A/N: Sorry for taking so long on this one, and for this chapter being really long too.

This time, "To Die For" seemed a perfectly suitable song for my playlist considering what takes place near the middle to end of this chapter. ^^

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Pokemon, Kirby, or any other related characters or plot. I do, however, own my characters and original events; Sapphire Kyogre owns her OC Kyrheen and several plot elements of her own, as well as the fanname "Sheroku" for Kirby and Meta Knight's species.

Song of Trìlfluarii: Chapter 1

Revelation

A branch shuddered.

It was the only memento of some hundred yards' journey. A mistake. Swallowed in the ravenous maw that was the paralyzed world's vast silence, only the keenest senses could pick out the disturbance – or those desperate and hell–bent on achieving their goal.

Naturally, my pursuers happened to fall within the latter group.

It was nothing new, of course. Primal Dialga's bootlickers went after anyone and anything they felt opposed the tyrant's rule. I was rebellious by nature, so it was no surprise I'd become their newest target the instant they laid eyes on me. Or so I had thought.

I was currently traversing Midnight Forest by leaping stealthily between withered black crowns. It was far safer than fleeing on the ground, because Mew knew how many traps were concealed beneath those innocent deciduous leaves. There was also the risk of running into an angry local or two. And while the extended field of vision was next to useless when the word 'camouflage' meant life over death, it was a lot easier to fight from above. Besides, no one ever looks up.

By no means were the trees harmless, however. I always had to be careful to mind my footing. Invitingly rugged footholds were usually lies that crumbled beneath your feet; bark with a silvery sheen could make an undesirable slipping noise. Any remaining tufts of black leaves were deadly as far as silence was concerned.

Even the roiling thunder was two-faced. On some occasions it was a short break from the smothering lack of noise and something that would mask my location as effectively as a veil of smoke. But I was blind as well, and my foes could gain a mile without me ever knowing it.

So I continued my flight with everything in mind. The exertion on my body was already beginning to take its toll. The dead air provided no headwind to take away the heat, and I could not breathe hard and risk indicating my location. Even the empty pouch that dangled by my hip, slung over one shoulder with a leather strap, was starting to feel heavy. I would have to rest soon.

Pausing on a tree, I swiftly tried to triangulate the positions of my foes with sharp, birdlike tilts of my head. Nothing. Only the small shuffling of several Seedot on the forest floor below and a rustle I recognized as a Murkrow's brittle feathers to my right.

Keep moving. Preaccustomed self-discipline spurred me to go on; I stopped only once more, to try again.

It occurred to me then that something was wrong. There was still not the telltale kmp-kmp-kmp of muffled running steps to be heard anywhere in a fairly large radius. And I had learned from experience never to underestimate an opponent.

Was I walking into a trap? In spite of myself, my heart shot cold thrills of adrenaline through my veins, a mixture of fear and excitement. Now this was a challenge.

Thinking fast, I made less effort to conceal my fatigue as I went on. It was harder than expected. Far more exhausted than I let on, restraint was torture. I had to use every shred of willpower I had to pant softly instead of gasp for breath.

When I couldn't go on any longer, I gathered my nerves and swooped down onto the dark bed of leaves beneath. I took pride in the all but silent landing: it took skill to land quietly on the equivalent of a Seviper's crinkly shed skin, thank you very much.

Quickly I picked out several stones from among the leaves and hefted them. Finding a larger one to my liking, I scrambled back up, hurled it several trees ahead, and whirled around to leap headlong in the opposite direction.

A satisfying crack sounded from behind me, but I was already long gone. By now my limbs were trembling. Nearly there! Keep moving, I urged myself on. Within minutes, the usual burning in my lungs accelerated into raging tongues of flame. Keep moving!

Can't.

And I was suddenly stumbling, falling. Gripping a broken branch.

Instincts kicked in and whipped my tail up and around another branch, allowing me to flip backwards to safety.

If I had been trembling before, my body was now shaking violently. Before me, a cracked stump had replaced a lengthy black limb, the likes of which were now splintered in the gray dust settling below the tree. I'd been careless. And now I had no choice but to rest.

I half-jumped, half-stumbled out of the tree and dragged myself across the cold ground, toward a hollow beneath one of its neighbor's twisted roots. I shuddered. A confined space beneath the earth was not my ideal rest stop. But the instant I crawled in between them, frothing at the mouth and gulping in air, I could have been in paradise.

I took in my surroundings through weary eyes that blurred any edges or contours in my vision. Wistful spots of gray light melted into the blackness where above, the roots parted briefly like gaps between prison bars. The air was dense with a musty scent, but at least it absorbed the sound of my panting slightly.

It was several long minutes before I caught my breath. Even then, my body was weary and sore. I could only hope I'd come far enough. Surely I had to have lost them by now… And it was so hard to keep my eyes from closing…

"There you are."

My eyelids snapped open. A sharp, goblin-like face was leering from beyond the tangle of black roots and earth: a Sableye.

"We have you surrounded, outlaw," it said, its voice sounding halfway between a wheeze and a rasp. "I would advise you to come quietly. Of course, you wouldn't dare try anything silly like resisting, now would you?" The Pokémon's eyes glinted as viciously as the teeth it presently bared in a grin.

Time. I needed time. Dipping my head resentfully, I clambered out, thinking. I couldn't run or fight just yet; my exhaustion would weigh me I feign ignorance? Not if they've been tailing me this entire time, I grimaced.

The Sableye hadn't lied. Two others of its shady kin, one smaller and one larger, rushed from either side to apprehend me as soon as I emerged.

As they gripped both my arms, the lead Sableye remarked, "Nice trick, doubling back. The same trick you recently used to outwit a C-class unit, am I correct?"

I said nothing.

"Not a talkative one, are you? No matter." He smiled nastily. "All who have committed to heresy are the same under our lord's Sentence.

"Anyway, it was easy enough to give up the chase and monitor this sector for your inevitable return. I wouldn't attempt escape in your condition, especially as compared to ours. You are to come with us without a struggle, or we will not hesitate to execute the Sentence on our own terms."

With that, we began to move. The entirety of Midnight Forest seemed to hold its breath as we passed. If there was any Pokémon in their right mind that wasn't afraid of a pack of hunting Sableye, I had yet to meet them. Then again, they'd probably either go by the name of "Primal Dialga" or "dead."

At first the lead Sableye didn't let me escape his gaze. But as the forest grew more and more sparse, he appeared to check his course more frequently.

And then there was one time when he looked away completely.

I wasted no time. "Bullet Seed!" I barked, spraying a barrage of needle-like seeds in the smaller Sableye's face. It slackened its grip with a startled yelp; I was about to free my remaining arm when the lead Sableye lunged at me.

Damn! He was expecting it, I thought fleetingly. I moved out of the way and whirled to face his flank, parallel with my captor, and yanked my forearm to my shoulder. The Sableye's grip was broken instantly, leaving bloody furrows behind.

I winced, but took out the larger Sableye's legs with a sweeping kick and simultaneously ducked and sidestepped to dodge their leader's horizontal swipe. As his momentum carried him forward, I wound up behind him.

"Underhanded wretch!" spat the smallest Sableye from a few feet to my right. She – for the voice was unmistakably female – had apparently recovered and was preparing to rip me to shreds with gleaming claws. "Fury Swipes!"

I grabbed the leader by the throat so quickly it would have snapped the neck of any normal Pokémon and thrust him like a shield at his furious comrade. The shriek that resulted was enough to liquefy bone. Blood sprayed from claw and wound alike and splattered my exposed arms, in addition to the grooves still weeping scarlet streams of my own.

I dropped the lead Sableye, assuming the smallest had ceased her assault, and turned to fight the third Pokémon. Not a moment too soon – he was almost upon me with claws extended. "Shadow Claw!" he screeched, and they ignited with black flames, lapping like ebony waves along his claws' lengths.

Had I not spun to face the large Sableye, the attack would have been unavoidable. As it was, it was still pretty likely I would wind up with a foot-long gash and probably bleed to death. Not fun. So I launched an attack of my own at the ground: "Pound!" My tail slammed through the layer of leaves and against the solid ground, propelling me into the air-

-and I went down with the small Sableye ripping an approximately twelve-inch wound in my back. Oh, the irony.

I retained enough dignity to bite down fiercely on my tongue and hiss my agony. The small Sableye laughed in a hysterical way that made me think she was not completely sane. Was it some kind of side effect for Fury Swipes? She must have gone through her own leader to get to me so quickly.

See, pain doesn't really numb my mind like it does to everyone else. Instead, it goes into hyperdrive, making the rest of the world seem as if it's been plunged into a sea of honey. I was very appreciative of this feature at the moment. When the large Sableye closed in, slower than an exhausted Snorlax, I was ready.

"Absorb!" I rasped through a mouthful of copper. The large Sableye wavered and stumbled to his knees as a green orb drained from his body and plunged into my own. Immediately I felt my smaller injuries mending on their own with the life force from the Sableye, and even the severe laceration on my back became shallower by a significant amount.

I shook off the small Sableye and with her, the sensation of incredible speed. She fell back as I flipped backward into the air, repeating the life-draining move as I cleared her head, to land gracefully behind her now prone form.

Energy washed over me once more to heal the remaining wound. What was left over was used to rejuvenate my own stamina. I felt as if I'd just had a full meal and a good rest, and maybe a really inspiring pep talk, because I was raring to fight.

I glanced around the battlefield. The small Sableye behind me was struggling to get up; her larger companion wasn't faring much better. He had gotten to his feet, but was trembling with the effort. A patch of bloodstained ground with leaves and soil displaced was where their leader…

Should have been. But wasn't. My heart pounded with dread and I twisted my head frenetically from one side to the other. Where?

Then I knew – felt him, heard him pulling back his lips in a terrible grin. "Behind you," he hissed, his cold breath chilling my neck. I tried to clout him with a furled tail, but he caught it easily and slammed me on the ground in an instant. An involuntary grunt escaped me.

The lead Sableye drove his claws between my shoulders, snarled "Shadow Ball!" and pressed the icy hot sphere against my neck, primed for release. He jeered, "Ready to die, insolent scum?"

"Always."

The second before he launched the fatal orb, I screamed, "Dig!" Immediately I was plunged into the darkness beneath the earth, followed by the shrieking Sableye. He was trying desperately to free his claws from where they were buried in my flesh. As we fell, I twisted so I was staring up at the faraway light and with the Sableye beneath me. With a motion of my arm the floor rose up to meet him. I grimaced at the crunch of bone.

"But not now," I concluded. Scrambling off of the fallen leader, I noticed he had saved himself by sacrificing a leg. But by his pain-contorted expression, I doubted he was going anywhere. Still, it was best not to take any chances.

I tunneled horizontally by motioning as if I were digging. Pokémon that were physically suited to burrowing could use the move to greater effect, but I was lucky to even know the rare attack. Lucky, I echoed. I paused to eye the walls of the constricting, tomb-like passage I was creating and shivered. …Right.

Within half a minute I'd gone far enough. I bunched up the muscles in my legs and shot up into the ceiling. I knew what would happen, but I'd never get used to it. I squeezed my eyes shut when I should have collided with the tunnel's roof; instead, the dense gray rock parted around me and I was at the surface in moments.

I scrabbled for a foothold on the sheer walls of the pit. Finding none, I used my arms to heave myself up. With that, the move was complete. I waited distantly for the sound of the injured Sableye's panicked howl within the roar of the tunnels' collapse below. It never came.

And there he was: dragging himself out of the dirt several yards away, coughing up grit and dust. His two underlings were already rushing to his side.

I sighed, "Will you go ahead and die already?"

Their leader whipped his gaze to me at the noise. He hoarsely yelled something that sounded like, "You fools! Go after him!" Considering how far away he was, it could have been, "New rules! Go for a swim!" but I had my doubts.

This time I let them come. When they drew close enough, I launched a Bullet Seed to weaken them. The two Sableye simply threw up their arms to cover their faces and continued unwaveringly. But the perspiration glistening as brilliant as their gem-like eyes told me it was effective enough.

"Quick Attack!" I yelled. I closed the remaining distance between the smaller Sableye and me with a burst of speed and struck the startled Pokemon a direct hit on the skull. She staggered back, gasped a trace of blood, and slowly collapsed.

The larger Sableye howled outrage and tore into my left shoulder. It was so sudden I let out a screech before I could stop myself. I pulled away; he bore down on me with another Shadow Claw.

I was hurting enough that I managed to think of my one instantaneous move that could block the attack. "Pound!" I screamed. My tail swung forward to meet the Sableye's claws. The two attacks locked instantly. For a moment we grappled for the upper hand, until I decided to end it by using Bullet Seed. The Pokemon lost just enough focus that I was able to edge one leg out and kick him hard on one kneecap. An almost inaudible click informed me I had at least succeeded in fracturing it.

The large Sableye had no time to react before my tail broke the persisting contact and struck a blow that sent him sprawling to the ground, unconscious.

"Oh, and we were having so much fun, too. Shame." I shook my head in mock sadness.

I turned and started to walk away coolly. Stopped. Something seemed to have snagged around my right foot. A downward glance revealed the cause: the Sableye's leader was gripping my ankle tightly with a final, resigned effort. Panting the last rattling breaths out of him like some asphyxiated wraith, eyes vacant and hollow.

Startled, I yelped and instinctively tried to twist away. The Sableye held on grimly. For a second, as he heard my cry of alarm, I thought a gleam entered his eyes, like the brief flash of lightning between dismal clouds.

How the hell did he-? My mind reeled. The Sableye seemed to reply to my thoughts directly.

"Substitute," he rasped with a hint of pride. "Our lord allows only choice commanders to utilize Technical Machines."

I tensed. Unfortunately, the little Kakuna-spawn noticed.

"Primal Dialga could have use of you. You'd run the ranks quickly using that Di-"

"Never," I spat. My eyes glared cold disgust at the wretched goblin. I didn't care what kind of lovely explanation he had – revulsion surged through me the instant he suggested I give myself up willingly to some honeyed form of servitude. And for what? To grovel at the feet of the dictator that had created this living hell?

It came to me then. A childish thought, but one that could give me a name to be reckoned with, to be feared and respected by other Pokémon. I raised my chin and declared, "The Marauder answers to no one."

The corners of his mouth twitched. Suddenly he burst into a ragged laughter that became a hideous gurgling noise. The ground shone with red, swiftly complimented by a gruesome shade of black that managed to contrast with even the sooty earth.

He was mocking me.

I stepped back. Tight wrinkles began to spread across my face, contorted it. "Get away from me," I snarled, staring down at his disfigured shape. "You're not worth my time."

A twisted grin. A tilt of the head. "Are you quite sure of that?"

But I was already running again. Deep into the forest, where no one would ever catch me. Just like before…

I should have killed him. Why didn't I kill him? Something was wrong with me. But then, something always was. And now it was surfacing again, twisting up from my stomach and rising in my gorge, pressing close my jaws and welling in my eyes.

Then came the hard part: stemming the rush of memories. Sometimes I could wrestle them down. Others, like now, I may as well have tried to block a torrential river with my own small, insignificant body.

They all came crashing down at once. I would glimpse bits and pieces as they flashed through my mind. Still that was enough. My memory stirred like some terrible beast was breaking his chains and rising to the surface. But out of his fearsome, all-engulfing jaws came a voice completely different: higher-pitched and anxious. "…Father?" it says, "…Father…? …Father? …"

"Father?" At his parent's cry, the young Treecko abandons his sparse handful of Cheri Berries and rushes to the former's motionless side. "What is it, Father?"

The Sceptile does not move for an instant. He is frozen in the position of touching a leaf, drooping on the end of a gray branch, with the tip of a claw. Cold sweat glitters like jewels on his reptilian skin. The breath comes out suddenly, fast and heavy. He slowly twists his stiff neck to gaze upon his son. The Treecko's gaunt face is smudged with dirt and shadows. "Nothing, Son." The Sceptile forces a weary smile.

The little lizard Pokémon's wide eyes drop their gaze sullenly. "It happened again, didn't it. Another seizure."

"Oh, Treecko," the Sceptile sighs, smile a wilting flower. He kneels and gently rests his claws on his son's shoulder. "Don't worry about me. Do I look like I've been hurt?"

"Well, not really, but-"

"There you have it. And you have to remember to watch out for yourself, too."

Treecko darkens. "I know. I just hate it when I can't help you. Just… just after she…" He swallows. "I don't want a-anything to happen to you."

Sceptile curls an arm around Treecko and draws him close.

They both hear it. A crash in the undergrowth somewhere behind them, followed by a short, stifled cry.

Treecko's reptilian pupils dilate slightly, but his father whips around to the origin of the sound and goes completely rigid. His tail bristles as he whispers, hastily yet deliberate: "Treecko. I want you to get away from here. Go as fast as you can the instant I give the signal. Make sure you're not seen."

A chill runs down Treecko's spine as his young mind grasps intent. When Sceptile turns back to him, the little Pokemon's blood freezes cold. His father's eyes are older than he had ever seen before. Older even than he had ever known.

"I need you to listen closely, now, my son. Do you understand?" Sceptile's voice is calm and confident, as usual. He is never unprepared.

Treecko nods and is reassured, as always, knowing his father has some plan to get them both out of the situation. What he does not, cannot possibly know is the air of finality that has laced Sceptile's tone.

But it is not quite a plan that the battle-scarred Pokémon reveals. He leans in and whispers in Treecko's ear, "This I entrust to you, Treecko. The location of the Temple of the Ancients. This secret is yours and yours alone. Should you disclose it to anyone, it will result in your death and that of every – thing – you – know." Treecko's heart begins to pound quickly.

"Far to the northeast lies a land known as the Arcane Outlook – a long, rugged stretch of land that leads to a promontory on which the Temple resides. The shortest route to reach it – though by no means the least dangerous – is the Midnight Forest. It will be difficult, but you must make it. I believe you can.

"I am far more concerned about what you will choose to do when you arrive. A greater journey awaits there, should you decide to accept it."

A swishing noise stirs the deadlocked air. It is relatively nearby; they have little time left.

"But you will not be alone. You will find a guide… from the Rift…" Sceptile trails off and glances over his shoulder. This time when he whips his head back to Treecko, his eyes are screaming what his tongue cannot dare speak.

Run.

Run, and never look back.

Treecko cannot. He merely stands, stunned and horrified beyond belief, until his father strikes him a heavy blow with his tail that hurtles him a few feet away to sprawl in the bushes. But Sceptile does not follow his son this time. He straightens and fixes his gaze so he will look his opponent straight in the eye when he arrives.

The silent oath Sceptile had committed to Treecko still rings in the young Pokémon's head, louder even than the spoken promise. Run, his father is imploring over and over, Run…

And Treecko is running. He scrambles over boulders and hurtles fallen branches, sprinting through briers that claw at his limbs and torso and face until he can't tell whether it's the blood or the hot tears that form the rivulets that stream down and crease the grime on his face.

He might have gone on running if he hadn't heard the distant voices. Instead he slows near the top of a hill and ducks behind a craggy rock, just barely peering over its edge.

The first voice: "Sceptile." Haughty, contemptuous. Treecko's stomach knots with rage as the upper body of a shadow-veiled figure comes into view through a gap in two large shrubs, then flickers behind the next bush just as quickly.

Sceptile's voice is cool and analytical as ever and Treecko feels a fierce pang of fear and love for his father. "It's been too long, my friend. But you never bothered to pay me a visit. I'm-"

"Hurt, I'm sure," the first drawls, as if the notion itself is horribly distasteful. He has an odd manner of inflection that could almost be an accent. "Now you should know by now what we're here for."

Sceptile growls, "As you should know I will take my own life before I give it to you."

"Well, well. We're feeling rather noble today, aren't we? How touching. Let's see just how far that pride takes you when you're pleading for mercy at the stockade."

"The dead cannot beg," the emerald lizard snarls.

"Very well. You shall have your wish, then, Sceptile. You can be certain of it. Once you have given us the information – and you will – you shall indeed perish. But it will not be the easy release you desperately wish for, the petty coward you are. No. It will be slow and meticulous, I promise you that, my old friend. And more painful than you could ever believe." A cruel, booming laughter emanates from the vale below.

"You are wrong. I have already known all the suffering in the world. There is nothing left that will force me to betray them."

"Oh? The Gallade, he said something similar before the new method was utilized and he divulged your location. Perhaps you are the one who is wrong, Sceptile."

"Evrek would never do such a thing! You snake-tongued bast-"

"Ah, but he did." There is a silence. Then:

"…No. No!"

A flash of green illuminates the dark valley below, and suddenly the tense air is fractured with the sounds of battle. Treecko's heart seems about to burst with terror. He cannot see what is happening to his father, but shadows flash between the snarled, concealing bushes and pained screeches pierce his ears.

"Get him," the first voice snaps, and Sceptile cries out. Another flare of green. The lifeless bodies of four smaller Pokémon fly through the air like broken toys. Wisps of blood lace the air. A crimson mist is settling over the valley, tainting it like rust. The bitter tang of copper fills Trecko's nostrils. Whether the blood is his father's or his enemies', he cannot be sure.

A few deafening explosions send clots of soil and other, softer, material that Treecko does not want to think about spattering the ground. Occasionally bits of it stain the rock he hides behind, but despite his father's orders, he cannot move. Instead the little Pokémon stares, transfixed, clutching the rim of the boulder with white knuckles and a pale face.

Sceptile snarls again and more bodies hurtle through the air. His foes scream as Treecko imagines him cutting them down at every turn. Suddenly a blast of purple energy is sent loose. It veers high in the air to catch Sceptile, who has leaped high enough to clear a tree to evade the attack, but peters out before it can do so.

Treecko catches a glimpse of his father in that moment. He looks invincible as he rises, one leg tucked into his chest, the other extended; his raptor's claws open wide to strike, glaring down upon the enemies below. His skin glistens with red, but most of his wounds are superficial. The young Pokémon's desperate heart now surges with hope.

Sceptile dives back into the fray. More shrieks, energy blasts, flares, and explosions result. There is the frequent report of crunching bone and the gruesome mix of slice and squelch that means claws tearing into flesh.

But the shadows continue to flit through the underbrush at an alarming rate. Treecko's father is fighting a never ending battle. But the two of them have both beaten the odds before. Maybe, just maybe, Sceptile can get out of this alive.

A few minutes later, Treecko will be proven wrong.

His father screams. Once, then again; the second is choked and strained. A hush falls over the battlefield.

"So this is the mighty Sceptile. How pitiful he looks now," the voice sneers.

All of a sudden, Sceptile cries out, and Treecko is shaking with not only fear now, but fury, as he realizes the owner of the voice has kicked his father. The shadows' voices begin to snicker. When more shrieks and groans are produced, they grate the air with their eager laughter.

"What's wrong, Sceptile? Where did all your ever-so-honorable audacity run off to? Or is it off hiding behind the dead bodies of the Operation, where it always was?" More of the horrible laughter.

"Come along. Let's bring him to the stockade."

Shadows of a myriad small figures began to shift through the bushes. But they are stopped dead by a guttural sound.

Sceptile rises. As he does, he lets loose a roar that seems to shake the entire world. He is standing between a gap in the undergrowth, drenched in blood, the red stripe on his front flashing like a banner. The color of rebellion. And the eyes of father and son meet for the last time.

Treecko is no longer running, but stumbling up the hill, vision blurring fast. But when he hears his father's last cry, he cannot help but disobey him.

And he is blind. Blind with the scalding tears that will not stop, as if trying to clear his eyes of the thing he had just seen.

Treecko had looked back. Had seen his father impale his own heart with a Leaf Blade.

He didn't remember anything of his flight, save for one glimpse of two of the shadowy figures. One was small, but the other was larger, and Treecko was certain he was the one with the mocking voice.

"I'll kill you," he swore fervently. "One day, I will kill you all…"

… It took me some time to realize where I was. All I could see at first was the face of my father, the terrible field of battle.

I blinked a few times to rouse myself from the reccurring nightmare. The images faded from darkness into darkness. I was curled up, shivering, in the fork of a tree. A fierce spear of lightning flashed above and thunder grumbled its assent.

I sighed. Squeezed my eyes shut, tucked my head beneath my tail, and shifted my position slightly, trying to get comfortable. When the Sableye came again, I'd need a good rest.

A Murkrow croaked and took wing. The strokes hissed through the gray sky and faded away as my thoughts began to spiral down beyond a vanishing point that would take me to sleep…

But I couldn't. You're betraying your word, Treecko. My eyelids twitched and pressed shut.

I continued to drift off when it came again. Go away, I growl. I won't do it. It did not return, but the damage had been done.

I'd given up searching for the Temple a long time ago, made Midnight Forest my home. It was far more dangerous than Dusk Forest, but they were similar enough; survival wasn't too bad. If it wasn't for those damned daydreams it would have been perfect.

I realized it then. The most obvious course of action. My eyes widened – how could I not have thought of it before? I jumped out of the tree, took my bearings, and began to trek toward the northeast with renewed vigor. Not for my father's sake, but for my own. Because maybe, just maybe, if I got to this Temple of the Ancients, he would stop haunting me at every step and I could lead a normal life. Alone.

And so it was with determined steps that I strode forward. Into a future I could live in. In which I would live my own life, free from the wills of others, as the infamously feared Marauder. I thought back on the little skirmish and smiled, without knowing how wrong I would be.

I like to pride myself on my honed senses. But there is always a margin of error to preserve the laws of survival for time immemorial. So that there is always, always a way for the weakest to kill the strongest.

And in that battle with the Sableye, I failed to take heed in the way the pack knew exactly where I would be, knew exactly what I would do, how dangerous I was. Yet there were only three of them when they might have bested me with five or six.

It would take me far longer to notice another critical detail. That the spark in the lead Sableye's expression…

I hadn't imagined it.

A/N: Lots of mysterious things going down in this chapter. =P Although for PMD fans, a few of them - such as the voice speaking to Sceptile - should be obvious. For exclusively HnK fans... well, this chapter may not make a lot of sense at all, unless you took my advice in my A/N for the prologue. I should probably fix that. ...Maybe later. XP

The next chapter will not be for a while, as I am revamping the prologue first.

I'm really working hard on my writing style, so please review! I'd love some constructive criticism, though I already have the characters and plot mapped out and am not willing to change them any further; everything else is fair game though. I'd like to hear your thoughts. =)

Also, crunchy robots.