POV: Cyrus / LOCATION: ?

"MESPRIT!"

Alas, sound rips from my collapsed throat as a guttural howl. Over and over I curse its name, my cries growing more distorted until what reaches my ears fail to resemble anything human.

Yet before I can exact my revenge, I break apart. First my wrists detach. My arms. My torso. As my head rolls across the crystals, I have a perfect view of my limbs crumbling like a burning effigy.

What in the world happened to me?

Largely unbothered by this macabre scene, Mesprit picks my decapitated head.

"I've never seen such a frailer soul," it says.

"I'LL KILL YOU!"

"The more you allow these negative emotions into your heart, the quicker it'll corrupt your soul until you're nothing like you once were."

"ENOUGH OF YOUR BLATHERING! UNHAND ME AT ONCE!"

"Too bad. I got my paws over every itty bitty shard of your soul."

Mesprit then turns my head around. There, floating a shallow pond, is a shipwreck of stained glass. Or what has the properties of glass. Color has faded, and cracks mar every surface, rendering those pieces unfixable.

"A human soul is like a mirror," Mesprit says. "Shine it, and it'll glow. Neglect it, and it'll swallow your reflection. Once you drop that mirror, it's impossible to put it back to how it once was."

"What nonsense are you spouting?" I hiss. "What more did you do to my body?!"

"Your body was torn asunder by the sea! I salvaged what I could of your soul!"

Memory returns in vivid flashes of lightning. As I lay dying, my limbs were pulled apart by the ravenous currents. While saltwater distended my stomach, the pale pink streaks of dawn kissed my charred cheeks. Told me that the storm would pass. Promised me the sun would rise again.

At once, fury dispels from my heart. Without anger, I am empty. Cold. Scared.

Mesprit gently pieces me back together. I watch, head hung, as it presents a bleached red shard. Within that fragment is a memory. One that quickly turns black and disintegrates to ashes.

"You hold immense hatred in your heart, Cyrus."

Despite my pathetic state, I afford myself a dry smirk. "That's how I've kept sane for so long."

Mesprit gives me a long, pained look. "Hatred corrupts the heart. Why do you loathe yourself so?"

"Why not? I did the whole world a favor that night."

"How can you say that like it's nothing? Cyrus, you only lived so you could torment yourself. An existence rooted in self-punishment… you were killing yourself a little bit each day."

I merely sag against the wall, inhaling the scentless fragrance of Crystal Cave. The lapping of water licks against my ruptured eardrums. A large stream spreads into rivulets, currents flowing both with and against gravity.

Fat, translucent tears trickle down Mesprit's cheeks. "Oh, Cyrus… We both mourn for you. Me and your weeping heart."

"I never asked for pity," I state flatly. "Nor salvation. Not from you. Not from my weak and incomplete heart."

"Because you don't deserve it."

"No, I don't. So please, send me to hell already."

Mouth pursed, Mesprit fidgets with its fan-like tails. "What about your Pokemon?"

Something slams against my ribcage, suddenly cutting off my breath. "W-What about them? They're free. I'm dead. End of story."

"Do you know where they are?"

"I couldn't care less."

"They made you a grave in Eterna Forest."

So they're safe.

Wait.

"A grave?" I echo. "For me? W-Why?"

"You know why."

Because we're family.

That pain sparks again. A trembling in my bosom. A faint cry.

My Pokemon. They tried to save me from my fate—and failed at heaven's intervention. They screamed my name as I fell to my death. After all that, they haven't forgotten about me.

Because they gave me a funeral.

"Ah… A-Ah…"

I miss them. I miss them so dearly that I fall to my knees in grief. This pain in my heart is immeasurable, far surpassing the agony of Draco Meteor crushing every bone in my body.

What's wrong with me?

"Nothing," Mesprit says softly. "You care, Cyrus. You've always did. But you've suppressed your emotions for so long that—"

"Shut up SHUT UP! I'd rather be strangulated than forced to endure your spiritual nonsense! Who the hell would want to feel this way?!"

"It's part of being human."

"It's part of the faults of this world!" I screech. "Without these ugly, undesirable emotions, we wouldn't envy our closest friends! Families wouldn't fight, and homes wouldn't fall apart! Children would grow up without being afraid that people they love would leave without warning!"

My shoulders are trembling. Blood leaks into my lips.

Then my voice cracks. "Of all things, you should understand. You're the Guardian of Emotion. Why would you allow sorrow to coexist with joy?"

For once, Mesprit lacks an immediate answer. It gives me a furtive sideways glance, mouth pursed. Whatever flimsy explanation is lost in translation.

"I only wanted a perfect world," I continue softly, more to myself than anyone here. "Yet time and time again, I was stopped by those who are deemed far superior than me. I was belittled, disparaged, locked away like a monster. Why was everyone against me? I only wanted to help…"

A tender paw presses against my cheek, inclining my head up to meet that Pokemon's melancholy smile. "Your ambitions would've killed everything that was loved and cherished. In a world stripped of spirit, could anyone be happy?"

"But they wouldn't be sad."

"Life does not exist in a dichotomy of black and white, Cyrus."

The fire finally snuffs from my soul. Without anything fueling my ambitions, I make myself as small as possible to keep my flickering ideal safe from the harsh winds of truth. But no matter how tightly I curl inwards, I cannot escape from this all-devouring coldness.

Who am I without my goal? An insignificant, dying star lost in a spiraling galaxy.

Mesprit sits beside me. Squeezes my hand.

"Since you can't leave here, and I can't leave you alone, I propose that we get to know each other better. I have all the time in the world, Cyrus. I'll hear your story."