Chapter 24: Requests from One Goddess to Another
Dianamon woke up early. Very early. Although, in truth, she hadn't slept all night. Thoughts had plagued her like shadows in the dark. Tension gripped every fiber of her being, weighing her down with an invisible but suffocating force. Despite this, she knew she had to appear as calm as possible for the meeting, a task that seemed nearly impossible. The quickened beat of her heart reminded her of the magnitude of what was at stake.
She rose from the bed with slow movements, as if any sudden action might trigger chaos in her mind. She gazed through the large window of her room. From the Moon, the stars seemed closer, almost within reach, but their brightness failed to soothe her. After a long sigh, she made her way to the bathroom, where the cold marble floor beneath her bare feet sent a shiver up her spine. A cold shower would clear her head, she thought. The icy water slid over her skin like daggers, causing her to inhale sharply. Though her muscles remained tense, her mind, at least for a few moments, felt clearer.
Once finished, she dressed with mechanical precision. The garments clung to her body like a second skin. As she adjusted her armor, she felt the weight of her responsibilities. She left her room, striding quickly and purposefully through the halls of the lunar castle. Around her, the shadows of the columns stretched long under the weak light filtering through the windows, as if they wanted to envelop her. The echo of her footsteps resounded in the silence, accompanying her unease. She wanted to leave the Moon as soon as possible; the sooner she departed, the sooner she could focus on what truly mattered.
However, upon reaching the main entrance, a familiar figure blocked her path. Queenchessmon leaned casually against the doorframe, a faintly amused expression on her face. Her presence, both elegant and defiant, seemed a reminder that not everyone shared the same urgency to face the day's challenges.
"Good morning, Dianamon," Queenchessmon greeted her with a slight smile, as though the day had only just begun for her. "Where are you off to in such a rush?"
Dianamon didn't return the smile. Her mind was too tense to engage in formalities.
"I already told you I had important tasks today that I couldn't miss," she replied seriously, not stopping entirely, as though her words were just another task to quickly dispatch.
Queenchessmon, however, seemed immune to the urgency of the situation. With an elegant gesture, she brushed a strand of hair from her face, her relaxed attitude a sharp contrast to Dianamon's tension.
"That's right," she mused, as if she had just remembered something trivial. "I'd forgotten."
Dianamon narrowed her eyes for a moment, though she didn't let her frustration seep into her tone.
"As I've mentioned, the Crescemon are at your full disposal." "Oh, yes," Queenchessmon made a faintly disappointed face. "Besides fighting, is there anything else I can do?"
Dianamon gave her a brief glance before answering, as though unsure if the princess was joking or genuinely asking.
"Remember, you need to read your new bedside book."
Queenchessmon raised an eyebrow, curiosity flashing across her face.
"My new bedside book?" she asked, almost amused.
Dianamon let out a brief sigh, like someone repeating instructions they had already given many times.
"Don't you remember the manual I gave you? It contains everything you need to know to become a good hunter. You should read it."
Queenchessmon nodded slowly, as if recalling something she had overlooked. The night before, she had idly flipped through that manual. Its pages, full of instructions, hadn't seemed very friendly, reminding her of the arcane texts in the grand library of the Chess Kingdom's palace. In any case, the reading hadn't been entertaining, much less relevant to what she considered her strengths.
"Don't waste time during my absence," Dianamon added with a final tone, turning her back to her. As she crossed the entrance and left the castle, the cold lunar air enveloped her, but it couldn't quell the fire burning inside. Her destination was the Valley of Deramon, where she hoped to find the answers she so desperately needed.
Upon arriving at the nearest entrance to the lush and verdant area, Dianamon's tension rose. The air here was different, laden with the sweet and dense fragrance of wildflowers and damp leaves. The vibrant colors of the surroundings contrasted with the grayness of her thoughts. She had never been well-received in this realm; suspicious glances and whispers always followed her every step. The winding paths, bordered by creeping vines, seemed as though they wanted to ensnare her. Despite the beauty, she felt a slight discomfort in her chest, as if the very nature of the place was hostile to her.
Luckily, Ceresmon, in her Medium form, was already waiting for her, standing out amidst the vegetation like an imposing figure. Her large size and rough appearance always seemed out of place among the delicate flora, like a giant among fragile flowers. As she saw Dianamon approaching, Ceresmon raised her right arm, waving her massive claw in an exaggerated and somewhat clumsy gesture, a movement that, far from relaxing Dianamon, only reminded her that this meeting was far from friendly.
"Good morning, Dianamon," Ceresmon said with a wide, malicious grin, her voice echoing through the trees like branches creaking under the weight of the wind. "I've been waiting for you for quite some time."
Dianamon stopped a few steps away, maintaining her upright and calm posture, though inside she felt like every second in this place was a test of her patience.
"I had a few things to take care of before leaving," she responded, her tone neutral, though tinged with a faint, hidden weariness.
"Relax," said Ceresmon, though her tone suggested the opposite, "the important thing is that you've come." Her smile faded briefly, and her expression turned slightly darker. "Deramon is very busy and won't be able to meet with you personally, though he sends his regards."
Dianamon nodded, keeping her expression unchanged, but she couldn't help feeling a slight relief knowing she wouldn't have to face the king directly. She and Deramon had never had a good relationship; her love for hunting had always been a point of contention. For him, hunting represented unnecessary cruelty, an act that contradicted the preservation of the plant kingdom and the species within it. For Dianamon, however, it was an ancestral discipline that embodied respect and mastery over nature. She was glad he wasn't there to continue that old debate.
Meanwhile, Ceresmon let out a loud laugh that echoed around them, scaring off some nearby birds.
"That's the official message he asked me to pass on, but you can imagine the truth is quite different," Ceresmon said, crossing her arms with a mocking expression. "As soon as I mentioned I'd be meeting with you, he hastily organized a trip to the Sky Palace, under the excuse of strengthening diplomatic relations with Valkyrimon." Ceresmon shot a knowing look, clearly enjoying the confusion her comment might cause.
Dianamon allowed a faint smile. The fact that Deramon had fled the situation didn't surprise her in the least.
"To be honest, I wasn't thrilled about seeing him again either," she said candidly, offering the bare minimum of sincerity the situation called for.
"I figured as much," Ceresmon responded, narrowing her eyes, as if relishing the shared moment of complicity. "That said, I don't have anywhere else to hold this meeting, at least not for now." She paused, as though issuing a challenge. "And I have no intention of staying here much longer."
Dianamon immediately picked up on the hint. This wasn't a casual meeting; Ceresmon was making it clear that things needed to be done quickly and directly. Both were here out of necessity, not by choice.
"Come with me to our table," Ceresmon said with a nod. "The Kiwimon have prepared tea."
Dianamon nodded once more and followed Ceresmon. Around her, the sounds of the forest seemed to soften, as though nature itself understood that what was about to be discussed should not be interrupted.
Ceresmon guided Dianamon through the winding paths that opened up between the dense vegetation, leading to a small but elegant terrace hidden under a canopy of giant leaves. The table that the Kiwimon had set for the occasion was a work of art in itself, carved from fine woods that still retained the fresh scent of Deramon's forests. It was adorned with delicate, vibrant flowers, and atop it rested a tea set that gleamed in the dim light filtering through the branches. It was identical to the one prepared for Neptunemon's visit, an event that had left a lasting impression on the community for its formality and extravagance. However, on this occasion, there were only two chairs, lending the meeting a more intimate and tense atmosphere.
"Sit," Ceresmon said, settling her weight with a movement that made the wood creak under her massive frame. Impatience reflected in her gaze, eager to start the meeting as soon as possible.
Dianamon obeyed without a word, seating herself with contrasting grace. Every one of her movements seemed carefully measured, almost as if she feared any gesture might upset the fragile balance of the environment. She wished for this to be over soon, for the palpable tension in the air to finally dissipate. With steady hands, though her mind was in turmoil, she poured herself a small amount of tea. The steam rose in delicate spirals, and the floral and earthy aroma filled her senses, offering her a brief moment of calm that felt almost unreal amidst the prevailing tension.
She lifted the cup to her lips and drank slowly. The taste of the tea was as exquisite as its fragrance, a blend of subtle and deep flavors that harmonized perfectly. Despite her initial reluctance, she couldn't help but feel momentarily impressed. It was as though, despite everything, this place was trying to show her its beauty and value in the only way it could: through its natural generosity.
"The tea is made from plants grown exclusively in these lands," Ceresmon commented, breaking the silence with a more relaxed tone. There was a hint of pride in her voice, as if with each word she was underscoring the uniqueness of Deramon's kingdom. "However, this particular variety is special. Deramon doesn't allow it to be exported to other places." She paused, savoring the control her kingdom held over such a prized beverage. "At most, he lets his guests try it on special occasions."
Dianamon nodded silently, continuing to drink. There was no need to say anything more. She knew that sharing this tea was not a simple courtesy, but a subtle display of the exclusivity and power that Deramon wished to project. Every sip reminded her that while the kingdom might appear to be a paradise, it was full of subtleties and tensions beneath its floral surface.
"Well, let's get to the matter at hand," Ceresmon finally said, with that casual tone that always preceded something far more serious. Dianamon felt a lump in her throat as she swallowed, maintaining her firm posture despite the growing tension she felt under her skin. "I understand you wanted to warn your dear friend Cherubimon about the danger looming over him, but as you can imagine, betraying your family isn't the right thing to do." Ceresmon paused, glancing at Dianamon out of the corner of her eye, evaluating each small reaction. "Besides, personally, I don't like Cherubimon. Maybe it's because he had me captive for years... Anyway..."
As expected, Ceresmon began to ramble, following her habit of getting lost in irrelevant details before addressing the real issue. Dianamon recalled, with a mix of frustration and resignation, the long Olympian meetings, where Ceresmon would go on endless tangents before finally landing on the central matter, making everyone wait with her rhetoric.
"That said, let's get on to my demands. You'll need to follow them rigorously and adhere to them strictly if you don't want me to reveal everything you've done."
The silence that followed those words grew heavier. Dianamon nodded, though she felt the weight of that warning like a chain around her neck. Every word from Ceresmon was carefully measured, imbued with a latent threat. The Olympian pulled a small paper from her pocket, unfolding it slowly, as if enjoying the suspense. It was a list. It didn't seem very long, but Dianamon knew that length didn't always indicate the magnitude of what was to come.
"First, and obviously," Ceresmon began, running her eyes over the list as she spoke, "in every Olympian meeting, you must agree with me and support all the decisions I make." The demand seemed almost predictable; it was logical that she would ask for political support in such a competitive group. Dianamon nodded again. It didn't seem like a particularly terrible request, though she knew that every commitment came with unforeseen consequences.
"Without exception," Ceresmon added, her tone suddenly hardening, emphasizing the seriousness of the request. The look she shot Dianamon made it clear that there would be no room for error.
"The next one is a bit more complicated," Ceresmon continued, crossing her arms in a calculated gesture. "But again, it's about giving me your unconditional support and total submission." A mocking smile appeared on her face, and then she laughed softly, as if the very idea of "submission" was ironically amusing, knowing well what those words meant to someone like Dianamon.
Dianamon's gaze hardened, and for a brief moment, her eyes shone with contained anger, though she managed to keep her voice calm.
"As you've probably noticed, I don't plan on spending the rest of my life begging for Deramon's charity," Ceresmon continued, ignoring her companion's reaction and returning to her usual tone, a mix of arrogance and determination.
"So you want a territory to rule, like the rest of us," Dianamon responded, with intentional neutrality, though she already sensed where the conversation was headed.
"Exactly," Ceresmon confirmed with a broad smile, her fangs slightly visible. "But I don't want small islands like those Neptunemon or Venusmon possess, nor a closed-off palace with no influence like Mercurymon's." Her gaze intensified, locking onto Dianamon's eyes. "I want something bigger. Like you."
Dianamon held Ceresmon's gaze, though inside she was quickly processing the implications of that statement. Ceresmon's desire for a territory as vast and significant as the Moon was a request that could unleash a series of complications, not just for her, but for the entire balance of power among the Olympians. Ceresmon's ambition was no surprise, but the scale of her demands was.
"Like me..." the goddess whispered, feeling the weight of those words. Governing a territory as vast as hers would not be an easy task, much less ceding a part of that power.
"At the next meeting, I'm going to propose the conquest of a new zone for myself," Ceresmon declared with a confidence that bordered on recklessness.
Dianamon frowned, considering the potential consequences of such a rash measure. Conquering a new zone could jeopardize not only the Olympians' stability but the delicate balance between the different factions and territories of Digimon. If Ceresmon targeted an already-governed region, the conflict could escalate into a war that wouldn't be limited to the Olympians but could involve many other important Digimon.
"Do you have one in mind?" Dianamon finally asked, trying to keep the conversation under control. She knew she would have no choice but to do what Ceresmon wanted, but at least she could try to influence the choice of territory, thus avoiding a larger catastrophe.
"Not really," Ceresmon responded with a carefree smile. "I was hoping you'd give me some suggestions."
"Nothing comes to mind right now," Dianamon replied quickly, her mind working at full speed. "But I'll think about it."
"You have until the day of the meeting to suggest one or several zones that suit me..." Ceresmon said, letting out a laugh that echoed in the air like the crackling of an approaching storm.
Dianamon nodded, feeling the pressure Ceresmon had just placed on her shoulders. Time was running short, and the shadow of a new conflict was beginning to loom on the horizon.
"And with that..." Ceresmon paused briefly. "That brings us to the final point... I have something to show you."
Ceresmon searched through the folds of her imposing garment, with a mix of urgency and reverence. Her usually coarse and firm claws trembled slightly as she found what she was looking for. She held it carefully, pressing it against her chest as if it were the most valuable thing in the world—something beyond mere power or ambition, which usually guided her. Slowly, she opened her claws, revealing a faint glow flickering between shades of pink and purple. The light was warm, familiar, and painful at the same time, evoking memories that both Dianamon and Ceresmon knew all too well. It was a cluster of data, poorly preserved, compressed in a crude, almost primitive way. The fragility of that digital form barely contained contrasted with the vastness of Ceresmon's figure. Unable to suppress her emotions, a tear silently rolled down her cheek.
Flashback:
The mist that covered the valley that fateful day was dense, almost suffocating, as the green figure of her attacker disappeared into the depths of the forest, satisfied with having completed its mission. Ceresmon had barely processed what had happened. She quickly knelt beside her companion, her large body barely aware of the chaos surrounding her. The trees whispered in the wind, but for her, there was only the fallen body at her feet. Her loyal companion, who had leaped to stand in the way at the last moment, taking the blow that would have undoubtedly ended her life.
The alcohol in her friend's system—his habit of drinking at the most inappropriate times—had given him the courage, or perhaps the clumsiness, to act impulsively. Ceresmon never knew if he had done it out of bravery or sheer foolishness, but what she did know was that she owed him her life for that gesture. The wound across his torso was deep, a clean cut that could only have been made by a sword sharpened with lethal intent. They both understood, without needing to speak: there was no time, nor hope of survival. The data forming her companion's body was already starting to disintegrate, breaking down into a faint glow that floated in the air, scattering with the wind.
Ceresmon couldn't allow it. Without thinking twice, she threw herself onto the cluster of data, extending her hands to catch it, almost as if she could grasp her friend's soul, what was left of him. She knew that once the data dispersed across the valley, it would be impossible to recover. Her mind raced toward ancient knowledge, nearly forgotten secrets she had learned about the Digimon life cycle, and about the strange plants that, with the right combination, could retain fragments of data, like vessels for the soul. She hurried to use those plants, extracting leaves and roots from the ground with desperate precision.
Yet, as her plan advanced, a deep doubt gnawed at her: Was this process reversible? Could she one day bring her friend back to life, or was all this just a way of clinging to something unrecoverable? Her friend's body continued to fade before her eyes, while she, racing against time, sealed the data in a small, improvised container. The final moments were a mixture of hope and despair, gratitude and pain.
End of Flashback.
Ceresmon blinked, returning to the present. The glow of the data still floated in her hands, encapsulated in that small jar she had kept since then. She looked at it with restrained sadness, remembering her friend's sacrifice and the promise she had made to herself to one day bring him back. A second tear followed the path of the first, while the silence around her spoke volumes.
"Is that what I think it is?" Dianamon asked, her voice filled with incredulity. The glow between Ceresmon's fingers seemed to defy all logic, all possibility.
Ceresmon looked at her with a mixture of desperation and determination. The glow in her claws, that cluster of data, was a remnant of something that should have remained in the past. Yet there it was, as tangible as the air they breathed.
"I want to bring him back, Dianamon. I need him." Ceresmon paused, her voice trembling slightly. "We need him."
The air between them grew denser, laden with promises and unspoken warnings. Dianamon swallowed, trying to process what she had just heard. She knew Ceresmon wasn't one to ask for help lightly, especially in something so delicate, so personal.
"I must admit, Ceresmon," Dianamon finally said in a measured tone, "I think Minervamon would be more suitable for this task. I'm not sure I have the necessary knowledge to help you. This... this is beyond my capabilities."
Ceresmon frowned, visibly irritated by the mention of Minervamon. Her gaze darkened, and her usual composure began to crumble.
"At least try." The goddess of nature was not accustomed to defeat, especially in matters so vital. "Minervamon can be... difficult, especially with such grim matters. I don't want to deal with her temperament."
Dianamon nodded, though she still harbored doubts. The secrets Minervamon held about life and death made her ideal but also unpredictable.
"I'll consult some books," she finally responded, more to reassure Ceresmon than out of true conviction.
"One thing, though," Ceresmon quickly added, her tone taking on a darker shade. "Don't mention this to Cherubimon. I'm sure you're thinking that maybe he could help with this. But no. He must know nothing about this."
Dianamon tensed, because indeed, that had been her first thought. Cherubimon, with his vast knowledge, seemed the most logical ally. However, Ceresmon's words left no room for discussion.
"I understand," she finally replied. Her mind worked silently, mapping out possible paths that didn't involve her old ally.
The silence that followed was uncomfortable, laden with everything that couldn't be said. For the first time, Ceresmon seemed vulnerable, clinging to that small light that contained the remnants of her friend.
"You may go," Ceresmon said without lifting her gaze. "I have nothing more to tell you, for now."
Dianamon stood up, her movements deliberately slow, as if trying to soften her exit. She knew this conversation wouldn't end here. Ceresmon's request was far from simple, and the implications were even more complex.
"When will we meet again?" Dianamon asked, not just out of courtesy, but because she needed to know how much time she had before facing the inevitable.
"For now, on the day of the meeting," Ceresmon replied, while stroking the glowing data in her hands, "unless I think of another favor to ask you. It's not convenient for us to meet too often. We've never been close friends, have we?"
Dianamon gave a faint, bitter smile.
"I've never been close friends with any of the Olympians, Ceresmon," she said in a dry tone, though without hostility.
Ceresmon looked at her, a flash of surprise and confusion crossing her face.
"And Apollomon?" she asked, as if that name alone could break the barrier between them.
Dianamon glanced at her coldly, with her usual calculated detachment.
"He's my brother. It's different."
The silence that followed was even more tense. Ceresmon frowned, evidently frustrated. She couldn't grasp the complexities of Dianamon's relationships.
"I still don't understand you," Ceresmon said, almost as if talking to herself.
"Do you have true friends among the Olympians?" Dianamon asked, knowing that the answer would be as empty as her own statement.
"I have Neptunemon."
Dianamon let out a silent sigh and shook her head.
"He doesn't count, and you know exactly why."
Ceresmon pressed her lips together, not replying. Dianamon realized that Ceresmon probably didn't know about Neptunemon's marriage, and at that moment, she decided it wasn't her place to reveal it. Any reaction from Ceresmon wouldn't be pleasant. No, it was better to leave that matter buried.
"As I said, you may go."
Dianamon finally stood, carefully placing the chair back in its place. She turned, walking away calmly, though her heart longed to rush and leave that conversation behind as quickly as possible.
As she left, Ceresmon's voice reached her like an echo.
"You've given me a lot to think about, Dianamon."
Without responding, the goddess continued her march, leaving the Valley of Deramon behind, though something much heavier now accompanied her.