Post District had gone silent one hour to eight, just after winter's early dusk had passed. The lockdown wouldn't start until tomorrow, but the streets had already emptied out like curfew was already in effect. Or perhaps that was simply the effect that Reinhardt's decree had on the city. The ugly reality had been dragged out into the open, bloodied and gruesome, and thrown directly into the center of the crowd. Who would ever want to go out on a stroll after a morning like that?

Apart from Alexander.

The twilight's street crews had gotten to work, flitting from one street lantern to the other as they followed their normal routes. A few of them passed on some formal greetings to the Serperior, but nothing more. It was still better than the cautious glares that most passersby would've shot him. The Master of Law was rarely seen outside of a small handful of places. On top of that, he was old and sickly looking-as unpleasant to look at as he was personally cold and uninviting. The polar opposite of the Chesnaught king, who often took unguarded walks through Paradise's markets and parks.

There stood an establishment near the heart of the town that retained some of Post Town's rustic charm. It was hand-built with old wood planks and circular windows with crossed bars, refurbished once but faithfully recreated by Gurdurr Construction Company itself. Of course, the old streams and grassy patches were gone, but the original feeling never quite left the place. It was the backbone of a community. A place close to home.

There didn't seem to be much activity inside when Alexander approached the doors. He just saw a bunch of empty tables and flameless candles when he peered through the glass. Even so, the place wasn't completely dark, and when he pushed with his vines, the doors readily opened for him with a pleasant chime. Most of the chairs were arranged strangely, swapped back and forth between other tables to fit other occupants. Some dishes were left out, some messes here and there. The floor hadn't been swept yet. Still, not a soul.

Not until a young Swanna stuck her head out of the kitchen and smiled at him. "Well, well! If it isn't tall, dark, and scary. Fashionably late, as you always are. I was just about to close up."

Alexander coiled halfway around. "Will this finally be the time you kick me out?"

She snickered. "Get the hell in here, Alex. You're the reason I clean the mixing bowls last, you know. Was wondering when you'd show up."

The Serperior shook his head and slithered up to the counter, finding a particularly tall bar stool to coil around. "You know you don't need to make special exceptions for me. If you were going to close, I'm no different from any other customer. It's perfectly reasonable to turn me away."

"Oh not that again. You better not think I'm doing this because you're on the high council or whatever." The Swanna started to poke her beak around inside a small ice-box beside the sink, humming to herself. "I'm guessing you want your usual, right? Unless you're feeling adventurous?"

"Yes, please."

"Thought so." She shut the box with a bend of her wing and started gathering ingredients. "You know, I've been thinking about how much dirt I got on you. Just what would people think if they knew how much of a sweet-tooth the big bad Master of Law had? Oh, the kind of rumors I could kick up."

Alexander couldn't help but stare as she gathered multiple containers of different kinds of chocolates, placing them together beside a wooden bowl and a tin mixing cup. Admittedly, he never got tired of it. "They wouldn't believe you. It doesn't ruin my image enough."

"Well maybe I'll just twist the truth and add that you put gum under chairs, too. That'll sure rile them up."

"I don't have the kind of teeth that would allow me to chew gum in the first place."

With a shrug, she took out a tall fountain glass and started fiddling with the ingredients in a song of clattering, speaking whenever her beak was free. "Oh sure. They won't believe you're head-over-heels for chocolate, either, but I'm certain that if I threw enough of that mindless garbage in, they'd start making space in their heads for it."

After some pouring and a few half-completed choruses muttered under her breath, Swanna set everything down and hobbled past the edge of the counter and came to a stairwell on the far end of the cafe, shouting up into the second floor. "Hey mom! The Master of Law came to arrest me for murder! You better hurry!"

Then, picking back up where she left off in her melody, she walked back behind the counter and took the metal cup into her beak, casually shaking it with a routine quickness.

A few moments later, another Swanna descended from the soft light at the top of the stairwell. One much older, whose ragged down feathers had lost much of their blue in exchange for more white. "Now dear. You know it's rude to speak about a friend that way. Hello, Alexander. I thought I might see you today."

The Serperior struggled out a smile in return. "It wasn't that obvious, was it?"

"Dear, after a decree like that, I should've been warming the seats." The old bird found a sufficiently wide seat to perch onto beside him, cooing as she settled down. "It's a world of a burden, doing what you boys are doing. This town's in a bad way, and I don't think anyone really appreciates the kind of place that puts you in. Tough love never shines through in the moment."

He scoffed to the side. "I think it's less love at this point. I'm getting what I deserve. Maybe I've even gotten off too lightly until now."

"Alex, honey," she said, shaking her head. "How many hours of sleep did you get last night?"

"Two, by accident."

"And before that?"

He thought for a moment. "I don't remember. Not much."

"Don't you see what I mean? You're wasting away under all this pressure. It's written all over your face." Swanna huffed, then turned to her daughter. "My dove, make sure you're putting your best effort in. He deserves it more than most."

The Swanna behind the counter set down the tin mixing cup and gave an impatient scowl. "My best efforts and my worst efforts don't look much different in a milkshake, mother. I'm not exactly baking macarons here!" With a bit of fussing, a plume of whipped cream, and a generous sprinkling of powdered cocoa, a tall glass was triumphantly pushed over the bar and came to a stop in front of Alexander. "Chocolate milkshake with a fudge swirl, stirred-in crushed chips and topped with whipped cream, sprinkled with a diabetic coma. On the house, obviously."

"You know I can pay, right? This is a business," he said.

"This is my home," insisted the Swanna beside him. "You are a friend and a guest in my home. Besides, it seems we're just about closed right now, so you can't use that excuse this time."

Like clockwork, the bells on the door rang. He turned his head to see Reinhardt peek his head in through the crack. He'd already taken off all his royal garbs and linens apart from his marital scarf, appearing only as himself and nothing more. "Hello, Swanna. I'm not intruding on the closing hour, am I?"

"Not at all, Rein. Come right in." In the same moment as the Chesnaught entered, Swanna dismounted her stool and started towards the stairs, sparing Alex one last glance. "This must be where I take my leave. I'll be upstairs if you need me, dear."

Her daughter nervously pecked at her flight feathers. "Ah, yeah. This is getting a little too royal, even for me. I'll- uh, if you don't need anything, I've got a few dishes to get back to. In the back. Out of earshot."

Reinhardt waved his hand as he took Swanna's old spot. "No, it's fine. I don't need anything."

As the Chesnaught settled down, all the pressure that'd slowly been draining from the room came flooding back in. Alexander grimaced and took the straw into his mouth, working hard to move the thick concoction that he always ordered. The flavors crashed over his tongue like an avalanche, but all the worldly pleasures one could ask for couldn't stave off what he was feeling.

Tapping his fingers on the counter, Rein sighed some of the tension out of his chest. "It's a rough night, I know. This place usually takes another three hours to empty out. Nice that we have it to ourselves, though."

Alexander took another extended sip of his drink. He let the silence roll on, a terrible ache in his chest. When he next spoke, it was barely above a mutter. "It's happening again, isn't it?"

"Hm? What is, Alex?"

"Poliwrath River."

Another pause. Reinhardt breathed in. "I think that's a bit of a stretch."

"Stretch as I may, I let history repeat itself. I let this happen."

The Chesnaught shook his head. "Now that's hardly true. You didn't just let the situation we're in happen. Nobody's at fault here."

"But what's my purpose as a judge if not to lay blame?" Alexander shot back, turning away from his drink entirely. "And how can I be a fair judge if I'm keeping the truth to myself? What'd I pledge myself to your dream for if it was always my fate to tear it down?"

"You're not tearing anything down, Alex. If this is about Shardurr's intentions with Rusty Mountain, you had every right and reason to withhold that information. Virizion acted on her own and forced control to slip further from our grasp. You knew that would happen."

"Don't act as though she was wrong!" The Serperior struggled not to shout. "Rein, there was nothing wrong about what Virizion did. It made things more chaotic, but it was action nonetheless! It was justice! All I've done since the cold months came was sit around and wait for Chenza to gain more and more momentum! I forced us all to play into her game!"

Reinhardt frowned. "You were biding your time. If she were human, then-"

"But she wasn't!" he interjected. "Or she is, I don't know! But now I know much too late that it was absolutely folly to be so cautious. Now our response is already much too slow, and much too forceful. I could've prevented this."

"...Don't dwell, Alex. Now of all times, we need to keep a clear head and move forward."

Forcefully sighing, the Serperior stuck his mouth over to his milkshake and took a drink that held no pleasure, but was simply something to fill the gap while he collected his scattered thoughts. "This system I've built doesn't even punish me for what I did. I know, because I'm the one that built it that way, and for this exact scenario. What was I thinking when I did that? Was it selfishness? Did I just assume that I would be in the right and I would need to protect myself?"

"Do you...want to be prosecuted?" Reinhardt tilted his head.

"I want to go back in time and undo this mess! I want the respect of my peers to be genuine, not born out of complacency or fear! No, I don't want to be prosecuted, but I'm angry that I've even put myself in a situation where I would prosecute myself if roles were reversed! And now it's just..!" He let the breath leave his lungs unfulfilled. "Now there's no point in even regretting it. It's already over. What's been set in motion can't be stopped now."

The king of Paradise couldn't do much more than shrug. He placed a hand on his friend's back and propped his other elbow on the counter. "I don't know. That might be true, or there could still be hope. As much as I preach about the latter, there's no way I can ever know for sure, and that's what I hate the most. I can never put all my heart into promising the pokemon living here that life will be better tomorrow. There's always that doubt in the back of my mind, but no one will ever hear of it. No one but you."

"But you haven't handed the city over to a villain!" Alexander said. "You have done nothing but what you were meant to do, and what you've always done. You are the Aegis of Paradise. If anything, I would have suggested that you trust me less than you have been."

"I will always trust you, Alex."

"Yes, and in this case it was a mistake."

"There is no mistake in believing in a friend. No matter if you try to place yourself below me." Reinhardt removed his hand and leaned fully onto the counter, his weight making the old wood creak beneath its polished exterior. "Funny you should call me by that silly little name. I've done about as much protecting as a paper screen. I want to be out there with my guard, taking as much of the brunt as I can. I can't do anything while I'm trapped in that stuffy palace, either."

"But the prince."

"But the prince," he agreed with a sad shake of head. "I have my family to think about. I have my kingdom to preserve. I have you."

Alexander raised his head. "What do you mean you have me?"

"Come now. I mean you'd have worked yourself to death a long time ago if I wasn't around. Somebody's gotta be there to watch out for you. How much sleep did you even get last night?"

"Dammit!" the Serperior hissed. "Why do you two always ask me that? It's not important!"

His hearty laugh filled the room. Just the sound of it could brighten colors and dull pains. "Oh, dear...The both of us are in for a rough week, aren't we?"

"Possibly one of the worst in our lives," Alexander said.

"Then I'm glad you'll be there with me.

...

Harriwether Park, East District. One hour after dusk. Meet due south of the rusted street light, behind the hedges.

...This was Harriwether, right?

Vallion squinted as he took in his dark surroundings once more. There were so many parks that looked just like this all over the city that this could easily be the wrong one. Maybe he got turned around at some point? Was there a sign he missed?

He reached a vine into his hands and unraveled the note for the fifth time since he left the inn, straining his eyes to reread it in the low light. The letter was written almost entirely in ancient script, and with perfect form as well. Chances were there was only a single pokemon in the next three hundred miles capable of such a feat, and frankly Vallion had no idea if she had meant a different Harriwether entirely.

His answer came when somebody slammed into his back and a pair of arms immediately wrapped around his neck. Nearby, a flying metal pole collided with a tree and disappeared into a mound of snow.

"Finally! There you are! God, you're quiet!"

Being in Panne's embrace for mere seconds unearthed a tide of emotions that he'd been stowing away for much too long. The Serperior twisted himself in a knot trying to wrap around her in return, curling around her twice before he ran out of tail to do so, pulling them both to the ground. Her giggles traveled into his frame as he stowed his face between her ears. This hurt. It hurt more than he expected it to.

"Hi," he whispered.

She chuckled into his neck. "Hi."

"Hello."

"Mhm."

"...Hi."

"Oh shush! I get it!" She squeezed even tighter. "I'm so glad you got the letter. I didn't know how else to send it to you, other than just throwing it out there and hoping someone would eventually get it to the only other Serperior in town. I didn't even know if you were still alive!"

"Why wouldn't I be alive?" he muttered. "I promised you I'd be careful at the beginning of all this. I wouldn't just go and get myself killed."

"Well you've proved that wrong before!"

"Really? When have I gone and died before?"

"I didn't mean literally! You-! You fuckin' know what I meant!" She buried herself in the crook of his neck and whined. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. When I saw what happened with the guard headquarters, I knew you weren't involved, even if the press just went on to assume you were in all the papers they wrote. I was scared they'd finally caught on…"

He murmured into the top of her head, staring off into the distance. "No. Not quite. It's not as far from reality as I'd like right now, but a lot of Shardurr still answers to me. Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to me."

"Didn't that withered weed tell you? I already figured out who Chenza's mother was. You don't have to deal with this stupid mission anymore! We can finally go home!"

A quiet moment sprawled by. He took a deep breath. "Panne…"

"...Oh come on!" she shouted, pulling her head away to look him in the face. "Don't tell me you're gonna keep going along with this! Val, this city's about to fall apart! It's one bad day away from imploding in on itself! You seriously wanna be stuck on the wrong side when it does?"

"It doesn't matter which side I'm on. It's about how much of the damage I'm able to prevent. This mess is only going to get worse with force, and I at least have some sway over it from where I am."

"Val, no!" The Delphox beat a fist on his chest, then pressed her cheek into the same spot. "Dammit, I knew you were gonna say that. Don't even know why I asked. Maybe I thought there was a chance you'd agree. Whatever, I just wanted to know you were okay."

Vallion reclined backwards, pulling her with him. His coils pushed a spot in the snow for them to lay, and though the ice bit at his scales, just having Panne near him seemed to be enough to fend off the cold. She was still so warm…

"Maybe I wanted to know if you were okay, too," he whispered.

"Of course not!" she groaned, rolling around in his grasp so that she could look up and press her nose into him. "This place is awful! The pokemon that live here are awful! It's always cold, and I feel like I haven't seen the sun in years! I can't find any good food outside of Post District, and it all costs a fortune cuz of the fucking supply laws and taxes! And they have these crazy portal transit things and I hate going in them because it makes me feel sick!"

He chuckled. "That good, huh?"

"And I got all wrapped up in something stupid trying to do work for Alexander. Met some pokemon that I thought were better than they were. Almost got my fucking neck slashed open by some other old Weavile that wasn't even related to Chenza. I spend like, weeks hunting down those bombs when-"

"You what?" Vallion interjected, craning his neck to look down at her.

She realized what she said, sighed, and twisted around to bury her face into him. "Dammit. I wasn't even gonna tell you that. I don't know why I did. Now it seems way worse than it was. I didn't end up dying, anyway, so it doesn't matter."

"What about when I told you to stay out of trouble when I was gone?"

"It's not my fault anyway," she muttered. "Tell trouble to stay out of me instead. I didn't even try this time!"

He clicked his forked tongue, tightening his coils to push the Delphox up and brushing his chin against the bridge of her nose. "Tch. Honestly! You're an absolute handful, you know that?"

"Yeah well you got tiny hands."

"I'll show you tiny hands." Vallion went to land a playful bite over her snout. She pushed him back, protesting in between fits of laughter and bites of her own. The ensuing tangle made it so they somehow ended up pressed against the nearby tree she'd thrown her staff into. It was impossible to shake her off, her nimble fingers digging into spots on his neck that only she knew about. He almost regretted picking the fight to begin with.

Not quite, but almost.

It was cold and unpleasant enough outside that things settled down rather quickly. Neither wanted to be apart from the other's body heat for too long. It had been much too long since he'd held her. The extra blankets he'd wrap around at night utterly failed to do this feeling any justice. The thought crossed his mind that he'd have to go back to the way things were after this. Back to clutching at extra sheets. Back to being a criminal, hated by most and feared by the rest.

A tiny spark drifted past his eyes, forcing him to refocus his vision. At first it just seemed like a trick of the eyes, but then there was another. Panne flicked a few more embers into the air above them, barely twitching her fingers to guide their drifting movements.

"We should dance again," she said, performing her little light show with a longing expression. "You know, like that flashy dance we do. Whatever we used to call it. It's been like two years since we've danced like that, and we only did it because everyone was begging for it. Dear Hearts Eve, I think. Why don't we do it more?"

"Because you only have one working leg?" Vallion said. "It's not as much of a dance as it used to be back when we both had more legs to work with. And most of the time you just say you have a headache."

"Psh. Just make me do it next time, then. I'll spite my future self all I want. You can totally quote me on this, too. One-time use."

He chuckled. "What do you think? Can you already feel yourself glaring into a mirror?"

"Oh I'm pissed." Panne let another few embers fly. "Absolutely livid, even. I'm gonna be tired, and my head's gonna hurt, and I'll have either eaten too much or not eaten enough, and the festival or whatever's gonna be too loud. And here I am, sitting here in the present, just laughing. What a bitch, right?"

"I don't think future Panne is a bitch."

"What about present Panne?"

The Serperior rubbed against the back of her ears. "I love all iterations of Panne."

"Oh, so you're just gonna avoid saying it, huh? Think you're so smooth, don't you?" Panne shifted around to position herself in the right place for a wide kiss. Different as their mouths were, their lips knew how to fit together. She murmured as they pulled away for a breath. "You should come back to the palace with me. For the night, I mean. I know you're just gonna run off and get sliced up on your own afterwards, anyway."

Vallion huffed out his nose. "You know I can't. Nobody's even supposed to know I'm out here with you. Getting remotely close to the palace itself is dangerous, let alone actually going inside."

"Hey! You're good at sneaking! I'm sure you'll manage just fine!" When he shook his head, Panne let out a whine. "Oh, fine! Be that way! We can get an inn or something, as long as it's not a shitty one! And you can probably sneak into this one if you really wanted to avoid being seen, but I don't really care about it either way."

"Geez. You're really gonna twist my leg about it, huh?"

She motioned like she was going to bite him again. "You're not funny, doofus. And you know damn well I don't wanna sleep on my own any more than I have to."

Vallion drew out his reply. "Ah, well. I guess I could maybe stand to get a room somewhere scenic. I suppose I could put up with you for-"

The Delphox really did bite him this time, grabbing him by the collar and pretending like she was going to thrash the piece off. It barely even hurt, more so causing him to laugh against his will.

"Alright, alright! You win! But you're gonna have to be the one that finds the place we're gonna stay at."

When she pulled away, her ears sprung right back up. "God, you're gonna make me do all that work? I better be as warm as Swirlix's fucking ovens on someone's birthday tonight or you're paying for every time we go out for a month once we get back."

"That's fine." He brought their noses together. The point of contact rolled down to their foreheads, snouts aligned towards the ground. "I love you."

...

A fluttering in the night, almost imperceptible to even the keenest of ears. A pokemon well-suited to the darkness flew through the urban hills of Redland District, darting between the valleys of tall houses to catch stray currents of wind. Although the snow had stopped falling for tonight, the Noibat felt the sting of every little particle of ice in the air. It never seemed to get any easier. Now, though, he'd passed the tipping point.

The slits in the temple's walls were still bright as he approached it. Nibby landed on the bottom corner of one of the rectangular holes, sinking halfway into the snow that had built up there. The torches shouldn't have been on this late at night. Runerigus shouldn't have been out this late, either, gripping a broom in her floating crystalline talons and sweeping the steps between the circular pews. His throat started to tighten at the sight. He flew down and landed on the back of one of the wooden seats, but Runerigus didn't acknowledge him in the slightest.

"You knew I was coming," Nibby spoke up.

The priestess gave a ghostly hum. "Heh-heh-heh. Of course I did, my child. It is an oracle's duty to know the future."

"Then you'll be able to tell me about my future."

Runerigus turned her draconic face towards him, a twinkle in her glass eyes. "It is not an oracle's duty to tell it, however. Not all destinies are entwined in prophecy. You know this, Noibat."

"Do I look like I care? The Hollow speaks through you, does he? Well tell 'im to wake the hell up and give me the time of day! I can sure as shit guarantee you that there's some prophecies I'd like to hear about!"

"My child…" she set the broom aside with a shrill tinkling sound.

"Don't you 'my child' me! Enough of this mysticism shit! If not my future, then tell me about Panne's! You know what Panne saw in that vision, don't you? From what she told me, there's gonna be hell to pay if we don't do something about it soon, cuz it seems to me like that future's coming fast!"

Runerigus shook her head. "That, Noibat, I do not know. It was the Hollow Himself that chose to grant her a glimpse into the future. Even if I saw the same vision, its meaning would be lost on me."

"Gah! Damn it all!" Nibby took off into the air. "Then I'll ask the bastard dragon myself! Maybe then I'll get some straight answers!"

He already knew the way. Around the pulpit, down the stairwell, into the inky black of the corridor that ran below the temple. It was dark enough that even his nocturnal eyes strained to pick out shape from the formless void. He felt the environment with his voice instead, emitting sharp screeches that showed him the curve of the path.

The screeches became curses when he reached the end. The corridor simply stopped, coming to a sheer wall of stone and brick and nothing more. He knew for a fact that there was supposed to be something here! Kyurem was hiding from him! He searched up and down the dead-end, angling himself to hear the shape of every nook and cranny, but there was nothing to find. It wasn't even hollow on the other side. It was just a solid wall.

Then came the fanfare of his defeat: the chime of several dozen glass shards bumping into each other. Runerigus slowly made her way down the hall, a torch held in her shadow of a hand. Having exhausted himself, Nibby could only bang against the stone with the bend of his wing, panting out his swears before the lack of sleep and stress forced him down. The adrenaline alone was enough to put spots in his vision.

"Open this...fucking door," he tried to spit out.

"There is no door," the priestess said. "And it would not be something I can open. Kyurem simply does not see fit to grant you an audience."

"And why…the hell…not?"

Her shrug looked more like a kaleidoscope. "Who's to say? I am not one to judge His ways, only interpret them. If you'd like, I can attempt to-"

"I don't CARE how you interpret them! I didn't come here to pray, or speak from any holy texts! I came here for answers, and I know you're the only damn person that can give them! So enough with your little priestess charade and give me what I need!"

The Runerigus started like she was about to say something, but let the thrumming echo of this tunnel consume the notion. A wave of sparkling lights reflected off the walls as she turned around and faced the other direction.

"...What?"

"I fooled myself for a moment, confusing a memory with a vision. You've done this before, haven't you? You came for answers after your partner's death."

Blue sparks started to build up in his throat, blasting out his nose in puffs of smoke. The effort to even do that hurt, but he was well past caring. "And you didn't give me any then, either! So give me them now, while there's still time to change the future! I'm not going through this shit again, you fate-forsaken window pane!"

"Lucario understood the vision that the Hollow gifted unto her, for she was faithful, and she knew that the threads of fate that He had laid out before her were already taut."

"She knew she wasn't coming back before she even left our door! She'd already known for weeks, and she still rode out towards her own death like a stupid fucking hero! If she would've just listened to me-" A shuddering cough left his frame. Tears. Again. His voice started to crack. "It didn't have to be that way! If she was so damn faithful, she would've remembered the teachings of the Bittercold! Fate can be changed! Destiny can be averted! She didn't- she didn't have to die!"

The cruel visage of Kyurem nodded its head. "And now you worry for Panne."

"I worry for everyone, dammit! Shit, I worry for myself! Everything's been coming down around me for years and now I'm caught directly beneath a crumbling ceiling! I never know whether I'm gonna wake up the next day with a claw across my throat! The least that frozen lizard could do is let me know if I'm gonna see the light of day when this is all over!"

The Runerigus turned herself towards him in a small vortex of flickering. "Oh, my dear child. How long you have lived in the shadow of an uncertain fate. The cruel ice has left you in the darkness for too long."

"I just want-!" he choked. "I just want the reason this is all happening. You can shove your pity for all I care. It's not going to help anyone. Divine intervention wouldn't even be enough to dig me out of this fucking hole."

Even the constant rattling sound of glass seemed to subside in the ensuing silence. Down here deep in the side of the hill, the slightest noise was intensified, and yet he could only hear himself choking back sobs. This was a waste of time. It had always been a waste of time. What would've changed?

"...And in time marching, that which will be is and has been. All falls into place where it is, not where it must be, for the path to the future is no different from the arrival. Our eyes and our hearts may obfuscate this truth in the now, but what is set in motion must come to peace. Even-"

"Be quiet," he cut her off.

"Even a wayward soul finds its home," she finished in spite of him. "Do you remember what that passage means, Noibat?"

Groaning, he faced the wall and hid his expression from the priestess. "It means we're all trapped with our mistakes until we give up and die, that's what it means. Nothing we do makes a lick of difference in the end."

"Kyurem once said that to one of His followers. They were lost in themselves, unable to foresee a future in which they ever found joy again. They had wandered north in an attempt to die, only to have found Him in their time of doubt. It was then that He turned them away with naught but those words."

"It's just a bunch of feel-good garbage about false hope! It never meant anything!" the Noibat shouted back. "If it did, Lucario wouldn't be buried six feet under!"

Runerigus made a sound that seemed like exhaling, despite the fact that she lacked the lungs to do so. "The Hollow, too, was once consumed by the notion that prophecy can only bring despair. Even He, who sees eternity in the floes, once made the choice to dwell on the darkness. Whatever it was that He showed your partner, it was not out of warning or evil, but out of absolution. Her vision was reassurance. Likewise, I believe that it is also His intention to keep your eyes covered."

"Well you can tell The Hollow to take His intentions and go to hell! I'm not some imaginary pilgrim written on a stone slab! This isn't some story to tell a starry-eyed congregation! There ain't a soul left in town who would give half a shit if I woke up dead tomorrow, and no fortune-telling scale-covered bastard was ever gonna come down and tell me otherwise!"

"Then why did you come to this place, Noibat, if you did not believe you would find any answers?"

No. No, fuck this. Nibby lifted off and zipped past the Runerigus, using the light her torch provided to surge through the length of the corridor and burst out the other side. He sailed up the far wall and came to one of the slits, coming to a sliding halt in the snow that nearly sent him out the other side. He let the cold bite at his ankles as he huffed from the exertion. Leave, he mentally screamed at his wings. Leave. Go. There was nothing for him here.

There he stood, back turned to the holy place, while a chiming sound emerged from below. She took her sweet time. She knew he would be waiting.

"His gift is the knowledge that your future is yet unmade," the ghostly voice called out to him. "Noibat. Take solace in the motion, for it is no different from the peace. Let the mist raise from your eyes and your heart. You are not alone."

Looking out into the distant twinkle of streetlights, Nibby took the final step off the ledge and caught the wind beneath his wings.

...

"May our threads intertwine into strands unbreaking, while the fates of our enemies fray and snap underneath the strain. Let us be safeguarded in our righteous path, ever approaching a result of truths and ideals, to find the rewards of the faithful and the strong."

"What are you doing?"

Freak opened his eyes to an empty tavern already scowling. "Praying, Chenza. Surely you're not so insensitive that you don't know what praying looks like."

Behind him, Chenza scoffed. "Why? What's Kyurem got to do with anything? I'm human, remember? Destiny is mine to control. Maybe people should be praying to me instead."

The discolored Swellow turned. Chenza had propped her legs up on one of the tables, grinning to herself while she changed her bandages from the burns she'd received several nights ago. In the strained light, the shadow of her claws danced on the wall behind her.

"There is a storm coming," Freak started to say. "Many more destinies will clash apart from yours. It's only prudent to say grace to The Hollow in the hopes that He will assure our victory."

She flicked a ball of used gauze into the corner. "Bah! That frozen snatch can shove it. I don't need any blessings to finish what I started."

"Well some of us actual pokemon might still need a little extra help. I didn't get this far without The Hollow's wisdom, after all. It was through His visions that I figured out that I was meant to follow you. Shardurr was the only path that led to the image of that burning cabin."

"The Matriarch was always gonna burn somehow. Doesn't matter if He got a lucky guess." Chenza reclined in her chair and reached behind herself to start sharpening her claws on its back.

Freak huffed and started to preen, the moment of piety thoroughly dashed. "The Hollow doesn't guess, but I suppose that doesn't mean anything to you, does it? Who knows? Maybe something good might come if you showed a little faith."

Brute's approaching march gave his presence away more than even his voice would. The Druddigon crashed through the swinging doors in his usual manner.

"Come. Now."

The Weavile rolled her eyes. "Why? I was just getting comfortable."

"The knight captain has come. He says he wants to talk."

Her eyes widened. She let the front legs of her seat fall back down, standing in the same motion. "Really, now? About what?"

"I don't fucking know," the dragon spat back. "He demanded you be the one to speak with him. He's come alone."

A fanged grin swept across Chenza's face. She shot a glance back at Freak, directing the malice back into him. "My, Freak. If you're trying to convert me, you're right on track. Why don't we take a little stroll and see why one of the most powerful pokemon in Paradise has paid us a visit?"

A bated breath had already gripped West District. What should've been a thriving, dangerous, profitable night-life had been reduced to silence. Even in Shardurr's decrepit little valley, it seemed that nobody was wasting any energy on petty squabbles and quick dimes. This was the epicenter of the kingdom's enemies, after all. Come tomorrow, nobody but those with the clearest of consciences was going to be safe, and that didn't describe a single soul in this pit of hell.

Shardurr's strongest took to the streets. Anyone that was still out took notice, and with the urgency that Chenza seemed to move with, several of those pokemon decided that they'd follow along. She was almost never seen moving along the roads unless something was wrong. By the time Brute finally stopped an intersection, they'd accrued ten or twelve followers just from walking through town.

A caped Kommo-o turned to greet them. Their exits had already been blocked off by another five gang members, though they probably wouldn't have stood a chance if the captain wanted to leave.

"Weavile." Their snarl alone was almost enough to shake the snow from trees. Their eyes quickly caught on the defiled knight's cape that Chenza insisted on wearing. The malice in their stare immediately surpassed what came across in their voice, like standing in front of a lit cannon.

"Ah-ah! It's Chenza. King Chenza soon enough. Your Majesty to you." She seemed to take almost too much pleasure in that look of hatred. "What brings you to my part of town, captain? Looking to die a hero's death? Or maybe you got the clever idea to get in my graces before it was too late?"

The Kommo-o clenched their fists so tightly that the metal plates on their wrists audibly scraped together. "Make no mistake. I will kill you, Weavile. I will spend my last breath hunting you down until you pay for the lives that you've taken, and if I survive that then I will tear down everything you have built until not even the history remains. Your time will come, and it will come soon, but not now. For tonight, I have come to talk."

She raised an eyebrow. "Hm! Never thought I'd hear that from a pokemon like you. What's the matter? Don't think you can take me on yet? If you're worried that we'll all strike at once, take solace in the fact that I'd much rather end you myself and let the witnesses tell the story."

"This is a waste of time," said Brute. "Let's just kill him and be done with this. This opportunity will not come twice."

Freak squawked down at him from the top of a street lamp. "Can it, you idiot! We don't even know what this is about yet. Kommo-o, I suggest you state your business before either one of them gets bored."

"Savages," the dragon sneered, gripping at the fabric of their cape. "As much as I loathe to give you even an ounce of my time, there is something we stand to mutually gain from. I believe that this will benefit Paradise more than it will benefit you. There is a traitor among your kind, Weavile, and I want them dead."

Chenza couldn't help but laugh. "What the hell are you on about? Of course your stinking double-agents are nipping at my heels! I already sniffed out Alexander's little helper."

"You didn't," they immediately replied. "They are still alive."

"Another, then? Well I'm sure it'll be very clear where they stand while I'm burning your city to the ground, so I'm in no rush to pick the weeds that you fucks planted in my garden. Apart from that, what do you want me to do about it? You're the leader of the knighthood, dumbass. Take out your own garbage."

"The Serperior you call Bright-eyes is not who they say they are."

Her grin vanished. The air seemed to fill with lead, weighing down the lungs of everyone present.

"...Alright. You got my attention."

"He and a Delphox came from Water Continent several months ago. They are members of the Expedition Society that Alexander hired to infiltrate and investigate your group of thugs. The both of them have caused a magnitude more damage to the city than they have prevented. I cannot detain the Delphox yet, as the Master of Law would surely tamper with the process and stop me, and the Serperior is out of my grasp within your ranks."

"Of course he is!" roared the Druddigon. "I was right! I knew I should have ripped his throat out in that bar, and yet you stopped me!"

The Weavile hummed to herself, running the tip of her claw over the crest around her neck. "That's quite the tale you're weaving there, captain. Maybe you think I'm inclined to believe you. Maybe I am. Still, it's the oldest trick in the book to turn allies into enemies, and I'm sure you're aware of how old-school I am. Care to elaborate?"

"The Serperior has a name. He is called Vallion, and like Alexander, he is a human. The Delphox is Panne. The both of them were-"

"What?"

Kommo-o grunted. "The both of them were part of the group that-"

"Stop fucking talking," Chenza asserted herself, shaking her head as she took another few steps towards the knight captain. "What the hell did you just call Bright-eyes? Did I hear that right? Did you just call him a human?"

Freak made a sound like he had started to choke, and in a panicked flurry of motion fluttered down from his perch. "Wait, hold on! A human named Vallion?! Are you insinuating that it's the same one?!"

Two jets of smoke left the Kommo-o's nostrils. "Are you fools really this daft? Yes, the one you call Bright-eyes is a human spy named Vallion. I will not say it again."

"Could he- Is he really-" the Swellow stuttered out.

"Freak. Stop trying to swallow your goddamn tongue and speak," said Brute.

"Of all the fate-forsaken… Chenza, I've heard of who Vallion is! Vallion is the Snivy who put an end to the Dark Matter! His partner was meant to be a Fennekin named Panne, and that Delphox who I told you was snooping around The Family asking suspicious questions showed up at the same time as Bright-eyes did!"

The Weavile went still, staring past the Kommo-o and into space. The confidence in her voice had deteriorated into a gasping wind. "You're not lying, are you? No, you're not. I would know if you were. You're telling me the complete truth. Was he really a human, all this time? How can you prove something like that?"

Shuddering, the Swellow raised his voice. "It's the scarf. Chenza, it's the striped scarf! The Snivy in the story had the exact fucking scarf that Bright-eyes wears! And the Delphox-this can't be a coincidence!"

"He is a liability to the both of us," Kommo-o continued. "Part of a long series of treacherous acts for which there is no punishment. I don't care for history-an enemy of Paradise is an enemy, no matter who they are. Dispose of this Serperior, or risk the consequences of his betrayal. This is the only help you'll receive from me!"

A growl started at the bottom of Chenza's throat. She lowered her eyes as the guttural noise grew into a screech of rage, and in an instant she lunged for the knight captain's jugular. The Kommo-o motioned to grab something from a sash beneath his cloak and raised their fist, crushing the crystalline object in their hand. Just as Chenza was about to make contact, a beam of light slammed down from the sky and stole the dragon away, whisking them to somewhere else and leaving nothing but two footprints in the snow where they'd once been standing. The remains of the wonder orb showered over Chenza's head.

She continued to scream at the top of her lungs, carving into the brick that the Kommo-o had once stood in front of. After gouging several inches out of solid stone, she whipped around and pointed to the hapless onlookers of the scene.

"All of you! Stop gawking and get the fuck out of my sight! And tell every boot-licking son of a bitch you know to prepare for the reckoning of their lives!"

The small crowd dispersed in seconds. Anyone whose head was poked out of a window slipped back in and slammed the shutters shut. Soon the only sound that echoed through the streets was Chenza's unbridled fury. Only her two subordinates remained to witness it.

"We know where he sleeps," Brute said, somehow the most calm one out of them all. "Let's end him before the morning comes, like we should have from the start. With our combined might, he won't be a challenge."

The Weavile hissed through her teeth. "Oh no you don't! You don't get to fucking touch him, lizard! Humans are MY prey! I'll tell you what you can do. You can march through West District and let every one of these slimy bastards know that it's time to take what's ours! Tomorrow night!"

All the while, Freak was still stammering. "Tomorrow? What do you mean tomorrow?! News of Persian's death hasn't even gotten out yet! If we move too early, we won't-!"

"You should stop talking," she quietly put. He shut his beak. "You, Freak. You'll be gathering up Redland District to fight for us. To fight against Paradise. This lockdown is for us, but it's more than enough of a catalyst to start the fires we need. By this time tomorrow, we will not be the same pokemon we are now. Paradise will be ours. Do. You. Understand?"

Breathless, the Swellow nodded.

"Then GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE AND GO!" She screeched, swiping a claw through the air. "Go ahead and tell everyone the good news! Tell it to every corner of the city! Tell the next damn town over! Tell them all there's gonna be a coronation tomorrow night, and they're all fucking invited!"