Beyond the veil of buttery light, a moustache tugs downwards. A strong, weathered hand moves the black rook back.

"I shouldn't have taught you chess," grumbles a familiar voice.

Cyrus chuckles. "I learned everything from you, Grandfather. Checkmate."

"Again?!"

A wonderful aroma of perfectly seasoned soup wafts from the golden veil. "It's 50-49. Quit playing around and eat before the food gets cold!"

"Woman, I haven't seen my grandson in a while. Also, isn't this your first time seeing him? You'll make him fat with all your delicious food—ow!"

"If I was still alive, he wouldn't look like a walking skeleton! I'd go back there to give our daughter a piece of my mind…"

A distant wave crashes against far-off shores. Phantasmal Wingulls perch on the wooden window sill. The Shelloses of the past tucks their squishy heads under Cyrus's palm.

"You grew up to be a fine young man." Ghostly fingers caress his cheeks, tracing the contours of his cheekbones, lingering on his earlobes. "Tut tut, your ears are just like this smelly old man's… Very auspicious. You always seem to know what other people never told you."

Somewhere in the radiance, a clock hand turns. A chime echoes in the gallows of his heart.

"Oh, visiting hours are over already? You better return to the other side, Cyrus."

The hourglass on the table hasn't moved since he arrived. "We'll pick up this game when we come to pick you up, all right? For now, live life to its fullest. Smile, laugh, and cry to your heart's content."

Cyrus bows. Before he enters the light, he looks back. And he beams.

Upon awakening, Cyrus sees the wobbly ceiling fan in his room in the Old Chateau. Bloody gunk clogs his eyes.

"Cyruzzt, don't cry…"

Cyrus smiles at his old friend. "It's a new day, Rotom." A wondrous melody of life sings just outside his window. He waves to the Pokemon below. They wave back. "Let's make today count."

With Jupiter's help, Cyrus makes a fantastically simple breakfast of porridge and vegetables. The rice is overcooked, and the carrots are falling apart.

Jupiter watches him scarf down his food. "Remember to blow. You're eating as if there's no tomorrow."

"I actually made this. And it actually tastes good." To add to this lifetime achievement, his appetite yearns for more. More food to compensate for two decades of neglect.

After three heaping bowls of porridge, Cyrus releases a soft belch. "Excuse me." His stomach is so warm and full. All is right with this faulty, incomplete world.

Jupiter ruffles his hair. "Don't fall asleep on me now… unless you want me to carry you back to bed."

Cyrus painfully lifts an eyelid. "I am merely resting my eyes. Are the others back at Hearthome?"

"They're working on a special surprise for you." She winks wickedly. "You'll love it."

After he helps Jupiter clean up, Cyrus follows Rotom upstairs to investigate a local disturbance.

Said intruder turns out to be the Pokemon Professor. "Ah. Cyrus." Rowan draws himself up to an intimidating height. "Are there any outlets around here? I forgot to charge the Pokedex overnight."

"The infrastructure of the Old Chateau is too unstable to contain an electrical current." Cyrus pauses for a breather. "However, I have the necessary means to charge it for you."

Then his brain finally realizes the implications of its words. "M-My apologies, Professor. Please disregard that. Volkner should be coming soon, and I'm certain he carries portable chargers."

The Pokedex is thrusted into his hands. He stares at it. Rowan tuts impatiently. "Well? Can you charge it or not? I'll lose all my progress if it shuts down!"

"Y-Yes, sir." The machine fits perfectly in his palms. Sleek and light. The accumulation of decades of research within a handheld device… He plugs in the charger and hands Rotom the connector.

"How much juice, zzt?"

"Hmm… Give it about 20V."

Rowan is pleasantly surprised when Cyrus returns the fully-charged Pokedex. "That Rotom," muses the Professor. "Mind telling me more about it?"

"Of course not." The two leave for the patio. Cyrus speak at length about Rotom's abilities, prowess, and weaknesses. He even hauls out the appliances for a live demonstration.

There is smoke coming out of Rowan's pen after Cyrus's dissertation. "So Rotom is named after the motor-like sound it emits? Not the most creative of names, but it's memorable. Can it enter any device?"

"As long as it has a motor, then yes."

"Zzzt, just watch me!" Rotom flies into the Pokedex. A great electrical surge brings the machine to life. Bright blue eyes appear, a mouth, twin flaps that open like arms.

"Rotom!" Cyrus snaps.

"I'm the Rotomdex now, zzt! Let me give you advice you don't need!"

Rowan's moustache twitches. "I gave Cynthia her first Pokemon. I know a promising Pokemon Trainer when I see one."

Cyrus nods. "She had a great teacher. Under your guidance, she quickly rose through Badges to become the youngest Champion in Sinnoh's history!"

"So she did. Young people have so much potential." Rowan's gaze flicks to the Rotomdex. "Cyrus. Have you given thought to your future?"

Cyrus falters. Rotom senses his hesitation and hovers back to his side.

"I'll have to pay for my crimes," he says softly.

"Indeed you do." That voice belongs to a clearly false section of bushes. Looker ditches his disguise. "However, in light of all that had happened, the case might get a bit… complicated. Regardless, it's my job to ensure that everyone hears your story."

Cyrus gives a deep nod. "Thank you, Detective."

"Looker."

"I'm sorry?"

The detective joins them on the patio. "Everyone calls me Looker. Juice?"

While the men suck on the triangular cartons (the juice is nothing more than sweetened concentrate), Rowan tucks something into Cyrus's pocket. Looker leans over and whistles.

A vinyl card. "Professor Rowan, Sandgem Labs" is neatly printed in the center along with his personal contact information.

"After you pay your debt to society, come to my lab," Professor Rowan says. "I could use a bright, promising assistant for my upcoming projects."

Cyrus is too busy staring at Rowan's business card to notice the surprise tackle from behind.

"Cyrus!" Flint bellows into throbbing eardrums. "Why the long face, dude? The Plasma Boys are here to charge you up! Oh, and we want to show you the Secret Sunyshore Shake."

What follows is an intense choreography of head bashing, breakdancing, and chest pounding. Cyrus decides right then and there he would rather bleed out than be caught doing… whatever that is.

Volkner produces what looks to be the offspring of the nickel board and surfboard from his duffle bag. "I call these Volkspaddies," he proudly declares. "Patent pending of course. Solar powered. A special lithium battery produces an electromagnetic net to keep it afloat… Imagine surfing, but on air.

"They're prototypes," Flint adds.

Cyrus frowns. "And we are the test subjects."

Volkner stomps his foot. "Man, you always ruin the surprise! Worry not, I'll test it with you." He brings out a soccer ball. "That weathervane is our basket. Remember, no traveling!"

Flint holds up his hands. "What if it explodes while we're in midair?"

"What if it doesn't?" Volkner hops onto his Volkspaddy. He performs an ollie with his hands in his pockets, a lazy smirk on his face. "I loosened the axle so it'll be easier to perform tricks."

Cyrus mounts his Volkspaddy. It's quite unstable. He stumbles a bit, but he ultimately stands tall with his hands behind his back. They both glare at the only sane person in the room.

"Both y'all crazy!" Flint hisses. "Where are the helmets? The knee coverings?"

"Do you want to play or not?" Volkner snaps.

"Fine! Stupid eccentric geniuses… Can't believe I'm the babysitter…"

Once everyone is properly situated on their Volkspaddies, Volkner calls the men into a huddle. "All right, so you know how famous athletes have nicknames? I'll be Minato, he's Ronald, and you're Rick."

"My name is not remotely close to Rick," Cyrus grumbles.

"Fine, you're Patrick. End of discussion, let's PLAY!"

If an outsider was to come to the Old Chateau around noon, they would see a derelict mansion under the shady sunlight. They would see what is expected of a forest until they reach the garden, where a heated game of airborne basketball between the primary colors is taking place.

"AAH! My afro caught on fire!"

"Suck on my golden arches, Ronald!"

"Is that all you can do, Minato? Perhaps you should call yourself the Green Flash instead."

"Suck on an overhyped hamburger, Patrick."

Flint spends most of the match trying to hang on so the yellow and blue flashes won't completely dominate him. Those two have their scary game faces on, and if Flint isn't careful, he'll be knocked out of the sky.

Volkner dribbles the soccer ball while performing impressive kickflips to keep his opponents at bay. His sweater flares behind him when he swoops to the side, effectively breaking Cyrus's ankles.

"It's too dangerous to hang ten, bro!" yells Flint.

As the yellow flash shreds for the weathervane, a bolt of blue comes grinding down the roofing. At the edge of the slope, Cyrus airwalks and snatches the ball.

"PATRICK!" Volkner roars. Cyrus sticks out his pinkie, which only riles up the Gym Leader even more.

While Flint cheers from the floating sidelines, he notices an odd smell from somewhere nearby. A burning smell… coming from the black smoke underneath him.

"HELP!" Flint jumps before his Volkspaddy explodes into a plume of shrapnel. Fortunately, a cold, bony hand grabs him before he faces certain demise.

"Where are the brakes?" Cyrus barks.

Volkner gasps. "Ah, that's what I forgot!"

Deet. Deet. BOOM! The men fall down the vortex of wind—CRASH!—and ends up strewn all over the cushy stomach of a Snorlax.

Thankfully, there are no serious injuries.

"HOW COULD YOU FORGET SOMETHING AS IMPORTANT AS BRAKES?!" Flint screeches.

"Oh, like you never forgot where you last put your keys!" Volkner huffs. "Besides, can we all agree that was INSANELY FUN?!"

"That was certainly very exhilarating," Cyrus wheezes.

"Y'ALL CRAZY!"

A shadow looms over the three men. Sunlight refracts on the long, golden curtain, blinding them with sequins of light.

"Y'all have the brains of children." Cynthia smirks.

Volkner shrugs. "I believe the term you are looking for is 'man-child.'"

Cyrus shakes the leaves from his hair and sits up. "Is everyone here already, Cynthia?"

"What's happening?" says Flint.

"It's time for the meeting," Cynthia replies with a snort. "We're on a mission to save all of time, remember?"

Everyone gawks at the muddy, scratched-up Sunyshore Trio but keep their thoughts to themselves.

"W-Well," says Uxie. "If someone can translate for me, I would greatly appreciate it. Now, moving on with the plan."

Mesprit and Azelf place the five Time Gears on the table. Cynthia and Cyrus produce their Relic Keys. The stones synchronize to the blinking green light.

"We set out come dusk so we can arrive before dawn," continues Uxie. "It will be very dark, so prepare with that in mind. Do you have your Wonder Maps?

"Observe, this is where we are. We must traverse to here… the site where the Sinnoh region began."

"Mt. Coronet," Cyrus murmurs.

Mesprit nods. "In the highest point of the mountain lies the Spear Pillar, an ancient ritual shrine where magic still lingers."

"Therein lies the entrance to the Hidden Land," Azelf concludes in a breathless whisper.

Surprise sweeps the room once Cynthia relays all that to the normal folks.

"I muse see this through!" Rowan exclaims. "This ought to be an archaeological discovery of the lifetime, even greater than that of Fogbound Lake's!"

"It's my job to protect you on the way there!" Looker proclaims.

"Just stick to chaperoning," Flint snorts, and Volkner snickers.

"Mt. Coronet is a treacherous climb," Jupiter mumbles. "The snow never stops… Tch, and he doesn't have any warm clothes either…"

Suddenly, the door bursts open. "CYRUS!" Mars screams. Before said man can react, B-2 and R-8 drag him off into the kitchen.

"Is it Sunny Cy's birthday?" gasps Azelf.

"It's okay!" Saturn is yelling. "No one panic! Cyrus will be out soon!"

Cynthia stands. "What the hell is happening? You kidnapped him out of nowhe—"

Looker gasps. Heads turn to the spiky silhouette in the doorway.

It's like looking back through time. Blue hair no longer falls over his eyes; instead, it's pressed up with gel so the world can see his face. A familiar vest sits above his weird pajama-like shirt… And on the left breast… shines the golden "G."

While the rest of the room holds its breath, Mars can barely contain her excitement. "I made this myself! Now he can save the world in style!"

But Cyrus looks more horrified than joyous to be back in his old uniform.

"I think you look great," Cynthia says. "Galactic might've been disbanded, but no one said you can't bounce back to make it a legitimate business. Also, the funky space cadet uniforms are kinda cute."

Cyrus stares at her. Everyone stares at him. He clears his throat, smooths his vest, and marches over to his seat where he pointedly ignores comments about the redness of his ears.

Mesprit snickers. "Way to boost his self-image, Cynthia."

"I want a stupid vest like that," Volkner grumbles.

Uxie draws everyone's attentions back to the matter at hand. "Anyhow! I cannot stress the importance of distinguishing Reviver from Reviser Seeds—"

Cyrus shoots up so suddenly that his chair falls over.

"What is it now?" Uxie groans.

"Something is… amiss." Cyrus is clutching the golden "G" as he glances around. Then he's sprinting to the double doors.

A cacophony of cries resounds from the chaos outside. Starlies are scrambling to the skies. Phantumps are leaving their trees in masses.

It's as if the Pokemon are all running away from something in the distance.

"Look!" Mars points to the clear blue skies. Bands of saturated grey fizzle underneath the azure pigment. The gales pick up, yet the white lilies stand still.

The three Lake Guardians exchange a sober glance. "The paralysis has reached Eterna Forest," Azelf murmurs. "Humans, we need to leave. Now!"

Only when all is safely in the clouds does Cyrus look back. Time is indeed stopping before his very eyes. He sees the exact moment chlorophyll turns grey. He hears Eterna Forest exhaling one last sigh before it gets swept under the current of frozen time.

That place was his second home. His haven. The place where he woke up to strangers, where he lumbered around on that wheelchair before transitioning to crutches. On that stormy night, he almost died on the roof. The once colorful garden was a testament on how Pokemon and humans can work together towards a common goal.

It was at the Old Chateau where he met his childhood friend again. Where he met his family, where he met those people that grew up with him… Why, they played with the Volkspaddies only hours ago!

His heart never felt this heavy when he left his hometown of Sunyshore.

A warm hand squeezes his shoulder. "This is just a temporary setback," says Cynthia. "After this is all over, we'll officially declare the Old Chateau a historical monument."

Cyrus smiles. Dusk fades to nightfall as they soar into the darkening skies. He pretends that his hands are a telescope while snippets of surrounding chatter drift in and out of earshot.

"Cyrus."

He turns to meet Uxie's closed eyelids. The Pokemon hesitates before speaking. "When you absorbed Mesprit's powers… you gained the ability to use Future Sight. What exactly did you see when you glimpsed into the future?"

Honchkrow's eyes flicker upwards. Up ahead, Mesprit and Azelf are talking with Cynthia. Cyrus lowers his voice. "I saw two futures."

"Two?"

"Yes. The first future was one fallen to darkness. Life as we know it had ceased to exist." He can feel the chill raking up and down his heart. "In the distance was the ruined tower. A mad god presided over the paralyzed planet with an iron fist.

"Yet, the second future was one bathed in light. I saw the tower, now whole again. The wind was blowing; the sun was rising…" His heart flutters. "Gracidea flowers were blossoming as if spring had come."

Uxie absorbs all that with a furrowed brow. "I see… Since you saw two futures, our actions can still shape what is to come."

Then its face darkens. "Cyrus, this is important: In the good ending, who did you see?" There is an urgency in that harmless question. An edge that is very off-putting to say the least.

"I saw Cynthia," he murmurs. "She was walking down a path within the clouds… into a storm of pink flowers."

"Did you see yourself?"

Cyrus stares at Uxie. "Why are you asking this?"

A pink head pops into the heavy silence. "Whatcha whispering about?" Mesprit chirps. "Aw, is Cyrus finally growing on you, Uxie?"

"Oh, hush you."

But before Uxie joins its siblings, it gives an unreadable glance over its shoulder. "Pay me no mind, Cyrus. I pray I am merely overthinking things again."