Immortal Instruments
I don't own Mystery Dungeon. I own my characters and most of the plot. Man, I'm getting tired of disclaimers…
She guarded the cave.
Many Pokemon had trespassed here. Some knew of her treasure. Some did not.
To her, it did not matter. She froze them all.
She floated around her cave, examining her many victims. A Garchomp's snarl forever engraven upon his face, a Magnemite's emotionless eye staring at nothing, a Hippowdon captured in mid-yawn; she saw them all, and more.
"If I could copy these, I could make a fortune in the sculpturing business," she muttered to herself with a dark, bitter laugh. "Assuming I ever left."
She had stopped resisting the urge to talk to herself ages ago. It provided a simulation of company.
Even ghosts got lonely.
She passed over the shattered ice. And scowled.
He had broken free. Thanks to those two meddlers. They didn't know of her treasure, that much was certain. Otherwise they would have claimed it.
But they had freed one who knew.
She had claimed more victims since then, but she had not recaptured him. He would be back, she knew it. With reinforcements. Before, he had not known what he was walking into. Now he did.
Several Pokemon burst into the chamber. Including one she knew.
"You have returned," she said as she let loose a Blizzard at them.
Snow and ice blew towards them for well over a minute. But when it finally cleared, they seemed none the worse for wear.
It wasn't hard to see why. A good deal of water was on the floor, and the head of one intruder spouted flames.
Scowling, she vanished and appeared behind them to use Blizzard again-.
Blackness.
She awoke to the sound of it.
The sound of a fife that could only play spooky notes.
And her will was gone.
She knew what the Ghostly Fife did to her. It sapped her will. She had no choice but to do what the holder of the fife commanded after she had heard the tune. She could resist all she wanted, but it would all be futile.
She knew what this meant, as well.
She had failed.
And yet the fife denied her even the right to drop icy tears of shame.
"Tell me," said that familiar, hated voice as the fife stopped playing. "Your fellows. Where are they and what do they guard?"
And she had no choice but to tell them.
"Mew guards the Grass Cornet in Mystery Forest. Heatran guards the Firey Drum in the Giant Volcano. Kyogre guards the Aqua-Monica at Bottomless Sea. At Mount Avalanche, Articuno guards the Icy Flute. The Rock Horn resides in World Abyss, guarded by Giratina. Shimmer Desert contains the Terra Cymbal, protected by Groudon. And Rayquaza holds the Sky Melodica at the summit of the Sky Stairway."
She had betrayed them. Her fellow guardians were in danger.
She told herself that she had had, literally, no choice.
It didn't stop the shame.
His smile was colder than any of her Blizzards. "You have been most helpful, Froslass. For that, I will do you a favor. Short of attacking me or thwarting me, my fellows, or my plans, you may speak and move freely."
"As if I had any choice," she replied bitterly. "With that fife, I could not deny you that information."
He laughed. "Indeed."
"What do you want with them?" she demanded.
"If we have them all, we can control everything," he replied.
"You can't win," she declared with more vehemence than she felt. "Your supporters are few. You don't have the manpower to defeat them."
"True," he ackowledged, to her surprise. "But…you may remember those two that freed me?"
"I can never forget."
"They defeated the mighty Dialga, Lord of Time, Ruler of Temporal Tower." Once again, he smiled that cold smile. "And they have no idea what I plan. I think I can induce them to beat the guardians and retrieve the treasure for me." He laughed again as her eyes grew wide with fear. "And once I have the Firey Drum, I can control the Torchic and make sure that they will never abandon me. It's not a question of 'if', it's a matter of 'when'."
One of his companions, a Xatu, spoke up. "The conquering of the Froslass heralds the conquering of the world. Conquerers of time fail to conquer the conquerers. And yet, the ultimate conquerers will conquer all other conquerers."
The other companions turned to the Xatu.
"A prophecy," whispered a Mr. Mime in awe.
"But are we the ultimate conquerers?" a Blaziken wonders.
Her victim-turned-victimizer speaks up. "We'll have to assume so. But be on your guard." He turned back to her. "You will remain here," he commanded, "acting as you did normally and saying nothing of your calling and subsequent failure to anyone."
And she knew she must obey.
She watched Scizor leave with eyes full of despair, hoping that he would be stopped, but fearing that he could not.