Wood and steel was loaded onto carts, as workers cleaned the streets of Tirasford from the damage of the battle. The town resembled a warzone, a tornado of violence having thrown the streets into chaos.

Gareda’s sensory organs became overwhelmed as she took in the sight, the final free piece of the Azure Flute hidden behind her green scarf. Today was not a day to leave it behind closed doors.

‘What a mess…’

The Garchomp growled, each step slow and sluggish on the uneven cobble, her tail struggling to keep balance. Residents of all sizes scurried about, crying or shivering from the cold. The warmth of their homes had been destroyed, the windows having been blown wide open. Shards of glass and metal had been strewn about by explosives and Pokemon attacks, covered in a tinge of frost or soot. Some dripped with a dark substance. Gareda tipped one such piece over.

‘That better not be what I think it is.’ she thought to herself, her stature never so fragile. ‘If it is… Creator almighty, let no one be affected. Please.’

All throughout town, from the quiet neighbourhoods to the market squares, the bridges over the Entivesi to the approaches of Mount Tenebrous, a similar picture painted its ugly colours. Pokemon cried out over their lost relatives, their ruined communities, fearing the worst was yet to come.

The Garchomp shook her head as she passed, her head angled downwards. Who could blame them? Or shine a light in the darkness?

‘Got nothing to tell these people… nothing at all. It’s going to take a long time to rebuild trust. Agate Township all over again, except in the cold. And far less decisive. If I had to rely on Sword back then… what now?’

Avoiding the weary population, Gareda continued searching for Dritch. Luffy had gone off to help tend to the wounded, while Vli went to secure the city. He himself had declared that was the most important task at hand, leaving Gareda to deal with her own frustrations. The Othersider was out there. She had been that close to freeing him. That close. Yet he eluded her again. And with Tirasford full of holes, she couldn’t chase after him.

She put a talon against her chest. ‘At least I have the flute… load of good that’ll do without him.’

Much as it pained her, dwelling on missed opportunities only meant you’d keep missing them down the road. Back to the task at hand it was, for duty called.

She spent a little while directing civilians to the nearest first aid posts and community areas, telling them to look for relatives there. Step by step, order returned to Tirasford, and those responsible for bringing chaos to it in the first place were being apprehended one by one.

A Houndoom snarled at the corner of a street, its muzzle and feet bound so it couldn’t attack. One of its horns had been snapped off. The scarf coloured like its fur had been ripped, the tatters now falling out of a Toucannon’s bill.

“Hope ya enjoy the detention blocks!”

“Grr…mrphgrhrh!”

“Probably the most intelligent thing you ever said in your life. Take ‘im away!”

The Toucannon waved the Houndoom away with a wing. A Machoke seized them by the scruff of their neck, then dragged them away over the streets to the sound of a yappy dog’s whines. Gareda raised an eye at the scene.

“Vli? That you over there?”

“Hm?” Toucannon turned his head, then tilted it. Green band, stripes. “Why yes Gareda, it is me!”

Gareda affirmed with a grunt. “I’m looking for Dritch. Did you see her anywhere?”

Vli stretched a wing out towards a square on the edge of town. “Yup. Western Exit. Can’t miss her, she hasn’t moved in the last half hour.”

“Ever since the battle ended, in other words.” Gareda breathed in deep through her nostrils, stretching her back all the while. “Wanted to accompany me?”

“As long as you let me sit on your arm,” the Toucannon answered with a clack of his beak.

Gareda scowled at him. “Birdbrain. Get real.”

The Toucannon’s other wing jittered as he tried raising it. Gareda hadn’t noticed until now that he hadn’t moved it yet. “I’m real. Either you can drop me off at the infirmary, or you can give me a ride.”

The Garchomp grumbled out in disappointment. “Right… my apologies. Come along…”

She helped the Toucannon climb onto one of her arms, then held it out to make sure he had a good perch to sit on. As she started walking, she could practically feel the stares burn into the back of her head. From high-ranking Lord to taxi service. What a day to be a dragon.

On the other hand, it didn’t take much to pretend Vli was a Braviary. He sure had the weight of one. Gareda smiled at the thought.

‘If only Luffy was here. We’d be keeping birds when we retire.’ She scoffed under her breath, just as the wind swept over. ‘As if a dragon ever retires.’

Just a short walk down the road from the bridge, the square at the edge of town came into view. The homes here looked like a tornado had torn them open. Remnants of walls jutted out in the piles of bricks, wood and personal belongings. No civilians had returned yet. Were it not for distant crying and howling, an eerie silence would’ve long taken over.

In the centre of the square, Dritch stood on four legs, the hum of her metallic body vibrating Gareda’s sensors from afar. She hadn’t noticed them yet.

"Dritch?" Gareda made her way across, careful to not throw the Toucannon on her arm off balance. "I've returned with the flute piece. They failed."

No answer. The Metagross didn't so much as budge, nor did the slightest robotic echo emanate. She remained as still as a statue, claws gripping onto the dirt as the snow fell around, staring up at the jagged cliffs of Mount Tenebrous.

"Hello?" Vli cawed. "Can you hear us?"

"Loud and clear."

Quiet enough to hear a pin drop, the Metagross let go of her iron hold on the ground, her gaze on the mountain unbroken. "One of your comrades isn't with you. Where is she?"

"Volunteering at a clinic," Gareda answered. "She wanted to help the injured out. It's something she has a deep passion for, so I sent her to help."

She held her talons up as she stepped besides Dritch, then gazed towards the mountains as well. If any more monsters came barreling down onto Tirasford, they'd be met with all the ferocity she could muster in her teeth and talons. And she was far from throwing in the towel, even with the scrapes and ice covering her scales...

But there was nary a soul to be seen out there.

Dritch repositioned a single leg. It sounded as if it had slipped. "Excellent. So there are silver linings to this day, I suppose. All this destruction yielded no fruit."

Gareda nodded. "Indeed. It gave them a basket full of rotten fruit, if anything."

Vli flapped his wings. "Spoke to some civilians earlier. Largely apolitical folk around these parts, you know. They're not happy about this. They're all pointing their fingers at the Smaugus, too. Looks like we don’t have to worry about loyalty~"

“Don’t say that,” Gareda snapped at him. “We don’t know how people will react in a few days from now. And look around you. Does this look like the time to declare victory?”

The Toucannon leaned his head so far back, it looked as if his neck had shrunk. “N-no…”

Gareda shook her head. ‘Birdbrain.’

Dritch raised her body, her feet shaking. ‘Indeed,’ she said, her tone a hodgepodge of approval and concern. “We’ve got our work cut out for us if we’re to… secure the area. That is, if securing Whitiara at large is even possible at this time. All this chaos is only the opening salvo.”

“What do you mean?” Gareda asked, tilting her head to try and see Dritch’s face from the front, without walking in front of her. The Metagross seemed to be hiding it from her, given how she jerked and twisted her legs around to turn her whole body away. Gareda didn’t like it, but at the same time, she wasn’t following etiquette either.

“The Smaugus’ involvement in this, I understand. Truth to be told, we should have sniffed them out long ago. But we’re capable of pinning some lunatics down, aren’t we?”

A droning, metallic hum emanated from Dritch, as the Metagross’ legs turned around. Moments before, she looked no different than someone meditating, or deep in prayer.

But when she revealed her face at last, Gareda’s pupils shrunk down to tiny beads, her heart skipping a beat. An audible gasp escaped the Toucannon’s throat.

Entire chunks of metal had been torn from the Metagross’ body, cracks running deep around her eyes, held together by the dented and battered X that ran across her face. Globs of a black, oily substance had spattered onto the X, dripping down and staining the glistening metal with tint of smoke, the smell of rust and gloomy vapour rising up into the air, slowly seeping its way into Gareda and Vli’s nostrils.

And despite the injuries, despite the visible disgust and horror appearing on Gareda and Vli’s faces respectively, the Metagross’ eyes remained as unblinking as ever.

“Does this answer your question?”

Gareda opened her mouth, yet she struggled to produce a sound more definable than a note stuck in her throat. ‘What… the hell? Did one of them awaken…?’

“Wh-who did you run into?!” Vli finally blurted out, his legs close to losing their grip on Gareda’s shoulder. “Are they dead?!” He corrected his posture by beating his wings hard enough to cross a hurricane unscathed.

Gareda bared her teeth and looked away.‘Gods… there are no words for this. There are none.’

Dritch raised an arm, then put a claw at the edge of a crack in her body. “A Carracosta. Someone whose name is far too vulgar to be spoken now. Someone with an unquenchable hunger for power, and revenge. And in their quest for both, has sold their soul…”

“Are they dead?!” Vli poked and prodded. Dritch hummed out a dull echo.

“No. They are injured, however. I returned what she delivered onto me.” The Metagross tapped a claw on the crack. A thin glow appeared between the lines, and the broken metal rebonded slightly under the strength of a glow. “And she failed to steal the Creator’s gift from me...”

“Where is she?!”

With the same arm that Dritch had healed herself with, she pointed towards Mount Tenebrous in the distance. “Inside the mountain. Deep within the Mystery Dungeon. That accursed place.”

“Does she think she can heal there? Prepare her next attack?” Vli provoked further, sticking his bill forward. “That would be utterly insane, in the bowels of that evil mountain no less.”

‘Who says she wouldn’t feel at home?’ Gareda growled under her breath, her voice gradually rising as she pulled the piece of the Azure Flute out of the folds of her scarf, her tail dipping down close to the ground.

“Forget about her for now. We can deal with a fugitive later. Even one as important as that witch.” The Garchomp swallowed. “Dritch, you require medical attention. Urgently. We cannot discuss what to do next when-”

A sharp metallic rasp came back as a responde. “Do not fear for me. I am more than capable of surviving these injuries without medical intervention.” Dritch raised her body. “It certainly isn’t worth delaying important matters over. For one… we have failed in our duty to stamp out the Alliance. Now the Smaugus are with them. The good news, though… we know who our enemies are now.”

“L-Lord Dritch?” Vli chirped, his feet shuffling closer to the spikes on Gareda’s shoulder. “Surely you can’t just let bleeds that heavy go on unattended!”

“Metagross don’t bleed, Vli,” Gareda retorted while shaking her arm. “Dritch? Continue, please.” ‘And get off my arm, Vli.’

“Indeed, it isn’t blood.” Through the ominous echo of her voice, Dritch gave a small nod. “Gareda. Listen very carefully. I must activate every last measure at my disposal if Whitiara is to persist through this nightmare. The alternative is certain doom for everyone… giving up is not an option.”

Gareda silently stared at the Metagross, without budging so much as a muscle. ‘Usually I’d call her dramatic, but given the circumstances…’ “What do you need help with?”

Dritch produced a hollow hum, devoid of fear, passion, or anything similar.

“Help… I have my plans. And I have all the means at my disposal to execute those plans. To improve security. To protect the populace. To repel the invader whenever he strikes. We’ve done the best we could over these last few weeks, you and I, but this is something far larger than this snowy hinterland. There’s bigger fish to fry.”

The Garchomp raised an eye at the last remark, Vli looking to her for guidance. “Such as? The queen?”

Dritch nodded with both her body and legs. “Yes, the queen is a part of it. I shouldn’t need to explain to you what has been set in motion today. What the enemy’s ultimate goal is.”

“The death of the queen, and breaking the Seal.” Gareda blinked. ‘The first… any ordinary revolution. The second…’

“Indeed. Today is only the drop of rain that warns of the storm.” Dritch sighed. “As much as your presence here is appreciated, you are needed elsewhere. It’s on no uncertain terms that I believe an attack on Luminity itself is looming. A quick coup, as Eravate is smothered in a blanket of chaos and darkness. You need to return to Luminity, and inform queen Patrina of this as soon as possible, but.”

“But what?” Gareda asked, the growl on her voice growing deeper as her tail started to sway back and forth. ‘I don’t like that word. Always a bad sign.’

“Have a look.”

Dritch turned her body towards the south east, the claws on her feet lacerating the pavement as she dragged her legs across. Though all buildings near the square had been damaged, they were more than intact enough to block the view of what was past them, and the city at large.

“You’re from the Dragonspines, correct?”

“As any proper dragon would be.”

The tips of hills stuck out over the town’s skyline, albeit shrouded in mists. Gareda’s pupils narrowed into slits, yet she still struggled to make out what was in the distance.

“Listen,” Dritch continued, her voice soft and feeble. “Take that final piece of the flute. Hide it somewhere in the Dragonspines. Somewhere no one will expect to find it.”

“Not even Patrina?” Gareda asked, her talon itching for approval.

“Only those you really trust,” Dritch answered. “The Queen… whatever her opinions on the situation are… quite frankly, they are irrelevant. The Creator’s masterpiece is far too delicate for one person to decide the fate of. And her mind has deteriorated over the years. You knew this already, didn't you?”

“Yes,” Gareda answered in a low growl, flicking her tail up and down. ‘Anyone who’s met her can tell you as much.’

“E-Excuse me?” Vli hopped off Gareda’s arm. “She’d have your heads if she found out about-”

Gareda put her foot down. A large thud sounded as the talons crunched into the stone.

“We know.”

Vli gulped. “Err-”

Dritch’s eyes narrowed as she took a step towards Vli, her claws audibly cracking the pavement. “Pay attention. You’ve expressed your interest in becoming a disciple of the creator before. You have prayed with me. Know this: No mere Pokemon is unobjectionable.”

“It does not matter if she wants us executed for our loose tongues. Considering what will happen if we do not speak up now… that is a sacrifice anyone must be prepared to make. Understood?” The Metagross spoke in an eloquent tone, sophisticated and noble. Yet the heavy thuds of her arms, and the way her glare pierced through Vli’s feathers didn’t match.

“U-understood, reverend Dritch. My apologies.”

“Good.” Dritch turned back to face Gareda, who had lowered her talons as if ready to bolt off at a moment’s notice. “So… hide the flute piece. Afterwards, report to Patrina. I know. You do not like to speak with her. But if we can stop them on that final step…”

“...then it will all be worth it?” Gareda finished. “It’s as you say. I’d rather spend a week scraping bits of vine out of my scales if it means the world won’t fall to hell.” ‘What a great time we’ve come to.’

“That… is all,” Dritch said, the black substance slowly dripping from her face, into the snow. “Vli, I do have a request for you, however.”

“Yes, reverend…?” Vli nervously replied.

“You’ve been tremendously enthusiastic in learning more about the creator since you’ve arrived here,” Dritch began, speaking like the narrator of a fantastical epic. “I would appreciate it if you stayed here for a while.”

“What?” Vli tilted his beak.

“There’s much more you can learn, if only you stayed around here. I won’t force you to.”

Gareda’s eyes widened, an uncomfortable warmth heating up her body from the inside as she realized what Dritch had proposed.

“Excuse me? Where is this coming from?”

“Here.” Dritch raised a leg, and pointed it towards a spot beside the broken X. Gareda grimaced for a moment, then breathed in deep.

‘The heart. How clever, metal- I shouldn’t think of her that way.’

Vli peered up at Gareda, full of worry yet without fear. “Well, Gareda? What do you think?”

Gareda gritted her teeth, then grumbled out a sigh as the snow by her feet melted. “I don’t like having to give up on him. He’s still a companion, even if we did clash.” ‘More often than not.’

Dritch nodded. “Of course. But don’t think of it as me taking him from you. See it as missionary work. It will come to an end eventually.”

The Garchomp’s eyes narrowed. “How long does it take?” ‘Before or after the end of the world?’

“As long as he wishes,” Dritch replied. Gareda looked Vli in the eye, the Toucannon’s feet shuffling over the stones as if they’d been superheated.

“I… I need to think about it.”

“Right…” ‘What a non-answer.’

“Give it some time. Think it over, yes?” Dritch said. “That is all. If there’s no objections, I must go and check up on things. The prisoners being one of them.”

Gareda rolled her eyes. “Right, right… Where are you even going to keep a bunch of terrorists? They’d riot the second you’d let them off the leash for even a second.”

“Under the Bastion,” Dritch said. “The prison was not breached during the assault, was it? With extra security, they cannot do harm down there. Now, if you excuse me…”

Wind blew through the desolate square as the Metagross’ heavy legs whirred into motion. She sparsely answered with more than an ‘understood’, even as Gareda told her to get the damage to her face sorted out as soon as possible. The suffering of everyone mattered more than hers, despite them being one and the same. She was far from the only one injured. She saw her home destroyed just like so many others today.

But what was life to a walking supercomputer, besides a never ending quest to see the bigger picture?

Gareda shook her head, then turned to Vli. “So… do you mind sticking around for a while longer?”

Vli rubbed the joint of a wing with his bill. “Eh…I need a break from this hell.”

The Garchomp scoffed. ‘That’s sacrilegious.’

* * *

Chains rattled below the surface of the Bastion, a place where the sun couldn’t see. Black-Scarved Pokemon had their scarves ripped off, then thrown to the floor like mere rags, before being forced down into the prison block at the point of a talon. Though beaten, their expression remained ever so fierce. Prison life had hardly begun, and they were already spoiling for a riot. A chance to break free.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed on those already imprisoned here, who kept their faces out of the light as the newcomers stomped past their bars.

In one cell, a Nidorino poked his head out of the darkness for a split second. His spikes had been chipped, and blue bruises covered his purple scales.

“...Nero? Honey? Who do you see?” said a Nidorina further back in the cell.

“I don’t recognise any faces,” the Nidorino weakly grumbled. “Not our boy. Not that he’d ever end up with us here.”

She sighed. “I miss him so much.”

Nero retreated back into the cell, limping. “We’ll meet him again one day, love. I know we will.”

Nero touched Nera’s paw, and she quickly leaned into him the moment they were close.

Then, a holler from the cell door, which made both their heads turn as it flew open moments later. “In you go,” the voice on the other end said.

A snowy Darmanitan was shoved into the room, groaning. Nero and Nera were speechless.

Then, the Darmanitan noticed them, and smiled.

“Oi. Name’s Gama.”