"This will be enough, Oracle."
The throne room, as she had described it, was little more than a nook in a dungeon - in a place far from the rest of society where time is frozen. Thick black curtains hide the rest of the dungeon from light, and cClad in candlelight is the so-called prince.
A pitch black creature, tall, gaunt, and with a handsome head of hair. This the prince his guide spoke of, Darkrai. As the hatted ghost seats Cole he retrieves a bottle from a nearby stand and pours his guest a glass - Oran Wine - and hands it to Cole. He reluctantly takes it, but he does not take a drink.
"I thought you would ask me for more." The Mismagius speaks. "I have given you what you wanted. I expect a return, Darkrai."
"Yes, of course. The sableye trapped in this time answer to me now." Darkrai's searing eyes briefly flash to Cole. "They will find you your corpse. I've already sent them abroad. You should do the same if you're this desperate to find your vessel."
"This is the closest I have to possessing what the knight promised me. I am going to play my cards close." She sighs. "You are an asset prince, not an ally. Do not see his absence as a role to be fulfilled."
"What would you call a left hand? Are you insinuating I am the Knight's servant, his slave?"
"I insinuate nothing, prince. I am telling you to rein in your ambitions - just as the knight would say."
The words fly past his head. The knight? Servitude? He was expecting to come face to face with the man behind all of this, but this Prince is seeming more like a Peon than a ruler, a fact which seems to crawl under his fabric-like skin. Darkrai huffs, looking from the phantom and gesturing to the glass in Cole's hands.
"You're disturbing our guest, madam." He says. "We will discuss this affair afterwards."
"Indeed we shall."
And with a bow, the phantom leaves the tent. A moment passes wherein Darkrai's eyes track a figure behind the cloth, then finally, silence. He pours himself a glass of the same bottle, taking it into his hands, then briefly pressing it against his featureless face. He does not appear to have a mouth, or anything for that matter save for his intense eyes and silvery hair, but half the glass' contents vanishes.
Cole feels the weight on his shoulders. He looks at his glass, the blue fluids beckoning him like some kind of temptress. It is not poisonous, it is just a drink, a gesture of kindness to a prince to a famed explorer.
So why is he even contemplating this? He sloshes it around, the blue contents become a whirlwind in his glass. Pure blue, oran, sweet as ever. This glass is no different from the dozens of bottles he has downed in Spinda's Bar since…since…
He can have this, just this little sip to show a modicum of trust. Cole presses the cup to his lips and drinks, letting the Oran juices flow through him. He sets the glass aside and waits.
And waits…
"I am flattered you would think I'd deceive you, but I've no use for you dead, nor captured." Darkrai steals the words right out from his mouth, setting his glass down.. "I would have wanted Dent here rather than you, but the greater powers fail to return him, and for this you have my deepest condolaces."
"Greater powers?" Cole asks. "Are you talking about Dialga?"
"Indeed. Even in the realms of the immortal there are certain others who stand above everyone else, and there is one even above them. These "higher powers" are those who control our reality. We are pieces in their game, and the knight my other spoke of opposed such an order."
"The Knight has destroyed all which divides the mortal from the living, and because of him, I am able to speak with you. I am free to choose my own path just as any mortal, and any mortal is free to choose a higher being. Our Destiny is no longer set in stone. We may choose our lives as we see fit."
"This light -this higher power - still rages. It casts meddlers from different realities onto the world to fulfill its goals, and such meddlers were thy friend, the human."
Dent, the meddler's name is Dent. A human not of this world, cast to the future then cast back in time by Celebi, the one who partnered along an infamous thief to spare their reality from grief and suffrage - to end it all. Only two years out, he already hates his part in this temporal game, for having dealt a final blow to a reality of loving, caring souls.
"Are you listening, Cole?"
He is shaken awake by Darkrai's words. The shadow leans forwards, staring into the Quilava's weary soul. Cole
"If you believe me your enemy, then I am not. I serve the knight, one who would see this meddlesome light and power above all of us fade into nothing. I am to create a world of darkness for my Knight, to create in a world where this meddlesome light may finally peter out" Darkrai puts a hand up to his heart. "You have foiled my previous attempt. I aimed to create one through the destruction of Temporal Tower, and I have brought thee here so you may know my aims are pure."
Dent no longer exists. Cole is the only living proof of the human - the outsider's existence. His partner fought for a world without darkness. He cannot let this come to pass..
"You're a Dark Type, aren't you, a Legendary?" Cole points to the prince. "You have everything to gain from a World of Darkness. Who cares about higher powers when in a world of darkness, you're going to the only one? Dent stopped you once, and I'll do it again, even if it means losing everything."
The Dark-type legendary leans back, stealing another sip from his glass, before he sighs and speaks once more. He furrows his brow.
"The world of darkness is a phase, a state of being throughout a thousand years, and when the light of this higher power is diminished, then paradise may come - a paradise where in our sons may decide the world for themselves without a great meddler. This is what the knight envisioned when he destroyed Destiny Tower, and an ambition I too share."
"I need your help - the Knight needs your help - in rooting out the attempts the Light makes to undo our paradise. You know these outsiders by heart, you have surpassed one by outliving him. We need you to help silence this baleful light."
"I want you to be able to live as you have: your own person. Please, Cole. I need your help in building a better world, a world your human would have want."
Those final words ring through his hard, reverberating through Cole's entire being. He clenches his chest tight, and shuts his eyes.
Dent wanted a world where they can exist freely of any Legendary's reign, a world wherein every pokemon comes together and joins their fellows in building a world of peace and tranquility. This is the final message he imparted before fading in Cole's arms, to spread his message to create a world of peace - free of fear.
Cole takes a long swig of his glass, drowning out any doubts with alcoholic inhibition. Dent would've wanted him to take advantage of Darkrai's favor, but no matter what Darkrai says, his friend's memory entrusts Cole to remain true to himself.
With a final gulp, Cole sets the glass next to him. He takes a deep, quivering breath.
"I-"
I refuse.
How, how was he back? This made no sense, Darkrai should be dead! Palkia dealt with him, banished him out of existence! How did he come back to haunt him? Why? Why could not have the fates aligned to bring his darling back? Why did it have to be this wretch?
The familiar, haunting sight of Spacial Rend slashes in front of him - condensing space and time into a razor's edge and pulling Masters forwards. Darkrai raises his hand for another chop, but Masters halts him, quickly grabbing his palm before it could come crashing down..
Darkrai's eyes are glowing with rage, staring right into Masters' heart.
"As long as you meddlers draw breath, my world of darkness cannot come!" Darkrai snarls in Masters' face. "You would stand to destroy his paradise! As long as you exist, our future remains clouded!"
"Your world? Aren't you Zekrom's lackey? Are you trying to steal his valor?"
"My nightmare will engulf this world in Darkness!" He proclaims. "I shall lead you through the darkness to the knight's paradise! And you, idolater, shall be left behind!"
Darkrai shoves Masters away as he comes barreling downwards with another slash. The space-destroying move narrowly misses, sucking him straight back into Darkrai's grasp. This time, Masters is waiting for it. A swift Thunder Punch rocks Darkrai's chin, sending him careening into the warped street.
The buildings, roads, and everything has been scrunched into a narrow space by numerous cuts from Spacial Rend. Masters is nowhere closer to the Hollow Dreams tavern as he was when he began. Facing down a ghost of his past, Masters stands his ground.
"What do you want? You want me dead?" Masters shouts. "If you're holding a grudge for this long then it's your problem more than it is mine. I don't care about your plans! I have something I want, and if you're gonna get in the way of that then I have no choice!"
"Oh, and what may this be?" Darkrai hovers upright. "A particular feather, is it? Do you intend to squander the miracle of rebirth on your own friend? Art thee so selfish? Out of all the people who have walked this planet, are you going to say thy friend is more deserving?"
No, he is not. The world has already deprived him of one partner. It should not be permitted to take another. Higher powers be damned, Masters does not deserve this, and Darkrai should know that.
"No one is, but Rei-"
"Rei? Did you forget about someone?"
He hesitates for a split second, and Darkrai soars towards him.
A third Spacial Rend comes crashing down. He braces himself. Stars and Cosmos carve into Masters' being, slicing his arm to pieces. Masters lets out a horrid scream, forcing Darkrai back with wild kicks.
Masters does not have the stomach to look at it. He just runs, corking open the colbur and pouring it over the gaping wound. He grits through the pain.
If Darkrai wants the feather, too bad. He will gun for it, use it up, and leave Darkrai with nothing. Does Masters know how to use it in the first place? No, but getting it first will prove a point to his nemesis, that after all this time his friends are more important than years of an unrequited grudge.
He books it towards the tavern, making leaps and bounds over the brick road, but each step he makes is accompanied by the loud scream of space being crunched behind him. Slash after slash, Darkrai condenses Masters' head start into nothing.
The Typhlosion thinks quickly. He is barely closer to the tavern than he was before, but to his left, facing the town square, is a shop with big windows. He takes the bottle in hand, waits for the inevitable slash from behind, then throws, shattering the shopfront to pieces.
Shards of glass careen past Masters, drawn in by Spacial Rend, skewering Darkrai's arm. This time, it buys Masters enough space to bound out of Darkrai's range, breaking straight into the square. The purple tent isn't here, the stalls are empty. Everyone has seemingly gotten up and vanished, which given Darkrai's back to make himself the world's problem, is all too possible.
He can see the tavern. The sign outside beckons him, the golden light from within shining out into the street. Masters sprints towards it, and right on queue, the fur on his back sticks up.
Masters hits the floor as a wave of Dark Pulse surges overhead. In a split second he pulls himself onto his feet, another and the prince's shadow descends upon him. He fires down a blast from atop the tavern itself.
Masters throws himself towards the tavern, but the blast narrowly grazes him, throwing him to his goal whilst scoring his back in darkness. His carcass crumbles down the stairs, and hits the tavern floor with a yelp of pain.
He fumbles for his holster. Pulling out a flame, he faces the door above. He hears a crack, and the roof there collapses, entombing Masters in the tavern.
Masters breathes a sigh of relief, and is not the only one.
"Phew!" A familiar voice speaks up. "Knew you'd always come back!"
Minstrel! He's on the bar, and holding the big shiny feather they are looking for. Just looking at it makes Masters' heads spin. Despite overwhelming the tavern with a bright golden glow, the color of the plume itself shines like an ever-changing rainbow. Masters gets onto his feet, and faces his friend, gripping his wound tight.
"Minstrel!" Masters smiles. "I thought you'd be done for! Where did everyone go?"
"To sleep." The chatot chuckles. "I'd have been history as well, were it not for a friend of ours!"
He bows his hat, revealing a purple ribbon hidden by his giant Skarmory's plume. The material catches light in a strange way, almost like it sucks in the glow of the feather itself. Seeing it, Masters knows everything.
"I had no idea you were friends with her." Masters says. "He must not be dumb enough to mess with a friend of hers', excluding me for reasons which should be…pretty apparent."
"Don't need to tell me that boring story, but I can't do anything for you other than give you this thing myself." Chatot holds out the rainbow wing. "I don't know this bird's tales by heart - Ho-oh's rarely spoken of outside of those who pray for good luck. You're going to have to figure out the rest on your own."
Masters takes the feather into his hand. The quill, warm to the touch, feels like a summer wind. It begs to be regarded with admiration and amazement, but he simply stows it away, pinning it behind the dark metal quill in his hat. There will be no figuring out the riddles of legendaries so long as he has one breathing down his neck. When Darkrai is dealt with, he will have all the time in the world to unravel ho-oh's web.
"Thank you." Masters takes a deep breath. "What about you?"
"Not worried in the slightest." The small bird gestures to his hat once again. "She said a lot of things to me, the least of which involved you being in trouble and me by association. I was offered protection, so I took it. It's obviously more complicated but those are the least of your worries, you still have a pesky criminal to attend to, don't you?"
"Criminal does not describe it. I didn't even get to tell you about everything that's happened, I don't even know why he's come back all of a sudden other than to spite me."
A howl of wind rattles the ceiling above. Chunks of rubble are blown aside, and a shadow descends from behind the curtains. Darkrai is here.
"You've a storied history together, I'm sure you could always ask him nicely." Minstrel says with a chuckle. "Does he want you done?"
Masters holds up whatever has become of his arm. The Chatot gags in horror, and looks towards the rainbow behind the bar. He grabs a drink from out there, two bottles. Masters catches them. Sitrus and Chesto. One powerful healing concoction; the other needs no introduction.
"Yeah."
The typhlosion mutters. He bites the cork out of the Sitrus bottle, and lets half the remedy pour over his gaping wound. It stings like a mad beedrill. A moment or two later, he can finally move his fingers, and slides both bottles into his bandolier.
"He is not suddenly about to come in here and use you as a hostage tool to get me to fork over the feather, right?" Masters looks to Minstrel. "He doesn't like me being alive."
"And tick off a really scary lady? He wouldn't dare."
The door to the tavern creaks open. A glowing, glistening interior is engulfed in Darkrai's shadow. He descends from the steps, walking on thin, insect-like appendages.
"That's all I need to hear, Minstrel." He says. "Now do both of us a favor, and make sure you stay far away from us."
With neither question nor fuss, Masters hears Minstrel flap his wings to safety, either behind the bar or somewhere else. Darkrai looms.
"Cole Masters," Darkrai hisses like a serpent, "Through your actions, you've unraveled the knight's ambitions and dealt his hand an unforgivable wound. The thousand years of darkness is destined; yet you would shackle us to this feeble light!"
"A thousand years of Darkness?" Masters glares, watching the shadow descend the stairs. "Have you ever seen what your world's like? Water doesn't flow, the crops wilt, the people suffer. They would have me wipe them out of existence than let you have your way!"
The pitch-black pokemon drifts down. He holds out a hand and a razor-thin line of energy forms between his fingertips. Like a shard of glass it is transparent, Masters swears he can see the stars inside it.
Where were his wounds? He should be skewered with glass. No, he devoured people's dreams to heal himself.
"I will admit, my plan to hasten its arrival through the collapse of Temporal Tower was a fool's endeavor. And I have you to thank for readying my people for the world to come. I am certain you have quelled their suffrage."
Celebi. Their bleak world is inevitable, but they made something of it in the future because of Masters' guidance.
"Celebi, Grovyle - that human's world was all suffering without reason. Without my rule at its helm, the world of darkness serves nothing. I am anointed by Zekrom for this purpose! This is the future I choose!"
He brushes aside his locks of silver hair. A crown rests above his searing blue eyes; a crown which he does not deserve. Rhetoric, selfish rhetoric, Masters has heard this song countless times before.
"They are fine without you, the people don't need a tyrant breathing down their backs. You're bringing about the inevitable, and you're succeeding, isn't that enough for you?"
"And leave the knight's ambition unfulfilled, let the world dwell in their sufferage? There is no light in the world to come. Zekrom chose me because he needed me to bring about this world for his paradise! I, and only I canl lead you through the darkest of days."
Got him talking, at least. Masters scans the empty tavern, spotting Chatot behind the bar. His note-shape plume rises over the counter. They lock eyes, and in the second, Masters mouths something. Minstrel nods.
Masters spits out two flames, refilling his lanterns.
"I don't care." Masters says. "The feather belongs to me. I do not have the fight in me to keep up with you. You can have your way with this world.."
Darkrai bellows with a dark laugh. His eyes narrow in on masters, the glass between his fingers glistens.
"And if you will not surrender Ho-oh's plume, then you will surrender your life!"
In the blink of an eye, Masters throws his spectral flame. Darkrai surges through the embers and brings down the blade. The tavern buckles under Spacial Rend's influence. The floor is torn to shreds. Splinters soar towards the cut in reality, crunching down into a sliver of nothingness.
Masters is brought forwards by the force. Darkrai slashes again. There is a scream.
Every bottle behind the bar shatters as Minstrel lets loose an ear-splitting Boomblast. A rainbow of ar hundred blades fly to the space inbetween Darkrai's fingers, skewering the hand inches from Masters' face. As Darkrai turns to the culprit, Masters delivers a deft Thunder Punch to the being's gut, sending Darkrai reeling into a bar table. He breaks it fro the door.
"Imprudent wretch!" Darkrai screams. "You would forgo her protection for this fool?"
There's a second scream, another boomburst, cut short by Minstrel's body hitting the bar and falling aslumber. Masters makes it outside in the aftermath.
What is the plan, running? He will only get so far. Stopping Darkrai is of utmost importance, he will chase Masters to the ends of the continent until he figures out how to use this feather or die first. Removing Darkrai from this question is a fantastic idea, one the lesser half of him wholly supports, but doing so is going to make things way way worse.
One Darkrai is enough, the second one - the one not from this world is another matter altogether. She came here because Darkrai was missing, done in by Palkia it seems. She took his place, and he simply took it back upon her demise.
The Prince is absolutely right about one thing, so long as Masters is alive he is going to be a thon in Darkrai's side. Zekrom, higher powers, or Mismagius - whatever she is - can complain all they like, he is not going to give Darkrai what he wants. He will get Rei back, they will figure it out together. He just needs to survive this one fight alone.
Alone, he is alone. He cannot do this alone.
Masters looks across the river. The guild's tower, dead, houses the two people on this continent who happen to have experience in handling nightmare kindred.
He runs across the plaza into the empty streets, retracing his steps as fast as he can to the pearly bridge separating two halves of this town. Thinking quickly, he swaps his hat for the old bird's, then whistles.
Seconds later, he hears a pair of wings overhead. A Murkrow soars above him. Masters shouts to them.
"Go look for Louisa! Tell them to get to Calico as fast as he can!" Masters shouts. "Try the society up north, he's the pink Intel-"
A flash, like lightning, lights the sky. Spacial Rend passes through the Murkrow. There is a pause, then it squawks in terror as its body folds in on itself, gravity pulling it into part, condensing it down into a blade's width, and then into nothingness. The rooftops erupt into a cacophony of caws, because of course they are more here, and too many flee at once for Darkrai to destroy them.
Masters hears an ear-splitting ringing from behind. Darkrai, having caught up in seconds, whips a Spacial Rend. It hits something invisible as the whole street, buildings and all crunch together, shortening the space between them. He goes for another, shaving reality down again and again.
He is barely making progress on his own, but through Darkrai's own help he will be teleported to the end of this street if he keeps scrunching space like he is doing, Darkrai still outpaces him by a landslide, he needs to find his way out.
His out comes in the form of one of the thousands of things left behind when everyone in this town vanished at once. A cart, full of things, sticking out of an alleyway. As soon as he approaches he doffs Honchkrow's hat. He pulls the cart out of the alley as he passes, then lets his fire rage. Facing his mane to Darkrai, he fires off a barrage of scoring rocks - collateral be damned, and turning the wooden cart into a slew of fiery splinters.
The blast nearly throws him forwards on the floor, but still, he runs, snagging a glance back at his handiwork.
Everything is frozen. The remains of the cart, the fiery rocks, suspended in halted time. Darkrai slips through the wreckage as a shadow along the earth, reforming before Masters with a Rend already prepared.
He goes for the slash, a swift Thunder Punch disables his swinging arm. Darkrai switches hands but Masters is quick to seize both his limbs, locking the Prince in an impromptu hold.
"It's already started." Darkrai states. "With every soul I trap in the nightmare, Darkness spreads, time shall halt as it should have before."
"Same tricks again?" Masters growls. "Palkia will stop you! You're setting yourself up for failure."
"Stop me? My knight shall protect me. Zekrom slew any who would stand in his path, Palkia is no different. Once I have taken the plume from your corpse, he will be returned!"
Darkrai's arms are becoming cold. Masters tightens his grasp.
"I can name one. His name's Rei, and I'll make sure you won't forget him!"
The cold shoots down Darkrai's arms. Masters pulls him closer, shifting Darkrai off balance, and throwing him into a swift Thunder Punch. The lightning from his knuckles constricts Darkrai's limb, paralysis setting hold. Masters quickly bends his arm in ways it shouldn't, pointing the palm right into his face as the obvious Dark Void leaves his fingers. Darkrai shrieks, and is cut short, fading out of reality altogether.
Seconds, he has seconds. Masters books it, heading straight down the road. He swerves to his left, the bridge lying in wait.
"Halcion, Dexys!" He shouts. "I'm coming!"
He passes by a familiar, twisted lamppost, past buildings reduced to warped chunks. He sets foot on the bridge, stampeding over the cobblestone arch. Masters makes it halfway when something tears through him. A wicked gale filled with Dark Aura - Dark Pulse, courtesy of the legendary hidden by the bridge's arch.
The energy wreaks havoc on his undead body, throwing him against the railing with its powerful gale, reducing the stones around him to rubble. He cries out in agony as dark, hateful flames wilt his flesh. Instincts take over, he reaches into his bandolier for the bottle when a Spacial Rend rips it out of his hand into Darkrai's, collapsing the bridge in the progress, bringing him right where Darkrai wants Masters - groveling beneath him.
"Sitrus, what a waste." Darkrai chucks it off the bridge, shattering the precious tonic against the solidified river. "Your craftiness is admirable, I nearly regret having to take your life. But you had chosen this path against the Knight long ago, your death at our hands was an inevitability."
"You should be-" Masters coughs.
"Do you think casting me into a nightmare I have utter control over would abate me? Foolishness, Cole Masters, your desperation brought me victory. And now I will take from you your life, and have the knight returned to me. That infernal light will peter out in his world of Darkness; the Knight's paradise shall arrive without thee."
Breathing feels like pushing a dagger up to his lung. Damnable typing has been more of a problem than it is worth. There has to be something he can do. Darkrai likely has a way to see past Smokescreen; Infernal parade will simply tickle him. This leaves an all-to-dangerous eruption and an all too weak thunderpunch to purchase his way out of this.
Masters struggles. The railing, wracked by Dark Pulse, crumbles when he reaches for it, throwing him against the floor as Darkrai comes closer, enshrouding him like a cloud of doom as a Spacial Rend forms at his fingers.
"Th-The lady, The Oracle." Masters sputters out. "Do you think she would approve of this? I've helped her, helped your knight, you're here because of me."
"Bargaining, Cole?" He stops. "The time for deals has long past."
Darkrai is the left hand. He is The Prince, Zekrom is The Knight, the ghost lady is The Oracle. Unless there is a secret forth to his triumvirate then she has to be the right hand, Zekrom outclasses them both but she outclasses Darkrai - she must.
"I'm not making a deal." Masters speaks. "You're out of control - you're not acting on the knight's best interests.
"I am, because you would waste this precious opportunity on a worthless man. You don't care about saving anyone other than who is closest to you. Reviving Zekrom is a gift to all, we need him to suffocate these last motes of light in our world, we need him in order to ensure our paradise. I could bring it on my own but think. Cole - do you know what could be accomplished with his return?"
"I am guaranteed my throne. My reign is to come whether he is here or he is not. Why do you want him to remain aslumber? Do you want me to take the World of Darkness uncontested?"
The anger in Darkrai's eyes bleeds into frustration.
"If this is your manner of pleading for life, then hand the feather to me. My ambitions are greater than seeing you to your grave, Zekrom is worth more than my squabble with you.
Darkrai's old voice returns; the one which tempted him long ago. Cunning, a leader sure of themselves for all the right reasons, one who could make swallowing the world in darkness for decades to come sound like a golden age. Darkrai is changing persons before his eyes.
"Do you think she would want this, then? His oracle, the right hand."
Mention of it strikes a cord in him, as if tugging on an invisible chain. His loyalty to Zekrom is loyalty to her. No wonder his ego is so frail, no wonder he would go so mad if anyone spat on the one bit authority he has. Masters and Palkia together ruined him, whether he admits this aloud or not.
It is a fact he seemingly cannot face. His eyes narrow, he brushes aside his flowing mane, frustrated - backed into a corner no worse than Masters'.
"You forwent her offer." Darkrai states. "She sent me here in search of Ho-oh's plume, and told me of you, knowing I would have your head."
And she warned Masters. What is her plan? Playing both sides? Even when he spat in the face of her favor, she would still protect Masters. Odd. It nulls the feeling of betrayal altogether.
"You know me enough to want me gone. I'm a problem to you, I don't blame you." Masters coughs. Purple ichor splatters the ground. "Since Dialga, since you, I haven't wanted to work alongside those higher people. I can't find any kinship with them, something about seeming so small compared to them, like little pieces on a board."
There is an exception, Celebi. Bless her heart. Masters collects his breath.
"The Oracle, right? She took one's place, she is one. I don't want to live under anyone's claws, especially a legendary's. I had to say no. I want to keep living how I live, and if I have to be lost for another fifteen years, then I say it's worth it."
"You want freedom, you said it yourself, freedom from whatever is even above you people. I just want to be my own. If I choose to spend that life stopping you, then it's at least my choice, not because something big told us we were created to fight each other. She said I reminded her alot of the knight, and I think this is what she meant, someone who decides for themselves, who encites change on behalf of all of the worlds', not just because he wants to."
He had the gears in hand. Whether it be freezing the Sea solid or potentially bringing someone from the abyss, he had the power to make it happen. Yet no matter what choice he could have made with the gears it would have affected thousands, surely.
"You live on a different layer from me, you have a different sense of scale. He let you go free, so you choose to serve him. I don't have any big plans with my freedom, I just want no one to choose for me."
Darkrai lords over him, his searing eyes wavering. His cold figure does not seem to draw breath, yet something, a rumble inside him sounds out. The tension is thick enough to be cut.
"I want you dead."
A screech cuts through the air. He throws the rend with frustration, and shouts. He grips his head palms, like he's about to crumble into a pile of black muck.
"You are a one of a kind person. You're not some chosen human, an interloper on behalf of the greater will, you're just you and irreplaceable in your resolve. I wanted you gone because of the threat you hold. I hate you; I hate that I can't have you."
Darkrai combs through his mane with his long fingers. another reverberation swells within the dark being. He faces the guild's tower, where its light and protection have been stripped from this world. No wonder he would begin here, where this damnable thing shines its brightest. It is not the light he abhors, it is its chains it uses to bind him and a dear friend Masters had long lost.
"Cole Masters." Darkrai speaks.
"Darkrai?"
He allows Masters to get to his feet, to wipe away the gunk around his mouth. Masters' chest still feels like it has an arrow driven through it. He faces the tower with Darkrai, both staring out into a river which has run black, the waves slowing by each second, warping into spires of hardened nothingness.
"Zekrom took an outsider beneath his wing, freed him from the light's ambition. It was with them they raged against the light. A war long fought which ended in my Knight's demise, at his partner's own hands. He accepted this death, contented, one can fathom. It had been the outsider's choice, not the Light's."
There is a pause.
"I did not conspire to kill Dent. The Oracle had wanted him; nothing could have been done. I tried. I could not account for the thing's cruelty."
He is not given the moment to ponder. Darkrai faces him down, the feather, slung in the hat around Masters, reflects in his gaze.
"Do not interfere with the Darkness here, it will save you, and do not squander the gift you possess. I have done what is needed of me by her, the rest of this relies on your hands - mortals."
There is something in the distance, a lone figure, trailing down the riverside. Halcion, her scales burned to a radiant crisp by golden embers. Dexys is nowhere. A sense of imminent dread rakes its claws into Masters. What is going on? What would Darkrai have to fear? He looks to the Darkrai as he floats away, hands clasped behind his back.
"What are you…"
He says nothing. Masters tries to catch up to his shadow, raking his injured body across the cobblestones. He shouts.
"Answer me, what's going on?!"
Like a shadow beneath the waves, Darkrai descends into the earth itself, fading from his reality and speeding along as an incorporeal thing - leaving Masters to face whatever is happening here. Icy cold sweat runs down Masters' head. His mind races, his body is a wreck, and so too is Halcion.
Something shines on the horizon. It feels like a heat wave..A golden light radiates from the tower, a second sun in this world of Darkness, drowning out everything and him in its intensity. Pulsating veins race across the land, turning buildings, all they touch in their infernal glow into ashes, bending distorted poles into form then incinerating them with its glory. The earth trembles, Halcion sprints through the incoming chaos.
She screams.
"There's nothing left! Get out of here!"