Chapter 112 – From a Flower

One last Hydro Pump for good measure, and Zena was certain that she'd warded Dark Matter away. With an angry huff and a defiant glare, she slithered only a little away from the tree that Owen had become to make sure the false Goodra was truly leaving town.

Zena searched the roots for any flowers that happened to be staring at her. Unfortunately, there were none, and instead she checked to make sure that everyone else was okay. Eon had been reduced to a puddle of pink slime, but his bubbling suggested he was alive.

She tried to help him up. "…And you're okay?"

"Never better," Eon groaned. At least, she thought it was a groan. She wasn't even sure where his head was supposed to be. "Where did… Dark Matter go?"

"Away. I fought him off."

"How?" Eon drew out the question, as if both exhausted and truly befuddled.

"I'm… not sure, but I think the tree that Owen became is giving off an… energy that weakens him. But not enough that we could actually beat him. Only fend him off."

"That's good, at least." Eon bubbled some more. "I'm going to sleep."

"Right there?" Zena asked, but she never received a reply. Frowning, the Milotic turned her attention back to the tree, which was unresponsive. She still had a weak sense of his presence. He was there, safe.

She closed her eyes, finally feeling relaxed enough to doze off herself. Or, perhaps, she'd been so tired fending Dark Matter off that there was little else she could do. A few others came by soon to check on things—first, Gahi, who said that Mhynt was no longer someone that they had to worry about. That was a relief. Had he defeated her? Maybe he was stronger than she'd given him credit.

"So, eh, you gonna stay here?" Gahi asked.

"Mm, I think I am. Someone needs to guard Owen, just in case."

"Right, yeah… He ain't answerin', but I feel'm in there. Maybe he's sleepin'."

"That's what I think. And what of Palkia? Or the other Legends?"

"He's with Dialga. Keeping hidden."

"Good. We actually have some calm for once." Zena sighed. "Still, I'm nervous. Are you sure Mhynt is taken care of?"

"Pinned to the tree by her own blade." Gahi brought his fists to his side proudly. "The Unown that took care o' my body did it to 'er. She's done fer a while. Told me 'mselves."

"What's 'a while' here?" Zena probed.

"Ehh…" Gahi rubbed his nose, turning around so nobody could see his face. "Couple o' days."

Zena glared. "What is a day here, Gahi?"

"A few sleeps, I dunno! Hey, wait!" Gahi whirled around and pointed skyward. "We c'n tell now! Bah! What's a day, we got days now!"

"It looks like night to me." Zena squinted at the shimmering leaves. They were bright on their own, but past them, the sea of stars was surrounded not by a black void, but a deep, deep blue. "Oh… oh, goodness, you're right…"

"Heh. Told ya." Gahi grinned again, flicking his tail a few times.

"The sky… it's really becoming the sky."

Apparently, word had spread. Pokémon were gathering around the tree's perimeter, climbing rooftops, perching on the branches… Zena and Gahi made a point to ward off anybody who tried getting too close to the trunk itself, but nothing stopped them from staring skyward.

Some Pokémon were crying. Some seemed fearful, despite its distant, faraway familiarity. There were a few who wailed openly, like they'd simply remembered something they'd missed for so long. It was bizarre to see… but, Zena thought, she'd only been there for a moon at most. Would she have been the same, being trapped in the Voidlands for centuries… or longer?

Suddenly, another Pokémon cried out, pointing at the very edge of the swirling vortex of clouds. At first, Zena wasn't sure what they were talking about, but everyone's eyes were suddenly on that edge.

It occurred to Zena that they were staring at a golden glow that dissolved some of the gray clouds. Yes, that had to be… sunlight. Sunlight, of course!

Second after agonizing second, that golden glow became larger, and it was like the whole village had stopped. The streets were a sea of Pokémon, neighbors sitting on their rooftops side by side. In particular, several good Pokémon were helping the Grass and other plant-like Pokémon to the rooftops, where they felt the warmth of the sun for the first time in generations.

Now, Zena thought, perhaps she understood a small amount of what it all meant to them. That warmth… She never realized how much she'd missed it. All that time in caves, alone or in Hot Spot, she should have spent more time appreciating it.

"Oi!" Gahi shouted, waving someone down. Not long after, Demitri and Mispy arrived, along with Jerry and Enet, the latter riding on Mispy's back. "Was wonderin' where yeh went."

"Got lost in the crowd," Demitri said. "How's Owen?"

Enet hopped off Demitri's back and sniffed at the roots, looking concerned.

"He's been quiet, but I don't think he's stressed," Zena said. "Maybe he's sleeping?"

"Aura seems calm enough fer that…" Gahi's left antenna flicked.

Quietly, they accompanied Owen—whether he was conscious or not—as Null Village experienced daybreak for perhaps the first time.

Something about Kilo Village had become strange in the past few days. Usually, the Pokémon that lived there were some of the best of the best in their field, so there were going to be a few eccentrics among them. Typically, the civilians that lived there evened it out. But recently, he'd been seeing stranger and stranger things.

Next to Angelo was an Aggron, perfectly alive, perfectly aware, yet made completely of ice. He could see right through her, little clouds of something flowing within her body like sand on the shoreline. They were apparently spirits. How terrifying… They just allowed this? A soul-catcher living among them like some friendly demon? And yet now, she was a known and normal resident.

"Smeargle."

Angelo yipped and straightened his back. Oh, gods, she noticed. "Y-yes, ma'am!"

"Is something bothering you?"

"No! I was just… um… passing the time."

"You are the one Rhys spoke of. I am Step."

Gods, her stare was intense. Maybe it was because they had no color. Or that she didn't blink. Outside, in the middle of a walkway, with the sun glimmering on her brilliant body… It would be good inspiration for Druddigon Cube, at least.

"Um, I might be? I'm Angelo. I'm an artist. I—I know, not a very surprising profession, er, um…"

The Aggron's unblinking, icy gaze didn't let up.

Angelo tried to look smaller and smaller until someone poked him in the thigh. "Ah! O-oh, it's you."

"Gyeugh." The strange wraith-like companion had an apple balanced on its… head, he assumed. Three of its eyes stared at him expectantly.

"Thank you." After his first bite, he gave a nervous smile to the icy Aggron. "Um, and who are you? I've seen you take up the front lines with those… other Pokémon. That Porygon-Z, the Joltik with fairy wings, and that metal Machoke."

"Mm. Guardians." She looked down, finally closing her eyes. Angelo didn't like that he could still see them through the translucent lids.

Nate's wraith, whom Angelo had decided to call Shady, worriedly slid closer to him.

"I actually was sent to get you," Step said. "We can use your help."

"Oh. You don't say." Angelo's shoulders sagged. "What for this time?"

Aggron regarded Angelo with a judgmental stare. "You do not have strength, but you have utility. We are making preparations for the assault on Hot Spot."

"I—I'm not interested in fighting at the front, or getting involved in any of that," Angelo replied immediately. "Sorry. I'm just an artist."

"You will not be at the front. But you will come with me. Understood?"

It wasn't ever his choice, was it?

"Y-yes, ma'am…"

Step showed him the way into parts of the Hearts HQ that he had once hoped to never see. The very back of Kilo Village, the administrative halls, the place with all the records and archives and offices… Trails of red paint were faded on the ground, and soft lavender walls against the tanned stone made for a soft, lighthearted atmosphere.

It only sickened him further. It reminded him of Anam, how horribly intimidating he was, how Angelo never learned what happened to his grandfather, how his father had worked himself to death for him…

And now he was walking the same halls. Funny, that.

The atmosphere was different without Anam, though. The goo-covered books had been cleaned up to a more usable state, yet Angelo noticed to his horror that all the shavings had been piled up and kept in the corner of the office space, next to the stagnant pond in the back of the room. Some of the water had evaporated, leaving a few inches of darkened soil where it had once been filled. Or perhaps that was just the room left for when Anam sank his body into it. Disgusting…

"Angelo," Rhys greeted, sitting behind the desk that was thankfully cleaner. "Thank you for coming all this way. We are currently strategizing our teams and arrangements for the Hot Spot assault."

"Er, um, I'm not entirely aware of that. Any of it. I, that is, I'm just an artist. I don't really do combat."

Rhys' brow furrowed. "You trained under Elite Heart Angelo, your father, did you not?"

"I did, y-yes. I know his techniques, yes. But I don't have his skill."

Silence followed where Rhys only stared, and Angelo wondered if he was reading his aura, or his mind, or whatever this apparently-immortal Lucario was capable of.

"Sir," Angelo added to try to break the silence, but it only piled on thicker.

"I see." Rhys nodded. "Well… If that is the case, perhaps some training is in order to gauge how strong you are. You will not need to be in the front lines, no. But, perhaps as support, you will be very useful with the plethora of techniques you have. Angelo, you understand the talent there is behind being able to call upon so many different techniques at will, yes? Typically, Pokémon can only rapidly channel energy for a few attacks."

"I—I know. I know, my aura has that property about it, but…"

"It's known as Mew's Blessing. And it's particularly strong in you."

"I know, I… Yes. Yes, I understand." Angelo deflated. "I understand."

The icy Aggron was glaring at him, but Rhys' eyes softened. "What is holding you back from helping?" the Elite Lucario asked. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

His immediate thought was how he could possibly and rightfully refuse this offer. How could he say, to an Elite Heart requesting help, that he simply did not want to? That he had tried to escape this sort of life by dedicating himself to the arts, to things that didn't involve violence and bodily risk? That he didn't want to work for the same organization that kept hidden so many little secrets?

And the secrets they held! Immortal demigods, seals of darkness, what was next? For all he knew, the wraith that followed him around—they called him Nate, or his 'spirits,' like he somehow had a name—was another secret they were keeping hidden.

But… it was also Rhys. He'd spent his life—several lives' worth of years, then—keeping Kilo safe from mutants and whatever other shadow threats there were. And this was the greatest threat yet. No matter how scared he was… wasn't he obligated to do this?

Why, then, did every cell in his body scream at him to back down?

"I… I suppose I am just…"

Scared. Lazy. Conflicted. Resentful. Tired.

"Unsure of… my specific purpose, if I will not be at the front. Which—which I'm not strong for, again, I want to emphasize…"

"Yes. I understand." Rhys nodded, though his gaze had changed slightly. "You won't need to battle head-on against Dark Matter. Support will do just fine. And to see what you can do, perhaps some training?"

Same question and it was even harder to refuse. Had he even refused the first time? He'd been so feeble. Always being pushed this way and that. That wraith was pressing against his leg again and he glanced down.

"Gygh."

The wraith was right. Why was he listening to them so much? Was he going to be at his best? Maybe he should say no. Ask for better terms. They didn't… have authority to compel him to this, did he? Would he have to run away as some kind of fugitive if that were the case? No, no, he couldn't have that. That would take him even further from his art.

"Yes. Just to find out what I can do. I'm… not familiar with the battlefield anymore. I didn't really intend to ever become familiar again. Not ever since my father… died." Worked to death by the Hearts. Worked until he'd been estranged from his mate. Worked until that was all he knew. All because of his power. And then one day he died in the line of duty.

"Ah, I'm sorry," Rhys said gently, nodding, but he was still formal. He probably didn't care. He just wanted an affirmative.

He hated it here. Anything to get out sooner. "When can I expect to go for training?" Angelo asked.

"Tomorrow," Rhys said. "Why don't we meet just before the sun's apex?"

"Okay." He straightened his posture. "Is that, erm, is that all?"

"Well, one more thing," Rhys said. "Really, if you do need rest, it's quite alright, Angelo. We understand that you are not one for battle."

Why did that hurt so much? "No, no, it's fine," Angelo said quickly. "I—apex, sun. Tomorrow." Hastily, he turned to leave. Rhys said something, sounded like a goodbye, but Angelo didn't hear the details when he shut the door behind him and fast-walked toward home. His wraith barely kept up.

Angelo made it all the way to the central crossroads in silence before the wraith bumped into him again. "Ah!" He spun around, frowning. "What is it this time?" he asked, apologetic instantly afterward when he realized he'd been rude.

"Ggrss…"

"I'm fine, really," Angelo said. "I've just been a little overwhelmed. I'm not a Heart, after all. In fact, I'd avoided it. I just want to draw the next chapter of Druddigon Cube and then maybe do a quick commission or two that's on my backlog…"

"Hhrh?"

"What? Well, I suppose they're two different kinds of art. One is a long-term project, but I do still like diversifying…"

"Rrrw."

"No, it's hardly overworking. I… Overworking is becoming a Heart. No matter how much art I do, I'll never work that much."

"Mmg." The wraith bobbed and slid purposefully east.

"Er—wait! Where to?!" Angelo chased after him anyway. He ran past a few people—Spice and Leo were recognized faces. Spice was showing off her black Protect to the others, who seemed puzzled and fascinated by it. Further down the road, that Fairy Joltik was chasing down a tiny, terrified Manectric and Crobat with a frantic Porygon-Z just behind her. Perhaps trying to stop her.

But eventually, Shady led Angelo to the very edge of town, where there was a noticeable incline as the crater of Kilo Mountain transitioned into the wall that surrounded the whole settlement. Not as many Pokémon traveled here anymore. Mostly because of… that.

Looming over the crater was a five-headed leviathan. Each head was triangular and faceless, each one connecting to what almost resembled a blackened palm. This shadowy thing was supposedly the source of all the wraiths, and, while friendly, was still so massive that it curled around part of Kilo Mountain. Practically floated there.

And he had the most mundane name—Nate.

"Oh. You want me to… see your, er… leader?"

The five heads and many, many eyes that dotted its body seemed to be staring at him and only him. He was the only normal Pokémon in the area. Did this thing count as a Pokémon at all?

"Er… hello."

Hello.

The voice rattled in his mind. He shuddered, trying to block it out. So loud, yet his ears did not hear the voice. It was sent directly to his mind. He heard countless voices accompanying the main one, all little whispers and murmurs. Many of them were in-step with the main voice, but several were saying accompanying, little thoughts. Different ways of saying hello. Some even sounded like feral growls.

"Did you… need me for something? Your friend here has been, uh, keeping me company during these… trying times… and…"

He didn't even know which head to look at, or which set of eyes. This was all so bizarre.

I was worried about you.

"Oh. Um." He wasn't expecting such a fatherly tone there. Or motherly? He couldn't tell. "Thanks, but… I'll be fine."

Are you sure?

"Yes! I am. I'm being a hero. Just like the comics I write. A-aha…"

One of the five heads seemed to be frowning at him, but that couldn't be. It didn't even have lips. Its face was a prism.

"Okay, fine, maybe I'm a little nervous, but—but can you blame me? The Hearts… I never wanted to be part of the Hearts. And look at me now!"

A few of the many eyes blinked sympathetically, while the leftmost head nodded slowly. It's too bad that happened to you, he said. Why are you so nervous about the Hearts? They seem like good Pokémon.

"They are, of course they are, but it isn't my line of work. My father and my grandfather both died while working with the Hearts, and I'm just not interested in that kind of job mortality."

You come from a line of Smeargle?

Angelo nodded. "Bit of a family tradition to keep the species," he said shamefully. "All to preserve Mew's Blessing."

The leviathan was silent, attentive. It was a little intimidating, actually. Why were they—it—he?—all staring…

"Ah, I'm sorry. Mew's Blessing is what my father called it. Pokémon normally can only quickly conjure a few techniques at once, and anything else takes some time to channel. And while Pokémon can change which ones they can quickly do… well, I simply don't have that limitation. But I, well, I never practiced it. Not like my father, or his father."

You're that Smeargle Angelo…

"Er, no, I, well… My father is the famous one. And my grandfather before him, except he… er… well, one day word about him just stopped. He died in the line of duty. The manner of his death was… a mystery. N-now, I'm not one for conspiracies, so I do not think the Hearts killed them—"

They didn't.

"Yes, that's what I thought," Angelo said. "It must have simply been part of a top secret mission, or—I'm sorry, you said that with such certainty. Do you know what happened?"

Nate stared.

"If it's… classified, I understand…" He didn't understand how something like Nate could be privy to classified information, but he at least understood the concept of secrets.

You should stay away from this Dark Matter fight, Nate said. Otherwise, you'll follow where your grandfather went.

"I, er, I'm sorry, I'm not very religious. Where exactly has he gone?"

…Didn't Arceus visit recently?

"Right. I used to not be very religious." Angelo sighed. "But where did my grandfather… go?"

He went to Void Basin.

"Void… Basin. That's where Spice's team will be investigating soon." Angelo grabbed his tail, toying with the brush-end nervously. "It's supposedly restricted only for Hearts to enter and was dubbed inhospitable, so only outlaws would go there. But from afar, there doesn't seem to be anyone there."

There usually isn't. It's cursed. If you go too close, or stay for too long, a dark aura corrupts you. You become a… beast. And then you become something even less.

"M-my grandfather went there? Did he…?"

I'm sorry.

Everything else seemed to go dark. He heard his own breathing. His ears rang. Numbness spread through his mind, but not his body, or at least, he didn't think it was. He wasn't sure when, but Angelo eventually realized that he had been sitting down, collapsed, like his legs had stopped obeying his will to stand. Or did he want to stand?

Could Nate be lying?

It was such a feeble, defiant thought, that Nate was lying. But why would he lie?

Dumbly, Angelo accepted it as the truth. There was no reason for Nate to lie about this. All the conspiracies, how many were actually true?

"What a world…" Angelo's voice was a whisper. Nate surely didn't hear it. He couldn't even find it in him to cry. It was all cold. He could have been there all afternoon.

Nate didn't say anything. His many eyes stared, most of them looking somber. This leviathan was one of the few people who was so openly honest and caring. Why wouldn't the Hearts tell him this? It would at least give him closure. But then again… if his grandfather had become a beast, what did that mean? Was he still wandering the world as one? Or 'something less?'

Finally, Angelo scrounged up the energy to speak, this time loud enough for Nate to hear. "My father. He, he died the same way. I-is he a beast, too?"

No. Your father is fine.

His heart skipped a beat. A flickering ember of energy returned to his eyes. "He's alive?"

Oh. No. He's dead. I'm sorry.

"Oh." Fire extinguished. "Dead, right. So that's still true."

I killed him. I'm sorry.

"Ha."

He couldn't stop it. The single, empty, dry, dead laugh, one that could have carried all the way across whatever aether his father had passed through. Had he heard that right? A thousand images flashes in his mind as he envisioned what that could mean. Vaporized by one of the leviathan's blasts? Crushed by any single part of its body? Or just eaten outright?

"So you did. Ha ha… you… murdered my father… then? Ha ha…" He was dreaming, certainly. All of this was one great, surreal nightmare. His father, killed by the town's evil-eyed savior.

Overwhelmed tears begged for release but Angelo refused. He didn't know why. Shame, perhaps. What little shame he had left.

I had to. Nate seemed to fidget. He was going to the basin because he thought he saw his father. He would have become another victim. I tried to stop him, but he was already half-gone. I had to take him away.

He tried to keep a level head. This monster killed his father, because he'd investigated the Basin. But his death was classified in the same way, only it hurt more because Angelo was closer to him. Maybe the Hearts were keeping an eye on him because he might die the same way. If Nate killed his father, then he could easily kill him the same way.

Following the wraith was a mistake.

"I—I need to go," Angelo said. Finally his legs obeyed, and he stood.

Okay. I'm sorry, again.

"Is he—you said he was fine. What does that mean? How can you be fine if you're dead?"

The Void Basin is worse.

"What does that mean?" Angelo blew at the flames of his will, making some little spark to keep talking. He wanted to yell, but it only came across as a trembling whimper. "How do you become… less than a beast? What… is that?"

Three of the five heads seemed to clench their jaws, or what might have been jaws. The many eyes of the thing were avoiding his. Angelo tried to get an answer from the wraith, but of course it said nothing, and in fact seemed to be sliding away.

Maybe this was why the Hearts never told him. The truth was worse. Now he knew that his father was killed by this… thing, and—his grandfather was worse than dead. "I—I need to go."

I'm sorry…

"Enough, just… enough." Angelo couldn't believe he was walking away. Even harder to believe was that Nate let him. Maybe he was good. But this was too much. He didn't want to talk. He just wanted to sleep. Maybe when he woke up, it would make more sense. Maybe at least some of this would make sense…

What was wrong with just staying home to forget the world?

Warm, cozy, soft darkness surrounded Owen from all sides. He couldn't breathe, but he felt that he didn't need to. Everything had a lingering, sweet taste. He couldn't see, but for some reason that did not set off his instincts. Everything else felt too safe. Against his back was some kind of membrane, and all around him felt cramped, forcing him to curl up tight. But he didn't really mind. Everything was peaceful and hazy.

Slowly, memories returned to him. Null Village. The attack on Hot Spot. And, further back, his time as a Guardian, and before, a Heart. A mutant. And then… there was a strange blackness that he knew was an absence, but he could not yet fill it. A long, long darkness followed, before his memories of Orre, then Almia, then Kanto, the lab, his parents…

It was just one gap. His once spotty, confusing memory only had one true gap remaining. And while it was the largest void yet, it was also singular, and parts of it were already filling in. His time with Legends. His time during Kilo's beginning.

Quartz Island became Kilo after a great calamity had destroyed it.

Kanto still existed. His home still existed. He did not know why, but that feeling was so strong within him. He knew it to be true.

Was that what Eon had been fighting for all this time? To return home?

Was it still the same Kanto…? How much time had passed? How much was kept hidden away by a Divine Decree?

So cozy… Owen felt himself drifting off again. He let it happen. After everything he'd gone through, he didn't mind it. He felt he wouldn't mind if that was all he did for the rest of his life. A good rest in cozy darkness as all his thoughts drifted away.

Though… he did worry about the others. They were probably waiting for him. A lot of people were.

No, he couldn't rest. Not forever. Owen had a sinking feeling that the world wouldn't carry on without him, and that burden… He didn't think anybody should ever be put in that situation. Yet there he was.

More time passed. He wasn't sure how long it had been. Minutes? Hours? Days? His legs twitched.

Legs. Right, he used to have legs. After all this time, it occurred to him that his limbs had returned. He tried to open his eyes, but nothing greeted his vision. So, he closed them again and drifted…

Most of his vision was green and he was weightless. He drifted forward and pressed his tiny, tiny paw against a smooth surface. On the opposite side he saw a star-shaped figure staring back at him. It had a huge head compared to the rest of its small body, with three points going left, right, and up.

"Hey, Owen. Do you remember me?"

Owen stared dumbly. That name sounded familiar. He didn't understand the words, though. Or, he did, but it was fleeting. He liked this person, though, whoever he was. So he smiled a little, and the floating star on the other side beamed.

"I'm so glad… I thought I'd lost you. Don't worry. You'll be out of there soon, and we can talk all about it."

His voice was really muffled. Owen smiled again and pressed his forehead against the glass, but a weak force pulled him away. The star-shaped creature laughed.

A deeper voice called from the opposite side. "Jirachi. How is he?"

"He remembers me, Xerneas!"

"…He does? That's a surprise. The way I brought him back… his brain shouldn't hold any memories at all. I told you this."

"Turns out you're wrong, and we don't need any Psychics to fix it at all!"

"Well, good, because I didn't get any." Xerneas snorted. "We're trying to keep this covert. I'm telling you, this is a big risk…"

"Don't go calling Yveltal now," Jirachi growled.

"Please. She would never, even if I told her what happened. You know how she is."

The rest of their conversation faded away…

Another sleep, another memory, and another round of floating in nothing. Except this time was different. That felt like a new memory from the last gap. And Owen knew what he was floating in this time. That was Eon's Reincarnation Machine… An early version. One that couldn't preserve memories? Right, because it made an entirely new body and that was all. Only by tapping into the spirit could old memories of old lives be reawakened. That was what was happening to him, now, wasn't it?

Why was it made? Owen couldn't remember.

It wasn't total darkness anymore. And it felt warmer, too. Like sunlight, but that couldn't be why. It felt like it was above him, though, and he heard dull chatter of other Pokémon. He tried to listen in…

"I'm gonna touch it."

"No, don't touch it! What if it's important?!"

"I'm gonna do it!"

"Hey!" This third voice was coming from far below. It sounded like Zena. "What are you doing?"

"Gah! See? Let's get outta here!"

Two pairs of wings flapped and faded away. About a minute later, just as Owen was getting more comfortable, a much larger set of wings landed on something next to him, and Owen's whole world shook.

"Huh."

Jerry?

"It's a fruit!" Jerry called to someone.

"A fruit? On the tree?" Zena called back.

What were they talking about? After so much quiet, Owen was intensely curious. He tried to move.

"Guh! It's moving!"

"Moving? How do you mean?"

"I mean it's—"

Everything shook, and suddenly Owen wanted to scream, but couldn't. He was falling from somewhere high up. Lights flickered around him through an opaque wall, and then a dark shadow loomed over him. An intense, sharp pressure wrapped around him and his fall slowed. Jerry, muttering a few more curses, continued the descent until Owen felt he was on solid ground again.

"What an odd fruit. I've never seen anything like it."

By now, Owen knew what had happened, and he wondered if he could undo it to avoid the humiliation. No, it was probably too late.

"I sense Owen's aura inside," Zena said hopefully. "Owen? Are you… in there?"

Now, he had two choices. He could either pretend to be dead and avoid this. Or he could be honest and try to move.

"Owen?"

Why me? Reluctantly, he wiggled and pressed against the outside of the fruit that had become some kind of egg.

"Owen, wiggle twice if you hear us."

It was muffled, so he wondered if he should wiggle once and a half, but he complied.

"Let's get him to the others," Zena said, and then Owen felt the pressure of her ribbons around him.

Complicated feelings filled his head. He liked that. But he also didn't.

Demitri and Mispy sat in the same room as Dialga and Palkia, in one of the large evaluation buildings, mostly out of standard procedure than anything at this point. Dialga was reading a book; Palkia was studying the mechanisms of the refrigerator. There wasn't a lot for them to do while everyone gathered their bearings and figured out how to restore Owen, and they'd decided to take a break hanging out with some Legends that Owen apparently once knew.

"Dialga," Palkia said, "who do you suppose is more flexible between the two of us?"

Zena knocked on their door. "We found Owen!"

"Owen?!" Mispy jolted upright. Demitri stood on his feet.

"…Let's revisit that topic later," Dialga said. "Come in!"

The door opened; Zena entered first, followed by Jerry and another Milotic. Dialga assumed it was Eon. That was odd. Usually, he was a Charmander. Perhaps whatever Zena did was so striking that he'd taken on her form next.

Demitri ran over; Mispy followed behind. She was at a loss for words. Owen became a tree, so did they find a way to turn him back to normal?

But then Zena held what looked like some kind of black-and-white lump. It reminded her of those really expensive berries that were apparently hard to find, let alone grow. Enigma Berries? They were too spicy for her, but she imagined Owen would like them.

But then it moved, like the outer skin was soft, and something was stirring inside. Mispy gasped and focused her aura sense.

Clear as day, it was Owen, curled up, tiny, but alive. He seemed to be listening to them. Something about his aura was different, though. Weaker, but stable, and a tinge of… There was a color to it that she couldn't place. Golden?

The others were conversing and debating what to do. "He's alive," Mispy said, pointing a vine. "Let him out."

"H-he is? Are you sure?" Zena asked. "I'm… a bit worried it's an egg."

Mispy hummed. That was true, but the aura inside was already solid and ready. Eggs usually needed time before they were ready to hatch, but this was the aura of someone either about to hatch or already hatched.

"It's fine," Mispy confirmed.

"Well, Owen? Did you hear that? Try to, er, break out on your own…"

The aura inside was hesitating, but it didn't seem distressed. In fact, it seemed cozy. It was a lazy feeling. Mispy, frowning in disapproval, balled up one of her vines and readied to thrash the thing. That'd wake him up. But before she could, Zena gave her an icy glare. "If he doesn't want to come out, he doesn't have to."

"He's being lazy."

The aura spiked, like it'd been caught trying to steal from storage at night.

"Lazy, what do you mean, lazy?" Zena frowned, then looked at the black-white fruit. "Owen wouldn't stay in there if he knew we needed him."

But before Mispy could press the issue, Owen shifted around in the fruit and seemed to sigh, or some equivalent while inside. He stretched and prodded at the edges of the container, finally making a puncture.

"Ah!" Zena set the fruit down.

"Do we, uh, do we help?" Demitri asked.

The inside was green, and out came a dark, green arm to match. It tore open, spilling fruit juice all over, and revealing Owen, with olive-colored feathers on his front and fussy, leafy ones everywhere else. The end of his tail transitioned into an autumn-colored leaf to match the season of Kilo—assuming it was still autumn—and it resembled a flame.

The Grassmander hacked and coughed even more of that green fluid, taking deep, raspy breaths before coughing even more. Dialga watched with disgust; Palkia had to be warded off by Eon and Zena so he didn't poke and prod Owen for study.

"Owen?" Mispy asked, leaning forward. "…You hatched?"

"Don't call it that." Owen wheezed, and then another round of coughing kept him from saying anything more.

"We should get him washed up," Demitri said. "And maybe a blanket so he stays warm?"

Owen was already trembling. Mispy wondered if that was an odd feeling for him—as a Fire, he probably rarely got cold. But now, not so much.

Now that Mispy thought about it, Owen was much smaller, perhaps only a foot in height. She had to admit—internally, never externally—that it was a little cute.

They helped Owen to one of the strange water-dispensing facilities. They made sure to set the water to warm so they didn't shock him into the heat. Zena took the liberty of using her ribbons to wipe off most of the fruit, which was starting to get sticky in some places, while Eon and Demitri helped clean the mess left on the floor. Jerry, meanwhile, departed to find Trina, Gahi, and Enet, who had gone on a stroll through town.

"Owen, are you feeling okay?" Zena asked. Mispy wondered that, too. There was a distant look in Owen's eyes. Definitely thinking about something. Mispy had shades of that in his aura before, but now it was very strong. What was going on in his head? It seemed to be a deep conflict…

Did he remember something?

"Yeah, I'm okay," he said, but his tone was off. "Actually, when I'm… feeling better, or, back to normal or close to it, is it alright if you take me somewhere?"

Mispy didn't like where this was going.

"Of course," Zena said. "Where?"

"West of town."

"Why?" Mispy asked before Zena could agree.

Owen looked at Mispy pleadingly, but she didn't soften her glare.

"You trust me, right?" Owen said. "So, when I say why… it's just my reasoning."

Definitely wasn't going to like what he was about to say.

"Go on," Mispy said cautiously.

"I want to see Dark Matter."