
Chapter 1: Eclipse
There on high, among the gentle white clouds and against the gusts of winds, travelling the course of the Mist Continent, flew the Cerberus. Save for the escorts of winged Explorers that came from within her hold, she stood alone in the sky. Over the course of the demonic incursions that had plagued the world, her companions that had been forged beside her in the aerofoundries of Baram had been struck down. Her lesser sister—for how could the Hydra be an equal if she fell? —had been lost at the onset of the war. Alone stood the Cerberus among the clouds.
But none within the Cathedral Airship believed such a thing. How could the mighty Cerberus stand alone? Was she not aloft, beside the clouds, her temporal engines still blazing in righteous might? Did not Dialga's consecration still hold true, the Herald of Time's very roar the sound of the engines? Was she not teeming with Explorers and Hospitallers and aides within, readying in their journey to relieve the lone holdout of Cheris Town in the south? Did she not have the faith of those within and above the clouds, the hope of those across the lands below, accompanying her on her journey?
Indeed, the world was dying, and the origin of the rot that was consuming the seas and the lands having sprung from Mist. It was upon that continent, aged with history and misery alike, that the fabric that separated the bountiful world of above and the terrors of hell below was thinnest. It was there, over the flowing rivers and rolling hills, that the Hydra was felled in battle. It was there, where she fell blazing from the sky to the ground below, that fell also the hopes of a swift victory. It was there, upon those embattled lands where entire towns had fled from safe haven to safe haven, that many wondered if their children would see a better tomorrow.
The expeditionary forces of the Explorers could only be so many places at once, and wherever they weren't, where the local Explorers were all that could muster a defense, the pokémon there would find themselves lost should a portal to the infernal realms appear. Here and there advances could be made, the foe pushed back, but in grand sum the life of the world of pokémon was coming to a slow but steady close.
Oh, how could anyone go on living knowing this? How could hope exist if the inevitable truth was one of damnation?
And yet! When the light of day suddenly ceased, when the sun would be eclipsed by an obsidian cathedral up there in the sky, it'd be impossible for hope to wane; how could victory be anything but assured when the heroes of the world were upon them? At night, when the Cathedral Airship would hold the stars in her jaws and wear the moon as her crown, even the dreams of pokémon below would shift to ones of admiration; nightmares would be driven away, for how could they dream of anything else but the Cerberus when it graced their presence?
Some have even said—not merely the serfs and survivors but Explorers also—that a demon, readying to take their life from them, would freeze as the skies would darken, would look above at the Cerberus, and disintegrate into dust at her very sight. Weaker-willed demons, no doubt, but few doubt such claims. So was her very presence.
So it was the very knowledge that the Cerberus was coming, coming to provide much-needed relief to the lone holdout in the south of the Mist Continent, coming to prepare for an excursion into the unknown, coming to retrieve an artifact an Infiltrator claimed could be the beginning of the end of the war, that filled the citizens of Cheris Town and her outlying villages with that rare commodity by the name of hope.
It was there, in that city now second to Noe because of her own influx of refugees, that the countless pokémon gathered in the streets below, readying for when the Cerberus would blot out the orange sun. Night would come not for them, but instead, finally, at long last, for their infernal enemy.
Day was dawning, the sun slowly rising above the horizon, there in Cheris. The winds blew north, with unmatched strength and vigor, carrying the smell of salt and wonder from the sea. The Cerberus, said the couriers of the Guild Chthonic from when she first made way, would arrive when the sun was midways between the horizon and zenith of the celestial dome.
That fateful day was at last dawning.
In droves church bells rang out, echoing over the lands. Hope was coming, they promised, a mere moments away.
The pokémon gathered in the streets, their children held high above their heads, and a rousing cheer spread as the sun was eclipsed, blotted out from the sky by a black unyielding presence. Their hails were bright, electric, contagious; they would see that tomorrow would arrive.
"The Cerberus has come!" they cried beside laughs of exasperation. The Gods never abandoned them, not in their darkest hour, not when the Cerberus stood there among the clouds, for her very presence was certainty that the Gods still held creation in their favor. Their prayers answered, auspicious hope filled their hearts and poured out as tears.
The pokémon had readied warm meals in their ovens for the coming heroes, were weaving the final threads of fabrics to bestow upon their saviors, but all that stopped as they looked up in the sky and—with an awe matching that which was carried by the southern winds—stood beneath the shadow of the colossus. The surrounding lands stood still for a brief, infinitesimal moment as a shadow stood alone in the sky.
But that colossal shadow there, joined by clouds and facing fierce headwinds, that deep black which eclipsed the sun itself and threw the land below into night, shattered into a thousand winged furies, their demonic shrills carrying across the dawning day.
The Cerberus was still hours away.
Their prayers were renewed, wretched hope poured out of their eyes from the depths of their hearts. The Gods would surely not abandon them, not in their darkest hour, not when the Cerberus stood there among the clouds, bringing with her the Gods themselves. "The Cerberus will come!" they cried, mired by sobs of doubt.
Parents held their young clutched to their chest and ran towards safety, consoling their fears. A shout erupted, a call to find shelter as sirens sounded out, a call for Explorers to seek out arms, a call for batteries to be raised and to unleash whatever salvo they might have against that black, unyielding presence. The battlecry answered by the Explorers and auxiliaries was dreadful but necessary, held firm with resolve; they would see to it that tomorrow would arrive.
In droves church bells rang out, echoing over the lands. Hope was coming, they promised, a mere moments away.
Chapter 2: Deployment
Jesper Kyd's Immortal Imperium
A noctowl scout returned, entering the center maw of the Cerberus, her feathers choked with ash. Her wingman did not accompany her. She relayed what she saw.
Moments later the temporal engines of the Cerberus doubled their efforts, throwing efficiency aside in favor of power. The ship was alive already, but the shuddering onslaught of energy which coursed through it made it seem as if it was born anew, the rhythm of the engines a double-heartbeat which shook the ship.
Moments later the calm, orange candles that illuminated the Cathedral Airship's interior all turned a crimson red; even extinguished wicks, long cool, burst to life with red flame. The Explorers within, knowing that landing was hours away, knew what the red lights meant.
It was not the color of a well-planned standoff in the sky, nor was it the color of landing parties readying to bring war to the demons below. No, it was the color of war instead being brought to them without a moment's notice.
It was that red light which appeared in the darkened quarters Talon and Perse slept within, that saffron glow which jolted the vaporeon awake and spurred into action. He sat up from his bedding and, realizing what the red represented, readied himself. First he donned his trusty musketeer's jerkin, the only swordsvee's regalia he was able to keep. He cared not for what it stood for but instead its history, how it accompanied he and Perse on many adventures, and was to accompany them on yet another.
Over that jerkin he put on his Explorer's uniform, a blue sash and a cape of stark white braviary feathers. This cloth was new, the mark of the Explorer he had just become, but as the cape rolled down his back, as the feathers caught the red light and turned a cool pink, he felt the two cloths had known each other for a lifetime.
He stood, ready, until he noticed that Perse hadn't stirred. Talon smacked his paw against his own head; his blind companion saw no light! Even now he would forget such things, but at least Talon took that as him regarding Perse as an equal rather than the truth of him being forgetful.
Talon stepped forward, prepared to wake him, but a gruff psychic voice was felt within the minds of all aboard the Cerberus, the sheer power of which Talon could feel course through him, enough to stir anyone aboard from their sleep.
'We are rapidly approaching Cheris Town,' echoed the voice, 'but we will not be received so easily. They are besieged. The portal's appearance was mispredicted, has opened earlier than anticipated, unleashing a flood of the damned into our world. Many of their winged hellspawn dare to contest our ship, our home. We will match them all.'
Perse jolted up from his bed, his knees buckling as he tried to find footing. Talon reassured him that all was well, that they were to prepare for an imminent battle, as the psychic voice echoed on. As it spoke how the Vanguards aboard the Cerberus were to go to their posts and prepare to defend their home, Talon was fitting Perse with his saddle. When Talon pinned to his own sash and to Perse's saddle the badge of the CLOVER unit, the instructions had shifted to the Explorers.
'—Hangars 1 through 3 will aid in the defense of Cheris, for all outlying towns have already fallen. Hangar 4 will deploy to where the portal opened, outside of one such village. They are to enter the infernal realm and retrieve the artifact. Hangars 5 through 7 are to—'
"Come, Perse," Talon said, paying little mind to the remaining instructions of the speaker, the duo's fate already set. After brushing the cool white fur that sprouted from his companion's chest, Talon guided Perse to exit their quarters. They were met with various pokémon running every which way, all under the red light of war.
A scowl appeared on the vaporeon's face. The massive size of the Cathedral Airship, for all good it brought upon those she carried and saved, made her likewise difficult to navigate for newcomers. Talon had, of course, walked the path from his and Perse's daily since beginning their journey, but that was not done under duress. Here, pokémon running amok, loud sounds reverberating through the halls and furious red replacing the serene orange, and he stood stunned. His heart beat heavily, readying to pump icy fear through his veins.
"Salutations, my friends! Are you lost?" rang out a familiar, anchoring voice. So confident were the words that Talon's woes all but dissipated. It was not in his mind—the psychic's final commands had been uttered already—but were instead caught by his finned ears. Perse, likewise, turned his attention towards a Shaymin donning a jacket and with a smile upon his face.
The white, green, and red pokémon was hovering over the countless others, a calm sight amid the chaos. While others were making their way through the passages of the Cerberus, Shaymin landed before the duo. "Follow me to Hangar 4, you two. My duty is to deploy alongside you."
Grateful for a navigator—and a familiar one at that—Talon nodded and followed the morale officer, but was quick to ask while they navigated the halls, "Why ever are you to join us in battle, Shaymin? Is your duty not aboard the Cerberus?"
"Indeed it is," he responded, "but nowhere is morale more important than when standing against our foes. Morale is where wars are won before our Explorers step foot upon the ground."
Talon walked towards Hangar 4, his tail dragging on the cool metal floors of the Cerberus. He looked at Shaymin and asked, "Is that so, Shaymin? Is that war being fought even now, here in the sky?"
Shaymin, both swift and playful, flicked Talon's ear before speaking with a grand voice, "Listen, my friend! Listen past the thrum of the engines that take us to war; do you not hear the chants of the attendants, repeating their liturgies to safeguard our souls? There in Hell, you should know, minds are as easily lost as lives. The words of the attendants here fill us with strength and vigor, their chants ones we can utter when all seems lost so that we might continue our fight.
"Do you not hear the organ reverberate through the entirety of the Airship, joining her heartbeat, filling us with the strength we might need to face our foes? There in Hell lies a bitter silence save for the cries of demons. The organ's song fills us with a music that echoes within our bodies, a symphony that can be carried with us as we enter their domain.
"Do you not hear all of this carried in the very air we breathe, Talon?"
A white, webbed ear perked up and paid heed to the surrounding noise, pushing aside the hushed prayers of individuals and the blare of alarms in favor of divine chants from choirs read from old, dusted books. He pushed aside also the scrapes of equipment against metal, of armor being donned, to instead hear an array of organs' omnipresent bellows echoing through the Cathedral Airship, all in sync.
The chants for strength, the organs of resolve, the beat of the engines like a battle-drum, the three's concert filled Talon with a renewed vigor. A tremor of shock flowed through his body, one which made his fur stand on end. He said, "I hear them, Shaymin. They feel as unmatched as the Cerberus, as unshakably part of me as my own tail."
A smile from Shaymin appeared. "Then you know, Talon, the importance of morale. And just in time, no less, for we are here."
An inspired Talon took in the sight of Hangar 4. It was abuzz with activity as final repairs were made to the Xiphos dropships and airborne units readied to contest the skies. The three made their way into the giant hangar, the red light still shining around them. At the entrance he saw the organists, one from each unit of the Hangar, playing the song. He recognized the alolan vulpix with the honor of representing the CLOVER unit, clad in the beige robe of his stratum, belting out a symphony, a reverberating hymn that followed him as they made their way into the depths of the hangar.
It was not long before Talon, Perse, and Shaymin had come across the mustering point for the CLOVER unit. Although there were many warriors among the Explorers, some had other duties. The minuscule ribombee librarian of their unit was nowhere to be seen, but Talon did spot their maractus priest praying over a nidorina donning crude steel weaponry; the vaporeon silently wondered just how true Glaceon's warnings of CLOVER being a band of misfits were.
All the other Explorers of CLOVER had mustered into the Xiphos, and now it was Talon and Perse's turn to join the rest. They turned to Shaymin who grinned and said, "My duty is with the ARCANE unit, but we, MYTHOS and you lot will all be deploying into the incursion zone, as you know. We'll meet once more on the surface."
Talon nodded and said, "Then I shall be seeing you below, friend! Safe landings unto you and our allies! Luck is on the wind!"
"I will be sure to relay that to your cousin and his apprentice," Shaymin called out as he flew overhead, disappearing as he was consumed by the red haze.
Talon turned towards the Xiphos-class dropship and was better able to appreciate its design. A miniature version of the Cerberus itself, the Xiphos bore a cathedral-like design that made Talon muse it was guided less by aerodynamics and more by faith. Nevertheless, the massive tower-like pillars on either side each contained an engine, clad in stained glass. While Talon first wondered why such a critical vulnerability might exist, when the intakes roared to life and the ground began to shudder he could see an ethereal miasma within ignite; it was the very essence of the Gods readying to propel them towards war.

"It was guided less by aerodynamics and more by faith."
Righteousness boiling within him and the engines alike, he was once more reminded of Shaymin's words: "Morale is where wars are won before Explorers step foot upon the ground."
Paws and hooves echoing against metal, Talon and Perse boarded the ramp where the musketeer saw the various misfits of the CLOVER unit were strapped in, at the ready. The vaporeon checked the badge of the unit that had been affixed to the blue sash that held his feathered cape to his thick shirt, ensuring it would work.
A raspy female, doubtless tribalistic voice rang out, "That ain't gonna work, newcomer."
Talon looked at a sneasel who had her badge affixed to a tattered blue armband. She said, "You'll find that you ain't gonna be able to signal for a recall even when we land. Interference from the infernal realms, y'know. Either you make it out on your own two feet or ya don't, and the badge'll only be used if ya don't."
Perse gave a snort of acknowledgement while Talon affixed the sawsbuck's badge to his mount either way. The vaporeon said, "My thanks for your knowledge... what might your name be?"
"Just call me Sneasel," she said as she twirled a shard of ice in her claws. Sneasel snapped it in two then glanced at him. "And I ain't gonna learn your name and you ain't gonna learn mine until you survive the first deployment. No point in getting all chummy with demonbait."
Talon scowled then leaned to Perse. "Odd ones are here indeed; clearly uncivilized and without manners, dear companion. I am not very fond of this Sneasel, I must admit."
Ready to depart, Talon wondered idly where the intriguing, airborne forces of CLOVER were, and he found his answer standing at the edge of the hangar. It was there where an opening appeared, where the light of the world slowly shone through as the hole widened and formerly blue skies that were licked orange by the fires upon the ground, that he saw various pokémon from Hangar 4 readying for battle.
He realized that the gaping hole with jagged edges the airborne forces stood before was in fact one of the maws of the Cerberus opening, and while the dropships were to fall from the floor below, those aerial forces that secured the ground had the honor of exiting through the mouths.
Talon's eyes focused on the ones he had seen donning the badges of the CLOVER unit, huddled together.
A corviknight stood alone, a flygon wore on her forearms heroic relics, the bladed horns of a haxorus from ages past, and a noivern and dragapult alike were swarmed by the latter's dreepy, loudly screeching in excitement for battle.
But in the midst of them was Talon's focus: a fellow eeveelution. He saw Rain the leafeon mounting a specialized saddle upon the back of her corvisquire partner—Cory—and climbing upon it.
His vision was interrupted by two more figures stepping aboard the ramp, an absol and oshawott, the former saluting to them all and saying, "Greetings, fellow warriors of CLOVER. I'm Java, and this is Gaius. Clear skies ahead. Ask me how I know."

"They once told me to go danger-close and burn the demons with our engines. That was the first and last time I was going to fly with the CLOVER unit."
Talon's ears perked up, and he whispered to a floragato by the name of Vine— anyone but that rude sneasel, really—and asked, "Pardon, but I was under the impression most units had assigned pilots from the Brotherhood Aeronautica. Is the CLOVER unit so blessed as to have our own?"
Vine smirked as she leaned against a spear covered in lush ivy and said, "Not at all, newcomer. The Brotherhood refuses to service us because of the maneuvers we undertake. Too dangerous for them, so we had to train our own."
The pilot and engineer shuffled past them, and considering Java's comment paired with the sound of battle raging outside, Talon realized Vine's comment unfortunately made sense. He gulped as the door of the dropship began to whir shut, as the engines doubled in their intensity and as the pilot and engineer readied for their descent.
Past the closing ramp, the last thing Talon saw was the airborne of CLOVER overlooking the sky below, readying to deploy. At the ramp locked shut, Talon thought that perhaps there was good reason there was no flying-type eeveelution, and he wondered once more how Rain managed.
Chapter 3: Descent
Doyle W. Donehoo's For the Glory of the Emperor
As they neared the open maw of the Cerberus as it drove ahead at full speed, Rain held firm to the handle of the saddle fitted upon Cory's back. The corvisquire looked down at the earth below, trying to see though the white clouds and grey plumes of smoke. The flurries, whistling by, carried the smell of burning homes. In the midst of it all the duo saw the psychic's call for all Vanguards to arms was doubtless necessary.
Airborne demons below who, in their feral rage, advanced towards the Cerberus were met with jets of piercing water, shards of stinging ice, balls of ravenous fire, and bursts of dark, midnight energy. These destructive spells were joined by countless other energies summoned by the Vanguards that were posted on the openings amid the exterior of the ship. Those noble Vanguards send down their elemental energies, and on behalf of their Gods sent the demons back from whence they came. The Vanguards were many. The demons were many more.
The Vanguards' covering fire was not enough. Hangar 4's airborne would have to fight their way down.
"I think I see a path," said the noivern known as Arrow—the eldest of all CLOVER's winged Explorers—observed the sky, the gales blowing through his white fur. "We cut through the demons where they're the thinnest, there at the right."
"Their numbers... they're too great!" cried Argus the dragapult. "Should we not defend the ship? Wait out their assault to descend safely?"
Arrow growled, "Our Lady knows the Cerberus better than any of us whelps, so she knows the Vanguards are enough to defend our home. We have a duty to retrieve the artifact and shut the portal, and that requires precious time we do not have. We must go now and secure the drop point, regardless of whatever stands in our way. Ready your dreepy, Argus, and not one complaint more."
As the multitude of dreepy stuffed themselves within the horns of Argus, the other three members spread their wings, letting the flaring winds carrying the sounds of battle flow beneath them. The turbulent air was thick with tension and the sounds of demons bellowing their terrible cries as they advanced towards the Cerberus.
"Attack without mercy, for they will show us none. Come now; luck is on the wind," Arrow said as he took a bound forward, caught the air, and dove downwards. Rain held on tight as Cory did the same, and in a moment they were falling towards the ground.
The rest of the airborne CLOVER unit followed the path Arrow made with his screeches of sound that blasted the demons from the sky. Cory tucked in his wings and Rain hugged him as they dove hard, plummeting to their drop point.
In spite of the support from the Vanguards above, in spite of Arrow's attacks, still their cover was not enough. The rest had no choice but to clear the path themselves.
Argus sheathed himself in an ethereal, inky energy and, like a phantom, he dove into a winged demon that was a mockery of a braviary. The foe let out a long, dreary howl as it was sundered, the remnants of its body dissipating into dust and scattering in the sky.
Cory and Rain, likewise, took defensive measures. As they dove, a foul imitation of a salamence, its crescent wings encasing the tired sun, nearly tore into them and dared to make a second pass. Rain let energy bubble up within her and summoned a bright, five pronged star of normal-type energy. She expelled it, aiming not where the salamence was but where it would be.
It was a bullseye, the swift bursting upon contact with the demon and causing it to lose its steady flight. With air whistling by, Cory took the initiative and engaged it midair. Contact was heavy, and were it not for her harness Rain might've been thrown off the corvisquire as Cory dug his talons into the creature's hide and pecked at the beast, eliciting a howl. A second demon sought to intervene, but another flurry of stars from Rain forced it away as they plummeted towards the ground.
The demon's bellows were not cries of agony but instead mindless roars seeking blood; a triumphant final peck from Cory silenced it. A blinding flash of indigo prompted Rain to turn beside her as they continued to approach the ground where she saw that Rubinelle, the flygon, had siphoned her draconic energy into her dual blades. Indigo energy sharpening the haxorus axes she wore as bracers, she cut through an intercepting vibrava with a bright flourish, shattering it into pieces.
Not all were so fortunate. A loud, bellowing caw enticed Rain to look back and see that Corviknight—the largest but slowest of them—was descending fast, but not of his own accord. His size and speed made him a prime target for the winged demons and many latched onto him, forcing him into a death spiral.
A flash of Corviknight's steel wings here and a series of drill pecks there each drove off a demon, but for each that fell two more took its place and continued assaulting the unyielding Explorer, causing his cries of pain to echo louder than the demon's mindless screeching as they tore at his steel hide.
Arrow flapped his wings and tried to slow his descent—it'd be too risky for Cory to make such a maneuver with Rain on his back—and Rubinelle likewise tried to change her course to assist Corviknight, but it was too late; another shrilling cry was one that they had all heard too often, a gasping, wet shriek only ever the result of a fatal blow being struck.
Corviknight knew he was soon to be embraced by Yvetal's wings. He had no intention of doing so alone. With the last bits of fury within him, he enveloped himself in a windy, sky-blue energy. With so much speed that a shockwave shattered the surrounding clouds, with such a screech that made envious the noble engines of the Xiphos dropships when they roared to life, Corviknight enveloped his attackers and himself and careened towards the earth below.
He was a blur of his black sheen and the sickly grey of the demons as he dove past by his allies, his final caw serving as an echoing battlecry. The rest of the CLOVER unit's airborne followed the path the blur carved as he fell from above, each demon he struck joining him as Corviknight drove them back to Hell. The path was now clear. With grim silence, however, the rest of them knew Corviknight wouldn't be waiting for them when they landed.
Rain hugged Cory as they dove, the lower atmosphere nearly clear of the clouds of demons. While the winds irritated her vision, it was something she was used to by now. Still, tears streamed from her eyes, the droplets falling toward the sky.
Cory flapped his wings only once, relying on a demon on the ground to help slow his descent. His talons crushed it into the ground in one fell swoop, the creature's shallow struggles silenced by a well-placed peck.
Rain stepped off and looked around them; two large demons were heading their way. She glanced back and saw their comrades were already engaging other approaching demons, so they were on their own.
"Cory, I'll take the one on the right," said Rain, stepping down from the bird and landing upon the ash-laden ground on all fours, letting the grass-type energy within her surge.
Cory puffed up his feathers and beat his wings. "Sure, but just know that means there's only one left for me."
Rain rolled her eyes as she dashed forward to her target, a shambling demon that resembled a delphox. Its white glowing eyes turned as red as fire as a crimson heat grew around a stick it held.
Still, Rain pressed towards her foe, the dust and ash beneath her paws kicking up behind her. The fire coalesced into a flaming orb of rage, and with a flick of the wand the mass was released towards the leafeon.
She jumped to the side, losing her momentum but sparing herself from the slew of heat that pressed against her, singing the tip of her ear.
She winced but moved on, calling forth as much speed as she could and redirecting her energy into the crescent-shaped leaf on her forehead.
"I might not be a swordsvee," she whispered as the leaf glowed a brilliant and holy white. Rain leapt up to the sky and slashed with her head, severing the delphox from the claw that held the stick.
"But there's a reason I don't need to be. It's built in," she explained to the demon. It gave no response except for a feral yell, charging towards her. A psychic energy appeared on its head, sprouting like a helmet adorned with tauros horns, and it tried to headbutt Rain. Not a moment to lose, she met it with her own leafblade.
The force from her parry nearly made Rain lose her footing as the delphox likewise stumbled backwards, but the psychic energy from the demon fell upon her. Terrible, otherworldly screeches suddenly tore at her mind from within. She closed her eyes and stepped back, chanting with vigor the words which filled her heart with hope and determination while in Hangar 4. It drove out the false words of the fiend and Rain reopened her eyes to see the delphox likewise staggering up.
The ground, laden with ash, was thrown up as Rain leapt forward, her lofty bounds jubilant as she could sense the warmth of a Victini's smile grace her. Rain's leafblade severed the demon from its head, and both fell to the floor where the dust joined the ash. Cory appeared beside her, a small cut visible on his wing. A grim silence fell over them.
Then, a shadow appeared, and both Rain and Cory looked up, only to see a battered Arrow hovering over them, his eyes and ears both straining.
"Glad to hear that you two are fine. Sweep this... town," Arrow said, though his hesitation to call this place a town was understandable. "If we're secure, I'll send the signal."
After an acknowledgement Rain walked, her paws crunching over the pebbles and dust of rubble; she looked about, inspecting the interior of the only building remaining: a church whose steeple had fallen over, stones and bricks splayed upon the ground outside. She walked in and looked around; survivors would no doubt have sought shelter here. The church would shield not only their bodies, but their souls as well.
Two Explorer badges—ones from the local guild—were upon the floor at the entrance, from where the doors had been torn open, the barricade shattered. Below them were scratches and scorch marks from uncontrolled elemental energy. From where the badges lay on the floor all the way back towards the wall at the end of the church, the markings grew with both desperation and rapacity until the former ceased. The voracious scratch marks, on the other hand, reached their zenith against walls stained red. There were no bodies.
Her stomach tied into a knot. She stepped out and called out to Cory. Within a heartbeat the corvisquire flew overhead and squawked that all was clear for him.
"All's clear as well," Rain responded, unable to help glancing back at the church. Vitriol rose in her voice. "All's clear so that we might repay these demons tenfold for what they've done to us."
Cory recognized the anger in her voice and decided it would be best to not joke at the moment, instead flying off to inform Arrow. Rain was, for a moment, left alone amid the rubble and ruins outside. She walked amid the former town square, where distant winds which came from over the sea carried the smell of salt, the echoing of bells, and the sounds of battle. Her ears perked up; Cheris Town still stood, it seemed.
As she walked, Rain came upon what was once a garden, where the various regional flowers had likely been grown and been the pride of some gardener well before Hell forced its way into this little village, where the battle ended before they could arrive.
Rain's eyes settled on a flower, a single wilting bud whose four, purple petals stuck out from the diseased ground like a light in the depths of a cave; it was a beacon to those who were fortunate enough to see it that darkness has not yet won.
The flower would die, she knew, for the soil was ruined. Rain, then, plucked it and put it into her jumpsuit, letting it sit upon her chest; it would live the remainder of its life with her. Indeed, she felt a connection with it, its meager life seeming to blossom as it touched the fur of the grass-type. At that moment a signal—a purple flare virulent to those who would dare oppose it—shot towards the sky. She saw a few more of the Hangar 4 flares on the near horizon, purple specks standing against the scalded, bleeding skies of the Mist Continent.
Sure enough, black specks far above Rain—beneath the now-uncontested shadow of the colossus that was the Cerberus—grew larger and larger. Another flare went up from the ruined village, but it was not accompanied by others in the distance. At this the three dropships that had been drifting apart realigned towards her position; it appeared their drop point was the most advantageous one to enter into the infernal realms.
Rain repositioned herself and stood alert as the rest of the CLOVER's airborne mustered beside her, with the other units' airborne forces rapidly approaching. The purple flower—an iris, she realized—joined them at attention as they watched the Explorer land. Their ships churned up dust and made a fog from ash.
The Xiphe landed, the dropships shaking the ground as if an earthquake had struck; a wall of the church behind Rain wavered, losing a few bricks, but refused to fall once more. All three dropships had their doors whir open, their gears groaning in anticipation to release the Explorers within, ready for war.
Chapter 4: Vanguard
Doyle W. Donehoo's We Hunt the Despoiler!
From the south to the north did the winds carry the sounds of raging battle, and with it came the scent of brine and blood, of steel and soot. Such sounds and scents entered the keen ears and noses of the Explorers who marched from the ruins of the village towards the portal to Hell.
For the right column marched the ARCANE unit, their emblem a purple lightning bolt whose color retained all the prestige of Hangar 4. The left column retained the CLOVER unit, whose infamous four-leaf clover forever tainted the other units' reputation for their Hangar; there was good reason they were not assigned to defend the city.
In the village the two columns departed from, where the full-strength units of Hangar 4 landed, remained the MYTHOS unit. They, who bore the emblem of a shield-and-serpent, stood vigil over the Xiphe, ensuring that any Explorers that returned would find working dropships.
And far beyond the village, beyond the leads of the two columns, approaching the perimeter of the infernal gates to complete a ritual, was a vanguard that numbered four. Talon rode atop his companion, Perse, who paid no mind to the act which many in this land would glance at. Although Perse had room for one more atop him and while Talon normally would have offered the seat to his cousin, Glaceon—Talon wondered why it was the custom for some here to go merely by their species name—his apprentice would have had to walk alone.
Talon glanced at Zorua struggling under the weight of the titanic luggage he carried upon his back, the emblem of House Evolution emblazoned onto it. The vaporeon could not help but wonder if Glaceon refused to ride because he felt pity for his apprentice or he would not want his luggage-bearer to be too far behind.
The breeze flowed, then slowed, slowly winding down as they approached the crest of the hill until it felt like it grew still.
Except, it didn't. There from beyond the hill rose a counterwind, and where they stood the two equaled out, creating a sensation of stillness. As they approached, however, it grew in strength, now blowing in their faces instead of at their backs. Gone were the sounds of war; no longer did they hear the sound of Cheris's bells ringing and her inhabitants fighting for their lives, the sounds of dropships providing relief against the great onslaught of demons. No, Talon heard nothing save for an eerie silence.
But that silence was only so for the vaporeon whose ears were acclimated for water, whose escapade with an articuno at young age wreathed his fins in a permanent and dulling ice. Keen-eared Perse, however, heard something more, as did Glaceon and Zorua. Immediately those three bent down towards the ground. Talon followed suit, dismounting with haste and as much silence as possible. The sound of his paws crunching against dry grass was deafening.
"What is it?" asked Talon with a whisper.
Glaceon matched his voice. "The howlings of a demon, cousin. Come, take a look."
They were right before the crest of the hill, and the four's sharp ears broke the horizon before their eyes did. Talon looked at what appeared to be a kommo-o, the typical gold-and-red plates an ashen grey. Still, the foul creature below took no notice.
"A behemoth," Zorua whispered.
"What ever is a behemoth?" asked Talon. Perse, in his usual quiet, snorted in curious agreement.
"Did they not tell you of the different classifications of the demons?" asked Zorua. Talon and Perse's shaken head prompted the wizard's apprentice to continue, "You have the regular demons that look identical to pokémon, save for their grey visage. There exist also... the Lost, but I am of the hope we will encounter none here."
"The Lost?" asked Talon.
"Weak, pitiful creatures. Less of a threat than a demon, at least physically. You will know them when you see them; pray you never do," answered Zorua, who took a moment to refocus his eyes. "Regardless, the common demons are the most... well, common. They are also mindless. Feral. They only have their instinct, and that instinct is slaughter alone."
Glaceon, with a hum that rang with excitement—something Zorua paid no mind to but which startled Perse and Talon both—propped open the large, black book that he took from beneath his cloak. He thumbed through the pages as Zorua continued over the sound of shifting paper, "The strength of a typical demon varies wildly, but the strongest of them is hardly a match for a behemoth."
"Which is?"
Zorua looked back over the hill. "What you see before you. Just as mindlessly driven by bloodlust as the regular demons, their appearance is as laden with soot as their lesser counterparts... but as for their size and strength? Both are unmatched by any individual of the hordes."
Talon peeked once more at the thing the very moment a sound echoed in the distance. The behemoth turned to meet the sound, its tail swinging madly about, striking a large rock and reducing it to pebble; it didn't even glance at the pulverized stone. Talon's eyes shifted from the daunting guardian that stood between him and the portal down towards the sword happily stowed away in his scabbard, the steel icy in his paw. A shiver ran through him, and the braviary feathers did little to stave off that deep cold. Talon asked, "It is teeming with strength; is there anything more powerful?"
Silence, a dart of the eyes from Zorua, who then whispered, "Leviathans. Archdemons. But do not utter even such titles. To see even a glimpse of the first to be overcome by dread, and to see the second is to meet oblivion."
The cold worsened and gulp made its way down Talon's throat before he said, "So be it. As for the behemoth before us, what might we do? We must proceed ahead of the columns so I can have time to perform the ritual and sense a Hellstorm's approach."
No answer came and all was silent, save for the sound of paper flipping.
The musketeer drew a breath and tried to recall the liturgies recited in the Cerberus. None came to his mind, so he instead recalled the reverberations of the organ that could still be felt running from his tail up to his nose. He focused on them and mustered up the courage to say, "So be it then. I... I will lead the assault upon that creature."
"No need!" came the loud declaration from Glaceon many tones above the hushed whispers Talon and Zorua had been exchanging. It caused the two to jump, and Perse's ears likewise fell back, startled.
The wizard stood up and stepped upon the crest of the hill, the only other sound for an infinitesimal moment that of his black cloak billowing in the wind.
Still in a whisper, Talon cried out, "Cousin, what ever are you doing?"
With a grin Glaceon, who shot a glance to the weathered, cream-colored page of his book, said as loudly as possible, "Why, clearing the path, Talon!"
As expected, the behemoth found the source of the noise, a glaceon standing upon a hill, looking down upon it. The kommo-o let out a howling bellow and began to walk towards them.
"Good," said Glaceon to the beast, triumph in his voice, "come here, you foul creature."
Talon was not unfamiliar to the sight of pokémon drawing energy from themselves to launch an attack; it was as inherent and natural to pokémon as breathing and walking. Indeed did the wisps of energy pour out from Glaceon's shallow fur drifting in the wind, indeed did they coalesce around the right palm of Glaceon's paw held above his head to the sky, indeed did they form into a ball of blue-white Talon knew all too-well was of ice-type energy.
But indeed was it different from anything the vaporeon had seen. Glaceon did not release it as a raw barrage of energy against the charging behemoth, even in spite of the sphere's growing power. Instead he uttered a chant, an incantation in a tongue unfamiliar to the others there beside him as he stood upon the crest of the hill.
While the wizard's left paw held the book from which he read, his right, still extended skyward, began to glow. No, the paw itself did not glow, but the ice-type energy within did. As the words were repeated, over and over, each time with greater certainty than the last, the color of the ice-type sphere began to shift.
A flash of green was followed by another, then a flash of purple and red, too.
The wind blew, but not from the sea behind them nor from the demon before them. It blew from above, as if the Gods themselves held the Explorers in favor. Talon looked back and saw it would appear so as well, for the sky had opened. The clouds were sundered, the whites and greys of smoke splitting and the ashen red of the sky dimming. The vibrant color that Talon had seen on the cusp of Glaceon's palm appeared in the sky.
Aurorae, waves of light dancing on invisible crystals high up in the sky, began their march.
The earth shook as the behemoth neared, each step shaking them and rattling its plates. But Glaceon continued his chant, raising his voice so that it could overcome the deafening approach. The energy in his hand, though glowing ever-bright, diminished, disappearing as it was expended. But in turn the aurora above began to flare and intensify, gathering at the center of where the clouds were split, directly above them.
The sky had darkened as if it were nighttime, the aurora at their full luminescence. The behemoth, now at the foot of the hill, rang out a shill cry as it ascended. Every step shook the ground further, but with every step the sky, too, began to shake.
"Caelum demittere!" shouted Glaceon, and with that the last of the light and energy in his right paw glowed bright. He slammed it down, onto the spell book, and with that the words upon it glinted a blinding bright before fading away entirely.
Another silence, for another instant, ensued. The kommo-o below them made no noise; nor did any of the four Explorers. Then, the wind blew from above to below. The ice crystals beside the empyrean had coalesced, capturing the light of the aurora and concentrating it. It was with the slam of Glaceon's paw onto the book, completing his spell, that the light fell from the sky.
A beam, its light the aurora themselves, descended from the heavens. In an instant the darkness that surrounded them was met with a rainbow light, and in an instant the behemoth before them was pierced by the beam.
It cried out, the typical roar of the kommo-o echoing with an otherworldly gasp, as it staggered back and lost its footing on the hill. Gasping at the hole in its chest where the ice-type attack had struck, it tumbled back, falling and rolling, each moment more and more of the dust that formed its body dissipating alongside the fading spear of light.
At the foot of the hill, all that remained was a small pile of dust and bits of plated armor. From there to the top of the hill where three Explorers watched the fourth with awe, a trail of dust formed a path.
The clouds returned to their location, the light in the sky brightened as night left and day returned, the energies of the aurorae spent in that mighty attack. No longer did the wind blow from above, now blowing from ahead, from the portal to Hell, but no adversary stood in their way.
Glaceon looked back at his apprentice, his cousin, and his cousin's steed. A smirk appeared on his face as he shut his spell book with a resounding thud.
"By the heavens!" cried Talon, "what was that?"
"Aurora beam," said Glaceon coolly.
"I have seen many before," said Talon, "and that was not one. I have sought to learn the move, and that is leagues beyond me."
Glaceon shrugged. "I confess, it is not quite a plain aurora beam. I have learned through a bygone master of my own that to channel the energies through a medium—for myself it is through the incantations of my spell book—the power can be increased considerably."
"Akin to that learned from a Talisman?"
Zorua spoke up and said, "Similar enough. And it's true. Channeling through the spell book is tougher than doing it naturally, how most pokémon do it. And definitely longer. Plus if you lose the medium you're basically powerless."
"But..?" said Glaceon.
"But," answered Zorua, monotone, repeating the words that his master had clearly drilled into him, "rarely will a well-prepared wizard find himself in such a situation, for a good wizard has won the fight before the first spell has been cast."
Glaceon gave his apprentice a pat on his back. "Good, you do recall. I have taught you well. Now, time for your favorite part of the training."
"Please, Glaceon—"
"We must advance. Zorua, my dear apprentice, might you please pick up our supplies?"
Zorua did so but let out a sigh also, knowing that his master's request was far more akin to an order.
They descended down the hill, gusts blowing in their faces, and Talon saw the source of the headwinds, the foul breeze that contested the winds from the south.
Before him was a shimmer of light, a flicker upon the ground, a discoloration where the green plains of Mist flickered into a dead, dried-out beige. It rose to the air, distorting the light around them. It was a large oval four bodies tall and three armspans wide, distorting space itself. But no demons appeared from the portal; none came to replace the fallen behemoth as all but this apparent guardian had thrown their bodies against the fortifications of Cheris.
The wind blew hard, and although it blew against them, it felt to the four Explorers that it was curling around them as it passed by, forming into grasping tendrils that tried to pull them into its domain.
But Talon had no fear. He said, "So long as you can invoke such spells, Glaceon, we have nothing to fear. If you can open the heavens so, if you can call down such an attack, we will be unstoppable."
Zorua, bearing a look of concern, glanced from the vaporeon to the glaceon. The wizard frowned.
"What?" asked the fish.
"Aurora beam requires a sky," came Glaceon's reply, "one where the Gods watch us from the heavens. The infernal realms have no such thing. My spell does not work below."
Talon felt, then, a pang of fear. "What of your other spells?"
"Lesser ones work!" Glaceon said with a smile, "Besides, I just wanted to show off. That one took a lot of energy so I could only really do it once, but the target justified it!"
Still, Talon was not a fan of the word "lesser" that his cousin employed.
Regardless, they had no choice. Their mission called for them to move only forward.
Chapter 5: Below
Every step they took the winds intensified, grasping at them while blowing the world away. Every step they took, Talon's heart raced evermore, the different stories he had heard from Explorers exploding in his mind. Every step they took, and Talon could feel Perse shiver, muttering that a good leafeon like himself had nothing to fear. Every step they took—
Talon stepped into the portal, into the shimmering abyss, into Hell. The world around him ceased to be, for even mystery dungeons, in all their mysteriosity, were still a part of reality. He had been to many in his adventures. Lost catacombs where the dead rose to safeguard their home, ancient temples which beheld automatons to guard the treasures within, those were comprehensible, reasonable, at least to some degree.
This was different altogether, and while Talon was between steps, between worlds, he ceased to exist.
But it was for only a moment.
Another step, and his pawstep echoed on cold stone. An inhale, and he smelled nothing. The winds blew against his fur, but the world felt deathly still. He grasped the metal of his sword and held Perse's neck; at least those, still, were real. That was enough for the vaporeon to open his eyes.
He looked at his immediate surroundings. He saw that he stood on once-holy ground; it was a blackstone platform, a gateway surrounded by ancient statues of watchers. Many were ruined but an indeedee, clad in honor and driving a sword into the ground, stood vigil over them. Talon felt no protection from her or the other fallen heroes the ruins once honored.
He looked up. The sky was not red, not filled with fiery brimstone as he had imagined. It was instead a tired grey. There were clouds, hardly a shade whiter than the sky, but they were sparse, distant, adrift and alone. This sky had seen too much.
He looked down. Ruined buildings, the cracked arches and stone masonry indicating architecture of the Mist Continent, stood over the plains and distant rolling hills. They were not toppled but in disarray, scattered at random and on the verge of toppling but not doing so; it was as if they were brought into this realm and froze from shock before they could collapse. These lands breathed a tired sigh.
A tingling sensation rose within. He felt he was being watched, observed. Talon turned back, his sword was ready to be unsheathed from its scabbard. Beside him were Perse, Glaceon, and Zorua, but their gaze was on the realm they stood in, not on him.
Talon looked past them, past the hills and clouds, and saw this world's moon. There was no sun he could see in the sky in spite of the light, but a moon stood above in placid observance. It did not have the familiar markings of his world, but instead had a dark rim and a light interior, like an eye watching him. It was pale and dead in color, but he could not shake the feeling of the realm itself looking upon them all.
Talon lost the staring contest, averting his gaze. This place, Hell, defied all reason; it appeared to be a corpse, yet it felt as if the hills had eyes.
And yet, there was a sign of life proper in the midst of it all, of familiarity that could be seen in his own world. As Talon averted his gaze he saw, there in the distance, peeking over the crest of a hill but before the distant stormclouds that the winds ushered in, a tree.
It was large and lush, reminiscent of an oak whose mighty branches nearly eclipsed the moon. It stood out among everything and, as the wind blew in his face while Hell stood still, he wondered if this, too, was a paradox. If it was the only sign of life he saw in this world, then surely it meant death. Even looking upon it caused a sickening feeling to rise within him.
By fortune and misfortune alike, his musings were interrupted when his eyes careened from the bountiful branches of the tree to the trunk to the roots below. The tree was far, far in the distance, and the mysteries of Hell made it as if it were immediately before him. But that was a mere illusion, and as Talon traced the path of the tree to himself, he saw a demon almost upon them.
How he missed it he had no clue, but an espeon—rather a demon that looked like an espeon—stood looking at them, hunched over and using a tattooed forearm to keep it upright. The bleached skull it had for a face towered over the vaporeon, the eyes that should've been empty wore an otherworldy glow that pierced his soul, and the black cloak it wore which covered its sickly, purple flesh billowed in that terrible wind.
"Heavens!" Talon cried as he unsheathed his sword from its scabbard with a metal swoosh of steel that garnered the attention of his companions. He held it straight and in a parrying stance, readying to defend himself, the wind blowing a little harder as he did so. But the world— Hell—felt all the more still, as if it held its breath, waiting to see how the encounter would unfold. It wanted blood spilled, demon or not.
His companions were beside him. Glaceon opened his book to ready a spell, Zorua took out his wand and pointed it at the espeon, and Perse dug his hooves into the ground.
It stood still, watching them. Its eyes looked over Talon, and the vaporeon wondered if demons could be curious.
"Vile creature," Talon said, whirling his rapier in the air as he willed himself to stand his ground, "come forth and meet your end."
The espeon, towering over him, snickered silently, revealing from behind its sharp teeth a bitten-off tongue. It soundlessly laughed, and while Talon had no clue if demons could laugh or not, he took offense regardless. His blade glinted in the dull light. The demon, instead, took another step. Talon readied to meet it, the handle firm in his paw, but stopped.
The demonic espeon glanced at Zorua and made a strange motion with its hands. Talon refused to avert his gaze or lose his scowl, but saw out of the corner of his vision Zorua drop his wand and gasp as if he could not believe his own eyes.
The espeon made the gesture once more, and Zorua, unbelievably, returned it.
"You," said Talon, redirecting his blade to Zorua, surprise thick in his voice, "you're in league with the enemy?"
"No," came Zorua's reply accompanied by offense from the blade now being pointed at him. "You've just been had. We've all been."
"What?" asked Glaceon and Talon in unison.
Zorua, still cautious, approached the espeon, and looked up at the massive demon. It made no move to attack as would be expected. Another gesture was exchanged, then a nod from the demon.
It started as a flicker, a trick of the eye, but the blue fire that appeared on the espeon''s face grew and coalesced, burning bright as it advanced. The entire espeon was soundlessly consumed by a blue flare, but as the blaze burned away the skull and ashen, purple flesh, what was left in the fire's wake was red hair and black fur, the glowing eye sockets giving way way to full, blue ones, its gnarled meathooks replaced by gauntleted claws. A jewel the color of its aquamarine eyes adorned its hair as it flowed down the zoroark's back, splitting the hair into two not unlike the tail of an espeon; two more tied together braids that fell from behind its ears.
As the last of the flames flickered away on the outstretched gauntlet, Talon still could not blink away the afterimage of the demon that had been before him. But his heart settled as a calming wave of relief washed over the vaporeon, for the tattered cloak of the demonic foe had in its place the regal, midnight-black cape of an Infiltrator.

"The Vast White offered Truth to our agents; an agreement was struck and a pillar of fire overtook them all."
"How did you know, Zorua?" Talon asked, eyeing over the zoroark that stood before them, his sword, however, still drawn.
Zorua smiled and said, "Well, it's a cultural thing. Some ways we communicate for those unable to disguise their voice well."
But even though the disguise had been lost, the zoroark refused to speak. Talon and company introduced themselves, told the zoroark of their mission, but the courtesy was not returned.
"How rude," whispered Talon to Perse, finally putting his blade back in its scabbard. "How uncivilized. This zoroark refuses to speak. As with that barbaric sneasel, this continent seems rife with the ill-mannered."
Talon ate his words and Glaceon, apparently having overheard, snickered at his cousin as Zorua interpreted the flurry of signs the zoroark made.
"I am mute," he relayed, "for in a pact I made with a Reshiram, I gave up my tongue for a true, perfect disguise; true enough to fool demons and to traverse this realm of madness in relative safety. I am one of the Infiltrators, we who would come here and scour this plane for knowledge, biding our time to return. I am the reason you are here: I know of where the artifact might be."
"Incredible," muttered Glaceon, "I have never heard of such a pact made in all my travels. What is your name, Infiltrator?"
Another series of signals, three quick flashes, that Zorua interpreted. "A-R-I. Ari."
Talon said, his hand still on the hilt of his blade, "Well Ari, it seems your exchange was worthwhile. You could've fooled me. I was about to strike you down."
Ari rolled her eyes but let out a small smile before signaling Zorua once more which caused him to laugh. "So you think, little fish."
"Hmph," said Talon, "well regardless, we are here to conduct a mission, and I a ritual."
Talon turned back at where he had seen storm clouds before, in the faraway distance from where the winds blew, beyond that strange, misplaced tree. He knew he had to focus on the Hellstorm, if it was to come and how much time they might have if it did, but the tree was just so... strange. Perhaps the Infiltrator knew.
"Ari, do you know anything about that tree over there?"
A shake of the head told him no, but Glaceon looked it over as well and, like his cousin, hummed in wonder. The ice wizard said, "I wonder what Rain would think of that tree."
Talon, preparing for the ritual, turned to him. Glaceon said wistfully, "Rain, you've met her right? The leafeon? Fine warrior, she is."
"But for a moment," came Talon's reply as he took off the cape of feathers, "I know she is partnered with Cory."
"Right," said Glaceon, "and she walks on all fours. I don't know how she does such a thing."
Glaceon let out a smile as his mind once more returned to that mission, when he first saw her on all fours. "'So undignified' I told her. She had the audacity to tell me walking on two legs was unnatural."

"We evolved twice, you know. First into all our eeveelutions. Second onto two legs. I guess you didn't get the second memo, huh?"
Talon's reply was quick. "Oh?"
"Obviously," Glaceon said, turning to his cousin, "I don't see—"
Glaceon stopped before speaking again, "Talon?"
"Yes?"
"Why are you naked?"
"I cannot perform the ritual with my tunic on, but I suppose I can wear the feathers for some decency; they feel nice against my fur and I doubt they'd distract me like my jerkin does."
Talon quickly put on the feathered cape, but to his cousin's dismay he got on all fours. The vaporeon spoke before Glaceon could and said, "Say nothing of it. It is a tradition that I must follow."
Glaceon made a face but, keeping to Talon's wishes, said nothing of his four-leggedness he was just moments ago decrying.
Talon looked over the tree, under the moon, and felt the winds brush against him. He sat on his haunches and closed his eyes. He needed to sense, not to see. His ears were tingling, alert, sensing and vibrating by instinct as the winds carried whatever this realm's version of moisture was.
He didn't know how he could sense the storms, but he just knew he could, since he was able to warn two towns of the incoming storm before. The first town ignored him, and it no longer existed. In the second they heeded his warning just in time, and that is what brought Talon to the Cerberus.
To others of the Skywatch clan, back home, they said to sense a storm was a calming feeling; it satisfied their purpose and soul alike. Talon wished that was the case for him. Here, though, it was terrible, and instead of comfort Talon found his heart pounding; blood rushed to his head and his tail went numb as a feeling of despair overcame him.
But he knew, by the Gods he knew.
He opened his eyes as he regained composure, stood up from his haunches and onto all fours, then looked onward, studying the storm. "Hm," he said, trying to analyze the feelings.
Two leagues away, plus the speed of the winds, judging by their sudden softness, their tendrils and gasps dying away, then...
"Three hours away."

"It was practically upon us. My ears picked up the torrent of hellfire closing in, and the rumble of thunder had grown fiercer as the beast finally brandished its claws."
Talon stood back up and, wind whipping about them all, turned back to Ari. "How many leagues away is the site?"
Zorua was quick to relay Ari's flurry of hand motions, "There are two—the artifact I am certain lies in one—each about a league away, from here, both away from the storm."
Ari knelt upon the ground and made three points in a triangular pattern, the first point being their current location and the other two potential sites. Talon turned to Glaceon and asked, "Dear cousin, you have been in this realm before. Can the units of Hangar 4 make it?"
"We march at a rate of a league per hour," he responded, flipping through his book, trying to find something.
Zorua interceded on Ari's behalf and said, "The site of the true artifact will be guarded. A battle will ensue. Never has a battle lasted more than an hour. It will be close, but we can make it. We must."
Talon nodded. "Must? How desperate are we?"
"Talon," replied Glaceon, "Ari's not certain of what it is, but noted it can help in the war. Maybe even change its course. They'd send us if there was only a second to spare."
Talon frowned. "At the very least, I am glad we are not so desperate in this war to send us to certain death. At the very least, the Gods watch over us. Do they not, dear cousin?"
Ari and Zorua exchanged signals as Glaceon was, for a moment, lost in thought, looking over from where the wind blew, towards the tree and, behind it, the incoming Hellstorm three hours out.
"Cousin?" said Talon.
There, behind the five, appeared the first of the CLOVER and ARCANE units, arriving as the vanguard to the main forces. At the fore was the meowstic leader of CLOVER and the delphox commander of ARCANE, and it was to them Ari relayed her information, also telling the delphox that she would accompany them to the more likely of the two sites. Still, Glaceon was lost in thought.
Orders were given, formations made, ARCANE and CLOVER both readying to depart the fallen sanctuary they mustered upon. Still, Glaceon was lost in thought.
The command to move forward, to make haste, was bellowed out, and although they all faced forwards and scanned the horizon for demons, more than one pair of eyes glanced at that tree in the distance, sharing the wonder and woe as to why it seemed to be alive in this realm of the dead. Still, Glaceon was lost in thought.
Talon could bear it no longer, and as they began to go their separate ways, he called out to Glaceon once more. His cousin looked up and saw Talon, riding atop Perse, ready for battle. Talon, concern on his tongue, said, "Is all well, cousin?"
"No. Look there, towards that tree, there in the distance," came the reply, "it's not supposed to be here, isn't it? The more I look upon it, the sicker I feel. And that moon above it, it is like an eye. Here in Hell, we have left the light of the Gods behind. I fear that something else watches us."
Chapter 6: Citadel
Kamil Orman-Janowski's Climb & Chamber of Sins
In spite of the name for the realm being Hell, it was surprisingly cold, made colder by the winds blowing harder, fiercer, the longer the invading Explorers remained. But the members of the CLOVER unit marched on, into the abyss, towards a chance at salvation. The march, at first, was without worry; the distant hills had neither eyes nor shadows hidden among them, the path of loose stones eaten by grass was once a road and, as if remembering its past, guided them faithfully towards their destination.
A stronghold, they were told, was the first site. It was a sanctum where knights and Explorers of ages past once gathered, among the first places to be lost, and with it a plethora of artifacts. It was unknown if they were scattered, destroyed, or corrupted by Hell, but Ari had made note that the aura emanating from the place was a sign of potential.
Talon, riding atop Perse, sword drawn, looked to his right, where the last of the ARCANE unit had faded away a half-hour ago. Their destination was a small village. While the stronghold was from Mist Continent, the village whose decrepit sign Ari read as "Serene" was a half-world away. How the two ended up but a few leagues showed how little this realm cared for order.
The wind blew, harder than before. It came from behind them, pushing them away from where they entered, bringing that Hellstorm ever closer.
Talon's ears trembled. He wondered if the ritual needed to be performed again, if that the strengthening winds might chip away at what little time they already have. Winds ebbed and flowed, but naturally they averaged out. He had little time to think more of it before the stronghold, its battlements rising as they ascended a hill, took full attention.
There, roaming the walls and grounds below, were demons that were double the number of the unit.
Knison, the meowstic leader of the CLOVER unit, called the attention of Arrow. The noivern obliged and landed beside his blue-furred leader, who said, "Arrow, we need aerial superiority. Take the airborne and lead them in an assault from the rear. We will raise a cry and meet them head-on."
A grunt from Arrow, followed by a bat-like chirp, and the rest of the airborne were taking off. Simultaneously, the other members of the CLOVER unit entered a battle-array, donning weapons and conjuring spells. Talon, mounted atop Perse, brandished his sword and told his companion to be ready to charge.
And charge they did, with a rousing cheer the members of the CLOVER unit ran down the hill, drawing the attention of the demonic foes. Mindlessly the enemy rushed out, not knowing they could surely defend the fallen sanctuary if they held the line. As they exited, strafes from the airborne force's attacks—Rubinelle's draconic slashes, Arrow's sharp claws, Rain and Cory's deft maneuvers, and Argus' accurate dreepy—thinned the foe.
The demons threw themselves into the spears and swords and bursts of energy from the advancing line, and in mere minutes they were no more than the same piles of dust that permeated the whole realm.
Talon, who had charged in and pierced only a handful of demons—Perse's crushing trailblaze had done most of the work—was feeling relieved. Knison turned back to him and the rest, saw their contentment, and sighed. "We normally suffer greater losses, and here we had not one beyond shallow cuts. We were fortunate enough to have them gathered in a single direction, and all the more fortunate that this site is not the one that holds the artifact we are here for."
"How can you be certain?" asked a gabite which went by the name of Sierra. She was caked in mud and dirt, having attacked the enemy from below. "The realm is never empty, but isn't it because of their attack on Cheris Town it now is? If there are foes here, couldn't this be the place of the artifact?"
Knison's response was swift, the male meowstic giving no time for wandering thoughts. "I feel no great aura here, I admit, and none so powerful that the Infiltrator could deem it capable of changing the course of the battle. Indeed, the aura here of holiness I can hardly sense. And yet so guarded was this place; we were just fortunate in the emptiness of the surrounding lands, for the battle-cry of one demon attracts all others a league away. I fear that the ARCANE unit faces greater challenges, and we are too far to aid them by foot."
Knison turned to the airborne and Argus shirked under his gaze. Much to the dragapult's glee, however, Knison shook his head at Arrow and said, "I do not know how well the skies are guarded over there, especially with the impending storm. Your task is complete and I cannot in good faith send you into the unknown."
"As you command," was Arrow's reply.
Knison turned to all others and said, "Our duty here is done indeed, warriors of CLOVER. Be wary of stragglers, but it seems there is good reason Hangar 4 alone was called to enter the enemies domain; it is nearly entirely abandoned. But before we go, however, chant for the souls of ARCANE. They are sure to meet heavy resistance, and we are too far to march or fly to aid in light of the approaching storm."
A chant, a prayer, and a moment of silence later where the only sounds were howling wind and shallow breaths, and the forces of CLOVER stood and drew their weapons. The battle was won, the citadel was theirs to loot, but still they entered with caution.
Talon and Perse walked through the building and, while most of their allies went into the bowels of the fortress where loot was traditionally stored, he guided Perse up the winding stairway, not wishing to contest the claims of others.
The soft sound of vaporeon paws against stone floors was nothing relative to the clack of Perse's hooves. Still, Talon was far from worried about an ambush; Perse's ears flicked every which way as they journeyed through the ruined hall and he made no alert. Talon stopped in his tracks when he spotted an entrance to a rising tower, a steeple that had surprisingly not yet fallen.
"Do you see that, Perse?"
"No, Talon, I do not."
"Right," said the vaporeon, "But it is an entrance towards a magis' tower, rising high. I saw it was partially ruined, but there still might be Talismans within. Should we go and search it?"
"As long as you guide me up the winding stairs," answered Perse, "we can."
Thus Talon guided Perse, leading him by the harness up the cobbled stairs, slowing extremely as they neared the top and the cracks in the wall became larger and larger. As they reached what should've been the head of the tower, they were greeted with the familiar dull grey sky of Hell instead of a roof.
Talon said, "Careful with your footing, Perse. The walls here are collapsed; this tower is open air!"
The wind blew fiercely as they were so high up, and Talon felt a chill run down his spine. He tried to ignore it as he looked about, finding a chest with the lock still on. With a single slice of his blade he severed it into two, the pieces clattering to the ground. He opened the chest and found what he had hoped for: a trove of various Talismans.
Ancient words of wisdom etched into a disc of refined and blessed metal, these Talismans held within them knowledge of magic. So made was the Talisman that one merely had to press it against their head and let the magics they held within seep into their mind; it was a relic of a better age.
Rummaging through them, avoiding those irreparably cracked, Talon tried to find any he could potentially learn, each time his paws caressed against them a vague feeling of arcane magic coursing through his body. He stopped when seeing one that had the color of the aurora as its metallic sheen.
Perse's voice boomed over the winds. "What have you found, Talon?"
With surprise in his voice Talon said, "A TM of aurora beam. But... something is amiss."
"What? What is wrong?"
Talon squinted as he inspected the Talisman, flipping the disc from front to back, then doing so for others in the cache. "There is here, on all these Talismans, a red taint, a corruption, alongside the regular prismatic reflection on this once-blessed disc."
His paws caressed the carved words, running along the grooves as he continued, "It seems to have been changed by it being here, in Hell. The words of this Talisman are where they should be, and I can read the words "aurora beam" etched upon it, but all else that follows are unrecognizable runes. I can feel the power from it in my paws, but I fear to hold this to my mind and let the knowledge within flow; who knows what heresy it might contain? All these TMs, I realize, are corrupted."
Grabbing it carefully, he tucked it and a few others of note into one of Perse's saddlebags. "We can take this to Glaceon and see if he knows. Or the CLOVER unit's librarian, for that little ribombee is small enough to see all the fine details here my large eyes might miss."
Talon stood and stared beyond the walls, a frown upon his face. Perse, though blind, knew his friend well enough to ask what was wrong. Talon said, "From here I gaze upon the rest of this ruined citadel, seeing from the holes in the roof below how aged this once-lost place is. It was here so long I wonder if all other artifacts might also be tainted by the misery that permeates this realm."
"What else is there, Talon? Can you describe it to me? The landscape from here. I can only feel and hear the howl of the winds, no more. I cannot even feel the sun's warmth above."
Talon looked over the hills and plains from the height of the tower and said, "There is nothing but barrens. The skies are tired, sunless, with only a dead moon that watches. The lands below are heavy with blood and sin. Can't you feel it upon your hooves when you walk? I look there, to our side in the great distance, and know that beyond the thick haze and fog that out there is the ARCANE unit, by good fortune recovering the artifact to save all of us."
He turned to the path they had taken. "I see, now, the road we travelled. From above it looks even more unkempt, but it does the job well enough. My eyes wander back in time, to where we have come from and where we will return. The fog, the haze, once more it obscures that blackstone site guarded by statues where we entered, but I know it to be there. But I see..."
Talon's voice trailed off and was carried by the growing tempest, and Perse asked, "See what, Talon?"
"I- I see..."
"What? Spit it out!" Perse bellowed over the howling winds, so strong they were whipping the loose papers into a frenzy and scattering them away from the ruined tower.
"There, a tree. The tree. Still through the mire of Hell that tree is there, its foliage obstructing that false moon. Why? Why is that abominable thing there? How is it still visible from so far away; why do the laws of reason cease to exist here? And this wind... it is strong, is it not?"
Before Perse could respond, Talon remembered his duty with a gasp of air. "I-I did not calculate the arrival of the Hellstorm with these winds' new ferocity. They have only grown more chaotic the longer we've been here, haven't they? These... these are no regular winds. Can't you feel how they blow, but also grasp?"
As Perse replied in the affirmative, Talon cast aside his cloak, then his shirt. His jerkin was taken by the winds, but his cloak he caught, holding it beneath his paw, fell onto all fours and focused with great intensity. The gusts, with a life of their own, blew at full speed, grasping and curling over his body, savoring the horror that washed over Talon's face as his fins twitched and shuddered with realization.
Kamil Orman Janowski's Delirium
He stood up with a jump so swift he was nearly carried by the gale. He was in so great a hurry that he donned only his cloak, leaving his shirt behind. He ushered Perse down the stairs with such speed that the two reached the solid grounds of the citadel with bruises on their knees.
"Knison!" cried out Talon, "Knison! Come forth! I need you. I have counsel!"
His voice echoed in the halls, to no response, and he hurried Perse towards the entrance. Still no one was there, everyone likely in the crypt below. He couldn't afford to waste more time. Talon let the fear seep into his voice, and he screamed. "Knison! Meowstic! Leader of CLOVER! We near an eternal night!"
He appeared moments later, flanked by CLOVER warriors donning spears and swords, the meowstic's body quivering with psychic energy. "What, Talon? What is the problem? We have plenty of time to gather artifacts before the Hellstorm arrives; night is yet to come!"
"No," said Talon, "we don't. The winds have strengthened, and they continue to strengthen. This is beyond my experience, and that of any scholars I have read. The Hellstorm now, it is unlike any other. It is dynamic... it is, I dare say, alive. It advances with haste and we have little more than an hour before it envelops the site where we entered from. It threatens to bring night early, to obstruct whatever sun doesn't exist."
Knison failed to hide the fright that washed over him, and Talon wondered if the leader of CLOVER was as infallible as he first thought. The meowstic said, "Then we leave now. I will have us go and secure the site of the portal, to defend it while we would await ARCANE."
Before he could relay the command to others he was interrupted by Talon. Already the vaporeon was straddling the harness on Perse, already he looked out to the distance beyond the entrance, towards where ARCANE was. Talon said, "ARCANE does not know. They would not survive the storm."
Talon knew not where this sort of courage had been mustered from, but figured it was dredged from endless depths of guilt he felt at having been so terribly wrong. "I must warn my cousin. I must let them know to escape while we still have time, to leave battle while they can lest they be annihilated."
"You must not go," said Knison, "your abilities have worth! You can help us in all futures, but if you ride you surely go to meet Yvetal."
"Can you send a courier? Linoone is fast; the airborne likewise can go."
"The danger is too great. Linoone is swift-footed indeed, but unable to fight. Our airborne would surely be taken by the winds, especially if your description holds true. My unit has a reputation for recklessness, not blind stupidity; I cannot send them nor do I permit you to go."
Talon brushed them aside, his feathered cloak moving with the dismissal wave of his arm. "Then I, as a free agent, withdraw. Oh, how I have failed! I sensed the storm, but I know not why it acts like this... something is amiss! Alas, there is no future for us if they cannot retrieve the artifact, and there is no future for me if I resign my cousin to a sure death; how could I live with myself otherwise?"
Ignoring the final commands of Knison to stand down, to stay with CLOVER and to guard the portal which brought them here, off rode Perse and Talon. Away from the fallen citadel, into the haze and mire of Hell they rushed, the winds blowing fiercely against them, ushering forth the Hellstorm. Talon glanced to the side, at the approaching doom. He saw the tree there, still, somehow.
Although the winds were in a frenzy, the leaves of that distant tree managed to remain on their branches. Anywhere else it would have stood as a beacon for the resilience of life in the face of damnation. Here, in this realm of inverses and untruths he didn't know. That sickened him.
Chapter 7: Rendezvous
The surrounding fog was thick, heavy, and laden with the sounds of battle, but still did Talon and Perse press onward, wind whipping upon their back and sides, with all three aspects of the fog becoming greater and greater until they came upon the ruins of a village, a fallen steeple piercing the haze, trying to reach towards the sky in spite of it being nearly collapsed. A siren rang out, far in the distance, as if warning them to go no further.
It was too late. A demon, perched upon the toppling spire, watched a battle that Talon could not see. Be it the sound of Perse's hooves or the drawing of a breath from a vaporeon, it didn't matter; the creature turned its sight upon them and, instead of attacking outright, let out a screech.
With that came straggling demons from the thick of the fog, some missing limbs and others with deep gashes. Talon, from atop Perse, struck them down, but he worried about the existence of wounded demons, for that implied their attacker could not finish the job. The demons were dispatched in a tiresome hurry, but others took their place, and it was only after a minute of battle against these demons—a minute of maneuvers and slashing and stomping and gutting—that the last of these stragglers ceased to be. Talon and Perse were left alone, both panting in exhaustion.
Still the sound of clanging metal and demonic howls and cries of fatal blows being struck carried on, so in desperation they carried on, riding into the fog of war. It was there, in the ruins of the town, that just as suddenly as the thickness of that terrible black haze that had obscured all had enveloped Talon and Perse, it just as quickly dissipated. Even with his sword drawn, Talon stopped for a moment in awe at the sight. Perse, too, unable to see, could hear the endless din of the horde of demons and the struggles of battle carried on by the remnants of the ARCANE unit.
Glaceon stood by a withered grave which read "ARCEUS PROTECTS" and defended it with his life, shutting his book after having uttered a spell, causing the demons before him to shudder as they were enveloped in an icy energy whose chill washed over Talon even from afar. Parts of their bodies crystallized and fell to the ground, causing them to cry in deserved anguish before the icy rot took the rest of their form.
Above, reveling in the heat of battle, was Zorua, leaping backwards after having cast a spell, barely dodging the ferocious swipes of a zoroark-like demon. A sword tight in the apprentice's jaw caused his growl to be muffled, but the halberd Zorua had pierced the assailing demon, causing the creature to let out a yelp of pain as it was slain.

"We must press on against the horde! Every life lost is a million saved should we retrieve the artifact. To the last 'mon, we must try."
The zoroark reminded him of Ari, and he dismounted to see if he could find her, too. A demon—this one in the shape of a blitzle—charged, and Talon hurriedly drew his blade and, in a piercing strike, punctured where its heart would lie. Still it tried to impale him with its horn, for these creatures had neither hearts nor souls; it was an attack he barely managed to avoid. It took Talon the retrieval of his sword followed by a decapitating cut to put an end to the creature.
Another approached, then another, but a wall of psychic energy twisting and roaring almost like flames rose and consumed them. Even though it was not fire, Talon could feel his mind burn by just looking at it. Squinting his eyes, he turned away from it, looking back to see the leader of ARCANE, a delphox twice his size by the name of Sia, pointing a common stick in their direction.
"You, stormseer," said he, standing upright in spite of the various gashes along his torso, "you are from CLOVER, are you not? Has relief come?"
"No. Just I," came Talon's reply. A crunching of dried grass caused him to turn away from the delphox and, just in time, to parry the iron tail of a tyranitar. The battle was still ensuing, and he could only reply to the leader of ARCANE between heavy breaths as he fell back, swiping away at the onslaught.
"I have come with a message. We must leave at once. We must escape this realm. Before the Hellstorm arrives."
From the corner of his eye Talon saw Sia draw a second twig from his sleeve and flicked it against the metal box against his chest; it contained a striking surface which caused the stick to instantly ignite. The vaporeon recalled that even though delphoxes needed fire as a medium for their spells, the leader of ARCANE had no mastery over it, just as he failed to manipulate water.
It didn't matter to Sia, however, since a hurried chant and the extinguishing of the fire caused a psychic energy to crush the tyranitar, bringing it to its knees as it let out a ferocious roar before even that was too much, its throat constricting beneath the mentalic pressure. It silently collapsed into dust. Talon realized that the fury of battle had almost come to a close. Sia turned to face a final opponent, and in the distance he saw Zorua, donning a wand, unleash a fireball against a wave of demons. So great and intense was the fireball that the entire horde was incinerated, the heat of the fire causing Talon to pant, but the sheer power flung Zorua backwards midair into his master, causing them both to topple to the ground.
An opportunistic demon, a shambling sneasler which was saved from being struck down by Glaceon, rose up again, the crystalline shards embedded in its body shimmering as it raised a claw to fell the wizard struggling to pick himself up.
A demonic espeon charged in, trying to steal the kill and victory from the sneasler, but as the espeon pounced, it shifted targets, striking the demon instead. It swung with heavy claws empowered by shadow, each strike rending a part of the demon. It shifted targets against the other assailants as it defended the fallen wizard. With every strike that ensued a blue fire consumed a bit of the body, burning away the illusion and revealing the Infiltrator beneath. By the time the foe had been reduced to ashes Ari stood above them, panting, offering a gauntleted hand to Zorua and Glaceon, who took it in thanks.
Save for the winds, the world felt still. Talon looked about, Perse likewise had his ears held high and attentive, but they heard nothing save for the whistling of the wind. Sia stood tall, his fur flowing in the breeze, but saw no opponents remaining. Glaceon and Zorua both gathered themselves and cast a spell each, enveloping them all in a healing light, but no foes came to meet them. Ari, likewise, looked around and was met with a world as quiet as her.
Sia broke the silence. "With haste, Glaceon. Retrieve the artifact. Ari, provide assistance if you will."
A silent nod from Ari led her to pounce upon the grave Glaceon had been defending and to dig away at the dirt surface, a thankless task that Glaceon had the zoroark stop as he uttered words from his spell book, causing the dirt to upend itself and spill away.
Talon, heaving from heat and exhaustion, looked about the surroundings and saw no others. The wind blew harder, whipping the dust up. The vaporeon had to shout over the minor tempest and said, "Where are all others of ARCANE?"
The delphox turned to them before looking away. "Gone. We were ambushed en route here. I sent the wounded from that battle back towards the entrance with a minor escort. A third of our unit, I hope. And here, when I saw the skies were thick with haze and demons alike, I ordered our surviving airborne—Talonflame and Shaymin—back, for they would surely be ambushed in such conditions. Their objections were duly noted as the rest of us pressed on, for we had no choice."
"And what of that force?" asked Talon, "I must relay a message to all here."
Sia bit his lip. "We are all that remains."
He then looked at the vaporeon and sawsbuck up and down. "And what of you? Stormcaller is your name, correct? You crossed the wastes alone to deliver a message? Knison is a careless fool, but not so great a one to send a single courier bearing a message of even the utmost importance, for it would never arrive. I am surprised you weren't torn to shreds."
Talon cringed and said, "I... have come of my own accord."
"Oh?"
"Yes. And I am not called Stormcaller but, Skywatcher, and I am capable of sensing the Hellstorm. I alone of my house can do such a thing, and it is why I am here. And I... I was mistaken."
The word "mistaken" echoed and was carried by the wind which encircled them like a hurricane, the word wrong echoing and being distorted as if the wind was mocking them. A sharp look of fear flashed across Sia's face before he recomposed it, but it was unmistakable and caused Talon's stomach to form into a ball.
"What," said Sia, his eyes squinting, "do you mean?"
Talon held back tears as he spoke, waving his paws in the air, trying to find the right words, "The winds, they're irregular, inconsistent. They have grown stronger, as if they've a life of their own. They usher the storm ever closer, ever faster. We must leave now if we are to make it back, if we are to avoid the tempest and turmoil and demons as common as raindrops in a monsoon."
Talon turned to his cousin who, although still operating the spell which exhumed the grave, looked upon him with sadness. "Please, once you retrieve the artifact we must ride upon Perse. We cannot walk the rest of the route lest we surely be overtaken by the storm."
The leader of ARCANE, speaking with as much authority as one would expect, said, "How much time remains, Talon?"
"I travelled here in a quarter-hour's time. The winds are growing fiercer still. I feel a half-hour is all that remains."
Sia nodded then looked at them all, at Talon and Perse and at Ari and Glaceon and Zorua. He sighed. Silence stood for a half-second before Ari looked up and signaled to Zorua, who said in her stead, "I can run on all fours and likely match Perse's speed. I would return to my infiltration, but I can... carry Zorua here in my hair. I can take him back to safety."
Sia nodded and said, "How many can you carry, Perse?"
"I will carry us all," came the sure reply from Perse, but Sia smacked the sawsbuck with psychic energy from afar, causing the poor thing to wince.
"Now is not the time for false confidence, you! Speak with honesty and modesty or you will doom all who ride upon your back when you collapse from exhaustion."
Perse's ears drooped and his reply was a quiet, "Two. I can carry two."
Sia nodded, then said, "That is fine, Perse. You are strong. Glaceon! Talon! You two ride upon him. I know your portals do not work in this infernal realm, Glaceon, and I would never let one brother leave behind another."
Talon winced, tasting blood, his lips fighting his tongue to remain silent. Honor won out, and as he spoke red spittle flew out, "No. I cannot allow that. The fault of the storm's unforeseen advance is my own. You are far greater a fighter than I, Sia, and a leader of a whole unit. Take my place. Let me pay the price for my error."
Perse began to object, but Sia's objections were louder. "I am twice your weight; Perse will exhaust himself if I ride instead. Truth be told, I have heard long ago of a megalith that was consumed by Hell. Had we more time, I would have searched for it, for the stone it is made of gives it its name; I was researching it and it might be imbued with a mysterious energy. Let me remain and find it; it might allow me alone to escape. I might very well join you, if the Gods would allow."
"Madness!" said Talon, "you'd give your life up for a rumor?"
Talon could speak no more, nor could anyone else, as at that moment the last bits of dirt were flung away from the grave and Ari reached within, pulling out a large section of spine with a mysterious, golden growth jutting from it. It had a bright aura surrounding it, and all were awestruck. Sia found his voice first and said, "Make haste, Ari! Put it away into a saddlebag of Perse's! Take it back to our dearest Cathedral Airship! We have found what we came for: that which could change the tides of the war."
He turned to Talon and, looking down upon him, said, "Look at how many lives were given up for a rumor, and look upon the reward! I... am taken by despair since so many were lost under my command, but it helps to know they martyred themselves for such a thing. Come, let me hold it in my hands! Let me feel it. Do any of you recognize it?"
It was Glaceon who said, with a whisper, with a "The sheer size; the golden spike jutting out. I've seen this as a part of a whole before, in a stained glass relief in our hangar. It is the spine of an Arceus, isn't it?"
Sia nodded, his claws carefully caressing the bone in disbelief. "Indeed. I feel content with myself joining those I failed to safely lead in Yvetal's embrace, having gazed upon such a relic."
Talon opened his mouth to object, but Sia had already struck a flame and extinguished it, causing Talon to be silenced.
"I will hear no objection. Every moment you wait is another that those lives lost are spat upon. Death is too easy a path for you to take given your error. Go and ride now, and escape this realm; your continued service to the First Flame shall be your repentance."
Sia turned away, looking into the distance. Shrill cries of demons could be heard, but his steady voice overcame them. "If the rumors were true about the megalith and its properties, I might very well fight my way out to our portal or another, returning to the world above. If my research was false, I will take as many of these demons down with me, and do so knowing that you have taken an artifact of unequaled holiness back to our mighty Cerberus. Now go."
Chapter 8: Stirring
While Ari dashed madly on all fours with Zorua stuffed into her hair, trying his best to not blush, Talon and Glaceon rode upon Perse's back, the latter holding onto his cousin tightly. Talon looked ahead, ready to whisper into Perse's ear over the whining gales of any obstructions or need to correct course.
But no need came as they hurried through the wastes; the once-rocky and uneven terrain had shifted and altered, paradoxically righting themselves to appear orderly in this land where the opposite reigned. Although the winds had doubtless flowed about them so much that their sense of direction was lost, that gnarled oak in the far distance, towering over the obscuring miasma, let him know where to go. It seemed larger, greater, but under the fury of the winds even it could not resist them any longer.
One-third of the way to the portal, Talon saw as they rode, off in the far distance, some of the leaves of that tree disappear. He wondered if he was imagining it but, as the winds blew, he saw a single leaf carried by it. Any wondering about it stopped as he inhaled the air carried by the breeze, wondering if the leaf was of a familiar scent.
His fins recoiled, his legs trembled, his grip became loose. Perse sensed this and tried to slow, but it wasn't enough.
That leaf, carried by the sickening wind, smelled of carrion. Its very visage was one of dread. The sound it made as it fluttered was one that told tales of torment.
Talon's grip faltered and he fell from his companion. Glaceon tried to catch him, but the vaporeon slipped from his grip and tumbled onto the ground. As Talon made impact a screaming pain shot up his right leg, one which he immediately could tell prevented him from using it much at all.
But the vaporeon did not howl in pain, nor did he manage to wince and make no noise, for another sensation took precedence. On his knees and arms, all buckling as he struggled to hoist his body above the dried grass below, his mouth opened and out came bile.
Streaming tears joined the contents of his stomach, and it was only when Glaceon, mounted atop Perse, and Zorua and Ari had circled back that the gut reaction ceased.
Talon, gasping for breath, spoke. It was only a whisper, and if the winds were normal, the sound of their howling would have made it impossible to hear. And while those winds did blow with as great a fury as ever, they were unfamiliar to the rules of nature, and thus they chose to fall into an abrupt silence. All they carried, save for more and more leaves from that distant tree, was Talon's quiet utterance up and into the ears of all those surrounding him, reveling in the utter truth of the words that spilt out of the vaporeon's mouth.
"Something is stirring."
The world was silent save for that whisper, echoing over and over and over as the winds danced about them. Ari made a motion to lift up the vaporeon, but it caused him to howl in pain. They tried again, but he fell to the ground once more and said, "It's no use. I cannot ride atop you Perse. I will doom us all."
"No, Talon," cried his companion, "please find strength. You must try. You can't leave me alone. You are my brother and I cannot live without you."
Through gritted teeth Talon replied, "I try only because of my love for you, Perse. In the face of what I have faced I find my strength sapped, but still I will try."
And try he did, standing up and being hoisted by Ari up, but he could not saddle Perse, in spite of how desperately he tried. With tears he asked Ari to put him back down, to leave him, to take care of his dear brother, but not after caressing Perse. His white paw brushed against Perse's soft fuzz, relishing the moment.
Ari only half-obliged, however, taking Talon down but yanking Zorua out of her hair and saddling him where Talon was mounted but a moment ago. Delicately, she placed the vaporeon into her hair, and although he was an order larger than Zorua, causing his tail to stick out of her red tuft, it required no stability from him. He whispered a tired thanks.
She turned to Glaceon and nodded, and the wizard said, "Perse, Ari has Talon. He is safe. Let us ride once more. We must get this artifact and ourselves out of this damned realm."
So they proceeded to ride, onwards to salvation.
Two-thirds of the way to the portal Talon saw as they rode, off in the far distance, that half of the leaves of that tree disappeared, fluttering in the heavy wind. The wind itself, though strong, did not push against them at this point, further delaying the journey. Instead, as it blew past it circled back, living tendrils pulling them towards the source.
Talon, once more, needed to heave. Ari understood and took him from her hair and set him on the ground, and once more he buckled down as the leaves blew past. He opened his snout, but nothing more came from his stomach. Only words escaped, fright and dismay thick on his tongue, and the winds were sure to carry those emotions into the ears of all those around him.
The words themselves were disbelief and horror, and although they beheld within them a truth, none who heard Talon's gasp wished it to be so.
"It's getting closer."
A pit formed in the stomach of them all, and they felt a sliver of the apprehension Talon felt, for the raw terror the winds carried needed no gift or curse to sense. With haste Ari stuffed him back into her hair and ran; Perse likewise ran at full speed, following the sound of her steps and following the sickening airs that reeled them in.
They proceeded, of course, but they didn't know if salvation lay beyond the horizon.
As they rode, the leaves carried by the winds of the storm became more plentiful, so dense were they that the sky was nearly blotted out. But still the Explorers pressed on, running towards the ruins of that ancient blackstone site where the portal stood, where the remnants of ARCANE and CLOVER hopefully held the line, and where they could escape.
They advanced, time being swept away by the fury of the storm, and Talon—though his eyes were shut firmly—heard a commotion rapidly approaching and, his curiosity insatiable, opened his eyes to see. He found that the dull and tired sky was slowly replaced with a wave of rolling clouds—still the same grey—but with hues of orange flickers of lightning. It stood high above but was not yet upon them; they still had time.
Talon breathed a sigh of relief as he looked down and found that they were but a leap and bound away from the encampment. He saw familiar faces of CLOVER and unfamiliar ones of ARCANE there, manning fortifications, ready to receive them!
He looked beyond the defended site at the twisted oak tree. Its branches were nearly bare, thick claws whose foliage no longer obscured the watching moon that stood behind it, observing them. Indeed almost all of its leaves had been taken by the fury of the storm, but not all! Some, Talon could see, his vision magnified and focused on the sight, that some remained, though one—then another and a third—were taken, sure to blow by him within a handful of moments.
Its leaves had all but fallen, only a handful remained on the tree, contesting the fury of the storm that was about to encroach upon them. He was sure—it was only a gut feeling, but the same one that had warned him of the Hellstorm—that the moment the last of the leaves fell, all hope would be lost, for they would carry with them the full woe of that gnarled tree.
The warriors guarding the site— the two growlithe twins Talon had seen earlier—stepped aside and let them in, following and barking a message that survivors from ARCANE had come.
Talon was still tangled in the thick of Ari's hair as she and Perse raced past the guards and wounded, taking them to the center of the encampment. Glaceon and Zorua dismounted with such speed and hurry that the apprentice fell upon the ground hard, a stinging pain entering his bent knee. But all Zorua could afford to do was wince as he and his master were met with Knison who glanced at the party.
After the meowstic belted out a command to withdraw all inside and for Icarus to ready the bomb so that they might seal the portal, he then turned and asked, "I see Talon and Perse made it across the wastes. Where is the rest of your unit?"
Glaceon answered, speaking on behalf of them all, "We are all that remains of ARCANE, save for those already here."
Knison was unable to suppress his surprise and asked in a hushed tone, "Sia... fell?"
"No," Glaceon answered, "he remained. In search of a megalith, he said, but... effectively lost to Hell. He would want us to proceed."
"And the artifact? That which brought us to this abominable realm?"
Glaceon reached into a saddlebag on Perse and pulled it out. A glance at the relic, that piece of spine, would make one believe it to be of extreme density and weight. Glaceon, however, handled it with such ease that it became clear this was no ordinary fragment of bone, given its loftiness. It was made doubly evident by the golden fragment of a ring jutting out from it, one that Sia and Glaceon and all others from Hangar 4 had seen in a stained glass facade that decorated their shared space, that which the delphox had so quickly understood: it was the spine of an Arceus. Indeed, as it was held in Glaceon's hands, in spite of the lack of sun in the sky, it glinted with bright and holy light.
While the others surrounding them bowed their heads in reverence, Knison had little time to do so, uncaring of the potential heresy he might suffer. The leader of CLOVER turned back and said to the hisuian typhlosion, "Icarus! Alchemist, you! Is your device in order yet, ready to be detonated? Now, that Hellstorm is nearly upon us!"
Icarus, his purple-red flames blazing bright under all the attention, nodded and said, "Indeed, the weapon is ready. Just as last time I sealed the portal, I shall once more upend the barrier between our world and theirs, the infernal energies within making it so distorted it shall self-correct."
As he said this, he summoned a fire to his hand then commanded it to march, then did so again and again, each infernal flame creating a perimeter around the portal site, guarding where the stone grounds of the fallen temple met the dying beige grass of Hell. It took but a moment, but they had little to spare. The storm was nearly upon them, the winds so strong that the fires—in spite of their ethereal nature—flickered under the gaze of it as it loomed above them.
In time, thirty flames formed a circle around them, each bristling with the same anticipation Icarus had.
"All ready?" Icarus cried, but Knison had no time to confirm; all those out of the perimeter, beyond the hastily-erected fortifications of the portal site, would be forced to face the Hellstorm alone.
The storm above cried in anguish by cause of unceasing thundercracks, and Knison, augmented by a psychic echo, said, "Now Icarus! Detonate!"
The fury of the storm was an instant away, but Icarus was an instant quicker. He raised his hands above his head and the fires around them, likewise, rose, forming a wall of ethereal flame that consumed the world around them. A moment later, not a breath too soon, the alchemist engulfed the device he had in fire, consuming it and causing it to detonate.
The shockwave of the explosion was transferred to the surrounding pillar of unholy fire and let out a cry like a thunderclap. The world seemed to tremble and a blinding light overtook everyone's vision.
They opened their eyes and Icarus let the wall of fire fall. It revealed that the same dull grey skies they had sought to escape were still above them, the Hellstorm was a second away from crashing over them.
Icarus was going to wonder why the device failed, Knison and the remainder of the survivors were going to berate the alchemist for failing them, but none of them did so, for the Hellstorm crashed against all who were gathered by the portal.
As Talon had realized, this Hellstorm was different. Few there had survived a Hellstorm, but any survivor would say that a Hellstorm was rife with hysteria, that each crack of lightning and echo of thunder would be the rallying call to a dozen demons who would rise from the surrounding ashes. Even the winds carried cries of anguish and terror, even the skies darkened under the endlessness of the clouds and thickness of fog.
This wasn't so here. The edge of the Hellstorm rolled over them, but instead of earsplitting cries and roars of thunder, it was just silence. But those with keen ears would note that the winds, carrying leaves from that ever-present oak, beheld gentle whispers.
Arms were drawn and pointed towards the ground, but no demons arose as the Hellstorm marched onward. But those attuned to the lands could feel the world below them shudder with shallow breaths.
The red clouds of the Hellstorm rolled over them, but they were merely at the perimeter, for in their wake the grey skies of Hell returned as if nothing had occurred. But those with sharp eyes would see that the moon, there in the distance, was glowing brighter as it stood behind the branches of that disgusting tree.
They would see, also, finally, the winds blow the last of the leaves off the branch.
Those keen-eyed would see that last enigmatic leaf from that ever-watching tree ripple and flutter through the air, dancing like a child as it was carried from the branch it was torn from. It continued to carelessly waft and float in the winds as it drifted down the hill and continued to do so as it journeyed through the flatlands, all the way to the blackstone platform, that once-hallowed ground, where the Explorers of Hangar 4 were.
They were confused as to why the Hellstorm wasn't what they had anticipated. Icarus's bomb had failed to work, they knew, for they were still in Hell, but had it stopped the Hellstorm in its tracks, negating its fury?
Their answer came as that final leaf passed by. It danced and sang a song as it wafted through, the winds carrying it caressing all the Explorers there.
It passed by Talon, almost purposefully. That leaf, carried by the sickening wind, no longer smelled of carrion. The scent was one of oblivion, beyond no smell at all; it was the absence of sensation entirely. No longer was its visage one of dread. Dread was the woeful anticipation of what was to come, and it was already here, so its appearance was merely a glimpse at evil, but even a glance drew forth pain and madness. The sound it made as it fluttered was no longer one that told tales of torment. It whispered of promises to be fulfilled.
How could Talon have possibly helped himself? All felt it, but him moreso—doubly? Triply? It didn't matter, for even an ounce more of the feeling was unbearable—and he cried out, breaking the silence.
The wind—lashing upon the words and divvying them up among each individual gust—carried his realization to the ears of each Explorer. A whirlwind, likewise, ran from the blackstone site all the way back to the oak that stood above them, hurrying to deliver Talon's cry back to the tree. It slammed into the tree and hill, unable to wait even an instant more to deliver the tantalizing realization back to the oak.
"It's here."
Chapter 9: Awakening
Jesper Kyd's Darktide Main Theme
That terrible oak tree trembled in delight as it savored in the words which inundated the bark in tantalizing misery.
Icarus didn't know it, but his bomb was capable of repairing the barrier between the worlds above and below, shocking the firmament between the two so that it would self-correct, transporting them back to their world and sealing the portal shut. Even in the midst of a regular Hellstorm it would work. It was his greatest accomplishment.
No, the oak didn't tremble. The hill below it did. It caused the entire world to spasm, and the sky contracted as if holding a breath.
But this, as Talon said and as all the Explorers realized, was no regular Hellstorm, for this one was but a breath, a heavy sigh of a greater, incomprehensible force. Icarus's accomplishment in the face of this storm was as meaningful as a warrior stabbing the sea to turn back the tides.
The hill grew in size. No. It was upended, lifting itself off the ground. The grey sky exhaled. The moon, watching still, seemed to smile.
That incomprehensible, overwhelming force was what tethered the Explorers to this world; it was the very presence that forced the portal to remain open, for its fate was to journey from its world to the world of pokémon. It was to take it all.
A head erupted from the earth, lifted by four legs as wide and tall as the towers in the adamant city of Noe.
All remained still and silent, turned to stone and forced to watch in horrid fascination as the oak tree that stood before them was but a small part of a greater terror. The leviathan, a terrible, overwhelming presence that prevented their escape, took on the visage of a torterra. From its underbelly came a torrent of demons, a flood, a deluge that was so far away but to be upon them in a matter of breaths, for time and space no longer seemed to matter quite as much as it did before.
Its mighty and disgusting head, towering over them all, shifted sidewards, giving its full profile. It looked like a torterra, no doubt, with a beak as black as midnight, but instead of the usual green grasses on its back it had the beige, dried grass of Hell. Its spikes were dark and jagged, the brown of typical torterras instead a grey the color of the sky, and the entire creature was one born of hate and dust and ash and despair. An eye snapped open, an alien, yellow-and-red eye that stared.
Many have said eyes are the windows to the soul; they allow one to see the true nature of an individual. For the Explorers of Hangar 4, their battles have sent them face-to-face against the demonic hordes of Hell, and in droves they were met with wild and furious eyes, but eyes that held nothing deeper than instinct. Although it gave the demons strength and endowed them with fury, it made them predictable.
Torterra stirred and looked upon them, and the Explorers met the leviathan's gaze. They saw its eyes had depth, beheld a malice so deep and consuming and yet so utterly alien that for some it was too much. The most base, gut instinct under the gaze of the leviathan overcame two Explorers. They turned their weapons on themselves, and no one could stop them in time. Three Explorers, taken by fright, ran off into Hell, abandoning their posts and their allies; never were they seen again. Four Explorers, knowing their duty but not wishing to live a moment longer beneath that terrible eye, flung themselves forward into the incoming horde, desiring to take as many demons with them as they could.
They held the horde at bay for a handful of breaths. It didn't matter. All knew from presence and sight alone that it was the leviathan whose proximity kept the portal open. Collectively, they weighed their options in their heads. Would they escape and allow the leviathan to enter their world uncontested, to rally at the Cerberus and warn her of what was to come?
The Explorers had their answer as they gazed at the leviathan and in an instant knew what it sought to accomplish. They saw how it stood midways between the grey sky of Hell and the dying land they stood upon. They saw how Torterra held the false moon of Hell in the putrid claw of a withered oak upon its back and wore the very earth itself like a crown of thorns.
They knew Torterra wanted nothing more than to contest the Cerberus herself, to hold the Cathedral Airship in the talons of that wicked tree and drag it down and tear it asunder. The idea of the Cerberus being felled was nearly an impossible one, and yet the impossible stood before them, the leviathan's very existence an affront to sanity and reason.
Icarus, always the alchemist, tried to manufacture his own of the two, saying, "I have a second bomb. Always I bring a second in case the first were to fail. It might be of use."
Dreary eyes looked upon him as he continued, "I know. I have seen what is before us; I have seen from a single glance, just as you have, and know deep in my heart that so long as the leviathan stands we cannot close the portal. But perhaps we can fell it instead. Wound it, at least, so that our Airship might survive. We are here at the portal site; it must come to us, correct? If we hold instead of retreat, we might detonate this weapon attuned to infernal energies and tear open its underbelly. We might give the Cerberus a fighting chance."
But he was met only with hushed voices of returning the artifact to the Cerberus and regrouping, a noble action shielding the cowardly intent below.
But could they be blamed? Every moment in Torterra's presence was torture. The winds blew harder still, escorts to damnation that they were, their tendrils trying to turn the Explorers' heads towards their infernal master. For all the untruths the winds of the leviathan whispered of, the Explorers knew this one to be sound: if they remained they would surely die. Despair cemented itself into their hearts as none responded to the hisuian typhlosion.
Jesper Kyd's Waiting to Strike
But from the midst of the Explorers of Hangar 4, of the CLOVER and remnants of ARCANE, Shaymin—tears welling in his eyes, fear visible, unable to be hidden—flew there up high, above them all. His bright colors, even matted with dust, stood in stark contrast of the tired, grey sky. With a trembling voice he called their attention; with a green paw caked in dirt and blood he pointed at Torterra. He said, "Look there! We have shared the feeling of despair that flowed through us all, the realization of what this leviathan seeks to do."
With a wavering voice the morale officer continued and said, the sickly reality of the situation setting in as it rolled off his tongue, "It... it aims to destroy our home. To drag it down below. It wishes to end the war."
They all knew it to be so, but to hear such a thing spoken aloud— from Shaymin no less—caused many to gasp a breathless "No."
"Yes. Yes!" cried Shaymin, "Yes, the leviathan seeks to do this! As the Cathedral Airship in all her might defends the last ville in the south of the Continent of Mist, this Torterra seeks to enter our world and assault our best chance at victory. The artifact we have in our grasp is meaningless without the Cerberus."
Angry tears flowed as Shaymin yelled, "Are we to let that happen? Are we to go forth and escape to a world doomed to die, or shall we make a stand here? Shall we weaken it thoroughly so that our home, our very civilization, might stand a chance?"
The world shook as Torterra took a step towards them; Shaymin had to speak over the turmoil, saying, "We must rally. We must ebb this tide, for every demon defeated is one less that throws itself at the Cerberus's defenses, one more weapon that can focus on the leviathan."
The earth quaked as Torterra took a step towards them. As it neared, the portal shimmered ever brightly, readying to allow passage to the towering demon.
He practically screamed above the din, saying, "Come! Remember the songs of the Cerberus, the hymns her attendants chanted. Have we forgotten them, the liturgies and prayers? Let us together sing them, let us overcome the whispers in the wind; let our faith silence the leviathan's song of despair!"
And so they chanted, a quiet and hesitant muttering at first that the winds tried to suppress, but it only caused the defiant Explorers to recite their hymns louder, and soon it was loud enough that they could hear one another. They sang together, and those who knew no lyrics such as Perse and Talon hummed along, the strength of their faith manifest, rallying them all.
The world convulsed once more as Torterra saw them withstand the presence it evoked. It let out a roar, sap spilling from its maw, demons blossoming from the ground wherever it fell akin to how the Cerberus let loose the Explorers from its vigilant heads.
Over the chants and prayers and roar of the leviathan, Shaymin said with faith alone amplifying his voice, "Hear the song of what we fight for! Bask in it! Let the songs of our home strum in our ears and caress our hearts as we do what we know to be right: let us make a stand here. Let us carve a monument to our resistance upon the underbelly of the beast."
Thus, the Explorers' decision was made.
Chapter 10: Fall
Doyle W. Donehoo's The Bloom Spreads & Reapers of the Bloom
Defenses were reinforced, weapons drawn. Fleet-footed Linoone was sent out to carry the artifact to safety and to inform the Explorers of MYTHOS those below would hold the line and to send reinforcements if they could. The demons came ever closer, rushing towards them. The world shook as Torterra dominated the horizon.
There was no time to evacuate the injured through the portal, so even the most slightly able-bodied were armed and sent forth to the perimeter. The rest remained were taken to secondary fortifications, all save for Talon who remained by the entrance of the portal. It was there, where still the crumbling statues stood vigil, where still he and his companions were. He tried to stand, but he howled in pain as his leg gave way once more. Perse caught him with his snout, giving the vaporeon a place to latch onto before falling completely. Glaceon glanced at the master of the CLOVER unit, Knison, who concentrated, his ears raised, revealing eyes.
"Go, take command in my stead, wizard," Knison said, "I must step back to a secondary, more fortified position. I must lay down a field of psychic terrain to steady us all. If not, I fear we will all be consumed by the madness the leviathan's very presence evokes."
With a nod the wizard took charge, his first order having Talon remain. "Stay and see to it that Icarus can defend the bomb. You too, Perse, remain and defend my cousin and our salvation."
Talon tried to object, but Glaceon patted him on his back and said, "Worry not about me and my apprentice, cousin. At the battlements we shall hold them at bay."
A shudder ran through Talon but he nodded, then looked at Icarus who was readying the weapon. The vaporeon prayed it would be enough.
The defenses were fully manned, weapons held fast in the palmy grips of the Explorers. The demons were upon them, a breath away from throwing themselves at the defenses. The world shook; Torterra was one step closer.
A rousing battle-cry, a shout of anger and defiance rose from the Explorers, for the demons were upon them. The air was rife with anticipation. The battle started with a trickle of demons, with Torterra a league away, each step rumbling the ground, little pebbles jostling about them all.
The demons tried to scale the hastily rearranged stones, only to be met with adamant spears and swords and spells turning them into dust. It was upon those makeshift palisades Talon saw Ari swipe away at scurrying demons, using not a sword or spear but her own claws sheathed in gauntlets. She was caked in dust, not that of her disguise, but that of a combatant. But she was inexperienced in protracted battles, and the gauntlets were of heavy steel. She took a step back, then another and another, each time her claw scraped against the stone a reminder of every inch lost.
Still a battle-hymn came from the Explorers, chants and songs of victory and faith, for the demons were held at bay. The air was rife with glory. So did the battle continue, the demons now a stream, with Torterra three-fourths a league away, each step shaking the ground.
The demons met the defenders upon the rampart, their numbers wild and frenzied, and they clambered over one another to meet the defenders upon the wall as they formed a half-dead ramp. It was upon the cusp of the wall that Talon saw overhead swooping angels come, providing support from above. Rain and Cory shot at them from afar, Arrow swooped in and clawed at them, and a Talonflame engulfed itself in fire, dive-bombing the foe. But flying demons appeared, escaping their nest carved into the twisted tree upon Torterra's back, and made their way. Thus Shaymin, leading the defense of the skies, ordered them grounded lest they be sundered from the sky, ordered them to a more fortified position in the rear.
Still a battle-song rang out from the Explorers, their chants furious and growing with desperation, as the demons were slaughtered in grave masses. The air was rife with determination. So did the battle continue, the demons now a river, with Torterra half a league away, each step jostling even the bricks of the wall.
The demons were countless, unending in their assault, and they gained a foothold upon the rampart, stepping onto equal ground with the Explorers and fighting them head-on. It was there Talon saw a nidorina, donning ancient weaponry, cry out to a priest in the Airship Cathedral they held the line for. In spite of them being in Hell, her prayer was answered, and a great whooshing sound echoed over the battlefield. A shining golden cross, clad in icons, fell from the heavens, crushing a demon beneath its impact. It stood and emitted an aura that strengthened resolve, a holy light that temporarily blinded the approaching demons.

"Hear my supplication, Gods, and send her an icon. Let it inspire the good and drive away evil. Let it be a sun in the midst of the night!"
Donning a shield with a poochenya as its emblem, she swung her mace against it, the sound reminiscent of a gong. As the sound reverberated a spirit, blue and mystical, stepped forward as it was called forth from the shield. It joined the reverberations of metal striking metal with a howl, and it joined her in battle, pouncing onto the demons rearing upon her back while she held the line. Even so, the valiant warrior and her summon had to take a step back, the fangs of her mystical companion and points of her mace not numerous enough to withstand the onslaught.
The battle-cry had faded, now replaced with grunts and shouts and heaves of weapons, of steel slicing against ghastly flesh and demonic claws finding gaps in armor. The air was rife with fear. The demons were slaughtered, of course, but one Explorer there—then another and another—fell to the horde. So did the battle continue, the demons now a flood, with Torterra a quarter-league away, each step shaking the defenders and attackers alike.
The demons were endless, unceasing, clawing at all they could. They poured over the walls, forcing the Explorers to retreat. Those who refused were surrounded, torn to bits. Argus, having found something resembling courage, swooped in to save a vulpix battle-mage who had spent the last of his fires cleansing the horde, buying him time to escape to the fallback point. After shooting the dreepy and having them return, readying for a second salvo and to fall back as well, one claw caught him and pulled him down. Though the demon it belong to was killed by a dreepy, three more had joined it. He was pulled down with a terrible scream, cursing his one attempt to do good as he was torn in two. But his final actions, at least, were noble, for out resounded whooshes of air, the sound of dreepy being shot. They flew not at the enemy, but back to the exhausted remnants of the Explorers, hoping they might survive him.
Seven dreepy flew back towards safety, dodging and weaving through tearing claws, but the demons were relentless. One massive demon—identical to a buneary save for the gaping maw full of sharp teeth—leapt at them, ready to take one down. The ground between the demon and its prey shook and erupted, and a garchomp donning an ARCANE badge leapt out from below. With one draconic sweep of its claw it decapitated the creature, landing upon another demon and crushing it on the ground. The mighty aura of the Explorer caused the wall of demons to hesitate, enough for two more—Talon saw the badges of CLOVER they wore and knew them to be Sierra the gabite and Phanpy—to follow.
Garchomp's voice was gruff and aged, bellowing as he said, "Phanpy, Sierra. Take the left and right of my flanks; cover our retreat. I'll handle the bulk of these creatures."
Orders affirmed, the three fought the wall of teeth. Garchomp led the opening attack, a mighty draconic slice that cut three down. Another slice, then another, three in total took down a dozen. But they were easily replaced. Phanpy tried, rolling into a ball and flinging himself at a demon, running it into the ground before bouncing back. But it was just one he mowed down when three replaced it; he could not keep up. Sierra tried, spewing a blast of energy from her mouth, consuming one demon in the righteous fire. But it was just one that she struck down while three replaced it; she could not keep up.
To stay would mean to die, Garchomp knew, so he said to them, his command loud and clear even despite the roars of demons, "Retreat! Join the line further back! We need time to reorganize and that time must be paid in blood; it is better one of us meet the guiding wings of Yvetal than two."
Garchomp flung himself into the crowd, letting his draconic energy flow freely through him in a mad outrage, each cut and bite he suffered further deepening his wrath. Many blows later he persisted, a raging tempest of strikes that took a weavile's icy slash to the neck to end his last stand. It was not in vain, however, for he had bought the Explorers time. But it was a delay of the inevitable, for still the demons came and Torterra still stood above them.
The portal shimmered, brightly, the space it distorted thrown into further disarray as the leviathan which forced it open and enticed it to ever-widen neared. It was under the shadow of that terrible colossus where Icarus defended his weapon, waiting for the leviathan to be overhead, snapping his fingers and summoning a burst of flame to consume the enemy that like water in a collapsing dam flowed freely. One snap and a second and a third, each a burst of fire consuming demons, but it wasn't enough. The demons advanced.
Zorua, his halberd and sword tossed aside in favor of his wand, found firm footing. He let loose a fireball and managed to remain grounded. Perse, hearing the roars of the foe, led a one-manned charge into the enemy, piercing them with his horns and running them down with his hooves, decrying how they would dare to touch a leafeon. Ari, too, had joined in the fight, having stuck with them all after being forced from the walls, refusing to give any further ground when an injured Talon stood but a few feet from her. She clawed, the energy from her strikes black as night, but she had only two arms. The three gave it their all, but it wasn't enough. The demons advanced.
Talon needed to fight. He had only his sword by his side and drew it, leaning against a statue to take off weight from his injured leg, but the pain that seeped into his mind was overwhelming and all-consuming, filling him with a rage he never before experienced, making him wonder if the miseries of Hell had infiltrated his mind.
But a cool paw soothed the pain and the fury, and Talon saw it belonged to his cousin. Glaceon stepped forward, his cloak fluttering in the wind. He saw the battle was being lost, he saw that darkness was fast approaching, for the shadow of the leviathan Torterra was ever-closer, encroaching upon the perimeter of the portal site. He saw how his apprentice fought desperately beside Ari and Perse and Icarus and was proud.
A behemoth appeared—it was still twice the size of the demons but dwarfed by Torterra—and with a roar made the Explorers shirk. Glaceon stood firm, however, and knelt down, reciting something he had memorized, the book he held now laced to his chest beneath his cloak so that he might still use it to channel his spells. His cloak seemed to forget gravity existed, as it began to rise and be surrounded by icy energies.
With a shout that frosted the very air around him, Glaceon took a leap forward, his icy paws leaving behind frozen ground. He was midair for a brief moment, frozen in time and space as he was above them all save for the Torterra that, finally noticing, watched with interest.
He fell, falling towards the ground, aiming to land right before the behemoth in the thick of the horde. The demons there watched also, their mouths foaming, readying for a meal.
He landed in the midst of the statues and the demons in their shadows, refusing to yell the final word of his incantation but instead resigning it to a whisper, a command that beheld a cold, calculating rage that chilled the hearts of all who heard.
"Upheaval."
The effect was immediate. A cold front of air swept over the Explorers, one that raised their fur and caught their breath. A crackling sound echoed out across Hell, white frost crept from where he landed and seeped into the ground, and the dead realm of below—even if it was a cold and unforgiving place—shuddered from Glaceon's touch. The wizard was unrelenting, however, and with a frown he continued to press his paw into the ground, willing every bit of energy within him into the attack.
Pillars of ice rose from the earth, columns breaking the skin of Hell, spears piercing the demons, tossing aside rock and turning hot and feral ashes into cold, dying dust. The lone remaining statue, an indeedee, watched on as the world was upended from the cataclysm. It listened as the cries and shriek of countless demons, after one loud shared death throe that sounded as if the very realm of Hell screamed, were condemned to a frigid, howling abyss.

"The universe will not die in a blazing fire but shall instead be consumed by a bitter cold."
Glaceon stood up from his attack, laughed a laugh of a madman, took a single backwards, then collapsed onto the floor. His swift-pawed apprentice caught him, protecting his head from the ground, and laid his drained master onto the floor gently. Zorua checked his breathing and with relief felt it still there; he looked about him and locked eyes with Talon, trying to find someone to help. The vaporeon saw in his eyes surprise; it was clear that never before had Glaceon expended all his energy, and he knew not what to do.
Their locked eyes were overcast by a shadow that in an instant overcame them as a titanic step was taken forward.
They, Zorua and Talon, looked up. Ari was beside them, so was Icarus, and they looked up also, their ears falling back behind their heads. All eyes—from those at the portal where Glaceon made his last stand to those from behind the battle-line—looked up. The terrain about them shifted, a psychic energy permeating through it as somewhere from the back sanity was retained, minds calmed, under that terrible gaze from the Torterra looming above, watching them all with sickly yellow eyes.
But the leviathan shifted its gaze to the bomb by the altar. It could sense the infernal energies that permeated it, knew its purpose, but its maw refused to open; no spell was spoken.
Instead the winds, thick with leaves and dust, carried a whispered shout that pierced the ears of all the Explorers there.
"Frenzy."
"No!" cried Icarus as the ground shook, lush vines creeping through the cracks in the blackstone they stood upon, grasping wildly at the air. The hisuian typhlosion snapped his fingers and from them bursts of purple flame appeared, incinerating the green vine, but more appeared than he could smite.
Ari joined him in cutting them down with her gauntlets; Zorua's halberd grasped in his paws cut down more also, and Perse, even, tore at one with his mouth. But it was too much, and the world around them was turning to a jungle of green, pulling down everything they could get a grasp on.
Even the Explorers at the rear tried to provide aid. Spells were cast, but they were exhausted and routed and low in number, and the frenzy of vines was too much to match. Slowly they rose from the ground, pulling Explorers to the ground and entrapping them, toppling statues, becoming ever-closer to the bomb that they would try to drag down below so it could not strike the leviathan.
And yet, when all seemed lost, when the vines were too numerous, when every claw, fang and weapon was set against the grasping green tendrils that rose from below, from the portal flew in two Xiphe! One after the other they came, their engines roaring, their holy resemblance of the Cerberus giving light to those tired hearts of the Explorers below. Escorted by the MYTHOS airborne, they came ready for battle, to push back the night. One flew slowly, searching for a place to land, and Talon saw it was marked with a scroll and scepter that denoted it was the MYTHOS dropship. Blasting past it was the one adorned with the four-leaved CLOVER he knew, and he wondered where it was going.
The dropship's arrival courted the attention of Torterra. Here were two dropships, one fully endowed with reinforcements able to turn the tides of its attack and the other daring to approach it. Neither would do.
The winds spoke once more, their whispers clawing at their ears.
"Storm."
The pale grass upon its shell grew tall as fast as its color became a verdant green; in an instant there was an unnavigable savannah upon the leviathan's back. Countless blades then tore themselves off the Torterra, flinging themselves through the air at the dropships. The CLOVER dropship, carrying its momentum, sped up further, managing to dodge the green scythes that flew through the air save for glancing blows.
It was at that moment Talon realized why CLOVER needed to procure its own pilots, for the dropship rammed one of its engines against the head of the leviathan, causing a massive explosion of ignited miasma. The dropship, the main body still intact, tumbled in a circle as it crashed into the ground. He was surprised it did not explode on impact, and he hoped there could be survivors; the same could not be said for the MYTHOS dropship.
It was almost slowed to a crawl as it hovered over the battlefield, its rear opening as the MYTHOS airborne tried to find a position to land, trying to buy time for the Xiphos to deliver its contingent of Explorers. The Torterra's leaf storm felled each airborne of the MYTHOS, and a dozen blades crashed into the dropship itself.
A blade, striking true, pierced the engine and ignited the fuel, causing the dropship to be consumed by a pink fireball; debris and hellfire rained over the watching Explorers. The force of the explosion's shockwave forced all to the ground, from the most adamant floragato whose spear had pierced the foe with precision to the tiniest of bulbasaurs whose whipping vines had held demons at bay, all were thrown to the floor. The leviathan smiled as it saw this, imagining that they bowed before it, worshipping it, for it was clear their Gods were nowhere to be found here.
How could they be found? It was better they were elsewhere rather than watching idly as the Explorers looked up from where they lay, seeing the all-consuming fireball dash their last vestiges of hope, the flames consuming an entire unit of Hangar 4. It was better they never glanced into Hell to begin with instead of refusing to act as the Explores were bound by grasping vines, illuminated by the pink ball of flame and death that lingered in the sky, Torterra's advance now uncontested towards the bomb by the portal. It was better they didn't exist at all, since they would not know the death that was sure to come to them as the verdant tendrils lashed themselves against the Explorers' sole hope of injuring the leviathan and, with a bellow from Torterra, pulled it far, far below, where a subterranean explosion rocked the ground, hellfire rising from the cracks of the earth.
The Gods were indeed nowhere to be found, and with them, hope.
But hopelessness was not the only emotion that existed among the Explorers, for many felt also a defiant anger at the leviathan, wishing to do nothing more than to delay its advance by even a half-second, to make it pay double for the pain it inflected upon them. Many felt only an inkling of that, for the dread they felt beneath Torterra's presence was far greater, but there was one exception whose defiance outweighed despair.
It was because he had failed to warn properly of the Hellstorm, of the warning that this terrible leviathan ushered upon them. He failed to save much of ARCANE, and even the leader of the esteemed unit was lost in Hell. He failed to even fight, to make a last stand against the demons that had assailed them on account of his lame leg. As his tear-laden eyes looked upon Perse's collapsed body beside him, his white fur charred by the remains of the Xiphos dropship, the defiance within him festered and made him vow he would make a stand.
His eyes turned to Perse's saddlebags, strewn everywhere, and he saw from the splayed contents of one the iridescent disc that caught his attention. From his head to his tail, Talon was a whirlpool of vindication frothing to be let loose upon the world; now he knew how to release it.
He looked at his collapsed brother, then at the Torterra whose next footstep brought it a lone step away. He crawled, hot tears streaming as he did, towards Perse. He had so little time before night came, but spared a moment anyways to caress the chin of the sawsbuck, patting him behind the ear where Perse liked to be petted. Talon reached down and pulled up the disc, the Talisman he had first encountered, the one that was a mirror of what he had seen his cousin perform against the behemoth that guarded the gate, a move he wanted to ask Glaceon to teach him someday, that he wanted to uncover the secrets behind.
"Another tomorrow," Talon said to himself, his voice alone in Hell, "one that will not come to pass."
There was no blue sky above, no heaven from where the Gods watched. But the Talisman Talon grasped with his white, icy paw would not be welcome above. The Talisman that beheld aurora beam was corrupted, not meant to be seen by the Gods. That alone caused the vaporeon to hesitate, his white pupils sharpening as they focused on the crimson runes etched onto the disc, ready to jump into his mind.
But the whites of the Talon's eyes shifted to his unconscious cousin and downed apprentice; he glanced at his brother and then at Ari, and he knew that if he refused to act none would survive. The musketeer looked down at the Talisman corrupted by Hell and, without a moment more, held it against his head.
Jesper Kyd's Emperor of Mankind
The knowledge from the Talisman entered Talon's mind like a whitewater stream, and all sense and reason was overtaken by a foaming red wave. His eyes widened in fear as his mind was overtaken by a sensation that can only be described as, simply, "red."
But the ebb of the red waned, then retracted, leaving behind in its wake pain akin to a brain freeze but also a knowledge, implanted into his mind and unmistakably omnipresent, of a spell.
Except there, in Hell, it was not aurora beam; it couldn't possibly be aurora beam, for the aurorae were a thing of beauty that graced the heavens, and neither beauty nor heaven was to be found. Still it was the same spell in essence, for Talon knew he had to reach beyond the sky and order the loose ice that danced about the firmament just as his cousin did fighting the behemoth above, but it differed. He did not know how, but was determined to find out.
The last remnants of the brain freeze receding, he was left with a clarity as to what to do. The vaporeon tried to stand, wincing as he put weight on his right leg. But as the pain jumped through his body like a jolt of electricity, he felt the potential of the spell maximise, the draw to use it intensify. He let out a heavy breath as he leaned on the broken leg more, and with the pain came power.
The realization shocked him, and he looked up at the colossus that stood before him, then further above at a distant, twinkling star that was almost invisible against the grey sky. Another wind blew from there, one that carried the sounds of bells echoing and battle being fought. He did not fight alone. He drew his blade.
"Talon! What ever are you doing?" cried out Icarus, who was barely picking himself back up. "Do you not see all is lost? My bomb is gone and your sword is not even a pinprick to Torterra. Pray that Yvetal's wings can reach us here, for the leviathan's advance is as fixed as a star in the sky!"
"Then I," replied Talon, wincing in pain as he made a cut against his white paw, staining it red, "I shall call forth a falling star."
Blood dripped from his paw as he raised it above his head. Energies began to bubble from him, flowing not only from his very core and coalescing into a ball of aqua-blue in his uplifted palm, but blood also, ignoring gravity and joining the coalescence. As his leg ached the sphere brightened, growing in energy. The star above it took the same colors, becoming more visible as the sky darkened, midnight approaching as the spell was invoked.
Talon looked up to see that the few clouds that had dotted the sky had dissipated, and something had begun to consume the moon, a red blight that shifted its hue. The once-pale rings of the moon that watched him no longer did so with intrigue, but with astonishment. That mirrored the eye of the Torterra, whose yellow eyes darted from the sky above to the vaporeon below. Ire in its very sight, with sap dripping from its maw onto the lands, the winds it ushered forth whispered another spell.
"Fall."
Vines shot up once more, but this time around Talon. They wrapped around the vaporeon like ivy climbing a pole and trussed him, trying to strangle him. By fortune he was summoning an ice-type spell, and the energies that were pouring out of his body resisted the lashing vines.
Still they tried to constrict, and as they did so against his broken leg he cried out in anguish. But the pain only further strengthened the power of the invocation and hastened its approach. Talon cried out and the star above grew ever brighter as the rest of the sky darkened.
Unlike Glaceon's spell, Talon uttered no chant, his growling invocation enough as he struggled beneath the pressure of the sphere his arm raised to the sky. Pain coursed though his body and blood seeped from his hand, the red misery joining the sphere and adding to its power. The colors on his paw—the blue of serene seas and white of snow accompanied by the blood red of himself and Hell—brightened until they became a blinding white.
He looked up once more and saw the false moon of Hell, now blood-red, was being outshone by the ever-brightening star that grew and grew and grew until its infernal radiance was blinding and everything else was black in comparison.
Statues toppled and the earth shook as the comet descended from above, and it was only because of the vines that lashed Talon into place that he remained upright.
The earth shook evermore as Torterra took another step. It moved with haste, now, trying to crush Talon, but it was two steps away. The musketeer continued to hold his paw up but felt drained, exhausted, as his heart pounded away trying to circulate what blood remained in him.
The earth shook again, and Torterra's foot destroyed the now-abandoned perimeter. One more step would crush him, he knew, but he needed to put everything he had into this spell. His growl turned into a cry, a scream of anger and defiance. The energy in his hand, though glowing ever-bright, diminished, disappearing as it was expended. But in turn the sky above turned completely black and the moon red. The star intensified, now no longer fixed but now falling towards them.
The leviathan, a breath away, roared a deafening cry that caused the Explorers to wince. It raised a leg, but Talon's hand fell.
A flaming comet, with ice the color of blood, fell from above and struck below. The Torterra let out a second cry as its shell was pierced by the attack, its legs giving way from the sheer force of the comet's descent as it staggered back.
Sap flowed from its eye, too, like tears.
Talon collapsed to the ground alongside Torterra, consciousness fading rapidly. He did not see that the Explorers, pressing the advantage, rushed towards the Torterra with a resounding battle-cry, with spells cast and weapons drawn. He did not see how it defended itself with lashing vines that took two more lives, nor did he see how it took the efforts of all who remained to extinguish the leviathan. He did not hear its departing bellow as it turned to dust, a curse thick with venom and anguish that held no more power against the Explorers. No, Talon had long since faded, having departed with little more than a whimper.
Chapter 11: Bells
The world slowly came into view. The blackened night sky of Hell before the comet struck was instead a high, stone ceiling. Blue eyes slowly opening, Talon's white iris lazily turned to his right.
He saw an audino tending to an absol he recognized as Java, the pilot of CLOVER's Xiphos dropship. Java, dozing away, had a horn broken from the impact, the top of it hewn off. Still, he was alive, and Talon thought that his prediction-making abilities were hardly accurate anyways.
The vaporeon's consciousness caught the eye of the audino and she let out a small gasp. She jumped quickly and made haste, leaving off to some unknown place. He looked then at himself, seeing a splint placed on his numb, injured leg. He looked at his left arm and saw his white paw was thoroughly bandaged. He grasped the air with his claws, surprised he was able to open and close them at all.
He then looked to his left and saw not a patient, but a zoroark sleeping as it sat upright. She donned a familiar pair of braids and a distinctive bead that split the tail-end of her flowing hair in two. Ari. Taken aback it was her by his side, Talon whispered, "Ari?"
Her ears perked up before her eyes opened, but when they focused on him her irises went wide in surprise. They moved them past him, towards the now-missing audino, and frowned silently. First she picked up Talon's feathered cloak, then the wearer, and left with both in her arms. She had no gauntlets on. The vaporeon blushed at being carried like so, and although he had enough energy to make an objection, he remained silent as he was carried outside.
Past the heavy wooden doors of the makeshift hospital he was met with a barrage of sensations he never felt like he would feel again. The air was fresh, crisp, and had the smell of the sea upon it. The warmth of the radiant sun greeted him. The winds that blew were gentle, serene, and thankfully without a life of their own. The sky was neither a fire-red of burning buildings nor the weary grey of Hell, but a beautiful blue whose color rivaled the sea. Indeed Talon could hear with his water-attuned ears waves lapping upon distant shores.
As Ari carried Talon though the town of Cheris the stone structures—while unable to rival the magnificence of adamant Noe—stood as a reminder of old Mist architecture with their ornate carvings and arches, even as they grew increasingly battle-scarred as they neared the walls that stood against Hell.
As they advanced, they passed by a bandaged figure Talon recognized: Sneasel, from the dropship, her ear nicked. They locked eyes and she looked at Talon with a scowl of disdain and fear mixed with admiration. After a moment's hesitation the sneasel approached and, making sure to not draw too near to the zoroark and vaporeon, said, "You survived, eh? If I see ya again, you earned the right to know my name. It's Mira. I already know yours."
As they advanced evermore, Talon's grogginess gave way to alertness, and with that came greater attention to the world. Still he heard the sea, of course, ever-closening, but as he was carried through Cheris he could hear the sounds of children and parents muttering, laughter—though rare and no longer innocent—filling his heart with ease. The sun above, nearing midday, still gave its warmth, but as sensation returned to him further he could feel the cold of Ari's claws and the warmth of her fur against his as they walked from under the gate. Ari's flaunting of the same badge Mira wore was enough to let them through, and Talon's eyes focused on that; with surprise he asked, "You joined CLOVER?"
Ari focused on him and nodded.
"Why?"
A claw dug into him.
"Myself?"
Ari did not answer with anything but a grin and instead focused ahead. Talon's eyes followed hers, looking for an answer. His heart resting as he saw, in the distance by the surf, a zorua and a glaceon by the beach. The wizard and apprentice, both clad in robes, were dueling, the latter wielding a halberd and the former parrying it with an ice-colored paw. When they caught sight of him Glaceon stopped, smiled, and opened his mouth.
From behind a small sand dune rose a previously-napping winter sawsbuck with a blindfold across his eyes. Perse's ears perked up and he rose almost instantly. A bellowing "Talon?" echoed out.
Ari let her passenger drop to the sand, and although it pained him to stand on two legs, it was less than before. "I am here, my dear brother," he said.
Perse galloped like a deer out of Hell, kicking up sand as he charged and practically headbutting the vaporeon, nearly throwing him back onto a dune. Perse nuzzled him, laughing and crying, wetness soaking his blindfold. The duo embraced, held tight, and felt one another's breaths.
"I thought," said Perse, "You would be lost forever. My dear brother, gone. But you are here! Thank all the Gods and Arceus above all others! You're alive, and we're united at last! I am sorry I couldn't be beside you; they told me I was too big and loud to be in the hospital, that I would distract others from their rest."
Talon allayed Perse's sadness with understanding, and even still he could not help but smile at the absurdities of his dearest companion; it was fitting of the unit they had joined, after all. Speaking of, he turned to two of the survivors of ARCANE who had approached with a walk instead of a gallop. Talon gave an admittedly awkward half-hug to Zorua before fully embracing his cousin who said, "I am glad you are well, Talon. Do you feel alright?"
Talon put a bit of pressure on his leg and winced. "I live. I will be better, I hope, soon enough."
Zorua looked from Talon to Glaceon who frowned and said, "And... mentally?"
Talon's ears drooped. "What ever do you mean 'mentally?'"
Glaceon's eyes looked past Talon who looked also, seeing two figures approaching them from above: a towering galarian articuno as well as a volcanora with seals of purity dotting its body. The vaporeon turned back to his cousin who said with a scowl, "The Marshals of The Order, they took interest in what you did to stop the leviathan and more when they learned what species you are."
Talon stuttered, "S-species? What has that to do with anything? And does not the alchemist use infernal energies?"
Glaceon opened his mouth, but a deep caw sounded out from behind as a heavy landing kicked up sand. The galarian articuno was already upon them, standing high above them, and beside him a silent-but-watching volcanora. "Sanctioned," he said, "and under careful watch, that alchemist. You, however, have no such permissions, Skywatcher."
The purple Inquisitor's gaze glanced over to Glaceon and he continued, "I know what you lot are; gatherings of those from your house are cursed, and what surprise it is that one of you can not only detect the storms of Hell, but call upon those energies. Why am I not surprised that it was you, Glaceon, that called forth this one to join us? Vermin breed vermin, after all."
Talon, however, would have none of it, and he said, "Why, you damned brute, you! I voyaged through oceans to your savage lands to help the cause, not to be accused of heresy and slandered! Would I have gone forth and fought off Hell itself were I an enemy?"
"Perhaps," came the reply as cold as its heritage, "it is a part of a greater bid, to gain our trust then undermine us from within. A pawn in a greater game of chess where a sacrifice can lead to a checkmate."
"Enough toying," Zorua's nervous voice called out, garnering the attention of them all.
Glaceon moved to speak, to forgive his apprentice's comment, but it was a signal from Ari that made him stop as he realized Zorua was merely relaying a message. Zorua continued translating, saying, "I have already struck a deal with you, Inquisitor. I will join CLOVER, this band of misfits, and keep watch for any heresy. You know I am an Infiltrator; a disguise true enough to fool demons is not where my pact with Reshiram ends. I can speak only in truths, and it is only truths I will report to you about this vaporeon. We agreed upon my return, did you not, that I would tell you at once if he is to fall to darkness? Surely you would not recant your statement upon knowing Talon's relation to others of House Evolution?"
"Hmph," said the articuno as it ruffled its purple feathers, "I am aware, yes, and no I would not. The Order is just, after all. When it has complete knowledge, that is. Which is why I merely came to inform you, Skywatcher, that you are to come to our camp for questioning. The power of your infernal attack is all the more reason to worry about you turning against us, and Ari's agreement is contingent only upon our satisfaction, something which is not guaranteed."
"So be it," came Talon's reply, "but now that I am here, might I have a few moments to enjoy the fruits of my labor; the company of my companions and the demon-free skies of Cheris?"
Blue eyes behind a black mask thinned. "I see that is why the Infiltrator brought you here already. A moment of reprieve before our questioning, hmm? She clearly has more faith in you than I. Misguided, I think. And what happens whenever that is realized, when you and that cousin of yours would betray Ari and escape? I can see by your paw you have raised your hand against a distant relative of my species before."
"A mistake of a younger self. And I, run?" Talon said as he gestured to his leg with the same paw, "Surely you, O magnanimous Inquisitor, have enough sight to see I cannot possibly do such a thing?"
The galarian articuno, after looking up and down the vaporeon with a scowl, turned to Ari and said, "Midday has nearly arrived. Not one hour after it has passed you shall bring him to us. Understood? If you fail I will think myself right; you dead and those eeveelutions escaped."
A reverent bow from Ari led to the silent moth and too-talkative bird to depart with a fluttering of their wings. Talon, breathing a sigh of relief in their absence, turned to Perse and whispered, "What a bastard. Demeanor ruins his whole appearance, I think. Alas, I'm being watched by Ari, eh? It would seem few can resist the charm of a musketeer."
A smack against Talon's head sent him tumbling down, and as his cousin picked him up the vaporeon heard Zorua relay, "I am mute, not deaf, you presumptuous fish."
Nevertheless, Talon gave Glaceon a smile that silently said 'she doesn't deny it' but, seeking to avoid causing his already-injured cousin further pain, Glaceon quickly changed the subject and asked, "Well, cousin, you've an hour. Is there anything you'd like? I can have my apprentice run and get you food. We can—"
Talon looked at the tantalizing waters of a nearby tidepool, and said, "I wish for nothing more than to rest there. That and your company, please, would satisfy me."
So they listened. Talon kept his dignity upon his refusal of Ari's arms, opting instead to hobble slowly over with Perse supporting one arm and his cousin the other. His paw dipped into the cool, shallow waters and instantly a wave of euphoria overcame him. "I may have no control over the energies of water, but by the Gods I am still a vaporeon."
As he settled the others joined him. Perse dipped a hoof in water before deciding to sit mostly in the sands, but Zorua, Ari, and Glaceon entered after shedding their robes. Talon could tell rather easily for them the water was too cold, that the brine was too much for the nose. But they joined him all the same, and for that he was thankful.
None said a word to Talon, and he relaxed in the silence that passed, the waves crashing against the shore causing him to lapse into a half-sleep. But as he opened his eyes to take in the sight, he saw his cousin eyeing him curiously. Thus Talon said, "You wonder about the spell, do you not?"
Glaceon's ears fell back at this, and although he tried to mutter an explanation Talon said, "Worry not. Rehearsal for the Inquisitor. It will all be truth, anyways. It was the corrupted Talisman. I am sure they confiscated the rest after the battle. I cannot describe it save for an overwhelming red and its power drawn from pain. But that red..."
Talon's eyes flicked up to the sky as if looking within his own head, "That red is still there. It is within my mind, but I feel that no other spell of the sort can be learned. A mind can handle only one corrupted Talisman, I feel."
Glaceon nodded, and said, "I was worried about you, cousin. Your spell was mighty but it nearly killed you. I cannot imagine channeling such power through a medium."
"I would hope," replied Talon, "that you do not, seeing as to how that tyrian articuno despises you. What ever happened to cause such disdain, might I ask?"
Glaceon smirked and said, "A tale for another time. Please, cousin, let your moments of freedom be pleasant."
Talon nodded and, before lapsing back into silence, said to his cousin, "A tale, eh? Would you not say this was quite the tale we had? An adventure for a lifetime?"
Glaceon laughed, "Quite the understatement. I've journeyed across worlds and this was quite the experience."
"Perhaps," said Talon, "I have gone mad; perhaps the Inquisitor will find my mind as hellstruck as he believes, for the wildest thought comes to my mind."
"And what might that be, cousin?"
"I've met you in the most unusual of circumstances and I have nothing but joy in that. You showed me a whole new world, one of hellfire and brimstone, and yet for the trouble of me being here, I would not dare have it any other way. I feel like a path has been opened for me, something far beyond the simple adventures I had back in my world. I feel like I can help shape a better tomorrow. I feel like it is even possible. Am I mad?"
Glaceon looked him over and, after a pause, said, "Most definitely you have lost your mind. Repeat such a thing to The Order and you will never see me again. For what you speak of is hope, and only madmen can find any now."
"Yet," came Talon's reply, "you feel it, don't you? Don't we all? A better tomorrow looms."
Glaceon's thoughts turned inwards before he said, "So long as we keep fighting, yes."
"Then fight we shall," Talon said, "And I thank you for having me aid in that fight, dear cousin."
The sky, then, dimmed. Talon then looked up to the darkening sun and saw the Cerberus hovering above, hiding behind clouds, the venerable colossus holding the sun in its jaw and wearing the sky like a heavenly drape.
A sound, then, carried by the winds, came over the five. For the sun was at its zenith; midday had come. The standing churches and cathedrals made it known to all within and surrounding the City that Stood. It made it known to the Explorers within that brought forth supplies and repaired battlements, made it known to the pokémon within who would remain to fight on another day.
In that moment Talon thought nothing of the lapping waters against him, not of the Cerberus hovering above or of the terrible inquisition he was sure to face; not even the Arceus fragment they had recovered came to his mind. His attention was fully on the sound the winds carried.
In droves church bells rang out, echoing over the lands. Tomorrow was coming, they promised, and was to be better than today.
Story written by DrakonFish (Find him on Twitter and Bluesky) Co-written and inspired by the universe of goblin_serf (Find him on Twitter and Bluesky)