Chapter 128 - Honesty
Spice ran through at least four distortions once they'd passed through the entrance to Fae Fae Forest. Leo's panting was ragged and Angelo had collapsed long ago, only to be carried and hauled forward by Phol. The Incineroar was holding up better than most, though he was still bleeding slightly from the cursed attacks they'd taken.
"Stop," Spice said in a quick bark.
Leo stumbled and collapsed against a tree, panting even more before going to his knees. He'd nearly bumped into her from behind. "Why'd… you say that? Oogh, the fatigue's catching up already…"
"Take a rest," Spice glanced around for supplies, but of course Fae Fae Forest had also become cursed. There would not be any hospitality to be found inside, not easily at least. "I don't think Lugia can find us for a while if we stay here. Big Pokémon like her… It'll take a while for her to traverse a Dungeon."
Phol set Angelo against another pastel-colored tree. The Smeargle's fur was covered in Phol's blood, looking completely ragged, but Phol himself was also slumped over.
"Phol, take some of this." She offered another wax-sugar vial. "Oran potion. It's really potent… Will probably do wonders for you."
"Blessed?" Phol asked.
"No. So, it'll take time. Just try it."
He nodded, biting into the potion and downing it in one go. The relief was gradual, but his posture eventually straightened. He tentatively flexed his arms; the bleeding had stopped.
Spice leaned against a tree and sank down, relaxing a little. Pastel-rainbow colored tree bark surrounded them, the leaves a solid teal or ocean green. Occasionally, distant giggles—apparently a product of the Dungeon—disrupted the tranquil silence. It was a reprieve after all the running, all that chaos. She still wasn't tired; not even sleepy as Leo had always worried about. But really, he should stop pressing her on it.
She still ruminated over the mess that she'd caused with him getting touched by that darkness. Of course, it wouldn't do anything to her, but she should have been more cautious about Leo. He was normal. He was mortal, just an innocent Heart.
Why did he have to be so stubborn, getting involved in her problems like this? She missed when everything was normal and she could live a normal life in a normal family. Sugar was always so kind.
They were fine. Spice knew where they evacuated, and they were fine. The area she'd gone had so little darkness. And Lugia felt far away, too. She couldn't sense her great, dark aura anymore, either. Perhaps many sections of the Dungeon away, or perhaps still reeling from what had happened.
Tanneth still didn't emerge from her capsule, but at least she was away from whatever Lugia wanted to do with her. Spice didn't know what was going on with that not-Vaporeon-maybe-Lugia fragment, but all that mattered was she was safe.
Spice looked at her claws again, trying desperately to will the shadowy colors away from her, but exposure to the crater made hiding it impossible. All the questions kept coming back to her. Maybe being away from town was a blessing in disguise, not that she could ever be blessed. Ever.
A warm hand touched hers and she flinched.
It was Leo, smiling at her. Skies, how long had she been looking so troubled? Could he even tell with her new face? And he looked so tired. He shouldn't have been expending so much energy on trying to cheer her up. All she had to do was play dumb again. "Hey, don't go asking me if I'm fine again," she said once again.
"How are we?" Phol spoke up using his medical tone.
"Surviving," Leo croaked.
"Dying," Angelo said offhandedly, and then he retched behind a tree root.
"Trouble," Brandon called from ahead, having scouted just in case. "Wraiths incoming from… Uh, everywhere."
Spice cursed and drew two spikes from her bag, twirling them to intimidate. She didn't know if that would work. Why did she even think they'd have enough time to recover?
The dark, shapeless bodies of the wraiths stood out against the bright colors of the forest, like spilled ink over a watercolor painting. They were hostile. They were always hostile. She had to make a show of it.
"Back off!" Spice commanded. "We'll just fight you. And I won't make it painless, either!"
The wraiths had been advancing, but they all stopped when Spice shouted. Which, really, she hadn't been expecting. At least a little hostility…
But then she realized her appearance and cursed. She should have thrown the spike first.
She made eye contact with one of the wraiths, staring at that faceless body, wondering why it felt like it was staring back at her. Eye contact with no eyes. It was like staring into the Void Basin. Familiar, comforting. Now that she thought about it, when the southern kingdom had never been blessed, the wraiths never bothered her, and she always wandered unharmed into Dungeons. Because that was natural. She always would—but that would be dangerous for Spice. Going into Dungeons was supposed to be dangerous for everyone. But not for her.
No, it was—she was normal. She lived a normal life and just happened to not be bothered by darkness or the wraiths or the madness-inducing Basin or… or any of that. And everyone believed that, so it was true.
Spice was standing there, doing nothing, and the wraiths did the same. Paralyzed with indecision, and every second that ticked by seemed to claw at her psyche. It felt like things were crumbling around her and nobody knew it.
Normal, normal. Right, what was all of this? None of this made any sense! Why were the wraiths not attacking?!
Leo, Angelo, and Phol were all too exhausted to fight effectively. Brandon was putting up a display, but he also seemed tired, and didn't look willing to send out his spirits against wraiths. Guardian spirits were apparently very vulnerable to corruption against them. So, in the end, it really was just Spice who could do her best against the others…
"They stopped?" Angelo whispered. "Why did they stop? They never stop!"
"Shh," Spice growled. Strange feelings were welling up inside her and she didn't know where or why.
If she attacked, they might attack back. She'd get them all killed, even if she survived. She… she couldn't afford that.
It was time. Maybe she could play it off. She was following an instinct, an intuition. Nothing more. "…Leave us alone. We aren't worth fighting. And they're my friends. Understand?" Spice gestured to her team.
Nothing at first, but then the wraiths disbanded after a long, tense, windless silence. They went in the opposite direction. A few remained behind, but they, too, slithered away. Spice took several moments in that quiet to sort through her thoughts, shove most of them away, and tell herself that this was unexpected, lucky, and abnormal, and that none of it made sense.
"S…Spice?" Leo whispered.
"Don't ask. I won't have an answer, either."
She then pointed at one of the wraiths. "You." Suddenly, it jolted upright, as if standing to attention. "Gather food for us. Get a team to find anything valuable here and bring it here. Understand?"
Yes, ma'am! And it left.
Ma'am? Spice growled.
"Wh-what did it say?" Angelo asked as they were left alone. "It just… shrieked at us and left! S-Spice…"
She turned around, tracing a claw along her dark chest, around the gemstone in her.
"Spice…" Leo looked at her uneasily. They all did. But Leo's was the weakest, like he was conflicted. Then, his gaze hardened, and he nodded. "Whatever's happening…"
"I really don't know," Spice said quickly. A hint of desperation broke through her voice, because she didn't realize until just then that her actions might have cost her a position on the team, not just her façade. Communicating with wraiths, commanding them, and it worked? And she looked just like them. "Please, you have to—"
Leo shook his head. "Spice, I'm worried about you."
"Leo, I—"
"I trust you, Spice."
She flinched. Hadn't been expecting that. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but she couldn't find the right sentence.
"Think back… Why? Why is this happening? Maybe we can use this."
"What?"
"You can command wraiths! Think back to why, and… and maybe we can turn this fight around with it! As long as it's not some… strange weakness or trick of that demon." Leo's tone was forced, and he looked at Phol, Brandon, and Angelo next.
"I… don't know," Spice replied, a little weaker this time. Because she didn't know. Spice never knew what any of this was. She was just a normal Salandit who grew up in a normal, southern family with two Salandit sisters. She didn't remember anything before that. She couldn't. "It just happened. I was always like this."
"Spice…" Leo took a step closer. Brandon and Phol stood up, guarded. Angelo was terrified into paralysis.
"Leo, don't get too close," Phol murmured, uncertainty in his eyes, too. "Spice… This is a step too far. You commanded those wraiths casually, like you knew it would work."
"I didn't know it would work. I was desperate. I would have tried anything, so I tried that. It wasn't like we were going to fight. So that's it, okay? I got lucky."
Nobody believed that. Not even her.
No no no no no.
It was all falling apart.
She should have diverted them. Made a decoy of herself. Said that she lost them in the chaos, and come back to save them later. Anything. Anything else. She wanted to rewind time. Try again. But she couldn't.
"Wraiths can mimic people," Phol said to Leo, and suddenly it was like a horrible, grinding, gripping feeling clutched at Spice's chest. She couldn't breathe; her eyes were wide. Everything was cold like the deepest depths of the ocean.
"What?" Leo asked.
"In all this commotion, what if a wraith separated Spice from us?" Phol eyed her suspiciously.
Spice said nothing. Her mind raced even faster. If she behaved like a wraith now, she could run, and go around from the back and say she'd gotten lost. That'd be perfect! But her legs didn't respond. She never had the instinct to flee, always fight, in the face of adversity.
"She's… a f-fake?" Angelo squeaked. "Wraiths can do that?"
"Powerful ones can," Phol said. "They can mimic basic personality traits, too. Didn't think I would ever put that knowledge to use ever since Anam blessed all the Dungeons, but… Well, they aren't blessed anymore."
She was still paralyzed. Her eyes darted all around, as if searching for the words. Something deep, deep in her mind was unraveling, like she was feeling something slipping away from her. Without realizing it at first, her arms wrapped around herself.
"C'mon, I kept a good eye on you guys," Brandon muttered. "Mostly. I mean, sure, I was at the front, but I glanced back and stuff. We would've noticed something like that. And we're too strong to get picked off like that! Especially Spice."
They stared at her expectantly. Like she had some way to prove it. Her vision was focusing on just their faces and nothing else. The forest was a mesh of twisted, bright colors.
"I'm Spice," she told them. The Heart who saved people from fires and lit the way forward in the dark. The partner to Leo, Team Alight's leader. Sister of Sugar, aunt of Saffron. "I'm… I'm Spice. You have to…"
Dark. Cold. She couldn't focus on anything anymore. All because she commanded those wraiths, when they were desperate, when there was nothing else she could have done. She had to! She had to! She stopped paying attention to them, once again desperately burying thoughts down.
But in the end, she'd taken it all in stride so well. Shrugging everything off, saying it was nothing to worry about; not needing sleep, the black Protect, any single one of those would have made a normal person worry. Perhaps Spice's mistake was trying to shrug it off.
"Leo," Phol yelped, "STOP!"
"Oh, enough!" Leo spat, and then Spice felt a warmth around her. His fur. His robe-like fur. His thin frame, his trembling body, but it wasn't from fear. She would have felt that. No, this was fatigue. "Spice…"
His paws ran down her head, then her back. Without thinking, she leaned into him. He went to his knees and fell; startled, Spice caught him and eased the Delphox the rest of the way down.
"Sorry," Leo said with a titter. "I'm… so tired. I haven't run like this in a while. Some Heart I am…"
"L… Leo…"
"Leo, this… this is reckless," Phol said, but now his words had less fire in them.
"Spice," Leo said, "do you remember why you came up with our team name? Team Alight?"
"…I thought you came up with that," Spice murmured, ashamed at how quiet her voice was. She forced the words out with more assertiveness, "You did! You said…" And she lost it again. Her voice hitched. Wincing, she said, "What's this, some kind of test?"
"I guess it was," Leo replied. "For them… not for me."
"What, you gonna tell us your 'Psychic empathy' is telling you it's really her, or something?" Brandon asked, huffing. "That's cheating, you know."
"No," Leo growled. "I was directly behind her the whole time. This isn't exactly a dark Dungeon."
"…Oh." Brandon's hand clanged when it rubbed the back of his head. "Gods, I'm out of it."
"Spice," Leo whispered, "I've been thinking for a while about… your condition. Your sleepless nights, but having no fatigue for it. That blessed items simply never worked for you. And all of those other things…"
"Leo, enough. I'm fine. Please… drop it."
"You didn't want any of us to find out… did you? That you're—"
"Please," Spice begged, "please, don't."
She didn't want to hear it. That would shatter everything. It would ruin that perfect normal life she'd built for herself.
She felt sick. Sicker than she'd felt in so long. Angelo's terrified expression couldn't escape her attention, even as she squeezed her eyes shut and focused entirely on the warmth of Leo's fur. Phol's skeptical gaze, like he would drive her away the moment she made a sudden move.
Brandon shifted his weight, mumbling something that Spice couldn't hear to Phol. Phol murmured back, and Brandon said something a little louder. Angelo whimpered at them both.
Finally, "Man, I hate secrets," Brandon said loudly, hands behind his head. "Alright, Salazzle. How about this? What do we gotta do for the truth? I'll pay you… two dinners. Most expensive one you can get! Under three thousand Poké."
Phol narrowed his eyes at Brandon. "Was that a joke?"
Brandon shrugged. "Trying to lighten the mood is all…"
Leo chuckled. "Lighten the mood… I hope that doesn't offend you, Spice."
Spice blinked, looking at Leo, who was smiling at her.
And that's when Spice realized he knew.
He knew.
No. No, he couldn't have. He wouldn't have. If he did, he would have killed her.
"Spice… please," he whispered, holding her hands.
That was why he wanted her to talk about it. Why he'd sent the rest of his team on less dangerous missions, away from the battles. They weren't as strong anyway. Not like the two of them. Was he waiting for her to admit it? To explain? But… But why?
"How long do you think it will take," Leo said, "for those wraiths to return?"
"What?"
"They're gathering for us, right?" Leo asked.
"They… they are."
Leo waited.
"A-about… about, I don't know. A kilo or two. It's not a very big Dungeon…"
"I guess that'll buy us some time to relax," Brandon said. "Right?" He glanced at Phol. Or, at this point, stared.
In some ways, Spice respected Phol's caution. But that didn't make it hurt any less. She felt so exposed, like fighting an outlaw without her equipment.
"Will you tell me later?" Leo asked. "Privately."
The tightness was loosening. She could breathe properly again. Her emerald heart flickered with an echo of light. She wrapped her arms tighter around him, pulling him close, and sobbed. But she refused to make any noise out of it, so only Leo would be able to hear. He reciprocated by bringing his arms over her back, resting his muzzle behind her neck.
"It's okay," he whispered. "You're a Heart. You're part of Team Alight. And you've saved so many lives. Nothing will take that away." He leaned close. "You're Spice. Even if you're a wraith, you're Spice."
So, he really did know.
Gods, she was an idiot to think he was that oblivious.
It all collapsed. Decades of work, gone. Her guard went down. Actual whimpers escaped her that time, a hitched gasp and blubber, an ugly little cry that she prayed everyone would forget.
Brandon elbowed Phol on the side and muttered, "Can a wraith mimic that?"
Phol sighed, relenting. "I suppose not. I'm… sorry, Spice. Whatever this is, just explain yourself, and we can move on. Maybe even use it. I'm… not mad. I'm just confused." When Brandon gave him an impatient look, the Incineroar added, "But it can wait for now."
Angelo just seemed confused, but understood enough that he was relaxed.
"Let's get some rest," Leo said gently.
She held him for a while longer. Everything felt exposed and open and confusing and inside-out. But there was a lightness to it, too, that was similar to all those times—most of her life, really—when she'd forgotten about it all. When pretending to be normal became… normal.
Yet it all seemed so different as she thought back to all the times Leo had pressed for her to say more when they were alone, nobody else around. She was cursed, but she'd used that to save her team. And she was lucky that they didn't drive her away right after. Perhaps that was what it meant for Leo to be a Heart.
As she leaned into Leo's body, she let the tears silently flow. For the first time, she truly felt blessed.
Zena slept with Enet that night, leaving her normal bedding for the lone Charmander. What was once an odd comfort, twisted as it was, had become a surreal and nauseating experience to see someone in Owen's likeness yet with the countenance of that thing inside those eyes.
At least Enet was warm. And she had to admit, having someone big and warm was a nice comfort. In an odd way, Enet reminded her of Owen in ways she couldn't describe.
They'd taken shifts keeping an eye on Dark Matter for the rest of the day. Eventually, after being certain that he was truly asleep, they relaxed their guard. Amia—Evelyn, as she confusedly insisted—chatted politely with Alex, having no clear memory of who he was. It was painful to watch, but Zena could relate, and she occasionally visited to give them food or something to drink. While the Ralts knew little about Alex, Zena could tell there were still feelings that Dark Matter's amnesia had not erased, echoing her love for Alex, keeping her engaged in conversation. It was a small, but powerful, beacon of hope that she could yet be restored.
Marshadow had been found battered from a series of explosions that he hadn't even been certain the origin of, only that Owen had been extremely fast in creating them. With the fighting over, he'd become docile again, but it would be some time before they could verify with Dark Matter if that was true. That was, if they could trust his word.
The other Legends were nearly comatose and barely responsive. Xerneas, Giratina, and Yveltal had been rescued from their Titanic prisons. Between them, Dialga, and Palkia, it felt like some of the greatest in the pantheon were slowly being rescued. Latias and Dialga worked some healing and time abilities to accelerate their recoveries, but even with their powers combined, it seemed like it would take a while. Getting a smiting Judgement by Arceus was not as gentle as the attacks brought down by the light crystals. Because of that, Giratina was recovering faster than the rest.
Hakk and Jerry finally returned later in the day. According to Hakk, they had made arrangements with the guards for a proper burial later to honor his memory, considering Xypher to be lost to the Voidlands. If his memories could no longer live with Xypher, then they could live with Hakk and those who knew him.
Zena wasn't sure how to comfort Hakk other than to offer condolences and favors. He accepted none and asked to be left alone, though he did thank her anyway. That would do. She would check on him later, perhaps bring a simple meal.
She really couldn't imagine the loss he felt. How long had he and Xypher spent together? How much time nursing Xypher's memories, all for it to…
A cold nose pressed against Zena's cheek, making her flinch. "H-huh?"
Enet stared at her.
"Oh. Enet. I'm sorry. Am I taking up too much space?"
She stared longer, then crawled over Zena and curled up under her chin. "Sad."
"Sad?" Only then did Zena realize that she'd been crying. "Oh, I—really, it's…" Why bother hiding it? She took a shaking breath and lowered her guard. Enet growled comfortingly, embracing her. It really did remind her of Owen. "I'm sorry. It has been a lot lately." Her ribbons wiped at her face. She winced a little at how one seemed off-color, the one that had been torn away by Alexander's dark power.
"It's okay." Enet nuzzled against her, but then eyed Dark Matter on the other side of the bed. Amia had been moved to the common area where they slept in makeshift beds made from the seats. Alex had been bold enough to ask to share a bed with her, and she had gladly complied.
Enet's ear twitched and she focused harder on Dark Matter.
"Is something wrong?" Zena asked.
The Zoroark crawled to Dark Matter and Zena, more alert, slithered to follow. "Be careful, now," she said. "He's…"
"Crying, too."
Little tears in the corners of his eyes were unmistakable. But was she supposed to care about that? She did, but it felt… wrong to.
"Excuse me," Zena said. "Dark Matter?"
"Please… please, leave me be…"
"You're crying," Zena said, and then, grudgingly, she added, "Are you hurt?"
"Go away… Please. Let me rest…"
He was curling up more, hiding under a thin sheet that had been given to him at some point during the night. They'd left the door unlocked in case they needed to immediately enter for some trouble. If Zena had to guess, Demitri had come in to offer it.
"Were you unable to sleep?" Zena clarified.
"I slept," Dark Matter said, and he didn't elaborate.
Enet tilted her head, ears flicking. Then, she curled around the bed, sniffing at Dark Matter's head. He curled up again, flashing a glare. Eventually, Enet left him alone, disappearing into the common area.
It was just Zena and Dark Matter. It occurred to her how dangerous this was. If he so wanted, he could silently take advantage of this moment. She locked her eyes on the sleeping, trembling thing under the covers, but he didn't change his behavior at all. Not even a hint of him rising.
Perhaps a whole kilo had passed in that silence. Zena wondered if she would have to go to work. She wasn't sure if all of the workforce had… survived. If any of them had. If the building had. The early morning had all been a blur of recovery and they hadn't even started half of it. Dark Matter had been bedridden all that time.
Dark Matter stirred, sticking his head out from under the covers. His tail flopped out the other end, the black ember burning steadily. The tears were gone, now, and he was back to that blank, perhaps grumpy expression, like a child punished for some trivial misdeed. But it was calmer than she'd ever seen him.
"Did you need extra sleep?" Zena said. "I didn't know such a thing was possible for… someone of your composition."
"It isn't," Dark Matter grunted. "It's this… body. This fragment that I am. It's… twisted by the influence of other essences. Of Owen's, when he struck me with light."
"I see." Zena nodded. "You were in tears. Does that light hurt?"
"Yes." Dark Matter clenched his fists. "It hurts. It will always hurt. It hurts as we speak."
She didn't know how to respond to that. What a miserable existence. It was no wonder he—no, no. She couldn't sympathize with him like that. She'd spent a miserable experience alone and she hadn't been wishing for the world to end for it.
At least, she thought so. Perhaps at moments of weakness…
"And," Dark Matter said, "it… was comforting. Being under the covers. Warm. Resting, asleep. Safe."
"Well… I suppose so," Zena replied, puzzled. "Sleep refreshes you, if you didn't know."
"I do. But you don't understand." Dark Matter curled up. "Of course you wouldn't."
"Then enlighten—explain to me."
He grumbled at her. "…Think, Guardian. Warmth, comfort, recovery. The smallest… hint of…"
This cryptic puzzle was tiring, but Dark Matter was actually humoring her with it. The least she owed was to give it a try. All of that seemed like the natural reaction to sleep. What of it?
Natural… reaction.
"You… aren't supposed to feel those things," Zena concluded.
He was sitting up, now, that thin veil draped over his shoulders, making him look several decades older. "That was the first time," he said, "in my entire, long existence, that I… that I felt… that I felt that. Any of that."
"Oh."
Silence. They said nothing. And she didn't know what to say. How old was Dark Matter? How long had that only been a fantasy to him, that the rest of all existence taunted him with?
"Is it because of that light?" Zena asked.
"…It… twisted me inside." He looked at his knees, now. "My spirit is not meant for light. Any positive emotion, it… it makes that light flare up. It hurt, oh, it hurt, but I… I couldn't stop. I feared that if I woke up, I would… That feeling would go away forever. I don't know how long it lasts."
"But it hurt?" Zena clarified.
"Of course it hurt. Everything hurts." He waved dismissively. "But beneath that, those… n-new things. I needed… I needed more. I needed more, Guardian."
Then was that what was needed? Light? But such a minute amount, and with the influence of a mortal body. Dark Matter was given a gift of that smallest hint of it from Owen, at the hefty price of his power and stability. Even now, Zena saw that little wince of pain every time he ran his claws over the warm blankets. Yet Dark Matter still did it, for that tiny iota of comfort beneath the pain.
That wasn't very fair, now was it?
"Then do you see?" Zena asked, this time with actual gentleness in her tone. "If we can work things out with the gods… We can fix what you've done. And we can help you with your… aversion to light. Make things tolerable."
Dark Matter's ill-defined shoulders slumped, and Zena had a feeling he'd heard this many times before. Still, this was different. It had to be! "You have proof, don't you? Isn't this groundbreaking?"
"Perhaps it is," Dark Matter said, "but… Mmph. I can't feel hope for my future."
Zena sighed.
"No. Do not misunderstand me. I cannot… or… should not. Because… I am still unstable. Too much of this… positivity… and I would be writhing in pain from this seed of light in my core. And this… hope you are talking about… That could be fatal. I cannot feel it. I must… become stronger for that."
It was so foreign to her. Calculating when to feel hope, when he could afford it? When he had the strength to feel hope? Hope was what gave people strength, and yet Dark Matter needed to build strength to handle it. How backwards… And this was how he lived all the time?
Incomprehensible…
And yet, now she understood why Owen had been so conflicted.
"Tell me why he spared you," Zena said.
Dark Matter sighed loudly.
"No," she amended. "…Do not misunderstand me."
"Don't think you're clever," he muttered.
Zena huffed. "I want to know why. When we find Owen, he will tell me the same anyway, won't he? Please… Tell me about your history."
Somewhere outside in the common area, something sizzled loudly. Demitri was cooking something savory and she wanted to investigate, but she felt it would be rude to leave now. She waited for Dark Matter's response.
"You know him well enough," Dark Matter said. "He found me by chance while meditating. Traveling the world to learn more about it on Necrozma's behest. Or maybe it was an inevitability, with how thoroughly he had to travel…"
Zena nodded slowly, and then a floating bowl of food entered their room.
"Enet?" Zena guessed, and then the bowl of food set itself down in front of Dark Matter. The Zoroark appeared as the bowl was set down, a gradient of visibility starting from her arms and ending at the tip of her mane.
"Eat," she said.
The little Charmander stared at it with a furrowed brow, like he was trying to solve a math problem.
"What is this," he stated, like it was insulting him, rather than a question.
"Food. Soup." Enet nodded. "Heart-y."
"No," he said, gesturing to the bowl again. "What is this. Why?"
"Enet sensed that you're tired," Zena answered, "if I had to guess."
Hesitantly, he picked up the bowl, but his hands trembled. It wasn't from some strange panic, but fatigue; Dark Matter's ember was flickering, and the bowl was quite heavy for someone of his size.
"Ngh—"
It fell out of his hands, the bowl striking the ground, not shattering, but spilling its contents on the floor. Zena acted on reflex, her eyes flashing. The liquid froze in place, strong and thick enough that it also held the chunks of vegetables and meats in place. The spill funneled back into the bowl.
"You really do need energy," Zena murmured as Dark Matter stared at the bowl, then his trembling hands. Still, Zena couldn't… find it in her to do what was required next. She couldn't help him, not after…
Enet reached forward instead, picking up the bowl with one hand. With the other, she took Dark Matter's and placed it under, supporting the weight.
Zena wasn't sure why she felt ashamed just then. Gods, this was a mess…
"…Eat up," Zena finally said. "Gather your strength. You're going to be guiding us to Anam later?"
Dark Matter seemed to be lost to the soup for a while. Demitri's cooking must have really improved. When he finished his first heaping gulp, he winced, a dark fog leaking from the corner of his mouth.
"Are you all right?" Zena asked.
"Core acting up," Dark Matter grunted. The fog slowly dissipated. "…Yes. Later, I'll find Anam for you… He shouldn't be far. He is safe."
At this point she had to say it. Nobody else would, and by now she'd been the one to talk to him the most, short of Owen or Anam. It was odd to think of it that way, but really, had Dark Matter interacted with anyone else for this long before killing them, or… whatever he did?
"This is quite a change of heart from you."
It only annoyed him. Zena expected as much, but it had to be said. "I'm barely myself," he muttered back. "This light… changed me. It's changing how I feel things. These… thoughts. Intrusive. I don't like them."
"The bit of Owen," Zena said. "Is it his spirit?"
"No. But his influence." He looked at his claws again. "I can't say the same for the rest of me."
"The… rest?"
The soup was halfway gone, and he took a break to let it settle. He took slow breaths, and Enet let Dark Matter hold it on his own.
"I am only a fragment of Dark Matter. The part that Owen infected with light. Small enough that it doesn't shatter me, but large enough to hold myself together independently. A split soul." He eyed Zena, then Enet. "Well. You may not understand, Zena. But many of your friends will, soon."
"Split… souls," Zena echoed. "I don't understand."
"A soul can only exist in one reality at a time… The Voidlands are part of Kilo, two sides of the same plane, connected through Dungeons, just as it is connected to Kilo's own spirit realm. But that does not mean a spirit—the light that a soul manifests—cannot be split apart. While the soul is immaterial, connecting all of one's self together regardless of distance… the spirit, the part that creates aura when bound to a body, can be divided.
"You've already seen examples of this before with that Zygarde of yours. He is always splitting himself off into weaker versions of himself, but all together, he is one of the strongest forces at your disposal. He referred to himself as an Overseer… though that term is probably a self-assigned title for his natural role in the pantheon."
"Sub-sti-tute," Enet added.
"Mm. That is a weaker example… but one, too."
"Three?"
Dark Matter stared, then ignored her. "I am a tiny, weak fragment of my whole self. Alexander took most of me. And the rest… are scattered elsewhere." He closed his eyes. "I know how many there are… but I do not have their memories. And I am a blight to them, so they will not reply to anything I say, either. But I can sense… how many of me there are. Three… No, four, now, with Alexander. And the fifth one, myself."
"And you can't tell us where they are?"
Dark Matter shook his head. "I would if I could. You've given me… proof of concept. Something that I've never experienced before. I'm convinced. If only it could have been done sooner…"
"I doubt you would have accepted a sampling of light," Zena remarked.
"I wouldn't have. Owen would have had to do it by force. Anam would never have. He was too kind. Owen does not hold that same kindness."
"Owen's very kind," Zena defended.
Dark Matter sighed loudly. "You do not want to be as kind as Anam. Had it not been for my guidance or his raw power, he would have been a failure, taken advantage of by the wicked until he was left destitute." He stared at Zena, unflinching even as she scowled. "All it did was leave his world in ruins and his body left in a cave, surrounded by Void Shadows waiting for his light to fade."
"All due to your actions," Zena spat. "You did that. You ruined the world. You betrayed him."
"All true," Dark Matter said. "He was a fool to trust me. I told him time and time again that I would go against him the moment I could, and the moment I saw no progress in his vision."
"And he kept it up for how long?" Zena pressed. "…How long did Anam make Kilo a better place?"
"With my power aiding him," Dark Matter corrected slowly, "he subjugated local authorities and absorbed their societies into his own. He was able to quite literally waltz into the hearts of neighboring civilizations, destroy their morale, and take their people."
"Anam isn't a killer," Zena said. "He's… not a conqueror. Or are you saying that he wiped that history, too?"
Dark Matter snorted, and she was positive she'd seen him smile. "With all that happened, I could say it was, and you might believe me. But no." The smile disappeared. "There are indirect ways to destroy a hierarchy. Undermine leadership by doing everything they could do, better. Conjure miracles like they were mundane tasks and then give it all for free. Ask only for safe passage so that Kilo can seep into the local culture like dye into a flower petal."
"Is that not… sharing ways of life? Unifying the world? How did the Thousand Hearts' motto go again…"
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, unite the lands from worlds apart. That motto has become redundant for some time, but before, it was a drive to bring everyone in the world together. First with roads and maps, and then the Waypoint system to shrink the world into only a few short walks to any major location. As the world unifies, the individual parts lose their identity. Histories are neglected and forgotten."
"Just from Anam?" Zena asked. "You make it sound so sinister… but didn't Anam make the world a better place? He blessed Dungeons, enchanted equipment, all of that technology…"
"Mmph." Dark Matter sighed. "I only feel the negative aftereffects. Your list of the benefits… I don't know how much they weigh against the pain of those who felt their homes lose their identities. Their pride squashed. Their kingdoms assimilated. Jerry was once a prince, you know. Heir to the Pyrock Kingdom, now nothing but a village northeast of the Chasm."
"…And you let him do it," Zena said. "Why?"
"Anam showed how unification results in less negative feelings overall," Dark Matter said, shrugging. "It softened my pain. I had more than enough reason to help him, so I followed his command. It wasn't as if I had a choice otherwise…" He trailed off. "I… trusted him. I do not know… how. Perhaps his light had reached me enough to humor it all. Eventually, I turned my sense of negativity into a way to accelerate Anam's empire. When you know precisely how to cause civil unrest… with my absolute sense of negativity… collapsing authority is trivial."
"That's… awful," Zena had to admit. "You used your own knowledge of a world's problems to precisely…"
"Prod at their society's specific insecurities in a way a politician could only dream of? Yes. His kindness was in response to me telling him exactly what a society lacked. All I did was tell him how to do it, and he was none the wiser on the true effect it had on the ruling party."
After a long silence, Dark Matter bowed his head. "That is Anam's secret. It was not his strength, though that was useful. It was not some hidden, savant mind or overwhelming charisma that won over the hearts of the world. It was me, telling Anam precisely what good deeds he can perform to undermine everyone else. So long as Anam himself remained ignorant of this, even the greatest Psychic would see nothing but good intentions. A pure heart."
Demitri was sizzling something in the kitchen. Gahi shouted that breakfast was ready. Someone was approaching from the hall.
"And so, Anam invalidated every single other kingdom and won the hearts of the people. Those who resisted, he had the physical strength to defeat. And none could outsmart me, because I sensed their distaste before they even realized it themselves. Though," he muttered, "I believe the original spirits—the ones not originally native to Kilo—are… difficult for me to read. Those like Nevren… are not as firmly under my domain. Ngh. Regardless." Dark Matter glanced to the left to see Enet enter holding two more plates of food. "In the end," he addressed Zena, "Anam, during the Thousand Hearts' rise, was invincible. Physically, socially, and politically."
He took the smaller plate, which had a bowl of some kind of purple rice and unknown meat. Zena took a much larger bowl, but she wasn't sure if she had the appetite to try any of it.
Enet tilted her head, sitting next to Dark Matter. "Okay?" Enet asked Zena.
"I—I'm fine," she said. "I just… need to think."
"Mm." Dark Matter took a few bites. "Perhaps I could have eased you into it more."
"I just cannot believe that something like that is true. There must be more to it. I—the rulers, they must have been… corrupt, or…"
"Every single ruler?" Dark Matter. "By some miracle, only Anam was the greatest ruler, and all others were corrupt, power-hungry warmongers? Is that your rationalization?" He shook his head, sighing. "Deny, deny, deny. Mortals do love to rationalize their sins."
Zena hadn't even known the world for that long outside of her little cave, but she'd heard so much from Owen about it. This kind of news would be devastating to Demitri and Mispy. She only hoped they didn't—
"The walls are thin," Dark Matter said. "Everyone was listening."
"Oh, so you can read thoughts, too, can you?" Zena growled weakly. She felt sick.
"No. Just a good guess." Dark Matter glanced down the hall.
More footfalls. Heavier ones this time. And a low, constant noise of something large sliding across the ground—Mispy.
"You're wrong," the Meganium said, keeping her voice firm despite her stutter.
"Oh, joy." Dark Matter sighed, taking another bite. "Go on. Give me your platitudes."
She opened her mouth again, trying to say something. "You… misled him. He wouldn't…" Another long pause. Her scaly brows furrowed. Zena had never seen Mispy look so furious; she knew that look. But what did she want to say? With that kind of expression, Zena would have gone off on a tirade at Dark Matter. But for Mispy, the words simply didn't manifest.
"You think I'm wrong," Dark Matter said. "I misled him because I did not tell Anam the full situation. So, it's my fault."
Mispy snarled, but it wasn't aimed at him. She nodded, dejected.
"Perhaps you're right. But that doesn't change the truth of what happened. Do you really think Anam would have 'won over' the corrupt powers that dotted Kilo's landscape?"
"There's a better… better…" Mispy stumbled again. Demitri held her shoulder.
"You cannot play nice with tyrants," Dark Matter spat, "and peace treaties are written in blood. Anam asked me to help him save the world as quickly as possible from the Dungeon threat. I gave him the answer." He looked away. "To his credit, he talked me down from killing everyone as the initial solution."
"How is that a solution?" Zena asked.
"He asked to minimize my pain. I get my pain from others. The solution is to get rid of all others."
Demitri gaped. "That's not—"
"Yes, yes, I know." He waved Demitri away. "I heard it all from him many times. The other fragments of me don't agree, obviously."
Mispy whispered something to Demitri, and then the Haxorus said, "Then you're saying that… even though what Anam did was bad, or what you guided him to do was, um, underhanded… he still wasn't a tyrant? Still made the world safer, better?"
"Even if I wanted to be a cruel leader, Anam certainly would not have allowed it," Dark Matter stated. "I know my fair share of powerful rulers of old. How power corrupts their decisions. Having Anam as the ultimate world power for so many centuries is nothing short of a miracle." He leaned back. "I was only stating that the pristine history you believe from Anam is backed by underhanded deceit that any other great power would need. And as with any grand, sweeping change, innocents suffer for it."
"Was there… a better way?" Enet asked, tilting her head.
"They're saying no," Dark Matter grunted.
"Mn." She prodded him in the shoulder.
"Excuse me," he growled.
"You." She poked him again. "Do you think… a better way?"
"You want my opinion."
Enet gazed at him, eyes wide with curiosity.
The little Charmander seemed unnerved. "…With what I know, perhaps there could have been. But Anam… I suppose Anam did what he could to mitigate it. He is not evil. He can't be, after what he'd done to guide me."
Enet tilted her head the other way this time, ears flicking.
"What?"
"You said… you guide Anam."
"I did."
"Oh," Demitri whispered. "You said Anam guided you, too."
"Well, of course he did. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here now. Wouldn't have made the world he did."
"Proud?" Enet asked.
"I—" He flinched, then winced as black smoke leaked from the corners of his mouth. He coughed violently, plumes of the haze pouring onto the ground before dissipating. Everyone backed away, aside from Enet, who went closer to pat his shoulder. "Let's stop this conversation, please."
"Oh, a-are you okay?" Demitri fidgeted.
"Go away." Dark Matter wheezed, the stream of darkness subsiding. His flame was a little smaller, but still larger than when they'd gotten him. "I still need… to rest. Anam will be fine, and you need to help with restoring the town, don't you? By… later today. Lunch, or dinner, I'll be ready to go. And I feel someone calling me anyway."
"Someone—"
"Owen, it's Owen." He took a large gulp of his meal. "He said he wanted to sp—"
"You can talk to Owen?" Zena pressed.
"How is he?" Demitri asked just as quickly.
"Oi, what about Owen?!" Gahi teleported into the room.
"Owen?!" Eon called from the common area.
"OUT!"
He sent them all away, though Zena remained in the room so long as she promised to leave him alone. Enet, too, made herself scarce and curled up for some extra time napping.
Zena sighed. "Is he at least… doing well?"
"For now."
"I see…" She decided not to ask more. She didn't want to press her luck.
"…Mmh. By the way." Dark Matter opened one eye, staring at Zena, then empty space where Enet was.
"Yes?"
"You may call me Diyem."
To the void again. Owen waited patiently, peaceful like before, and took the time to meditate and ease his mind.
Eventually, Necrozma's glimmer of light appeared. Owen glanced around him and focused, conjuring a small, rocky landscape overlooking a false countryside. Far and away there was an ocean, but perhaps it was just a backdrop.
"Hey," Owen greeted.
"It's much easier to contact you now," Necrozma admitted.
Owen nodded. "I'm heading north, closer to you technically. You haven't been watching?"
"I conserved my strength for this."
"Oh, right." He squinted at Necrozma's bright body. "Does being that… big take up energy, too?"
"Well, no. This is all mental. Rhys and Elder did it all the time. They had quite a mental connection."
"I heard about that…" Owen frowned. "How long can you keep this up?"
"At this rate, a while…"
"Good." If that was the case, he could try something else next. Concentrating, he reached out again, just as he had tried earlier. Are you there?
What, what? grumbled another voice.
Necrozma sensed the presence and tensed, but Owen gave him a firm look. It didn't change anything, but Necrozma at least did not speak up. After some waiting and more grumbling, a dark flame appeared in the far distance, seemingly darker than the surrounding void that went beyond the hills of the landscape.
Once the dark clouds got closer, it was clearer that he was taking on the form of a Charmander with a glowing, red chest. He stared lazily forward, but then stopped when he saw Necrozma standing there.
He spun on his heel and started walking away.
"Hey, get back here!" Owen shouted.
Diyem growled and turned his head back so one eye could look at Owen. "Give me one reason."
"Oh, don't give me that," Owen grumbled, rubbing his arm. "That one still stings a little…"
With a small, angry sigh, Diyem approached again and eyed Necrozma suspiciously, then winced when he got too close. "You can't turn that off?"
"My… light?"
"Yes."
"Well, yes, but it's quite painful."
Diyem stared.
"Ah… poor taste. Of course. Well." Necrozma shifted awkwardly. "This is a mindscape. I suppose I could be anything. Give me a moment."
Both Owen and Diyem winced when Necrozma suddenly brightened, and then the light abruptly disappeared. Where Necrozma once floated now stood a Charmeleon with gold scales and a flame of the same color.
"There. To fit the theme, hm?" He leaned forward and fell, not even properly catching himself. "Ah. I cannot float."
Diyem, looking offended somehow, focused on his own body until he grew into the same form, though he made sure his scales were darker.
Owen covered his eyes, sighing. "Happy with your new forms?" he said, still refusing to look at his two patrons. Maybe this was where he got it from.
"Well, Owen," Necrozma said, experimenting to find a good sitting position, "you… called us. Now we're here. Is this some kind of… mediation?"
"I'm not interested," Diyem said. "Necrozma intends to kill me."
"Well," Necrozma interjected, "actually, I—"
"Don't care," Diyem interrupted.
"It's not mediation," Owen said, sighing. "I'm not going to try to get you guys to be friends after all this. In fact, the fact that you guys don't trust each other is why I brought you here together."
"Oh?" they both said.
There wasn't really a guarantee that they would agree with this, even one of them. But if he could play to their own distrust…
Well, in a way, was this underhanded?
Did that matter anymore?
Owen pushed the thoughts back. Now or never; there was no way Necrozma would have the energy for another of these in a while, and Diyem, well, he wouldn't have the patience.
"You both want me to side with you in this whole feud you have, right?"
"Feud," Necrozma hummed disapprovingly.
"Far from a feud, but I'll allow it," Diyem grunted.
"And I take it you both know what I really want above all else, right?" Owen went on. "Diyem, you know about longing and desire."
"I do."
"Your memories," Necrozma raised a hand. "Ahh… I see, I see. Very clever." He brought a paw to his mouth, chuckling. "You're forcing us to disclose everything with the other to check us for the truth. There is little, if anything, that we mutually want to hide from you. Is that your thought process?"
Diyem narrowed his eyes at Owen, studying him. A bit of dark haze leaked from the corners of his mouth as he cleared his throat, muttering, "A little impressive."
"I want you to tell me everything," Owen finally said. "From start to finish, as far as Quartz and Kilo are concerned. I want to know my past again. And then… I can trust both of you to work with me to take down Alexander."
"And after?" Diyem said. "I have no intention of trusting Necrozma once Alexander is out of the way."
"We'll… handle that later. Right now, I'm focused on him."
They both considered the proposal, looking at Owen, then studying one another. With all of them taking on the same form, Owen had a good idea what they were thinking and feeling, even in this mindscape.
"I have no objections," Necrozma said, the first to speak.
"Mrm." Diyem agreed second.
"And you'll both trust me with this?" Owen clarified. "My promise is to work with you both, and find a way where we can all get something good out of this. Maybe we can end the fighting. Okay?"
"After what you did," Diyem said, holding his chest, "I have no choice but to trust you. You wouldn't… have gone that far to save me if you felt differently." He grimaced, fist clenched. "I suppose I can see that, now."
"And you?" Owen asked.
"Well, I thought that was a given," Necrozma replied calmly. "After all, I had told you in our prior meeting that saving Diyem was just what I had hoped for."
"Excuse me?" Diyem glared, but the surprise in his voice was palpable.
"That's what he told me, at least," Owen said to Diyem. "He never told me to kill you. In fact, he kept showing me memories of when I betrayed him, and my reasons for it."
"I don't believe you."
"Why would I lie when he's right there?"
"This… is some kind of trick to—"
"Already spared you when I could've killed you," Owen reminded.
"Nghh…"
Owen sighed and crossed his legs. Diyem did the same, bringing the black flame on his tail forward. Necrozma… took some time to attempt the same posture, ultimately falling over. He eventually settled with being prone on the ground, belly-down.
"So," Owen said, "let's start when I first woke up."
Owen could feel it. With Necrozma and Diyem balancing each other out, neither one able to tell a lie and each one keen to speak the truth, Owen was finally going to learn everything. His whole past. Start to present.
Finally.
With a flame aglow, he listened intently as Necrozma started them off, when the world had just been formed.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading, everyone! As you can tell, the next chapter is Special Episode with all Special Episodes, it will be four weeks instead of 2 before this one is published. See you then for Special Episode 9: Wishkeeper.