Chapter 155 – Remember, Move On

A Charmeleon of leafy green feathers awoke in a forest, dazed and groggy.

He groaned and rubbed his head, trying to sit up, but the dizziness left him falling forward instead.

"Ugh…"

Leaning on his hands, he propped himself up, took a few breaths, and sat up again. Steady, steady… He felt oriented enough to try standing.

"What happened?" he murmured. "Hello? Anyone?"

Nothing. Just forest. He looked up—where was the sky?

Just a black void. Not even clouds or stars. Why, then, was the forest so well-lit? Where was his shadow? He tried to find a light source, but nothing made sense. Nothing looked real.

What happened? The last thing he remembered… Necrozma, right? Necrozma had said halting the world's destruction was beyond his power. And then he was here.

And he was… he was…

Who was he?

No, he remembered. He was the protector of the Grass Spirits—the Guardian, and the one who wound up bringing all the other Guardians together with the help of his friends. He was supposed to save Kilo from the war Eon had started to overthrow Star and Barky.

But now, after everything that happened, and everything he knew now… What did that mean? And why was he here? Did Necrozma do something to his memory…?

Standing around wasn't going to do anything. With little else to do, the Guardian marched through the forest.

A voice echoed from above.

So that's it, then? You're… saying it's inevitable? That our world is doomed?

Owen knew that voice. It was Zena. Oh, Zena… Of all the Guardians, she was one of the least fortunate to get involved. She had no Legend half, no stake in this. She only happened to befriend Emily long ago, a former Guardian and one of Dark Matter's underlings.

Why was he hearing this?

He's not saying that, said his voice. That was surreal to hear. Had he said that?

Was this a conversation… from before?

I'm having trouble interpreting it another way, Zena replied. What could it be?

Maybe he needs more power… Don't we have that?

What?

He didn't have the answers now, and standing around wouldn't do anything. In search of clues, the Guardian marched through the shadowless forest.

A tiny Charmander bravely marched through a clearing. He puffed out his chest, intimidating invisible foes. "Is anyone there?!" he called. "Whose voice is that?!"

It sounded a lot like him but older. Finally evolved. A wonderful aspiration of his, so maybe this was a dream?

But his memory lapses were getting a lot worse. He couldn't even remember his name. Mom would know, though. Clutching at the Heart badge in his hand, eyes shining with the reminder that he'd done it. He wasn't a provisional Heart anymore. He was a true Heart.

That's what he'd go by for now. At least… until he remembered his name.

Dark Matter is someone that is not just an entity plaguing this world. He is, at its core, part of the very fabric of reality.

Heart tilted his head. Dark Matter. Yes, he remembered him. Heart of Hearts Anam had been taking care of him and trying to show him a better world, right? Sure, he had to do some shady things for it, but the world was happier in the end, right? Did that make it okay?

Dark Matter existed at the beginning, during this world's creation. He began with the inception of its rules. A stray thought from one of its Creators.

So, no way to remove him without removing the world, said another, small but serious voice. Mhynt, right? She was important.

An entity that was a problem for the world, but was also part of the world. Getting rid of it also got rid of the world, and vice versa. That did sound like a problem.

But then the solution would be to turn the problem into something that wouldn't be a problem, even if it was there, right?

As he wandered through the bright forest, the Heart pondered a solution…

There weren't any enemies nearby. No targets to kill. That was boring.

A nameless Charizard crawled over the charred forest—he'd done it himself because the green felt like it was not good terrain for him. The whole air had the smell of what he was supposed to be hunting down. Mystic power, right? And he remembered the source of that voice, too.

It was something that he was supposed to destroy. Well, most things were. All things were aside from his commander and anyone that he wasn't ordered to destroy.

No targets. That was boring. So he just had to keep looking.

He was the one who hunted down power. Why didn't matter; it was fun, wasn't it? Battle was fun. That was the point, that's what made him feel alive. And unlike so many others that he knew, who didn't know how to truly fight, he was the only one who had the mettle to take out a target.

That weak little voice that spoke for him didn't know how to kill. How much easier would it have been if he did?

There's no way to destroy him at all? his new voice called. That was one of the first wise questions he'd ever asked.

I think even destruction would only result in his slow return. Perhaps not now, but ages later…

That just meant another fight ages later. He didn't age. He'd be around.

Listening to that was tiring. The Hunter crawled forward on all fours—his lengthened limbs allowed it, and it seemed to intimidate others—in search of a new target.

This was one of Necrozma's mindscapes. Hmm.

But he didn't remember agreeing to one, which was worrying. Still, knowing Necrozma, he probably asked, and this was only a temporary stint of memory loss. He still didn't like it, but… fine. It was a small problem compared to everything that happened after his era.

The great Charizard—a staggering thirteen feet in height, perhaps a bit taller—had a surprisingly light footfall. His wings were already spread, carrying a simple updraft that allowed him to walk with much less weight. The gusts of wind helped to intimidate weaker challengers, not that it mattered when they posed a proper threat.

Necrozma's pact of destruction didn't surprise him. First, it was that he must, and now it's simply that he can't not. Wishkeeper—he recalled his title, not his name—was wise to Necrozma's plays.

He wasn't going to be fooled. It was only when he trusted his friends did he fall. Uxie, Mesprit, Azelf… they'd betrayed him. Turned him into a shell of his old self, left to become… that thing afterward. And that had been his fate, hadn't it?

Ever since that moment, he'd never returned from that apex. If he still had his whole power from before, all of this would have been behind him now. He would have saved Kilo. Instead, everyone else tried to use him.

He hated what he'd become. What others made him.

Why couldn't he simply be himself again? Not crafted by what everyone else wanted him to be, but his true, innermost, proper, pure self. That was who he was.

The talking in the sky continued. Zena—she was a kind Milotic. He appreciated how, even when she was overprotective, she tried to give him his autonomy back—was objecting to Necrozma's evaluations. Good. She was wise. If there was anything he could compliment his future self over, it was choosing her to trust.

Necrozma blathered on about how perhaps he'd changed, and that he wouldn't have the power to overpower them anyway.

Wait. Would he?

What do you mean? The voice of his future, diminutive self asked.

It's as I said. With Star and Barky so focused on saving this world, I'm simply overruled. And with Diyem as well… even the counterpower against divinity is against me, hypothetically.

Diyem, the counterpower. Yes. He was woven into the world's core.

Necrozma seemed to be speaking with hard facts… He recognized that he couldn't be trusted otherwise.

Maybe he did learn something.

I… suppose I can trust that, Wishkeeper's future self said. Okay. Well… alright. I'm just… thinking.

You seem conflicted, Necrozma said.

Well, yeah, I mean—

No, no. I'm sorry… I meant… internally. Conflicted over… Necrozma rattled a wheeze. Your mind. It's… fragmented.

Huh?

Then, it clicked.

Wishkeeper realized what this mindscape was. This false forest with a black sky and phantasmal leaves was just a place where he'd travel to find the rest of him.

What Necrozma had set up, as their pointless prattle continued in the sky, was a place where he could finally be himself.

This was a reconciliation. This was his opportunity to come back.

The time for all of his other 'selves' to finally be put in their place.

With a quickened pace, Wishkeeper marched through the empty forest. He could feel it, even without his Perceive. The others, his other selves, were just ahead.

This forest smelled weird.

The leaves didn't burn. And none of it looked right. Or maybe that was because the sky didn't have any lights. That was weird. But he liked that it wasn't dark. His flame could only do so much.

Still, Smallflame wasn't sure why he was there. He felt lost without his human.

Thinking about that human hurt his chest.

He beat his wings. Folded them back. Didn't feel right. He puffed out his chest and growled at nothing, making sure anyone who might be spying on him knew he was nothing to trifle with.

The people in the sky were talking, but he didn't get it. That was for the humans to go on about. Something about saving the world, but that always felt way over his head. The vague feeling he had about what happened after he went to sleep and became someone else… seemed beyond what he should be doing. Like he didn't have a place in what he was interfering with.

His human… also gave him a name. It was very important to him. Why couldn't he remember it?

Smallflame sniffed the air. He could sense others of his kind ahead. One smelled a little funny, though. Maybe they would have some answers—or even better, they were the people he'd become! He had a feeling that was this place's trick. The weird black crystal might have done it.

He suddenly had a vision. Inside a dark cave of black crystals, that Necrozma was reaching toward him. It was for the second time. Zena and so many other new, friendly faces nodded in approval, some more cautious than others. He took Necrozma's hand, and the crystal grew over his body.

Breathe gently. Just like your meditation.

As the crystal crawled over the rest of his body, Necrozma himself disappearing as more and more of him encased the Charizard's scales, the vision faded out.

And that was how he'd arrived in this forest.

Suddenly, something roared. Then another roar from something smaller, around his size. It sounded a lot like him.

Trouble. Smallflame spread his wings and flew into the fray.

All five met in the nexus of this forest, where there were no trees and no ground. Instead, it was some flat surface devoid of proper texture, only a vague give any time their heels pressed against it to walk forward.

The first to arrive was a green Charmeleon with leafy feathers. He was surprised to see all the others approaching but was most nervous about a Charizard that prowled on four legs and stared at him with a crazed, hungry look in his eyes.

"H-hi," Guardian said, waving.

"You smell nice," Hunter replied, creeping closer.

"Uhh, thanks?" Guardian's eyes shifted left and right. There, he spotted another, mercifully normal Charizard flying in, though he still had a more feral look to his mannerisms.

The feral Charizard said something in a series of growls and snorts. Vocalizations Guardian didn't understand, but he came off as intelligent enough. Guardian waved at him, and he waved back.

"Smallflame, right?" Guardian asked.

Smallflame grunted in approval. Hunter sized him up, narrowing his eyes and pupils.

"Hello?" called the tiniest voice yet. On another part of this nexus, a little Charmander hopped into view and waved. "Oh, hi! I think I know you! Or, us, right?"

He sprinted, only skidding to a stop once he was within speaking distance. "You can call me Heart! Do any of you remember our name?"

"Not really," Guardian said. "Oh, but you can call me Guardian. I guess it fits, since, you know…"

"Right!" Heart's bright eyes sparkled with wonder. "You're who I become, right? Wow. Saving the world!"

"Yeah, uh, that's me…"

Heart grinned anyway, not sensing Guardian's hesitance.

A spear of black and white energy—a sizzling mixture of Radiance and Shadow—streaked through the air. Hunter, its target, jumped out of the way and avoided it completely.

Flying toward them was a Charizard more than twice the size of any of the others, fury in his eyes and hatred in his javelin of light and dark. He slammed into the ground and stood upright.

"You," he hissed at Hunter. He brought the javelin back, ready to throw it like Hunter was a fish to spear in the river.

"H-hey! Hang on, what're you doing?!" Heart cried, but he was of course too small to do anything. Smallflame shouted as well, trying to call off the fight. Hunter took a cautious step back, that crazed look somewhere between excited for a battle and doubtful he'd win.

Wishkeeper wound up, seconds from hurling it through Hunter—and this close, he wouldn't miss.

"STOP!" cried Guardian.

He leaped in the way and held up his arms. A golden barrier separated himself and Hunter from Wishkeeper. Smallflame and Heart both stopped their approach, and Wishkeeper, mercifully, only held the crackling spear in place, neither throwing nor withdrawing it.

"What're you doing?" Guardian dared ask.

"Putting down the blight on our soul," Wishkeeper said flatly, staring past Guardian and into Hunter, who only hissed and crouched in response.

"He's still us," Guardian said. "We need to—"

"He was created after everything that made us was wiped away. When I was wiped away." Wishkeeper's claws squeezed the javelin.

"Will hurting him hurt us?" Guardian pressed.

"Y-yeah!" Heart added. "We have no idea what that would do. We're still the same soul, just… just, you know, different times!"

Smallflame stood beside Hunter and spread his wings protectively, glaring at Wishkeeper next.

Hunter was antsy, ready to strike. But for now, he recognized everyone else as safe… aside from the big one.

"There's no point in fighting right now," Guardian said. "Please. Let's just talk, okay? We've got to be here for a reason."

"The reason is to get rid of what has been holding us back," Wishkeeper said.

"And you think he's holding us back?" Guardian asked.

"You don't?"

Guardian tensed. In many ways, he was. But he couldn't admit that directly. "There's still something he can help us with," he said. "If we just talk, maybe we can all see that."

The barrier remained, as did the spear, for a tense few moments. Above them, in the black, starless abyss, there were light murmurings of small talk. Was that the present day? Were they all resting after their long trek? That was probably it.

Wishkeeper finally let out a long, weary sigh. The javelin dissipated into nothing and his shoulders sagged. When he collapsed into a sitting position, the malleable ground around them pulsed with the energy of his sheer weight, which Guardian suspected was a literal ton, given his height.

"Fine," Wishkeeper said. "A talk."

Heart beamed, about to speak, when Wishkeeper cut him off.

"But I expect this to be useful. I'm… not going to fade away again. And I won't let anything stop that from happening."

"I understand," Guardian said. "I think we all want to… not fade away. We'll find a way to make this work. Everyone okay with this?"

Heart nodded emphatically. Wishkeeper merely crossed his arms and closed his eyes, submitting to the proposal. Hunter remained guarded, settling next to Smallflame, who took to keeping his wings over his fellow near-feral Charizard.

"Good enough," Guardian said. "Let's start with something basic. Does anyone know our name?"

All negative responses.

"Oh, I know!" Heart piped up, raising his hand like he was supposed to be called.

Guardian and Wishkeeper exchanged awkward glances. They both nodded at him.

"How about we introduce ourselves?" Heart suggested. "We'll tell each other what we know, from our perspective! Then, uh, we'll… see what happens from there?"

Near the end, he'd lost some steam. But the effort was there, and the idea…

"Hm." Wishkeeper pondered it aloud. "I like that. We'll start there. Let's begin chronologically. I believe that means we start with…" He looked at Smallflame. "Hmm."

Guardian scratched the top of his horn.

"Oh." Heart tittered nervously. "That… might be harder than I thought."

Zena had found a decent place on the edge of the room to sleep. Despite its dim glow, it was more comforting than the old cavern she'd once slept in when she was alone… though with the current circumstances, it was hard to get any rest. Not that she needed to, as a Mystic. But her mind was tired, and some moments of silence and inactivity were still necessary.

Valle was set up in the corner of the room, having said very little during their discussions, though he did remark every so often about vague feelings of familiarity with the things Necrozma spoke about.

Demitri, Mispy, Gahi, their three counterparts, and Trina were all settled in a big seven-person heap in another part of the room, and looking at them eased Zena's heart just a little. They'd been calmed enough to enter the place, and with Necrozma dormant, the light did not bother them as much.

She especially liked how delicately Trina was settled between Gahi's two antennae, awake but with her eyes closed in meditation.

Owen's state unnerved her. The long conversation they had, talking about Necrozma's role as the third god, the mediator of Kilo, and his true role as an Overseer—which he was frustratingly vague about the details of. How they'd ultimately decided that Necrozma didn't want to destroy Kilo any longer, and no longer had the capability anyway. Did she truly believe that?

She believed he couldn't. But she was skeptical he no longer wanted to if given the opportunity. Thankfully, the rest of the divine and 'anti-divine' powers were against him. When Necrozma gathered more of his strength and helped sort out Owen, he and Valle would combine.

But his means of gathering that strength…

Hunched over in the edge of the room was a Charizard covered in strange, obsidian-black armor. Necrozma had reached toward Owen, and their hands had clasped together. Owen had evolved, and they spoke some kind of agreement to one another. After several contingencies with Mhynt, and determining Necrozma's strength, they'd found that Owen was the proper vessel to help reenergize Necrozma.

They'd tried with Mhynt first. Unfortunately, her light had faded from so long in the Voidlands. It did ease Zena's worries, though. Mhynt described the experience as unpleasant, but not painful, and it was only the former because she lacked the light Necrozma sought. It had only been partly there.

And, more importantly, Zena could sense Owen's aura mingled with Necrozma's. He was fine. No more, so far, than an active dream. According to that crystal beast, Owen's mind was so fragmented that Necrozma was helping to sort it out with him. She wondered what that was like… and it pained her that she couldn't have been of any help.

"I don't blame you," Mhynt said.

Zena jumped, then curled inward defensively. She didn't make eye contact.

"I'm sure Necrozma doesn't, either."

"You'll wake the others."

Mhynt settled down a few feet from her. Upon glancing at her, Zena only saw Mhynt offering a little, crooked smile.

"I'll speak softly. The chamber is large enough."

The Milotic sighed and coiled a little tighter. "Right."

More silence followed, though this time, it was because Zena was thinking about what to say. How to say it? Mhynt seemed courteous enough to not interrupt.

"I'm not," Zena began, "crazy, am I? For… being so oppositional."

"How do you mean?"

"Well. It started with Star, obviously, for the life she put me through when I had no idea what I was getting into. Then, Barky was no better. And I find out that Necrozma planned to end the world before I was even born. I'm not some Legend. I'm not even descended from someone particularly… noble or powerful. Xerneas checked. There's nothing standout in my lineage. I'm just a Milotic."

"And I think for that reason," Mhynt said, "you would be the most reasonable opinion to seek out, Zena."

"I have no experience with this. Even though I can't… shake my feelings, there's… I'm doubting it, Mhynt. Especially when Owen is…" She gestured at the crystalized Charizard. "Going along with it."

"I wouldn't use Owen as your baseline," Mhynt warned. "He was born as a docile, human-friendly Charmander, remember. Meant to be agreeable to figures of authority. To add, Nevren had a hand in the mind he was given once he was 'de-feralized,' so to speak… And of course, there is the mutant body afterward."

The Treecko shook her head. "I doubt none of that stuck, Zena. He's going to tend to agree. But in this case… Necrozma's reasons and logic checked out. He cannot hurt us. The gods would overpower him, especially with Diyem now on our side, too."

"But what will he do instead?" Zena asked. "He claims he'd save this world, but how? If Diyem is woven into…"

"I think Owen is already doing it," Mhynt said. "He's trying to make Diyem something that isn't a destructive force. We already have a small grain of truth that it's possible. All we must do now is make sure that's the dominant part. Necrozma would gladly do that."

"I… I suppose so," Zena said. "I can only rely on your judgments at this point. I can't shake that spiteful feeling, though, and I'm worried it's going to distract me from the practical answer… sometimes…"

"Don't worry," Mhynt said. "We need someone to be spiteful. We need someone to remind us of what they did." She nodded. "I'm… admittedly desperate to get rid of the darkness of Kilo. But you haven't seen it as much. Remind us if we lose sight of what it means to be of Kilo."

That was a heavy weight to place on her. Zena nervously toyed with her ribbons. "I'll try," she finally said.

Mhynt seemed satisfied by this because she nodded and took a seat nearby, looking at the opposite wall. Meditating, lost in thought? She couldn't tell.

The silence ate at her. She could have just rested.

"You're a lot stronger than I am," Zena finally said.

"Hm? Well, of course. I'm Lunala."

"No, that—" Zena sighed. "Emotionally."

"I've been through more," Mhynt said.

"That's hardly a reason. People can go through a great deal and come out fragile." Zena's ribbons curled and uncurled.

"Well, yes," she said. "And I have little, fragile cracks because of it. Everyone does if I had to guess… but we can be hardened. The Voidlands made it so." She leaned her back against the wall. "I don't think that's a good thing. People should be able to let their guard down."

But Zena was no better. She'd just gone over a talk about being on guard with the gods. Mhynt seemed knowledgeable enough to know when to let that guard down.

"Do you mean for normal people?" Zena asked. "Surely you can trust them."

"The Void erodes people, Zena," Mhynt said, not looking at her. "It's a world where death leads to a new life of blissful malice. I've seen Class B and C individuals far happier than Class A, deathless citizens. They are people burdened with the knowledge that one day they will die of some painful circumstance and lose who they are.

"You're a lot happier when you don't know what you're missing."

Zena thought of poor Xypher. He had seemed cheerful, in his weird little way. And then Hakk, his caretaker, so embittered, so broken when Xypher was gone. But where was Xypher now? Would there ever… be a Xypher again?

"What would you prefer?" Zena asked Mhynt.

"…I don't know," Mhynt admitted. "To lose who I am now, to throw everything away, and become someone else? That's a gamble, even if it's a terrible one. I think… I would prefer to keep all of myself for now. But I do wonder if, at some point… I'm simply too old and burdened. I wonder if there's merit in…" Her eyes trailed over to Owen. "Forgetting."

"Don't let him hear that one from you," Zena hummed with a slight playfulness to her tone.

"I won't," Mhynt replied with a wry smile. "I admire his determination to get everything back. Good and bad. I do wonder what that means for the fragmentation Necrozma was talking about…"

She did, too. A deep part of her wondered if the Owen who woke up would be the same Charizard she knew. The time she shared with him was brief, no more than a year by now, and yet… he was thousands of years old. What was she to someone like that?

"Zena," Mhynt said. "I know that look."

"I'm sorry. It's selfish of me." She coiled up, pretending to rest.

"Not what I meant," she said. "…Let me tell you about something. It's not… completely true, but it is the trend. When it comes to memories of people like us, of Mystics and gods and all the other ageless… recency matters. As we grow older and older, the distant past does feel like an old life, a dream of some other person.

"That is my time with the Owen I knew a thousand years ago. A good, happy dream… but nothing more. That person I was, and the person he was, are gone forever, Zena. It's a foolish thing to try to rekindle the past when we have something in the present instead. When so much had changed."

"But you can't possibly throw it all away," Zena said. "Memories… they don't seem to go away for us. Just sealed, or moved, or buried, but you can't erase them. It's like a curse."

"That is the curse of all souls, Zena," Mhynt replied gravely. "It is only because we are beyond mortal bodies that we bear it earlier. Memories are eternal to a soul. And really, there is no need for a realm like the Voidlands to torment a soul. Regrets will do that well enough." Mhynt looked down. "A soul is powerless to reverse the regrets of their time alive. It sticks to them like weights. It's no wonder some desire a new life so their old self can become a distant dream."

"Old self…" Zena thought about Owen's personalities. The jabbering he'd talk about in their downtime about his old names, his old languages, and friends. They were always so interesting to her, but she also wondered—and asked—what he thought about those. Were they really 'him' still?

Owen never seemed to like that question. She avoided it after a few tries.

But now… he was probably confronting that very problem.

"Recency," Zena circled back. "Are you saying Owen would be more as I know him, even after this?"

"It's more likely. Maybe a few changes. For the better, if I want to be optimistic." Mhynt wobbled her head noncommittally. "But," the Treecko went on, "I do think he will still care for you more than other friends. Perhaps as much as family. How close are you two, now?"

"Oh, well… we're fairly close," Zena said.

There was a beat of silence. Zena shrank back slightly. Her cream scales, she wondered, were they darkening? Owen remarked about how feral Pokémon couldn't blush like that. Gods, it must have been obvious to Mhynt…

But the Treecko's expression was softer than she'd expected. "Tell me, Zena," she said. "Are you ready for the day you two may part?"

"What?"

"For immortals, forever is a long time. There is no death to part you… Well, unless you're killed, I suppose. But we're strong. That's hard to come by. And, well, death is an inconvenience for us. It won't be goodbye. Other goodbyes happen instead.

"So, one day, you and Owen… will drift apart. It's naïve to think you'd be together 'forever,' yes?"

Zena felt defensive over it. Like she wanted to battle the concept. But then, she thought about it, her reflexive defensiveness hardening into cold shame.

"Why tell me this?" Zena said, not quite thinking her words through.

"Because it's something you'll think about one day," she said. "I wanted to give you… advice."

"To be ready for the end? What a horrible way to—"

"To enjoy things as they happen."

Zena was quiet. It seemed… simple enough. But why that angle?

"Gods, demigods, whatever we are… We lose sight of the 'now' when facing forever. But if you know everything will end during your long line of eternity… don't shy away from everything because of it. Enjoy one thing after the other. Accept them for their fleeting nature. Even your loved ones, as you drift apart, be happy for what you have now, and what you had then. And be ready for something new the day after."

"Right, I… I think I understand. The now… So I don't, don't shy away from…"

Mhynt nodded. "Mortals may get by with one dedication for their life. But forever is too long for that. I think right now, Owen is battling that very same thing. He is battling what it means to remember… and what it means to move on at the same time. To carry that burden of memories. To pay for the privilege of remembering everything he can.

"All things considered… he seems very happy anyway, doesn't he?"

"Content," Zena corrected. "I think it's not that it makes him happy. I think it… satisfies him, to know. Even the parts that are hard."

"Hm." Mhynt shook her head, smiling. "You sound confident."

"That's one thing I know for sure." The Milotic uncurled a little, relaxing.

And silence filled the air again, the conversation trailing away. But it wasn't an awkward, tense silence this time. The now… Maybe she'd drift from Owen one day, sure. But not for decades, maybe centuries? Gods, if they had centuries, at the rate the world was going… No, no. Positive. They had to keep fighting.

"I suppose he's already changed," Mhynt said. "You know him more than I do now." She smirked, closing her eyes. "Good luck. He's a handful."

Zena chuckled at that, resting her chin against her coils. "I'll do my best."

Something was energizing about guessing what Smallflame was trying to convey when there was such a vast language barrier between him and the rest of his selves. Hunter was one of the best interpreters, but he was a bad speaker. Heart turned out to be good at interpreting Hunter, and while the way Heart talked about it irritated Wishkeeper, Guardian acted as a good mediator between the two.

Slowly, they pieced together Smallflame's past as Tim's starter Pokémon in Kanto, the tragic end to their journey to become Champion and their eventual transition to Ranger work in another region. Then, being recruited by Hecto for rescuing Star from some dark organization in Orre, and being obliterated from orbit by Barky, along with the rest of the island.

Smallflame spoke of how he'd suddenly learned how to speak to Tim—though now, he was a Mew—and their ascent up the tower… and, eventually, his death by age, and how Tim, now Jirachi, Palkia, once the scientist Michael, and Xerneas had put their efforts together to make the Reincarnation Machine so Owen could properly come back, even after dying of age.

This led to Wishkeeper, whose diction needed to be dumbed down for Smallflame, thanks to help from Hunter and Heart. Wishkeeper talked about his reincarnations and work with Jirachi, the many times he was killed due to assassins, bad luck, or as Wishkeeper phrased it, "Poor calibration of the Reincarnation Machine."

He eventually spoke of the thousand years that Quartz had been allowed, and how presumably its name had eventually been changed to Kilo in that honor after his 'death.' He glared at Hunter occasionally when he spoke. The largest Charizard ended off with the remark that after his emotions, will, and memories had been wiped, he was left for dead to be Reincarnated once more.

But the damage remained, and he had to be taught all over again. Perhaps Nevren, Eon, or some other twisted machination had turned him into an obedient little soldier instead. Into Hunter.

They didn't know how Demitri, Mispy, and Gahi had gotten caught up in that one, but obviously, it was after they'd been split from their Trio of Mind, or they would have repaired him a lot earlier. Maybe they could ask them about it later…

Hunter's story was much shorter. Fighting. Training. They didn't know why, but it was fun. Over and over until one day, after he killed someone he wasn't supposed to, Rhys took him away and to Amia. Or, more specifically, when he was killed, he'd been taken as a spirit instead, where they could calm him a lot easier.

It was all blurry. Hunter spoke in broken sentences like he was perpetually in his battle mode rather than his docile state. Heart seemed to calm him with gentle head pats and chin scratches.

Heart took over from there. He only remembered living in Hot Spot for so many lives. He'd made simple friendships in Kilo, only to forget them later when he had to be Reset again. Until one day…

He became Guardian, and his memories started to return. It was all coming back to them all, now. For some, like Smallflame, it was like seeing into the future; for Guardian, it was recovering the past.

By the time Guardian finished talking about gathering their new friends, falling into the Voidlands, and slowly clawing back every bit of power they'd lost or forgotten…

All of them took a collective breath.

And let it out.

Wishkeeper spoke first. "It's better," he said. Every time he spoke, he seemed to be keeping up a regal air about himself. No, not quite regal; perhaps it was more formal and important. Much more than any of the others. "Better than it had been before."

Hunter growled at Wishkeeper but said little more.

"But I'm the rightful continuity," Wishkeeper went on. "When Smallflame was reborn, I was given a mind. A proper mind that wasn't simply bred to be docile to humans, and—"

Smallflame growled in protest. His toes dug into the void below him like it had dirt, and he snorted out a little plume of fire. The smoke carried his disapproval.

Wishkeeper rolled his eyes. "I know it's not bred to be docile; I know it was because it was evolutionarily advantageous to work with humans, but the result is the same. You were friendly. Obedient. Nice. And that got taken advantage of."

Smallflame's growls continued, but quieter, like a defiant mumble.

"But you also lost your way," Heart said gently. Unlike everyone else, Heart had the softest tonalities, and he often had his hands over his chest holding themselves. "You could have talked it out a little more and maybe convinced Necrozma sooner, instead of turning to the very thing he was trying to destroy. Dark Matter…"

"I tried to save him," Wishkeeper said.

"You made… Voidlands," Hunter pointed out.

"I didn't make it," Wishkeeper growled. "It was a product of the reverse of the Hands made by the gods. As if you're one to speak about causing suffering."

"Just fighting," Hunter said. Then, he brought his forelegs up—he liked prowling on all fours—and made air quotes. "Bred to be obedient."

"So you do listen," Wishkeeper said. It was somehow a genuine compliment.

"But Hunter has a point," Guardian spoke up.

Guardian was not formal nor casual, and spoke more evenly than the others. He was a little grave, and he didn't quite feel right in his feathers, but he couldn't change it here for some reason.

"Compared to the four of us, his ability to fight is… kind of the best. If we can control the temper, that's what we need him for. Strength. Right, Hunter?"

Hunter growled affirmatively. It didn't seem like he cared much about anything if he could fight. Really, that came naturally to Pokémon. They just had to temper it.

"Hmph. I also have technique," Wishkeeper said. "…But combined, I can see its strengths. Fine. I'll… I'm fine with that."

Guardian frowned. "Wishkeeper… I think it's also because you're afraid of being erased again."

"Tch." Wishkeeper scowled. "Of course I don't want that. Who would? I was… betrayed by the people I trusted the most. I was alone. Isolated. And then my final thoughts… were of the last person I trusted taking away my will. Then my emotions. Then my memories. Gone. I was gone."

He'd been thinking about Gahi initially, but then quickly pivoted to all three of that Trio of Mind… But his mind went back to Gahi again. Azelf. And for the first time, his voice trembled. That told the others everything they needed to know. He was so persistent because out of everyone, he was the one who'd been so thoroughly wiped away. And now he was clawing his way back… only to be in this talk with four others who wanted the same.

"No," Guardian said. "Sorry. I meant you're afraid of… that, right? Of becoming something else, not even lesser. Just not 'you.' Right?"

Wishkeeper seemed briefly ashamed. He'd let it slip, that insecurity. But… it was true. He knew what it was like. And he saw what he became. "I don't want to disappear, yes. I have to… I don't want to go away again. I can't."

Guardian spoke gently this time. "So you… try to strike it down. Hunter, I mean. But… isn't that the opposite of what you tried to do with Dark Matter?"

Wishkeeper squinted, and in a brief silence of contemplation, he seemed to recognize the parallel. "…Then, you're suggesting I should try to… help Hunter the same way. And it won't end in disaster this time? I won't be erased."

"The only way to get rid of Hunter is to get rid of all of us," Guardian warned. "Just like Kilo and Dark Matter. So… yeah. We have to help him, too. None of us will be erased this time. We all need to exist, because all of us bring a little bit to our 'whole.' Right?"

Hunter snorted. "Don't need help," he grumbled.

"Stubborn," Wishkeeper snorted back.

"You're both stubborn," Guardian said.

"Of course we both are. We're both many things. We're all the same soul."

"I dunno if the soul means a whole lot," Heart said. "It's memories and feelings, right? And we hardly had either persist between us, just… dispositions, and people… That's what makes this part so hard."

Wishkeeper nodded. "Fine. I agree there, too. I'm… afraid of being erased. I said that. Sure. But if I have to help Hunter, you also have to help me be part of…" He gestured around.

"Of course," Guardian said. "You don't have to be protective. We're all here for each other. Okay?"

"Fine."

"You're also way too intense," Heart added.

Back on the defensive, Wishkeeper retorted without hesitation, "What? Intense? I'm not intense. I'm serious. I had to manage reality-bending wishes! And then save the world!"

"I mean, so am I?" Guardian said. "Maybe not the wishes part, but the world's in pretty big danger!"

"Huge danger," Heart said. "But, uh, Wishkeeper, you're just, like…" He pinched the air. "Maybe a tiny bit scary?"

Smallflame grumbled something.

"I think he said, 'he is anything but tiny,'" Guardian guessed.

Smallflame snorted in approval.

"Oh, wow, a size joke. I've never heard it before."

"You're the one that's like thirteen feet tall!"

"And four inches."

"So you do keep track!" Heart pointed at him.

"How did you even eat?" Guardian said.

"My diet was actually… small. Necrozma's blessing increases your size but it shrinks your appetite." Wishkeeper shrugged. "I guess it's like being half-Mystic."

"Solar power," Hunter rumbled.

"Maybe."

"I can do that," Guardian added, playing with his feathers.

Heart giggled. "Well, if we're supposed to, like… try to sort ourselves out, I'll talk about what I want. I want to be friends with as many people as possible, and to save as many people, too!"

"What about when you need to make tough decisions? Sacrifices? Will you freeze up, shut down?" Wishkeeper pressed.

"W-well… maybe… But!" Heart pointed. "That's when you come in!"

"…To make the hard decisions," Wishkeeper said. "…Okay. I'll agree to that. If… being friendly isn't enough, or… something. If there's anything I want to carry on, it's my knowledge and experience. Compared to all of you, I just… know more. Sorry."

"But you've become timeworn because of it," Guardian said. "We need to remember being normal, too. Even if it's a tiny bit. I think… Smallflame and Heart can help there."

"Perhaps so," Wishkeeper acquiesced.

Heart beamed. They'd managed to convince Wishkeeper to work with them. That was a lot better than trying to kill Hunter! He didn't even know what that would mean for him as a personality. Then again… Hunter was hostile.

Guardian, seeing the way Heart glanced at Hunter, carried that along. "Hunter, you're going to have to behave from now on. Yes, we're still going to fight. But you don't want to scare your friends, right?"

"Guess not," Hunter agreed. "…But use my strength. You're soft. All of you. One day, an enemy… will need to be killed. Not befriended."

"We understand," Heart said, though his tone suggested he wasn't all in. "As long as we aren't hurting people who don't deserve it. And not going too far, either. I'm… sick of having to worry about killing."

"Does that even matter anymore?" Guardian asked. "We know what death is. So—"

"Do not go down that path," Wishkeeper said, and Guardian flinched at the sudden harshness of the largest Charizard's tone.

"Right, sorry," Guardian replied quickly.

Wishkeeper wasn't satisfied. This was exactly what he was worried about. "Being a god makes you lose sight of the values of mortals. We aren't gods, but we have the agelessness of one. Do not discredit death. It's traumatizing to mortals, and not something to take lightly. Is that clear?"

"It is! I knew that," Guardian said. "I just meant for me, and stuff… if we had to choose, you know? Between them and us."

"Mm." Wishkeeper wasn't convinced, but it was fine enough that he recognized the error. "I suppose that means we all have decided on, generally, what we want. Except for…"

They all looked at Smallflame, who shifted nervously. This was all so complicated for him. Big words and even bigger concepts. He didn't care about all that, and they were all 'older' than him anyway.

And his old friend… all his old friends were gone, now. Tim's old team was long gone, lost to the horrible organization that stole them. Who knew what lives they'd lived? Tim's old friends and allies had become gods, too, and all changed so much.

Smallflame was… the past. He wasn't supposed to be around anymore. Was that what they were trying to tell him?

"I know it's hard to talk to us," Heart said, "but we're all the same person. We'll understand you. If there's anything you want to… keep… about you, what would it be?" He gently reached forward until his tiny hand was on Smallflame's thigh. "It's okay. What is it?"

The most frustrating part was Smallflame didn't have the vocabulary for it. Not for them. And they didn't have the part of 'him' that could understand his words.

But this was a weird, mental place where they could all understand each other, right? Maybe it was like humans and Pokémon. Maybe they would understand his feelings.

"I want," Smallflame said, "to have friends again."

He didn't know if they understood. But the way Wishkeeper glanced away, pensive, and the way Guardian smiled sadly… They did.

"It'll be okay, Smallflame," Guardian said. "We have so many people by our side now. You won't be lonely. Not after all this."

"Even I had friends," Hunter pointed out. "…Violent friends. But still friends."

"Well, you were also violent, so it worked out," Wishkeeper murmured.

"Says the guy who opened trying to skewer him," Guardian muttered back.

Heart tittered, but then sighed. "I guess that's everything," he said. "What do we do now?"

"We decide on how to go forward," Wishkeeper said. "And I believe I've finally puzzled together what Necrozma wants from us, too. A decision on how 'we' come together with a sense of… continuity between our fragmented parts. We did that. Now… we decide what our future is."

"We already did that, too," Heart said.

"We did. Guardian," Wishkeeper said, "I… have reservations about how you did things. But even you, the most recent of 'us,' are not the person that was speaking to Necrozma. It was a little bit of all of us. And a little bit of it will remain. I guess… in that sense… we're all supposed to rise together. As one."

Guardian nodded. "I agree," he said. "If that's the case, how about we all fly together?"

"Uh? Fly?" Heart asked. "I never evolved yet…"

Guardian chuckled. "Well, if that's the case—"

Hunter crawled over and dipped his nose beneath Heart, flicking him onto his back. He yelped, but landed surprisingly softly in his wings, tumbling to the center of Hunter's back.

"Hold on tight," Hunter said.

"Uh—" Heart grasped onto the base of his wings. "Okay! I'm tight!"

"Can you fly as well?" Wishkeeper asked Guardian.

"Yep."

Wishkeeper and Smallflame both spread their wings, conjuring updraft. Gentle psionics and Mystic power raised Guardian from the ground. Hunter crouched; Heart braced.

All five rose toward the abyssal sky as one. Their bodies shimmered with light. For a few fleeting seconds, they could all see through each other's eyes. And for a few more, their sights became one.