"You mean, the Hell's Gate?" Falco probed.
The weight those two words had, was overwhelming. I recognized that term but I didn't know what it was. It was stuck in the back of my mind like a distant memory. Or a recent memory, only erased.
As I sat down, too feeble to stay standing, my bag and cloak rustled against the young grass. I absent-mindedly opened the flap to check my belongings. Falco sat with me now, waiting for my response. I laid out the black notebook, pen, Snake's stun gun, the four ink balls I gathered from the phantoms, and the now missing chain watch.
"Roy told me," I began, my voice washed-out even in the soft breeze, "To get rid of my clock. In order for me to live. I was reluctant to throw it away at first, since it was a gift and it was nice to tell time, but I did."
"I saw you throw it away." Falco nodded.
"But why was that significant?"
Falco looked down, not in dismay but of confusion, I thought. Minutes went by in silence, and unease was building up in the bottom of my stomach. Many ideas crossed my mind.
However, somehow, I knew the right thing to say. "I'm not the same Pit as I was before."
A newfound worry spread over Falco's face. "You're not the same…" He muttered.
"Yes. I may have had adventures with you. But I can't remember any of it. When I woke up, I was in the cave and I forgot my name and why I was here. Memories of my past life is a bit blurry too but, I do remember that we all used to live together."
"But," Falco muttered, "You are Pit, right?"
"…Yes."
"You're not, you—you're just, Pit?"
Before I could think of what Falco was trying to say, my black notebook flapped open from the breeze. The pages turned in meticulous order and landed perfectly on the second to last page: the roster of names that I was going to use as an attendance sheet of the friends I met so far. There was another name under Pichu scrawled in pen that I didn't notice before.
A shadow cast above my head. I dove into Falco as we both rolled to the right. Pieces of dirt flew in the air as the two javelins lodged into the ground with tremendous impact, several times the weight of the actual objects. I turned back, both of us breathing heavy, noticing that one anchored the notebook and another into where I was sitting just a second before.
Blood dripped from my forehead, following the trail of my nose. The two objects were my swords separated from the holy bow. I shuddered to think what could have happened if the swords lodged into my skull instead of the ground.
In the distance, I saw the wielder.
The sweet sunlight seemed to die down by a fraction as if clouds shrouded it. The dark figure swayed as he slowly made his way toward us. I had trouble identifying his silhouette but I could see its glowering red eyes from miles away. The last of the five black monsters, or so I hoped it was.
Falco behind me was strangely quiet, so I placed a hand on his arm for security. The touch was frigid and stiff, and I only had time to look back to see he was frozen in time somehow, before I was thrown away by an unseen force. I met the ground hard, skidding across the grass and dirt. I managed to roll on my back and sit up, only to have an assertive foot anchor me to the ground again.
For a slender frame, the phantom's weight on my chest made creaking sounds in my bones, threatening to snap. My vision danced, making the phantom appear doused in ink, then flushed by the sun, almost like he was shrouded in light.
"Mewtwo." I squeaked.
I gripped the leg that pinned me down. The phantom leered and flicked a hand. Another invisible force slapped my hand away. I felt like an ant being stomped on.
"Time stops." Voices rang in my head.
"What,"
"You can't escape." The phantom smiled.
His many voices were nothing like Mewtwo's. There was a mix of male and female, young and old. It reminded me of The Mother, but that only had a collection of male voices.
The weight of the foot on my chest lightened. The phantom leaned down, gripping my toga where he stepped on. Immediately, the despair ink exploded from his hands and smothered my torso as if he turned over a bucket of water on me. I thrashed, choking on the stinging liquid, shoving the phantom away, but the spread was unstoppable.
"Mewtwo!" I screamed, hoping that calling his name would snap him out for a bit, but the phantom now only stepped back and smiled, admiring his work. The ink splashed and I felt it drain down my stomach.
The scene distorted. I only noticed that from the stinging, stabbing pain that changed, and was now a burning sensation that cooked me alive. I couldn't tell if it was more, but it certainly wasn't any less excruciating. I took a breath in attempt to alleviate any pain, and saw the strand of chains dangling above my head to finally notice I was never under the sunlight at all.
I was in a dark room, some source of light piercing through a small window in the corner. When I rolled onto my knees, chains rattled underneath me. I glowed against the dark walls and I saw that now; it wasn't ink that painted my body, but light.
I looked up again. Mewtwo glowed a sickly white light against the black walls like me, smiling down on me with the same set of red eyes. A white phantom.
That sudden realization took out all of the willpower I had left in me. And I remembered, why, I passed through the Heaven's Door. Why I forgot my name, and why we were trapped in this endless purgatory. But words couldn't form in my head. Images flashed before my eyes and they were too quick to stop and comprehend what they were.
"Time stops. You can't escape." Mewtwo's phantom repeated.
"Stop," I muttered. I would have backlashed him more if I weren't slow-cooked on a skillet. The burn from the light started to fade away, the pain instead of hurting me, taking away whatever energy I had left. I crumpled to the ground.
The chains quivering on the ground welcomed me. A few thin strands started to wrap around my extremities, slowly wrapping around my neck and torso. I recollected images from Polis 1: when I met The Mother in this room and when I became a phantom, my vision going dark from the despair ink spreading over me, cutting and wringing my friends with these chains, and I couldn't do anything to stop it.
"Time stops. You can't escape." The phantom recited again.
Someone gently placed a warm hand on my back.
"I was made to have a wider vocabulary than two sentences." A voice I recognized replied.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the person that supported me up again. He was a soft white figure, not a mawkish off-white like the phantom. He placed an arm around my shoulders, and before I could blink, we were in a different place again.
At first, I noted the dusty, sour smell that filled my nose. There was a lamp placed next to me, small flames flickering against the murky glass. I didn't have to look around for the phantom for its presence. The feeling of unease and dread was gone.
"Awake?" A gentle voice whispered into my head.
I looked above me, and there was the person that led us here. His voice was calm but his demeanor spoke otherwise; he was in a low stance as if he was ready to run or fight depending on what I would do.
"Mewtwo?" I croaked. "How did you…?"
My raspy voice made him drop his shoulders. He hopped down from the pillar formation with grace that made him seem like he weighed a feather. Mewtwo knelt to me and placed a hand on my head.
"I was worried the light still affected you." He explained briefly. He then went about placing my arms and legs in a certain position and relocated the hand on my head to my face.
"Excuf-feh?" I muffled through his hand. That tickled Mewtwo and he chuckled, but still went on with whatever procedure he was going to perform on me. He sounded like he was reciting from a book.
"Breathe slowly. Try not to tense. Loosen every muscle."
"Are we doing yoga or—" I was cut off from a sudden overturning sensation that I tried to stop because it felt like I was vomiting, but Mewtwo grabbed my hands.
Light, and ink, burst from every pore on my body. But focused on Mewtwo's hand, which was pulling the substances away. My feet and hands were the first to go slack, but my chest to my head still hurt like a throbbing migraine. I gagged, tightening my knees to my chest, but at last, Mewtwo finally removed whatever was inside me into a tight ball. Then, it disappeared as it dissolved into the rocky floor like water.
As I wheezed and stared at the floor my ink ball (light ball?) disappeared into, Mewtwo sat across from me, in a tired but relieved manner.
"I am glad you are okay." He smiled, which was delightful since Mewtwo usually has a scowl or a generally emotionless expression, but I just couldn't bring myself into smiling back at him.
Many questions went through my head and I had a hard time choosing which to ask first. I looked around us. The dusty and sour smell was still there. We were in a crevice of the cave; surrounding us were yellow walls like egg yolk and a dash of mayonnaise. The pillar Mewtwo was on loomed over us proudly.
"Limestone." I muttered.
Mewtwo blinked and looked back at the cave formation as if he was noticing it for the first time. He nodded, and that's all he did.
I've never been in a limestone cave. However there was that déjà vu that kept me staring at the looming tower. I felt like I've been in one recently, but the formations I've been through have been black rock, coal, or a jade color with lots of green water; and with that realization, so what?
Then I saw my belongings placed next to the lamp, folded and on a neat pile. I picked up the black notebook and placed my hand over the gaping hole it now has from Mewtwo's phantom severing the pages. I tried to bend the paper back from the damage done but a lot of the pieces have gone missing. Large black burns now concealed the writing I collected previously also.
"That was smart." Mewtwo remarked.
"What was?"
"Having a roster when you crossed over." He answered.
I winced, touching my holy bow. That act made Mewtwo tense, as if he felt like I was going to attack him. I had no intentions to but my fingers curled around the hilt and glued together. Gripping it worsened my nervousness and I knew I had to let go, but I had to hold on to it. A beat of silence went past us.
What do you mean by 'cross over'? I asked mentally.
Mewtwo slowly inched away from me as he picked a stone from the ground. Once he saw I wasn't going to move, his stare dropped to his hands, and pushed the sharp end of the rock into the tip of his finger. He rubbed the drop of blood into his palm. Mewtwo seemed relieved by the sight as he raised that finger to me.
"See, no light inside of me. I am not one of them."
No light; that still was confusing but Mewtwo is relieved for a reason and wanted to share this with me. "You're not a phantom, I'm guessing?"
"Yes. So, …please let go of your weapon."
We had some knowledge in common; things were starting to make sense. My grip around the holy bow unstiffened as I placed it away from me, to calm my friend and I. We sat in silence for another minute before I could say my apologies for scaring him. I didn't want to believe I was having trust issues with my friends.
"So, do you know my name?" I asked. A weird icebreaker, I know.
"You forgot your name?" Mewtwo's tone was light yet had a hidden weight.
"I did, and a lot of other things too. I thought that was significant… but it's just, Pit."
"Your name is significant, as is your other memories." Mewtwo said reassuringly, as if he was trying to cheer me up. "Perhaps forgetting your name and memories was the same package. They were of the same importance of what you needed to remember."
Forgetting. Remembering. Words popped in my head again. I remembered my name, and I remembered I had a friend named Mewtwo. I remembered I needed to eat and drink to survive.
"The process of remembering is what's important." I muttered.
"And the reason why you forgot those things is important also, I presume."
"Right." I said, as my stomach growled. Mewtwo smiled.
"We will talk more later."
I packed my things and wrapped my blue cloak around me. Mewtwo lead the way through a small tunnel with the lamp in hand. I stared at his swaying tail as it moved left and right, but in small recesses to not hit the wall. I was fascinated by it but I guess I did the same thing with my wings.
The tunnel opened to a wide space with stacked pillars surrounding a round ballroom. Cold humid air and the grand, yellow-white formations made me shiver. A pile of crates was shoved to the side, one opened and peeking some fresh unopened cans.
Mewtwo quickly scanned the area and gestured me to follow with a finger to his lips. I didn't know why we needed to keep quiet but I agreed. Mewtwo grabbed can after can and stuffed them into my bag with quick execution and minimal noise. After my poor bag was stuffed to the top, Mewtwo gently pushed me up back to the tunnel where we came from.
I looked back briefly and the ballroom was as quiet as night, but Mewtwo still urged me back up the trail.
As we ate from the cans of cold tomato soup, I said, "So I have a lot of questions."
"I am sure you do." Mewtwo replied.
"Um, okay, why did we need to sneak around back there?"
Mewtwo watched me carefully. I had a feeling that I used to know why we needed to sneak around and it was so fundamental that asking this question was some kind of a joke.
"You said you had pieces of your memory missing since you have awoken here. So, am I to assume that you might not remember what we have been through?"
"Close to nothing." I admitted.
"But, you do remember what the other side was like?"
Pieces were starting to come together: the other side, and the Mirror, that I supposedly crossed. It didn't feel like a door or a gate, it really felt like passing through another plane of existence. "Yeah, until I crossed the Mirror and I came here."
"I see. Do you have any writing apparatuses?"
I handed Mewtwo my pen and notebook nervously. He flipped through the severed pages to a clean sheet and started scribbling intensely. I situated the lamp and myself next to him to read the words as they were written out. He wrote in surprisingly legible writing with his three digits:
"Do not read this out loud. Words are powerful. We are constantly watched and managed based on certain words that we say, but they are blinded by written language, which is probably why you unconsciously picked up notes along the way.
"There is a group called "The Martyrs", we call them the cult. They are lead by a human male called "Father Sutherland". In his absence, which is common, his family leads the group. They seek immortality and truth, and they are very dangerous."
Mewtwo stopped writing to see my response, which was a jarring shock to my system. He passed me the notebook and pen for me to write back and it took all of my willpower not to just blurt questions out. After scrawling and struggling through the first few lines, I wrote my reply:
"Who are 'they'? And I've met a doctor named Sutherland and a girl named Priscilla that was abandoned from her family because of the cult."
As Mewtwo read my response and starting writing again, he was devoid of any emotion as if he anticipated my story. He wrote out:
"They are the beings that put us here, the two deities that watch over this realm. And if your experience is connected with the cult, it sounds as if Father Sutherland is the son of your doctor and the father of Priscilla."
My heart pounded against my rib cage. Everything was making sense, yet it didn't make sense, as usual. Priscilla's father is also the son of Dr. Sutherland from Polis 1? Possibly? It was like having puzzle pieces thrown at me endlessly and none are making the big picture. I wrote my response:
"What do you call the deities?"
Mewtwo was particularly careful writing his response:
"You used to call them Omniscience and Ignorance."
Then, before he handed the notebook back to me, he crossed out the two words until it was completely illegible. I saw the fear in his eyes warning me to be careful with my writing as well. I wrote it, showed it to him, and when he nodded, scribbled out my writing as well.
"I think one of them is called The Mother. It's a being surrounded in chains and wire. Also I think he possesses this dark power I call 'ink'. It turns our friends and me into evil entities, phantoms."
I showed the four ink balls to Mewtwo, and then continued writing below the scribbles:
"This is the ink I collected from the phantoms. My friends and I fought hard against them. And now, since I guess they're purified or something, when the previous owners touch these, they can have a phantom-like appearance and use their power."
I scribbled out my last note, only to find Mewtwo fixated at the four ink balls. He started to talk again so I guessed our note-swap session was over.
"Fascinating… a physical sample…"
"So... not to change the subject but, what's off-limits to say out loud?" I asked, patting our notes. Mewtwo snapped his attention away from the ink balls and pointed to two phrases during our conversation: "deities" and "The Martyrs".
"From our experience so far, any verbal mention of them results in bad outcomes. …It has taken us so long before we figured that out. And it is too late."
I stiffened. "What do you mean by that?"
"After you took some number of us to cross over to the other side, I became captured by the cult and possessed by the light, somehow. I do not remember exact details but when I regained consciousness, my phantom was able to escape from my body and the rest of us…"
"The rest of us, what? What happened?"
Mewtwo looked down. "The rest of us are phantoms. Possessed by light."
"Light, like, white phantoms?" My mouth quivered.
As Mewtwo placed his hand on my shoulder, striking, scalding light rained down on us like fire. Everything was white. A familiar frying on my eyelids weighed me down, making me scrape my forehead into the rocky ground. After wrapping my cloak around my face to shield my eyes, I cried out for Mewtwo.
My voiced was erased from this massive humming that pressed in my eardrums, that I've only noticed after I wrapped my cloak around me. It was electric, but probably not from a machine.
A hand touched mine. But before I could grip it, a powerful force wrenched it away from me. I knew it was a bad idea but I took a peek from my cloak shield. I cursed at the blinding light stabbing into my irises but I got a glimpse of Mewtwo flickering in existence until he dissolved into the white brilliance.
I thought he was gone so I screamed his name in grief, but then I noticed he was shouting back at me.
"You were chosen because you noticed first!" Mewtwo grabbed my arms. Some unknown force kept pulling him away from me. During all that struggling, he managed to place the ink balls in my hands. I gripped them tight.
"You came back from the Hell's Gate. You know more than any of us on how to escape. You will save us."
At some point, I must've been knocked out. Mewtwo's grip on my arms evaporated off like hot steam. What was weird was that when I woke up again, I was sitting up against the limestone wall, my cloak on my lap for warmth, the fire lamp flickering next to me. My belongings were in a neat pile also.
I was frozen in fear. It felt like I was placed in this situation deliberately. A warm liquid dripped from my forehead. I dabbed at it and winced. There was a series of scratches and a long scratch just above it. The small scratches were new, and the longer scratch had a scab following down my forehead.
Mewtwo's phantom just made this longer scratch; when he used my swords and I dodged them. It couldn't have been any more than two hours ago. And this position, I woke up like this from Mewtwo's aid and there was absolutely no way I would just unconsciously sit down and make myself comfortable after that painful whiteout, or whatever event we experienced.
Also, I'm hungry again. I just ate the cold tomato soup from the can. Now, I know I eat quite a lot to account for my energy used when I fly, but I was so famished it felt like I spent a couple days without eating.
Mewtwo's words reverberated in my head as if he just screamed at me.
He was here. I could still feel his hands grip mine when he gave the ink balls back. I couldn't have dreamed that. I'm in a completely different place than where I was when I fell asleep yesterday, in that comfortable bed at the factory.
"I was in a place called the Hell's Gate," I whispered to myself, "I'm now in a different place. The Heaven's Door."
The blood from my forehead dripped down my cheek, making me shudder from the tangible sensation. In some part of my mind, I've always wanted this to be one long, confusing, painful, hellish dream.
Author's Note: I thought of updating two chapters at once, but the next chapter has really important points so I'll hold it off for now. Now watch me not update until next year... Just kidding, probably next month. As always, if there's anything confusing or needs clarification, let me know!