The Saga of Kings: Farewell

by Vile Slanders

Parting is such sweet sorrow. Last call, get your drinks now, before we close shop for good.

2. TSoK, Book 2: Final Excerpts

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There will be no Kings. My name is Theron Halcyon, a disgraced Knight of the Kalosian Royal Guard, and disowned son of Noble House Halcyon. Though you may know me by my titles, rather than mine name. So why does the Devil speak? What words could I possibly offer that would justify my actions?

...There are none. Yet I leave this record regardless. Why? Because this is my story...

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The Saga of Kings, Book II: Prophet

Written by,

Vile M.F. Slanders

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"...Acérrima Proximorum Odia... (...The hatred of those most nearly connected is the bitterest of all…)" -Theron Halcyon, spoken moments before the Indigo League's 1,075th Semi-Final match; In reference to his opponent, Zane Bastard.

-v-

Prologue: A Vision of Things to Come

"Back off. Now."

"...Why hello, Zane."

"I'm warning you, TH-"

"Don't waste your time."

"...-"

"-Just what are you trying to do?"

"Heh."

"...TH, I'm begging you-"

"You should know better than that, Ranger."

"Theron, stop this! You're gonna get a lot of people killed!"

"Heh."

"..."

"Hahahah..."

"..."

"...That is the point, Zane."

"The point?!"

"..."

"You're really gonna do this? You know what's gonna happen if you do! You know what's gonna come out of that thing! You know how it's going to end! I thought that you cared about something, Theron! I actually thought that you cared!"

"...She's dead, Zane."

"...Theron… Come on. Come over here, beside me. Please. Just get away from that-"

"No."

"...Why?"

"...You know why, Zane…"

"No, I don't."

"Really? You've seen it. What's coming. Your part in it. You know how that story ends…"

"I can stop it! You don't need to-"

"Yes. I do."

"Theron, trust me! I know what is coming! I will stop it! I have to! And you... And I…"

"...?"

"...I know what you're feeling, Theron..."

"...I don't feel, Zane."

"Yes you do. I've seen Him. The other you. The you that was before The Hole. I know that he feels."

"...He's gone."

"...You don't mean that."

"I gave him to her, Zane. And now she's gone…"

"...You don't feel, huh?"

"Heh."

"What's that rolling down your cheek, Theron?"

"...Just evidence of a memory. Nothing more."

"I'm sure that she'd love to hear you say that about-"

"Zane. That is enough. You had your chance. You failed."

"I'm not done yet, Theron."

"You can't stop me, Zane. You already know this."

"I'm going to stop you. One way or another."

"Stop me? Zane, both you and I want the same thing-"

"I don't want this! Not this way! We can do it right, Theron! Nobody has to die-"

"Listen to you, Ranger... How many had to die in order to get you this far?"

"Don't even go there. I came here to stop you-"

"And you had to make a sacrifice just to stand where you are now…"

"Theron… If you do this… You could destroy all of it-"

"A sacrifice, Ranger."

"...Theron-"

"-...-"

"-DARWIN, REPORT!"

"...?-"

"-Oh my. Starting with the Legendary Midgar. Are you truly prepared to go this far?"

"Last chance, TH-"

"You still have a role, Zane."

"..."

"This new world… This old world… It needs a Hero. The people will need a Hero."

"Theron, if you don't step away-"

"Zane…"

"..."

"...Please don't make me kill you."

.-.-.-.-.

/_(X)_\

/_-_-_-_\

/.-PKMN-.\

.-=(CHAMPION)=-.

\*.Theron.*/

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\-(X)-/

You know of me.

My name is Theron Virgil Halcyon.

Which I find ironic.

Chiefly because not many refer to me by my name.

The Disgrace of Halcyon.

The Devil of Kalos.

The Eidolon King.

The Prophet.

The Hole.

TH.

These titles are more commonly utilized in reference to me. So much so, that most people don't even know my real name. Maybe it's a blessing, given how history will remember me...

...But it feels like a curse, for the world to know of me, and to not know who I am.

This is not an ego that I speak of. It is a longing, one deeply buried. I know that what I have done warrants some form of social retribution, but even so…

Please... Do not forget who I was.

I present myself to you, disarmed of my allies and machinations.

Naked, I strip myself down to the soul.

I know what love is. I know what joy is. I know what life is, and if ever I was given the chance: I would throw away everything that I am, everything that I have become... just to celebrate what a beautiful thing life is.

I am human, you see?

Not just a ghost.

Not just yet…

Now…

...Where do I go from here?

Ah. I know-

-I'll start with someone else you are familiar with, no doubt.

I'll start with the Hero.

I'll start with Zane Bastard.

That is not his real name of course.

-I know his real name.

Zane Bastard is…

...Almost as monstrous as myself.

Yet unlike me, Zane is unmistakably human in his atrocious nature.

He is the embodiment of the worst that mankind offers, and yet-

-Zane is also counted among the finest representatives of humanity's best qualities.

For those of you who have have not suffered the misfortune of meeting him, Zane is irrefutably the poorest example of morally aligned heroism.

Selfish, self-righteous, arrogant, aloof, ambitious, cold, cruel, conceited, violent, deceitful…

...Caring, compassionate, kind, wise, insightful, humble, brave, generous, loving, selfless…

Heh. Zane…

He is an anomaly.

The perfect analogue of everything human.

Zane and I are very much alike. Every flaw that he exhibits is a reflection of one of my own. Every grace that Zane clings to is a monument that casts the shadow of one of my own. We were both born to families that sought to empower us, before their disgust cast us aside. We both turned away from that prestigious path laid out by our families, all because we would rather do something greater for mankind, instead of simply serving our own interests. We have both endeavored to save humanity from themselves, albeit through slightly different avenues fortified by our completely opposed ideals.

At times, I wonder…

Had I been born as Zane, and if he had been born as Theron…

-Would I have become the Hero, and would Zane have become the Prophet?

...Perhaps fate would have be kinder to me if our roles had been reversed.

-That is not to undermine Zane's suffering.

He has suffered as I have, though in different circumstances and by different means.

He is a cripple, broken in body, wounded in mind and heart.

I am dying so quickly that I can feel it, and my heart bears the same scars of loss that Zane's does.

But in spite of these mundane defects, both Zane and I persist.

In spirit.

In compassion.

And we have both failed you.

Heh.

To think that I am entrusting Zane with the fate of our world…

...No.

-I will speak of it, but only when appropriate.

...That part of the story must wait.

Zane Bastard. The Hero.

My nemesis, my rival, my opposition, my obstacle.

My friend.

Zane would be disturbed to no end if he were to learn of my less than requited perception of our relationship.

Zane Bastard most certainly does not consider me a friend.

It is the definition of pathetic, even for me, to assign a camaraderie to our association.

I am the worst friend there is to have, and Zane is little better.

But he and I know each other, just as well as we know ourselves.

We are after all, in a fashion, the same person.

We just evolved for different environments.

Zane.

I do love him, far more so than I love myself, and I even find myself swayed by his romantic notions of right and wrong...

...But then I open my eyes, and I see the rotting truth in all things.

It is my greatest remaining hope: that I do not need to kill Zane before the end.

The world will need the strong to support the ideals of right and wrong.

Let dying Devils take their ideals of might and meek into Hell with them...

...Enough about the Hero.

Let us discuss the Devil.

-Let us discuss me.

I was born as Theron Virgil Halcyon to the Kalosian Noble House Halcyon.

A House of secrets and whispers, hounds and vipers, schemers and liars, spies and enforcers, all loyal to the Kalosian Crown.

My father was Virgil Asob Halcyon, an offshoot cousin of the central family.

I never knew my mother's name. I was never told her name. I don't even know who her family was. None of the Halcyons concern themselves with such trivial matters.

She died at my birth.

Consider it a Halcyon family observance. My mother had to die, in order to provide the optimal sacrifice for my first Channeling.

It seems that the Ghosts extol maternal self-sacrifice.

I have a reason to suspect why, but…

My mind is already too far gone for any further contemplation regarding the Ghosts' existence.

If I devote any more spiritual exploration to them, then I will likely become a spectre myself…

Eidolon hypotheses aside, let us return to my origins. My mother served as the sacrifice in my first Channeling. It's a Halcyon tradition, one that's not too terribly well known. The central family doesn't abide by it, else it would raise suspicion should the daughters of other Noble Houses suddenly disappear after their marriage to a Halcyon.

I was born as a serving class Noble, so my mother's commoner blood runs through my veins.

I'm grateful for it, actually. Otherwise I would likely suffer from anemia, just as many of the core Nobles do.

And given my first Ghost's ascertained fate for me, anemia would have made for a bit of an awkward pairing.

My first Ghost was a Honedge, signifying my destined service to House Halcyon in the King's Royal Guard.

Yes, the Halcyons expect their Ghosts to dictate the futures of their children.

It's not an altogether unbecoming concept.

There are far more misleading forms of guidance to be found in an upbringing.

After all, the Ghosts can see our pathways in two realms, can they not?

To rectify any uncertainties, I was all of a day old when my mother died. I wasn't even an hour old when a Honedge defeated and consumed every other wraith congregated within the Channeling circle. My umbilical cord was newly severed when that Honedge was bound to me as a servant.

And as his bound Channeler, I was linked to that Honedge to serve as his sustenance throughout all of our duties together.

I never had a choice.

Looking back on it, I would have refused if given one.

But then I look forward, and I see what is to come.

My sacrifice may not have been initially willing, but it was necessary.

And in the scale of such necessity, my life and happiness is worth very little.

My first memories were of the nightmares, of course. Such primal terrors invoke instinctive recordings. The Ghosts become even more greedy whenever their Channelers sleep, as the Ghosts have a tendency to consume our emotions through the freedom that we experience in our dreams.

I still remember the first time that I awoke, screaming in terror as Pariah hastened his haunting on the dreaming infantile me.

Pariah…

My first Ghost.

My lifelong companion.

My first constant.

My guardian.

...And the spirit that will deliver me bodily into the Distortion at my life's final ebb.

Pariah's name was determined by mine own choice. Naming your Ghost is one of the few freedoms that a serving class Noble in House Halcyon is allotted. In my early youth, I had few… well, only one friend. Other than Pariah, I should add. It may seem odd to you, referring to the Ghost that is actively killing you as a friend; but when you are naive and lonely, any form of companionship casts an illusion of mutual empathy. And Pariah was the only creature that stood by me throughout most of my youth.

Solitude is something of a Halcyon childhood regularity. My own father rarely spoke to me, not that he had much to say to his only son. He had only conceived me out of duty. His lifelong Channeling had already separated him from any sense of compassion that would have inspired paternal affections. And knowing the Halcyons as I do…

I suspect that my mother was not a willing supplicant for the Halcyon's cursed seed. I have little doubt that she reviled my very existence before my birth killed her.

But then again…

...She did give her life to save her child.

Otherwise Pariah would have slaughtered me, and spared my mother.

It is a shame, really…

I would have liked to have met her.

-Forgive me.

I frequently digress.

It is a habit of those prone to reflection-

-Listen to me.

Heh.

I'm already losing sight of the story. Apologies.

...I decided that the Honedge's name should be Pariah, simply because it summed up my early existence.

I was alone in my youth.

The Halcyon central family had little to do with me.

My father was never there, thanks to some small mercy.

My mother was deceased.

The other serving class Nobles of our House avoided one another.

And the outside world abhorred the name Halcyon.

I was completely isolated from virtually everything, except for my Pariah, who tortured me whenever my eyes closed for want of sleep.

There was only one person whom I could call a true friend.

I am of course, referring to my fiancée.

I know that arranged marriages are somewhat uncommon throughout most of the world, and indeed, even Kalos typically reserves the practice for the Noble class.

But only a month after my birth, my wife-to-be was similarly brought into this world.

Well… without the whole Channeling ritual after birth affair, but-

-She was like me, born as a serving class Noble.

Marriage is a rare union for the serving class Nobles in House Halcyon.

My father likely kidnapped his "wife" from her bed, before forcing her to bear his child.

I would have likely followed in his footsteps…

-But I was born at a timely moment, when both House Halcyon and House Le-Faye sought to foster a politically beneficial relationship with one another.

I was to serve House Halcyon in a context of our end of the bargain.

And Valerie was to serve House Le-Faye comparably in theirs.

Our first meeting…

I can still feel the ghost of a smile just remembering it.

Unlike a hound of Halcyon, Valerie had been raised as a proper Court Lady, with plenty of exposure to the outside world and the Kalosian nobility, regardless of her lesser birth.

She was so colorful, especially back then, when we were both so young…

...Back when we could both see the world with our own eyes…

...I must confess, I was initially afraid of her.

-Can you believe that?

The future Devil of Kalos, beside himself with terror when brought before this warm and playful girl?

It still makes me laugh…

...Even now, when her memory moistens my eyes…

Valerie was not cruel to me, not at all.

We were to be married.

I was to be her gallant Knight Theron, and Valerie was to be my beautiful Lady-Courtier.

-That is how Noble children play "house," for those of you confused by the imagery.

But I was ever so wretched at being Lady Valerie's Noble Knight Theron.

I blame Pariah for that.

Even a minor Distortion seep is perceivable on a primeval level.

Even a toddler could tell that I was haunted.

It took Valerie years of exposure before she became accustomed to a Ghost's presence.

But even as a child, she made the effort to stand there beside me…

...Valerie was ever so beautiful…

...And I was ever so unworthy.

Back then, I didn't know what would become of me.

I was still innocent, if I may use that unbefitting term in accordance with my being. I didn't know that one day, I would lose everything that I cherished, merely because I could no longer experience such heartfelt sensations ever again.

I didn't know that Pariah was going to destroy my humanity.

It is difficult to explain it. I know full well what I am missing. I know very well what it is that I cannot feel…

...But I must struggle just to hold onto its loss, otherwise the cruel apathy would destroy any semblance of compassion that I have left.

I need my compassion, no matter the pain it inspires.

Else I would join the rest of my family as another living wraith.

But what I have done…

And what I have become…

I did it all for Valerie.

And I would do it all over again, if only for the love she showed me.

That love resides within all of humanity, and that imperfect and flawed trait is the sole reason for why I seek your preservation.

The world would be empty without it.

-And as empty as I am, I do not seek to leave behind an equally empty world.

...I am once again, diverting the story from its intended course.

-I am truly terrible at this.

Heh.

Well, as we say in Kalos...

"Once more against the concordant of the court."

At my sixth birthday, I was taken from House Halcyon, and delivered to Parfum Palace, in order to serve in the capacity of an Esquire of the Royal Guard.

It was not the most glamorous of Noble duties, but as a member of the serving class, it was expected of me.

At eight years of age, I was made into a Squire-Sergeant and awarded with my first baldric and full set of platemail.

Then I was presented with my heraldry, when the Royal Guard made me into a full fledged Knight at nine years of age, setting a precedent that remained unrivalled even in the annals of history.

I wasn't made into a Knight at nine years of age because of family favors, unlike many of the children Knights of yore.

I was made into a child Knight because I had earned my station through mettle and service, and for a nine-year old, I was surprisingly mature.

...Zane isn't the only one who aspired to greatness in spite of his youth.

Even if my mortal term was destined to be a life of duty and service, I would meet such an existence valiantly.

Eleven years of age was a turning point in my life.

I was bound to a second Ghost, this one of my choosing.

A Litwick, who's unhallowed light would guide me through every prestigious order in the Kalosian Knighthood.

My sweet little Thanatos. The future Perdition's Glow.

Or my "Lamp," as Zane has dubbed him.

Litwicks are a revered symbol of wisdom and philosophy in House Halcyon.

Our family's scribes and poets are always birth-bound to a Litwick.

But Thanatos was to serve me as a docent throughout the court and sub-courts of Parfum Palace…

-Detecting and routing every dissident to the Crown that dared to stand within the King's presence.

The Soul-burners generate a curious little light.

A Soul-burner's flame casts a shadow that manifests itself as a reflection in the Distortion.

All shadows. Even your shadow.

And your shadow betrays your intentions to the eyes of a Ghost.

Thanatos effectively secured me a position in the highest of Kalosian Knightly orders.

-The Knights of the Crownguard.

It was the King himself who requested that my family bestow another spirit unto me, so as to serve his majesty all the more effectively within his personal guard.

And that is how the thirteen year-old me entered into a union with Demeter.

Of all my spirits, there is one dreaded above all others; if not for her prowess, then for her application instead.

My Demeter.

My Inquisitor.

The Garden of Agony.

My Trevenant, Demeter, was bound to me as a symbol of House Halcyon's highest honors.

Demeter is one of the Halcyon Heirlooms, the prized eidolons normally reserved for the central family.

Demeter has served House Halcyon for centuries, passed down from one generation of Channelers to the next, earning her place amongst the most revered of revenants in our family's service.

House Halcyon keeps this Ghost within our family for countless reasons, though primarily because there is no more a sadistic spirit in all of the Distortion as my dearest Demeter.

But my service to the King had placed me in a politically advantageous position for House Halcyon.

As a member of the Crownguard, every merit my station garnered was reflected within the very eyes of the King. My every virtue would be measured as a testament to House Halcyon's loyalty to the Crown.

In order to secure his majesty's future graces, House Halcyon had granted an Heirloom Ghost to one of their lesser brood.

-And Demeter served House Halcyon's interests well.

Between Pariah's prowess, Thanatos's awareness, Demeter's interrogation skills, and my own devotion to the Crown's service…

The whole of Parfum Palace was scoured clean of detractors and debasers within a year.

I became a minor celebrity in the King's Court.

My fellow Knights devised the first of mine titles, one that was adopted by the higher-ranking Nobility in Parfum's Court, and subsequently passed into the public's ear years later when the next fork in life's road presented itself to me.

"The Hole."

With just three Ghosts, my haunting was already potent enough to be perceived within a distance of a few meters. Passersby could detect my oppressive presence, heralded by the Distortion seep that my collection of Ghosts exuded.

Due in part to the King's implicit trust of my oath-bound word, and my reputation as his Royal Inquisitor, my supernatural aura became something of a morbid joke amongst the Knights and the Nobility of the Royal Court.

"Don't cross The Hole, unless you want a private word with the King."

Even I laughed at that sentiment.

-For the same reason that they laughed.

They were afraid of me, and the laughter could transpose an undying ghost with a bleeding man.

And even if it was just for a pretense…

...It felt good to laugh with others.

I'm surprised that they didn't just start calling me "Sir Hole," given how frequently the Nobility used that title. Several of my fellow Knights deepened the irony by propagating crude jokes regarding a confluence between the codes of chivalry and my union with the infernal apparitions.

But to my face, I was only ever called-

"Sir Theron."

Or when I was announced at Court-

"Sir Theron, of House Halcyon."

-Did you assume that I was jesting when I claimed to have once served as a Knight in the Kalosian Royal Court?

Can you imagine me in heraldry platemail, festooned with the Crownguard's ceinture tied from one shoulder to the opposite waist, and the edges of a Doublade sheathed in scabbards at either hip?

A startling image?

-I'm not too terribly surprised.

Most foreigners are mystified upon discovering that the Devil of Kalos once served as an honorable Knight.

...But most foreigners have a very un-Kalosian image of a Knight.

They forget that the codes of chivalry come second to the service of a King.

And the service to a tyrant is a damning service, to say the least.

So in light of such tyrants, this anecdote turns its quill onto King Allan of Ruling House Arturia.

The pompous fool actually envisions himself as my rival.

-But he is no King.

Pariah would have alerted me to the presence of another King, if Allan Arturia's authority actually represented a threat to mine sovereignty.

...Just as Pariah did, back when we first met Zane in Viridian City.

-The Bastard King…

Pariah knew who Zane was before anyone else realized it.

It took The Prophet a pair of Gym battles to see it.

It may seem bizarre that Zane's and mine rivalry was not born of a "Game of Thrones," per se…

But rather, in a contest of ideology.

A common goal, achieved through different means for similar ends.

We differ at a crossroads.

But we both strive for the same destination.

Zane has brought more doubt into my existence than any of mine experiences prior to our meeting. And from those sown doubts, I have only reaped deeper convictions.

And I have enlightened Zane as to what will become of our world should he play only the role of a pawn in it.

Like rivalry in all things, the opposition presented within its composition has strengthened the foundations that both proponents have set themselves upon.

We have both become all the greater because of it.

And just like every rivalry, the conclusion of our contest will determine a decisive victor and a defined loser.

...Perhaps it is still too early for me to claim the crown.

...For Zane is ever the one to purvey surprises...

-Dear me, I am positively dreadful at providing coherent and jointed exposition, am I not?

...Very well.

I will continue on with the tale.

My station in the Crownguard placed me under the authority of Lord Gregory of House Wikstrom.

He's known in Kalos as "The Crown's Gauntlet".

Lord Gregory Wikstrom is the Knight-Commander of the Kalosian Crownguard.

And he is the final contest that stands between the Kalos League Challengers and the Kalos League Champion.

As well as his duties to the Crown, Lord Gregory Wikstrom also serves the Kalosian League as the ultimate member of the Elite Four.

A Noble Steel-Type specialist.

Hence the title, "The Crown's Gauntlet".

Lord Gregory Wikstrom's position on the Elite Four was not freely granted to him by the inheritance of his noble rank. Rather, such a lofty station was awarded to the Iron Lord by the deserving merit of his skill in battle.

And though he may have been a formidable opponent…

-Lord Wikstrom was absolutely nothing compared to his Champion.

Which brings us to the next character in this Kalosian royal drama. Lord Gregory Wikstrom did not merely maintain his rank on the Elite Four by prowess alone. For the Iron Lord also serves the Crown as the Royal sibling's bodyguard.

The fairest Lady in all of Kalos.

Princess Diantha of Ruling House Arturia.

The previous Kalos League Champion.

-Even the mongrels of Indigo know who she is.

"The Queen-Regent of Glamour."

You've probably seen plenty of Diantha's movies.

Diantha's cinemas have made aught but shame of Virbank Studio's gross attempts at entertainment whenever the two have clashed in the international box office.

Kalosian refinery trumps Unovian savagery at every convocation.

...Pardon me.

Nationalism is a dirty habit that I have yet to dissuade myself from.

-But I hold this frail Kantonese coffee accountable for my embittered mood.

Its lack of barista adherence only leaves me yearning for my home…

...Yes, I will have another cup. Thank you.

-If not to savor, then at least to inspire fond musings within my forlorn memoirs…

Diantha was unlike her brother, Allan, in many ways.

For starters, she had a spine.

Yet by the detriment of her sex, Diantha was forced to forfeit her claim to the Crown in favor of her younger male sibling.

Despite this archaic royal doctrine, Diantha was fiercely loyal to her brother.

I would go so far as to suggest that the successes of King Allan would not have been possible without the support of his older sister and her influences.

The people of Kalos detest King Allan.

But they love his sister, Princess Diantha.

Of all the greatest tragedies brought about by my ascent in Kalos, I regret none more than the injustice that I visited upon Diantha.

The people of Kalos revere Diantha for a reason.

As well as a spine separating her from her brother, Diantha also possessed a heart.

...A heart that I destroyed when Diantha and myself met in last season's Kalosian Championship Finale…

...Well then...

-Pressing on.

Between Lord Wikstrom and Princess Diantha, who were customarily present at the Parfum Court during the League's extensive offseasons, I had plenty of exposure to the hierarchy of the Kalosian League.

As a matter of fact, my involvement within the Kalosian League would never have come to fruition without the graces of fair Princess Diantha.

It was Diantha herself, who took a fourteen-year old Sir Theron as her armed escort to the nearby Santalune League Gymnasium.

Diantha claimed that it was only another photoshoot for her next cinematic production, but that was ever a clever ruse.

Diantha wanted a Halcyon to compete within the Kalosian League.

-And as well as her photoshoot, Diantha had also arranged my first challenge against a Gymnase Meister without my knowing.

Diantha was extremely pro-League. More so than any other region's Champion.

It was the seat of her power, and Diantha sought to design such an extravagant League throne for herself, that it would rival the majesty of her Crowned brother's hall.

...A pity for them both, I inherited Diantha's empowered throne when I assumed the role of the Kalos League Champion.

The Kalosian League operates almost identically to the Indigo League, so Diantha, or myself, possesses the resources and influences befitting a Regent of Kalos.

I must grant the bureaucratic engineers of Kanto their due accolades.

Just as every other Regional League in the world has done, Kalos has replicated Kanto's flawless League syndicate, barring a few differences in the finals, of course.

Kanto may seem uncouth to the common Kalosian perspective.

-But they have spawned more cultural genius in the post-Brink era than any other region still standing.

And even if Kanto plays host to a nation of uncivilized and self-conceited ignoramuses…

They're still a damn sight more pleasing to the Kalosian perspective than the bloodthirsty and paranoid Unovians.

-I am terribly sorry.

Please, forgive the obscenity.

-I'm afraid that my time spent in company to Zane Bastard has infected me with his blatant disregard for decency.

But as it stood, that first Gymnase challenge in Santalune awoke something within me.

Something that I had never felt before.

It was a flawless victory, one of many that would follow, but it was not the triumph in battle that inspired me to continue.

Upon receiving my first Gymnase Sigil, it was Diantha's proud smile that told me:

"You can be more than a hound of Halcyon."

Service is what I had been born into. Duty was the only sense of self that I had ever been permitted to know.

And now, some vestige of freedom had been revealed to me.

I knew that I could become something greater than a mere hound.

Because of Diantha, I knew that this Knight Theron could defy his fate if he so willed it.

...Perhaps that is why I have never lost.

I can't afford to lose.

To do so would be to forfeit to that fate.

...And I have come too far, and sacrificed too much to allow myself to plummet down that hole.

It was Diantha who negotiated with King Allan for my timely release from duty, so that I could experience the League's offerings in full.

I challenged the Kalos League Gymnase Meisters for their Sigils, and in doing so, I drew the attention of the Kalosian media.

It's not everyday that a Halcyon steps out of the shadows and shamelessly displays his family's terrifying power in full view of the public. The world rarely plays audience to a Channeler who seemingly aspires for the throne of a Champion. My adroitness as a Halcyon Shadow and my Knightly station within the Crownguard garnered much of the public's awareness. For little reason other than the contradiction aroused by my sinister origins and gallant bearing, I inherited my own minor form of influence in Kalos. Some might even call it-

-A Fan Club.

"The Hole" was soon known throughout all of Kalos, boldly exhibiting both the majesty of the Crownguard and the horrors of House Halcyon.

It was the triumphs and glories that I brought to House Halcyon in that pursuit which earned me the limit breaker of all Channelers.

You see, we Channelers generally only wield a maximum of three revenants.

The common theory as to why this is, is that anymore Channelings would effectively cut our lifetimes in half.

But that in itself, is only half of the equation.

Three bound Ghosts extorts an incredible caliber of strain on a Channeler's spiritual and mental constitutions.

They change us, dramatically altering our mannerisms and personalities.

We start to lose sight of who we are, and we begin to become one with the eidolons.

...In short, we die and are reborn as monsters, still living within the husks of the men we were before.

It takes time, of course. The effects are not immediately apparent.

But that third Ghost taxes your haunted soul so severely that you can feel yourself dying.

And House Halcyon had decided that their Knight Theron, the closest article our Noble House had to an overt operative, a public representative of the Halcyon family's prowess…

...Deserved a fourth revenant.

That is how another Halcyon Heirloom worked its way into my possession, along with the corresponding artifacts required to extract his full potential.

Exodus, the White Shadow.

The gem of my family's spectre collection. Our eidolon of war.

The most powerful primeval spirit that House Halcyon can summon.

My pale jester.

My laughing killer.

My cruelest weapon.

Exodus, my bleached Gengar.

The title confounds many, upon their first encounter with Exodus.

He does not immediately display his snowy complexion, nor does he seem all that dissimilar from every other Gengar in existence.

Exodus requires me to draw that hoary power out of the Distortion for him.

As a Noble House of Kalos, the Halcyons have access to an ancient artifact, one of those legends originally conceived by the mad tyrant AZ.

A Keystone, and a correlated Mega-stone.

They passed into my possession when Exodus was entrusted to me.

And I have abused the power of an unshackled Gengar beyond the point of all redemption, though I should add, at a great cost to myself.

There is no revenant in all of existence that can compare to an unbound Exodus's arrant power.

He can bring the Distortion into the waking world, not merely drag his victims there.

And in such an inverted Distortion rift, Exodus transcends from a lowly terror and into an immutable God of Nightmares.

No other Noble House of Kalos possesses an immortal pagan deity who is sworn to their service.

No other Noble House has a rival for Exodus.

That much was made perfectly clear when I swept the entire congress of Kalosian Gymnase Meisters beneath the wake of their own ruin.

So it came to be, that I was doomed to represent my Noble House in both the Royal Court and the public eye as the Invincible Sir Theron of House Halcyon.

Or as Diantha once dubbed me, "The Crown's Shadow."

That title is no longer utilized in reference to me. No soul in Kalos would dare utter it, for they fear to incur the wrath of the frightened King, Allan Arturia…

...Or worse, the wrath of The Eidolon King, Theron Halcyon.

Yet even a fourth Ghost feeding from my soul did not grant me the Prophet's Eyes that have cursed mine sight and the vision of all whom meet my gaze.

The Prophet's Eyes were not opened until I came to possess a fifth Ghost.

My ocular aberrations are unprecedented.

I am the first living human being to have ever seen the world with the same eyes that the Ghosts do.

No man who has come before me has ever mastered a fifth Channeling.

-Not without dying first, anyways.

...And it is hardly considered mastery when its glory elapses in the breath of one final scream.

But an additional cost for the spirits' service has left my vision plagued by the shadows of the Distortion. I see the ends of all paths in my vision. I know the outcomes of every event before they even begin fruition. Yet despite this foresight, mine vision does not grant me clarity.

The ends are ever changing. Every preceding event in the present alters the pre-established course of every future pathway. I have discovered, at a grave expense, that it is futile to prepare for just one eventuality. Such preparations affect the outcome of that eventuality, and every move taken against it can alter the end result so completely that timely adjustment becomes impossible.

Through the shadows of the Distortion, my eyes behold the fibrous flow of time. I see what is to come. I see what may come. I see what will pass. I see what may follow. And though it can all be adapted... It is all inescapable.

-There are some fates that cannot be revoked.

...Yet I will still endeavor to contest the parsimony of predestination itself.

One might refer to such an outrageous agenda as, "shaping one's own fate," though I reject the orthodox concept of fate, even if mine eyes have already shown me the paths to all ends.

...Including my own...

The Distortion and its interdimensional avenues are a peculiar frontier. I do not know how much of my being resides within that unhallowed realm, borne into the abyss by ways and means of my revenants' insatiable appetites…

...But I am that close to becoming a living Ghost.

And I can only hope that my death frees me from that fate.

...Even if I have already seen what awaits me in death…

-And even if I realize the futility in hoping…

...Do not pity me.

I have made myself into a Devil for your sake.

Only a Devil can do what is necessary to save humanity.

-And you will hate me for it.

I expect you to spit upon my titles, and blacken my memory with the greatest of my sins.

But nonetheless, I am compelled to leave behind some account…

-Some legacy that defines who I was…

...So that Theron Halcyon is never truly forgotten…

My story begins one year before Zane's did, back when I still called Kalos my home.

Back when I was still Sir Theron of House Halcyon.

...Back when I still knew who he was…

...

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.-.

Author's Note: This was written but a few weeks after TH's introduction in Book I. Since that time, TH's prologue has undergone numerous rewrites/revisions, as my proficiency at storytelling has evolved. I will never claim to be perfect in my favored format, but I can state with confidence: that I am far more developed as a writer because of my experiences in writing, than I was when I first wrote the original draft for Theron's prologue.

It's because of trial and error that I advanced beyond simple shock factor, and embraced depth through metaphors, that I was able to portray Theron in such a light. I do not see Theron as the villian in TSoK. I see him as the antithesis to Zane's ideology; a selfless victim who condemns himself for a long-term agenda that ultimately benefits mankind.

But a devil is a devil, regardless of the ends they use to justify their means.

I love Theron, as I have loved no other original creation before him. But I cannot condone the immorality of his actions, regardless of his intents.

Because of this, I hate Theron; as I hate any despot or delusional tyrant that serves as an analogue of human corruption.

To give rise to hope; and betray such hope;

To offer condolences, when there is no sincerity behind the action…

To reach out to others, and then to abandon them…

And to do it all in self-sacrifice for a greater good.

I love Theron for all the reasons I hate him.

And that contradiction…

That fantastical paradox…

...Was what inspired me to take TSoK as far as I did.

.

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The Saga of Kings, Book II: Prophet

Written by,

Vile M.F. Slanders

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*T...T...T...T* *T...T...T...T*

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"...Eram quod es, eris quod sum… (...I was what you are, you will be what I am…)" The Channeler's Incantation, spoken with the tongue of the spirit; Closing vow.

-v-

Chapter I: The Crown's Shadow

"You see?"

"Yes, I see."

"Three stones."

"..."

"One for mommy..."

"..."

"One for daddy..."

"..."

"-And this one is Todd's."

"...I see."

"Mommy and daddy haven't woken up yet, but Todd always woke up before everyone else did… So now Todd and I are just waiting for mommy and daddy to wake up too."

"...Amy-"

"Can I ask you something, mister?"

"...What would you like to know, Amy?"

"...Well…"

"...?"

"...Those eyes. What do you see with them?"

"…Not a world for children, Amy."

"What does that mean?"

"..."

"Mister?"

"..."

"Why are you crying?"

"..."

"Are you waiting for your mommy and daddy to wake up too?"

"Amy, please… If my parents are Ghosts, then I have no desire to meet them."

"Why?"

"..."

"Why not? You can have your family again. Everyone can be together… Just like they were before they all died…"

"...That is not a wholesome reunion, Amy…"

"...But I want to see them again…"

"They're gone, child. And you should hope that they stay that way."

"But Todd came back to me! My little brother came back-"

"ENOUGH!"

"...?!"

"That… thing… That… abomination… is not your little brother, Amy."

"Of course he is! It's Todd! He came back to me! He came back-"

"..."

"...?!"

"..."

"...Mister… I can't breathe-!"

"Be silent, Amy. It will all be over soon."

"...Please… Let me breathe-"

"Shhh, child. Shhh. Just close your eyes. Please, just close your eyes. I will accompany you on the first crossing… I will be right beside you, Amy... When your Ghost delivers you into the Distortion."

"...!"

"Exodus, Typhon. I expect your assistance within the Distortion. Pariah, you will follow us…"

"...-"

"...And you will kill that wretched Duskull the instant it releases its Channeler."

"...!?"

"Stop struggling, Amy. It's almost over."

"-My... -brother-!"

"...Will never see his hellbound sister again. This is our doom, Amy. We are destined to become Ghosts ourselves for casting our lot in with theirs. I am truly sorry..."

"...!...-"

"...For the hell that lies in waiting is no place for a child."

"..."

"..."

"...!-"

"Shh…"

"...-..."

"...Close your eyes, Amy. Let this Devil bear you away before our shared fate claims your innocence…"

"..."

"...Let me shoulder the sin of your end, before your Ghost robs you of who you are…"

"...-...-"

"Shh…"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...Sleep, child. May whatever horror that condemns us find mercy in its judgement, and separate you from your Ghost... Before the last tattered veil falls…"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...Goodbye, Amy. I will pray for you, in hopes that we never meet again..."

…

"Thanatos, begin."

The Chandelure above me sputtered and hissed as a torrent of soulfire whirled about in his cracked lanturn. An intense gray light filled my personal quarters with a drying heat.

"Connect, and feed me the whispers."

I felt Thanatos reach through the Distortion, and into my being through the link that tied our wills together as one.

"Exodus, fill the shadows. Bring me the visions."

The illuminated face of my Gengar responded accordingly, sinking into the shadow that my form cast in Thanatos's light.

"Connect as one."

Now Exodus imparted his being into mine and Thanatos's, and the three of us became a single entity, with only one governing awareness.

-My own.

"The elegance of Lady Alistair is simply overwhelming-"

"I'll bet you four Mintz. Best two out of-"

"-The Sinnoh Theocracy is growing anxious with our inaction. They want to know if we'll tolerate Unova's expansion into the Ellis archipelago-"

"Hail, Sir Ramsey! Where have you been, you salty old dog-"

"-Princess Diantha arrived earlier today on the back of her giant Aurous! I can't believe that such a delicate woman is comfortable-"

"-We have reason to believe that Unova's expansion into Sinnoh's coastal waters is nothing more than preliminary resource prospecting. But a survey team should be deployed into the Ellis archipelago to investigate, just in case-"

"-I want a Luxio! Daddy said that I could have a Luxio! Where is my Luxio-"

"Try the kalamata semolina next. But only with a little garum creme. The olives can clash rather terribly with an excess of the anchovy's-"

"-Anyone seen Lord Wikstrom? He said he was off to find The Hole a little while ago-"

"NO! I didn't! I swear that I didn't! I would never betray the King-"

"Cordial, Samantha, cordial! A Lady Courtier must appear cordial-"

"-It is by our royal decree that the dishonorable Sir Mayhorn be executed at noontime tomorrow. We deign that the execution be meted out in full view of the public eye, so that all of Kalos witnesses the fate of conspirators against our sovereignty-"

"-You feel that? Like… Something is watching you? ...I think that The Hole is at it again-"

"-I swear, if that bloody Knight tracks mud into the front hall one more time, I'm going straight to the King-"

"Sir Theron."

My eyes opened and the voices ceased. I severed the connection with my two spirits, and dimmed Thanatos's ghostly light.

"Lord Wikstrom. What is the King's will?" I greeted the Knight-Commander of the Crownguard in a steady rise.

The Iron Lord was not alone. Schizm, my superior's Bisharp, stood at Lord Wikstrom's left shoulder; Dammerung, his Bronzong hovered behind the pair.

"...I hope that I'm not interrupting anything important." Lord Wikstrom's lip curled, despite the concerned tone that he addressed me with.

"There is currently little of interest to be heard within Parfum. I have no reason to believe that this exchange will distract me from any threats to the Crown. And given the fates of our last cabal of conspirators, I very much doubt that any other guests of Parfum would dare entertain notions of betrayal so readily." I reported in a dry voice. Knight-Commander Gregory Wikstrom cleared his throat.

"Yes, it was an impressive feat you managed, pinning down Sir Mayhorn's contact in the revolutionary movement without even having to speak with the disgraced Knight. They're both being interrogated as we speak. I'm sure that you would have enjoyed overseeing their torture, but my King has need of Demeter's skills elsewhere. You have been summoned to the Black Hall. We have a… guest for you and your spirits to entertain." Lord Wikstrom announced.

"The ACE defector? I heard that some of his story aroused suspicion." I mused, as Thanatos departed from his roost in the eaves and settled himself above my right shoulder.

The Iron Lord fixed a pair of cold brown eyes on me.

"What do you not hear, Sir Theron?" Lord Wikstrom asked me severely.

I could have smiled at him, but I had little want to unnerve my superior anymore than I already had. Schizm and Dammerung had been deployed in an effort to conceal Lord Wikstrom from my spirits, and though their telepathic barriers and Distortion interference could prevent mine revenant's from discerning the world through the Iron Lord's senses…

...I could still observe Lord Wikstrom's movements and his words through the eyes and ears of those who watched him.

"Very little." I replied in a detached voice.

Lord Wikstrom straightened and stiffened his shoulders against the rising shudder. He was standing in the penumbra of my Distortion seep, and even the Iron Lord was susceptible to my spirits' malice.

I rarely noticed it anymore.

I had been born to such misery.

"Accompany me to the Black Hall, Sir Theron. It would be most discourteous of us to keep our guest from ACE waiting." Lord Wikstrom pivoted on a heel, and I made to follow my superior through Parfum's Gilded Long Gallery.

Thanatos hovered above me, while Exodus remained hidden within my shadow.

Our commune was not yet over.

The servants, Knights, and guests of honor all parted before the Iron Lord, The Hole, and the four Pokemon that accompanied them. While Lord Wikstrom's station as Knight-Commander of the Crownguard warranted such social adherence, my presence only served to exacerbate it.

Nobody wanted to be caught within the light of Thanatos.

Nobody wanted their shadow violated by Exodus.

Nobody wanted their secrets known to The Hole.

"Need I debrief you on the specifics, or are you already aware of the King's concerns?" Lord Wikstrom curtly asked me upon our arrival to the Black Hall.

I couldn't help it.

-I just had to smile.

Lord Wikstrom witnessed that slow knowing smirk curl the left corner of my mouth.

The Iron Lord couldn't withhold this shudder.

-It was borne upon his very breath.

"...Saves me the time." Lord Wikstrom saved some dignity by acknowledging my efficiency. We approached the stairwell that led down into the Black Hall's Undercroft, and together, the two most infamous members of the Crownguard descended below the the earth to where our ACE defector's accommodations had been provided.

"Knight of the Fringe, the Crownguard has come to relieve you." Lord Wikstrom dismissed the chamber guard, whom rapped upon the great wooden door at his shoulder. Shortly after his gesture, three more Fringe Knights vacated the premise behind the door.

"Sir Theron, ACE awaits your adjudication." Lord Wikstrom stood aside, and motioned to the door.

It didn't surprise me that the Iron Lord was demoting himself to the role of Chamber Warden.

Not even the King himself could stomach spectating the machinations of Sir Theron at an inquiry.

I proceeded into the chamber beyond alone, at least as far as appearances are concerned.

-But I am never truly alone.

It was a small, dimly lit room; free of senseless decorum or unnecessary comforts. It was simply a single pockmarked wooden table contained within four rough-hewn stone and mortar walls.

-And of course, a bruised and bleeding man, bound to a chair on the far side of the table.

"...Oh hell no…"

The ACE defector didn't seem particularly happy to see me.

Or to feel the greeting that my Ghosts had prepared for him upon our arrival to his cell.

"Monsieur Arnold. I am Sir Theron of House Halcyon. I don't believe that we have met before?"

Unlike many a Knight, I appreciate the codes of chivalry.

-Courtesy is ever a deceptive ploy.

"I told your King, I just wanted out of ACE… I offered you information-"

"-Yes, information that we already possessed. Which only breeds suspicion as to your presence and agenda within Kalos. You have yet to establish a definitive motive for your defection. Simply desiring freedom from ACE's 'shady developments' does not constitute reason enough for your coming before the Kalosian Crown with a plea for asylum. We must know what 'shady developments' inspired you to commit an act of treason." I took my seat across from the ACE defector.

This Gerald Arnold claimed to be the very same Vice-Marshal Gerald Arnold that had maintained a lofty position in ACE's Executive hierarchy. Information regarding his identity was scarce, due in part to ACE's rather capable security measures, but we believed that this Gerald Arnold was truly who he claimed to be. A glance could clarify that this individual was in his late-fifties, heavily greyed at his receding hairline, and his excessive paunch fed reason to suspect his involvement in ACE's bureaucracy.

Very few ACE field operatives would be so woefully unfit, and his manner of speech had pegged him for a higher class than a simple desk jockey.

-At least, his manner of speech prior to his interrogation.

"Please, you have to believe me-"

"-Thanatos, I find it quite gloomy in here. Would you provide us with your light?"

My invisible Ghost made his presence known with the roar of his soulfire.

The ACE Executive gaped in terror at the stained glass candelabra that hovered above us, radiating a gray aura of unhallowed light.

"Thank you, Thanatos." Mine eyes had never left the beaten ACE executive, and my polite tone had not once shifted from its cordial track.

"Monsieur Arnold, I must confess that I hold the advantage in this deliberation. There are four Ghosts in this room with us, all of which are loyal to me. Now if ACE has divulged the contents of my dossier to you, then you should be well aware of what other three Ghosts adhere to my command. As a courtesy to your inadequate preparations, I shall use only three of my spirits in this inquiry. Exodus-" I flicked my arm at the elbow in an easy gesture of command.

"-Take his shadow."

My own shadow grew massive in Thanatos's sterile light, and the flattened eyes and mouth of a Gengar formed at its core. Exodus's true form could only be seen when the Ghost leapt between shadows, and the primeval and warped shape of a Gengar unbound from the darkness is not a figure that the human mind can record in any psychological medium; save for the images invoked within the most primal of our species's nightmares.

Monsieur Arnold was treated to a little horror show as Exodus's vaporous form clambered across the table towards him, the signature grinning mouth and lidless eyes were now portrayed in bleeding three dimensional relief, detailing the malicious gluttony that imbues the features of every Gengar.

Exodus linked with Monsieur Arnold's shadow, and now that the Crown's guest was haunted by my own Channeled Ghost…

...His self-dictation had simply been revoked. Every fiber and current of Monsieur Arnold's physical being was now slaved to my will.

"Are you thirsty, Monsieur Arnold? It is rather dry in this room. Would you be so kind as to pour yourself and I a drink?" My tone was still that innocent courtesy, further poisoning the resolve of any who held such mannerisms dear.

My ACE correspondent raised a puppeted arm, yet its sudden ascent for a platter of cups and a pitcher was halted by the chain that bound his limb to the chair.

But no mere chain would prevent Exodus from fulfilling his master's will.

Monsieur Arnold began to scream as the manacle tore into his flesh and strained against his right radius and ulna. I returned dictation to Monsieur Arnold's left arm, just so that he could attempt to wrestle his possessed limb into submission with its unhaunted twin.

But despite both arms being of an equal part of his meek body, one limb was governed by a Gengar, and no living flesh would ever possess the strength required to deny the White Shadow's sovereignty.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry. Allow me." I returned full dictation to Monsieur Arnold, who collapsed back into his chair, sobbing and nursing a bleeding forearm.

I poured a cup first for him, and then one for myself. Drinking deeply of the cold water, I once more turned my attention to the King's weeping guest.

"So you have met mine Exodus and mine Thanatos. Do you know the names of the other two Ghosts in my service?" I continued on in that pleasant tone, once more brimming my cup of water.

Monsieur Arnold had neglected to sample his liquid refreshment, but the sudden appearance of black veins in his cup might have had something to do with the ACE Executive's hesitation.

"Ah, Demeter… You are so eager to be introduced. Forgive my Trevenant's enthusiasm, Monsieur Arnold. She is ever so incorrigible when presented with new faces. Please-"

I smiled warmly at my guest.

"-Drink, for you have no doubt much to speak of."

Once again, Exodus claimed Monsieur Arnold's dictation, and the writhing cup of water was raised to Monsieur Arnold's quivering chin by his own shaking hand.

Exodus parted Monsieur Arnold's unwilling lips, and Demeter's roots reached into his mouth with a deliberate slowness, tentatively probing the moist interior with her fetid appendages.

Then something appalling crawled out of the cup, and flailed its way down Monsieur Arnold's throat, choking him in its violent invasion.

"Three Ghosts, Monsieur Arnold. A mercy for you." I settled back into mine chair, as my pleasant tone gave way at last to one more suitable for the occasion. Dark. Pensive. Serious.

My guest could only retch as Demeter took root within him, and blood soon accompanied the vomit that erupted from Monsieur Arnold's gagging mouth.

"Would you appreciate an explanation of the situation that jeopardizes your very sanctity? Or have you already deduced what spirit performs what role in this inquiry?" I asked in my heartless tone.

Monsieur Arnold had begun to spasm. His weeping was now broken by painful squeals and moans.

"Softly, my sweet Demeter… Let's take it slowly on his first time, shall we?" The courteous tone found its way into my voice again, accompanied by my cold half smile. The spasms ceased. Monsieur Arnold had curled over himself, sobbing in piteous despair.

"Given your silence, I will assume that you are ignorant as to the present eidolons and their pertaining functions in my proceedings. I will explain each spirit's' role to you in parts. Thanatos-" I gestured to the Chandelure above us with an airy motion.

"-Will reveal your lies. I would advise you to not entertain any deceptions within Thanatos's light, else the other two spirits have leave to punish you for your attempts at treachery. Exodus-" A warped and guttural chuckle, mingling with the chorus of the Distortion answered me, born from Monsieur Arnold's own shadow.

"-Will detect and break any and all resistances that your agency may have imparted you with. No psionic wards will protect your secrets from your own haunted shadow. Even telepathically repressed memories will be exposed, and neural impedance is no guard against Exodus's methods. As for my dearly beloved Demeter-" Monsieur Arnold gagged as Demeter squirmed within him, heeding my call with the closest expression a Ghost could display to affection.

"-Well, if you haven't already discerned her role… You really are just an easy meal…"

A full smile accompanied that declaration, wicked in its malevolent charm, and mocking in its chilling apathy.

"So now I extend to you yet another mercy. Speak freely as to why you have come before the Kalosian Crown in an act of treason against your own kinsman. An honest answer will relieve you of any further agony. A dishonest or evasive answer will only provide you with the contrary." I set my drink aside, and gave my fullest attention to the broken man before me.

"...I was afraid..."

"-So you claim. Of what?"

"...I… I can't-"

"-Demeter."

A sudden peal of screams interrupted Monsieur Arnold's hesitant admission. I lifted my cup back unto my lips, and sipped leisurely from the contents while Monsieur Arnold convulsed and squealed in the chair opposite me. Returning my cup back onto the table's surface with a light tap, the screams came to an abrupt end.

The drooling man before me could barely wheeze past his own bleeding mouth. Demeter's roots had circumnavigated every vital link in Monsieur Arnold's anatomy, and the Garden of Agony was now seeded in his every nerve cluster, imparting the horrors of the Distortion directly into the physical being of the Crown's guest.

"You can't tell me what you are afraid of? Why not?"

"...They'd kill me-"

"-How? You are within Parfum. Apart from yourself, no other ACE operative resides within the King's Palace."

"T-they did something- Something to my head-"

That statement drew a pause. Monsieur Arnold was being deliberately vague in his answer. He knew the punishment for evasive replies. Why was he toying-?

-I was taken aback by a sudden revelation. Was Monsieur Arnold discretely suggesting telepathically reinforced self-termination? Performed on an Executive member of ACE's hierarchy?

Was Monsieur Arnold attempting to answer me subtly, so as to avoid triggering a psionically encoded suicide?

"Exodus, a careful purging if you will. Do not allow yourself to be detected. A single trip could kill Monsieur Arnold before we procure the information that we desire."

"-Don't do that! They have-!" Exodus's discovery interrupted Monsieur Arnold's panicked outburst with my voice.

"-There it is… Oh my… That's quite the elaborate device that ACE installed you with. A second-party trigger? Manually engaged? Ha. That's rather innovative…" I leaned across the table with a puzzled expression overcoming my countenance.

"So a psion is currently monitoring the primary trigger… Presumably from somewhere in Kanto… The distance would explain why your treason has not brought about your execution in spite of this clever design. The psion must be within a certain radius to manually trip the secondary trigger… But if the primary trigger is released… Then the secondary trigger is encoded to release as well... This is impossible to disarm or sabotage without first disposing of the psion in question… Ingenious..." I sat back with a rare full smile lifting my expression.

-This ploy was worthy of respect.

"-And it's no simple self-termination code either… Residual psychokinetic signatures within your carotid artery suggests that termination is ensured regardless of any restraints we fetter you with beforehand. Cerebral hemorrhaging will kill you even if you cannot perform the deed yourself. I applaud ACE's commitment to guaranteeing that their secrets remain secret. No device at the Crown's disposal can undo what has been done to your subconscious mind. This is quite tricky..." I leaned forward, musing over the dilemma with that pleased smile on my face.

This was a challenge. A puzzle of sorts.

-And every Halcyon appreciates a demanding riddle.

"Monsieur Arnold… May I extend a formal apology on behalf of the Crown? We did not realize just how extensively ACE's anticognitive procedures had been administered on your person."

Monsieur Arnold looked at me in terror, as if I were a madman.

It was understandable given the circumstances, but my sincerity was not faked.

"Though in turn, one must consider your unwillingness to provide such relevant material beforehand, so part of the fault must fall on you as well."

Monsieur Arnold could only gape at me. How had an interrogation ended with an apology?

-Well, this is Kalos, and our society is a slave to courtesies...

"I do believe you now, seeing the handiwork for myself, and given that death would prevent you from betraying ACE's secrets… It was quite crass of the Crown to press for such dangerous information. I beg for your forgiveness."

A humble tilt to my neck and head was accompanied by a sweeping gesture.

"-But I cannot go to my King with only this discovery. I must know whether or not Kanto or its agencies conspire against the security of Kalos and the Crown. So answer me vaguely… Does Indigo intend any harm against Kalos?" I requested.

"...Not directly, no. I cannot say more on the matter, please-"

"-But their actions will adversely affect Kalos's national security?" I pressed.

Every Ghosts' presence loomed in the waiting, pressuring the shattered ACE Executive for an answer.

"-Y-yes…" Monsieur Arnold's face clenched, as though he were expecting a sudden cerebral rupture to stay his tongue.

But the question and its answer were vague enough to avoid triggering the psionically enforced execution, just as I had suspected.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Monsieur Arnold. I will be sure to commend your bravery in my report to the King. Exodus, Demeter, take your leave of him." At my command, Exodus leapt from Monsieur Arnold's shadow, and returned to my own, traumatizing the ACE defector with yet another terrifying vision of the denizens from beyond.

But playful Demeter couldn't very well withdraw into the Distortion without twisting Monsieur Arnold for one more agonized squeal.

"Thanatos, I thank you for your guidance. Return to me." The wretched light of my Soul-burner sputtered out, and the Distortion parted for Thanatos's silent retreat.

"I will see that medical attention is sent your way, as well as a new setting procured for your accommodations. I have little doubt that the King will reward you with asylum for your service to the Crown. Enjoy your stay in Parfum, Monsieur Arnold." I bowed as low as a servant, before leaving the shaken ACE executive within his cell.

"What did you learn?" Lord Wikstrom asked upon my return.

"Not much, I'm afraid. Only that Kanto represents a threat to Kalos, though in what manner we will be unable to discern from Monsieur Arnold's testimony. But what little I did learn could serve as the foundations of an investigation. House Halcyon will have to piece the missing information together." I reported. The Iron Lord's face darkened at my account, but I had told him all that I knew, and my reputation for proficiency as the Royal Inquisitor forestalled any further questions pertaining to the matter.

"Is our guest… ill-disposed?" Lord Wikstrom asked me, a slight twitch forming below his left eye.

"He is alive, and mostly intact. I have promised Monsieur Arnold some simple hospitality of Parfum, while we await the King's decision on asylum." I replied. Lord Wikstrom just chuckled.

"Very well, I will oversee his relocation to the Gilded Long Gallery. Perhaps he should board next to your room, Sir Theron?" Lord Wikstrom smiled demeaningly at me.

"Ideally. The Crown will want to keep a close eye on Monsieur Arnold. He has not yet satisfied my curiosity." I answered the Iron Lord with my own smile.

Lord Wikstrom's grin faded.

"Go fashion your account for the King. As soon as you have completed that duty, you are to report directly to the Grand Solar. Princess Diantha has requested your audience." Lord Wikstrom ordered of me.

I faltered momentarily.

"Princess Diantha? An audience? For what reason?" I asked, my perplexity plain upon my face.

Lord Wikstrom rather enjoyed my uncharacteristic expression.

"More than likely, it has something to do with the League. I cannot fathom of any other reason as for why the Princess would call a common Noble into her bedchambers. Now do not keep the Royalty waiting, Sir Theron. You have a duty to perform." Lord Wikstrom straightened himself before me, and my right gauntlet connected with the lower edge of my left pauldron.

Lord Wikstrom reflected the motion, and my mailed fist was extended to my superior in our order's age-old salute.

Lord Wikstrom returned the salute, dismissing me from his presence. I hurried my way back towards my quarters, mentally preparing to compile the interrogation report for my King.

-Though the prospect of seeing Princess Diantha again did distracted me from my dutiful musings...

…

"Princess Diantha? Sir Theron of House Halcyon has heeded your summons." The Solar crier announced my arrival to the gathering within.

Princess Diantha had not invited me to a private audience, to do so would have practically been akin to inviting rumors of hearsay and scandal.

There was a small number of guests within Princess Diantha's private chambers, many of them children considerably younger than myself. Many I recognized as the offspring of other Noble Houses' central families, yet here and there, I detected individuals born to a less than noble brood.

The children of the common cloth were welcome within Princess Diantha's portion of Parfum, and were afforded with all of the honors generally reserved for their greater birthed counterparts.

It was just one example of how Princess Diantha had earned the love of the Kalosian people. Princess Diantha addressed the peasantry with the same respect that she granted to the Nobility.

It was a rare trait for the Royalty, and one that I greatly admired of our Princess, for the same kindness that Princess Diantha had shown to the wretches of the street, was also freely given to the wretches born in House Halcyon.

"Sir Theron!" Princess Diantha rose to greet me. I bowed before my Princess, nares parallel with my knees.

Princess Diantha was now approaching her mid-forties, though any who viewed her majesty and vigor would have sworn her to be half of those years. Age had yet to mar her beauty, and indeed, the subtle lines that were conjured upon her cheeks and at the corners of her eyes when she smiled only served to accentuate her obvious warmth and dignified bearing.

"Rise, Sir Theron. Come now, let me take a good look at the Terror of Halcyon." Whereas others would have used such a title in revulsion and fear, Princess Diantha's musical trill gave the malevolent name a bold and pleasing meaning. To my Princess, the Terror of Halcyon was merely a stage moniker, not a monster in a Knight's heraldry.

"It is good to see you again, Princess Diantha." I rasped when rising from my bow. Princess Diantha was one of only two individuals who made me feel ashamed for my ragged voice. Such a wondrous Lady deserved a far finer tone than the one that emanated from the mouth of a Halcyon.

A pair of gentle hands found my mailed shoulders, and a Princess's soft lips crowned my brow in a tender greeting.

"Look at you…" Princess Diantha laughed, stepping back to gaze teasingly at me.

Look at me indeed.

The Terror of Halcyon wasn't quite so terrible when his normally pale face was flushed with blood.

The Terror of Halcyon became quite comical with such a bashful expression worn plainly upon his visage.

"It is so good to see you again, Theron. I'm pleased that Lord Wikstrom allotted you leave from duty for this gathering. Come, I want you to meet the others." Princess Diantha took my nervous hands in hers, and led me over to the assorted fold.

Princess Diantha was seemingly immune to my Ghosts' Distortion seep. That, or she hid her discomfort even more meritoriously than the Knight-Commander of the Crownguard himself. I suspected that Princess Diantha's status as Kalos's reigning Champion had placed her before the malice of Ghosts before, and her decisive victories against the eidolons had adequately steeled her against their disturbing presence.

-But the same could not be said of the youthful gathering in the Solar compound.

They felt every harbored vice against their existence with the full force exuded by my supernatural servants.

There was nothing that I could do to alleviate their terror. I was the stake that chained four pieces of the Distortion to earth, and no device or command of mine could diminish that dreadful aura.

"Now everyone, this is Sir Theron of House Halcyon. He's known as the Crown's Shadow when he competes within the League. Sir Theron is a very rare kind of Trainer. Can anyone guess what Sir Theron's favorite type of Pokemon is?" Princess Diantha smiled warmly at the fold, doing her best to ease my introduction to their sweating and tortured forms.

Absolute silence answered Princess Diantha's query.

I knew that Princess Diantha was not only trying to educate these children in matters that pertained to the League, but…

...Princess Diantha was also trying to welcome me into a world that I had no place in.

These children didn't deserve to stand in my presence.

That was a punishment reserved for traitors and adversaries to the Crown, not these innocent souls. It seemed as though the terrified hush would persist unbroken for the remainder of my stay, but then-

"Well, I know for a fact that it certainly isn't the Ghost-Types."

My warm face went cold upon hearing that familiar voice. My own breath froze within my throat. I didn't dare to turn around to face the owner of that laugh.

It couldn't be her...

"Well, if it isn't the Gymnase Meister Valerie Le-Faye!" Princess Diantha smiled at me with all of her subtle kindness.

I couldn't believe it.

I hadn't seen my betrothed in nine years…

"Sir Theron? Are you there?"

A shuddering wind nearly choked me when I remembered my noble duty to mine future wife. I quickly turned about and offered a supportive arm to my blind fiancée, taking Valerie from her Florges attendant's hold.

"Lady Valerie…" My voice quivered, and I could feel a watering in my nares and eyes. A beautiful smile greeted me, as Valerie's hands took my arm firmly.

I struggled against the onset of hyperventilation.

I was utterly overwhelmed.

"Theron?" Valerie whispered my name wistfully, her hands tracing their way up from my forearm to my pauldron, touching at last my cheeks, and from there, Valerie began to chart the contours of my face.

Valerie's soft fingers ceased their visual touch when they found the trails left behind by my tears.

"-Oh dear me! I forgot that the two of you were engaged! This must be such an awkward surprise for the both of you! I am positively ashamed of myself!" Princess Diantha feigned her embarrassment, gracing Valerie and myself with a knowing smile.

Of course my kindly Princess had arranged this.

Her generous consideration more than warranted some future performance of valor from my person.

"Fair Lady Valerie, would you honor me with your company at Princess Diantha's soiree?" I found a strength with which to feed wind into my words, and Valerie's gasping smile gave me the sweetest answer that I could ever have hoped for.

"It would be my honor to stand beside the noble Sir Theron." Valerie spoke in a breathy voice, taking my arm tightly by the elbow, and pressing her side up against mine.

And upon the completion of that simple exchange, did I escort my lovely Lady Valerie to a sofa free of other persons.

"Well… I do believe that everyone is now accounted for. I'm afraid that Lord Wikstrom could not attend today, I know that you all so dearly wanted to meet the Crown's Gauntlet-"

Princess Diantha's voice faded away to the rush of blood in my ears. Valerie held herself with dignity beside me, but one arm of hers wound its way around by armored back, and followed the rear of my heraldry's ascent up to my exposed neck.

Valerie's fingers gently caressed the nape between my pauldrons, discreetly avoiding any detection by using the bulk of my mail for cover.

My hand found the other of hers between our persons, and our fingers interwove with an obvious display of affection.

Valerie had not forgotten me.

And I had most certainly not forgotten my beautiful fiancée.

"Lady Valerie? Do you mind explaining the competitive structure of the Kalosian Gymnasiums? I feel as though the oration of a Gymnase Meister would be better suited to the task, rather than the ignorant prattling of a League Champion." Princess Diantha came before me and my Valerie, extending a gentle arm to my fiancée.

"Of course, Princess Diantha, but your claim of ignorance does not fool this court. It would be my pleasure to explain the various Kalosian Gymnase formalities to our prospective Trainers." Valerie reached out slowly, and dear Princess Diantha quickly intercepted Valerie's seeking arm, lifting my betrothed away from my side.

Princess Diantha left me with a mischievous wink, as she guided Valerie into the center of the gathering.

"For those of you who have not heard, Lady Valerie of House Le-Faye recently ascended to the position of Laverre City's Gymnase Meister. Can anyone tell me what manner of Pokemon the Gymnase Meisters of Laverre historically train?" Princess Diantha asked.

The gathering had not yet fully adapted to my presence, but some had begun to garner a strength of fiber from both Valerie's and Princess Diantha's fearless demeanors.

"...Fairy-Types?" One of the commoners spoke out in a meek voice.

Princess Diantha smiled teasingly at the nervous boy.

"Eric, you're from Laverre! Say it loudly and proudly, child!" So did Princess Diantha use her charm to dispel the Terror of Halcyon.

Only after every child had thrown their voices into a repetitive chorus, would Princess Diantha proceed with Valerie's introduction.

I could only stare in wonder at my fiancée.

I couldn't believe how alluring our years apart had made her.

I couldn't believe how natural and regal she appeared, standing there beside Princess Diantha.

I couldn't believe that Valerie stood upon her own two feet by her strength alone…

...I still couldn't believe that cruel fate had yet to part us.

Valerie was so beautiful. Her uncut raven hair fell in an even cascade across her shoulders and back, kept in check by a feathered bow and jeweled tiara. Valerie's petite and becoming figure betrayed no hint of the illness below her skin, and Valerie's extravagant finery was unique in all of Kalos.

Imported from southern Johto, Valerie wore a colorful brocade of expansive furisode, a grandeur not commonly seen within the Kalosian Courts. Yet here and there, Kalosian fashion had altered the garb. A corset pulled my fiancée's waist into a narrow cinch between her bosom and hips, and the sleeves of the kimono had been tailored into fantastical rainbow wings. The normally long skirt of the furisode had been replaced with a delicate tea-hemming, revealing shapely calves tightly wrapped in black hose, before ending in ornamentally carved and painted porcelain clogs with curved toes and elevated heels.

Every inch of my fiancée was covered in decorum, even her face had a tassel and veil of sequins and silk covering her eyes and holding back her bangs.

And all of it was worn to disguise the scars.

Just as I am ashamed of my Distortion seep, so too was Valerie ashamed of her ruined body.

But just as Valerie had accepted me in my haunting, so too had I accepted her in her disfigurement.

Such marks of the flesh only inspired me with a deeper love of Valerie's untainted purity.

"-That is why the Gymnase Meisters continue to compete within the League. We are not satisfied with settling for less. We all dream of one day rising to the position of Champion, or establishing ourselves on the Elite-" A sudden shortness of breath choked Valerie, ending her reiteration on the Gymnasium policies and goals. Covering her mouth in one long sleeve, my fiancée attempted to master herself against her wounded breathing.

Princess Diantha looked at the hacking girl beside her with concern-

-And I was suddenly at Valerie's side, leading my choking fiancée back to the sofa with a gentle arm.

When the two of us were once more positioned comfortably on the sofa, Valerie leaned her breathless head against my armored shoulder, and drew closer to my side. When Valerie's sleeve finally fell away from her wheezing lips, my eyes detected a wet red shade newly cast on the wrist of her furisode.

My mouth tightened when I rested my cheek against her crown, and I fought off the tears again.

My beloved Valerie…

My dying rose…

-I promised you that I would forever stand at your side…

...No matter what end…

"Thank you so much, Valerie. We all appreciate your passionate words. Your bravery is most distinguished among all Gymnase Meisters."

My kindly Princess herself was concealing her pity. Those who knew little of Princess Diantha personally would never notice the sorrow in those blue eyes.

"Sir Theron? If I may be so presumptuous? Could you take the stand and answer any of the questions that our future Champions of Kalos may have?" Princess Diantha's voice was soft in its bold request, but given my Princess's kindness to both me and my betrothed, I could not in good graces refuse Princess Diantha's appeal.

"It would be my honor, Princess Diantha." I reluctantly rose from my future wife, and took my place at the Queen-Regent of Glamour's side.

"Now the Crown's Shadow has not competed within the League for the past three years. His service to the Crown does not allow much leeway for such pleasurable activities. But Theron Halcyon is something of a prodigy in the Kalosian League. He set a record when he undertook the Kalosian Gymnase Challenges. Theron Halcyon secured all eight Kalosian Gymnase Sigils in just two months, while maintaining his fervent duties to the Crownguard. And he has never lost a battle. Not once. Meaning that Theron Halcyon's competition record is even more immaculate than my own." Princess Diantha spoke to the frightened congress with a dramatic voice, but her finishing statement warranted an interjection from me.

"My League record could compare to Princess Diantha's own, but I fear my feeble accolades hold nothing in contest with the splendorous title of Kalos's Reigning Champion."

Never stand above the Royalty: this is the first lesson taught in all Noble Houses.

"Well... If King Allan would bend his obstinate neck, then perhaps the Crown's Shadow could challenge the Glamorous Champion's record."

The room was filled with a sudden gasp.

I alone stood unmoved.

Princess Diantha had no fear of her brother's wrath.

Only Princess Diantha could publicly humiliate King Allan free of all consequences.

It was just another reason for why the people of Kalos revered her.

It was hardly surprising. King Allan himself idolized his sister. Princess Diantha had, after all, raised Allan Arturia to ruling age, back when she commanded the Throne as Regent in their deceased father's stead.

"Were I only so fortunate, Princess Diantha. But King Allan's word is my law, and my loyalty is his. It is my greatest honor to serve as a Knight of the Crownguard." I announced, as I bowed my humble head to Princess Diantha.

Attempting to appease both of the quarrelling Royal siblings at once was a trick that any member of the King's Court need quickly master.

Both King Allan and his sister could make for deadly political opponents, and it was often wise not to choose a side when King Allan and Princess Diantha regressed into their sibling ways.

"Spoken like a true Knight of the Crownguard. You do my family a noble service, son of Halcyon." Princess Diantha spoke warmly, but I could see the disappointment in her eyes.

I had left my Princess wanting.

The Crown's Shadow was just another pawn of the King. Princess Diantha was silently crestfallen at my predictable proclamation, and my surrender to her brother's service.

And in light of the valor that my Princess's kindness inspired within me, I would rebel against my fate once more.

"Perhaps instead of my poor words, I can offer an example for our audience instead. Would you, fair Princess Diantha, honor me with an exhibition match for this court's sake?"

Another gasp filled the room.

Princess Diantha's eyes widened in awe.

-I am not just a hound of Halcyon.

"My dear Sir Theron! It would be my privilege! Come everyone, to the solar courtyard!" Princess Diantha was positively beside herself with my challenge. She was almost dancing with glee for my boldness.

"Victoria! To me! We have a Halcyon to waste!" Princess Diantha called out in a hoarse battle cry to the solar balcony, and an enchanting musical trill answered her. Descending slowly from a golden spiral stairway, regal and bewitching in her appearance, strode my eidolon's opponent.

Victoria, the Handmaiden.

Victoria, the Valkyrie of Kalos.

Victoria, Princess Diantha's Queenly Gardevoir.

"Goodness me! I've shown you my hand! Sir Theron, I'm afraid that my enthusiasm has presented you with an advantage!" Princess Diantha cried out in theatrics, teasing me with her eyes.

Of course she had given me the advantage.

Princess Diantha could crush my eidolons like insects.

Regardless of that fact, I would play my hand to win.

-But not without first atoning for Princess Diantha's multiple generosities.

"Then it is only fair, Princess Diantha, that I bestow the choice of opponent to you and your Victoria." I snapped my fingers, and a sudden peel of children's shrieks heralded my phantoms' appearances.

"I leave the preferred adversary to your predilection." I gave my Princess a sweeping bow, and gestured to the three Ghosts that had arranged themselves behind me.

Princess Diantha's eyes widened once more.

I was answering her theatrics with Knightly honor.

-Of course my Princess was pleased.

"What of your swords, Sir Theron?" Princess Diantha smirked knowingly at me.

"Of course, my Princess. Pariah. Salute." I whispered, as I rose into a straightened posture once more.

The two swords at my hips shook of their own volition.

Princess Diantha's smile widened.

Both rapiers freed themselves of their sheathes, and a dark vapor formed between the pommels. A pair of indigo slit eyes opened on the rain guards of the cup-hilts, and a ragged tassel of black knotted cloth was suddenly animated at either grip.

The swords that offered themselves to Princess Diantha would have been an embarrassment to any Knight in Kalos, had they been mere blades.

Ruined, pitted, tarnished, chipped and jagged. Ancient and cracked.

Worthless weapons in the hands of a man.

But in the hands of the spirits…

-A Doublade wields terrifying power.

"...Victoria? You make the choice." Princess Diantha simpered. The white lady behind My Princess raised a green finger to her lips, and contemplated each challenger in kind.

Just as Princess Diantha was a Queen of show, so too did her handmaiden possess a disposition for drama.

After a painfully long deliberation, Victoria motioned to the spectral rapiers at my side.

"A good choice." Princess Diantha grinned dangerously at me.

"Pariah. You have been summoned." My blades answered in a flurry of swings and strokes, their edges moaning through more mediums than mere air; both elegant and horrifying in their capricious dance.

We would give Princess Diantha a good show.

...Perhaps my guardian and I would even claim victory in the Champion's field.

"Then let us all proceed to the courtyard at once! ...Why are you all hiding?!" Princess Diantha sounded surprised upon discovering the quivering youths of her court, all of whom were attempting to conceal themselves from the eyes of my Ghosts.

I cleared my throat.

"Thanatos, Exodus, Demeter. Return to your confluences." The same Distortion rifts that had brought the three to me, now opened to reclaim them.

"Pariah, stand by my side. We strike for victory today." The Doublade responded accordingly, returning once more to my sheathes.

"Lady Valerie?" I turned now to my beaming betrothed, and approached her blind eyes with a lordly bearing.

"Would you favor me with your arm in mine, so that my spirit never falters?" I asked in a voice that few who knew me had ever heard before.

Not even Princess Diantha, who had always found a means to conjure that secret me, had ever heard that tone used in Theron Halcyon's voice.

Valerie practically leapt into my arms.

"Of course I will, Theron…" Her soft voice whispered from my armored breast. I claimed a great breath as my own, before tucking my arm in hers. A shaking hand took mine in a firm hold, and quivering knees stood parallel to the unshaken mine.

Valerie understood the subtle connotation of my request.

"Forever and always." I murmured next to her, speaking softly for her ears alone, and Valerie's firm grip on my hand tightened into a bruising vice.

"Come now, you two doting lovebirds! We have a battle to answer!" Princess Diantha herself was in rare form. All ladiness was cast aside in her brash call to arms. A fire drove the Princess to such extraordinary social contradictions that it was impossible for one to not be ruled by her beguiling charm.

The Queen-Regent of Glamour

The Queen of the People.

The Regent of the League.

-Princess Diantha.

...If only she were King…

…

Princess Diantha took her stand in the courtyard bower. Eminence, Princess Diantha's massive Aurous, rose from his lull in the courtyard's western narthex, and shook the entire Solar with his every heavy step towards his Regent. Eminence's form alternately clouded and glossed as his outer layer sublimated in the early spring sun. Facets of sapphire blue gems ran in a uniform row down either side of the marvelous beast, stretching from Eminence's brow to his coiled tail. Though Eminence's boreal hues and sheer scale was a marvel in itself to behold, the most noticeable and wondrous feature of the Aurorus species are their delicate sails, which fan outwards from the sauropod's long neck. Those sails never failed to capture one's breath in awe with their ever shifting chromatophores and the wavering mirage projected by the sublimating membrane.

The namesake for the Aurorus species.

The neck-sails, which possess a startling similarity to the midnight auroras that play within the winter skies.

Not every living fossil need resemble a spined and craggy saurischia, a gelatinous cephalopod, or an armored frilled euarthropod.

Some living fossils could be beautiful. And Eminence, the Winter Ballista was the most spectacular example thus far unearthed from that permineralized genetic code.

Dipping his colossal gem studded helm into Princess Diantha's arms with an almost canine like behavior, Eminence sought some small exchange of affection between himself and his Regent. Princess Diantha cradled the beast's massive jaw, and bumped her cheek against Eminence's crown jewel. Normally, touching a powerful Ice-Type such as an Aurorus would result in instant frostbite, but Eminence's sublimating carapace insulated Princess Diantha's hands from the burning cold nitrogen flowing through his veins. A sudden and shrill shriek interrupted Princess Diantha and Eminence's kinly iteration, as Mosaic, Princess Diantha's painted Vivillon, intruded upon the formalities for her own selfish want of Princess Diantha's attentions.

Mosaic, or Mosaic the Ninth, was the eighth generation descendant of Princess Diantha's very first Pokemon. One of Princess Diantha's hobbies was the collection and breeding of Vivillons, and her League Champion training skills could turn even a seemingly benign Vivillon into a top tier Championship fighter. Vivillons were infamous for their concentrated sedative dusts, and with the proper instruction, Vivillons could even poison themselves with their own wing scales by quivering their bodies in an agitated dance. Though this technique further decreased a Vivillon's fleeting life expectancy, the autointoxication also served to temporarily stimulate the Vivillon's immunity response, dramatically increasing the insect's constitution, reflexes, and mental faculties.

Princess Diantha's Vivillons have single handedly decimated many a challenger's teams through clever use of their sedative dust, before the Mosaic linage overloaded their biologics with their own airborne psychostimulants, and then proceeded to sweep the opposing roster with psionically convected micro-cyclones.

One might even call it humiliating, being crushed by a common insect, but Mosaic was no common Vivillon.

Mosaic was Princess Diantha's Vivillon, and a Championship riodinidae is an opponent that is best not measured for lacking. The League challengers who were defeated by Mosaic were the very same challengers who prepared for Princess Diantha's obvious threats, and wrote the Vivillon off as fanciful fodder.

Mosaic the Ninth was a pampered Vivillon, but given the fates of her forbearers, it was morally justified to heedlessly indulge such an insect. Mosaic the First through Mosaic the Eighth had all committed suicide under Princess Diantha's orders. Though the Mosaic bloodline's legacy of flawless sweeps were irrefutably some of Princess Diantha's most awe inspiring matches, the autointoxication took its toll on the drama's primary protagonist. The noble Mosaics had all laid down their lives for a single victory.

Such loyal sacrifices were expected of Knights, not insects.

Seeing as such willful doting was considered acceptable in Mosaic's circumstance, and given Princess Diantha's inexhaustible resources and taste for flair, Mosaic was not only unique amongst all Vivillons in her monumental prowess, but in her aesthetic's artificial additions as well.

Mosaic's wings were painted with mehndi pigments in a shockingly graphic portrayal of Vitiges and the Siege of Rome, with the traditionally barbaric Visigoths inaccurately armored in romanticized Knightly heraldries and riding on horseback, while their bannered lances dipped low for the cowering Roman Senators. The portrait was framed in gold leaf, which had been painstakingly applied to the edges of Mosaic's wings, adding further glamour to the otherwise beautiful riodinidae.

And in less than a week's time, all that finery would fall away, and a new masterpiece would be fashioned on Mosaic's wings.

Such was the splendor of Mosaic IX, Arturia's Painted Typhoon.

Princess Diantha greeted her Vivillon with a soft smile and a raised arm. Running her downy antenna across Princess Diantha's offered wrist, Mosaic gave her Regent a fond caress, before whimsically flitting away into the bower trees.

While I was familiar with Princess Diantha's Championship roster, and accustomed to their stunning mannerisms, the rest of Princess Diantha's court was not so fortunate.

This was the youthful gathering's first audience with the jeweled mountain, Eminence and the flying mural, Mosaic IX. To say that Princess Diantha's entire court was shocked silent was an understatement.

Some of the younger ones were actually weeping in reverence for these royal titans.

But the one titan that held my gaze was the Handmaiden, Victoria.

Apart from her naturalistic jewelry, newly woven from freshly cut flowers, Victoria seemed almost understated amongst her peers.

But to measure Victoria as an equal to the rest of Princess Diantha's Championship court was to debase the Mythical Valkyrie of Kalos.

Victoria Supreme.

Princess Diantha had allied herself to a fay babaylan. Just as my Exodus is the apex of his species, so too did Victoria stand as the mightiest Gardevoir known to the world of men. And just as my amalgamation with Exodus had served to further elevate and secure his claim of superiority…

...A similar synergy had formed between Princess Diantha and Victoria, exponentially reinforcing Victoria's pre-established supremacy.

Like every Noble House of Kalos, ruling House Arturia possessed a collection of Mega-stones, and a single Keystone.

Legendary heirlooms gifted to the Noble Houses before their creator, the mad tyrant AZ, succumbed to his guilt and faded away from history's future.

If Princess Diantha activated her and Victoria's corresponding stones, then an influx of Brink derived primalia would trigger a temporary transmutation in Victoria. The technicalities of such a transformation hadn't been explored or researched by the scientific community since their creation, and all of AZ's subsequent dissertations on the phenomenon had been destroyed by the royalty of Kalos centuries ago.

Mega-Evolution, as the event in question has been dubbed, was a privilege reserved for the Nobility of Kalos.

-And it would remain a privilege solely for the Nobility of Kalos.

The Noble Houses would not risk the possibility of science replicating their heirloom prowess for common applications. The Nobility of Kalos had jealously guarded the secret of Mega-Evolution for nigh on a millennia, and it served as much a symbol of our sovereignty as it served to defend our hegemony.

Half a dozen civil wars had been quelled by the instrumental use of Mega-Evolution. Twice as many wars with Unova, Sinnoh, and even Hoenn had only been won with the aid of our private arsenal.

To keep Kalos's greatest weapons in the post-Brink era out of both the peasantries' and our enemies' hands, the Nobility of Kalos protected The Mad Tyrant's gifts even more fervently than our families' ancestral castles, manors, and chateaux. In Kalos's bleak and violent past, the Nobility's zealous devotion to the power of Mega-Evolution had become something of a religious adherence.

One Keystone per Noble House.

And a number of Mega-stones, granted to us according to each Noble House's civil station.

If Princess Diantha was to call upon Victoria's alternate form, then Pariah and myself would have little else but a prayer for a quick and dignified defeat.

But Princess Diantha was an honorable sportsman.

Due to the incredible disadvantage that such a tactic would present us with, the valiant Princess Diantha would of course restrain herself from such an easy victory.

And besides courtesy, The Queen-Regent of Glamour also favored a spectacle.

Princess Diantha wanted to see if The Crown's Shadow still held his edge.

And I was eager to show my Princess that Sir Theron's blades had not dulled in his service to the Crown, but had rather grown sharpened in their constant use. I needed to prove myself. I needed to win.

Back then…

...I didn't fully realize how severely my unwillingness to accept defeat would come to govern my existence.

Back when my chains of ignorance still bound me to the illusion of freedom.

...Back when I was still Sir Theron of House Halcyon…

"Victoria, are you prepared for this dual?" Princess Diantha followed my gaze to her handmaiden. Victoria's serene countenance loosened with a coy smile.

"Pariah, salute our opponent." I whispered as my rapiers rose from their sheathes yet again. Valerie's arms tighten around mine when Pariah's right pommel brushed against her elbow in his ascent.

"Then take to the field, Victoria. Claim victory for House Arturia yet again."

"Pariah, stand ready and await my command."

Victoria positioned herself between Princess Diantha and myself, while the court of spectators moved to the narthex steps. To the children's surprise, the lofty Eminence rose to accompany the court. Should Princess Diantha's and mine battle exceed secure containment, then the mighty wall presented by Eminence would shield the onlookers from any chaotic discharges.

-And given that this was a Championship match being held within the confines of Parfum's Grand Solar courtyard, the likelihood of unrestrained pandemonium was most probable.

"Sir Theron. Shall we begin?" Princess Diantha was positively beaming when my blades whirled to impart my answer. Valerie's hand took mine as Pariah's ragged edges cleaved through the air around us.

"Well then… VICTORIA!" Princess Diantha's playful demeanor shifted so suddenly that it was shocking.

"-CRUSH THAT GHOST!"

Victoria's swaddling flowers were cast off as a surge psychokinetic energy emanated from her delicate being.

Most Championship psions didn't waste their electromagnetic capabilities on theatrics in battle, and Victoria was no exception. The sheer amount of power generated by her faculties could not be biologically contained without severely damaging Victoria's physiology. The excess potential EM buildup was discharged into the Valkyrie's surroundings with a violent psionic pulse.

Victoria was far above her fellow psions.

The Handmaiden was a Goddess among her kind.

My command to Pariah was not uttered so much in a language as it was conveyed in a extension of my will. Pariah's blades tore through the physical realm, and my swords entered the Distortion. Victoria ceased her charge-up at once.

There was a Ghost in the shadows now.

The Valkyrie need be cautious, as Victoria couldn't strike my Ghost while he hid within the Distortion.

"Wait for it, Victoria. And mind your shadow." Princess Diantha immediately shifted character again.

Calm.

Collected.

Watchful.

Patient.

Princess Diantha's eyes were searching my person for a tell, even as those same eyes warded Victoria's blindsides.

Pariah could strike from any shadow, the most obvious of which would be Victoria's own.

Princess Diantha and her white witch would anticipate such a maneuver.

-And then quickly dismiss it.

It was too obvious a tactic for a Championship match. The Kalos Champion and her Valkyrie would instead seek deception from a Halcyon.

So deception is exactly what Pariah and myself offered to the Queen-Regent of Glamour.

-We attacked from the obvious.

Victoria's shadow split open as Pariah's edge cleaved at the white witch's feet.

Even with the surprise tactic of myself playing predictably, Victoria deftly eluded the first stroke, and attempted to psionically seize my blade in place; locking Pariah between the Distortion and the physical realm.

Of course, Victoria managed to hold my blade.

It was exactly what I had anticipated.

Now the white witch was focusing her powers on drawing my sword out from the nightmare.

So intent was she on dragging Pariah from the Distortion, that Victoria failed to notice the second blade rising from the long shadows of the bower.

"VICTORIA! BEHIND YOU!"

A gasp rose from the young spectators, and Valerie's breath ceased. She couldn't see Pariah's lunge, but my betrothed could feel the palpable tension generated by this conflict.

Victoria released the first blade at once, and teleported to safety before Pariah's projectile edge could sever her spine.

Victoria reappeared mere meters before me, her back facing myself and Valerie. Pariah's first blade rose to hover beside the second, joining hilts with a smoky chain, and for a moment, my unmoved eyes met Princess Diantha's pleased gaze.

Victoria turned to look at me, and gingerly shifted a hand to her lower back. Holding her green fingertips aloft for the court to see, Victoria revealed that my ploy was not altogether unsuccessful.

Blood clung to Victoria's green digits, drawn from a shallow wound on the inner curve of the Handmaiden's spine.

"Well done, Sir Theron. Well done indeed." Princess Diantha smiled at me, as Victoria pressed her stained fingertips into her mouth, and daintily sampled her own blood.

"But I think that I can smell a storm approaching…" Princess Diantha's smile grew wider.

-No.

That wasn't the scent of a storm in the clear and sunny skies.

-That was the odor of ozone, as Victoria utilized her psionics to generate an electrical imbalance between herself and my twin blades.

Pariah tore open a new rift, but this one was not for hiding within.

-It was for cover.

A bolt of lightning deafened the court in a blinding crack, and when the photon induced daze released our optical senses, Victoria still stood before me. The Handmaiden's green hair was now aloft and wild with the electrical charge that her body still conducted.

And an unmarred Pariah shifted from behind a wailing black tear in reality, as if to mock the Valkyrie for her failure.

Victoria's lightning bolt had dissipated before the Distortion's scream.

I was utilizing the electromagnetic pulses of the Distortion rift's event horizon to redirect Victoria's electrical current.

I witnessed Princess Diantha gnashing her teeth in frustration, even as her eyes flared with a wild passion.

My expressionless countenance remained unchanged.

This was proving to be a true challenge for the Princess and her Knight.

I may not have been revealing the strain, but the reflexive tactics were exacting a toll on my faculties. Victoria's attacks were so sudden and powerful that I was allotted split seconds to formulate a defense for my Pariah.

But defending was all that I could do for now.

Through my clever use of the Distortion rifts, Pariah was able to elude Victoria's psionic and electrical attacks. But as for assuming the offensive…

It was still too early to commit to that effort.

Once I revealed that hand, Victoria's teleportation could easily thwart my trump card.

I needed Victoria to exhaust a significant portion of her Bio-EM charges before I even dared to consider that move.

"Victoria, we are simply not paying the young Knight the respect that he deserves. No more toying about. Break his Ghost." Princess Diantha spoke in that charming candor, and Victoria shot me a wicked smile.

"Destroy Pariah."

The blinding and deafening bolts of lightning were conjured again, one quarrel striking after another. Stones were rising into the air, and converging onto my frantically swinging blades. Pariah's strokes met the lightning with Distortion screams, and his whirling parries deflected the psionically hurled stones. My Ghost could not tire, but this siege was ceaseless and nigh overwhelming.

In time, Victoria would find a flaw in Pariah's defenses.

And once that flaw was discovered, Victoria's certain exploitation would bring me ruin.

I needed a new defense.

But Victoria revealed to me that there was no such defense against the Valkyrie of Kalos.

A third avenue of attack besieged my Pariah.

-And this method was not one that I had priorly expected.

It took me a moment to realize Victoria's design. The effects were not immediately apparent. But when Victoria's capabilities were revealed…

-The greatest asset at my disposal was exposed as a fatal liability.

Victoria was psionically destabilizing Pariah's Distortion rift.

As a Shadow of House Halcyon, I am rather familiar with the hyperspace properties of Distortion rifts.

All humility aside, I am actually considered an expert in such matters, even amongst my own kin.

So when a condensed portion of Pariah's Distortion rift broke away from the event horizon, my educated mind immediately realized the risk of leaving Pariah's Distortion rift open.

-Victoria could use my own devices to banish my spirits into the Distortion and seal them away.

A rapid judgement of the scenario left me with mere seconds to make one of two risky decisions.

One, I could seal the Distortion rift, and expose Pariah to Victoria's electrical attacks.

Two, I could have Pariah retreat into the Distortion in hopes that my Ghost could escape before Victoria reconfigured the rift to her purposes-

-Or option three. Something unpredictable could occur.

Pariah sealed the compromised Distortion rift with one blade, and opened a new Distortion rift with the other.

The fracturing Distortion rift harmlessly dissipated, and the siege remained in contest.

Pariah's blades had exchanged duties seamlessly. The edge that had warded against the lightning now fended off the stones.

I was completely taken aback.

-I hadn't given Pariah an order!

My bewildered expression even caught Princess Diantha off guard, compounding her own shock regarding Pariah's skillful exchange.

I didn't even know how my Ghost had managed to perform such a flawless adaption.

"...Victoria. Cease." Princess Diantha was looking at me pensively.

The Valkyrie paused her onslaught, before turning to me with a curious look in her eye.

Our battle was placed on hold.

"Sir Theron? How did you do that?" Princess Diantha asked in a monotone. Princess Diantha's question reflected my sudden intuition.

"...That's not supposed to be possible…" I murmured, looking to my own blades with suspicion.

-Was that an illusion?

"...I could have sworn that a Doublade's swords were supposed to act separately in their hyperspace functions. One sword can open a rift. The other sword can seal a rift. But neither blade can do both." Princess Diantha fixed me with a cold eye.

"You are correct, Princess Diantha. A Doublade's swords have distinctly opposed interdimensional polarities… That cannot have just happened…"

I was utterly mystified.

"...Is Pariah the only Ghost on the field, Sir Theron? Or is Exodus undermining League policies from the shadows?" Princess Diantha asked in an icy tone.

-My Princess thought that I was cheating?

"No, I swear. Victoria… did you detect any ignoble interventions from my behalf?" I offered myself to the Handmaiden's scrutiny, and the white witch looked to her Regent for allowance.

But my Princess was above such trivial machinations.

Similar to her brother King Arturia, Princess Diantha shared the Royalty's implicit trust in the words of Sir Theron of House Halcyon.

"...I do believe you, Sir Theron. There is no need to violate your mind." Princess Diantha's attentions shifted from me to my Ghost.

"...So how did it happen?"

I swallowed.

I had a theory, but first-

"Pariah, open two rifts." I commanded, vocalizing my intent for our audience's sake.

My blades did nothing.

"Open a single rift."

Pariah's primary rapier tore open the Distortion.

"Good. Now open a rift with the other blade."

Pariah did nothing.

"Unless our eyes were deceived, Pariah maintained two rifts for a split second, before sealing one with the same blade that opened it. Any thoughts on how that could possible, Sir Theron?" Princess Diantha asked me. I turned once more to Victoria.

"What property did Victoria exploit to destabilize the Distortion rift? Only Ghosts and Interlopers possess the capability to incite hyperspace anomalies. If Victoria is pioneering psionic Distortion manipulation-"

"You think that our little psionic exploration into the field of Distortion supersymmetry might have some unforeseen variables?" Princess Diantha asked, her own tone growing excited.

"It must have been… -I believe that you and Victoria may have actually stumbled upon an inconsistency with Newcomb's second law… Or… By altering the Distortion rift's supersymmetry, which could only be manipulated through hyperspace polarization…" My fingers snapped as an explanation occurred to me, its portents supported by the established quantum diction.

"-Victoria also reversed the polarity of Pariah's blades, effectively switching the catalysts of the hyperspace latch-key dynamic… That's it! Pariah must have sealed the destabilized rift and opened the new rift in a reflexive response to the altered polarities of his blades!" I looked over towards Princess Diantha with a hint of triumph brightening my face.

My Princess began to laugh.

"You could be onto something, Sir Theron! Except-"

Princess Diantha fixed me with an amused eye.

"-I lied. Victoria didn't psionically alter the Distortion rift's supersymmetry to achieve that little ploy. I wouldn't betray my training secrets so readily, and neither would you, Sir Theron." Princess Diantha chuckled.

I could stare at my laughing Princess in disbelief.

-She thought that this was all just theatrical banter?

"You are truly the prodigy that I marked you for! However did you manage to teach Pariah such a trick? No, no, don't tell me! I must discern the means on my own!" Princess Diantha bent at the knees for all of her laughter, allocating the time I required to acclimate myself in this unusual development.

"...Of course, Princess Diantha. Forgive me for my tasteless musings." I collected myself, and set the the unanswered predicament aside for later contemplation.

Princess Diantha found her voice, though she still struggled to restrain the mirth.

"Forgive me, Sir Theron. I couldn't resist. You are positively adorable when you're perplexed!"

That was a new insinuation used in correlation to my persona. No one had ever referred to me as adorable before. No one had ever found me so amusing.

Valerie's arm tightened around mine, and her laughter followed Princess Diantha's outburst of mirth.

"My adorable Sir Theron…" Valerie teased, bringing a fresh shade of red to my pallor.

Valerie's warm and playful spirit had endured both her mutilation and the emotional trauma that followed her recovery. And apparently, our time apart hadn't taxed Valerie's mischievous nature either.

"Dear me, and we even have an audience." Princess Diantha gestured to the nervous youths clustered beneath the jeweled Eminence.

"Lady Valerie, for the sake of our flustered Sir Theron, let us draw this vexing sport to a close." Princess Diantha mastered herself against the mirth, and Valerie conquered her giggles.

I however, was struggling to repress the unfamiliar complexion that was currently warming my face.

"Sir Theron, do you require a moment?" Princess Diantha asked, that teasing smile glowing in her eyes as well as upon the arches of her cheeks.

I cleared my throat. It was all that I could utter in reply. Humility held my tongue in a knot.

-Now even Victoria was laughing at me.

"...Let us… Proceed with the battle." I rasped when words could at last be mustered from my throat.

"Very well, my young Knight. I hope that you have more surprises in store for both myself and Victoria…" Princess Diantha's smile shifted, and a haughty look hardened her eyes.

"Pariah-"

"Victoria-"

"-Do not fail me."

"-For House Arturia."

Pariah whirled about, cleaving a crescent seam above his corporeal form with a deft stroke. Once more, the voices of the Distortion came forth, just as the air crackled with electricity and a fresh volley of stones lifted around Victoria.

Victoria began her siege anew, as Pariah sank within the shadows yet again.

"Victoria! Stand ready!"

It was still too early.

But if this design of mine failed…

Then it was already too late.

My eyes met Princess Diantha's in a cold challenge.

She wanted to see what I had taught mine guardian?

"Pariah. Initiate."

I only spoke my command aloud for effect.

For a prayer of success, this premature tactic would require every asset of mine exploited.

Even the small surprise of my spoken command.

Victoria's eyes widened.

Her psionic perception sensed what was mounting between our realm and the Distortion.

"Victoria-?"

"-NOW PARIAH!"

I never shouted, and the harsh sound of Sir Theron's howl stunned even Princess Diantha.

Beside me, Valerie's breath caught within her throat.

Now we could all feel it.

This seemingly unmarked world was being carved into a Distortion sub-cell.

Victoria tensed.

The shocking revelation waylaid the white witch's escape.

A smile lifted the left corner of my mouth.

Flawless.

We were all trapped.

-Even the Valkyrie of Kalos.

"You missed your chance, my Princess." My cruel voice uttered forth. Princess Diantha stiffened as the world began to darken all around us.

Distortion sub-cell immersion is not a recorded capability of Doublades. They simply do not possess the Distortion affinity required to submerge a pocket of our existence into an outer shell of a realm devoid of space or time. But I wasn't utilizing Pariah's lackluster Distortion affinity to sink our physical realm into the immaterial plane.

I had conceived of an alternate means to achieve such a spectacular end.

The edges of a Doublade are unique among all apparitions in their hyperspace functions. Such eidolon instruments possess a pair of distinctly opposed interdimensional polarities.

One blade to open the Distortion.

One blade to seal the resulting rift.

Unlike every other spirit known, Doublades essentially 'cut and weave' their way into and out of the Distortion.

Most wraiths breach the string barrier through dimensional refraction brought about by alternating the mass charges of the single-dimension particles intrinsic to the foundations of our mundane realm. By generating gravitational discrepancies between these single-dimension particles, the spirits effectively 'part the strings' that comprise quantum space. By redirecting the string's supersymmetry core axis into the hollow beyond time and space via gravitationally collapsing an inertly charged boson cloud, the boundary between matter and decay gives way to the infinite nothing that lies beneath quantum space.

We know this nothing as the Distortion.

And as the Ghosts have long since confirmed…

...This anti-space is not completely void of existence.

Even within the Distortion, some form of intangible materiel can persist.

And thanks to my inspired use of Pariah's opposingly polarized hyperspace blades to 'cut and weave' an inertly charged boson cloud…

Princess Diantha, Valerie, Victoria, myself, and indeed: the entire court present within the Grand Solar's courtyard, were now subjects of the immaterial plane.

This was far from a full scaled sub-cell immersion however.

Pariah's improvisation left ragged tears in the fabric of quantum space.

In short, rather than a 'pocket' of the physical realm descending into the Distortion…

...Pariah had instead fashioned a 'net' with which to catch the divided portions of the physical realm.

Unlike conventional Distortion sub-cells, escape from this flawed Distortion sub-cell was entirely possible.

By simply crossing the physical parameters of Pariah's 'net,' even a child could free themselves from this fledgling hell with ease.

But neither Princess Diantha or her Victoria knew this.

They were far too overcome by Pariah's apparent immunity to his species's limitations.

And as far as mundane perception is concerned…

Dark is dark.

Night is night.

If it looks and feels like a perfect Distortion sub-cell…

...Then it must be a perfect Distortion sub-cell.

And this total darkness was most certainly reminiscent of a sojourn to the beyond.

"Forfeit, my Princess. It is futile to contest a spirit within their own realm." My sly voice reverberated throughout the fractured matter and dilated time.

It could be eons before my shattered words reached the ears of Valerie, who even in a realm devoid of sequential perception, still stood frozen beside me.

And yet, we would never feel the passage of that irrelevant timeframe.

This absolute nothing was sheer madness to those of us alien to its paradoxical principles.

An overlapping laugh answered my smug ultimatum.

I knew better than to seek the origins of that outcry of mirth in this disjointed realm.

But I was curious as to my Princess's confidence all the same.

"You are brilliant, Sir Theron! I have so grossly underestimated your genius! You are a pioneer among imitators! Fresh innovation drawn from a stagnant pool of erudition! But you should know better then to request surrender from a Champion..."

A light formed within the darkness, and my startled eyes beheld Victoria as its source.

-No.

That couldn't be possible…

Princess Diantha stepped from behind the Valkyrie of Kalos, and a wavering monochromatic image of the Grand Solar's courtyard flickered into two dimensional form within the light.

"...Just as you are a genius in your craft, Sir Theron of Noble House Halcyon…"

Victoria's wicked smile fell upon me with a dreadful portent.

My heart fell as the realization sank in.

"...So too is Princess Diantha of Ruling House Arturia a genius in her art…" Princess Diantha's voice sounded no less smug than my own previous intonation.

-Victoria was psionically maintaining a portion of quantum space by her mental fortitude alone!

"...It is I who grossly underestimated my Champion, Princess Diantha…" My voice grew choked.

My greatest weapon was compromised by a stipulation that I could never have foreseen.

-Just how much hyperspace manipulation could Victoria psionically enact?

"Well then…" I swallowed my dry throat. Princess Diantha folded her arms with a pleased expression upon her relaxed visage.

"...On with my final trick. Pariah. Make use of what you can."

The darkness filled with a cacophony of ringing blades.

Victoria and Princess Diantha whirled about.

There were thousand of them rising from the iron dark.

Millions.

Billions.

Infinite.

Pariahs.

The fractured timescape of this imperfect sub-cell imparted an unusual asset to my guardian.

The Ghosts do not abide by the laws of time and space.

This storm of Doublades was not some illusion cast by my spirit to unnerve our foes.

Every one of them was real.

Tangible.

Jagged.

Tarnished.

Death.

Pariah existed in every shard of broken time. A Doublade emerged from each piece of dismembered space.

The spatial dynamics of this device is every bit as easy to quantify as it is to articulate a counter statement to a timeless and facetious phrase.

"One cannot be within two places at once."

Well-

-Within this impossible hell…

...My Pariah could be everywhere at once.

"...Ingenious…" Princess Diantha audibly whispered in wonder.

Victoria wasted not one psionically retained second of time.

A wavering barrier of alternating electromagnetic pulses surrounded the Valkyrie and her Regent as an entire plane of swords descended upon the white witch's condensed reality, and the following crash born from of a sea of striking blades echoed endlessly within the Distortion's wake.

But even though that jarring dissonance was deafening and overwhelming to our displaced perception, it revealed the failure of Pariah's attack.

There would be no crash if Pariah's blades had rent flesh.

And now I beheld Victoria's counter.

Pariah warped and twisted into blackened slag across the numerous fractured timescapes.

Earlier timescapes of Pariah were spared the psion's retaliation.

But every timescape following the origin of Pariah's fall began to collapse in alternating states of decay.

Countless eidolon clones were wasted in the blink of an eye.

Just as a single Pariah could exist in of multitude of spatial divisions at once…

...So too could a single Pariah fail in a multitude of spatial divisions at once.

The scrapped steel and twinkling dust cleared, and there stood a legend, unscathed and unshaken at death's very core.

The Valkyrie of Kalos, with her smiling Regent at her side.

-Victoria Supreme.

...It was almost impossible for me to conceive of a greater power yet untapped in this confrontation.

But neither Princess Diantha or Victoria had deemed it necessary to activate their relics.

This incontestable fay babaylan had yet to reveal her true majesty.

"Victoria, bring us back home." Princess Diantha smiled apologetically at me.

Victoria screamed as she summoned a focus for her psionic disciplines, and the two-dimensional monochromatic image of the Grand Solar's courtyard began to take upon corporeal form in three-dimensional perception.

Victoria could pull a Distortion sub-cell apart?!

This epiphany revealed a dire portent.

My defeat was certain.

-But I would not submit to futility just yet.

"PARIAH! SLAY VICTORIA!"

My desperate roar was answered by a renewal of Pariah's immeasurable numbers.

Every converging particle of the previously shattered timescape birthed another Doublade, and my sea of swords moved in an endless chain of spectral edges as Pariah concentrated his attack upon a single section of Victoria's barrier.

It was not too late to secure victory.

We only had to breach-

"VICTORIA! CRUSH THAT FLY!"

And just as my Princess commanded…

...The boundless ribbon of Doublades compacted and withered away as their corporeal substances were psychokinetically divided at the molecular level.

A torrential river of dust and twisted metal broke against Victoria's wavering barrier-

-Before the realm of space and time enveloped Princess Diantha's imprisoned court with warm solar light and a thick and pleasant atmosphere.

Free of the Distortion, beautiful earth graced us with all the splendor of life's awareness.

But among the the emancipated fold, I alone grieved the return of reality.

I had lost-

I…

Theron Halcyon…

...Had finally lost.

"A splendid battle, my dear Sir Theron. You are truly a prodigy among all who aspire to the Champion's throne." Princess Diantha sighed with a relieved shudder, now that the haunting dark of the Distortion had faded away. Victoria staggered against her Regent's shoulder.

The white witch was utterly spent.

Princess Diantha cradled her Gardevoir's delicate body against her own, and kissed Victoria's green crown with her tender lips.

"Well done, Theron. You have proven yourself a worthy adversary." Victoria's sealed eyelids fluttered, and her red eyes opened to hold me in a fond gaze. That same kind look was worn by the Regent who pressed her cheek against the white witch's brow.

But for all their gentle condolences, I was cold to every one of their intentions.

I had lost…

"You… You were m-magnificent, T-Theron…"

A shaken voice shuddered from my shoulder, and a pang of guilt stabbed itself into my breast.

My ailing fiancée…

I had dragged Valerie into a Distortion sub-cell for my own selfish want of a victory…

...I might as well have set Demeter lose upon my beloved betrothed.

As if to capitalize on my shame, the sounds of frantic tears and panicked wails rose forth from beyond Eminence's crystalline mass.

-My blind ambition had subjugated the children as well...

"Valerie- I'm- I..." Burning shame now choked me, compounded by the weight of my failure.

Valerie's arm tightened on mine.

"I'm fine, Sir Theron. I'm just… Just a little bit shaken." Valerie's feeble voice did nothing to convince me of her claim. A sickness filled me for my insensitive actions, yet mine arms pulled Valerie even closer to my breast all the same.

"Valerie, I didn't mean- I'm not accustomed-"

How foolish I sounded.

-I'm not accustomed to caring?

Were those the terrible and weak words that I had deigned to utter to mine future wife?

"Theron, be at ease. They will all be cared for. No spectator of this confrontation need suffer the aftereffects of the nightmare. I give you my word-"

Princess Diantha paused mid sentence and gasped.

My wet eyes lifted from Valerie's raven crown, and my vision beheld an accursed miracle.

A chanting spatial wound had opened within the Grand Solar's courtyard.

-How could it be?

I'd watched him wither across an infinite swath…

...How?

-How could my guardian still stand?

"P-Pariah?"

There he was, sealing the Distortion rift that he had newly risen from.

My guardian. Positioned between me, and Princess Diantha.

A pair of spectral indigo eyes faced me.

-My twin blades awaited my command.

"He was only just banished! He couldn't have reconstituted a physical form already!" Princess Diantha cried out.

If mine ears were not deceived, there was a note of fear in the Champion's voice.

"Does Pariah still stand?" Valerie gasped from my breastplate.

It was then that something happened to me.

Some heedless abandon seized me, and warped my countenance into an uncharacteristic outburst.

This was something that I had previously only ever displayed under faux circumstances.

There was something borne from mine mouth, and that hideous and unused sound vexed every ear that stood in attendance.

-Laughter.

Theron Virgil Halcyon only ever laughed to mock, distract, and demoralize.

Never to celebrate his disbelief or joy.

I was laughing in euphoria.

-Pariah yet stood!

"Pariah… My blades… My dear Pariah!" I was possessed with a peculiar fondness for my cancerous wraith. A madness overcame me, and I struggled against the irrational urge to kiss the first Ghost to have laid a claim upon my life.

"Princess Diantha! Send forth your Valkyrie! We have not yet met the conclusion of this battle!"

That was my voice.

It was a voice that I had never heard before.

It sounded…

...Joyous?

Princess Diantha's wide eyes and gaping mouth rejected this impossible scene.

Pariah had fallen to Victoria within the collapsing Distortion sub-cell.

It had taken every ounce of Victoria's considerable strength to tear that abominable realm asunder while simultaneously destroying the repulsive wraith that had created it.

-And yet here he stood.

My Pariah.

Unmarred.

Unbroken.

Unbanished.

Standing at the ready. Prepared to finish the battle whose victory we had so feverishly set ourselves upon.

"Victoria?" Princess Diantha looked down at her feeble Gardevoir with trepidation.

The red eyes of Victoria slammed tightly shut.

Then with an enraged display of dignity, the Valkyrie of Kalos pushed her nurturing Regent roughly aside.

A staggering Victoria marched into the center of the field, and glared down at the impetuous Ghost that refuse to fall to her.

"Victoria?" Princess Diantha's wounded voice carried within it a trace of worry.

Victoria's trembling green fists tightened.

I saw my Princess swallow.

This battle had only just begun.

And to Pariah and I at last, fell the advantage.

Victoria was footsteps away from her limit.

And miraculous Pariah had not yet revealed his.

-Victory could still be ours!

"PARIAH-!"

"VICTORIA-!"

That was as far as my Princess or I came to vocalizing our intentions.

A new voice rang across the Grand Solar's courtyard.

A voice that both Princess Diantha and I recognized within an instant.

"CEASE THIS MADNESS AT ONCE! WE COMMAND IT!"

-The King of Kalos.

A furious King Arturia strode across the Grand Solar's courtyard with all twenty-six of my fellow Crownguard Knights in tow. The Knight-Commander, Lord Gregory Wikstrom maintained a steady march directly behind the King's right shoulder.

"Diantha! For the love of the Crown! We were trying to sleep!" King Arturia roared.

My liege certainly seemed garbed for such a peaceful pastime.

"Good evening, King Arturia. I apologize for causing you any slight discomfort in your attempt at leisure. Father knows how you hate waking for any purpose other than to dine." Princess Diantha's voice was no less condescending than her words.

"A bleeding League match?! In our palace!? How dare you!" King Arturia's nightgown swaddled figure passed me and my betrothed without even a glance.

"Oh yes, how dare I utilize our family's palace for my own purposes." Princess Diantha growled at her younger brother. A half circle of Knights formed around the battlefield, placing Princess Diantha, King Arturia, Lord Wikstrom, Valerie, Victoria, Pariah, and myself upon the center of the Royal drama's stage.

"Oh hullo, Lord Wikstrom! It is so good to see that you could attend my little party! Even if your arrival is somewhat belated, the effort to satisfy your Champion's humble request has been duly noted." Princess Diantha almost sounded friendly when she directed her ire unto the Iron Lord.

"My apologizes, Princess Diantha. Had I the time, I would have been honored to attend your soiree. But the King had need of my services in the Ellis archipelago deliberations. I'm afraid that House Wikstrom's military input in such matters must take precedence over entertaining your guests." Lord Wikstrom replied with a humble bow.

"Yes, we requested the service of House Wikstrom in resolving Unova's little incursion into Kalos's and Sinnoh's shared waters. We also requested your appearance in our Court-" King Arturia began, but his sister wouldn't let him finish.

"-I'm not some puppet of yours, Allan. You wouldn't pay any credence to my opinion on the matter anyways! You just wanted me to address the Court with your controversial words for you again!" Princess Diantha rounded on her sibling with a spitting fury.

"SILENCE! Do not speak to your King with such venom!" King Arturia roared over his sister's accusation.

"I WILL SPEAK TO MY STUPID BROTHER IN ANY WAY THAT I SEE FIT! REGARDLESS OF THE CROWN UPON HIS HEAD!" Princess Diantha's voice sounded even louder than her brother's, and King Arturia stepped back before her spittle.

"Diantha, stop this! You are making a scene of yourself!" King Arturia hissed, but his sister only laughed in reply.

"I'm making a scene?! At least I saw fit to adequately garb myself before addressing my guests!" Princess Diantha gestured towards Eminence, who raised his blue and ivory bulk upon all four legs, and revealed the minor court of wide-eyed and traumatized children that cowered beneath the sauropod's belly.

"Damn your eyes, Diantha…" King Arturia shook with rage. Lord Wikstrom made a quick gesture, and a troop of Knights broke formation to guide the weeping youths out of the Grand Solar's courtyard.

"Bring them to the Red Galley! Ensure that my guests are afforded every luxury befitting a King!" Princess Diantha hollered after the retreating Knights.

"You heard the Princess! See to it that the children are taken care of!" Lord Wikstrom barked to his inferior Knights.

"Sir Theron!"

My arm left its protective hold on Valerie, and Knightly discipline brought my form into a stiff and straightened posture.

"Yes, your Majesty?" Sir Theron answered his King.

King Arturia glared at me, though he struggled to find any error with my current bearing.

"Leave him be, Allan. I requested an exhibition match from Sir Theron with which to entertain my guests. The noble Knight was acting under my orders." Princess Diantha lied to her brother's face in order to draw his fury from me and onto her.

-I positively adored Princess Diantha at that moment.

"Our Crownguard is not at your disposal to serve as League playthings, Diantha!" King Arturia roared at his sister.

"For the love of God, Allan! It was a Pokemon Battle! Not a fucking war!" Princess Diantha pushed past King Arturia to collect her gasping Victoria. Holding the exhausted Gardevoir protectively, Princess Diantha attempted to hide her tears in Victoria's green crown.

Only I could see my Princess weep, and pity drove me forth to defend her.

"Your Majesty, I beg of you. Please, spare the Princess of your wrath. I take full responsibility for any displeasure my challenge suffered upon the King." I knelt between Princess Diantha and King Arturia, inclining my neck in a display of prostration.

"Sir Theron-?!"

"It was I and my Pariah who created the disturbance that roused your excellency from his needed sleep. I should have restrained myself against such outrageous exhibits. I have failed you, my King." I cut Princess Diantha startled outcry off before she could draw the King's attention away from this lowly Knight.

King Arturia was breathing heavily through his nostrils when both he and Lord Wikstrom came to stand over me.

"No, Sir Theron. You have not failed your King. We understand how… The Princess's conventions can beguile those misfortunate enough to partake roles within them. But be that as it may, Halcyon, you still need remember your place. You are our Knight. You belong to your King first, and no others second." King Arturia growled over me.

"Rise, Sir Theron. Do not disgrace the ceinture of the Crownguard by tainting it with dirt." Lord Wikstrom curtly order after a long silence had been observed.

I rose from my palms and knees, and faced the Knight-Commander.

"Fall in with your fellow Knights. We will discuss the punishment for your conduct later, Sir Theron." Lord Wikstrom commanded.

I pivoted on a heel, and made to fulfill my assigned duty.

"Hold, Sir Theron."

I froze stiff.

Princess Diantha's cold voice drew every other eye onto her person.

"Delay the Knight-Commander's order. Take Lady Valerie of House Le-Faye out on a tour of Parfum's gardens. I expect both of your companies at my Solar by six-o'clock this evening, so as to dine with me. Do not tarry." Princess Diantha ordered.

I couldn't move.

Princess Diantha had the authority to rescind Lord Wikstrom's command, but my King had not released me from my duty-

"Ensure that my guest leaves Parfum Palace with a more pleasant memory than that of her bedraggled King and his quarreling sister." Princess Diantha commanded.

I swallowed hard.

"Sir Theron, you are to return to your post among the Crownguard. Princess Diantha's guest will have to find her own way-" King Allan began.

"GO TO HELL, ALLAN! THE GIRL IS BLIND, YOU SELFISH BRAT!" Princess Diantha's full fury returned in a volcanic fit of spit and obscenities.

"YOU RUIN EVERYTHING THAT I CARE ABOUT! YOU ARE CONSTANTLY STEPPING ON MY FRIENDS! TAKE YOUR FUCKING CROWN AND WIPE YOUR FUCKING ARSE WITH IT!" Princess Diantha was standing on her brother's toes, her ragged breaths baking my King's sweating brow. King Arturia shrank beneath his sister's wrath, gaping at the quivering Princess who was barely restraining herself from strangling her younger brother.

I could hardly breathe past the palatable dread of this escalating Royal exchange.

-I could only wait for an order to act.

In the end, the order came neither from King Arturia or Princess Diantha. Instead, Lord Wikstrom parted the siblings with his bold and steady decree.

"Sir Theron, guide the fair Lady Valerie on a tour of Parfum's gardens. You are to report to the Grand Solar's dining hall with the Lady of House Le-Faye at six-o'clock tonight. When your evening meal has concluded, you are to return to your quarters immediately, and carry out a thorough purging of Parfum's whispers with your revenants. You have your orders, Knight. You are dismissed."

The courageous Lord Wikstrom was not entirely devoid of mercy.

I quickly returned to my fiancée's side, and took her shaking arm in a firm hold, before I escorted my beloved Valerie away from the Royal scene. Pariah faded away into the Distortion with an unspoken command of my own, while the lovely Lady Valerie alongside the haunted Sir Theron departed the Grand Solar courtyard with all due haste.

"Once again, Allan, you shame our family with your childish outbursts-"

The great gate of the narthex hall sealed behind both myself and Valerie, cutting Princess Diantha's recrimination short.

We proceed through the gilded halls of Parfum in absolute silence.

It was only when we entered Parfum's immaculate gardens that I realized…

...I was alone with my future wife.

For the first time in our lives…

It was just Valerie and I.

…

"...So his Sir Theron of House Halcyon serves the Crown in the dual capacities of the Royal Inquisitor and as a Knight of the Noble Order of the Crownguard?" Valerie asked softly when the silence and scents of the gardens rose to embrace our senses.

"...Valerie…"

My voice still carried with it an apology; a plea for forgiveness, and an admission of shame.

But mine beloved fiancée would hear none of it.

"Theron, please. It has been years since I spoke with you last. Fear not for me. I have walked the Distortion's planes before, and I am none the worse for your brilliant display." Valerie pulled herself all the more tightly against me, and I struggled against the urge to pull her into my arms.

The gardens were not entirely empty, and any unseemly conduct perpetrated by mine person would reflect poorly upon both House Halcyon and the Crownguard.

Cherishing my future wife, be it in privacy or in public, would cause no end of scandal for both mine Knightly Order and our respective Noble Houses.

"Did you… Did you receive my letters?" I asked softly.

Valerie stopped walking.

"Which letters, Sir Theron? Your last written words to me arrived four years ago." Valerie asked.

I swallowed.

I had regularly written to my fiancée since we had been parted last, and though Valerie had never replied, I had always assumed that her silence pertained to either mine future wife's condition or some obligation of her Noble station.

"Just… Just a week ago I wrote to you, as I did the preceding week. I…" I swallowed again, and straightened myself against the obvious grief.

"...You sent word?" Valerie asked, her own voice growing faint.

"Twice every month... Ever since…" I whispered hoarsely.

-Someone had been intercepting my letters to Valerie…

"They were… rarely touching, but I… I wanted you to know…" I closed my eyes tightly as an oppressive brooding overcame my demeanor. Who would delay mine letters to Valerie?

House Halcyon?

House Le-Faye?

...Or perhaps even the Crown?

Did some office no longer wish for me to communicate with mine future wife?

And for what reason? I could discern an agenda pertaining to the matter depending upon what bureau was responsible for my apparent silence.

However, my methodical internal deliberations were interrupted by a gasping peal.

"Theron…" Valerie's wounded voice rasped forth, and a sudden spasm of coughs brought my fiancée into a staggering curl.

Gently guiding Valerie to one of the garden's marble benches, I sought some sequestered sanctum to ease my future wife's labored breathing.

Forgetting my station, and ignoring the honor of mine House, my mailed arms cradled Valerie tenderly.

I spoke not a word as I slowly rocked her weightless figure back and forth, while Valerie overcame the chronic breathlessness that had plagued her since the mutilation.

A vibrantly clothed hand took hold of my shoulder, and Valerie desperately clung to my person.

But it was neither the fear nor the pain of her failing body that drew such heedless affection from my fiancée.

It was a longing, a reaffirmation, a disbelief at my presence, and a desire for my continued presence.

"...Theron…" Valerie weakly murmured my name, before a minor fit shattered her breath again.

I could hear the rattle of my fiancée's lungs in every exhaled wind.

I could feel the spaces in between Valerie's ribs from where my unarmored under arm pressed against her side.

A lump formed within my throat.

What I held against my person was hollow, fragile, failing.

Barely still living…

My wife to be.

-My beloved Valerie.

I don't know how long the two of us held one another within the potential sight of the Parfum Court.

Scandal and hearsay be damned.

This was mine wife, and no code nor station would ever come before this duty.

"...I'm sorry…" Valerie gasped when breath could fill her torn lungs again.

My arms tightened, and my face buried itself further into her raven hair.

"Valerie… I promised you…" I whispered softly into her ear, no tone of dread or pain revealed in my loving voice.

A veiled arm rose to hold my head against hers, and for moment, neither of us knew the fear. Neither of us suffered the uncertainty.

"You do your House a proud service, Sir Theron of House Halcyon." Valerie reluctantly drew away from me in a proper display of the social expectations imposed by her courtly station.

I however, faltered when my arms no longer held the woman who would one day be mine wife.

"To have achieved a station within the Noble Order of the Crownguard at such a young age, and to be trusted so implicitly by the King as to serve his majesty as the Royal Inquisitor? House Halcyon stands most favored by your service." Valerie's courtly composure was regained so suddenly that even I was struck dumb by the rapid transition. What few eyes had played witness to mine and Valerie's less than formal exchange may even have doubted Valerie's recent display of frailty.

And though I was awed by Valerie's stately bearing, my own countenance had need to match my fiancée's facade, and play the Kalosian Court's two-faced game.

"And you, Lady Valerie, have done aught but honor House Le-Faye with your steadfast commitment. The Gymnase Meister of Laverre City? My modest station simply cannot compare." I cordially replied with a humble gesture towards the elegant lady beside me.

"Your words are too kind, Sir Theron." Lady Valerie inclined her head to the origin of my voice. We both settled back against the marble bench, and I turned my detached gaze south, towards the interior of Parfum Palace's outlying wall.

We observed a moment of dignified silence, before Sir Theron conducted the introduction of a new avenue of conversation.

"I received word regarding your uncle's fate. On behalf of House Halcyon, I wish to offer our condolences to House Le-Faye for your family's loss." I stated dispassionately.

-Courtesy is ever the shallow formal adherence.

"It was a travesty, of that there is no doubt. The late Lord Albert Le-Faye will be sorely missed. Long live the glories of House Le-Faye." Valerie uttered in a proud and fierce intonation.

"May your father, Lord Edwin Le-Faye, bring House Le-Faye both caliber and opulence beneath his capable rule." I bowed to Valerie, folding at my waist.

"...If I may speak quite plainly, Sir Theron?" Valerie murmured in an undertone.

I needed no further hint than those thinly veiled words.

"Thanatos." I breathed. My chosen spirit appeared above the bench that Valerie and I sat upon, and his grey soulfire dimmed the early evening sunlight, before completely overwhelming the presence of day with his unhallowed flame.

What sparse eyes watched Valerie and I, were now averted from the sterile glow of my hovering soulburner. What few onlookers had dared to linger upon the outskirts of my Distortion seep, now fled my silhouette's writhing reach.

"We are alone now, Valerie." I softly spoke. Valerie slowly lay her blind head against my shoulder. As though possessed, my arm rose to drape around Valerie protectively.

"...I missed you…" Valerie murmured.

The lump rose anew within my throat.

"...I feared I'd never see you again..." I struggled to whisper through my crumbling composure.

"I know that we don't have long, but… I've been wanting to speak with you privately for a painfully long time. Ever since my father inherited the lordship of House Le-Faye… I've been worried..." Valerie shuddered.

"What frightens you, my love? Has not the rule of your father passed down luxury and security to his heir?" I asked quietly. Valerie swallowed.

"This last year has afforded mine immediate kin a comfort previously unknown to our rank, but… I am not my father's heir." Valerie hesitantly confessed.

"You are his only child. Whom else would succeed-?"

"Theron… I… This body-" Valerie choked.

My lips pursed together in denial, even as the corners of my eyes watered.

"...I have lived twice as long as I should have, Theron. Longer. I should have died the day that Empousa-"

"Valerie!" I pleaded, begging my fiancée to deny her mortality.

"Theron… I will die soon. Very soon. If fate is kind, then I have a year or two before death claims me. I have already discussed such with my father. I am not fit to serve House Le-Faye as the family's heir. When succession names a new Lord for House Le-Faye, mine cousin Wendell shall inherit the family throne. I will not be present for the next succession of family Lords." Valerie overroad my desperate voice, and stated the heartless truth in a detached voice.

-Valerie had no fear of her death.

Valerie had faced that inescapable doom early in her youth, and she had been raised in awareness and preparation for such a cruel eventuality.

...But the guilt of grieving those who cherished Valerie after her passing still plagued my fiancée.

There was no assurance that Valerie could offer to her beloved or close of kin.

-Only a prayer.

"Theron… I also discussed our marriage with my father. If you still desire…" Valerie's breath faded, and a tearless weeping overcame my scarred love.

"...I promised you, against all ends. You promised me the same. My vow has never wavered, Valerie. You and I were married when we made that vow, regardless of the Crown's consent." I spoke firmly, yet compassion shook my intonation. Reaching past around my unarmored nape, I unfastened my dearest possession from its hideaway.

"We were children, Theron… I can't hold you to that promise. If a fairer life for you can be found in marriage to a healthier bride, then-" Valerie gasped.

I pressed a chain of worn wooden beads into my fiancée's fidgeting hands. Though they had once been colorful and haphazardly arranged, age had faded and chipped the timber orbs. My decoration was clumsily constructed, comprised of poor materials, and common trash at a glance. It was so obviously a child's design. But one elongated bead still held a carving long since etched into it by mine own hand.

"Aeterni Adversum Omnium Finibus, Ego Promisimus."

"...Eternal against all ends, I promised..."

The bead to the left of the central etching was carved with my name, and the corresponding bead to the right was inscribed with Valerie's.

Valerie's breath froze when her hands took hold of this crude artifact. This rude object.

-This shared vow of ours.

"...You kept it…" Valerie's touched voice could barely whisper.

This necklace was a gift.

A gift that Valerie had fashioned for me before the Parfum Royal Guard stole me away from her reach.

A gift that Valerie had bestowed upon me before I had been made into an Esquire. Before I had been knighted. Before I had sired a morbid legend.

Before Theron Halcyon had become "The Hole."

"...It has never left my person. I have never found a decorum fairer or more cherished. A child's promise we once made, but a child's vow I hold all the more revered. I spoke truly when I called you my beloved, Valerie… And I will never forget my beloved's reply." I swallowed as Exodus made his presence known in an unheeded chuckle from mine own shadow. I quickly deadened my heart against the eidolons' hunger, hiding that covetous emotion from mine spirits' appetites.

My breath shuddered as all four of my wraiths drew closer to Valerie and I; betraying their gluttony in their haunting advance.

"Sir Theron-?" Valerie's voice shook as I audibly fought to suppress both my fear and my love.

"I am fine, Lady Valerie. Exodus, Demeter, Thanatos, Pariah. Return to your confluences." I ordered in a steely tone.

All four spirits diminished when my guarded heart revealed no weakness or scrap for their cancerous indulgences.

"You are not fine, my love…" Valerie whispered, endangering my apathetic composure with her worried utterance.

"Four spirits, Theron… Why?" Valerie asked in a choked voice.

My throat tightened.

"It was my family's wish…" I answered in the strongest voice that I could muster.

"But why Exodus? Why the Eidolon of War? Why did your family force The White Shadow upon you?" Valerie shuddered.

"...It is my duty. The former Channeler of Exodus passed into the blackened lands, and I… I was selected to serve as Exodus's supplicant, so that The White Shadow would remain true to the Halcyon's service…" I closed my eyes against the bitter tears. Truthfully, my greatest asset to House Halcyon was not so much a public spectacle of our family's power, or even my example of our House's loyalty to the Crown…

...But rather, Sir Theron Halcyon also served his House in the most 'honored' of lowly ranks.

I was a Keeper. A Keeper of the Halcyon's greatest spirits. A living prison for the most horrific of unearthly devils.

And as a Keeper, Sir Theron was little more than the sustenance that bound the mightiest of wraiths to House Halcyon's cause for a generation longer.

Even though my status in the Crownguard and the Kalosian League afforded Sir Theron with a privilege unique amongst all former Keepers: the possession of Exodus's Mega-Stone and the Halcyon's only Keystone…

...The Halcyon's Central family had decided that Sir Theron's most prominent contribution to our Noble House was to serve in the the capacity of both Exodus and Demeter's Keeper. Though I had proven my spiritual preeminence to the core nobles by raising a new Halcyon Heirloom in the form of mine own Thanatos, the Central family did not consider such an asset a sufficient display of service from one of their lesser brood. If anything, the Halcyon Central family likely desired my early death, so as to pass on the three most treasured wraiths I kept unto House Halcyon's yet unborn heir.

It was all a matter of time. I had no doubt whatsoever that the birth of House Halcyon's next heir would correspond with mine untimely death.

I would be expected to serve as the sacrifice in such a child's first Channeling, and the service of mine greatest spirits would accompany the gift of my life to the heir of House Halcyon.

It was the primary reason for why Valerie lamented the fourth Ghost dutifully Channeled by Theron Halcyon.

Though House Halcyon's current Duchess had refused to foster an heir, her duty would eventually prove inescapable. But for now, it was not my preordained future that troubled me…

"...Do they still hurt you, Theron?" Valerie's saddened voice asked me, though she was well aware of the honest answer.

"...I do not wish to speak of it, Valerie." It was not the voice of Sir Theron that answered Valerie.

Faint.

Frightened.

Lost.

It was the voice of a wounded child that answered my betrothed, and I trembled as the conflicting emotions welled within my breast.

-I hated them

Every one of the four that I had been bound to.

Exodus.

Demeter.

Thanatos.

Pariah.

Each spirit tortured me. Each spirit fed from me. Each spirit haunted me.

Each spirit hungered for my death.

And yet…

...I pitied every one of the four that called me master.

Once, they had been as I was now.

Passionate. Living. Loving. Human.

And even though all of that wholesome emotion was now devoid in their beings, the awareness of what they had once possessed tormented them as surely as their existence tormented me. What the four had lost could never be reclaimed, and the absence of their humanity was eternally mourned by each and all.

No one yearns to become a Ghost. No one hopes to futilely scream forever in a cold and empty hell.

No one longs to be imprisoned away from all love and redemption.

No one wishes to become less than human, vexed with only enough morality to grieve and loathe the monster that they have become.

And it was my fate, to one day join the Ghosts in their cursed existence.

I was denied an afterlife where a reunion with my dying Valerie was even possible.

This wasting life was all I had for I and my Valerie.

Death would separate Theron Halcyon from his every hope and love, and neither would ever be cherished by his Ghost again.

Instead…

...The Ghost of Theron Halcyon would hunt for those who cherished love and hope, and that hateful and loathsome monster would feed from the living in a vain desire to experience life again.

It is the fate of every Halcyon. It is the doom of every Channeler.

For the sin of uniting the Distortion with our beings…

...Our souls are damned to suffer the blackened lands for all eternity.

"I am fine, Valerie. Do not fear for me. My spirit is far from broken." A strength I only knew in defiance hardened my cold voice.

...I am not a hound…

"My love…" Valerie's soft hand found my chin, and her gentle palm cupped my jaw.

"I am still the same Theron you knew as a child. I will always guard that secret me. For you, Valerie. I will always be Theron for you." I whispered to my future wife, and her soft intake of breath renewed my covetous passions.

All etiquette was forgotten. All restraint denied.

Valerie's veiled face rose to mine, and the shifting cloth offered her tender lips to mine.

One of her hands still cupped my jaw. Her other hand curved around my head.

And my arms wrapped around Valerie's back and waist, and I drew her bodily against my heraldry, as I met her begging lips with my own.

This was not our first kiss.

-Far from it.

But every kiss before had been a child's teasing exchange, or a silent goodbye.

This was something more.

This was a physical reaffirmation of our vow.

It was a new line, unwritten in our promise, yet inscribed into our very hearts, and known in the comfort of one another's touch.

This was a kiss shared by lovers.

A kiss that we had only dreamed of in distant green summers that had long since greyed.

A kiss that we knew to be forbidden.

There was no apology as we fell away, no shame to burn our cheeks, nor fear to weigh our hearts.

For one perfect moment, Valerie and I had experienced a taste of our most celebrated dream.

"Sir Theron, what time do we have left?" Valerie asked me as Thanatos's light faded.

"Time enough to present ourselves to Princess Diantha in a punctual manner. If you would be so kind, Lady Valerie, It would greatly honor this lowly Knight if he were permitted to accompany the Lady of Le-Faye on her return to Parfum's Grand Solar." I rose from the bench, and offered my betrothed a genteel arm.

"Of course, Knight of the Crownguard. The Lady of Le-Faye could not possibly find more pleasing dining company than that of the valiant Sir Theron." Valerie's Courtier upbringing dictated her mannerisms, just as my Court training had dictated my own.

Once more did Valerie join with my mailed elbow, and once more did the pair of us march side by side, entwined arm in arm. Dignified and aloof for all of Kalos to see.

…

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The Saga of Kings, Book II: Prophet

Written by,

Vile M.F. Slanders

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"...Maiestatis crimen illud est quod adversus populum Romanum vel adversus securitatem eius committitur... (...The crime of majestas is that which is committed against the Roman people or against their safety…)" -Lex Maiestatis: the Roman definition of treason under Tiberius. Punishable by civil disability and public torture, followed by dishonorable death by decapitation and culturally enforced infamy.

-v-

Chapter II: The Fate of Traitors

"Good evening to you, young sir!"

"..."

"...Are you Theron Halcyon?"

"...I- I am."

"I'm Valerie Lefaye of Noble House Le-Faye. It's an honor to make your acquaintance."

"...Um…Uh-"

"Are you unwell, young sir?"

"I… I don't know what's going on…"

"Oh. Did nobody tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Oh my. Well, I'm Valerie, your wife to be. You and I were promised to one another shortly after our birth."

"-M-my… my wife?"

"...I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable-"

"No, it's not that! It's just that… I have a wife?"

"No, not yet, silly! Oh, excuse me- Not as of yet, young sir. We must be formally married before we are pronounced husband and wife. You are my fiancé."

"What is a fiancé?"

"Um… I ah, I… I don't know?"

"Then how do you know that I'm your fiancé?"

"Because my uncle- Because Lord Albert Le-Faye of Noble House Le-Faye told me so."

"Oh."

"...I'm… I don't know what to say now…"

"I'm sorry, I've never met a child from another Noble House. Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Theron Halcyon, of Noble House Halcyon."

"..."

"..."

"This is… uncomfortable…"

"...I feel the same way."

"Do they… Do they teach you Court Etiquette in House Halcyon?"

"Is that an interrogation technique?"

"...A- A what?"

"Is that a discipline of torture?"

"NO! Why would you think that?!"

"...What do they teach you in House Le-Faye, Lady Valerie?"

"The Do's and Don'ts of Courtiership. Such as poise, presentation, proper attire, oratory, penmanship, dining etiquette… You know, the nobility's normal criteria."

"That's normal?"

"Of course! Don't they teach you the same here?"

"...They teach me psychology, kinesics, human anatomy, inquisition techniques, covert tactics, and swordsmanship."

"Swordsmanship?! So you're a Knight then!"

"-No! Not yet! I'm just a squire!"

"...But you will be a Knight, won't you?"

"Of -of course. I just need to grow up first."

"Married to a Knight... I've always wanted to be married to a valiant Knight!"

"...V-valiant…?"

"Of course! Knights are always valiant!"

"...How are Knights valiant?"

"I'll show you! Here, you be the Knight, and I'll be the beautiful Lady Courtier! Oh! Do you have a dragon on hand?"

"...I have Pariah-?"

"No, no! You need your sword to slay the dragon! Here! Empousa, you play the role of dragon! Let Sir Theron slay you with his sword!"

"Slay? But-?"

"It's what Knights do! You're protecting the beautiful Lady-Courtier Valerie from Empousa, the dragoness! Show Sir Theron your teeth, Empousa! Now growl like a dragon!"

"Sir Theron, stand between me and Empousa! Protect your Lady-Courtier!"

"Ready yourself for battle, Pariah."

"-?"

"...What?"

"You sounded like a Knight just now!"

"D-did I?"

"It was perfect! Do it again!"

"...Umm… Pariah-? Ready yourself f-for b-battle?"

"No! Not like that! Like how you did before! Remember, you're facing a dragon! They can smell fear! Be cold as steel! Be brave like a Knight!"

"..."

"..."

"...Away with you, Empousa. Forfeit this field, or die by my hand."

"That's… absolutely perfect… though a bit… scary…?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to frighten you-!"

"It's quite alright, Sir Theron… I just…"

"...I'm sorry, Lady Valerie…"

"...?"

"...I'm not trying to frighten you."

"...It's just so cold... I can't stop shaking…"

"Pariah, please… make it stop. Please make it stop…"

"...I can't breathe-"

"Make it go away, Pariah! You can hurt me later! Just don't hurt her!"

"...What's going on-?"

"Pariah! I order you to desist! Get rid of your seep! Do it now! I command you!"

"..."

"It's okay, Valerie! It's okay! I'll protect you from the Ghosts! I promise! I'll protect you!"

"..."

"...Valerie-? Wake up! Please wake up!"

"..."

"...Please… please forgive me…"

"..."

…

I returned to my quarters, and prepared myself for my evening vigil.

Thanatos filled my chambers with grey light and a wretched hiss, while Exodus sank into the darkness, riding the currents of Thanatos's shadows to every corner and niche of Parfum.

I accompanied them on their mission, and listened as every whisper of the palace played out in the Distortion.

"Eight o'clock at night, and all is well-"

"Don't forget the leavening! We need that starter fermenting as soon as possible-!"

"...Where's that bloody relief? I swear I'm going to catch a cold on this tower-"

"Goodnight, Samantha. And before you nod off, say it with me one more time. Poise, presentation, proper attire, oratory, penmanship-"

"...Goddamned Aurorus is fogging up the courtyard. No wonder it's so fucking cold-"

"-A word with you, Allan."

My focus was interrupted by Princess Diantha's voice. Lingering on the scene as it unfolded, I watched as Princess Diantha, accompanied by her Victoria, encroached upon King Alan's study with a severe disposition.

"What is it now, Diantha?" King Allan tossed aside his pen, and looked up at his elder sister, who still stood haughty at the study's doorway.

"May I request some privacy with my brother? Or is he afraid that I might have poison sequestered somewhere on my person?" Princess Diantha asked the otherwise empty room.

"My liege?" The invisible Sir Wikstrom asked of our sovereign.

"It is permissible. You are dismissed, Lord Wikstrom." King Allan waved the Knight-Commander away with a flick of his wrist, and Lord Wikstrom made to obey his King's decree. My superior's servants were still shielding him from my wraiths, but I could feel Princess Diantha's reproach when she met his unseen eyes.

My Princess was clearly unhappy with her Iron Lord, and Victoria seemed to share her Regent's sentiments.

"That means you too, Victoria. Please see Lord Wikstrom to the outer solar. He's already heard enough of our dispute." Princess Diantha gently commanded of her white witch, and Victoria curtseyed to her Regent with a modest tilt of her head.

I took that as my cue, and eased my focus from this scene.

Victoria, however, intervened before I could return to my vigil.

Of course she knew that I was watching them. It was my duty after all. But the Valkyrie of Kalos called out to me with a playful suggestion; more of a subliminal expression than a language; more of a subconscious desire than a thought imparted with words.

Stay. The fay babaylan psionically commanded of me.

And so I stayed with my Princess, while a pleased Victoria entwined her arm around Lord Wikstrom's own, and allowed herself to be guided away from King Allan's study.

"...Still we wonder when that thing will turn on you, dear sister." King Allan grumbled, unnerved by Victoria's regal mannerisms.

"It's a possibility, though if I'm to be perfectly frank, brother? The possibility of Victoria turning on me is so unlikely, that even speaking of it invokes my derision." Princess Diantha rose to her Valkyrie's defense, shaking her head at King Allan's concern.

"...Yet still we dread that one day, we'll hear Victoria's words leaving your mouth." King Allan pressed on, his words offered to wound, but they were supported by a personal fear.

"Oh for heaven's sake, Allan. It's not like you'd listen to Victoria anymore than you'd listen to me." Princess Diantha grumbled.

"We're being serious, Diantha." King Allan's fear was lessened by his sister's rebuttal, though his concern for her was still apparent to my eyes.

"You underestimate Victoria's intelligence and ambition. She knows what would become of her, if I were no longer in the picture. I don't believe for a moment that Victoria would risk losing everything she's been given for such a fruitless betrayal." Princess Diantha brushed off her brother's worry, but she was touched by it all the same.

"So what did you wish to discuss with us, Diantha?" King Allan pushed his chair from its niche at his desk, and pried his expansive girth from his study's throne.

"I wanted to discuss Sir Theron of Noble House Halcyon."

The whispers recoiled as though I'd lashed out at them. Mastering myself against the shock, I regathered my focus and welcomed the whispers to me once more.

"...This again, Diantha?" King Allan stated in a weary voice.

"Come now, Allan. Give the poor boy a chance to enjoy his life, before it's too late-"

"Too late? Please, Diantha… Remember who you're speaking of. He was born a Halcyon. He was raised in that misery. It's all he knows, it's all he'll ever know-"

"You're wrong." Princess Diantha cut her brother off with an angry hiss.

"You don't know him, Diantha. We do. We've stood witness to Sir Theron's proficiency at interrogations, while you played your games in the League. If you had seen Sir Theron's mediations in the Black Hall, you wouldn't be so quick to advocate for his goodwill." King Allan spoke in a tone of finality, believing these words to be his closing argument, yet Princess Diantha had prepared a rebuttal of her own.

"And when was the last time that you hosted a dinner for Sir Theron and his betrothed? Have you even spoken with him as he dined?" Princess Diantha countered. King Allan froze in shock.

"Betrothed? Sir Theron-?"

"Don't tell me that you forgot all about the poor girl you mortified at my soiree?" Princess Diantha spat.

"...The delegate from Johto-?"

"That was Lady Valerie Le-Faye of Noble House Le-Faye! The daughter of Lord Edwin Le-Faye?" Princess Diantha shook her head in exasperation.

"That child is still alive-?"

"Oh for God's sake Allan! Why did father ever let you out in public?!" Princess Diantha was positively humiliated, an expression that quickly invoked her brother's indignity.

"There are hundreds of Noble children, Diantha! Thousands! How are we to know which child is-"

"Because Lord Edwin introduced you to Valerie at his coronation! Don't you remember?!"

King Allan went silent as he called to mind the aforementioned event. Sifting through the memoirs, King Allan located a colorful curtsey and a raven haired girl; but he could not conjure up the recollection of her name.

"We remember it now. That was years ago." King Allan dismissed the memory the moment he'd reclaimed it.

"Years, Allan? Or only months?" Princess Diantha sighed in frustration.

"Why are we supposed to remember every bleeding daughter that our Lords introduce to us?!" King Allan roared at his sister's expression of disappointment.

"...Because you're a King, Allan. And your Lords expect you to remember their daughters' names." Princess Diantha replied in a cold voice.

"...The girl that was dismembered. Yes, yes; we remember that little nightmare from all those years ago. A shining example as to why the fay should never be trusted." King Allan was nothing short of brusque in his retort, and Princess Diantha's brow furrowed with anger.

"Lady Valerie has lived a hard life. She can barely walk without assistance, much less see. Yet she's made the most of what she has, and has risen to a proud station within the League." Princess Diantha murmured at first, but her voice gained in fierceness as she spoke her praise of Valerie.

"She still keeps the doll that nearly killed her close at hand, does she not?" King Allan's voice grew snide with an accusation.

"That's her choice, Allan. It's nothing to incriminate her for." Princess Diantha was infuriated at having to defend a cripple from her brother's prejudice.

"Were we Lord Edwin, we would've disemboweled that little Mawile-"

"He wasn't a Lord back then, Allan. His brother was. And Lord Albert insisted on keeping Valerie and Empousa together." Princess Diantha interjected.

"Long live the Lord of Le-Faye. Good riddance. That lunatic Albert was a nettling thorn in our side. At least Lord Edwin appears to be able to discern the difference between a rubbish bag and a hat." King Allan grumbled.

"As well as arranging for Valerie and Empousa's continued union during his tenure as Lord of Le-Faye, Lord Albert also arranged her marriage to Theron Halcyon." Princess Diantha ignored her brother's latest insult, and attempted to steer the discussion back onto its intended heading.

"...Why did Lord Albert Le-Faye detest his niece so?"

My King's attempt at a joke would've raised choirs of laughter in nearly any other hall of Parfum, but Princess Diantha did not appreciated her brother's jab against Valerie or myself.

"...And just as she chose to respect her union with Empousa, Lady Valerie Le-Faye has also chosen to honor her marriage to Sir Theron of House Halcyon." It was not only the lack of laughter that informed King Allan of a crossed line.

Princess Diantha's tone could barely conceal her smoldering wrath.

"And why is this a concern for your King?" King Allan asked with an authoritative air.

"...Because my King refuses to grant Sir Theron any leave from duty."

"And we've come right back to where we started from, and where we left off last time." King Allan grumbled.

"Allan, be reasonable-"

"We are being reasonable, Diantha. Sir Theron is a valuable asset to our defense. Were we to release him from duty while the threat of a bloody revolution looms over-"

"The Crownguard have been more than an adequate defense for the Throne! Sir Theron is a convenience for them, not a crutch!"

"Sir Mayhorn served his King just as nobly as any Knight in our Palace. Yet without Sir Theron's 'convenience,' Sir Mayhorn's role in an assassination attempt may have succeeded in realizing the death of your King." King Allan silenced his sister's protest with those words, but despite her concession to this particular verity, Princess Diantha refused to yield the battle.

"Brother, I fear for you. But I also fear for your reliance on Sir Theron. The rest of your Crownguard has grown lax in their duties; Lord Wikstrom himself is growing fat from the labors of Sir Theron-"

"Lord Wikstrom is approaching the midpoint of his sixth decade, Diantha. Not everyone ages as gracefully as you do." King Allan punctuated his observation by slapping the bulge beneath his breasts. It was self-depreciative, but he was in the company of his dear sister; who had trivialized the subject of her brother's weight in favor of criticizing his policies.

"...And Sir Theron will be incredibly lucky to see his sixth decade. Four channels, Allan. He won't live half as long as you will. So who will you turn to when your invaluable Sir Theron has passed on?" Princess Diantha's voice was rife with emotion. King Allan sighed, but was silent otherwise.

Then-

"Why do you want Sir Theron in your League so badly, Diantha?"

The silence resumed as Princess Diantha considered how best to phrase her reply.

"...Have you seen him in battle? Have you seen what he's capable of in an arena?"

King Allan snorted.

"We've seen the League recordings of Sir Theron's nightmares. They're practically as terrifying as his interrogation methodology."

"They're genius, Allan. Absolutely genius. And the whole of Kalos knows it. Even you."

"We're not denying that the boy is proficient. He'd never have discovered the capabilities of a Litwick in court if he were of the Halcyon's common stock. But his proficiency is best utilized here in Parfum, at his King's defense."

"You're missing the point! Sir Theron could easily earn a seat within the Elite Four! He could even surpass Lord Wikstrom if you'd just give him the chance! Think of it! Think of your preeminence! The Iron Lord, and The Terror of Halcyon, both members of the Elite Four; both sworn to the service of the Crownguard? Two of Kalos's mightiest and most noble of warriors united in the defense of their King?"

King Allan began to laugh.

"You give the League's influence far too much credit, Diantha." King Allan jeered.

"Too much credit-? TOO MUCH CREDIT?!"

My Princess was beside herself in furious disbelief.

"Lower your voice-"

"THE HELL WITH YOU, ALLAN! THE LEAGUE IS WHAT HAS KEPT OUR FAMILY ON THE THRONE-" Princess Diantha cut herself off with a sharp breath, before continuing to berate King Allan in a far lower tone.

"-If the people of Kalos hadn't favored their sportsmen more than they favored a myth, our family would have lost the throne three centuries ago! And you have the gall to act as though the Crown of Kalos is entitled to you!?" Princess Diantha hissed.

"It was a foolish practice, and the people of Kalos knew it! Allowing a Ghost to sanction the coronation of a King? It was madness! Our family's League had nothing to do with people's rejection of that barbaric and archaic practice!" King Allan spat.

"If I recall my history lessons, exiling the Aegislash from our coronation ceremonies almost resulted in a civil war. Do you remember that lesson, Allan? Or did you sleep through that lecture as well?"

King Allan fumed in silence, while his sister awaited his concession. But the King would not be swayed by this argument. I divined such before even Princess Diantha could.

"Times have changed, Diantha. The people's concerns have changed with them. Your League isn't as powerful as it once was-"

"Then tell me how well your proposed legislation would have passed in the Royal Court, if it were not for me and my reputation advocating on your behalf?"

Once again, the study was silenced by King Allan's doubt.

"...Just let him compete, Allan. Let him be married, before he and his fiancée are forever separated. Let him enjoy his life while he still can."

Princess Diantha was begging on my behalf, separating my focus from the whispers as distractible emotions wracked my heart.

"...I'll trade you. My Lord Wikstrom for your Sir Theron?" A plea, voiced with a secret playfulness recapitulated Princess Diantha's request.

"...Don't be silly, Diantha. Your King owns them both." King Allan chuckled, and I could feel my Princess's despair.

"...Whatever happened to the fat little boy who used to pretend that he was King? Remember, Allan? The ruckus you raised in the gardens, while I tended my Vivillions?" Princess Diantha's voice rarely sounded so wounded.

"We remember how you used to have your Vivillions poison that fat boy, whenever the ruckus he raised disturbed you." King Allan grudgingly remarked. Princess Diantha laughed; a short, musical, sad laugh.

"It was a sedative, not a poison. Though father did just about kill me when he found out…" I could not tell if my Princess still laughed or if she now wept. She'd lost all dictation of her emotions, and her fond nostalgia was now mingling with a retrospective remorse.

"...We cannot permit for Sir Theron's absence from Parfum, Diantha. We are sorry."

And at those soft words, my Princess took her leave of King Allan's study. Furious at her younger brother, and angry at herself for her defeat.

... .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

... .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

He sat rooted to his chair, stiff backed and unmoving. Frozen in time as the world around him continued to move in a cascade of muted colors and distant sounds.

The invitation was my bait; Exodus was my snare.

And now monsieur Malcolm was beholden as my unwilling host.

"I'm so glad to make this acquaintance, monsieur Malcolm. Pardon my unexpected arrival; I do hope to find you well?" I graciously took my seat in the chair opposed to his, as the depth of my penumbra swallowed his desensitized world.

"Always wondered when you slimy gits would finally catch up with me." Monsieur Malcolm greeted me with a snide grimace.

"S'il vous plaît, monsieur! There's no need for flattery. We've always known exactly where you were." My pleasant smile blossomed into a demeaning grin; a gloat worn to demoralize my prey for his ignorance.

"That's a load bollocks. If you damned Halcyons have always known; then why has it taken you this long to get your chilly mitts on me?" Monsieur Malcolm spat.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est-? Dear me, monsieur… Whatever gave you the impression that we were out to capture you?" I feigned shock with a wicked glint in my eyes. Monsieur Malcolm jerked against Exodus's loosened bonds, his dogged eyes warily meeting mine.

"...What are you getting at, Halcyon?" A grim voice asked me, giving my shoulders reason to shake with a silent chuckle.

"Oh, do forgive me. I simply love this part. It's always such a pleasure to see the looks on their faces when we confirm what they always suspected..." My cruel grin returned in full, despite the bashful shake of my head.

"Allow me to explain. We've always known where you were and what you were doing, monsieur… because you were always doing exactly what we wanted you to do." I let the damning portents of that line sink in, before I continued my explication.

"It's common knowledge that the Halcyons have their shadows in every nook and cranny; a shade at every keyhole and a spectre at every eave. Is it so hard to believe, monsieur, that your entire illicit career has served the interests of House Halcyon? That you have been one of our shades from the very beginning?" I settled into my chair, and motioned to the staff for a drink. Waiting for my beverage to be delivered, I examined the tabletop with idle interest; permitting my host the time he required to contemplate the implications of my rhetoric.

"...Let's pretend for a moment that I believe you." Monsieur Malcolm warily began, after our serveuse had scurried away from the seep of a Halcyon.

"...Why the hell would you let me run my business, if it's been a threat to your oligarchy from the beginning?" Monsieur Malcolm growled.

"Your business is our business, monsieur Malcolm. True, some of our agencies have suffered for your continued practices, but overall: your customs have been an appreciable asset to our cause. House Halcyon only disposes of the underworld's less productive ventures to moderate the competition. I don't mean to boast, but we have a knack for identifying and consolidating the most lucrative of our iniquitous investments." I could not have been any more relaxed revealing these dark secrets. There were few other details that I enjoyed more than the duty of herald to the Marché Noir.

How I loved delivering the message that turned these degenerates' world upside down.

"All this time, you thought yourself a free agent; a sovereign of your own fate. But in reality, you have always been a marionette; a servant of your lords. You never noticed the strings we fettered to your limbs, the strings we held from high above you. At least, not until the time came for you to dance and frolic upon our stage..." I paused for effect, and let my eyes go slack with hollow sight. The narrow smile upon my lips gradually lessened in its playful expression, until my visage bore the numb smirk of the dead.

"...And your time to shine upon that stage is now, monsieur Malcolm."

Such wicked pleasure filled my chest with a warming illness, as the swindler opposed to me quaked afore he crumbled; frightened tears alighting at the corners of his eyes.

"It's always been said that House Halcyon owns the underworld. Certainly this revelation should not come as such a surprise?"

Not even Exodus could have mocked as I, as a once proud thief caved into humble despair.

"...Be damned already, you soulless snake…" So wept my host, in his bitterness and fear.

"Spare me. The time for illusions has passed. Embrace the chains that bind you, or sacrifice all dignity and weep in your frailty like a babe. No one ever said the truth was kind." I sneered at his weakness, cold as I was to the harshness of a lesson I'd learned at birth.

"...Then make me dance, and be done with it, you black hearted devil! I'll not be toyed with by the likes of you!" Some residual defiance, some measure of an unbroken spirit surfaced in my host, and I eagerly crushed it with only my chilling silence and a patronizing smile.

"...It's so refreshing to see another damned soul being joined with ours in brotherhood. Welcome to the real world, monsieur Malcolm. Do make yourself at home." I lingered over monsieur Malcolm's agony, driven as I was by a thirst for reprieve.

...So strange it seemed to me then, to find solace in the suffering of another. So strange was it to feel my old wounds heal whilst monsieur Malcolm's new wounds bled...

"We have brought you out of the shadows, monsieur Malcolm, because we have need of an intimate service of yours." I forfeited my sadistic air, and assumed a business man's address.

"And what service would that be?" Monsieur Malcolm spat.

"We know that you have contacts within a very… shall we say, xenophobic tribe of Hoenn?" I simpered, as that mischievous glint returned to lighten my eyes.

"...Just what do you want from the bloody Draconids?"

I reached into the confines of my disguise, and drew an old, tattered leaf of parchment from the confines of my coat. Smoothing out the softened parchment with a ginger palm, I revealed a faint symbol inked in a rainbow of faded dyes.

A serpentine double-helix, conjoined at either end in points, and encased within a crystalline sphere.

A symbol of an old faith. A symbol of phenomenon. A symbol of untold and exclusive power.

"When you establish contact with the tribe, give them this as a sign of our intentions. Do mention that we are willing to exchange such, provided that they are willing to meet us with equity." I slid the ancient slip of parchment across the table to monsieur Malcolm; who received my message with a stunned air.

"...Does the Crown have a part in this exchange?" Monsieur Malcolm asked of me with a suspicious tone.

"This matter will be handled by your person directly. No other individuals or agencies are to have a knowing hand in this arrangement. You will be compensated for any expenses your errand requires; and upon completion of your mission, House Halcyon will erase all records of your criminal past. Consider it a premium; your second chance at a free life, monsieur Malcolm." I abstained from answering my host's question with a facsimile of authority. I would not be questioned by a puppet, and the severe look within my eyes made such known to the now deathly silent marketeer.

"...This is the single most weighty of customs that you have ever laundered. Never ponder or disseminate the significance that you have been entrusted with. This will be the first noble act of your new life, monsieur Malcolm; should you adhere to these statutes."

A miniscule island of a man sat before me; barren, save for a palpable dread that he could not yet explain.

An unfamiliar empathy extended from me to him, as I realized the parallel sentiment we both shared in doubt.

"...It will be done."

So came the dutiful compliance of a puppet.

"Excellent. Exodus, accompany monsieur Malcolm on his errand. Ensure the security of his delivery." I rose from my chair, and made ready to leave, but a new protest from my host brought my escape to a cease.

"Now wait just a cocking minute! I'll not suffer any bloody hauntings on this errand!" Monsieur Malcolm nearly shouted.

My dead stare silenced all protest, as the world shuddered before my rapt Ghosts.

There was no patience left within me to tolerate this treason for a moment longer. Half of me desired absolvement in monsieur Malcolm's death; the other half knew that it was too late to dream of absolution.

"You have a duty to perform, monsieur Malcolm. Now see that your duty is done with dignity." So easily did Lord Wikstrom's words come callously from my mouth; so readily did his authority reinforce my bearing.

Untroubled, I took my leave of the pub; bearing one Ghost less than the quartet I'd entered with. All of my hopes, and indeed, my very wellbeing entrusted to a criminal.

Oh, how desperation and solitude had made me a fool.

…

My humble possessions had been discretely packed; my escape route sufficiently prepared. Every mean required to see me secretly to Hoenn had been considered; from concealing my Distortion seep, to concealing my appearance. Subversion was my ally. Solitude, my constant companion. But one matter had yet to have been resolved.

Whom would play charades as Sir Theron in Kalos, while Sir Theron played charades as a traitor? For this conundrum I too had formulated a contingency; but the elected solution had yet to have been adequately trialled.

"Demeter, I summon thee." I whispered to my empty solar, and the creaking of an aging forest filled the chambers with a dreadful dissonance.

I did not look upon Demeter in her distorted nakedness, but averted my eyes as she garbed herself in a new guise.

When the eerie sounds of her garden had faded away at last, I slowly turned about to face my dear wraith.

And there she stood, a three dimensional reflection; greeting me with my own smile.

My breath caught within my throat, as I was overcome by some unforeseen personal profanity.

So that's how others see me…

I looked into a mirror that looked right back at me.

My Demeter. My body double.

My Me.

Why I was so struck by the image of myself eluded me. I'd rarely known such terror as this, but to see myself standing there, so indistinguishable from the true me…

...I was made but a child, and the answer to an unconsidered question now frightened my very soul.

"...You know your role, Demeter. Do not fail me." I could barely speak past the swallowing of my tongue.

The illusions weaved by the Ghosts are well known; but the spiritual creation of a human analogue, this homunculus of my innovation and Demeter's botanical capabilities…

...To my knowledge, this had never been done before.

My doppleganger continued to smile at me, further unnerving me with its farcical expression.

I had originally feared that my design would be faulty; that the homunculus would bear some obvious defect, but to my eyes, Demeter emulated my physical being perfectly.

...Providing me with all the more reason to question exactly what I was.

It was only after she had crossed the distance between us that I realized how close I stood to myself.

Our faces were but scant centimeters away; close enough that I could feel another Theron's breath upon my mouth. Theron's smiling eyes, knowing and loathsome, held my gaze captive in horror.

Every line and blemish, every hair and vein, every pore and contour starkly echoing a faint awareness of my own...

...And then her arms fell around me, and in paralysis, I fell into her embrace…

Before my Demeter kissed me with my own lips, and tenderly held me against myself, as I gagged with revulsion and horror.

Panic freed me from the stupor, and I broke her hold upon me, casting her bodily away from myself.

I was me. She was my clone. I was the master. She was my slave.

"Do not touch me." I hissed to my grinning alterself, and Demeter mocked me with my own wretched laugh.

"...I have afforded you with more liberty than you've ever known in the service of House Halcyon, and this is how you repay me, Demeter?" I could not hide the damning hurt within my voice; yet it inflicted my doppleganger with a curious expression of remorse.

Demeter shrank before my wounded tone, growing smaller and slight of stature. Sculpted curves rose from where musculature had one chiseled angles, as symmetrical depressions altered the homunculus's athletic physique into an hourglass figure.

A cascade of straight raven hair poured from its scalp, as the gaunt hollows and sharp edges of my doppelganger's face filled out, softened, and smoothed; while femininity graced its most noticeable of distinctions to a familiar figure.

I was rendered speechless by this spectacle; unable to think through the warming cloud rising in my mind.

Valerie stood before me; naked and immaculate. Her natural eyes glistening with a sacred desire; her soft lips parting with shortened breaths.

...An intoxicating aroma wafting from her thighs…

My back was forced to the floor as a famished nymph bore down upon me; lips eager to seize mine; pelvis driving into my hips; arms and loins ensnaring me within her carnal prison…

And then Demeter released all of me but my midriff, to which she claimed as a part of herself. Assuming an intimate roost above my person, Demeter tore at my clothing with her fingers and teeth. My garments were reduced to tatters as a lustful revenant purged me of my dignity, and sought to strip me bare to the soul…

It was only when Demeter gasped upon taking me that I realized what had happened.

Disgust and terror drove me to defy my slave; Demeter now lay beneath me; my hands wrapped around her neck; the anger in my eyes feeding the laughter that welled from her strangled throat.

"...You. Are. Mine." I hissed to my cackling wraith.

Lusting eyes told of only willing subservience to my decree, and Demeter tried once more to take me as her own.

I wrestled her thighs free of my hips, and pulled myself from her warmest region. A gasp, half of pleasure and half of disappointment, sounded from my cruelest wraith; but I revealed only my wrath as I denied her subtle advance yet again.

...It had felt so real, that sensation I thought I'd never know…

But I would only share that sensation with my Valerie; never with her cheap doppelganger.

An amused wraith lay upon her side as I dressed myself; a fake Valerie assuming a relaxed posture and a seductive expression.

"...You are to play the role of Theron, Demeter. Not the role of a whore." I hissed, ignoring the human look of accusation that my wraith cast me.

But the naked Valerie disappeared in an instant, as the doppelganger of Theron Halcyon rose to take her place.

"Of course, Theron. It was presumptuous of me to act on that little impulse. But I'd never have been able to manage it… if some part of you didn't also desire it."

My own voice mocked me with a pretentious apology, spoken in a sly enunciation. I glared at Demeter for her boldness, but then the reason for her abrasive mannerisms struck me.

Demeter wasn't just emulating my appearance flawlessly; she'd replicated my personality to the letter as well.

And as the truism in her prior statement had attested...

...My wraith would never have gotten that far with me, if some unscrupulous subconscious desire of my own had not permitted for it.

Now I was made to feel like traitor to my heart; not merely to my vows of fealty.

My sadistic interrogator. My foul and wretched inquisitor.

My Garden of Agony.

My clever Demeter knew exactly how best to torture me.

…

If causality arbitrated its cruelest verdict to both the malefic and the munificent…

...Then I could afford to be no less impartial in my judgement.

For as my cursed sight had revealed, if I could not bring myself to slay this one innocent in the most stoic of adjudications…

...Then my leniency would damn the whole of humanity.

My eyes never told of the struggle behind them when I abandoned the Cardinal to her fate. I maintained my gaze with her terror stricken eyes as Typhon claimed his uncontested prize. Her screams were brief to my mundane ears, but I watched her infinite deaths play out beyond the shadows of our world. I spectated her incomprehensible ruin within the bleakest of tangible hells. I stood witness, as the death of an innocent gave birth to the most insidious of monstrosities.

Like a loathsome phoenix, the Cardinal had endured the falling of her ashes…

...But what rose from those forlorn salts was neither human in its grotesque appearance or within its abhorrent nature. All that remained of the precursor that had spawned it was a lamentation for its irreversible mutilation, and a bitter contempt for any naive to the cruelties of the blackened lands.

By my hand, had this pitiful soul been unjustly damned to suffer such devilry for all eternity.

...And my own soul recoiled when I realized the parallel that her fate had pioneered for mine.

...Yet unlike her, I was no longer counted amongst the innocent.

...For like her, I bore no traces of my former humanity…

...And I knew, beyond any past hope for reprieve, that I was damned to be a Devil in this life and the next.

I had finally accepted the sin of humanity's salvation. I had finally submitted myself to our species' desideratum. For just as I had been born into unwilling service, so was I to live and die in such conscripted duty.

My fleeting compassion had dictated its own demise.

Freedom had always been a dream. Freedom was only ever a delusion. Freedom was only ever a pursuit without yield, and here, truth had finally made this predator freedom's prey.

...And with that dreadful revelation…

...In that one, terrible moment…

...The loving, flawed, dreaming, human Theron Halcyon…

...The same man that I had endeavored against every former tribulation to preserve…

...That same weak, pathetic, and solicitous creature...

...Died alongside the first of his innocent victims.

…

The shadows whirled around me in a murky haze, as a facsimile of breath filled my lungs with a fetid reserve. An aching cold, deeper than the flesh could discern and transcribe, pierced me to the marrow of my bones.

All that my eyes could see was hell. All that my ears could hear was the muffled cries of those who'd been swallowed before me.

There was no solace to be found in the Distortion. There was no succor that my eyes could see. There was only unending despair, as the damned rejoiced in their mutilation, and abhorred themselves for such hideous revelry.

I willed Typhon to shutter this expanse of nightmares from our eyes, and my eidolon domicile silenced perdition with a swell of opaque miasma.

All that I had ever loved, all that I had ever cherished…

All that I had ever been, or hoped to have been…

...It had all been stricken from me.

Alone in the dark, I sank deeper into this abyssal realm, numb as I was to all that I was.

But I was not alone for very long.

My dearly beloved knights, my profound and ailing servants, my loyal and treacherous friends…

...Surrounded me in their embraces, to celebrate my suffering.

I knew what they knew, well before my appointed time.

I was what they had been. I had become what they were now.

Just a Ghost wrapped in flesh, a fleeting life awaiting its total dehumanization.

My family waited for me to join them as one; one body; one spirit; one desire…

My dearly beloved wraiths…

...Take my pity and flay me with it. Despite all the gentle intentions of our former selves…

...This is where we have all come to be damned.

One of my companions, one of my tormentors, shepherded me from the ghastly fold; cradled my still corpse in her withered limbs. Within her creaking arms was I stripped bare. Within her splintered maw, was my essence received.

She took me, as a woman doth take a lover; yet it was not the tender embrace of a doppelganger that subjected me to her selfish want of pleasure...

It was the lusting embrace of a revenant, that sought a reprieve from hell in my rape.

But any measure of sadistic fulfillment was denied to her, for I had aught but pity to offer.

I could not stop her, for I did not care. I would not free myself, because I could never be myself.

This flesh is only temporary. This spirit is forever. And in such masochistic apathy, was I damned to suffer eternally.

I had never been so helpless. My chains had never been so patent. Yet so long as this failing body still pulsed with life...

...It would exude a will that had never been so immutable.

...

"I understand your concerns, Justicar Oscarin, but I assure you that you have nothing to fear." A pleasant smile a fixed itself to my face, as the elderly statesman brooded.

"This is a highly controversial case, Lord Halcyon. There is far more at stake than just the integrity of my nation." The High Justicar frowned at me; consigning his verdict prematurely.

"I do not come to Kanto with any intention of threatening your nation's security. I come here solely to escape the controversy of my homeland." I found a sufficiently emotional inflection with which to tug heartstrings, yet my sincerity failed all personal consideration before the deception had even left my person.

"Would you explain to me why you seek asylum? I'm afraid I don't understand the reasoning behind your sudden political polarization. You raised the controversy in Kalos, Lord Halcyon. I'd like to know why you seek to escape it." The High Justicar's voice had elevated in severity, and in the shadow his figure cast, I saw the strings that pulled at his person.

Another puppet of ACE. How fortunate for me.

I sighed before my reply, and leaned towards the Justicar's desk.

"...Kalos stands upon the brink of war, monsieur Oscarin. A war that has long effervesced in the shadows of my home. A war that threatens to destroy the nation I love." I shook my head in weary despair, acting out the emotion for empathy's sake.

"...I may not have incited this war, but I certainly played a part in bringing the revolution to the surface. I advocated a different path for my nation, and those dissatisfied and disenfranchised countryman of mine flocked to my noble House's standards."

A monocled set of heavy eyes measured my person, but so convincing was my act, that even a magistrate as seasoned as Adamus Oscarin failed to detect the obfuscations.

"...Do I regret becoming the face of the Kalosian revolution? Of course not. I stand by my original decision to represent Kalos's downtrodden; to speak in the Royal Court for their behalf; to legislate fairly over my countrymen, regardless of caste; but my sudden ascent to power generated an influx of complications within my nation. A series of complications that not only threaten the stability of the current regime, but also endangers the continuity of our next regime…" I fell back into the cushions of my chair with a shuddering sigh of grief.

"...Too quickly did I rise. Too sudden was my ascent. Too powerfully was my message received. What I have endeavored to restore is not entirely what my nation supports. Kalos still cries out for vengeful bloodshed, while I have bled only for peace…" I closed my eyes in a facade of lament, yet still I remained undetected.

"...How does one proceed in a different direction without forfeiting momentum? How does one change the course of activism without spreading further dissension? How does one avert war without firing a shot?" A quiet sigh accompanied my admission, as I opened my eyes with deliberate slowness.

"...Sweet Kalos, whatever have I done to you?"

Not even Princess Diantha could achieve the conviction aroused by my theatrical display.

"My quandary is this, High Justicar: Kalos needs time to ease into the transition, before we recklessly plunge into a catastrophe that will only breed more resentment. To that end, I have elected to take a sabbatical from Kalos's public politics." I stated such with this conclave's first true vocalization of sovereignty. I sat proudly upon my host's accommodation; fierce in my demeanor; decisive in my expression.

"I understand your dilemma, Lord Halcyon, but you must remain conscious of ours. War and death follows you wherever you go. Your solution is commendable, but your departure from Kalos threatens to bring its civil war into Kanto. We have an expansive demography of Kalosian descent in our population. There is Kalosian nationalism within Kanto's borders. And should King Arturia suspect collusion between yourself and the government of Kanto-"

"-Cease these pretentious deliberations, and just heed the leash that owns you, Justicar." I leaned over the desk with an aggressive reflex, a cruel smile festooning my gloating face.

The time for illusions had past. The master of Adamus Oscarin had just finalized his decision.

The sudden transition in my mannerisms shocked and frightened the High Justicar. The growing presence of my shades invigorated his rising panic.

"Tell your master that I will of course adhere to his desire for anonymity. Truthfully, I wouldn't have had it any other way. Also extend my gratitude for his considerable generosity. The assistance of his agency is more than a sufficient remittance to purchase my confidence." I graced the Justicar with a knowing smirk, and the elderly man paled at my words.

"...Did you truly doubt my claim of visions, Justicar? Did you think me a charlatan; incapable of clairvoyance?" I grinned at his sweating form.

"Well, should you still doubt… then seize revelation in answering that phone call." I whispered to the silent office.

"...What phone call-?" Adamus Oscarin began on a nervous note, but a sudden ring from the corner of his desk cut the Justicar off with a start.

"...That phone call." I grinned, as Adamus Oscarin's terrified eyes fell upon his office appliance with trepidation.

"Answer it." I ordered with a chuckle, as the untended phone rang on and on.

Reluctantly handling his innocuous appliance as though it were a snake, Adamus Oscarin heeded my command, and married the phone's transceiver to his ear.

There was no deliberation. High Justicar Oscarin wasn't even permitted a say. The transmission ended in a matter of seconds. Returning the phone to its cradle with a shaking hand, Adamus Oscarin drew a leather bound pamphlet from his desk.

"Good dog." I cackled, as the Justicar signed an anonymous waiver of immunity.

"...You will abide by my nation's laws, and you will respect the terms of your agreement." The High Justicar attempted to reclaim some measure of his office's dignity; attempted to reclaim some measure of his morality; yet all that he could muster in contest to me was laid to waste with an explosion of cruel laughter.

"Some parting advice, High Justicar… A Prophet's recommendation for you…" My laughter faded, but my wicked smirk grew in its stead.

"...Take a holiday. Seek fulfilment as quickly as you can. Live as though you are fated to die the very next moment…" I snickered out the last, and claimed my waiver from the High Justicar's desk.

"...You never know how brief life is, until you reach the end of it. Take it from one who knows." I grinned at the ruined statesman before I abandoned him, empowering those awful words with the only sentiments I was capable of anymore.

Cruelty comprised my entire persona. Remorse was the axis of my being.

I had become a Ghost.

And I could no longer summon up the humanity required to deny it.

... .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"...So you actually see a different world with those eyes?"

"Yes."

"...Is it always...?"

"...Yes."

"So you look at a sunset and you see-?"

"There is no sun to be seen with these eyes. There is not beauty to behold, there is not defined manifestation. There is only truth. There is only the patterns of time."

"...And when you look at me-?"

"Your death will not be dignified nor expected. I am... very sorry."

"How can I change it?! Tell me!"

"Heh…"

"..."

"You can't. You will die. There is no escaping that."

"But how I die-"

"This world is about to change."

"..."

"...And the new world that looms upon the horizon does not apportion peaceful death to the masses. Humanity is soon to be denied that luxury."

"...What if you're wrong?"

"...If only I was…"

"...You can't claim to know the future! That's bullshit! Nothing is set in stone-!"

"Heh!"

"..."

"If you only knew… If I had but the time required to impart every hidden machination to you…"

"..."

"...Then you wouldn't need cursed eyes to see the doom rising in our future. These eyes have only guided me to such divination. They are not instruments of mysticism."

"...And your vision of the Kings?"

"The Kings are tied to every fate that I behold. They influence a paramount event that affects every life mine eyes have gleaned. I only know of the Kings because they are agents of a universal fate."

"...And you're one of the Kings?"

"...I believe so."

"...And Zane is the other?"

"...One of them, I assume."

"-One of them?!"

"Yes. One of the Three."

"There's three Kings?!"

"Oh, there are many more Kings of lesser degrees. Countless Kings who command more than their own avenues of fate. But there are only Three Kings whose sovereignty presides over the fates of all."

"...So who is the Third King?"

"I do not yet know."

"Then who do you think it is?"

"That particular individual has not revealed their potential yet. I will not recognize the Third King until he or she fulfills the prerequisites of such a monumental function."

"...And you don't even know if you're one of the Kings?"

"It is not a predestined role. Contrary to the orthodox diction, one is not born a King. One assumes that station through proper action. And my actions have placed innumerable lives beneath my jurisdiction."

"..."

"...And should the worst come to pass… Then by my actions, will I decide the fate of every soul that clambers across the earth."

"And the myth of the Aegislash-?"

"Is neither myth nor mysticism. It is merely a pitiful soul offering guidance to one of kindred fate."

"..."

"..."

"...And what ties the Three Kings together? What distinguishes them from one another?"

"Three crowns. Three drakes. One throne."

"..."

"The First King, who dons the Crown of Sorrow, the victim of his own ascension, will bring ruin to the lives of men, yet beneath his rule will their sordid endurance be assured. The Predominant Drake is his steed, and from its mighty wings, will he reluctantly govern all life and death."

"..."

"The Second King, who dons the Crown of Madness, the victim of his own doubts, will enslave the will of men, and their enumerated lives shall be spent in unending warfare. The Unconquered Drake is his steed, and from its mighty wings, will he mindlessly govern all life and death.

"..."

"The Third King, who dons the Crown of Death, the victim of his own yearnings, will abandon the kinship of men, and cull their numbers unto the security of scarcity. The Valorous Drake is his steed, and from its mighty wings, will he stolidly govern all life and death."

"..."

"...In the Cradle of Worlds, will the Three Kings meet each other in contest for the throne of their origin, and when one King triumphs over the rest, the fate of his world shall be decided by his succession."

"..."

"..."

"...So those are the Three Kings?"

"Those are the crowns that the three will inherit."

"...And the Cradle of Worlds?"

"A battlefield, I would presume."

"And the three Drakes?"

"Every one of the Three Kings' conquest pivots heavily upon a particular servant of theirs. Each King bears a Drake of unnatural power."

"...And each Drake is different?"

"...Just as the crowns that the three Kings will inherit are all different."

"The King of Sorrow, the King of Madness, and the King of Death?"

"...Each a purveyor of misfortune and discontent, wouldn't you say?"

"...So which King are you?"

"...I do not know."

"...Then which crown would you hope to inherit?"

"The Crown of Sorrow, naturally."

"Well, you meet the criteria-"

"As does Zane."

"..."

"...Peculiar, is it not? Both Zane and I, suited for every one of the crowns? For are we not both slaves of sorrow? Are we not both architects of madness? Are we not both proponents of butchery?"

"..."

"Even when one considers the distinguishing traits of the Drakes, both Zane and I still stand to inherit any one of the three crowns. We are both regarded as the most powerful. We both remain undefeated. And we are both considered valorous."

"..."

"..."

"...And what if you're the King of Death?"

"...Then it would be a kinder fate to me than inheriting the Crown of Madness."

"So no matter how you spin it, humanity as a whole loses?"

"I clarified that the changed world was a cruel one, did I not?"

"What if we stopped the Kings-?"

"You can't."

"Why not?!"

"Because the Kings are not sovereigns of fate itself per se. They are arbiters of causality. The Crowned Kings are not merely people. Their crowns represent choices. Regardless of who obtains a station, they will face the same event that presents those same choices; and that event is inescapable."

"...But maybe you're misinterpreting the vision... What if there is only one King, and three crowns?"

"Have you forgotten the contested throne in the Cradle of Worlds? Or the Three Drakes? Each King relies on a different Drake to establish his dominance. A different Drake for a different Crown."

"...So your Drake is Grigori?"

"I would never have betrayed Allan Arturia or successfully channeled Typhon without my beloved Warden. Grigori did not merely aid in establishing my dominance; Grigori made it possible."

"But Zane doesn't have-"

"He has three."

"-?"

"Darwin, Cortez, and Ramses. Each is a pseudodragon."

"Those count?"

"...For all I know, Drake could just be a pseudonym for Monster. Dragons, pseudodragons, ghosts, or symbiotes; it could make no difference whatsoever."

"But if Zane has three-"

"Zane relied heavily upon Darwin to secure his preeminence. Was it Cortez or Ramses that slew Articuno? Could either one of them even aspire to such magnificence?"

"...This is impossible to figure out..."

"And that is precisely why I have ceased devoting my efforts to discerning each crown's function and its King's identity. There is only one goal that I will commit myself to now."

"And what goal is that?"

"...Irregardless of whether it is myself or another…"

"..."

"...I will do everything in my power to insure that the King of Sorrow takes the throne."

"And your upcoming Semi-final match with Zane-?"

"Serves as only the first peal of thunder resounding from the coming storm. It is nothing more than the skirmish before the onset of total war."

"..."

"..."

"...He suffered heavy casualties in the third-quota stage, while your wraiths are as fresh as they were when you first began the Victory Road Trial. Zane is at a severe disadvantage."

"I will amend this."

"...You really do care about him, don't you?"

"Zane… Is one of only two people that I would ever call family. Would you strike your family while they are feeble and weeping amongst their own spilt blood?"

"..."

"..."

"...I just wanted to clarify something, in regards to you and Zane…"

"Of course."

"...When you first met Zane in Viridian, you didn't know that he was a potential King?"

"At that point, all I knew of Zane was that he served as a tragic puppet of ACE. When I first looked into his eyes, all I could see was uncertainty, anger, grief, hatred, arrogance and despair."

"..."

"...And when you look into his eyes now, what do you see?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...An alternative."

FUTURE CONSIDERATION:

Given their incredible level of malice, portraying the Ghosts as distinct characters is going to be quite difficult. Therefore, I've elected to have each Ghost torture Theron in a distinct and intimate way. Arguably the ideal recourse (that I can think of, at any rate) of preserving their devilish natures while revealing a tease of their old humanity is to portray each wraith's personality as a proxy of Theron's own persona.

Pariah represents Theron's integrity; emulating Theron's chivalrous virtues to the letter. A noble Ghost for a haunted knight; a symbol of strength for all the times that Theron doubts. A constant reminder that not even the honorable can escape the Distortion.

Thanatos represents Theron's loneliness. Like Theron, Thanatos is prone to reflection and solitude, always a little distant from Theron and his Ghosts, yet close to Theron all the same because of their mutual sentimentality. As the Ghost that Theron identifies the most with, Thanatos proves that even the kind of heart can be damned.

Demeter represents Theron's desire to be loved. Like Theron, Demeter craves human company and attention. Theron reciprocates Demeter's affections to a certain degree, favoring her motherly ministrations, and occasionally returning her flirtatious advances. Theron understands Demeter's desire to be loved, though try as hard as he might, Theron cannot truly bring himself to love a Ghost; a painful reminder of the solitude that awaits Theron in death.

Exodus represents Theron's fear. More than any other wraith in Theron's service, Exodus seems to take to his role as a Devil. Whereas most every other phantom embodies a certain lamentation for their mutilation; Exodus seems to celebrate it. Of all his Knights, Exodus is the only Ghost that Theron truly hates; a hatred that is deepened profusely whenever Theron realizes just how similar he is to Exodus in both his mockery and cruelty.

Typhon represents Theron's dignity, independence, and rage. Typhon is the closest analogue of a spirit unbeholden to the Distortion; but even if Typhon can escape the rules and the realm that twisted him; the wraith cannot undo what it did to him. Typhon reinforces Theron's sentiment of helplessness by showing Theron that no matter how powerful he becomes, Theron will never be able to escape his fate.

So in a manner of speaking… Theron isn't only losing his humanity in channeling these wraiths. He's also becoming an amalgamation of all their personalities. Might be important to keep "Angry Theron" out of the story until after he's channeled Typhon. But fuckit decisions have been made in the past, so…