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CHAPTER 314 - ASCEND, CHILDREN OF CORONET IV

"Bwuh."

Maylene raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Uuuuuh."

She nodded. "Uhuh."

"Cece…"

"Yes, I know you want to see her. You'll see her soon when this is all over. Maybe sooner."

"What're you talking…about? She's right here." Grace slowly pulled a hand up, trying to reach nothing.

Maylene quickly put it back down into her friend's sleeping bag, but relented. She'd seen enough of this to know that fighting the ramblings of a delirious girl was meaningless. "You know what, sure."

Maylene was in a predicament.

She'd been ecstatic when the cold had started to wane, slowly but surely, partly because yes, dying was scary, but mostly because she hadn't wanted to look at her new friend slowly get the life drained out of her, bit by bit, especially on her own with her Pokemon. Now that it was getting warmer slowly, Grace was bundled up in her sleeping bag next to her two Pokemon well enough to be out of their Pokeballs— or one, really. Electivire had suffered from the fight with Saturn, but less so than the others, and despite Turtonator's state, the dragon refused to be recalled, going as far as roaring at her when she'd grabbed his Pokeball. There was also that weird Meltan thing, but she decided not to risk releasing an unknown Pokemon without Grace's supervision.

She didn't really like Turtonator. Really, there were only two Pokemon of Grace's that she actually liked. Electivire and Claydol. Maybe Tyranitar on a good day. They all ranged from practically feral to psychopaths.

She'd had to painstakingly tell Turtonator that even though he found it easier to make the place warmer now, getting Grace to heat up too quickly could be dangerous. She'd known Candice long enough to have learned how to make people recover from hypothermia (really, it was basically a requirement for being one of her close friends), and all it would do was strain his already hurt body. With help from Electivire, he'd accepted after a few minutes of arguing. Honestly, this was why dragons were such a pain in the butt. Good luck trying to make anyone who wasn't their trainer order them around. Either they'd throw a fit like this one or just look at you like you were stupid, like Cynth's Garchomp.

Still, it was difficult to be that angry at him when he was curled up next to Grace with such worry. His tail was curved on top of her legs and he would dote on her while Electivire caressed her hair. It made her miss her own team… Maylene felt a surge of pain, deep within her heart, but she controlled it before any aura could flare up at her distress. They were fine, they had to be.

Instead of worrying, she placed one of her water flasks on top of his glowing shell, and she recalled parts of Candice's advice. Warm beverages are always good. Arceus, that girl could ramble for hours on end, but she took the cold very seriously. Tea would have been preferred, but the best Maylene could do right now was warm water while she listened to Grace's delirious ramblings. Most of them had to do with her Pokemon, friends or girlfriend, but sometimes she'd be fighting an imaginary battle or talk to some girl called Bella and someone she assumed was her Pokemon, Nightstalker. These would have been funny if she was drunk instead of almost dead. Nia was kind of the same when she'd drank too much, going from somewhat reserved to someone who just couldn't shut up.

Sometimes she'd remember Maylene was here and thank her for coming along with her, or forgiving her, so that was nice. Hell, she'd even called her a saint who was too nice for her own good, so Maylene didn't really know how to react to that.

She grabbed the gourd, which was scorching to the touch, but still felt like nothing against her palms, and gave it a taste to see if she wasn't about to burn Grace's mouth.

She couldn't tell.

She groaned and clenched the bottle. Being so strong was annoying. Not that she wasn't growing tired, too. Her shoulder where that shard of ice had stabbed her ached, the cold had nearly gotten to her own hands as well, and most of all, she couldn't hear anything out of her left ear. Granted, she'd hidden how much it was hurting her from Grace, since she knew her body could take it and it would just worry her.

"Hey, Electivire— or Honey, I guess," Grace's naming sense was really awful. It felt weird calling a Pokemon by a pet name. "Could you try this out for me?"

The electric type answered with a series of grunts and words she didn't understand, but that tired, thankful smile on his face was universal. One of the strange things about Grace's team was how vocal they were. Pokemon usually relied more on body language and pointing at stuff to communicate with trainers they didn't know. Maylene supposed a year with a girl who could literally understand their every word, along with the words of every Pokemon she had met, had warped their understanding of how to talk to people.

Honey poured a little bit of water on one of his fingers, which were bereft of fur, and he gave her a thumbs up.

"Thanks. I guess the metal just heats up faster than the contents inside." Electivire handed her the bottle and she looked at the grown toddler she had to take care of. "Hey. Grace, can you drink something?"

"Stop being so loud," she moaned.

Maylene chuckled and tapped a finger on her forehead. "Hey, don't blame me for the voices in your head. I need to know because your mask will be off. Can you drink? Warm water'll be good for you."

It took another few attempts to get a straight answer, and even then, Maylene decided to get another yes out of her. It'd be really stupid if Grace died now, choking on water after having made it through all of this. At least, though, she drank the water without incident. Seeing her face for the first time in over a day revealed that she was dangerously pale, and there was some dried blood on the side of her ear she hadn't noticed.

Was her ear screwed up too? Stupid. Of course it was messed up if hers was. Grace was just an ordinary girl. Squishy and weak.

Maylene grabbed one of the few remaining cloths they had and wiped the blood away with warm water before quickly slipping the mask back on. The air up here was thin, even for her, so it was best to keep it off only for a few seconds at a time.

"You'll have to eat something soon. I'll skip lunch… or dinner, or whatever it is. We were running low on food because of me anyway."

She sat cross-legged next to Grace and initiated a few breathing exercises her father had taught her as a young child. Meditation, he said, was the key to master her emotions and with it, aura, but they served to help her breathe up here too. It was Electivire, a few minutes later, that interrupted her. Turtonator had fallen asleep, but seeing as he was warming the surrounding area slowly but surely and was still listening to her, Maylene decided not to recall him. It sickened her, to see his crushed hands and legs, but he made it look easy.

"What's up?" she asked.

The electric type tapped a finger on his chin and spoke.

"I don't get you, sorry. Back in the day, they said some people with Aura could understand Pokemon because it's intrinsically tied to emotion, but not anymore." She shrugged and closed her eyes again. The stone floor here reminded her of the tough mats at her Gym— Legendaries, she missed her Gym, which was a crazy statement considering how she'd felt like she'd been drowning there half a year ago. Routine was what she craved, now. "If Cassianus wasn't resting, it'd be fine, but they are, so… yeah."

Electivire snapped his fingers and smiled before pointing at the backpack. She grabbed it and threw it with a one-handed throw, glad that since it was League-made, it wouldn't tear, and the electric type paused his stroking of Grace's hair to rummage through it. He pulled out a pen and a small notepad that the League must have shoved down this humongous bag. Electivire scribbled down a few things and then showed her the paper.

It took her a little aback. Not every trainer bothered to let their Pokemon learn how to read and write— granted a lot of them weren't interested in the first place, so it wasn't just on the trainers.

Thank you for being her legs and hands during that battle. Your very cool.

The grammar itself was… mostly correct, but the handwriting was horrible. She didn't say that, though.

"Well, one's gotta make themselves useful. That fight would have been a lot easier if I had my team." Her fingers traced the contours of the cave's floor. "It's the least I could do."

He wrote again. Fights like that suck. I dont like hurting people.

She smiled sadly. "Yeah. They do suck."

Good bonding experience. You two are friendly now.

Maylene guffawed and held onto her stomach because of how out there the statement was. 'Yeah, you almost died, but at least you're closer!' was hilarious, in a morbid kind of way.

"You were in your Pokeball, so you didn't know, but we were friends before that. We all could have gone without that fight."

Electivire paused, thinking of how to answer, so Maylene looked behind her. It was too dark to see Saturn's body, especially when away from the edges of the pillars which was where the light came from, but she could still see a shape flickering in the shadows. Bile built up at the back of her throat until her head whirled back around by reflex. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. She hadn't killed anyone today. She hadn't.

Mom gets a little crazy with revenge. The mountain would have pushed the encounter together eventually.

'Mom' gave her whiplash, but she elected to push past it. It was one thing to see Grace refer to them as her kids and another to see them reciprocate. "I guess. I'm surprised you oppose the revenge stuff."

Violence is bad, he answered. My first parents taught me that. Now I'm her consience and I have to stop her if she ever gets lost in it again.

'Consience' as in conscience. "Oh. Honestly, I thought you were all like her. Sorry." She asked for the backpack back, which he threw and she caught, and she leaned against it to rest her back. "Your first parents, huh? I guess parents always leave a strong imprint on their kids whether they like it or not."

Her need to handle everything herself, to work so hard, even her preferred style of battling, it was to impress her father, yes, but he'd also behaved almost the exact same way.

"Not that you're worse off for it. Legendaries know that girl needs some positive influences in her life… no offense to your other teammates. Or her friends. Or parents. Or, uh, anyone else for that matter!"

Honey giggled, and his laughing made his handwriting even worse. I love my family but they need me. He turned the page and looked at Grace, who was mumbling about her Dad buying the wrong kind of cake. This is embarrassing but do you want to talk about martial arts?

Maylene beamed. She knew from Volkner's Electivire (who was a provocative asshole) that they could get quite good at fighting type moves, and they had a good body type to master martial arts. "Oh, sure! Shinwa's the birthplace of most martial arts, and I basically know all of them. Is this about training or—"

He'd already been writing. I watch a cartoon called the Legendary Fighting Type and it's really cool but I don't understand a lot of the techniques. Kinda ruins the enjoyment.

What?

Oh.

Maylene deflated like a balloon. "So you don't want to train to get better at fighting type moves? You use Cross Chop, no?"

Dont you just hit people harder and win?

"No— what?!" Her back straightened. "A good fighting type will also have technique along with strength!"

Not interested. Sorry. You should watch the Legendary Fighting Type. This newest part of the show is…

Maylene stopped reading.

A cartoon? Really? She stared at Grace, sleeping like nothing was happening in her sleeping bag (she'd made sure to listen to her breathing by turning her head) and realized that she might have been more literal than she thought when she called her Pokemon children.

Well, nothing to do but to pass the time and engage with this.

—

Screams.

How many?

The squelch of flesh, torn apart. The crunching of shattering bones. The smell of burning flesh, tingling in her nose. It was all too familiar to Cecilia by this point. Her and Maeve's trek up the mountain had been marked by battle after battle; at least one per layer. Most of the times, the groups of grunts had been small and too weak. Huddled against their fire types to survive the cold like vermin desperate to survive through a coming upheaval. She'd studied the Great War during her childhood, and though every single tutor had a different take on who was at fault, who had won or lost, or there had even been victors at all, it was not the large scale of the conflict nor the politics behind it that flashed in her mind, in this moment.

She remembered the description of the great pits where bodies were burned to ash en masse. Grainy pictures in black and white of men and women with their Charmeleon, Ponyta, whatever fire type they might have, or even an artificial flamethrower, burning bodies without a care in the world, asking herself, how could one be willing to ignore the sanctity of life so?

Well, they weren't burning bodies, but the point was, one could turn killing into routine. It was not a good thing, nor was she proud of it, but it just was.

Oh, Cecilia was cold too, inside and out, even if the temperature had begun to rise steadily and warmth had slowly come back to her fingers and feet that she was still barely capable of moving. Without Talonflame, Slowking, and Maeve's Infernape and Starmie, they would be dead— frozen husks of meat shriveled up, their last positions no doubt having their faces begging for an ounce of warmth. It was Slowking's expertise in barriers and him keeping away from exerting himself in battle, that had kept them truly safe and the little heat they could get contained. Cecilia's Pokemon hadn't seen much fighting aside from supporting Maeve's. Her comrade in arms had asked them to keep their distance so they could save their energy for a battle that truly mattered, and so it was her Pokemon, who were beaten and battered. Her Infernape, whose shoulder had been torn so harshly by a Hitmonlee's kick that he could no longer move his right arm. Her Drapion, whose abdomen kept leaking green blood and whose tail had been frozen and ripped away by a Piloswine. Her Gligar whose wings had been perforated by darts.

Maeve watched those wounds happen with barely any emotion, though it was difficult to tell when her face was hidden behind a mask she'd taken from the same ACE she had looted her lidar from. They'd had to share oxygen tanks, and Cecilia did not know whether they would have enough to both reach the top or not. Cecilia cracked her neck and watched the few remaining grunts be torn apart by Pokemon who should have barely been capable of fighting, yet who still stood anyway, and she took in the beauty of this place instead— the sixth layer.

The terrain underfoot shifted from rugged stone to a carpet of silver dirt that sparkled subtly, as if sown with stardust, and a strange golden glow shone from the sky above, washing everything in color that could not be superseded by anything else. Their climbing gear, their Pokeballs, the skin of the grunts and all of their Pokemon appeared gilded. It was… quite godly, if that made any sense. It gave her a feeling that they were getting close, and Cecilia knew the light was coming from above, so the seventh and final floor of this mountain before they would make it to Spear Pillar. She could feel the hair on her arms rise at the thought of seeing the seat of such power.

This place was no barren wasteland, though. Trees, tall and slender, rose as taller than the largest Cecilia had seen in Eterna Forest and were covered in shimmering, golden leaves that rustled with the sound of… drums which shook her to her very core and made her somewhat self-conscious. They were not exactly like drums, but it was the closest instrument Cecilia had found. She had touched their iridescent barks a few times and it seemed more solid than it should have been. Like she was touching metal, yet she knew it was still organic—

"Cecilia." Maeve's hissing, distorted voice shook her out of the daze that seemed to take her every time she got lost into the looks of this place, and Cece stared at the masked girl. "There's… you might want to look at this," she said, waving to next to one of the golden trees. She recalled unconscious Pokemon— or those that were alive anyway— with her other. She'd regained her senses faster than Cece had. She was hardier, and willing to push through more pain than Cecilia was.

The Unovan's eyes narrowed when she saw what Maeve was pointing at. A shivering girl next to a Musharna with frost claiming her every breath. Her eyes were nearly sown shut by crystal-like ice and snot had solidified below her nose, but the strange thing about her was—

Her similarity to Grace. It was difficult to tell when everything was basked in golden light, but one could call them doppelgangers if they were generous. Her face was longer, and she was most likely a few years older, but she had… scars in the same place. Burns going along the left of her face, down to her neck, and below her sickening uniform. There were hints of cuts on the bit of her wrist she could see, which meant she have had the cuts all over her left arm as well.

Bile built up at the back of her throat, and Cecilia blinked. Her feet suddenly felt heavier in the cosmic soil she stood on. With each step she took, she carried a soul-crushing guilt that had instantaneously appeared. This wasn't Grace, and even if it had been, they had agreed on this; on what had to be done. It had been an oath sworn on the death of Justin.

And yet…

Cecilia crouched in front of the girl with Slowking and Talonflame at her side, and she contemplated asking her what— why she was like this. The grunt looked at her in fear, but she was too cold to even crawl away or run. Her legs just… flailed around in the dirt and her shoulder scraped against one of the trees she'd been leaning against. There was another beat of a drum, and Cecilia felt as if something was judging her. Par for the course, in this place.

Cecilia's jaw clenched, her feet shifted against the dirt, and she squinted at the girl. She agonized for a few seconds, but then decided on what to do. Turning to Slowking, she spoke, "Get her in here."

Maeve, who had been in her own Starmie's warmth bubble, tilted her head. "Your power's not back online. It should be another fifteen hours before we can get another grunt to guide us up."

Cece exhaled, her face unmoving from the girl, who slowly stopped shivering. It was still cold, but it was survivable. How pathetic, that their own leader had not planned to save them from the Pokemon causing the cold when he'd been the cause in the first place. "Let's see if she can help us up regardless."

Maeve sighed, and Cecilia turned to look at her. It was difficult to see her properly under the golden bloom. "You know we've tried. It never works. They're always—" she stopped and rearranged her mask against her face. "She's not Grace, Cecilia."

"Oh, I know." She chuckled dryly and stared at the terrified girl again. "No one other than her could be her, and though I admit her similarity had me hesitate." Her hand scraped the silver dirt below, and the girl yelped. She looked at the little grains stuck on her gloves. That guilt she'd felt was best buried for now to be unpacked at a later date.

Yes, she was scared as dozens had been in her position before, staring down their executioner, yet there was none of the defiance in her eyes that was in the others. That last hurrah, that belief that they would be reborn, it was weak in her. Cecilia knew how to recognize the weakness in the hearts of Men. The lack of strength behind a belief. She could see it within her like a Sharpedo smelling blood in the water and was conditioned to look for people like her to bend to her will. Her Musharna wasn't much better, though they were barely conscious and had also been affected by the cold.

"Here's what's going to happen," Cecilia said, voice smooth like silk and as diplomatic as she could make it. Her gloved hand traced the bark next to the girl's head. "You're going to help us reach the summit. You need no oxygen to breathe, so you won't be a burden. All you have to do is point us in the correct direction, and I'll see to it that it's a League prison that claims you by the end of this, not death."

The Galactic grunt answered with a meek nod.

Cecilia smiled. "Good. What's your name?"

"C—Clara." Her voice came out in a defeated whimper that was like a drug to Cecilia.

"Well, Clara." Cece stood, helping the girl up as well. It was difficult for her to stand, especially on ground as uneven as this and her hands still being so weak. "Lead the way. Your previous colleagues have had a… far better intuition on where the path to the next layer would be than mine, so I assume you will be the same."

Clara nodded with a gulp and placed Musharna back in their ball. "Uhuh." There were new tears in her eyes. Maybe it was from the fear, or perhaps it was because she had betrayed Team Galactic, but either way, they had to move forward. Maeve finished recalling all the Pokemon who were still alive, leaving them here to be recovered at a later date, and then stared at Cecilia for a long time. It was a glare, she understood, even when she couldn't see her eyes. Cecilia whispered to Slowking to separate them from Clara, who was still only a few feet in front of them, and he isolated their voices away from her.

"I don't like this," Maeve whispered.

Cecilia rolled her eyes. "She's harmless. She won't fight us or rebel, I can tell."

Lean into it. Embrace it. Become it. She had hated the thought of being her, once. Of holding this power at the tip of her fingers. Yet these past few days on Coronet had taught her to use it more than she'd ever wanted to. To recognize to smell weakness and to know who she could twist and whisper her words to, and she felt good doing it.

Disgusting.

Bury it.

"If you say so," Maeve relented. "Whatever."

She can believe what she wants, Cecilia thought to herself. Another wave of her hand, and Slowking ended the separation between them and Clara. She walked with a pronounced limp, kept fidgeting and used the trees as support, whose sounds was uncomfortable to Cecilia, but hopefully she hadn't been mortally hurt by the cold, or they'd have to wait to find another group…

Still, she was intriguing. Cecilia walked up to Clara and stared at her. "I apologize for asking, but where did you get those scars?" she asked. "Was it Mars?"

The grunt yelped, her feet shifting in the silver dirt, and a Vigoroth growled at her from a tree branch above, basked in the same golden light everything was with frost woven in their fur. Cecilia hadn't seen many wild Pokemon due to the cold, but a few had remained where they were and this Vigoroth had somehow survived the onslaught of frost that should have killed them.

Having recovered, Clara cleared her throat and shut her eyes. "You… you know?" She stopped to scoff. "Of—of course you do."

"I know she's obsessed with Grace." Cecilia noticed the girl flinch at that name. "And you're a grunt who looks like her. I'm just putting two and two together."

Should we not just let her be? Slowking whispered in her mind as he tapped her shoulder behind her. This is… she's harmless on her own. It'd be best to keep her in our camp and not torment her.

Maybe she should. No, he was right. She would, once she figured out a little bit more. Clara stayed silent for a good bit, probably wondering if she should go on or stay quiet and which was the best way for her to stay alive.

Clara glanced at her, but only for a split second, as if not to get caught. "You're… Cecilia, right? Your friend called you that."

"Yes."

"Commander Mars… hates you. She's always been jealous of her friends, but you were the closest to her." Each mention of her had so much vitriol injected into the word that it sounded like her throat was straining, despite Clara's meek voice trembling due to the cold. "She would…"

Cecilia let out a curious hum, synced with the beat of a drum coming from the leaves above that made her eye twitch. There was no uniformity to them, no sense of rythm, but they were still uneasy. "Go on."

"You won't hurt me?" The words weren't ones of disbelief at how kind they were compared to Galactic. They had, after all, killed all the people and half the Pokemon in her group like clockwork. Their groups hadn't even been one of the most troublesome ones. They were simply the words of a girl looking out for herself. Of all the grunts they'd seen so far, she was the only one who seemed scared to die.

She shook her head and finally answered. "No. Speak freely, so long as you keep us going in the…" she waved her hand at the endless golden trees in front of them, "right direction."

"She would rant about what she'd do to you when she got her hands on you, and sometimes she'd get so angry she'd start—" Clara stopped, as if there was something stuck in her throat, and she kicked a handful of dirt forward. "Yeah. Every day I'd beg the Legendaries for her not to think about you too hard."

"Could you not have surrendered to the League?" Maeve asked, still behind them. "You'd have escaped, given us— them a crap ton of information and probably gotten a sweet deal out of it."

Clara's neck and shoulders stiffened. "I—" Another pause. Cecilia figured she was considering whether to go on or not. "I wasn't sure she wouldn't send her Dusknoir after me. There was this boy, Émile Cartwright. She'd always gloat about how she got him in a holding cell." She nearly fell over, but Slowking held her still and helped her up before she could fail to hold onto a tree. They'd have to take a break sooner rather than later. "And I didn't want to betray the organization. I didn't want to betray Cyrus, because I— I believed in our new world." Her steps in the silt wavered as her convictions did. "I thought I just needed to hold on and that soon my life would be perfect."

"What changed?" Maeve brusquely asked. She was not one for patience, with Galactic. Neither was Cecilia, but there was a certain tact Maeve lacked.

The girl shrugged and answered, "When I was confronted with the choice again, I guess I— I guess I flaked. I'm scared. Scared to die, and I don't want Musharna to die, either," she sniffled, working her hands as feeling returned to them just like Cecilia was. "Cyrus will become an omniscient and omnipotent God, and he'll know I betrayed them, so if I can't get in, then I might as well, uh, I might as well try to prevent him from winning."

So she had only started caring for the world once her own well-being was threatened. There was no worry for the billions upon billions of lives— human and Pokemon— that her organization would end. She had suffered, yes, but she was still scum and a grunt through and through, and since she was wearing a breathing mask, Cecilia allowed her grimace to permeate across her face.

"How self-serving—"

Cecilia cut Maeve off. "Well, she's been through a lot. Let's try to be understanding," she lied.

It would be best to keep her talking, though it would be stupid of her to ask for everything she wanted all at once. She allowed silence to reign for a few minutes and retreated to talk to Slowking. Other than Talonflame and him, the rest of her Pokemon were resting in their Pokeballs. Arceus, her legs felt tired, especially walking in this sand-like dirt, but she had to push on. No moment could be wasted with the fate of the world and Justin's killer still hanging in the balance.

You'll need to take a good look in the mirror when this is done, my lady.

Cecilia blinked slowly. "Feeling bad for her?"

She'd already known he wouldn't have spoken to her in a way that necessitated more than a nod or a shake of her head had he not arranged their bubble in a way to keep what she would say to themselves.

Talonflame cawed as she hopped on the ground. Walking wasn't her forte, especially in this terrain, but she'd rather do that than fly so slow. Being chained to a human's walking pace when in the sky made her irritable.

"No?" Cece pondered.

Not particularly. She would have kept going had you not been there to threaten her, and she is a selfish person at her core, the psychic reiterated. But the way you're behaving as a whole is—

"I know." Her voice was resolute. She hadn't forgotten her promise to Chase on the shores of Falkirk. "But we would not have been able to get this far this quickly without me being like this. Desperate times…"

Desperate measures, he completed with a small nod. So long as you understand. Power corrupts.

"Please, Slowking. You of all people should know that I have spent countless nights thinking about that very dilemma. I will be fine, I promise you."

Very well. I believe and trust you.

Her mind stuck with Chase for a moment, and she wondered at what layer he might be on. To be honest, Cecilia was surprised they hadn't come across any of their friends. The odds of only crossing paths with grunts over and over were so astronomically low that she understood there must have been forces at play, here. Like when she'd seemingly lost her ACEs as soon as she'd wanted to.

She gestured with a hand. "Let me talk to her again. Gently."

They'd reached a clearing— though maybe calling it that was generous. It was an area of the layer where the trees thinned and gave way to a small, golden yet still transparent pond. And it was small. Tinier and shallower than your average hot tub, and from what she could tell, it was perfectly circular. A ring of golden stones rimmed the water, and it was just as smooth as Lake Valor had been, if not smoother. A bulky Persian who'd been sipping at the golden liquid hissed at them and escaped as soon as they noticed they were there, blurring away with a single leap and kicking up a billow of sand below their path.

Of the few Pokemon they'd seen here, they'd only come across normal types.

Maeve perked up when the Persian showed no signs of returning, and her Infernape and Starmie relaxed next to her. "Good, we need to replenish our water supply and I'm not going to drink Slowking's if I can prevent it—"

"Don't drink the water," Clara warned as Slowking let out a single 'rude'. "You'll never leave this place if you do."

She'd already been grabbing one of their empty flasks from her own backpack. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, we were forewarned by Coronet." Clara took a few steps toward the water and looked at what Cecilia assumed was her reflection, and she smiled. "You can look, though. There are a bunch of these on this layer, they're the only break from the monotonous trees. The monotony might be the point. There's little, yet it's beautiful either way."

Maeve put her hand on Cecilia's shoulder as soon as she took another step, but she shook her head. "She warned us in the first place, and she's looked as well."

"...fine."

She'd been paranoid since she was attacked by that poacher in Pastoria. Cecilia couldn't blame her. She approached the edge of the pool, which hadn't been frozen despite the cold. Yes, it was getting warmer, but the temperature was still below freezing.

Cecilia saw… herself, with her form flickering within the pond. She was without clothes or mask, so she could see her own face. She sported a bright smile— in fact, she looked so elated that she appeared to be the happiest she'd ever been. Her mirrored self didn't respond to her movements, either. She reached out, hand outstretched, and Cecilia felt compelled to do the same.

She did not, though, and her numb hand snapped around Maeve's wrist before she could touch the water.

"Shit!" Maeve yelled— a distorted hiss behind her breathing mask, and she jumped back. "What the fuck was that?"

"Touching is fine." Clara plunged her hand into the water, and it didn't ripple. How strange. "See? I feel no different. I don't get the urge to touch it, though, which is weird. All the other times, I did. Even earlier today."

"We'd rather not," Cecilia said. She glanced at her other self again, who was now frowning. "Let's move on."

"I'm surprised you didn't touch it…"

Cecilia looked at the Galactic grunt. "Temptation is the one thing that I've wrangled with for the past few months. But what's that pond about?"

They started walking again as they spoke. "I don't know much about it. Just that once you taste that water, you'll never want to go anywhere else."

"There are myths about fairies that trick you like this," Maeve warily said.

"No. This has nothing to do with fairies. It's beyond us— I think that if you somehow make anything here part of you, you become part of this ecosystem. It's all strange… I hope I'm being helpful? This is all intrinsic because our great— because Cyrus managed to make us part of Coronet."

"It was, thank you," Cecilia said. "Now, I have a question about Jupiter. How acquainted are you with its capabilities?"

Clara froze at the mention of Commander Jupiter like a cornered Rattata.

"Yes, then. See, I have a little information already," she omitted saying that she'd gotten it from the ACEs shortly after Justin had been revealed to be dead. "But someone on the inside would know more."

The girl audibly swallowed and stopped in her tracks.

"Do not forget the position you are in."

She shrunk. "But…" Cecilia loomed over her. She was far shorter than her, and only slightly taller than Grace was. "She was the only one who…"

"It will abandon you without a second thought. It is poison— a part of the same organization that did this to you." Cecilia tapped the left side of her mask. "And it didn't stop it from happening."

"It…?"

"Just tell her," Maeve hissed.

"I—I don't know much, I promise!" she squealed, waving her arms wildly. "We've barely spoken, and I only saw her fight a few times!"

Cecilia clicked her tongue, yet she persisted.

"Do you think," she began with a forming grin, her hand on Lehmhart's Pokeball, "that it would be able to resist a song that kills?"

—

"I can walk."

"Grace, don't be an idiot."

I bit the inside of my lip and ignored the irritation rising within my chest. Yes, my legs felt very weak and wobbly, but I'd already been out of it for the last… few hours. Honestly, most of it had been a blur. Flashing lights, loud sounds and voices who I could barely recognize and had associated with people I knew. It was shameful to have been seen in such a weak state, to have been so out of it that I'd hallucinated in front of Maylene, Honey and Sunshine, but at least I'd lived.

I knew from the way we hadn't died from the cold that the Hoarfrost had been beaten, thank the Legends above.

The fact that the League had succeeded was a huge relief that had me breathing easier, even if it had been too close for comfort, but the crisis still wasn't over, even if in someway, it felt like it was getting close. I could see Saturn's charred corpse in the distance. The dragonfire had left his skin blackened and unrecognizable, and the flesh hardened and shrunken against the bones beneath.

The tired satisfaction I'd felt earlier was gone, but I'd let Sunshine admire his work while Maylene had packed and he was as giddy as ever, albeit exhausted. The fire type bled away in a flash of red as I recalled him. He deserved the rest, and Coronet was no longer lethal without him to keep us warm.

I glanced away from the dead body. "What if we try—"

Maylene shoved the folded sleeping bag back in the backpack and closed the zip. "Grace, just get on your damn Electivire's back and stop wasting time." Her complaints had been synced with Honey's, who had spoken at the same time as her to essentially say the same thing.

I shrunk back. "Sorry. I guess I just hate feeling useless."

"You—" She threw her hands up. "Stop sulking. Honey, get her already. Gently."

Electivire quickly listened, grabbing me by the arm and propping me up on his back. He asked if I was well enough to hold on without his help, and I agreed for now, wrapping my arms around his neck and sinking my head into his fur.

"Thanks for watching over me," I softly said.

Honey said that it was mostly Maylene's and Sunshine's work that had kept me alive. He was humble, as always.

"Thanks, Maylene. For saving me."

The Gym Leader strapped the backpack around her shoulders and tapped her feet against the ground. "Well, I wasn't just going to let you die—" she paused, cleared her throat and scratched her arm through her torn gear. "Uh, no problem."

We— or I supposed it was Maylene and Honey— began to walk in earnest, using me for directions. There was something different about traveling now, and before Saturn's death. It felt like I was a part of Coronet again, as if it had realized that Saturn and his loons had tricked it after their deaths and it was rewarding me for my service by… returning to the status quo instead of giving me a little boost.

Capricious as always, but this was better than nothing.

When Honey and Maylene started crossing the first bridge I'd pointed them toward, Maylene peered over the edge and screamed out her name. A few seconds later, the voice came back twisted, like a pale mockery the actual thing just like what had happened to that Sawsbuck.

"Huh. Funny how that works." She cracked her knuckles and touched her left ear. "Hey, is your hearing…?"

My ear hurt, and there was a permanent ring that was starting to annoy me. Hell, I couldn't hear fully out of my right, either, but in my left, the loss was total. Luckily for me, Maylene was a loud speaker and conversation was still possible without many problems.

Arceus, my body hurt.

"My left is fucked," I groaned. "My right… well, it could be worse."

"Oh. My right's already—" Maylene froze and looked at me. "Wait… no. No." The word was full of loss in a way that was torturous to hear. It reminded me of our Gym Battle, and the sudden sickness in my stomach vanished when my brain realized I wasn't at fault.

"What's wrong?" I patted at Honey's back so he would let me down and I slowly approached her. She was tearing up. "Maylene?"

"If my right ear's already recovered," she said in between sobs. "Then it— I think it means my hearing on my left is screwed forever."

Oh.

I'd come to terms with that already, knowing I would worry about it later, but this was Maylene. She was an Aura-user, someone who basically never, ever got hurt in any serious way. Hell, she'd been stabbed in the shoulder earlier and was walking like nothing had even happened.

So to actually be hurt in a permanent way was shocking to her. Unthinkeable, even, but Aura or not, Pokemon were stronger than her. I limped toward her, suddenly glad I hadn't been walking because of how weak my legs felt, and I gave her a short hug while I patted her on the back so she could get all the tears out of her. It was weird with the mask on, but it was better than nothing.

"There are… surgeries, right?" I said, unsure of myself. "Implants, or whatever."

She sniffled. "Grace, surgery is fucking terrifying. They cut you open and stuff, I hate it."

"Yeah, but you don't feel—"

"I know, I just hate the idea of it." Maylene shivered. "Gives me the creeps."

"I guess."

She wiped her eyes. They were red and her lower eyelids were puffed up. "Let's just keep going. Get back on Honey."

"I can—"

"You can get back, yes. Don't think that just because I was crying I didn't see you struggle to take a measly five steps."

Sighing, I agreed and Honey picked me up after patting Maylene on the shoulder.

The next layer awaited us.

—

It was difficult to hum with the heavy sounds of Garchomp's steps. Cynthia had taken to piano when she'd first become the Champion as a hobby she could actually get into even when her days had been spent stuck at the Lily of the Valley. Easier to play piano than to go explore whatever new ruins had been found that year, which was funny because as soon as she'd gotten the authority to actually get clearance to access those, she'd been chained to a desk to work. The plan had been to create herself a theme— something to announce her entry when a challenger reached her, yet none had done so yet, even when the Old Guard preceding her Elite Four had attempted to throw matches to unseat her. Bertha had been enough to hold any challengers away, back then.

She had missed this. Her and her team in the middle of nowhere with no one to buzz in her ears about whatever crisis she needed to attend to immediately. Despite the situation being quite the catastrophe, Cynthia found herself in a better mood than she'd been in months. Garchomp treaded through the golden fields of Coronet's final floor, groaning in annoyance at Glaceon, who was sitting around her neck, tail swishing across the dragon's back. It was good that the cold was receding. It had been a gamble, to send Flint, Aaron and Craig without her, but it seemed like it had worked out.

Though the possibility of one of them being dead was not zero. Cynthia ignored the pragmatic side of her brain she could never shut down that immediately started to calculate which person would be the most expendable, which death would be the worst for Sinnoh as a whole, and not her own feelings. She'd deal with that when the time came, even if a pit of anxiety had been growing deep in her stomach.

Golden fields as far as the eye could see, yet a single archway at the center of this layer would lead them upward— right below the ball of raging fire that acted as this place's sun, and from which all light filtered down the mountain. It hadn't moved in the few hours she had been here, and Cynthia knew that this place knew not what night was. This was only her first time getting to Spear Pillar through the inside of the mountain, and the breadth of life she'd seen here had been lower than in the reports. Granted, Regice had been acting up, but this place was meant to be home to a plethora of normal types, along with a few dragons, fairies and ice types, and Spear Pillar being so close should have kept Regice's reach at bay, at least in the early stages. Instead, it was simply a stretch of golden grassland with a few hills and depressions thrown in-between.

"Nothing but grass, hm? We should be close enough, now."

Cynthia took off her oxygen mask, her hood, and shook her head to untangle her hair. Garchomp purred with a deep trill in her throat at the sight of her trainer's face, but her purring took a worrying tone soon enough.

"You're right, but something tells me it's supposed to be this way. It's like I said before. There are echoes of remembrance… they give me goosebumps."

Glaceon hopped off Garchomp's back, which the dragon was very grateful for, and rubbed the side of her head against Cynthia's knee. It was thanks to her, that Cynthia hadn't had to bother fighting against the cold.

"Not visions. Nightmares. The distinction is important."

The ice type laughed, an ethereal and distant sound she'd long grown used to.

Cynthia ran her hand along the prickly tall grass. "Oh, I know they mean something. Otherwise I wouldn't have been a part of this. I wouldn't feel the tug."

It had been subtle, at first. A barely audible whisper behind an ear. Now that she was so close to the summit, however, it was a veritable force that pulled her, as if someone had wrapped a rope around her waist and was guiding her to the stairway up to Spear Pillar. She had never felt this before, not the first and only time she had touched Spear Pillar with her own two feet, but she supposed she hadn't known about her predecessor back then, and the world hadn't been about to end. Cynthia did not like putting much importance on stories. She believed that its core, the world was a chaotic mess where individuals could break free of the chains it had imposed onto them. A fairy's reliance on a story was a weakness, a weakness that could be exploited very easily, because it made them predictable.

Either way.

This one? This one had weight behind it. The weight of a bloodline originating thousands of years before she'd been born. It had been Grace, who had first told her about Volo through Mesprit. His last name had not been Collins, as far as she knew, but he'd somehow had a child before going insane and deciding to reach Godhood, and now here she was, generations later, attempting to save the world where her ancestor had attempted to destroy it entirely.

Coronet recognized her. It had led her up, even after the Lake Guardians had entered the mountain, sowing chaos in every corner, and she knew what paths would lead to the summit. She'd slept a few times here, and she'd been wracked by dreams from Volo's point of view. Fragments alone did not mean much, but as a whole, they formed a detailed picture of what had happened all those thousands of years ago.

She had relied on the Lake Guardian's chosen, and they had failed. Twice. So Cynthia had devised a plan. A last-ditch effort to save the world, though she was certain it would entail some… problems in the long term. Still, better that than losing the entire universe.

"It should only be an hour away, now," she warned her two Pokemon. Three, if you counted Spiritomb's inactive state. They'd tried flying toward, both with Garchomp and Togekiss, but Coronet prevented them from reaching Spear Pillar from the skies. They had been forced to walk.

She did not bother asking them if they were prepared. Her Pokemon would unfortunately not be a part of her plan, though they would buy time for her if Cyrus got any ideas. She had an inkling the man had already reached the summit, or was close to it. Garchomp squinted at the sun and growled irritatingly.

Cynthia laughed. "Let's not pick fights with Godly constructs, shall we? I've had enough of that for a lifetime."

Glaceon chuckled alongside her, and Garchomp mimicked stepping on her to squash her head. The ice type bled into ice, becoming a small tuft of snow that reformed to Cynthia's right, the opposite side that Garchomp was flanking her on.

"A real question," Cynthia hummed, shielding her eyes from the sun as she stared upward. She couldn't see the cave's ceiling from here. This place mimicked the sky, except that it was golden. "Pokemon, or not?"

Glaceon tilted her head and murmured.

"It could be a domain holder, but I doubt it? Not much can get influence this close to Spear Pillar. If I had to guess, it'd just be a thing. Not alive."

Garchomp grunted with a shrug that resonated with the grinding of her scales, and grass bent under her feet.

"That's the beauty of it, isn't it? We don't know," she said with a satisfied smile. "And I think that's wonderful. The unknown, that is. It'd be depressing to live in an era that knows everything."

The dragon rolled her eyes.

"Come on. You used to be just as curious as I was. What's wrong with a little childlike wonder?"

Glaceon snickered and climbed back on Garchomp's shoulders. She was, as always, too lazy to walk herself.

"It's a good thing Milotic isn't here to reign me in, then," she agreed.

Alas, her carefree climb up Coronet was coming to an end. Wind blew across her flapping, dark coat and she passed the time by talking about the wonders of this place and Zoroark, which was a topic for another day. They were making progress, but he would be of no use here.

Soon, she came upon the stairway.

They were golden and almost transparent, albeit hewn from Coronet itself. She could tell from the way her feet felt on the stairs that they were made of stone. Their edges and state were still pristine, almost as if they were completely new. No dust, debris or cracks had touched these stairs, and none ever would. With each step, the sound of her own footsteps echoed off the clear stairs, a solemn drumbeat heralding her approach to the summit from which Arceus had crafted this entire planet. The trek up was endless and instantaneous at the same time, and like the first time she had been atop Spear Pillar and crossed that same arch woven in boney white, gold and green that needed to be walked through from no matter where you approached—

Cynthia broke down into tears and inhaled the warm air.

This was too moving for words.

---