"Mrs. Sheridan!" Lillie called from down the hall as she jogged toward the head of the task force.

"Mrs. Sheridan, it's been a long time! Do you think we could see—oh..."

The young trainer looked at Morai's unconscious body in the arms of two guards. She was covered in abrasions and small tears in her clothes from fighting. The wrist she had bitten had yet to be properly bandaged, and Lillie eyed it with a puzzled expression. Her brother, Gladion, walked up beside her, and Hau followed suit.

"She...bit her own hand? Why?"

"It's a long story, Miss Lillie," Sheridan answered with a sigh. "Please go back to your designated area. You all can see her soon after she wakes up."

"Why is she moving like that?" Gladion asked, his arms crossed over his chest. His Silvally sat freely beside him. Objections were silently made by much of the staff, but given Lusamine's recent act of charity, no one made their opinion known. Lusamine herself joined the group, who were all looking at Morai curiously.

Morai's mouth was moving every so often, forming words that no one could quite make out. Soft but recognizable expressions crossed her face as if she were conscious, or at least deeply steeped in vivid dreams. Sheridan looked at the doctor, who was deeply invested in this new development.

Could it be true? she thought. Is this Dream World of hers a real place?

A look of confusion spread across Morai's face and she tilted her head. Her fingers twitched, and she began to stretch her arm very slowly into the air. Everyone let out small gasps and leaned in. One of the guards nearly let go of her.

Morai stood at the edge of the world, or so it seemed. She had taken a walk through the garden with the intention of visiting Shadow Morai's old house, but had begun to wonder how far the garden itself spanned. In all of her time here she had never ventured out past Shadow Morai's house. Come to think of it, even Light Morai's home was a mystery to her. Past Morai was nowhere to be found, so Morai began to walk past her old counterpart's home until she reached a steep edge.

The trainer peered down, but nothing seemed to occupy the vast and empty space below. It was as dark as the night sky itself despite it being daytime. She stretched her hand out past the edge just to see if whatever Dream Realm physics that existed would allow it.

"Did they know?" the group in the waking world heard her mumble.

"Is this how they got to those forests we trained in? Is Shadow Morai's original dungeon in there somewhere? There has to be a way down," she surmised, walking along the edge. "Surely they didn't just—"

Something pushed her off, or least she swore that's what happened. Her entire body twitched in the waking world, and the doctor urged the men to get her to his lab.

Morai began plummeting toward what she thought might be certain death, however that worked in this world. She yelled as she fell endlessly through pitch black darkness, blindly reaching out to grab or feel anything that would perhaps save her.

Have I doomed myself to this fate? Falling forever? Will I wake up?

She couldn't feel her heart pounding against her chest, and in such darkness she seemed to forget that she occupied a body in the first place. She began to feel as if she had become a part of the expanse itself. She couldn't hear her yells or the air against her body anymore. She couldn't even tell she was falling. Sharp fear turned into a sort of peace and quiet curiosity.

Suddenly, Morai landed. It was as if she had fallen asleep and woken up again. There was no impact when she touched the ground. She just appeared there, standing. A sense of inherent unease returned when she realized she was in a place far different from the Realm of Dreams she knew. She was surrounded by four giant mirrors that took place of the walls, floor, and ceiling. Everywhere she turned, her own face was looking back at her. The confused trainer went to take a step, and as soon as the foot she lifted touched the ground again, every surface fractured into thousands of different pieces, filling the vacuum of sound with the booming noise of breaking glass.

Every surface remained intact, but instead of four reflections looking back at her, Morai now had thousands of them. In every piece lied some version of herself that had existed since she became The Mask Maker. In one piece her reflection was exactly the same, but in another her hair was long and braided like the past version of herself, and she was wearing her past counterpart's clothes. Her eyes were their normal hazel-gray in some but red in others, a mask adorning her face in some but not in others. There were different masks on different faces, all looking back at her. Morai shuttered away from the ones that didn't look like her current self.

"Isn't it terrible?" a familiar voice called. It was her own. Morai looked around to see a silhouette that looked strikingly like Shadow Morai's, and she thought that she had perhaps stumbled across her lost counterpart. As it got closer, the figure seemed to confirm her hope. It carried itself with the confidence that her and Shadow Morai shared, the posture that suggested that nothing could stop it from continuing down its path.

"Shadow Morai?" she called with a mix of desperation and deep hope. The figure ran at her and attacked, clawing her across the arm she instinctively used to shield her face and sending her to the ground.

"No, you fool!" the other Morai snarled, standing above her and pulling her collar aside to reveal the marks on her neck. "I'm you, but from the very recent past. The you that was free, roaming around the back alleys, taking whatever you wanted from whomever you wanted."

Morai looked around, then back up at herself. She wore the outfit that Morai did in the past—her black and blood red vest suit, with her mask hanging from her hip.

"And you just live...here?"

"Not exactly," the other Morai said. "I'm a part of your psyche, but I'm not special enough to be a designated counterpart of yours. That honor lies with your two passed friends and the imbecile you're stuck with now. I'm just a passing dream, but I'm here to do you a favor."

"And what is that?"

"You've become sick," the other Morai said, enunciating the last word especially harshly. "Sick with kindness."

"But I'm only asleep because I attacked Sheridan," Morai said.

"Yeah, but she's old news," the other Morai said with a flippant wave of her hand. "The problem is Maria. You held back. You showed kindness and mercy. You went against your very nature! If you keep it up, before long, that one small act will blossom into a disease that poisons you from the inside out and makes you weak. It's exactly what they want. Do you really want to go back to being who you were?"

"But...she's...I like her, I think," Morai said, hesitant to admit it. "Out of everyone, she seemed—"

Morai's dream counterpart slashed her across the jaw and grabbed her by the collar.

"This thinking will kill you and your soul!" she snarled, her eyes furious and red, her sharp teeth bared inches away from the real Morai's face. "If you continue down that path, you'll be even more miserable than the fool you're stuck with now was. You read her journal. Constantly yanked back and forth between evil and good, unable to make up her damn mind! And now she's trapped in the Dream Realm, forced to remember her sorrow for the rest of eternity."

"You don't need friends," she continued, letting go and brushing herself off with one hand. "You're way too much of a monster for that. Think about it. Why would anyone want to befriend you, the one who hurts anything that breathes and incinerates everything that gets too close? You're destined to be alone. All you have in the end is you, and if you're caught between two worlds and identities, how could you ever be happy? The solution is simple. You need to readjust your path and put yourself firmly back onto the side of evil forever."

Dream Morai helped Morai up and put an arm around her. She ran her finger across Morai's wound and flicked the blood onto the glass floor. The tiles it landed in changed from Past Morai to her current self. The blood that had splattered from her previous attacks had also changed every tile it landed in.

"You're not too far gone," Dream Morai whispered with a smile. "All it takes is blood. Paint those metaphorical tiles red, Morai, and I'll be cheering you on from your dreams. Then we'll become one and the same again. We'll be free again."

Dream Morai stepped forward and turned around to face Morai, her smile growing wider.

"The rules are more loose here, meaning I can do this."

With a snap of her fingers, Maria appeared beside her. At least, it was a dream version of Maria.

"Go on," Dream Morai urged. "There are no consequences here. Remember how good it feels so that you can do it in the waking world and secure your freedom once more. Break the chains you just shackled yourself with!"

When Morai gave pause, her dream counterpart's smile turned into a frown.

"Do it, or I will," she growled, her vulpine smile returning to her face.

Morai licked her own teeth and swallowed. She wanted to take advantage of this opportunity, but something still gave her pause. Maria's face, with its kind smile, put her off.

"Oh, fine!" Dream Morai snapped. She quickly turned and lunged at Maria, but something stopped her, seemingly descending from the air to tackle her. Dream Morai quickly stood up, and Past Morai stood before her. She wore a different mask than Morai had ever seen and a new cloak adorned her shoulders. She also carried a strange wooden staff.

"Morai of the past! Look at you, you pitiful thing," Dream Morai greeted. "You always look so glum. You have the story of two sides at war written on your clothing, yet you yourself have also jumped from the line between good and evil. You lie on the other side from Morai and I. Who looks happier, hm?"

It was true. Past Morai carried herself as if she seemed tired of carrying the stories and memories of all her counterparts, telling the story of the battle between good and evil in the soul. She always had a sort of solemn, tired expression on her face, yet it was also one that showed patience and wisdom. Whatever spiritual journey she had embarked on in the Dream Realm had aged her soul considerably.

"You are biased," she said, moving her mask to the top of her head. "You're sewing fear and false ideas. But that is your nature, seeing as how we're in Shadow Morai's domain of the Outlands."

The what? Morai thought.

"It was already there," Dream Morai countered. "You see, Morai here doesn't want to end up like you, miserable because you're torn between two opposing forces. I simply had to remind her, but perhaps it was unneeded. Your face is enough to do that!"

Dream Morai drew out a vial full of red liquid from inside her vest and downed it, grimacing as it took hold in her body and mind. Her eyes grew to be an even deeper red, and she seemed even more eager to fight. She lunged at Past Morai, who dodged and tried to take her to the ground. It seemed that Past Morai had taken after Light Morai in that she preferred grappling instead of striking.

Her staff wasn't of much use in the way of fighting because she had never learned to use one when she was the true Morai, and the current Morai hadn't either. If the true Morai—the Morai walking around in the real world—doesn't possess a skill, that knowledge cannot be obtained by any counterpart in the Dream Realm. The only exception lies in psychic abilities, which have the opposite rule. All of the psychic abilities Morai can possess are already in her psyche and brain and she simply has to unearth them. There are restrictions, however. If Morai's soul is unbalanced, as it is now, she will not be able to use certain abilities. Light Morai's abilities—The Mind's Eye and Calming Touch—have been lost to Morai because she no longer possesses Light Morai's attributes of gentleness, kindness, and true goodwill.

Past Morai, who had been struck and clawed many times at this point, used her staff as a pole to swing around behind her opponent and attack from behind, but her opponent simply used a spinning elbow to counter. The two continued to fight, but Dream Morai—or Nightmare Morai, as she was becoming—had bloodlust and serum-fueled energy that Past Morai struggled to match.

As the two fought tooth and nail—literally, in Dream Morai's case, the true Morai stood on the sidelines, watching. She had no Growlithe in this fight, and she didn't even know what her past counterpart was fighting for. Maria was a mirage created by Morai's dreams, as Morai understood it, and was incapable of thought or feeling. There was no reason to protect her unless Past Morai was simply fighting on principle. Perhaps she was fighting in Light Morai's stead, representing the good to combat this dream version of Morai's evil. Whatever the reason, Morai was interested to see who would win.

Dream Morai went to kick her battered opponent, who raised a leg to check it. Her wild grin grew wider when she saw that Past Morai had taken the bait. She kicked her standing leg hard and out from under her, causing her to fall onto her back without the chance to roll and save herself the nasty fall. Dream Morai put her metal-rimmed boot onto her opponent's throat and looked up at Morai with a smile.

"You've got a choice, Morai," she said, licking blood from her fingers. "You can either forsake your true nature and end up a miserable thing like this one here, or you can do what it is you're meant to do. Either way, you're still a monster."

She raised Past Morai up by the collar of her cloak and tilted her head up, forcing her to look at her true counterpart.

"She only shows you the memories that she wants you to see," Dream Morai said, "so that you will choose the path she wanted to take but couldn't. She is a liar and a fraud. She, too, is a monster, but she tried to convince herself otherwise."

Past Morai was dropped to the ground and Dream Morai's toothy grin was the last to vanish. Maria was still standing and not looking at anything in particular. She hadn't moved out of the way of the fight, and it was clear that none of Maria's own personality had been injected into this mirage. She stood like a puppet with no master.

Past Morai used her staff to bring herself to her knees, coughing as she tried to catch her breath. It seemed that her fight had nearly broken her and it had discouraged her as well. Morai finally walked over to her, looking at her with a sort of curiosity instead of offering her hand. The blood spilled on the shattered tiles, which was almost solely Past Morai's, had changed them all.

"Where are we?" Morai asked.

"The Dream Outlands," Past Morai almost solemnly replied, getting up to her feet and clinging onto her staff for support. "This is the place where regular dreams and nightmares occur. The Garden of Dreams and some of the terrain surrounding it, like the lake you last visited, are governed by the same rules as the waking world, more or less. But here, your imagination and subconscious can run wild. I'm sure you can guess which of our counterparts influenced this side the most."

"Why didn't Light or Shadow Morai mention it?" Morai asked.

"I suppose they didn't have a reason to. I happened upon it by chance—or by fate, perhaps. Either way, I had to learn to traverse it alone. We should leave here now. I tend to be at odds with this side of the Outlands."

"Really?" Morai chuckled. "I thought you were received with a rather warm welcome! Why leave when we could explore it?"

"It's a dangerous game, regardless of which side you're on," Past Morai replied. "This cloak, mask, and staff were sort of thrust upon me to help me traverse the different lands, and I spent some time traveling around. The farther out you go, the more unruly and strange the world becomes. For you, who still has to wake up and live, your sense of balance between dreams and reality is a delicate one. If you spend too much time dreaming, even in the Garden of Dreams, you are susceptible to what I call Dream Sickness. I began to experience it while I was the true Morai, and you do too. Your sense of time is distorted, past memories quickly fade away, and the world tends to take on a dream-like quality at times. These are side effects that you will likely always have, even without many dreams, but if you spend too much time and energy here, it can become something much worse."

Morai took the explanation as a challenge more than anything else, but an idea that had been sitting in the back of her mind suddenly pushed its way to the front.

"That Maria really is a mirage, right? There's no real connection to her at all?" she asked.

Past Morai frowned.

"No, there's not," she said reluctantly, "I suppose the choice is up to you. If we were to fight over it now, you would win."

Past Morai gave that specific answer on purpose. She wanted to see if the one who now held her name in the real world would commit the atrocity she had been wanting to commit since she first heard Maria's voice. Morai walked closer to the young woman, circling behind her. Maria only looked at her with a sort of blank expression and smiled. The thirst clawing at Morai's throat and tongue seemed unbearable. With red eyes, she opened her mouth and bared her teeth. Then she woke up.

"Oh, Morai," Past Morai sighed as she stood in the Outlands alone, bloodied and bruised. She looked at all of the reflections scattered across every surface of the room.

"Am I truly the right person for this job?" she asked herself as she walked a small ways toward the direction of the Garden of Dreams. She stopped, closed her eyes, and fell backward with no intention to catch herself. She fell through complete darkness, the same way Morai did, until she found herself standing on the edge from which she had fallen before.

Past Morai prepared a small meal and went to the garden's center, sitting close by Light Morai's statue. Even after her metaphorical death, she favored Light Morai. Perhaps she was still afraid of her own dark nature, even after her period of spiritual growth and time in the Realm of Dreams. Seeing Morai did seem to make her sad. She sat close by her old counterpart as the winds picked up. The shawl she had placed around the statue's shoulders was still there, even though her new cloak had just been torn to shreds by the figment of nightmare she had just fought.

The trainer had grown lonely. Many of the Pokémon that had inhabited the garden left because of the decay that had spread throughout it. Her own Pokémon and those of her old counterparts kept her company, but she longed for a human companion who she didn't share a name with. She missed Ingo and Emmet and the many friends she had made throughout her many years as a trainer and a Champion.

If I were to return as I am now, would they still love me?

Morai seemed to startle awake, her mouth hanging open and her teeth bare. She found herself in an unexpected place, the doctor's study, and Maria was bandaging her wrist. She gasped at the sight and pulled her arm back.

"You need to leave," she said sternly.

"But—"

"Leave!" she growled, her eyes turning red. She knew the moment she did it that she had scared Maria, as she could sense a rise in her fear. Maria turned away with a lowered head and left the room.

"Are you angry with her?" the doctor asked, stepping in to finish the bandage work Maria had started.

"No. Well, yes!" Morai replied, gripping the seat and leaning forward. "The whole idea was ludicrous! She's ludicrous for being so...nice! There's no making friends with me, who'd only hurt her in the end! I just proved it!"

"What you just did was tame compared to—"

"No, no, in my dreams!" Morai continued, her voice still raised. She was all tensed up, and the doctor had to stop what he was doing because she kept moving her arm. He had observed her closely the entire time she was unconscious, as she kept making small movements and mumbling things.

"Alright, alright," he said. "Hold still while I tend to your injuries, then you can continue."

Morai swatted the doctor's hands away.

"No!" she growled, getting up out of her seat. "Do you know what I want? No, what I need?"

Her frown turned into a smile as she faced the doctor, who wouldn't look her in the eye. She took on the same look she had before with Sheridan.

"There's no need to attack me for it," he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "I'll just give it to you...even though it hasn't been much time at all. I'd rather spare you and myself the struggle. Have a seat over there, if you would."

"Why should I, when I could just take it from you?" she chuckled, flexing her claws. "The fight is half the fun."

The doctor frowned, backing up toward a shelf. He kept things around for this occasion, since he figured it would occur sooner or later and more than once. He discreetly grabbed a syringe, but Morai noticed it.

"If you try and take it this time, I won't supply it willingly anymore," he said. "I can guarantee you that no one else will, and you'll have a real problem on your hands. I know you don't often think for your future self, but this is something I'd keep in mind."

Morai actually thought about her actions for a moment. She hated the idea of being reliant upon someone else, but in this case it was the best solution to her problem. Besides, she could still have her fun. Even more so, perhaps, because she wouldn't be acting out of necessity.

"Fine," she sighed, taking a seat. She waited patiently, resting her head in her still un-bandaged hand and leaning onto the countertop.

"I can't do this as frequently as I have been," the doctor said as he handed her a glass. "I do need this stuff to live, you know."

Morai downed the whole thing rather quickly, sighing and relaxing her shoulders.

"Thank you," she said, nodding toward the man as she slid the glass down the countertop back toward him.

"It's important that we figure out a solution to this problem, but I suppose that's a discussion for another time."

After Morai's injuries had been properly tended to, she headed out of the doctor's study, planning to get something to eat.

"Morai!" a familiar voice called. Maria was standing across the hall, holding her hands behind her back. Morai's eyes turned red and she bared her teeth, looming over her and trying to scare her.

"I told you—"

"I just wanted to give you these!" Maria interrupted, turning her head away and squeezing her eyes shut. A vase was in her outstretched hands, full of a few roses.

"I wanted to thank you," she continued. "For not...well, you know. You said that you liked roses. I didn't know what color you liked, so I assumed red, black, and white were pretty safe guesses. There aren't any of them in the garden. I thought we—or you—could plant some...if you wanted."

Morai stood there, staring at the flowers for a long moment. Her shoulders relaxed, and her eyes turned back to their normal color. She carefully but quickly took the flower arrangement from Maria's hands.

"Thank you..." she said. "But you really must go."

Maria nodded and quickly shuffled away. Morai continued to be perplexed by her actions. How could a stranger be so persistently kind to a monster who had seemingly lost her heart?

"The Aether Foundation is pleased to lend a helping hand in restoring our Champion's humanity. A terrible sickness has befallen her. I can relate, to an extent," Lusamine said. She and Sheridan were sitting outside in the garden.

"Whatever you need, we will be happy to supply it. You'll find that our employees have many different talents, from scientific work to caring for the injured."

"And they understand the risks they are taking?" Sheridan asked. "I'm sure you've seen some of our own nurses and guards. Our turnover rate has unfortunately been very high."

"They are well aware," Lusamine answered. "Some of them are quite familiar with...unsavory behavior."

"Thank you, Lusamine. Your graciousness gives me new hope."

"She saved me, once, some time ago. It's only fair that I return the favor. I know that my children are longing for the return of their friend."