20. In Which Old Things are New

The world was cool and serene, a sort of calm that echoed that of still waters that she had never seen but knew with a great familiarity as they answered her stirring. She was dreaming of warmth and light and hope, as she always had before she found herself in this body, but she knew it was time to wake. Cresselia raised her head, and she knew her name before she knew how to speak a word. 

It took some time to learn how to open her mouth. By the time she managed to speak her first words, another being had formed at her side. He was far different in looks than her— dark coloring and a shadowed, hazy build rather than a bright, feathery one— but she had a feeling that the two of them were made of the same stuff, whatever it was. 

She settled into the shallow water beside him and put out a paw to shake his shoulder. “Awake. There is work to be done.” 

He blinked a few times before rising, clutching his head with a low groan. “I’m aware. A moment, please. I just had the most awful dream…”

Cresselia laughed. “Awful? There’s no such thing as awful dreams. Only pleasant ones.”

The being looked over to her, worried. “You must be mistaken. There’s only such a thing as unpleasant dreams.”

She tilted her head. “Are you ill? Perhaps that’s why your dreams are misbehaving. I can fix that— your hand, please.”

He gave her his hand, and Cresselia was startled by the weight of another’s touch. Still, she closed her eyes and settled her other paw over the back of his palm. It was simple to heal him— easier than breathing. She smiled proudly at her work. 

He pulled his hand away when she released it, flexing his claws and curling his hand close to his chest. “And what if you are the ill one?”

“You could heal me if you are so troubled by the possibility.”

“I…” He looked away. “I can’t. I can only provide sleep.”

“I see. I think I’m through with sleeping for now, though.” She looked around, finally curious enough to take in her surroundings. The shallow water they were in gleamed with a gold light that chased at curling wisps of darkness that streaked through the pool. She couldn’t decide whether the light and dark were in the midst of a game of chase or locked in a deadly pursuit. She didn’t pay it much mind. The cave they were in was very dim, despite the glow of the water, and she didn’t care for the dark. 

“Let’s see what’s out there,” she told her companion. 

“Mortals,” he replied. “There are mortals. You want to see them?” 

“Of course. Their belief shaped us, didn’t it? Make haste, Darkrai.”

He froze. “Who is Darkrai?”

“You, of course. Did you not know?” 

“I didn’t.”

Cresselia gave her fellow Legend a nervous glance. He didn’t know his own name upon being formed, he could only bring slumber and not healing, and he thought that dreams were only ever unpleasant. Was he unwell? Perhaps he hadn’t been believed in enough to be formed properly. She would need to keep watch over him to make sure he was alright. 

“Come along, Darkrai. Let us go out to meet the people who made us.” 

***

Darkrai was swiftly driven out by the mortals. It went well at first, with a welcoming reception by a number of the mortal groups in the area offering worship and offerings, but when night fell, the mortals were gripped by terrible dreams. They woke at dawn and forced Cresselia’s counterpart from their settlement, crying silly things like omen and demon and curse. Darkrai took it much harder than he should have, Cresselia thought, and she left the mortals to confront him as he sulked in the wilderness. 

“What did you expect would happen when you decided to torment them so? Mortals don’t like to be mistreated.”

“I decided no such thing,” he murmured. “I willed no nightmares into existence. Did you not see me, Cresselia, blessing them in what meager way I could? I cannot heal their wounded as you do. I gave them sleep as night fell, and the boon I gave turned into an affliction before my very eyes.”

She frowned. “You need practice with your abilities. You must not have realized what you were doing as you granted them rest and mistakenly bestowed your unpleasant dreams as well.” 

Her counterpart gave a heavy sigh. “I’m sure you’re correct. I will do my best to improve.” 

She left him to do so. The mortals welcomed her back with more offerings and praises when she returned. 

***

She found Darkrai lying face down in the dirt when she went to check on his progress the next month. She swiftly healed him, and he caught hold of her arms and lamented how he’d been trapped in his unpleasant dreams for weeks, unable to escape into wakefulness.

She sighed. Her counterpart was hopelessly incompetent; she was certain now that he hadn’t been formed properly by the mortals’ belief. “I can’t control your powers for you. It was foolhardy of me to wake you. You must learn to manage that yourself.”

“I don’t expect any such thing of you— Cresselia, I require your help.”

“You will find no success from coddling. I will wish you luck, and I will do no more.”

She left him alone in the wilderness without looking back. 

***

Cresselia was forced to travel in Darkrai’s wake despite intending to part ways entirely. He left a trail of unpleasant dreams wherever he went, and it was up to Cresselia to cure those who found themselves trapped in endless ones from which they could not wake. Even so, she didn’t approach her counterpart, finding herself more and more angered by those she found touched by his affliction. 

Darkrai approached her as she traveled to one town that was particularly tormented by what the mortals had aptly named nightmares. “Cresselia, I require your help.” 

“My help in what? Locking more mortals in a sleep so terrifying and endless that they may find themselves dead come morning?” 

He flinched, a heavy guiltiness overtaking his posture. “I can find no village immune to my misfortune. I’ve heard of your feathers preventing nightmares— if you would gift each of the people of one settlement, any of them, a feather, I would not need to wander in search of a place that—”

“You would have me pluck myself bare to conceal your refusal to control your powers?” She spat. 

“I do not refuse to control them, it is a matter of their refusal to be controlled—”

“Darkrai, you wretched, selfish thing, you know fully how simple it is to restrain your powers. Yet you choose not to, and all of these mortals suffer because of that choice. If you still insist that you cannot exercise the least amount of willpower and restrain such things, then leave for the mountains and never curse another mortal with your presence.”

He looked aghast. “Cresselia, have you no compassion? I’ve seen your mercy in healing the mortals you encounter. Why do you not hold any for me?”

“Because you are no more than a plague on these people’s homes and a burdensome weight I am doomed to carry. Leave now, before I drive you out myself.”

He refused. 

Cresselia won the ensuing clash, but earned herself more than just physical scars by doing so. 

***

“So you just— kicked him out? What happened after that?” 

Cresselia bowed her head mournfully low. “I drove him away from any mortals he came across, until he elected to remain in isolation for centuries and I deemed him no longer a threat. It was only several decades after that I saw his plot beginning to unfold, and I resumed my dogged pursuit of him.” 

Twig didn’t know what to say. 

“Make no mistake, human who wears charmeleon flesh, I am certainly the one that made him into the villain he was, and forged his hatred for the world about us. My vanity and selfishness in my youth left no room for kindness for the one who needed it most from me. Even Dialga and Palkia share less bad blood than my counterpart and I. But I believe your watch over him is far less scarring than mine was.”

“What the heck are you talking about?” 

“How should I put it… kindness takes fifty strides where cruelty takes only one? Ah, no, that wasn’t how your little guild put it… Smiles go for miles. Pay heed to your Guildmaster’s words. There is no truly bad pokemon. Only ones that are scared or confused.” With that, Cresselia plucked a feather from her neck and slipped it into Twig’s hand. She marveled at how it felt so warm and downy as Cresselia spoke once more. “Darkrai did not ask for his domain. He confided in me before our falling out that the universe was unkind in how it formed him, and I…” She sighed. “I must take my leave. Now that I know it is Darkrai’s presence that is ruffling me so badly, I find myself more willing to depart in order to get away from it. I do not want to test whether his continued exposure to my aura will return any memories of his.” She ducked her head in a farewell. “Good luck, Twig. Be brave, and be kind.”

And with a burst of light, Cresselia was gone, and Twig was alone— left to ponder over a life of sorrow forgotten by the one who had lived it.