“Pranav!”
His brother’s face was smeared in flakey soot, no, blood. Panic, a flood of Pran’s final moments flashed in his mind as he ran forward, checking him over for wounds.
He looked sick. His face was gaunt, hollow cheeks and sunken eyes showed signs of exhaustion, did he get into a fight?
“The fuck happened to you?” Arun demanded.
“Yo, chill, get your hands off me.” The ungrateful shit complained, “It’s not my blood.”
“That doesn’t make it better!”
“Look.” Pran said, gesturing to himself, “I’m good, see? I took care of that Kleavor.”
It was…it was true. His uniform wasn’t torn, aside from the blood and the wrinkles that blemished the material, there was nothing wrong with him. Arun stepped back, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
Then he smacked Pran upside the head.
“Dude!” Pran grimaced, rubbing the spot he'd just been slapped, “The hell was that for?”
“Look at yourself and ask me that again.” Arun growled, “You look like you went ahead and died, again. What is this then, who’s blood is that?”
His brother’s face fell for a moment, before he said, “...Remi.”
Oh. Oh no.
“Kleavor?”
Pran slid a knife out a belt Arun didn’t even know he wore, revealing the stained blade to him, “No.”
Murdered. Pranav had killed again.
“I uh. I know you said you wanted a fresh start. That it’s a new world, it had to be a better one. But you have to understand Arun, I had no choice. If I didn’t…if I didn’t then he’d have had us both killed, or worse.”
“...Alright.”
His brother’s eyes were filled with relief as he looked at Arun. “Alright? You’re not…?”
“No, I’m not upset.” Arun sighed, running a hand through his hair, “You wouldn’t do something like this for no reason. I should have been there. Maybe together we could have found something better.”
Too many mistakes. He’d gotten separated from Pranav at the wrong time, and now his brother was forced to relive their shitstorm of their old world.
“I’m not innocent in this either, Pran. When Hazel was asking his questions…I considered it.”
“What? Really?”
“I want us to be…normal. As normal as we can be in this world. But that’s always been secondary.” Arun said, pushing a fist into his brother’s chest. “We've experienced enough of the world to know that if we don't take care of us, nobody else will. It’s us first, Pran. Always has been, always will be. Alright?”
At Pranv’s nod, Arun continued, “So what happened? How do we explain this to Cyrus?”
That seemed to trigger a reminder as his brother's eyes went wide, “Shit! I forgot!”
“What? What happened?”
“How much time do we have until the others awake?” Pranav asked the room.
“THEY DREAM FOR AN HOUR MORE.” It replied.
“Are you cool with Valor staying behind? In case they wake up early, he can remain inside.”
Sirius looked to his friend, who nodded in confirmation. Valor looked a little torn between following his partner and wanting to continue watching the dreams, but a wave of comfort sent his way had the Pokémon feel better about the decision.
“Alright.” Arun said, “What are we doing?”
“I need to show you something. Quickly.”
“Sure, wh-whoah!”
Arun stumbled when Pranav grabbed him, their whole world shifting as his eyes took the time to register they no longer remained within the Dream Wing. Instead they stood in what looked like an office, a large monitor lying inert until his brother shook it awake.
“What the fuck just happened?” Arun said, blinking the vertigo away.
“I swear to you I’m going to explain everything.” Pran said, “But right now I need you to just listen to me for a minute.”
“What is this?” Arun asked, staring at the screen.
“Red Chains.” His brother whispered, “Do those sound familiar to you?”
Of course they did. He’d played through Sinnoh’s campaign multiple times, the chains forged by Azelf, Mesprit, and Uxie. Arun did sometimes wonder where the actual technology came from, was Galactic just good at that sort of–
Wait.
“Are you telling me that…?”
“Documents on the Red Chain, yea. The important bits, the blueprints, are in another room. But this is why I was away from you for so long.”
“You cut a deal?”
“Yeah. Fat load of good that did.” Pranav muttered.
“Okay…so you were looking for the blueprints, as well as a way to extract this info?”
“Yeah, but we found the blueprints…there’s just another problem.”
Another teleport, this time they were outside a hall. His brother was staring it down with nervous eyes, before nodding to himself and motioning for Arun to follow. Inside was dark, but already he could smell the iron tang of blood in the air, and after a brief moment, saw the dark splotches that stained the dead room.
“Behind that window.” Pranav said, pointing towards the shutters, “Is Giratina.”
Arun stopped in his tracks, blinking slowly as he processed the information. “What?”
“Behind that window.” Pranav said again, “Is–”
“I heard you. What the fuck? How? Why is it there?”
“There’s like a...a control panel or something around here. We need it to power the room and access the blueprints, but that opens the shutters.”
“And why is that bad?” Arun asked, “Is it the distortion realm out there? Giratina isn’t supposed to be evil, why would it hate us.”
“Because it knows us.” Pranav whispered, his tone causing Arun’s fear to spike just a tad.
“What the fuck do you mean, ‘it knows us’!?”
“It’s the reason the Unown were so irregular. Why so many attacked us at the start, why we had to deal with Kleavor. This place Arun, it was built by our people, Earth people.”
Pranav told him everything. What he learned in Ivan’s office. The damning of the world, the birth of a new god, the purpose of the red chains, the betrayal within the facility, a war long lost. It was a messy explanation, filled with holes that existed because the ones who built their reality were long gone. By the time Pranav was done, Arun was pacing through the room back and forth.
“How did we end up here then?” He asked, “Why are we here?”
“I don’t know.” Pranav shrugged, “Maybe Ivan did something, maybe he didn’t.”
“Are we the only ones here?”
“I couldn’t say. But that’s not what’s important right now. The Red Chains. How do we get them?”
Arun shot his brother an incredulous look, “Are you for real?” He hissed, grabbing his arm, “We’re leaving, this is out of our league. Way out of our fucking league. Getting recognition is nice, but this is fucking insane! We should just get those videos you mentioned, and find an excuse for Remi’s death.”
“No, no you don’t get it!” Pranav argued, wrenching his arm free, “Cyrus is going to be here! He’s going to be here and he’ll find the chains for himself!”
“He’s supposed to! He captures Dialga and Palkia! This will be fine!”
“Not like this, Arun. I don’t know how he gets them, but it can’t be like this. Do you think Cyrus knows about Giratina? What will he do if he finds it here?”
“If. if he even finds this room. But what if he was supposed to find this room, hm? Giratina is supposed to be a god, it can find its own way out.”
“That’s the risk you want to take!?” Pranav exploded, gesturing wildly around the room, “You want to risk this, the chance that someone who we know wants to make a new universe, get his hands on that? This isn’t the game, Arun! It’s the world trying to recreate it, and if we do nothing we’ll be squashed like the fucking parasites the world thinks we are!”
Arun stopped the retort on his lips, reeling back his anger at Pranav’s haste. His brother’s eyes were alight with the flames of ambition, of desire. Whereas before there would be fear to temper his motives, it was nowhere to be seen, only foolish desire remained.
This was too dangerous, too stupid. So what if Cyrus found Giratina? Would a god really allow itself to be captured? The red chains needed the Lake Trio in order to fully operate, so as soon as they left the facility wouldn’t the Pokémon be able to break free?
“I won’t hear anymore of this.” Arun said, shaking his head as he stepped closer to Pran, “And I won’t help you with this. You’re my brother Pran, I love you. But I lost you man. Please, just please slow down, and think about this. I just got you back, and it feels like the first thing you want to do is run back into danger, into death.”
Pranav was silent for a moment, the light in his eyes fading as they widened in surprise. For a moment, for just a moment, he thought he’d convinced his brother.
But of course...this was Pran.
“Do you think they screamed?” Pranav asked.
“What?”
“Our parents. Dad and Ma. Do you think they screamed when they died?”
“Stop.” Arun said, he didn’t want to think about them right now, there was too much going on to think about the past.
But of course Pran wouldn’t listen, “I think they did.” He said instead, his features hidden in the darkness, “I don’t think the blast hit them directly. Sometimes I have nightmares, I hear them scream, I see them burn. You ever see that one video on nukes? How they go through a step by step process of what happens?”
“Pranav.” Arun growled in warning “I said stop.”
“The flesh burns, peels away, then the muscles, organs and bones and all. How much of that are they alive for? Enough to feel pain, absolutely.”
Arun grabbed Pran by the hem of his uniform, slamming him against the desk so hard he grunted in pain. Yet still he continued, “What about our sisters, hm? Their ship was gunned down. It wasn’t an easy death. They drowned. Can you see it, Arun? Can you see them gasping for air? Fighting for their lives? Can you see them clawing at the water as their faces turn blue and water fills thei-”
“I SAID ENOUGH!” Arun howled, throwing Pranav onto the floor. “SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
It was too much, why now? Did Pranav not see how he’d grieved? How much of a failure he’d felt? How useless his entire being felt when he found out he was powerless to stop them all from passing? He was the eldest son, the first born, it was his duty to protect his siblings, his purpose. And he’d failed. He’d failed his parents, he’d failed his sisters, he’d failed Pranav.
“That…that’s…it…hah.” Pranav gasped, struggling to stand, “Be…mad. Get angry. Why did we have to suffer, huh? Why did we pay the price–”
Pranav smashed his foot into a nearby chair, sending it crashing to the floor, “FOR THESE SELFISH PRICKS! Ask yourself! Was it us who dug up a fucking god? Was it us that killed it? NO! No, it was them!”
“LOOK AT THEM!” He continued, spinning in a slow circle with his arms wide, “Look at what they’ve built after slaughtering humanity! A temple of greed! A fucking altar to their own goddamn egos! We didn’t have a choice! We didn’t get a say! And it’s happening again Arun, but with Cyrus!”
A…choice? What was he…?
“This…this isn’t about Cyrus getting Giratina.” Arun realized, his eyes widening, “This is about power.”
“And who gets to wield it!” Pranav hissed, grasping the air with his fist, “For all of our miserable fucking lives we’ve been pawns in a game we did not understand, and look at where that got us! But here? Arun, we can be the ones in charge. We can have all the power we want, enough so that nobody can take away our choice again.”
He pointed out to the shutters again, “So make the choice Arun, please. You know I’ll follow you. Choose power, choose strength. If not for me, then for everybody who died because we didn’t matter enough to those who had it.”
Make a choice…huh. He hated the sound of it, to choose power. It felt wrong, evil, almost. A gut feeling that told him that if he went down this path, his fate would mirror the ones who’d put him here in the first place.
But…he was tired. Tired of feeling like he was chasing after the world, picking himself up and doing his best not to be left behind. Tired of dealing with consequences that he never should have been his to deal with in the first place. To be someone in control…to be someone who could control the flow of the world…it was enticing, more than he’d care to admit.
“And if we fail?” Arun asked, “If we die?”
Pranav reached his hand out to Arun, “Then we die. But we die with our choice.”
Arun let out an explosive sigh, before clasping his hand, “I will be there to catch you, if we fail.” He promised.
“And I will be there to lift you up, when we fly.” Pranav grinned back.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Are you ready?” Arun asked, licking his lips in nervousness as he glanced at the shutters.
“Always.” His brother replied, mirroring the same tense energy. “Remember, you have to imagine Giratina, otherwise it…overwhelms you.”
Arun had an inkling of what that meant. He imagined it similar to the raw anger of the Pokémon he’d felt before, how it affected him, turning thoughts that weren’t his into his own. He hoped it wouldn’t be similar, Arun was quite tired of this place messing with his head.
They’d scoured the room for anything and everything they could use, but with the technology all lying inert, and turning power on only resulting in opening the shutters, they couldn’t find anything to use to their advantage.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
So Pranav tried to teleport, looking and scouring rooms he’d previously searched, only to return moments later. When Arun asked why, there was fear in Pranav's eyes as he answered.
“Galactic is here.”
Whatever Cyrus was doing was working, they’d already covered a lot of ground. Pranav had told him that he’d seen the main fighting happening through the center, a slow, but gradual push made up of Galactic’s best as the other Grunts were put to work on securing the outer wings.
So out of time and out of options they’d defaulted to the only thing they could do. Negotiate.
“Aken.” Pranav said, “You okay?”
The sound of a dying whisper was all Arun could hear, but he could feel the emotion rolling off the Pokémon from underneath his hiding spot. They’d hoped that lack of sight would stop Aken from being frozen in place, so that the Pokémon could draw out their fear (Which was something he could do, apparently).
Pranav himself was similarly positioned behind a desk, eyes focused completely upon the inert computer in front of him while Arun was left kneeling by the power grid, his hand over the switch as he waited to begin. Pranav had wanted to pull the switch originally, but a stern look had him sit down, readying himself.
“What can we offer?” Arun asked, he already knew the answer, but it would be good to keep Pran’s mind working.
“Freedom, obviously, a way out if we learn.” Pran replied, “And knowledge. It has memories of the game, if its still confused maybe we can make sense of them.”
“And in return?”
“Blueprints to the red chains, if I can’t get them myself. But the big thing is for it to leave us alone and not try to kill us the second it’s free. And I guess we can ask for power, maybe.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
They both sat there for another minute, only the sound of their breathing filling the chamber.
“I think I’m ready.” Pranav finally said. “Do it.”
Arun nodded, and pulled.
He felt its presence immediately.
Arun didn’t know what a god would feel like. He imagined power, but what was power as a feeling? He knew of people in the Before who were zealous in their religions, who prayed with tears in their eyes and belief in their hearts. After the bombs, on some occasions when things got particularly rough, he swore he could feel the power of something watching over him, though, maybe it was just his mind trying to help him cope with stress. But that power was subtle, gentle, protective.
This…this was the power of a conqueror. A rage filled tyrant who’d been bound for over a thousand years.
“FOCUS!” He heard Pranav shout, “Imagine Giratina! You have to imagine it!”
Giratina…that? No, impossible. What he saw wasn’t a Pokémon, it was an idea, a concept. He saw the collapse of a star, its mass forming into a massive black hole. He saw the screams of a billion damned souls. He saw the end of the universe itself, pulled apart at the seams and unable to hold itself together.
Everything was born to die eventually, why was he fighting so hard?”
“Whatever you’re seeing right now is not real!” He could hear his brother shout, “Picture it! The wings, the centipede body!”
The image of Giratina flashed in his mind, and he almost wanted to laugh. How could he attribute something physical to that? He wasn't gazing at a creature, he was looking at the end of the universe itself. Still, he felt just the tiniest amount of fear slip away from him, enough to think, enough to rationalise.
And he saw it.
He saw Giratina’s wings, made of bone and flayed muscle, stretch across the vast expanse of void. He saw its long serpentine body, riddled with the scars of a thousand battles as grey flesh bubbled and burned under the light of the red chains. Its neck and face were adorned in gold, a crown forged under the eyes of the stars themselves.
“Holy shit.” Arun breathed, “It’s Giratina…it’s actuall–”
Its maw opened, and what crawled out was a contradiction of sound. It was the harmonious choir, the screams of madmen, it was the lullaby of a mother and the pleading of the dead. it was everything good and everything bad at once.
“I can’t…” Pranav winced, searching for something, “I can’t understand it!”
Arun could. Under the melody of emotion that threatened to wash away everything Arun understood, there was one emotion that stood out from the rest, hate.
T̷͚̺̪̪̦̺̫̯̝̠̦̘̦̹͎̭͙̈́̍̅͑̌̽̅͊͛̇͛̔͋̈́̂̆̀̓͒̑̾̕͠Ḧ̵̢̢͎̯͎̺͔͕͎͇̼͍̫̱̣̯̺̟̲́̾̄̋͗̊͆̈́̽̀̋͜ͅͅE̵̡̡̨̢̧̛̮̟͈̜̖̻̹̪̼̣̼͇̪̮͉̔̐͌̉̀̓ ̵̡̛̜͈͈̮̖͖͕̣̅̉̿̽̔͑̈́̒̋͆͒͝͠͝K̵̡̝͒̂́͑̐̓͝͝Ị̷̩̫̱̯̻͍̳̪̮̼̭̔̓̀̈̈̈̀̄͐̅̆́̀̕̚̕͜͝Ḷ̵̨̨̤̞̯̺̦̲̮̠̆͐̃͋́̐̅̈́͒̊̋͘̚͜͠͠͠ͅL̴̨̨̢̩͚͚̳͈͖̦̰̜̠̳͕̞̟̮͓͆͂̃͛̒̒͂̂̔̇̈́̚̕̕̕̚͜͝͠Ẹ̸̢̹͉͓͆̌̉̎́͆̎̊́̂́̽̎͋͆̀̏͝͝R̸̡̢̧̼͈̤̠̙̺̻̹̲͙͉̞̮̹̙̰̫̯̭̀̆͊ͅS̷̨̜̜̤̣͇͔͈̯͉͍͚̱̟͒̌̊̈̿͘͝ͅ ̷̧̨̛̠̹͈͎͙͕̞̮͍̤̹͖̮̦͍͇̪͍̆̒͐̌̈́͛͝ͅȂ̶͎̀̐͗̓̈͂̽̇͐͌͑͗͒̌͗̊̐̅̈̽N̶̢̧̛̫͇̖̹̟̞̥̥̺̪̙̠̉̍̒͆̓̀̿̍̃̾̾̓̒̊͗͛̋͘͠D̸̛̫̗͚̼̘̦͈̳͖͙̫̪̪̮̟͕̥̖̫̤̻̄̏́͌̑̃̊̉́̀͘͜ ̷͙͉͊͒̅̑̓̈̂̆̋̇͂͑̾͂͐̅͘͠͝͝T̷͕̰̮͚͚̞͇̳̪̹͓͔̯̍̈́́̆̂͆̂͒͠H̸̛̘͔̰̰̼͈̱͓̲̲̟̾̀̂̆̈͗͂̓̌͗͂́̔͑͛̍̈̂̐̈́͘͘ͅE̴̢̖̝̮̼͇̫̟̞̣̲͈̹͍͇̳̬̰͉͐̄̌̍̍͋̃͆̏͗͑̆̌͌̈́̌͝I̵̢̖̼̱̮̫̘̼͚̲̺̱̥̅͆̓̈́̊̋̈́̈́͐̋͂͋́̀̌̚̕ͅV̵̢͓͍̙̤̝̮̭̦̥̖̞̻͉̯̮̝͊́̄̈́̿̈́̃͋̀̈́̈́̿̔̅̾͑̏͛̚͜͠͝ͅͅḚ̴̢̛̱͚͓̖̹̤͙͖̬̟̻̐̋̄̓͒̍̽̌̍̾́̅́͜͝S̶̤̖̳̈́̋͌̓̆̀̑̑͋́́͒̓̓̕ ̷̯̗̭̲͈͚̙͓̼͓͖̠̦͚̤̅̾̾̎̑̓̄̽̈́̓͊̔͒̿̒̍̀̇̈́͑͘̕͝R̵̢͔̥̯̹̭͎͕͖̙̫̖̻̙͎̒̉̂̄͝Ḙ̸͕͎̼̠͒́̔͒̄̽͋̓̀̆̇̌̇̏̏͊͘͘͘̕̕͘͠T̵̡̧̹̱̲͇̣͖̫̽͒̅̎̓͂͑̓͗̍̆͆͂̽͊U̵̢͖͓̟͔̗̯̯͕̘̳̩̖̺̹̭̯̹͙͉̥̿͑̌̈͗̂̀̕̚͜͜͝͝R̸̯̤̼̖̀́̈́̋̐͂̽̔̾͗̓̅͂͒̆̃̌̏̚̕͝͝N̴̮̖͇͇̭̖͛͊͒͒̋͌̍͐͑̆
̸͖̩̫̲͚̜̮̦͚͈͇̆̓̅͊̎̑̉͊́̚͜
̷̧̧̝͚̼͖̩̹̩̹͍͓͖̥͇̤̎͘͜Ẃ̸͉̑̄͠H̶̡̛̥̞̟̼̙̖͈̲͈̎̃͊̍̀̂̊̃́̽͂͘͜͝Y̶̢̛̖͉̪̪͇͚̫̱͆̈́͛̓̈́̆͆̉̓̂̃̀̑̈́́͌̽̀̃͋̍̉?̸̢͙͚͙̰̜͙͉̻͚̙̲͖̜̫̣͖͊̃̾̀͘͝͝ͅ
“You get that!?” Arun managed to shout over the cackling that still filled the chamber.
“It's asking why we’re here!” Pranav yelled back, “We want to make a deal! Show it that!”
Arun concentrated, he needed…he needed an emotion, one that could translate his thoughts into an actual conversation. But he could barely think, even with Aken doing his best to stave off some of the fear, it felt as if the Pokémon was attempting to bail out a sinking ship.
Fear. It was his only natural response. To make a deal.
Giratina’s focus shifted, and he barely stopped the whimper that escaped his lips. He was nothing, a candlefire that sat next to an inferno.
P̷͇͖̦͈̘͔̲̝̦̠͔̣̺͕͋̽̓̌͊̇̈́̚A̴̢̛̠̞͚͙̩̦̞͕̝̣̘͖͇͛̏̉̎̽̏̑̒͝Ṛ̷̺̗̞͇͇͔̲͉̈́́̇̈Ą̴͈͖̞̺̲̮͎̊͂̾́́͂́͐̊ͅS̶̛̰̬͆̈ͅI̴̢̨̹͓̯͇̻̜̥̜͙̤̙͖̐̄̒́͊̏̉͋̊͘̕͜T̷̳͙̝̰̊͛͒̉̈́̊͘͜͝Ę̶̬͎͖͇́̎̐̈̑̊̌͒̐̔̉̀̒͛̕ ̵̨͎͚̹̮̖̩̙͎̬̭̥̈́̊̍̓͒̈̊̒͑́͘͠ ̴̗͚͆̅̒̀̏͊͐̓̽
̶̨̨̨̡̱̘̠̻̋̌̐ͅͅȂ̵̡͍̠̼̘͇̩̞̩̪͕̟͕̍̽̏̅̏̃̾͘͘R̶̤͋̏̎̃͂͗̈́̐R̷̮̯͕͚̽̏̏̔̅̚O̶̢͎͓̱͔͇͍̤͙̝͎̹̐͑̚G̷͕͈̩͈̣̦͎͙͈̘͊̊̒͗̃̒͝A̸̹͓̮͓̺̅̓͗̓̽̿̈̒̈́̊͘͜͝N̷̡̬͂͂̉̈́̇̔̅͆̅͆̈́̕͝T̷͚͙̉̊̀̍̀̃͒̈͑̊̀͆̈́́̕ ̸̖̍͆̈́͂̅͋F̷̢̘͉̣̤͉͌͐́͛͊͛Ö̶̧̼̦̳̙͕̯̜̬́̈́̇̋̄͛̄̉́̎̽̿͝͠Ò̷̞͘͜Ḷ̸̨̖͚̜̬̪̜̠͓̉͆͋̉̿͒͝
Images flashed in Arun’s mind, causing him to white out. He saw armies, great hosts that rose to meet the coming darkness. He saw cities of shining magnificence, putting the golden halls of this temple to shame. Humans, but more, appeared in his mind. Beautiful, ethereal, immortal.
He saw the great armies smashed to pieces, saw their opulent cities fall to shadow and death, those arrogant fools who sought to become gods themselves have their souls rent apart and shredded down to nothing.
They had tried to make a deal with Giratina too, at the end. But to make a deal was to stand on equal footing.
Nothing was Giratina’s equal.
“-run! Can you hear me, Arun!” Pranav’s voice shook him out of his stupor. He was…he was on the floor. Oh…oh shit.
He was really starting to regret this.
“I found the blueprints!” Pranav said, ducking behind the desk as Giratina’s gaze turned to him instead, “We just need a way to extract, and for Giratina to leave us the fuck alone!”
“I don’t…I don’t think it’s going to.”
“Offer it, Arun. Freedom!”
Freedom. How could it show freedom of all things? Images. Giratina gave it images to see, could he do the same? How?
Desperation. But this time Arun put no words behind the emotion, instead he imagined open skies, the beautiful forests, and the tranquil towns of Sinnoh.
For a moment, a singular moment, Arun felt a pang of sorrow from the shadow Pokémon. A drop of regret that told him more than he had the right to know. It missed its homeland, missed the growth of the new humans, the land it was supposed to watch from the shadows, the rights taken away by lesser things.
And just like that, the sorrow was gone, and what returned was the weight of the world as Giratina focused its intent on Arun again.
Ţ̵̆̀͌́H̸̙͇͔͙̠͖̗̻̺̪͓̪͍͍͕̘̝̦̻̒͌̂̾̓͂̔͋̿̀̋̊̽́̚͠͝͝Ȩ̴̦̮̤̎͒͋̈́̈͗̏̑͆̈́͂Ŗ̵̡̥̥̩͖͔̤̝̝̼͚͔̎͗̂̄̎͜͝È̸̱̜̭̼̣̦̯̥̲̯̬̜̎́̋ ̴̧̡̡̧̣̻̳̻̫̩̲̳͓̮̮̙͇̠̭̤̟̅̐̋I̶̢̝͉̤̲̗̩͎͙̩̱̤̲̬̰̻͖̦̎̏̀̀̊̈S̷̡͎̞͔̹̝̮͍̫͉̳͂̊̏͆̉̆̕͠ ̸̧̧̞̞̹͚̮͍͚̣͍̪̼̖̦͉̜̽́̎͂̓̅̽͂͋̌̽͘͝Ṉ̸̨̳̻̭̫͓̗͍̩̜̹̦͑O̷̬̳̦̤̜̲̫̠͇̱͎̥͑̒̄̏͒̆͑̈́̇̇͋͌̇̇̓͌͒̚̕ ̷̨̡̢̯͖̼͇̼̱̲͇̭͔̘̱̦̳̗̙͊̓́̏̅͐̾̓́͗̎̾͛̂͘̕̕P̷̢̯͚̤͚͕̱͍̲͎̝͚̙͍̱̓̄͂̓̊̀̾̓͂̀̕ͅL̷͖̼̱̠͓̝̇͆̃́͌̋̋̈́̍̉̐͆̀́͑̏̋̏͘͝A̷̤͕͘C̵̢̧̧̫̟̫̤̪̱̼̭̝̦̩̥̹̖̆͂̀͊̽͆͂̔͛͑̃̉̏̍̒̚E̶̛͔͇̟̟͇̠̮̗͚̣̓̆̂̔̈́̂͐͂̈́͒͆̑̂́̚̚͠
̴̲̉̉̆͛͒̅̒͛̂̊̂͛̑̽̀̓͠͠
̶̢̤͙͓̥͚͔̦̞͚̀̈́̂͛̔̽̔̈̑̈̏͘͘F̵̨͖̺͔͚̻̬̜̯̪̦̫̙̝̩̣̤͚͇̋̊͋̔̇̈́̐͗̉̕͜O̵̡̨̤̹͍͚̙͇̪̘͇̣̫̜̓̍̽̎͛͜R̵̢̮̭̘̘͕͕̔̎̌̈͜ ̵̡̛̘̰͇͖͈̮̙̬͓͕͙̤̏̀̔̀̾̿̐́̿̅̐̈́̐̔̀̒͘͜͝͝ͅT̴̢̛͙̯͚̝̙̪͎̪̼̥̟̂̊̑͑̑̔̔̾̔͋̏̋̈́͘͝͝H̵̥͙̱̻̺̞͑̅̈́͗͂̈̓͒̈̌̆̈́̊̑̀̐̃͘͘Ẽ̶̛̩͇͌̇̾̐̆͊͊̈̕͘̚͝͠ ̶̢̨̬̫̞̞̗̠̱̜̫̯̺̜̘͔̹͐͆͜ͅU̴̧̫͌̎̒̐́̿̈́̓̀͌͗́̆͜N̷̢̧̨̖̮͔̬̜̬̝̙͍̩͇̦͈̖̥͋͑̇́͒͗̂͊͆͊̿̏̓͛̚͘͜͝͝ͅẂ̵̢͔̠̥̣̻̟̙͉̻̤̑̀̈͊̀̃̽͂̀̒̓̃̕͜͝͝͝Ǫ̶̫̤̻͚̳̭̗̠̠̳̗̳̰̣͕͔̖̩̈́͂̂̏̆͐̋̈̅̅͊͐͛̅̋́͂̇̆̓̚͜ͅR̶̡̪͚̤̯̲̥͍͕̯̮͂̑̑͛̀͒̓͐̔̈́̆̀͂̕͝͠͝ͅT̸̟̞̺̮̙͆̋̋͊̔̆̓́̓Ḧ̴̠́̉͑͐͒͗͂̾̆͋͊̓̒͂̆͘͝Y̵̢̡̮͎͖͎̲͓̗̬̠̩̘̠͕͕̙̑̈́̓̓͒̍̓̃͐̚ͅ
Arun didn’t need to understand the words to understand what Giratina was saying. If it was free they would be dead, pure and simple.
“Stubborn motherfucker.” Pranav growled, clenching his fists, “Show it the game, Arun! Everything you know about platinum. Show it that we want to play along those rules.”
Arun could only grit his teeth in anticipation. He sent a wave of pleading, desperation to Giratina again. This time he filled it with pixelated images, everything he remembered from the game. From the start, to the three lakes, to Mt.Coronet, and Cyrus’s demise.
Another series of images bombarded Arun, the same he’d sent to Giratina, except this time realized. Memories? Was this the “two sets of memories” Pranav mentioned? He could feel its longing towards the 'true' timeline, oh how it wished it lived its life there instead of being bound here.
“What did it show you?” Pranav demanded.
“Cyrus! It knows what happens!” Arun called back.
“Then show it Cyrus again. Show that he’s here, and that he’s coming for Giratina.”
He did. He showed Cyrus and his admins standing at the head of a Galactic force, teams of scientists and Grunts at the ready. He imagined Cyrus walking into the room, Giratina bound and unable to do anything, as the team worked to figure out how to bring the Pokémon under their control.
Ȉ̴̛̹̳̀̀̏̉̈́̿͛̀̐̅͑̓͑͐̓̚̕͜͝M̵̡͙͖̞̭̯͍̥̮͕̟̙̻̲͓̫̼̯͕̑̉̈͊̊̽̓̑̿͑̇́̑̔̂̿̐́ͅP̵̢̞̪̗̺̞̖͎̘̞̘̬͉̔͑̉̋̚ͅÓ̵̪̭͛̒͐̅̈́́S̸͕͗̆̅͂̈́̀͒̇͂̇̑̌̓̒́͑̈́̾̎̔̚͝ͅŞ̶̡̧̻̰͓̻͈̦͍̬͙̗͔̯͉̺͓̜̻̟̬̘̖̮̹̌́̽́̑̕͝Ỉ̵͍͚͉̤̖̰̭̭̺̦̫̭̪͚̞͗͆̅̃̊̃͘B̶̥̭̖̬͖̞͖̬̩͇̳̟̫͊͜ͅĽ̸͖̖͈̣͓̼͇͔̈́̊̾̀́̽͛̿̒̀͊̾̈́̋͑̇̉͛̒͂͘͜͝͝E̶̠̦͐́̀̓̀͒̒́̽̃̇̽̂̍̐͑̎̄̽̎̇̕̚̚͘̚
̵̧̡̲̦̦̗͕̫̟̺̠̤̪̫̻̝̂̔̀͑̉̌̀͑́̓̉̍́͆͊̇̄͂̋̊̒̚͝͝͝͠
̴̧̡̢̬̳̥͕̞̺̟̭͍̗̝͚̭̺̻̣͕̪̯̤͑̅̊̏͂̌͂̾͘I̴̮̗̙̬͝T̸̮̪̼͙͈̩̣͒́͌̔͋͊͊̌̈́͠ ̶͍̳̺̳̦͉͐́̎̓̍̎̈́͆̀̋̅́̌̓͑̅̅̑̃̌̓͗̈͊͘̕Į̶̛̛̝͛̉̐̍͒͐̀̆̾̀̎̑̽͂͑͌̏̒̐͗̍̏͝͠S̴̨̡̤̥̘̻̮̬̘̮͈͕͖̞̯̭̲̞̮̑͜ ̵̧̥̣̞̦̹̤̖̪͍̠͚͔̗̙͖̞̰̘͙̜̖̫̓̀̏̀̀͊̉͌̔̀̀̍̂̇̿͊̕͜͠ͅT̴̨̡̡̨̝̼̺̗͔̮̟̝̣̥͔͍̺̦̭͍͊͐͑͋͌̇̔͗̓̓̓͂͂́̃͐Ọ̵̢͙͈̠͕̺̣͎̰̲̪̗̩͍̞͎̙͓͈̭̼̐̈́̒̓̎̀͐̃͊̀̂̅́̀͋̚͘͘̕͜͝ͅǪ̸̨̞̦̣̞̯̫̰̰̮̹͚̦͚͚͚̲͓͈̻͛͋̍̎̐̈́͂̐̃̀͒̓̔͌͌̊͒̅́̅͘̚͝
̷̡̢̮̬͓̥̞̝̘̰̞̱̱͕̙̺̳͚͔͔͎̩̤͍̌̒͋͛̀͛̀̋͆̅̀͂̇̍̓̔́͜͠
̴̢̨̦͙̬̥̤͉̙̯͚̩͔̦̯͔̹̮̩͗͗̒̈͛̀̕͝͝ͅS̸̡̧̢̛̛̱͍͖͉̻̗͚̼̘̙͉͙̖̱̮̲͔̳̣̒͋̆̈́̅͊͐͂̍̂͑͋͗́̎́̐͜͜͠ͅȮ̵̧̨̢͉̖̬̦̲̰̪̫͕͖̪̭͔̦͖̭̬̫̤͑̊̅̍̄͋̌͑́̍̈́̃̽̈́͆̏̕̕ͅỎ̴̧̢̢̨̦̖̳̳̜͙͇͎̠̮̜̣̟̯̔͌̆͑͂̈́̈́̆̓̎̈́̑̈̿̑̾̆̓̕̕̚͝͝ͅN̵̺͓̤̬̘̯̯̭̟̄͠
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Pranav grinned, “Ask for what it wants us to do.”
Worry. What do you want? Stay and you see how things end, make a deal with us and be free.
S̶̡̡̨̨̯̠͈͍̼̝̻̳͙̺͖͎͉̠͕̩̗̻͍̮͖͒̌̊̆̈́̓̓̓̓̅͂̊͐͛͊́̀͝͝Ę̶̢̺͙͙͙̒̌̂̇̐̈̌̚͝͝͠Ȩ̸̢̢̓̽͑,̴̢̙̼̼͍̠̝̎͋̿̽̑̈́̍͒́͋̑̔̐̈́ ̶̢͙̖̤̹͎̫̟̼̪͇̥̩͎̳̖̲̼̙̠̬̲̓͝Y̵̡͇̱͎̺̮̱̻̲͐̈́̍̉̅̿̈̈́̌O̴̢̡̝͚̫̬̠̺̺̗͖̪̦̭̖̲̟̞͋̑̎̈͊͆̀̓̈́̄̓̓ͅŲ̸͔̤̞̥̖̬̰̳̗̹̳̳̣̫͕̙̟͎̦̗͒͂͂̿̈̉̅̎̒́̾́̏͝ ̵̞͚̱̌͂͋̀̿̈́̓͑̂̐̐̊͒͑̑͗̿̋̔̚͘̚͘͝͝F̸̲̞͆͌̾̒̒͂̄̃͋Ơ̴̢̱̟̩͇͍̥̪͓̟̊̈́̍̃́̌̌́̋͊͐͊͊̋͑͒͋͛̕̕͠͝Ǫ̴̺̞͇̜̫̳̤̜̫͓͔̜̞̓͊̿͗͑͝L̴̛̛̗̖̙̥͔̜͉̻̮̠̪̱̞̈́̇̌͆̽̒̊̈͆͑̑͗͊͆̈̆̈́͝͝
̴̡̯̰͉͎̟̠͉̬̘̓̑̂̚ͅ
̶̨̡̗̭̬̮͖͎̞̹̫͎̄́́͆͋̎͑͑̋̔̉͑̈́̈́́͂͘̕͝͝͝ͅŞ̶̧͕͍̟͈̟͈͖͇͙̯͙͔̠͉̤͗̎̏̈́̓͜͜ͅĘ̵̧̤̝̮̳̺̰͈̞̘̹̳̰̠̫͚̲̱̻͓͔̌͋̑͆̓̍͜ͅE̸̡̢͈͍̘̼̰̯͓͈̞̭̬̿̃͗̚͜ ̴̼̳͇͌̌̇͗͛͛̕͝T̵͕͔̟̯͔̬̺͇͕̟̮̑͛̂͂̇̕̚H̷̡͕̩̮̫̮͖̤͚̦̩̼̺̺̙̜͛͂̈́̈́̈͛̅́̒̋̃̋͆͘͝Ȩ̴̙̺̪̖̹͍͓̄̑̀̊̀̿̒̓̐͒̃̚ ̶̺͊̈́̾̿͂̅̾̑̀͝C̶̨̛̹̮̫̐̈́̑̾̀̈́̈͛̔̃O̸̧̭̻̬̟͙͇̺͈̞̊̍̉͘͜ͅÑ̴̡̧͓̪̘̞̖̙̥̯͎̯̹̫͕̲̪͖͍̫͙̽̾͆̈̌̀̽̓̃́̌̊͊̈́̉̆͝͝͝ͅS̸̳̖͎͈̹̰͚̲̼̦̩͓͎͉̥̰̠̗̖̘͔̮̃̓͑͜͜ͅȨ̸̠̩̻̖̻̳͕̝̘̗̺͎̞̜̄͒̈̉͑̓̂̃̊́̑̾͊͊̓͠ͅQ̴̡̩̘̻̮̪͚̫̈́̑̈́̒͗͂͊̀̈̿̈́͆̀͆͘̕̚͠͝Ư̶̢͈̹̠̭̭̄͑̎̽̑̉̽͂̆͘͠͠Ê̷̟͈͖̝̞̟͕̥̹͈̫̘͉̬̦̍̊͐͑̐̌̆̔͆̿̅̓͆̏͐̽̃̽͘͘̕͜͝͠͝͝Ǹ̸̨͚̩͓̰͚̙̥̱̰̖͊͒͐̌̇̊͗̌̅̌͑͛̎̌̚͘͝͝C̸̨̢̧̛̹̥̭̥̟̝̬̞̼̺̣̘͑͋͑͐̿̾͂͛́̋̅̌́̓̒͋̈̀̒̍̀̍͝͝Ë̷̢͇͈̰̠̥̱̱̬͖̮̬́̔̈͂̑͋̈́̌͝ͅS̷̛͙̘͙̙̠̟̻͈̬̣͎̲̄̂̑͑̓̀̈̒̈́͒̀̍̀͜͝
̶̡͉̫̬͍͔͎̦͙͍͈͍̞͖͙͚̟̘̪͓͔̣͓̐̀́̑̈͊̔͝ͅ
̶̧̢̢̥͔͓̻̰͚̖̻̝̙̳͔̟͚̲͎̣̹͖͓̽̋̀̈͒̑̒͌̕Ợ̴͐͒̊̈́̂̾́̔̓͑̄͊̈̈́̓̽̉̚̚͘͘̕͠F̴̧̛̗̣̪̜̫͚̖̬̀͆͛͑̀̈͂͐̐̀͗̚̚͠͝ ̵̧̗͔͙̮̏̇̓̿̿̀̓̔͌̀͗̍͊̈́̾̽̕͘̕̚M̷̗̫͕̬̞̣̞͇̼̗̲̗̻͇̃̈́̀̑͐͘Ỷ̸̡̨̫̜̖̠͉̪͐͘ ̴̡̢̭͕̯͎̲̣̉̓̉͊̅̋̀̅̇̈̈͗̌̀͛̂̓͘C̴̪͙̋̈́̒̒̈́̇̀̑͋͛̊͗͌̎͊͂̒͆́̍̎͘̕͝͠Ŏ̸͔͚͙͙̤͍̼̺͇͈͖̮̜̰̤̹̮̤̟̦͐́͌͊͛͒̏̓̏̋̓̊͒̀͂̏͊̎̽̍͑͘͠͝ͅN̵̡̫̖̝̰͕̲͔̪̫͕̮̦̹̫̒̐̒̐̊̋̅͋́̿͛͌̂̎͆̀̕͘͝͝F̶̢̡͈͙̝͕̬͎͎͕̫̠̤͎̻͂̀̈́̀̊̓͒͒͝͠I̵̜̼͖̩̼̽̐͛̅̃̊̾N̶̙͍̘̦̙̼̟̼̐̈́̓́̀Ę̴̫̟͓̓̅̇̎̉͑͑͋͋͂͗͆̃͆̈́̇͑̈́̆̕͘͜͝͝M̵̛̘̙͖̖̝͓͇͍̲̼̪̝͓̲͓̭͓̊̀́̍͆̉̾͋̀Ę̴̨̛̮͚̰̫̪̣͇̦͈̩̣̺̞̟̤̋Ṋ̸̢̧̢͎̫̦̰̳̩̺̲̦̌̽͗͗̐́̋̌̾͆̽̔́͗̍́͘͝T̶̨͇͔̩͖͍͈̳̱̣̜̩̪̳͙̪̼͖̼̓̄̉̀͐͋̂̾͜͜͝ͅ
Arun felt himself being pulled, though he did not move a muscle. His edges of his vision blurred as his mind was assaulted by spikes of intent. He wanted to scream, but found himself unable to as he was forced to watch the end of the world.
He saw Giratina unleashed on the world, bringing it to heel. He saw his siblings, Dialga and Palkia as they were brought to their knees. They were strong, strong enough that together, the two could defeat him if they tried. But gods were solitary creatures, and his siblings had underestimated him.
Him? Arun? Giratina? He couldn’t tell.
Where was their father? Where was the creator of all?
It did not know, but he feared all the same. He fought, struggled, resisted. But as Cyrus’s laughter echoed throughout the skies all would know that it would be futile. He saw two false gods, who’d played a game they understood nothing of, cower in fear as the world around them crumbled, and a new one was formed.
Y̷̛̫̲͔͈͓̺̜̜͈͖͍͙̌̎̆͋̕ͅO̶̡̡̗͚̟̤̗͔̱̖̱̾̌͗̂̒̀͑̑̐̈́̀͜͠U̸̧̯̩̯͑͑͗̿͐͑͐͋͋̇̎̈ ̴̨̞͕̦̤̤̈́̃̆̅̓̎̚Ẃ̶͙͙̺̦̮͇̙̹͍͔̬̍̆͜͜͝Ọ̸̼̖̮̻͙̺̩̩̮̝̹͈͍͊̒͝Ừ̴̰̮̝͔͆͊̑̽̄̓̑̀̾̄͐͠L̶̦͕͎̞̰͊̅͊D̴̼͕̤͉̹͎̗̰̠̺̤̈́̈́̒̌̏́́͐̌̏̿̅̎͌ ̸̟̼̜̮̩̄̄̈Ḑ̷̨̛̪̻̥̬̹͙̬̟̓̒̒̓̒O̷̲͂͂͐͋̀͌̈́̂̓̚O̵̧̡̙͇̻̲̪͎̗̰̒ͅM̸̩̠̿͊̓͂̑͌͂͐͗̌͒͛͝ ̸͓͚̣̝̑̆͛̑͊̊͊̌̎͋̎͂̐̓̓͜͝T̷͖̲͚̬̼̙̫̦͓̲̜̋ͅḦ̸́̆͌͘̚͜͠͠Ë̸̠̦̲̪̞̹̞͕̮̼̻̤͙͚́̈͒̄̑͂͐̈̔͊̀͛͘͝M̴̧̧̗̠͕̲̯͓̳̞̪͍̠͙̰̎̀̎ͅ ̷̥̍̽͝
̷̤͗́̓́͗̑̉̇̈͐̒̚
̶̢̧̡̛̗̼̫̫͎͎̖̾̀̈̂̿̒̿̒̈́͛̇̒͋Â̸̢̨̗̪͇̯̳͈͍͙̯̮̞̠̼̓̏̃̂̾̕͜L̶̡̞͎̪̲̩̩͇͍̜̹͔̖͈̦̀̃̔̂͂̋̈́͑͜͝L̸̙̲̩͕͖̈́̒̋̅͆̓͒̽͐͊͋͗̚͘͠͠
̷̤̭̻̺̭̫͛̓̽͊
̷̨̢̛͚̹͕̫̹̘̰̭̼͇͕̟̍̑̄̏̿̈̓̄̽͜͝Ý̵̨̢̛͕̲̯͍͎̱̬̹͍̰͍̏̇͂̈́̇Ő̸̡̩͎͉̗̮͈̔̀́̈̈́̎͌͛̊̑̀͜͜ͅU̴̗̺̲̱̫͎̱͇͚̤͚̪̱̪͈͖̍̋̀ ̴̰͚̖̃̈́̄͛͐̂͑́̽W̸͉͔̠̗̺͇̃͆̂̅̓͋̐̏̋́͘͜Ǫ̷͍̪͓̠́̂͆́͊̾́̓͘͝Ṵ̴̙̞̮͕͍͗͛̿̿L̴̢͈̫̙͇̱̯͕̊͐̈̑̇̈́́̊̅̿̇̚͠D̷̢̛͙̫̦̠̲̣̼̓̋̾̇͂̏͐̿͊ ̵̨̨̛̼͚̏̔͒͗̍̒̅̽͝B̴̧̥̪̦̩̩͎̙̖͚̳̪̳̱̒̂̊̾̐̐̏͘̚Ŕ̸̛͔̳̗̥̦̰̙́̂͗̉̊̂̈́͆̀͊͘͜͜͠͝E̶̛͍͈̻̹͔̔͒̋̔̀̈̎̈́̈̽̋̆̂̚A̵̗̲͙̅̔̎̀̀̾̋Ķ̴̧̛̙̮͙͓̥̜̳̞̱͇̻̥̿̾͆̔̈́͂̕͜ ̶͓̣̗̬̰͙͆͛͐̌͜Ţ̶̛͖̭̟͖̰̤̺̩̘̯̫͕͛͊̓̆͂̊̒̋̈́͆́͌̈́̕͜͜Ḫ̵̯̫͙̻͇͉͓̱͎̲͔̥̙̐̿͌͋̀̈́̕͝͠E̸̡̧̡̠̻͍̫̫̣̳͉͔̫̮͂͂͒̓͌͑̄͛̐ ̷͈̲̬͔͇̬͕̠͍͖͖̞̺͑̽̒͘Ẁ̷̧̦͇̣̬̺̜̼̲͕̜̒̈́͐̿̏͒͆͒O̷̗͋R̶̢̖̞̝͇̪̫̫͇͉̲̞͎̪̭̾͆͆̇̄͘͝L̷̜̞̝͍̉̒̇͒̎͝D̴̩̻̆͛́́̚
Arun gasped as the vision ended. What the hell was that? A vision of the future? A truth? No…no he had to think. He had to think, but he couldn’t think. There was so much pressure, so much fear pressing down on him it was taking everything he could not to simply pass out.
“-lp him Aken! Don’t focus on me!”
Slowly, ever so slowly, the fear drained away. For the time being, while he had Aken’s attention, the fear would go faster than it would build. It let him think, and he realized with the faintest glimmer of hope that it wasn’t the future. It was a future. A choice, a possibility. Giratina was the ruler of the mirror dimension, did it have insight into other futures? Was that a thing?
No…could he risk it? The end of the world…?
“We die by our choice.”
He glanced at Pranav, whose shaky hands dragged file after file into a singular location, trying to blot out the pressure Giratina was exerting.
A choice…
For a moment, the fear slipped away, and it was replaced by acceptance.
So be it. He intoned to Giratina, If there is no place for us, then we will watch it all burn.
Y̵̡̢̧̝̝̜̥̬̼͍̬̘̍͒́͐͛͠ͅǑ̸̡̞̭͍̞͚̹́̾̃͛͒̓̀͊̔̕͠͝Ư̶̲̣̦̫̼̬̜̲̗̫̠͔̜͌̅͐̑̐̈́͑̍̎͜͠͝͠ͅ ̶̳̗͎̘̄͒̉̿͜D̵̡̡͚̳̝͕̳͎̖̙̒̍̆́̈́̓̓̂͋͆͜͝Ả̵̰͕̰͚̩͖͍̗͒̍̈́̓̍ͅŖ̷͈͈͈͇̯̫̫̪̲͇̝͖̰̖͂̀̾̊̽͌̃͗͠Ę̶̨͓̜̜̫͙͖̞͔̠̹͊̀̀̅͜͜͜
̴̮̟̜̹̫̞̀̒́̀͊̄͝
̶̛̪̈́Ş̶̡̨̥̩͔̰̙̭͕̲͇̞̼̝͎̅N̶̦̥̏́̾͂̑̈́͝͠Í̵̧͉̯͎͗̀̎̀̐͝V̸̨̯̬͕͈̬̤̭̰̤̙̗̠̻̅̑̌̈́͌̌̉̈́͑́̓͘͠ͅḘ̴̖̼̞̏̈̿L̵̢̧̢͕̘̙͎̙̿͌Ļ̶̨͉̼̦̘̘͈͇͋̿Ḯ̵̲̟̤̲͉͉̭̪̗͍̺̦͙̺͐̉̊͛̍̈́̇̃̄̌ͅN̸͍͍̪̜̼̣̗̱̳̗̖̝̲̆̀̆͒̚Ǵ̶̥̰͎̗̀̋ ̷̛̫̫͕̩̝̻̺̞̿̃̈ͅͅP̷̛̪̯͕̦̰̼̫̲̯̗̎̃͛̌A̸̘͕̦̰̫̼͎͔͌̅̆̀̓̓́ͅŖ̴̼͖͍͇̣͎̳̫͕̝̺͛̇̌̽̀A̷̛̲̠̠̦͙̞̯̼̝̖͌̊̍̒͂͌̓ͅS̶̪̣͓̥͚̰̠̔͑̾̍̓͛̎́͜͠ͅỈ̶̦̩̓͂̂͒͌̍̿̏͊̈́̔͘̕̚͝Ṫ̶̡̩̞͍̝͙̺̹͉̯̱̩̬̩͖̼̌̆E̴̡̛̛͕̜̗̣͓̲̩͕̭̖̼͙͊͒͗̅̎́̈̊͗̀͒̑͘͠ͅ
̷̫̯͇̰͇̬́͂͊́̈̍͋̕̚̚͠͝ͅ
̷̨̲̦̗͖̭͈̠̟̟̭͎͓͒͌̿̽͒͆̕Y̶̠̋̈́̓̑̀̃̋̆̊̒̎̄̌͘O̸̙̬̟̰̟͕̖̭̎̉̑̇̽͠U̵͖̘̺͕̠͇̖̣̜̠̹̺̐̐ͅ ̸̼̞̻̮͚̱̱͎͖̠̼̞͎̜̔͑͆̋̓̉͘͝ͅͅD̷̨̧͔̱̲̆͋ͅÀ̵̢͔̖͕̫̘̺̰̙̣̣͓͒̾̈́̏͜Ȓ̴̼͈̳̞̼͖̤̳̜̓͗͆̒̊Ȩ̵̹̦͊͆̓͊̒̀̈́̉̒̑̎̓͝ ̷̡̢̙̥̼̟̞̗̭̈́̾̑̽̕̕͜Ṟ̴̥̗̏͌̉͌̉̽̐̽́̉̕Ų̴̧̦͖̤̥̰̟̖̲̭͓̪̟͂͂̅͗̏̈́̍̉̎̄̚͝I̶̤̍̃͘N̶̨̥̞̯̻̩̩̭̠̯͈͈̺͕̍̄̾̈́̄̂̐͂̀̾͑̇͂̚͝ ̷͍̗̗̟͍͕̯͓̰̠̯̞̌̎͒̎̾͂͊̐̒̇͆́͆Ō̵͔̼͕͇̮͕͖̮̮̬̈́̽̅̓̇̀́͒̐̆̓͋̇͐͂Ŭ̶̢̡̧͍̮̠̱͇̘͂͌͗̓̅̒͝͠R̷̥̮̯͔͉̺͉͈͍͍̼̟̞̖͓̐͗̈́̏͐̌͆̎̿̍̎̚͝ ̵̱̖̯̲̼̮̰͍̊́C̴̻̪̲̺̃̂̑͘͝Ŗ̸̢̞͓͍̲͉̝̟̞̦̮̗͕̞̏͜E̴̮̝͉̬̜̦͈̗͔̩̤̞̜̓̀̽̄̃͐̃̊̅͘͘͜͠A̸̤̝̳͍͍̳̭̣͍͆̂̿̇T̶͍̩͍̣̖͈̺͚̤̃Î̸̢̡̹͔̬̲̺̞̅̑̾͊̋̐̇͘͠O̷̡͇̝̗̦̱̠̲̝͜͝Ņ̴̧̝̖̜̲̩̫̭͕̗̖͈̩̿̄̀͋̆̆̃̀̀͆̎̐
Its screech of anger sent him and Pranav crashing backwards onto the floor. In front of them, Giratana shrieked, bucking and rolling as it fought against the chains that continued to hold it still. Amidst the anger, Arun singled out a single emotion, a single breath of hope that had his own heart soar with elation.
Fear. Giratina felt fear.
“What the fuck did you say!?” Pranav managed to shout over its cries.
“I told Giratina we’d let Cyrus ruin the world if we didn’t get what we got!” Arun laughed.
“HAHA!” Pranav’s laughter matched his own, “HEAR THAT? WE GOT NOTHING TO FUCKIN LOSE! WE’RE DEAD MEN WALKING MOTHERFUCKER!”
I̸̗̋͋̈̅̕ ̸̡̧̹̹̭̫̻͚̤͕̰̬̹͐̄̓͑͊̄̌̌̍̉̔̈́̌͝͝ͅͅẂ̶̯̣̟̱̪̤̘͎͈͈̫͖̓̋̇ͅͅͅÌ̷̢̨̖̖̳̗͈͈̪̹̉̅͆̈́̾L̷̪̠͚̙̿̄̇L̷͙̠̬̟̥̺͍͍̮̻͔̝̜͇̱͈̏͑̾̋̀̍ ̴̨̼̼̘̩͔̜͛̈̓͛͘̚S̷̼̾̇͋̔͋̊̀̾͗̌͑̚͘͠L̴̡̳̬̹͚͇̻̫̫̠͖͚̳̣̬͌̋̔͜I̷̡̢̜̩̮̖̜̥͔̗̘͑̈́͛͛͑́͊̿̄͒̋͒̕T̸̛̠̘̟͉͉̜̤̘̙̾̒͌̈́̍̍͂́͐͋͂̒͗̋͠ ̶̗͈̉̉̉̐̓̑͋̿̀̈́́̅͘͝͝Y̵̡͈̞̤̠̬̣̟̬̻̥̒̀̒̄̀̀͑̈̈͗͆̌͠O̴̡̧̳͓͓̜̯̖̣̻̱̞̖͕̮͑͛̈̓̆͆̍͝ͅU̴̧̮̬̞͇͓̬̩̜͈̭̘̙̠̥͍̔̾Ṟ̸̨͊̾̆͆̃̎̿̀͊̊ͅ ̸̛̜̽̿̉͌T̴̗̮̠͔͚̣̣̹̥̼̹̜̰̾̾̓͗͌Ȟ̶̛͉̱̰͚̣̬̻̻̯͇̊̒̈́̀͒̚͠R̷̨̛̭̘̟̬̝̯̩̓̔̍̈ͅO̸̱͙̦͐̒̈́̈͊͑̓͗̿̆͒̀̕̕͝͠A̴̢̧̢͙̾̈́̓͊̓̀̉̈͌́͗͊̕̕͠ͅŢ̵̹͍͓̱̟̖͗̋́͗̓̓ͅṢ̷̰̗̙͋̈́͛̂̒
̴̞̭͊̑̽͒̐̕
̷̢̣͔̗̟͆̒̈́̑̇̉̊͋̕͝͝ͅR̴̨͍͔͕̺͐̍̀̈́͘ͅͅİ̷̲̱̞̘̥̦͔̙̻̼͖͛̒̍̿̀͆͘͜P̶̛̺̪̬̘͂͌̈́̈̋̇̄͠ ̵̼͊̈́̈́͆̿͐̓̈͑̚͠͠͝͠Ǫ̵̢̯͍̣̟̩̫̬̥̹̹̆̌̉͆̽̓̾̊̔̈́̎̂͘̚ͅŪ̶̡̫̪̙̰̭̦̯͙͔̫̼̩͎̥̃̂̋̽͐T̷͖͖̫̭̠̳̰̦͕̘͊̆́ͅ ̷̧̤͚̦̦̝̖̤̲̬̮̖̓̔̌̆̉̑̅̓Y̴̢̨̭̦̩̔Ó̶͍͈̪̻̙̬̺̘̤̹̲͇͔͙̮͚͂̎̈́͂̚U̷̢̩̺̥̮͉̜͉̩̯͔̩͂͑̅̊̔̀̀̂̉͂͘͜Ȓ̶̢͉͉̠̻̜̮͓̗̰̩͖͔̪͗̌͆̀̈̐͒̍̄͌̆̕̚͠͝ͅ ̵͍̔̃͑̇̇̍G̷̨̹̩̩̼̣͆̀͐͊̓͊̌͛̀̈́̅̔͘̚Ư̶̲̫̍̌̉̀̎̇̌̃̓̏̎̃͒͌͠Ţ̵̛̮̭̮͇͛̏̾̊̋̐͑͒̉̿̇̿͌͘͠ͅS̵̡̧̧̰͖̩̫̗͇̮̥̭̜̻̳̙̄̈͑̃̐̀͒̈́̈́̈͂̈́̕͝
̴̨̛̛̺̅́͑̈́̄͋̂̃̃̉̚̚͜
̶̮͖̲͖̮́͛̈́͑̂͂́̈́̈́̊͊̕̕F̸̧̡̻̬̤̩̮̰̟͍̠̮̻̎́̉͗̆̉̽̇̀̆̌͛̈̊͛͜͜͠Ė̸̯͕̱̌̅̇͝͠ͅE̴͕͋D̸̡̛̪̩̦̖̜̯̣̪̊͆̈́̎̓̇̽̈́̉̈͘̚͠͠ ̸̛͕̯̖̟̩̓̒̅͆̓̍̈̏͑̓̓̕͝Y̴̧̛͖̰͉͖̟̱͍͙̪̭͖̭͇̗̤̐̏̅̀̋̇̿̀̎̃͊̽͊́͠Ö̶̢̢̹̗̘͖̬̟̙́͌͒̏̀̒̈̒́̇̐̋̀̕Ư̶̢̡̡̛̫̣̯̼̫̜͓̗͍̺̜͐̊̑̾̌͒̃͋́͌͒͌̕ ̵̻̘͉̹͖͔̼̺́̃͂͐͑Ý̸͖͓̘̺̳͖̈́̀Ö̶̢̢̠͓̳̩̭́U̴͇̱̦̗̹̻̩͉̜̫̦̪̼̯͐̍͋̀̎̃͑̈̍̾͜͝͠R̵͎̲͆͘ ̶̛̘̦̩̿͗̽̋̒̾̿̄͒̆͝E̸̫̝̥̰̠̓̀̈́͑͋̀̓̅̑̕͠N̶̛̞͈͒̌̍͌͒̃̌̀̈́̎̈́͝T̸̨͍̺̰̟̜̓̔R̸̼͓͖̙̦̦͔̥̈͐̎́͋̋͑͜A̷̞̩̬̹̦̬͓̲͑̈̐̆́͗̈́̎I̶̧̡͙̰̟͙̲͉̮̖̟̻̖̩̟̫̊L̸̡̡̤͔̩̮̙̦͇̫̺̟̼̥͊͜S̷̢̱͚̹̮̺̼̰̳̜̋̏́̆͂̓̂͝͠
̷̧͍̠̼̩͈͙̱͚̺̠̭͇̫̞̾͒́̑̓̀́͗̓̕͘͝
̸̧̗̼͎͖̈́͌͋͋̒͘Ģ̷̡̢̻̯̣̳̰̦̘͓̥̰̽̇̀́Ṅ̷̢̡̹͍̘̺͚̮̦̈́̀̍͗̃̿̏̓͘͝A̶̢̡̢͕̼̥̼̻͔̱̲͓̻̎̏̓̒̂̍̎͂͆̓̏̓͠S̸̢̯̩̜̯̪̦̱̳̘͈̰̿̉̐̊̊̃͒̏́͂̓̽̂̎̈H̴̰̖͉̤͚͚̮̣̉͜͜ ̵̧̛̖̱̹̥͇̘͉̼͉̫̙̀̀̉̌̓͆̽̊̈́̈́̔̍͘͘ͅY̷̫̙̦̣̙͕͇͈̜̋̄͐̋͌͑̄́͆̏̃̓͠͝͝Ȍ̶̲͙̲̹̻̘͉͔̮̖͐̓͑͗̅̐̾̽͠U̸̧̢̲͕̼̯̦̜͍͖̓̆͆̇̈́ͅR̷̹̼͎̋̏̍͑̉̂͝͝ ̷̢̛̜̭̥̺̙̥̣͔̺̞̤̝̖̎͛̎̾́͝ͅS̵̛̯̗̜̭̻̮̗̈́̏̾̀̅͋̓͌̐̆̕͠͝Ơ̴̡̲̣̦͉̈͆̀̾̂̌̃̚͘͝ͅỦ̴̢̯̗̖̣̖̯̤̩̜̞͈̠̂̔̉͒̇͛̅͒͘͘̚͝ͅĻ̵̞͚̯̙͌͋̽̂͠͝͠
̶̬̺̑͗̋͘
̶̛̼̖̪͌͆͆̍̿̿̊͐̊̄̌͛̀̄͝Ḅ̵̢̧̩͇͚̘͔̰̫́́͋̂R̸̢̨̛̹͓͙̮̀͂͑̓ͅȨ̴̨̯̝̣̻͕͍̗̯̗̗͉̜̪̰͌̃͗̽̌̈́̒̕͝Â̵̞͖̈́͑̐̃͌̓̈́K̶̢̢̛̰̰̺̼̱̜͓̐̈́̀̒̉͊̀̓̓̂̾͘̚͜͠͝ ̶̢͕͔͇̯͈͍͍̼͙̫̰̠̇̌̀̈̈̚̚͝Y̴̨̧̨̧̼̭̖̖̤̙̳̪̝̝̑̈̒̈́̽͐̓̿̊̈́̈̀͘̚͜͝ͅO̷̥̮͇͌̔Ư̴͙͈̲̼̟̯̬̜̈́̃̊̀̓̌́͘̕͘R̴̙͇̬̯͈̮̬̹͙̦͈̼̙̙̍̓̈́͊̕ͅ ̷̢̛̬̥̬͖̻̳̬͕͍͆̎́͗͘̕B̶̨̛̟͙͇̠͈͙̑̎̽̑̅̈́̀̈́̋͝O̷̢͙͎̗̲̼̫̐̾̅̇͊̈́̿͘̕Ņ̸̡̟͉̫͍̱̺̞̞̙̫̦̐͑̿͂̓͌̃͒̾͜͝Ė̴̛̩̤̂́͛̉͂̀͆͒̒͝͝͠Ș̵̠͍̝͖̪͔̠͈̖̣̥̹͙̠͐̀͌̚
̷̧̗̮̬̩͚̬͎̮̬͊̀̓̃́̈́̈́̆̔̔̽͝
̸̧̪̣̳̍͗́̔͑̀́̅̀̀̇̓̎̾͘W̷̜̰̥̙͍̰̰̒̓̄͊̇̑́̑́̍̐͛́̚͘͝I̴̢̡̪͇̙̰͙̝̳̟̘̐̉̏͒̊̓͒̔̾̎̂̿̀͝͝P̴̨̧̩̯̩̦̮̥̌̍̍́̍̄̄́̈̍̑̅̉̌͜E̷̢̛̠̜̹͇͈͉͙̓̃̑͂̓̀͆̃̚͘͠ ̶̨̺̙͚͒̒͘Ŷ̶̨̨̩́̾͗̒̆̒̄͘͘͝O̵̢̠͇͕̩͎͙̞̖̘̱͕͊̓̽̽̋͊̾͜U̷̧̬͛͐̀̇͌̀̿̈́̃̅͆̋͐̊ ̸̭͆͑͆̂͂̈F̵̟̠͒́͘R̵̺͚͙̀Õ̴͍̓̋M̷̡̧̞͓̩͖̤̱͖̥̻̣̝̆̽͆̕ ̸̪͕̞̪͕̥̿̔͛̓͋̊ͅE̵͙͈͌̍ͅX̸̛̱͚̭̲͙̱̗̗̦̺̍͂̃̇̓͒́̓̒̔͠Í̵̧̱̭̦̤̥̞͖͍̮̙̣̺͉͐̅͝͠ͅS̸̡̧̝͙̞͚̩̪͔̎̑̀T̵̡̺̰͎̞͍̠͈̤͍͚̻̒͐̇̆͒̃̃̊̎͑͜ͅḘ̸̡̛̜̹̯̝̱͎̲͙̘̪̦̃̾̇̅N̸̨̨̢͖̪͕̦͚͐́͑͋C̵̛̭̭̤̩͔̪͈̻̪̭̗̳͑̃̍͌̇̅͝ͅE̷̮͐̐͐̃̏̍̌͆͗̒̓̉̕̕͘͠ͅ
̴̨̫̻͖͑̔
̶̡̢̨̘̫̞̗̬̦̦̠̥̳̾̓̒͛͂͋͘͝ͅA̶̤͚̭̍̓͛͊̓̃̂͐̑̇N̷̛̘̫̐̊Ḑ̴͚̞̭̈̐̄ ̸͇̤̗̗͖̘͚̻̺̆̍̒̌̇̕͠B̷̠̘̪͈̠̜͍͉͛́͑̎͐̒̈͋͒̓͑̂̀̅̾̔A̶͎̬͎̣͎̻̩͑͗̑͗͂̓̅͂͝T̵̨̰̣̘͖̺͓͚̦̱̹̟͇̝̉̒̽̓̅́͆̀̽͐̆̄̚͠͠ͅH̴̛̫͕̬̯̄͆̏̾͂̔̊̈̍̾̌͋Ë̶͍̭͕̲̤̞̫̻͈̪̳̭͍̎͊͝ͅ ̸̰̤͔̹̻̝̣̤̔I̶̧̡̛̮͇̝̩̞̟̪̖̝͑́́͒̈͊̈́̚͠N̵̨̢̦̙͙̪̜͉̜͉̥͓̺͈̺̈́̀͊̈̋͑̓̀̔͂̄͑̍̚̕ ̷̧̢̛͈̟̼̭͎̥͇̙̼̘͖͙̩̺͋̈́̂̈́͐͛̔̃͑̚Y̴̨̛͖͎̘͋̄̒͆̇͆̕̕O̷͔̪̳̔͆U̸̧̺̻͚̲̒͋̊̾̄͑̎̃̉̇̎͂́̚̚͜R̷̥̟̠̦̳̈́͗̏́͐̀̍̏͠ ̷̝̖͎͍̞̭̺̠̊͋́̓̚̚B̷̻̟͇̈́̔̐̿̃̃͘͘Ĺ̵̪̞̺̻̜̍̐͛͒̆̑̉̀̑̽̉̕͝Ȯ̴̦Ǫ̷̨̹̮̙̯͎̉́̈́̌͝͠Ḑ̶̢̜̞͉̘͇̤̯͈̹̱̰̹̙̹̍̄̃̕
“Oooh you got it mad!” Pranav cheered.
No more desperation. No more pleading. Now it was a negotiation. Arun sent a wave of want towards Giratina. Give us access to the Red Chains. Give us your word we shall not come to harm. Give us this and you are free.
He continued to send image after image of what he imagined was Cyrus getting closer and closer to the observatory. A sense of urgency, a sense of time running out. He sent back visions of what Giratina showed him, to be bound, to have no choice.
After what felt like an eternity, Giratina finally slumped, though still the pressure did not alleviate itself from the two brothers. Arun’s heart beat like mad, loud enough he could hear it through his ears as he waited for Giratina’s answer.
“Is it done with its tantrum?” Pranav asked, staring at the bound creature.
“For now.”
“Good. Then tell it this. Tell it we’re going to destroy those red chains so that Cyrus can’t get his hands on them. But in turn we’ll give him the actual blueprints to make it, which he won’t be able to do right away.”
“Because he needs the Lake Trio.” Arun guessed.
“Exactly. Which won’t happen until the end of the story, right?”
Arun concentrated, sending a wave of desire. We want to break your chains. We want to take the blueprints. We want you to leave us alone.
Images flashed in Arun’s mind, liars, thieves, humans. They’d made deals with his kind, and they suffered for it. Giratina would not be like its foolish family, wasting away trust on humans who did not deserve it.
This was going in circles, Arun sent a wave of annoyance. We can do nothing. We are small and you are powerful. What is the worst we can do?
More visions, this time Arun watched as a thousand mirrors seemed to appear out of nowhere, all showing different futures. This was its role among the trio, while Dialga and Palkia managed space and time, Giratina’s domain was choice. It was supposed to see the choices the new humans made, subtly influence their decisions to a better outcome. It saw all, it saw the good, the bad, the heroic, the evil.
But it could not see them.
Pranav and Arun, their choices could not be monitored as they were the old humans, they could not be influenced by it. That scared Giratina. What was the worst they could do? It had seen the worst of the old humanity, it was they who had created the mess the timeline was in currently. Its siblings had done their best, but manipulating time and space could only do so much. It was the reason Cyrus was down here instead of dealing with Chronos, as it was meant to be.
Anger. But you have no choice! Arun intoned. Take the chance with us, let us bring you back to your precious timeline, or watch your world burn! Choose!
Y̸̧̢̪̲̜̤̘͉̗̤͕̎Ơ̸͔͇̗͖̯̟̜̟̫̱̯̝̥̟̱͂̏̌̈̔̿̂̂̕̕U̸̢̠̙̞̗̝̰̖͌̂̂̑̾̒͗̈́̀͌͑̈́͘͘͝ ̵̱͓͇̬̳̩͖̻̈̈́́̀̏͗̌̀͊̑͐W̸̨͌̅̿͗̑̇̚̕Į̶͈̙͎̩̻͉̺͑̔̄̓͛͐̃̀̊̌͠L̵̡͍͔̪̳̪͛͛̿̂̿̄̌̊͒̓̇̂͘͝L̶͕̟̮̫̼͖͇̮͓̜̖̙̏̓̈́̈̐̐̿͝͝͠ ̶̛̰̋̍̀̈́̉͐̉̈̀̏̅̽̋̚G̶͓̭̓̂̀Ȑ̷͎̇́̽̅̃̂͐͗Ä̷̛̺͙̰̽͆͋̑͛̿̋́̓̓͌̑̕N̷̗͂̀́͒̍̄̚͝Ṫ̵͕̼͕̥̫̩͐̉̂͒̓́͛̿̚̕̕͠͝͝ ̸͚̬̠̠̜̦̜͈̝̟́̀̈́́̑͒̐ͅM̷̨͖͓̬̬̽͊̄̎͠Ę̶̨̢̨̹͉̙̫̭̜̰͕͎̍ͅ ̸͙͈̹̳̺̼̬̻̪̠̘͂F̶̡̢̨͈̥̖͉̦͙͚̦̟̹̺͑̆̿͒͛Ŗ̸̙̥͍̣̠̭̜̞̪̮̬̌͗͘E̸̺̿͋E̷͍̲͖̘̍Ḑ̴̢̗͔̰̳̥͖̞̝̔͊̈́̐̇̾̂͐͠͝͝͝O̴̢̐͐̂̿̏͛͐̋̋̆̒́̐̒͠M̴̧̢̢̨̟͕͈̭̥̗̣̣̲̆̓͜ͅ
̵̢̙̟̘͔̣̣̺̜̾̀̔̉̒̆͘͝
̵̦̭͌̉̆͆̋͆̐̎̎̔̓̚̚͝I̷̡͈̠̰̮̘͆̾͑̾̔͛ ̶̼̺̯̘͌͆͆̄̐͑̋̃̊͝W̸̛͍̯͆̋̑I̴̪̍̓L̶̰̲̳̫͒̇̍͊̂͑̀̆̈́͝Ḽ̷̻̳̤̰͉̠͚̬̤͓͕͈͉̻̅͒͆̉̓̄̾̏̎̚ ̴͓̼͖̙̻͇̹͇͓̀̈́̀̆̒̉͝ͅA̴̪̟̣̘̼͋͝B̷̟̻͈̣̝͋̑̈́͌͐̋̚͜Ḯ̷̗̖̦͉̭͗͐͐͑́̆̅͒̏ͅD̴̡͇̘̤̗̤͙̪̐́̀̌̀͘̚̕E̵̢̼͉̥̫̥̪̖̣̭̯̾́̓͆͐̾͆̋̔͝͝ ̸̪̣̌̅̿͂̿̈́̂̂͘͝B̴̢̢̘̼̻͚̞͍̍̊̄͌͜Y̴̭͖̘͚̼̘͔̙̒ ̴̺͓̳͕̰̝̠̱̖̑̒͋͌̃͐̓̉͜͜ͅͅT̸̡̠̺̮̟̯͓͖̈́͛͛͘ͅH̷̨̦͔̙̪͙̅͠Ę̵̧͎͚̖̥̋́̋̂̽̑͊̔͊̓͋͠ ̵̭̺̪͔̮̿̔̈̇̅̀́͌̓̓̓́̆̈́̚A̵̘̗̟̰̬̦̻͒̒̽̈́̂̅̅͋̿͛̕G̵̖͋̑͗̐̏̔̓͊̅̈R̸̺̼̗̖̱̤͂́̍́E̶͈͎͖̬͕̙̻̯̻̙̻͉͚̲͖̓̏͂́̈̒̏́̓͆̈̾̉́E̸̲͚̅̔̀̇͋̿͐M̶̢͈͖͎̟͖̣͕̦͖̙̰̱̪̀̈̑̒̓̀̂́͐̕͝͝Ḛ̸̛͈͊̈̈͊͒̈́̈̏̕̕N̵̲͍̤̯̰̬̤̺͓̟̩̜͊̌̔̓̾̏̃̏̒̋͠͝T̵̙̳̲̗͖̮̗̐̍͑͆̇̇͝
“YES!” Pranav whooped, a feral smile on his face, “IT SAYS YES!”
“Hold it.” Arun said, before sending a wave of concern. How do we know you will keep your word?
A final vision assaulted Arun’s mind, more real, more different than the last. No, it wasn’t a vision, it was a memory. Giratina stood side by side with its siblings, who stood behind their father. There was a tiny thing there, a human? Their features were fuzzy, but she looked feminine.
Thou shalt shepherd our creation. A voice that sounded like a thousand hymns sang from Arceus.
“I…I don’t understand. I thought you hated us?” The woman replied.
I love thee. Thou art the reason we are free. Thou shall guide the world in mine image while we eradicate the rats who bear thy likeness.
“How do I know you won’t come back for me?” She asked, “If you are…dissatisfied with my work, how will I know you won’t simply wipe us away and start fresh?”
Arceus laughed, and the world wept tears of rapture at such a beautiful sound. Words are power, my child, and mine words are the most powerful of all. I swear to thee, no harm shall befall thee or thy kin by mine hands.
Thus the words were spoken, such the gods were bound. The will of the world, the will of the words.
“...Will you return?”
My children shall. But I shall not. The stars have eyes, my girl, and the void grows hungry. Eternal war, such is mine duty.
The vision ended. And Arun was left gasping for breath.
Ì̷̧̨̗͎̲̳̯̮̦̦͔̺̦̰́͛̄̆̍̑́̎̈́͘͝ͅ ̷̮̤͕͓̭̹̼̖͖̹̭̇̏̃̽̈̍̅̾̈́G̶̛̟͈̮̿̑̂̚I̶̻̖̬̹̰̽̀͌̂͗̀̍͆͑̇̄̏͘͠Ṿ̴̢͍̩̝̈́͛̓̃͜Ë̸̯͔̯͎͕̪̟̹̬̪͈͔̻͚́̾̌́͘ ̵̡͔͔̙̩̰̪̝̟͇͚͛̉̍̾̾̿̔̿̈M̷͖̩̟̟̀̓́͑̒́͐̾̈̇̄͝͝͝Y̸̧̢͉̠̻̩̜̭̞̯̳͐̔̄ ̵̧̙̩̳̘̥̔̈̐̓͛͐́̓W̸̧̞͖̜̻̗͈̏̿͜͜Ơ̴̢̱̫͖̲̟͙̪̣̝̬̺͕̯̒̾̿̽̓̍͘͝R̵̨͎̣̪̥̘̱͎̓̃̔̆̌̈̿̚̚D̸͍̞͕͚̯͖͖͔̦̳̖̈́͛̉̃̓̀͝ͅ
̵̢̢̡̛̛̭̜̼̙̠̤̥̗̰͆͌͆̾̕͘̕̕͠
̸̧̛͋̏̊̎͊̑̈́́S̸̹̙̼̮̫̝̀̽͐̂͒͛͠Ḩ̴̢̠̗̗̳̖̩͖̗͍̖̇̆̀͂͆͌̎̆̕͜͝Ö̵̟̫̼̜̮͍̭̗̤̮̣̮́̾͗Ų̸̫̩̳͔͍̮͉̝̰̙͓̒ͅL̴̦͕̋̿́̒̅̀̂̕D̴̢̛̗̦͚̭̜̲̙͕̬̞͙̼͂ ̸͖̦̬͈̲̲̞̞͈̘̖͍͉̠̾̿̀͋Y̶̖͍͙͈̠͍̻̖͐͜Ǒ̶̩͎͓̞̬͕̤̥̯͍̇͋́̇̓̍̐̌ͅU̸͈̟͖̤̜̤͍̺͙̹̣̪̜̜̇͗͋̿͋̔͜ ̴̧̼̦̤̺̹͈̙͕͙̣̭̓̈́̋͒͂̃̽̈́̓̌́̈́͜͝F̸̢̱̖̯̫͈̑́̐͋͊͛͊̇̇̂͛͌̃R̶̤̹̩̝̣̯͚̣̹̰̪͉͋͜ͅE̵͙̮̜̟͕͉̠̝̹̬̗͐͑̏͝E̶̢̢̬̜̜̤̪͙̲̲̞̘͇̩͌̾̂̐̐̐̈́̊̍͋̈́ ̷̛̛̘̜̞͒͐͆̊̇̀̏̓̋͂͝M̴̢̥̖͔͈̈́̀̀͛̀̐E̸̩̓͑̅̂́̎͆̉̉͑͊ ̶̧̰̞̇͊̒̉͛I̴̘̝̪̮̘̊͑̽̌͌̋̈́ ̴̖̘̲̥̣̦͎̈́̓̌͊́̍̎̔͋͋͗̚͜W̶̺̩͎̜̘͙̜̟̳͖͈͔̜͋̈́̌̓͛̾̍̀̾̆͊͛̋͘İ̵̡̡͕͕̘̝̟͚̙́̐̈̋͂͑́͘ͅL̷̡̧̯̳̰̘͎̯̝͇̻̼̫͌̈̊̑̐̔̏̇̉̓̍͐̕͜͝ͅL̷̢͓̯̣͔̮̮͌͋̂̈́͒̀̋̎͒ ̴̨͉̻̰̣̓͌̆̿́̂̍̓̀̚͝͠͠G̴̳̀͌̍̈́Í̵̙̟̘͎̜͚̖̗̿͗̔̾͝V̷̛͙̪͉̼̮̯̊̽̃̍̄̎͝E̷̪̜͖̱͍̲̮̻̽̒̂̂̕̚ ̶̢̨̠̯͎͇̥̭̜͍̯͎̝̟̆̾͑̿̆̎̕̕͝Ý̴̨̧̙̺̱̖͔̰̦͎̻̦̗̅̃͜O̴̡͚͚̘̜̞͙͔̜̟͐͆͑͋̑̒̉͊̀U̶̲̠̤̝̻̦̳̼͘ͅ ̵̧̢͙̙̯̦̲̫͚̆̀̾͐̓͑̿̉̍̈́W̵̨̧̪̞͎̰͎͚͙͇͈̰̟͌̒͛͛̀̃̌̾̓̇̀̈́̚̚͘Ḩ̴̢̰͕̭̅͛À̸̺̞̬͒̓̑̈́͛̊̃̒̐̉̀̚͝͠T̴̲̩͍͍̳̺̼̙͖̖͙̘̞͙͌̈́ ̵̡̼̬̹̱̝͎̪̩̣̘͇̃́̓̐ͅẎ̸̡̹̮̬͉͍͔̠̫͍̘̘͚̎̍̿̿̚Ǫ̵̭͎̣̙̳̘̭̺̖̐̒͗͒̇͌̽̂͠Ų̴̡̱̼̼͙̖̠͈̆͂͂̆̅̌̉̄͝ ̷̧̤̞̪͕̤͇̝͉̲̯̩̅ͅṢ̵̘̹̲̠̖̦̠͌̐̓̈̍̈͒̓͂̎͑̋̒E̸͖͕͊̎̌̾͐̊̆͝͠Ḛ̴̬̠̰͓̤̲̞͙̂́ͅͅͅK̷͍͈̱̫͈̬̟̳͌̓͜͝ͅ
̴̖̱̫̘̮̯̥̖̗̈́̍̋̐
̴͓̼̬̝̹͚͕̎͑͜͜ͅA̴̮̟̜̹͚̗̻̼̖̬̾͗̅͗͐̈́̾̂̀͊̂͘N̵̥̣̳̹̠̦̥̤̰̤̯̫͉̈́ͅD̵̙̭̣͙̟̖͈̉̇̐̃̌̍͘ ̴̨̪̯̫̭̬͎̖͎̤̰̭̈́̐͆͐͐̅͑̆͗̅̉̈́̍͜I̵̡̧̩͎̭̝̼̖̝̙̺̳̠̝͗͊͒̕ ̶̭͐̎̋͑̈́̏̍͐̑̂̓̌͠͝͠S̴̢̥̦̩͉̙̙̼͙̟̥̎̐͌͘͜ͅH̴̡̺̹̱̰̳̜͓͉̤̲̼̖̍ͅͅÁ̶̡͉͂͌́͘L̶̥͓̟̙͒͂̓̔̔̉L̸̬̳͙͉̘͚͗̑͗̓́̅͆̐̓̾̒͆͘̕ͅͅ ̵̛̛̛̮͋̇͑N̵̨̢̡̛̖̯̙̫̟̰͎̗̥͍̈́̑̆̽̾̾̚̕̕O̸̢͈͎̣̺̬̩̝̰̬̓͛̑̃̏̇T̷̡̛̙̬͉͔̼̦̠̓̉̍̂̄̔̾̊͗́̀͜͜ ̴̛̫͉͙͕̟̻̠̱̋́̄͊̂͐̋͗̅͘͝L̸̮̫̝͈̤̭͑͌͐̆͋̇̄͑̓͑̚͜͝Ḁ̸̥̙̃͆̾̊͆̈͌̎̈͂̕͘͜Y̸̢̛̤̖͖͓͈͈̞̏̋̈́̑́̍͌̈́̽͘̚͝͝ ̵̛͈̜͍̦̬̠̜͉́̄̓̇̉̅̒̐͋̑̔͝Ȧ̷̳̖̗̪̩͖͓̠ͅ ̶̟̦̇͆̋́̋̋̈́͘Ş̴̪̯̞̱̜͉̹̺̗̗̺̔̐͛̌̍̌̅̐͐͘͜͝I̶̡͍̲̲͕̖͓̱̰̮͆̀͐̒͋̓́͒͒̆͊̽̉̚͜͜Ṋ̶̭͇͌͑̒̀̂͋̒́͂͒̄̋͑͠͝Ǵ̷̝̠̪̩͙̞͗̓̀̃͐́́͊͋L̴̢̬͓̃̾̂̀̀͐͂͒͊̚͝͝E̶̛̞͍̗̜͇̰͙̩̍̀͑͌̿̇̌̚͝͝ ̶̨̧̨̛̮̱̘̮͍͇̻̳̪̺̀͊̄͌͂̈̈́̋̌̆̕͘͜͝ͅC̷̨̭̖̻̾̄͘͝͠Ḽ̶̹͂͐͛́̿͆̄̃̌͛͂̀͝Ä̶̼̙̩̳͈̬̱́͑̇͑̌̇̌̚͜W̷̢̧͇̲̮̠̻͕͔̲̄
̵̛̠̋́͗̓͊̉́̀̆̚
̵̱͓̖̹̜̹͠Ǫ̶̡̡͈͉̭͙̰̗̜̣͈̭͈͈͑͊́̓͋͋̃͘N̷̢͍̲̞̣̱̖͌̐͌̂̇̌̉ ̶̡̨͎͎̮̘̯͙̠̖͆̒̈͋̆̈́̍̈́̐͂͘͠Ȩ̵̠̪̘̦̪̫̱͎̥̜̼̫͚͈͒͆͆͑́̏͛̏͛͛I̵̡̺͍̻̳̣͓̭̝̤̱̙̘̔́͑́̿̆͗̌̈́̊͆̾̋͠͠T̶̖̉̓́͋̑͑Ḩ̴͍̘̫̰͉̦̖̣̣͈̮͆̌̑͑̓͒Ę̷̲̯͕̐R̷͖̞̰̦̤̦̤͓͙̤̓͑̈́̑̊̀͊͗̿̆̓͋͘͝͠ͅ ̶̲̘̟̱͎̭̹̖͓̝̳̹̝̩̂͂͂͌̂̇̉̌͌͠͝O̴̹̩̫̜͙̤͊̋̓͗́̒͗͊̎͂̔͊͝͠F̶̗̗͖̃̆̅́̄͛̏͋̏͊̉͠͠͝ ̸̫̳̦̮̭̰͇̀̍́̃͂Y̵̡͇͚̥̖̦̪̻̆̎Ő̶̲̼̰̗̩͙͎͠Ú̶͚̝̺̼̑͗̾̑̊̔̌̈̾͐̀̊͝ ̴̗̜̬̩͍͔̋̄Ẉ̴̢̢̨̩̱̱̥̋̈̆̈́͛͘̚͝ͅH̶͚̗̮̩̭̲̠̄̈̆͊̍̈́͑̈́̕ͅĨ̸͚̟͉̋̓͗́L̸̢̳̤̹͔̝̯͎͚͐̍̓̿̅͊̈́͘͝È̶̲͔̃̎̌̒͂̈́̿̂̌̋̕͠͠ ̵̻̙̦̳̻̲̳̣͔̱̖̬͑̊͘͜͝͠Ḯ̸͔͙͈͎̙͚͚͜ ̷̘̱́̄̓̈́̈́͂̂͒̄̈́͛͊̿͛̀L̷̛̲͍̱͎͈̲͚̥̮̤̩̮͓̙̝̋Į̷̡͈̪̼̤̣̎͆̐̐͂͊̃̄̍̆͆̈V̷̛̹͒̓̓̀̏̍̔̑̽͑͝Ę̴̡̤̫͕͓̇͊́̈́̅͝ ̴̧̡͖̳̣̙̩̬̲̥̱̟͙̫̈́͛̍̇͛͂͂̂̄̈́̕
He felt the power of the words, felt the world recognize the truth to them, even if he couldn’t understand them. Pran could, however, and he grinned as Giratina drifted closer and closer to the observatory, until one single burning eye filled the entirety of the window.
B̶̧͈͇̖͉͚̖͙̜͚͆̋̃̂̽̾͘͜͠͝Ṳ̵̡͕͙̤̖̣̰͕̭̳͈̠́͆T̶̻̲̦̭̥͉̊͐̓͆̕ ̵̪͇̘̟̝͕͔̞̲͑̈́ͅṂ̶̨̨̛̅̐͑̀̍̈̓́͆͒̄̐͘̚Ḁ̵͖̟͉͉̹̦͎̤̺̙̍̿̃͒̐͐̄̉͐̈́͛̆̀K̴͚̻͙͔̈́̒̋̃͌̔̕ͅẸ̸̈́̊̃̓̄̅ ̵̨̹͕͉̣̩̺̲̇͊̈́̈́͑͋̓̍̕N̴̞̩̪̰̣̗̄͆̔͜͜Ǫ̷͒̀͋̌͐͛̔̿̄̈̋ ̴͙̯̫̟̑̈̒̌̍M̷̢̡̡̩̥̮͕̞̉͂̿̾̒̾̊͐̔͠Ï̶̢̙̱̞̮͖̖̙̫̞͚̩̝̚͜͜S̶̢̩͓͚͛̊͆̈́̍͗̊̀͋Ţ̴̧̧̥̻̼͍͙̘̙̣͇̦̓Ą̵̡͙̝͚͍͎̝̜̺͈̤̻͔̈́̔̽̐K̷̨̡̡͈̭͇̙̭̗̤̔̎̄̉̑̅̃̒͜͝Ę̶̄̆̏͜
̶̧̡̖̜̟̳̪͈͚̥͂̂̋͜͠
̵̟͖̥̩̯̺̤͙̣͋̽S̶̢̢̪̘̳̩̜͓̤̹̪̮͛̈́̋͆̏̓͂͋ͅͅH̷͉̣͂͋̌͘͘O̶̜̯̬̘̮͇̳̅̇̅̀̀̑̏̆̽̕̕͝U̴̦̗̳͛̓̐̓̄͋̇͝͝͠ͅͅL̷̨̪͍̦̱̫̞͙͍̳̤͈̦͌̃̏̓́͂̀̂̍ͅD̶̨͈̟̍͊̈̈͒ ̵̧̠̝̣̪̙̥̙͓̦̗̝̎͐̊̀̋̽̉̊̀́̄͜Ỳ̷̡̖͙̟͈͉̮͖̪̦̖͙̇̅͒͌͋̎̀̚̕͜͝O̸̲͕̮͇̗̖̳̲͎̲͛͊̇̀͋U̵̪̔̈͂̇̿̾̆̕ ̸̥̖̝̱͉̖̉́̂̈́͑͊̆̒̓͋͠͠D̸̛̜̲̈́͆̓͛̄̏́͛̕͠I̴̪̘͙̱̦̗̞̗͖̠̖͑̃̍̌͌̅̌͊͑̉͊ͅͅͅȆ̷͖̫̙̈́̈́ ̶̞̞̖̖͐͐̆͛̊͑͊̀̕͜ͅB̶͓̺͈̞͕̅̍͗̌̄̾̀̈́̓͛͑͝ͅY̸͍͉̽̆̾̌̓͌͠ ̶̡̭̜̺̙͖̣̝̥̻͇̀̋T̶̢͉͉̰͎͗́͝H̷̲̬̀̐̀͋E̵̢̢̺̤̗͈̰̬̦̼̭̼̓̀ ̸̨̦͉̖͊̐̑́͐́̂͑̑̒̽̿̅Ȟ̴̨͔͖̗͕̮͐́́́́̏͜A̶̜̭̮͈͚͖̦͈͔͔̰̼̹̺̼͌͊̌̄̾̀̑̓͂̏̈́̋̎̚Ņ̷̱͗͋̑̄̾̆̓̍̾̂̎̍͒͠͝D̵̛͓̝̗̀̄̃͋̑͂͒̇͜͝S̶̢̄̓̑̊̋̅̉͂̔̾͛̆̕̚͝ ̵̹̗̝͙̝̎̈̾̃͋̓́̊́̍̿͆͛͘͠ͅŐ̷́ͅF̷̡̘̪̟̥͌̈̒̈́͒͘ ̷̬͉̗͌̂͋̃̓̾̽Ơ̸̡̧̡̗̮͇͇̦͓̤͔̘̏̇̀͐̿̈́͠͝Ứ̴͚̞̻͈̜̠̬̓̍̈́̾̊͌͌͋͝͝Ŗ̶̢̠͇̘̰̭̮̞̬͙̓̔̕ͅ ̵̡̡̖͖̝̹̌̍͊̇̽͊̂̉͘̚͝͝C̵̡̺̠̞͎̏͆̉̽͘Ŗ̸̬̜̞̳̲͛͛̀̒͂̓͘̚͝ͅE̵̛̻̘̲̻͍̻̫̼̮͉͂̉͆̒̉́͗̌̚͘͘͠͠Ā̶̻̽̓͐̉̈͒̂̽͊̿̑̄͘T̷͚̪̻͍̻̮̯̦̤̖̤͍͊͂̈́͆͘I̷̢̨̧̜͉͈̣̒̊͛̌̏͒̈́̒͜Ơ̴̧̛̺̰̜̺͉̺͍̬̱̳̣͆̉̔̌̑̅͛̍̉̎́͝N̴̢̨͎̭͓̠̖̊͂͐͌̂͜
̸̢̨̨̙̩̥̖͙̠͈̮̯͉͛́̑̉̒̑̅̿̎͐͛͜͝
̷̨̨̼̣͕̼̟̟̯̮͋̈͑̇͜Y̷̝͔̯͕̋̋͂̽̕O̴͉̬̼͚͙̱͓̰͋͝Ų̷̨̨̣̳̻͈̻̳̇́̊̾̄̐̈͋̚͠R̸̡̢̡̦͚̮̼̤͎̅̀̀͜ ̴̨̨̲̼̘̍̿̈̊̈̈́̽͂̿̚͘͜͝Ş̶̼̬͈͇͍̰̠̄̽͐̀̊̓͂͆͊̾͂̕ͅͅȮ̵̡̱̳̣͐̌͊̈́͆Ṷ̶̗̺̹̳̙̩̤̭͉͔̗̀̏̐̓̃̒̅̔̓̚͝͝Ĺ̸̹̗̼̠̈́̇͑̀͆͊̈́̍̈́̐̾ ̵̢̛̻̠͇̥̪̻̯̣̂̄́͆̽̇̐̂̆̈́̄̿͝W̶̩̼̱̩̙͋̉͆͊̈́̈̚̕͘Į̵̨̡͉̦̳̥͉̭͖̱̏͑͐̋̈́̔̒̑͌͜L̸̮̯̇͂̔̎̋̂̔̈̀͜L̴̫̟̩̮̬̦͎̽͆̊̈́ ̵̧̨̨͉͓̪͚͍̺̤̦̀͊̀́̚͠B̴̨̠̯͍͚͍͓̮͕̙̰̎͐̈́̾́E̷̢̖͚̥͈͊̀͒͌͝ ̶̛̠̉̈́̓̑͗̈́͋̓̕M̵̡̛̫̥̺̼̼̗̰̮̖͕̯̈́̽͂͐̄̚̚͝͠I̶̯̗̞̫̦̮̤̫̯͈̹̙̳̓̅̋̆̍̂̔͌̾̋ͅǸ̵̹̀̔̇̂̄̉̈́̇̀̏̍͘̕͠E̵̮̣͖̯͙̗̯̤̗͗̍̈̄͒̑̓̂͐̀͐̋̚̕ ̷̡͍̖̱͎̫̖̞̐́͑̇̈́̕F̶̯̦͚̖̮̣̓̇̅͒̀̀̏͛̀͝O̴͚̹͚̘̲̻̐̈̓̋̆͊̆͘͘̚͝R̶̨͇̘͚̘̖͎̠̺̣̝͉̮̈̑͌̎̌͋̏͐̏̚ ̵̡͚̬͎̟̟̭̀͑͌͐͑́̐̐̀͐͌̀̊̚͜͝Ę̵̛̛͎͎̻̱̝̫̻̍̑̃̔̇͊͒͠͝T̶̛̙̦̭͔̩̫̖̠͎͖͙͕̠̞̺̂̒̈́̋̑̅̈́͊̋͐̕̚Ę̷̰͕̣̫͔̀̾́̓͛̉̐̂̀̍̒ͅŖ̸͉̼̜̳̥͈̇̈́́Ņ̷̟͎̫̤͙̬̥̝̀̓́͆̌́͑ͅİ̵͚̜Ţ̷̖̰̦̼̯̖̬̙̩͍̝̄͌͐̅̅̒́͜͠͠ͅY̵̡͖̳̭̜̖̜̞̫̘͘͜͜
Pranav’s grin faded to a nervous smile, “Hey Arun?”
“What?” He asked, concerned, “What did it say?”
“Let's not die, I'll keep it at that.”
“I wasn’t planning on it. Hope you weren’t either.”
Pranav let out a chuckle, “God no. I’m not quitting until I’m either fucking rich or the champion.”
“Then there’s nothing to worry about, is there?”
“Guess not. Alright then you big fucking worm, show us how we do this.”
Giratina begrudgingly complied.