Chapter 45: Igniting New Sparks

No matter the change, the end is the same.
No matter the change, the end is the same.
Stave stagnation. Unite them all.
Stave stagnation. Unite them all.

Flying was not natural to Chiaki. He was a grovyle. Birds were bad for grass. Every fiber of his being should have screamed in protest at what he was doing. However, as his new volcarona wings flew him over the pointed roofs and steeples of outer Vellguarde, Chiaki didn’t mind one bit. Every flap happened without any thought on his part.

… Which was alarming in its own way. That honedge couldn’t have been the same Abyssal Relic that Vegna mentioned. Unless the dusknoir was once another species or something, and the ritual he did with his book transformed him.

But Vegna doesn’t look much different from a typical dusknoir, Chiaki figured. The only thing that stood out were his sinister hood and the skull-shaped shoulder pads, which had to be a part of the whole Grim Reaper persona.

And why the hell did the honedge transform him into some salazzle hybrid? If he didn’t know any better, Chiaki would assume one of his siblings did this as a prank. He tightened his grip on Scarlett — the dragonair had apparently passed out while freefalling — and pressed on.

The city gave way to railroad tracks streaming out across stone bridges seated over a flowing river. Wild magikarp and basculin hopped out of the water. Chiaki wondered if they even knew about the purple rifts opening and closing at random in the sky. Nothing was going in or coming out of them, but they were still unsettling. Though, if the fish were ferals, they were probably too dumb to realize there were rifts in the first place.

Chiaki did his best to steer clear of all the bridges, aiming instead for a peninsula jutting into the river. The grovyle descended toward rows upon rows of evergreens. He weaved around pine needle branches — Chiaki couldn’t believe he was doing this — and did his best to avoid startling some of the feral bidoof and bibarel carving out bits of downed trees.

It only took him a minute of flying to find what he was looking for: a small log cabin perched on a hill. The trees around the cabin stood tall. The tiny brick chimney wore enough pine and sap to suggest no one had used it in ages.

In fact, no one ever used it. Because the cabin was empty. Just a wooden floor, wooden walls, and a brick fireplace that held what Chiaki was looking for: the transporter that would take him to the Ryujin’s secret underground city.

When the grovyle landed, his fiery wings disappeared in puffs of smoke. Disturbing, but he could think about it later. Chiaki walked up to the door and threw it open. The cabin was empty and dusty, including the fireplace.

Sighing in relief, Chiaki dragged Scarlett to the fireplace and fit her in, then squished himself beside her. Chiaki felt around until he located a loose brick, which slid right to reveal a keypad. After typing in 8-6-7-5-3-0-9, the keys lit up green and the floor beneath him began to glow. All the burnt grovyle had to do was place himself and Scarlett on the transporter and it would whisk them underground.

Chiaki slid the brick back over the keypad and took a deep breath, preparing himself for what would follow.

As a rule of thumb, all Ryujin waypoints deposited their passengers within different tunnels of a large catacomb system deep underneath Radiance. Deep enough to stay off the authorities’ radars. After all, when your city was below even the nearest sewer system, the odds were strong no one would ever think to dig down and find you.

Scale City itself wasn’t visible from the catacombs. It was hidden behind metal barricades disguised as natural rock formations. Chiaki wasn’t sure if his family had Cyril to thank for that, but he wouldn’t be surprised. Who else could get electricity working so far underground? Chiaki always assumed ether was pumped down from the surface, but now he wasn’t so sure.

What the mutated grovyle did know was that the security checkpoint was an issue. They’d question his appearance and his passenger. Fortunately, the walk to one of the hidden checkpoints had given him enough time to build up a cover story.

Chiaki slipped into his routine, hobbling through a brown tunnel until he reached what looked like a dead end. He tucked his head down, adjusted his grip on Scarlett, and continued forward. The rock wall was nothing but air. On the other side of it was a metal checkpoint with a seviper and a drampa standing guard.

“Halt!” Seviper held out its tail. “Identification.”

“I don’t got none,” Chiaki whispered, shuddering. “B-But you gotta help us! Me and my cousin… we got caught in a distortion blast!”

Seviper eyed him skeptically. His bladed tail glowed purple.

He pointed at his orange belly. “C’mon, mac, look at me! Ain’t no grovyle supposed to look like this. Ya gotta let me in! Crummy landlord kicked me outta my place! I got nowhere to go!”

“A likely story,” Seviper growled. “I know an illusion when I see one.”

Damn it. Chiaki had to think fast. “Salazzle Kyoko told me about the safe house in Guardhenge Forest to get here!” He believed his stepsister’s name carried more weight around Scale City than his. “Told me the Ryujin can protect me in exchange for me working for ’em!”

Seviper’s tail twitched slightly. Drampa stuck his long neck out from his comically undersized seat. “You got a name?”

“Grovyle Igneous.” He looked at his backside and the salazzle-like flaps that were there. “Or, at least, I used to be.”

“I can see that,” Drampa scoffed, looking at Seviper, who’d gone to a small phone booth beside his desk. Seviper flashed Drampa a panicked look as he hung up the phone.

“Terribly sorry for the trouble, Igneous,” Seviper said. “Miss Kyoko has asked to see you at her loft. Let me get you the directions.”

Chiaki avoided sighing in relief. The gambit had paid off. Igneous was one of a few codenames he used with his sister back when she was more active in the family business. Specifically, one he defaulted to when he was in trouble. Which he certainly was.

When Seviper finished explaining everything, he handed Chiaki a map of Scale City and opened the metal gate and door that led inside.

The grovyle immediately wrinkled his black snout upon stepping through. It had been a while since he was around Scale City’s… pungent odor.

Even though Chiaki kept his head down as he walked through the narrow streets, trying to avoid bumping into people or small stone and wooden street shops, he got the distinct sense people were staring. Yes, the grovyle was hardly a normal sight, but the city took in poor souls mutated with distortion all the time. Yet there was unmistakable scorn behind their looks.

It wasn’t until he rounded a few corners, passing crammed apartment buildings where windows were opening one after another that he realized he wasn’t who they were staring at: Scarlett was.

Chiaki heard murmurs, too.

“Is it really her?” “Dunno.” “Who’s the burnt grovyle?” “Bet he’s bringing her to Sakaki.” “Good riddance!” “She’s a disgrace to reptiles everywhere!”

Quickening his pace, Chiaki found the building he was looking for. It was hard to miss, with a neon sign jutting over the street reading “The Naughty Salazzle” in cursive, neon letters. Dingier compared to some of the bright signs on the surface, but Chiaki was sure the club’s owner didn’t care much. At this hour, it was closed anyway.

He scurried through an alley to the back of the building, where he knocked on a metal door. After a few seconds, the door opened to reveal Kyoko standing there in a pink silk shirt that barely reached her thighs. She blinked once. Twice. A third time.

“What the hell happened to you?”

Chiaki’s response was shoving Scarlett into his sister. “Hey!” the salazzle barely kept her balance while managing to grab hold of Scarlett. “What’s the big idea, asshole?!”

He rushed right past her, taking grated metal stairs two at a time until he reached another door that he flung open. Chiaki quickly pivoted left and staggered into a bathroom whose door he shut while his stepsister shouted, “Get back here!”

Chiaki shuffled across scuffed, dull gray tiles. He barely managed to grab the shower faucet and turn the hot water on before falling over into the tub.

Whatever energy had powered Chiaki’s escape had worn off, leaving him curled up in a ball, shuddering as hot water pelted him. Steam quickly filled the bathroom. Chiaki wasn’t sure if that was from the water temperature, or his new inner fire clashing against the shower.

Everything came flooding back. Ahsen, the strange amalgamation of floating discs who spoke in total nonsense. Vegna’s missing Abyssal Relic. The tiny orange butterfree and the intense pain it produced when it went inside Chiaki. And those strange visions—

Chiaki’s head pounded. With every throb, the burnt grovyle heard the same thing over and over: “Butterfree Effect.”

He inadvertently tugged on his head leaf, trying to will the pain away.

What did that thing do to me?

But if he hadn’t acted so recklessly at Starlene’s concert, Chiaki wouldn’t have needed to meet Ahsen in the first place. So, really, this was all just a continued consequence of his actions.

He wanted to prove he wasn’t a dead weight, and instead he’d turned himself into a freak. And not the kind who could hide his freakiness, like Cyril or Yuna.

Chiaki continued to lie in the tub, staring at his knees. He lost all sense of time passing around him. In fact, he didn’t even realize someone else had shut the shower off until a hand that clearly wasn’t his grabbed his head leaf and dragged him out of the tub.

“Ow, ow, ow!” Chiaki swatted his arms, hitting only air. He glimpsed Kyoko’s unamused face before she let go and his head fell by her feet.

“Next time, when I tell you to stop, you stop,” she hissed, stepping on Chiaki’s orange belly and pressing her right foot down.

Chiaki’s face scrunched up. His chest glowed. Eyes wide, Kyoko quickly stepped off of him, positioning herself between Chiaki and the door. “Start talking. You show up out of nowhere with Starlene herself in tow, then lock yourself in the bathroom and try to use up all the hot water!” She wrinkled her snout in disgust. “To say nothing of your godawful salazzle cosplay. You think that’s funny? I ought to bathe you in pheromones ’til you’re twirling around the poles downstairs for ladies’ night!”

“I—” Chiaki stopped himself. “Wait, Starlene? No, that’s a dragonair named Scarlett.”

“Don’t try to change the subject.” Kyoko jabbed his left thigh with her right foot. “What do you think I was doing before I came up here?”

The grovyle decided that was a rhetorical question.

“It’s all over the news.” Kyoko leaned over, pink vapor drifting out the corners of her mouth. “Starlene’s really an ex-Horizon student who willingly let Vortex’s company pump her full of ether so her music brainwashes people.”

That was already on the news?! What had Chiaki missed, some sort of Parliamentary inquiry?

To Chiaki’s surprise, his sister straightened up and crossed her arms over her chest. “I suppose, in that regard, I owe you an apology.”

Chiaki held his breath. There were too many tricks and traps as of late. He said nothing.

“You really were telling the truth. That something was up with Starlene,” Kyoko whispered.

The grovyle was pretty sure that was genuine. “Well, I—”

Kyoko then stepped on his groin. “But what the hell were you thinking blowing up her trailer?!”

“Gah!” Pain shot up Chiaki’s spine. He scooted back across the floor. “It wasn’t me!”

“The Ministry of Justice doesn’t feel that way.” Kyoko stared him down, hands on her hips. “They’re calling you a fugitive. Stoutland Yard has a hundred and fifty thousand radian bounty on your head.”

Color drained from Chiaki’s face. Was that Vegna’s call… or one of his bosses? The grovyle winced. “It was an accident. Think about it.” He curled his claws. “Why would I have brought Starlene here if I was out to harm her? World Ender’s agents were behind the sabotage. I tried to free her… but Cyril’s tech made the already-sabotaged equipment blow up.”

Kyoko again crossed her arms, but her expression softened slightly. “So that’s why you look like you a sorry salazzle impersonator?”

Chiaki looked down at his orange belly. “No, that’s not quite it…”

He lapsed into an explanation about waking up in the hospital, getting accosted by Ahsen, and receiving the corrupted Abyssal Relic that transformed him and allowed him to escape.

Kyoko facepalmed. “God, you really are hopeless.” She rubbed her temples, then tugged at the collar of her shirt. “What kind of idiot accepts a gift from someone who’s partnered with a World Ender cultist, huh?”

“The kind of idiot who’s a quadriplegic and staring at Citadark or death by the Reaper’s curse,” Chiaki flatly responded.

“And how do you know the creepy cultist didn’t plant some sort of seed in you to turn you batshit crazy whenever he wants?” Kyoko leaned forward, vapor trickling out of her nostrils.

Chiaki tensed. He didn’t have an answer. How could even prove something like that? A good psychic-type, perhaps. But the only one that sounded strong enough to approach the idea was Gene and Chiaki had no idea what he was currently up to.

“So what are you going to do?”

“Hmm?” Chiaki blinked a few times. Kyoko was looking at her reflection in the slightly grimy mirror, brushing wrinkles out of her shirt.

“You can’t stay here when, for all we know, you’re a ticking time bomb,” the salazzle said, eyes narrowed.

“But I’m a wanted ‘mon.”

Kyoko side-eyed her stepbrother. “Don’t give me that. Like we didn’t both learn how to make covers for ourselves.”

The grovyle’s face scrunched up. “You’re right.” He lowered his head. “I guess… Igneous has to be more than a codename.”

“Damn straight.” Kyoko bobbed her head. “Grovlazzle Igneous. Or Salvyle. I dunno. You’ll figure something out. Plenty of folks out there messed up by the distortion. You can count yourself amongst their ranks.”

It hurt for Chi— no, it hurt for Igneous to hear that. However, the grovlazzle had been similarly blunt to Nikki and Yuna in the past. He couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it.

“Can I at least… take a bit of time to collect myself before you kick me out?” Igneous hated groveling, but he wasn’t ready to leave.

“On one condition.” Kyoko turned and put her right hand on the doorknob. “You do something about Miss Diva. She saw the news and went catatonic.” The salazzle slowly opened the door. “Either she’s got acting chops… or she had no idea Polaris was using her to brainwash people.”

Kyoko didn’t wait for Igneous to respond. She left him on the bathroom floor. The grovlazzle pondered his stepsister’s claims as he sat up. If Kyoko was telling the truth, what would Igneous even say to her? He doubted “Sorry Vortex used you like a tool,” would carry any weight.

Not to mention she’ll at least know me as the guy who kidnapped her.

Igneous trudged out the bathroom door and down the hallway, wincing with every squeak the floorboards made under his feet. He stayed outside the living room door for a full minute, weighing his options while he looked at the dragonair lying on the black couch with her head and tail draped over each armrest and drooping onto the floor.

Rubbing his right shoulder, Igneous shuffled across the shag carpet. “Uh, hey.” He looked at the old CRT PV set sitting in a busted wooden cabinet with stacks of videotapes and discs littering the other shelves. Though muted, it showed footage of a midday lycanroc, swampert, indeedee, and eldegoss sitting at a roundtable. The swampert and eldegoss glared at each other. Igneous recognized it as “Lycanroc Blitzer’s Situation Room.”

Scarlett was silent. Sighing, Igneous walked toward the PV and hit the button to shut it off. “Look, I’m sure what you saw there was, uh…” His voice trailed off and looked down at his feet. God, why was this so hard?

Maybe if he imagined Nikki in her place?

… No. Over the last couple of days, he managed to make the toxtricity look like the responsible one.

Igneous sat down on the coffee table, facing the PV. “It’s me, Scarlett. The guy in the hospital bed you were yelling at yesterday. It’s… all my fault.” He rested his hands on his lap and kneaded his thighs. “I was selfish. I wanted to… expose you as a fraud to impress my family.” His long tails curled like salazzle tail flaps. “No, that’s not right. That’s what I told myself to justify it. But I think… I was doing it because I believed it could somehow fix the things I’ve always blamed myself for.”

He dug his claws into his scales, avoiding breaking any skin underneath. “It was stupid. I was stupid. And I blew up both our lives because of it. Literally and figuratively.” Igneous lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I’m sure it doesn’t mean much to you. If I could, I’d try to make it up to you, but I understand if you never want to see me again. Or want to turn me into Stoutland Yard.”

The grovlazzle couldn’t come up with anything else. He waited for Scarlett to say something. Anything. However, the dragonair stayed silent. Igneous deigned to look at her again. Scarlett hadn’t budged an inch. She still stared blankly at the ceiling, the pearl on her neck dimmer than back at the hospital.

“Can I get you something to eat?” Igneous offered, hoping maybe there was a fatigue element at play.

No response.

“Some water, perhaps?”

Still nothing.

Igneous was fighting a losing battle. Better tell Kyoko, I guess.

When the grovlazzle stood up, however, he heard a soft, “I only wanted… people to love me.”

He paused, unsure whether to say something or make eye contact. Igneous didn’t even move his arms. Did he tell her it was okay? No, no, that was way too corny.

“My classmates hated me,” Scarlett continued. She sounded… broken. “I wanted to go back to Blightsmuth… but I couldn’t. The people there looked up to me and Nikki. I couldn’t go back a failure. So when Vortex offered me a deal, I… I…”

The dragonair’s attempts to choke back her crying hurt Igneous. It was so painfully familiar. Because it wasn’t much different from his motives.

Love. Respect. The desire for each driving them both to do stupid things.

Only Scarlett’s stupid thing lasted a hell of a lot longer than Igneous’. And his stupid thing brought the revelation of her stupid thing to light.

“I’m sorry,” Igneous whispered.

More silence followed. The grovlazzle finally got the courage to glance at her. His chest tightened from Scarlett’s watery eyes.

“I want to scream,” she said. “To wrap you up and squeeze you until your head pops off.”

Igneous cringed. He’d had enough serious pain to last a lifetime.

Scarlett laughed bitterly. “I should’ve caught on sooner. All the songs I came up with were so corny. But Vortex told me that was what the people wanted. So, I listened. Like a big, fat sucker.” More laughter.

Igneous figured it was time to excuse himself. “I’ll, uh… leave you to your thoughts.” Again, however, his attempt to take a step away from the coffee table failed.

“Please don’t go.”

He hesitated. The doorway was still the more tempting option. “I’d rather not get strangled.”

“I just… need some company. For a bit.”

More silence, until the desperation got to the grovlazzle. He sat back down on the coffee table, awkwardly fidgeting with his hands in his lap.

“Never got your name, by the way,” Scarlett whispered. Igneous heard scratching fabric behind him. The dragonair must have pulled her head off the floor. Igneous waited a few moments before he responded.

“Igneous. I’m… Igneous.”

“Go away!”

Shimmer glared at his pink bedroom door. He sensed a strong psychic aura on the other side, but not his mother’s. Probably Demerzel. Perhaps if he glared at the door long enough, the mutant would get the message and leave.

Instead, more knocks assaulted Shimmer’s ears.

“I said go away!” The ponyta levitated a heart-shaped throw pillow and hurled it at the door. It made the saddest whumpf before bouncing onto the floor and showering sparkles onto the violet carpet.

This time, the door handle jiggled and met resistance from the lock. “Get it through your oversized skull!” Shimmer hissed. “I’m not accepting visi—”

The lock clicked. Shimmer scrambled to pull himself out of a pile of blankets before the door swung open to reveal Demerzel floating there. “Rough day?” he said with a polite tone that suggested he already knew the answer.

“I ought to have you disciplined for insubordination,” Shimmer growled. He tried to make his horn glow to look intimidating, but it could only fizzle and release a few sad, sorry pink sparks.

Sighing, Demerzel pivoted and leaned against the open door. “I don’t blame you for wanting to be alone. You’ve had quite the last twenty-four hours.”

“Then why are you here?” Shimmer growled, slinking down onto his belly and burying his face into his pillow. A psychic force yanked his head back up, however.

“To put a stop to… all of this.” Demerzel gestured at Shimmer’s bed and the mountain of tissues piling up next to it.

“I’m mourning,” Shimmer countered.

“Of course you are.” Demerzel folded his arms behind his back. “And that small outburst during Parliament’s session was part of your mourning process?”

The ponyta flinched. “Yes?” He looked at his pink blanket.

“You don’t sound sure.” Demerzel narrowed his eyes. “Do you have any idea how foolish you sounded? Throwing such a libelous accusation out with not a shred of evidence?”

Shimmer squirmed against his bedsheets and blankets. “It made sense in the moment,” he mumbled.

“You’re not doing yourself any favors.” Demerzel shook his head. “Several MPs went up to me, asking if you were drunk or on something. To say nothing of your mothers.”

“I don’t need you to tell me they’re disappointed in me,” Shimmer said, smacking a larger pillow with a hind leg. “They’re always disappointed. Nothing I do is ever enough for them. Even though I’m top of my class, have done several—”

Psychic energy clamped Shimmer’s mouth shut. “Stop.” Demerzel held up his right hand. “You really don’t know, do you?”

Shimmer blinked. Know what? That his mothers had sticks up their bums? One would have to be blind not to see it.

Demerzel sighed and floated away from the door. “I think there’s something you ought to see, then.” He reached under his cloak and produced a small crystal that he set on the floor. The mutant’s eyes glowed. Before Shimmer knew it, he was looking at footage of his mothers’ bedroom. Justine shut the huge oak doors and approached Isola, shaking her head.

“How are you holding up?” the virizion asked, a softer expression on her face than Shimmer had ever seen before.

Isola telekinetically ran a brush through her long, pink hair. “I’m keeping it together. What about you?”

“You know me. I’ve been waiting to see Vortex get taken down a peg.” Justine continued forward, laughing. When she reached Isola’s side, she took the brush in her mouth and gently moved it through Isola’s hair. “Buh ah’m not thuh one in hah wahtuh.”

The rapidash took the brush back from Justine’s mouth. “Yes, well, that is— something I’ll have to deal with.” She lowered her head. “What were my ancestors thinking? And just what did Adelaide do during the Darkest Day?” Isola turned around and approached a white vanity dresser with a large mirror in front of it. She levitated a pink silk cloak off a chair and through it over her back.

“What is this?” Shimmer narrowed his eyes at Demerzel. “Were you spying on my mothers?”

Demerzel’s expression remained neutral. “Keep watching, Your Grace.”

“Is that a raboot hole you really want to go down?” Justine wondered, approaching the dresser herself.

“I don’t have a choice.” Isola stared at her reflection in the mirror, then continued, “Well, I do. But one of the choices isn’t feasible.”

“Yeah, well our ‘brilliant’ son didn’t help matters.” Shaking her head, Justine reached the rapidash’s side.

“I should’ve cut him off.” Isola looked down at her gold shield. “I had no idea he was going to spew such paranoid bile.” She dropped the brush into the top right drawer. “Honestly. That dreepy princess is so sickly. Anyone with half a brain would realize she’s not a threat. She couldn’t even fight off a feral.”

“I wasn’t being paranoid!” Shimmer’s horn weakly sparked. “It’s… perfectly logical. Yuna was missing from the whole Venish debacle. That’s suspicious!“

“Then I think it’s time we told him the truth.” Justine leaned over, expression stern. “Don’t you?”

Isola’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t know. His mind’s frayed enough. This could make him snap.”

“Good.” Justine stomped a forehoof on the ground. “I’m tired of treating him with kiddy gloves. You ordered Horizon’s students return home for their safety. His school year is finished.” The virizion paced around Isola. “We’ve been handed a golden opportunity. Better to tell him he has eviolitis now than during some festivity where he tries and fails to evolve.”

Evi… olitis?

The word echoed in Shimmer’s head over and over and overandoverandoverandover.

… He must have misheard.

Shimmer couldn’t have eviolitis. It was impossible, because—

Because if that were true, then…

I can never evolve.

“NO!” Shimmer slammed his hooves against his mattress. “No, no, no! Stop feeding me lies! Eviolitis is… a commoner disease! I’m royalty! I can’t— that’s not—”

The ponyta descended into rapid, shallow breaths. His vision grew red. Demerzel’s expression remained unchanged. The mutant simply resumed the gem’s playback.

“I can’t imagine he’d react well,” Isola whispered. “He’ll fly off the handle at us.”

“I can take it.” Justine squared up her stance. “It is my fault. Given my species, I assumed my half of the family tree was clean of the gene.” She hung her head. “Perhaps that bit of guilt was what made me so willing to buy off all his perfect grades.” The virizion sighed. “It’s a good thing Vegna ignored meeting requests regarding his law class. He would’ve gotten all the evidence he needed to go public. Could you imagine the scandal? The country’s highest law enforcement official bribing a subordinate?”

Shimmer’s ears rang. He sucked in a sharp breath. There was no shouting this time. Only a dull, steady ache that ate away at the pit of the ponyta’s stomach.

Every grade… bought and paid for. He wasn’t the top of his class. Was Shimmer even smart? Vegna and his bird minion treated him like an idiot. Even if they had no evidence, they must have assumed that was the case.

“I do so wish I could fire him,” Justine continued. “But you’ve seen the numbers for yourself. Crime rates have steadily declined since the media branded him the Grim Reaper. The Yakuza are the only ones really causing trouble for us.”

Shimmer couldn’t care less about their thoughts on Vegna. It paled in comparison to what Justine admitted. The ponyta couldn’t stop his mind from racing.

What else had Shimmer’s mothers hidden? Was his modeling and acting also a result of backdoor deals? His club leadership positions at school?

… Was the Crowne Cup going to be rigged in his favor?

“Honestly, I’m kind of glad that sylveon got taken.” Justine sighed again. “I know that’s awful to say, but he was a terrible influence for Shimmer.” The virizion shook her head. “I see that look, Izzy. But you know I’m right. That sylveon was squandering what little potential Shimmer had. C’mon, you saw those shoots he was in. How is anyone supposed to take him seriously when he’s showing up on the cover of Playpunny in fishnets and a corset?”

The gem abruptly shut off. Demerzel levitated it back into his hand. He tucked it into his cloak. “I’m sorry, Your Grace.”

Shimmer’s legs trembled. He couldn’t stop shaking. “Sorry. You’re… sorry?” His right eye twitched. “Haa… aha… ‘sorry.'”

The pontya hopped up, nostrils flaring. “Shove your false sympathy up your ass!” His limbs shook harder. Shimmer was amazed he was still standing. “You don’t care one bit about me! My boyfriend is gone! My entire life is crumbling around me! I can’t evolve! I’m apparently a total fraud!”

With every shout, he stomped a forehoof down, until it broke through the top of the mattress and Shimmer faceplanted with a squeal, hind legs flailing around. Another psychic force pulled him upright and unceremoniously dropped him at the foot of the bed.

“Fine. You’re right.” Demerzel folded his hands behind his back. “No false sympathy, then. Instead, let me ask you something.” The mutant loomed over Shimmer, eyes glowing blue. “Do you intend to just roll over and take this abuse? Or will you actually stand up for yourself?”

How could the ponyta fight for himself? He was nothing but an embarrassment in Venish. Vegna had said as much to Shimmer’s face.

“I can’t fight,” Shimmer whispered meekly. “I’m… I’m nothing, aren’t I? Not smart. Not clever. Certainly not strong. I’m—”

“Pathetic? Of course,” Demerzel sneered. “But, as you’ve now heard, there are always shortcuts to be taken.”

Shimmer tilted his head, blinking slowly. “What do you mean by that?”

Demerzel’s eyes darkened. “I’m saying that you should never underestimate the power of desperation.”

For a brief second, the ponyta saw strange purple energy crackle around Demerzel’s oversized head. Then an awful, brutal chill ran up Shimmer’s legs.

The last thing the ponyta remembered was frost filling up his field of vision.