The rain came down as soon as they entered Crystal Cave. Lightning cleaves the world in two, prompting Cynthia to jump backwards.
"O-Oops. Sorry, Cy—"
Cyrus violently yanks his shoulder away. He mutters something under his breath, words intercepted by the rain before they reach Cynthia's ears.
Crystal Cave is one of those places that fills you with a sense of awe and foreboding. Her stomach moans unnecessarily. Every minor sound makes her jump. Every breath comes out as a chilled puff.
The crystals are still colorful.
Clip. Clip. The ground is littered with debris. It's like wading through a sea of dust. How Cyrus hasn't fallen yet remains a mystery.
Or maybe she spoke too soon.
"Professor Rowan."
"Cyrus, did you feel that? There was an earthquake just now. Quite a big one too."
Cyrus messages his knee with a grimace. "Was anyone hurt?"
"No. But the Pokemon are growing restless. Rotom won't calm down—"
"ZZZT!" Cyrus yanks the headset away. "ZZzzzZT!"
"I'll be careful." Those eyes flicker to Cynthia, to the entrance far, far away. "It's raining here… and perhaps it's raining somewhere else as well. From the looks of things, this will be a big storm."
"Doc!"
"B-2?"
"Doc, the fog came like that! Snap! R-8 and I are sticking close like fat on a Torchic, but it's still damn impossible to see! Defog isn't making a dent in this thing!"
"Fog…? B-2, don't—"
"Boss!"
A flash of something crosses Cyrus's stony mask. "Mars?"
"Mister Cyrus! I think there's something in Foggy Forest! Something big and scary! We can hear footsteps!" And sure enough, a low growl leaks from the speakers.
"The Red Sunstone's a wonderful flashlight, Boss! Don't worry, we'll find a cave… Hope… hide…"
"Mars? Diamond? Speak!" Cyrus strikes the machine with the back of his hand. Slaps it again. "Work, stupid thing!"
"Cyrus!" Cynthia hisses. "It's just the wind—"
"Mind your own business."
Cynthia blanches. Cyrus opens the gear with his fingernails, fiddles with the wires, and shoves it back into his ear. "Mars! Mars, do you copy?"
"…rus!"
"Jupiter! Jupiter, come in!"
"Hail… Forest… Hard…"
"Jupiter! Where is Miss Berlitz? Is she with you?"
"…ter Cy… Snow… so…"
Cyrus drags a violent hand through his hair. "Saturn? Saturn, are you out there? Respond."
"Master Cyrus!"
Cyrus's knees buckle. Cynthia starts forward—but freezes for Arceus knows why. When she regains her bearings, Cyrus is on the ground, but he looks otherwise content with inhaling crystal dust.
"Sorry, Boss. We got stuck in a sandstorm. Pearl and I are—ACK! There's a bug in my mouth!"
"We're heading towards the exit—ugh, just spit that out! No, not on me! That's disgusting!" A crackle. "A-Anyway. There's nothing here. Just quicksand."
"Quicksand…" Cyrus scowls at a nearby crystal. His reflection's gaze darts to the woman behind him. "What do you make of that, Champion Cynthia?"
Cynthia's head snaps up. "Um. Uh?"
"Quicksand," Cyrus says flatly. "There is quicksand at the end of the dungeon. Here."
"Is that it then?" Rowan is saying. "Pearl, Saturn, is there something that stands out? A rock formation, a certain indicator of a puzzle?"
"Um… no. Just quicksand. As far as the eye can see."
"There's a secret," Cynthia murmurs. Cyrus lifts a brow. "That's the puzzle!"
"What puzzle? Where's the hint? I don't see any riddle or key hidden under the cactus, do you? What the heck do you want me to do? There's no way up but down!"
Down… That lone word echoes through the adult's minds. Cynthia locks eyes with Cyrus. What if…
And by the sounds of things, Pearl had caught the drift. "Oh no," Saturn says. "Ohnonono. Are you serious?! Are you seriously suggesting that we should jump in?!"
A small bickering. Then Saturn groans. "Fiiiiiiine." A silence. "Boss?"
"Y-Yes?"
"Don't tell Jupiter."
By this point Cynthia is so close to Cyrus that one breath from her lungs creases the collar of his shirt.
"Pearl? Pearl? Saturn!"
Crackling. Static. White noise persists even after Cyrus disassembles and reassembles the headpiece. Twice.
"…wan!"
"Pearl! Saturn!"
"…cave! We got… bottom! There's a… om!"
"They got through!" Rowan huffs. "They—Boys? Boys! Cynthia, Cyrus, are you still there? We've lost the boy's signal."
"I think they'll be fine," Cynthia says breathlessly.
"I know. But what about… Cave… Dark clouds…"
"Professor Rowan? Professor Rowan!" Nope. Just static now. That storm must've picked up.
Cyrus is glaring at nothing in particular. Then he sighs. He lurches up on his feet and continues into the cave, never sparing a second glance.
The deeper they go, the more Cynthia's stomach swims to the point of throwing up. To make matters worse, she has to fill her head with possible scenarios just so she won't go crazy.
Crystals reflect a waterfall up ahead. Rivulets coursing through cracks in the dark earth, water glistening like jewels. There's that golden bouquet of crystals—oh. Is that my face? I look horrible…
A pebble plops on her scalp. Cynthia barely has time to look up when the ceiling crashes down—instead of sharp boulders fracturing her skull, she finds herself on her ass, gaping at what would've been an unfortunate end.
"Holy fu—Thanks, Cyrus."
Cyrus brushes past before she can glimpse that look on his face.
"HUGH-!"
"Cyrus!" Cynthia runs to his side. Holy Arceus. "Cyrus, let's sit down. Come on."
"I am fine," he snaps. Stubborn as a Bibarel. Stupid like one too.
"No, you're not! Sit down!"
"I am FINE—"
Cynthia catches him before he breaks his nose for the tenth time. I told you so I TOLD YOU SO! She carries him to a boulder and sets him down like the piece of glass that he is.
Cyrus is taking painful, shallow breaths. His face is green, and it's not from the glow of the crystals. Cynthia watches as he slams his fists down on his kneecaps with a nasty self-directed curse. Comforting nothingness is not what he needs right now. Not what anyone needs.
The music of flowing water soothes her aching heart. Relieves the pounding in her coarse ears. Cynthia leans back, skims her hand above the surface of that glassy lake, shuddering as the currents burrow underneath her fingernails.
What do I say? He's not even in the mood to listen. I don't want to twist that knife, but…
Cyrus is staring at something. His hand hovers above his chin, as if he's deep in thought. She follows his gaze to the crystals. To the space between the crystals. To the yellow placard labeled "3" to the dark stain on the ground amidst cones and police tape—
"All evidence have been confiscated," Cyrus whispers, and she instantly buries her face. "They've interrogated me about the bloodstains… the soiled uniform… All irrelevant questions to the mission at hand."
A small tremor shakes her core. Cyrus shifts his weight to the other leg, the movement opening a cold void behind Cynthia.
"How—" She clears her throat. Swallows her bitter saliva. Ripples scatter within the river, contorting the image of the man beside her. "How did you know it was Crystal Cave?"
A pause. "I didn't." What? Cyrus gently taps the glowing surface of the water. A Remoraid nips at his fingers before swimming away. "Being 100% confident in anything is dangerous… But you were racing against time, so… so that's why."
Cynthia's cheeks are burning. "How… How did you know the way?"
Another pause. "I have—" Cyrus drops his head. "I had a business partner who held a considerable admiration towards soil. And rocks. His best friend was fascinated by the sea… he can tell where civilizations lie from the presence of a body of water."
"They sound like nerds."
"Hm. They're… passionate about what they love."
"So they're supernerds."
"Heh. Perhaps."
Cynthia smiles into her hands. A Buizel paddles down the river. An Absol stops, sniffs the air, and scampers back into the darkness.
And Cyrus stands. Cynthia follows the irregular rhythm of those crutches as they proceed down the blinking crystal path.
Cyrus stops before a fork in the road. Six prongs, to be exact. The equation unravels within the machine as those eagle eyes leave no stone unturned. He stares at the pattern of crystals on the ceiling with the same concentration as he would dedicate to the stars at night.
"What color is red?"
Cynthia blinks. N-ope. He's dead serious. Cyrus isn't the type to joke around. "Um. T-The color of a strawberry. Of a rose." A pause. "The… The color of the sun at dusk."
"I see." He still doesn't sound convinced. "The path to the antechamber is marked by red crystals. That's the road we must take."
"Oh." And he just stands there. Is he waiting for me? To go first? "Okay, it's—" Then something catches in her memory: an observation. A strange, peculiar thing she noticed as odd but dismissed it.
What if… Cynthia raises a shaky finger. "It's that one." The path of the white crystals.
"All right."
"W-Wait, Cyrus. The crystal just changed color. They're blue now."
"Oh. Right." He rubs his eyes. "I apologize."
The lightning must've done more damage than we thought. "Cyrus?" Cynthia swallows-hard. "I dyed my hair."
Cyrus blinks. Blinks again. "You… did?"
"Y-Yeah. Do you like the new color?"
Cyrus is squinting now. "I… I don't mean to be rude, but how is this relevant to anything?"
It is. It sure as hell is. But out loud, she says, "Never mind. The red crystals are that way." Cyrus opens his mouth, but she pushes ahead.
The tunnel is pitch-black, save for the constellations above their heads. Cyrus follows her closely, unaware that Cynthia had grabbed his sleeve. He's more of a liability than an asset right now, but I won't lose him. Never again.
The mouth opens to blinding light. They're reached the deepest part of the cave: the Crystal Puzzle.
"You know what to do," Cyrus mutters, gaze downcast.
"Y-Yes." The planetarium is decorated like a crime scene. She shakes her head, and she lifts that police tape.
With a sharp electrical surge, the first crystal shimmers an iridescent blue. Azelf's spirit is as clear as crystal. Willpower precedes action.
The next crystal turns a glistening gold. Cynthia shivers. Uxie's spirit is as endowed as all the lost treasure in the world. Knowledge is a vast and priceless vault…
A reflection stares back in that golden crystal—and Cynthia whirls around. No one. No Bertha, Flint, Lucian, nor Aaron. No one but her and Cyrus in this antechamber. Cynthia hugs her arms tightly until her breathing returns to normal.
And she sees it. A trail of blood, marked by police tape. Juicy, dried droplets of blood leading to his feet.
Cyrus is standing before the final crystal, the one whose color glints a sordid yellow. His hand hovers over that splatter of dark red… but he simply turns away.
Did his reflection just snarl at me…?
Cyrus sighs. He tries again, raising a hand to the rock. TING! Blue. TING! Green. TING! Red. With each touch his shadow ripples, one step closer to taking a life of its own.
He catches her staring, and he quietly steps back.
Mesprit's spirit is as fragile as the human heart. Emotions are volatile, yet fleeting. Beautiful and flawed.
TING! The passageway rises from the ground. Cyrus marches on, and Cynthia risks one last glance behind her before following him to what lies ahead.
The wind is howling—no. That's just her. That's just the blood roaring in her ears.
Crystal Lake sprawls before them: a pristine, perfect wonderland. Crystal-clear water stir on both sides of the walkway, distorting faces and warping reality.
Cyrus stops. He surveys the empty lake. One tap of the crutch echoes like the drum of war.
"The Time Gear." Cynthia points to the unearthly green glow. Another tremor shakes the lake. "Let's hurry, Cyrus."
Cyrus is still looking around. What is he searching for? "Cyrus," Cynthia says gently and with a slight nudge. "The Time Gear is this way."
"I know."
Cynthia lets him by, staring after his retreating back as he climbs the crystal pedestal. A minute passes. Two minutes before he turns with the oddest expression on his face.
She'd seen this expression before. The complete lack of emotion… it was back when-
"W-What? Is there someone behind me?" Nope. "Cyrus, hurry up. Let's go."
Cyrus tilts his head. Those frosty eyes never leave her soul.
"C-Cyrus?" Cold. Why is it so cold? "Cyrus, you're creeping me out. C-Come on." Why is he suddenly so far away?
Cyrus unclasps his arm sling. He flexes his right arm, face perfectly blank as the limb spasms with the abrupt movement. Cynthia's breath hitches when he tosses that cast to the side. Those crutches fall to the ground, which he also kicks out of sight.
"Cyrus!"
"…rus! Cyrus! We'e located the Time Gear! Mystifying Forest is as good as Gala—"
Cyrus plucks the headpiece from his ear. It slips through his fingers—and is crushed by an unforgiving heel.
"Pyoo…"
"CYRUS! What the fuck are you doing?!"
"…oss! The… Desert… got the—"
BAM! The headpiece shatters into a million irreversible pieces.
Red blossoms bursts into Cynthia's eyeballs. "Cyrus!" she screeches. "CYRUS, THIS ISN'T FUNNY—"
"Icy wind."
A gust of chilled air knocks Cynthia off her feet. When the dancing dots go away, Cynthia opens her eyes to see a razor-sharp claw aimed at her throat.
Battle instincts take over. "Spiritomb, Ominous Wind!"
Weavile braces itself for the gales of darkness. Writhing humanoid faces swipe at its body, and the cat flinches. Spritiomb sneers—and blasts Weavile in the chest with a Dark Pulse.
"Your Spiritomb is a fine Pokemon." There's nothing in his voice. "A dual-type Pokemon, part Ghost-Type and part Dark-Type, with no specific weakness, a good defense, and a good special defense too. It's a tough Pokemon to beat.
"In times like this… one may disregard the Type of the opposing Pokemon… and simply deploy the strongest attack at one's disposal."
Spiritomb freezes. With a horrible shriek, its body shoots back into the frozen Odd Keystone.
What did he… "CYRUS!" Cynthia barks. "This is no time for a Pokemon battle! We need the Time Gear—" Weavile's claws almost scratch out her larynx if not for Roserade's emergency thorns.
"Ice Beam."
"Cyrus, Weavile is badly poisoned!" That Ice attack hits Roserade square in the chest. Weavile's faring no better, as in crumbles to its knees. "Weavile, stop this! You don't need to do this!"
That look on the Pokemon's face stops her cold. It looks… confused. So very confused.
"Ice Punch."
"Cyrus, stop! You have to treat its wounds—"
"Weavile! Avalanche, now!"
The Pokemon slowly pulls itself up. It opens its mouth… and collapses.
"Pyooooo…!"
"Cy—"
Gyarados's roar yanks the hairs off her head. Cynthia immediately deploys Milotic to counter that rampaging Hydro Pump. Torrents of water explode over Crystal Lake's pristine surface, prompting a steady shower within cavern walls.
What is wrong with him? Why can't he listen to reason?! Cynthia slices her hand through the simmering air. "Milotic, Dragon Pulse—"
"EEEEYAAA!" Cynthia dives as Milotic's body sails above her head. BAAAM! Gyarados's nostrils are flaring, but… but it looks very lost.
"Giga Impact."
Gyrados scowls. "RAAAH?"
"Giga. Impact. Now."
Like the sting of a whip, Gyarados's body lurches into motion. Its speed is unbelievable—ramming into the already battered Milotic like a spear of lightning. The cavern ceiling groans, shedding decent-sized stalactites into the churning lake.
"Pyooooooo!"
Cyrus just won't listen to reason! Cynthia calls her next Pokemon. Jupiter was right. It's up to me to knock some sense back into that thick skull.
"Lucario, Swords Dance! Then Stone Edge!"
Lucario thrusts a sharpened flint into the tender area of Gyarados's body. The serpent howls, but Lucario is already on its next move, calling down an avalanche of large boulders to bury the serpent into ruin.
"Give up, Cyrus! Move away from that Time Gear!"
Cyrus snickers. He points to the ceiling. Cynthia stupidly looks up to see a wave of Psychic energy smash into Lucario's face. The latter aims a Close Combat at Honchkrow—and ends up jabbing itself in the eyes.
"No! Lucario!" Cynthia rushes to cradle the unconscious Pokemon into her arms. She gnashes her teeth. "Cyrus…" Once again, red flowers are gnawing at her eyeballs. She hears that laugh again, a repulsive sound that makes her flesh crawl. "That is IT, Cyrus! You want to play rough? I'll take that Time Gear by force!
"Togekiss, Air Slash!"
"Pryeeeh?"
"Do it, Togekiss! Knock down his Honchkrow!"
As Cynthia yells, a voice creeps into the back of her skull. "Yes… do it, Cynthia." A voice so warm and familiar and poisonous, one that fills her heart with determination.
Honchkrow settles down. It barks something to the Jubilee Pokemon, who gasps and swivels back. "Attack!" Cynthia snaps. But no, Togekiss seems to be telling her something.
Have its eyes ever looked so… sad?
Is someone crying? Wait. What am I doing? No no no this is all wrong! I'm supposed to protect him! I'm supposed to…
"Hehehehe." That snicker shreds down her spine. Cyrus's fingers brush upon the royal glow of the Time Gear, and her heart reacts by squirting hot blood to every part of her body. Her throat burns, as also her desire to k—
"NO!" Togekiss appears to scream. "No, Cynthia! Fight her! Don't let her—"
"Keep your filthy paws off that Time Gear, criminal!" That voice isn't hers. It's a powerful voice, one of pure, unfiltered, power. Her arm moves on its own, and when the world stops spinning, Honchkrow is but a broken bird.
"PyoooooooaaaaAAA!"
Togekiss immediately drops its bristling wings to hurry to the crow's side. The Pokemon that once brought happiness is now glaring at its Trainer with horror.
It's crying. Togekiss is crying. Someone is crying. No, not just one. What am I doing? Nonono—
"Shh." It's her. A face like my own, but the perfect version. A hand like my own, but at the same time is not. A presence as majestic as the moon. "You're doing the right thing, Cynthia. Look at him. Not even a threat."
Why are you here?
"To help you, of course." Cynthia's skin burns at that touch. "You know what to do next, right?"
"Yes." Cynthia recalls Togekiss, unaware of the bird's protests. Garchomp appears in a flash of red. Red. Why is everything red?
Cyrus surveys the area one more time before setting his dazed gaze back to the glowering woman. "Do you know," he says cheerfully, "how wonderfully fragile a Time Gear is? The world is beyond saving, anyhow." He inches closer to the hallowed relic. "Enough pretending. Enough games. Let me see your spirit burn… before I snuff it out."
"The only thing that will burn is your soul!" Whose voice is that? "Garchomp, Draco Meteor!"
"GRAH?!"
"GARCHOMP!" The land dragon cowers at her shadow. "Draco Meteor. NOW!"
As if yanked by indivisible strings, Garchomp unleashes a grisly, grief-stricken howl. The ceiling rattles. The sky breaks apart, dropping giant, scorching crystalline meteors to the lake below.
BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! Water swells into tidal waves. Smoke scalds her nostrils. When the earth stops shaking, Crystal Lake has been reduced to a site of carnage.
"Tch. He's still alive. You should've silenced that Crobat when you had the chance."
Cyrus is indeed alive. And unharmed. The same can't be said for the Crobat in his arms. He stares at the bat for the longest time as his shoulders begin to tremble.
"Hehehehahaha!" Cyrus throws his head back in a horrifying, deranged laugh. "What an incredible attack! What a strong Pokemon, hahahahaha! Unlike these useless, BROKEN things! Useless! USELESS! USELESS!"
"PYOOOOOOOO! PYOOOOOO!"
"Heheheeee… And do you know what happens to broken things? Things that CAN'T be FIXED?! Observe!" Cyrus brings out his Poke Balls like he's showing all the contents of his pockets. With another high-pitch giggle, he chucks the capsules into the lake.
"PYOOOOOOOAAAAAAA!"
"Good. Give up your Pokemon. They deserve better than a crazy freak like you anyway."
Something cracks. That cry splits the heavens, uprooting veins to strike directly into hearts.
"PYAAAAAAAA!"
Mesprit's golden eyes are bulging out of its sockets. It's clutching at his chest, body thrashing about as it screams in unintelligible hysterics.
It could've been pulling its heart out.
"PYAAAAAAAHHHAAAAAAAAAA!"
Solid arms catch Cynthia before she falls. The Hero of Sinnoh smiles back, her serene face beaming with cold pride.
"What is he doing?!" What? That voice… Cynthia turns to see Shirona indicating to the distance. To Mesprit. To—
Cyrus stumbles forward, arms trembling and outstretched… brushing past the Time Gear without a second glance. "You're here at last," he croaks. Mesprit lowers its head, a shining tear trailing down its cheek, dripping to his head. "It's time to end this once and for all."
