It's been a while since I've done a chapter like this. A very long time.
And it's my birthday the day I post this! A gift from me to you!
Striker pulled a dark cloak firmer over his scales as he descended into the cave.
Without Sean or Saniya around, warmth was a difficult thing to come by, and there were no heating orbs that he knew of at least.
Plus, it looked cool, all dark and mysterious.
He'd been taken as far as the hills leading towards the crystal caverns, being required to hop the rest of the way by foot.
Striker breathed in deep clean breaths, comfortable to be on his lonesome for a time. He and Guardian were somewhat antisocial, or maybe introverted was a better term for it. There wasn't much privacy in Treasure Town. Although, of course, there had been no privacy whatsoever in the Dark Future because privacy was madness.
Even now, it was still a little weird to be able to walk a sunlit path on his own, soaking in the sun's rays. The Sun Stone Sean had toiled to get all those years ago to give Striker the energy to live had burned out some time ago.
It was little more than a pretty rock now, but Striker kept a hold of it. It was worth more than any orb to him.
No, Striker was comfortable being on his own for a time. Never for very long, he doubts that any of them would entirely relinquish some of the habits they needed to develop to survive, but that was okay, Azumarill had taught them.
As long as it didn't rule them.
He was introverted and would enjoy this small break from others. But only a small break because there would be a communication of some sort very soon.
He'd chosen Crystal Lake as his destination. The answer was clear, and the others had agreed that Azelf was the best choice. Uxie was the first he'd struck down, and Mesprit had lost it almost entirely due to that. Azelf, however, Striker had already appealed to once.
Striking the spirit of willpower had come with a hefty cost, and he owed Wigglytuff a great deal for what he did for him. He doubted Azelf would have released the curse were it not for the strong, brave, Guildmaster.
Crystal Cave was beautiful, but it didn't match the first dawn's light reflecting off Saniya's eyes, Guardian's uncontrollable laughter, or Sean's passionate grin. It didn't match the gleam in Scout's eyes when he looked at Rai and Mane, Rai's tackle hugs or Mane's cocky smirk.
Nah, the place was beautiful, and Striker could understand why Azelf would choose to stay here, but he wasn't drawn in by the rainbow of crystals, the soft pools of water, or the soft beat of the dungeon.
Much of the ferals of this dungeon left him alone. He'd read a few interesting reports alongside Guardian about 'certain dungeons' becoming less hostile to visitors. Only those in the know could maybe make a guess as to why.
It was the same at Temporal Tower, after all. Now that this place did not require such a fierce defence, the aggression seemed to have faded, and the ferals left him alone.
With what Galvantula had said and what they had learned from Giratina about the nature of feral pokémon, Striker truly wondered about these places.
It was still a Mystery Dungeon, a place warped with the need to restrain and suppress a plague of nightmares from breaking the world in twain. Yet, why were these pokémon so docile?
He still received a few potshots, but he didn't fight back, simply distracted or moved away from the pokémon attacking him.
He continued musing as he arrived at the safe point of this dungeon, with the three crystal pillars.
"No offence to Azelf," Striker thought in amusement as he changed each pillar to blue. "But this wasn't exactly the hardest puzzle to work out."
Fogbound Lake had only the one small entrance that was easily missed with the thickness of the fog and all the heated bogs around, and without the Drought Stone, lifting that was otherwise impossible. And jumping into quicksand was among the most difficult things to convince himself to do even with absolute trust in Sean.
Thankfully Scout had tripped in first. He had to avoid the urge to just leap after them in a panic when that happened; the quicksand was safe. It was safe. How it never ran out, he didn't know. Mesprit magic, as the answer most often was.
Once the entrance tore itself into existence, Azelf magic Striker mused. He continued hopping his way along.
The ferals were a little bit more shifty towards him as he went through the Crystal Crossing, but it wasn't tremendously difficult to smack a few back and avoid the rest.
Scout had mentioned on occasion that in the 'game', there were staircases leading to the next floors rather than a continuous travel up down or whatever. They had fun imagining a stack of fancy white steps planted in the middle of the Quicksand Cave, or Apple Woods, or Temporal Tower.
That had led to a discussion that steps would make a lot of sense there and that they should go to Dialga and offer to plant random staircases in his tower.
Somehow, it was agreed that Dialga would not appreciate that.
Which would only be more reason to do it, but they were busy. Another time, perhaps. They could probably get Palkia to help with that.
Or it'd lay around wanting to be fed grapes. Difficult to tell with Palkia.
Or Dialga wouldn't let him. Him specifically. That was quite possible.
After all, during the rebuilding of the tower, Striker had only been allowed to do the easiest of tasks. He had pointed out Saniya nearly died holding time together and then fought Primal Dialga. Guardian had tanked several Roar of Times, but noooo, it was HIM who was burning himself out, which was ironically inappropriate for a Grass-type.
Similarities to Scout, what?
Striker shook his head. He wasn't sure why his mind was going to those places; he supposed he was just worried. Scout, taken again. It happened a lot to him, most distressingly.
How many times was this?
Arrested by Guardian, then caught right on the edge of escape, then separated from everyone due to Darkrai putting everyone in a nightmare, now Soothe had kidnapped him?
That was ignoring the various minor mishaps that had occurred. Someone trying to kidnap him for ransom, at least that had turned out funny once they realised who they were trying to kidnap.
Saniya spiriting him away for a night on the town, elsewhere.
Getting lost and separated for hours, Rai and Mane were almost ready to put up a job request to help find him that time.
Striker chuckled a little. He got himself into a lot of trouble that meowth did. He was always okay?
Not always.
He ignored that fleeting thought.
He could be dead, and you're going to chat with Azelf.
He hated intrusive thoughts. They always popped up at the worst of times; that was why they were intrusive, he guessed. He didn't like to think them. It bothered him more until Azumarill had cracked him enough that he admitted to some of the less awful ones.
"It's one of the things that people don't like to talk about because...well, it's obvious why. It's fucking horrific to be thinking about some of the thoughts that go through a person's head, pardon the language." Azumarill had said. "Murder. Abuse. Tragedy. Rape. And so much more."
"But yes. It is normal to think about it. I can say this from a professional's point of view. Try and focus on the fact that they are NOT you. This isn't something you'll do. Thinking about these things doesn't mean you will do them or want to do them. Or that thinking them at all makes you a bad person."
That had helped a lot to hear.
There wasn't much left to go now. He was a little nervous, although that'd never, ever show.
Crystal Lake….
With no Time Gear, the place was darker yet no less majestic.
Ripples crossed the crystal-clear lake water as if disturbed by the delicate such of a ribombee. A soft scent of salt clung to the air, causing Striker's nose to scrunch for a moment before he got used to it. Massive crystals bulging from the walls and roof glowed with an azure light, like veins of a great ancient titan pumping energy.
The path was wide and flat, almost slippery to someone with feet like Striker. His claws scrabbled on his hops, forcing him to step instead to keep his balance. The last time he was here, he just flew across the floor, using the lack of purchase to just move faster. Now, he had grown wiser, and he wasn't here for a fight, even if things were just as urgent.
Fogbound Lake danced with lights and waterspouts, and the Underground Lake stretched into what felt like an eternity, tantalising with deeper sights and greater treasures. The Crystal Lake was three dimensional in ways the other two weren't, with the crystals looming above as well as twinkling below, only a clear film between them.
If one were to dive, it might almost feel like they were floating in the air, around the glittering crystals that delighted in their beauty as much as their danger.
Really, the lakes were fitting for the trio in ways that appeared at first glance to be mistaken.
The mystery of the Underground Lake almost seemed appropriate for Uxie. The beauty and danger of the Crystal Lake beckoned the idea of Mesprit, and the power and majesty of the Fogbound Lake brought Azelf to mind.
But emotions were just as deep and mysterious as they could be deadly. Discovery and wonder were as much knowledge as anything. And the absolution of willpower was as hard or harder than these crystals.
"Poké for your thoughts?" A cool voice crossed the still air to draw Striker from his musings to the company he had sought.
Floating before him was the guardian.
Azelf – The Spirit of Willpower.
"Azelf," Striker spoke with a nod of respect.
"It has been some time, has it not?" Azelf asked, their voice filling every inch of this titanic room.
"Yes," Striker replied. "I have come to ask you for help."
"Have you now?" Azelf asked, cocking their head and floating around Striker as if he was a curious specimen to be investigated. They floated around him for some time before settling before him, staring him straight in the eye. "I once sensed your resolve, Grovyle the Thief. To stand before it was to be amazed, to wonder at what had driven you to end the world with such utter conviction."
Striker flinched twice to Azelf's words.
"And now…I find it lacking."
Striker was taken aback. "Excuse me?"
Azelf floated back, placing a moderate amount of space between them. "I say what I mean and mean what I say. Once, you walked with the steely steps of one who could not be deterred. Now you walk with your head bowed, your feet dragging, and your will smothered. Is this why you call for my aid, to unlock that which you have suppressed?"
Striker slowly, grimly, shook his head. "No," he answered, perhaps to Azelf's surprise. "I know what I was doing back then. It mattered not what would happen to me, as long as I achieved my goal in the end, for I would disappear anyway. It is not a lack of will that you sense from me now, Azelf; it is a change of resolve. I am allowed to live."
Azelf slowly inclined their head. "Prove it."
And then, as he knew it would, the battle began.
Something whistled, the air itself was stretching, as Azelf lifted their hand to unleash a psychokinetic shockwave that caused the still water of the lake to surge away from the banks of the battlefield as if whipped in a fierce storm.
Striker weathered it, claws scratching scars into the crystal ground with his arms crossed and braced, he did not let himself be flung back, but nothing could resist a force like that. His cloak was flung off, however.
Once, he had fought Azelf, knowing that he had to utilise every possible strength, every ounce of willpower, in order to survive. Perhaps, and undoubtedly, there were stronger pokémon. Striker himself was stronger than Azelf had been reduced to.
But this was willpower itself; it took more than a powerful move to defeat them.
Thankfully, for all that Azelf was, they were still a physical pokémon with physical limits.
The moment Azelf's opening salvo ceased its oppressive force, Striker dashed forth. He was quick, quicker than last time. He hopped so fast that he could avoid disturbing a blade of grass with his weight, entire right arm lighting up in the all-absolving green.
Striker's slash left a cut in the air itself as his blade struck home, striking right through Azelf, burning with energy as he had layered an Energy Ball upon it, crackling in his hand as he swung out in a devastating strike.
And Azelf didn't move an inch.
His arm was caught by a snatch from Azelf's hand, and Striker gasped as Azelf dug their other fist into his gut. It was just a regular punch, but he could feel his meal wanting to escape from the impact to his stomach.
The reason it was a regular punch became clear in the next moment. Azelf's hand tightened around his wrist as it suddenly went icy cold, the bones in his arm keening under the pressure as he lost all feeling in his right hand.
And he couldn't tear it free. Not only was Azelf's grip iron-strong, but with the flash freezing, he may actually risk ripping his hand off.
Azelf's eyes met his, and Striker was overcome with yet another blow. This one from within, as Azelf's mind attacked his, he saw visions of worlds where he had failed, where only he had survived in a ruined land, places of awful nightmares beyond anything he dared to let himself think for more than a moment. A literal intrusive thought assault.
But it was not true.
He came to as pressure went around his throat, almost but not quite restricting oxygen to his brain, enough to cut the pressure off that he remembered he'd come so far and had survived winning.
Azelf was still meeting his eyes, but there was a glimmer of something else, the glow to them still assaulting him, yet now…the attack wasn't touching him. A glimmer of respect, perhaps it was.
Power built in Striker's gut, and he spat a glowing green ball at Azelf, detonating a single Bullet Seed between their eyes, right on the gem.
Azelf was strong, but they were still a pokémon, and they flinched from the jarring crack, grip slipping for just a moment.
Striker didn't break free; he wouldn't risk Azelf's grip being too strong. Instead, he closed what little distance still was between them and tackled Azelf, spitting the rest of the Bullet Seeds into their face as he slammed his paw into their chest and Absorb'd.
Azelf's own force of Power, nearly boundless, running into him. His wrist was flooded with new life, the blood pumping freely through it once more as the ice retreated only to his outer scales. Then. Then he pulled it free by pulling on Azelf's own strength, relenting as it was.
He pulled, Azelf being flung up as they had still not let go, right into a headbutt and then a double Energy Ball from both hands.
That was enough to break Azelf's grip. They flew back in a burst of green smoke, the remnants of the energy sinking back into Striker as he leapt through it, claws shining as he pulled on a different flavour of Power.
Azelf's eyes snapped sharply onto him, and their will manifested again, a telekinetic pulse suddenly launching Striker up at the roof, cracking his head and body off a giant crystal and falling back down as the control was jarred off by the blow.
He was dazed for just a moment, spinning himself around to face the battlefield and leaves shining again. He began to fling a barrage of Leaf Blades at Azelf from the air, Azelf bracing and blocking as they were rained upon by curved energy blades.
Amid the onslaught, Striker added a single Energy Ball, hoping Azelf would miss it in the smoke and bracing.
Which it was, detonating strongly right on Azelf's blocking arms and knocking them careening. Striker landed on all fours, taking just a moment to unlock his limbs from the heavy landing, before scrabbling forwards again, claws shining a second time.
This time, Azelf was not able to throw him, and he tackled the legendary pokémon, butting his chest into Azelf's face. The claws were the attack, but not on Azelf themselves.
He tackled them towards the crystal ground, and Striker carved earth and rock as he dug.
There were few stranger moves to use than Dig, Striker had learned over the years. Carving through the earth as if it was little more than water never failed to twinge his senses with something 'wrong' about it. At times it almost felt like he was gesturing, and the earth was simply parting, little digging required.
It was the most difficult move he had learned, even more so than mastering Leaf Blade to use it at a distance. And it had been a…something who had taught him how to do it, unable to learn it himself no matter what he and Sean tried. He didn't remember that it was a drilbur; the memory was too lost to paradoxes.
Not many pokémon had ever endured a Dig where they themselves were used as the shovel, Striker almost just bashing Azelf through the crystal ground and through progressively wetter soil.
He began to arc them up, not wanting to land in the lake itself, but Azelf took their chance. They were the master of the Crystal Lake, and Striker had struck them through the crystals themselves.
That would not do.
As Striker arced them up and back through the ground, the smaller, pointy shards of crystal that had cut into Azelf so much all burst out after them, striking Striker with an emerald diamond, sapphire blast, ripping a cry of pain from him.
It was only fair. He had just done that to Azelf.
Azelf moved their hands in a somersaulting pattern and flipped Striker in the air before slamming him back first into the ground, right onto his neck, before letting all the many stones they couldn't quite control so well just rain on the grovyle.
Azelf finally released a gasp of their own, the wounds Striker had inflicted all seemed to hit them all at once, and they wavered in the air for a moment, needing time to reclaim dominion over themselves.
They had bought that time for knocking Striker down, but perhaps that was a waste. Striker was vulnerable, but only for a moment. His eyes opened into green as every scratch and wound on his body suddenly flashed as well.
He rose to his feet, leaves beginning to crackle and appear to be burning with technicolour fire. The sheer green of his eyes matched his fierce scowl of terror before he also took a moment. The green faded enough for his pupils to return before further until his eyes were back to normal. The rest of his body continued to burn in overgrowing fire; every leaf, every scratch and wound blazed, and Azelf smiled.
"This is what you were before," they said.
"I don't need to live like this anymore," Striker replied. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and placed his arms together in front of him.
Azelf was noble, but not so noble as to not attack when an opponent closed their eyes against them. They knew they were reaching a limit but wanted to see this end gloriously, in a way that had been taken from them both before.
They brought their hands together, clasped at their side as all-Power formed within their hands. Shining into an energy burst of building light.
Striker opened his eyes and understood what Azelf was about to do. He moved.
Azelf unleashed a Hyper Beam with not a whisper or a shout.
Striker leapt into it, Overgrow-boosted merged Leaf Blade, creating a massive edge of blazing green. His wounds screamed across his body as he struck the Hyper Beam and began to carve through it.
Striker pushed with all the strength he had, splitting the final attack of the Spirit of Willpower, carving the beam into two that began to rise the water around them into steam.
All at once, he realised that the beam was too long, the path was too great, and he could not force his way through this attack and be fine.
He could do it; he had the strength to win through power.
But he had promised Saniya, Guardian, and Sean later that he would stop that behaviour.
After being revived, Striker had not been physically okay. Living in a near-permanent state of Overgrow boosted every aspect of his body and strength, but intentionally on edge to maintain the boost. Dialga had only let him do the easy things because he needed to rest his body for months upon months.
It was not missed that he and Scout had done very similar things through pushing their bodies limits, but they hadn't mentioned it to his face.
But Striker knew it.
One arm left the merged Leaf Blade, causing the intensity of the Hyper Beam to begin overwhelming him. But not immediately, and not fast enough for the orb he snatched into his hand to not activate.
An All-Protect Orb.
A barrier appeared around him, one that began to keen and crack under Azelf's assault. It wouldn't last long, but it didn't need to. He bit down on an oran and disappeared into the ground as the Protect gave in and splintered into nothing.
He swam through the ground until he entered the lake, feeling what felt like the entire world shake and roar as Azelf detected his duplicity and brought their beam down upon the ground.
They found his bursting energy signature fade as the oran kicked in and realised he'd chosen to not use Overgrow. But he swam fast and quickly and rose up along the sides, not Digging as Azelf predicted.
An Energy Ball flashed; Azelf caught it a moment too late.
And it was over.
Striker gasped for breath once Azelf fell, not even keen to breathe after leaving the water in case it alerted them. He bit down on a sitrus as well to give his trembling limbs some strength and dragged his sopping body across the ground, almost falling over, to reach Azelf's downed form.
He placed an oran in their mouth, and Azelf automatically chewed it up, eyes fluttering open after a few minutes of rest.
They groaned and pulled their head up, glancing around to meet Striker's eyes, the grovyle having slumped against the same crystal they had collided with to catch his breath.
"Well?" Striker asked, glancing away to look up at the roof.
"…yeah, alright," Azelf managed. "I'm glad to see you ended up taking my advice."
Striker smiled vaguely, almost lost in memories. "It was a promise to Celebi and Dusknoir, then Riolu, and lastly, Azumarill helped me accept it all. But before all of that, there was you."
Azelf smiled back. "The Guildmaster made a powerful argument."
"Threatening sounding offers of hugs was an argument?"
"You know what I meant."
Striker did.
'I know he's done things to hurt you and your siblings-"
'It is not merely that. He makes a folly of 'willpower'. His path is self-destructive. Part of knowing to be strong is to know when to give up. Part of willpower comes from compromise. Otherwise, it'll lead you to an early grave, Grovyle the Thief.'
'Then what will it take for you to release your curse upon him?'
"Thank you," Striker said. "For…a lot of things."
"List them out," Azelf said lazily. "I'd like to hear them."
Striker flushed a little, not expected to be called on that. "Well, what you said. And releasing the curse. And…today."
"Today?"
Striker nodded. "I didn't take your advice at first; I still felt like it didn't matter what the consequences were. It's been hard, at some points, to really be able to live." It almost sounded like there should be more to that sentence, Striker just stopping after the word. But anything more might be a lie.
"And, you see, for a time, I've been holding back, afraid of 'breaking my promise' and losing myself to my old behaviour. Living under Overgrow for so long…."
"Left you afraid of tapping into it again?" Azelf provided.
"Yes, that."
"And now?"
"Now…I can accept it's a part of me."
"Hm," Azelf hummed. "You don't seem like the kind of person to discuss your personal issues, doubts, and fears."
"I am not," Striker confirmed. "Even with those closest to me."
"So, why now?"
"Because you are a stranger," Striker said. "But not a perfect one. I know you won't judge me, nor will you become worried or concerned about me like others might. It's easier to talk about this kind of thing with people like you sometimes."
"I hope you know you can talk to those you love."
"I do." Striker nodded. "But it's not always easy. If that makes sense?"
"I think I understand."
Striker nodded.
Azelf took another berry and ate it a little slower. "Will you explain what is going on that has warranted you to come to me for help?"
"Not just you," Striker said. "I would like to ask all the Lake Guardian's."
Azelf blinked. "I…see."
"I'm aware you can communicate with your siblings from a distance?"
"I can. Do you wish for me to open up a link to them so they can hear what you have to say? Or speak your part and have me discuss it with them in my own words?"
"If you can link them now, I think it'd help."
"I will ask, but they may not both answer."
"Brother? Sister? I bring company." Azelf spoke across their mental link. It was akin to the Psychic Network, and one (Mesprit) might even claim they were the inspiration if they knew of it.
But it was just the three, and there was no distance too great for their minds not to connect. Spawned from one and split upon three, they could always speak to each other.
Besides that nasty time of being locked in time. Azelf had never experienced pain like the pain of being connected to oblivion through Uxie. They had been able to sever it eventually, but Mesprit hadn't, and that had been just as bad.
The dead silence from one was terrible enough, but the scatterings of desperate screaming, crying, and raving were equally as difficult to bear.
"Azelf?" Mesprit's presence touched theirs. "What is it?"
"This is something appropriate to the three of us. I shall wait for Uxie's response first."
"Hmph."
Azelf smiled a little; they knew Mesprit wasn't actually offended.
"Could at least say hello, how you doin'."
"My apologies."
There was a feeling of anticipation; Azelf couldn't help but smile.
"I'm going to make you and Uxie do another trivia competition the next time we're all in person."
Okay, Azelf shivered. That was a threat. Azelf couldn't just give up, and Uxie refused to lose anything trivia-related. Their last game lasted nearly three hundred years. It only ended because the world endured an apocalypse that split it into two timelines.
"I am here," Uxie spoke, and Azelf brightened.
"Hello Uxie, how are you?"
"Oh, you're just asking for it now!"
"I am…puzzled at Mesprit's aggressive tone. It's not that early."
Striker waited patiently, watching Azelf. They did not emote much in battle, but while communing with their siblings, an array of smiles, amused ones, soft ones, nervous ones, all crossed their faces.
Eventually, they nodded to Striker. "They will listen," Azelf said. "I will relay questions they may have to you if they speak of any. I will endeavour to moderate any swearing, cursing, and insults out."
They blinked. "Cannot repeat any of that."
"I understand that Mesprit would hold a grudge," Striker said ruefully.
Azelf nodded. "I would imagine so, yes. She only accounts for a portion of the swearing, however."
This time Striker blinked. "Uxie too?"
"Uxie taught Mesprit the swears she knows. But knows more than he teaches."
Well, that was a…image in mind.
Shaking it off, Striker began. He explained who Soothe was, where she had come from, and what she had done. The warning that had been broadcast across the continent before something attacked the collective network of Psychic pokémon, Mesprit loudly commented that it was a facsimile at best of their link.
But the three were subdued at the idea that anything could attack a connective force like that.
Striker continued with where it had gone down, that pokémon had gone out looking, and the runerigus that had lurked at the heart of Treasure Town.
Azelf's face shadowed at the mention of that pokémon, and Striker asked about it.
"Runerigus are…monstrous," they explained. "Born of hateful curses that consume the soul of a human to become 'alive'. They are magic in ways that many pokémon aren't. I thought the last of them were gone with humanity as yamask themselves would effectively be 'extinct' at this point. Even though they aren't human at base anymore either."
They shook their head. "My apologies for interrupting; it's not impossible for one to have survived all these years."
They twitched. "Ah, Uxie wishes for me to say something on his behalf." They took a breath and recited what Uxie was saying. "An attack on a system like the Psychic Network, yes I know what it is Mesprit I keep myself up to date, could only be done by another Psychic. To merely observe it requires as much."
Striker nodded. "So, you believe this wasn't Soothe then?"
"No. Soothe may be working with someone who has done it, but she herself should not be capable of levelling such a construct as this."
Striker nodded again, unhappy but also not that surprised by the news. "Enemies seem to multiply whenever we aren't looking," he sighed.
"It makes sense," Azelf said, on behalf of Mesprit. "Whatever attack is building, bringing down a communication network that their 'enemy' relies on so heavily would start a cascade of fear and panic. It would not surprise me if pokémon begin to retreat into their homes, their 'towns'. Creating fortresses where only they are welcome."
"This has happened before," on behalf of Uxie. "In different ways, of course, and more than once. In the time of humans and even in this age of pokémon. Curiously, you mentioned Soothe is afflicted with the corrosive Shadow. The most recent occasion of Mesprit's example was also keyed to Shadow Pokémon."
Striker's eyes narrowed. "Can you explain?"
"Certainly. Terror tactics are extremely useful for opposing forces to appear greater, larger, stronger than they are. Sowing division and fear of the neighbour leads to compacted settlements that are easier to break with the available tools. This happened under a coordinated assault by those that called themselves The First Fallen."
Azelf shivered.
"It was the intervention of Lucario who united pokémon to fight back as a collective whole and unveil that the terrible force was collectively far smaller than their presence felt. Whatever is happening now may be employing similar strategies. By clouding communication, the world feels smaller. Your world goes from the continent to your immediate neighbours, and threats upon that feel far grander."
Striker nodded, resting his mouth on his hands and thinking deeply. "You…you three are powerful Psychics that wield a similar force to the Psychic Network."
"They both scoffed," Azelf said pleasantly.
Striker rolled his eyes. "I was just wondering…you are only three, and I know that is not much but is it possible for you to leave your lakes and take up positions across the continent? If you can commune with each other, maintaining some level of cohesion across the continent would be of utter tremendous help."
Azelf screwed into a small frown as they discussed the suggestion with their siblings.
Striker waited coolly, not anxiously, as it took a lot longer than he was hoping for Azelf to say anything.
"We," they eventually said, speaking slowly. "Are not locked to our lakes. We were here not solely to guard the Time Gears. The Time Gears were placed here because we were already here. These lakes are…much to us." Enough that Azelf wouldn't say entirely why, deep, deep, deeper within….
"But we do not have to remain here all the time," Azelf agreed. "The world has changed greatly since any of us left, the last being when The First Fallen were waging war upon goodness, when we were approached by Lucario."
"They are not entirely convinced of your nature," Azelf added, only between them. "Your actions upon us cut deeply; never before have any of us been cut off from any of the others in such a manner." Striker clenched his jaw but didn't otherwise respond. "However, I have forgiven you."
The words were light and heavy, deep and shallow, echoing as well as directed only to Striker.
"I have forgiven you and told them as such. We will aid you with this idea. Mesprit and Uxie will exit their lakes, and I will coordinate them with your advice as well as Guildmaster Armaldo's."
Striker had explained already that Wigglytuff had left.
Striker breathed a sigh of relief and nodded, smiling. "Thank you, Azelf."
"I want to thank you in kind," Azelf replied. "For all you did and sacrificed to save the world. I only wish you had asked and explained. But you have done both this time. You have told us what is going on and why you are acting. That is good. If for no other reason, you deserve help for learning that it is best to at least ask."
Mutually complimented and chastised, Striker smiled, feeling lighter on his feet, one other weight not slipping off his back entirely but being shared by someone he had asked if they would share the burden.
It was not easy to ask for help, Azelf knew. Which only impressed them more.
"Let us go. It has been some time since I have tasted the breath of the wilds and engaged in the curiosities of the world."
Striker nodded one more time, and the two of them raced out; there was no time to lose. He snatched his cloak back on the way out.
The day was a wibbly-wobbly one.
The town was getting back to normal. The sun was rising and setting in the right place. The tide was splashing the docks and splashing the people who went to the docks.
The school was carnage and chaos with Banette's fabric grip on the kids ever-loosening as they set her, themselves, their friends, and the school on fire.
Really, that place needed to be made out of fire. It'd probably be safer than the mass of nails of splinters that it was, looking like a blind-pokémon's idea of what a yellow house appeared as.
Project P was back on the market. Why not with Wobbuffet back?
Yes. Wobbuffet, Octillery, and Swanna all showed up! None of them remembered where they had been, but that was okay. They were among friends again.
Spinda wobbled along; it was a frabjous day. The sun was shining, the starly were singing, on days like these….
There would not be a bad time.
Spinda made his way out of town. The café was open throughout the day for Project P, but not always for the juice bar. As he was the juicer and couldn't be there all the time, but it wasn't fair to make Wynaut and Wobbuffet wait. This was a more recent decision, but one he felt was right.
Project P was suited to close around midnight, while the bar side of the café continued into the early morning.
An elegant solution that he'd tripped over while thinking about oranges one day.
Regardless of any oranges or giant enemy rocks hiding around shrubbery, there was the matter at hand, paw, tentacle, wing, and various other appendages.
The matter at limb was a term he was trying to get into popular colloquialism, but it wasn't quite snappy enough to be catching on too well.
Yes, the dark matter they had to wonder about. Where did the pokémon go, why did none of them remember anything? It seemed odd that they were largely unharmed, a little, or a lot, hungry, but there was plenty of food to go around, and everyone was happy to pitch in to help.
Swanna reuniting with her chicks brought tears to many eyes. Octillery had plenty of limbs for Mr Mime, Charmeleon, and others to hug.
And Project P was running again! Such a great thing.
Nothing was wrong.
At all.
And that was what was wrong.
Spinda was a person who heard a lot of things. He once heard a few odd-looking pokémon chat about a place hidden within the split of a second. He loved to fantasise about what kinds of experiences could be found in such a place.
He'd wobbled around the world for a long time. Not quite an explorer in the likes of The Great Dusknoir, he didn't dungeon dive or save settlements and do great things. But he had loved to wander into trouble and make friends with that trouble. He liked knowing odd things.
Once, he'd been attacked by alphabet soup. He knew that's what it was because they told him afterwards. In weird letters that weren't shaped like feet, but letters nonetheless that he strangely understood.
All the continents had their share of dramatic history, a shared bond in the teachings of the Legendary Lucario, troubles and tribulations.
Their old myths, ancient ruins, whispers chained from centuries of retelling until their meaning was lost and only a kernel of a message of the truth remained. Fun stories like that.
He knew what a runerigus was.
He wished he'd paid more attention to Wynaut when they told him what they'd found. He wished he'd at least gone around to the guild, Wynaut had wanted to show him, but he was either busy, tired, or sleeping. It didn't bother Maybe much, he knew, he was going to see it eventually, what did it matter if it was now or later?
Only when the whispers from the guild spread out after the danger had been revealed and banished did icy cold dread grip Spinda.
He didn't really know what a runerigus was. Just a scrap of conversation heard between a pair of cofagrigus from years back talking about another version of themselves that was particularly cursed.
He didn't know what it looked like or entirely what it was. But when a Ghost-type called something cursed, unless they were messing with you, it was cursed.
He wished he could find them again and ask what a runerigus did that could cause you to lose memories but otherwise seem okay.
It was not quite time for the café to open, and that was fine. What was a little odd was that Spinda otherwise liked to sleep in, but it was bright and early. Project P would be open, and they would all know he was asleep.
But he wasn't; he was wandering and wobbling and directed in mind.
Last night was weird.
It was weird in ways that weren't weird, which weirded the weird.
He needed advice and someone to talk to, and after last night, that someone shouldn't be Wynaut or Wobbuffet.
There was nothing wrong with them…that was what was wrong.
Something….
He was going to get himself into a tizzy if he continued to think words and not say them, so Spinda went. There was only one place right to discuss this, someone calm and wise enough to discuss it with. Armaldo wasn't right; he was too stressed and too difficult.
No, there was just one.
Spinda only hoped it wouldn't tire him out; Elder Torkoal was so very tired these days.
The hot springs were as warm and inviting as always as Spinda stumbled out from behind a rock. He'd gotten lost on the way, fell off the path, down a ravine, and then up a ravine until he got here. Shortcut, maybe.
Visitors were either more common or less common since Torkoal had gotten a bit more weary. As in, the place was either packed or empty.
Due to the morning, it was empty of everyone. Spinda cheered for the good fortune fairy who went by the name Ayinas. He knew this, she'd told him herself.
Not that others around would be unwelcome, but this felt like a private conversation. Ponyta wasn't here either; Torkoal had told him to stop loitering around an old mon and go back to living his life. He still visited often, more than he used to, which Torkoal appreciated. Team Flame were not in the area at the moment, however.
Spinda felt a pang of bad feeling. He should visit more often himself. Life was busy, but he knew if one didn't stop to smell the roses once in a while, it ran away with your ex on you.
"Spinda," Torkoal welcomed; his voice was as deep as always but cast off into a weaker, almost whisper, at the end. "Welcome." Words could be a strain at times. Spinda felt another flash of guilt that he came here to ask for advice.
But Torkoal could see the look on his face, brief as they were, and while his voice might be getting weaker, his eyes and ears were not. "You look troubled, pardon for being forward. You do not need to hesitate here, Spinda."
Spinda smiled and stepped into the water. Torkoal never actually bathed in the water himself. There were too many risks for him, but resting on the rocks was equally as soothing, and there were other pokémon that sometimes came here just for steam or heated rocks rather than water.
Spinda did not mind the water, however, and strode through it, enjoying the ripples his movement made. He was short, but the water was not deep, lapping at his chin as he got close to where Torkoal was, but not so close he had to crane his head down to look at him.
"I'm a little worried," Spinda admitted.
"A few are," Torkoal replied, nodding slowly. "The hot springs are lovely to wash stress and worry away, but only temporarily. It is not a fix, only a reprieve."
A good reprieve, though.
"Soak for a while," Torkoal suggested. "Once you are ready, you can speak."
Spinda closed his eyes and smiled, feeling the water. From the spring that made this place so warm and feeling all the minerals cross through the water. Well, he couldn't actually feel them, but he imagined he could, and that was just as nice.
He might have soaked for longer than he meant, maybe napping a little. But naps were good, and Spinda yawned as he opened his eyes again.
"Have you…ever heard of runerigus?" he asked.
Torkoal took his time to answer, the memory was still there, but he had so much to parse through that it took time to conjure specific things. "Yes," he settled on. "You have concerns about what happened to the missing four?"
"Yeah," Spinda replied. "I've heard…of runerigus once before, overhearing some…cofagrigus…talking about them. Saying they were cursed in a really scary…kinda tone."
"My knowledge does not spread much farther," Torkoal said with some effort. "A cousin to the cofagrigus, but generally more malevolent."
"Generally?"
"I do not believe that all of a species could be 'evil'," Torkoal explained slowly. "I do not believe something so absolute exists."
That was…a little heartening. But still, four pokémon had gone missing around that time….
"Do…you believe it was the runerigus in…town that took Wynaut, Wobbuffet…Octillery, and Swanna?" he asked.
"From what I've heard," Torkoal said, "it seems most likely. It is not unheard of, after all, for Ghost-types to 'kidnap' others seeking only to frighten them. Whether for enjoyment or for sustenance. I cannot say for sure about runerigus. However, cofagrigus are known to subsist on gold rather than emotion."
Spinda rubbed his damp chin with a wet paw. It was the problem; no one knew what the runerigus was capable of.
"You have concerns further, however?" Torkoal pressed.
Spinda dropped his paw with a guilty look. "I…I…I keep wondering about Spinda…and Wobbuffet…they don't seem…."
Torkoal waited patiently.
"I don't know," Spinda said. "I…feel like whatever…happened should have affected…them at least a little. But Wynaut is…very strong and Wobbuffet…is always cheerful."
Torkoal nodded; he wouldn't waste words on just agreeing.
"But…if it was just…them, I'd maybe be…more comfortable."
"So, Octillery and Swanna?" Torkoal had heard the news, of course, of everyone's disappearance and return.
"I see…Octillery more than Swanna, but…he also just seems…totally fine. None of them…remember, and it doesn't seem to…bother any of them. They're acting like…themselves."
"And that's the concern?" Torkoal asked, brows knitting for a moment.
"It seems silly," Spinda said, nodding. "But there…there…there is just something…." Something he couldn't put into words. Last night, the way Wynaut had been looking at people…it just didn't look like a Wynaut look.
"That pokémon who…revealed Runerigus," Spinda said. "Audino, Soothe. You knew…her, right?"
"To a degree, yes," Torkoal nodded.
"Was she…uh…?"
"She was excellent at winning challenges and a skilled competitor in the art of the drinking contest," Torkoal chuckled. "Kangaskhan ended up drinking her under the table to break her winning streak, but at that point, she was an unstoppable force. Perhaps even better at raising the mood of a party than young Guildmaster Wigglytuff was, at least back then."
Torkoal could refer to anyone as young. Even Kangaskhan and Spinda smiled a little at the picture in his head.
But his question wasn't really answered because it hadn't really been asked. "You know…all sorts of old…history about the world…and such," Spinda said; it was no question. "You were even…alive during the…time of shadows."
Before Lucario.
Torkoal nodded gravely. "So, that's where you're going with this." It was not a question.
"Audino…is…and she seemed…to know…Runerigus…somehow...if I've heard…it right."
"The time of shadows was a ghastly time," Torkoal said. "I was still young at the time. If you want advice from an old dusty boned mon like me, then I have just two pieces to offer."
Spinda waited eagerly. "Do not give in to paranoia. That was the weapon of the madmon who were seeking to control the world. Turning brother against sister and neighbour against neighbour."
Spinda swallowed and nodded, chastising himself for thinking such things about his friends.
"But I also urge you to tell Armaldo of your concerns," he added to Spinda's surprise. "Caution is not paranoia. There is a balance to be walked between driving wedges between yourself and others and ensuring those wedges aren't made by another. You know the pokémon of the town better than most. If you have reason to suspect…."
"I'm…worried Armaldo might do something drastic," Spinda admitted.
"Tell him not to give in to paranoia either," Torkoal said. Spinda wasn't sure that would help, however. Reading the look on his face, Torkoal sighed. "Armaldo can be difficult. I myself do not know him any more than passing acquaintances. It makes his authority in town tenuous in some ways. Despite being the mentor to the previous Guildmaster, he holds little bond with much of the rest of town."
"Young Wigglytuff is respected as much for his strength of kindness as his strength of will," Torkoal continued. "Remind Armaldo of that if you are willing to bear his temporary displeasure."
Spinda managed a giggle at the thought, terrifying but so was following his dreams to settle down and start up that café he'd always wanted to do. "Thank you…Elder Torkoal."
"Any time, Spinda," Torkoal replied, strong and weary together. "Any time."
"And that's…what he said," Spinda said later, sitting with Armaldo in the office area.
"Probably without as much pausing," Armaldo grunted. Spinda didn't react to the rudeness. He had sat at first but stood to pace part way through. He paced a lot, Spinda noticed.
"Thank you for the information," Armaldo murmured.
Spinda waited. That was a dismissal, but he ignored it.
"You think they are dangerous, then?" Armaldo demanded. He had taken all four in so he could interview them, but all of them had the same story to tell. Which was frustrating, but he had no authority to arrest them because they had no memory. Once Chimecho had looked them over, and Chimecho deemed them fine, he had to release them.
He at least trusted that Chimecho knew what she was doing.
And now Spinda was wobbling in here saying this, accidentally knocking things off shelves and Flaaffy back into the hole he'd crawled out of as his shift as sentry was ending.
"Torkoal said… it's important not to give in to paranoia," Spinda replied, repeating that for the third time even. Armaldo snorted at him. "But…maybe."
Armaldo sat down on his stony chair and glared out a window for a while.
"I cannot simply arrest them," Armaldo grouched. "There are no grounds for that, and I obey the law." Now. "… I'm going to have to ask you not to be alone with Wynaut or Wobbuffet. And especially not both."
"That'll be…difficult," Spinda pointed out. "We close up…shop together most often. And I've been…alone with them since they returned."
"If they are a Shadow Pokémon." Spinda flinched, the words hadn't been spoken yet, and he hadn't expected it so bluntly. "Then there may be some desire to act normal to lure us into security before striking. If you were to go missing so shortly after they returned and no sign of Runerigus, then what would that appear to us?"
Then there would be a reason to arrest them, for questioning, but the cost of that was far, far, too high to be allowed. He wouldn't let anyone get hurt. "Eyes on all four."
"How, though?"
"I'll have someone in the guild at the café through the night," Armaldo said. It wouldn't be a perfect fix forever. Eventually, that might look suspicious to them, but it was a plug for this hole for a short time. "Octillery and Swanna…." Swanna had children; the idea left Armaldo feeling sick for a moment before he pushed the emotion to the side.
It was said some Shadow Pokémon tried to fight what they had become. That thought lay in the deep parts of Armaldo's mind as he focused on other things.
"Torkoal said something else," Spinda said weakly. Armaldo was scary, no questions asked. Armaldo's eyes flicked to him, and he took a breath. "That Wigglytuff was respected for his kindness as well as his strength."
Armaldo stared at him, almost…surprised that he had the balls to say that to him.
Spinda kept his head up even though Armaldo's stare was making him feel dizzy.
"…Yeah, Junior is like that," Armaldo said gruffly but softly. Even fondly could be argued, not that Spinda would. That would be a dangerous argument.
"You can go now."
That was a dismissal, and so Spinda made his leave.
Armaldo watched him leave and waited for a while until he was sure, stood up, and left the chambers to walk to the apprentices' rooms.
Halfway up to where the first rooms were, he stopped at a mural of Temporal Tower and set it to the side. Behind it was a door, which he entered. He walked the dark tunnel for longer than an hour, lit by a few blue crystals taken from Crystal Cave, which was Timber's clever idea.
At the very end, he found a hatch to lift, doing so brought him to an area not many pokémon bothered to go, mostly wilds out this way. Satisfied, he set everything back in place, so it was hidden and began the walk back.
The escape tunnel had been finished for some time, but he just had to check to ensure it was still intact. He couldn't quite say why, only that he did. Torkoal said not to give in to paranoia but also to be cautious. The balance was hard to walk, and it was so easy to slip off one end.
Armaldo knew he was crotchety, difficult, and undoubtedly paranoid. One had to be an outlaw. It was so many years ago, but he had been nervous as an anorith, and old habits loved to rear their heads long after you thought you were past them.
Junior was strong, stronger than him.
Chitin tried to think of what Rhythm would do in this situation. Part of him felt like Rhythm would try to hug everything out; he hadn't been able to do what needed to be done about Soothe.
But, now Saniya and Sean expressed the idea of another way?
And they may not even be. He knew that was entirely possible; it was easy to see patterns and draw conclusions from them. The most Spinda had done was simply voice thoughts Armaldo himself was toying with; hearing someone else discuss it validated it all, made it all real and true.
But he knew that wasn't necessarily the case.
Rhythm…would try and help them.
He couldn't do that.
It wasn't him.
The thoughts remained in Armaldo's head throughout the night.
"Will you come with me outside?"
It was time to leave. It had been an exciting time, and no one had been set on fire more than two times, but it was time to leave. She wielded magic again.
"Nope," Celebi said, hitting Saniya with a broom. "Go! Shoo! I've taught you everything you know. Now leave."
"Everything you know?"
"No."
"Know?"
"Stop speaking like that."
"No."
He crossed his arm. "Now go. Shoo. I don't want you around anymore. Begone! I hate you! Go away!" He wasn't crying; she was crying!
I mean, reverse that.
Saniya shook unusual narration out of her head and gave Celebi a genuine smile. "Thank you," she said. He stopped fussing and met her eyes, and nodded.
"I think you're as ready as you can be," he said, shrugging. "It'll be hard out there; make sure you do that love and friendship thing to hold steady, kay?"
"K."
"Good." He managed a smile. "You're alright, loser."
"It's lost!"
"Get lost, Lost."
"A Lost Second!"
"Second place to me, loser."
"Flub you!" It wasn't fair that he could use her True Name against her so cruelly. His was impossible to make any fun out of. Leafy Green Edible couldn't be used for ANYTHING.
She had doubts that was his real name anyway. He just kinda threw it out one day when she was pelting him with pellets.
Celebi collected a lot of random shit. She found a Gameboy that had no batteries that he'd found in a dungeon one day. She wondered if other legendary, or just long-lived, pokémon liked to collect the really obscure stuff occasionally found in dungeons because Celebi lived in a junkyard of that stuff.
She was pretty sure she'd catch something if she cut herself on anything sharp and pokey here.
"Alright, I'll go," Saniya said as if she didn't want to go. "Are you sure you don't want to come out of your hidey-hole? Breathe some natural air for once?"
"And what would I do without my many fans?" he said, the collection of old junked fans laying in a pile behind him.
Saniya didn't really know how to respond to that. "Alright, toodles, I better let Chimecho know the plan is a GO and that I'll be home soon. Ooh, I haven't checked up on anyone, whoopsies."
She closed her eyes as she fell into the Psychic Network. That was something Celebi couldn't do, and she liked that. He hadn't asked to learn, and she hadn't offered to teach. If he did swallow his pride enough, she would, however, and they both knew it.
At first, she worried she'd somehow done it wrong or lost the skill to do it. How often did one have to psychic surf to keep those skills sharp? But then the all-consuming pain overcame everything she ever knew. She began to hear voices and dream of things that were beyond sense, badges flickered, and voices talked about fun and not fun things.
"Ow. Ow. Ow. OOOOWWW! FIDGET SPINNING in my head. Pie, pie...apple pie...ow."
Saniya! Are you alright? Somehow, that didn't sound quite like Celebi's voice…a lot deeper.
"There's...something...attacking...the network."
Something pulled her out. At first, she thought a yveltal had come for her, but then she realised she was being physically smacked across the face over and over. "Wakeupwakeupwakeupwakeupwakeup."
"Hugh, sack reh bleugh?" Saniya coughed and slapped the slapper back. "Who dares to striker me?"
"I'm not your weird crush," Celebi said flatly, and Saniya remembered who she was and who wasn't was.
"If you tried to kiss me awake, I would have stolen your lips," she replied.
"Then maybe he would kiss you."
"I will end your entire lineage if you keep this tomfoolery up!"
Celebi looked her up and down with an expression. It sure was an expression, yep.
"Go away."
"I'm going," Saniya scoffed. "Psychic Network is down, by the way. The world is probably gonna try and end itself again soon. Like your chilli pot pie nearly ended me. Call me if you don't want to die, toodles."
She had to go. And quickly. And talking to Celebi would not be quick.
Truthfully, she was terrified at what THAT could mean. She'd never seen it dark like that, not even with Darkrai's whole nightmare shebang. And whatever had attacked her felt like metal worms wriggling up her nose, in her ears, through her eyes and into her brain.
Which she could now claim to have felt and that it was not a fun experience.
She waved to the pretty light on the way out, no reason not to be polite, and left the dungeon and began to teleport rapidly.
She wouldn't do a silly and force herself to get back to town in one day. Azumarill had a whole week teaching them all about NOT overtaxing themselves to sickness, and she liked to listen to Azumarill and her wise stories.
But she'd still go faster than she did to get to Celebi. One day of travel compared to two.
As she arrived in Treasure Town, she felt familiar with a place she loved to call home. A familiarity clouded by lingering anxiety cresting over the place like the morning fog.
She received beaming smiles as she made her presence known, one of the heroes of two disasters. There was delight to see her, along with that slight touch of relief that left her feeling distantly itchy.
There was no sign of Striker, Guardian, or Sean. So she flew to the café first, she couldn't help but notice an uncomfortable-looking Flaaffy doing nothing at a table, and he motioned for her to go up to the guild.
Flaaffy was good people with nice wool, and so she went.
Armaldo was doing what he normally did, looking stressed and busy.
"Sit down," he ordered; there was already a stool set up for her. Word travelled quickly, that or lots of people were bothering Armaldo these days.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"Did you learn what you left to learn?" he asked instead. She nodded. "Good. Because we may have four Shadow Pokémon in town, Soothe has kidnapped Scout. Riolu and Dusknoir have gone to assist Team Ion in finding him, while Grovyle has left to appeal to the Lake Guardian's for aid in the light of the Psychic Network being brought down. Any questions?"
She had questions, yes.
But that was a little much to take in an all-in-one sentence and her mouth opened to make the question and then didn't.
Armaldo nodded along. "You want to leave to assist in the search for Scout?" She managed to nod. "I know you, and I do not get along, but I must ask you to stay."
Her head twitched slightly, almost a shake but not something so voluntary. "I…who…why?"
"Pokémon are handling Scout," Armaldo said. "There was a call for help before the network crashed, some must have heard it, and even if not, there are still pokémon doing so. Grovyle determined that those searching were enough, and his efforts would be more valuable elsewhere."
"…So, you admit I'm useful."
"I never said you weren't," Armaldo grumbled. "Loud, arrogant, boastful. Annoying," he added. "But never not useful. You are powerful, intelligent, and spirited." There was an emphasis on that last word.
"That was almost a compliment!" she said happily.
"How was it not?"
"Because it was you who said it," she giggled, and to her shock, he cracked a grin. It was an oddly sharp thing that disappeared as quickly as it came, but she saw it. And no one would ever believe her. The fiend! How dare he show something to her? She had to tell people that they wouldn't believe her in telling!
"The town might need someone like you," he said. "With so many of the livelier people away." Hadn't heard from Team Voyage, or just Sunflora, in a while now. "Some gloom is taking over the town."
Saniya chewed it over for a few moments. She didn't like to agree with him, but. "People…I can trust the kitties, Wiggly, Sean, and Guardian to find Scout. You're right that they don't need me there." She'd be helpful, and Soothe was…so close she ached to turn away.
He was right, though. "I'll stay," she sighed, and he breathed a sigh of his own, one of relief.
The next day, Torkoal had come to town. Riding on the back of Ponyta, who still visited very often for his ailing parental figure.
Torkoal's arrival stirred up a lot of talk, and word was swiftly spread that he was calling the town for an announcement. After lunch, when the sun was at its highest in the sky, pokémon gathered, and Torkoal was brought forth to speak.
He rested in Ponyta's flames, needing the warmth always now.
"Citizens," Torkoal began; his voice was ancient, weary, and filled with a vast kind of strength. One that had carried so many so often that even at its weakest, it was at its strongest.
"Family…friends…companions…all who call Treasure Town home. Whether it be for a day passing through or for months and years. However you are here, you are here."
Torkoal's voice carried, drifting across the crowd, quiet and tense, stiff and nervous. It was the voice of the grandfather who told long-winded stories by the fireplace. Of the old friend reminiscing. It was the voice of home.
Former Guildmaster Wigglytuff was not here, and Armaldo was not particularly well-liked. But Torkoal was the town elder, the founder, and the leader of the town.
After speaking with Spinda, he chatted to others who came to the hot springs and came to a decision. With time collapsing and darkness rising, people had grown scared, liable to react to new threats; he'd seen it before. He wouldn't see it again.
Torkoal spoke only from the heart. "I know you are scared. Words have been shared, communication feels like it's going dark. No longer. I am here to speak to you. To encourage you to speak up. All you need to do is ask."
"These times seem to be never-ending, don't they? Time Gears to spreading nightmares. Thieves and ferals. If you feel unsafe, remember that you are not alone."
"Pokémon have always been stronger together. Always. No one is alone in this. If you feel isolated, that you are scared, if you feel like you are on your own and cannot reach out to anyone, I hope my words can instil even the slightest bit of hope in you."
"Nothing is ever set in stone, no matter how hopeless things may come to feel. All you need to do is ask. It's often the hardest thing to do, to ask for help, so let me be the first. I ask you to come to me if you need to talk and you feel there is no one else. Listen to an old mon ramble, relax in the hot springs. It is welcome to all now and forever."
"Times have been like this before, and Treasure Town has always persevered. It is not by the sole actions of 'heroes' that have persevered; it is all of you. Every day, you strive to live a new day or to make the world a better place. Every day is a victory. Everyone who lives fights, and that makes you all heroes."
"A town is not its buildings, its roads, or even its history. There was no history here when the town first began, yet it was a town, nonetheless. Treasure Town is the people within it. Treasure Town is our bonds. Because no one in Treasure Town is alone. No one in Treasure Town cannot ask for help."
"This is all I have to say. Do not give in to fear. Do not look at your neighbour and wonder if it'll be you or them. Those times are long, long, behind us and should never be revisited again."
"And to those who need help, ask. Hope lives. Hope never dies."
It took a while to get this chapter done. My apologies for that. However, I wrote it all in one day, so you know, the inspiration just kinda hits.
It was nice to write a somewhat lighter chapter. It's not all, or even mostly, happy. But with no appearance by Nelia and a focus on getting things done and maintaining hope, it feels like a nice chapter.