The dust never settles. A plume of debris remains suspended over Northern Desert like some post-apocalyptic scene. Color has been leeched from the surrounding area, and even the once golden sands are now grey under the dulled sunlight.

Azelf peeks out from behind its tails. "Oh. Well, it's not like I'll miss that prison. Cynthia, do you have the Time Gear?"

"Yes, it's right…" Cynthia freezes. Her palms dance furiously down her empty coat. Then she happens to turn around. "Oh… Thanks for catching it, Cyrus. I'll take it now."

Ghastly green light reflects in Cyrus's unreadable eyes. Prying that relic from him is like stealing an heirloom from a corpse after rigor mortis sets in.

"Cyrus." Cynthia speaks his name slowly and deliberately in case his brain suddenly decided to take a vacation. "Let go. Now."

And with a POP! the Time Gear is freed from his earth-shattering grip.

"Why are you two arguing over a rock?" asks a genuinely curious Azelf. "Sharing is caring."

"Your siblings don't tell you everything, do they?"

"They always argue. I don't want to be a part of their mind versus heart debate."

While Cynthia bonds with Azelf, Cyrus peels himself off the ground. He glares at his crutches, brows furrowing at the Sunyshore Beacon logo emblazoned on the aluminum shaft.

Cynthia turns. "Cyrus, let me help you on Togekiss…" But he's already sitting on his Honchkrow's back, waiting with his head down and his hands clearly visible on his laps.

"Cyrus?"

No reply.

"This human appears to be unwell," Azelf notes. "Does it hurt on the outside or from within? Is the pain in your mind or your heart?"

Cyrus stiffens. His lips part for chilled air to come out. And then he's trembling as if he's in the middle of a frigid blizzard.

"We need to go." Cynthia swings herself over Togekiss. The white bird glances at the black crow, who curls its beak in response. "Hang in there, Cyrus. We'll get someone to look at you when we get back."

A red cannonball bursts out the door before Cynthia can lay a finger on the handle.

"Happy Birthday!" Mars exclaims. "Just kidding! It's not anyone's birthday, but we do have cake!"

For the first time in five hundred years, the haunted mansion is occupied with living, flesh-and-blood humans. A colorful banner is strewn across the ceiling with a belated, "It's a boy!"

"They don't sell a 'Good luck on saving the world,' banner," B-2 explains. "But we still wanted to let y'all know that we appreciate you."

Two arms swing around her shoulders. A monotone says, "It was this clown's idea."

"Hey hey, who was it that rushed to get the beer? I just suggested a little celebration. The old man heard about it and brought cake."

Professor Rowan waves from the dining table. "You can't ride your bicycle indoors, but there's always a time and place for cake. I brought chocolate, taro, matcha, and cheesecake… For the love of Arceus, Booker, save some for the youngsters too."

Looker stiffens. "Urp! Uh… T-They brought cake while I was waiting for you two. Did you find the Time Gear?"

"Nooo. We just came back for cake."

Jupiter stops Cynthia before she can help herself. "Where's Cyrus?"

Oh shoot. Cynthia rushes back to the foyer. There he is, frozen outside the doorway of his own mansion. Cyrus cringes when she nears, and in his panic, he takes a nasty fall on his hip.

The music immediately stops.

"Cyrus!" cries Saturn. "Are you—"

Cyrus flinches at the younger man's touch. The former's mouth is open, yet again no sound can be heard. R-8 comes with a stethoscope, but that only appears to agitate Cyrus even more. He brandishes the crutches like a shield.

"I think he has a fever from excess heat exposure," Cynthia mutters. I told him to wait in the shade but noooo. Idiot has to make it difficult for himself every time. In fact, said bonehead is shivering again even as beads of sweat roll down his forehead.

"Is he okay?" Flint grunts. "Dude, you need us to help you up?"

To answer that, Cyrus scrambles to his feet. Rotom brings him an old notebook; and with a swift swipe of his black quill pen, he shows the gaping onlookers a simple message:

"I feel it is best if I retire early for the evening. I do apologize for the inconvenience. Please enjoy your cake."

As Cyrus wobbles up the stairs, Mars calls out, "Do you want us to save you some cake? No? Okay, I'll eat your portion for you!"

Jupiter pulls Cynthia aside. "I don't know," the Champion blurts. "He was sweating up a storm back at Northern Desert. And he was hallucinating." There are still fingernail marks on her skin where he grabbed her wrist.

"I'm going to check on him."

"Saturn, wait," says R-8. "It's best to let Cyrus rest now. We'll bring him some cake later to raise his blood glucose level later."

While the humans mumble among themselves, Azelf joins an amused Rowan at the table. The professor notices its ogling and serves it a decent slice of cake.

"Oooh… this is wonderful!" Azelf squeals. "Sometimes I wish I was a human, but then I remember how living as Pokemon is a much simpler life. Uxie, why does this human have white fur on its face?"

"That is a beard, Azelf. Now cease eating and listen—"

"Where is big sister? Does she not want to see Sunny Cy again?"

"I told you why she cannot come!"

"Pssh. You two never tell me anything important."

Uxie scowls. Azelf simply returns to stuffing its face with taro.

After the party dies down, everyone assembles to the foyer.

Cynthia takes a sip of water and begins. "So. This is Uxie, Guardian of Knowledge. This is Azelf, Guardian of Willpower."

Rowan raises a bushy brow. "In all my sixty years, this is the second time I've seen a mythical Pokemon."

Azelf blushes. "You flatter me. If humans lived as long as us, they'd see all the Pokemon in the world."

Cynthia clears her throat. "Anyway, now that we have a Time Gear in our possession, Charon might be alert to our motives. That's why we plan to obtain the last four Time Gears as soon as we can."

Flint leans over to his best friend. "This is so cool, Volks. You're not sleeping for once, and we're actually witnessing history in the making! And that Pokemon is talking—ow! My stomach!"

Looker raises his hand. "I don't want to be that person, but once you take all five Time Gears, wouldn't that only speed up the Planet's Paralysis?"

"The paralysis is already spreading," says Uxie. "We must accept setbacks to make progress. Without the Time Gears, Cynthia and Cyrus cannot restore the flow of time before darkness swallows the sky."

Cynthia shudders. "Arceus… Uxie, you could at least lighten up…"

"The paralysis has already reached Fogbound Lake." Uxie deposits the second Time Gear on the table. "Time is not on our side. Cynthia, if you trust these humans, perhaps you can ask them to aid our cause."

Cynthia nods. "Everyone, we need your help. There's only one of Cyrus and me. Do you mind—"

Volkner flaps his lips loudly. "Me and Flint got Mystifying Forest. We'll be in and out like a streak of plasma."

"R-8 and I can take Treeshroud Forest," B-2 says. "You three should stay with Cyrus. He needs you now more than ever." Jupiter clicks her tongue but otherwise looks content. Mars bobs her head. Saturn clutches his ProTeam Omega robot while determination blazes in his eyes.

"I'll stay here with the professor," says Looker. "The Old Chateau will the base for… for Operation DAWN!"

Cynthia snickers. Looker deflates. "Oh no," she says. "That name just reminds me of something. It's really fitting."

"It is," adds Azelf. "The gate to the Hidden Land can only be opened at dawn, when the Red Sunstone and White Moonstone are presented at the same time."

"Wow…"

"Indeed." A shy Uxie slowly accepts a slice of cheesecake from the professor. "Egads, my mouth aches from this saccharine concoction. Anyhow, I will let Mespirt know to bring her Time Gear to the Old Chateau. Once we all reconvene, the three of us will accompany the two of you to Temporal Tower."

Rowan raises a plate of cake. "To everyone's success!"

"CHEERS!"

Cyrus takes advantage of that resounding cry to shut the door. Never before in his life has he been this terrified of the impending future.

"Cryzzt, are you cold, zzt? You don't-zzt-look so hot."

"Why?"

"Eh?"

And Cyrus explodes. "Why did you not tell me you were there in my prison cell? It wasn't Grandfather that came back, but you, Rotom! You and that rat had to interfere with my plans!

"I trusted you, Rotom! Why didn't you tell me earlier instead of letting me act like a mindless fool? Why did you remain silent while I played into the hands of my jailers?!"

A deafening silence follows that outburst. Then Rotom scowls. It jabs an axis into his nose and snaps, "Yeah, let me just remind Cyruzzt how he threw himself off the cliff while Crobat, Honchkrow, Gyarados, and Weavile watched, zzt! It's not like Rotom had nightmares about Cyruzzt hurting himself again and again while we just STAND BACK AND WATCH!"

Cyrus flinches. Rotom drops its voice. "Cyruzzt looked so happier without his memories, zzt… Cyruzzt smiled… Cyruzzt laughed… it made us Pokemon happy too. We don't-zzt-want you to use the rain to mask your tears like you did that night, zzt…"

Those vacuous sentimentalities sink into his skull like a much-needed slap across the cheeks. Cyrus slumps back with his face buried in his sleeves. His exhausted heart wishes to return to sleep, but his cold, rational mind knows better than to rely on a fleeting dream.

Tmp. Footsteps. Cyrus dives for his bed, throws the covers over his head, and lies as still as possible when the door opens.

"Hey. You sleeping already? Who's going to make me juice?"

"Volks, let him sleep. Remember when I woke you when you took a nap on my TV? My hip still hurts, dude!"

Those two… They chose now of all times to come. All those foolish things I've said… they were judging me the whole time, weren't they? Those false pretenses were just a ruse to win my trust. They came to drag me back to Sunyshore… to punish me in front of everyone because I am the perversion of the city's righteous prestige…

Don't look at me. Don't come any closer. Leave me alone! GO AWAY! The tremors are rocking his shoulders, but with enough berating and threats, his body finally understands what will happen if it messes up again.

"Fine," says Volkner. "Don't wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Cyrus."

"See ya, Cy!"

The door closes. Cyrus lurches to the side and vomits into a waiting bucket. He feels horrible. Disgusting. How dare he meddle into an existing friendship—

The doorknob jiggles again. Cyrus shoves the bloody bucket under the bed and retreats back into his covers.

"Cyrus?" Jupiter's sickeningly gentle voice squeezes his already exhausted chest. Even under all these blankets, he's not impervious to her kicking him away like a piece of trash. Her footsteps come closer, a shadow falls over his head…

"Hey, zzt!"

And all the relief in the world escapes through his mouth in a strangled wheeze. Just a little more and… even he isn't sure what will happen.

"What's wrong with Rotom?" says Saturn. "It's yelling at us… is there something wrong with Cyrus?"

"CAKE, ZZT! HUMANZZT NEED THEIR CAKE! GO EAT CAKE, ZZT!"

Mars yelps. "Ow! Crobat, you meanie, I don't have any cake for you! Stop biting my finger!"

"Quiet down," says Jupiter. "Mars, Saturn, come on. Rotom, make sure Cyrus eats his soup when he wakes up, okay?"

"Yeah, now go away!"

The door finally closes.

Cyrus recoils when Honchkrow peels the covers away. His eyeballs are stinging as if someone had stabbed them repeatedly with a needle. His throat had painfully contracted to not allow even the faintest of whimpers to escape.

Just like back then.

Crobat wraps its trembling Trainer into its body, muttering comforting sounds as it strokes his hair. The gentle drumming of its heartbeat slowly but effectively calms his raw nerves. Once Cyrus ascertains that his world won't be caving in anytime soon, the Old Chateau feels safe once again.

Cyrus's turbulent mind refuses to quiet down even when dusk falls to night. A shooting star brings his attention to the window, where a new moon sits amidst a sea of stars.

Weavile returns with some water from the washroom, which Cyrus gladly drinks. The constriction around his throat loosens. Nevertheless, he remains in curled up in the corner of the room until the pain in his chest ebbs away.

"I'm all right," Cyrus assures the clingy Crobat. His stomach growls. "No, I don't want that soup. Just help me up."

The hallway is empty. No curious shadows, no dark spirit with spiked wings and a red chain dangling around its neck waiting outside his room. If that spirit was still there, it would invite him to play in the garden. Perhaps take another midnight flight across the Sinnoh region.

Cyrus presses a palm against his beating chest. "All along, you have always been by my side. I just never acknowledged you." He closes his eyes, listening to the irregular rhythm of his heartbeat. B-dup. B-dup. Mesprit, how do I know if my heart is still weeping?

"What should I do now?" he mutters. "The Champion and the detective wants to throw me back into prison. Those two from Sunyshore want to haul me back to that forsaken place to face justice…" His voice hitches. "I've already surrendered my fortune to Charon, but still he sends his team to keep me in line…"

Cyrus glides his hand along his scalp. A shock runs down his spine when fingers brush against the cracked silicone chip, already deeply wedged in there to safely remove.

A terrifying thought flashes through his brain: The white noise hasn't died down. Saturn hasn't disposed of that mind-control remote yet.

In other words, if Cyrus isn't careful, he'll be silenced for good.

"What should I do?" he whispers to the darkness. "Grandfather, I'm so lost… I'm so scared… Should I run and hide like a coward? Should I hold my chin high and accept punishment? Or should I just… give up?"

A passing breeze deposits something onto his head. A fragile white lily. The same one he'd gifted that dark spirit as a gesture of acceptance.

"The future is not set in stone," the darkness of his heart once said. "Don't lose sight of who you are, Cyrus. Be all that you can become."

"Be all that I can become…" Cyrus stares at his hands. Then he straightens. In the dark of the night, he stumbles down the fourth floor corridor until he reaches that broken balcony. A cold wind whips his hair. Enough thinking. Enough being paralyzed by fear of the unknown future. If I don't try, I'll get nowhere.

Cyrus turns back to his Pokemon. "From this point on, there will be no going back. If you wish to remain by my side, all I'm asking from you is your trust. If there's even the slightest hint of doubt in your heart, I will gladly set you free, and you will never hear from me again. Please choose wisely."

Crobat, Honchkrow, Gyarados, and Weavile give their final answer. Cyrus bows his head. "Thank you for trusting me. And everyone else in the Old Chateau, thank you for welcoming me as your guest. Maybe we'll meet again under different circumstances."

Rotom shoves through the crowd of Ghost Pokemon. "Hey-zzt-what about me? I waited-zzt-forever to see you again! You can't just leave me behind again!"

"You are a wild Pokemon," Cyrus says gently.

"Who named me then, huh? Besides, besties travel together! I'll be a hot addition to any team, zzt!"

Cyrus inhales sharply. "Rotom, I cannot—"

"Waah, but I already prepared for this very moment!" A dusty Ultra Ball is thrown into his hands. "I want to travel in style, zzt!"

"It's too dangerous—"

"PLEASE LET ROTOM JOIN YOUR TEAAAAM!"

Cyrus frowns. The crowd is chuckling. Then he sighs and pockets the Ultra Ball, and everyone bursts into applause while Rotom bursts into tears.

With that, Cyrus sets his sight to the twinkling galaxy above. "All right then. It's time to finish what I started."