Chapter 53: Queenly Majesties

It is unfortunate to hear about Beowolf’s defeat at Necrozma’s hands. But let’s face it, sir, he’s far from the most productive Paradigm lieutenant of the bunch. He’s a five or a six in a hand where you have royals, after all. Maybe you can come up with something unimportant for him to do when he finishes regenerating.

That aside, I’ve done some digging based on the reports you passed along to me. I believe I can draw two conclusions. The first is rather simple: there are no records of any “Zacian” present on Etherium prior to our Benefactor’s arrival. The so-called Luminous Sages did not have a Zacian in their ranks. Yet Radiant history is full of mentions of one who co-founded the kingdom and served alongside a rapidash as its first queen… and continued to serve as a figurehead for countless generations, far exceeding any realistic pokémon lifespan.

The second conclusion deals with the aforementioned Sages. Comparing the reports you provided me with Aeon scriptures and this foolish minister’s knowledge of certain… legendary species returning to Etherium despite sacrificing themselves to seal our Benefactor, the math doesn’t add up.

Between the original number of seals and the Sage descendants living in Etherium, one is unaccounted for. And I think it’s a fairy-type, to boot.

Could it be possible the so-called Zacian these Radiants speak of is actually the missing Sage? I’ll have to keep digging, but I suspect our Benefactor’s energy is involved in this.

Things passed by in a blur for Yuna. One moment her mother had her wrapped up in a hug filling the drakloak’s ear frills with murmurs of “big” and “proud” and other things Yuna couldn’t recall. Then the next thing she knew, she sat on a leather office chair far too big for her wispy body. A few small circular tables littered the carpeted floor in front of her. One had small water bottles. Another had a plate of berries. A third bore bars wrapped in silver foil.

Where am I? Yuna looked around, finding landscape paintings staring at her… and two more office chairs occupied by a dragapult and a black charizard. The former stared intently at the latter’s belly.

“Did you black out?” Reshiram whispered in the back of her head.

Yeah. Seeing Mom… I guess it shocked me so much I blanked.

“Gene gathered everyone up and said he needed to bring the pilot we captured to Cyril right away,” Reshiram explained. “Nikki was holding a dragonair — I think the one she was looking for all this time? — and your edgy grovyle friend is now half-salzzle, too. Noctum suggested we go somewhere to recuperate, and your mother demanded we be sent to a specific building in Scale City. So, that’s where we are.”

Yuna stared at the floor, blinking slowly. She supposed that made sense. But Scale City? The name was… vaguely familiar. Her mother had mentioned it before, back when she lived at home. Did that mean they were in Aeon?

“The group kinda split up after that,” Reshiram continued. “Valkyrie went off on her own, Nikki took the dragonair away, and Noctum brought you here. Which just about covers everything.”

The drakloak silently thanked Reshiram for the recap. She remained slouched in her chair, unsure of what to say to her mother. It hadn’t been that long since she bid the dragapult farewell, and yet it felt like an eternity had passed.

“Noctum told me what happened.”

Squeaking, Yuna squirmed in her chair, struggling to sit upright. Her bulkier, rectangular head was harder to prop up than she was used to. “W-What do you mean?”

“That you were both sucked inside World Ender— sorry, Eternatus.” Yiazmat slowly sat up in her seat. “That you are releasing Sages from their seals and gathering them in our family heirloom.” She locked eyes with the Soul Dew. Yuna couldn’t tell if she was upset.

“Ah.” Yuna subconsciously pawed at the Soul Dew. “It’s… complicated.”

“I can tell.” Yiazmat looked away, biting her lower lip. “Though that explains one thing.”

Noctum leaned forward. “Which is?”

“When your grandmother gave that to me, she told me, ‘One day, its purpose will become clear.'” Yiazmat rose from her chair and floated toward the cabinet on Yuna’s left. “She said she heard it from her mother who heard it from her mother who heard it from her mother.” She put her hands on the top of the cabinet, sighing. “That one line percolated through our family for God only knows how long. Certainly long before we assumed control of Aeon.”

“Wait, so you knew this was important?” Yuna’s Soul Dew had regained some of its luster, but it was still recharging from its prolonged use.

“I honestly thought your grandmother was being superstitious,” Yiazmat admitted. She opened the cabinet’s glass door and pulled out a tray with a couple of glasses and a green bottle. It hissed when she opened it. The dragapult poured herself a glass of fizzy water. She paused with her right hand wrapped around the glass. “Can you summon Saint Reshiram right now?”

“Uhh… not exactly?” Yuna ran her left hand across the gem’s cool glass. “It has a limit. And that battle kinda reached it. Maybe I can… do a tiny version.” Her face scrunched up in concentration. That fiery blaze in the back of her mind was as slippery as boiling noodles. She managed to latch on and tug.

A small, translucent Reshiram formed on the arm of her office chair. He looked around. “Hello.” Reshiram waved awkwardly. “I, uh, guess you’re Yuna’s mom?”

A croak got caught in Yiazmat’s throat. She put a hand to her mouth, then hastily sipped some sparkling water. “Goodness. Is that nasally voice… because of his size?”

“No? I always sound like this.” Reshiram puffed his cheeks out.

“I see.” Yiazmat set the glass down. “Very well. I want you and Yuna to listen carefully to me.”

The drakloak tensed. This didn’t sound good.

“Your father and I went back and forth on whether to share this… but it’s too pressing to discuss this matter with him.” Sighing, Yiazmat tucked her head down. “Yuna, you’re not my daughter by blood.”

It didn’t sink in for Yuna at first. She saw Noctum slump back in his chair, jaw open in disbelief, but didn’t acknowledge him. Yuna shook her head. “No. You told me my twin was a bad egg. Which was probably related to why I was so sick when I was younger.”

“We lied,” Yiazmat flatly said. She took another sip of sparkling water. “Your father… found you while leading a construction team building a trench to divert magma flow from one of the volcanoes. You were not an egg… but rather a silhouette encased in a crystal.” The dragapult hesitantly glanced over her shoulder. “Much like the one in Noctum’s gut.”

Yuna glanced at Noctum, who stared at his Malice Crystal in disbelief. He didn’t know either. No way the black charizard could put on such a convincing act for all these years. She met Reshiram’s gaze. He didn’t have to say anything to her. The look in his eyes made it clear: Yiazmat spoke the truth.

It had to be the truth. Why else would she say that? It made no sense for her to craft such a bizarre lie. So, why did Yiazmat lie about it all these years? Did she really have that little faith in Yuna’s ability to handle the truth? Why make her believe she had a twin sibling she would never meet?

Too many thoughts twisted themselves around in Yuna’s head. It didn’t make sense to her. “Why?” was all the drakloak could manage.

“You’d already had such a rough time of things,” Yiazmat whispered, tracing a claw along the rim of her glass. “With how sick you had been… I thought it would just hurt you more to hear that we weren’t your real parents.” She shut her eyes. “Your father disagreed with me, but ultimately ceded the subject.”

Of course he did. Her parents were good partners, but Calcifer often deferred to Yiazmat. Yuna wished he had tried asserting himself more on this subject. “I don’t… understand,” the drakloak muttered. “Avoid hurting me? You had me convinced my sibling died before they could hatch! How is that—”

She gripped the sides of her head. That same feeling from the battle was back. Something— no, someone trying to push themselves through her ectoplasm. It wasn’t a Sage, that was for sure. Yuna ignored Reshiram’s concerned look and turned away from them.

“In hindsight… I made the wrong decision,” Yiazmat said. “And I am deeply sorry for that, Yunavresca.”

The dragapult sounded sincere. But sorry was just a word. It didn’t change anything. Yuna curled her hands into the leather armrest. “What about the throne?” she said. “Everyone thinks I’m next in line. That’s why you sent me here.” Yuna dug her hands deeper into the leather. “Is that a lie, too?”

“No.”

“What?” That made even less sense. Why would Yuna ascend to the throne if she wasn’t truly the queen’s daughter?

“I couldn’t care less about a bloodline,” Yiazmat said. “You remember your history lessons, yes? Our family has only ruled Aeon for five generations. You’re still my eldest daughter. The throne is yours.”

Was that supposed to comfort Yuna? She glanced over her shoulder. Her mother stared remorsefully at the autumn hill landscape hanging above the drink cabinet.

“I completely understand if you need time and space,” the dragapult said. She finished the glass of sparkling water. “As Bahamut says: ‘time may not heal all wounds, but it can at least begin to close them.'”

Yuna smacked her hands against the armrest without realizing it. Noctum sat up straight in his chair, Malice Crystal flickering nervously.

“Don’t drag him into this,” Yuna growled.

Yiazmat blinked slowly. “What?”

“Don’t fall back on those worthless, two-faced platitudes,” Yuna hissed. A tiny, rational voice in the back of her head told her this wasn’t worth getting upset over, but Yuna ignored it. After all, Yiazmat piled on another lie, even if she wasn’t aware of it. “Guess Noctum didn’t give you the whole story.”

The dragapult turned away from the cabinet, tilting her large, triangular head. “Come again? What whole story?”

“Bahamut’s a sham!” Yuna smacked the armrest and floated off her chair. “Aeonism is a sham. A bunch of lies and half-truths cobbled together with paste and rope!” She saw her mother ready to retort and her tail lashed at the air. That inky black bubbled in her leg nubs. “Every Needle I’ve pulled… has shown me visions of the past. When Bahamut and the Sages were alive.

“They’re not gods. They were average pokémon like you and me who took jobs working for Bahamut,” Yuna continued while the darkness spread to her torso. “And when they were tired of it, Bahamut found replacements and passed on their powers. There is no Saint Reshiram… because there’s been a bunch of ’em!”

Yiazmat looked down. Reshiram shrank even smaller. “G… guilty,” he said, laughing nervously.

“And Bahamut himself? He was a terrible person! Spiteful, temperamental, and paranoid.” Yuna gripped the sides of her rectangular head and shook it. “Those other worlds the Book of Aeon mentions? He ravaged cities! Sank islands!”

The drakloak’s breathing finally slowed. Her body trembled. “We… we worship a lie. We worship a monster.” She sank back onto the chair and turned on her side.

Silence permeated the room. Slowly, the darkness retreated down her torso and leg nubs, like water draining out of a bathtub. Yuna expected Yiazmat to say something. Anything. But she stayed quiet. So did Noctum and Reshiram.

The tiny voice from before told her she blew up over nothing. Yiazmat still loved her and she was trying to show her that.

Yuna pushed those thoughts away. She didn’t want to acknowledge them. She wanted… privacy. Privacy she couldn’t get because of that infernal Soul Dew binding two souls to her.

… Maybe it was a good thing someone else was pulling Needles. She wouldn’t have to deal with any other voices in her head that could pop out of her chest at a moment’s notice.

And what about Leo? Yuna still had him to worry about. What was he even doing, stuck waiting on Bogdan with the others? She wasn’t really going to introduce him as her son to Yiazmat, was she?

“Go,” Yuna whispered.

“Princess?” Noctum leaned forward.

“Just go. Both of you.” Yuna curled up tighter. “I can’t. Not right now.”

She couldn’t see them with her face pressed firmly against the corner of the giant leather chair. But she heard shuffling, then a door creaking open.

“I’m sorry I hid the truth from you, Yuna. I still love you, though. That will never change.”

Yuna picked her head up. Yiazmat looked back at her, tail crinkled with worry. She smiled weakly at the drakloak, but Yuna lowered her head back on the arm rest and closed her eyes.

Deep down, Yuna believed her mother loved her. But it didn’t leave her feeling any less empty inside.

Vortex knew Dazzels had holding cells. Rarely used holding cells, judging by the dust clinging to the walls of the sterile gray interrogation room the charizard found himself in. He squirmed in his cold, metal chair. Vortex’s gray jumpsuit itched something fierce and the shackles around his wrists and ankles were no better.

“You should count your blessings,” the dusknoir floating toward the opposite end of the gray table said. Vegna turned a file over repeatedly in his hand. “Under normal circumstances, we’d jam a fire ring in that snout of yours to stop any funny business. I’ve heard it described as uncomfortable. Suffocating, even.”

Vortex curled his fingers — the Radiant Guard applied adhesive padding to his claws before tossing him in his cell — around the jumpsuit’s rough fabric. Vegna was saying that to get under his scales. Because he knew the reason why Vortex didn’t need a fire ring. He wouldn’t suffer the indignity of getting toyed with. “We both know what you want to say, so say it.”

“Very well.” Vegna opened the file, his red eye flickering in amusement. “A genuine case of imprisonerre. Never thought I’d live to see the day.” He paused to chuckle. “Or unlive, depending on your definition of ghost-types.” The dusknoir set the file on the table. “It certainly explains a few things.

“Forgive the discourtesy of my attempts at playing armchair psychologist.” Vegna drifted down until he was right next to the table’s edge. “Your drive to build Polaris into what it is today… I’m quite sure you were compensating for your inability to use attacks. To succeed in business where you failed at the elements. To have society see you as a success. After all… it wouldn’t matter if you were influential enough, would it? Money can make the world go ’round, and all that jazz.”

There. Vegna put it out in the open. Vortex drew his lips back in a snarl. “Trying to dig up a motive for my ‘crimes,’ I see.” The charizard leaned forward. “We both know it’s pointless. This is a farce. Her Em— Isola is scapegoating me for all of this. Conjuring up charges out of thin air to suit her narrative.”

He placed his shackled hands on the table. “You’re an intelligent ‘mon. Surely you realize that if I’m truly guilty of high treason, High Inquisitor Justine would handle the case.” Vortex’s own words echoed in his head. He had plenty of time to draw his conclusions. Even if they terrified him, it did Vortex no good to keep them to himself. “The only reason you’re here… is because you’re the Grim Reaper.”

Vegna stayed silent. His eye pulsated with red light. Another intimidation tactic.

“She wants me dead,” Vortex said, a bitterness to his words. “And while she could easily find me guilty and drag me off to get the needle, that takes time. Time I could use to talk.” He tapped his fingers against the table. “It would be far easier for her if I were to… suddenly suffer an unfortunate accident. Just like Benedict. Just like every defendant who steps foot in the Reaper’s court. That’s the real reason you’re here, isn’t it?”

The dusknoir’s expression didn’t change. He eventually pivoted to his right. “Rage, fury, intense indignation in cataracts of fire, blood and gall. In whirlwinds of sulfurous smoke and enormous forms of energy; all the seven deadly sins of the soul.”

Vortex rolled his eyes. He knew Vegna’s fondness for strange crypticisms. Supposedly they were poem stanzas, but they read like nothing one could find on Etherium. The charizard wasn’t outwardly impressed, but his heart was hammering. It sure sounded like the Reaper was here to kill him. There were no cameras. Vortex hadn’t seen any Radiant Guard in what felt like hours.

“You truly have no remorse for your actions, do you?” Vegna said, still looking at the dust-covered wall to his right.

“I did nothing wrong,” Vortex growled. His tail flame would have sparked, but it was covered by a special cone. “You said it yourself: what good is a charizard that can’t breathe fire? Or curry the wind to their favor?” He leaned forward further. “I built myself up from nothing using my wits and cunning. There’s nothing criminal about that. I saw a way to make Radiance better and I seized the opportunity. The wealth and notoriety that came with it were what I deserved.”

“Nothing criminal.” Vegna turned back to the table, flipping through pages. “Even as the pollution from your energy production wiped entire cities off the map, you knowingly hid the true source of ether from Parliament, the public, and the crown.”

“No. No, you stop right there.” Vortex held up his shackled hands. “Who do you think it was who told me about World Ender still being inside the planet in the first place?” His nostrils flared. “Why, Her Eminence, Queen Isola, of course.”

“Really?” Vegna crossed his arms. “That’s your defense?”

“It’s the truth,” Vortex countered. “The original ether plants used supplies of crystals I had gathered. Isola took notice. I saw an opportunity to spread my ideas to all of Radiance. She recognized the potential… and then assured me there would be ways to counter any repercussions from tapping into the distortion.”

“And when this wasn’t the case?” Vegna’s red eye crackled. “You chose to stay silent?”

“When it wasn’t the case… the idea for Icarus came about,” Vortex said, tensing up. Vegna was losing his patience. The end was coming, so the charizard had to finish saying his piece quickly. “A promise of unlimited energy… and an end to the distortion. Isola was the one who discovered the Icarus specimen and had Tesla locate it. We were confident in its capabilities.”

He sat up straight in his chair. “It all goes back to Isola. I’m sure of it. I chose to sit on that information as my insurance policy. You need to have a good insurance policy to succeed in business. I can’t expect a lawyer to understand that.” Vortex gripped the edge of the table with his padded fingers. “But it’s the truth! I combed through Horizon Academy’s records after becoming Chancellor. Isola… is not the same person she was as a student.

“Princess Isola loved painting and gardening… a-and she braided her hair and her tail in the most childish way one could think of.” Vortex could hear his nerves showing through. Vegna’s stoicism had finally cracked his facade. “But most importantly… she was due to get engaged to a male primarina. It was going to happen at the conclusion of the Crowne Cup. The previous chancellor was helping to plan the engagement with Isola in secret.”

Vortex looked down and shook his head. “But it never happened. Instead, she dumps the primarina and, a few weeks later, all the tabloids are reporting she’s taken Justine as a consort and offered her the position of High Inquisitor when she’d never shown the slightest interest in ladies! And those hobbies I mentioned? Tell me, have you ever heard of her engaging in them at all?” The charizard scooched himself to the edge of his seat. “No! They’re not even mentioned in media interviews! Doesn’t that strike you as the least bit suspicious?”

He had nearly slid off his seat. Vortex propped himself against the edge of the table. “It’s not just her, either. Don’t you find it strange Radiance has only ever had queens sit upon the throne? Not a single king in the entire lineage!” He would’ve thrown his arms apart in exaggeration if they weren’t shackled.

“You’re an inquisitor, for pity’s sake!” Vortex exclaimed. “You can’t seriously believe Shimmer is the first male to be born in the royal family’s history, can you? You have no idea how much I’ve had to bend over backwards for him at his mothers’ orders.” He began counting on his fingers. “Fixing grades. Sweeping misconduct allegations under the rug thanks to his… poor choice of behavior in public settings with and without that sylveon by his side. Rigging the Crowne Cup challenges to ensure his team would cruise to victory. But I went through with it all because I believed in my vision for the future of this kingdom— no, the future of the planet! And Isola returns that favor by stabbing me in the back?!”

Vortex slouched over, panting heavily. Somehow, he’d gotten his entire spiel out there. Vegna had not once interrupted him. The dusknoir merely floated there, bathing Vortex in red light from his eye. The charizard slid himself back into his seat. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he muttered. “The wealthiest ‘mon in all of Radiance ranting like a raving mad lunatic before the Grim Reaper.”

More silence.

“Say something, damn it!” Vortex stomped his shackled feet against the metal floor.

“In fierce anguish and qunchless flames, to the deserts and rocks He ran raging to hide, but He could not.”

Vortex tensed. Vegna’s eye… had shifted blue as the spoke. The dusknoir closed up his folder. “Before you conspired with the crown to open Citadark Isle, I worked my way up the penal ranks to become an executioner.” He picked the folder up and returned to turning it over and back in his right hand. “But after learning about the… changing political landscape, I chose to attend law school and later join the Ministry of Justice. Tell me… why do you think that is?”

The charizard tensed up. He… he knows? He knows there’s something wrong? But then why would he willingly work for a broken system? Unless… he was benefitting from that broken system, too! Just like Vortex!

He had to make one last plea. One final attempt to sway the Reaper to his side and—

The interrogation room door slammed open. “That will be enough, Mister Vegna.”

Vegna and Vortex looked over in unison. Demerzel floated in the doorway, but that wasn’t his voice they’d heard. No, instead he floated to the side… and an icy chill entered the room. Vegna’s eye sparked. “What manner of trickery is this, Clown Prince?”

Vortex tilted his head. That can’t be right. Vegna addressed someone that looked vaguely like Shimmer, but too many things were wrong. His horn was far longer, with streaks of icy white along it. He had a flowing, sparkling white mane and several glittery white tails where his puffy pink one was supposed to be.

(Art by Zoeoie)

“That’s Prince Shimmer, Inquisitor.” The ponyta narrowed his eyes. “I suggest you address me as such if you value your job.”

He never spoke with such conviction. And Shimmer was practically at eye level with Vortex’s standing height! What had happened to him?

“You’re dismissed, Vegna.” Demerzel gestured to the open doorway.

Vegna’s eye darkened. He tensed up and Vortex noticed a sudden ripple in his ectoplasm. “I’m not finished questioning the accused.”

“You are now.” Shimmer leveled his long horn at Vegna. The room grew even colder. “On my authority.”

The dusknoir floated in silence, then tucked his folder underneath his right arm. A right arm that Vortex swore look different than it did a mere minute ago. The charizard squinted. Were those faint white lines in his ectoplasm? Almost like tiny fissures Vortex would get between his scales when they got chafed after a night of entertainment.

… No, Vortex had to be seeing things. A ghost couldn’t have anything like that.

“Am I to be escorted out, then?” Vegna asked.

“You are.” Shimmer walked behind Vegna, keeping his horn levied. “Move. Now.” He followed Vegna out of the room. The door slammed shut behind the two. Demerzel folded his nubby arms under his robe and turned to Vortex.

“Here to gloat, are you?” the charizard growled. “You did something to Shimmer, didn’t you?” There was no way someone could undergo a change like that.

“Actually, you did.” A slight smile tugged at Demerzel’s lips. “Your company and its lovely pollution.” He crossed his lanky legs. “The good prince, distraught over the loss of his dear friends and having learned that he, like you, is nothing but a runt, chose to subject himself to a full course of World Ender’s distortion.” Demerzel shook his obnoxiously large head. “I figured you, of all people, would admire such conviction.”

Vortex wasn’t believing that for a second. “I don’t know if you’re some sleeper agent for Aeon… or you have your own agenda. Whatever it is, you’ll never achieve it.” He raised his shaking, shackled hands and rested them on his chest. “Look at me. I’m the proof. You’ve risen political ranks quickly because you did something to curry Isola’s favor… and now she’s just stringing you along. And when she has no further use for you,” he dropped his hands onto his lap, wincing from the heavy shackles, “she’ll get rid of you. Like she’s doing to me.”

Demerzel stroked his chin with his right hand. “I suppose that’s not an… unreasonable conclusion to draw from this. But really now…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head, sighing. “If you are truly such a skilled entrepreneur, you should have planned for such an occurrence.” He floated back and forth at the other end of the table. “You were playing the long game. Introducing all these ‘conveniences’ into the world designed to make your company and, by extension, you beloved by the people. To the point where the crown could never do anything to touch you lest they risk massive public outcry.”

The charizard looked down at his lap, blinking slowly. He gripped the fabric of his jumpsuit again, brow furrowing. Demerzel repeatedly claimed he was a mutant whimsicott. Exposed to the distortion. Did that mean…

“You’re working for them,” he whispered, unable to look back up at Demerzel. “You’re not an agent for Aeon, you’re an agent for World Ender!“

Demerzel sighed again. “You’re entitled to think whatever you want. But I’m not interested in power or public admiration. I truly believe it’s long past time for Radiance and Aeon to bury the hatchet. Unite against a shared enemy. Consider it… a parting gift for this sad, sorry little rock.”

Parting gift? What did Demerzel even mean by that?

“Your friend Tesla had some positively fascinating memories rattling around in that swollen head of his,” Demerzel continued. “These genesect you two planned to replace the Radiant Guard with? Quite interesting. I do hope you don’t mind if I activate them.”

Vortex’s eyes barely had time to widen before an invisible force gripped his head and pulled it up to look Demerzel in the eyes.

“In fact, I hope you don’t mind if I comb over all of Tesla’s… facilities,” he said, a cheerful smile on his face. “There’s a lot of value sitting there, after all. I’d hate for it to waste away because Isola decided to throw you both under the bus.”

This was bad. The charizard struggled to even get his mouth open an issue a retort. Demerzel’s psychic grasp was too strong. Had the mutant… really gone through Tesla’s memories and seen all the boltund’s projects? There had to be ones Vortex knew nothing about! But why bother admitting that out loud?

Did… did Demerzel know the Reaper was coming for Vortex? Is that why he was here? To make sure he could get his paws on Vortex before the Reaper could claim him as his next victim?!

“Now then.” Demerzel cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”

The pressure on Vortex’s head intensified. Even without any attacks, Vortex could tolerate heat. But this pressure quickly turned to an unbearable burning pain. The charizard couldn’t even scream. Demerzel had complete control of his whole head.

The burning pain grew and receded in waves. No doubt from Demerzel delving deeper into the recesses of Vortex’s mind. His vision grew blurry. There was nothing the charizard could do. No way to fight back or cry for help.

Then, for a few brief seconds, the blurriness gave way to something else entirely.

A golden dragon of light looked around at multiple smaller brown and emerald creatures that looked like they were made entirely of hexagons. They trained arm cannons and strips of multicolored hexagonal scales on the dragon. All the while, a few riolu and lucario with white and gold fur looked at him. Some with tears in their eyes. Others with fangs bared as they hurled their frustrations at him. Begging them to see all the good their grandfather had done for them. That he had made a mistake calling in these zygarde.

With a sharp gasp, Vortex fell forward. His head smacked against the cold metal of the interrogation room’s table. Vortex’s heart hammered in his chest, his breath ragged.

“Y… you…” Vortex struggled to blink away his double vision. Get two Demerzels back into one. “Wh… o are…”

“Shhh.” Demerzel leaned in and pressed a nubby paw to Vortex’s snout. “I have what I need.” A pleasant smile spread across his face. “And since you were so cooperative, I’ll leave you with a special gift. I know how frustrated your impresonerre makes you. I did just sift through your memories, after all. So, how about… I give you that fire you’ve so desperately desired?”

Vortex’s eyes suddenly widened. A psychic grip forced his head up once again. Demerzel placed a strange red square against his snout. Vortex crossed his eyes and, for a brief second, saw a message carved into it.

The power of defeated giants infuses this Plate.

Then the square disappeared in a flicker of orange light. Vortex’s nostrils tingled, like he’d huffed some bright powder. His head slammed back on the desk as Demerzel released his psychic grip.

“The changes won’t happen instantaneously. But when they do begin, you’ll know.” Demerzel turned to the door, opening it with a flick of his wrist. “In the meantime, I would advise you not to think too hard on, well, anything. Your mind’s in a fragile place right now. And I’d hate to see you end up a vegetable like the good doctor.”

Vortex heard hoofbeats.

“We’re leaving,” Shimmer said.

“And Vegna?”

“I saw something interesting,” Shimmer replied. “When he thought he was safely away from me… he braced himself against the side of the front staircase, talking about being on a timer and having to ‘find that mewtwo.'”

“Oh? Did something happen?” Demerzel’s voice grew distant, but Vortex could make out one final thing.

“Part of his body dissolved away… leaving holes in his arms and hands.”