Morai bared her teeth, her face twisting into anger.

"You...you're the reason I'm here!" she shouted, pushing Arthur away and turning the rest of her body toward the scientist. She held an accusatory finger in his face, holding his gaze with her nearly unblinking red eyes.

"For good reason," Colress simply replied. "You look healthier."

Morai's frown grew deeper. She could almost see the black color returning to the veins in her hands as that terrible poison surged through her system, cutting off her psychic abilities and nearly paralyzing her in agony. She shook the faded memory off with a toss of her head.

"I'm going repay your little favor," she said with a guttural laugh. I'm going to tear you to—"

"Morai!" Sheridan interrupted, raising her voice to cut through the prisoner's violent focus. After seeing that she had her attention, Sheridan relaxed her shoulders and sat down with a soft smile. "Might I remind you that the decision of whether or not you go to Alola is still in our hands. If you are deemed to be too violent and untrustworthy, you will not go. Anyone wanting to challenge you will just have to do without."

Morai glared at the chief of staff, her eyes wide and her pupils constricted. She had a slight tilt to her head, frozen in place as if waiting for the woman to backtrack. She, too, finally relaxed her shoulders with a sigh.

"Very well, then, Mrs. Sheridan," she softly hissed, putting extra enunciation on the name. That was all she said before slowly blinking, turning on her heel and walking out of the room, giving Colress a silently threatening and cutting look on her way out. It still gave him the chills, evoking some instinctive involuntary response that seemed to take hold of everyone that looked in those cold and unloving eyes.

A soft knock sounded on the door of the room minutes after Morai had left and after the rest of the meeting had been conducted. Sheridan was sitting alone at her desk quite pleased with herself, hoping that the chance of leaving her cathedral-prison was what it would take for Morai to keep control of her actions.

"Um, Mrs. Sheridan?" the small silhouette that had appeared in the door softly asked. The woman looked up from her desk to see an Aether Foundation employee.

"Yes?" she said. "You're one of the new transfers, right?"

"Yes ma'am," the employee answered.

"Are you having trouble getting settled?"

"Oh, no ma'am...It's just that...well you see...I'd like to be transferred back."

Sheridan straightened up in her chair, leaning forward a bit.

"Oh? Why is that?" she asked, putting her interlocked fingers in front of her face.

"I believe I'm in danger," the employee flatly answered. "I think The Mask M—er, Morai, has it out for me."

"She's got it out for everyone," Sheridan replied with something that almost sounded like a chuckle. "But if you'd really like to leave, it will take some time. Trips out of here have to be carefully arranged and Lusamine just left. Do you think you can last a few days? Morai currently has every reason not to harm anyone."

The Aether employee's shoulders slumped a little and she looked down for a moment.

"Yes, I suppose so," she finally replied. "Thank you."

I won't leave here unscathed, she thought.

Morai was nearly dragging her feet across the cold floor. Unsure of where she even wanted to go, the prisoner lied herself down right in the middle of the hall as guards looked at each other and shrugged.

"What am I supposed to do now?" she groaned. "What's the point if I can't have any fun?"

"Well, this is prison," a guard replied. "Having fun isn't exactly the top priority. It's probably at the bottom of the list, actually."

"Pfft, sure," Morai replied rather melodramatically, trying to wave him off with her handcuffed hands. "I've had loads of fun. Giving you that scar you use to try and impress women, for example, was fun. Fighting all of you was fun. Making entire groups of medical staff quit out of terror was fun. Nearly escaping was fun. All of it, fun and out of the question! What shall I do now, rather than lie here and wallow in pity?"

"Chess?" another guard replied. "Puzzles? Board games? Not being repulsively bloodthirsty and violent for two seconds?"

"Hey, weren't you supposed to be redoing the garden or something?" another guard chimed in. Morai shot up and jumped to her feet.

"That's right!" she exclaimed. "Though, that was before I nearly escaped and got Pollie to shoot me."

"If it keeps you out of trouble," someone else added, "I don't think she'll object. It's the Aether Foundation's money, anyway. Besides, it'll be good for you to take care of and be responsible for something else...like a pet! Except you can't hypnotize flowers."

"Write down what you need and I'll see if it can be done."

"Why are you being so...nice to me?" Morai asked. "I've hurt all of you."

"Because we also benefit from you not getting into trouble," one of them said. Everyone else nodded in agreement.

Morai headed to her room to see if she could sleep. She had no accurate measure of time short of going out of her way to look outside or asking someone, but she didn't bother. Being sedated as often as she was along with all of the fighting she did made it near impossible to keep track of how long she had been locked up in this place, and she didn't care to ask. She simply slept when she felt tired enough or when the day had gotten unbearably boring and there was no one around worth picking a fight with.

The prisoner tucked herself into bed and managed to fall asleep after several minutes. She found herself exactly where she wanted to be, standing in front of the garden's center.

"You know, if you honed your meditation enough, you could visit that way," her dream counterpart greeted. "I was close to achieving it, but you've fallen out of practice."

"It would be easier than taunting guards until they shoot me or waiting until I fall asleep naturally," Morai said. She simply scanned the area after that, taking in the details she couldn't normally remember while awake.

"I take it you're recreating this area in the real world?" Past Morai asked. Morai nodded, walking around and regarding the reflective stone that made up the center's floor.

"Might I ask why? I can work out your reasoning for many things, but this time I'm lost."

"A few reasons," Morai said without looking up. "For one, I wouldn't mind having some monument to my stay at that place, wherever in the world it is, so that my mark on the world won't be easily forgotten. I also need to keep myself busy and in Sheridan's good favor for the next week.

"So that you can escape while you're in Alola?" Past Morai guessed.

"Precisely."

"Do you care about remaining Champion? Or is the chance to leave your prison and formally escape what is driving you forward?"

"I will fight to keep my—or your—or our—title," Morai answered.

"But why not give it someone who is willing to protect it?" her counterpart asked, stepping toward her with open arms. "If you do manage to escape, you'll be on the run and unable to make any actions as Champion."

"Not if I play my cards correctly," The Mask Maker replied with a growing smile, her eyes flashing red for a moment. "Not if my hypnosis is strong enough. I won't have to worry about running if an entire island is under my command."

Past Morai gasped and frowned. "You wouldn't...corrupt your former home, where your friends live?"

"I thought about what you said," Morai answered. "I'm not going to simply fight random strangers on the street and take that serum until I whither away into nothing. I will maintain my strength and show what I'm truly capable of, washing away the remaining image of you until I am all that remains."

"No," Past Morai grimaced, assuming a fighting stance. "You will not succeed. You have to take the black serum before stepping foot out of that cathedral. You will be powerless."

"Yes, I still have to get around that," Morai said, putting a finger to her chin. "There's no way I'm willingly putting that poison back into my body, but I will be leaving that prison."

Her counterpart resumed her normal stance, shook her bowed head, and walked away. She had nothing else to say. She seemed to have no effect on her counterpart.

There is still hope, I think. Though you don't want to admit it, Morai, I suspect you're also redoing that garden as a place for the flowers Maria brought you.

Morai continued to memorize the garden until she woke up. As soon as her eyes opened she tore a scrap piece of paper from the journal the doctor gave her and began to sketch it all out. Once finished, she made a list of the necessary materials and handed it to a guard along with her sketch. She tried to describe them the best she could, but she had to admit that she wasn't used to constructing.

"In the meantime," she said, "I can get to work on creating a blank slate from what's already there. But I'm getting something to eat first."

Morai waltzed into the large dining hall with a smile on her face.

"Ms. Lochlynn!" she greeted. The woman who always made her food appeared from behind a counter in the kitchen area.

"Morai, dear!" she greeted with open arms.

"You're looking as good as the food you make tastes," Morai said, resting her chin in her handcuffed hands on the counter.

"Oh, stop it!" the red-faced woman answered with a wave of her hand. Ms. Locklynn was short and ample, with her brown hair tied back into a bun. She treated all of those who dined in the cathedral as her children and Morai, for whatever reason, was her star child. Morai treated her with the same sort of respect, never laying a hand on her or uttering a taunting word around her. It seemed unwise to do such things to the one who makes your food, and delicious food at that. Never bite the hand that feeds you, after all. Ms. Lochlynn seemed to forget that Morai was staying here on account of being a dangerous criminal whose hands were stained with blood, blood that she had a taste for.

"What's on the menu for today?" Morai asked.

"Tonight, you mean," Ms. Lochlynn corrected. "It's 3 a.m. now, dear."

"Oh my, is it?" Morai gasped. "I never know, you see."

"I know. This isn't the first time. You're a night Rowlet!" the woman said, ruffling the curled hair on top of Morai's head. That would've earned anyone else in the building a kick to the stomach or slash across the face.

Morai was served the best bowl of tofu, rice, and vegetables she had ever eaten. In the midst of her meal, she dropped her fork.

"The flowers!" she quietly gasped. "What happened to the flowers?"

The trainer jumped up from her seat, quickly thanked Ms. Lochlynn, and went to search for the pot of flowers where she had last put them...but she couldn't quite remember where that was. She had to retrace her steps as best she could, remembering that she had set them down at her spot at the table. Morai went and expected to find them there, but they were gone. She went trudging down the hall, looking around but trying not to alert any of the guards to what she was looking for.

Morai made it to the garden area, wondering if anyone had put them there. When the flowers weren't there, her shoulders slumped.

"Are you looking for these?" a voice behind her said. Morai turned to see Maria holding the pot.

"Oh! I was wondering what happened to those," Morai said, her face turning a bit red as she tried to brush off the desperation of her search. Maria simply smiled and held them out for Morai to take.

"Thank you, Maria," she said with a slight nod. Maria was surprised to see the slightest hint of a sincere smile forming in the corners of her mouth. Not a maniacal or scheming grin, but a soft and grateful smile. The trainer shook her head and lost the expression.

"I suppose I should get going," Maria said. She had a small scarf tied around her neck, a choice that had seemingly become an intentional habit.

"Yes...I suppose so," Morai said. When Maria turned her back to leave, Morai reached her free hand out as if she were about to ask her to stay, but she felt the sting of thirst on her tongue and decided it was better to let Maria go. She stood there with her flowers for a few moments after Maria left, regarding the petals of the roses. They reminded her of the ones in the garden in her dreams. The ones that were still alive on Shadow Morai's side, anyway.

"Aw!" a guard exclaimed. "That was so sweet! You must really care about those—"

Morai found herself standing in front of the man, a clawed finger to his throat, but she caught herself.

You can't do that if you want to go to Alola, she reminded herself.

The prisoner backed away, the simple black pot still cradled in one of her arms.

"These are going in the new garden," she explained coolly. "Seeing as how roses are nonexistent here, you can see why I'd care to keep these alive and well."

The guard smiled a knowing smile. He had a nick across his nose, courtesy of the person he was talking to.

"It's alright to like a gift you've been given, you know. Especially if you like the person that gave it to you even more."

"I don't—Oh, never mind..."

Morai's face grew even more red and she huffed before scrambling back inside. Her carrying the flowers seemed to amuse the guards.

"What?" she growled. "Haven't you seen flowers before? Can't a criminal cultivate some plant life without being judged?"

Morai walked quickly to her room, but she realized that there was no source of light. The room was very dimly lit, just how she liked it. She would've had it completely dark if not for Sheridan's insistence that it was dangerous to keep it that way. Dangerous to the staff, that is.

"Oh, now that just won't do," she sighed. "You'll die without light."

She looked at the collection of roses and her thoughtful frown deepened.

"Everyone insists that I'm the same way," she said to the flowers, running her finger along their petals. There wasn't much of a chance to interact with anything other than the cold stone architecture of the cathedral, much less something alive...aside from people, that is. But if she couldn't hypnotize, terrorize or taunt anyone, what was the point?

"...Am I wilting, too?" she whispered. "Why can't I just remain like this? Why is that so bad?"

Morai got up from her bed and returned to the hallway, pot of flowers in hand. She was again met with smiles from the guards, all of whom had taken great amusement in her actions. As with asking Maria to tea, it seemed that any simple innocent action amidst the waves of cruelty and blood Morai left behind was something to be amused by.

"These won't survive my dark room," she said flatly. "Please give them back to Maria."

"What?" a guard said, his smile turning to an intensely serious expression. "No, you can't do that!"

"Do what?" Morai asked.

"Return a gift! That's rude!" someone else chimed in. "Actually, you should give her a gift."

"Oh sure," Morai scoffed, folding her arms. "Do you think she'd like an old brick? That's about all I have, seeing as how I'm, you know, in prison."

"That's not true!" a third person said. "You could...well...let's see..."

"I'd say just give her your company and be yourself, but you shouldn't do that either. Be yourself, I mean. Then she'd just end up bleeding out on the—"

"Carl!" everyone else collectively interjected. Carl threw his hands in the air.

"You'll come up with something. Just think about it," the first guard said. "In the meantime, that spot right there should be fine."

The man pointed to a wooden bench in front of a stained glass window and Morai set the pot down. To her surprise, she yawned. The bit of sleep she had just gotten didn't seem to be enough to make up for the energy she had used trying to escape and getting forcefully put to sleep, which only made her drowsier. She decided to put her garden remodeling plans off until the next day—or the next time she woke up—and go back to sleep. According to Ms. Lochlynn, it was after 3 in the morning anyway.

Why was Maria here so late? Does she stay here somewhere?

When Morai went to sleep she found herself in complete darkness, and it took a moment for her senses to adjust. As soon as they did, however, the sound of bloodcurdling agonized screams drowned out every other sense. It made even Morai cover her ears as it sent chills down her spine, raising every hair on the back of her neck.

"What did you do? What did you do!"

The sound was nearly unbearable. It was the sound of ultimate agony. It evoked some small amount of sympathy even in the one whose heart had been frozen over.

"What did you do?!" the distant voice echoed again. "It hurts! I can't see!"

Morai's own eyes shot open. As she stopped to listen, the throat-burning screams of agony between sobs of confusion and sorrow began to sound familiar, and the sound of footsteps rang through the hallway leading to the room she was in. The Mask Maker readied herself, but she felt something that usually never made it into her mind: fear. Her stomach lurched and turned, and her feet felt heavy. Something seemed to have taken her breath away.

"Someone, please answer me!"

That voice...it's...it's...

"Please!"

The figure stumbled through the stone threshold of the large and desolate room. She was using her hands to feel the environment around her, but her face was contorted in confusion and fear.

It was Morai.

"Light Morai..." Morai whispered. "Hey, you!" she called.

Light Morai, with hair so long it nearly reached the floor, snapped her head toward the sound of her counterpart's voice.

"Hello?" she called, her voice barely able to smoothly communicate one word through sniffles and choppy breath.

"Over here," Morai said. "Or I'll just come to you."

Morai approached her counterpart, who was experiencing the same fear that she had, except it was many times worse. Morai could sense it with her own psychic power, and it seemed to make her own hands cold and sweaty. She reached a hand out to the trembling young trainer and she flinched.

"Why do you sound like me?" the past version of Light Morai asked.

"Well...I am you," Morai answered. She looked at the face of her counterpart. The long vertical scar that went down each eye looked fresh and painful. Even though no color remained in her eyes, Morai could see Light Morai's terror and confusion.

"I don't understand," Light Morai sobbed. "I don't understand anything! What's going on? What happened? Everything's dark and it hurts! My psychic power is gone!"

"It's alright," Morai said, putting a hand on her counterpart's shoulder. "You...they hurt you," she stammered. Light Morai looked blankly in her direction with furrowed eyebrows, her hands reaching out to hold her face.

"I've met you before," Morai continued softly. "In fact, though I hardly remember it, you were the very first person that I met in my dreams. You didn't say much about your backstory, but you hinted that you were blinded by a group who wanted to get rid of your psychic power...I'm guessing that this is the day it happened."

Light Morai gasped, feeling her own face and running her fingers over her wounds. She sat there for a moment before breaking into tears again. Morai hesitantly put a finger to her counterpart's forehead.

"I wonder if I could calm—"

"Ouch!" Light Morai screamed, backing away. "What was that?"

"Sorry," Morai sighed. "I though I could try something to help, but I don't have the capacity for it."

Past Morai could do it.

Light Morai had sat herself down onto the cold floor, her head in her hands.

"My power...it's all gone. They took it. What am I, if not Morai the psychic? Am I not Morai any longer?"

"Morai," Morai called. Her counterpart looked up, still sniffling and shaking.

"This is a dream memory of some sort, and I don't think you're real, but I'll tell you this anyway," she said. "You don't lose your psychic power. It's still in your brain. You adapt and learn new abilities, which are much more complicated than any I know. You literally see from others' point of view, which makes you more understanding and wise. You wield a powerful spirit and fighting ability that your polar twin struggles to best. You become one of the best psychic trainers and fighters I know, rivaled only by myself...who is also you."

And then your soul becomes cast in stone because I didn't listen to you.

"...Really?" Light Morai asked.

"It's true."

Morai took her counterpart's hand and helped her up.

"Everything will be alright?"

"More than alright," Morai said. Light Morai wrapped her arms around her counterpart and rested her head on her chest. It wasn't something Morai was used to at all, but she didn't object.

"I can hear your heart," Light Morai said. "Thank you."

As Morai hesitantly put her arms around this strange past fragment of her soul, it faded away. Within seconds Light Morai was no more, vanishing and becoming one again with whatever made up the Dream Realm.

"My, my," Nightmare Morai said, appearing from the same dusty substance Light Morai had disappeared to in the room. "You really are growing soft...and weak."

"She's my sister," Morai said. "Well, in a way. She's a part of me. I might not have heeded Light Morai's opinions, but I still honor her as a powerful fighter and wielder of the abilities I can't posses. I take it I'm in the Outlands given that you're here."

"You're correct," Nightmare Morai said, clasping her hands behind her back and circling her true counterpart. "And I'm here to tell you once again that you are treading dangerous grounds. If the International Police see you growing soft, they'll take the first opportunity to strike you down and mold you to their will. The more you give, they more freedom they'll take until you are completely robbed of your power. Is that not your greatest fear?"

Morai frowned. Her Outlands self had a point. Nightmare Morai drew a syringe full of black liquid from her vest and Morai recoiled.

"See, they're already on their way to controlling you," the dream figure chuckled. "Are you going to let that happen?"

"No," Morai said sternly. "I'm going to escape."

Nightmare Morai began to approach her counterpart with the serum and Morai tried to strike her with her claws. She was surprised to find that her hand went right through.

"If I can't touch you, you can't touch me, so back off," she said. Her counterpart smiled and did the same move with her free hand, leaving Morai's arm with a nasty wound.

"Are you sure about that?" she asked with a malicious grin. "Seeing as how I'm simply a figment of dreams and not a true part of your soul like, say, Shadow Morai is, I have no true flesh and blood. I can take a physical form at will, but I'm as fleeting as the drifting sands upon the beach."

Nightmare Morai backed Morai against the wall, holding the syringe so close to her neck that breathing fully became a struggle.

"Still so unknowing," she taunted, leaning in beside her ear. "Your entire purpose—your power, is being threatened. What are you going to do about it?" she whispered.

"I—I have to find a way to subvert the effects of the serum," Morai stammered. "Make them believe I'm going to Alola without my psychic power and save it for when the opportunity to escape presents itself."

"And how will you do that?"

"...I'll have to figure it out."

"You'd better," her counterpart answered as she faded away into dust. Just like that, Morai found herself alone again in the big and empty room.