Cyrus dreamed of endless symmetrical patterns spanning across entropy's firmament, each the exact same yet comprised distinct parts. It was like looking into a kaleidoscope. And for a time, it was pleasant. All was well under the ever-moving sky.

He could not have surmised how much time passed before he realized he was not asleep. The concept had lost most of its meaning. It was after all quite difficult to measure the pure absence of what he was submerged in. Regardless if it was a minute or a year, his next blink came, and the perfect pattern before his eyes disappeared just as his mind came back to the forefront, and vainly attempted to analyze it. Now it was nothing but… things. Dregs of existence, floating amidst eternity with no rhyme or reason.

A question came to him. Why had he waken from his wide-eyed slumber? The answer came to him the next… it was hard to tell, but he thought it might have been a second. Perhaps a minute. He'd long since stopped hearing the sound of his own heartbeat, so it was hard to count.

It was the sound of footsteps that had awoke him. There, behind him, slow but decisive. Weary. And… familiar. Slowly, as though just remembering how, he rolled to the side and pushed himself against the rocky platform underneath, so he was once more sitting on the edge, his legs dangling over nothing. He blinked once, then lazily looked over his shoulder.

Seeing Cynthia standing behind him should have surprised him. It didn't. It made sense, just as those elusive patterns had made sense while in that state of waking mindlessness. Cyrus blinked again, and in the eternity of that blink he saw the trajectory of fate. The way causality had been twisted for this meeting to occur. He'd seen it once before, when holding onto the powers of the Creation Duo. But much like the truth of this place, the pieces only connected when the time was right.

"…You gave yourself up, then," he said, his voice sounding foreign to him. "Just like you always intended."

Cynthia smiled, then looked up at the sky of garbled matter. "I would like to think this was different."

Cyrus waited. "…But?"

"There is no but," she shrugged. "Is that spot taken, by the way?"

His lack of response was response enough. Cynthia took a couple steps forward and sat down at his side, a cloud of golden hair slowly falling around her, and over one of her eyes. A weary, exhausted sigh left her lips. She leaned forward, hands resting on her lap.

"…I let someone else be the hero," she said, unprompted. Bitterness tinted her voice. "And it somehow soured the whole thing."

A bit of laughter left Cyrus' lips. Cynthia turned to stare, like she couldn't believe the sound had come from him.

"I suppose I was right, then. You were never as selfless as you proclaimed."

Silence. Cynthia looked away, down at her lap, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"Is it funny? To have it confirmed?"

"More than you could possibly imagine," said Cyrus, the corners of his lips quirking up. "I am no better. I can't deny I've missed this."

"…Does that mean…?"

"You are not the Cynthia I dedicated my life to scorning," said Cyrus. "As useless of an endeavor as it was."

"No… I'm not," she said. "I'm worse."

Cyrus nodded. "Which, I suppose, finally brings you down to my level. I hope you enjoy it down here. I've only just begun to."

She couldn't help but smile back. "I guess that's fair. I don't really have the right to judge you, after… all I've done. But do we really have the time?"

"Is there time in this place?" asked Cyrus.

"Is there?" she repeated.

"Is there an echo?"

"Is there an echo?"

Silence. Then, the briefest bursts of laughter. They looked away from each other in unison, and into the endless black horizon before them. It was hard to say for how long they sat there, silent.

"…We won't last forever," she finally said, "the power of gods still cursing through our veins notwithstanding."

"Yes. We will be claimed, eventually," Cyrus replied, eyes half-lidded. "But until then, I… suppose I could suffer your company. It might ground me. Keep me together, until…"

Nothing more needed to be said. Cynthia gave a small nod, communicating through it a million words unsaid. Cyrus did not turn to look, but he knew, regardless.

"I guess there… is worse company to be had, while waiting for your death."

"I suppose there is."

Another long, silent pause. It might have been half of their remaining time, or less than a single percent of it. Probably the former, as when Cynthia finally spoke, her voice sounded weak, odd.

"…What about you? Is this place… it? The world you were looking for?" She took a moment to breathe. "I guess what I'm asking is… are you… satisfied?"

Cyrus lowered his head, and closed his eyes. A soft inhale, then a whisper. "No. Perhaps… the next time around."

"…Yes. Maybe."

No more words were said in between then and the small eternity before they were claimed. However, at some point, Cynthia let out a strained sound under her breath that might have sounded like an apology, if heard by someone who wasn't paying much attention. But there was no such being. There was no longer anything, after that.

Yet it didn't change the fact that those words were spoken, somewhere in eternity.

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Cynthia knelt to pick up the glass-like shard of stone amidst a pile of them, the flickering glow of the torch behind her dancing across its black surface. Obsidian, she remembered the material was called. Named after Nyss' famous weapon, and ultimately laid to rest by the very same, what once was Celestic's most closely-guarded secret now just a useless pile of pointy rocks at the end of a long cavern.

Expression unreadable, she turned the black shard in her palm and glared at it as though by that gesture alone she could repair the fresco it once belonged to. Yet whatever power had laid dormant in it was no longer there, just as it no longer shone behind her eyes, or the eyes of the rest of Celestic's townspeople. The singularity was gone. All of Sinnoh's were. Some would have found that fact reassuring, but Cynthia couldn't help but clutch at her chest and grit her teeth at the absence. Like a vital organ that had been taken away from her.

"…Mew. What am I doing here?"

She exhaled a sound halfway between a sigh and a chuckle, and let the shard slip from her fingers. It clinked against the ground, bouncing back toward the pile. Cynthia closed her eyes and leaned against the wall of the cavern, arms folded over her stomach. Anxiety gnawed at her in the form of unspent energy, flowing back and forth through her body.

It figured. Cynthia had never known what to do with herself when she wasn't needed. She wasn't one for rest or relaxation, much less when barely a day had passed since the world had come close to ending.

Dear Mew, had it really been only twenty hours or so? It all felt so far away, the wait between every moment and the next a small eternity by itself. They had survived. Cyrus had been stopped, Giratina had been held back, and yet… she couldn't breathe a sigh of relief, not yet. Something hard and unpleasant hung heavy in her heart, not letting her rest. Because she had to wait. Because she couldn't fix things further, she couldn't…

She couldn't do anything. Not until Lucian contacted her again.

She raised a hand to her face and rubbed her left temple, sighing. What else was there left to do? Inyssa, Barry, Metchi and everyone else… her Gym Leaders, the rest of her strike team, everyone was either recuperating in Jubilife's hospital or working hard to smooth things over with the populace after all that had happened. The sky shattering, the Distortion World bleeding into Mt. Coronet, and then that explosion of light caused by Darkrai and Cresselia… yes, questions would need to be answered. And until then…

Lay low until the situation clears, Lucian had told her. Depending on how the public takes the fact you've helped save the world, you may be able to avoid arrest yet. But until then…

A bitter chuckle left her lips. As if she deserved to be forgiven. It was very hopeful of Lucian to believe that the Association would still exist by the time the truth was announced. But he was right in that there was nothing for her to do but wait now. And so here she was. Home, yet very pointedly away from home.

She was tired to death of listening to a furious Carolina, telling her over and over how much of a failure she was for lending that ring to Riley, how it was all her fault, how she was the worst Lorekeeper to have ever existed, how she should have never…

She pursed her lips, shaking her head. Then there were the others, back at the hospital. She could have gone, could have… but no, she didn't feel like she deserved it, deep down. It was her fault, after all. That all of them had been forced to fight, to… take the burden when they could barely shoulder it… she remembered it well. The state Inyssa had been in when she came back from the Distortion World. Those horrible sobs, the way she shook like a leaf, pain and fear and horror carving lines across her face…

It wasn't the face of a hero who had returned triumphant, but that of a scared, traumatized kid. And she was responsible for that. She'd been the one to enlist her in this fight, promising all kinds of things she could never give her now.

Not after so much had been taken away.

Once again she looked back toward the pile of broken shards at the end of the cavern, and frowned. A thought began to form in her head, but she couldn't finish it, as she heard an unfamiliar set of steps echoing up the tunnel, getting closer. She snapped to look at the line of torches amidst the darkness, and saw a human figure emerging from within.

"Who…?"

Her question was answered before she could ask it. That sound of soft fabric waving in the air, that clinking of a dozen bracelets moving against each other, that gleam of piercing purple behind the woman's eyes… it was unmistakable. Adrenaline shot through Cynthia's body; she stood up suddenly, one hand balling into a fist, the other hovering close to her belt full of Pokeballs.

"…What are you doing here?"

The steps ceased, and for a moment there was only silence. Sanbica stared at her, the flames of the torches at either side of her casting dual shadows across the ground behind her.

"Would you believe me if I told you I came to apologize?"

Cynthia's tensed posture relaxed somewhat, but her hand did not move away from her belt. She scoffed derisively.

"I would much prefer an apology from Riley."

"Yes, well." Sanbica shrugged. "You know how it is."

She folded her arms, and said nothing more. Cynthia scrutinized her with her gaze for a while, but eventually just sighed and looked away, leaning against the wall once more.

"…If my grandmother knew you were here, you'd be hanging by sunset. You know that, yes?"

"You won't tell her."

It wasn't a question, but a fact. Cynthia was too exhausted to argue, so she just looked away and down toward the remains of the fresco. A spark of anger flickered inside her chest. Blood ran like tiny insects through her veins, itching, irritating, making her face and ears feel hot, her mind suddenly hazy.

"I don't need to. I could kill you myself," she said matter-of-factly. "In fact, I'm wondering why I haven't yet."

And she leered ever so slightly over her shoulder, a tuft of hair covering that eye. The air felt like it solidified, the temperature of the cave dropping a couple degrees. There was a shuffle of soles against rock, and a sudden but quiet inhalation as Sanbica tensed up. Aloofness was gone from her voice when she spoke again.

"I did not know Riley woul–"

"Do you think I care?"

The silence which followed that question was crushing. Sanbica's eyes widened, noticing as Cynthia's fingers edged ever closer to her Pokeballs. Every muscle in her body tensed up with sudden panic. Her face just then was that of someone who had badly overestimated her safety in the situation she was in. Cynthia realized this, and smiled.

"You and the rest of your Institute friends love to show up wherever you want, acting all coy and mysterious, playing with people's lives… always getting away scot free," Cynthia whispered. "You didn't think an escape plan would be necessary, I presume. But you caught me in a really bad day, Sanbica."

The sound of Sanbica swallowing traveled farther than it should have. "I-I…"

"Unlike you, I'll be blunt and direct. Your survival is up to you." She craned her head to the side slightly more, her grey eye finally visible past the tuft of blonde hair. "Give me a reason not to kill you. You have one chance."

The drip-drop of a distant vein of water falling on rock was the only sound in the cave for seconds that felt like minutes. The air was so tense it felt as though a single word would shatter it. Sanbica stared straight at Cynthia's eye, a bead of sweat running down her furrowed brow.

"…In what way are we different from you?" she finally said.

Cynthia blinked, her smile dropping. But it was quickly back the next second, lips parting for a snide chuckle. She turned around fully, hand unclasping a Pokeball in a quick, practiced gesture before raising it toward Sanbica.

"Was that really your best attempt?" she asked.

Sanbica returned the smile, lopsidedly. "No, that was just an observation. This is my reason."

Her multiple bracelets clinked and clicked as she raised her hands in front of her chest, palms forward. Cynthia frowned, confused for a moment. But then she saw it. There was something visibly lacking upon those pale hands. The black, dot-like markings that all Stigma possessed.

"I'm no longer a Stigma," Sanbica said, voice flat. "Is that enough of a reason?"

Cynthia's lips parted ever so slightly, eyes widening. "W…what?"

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

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

"I see… so that is how the Fourth met her demise. It truly is a shame."

A rich, deep woman's voice echoed across the tall walls and ceiling of the round chamber. Darkness seemed to permeate the room. The only sources of light were the web-like veins of chargestone etched across the aquamarine stone that made up the room, giving it an eerie, aquatic glow, which was quite appropriate, as the structure the room was part of resided deep within the ocean's depths.

Eight large, throne-like chairs made of the same dark bluish stone were arranged in a circle in the middle of the room, elevated slightly by the steps that lead up to them. Each seemed ancient, roughly carved, more the approximation of what a chair looked like than the actual thing. Yet people were sitting on them, four to be exact.

The first was the woman who'd just spoken, her posture perfect, unyielding, despite the rigidness of the stone she sat upon. Very little could be seen of her body, save for a long mane of ebon hair. To her right sat Riley, slumped against his chair, cheek squished by the palm it rested upon, one foot up on the seat itself. The seat to his right was empty, but the following one was occupied by a tall scarecrow of a man, his hands gripping the stone of the armrests with enough strength to turn the tip of his fingers a pale white. Very little could be seen of him; shadows seemed to fall upon him unnaturally, covering all but the piercing white of his eyes and the long coat of the same color.

Last of the four was a pale, smiling man wearing a pristine lab coat, his hair mostly blond and combed back, with the exception of a single blue strike going around his head. His eyes were wide and curious, enraptured by the conversation occurring.

"All that trouble she caused had to come back to bite her eventually, don't you think?" Riley said, eyeing the others. "I can't talk for everyone here, but the Wysteria experiments always seemed a bit too morbid for my taste, so I have a hard time admonishing our culprit here."

"I… agree to some extent," the Second said. "Regardless of the circumstances, I doubt retribution will be needed. We can all agree that Malva brought it upon herself, at the very least." She turned her head slightly to look at the blond man. "You should take care to avoid the same fate as her, Colress."

The man chuckled and unconsciously started fiddling with the buttons of the device around his wrist. "Your concern is appreciated. But if anything, this proves that our experiments were a startling success. The creation of an artificial singularity in human form–"

"Is dangerous," interrupted the Fifth, irritated. "We're not better than anyone else, no matter what that little dot on your palm'd make you believe. Human lives aren't something we can just toy with willy nilly."

There was a short silence, charged with meaning. Riley moved uncomfortably on his chair. The Second next to him cleared her throat, non-verbally agreeing, and Colress simply blinked toward the man at his side, expression unreadable.

"We will… simply have to disagree on that," he finally said. "Now, back to the topic of the Fourth… her death does, unfortunately, represent a significant loss in terms of brute power."

"I say good riddance," the Fifth grumbled. "I still think it was idiotic to have someone like her with us."

"Regardless, Colress does raise a good point," the Second addressed him. "In terms of replacement, you could help us find the right pers–"

"That will not be necessary."

He was absent one moment and there the next, like a shadow rising from the dark stone in the middle of the room. More a shape than a man, body obscured, and eyes a burning gold. He stood with his arms folded behind him, studying all present, who'd gone silent at his appearance.

"…Was the First busy?"

The Second was the first to speak. "Yes… he is currently dealing with an unforeseen issue in Sootopolis."

"I see. I shall brief him later, then." He turned to look at every one of them, silent for a moment. "Now, this new vessel is taking me longer to… get used to… than usual. We shall make this quick.

"Replacing Malva is not an immediate priority. The role of the Fourth was always that of pure, destructive offense, and as such was the least essential of all eight. Malva did well, as did all who bore the title before her, but we are past the point of needing her."

There was a short, taciturn silence of agreement as the four Stigma looked amidst each other. The Second was the one to break it.

"What about the Seventh and Eight?" She shot Riley an accusatory glance as she said that. "Considering the circumstances…"

"Sanbica is wise beyond her years, and understands more than any of us here what is at stake. When the time comes, I guarantee she will aid our cause." His words were like stone. There was no room for discussion. "As for the reason behind her absence, and the loss of the Eight Stigma…"

Riley had, throughout his life, made an art of playing it cool, yet when Alberich's eyes fell on him, he had a real hard time keeping up that particular mask.

"…I believe I made myself perfectly clear when I discouraged the idea of destroying singularities, as opposed to containing them."

Riley opened his mouth, trying to find the words, but it was surprisingly the Fifth who came to his aid.

"I stand fully behind his decision. I would've done the same if I'd been in his place, and I'm sure everyone else would've too." He looked straight at Alberich. "I know I was the one to suggest it first, I know I'm biased, but you can't deny it was a perfect opportunity. You can't blame him for acting."

Alberich stood silent, considering those words. His gaze lowered to the ground, eyes narrowing.

"I have to agree," the Second said with a sigh. "Though I may be biased as well."

"Mhm. It was an… unprecedentedly tempting situation," Alberich admitted. "And had he succeeded, he would have rid the world not only of the lake siblings and the lunar duo, but also prevent any future attempts to seize the power of Dialga and Palkia. Removing so many powerful pieces from the board… it would have significantly tipped the scales in our favor."

Riley shrugged. "Hey, two out of six isn't bad."

"The lunar duo is not completely gone," the Second told him. "Though it would be difficult for their power to be harnessed any time soon."

There was a moment of silence amidst the stone chamber. Alberich remained pensive, curling and uncurling the fingers of his hands hidden behind him. Judging by the way he opened and closed his mouth, it looked like he was having a conversation with himself.

"…Granted. We will let this incident slide," he said. "But none of you are to attempt to destroy another singularity unless explicitly ordered to."

It was almost imperceptible, but there was a slight tension all over Riley's body that dissipated at hearing those words. As though an invisible weight had been released from him.

"…Got it, boss."

"Psh, not like he could even if he wanted to," the Fifth scoffed. "That sword ain't around no more. And the only other one who can make a weapon from a soul is that woman in control of Azelf."

"Yeah, she's a weird one," said Riley. "I only got a single look at her, but Sanbica told me she might be trouble in the future."

"All in due time," the Second said. "We have too much to worry over to focus our attention on Azelf's chosen one."

Colress, who until now had been typing away at the device on his arm, perked up and smiled as he heard that.

"Still, the idea of a weapon capable of destroying singularities… a blade formed from a soul, was it? My mind is racing thinking of ways to replicate one!" His smile dropp,ed however, as soon as the Second glared at him. "Though… maybe another time. I should be heading up toward Alola soon, and I'm sure you all have places to be, too. Well, most of you, at least."

And he shoot the man beside him a smiling glance. All he got in return was a growl.

"If I'd known what Cynthia was planning, I'd have gone to Sinnoh with Riley and Sanbica," he muttered angrily. "If I coulda gotten my hands on that Azure Flute…"

"Then we'd all be dead," the Second said sternly. "Its use was instrumental in stopping Giratina's advance." She sighed. "I understand your anger, and I share it in full, you know that. But our grudge is insignificant when compared to our ultimate goal."

"Psh… still. If I'd been in the same room as that bastard–"

"You will obtain retribution in time. This, I promise you."

Alberich's voice filled the room entirely, its weight attracting all eyes toward him and extinguishing all other noises. Not even the ebb and flow of the waves outside could be heard anymore. He took a step forward into the light of one of the chargestone veins. It fell across his body diagonally, illuminating a young man's face with golden eyes old as the stone of the ruins around him. It would've been hard to describe those eyes as human or non-human. They were something else, something warped by time.

He raised his hand slowly to the side, fingers spread, and spoke.

"Regardless of your reasons for being here, for assisting in our goal, we are as one. Not as individuals banding together, but as different parts of a single, complex system," he declared. "During my final days, long after Nyss stole Uxie from me, I despaired for the future humanity might bring. Yet as I persisted beyond all known laws of life, I found my fears to be unfounded. Time and time again, the people of this era have banded together to combat those who would attempt to twist causality by amassing the power of gods for themselves.

"Yet danger remains, and our greatest trial lies in the wings, waiting. The world may have escaped oblivion, but those who would inherit this new future must now face the consequences of the sacrifices made to obtain it.

"Sanbica may be right. Perhaps our actions will only twist causality further, but against divine shackles binding us, what more could be done? Our only option is to rid ourselves of the cause of these temptations."

His extended hand lowered, and his voice became quieter, almost a whisper.

"The great coalescence approaches, and all who hold a sliver of divinity will soon become but flames in the broken crucible. When that time comes, all of our pieces must be in place." He looked at every one of his Stigma, stopping on the Fifth. "Six years. That is all the time we have."

Everyone's eyes shot wide open, and the Second and Fifth shot up in their chairs, hands gripping the stone. Riley's body stiffened in surprise, and even Colress looked up from his device, a glint of curiosity in his eyes.

"S-six years?" muttered the Second. "I thought… s-so soon? Surely that'll only be enough for containing it, and not…"

"I know what I said."

That silenced the room fast. Alberich narrowed his eyes, and glanced toward the man bearing the title of Fifth Stigma.

"I said retribution would be within your grasp, and I am a man of my word."

"I… but… are we…?" For the first time, the man's eyes widened with something other than anger. Eagerness. "In six years, are we really gonna…?"

Alberich's lips quirked up, forming something thousands of years older than a smile. The primal glint of gold behind his eyes flashed with a spark.

"Yes. Every single singularity and shard born of the Original One's body… we'll rid ourselves of them all."

He extended both hands outwards, and his voice filled the entirety of the room as he made his declaration.

"The First may not be present, but there is no better time. I now declare the start of the final phase of our plan." His lips parted ever so slightly, showing teeth. "Let us take humanity's fate back, dear though the cost may be."

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

Cynthia swiveled from one foot to the other, shifting her weight as she looked aghast at Sanbica. The silence that followed the girl's explanation weighed on her. For almost a minute, she was unable to find her words.

"That's… absurd. That can't be what await us, it's…"

Sanbica smiled, eyes closed. "What do you think we've been trying to prevent for so long?"

"I-I…" Cynthia swallowed hard, feeling a bead of sweat drop down her forehead. "Then… why did you leave the Institute?"

"I never said I left them, just that I am no longer a Stigma." She raised her palm again, drawing attention to the lack of a mark. "I am still part of this, whether I want to or not. I'm simply choosing to act on my own, parallel to the Institute, for the foreseeable future."

Sanbica hid her hand inside the long, silky sleeve of her dress, the clanking of bracelets echoing off the cave walls. She hung her head and sighed, exhausted.

"Recent events have hinted that maybe in our attempt to prevent this calamity, we might have only accelerated it further," she said. "Your actions and Riley's have shown me this. I'm no longer acting careless."

Cynthia swallowed. "All I… all that other version of me did was change a few small events."

"You say that only because you didn't see what she saw," Sanbica frowned. "The flow of causality is not something to mess with. There are rules and restrictions in place to how humans can affect it, but the more power one amasses, the less binding those become. Nyss and that other version of yourself are proof of how dangerous that can be."

All of a sudden Cynthia felt dizzy, and had to step back and lean against the wall of the cavern, taking a few quick breaths. To think she'd almost been in that spot… the power of a god cursing through her veins, all of causality flowing around her, like threads for her to sew…

She hadn't seen for herself what the other Cynthia had, but deep down she had an inkling. From so high above, she could see the shackles that kept fate from unraveling. The chains that had bled out from the Original One's body as it was split into numerous shards, all intent on looking over its creations. And how those shards had been sought after, time and time again, by the youngest and most dangerous of all its children; humans.

"Is that why it's happened so many times before?" she finally asked. "In Hoenn and Kalos and Unova… and now here. All those who went after the legendary Pokemon…"

Sanbica nodded. "It's become much more frequent. The two halves are starting to pull toward one another, like shards of a magnet. And it won't be long before all its pieces seek to reform once more. Your original plan of giving yourself up in order to stoke the flame of humanity's Spirit would've only accelerated the process further. I think this is partly why Riley did what he did, to force your hand and make you use the Azure Flute for another purpose."

"And… you knew all of this. You and Riley and… the man you answer to. And because you're the Seventh Stigma…"

"Alberich –though he had a different name back then– became aware about two thousand years ago, through the help of my predecessor. But her farsight was limited by time, and thus her prophecy was little more than a warning. Alberich would have to wait another millennia for the next human to be blessed by Jirachi's gift. Their words would finally spurn Alberich to action, and it was then that he found and took over the Abyssal Ruins, created the Institute, and recruited my latest predecessor as a Stigma.

"And so began the thousand-year old plan, the great chains of blood and iron that would beguile and ensnare the radiance of gods." Sanbica gently raised a hand and pressed it on her chest. "It was only with the coming of the third prophet, a child of both Jirachi and a Stigma, that the final stage of this plan would become clear."

Cynthia nodded slowly. "…That's you. Does that mean you foresaw this? What is it that you saw?"

Sanbica was still for a moment, eyes closed, fingers pressed against her chest. Her brows were furrowed in concentration. As though she were trying to call on to something deep inside her.

"I was but a child when a powerful presence took over me, and I uttered these words. I never forgot them, as with every other prophecy I've spoken. I recanted them to Alberich when the time came, and I will do so again now… in hope that this knowledge may set someone of your dangerous nature on the right path, for once."

And it was with those last words that Sanbica opened her eyes, and the pressure in the cavern seemed to increase tenfold. Cynthia felt her breathing hitch. There was a vacuum of sound, one only broken by her echoing voice.

"Amidst ash and spark, the fire of the broken crucible alights once more.

"The hands of time weave through the twelve houses, spanning a thread of grim causality.

"First, the sacrifice of the broken king and the blossom of death's flower.

"Second, the grief of the ashen warrior and the creation of the eternal beacon.

"Third, the displacement of the child and the twin, and the formation of the land of the gods.

"Fourth, the separation of the great dragon, and the sinking of its frozen husk.

"Fifth, the betrayal of the buried city and the wings that deliver the child of light.

"Sixth, the defilement of the peaceful town, and a promise kept with final breath.

"Seventh, the rousing of the titans of earth and sea, and the sacrifice of the three vessels' awakener

"Eight, the opening of the great rifts and the return of the tower's queen.

"Ninth, the coronation of the verdant king and the clash between ebon and stark.

"Tenth, the burning of the moonless night, and the sealing of the world beyond.

"Eleventh, the rise of the children of steel, and the retaking of the ancient vessels.

"Twelfth, the gamble of light and ash, and the stoking of the final flame.

"Once the spark is lit and the blood of dragons flow, the primal shards will clash and melt into each other, reforming what was once whole.

"The eternal chains shatter, and the hands of time hover ever closer, only seconds away from midnight."

Sanbica's voice trailed off, and with it the lead-heavy atmosphere it'd brought. The air of the cavern almost felt too thin as she opened her eyes again. Cynthia felt like she had trouble breathing. Though that was more likely due to the state of total enrapture she was in.

She replayed every sentence in her mind almost unconsciously, each connection lighting up like a flare and mixing together into a web-like cacophony of panicked and excited thoughts. Her lorekeeper brain worked at full capacity, and before she'd taken five breaths the majority of the prophecy had become clear to her.

I… know almost all of these, she thought, awed and horrified at the same time. Only the third, fifth and eight are unfamiliar. And the last two…

"What happened here in Sinnoh… the moonless night, we… are the tenth hand of the clock, aren't we?"

Sanbica needed a moment to reply. Her recanting of those words seemed to take the wind out of her. "And so, we've moved yet an hour closer to midnight."

Neither of them said anything for seconds that stretched into what felt like minutes. Cynthia unconsciously hugged herself and looked toward the broken fresco behind her, what had once been the barest glimpse into an uncertain future. A beacon that had always guided her.

This was on an entirely different level, however. Cynthia felt… small, all of a sudden. Powerless. Had she really wasted so much time on her own hubristic musings, when all along…?

"Don't overthink it."

She looked surprised at Sanbica, whose lips had managed to quirk up in the shape of a smile.

"I can guarantee that at least a couple of those events didn't pan out like they were meant to," she said. "Hoenn's Champion is still alive, isn't he?"

Cynthia's eyes widened. "T-that's right. The prophecy said 'sacrifice', but he somehow managed to escape that fate."

"I'm not sure how it happened, but it's proof of what I've been saying all along. The closer we get, the narrower my focus becomes and the more likely these events are to occur, but nothing is certain. Fate is never set in stone." She narrowed her eyes, looking deadly serious. "It's the difference between thinking reality is something happening to you and instead knowing you're creating it with every thought and action. It's the difference between you, who believed her destiny was certain, and Metchi, who knew no game is lost until the very last second."

A determined look on her face, Sanbica took a step toward Cynthia and extended her hand toward her. The ex-Champion looked down at it, and blinked.

"The reason I'm telling you this is not so that you can help me or the Institute, or even play a part in these events." She smiled, then said. "I guess I just want you to do your job for once and be the lorekeeper Sinnoh needs. Look after your people, and protect them from the temptation of higher powers they have no hope of controlling. And most importantly, keep a close eye on those three, and make sure they're ready for what's to come. It should be easy enough for a woman of your talents. You've learned from your mistakes once already, right? That's more than most people can boast about.

"So… what do you say?"

Cynthia hung her head, and smiled amusedly. A challenge, was it? It was a nice way of transforming the anxiety and unease inside her chest into excitement, that which had always fueled her. She'd already reached the peak of trainership, after all. It was time to find what lay beyond.

She stretched her hand out and grasped Sanbica's, looking up at her eyes. A bead of sweat ran down her cheek, and her fingers shook against the girl's, but she kept her smile up nonetheless.

"As long as it keeps my people safe and gets me closer to getting payback on Riley… I guess I have no complaints."