Three months.
THREE FREAKING MONTHS. That's how long I've been working on this chapter. I've been trying to get chapters up all summer, but I've actually been working on some other writing I've mine. I'm working with a friend who is a published author on writing an actual novel, which I'd been working on for between four and eight hours everyday up until this week. Now I should be able to get chapters posted more regularly. I still hope to get this fic done by the end of the summer, though I'm not sure how realistic of a goal that is. I'll try my darndest, though!
On the brighter side, this is one of the longest chapters that I've ever written, though I'll warn that it is heavy on words but fairly light on action.
Chapter 24
In the Shadows
Chatot was not having a good morning.
He muttered to himself in irritation as he began his routine trek through Apple Woods. The previous night, Wigglytuff had helped himself to a midnight snack, something that he often did despite Chatot’s repeated warnings. When Chatot had awoken the next morning, he’d been horrified to find that the Guild’s entire stock of Perfect Apples had been devoured. If the supply wasn’t replenished by dinner that night, then . . . Chatot shuddered at the thought. The Guildmaster was a good and respectable Pokemon, but he could be a real pain sometimes.
Normally, Chatot was a sensible Pokemon. He was not one to let his guard down in any situation, whether he was expecting trouble or not. But this morning was different. He was irked about having to make another trip to Apple Woods, especially when he’d just made one the previous week. Plus, the Apple Woods route was typically an easy road with few problems from the primitive wild Pokemon. All of this combined with the recent peace in Treasure Town lead to Chatot’s more laid-back approach to the task at hand. The morning was rough enough without having to make the going even slower.
But the day was about to get worse.
Dusknoir was having his morning coffee when a Sableye dropped out of the sky.
He was relaxing in the outdoor pavilion behind the Kecleon market. Magmar, one of the numerous new shopkeepers in Treasure Town, had recently opened the coffee house, which had become wildly popular with the citizens. Loudred and Vigoroth had quickly discovered that caffeine was a bit much for them, but the rest of the town was enamored.
Dusknoir enjoyed his coffee in the early morning hours when it was relatively quiet in town; most Pokemon didn’t come out until the late morning. There was still mist in the air and a general tranquility of the atmosphere in the pavilion. The Kecleon Brothers sat at a nearby table, shooting occasional comments to Dusknoir. The two were the only other Pokemon present in the pavilion; they always showed up early before they opened their shop for the day. On most mornings, the three Pokemon simply enjoyed each other’s company in quiet.
Which was why it came as a complete surprise when a swirling purple vortex appeared in the sky and a Sableye dropped out into the middle of Dusknoir’s table. The green Kecleon leaped to his feet, startled, while his brother teetered backward on his stool and crashed to the ground. Dusknoir paused with his mug halfway to his non-existent mouth, but showed no other visible reaction to his underling’s sudden materialization.
“So,” he said casually. “Any news?”
The Sableye sat up on the table and shook his head to clear his thoughts. The Kecleon brothers had recovered from their initial astonishment and were eyeing the new arrival curiously, though neither had the courage to say anything.
“Nothing major, Lord Dusknoir,” the Sableye said. “We thought we had one with this Typhlosion, then again with a Golem, but the connections weren’t strong enough.”
Dusknoir sighed. “Blast. Oh well, the Land of the Dead is a vast world, it won’t be easy to find someone strongly connected to Piplup and Chimchar.” He paused. “Wait a moment. Where are the two who were with you?”
Sableye hung his head sadly. “They refused to come back with me. They insisted that they continue their search until they succeed.”
The crash of Dusknoir’s fist on the table resounded in the open pavilion, startling the Kecleon Brothers once again. “This is it. I can’t allow any of you to enter that cursed world ever again. Five Sableye have been lost to the spirit world already, and that is five too many.”
“Lord Dusknoir, I must protest,” Sableye said immediately. “We want nothing more than to help you. It is the sole reason for our existence. We will give our entire selves to help your cause.”
“That is exactly why I cannot allow you to return,” Dusknoir said. “My powers as a Dusknoir may allow me to open the portal to the Land of the Dead, but even I cannot prevent its deterioration of the living that enter. Your loyalty to me deserves reward, not senseless sacrifice.”
Sableye clenched his fists at his sides. “But it is not senseless! We may fade into the world of spirits, but so long as we serve you well, that is all that matters in our lives!”
“Argue all you like,” Dusknoir said, rising from his seat. “But my decision is final and I expect you to respect it.”
Sableye gritted his teeth in frustration, but he bowed his head submissively. “As you wish, Lord Dusknoir.”
Dusknoir nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Now go out and do something for yourself. Drink some coffee, grab some grub, whatever. You deserve it.”
Sableye gave a quick salute. “Thank you, Lord Dusknoir. I am sorry that we could not be of greater service to you.”
“You’ve done more than enough,” Dusknoir assured. “Now go.”
Sableye trudged towards Magmar’s coffee counter as Grovyle strode into the pavilion. The two nodded to each other in greeting as Grovyle made his way to Dusknoir’s table. “Good morning.”
“Buzz off,” Dusknoir said.
Grovyle raised his hands defensively before him. “Whoa now, take it easy.”
“Sorry,” Dusknoir said tiredly. “I’m not mad at you. Two more of the Sableye were lost to the spirits.”
“I see,” Grovyle said. “My sympathies.”
“I can’t help but feel responsible,” Dusknoir said, taking a swig of his rapidly-cooling coffee. “I know the way of the Land of the Dead. The living who linger too long become just like the spirits that reside in that world. It was foolish of me to send any of the Sableye there in the first place.”
Grovyle laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself. The Sableye knew what they were getting into when they agreed to help. They’re happy to die in your service.”
“Well I’m not,” Dusknoir said, crossing his arms stubbornly. “That’s why I’m not sending them back. I’m taking matters into my own hands.”
Grovyle raised an eyebrow. “So you’re planning to search the entire Land of the Dead for anyone connected to Piplup and Chimchar by yourself? Sounds about as easy as finding a needle in a haystack.”
Dusknoir waved a hand dismissively. “Please, finding a needle in a haystack is child’s play compared to this. This is more like finding a piece of hay in a stack of needles.”
Grovyle rolled his eyes. “That’s encouraging.”
“Hard as it may be, I have to do it,” Dusknoir said. “I’m not letting any more Sableye sacrifice themselves.”
“Fine then,” Grovyle said. “I’ll go with you.”
Dusknoir nodded. “Okay.”
“That’s it?” Grovyle said in obvious confusion. “You’re not going to argue with it? No heartfelt speech about not wanting to lose me like your other friends?”
“Would you let me go alone if I asked you to?” Dusknoir asked simply.
“No,” Grovyle admitted.
“Then I won’t waste any more of our time,” Dusknoir said.
Grovyle shrugged. “Fair enough. But I think we’ll have to put our search on hold until the trouble here in town is sorted out.”
As if on cue, Cacnea and Hitmontop strode into the pavilion, cackling uproariously about something. Hitmontop flipped a couple of coins onto the counter and Magmar immediately set to work brewing a fresh pot of coffee. The two newcomers took a seat at a table close to the counter, far enough away that Dusknoir couldn’t catch a word of what they were saying. Still, he didn’t want to take any chances.
“Let’s take this conversation somewhere less crowded,” he whispered.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Grovyle said in agreement. They quickly exited the pavilion and crossed Treasure Town’s main square. Grovyle led the way to Sharpedo Bluff and briefly cleared away the pile of leaves, ushering Dusknoir down the steps into the old – and now abandoned – home.
Dusknoir whistled under his breath as he looked around, admiring the scenic ocean view through the ‘jaws’ of the bluff. He eyed the fountain and straw beds curiously. “What is this place? Some kind of bunker?”
Grovyle smiled sadly. “This is Chimchar’s place. He brought me and Piplup here to hide out when we returned from the future.” He paused and raised an eyebrow at Dusknoir. “You know, after the time that you showed up with Primal Dialga and attempted to kill us all?”
“I remember no such thing,” Dusknoir said indignantly. “Frankly, I’m hurt that you’d accuse me of such treachery.”
Grovyle ignored him. “Anyway, this place is apparently a big secret. The last I knew, no one in town had any idea it was here. We were able to hang out here until Piplup and Chimchar finally decided that they had to go back to the Guild.”
“Chatot probably knows about this,” Dusknoir said. “That guy knows about everything. But I doubt we’ll have to worry about him eavesdropping on us.”
Grovyle nodded somberly. “Right. I’ve been doing more research lately and I found some interesting evidence at the site where Sunflora and Loudred were ambushed. There were spines on the ground, indicating a Pin Missile attack. Also, there were signs that a drill-like object had been used to create tunnels, which is what caused the cave-in that nearly trapped Loudred. These clues seem to indicate our new friends, Cacnea and Hitmontop in particular.”
“And if that’s not condemning, then there’s always the time that I caught little Bucket Head by the river when he was literally cleansing his hands of blood,” Dusknoir said. “Bidoof’s wounds indicated that he’d been slashed by something long and sharp, as did Sunflora and Loudred’s, and I doubt that was just a coincidence.”
“The matter still remains of discovering what exactly these goons are up to,” Grovyle said. “We don’t know if they’re working for Shiftry or if they’ve got some deal going on behind his back. We need conclusive proof of what’s really happening.”
“Maybe I can be of assistance.”
They looked up in surprise to see a Sableye standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching them with interest. “How did you find this place?” Grovyle asked in obvious confusion.
“The Sableye in my employment have a natural tracker sense given to them by Dialga,” Dusknoir explained. “Wherever I go, they can always find me. How else do you think they were able to keep on our trail when we traveled the Dark Future together?”
Grovyle raised an eyebrow. “I figured that you betraying me before we’d even formed our alliance had something to do with it.”
“Please!” the Sableye begged in exasperation. “Can we focus on the present for a sec?”
“Right, sorry,” Grovyle said. He looked the Sableye up and down. “Are you the one who was just at the coffee shop? Because honestly, I can’t tell any of you apart.”
Dusknoir stared at Grovyle in disbelief. “You heartless wretch! You can’t even tell Seymour here apart from Maxwell?”
“Actually sir, it’s Samuel,” the Sableye said meekly.
“Shut up, Spalding,” Dusknoir snapped. “I’m trying to make a point.” He shifted his attention back to Grovyle. “Siegfried here has purple skin, while Maxwell’s is obviously more of a violet.”
“Samuel, sir,” the Sableye repeated.
Dusknoir ignored him. He fixed a reprimanding gaze on Grovyle. “Now I want you to apologize to Serebii at once.”
Grovyle turned to the Sableye and gave him a sly grin. “Samuel, I’m sorry that your master is such a dunce.” Samuel smiled back and Dusknoir sagged his shoulders in an attempt to look hurt. “Now please, tell us why you’re here.”
Samuel nodded several times. “Yes, of course. I was keeping an eye on some of those suspicious Pokemon that you were talking about. Anyway, I was out by the crossroads this morning and I saw Chatot from the Guild going out towards Apple Woods. Then, just a few minutes after, that weird fellow with the shiny arms went out in the same direction. He was looking around a lot too, like he was making sure that he wasn’t being followed.” The Sableye’s mouth widened in a toothy grin. “Of course, his keen eyes were no match for my Shadow Sneak. I thought about following him myself, but I didn’t want to get in over my head, so I came to tell you guys.”
Grovyle immediately made for the stairs. “Come on, Dusknoir, let’s get going.”
“Hang on a sec,” Dusknoir said, not making any move to follow his friend. “Let’s think about this for a second.”
“We don’t have a second!” Grovyle said angrily. “Chatot’s in trouble now!”
“Chatot’s a tough old bird,” Dusknoir said confidently. “I doubt this dork can take him down.”
Grovyle stomped his foot impatiently. “Still, that doesn’t mean that we should risk it. Pawniard – assuming it was him, of course – was able to take down Bidoof, Sunflora, and Loudred all with a single blow to the back. He’s obviously a master of the sneak attack. If he manages to set up an ambush then he could still get the better of Chatot.”
Dusknoir tried to rub his chin thoughtfully only to discover that he didn’t really have a proper chin, so he settled for wringing his hands together in what he hoped was a thoughtful manner. “You may have a point. But I want to hang around in town to see if the other goons are doing anything suspicious. “
“Fine,” Grovyle said. “We’ll split up. You keep an eye on Cacnea and Hitmontop and I’ll go after Chatot.”
“Good plan,” Dusknoir said. “I’m glad I thought of it.” He turned to Samuel. “Thanks for the info, Kowalski. You can help me out in town today.”
The Sableye didn’t even bother correcting him, giving him a salute instead. “Aye aye, captain.”
For once, Dusknoir avoided making a reference to the theme song of a popular animated television series and he simply turned to leave, followed closely by the others. Grovyle didn’t even bother with a goodbye. The second they’d left the bluff, he was off.
Something wasn’t right.
Chatot couldn’t place a finger on it, but there was something decidedly strange. He shrugged away the feeling, passing it off as exhaustion or anxiety. He had business to get to. He hopped forward into the wide clearing before him. The massive Perfect Apple tree grew in the center of the clearing, towering far higher than any other tree in the forest. Clutching the knapsack for the apples in his claws, Chatot fluttered the rest of the way to the trunk and prepared to ascend to the branches.
There was a sudden thunk from behind Chatot and he spun around. He was already on-edge from the uneasy atmosphere of the forest and the random noise had nearly caused him to jump out of his skin. However, he quickly discovered that his discomfort was unfounded: a single Perfect Apple sat in the grass.
Chatot looked about cautiously, but he couldn’t see any other Pokemon in the clearing. He took several careful steps towards the Perfect Apple, but nothing happened and he decided that it had simply fallen out of the tree. He opened up the knapsack and leaned forward to pick up the apple.
There was a rustle from above and it was only Chatot’s instincts that saved him.
He dropped the sack and rolled sideways, giving a flap of his wings to accelerate his movement. There was a whoosh as a dark figure landed where Chatot had been standing. The figure lashed at Chatot before it had even landed, catching him across the bottom of the wing and severing a few blue feathers. Chatot hit the ground face first, leaving him no time to react as his assailant prepared for another strike.
Grovyle hit Pawniard like a truck. The two rolled sideways for several yards before Grovyle regained his footing and caught Pawniard’s wrists, pinning the blade-like arms to the ground. The small warrior struggled continuously, but the grip on him was firm and unrelenting. Grovyle looked up at Chatot, who was still laying face-down.
“Chatot!” he called. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve been better,” Chatot said, standing up and dusting himself off. A thin red line had appeared on the underside of his wing where he’d been slashed, but otherwise he seemed to be fine. “This chap will have to do better than that if he wants to do me in.”
Pawniard continued struggling, but his efforts were futile. “Let me go, you stupid lizard! This is all just a big misunderstanding!”
Grovyle raised an eyebrow. “A misunderstanding? So am I to believe that you weren’t attempting to severely wound my friend and steal whatever possessions he happened to have on hand?”
“Of course I wasn’t!” Pawniard said. “I was trying to – ” He stopped suddenly and his body went still. “Uh, yeah. That’s exactly what I was doing.”
“Oh really?” Chatot said disbelievingly. He stepped up to glare at Pawniard, who Grovyle had allowed into a seated position. “It seems to me that you were about to say something else.”
Pawniard feigned confusion. “Who? Me? No, that was it. You found me out. Go ahead, take me to jail. I deserve it.”
Grovyle smirked. “Don’t worry, we’ll take you straight to jail. Of course, your condition upon arrival depends heavily on your cooperation. We just want to ask you a few questions.”
Still holding his wrists, Grovyle marched Pawniard to the trunk of the Perfect Apple tree and sat him down against it. Chatot quickly moved to join them, flanking Pawniard to assure that he couldn’t attempt an escape. Pawniard cast a curious glance at Grovyle. “If you’re the good cop, does that mean that Feathers here is the bad one?”
“You bet your sweet keister it does!” Chatot snapped. Grovyle eyed him with disbelief and the bird winked at him.
“Alright, alright, I’ll talk!” Pawniard said, his voice heavy with the shame of defeat. “But you can’t let anyone know what I tell you, alright?”
Chatot stuck his beak straight in Pawniard’s face. “And why in blazes would we agree to that? You’re completely at our mercy! I’m a Flying-type with a loaded gun who refuses to take his medication! You’re lucky to be alive!”
Grovyle was just as flabbergasted as Chatot by the request, but he didn’t voice his opinion. He placed a hand on Pawniard’s shoulder. “Easy, chum. Don’t worry, you can trust me.” Of course, he had no intention of keeping any such promise, but his prisoner didn’t need to know that.
“Alright, I’ll talk,” Pawniard said, sweat running down his metal-domed head. “Ya see, I wasn’t trying to rob Chatot. I was . . .” He paused and took several deep breaths. “I was tryin’ to kill him!” He immediately raised his hands in front of his face. “Don’t hurt me!”
Grovyle and Chatot were too stunned to even think about hurting him. They stared unblinking, looking back and forth between each other and their prisoner. “K-kill me?” Chatot finally said. “Why? What did I do to you?”
“It’s nothing personal, you have to believe me,” Pawniard said hurriedly. “You seem like nice guys, honest. I’m just doing what I was told to do.”
“Told by who?” Grovyle said. Pawniard looked away and Grovyle gripped him by the throat, pushing him backwards against the tree. “Told by who?” he repeated coldly.
Pawniard defiantly held Grovyle’s gaze for several seconds, but finally the fire from his eyes died down and the struggle went out of him. “Shiftry! Who else would it be?”
Chatot gasped and Grovyle kept his mouth in a grim line. “So it seems that my hunch was correct. I wonder if Dusknoir has found out yet.”
“Shiftry?” Chatot said, still in a state of disbelief. “That kindly Pokemon? I can’t believe that he would be doing anything this bad. He seemed like such a nice fellow.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” Grovyle said tersely. “I seem to recall that you thought the same thing about Dusknoir once, and look where that got you.”
Chatot grimaced. “Oh, you had to bring that up.”
Grovyle turned back to Pawniard. “So, spill the beans. What’s Shiftry up to?”
“You can’t make me talk!” Pawniard said, a vicious tone to his voice. Grovyle and Chatot both leaned forward, glaring at him. He gulped nervously. “Okay, okay, I’ll talk! Geesh, you guys can’t take a joke.”
“We’re not here to joke,” Grovyle said harshly.
Pawniard rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, you’re hardcore, we get it! I’ll talk.” He scraped his hands together nervously. “It’s not really that complicated. Shiftry wants the same thing as anybody else: wealth and power. He worms his way into villages, makes friends with the locals, and infiltrates the town with guys like me to back him up. We do the dirty work. We start off small, stealing food and rations in case anything goes wrong, but eventually we set to work killing off the leading members of the town, the ones who could rally against us.”
“Which is why you were planning to kill me,” Chatot said. Somehow, he managed the sentence without sounding insulted.
Pawniard nodded, then turned his gaze to Grovyle. “You’re on the hit list to. Our first strike was gonna to be Chatot to keep information from spreading. Next up was gonna be the police chief to keep the fuzz off our trail.”
“Magnezone too?” Chatot said incredulously. “Just how big is this hit list?”
“Pretty decent,” Pawniard admitted. “After you and the chief was some guy named Skuntank, then Wigglytuff, Dusknoir, and you.” He pointed at Grovyle.
Chatot frowned. “Skuntank? He left town several weeks ago.”
“We figured that out,” Pawniard said. “We just considered ourselves lucky to have one less to set a trap for.”
Grovyle narrowed his eyes. “Alright, so you kill off all of the prominent people in the village. What’s the next step?”
“Same as the other places,” Pawniard said as though the answer should be obvious. “We take over, prevent anyone from going into and out of the village, leave some guys behind to take care of it, and move on to the next. It’s all building towards Shiftry’s personal mafia gaining great riches and the like.”
“So you’ve done this before?” Grovyle said.
“Three times,” Pawniard said. “Those villages are still under Shiftry’s control now. Admittedly, the old citizens are kept under close surveillance at all times to make sure that they don’t leave town and tell of their plight. But you gotta believe me when I say that Shiftry isn’t a completely bad guy. He really takes care of his followers. He takes in people like me who have nowhere else to go. He feeds us and makes sure we have roofs over our heads.”
“Still, the fact that he is controlling innocent villages means that he’ll have to face justice,” Grovyle said. “And now with your testimony, we’ve got all the evidence we need to bring him down.”
Pawniard’s head jerked up. “What? No way! I’m not sayin’ anything bad about Shiftry!”
“You will if we say to!” Chatot squawked. “Or else I’ll rip your stupid metal head right off your shoulders!” He winked at Grovyle. He was having way too much fun with his “bad cop” role.
“Take it easy,” Grovyle said with a warning glare at Chatot. “Look, if you agree to help us when we confront Shiftry, we’ll make sure that you get the proper reward. You can remain free. You can even live in Treasure Town. How about that?”
Pawniard shifted nervously where he sat. “I . . . I don’t know. Shiftry’s always been great to me. I was a street rat before. I had to steal to get by and I never knew where my next meal would come from.” He looked down at his feet and sighed. “Then Shiftry showed up and promised me that he’d take care of me. All that I had to do was help him realize his dream.” He scraped his hands together, making a loud screeching sound. “Sometimes, that means using my special skills to get a few people out of the way. But if Shiftry thinks it’s for the best, so do I.”
Grovyle sighed sadly. “Shiftry may treat you great, but he’s still a bad guy for what he’s done to these villages. Like I said, we’ll help you out if you help us bring Shiftry down.”
Pawniard closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. “Alright, I’ll go back with you. But I’m not promising anything. I’ll talk to your friends, I’ll help you get ready for a confrontation, but I don’t want to directly oppose Shiftry.”
“You won’t be needed to,” Grovyle said. “I assure you, you can just help us out behind the scenes. I won’t ask anything more of you.”
“Alright,” Pawniard said. He stood up and Grovyle didn’t oppose him. “You two aren’t going to tackle me to the ground, are you?”
Chatot opened his mouth to speak, but Grovyle cut him off. “No, don’t worry. You just walk in-between us and we’ll consider that good enough.”
Pawniard nodded and allowed a small smile to cross his face. “Thanks.” He turned to Chatot. “And sorry about the whole ‘trying to kill you’ thing. Are you sure you’re alright?”
“It’s just a scratch,” Chatot said, sticking his wing out and revealing the line of blood along its underside. “It’s nothing that I can’t handle. I’m just lucky you aren’t better at your job.”
“I’ll try not to take that as an insult,” Pawniard said. He paused. “And don’t go thinking that I actually care whether you’re okay or not. I was just hoping that the wound might be deep enough that you’d die of blood loss on the way back.”
Chatot rolled his eyes. “I’m sure that’s it. Now let’s get going. We’ve got work to do.”
“Right,” Grovyle said. The three turned and began to walk out of the clearing. Pawniard stood in the middle, casting cautious glances back and forth between his captors. “We should go straight to Wigglytuff,” Grovyle continued. “He’ll surely know how to address the situation.” He sighed and turned to Pawniard. “Say, did Shiftry have any specific reason for coming to Treasure Town now?”
Pawniard nodded. “Yeah, it had to do with those Piplup and Chimchar guys. You know, those legendary heroes or whatever they are. Since they apparently disappeared, Shiftry decided that this would be the best chance to target a bigger place like Treasure Town. He never said explicitly, but I think he was afraid of those two. That’s why he waited this long to come here.”
“Figures,” Grovyle said. “I was wondering if it was just coincidence. We’ve been planning to go look for Piplup and Chimchar for awhile now and then this blasted trouble comes up and delays us. Who knows? Maybe Shiftry has already held us off too long.”
“Don’t be so grim,” Chatot said. “We both know Piplup and Chimchar. They’re fighters. Why, I’d bet that they’ve already given that rapscallion Darkrai what he deserves a thousand times over.”
Grovyle smiled. “You’re probably right.” He paused and looked up through the canopy of leaves overhead, casting flickering shadows across his features. “And if they haven’t, then I will.”
The guards gave a hasty salute as Darkrai appeared from the darkness of the canyon before them. He gave a quick nod and they moved aside, each grabbing a crank and twisting the massive gates open. With another nod, Darkrai strode forward, passing the guards and entering the castle without a sound.
He quickly crossed the empty courtyard, which was alive with the shadows cast by the towering buttresses overhead. Despite its airiness, the cold stone blocks of the castle walls gave it the atmosphere of a prison. A shiver passed through his body, but he shrugged it off. There was business to be done.
He entered the main tunnel and began the long walk into the castle’s depths. He traversed countless dark corridors and passageways; it had been a long time since he’d seen this place, but he remembered it perfectly. The occasional soldier or servant crossed his path, but he dismissed them all with a simple nod or salute.
Fifteen minutes had passed when Darkrai finally reached his destination. He strode through the final doorway and couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. The room was cavernous and the ceiling was so high it could hardly be seen. The entire room was basked in shadows, which writhed as though straining to escape. On the opposite side of the room, a massive stone was carved out of the wall. Jewels of varying shades of red, blue, and even black adorned its borders. Seated on the throne was a single figure. The figure looked up, his single blue eye blinking in astonishment.
Darkrai rose from his throne and stared in complete disbelief at the newcomer in the entryway. Darkrai didn’t see his own reflection often, but he’d seen it enough to realize that he was looking at a mirror image of himself.
“Before I kill you,” Darkrai said slowly, watching the newcomer carefully. “Tell me who you are and what you’re doing here.”
“Can you not see what stands before you?” the imposter said as if the answer should be obvious. “I am your reflection!” He assumed an identical pose to Darkrai to emphasize his point. “Look deep into my eye. What do you see? Pride? Satisfaction? Horror? Pain? Whatever it is, I assure you, I will haunt your nightmares.”
Darkrai snarled in utter contempt. “You can teach me nothing about nightmares.”
Deoxys chose that exact moment to enter the room. “Hey Darkrai, do you think that –” He stopped in mid-sentence and looked back and forth between the two Darkrai. His facial expression didn’t change, nor did his tone. “Um, I’ll come back later.”
“Please, stay!” the imposter said. “I insist. I think you’ll want to hear this conversation.”
Deoxys shrugged and leaned back against the wall. “Alright, whatever you say.”
In a flourish, Darkrai drew Umbra from its scabbard and pointed it straight at the poser. “Speak the truth, intruder. I know better than to believe that you’re some supernatural reflection of myself. Assume your true form.”
“If that is what you wish,” the imposter said with a shrug. His image quivered for a moment and there was a flash of blinding white light. A second later, the second Darkrai was gone, replaced by a bipedal figure with a long snout and a furry mane of red hair hanging down his back. He bowed deeply to Darkrai with a sarcastic grin. “My name is Zoroark. I am an agent of Dialga. And I know much about you, Lord Darkrai. Much more than your friend Deoxys, I am sure.”
Deoxys leaned forward in interest. “Really? Please, tell me more.”
Darkrai scowled. “An agent of Dialga? Doesn’t that freak have anything better to do with his time than to send dorks like you to spy on me?”
“Master Dialga has plenty of time to do just that as well as anything else he may want to do,” Zoroark said. “He’s the master of time, after all.”
Deoxys smirked. “He’s got you there.”
“Will you stay out of this?” Darkrai snapped. He turned back to Zoroark. “So why are you here? What business has the royal fool sent you on now?”
“Oh, I’m not here for Dialga,” Zoroark said. “I came here of my own accord. I’ve served my purpose here in the Beyond. I just figured I might come here and see what damage I could do.”
Darkrai laughed, his deep chuckle echoing in the enormous stone room. “You came here to face me? Me? Fine! Be my guest!” He swung Umbra experimentally. “I will be happy to put you in your place.”
Zoroark held up a finger to stop him. “Not just yet. I want to talk first. We’ve been here together for 574 years and yet we’ve never had the chance to chat until now.”
Darkrai paled and Deoxys’s eyes grew wide. “Wh-what are you talking about?” Darkrai said hurriedly.
Zoroark feigned surprise. “What’s this? You never told your dear friend Deoxys how old you are? That’s absurd. Friends shouldn’t keep secrets. It weakens the relationship.”
Deoxys turned to Darkrai, the disbelief written on his face. “It’s true? You’re 574 years old?”
Darkrai released a sigh. “Older. I honestly don’t even know how old I am. I was created in times immemorial.”
“Created?” Deoxys said in obvious confusion. “You said you were a descendent of the traitor Electabuzz. I suspected that you were lying, though I wasn’t sure what you were trying to hide.”
“I will tell you all later, Deoxys,” Darkrai said. Deoxys was surprised to hear a genuine ring of truth in Darkrai’s tone and he backed down. Darkrai turned his attention back to Zoroark. “So that’s all you’re here for? To remind me of a past that I wish I could forget and to face me in a futile battle? I must say, I don’t see what it was in you that impressed Dialga.”
“Probably the fact that I’ve lived and worked here for as long as you have without ever encountering you,” Zoroark said. He paused and scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Well, unless you count that one time . . .”
Darkrai frowned. “What?”
Zoroark waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m sure you don’t remember. We bumped into each other briefly in the time stream once, when you were trying to mess up a certain pair of interlopers’ journey. Of course, I didn’t even get the chance to show myself, though I did see you.”
Darkrai’s blood ran cold and he was momentarily at a loss for words. “No. No, it’s not possible. You can’t possibly have . . . ?”
Zoroark laughed, though it was a sound without any trace of humor. “Honestly, Darkrai? You think it’s complete coincidence that your attempt to destroy Grovyle and his human friend resulted in the human turning into a Pokemon and meeting Chimchar? While the irony in you creating Piplup and ultimately your own downfall would be delicious, it’s sadly not the case.” He smiled widely. “I was there too. I made sure that the human transformed and that he wound up on that beach on that fateful day. It was no twist of fate; it was all orchestrated beforehand.”
“IMPOSSIBLE!” Darkrai screamed. He let loose a vicious roar and charged at Zoroark, swinging Umbra in massive wild arcs over his head. Deoxys quickly ducked back close to the wall to avoid the brewing conflict. Zoroark skillfully ducked and weaved around each of the sword blows, which scraped across the floor with a terrible screeching sound that rang off the walls endlessly. Finally, Darkrai stopped, hanging his head and breathing raggedly. His eye burned with hatred. “I am the master of my own fate, and of everyone else’s fate in this blasted universe as well!” Umbra began glowed an all-consuming black as though it sought to engulf everything like a black hole. He raised the sword to strike again. “None can deny my will!”
Zoroark smiled, the same sarcastic grin that he’d worn throughout the entire conversation. “Allow me to argue!”
He zipped forward with lightning speed as Umbra swung down from above.
Next Time: Lugia informs Piplup of his mysterious past while Darkrai does ironically the same thing with Deoxys. Meanwhile, Combusken finally decides on a temporary course of action while he tries to decide who to follow, though his position puts him far closer to one side than he would ever believe.
I hope you all enjoy this chapter!
