Special Episode 6 – You Promise
Sunlight filtered through stained glass and onto the Pokémon congregation in the audience chamber of a pristine, white temple. Long, large seats covered the majority of the room, only half-full. At the front was a Goodra, riddled with countless scars and old, old wounds. He recited off of a book—this time, the Book of Arceus—to the audience, which seemed to be paying attention, or at least feigning it.
Anam shut the book a moment too quickly, sending a cloud of dust into the air. He suppressed a sneeze, wincing at the particles that stuck to his arms and chest. That was going to take a long time to get off…
His single, green eye scanned the temple audience. Two Tyranitar sat at the front seats, grinning at Anam when he finished, though the left one looked like he had just woken up. Off near the middle-right of the audience were two other Pokémon, standing up at the sound of the book closing. Near the back corner was a group of younger Pokémon quietly chattering with one another, stopping only when they realized the Goodra had stopped talking. They glanced nervously at one another.
“Thank you all for coming!” Anam said to the handful of Pokémon. “We’ll have another holy day in twenty days!” Because five days was too often nowadays. “I’ll make sure to put notices up on Quartz Square when that day comes! See you, and thank you!” He waved, though half of them had already shuffled out. Anam kept smiling until everybody left.
All but one of the Tyranitar. “Hey, Anam!” He waved him down, lumbering across the aisle.
“Hey, Rora,” Anam said. “Did I do well? I think I made some of them a little bored…”
“I think you did great.” Rora patted Anam on the shoulder, careful to avoid a new bruise that had formed from his last dive into a Dungeon. Rora brought his hand back, slime connecting it to the Goodra’s shoulder. “You didn’t stumble over your words or anything.”
“I know! I did so well that time! I just wish there were more people!” He lunged forward, and for just a moment, Anam saw a flash of terror in the Tyranitar’s eyes. In a caring embrace, Anam heard the slime squish between them. “Thanks for listening, Rora. I know you heard that story a lot.”
“Y-yeah… that’s great… real great…” Rora slowly pulled away, wincing at the many strands that tied them together like some twisted sense of fate. “It’s always good to hear the story again. You notice new things, you know?”
Anam grinned, stepping through the temple doors and into the afternoon sun. He breathed through his nose, opening his right eye. He tried to open his left, but it didn’t quite work.
Rora winced. “Are you alright?”
“Huh? Yeah, why?”
The Tyranitar looked away. “It’s just, a lot of those injuries seem really painful. You’re more scar than skin.”
“Oh, it doesn’t hurt! Well, this one does, but that’s because I just got it from the last blessing.” Anam pat his shoulder gingerly, rubbing at the darkened bruise. “And Goodra scar easily, remember?”
“You need to stop flying solo for Dungeons.” Rora crossed his arms and growled. “Your mother did fine because she had you and your dad to help cover her blind spots, but going alone keeps getting you injured one way or the other. And also, your Mom was
huge. I didn’t realize how big she was until I realized you, um… you’re smaller. Well, normal.”
“It’s not
that bad,” Anam said. “It was only bad once!” He held up his right hand, as if to bring up a finger, but it was missing. He hastily swapped for the other hand, which had a proper pointer digit. “How come you’re bringing this up, anyway?”
Rora tensed. “It’s… because we found another Dungeon that has to be blessed. But it’s… in Rotwood Fen.”
The color drained from Anam’s expression, but he held up his smile nonetheless.
“But we set that place as restricted,” Anam said, voice quivering. “Nobody’s allowed to go there.”
“I know,” Rora said. “But recently, someone got close to that place, and they spotted a wraith at the border of the forest. Further than it had ever gone before. And our scouts are saying that it’s getting a lot closer to the Chasm of the Void, too. And who
knows what’ll happen if those two come into contact somehow.”
Anam frowned. He hadn’t visited the Chasm in a long time. It was too close to Rotwood Fen, and it was such a long walk. Most fliers weren’t too keen on carrying him, either. Nate… hopefully he would be okay. He didn’t want the wraiths to get him.
“No,” Anam said. “I’ll go alone.”
“But Anam, that place was that
killed your—”
Anam abruptly brought his hands to his ears, loudly singing a psalm.
“O Arceus, let your light shine on—”
“ANAM!” Rora bumped his fist against Anam’s unbruised shoulder. “Stop. The wraith perimeter has been steadily moving toward the Chasm for a while. It’s getting too close. I know you keep saying that dark crater isn’t something we need to worry about, but what if the wraiths reach it, huh? What then? We have to stop it before it gets to that point. And I’m
not letting you go alone.” Rora turned around. “I got a bunch of us together. A squad of eight, plus me and you. We’re gonna be ready this time. But I need
you to be our figurehead, alright? Like always. Oh, and that whole divine protection stuff.”
Anam shook his head. “N-no, no. It’s not good there. It—it’ll be fine! We just have to keep praying to Arceus, and Mew, and eventually if things get bad, they’ll—”
“Anam.” A rumble echoed from the back of his throat. “Look, I know that you want to keep up that whole
faith thing… and I get it. You lead the temple, you want to follow your mother’s footsteps. But the Book of Arceus taught us that if we need to do something, we have to take action ourselves. The Book of Mew only says that Mew will help us once everything else is lost, and I don’t want it to come to that point. We can’t rely on them to step in. What ever happened to Zygarde, huh? He barely visits anymore.”
“H-he’s busy! He’s busy trying to summon Mew again!” Anam nodded fervently. “I saw Mew myself, and She could totally help us out when she’s at full strength! We just need to have more faith in her, and pray!”
“Is that what She told you?” Rora said. “Or are you just guessing that based on what the Book of Mew says?”
“Isn’t—isn’t that the same thing?” Anam said defensively. “Mew… told me that she just needs more time to help. That she isn’t needed yet. That’s all… so that wraith problem is just fine!”
Rora’s eyes narrowed. “We’re going to be at the entrance to Rotwood Fen in two days. We’re leaving tomorrow. If you don’t come, we’re going to investigate on our own. Now what?”
Anam froze. “Y-you can’t go in. You’ll… you’ll die.”
“Then you’ll come with us to help, won’t you?”
“No. I’m gonna go in myself, and—”
“We’re going in
no matter what,” Rora said. “
You will die if you go in. Your
Mom died. So, we’re going to back you up. I’m sick of you going in solo, getting hurt, and then smiling like everything’s okay. It’s not. Quit trying to act like God and let us help you.”
Anam stood still. He looked back at the bell tower—the bell itself had long since rusted into uselessness, but it was still there as a figure. He looked at Rora again, but he was already lumbering away.
“Rora, wait!” Anam said. “I’ll… I’ll go. But you have to promise to stay close! And to run away if it gets bad! Okay?!”
The Tyranitar didn’t turn around, but he replied in a yell. “Sure. But you’ll be running away with us!”
Anam nodded, but he knew that he still needed to prepare. While it would take a lot of energy out of him—and he wasn’t nearly as practiced as he wished he would be—he had to put some of those new, blessed equipment to use.
<><><>
“By the holy names of Arceus, and under Your divine power, may our travels be blessed and our paths clear. We ask for Your mercy and for our pure wishes to be granted. We beg for good luck today so that we may continue enjoying Your world and continue praising Your name in life. By Your divine light.”
“By Your divine light,” the crowd repeated.
Anam clapped his hands together. “Perfect!” He spread his arms out to them, accidentally creating a trail of green slime between his hands. “Are we all ready? Then let’s go in!”
Right behind Anam was Rotwood Fen, as dead as ever. The ground was gray and murky with a thin layer of unknown mud. The cold, heavy, humid air sent a shiver down half of the Pokémon in front of Anam. Among them were a few friends and colleagues of the Hundred Hearts—a small collection of fighters meant to defend the town and keep resources plentiful during its steady growth.
Rora led them, and he led this squad, now. “You got it, Anam. Lead the way and we’ll stay back.”
A Scrafty wobbled next to Anam, shuddering. “H-how unsafe is it? I’ll fight as hard as I can, but…”
“It’ll be fine!” Anam said, reaching forward to shake her hand. He tugged her forward for a hug, her short stature bringing her only up to the Goodra’s belly. “You’ll be nice and safe.” He held the back of her shoulders assuredly. “I promise.”
She nearly melted in his embrace, closing her eyes. Anam knew that she liked these hugs—even if the size was awkward, he wondered if it was his size that made her feel safer. She pulled away, brushing off the slime as politely as she could with a conjured veil of darkness. “I have faith in you, then.”
An Absol barked next. “Look, I’ve already got a really,
really bad feeling about this place, but it always feels a little better with you around, Anam. So… I’m gonna have some faith, too.”
A Linoone spoke up next. “But use that sixth sense of yours to tell us if something bad is coming.” He pawed at his ears. “Forget faith in luck, if you sense something bad, we need to bail.”
Others in the group murmured in agreement.
Anam nodded. “If something bad happens, I’ll go back and we can prepare more. That’s the promise, okay?!” He clasped his hands together. “Nobody has to die!”
“Then let’s go,” Rora said, marching forward. Anam went right beside him, raising his arm to summon his one tendril of light. It created a golden barrier around them, spiraling in a half-dome, and coated the ground beneath them in that same radiance.
They hadn’t walked very far at all before the familiar distortion of space, rippling and bending the light, flashed before them. Anam took a steady breath. “It won’t be easy to get out once we go inside,” he said. “I wish it was still just a normal forest…” But since the last time he’d come here, a Dungeon had formed. He’d have to use a lot of divine energy to break out by force.
“Just save enough energy for an escape, alright?” Rora said.
“Yeah. Okay. It should be easy!” Anam nodded, stepping through the Dungeon barrier. “The same energy I use to bless it, but… for us! Easy, h-ha…” Anam fiddled with his fingers again.
“Do you have enough energy for all of us?” Rora asked worriedly.
“Oh, definitely.”
“AaaAAA—I really don’t like the feeling I just got.” Absol shuddered, shaking her head furiously. “It feels like we’re already surrounded!”
“Surrounded?” Anam asked, gulping. They had entered the Dungeon only moments ago. Was that just the distortion messing with Absol’s perception? Or—
“Left!” Linoone shouted.
Rora slammed his foot on the ground; seconds later, a spire of stone pierced through a nearby tree. It shrieked, black matter erupting from its body. It evaporated into nothing.
“Trevenant…?” Cacturne said.
“No.” Anam gulped. “That was just something to look like one.”
“Wraiths… already…!”
“No time! Let’s go, Anam. Stay close! If anybody slows down, carry them! Okay?”
Anam stayed in the center of the crowd, making sure his radiant barrier kept everybody inside.
It didn’t take very long for more wraiths to show up, though most of them were deterred by Anam’s barrier. After just two of them, the rest hissed and sank deeper into the Dungeon.
“K-kinda wish we had those segments to the Dungeon right about now,” Cacturne said. “Can’t you bless it from here and stabilize the place?”
“N-no, I can’t,” Anam said. “Just be careful!”
“We’re still at the outer perimeter of the place,” Absol said, “and I already feel awful the deeper we go. I th-think we’re already being followed. And the atmosphere feels… twisted. I don’t know what’s going on here, just—”
The sun abruptly disappeared.
Three of the team screamed in surprise. Absol shook her head again, whimpering loudly. Anam stiffened, but it was Rora who shouted to the others. “Stay close, keep it together! Don’t leave the barrier!”
Whispers filled the air, yet they couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Anam swiveled his head around, horns flicking slime onto Rora, who shook it off and grumbled. “Anam, are you doing alright?”
“I’m sensing… something. But I can’t—”
“AAAAH!”
Anam spun around to see Linoone leaping into the air and onto Absol’s back, screeching and pointing at the ground. All heads turned below.
Eyes. Countless eyes in pitch-black ground stared up at them through the barrier of light that Anam had created, some tiny, some as large as Rora’s head. Tendrils poked between where the eyes weren’t, trying to break through the barrier. While their darkness dissolved, some of the light faded wherever they touched.
“They’re trying to eat through the floor!” Linoone screamed.
“Get
off me!” Absol shook him away. “Anam! Let’s hurry and get to the core! We can’t be
that far, right?!”
“I—I dunno!”
Rora stomped on the ground, forming another column of stone just beyond the barrier. The darkness persisted, but in the dim glow of Anam’s shield, they saw a handful of wraiths evaporate.
Without a word, they all sprinted along, the slowest of them falling behind. Linoone shouted for them to slow down, and while they did, that only made the stragglers panic. Scrafty was nearing the back edge of the barrier by the time Anam slowed down.
A team of wraiths lunged at Scrafty, piercing through after only half of them evaporated. The other half latched onto Scrafty —she screamed, flailing against them. A dark swipe evaporated another, but two still remained, eating into her skin. An Armaldo hopped back, slashing at one of the remaining wraiths. The other one kept dissolving her left arm, only for a Golisopod to wrap his claws around the misshapen blob, tearing it away.
“Get away from her, you—” He tried to tear it apart, but it suddenly changed shape. Spikes covered its body, dark points melting Golisopod’s chitin. He yelped and threw it away, but it stuck to his arms, flowing into his blood. Then it lunged at Golisopod, enveloping his face. He screamed, muffled, but by then, Anam had finally arrived.
One touch from his tendril of light evaporated the wraith completely, but the damage was done. Golisopod’s chitinous armor had decayed, both eyes rendered useless.
“I—I can’t see,” he stuttered. “Anam, I can’t—”
Another scream, this time to the left. Flareon’s leg was caught by a series of tendrils. In mere seconds, his entire lower half was enveloped in melty darkness, threatening to pull her into the ground. It was only by the quick thinking of a nearby Nidoking that Flareon hadn’t been consumed entirely. He grabbed him by the forepaws, and Rora followed next, grabbing his midsection from the other side. The darkness lashed out at both of them, stinging their hands, but Flareon was freed—though most of the fur on his lower half was gone.
Flareon opened his mouth to speak, but then passed out.
More eyes leered at them from the ground, and now even more from above. The group shrank to the center of the barrier, injured and burned, as the light that protected them slowly faded. To keep the barrier strong, Anam had to shrink the barrier’s radius. The eyes closed in, hungry.
“This… this isn’t how it was supposed to go,” Anam said. “I… I had to… I had to save you! M… Mama… P-Papa…”
“Anam, don’t lose it now,” Rora said, holding his shoulder. “If we can fight this off, we can still escape.”
The light was a dim flicker.
Rora rumbled. “One attack. Just one attack, okay?! Everyone! WITH ALL YOU’VE GOT!”
The whole group, aside from Flareon, blasted the darkness with their strongest attacks. Rora aimed to his right, blasting a thunderous beam of light energy from his maw, sweeping his head to the side. The Hyper Beam dissolved a good chunk of what was ahead of them. Scrafty slammed her good arm on the ground, sending waves of darkness in all directions to sting and dissolve as much of the wraiths as she could, even as the returning rot ate away at her arm.
Golisopod stretched his arms out, forming a barrier of his own that enveloped the whole team; immediately after, Nidoking gave a quick nod to Golisopod and jumped in the air. He landed hard, shattering the ground around them; all of the ground-bound wraiths dissolved, while the squad remained protected by the Wide Guard. Anam handled the rest in the sky, sweeping his Dragon fury across the blight.
Suddenly, from chaos, came silence. Rora fell to one knee, wheezing. Scrafty nursed her arms. The others panted, feeling their residual injuries. Linoone inspected Flareon worriedly, but he was breathing.
The silence only lasted for a few seconds. The whispers came back. Without the sun, there was no telling if they were near or far.
“No…” Scrafty squeaked.
Golden light coursed through Anam, readying a second attack, no matter what it took from him. He raised his hands. “Get ready! I’ll—I’ll hold them off!”
Green light shined above them. Anam blinked. “What?”
Hundreds of beams of green light rained down from the sky, briefly illuminating the dead forest around them. There were wraiths everywhere – in the trees, on the ground, by the rocks, and right next to them. Yet the Thousand Arrows pierced through them all, bouncing off of Anam’s barrier at the same time.
In the green light, Anam saw the flickering image of a great, green-black serpent. “Toto!” Anam whispered.
“Wh-what a miracle, Anam!” Cacturne said.
Absol whimpered, shuddering. “Too much… it’s too much…!”
Anam winced, biting his lip. Absol was right. This was far too much. They had to go. Half of them were too badly injured to keep fighting, and the other half wouldn’t last long before suffering the same fate. They needed treatment—Flareon especially.
“Absol!” Anam rushed toward her, but stopped short of touching her fur—he knew she didn’t like that from his slimy body. “Did it feel like there was anybody watching us before we entered?”
“No,” Absol said, holding her dirty paws over her head, as if it was pounding. “No, and now that I’m in here, I just—I just
know that we are. They were all inside here, waiting…! And now we can’t even get out! Th-they feel so much stronger in here… and…”
Anam nodded. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I can handle this, alright? Watch. I’m gonna do some magic that’ll make this all okay.”
“A—a miracle? Now?” Absol asked.
The other eight in the crowd watched Anam curiously.
“Yeah. It’s a secret technique. Super special secrets!”
His audience cringed.
“Show us,” Rora said. “Anything to make this easier.”
Anam closed his eyes. He breathed in. His horns twitched; wraiths were near, but they couldn’t get through his radiant barrier. Not yet.
“By Arceus’ holy light and Mew’s divine mercy, bring safety upon my friends, who are not so blessed as to have your power. Grant them safe passage through the Dungeon, so they may escape and—”
Rora’s eyes bulged. “ANAM!” He lunged at the Goodra, holding him by the shoulders.
Anam sniffled, bopping his snout against Rora’s. “
…Escape and live another day.”
The light intensified. Anam squeezed his hands together; little bolts of lightning zapped all nine of his friends, giving each one a little, startling jolt. All except for Rora.
Rora couldn’t say anything for a few seconds. Little golden specks of light flickered beneath their feet for everyone but Anam. Tears—Anam didn’t know what they were from, anger or panic or something else—formed at the corners of Rora’s eyes. “Why—”
“Bye, Rora. I’ll be back soon.”
The nine became balls of golden light and shot through the sky, higher and higher. Wraiths tried to strike them from the air, but their radiant protection was too strong. The dark creatures evaporated upon contact. Rora’s spirit rumbled at Anam, but no words came. Far, far away… then, a flash in the high barrier of the distortion. And then, they were gone. Safe.
Anam looked back at the dim, green glow of the serpentine Zygarde. “Toto… you showed up!”
“I step in when necessary,” Toto said. He came closer, but then Anam’s eyes widened. Toto’s scales were already partway decayed; his natural glow, faded. Entire portions of his tail were missing, oozing a strange, translucent-green fluid out of his wounds.
“T-Toto…!”
“This body won’t last much longer. Anam… you need to leave. I don’t have enough power for another attack like that.”
Already, the light from Toto’s body dimmed, leaving only gray hexagons that had once been white.
“B-but…!”
“I will be fine.” The giant serpent looked down. “Use your power to leave this place. It is too much for you.”
“But what’ll happen if it reaches the… where Nate is?”
“I do not know.”
“And… my parents. You said you monitor the aura sea. And you never found them.” Anam hesitated. “What if… what if they’re…” He looked back. “What if they’re still fighting?”
“I doubt they would be capable of fighting for so long.”
Anam bit his lower lip, Toto’s stoic indifference settling coldly in his stomach. “Well, they have to be somewhere,” he said. “I think they’re inside.”
“And you intend to join them?”
“I’m gonna save them.” Anam’s radiant barrier flashed. Then, it became solid again. “You’re too weak to continue. I’m gonna send you back.”
“Anam, you must leave. This thing might be trying to gather the Hands, and you have one.”
“Then I won’t let him have it.”
“Do not be so
childish. You can’t—”
Anam’s horn twitched. “I’m not childish!” He shoved the Zygarde back. Due to the sheer difference in size, Toto didn’t even move. But the tap was all he needed.
“Anam, you’re being childish at this very…” Toto’s body was awash in spheres of light. “That was very clever.” And then he was gone, flung out of the Dungeon like the rest.
<><><>
“Mew, by Your name, I request for your blessings, guidance, and miracles. While our travels have been filled with hardship and peril, we have not lost our faith in You. And we hope that we can continue for another day by Your radiant light, and may the darkness before us melt away. By Your divine light.”
Anam cleared his throat. “That one sounds really appropriate right about now.”
The deeper he went, the more the wraiths surrounded him. The eyes on the floor, and now eyes in the sky well beyond his barrier. His horns throbbed painfully, their mere presence like a sting across his whole body. He was getting close. And by keeping his barrier much closer to his body, it was a lot harder for these lesser wraiths to come close.
He’d come across a few stronger ones, but his Dragon Pulse dispatched most of them easily. The stronger wraiths had shape to them, vaguely resembling Pokémon, almost like imitations of what they were trying to mimic. He’d even come across ones that were almost exactly like their uncorrupted counterparts, yet were veiled in a shadowy aura, invisible to the naked eye.
Something was glowing ahead. Purplish and very weak. Compared to the infinite darkness around him, it was still too bright.
But then, one such example of a solid wraith appeared, right when the darkness was so thick that he could barely see a step past his barrier. The eyes all disappeared, which somehow plunged Anam into an even deeper darkness without moving him an inch. He gulped, feeling a new, powerful presence before him, rising from the ground in a black cloud.
Brown and green feathers wreathed in a dark aura greeted Anam. Cold eyes stared him down. Anam tensed, readying his Dragon Pulse, but something held him back. The weakest feeling in the back of his mind stopped the blue fire from escaping his throat. Instead, he stood there, chest puffed out, a blue glow bubbling through his neck.
The Decidueye hooted lowly. “Leave. Now.”
“No—blrghh.” Anam burped out half of his Dragon Pulse. Decidueye weaved to the right, dodging the flames that lit up the right side of his body. “Sorry.”
Decidueye brought a wing forward, using the other to draw an arrow from the shadows. “Leave.
Now.”
Anam gulped, staring the arrow down. The power that radiated from the tip threatened to pierce right through his barrier. “How… how come you don’t just attack?”
The wraiths whispered around them. Quiet whispers, incomprehensible sounds. For a while, that was all the noise that Rotwood Fen had. Decidueye’s arrow didn’t advance, and Anam’s flames had completely died.
“Are you their leader?” Anam asked.
“No.”
More silence joined the darkness. By now, even the wraiths were quiet.
Decidueye continued. “What do you think your friends are doing right now?”
“They’re safe. I sent them away.”
“Where do you think they went?”
“I—I sent them so they could go back to Quartz Mountain.”
“Only some obeyed.”
“What?”
“You should have known better than to come here. They are approaching, even now. Three of them. A Tyranitar. A Scrafty. A Golisopod. The rest fled with their lives.”
“They came back in?!”
“Of course. Because they knew you would die. And they wanted to save you.”
The darkness in Decidueye’s arrow intensified. Anam winced, his foe’s pull on the arrow growing stronger. The shadows darkened into something that was like becoming blind.
“You should have known that only the strong survive in a world of chaos.”
He let go. The arrow pierced through Anam’s barrier, the shadowy feather striking the Goodra in the chest. Anam gasped, immediately tugging the feather’s tip out. The clouds poured into the hole of the barrier, but Anam immediately closed it. His chest felt cold. He didn’t have to look down to know that the shadowy rot had spread there, but he’d been through worse. It was just going to become another scar.
Anam breathed out a plume of blue fire against the shadows, neutralizing them, but Decidueye already had another arrow ready. He fired again; Anam was ready this time, using the single tendril of light—a more solid part of his barrier—to deflect it.
“Tch.”
Anam retaliated with his first true strike, another beam of blue fire against him. Yet the wraith commander sank into the ground, two Decidueye appearing. But the aura on the left felt a lot stronger.
“That’s a good Substitute, Mister Decidueye,” Anam said reflexively.
The darkness in their auras weakened, making Anam tilt his head curiously. Had the wraith reacted to that, or had he lost his mind?
Perhaps he had. The darkness was back and even stronger than before. Decidueye hooted lowly, almost a half-screeching growl, and said, “And now only two are coming.”
“Wh-what do you—”
Anam heard a scream from behind him, far away. He gasped, spinning around, but then realized a split-second later that Decidueye would shoot from him behind. He jumped out of the way, narrowly evading a shadowy arrow that grazed his left arm. Residual rot darkened his elbow.
Another screech that was violently cut off midway. That one was Golisopod.
“ANAM!” the final voice cried, dripping with desperation. “ANAM, WHERE ARE—" And then, just as unceremoniously as the other two, he was cut off in complete silence. Anam couldn’t find his breath; it was like time had stopped.
“You did this to them,” Decidueye said.
It didn’t fully register. They were fine! The reason their voices had cut off so suddenly was simply because a residual amount of his blessings were still there. When they were defeated, they were ejected from the Dungeon, just like any blessed one would operate.
“Face the truth, Anam. You killed them. And here’s my proof.”
Three lumpy shadows emerged from the ground—crawling, struggling against the dirt. Moans escaped misshapen throats; decayed claws pushed the dirt away. Anam staggered back, falling onto his rear. “W-wait… no…!”
Their auras felt the same. It wasn’t some trick or illusion. Auras couldn’t be replicated like that so easily.
“Rora!”
Parts of the Tyranitar were missing, replaced by chunks of shadow that dribbled and oozed on the ground. His face was missing. Scrafty and Golisopod were no better, shambling forward as the darkness crept over them.
“Anam,” Rora moaned. “H… help…”
Anam gathered a golden light in his hands. “It’s—it’s okay, Rora! I’ll save you, I—”
Rora suddenly screamed, cowering away from Anam. The other two did the same, staring with wide, empty eyes at the divine light in Anam’s hands. The Goodra shook his head. “No, it’s okay! This will help you, it’ll—”
Anam hastily shot at Rora, but he jumped out of the way. Instead, it hit Scrafty, who had been hiding behind the Tyranitar. She screeched, flailing, and then she evaporated.
The Goodra’s eyes widened as far as they could go. “Where’d she go?!”
“I already told you it’s too late,” Decidueye said. “Her spirit belongs to the void. They all do. Everything does.” The dark aura spilled over, flooding the ground. Clouds ate away at Anam’s shield, or what little remained of it. The flickering radiance was only further weakened by the Goodra’s shattered will.
Rora trembled, more and more shadows covering his decayed body. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He slouched, as did Golisopod.
More wraiths emerged from the ground, these ones much more solid and defined than the blobs that he had encountered before. While they had some form, they were half merged, limbs and heads crawling over one another.
Yet it still nagged at him. This Decidueye’s aura felt
so familiar. And— “How did you know my name?”
Decidueye flinched. “They called you Anam all the time. Now this is your final warning—you’re going to leave, or I’m going to—”
“Well, I can’t leave
now! You took my friends!” Anam slammed his arms to his side. “Give them back!”
“They’re
gone, Anam.”
“Nu-uh, because they’re right in front of me!” Anam walked toward Rora, who flinched again at the light that got too close.
“The light will burn them, Anam,” Decidueye said. “I said
leave.”
The surrounding wraiths all whispered angrily. But their behavior was too strange, now. They weren’t blindly attacking, and one was even
talking to him. Wherever he was… the wraiths were under some kind of different control here.
“Please…”
“You saw what happened to them,” Decidueye said.
Moans filled the air. The bodies of Pokémon stared at him with empty eyes, calling his name. Anam shut his eyes tight, covering his face with his tiny hands. “No…! It’s… it’s not too late!”
Decidueye prepared another arrow. “At the very least,” he said, “you will join them.”
“Please… Mister Decidueye, I just want my friends. We’ll leave you alone, I just want my friends! We… we were going to save the world together!”
The arrow was taut, but he didn’t fire. “Save the world?” Decidueye asked. “I’m afraid the world is far beyond saving, Goodra. There is no law, only chaos. That is how the world has always operated. The strong survive. The weak die. Surely you know.”
“It doesn’t always have to be like that!” Anam said. While he spoke, the corpses kept piling onto him, digging into his flesh. He refused to back down and shook them away. “Just because the world is how it is, doesn’t mean it will always be that way! We can make it better! I can’t do it alone… but with all my friends… just think of what we can do!”
Decidueye let go of the arrow and it struck through Anam’s chest.
“Ughh—” Anam tried to grab it, but his strength left him. He tried to breathe out, and then in—barely, he managed. He tried again, bringing his arm forward weakly, wrapping his fingers around the feathery, shadow arrow. Anam tugged at the arrow and pulled it out completely; he focused, dizzy, and felt the heat from a seed in his bag. The mystical glow enveloped him, and then the wound—and all of his recent injuries—vanished. The corpses shrieked, blinding by the brilliant light of the Reviver Seed.
“What was that—?” Decidueye hissed.
Anam struggled to his feet. “It’s something that I’ve grown for a long time. A Seed, imbued with a power so potent that it can bring you back from the brink of death! I learned these arts long ago… from the Book of Light. From Necrozma’s teachings in them. But… but it’s still not good enough. It didn’t… work when my friends were in trouble next to me. I need to make them better. I…” Anam stumbled forward. “If I could just find Necrozma, maybe I could… but nobody hears me when I say his name…”
Decidueye scoffed. “Apparently I can’t hear the name, either, because I didn’t understand a word of your fragmented speech. So. You created a seed that can heal you in an emergency. That changes little. I’ll just kill you twice.”
He shot at Anam again. The Goodra pulled the arrow out and grabbed an Oran Berry.
Decidueye hissed. “Really, eating, at a time like this? You insult me.”
Anam swallowed it whole, and the wounds vanished.
The Decidueye glared. “I’m beginning to notice a trend.”
“My name is Goodra Anam…” He held his head up, staring straight at Decidueye. “Head and Founder of the Hundred Hearts…” He pointed at the ghostly avian. “I’m fighting for the world. And I… I
refuse to die because you’re afraid to change it!”
The moans quieted down. Soon, only the wind filled the silence. Decidueye stared down at Anam with a scornful glint in his eyes. “Your eyes… I don’t know how someone can be so bright in a world so dark. It’s…
disgusting.” He glared, and then raised a wing. “Kill him.”
The corpses moaned… but didn’t move.
“Excuse me?” He raised both wings. “Have you lost your hearing? I said
kill him!”
The corpses ignored him. Their eyes were fixated on Anam.
“Nrgh, then I will just kill you myself. Nothing can revive you if you don’t have a mind!” James aimed for Anam’s head, but the Goodra didn’t even move. He just watched Decidueye. And he stared back. Between the eyes. The perfect shot. He just had to fire. He just had to let go… Let that spiritual bow pierce the Goodra’s soul, and sent him to the depths of this corpse garden. Just let go. Let go. Let go…
“What’s your name?” Anam asked. “Your aura… my barrier. Now that my barrier is gone, I…” He gulped. “I feel your aura so… so clearly. I’d never forget it. You…” Tears welled up, but they didn’t escape him. Not yet. “Your name is James.”
James’ dead heart skipped a beat. And that moment of weakness made the corpses rise up in a frenzy. Anam didn’t know why, or what caused them to do it, but he suspected it had to do with all the light that they were being exposed to. Could Necrozma’s techniques be working on them?
They climbed the trees and piled on top of one another, going higher and higher until one grabbed James by the ankle. He shrieked and fell into the pile, where they swarmed and slammed him into the ground, pinning him down.
“What—what are you doing?!” James said. “Stop! I am your
leader! Don’t fall for his lies! He knows nothing about this world! He is a mortal! He hasn’t seen death! He—what is—what are you doing?! No—! STOP!”
A few of the corpses were sliding something toward Anam. A gray orb with little white specks floating through it. All of the corpses seemed to be tied to this orb by thin, white, immaterial strings.
“What’s that?” Anam asked, reaching toward it.
“No!” James said. “Don’t you
dare! You are the
least worthy to harness this terrible power! The LEAST! I REFUSE you! I REJECT you! STOP!
DON’T YOU DARE!” James screamed unendingly, but Anam ignored it all. This was clearly some sort of key.
Wait… this looked familiar. Mama talked about it once, but it wasn’t in either of the Books. Not even the Book of Light spoke of them. Was that… an Orb?
Of
course. That’s where the spirits went. They were part of an Orb. But where was the Guardian?
“It’s okay, Papa,” Anam said.
“I—” James stopped. “I…!”
Anam reached forward, pulling James close. “I missed you so much…”
“Anam… please… get away… don’t let them take you…”
“It’s okay,” Anam said, squeezing tighter. “I’ll… be okay.”
He reached out and touched the orb.
<><><>
Anam bubbled curiously, squeezing his hands in empty air. “Huh?” He stood upright, but he couldn’t see anything around him. “That’s weird. I thought I was just touching the—”
“Hello.” The distorted sound was like countless voices speaking at once.
A tendril of fuzzy darkness, almost like tiny particles of dust concentrated together, slammed into Anam, sending him several feed backwards with a scream. Another one wrapped around his body, holding him tight. It squeezed.
“A-agh! S-stop!” Anam struggled, chanting weakly
. “B-by Mew’s divine blessings—”
“ENOUGH with your silly chants!” he squeezed tighter. Anam screamed, spurts of golden light from his single filament lashing out at the shadows.
“AAH!” The tendril swung, hurling Anam on the ground.
He splattered there, winded. With one arm, he tried to prop himself up. The ground didn’t feel like anything. Ethereal, almost. With his other hand, he formed a small blob of golden light, shining it in the air. All around him was the dim glow of a sky, both above and below him, specked with little, white stars. Somehow, Anam felt like those stars were watching him. Ahead, in this dark realm, he saw a sphere shrouded in black dust, pulsing with purple energy. The tendril that had grabbed Anam shrank back into the sphere.
The sphere rumbled, throbbing with waves of shadows.
“How did you make my spirits rebel?”
“Huh?”
“Your father, I understand. He was already resisting me. For a mere mortal… his spirit is stubborn. The moment you entered the forest, he fought back.”
“That’s because he’s my Papa! He’s super cool!”
Another rumble.
“Yet all of my other spirits… stopped as well. What did you do to them?”
Anam frowned, slowly getting to a sitting position. He wasn’t attacking anymore. “I, um…” Anam looked down. “I just wanted them to be happy… I wanted my friends back. They weren’t being themselves.” He looked up. “Can I see them?”
A hollow noise, like a deep bell ringing too many times, echoed from inside the core.
“No.”
“The spirits…” Anam’s horns twitched. “My friends… Papa… and… Mama!” He struggled to his feet, nearly falling over again. “They’re… they’re all inside
you!” Anam broke out into a wide grin. “I—I knew it! Can they hear me? Rora! Mama! Papa! It’s me, Anam!”
“SILENCE!”
A shadowy blast shot out from the sphere, straight to Anam. He had expected as much. He held his arms forward, creating a golden shield with his filament. He winced as some of the darkness licked at his shoulders and sides, but otherwise, the blast had been completely deflected.
Anam hobbled forward. “It’s okay. It’s—it’s okay! I’m here! And I’m gonna help! Because as long as I have faith, Mew and Arceus will help me!”
“Mew… and Arceus…” Despite having no features, Anam sensed the dark orb sneering.
“If they were helping you, none of this would have happened. Your friends wouldn’t have died. All of their hate… all of their resentment… I feel it all, Anam. I know it all.”
“I don’t understand,” Anam said. “My friends… they all liked me. They wouldn’t have come with me if they didn’t!”
“It was a holy obligation in their eyes. It was not for your friendship; I sense no love from them. Only begrudging duty and fear from their final moments alive. They only became close to you because of your Divine Dragon status. Only because of that single Hand in your possession.”
Anam flinched, shaking his head. “That… that doesn’t make any sense. The whole village… all of Quartz Village came together to help me! They wouldn’t have done that out of duty! Not
just duty! M-maybe a little bit, but it couldn’t have been…”
The darkness swirled again, surrounding Anam on all sides. He held the filament out, creating a protective barrier.
“I am the embodiment of negativity. Every cry of pain, every twinge of guilt, every deep, dark regret… I know every one. I feel every single one. Even you. I sense your fear. Your hopelessness. Your doubt.”
Anam’s eyes widened, realizing that this could be true. But the embodiment of negativity? That didn’t make sense, either. “Why would… why would you exist?” he said. “I don’t understand. A-and… I still don’t believe you. I think my friends cared about me. They wouldn’t have gone so far if they didn’t. Ever since I was little, they helped me. When Mama and Papa died…”
“They suddenly became nice to you.” The darkness pooled over Anam, obscuring his vision beyond the barrier.
“Because you were their power. They used you. It’s nothing more than that. You were useful to them, and so they befriended you. But if you lost your power, none of them would care about you. Just like before.”
“I… I…”
The shadows thickened.
“Close your heart and give up. It would be much easier to feel nothing than to realize how pathetic it is to cling to this façade.”
Anam blinked again, looking at his hands. They were trembling. Then, he looked at the shield around him and the darkness that threatened to pierce through the moment he dispelled it. “I don’t understand.”
“What do you mean?”
The Goodra crossed his arms, and then his horns. He focused in front of him, shining his barrier to clear up some of the fog. He wasn’t sure if this entity had eyes, or if he could see, or—well,
how he could see, but he wanted to make ‘eye contact’ anyway. “You’re just wrong.”
More hollow rumbling that shook the slime on Anam’s body followed. Then, he said,
“There is no way for me to be wrong: I feel what I feel. There is no point in lying. Because I feel your doubt, too. And your fear, and your confusion.”
“But…”
Another blast of shadows slammed into the barrier, and, briefly, that shield of light flickered, tiny holes leaking darkness into Anam’s bubble. He winced when some of that brushed against his body, seeping into his slime. He shuddered—it went deeper than his aura, like it tainted his spirit. He breathed slowly, concentrating on whatever inner light he may have had to push it out.
“If you’re so certain that your friends and family care so much for you… then I’ll just prove to you how wrong you truly are.”
Black lightning slammed into the ground, deafening Anam. While his ears rang, the darkness dispelled itself, making the black spirits fully visible.
“Papa!”
That was the first spirit, the Decidueye.
“R-right? Papa…?”
But he only stared, hate in his dark eyes.
“He has known my suffering for so long, and has lost track of his own sense of self, that he does not even remember his old body. He understood immediately how much his old life was an illusion. Or perhaps he willingly abandoned his form? The Salandit species… the males are useless. They shall never reach their full potential. Yet he was born into it. Such a cruel world…”
“That’s not true! Papa was very strong, and he was small! So it was really convenient! And Mama loved him!”
“Deny as much as you want. But you cannot deny it for the rest.”
More thunder boomed, and another wad of darkness formed where the lightning struck. This one shaped itself into a Tyranitar. “Rora…” But just like before, his eyes returned nothing but darkness. A shadowy aura radiated from his throat, threatening to blast Anam whenever he let his guard down.
“Rora regretted following you into this place, just like all your friends. All of their struggles in life, amounting to getting killed in a forest that you led them into. Years upon years, washed away in moments. And it’s your fault.”
“Rora, that’s not true, is it?” Anam said. “I’m sorry that I hurt you so much by bringing you here. But I’ll make it better! Just like I did with the Dungeons! And town, and… and the way you made it all better for me, too. Everyone at the village. I owe everything to them.”
“Pathetic. I almost feel pity. But not enough. Why don’t I show you what’s become of your beloved mother? The Divine Dragon you took over. Do you think she’s proud?”
Another boom formed a dark blob, coalescing into a Goodra nearly twice his size. Anam beamed, taking eager steps forward. “Mama!”
A dark blast slammed into Anam’s barrier, piercing straight through it. He screamed, a huge, dark blotch rotting his chest. He gasped, the barrier closing before more darkness could seep in, and struggled to keep his breath level.
The dark orb didn’t say anything at first. Then, after a strange hesitation, he said,
“That is what your mother thinks of you—that you’re weak. That you’re foolish. Don’t you see? Give up. There’s nothing left now that you’re within my domain.”
Anam rubbed his chest, staring worriedly at his fading barrier. Then he looked at Rora and his parents. All of them stared down at him, glaring. He could only see one thing in their eyes. The expressions were the same. But in what the entity called hatred, Anam saw something else. Those eyes weren’t filled with hatred or disappointment or disdain. If anything, Anam saw challenging eyes, like he could do better. He knew those eyes. Mama’s firm look…
She really was a lot bigger than he was. At least two heads taller, even as that blackened wraith. He could only dream to be someone as big and strong as her.
The darkness and rot faded from Anam’s chest quickly. So quickly that it surprised even the Goodra, who looked down, then at the barrier. “I… I understand.”
“Then lay your head down and accept your fate. This exchange has become tiresome.”
“You can’t feel the good parts.” Anam straightened his stance, giving the dark orb a firm look. His horns twitched, curling and uncurling. “You’ve felt negativity so long… that you don’t realize that there are good things in everyone, too. You don’t understand it.”
“I understand that such things are fantasies. Fabrications. Illusions to make living tolerable.”
“But that’s just
wrong,” Anam said, advancing toward Papa first. He smiled at the Decidueye, who continued to glare. “Papa, it’s okay. I’m gonna make it better, alright? I’ve… I’ve missed you so much.” He held out his arms. “I know it might mess up your feathers a little, but… can I… hold you? I never got to.” He laughed. “We used to be tiny compared to Mama, and now, I guess we still kinda are… but we’re still the same size, too! A little.” Anam had to look down, still. But they both still had to look up to Mama.
“Anam…” The Decidueye’s wings twitched open. Anam beamed, lowering his shield.
“You fool—they don’t want your silly hugs. You disgust them!” Papa’s body abruptly disintegrated into a black fog, returning to the dark orb.
Anam yelped, grasping at where the Decidueye wraith had been, but then looked at Rora, who similarly disintegrated. Then he looked at Mama, but she remained standing.
He forgot to put up his shield again.
Clearly, the darkness had been waiting for that moment, because a dark, misty arm wrapped around Anam’s body, lifting him like he was nothing but a hollow Pecha Berry. Anam writhed in his hold, the tendril eating away at the parts that it touched until it became a thick, black sludge, oozing onto the featureless ground. The Goodra gasped, kicking his legs uselessly.
“If there is one emotion I know well, it is denial.” The red eye in the center of the orb flashed.
“How self-destructive creatures become when they deny the obvious and throw themselves into the abyss. They see nothing but horror, and yet they march forward, happily, to their deaths. To me. To the abyss.”
“It’s… it’s all to help each other. The world… is good… because we help each other.” Anam wriggled out from the darkness’ grip, but he could only accomplish a few inches. “The Book of Arceus… teaches us to be dutiful… to do what we can for the community… and the Book of Mew… teaches us how to care for ourselves. If we just—HRGK!”
The pressure redoubled, threatening to snap Anam’s bones and crush whatever was left of his muscles. Anam couldn’t move them anymore.
“Your faith? Is that what you rely so heavily upon? With my countless spirits, do you really believe I am ignorant of every word within those texts?”
Anam wheezed, staring at nothing.
“Blind faith is nothing but thinly veiled denial.”
“No, it’s… it’s not just… They’re real… They’re here to help… Mew gave Pokémon their Types… so they could help others. Arceus created the Embodiments to ease the powers of nature. It was all for us… They all care so much for us! And—and they can care for you! Please! There must be a way to—AAAH!”
The darkness tightened even more, crushing a number of bones that Anam could no longer comprehend. He screamed; something metallic pooled in the back of his throat.
“You naïve child. Do you not understand that they are all mere stories?”
Anam kept screaming, gagging on his blood before the pressure loosened. He felt warm—something in his chest made the tendrils back off, but only slightly. Anam struggled for air; this felt worse than normal injuries. This was his aura. And the darkness was trying to break his
spirit. He couldn’t let that happen. He had to save him. He had to save his parents. But what was he supposed to do? Arceus and Mew—would the help him, just like in the books? “Arceus… Mew… save me…”
“Disgusting. Even now, you deny your reality, even as it digs into you.” The tendrils tightened, burrowing past Anam’s skin and muscle. Somehow, as an aura, it felt worse. The darkness was rotting his aura and polluting his spirit.
“H-help…”
“The Book of Arceus. The Book of Mew. Those grandiose tales of the gods being heroes for the mortals they lord over… Who wrote those books? Do you believe the gods to be reliable writers of their own histories? No. The gods did not write them. The Books are nothing but constructs generated by power-hungry mortals to keep the masses behaved.”
Anam heaved, his vision blurry. He could only hear the darkness’ words, now. Everything else was fading.
“How convenient that a god wants order for society to fall in line. How convenient that another wants the masses to be content with what they have. How easy it must be to control a world when an invisible force watches over them.”
Anam coughed, gasping wetly for air. “S… stop hurting me…”
The darkness advanced, sinking fangs and claws into Anam from all sides. He screamed, but the darkness hissed into his ears.
“No. They aren’t just stories. They are all lies.”
Something hot flew past Anam’s right side. Then, thousands of screams deafened him, and Anam fell to the ground, his broken body lying on its back. He coughed, staring at the final trails of dragon fire leaving Mama’s mouth. The dark core floated backwards, a dark mist fizzling around him.
“You… DARE…”
“Don’t forget, Anam,” Mama said.
“Forget?”
But then Mama disappeared, and it was just him and the dark core again.
“And now you are alone.”
Anam squinted, the feeling in his body returning. And that warmth was back, too. He blinked at a golden glow flooding his vision; something from his chest. The Hand… The warmth! That was it! It was living proof of Arceus’ blessing. Was that what kept this darkness from taking him away like it did with all the others?
It all clicked. The light…
“You wanted me to be like you.”
“What?”
“You can’t kill me… you can’t do anything to me.”
“I have done everything short of that.” The tendril coalesced into a single, fine spike, hovering over Anam’s chest.
“Don’t force me to kill you. I will annihilate you.”
“Was that a lie?” Anam asked. “You… already would have. If you’re so negative… you just want to get rid of me. But you can’t.”
Anam’s body, all over, felt better. Horribly bruised, but better. He staggered to his feet, giving a polite nod to the spike that threatened to impale him. But it didn’t move. And that, above all else, confirmed it to Anam that there was nothing to be afraid of.
The Goodra’s body glowed like a single flame in a dark room. It was dim, but in the void, it was the brightest thing in that reality. Anam grasped the spike with both hands, squeezing it. “I just want things to go back to normal.”
“Let go of me.”
Anam didn’t listen, squeezing harder. “Please, let everyone go. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want any of this. I just want everyone to be happy—I want to go home. I want everyone to go home…”
“I said… let GO!”
The spike flew forward, through Anam’s slimy grip, and straight into his chest. Anam’s eyes bulged, but instead of blood, a golden light poured out of him. The core screamed and recoiled and the dark spike’s tip was reduced to a fine mist. It flailed in the air, slamming into the ethereal ground, and Anam tried to maintain his stance. His wound closed; the dark core shined slightly.
It shined? Anam tilted his head. “…Do I need to…” Anam moved forward slowly, arms outstretched.
“What are you doing? Leave! Get away!”
The sprits swirled around inside the dark core. He could practically hear them. Mama, Papa, Rora, and all his friends. So many lost souls waiting to be freed. He had already accepted that strange power once, before he had entered this void; it was rightfully his. He just had to do it again.
Anam touched the shell of the core, first. It sizzled against his hands, but it didn’t hurt. But the darkness screamed, trying to pull away, yet Anam was in control of this reality, now. This wasn’t the negative entity’s domain. It was
his.
He held it tighter. “Hold still.”
“NO! LET GO! DIE! DIE!”
The tendrils slammed against Anam’s radiant body, but without any despair, the darkness evaporated before it could so much as touch him.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! STOP! STOOOP!”
“Shh… I’m sorry. I need to do this. The spirits… accepted me. It’s only fair that… I take control.”
He leaned forward, staring at the great, red eye in the center of it all. He saw within it no expression, yet he could feel something, just briefly. Fear. This darkness was afraid of him. Was he already part of this negative entity? He’d never felt so intimate with such horrible emotions before.
“This… this world…” He thought of Mama. “I’ll make it better!”
He reached out to the core. His vision went white, and then in all faded to black.
<><><>
Dull thuds filled the air in random, occasional beats. They sounded wet, like a log slamming onto fresh mulch. Anam blinked and tried to rub his eyes. It felt like he was still in the void, but it felt like he had the most wonderful nap!
Unfortunately, he couldn’t feel his arms. Or legs. Or much of anything below his neck, actually. His horns twitched; he used one to wipe his eyes instead, yawning. It was odd; it didn’t feel like the air he was ‘breathing’ went anywhere. Simulated from familiarity.
The wet thuds continued; in the darkness, Anam thought to brighten things up a little. While the ground was still invisible, the individuals within the void brightened. He saw two, not including himself: the dark entity, still as an orb with a single, misty tendril… and himself? He saw himself lying on the ground; the dark tendril slammed onto his body, smashing it over and over again…
“Um, Mister? What happened?” Anam asked, trying to move his arms. Still no luck. He tried to move his horns instead—they were always stronger than his arms—and pushed his head up.
It was a lot lighter than expected. “A-ah! Whoa!”
He looked down, but he didn’t have a neck to look down with. Instead, he tilted forward, falling onto his face with a grunt. His horns twirled around and lifted him back up. “Ugh… I’m… I’m just a…”
He was just a head; the rest of his body was being slammed into the ground.
“So you’re awake. Wonderful.”
Anam gasped. “Hey! Wonderful? That means you’re happy, right?!”
“I am capable of sarcasm.”
“Oh…” Anam frowned. “Well, at least you know how to act like you’re happy! Kinda. Right?”
Slam. Bits of slime and goo flew across the void, splashing onto Anam’s face. He closed his eyes, opening one to see the tendril picking it up and tossing it back onto the ground. Anam realized—he had two eyes again. It was disorienting; he wasn’t used to having depth perception again. “Um, how come you’re beating me up?”
“I don’t know.”
“…But… why am I just a head?”
“At some point it fell off.”
Anam wriggled his horns until he managed to position them like legs. Anam’s head waddled a few paces closer, wincing at how beat up the body appeared to be.
His horn-legs bent and lowered his head down. He crossed his ‘legs’ beneath his chin. “Are you doing this because you’re bored? Is that a negative emotion?”
“For some reason, pummeling your body makes me feel less unhappy.”
“Oh…”
The tendril made a motion to strike one last time, but he hesitated. Eventually, it lowered, leaving the Goodra body where it was.
“I guess that means you couldn’t kill me after all.” Anam, seeing that the body was unusable, turned his attention back to the darkness. “But… I really did mean what I said. I want to help you. It’s not fair that you were born only feeling all those negative emotions. You should be feeling the happy ones, too. Maybe… I can show you some of that?”
“It is not like I have a choice.”
“Yeah, but maybe it’ll be fun! I’ll show you what it means to feel something like that! Because we’re together now, right? If I accepted the Core, and stuff, I mean. The Ghost Orb… and you! Um… actually, I don’t even know what to call you. Do you have a name?”
The thing hesitated in its next pound.
“I… I do not remember. I don’t know. I only remember waking up in fear, confusion, and sadness. I don’t know my name, if I ever had one. I simply… am.”
“Oh. That’s… that’s also unfair. You went all this time without a name?”
“It was not as if I ever needed one. I am… all of negativity. Do I even have an identity?”
“I say you do. Because I’m talking to you right now, and you feel like a person to me. So let’s name you!”
The ethereal darkness rumbled irritably, but didn’t protest.
“How about we name you… do you want a normal name, maybe? Or maybe we should call you something more exotic? My Dad was named something exotic, kinda like Mom.”
“Your mother was human. Her name is a human name. Their culture permeates Quartz. James was named by Madeline; he used to just be named, Salandit.”
“O-oh… um… I didn’t know that.” Anam blinked, looking down. “Humans… what were they like?”
“Not very different from Pokémon: Uselessly fighting to persist in a world where they will ultimately die.”
Anam frowned. “Let’s get back to your name, then. How about we call you… All?”
“No.”
“Then how about a normal name, like, um, Dariko?”
“Never.”
“I guess you want a special name, huh? Okay. I mean… oh!” Anam clapped his horns together excitedly, his head wobbling on the ground. “I have a really clever one! If you’re kinda like everyone, that means, when I’m talking to you… there’s a little bit of my thoughts that you can feel, too, right?”
“That is true. I feel all of your negative thoughts. I know that you are doing this for me because…” But he couldn’t finish. He just grumbled again.
“Tell me your idea, Goodra.”
“If you’re me, then when I’m talking to you, it’s like, I’m you! So… let’s call you, You!”
A brief silence fell between them in the void. Anam’s eyes widened with hope, but then he rumbled,
“I hate you.”
Anam lowered his head until it touched the ground again, his horns flexing. “I guess You isn’t a good name after all… Okay. Let’s keep thinking.”
It was quiet for a while after that, with Anam focused on trying to name his new spiritual companion. Eventually, the darkness rumbled again.
“Don’t you have some waking up to do?”
“Not until I name you.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because you deserve a name! You’re my friend now, right? I need something to call you.”
“…Friend?”
“Yeah! Have you ever had one before? You have a lot of spirits in the Ghost Orb, but not a lot of friends, I guess. Maybe we can try it out! I’m, um, your host, right? So I should be a very good one. It’s polite. And we can be friends, too.”
He didn’t reply.
“Hmm…” Anam studied his body again, seeing how dark it was. He wasn’t really sure what kind of material he was made of, either—spiritual in some way, probably. But that did give him an idea… “I don’t know what species you are. The first name is usually the species, but you’re just… darkness. That’s what you are. So what if your first name is Dark? And your last name is what people would call you informally. And since you’re made of everything… I mean… I really wanted you to be called You, so, um, Dark You, but I guess that’s stupid…”
“…Perhaps not stupid… but I refuse to be called something like that. I am everything. I am… the darkness of everything. That is… my identity.”
“You are everything…” Anam repeated this to himself, over and over, in little whispers. Then, he gasped. “Matter!”
“Matter?”
“If you’re everything negative, then that’s your name! Matter! Your full name is Dark Matter!”
“Dark… Matter…”
“Do you like it?” Anam could tell; something about that name resonated with this ball of evil, even if he didn’t want to—or perhaps couldn’t understand how to—admit it.
“I don’t dislike it.”
“Then that means you like it!” Anam clapped more with his horns. “Yes! You have a name, Dark Matter! Can I call you Mister Matter, though? Or just Matter?”
“Mister Matter. I refuse to be called so informally.”
“Okay, Mister Matter it is!” Anam giggled, righting himself. “I’m really glad that I could help you even a tiny bit, though. I’ll show you that the world can be a lot better than all the negativity you’ve been feeling. And maybe you can help me. Tell me about the negative thoughts that people have, and maybe I can help to make them better. If you feel less negativity in the world… then that means there would be more positivity to take its place, right?”
“…Do you truly believe it’s not an illusion? Positive emotions. They can’t be real…”
“They are. And I’m gonna show you. I’ll tell everyone about you, and then they can—”
“NO!”
Anam flinched, whatever he planned to say lost to the void.
“You cannot tell others. I… they will try to find a way to destroy me. And they will destroy you, too. You have no reason to tell them.”
“Oh…”
“I want you to promise me that you won’t tell them. I… don’t want that. And I will disrupt your every move if you refuse.”
“Okay—I promise,” Anam said. “I don’t want them to hurt you… that might hurt all the spirits with you, too. I want to make this better so… so you can release them, right? I’ll try my best. I’ll show you hope, and happiness, and warmth. Yep! So, I promise!”
“No. I need more. This is too big of a secret. I can control the spirits within me and make them forget; I cannot release them because… if I do, they will speak of me to the gods. And they may try to get rid of me, too.”
Anam frowned. “Do you really think they would? You… you said those stories are lies. Does that mean…?”
“They are only out for their own interests. Just as I am. But I do not want to be destroyed. That is surely what they will try to do.”
“But… but then what do you want? You want to be happy, right?”
Dark Matter didn’t reply immediately. It sounded like he was trying to say something, but then stopped, like he didn’t know how to articulate it.
“You said that being happy was an illusion, but… Are you sure? Or is that just… denial? You said you were the most familiar with denial. Because maybe… That’s what you’re doing, too.”
“I can’t be happy. It is an illusion… to me. It is part of my reality to be… negative.”
“Well, maybe I can change that,” Anam said. “Or maybe… Arceus and Mew can? Are the stories really… lies?”
Dark Matter growled.
“The stories are glamorized or outright lies. But the gods themselves… are clearly real. You already met Zygarde, who has ties to Mew. And yet… That changes nothing for me.”
“But what if their miracles are real, too? What if I told them, and they—"
“The gods hold the power to help me. Yet they do not. Because if they ever find out I exist… they will destroy me instead. They will refuse to help me. I’ve felt their negativity, too. I know this. They will kill me…”
Anam gulped, wanting to protest, but he seemed so convinced of himself… Could he be telling the truth? Or was it warped like the rest of his perception?
“If I want to be fixed, I must do it myself. With their own power. The scattered power, like what is within this Ghost Orb—the Hands.”
“What do you mean?” Anam asked. “You want… the Hands. This?” Anam made a motion with his horn, producing his single filament.”
“Yes. Anam… I need those. I must gather them. The very things that can destroy me can also help me. If I can get enough, perhaps I can rewrite my own reality. The same way Arceus had used them long ago to create reality itself.”
It started to piece itself together for Anam. While Anam suspected that not even Dark Matter himself knew
why he existed… it seemed clear that he wanted to change his fate. But, just to be sure, Anam said, “So you want their power, because…”
“I want the Hands of Creation so I can finally be happy.”
There it was. That was good enough for Anam. But at the same time, giving all of that power to someone like Dark Matter would be… risky. And if he thought that, then Dark Matter heard the thought, too. “I’m sorry…”
The sphere lowered in the void.
“It’s hopeless. I’ll never be happy.”
Somehow, seeing the giant ball of evil lament made Anam’s heart sink. Frantic, he said, “No! I’ll find another way! I promise! I’ll make the
world happier, and then, if you’re part of me, maybe you’ll start to feel a little happy, too. And I won’t tell anybody.”
“And would you make that a Divine Promise?”
The sky—the invisible, dark sky—rumbled lowly, getting Anam’s attention. The Goodra looked up, nearly toppling over from his imbalance of just being a head and horns. “What’s that?”
A dark tendril moved toward Anam, who lowered his head down so he could reach out to it reflexively.
“It means that should you break it, I would gain your divine power. It would be a way that I can be sure you will follow. Otherwise, I will have one more Hand to get closer to what I need. Because if I’m not convinced… if you fall into despair… Then you’ll accept that you were wrong.”
“Well, okay,” Anam said. “That sounds fair! And it’ll make you feel better?”
“…You will make a Promise to me? You will risk your power just for the chance to make me happy?”
“If that’s the only way you can feel better… then yes! Because I’m not just helping you. I’d be helping everyone. The whole world! And you’ll get to help me! Because what’s a better way to fix the world than to know everything that’s wrong with it?” Anam grinned. “Okay, I Promise! Oh!”
Just then, from Anam’s right horn, a glowing light erupted, twisting around the dark tendril of Dark Matter. The entity flinched back at first, but then floated forward. He was silent for a while.
Anam tilted his head, careful not to fall over. “Something wrong?”
“You’re really doing this.”
“Yeah! But are you okay with helping me?”
“Why?”
“I said why!”
“No. Why? The real reason.”
This again? Anam tried to be polite. “I don’t understand…”
The sky rumbled again, but then he reached forward and twisted the tendril around Anam’s horn.
“Then that makes the two of us. Restate your Promise.”
Anam frowned, but he did so. “I Promise to keep you a secret for as long as you help me save the world!”
The glowing brightened. Dark Matter said nothing, but the sky rumbled again. The red eye in the center of the shell pulsed anxiously.
“So long as I help you, the secret will be kept. And once I stop, you become free to speak of me to the others. Is that your deal…? How… one-sided. Your naïve faith… Of course a Divine Dragon of Light would behave this way… Why should I be so confused? I accept.”
The golden light blinded them both.
Slowly, it all faded, and Anam dared to open his left eye. He saw Dark Matter there, as usual, floating, with his red sphere gleaming in his protective shell. “Where are my parents?”
“With me.”
“…Can I… see them?”
“Not now. It would be… bothersome. But I will teach you how to summon them… and how to speak with them.”
“Oh… You’ll teach me?”
“I have to help you if you’re going to keep me a secret. That was the deal.”
Anam bobbed his head. “But what about all my friends? If I can summon them, then…”
“I will suppress their memories if you summon or revive them. It is not difficult since they are already under my control.”
That seemed satisfying enough. With a happy bounce, Anam said, “How do I go back out?”
“That should have happened a long time ago. Your spirit acclimated to the Ghost Orb and you should have woken up… but it seems that it was too much for your body. It must be sustained only by the Orb’s power and my own. You need to focus to wake up; I refuse to be trapped with you for eternity.”
“Okay, focus…” Anam closed his eyes, trying to sense through this void where his body was. It wasn’t much of an instinct or a feeling so much as it just came to him; it wasn’t anywhere around him, not above or below, but
afar. He found his body. “I think I see it.”
“I feel it, too. And—We have visitors.”
Anam felt it, too. The presence of two auras just at the edge of the pit he’d grabbed the Orb from. An Alakazam and a Chikorita. “Why are they here?”
“The Chikorita feels fear and disgust. Your body must be an awful sight.”
“And how about the Alakazam?” Anam asked. “Is he afraid? I should go and help them.”
“…I feel… nothing… from the Alakazam.”
“Nothing? Then he must be…” Anam gasped. “His soul must be pure! No negativity at all! That’s
amazing! I’m totally gonna—”
“No. A pure soul is impossible. His aura… was not forged in this world. Just like your mother… He is human. Or, perhaps… was human.”
“So you can’t feel the negativity from people whose auras weren’t made in this world?”
“…I do not know… That is only my theory.”
“Another human… wow. What’s his name? I wanna greet him!”
The darkness rumbled.
“From Madeline’s memories… he is Michael.”
“Michael. That reminds me of Papa’s name, in a way.”
“They are human names. As I said… their culture permeates this world in the smallest traces. But perhaps he will go by a different name. It has been… too long, since he had been human in any way, according to Madeline.”
“Well, I’ll wait for him to introduce himself.” Anam closed his eyes, golden light pouring from his head as well as his body a few feet away. Dark Matter shrank away from the light, grumbling something to himself. “And, Mister Matter…”
“Is that my name, now?”
“I just wanted to say… Thank you.”
Dark Matter said nothing. The golden light that flowed out of Anam became too bright to look at; he shrouded his shell in a dark fog, but even then, the light cut through.
“For helping me make the world a better place. And in return… I’ll find a way to make you happy.”
And then the light stopped. Dark Matter remained in the void, left behind again, but not without the smallest hint of Anam’s essence left behind—the link they now shared. And from it, Dark Matter felt… something new, for an instant.
“…Thank you…”