Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon.

Notes: Due to my schedule, I'm only able to update wed-fri weekly. I cannot update sat-tues even if I wanted to as I don't have access to internet those days... This weird internet schedule will persist for the foreseeable future. Sorry for the inconvenience (at least I can write in my free time on those days).

This story contains slash (boy/boy) and straight pairings. I hope you enjoy my story and if you do (or don't for that matter), please leave a review! As nice as positive reviews can be, constructive criticism is even better, so if you have any of that please share. ^^

Chapter Three- Prophecy

"It's been a while since we spent a night in the digital world," Hikari says. Her back is resting against a tree trunk. Its arching canopy of leaves weaves an organic pattern in the sky. The stars above twinkle in the absolute calm of the night. For a moment the brunette wonders if stars in the Digital World behave as they do in the Real World, whether they were massive, gravity-bound spherical conglomerations of plasma, or if they were something entirely different.

"Too long," Gatomon says. She is curled up beside her partner, tail ring catching and reflecting the moonlight from all three moons. "I wish you'd come more often."

"Sorry," Hikari says. "But now its summer again. We'll be able to come out more."

"You better!"

Jijimon hadn't provided any useful information. According to him, the only thing threatening the neighbourhood was a troublesome, clumsy Digimon prone to accidentally set things on fire; nothing worth calling in the cavalry. So why were the chosen called to this section of the Digital World?

Maybe this was the wrong section of the Digital World. Had Koushiro made a mistake?

"Koushiro doesn't make mistakes when it comes to this sort of thing," Miyako shot down Hikari's innocent comment.

"I'm sorry for suggesting something so unreasonable," Hikari rolls her eyes. To everyone's genuine surprise, it turned out the Koushiro actually wasn't asexual. The Chosen found this out when Miyako (in a declaration 10 decibels higher then it should have been) announced that Koushiro agreed to a date. And while the relationship only lasted a few weeks before personality and age incompatibilities (sixteen vs. nineteen) led to their mutual separation, the two retained a lasting emotional bond. It was impossible for someone to contradict anyone Miyako had a lasting emotional bond with, even if that person themselves was another subject of her lasting emotional bond...

The two sit in silence for a while. Nearby, the other four chosen are setting up camp. They didn't bring too much, as they could only load what they could carry. A few blankets, some foodstuffs, other essentials.

"How you holding up?" Miyako asks, following Hikari's gaze. It leads her right to Takeru, facing away, sifting through his overnight bag.

"I'm great, why wouldn't I be?" Hikari says.

Miyako gives her an incredulous look. "I meant the whole Takeru thing," Her voice is a whisper.

"Oh, I'm ok, I guess..."

"That bad, huh?" Miyako moves closer to the brunette. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," Hikari says, shaking her head. But Miyako is a very persuasive woman. It is impossible to keep anything from her; Hikari had given up on that long ago. She is charismatic and has a deep desire to console her friends in need. Her support is a perfectly reflective house of mirrors, trapping a beam of light with 100 percent efficiency. Invincible support.

"...And that he is already in a relationship with another girl," Hikari says, recreating the scene from memory.

"That's really odd," Miyako says, massaging the brunette's shoulders. Gatomon and Hawkmon left the conversation minutes ago at Miyako's gentle request. "I always thought you two would end up together."

"Me too, honestly," Hikari's voice is bitter.

"What's her name?"

"I don't know."

"What! How do you not know her name?"

"I was angry," Hikari says, pulling away, turning to face her friend. "And I wasn't thinking straight."

"But you would like to know who she is, right?"

"I don't know, possibly," Hikari says. But curiosity is building inside.

"Well I want to find out. Then I'll possibly let you know."

llllllllll

Takeru opens his eyes, just a crack. It's still dark outside, but the sun is beginning to rise in the east. The sky is tinted navy blue, a few wisps of clouds float gently in the air currents above his head. He glances around him, all five other Chosen and their partners are present and sleeping on their respective blankets. He yawns.

Sunrise in the Digital World is a lot like sunrise in the Real World, both are vibrant and beautiful. He contemplates waking up Patamon so the two can share the awesome spectacle, but doesn't. Patamon's probably seen the sunrise numerous times already anyways.

But Patamon is actually awake. Takeru nearly jumps when he looks at his partner, only to find eyes staring back at him. But Patamon doesn't look like he's woken up to watch the sunrise.

"We are not alone, someone's watching us," Patamon says, flipping one hundred eighty degrees and into battle position. His words take a few seconds to sink in, and the blond is fumbling for his Digivice.

"Who's there?" Takeru shouts, tearing a few other Chosen out of their dreams and into reality. There is no answer, but a rustling in the leaves gives away the Digimon's positioning.

"Air Shot!" A burst of concentrated air is fired into the trees. It hits its target, and a deceptively fragile-looking digimon falls off its branch and onto the hard ground below.

"Ow!" The pink Digimon says, rubbing his head with one hand. "What kind of welcome is this?" His other hand grasps his spear. Picklemon looks up at Takeru and finds him in a battle stance, Digivice extended, with his partner Patamon positioned defensively in front of him.

"Who are you?" Takeru asks. "And why were you watching us?"

"Whoa, calm down there hotshot," Picklemon raises his hand submissively. "Point that Patamon elsewhere; I didn't come to fight you."

Takeru studies the pink Digimon. Its physique is very familiar. The Chosen had an encounter with such a digimon before. He just had to sift through eight years worth of distorted memories...

"Have we met before?" Takeru asks. He recalls its name now. The Chosen met a similar Digimon eight years ago. Was it the same Picklemon that sacrificed itself so the Chosen could escape the Dark Masters?

"I don't think so," Picklemon says. "Look. I think we got off on the wrong branch. I am Picklemon, a representative of the Prophet."

"I'm Takeru."

"I know. You are the Chosen Children. I'm glad you got my message." It would be inaccurate to call them Chosen Children now; a more appropriate title would have been Chosen Young Adults. But there is no alliteration in that. They didn't mind the old terminology.

"Wait. You are the one who sent the message?" Ken asks. He is wide awake now, like four of the other Chosen.

"Yes, I am. I am glad you came, because – Is he dead or something?" Picklemon points to Daisuke, pleasantly sleeping through the conversation.

"Daisuke, wake up!" Miyako screams, a compulsory evacuation from his dreams. The boy jumps into reality, looking around frantically.

"What, what?" Everyone's eyes are on Daisuke. He looks around and spots Picklemon. He blinks; perhaps the Digimon was a phantasm from his dream? Rub eyes, clear away sleep, look again. Still there...

"Oh Daisuke, the supposed leader of the Chosen. How nice of you to join us," Picklemon says, punching the ground with his spear handle. The rest of the chosen bring Daisuke up to speed.

"Yes, I sent the message. The Prophet will explain everything; he requested that I take you to him immediately. Well, when you woke up. That was why I was watching you sleep. Sorry that I startled you, it wasn't my intention in the slightest. So if you'd be willing to join me, I'll take you to him immediately."

llllllllll

The Chosen follow Picklemon back to Meadowville. The sun has now fully risen above the horizon line, and the morning air is comfortably warm. The blankets they used for the night are wrapped up in backpacks and duffel bags. One of the Digital World's moons – the biggest one – is still visible in the sky as a dim sphere. The others have since receded from view.

Picklemon refuses to offer any other information on the topic. Perhaps he doesn't want to dilute the Prophet's (divine?) message with his subjective deduction. At least that is Ken's viewpoint.

After over an hour of walking, the Chosen arrive at Meadowville. The town is already alive with civilian traffic, in fact more so then yesterday. The streets are now populated with Adult-level Digimon, many of the Child digimon are no where to be found.

"Perhaps they go to school too," Hikari suggests. She briefly fathoms what it would be like to be a full-time Digimon school teacher. It makes her giggle.

"That would be... terrible," Daisuke says.

"But if they have schools, they might have gym. And they might have soccer."

"Well," Daisuke sighs. "Ok. Tolerable. As long as there's no math..."

"What's math?" Vmon asks innocently.

Daisuke shudders. "You don't want to know."

They arrive at a hut. It is near the center of the town, but it doesn't stand out in any way. No mystical markings, no hieroglyphics of any sort. No statues, no crowds, no anything. Picklemon gestures for them to enter. Hikari leads the foray.

"I guess nobody's home," Daisuke says upon inspection of the hut. He is the last of the humans to enter. There are a few scattered possessions lying about, but none of the mystical paraphernalia one would expect a mystic to possess. For a brief moment, Daisuke considers this entire thing might be a trap. He instinctively feels for his Digivice, just in case things turn sour.

"Looks can be deceiving," Picklemon says, meeting the curious gaze of the Chosen. He peeks out the door, making sure the group wasn't followed. "It pays to be cautious," he says. He claps twice, and pounds the ground twice with his spear handle. Then he waves the blade left to right, and left again. The nothingness is now filled with something, and energy field or something. The projection is spherical. A distortion in the field appears, like an entrance, beckoning the Chosen to step inside.

The Chosen enter the sphere, hesitantly. At its center sits a Wizarmon, cross-legged and meditating. He looks up lazily, sees the quantity of visitors and flinches. He stands and bows.

"Sweet mother of Qinglongmon, you found them!" The Wizarmon bows his head. "It is an honour to meet the legendary Chosen, two-time saviours of the Digital World.

"Sup," Daisuke says. Hikari elbows him the side.

"It is nice to meet you too," Hikari says, bowing in response. "Are you the Prophet?"

"That would be me. I cannot believe our message made it to you. I am grateful you came to our aid in such a dire time."

"We do whatever we can to help," Iori says. He has grown up a lot since the defeat of Belialvamdemon. He is now two centimetres shorter then Hikari and his hair (which had always been buzzed) had been allowed to grow out longer. It was brown and subtly spiked. He had been diagnosed as farsighted, and now required reading glasses when he did homework. But he maintained his thin, compact body frame and a determined sense of morality.

"Then your reputation is deserved," Wizarmon says. "But enough introductions, we have much to speak of and time is running out."

Wizarmon makes a few abstract hand motions, and the dark energy that holds the Prophet's realm together animates to life. Like a television screen being turned on, the darkness disappears and is replaced by a whirlwind of color and pattern. They are now looking at the sky, a familiar sight, a replica of the one they saw last night. It's speckled with glistening stars. Wizarmon points to one in particular. The Chosen immediately recognise it; it was the brightest star in the sky last night. Everyone commented about it some time in the evening. No one thought it as a relevant threat.

"That is Dark Star," Wizarmon says. It's contradictory, and Daisuke feels the burning desire to comment on the matter, but refrains. "Its name is conceived from the Dark Star prophecy, an ancient prophecy which foretells of a great dark age, the beginning of which corresponds to the appearance of this object."

"How does it work? What does the star have to do with the dark age?" Ken asks.

"To be honest, I don't know. I don't know what the star's significance, only that it is indeed significant. Significant enough to draw the attention of this malignant group," the wall's imagery shifts. The sky is replaced by the ground, and the marching of a fearsome army. A soldier in dark armour leads the Digimon. A mechanical object is attached to his back. Thrusters? A weapon?

"They call themselves the Advent. Everywhere they go they leave a trail of death and destruction. We don't know what they want, or what they are fighting for, but I have reason to suspect they are trying to kill me." Wizarmon says, facing the wall display.

"We won't let that happen," Daisuke says, impulsively and urgently. The others nod in agreement.

"That is kind of you," Wizarmon says. He pauses and thinks back to his wife's inevitable capture. A contorted expression forms on his face. "However, shortly I'll no longer be of relevance. My purpose, I have concluded, is to pass on a message. A colleague of mine will be delivering a tablet, direct from the Digital World's premier repository of knowledge. I will translate the tablet as best I can, and give you the knowledge it contains. He believes it is directly related to Dark Star and the Advent. After that I fear you may have far bigger problems then protecting me."

The lack of defining mystic paraphernalia made sense know. The Prophet was trying to keep a low profile.

"Are the Advent on their way now?" Daisuke asks.

"Yes. But they are still a long way away. It will take them at least three sunsets before they arrive. But they will come eventually. I can only prey that the tablet arrives before that. It is the only hope we have of finding the connection between the Advent and Dark Star. And perhaps the only hope we have of defeating them."

"We're going to need a good cover back at home," Takeru says dryly.

"Good luck," Daisuke says.

"Would you be alright? If we left now for our world and came back for the evening?" Hikari asks.

Wizarmon chuckles. "Young one, I have survived on my own for many years. I can easily survive a few hours. The Advent forces are still three days away, your being here by nightfall is both generous and unnecessary.

"Given the severity of the situation we're supposedly in," Iori says. "I think it would be safe to cover all angles."

Wizarmon bows. "The Digital World is, as it was, in your debt. Thank you."

Please read the above note about update schedule. Thank you.