Chapter XXII

The thing about crying is that, once done is long doses, one becomes weak. Dizzy. Tired.

And so, after staring at Bebe's grave long enough to memorise every grain and crumbling bit of rock along the tombstone, Nova lost track of all. At some point, with the moonlight filtering through the cracks along the Lost Tower's walls, she found herself balancing onto Lucas's arms as she stumbled out. At some point, as she was dragged to Solaceon, all of her Pokémon had come parading back to her – every single one of the dozen.

Though she didn't remember doing so, she had ordered them all to travel together to Oreburgh and rest with Frazer the Onix. For the most part, they had obeyed, but there were five that stubbornly clung to her side – Tric the Monferno, Bailey the Staravia, Rhys the Luxio, Leila the Budew, and Owl the Shellos.

And, of course, Livia the Golbat remained by Bebe's grave. Always on guard. Always thinking about the poor gladiator that had soldiered on without her.

Nova didn't remember walking through all the farms. She didn't remember hearing the squeals and snorts of Swinub, or the shrieking of the Psyduck, or the Miltank that mooed quietly in one of the pens. The hay, the little grey houses that dotted the hills, the pools of mud – she didn't remember a single thing.

She didn't even remember Lucas asking one of the farmers if Nova could stay the night with them. She didn't remember them agreeing and helping her change out of her gown and back into the old tunic and britches that Bailey had brought along.

All she remembered was sitting on a bed – one as soft as wool – and facing a small boy and his father while they eyed her and her Pokémon.

"You're a gladiator?" the little boy said, snarling. "You're flimsier than a Shinx's tail."

The words hurt. Not because they were true, but because she had heard someone else describe something else as a Shinx's tail only days ago.

Bebe. About Joy's hair.

"Son," the man was saying, "I told you, don't-"

"Shut yer trap, Father!"

The man flinched back. "Son, please, we've told you: don't talk to people like this. It's impolite."

"It's impolite to throw some wretched girl in my room!"

And though Nova arched her brow as the young lad went so far to kick his father, she didn't say a word. She threw a warning glance to Leila, whose vines were already outstretched, ready to whip the wee lad for hurting his own family.

The man quickly apologised to her for his son's behaviour. Nova shrugged it off.

She didn't want to sleep in this small, dusty room with some spoilt brat. She wanted Lucas. She wanted Barry. She wanted-

Bebe. She wanted Bebe.

The second his father left, the small boy sagged onto his own bed and scowled.

"I hate him," he spat. "He won't let me be a gladiator."

Nova blinked at him. "What?"

"My father. I hate him."

This time, Nova dragged herself off the bed. Raised a threatening finger to his nose. "Listen, lad," she said slowly. "Your father won't let you be a gladiator? Good. It's because he doesn't want you to get hurt."

"Bull-"

"You want to know what my father did? He tried to kill me before I was even born. So I would shut yer trap."

The boy spat onto the floor. "Bitch."

"A bitch with a sword," she shot back.

It was enough to make him shrink back into his covers, but not enough to stop him from muttering, "I hope you die. I hope you and my father rot in the shadows."

And, for once, Nova didn't entirely disagree with him.

When she did dream that night, she had nightmare after nightmare of Bebe.

She dreamt of the small girl swimming in a river, laughing until she was dragged down to the bottom. She dreamt of the small girl wearing armour, running into some gladiator, sword raised, screaming with her ever so delicate voice. She dreamt of the small girl sneaking ale into her glass – ale that was as red as blood.

But when she woke up, sweating and sobbing, she saw that she wasn't the only one.

The boy across from her was twitching in his sleep, a sheen of sweat over his face, mumbling, "Father, no…"

And, above him, was a figure. Dark as shadows. A plume of fog drifting from its head like smoke. A ring of red around its neck. An eye as blue as Nova's own.

A Pokémon…

The shadows rippled around the boy, and he kept whimpering, crying out in his sleep, calling out his father's name.

"Hey!" Nova hissed, frowning as she realised that all of her Pokémon were snoring away. "Leave him!"

"…she awakes…"

And, with those words slipping from the figure, it was moving out of the room as quickly and quietly as a ghost.

Nova took one last glance at her Pokémon. Then, she raced after the shadows.

She found herself in some ruins – crumbling and old, weeds spilling out of the cracks along the walls. And though it was dark, though there was no light falling through the stones, there were little Pokémon – little things called Unown – moving around her, lighting up the rocky cavern with their lights of ice blue and shimmering green and soft pink.

Nova followed them down staircase after staircase, through mural after mural of gold and steel, of trees with fruit and mountains of jewels. She traced the carvings along the walls, frowning as she realised that the shapes were exactly like those of the Pokémon around her, and only stopped once she reached the final floor.

In that room, there was a mirror. No shadow Pokémon, no nightmares, nothing. Not even the Unown followed her down the final staircase.

For a second, Nova nearly laughed.

She was a fool. She had chased after something that she had probably imagined – something that didn't truly exist.

She was going mad. She was sure of it.

Even as she glanced at the mirror, she hardly recognised herself. There was still smudged kohl over her face. There was still crusted blood along her hands. Her eyes were red and swollen and blank.

The only thing that seemed normal was the small bit of ink that she could see when her shirt slid down her shoulder. The ink of Duke Rowan's name, there for anyone to see, scrawled along her back.

She thought about Joy. About what the healer had said to her after reading some bloody note – some bloody note that Nova still didn't know entirely about.

Had it really been her fault?

If she hadn't become a gladiator, she would never have met Bebe. She would never have met Joy. They would be safe in Jubilife, perhaps, in some inn. Laughing. Reading. Planning their next journey to visit their father.

And yet, the nightmares…

Bebe drowning in water. Bebe fighting with a sword. Bebe choking on ale.

As if her death had been inevitable from the beginning…

The images were like wildfire in her mind. She stumbled onto the ground, her breath catching as she felt something cold beneath her fingers, as she felt-

A sword.

It was a beautiful thing. Sharp and clear and new, and yet, not made of steel.

No, it was made of diamond.

Nova raised it in her hand. Considered the ink along her back. Wondering.

She could draw a line straight through the name. She could ruin the stupid brand. Destroy it, like it had destroyed her.

And so, she raised the sword above her head. Angled it slowly. Took a long breath.

And sliced.

But when she drew the sword back into her lap, there was no blood on it, nor was there any pain in her back. Sure enough, as she turned around and glanced back at the mirror, the tattoo was still there. There was no cut, no blood, no nothing. As if she hadn't even touched it.

The sword, though, was no longer clear. No – the blade was rippling and twisting darkness, and as Nova tried to slice a bit of her own finger, it went straight through. Not a single scratch left on her.

It was black as night. Black as shadows. Black as that Pokémon.

"How is it doing that?" she breathed out.

"…when the sword is black, it means there are shadows around it. and shadows can't hurt anyone…"

Nova raised her gaze from the sword and found herself facing that blue eye.

"What?"

"…shadows. nightmares. they can't hurt anyone physically now, can they? but if you try using the sword when there are no shadows…"

The darkness vanished from the sword, leaving it as blue and clear as crystal. Nova pressed it down into her finger and, this time, felt a stab of pain as blood dribbled from the cut.

"…you bleed…"

Nova dropped the sword.

Oh, Arceus.

She had to get out of there. She had to-

"…there's no need to be afraid…"

Nova caught herself as she nearly stepped back, as the shadow Pokémon moved closer to her. "I'm not afraid."

"…there's no need to lie, either, november…"

"You know my name."

"…aye…"

His voice was just a rasp – a mere whisper in her ears. And, finally, Nova understood.

It was Darkrai. The legend. The bearer of nightmares. The Pokémon that parents told their children about when they were misbehaving. Even her mother had used it on her, back when she was a wee little lass.

"Mother! I'm tired of eating bread all the time!"

"If you don't eat all that bread, Darkrai will give you nightmares tonight!"

Nova took a sharp breath.

"Darkrai," she said slowly. "You gave me the nightmares tonight."

"…aye. i did…"

"Why?"

Nova couldn't see a smile, but she could hear the amusement in his voice as he answered, "…why not?..."

"Because they're painful."

"…aye, but they teach you things, do they not?..."

She wanted to argue. She wanted to fight. The nightmares taught her nothing. The nightmares showed her nothing but-

"…nova. it was not your fault. you cannot blame yourself…"

And though Nova had so, so many words to say to that, she only took a step closer to Darkrai.

"Who killed her?"

"…i do not know…"

"How do you not know? You're Darkrai, are you not? The legend?"

"…i can only be so many places at once…"

"Then go to the right fucking places, aye?"

The Darkrai only blinked slowly.

"…well. that was incredibly rude…"

Nova rolled her eyes and kicked at the sword beneath her. "What about the boy? Why would you give him nightmares? Are you teaching him that it's not his fault, too, that Bebe is dead?"

"…don't be ridiculous. i just like hearing little boys scream…"

"What?"

"…i only jest…"

He slowly circled around her, shadows swirling and rippling behind him.

"…you see, november, i feed on people's fear. but i'm not heartless. i like to teach while i feed…"

"Teach?"

"…the boy dreamt of his father dying. multiple times. he saw his father being kicked by a skunktank. he saw his father drowning in a river. he saw his father having his toes bitten off by a buneary…"

Nova frowned. "That's disgusting."

"…i like to keep things interesting…"

"And that's sadistic."

"…indeed. but when the boy wakes up, remembering the many, many deaths of his father…"

He never got to finish. For, in that second, the Unown by the stairs started humming and buzzing and flashing their colourfully dotted lights around. And, only then did Nova hear the footsteps.

"Nova?" a voice called out. "Nova!"

Nova almost considered mouthing a quick thanks to Arceus.

Lucas. Lucas was here.

"…tch. the pest again…"

Nova whirled around and hissed at the Darkrai. "Lucas is not a pest."

"…shocker. what's next? are you going to tell me that you're not a snarky little tart?..."

Then, he was melting into the floor, his shadows sliding down the rocks until-

Nova jerked back as she realised that he was sinking into her shadow – making it darker and inkier and fuller.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"…hiding…"

"In my shadow?"

"…i like to keep things interesting…"

"You're a fuc-"

"Nova? Are you talking to yourself?"

Had it been anyone else, Nova might have been embarrassed to be caught snarling at her own feet. But, with Lucas hovering by the stairs, she didn't give a damn. She just shoved the sword into her belt and stared at him.

The knight, though, didn't approach her. He only waited there, frowning.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

"I'm…"

Nova stopped herself from answering.

For, in that second, she realised that she didn't feel scared anymore. She didn't feel like pissing herself. It was as if the Darkrai in her shadows was eating away her fear, feeding on her worry and grief and terror.

So, instead, she looked closely at Lucas's face. At his red-rimmed eyes. The tear stains down his cheeks.

"Have you been crying?" she asked him, ever so quietly.

"I…"

Nova raised her hand. "Why did you leave me in that inn? Why didn't you let me cry with you?"

"Knights aren't… We're not supposed to cry."

"That's bullshit."

Lucas closed his eyes. "I know."

And, with Darkrai taking away the knots from her stomach and her throat, Nova forced a smile and held out her arms. "Come 'ere, you big ol' snot."

He fell into her arms, his head buried in the crook of her neck, whispering, "She was only a little girl…"

Just like that, Nova felt like she was being lashed with grief. The pain and hurt that Darkrai had so carefully taken away was back, forcing the tears to return to her eyes, forcing her throat to clench as she choked on her sob.

That's when she realised that her shadow was no longer darker than dark. Instead, Darkrai was behind Lucas, watching. Letting her feel the pain again.

And so, Nova let herself feel the pain. Accepted it. Embraced it.

"She was going to change the world," she told Lucas, letting herself squeeze him tighter, letting herself cry into his sleeve. "Once she stopped telling me to quit swearing, she was going to do so much good for Sinnoh."

Both she and Lucas laughed a little at that.

"Tell me about her," the knight said. "How did you meet her?"

For the rest of the night – until the sunrise shone through the cracks along the walls – they sat on the stairs and spoke about Bebe. About her love for swearing. About her ideas. About her terrible attempts to sneak some ale at the ball.

By the end, they were no longer crying. They were smiling. Even laughing. And Darkrai had crept back into Nova's shadow, lurking there silently.

"She also yelled out fuck Queen Cynthia?"

"Yeah. She was the first one to do it after me."

Lucas shook his head, exasperated. "She was a good friend."

"The best," Nova corrected. "She was like a sister."

The knight's face fell for a second – so quick that the gladiator almost missed it.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Lucas shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

"Too late."

"I was just…" There was the slightest of hesitations. Then, with a sigh, Lucas said, "I was thinking about my sister."

"Where is she?"

Another pause. Another sharp breath.

"My sister is with Bebe."

Oh. Oh.

"I'm sorry," Nova said softly. "What happened?"

"My father-"

"Cyrus?"

Lucas blinked back his surprise. "You know of him?"

"I met him," Nova pointed out. "I may have tried to kill him."

He laughed at that. "I wouldn't have held it against you. My father… He likes spells. He grew up with books about them – about summoning legendries and such. He was good at it, too. And he never did anything bad whenever it worked. He just tried it, and if it worked, he let the legendry go instantly. It was like, bloody hell, it was like fishing. But he did it with songs instead of a rod."

"…interesting company he must keep…"

Nova almost jumped as Darkrai spoke. Lucas reached for her, steadying her, asking if she was okay.

"You didn't hear that?" she asked him.

"Hear what?"

"…i don't want the pest to hear me, so of course not…"

Both Nova and Lucas stared at one another. One of them frowning as she heard the voice again, and one of them frowning as he heard absolutely nothing.

"It doesn't matter," Nova quickly said. "Just carry on. Your father. Spells."

Lucas nodded warily, but continued nonetheless, saying, "One day, he thought he was ready to summon Heatran, of all things. My sister always helped him – she loved the songs. But something must have gone wrong, because Heatran never showed up, and the house caught on fire instead. I hadn't been home – I was a messenger lad, and I had been on an errand to Sandgem, and got held up near Twinleaf with some knights. But when I came home, I found that my house in Canalave had been burnt down. My father had been burnt everywhere, but he had survived. My little sister and mother had not. He said he had tried saving them, and I believe him, but still…"

Nova squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry."

With a long, shaking breath, Lucas closed his eyes.

"I thought he would stop the spells after that, but he won't listen. Even now, I know he's trying something else. I wouldn't know – one year later, when Lord Byron let me join his side as a knight, I told my father I never wanted to see him again."

"Can't you arrest him now?" Nova asked. "For everything with the Galactic Healers? The ones that killed Gardenia?"

Lucas glanced down at his feet. "I don't know. I want to. But he is still my father."

They sat there in silence, watching the lights of the Unown, their minds lost in completely different worlds. Both about dead sisters, about fathers they resented.

"Nova," Lucas finally said. "What you feel now about Bebe… it won't get easier. But it will get more normal."

"I don't know if I want it to be normal."

He smiled sadly. "Here. Let me show you something."

And, with a small word of warning, Lucas started to pry open the buttons of his shirt.

"…ah, yes, getting naked. the perfect way to deal with grief…"

Nova nearly told Darkrai to shut up. Nearly.

Lucas turned away from her as his shirt fell to the ground. And the gladiator couldn't help herself – she froze.

Along his back was a tattoo of a Honchkrow – each little feather made from multiple strokes of ink. It took up the entire top half of his back, and on the bottom half, lay three lone feathers – tattooed as if they were drifting their way down to his britches.

"Each feather is a friend I have lost," Lucas said. "Every time a knight died under my watch, I tattooed a feather."

Nova heard the pain in his voice – saw him shiver as she touched the tattoo. "And what about the Honchkrow?"

"That's for my sister and my mother. It was their favourite Pokémon."

There was more silence as Nova traced the tattoo, the feathers, the beak, the talons.

Was that why he had become a knight? So that he could protect those he cared for?

Nova's finger came to a halt as she reached the final, dark feather.

"Can I have one, too?"

Lucas turned around, his brows drawn. "A tattoo?"

"Aye. For Bebe."

"Are you sure?"

"Aye. I'm sure."

Luckily, Lucas was a fine inksman himself. After spending the day buying ink, the pair were back in the farmer's inn, Nova face-down on the bed as he traced the needle into her skin. Leaving behind the tattoo of a gracidea flower for Bebe, and two fallen petals – one for Gardenia, and one for Bebe's father.

It hurt. It hurt like hell.

But, with Darkrai eating away her fear, with Tric the Monferno squeezing her hand as they remembered the last time she had been tattooed…

Nova smiled at her Pokémon, even as she winced through the pain. There was Rhys the Luxio, who looked as if he were ready to bite Lucas's head off every time Nova swore from the pain. There was Tric, squeezing her hand tighter and tighter, growling at Rhys to back off. There was Bailey the Staravia, clumsily trying his best to help, but who had been snapped at by all of them because he kept tipping over the pot of ink. There was Owl the Shellos, the most shy one of them all, and yet the only one who had picked up that there was something not quite right about Nova's shadow – sniffing at it, glancing up at Nova, a question in her eyes.

And, finally, there was Leila the Budew. Watching Lucas and Nova and her companion Pokémon from the corner of the room. Smiling as the gracidea flower was tattooed on.

But, slowly, as the ink kept swiping across Nova's back, the Budew began to glow. Began to evolve.

And Leila the Budew was no longer a Budew, but a Roselia.

For once, everyone else cheered. Even Rhys stopped frowning to give a small, lopsided grin as the Roselia twirled around and around, staring in awe at the roses along her arms. Both Nova and Lucas laughed as Bailey tried to sniff the roses, only to be stunned and paralysed by the flower.

That night, just as Nova was about to sleep, she saw the little boy – the little boy who had sworn at her and kicked his father the night before. She didn't even have to ask about his nightmare; the second his father came to say goodnight, the little boy was on his feet, hugging his father, kissing him on the forehead, promising never to kick him again.

Nova could have sworn that her shadow rippled at the sight of it.

"…i like to keep things interesting…"

With all five of her Pokémon and Lucas somehow curled up on the small bed with her (though, there was sure to be Shellos goop in the knight's mouth by morning), and with Darkrai sighing in her shadows, Nova slept.

And she had no nightmares that night.

After the chaos that was last chapter, I thought I'd give everyone a bit of a breather. Also, Nova needed the breather, too.

Introducing one of the voices, Darkrai. Did I catch a Darkrai in my nuzlocke run? No. Therefore, Nova will not be using Darkrai as one of her team. However, I decided to include him because, well, well, well, well… Well. Darkrai is frowned upon. Nova is frowned upon. That's as much as I can say.

Anyways, it's nearing Christmas! While I can't do Christmas specials (there isn't really a Christmas in Sinnoh because… well, duh), I promise that next week's chapter will be a nice treat. Barry will be back, I promise there won't be any death, and it'll be a happy little break from the rather cruel storyline. I'll let everyone forget the secrets and the blood for just a chapter – because, hey, it is Christmas.

And, better yet, in the first chapter of 2020, we'll hear Nova tell the full story of why she wants to change her name.

Aesthetically pleasing, aye?