Chapter 32: The Trifurcated

Mathew was still amazed by his club's ability to serve as a torch. While the others waved off the fire-type villager who had been so generous as to light it for him, all he could do was stare into it as it gently flickered. Even as he walked, leading the group to their destination, he kept watching it shift and crackle, clouding his vision with a tiny smoke trail.

Of course, not everyone was so impressed by the display. "We could have just bought a candle if we wanted a campfire this small," Meowth remarked disparagingly. As he sauntered up to Mathew, he matched his paws to the length of his club, sizing it up. "It's about as tall as one—"

Suddenly, Keldeo leapt forward and fit his muzzle in the gap between Meowth's paws. He came so close to the club that Mathew swung it away in panic.

"What are you doing?" Meowth pulled his arms back, as if Keldeo's nose had just swatted his palms.

The colt giggled. "I dunno! I just thought it'd be fun."

Mathew sighed, holding the club high in the air for everyone's safety. "Hey, watch where you're swinging your head around!" he chastised. "Getting that close to a flame without a face shield is a fast track to getting burned."

"Hey, I'm a water type!" Keldeo retorted. "I'm the last guy you need to worry about here."

Mathew's eyes flitted away from the colt. "Right." Now he felt like an out-of-touch dad telling his kid to be careful with the new-fangled tech that the child understood way better than him.

Minichino hustled to keep up with the trio. "Maybe it doesn't hurt you, but if you were a tree, you'd totally get scorched, and then spread the fire around to all your neighbors!" She leaned past Keldeo to get a look at Meowth. "That's why we absolutely can't have a bigger fire. Way too dangerous!"

The cat shrugged. "Whatever you say."

Mathew didn't really care whether their makeshift campfire was big or not — he just appreciated that they had one at all. The moment Joey suggested they make the Swords explain their history with Charles over a fire, he had been completely on board. It brought him back to his better years, long before he moved to Nevada.

Many years ago, on a quaint, forgettable street in the suburbs of Albany, there was The Shade. Where that bar lacked in drink selection, it thrived in atmosphere. Way in the back, guarded by a screen, a large, authentic fireplace illuminated the seats with red and yellow. The lights were kept dim so the customers would cast long shadows that danced with the flame.

The day the country's drinking age lowered, Mathew's college buddies dragged him right into the Shade and forced him to take his first drink. Of course, he was the only one in his circle of friends that hadn't tried alcohol before. He hated the taste, but he learned to love the people instead. Friends and strangers alike loosened up and revealed things about themselves that they'd never have said without a swig. He must have listened to dozens, maybe hundreds of stories in the light of that fireplace. It was the perfect escape from his brutal coursework — the place where strangers became acquaintances, acquaintances became friends, and friends became something greater.

It was the place where he first met her.

"Hey, are you gonna give us our backdrop, bud?"

Mathew flinched at the nudge of Terrakion, snapping him back to reality. In the time he had retreated into his mind, he had autopiloted all the way to the field before the Giant's Ridges — the place they had agreed to gather. He was silently thankful that the bovine had snapped him out of it. As much as those memories filled him with a pleasant nostalgia, he knew where they led.

"Sorry." He promptly drove the sharp end of his club into the ground. In one motion, their campfire was complete.

Everyone planted themselves in a circle around their tiny little centerpiece. Joey, Minichino, and Keldeo were practically hugging the warmth, but once it was obvious the far larger equines had no space, they awkwardly shimmied back. Mathew ended up sitting in the center between the kids, while Jermy and Meowth sat at the ends. Keldeo moved closer to his fellow Swords of Justice, putting the two groups on opposing sides.

"Man, this is exciting," Minichino said. "I read all about this at Scolton, but I don't think I've ever heard it all straight from you guys!"

Something funny occurred to Mathew, and he scoffed under his breath. "Straight from the horses' mouth, you mean…"

"After you told us you had studied Charles at the orphanage, we figured it wasn't necessary," Cobalion told Minichino. Even while loaved, the trio were still rather tall, and Mathew still had to tilt his neck to see his face.

"Well!" Terrakion butted in. "Hope you five are ready. Keldeo asked us to give you maximum drama, so—"

The rest of his words were useless. Virizion had already tilted her head inward, giving an intense, sweeping look across the fire.

"The year was 1867, and Solceus had been overtaken by its greatest fears," she said. "A fanatic terror had stricken most of the populace, and demanded their leadership attack an enemy invisible to them. It started with the death of the great king Polimagus at the hands of Joan Prikett, centuries before. At first, it was simply a horrible tragedy — then, the rumors spread. Whispers that Joan was no ordinary Solcean."

Virizion's head swept through the group, moving from Mathew, to Joey, to Jermy. "Some lands enacted laws merely seeking to take them in for questioning; others to imprison them for the safety of the people; some to kill on sight. All of these types of laws were aimed at the group Joan belonged to: humanity."

Mathew's interest was sufficiently grabbed. He really shouldn't be surprised that pokémon who were more than a century old would easily outclass drunkards in terms of giving a good hook. "So humans really have been showing up here for a long time?"

"That, or somebody stirred up a rumor bigger than a witch's pot," Joey said. "Do y'all know for sure this Joan fella was like us?"

"We do," Meowth answered. "It came up in our studies. There's enough testimony from the time that makes it clear."

"Not to mention that Arceus can pick humans out from a crowd!" Minichino added.

"But how could she be?" Mathew asked. "The technology for portals didn't exist twenty years ago, much less two hundred."

The cat shrugged. "The humans don't remember, so we don't know," was all he said. He glanced at Virizion, quietly requesting her to continue.

"Even if she wasn't human, the people were convinced by word of mouth," Virizion said. "Because of her, they became outlaws. The people began to use the word as a branding for outcasts who acted strange. Many pokémon were imprisoned and even put to death. The Legendary Court begged for Solceus to swallow its fear — they knew that none of the accused were human — but the chaos continued anyway." She sagged, her neck so close to the flame that the smoke parted around it.

Mathew looked down glumly. "The country I lived in had a similar scare like that written into our history books. Witch trials, they were called. There's no magic on Earth! They were just as hysterical…" He tensed up just thinking about it.

"And that's only the start of it," Terrakion said, taking the reigns. "Things only got worse when Kyurem was created!"

That snapped the cubone right back to attention. Kyurem… Wasn't he the leader of the group of Legendaries rebelling against Arceus? The Triple-A, or something like that? "Created how?"

"Arceus, of course!" he answered. "On very, very rare days, hundreds of thousands of years apart, he siphons a piece of his power from his body into a blob of pure energy. To hold the Essence, he brings Legendary Pokémon to life and welcomes them into our court."

"We're some of the youngest Legendary Pokémon of them all," Keldeo added, "so we've never gotten to watch. Apparently it's supposed to be super cool!"

Terrakion paused, gritting his teeth. "Kyurem, though…the moment he was born, he went rogue!" His voice carried so much force that it made the flame waver toward them. "With his ruthless blue fire, his terrible thunder, and his frigid ice, he vandalized farms, villages, towns…even kingdom capitols!"

Joey gawked, seeming sufficiently intimidated by the description. "Why the heck would he go out and do that?"

"Holding so much of Arceus' strength gave him an ego," he told Joey. "Why join a Court of equals when he alone could lord over the world by brute force? He wanted to knock Arceus down a peg — just like he does now." Terrakion spat out the last word with an aggressive disgust.

Jermy shifted around a little. "Eheh, yeah," he mumbled.

"And who could stop him? Arceus couldn't just un-make Kyurem. He overpowered most of the Legendary Court, and the mortals' best were still out of sorts due to the LeadType Project shaking things up all over Solceus! Simply put, Solceus really needed a hero…" Terrakion glanced at Cobalion expectantly.

The stag straightened up. "And it was in these horrific conditions that Charles Manderson arrived."

"Yeeeeeees…" Keldeo gazed at Cobalion in a delighted wonder, as if this were his first time hearing the story and not theirs.

"Just as Arceus was about to give life to three new Legendary Pokémon designed to combat Kyurem, he sensed the presence of a human in a very small town, much like this village. Quickly, he sent the trio to locate them, so they wouldn't be killed by the prejudiced masses." Cobalion's voice remained steady, keeping a flatly serious tone. "Kyurem found the village first. It was a miracle the three found him in time."

Meowth quirked a brow. "That you found him in time?"

He paused, then looked to Terrakion. "Hm. Keldeo's never complained about this. Do I continue to keep it third person, even if they dislike it?"

Terrakion stomped as he turned toward his fellow Sword. "It doesn't matter! Just keep it going!"

"Very well…" Cobalion sighed, then faced everyone once more. "We found a charmander — slim, frail, and garbed in a strange drape he called a poncho. The moment we took him away from the wreckage of the village, he attempted to stake out on his own. Charles was almost embarrassed to have needed our help. Of course, we had no better plan than to drag him with us for his own safety."

"That part was super tough!" Keldeo exclaimed. "Don't forget to mention that!"

Virizion nodded. "Yes, it was. Charles didn't know a single move, but his thrashing alone was enough to keep us newborn Legendary Pokémon at bay. He adjusted to his flame tail quickly."

Minichino giggled. "I really can't imagine you guys losing to a charmander! That's just crazy!"

"Well, we got better!" Terrakion said. "And well, so did Charles. As we tailed Kyurem across the world, we all trained together. Charles adjusted to his new body, while the three of us learned to control our Sacred Swords. The more time he spent with us, the more he loosened up! We eventually got him to talk so much about himself that we could help him piece together his history."

"Oh, he was an amnesiac." Somehow that hadn't occurred to Mathew. Based on his annoyed leer, Joey had already figured that out. "How did you learn his past if he couldn't remember anything?"

"We drew some conclusions based on his personal knowledge," Cobalion explained. "For example, Charles knew so much about how to live in the desert that he must have called it his home. He had such a good understanding of our bodies that he surely was friends with Earth's equivalents." The stag glanced at Joey. "And he seemed intimately familiar with a job that he called 'being a cowboy'."

The boy's jaw dropped halfway to the dirt. "Charles was a real cowboy?!"

"Huh, does the timeline line up on that?" Jermy wondered aloud, tilting down at the ground. "ORB, does the timeline—?"

"The timeline lines up," ORB said, shutting down the matter.

"Anyway," Terrakion butted in, regaining control of the story, "things really got intense after we found teachers that could help the four of us face Kyurem: the Knights of Justice, Zacian and Zamazenta."

Mathew shut his eyes, trying to picture the kind of pokémon that'd be associated with those names. Something big, and majestic. Dragons, maybe? He supposed their looks didn't really matter. "What were they like?" he asked.

"Back then?" The bovine grit his teeth. "Well, they didn't make things easier, that's for sure. They were really big fans of Polimagus, and boy, did they have a bone to pick with his killer." He leaned in, lowering his voice as if to tell them a secret. "Let's put it this way: those rumors about Joan secretly being a human? They were the ones who started them. Needless to say, convincing them to include Charles in our training was like talking to a brick wall!"

"Of course, we stood our ground, and since there was no time to waste, the Knights were forced to take us in," Virizion continued. "They were much older than us, and it showed — their training was so ruthless that they managed to make Charles evolve twice. Of course, his rapid improvement did nothing to change their opinion of him."

"Talk about stubborn!" Minichino pouted.

Cobalion nodded. "Talk meant little to them. The actions of Joan were enough to write humanity off as dangerous invaders, in their eyes. It should be no surprise that it took action to change their minds. The Knights of Justice, in their hubris, tried to take on Kyurem themselves, but found themselves overwhelmed by the dragon's power. The one to save them from death was the very charizard they detested. That act of selflessness finally warmed their hearts. As a token of gratitude, they granted the four of us a high honor — our titles, the Swords of Justice."

Keldeo was so excited he was bouncing in place. "Oh, here it comes! This is the part when they fight Kyurem!"

"Hey, no spoilers!" Joey cried.

"Keldeo is right," Virizion said. "We spent almost a week arming ourselves, stocking Charles' bags with seeds, berries, Wonder Orbs, and dungeon-made clothing that guarded us from fire, electricity, and ice. Then, we were finally ready to take on the rogue Legendary Pokémon. We confronted him in a castle of ice he carved out of a glacier, far in the north."

"An ice castle?" Mathew remarked, unimpressed. "I see he's about as creative as you'd expect somebody with that kind of power to be." Although, now that he tried to picture it in his mind, he suddenly had a vivid image of glossy floors, tall ceilings, and an overwhelming chill. Had he been somewhere like that before?

"It was no easy fight!" Terrakion exclaimed. "We may have been built to punch holes in dragon hides, but fast-tracking our training meant we weren't as ready as we could be. The four of us just about got crushed!" He leaned over and nudged Keldeo's head with his hoof. "We're lucky Keldeo wasn't with us then, or we would've gone in without the dungeon items that saved our sorry rears!"

"What?! Name one time I've rushed that bad!" The colt shoved the hoof away, smiling widely. With a gasp, he added, "After you made me a real Sword of Justice."

Terrakion chuckled as he planted his hoof. "That's cheating and you know it!"

Mathew wasn't amused by the distraction. Like a bargoer losing their train of thought, Terrakion had left them on a cliffhanger! "So, you used a dungeon item? Like a Wand or a Wonder Orb?" he asked, hoping to get them back on track.

"Not how you may be picturing it," Cobalion said. "Charles had fought to open Solceus' mind to new ideas — it was now time for him to do the same for his own mind. He realized before any of us that we did not have to cut Kyurem down to be victorious. We only had to strip him of his oppressive power. Fortunately, Charles was wearing the key to victory all along — the bandana softening the electric shocks Kyurem sent coursing through him."

"Hah?" Joey beat Mathew to voicing his skepticism. "A bandana was what he needed?"

"Yeah, that's not computing to me either," Mathew chimed in. At this point he thought he understood how ordinary objects could become weapons, but none of them had mentioned type stones once. "Was the bandana imbued or something?"

"It's because it was a dungeon item." ORB's interjection seemed to catch even the Swords by surprise. The robot squeezed between Jermy and Keldeo, getting uncomfortably close to the fire. "When handled properly, Wands, Wonder Orbs, and clothing found in dungeons pass off as ordinary objects, but in reality, they are composed of a powerful substance known as dungeon dust. The dust is the source of their supernatural effects."

"Oh…kay." That explanation was not okay, but in the time it took to process what ORB had just said, Mathew couldn't find anything better to say. "Step back for a second. They're made out of dust?"

Joey was already reaching over for the Dwelling Bag, rummaging through it. He pulled out a bright blue Wonder Orb with yellow hues dotting it like a soccer ball. In the core was a rounded, cloud-like shape. "I ain't seeing how a ball like this could be anything but glass."

"That's how the dust appears now," ORB said, "But if you were to smash it against the ground, it'd crumble into its real form."

Joey's head swiveled left, then right, then left. His jaw clenched shut. With his little arms, he held up the Wonder Orb and—

"Don't do it!" Minichino practically screamed as she pulled it right out of Joey's hands. Hastily, she slid it back into the Dwelling Bag. "Dude, dungeon dust is crazy dangerous! You don't even wanna risk getting any in your mouth."

Mathew came just short of telling Minichino to relax — then he saw Meowth. For the first time since they had gotten to Vahle Village, there was a strong emotion on his face: genuine concern for the totodile. Even the Swords of Justice had leaned back a little. The only ones who didn't seem alarmed were himself and the two other humans.

"Sorry." Joey had shriveled into himself out of embarrassment. Mathew rested a hand on his side, which seemed to calm him down a little. "What…happens if you eat it?"

Meowth took a breath and answered for them. "It's complicated. But what you need to know is that it fragments you. You're sapped of your energy, and eventually that energy…separates from you. The more you ingest, the faster it happens."

"And that—!" Before the confused Joey could speak, Virizion cut him off. "That is exactly what Charles needed. He took our scarves and bandanas, then tore them all, dust spilling out like a plushie's stuffing, and chased Kyurem through the cloud-covered sky. Kyurem sent thunder rocketing through the air, but Charles refused to give up. The three of us could only cheer him on as he matched the dragon's pace."

Just like that, the tension in the air from Joey's near-miss dissolved. The totodile relaxed as he was sucked right back into the tale. Keldeo's almost-squealing excitement, a trick of the flame making his eyes sparkle, only further restored the mood. Mathew wasn't sure how to feel about how quickly they had moved on, but he hated the idea of making Joey feel any more humiliated, so he swallowed his questions for now.

"All it took was one grab of the neck for Charles to climb up and shove it all down his throat!" Terrakion exclaimed. "Four pieces of clothing were enough to make it happen fast. Kyurem crashed to the ground from exhaustion, and by the time Arceus arrived to see the aftermath, one dragon had become three."

"Become three…" Mathew repeated it, trying to understand. When Meowth said 'separates', did he mean that literally? He couldn't fathom how such a thing worked. The cubone glanced at the Dwelling Bag, laying deflated on its side, holding onto their spare dungeon items. How could a little dust have such an incredible effect?

"The two who had broken apart from Kyurem had no interest in his thirst for power," Cobalion said. "Arceus welcomed them into the Court, and gave them the names Reshiram and Zekrom. Without his fire and electricity, Kyurem held only a shadow of his former strength, ending his hopes of conquest. The Court sentenced him to a century of isolation in his castle, where he could no longer endanger the people. With that, the battle was won." The stag smiled nostalgically. "Charles exceeded all of our expectations."

Virizion shut her eyes and nodded. "He really did."

"Yep." Terrakion stared into the lone flame, burning endlessly.

"Those long-eyed looks are about as foreboding as smoke in a forest…" Joey remarked.

Mathew, too, had gotten the sense that things were about to take a turn. "What happened next?"

"The plan was always to bring Charles to Arceus so he could send him back home," Cobalion said slowly. "But when the time came, it was…harder than we expected." His head drooped. "We had grown deeply attached to Charles. It was difficult to picture a world without him."

"And, if it worked on Earth like it worked here, he wouldn't remember us," Terrakion added. "He came close to staying on Solceus because of that."

Virizion looked away. "We told him that he shouldn't let us hold him back. There were surely people waiting for him where he came from. Just like how he didn't forget what it meant to be a cowboy, he wouldn't forget what it meant to be a Sword of Justice — the time we spent together would live on in his heart. So…he went home." The sorrow in her voice permeated as if the wound left by his departure was still fresh.

Keldeo sighed wistfully. "I don't think I'd be bold enough to leave if I was him."

"Carve out peace for yourself and then leave it all behind?" Mathew thought aloud. "Neither would I, honestly."

"Charles has been gone for two centuries. It's taken us about that long to discover ourselves outside of our short-lived companionship," Cobalion said. "The three of us spent many years apart from one another, trying and failing to search for a new purpose. Just like Kyurem, Charles splintered us for over fifty years." He looked to Jermy. "With their lifespans, mortals like you are expected to move on so much faster than that."

Jermy slouched over, almost leaning against ORB. "Yeah. I really didn't expect you to be so hunky-dory about all this."

"Hey, it's our job to play good cops!" Keldeo exclaimed. "The Knights play the bad cops for us."

The pikachu snickered at that. "It's funny. I get away from Kyurem, and the first people I run into are his biggest enemies."

For a moment, the only sound that filled the field was the crackle of Mathew's club. It collectively took everyone a second to process what Jermy had just implied.

"Get away from Kyurem?" Meowth repeated.

"Hah?!" Joey turned to the pikachu in an almost betrayed panic. "What do you mean, Kyurem?"

Jermy balked at Joey with a confused expression — then covered his mouth with his hands. "Oh I never explained that…!" he exclaimed, muffled.

"You did not," ORB affirmed.

Minichino gave a half-hearted, bashful laugh. "I think that might be my bad too," she admitted.

"Listen, I didn't really talk to him that much, but I kinda knew him! It's like when your mom takes you to the grocery store and starts talking to this other adult, and you don't know her, but — oh, forget it, you don't even have moms!" Before the Swords could even ask, words were spilling out of Jermy's mouth, just as they had earlier. "He didn't start the war on a whim, you know. How do you think we figured out where the duels were gonna happen, so we could get the Essences?"

Cobalion seemed earnest shocked by the explanation. "You mean to say that this OCEAN organization is colluding with Kyurem directly?"

"What's wrong with him?!" Terrakion proclaimed. "Does he have any idea what he's bringing about?"

Virizion rose from their circle and padded over to Jermy. "Congratulations. You just earned yourself a seat at the Fogside Volcano meeting. The Court needs to hear all about this."

Jermy gawked at the antelope. "You want me to speak in front of the whole Court?!"

"Well, most of them."

Jermy fumbled to stand up. "Uh… Okay, but only if I get to take ORB with me. He's got buckets full of visuals and proof, and he's a way better speaker than me!"

"That last part is hardly a point in my favor," the robot said.

Terrakion harumphed as he unloaved himself. "Well, if that's what it takes to get your story out there, then we'll have to allow it."

Cobalion gave a sweeping look over the group. "In any case, I believe that explains our history with Charles Manderson. If you have any questions, I suggest we discuss them over a meal."

"I hope Sheilott ain't gonna mind if we take over her kitchen to cook," Joey admitted. "I can hardly wait…"

As the others rose one by one, ready to return to the village for the night, Mathew sat in silence, watching the flame of his own bone club.

With their lifespans, mortals like you are expected to move on so much faster than that. The line had passed by so quickly that nobody had acknowledged it, but Mathew's mind was still ruminating. Charles had departed from the Swords of Justice's lives peacefully, and it had taken them fifty years.

Mathew was thirty-eight, and two years deep. What chance did he have?

"Mathew? Are you coming?"

Joey's voice snapped Mathew out of his stupor. The totodile was standing by the cubone, waiting for him to get up.

Awkwardly, Mathew shuffled to a standing position. "Yeah." He walked up to his club and plucked it from the ground. "I'll be right there."

He blew on it, and the flame went out.

Mathew stared so far upward that his neck strained from the stretch.

He was back in the red sea, standing on the blank island. The mirror frame lodged in its ground was missing its glass, so nothing would look back at him if he peered within.

The surroundings had changed dramatically. Across from where the cubone stood, two massive rock obelisks pierced the sky. Pieces of rubble jutted from the shallow water around them, as though they had flaked off from an impossible erosion.

The pillars had taken the swarm of colors with them, leaving the sky black as it was before. Far, far above him, at the summit of those stone towers, he could it swirling around, like a disturbed hive of wasps dead-set on never allowing their target peace.

Each of the structures before him had stairs carved into its side. As his gaze moved downward, he could see them spiral around and around, as if constricting the pillars like snakes. They both widened where they met the water, opening themselves to him.

Left or right. Mathew had been given a choice whose meaning he couldn't discern. All he knew, somehow, was that he must take one.

He approached the twin staircases with caution, and as much wary as his dreary mind granted him. Only when he got close-up did he notice that the stairs were not identical. They weaved in different directions upward — the left one clockwise, and the right one in opposition.

The left staircase was well-kept. The stone looked finely carved with hardly a blemish, and it was guarded by a gray hand rail, so perfectly shaped that he could easily picture it in a mansion. The base of the rail was had a glass topper plastered with a logo he couldn't discern. The way upward was lit with lamps jutting from the tower, providing every step with the pure white glow of electric light.

The right staircase, however, was dangerous and aged. The stairs were unevenly sized, and if he fell away from the obelisk, there would be nothing to save him. Lining its walls were violently flickering torches, coating the path upward with an ominous, wavering red. It looked as though parts of it could collapse at any moment.

Of course, the answer was obvious. Slowly, he shambled toward the left staircase and began his ascent.

The climb was nothing like the journey across the flat sea. What was only a blur of shuffling then had become so much more vivid. Mathew could feel himself heave as he went from one stair to the next. Sometimes the claws on his feet would scrape the stone, making a harsh sound that echoed through the empty space.

His awareness didn't make him go any faster. Mathew tried to count the seconds it took to travel from the bottom to the top, but he lost it at a meager forty-five. His attention was held more by his destination. It was so much higher in the sky than it seemed. No matter how much he scaled, following the staircase's endless weave left, the peak of the pillar still seemed so far away. Even if there was some semblance of progress, the layers of stone steps and the glow of red lights far above him made it hard to tell.

…Wait. Red lights?

Mathew yelped as he stumbled back just in time. The stones ahead of him fell away like loose wood, tumbling through the black air. His foot had shoved it loose with ease.

Reflexively, he reached for the hand rail — and swung at air. There wasn't one.

His head whipped around in panicked confusion. This was supposed to be the left staircase! He wanted the left!

Your mind sought the left stairs.

Mathew flinched — that voice hadn't come from his own mind. It echoed from a distance — from the other pillar.

The other pillar, which turned rightward, and had a hand rail, and was well-lit, and was carved with fine stone.

But we know that you only listen to your heart.

That one came from above. The force of its reverberation rattled Mathew's skull mask, as if pushing him toward the ground far below.

Mathew looked down—

Now fall.

The staircase crumbled.

All he could do was scream.

Mathew almost threw himself straight out of his nest. The scream of his dream translated to only a yelp in reality, which he promptly silenced. He was back in Sheilott's home, surrounded by his peers snoring away.

He swallowed a groan. Another nightmare. This was, what, his fourth one now? The consistency was starting to annoy him.

Even though he was free from his wicked imagination, his heart still pounded, and he was compelled to pant from a phantom exhaustion. He tried to stand up in search of water to quench him, but he couldn't manage one step before collapsing face-forward back into the nest.

How had he gotten so tired? It was like he had sprinted on a treadmill in his sleep.

…Or used a stair climber.