Ch.45: A Shadow of the Past! Blood Feud of the Ravenfields Pt.3!
"Wakey, wakey, my king~!"
The Shadow King roused from his deep slumber as someone continuously patted his cheek like the gentle drumming of a bongo. He opened his eyes slowly, flinching at the overhead light shining down on the operating table. The first face he saw was his very surgeon himself, Aeternus/Puck.
Aeternus leaned on the operating table and beamed devilishly. "Did you enjoy your nap, my king?"
The Shadow King tilted his head and glared at Aeternus. Though not an unusual sight to see on his herald, it did concern him that Aeternus had large bloodstains on the medical smock he was using. The bloodied tools sitting in view didn't paint the best picture of how Aeternus went about performing the medical procedure. He wondered if Aeternus studied medicine in the last five hundred years only to remind himself that Aeternus would rather figure it out for himself and learn along the way. Five hundred years of practice (and a myriad of deaths, no doubt) to perform what may be his magnum opus.
The Shadow King could only offer a clogged grunt in response.
Aeternus closed his eyes and smiled cheerfully—as cheerfully as you can call it for the mad clown. "I'm glad. The surgery was a complete success. You'll find some odd changes and differences to your overall movement, but you'll find in time that you can move with far greater efficiency than you ever had. I did the best I could to improve your body. It doesn't possess your full strength quite yet, but you may be able to draw it out with enough time and practice."
The Shadow King sat up and massaged his throat. "How…long was…out?"
"Almost the entire day. It's late in the night outside my dimension." Aeternus rolled over to his worktable. "I've had a lot to think about during your surgery. So much to plan for. We still need to find Voss and the keys. And we can't forget our little traitor friend, Callista. Oh, I'm going to have some words for her." Aeternus smirked deviously. "So many…painful words."
The Shadow King glared, then hugged his legs against his chest. He breathed a deep sigh and looked up at the ceiling. "I…also had time…thinking."
"I don't blame you. Must've been boring deep down in that mind palace of yours," Aeternus said, scribbling notes down on a clipboard.
"…My name."
"What about it?"
"I am…the shadow of…Apollo. That pain. Am I…or am I not?"
Aeternus shrugged. "Makes no difference to me what you call yourself. You're still my king, and that's all that matters. Besides, for you to be the original shadow, you and Apollo are one in the same. He birthed the concept of grudges taking form after death. You could say he's the God of Shadows, and you're the arbiter speaking on his behalf." Aeternus smirked. "Fun times down there in your memories?"
The Shadow King narrowed his eyes and looked down at the floor. "I…felt…" He dug his fingers into his arm. "Something."
Aeternus stared at his king quietly, then chuckled. "You should be able to walk now. Get some fresh air. Get use to your new body. You'll need the exercise. I'm going to be pushing that body to the limit so you're ready to vanquish your enemies."
The Shadow King closed his eyes, then nodded. "Yes. Of course." He slid off the operation table, giving his shoulders a good rotation. "I need to…clear head. Understand…these emotions."
Aeternus laughed. "The Shadow King has emotions? Must've been some pretty horrible stuff." Aeternus' eyes glowed red with mischief. "So, which emotion is it? Sadness? Joy? Nostalgia?"
The Shadow King clenched his fists, then walked past Aeternus toward the door. He breathed a dark vapor from his mouth, then pushed the doors open with a loud shove.
"Betrayal."
With the sun risen, Apollo finished up making a homemade lunch for himself and Dougal. They were aiming to master the transmutation spell Dougal was gunning for, especially since Apollo really wanted free gold to provide for his family. He would have to explain where he got the gold, but Apollo hoped the prospect of riches outweighed questions of acquirement.
His siblings, three Monferno and two Chimchar, rummaged around the house, getting ready to start their morning chores. One of the Monferno saw Apollo packing up and asked, "Going out to see your friend, big brother?"
Apollo nodded. "Yeah. I might be a little late tonight, so you all will have to handle taking care of dinner."
A female Chimchar pouted. "Are you sure you're not being lazy? We never met this friend of yours. I bet you're being lazy!"
Apollo rolled his eyes good-naturedly before closing his bag. "My friend doesn't like a whole lot of company. I doubt he'll ever want to introduce himself."
An older Monferno sighed. "Whatever. Just don't be too late. We still need to harvest the north orchard before winter. We need all hands on deck."
Apollo chuckled and swung his bag over his shoulder. "And I thought I was the bossy one when I was your age." Apollo ruffled his brother's head, then headed for the door. "You runts stay out of trouble. Oh, and I made some juice. Help yourselves to it if you want—"
"Kids!"
Apollo and his siblings froze as their mother came rushing through the door, breathing heavily. Her eyes were wide with vacant disbelief, as if she saw a sight too horrifying to believe. She looked faint, close to collapsing in front of them.
"Ma!" Apollo dropped his bag and caught his mother in time. "Ma, are you okay?"
"I'll get some water!" one of his siblings said, running off to the kitchen.
Apollo and two of his Monferno siblings escorted their mother to the couch and sat her down. The female Chimchar returned with a glass of water, which their mother took in her hands with a tight grip. Any tighter and the glass would shatter.
"Ma?" Apollo touched the elder Infernape's shoulder. "Ma, what happened? Did someone hurt you?"
Ma shook her head emptily. "I…I was in town buying groceries. I overheard a commotion and…" She dropped the glass and broke down, sobbing into her hands. "It was horrible! Dreadful! Disgusting! Wretched!"
"Ma, what happened?" Apollo asked firmly.
Ma looked up at her eldest in concern. "The head priests of the church. They were found slaughtered through the streets."
Apollo and his siblings' eyes widened. "S-Slaughter?!" Apollo gasped.
"Had I known what was going on, I wouldn't have seen for myself. Oh Arceus, it was horrible. I've never seen so much blood and guts…oh, I'm feeling faint again."
Apollo grabbed her arms and kept her upright. "Someone murdered all the head priests?"
"News spread quickly throughout the village. I can't even describe how some of them happened. There were…wild rumors spreading around instantly. Horrific deaths of all kinds, some more unbelievable than the last. I…don't know what to believe anymore. How can anyone be so cruel?" Ma sobbed into her arms, prompting her younger children to corral and comfort her.
Apollo furrowed his brow and stroked his chin in thought. "If all the head priests were killed, that means…" His eyes widened. "The Hepburns."
His younger Monferno brother looked at him oddly. "What about the Hepburns?"
"They work for the church, too. Oh Arceus, Dougal! He said he was going home yesterday!" Apollo scrambled to the front door.
"Wait, Dougal Hepburn?! What are you—"
Apollo ignored his brother's outcry as he slammed the door open with his shoulder and ran down the farm path, flames spewing from his mouth as he looked toward the village in panic. "Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay…"
Apollo ignored the commotion through the streets. He ignored the strong smell of blood as he passed through the village. He dared not think of what happened to the other priests. His only concerned rested with the status of the Hepburn family, namely their son.
A mass slaughter was never to be expected in the village. Everyone Apollo ever knew was friendly, charming, and accepting (which seemed hypocritical, in hindsight). Perhaps a wandering traveler came through in the dead of night and slaughtered the head priests? But how would they know of the village's priests? Were they a resident?
Apollo shook those thoughts away and doubled his speed, dropping onto all fours and racing up to the house stationed on the high hill overlooking the village. The Hepburn family residence itself.
The house looked normal on the outside, and Apollo couldn't see signs of forced entry from the front door. All sorts of possibilities tried to fill the blanks drawing up in his head. The only thing taking prominence on his mind is Dougal's safety. What if it was a mass slaughter of the priest families, including kin?
The thought enraged Apollo. He beat his knuckles across the pavement up to the front door, racing against the wind. Discarding common sense and manners, he threw himself into the front door, smashing it off its hinges, and rolled in the main entrance. If all ended well, he could always repair the door.
"Mr. and Mrs. Hepburn?! Dougal?! Are you—"
Apollo's blood turned ice cold, an unusual feeling for the fire monkey. He only remembered the passing scent of blood as he ran over. He didn't want to be dissuaded in checking on the family by the horrific sight of previous victims. It kept him determined, but also anchored to a fleeting hope that the Hepburns were somehow spared of whatever blight casted over their village in one night. Such hopes decayed as the overwhelming aroma of blood filled the air.
Apollo couldn't begin to describe what horrors were lay out before him. Murder was one thing, but the horrific display was nothing short of excessive, macabre brutality.
He only saw two bodies, the mother and father. Apollo was spared of the gruesome disrespect dealt to the feminine Honchkrow's body. A smeared trail of blood wiped across the floor like something ran a large, wet paintbrush across the canvas. Apollo could've sworn he saw the severed wings of the mother pinned to the walls of the main entrance, but he prayed they were decorations and tricks of the light.
A glimmer of light shined off the body. Apollo dared to lean closer, spotting black crystal splitting through the chest with dried blood coating the tip. From the way it pierced the body, Apollo hazarded an uncomfortable guess that the crystal burst through her chest.
"What the…" Apollo looked down the main hallway to the far end wall. He nearly threw up at the corpse pinned down to it.
The patriarch of the Hepburn family himself with his wings and body pinned to the wall by jet black feathers. It may have been another trick of the light, but Apollo was almost certain the Toucannon's bottom beak was missing, like someone ripped it off. He really, really hoped he was looking at things wrong. The wings themselves were forcibly spread apart, displaying the corpse in a religious, symbolic fashion. Someone's idea of a dark joke.
Apollo backed way to the entrance and turned himself away. He took a moment to breathe and get his stomach under control. He felt the urge to vomit deep in the pit of his stomach, but he kept breathing and focusing on the morning sky outside.
"What…happened here?" Apollo gasped. "Who did this?" Apollo furrowed his brow curiously. "I don't think Dougal is here, but I really don't want to check upstairs to find out. I might actually lose my breakfast if I did."
Apollo's foot brushed against something on the floor. He recognized it as a feather and nearly recoiled, believing it to be one of the parents, but stopped when he noticed it was one of the jet black feathers. The color was far too dark to be either parent's.
Apollo picked the feather up and observed it, twirling it delicately between his fingers. He rubbed it between his fingers. "This…feels like…"
The realization struck down like lightning. A horrified expression found its way onto Apollo's face as he stared out into the open.
"No. It…can't be."
"I held no regret to my actions. The blood on my wings mattered not to the justice that needed to be dealt with. The fools of this village needed to be taught a lesson, that they are not the arbiters of a Pokémon's fate. They dare try to strip a Pokémon of their freedoms and beliefs? I shall rob them of life itself."
Wes put the book down and took a moment to catch his breath. His heart raced wildly inside his chest. His mind stirred with disbelief after reading the vivid description of Dougal's…massacre. Dougal seemed very proud of what he did as evidence by the vivid detail he went into describing each and every kill.
Wes was most disturbed by how disgustingly jovial the text was when describing the brutal slaying of Dougal's own parents. Wes couldn't imagine taking such glee against his own parents. Even conceiving the idea made him want to run across Mysto and hug his mom while tearfully blubbering an incoherent apology.
"I can't believe it. This guy was basically the progenitor of our family tree," Wes muttered.
He couldn't denounce the anger Dougal felt regarding his parents' cruel views. Wes might even commend Dougal for selflessly looking out for the safety of Apollo and his family, but Wes couldn't wrap his head around the action of familial slaughter.
"What was wrong with our ancestors?" Wes asked to no one. Maybe to himself. Ravenfields always seemed to have a wild streak when it came to flirting with death. "Oh man, I have no idea what Flint's going to say when he finds out about this."
Wes finally calmed down and picked up the book to resume reading. Something told him whatever was to come next wasn't going to get any better, and he questioned why he continued to torture himself digging into the black sheep of his family history.
Maybe it was time to buckle down and peel away the bandage of the Ravenfield family's dark history. He neglected it once out of fear, but now he had to face it for everything that led up to now.
Wes took a deep breath, then opened the book back up. "After I finished purging the village of the conspirators, I retreated into the plains. I had hoped it'll give me time to cool off, perhaps throw off suspicion if no one sees me. Unfortunately, my own friend knew me too well…"
"Good freakin' grief, it won't come out," Dougal mumbled as he vigorously scrubbed his wings and body with soapy water and sponges. He accidentally plucked some feathers from his vicious scrubbing technique, but ignored them as he tried to get the blood out.
Dougal hadn't slept since his nighttime joyride through the village. He couldn't sleep. His mind was overstimulated with the rush of adrenaline and the unfamiliar source of power coursing through his body. It was on a high, from his vision exploding with saturated color to the jittering tension shooting through his nerves. Every twitch had to be restrained. It was like he was dumped in cold water and trying to act tough about it during the coldest months of winter.
"Dougal!"
Dougal nearly jumped into the air in shock. He dropped his sponge and looked over his shoulder, only to breathe a sigh of relief when he saw it was Apollo. Dougal checked himself over again, then sighed. He knew there was no use hiding it now.
Dougal turned and smiled at his friend. "Morning, Apollo!"
"Dougal, are you okay? I was…" Apollo slowed down until he was directly in front of Dougal. Apollo's jaw dropped as he looked over the Honchkrow's appearance. "Dougal, what…happened to you?"
With the morning Apollo was having, he expected he was done with the worst surprises. Fate then turned around and slapped him across the face as he stared at the sinister transformation of his magus-loving friend, who continued to carry the air of ease regardless of his outward appearance.
Dougal's feathers, from his head to his wings and tail feathers, were jet black. His shape and outline were well-defined in the morning sun as the black absorbed the light around Dougal. Aside from the plumage of white on his chest, it was like the sun wasn't touching his feathers. If he were to fly in the dead of night, no one would be able to see him unless he was right in front of them.
His eyes also went through a color change, now a radiant purple that had an internal glow swimming through the irises like water. They looked like two sparkling gems reflecting the sun's light. There were purple crack-like marks stretching from the corner of his eyes, spreading halfway around his head. They, too, pulsed with a similar reflective light.
That alone would've been the cause for Apollo's questions, but it was the state of Dougal's clothes, wings, and talons that drew the majority of his questions. Stains of red painted over his body that were once dry, now smeared from Dougal's vigorous washing. He had some specks of red on his beak, too, but he didn't seem to notice.
"Hmm?" Dougal lifted his wings and looked at the bloodstains. "Ah yeah, that. Still trying to clean up, actually. Last night was exhausting, let me tell you." Dougal chuckled as he picked up his sponge. "Mentally exhausting, at least. I haven't slept for hours." He continued scrubbing his body, paying no mind to Apollo's appalled expression.
"Dougal…" Apollo fell to his knees, gawking at the crow. "What did you do?"
"What do you mean?" Dougal asked nonchalantly. "By the way, what did you make for lunch today? I hope it's sandwiches. You make the best—" Apollo grabbed Dougal's shoulders and spun him around. Dougal's face fell as he stared into Apollo's growling face.
"What did you do?!" Apollo screamed, accidentally spraying embers into the crow's face.
Dougal's eyes widened. "Oooh. You mean…the blood."
"What did you THINK I was talking about?!"
"Well, you know…the other thing," Dougal said, hinting to his face and blackened feathers. "I thought this would raise some alarm—"
"Dougal!" Apollo dug his fingers into Dougal's shoulders. "I want you to be crystal clear with me. No dancing around the truth, no half-baked lies, no frivolous tangents. Did you kill the head priests last night?"
Dougal blinked, then looked away unsurely.
"Please say no," Apollo begged, shaking the silent crow. "Please. Just say no. Just tell me that blood is because you escaped some homicidal maniac. Please!"
Dougal pulled down on his hat crest, hiding his grimace. "I can't do that."
"W-Why?"
"You told me not to lie, right?"
"…" Apollo let go of Dougal and backed away slowly. His eyes shrank to the size of pinpricks. His shoulders sank, as did the rest of his body to the ground. It was like staring into the infinite void as Apollo's mind dashed him in a brief moment of hysteria, yet he couldn't find the words or will to express it. "You…You actually killed all of them?"
Dougal shrugged. "I mean, yeah? I guess I did."
"Y-You—"
Dougal then grinned at Apollo. "But Apollo, this is amazing!"
"…What?"
"Look at me! The potion worked!" Dougal held his wings out and conjured a purple fireball. "See? I can control magic with just a thought. I can train the magic coursing through my body to innately create the symbols designed to manifest its forms. Isn't this brilliant? The power of the mind can make up for the all the work we've been throwing ourselves at!"
"…What?"
Dougal raised his wings apologetically. "I know I said I wouldn't drink the potion, but it happened in the moment. But it's fine. No adverse side effects. I'm perfectly fine." Dougal touched the markings around his eyes. "I mean, sure, this might look a little concerning, but I'm sure it's nothing to worry over. I never felt better. I feel free from the shackles that have been tying me to the ground. Although, that's a strange thing to say since I can already fly—"
"WHAT?!"
Dougal jumped back and cowered behind his wings as Apollo's flame crown exploded like a volcano, eyes turning red with flame and ground sizzling from the heat radiating from his feet. Smoke burned through Apollo's clenched fists. Cinders crackled through gritted teeth. An aura of heat radiated around Apollo, threatening to bring about the extinction of winter itself.
"Dougal. You slaughtered the village priests! Are you actually insane?!" Apollo screamed, jabbing his finger against Dougal's chest. "I may not have openly admitted our friendship to anyone, but I've been doing my best to speak up for you, to show you're more than just the crazy Honchkrow! Everyone for years has called you a lunatic who would sacrifice our pitiful lives for the sake of a ritual, but I kept saying you would never do such a thing. Now I'm hearing you actually went on a murder spree?!"
Dougal clenched his teeth shamefully. "W-Well, it wasn't for sacrifices—"
"That's not the point!" Apollo gripped his head and screamed at the sky. "I…I can't even begin to rationalize why you would do this. I actually ran all the way to your house hoping you were alive, then I found your feathers at the crime scene you left behind. I still, against my better judgment, kept telling myself that you were also a victim in all of this. I was praying that you were alive and got away from some psychopath last night. Even if everything was pointing me towards you, I still didn't want to believe you had anything to do with this. Yet, you did! You killed the village priests!"
"I—"
"You killed your own parents! What is wrong with you?!" Apollo screamed.
Dougal trembled under Apollo's glare. "L-Look, I had no choice. My parents found out you've been working with me, and they deliberated with the priests about what to do. They were going to execute you to set an example for the village. Your family was going to suffer from the aftermath out of shame. I had to do something!"
"There was plenty of other things you could've done, Dougal! I'm willing to believe that, but I can't justify you going on a bloody massacre and brushing it off like it was nothing. Do you realize that kind of damage you've done? The villagers are freaking out! My ma nearly had a heart attack when she saw what you did!"
Dougal bared his teeth. "I did it for you."
"Dougal!"
"I'm serious. I didn't want them to hurt you." Dougal looked away and awkwardly rubbed his wing. "You're my first and only friend in the world. I couldn't just stand there and let them kill you over something that was my fault."
"Dougal," Apollo said in a strained, but calm voice. "I wouldn't approve of this either, but you could've just threatened them to back off. You could've come to me in the middle of the night and warned my family and me. You could've spun some elaborate tale to get them off our backs. You didn't. Your first and only option was to go on a massacre."
Dougal frowned. "I—" Dougal flinched and covered his head as the markings stretched out over his face. "Oooooh…"
"What the?!"
"I-It's fine. That's been happening ever since I drank the potion. I-I'm fine, though." Dougal smiled nervously. "C-Come on, Apollo. A little murder never hurt anyone. B-Besides, those guys weren't important. They were just stuffy old guys enforcing some old laws from an old book. They don't matter. None of them do." A manic grin found its way onto his face. "In fact, I can replace them."
Apollo's face fell. "What?"
"I've always wanted to be a god, right? I can lead this stupid village and do hundreds of times better. I can promise a prosperous harvest even in the harshest winters. I can cure the deadliest plagues with a click of my talons. I can even give everyone the luxury they deserve. No more living in squalor. Wouldn't that be amazing?!"
Apollo backed away from Dougal until he hit their rock table, horrified by the maniacal smile on the crow's face. The stories of a diabolical madman of a sorcerer studying in the taboo dark arts resurfaced after years of suppression. No longer was he staring at a fun-loving Honchkrow with dreams, but a devious raven of pure evil casting a long shadow over the peons he claimed them to be.
"…I was wrong."
Dougal raised his brow, still holding a weak smile. "What?"
"I was wrong." Apollo shook his head and shuffled away from Dougal. "They were right about you. I ignored the warning signs, but they were right. You're actually insane."
Dougal frowned. "Apollo?" He reached out to the cowering Infernape. "H-Hey, talk to me, man—"
"Get away from me!" Apollo slapped Dougal's wing away. "Don't come near me! I never want to see your face again!"
Dougal recoiled, feeling a jagged stab through his heart. "A-Apollo? C-Come on, you don't mean that—"
"Yes, I do!" Apollo snapped. "I gave you a chance. A chance to believe you were more than the rumors being spread about you. A chance to prove you could actually help Pokémon with your studies. I ignored your god complex for far too long, blinded by some false friendship that…I can't believe I let myself fall for."
Dougal's expression twisted in horror and devastation. "W-What? But I am your friend!"
"Really? So, if I did anything that would interfere with your studies or…I don't know, if I actually agreed with the priests that you're a danger, would you kill me like them?"
Dougal's beak dropped. "I…I—"
"You're hesitating!"
"I don't know what to say!"
"Freakin' Mew, Dougal! You've always been ambitious when it comes to the occult, always spouting how you will become a god among us peons! I can't believe I let myself get sucked up into your crazy delusions and expected you to be a good person. But you're not! You're…You're…AAGH!" Apollo gripped his head and turned away.
Tears brimmed from the corner of Dougal's eyes. He reached out to Apollo hesitantly. "Apollo, please. Just give me a chance—"
"You've had one too many," Apollo whispered. He dropped his hands and clenched them. "You went way too far, regardless of your intentions. Is this seriously the type of person you want to be?"
Dougal dropped his wing and looked down. "I…I just want…"
Apollo sighed and shook his head. "Just get out of here, Dougal. I don't want to be associated with the Cursed Raven ever again."
Dougal stared at the back of Apollo's head in silence as the tears fell free down his face. Something like a serrated knife plunged through his heart, twisting and ripping the flesh to shreds. Of all the pains Dougal inflicted upon himself through years of experimentation, this one stung worst of all.
No more words would be shared amongst the two no matter how hard Dougal could plead his case. He never felt more alone than he did his entire life. He felt cold. He felt lost. He felt nothing.
Nothing but misery.
Dougal took a couple steps back, staring at Apollo through teary eyes, then flapped his wings a couple times before jettisoning himself into the sky followed by a vapor trail of purple. He streaked through the morning sky and flew in the opposite direction of the village as fast as his wings and body would allow.
Dougal clenched his eyes shut as the tears waterfalled. At the speed he was moving, he could barely hear his own sobbing. Alone with his misery and the last words of the one he called friend. Nothing left in the world but himself.
In world where magus was outlawed and shunned…
Nobody cared for the Cursed Raven.
Wes closed the journal and set it back on the shelf. He breathed a long sigh, then leaned back to stare at the ceiling. The knowledge imparted onto him by some accidental fate had led Wes to a new point of discovery, one he debated to be a blessing or a curse.
"So, that's what happened to him," Wes mumbled. "All of this started because of a fight. A terrible, terrible fight." He closed his eyes and sighed. "Dougal wasn't a bad person, but…there was just some things about him that came as second nature. Our family lineage was born from spite and hatred."
"That's not necessarily true."
Wes gasped and jolt back into the wall, knocking some journals off the shelf. He relaxed as the light from his ring patterns revealed Grandmaster Cielo limping out of the darkness.
"Oh, uh, Master Cielo, sir." Wes rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I can explain. See, I forget my notebook and—"
Cielo raised his hand and shook his head. "No need for explanations, young Ravenfield." He looked around the hidden chamber. "In truth, I'm glad you found this wing. I was the one who gave you permission to access it. That secret lever you pushed could only be activated by a Ravenfield or me."
Wes blinked twice. "Wait, so…did you use some weird magic to help me discover it? Did you influence my thoughts or something?"
Cielo chuckled. "Afraid not. Ravenfields have a peculiar talent for stumbling upon secrets by complete accident. Dougal discovered magic, your father discovered the existence of the idol, and you've stumbled upon quite a number of secrets yourself. I dare say it's hereditary."
Wes chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah, that sounds about right." He sighed, then glanced at the journals. "It was…definitely surprising reading all of that."
Cielo shook his head. "Young Ravenfield, though this knowledge of your greatest ancestor reveals many truths to your bloodline, it does not define the current generation. You had the luxury of growing up in a stable community surrounded by friends and family. Take solace in that, for Dougal's story is one born of tragedy."
Wes sighed. "True. I just…can't believe how rotten our family linage started out. I was pretty shocked when we learned Dougal was the dark warlock of the old legend. It makes sense with context, but it's still hard to believe."
"Not all of history was created through peace and prosperity. Sometimes, the greatest tragedies helped shape the world into what it is today, whether we recognize them or not." Cielo picked one of the journals off the ground. "And it's our job to learn from history so that we don't carry out the mistakes of our ancestors."
"I guess." Wes looked off to the side. "Still, one thing does puzzle me."
"What's that?"
"Dougal Ravenfield died during the battle against Apollo. I still don't know what led to that battle, but I do know how it ended. How can the Ravenfield family be alive if it's only known relatives during then were killed? It makes no sense."
Cielo closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. "Much of history is shrouded in one mystery or another. You have yet to uncover the full mystery, but that doesn't mean an answer is out of sight."
Wes blinked, then looked up at the old Oranguru. "Wait, does that mean you know?"
Cielo smiled. "A story for another time, Young Ravenfield, but know this: souls persist after death, and a strong soul fueled by determination would go to great lengths to right past wrongs. Dougal Ravenfield had big dreams fueled by delusions of grandure, but that doesn't mean we should stop dreaming. Sometimes dreams persist beyond the scope of reality itself."
Wes stared blankly at Cielo, tilted his head to the side. "You…lost me."
Cielo rolled his eyes, then reached inside his sleeve. "Then perhaps you'll find the answers another way. Your father wanted you and Flint to have this when he originally planned to send you two here, something as a graduation present, but I believe it's time you received it early."
Wes sat up and gazed in awe as Cielo withdrew a red leather journal from his sleeve. Wes held out his paws at the old Oranguru handed it to him. The cover felt new, yet the pages seemed withered with age, still clinging to life against the passage of time. There was a weight to it, one that pressed down on Wes' soul, like he was being handed a star from the gods themselves.
"What is this?" Wes asked.
"Your father taught you two very powerful spells a long time ago, known as the Mystic Spells. Mystic Beam and Mystic Burst. A set of four spells that draw from the essence of magic itself. That book contains everything on the four spells, from their usage to their various applications. Unlike most spells, these are the rawest form of magic taken shape by any spell caster. Though their secrets are known by few others, there's only one family in history who knows all four by heart."
Wes narrowed his eyes in thought, then gasped. "Wait, you mean these—"
"These spells were some of the first coined by Dougal Ravenfield. He could only use basic magic at the time, so he developed spells that enhanced how he drew it out." Cielo tapped the journal cover. "This book here will teach you the two remaining spells of the Mystic series."
Wes opened the book and flipped through the pages until he found the two unknown spells. "Mystic Rebirth. Mystic Awakening." He skimmed the notes under each spell, then gasped. "Holy…! These are super powerful."
Cielo nodded. "Learn them well. Use them wisely. I want to know how far you've come for when we have our fated match."
Wes looked up at Cielo and glared. "But when should we fight?"
"I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise. You'll find out in time." Cielo tapped Wes on the forehead. "For now, I want you to learn everything you can. You've got a sharp mind for studying. It's how you exercise it that counts. I've had plenty of conversations with Jonathan about you, and he sees nothing but greatness from someone as strong as talented as you. Don't let us down, Young Ravenfield. The world doesn't know it yet, but you and your friends may be our last hope to survive the coming calamity."
Wes stared at Cielo in awe before looking back at the spell journal, briefly skimming the two spells staring him in the face. He took a deep breath, then closed the journal. "I'll do everything I can to master these spells." Wes then smirked and added, "And I'll kick your butt when our match comes."
Cielo laughed, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. "How bold. I look forward to it." He turned and hobbled out of the hidden chamber. "I'll let your late night scavenging slide for now, but best you get back to the dorms. Rest is important."
Wes grinned. "Right. Thank you, sir." Wes tucked the journal inside his pocket, then frowned in confusion. "Huh. I feel like I'm forgetting something."
Wes swayed his ears around as he combed through his scattered brain. Not a minute later, his eyes widened in alarm.
"Ah crap, how long have I been gone?!"
"…Of course, Cybil was way too nervous about going out with me, so she never had the guts to ask me out. Fortunately for her, I could read her like a book. Despite her protests, I dragged her out of the house for her first ever date night. You see, Cosette, when it comes to boys, or persons of interest in general, you've got to take the initiative. You don't wait for them to ask you. You have to walk up to that boy or girl—you're straight, so I guess just boy in your case—and ask them out yourselves. Now, the typical advice you'll hear is to just be yourself, which is true, but it helps to doll yourself up to catch a boy's attention. I certainly do it to mess with my dear sweetie every once in a while. She's so fun to fluster. We should give you a makeover and, ooh, maybe expand your wardrobe. Also, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah…"
Cosette sank deep into the armchair cushions, eye involuntarily twitching, as Krystal kept going on and on with her insanely long tangents.
Wes. I'm going to kill you when you get back.
The Shadow King dragged himself through the intertwining halls of Aeternus' castle, head down and hands tucked inside his pockets. He moved like a shambling corpse with his mind deep inside the sea of thoughts swirling around. He had hoped a walk around the castle could help clear his mind, but all it did was give him more time to think.
More time to think about Dougal.
He remembered their last true interaction, the last one before they returned to each other as bitter enemies. The cynical, diabolical madman that was Dougal Ravenfield, cruel and cunning with no love for anyone but himself. A twisted soul hellbent on seeing the world burn for their sins, all for the sake of playing God.
Apollo despised magic for all the harm in brought into his life. Discovering that reservoir and going along with Dougal's schemes was the single greatest mistake of his life. He allowed himself to be fooled by Dougal's promise of kindness just to fulfil his selfish needs. Everything was done to destroy and twist the world around them.
Apollo hoped that was the last time he'd ever have to deal with Dougal, never to see his face again. Never to deal with magic ever again and go back to a peaceful existence tending to the farm.
Then Dougal came back and ruined everything.
The Shadow King bared his teeth. A dark haze flowed from his eyes. Memories suppressed long ago resurfaced, bombarding him with the tragedies of Dougal's fated return.
Apollo. Lost. Everything.
"That damn bird…" The Shadow King dragged his fingers across the wall, digging and clawing marks behind him as he continued moving through the hall. "Why couldn't he just leave me alone? Why did he have to be egotistical? Why did he have to assert his will over us? Why couldn't he see just how stupid he was? Why, why, why?"
The Shadow King plunged his fingers harder into the wall, leaving a massive crack that splintered all the way up to the ceiling. A dark haze emanated around his body like a black fog.
"I went through so much for nothing. Everything I did, and I still lose in the end." The Shadow King gripped into his head, snarling at nothing. "Why did those damned gods give me the idol? Why was I cursed to be the hero? I never wanted to be a hero. What's the point in heroism when I'm the one who must suffer for everyone's mistakes? Everything I did, and I still lose.
"Dougal was right about one thing: Pokémon are the worst. Nothing but louts who lash out and tear down anything they despise. Nothing but raw emotion, no logic to their ways. It's nothing but fear and anger. The world would be better off if we just suppressed those emotions. Those biases, that anger, that morbid curiosity for danger. I just wanted to be left alone and tend to the farm. I wanted none of this shit!"
The Shadow King slammed his fist into the wall, breaking a hole straight through another room. He grabbed both sides of the wall and torn it apart, ripping down the entire wall in one move. He flung the debris across the hall, stomping on stone with blind fury.
"Why did I have to be the hero?!"
The Shadow King screamed, punching and thrashing into the floor. The dark haze around his body accumulated. A red glow shined through the veins in his hands. Energy flowed out from his hands like flame, and crackled with concentrated sparks. Something burned deep inside his chest.
"Uh…" The Shadow King stopped and glared over his shoulder, scaring the Magmar grunt across the hall. "Are…you okay, sir?"
The Shadow King narrowed his eyes, shooting the quivering Magmar a murderous stare that could raze whole towns, before turning away. "Leave me."
"Sh-Should I get Count Aeternus for you?"
"I said leave me."
"It would be no trouble. You seem stressed. I'm at your disposal—"
"Are you deaf? I said—" The Shadow King turned and pointed sharply at the grunt. "—GET LOST!"
A black beam wrapped in a red glow fired from his finger and pierced through Magmar's chest, throwing him into the wall. The Shadow King raised his brow, then looked at his hand. The fingertip smoked with a deathly aura, almost shadow-like.
"What the? I didn't mean to do that," the king mumbled. He didn't care much for the life of the guard given their boss disposes of them like trash every other day.
The Shadow King nearly turned away and continued on his walk, but stopped when he heard a twisted growl coming from the fallen Magmar. He peeked over his shoulder, then gasped in alarm as the Magmar grunt convulsed on the floor, gripping into his sides with an agonizing expression. Eyes were blood shot and filled with black void.
"What's…happening to—" the Magmar groaned before throwing his head back and vomiting a geyser of black from his mouth.
"What the…?" the Shadow King gasped, backing away from the scene. "What did I—"
A hand clasped his shoulder and stopped him. The king felt the eerily familiar presence of his most trusted herald, leaning into his ear. He could feel the dastardly grin on the clown's face.
"I see you've discovered my modifications," Aeternus whispered.
The Magmar rolled around in the floor, screaming his head off as shadow tendrils wrapped around his body, digging beneath the skin. A layer of black coated around the outside of the grunt's body, submerging him into the shadows.
The Shadow King winced. "Puck, what did you do to my body?"
Aeternus snickered. "I figured we needed an edge to make up for your weakened power. I could only do so much for the strength, but I doubled my efforts in quantity." He reached around and tapped the king's chest with his Ursaring claw. "Remember that little amulet the witches made for you? The one that turned Captain Arid into a shadow monster?"
The king's eyes widened in realization. "Wait…" He raised his hands and stared into his palms. With some concentration, he saw his veins light up with the magic, flowing into his fingertips. "You mean you…"
They both looked forward at the struggling Magmar as he changed shape into a grotesque, shambling monster that took up the width of the hallway. Claws slammed down and dug through the floor. Flames spewed from the beak-shaped maw covered in jagged teeth. Dozens of red eyes opened up over the body, scanning its surroundings before locking eyes onto the king.
The Shadow King glared at the beast, then raised his hand. With a click of his fingers, the monster sat down and stared at the king with absolute obedience, attentively waiting for its next order.
Aeternus' maniacal grin grew tenfold. "My king, meet the first of your new army, with plenty of volunteers waiting to join the cause, whether they want to or not."