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Summary: This is the story of Midnight Silk, who tried to con her way out of death. (Written in response to the prompt: someone pulls their final con.) The lovely art is by @kintsugi.
When she came back to consciousness, she found herself in darkness.
"That was a close one," she said, wondering why she wasn't in more pain.
"Midnight Silk?"
The voice startled her. It had a distant, hollow quality, as if she were hearing the echo of an echo. She squinted into the darkness and made out a massive hunched shape, like a shadow cast by no sun. The shape shifted. Dim reddish light illuminated the chasm; the undersides of the stranger's wings glowed the hot red of magma.
"The one and only!" Midnight Silk called out brightly, unruffled by the stranger's fearsome look. "How can I help you?"
Silence from the stranger. As the glow from his wings spread, Midnight Silk noticed a huddled shape lying limp on the cavern floor. She pawed closer and found herself staring down at a body—covered with fluffy white fur, and very, very dead.
"Great Yveltal in the sky," Midnight Silk murmured, at last understanding why she felt no pain.
"Yes," said the voice from the darkness. "That's my name."
Now, Midnight Silk was a little taken aback to realize that she had died and that Yveltal, the Doorkeeper of Death himself, had come to collect her spirit. But even death couldn't faze Midnight Silk for long.
"Lord Yveltal?" she said, her voice still bright with artificial cheer. "What an honor! Would you humor me with a quick game of pebble and shell? I'm sure you'll have no trouble spotting which shell the pebble ends up under. If you guess right, I'll go along with you. If you guess wrong, though, I'll get back to my life."
Yveltal watched her as she approached her lifeless body and attempted to open the pack slung across it.
"You can no longer interact with the earthly realm," the Doorkeeper of Death said flatly.
"Silly me!" exclaimed Midnight Silk, undaunted. "How about a game of riddles, then? More than earth and water, the seed needs—"
"Xerneas." Yveltal's eyes had narrowed into turquoise slits. "I do not have time for these games."
"Time!" Midnight Silk said, starting to get a bit desperate. "That's right, you must not have much time at all, ferrying dead spirits from place to place. You're probably overworked."
Yveltal sounded puzzled when he said, "You're not wrong. Now if you're done talking, shall we be on our way?"
"What you need," Midnight Silk proclaimed, "is an assistant."
"An assistant."
"Yes! Someone to give you a hand, lighten the load, lend a friendly ear. Someone quick, bright, intelligent—"
"Intelligent enough to not fall two hundred feet down a ravine?"
Midnight Silk fluffed her ears as appealing as a spirit could and gave him her most charming smile. "As you can see, I'm not afraid to leap into the unknown."
She couldn't read Yveltal's expression. But at length he let out a long sigh and said, "Then come with me."
Yveltal's home lay on the dark side of the moon. Even Midnight Silk was at a loss for words when she first caught sight of his domain. The misty air parted to reveal a massive, twisting garden, though it was not a garden in the sense that Midnight Silk had previously known the word. Nothing grew. The trees—if they could be called that—jutted up with obsidian branches. Clustered like leaves on each branch were fragile crystals, gleaming with inner light. Their light was the only illumination.
"Life-stars," Yveltal said. "When they fall, I know the life has reached its end."
"Do I—"
Silently, Yveltal held out a small, lightless crystal. Midnight Silk took it with trembling paws.
"To reverse death is not in my power," Yveltal said. "I cannot give back life when it has gone. I would not wish you to remain here in that false hope. But if you sincerely wish to assist me, I—" Yveltal broke off and looked out over the garden. "I could use the help," he admitted.
Midnight Silk nodded solemnly, but she did not believe Yveltal. She was sure that she would find a way to regain her life eventually.
Yveltal set Midnight Silk the task of collecting fallen life-stars. It was dreary and time-consuming work. Finding fallen life-stars was no problem—they were everywhere—but bringing them back was trickier. Yveltal's home was a labyrinth. The paths changed without warning or reason, and sometimes Midnight Silk would wander for what felt like many days (though she had no sun to count them by) before she reached the central cavern where Yveltal slept.
On one such wandering, Midnight Silk found herself in a part of the garden she didn't know, where the air and fog were thicker. As she walked, she caught a glint of light—brighter than the dim twinkle made by the life-stars. She stepped and felt something soft under her feet. Moss. Midnight Silk looked down in amazement. Nothing grew in Yveltal's home. Yet this moss glowed an impossible green against the cold gray earth.
Midnight Silk crept forward through the fog until the source of the illumination became clear. A slender, crystalline horn, gleaming golden-white and studded by reds and pinks, lay on a roughly hewn dias. The air around it pulsed with warmth. As if in a trance, Midnight Silk came forward until she was almost touching the strange crystal. She felt heat flicker inside of her. Her hands closed around the crystal, not as a dream touching a dream, but as solid objects. Her heart thudded for the first time since her death. When she removed her paw from the crystal, the feeling of solidity vanished. She was a shade once more, just a thicker patch of mist.
This is it! Midnight Silk thought to herself. If she could steal this crystal and escape back to earth, she could live again! But how could she manage that? There was no way out of Yveltal's domain. And no matter how many times she asked, he never took her on his trips down to earth.
Midnight Silk touched the crystal once more, relishing the heat that flowed through her. The wind on her face, the sweetness of a berry, the bright sheen of gold—existence in Yveltal's domain left her craving them with a greater intensity than ever before. She stuffed the horn in the bag she used to collect life-stars and stowed it away in her sleeping quarters. For the first time since her death, she slept well.
"You have been of great help to me." Yveltal broke the silence abruptly, as Midnight Silk placed another bag of life-stars in front of him. "I know that my domain is not pleasant for the formerly living. If you are weary of this place, say the word and I will release you from my service."
"I'm doing fine," Midnight Silk reassured him, touched that the taciturn immortal had bothered to ask. It wasn't even a lie. Sleeping next to the crystal horn refreshed and invigorated her. Before her dreams had held only endless gray seas and darkened paths, but now she dreamed of wind-stirn fields of flowers and honey on her lips. "The work suits me."
Yveltal studied her with narrowed eyes, as if searching for any falsity in her words.
Midnight Silk opened her mouth to say, "Of course, it would raise my spirits considerably to see the earth again—" but instead found herself asking, "What about you?"
"What about me?" Yveltal gave her a puzzled look. "This garden is my home. Its properties grew out from my nature. I like it here."
"But are you—" Midnight Silk, uncharacteristically, fumbled for words. Yveltal slept in a bare stone cave, did his work, and little else. She had never seen anything like contentment in his face. "Are you holding up? Sometimes you seem—"
Listless. Depressed. Lonely.
None of the words that came to mind felt particularly tactful.
"I am perfectly fine," Yveltal said stiffly. He unfurled his wings and picked up the sack of life-stars. "Excuse me. I have work to do."
Midnight Silk watched him depart, frowning. She crossed her arms. "Be that way, then. Your emotional issues are none of my business. And as soon as I find a way out, they won't be my concern."
Midnight Silk didn't know it then, but her opportunity was to come sooner than she expected. As she wandered the garden she noticed a strange twinkle coming from the ground. Approaching, she saw that a life-star had fallen there, but still produced a dim light.
When she brought the strange life-star back to Yveltal, his turquoise eyes flickered with unease. He turned the life-star over in his massive claws and at last let out a deep sigh.
"I have a special task for you, Midnight Silk."
"You can count on me," she said at once.
Yveltal raised a massive claw to his neck and plucked two feathers. The feathers were black, deeper than the darkness, and hung in the air when Yveltal unclenched his claw.
"You must go to the domain of Xerneas," Yveltal said. "My feathers will aid you in this. They have the potency of distance. Simply pass your breath over the feather and speak your destination."
Midnight Silk's eyes widened as she stared at the floating feathers. Was it really that easy?
"Bring this life-star with you. You need not say anything. When Xerneas sees it, she will understand and do her duty."
If she could make it back to her quarters, grab the crystal—but Yveltal was watching her expectantly. Better to do what he wanted now. Later, when he was distracted, she'd steal a feather and make her escape.
She raised the feather to her lips, blew, and whispered, "Take me to Xerneas."
Brightness popped. Midnight Silk pressed her eyes shut against the surge of white that broke behind her lids into a dizzying storm of color. When she opened them, she saw that she stood in a brightly-lit meadow, wreathed with fruits and flowers of every kind. They grew impossibly—apple trees that bloomed yellow, green and red on the same branches, sunflowers that trailed off into poppies.
"Why hello." A voice rose like a bright, clear chord. "What are you doing in my domain, dead spirit?"
Midnight Silk swivelled and found Xerneas watching her with interest in her warm blue eyes. The life-bringer stood tall like a tree, and her head was crowned with crystal horns.
Midnight Silk found her voice. She puffed up her chest and cried out, "Greetings Fair Xerneas, Bringer of Life! I am Midnight Silk, messenger of Yveltal. Here is the message I bear." With those words, she proffered the life-star.
The life-bringer bent down her great head. Closer, Midnight Silk noticed a jagged area in her crown, where the crystal seemed to have been broken off. "I see. Thank you for bringing this to me. You may tell Yveltal that the issue will be dealt with."
"I will do that, Life-Bringer," Midnight Silk said importantly. She pulled out the second feather and brought it to her lips.
"Before you depart." A strain had entered the music of Xerneas' voice. "Perhaps you can tell me how Yveltal fares?"
Midnight Silk paused. "Sad," she said, before she could think better of it. "He always seems sad."
She blew over the feather. When she opened her eyes, she was back in mist and darkness.
"Well?" Yveltal demanded, bending over her.
"She said it will be dealt with," Midnight Silk answered. When he grunted and turned back towards his den, Midnight Silk called out, "Why did you send me, and not go yourself?"
There was a long silence from Yveltal. "I do not speak to Xerneas anymore."
"Why not? She—"
Yveltal's eyes flashed. When he spoke, his voice was low and strained. "She did something for which I could not forgive her. In return, I did something for which she cannot forgive me. It is very simple. And it is not your concern."
He unfurled his massive wings and took off over the garden. Midnight Silk hesitated, taken aback at the fury she'd seen in Yveltal's face. But curiosity overpowered her. She set off after him, following the red shadow of his wings.
Midnight Silk found Yveltal in a part of the garden she had not seen before, kneeling before a statue of a pyroar. The statue was made of the same black obsidian of the rest of the garden. But someone had smeared yellow dust and stained red berries over the mane, forming a red and yellow pattern. The colors had a dull, ugly hue—the mist wrapped unhappily around them as if offended by the intrusion of color.
"Yveltal?" Midnight Silk asked, edging forward.
He did not lift his head but at length he spoke. "Does the name Andorostov mean anything to you?"
"Y-yes. Legend says he was a great conqueror of the Storm Lands. A brutal tyrant and—"
"Beautiful," said Yveltal hoarsely, touching a talon to the face of the statue. "That's what I thought when I first saw him. One of his earliest victories. The dead lay thick as apples in a fruiting orchard and he stood, watching it all, his mane agleam in the red light of dawn. Magnificent.
"When I laid eyes upon him I felt a burning I had never known before. I asked Xerneas if she'd played some prank and set a star ablaze inside of me while I slept. She laughed and told me, 'Yveltal, you're in love.'
"So I was. I became his constant companion, though he never knew me, just my shadow over his battlefield. They began to whisper that Andorostov fought with the wings of Death himself, and I admit, hearing this pleased me.
"In time, his life-star grew ripe and fell, as it must be for all. His enemies rejoiced while his allies weeped, all of them but me. I quavered with anticipation as I landed to meet him. I told him of my admiration and invited him to live with me as my consort in the skies.
"At first, all was well. He was flattered by my attention, pleased by my devotion. But Andorostov soon grew weary of the darkness here, the coldness, the stagnation. He was a creature of life and flame. My home leeched the color from his mane, and he grew pale and brooding, discontent. At last he begged me to let him move on from here—for me to send him through the doorway and face whatever fate lay ahead. When he asked this, my heart became icy with fear. I could not bear to part with him. So I told him I would find another way—I would reverse his death and restore him to his life."
Yveltal drew in a shuddering breath.
"Of course, I did not have the power to realize this promise alone. So I went to Xerneas and laid my heart before her. Laid everything aside, even my dignity, and begged. She listened to me with a troubled face, for we both knew well the laws that bind us. When I had spoken my piece, she gently refused me. I asked her again. Again, she refused. A third time I asked. 'Yveltal,' she said. 'You have loved. But now you must let go.'
"'You refuse me this third time?' I demanded. A terrible fury overtook me. Only with effort did I keep my voice from shaking. When she nodded gravely, I said, 'So be it. But I shall take what is precious from you as you have taken what is precious from me.' With those words I leaped forward and broke a crystalline horn from her head."
Midnight Silk did not mean to gasp. The crystal horn in Yveltal's garden, the jagged spot on Xerneas' crown—they made a terrible sense now.
An unhappy smile twisted Yveltal's face. "Yes, you understand. It was unforgivable. I knew as soon as I had done it. I had spoken in anger and so spoken unjustly. For she had in truth taken nothing from me, only denied to do that which she could not do. The fault was mine."
"Why don't you give it back?" Even as Midnight Silk spoke the words, a sliver of panic sliced through her. If he went looking for the horn and found it gone . . !
But Yveltal sank down his head and let out a low moan, like wind trapped in a lonely chasm. "Give it back? But how can I face her? What can I say? When one has done the unforgivable, there are no words."
Midnight Silk crept closer and laid a comforting paw on the back of his neck. When she tugged gently, a feather came loose, but Yveltal did not stir.
She backed softly away. When she was out of eye-sight, she began to run, expecting at any moment the shadow of dark wings to fall over her, but she reached her sleeping quarters without anything disturbing the silence. The crystal horn glowed with bright, unwavering light.
For several moments, Midnight Silk sat in silence, clutching the horn and feeling the warmth flow into her. She thought of the obsidian statue, Yveltal's bowed head, and the strained music of Xerneas' voice. Then her thoughts turned to the family she had left behind, the lovers she had abandoned. Yveltal passed his days in darkness, in the company of mist and stone—how strange, she thought, that he had loved more strongly than she ever had. There was no one back on earth who would mourn her passing with a statue carefully carved.
At last, she stirred. Her breath passed over the feather, and she was gone.
"Back so soon, Messenger of Yveltal?"
When the surge of light ebbed, Midnight Silk found Xerneas eyeing her curiously.
"Forgive my intrusion, Bringer of Life," Midnight Silk murmured, clutching at the sack in her paws. "I bring you a very important message from the Doorkeeper of Death. These are his words. Xerneas, Life-Bringer, when last we met I spoke to you in anger. In anger I spoke, and so unjustly. I accused you of taking from me what was most precious, when in truth, that life was neither yours to give or take from me. I am sorry, both for my words and for the deed that followed. What I did was unforgivable and so I do not ask forgiveness. But I offer back what I wrongly took, and hope that one day, you will find that forgiveness all the same."
Midnight Silk bowed and held out the horn with trembling paws. Her eyes fell to the green earth. Thick silence settled, until finally the life-bringer spoke.
"You were doing so well too, until the apology."
Midnight Silk risked a glance up. Xerneas' eyes had hardened like old wood.
"Yveltal does not apologize. It is not in his nature. He should not send a servant to put words in his mouth like sweet berries on a dead bush. Leave me."
Midnight Silk stared. "You mean you won't take it?"
The horn in her paws was growing hot. That same heat rose in Midnight Silk. She'd made the choice to come here, thrown away her only chance at life—and for what? Two stubborn immortals who each refused to take the first step.
"Life-Bringer," she said tightly, "surely you know that even the most willing seed can take no root in barren soil. If you deny the seed of repentance, what do you expect to grow?"
Xerneas had no time to answer. The air swirled and darkened, and with a great rushing Yveltal winged down onto the grass. He took no notice of Midnight Silk, who had ducked behind a large sunflower. Bowing his head, he spoke.
"Xerneas, I have no right to speak to you, but speak to you I must. Through my folly, the balance of life and death has been endangered. My helper has stolen your horn and fled to earth to make herself whole. I am sorry."
Xerneas blinked. The colors on her crown shifted. "You are sorry?" she said slowly.
"Yes. For this and for all that came before."
"And you—" Xerneas turned her gaze to Midnight Silk, hunched in the sunflower patch. "You had the chance to live anew, but instead you came to me?"
Yveltal's head jerked up. His eyes quested through the air and fell on Midnight Silk. He gaped.
"You're here? But I thought—"
"You thought right," Midnight Silk said, forcing herself to meet their gazes. "I did intend to take this horn and steal back my life. I've always loved life, you see, and I didn't think I had any regrets for the way I lived. I took what I wanted, whether that was gold or love, and when I left, I left nothing. I could steal back a year of life, maybe more. But I understand now—I will die again. That outcome won't change, because I am mortal. I will die, and leave nothing behind. But you—both of you will live on. Life-Bringer, I ask you again. Will you not take back your horn?"
The silence that fell was thick with expectation. Xerneas came forward slowly. New sprouts unfurled with her every step. She bent down and touched her crown to the broken horn. Light burst, blinding Midnight Silk. When she reopened her eyes, the horn had fused; Xerneas' crown shone an unbroken white.
"Yveltal," she said, "I do not yet forgive you. In the heat of passion and anger, you neglected your duties and hurt me terribly. But I believe this is a hurt that can be healed. Do not hide yourself away again. Let us walk the earth together, as we once did."
"I would like that," said the Doorkeeper of Death.
"As for you, Midnight Silk, I believe I know a fitting fate for you. For your courage today, you shall not fade, but will shine ever-bright, a beacon and a reminder."
Yveltal expanded his wings to their full span. When the tips of his wings touched Xerneas' crown, the world changed. It only changed a little, but it became brighter.
Lift up your eyes! Do you see her, stealing across the sky with Xerneas' horn? Some call that star The Thief, but those who know this tale have a better name for her. Midnight Silk, The Restorer. She charts a winding path, but if you follow her, she will always lead you true.
The Last Con
There was once a thief known from the mountains to the sea. She stole gold from under the cheek of a hydreigon, honey from the heart of a vespiquen hive, and even obtained pearls from a clutch of clamperl, far beneath the waves. But when this thief, who called herself Midnight Silk, attempted to steal from the lucario colony of the Glimmering Ravines, she ran into some trouble. The lucario sensed her intention and converged upon her just as she entered their inner cavern. When she fled, they pursued her, hurling spheres of deadly aura at her back. They chased her to the ridge of Desolation Chasm. There, Midnight Silk took a rather long tumble.
When she came back to consciousness, she found herself in darkness.
"That was a close one," she said, wondering why she wasn't in more pain.
"Midnight Silk?"
The voice startled her. It had a distant, hollow quality, as if she were hearing the echo of an echo. She squinted into the darkness and made out a massive hunched shape, like a shadow cast by no sun. The shape shifted. Dim reddish light illuminated the chasm; the undersides of the stranger's wings glowed the hot red of magma.
"The one and only!" Midnight Silk called out brightly, unruffled by the stranger's fearsome look. "How can I help you?"
Silence from the stranger. As the glow from his wings spread, Midnight Silk noticed a huddled shape lying limp on the cavern floor. She pawed closer and found herself staring down at a body—covered with fluffy white fur, and very, very dead.
"Great Yveltal in the sky," Midnight Silk murmured, at last understanding why she felt no pain.
"Yes," said the voice from the darkness. "That's my name."
Now, Midnight Silk was a little taken aback to realize that she had died and that Yveltal, the Doorkeeper of Death himself, had come to collect her spirit. But even death couldn't faze Midnight Silk for long.
"Lord Yveltal?" she said, her voice still bright with artificial cheer. "What an honor! Would you humor me with a quick game of pebble and shell? I'm sure you'll have no trouble spotting which shell the pebble ends up under. If you guess right, I'll go along with you. If you guess wrong, though, I'll get back to my life."
Yveltal watched her as she approached her lifeless body and attempted to open the pack slung across it.
"You can no longer interact with the earthly realm," the Doorkeeper of Death said flatly.
"Silly me!" exclaimed Midnight Silk, undaunted. "How about a game of riddles, then? More than earth and water, the seed needs—"
"Xerneas." Yveltal's eyes had narrowed into turquoise slits. "I do not have time for these games."
"Time!" Midnight Silk said, starting to get a bit desperate. "That's right, you must not have much time at all, ferrying dead spirits from place to place. You're probably overworked."
Yveltal sounded puzzled when he said, "You're not wrong. Now if you're done talking, shall we be on our way?"
"What you need," Midnight Silk proclaimed, "is an assistant."
"An assistant."
"Yes! Someone to give you a hand, lighten the load, lend a friendly ear. Someone quick, bright, intelligent—"
"Intelligent enough to not fall two hundred feet down a ravine?"
Midnight Silk fluffed her ears as appealing as a spirit could and gave him her most charming smile. "As you can see, I'm not afraid to leap into the unknown."
She couldn't read Yveltal's expression. But at length he let out a long sigh and said, "Then come with me."
~*~
Yveltal's home lay on the dark side of the moon. Even Midnight Silk was at a loss for words when she first caught sight of his domain. The misty air parted to reveal a massive, twisting garden, though it was not a garden in the sense that Midnight Silk had previously known the word. Nothing grew. The trees—if they could be called that—jutted up with obsidian branches. Clustered like leaves on each branch were fragile crystals, gleaming with inner light. Their light was the only illumination.
"Life-stars," Yveltal said. "When they fall, I know the life has reached its end."
"Do I—"
Silently, Yveltal held out a small, lightless crystal. Midnight Silk took it with trembling paws.
"To reverse death is not in my power," Yveltal said. "I cannot give back life when it has gone. I would not wish you to remain here in that false hope. But if you sincerely wish to assist me, I—" Yveltal broke off and looked out over the garden. "I could use the help," he admitted.
Midnight Silk nodded solemnly, but she did not believe Yveltal. She was sure that she would find a way to regain her life eventually.
Yveltal set Midnight Silk the task of collecting fallen life-stars. It was dreary and time-consuming work. Finding fallen life-stars was no problem—they were everywhere—but bringing them back was trickier. Yveltal's home was a labyrinth. The paths changed without warning or reason, and sometimes Midnight Silk would wander for what felt like many days (though she had no sun to count them by) before she reached the central cavern where Yveltal slept.
On one such wandering, Midnight Silk found herself in a part of the garden she didn't know, where the air and fog were thicker. As she walked, she caught a glint of light—brighter than the dim twinkle made by the life-stars. She stepped and felt something soft under her feet. Moss. Midnight Silk looked down in amazement. Nothing grew in Yveltal's home. Yet this moss glowed an impossible green against the cold gray earth.
Midnight Silk crept forward through the fog until the source of the illumination became clear. A slender, crystalline horn, gleaming golden-white and studded by reds and pinks, lay on a roughly hewn dias. The air around it pulsed with warmth. As if in a trance, Midnight Silk came forward until she was almost touching the strange crystal. She felt heat flicker inside of her. Her hands closed around the crystal, not as a dream touching a dream, but as solid objects. Her heart thudded for the first time since her death. When she removed her paw from the crystal, the feeling of solidity vanished. She was a shade once more, just a thicker patch of mist.
This is it! Midnight Silk thought to herself. If she could steal this crystal and escape back to earth, she could live again! But how could she manage that? There was no way out of Yveltal's domain. And no matter how many times she asked, he never took her on his trips down to earth.
Midnight Silk touched the crystal once more, relishing the heat that flowed through her. The wind on her face, the sweetness of a berry, the bright sheen of gold—existence in Yveltal's domain left her craving them with a greater intensity than ever before. She stuffed the horn in the bag she used to collect life-stars and stowed it away in her sleeping quarters. For the first time since her death, she slept well.
~*~
"You have been of great help to me." Yveltal broke the silence abruptly, as Midnight Silk placed another bag of life-stars in front of him. "I know that my domain is not pleasant for the formerly living. If you are weary of this place, say the word and I will release you from my service."
"I'm doing fine," Midnight Silk reassured him, touched that the taciturn immortal had bothered to ask. It wasn't even a lie. Sleeping next to the crystal horn refreshed and invigorated her. Before her dreams had held only endless gray seas and darkened paths, but now she dreamed of wind-stirn fields of flowers and honey on her lips. "The work suits me."
Yveltal studied her with narrowed eyes, as if searching for any falsity in her words.
Midnight Silk opened her mouth to say, "Of course, it would raise my spirits considerably to see the earth again—" but instead found herself asking, "What about you?"
"What about me?" Yveltal gave her a puzzled look. "This garden is my home. Its properties grew out from my nature. I like it here."
"But are you—" Midnight Silk, uncharacteristically, fumbled for words. Yveltal slept in a bare stone cave, did his work, and little else. She had never seen anything like contentment in his face. "Are you holding up? Sometimes you seem—"
Listless. Depressed. Lonely.
None of the words that came to mind felt particularly tactful.
"I am perfectly fine," Yveltal said stiffly. He unfurled his wings and picked up the sack of life-stars. "Excuse me. I have work to do."
Midnight Silk watched him depart, frowning. She crossed her arms. "Be that way, then. Your emotional issues are none of my business. And as soon as I find a way out, they won't be my concern."
Midnight Silk didn't know it then, but her opportunity was to come sooner than she expected. As she wandered the garden she noticed a strange twinkle coming from the ground. Approaching, she saw that a life-star had fallen there, but still produced a dim light.
When she brought the strange life-star back to Yveltal, his turquoise eyes flickered with unease. He turned the life-star over in his massive claws and at last let out a deep sigh.
"I have a special task for you, Midnight Silk."
"You can count on me," she said at once.
Yveltal raised a massive claw to his neck and plucked two feathers. The feathers were black, deeper than the darkness, and hung in the air when Yveltal unclenched his claw.
"You must go to the domain of Xerneas," Yveltal said. "My feathers will aid you in this. They have the potency of distance. Simply pass your breath over the feather and speak your destination."
Midnight Silk's eyes widened as she stared at the floating feathers. Was it really that easy?
"Bring this life-star with you. You need not say anything. When Xerneas sees it, she will understand and do her duty."
If she could make it back to her quarters, grab the crystal—but Yveltal was watching her expectantly. Better to do what he wanted now. Later, when he was distracted, she'd steal a feather and make her escape.
She raised the feather to her lips, blew, and whispered, "Take me to Xerneas."
~*~
Brightness popped. Midnight Silk pressed her eyes shut against the surge of white that broke behind her lids into a dizzying storm of color. When she opened them, she saw that she stood in a brightly-lit meadow, wreathed with fruits and flowers of every kind. They grew impossibly—apple trees that bloomed yellow, green and red on the same branches, sunflowers that trailed off into poppies.
"Why hello." A voice rose like a bright, clear chord. "What are you doing in my domain, dead spirit?"
Midnight Silk swivelled and found Xerneas watching her with interest in her warm blue eyes. The life-bringer stood tall like a tree, and her head was crowned with crystal horns.
Midnight Silk found her voice. She puffed up her chest and cried out, "Greetings Fair Xerneas, Bringer of Life! I am Midnight Silk, messenger of Yveltal. Here is the message I bear." With those words, she proffered the life-star.
The life-bringer bent down her great head. Closer, Midnight Silk noticed a jagged area in her crown, where the crystal seemed to have been broken off. "I see. Thank you for bringing this to me. You may tell Yveltal that the issue will be dealt with."
"I will do that, Life-Bringer," Midnight Silk said importantly. She pulled out the second feather and brought it to her lips.
"Before you depart." A strain had entered the music of Xerneas' voice. "Perhaps you can tell me how Yveltal fares?"
Midnight Silk paused. "Sad," she said, before she could think better of it. "He always seems sad."
She blew over the feather. When she opened her eyes, she was back in mist and darkness.
"Well?" Yveltal demanded, bending over her.
"She said it will be dealt with," Midnight Silk answered. When he grunted and turned back towards his den, Midnight Silk called out, "Why did you send me, and not go yourself?"
There was a long silence from Yveltal. "I do not speak to Xerneas anymore."
"Why not? She—"
Yveltal's eyes flashed. When he spoke, his voice was low and strained. "She did something for which I could not forgive her. In return, I did something for which she cannot forgive me. It is very simple. And it is not your concern."
He unfurled his massive wings and took off over the garden. Midnight Silk hesitated, taken aback at the fury she'd seen in Yveltal's face. But curiosity overpowered her. She set off after him, following the red shadow of his wings.
Midnight Silk found Yveltal in a part of the garden she had not seen before, kneeling before a statue of a pyroar. The statue was made of the same black obsidian of the rest of the garden. But someone had smeared yellow dust and stained red berries over the mane, forming a red and yellow pattern. The colors had a dull, ugly hue—the mist wrapped unhappily around them as if offended by the intrusion of color.
"Yveltal?" Midnight Silk asked, edging forward.
He did not lift his head but at length he spoke. "Does the name Andorostov mean anything to you?"
"Y-yes. Legend says he was a great conqueror of the Storm Lands. A brutal tyrant and—"
"Beautiful," said Yveltal hoarsely, touching a talon to the face of the statue. "That's what I thought when I first saw him. One of his earliest victories. The dead lay thick as apples in a fruiting orchard and he stood, watching it all, his mane agleam in the red light of dawn. Magnificent.
"When I laid eyes upon him I felt a burning I had never known before. I asked Xerneas if she'd played some prank and set a star ablaze inside of me while I slept. She laughed and told me, 'Yveltal, you're in love.'
"So I was. I became his constant companion, though he never knew me, just my shadow over his battlefield. They began to whisper that Andorostov fought with the wings of Death himself, and I admit, hearing this pleased me.
"In time, his life-star grew ripe and fell, as it must be for all. His enemies rejoiced while his allies weeped, all of them but me. I quavered with anticipation as I landed to meet him. I told him of my admiration and invited him to live with me as my consort in the skies.
"At first, all was well. He was flattered by my attention, pleased by my devotion. But Andorostov soon grew weary of the darkness here, the coldness, the stagnation. He was a creature of life and flame. My home leeched the color from his mane, and he grew pale and brooding, discontent. At last he begged me to let him move on from here—for me to send him through the doorway and face whatever fate lay ahead. When he asked this, my heart became icy with fear. I could not bear to part with him. So I told him I would find another way—I would reverse his death and restore him to his life."
Yveltal drew in a shuddering breath.
"Of course, I did not have the power to realize this promise alone. So I went to Xerneas and laid my heart before her. Laid everything aside, even my dignity, and begged. She listened to me with a troubled face, for we both knew well the laws that bind us. When I had spoken my piece, she gently refused me. I asked her again. Again, she refused. A third time I asked. 'Yveltal,' she said. 'You have loved. But now you must let go.'
"'You refuse me this third time?' I demanded. A terrible fury overtook me. Only with effort did I keep my voice from shaking. When she nodded gravely, I said, 'So be it. But I shall take what is precious from you as you have taken what is precious from me.' With those words I leaped forward and broke a crystalline horn from her head."
Midnight Silk did not mean to gasp. The crystal horn in Yveltal's garden, the jagged spot on Xerneas' crown—they made a terrible sense now.
An unhappy smile twisted Yveltal's face. "Yes, you understand. It was unforgivable. I knew as soon as I had done it. I had spoken in anger and so spoken unjustly. For she had in truth taken nothing from me, only denied to do that which she could not do. The fault was mine."
"Why don't you give it back?" Even as Midnight Silk spoke the words, a sliver of panic sliced through her. If he went looking for the horn and found it gone . . !
But Yveltal sank down his head and let out a low moan, like wind trapped in a lonely chasm. "Give it back? But how can I face her? What can I say? When one has done the unforgivable, there are no words."
Midnight Silk crept closer and laid a comforting paw on the back of his neck. When she tugged gently, a feather came loose, but Yveltal did not stir.
She backed softly away. When she was out of eye-sight, she began to run, expecting at any moment the shadow of dark wings to fall over her, but she reached her sleeping quarters without anything disturbing the silence. The crystal horn glowed with bright, unwavering light.
For several moments, Midnight Silk sat in silence, clutching the horn and feeling the warmth flow into her. She thought of the obsidian statue, Yveltal's bowed head, and the strained music of Xerneas' voice. Then her thoughts turned to the family she had left behind, the lovers she had abandoned. Yveltal passed his days in darkness, in the company of mist and stone—how strange, she thought, that he had loved more strongly than she ever had. There was no one back on earth who would mourn her passing with a statue carefully carved.
At last, she stirred. Her breath passed over the feather, and she was gone.
~*~
"Back so soon, Messenger of Yveltal?"
When the surge of light ebbed, Midnight Silk found Xerneas eyeing her curiously.
"Forgive my intrusion, Bringer of Life," Midnight Silk murmured, clutching at the sack in her paws. "I bring you a very important message from the Doorkeeper of Death. These are his words. Xerneas, Life-Bringer, when last we met I spoke to you in anger. In anger I spoke, and so unjustly. I accused you of taking from me what was most precious, when in truth, that life was neither yours to give or take from me. I am sorry, both for my words and for the deed that followed. What I did was unforgivable and so I do not ask forgiveness. But I offer back what I wrongly took, and hope that one day, you will find that forgiveness all the same."
Midnight Silk bowed and held out the horn with trembling paws. Her eyes fell to the green earth. Thick silence settled, until finally the life-bringer spoke.
"You were doing so well too, until the apology."
Midnight Silk risked a glance up. Xerneas' eyes had hardened like old wood.
"Yveltal does not apologize. It is not in his nature. He should not send a servant to put words in his mouth like sweet berries on a dead bush. Leave me."
Midnight Silk stared. "You mean you won't take it?"
The horn in her paws was growing hot. That same heat rose in Midnight Silk. She'd made the choice to come here, thrown away her only chance at life—and for what? Two stubborn immortals who each refused to take the first step.
"Life-Bringer," she said tightly, "surely you know that even the most willing seed can take no root in barren soil. If you deny the seed of repentance, what do you expect to grow?"
Xerneas had no time to answer. The air swirled and darkened, and with a great rushing Yveltal winged down onto the grass. He took no notice of Midnight Silk, who had ducked behind a large sunflower. Bowing his head, he spoke.
"Xerneas, I have no right to speak to you, but speak to you I must. Through my folly, the balance of life and death has been endangered. My helper has stolen your horn and fled to earth to make herself whole. I am sorry."
Xerneas blinked. The colors on her crown shifted. "You are sorry?" she said slowly.
"Yes. For this and for all that came before."
"And you—" Xerneas turned her gaze to Midnight Silk, hunched in the sunflower patch. "You had the chance to live anew, but instead you came to me?"
Yveltal's head jerked up. His eyes quested through the air and fell on Midnight Silk. He gaped.
"You're here? But I thought—"
"You thought right," Midnight Silk said, forcing herself to meet their gazes. "I did intend to take this horn and steal back my life. I've always loved life, you see, and I didn't think I had any regrets for the way I lived. I took what I wanted, whether that was gold or love, and when I left, I left nothing. I could steal back a year of life, maybe more. But I understand now—I will die again. That outcome won't change, because I am mortal. I will die, and leave nothing behind. But you—both of you will live on. Life-Bringer, I ask you again. Will you not take back your horn?"
The silence that fell was thick with expectation. Xerneas came forward slowly. New sprouts unfurled with her every step. She bent down and touched her crown to the broken horn. Light burst, blinding Midnight Silk. When she reopened her eyes, the horn had fused; Xerneas' crown shone an unbroken white.
"Yveltal," she said, "I do not yet forgive you. In the heat of passion and anger, you neglected your duties and hurt me terribly. But I believe this is a hurt that can be healed. Do not hide yourself away again. Let us walk the earth together, as we once did."
"I would like that," said the Doorkeeper of Death.
"As for you, Midnight Silk, I believe I know a fitting fate for you. For your courage today, you shall not fade, but will shine ever-bright, a beacon and a reminder."
Yveltal expanded his wings to their full span. When the tips of his wings touched Xerneas' crown, the world changed. It only changed a little, but it became brighter.
Lift up your eyes! Do you see her, stealing across the sky with Xerneas' horn? Some call that star The Thief, but those who know this tale have a better name for her. Midnight Silk, The Restorer. She charts a winding path, but if you follow her, she will always lead you true.
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