Whip hid.
It wasn't very brave, and it wasn't very heroic, but he was finding that it was a lot harder to be brave and heroic when there was no one there to be brave and heroic for. He didn't have a plan. He didn't know what to do. That had always been Pretzel and Amy's part of things. But Amy wasn't here, and Pretzel—
Don't think about Pretzel. What would Amy do? First, she'd take stock of the situation. Whip could do that. Cautiously, he peered out of his hiding place. He was in a small house on the inland edge of town, far away from the monster. It wasn't rampaging and destroying things like Hurricane had; instead, it stayed stationed near the ocean while its tendrils of darkness quested through the streets. Was it searching for him, or for the people hiding in the buildings? Would it make them all sad and droopy, like Twist had in Adabat?
Whatever it was doing, right now it didn't seem to know where Whip was. This could be his chance to escape… except the monster had situated itself right on top of the Gaia temple. Whip could try flying to Empire City, he supposed, but he got the feeling it was a long, long way away. Too far for him to fly on his own; he'd probably get lost without a map. Could he find one somewhere?
Whip squinted out over the white buildings, trying to guess where a map would be kept. What had Pretzel called this place? Apotos? It seemed… familiar…
The town was bright, wonderfully bright! So many brilliant minds, eager to let him in to play. And why wouldn't they? He'd help them, and they'd help him, and together they'd burn away all the ugly dark bits and make everything clean and white and perfect. But first, he needed to take care of something—two somethings. The rotten man was clever, but Light Gaia had a plan to deal with him. Soon he would show him the foolishness of trying to control Light itself. The key was the conduit. The lovely, lovely conduit, the one who'd woken Light Gaia in the first place, a mind that was bright and burning and good. The perfect friend… except for the fact that, true to his nature, the conduit was just as easily used by other powers. Powers like the Other One. Light Gaia HATED the Other One. It was a virus, an infection, a stain, spreading its nasty darkness everywhere it touched, even on his new friend. This could not stand.
Fortunately, his new friend had lots of other friends, and lots of those friends were Light Gaia's friends, too! Like this one, the clever little fox. Perhaps too clever; he kept scribbling notes everytime Light Gaia left him alone, and Light Gaia had to clean up the mess each time. It was ridiculous; Light Gaia hadn't hurt anyone, and the fox made brainwashing sound like a bad thing. Washing made things clean! Washing was good! Light Gaia made the fox erase the latest note and ushered him outside, painting a bright smile on his face. He knew just where the conduit was, wandering around the town, lost and confused. Light Gaia's mood soured at that. His new friend wouldn't be confused and upset if the Other One had just KEPT ITS DIRTY TENDRILS OFF HIM!
But it was fine. Because Light Gaia was going to save him. He had a perfect plan, too, one he'd gotten right from the fox's clever little mind. He'd give the conduit a map. The fox had already used his strange glass box to figure out where Light Gaia was, and with his help, Light Gaia would bring his new friend to meet him in person. Then Light Gaia would be freed from the rotten man, and his new friend would really get to know him! Yes, it was a perfect plan.
Except for one thing. The Other One interfered.
Somehow, even when it really should have known to STAY OUT OF HIS WAY, the Other One still managed to be the worst. The mere sight of it was enough to make Light Gaia's RAGE explode, cracking his vision like the glass box's screen and flooding it with red. Teeth and claws flashed. When the rage cleared, the conduit and the Other One had escaped, frightened off by the fox's sudden aggression.
Ugh. Well, fine. Light Gaia would just have to find another way. He bared the fox's teeth in a snarl. The Other One could run and hide all it wanted. The world was his now, and soon… soon it would be perfect.
Whip burst from the memory, gasping. His heart beat a wild rhythm in his chest and his wings fluttered anxiously, but there was nothing to run from. No monster except—him. Light Gaia.
Whip shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. The memory replayed in his mind, over and over. Tails, controlled by Light Gaia—by Whip—, viciously attacking Pretzel and Sonic. No wonder Sonic had always seemed so uncomfortable around Whip. And Pretzel… He remembered Pretzel flinching away from his touch. Was that the truth? Had… had Pretzel always been afraid of him? Had she hated him?
Had they ever been siblings at all?
"It doesn't matter," Whip told himself. It was nice to hear a voice out loud, even if it was just his own. "Pretzel's a liar. It doesn't matter what she thought about me. I don't care."
He'd never been good at lying.
Restlessly, Whip tugged on his head tuft—and stopped. His hand brushed something that wasn't fur. He pulled the flower free and blinked at it. Blue like the sky, its petals unburned, if a little rumpled from all the flying around. Pretzel had given him this flower back in Chun-Nan, when he'd been scared he was becoming like the Light Gaia fragments.
You're no more monster than me, remember?
Whip clutched the flower close and peered up at the great dark monster still crouched over the Gaia temple, surrounded by a writhing mass of dark shadows. Somewhere in there was Pretzel. Dark Gaia. The one who'd lied to him and tricked him and done all sorts of terrible things. The one who'd tried to plunge the world into darkness. A monster.
A monster, who'd yelled at children's shows on the TV with him. A monster, who'd played with him when he was bored. A monster, who'd followed him into the dust storm, who'd fought by his side against creatures he knew terrified her, who'd leapt into the darkness to save a child, who'd stood between him and Twist, who'd reached out to him even after he burned her.
A monster who'd comforted him with a flower.
Whip tucked the flower carefully back into his fur. Maybe Pretzel was a monster, some horrible, wicked villain like in all the shows. Maybe he was, too. But he couldn't leave it like this. He couldn't just give up, turn tail, and run. That wasn't what Amy would do, or Sonic, or Big, or Knuckles, or even Pretzel herself, though she'd act like she would. Pretzel, Amy, Sonic… they all must have known the truth. Yet they'd never given up on him, even after all he'd done to hurt them. There must have been a reason they gave both him and Pretzel a second chance. The least Whip could do was try. He couldn't leave until he'd spoken to Pretzel one last time.
Even if it meant he had to fly towards the giant scary monster of darkness.
"I'm brave," Whip told himself. "I'm super brave." Taking one last deep breath to steel himself, he launched into the air.
The monster turned, reptilian green eyes widening at Whip's rapid approach. Then it sneered, baring its fangs in what seemed to be amusement. Whip willed himself not to flinch.
"Pretzel! Pretzel, are you in there?"
There is no "Pretzel", you idiot, the monster hissed in his mind. It sounded like Twist. Whip ignored it.
"Pretzel! Pretzel, please! I want to talk to you!"
The monster swiped at him, and Whip darted back with a squeak. But he didn't retreat; he kept flying around it, shouting for Pretzel.
You are obnoxious. The monster swatted at him again, and he dodged, again, but the move was a feint, and one of the monster's other arms grabbed him out of the sky.
Whip cried out as he was slammed into the pavement. The monster didn't let him go; it kept pushing, the cement cracking under its strength. Its scales felt like ice to the touch, and the chill spread over his body, so cold it almost burned. Whip wondered if this was how Pretzel had felt when Nova had her pinned.
"Pretzel!" he cried weakly as the darkness continued to try and drown him. "Pretzel, where are you?"
The monster leaned down so its unnaturally wide fanged mouth was close to Whip's head. There was no heat from its breath, just biting cold. Sayonara, idiot.
The icy claws stabbed down into him, and the blackness finally won out.
Whip woke to darkness, which was honestly just unfair. Darkness, darkness, everything darkness. He shook his head, trying to clear his swimming vision. Gradually his eyes adjusted, though that didn't mean much with how dim and hazy everything was. He could barely see a few feet in front of him. The only light came from a couple of violet crystals and his own softly glowing body. Shadows swirled around him, so thick they looked solid. When he touched them, they swirled away like smoke, repelled by his hand. He couldn't see the ground, but it felt like rock. Wet, slimy rock. Gross. His footsteps made no sound. Nothing did. Everything was so quiet.
"Pretzel?" Whip called hopefully. "Pretzel, are you here?"
No response, not even an echo. The odd fog seemed to swallow his words.
"Pretzel!" Whip shouted, wading forward. "Pretzel, I'm here!"
Still no answer. He huffed in frustration. Even if she was here, he'd never spot her in this darkness. If only there was a way he could make more light… Wait! He remembered what he'd done against Nova. It had been like he'd taken some of the bright, warm energy he'd received from Dust Devil and Sunshine and pulled it out of himself. He closed his eyes, concentrating on that inner light and willing it into his cupped hands. He imagined blowing on it gently, stoking it like a flame. And wonderfully, it worked. A glowing sphere of white light appeared in his hands. The shadowy fog retreated in a wide circle around him, revealing the slimy, mossy rock floor, pocked with tiny pools of water like tide pools on a beach. Now he could see he was in some sort of underground cavern; wide and tall, but not as infinite as it had seemed in the dark.
And—there! Not far from him, huddled away from the crystals, was Pretzel.
"Pretzel!" Whip called excitedly, running towards her. "Pretzel, I'm here to rescue you!"
Pretzel whirled around, meeting his eyes. Whip smiled.
And Pretzel turned and ran.
Whip's ears flattened. "Pretzel! Wait!"
He ran after her, but something solid and scaly slammed into him, knocking him back. He grunted, sitting up, and blinked in astonishment as the monster from Empire City—Hurricane, Pretzel had named it—loomed over him. He tried to peer around it to see where Pretzel had gone, but it growled, a rumbling that seemed to make the very world shake. The crystals trembled with the vibrations. Hurricane snapped its jaws at Whip, and he scrambled back, squeaking in fear.
The monster lunged at him again, and Whip spun around and wriggled into a narrow cleft in the rock. Hurricane roared in frustration, scraping its claws against the stone. The combined noise was agonizing. Whip clamped his hands over his ears and huddled further into the stone, whimpering. He had to get past Hurricane if he wanted to find Pretzel, but even Amy, Pretzel, and Whip combined hadn't been able to make a scratch on this creature. How was he supposed to beat it on his own?
Hurricane leaned forward, turning its head so its reptilian eye could better peer into the crack. It tried once more to reach in after him, then pulled back with a huff. Whip blinked, lowering his hands. That sound… it kinda sounded like the one Pretzel made when she was frustrated or annoyed with him. And now it was scraping its claws against the ground, like Pretzel did when she was upset. What was Hurricane upset about? Pretzel had said it was like an animal, so what made animals upset? Being hurt? Being hungry?
Whip shifted in his hiding spot, his head brushing the stone. The flower came loose from his fur, and he hastily reached to catch it before it fell to the ground. He smiled at the soft blue petals. Blue like the sky. Blue like the sea. Pretzel liked the sea, didn't she? The sea was Dark Gaia's, he knew instinctively. She protected it, like he protected the sky. Together, they protected the whole world. And since Hurricane was a part of Dark Gaia…
"Hurricane!" Whip called, standing up. He wriggled his way out of the crack. Hurricane stared at him, apparently too confused to attack. "I understand! I don't want the world to hurt, either!" He held the flower up like a white flag. Except, well, blue.
Slowly Hurricane leaned down, sniffing at the flower. It touched its nose delicately to the petals. Than it cocked its head, peering at Whip. Whip held its gaze, willing it to understand.
Hurricane hummed and pulled back. It moved out of the way and swept its tail, indicating an opening in the cave that seemed to lead into another cavern. Whip blinked, then beamed.
"Thank you!" he called up to Hurricane, tucking the flower back into his fur and running down the tunnel. Hurricane rumbled after him, sounding fondly amused.
Whip slowed as he entered the tunnel, shuddering at a blast of cold. Ice frosted the stone. He suddenly missed the slimy moss and puddles of the previous cavern. Still, he forged on, feet slipping on the ice until he stepped out of the tunnel and into another cave. It was smaller than the previous one, with a much lower ceiling, and all of it was encrusted with ice. Frozen stalagmites created a twisted maze of shadows, and even with Whip's light, much of the room remained hidden.
Something moved in the darkness.
Whip spun around, wildly flapping his wings to keep his balance on the slippery ice. "Pretzel?" he called hopefully.
He was met with a giggle. So, not Pretzel.
The shadow struck without warning, slamming him to the ice and darting away again before Whip could get to his feet. He groaned, peeling himself off the ice, and squinted into the darkness. He saw something—a glimmer of cool light—before the shadow shot towards him again. Whip squeaked and ducked, but the shadow was far more nimble on the ice than he was, and it spun easily to face him again.
"You're Midnight," Whip blurted out, finally recognizing the creature. This was the fragment they'd played with in Holoska.
Midnight giggled and darted off into the shadows again. Whip crouched in the center of the cavern, futilely trying to watch every side of the cave at once. It turned out to be doubly pointless; Midnight dropped from the ceiling, knocking Whip to the ice again, then skipped away giggling while Whip fumbled to get to his feet.
"Stop doing that!" Whip snapped, finally regaining his footing.
He glanced towards the other end of the cavern, where the tunnel continued. That was the way to Pretzel, he was sure. But as long as Midnight kept harassing him, he'd never be able to catch up to her. Midnight had seemed so friendly back in Holoska; why was he trying to stop Whip now?
Midnight ran at him again, and Whip took to the air, hoping to gain the advantage by flight. But Midnight moved with the grace of the ice skaters Amy liked to watch on TV, twirling under Whip before nimbly leaping into the air to bat at Whip's wings. Whip tried to dart away, but instead slammed into the ceiling. He yelped and rubbed his head.
Below him, Midnight giggled again and twirled. Then the little fragment paused, cocking his head. It took Whip a moment to figure out what had caught his interest. With Whip and his glowing ball of light—which seemed to follow him without needing to be held—now on the ceiling and Midnight directly below, Midnight's shadow was cast in stark display on the ice. Midnight lifted his hand wonderingly, trying out different shapes and giggling at the results.
Hesitantly, Whip landed beside the fragment. Midnight spun warily to face him, but he didn't run and hide or try to attack again. Instead he watched Whip. Waiting.
"'You can't have shadow without a light to cast them'," Whip said. "That's what Pretzel said, back in Holoska. And then you asked her something."
What is casting me? Midnight's voice came clear in his head, young and small.
"I think I know the answer. You need two things to cast a shadow. A light—" Whip held up his ball of light. "—and something to block it." He took the flower in his other hand and held it in front of the light. Its shadow was painted clearly on the wall. Midnight cooed appreciatively.
"I'm the light," Whip continued, looking down at the ball of light. "And Pretzel is the one who blocks it." He looked up at Midnight. "We need both of us."
Midnight smiled. He reached out to brush his hand against the flower, then stepped back and, with an exaggerated bow, gestured Whip towards the cavern's exit. Whip smiled back. He started across the ice, then hesitated at the door and turned around.
"Hey, if you want, you could—" he stopped short. Midnight was gone. The cavern was empty.
Whip looked down at the flower in his hands. Where Midnight had touched it, the petals were now streaked with black. Before he might have thought it sad, but now the sky blue seemed all the more brilliant for the deep black beside it. Whip smiled, tucked the flower away, and continued on.
