Thanks for the reviews! It's interesting to hear your thoughts on things. Anyway, this chapter gets rather dark, but it gets better.
In other news, a Grovyle chapter is next. I always like writing from his point of view.
Sol stood in the center of her room, staring at the lush mat on the floor while she flexed her claws in and out. She hated this place. She hated the future. She hated Dusknoir. She hated her visions. She hated herself.
Sol had turned on that innocent
Pokémon, and whatever now happened to the Wormadom was her fault. She had sacrificed him to protect her own interests like a coward, and she hadn't even bothered to learn his name.
And Sol would do it again. She tried to convince herself otherwise, that if she could go back she would do it all differently. But that was a lie. Sol couldn't honestly say that she'd put the well being of a stranger over that of her team.
That knowledge made Sol feel sick. She would have been perfectly happy living out her life without ever having learned that.
Sol wished she could blame Dusknoir for it all, but found that she just couldn't. It was all her fault though, wasn't it? If not for her visions, Dusknoir would never have taken an interest in Team Wanderers. They wouldn't have been taken to the future. Her friends wouldn't be locked up in cells. The Wormadom would still be safe in his home.
Sol's blame stretched back even farther than that. If not for her, Grovyle would have succeeded in his mission. She didn't know what that mission had been, but it certainly wasn't the planet's paralysis. It had to have been something good, something to better the dark future she found herself in.
Sol heard the sound of a key turning in a lock. She turned to glare at the Sableye sent to collect her. She wanted to attack, to take them down and run, but she didn't. All Sol could do was follow as they led her to a large room where Dusknoir stood behind a desk, numerous small objects laid out on its surface.
"Ah, Sol. Please, have a seat," Dusknoir said, indicating a plush chair in front of the desk.
Sol remained standing, glaring at her captor with hate filled eyes.
Dusknoir sighed. If Sol hadn't known better, she would have said that he seemed genuinely saddened by her continued resistance. But he was a deceiver, and everything he did was an act.
"Very well. I trust you have been doing well? You have everything you need?"
"Everything except my freedom, my friends, my happiness, and my own time."
"I had hoped you're bitterness and hostility would lessen with some time, but it seems that it is not the case right now. I do hope you come to realize things could be worse. A lot worse.
'Now, on to business. These are various items collected from across Lord Dialga's domain. I have reason to believe that they are connected to a plot against him. See if any of them gives you a vision."
Sol approached the desk and looked over the various objects. She lightly touched a small mass of crystals black as polished obsidian. Nothing happened. She tapped a twisted, gnarled root, grown into a thick knot of twining tendrils. Nothing happened.
The next item was a hiltless throwing knife. Why would the risk setting a real weapon before her, even one so small? Probably because they knew she wouldn't dare try anything.
Sol traced the edge of the blade with her finger. She wasn't surprised when the dizziness hit. Somehow she knew this unassuming knife would trigger a vision.
A training dummy, really just a ramshackle thing of of wood of an old burlap, stood in front of a rough, cave wall. Other than that, the cave was bare.
A pink, bug like Pokémon entered, and seemed distressed by what she saw. She approached the dummy, studied it for a moment before pulling free a throwing knife lodged in the wooden frame.
"Oh dear, I knew this would happen," the Pokémon sighed.
"What's going on?" Came a second voice, and Sol felt a surge of surprise when she saw Grovyle enter the room. "Where is she?" he demanded.
"I believe she thinks herself capable of finding the Time Gears on her own. She's probably halfway to the Treeshroud by now."
Frustration and irritation made itself known on Grovyle's face. "That arrogant, unthinking human! She's running straight into a trap!"
He squeezed his eyes shut tight as he forced himself to calm down.
"Go back to your home in Dusk Forest. I'm going to Treeshroud on the off chance she isn't dead yet. If I'm lucky, I may even find out more about the Time Gear that's supposed to have been hidden there."
The vision ended and Dusknoir looked at Sol expectantly. The Riolu relayed all that she had seen.
"Foggy Forest..." Dusknoir mused. "Thank you, Sol. You have been most helpful.
Sol just glared at him. She didn't know who that Pokémon was, what human Grovyle was speaking of or why they wanted Time Gears. There were too many questions and not enough answers, and she had no one to ask. She highly doubted Dusknoir would be honest with her.
Sol remained silent as she was led back to her room. Anger boiled inside her, burning hatred for the situation she had been forced into. But what could she do?
...
Sol knew that she was dreaming, which in itself was odd. How often was one aware that they were dreaming and didn't forget about that fact moments after?
Sol found herself on a familiar path surrounded by a dense, grey fog. But the further she walked, the darker and more tumultuous the fog began until she found herself in the middle of a chaotic storm. Winds whipped around the Riolu, the enveloping darkness interspaced with sudden flashes of violent light. The noise level reached an unbearable pitch and Sol broke into a run to escape it all.
But it only got worse. Her surroundings grew darker, the storm more violent, the noise more intense. What was this? What was going on? Sol kept running, stumbling through the fog. Voices, warped and distorted, overlapping and chaotic, some barely more than a whisper and others achingly loud.
"I have no quarrel with you. Out of my way!"
"The look in your eyes... It was the same as a Pokémon dying of thirst would look at a glass of water."
"The ripples
you cause will simply be absorbed into the time line, keeping the future intact and as it should be."
"I believe you two would prove to be invaluable in the future."
"I'm ashamed to share a name with you, never mind a brain and body!"
"What? You say you're a human? You look like a totally normal Riolu to me! Well, maybe except for the eyes…"
It was too loud. Sol pressed her hands against her ears in an effort to block the voices out. It didn't do her any good.
"It's true you don't see many Riolu around these parts…"
"Because the flow of time is getting messed up. It's wreaking havoc, right? Which is why lots of bad Pokémon are appearing."
"It's just a tree, Sol. They're everywhere."
"You have the most unusual eyes."
"It is... unusual for a Pokémon to carry a weapon."
Sol fell to her knees, covering her head with her arms. She couldn't block them out. The voices were too loud, reverberating through her head. Despite the pain they caused, somehow Sol knew that the voices were trying to help, to lead her to a realization that was simply beyond her grasp.
Tears of pain formed in her eyes. Why wouldn't they just stop?
And miraculously, her prayers were answered. Sudden and complete silence descended, thought Sol remained as she was, huddled on the ground with her arms covering her head. While the absence of debilitating noise should have made her grateful, there was something sinister about the silence. It was like the calm before a storm, preluding to something far worse.
"Fool," a voice hissed in Sol's ear. She felt no surprise that it was her own. "Like an ignorant child you flail about, destroying all that I have worked towards and dooming your little friends. Coward. Did you even learn the name of that Wormadom before you screwed him over? He's dead now, just like your team mates. Dusknoir killed them right after you last saw them. He had no further need for them. He knew you would be too afraid and shamed to ask to see them again. All because you were too stupid to remember your past, what you were before."
Sol was shaking. Tears streamed down her face. She couldn't look at the source of the voice, couldn't even bring herself to open her eyes. She just huddled up tighter and waited for it to be over.
But thick, black tendrils wrapped themselves around her limbs. They forced her up, and Sol found herself face to face with a being composed completely of shadows, a wisp of white on its head.
The tendrils coiled tighter, wrapping her in a cocoon of darkness. Sol couldn't breathe. They were too tight. She couldn't breathe...
...
Sol gasped, delicious air filling her lungs. She fought herself free of the nest of blankets and sheets she had piled together in the corner of the room. She had refused to sleep on the bed, for that, to her, would be a sign of defeat, the signal that she had accepted her new role.
Sol had no way of telling how long she had slept. In a place where the run never rose, there was no reference point.
The dream, the nightmare, was quickly fading from Sol's memory. In its place was a strong feeling of fear, making her want to panic and cry. Not fully understanding why, Sol ran to the door and pounded a fist against the dark wood.
A few seconds passed, then a slot on the door was slid across, revealing the jewel like eyes of a Sableye.
"Tell Dusknoir I want to see Eevee and the others."
The slot slid closed. Minutes ticked by while Sol impatiently waited. She knocked on the door again. It was a was a long while before anyone answered.
"I want to see them now," Sol told the Sableye.
"No," it hissed and slammed the slot closed once again.
Sol pounded against the door. She kept at it for several minutes, never stopping nor slowing, before the irritated Sableye opened the slot for the third time.
"Why not?" Sol demanded.
"You are not allowed."
"Then how am I supposed to know they're ok?"
"You are not allowed," it repeated.
Sol felt numb. She didn't protest when the slot was closed. She just stood there, staring at the door and trying to deny the conclusion she had come to.
They were dead. Dusknoir had killed them the moment he no longer needed them. He had believed Sol would be too cowardly to face them again, and he would have been right if not for the dream. Why else would she be denied from seeing them, even for a moment? The whole purpose of holding them prisoner was to use them as hostages. What use were hostages if you refused to prove that they were still alive?
Grief and anger boiled inside her. It was too much for her to handle.
The mirror was the first thing to feel her wrath. Glass shattered, cutting her hand, but she barely noticed. She tore it off the wall and hurled it aside.
She grabbed a pillow and tore it open. The floor was littered with downy feathers. She ripped apart the blankets and sheets, filling the room with tattered strips of red and gold fabric.
She knock over furniture. She up ended the ebony table, knocking items onto the floor. She grabbed onto one of its legs and pulled. With a sharp crack she broke it off, then hurled it at the window.
The wood broke through the shutters, revealing the grey and dreary exterior. Sol ran over to the window and stared down the deep drop off to the twisting valley floor far below. Tears fell from her eyes.
What was Sol supposed to do now?
The Riolu stared down at the river, so far below that it appeared as just a thin ribbon. She could try to jump for it. There was nothing to stop her from escaping, now. Sure, it was unlikely that she'd hit it, and even if she did she wouldn't be able to swim, but Sol would much rather die than serve Dusknoir a second longer.
Or, she could try to climb along the castle's rough exterior and reach the bridge. Her odds of success would be about even with the plan of jumping. In both cases she would probably fall to her death, but at least she wouldn't be able to do any more harm if she was dead. No one else would be hurt by Sol then.
What did she have to live for, anyway? The last surviving member of her team, trapped in a cold and dark future with no way home. This was all her fault anyway, so it would only be right for her to pay the same price as the others. And if she some how succeeded, well, she'd figure something out.
Death or freedom, Sol decided. Either way, she'd no longer be Dusknoir's slave, and anything would be better than that. It's better to live on your feet than die on your knees.
Wait, that wasn't right. It's better to die on your feet than live on your knees. That's how the saying goes. Then why did the words keep switching in Sol's mind?
It's better to live on your feet than die on your knees.
What does that even mean? Sol wondered. It sounds like something Ren would say.
Sol backed away from the window. She could almost imagine the Cubone standing beside her, spouting random nonsense and trying to pass it off as wisdom. Where did he even come up with those things, anyway?
So, what does 'It's better to live on your feet than die on your knees' mean, anyway? Sol mentally asked the conjured version of Ren.
But of course, Ren being Ren, he didn't try to explain himself. He just stared, that trademark look of complete calm on his face.
Damn, even spectral Ren is annoying, Sol thought. She puzzled over the phrase, trying to make sense of it.
If she went through with her suicidal plan, a plan forced upon her by the situation Dusknoir put her in, then wouldn't she be allowing him to dictate her life, even in her act of desperate rebellion?
The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. If death was the only escape she could come up with, then Dusknoir truly did have all the power over her. No, she wouldn't allow that to happen. She would find another way, a different plan with a higher chance of success.
She would live, and she would do it while staying on her feet. That's what Eevee, Jak, and Ren would have wanted.
Sol sat down in the center of the destroyed room, facing the door. Her chance would come and she would escape.
Thanks for the wise advice, spectral Ren.
Accept when you are proven incorrect and never forget that moment, lest you fall into the same trap once again.
Shut up, spectral Ren.
As Sol waited, she realized that this wouldn't be easy. Dusknoir would be watching her carefully, and there was a good chance that she would never succeed. This was a hard path she had chosen, and she was glad that she had chosen it. When had she even taken the easy way out?
Perhaps she wasn't a coward after all. Immature, reckless and sometimes judgmental, but not a coward.
Sol looked down at her hands, covered in blue fur with black pads on her palms and fingers. The hands of a Riolu.
Why had she become a Riolu? Why not a Chimchar, a Skitty or a Pikachu? Was it by chance? Or was it a product of her personality? Sol didn't know enough about a typical Riolu's behavior to say for sure.
It was a long time before Sol heard the sound of a key turning in a lock. The door swung open, revealing the Sableye on the other side.
Sol was being taken out of the castle once again, though she hadn't been told what specifically for. Just that Dusknoir needed to see if certain places would trigger visions. No mention of Sol's destroyed room or request to see her team was made. Sol wasn't about to bring it up, either.
As they walked across the bridge from the castle, Sol wondered if she should try to make her escape on this trip, or wait until a later date when Dusknoir wouldn't be as on guard for that sort of thing. She supposed she would wait and see if an opportunity presented itself, and then decide.