"Please take a seat, Champion Cynthia."

"Okay." It did cross her mind briefly, how he still used her title. But he's talking to me again. That's definitely an improvement.

There's just the floor, so she opts for the bed instead. Those archaic springs creak under her weight, the metal prickling into her skin. The memory of a bedridden Cyrus flashes across her eyes. Of howling storms, ghastly faces… of how a hand on the forehead almost scalded her skin…

The windows are open, crisp forest air permeating the layer of dust. Soft sunlight trickling through cracks in the walls. The pianist's fingers dancing against notebook spines as his lips part in silent recital.

And her mind wanders back. Back to that little library in that ugly yellow house. When the waves would roll, the salinity mingling with chicken soup… the girl would listen intently as the boy breathed lives into unmoving letters.

Looking back at it now, she wasn't paying attention to the stories themselves, but rather…

"What are you looking for, Cyrus?"

"I think it was grey… or was it black…?" Cyrus plucks out a red notebook, squinting as he leafs through the pages. "Ah. It was the grey one."

"Um… Cyrus?"

"Here we are." Cyrus presents Cynthia with the obviously red notebook.

"Um… thanks. Wow. You've been busy, eh, Cyrus?"

"All I do is lay around." Cyrus parks himself behind the boundary, but he's still close enough so they can share notes. She looks up after a minute, curious as to why there's silence.

When was the last time he slept?

Cynthia casually scoots closer with the notebook. He inches back. "It's… been a while, hasn't it? Since we've spoken like this." She musters a small smile. "Remember how you used to tell stories—"

"Focus." His monotone is back. "The first page. Read it."

"O-Okay…" Sorry…

Cyrus exhales softly, straightens, and tilts his head so his gaze falls on the cave of her chin. "This is a reduplication of my observations regarding the extraction of energy from Treeshroud Forest's Time Gear." A quick, quiet breath. "Now, this particular node. As you can see, the energy level was off the charts, and I do mean that quite literally—"

Cyrus cuts himself short when he sees her expression. "I… I digress. My apologizes, Champion Cynthia. In short, one Time Gear—despite it being smaller than my palm—contains more energy than the entire electrical grid of Sinnoh combined. I daresay that it greatly exceeds the amount that can be humanly generated in an one lifetime…

"With that much energy, I can destroy all three lakes, vaporizing them beyond recognition." Cyrus folds his hand over his lap. She scowls at him, and his lips tug gently. "Not to mention cities. Now, that's just with one Time Gear. Do you know what will happen if I am to collect all five?"

Those words choke in her throat. "The Planet's Paralysis."

Cyrus nods approvingly. "Correct, Champion Cynthia. The clock will stop if all its gears are displaced. And once I stop time, then I'm free to rewrite the order of the universe."

"Cyrus!" she hisses. He regards her with vacant eyes, his lips still pressed in that disheartened smile.

But then the air changes. "A lot of things weren't adding up," he tells her, and everything irrelevant recedes into the background. Cyrus presents some old newspaper clippings. "Three months prior to my crime, a peculiar incident transpired at the Valley Windworks. For one whole minute, the wind turbines ceased to function. Officials dismissed the case as electrical failure, but the owner said…"

"That the winds stopped blowing," Cynthia finishes in a hushed whisper. "As if someone had pressed the pause button on a camcorder…"

"And then this. One month later, there were concerns of an increase in wild Pokemon attacks, not to mention abnormal patterns in the Pokemon population. A sharp decrease in Combee honey production, for instance. Empty hives were found throughout the region, seemingly abandoned… The Starly stopped migrating west, 40% of the Great Marsh's Pokemon seemingly disappearing overnight… Add that to grim reports of Pokemon washing up on the shoreline…

"And the final piece: the rise in petty crime. Theft, break-ins… Do you recall the incident with Snowpoint City's famous Clock Tower, Champion Cynthia? Vandalism. The brute punched the clock face, ripped the hands out of their sockets. Similar reports in Eterna, Hearthomre… all involving clockwork…"

"And Celestic Town," Cynthia murmurs. "Grandma told me about a drifter who attempted to deface the fresco in front of the ruins…" She looks at him. "They're all connected, aren't they, Cyrus?"

Cyrus gives her a particular look. As if he's waiting for her to slap him, to call him a crazy freak, to haul his ass out the window to the jeering mob and eager police.

Instead, Cynthia simply sits and waits.

"Do you remember this, Champion Cynthia?" Her heart collapses upon seeing that edition. "'The Fall of the Evil Galactic Empire,'" he says with a chuckle. "Now, here's the link that doesn't fit. When I stole that Time Gear, time didn't stop right away."

Cynthia's jaw drops. Cyrus clears his throat. "The forest… was still alive," he mutters. "The wind still blew as I held that relic in my hands. It was only after I returned to Veilstone when news caught up on the incident. In other words, time stopped five to ten minutes only after my departure."

His face darkens. "Doesn't that strike you as odd, Champion Cynthia? Time should have stopped immediately when the Time Gear was removed." Cyrus tilts his head. "And something very similar happened not long ago as well."

"Mystifying Forest." Her toes are tingling. She can hear her heartbeat in her skull. "But… the exact opposite happened there…"

"Very observant, Champion Cynthia. For Treeshroud Forest, time kept flowing, at least for a fleeting moment. However, in Mystifying Forest, time stopped even with the presence of the Time Gear."

Cyrus pauses so her brain can catch up. "At Crystal Cave… where Mesprit dwelled, time flowed normally while the Time Gear was present. What of Foggy Forest?"

Arceus, how long had that been? "Time was flowing normally, Cyrus."

Cyrus absorbs that with a slight frown. He turns to the windows. She follows his gaze to the clear blue skies, to the breeze that grazes his silvery hair.

Then he sighs. "It's only a matter of time, I'd say." She stares back, and he offers a faint smile. "However, now we're certain of two things: the flow of time appears to be isolated from the existence of the Time Gears. Consequently… we've been approaching this the wrong way."

Cyrus hands Cynthia another notebook. This one has pictures. He must've spent hours tracing these.

"That's Dialga." The name rushes out in a breathless whisper. She hears the crinkling of cracked lips.

"According to the legends, time began to flow when Dialga was born." Cyrus closes his eyes, his hardened features softening. He could've been by the beach, listening to the crashing waves at dusk. "The beat of its heart matches the flow of time. It has the ability to travel to the past and future…

"And do you know of the one beside Dialga?"

Cynthia exhales through her teeth. "That's… Palkia, Spatial Pokemon, the counterpart to Dialga. It's said that every breath Palkia takes stabilizes space, and thus it can control space and travel to far-off places and alternate dimensions."

Cyrus raises a brow. He gestures for her to turn the page.

"Their pictures were on the wall fresco at the entrance of Celestial Ruins." Then it hits her. "Oh, and at Eterna City too!" Cyrus is nodding, waiting for the puzzle's completion. "Wait, Cyrus, that statue… it depicted both of them… Why would they be combined? Is this related in any way…?"

Cyrus wheels to the corner, where he picks up a tattered tome. It's the library book she retrieved for him. The one he specifically requested.

"'Once upon a time, the sun turned black, and the moon fell down to earth.'" His tone is flat as he flips through the yellowed pages. "The very world as our ancestors knew was falling apart before their very eyes. The seas stopped moving. The wind stopped blowing. Life just… discontinued."

"'The Dark Day of Humanity,'" Cynthia finishes. Cyrus's eyes widen. "That's… that's the mythos behind The Cataclysm of Sinnoh, the book that you're holding. Grandma would use that story to scare me into staying home."

Cyrus opens his mouth. But whatever he was about to say is reduced to a nod. "And… and what happened in the story, Cy—Champion Cynthia?"

"The… The two Pokemon were battling, Cyrus." She looks straight into his bright eyes. "Every millennium, Dialga and Palkia would emerge from their respective domains in a battle for balance. Something with the alignment of the sun and moon… opening a pathway between the fabrics of space and time…

"A-And as soon as the two legendries started battling, time and space began to wrap around them! Time continued to wind back and repeat itself, and the distance between objects was becoming unclear!"

Cyrus had been staring at her rather intently, with a hand under his chin, his back angled to her direction. Then once he realizes that she had finished talking, he yanks himself back to his side of the boundary.

"It's possible…" Cyrus clears his throat. Averts his gaze. "It's possible that the people who made the statue… saw the two legends inside a distortion of space and time."

Cynthia blinks. Cyrus continues. "There was no victor to that battle, as it had been for thousands of eons. Both sides exhausted themselves and returned to their realms… thus returning the natural balance to the world.

"But." Cynthia jolts at his tone. "But if we are to assume that history is repeating itself, the battle should have been decided quite a while ago. Space… is stable. But time…" He purses his lips. "Time is standing still. The balance is broken."

"So that myth… wasn't a myth?" Cynthia stares at the man with newfound awe.

"Every story has a seed of truth," he says to the floor. Words from a long, long time ago. "And this is the most promising lead so far, Champion. Redirect your attention to the base of Eterna Statue. What strikes you as odd?"

Her eyes scan each individual document. Dialga… Palkia… The sun… The moon…

Wait a minute. There, on the fresco… on the decorated base… there, in the skies of a richly-illustrated storybook… Even in these children's stories…

Cynthia fumbles for the White Moonstone. "It's the inscription!" she exclaims. Yes, her heart is pounding again. "Cyrus! Cyrus, it's the same inscription on my Moonstone! On your Sunstone…! It's… Yes, these keys, they're… They're all connected!"

"Excellent observation-"

Cynthia leaps to her feet, and she yanks the handles of his wheelchair. "We have to go back to Fogbound Lake! To the statues!"

"Wait—"

"The treasure is just—"

"Champion Cynthia!"

She cowers like a scolded child. Cyrus exhales sharply, his fingers pinching his temples. "Champion Cynthia… must you always jump to conclusions? Rushing recklessly ahead will only endanger you and the people who care about you. Sit down."

Cynthia drops her ass down. "There are still stray puzzle pieces," Cyrus says. "Think about it. For example, have you ever considered why the White Moonstone is in your possession? For a hallowed relic, why was it carelessly thrown in the sand? Why would humans be a part of this equation—"

"Agh, shut up and go already! You're just sitting around!"

His mask cracks just like that, and soon he's glaring into her face. "I'm sorry, but must I remind you how you act on every spontaneous hunch that crosses your mind, never paying heed to the consequences?!"

"W-What?! Don't lecture me like I'm a stupid child-"

"How many times have you exposed yourself to danger? How many times have you ran away without telling anyone? How many times have you gotten hurt?" Cyrus is right within touching distance. And he's furious. "You're right: you're not a child anymore, but that's not what I'm seeing, Cy-"

The wall thumps, and the door creaks open to reveal an eavesdropping Mars. "Hey," she squeaks. "Um. Rain check—"

"What is it, Mars?" Cyrus snaps.

Mars yelps. "U-Um… It's done, Boss. Master Cyrus, sir. Capo."

Cynthia doesn't like the sound of that. "What's done?" she hisses.

Then Cyrus slumps back into his chair, a sleeve covering his mouth. "I-I'm sorry, Mars. Go ahead. I'll join you soon." The Commander is hesitant to leave, but he insists with a wave of his hand.

He turns back to the scowling woman. "I… I overstepped my bounds. I'm sorry, Champion Cynthia. I… I know my place, I assure you."

All the rage fades in an instant at that emotion on his face. "N-No," she gasps. "Cyrus—"

"Focus." He moves to the side, holding the door open. "Come with me, Champion Cynthia. There's something I'd like you to see."


The sound of approaching wheels freezes Saturn in his tracks. He runs his hands down his clothes and face.

"M-Master Cyrus!" He sounds joyously drunk. With a barely suppressed grin. "L-Look. W-We. Fixed!"

Cyrus nods approvingly. "Well done," he says warmly. "I knew you were-Saturn. Saturn." His expression is grim. "Saturn, are you all right? Saturn?"

"Don't worry," Mars says to Cynthia's bewildered gawking. Saturn is hyperventilating, and it seems that no one but Cyrus is lifting a figure to help the poor boy. "Happens every time he gets the Boss's attention."

Rotom bounces into sight. "Bzzt." The Plasma Pokemon guffaws when Saturn has to cover his nose with a napkin. Cyrus frowns, and Rotom immediately slips into the television. Static flashes to life. Lines. Pictures. Color oozing to the screen.

"Today on a Trainer's Day! What's fishing? Trainers with Rods!"

"Now on the Planting and Watering Show—"

"Happy-Happy Egg Club—"

"On the latest edition of Sinnoh Sports! Crasher Wake, the Torrential Masked Master, seizes yet another victory! With his signature 'CRASH!' this heavyweight champion dominates—"

"Cyrus?"

"Now, Sinnoh Now! with breaking news on Mt. Coronet, storm weather watch! Breaking news: The Sinnoh Weather Institute confirmed that this is not a natural storm. All research activity has been indefinitely suspended."

"What… is that?" Jupiter murmurs. "Why are the clouds… red?"

"Creepy stuff happens on Mt. Coronet," R-8 grumbles. "Creepy mountain. Creepy ghosts. A weird room with dots on the floor."

"That's where they fought," Cyrus mumbles. All heads whip to his direction. "Dialga and Palkia. According to one theory, Mt. Coronet is where the Sinnoh region began…" His brow furrows, and he lapses into a thoughtful silence.

"We will resume our up-to-date live coverage on this abnormal weather phenomenon. But for now, we bring you live, unedited updates from the Sinnoh Regional Conference! Roxy, what's the tea?"

"Yes, hi, Ron. We are eagerly awaiting for everyone's arrival. We're talking Fantina, the Alluring, Soulful Dancer, Crasher Wake, the Torrential Masked Masker… All the Gym Leaders. Detective Looker of the International Police will also be here to provide updates on the national manhunt."

"About time, Roxy. I can't wait until they arrest that Galac-TICK crook."

Cynthia lunges for the television, but the blizzard is faster, freezing her in place with a cold, dead glare.

"What's the hold-up, Roxy?"

"Oli, keep looking! Um. Well, Ron, looks like Champion Cynthia hasn't arrived yet."

Then all eyes turn to her. "I-I'm not going," Cynthia snaps—and winces.

"And why not?" His tone is frustratingly even, despite the twitching eye.

"B-Because! They… They'll just talk bad about you—"

"I don't think you understand your position, Champion." He yanks the chair around. Even though he's sitting, she still cringes under the crackling air. "Does a hero abandon her people when they need her the most?"

"Don't tell me what to do—"

"I'm not telling you what to do," Cyrus hisses. "I'm reminding you what the Hero of Sinnoh should be doing right now." Each emphasized word is accompanied with a shake of the head. Almost as if he's… disappointed. "Remember: In the end, I'm still a wanted criminal. I'm only cooperating because of our contract, so when the duration ends—"

"NO!" Cynthia seizes his armrests. He flinches. "Cyrus, you're not the villain! You're my friend! And it's not your fault that—"

Cold claws shove her back. Gengar. Gengar is shielding him from her. Meanwhile, the rest of his team watches in horrified silence.

"To everyone else, you and I are enemies!" Cyrus jerks the wheels back, and Cynthia instinctively recoils. "Remember who you are! You're the Hero who hauled this Villain to justice! You are the only one that Detective Looker can rely on! Everyone in Sinnoh is looking to you to set things right!"

"It's not right if you're being falsely accused!"

"Why must you insist on being so damn stubborn, Cy-"

Then he goes completely still once her words penetrated his heart.

Cynthia's eyeballs are tingling. "C-Cyrus. Cyrus." She stills her pounding chest. His neck snaps up, only to quickly jerk away.

"No. N-No. No, you're not… That's not… right…" He's whispering into his sleeves. "No. You mustn't say that, Champion Cynthia. That's wrong."

"Cy—"

"You're letting your emotions stand in the way of your obligations. Again." His shoulders are trembling. "You always act without reflection. Can't you see that your legacy is at stake…?

"You need to go to the conference, Champion Cynthia. You need to clearly state your position… Calm the people's fears. Assure them that everything is all right." Cyrus raises his head, a melancholy smile on his lips. Her heart flutters uneasily. "Think about it. The one who hurt you will also be at the conference. If they're convinced that you're on the good side, they'll drop their guard around you, at least somewhat. Meanwhile, I'll finalize a plan… I'll be useful, I assure you."

Cyrus stops speaking. He turns to the television. Gengar growls, but he waves it down with a weak hand.

"Something must've happened to Champion Cynthia. Arceus forbid that psycho got to her first. They're sending out helicopters—"

"Fine," Cynthia snarls. "I'll go. But I'll be back, Cyrus. We'll solve this together."

I won't abandon you ever again. A promise is a promise.

"I don't care if the meats and cheeses touch," she announces. He twitches, but otherwise remains glued to the screen. Oh. It hasn't completely healed yet…

His team though, is staring at her weirdly.

And with another desperate glance, Cynthia marches away, back into the light of society.


One can feel the tension of the Battle Frontier from across the sea. The Sinnoh Regional Conference is underway, and yet, nothing appears to have settled. Beyond its golden gates, prestigious leaders are making their way past a rather intimidating block of security.

And within the castle walls, a tired voice is speaking. "Lucian, stop pacing around!"

Said man hitches his glasses. "I'm moving seats, Bertha. I'd rather be in much more likeminded company."

"What's wrong with sitting next to Volkner?" Aaron whimpers. "You never seemed to mind before…"

"I don't really care," yawns the Gym Leader of Sunyshore City. "More leg room for me."

"Arceus you two…" Flint rakes his fingers through his afro. There are indentions in his hair. "Volkner, focus. Lucian, what the blazes is your problem?"

"My problem? That your friend is purposefully acting like a spoiled child? We are in the middle of a national emer—"

And to that, Volkner unleashes an explosive yawn. He kicks his socks on Lucian's chair, flicks his nose, and snuggles into the plush filling.

"Why are you two arguing?" Byron huffs. His beard has seen better days, and so has his complexion. "You two should be working together to apprehend that criminal!"

Roark clears his throat. "Dad. Dad, calm down. You're just tired. Here, sit down—"

"Stop treating me like an old man, damn it!"

"The situation is not pretty," mumbles Maylene as she cradles her empty stomach. She sighs.

Candice crosses her arms. "Maylene, you're not your Meditite. Break the regiment and eat something already Honestly, after all that crap at Veilstone… you need to take better care of yourself."

"Tourism shot up dramatically before it plummeted, huh?" murmurs Gardenia. "Plus, with all this time running amok, there's been a rise of G-Ghost Pokemon…"

"I disapprove of zhe police presence in Hearthome!" grumbles Fantina. Her violet hair is down today, falling past her hips. "C'est inutile! Jenny is already on zhe job! My residents are complaining about les pistolets on the streets!"

Byron slams his fists on the table. "Well, all the sooner to catch that lunatic!" Roark reaches out, only to be stopped by a glare. "He stole Canalave's time! Not to mention Snowpoint's, Jubilife's… I can't just sit still and let some madman destroy the world!"

Bertha exhales loudly. "Byron, I understand that you're stressed. However, that shouldn't give you the excuse to take it out on us!"

As the older members trade blows, Candice sinks back into her seat. "Hmm? Crasher Wake," she whispers. "What's wrong?"

The man gives a tired smile. One which she never thought she would see on a boisterous, lively man such as he. "I'm just… thinking." Even his voice is weak.

Then the double doors open. A tall man with spiky blond hair hurries into the room. Behind him is the detective with his briefcase and grim expression.

Clip. Clip. A fur coat. Golden hair streaming down her shoulders, leeching all the light in the room to a singular person.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," says the Champion of Sinnoh. "Let's get this meeting started."


Looker spreads his documents on the table. "The investigation is turning up loose ends. We have tips, but none prove to be any way promising."

"You cops are just dragging your feet!" Byron growls.

"Dad!"

"No, listen up, Interpol! My city's been hit with this crazy mumbo-jumbo! We have generations of families there, lives, legacies! They all come to me, expecting me to have an answer… But I don't! And you know why? Because the people who are supposed to have the answers aren't telling anyone else!"

Looker makes a deep, guttural sound in his throat. "I understand your frustration, Byron, but—"

"No, you don't! You're just a spokesperson! Bring someone that can actually get things done!"

"DAD!"

"We are DOING everything we CAN!" Looker snaps. CRACK! Palms against a wooden table. "EXCUSE ME for not being familiar with TIME ACTUALLY STOPPING! I MUST'VE MISSED SOMETHING RECENTLY!"

"There's a lot of places that can hide people," Gardenia whispers after a tense silence that overstayed its welcome. "Mt. Coronet, for example."

Fantina shakes her head. "Have you seen le temps? Izz like the sky is tearing in two! It's too dangereux for anyone to go up there!"

"The time distortion," Bertha mutters. "It must be disrupting normal weather…"

"Well, what do we do?" Byron huffs. "We're just sitting on our asses while that psychopath is running around ruining lives!"

Looker's eye twitches. Cynthia steps in. "Any luck on the remaining Time Gears?" she says.

"Guards are protecting the ones we found." Looker sighs. "Was. They were. Spending too much time in those places really took a toll on their minds. We even had an incident of friendly fire…" He's rubbing his hands all over his hair. "Mesprit appears to have gone off somewhere. We still have two more to locate, but given the scope of the distortion…"

Another silence. Gardenia wets her lips. "H-Have you checked Eterna Forest? I-I mean, I would've checked, but there were a lot of G-Ghost Pokemon. I couldn't get in."

"I have." Cynthia's eyes widen when it's Looker who speaks. "I fear that the distortion is reaching into the forest. Things that shouldn't be there… The past is being unwound…"

"What?" Flint grunts. "Unwound… what? The future?"

"Never mind. Now, have there been any developments on your ends?"

The Gym Leaders shake their heads.

"Um…" Heads whip to the two-person news team. Roxy jumps, but due to her obligations as a reporter, she stands strong. "U-Um… so…"

"Go ahead." Looker doesn't look too happy about it.

"Oh. Y-Yes. We were just curious about Champion Cynthia's position on this issue." Roxy musters a faint smile. "You've missed out on a lot of developments, Miss Champion. I understand that you were busy, keeping the peace and all, but do you have some time to speak to our audience back home?"

Cynthia grabs the microphone. Roxy yanks back her hand before her wrist breaks.

"First of all," Champion Cynthia says. "I apologize for not being there when you needed me the most. I've failed as your Champion, but I promise that I'll set things right."

Then she holds up that wanted poster. "This man… This criminal, mastermind of the Time Gear theft, instigator of the planet's paralysis… His phony company—The Cosmic Energy Development Corporation—is just a front for his dastardly cult: Team Galactic. A horde of pitiful, brainwashed fools lured under delusions of grandeur… tricked by grand-reaching ideologies of the 'Cosmos.' 'Galaxy.' 'Space.' 'Universe…'

"Cyrus of Team Galactic." The Champion's glare pierces through the screen. "I know that you're out there somewhere. I know that you're watching. You might think that you're safe, but we'll find you. Justice always prevails over the lowly villain in the end, sound familiar? And I, Cynthia, the Champion and Hero of Sinnoh, will personally apprehend you myself! I did it once, and I'll do it again!"

The reporters' eyes are shining. "A-And? What then?"

Cynthia's lips curl. "I think hell's too kind for an emotionally devoid monster like him. He'll be put on trial of course… no one should be denied due process, after all. But he'll know the faces of those whose lives he had destroyed." She jabs a finger to an indivisible heart. "His prior confession is already guaranteed to put him away for a long, long time… And if he's finally arrested, we'll have more than enough to ensure that he'll never see the sun ever again."

Lucian shoots to his feet. He's clapping. Byron enthusiastically joins in. Behind the screen, homes erupt into thunderous applause. There are hugs. There are tears.

Gardenia slowly stands, followed by a groggy Maylene. Fantina stands with her arms crossed. Roark claps for a few seconds before he pulls his helmet over his eyes. Aaron goes along with the group, looking uncomfortable the whole way.

Bertha, though, seems completely taken aback. Looker does a double take, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging like an unhinged door.

"That was great!" When she receives no answer, Candice turns. Crasher Wake isn't in his seat. In fact, he's nowhere in the room. And across the table, next to a cheering Lucian, are two more empty seats.


No one dares to approach the wheelchair. The silence that stretches eventually grows heavy enough to snap spines.

Rotom peers out from the television. "Cy… Cyrus—zzt… No… No more watching."

"No."

"I detest her," Elise hisses. "How dare she—"

"Stop."

"M-Master Cyrus…"

"Cyrus?"

"What's wrong with the television, Rotom?" Cyrus isn't aware of his voice. If he is, it shouldn't have sounded that way. If he focuses hard enough, if he can suppress this revolting, ugly thing in his chest, then the fuzzy edges will go away.

"Bzzt… Cyrus, we should stop—"

"Rotom. Fix the television now."

"Cyrus, you're scaring Rotom!"

Cyrus yanks his hand away from Elise's palm. She gasps. "Rotom," he growls. "Fix the television, NOW!"

"Zzzt… zzt… something… interfering with signal… bzzt…"

Cyrus lurches forward, his eyes set on the innards of the old television. Breathing hurts. His fingers can't even work, can't even grasp the wires properly. The world is shaking. The blizzard is squeezing him from all sides.

Those eyes burn a hole straight through his heart, fire spreading down his neck. Her face, the face of the Champion, of someone on the other side of glass walls, is far too regal for someone like him. Then he's back at Crystal Cave. He's back at the other end of that linoleum table. Back at his old office in Veilstone as her jabbing figure commanded the firing line.

Did I really just talk to her this morning? Was she even in the room? Sitting on the bed? Did any of that… even happen…?

Solid hands clamp on his shoulders. For a moment his mind goes blank, and Cyrus flinches so violently that he almost falls out of the chair. When consciousness returns, there's a woolen blanket over his shoulders. Warm, gentle words grazing his ears, trickling down into his erratic heart…

"That's enough TV time." Jupiter's face fuzzes into view. Those eyes, sharp and strict. "Cyrus? Oh…" A trembling hand reaches out and nips on the edge of her sleeve. Never closer, but still there, desperately hanging on to her presence.

"Something…zzt… is wrong, bzzt. The airwa—kkzzt. Some—kzzt. Bzzt. Bzzzt?"

"Rotom, shut the TV off!" Saturn roars.

"Bzzt! I… I can't—zzt! It's stuck—zzzttt?! Something's forcing—kkzzt. Hija—zzt! Hijack! Kzzzttt. Bzzzzzzztttttt."

BOOM!

The noise of something very, very big and metallic crashing through stained-glass roof. Shards fly with falling debris. Cyrus looks up just in time to witness what every viewer at home is seeing: an armored suit with a destructive laser.

An armored suit with the Galactic "G" shining in plain sight.

"What is that?!"

"It's those Galactic crooks!" Lucian snaps, summoning out his Pokemon. "AH HAH! It's that criminal! He finally made his move!"

"What…?" Looker murmurs. "But how…"

Byron pulls out a shovel from thin air. "Time for payback, you sick bastard!"

As the other side of the screen erupts into chaos, everyone here looks to Cyrus, who's staring at the havoc in complete shock. The robot raises a hand. EEEEEEEEEE! A sound that fails to reach the audio range of humans.

But the Pokemon react. They twist in the air. Steelix swivels around with a Gyro Ball in its Trainer's direction. Drifblim's body blinking in preparation for Explosion. Lucario is throwing itself at everything in sight, destroying what it had last touched.

Cyrus glances around the mansion. Elise stares back. A Grunt's Clefairy chirps nervously. The Pokemon here remain unaffected… So that means… whatever disrupted the Pokemon must be coming from a remote location near the Battle Frontier.

A disruption… Cyrus's face darkens. No. That's… sound. Sound waves. Interference. A frequency that can cause Pokemon to behave erratically, even to the point of attacking its Trainers?

Cyrus recalls a conversation out of the blue. The circumstances have not been ideal when it occurred. He was… berating? Scolding? No, something much harsher than that…

"I see… you calculated the number of frequencies that various Pokemon don't like... And then you used those frequencies to force these Pokemon to obey you! You managed to command all these Pokemon with one little gimmick! Not only have you violated company protocol, but you dared to test my patience yet again? If you won't respect me or my company, then I'll have to personally deal with you—"

"Charon," Cyrus growls. "Of course… Right when we least expect it."

More robots are spilling into the screen. The scene pans out—jerky, abrupt movements from a hacked computer. A full view of the robot army, the primary focus on that golden "G" that bulges like a parasite on a Feebas. The same "G" that started out as a dream on fabric.

"Charon's back?" Mars hisses. "How dare that bastard use my logo on his damn robots? He doesn't even belong in the family! What the hell does he want?!"

Jupiter crosses her arms. Her face is stern, but her tone is icy. "He's aiming for Cynthia, no doubt… But why a direct attack on the Battle Frontier? See? Even with an entire army, he's still no match for the Gym Leaders and Elite Four." She frowns. "He's losing, but… why isn't he running away, like he always does?"

"Roxy, Roxy, what happened to the camera?!"

"Now, on Sinnoh Now! Folks! It seems that Team Galactic has officially launched their attack! But Champion Cynthia is fighting back! Wow, Oli, look how she's taking care of a legion entirely on her own!"

Saturn's jaw drops. "Hey… Hey, that's my Spyeye!" He jabs at the screen. "Charon stole my Spyeye! DA-MASTER CYRUS, CHARON STOLE MY SPYEYE!"

"Cyrus…zzzt… It… it… hurts… zzt. Bzzt…"

Cyrus licks his palm and smacks that against the television. He feels the electricity coursing up his wrist, climbing up his veins, running through his heart… At last, Rotom safely emerges from the other side of the conductor.

"Cyrus!" Through fading vision does he see her. Screaming at him again. Scolding him for being stupid. Again. "You're a human, not a damn lightning rod!"

"He's made his move," Cyrus croaks. Words painfully escape as ragged patches from his throat. "Charon wasn't… Charon wasn't after the Champion… His intention wasn't to sabotage the Sinnoh Regional Conference…

"It's me." Cyrus casts a grim look to his horrified audience—his team. "Everyone saw that declaration of war. The world knows that Team Galactic is still alive, and that its leader is seeking revenge."

I should've accounted for Charon's interference. I sent her there without realizing the risks… I should've known better. But I messed up. Of course. Now I'm trapped. I can't hide for much longer…

There's also his team… There's also their futures as well…

THUMP! Cyrus tastes floor. Before those hands can come, he sucks in all the breath into his overworked lungs to pull himself up. The world swims at first, but he manages to haul himself back up the wheelchair.

"I need to hurry," he wheezes. "I need… to find a solution…"

Before I run out of time.


Sure enough, the Grunts are all looking at her differently. There's a physical and unestablished distance between her and the Commanders. Even the normally friendly Mars is avoiding eye contact.

It feels like she's dirty. There's a stain on her heart that can't be washed away. As if she's crossed the Rubicon, past the point of no return. As if she's a black hole in their solar system.

But before she can finish climbing the stairs, claws shoot up her ankles, digging into her skin. The world tilts—air rushes against her back as time and space crawl to a halt—

Cynthia lands in soft, strong arms. Jupiter.

"You almost killed her!" Jupiter snaps to the glowering Gengar. The Ghost is… much bigger than last time, its mass an accumulation of all the darkness within the Old Chateau. A storm of Gastly circle the towering specter. A faded Haunter attempts to calm the Gengar, but the latter is too consumed by rage to listen to reason.

A Shadow Ball writhes in Gengar's gaping jaws—a form of energy fueled by the most bitter of grudges. Warmth leeches from under Cynthia's skin, rendering her into a shivering mess. The roof trembles. Sawdust pour to the floor.

"Go to Cyrus." The Commanders pull out their Pokemon. Even the Grunts help. Cynthia dives under the Shadow Ball's trajectory just in time to avoid a hole to the skull.

"Beautifly, String Shot!"

"Gastrodon, Bubble Beam!"

"Purugly, Shadow Claw!"

A cold hand grabs her wrist. Cynthia follows that Haunter down the darkened hallways until they reach the unmarked door.


It's quiet. Peacefully silent, as if she'd stepped down the wharf to the golden sands. The Wingull are singing. The Krabby are running around. The boy looks up once she nears shoreline, and he timidly hides his face behind a storybook.

Back to reality, and it's the click click of tools amongst the landmine of miscellaneous parts and scraps. One hand dancing on whatever contraption the young man is working on. Crobat, Honchkrow, Weavile, and Gyarados being silent but watchful observers.

He's making crutches.

That look tells her all she needs to know. The gaping chasms under his eyes, those sunken cheekbones that hug his face like a valley. That stiffness in his shoulders, the protruding trenches under his shirt.

Charon was back, and she knows that he knows that. But he also knows that everyone knows that Team Galactic is officially back, that its leader meant to declare war with the people. That Charon's attack was but a red herring to smoke Cyrus out to the light of scrutiny.

And no matter what Cyrus does, everything is pitted against him.

Cynthia doesn't need to tell him that the bounty had quadrupled. That Looker's been reassigned. That Lucian's leading the case now, and he's not leaving any stones unturned.

"Shoot first, ask questions later."

BAM! The crutches slip from his grasp. Cyrus bends down—THUMP!—and he's on his knees. Then he's just staring, unmoving… unresponsive to the world around him, to the notebooks, to the tomes, to the progress that he'd made entirely on his own.

"I can't do it," Cyrus whispers. He's rubbing at his eyes until they bleed. "I-I can't work fast enough. I-I can't t-think of anything. There's so much to do… but time's running out…"

Cynthia kneels next to him. "Cyrus," she states his name firmly. He shields his face with a sleeve. "C-Cyrus." She gently brushes the partition away, and she hears the moment when his heart stops. "Cyrus, nothing will happen to you. I promise—"

"Will it be like your promises from last time?" That, and Cynthia staggers back with her hands over her mouth. Cyrus dangles his head. "If… If you are to continue working with me… then we'd need a miracle. There must be a way to expedite progress… before it's too late." Those last words she had to strain to hear.

"Cyrus…" Wait a minute. Sunlight shines into her heart, and the seed blossoms into a flower of hope. "Cyrus, there's an option."

He waits.

"Just the two of us aren't enough. We need a third person, Cyrus… someone who's also an expert on mythology and Pokemon."

Cyrus finally lifts his head. "I…" Cynthia sees the small, desperate flicker of hope in his dim eyes. "I know we have a contract. I know I promised not to involve a third party, but—"

"Do as you wish." Weavile helps its Trainer back onto the chair. Rotom flutters weakly by his side, blue eyes peering into his sullen face. A sigh. "You don't have to ask me for anything. The only thing that matters now is finding a way of saving your precious world."

Cyrus puts his unfinished crutches to the side. "Pardon me. Stand aside." Cynthia complies. "I'll calm Elise down. Champion Cynthia, you do what it is that you have to do."

He stops before the door. "And don't worry about me. I won't be going anywhere."