Sorry this update was a bit slower than usual. I'm currently on a vaycay and struggle to find some decent internet to publish. Also, I'm currently working on a new story. Or rather, I'm working on several different concepts, and developing to see which ones I like the best. You may see some updates from me for new stories, but don't worry, this fic is my first priority. I'm just going to be throwing some concepts out there and see how people respond since I tend to be a little torn between two storylines in particular. So whichever seems to be received best, I guess that will help me make a decision. Anyway-
Here's the next chapter. Things begin to move a bit quickly here, but I'll be slowing down the story after this chapter to give you all some time to breath haha. We technically, still have a long way to go ;)
Thank you for all your reviews! I greatly appreciate the encouragement :)
Chapter 14
Deep in the night, Ash moved deftly in the dark to uncover and clean Serena's bandages. He had hoped she was asleep, but as he began unwrapping the stained cloth, she stirred and whispered his name. Ash paused to take her warm breath blowing across the streams of moonlight, sighs of cold light from the window, lips touching her white skin. He breathed in to steady his hands, shaking as they continued their silent graft over her wound. Ash couldn't think straight knowing her bright eyes watched him curiously, the way they always had even when they first met. Back then, they had unsettled him in a different way. Back then, they inspired him to work harder—to show off, in a way—they made him want to be a better person, someone less obnoxious and self-consumed. The made him want to impress her, and that was before he even loved her.
Now her eyes begged for him to kiss her. He spoke their language well, and could always tell what she wanted in a glance, sometimes long before her words identified the desire for themselves. Ash kept avoiding her stare. He knew that is he looked for too long, he would get lost and never find his way back. And he didn't want to hurt her. He didn't want to drag her down with him; like dragging an angel down in to hell, like feeding fire to a creature of ice, hoping for it to stay frozen under the flames. She wouldn't survive.
Could you?
Ash dismissed the voice, but stilled. He hadn't recognized it. Had that been his own thought? He had heard it as clear as a glass hitting the floor, cracking against his visceral conscious.
"Ash, are you okay?"
Ash snapped back to present, finally unwrapping the scar.
He frowned.
The skin over the top had healed. It was smooth and clean, but underneath her flesh was still black, with tiny dark veins expanding outward. Ash ran his fingers over the bare flesh and she flinched.
"Does it hurt?" he asked, looking at her now, his eyes dark beneath the midnight; his hair a black silhouette against the wall. "When I touch you…does it hurt?"
"Yes," Serena breathed, her voice trembling as he pulled his touch away from her skin, "but I no longer feel the scar,"
Ash watched her while he processed her words, resisting the urge to move up her body, feeling his way to her lips. Without warning, he stood up from the bed and stepped out to the kitchen to grab a bitter powder, which he mixed in with water and had her drink. He watched Serena's face contort in to mild disgust as she took the strong shot of medicine, and he couldn't help but smile, amused.
"What?" Serena asked, looking a bit shocked by his sudden grin.
"I don't know, I was just," Ash tried to suppress his bubbling lightness, "I remember the time you made me take this disgusting medicine, and I spat it out all over your clothes."
"I was so angry with you," Serena finished, remembering immediately the moment, smiling.
The two sat silently, smiling at each other for the first time in years. The moment fell in to a natural bliss, one they relished in secret—afraid that its acknowledgment should shatter the instant.
Eventually Ash looked down at the floor, his smile fading but not entirely.
"Can," he began, but stammered, second guessing himself, "can I show you something?"
Serena kept smiling. Her eyes swimming in the starlight.
"Sure,"
"Do you feel okay to stand?"
"I would feel better if I had clothes,"
"Right," Ash blushed, and began scrambling to find her something to wear.
xxxxx
Because her old clothes were tattered and bloody, Serena found herself in one of Ash's large shirts. He had grown so tall, that the black T-shirt stopped a few inches above her knees. She told him it was fine, and to herself, she liked the way it smelled of him—like pines and firewood and the cold. Serena tried to ignore the growing weakness in her body, hugging herself tightly to fight away the crisp air. She moved out of the bed, finding the door to the living room, the cabin empty, and then towards the front door.
Outside, Ash waited for her, pacing back and forth, wiping his hands on his pants. He looked so young to her then, like a boy waiting to take a girl to the prom, but Serena didn't regret her lack of a gown. In his shirt, she felt one with him again.
When he saw her, Ash smiled, but more nervously. He took her hand and led in her in to the forest, walking backwards still facing her; the way behind him memorized.
"This cabin used to be my Dad's," Ash said, "Drifter showed it to me back when he was helping me to be free—back when we both believed it was possible."
"When did your dad ever use it?" Serena asked, her eyes never leaving his, never staying in to the dark woods. Her full trust on him.
"Back when he was trying to escape,"
Ash then pulled her in close, a little too roughly and she collapsed on to his chest. She breathed him in, panting. Serena watched the forest dance in the dark, listening to his heart quicken while the seconds drugged their minds, manipulating time in to a circular continuum.
"Sorry," Ash said, helping her rebalance, "you're still weak. Maybe we should—,"
"I want to be here," Serena said, placing a hand on his pectoral, feeling the heat emit from the skin beneath his shirt, "I need fresh air."
Ash decided to bend down and swing her in to his arms, carrying her bridal style through the woods, the dead sticks and leaves crunching beneath his boots.
"This way you don't have to work too hard," Ash grinned, his boyish humor returning in small fragments, sparkling in his eyes.
"You know how much I hate physical labor," she smiled coyly, trying to hide the flush in her neck, and the incessant hammering of her heart.
Was this a dream? Did the world outside even exist?
Did the last five years, without him, even happen?
Serena hugged him close, crushing the last five years away from the space between them, watching them break apart like the organic debris on the floor of the woods. They felt distant and veiled in disbelief. Serena closed her eyes and was taken back to the first moments he kissed her—back to sleeping bags pulled close together, to sneaking behind dressing rooms and stage lights—back until all the nightmares disappeared, as though they never haunted her dreams in the first place.
"Where are we going?"
"We're almost there," Ash picked up his pace, Serena a feather in his arms, and he did his best not to break her.
Suddenly the forest broke. Ash stopped and nodded before him towards a large lake, white under the illumination of the moon and the vast expanse of stars overhead. They fell in to the water like jewels rippling in the dark. The trees walling them in to the scene, growing like an embrace around the body of water, the black silhouettes standing before the blue velvet sky.
"Ash," Serena breathed, but he set her down on the ground and placed a finger to her lip, his other hand still intertwined with hers; his thumbs circling the inside of her wrist.
"Watch" he grinned, and began forming a ball of blue fire in his palm, coddling it until it grew large enough to let go.
It shot out into the lake like a star, a burst of steam erupting from where it entered the water, but the fire didn't go out. Instead, Serena watched it fly deeper and deeper until it ignited against the bottom where a wild fire set the lake a blaze with blue-green light. The flames bloomed everywhere, illuminating the watery floor in to a carpet of arctic-colored crystals. An aurora of blues and greens and pinks sparkled out from the water, waving in tandem with the rippling waves.
Serena gasped. The crystal fire still going, the radiance caressing her face.
"How?"
Ash stood beside her, walking her over to the water, touching it with his fingers.
"It's actually Charizard's power," Ash began to explain, his hand moving with color, "we are so linked that its power has become my own. Even without it near, I can use parts of its ability. The fire I used to illuminate the crystal was actually not fire at all, but dragon breath. That's why the water couldn't extinguish it. Dragon breath lingers on crystal. That's why dragons collect gems. They like to lie in beds of their own fire."
"It's beautiful," Serena skimming the surface of the lake with her fingers, feeling the cold ripples touch her skin. She stared hard at the crystals and could see the dragon fire waving at the core of the mineral, embedded inside like an encased flame.
"Ash," Serena turned to him, "the power you have…is that because you evolved Charizard in to its ultimate evolved form? Is that what it means to be 'an ultimate?'"
Ash nodded, his smile fading. "It's not an ability that is well-known or common. It's not given freely, either."
Serena reached up to turn his face to her. His amber eyes, orbs of speckled fire, catching sparks of the light around them.
"Ash," she said, gliding her hand from his hair down the side of his face, "you're still making things beautiful. Even in the dark."
Bonnie woke up in sunlight. She gasped and ran out the door of the barracks before Kaleb could ask her what was wrong. Her small, bare feet ran through the sand, across thorny grass, until she reached Akoni Akela's hut, where he was sitting on the porch, shirtless, with a ukulele in his arms.
"Ah! Miss Bonnie, have you come to join me for the tradition in which we sing beach songs before rushing in to battle?" Akoni laughed and then began his foreign songs, singing them in a raspy throat that reminded Bonnie of the outer shell of a ripened coconut.
"I had a dream," she says, but he keeps singing as she approaches. She stands in front of him, her hands on her hips, tapping her foot.
Akoni finishes the song on major chord, his voice in harmony with the notes, and then he sighs with delight and amusement.
"We all have dreams, but alas! Today I lead some men to Kalos, and my dream of sitting here in my rocking chair—the sun on my skin—singing the songs of my ancestors without interruption, shall never come to pass,"
"Is there such thing as a lake made out of crystals?"
Akoni stopped rocking in his chair, placing a dark foot on the bamboo railing of his porch.
"Curious question, my little friend, why do you ask?"
"I saw a crystal lake, all sorts of colors—ones like the lights in the north you can see during the winter," Bonnie began, trying to remember the details, "they lit up from the bottom. The lake was large, on a mountain—I think—or in some valley. Something lit the lake in blue fire. I kept thinking it was Ash, but that's impossible right? What sort of lake has a crystal floor?"
Akoni just stared at her. Thousands of thoughts began swimming in his mind, he felt like a Remoraid wondering which current to take. He tried to keep his easy going countenance light on his face, but everything faltered. Solgaleo must have given her some vision.
"Is that where he is?"
"Where who is?"
"Ash—is that where you saw him?" Akoni asked, talking more to himself, but allowing Bonnie to add on to his internal conversation.
"Well, where is it exactly, and I'll tell you if I saw him or not," she bartered, knowing now that she had been on to something.
Akoni's head fell back in laughter. "I can't lie to you, my little friend, you are too cunning. And I like you, to some extent."
The Alolan stood up and stretched his dark body. "That lake you saw is actually in a remote mountain range called the Indigos. The name, of course, originating from the Indigo Plateau, from which the mountains stretch out. They make up the large, uninhabited barrier between Johto and Kanto—that grey nothingness. Of course, there isn't just nothing there—there are forests of dark beauty, lakes full of glacier water and precious stones. My theory is that explorers originally reported the region as desolate so as to keep the beauty of the Indigos a secret; one last natural beauty within a world of greed."
Bonnie gasped again, "that's where Ash has Serena! We need to go there—we need to go now!"
"Ah, well," Akoni smiled, "I have a mission to lead. I can't be taking detours at the Purehearted's expense, but…"
The Alolan looked at her.
"If a certain girl and her companion were to take that Pigeot sitting over there in the middle of camp, doing nothing of importance—and if that girl went without my knowledge," Akoni shrugged, "well, I couldn't stop her. I would just hope, that she would be very, very careful while she looks for a certain cabin hidden right in the center of the mountain range—on the mountain Okono, I believe."
With that, Bonnie took off. She ran back just for a moment, to wrap Akoni's waist in a small hug, and then left with sand kicking up behind her feet.
Akoni sighed and smiled after her. Only when she was out of sight did her begin to shake his head with wonder.
"Drifter is going to kill me."
But then the Alolan stopped. He looked over the ocean and the sun and the birds and began to grin again.
"Drifter doesn't have to know,"
Akoni then turned his back on the sea and headed towards the camp, whistling.
Drifter and Brock began their search in Johto, back to the camp in which they were ambushed. From above, flying on Drifter's Dragonite, the camp looked like smoldered charcoal; the remains of a fire, cold. As they drew closer, cutting through the first thin layer of clouds, they noticed dark figures moving in and around the camp. A dark haze of pokemon swarms could be seen expanding in every direction, thousands of them ready to march forward at any moment.
Drift yanked his dragon back up, hiding behind a thick flume of clouds. He turned to Brock and yelled over the wind.
"We're going to go right in the middle of that camp. Any movement towards Kanto will start here. There must be information we can gather."
Brock nodded in agreement and recovered his ears from the cold behind a dark hood.
Drifter ordered his Dragonite to use mist, veiling them all behind a thick fog. The Dragonite then spiraled straight down towards the ruins, it's mist following it down like a carpet being pulled over the earth. The pokemon targeted a break in the wave of troops and landed within an area of dark and dense forest, the pines shutting out most of the falling sunlight up ahead.
Sunset would come upon them soon. They needed to find a way to sneak in to the camp after dark and their opportunity came almost immediately upon their landing. Just as Drifter returned his Dragonite, two dark trainers, dressed all in black robes and a hood, appeared from within the thicket.
Drifter called upon a Gloom from the forest, ordering it to put the men to sleep with its powder and within seconds the trainers swayed back and forth and collapsed on the ground.
Brock and Drifter exchanged glances and assumed the same thought. They undressed the men and put on their attire, throwing the hoods over their faces.
"This was rather convenient," Brock muttered, "but I have no idea how these guys see anything with this thing on."
Drifter began leading them towards the ruined camp. "Do not say a word, do not look at anyone directly in the eye, stare at the floor—anything that will prevent them from noticing you," Drifter explained, "I can misdirect their attention from us, but the mirror will be broken if either of us speak. All you need to do is follow me."
Brock didn't quite understand, but he figured it was best to just listen.
The walk to the camp was a three-mile trek through difficult terrain, and by the time they approached the burned walls, wood half-eaten by ash, it was dark. They could see the fires of the enemy burning bright like meteors invading the stars. Brock could feel the sweat on his neck turn cold at the sound of Aerodactyl screeches, Tyrannitar roars, and men cursing at their pokemon and each other. His eyes were to low towards the ground, he bumped in to a solid cold figure.
He panicked and snapped his head up, only to see a sculpture made of stone. It was a man, and he was screaming. His rock mouth wide open in terror. He was holding up a sword, about to come down on his opponent with a lethal slash. Brock inhaled sharply when he noticed the man's uniform—a stone replica of the Purehearted attire, the badge distorted in the rock.
"Is this…?"
"Real?" Drifter pulled him back from the stone, "Yes. That man was once alive. The Dark Army like to take the dead and pose them and turn them in to stone as some sort of cruel trophy garden. Lunala wants to make it clear that he's been here, and the stone sculptures are a reminder for his grunts of what they've done, and what they will become if they turn treacherous. Lunala garners loyalty with fear. He is a master of the sort."
Brock couldn't help but stare. That man, his comrade, sat as a stone without rest. Brock clenched his fists and growled, trying to gulp down his own fear. He couldn't help but imagine his friends frozen in to rock; him pounding at their chests, trying to free them from their stalwart prison. Looking outward towards the fires, he could see the statues scattered all around the ruins, silhouettes against the burned buildings and forest trees; cold marble rising out of the ashes. Brock shuttered.
"Now is not the time to fear," Drifter said, his footsteps crunching the debris beneath, soot rising up from his boot like a dark cloud against the flickering orange lights beyond.
Brock pulled his hood back up over his face, and the two moved, like ghostly wraiths, in to the fires.
xxxxx
Gary whipped around from his fire where he sat with a number of other dark figures, silent as though in an obscure trance. They looked near death; pale, skin down to the bones, their eyes so far away they saw through space and in to darkness. When they spoke, only curses came out—oaths of revenge, love, or hate or everything and nothing. They moaned and would then fall back in to their comatose state.
Gary thought of robots, ones that only moved upon the wave of an order or mission. For now, they had nothing to do but stare at fires and fall in to memories. And they wouldn't eat, sleep, or speak unless it was at an image in their head.
Beyond screams, there were sobs.
They didn't keep good company. Gary often found himself shivering with disgust at the skeletal appearance, especially when they stared at him like zombies; looking past him in to another dimension or reality.
Gary growled and stood up from his place by the fire-pit. No one near him even twitched as he left, all of them lost. He hated all of this searching. He knew Ash couldn't hide from Lunala forever, but so far his searching has been in vain. Even Lunala didn't seem to know what was going on…Gary could sense the pokemon's frustration and anger as if it were consuming him, and whenever Gary asked whether they could just let Ash go, Lunala roars out curses and shoots him with immeasurable waves of pain. All Gary could do was whimper.
What if I were to lead them to Kanto? Gary thought, bitterly.
Another bolt of pain. It shot down his spine and Gary fell face down to the earth. He began to lose himself, to forget where and who he was and this terrified him. Each day, he felt more of his being melting away like an iceberg pooling in to dark waters, like blood against the saltiness of the sea. His memories were fading, his emotions grew wary, and even his anger and hate were turning in to fear and apathy.
You will search for Ash until he or you are dead. You are mine.
Gary cried out against the dirt. He crawled back to the fire and held back a sob. He felt his mind begin to buzz, a dark presence invading the floor of his subconscious. He couldn't think. He couldn't see. His eyes glazed over with shadows and he began to yell, fighting to regain his conscious. In his mind, Gary was gripping a mirror image of himself, trying to hold on, but his dark clone kept pulling away with a smirk. It drew his sword and plunged it in to Gary's chest. Gary couldn't even scream.
You are mine.
When Gary opened his eyes again, they were black.
Pewter City, Kanto
"I found it!" Tracy exclaimed, and then took a step back as he began to read the old book in his hand, "Or, I found something…"
"Didn't I tell you not to touch?" the professor grieved, prying the pages from Tracy's fingers.
The book was covered in dust. The spine seemed to be unraveling at the edges and the pages were damaged by humidity or water and faded from exposure to harsh light. However, Professor Oak could still read the faint imprint of a title on the leather binding.
The Legendaries of Creation:
Solgaleo, Lunala, & Arceus
"I've heard of Arceus," Misty muttered behind them, crossing her arms, "but who are the other two."
"We're about to find out aren't we?" Professor Oak opened the pages, and flipped past the introduction to the first chapter.
"1. The Cosmic Balance:
For the forces of nature to find homeostatic state, there must always be balance. The same could be said for the universe of the cosmos. For years, scientists have theorized many facts regarding the nature of the life cycle, especially since the discovery of Arceus, creator of the universe, and the pokemon and man within it. However, scientists have now begun to hypothesize two other entities involved in creation apart from Arceus, but working in tandem. Arceus created the universe, the firmaments, but it did not create light and darkness, nor life or death. In fact, these two realms, which have been shrouded in mystery for so long, can only be explained by the myths of the Pokemon Solgaleo and Lunala—names identified for the Sun and Moon by the ancient Alolans…"
"Fascinating," Oak trailed off, continuing to read aloud the second chapter:
"Solgaleo, a mythical lion-like beast, depicted on cavern walls to have a white body and the colors of the sun marked on its entity. It is said to have created light and life. It's breath alone can raise those from the dead. It had once been revered and worshipped by many ancient civilizations all around the world. The pokemon is said to be most involved with humanity as it is the author of free will and the human soul. The myth states that Solgaleo's breath gave humans and pokemon spirits, setting us apart from soulless creatures…"
"What does it say about the other guy?" Tracy asked, and Oak shot him an impatient glance.
"I'm getting there," the professor flipped forward.
"Lunala, a mythical bat-like creature, depicted on cavern walls to have the midnight body of a crescent moon. It is marked with the colors of darkness, and said to have created death and night. Its eyes can turn creatures to stone out of fear. It is a fallen beast, supposedly the product of jealousy. Before its fall, Lunala worked in tandem with Solgaleo, the author of life. However, the pokemon grew angry with humans for their tendency to worship only the Sun and the Stars. When humans fell away from worship of legendary pokemon all together, Lunala wanted to repossess them and take over the firmament. As the myth goes, this led him to betray Solgaleo and Arceus, and an imbalance of power ensued, causing a near extinction of the entire human race. Details are unclear. Dialga, Palkia, and Giratina were created to restore the cavity of power. However, the myth makes it clear that such a replacement was, and is, temporary. See prophetic scroll for more details on the myth. The rest of this book is devoted to the history of such findings."
"Of course," Misty sighed, "why must there always be a prophetic scroll involved? You would think everyone back then kept scrolls in their back pocket."
"We need to find it," Oak announced, flipping to the index to see if the scroll is given a name.
"Anything?" Tracy asked, and the old man nodded.
The professor looked down one of the halls and began pacing quickly down the corridor, the old book still open in his hand. His breath hitched up when he came to a shelf, filled only with ancient scrolls and loos papers. He let out a shaky sigh, knowing that it could take forever to filter through this mess.
"It looks ransacked," Misty observed, "do you think someone has been here?"
Professor Oak looked at her; she had a good point.
Just as he was about to respond, he noticed one single scroll tossed far from the shelf. He walked to it. He picked it up and examined the loose paper. He noticed that parts of it had been burned, and that a struggle took place for some of it was ripped at the edges.
Oak began to unravel it with the greatest care, and found that it was short, with most of it completely destroyed by fire. Only the beginning was in tact.
"And the Dark will return
as the night follows us all.
He will walk the earth and lure new souls in to his mouth
He will build up an army of darkness
He will turn the firmament to stone
He will se the face of the Sun and declare war anew
He will choose a servant from the light
He will choose a servant from the dark
He will seek to destroy—
[words too faded to read]
the death of one will bring life to all,
the chosen will choose sacrifice
and the sacrificed will breath life again.
Let the Sun come through his elect,
Let the elect die for the sake of the Sun
Let the elect die to bring the Sun to earth."
That night, when Serena had fallen asleep by the lake, Ash carried her back to the cabin until he gently placed her back in the bed. He had all the intention of letting her sleep, but she grabbed his hand before he could walk away. She weakly pulled him back to her, her blue eyes bright with moonlight and wide awake in the dark.
"Kiss me," she breathed, and guiding Ash's hand on to the nook of her neck, the gentle slope below her ear.
Ash shook his head, but did not pull away. His thumb drawing circles beneath her hair.
Serena pulled his face down, bringing her cheek, as soft as the petal of a flower, against his until her lips met his ear.
"Kiss me," she whispered again, and began tracing her mouth across his jaw. Her movements were tantalizing, and slow, and Ash lost himself in her once again.
He fell on to her.
His lips everywhere at once. He was the desert wander, and she was the water to his parched soul. Each kiss felt like a reconciliation—the darkness pooling out of him, draining his burden of shadows from the trellis of his teeth—and he felt as light as a bird, soaring above her lips.
He could feel himself smiling.
His heart felt so light he could laugh, and Serena didn't stop. She kissed the darkness away, taking it in to herself—a final communion.
Farther in to the night, he could feel the pieces of light break apart the dark in him; they were the shards of sunlight he had tried to suppress and forget that he owned—the same fragments she had given to him the first time. They returned now, more brilliant in strength, and Ash could not ignore them. They were the anchors that had prevented him from falling completely in to the night, and now she called them back out to break his chains.
And when the grip on his soul broke upon the moment of their reunion, when Serena took him in to her and loved the fear away, somewhere far off Lunala screamed.
We have reached the climax people. R&R