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As the Golden Company went westward around the Crimson Mirelands, the dread grew ever greater.

The freezing, putrid wind was redolent of the stench of the nearby marshlands. In the eviscerated wastes that surrounded the vast swamp nothing grew, except for leperous growths that fed on decay and filth. Vile vapors of toxic sulfur seeped out of geysers in the black ground, saturating the air, making it suffocating and corrosive, a foul reek in the back of everyone's mouths. Hunting was impossible, as no bird or beast had made their nest, except long-lived creatures of some wicked nature, prone to evil.

To Rei, even the loathsome sight of the putrid marshes was bearable compared to the horrific sight that lay all about the plain. It was as if the great mountains had vomited the filth of their entrails upon the land. Great, churned-black rows of crushed, poison-stained rock lay all about, like an obscene graveyard. The sky was filled with constant cloud cover, and the sun was hardly seen.

Not even a single Pokémon dwelt here, for the company had come upon the great desolation that lay before the Ered Engrin, the Iron Mountains. Yawning, stagnant pools of ash-choked water bred foul things, while monoliths of tormented stone stood sentinel across the gasping dust. The travelers had come to the Great Battle Plain, so wholly destroyed and fire-blasted by wars innumerable, diseased and defiled beyond all reckoning, that it could not be healed by any means, except if the Original One willed it, or the Great Sea came inland and washed it into oblivion.

The only glimpse of hope that Rei saw was that the mountains grew just a little closer every day, the great peaks becoming clearer to his weary eyes. There was no shortage of food, and the Avaluggs produced clean, fresh nodules of ice that Magmar heated into the water to be drunk by the company, with double shares going to the woman.

Yet, it seemed that some dark will was completely bent on the little group, slowing their movements and strengthening their terrible despair. Rei's Typhlosion could no longer produce flames, as no pure spirits resided in this forsaken plain. For they were in the domain of the power of the Enemy, as the land here had recoiled when the Evil One had been cast to Earth, making it foul even before the great battle between Kyogre and Groudon a millennium ago, when all the lands had been changed.

One day, the fellowship had come too close to the fell marsh. Indistinct shapes reached out of the mist, every inclination of their Willpower bent on entrapping the little group. In that time, Adaman had crept off to gaze into the pools of swamp water, looking into the depths. He swore that he saw things that walked and looked like Men inside the pools, and Iscan and Laventon had to pull him back with the aid of their Pokémon to prevent him from jumping in.

"That was mighty foolish of you!" Cyllene had told Adaman. "There are spirits and spirits, you know quite well, and the ones that have power over this land are the worse kind, the ones that followed the Enemy. If you go off drowning in pools of foul water, the journey will all be for naught! You saw the wraiths of the Hisuians that have perished in the Mirelands over the years, and they were once noble and beautiful. But now they are all foul, all rotten, all dead. Have nothing to do with them or their corpse-lights."

After that, Laventon had made sure to go at least a league away from the mirelands at all times, to prevent similar events from occurring again. Rei felt no ill will to Adaman for his temptation. The Diamond Clan leader had grown to maturity in a land of green hills and sun, and it was even more intolerable for him to stay in this wretched place than any other. It could even be understandable that he would wish for the mirelands, where there was at least some faint shadow of green spring that could be seen.

Five days later, the end of the abominable desolation could be seen through Lian's magnifiers on a clear day, the waste giving way to rolling, grey foothills that merged with the misty, indomitable mountains. The group was in high spirits, and a pack of carrion Mandibuzz had been also been seen. "Better some living things than none at all!" Akari had joked. "Soon enough, we will be out of this terrible place! Let us be merry, for the mountain foothills are a fair country."

At the northern border of the desiccated marshes, the group made a little camp. In two more days of straight travel, they would have escaped the black waste, and would begin to climb the mountains to whatever fate would await them in the Ered Engrin. A few small flakes of snow had fallen as well, giving a brief respite from the detestable monotony of the sulfurous air.

Once everyone was asleep, Laventon and Iscan both went on guard. It seemed in the pale-corpse light of the moon, that the swamp was growing darker and more terrible. "Just a trick of the eyes!" Laventon had said. "Our fancies are running about wild in this accursed place."

A time later, Iscan swore he heard faint but regular patterns of footsteps. Using his trained night-eyes, he went all around the encampment, checking for some creature or lone bandit. Finding none, he went back to the camp.

Where Laventon and his Gurdurr would have been waiting, no one was there. Iscan went around the camp, and saw that everyone was accounted for, except for Laventon and his Pokémon.

Iscan drew his war-axe, and yelled for Laventon to return from wherever he had gone.

"I am over here! Follow my voice!"

Laventon's voice was coming toward him, from the stench-filled mirelands. "Come here! I have found something strange!"

Under normal circumstances, Iscan would have been more cautious, essaying to awaken the rest of the Company before venturing to find the man of science. But he was tired and full of despair, and the dark aura and power of the black land was bending his will to its wishes. Invisible demons whispered words of frenzy into his heart, edging him on, dulling his wits.

Iscan ran toward the voice, his armor making a terrible din in the stale battle-plain. Every time he thought that he had found Laventon, having come across the barren patch where he had sworn to have heard the journeyman's voice, the calls seemed to be pushing him ever closer toward the marsh.

Once he was witless and filled with terror, Iscan had reached the threshold of the swamp, a foul foetor emitting from the rotten growths, biting gnats surrounding him. In a panic, he realized that Laventon would have never wandered into the mirelands...and that he had left the camp unguarded! Stupid! Foolish! Worthless!

As the warrior started to run into the dark night, a strong arm seized him from behind and blew a breath of white spores into his nose.

His eyes darkening, Iscan felt the darkness closing in, and he wildly swung his axe. The noble blade struck true. A ghastly scream and an writhing object flying into the shadows reaveled that he had cut off the hand of at least one of the things. Satisfied, Iscan surrendered his Will to the sleep, the last thing he saw then was Laventon's bound, slumbering body, besides the jackbooted foot of a masked cultist.

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Rei awoke with a start. A jarring feeling moved through his body. He was vaguely aware of a constriction around his wrists and feet, and a horrible stench all around.

He took in the loathsome surroundings and realized that he was tied to something, something that was moving into the depths of the Crimson Mirelands. Moving his frantic gaze to his sides, he saw Lian and Akari still sleeping, with Iscan also slumbering to his right.

From the rough texture of the creature he was tied to, Rei assumed that it was likely a Gyarados slithering across the thick bog. What caught his attention more was a man that was walking with the Pokémon, his rag-covered back to Rei. The cultist was holding a crude spear, and dressed in black leather strips with a foul mask on his face that bore the likeness of some terrible dome, fastened with dried reed ties on the back of his head.

No! We really went from the frying pan into the fire this time! Taken in the night, by the Enamorus Cult! Think, Rei, you fool! What do I do?! Is anyone else awake?!

Rei started to formulate some desperate plan of escape. He still had his Capture Balls tied to his leather belt, something that the cultists had not yet taken. He could press his body up against the Gyarados roughly enough to open them, but then what would be done? He was in the place of the Power of the Mbelekoro and Enamorus, and his wits would not avail him. Even if he freed his friends and slew the guard, (although Rei assumed that there were more out of his sight) they would be lost in the swamp, without any sort of possibility of finding their way out unhindered. Their Pokémon had likely been left at the little camp, or were being carried by the Gyarados as well.

If the Cultists were taking them to some terrible dwelling, a place that Adaman had mentioned in passing that was called the Scarlet Bog, then maybe it would be better to escape when he arrived and all his faculties were available to him. Closing his eyes, he could remain aware with the guard still thinking that he was asleep, and thus would not put him to a dead faint again.

Soon enough, an argument broke out between two of the cultists. Later, Rei would say that their speech was far more filled with twisted words and brutal jargon than he told of, but answered that if one wished to hear such a tongue, they might go and listen to the evil-minded, to whom wicked speech and cruel slander passes for eloquence and wisdom.

"Adramalech! What did you give these prisoners? The usual, or something new that the Big Boss came up with? Ai! Answer me, scum!"

"Amoonguss spores, as always! Rofocale, I never slip up! Do you want to be gutted for failure? We'll have your entrails thrown to the urkil from the Northern Wastes the next time they come around!"

"Fine!" Rofocale spat. "We can't let these know about th' sacrifice...and two of these, that swarthy southman and the long-haired tarkul, Hisuian warrior, were responsible for the death of Chief Ishtar! I would cut em' up now, but the spawn will give Enamorus quite a meal! The Mbelekoro will favor 'is enemies more than scattered low-men..."

"The chief did want these particular folk before he was killed...at least we have them now!"

"Maybe we shoulda brought back that maggot Iblis for the sacrifice," A third cruel voice said. "The insect was whining and whimpering about how that axeman cut off 'is hand. Good thing we fed 'im to the Gyarados! How that bugger screeched! Gyahahaha..."

Going to sacrifice us? I certainly will not stand for that...interesting that they are named after the foul spirits that their masks resemble. And they also seem to have a lack of Pokémon. Part of their defeat at Kirobara was that the overwhelming number of fighters were on the side of the Men of Hisui...do they have a reason for their lack of the Firstborn Children of Arceus? Do they consider them lesser, against all reason?"

Two more hours passed, and Adramalech decided to apply another dose of drowsing Amoonguss spores. When Rei heard the man coming around to put him into an even deeper sleep, he took a long, silent inward breath, and when the cultist blew the spores, he was able to breathe outward naturally without arousing any suspicion. Rei saw Adramalach look away through slitted eyes, and he held his breath until the spores dispersed shortly after.

Rei quietly prayed to Arceus for the rest of the three hours before he arrived at the Scarlet Bog. He certainly would need all the help that he could get, and if the Original One was to intervene, no more opportune time seemed apparent. But the One Above All worked in strange ways, and as Volo had said, His plans and designs were full of the most unlikely strategies to benefit His chosen people and His reign on Imbar.

The Crimson Mirelands were, truly, crimson. Red-tinted plants grew on the patchy, scattered islands surrounded by clouded, filth-filled water. A few Pokémon roamed here and there, eating the strange flora to an ill end. Rei had heard from Cyllene that the reason that the Mire was so red was because of all the blood that had been shed fighting in it o'er the many years, either that of the servants of the Enemy or the brave Men of Hisui.

After another short time, the Gyarados arrived in the village at the Scarlet Bog. Rei did not see the rituals or rotting buildings before he was shoved into a moldering wooden cell with the other members of the journey, but he heard terrible ululations and inhuman howls coming from somewhere deep in the village.

Once the iron cell door had been locked and closed with a groan by the guard, Rei saw that there were no Cultists in the cage. Either they had grown overconfident, or there were not enough of them to spare. Since Rei was still bound, he slowly put the notch of the button on the Apricorn Capture Devices against the rotting wooden wall. Sneasler came out, and immediately fell silent when Rei hushed it.

"Take the ropes off me and the others," Rei whispered. "Then we shall see if we can disguise ourselves, and escape back to the place we had been taken."

Sneasler cut the ropes with its dark violet claws, and to Rei's surprise, Adaman woke with a start, springing upward with the alertness of one who had only pretended to be in a faint. "Ah! I have been waiting for this. In my youth, I studied how to resist such poison as the certain kind that was used...the spores were intended for younger humans, and I am the eldest, although I may not look my years. Such is the long life of the Men of Hisui."

However, no one else could be stirred. Instead, the two who were awake made a council and planned their strategy. They would attack the guard that came to fetch them for whatever dark purpose, and disguise themselves as cultists to make their escape with the others.

While they were waiting through the late day, Rei looked out a small hole in the damp wood, and saw a horrific sight.

Only poetry or the calls of Pokemon could have done justice to the noise. Rei nor any other members of the Golden Company would give a full account of what precisely they had seen, although they knew but one thing: they had seen such wicked morbidities and acts of perversity that even the fair flower-filled meades of Hisui would be poison to them as long as the memory endured. Only death or forgetfulness would aid them, or some healing upon Earth that they could not guess at.

Twenty other captives were lying blindfolded in a writhing row, while the Cultists brayed, bellowed, and shrieked around a great carven stone pole with a roaring bonfire at its base. The frenzy was such an indescribable horde of un-human abnormality that all descriptions did not do it justice. Looking at the more bearable details of the dreadful scene, Rei saw that at the top of the pole was a creature whose face resembled the mask that the war-chief had worn during the battle at Kirobara Outpost. It had a body like a curled-up snake's tail, and a pink midsection with two humanoid arms, raised like a sire ready to feed its many filthy whelps.

The being was not moving, but Rei felt some sort of imperceptible life to the graven image. It was as if it was merely sleeping, and not just some dead idol, so alike to the beings worshipped by Wild Men. The chants directed at the thing were not disorganized ululations, but rather a kind of prayer, headed by a great man with a war-mask of bones and a robe of some kind unidentified of fur, troublingly close to human hair.

"Oh, great Asherah Enamorus, glorious Mother and Father," the Cultist said, in a surprisingly cultivated voice. "Ever-Fluid One, may the evening sacrifice that you are about to receive stimulate your many lovers, so that their emissions will water this parched land. And may your father, the Great Evening Star, who is derided as the Evil One by our enemies, rise to victory against the False One who calls Himself the Original One, the God of the Whole World. Ai, ai! Look favorably upon our sacrifices! Let our words be as..."

Trembling and nearly hypnotized with horror, Rei turned away from the unholy sight. Adaman did not attempt to look upon the ecclesiastical frenzy, and waited by the door, his hands ready to seize the neck of any that entered in a deadly vice. Soon enough, the two heard a curiously regular and ever-increasing sound of footsteps.

A cultist with a mask that bore the likeness of a deceased goat went into the cell, and he saw everyone still asleep. With a hiss, Sneasler grabbed his neck from above, and Adaman quickly scrambled up and seized his curved blade, and Rei grabbed his dagger about his reed waistband.

The man tried to break free, but Sneasler twisted his neck before he had the opportunity to cry out. The sound of the neck shattering was so loud that it was a wonder that it did not alert the man's fellows downstairs.

Adaman grabbed his mask and garb, and disguised himself in the old rags. "Come quickly, we must hurry! Night falls and more will come once they notice our absence."

As Rei was about to go, he looked at the dead man's face for the last time. He was young, and heavily scarred, with cruel brands about his cheeks and forehead. In the depths of his heart, Rei wondered if he was truly evil, what lies had convinced him to become a slave to the Enemy, and if he would have rather stayed in his homeland, where the grass grew long and green, and true friends and family lived.

He was then hurried along by the older warrior, who looked nearly indistinguishable from the fallen cultist, although perhaps taller and more upright. From outside, a man who had a mask like a maddened bull saw him, and stepped into the ruined shack, wishing for a report.

"Oi! Baphomet! How are th' meals doin'? We ain't got all night, and Enamorus is gonna get real 'ungry soon! Once we get the sacrifices started, you know how th' Lord 'n Lady gets! 'Member th' time the Big Boss came down and Enamorus didn't have nothin'? That was a flogging to never forget!"

"They're doing well," Adaman replied, in a remarkable change of voice. "Ain't too damaged. Still sleeping like babes."

The cultist narrowed his eyes behind the mask, and sounded rather queer. "Hey! Y' don't sound like Baph-"

Sneasler grabbed him from above, putting a claw around his mouth, and swiftly slew him with an injection of painless poison. Adaman swiftly caught the body, and Rei donned the man's worm-eaten rags and assorted articles of raiment, the clothes almost comically large for the small boy.

The two went through the rest of the house, looking for any rations that they might find. Rei found a weedwood bow and a half-empty quiver of arrows, but Adaman could only find some pitchers of brackish water. "No food or good drink!" he said, slamming his gloved fist on the wall. "What do these men live by?! Or do they simply feed on foul air and wickedness?!"

After the search had reached its end, having borne little fruit, the two tried to wake up the others. Akari and Lian were stirring, but the other three were still under the influence of the spores. Outside, the revelry was beginning to reach a fever pitch.

Likely before they start offering people to that thing, Rei thought. Perhaps we can drag them out? But justice demands that we free the other captives. Curse the Enamours Cult! A thousand prayers of aid to Arceus!

Soon, Akari and Lian woke. Once Rei and Adaman showed their faces and explained the plan to escape, they began to try to wake up Iscan, while Adaman carried Laventon and Rei, and Lian would carry Cyllene.

Iscan awoke with a start when Akari dumped a bucket of foul water on his face. He attempted to attack Adaman in his cultist guise, and had to be restrained by Sneasler before anything could be explained to him. Thankfully, the noise of the chanting and shrieking outside, combined with the eerie, shrill whining of flutes and cacophonous banging of tom-toms covered any noise of the doings of the group.

Under the cover of the darkened night and shadowy gloom, the Golden Company made their desperate escape. It was as simple as creeping out a moldering back door, and going around the village through the half-swamp till they reached the northern border of the hovel.

After slaying a guard behind a squat tent full of perfumed incense, Iscan also donned a disguise. "We must free the others, if possible," the Alolan warrior said. "However, we may need to abandon them to death if we are to complete the task that we set out to do. They may rest outside the Salvation of Arceus. Let us pray for their souls when we have left this debatable and desert land."

While the group was debating about plans and counter-plans, hiding furtively in the shaodws, Rei noticed a peculiar change in the ceremony. The flames surrounding the carven pole had now reached upward in a nebulous motion so that they covered the statue of the demon that rested atop it. With a sizzling crackle and a burst of scattered sparks, the statue began to move.

Upon seeing the action, the entire assembly fell on their knees, chanting and yowling strange praises in rough and unlovely languages. The flames descended, and ReI could see that the being atop the pole was very much alive.

"Adore me! Fear me! Love me!" the creature said in debased, resonant tones. "I am Lord and Lady Enamorus, who gives you food, drink, and pleasure! I was among the first to rise from the Primordial Order of the Mbelekoro's Creation, and I never shall descend into it again! May the Darkness strange the Light!"

The Cultists raved. Enamorus looked about, and for a horrible second, looked into the area where Rei and his friends were cowering. It sniffed a sulfurous breath, and leered at the incense tent.

"Come out...I feel your presence! Are you a company of great warriors? Do you have mastery over these lands? Or are you a band of cowards, fatherless, thankless, and ungrateful? Enter my sight!"

The Golden Company did not emerge.

"A deal is to be made! If you come out, you may choose who is to be sacrificed first. If you do not...I shall! The old grey Calathrim man! Bring him here!"

The madmen grabbed a struggling, bound elder who doubtless had been taken from some nearby village. No one in the company could tolerate this any longer. Adaman brandished the Mormakil, while Iscan readied his dark spear. Akari had an arrow notched and drawn at the war-chief, and Lian gripped a rusted spade tightly. Sneasler and Typhlosion stood before the group, while Rei clutched his dagger, recovered from a barrel.

Enamorus roared, and every single cultist drew a weapon, a variety of instruments, sharp and blunt, long and short, all wicked. Dozens of broken and scarred Pokémon also trained their hostilities on the small band of warriors, and they laughed an unearthly sound that occurs when a beast full of self-loathing and torment experiences a meager bit of black humor.

There was no way that this battle could be won. They could not flee, the madmen certainly knew every dell and fen about, and had discovered the hiding places and would search them, bringing the Golden Company to a terrible end. They could not fight and previal by strength of arms. They certainly would take many madmen to Sheol, but Death in whatever form it take would not accomplish their task.

Arceus... Rei prayed. This is the last moment! Your servants require aid!

Nothing that could be described as divine occurred. Enamorus was not smitten to ashes by a holy flame from the Heaven. The cultists were not struck blind. The enemy Pokémon did not faint. All hope was lost.

Enamorus gloated, transforming into a form like a turtle as it gave its weighty boasts. "Ha! What a motley band of roadside scavengers, caught between the anvil and the hammer-stroke! You shall be a feast for my chattels...and my Lord the Bright Evening Star will be most pleased to hear of your death, He who mas his domain in the north now learns of all the doings of Hisui..."

Then...

A light like a thousand suns, cascading into every burrow, crevasse, and lone mote of darkness came out of the south, forcing everyone to shield their eyes against its unrelenting ferocity and purity. It dimmed, but three shapes like four-legged animals...no, they could not be called animals, for that would be far too insulting. There were of Pokemon nature and shape, but had not been born Pokemon. Rather, they were Elohim, the Children of the Most High.

The three glorious beings landed in a maelstrom of wind, knocking back any madmen who ran at them in a fit of delusional pique. One was dun and large, built like a battering ram, its body somewhat resembling the storied webs of an ore-filled cavern. The second was like a graceful deer, green and earthy, like a dweller of a far grasslands. Verdant was her raiment, but she held a secret fire within.

But the one who stood in the center of both creatures was the most noble and wonderful being that Rei had ever seen. It took the shape of a great stag with magnificent, azure hide, and a proud white cravat of noble fur complimented its majestic hooves and fair horns. It shone forth with an iron will, one that could not be broken even in this desolate land of the Power of the Enemy.

Enamorus recognize the beings in a moment, to hatred and fear. "No! He cannot have sent you!"

"You are wise in many things, Ba-al Enamorus," the giant one said, speaking into the minds of all who were present. "But are like a beast in judging what the Original One may or might do, for it is not your lot to know such things in your sundered state. We, the Swords of Justice, have come with a righteous spirit..."

"To contest with you," the lithe, green one continued. "And to aid those who the Original One had ordained to be protected against foes beyond their strength in this darkest time where all other lights fail..."

"And to seal you, and throw you into the Abyss, as is your just sentence!" the noble one finished, righteous anger as an open flame within its eyes. "Mbelekoro-spawn! Long have we fought you, and beings of your ilk. May the Original One rebuke you!"

Cobalion, Terrakion, and Virizion charged.

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Authors note-yeah, I went full Lovecraft in this one.