It had come to this. His quest, begun after he had conquered the Lily of the Valley Conference nearly six years ago and proven himself a true Master, was in its final hours.
He had scoured the ancient ruins tucked away in Sinnoh's innumerable mountains and valleys. He had forged his way through the unnatural labyrinthe of Mt. Coronet. He had traced every inch of the Necropolis buried beneath Hearthome and spent hundreds of hours poring over dusty old scrolls in the Great Library of Canalave and Celestic Town's hidden lore.
After years of this inane drudgery, of questioning dusty old men and women who cared only to hear their own voices, scanning every inch of these barely-preserved ruins, of spending every day working his team to the bone so that they reach the limits of their strength, he had followed every faded scrap of knowledge to the next until he'd discovered the location of his prize.
It would all be worth it. He would claim true power, and then begin his ascendency. Altomare's secret protectors had been known to the Knights of Uxie for centuries. It had only taken a few useless artifacts and a few well-preserved wax tablets filled with tax records of all things for the old scholars to part with their precious knowledge. Fools. Did they not realize the value of what they knew?
He knew where some of the last Latii hid in the canals of Altomare. The congealed essence of their forefathers, the 'Soul Dew' as the Knights called it, offered the creatures unnatural power. It would be his, and with it he would use them to track greater and greater forces and bend them to his will.
The Regi forged by the God-King had served countless noble families in the centuries after the God-King's dynasty had toppled, exchanging masters as quickly as poison, assassination, and fragile alliances could do their work, yet they had vanished. In his search he had discovered that at least one of the golems had been sealed away far to the south, in the archipelago of Hoenn.
With the power of the Latii, the mightiest psychics in the world, he would seek the Regi out. It would be his.
But for all of this to occur, for his grand aims to be made reality, he needed something that could contain even the Latii. That could break them, if need be.
There were old stories passed around in the mountain villages and the ancient histories of strange, accursed creatures that radiated a darkness so dread they could drive an army to turn upon itself. Men would claw their own eyes out or rip their own brother-in-arms' throats out with their teeth. Others would simply sit and watch as the chaos unfolded. They would not rise to any provocation, and those that survived the bloodbaths would wait, and wait, and wait until they died of dehydration.
Fascinating stories. Perhaps they were merely legends, exaggerated tales meant to scare the superstitious, but he thought that perhaps they held a grain of truth to them. To claim such power…
Alas, he had failed to uncover any hard evidence of the creatures' existence. Destroyed, perhaps, as most relics of the Age of Wonders had been. Perhaps hidden, but if he couldn't find them who could?
Instead, his research had brought him here, to Canalave where his forays into the pursuit of his victory had first begun. The creature hid in the seas to the north according to the assembled cipher he'd discovered scattered near the accursed Sendoff Spring. They didn't dare approach close enough to face his protections, but nightmares still stalked him in the shadows and his dreams after his visit to that foul place.
A small price to pay.
He looked down at the pathetic creature before him. After six years of endless, tedious work and struggle, this man would not stop him in his quest when he was at the cusp of his victory.
"You want to go where?" The small, sniveling man went white as a ghost. His hands clutched the stainless steel railing of his ferry and he thought the sailor might lose his lunch into the easy waves of the ocean lapping against Canalave's docks.
He sneered. "You heard me. A small island far to the north of here, on a similar latitude to Snowpoint."
"No. No. No. No!" The 'man' cried. "I'm not going there! Are you mad?"
"It's a long journey, but I assure you I can pay," his lip curled. He had no time for this. His patience had run out years ago.
The sailor shook his head frantically. Spittle flew from his lips. "I know the island. There are stories! My father sailed those black waters, and his father before him, and I know better."
Did this thing think him a fool? He sighed and pulled the high red collar of his cloak down to reveal the old leather looped around an ethereal, luminescent feather curved like a sickle. It was a stark white at the base, then as it curved the white faded into a pale green. "I know the stories."
His patience fell to new depths when the sailor simply stared wordlessly at the Lunar Wing. "Impossible. That can't be a Lunar Wing... it must be a replica?" The reedy man trailed off.
"It's no replica," he glowered and tucked the Lunar Wing away. "I discovered this artifact in a tomb hidden in the sands of Lake Acuity. It is legitimate."
The sailor trembled. "I don't care if it's taken from the neck of the fucking God-King himself! You won't find passage with me, grave-robber."
He fought the urge to release Tyranitar...she would take all too much pleasure in correcting the man's defiance. "Very well," he spat back. What a crude man. Did he not realize the importance of this task? The vulgar folk should know their place.
It was a hindrance, but not enough to keep him from his goal. He wouldn't wait another moment to seek out his prize. He had spent to long training for this, gathering the most powerful fighters in the world to his side. One sailor shaking in his boots would never suffice to hold him back.
This was the man he had been pointed to in the inn, apparently the only ferry willing to undertake such long journeys. Perhaps he could simply approach other captains. A sufficiently large payment would smooth whatever qualms they might have had.
Yet he couldn't bear the thought of suffering another fool like this one. A ferry had been a convenience. He had proven over the last six years that he didn't need those.
To fly would be faster, regardless. Uncomfortable in the frigid winds of Sinnoh, particularly as he flew hundreds of miles to the northern reaches of the Lunar Sea, but he would suffer it to secure his prize. His red cloak was designed to handle such harsh demands.
But who to take? Dragonite or Salamence?
TRTRTRTR
Five hours later his boots crunched the sand of Newmoon Island.
Otherworldly was the first word to come to mind when he'd spotted it from miles away on Dragonite's back, a dark mass heaped up like a pile of slag which jutted out of the black waves of the Lunar Sea.
Most of the island was shaped from towering spires of basalt that obstinately endured the furious ocean pounding against it. They cast dark shadows which shielded the small forest of firs and pines which clustered atop the island's peak from the faint sunlight during the day. The basalt and the ink-black volcanic sand which draped Newmoon's shores devoured every bit of light that touched it. Were he not as observant as he was, he would have missed it entirely.
In fact, the only reason his attention had been drawn to Newmoon Island was because it stood out so starkly. The Lunar Sea was dark and tempestuous this far to the north and the sun had set hours ago. The ocean had been an abyss void of any light save the twinkling stars high above, and Newmoon Island had remained darker than even the polar night.
He pulled his red cloak tight over his face when he landed near the thin frame of darkened timber which marked an old dock that should have rotted long ago. It was a miracle it had remained standing in this harsh environment. Were the ocean any calmer he knew that great floes of ice would begin to crust its surface.
The cold seeped through his clothing with ease. His lungs burned with each breath and his instincts warned him that he would die in minutes if he progressed any further.
How unsubtle.
He curled his lip at the unseen eyes hidden in the black stone, the specters which no doubt laughed and prodded each other as their petty tricks took effect. The nightmares always did find amusement in driving their betters away. Yet he had seen true horrors in the tunnels of Mt. Coronet. These left him wanting.
With a simple movement his fingers found the Lunar Wing and presented it to his audience. The moment he touched the artifact the chill that penetrated to his bones vanished. Only the natural iciness of the harsh environment, cold stone, and frigid gales that tore through his layers of clothing remained. Acceptable.
Past the coarse sands of the volcanic beach, black towers of stone rested proudly. They were whole and smooth, strange given the environment they existed in. The seaspray and northern winds should have left the stone significantly eroded. Curious.
He ascended the untouched stairs which rose from the dock. They were polished and smooth, though it was difficult to tell their cleanliness due to drinking up all the light that touched them. Beyond that lay a winding path that circled around the black island and which would guide him into the forest. No doubt his quarry hid there.
Blackness lay before him, a blank void hidden within the gate. Whispers came from it, unnatural things like the nightmares which had haunted him since he'd ventured too close to the secret Sendoff Spring. They cried out warnings and bade him to abandon this terrible place. They promised he would find nothing here.
He raised the Lunar Wing and they were silenced. The void receded, and perhaps the stones shone in a more natural light. If he were the scholarly sort, he'd be intrigued. But knowledge was useless if it did not serve him, and such tedious tests were below one of his standing.
The path was filled with the tests of ghosts. They twisted reality into strange illusions of his mother and father and sister that begged him to return home, visions of his team writhing and drenched in shadow, and a madman in his clothing. They tested the last dregs of his patience. Excitement had overshadowed his irritation for a time, but no longer.
Darkness parted before him as he carried the Lunar Wing like a torch. Reality twisted into place around him as the darkness settled and solidified, the illusions broken with ease. Ghosts and their whispers and pleas fled before him.
Those that unveiled themselves in their arrogance and lingered with their subversive efforts were unmade entirely. Gengar melted into clouds of toxic gas that quickly dispersed into the darkness. A Banette reached for him then collapsed into the dark soil of the forest as a lifeless doll. The grasping branches of a Trevenant twitched, then froze forever. A Palossand reverted to a simple pile of sand before it could even emerge fully from the forest floor.
He paid them no mind. He'd never liked the creatures.
The others fled. The illusions remained in the darkness though. Images. Smells. Memories that he did not recognize and some that he did. His father stepped forth from the void which followed him and raised his hands in the way his father had to calm him as a boy. Words began to leave his lips, and Tobias stepped forward with the Lunar Wing.
The imitation of his father faded away into nothing with fear in his eyes.
After an eternity, the darkness coalesced into something truly solid. The hints of trees slipped away entirely. Without the Lunar Wing which banished away the thick shadows he would be drenched fully in them.
He did not fear. Mere tricks would never best the power he held. After he claimed the Lunar Wing he had brought it to Mt. Coronet. It carried him to the deepest crevasses and all but the highest peaks. He had sought those that had stymied him before and unveiled his treasure. Even the strongest ghosts, ancient creatures which counted eons as their breath, had succumbed instantly to his Lunar Wing.
His quarry here was different. The cipher of Sendoff Spring, one of the minimal pieces of the Artificer's work that Calanthia and the Knights of Uxie hadn't managed to recklessly purge, had assured him that the creature would resist the Lunar Wing. It was the creature's antithesis, but this entity was potent beyond a mere ghost.
The Lunar Wing would shield him from the creature's influence. It would provide an impenetrable defense against ghostly powers so his team could face the creature on even ground. He knew it would be mighty, yet its darkness and power would be purged from it. His team would crush it beneath their heel and he would claim his weapon.
Something shifted in the void. His team appeared at his side and readied themselves at his command. Even Metagross, the most sensitive of his team to dark powers, remained stalwart. The Lunar Wing had served its purpose.
Beyond the reach of the Lunar Wing, the darkness roiled like boiling water. Unspeakable things lived within it, his instincts warned. Paradoxes and weeping madness. Things that would snatch him up in their jaws and unmake him mind, body, and soul.. And there were more familiar things too. A vision of a boy out of time, an older man with half his mind, the earth and oceans meeting in a roar, and a red chain.
Yet they did not come for him, and he did not go mad. His tool held true. He remained in reality, not this nexus of what-if's and never-haves and nots.
A voice rang out from the turbulent shadows which he encroached on. It was not human, and it did not pretend to be. No throat could have produced this sound, something between the croak of a Politoed, grating shriek of steel scraping against itself, and the utter silence of an ocean trench. It whispered to him, made not by any physical means but reality itself Distorted.
This will not bring happiness.
He scoffed. "I did not come here to be happy."
He stepped forward and held the Lunar Wing against the darkness. It held, desperate to push him away, yet it had no substance. Darkness was merely an absence. A void. The smallest candle would send it scurrying away.
The darkness gave, and something was unveiled. He had a mere moment to look. Its body was not made of gas or smoke or any other worldly thing - it was simply an absence of light made reality, a solid mass of nothingness which extended from the omnipresent blackness around them. Even the radiant glow of the Lunar Wing could not escape its pull, and he could step no farther. Its 'head' was masked by a flickering collar the color of blood, and then he saw the eyes of what the Artificer called the Pitch-Black.
By the Dragons, the eyes. Luminous and eldritch things, all the more hideous for the void that surrounded them. A paradox. They were rigid and absorbed him. In that gaze he saw an eternity (or was it an instant?) in a realm without space or time or reality and the shock of entering a plane with both. To be carved away from itself, to be a little bit of insanity in a world of sickeningly stability.
His mouth fell open at the abominable sight, at the filtered version of this nameless thing the light of the Lunar Wing provided, and he could speak no more. The Pitch-Black did not twitch. The voices returned, his own voice predominant among the chorus, and pled for him to run far, far away from this place and put it out of his mind. To fly away to an island not far from here, a place of light and time and space, and seek purification.
Rationality returned to him.
He would never abandon his quest. He was born for greatness, and he would change the world.
He took a step forward, his team in his wake, and the Pitch-Black raised one spectral claw. He thought there was something horribly sympathetic in its ghastly stare, and then the protective light of the Lunar Wing flickered, held for an instant, and went black underneath the inexorable weight of the Pitch-Black's will.
Darkness rushed in. The light was extinguished.
His team screamed. He thought he might have too.
The Pitch-Black's presence touched them.
Tobias was no more.
The Nightmare began.
A/N: And there you have it! I hope everyone enjoyed the new Recollections chapter. I'm hoping to publish one more before I release the next chapter of Traveler. I've mostly finished replying to reviews and PMs, so if you haven't gotten a response yet you will within the next few days!
I had a lot of fun writing this. Tobias' fate is something I've had in my head for a long time and it was a lot of fun showing how he became the madman we saw in Traveler. I'm really excited for him to become a recurring character (although he won't show up again for a fair amount of time). Also, I hope everyone enjoyed the hints of Sinnoh I gave! It's always been one of my favorite regions and I'm really looking forward to developing it further.
Thanks for reading, and please review!