Dark clouds gathered over Sinnoh. They stretched far and wide, blocking every ray of sunlight across the region, swallowing even the peak of Mt. Coronet in their path. Such a phenomenon was not unusual during the transition between autumn and winter, but it was sudden and unwelcome nonetheless.

In times of war such as these, the sight of the sun being blocked by a wall of darkness was troubling for those who believed in forces like fate, annoying for those who didn't, and simply depressing the few in between. Skeptics or believers, people who supported the war and people who didn't, regardless of how bitterly they addressed one another, the sight of the same sky met them when they looked up, and that was the one link connecting them which they would never be able to sever, no matter how hard they tried.

And as one of the many who had tried, and would continue to try all throughout his life, Cyrus looked up and was met with the same dreary scene as every other Sinnohan. He stood on the edge of one of the many grassy plateaus north of Eterna, waiting. The wind bit into him through his clothes, a sharp cold that bled into the skin underneath and dug deeper to the bone. It was that extremely dry kind of wind that could rob someone of their warmth in an instant, the kind that had killed many unsuspecting outsiders who knew only of the gentler, calmer winds from other regions.

There was a saying, often told as warning to those who visited Sinnoh. 'When Nyss was called to battle during winter, she grabbed her cloak before her blade'.

As a native, Cyrus was used to it. He kept his breathing steady, mouth covered by a thick scarf. Pearly white mist left his nose every time he exhaled, a little bit of warmth gone. He would have moved. Maybe run around the plateau and warm his limbs until Cynthia arrived, but he didn't feel the need to. That was the thing about the Sinnohan cold too; it bore into you like a thick blanket, leaving you feeling heavy, unmotivated. It made you wonder what was the point of warming yourself up if it would only keep the cold at bay for a short time.

Even Eterna, one of Sinnoh's most vibrant cities, looked gloomy and lifeless right now. Though that probably had more to do with the war than anything else.

Cyrus looked up, and again only a wall of grey met his gaze. It'd been like that for a few days now, just endless black clouds, threatening to rain yet never raining, threatening to thunder yet staying still and silent. As he stared, he couldn't help but think that's what Cynthia's eyes might look like if they ever lost their light, their spark.

He shook his head at the odd thought, scoffing at himself, and turned around as the sound of batting wings resounded behind him. A wide figure flew up from the other side of the plateau, a large white Pokemon with blue and red markings across its body. It stayed as low as possible, landing only a few feet from him. The person kneeling on her back jumped, her boots dragging across the rocky floor as she landed.

"See anything unusual?"

Her voice was muffled by the scarf over her mouth, but it sounded about as dreary as he imagined Cynthia looked under all that winter attire. Even her long, golden hair was hidden, though that was more for the benefit of stealth than anything else. Only her eyes could be seen, supported by dark bags below.

He'd thought it a trick of the light at first, but no. Ever since that night in Pastoria, something had changed in the grey of her eyes. They weren't duller or anything of the sort. If anything, it was the opposite; if before they'd reminded him of grey clouds rolling over the horizon, now they were the tentative flash of lightning before thunder fell.

"Nothing at all," he finally replied, his voice not sounding much better. "It's… peaceful. Almost eerily so. I don't think any of the League's men have been sent here."

Despite being mostly clad and hidden in cloth, he could tell when she smiled. Tension left her shoulders and she breathed out more calmly.

"Good. Then they don't know Eterna's is the last badge I need." Her next words were livelier, exuding some of that warmth that could only come from her. "Looks like your efforts bore fruit. Thank you."

Cyrus scoffed and turned away in that particular way he did when he was unsure of how to react to a compliment. He could picture Cynthia's smile exacerbating behind him.

"You're the one who did the battling and the threatening. I just helped out with the logistics."

"There you go again."

With a flick of the wrist she produced Devias' Pokeball and returned her to it, then walked toward the edge of the plateau and looked down at the city alongside Cyrus. They stood there, silent, for almost an entire minute, stewing in their thoughts.

"Do you think you'll have to threaten her too?" he asked.

"I doubt it. From what I've heard, she is about as anti-war as Fantina was. If anything, she might join in on our plan."

He nodded absentmindedly. "We can only hope."

A month had passed since that night in the docks of Pastoria, though both of them would've been surprised at learning that, had they checked. The memory was fresh. Of warm blood running down their fingers, of the stench of death wafting in the humid air around them… it was all seared into their skulls, as though it'd only happened yesterday.

Thanks to Cynthia's quick thinking, they'd been able to turn the situation in their favor before anyone associated with the League could find Kayn's body. The shock and confusion on their side had given them a few good days of planning. And planning they did, because as deep as they now were, there really was no going back. Nor to Pokemon Centers or populated areas or the life they thought they had before.

They were now committed, blood-soaked as their hands were. Not only to resisting the League and the government, but to put an end to the war itself, no matter the cost. And when push came to shove, Cyrus realized he worked a lot better under pressure than he would've assumed. Eerily so.

His plan had been simple. Alongside the arrangement of Kayn's corpse, make it look as though Cynthia had also perished during the fight, her body missing, trails of blood leading toward the wetlands; a perfect place to get rid of evidence. And while their foes were too busy scratching their heads over what had happened, he and Cynthia would stealthily make their way toward the other towns whose Gym leaders she still needed badges from and… acquire them. Whether through a clean fight or otherwise, it didn't matter. The remaining Gym leaders were surely warned about her, and it was high time she stopped playing fair.

Now, with only the Forest Badge missing, there was little standing between Cynthia and the League itself. Of course, neither of them were naïve. Even if she showed up on Lily of the Valley island with all eight badges and ready to challenge the Elite Four, she doubted they'd offer her a fair challenge, or one at all, before trying to get rid of her again.

Which is why she was prepared to fight as dirty as necessary to reach that coveted chamber where the Champion rested. It was liberating for Cynthia, in a way. Without pretenses or false politeness, without the League rules and structure binding her, she could stop finally stop pretending. This was no longer about becoming the Champion. Maybe it had been at one point, before the war, but even then she knew that the Sinnoh she loved was not what it had once been. It was not what it deserved to be.

Stolen novel; please report.

Cynthia grabbed at her scarf, lowering it with one hand while taking out her woolen hat with the other. Her face came into view. Her hair fell in long curtains behind her, its bright sunlight color so unlike the dark, ominous look on her face.

Sinnoh would return to its former glory by her hand, or it would perish. In this, she would not be questioned.

"It's time," she whispered, determined. "Are you ready, Cyrus?"

He took a moment to reply, but when he did so, the fear and hesitation that had been present a month before was no longer there. It had died that night.

"Yes. I assume you will infiltrate the city and wait for morning before challenging her?"

Cynthia nodded. "What about you? Will you stay nearby?"

"You can reach me through the phone if necessary. I'd just be dead weight waiting here," he countered. "There's… something that's come to mind recently. An idea that hasn't left me alone, one I would like to try out."

"Hm?" Cynthia raised a curious eyebrow at him, but his face gave nothing away. And when he spoke again, it was with an air of mystery that was rare for him.

"I would like to check for myself just how important this 'Spirit' of your is," he said. "And whether it is wise for me to rely on it as a foundation for my actions."

A small laugh left Cynthia's lips. Exhausted, yet amused. Through the corner of his eyes, he saw her shake her head.

"Always over thinking things. But I guess that's what I like about you," she whispered to herself. "Fine. Then I guess I can come pick you up once I'm done here."

"I would appreciate that."

Cynthia looked at him, really looked for the first time since she'd arrived. As usual, he avoided her gaze mere moments after meeting it, but that was okay. She'd gotten used to reading between the lines with him.

"Are you sure you want to come with me to Lily of the Valley island? There's no need to put yourself in danger too."

"And what good would I be, were you to fail and were I to be left alone?" he countered. "Besides… I've already made up my mind. I'll be there for you. Regardless of the risks… or the consequences."

His words were rewarded with a smile, the kind that was bright and warm as sunlight, and just as difficult to look at for him. The kind that had been so absent this past month. The kind he missed the most, even if he would've never admitted it out loud.

"…Thank you," she whispered. "And good luck. May the moon…"

"…always guide you." Cyrus finished without thinking. "Even through the darkest and coldest of nights."

They hung there, staring at each other, for a few moments too long before finally turning around, Cynthia heading for Eterna while Cyrus headed for Lake Valor. And perhaps if they'd known, they would have stood there a bit longer. Enjoyed each other's company for a few more seconds, as meaningless as it would have been.

For those were the last moments of warmth they would ever share with one another.

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It wasn't long before the fight with Nyss ended for good. Weakened and exhausted as she was, she could only struggle for a few more minutes before the last of her strength ran out, leaving her body in curly ashen wisps like smoke from a dying fire.

The greatest of all warriors finally fell to her knees, and there was only one person there to see it.

"Nyss!"

Cynthia didn't know why she did it. Lorencia, after breaking through the doors of unconsciousness, had struggled and fought with only the barest embers of energy left in her, and had dealt the final blow only to collapse a moment after. The last of their Pokemon, down. If even a spark of strength had remained in Nyss, she could have easily killed Cynthia as she ran toward her, throwing herself at her knees to stop the woman's fall.

But she didn't. She let herself be held, the back of her head resting on Cynthia's hand, her wild mess of ashen hair spreading across her palm. And Cynthia herself found it surprising that the woman was so light, clad in armor as she was. It felt like holding a body made of light. A body made manifest by pure willpower, devoid of actual matter. And that light, that willpower… it was starting to run out. Nyss got paler, less substantial, with every second that passed, whatever it was that made up her body rising up in wisps around her, slowly bleeding out.

Cynthia lowered her gently, like putting a sleeping child to bed. A sigh of contentment left her lips, as though it was the first time she'd lay down to rest in centuries. Her eyes narrowed, the golden light behind them flickering on and off. She fought to keep them open. Fought to bring one last smile to her lips.

"Well… done," she breathed out, barely a whisper. "I knew from the start that… you and your companions had what it took to defeat me. But seeing your resolve first hand…"

She flinched, face scrunching up in pain. Cynthia looked down and her eyes widened at the sight of her body starting to dissipate, the wisps of light thickening.

"N-now… what's with that face?" Nyss asked, forcing herself to speak. Her voice sounded weaker, more distant. "Pity and regret… would ill-suit your victory, would it not?"

Cynthia pursed her lips, unable to reply. She felt a familiar sting behind her eyes, but that was nothing compared to the mess of emotions swirling inside her. Pride and regret. Joy and melancholy. And deep down, underneath all of them, a fear she didn't want to acknowledge, one that was so shameful it made her want to wretch.

"I…" She swallowed, finding it hard to speak the words. "I'm sorry."

A weak laugh left Nyss' lips. "You understand now, I presume. The feeling of having reached your pinnacle… and the fear of what that might represent. After all, what is a life's goal… but a burden, once it is achieved?"

Shame crept up Cynthia's throat, and she was unable to look at her anymore.

"That's…"

"It is alright," Nyss assured her. "I was the same, once. But where I went wrong… you have the opportunity to be better. Such is the benefit of experience."

One of Nyss' hands came up. It slid slowly across her stomach until it came to rest atop Cynthia's fingers. It was rough, but still warm, despite it all. She felt a shiver at the touch.

"Understand… that it was not your strength alone that got you this far. It was those who chose to fight at your side that… made the difference. And that is a power that no single person can match, no matter how bright their Spirit burns." For a short moment, Nyss' expression hardened, some of that strength returning to her. She looked deathly serious. "Do not forget why you embarked on this path. You spent your life cultivating your own flame… do not be bitter that it has reached its peak."

Cynthia's fingers closed tightly around Nyss'. She gave a shaky yet determined nod.

"I know. Now I must share its warmth with those that need it," she said. "It's been so long I'd… almost forgotten why I'd done all of this in the first place. It was so I could protect and care for this land I love, not just its relics and legends but its people too. Thank you… for reminding me."

"There's no need to thank me. Your journey… is far from over, and the road you travel will only become darker and more perilous as you continue. But seeing what I've seen, I am now confident… that the people of this era are more than capable of braving the storms building in the horizon."

Nyss smiled, eyes falling almost closed. She looked content.

"My journey, however… is finally at its end. It's been long. so very long…" Her voice wavered, almost on the verge of breaking. "But I have no regrets. I will die happy, knowing that this time... you succeeded without casualties."

And as she said those words, the world around them started to change. Almost as though it were an extension of Nyss herself, the barren valley around them started to dissipate as well, life and color bleeding out of it in dark, ashen curls of mist, like an illusion breaking down. But Cynthia had a tough time paying attention to it. Nyss' words echoed in her head. She frowned, still processing them.

"What... do you mean by 'this time'?" she asked. "You've... said that before. Mentioned something about having meeting us before."

An enigmatic smile formed on Nyss' lips. "Ha... worry not. You will find out soon enough, hopefully."

"What...?"

But Nyss didn't wait, didn't pay her confusion any mind. She kept talking, staring up at the dark sky. The ashes falling down looked so much like moving stars to her almost unseeing eyes.

"Once... I die, this point of coalescence will… collapse in on itself. The portal to the World of Distortion will be closed forever," she explained with what little strength she had left. "My Will was the only thing keeping it from disappearing. But before that..."

Nyss' other hand, pale, almost see-through, came up shakily toward Cynthia, holding something the size of her palm. A charcoal-black rectangular slab, upon which a multitude of unintelligible carvings could be seen. The Dread Plate.

"Take it. You are the only person… who can set things right now."

Cynthia nodded, taking the plate with shaky fingers. As soon as she did so, the hand previously holding it dissipated completely, evaporating into a small cloud of light. The rest of Nyss' body soon started to follow.

"N-Nyss…"

But the woman was barely even there anymore. Skin deathly pale, eyes almost entirely devoid of light. One last smile grazed her lips as she looked up at the sky, the last of her strength dissipating alongside her body like smoke in the wind.

Her last words echoed in the stillness of the valley, weak, small, yet satisfied.

"Synn…" she whispered lovingly. "Forgive your foolish sister for having kept you waiting for so long. I'll be there... in just a moment, so keep the doors open for me... will you?"

Her eyes fell closed under a blanket of ashen stars, and death claimed her with the softness of a feather falling on snow.