Special Episode 4 - Revise the Moment

Rotwood Fen was a cursed place.

The ground was covered in a thin, patchy layer of dark grass. Surrounding this grass was black mud, fungus, and grime, cold to the touch. Rocks were covered in mold and moss, various shades of gray and bluish-black, or some strange mixture of both. Bug Pokémon hid beneath the largest boulders, in little pockets of air and dirt, seeking shelter from the many feral predators that roamed the woods.

The trees were sparsely populated. Each one was no more than a foot in diameter—flimsy things that had few leaves. The bark flaked away to the touch, and had a fuzzy, soft texture on the surface. It wouldn't take much to push one of these damp, decaying structures to the ground. The roots were gnarled and twisted through the dirt like tentacles. Some of the trees had scraggly, vine-like, yet wooden accents to the trunk that wrapped around the main bark like Tangela or the limbs of a Carnivine.

Two Pokémon walked through this dying forest. One was an Alakazam, holding his two spoons in one hand, and a strange, square device in another. The device had a minimalistic interface, with a few numbers in the top corner that slowly decreased as they moved, and a dot near the top of the screen that moved closer to the center.

The second Pokémon was huddled behind Nevren—a small Chikorita, nervously avoiding any of the trees. She saw herself in them, and what this forest could do to plants. Would she rot away in a place like this? If she wasn't careful, she'd end up becoming some wild Pokémon's next meal. And then what?

"D-Dad," she said.

"Yes, Mispy?" Nevren asked, looking back.

She gulped. "I—I don't… like this place."

"Ahh, I understand. Not to worry. As long as you are with me, we will be perfectly safe."

"Why couldn't Demitri…?"

"I only needed you, Mispy, for the purpose of healing," Nevren said. "The others are still training. You want to evolve, after all, yes? And healing is a great way to practice your special abilities."

"Mnn." Mispy sniffed. "It's scary…"

"I understand," Nevren said. "Granted, we are a small team. Just the two of us. And you're quite used to cooperating with the other three. But ever since you fused together and lost your minds, well—" Nevren realized too late that he'd slipped.

"H-huh?" Mispy's head jerked up. "What… what d...? I—I fused? What does…?! I don't remember… I don't…" Mispy's wide eyes became even wider. Her leaf trembled—memories came flooding back. "A… Aaaa…! AAAAAHH!"

Nevren dropped his spoons to the ground and slipped the now-free hand into the bag slung around his neck. He grabbed a small, blue device with a circular, bright emblem in the middle, and clicked on the center button.

The world was dark for less than a blink. And then, the world returned to normal. Nevren was walking forward. Mispy was walking behind him. Nevren scanned his location and made sure to not lose his rhythmic steps. The tree that they had passed moments ago was ahead of him again.

"D-Dad," Mispy spoke up.

"Yes, Mispy?" Nevren asked, looking back at the Chikorita.

She gulped. "I—I don't… like this place."

"Ahh, I understand," Nevren said. "Not to worry. As long as you are with me, we will be perfectly safe." Nevren didn't pause this time. "I imagine you want Demitri and the others here, but they're still training. Your healing will be invaluable on this outing."

"Oh," Mispy said. "O-okay…"

Nevren nodded. "Very good, then. Let's continue."

They continued their walk through Rotwood. The trees were starting to get a bit denser, but they were no less rotten. The sky was darkening rapidly, and Nevren suddenly stopped his walking when he sensed a change in the atmosphere. "Mispy," he said, "you should stay close to me, yes?"

"H-huh?"

Nevren turned around. Just as he thought. Behind him was a great expanse of repeating trees and mossy rocks. Not the same trees that they had just passed. The entire world around them had shifted and changed, and he could already feel the mystical effects take place through his body.

"We entered a distortion. It seems that we can only advance to our destination by completing it."

"Distortion? But…!"

"There is no need to worry." Nevren raised a spoon. "Remember. The greatest danger of a distortion is getting lost. The next greatest danger is being defeated in one, losing contact with the rest of your team." He inspected the distortion. "It seems that the Divine Dragon already blessed this place, since it seems to have its typical, labyrinthine arrangement instead of something more unpredictable. That's a good start." He turned and advanced through the paths. "Being defeated in a distortion, or rather, a Dungeon, will cause you to be rejected from it. You will be away from whatever danger caused you those injuries, but anything that you brought with you, now belongs to the Dungeon. But, more concerning—" he looked back, "—is that you will still be weak. Assuming you do not succumb to the strain to begin with, many predators live at the entrance to Dungeons for this reason, preying on the defeated. While you escaped your captor, what happens afterward is… less than desirable. You must be careful to not fall victim to these opportunistic inhabitants."

Mispy sniffed, but suddenly stopped. "L-let's go back," she said. "I—I don't…! I don't want to—" She sniffled again. "Die…! B-be… eaten…!" Her red eyes filled with tears.

"There's no need to cry," Nevren said. "Come. There is no way out of a Dungeon once you enter it, but to go forward. Perhaps it won't be very long."

With Nevren's back turned toward Mispy, he continued. Mispy timidly followed in a light gallop, trying to keep up. She tripped over a root and squeaked in surprise. Nevren stopped again. "Mispy, you shouldn't—"

When Nevren turned around, he spotted a small tree moving. No, not a tree. Between gaps in its wooden armor was a black mass that made up its core; false leaves covered its large hands and head, and a single, great, red eye stared Mispy down. At first, Nevren thought it was a Trevenant, but something was different about it. No, that was just his eyes playing tricks on him. Surely it was just some feral Trevenant.

With a single strike, dark claws slashed through Mispy's body, tearing her plant-like flesh, straight to the bone. She cried out and collapsed, and a second claw through her back finished it. Her mangled body disappeared from the Dungeon.

Nevren stared dumbly. He didn't have time to react. A second Shadow Claw went right along his chest—a splitting, yet numbing pain coursed through him. He saw red gush from his body, and the second Shadow Claw going straight for his skull. The shadowy fog wasn't the normal Ghostly sort. It felt worse.

The next thing he knew, Nevren was lying on the ground, a horrible pain gnawing at his chest. He must have been rejected from the Dungeon, but—he was too weak to move. His head felt light. But he forced himself to open his eyes. He saw a swift motion against his chest—a Mightyena, with its black fur and sharp teeth, was tearing away at him. He couldn't gasp. His lungs were filled with blood—and the realization of what was happening doubled his pain. His arm twitched, and he attempted a reflexive Psychic attack on the Pokémon. Nothing. He should have expected as much. He turned his head, searching for Mispy. She'd be here, too. The Mightyena crunched down; a gurgling gasp escaped Nevren's throat.

His vision was blurry, but he saw something green and red crumpled up a few paces away, motionless. More dark shapes surrounded this figure, shuffling around.

"Distortion? But…!"

Nevren jolted where he stood, losing his rhythm. He blinked a few times and held his chest. Nothing. He looked around to gather his surroundings. He had just entered the Dungeon. Mispy was behind him. His heart rate picked up, and he slowly clenched his fist. One breath was all he needed to steady himself.

"There is no need to worry," Nevren said, remembering his own words. "Remember. The greatest danger of a distortion, that is, a Dungeon, is getting lost. And—" Nevren hesitated. "For that reason, you should stay close to me. Understood?"

"Y-yes! Okay," Mispy said, trailing off.

"For example," Nevren said, and then his eyes flashed with energy at a nearby tree. It screeched and wailed; its body twisted into a spiral, splitting apart at the wood. And then, it vanished from view. Unsettlingly, more of that black mist remained where it had once been. Was that a wraith? But this place is blessed… Isn't it?

"That was a Trevenant," Nevren lied. "Quite territorial, if I had to guess. But it can't hurt us anymore."

"Oh…!" Mispy beamed. "Dad! You're," she paused to find the right words, "so cool!"

Nevren chuckled. "Come, Mispy. Let me hold you for this Dungeon."

She happily complied, jumping into his arms. The Alakazam made sure that she was in one piece, the blurry vision of her mangled body still fresh in his mind. Nevren held her a bit tighter.

He looked into his bag, staring at the cyan device. The dot in the middle was gray, and he slowed down, scanning his surroundings. It was still the same, dreary atmosphere of endless, repeating walls of gray mud and black trees. He stopped walking, and Mispy looked up at him, confused.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Nevren stared at the device. A few seconds passed, and the gray dot brightened again. "Nothing," he said. "I was just waiting for my device to start again. It helps with Dungeons. A bit of a good luck charm."

"Oh!" Mispy nodded. "Okay."

Nevren gently inspected that cyan device again.

Mispy shifted uncomfortably in his hold and leaned against his left arm. "Weird."

"Hm? What was that?"

"Dream," she said slowly.

"A dream? Of what?"

Mispy trembled, shaking her head. "S-scary."

Nevren looked down at Mispy briefly, then at his device. Then, back at Mispy. He gently rubbed at her head, wrapping his fingers around the base of the leaf atop her skull. "There's nothing to worry about, Mispy," he said, and sent a subtle, weak energy into her. "Now, what were you talking about?"

"Hm?" Mispy asked, looking up. "Talking about what?"

"You were dreaming. Do you remember?"

"Dreaming?"

"Ah. I must have misheard." Nevren nodded. He looked forward again. "Ah, look, Mispy. Do you see that?"

It was subtle, but the passageway ahead of them had an odd distortion of light through it, like thick, rippling water. Unless one was paying close attention, it would go completely unnoticed. It took Mispy twenty seconds to see what he was talking about.

"Oh! Water? In the air?"

"Not quite. That is a passageway into the next section of the Dungeon. Watch." He stepped into the distortion. The world around them blurred, and the trees rearranged themselves in a blink.

He was also surrounded by five Pokémon in a small, cramped space. Mispy yelped in surprise and flailed helplessly in Nevren's arms; he couldn't react in time and felt another rotten claw slash through his spine. He lost feeling in his legs instantly. He immediately searched for the device to try again, but then saw a sphere of black energy hurtling toward him. He raised his arm reflexively to block it. It seemed like Shadow Ball, but the way it reacted to his body was anything but. Almost instantly, the black energy exploded, the mist sealed inside wrapping around his arm. It infested it down to the very marrow, rotting it from the inside-out. He hissed and tried to use it to grab his device again, but the Shadow Ball did its work perfectly—he couldn't use that arm if he tried. He desperately used his other arm, dropping his spoons and Mispy in the process. She squeaked, and he hit the button.

Nevren stood still, staring at the passageway. The little distortion in space beckoned for him to enter. He steadied his breath and looked down at Mispy; she was squinting at the oddly refracted light.

"Oh! Water? In the air?"

"Not quite," Nevren said. "That is a passageway into the next section of the distortion. However." He closed his eyes. "I am having a, hrm, Psychic premonition about this passageway. We need to be ready for anything, Mispy. I would like you to prepare yourself. Once we pass through, I want you to perform two of your techniques, yes? A Reflect, and then a Light Screen. I will handle the rest."

Mispy whined, nuzzling against Nevren's chest.

"It will be fine. I will protect you if you protect me."

They stepped through. Instantly, Mispy waved her leaf in the air, making a psychic barrier around the two of them; Nevren deftly stepped forward and spun around, twisting the air around the Pokémon that intended to claw him in the back. It was turned to ghostly wood chips. Mispy waved her leaf again, screaming; a second barrier reinforced the first, significantly weakening the explosive wad of darkness that hit Nevren on his back.

He felt the rotting pain, but he could work it off. He turned around and warped the air again, splintering that one next. The three remaining Pokémon rushed at him, tree root legs flailing against the dirt. They left angry gashes wherever they moved. Nevren had to improvise. He focused and held Mispy tight. With a wash of psychic light, the two of them vanished, reappearing inconveniently only a few paces from where he had started.

"Ngh—just my luck, I suppose," Nevren said. But it bought Mispy enough channel a warm, healing energy to Nevren, ridding him of the injury on his back. Rejuvenated, he dispatched of the third Pokémon next, leaving just two more to deal with. Mispy puffed out her cheeks at the aggressors.

"M-my turn!" she said, and her leaf lit up. A powerful beam of light—even in the dim sunlight that this cursed forest provided—seared through one of the remaining Pokémon, completely incinerating it. It died so quickly that the Dungeon didn't even eject its carcass. The remaining wilds stared at the smoldering mass before them. Flaming pieces of wood crackled on the dirt, becoming one with the ash. The remaining one turned around and fled.

"Kill it," Mispy hissed.

"If you wish," Nevren said, and held his arm forward. In a twisted sense of revenge, Nevren generated a similar ball of rotting energy from his palm, chasing the final Trevanant. The black sphere engulfed it, and Nevren watched its body darken with a scream. The Ghostly blast split its wooden body apart with surprising ease. Within, the black mass remained for longer than its armor, but it was too badly damaged. The wraith evaporated.

Mispy huffed. "Evil."

"Territorial is more accurate. But perhaps it is for the best," Nevren said. "That one may have requested backup from others like it. We couldn't allow that. Now." Nevren checked his bag. The button was alight. "That was very good, Mispy. Let's continue."

Nevren had to be careful. He checked at his device again. They had two close calls and one verbal slip-up already. He was beginning to suspect he was getting reckless. It was tiresome, trying again and again. But he had a feeling that he was going to have to use that button quite a lot more once they got through this perilous, dreary place. Particularly if there are wraiths here. Why here? The Divine Dragon should have been right at the core of this place, if what Hecto said was true.

Mispy's leaf twitched, brushing against his chest

"Are you okay, Mispy?" Nevren asked. "Do you see any strange auras? Your sense is quite a bit stronger than mine."

"Mn, no," Mispy said. "It's… hard."

"Yes, Dungeons tend to do that," he said. "With the warping of space and time within these fields, well, even your sense of aura is going to be somewhat distorted. Particularly beyond each section." He pointed at the next distortion. "Get ready, Mispy. The same as before, just in case, yes?"

"Do you have a… premonition?"

"Not this time, but it doesn't hurt to be careful."

He passed through the section barrier and then quickly turned around. Nobody. He checked behind him again, where he had been facing. Nobody. But he still refused to move, listening for any sign of movement, any marking of an ambush waiting to happen. But, there was nothing. Mispy couldn't detect anything, either.

He sighed slowly. "Very good. As I expected, there is nothing here to worry about, Mispy. We will continue."

To their fortune, the worst of the Dungeon was actually near the beginning, where they had been ambushed and killed—though only Nevren remembered. He held Mispy a bit tighter again, pressing her back against his chest.

Mispy tilted her head up, tapping her leaf against his neck. "It's okay."

"A-ah? Ah. Yes, I'm just fine, Mispy." He looked down. "Be on your guard. There could be an ambush around any corner in a place like this. The ferals are quite territorial, it seems." He eyed a suspicious tree. Hoping to conserve his energy for more important battles, he held his hand out and said, "Close your eyes, Mispy."

She obeyed immediately, and a bright, blinding flash of light pounded into the tree. A strange force accompanied it, like little pinpricks of needles—the tree shrieked and twisted in agony, crumpling to the ground. But he held back to verify something. After the tree's armor was split apart, what was left behind was a black, angry, featureless blob that radiated a strange, black mist "Hmph, of course," he said. He twisted it with a Psychic, destroying it completely. That confirms it. This place is infested with wraiths.

Mispy blinked a few times, adjusting to the residual light. "Dazzling…?"

"Yes. It's quite handy, don't you agree?"

"How'd you know?"

"Perhaps I was a bit paranoid. I don't trust the trees here any longer." He continued through the corridors, noting that the mud of the Rotwood Fen was getting simultaneously thinner and deeper. They were nearing marshlands of some kind.

"And how are you feeling?" Nevren asked.

"I'm… okay."

"Very good."

Between the thickening black fog, the darkening sky, and the general distortions that accompanied such an exploration, Nevren had no idea how much time had actually passed since his entry into the Rotwood Fen Dungeon. He did know, however, that Mispy had fallen asleep in his arms after a few more segments, and he did his best to fight the remaining Pokémon quietly. Every so often, she was startled awake by a shriek, and Nevren had to make a second attempt at the same moment a few times the further he went. The worst was when a Haunter had paralyzed him from behind with a single brush of its tongue, and he could only watch helplessly as it dug its claws into him afterward. That one wasn't even a wraith; that was indeed just a feral. He was glad only he would remember the mishaps.

Frankly, he couldn't wait until this was over, but he still had a small section left to go. He saw, far ahead, the powerful distortion associated with a Dungeon's end. And it was in this final section that Nevren stopped his walking, and instead started sloshing through the ground. The water, by now, was waist-deep for the Alakazam, and Mispy migrated from his arms to the top of his head, wrapping her vines around his chest to stay secure.

"Bad," Mispy said softly.

"Yes, quite bad," Nevren said. "I do hope there isn't anything crawling through this water. It's quite murky. I may need to bathe for an entire day."

Mispy hummed, pressing her cheek against Nevren's mustache.

"Ah, Mispy. I do have a bit of an injury near my shoulder from that Haunter's strike. Would you mind?"

"Oh—okay." Mispy closed her eyes, channeling a bit of healing energy into him.

The pain eased itself away. Bruises faded, and only a dull tingling remained. He sighed softly. "Very good."

But that didn't rid them of the ominous fog that polluted the atmosphere. It obscured their vision; there was no escaping its omnipresence. Mispy moaned quietly and covered her face with her leaf, coughing into it. But it wasn't smoke, and her breathing didn't push the fog away. It was a strange, ethereal vapor that didn't follow the wind. It merely floated around them, sinking into and through their skin, through their very auras.

"Ngh. This is certainly the work of the Ghost Orb," said Nevren to himself. "Mispy, do not worry. The smoke may feel strange, but it will not suffocate you. It is… This is something else."

Nevren stared at his hand worriedly. It wouldn't suffocate them, but he could feel something influencing his body. His hand was darkening. Patches along his arm looked like what had happened when that Shadow Ball hit it. Something occurred to him and he immediately reached up for Mispy, pulling her down.

"Dad?" Mispy asked. Her voice was labored and slow.

Mispy was green as ever. Her leaf seemed a bit wilted, and her eyes were lethargic. But then he saw it—little patches of rot along her right side, first. And then her left.

"Mispy, you must focus," Nevren said.

"Huh?" Mispy said weakly.

"Focus, Mispy," Nevren said. "Your healing aura. You must use it on both of us. Mispy? Mispy?" He shook her lightly. Her head bobbed limply.

Nevren tasted something metallic. He brought a hand up to his mouth, but then jerked it away. His hand was black and brown. He didn't even feel it. The skin was falling off. He spat—blood. He looked at Mispy again. Her eyes stared forward without aim.

Nevren dropped the dead Chikorita into the muck and dug into his bag. He slammed a rotten finger on the cyan button.

"Ngh—" Nevren stopped walking. Mispy squeaked, tipping forward atop his head.

"D-Dad?" Mispy asked.

"Ah—I'm sorry, Mispy. I had a horrible premonition," Nevren said. "You must use your healing aura at all times from here on. Is that understood?"

"All the time?" Mispy said with a whine.

"Yes. Can you do this?"

Mispy grumbled tiredly, but nodded. "Okay."

Nevren glanced at his arm. The black patches were already forming. But then he felt the energy radiate from Mispy, coursing through him. The patches faded.

He sighed. "That's very good, Mispy. Keep this up while we go through this area. This fog is not normal. It's made of some strange, rotting energy. We must be careful when we approach, as it will only get thicker. Warn me if your energy is weakening."

The wraiths did something similar, but the Ghost Orb was enhancing it somehow. Could that be it?

"Okay."

They continued. Nevren attempted to float above the muck, but his Psychic powers were being suppressed by the fog, too. He had to go on foot. His bag dragged behind him, but he made sure that nothing emptied from it—particularly, his device. If he could just revise the moment, he'd be fine. He just hoped that a moment was enough time.

They continued through. The fog thickened significantly. Nevren could barely see a few paces in front of him, and Mispy was starting to grow nervous. "Wh-what's that?" she asked, strained.

"The end of the Dungeon. We're quite close. Do you see that distortion? It's a bit different than the others, because the other side is clearer, and the ripples are a bit stronger. That is the indicator that we are at the end of the Dungeon—or, perhaps," Nevren trailed off. "Alternatively, it could simply be a pocket between the Dungeons' sections. If that's the case…" He sighed. "Then perhaps this will be more difficult than I thought."

Nevren made a few strong steps to escape from the pond. The mud sloshed behind him, and his bag bumped heavily against his back. That bag was going to be burned when they got out of this place. He didn't want to look down to know the condition of his mustache, but its newfound weight told the whole story.

He passed through the distortion of light, and Mispy's heart sank.

"No," Mispy moaned.

It was a clearing that lacked trees except for a single one in the middle. The clearing itself had a rippling bubble around it. Trees were beyond this barrier on all sides, but Nevren knew those were nothing but a backdrop as far as they were concerned. This small pocket of stability was no more than twenty paces across.

"Yes, indeed," Nevren said. "Unfortunately, this is only a pocket. There is perhaps one more part of this Dungeon to go through." He sighed to himself, gently rubbing at the stem of Mispy's leaf. "A shame. But we can at least rest." He looked around. "The fog is weak here. You may relax your healing and recover."

Mispy sighed and collapsed; Nevren caught her gently and leaned against the centerpiece of this stable zone, a large tree—after checking that it wasn't another wraith. There, she pressed softly against his chest again.

Nevren took the time to clean the left half of his mustache first. Psychic waves squeezed at it, cleaning as much of the cursed mud off as he could. Then, he moved on to the left, until he was satisfied enough with its shade. It was browner than he would have liked. He then tried, to no avail, to clean his bag with the same methods. Unfortunately, the mud was deep inside its fibers. It wasn't coming out. Lost cause.

Mispy tilted her head up. "Why are we here?" she finally asked, as if this question had been eating at her the whole way.

"For the Ghost vessel," said Nevren.

"The… what?"

Nevren nodded. "The Ghost vessel. A few days ago, Hecto gave word that this cursed place was visited by a Goodra and a team of other Pokémon. This is actually a very important Goodra, and we feared that he might not have even made it through the whole way. This happens quite often, and we rarely see anybody return upon entering. The Goodra went in with an entire squad… so I wonder what their fates were."

"That Goodra never returned, indeed, but Hecto was able to observe that the Ghost Orb itself had been claimed, somehow. This Dungeon had become blessed. Incredible! I do not know what special talent this Goodra has beyond being a Divine Dragon, but it was enough to tame the Orb. That being said…" He eyed the surrounding area. "I can't quite say the same thing about the surrounding area. It is still plagued by the rotting aura."

"Mm," Mispy trailed off. "Rot…"

"Yes. But it's safe here, at least." He dug through his bag and pulled out an apple, inspecting it carefully. It seemed slightly rotten on one side; with a precise, psychic motion, the apple split, and he discarded the blackened half. "Here," he said, offering the half to Mispy.

She gratefully took it, chomping ravenously. Nevren dug through the bag and pulled out a few berries. Most seemed rotten, and he had to discard them, but a few were miraculously preserved. "Here you go, as well."

"Don't you," Mispy said between bites, "need to eat, too?"

"Ah, I will last," Nevren said.

Mispy paused if only to ask another question. "Star's… blessing?"

"Well, it doesn't make it so I don't have to eat at all," he said, "but, I shall last, yes." Just then, his stomach let out a horrible rumble, and he was tempted to revise that moment to spare himself the biological contradiction.

Mispy giggled, finishing the second berry. She then brought a vine over the final berry and offered it back to Nevren—a simple Oran Berry to fill his stomach, at least a small amount.

"Ah, there's really no need," he said, pushing the vine away gently. "You need the healing energy more than I do."

"I'm full," Mispy said.

"I know when you're lying."

"Just eat," Mispy said, tossing it to him.

He caught it in his spoon, sighing. "Very well." He flicked the spoon upward, tossing the berry right into his mouth with precise aim. He relished the taste, breathing a small sigh through his nostrils.

Mispy giggled again, butting her head against his side. "Thank you."

Nevren looked at Mispy, puzzled. "Hm? For what?"

Mispy looked up at his star-shaped face, tilting her head. "I don't know."

"Hm." Nevren looked past a gap in the dead trees. "Well. Thank you, as well."

Mispy unsheathed her vines again, fiddling with them to pass the time. Nevren could tell that she was feeling better, but he gave her a bit more time to relax in this moment of calm. Then, she looked up at him again, and Nevren readied himself for her next question.

"How come we're here? For the Ghost Orb?"

"The Ghost Orb? Well. Up until now, it was the only Orb that we were aware of. And we need to gather those Orbs together, yes? For Star's sake."

"Mm," Mispy nodded, though she still seemed confused.

"Is something wrong?" Nevren asked.

"How come… Star can't get them?" Mispy asked.

"Ahh, that is the question, isn't it?" he said. "A number of factors prevent Star from gathering these herself. The first being that she simply isn't strong enough."

"S-Star? Not strong?"

Nevren shook his head. "She has power, but she doesn't have the will to use it. She is a divine entity, Mispy. They operate in a slightly different way than we do, when it comes to their ability to unleash their power. And that power is limited further when they take on a physical form."

"Oh," Mispy said. "Physical. As in…"

"As in, with a body, in the world we live in. Star is alive in a literal sense. By Arceus' own design, gods cannot overpower mortals when in their own domain so easily. She is strong, but perhaps not strong enough to take this on." He waved his arm ahead at the fog of rot that seeped from the distorted light. "So, physically obtaining the Orbs is something she is not able to do. So, why not attempt to claim it from the spirit world?"

"Spirit?"

Nevren nodded. "The Orbs have a corresponding Core within the spirit world. They are a connection between the world of the living and the edge of the world of the dead."

Mispy's vacant eyes suggested she understood about half of what he said.

Nevren hid a pang of irritation. "That is to say," he went on, "It is a special realm, adjacent to the spirit world. Like a neighbor of the real world. A place between our world and the next. What little divine energy is within them is enough to go just far enough to make that connection."

"Divine energy," Mispy repeated, humming. "Weird."

"Very weird, yes."

"What is it?"

"Ah," Nevren said. "Well. They are fragments of Arceus' original, full power. When reality was created by his thousand arms, Arceus possessed full dominion and power over it. Early on, he created the upper pantheon—including Star. There's something special about Star, and I'm not quite sure what it is, but he values her above all else. And she was likely the creative force behind, well, nearly all the species common to our lives." Nevren looked up. "By my current educated guess, each of these Orbs contain twenty of those arms that Barky once used to shape the universe."

"Twenty?" Mispy said, poking little holes in the mud with her tiny claws to count. "Grass… Fire… Water… Ghost…" she listed quietly.

Nevren smiled slightly. "There are just under 400 of Arceus' original, divine hands within the Orbs in total. Just over a third. Star possesses a little less than a third, and Arceus retains the rest. And..." Nevren held out his hand, palm toward the sky. A single, thin filament of white light emerged, swaying in the air to invisible currents, "I, as well as the other Divine Dragons, possess a single one."

Mispy stared at this filament, wide-eyed. "Wow," she said in a soft whisper. She brought a vine out and tentatively prodded it. It felt like nothing, yet she could still feel its presence. It felt warm, but not to her body. "But, if you have one, and the Goodra has more…"

Nevren shook his head. "It's not quite that simple. More of these does not mean more power. Not directly."

Mispy tilted her head.

"In fact, in a small sense, every creature has a small amount of this same divine influence in them. Consider it the original blessing of Arceus, passed onto the rest of the world. The aura, and the enhancements they provide to the body, and the many techniques that Pokémon can learn." Nevren stroked his mustache thoughtfully. "Yes, that ties all to the aura. Possessing a Hand merely gives you a bit more of that influence, and lets you expand it further, warping and seizing reality just a bit more firmly."

"Reality?" Mispy said.

"Hmm," Nevren considered this. "Essentially, it makes it easier for you to change the world, at least in a small sense. For example, with a bit of focus…" Nevren stared carefully at a rock. He reached out and picked it up, and then gently tossed it. He held his hand out and squinted, and the rock stopped falling, frozen in time. And then, after a second of that freeze, it resumed its fall. "Things like that can be done. I have been imbuing some of that divine energy into the technology I make. Delayed teleportation is another. I hope to imbue that power in little items, perhaps badges, or buttons, that one can carry around for emergencies…"

Mispy yawned. "Okay."

"A-ah, is this boring you?" Nevren asked.

"No, um, I just know."

Indeed, this was the third time that Nevren had talked about his badges and his theories. He hoped that Mispy was at least slightly interested in how he was able to do it.

"In—in any case, divine energy is infinite in supply, but finite in output. You need to build it up in order to utilize it properly, and even then, you must practice in how rapidly it can be released, and how much you can store. More Hands simply means you can generate more of that power at a faster rate, to an extent."

"Power to… change reality."

"Yes," Nevren said. "To an extent. I do wish I had a few more Hands at my disposal. With enough power, you can consistently ignore gravity, and enhance your attacks considerably, to name a few techniques, and your sphere of influence expands quite a bit as well. The most immediate example being," he pointed at the fog, "this rotting smoke. It is certainly the influence of the Ghost Orb's reality-warping properties, honed and mastered for, perhaps, centuries."

Mispy stared uneasily at the black mist. What a horrible place. She should have been home, eating food and sleeping with Demitri. Instead she was here, where it was cold, and wet, and dark. No place for a little Chikorita like herself! She needed the sun. "Can you cancel it out?" Mispy asked.

"Theoretically," Nevren said. "But I'm not nearly strong enough to cancel the influence of another set of Hands. Not yet." He slowly stood up. "I'm hoping to use sense and words with this new vessel instead to gain their favor. We can take the Orb from him, or we can negotiate an alliance of sorts. I will use my premonition to determine which would be best. Are you ready, Mispy?"

"Mhm." Mispy wrapped her vines around Nevren's shoulders. She hauled herself up and settled atop him again, resting between the star-shaped horns that jutted diagonally from his head.


The first thing that Nevren noticed upon entering the next series in the Dungeon was how thick the fog had suddenly become. Nevren worried that he would float in it if he wasn't careful. Mispy was channeling her healing energy as quickly as she could, but even then, he felt a dull, bruise-like pain all throughout his lower body. He just didn't have the stamina to deal with something like this on his own. Perhaps someone stronger, like Eon himself, would have withstood such a horrible rot, but he and Mispy were too delicate in their current states.

What a shame that she is a mere Chikorita, Nevren thought to himself. If she hadn't destabilized upon fusing with the others, perhaps this entire trip would have been trivialized.

But that was the past. Too far in the past to revise. The process they used to fuse together lasted longer than a moment—and, therefore, once he realized what was going wrong, he had no way to stop it from happening. And for the same reason, he had to be extremely cautious about this fog. If it irreversibly affected him for longer than his ability to revise, he would be finished.

He glanced above him, seeing Mispy's vines dangling idly. "Are you doing well, Mispy?"

"Mhm," Mispy said. "The fog isn't up here."

"Ah," Nevren said. "You're right. Be careful of your vines."

"Oh." Mispy jerked them upward.

The lack of creatures here unnerved him. Not a single Pokémon remained in this strange place. Perhaps the fog itself was so corrosive that even the wild Pokémon could not survive within it, not even the Ghosts themselves. But what about the wraiths? Surely they would have been swarming in an environment like this. Perhaps his theories were incorrect, and this was exclusively the Ghost Orb's power.

That still didn't explain the presence of wraiths to begin with.

But then, he sensed another break in the Dungeon. "What is…?"

"Distortion," Mispy said, pointing at the light. It was strong, indicative of the end of a Dungeon's influence.

"Yes, indeed. But I did not expect this place to be so… short. I was ready for an entirely new half—but that is certainly the exit. Let's go." He had his hand on his cyan emblem and passed through the section.

Mispy gagged and covered her mouth with her vines. Nevren's eyes watered and the whiskers of his mustache twitched violently when his face wrinkled. The smell was impossible for Nevren to describe. The smell of death. Cold death that lasted for years. Sour rot and salty remnant.

Sitting in the middle of the exit, in a clearing surrounded by a lake of black mud, was the decaying remains of some large, slimy dragon. The once vibrant, purple form was blackened like the sludge that surrounded it. Pieces of its body were lying near the main lump and its head was crooked back, mouth agape. Its thick tongue lolled out of the mouth, part of it already rotted away. Its eye sockets were empty, black holes that oozed some strange, brown-purple fluid.

He and Mispy could only stare at the sight for a full minute. "Awful," Mispy said. "He's… he's dead."

"A sad fate indeed." Nevren nodded. This was what the Divine Dragon was reduced to by the Ghost Orb. In the end, they still had bodies, and bodies could decay. Still, seeing someone as holy as him reduced to a carcass… it was a sobering thought. Madeline… I'm sorry that this had to happen to your son. I hope you are together with him at last.

Nevren cleared his throat, shaking the thoughts away. "Mispy, can you sense any auras? We are outside of the Dungeon, now."

"Oh—" Mispy nodded. "Okay."

"There's a high likelihood that the Ghost Orb is still within his body. I'll have to dig through it. It is perhaps the least hygienic thing to do, but it must be done." He tried to float above the muck, but the strange aura of the Ghost Orb persisted. He couldn't levitate here, either, without strain. He elected to descend the old-fashioned way. It wasn't very far. If the ground had been solid, the distance from the mud's edge to its center was only four of his paces.

"Keep me healed, Mispy, just in case," Nevren said.

"Okay." Mispy kept her vines wrapped around his chest for leverage. She couldn't take her eyes off the Goodra, even as they got closer.

Nevren waded through the sludge, and immediately realized that its consistency was thicker than usual. It was mud, yes, and rocks and decomposing plant matter. But it was also mixed with the natural slime that the Goodra species secreted, forming a mass so viscous that he could barely slog through it upon entry. It was like honey. The smell was even stronger here. It would take a week, without stopping, of washing to get rid of the grime from every corner of his body that descended into the pit.

And there he was, face-to-rotten-face with the decaying Goodra. Nevren figured that the Ghost Orb would be in the chest cavity, at the center of mass. He carefully moved forward, pressing his hand against the chest of the carcass. It had a lot of give.

He figured that Madeline would have preferred a prayer or a burial, but it wasn't as if she was alive to see this. He had an Orb to recover; perhaps, if they had the time, they could bury his body after they got what they needed.

He pressed a bit further in, and the flesh tore away on both sides. The ribcage was far gone; he only had to pull away at a few of the—

The dead Goodra's hand spasmed and snapped forward, holding Nevren's outstretched arm. For a split-second, Nevren had never felt so frightened in his life. Time stopped in his mind.

"Aaauuuu…" the Goodra moaned, and its head tilted forward with a deep, horrible cracking noise, twitching with each snapping vertebra. Nevren jerked his hand away, tearing the Goodra's hand off from the sudden movement. Mispy screamed and let go of Nevren. She violently lashed her vines toward the Goodra's upper body. With a single motion, she smacked the Goodra's head clean off. It rolled to the side, sinking into the mud.

Mispy kept screaming, but Nevren reached up and held her. "Mispy! Mispy, it's okay," Nevren said. "It's okay—y-you knocked its head off, yes? It can't—"

The Goodra's body moved on its own. Nevren took in a sharp breath and doubled back, wading through the mud. He was done. This was too much. He did not agree to this sort of horror.

The thing had a much easier time wading through the viscous mass, as if it flowed around him by his will. The headless Goodra with the exposed chest waded through the swamp blindly; it was hunched over, feeling through the sludge with its tiny arms. Nevren was completely out of the slime by now, just about ready to teleport away from this place, no matter where his attempt at teleporting would take him. Anywhere but here, in this surreal, undead presence.

"I want to wake up!" Mispy whimpered. "P-please!"

"I'm afraid this isn't a dream, Mispy."

The Goodra pulled from the swamp its own head and slapped it onto its exposed neck. It was on backwards, the feelers twitching in front. It grabbed itself by the cheeks and rotated. The bones popped into place with a dull thud. Then, he stared at Nevren with those empty, oozing eye sockets.

"H… huuu… huuooo…" the dead thing said.

Mispy's little buds started to glow. Nevren held his hand on her neck. "It's okay," he said. "Hang on."

Mispy hopped off of Nevren's head and landed behind him, hiding behind his legs.

"H—huu… hullooo…" the Goodra said.

Nevren gulped. "Y-yes, er, hello," he said. It was sapient? Nevren looked at Mispy again. "Does it have an aura, Mispy?"

But she was too frazzled to sense anything. And then again, if it had the Ghost Orb within its being, its aura would look strange anyway. There was no telling—

"Who are you?" the Goodra asked, sloshing forward through the slime. Every word that he said was extended in a long moan, every vowel taking much longer to pronounce than it should have. "I'm sorry," he said slowly. "This body feels weird." The slow pace of his words were agonizing.

"A-ah, so you are struggling to speak, because your body is not cooperating?" Nevren asked.

"Mmmm."

Mispy was still staring, wide-eyed. "D-does it hurt?" she asked.

"Hurt? Why?"

"I suppose it doesn't," Nevren said. "What a… strong reaction. I did not expect the Ghost Orb to behave this way. I thought it would be more, hm, ethereal, rather than… this."

"Lots of ghosts."

"Y-yes, I'm sure there are. Goodra, you… befriended the spirits of that Orb, did you not?"

"Mhmmm." He finally got out of the swamp, bumbling toward Nevren. The Alakazam responded by taking a step back. But the Goodra kept advancing until he was right in front of him, arms outstretched.

No, no—not that habit—why does this Goodra need to follow such a horrible stereotype to—

Nevren was lost to the squishy, slimy, decayed embrace of the rotten Goodra, pressed between his chest and his arms. He smelled of the deaths of a thousand corpses; Nevren's eyes watered uncontrollably.

"Yes, yes, it's very good to meet you, too," Nevren said, fishing desperately for his cyan badge. Revise, revise, revise! This must be revised! He cannot allow himself to live through this moment. Anything to cut this short. He could dodge it, he'd do anything to avoid this literal touch with death. Mispy was standing behind him at this point, trembling in a strange, confused mixture of laughter and fear.

"Mmmnn," the Goodra said. "It was so scary," he said. "But… but then…!" he sniffled again, pulling Nevren closer. The Alakazam lost hold of his badge in that instant and instead bumped against the exposed ribcage of the Goodra, which felt even softer than the last time. Was this Goodra melting under his own sheer power? Or was that just more of the rot permeating through every piece of the dragon's decaying form?

Nevren finally got a hold of the Revisor. His eyes relaxed, and he heaved a slow sigh. Finally, he could escape. He pressed the button, ready to sidestep.

At first, Nevren thought nothing had happened. But then he realized he was a bit further away from the Goodra again. He was still wrapped in the Goodra's embrace, and the smell of decay up close hit his nostrils for the first time, for the second time.

The moment had passed. And upon pressing the button, he had gone to the beginning of that moment to relive it again. Out of pure desperation, Nevren pushed the button for a second time, and a third, and a fourth, putting his hand in his bag early just to try, not caring about any signs of aggression he may have been displaying to break free. The Goodra was oblivious to it all. And the button did nothing; its gray, indifferent color indicated that there was nothing he could do to revise further than he'd already gone.

And so, he had to last another moment, repeated, in the Goodra's dead arms. It was the first time in perhaps centuries he wished to cry. And perhaps he was, if only for the stench—and if only for the experience that he had to relive for the second time, stinging all five of his senses. The air was so thick, indeed, that he could taste it. It reminded him of when Eon had forgotten to empty the broken fridge in storage. It had been a decade. It had its own ecosystem.

"Mmmnn," the Goodra said. "It was so scary," he said. "But… but then…!"

"I—I'm sure it was very frightening," Nevren said, returning to his senses. "Please—I beg of you—I am struggling to breathe."

"Ohhh!" The Goodra released him, and Nevren fell backwards and onto the dirt. The residual slime on his back made the ground stick to him, and he remained there, staring at the empty-eyed death dragon from below.

Mispy wrapped her vines around Nevren and helped tug him free, chunks of dirt remaining on his back.

Nevren composed himself with a steady breath, tuning out—to the best of his ability—the sensations that permeated the air. He then glanced down at his Revisor, then back at the Goodra. It was blue again, but if he pressed it now, he'd have to relive that for a third time. He counted the seconds in his head, just to be sure that he wouldn't have to, and the next moment revised would be one without the hug of death.

"Now, Goodra, I—suppose I should introduce myself," Nevren stalled. "My name is Alakazam Nevren, and this is my daughter, Chikorita Mispy. And you are?" He knew the answer, but it wasn't as if Madeline ever told her son about them.

"I'm Goodra Anam."

"It's very good to meet you, Anam," Nevren said, still counting the seconds.

Mispy eyed Nevren curiously, but then asked, "Is he… evil?"

"Evil?" Anam repeated. "No."

"I strongly doubt Anam has an evil bone in his body," Nevren said. He also doubted he had bones at all.

That was enough time, Nevren figured. He could finally—and safely—put to work what he was intending to do in the first place. If the vessel was still alive, then it wouldn't do to harvest the Orb right now. They probably didn't have the power to do it. And Madeline likely didn't have a lot of good to say about the rest of the Divine Dragons… Eon had tried to bring him over a long ago when she had first perished, and that failed.

He just had to win him over by force. This was the first confirmed Orb that they could get; he couldn't squander the opportunity.

"Goodra Anam, could you face me for a moment?"

"Hmmm?"

Nevren's eyes flashed and a wave of psychic energy infested Anam's mind. The Goodra's empty eyes bulged and he roared, clutching his head. Mispy yelped in surprise and hopped backwards; Nevren stepped away, too, but then Anam lunged forward and grabbed him by the throat. Nevren wheezed in surprise, clutching the Badge.

"You dare," Anam said—his voice suddenly warped and buzzing with a thousand different voices, "control my vessel?"

Nevren slammed his claw on the Revisor.

He was standing again, and Anam was right in front, tilting his head.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"H-hm? Yes. I'm fine. Why?"

Mispy's leaf flicked. "You were… introducing?"

"A-ah. Yes. My name is Alakazam Nevren, and this is Chikorita Mispy, my daughter. And you, Goodra?"

"I'm Goodra Anam."

"It's very good to meet you, Anam," Nevren lied.

Mispy eyed Nevren curiously, but then asked, "Is he… evil?"

"Eevil?" Anam repeated. "No."

Nevren was no longer sure. But he played along. "I highly doubt Anam is malevolent, Mispy. He merely… appears to be scary."

With another uncomfortable silence passed, he glanced at his bag. The gray button regained its glow. He could try again. This time, he'd do it with a bit more subtlety. Anam was too strong to control outright. He seemed dim-witted, and his mind was open, but there was more to this Goodra than he had initially given credit. Along with whatever that thing is inside the Ghost Orb. So, he'd have to be slower. Smaller thoughts. Disturb the subconscious mind, and perhaps…

"Well, Anam, I came here to ask you about something," Nevren said.

"Ohhh?"

"Yes," Nevren said, sending a much weaker, subtler wave toward the Goodra, this time acting on his deeper mind, pieces that he won't notice. If there was one thing he could appreciate about having only a single Hand of Arceus, it was that it allowed for very minute, precise changes to his reality. "I was wondering, why did you come in here? Why did you go into this wretched place?"

"Ohh, I wanted to find mm… mmm…" Anam stared at Nevren for a bit longer, those void-like eyes widening a little.

Yes, just a little more, Nevren said. Just to be careful, he kept hanging onto his Revisor. "You wanted to see who, Anam?"

Anam was quiet.

This sort of pause wasn't supposed to go for this long. "Who did—"

Arrows suddenly plunged into Nevren's back, and the sharp pain nearly made him pass out. He turned for only an instant and saw a Decidueye glaring at him. Mispy gasped, wide-eyed and frozen. The Decidueye said something, but the pain Nevren felt made whatever was said flow in one ear and out the other. Nevren slammed his hand on the button.

"Evil?" Anam repeated. "No."

Nevren was quiet. Mispy shifted uncomfortably behind him, as if waiting for Nevren to confirm Anam's words.

"Y-yes," Nevren said. "Anam is not evil. He is a vessel of the Ghost Orb. Right now, his body is adjusting to its power, and he is taking on a… Ghostly form. It must be reacting very strongly to him, for some reason."

"Well, this happened to me first."

"Ah, is that it?" Nevren asked. "So, this transformation was only partially due to the Orb. The rest was, ahh, you must have withstood quite a bit to get here."

That Decidueye was watching him from somewhere. He knew it. The last time Nevren had come here, that Decidueye tried to kill him all the same. Why did he seem so familiar? He never knew a Decidueye. It didn't matter. Nevren only knew that the ghostly spirit would be suspicious of anything he tried.

The modification would have to be a subtle thing, so subtle that perhaps only a single, tiny, insignificant thought could be nudged at a time. Nevren tried that, next. He drew into that single hand he possessed, and tried once again to modify Anam's mind. Just one thought. A simple thought, implanted: that he, the strange Alakazam before him, seemed friendly.

And he stopped there. He had to add little faults in his mind like that until Anam was open enough, and vulnerable enough, to manipulate quickly, and outright. Anam, the new vessel of the Ghost Orb, was too strong to fight, even now. He checked the button again. It was back to glowing, so he could try again. Around this time, he had been attacked by the Decidueye. But not now. It went unnoticed. The thought persisted. It was possible, but how long would it take?

He had to get the Orb, no matter what. Anam was too much of a threat to Eon and the others as its host.

"I like you," Anam suddenly said.

"A-ah?" Nevren asked, and he was ready to hit the Revisor again when he came toward him. But this time, Anam held out his cold, dead hand.

"I want you to come home with me."

Mispy shivered. "S-scary m-monster."

"Scary?" Anam asked.

"Your manner of speech is frightening Mispy," said Nevren.

"Ohh, I'm sorry," He held his jaw, trying to adjust it. "Everything's broken."

"M-maybe I can h-heal?" Mispy asked.

"Heal?"

Mispy focused and blasted Anam with a rush of healing energy. Residual fog in the air evaporated into empty air. Anam flinched at the light, and the rest of his body blackened considerably, but at the same time, his jaw and chest closed up. While dark, he looked whole again.

Anam slapped his cheeks lightly, and then adjusted his feelers. They retracted into his skull and then slid back out to their full length, nearly down to his tail, and then returned to their neutral, limp position behind him. "Wow!" Anam said. "I feel great!" And his vocal pacing was finally normal.

Mispy sighed, relieved. At least now he didn't look like an animated corpse. The eyes, though. They were still completely black.

"Thank you! I can talk a lot better, now! I guess I must've been more hurt than I thought." He giggled.

"Y-yes, well," Nevren said, "it's very good that you're in better shape. "Now, what was that about wanting me to… come home with you?"

"Oh, right," Anam said. "Umm, yes! I live in Quartz Crater."

"The center mountain? There's a settlement there?" Of course there was; it was where Madeline had lived, and where the villagers had likely taken care of Anam since then.

The villagers…

"Anam, did you not come here with a group?"

Anam's expression darkened solemnly.

"Ah, no. There's no need to think about that. Tell me about Quartz Crater, please."

Anam perked up again. "Yeah! It's a big climb, but most wild Pokémon can't get there very easily, and we can see them coming. Plus, there aren't any Dungeons there yet, either! So it's nice and stable. The perfect spot!"

"I see," Nevren said. "Quartz Crater…"

"Do you want to become a Heart?"

"…What?" Nevren asked.

"Yeah! Umm—!" Anam turned around and dug through the swamp, pulling out what looked like a little, dull stone. Wiping away the grime, the natural shine of the object pushed through. There was a badly-clawed insignia of a heart on the front. "Here! This is a badge that makes you a member of the Hundred Hearts!"

Nevren took the badge and rolled it in his hand. "This is solid gold," he stated. "Anam, how in the world did you acquire enough gold to create these Badges?"

"Huh? What do you mean?" Anam asked. "What's a gold? I've just been getting as many rocks as I could that I could carve a heart into so it looks pretty! This one is a little lumpy."

"I—I see. So, you just happen to have a gold ingot?"

"Mhm! I prayed to Arceus for good fortune, and I think He answered!"

"Hm, I see," Nevren said, unconvinced. He did have a lot of time to find something like this, so it wasn't too surprising. "So, you're saying that you happened upon this gold piece by chance? How lucky."

"Well, some of my friends helped melt it out of other rocks, too. And we made a bunch of other Badges, too! But this is the only one I could make with this material." Anam stared down quietly. "My friends…"

"Well, in any case," Nevren said, "I would be happy to accompany you home, but I will need some time to prepare."

Mispy gulped, looking at the drops of black, sticky slime that plopped on the ground. She followed the source to the Goodra's face. "Umm…"

Nevren eyed Anam. "Are you crying?" he said. Had he said something incorrect? His hand hovered over the Revisor.

"N-no, I'm… not! I'm… happy," Anam sniffled, wiping his eyes. "It's j-just been a… r-really stressful day."

"I can imagine," said Nevren. "Well. In any case, once I have my obligations in order, I will meet you in Quartz Crater. It will take a few days for me to travel there from where I live, of course, but you should be able to wait. Is that fair?"

"Okay! I'll see you then, and, um, travel safe, okay?"

"I will." Nevren looked to Mispy. "Now then, let's return home, Mispy. Compared to here, the rest of our excursion will be easy."

"Um," Mispy hesitated. "Will… will he be okay?" she pointed her leaf at Anam.

"Quartz Mountain is quite close to here," Nevren said. "For a Pokémon of his size, it shouldn't take longer than a quarter of the day. Our trip will be much longer."

"Where do you live, anyway?" Anam asked.

"Ah, I live in the Southeastern Archipelago."

"Oh, wow, that's a corner of the world!"

"Indeed," Nevren said. "So, please understand if we take a bit longer. I promise you, however, that I will return within a week's time."

"A what's time?" Anam asked, tilted his head.

"Within seven days. My apologies. The Archipelago has odd terminology for the passage of time."

"Ohh, okay. I'll see you in seven days, Nevren!" Anam held out a hand. Figuring that nothing would be lost after how much grime already covered him, the Alakazam returned the favor, and they shook.


Dark wood floors met white marble walls, though neither were visible in the total darkness. The whole world was silent in this room, except for a weak, single gurgling noise in the corner, atop a wooden bed and thick mattress, large enough to hold a Charizard. There was a blanket on top of this mattress with a smooth texture, stuffed with cotton. It was blissful, being able to sleep under the covers, letting the dull heat of the body course through the pocket of air.

And then, a disturbance. Someone knocked on the door, and the peace was broken. "Eon."

"Mrrrgh. What is it, Hecto? Star's not here, get over it…"

"That is not the reason for my call. I also do not appreciate your nonchalance toward Star's absence."

The gurgling stopped and was replaced by shuffling. A Zygarde, an exact copy of Hecto, slid off of the bed and walked clumsily to the door. He went on his hind legs and pushed it open, eyes straining in the sudden light. "Ngh." Eon shook his head. "What time is it?"

"It is noon. You overslept."

"What happened to your ribbon… thing?" he asked, observing that the green scarf-like extension on his neck was short, ending in a jagged taper.

"Trapinch have very strong jaws," Hecto stated. "I have yet to ask Mispy to repair the damage."

"Mispy?" Eon yawned. "She left with Nevren for the Ghost Orb."

"They have returned."

"A-already?" Eon said, jolting.

"It has been a week," Hecto stated. "The Rotwood Fen is quite far, and Nevren does not have the energy to perform Teleport so often. He has not perfected the technique due to the Dungeon anomalies interfering with his power. That was his explanation."

"A whole week, already?" Eon muttered. "Where did all that time go?"

"You have spent the past five days sleeping, eating, and brooding."

"There's no need to remind me," Eon hissed. "I'm merely thinking about our next steps. Nevren's first plan clearly didn't work, and now we have to figure out how to stabilize their auras. And what is Rhys suggesting, again? Meditation? What pseudoscience is that?" Eon rubbed his face with his paw. "I need a snack."

"It will take centuries to stabilize their auras that way," Hecto said. "But it is better than nothing."

"Nothing. Hmph. Are you insinuating that I'm doing nothing?" Eon asked. "I was the one to send Nevren off, wasn't I? Why, without me—"

"I do not question your leadership," Hecto said, lowering his head without expression.

"Well… well, that's good," Eon said, straightening. The duplicate Zygarde walked down the marble halls. "We need to renovate this place," he said. "It's too… sterile."

"Hm. Star expressed something similar."

"Yeah… Star…" Eon trailed off. "Curse that disgraced Creator for forcing her to withdraw."

Hecto's left paw twitched slightly. "She wants you to keep fighting, Eon. All of us. No matter what Arceus has to say about it."

Eon grunted. "Of course."

They continued through the hall, and once they entered a large chamber—complete with a small couch and light fixture—Eon spotted the Alakazam sitting on a chair with Mispy resting on his lap, asleep. "Hello, Eon. Er, I imagine that is Eon. Ah, yes, it is." He only knew because one of the Zygarde transformed into an Alakazam upon being addressed.

"Hello, Nevren," said the Alakazam. "How did it go? I do not sense any new power from you."

"Unfortunately," Nevren said, "the Ghost Orb and its vessel is too powerful to overcome."

"Even with that lucky charm of yours?" Eon mocked.

"I'll have you know, it's quite useful," Nevren said, pulling out his Revisor.

"What's a little charm like that gonna do for you?" Eon sighed. "Honestly, for someone so scientific, I don't get how you can be so superstitious about something that turns gray every now and then."

"It doesn't turn gray for no reason. It can look a moment into the future. If it turns gray, it means I must be cautious. It's incredibly useful, don't you th—"

Nevren was blasted backwards by an intense Psychic blast. The wind was knocked out of him, and Mispy squeaked, crying out in pain.

"N-Nevren!" Eon gasped, running over. "I—you were supposed to dodge that! I—I didn't mean to—"

Nevren slammed on the button.

"Hello, Nevren," said Eon. "How did it go? I do not sense any new power from you."

Nevren paused for just a moment, but then nodded. "Unfortunately," he said, "the Ghost Orb and its vessel is too powerful to overcome."

"Even with that lucky charm of yours?" Eon mocked.

"I'll have you know, it's quite useful," Nevren said, resting his hand on his bag.

"What's a little charm like that gonna do for you?" Eon sighed. "Honestly, for someone so scientific, I don't get how you can be so superstitious about something that turns gray every now and then."

Nevren sighed, but he mentally braced himself. "It doesn't turn gray for no reason," he said. "It can look a moment into the future. If it turns gray, it means I must be cautious. It's incredibly useful, don't you—"

Nevren countered Eon's surprise blast with his own Psychic; this caused the air around them to abruptly twist into a miniature tornado, startling Mispy awake. Eon grunted and stumbled back, feeling some of the aftershock. He was less experienced as an Alakazam, and Nevren knew this; it was trivial to counter his blast, when it wasn't a cheap shot.

"Hm, well," Nevren said, raising his Revisor. "Would you look at that? My good luck charm warned me that you would try something on me. Do you see the gray color?"

"You don't say," Eon muttered, watching the Revisor turn cyan again. "Nrgh. I'll outsmart it one day. Just you wait. I'm almost positive I had a dream of actually striking you with that blast, too!"

"Yes, but that will remain but a dream and fantasy," Nevren said with a nod. "I imagine you would be very unhappy if you succeeded. You could have hurt poor Mispy."

Mispy was already asleep again.

"Ng—w-well, then, it's a good thing I held back," Eon grunted.

He nodded, but then set Mispy down on the cushion and walked with Eon down the hall. Hecto followed wordlessly.

Lies. That was your strongest blast. "Well, it all works out. In any case, with my Danger Medallion, or as you call it, my lucky charm, I was able to speak to and befriend the Goodra that became the vessel of the Ghost Orb. He doesn't seem to know who I am; I doubt Madeline was fond of speaking of us.

"There was no way Elder would have convinced him to give up that power, unfortunately." Nevren nodded. "The spirits are too hostile. Additionally, I tried to convince him with a wipe of the mind, or rather, I planned to, but my Danger Medallion warned me quite strongly against it. It wouldn't have worked."

"I see. So, there's no way for us to take the power from him, at all?" Eon asked.

This gave Nevren pause. "There is one way." He stopped walking, and Eon and Hecto did the same.

"So, you already have an idea?" Eon asked.

"Yes." Nevren said. "I do not know how long it will take, and I do not know how effective it will be unless I wait for a very long time, but I was able to implant a single, simple thought that I seemed friendly, without raising any suspicion. If I can do small thoughts like that every few days or weeks…" Nevren hummed in thought. "Over time, I can weaken his subconscious mind, and perhaps then get what we need out of him. We could even get a new ally out of this."

"A thought every few weeks? A single thought?"

"It will grow."

"For how long, Nevren?" Eon said. "The way you're talking about this—I don't know what will take longer, repairing the fusions' auras, or converting the new Ghost vessel."

"I do not know, either," Nevren said. "But the Goodra is naïve and trusting. I doubt he will catch on. Yes…" Nevren tapped his claws against the back of his hand. "In time, he will be under my control and not even realize it, Eon. Then we can use his power to claim the other Orbs, once we find them, don't you think?"

"That's a bit reaching," Eon said. "I'd rather go after the Orbs the normal way, if we can actually find them."

Nevren nodded. "But until then, perhaps that will be my plan. I promised Anam that I would meet him once I had my obligations finished at my home. It's quite a far travel… but the first thing I will invest my time in will be that Waypoint system I had mentioned to you before. With some luck, travel from here to there would not be so burdensome." Nevren eyed Eon. "You are uncomfortable."

"Of course I am," Eon said, crossing his arms. "You're leaving this place in order to see Madeline's son? Isn't that a bit risky, being the Ghost vessel, of all people? What if Madeline's spirit finds her way to the Ghost Realm? Then what?"

"Perhaps we can make amends. It isn't as if it is impossible to repair relations with her."

Eon stared a bit more closely at Nevren, but then sighed. "Madeline's scary, though… I don't want to imagine what her spirit would be like."

"We don't have a choice in the matter," Nevren said. "And there is actually something we can use there, Eon. He is the leader of the Hundred Hearts. With his newfound power, perhaps he can go even further. Not only would we gain an ally in Anam, but perhaps an entire army. That's what Madeline would have wanted. What if we can use her old blessings in Anam and save the world that way?"

Eon blinked, and Nevren saw, briefly, that spark of hope in his eyes. That undying light; it was almost contagious. Nevren returned his smile.

The Alakazam continued. "On my way home, in fact, I sensed an odd presence. Creatures with strange auras scouting the land. We have never seen movement like that before, have we?"

"What is this? Scouting? What sort of creature?"

"Various Pokémon. All kinds," Nevren said. "I don't think we are the only ones hunting for the Orbs, Nevren. Perhaps the Holy Dragons loyal to Arceus are still around after all.

Eon hummed, the light in his eyes dimming. "It's been too long since we've seen them. I… I do wish we could have made up. We used to be such a great team."

"All in the past, I'm afraid," Nevren said. "Speaking of things in the past…" Nevren lowered his voice. "I don't know why, but there were wraiths in Rotwood Fen."

Eon's expression darkened instantly.

Nevren shrugged dismissively; it was all he knew. They had to be careful. "In any case, aligning with Anam will be my goal. I will return here every now and then to continue my research and assistance, and… Eon. Don't look so betrayed. It is not as if I'm leaving for good."

"I—I'm not betrayed at all," Eon said, turning away.

Nevren sighed. "Once I can get the Waypoints operational, travel will be trivial. Can you hold out for at least a little while until then?"

Eon pouted. "I suppose so," he said.

With a short silence, Nevren nodded. "In any case, that is all that I have on the matter. Thank you, Eon," he said.

"I believe Eon is becoming increasingly lonely," Hecto observed.

"Y-you will not make assumptions like that," Eon said instantly. "I'm just worried. I don't want to lose anybody else to silly debates."

"A schism between Mew and Arceus is hardly silly," Nevren pointed out.

"It's beginning to be," Eon said.

Nevren didn't have a counter. Instead, he conceded with a nod, and refocused the subject. "We have to focus on ourselves for now. For Star. And if Barky's Divine Dragons are making moves to gather the Orbs, perhaps we should do the same, as Star's Divine Dragons. Yes?"

"I suppose you're right," Eon agreed. "Rrmf. Speaking of Divine Dragons. Anam. How is he, overall… would you say? Is he like Madeline?"

"Anam is… nothing like Madeline," Nevren said. "For one, she would never be so easily manipulated. And I would never expect Madeline to hug somebody."

"The Goodra hugged you?"

"You will never bring this up again."

Eon held his arms up.

Nevren rubbed at his left mustache. "In any case, that is my plan. I hope you are satisfied."

"Wait," Eon said.

"Yes?"

Eon held out his hand. "If you go… we need some insurance should something go wrong."

"…I see," Nevren said. He stared uneasily at Eon's hand. "A Divine Promise, then?"

"If… it is not too much to ask," Eon said.

"Well, asking me to make a Divine Promise implies that you cannot trust me at my word alone," said Nevren.

"It isn't you that I am worried about," Eon said. "It's that Goodra. If he harms you… and takes away your power—we'll be down a Hand!"

"One of a thousand. An Orb is perhaps twenty times more valuable."

"Regardless, I don't want to take such a chance." Eon said. "Nevren… do you Promise not to lose your Hand to another?"

Nevren stared. "…Eon," he said calmly, "I cannot Promise that."

"Wh—why not?!" Eon said. "It's perfectly reasonable! If you lose your power, I'll get it instead."

"That isn't how it works, Nevren. You are asking me to give you power that I would no longer have. The Promise would take effect once I lose that power. Therefore, you will gain zero Hands when I break that Promise."

"Wh—well, wouldn't I get the power that the other person got?"

"Promises are tied to the person, not the power, Eon." Nevren sighed, wondering how he could simplify it for the Ditto. "And I am not about to Promise not to be in danger of losing my power, either, because that is so broad—who knows how it would be interpreted. You need to be very careful with how Promises are phrased, Eon."

"Nrgh… well then, you come up with a Promise, smart guy."

Nevren was at least glad that Eon had the mind to defer to his intelligence. "I don't think there is one that is good enough to satisfy you, Eon, while still being practical. You will just have to take me at my word that I will return, and—"

"I've got it," Eon said, slamming his right hand into his left palm. "Promise me that you'll return in two weeks!"

"…You are becoming codependent, Eon," Nevren and Hecto both said.

"Th-that is beside the point. I do not want a fellow Divine Dragon to be away for too long in a world like that, let alone next to a place where wraiths showed up! C-can't you send Rhys with you, too?"

"Rhys has to tend to Mispy and the others," Nevren said, "and I highly doubt he will leave without Elder, and he's much too slow for travel." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Also, two weeks is a bit broad. If a storm arrives or some other impediment, that Promise may break accidentally. But if it will make you feel more secure for yourself…" He sighed. "Three weeks. Will that do?"

Eon grumbled, squeezing his arms with his claws. "Fine, three weeks."

Nevren shook his head, holding his hand out. "Then I hereby Promise that within three weeks, that is, within twenty-one revolutions of the world, I shall return here, indicated by stepping onto these marble floors, or however you renovate it by the time I return. Do you accept these terms?"

Eon grinned. "I accept."

Their hands glowed. The light faded, and the Promise was made.