Night had finally fallen on Mt. Coronet, yet the crown of darkness that had appeared above it, raining nothingness upon Sinnoh, was no more. A sliver of moonlight could be seen filtering through the clouds above.

Cynthia looked up at the sky, then back down at the man kneeling before her, stabbing an ornate black sword into the ground, where the Griseous Orb previously was. Her chest tightened. Fury, panic and confusion burst inside her like flashes of lightning, but for once that storm was not reflected in her eyes. She felt so exhausted all of a sudden. So wrung out…

"W…why?" she asked, voice weak. "Why would you do this?"

Riley said nothing. He pushed against the sword's pommel, rising to his feet and tugging at the lapels of his suit, then glancing at Cynthia. Only one eye could be seen from under that long tuft of hair, and there was no malice reflected in it. It was dismaying.

Behind her, Candice was on her knees, grunting and crying out in pain, trying hopelessly to keep herself together. To keep the two opposite powers inside her from disappearing. Darkrai and Cresselia's voice were echoed in her own. Getting weaker with each passing second. And they were not the only ones.

Fantina let out a grunt as well, her whole body tensing up in pain. Panicked, she looked down at the gloves adorning her arms, and noticed small motes of black smoke tinting the pristine white. With a sharp inhale, she grabbed the fabric and quickly took them off. Those black and purple veins, those conduits of decay that had always adorned her hands ever since her communion with Giratina, were vanishing. Like smoke rising through water, the darkness was slowly being burned off her skin. It rose in curls of black, only to dissipate into the air not long after.

"I… I can't believe it."

Sanbica, who usually prided herself in keeping her composure around her mother, looked at those arms with a mix of awe and horror. She forced herself to swallow, then turned toward Riley, glaring daggers at him.

"Isn't that what you always wanted?" he said curtly. "You're welcome."

"This…" She almost choked on her words, spitting them out like poison. "This can't be what your orders were. He would never tell you to do this."

"Mhm, who can say?" shrugged Riley. "Boss changes his mind a lot, and I mean that in the most literal way possible. Who knows what he really wants? That's why I follow the plan, and not him. This outcome was desirable regardless… I'm sure you'll agree, once you calm down."

"D… desirable!?" Sanbica repeated, indignant. "How can you–!?"

"You said so yourself," Riley interrupted. "The lunar duo and the lake siblings are too much of a wildcard to be left to their own devices. And as for those three…" He looked up toward the sky, where the portal to nothingness had previously been. "…even if it's a ways off, you know what fate has in store for them. I'd hoped we could at least both agree that this is a kindness."

Sanbica unconsciously raised a hand to her chest, glowering. "My… predictions are not always correct."

Riley raised his arms slightly, smiling and shaking his head with a 'Well, that's that, then' expression on his face.

Cynthia made the most disgusted sound, face contorting into a mask of anger. "You… can't expect to get away after this."

"Hm? What do you mean?" he asked, feigning innocence. "I'm just a civil servant. A member of the Interpol who came to Sinnoh to resolve an international crisis when their own government could not… and I have done just that." He gave her a sly smile. "If you've got a complaint, you're more than welcome to leave it at Interpol HQ. I'm sure my secretary will get it to me in two weeks time at most."

"Y-you…!"

"I mean, it's not like you could do much more, now that you've been stripped of the title of Champion," he teased. "Maybe I should challenge the Elite Four and try out for your old job? I've got the eight badges, after all."

Cynthia's patience snapped. She threw her hand forward and, finding strength somewhere, yelled at the top of her lungs.

"Lorencia! Apprehend him!"

The Garchomp jumped forward, dust exploding around where her feet were a second ago. She streaked toward Riley like a bullet, eyes gleaming, furious.

But there was another blur. An azure shadow that emerged from behind the man to intercept Lorencia with almost equal speed and power. Sparks flew. A metallic clank resounded, like hammers hitting each other, and the two Pokemon were thrown back by the impact. Riley's Lucario wasted no time raising his paws once more, falling into a combative stance. Lorencia did the same, but there was a glint of concern in her eyes. Normally, beating a foe like this would be no trouble for her, but the battle against Nyss had weakened significantly.

Cynthia knew this, and judging by the smile Riley shot her just then, he knew too.

"I think it's about time I take my leave," he said. "But before that, you can have this back."

He took the golden ring off his finger, then flipped it like a coin toward Cynthia. Panicked, she reached and grabbed it before it could fall. And that single second was all the distraction Riley needed. When her eyes fell on him again, he was accompanied by another Pokemon, a tall and imposing creature of green and white; a Gallade.

The Pokemon began to glow, and the ground under all three of them glowed as well. The air shifted and compressed.

"No!" Cynthia shouted.

Behind her, Candice looked up at the man, spluttering and coughing and on her hands and knees. "Y-you piece of shit…!"

It was too late. With a 'pop' and a shimmer of light, Riley and his Pokemon vanished into thin air. Cynthia's eyes shot wide open. They moved from the spot where the man had previously stood to the lonely ebon sword, stabbed into the ground. It was starting to vanish as well, bleeding into smoke. Icy coldness gripped at her heart.

"AGH! F-FUCK…!"

She turned around, and saw Candice collapse in a heap on the ground, face contorted by pain, hands grabbing onto her temples like she wanted to stop the light and darkness inside her from vanishing. She looked up. Two near-transparent silhouettes hovered above the Gym leader, losing color and physicality with every second that passed.

"…So this is how it ends." Cresselia's bitter voice filled the air. "How… utterly expected."

Darkrai made a noise that almost sounded like a sigh. "At least the two of us will–"

"NO!"

Candice's scream was raw, so sharp it sounded as though it tore out the inside of her throat. One of her hands fell to the floor next to her head. Fingers curled strongly against the ancient stone, turning pale from the sheer strength of her grip.

"I'm not… letting you go!" she growled. "You d-don't deserve… this isn't… fair!"

The driest, most cynical laughter was heard from Cresselia. "I cannot fathom what you could have seen from this world to make you believe fairness exists."

"It is… alright, child." Darkrai didn't sound angry or bitter, just utterly exhausted. "If we can at least dance through the sky one last time, then at least we shall not fully d–"

"W-wait! I can…"

All eyes turned to her. Cynthia swallowed, a burst of adrenaline coursing through her body. She could fix this. She could fix everything, and then…

"I can bring Inyssa and the others back. And I can…" She took a quick inhale. "I c-can probably save the two of you as well."

Fantina turned to look at her, wide-eyed. "You can?"

"Yes! The Azure Flute…" She smiled. "With it, I'm sure I can…"

Candice, though unable to speak, glowered up at her in a way that seemed to say 'Then what are you waiting for!?'. Fantina simply stood expectant, holding her breath. Sanbica said nothing, her face expressionless, yet tense with anticipation.

"Here, I'll…"

Cynthia felt the weight of the flute in her pocket. With a quick inhale, she dug inside and reached for it, waiting for that pleasant warmth to meet her fingers.

But there was nothing. Her fingers closed around empty air, and that feeling of weight in her pocket disappeared as though it had never been there. Cynthia's heart froze in her chest. But no, that couldn't be, she must've missed it. She dug again, searching every inch of her pocket, yet came up empty once more.

"…Cynthia?" Fantina asked, fear in her voice.

Panic overtook her. Frantically, she dug her other hand into the opposite pocket, but there was nothing there either. Just empty space.

The flute was gone.

"W-wh-wh…" A low mumble left her lips, incomprehensible. "It was… I h-had it here in my pocket just now! What–!?"

A bright, piercing pain stabbed into Cynthia's head at that moment, like an arrow of sunlight digging into her temple. She screamed and keeled over, hand shooting up to her head. Her vision swam. The world around her disappeared, colors bleeding out like paint being splashed with water. And then, a vision. A blurry glimpse of someone standing amidst a piece of the sky, transparent pillars like glass rising all around her. It was her. Another Cynthia. She stood with her back to her, looking up at a breathtaking spectacle, a sky gleaming with long, billowing ribbons of multicolor light like Aurora Borealis. It was as though veins of luminescence were streaking through heaven.

"I was too late," the other Cynthia whispered, distraught. "Please, if there is a way to fix it…"

It blinked out, as fast as it had appeared. Cynthia returned to reality, colors and sound falling back into place, depicting the top of Mt. Coronet around her. She let go of the breath she'd been holding, and realized she was gripping both sides of her head so strongly it hurt.

"Cynthia!?" Fantina placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. "W-what is happening?"

She said nothing. Her gaze went down toward Candice, still shaking and squirming. Then it moved up and to the right, behind Fantina. The Gym leader probably hadn't noticed, but Sanbica was holding the side of her head too, face scrunched up in pain.

Their eyes met, and some sort of realization seemed to dawn on the young woman.

"It was you."

"What?" Cynthia whispered.

"Those three irregularities… those rifts in the flow of causality… that was you. They were your doing."

"I–!"

Another flare of pain, another vision. This time, it was a scene she'd lived through once before. Nyss stood before her, sword in hand.

"I know you're pressed for time and it might just turn out just like last time, but…"

"W-what's…?"

Sanbica kept talking. "You should know. The Azure Flute is the most powerful out of all the relics. It exists outside of time and space, just like the singularities. That means it can only exist once across all of reality. And it can only–"

"B-be used once," Cynthia finished the sentence, eyes shooting wide open. "That's…"

Another flash, another memory. Nyss' voice resounded in her head.

"I am aware that only a few thousand years have passed in the outside world, but this valley, this… depression in between the two realms, exists outside the confines of space and time. That is what allowed us to meet here, for the second time."

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"T…that can't be…"

A shift. A blur of light and color as another similar memory flashed through her eyes. Her own voice this time, followed by Nyss'.

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

"Ha... worry not. You will find out soon enough, hopefully."

Cynthia was shaking, a terrible, icy cold biting at her veins. Realization slowly dawned on her, as Sanbica spoke once more.

"The Azure Flute disappeared the moment all three of those irregularities converged here," she said. "It's gone... because you have already used it, Cynthia. Its power was spent by you."

The pain flared once more, brighter and sharper than Cynthia could endure. She let out a jagged scream and fell to her knees clutching her head as the world changed around her. And just like that, she was no longer in Mt. Coronet. She was back within that heavenly chamber, that platform of clear crystal standing above the sky itself.

The Hall of Origin.

The other Cynthia before her looked up at the sky, and begged.

"Please… there has to be something I can do."

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Metchi's leg faltered and she almost fell to her knees, but caught herself just in time and swung the blade of light with one hand, dispelling the darkness falling upon her.

"Metchi…" Azelf whispered.

To the left, then to the right. She stomped on the ground and threw all her weight and strength into every swing, but even then it was a struggle. Like cutting through wood with a butter knife. The darkness was thickening, coalescing. It lashed toward her from all directions, hungrily licking at the empty space between it and the intruders of its realm. It was getting harder to push it back each time. And yet Metchi did it. Without complaint, she raised her hands and brought the blade down again and again, keeping nothingness at bay for just a second longer.

"Metchi," Azelf called again. "You can't–"

"SHUT! UP!"

Each word was punctuated by a swing of her blade, the strength behind them seemingly greater than before, as though fueled by her anger alone.

"Would it kill you to believe in someone for once in your fucking life!?" she bellowed, furious. "What happened to reality bending to our Will!? Were those just fancy words!?"

And she threw herself at the endless darkness again, her body worn, exhausted, but her Spirit burning like a great bonfire.

"This… is not reality. It is what lies beyond," Azelf said, matter of factly. "I'm sorry, Metchi. I really am, but against a force such as this…"

Metchi looked up, and her heart seized in her throat at the sight of two enormous blood-red eyes staring down at her. The coiling darkness, those spiked red wings… Giratina could not control itself anymore. It was coming straight at them.

"…I'm afraid the human Will is powerless."

She reacted to those words in the same way she did every time she was told something was impossible. Planting her feet, taking a deep breath and readying herself to prove them wrong. Her grip tightened. The flowing spring of light between her hands glowed brighter, rushing like the blood in her veins.

"Metchi…"

"What's the harm in trying?" she asked, scowling. "If I'm right, I get to save them, and if I'm wrong… well, I'm gonna die regardless, aren't I? Why not take that bet?"

Giratina shot toward her in all its immensity and power, like an ocean's worth of water falling upon a small Caterpie. This had to be it. The nagging voice in her head she'd been trying to muffle told her so, and for a moment her muscles tensed up, her grip relaxing.

But then she kicked that voice in its ass and threw her hands up, holding the blade like a beacon, screaming at the top of her lungs. The darkness crashed against it, pushing with such unfathomable force she barely kept herself from dropping it. A loud hiss resounded through the air, light burning darkness, darkness swallowing light. Metchi clenched her teeth, strength leaving her body. She couldn't… she couldn't hold it, couldn't–

A gentle gust of wind brushed against her body, whispering so softly. Metchi blinked. She looked over her shoulder, and was immediately blinded.

A golden gale rose up from out of nowhere, spiraling around her body with the force of a hurricane. The pressure against her lifted. It ate away at the darkness, millions of tiny blades of glowing wind cutting at it one inch at a time, growing and expanding, keeping Giratina at bay.

"W-wh…?"

"How pathetic, Azelf," the ethereal voice of Mesprit said. "I never knew you to be one to give up so easily."

She heard steps behind her, and turned to see Barry standing there, one hand raised forward, face scrunched up and covered in sweat. The gold of his eyes flashed, and the golden wind grew fiercer. It became a tempest, a storm of swirling power that grew and grew, forming a protective dome around the platform they stood upon. Lighting up their small pocket of existence.

Metchi swallowed, breathless. "Barry…"

There were tears running down his cheeks. He looked panicked, terrified. It was the expression of a kid who did not want to die. Metchi looked over him, toward the collapsed bodies of Inyssa and her sister, still unmoving, small, vine-like tendrils of darkness trying to claim them.

"M-Metchi…" Barry sobbed, the storm of golden wind around him faltering, but not disappearing. "W-we have to save Niss, we have to d-do something…"

Her heart tightened inside her chest, and the blood in her veins boiled with an anger she could not describe. Perhaps that was exactly the incentive she needed. She stood up to her full height, weakness burning away in the rage that now consumed her, and stared at the flood of nothingness around them.

She raised her hands, grip tightening on the blade of light, and spoke with as reassuring a tone as she could produce.

"I already told you, didn't I? You two haven't annoyed me nearly enough with your lovebird routine, so I can't have you die yet." She smiled, though Barry could not see it. "I'm bringing you both back home, even if it's the last thing I do."

She wound the blade back, staring up at the endless darkness with an expression like death itself. The red of Giratina's eyes bore into her like burning suns, but she held its gaze, and bellowed with all the strength in her soul.

"GHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Her scream was raw, guttural. Her eyes flew wide open, filled with fury. "Come on! I'll tear every inch of you to fucking shreds before I let you have them!"

----------------------------------------

Cynthia stared speechless as the other her waited for a response, begging eyes staring up at the impossibly bright flame burning through the sky.

It finally answered, and the world shifted ever so slightly with the sound of its voice.

"Why have you come?"

It wasn't a booming, all-powerful voice like she'd been expecting, but a soft one. Soft in the way the dying wind is after a storm. Soft like feathers falling on snow. Despite the panic and fear she and the other Cynthia felt, that voice calmed them instantly, their Spirits reacting to it, craving its warmth.

"I… gathered all of the plates," the other Cynthia said, as if she didn’t understand the question. "I wanted at first to give myself to… no, that doesn't matter anymore! Please, you have to help me… you have to help me save them! I've made a terrible mistake…"

Cynthia had never heard herself so ragged, so afraid. It sent a chill down her spine.

"I know," spoke the voice, loving, understanding. "I have seen it. You have lost much to get this far."

The other Cynthia looked down and clutched at her chest. From where she was, she could see small droplets fall on the glass-like floor under the woman's feet. Tears.

"I thought they were ready," she pleaded. "I t-thought I could sacrifice anything if it meant… finding this place. Finding you. But now I… I just want them back." She looked up, lower lip shaking. "I killed them. I sent them against Nyss, I told them everything would be okay and… b-but they weren't strong enough! If only we'd had Azelf's hero…"

Behind her, the real Cynthia's eyes went wide as plates as she listened to her other self. She'd thought as much, but this was… insane. Metchi was Azelf's hero. Did this Cynthia not know that? Had she… never found her? Then that would mean she'd taken only Barry and Inyssa to challenge Nyss, and there… there, the two young trainers had…

She clutched at her chest, feeling terribly sick all of a sudden.

"Please, you are my last resort!" Cynthia yelled, demanding. "E-even if I were to follow my original plan… there's no longer anyone who can go into the Distortion world and prevent Giratina's escape! B-but you! With your power, maybe there's something I can do!"

Her voice echoed through the heavenly halls, and what followed was the heaviest, emptiest silence she had ever felt. As though the realm around them existed only by the Will of the being burning through its sky. It was otherwise empty, devoid of all.

The light pondered, silent, for a few long seconds. Then it spoke, its tone regretful.

"Your flame burns stronger than any other," it said. "I find it odd that you would look at the large shadow you cast and ask it for help."

Cynthia stammered at that. "W-what?"

The white flames above expanded with a roar, enormous arc of luminescent ivory trailing through the sky like a burning aurora borealis. They were impossibly massive. As though the sun itself had bled out into the world. Cynthia gawked, amazed, the streaks of light reflecting like lightning on the stormy grey of her eyes.

"This," said the voice. "Is you."

"I… don't understand."

"When I fell, I divided myself alongside your kind. I am you. And you… are me. You are the flame, and I am the shadow. That is all."

The other Cynthia swallowed, shaking her head ever so slightly. She did not like the realization starting to dawn on her. She did not like the horribly dispassionate voice with which her god spoke to her, as though it were little more than an answering machine, a mirror that was being held up to her.

"N-no, but… you're here!" she said. "You are real! This is what remains of you!"

"Yes, much like a reflection exists on the other side of a mirror. As above–"

"So below," the real Cynthia whispered, looking from far away. So it was true. All of this… the light she'd spent all her life chasing…

"T-that can't be…" The other Cynthia balled her hands into fists and closed her eyes. "Then what was the point of this!? The plates, the flute… w-what am I supposed to do!? How can I save them!?"

"It is simple. Yet I imagine it is a solution you, in your blinding brightness, would have never thought of on your own."

There was a hint of sad laughter in its voice as it said that. The other Cynthia looked up, expectant, and was met with the most incomprehensible piece of advice she'd ever been given.

"Let someone else be the hero."

Both Cynthia were left speechless. They blinked in unison, as if not understanding what they'd just heard.

"…What?"

"It is so terribly hard, I know. In that, you and I are similar," it said. "You ask what is the point of the plates, and of the flute, yet that should be self-explanatory. They are keys for the Hall of Origin. A chamber outside of the bounds of reality. There below, you swat at the reflection of the moon on water in a vain attempt to fell it from the sky. Here above, the whole firmament is within your reach."

"I…"

The gleaming, flowing ivory of the sky was reflected on Cynthia's eyes as she looked, and the more she did, the more she realized they were indeed but shadows. Pale imitations of the light that burned below, down the other side of the mirror.

Her light. Her flame. Her Spirit.

For the first time she looked down, not up. At her spread out hands. At her flexing fingers, glowing ever so slightly with power that ran through her like blood. How hadn't she noticed it before?

"You are not the first, although you might be the last," the voice said. "When your blood last visited these harrowed halls, it was my more... animalistic side that met it. My shadow and I... It was not a good time for either of us; we were too harsh, too vindictive on the poor man. We've both learned to give ourselves up, to serve as reflections rather than our true selves. And now... here you are. And I suppose you know what you must do to right the wrongs of every you beforehand.."

"...I can save them," Cynthia whispered, disbelieving. "From here, I can change things."

It was as though she were looking at the world with wider, all-knowing eyes. She was no longer someone kneeling before a monarch sitting on its throne, because she now realized the throne was hers. It would only be so for the shortest of instants, but even so...

That light from below started pooling inwards, attracted almost magnetically toward her body, and the luminous shadow above followed suit. Cynthia breathed it in, feeling the light fill her. It rushed through her veins and danced around her fingertips, eager, warm. A sun, living within her chest.

It was time she shared its warmth.

"If this is…" she stopped, thinking over her words. "If I am outside of space and time, then I can… change how it all went. I can save them."

The voice echoed once more. "It will not be easy. The flow of causality itself is stubborn, regardless of power or intent. But a sudden change, an obstacle, no matter how small, may be able to divert its course ever so slightly."

"Small changes…" The other Cynthia whispered to herself. "That's as much as I can manage, but if I choose the right time and place…"

She looked down, her sight now vast, seeing outside her body, seeing the flow of reality unfolding beneath her. Fate. Cause and effect. A million billion lives, flowing into each other like droplets of water in an ocean. All she had to do was throw a stone at the right place, at the right time, and the ensuing splash would eventually become a tsunami.

"…I see it," she suddenly said, breathless. "The perfect moments…"

And at that exact moment, the real Cynthia saw three distinct scenes flash before her eyes, just as they had flashed through the eyes of the other her. They were hazy and bright, like a dream. At first glance, they were inconsequential moments. Inyssa walking the opposite direction from Sandgem's Pokemon Center as the sun went down behind her. A wounded Metchi making her way through a small mountain path on the side of Route 208. Barry walking through the streets of Veilstone, looking bored.

But then the scenes played again, although differently. A sudden chill stopped Inyssa in her tracks, making her realize she was going the wrong way. Metchi stepped on a pebble that hadn't been there before, sending her tumbling down the side of the mountain. An unexpected gust of wind hit Barry in the back of the head, distracting him for long enough for someone to call out to him.

The real Cynthia blinked, returning to reality. Then the other her inhaled deeply, and whispered.

"I can only hope this will be enough."

Arceus' shadow let out a soft laugh like sunlight, and replied. "Hope is all there is, once the rest of the box has been emptied. And yet…"

"We make do," smiled the other Cynthia. "Always."

"Always."

And with those words, the illusion broke.

It felt like waking up from a dream, the sound of a bubble being popped echoing inside Cynthia's head as her mind returned to her body. She inhaled, sharply. Blinked a few times in rapid succession, the sudden lack of light confusing her brain.

She was back on Spear Pillar, back in the real world. Fantina's hand was on her shoulder, tensed, fearful.

"C-Cynthia?" she asked. "What…?"

"You saw it, didn't you?"

Cynthia swallowed, then nodded. Her eyes met Sanbica's, dark and knowing, and so impossibly deep.

"You were right. I already used the flute," she whispered. "I already…"

But she couldn't finish the sentence, not enough air filling her lungs. She felt drained, exhausted. What she'd seen…

"A-agh! Then… w-what do we do!?" Candice spat out, her voice tensed, pained. "How do we save Darkrai and Cresselia!?"

The two pale specters looked at the girl with sadness, and pity. Their corporeality was vanishing fast; they were but mirages now. Cynthia looked them in the eye, and through them said what her mouth couldn't. There was surprise. Sadness. Anger. And then…

"…I see." whispered Cresselia. "Perhaps that is for the better…"

"It is… better than the alternative," Darkrai offered, his voice flat, almost dead. "At least this way, we might..."

Candice stopped struggling for a moment, and looked hastily over her shoulder, confused. "What?"

"As I said… the flute was already used," said Cynthia, carefully picking her words. This would not be an easy subject to breach. "I did all that I could to nudge fate in the right direction." She felt Sanbica's sudden glare on her back as she said that. "Now all that's left is to trust in Barry, Metchi and Inyssa to find their way back. And for that…"

Sharpness. Candice's glare clashed against hers, and she couldn’t get the last words out. Luckily, Darkrai and Cresselia finished the sentence for her.

"And for that," said the former, looking up at the thin sliver of moonlight above. "They will need a beacon to guide them home."

"One as bright as the full moon," said the latter. "Or as the souls of its guardians."