Cyrus was four when he had his first brush with death. He'd carelessly let the wind nab his report card, the first one he'd gotten with full marks. It was a blustery day. The Shelloses saved him from drowning, but he failed to retrieve that invaluable piece of proof.

His second visit came at the age of seven when a fever sent him to the hospital. The old man who remained by his bedside constantly berated the boy on his carelessness. It was just a mild cold though… something he could walk off like all those other ones.

His third time happened in their special place. If not for the Pokemon, Cyrus would have waited in that flooding cave until the tides dragged him under. He almost died for someone who would never come back.

His fourth time came when he returned to Sunyshore with his newly attained doctoral degree. But that one precious person, the only reason he came home, was long gone. His weak, defunct heart acted up, sending Cyrus once again to the hospital. There was nothing left in this place, so why stay?

Cyrus's lost years began in the city of canals. There he met a young man his age, an annoyingly compassionate one who never hesitated to share his food. Then came a university undergraduate who gave Cyrus his first library card. But tragedy always struck those who were close to him, so after Cyrus fixed his mistake, he left.

His sixth brush with death happened in the city surrounded by snow. Cyrus had to run back into the blizzard for a lost item. A kind masked man saved him from a frozen fate. A perky, upcoming priestess stood up for him, and Cyrus repaid her by betraying her and her people for a beast who clawed his eye out.

Years blurred together like a distorted camera lens until Cyrus reached the city of the Great Marsh. During a rainy evening, he had the pleasure of being robbed at knifepoint. In a strange twist of events, he ended up saving the life of that child who almost slit his throat.

It was raining when Cyrus saw the girl in the town of flowers. What was she doing in Sinnoh, so far from home? Her parents never came back, whoever they might be. Cyrus should've left her behind as well. He should've.

When rain fell on the city of glitz and glamour, the people went in, and the ghosts came out. This place connected major routes as well as people, and it was at this crossroad of Sinnoh that Cyrus encountered that woman. She told him many things, things he'd only ever dreamt of hearing since childhood. She was the one who turned an ideal into reality.

After so many years of wandering, Cyrus called the city of stone his home. People looked up to him now. People entrusted their lives into his hands.

That was his first big mistake: He was content. He was attached. He was trapped within a web of tangled destinies.

His second costly mistake was when he welcomed her back into his life. It was none other than Cyrus himself who jeopardized everything he worked so hard for. A fatal error that ended with his near death by flaming meteors.

His throne had toppled. His status, his reputation that he'd slaved away to maintain, stripped away within the blink of an eye. His capital, gone; his name spat on and stomped into the dirt.

But the straw that broke the Numel's back came when those people finally saw him for the monster that he was. If they meant so little to him—and they did!—that shouldn't explain why his heart felt like it was breaking in two.

In the end, the pain finally went away after he accepted the sea's hauntingly enticing embrace.

Bits and bits of his life flash before his eyes as Uxie tightens its hold around his neck. At that moment, all Cyrus sees is red. All he smells is blood, and all he wants to revenge.

"YOu Can'T mAKE Me gO BAcK thErE!" Cyrus screeches. "I HATE tHEm ThEy HATE mE I HATE MysELf LET ME GoOoOOOOAAAAHAHHHH!" What comes out however, are only warbled cries. Disturbing sounds stripped of anything that resembles human speech.

"Begone, evil spirit! Relinquish your temptation from this child's heart!"

"AAAAAAHHHHH!"

"Uxie, be careful you don't destroy his heart—"

Uxie's eyes are the most dreadful thing one can experience in their lifetime. Pure, untarnished light floods into his body, eradicating all darkness it touches. Light robs his last breath before it shreds his very existence apart.

"Wake up, Cyrus!"

"Beeeeeeeep…"

"Beeeeep… Beep…"

"Beep. Beep. Beep."

Cyrus wakes to the harsh luminescence of the evening light. Red sunlight trickles down the rotting window sill, its warm failing to register on his cheek.

There's a needle in his arm, connected to an IV drip near his head. Tubes poking out from under a thin blanket. He's hooked to a respirator. And every inch of his body is wrapped tight in bandages.

It's not the hospital, but a room falling into disrepair: peeling walls, cracked floorboards… and fresh pink flowers strewn about as if one had decorated a grave.

There are voices, warbling in and out of earshot. Cyrus tests his fingers. With a heavy grunt, he pushes himself up. He shouldn't have done that: the surging tides of pain almost renders him unconscious again.

"Cy… us! Cyru…"

Someone holds something pleasantly cool to his cracked lips. Cyrus greedily inhales the liquid—and subsequently vomits it all out with whatever contents were left in his empty stomach.

"Mas…"

"Cy…"

Cyrus retches until the numbness reaches his brain. Somewhere along the line he tastes blood, but then everything mixes into a bitter, sour concoction on his tongue.

The world is so unstable that Cyrus collapses back on the bed. He can't feel his chest. He can't feel his legs.

"Master Cyrus!"

Master Cyrus? He finds that extremely hilarious for some unfathomable reason. In fact, it's so funny that he coughs out blood when he laughs.

Something leathery brushes against his cheekbone. A bat with four wings. A crow and a cat. There's even a serpent staring back from beyond the broken window. At his immediate side is a glowing ball of electricity. Fortunately, these monsters don't appear to be hostile.

A warm hand cups his hollow cheeks. That tall woman is handling him as though he was made of glass. "Can you hear me? Blink once if you can."

Cyrus blinks twice.

"Jupiter, let me talk to him."

Sunlight parts for her eminence's presence. The radiant light sweeps down on his bedside. With the evening sun glaring in, her golden hair glows like a halo of fire.

It's so bright.

"Cyrus," she says. The way she speaks his name stirs a deeply unsettling sensation from within. Her hands, smooth and unblemished, brushes over his rougher, calloused ones. She's squeezing his hands, but it feels as if she's squeezing his throat.

Their gazes meet. His eyes shoot down to the cave of her chin. She smiles. "Good morning, sunshine. A good night's rest really does wonders for your skin."

How long did I sleep?

"I don't know what Uxie did, but you're back now, Cyrus. Y-You gave us quite a scare, you know… D-Don't do that again!" She's hurting him now. She's holding on too tightly. "Anyway, Mars brought cake, but… I think you should start out with liquid foods to replenish your electrolytes."

How thoughtful. A young man presents a cup of warm water, which Cyrus graciously accepts. The warmth sloshes down his ravaged throat, washing away this taste of seawater in his mouth.

Cyrus leans back in the pillow. He has to reach for his voice from the bottom of the well. "Thank you… Thank you for your kindness. How can I make it up to you?"

The woman with golden hair shoots him this really weird look. "Huh? Cyrus, are you still loopy from the painkillers? Maybe you do need the cake…"

Cyrus tilts his head with the faintest of smiles on his lips. "My head is clear now, I assure you. I must've put you through a great deal of inconvenience… May I have your name? I wish to thank you properly."

Now she's gawking at him as if he's some delusional lunatic that just escaped from the psychiatric ward. "Cyrus… What color is the sky right now?"

"Judging from the sun's position in the sky, it should be dusk right now… Ah. Am I making you uncomfortable? I'm sorry." Cyrus tries to move, to get out of her sight, but his legs feel like cement poles.

"It's Cynthia. Okay, now stop fucking around."

"Cynthia?"

"W-What?"

Cyrus smiles. "That's a wonderful name. 'Cynthia,' like the moon."