, again?”
“Eon.”
“I’ve never heard of that name in my life. And I’m afraid that right now, Anam needs the village. I can’t let the new Divine Dragon go with you.”
“You don’t understand,” Eon said. “I’m
also a Divine Dragon. I
knew Madeline! We used to be friends!” He held out his hand, revealing a filament of light. The same sort of filament that Mama had…
“That’s just like…” Anam stared.
“Now do you believe me?” Eon said. “I want to take Anam home. I came as soon as I heard from Zygarde. Madeline would have agreed.”
The Charmander sat by Anam, tilting his head. “You’re Anam?”
Anam sniffed. “Y-yeah.”
“I’m Owen.” He held out a hand, grinning.
Anam sniffed. “H-hi, Owen.”
“Oh, sorry.” Owen retracted his claws. “You don’t have hands. Um…” He held up his hand instead. “High five?”
“High… five?” Anam squinted. “What’s that mean?”
“Uh… I dunno. Dad says it a lot, and when you do, you tap your hands togeth—oh. No hands. Um… I know.” Owen gently tapped Anam on the forehead. “High five!”
Anam blinked. Owen’s grin was infectious, a tiny smile twitching at the side of the Goomy’s mouth. “H-high five…”
Tyranitar stared at Eon. “Madeline warned us that not all Divine Dragons might be for our best interest,” she said. “You could easily be lying to me, you know. Or better yet, why aren’t you friends any longer? Why have I never seen you until
now, hm? But I know a good way to prove whether you’re one to trust or not.” She walked to the pile, shuffling through the books. Anam tilted his head when Tyranitar picked out a book after just looking at the cover. He saw some letters, but he couldn’t tell what it said. “Read this.”
“What?” Eon said, grabbing the book. “I can’t see, you know. If I take this blindfold off, I might accidentally transform.”
“What? Can’t you just control your transformations, or are you some sort of incompetent Ditto?”
“No, it’s—look, I can’t help it. I’m cursed or something.”
“A cursed Divine Dragon? That sounds promising. Take it off, concentrate, and read.” Tyranitar’s voice was suddenly imposing, making Anam shrink away. Owen did the same, his little flame dimming.
“S-scary,” he and Anam both said.
Eon grumbled, slipping off the blindfold. He stared at the book, eyes concentrated, but then blinked. “What kind of joke is this?”
“What do you see?”
“It’s blank.” Eon ruffled through the pages. “This whole book is blank!”
“Then you aren’t someone I can trust just for your Divine Dragon status. I’m sorry.” Tyranitar took the book right out of his hands. Eon flinched, snarling—but that flash of anger quickly subsided. He breathed slowly, tying the blindfold back on. “Well, if… that’s how it will be, then can I at least visit now and then?”
“That’s for the village to decide. Right now, the new Divine Dragon is
our responsibility.” She nodded at Anam.
“You’re a Divine Dragon?” Owen asked, eyes glowing with wonder. “Wow! And you’re a
real Dragon, too! That’s the coolest, Anam.”
Anam smiled. “I think you look pretty cool, too, Owen.”
Eon grunted, head low. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
“You may be a Divine Dragon, but you aren’t anywhere near as holy as Madeline was. I doubt Zygarde would allow you to do anything
rash either… and don’t think we’re without Arceus and Mew’s divine blessings, either. If you try to take Anam away from us with your false righteousness… well, the gods will decide who wins that battle.”
Owen gulped, shivering. “D-Dad…”
Eon and Tyranitar stared one another down, even through the blindfold. He exhaled through his rocky nostrils. “Come, Owen. Let’s go home.”
Owen hopped to his feet. “S-sorry, Anam. Maybe we’ll see each other again!”
Anam watched him go. With his size, he seemed to be no older than he was. But before he could say anything more, they were gone. He looked at the book Tyranitar held. “Um… Rora’s Mom?”
“Hm? What’s the matter? I’m sorry if they frightened you, Anam. This must be a very hard time, and… you’d rather be here with your friends than with some stranger, right?”
Stranger. That’s right—he hardly knew Eon. Even if he had the same power as Mama, it wasn’t the same. Anam deflated. Rora’s mother really saved him there, didn’t she? Still…
“Can I see the book?” Anam asked.
“What? I’m sorry, Anam, but only your mother could read it.”
“But I see letters on the cover.”
Tyranitar flinched. “You—you do?”
“Mhm. Mama… I think when she gave me her power, the one that Arceus and Mew gave her, maybe… maybe that means…”
Tyranitar stared. “You… really are the new Divine Dragon.” She lowered the book, opening it to the first page. Anam read the passage, but Tyranitar heard none of it. Rora didn’t. Toto didn’t. Nobody did.
Nobody but Anam.
Once, there had only been darkness in the world. There was an energy missing, an energy needed to spark the miracles that the gods were capable of. And so, with my divine power, I gave your souls a way to manifest among the world of the living. Your souls, now inhabiting golden spirits, can attach to the body, and create the aura to properly harness your birthright. You now hold a piece of my divinity. Use this power to forge your own path.
—Book of Light, Creation
