/Read the AO3 version if you can.
The squabbling of Murkrow screams throughout the stone hall, none of it making sense, but a lot of "do it already" and "don't" reach the Typhlosion's ears as he enters into the foyer. There are quills everywhere, Murkrow as well, all of whom are raving mad by the huge fancy doors at the end of the door. A single Murkrow with a flask around their neck tries to keep the masses at bay.
"Nobody's opening the door!" Flaskk shouts at the crowd. "We aren't opening it until she comes out or Honchkrow does! Go back to your posts, please!"
Their voice is lost among a cacophony of squawks. Several voices boom out at once.
"It's been a week!"
"What about our money, what about the bounty?"
"I'm getting sick of waiting! Open up the door already or we'll open it for you!"
The crowd is too busy fighting among themselves to notice the Typhlosion in the back. There is no one working the desk, the only people here are these birds shouting at the top of their lungs. Some of whom are on the floor unconscious. A fight, or several have already broken out in this mailing business and unless someone wrangles these creatures the Krow at the front is next in line to be turned to dust.
"I haven't had a meal in weeks, what am I supposed to do, wait around and starve! Open up her bank already so we can eat!"
"Where's Honch anyway? Why should we have to listen to his little pet?"
"Yeah, why do you get the special treatment!" Another voice exclaims.. "You're not even a Honchkrow!"
Masters shuffles through the masses of Dark Types, shoving the little fellows aside till coming face to face with the flask-wearing fool. The crowd looks about ready to rip them into ribbons when Masters shouts.
"Anyone who shows me inside gets the hat!"
The mention of a hat hushes the crowd. The Murkrow slowly turn to the odd one out, their red eyes widening at the thing in Masters' hand - Honchkrow's hat. And immediately, the one being hounded, goes about opening the fancy wooden doors without question. Guess he is about to be head Honchkrow.
"Yes, sir, yes sir!" The flask-wearing one repeats, wrenching open the door a sliver and slipping inside. "Right this way."
Masters shuffles past the crowd through the door. The Murkrow slams it behind Masters. They take a deep breath, wiping a bucketload of sweat from their hatted brow.
Inside is a fancy office. At the centre are several glass pedestals, and at the back is a desk covered in unsigned papers. He sees a figure lying next to a dead fireplace, The lady identified to by Lucario as Noivern lays sound asleep. Around her lounge are several brown feathers and empty bottles. It looks like she had too much last night.
"The hat." The Murkrow stutters. "Do you have it?"
The Typhlosion brandishes the old thing. Their eyes go wide, and before they can lay a wing on it he swipes it away, keeping it close.
"You'll have it when I figure out what is going on here." Masters says, keeping a vice grip on the feathery crown. "Having this hat makes me your boss, and if you wanna be boss then you'd better give me what I want first."
"Oh, of course!" The Murkrow chirps nervously. "M-My name's Flask! I'm in charge of things when Honch is out…and well, I don't think I've been doing a good job and boss-boss seems…"
Boss-boss is Noivern. Her little fangs peek out through a drunken smile. She lies on her lounge frozen faced, not even breathing it looks like. It was as if she had seen something awesome and was smitten.
He wants to assume, rightfully, this is a particular nightmare-being's doing. Who else would she go for other than the one behind the hunt? Assuming she can undo her sleeping spell at any time, she may have put the boss under till she was done with - well…whatever her goals were. Certainly if a Legendary Pokemon was in town, no matter how stealthy she may have been, surely these Krows would know about the walking nightmare?
Then there are the feathers. The ones by her feet are reddish brown, fading into a sleek black with every step towards the window. Evolution, maybe? Someone's got to have shed something in here. The only one who could know what it was is completely out of commission.
Masters moves towards her, ignoring the busted displays on his way for the Noivern. He places a hand on her fluffy chest.
There's no pulse. There is no colour in her body whatsoever - she is practically monochrome. Their boss is dead, worse yet is the fact she seems…drained.
He has no other answer for it. It is as if Darkrai, or perhaps a mischievous ghost of some kind had drained something from her. Surely the Oracle couldn't have done it, this feels too fresh to be the phantom's doing. For the short time he had known this Darkrai, she would not take a life unless she had. Either disaster or a hit job has taken place here. Masters is left grasping at straws, so too is the Murkrow.
"Is she…" Flaskk shivers.
"She's gone." Masters looks all around the empty office. "Did she have anything important here? Any money, mysterious things a weirdo might want to off her over?"
The Krow motions at the busted pedestals. Under one of them are pieces of damp terracotta, faded like someone has drained the colour from them like the poor Noivern, the podium next to it has its contents stolen altogether. Murkrow points to the empty one..
"She had a piece from Destiny Tower."
Destiny Tower, something that Darkrai has brought up. Master gives the Krow his full attention.
"It was like…an old place that Zekrom messed up, some bright tower which stretched all the way past the skies to where some important folks lived." The Murkrow steals a sip from their flask, calming their nerves. "The stone she had from there would glow in the night. It felt uh - special is the word?"
Holy? Divine? The name Destiny Tower rings up old memories he would rather let be forgotten. If there is something stronger or equal to Dialga out in the world, surely another divine tower exists or existed for them.
He has several questions which no one other than a well-lived shaman could answer. A prayerful man Masters is not, neither is this Murkrow it seems.
"Do you have any information about Destiny Tower?" Masters looks over at Flaskk. "Anything, any references - who might own it? Temporal Tower was owned by Dialga, if the name rings any bells."
Masters once again touches Noivern's corpse. She is ice-cold to the touch. Looking at her colorless body hurts his mind, so he moves to her desk. He digs through her things.
"You really shouldn't be messing with things…" Flaskk frets. "uh…even if you have her hat and all-"
"Honchkrow, Bisharp, Lucario, and her are gone." Masters says to them. "I have the hat. As far as I understand things you have to listen to me because I'm the only one with authority left."
A poor little squawk leaves the flask-wearing Krow. They land on the desk, lying there defeated, their little legs sprawling out.
"What do you mean they're gone?"
Masters doesn't humor them. Instead he digs through her things. As a result he uncovers something indeed strange. Behind her desk among the dozens of cupboards, there is one labelled as junk, and inside it is a glowing golden feather among the rest of the torn-up parchments. He plucks it from the chute. It feels strangely cold in his hand, the glow as bright as a star's.
"Do you know who this belongs to?" Masters says.
"No, no, I don't." The Murkrow sputters. Before Masters can pressure it, they raise a wing. "But I swear by Winter's grace I did see this exact glow peeking out from the desk. I thought it was Ho-oh's at first, but…"
"Ho-oh?"
"Y-Yeah, Ho-oh, a legendary bird that's sorta like Articuno except it's bright and fiery and gold. Its feathers are said to bring people back from the grave. Honckrow knew of a tavern which had one of its feathers, he wanted to get one for his d-"
A way to absolve himself. The words of the phantom slice through the air and cut the Murkrow off immediately. Masters moves towards the door, the squawk of a poor little Murkrow stops him for a split second. His suspicions are correct,
"Hey! You're not going to Calico right?"
"Yes I am, for Ho-oh's plume. I feel stupid for not going there straight away. " Masters glares over his shoulder. "What's the matter?"
"The matter is that we haven't heard from Calico in a day or two, it's like the whole town vanished." Flaskk lands on a nearby coat rack, tugging their crest nervously. "You're gonna give me the hat, right? I let you in here and everything-"
"Not yet." Masters says. "Not until I get the feather and get what I want. Thanks for the warning though. You protect me like you protected Honchkrow, and maybe I'll actually wind up giving it to you. Look into the tower while you're at it.
The Murkrow, with nowhere left to run or fuss, salutes the ghost.
"Aye!" Flaskk says with a chirp. "I'll have everyone dig up things for Destiny Tower, and by time you're back, I swear I'll have everything you need!"
Masters has the hat as a memento, though if wearing it means he has a whole army of Krows to do his bidding he may consider keeping onto this thing for just a minute longer. With a nod Masters opens up the doors, stomping through the crowd on his way downstairs. Flaskk starts barking orders, shouting at them to get in their gear for their newly crowned, ghostly boss.
And the stairs are the half-conscious dragon, her Zoroark, and the lizard - eagerly waiting for his return. The town circle, once full of adventurers, has seemingly died alongside the completion of their journey. The trio waiting for him look his way.
"Anything new?" Louisa is first to ask.
"There might be something happening in Calico Town, you may want to look into it." Masters looks at the dragon-type. "Says there aren't so many messages coming in."
"Who said so?" Halcion grumbles.
"The Krows - everyone working up there, their eyes are everywhere."
Reaching into her cape, the Dragon pulls out her badge. Dexys begins to speak at her badge.
"This is Halcion of Team Vanguard, anyone there?"
The emblem rattles inside her red talons. Everyone waits in chilling silence, watching the thing whir in her claws until…nothing. Not a sound, not a trace for her guild. Halcion tries again.
"This is Halcion of Team Vanguard."
Nothing. Dexys reaches into her Mienshao disguise and draws out her own badge.
"This is Mienshao of Team Vanguard. We need an update on the guild, please respond.."
The silence is terrifying. If the guild or krows are neither responding, then whatever is happening in Calico Town has to have been big enough to silence both the guild and the Krows. The only guess Masters has is it being the work of The Sea; perhaps being disturbed by whatever Darkrai was trying to pull from it.
The two explorers put away their badges, while Louisa takes a look at his own equipment. All he has for a badge is a pierce of parchment sealed in some sort of translucent material. He sighs, looking towards the far and distant north.
"If it's something truly dire, I can see if I can get Articuno on the case."
"You're gonna have Articuno come mess up our town, seriously?" Halcion wheezes. "Don't you think getting her is too much? We have no idea what's going on there, and since when were we on the good side of a goddess?"
"Always have been. You're willing to put aside your qualms for the good of the world, so too am I, and so is she." Louisa says. Standing taller than all of them, he looks the dragon down. "You're not going to cause any fuss with her regarding any unsettled matters your knight may have had, are we?"
Halcion pauses for a good long second.
"No."
"Good." Louisa smiles. "There are plenty, too many to count. You told me you have their hat, do you? Can you get a Murkrow to be my emergency messenger?"
He sure can try. Masters puts on the navy, feathered cap and whistles. A murkrow from above spots him then flutters down, landing the fountain in the plaza. He looks at Masters, waiting.
"Follow this guy. When he tells you to come back here, you do so, and you follow his every word - understand?"
The Krow salutes dramatically, then sits itself down at the fountain's edge, waiting for the second Louisa decides to up and walk away. The Inteleon looks to his fellow explorers.
"What of you three?"
"Going back home." Halcion says. "Something's up.. If it's nothing, then maybe I'll send you a letter - otherwise this is buh-bye."
"Ditto her." Dexys nods.
"And I'll be heading back to Hollow Dream's tavern, there's something there I'm interested in." Masters adjusts the new hat on his head. "If any of you two need me, ask your nearest Krow, they all seem to think I'm their head Honchkrow."
He is their Honchkrow in everything other than flesh. Such a power at his beckon call really leaves Masters with all sorts of mixed feelings. He could easily abuse it if he were the type to be paranoid about every single possible happening around him, learn things no pokemon should not, but the ambitious sort he is not nor will he ever be.
"Affirmative." Says a dutiful Louisa.
The other two simply nod, and the quartet part their ways. Halcion and Dexys lead the trail back to Calico, making sure to stop by the dozens of caravans for some chesto brew to keep their partner alive, while the Inteleon leaves for his own pastures.
Masters on the other hand, has a different destination in mind. He cuts down the same road leading out, past a little plush store, then into a corridor between two tents. At the end lies a violet abode - her abode.
He doesn't bother to knock, Masters barges inside and to the surprise of no one, not a soul is to be seen. There are countless numbers of those orbs here, precious arcane objects left for anyone to come into her doors and ogle at. He takes the nearest orb, raises it high overhead, then as he's about to shatter it into a million pieces-
"Careful now, Cole."
Mismagius appears in a puff of purple mist. The spectre snatches her orb back, wrapping it in her fabric appendages. A cold fog spreads throughout the air as she smiles at him, making no attempt to hide the fangs of her true form.
"You have already given me more than I could ever ask. The passage of my champion pains me so, but you have fulfilled the promise he made in his place." She leans over her desk, fidgeting an orb in her cloth palm. "I don't have much else to give. What troubles you this time? A lack of reward?"
"If I wanted a reward I'd have give up at the first gears.." Masters faces her smile with unflinching anger. "You know more than you let on, there's something you're not telling me and I want to know."
"What would I have to hide from you?" She giggles.
She may not be his foe, but she has led Lucario to his grave. No matter if the gears are in her possession or not, or if Lucario has willingly resigned himself to her, Masters does not forgive so easily. Lucario is gone because of her machinations. Another partner, another friend, taken from him too soon.
He wants to scream.
"Else-" He instantly stammers over his own words, about ready to give in and start screaming. "He's gone, he's gone because of you. Don't you care?"
"I do." She says, laying a cloth appendage upon her gemmed chest. "I wish he could be here for you, I would not want anything else for you to be well. There is nothing I could have done to stop this. He chose it."
"He chose it? You're saying he wanted to die?"
"I warned him of the dangers of Mega Evolution and he chose it willingly, I did not force him into such a decision - I would not endanger my champion. Rei is dear to me, as dear as you've become on short notice."
She reaches a cold hand towards him. He accepts her gesture with a disdainful huff. She holds his jaw like one cuddles an infant, then lets go.
"He's dead, Mismagius."
"I know very well, Cole."
"I want to bring him back." He says, reaching into his cowl and producing the marble-sized mega stone. "I'm going to use Ho-oh's feather on this and bring him back. He didn't deserve to die, he deserved more."
"Of course, and Ho-oh's plume you will find in the tavern awaiting thee. I warn you, however, such an object is not easily retrieved."
"I'm willing to do what it takes." Masters feels his heart rage. "I've been through this once, it can't happen again - it makes no sense…"
"I've told you all you needed to know. There is yet a way for you, and you've found it. " She pauses, the mask of hers slipping, and concern peeks out from behind. "There are others who would crave the power of resurrection for their own as they did the gears. This is all I'm permitted to tell thee, for thou art not my champion, and I cannot imagine a world where you would swear fealty to me."
She is right, he would never swear to a legendary, or any pokemon. He is his own person. Despite everything he remains his own, exploring and adventuring in accordance to what his heart tells him most. Ho-oh's plume is a cure to his heartbreak, nothing else. When it is mended, he may walk a free pokemon, free of the guilt from a long and storied history.
Is it selfish to claim this power to save his own companion? It is, but he had clawed and searched rumors of distorted gears for the sole purpose of bringing back a dear friend. He will not let it take another.
"You're right." He says to the phantom. "I don't belong to you."
He is about ready to smash the phantom into nothingness, but with a single, deep breath, he pulls himself together. Masters steps back, fuming at his mouth, though in enough control not to make the worst mistake of his life.
"I…"
She does not say a word. He feels those eyes staring down his back as he turns around, judging him. He wants to scream.
"I'm going to Calico, I'm bringing my friend, and your champion back. He didn't deserve this. Please, if there's anything you can tell me which could help.
He hears the soft clink of an orb falling back into its plinth. As he passes through the entrance, her voice bids him a dear farewell.
"Please be careful, my Cole. You are not alone."
At the outskirts of Calico Town three figures stand. Halcion sips from one of her many bottles of Chesto Ale while her companion peers through the night with her ghostly eyes, seeing a city clad in darkness. The guild's tower, which had been the jewel of this entire continent, is without light. Not a single glimmer of light shines on the town ahead save for the full moon looming above. Dexys, surveying the scene, speaks.
"It shouldn't be closed, the guild never wanes its light." Dexys looks between the two. "Something is terribly awry."
"Outsiders?" Masters asks
Dexys shrugs.
"I don't know, I don't think outsiders like Darkrai or I would have it out for a silly lighthouse." She looks over her shoulder to Halcion. "You know what powers this tower, do you?"
"The last time I did light duty was forever ago..." The Dragon shakes her head, "- what, you gonna say it's magic?"
"Sort of, the guild's power source was taken from a ruin" Dexys turns to Masters. "I've never been made aware of what it is, but…given everything you've told me, I think we have a fair guess. Could be a Zekrom fan trying to take the pieces back."
There is something amok searching for things from a place which sounds suspiciously like Temporal Tower. Legendary stuff is always a mess; this reeks of it. Though if there were any people capable of handling this situation it is these two. They will deal with the light problem while he keeps his eyes on his goal.
On the opposite side of the river is the home of all of Calico's commerce. From their vantage point on this little hill he can see the moonlit streets: the homes look empty, the streets vacant. Not a single lantern is lit. It was only a month or two ago when this place was lit like the sun, now it is completely dead. If he has had any doubt something terrible has happened, this sight confirms them.
Surely the town can't all be abandoned. What could cause a place as populous as Calico to vanish off the map? An invader? Temporal nonsense?
"Masters?"
Dexys snaps the ghost back to reality. A familiar brew is shoved into his hand, good old Colbur. There is writing on the bottle.
"Fresh from our newest batch, now 100% time-gear free." - Abra.
"He saw you with us earlier, I told him I'd get it to you." The Zoroark looks to Masters. "Do you need anything else?"
"Reviver seeds." The words slip out of Masters' mouth. He sees the Zoroark reach into her cowl and stops her. "L-Look, if I need any healing brews I'll borrow them from the bar. I doubt they'd care."
"Since when did you become a thief?"
Halcion's harmless jest hits like a spear. Masters walks away, trying to forget about the comment. He waves.
"Find me later." Masters calls. "I wanna know who turned off the lights."
The Dragon grunts, and the two guildies lead to the right towards the tower sitting on its own island. The tides seem much too high for them to do anything other than swim across, surely there are a plethora of other ways they can get into their guild. Masters goes left, heading into a coastal village turned ghost town.
The town is dead as could be, no soul hears him wandering through the empty streets, no creatures are lurking in the shadows. The only sound are his footsteps and the crashing of waves hitting the town's docks.
It is a long walk through deafening silence until a sign shows itself: a scrap of fabric caught onto a bent lamp post. The metal post is twisted and bent like a gnarl root, as if it had folded in on itself to catch the red cloth. Probably one of the light workers here, a fire-type.
The wall behind the post has a single clean slice running across it. Could a feral have attacked this worker? The post is bent towards the wall, lining up perfectly with the scar on the wall as if drawn towards the seam. Odd, Masters' only guess is it being the telekinetic craftsmanship of a mad psychic, but it's in too narrow of a space - too precise for it to be a psychic's wrathful doing. Not even they are this clean. Where is the corpse?
Masters stops and listens. Not so much as a footstep is heard through these desolate streets.
He leaves one gruesome sight behind for another. Walking down the street he finds the body of a fire-type - a Braixen. A look of pure terror is permanently etched into their face. There are no wounds that Masters can see, it is as if this worker has dropped dead on the spot. Their appearance is all he needs to know a terrible fate has befallen Calico Town. The sooner he gets to the tavern, the less likely he is to come face to face with it.
He rushes past the corpse. Ahead of him, the street narrows. He sees his light at the end of his tunnel: a plaza and the tavern outside it. Masters spits out two flames in anticipation, holstering the fires in his lantern. Whatever has put the Braixen down must still be in this town; someone should have found this body already and reported it to the guild. Calico should be flooded with explorers trying to hunt the man down.
The questions continue to race. What could have wiped a whole town off the map, what could be so horrible? If Rei were here, he would tell him to move, and with nowhere to run in this barren street, Masters races down cobbled street, shoving his thoughts to the wayside.
People have to be looking for the feather other than him; artefacts of any kind have a way of drawing out the scum of the land. What would someone want to bring to this world which justifies a town being erased - a guild town no less? The notion sinks its claws into him as he continues down the road, the old sign outside the tavern swaying, beckoning Masters.
He walks, and walks. Masters' head is pounding. He is close. His feet pound against the cobblestone like a drum.
The fur on the back of his neck rise up. Someone has to be following him. He picks up the pace, breaking into a full sprint down the corridor. Why wasn't he running in the first place?
He runs, and runs. He keeps running till his breath becomes hoarse. He shuts his eyes and collects himself, painting. His eyes reopen
The tavern remains out of reach.
Is he dreaming? He must, he is no closer than he was minutes ago.. He keeps walking; the tavern keeps getting further. He truly believes he is going mad up until his ears flick, catching a most strange sound.
It is not the sounds of footsteps, not the sounds of waves, but a faint whistling of wind sounding behind his ears. With every step he makes it whistles in kind. An invisible force is reaching for him, causing the winds to rage, trying to stop him.
His steps slow for a split second, so too does this force, all but confirming his suspicions as he reaches into his lantern, fingers gripping tightly around a flame. He turns around.
A horrid scream slices through the air, the world behind him warped and twisted, folded into each other to keep him close to this thing behind him. He lets loose his Infernal Parade and the familiar scream of Spacial Rend tears through them, crunching it and everything in its slash into nothingness. The gravitational force pulls him inwards, into a great shadow.
Appearing in a vortex of rings is a figure tall, dark and gaunt. A pair of blue eyes glare straight into him, craving his demise. His hair, the princely jewellery, the familiar vortex he appears from - all of it strikes fear in the Typhlosion's heart.
It's Darkrai.