Foxfire: Part 3 - Flame

Both Miranda and Gideon shot to their feet.

"That was Flash!" he shouted. He took one step before Miranda managed to stop him, biting out at one of his arm blades.

"No!" she snapped, pulling him back. "If you go rushing off blindly, you are liable to scramble the whole city, losing me and any chance you have to get out alive." He struggled only a moment before relenting. "Besides, did you not say it was better for us to escape ourselves?"

"It would be," he said, rubbing at where she'd bit him, "if we were searching blindly. But we have a lead." He took a deep breath. "But... if you think we should still leave..."

"No." She shook her head. "I agree. But do not rush recklessly. That came from... yes." She turned back to her crude map. "There. That direction. It came from where the park ought to be."

"Do you think the wild Pokémon are all congregated there?"

"It is possible—a defense mechanism for those who stumbled through the maze against impossible odds, perhaps." She traced the path in her head. "I have it. Follow me—stay close."

He placed one limb upon her back again, and she walked—faster this time, with purpose. She could still sense the Gallade's tension—but it too was now focused, directed. This was closer to the adjutant she knew, able to be directed, a useful tool—

Though she did pause a bit as that thought crossed her mind. Tool. Like he was a hammer—or a sword. She would not rush deeper into a dungeon to save a sword. But here she was, moving headlong—for a soldier. For Flash. And, Ember willing, for Calder.

Bah. Hundreds of years of servitude, of wearing the mask, of loyalty, and yet so quickly it was all coming unraveled. Perhaps she still had a beating heart inside of her somewhere.

That thought was almost as scary as having to decide what to do when all of this was over. But no—a problem for later.

As they crossed the threshold into what ought to have been the Willow Dun city park, for the first time, the forest itself seemed to change. The branches overhead grew thicker, drowning out yet more of the false light, leaving everything in a murky gray ambience. So too did the ground beneath turn difficult; thick root patterns and actual foliage sprouted, forming walls and difficult terrain that restricted passage. In a way, it was a relief; Miranda was able to let go of her second sight, the overlaid city vanishing from view and allowing her to focus on what was actually in front of her.

Along with the increased density came the sound of habitation—movement in the underbrush, the calls of wild Pokémon. So that supposition, at least, had been correct. Once it was clear he could guide himself, Gideon had let go of her, stepping back a short distance and raising his blades in case anything dared to approach.

The path seemed to twist and wind weirdly, but the underlying sense of knowing where she was hadn't diminished. She was still welcome even here, it seemed. Her realization of its nature ought to have ejected her, she knew; dungeons did not take kindly to that kind of self-awareness, and when one realized that one had become part of its population, one was almost always summarily rejected, turned into a stranger. But while the dungeon's environment was not conducive to her happiness, its aura, its... will, she supposed, was still perfectly welcoming to her.

When she set a paw down and felt liquid, she stopped, growling and drawing back. The thick brush had parted before her to reveal the beginnings of a swamp. Yet it was shallow enough that it did not reach the tops of her paws, and it remained the only path forward, so she took it, careful to keep her tails raised far enough that they would not get caught in the muck. The pleasant scent of the willows gave way gradually to the rank smell of the fetid water.

Once or twice, out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement—gone too quickly to identify. But, she supposed, if the dungeon was welcoming her, then the wild Pokémon should have seen her as, if not a friend, then at least not a threat. She hoped that much held true for Gideon as well.

Now, the path was more defined by where she threatened to sink. She had taken to using her extrasensory ability to put slight pressure on the path before herself, testing for weak ground or for dips that signified a plunge into actual swamp water. The infinite forest from earlier was hidden by a pallid fog, peppered here and there by will-o'-wisps.

"This..." Gideon started. "Well, honestly, I'll take this to the outer dungeon, or whatever it was." She heard him pause, a few steps behind her, and she slowed to a stop, raising one paw to just to keep it from resting in the shallow mud. "Do you hear that?"

She flicked her ears again. Nothing. She rolled her eyes and was about to tell him as much when he raised a blade.

"No, Magister—that's precisely my point. It's quiet. The wild ones are gone. But surely they should still be here? There are plenty of Pokémon that would be at home in a marsh."

They both turned as, from nearby, there came the sound of metal scraping on metal—and a pained warbling that Miranda identified as Calder. She pushed on, powering her way through a thick curtain of willow switches—

And stopped. Gideon cut through the switches with a grunt, rushing to catch up. When he reached her, he, too, hesitated.

"Ah..." said a voice that rang familiar in Miranda's mind.

An island rose from the murk surrounding it. Upon it sat a sturdy brick house with a wooden fence and a single willow, which leaned out over the fetid water. Miranda knew this house. And she knew the creature that sat, cross-legged, behind the wooden fence.

"Your song on the wind..."

A thick, robelike coat of fur, layered from pale cream to vibrant orange. Tall, fluffy ears swiveled in the direction of the newcomers. In one paw, a branch—solid and firm, not a bending, weak willow switch—which, at the very tip, burned brightly like a will-o'-wisp in the dark.

"Melody," said the Delphox warmly. "My dear. My sweet thing." He stood, pushing himself up with ease and walking toward the fence. "My beautiful Melodia. How you've grown. Welcome home."

Miranda stared, jaw slack, but found herself after just a second. "No. Impossible."

"Impossible?" Her father held out his arms. "That's hardly the first thing I'd like to hear from my daughter after so long apart." He clicked his tongue. "I raised you better than that. If you want proof, come up here, then."

He waved the wand in one paw. The air shimmered, and, though Miranda was quite sure there hadn't been any before, there were now steps leading up from the swamp and onto the island.

Miranda didn't move. Behind, she sensed Gideon's confusion.

Her father's smile never wavered. "I realize it's hard to see through the fog, and the, hmm, condition of the town has led to something of an overpowering scent. Come up here. See for yourself. It's me, Melody."

"My name is Miranda," she snapped.

The Delphox sighed a longsuffering sigh. For the first time, he turned his attention past Miranda. "You'll have to forgive her."

Gideon's reply came out as a long, uncertain "Err..."

"Well, since she won't introduce me..."

"You are dead," Miranda interjected with a growl.

"My name is Pytho," he finished patiently. "It is not a flattering name, but it is mine. And you are already familiar with Melody."

Miranda's head swiveled as she glared daggers back at Gideon. "That is not my name," she said in a low, insistent voice.

The Gallade nodded to her, and then addressed the Delphox. "It's... a pleasure, sir. My name is—"

"Gideon, yes," Pytho said smoothly. "Your companions were kind enough to tell me."

"Where are they?" Miranda growled.

"Such hostility." Pytho raised both paws in a placating gesture. "They are in the house, Melody."

"Stop calling me that!"

For the first time, the Delphox's friendly demeanor shifted as the smile fell from his face. "It's what I named you, Melodia. It's what you were called for your whole childhood in this town." He shook his head. "And what is Miranda anyway? A name bespeaking physical beauty—a vanity. I raised you better than that." He tapped his wand on the edge of the fence. "Now please, come up here. I'd like to put the steps away so no uninvited guests find their way up here, if you take my meaning."

Miranda's eyes flicked to the stairs, then up to the Delphox. Without taking her eyes off of him, she slowly stepped forward and up onto the island. Gideon followed. She kept her distance from the Pokémon wearing her father's face; when he attempted to step toward her, she stepped back.

This elicited a shrug. "Suit yourself." With a wave of the wand, the steps back down into the swamp vanished. He sat cross-legged again, watching her carefully. "My, how you've changed. You used to toddle up to strangers and introduce yourself without a second thought. Now you treat your own father as a stranger. I suppose that's to be expected after Amos kidnapped you."

She narrowed her eyes.

"I take it that's not how you remember it. Or perhaps," he added, looking her in the eye, "it is that you don't remember at all, but you doubt my words all the same." His grin returned, slightly sharper this time. "Was it Amos who named you Miranda? A strange, foreign-sounding name. A human name. Like his. Though I suppose," he muttered, sparing a glance to Gideon, "that such things have become commonplace these days. What a strange place the world outside must be."

"Sir?" The Gallade sounded mildly offended.

"Forgive me," Pytho said, smiling apologetically. "I do not often get company, so my manners... may have slipped."

Miranda's eyes flared violet, and she surged her psychic power forward. Pytho's wand waved, the flame at the tip brightening and burning with the same supernatural glow, and Miranda felt her power melt away uselessly. "That's quite enough of that," he said with open disapproval. "What sloppy form. I suppose you would have had to be self-taught, but there's no excuse for brute force."

"Enough of this farce." Miranda's voice was like ice. "Willow Dun was destroyed three centuries ago. The whole town was razed for harboring dissidents. The Black Division of the Resistance was headquartered in the quarry at the time. There were less than a dozen survivors from the town, most of them children—and the Resistance escaped with nary a single casualty to boot."

"And I suppose it was Amos who told you that, too," said Pytho casually.

"It was Amos who led us to safety! And no—there were formal reports, filed by the military—"

"Mm, yes." He wasn't watching her now. He was holding the wand upright and staring directly into the flame. The orange beacon occasionally flickered with supernatural pink and purple. "Led you to safety Somehow. Using a path that wasn't being monitored. No. What happened here was not the Master's fault."

"Are you calling me a liar?" Miranda spat. "Even if my memories are untrue, Pythopyros would be long dead. You are not him."

The Delphox let out a long, weary sigh, sagging a bit. "Melodia. My sweet little ditty. I am sorry for what the world has done to you. What it will still do to you. How miserable and mean you are—how far you've fallen, into this petty, vain thing. I should never have let Amos stay with us."

"How dare you!?" she snarled, leaping to her paws. This... thing, whatever it was, wearing her father's face—she would not let it stoop to slander. She rushed toward him, fangs bared.

He stood. The wand in his paw flickered, burning bright purple, and Miranda felt herself be lifted off the ground. Her eyes burned with her own extrasensory power, but her every attempt to free herself was blocked. Not overpowered—though he was certainly stronger than she was—but rather dismantled piece by piece, erased as soon as she attempted it.

Behind, she heard Gideon spring into motion as well. He made it further than she had, arm blades surging with shadowy power that sliced through Pytho's first few attempts to restrain him. The Delphox stepped back out of the way of a particularly close Night Slash, then brought up the wand to block the followup. Somehow, despite its apparent thinness and Gideon's not inconsiderable strength, the wand held.

Pytho pushed back, spinning the wand in one paw while the other completed a complicated gesture that Miranda's eyes could not totally follow. The free paw surged forward, shining with an eye-aching darkness, striking Gideon in the stomach and pushing him back, and then the Delphox lashed out with the wand in his other hand, a strange, ethereal gleam surging toward the Gallade, knocking him prone. He groaned, but did not rise.

"Gideon!" Miranda attempted to wrench herself free, but she could barely move her limbs and had nothing to grant herself traction. "You foul creature—"

"All this power you wield," Pytho said, venom in his voice. "But every ounce of it comes from me. I know your patterns and your tricks—your methods and your spells. A secondhand mage if ever there was one." He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "And your... companion. What a noble Pokémon—styling himself a knight and a protector. Yet he trembles in fear and wields shadow and shade. More a knife in the dark than a gleaming hero, that one. But like attracts like, doesn't it, Melodia?"

The wand tipped down. The force suspending Miranda inverted, slamming her into the ground at speed and knocking the wind out of her. Though she struggled to stand, the pressure did not abate, and the best she could do was glare at the Delphox as he took a few careful steps toward her.

"Cruel, twisted creature." All the warmth was gone from his face and voice. Somehow he seemed to loom taller and larger than he ever had, voice laced with acid and hate. "What a disappointment you turned out to be. As you approached, I saw your mind, dove into your past. Subterfuge and deception. Espionage. Torture and execution. All in the name of law and order."

Miranda snarled, flame flickering around her jaw, still attempting to force herself back up.

"For a better world, you say." Pytho stopped a short distance away, staring down at her dispassionately. "For safety and security. But you struggle in vain. Three centuries, Melodia—three centuries you have dedicated yourself to the cause of a dead thing, a faceless shadow and the sycophant who follows his orders from beyond the grave. Nothing has changed. The struggle goes on. Resistance and Master—law and chaos—and yet because neither side can lose, neither side can win. Pointless recursion, spiraling forever."

"I will not...!" Miranda finally gathered her paws underneath herself and began to push. "...be lectured...! by the voice of a dead Pokémon...!"

Pytho shook his head. "You already have. You already are. Every day. What difference does it make whether or not you know its face?" He sighed. "Yes. I am dead. But you yourself know that the dead can linger. The great beyond is a path that one must choose to walk. I lingered here, at the very center of this erosion in time and space, to wait for the day you would return. I wove myself into the burgeoning dungeon, taking every root and wall and ripple into myself, that I might see my beloved daughter again—but I see now I was wasting my time."

He held the wand forward. Miranda was pulled inexorably toward it, the flame just out of her reach. It burned brightly before her, but for all its light it emitted no warmth. "In their youth, all Braixen find a focus—a wand. It is what grants us our power over Fire and Mind. With enough time and dedication, we can use it to be like Xatu—to stare into the blinding radiance of flame and find future and truth."

It burned brighter. Miranda's eyes screwed shut from the intensity of the light. As he spoke, Pytho's voice grew increasingly intense. "But only us. You look and see nothing. Only we can derive meaning from flame. It is our gift—the pride of our Ember, to guide others along the correct path. The path of wisdom. All others seek flame for destruction—but for us it is guidance and salvation."

The light faded. Miranda opened one eye, glaring down at the figure of her father. He had turned to the side, staring into the light of the wand's flame. "Of course, we cannot see everything. And not everything we see is destined to pass. But there is always something. A path forward." He sagged again, as though shouldering a great weight. "Your future was so bright, Melody. Full of love and kindness and happiness. Not a perfect life, no—but a happy one. Until he came. Until you found Amos on the hill."

She was halfway to standing by now. Pytho's attention was still on the wand, expression morose. "I fell for the allure, too, of course. Every Pokémon desires the sort of companionship that Amos enjoyed for a time. It's in our nature." He shook his head, voice turning bitter. "I should have known better. Especially once I looked into the flame and saw you—standing in the ruins of your village as it burned. Standing over his corpse, victorious. To think that you would doom your hometown twice..."

(the street is busy, but she only has eyes for Amos; she is following him around as he learns what is where; she sees the wonder in his eyes, but she has wonder only for him, he who traveled so far to find peace and happiness in a place without humanity)

She managed a single step toward him. "What... are you... saying?"

(but her father has already told her that Amos' origins must be kept secret; that if he is to tell anyone, he must tell them on his own terms; she is allowed, even encouraged, to be curious, he says; and so she cannot help but ask the question)

"The curiosity of a child is a dangerous thing," he said wistfully. "To speak so earnestly and openly, and into the wrong ears. All it takes is one word on a busy street..." He finally looked at her as she managed another step toward him. He seemed unconcerned by her approach. "Was the Master already dead at that point, do you suppose? Was it already Enigma's voice that barked the order? Her gesture that issued the command?"

Miranda opened her mouth.

(Melody opens her mouth)

She drew on the deepest parts of herself, carmine eyes burning bright as she gathered her strength and leapt—not at him, but for the wand held loosely in front of him. He flinched, but her jaw was already wrapped around it tight; she gripped, pulled, and, flames licking at her lips, brought her teeth together. The true flame of her Ember bit into the wood, which immediately began to hiss and smoke.

There was a snap.

("what will you do," she asks)

Pytho screamed in pain as the wand caught fire and split apart in her maw. For the first time, he let go of it—and the image flickered and died. He had never been there, not really—only his essence trapped in the focus, an image projected of a body lost to time.

("in a world with no master?")

She spat the branch from her mouth and turned to Gideon, who remained prone and motionless on the ground nearby. She rushed toward him—

An explosion roared behind her, a deafening blast of both fire and psychic force. She tumbled head-over-tails and slammed into the fence with a grunt. Gideon, still inert, flopped next to her. The only sign that he still lived was a pained groan on the impact. Her head was ringing and her mind was full of static, but with a stupendous effort she managed to push herself forward onto her paws again. Where the pieces of her father's focus had lain was now a roaring bonfire, burning orange and flickering with pink and purple light. In the middle, vaguely, she could decipher the Delphox's shape, shimmering and uncertain like a heat haze.

Heat and force radiated outward from the fire, and Miranda braced herself in front of Gideon, spreading her tails wide as though to protect him.

Only here, came her father's voice, but it was as if the wood itself were speaking. Only now. Compassion blooms in your heart. Compassion at the cost of cruelty. Life and death. A warmth in your heart, lit by love. Will it wither and die? Only the flame knows.

The image of the Delphox in the pyre was watching her closely, staring into her soul. She did her best to stand straight and tall, meeting his gaze.

Death hounds you. Yveltal drapes Her shadow over you, nipping at your heels, a predator toying with Her prey. Amos came to Ambera to escape death, but found you. Willow Dun dies once and dies now again. The innocent child Melodia dies in the wake of the assault, and Mirandalys lives in her place. You serve a Master who has already succumbed to death, and the specter at his right hand echoes his voice forever. You chase rebels to murder them and their ideals. Lykaios flees into the darkness and never returns. Amoscandar prostrates himself before you, and he is slain. Zonaphèras seeks you out, then rejects you, throwing himself into a life of suffering and rebellion. Even your new home. Consumed by Fire. Crushed by Mind.

The flame flickered. Pytho's silhouette held out a paw toward her, pointing an accusatory claw.

Only you live. Only you. Watching as the world around you spirals into madness. Pointless recursion. Life into death. Forever. You scramble to make sense of a senseless world, and in the name of fostering vitality, you bring destruction. It is inevitable.

"No—!" It wasn't pointless. It wasn't. It had to matter. Something had to matter. She had to matter. "I—!" It was hard to hear herself think over the roaring of the flame. "I will—choose for myself!"

Then choose.

The world wrenched as if in pain, and her father's pyre blasted outward one more time in a wall of light and force. Miranda threw up a psychic ward to blunt the worst of it, watching as the energy surged past. The wooden fence at the edge of the island began to crack, and she turned to grab onto Gideon with her jaw, though that proved to be unnecessary as the force finally petered out.

She released Gideon, gasping. The whole ambience of the dungeon had changed; the fire had not simply been for effect. In the distance, the trees were burning, and a deep dread gripped at Miranda's heart. On some base, primal level, she felt it—the dungeon shuddered, gasped, and began to die.

With some effort, Miranda wrested Gideon's inert form onto her back and rushed toward the house as quickly as she could. Her psychic power pushed the door open and she stood at the threshold.

Inside there was darkness—deep and foreboding, swallowing up the light from the burning swamp outside.

"Flash!" she called. "Calder!"

Nothing. From behind, there was the crack of splitting wood and a splash as burning willow switches fell into the water.

She could have hidden in the house—but the darkness on the other side gave her pause. To push deeper into the dungeon as it collapsed would be beyond foolish. To stay outside would be no better—she could probably manage to live through the forest fire, but the burning and acrid air would almost certainly kill Gideon.

She called one more time, hoping against hope. But the shadow of the deepest dungeon seemed to swallow her voice.

Life or death. She could push on, and potentially doom all four of them, herself included. Or...

Gideon stirred briefly on her back. "Ma...gister..."

Miranda stared into the abyss. Then, with a snarl, she turned away. "Hold onto me," she shouted over the ever-loader roar of the flames.

Gideon gripped her tightly. She ran.