Epilogue

December 22nd 2009

Grey clouds hung low and heavy over Sunyshore City. Winter held Sinnoh in its frosty grip, and even the sunniest part of the region could not escape the unwelcome cold. Snow dusted the streets and the tops of the rock pillars, and icy wind blew in from the sea, seeping into every crack and crevice it could find. Holiday decorations hanging limply over store fronts and between lampposts in an attempt to inject the town with festive spirit, but few were up to braving the weather and the attempt was in vain: the streets were silent and empty, not a single soul was stirring.

Except for one.

Cynthia had been worried that the beachside promenade would be overrun with holiday shoppers, but when Altaria landed, she would be forgiven for thinking the city was abandoned. The Champion paused, surveying the empty street for any signs she had been seen, before slipping gracefully off Altaria's back. She shivered as she stepped onto the concrete, the silence creeping under her skin in a way the cold could not. The emptiness, the quiet; it was as though the city was telling Cynthia she was not welcome, that she had left her return much too late.

Casting her gaze across the unsettling scene one final time, Cynthia turned and smiled in gratitude to Altaria, who beamed brightly back. The Humming Pokémon stretched, and Cynthia noticed painfully the stiffness with which she moved; she's getting old, she thought miserably, and noticed how grey Altaria's once pearly white feathers looked against the dull backdrop of winter.

Now isn't the time to think of that. Cynthia withdrew her old friend and pushed her worries aside for now. Tiring Altaria out with trips like this was foolish, but Cynthia did not want to make a scene arriving in Glory, and flying in on Braviary's back just didn't feel right, not when she was returning here after so many years…

The shock of the almost dystopian environment she arrived in behind her, the gravity of what was happening finally began to sink in: I'm back, I'm finally back. Cynthia stood for a moment, looking past the emptiness and gazing at the many old sights unchanged by the years; there was the beach she had once battled on, the golden sand turned brown by the cold; the harbour full of boats, bobbing ghostly on the churning water there was Kyorge's Cabin, where she had once eaten with…

I'm going to be late. Without another thought, Cynthia turned away from the seaside cafes and marched along the main street. She quickly found herself encased by the natural skyscrapers that loomed above the city. Over the years, Cynthia had always reflected on them with a touch of fear, remembering how intimidating and different these pillars of stone had seemed to her as a child. But now, in the cold grey light of winter, she saw disappointingly how tired and worn the city's greatest feature looked: the stone walls had been weathered by age, looking as thin and cracked as the face of an old man, once glorious browns and greys now sullen and colourless.

Cynthia walked past the pillars in silence. The wind roared between the rock towers, and Cynthia pulled her black coat tightly around herself. She regretted leaving her hair dangling down, as it danced around her face as though trying to smother her. Asides from the weather, the only sound she heard was her heels echoing as they rapped against the road. She could not remember Sunyshore ever being this quiet during the day, only when she had arrived that morning so many years ago had Cynthia found the city quiet as though waiting for a storm to strike. The longer she walked through the city, the more the silence unsettled her; this was a city that was still alive and colourful in all her memories of it, and returning to a ghost town was a further blow to Cynthia's confidence as to how this day would pan out.

Lost in her memories and hopes, Cynthia continued along the road not paying attention to where she was going, and was startled when the rock pillars suddenly disappeared, and for the first time in twenty five years, she found herself in The Square.

What struck her was how little it had changed. The buildings were all in the same locations, and looked no different except for the decorations hanging limply over their doors and windows. The most significant change was that all the paving stones were covered with solar panels that powered the city and the surrounding routes, but asides from that, it was like stepping back into a memory. Cynthia could have been standing here twenty four years earlier as a little girl, alone amongst the crowds of tourists, marvelling at all the strange new sights and sounds and sensations. It was strange, having spent so much of the last few decades repressing and ignoring these time in her life, to be back her and find happiness amongst all the guilt. Cynthia indulged herself for a few moments, thinking of the meals she had had here, remembering the day the tournament had begun, the warm and pleasant evenings…

But then she saw the library.

Her heart sank, the joy vanishing as fast as it had arrived. They had rebuilt it in the same vein as the one she had helped destroy; three stories, stone walls, stone Luxray guarding the entrance on either side. A tinted glass room looked dark and serious over the square below. Why would you replace the stained glass, it had been so beautiful, Cynthia thought, staring at this crude, hideous stain seeping across her memory. The beauty, her happiness, her joy had all vanished, and now the real memories were rushing through her: fire, screaming, threatening, pleading, tricking, burning, tears…. Cynthia found herself walking towards the library, compelled by all that was returning to her. She could see the steps, the open doors, the shelves of books within. Maybe, maybe if she returned to where it had happened, maybe then…

No… not yet… Cynthia froze, looking at the library as though seeing it for the first time, and she stepped backwards in disgust. Horrified with herself, she turned and walked briskly away, the sound of her heels on the panels echoing inside the silent space. Roserade's appeared before her, and Cynthia marched inside, walking past confused staff and sank into a booth in the far corner before anyone stopped her. As soon as she was seated, Cynthia realised how fast her heart was beating, the organ pounding against her ribs as though begging to break free.

Compose yourself, control yourself… breathe… breathe! Cynthia clutched the table, trying to steady herself, and she shut her eyes, doing her best to block everyone out. She knew there was no stopping it though: all the things that haunted her at night, all the thoughts and memories she did her best to repress, there was no avoiding them now, not after everything she had heard, not now that she had returned to where it all began. She knew she should not be surprised: she had spent years rebuilding herself, putting up the barriers between Cynthia the Champion and Cynthia Carter, building so many walls between the past and the present that they were bound to fall down one day. All she could do now was breathe and hope and get a grip on herself, stop herself before she tumbled back into the darkness she had struggled so hard to crawl out from.

Footsteps. Cynthia looked up, fretful of who might be approaching her, but jumped to her feet when she realised who it was. She had not seen him up close for many years now: shaggy blonde hair the colour of mustard, tight black trousers, thick navy jacket, a face that remained handsome even as its features screamed of reluctance and suspicion. Cynthia's heart sank, realising instantly that even though he had finally agreed to this meeting, Volkner did not want to be here; still, even after so much time, still he did not want to talk to her…

"Hello."

"Hi."

The two stared at each other. Neither moved. Neither spoke. They had done this a lot over the years. Her role as Champion and his as gym leader regularly put them in the same room as each other. At these events, manners required them to say Hello, but their conversations rarely passed thirty seconds before Volkner moved away, the anger and betrayal lingering despite the decades.

Standing opposite him now, Cynthia's mind went back, as it regularly did when it came to him, to Volkner's finest hour. She was Champion, watching the quarter finals with Lucien on one side and Bertha on the other. The 1990 Sinnoh Pokémon League Championship had been her second, but her first after winning, her first after defeating Winston Diamond and claiming the Championship for herself. She had been excited, having been looking forward to the tournament all year, but the cruelness of that one battle ruined it all.

Volkner and Flint. They never should have faced each other, but it had been unavoidable that they would. Yet in the quarter finals, with still two rounds left, had been too early. Many commentators had accused the League of rigging it so that there was a better chance of other trainers making it to the finals, but Cynthia knew they would not do that; she would never have condoned seeing the two people whose lives she had crushed face off like this, so publicly, so viciously.

The two set the record for the longest quarter final battle in history. Cynthia watched for ninety minutes straight, when the two were down to just one Pokémon each, Infernape facing Electivire, when she knew she could not watch any longer. She was meant to be impartial, to not care who went through, but when it became clear that Electivire would fall first, the victim of a lose, Cynthia could not bear watching Volkner lose and had left under a stream of photographer's bulbs and irritable shouts from her staff.

Volkner's loss paved the way for Flint to claim the title. Many had argued that Volkner was a better trainer, but it was Flint who Cynthia had to face in the final battle. Then, she had been glad it wasn't Volkner, pleased to not have to choose between guiltily forfeiting and the future of her career. Flint fought well, taking down Kingdra, Glaceon and Togekiss, but then Garchomp had swept his team, effortlessly tearing them apart in a way Cynthia had not seen in him since (she hated to admit it, but he was aging too – last year's tournament battle had left him heavily scarred from a Hydreigon, and Lucien had warned Cynthia her Championship would be lost if she relied too heavily on him again.)

In the end though, Flint had gotten the glory of winning, his popularity quickly earning him the Oreburgh Gym, while Volkner was left to wallow in Sunyshore. It was another six years before the elderly gym leader, a man so vague and dull Cynthia could never remember his name, retired, and she recommended Volkner despite a wealth of more known candidates putting their names forward. Surprisingly, he had accepted, and Cynthia had hoped it would be the first step in a long overdue apology, but Volkner had never thanked her in the following thirteen years, and had ignored every invitation to meet privately.

Until now.

They could not put it off any longer. There was no denying they had tried, but in the mess that emerged from the ruins in Johto, it became clear that another threat was not far off. Whispers had crept throughout Sinnoh since then, of a new group rising up. Those in the know were aware of who this was, of who was finally making himself known after so many years. It was clear Volkner did not want to see her, but Cynthia knew that his stewing, twenty year old hatred would come second to news on Viktor.

"Sit, please," Cynthia said finally, gesturing at the opposite booth. Volkner nodded and lowered into his seat. As he did, a timid waitress brought them a jug of water and glasses. Cynthia smiled awkwardly at her, and the girl nodded and walked away, leaving the two alone in awkward silence. Tension hovered over the table, neither too sure quite what to say or how to bring up the subject they were here to discuss, and Cynthia desperately searched her brain for something to talk about.

"Peter and Joan well?" Idiot! She regretted this instantly, but kept her features calm while Volkner took a long sip of water, clearly wondering why she had raised this topic.

"They are fine," he said eventually. "Aging, obviously. They were already old when they became our guardians, and after everything that happened…" A pause. The tension grew. Cynthia looked down at the menu, taking in nothing but shame. Volkner coughed quietly. "Well, you can imagine what that did… I haven't told them anything that I have heard. They still ask, sometimes, expecting me to have contacts. I do, but I don't tell them that. If they knew the truth…" Another moment passed. Cynthia wished she had never suggested this. "How is your family? Going home for the holidays?"

"Probably, I haven't decided yet." Cynthia smirked and braved a brief glance up as a mutual memory surfaced. "You know how insufferable Palmer can be: you remember the party after the '98 tournament, don't you?" Volkner paused for a second, and then his face spread into a striking smile, and he let out a laugh that filled the restaurant.

"You mean when he got drunk and flirted with Argenta while your sister stood next to them?" He asked, and Cynthia nodded, cracking up herself. "Every time we see her, Flint always brings that up. 'So, sweetie, I know you're a master of every type, but has anyone ever told you –

"'- I'm a master of quite a few things myself'," Cynthia finished, and the two laughed harder. "Well, imagine how he gets when it's his own home. Caroline invited me, of course, and our grandmother as well, but she hates Palmer more than me – shaggy haired twat, she called him one year. What my stupid sister saw in him I will never know."

"We can't help who we fall in love with, I guess," Volkner said with a shrug. His words hovered, and it was a moment before he realised what he had said. The laughter died instantly. Cynthia felt her entire body tense up, guilt staring her right in the face now. They sat in silence for several minutes, simply sipping at their water and thinking of how best to move on. Cynthia wanted to keep the pleasantries going, to delay the inevitable as long as she could, but the longer they sat there not speaking, the more she knew there could be no avoiding it.

"What's the latest?" Volkner asked grimly and finally, and all hope shattered. They had crossed the line now: there was no going back. Cynthia hastily took a gulp of water, preparing herself for the wounds she was about to reopen. She knew it was necessary, she knew it was unavoidable, she knew she had to confront this now before it was too late, but thinking about him, thinking about Viktor… it simply hurt too much.

"The International Police has been searching for tracts of land that could be being used to house an army," Cynthia explained, launching herself straight into the pain. "After weeks of no luck, a few days ago someone thought of searching for properties brought under the name of Diana Dieter. No one had considered Minerva would steal her dead sister's identity before, but the gamble paid off." Cynthia reached into her coat and pulled out a folder, from which she withdrew a number of aerial photos. "This is an old farm north of Veilstone City, purchased using Diana's details three years ago. You can see a number of prefabricated buildings we believe are housing the beginnings of an army, as well as a central building about five or six storeys high, possibly a training compound. We want to get closer and confirm this is him, but you can make out here," she said, pointing at a small clearing, "a guards station, and there are a number of cylinders we believe might be gas or fuel tanks rigged to explode. Given how readily Viktor wanted to kill people back in 1985, it would not surprise me that he would be prepared to kill his army if we threatened his plans."

Volkner nodded as Cynthia recited the facts, and she wondered what was going through his mind. How was he reacting to the news of Viktor's descent into darkness? Had he spent the last twenty years expecting this day to come, or had he too tried to deny it, tried to ignore everything that had happened that night…

"So a raid is out of the question? What about by air?"

"Even if you, me, all the gym leaders from every region and all twenty Elite Four and their champions stormed the compound, there is no way of knowing what will be waiting for us on the inside. There have not done anything more than steal Pokémon, rob the odd laboratory and there are several unsolved thefts that may be connected to them, but there is nothing to suggest what they are actually planning."

"But do we know it's him?" Volkner asked. Cynthia paused, not looking up, forcing herself to stare intently at the photos: the urgency, the fear in his voice was obvious, and she knew now why he had come. It was not for her, it was not for the safety of the region: he needed proof, he needed the truth… he needed to know for certain as much as she did.

"Yes, we believe so," Cynthia replied quietly. She pulled out another photo from her folder. It was not the best quality, having been enlarged multiple times, but you could still clearly see a man with blue-green hair standing in front of a group of white clad soldiers, his head raised slightly as though he knew who was watching him. "This was taken two days ago, right before I called you. This matches every other photo we have collected of him over the past ten years, and the hair and dress matches evidence collected by the International Police. We have also matched up an artist's representation with photos of him and his father, and there are enough facial similarities to indicate – "

"Just stop." Cynthia fell silent. Volkner was clutching the table as he stared angrily down at the photos, his fingers turning white the longer he gripped. For a moment, Cynthia considered reaching out, to try and comfort him in some way, but a second passed and Volkner looked up, his eyes so fill of pain yet flowing with hatred as well that the fanciful idea quickly passed.

"Is there any indication as to what he might be doing?"

"There are suspicions. In the… in the library, he spoke of riding the world of injustice, of exposing the truth and punishing those that hid it. However, he has done nothing since then to achieve these goals. The Adamant and Lustrous Orbs are under close watch, but he has never tried to go for them. Sources have merely told us that he is building towards striking next year, and after everything that has happened in the other regions, the League wants to ensure nothing like that can happen here."

Volkner nodded, and silence fell again. Cynthia could see some of the wait staff watching them from behind the counter, and she imagined what they were whispering to each other, what they would say to their friends and families when they got home, recounting the juicy story about the Champion and the gym leader. She almost felt sick with herself for letting the possibility of gossip hurt her; you're the Champion, for crying out loud, why let them bother you – why let any of this bother you! You have known for years that this day would come; you should have been prepared, you have been waiting long enough for all this to be over with.

"I have one last question." Cynthia snapped out of her thoughts and turned back to Volkner. He had straightened up in his seat, the photos going ignored as he fixed his hateful eyes on Cynthia. "I already had my suspicions about all of this. Only part of the reason I came today was to have it confirmed. I can see now that Viktor has become some megalomaniac psychopath. Maybe if you had told me this years ago, I might have thought you were lying, I probably would have denied everything. But I have grown up since then, and there is no denying that something snapped inside of him a long time ago, and the same Viktor I once knew is not the same person that wants to destroy the world. It is devastating to know I may have played a part in pushing him over the edge – lord knows I could have been nicer to him, or stopped Flint being so cruel – but that does not change anything, nor does it forgive him for whatever he has done or whatever he does next. He turned into a monster that night, and while it shocked me at the time, he has done nothing to change the situation, so I must simply move on and do my best to stop him." Cynthia felt a tear brewing up; everything Volkner said was crushing to hear, simply as it was her thoughts being said aloud. He spoke with such definitiveness, such finality that it was clear the gym leader was ready for battle. She remembered the pain with which she had watched him fight his best friend nineteen years ago, and knew that would be nothing in comparison to watching Volkner and Viktor face off, knowing what she had done to destroy their family.

"All that remains to know is; if he tries to tear our world apart, if you have to do whatever is necessary to stop him and save everyone – can you really do it?"

Cynthia felt her heart stop. "What… what do you mean?"

"You bloody well what I mean," Volkner hissed. "Even if Viktor was unstable when you met him, even if those orbs played with his mind, you know that part of the fault lies with you. I came here today because I want to know if you have accepted this, and I want to know if our great and glorious Champion, the person tasked with protecting our region from all who attack it, I want to know that she is capable of killing the monster she created."

For a second, Cynthia wanted to feel hurt. Every word spewing from Volkner's mouth had felt like a blow to the stomach, each syllable perfectly chosen to hurt her, to beat her, to tear apart everything she believed in in herself. Cynthia was breathless and disgusted to think of the level of contempt Volkner held her in, struggled to fathom just how pitifully and cruelly he saw her. Was this really how people saw her? Volkner, Flint, Arnold, her grandmother – did they see her as this pathetic creature unable to cope with the cruelness she caused as a child, so weak that she would let the mistakes of the past rule her forever?

But then she simply got angry.

"You think I don't feel horrible about what happened to Viktor?" Cynthia snapped. "You think I don't wake up every morning and remember what I did to him? Not a single day has gone by since I woke up in hospital where I have not at least once thought about everything that happened that summer." Ignoring the stunned eyes of the restaurant staff, Cynthia reached inside her cloak, and Volkner reared back as she pulled out two daggers and slammed them into the table.

"These daggers belonged to a trainer who lived a century ago, one of the first people to ever tame a wild Pokémon. The Diamond Estate brought them from his family upon his death, and Winston Diamond brought them to the League when he became Champion. He had them displayed as a symbol of the determination we humans possess, and the struggle that humanity and Pokémon went through before they learnt to live side-by-side. But ever since I picked these daggers up, ever since I threatened my grandmother with them, and ever since I found this one impaled through Feebas," Cynthia yelled, brandishing one of the weapons in Volkner's face, "they have held a different meaning to me.

"I don't need a physical reminder about what happened, the memories are so firmly planted in my head that I will never forget them no matter how hard I have tried. Yet I have worn these on my hip ever since I became Champion, and I still look at them every day, to remind myself of the innocent lives that have already been hurt by my actions, and so I consider the millions more that could be harmed when the devil I created finally strikes. And I wear them because I know that it is my duty, both as Champion and as the person who started this nightmare, I know that I have to be the one to end it. So yes, Volkner, to answer your question, if I do see come across Team Galactic, I will look at their ruler not as Viktor Fischer, the innocent, lonely little boy who I manipulated, but as Cyrus, the monster who brew from my own hatred and anger at the world, a monster who threatens everything I now stand for, and I will kill him if it is the last thing I ever do."

Silence followed her words. Cynthia was breathing deeply, feeling as though she had just run a mile, but she also felt the lightest she had ever felt in years. Volkner sat quietly opposite her, the anger fading from his eyes, and he simply looked down at the photo of his cousin.

"A year into my championship, my grandmother came to see me." She was not sure why she was telling him this, but Cynthia felt the need to, one final thing she had to get off her chest. "It was the first time Carolina had visited, and I wondered why she had come. We sat down in my office, and she said that after someone was Champion for more than a year, they were told an important secret about our world. Carolina said she had requested to tell me it, because it was the same secret I had tried so desperately to learn all those years ago. She told me about an expedition to Mount Coronet in 1945, she told me about how the encyclopaedia was discovered. She talked non-stop for nearly an hour, all about Dialga and Palkia, about different dimensions, different worlds, the many things Charlotte had predicted and had warned them about. And when she finished, all I could do was laugh. I laughed because everything she told me was something no twelve year old should ever find out about the world – hell, I had nightmares about it for weeks afterwards, unable to get all that information out of my head. But I just laughed because she had been right all along; I never should have found out what it all meant, and if I had not tried so hard to rebel against Carolina and her rules, then maybe we would not be in this mess."

"Has Carolina ever forgiven you?"

"No, and she never will. She loves me and cares for me, I can see that now, and maybe we might have had a relationship if I had simply stayed in Celestic Town. All I really wanted was her attention and it turns out she cared for me all along, but everything I did has ensured she never will be able to look at me the same way again."

There was nothing more to be said. Cynthia would have liked to talk a bit longer, but her answer had clearly stunned Volkner into a brooding silence, and the only thing they could do now was part ways. Stepping out into the cold light of the winter-struck Sunyshore, Cynthia spread her arms open, expecting to be shunned, but a reluctant Volkner moved in, and for a few seconds they remained in each other's embrace, thinking about all that had been said and all that was left to do.

"I'm sorry, for everything," Cynthia whispered as they broke apart.

"I know," Volkner replied simply, and he walked back towards his gym. Cynthia watched him leave, brushing aside a single tear as it fell down her cheek. She had hoped to restart a once promising friendship, but that had always been a longshot, and there could be no denying that her actions from long ago would remain a permanent stain on Volkner's childhood. Still, we exchanged more than three words…

Sighing, Cynthia turned and found herself staring at the library again. Those old memories boiled back up inside of her, but she had no place for them anymore. She had spent too many years fearing the past, trying too hard to forget everything that she had not savoured the present. She could hardly even fathom how reluctantly and nervously she had come here to this meeting; sure, it had been painful, but that was only because she had held back these feelings for so long.

One down, one to go, Cynthia thought. She looked at the library for a few more minutes, stroking the dagger handles with her finger, thinking about what was going to come next. Then, contently, she turned and walked back to the dock.

One day… one day soon…

He had had the cameras installed years ago. He would never have done it himself; there was no way he could or would ever return there, not after all that had happened. It was painful now to even see the city on a screen, but it had to be done.

He had known that this day would come. He had waited, waited long enough. He had thought and hoped it would happen sooner, so that he could have spent less time staring at these screens, wondering if his thoughts would ever come true.

Finally, just when he had begun to give up hope, it had occurred. He watched as she arrived in The Square, he watched her look across at the library (does it make you squirm to be back, to see what you changed, what you did? Does it make your squirm to think you nearly died there, that I would have let you burn burn burn burnburnburnburnburn), and he watched as she entered into the café. The Other arrived soon after, as he knew he would, but it was barely an hour before the two emerged again. He leaned forward then, waiting, watching, waiting, staring, waiting, hoping….

They hugged.

Cyrus sat back in his chair and sighed.

Twenty five years he had waited. He had waited for some sign that his suspicions had been correct all along. Even now, he had hoped that Cynthia would come and find him first, that she would track him down and make him talk to her. But alas, she had gone for Volkner first.

He watched the two break apart, he watched them part ways, he saw her look at the library, and finally watched as she walked away into the cold. The Square was empty, not even a plastic bag caught in the breeze disturbing the unmoving box. Cyrus reached out and brushed his fingers across the projection of the library, frowning at the ugliness with which they had replaced the mosaic his Gyarados had shattered.

Cyrus stood. He could not look upon the image any more. There was no point anyway: he had confirmed what he had always known. Part of him ached, wounded even after all this time to know he had always been second in her eyes, in the knowledge that her love for Volkner surpassed any affection she may have felt for him.

Castform's cage stood before him. He paused. Tubes and wires filled the space unoccupied by his long unconscious Pokémon. Scars from the surgeries that had healed his burns had turned Castform red and silver, but all that effort had not fixed his brain. Cyrus placed his hand on the case, staring into the sleeping face, wondering when those eyes would finally open again.

How could I have ever loved the person that did this to you?

His footsteps echoed inside the cavernous room. Cyrus walked through the rows of stored equipment, of weaponry and devices piled high in boxes, of captured and stolen Pokémon housed in glass capsules until they would be used. The power, the viciousness, the magnitude of it all. The plans were all in motion: he would have struck next week no matter what the cameras showed him, but now Cyrus had the truth, now his reasons were stronger, and now there would be no holding back when he faced the Champion again.

One day… one day soon… I will end you, just as you ended me…

There we have it, the end. I am very pleased with how this story has turned out, and I hope that you have all enjoyed reading it. It may have taken much longer than I intended, but I don't think I could have told Viktor/Cyrus and Cynthia's story as well if it had not dragged on till now. Thank you for all those who have read, reviewed and liked this story. As you may have worked out, it is a prequel to Galactic, a considerably different and much longer, denser story. If you wish to see how Cynthia and Viktor's tale truly wraps up, you can continue there (note that it requires some editing to line up better with this), but if you don't, I think that these last two chapters conclude things quite nicely. Thank you once more for following their story to the end - I hope I did not disappoint.