Chapter 22: Courting Disaster

The Crowne Court had one main chamber and two accessory chambers. Naturally, given the high-profile nature of the trial, the main chamber was chosen, with its high-arched ceilings and stained-glass murals at the back of the room depicting Queen Calliope flanked by the warm, yellow-orange hues of torches.

Shimmer stood stiff as a board behind the white, oaken defense bench, bathed in the soft glow of candlelit lamps neatly lined up in front of half the viewing gallery. He stared at the equally white judiciary bench. It was high enough to barely make out the seats where the six jurors sat. Fortunately, the presiding magister’s platform was affixed to the base of a massive bronze scale, so Shimmer could see it without straining his eyes.

“Nervous?” Kain shuffled around some pages on the bench, then adjusted his blue vest and bowtie. A soft color to lull the jurors. So, at least the flygon knew that much.

“No,” Shimmer flatly said. What was there to be nervous about… Yuna bailing on him? Mother would make sure his grade didn’t suffer for her boneheaded decision.

Still, that wouldn’t stop his classmates from gossiping about it regardless the verdict. I can hear it now: ‘Oooh, that dragon knew something! Or maybe she was trying to get Prince Shimmer’s uncle executed!’

Shimmer took a breath. That dreepy’s deceitfulness would be dealt with later. All that mattered right now was—

“Ohhh, Shimmy-Wimmy! You gotta help me, you gotta!” a slurpuff cried from atop a comically small wooden stool on the defense’s side of the witness stand. He had an orange jumpsuit on and a glowing collar around his forehead. Benedict tugged at his bulbous cheeks. “I didn’t do it! I couldn’t do it! You can’t let them send me back to lockup.” His breathing rate quickened. “The other prisoners tried to spread me across their egg salad sandwiches! It was awfu-u-u-ul!”

Huge tear streams gushed down Benedict’s sides. The bisharp guard holding the chains Benedict’s handcuffs were fasted to raised a glowing hand. “Oi, cut the waterworks, scum!”

“Hey! Innocent until proven guilty!” Kain barked, pointing an accusatory talon at Bisharp. He rolled his eyes and lowered his hand.

Shimmer took another breath. The inquisitor’s bench opposite him was still empty. He knew the distortion situation had left the Ministry of Justice short-staffed, but this was ridiculous. Maybe there won’t be a trial. Maybe—

“And so… it begins.”

Shimmer’s heart shot into his throat. Black shadows pooled behind the inquisitor’s bench. Vegna floated out of the wall, his golden skull gauntlets flickering under the candlelight. The black hood over his head gave way to a cape that fluttered behind him. Why could the cape phase through solid objects? What was it made of?

“… no.” Shimmer took a step toward Kain. “This has to be a mistake! H… he’s my teacher! He can’t prosecute my uncle!”

He saw… sadness in Kain’s eyes. “Why do you think your uncle couldn’t find a private attorney to represent him?” The flygon bowed his head. “Nobody wanted to stand opposite the Grim Reaper on his return to court.”

Shimmer’s eyes widened. He knew! That damned public defender knew the whole time and didn’t say a word. To the Crown Prince, no less! “I—”

An authoritative knock reverberated through the room. The crowd’s murmurs — cripes, Shimmer had forgotten there even was a crowd — died down. Shimmer looked to the judiciary bench and found an oranguru in black robes holding giant palm fronds inexplicably molded into a gavel.

“In the name of Her Eminence, Queen Isola, and Her Benevolence, Queen Calliope, the Crowne Court is hereby called to order,” Oranguru declared. Behind him, a giant flame appeared on each side of the bronze scale. “I, Magister Oranguru Mellath, will officiate the trial of Mr. Slurpuff Benedict.” His expression sharpened as he looked down. “I ask of you, inquisition and defense, are you fully prepared to present your arguments?”

Kain looked to Vegna, who merely floated there with his arms crossed and his hooded head bowed. The flygon awkwardly gathered up his papers. “The defense is ready, Your Magistry.”

Mellath turned to Vegna. He was as motionless as a statue. Shimmer’s brow furrowed. Already up to mind games. Wait until Mother hears about this!

“… not yet. The inquisition is not ready yet.”

Kain’s wings buzzed. “H-Huh?”

Mellath’s brow furrowed. “Inquisitor Vegna, what is the meaning of this?”

For a moment, Vegna didn’t respond. Then a loud shriek echoed through the courtroom. “Good heavens!” Mellath stiffened in his chair.

Shimmer heard fluttering wings and looked up. Vegna’s wretched feral pet descended toward him and landed obediently on his right shoulder pad. “The inquisition… is ready, milord.”

“I see.” Mellath cleared his throat and straightened out his robes. “First off, there is something that the Court wishes to confirm with both parties.” He tilted his head. “Accused!”

“I didn’t do it!” Benedict yelped, only to squeak when the bisharp guard tugged on his chains. “Y-Yes, Your Magistry?”

“I see in your attorney’s paperwork that he is a public defender.” Mellath glanced stoically at Kain. “And one who has never defended in Crowne Court.”

Shimmer tensed. Even if the magister’s expression was unreadable, he could tell this was a bad first impression. Though he wanted to say something, Shimmer’s mind was still reeling from Vegna’s trickery. Had he pulled Yuna out at the last second? Who put him up to this? I’m going to find out, I swear it!

“I’m sorry, Magister.” Benedict squeezed his eyes shut. “When Mr. Grimmy-Wimmy got assigned this case, I couldn’t find anyone willing to defend me!” Tears dribbled down his face. “But I didn’t do it! Ya gotta believe me! I’m innocent!”

Mellath slammed his gavel. “Order! Do not speak out of turn like that again, accused.”

“Meep! Sorry! I get talkative when I—” Benedict shut up the moment Mellath raised his gavel again.

“… hmph. Public defender or private. Pauper or noble. It matters not.” Vegna’s eye smoldered under his hood. “The accused is the guilty party. That is fact.”

“Save it for your opening statement, Sir Vegna.” Mellath turned to the dusknoir, frowning. “Please remind the Court how long it has been since you last stood at the bench.”

Vegna held up four fingers. “Four years, milord.”

“I see.” Mellath looked down at his desk. “And you have chosen a high-profile homicide case for your return.”

“I am no stranger to such proceedings, milord,” Vegna exclaimed. He looked up at Mellath. “Minister Justine did not view my absence as a hindrance to prosecuting this trial.” Vegna pivoted to point a shadowed index finger at Benedict. “Better the accused get his due process than languish in the gaol awaiting trial while the Ministry of Justice is battered by staff shortages thanks to the ongoing distortion crisis.”

At this, the gallery broke into murmurs.

“Crisis?” “Is it really that bad?” “Her Eminence hasn’t called it a crisis. I believe in her!” “Wait, is it even safe for us to be here?”

Vegna’s right hand crackled with black energy and he slammed it on his desk. Talonflame ruffled its feathers in surprise. “Those whose hearts are sullied by cowardice do not deserve to be in the gallery,” the dusknoir growled. “Keep your worthless prattle confined to your country clubs and dinner parties.”

“Err, yes. But please remember I’m supposed to keep order here, Sir Vegna.” Mellath brushed sweat droplets off his forehead. “In any case, I did speak with Minister Justine and verified your claims. However, I do wish the record to reflect that this is a product of the current staff shortage. Under normal circumstances, this would not have happened.”

Shimmer had kept his mouth shut, but if he was going to raise an objection to Vegna’s presence, it was now or never. “Well, I’m not okay with this arrangement, Your Magistry!”

“Hmm?” Mellath leaned over and squinted. “G-Goodness! Your Grace!” The oranguru nervously flipped through his papers. “Ah, yes, now I remember. Your name was listed as an assistant for the defense.”

“Yes, and Inquisitor Vegna is the one who assigned me to this,” Shimmer declared, propping himself up to level his horn at Vegna. “He can’t prosecute Unc— err, the accused. It’s… a conflict of interest! He cannot both evaluate my performance and work against me.”

Mellath quirked a brow. “Sir Vegna?”

“I did indeed assign him to assist the dragon attorney.” Vegna and Talonflame bobbed their heads in tandem. “However, the assignment was made before the accused was charged with murder and I became the inquisitor.” He pivoted and pointed his index finger at the defense’s bench. “Furthermore, I stipulate that I am capable of impartially assessing his performance.”

Shimmer leaned forward. “And I stipulate that he can’t!”

“Your objection is noted, Your Grace.” Mellath scribbled something down with a fountain pen. “However, as the trial has already been called to order, proceedings cannot be suspended. We will continue as planned.”

Vegna brought his right arm out and slowly bowed. “I thank you, milord.”

Shimmer gnashed his teeth. He was sure there were some reporters filming the proceedings. He’d march that footage to Mother as soon as this was over and demand Vegna’s sacking.

Mellath cleared his throat. “Now then, esteemed jurors chosen from the Radiant public, are you prepared to uphold your sworn duty?”

Juror One, a herdier with a top hat and black cloak, enthusiastically nodded. “Aye, milord! We’ll throw the book at ‘im!”

The second juror, a glaceon in a maid outfit, looked skeptically at him. “I do not believe we are supposed to pass judgement until arguments are presented.”

The scyther seated to her left laughed while rubbing his arms together easily. “Bah! I don’t care how much he blubbers. All moneybags are nothing but swindlers!”

Next to him, a gothorita pecked away at a typewriter, seemingly ignoring the squabbling around her.

“Oh, I don’t know.” A meowth stroked his gray, bushy beard in thought. “The Crown Prince is willing to defend the accused. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, quite.” An elderly raichu looked up from her knitting needles. “But try not to rush to any conclusions. I’d love to finish this scarf for my grandchild.”

Shimmer tried his best to keep his blood from boiling over. These jurors sounded like complete airheads. Most of them already had their minds made up! How was he supposed to save Benedict like this?

“We just need to get to the testimony,” Kain said. “If there’s foul play to be had here, the witnesses are bound to slip up somewhere.”

Shimmer really hoped that was the case.

Mellath banged his gavel down. “All right. Sir Vegna, please proceed with the opening statement.”

Vegna bowed once again. “By your will.” He snapped his left fingers. Talonflame swooped under Vegna’s bench and returned with papers in its beak. The middlemost wooden panel on the judiciary bench opened to reveal a screen. An image of a magmar appeared. His bill was shriveled and the yellow flames atop his head dim and withering.

“The victim in this case is one Magmar Mortimer, a bricklayer with the Venish chapter of the Bricklayers’ Guild.” Vegna’s right hand glowed with pink energy. Mortimer’s picture shrank to the corner of the screen. Pictures of brick walls filled up the empty space. “It is said he developed his own technique for firing bricks that few within the guild could replicate. However, due to poor health from his living conditions, he could rarely accept jobs outside Venish.”

Vegna swiped at the air and a picture of the omnibus Shimmer had inspected in the evidence vault appeared. “At around 21:00 a fortnight ago, Mortimer boarded this omnibus’ inner carriage to return home from a guild meeting at a local pub. A nasty cold front had settled over Venish, which likely accounts for his decision not to use the rooftop seats. We submitted the meteorology report for the city before the start of the trial.”

Shimmer looked at Kain, who held up a map with strange colored markings. “The cold front hit my home in Herbrides, too. It was awful,” Kain whispered.

“At that time, the accused was already on board the omnibus.” Vegna pointed his glowing finger at Benedict.

“What drivel!” Scyther declared, stabbing one of his arms into the table then struggling to pull it out. “Nnngh… why would that moneybags need public transit? I bet he could… rrrgh… afford a fleet of carriages.”

Vegna crossed his arms. “You speak the truth, Juror Three. However, speak out of turn again and I will see to it your tongue is served to a pack of feral zigzagoon.” His eye smoldered with shadowfire.

Scyther’s arm came free. He shrank back in his seat, quivering.

“Um, Your Magistry, if I may?” Benedict squeaked. “I enjoy taking public omnibuses and commiserating with the good city folk.” He smiled. “The bouncing of the shoddy carriages always lulls me into a sense of ease. Sometimes I even drift off to sleep in them and miss my stop entirely. Ho ho!”

“… hmph. Continuing,” Vegna growled. The screen transitioned to show Mortimer lying in the open door of the carriage with a knife sticking out of his gut. Shimmer’s gut squirmed as he fought to keep his breakfast down.

“According to the inquisition’s witnesses, there was an altercation between the victim and the accused,” Vegna explained. “This led the accused to pull out a knife and stab the victim in the abdomen. The accused fled the scene before the omnibus driver realized what was happening. However, one of the passengers on the rooftop had a gemcom and used it to call the police. They arrived on scene and took the following photograph before the victim was rushed to Venish General Hospital. I submit this photo for the Court.”

Mellath nodded. “The Court accepts this evidence. Continue, Sir Vegna.”

The screen transitioned to show a knife with an embroidered B on its handle, along with a pair of leather gloves that had pink stains on them. “This is the knife used on the victim, as well as a pair of gloves found on the accused’s person. Stoutland Yard confirms the blood to belong to a fire-type.”

“Hold it!” Shimmer raised his glowing horn up in protest. “How can you be sure that blood belongs to the victim? Perhaps these gloves were previously stained by a fire-type’s blood.”

Kain stiffened, then hastily nodded. “The defense perused the passenger listing from the omnibus. While we acknowledge the victim was the only fire-type reported to use the omnibus that night, that evidence isn’t strong enough to prove the blood on the gloves is from this incident.”

The gallery broke into murmurs and the jurors exchanged hushed whispers with one another. Vegna lowered both hands onto his desk. Shimmer fought off the urge to smirk. At least they had found a vulnerable spot.

“I concede that I cannot prove this blood is from the incident in question,” Vegna said. “Nevertheless, the inquisition submits these items as evidence.”

“Accepted,” Mellath said. “The defense can elaborate on its points during cross-examination.”

“Now then…” Vegna held his right hand up and sent manilla envelopes floating toward Kain, the judge, and the jurors. “While the surgeons were able to stop the victim’s internal bleeding, he did not awaken from surgery. The victim expired two days later. This is the coroner’s report. The cause of death is necrosis of the victim’s flame gland secondary to hemorrhagic shock. And the only thing that could’ve led to such blood loss was the stab wound from the knife.”

“The Court accepts this report into evidence as well.” Mellath looked to Kain. “Any comments, defense?”

“My client contends that he fell asleep shortly after boarding the omnibus,” Kain replied, looking at one of his papers. “The first time he looked upon the victim is when he found him lying unconscious in the carriage’s open doorway. Mr. Benedict was so frightened by the scene, primal instinct took hold and he fled the carriage.”

“I see.” Mellath bowed his head in thought. “Very well, I believe I have a clear outline of the incident. Sir Vegna, please call your witnesses to the stand.”

Talonflame hopped back onto Vegna’s shoulder while he bowed to Mellath. “As you wish, milord.”

Shimmer propped his forehooves up. This was it. His best chance at poking holes into this story and, at the very least, getting the jury to gridlock.

Despair’s shadows twisted upon one another. His plague mask dropped to the ground and swallowed the shadows up like water through a straw. The crystalline husk that remained dropped down beside the mask. Faint, multicolored lights crackled around him. He dug claws into the dirt.

Someone was taking it. His power. The power that would end this wretched nightmare. And here he was… sitting around thinking a slow burn approach would work. Zapdos hadn’t even returned. Despair couldn’t even properly sense him.

Worthless. Worthless, worthless, worthless. Trying to scare the public straight was no longer an option. All that mattered was gathering as much power as possible.

Articuno and Moltres looked at him. Purple energy crackled around his claws. “Begone!” he snarled. The masks on the birds’ faces shattered. White light streamed into Despair’s outstretched hand. Yet the birds did not revert back to their original appearances. As they swayed back and forth, he flicked his hand again.

Purple cracks formed in the air behind the birds. Rifts burst open, sucking them both in. Despair clenched a fist. The rifts sealed themselves. The purple cracks vanished in trails of smoke.

He leaned over and picked up the plague mask and fixed it over his multicolored head. Gnarled shadows engulfed his body once again.

“They’re all in the Qliphoth now. I have no doubt about it.” He floated across the overturned pillars toward the edge of the distortion. “No one has any right to take them. They don’t understand anything.“

A puff of smoke gathered on either side of Despair, forming faint outlines. Latios. Zeraora. Both looked at him with hollow, empty faces.

“You are right. We are past the point of striking from the shadows.”

Two shadowy tendrils reached into the distortion and pulled it apart like a set of drapes. “Eternatus will die. Even if the planet must be sacrificed to make it happen.” The apparitions retreated back into the pool of shadows. “This is about righting wrongs. Reversing my failures.” He floated through the opening in the distortion.

“For the good of all universes, it’s time for the Qliphoth to know of Necrozma’s power once again.”

Before Noctum even opened his eyes, he registered a throbbing headache. The flickering lights of Cyril’s workshop didn’t help with that. They were too bright and too blue. “Ugh.” Noctum draped his arm over his face.

“He’s coming to,” Seifer said. Something poked Noctum’s right ribcage. “Hey, you still in one piece? Mentally, I mean.”

What was Noctum supposed to say to that? “No!” His throat burned, like he wanted to cough up a fireball. The charizard fanned himself with the edge of his black, membranous wing. “H… how can you stand there and be so… calm about all of this?” He tried to sit up, but the room spun. “This is… too much. I want to go home. I want to be with Yuna and Baraz. Not sit here and learn about some… secret empire of dead people’s souls inside World Ender!”

Noctum reached toward the Malice shard in his belly. “How am I supposed to go back to Horizon like this? Knowing about all of this? I can’t return to cooking and mopping up floors when there’s some kind of alien world rebellion that could sweep us all up!”

“… tch. Think it’s a bit late for that sentiment.”

Noctum couldn’t see Valkyrie, but certainly recognized her stoic tone. He glanced at Seifer. “I don’t understand.” The charizard swallowed hard. “Why aren’t you freaking out?”

Seifer grimaced. “You think I’m taking this in stride? I’m using every ounce of willpower not to buck one of those boxes of junk over there.” He swished his hair toward a stack of boxes behind him. “My horn is gone because of this. How would you feel if someone tore off your wings, huh?”

That was enough to get Noctum to slowly sit up. “Not good,” he whispered meekly.

“I’ve had years of experience dealing with bad news,” Seifer exclaimed, looking down at his dirt-caked hooves. “Plus, my life’s gone down the toilet. It’s easy to be unfazed by a sob story when you already feel like a trubbish’s insides.”

I could’ve done without that comparison. Though it got the point across, Noctum wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel sympathetic toward Seifer or not. Everything Cyril mentioned sounded a lot worse than losing a job and not being able to get your money.

“You don’t, like, feel bad for these people?” Noctum looked at his hands. “Hearing this compels me to do something to help, but I pledged myself to the Aeon royals and… nngh!” He grabbed his throbbing forehead. “It’s too much. Why did you have to throw it all on our laps, Ninetales?”

As Noctum turned to Cyril, a slam made his tail flame shrivel. Valkyrie had pinned Cyril to the wall, her arms pressed firmly against his torso.

“You’re way too trusting, dork.” Valkyrie glanced back at Noctum. “I prefer to see things with my own eyes, not go off some damned lecture.”

“Let him go, Valkyrie!” Noctum awkwardly stumbled to his feet.

The garchomp snorted purple smoke at Noctum. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“What are you talking about?” Noctum pointed at Seifer, then himself. “We’re all stuck here together. We’re not going to get home by—”

“Oh, brother.” Valkyrie rolled her eyes. “Weren’t you the one going on about how this was too much to handle? I’m offering you a chance to take a load off. You should be thanking me.”

Noctum winced. He had really set himself up for that one… and now he was at a loss for words. What was it about Valkyrie that always left him drawing blanks?

“Now then.” Valkyrie returned her attention to Cyril. “You think I didn’t catch that slip of the tongue? I didn’t tell you my name, so why did you almost blurt it out?”

Cyril’s ears folded. “Would you believe me if I told you I knew a garchomp named Valerie?”

Valkyrie unceremoniously dropped Cyril onto the cold metal floor.

“Woomph!” The icy ninetales rubbed his hips with several tails. “Easy on the goods.”

“Let’s try that again.” Valkyrie loomed over Cyril. “Start talking or I’ll fashion your pelt into one of them frilly scarves.”

Cyril’s tails frazzled. “Okay, okay!” He scrambled to his right, bonking into one of his rectangular metal machines. “I, uh… well, see for yourself.”

He stood up, ears and tails drooping. Blurry blue light washed over him. Soon four legs became two. Nine tails became a flowing red mane with black tips and a cyan pearl toward the end. The yellow scarf turned pink and white hearts peppered the fabric. He had identically-styled leggings going up to his thighs.

Noctum blinked once. Twice. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Finally, a tiny “Oh,” escaped his lips.

Valkyrie’s composure finally slipped as her jaw slackened. “What the hell… Fenrir?!“

The unmasked zoroark laughed nervously. “H-Hiya, Val. I can, uh, totally explain.”

Valkyrie broadsided him across the face. The zoroark spun around. “I… probably deserved that,” he wheezed before faceplanting onto the floor. Valkyrie had her right root raised to step on him when Noctum hopped toward her and grabbed her right arm.

“Woah, Valkyrie, easy!” The charizard didn’t put up much of a struggle, though. Valkyrie effortlessly freed her arm. “What’s the problem?”

Valkyrie stepped back. “The problem is this dweeb shouldn’t be here. He works for Chiaki’s family.”

Fenrir raised a shaky arm. “Technically I’m a freelancer who takes jobs for you gu— ayah!“

Valkyrie bent down and yanked him up by the end of his mane. “You think this is a joke? Do I look like I’m laughing?”

“Well, uh, kinda hard for me to tell when I can’t turn around.” Fenrir meekly flailed his arms and legs.

Eyes blazing, Valkyrie drove her knee into Fenrir’s rump. He skidded across the floor. Noctum stepped in front of her. “C’mon, Valkyrie. This isn’t helping.” The charizard held his arms out.

“Right. Sure.” Valkyrie huffed violet smoke in Noctum’s face. “And I suppose you can get to the bottom of this? You fainted from a freaking lecture.”

Groaning, Fenrir rubbed his rear with a paw. “You’ve already done a good enough job getting to this bottom. Twice.”

“Don’t make me come over there!” Valkyrie snarled. Noctum turned and gave the downed zoroark a look that said he was only making things worse.

“You’re right. I can’t,” Noctum said. “But beating him up won’t get us out of this predicament. I would think you of all people would realize that.”

Valkyrie glared at him for several seconds before stepping back. “… hmph. The only reason we’re in this predicament is because of you.” She crossed her arms. “I’m allowed to be upset about this. I’ve worked with that idiot and he tried to deceive me.”

Seifer managed to help Fenrir up to his feet. “Believe me. It wasn’t by choice.” Fenrir scratched his right ear. “It’s a very delicate subject.”

“Yeah, sure.” Valkyrie’s expression was icy enough to make a froslass blush. “So, was all that drivel about being some rebel ally garbage?”

“No.” Fenrir held his paws up. “I can explain it, honest, but—”

A buzzing noise sounded… from Fenrir? Noctum titled his head. “Um, did your hair just buzz at us?”

“Ah.” Fenrir reached a paw into his mane and pulled out a black headset. Noctum only knew what it was because of the pictures he’d seen of Starlene. “Yo, Boss Kitty, what’s up?”

Noctum exchanged confused looks with Seifer. Was he… talking with someone?

“I know you hate that codename, but it’s all I got until you come up with something better.” Fenrir chuckled nervously. “I— whoa, hang on. Slow down. What’s this about an ugly zapdos recolor?”

He’s talking about Fake Zapdos, Noctum realized. What if that meant Fenrir was talking to Gene? He had to say something. Gene was supposed to be their ticket home, right? “Um… excuse me?”

“Stand aside.” Valkyrie shoved a startled Noctum and stomped toward Fenrir. “Trying to ignore us, are you?”

Fenrir’s eyes widened. “W-Wait, no! You can’t drop ’em here, I’ve got com—”

Purple cracks formed behind Fenrir. Noctum immediately recognized the sight from the walk over. “Valkyrie, get back!” He reached for the garchomp and pulled her dorsal fin. A rift then opened from the cracks. A black-purple, three-fingered hand grabbed Fenrir by the scarf and pulled him into the rift.

“No, wait!” Valkyrie scrambled to her feet, only to get struck by Not-Zapdos and knocked back onto Noctum. “Grr, move!” She pushed off the charizard, who managed to blink the stars away only to find Not-Zapdos lying unconscious beside the other Malice Crystal.

“Our exit!” Seifer’s eyes lit up. He pointed the stump of his horn at Noctum. “Quickly, use your weird roar thing and break the crystal so we can get out of here.”

Noctum sat up, still a bit woozy, but nodded. He still had questions, but going home was what he wanted. Noctum took a deep breath… and yelped when Not-Zapdos’s body violently lurched.

The mask on its face shattered. Not-Zapdos opened its beak wide and rainbow light gushed out of it like water from a faucet. The light struck the Malice Crystal and shattered it, bathing the room in a harsh, purple glow.

“What the hell?” Valkyrie threw her arms over her face.

Noctum looked around in a panic. The door! Where was the door? He just had to find it before—

Before purple lines traced themselves across the floor, just like they had before a rift appeared behind Fenrir. Seifer caught on to this as well. The keldeo’s eyes widened. “No! Not again!” He fled toward the corner of the room, but it was useless. Noctum knew what came next.

The lines split the floor open under everyone’s feet. A dark purple rift spread throughout the entire room. Noctum had a fleeting moment to glance the worry on the others’ faces before the rift sucked them all down and sent them hurtling through a purple and black abyss.