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A leader makes a regretful decision.

A friend learns that he must fight for what he believes in.

In Chapter 7 of my ongoing series things quickly turn for the worse as Rubrum, Asher, Maestro, and Fey increasingly find hostile eyes set on them.
Can Fey remain hidden as he searches for the truth about Augusta?

Written by \n\t\t\t\t\tCrimsonFlowers ; please check them out for your own story ideas!", "writing": "Leap of Faith\n\n\tGolden light shone upon Akiva’s still mien; under her head, a pillow of Braviary feathers. Upon her breasts, a quilt knitted from Wooloo wool. The three stages of Arceanism were emblazoned upon its surface: the Creation, the Theft, and the long-awaited Reclamation. Such was Augusta’s destiny. \n\n\tWords rung softly from her lips: “Almighty master, creature of white snow, alight the flame within your humble servant.”\n\n\tAkiva’s eyes hung heavy. Like leaden weights, her arms remained pinned to her sides, her breathing slow and deep. Spirits wrestled within her guts. She stared blankly at the white pock-marked ceiling. Pain radiated from her temples.\n\n\t“We prostrate ourselves before your grace. All elements in their place, all Pokémon stationed such. We feel your gaze.” \n\n\tVoices buzzed within her head. Snippets, thoughts, from Augusta and beyond. Thousands of Pokémons’ worth of worries flooded her consciousness; amidst the clamor, Akiva could only make out a few snippets. A feminine voice belaboring her lazy husband. A child bored in school. Two merchants hashing out a petty dispute. A woman mourned her first breakup. \n\n\t“Your pain is ours. Your loss is ours. Your victory is ours. Everything we are, everything we shall become, is preordained by your grace. O, Arceus…” \n\n\tThoughts consumed Akiva. She could feel them rushing through her like a flood, overtaking her, becoming her. Three streets over, an orgasm. In the courthouse, hatred boiled over between a prosecutor and a witness. A Raichu grumbled on a far-off island. The dingy was cold beneath his feet. \n\n\t“Watch over us, master. Ordain our path. For the future of all Pokémon. Amen.”\n\n\tHundreds of lives infested Akiva’s mind now. Parasites. Flashes of sight, sound, and touch ebbed like waves. More than once, she felt the taste of death grace her palate; so, too, the horror of being born. Brief nostalgic meals danced upon her tongue. She yearned for memories she’d never had. Thoughts became indistinguishable amidst the crowd. Her eyes darted to and fro, catching illusory images in the periphery. \n\n\t“...there just isn’t enough…” “And she said there wasn’t a spark!” “I wish I could leave.” “My life is over.” “The coffee here is…” “It needs a square axle.” “That feels nice.” “I’m getting some for her on the way home.” “Humans… humans are a scourge.”\n\n\tThe Gardevoir’s eyes then flew open; greedily, she gulped cold, crisp air into her lungs. It flooded her, filled her, from head to toe. As if electrified, she then sat upward, swiveled her head from left to right. Her lips muttered another mantra now: “Blue curtains. White ceiling. Pink sheets. Sky blue walls.”\n\n\tOne by one, the girl focused on items within eyesight. And, as she had done hundreds of times before, she lazily reached into the nightstand, revealing a satchel of little white pills. They jingled in her palm. And, shakily shifting them with her fingertips, she popped two into her mouth. She swallowed them with a hum, closed her eyes. “White pills. Brown bag. Yellow sun. Green leaves.” \n\n\tEven now, Akiva could feel her mind settling. Her headache settled into a dull throb. She stood from the unstained sheets, then calmly folded them on top of one another. She fluffed her pillows, tugged at the blankets’ corners, and affixed them properly beneath the mattress. With a flourish, she then smoothed over the surface, banishing the wrinkles. \n\n\tTurning at a precise ninety-degree angle, the Gardevoir then floated toward her bedroom door, stopping short of its handle. And she tapped her fingers against its brass surface once, twice, thrice, four times – then opened it, turning the knob counter-clockwise. \n\n\tAkiva grinned. Not one error in her routine. Truly, today was going to be a good day. \n\n\n\n\tEvery day, rain or shine, Akiva traveled through the same streets. Her feet gently pitter-pattered above those unfortunate Pokémon curled in the gutter, random trash, and discarded posters. Printed upon thin glue-stained paper, her eyes stared eternally upward – that familiar slogan, ‘Because all of us deserve a better future.’\n\n\tAs Akiva floated up the myriad steps, she adjusted her silver hair, flowing in the wind. Even from the first floor, she could hear the bickering of her colleagues – something was obviously wrong. In a huff, she climbed the stairs. There was always something wrong.\n\nTwo Floatzels guarded the entrance to the conference room. Strolling along the red carpet, Akiva neared the ornate oaken entrance; an uproar clamored from within. And with a nod, the guards lowered their spears. Cowing their heads in submission, they didn’t dare meet her gaze. The Gardevoir didn’t speak a word. \n\nThe doors then swung open, and Akiva was met with a frustrating sight: stacks and stacks of paper, splayed wildly over the vast conference desk. Head in his hand, Maximus took his usual spot at the table’s head; the remaining Board members bickered amongst each other, smoked cigarettes, and gritted their teeth. Kane. the Gimmighoul, gawked at Akiva’s entrance. \n\n“Look who finally decided to join us,” he barked. Like a bayonet, he foisted his cigarette toward Akiva’s lithe frame. “We’ve been waiting, Akiva. Arceus, we’re in a state of emergency.”\n\nAkiva nodded, calmly took her seat. To her left, Hermes the Simipour, downtrodden as usual; to her right, Cassius’s empty seat. She replied: “I’ve arrived today at the time I always arrive.” \n\n“Well, you’re late.” Kane coughed, smoke flying from his tiny lips. A coin shook in his hand. “Did no one wake you? We sent someone to wake you.” And without waiting for Akiva’s reply, he blurted: “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. He’s fired. Done.” \n\nRaising a paw to her lips, Chairwoman Iris said: “Akiva, we’ve been quite busy this morning. We’re glad you’ve arrived.” \n\nHumming, Akiva replied: “Of course.” She then glanced toward Cassius’s empty chair; an indent of his buttocks remained on the gargantuan seat. She asked: “Is Cassius alright?” \n\n“Is Cassius alright?” Kane cried. He swept his arm wide and blathered, “Forget about that dolt! How about our army–” \n\n“Kane,” Maximus growled. With a pinch of his fingers, he forced Kane’s mouth shut. “Be quiet.” And much to Kane’s chagrin, his lips were sealed; finally, the room experienced some silence. Maximus took a deep breath of air, tapped his long-nailed fingers upon the wood. \n\nPlagued with exhaustion, he said: “Colm, please explain the situation once more.”\n\nNodding, Chairman Colm replied: “Of course.” And calmly, he turned to face Akiva. His eyes were pitch black, glassy. He explained: “Akiva, there occurred a major security breach two days ago in Haliford.” And with a sigh, he added: “Our military mobilization was an… abject failure.” \n\nAkiva raised an eyebrow. She frowned, leaned herself over the conference desk, and said: “No. No, that’s not possible. Haliford has no record of militia activity.”\n\nColm smacked his lips and replied: “That’s what you’d think. But we ran into an unexpected snag.” And, with a serious expression, he slid a primitive photograph across the table: in black-and-white shone the smiling face of a Meowscarada. Trapped within the thin layer of laminate, the Meowscarada appeared overjoyed. His eyes gazed at something just out-of-frame. \n\nThe Kecleon continued: “This individual appeared unexpectedly at Haliford prior to our invasion. It’s likely he followed us there from Augusta.”\n\nSquinting her eyes, pinching the photo between her index and thumb, Akiva said: “I recognize this boy from somewhere.” \n\n“You should,” Colm replied. “This photo is from three years ago during graduation ceremonies. And the boy is named Maestro; he’s the Academy’s star pupil.”\n\nIris interjected: “He works under Professor Rubrum, the aurum scholar.” \n\n“Wait.” Akiva then dropped the photo, asked: “What the hell is our top scholar doing in Haliford?” \n\nColm replied: “Stopping our military advance, that’s what.” Between his fingers, he fiddled with a folder’s edge. “Just as we were set to begin the acquisition, he kicked up the surrounding ash.” And with a sigh, Colm admitted: “Single-handedly, he fought off our offensive. He also injured Cassius. Heavily. Cassius’s trachea was punctured, and his right eye was taken. At this point, we… don’t know if he’ll make it.” \n\n“One Pokémon did all that?” Akiva echoed. “No. He has to have had help.” \n\n“Quite the contrary,” Colm contended. “I barely escaped with my life. But…” And he bowed his head. “You must also know, Akiva, that Cassius’s lack of patience had something to do with our failure. He decided to pursue our invasion one day ahead of schedule.” \n\nMaximus, against his will, physically cringed at the reminder. Refusing to look up from the table, he hung his head in utter embarrassment. The shame of a simple military excursion being foiled by a single Pokémon… he couldn’t believe Cassius would be so impetuous. \n\nColm continued: “Cassius also killed the negotiator whom the villagers sent us. He said he didn’t think negotiations were necessary. He also expressed that he resented being supervised.” \n\nMaximus then barked: “And why didn’t you stop him?” He banged his fist on the table, shot a deathly glance toward Colm. “It was your responsibility to ensure he didn’t deviate from our schedule.” \n\n“And I did my best,” Colm shot back. “But there is only so much I can do to contain a giant. A lumbering, doddering giant at that.” He then sighed, added: “Anyhow, Maestro could not be found following the assault. He is believed to either be with the remaining villagers or in hiding somewhere else. Likely the latter.” \n\nAkiva pursed her lips. Softly, she placed Maestro’s smiling face upon the table, crossed her legs. She then asked: “I trust you’ve canvassed the village?” \n\n“No, actually.” Colm’s demeanor betrayed a hint of embarrassment. “In truth, Cassius’s… um… performance has caused a litany of other problems.” He rolled a pencil idly under his index finger, staring off into the distance. “Before his injury, Cassius attacked retreating troops… his own troops. You can imagine what a disaster that’s been for morale.” \n\nAkiva blinked in surprise. She said: “There’s no way he’d be this careless.” \n\n“Carelessness has nothing to do with it,” Colm explained. “Cassius intentionally killed upwards of fifteen soldiers. Said something about them being cowards.” He sighed. “Rumors are flying amongst our army. Nearly half his regiment was killed. The remaining half are calling for his deposition.” \n\nWith a flourish of her tails, Iris interjected: “I’ve always known Cassius was a liability. But I never predicted he’d become so brazen.” \n\n“Brazen? He’s crazy!” Hermes whimpered. He didn’t look up from the mound of papers in front of him; endlessly, his aching hand scribbled signatures upon dotted lines. “I’m surprised he didn’t kill one of us first. He’s a danger.”\n\n“Don’t make such an assumption,” Maximus snapped. \n\nIris contended: “Regardless, we’re in a very precarious situation here. Soon, the army will become restless. Citizens will question where Cassius is. We cannot exist without a Chairman of Defense.” \n\nA moment of silence ensued as the room weighed their options. Smoke drifted upward from Kane’s useless cigarette. Hermes shuffled papers to and fro in an endless procession. Akiva frowned. \n\n“I advise that Colm stand in for Cassius while we appoint someone new,” Akiva said. “Their duties are most similar… and, moreover, Colm seems to have better rapport with our troops than Cassius does at the moment.” \n\nIris nodded and said: “I agree. Colm, do you think you could spin that?” \n\nFor just a moment, a devilish grin rose to Colm’s face. “Of course,” he chirped. “I’ve established quite a reputation among the common folk… especially those affected by Cassius’s recklessness. So I’d be glad to fill in.” Another smile. “Just for now.” \n\n“What about your workload?” Maximus asked. “I’m dubious as to whether you could perform two distinct roles at once. Peacekeeper and Chairman of Defense… there are only so many hours in a day.” \n\nColm simply replied: “And with all due respect, we are at a critical junction right now. Diplomacy is the least of our concerns – we must quell our internal strife before dealing with external threats.” \n\nWith a cough, Kane managed to open his mouth. He bellowed: “What about Haliford? What’re they doing now that their village is destroyed?” \n\n“Rebuilding,” Colm replied. “The best they can, anyhow. They also have formed a decent militia following our attack.” With a sigh, he then admitted: “In the wake of Cassius’s conduct, some of our soldiers have defected to provide local aid. They’ve bolstered Haliford’s defenses beyond our expectations. And their new village chief, a Seviper named Barbara, has rejected all envoys. As such, we are guarding their perimeter twenty-four-seven; they won’t starve, but they certainly won’t escape.” \n\nKane scowled. “Fucking nightmare,” he spat. “I can’t believe he botched such a simple job.” \n\nMaximus, of course, ignored Kane’s blathering. “Akiva,” he interjected. “Tell me… has the Symposium hit any snags?”\n\nAkiva replied: “No, sir.” \n\n“Then,” Maximus continued, “it is the obvious opportunity for us to clear the air on Cassius.”\n\nAkiva sighed. She said, “I suppose it would be. But the centerpiece of this event must remain our faith.” \n\nIris contended: “Naturally. And we’d never meddle in your event otherwise. But this is an emergency. If we hope to make a statement today – which, to be clear, would be ideal – then this is our earliest opportunity.” \n\n“Of course,” Akiva echoed. Her stomach ached at the prospect of her event being hijacked. “I… understand.” \n\nMaximus then added: “If it is alright with you, Akiva, I would like to make the announcement myself. I’ll abscond as soon as I can, of course. And we will assign you the necessary staff to prepare for my arrival.” \n\nAkiva shuddered. In truth, she was terrified to disappoint Maximus; and the prospect of his meddling in her work made her uneasy. But nonetheless, Akiva nodded and said: “I will expect you, then.” \n\n“Good.” Maximus then fingered around in his pile of paperwork, searching for the correct missive. Idly, he asked: “Now, Akiva… did you detect anything this morning as you awoke? Anything pertinent?” \n\nAkiva shook her head. “No,” she said. “Nothing out of the usual. Grumblings, snippets of memories.” She swallowed, added: “Although, I’ve noticed that anti-human sentiment has been increasing in frequency. I suppose that is a good thing.” \n\n“Very good,” Iris blurted. “I suppose that is the one silver lining of this incident… if we can maintain hegemony over how this incident is interpreted, humanity will become the one to blame.” \n\nJust then, a knock rang out from the door. Maximus admitted them; and in strolled a Meditite, holding a clipboard. \n\n“Chairman Maximus,” the Meditite said. “I’ve been instructed to inform you… Chairman Cassius is now conscious.” \n\n“Ah,” Maximus breathed. He then stood from his chair and announced: “Thank you. Everyone… please excuse me.” And, with a huff, he began to shamble out. The rest of the Board then lapsed into stressful silence. Iris hung a thoughtful paw by her lip; Hermes wiped sweat from his forehead, flecks of it dripping onto his paperwork. Colm, however, was not content to sit around. He followed Maximus into the hallway. \n\nJogging to catch up with the gargantuan Alakazam, Colm said: “Chairman Maximus. A word, please.” \n\nNoticing the small man’s desperate panting, Maximus said: “Ah, Colm. Of course.” His pace then slowed, his hands curling a little spoon to and fro in his grasp. He asked: “Was there something you needed?” \n\n“Not in particular,” Colm answered, and brushed himself off. “If it’s not inappropriate, I’d just like to talk a little about… Cassius.” \n\nStopping in his tracks, Maximus glowered. “Okay,” he said, and pointed to his left – a small conference room. “Let’s talk here.” Colm followed him inside. \n\nMaximus then closed the door, bathing the room in an uncomfortable silence. With a skeptical frown, he glanced downward at the little Kecleon; clearly, Colm needed to speak first. \n\nSo Colm said: “Maximus, I’m worried about Cassius’s mental state.”\n\nMaximus replied: “I think we all are. This event is… traumatic, to say the least. Recovery will be difficult.” \n\n\t“No,” Colm protested. Fear laced his downturned lips. “I’m worried about Cassius on a more… foundational level.” \n\nThe Alakazam’s brows narrowed. “Colm,” he began, “I–” \n\n“I know you’ve known him for decades. I know, I know.” Colm then took a deep breath, puffed through his nose. “It’s just that… during all those years, how often has he disobeyed a direct order?”\n\nMaximus scowled at the assertion. He bellowed: “Colm, you’re out of line.”\n\n“Am I?” Colm replied. Irritated, he shot a glance toward the hallway. “Look at what we are dealing with, Chairman. The greatest military failure in the past thirty years just happened. And whose fault was that?” \n\n“Yours,” Maximus growled. “I appointed you to be his supervisor–” \n\nColm then interjected: “And in what world should our top military official need a supervisor? They are the supervisor.” A scowl. “His conduct on the front line was completely unprofessional. What could I have done?” \n\nFor a moment, Maximus was silent. His gaze passed over Colm, instead fixating on the windowsill. \n\nColm continued, “He crushed the village elder’s head like a watermelon. In front of me. And within fifty feet of the front gate.” He then swept his arm, added: “And to defy protocol and order the assault a whole day early? Our soldiers were not properly equipped. We barely had time to make proper formation. Some soldiers charged that village with no weapons.” Colm’s voice was rising now, reaching a fever pitch. “And then he killed his own soldiers. Publicly. We can’t hide it. No misinformation campaign could possibly withhold it all. Victims are already coming out.” A scoff. “Not to mention the sexual assault allegations. We can’t hide these things forever.” \n\nMaximus’s expression soured. He said: “Colm, we cannot afford to make impetuous decisions.” \n\n“Chairman,” Colm asked, “What happens when Cassius recovers? Hm?” His stare intensified. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to reinstate him.” \n\nMaximus replied: “Show me one suitable replacement.” \n\n“I would,” Colm said, “but he’s been unilaterally axing his competition for years. With all due respect, Chairman, he’s been allowed to act freely for far too long.”\n\nThe looming Pokémon scoffed. He said: “For all this talk about due respect, you’re majorly overstepping your authority.”\n\n“But–”\n\n“I selected Cassius when he was still a Rhydon. Do we not owe it to him to hear his side of the story?” Maximus snapped. \n\nColm clapped back: “Yeah, let’s hear out the war criminal. Let’s listen to the rapist. I’m sure that’ll make a killer PR campaign.” Exhaustedly, he chuckled. “Do you not understand how big this is, Maximus? If you even think about reinstating Cassius, the public will burn you for it. Hell, they’ll burn all of us. The only solution is to cut our losses.” \n\nMaximus was quiet. Wordlessly, he shuffled his feet, frowned. Colm witnessed the gears turning in his head. \n\nThe Alakazam then said: “There was once a time I considered Cassius a close friend.” He smacked his lips. “But he’s different now. This position… changed him.” \n\nSolemnly, Colm breathed: “Yeah, well… politics isn’t about making friends.” He paused. “It’s about power. And if you want to keep yours, you’d do well to take him down while you have the chance.” \n\n\tColm then turned away and added: “I’ve said all I need to say. For my sake and yours… do something about Cassius.” He then opened the wooden door, stepped outside. “Goodbye, Chairman.” \n\n\tMaximus was silent. \n\n\n\n\t \n The air within the recovery ward was stagnant, putrid with the scent of cleaning solution and bitter medicine. Maximus gagged at the acidic vinegar smell. A single open window betrayed the sound of birds chirping; light shone through there, illuminating the gargantuan beast’s battle-scarred stomach.\n\nThe Chansey at his side nearly dropped her rags as Maximus approached. “Oh!” she huffed, and hastily dropped her load on the bedside table. “Ch–chairman Maximus. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were coming by. I would have cleaned up.” \n\nWith a raise of his thin-fingered hand, Maximus replied: “It’s no problem, nurse.” He then pointed toward Cassius and asked: “He’s conscious?” \n\n“Yes,” the nurse replied. “He’s foggy, but… we’ve confirmed it.”\n\nA quick glance at Cassius corroborated the claim. His remaining eye darted to and fro, reddened around the edges. Like an apple in a bucket, it bobbed. \n\nThe Alakazam cleared his throat. “Very well,” he said. “Nurse, could we please have the room?” \n\n“Of course,” said the Chansey. And like prey, she fled. The room was near-silent now, save for the uncomfortable gasps of Cassius’s punctured windpipe. A rubber-lined tube stretched down into his throat, continually pumping air into his haggard, bloody lungs. Crimson-stained bandages wrapped his head, his arms, his jaw. The beast was still. \n\nMaximus then dragged a wooden chair close, sat upon it. And with a touch of his finger upon Cassius’s rocky flesh, their minds connected. Without moving their mouths, they spoke. \n\n“Cassius,” Maximus greeted. “I’m glad you’re awake.” \n\nMaximus expected a smile, but that same horrified grimace remained upon the Rhyperior’s mien, stretched wide by the breathing tube; an expression of pain. His remaining eye quivered.\n\nAt last, Cassius said: “Maximus. You came.” \n\n“Of course I did,” Maximus replied. His expression softened. “How long have you been awake?”\n\nSpittle leaked from Cassius’s mouth. Expression unchanging, he said: “I don’t know. An hour.”\n\n“And the pain?” \n\n“Horrible,” Cassius said. “I feel horrible about all the… I feel horrible.” \n\nMaximus nodded. Awkwardly, he tapped his leg, then said: “I’m here to ask about what happened.” \n\nIf the beast could’ve huffed, he would’ve. Instead, his eyelid slowly closed over that bulbous sphere on his face; and he replied: “Of course you are.” A pause, and then: “Tell me. What happened?”\n\n“Haliford is under local custody,” Maximus replied. “The capture was a failure, but we have established a guard around the perimeter.” \n\nCassius’s chest rose and fell. He asked: “Is he dead?” \n\n“Maestro is alive,” Maximus explained. Crestfallen, he then added: “But… we don’t know where he is. I’m sorry.” \n\nThe Rhyperior shook. “Then why are you here?” he snapped. “You should be out there. Searching.” \n\nMaximus replied: “It isn’t so simple. You’ve caused quite a storm, Cassius. Soldiers are coming out against you in droves.” He paused. “They say they witnessed you killing deserters en masse. Is that true?” \n\n“Is that true?” Cassius echoed. His eye bulged from its socket. “Is that true? That’s what you’re asking?”\n\nMaximus shook his head. “You–”\n\n“You should be asking them why they ran from battle,” Cassius spat. His jaw, near-unhinged, frantically gnawed at the breathing tube. “They abandoned post, Maximus. They left me. They left us.” \n\nThe Alakazam’s shoulders hunched. His brow furrowed, and he said: “Cassius, this behavior is unacceptable.” \n\n“And now you’re chiding me? Am I a child? Do I tell you how to do your job?” A low growl sounded from the monster’s chest. “I’ve given my life to you.” \n\nThe spindling man clutched his spoon. “And our soldiers are calling for your resignation,” Maximus asserted. “What would you have me do?” \n\n“Defend me.” \n\n“Defend you? You’re not defending yourself,” Maximus replied. “We need an apology from you. Something. Anything. Your public image is in the toilet, and…” He swallowed. “...And the girls are coming out, too. It’s bad, Cassius.” \n\nThe comment seemed to give Cassius pause. Breath flowed unsteadily around his tube. “The girls,” he repeated. “The girls. The girls.”\n\n“Cassius, we–” \n\n“They’re fucking whores,” Cassius barked. “Every single one. Dumb, slutty, lying fucking whores.” \n\n“Listen.” \n\n“You believe them over me?” the giant pouted. “Hm? Is this where we’re at?”\n\nMaximus struggled to maintain his composure. He gritted his teeth and replied: “I’m trying to help you. You just need to tell me–”\n\n“No,” Cassius spat. “No, you’re not helping me. You’re trying to help yourself.” \n\n“That’s not true!” Maximus contended. “You started a grease fire with this stunt. You need to give me something. Anything. Because if these allegations go unchecked, then…” He looked off, out of the window. “Then all hell breaks loose. And I can’t do anything about it.” \n\nWith a chuckle, Cassius replied: “Good.” Weakly, he then raised an arm to point at Maximus. “We all ought to take responsibility for our actions. Set an example.”\n\n“What?” \n\n“The people who fled… they’re traitors,” Cassius puffed. “And traitors should die. All of them. Drain this fucking empire to its bare essentials. It’s about time we saw who was truly loyal to Augusta.” \n\nMaximus’s jaw hung open. “Cassius…” \n\n“When I regain my station, there will be no more bullshit.” A stifled cough, barely wheezed past his breathing tube. His bloodshot eye shook with fury. “Maestro will die. Rubrum will die. Every damn student he’s ever taught will die. And we’ll create something new, Maximus. You, me, and the Pokémon we appoint.” \n\nMaximus breathed: “Colm told me–” \n\n“Fuck Colm,” the Rhyperior growled. “When we finally cleanse this place, he’ll be gone. Gone. It’ll just be you and me. No bureaucracy. No meetings. No middlemen. You and me, ruling. Under Arceus. Forever.”\n\nMaximus stood from his chair. His legs shook. His lip quivered. \n\n“Think about it,” Cassius snarled. His lips shook wildly at the thought. “Imagine a pure state. A pure people. Ideo–logically pure. Pure in body. Pure in mind…” \n\nThe Alakazam felt a tear roll down his face. Salty, small, it fell along his cheek, dried into his mustache. \n\n “Just you and I,” Cassius said. “My only true ally. My only friend.” \n\nWeakly, Maximus whispered: “You launched the invasion one day early. Half your regiment is gone. The other half is deserted.”\n\nWords flowed from Cassius like vomit. “Then fuck them! Fuck them all. We can rebuild. Stronger, and better. With Pokémon who’ll do their damn jobs.” He wheezed. “We’ll conquer Haliford. We’ll take every fucking feral village by storm. Their blood…” He chuckled. “Their blood will herald a new age. A new fucking age.” \n\n“You’re not listening,” Maximus said. His voice was weak now, small. The beast barely heard it. “You never listen.” \n\nCassius’s body shook with excitement. He blurted: “We’ll save the world.” The smallest bloodthirsty smile curled his lips upward. “Maxie, we can save the world. Don’t you want to do that with me?”\n\nFor just a moment, Maximus could see the Rhydon he once knew. Underneath it all. That innocent, kind, naive boy.\n\n“What happened?” Maximus asked. He stifled the urge to cry. Shakily, he laid a long finger upon Cassius’s forehead. “What the fuck happened?” \n\nCassius’s tongue lolled from his misshapen mouth. He said: “What happened? What happened… is that we’re winning. Our enemies are on the run.”\n\nBeyond Cassius’s window, the clouds parted. Pidoves chirped. Sunlight illuminated Cassius’s round face. Maximus’s finger laid a long shadow across his mouth, as if slicing it in two.\n\nMaximus said: “At this angle… you remind me of her.” Resolution settled on the man’s downtrodden maw. “And it’s too late for you, too.” A quiet breath, a stifled sob. “I’m sorry. I failed you. I failed both of you.” \n\nCassius’s smile didn’t fade. Like a puppy greeting its owner, he stared at Maximus. And he said: “We’ll be immaculate.” \n\n“Right,” Maximus said. He shook his head. “We’ll be unstoppable.” \n\nEnergy then began to coalesce within Maximus’s core. It traveled through his blood, through every inch of his viscera, and cried for release. The man’s stomach churned. \n\nTenderly, Maximus then probed within Cassius’s mind. Starting at the brainstem, he sifted through Cassius’s haggard breaths. From there, he moved up, up, all the way to his parietal lobes. Maximus left the neural clusters smoldering, each touch of his mind stripping Cassius’s myelin sheath. The monster shifted in his bed as he felt his arms limpen, his legs grow numb. \n\n“Maxie,” Cassius whispered.\n\nHis parietal lobes gave way to the ocular; his ocular gave way to the prefrontal. Maximus lingered there, plucking the last fibers of Cassius’s consciousness. Frantically, those neurons sent signals throughout the brain, unaware that most of it had already been fried. Cassius’s eye flickered. A fleck of drool dropped from his lip. \n\n“Don’t worry,” Maximus muttered. “I’ll make sure you won’t choke.” \n\nA burst of psychic energy then wracked Cassius’s brain. Like an ancient ruin, the Rhyperior’s mind collapsed under its own weight; his memories, his dreams – they disappeared. Eye wide, Cassius drew his last breath. Maximus’s finger stayed there, resting upon his forehead. \n\nMaximus cried alone.\n\n\n\n“You don’t look half-bad without your mask,” Rubrum teased. With a flourish, he dripped his sponge within a bucket of warm, sudsy water. He then raised it to Maestro’s face, passing over the scrapes beneath the Meowscarada’s mint-colored fur. \n\nLess than day’s march from Augusta, swaddled between layers of foliage and tree trunks and detritus, laid a shoddy camp. A fire pit, two tents, and a stockpile of non-perishable goods; nearby, a stack of purified water. A crude metallic tub, too, sat there; Maestro laid uncomfortably inside.\n\nMaestro managed a chuckle. He waved his wrist, shot back: “And you don’t look too bad without your glasses, professor.” \n\nRubrum rolled his eyes. “Don’t sass me too much,” he joked, “or I might accidentally tear a stitch.” \n\nAnd indeed, the stitches were many. A large gash stretched across Maestro’s left temple, down to his lower cheekbone; such was the impact of Cassius’s arm-cannon. Maestro spoke in slow, slight movements. It hurt to smile; but around Rubrum, he couldn’t help himself. \n\n\tRubrum sighed, then said: “Seriously though, Maestro. Never risk your life like that again. You should’ve retreated the moment they broke through the gates.” \n\n\tMaestro huffed. “And leave an entire village to die? No thanks.” He then motioned toward a nearby tent, said: “Plus, you shouldn’t say something like that when a survivor is around.”\n\n\t“Well, I guess your nature can’t be helped,” Rubrum muttered. He worked his sponge over Maestro’s dirt-caked arms, his scarred back. “You’re very lucky, you know. Very very lucky. One scrape on the wrong artery and… well.” \n\n\t“But–”\n\n\t“You’re also lucky that Barb had messengers within the city. We might never have found you,” Rubrum scolded. \n\n\t“Right,” Maestro said. “I’m such an irresponsible student, saving a village of innocents.” \n\n\tRubrum quipped: “You’re also lucky that I love you so much, or I’d slap some sense into you.” \n\n\t“Believe me,” Maestro said, “Cassius did enough of that.” He then stared at his blood-soaked paw, flexed it to and fro. “I still can’t believe I took his eye.” He frowned. “I don’t even know if he’s alive. I… I might have killed him.” \n\n\tA moment of silence ensued. Shuffling then broke out from the nearby tent – Barb, packing her bags for the road. Her sharp, blade-like tail wiggled excitedly from the entrance, draped along the forest floor. \n\n\tWith a grunt, she then removed herself from the crowded tent, a backpack strapped along her serpentine body. She announced: “Alright, that should be enough.” \n\n\t“Good,” Rubrum replied. For a moment, he laid down the sponge, walked over to the Seviper. He then wrapped Barb snugly in his arms and said: “Thank you so much, Barb. I… I just don’t know what I would do if I lost him.” \n\n\tBarb quipped: “Me neither.” She sighed. “But, um… it was the least I could do. I couldn’t keep him in the village, anyhow. The Academy is going to scour the entire thing looking for him… and our medical supplies are thin as-is.” \n\n\tRubrum nodded, adjusted his glasses. He said: “Of course.” \n\n\tWith much effort, Maestro then righted himself inside the tub. He asked Barb: “How were things looking when you left? Is everyone alright?” \n\n\t“I dare say I don’t know much more than you,” Barb explained. “But… those who hid in the mines seem to be safe. And the border patrols seem sparse – likely owing to Cassius’s little psychotic breakdown.” She coughed. “Hell, I’ve even seen a couple of his soldiers tending to our wounded.”\n\n\tRubrum scrunched his nose, then returned to Maestro’s side. “What a terrible general,” he spat. \n\n\tMaestro shrugged. “Like it or not,” he said, “Cassius’s stupidity is what saved me. And I won’t look a gift-Mudbrae in the mouth.” \n\n\t“That’s true.” Rubrum then shifted his shoulders, attempting to soothe his aching muscles. He asked: “Barb… what is your plan now?” \n\n\tBarb replied with a hearty laugh. “What’s next?” she echoed. “Well, obviously I’m gonna take care of my own. I have a wife in town. Might try and reopen my bar… eventually.” \n\n\tMaestro quipped: “Even if the building is destroyed?” \n\n\tThe Seviper shrugged. “It’ll be an open-air bar for a while,” she admitted. “Regardless, Augusta is reeling. With all the soldiers they’re hemorrhaging, they don’t have the resources to try and recapture Haliford.” She then sighed, added: “Maybe I’ll try and find our people a new home. I don’t know. People are hurting.” \n\n\t“True,” Maestro said. He winced, attempting to stretch his arm out; staples held his joint in place, his elbow continually outstretched. “Much luck to you, Barb. I’ll see you again.” \n\n\tBarb smiled. “Of course, Maestro. Thanks for being a hero.” She then nodded at Rubrum, turned tail, and began her trek back to the ash-covered village. Only the screech of Ninjask filled the air now. Maestro sank into the tub, water sloshing around his battered body. \n\n\t“I take it the news in Augusta is causing a panic?” Maestro asked. \n\n\tRubrum smacked his lips and replied: “Last I saw, the Board had yet to put out an official statement.” \n\n\tThe Meowscarada raised an eyebrow. “Truly?” he asked. “That’s weird.” \n\n\t“It is,” Rubrum replied. “It’s a PR disaster, but… they’re still wringing their hands.” \n\n\tMore silence. Rubrum padded a soft sponge upon Maestro’s upturned nose, cleaned behind his fluffy ears. Globs of dirt and debris, tangled within Maestro’s matted fur, slowly came loose. They flowed down his shoulders in chunks, flowing alongside a torrent of brown water. The bath turned murky. \n\n \t“I love you,” Rubrum said.\n\nMaestro replied: “I love you, too.” A pause, and then: “What’s our next move?” \n\n“You and I?” Rubrum asked. “We do nothing. You need time to recover. A couple weeks, at least.” \n\nMaestro nodded. “Right,” he said. “But what about the rest?” \n\n“Well,” Rubrum began. “Our main focus right now is gathering some more information. And sadly, it’s likely that someone at Haliford recognized you – and by proxy, us. So that makes things more difficult.” \n\n“Yeah,” Maestro muttered. “I’m sorry.” \n\nRubrum closed his eyes and said: “There’s no need to apologize, hon. We just need to rethink our plan, is all.” He then sighed, rubbed his temples, and continued: “Before I left, we learned that the Arcean Symposium is happening today. It’ll be hosted in Ceres Square, and it stretches nearly a mile into the city. Huge.” \n\n“Really?” Maestro asked. “During the middle of a national emergency? That’s terrible timing.” \n\nRubrum shrugged. He said: “They planned this months ago… anyhow, we figure that if we’re going to hear anything useful about the weapon – erm, the Spear, it’ll be there. Fey will go alone, since he’s the most inconspicuous, and he’ll report back tonight. Asher, Sid, and Grimm will stay in the hostel.”\n\nThe feline seemed uncomfortable at the prospect. “What a shot in the dark,” he pouted. “We’re all wanted, and our plan is to attend a public event? What if someone recognizes Fey?” \n\nThoughts raced within Rubrum’s head. “Believe me,” he reassured, “if we had a better plan, I’d be executing it. But because of our previous… shenanigans… every governmental building is under extra guard.” He sighed. “No more break-ins. No more thieving. We have to get creative now. And, seeing as he’s so small, Fey is the least likely to be noticed.” \n\nMaestro reclined in the tub, finger to his lip. “Where is Fey gonna look?” \n\n“I’m not sure,” Rubrum replied. “In truth, our plan is, well… we don’t really have a plan. But they’re likely to make an announcement about Cassius there.” A pause. “If nothing else, we’ll know how they handle your little run-in.” \n\nMaestro added: “And we’ll know whether Cassius is dead.” \n\n“Right,” Rubrum said. “We’ll know that, too.” He then sucked in air through his teeth, said: “Although, I don’t know if anyone could live with a stone through their neck.” \n\n“I dunno,” Maestro replied. His tone was downtrodden. “Part of me hopes he’s dead. But another part of me hopes he’s not.” Another glance at his claw. “Can you wash the blood off of my paw?” \n\nRubrum nodded. “Of course,” he said, and raised his sponge in the air. “And while I despise violence…” He gulped. “I really, really hope that brute is gone.” \n\n\n\n\n\nCeres Square bustled with Pokémon of all shapes and hues; small and large, tall and stout, their footsteps rattled the rickety cobble beneath. Streamers, too, pillared far above their heads, tethered to wooden poles stories high. On either side of the road, makeshift market stalls clamored with activity. Brokers peddled to and fro, shouting their prices, declaring their stock. The din made Fey’s ears ache. \n\nHidden beneath two layers of brown cloth, Fey trotted down the main thoroughfare. His little paws stamped on the stone, their footfalls quiet. His tail wagged. Had the circumstances been less dire, he’d have greatly enjoyed himself here. \n\nFey, unfortunately, had arrived late to the opening ceremony. Stood in a line beside the worn bleachers, he silently trudged his way onboard. A Cacturne loomed behind, accidentally prickling Fey’s backside; a Skuntank stood in front, his ass hovering worryingly close to Fey’s upturned nose. Truly, Fey thought, this is hell. \n\nHowever, Fey was quickly relieved of this annoyance. With a sigh, he sat himself overlooking Ceres Square; his ribbons lolled idly from his cloak’s hood, turned starkly over his face. The show was about to begin. \n\nStandard fanfare heralded its beginning; on the left and right, crowds of Augustan Academy students fingered brass instruments. Pompous feathers flew from their caps, those collared uniforms just barely obscuring their naked bodies. Maestro would’ve contended that the entire affair was a mockery of Augustan civility; Fey, however, was enthralled by the flying colors. With big glassy eyes, he stared. \n\nFrom beyond the long blue curtains, Maximus then stepped. He appeared haggard, serious; and yet his chest was thrusted outward, his strut confident. Such was the nature of appearances, Fey supposed. Even amongst the most dire circumstances, those in power must maintain good posture. \n\nAkiva followed him onstage. Dressed in flowing silver robes, she appeared saintly; as if she were sent from another time, another dimension. A force of nature, unhinged from reality, unpaired from cause and effect. Akiva was always meant to save Augusta. To resist would be to resist progress. These thoughts permeated Fey’s mind, whispering in the background. He dispelled them with a shake of his head. \n\nWith a coy smile, Akiva then proceeded toward the podium. Maximus stood patiently behind her, staring blankly into the massive audience. Spoons bent in his hands. He was nervous; Akiva prayed the audience didn’t notice. \n\nAkiva then placed her hands upon the podium, listening intently to the uproar of thoughts from the crowd. Just barely, she could make out snippets from the myriad minds. In the front row, a wealthy investor observed Maximus’s demeanor with disdain; three rows back, a child experienced the worst day of his little life; twenty-five rows back, a frightened canine eagerly awaited the announcement, his cloak scratching at his sensitive ribbons. Akiva’s thoughts, in turn, intermingled with the crowd: leaking, permeating, coalescing. Her medication was wearing off. \n\nA plastic smile then stretched across Akiva’s face; hundreds of Pokémon were suddenly urged to quiet for reasons they couldn’t understand. The Gardevoir then leaned forward, pointed her lips toward the brass amplifier. A small chuckle brought the audience to attention.\n\n“Hello, everyone, and welcome to the twelfth Arcean Symposium!” Akiva bellowed. Applause then rang out, accompanied by whoops and cheers. The most dedicated Arceans screamed in support, rose their arms in the air. Stray roses flew on-stage. One landed upon Akiva’s slippered foot; she shook it off. \n\nHer smile grew wider. “Thank you, thank you,” she called. “But today is not merely a cause for celebration.” The crowd grew quiet once more. Akiva’s demeanor fell. “Before we begin our usual inaugural remarks, we must make an important announcement.” She then turned toward Maximus, motioned him forward. “Please welcome Chairman Maximus, presiding Director of our esteemed Board.” \n\nMore applause. More cheers. Fey noticed an anxious energy come over the crowd. Here it was… the big announcement. Cassius’s announcement. \n\nMaximus straightened his mustache as he awaited silence. And when it came, he cleared his throat, gave a wave to a front-seater. “Welcome, everyone,” he said. “I am so incredibly happy to see our attendance for this year’s Symposium. Record numbers have traveled to be here; truly, we are blessed to experience such a show of unity from Pokémon everywhere.” \n\nHis face then darkened. He placed a hand upon the pedestal, stared out over the crowd, and said: “But unfortunately, we must face a harsh truth which has recently afflicted our way of life. I’m sure most of you have already heard the rumors – and if you haven’t, consider yourself fortunate.” A deep breath. “Today, I will be telling you the truth. Nothing but. And it will take time for us to collectively comprehend it.” \n\nA pause. Furtive whispers broke out in the crowd. Fey looked left, then right; both of his neighbors theorized amongst themselves.\n\n“This past Friday, Chairman of Defense, Cassius of Caligen, and Chairman of Peacekeeping, Colm of Augusta, were traveling en route to a feral encampment – one named Haliford, about two days away. Their objective was simple: to negotiate the mineral trade from Haliford’s ample mining operations.” He frowned, suddenly saddened. “But somewhere along the way, things went wrong. These Pokémon, unbeknownst to us, were harboring a guerrilla troupe of human mercenaries. And, by the time negotiations had begun, their minds were resolute… that we would be attacked.” \n\nMore whispers. The crowd was unsteady now, swaying to and fro as each attendant attempted to verify the tale. Nobody could provide any answers. Fey’s jaw dropped. Maximus tapped the amplifier. \n\n“A coalition of local ferals and humans soon attacked Cassius’s military contingent. We were taken by surprise; no one could have expected such a savage opposition. Our enemies kicked up dust amidst the chaos; and, unfortunately, a friendly fire incident occurred. Unable to see clearly, General Cassius inadvertently harmed his own soldiers with a Stone Edge attack. Shortly thereafter, he fell to an enemy Stealth Rock.” He gulped, holding back a quiver in his voice. “General Cassius was immediately escorted back to Augusta, but medical treatment was too late. He passed away this morning, surrounded by friends and family.” \n\nThe audience was thus thrust into uncomfortable silence; Akiva could sense their collective heart rates rising, their body heat spiking. Maximus, however, was aware of this collective anxiety; he knew exactly how to soothe it. \n\n“This is a tragedy. Perhaps the greatest national tragedy we have suffered within the last three hundred years,” Maximus said. “We will all mourn General Cassius’s selfless devotion to his work, his unyielding strength, and his dedication to protecting all Pokémon from outside forces. But those forces… human and feral alike…” He sighed, shook his head. “Heroes like Cassius cannot last on the front lines. Their selflessness is simultaneously noble and tragic. Such was his nature – always protecting the helpless, curing the sick, and caring for the weak.” He then raised his hand high, swept it across the audience. “This Symposium – the largest Arcean Symposium of all – will not only serve to reinforce our faith, but to celebrate Cassius’s life. In the face of adversity, we will show unity.” \n\nUproarious applause ensued, accompanied by the terrified sobs of political fanatics. Children hugged their parents; the elderly shook, envisioning a crowd of humans invading the Augustan capital. Fey’s breathing quickened; it took all of his strength not to panic. \n\n“Now, I’d like to make something clear,” Maximus continued. His tone was now resolute, a fist solidly placed upon the podium. “This incident does not weaken our resolution to protect the rights and liberties of Pokémon; rather, it emboldens us. But I’ll allow someone else to talk about that.” Maximus shifted, beckoned off-stage. “I’d now like to pass the amplifier to Colm, who was present on that fateful day. Due to his exemplary courage and loyalty during that time of crisis, he will be taking over Cassius’s duties temporarily until we appoint a suitable candidate.” \n\nApplause. Applause. Applause. Colm stepped to the podium with a shit-eating grin. His eyes searched the crowd, darting here and there, unsynchronized from each other. Comforting words flew from his fat scaly lips: “Thank you, Chairman, for the opportunities you’ve presented today. Both to speak here, and to resume the work Chairman Cassius began. His shoes are certainly difficult to fill, and no one can fill them quite like him… but during times of crisis, we must all perform our best.”\n\nSuddenly, Fey began to shake. Somehow, some way, he felt that Colm knew he was there. Even smothered by his cowl, head downturned, he was struck by the paranoid impulse. Vomit curdled in his stomach. He needed to leave. He needed to leave now.\n\nColm began: “Good morning, everyone. I concur with Chairman Maximus’s sentiment – we will get past this. We will move on, we will learn, and we will grow. Stronger. Stronger than ever before.” A pause. “But first, we must acknowledge another hard truth. This guerrilla force within Haliford… they had accomplices, hailing from within Augusta itself.”\n\nFey’s heart raced. He nudged past the Cacturne’s spined legs, suffering the spines plunging into his side. The cactus moved his leg clumsily, attempting to grant Fey passage; but Fey didn’t wait. He was plunging past all of them – ten, fifteen Pokémon – and barreled toward the bleacher’s stairway. The exit – he needed the exit. \n\nColm then motioned toward the backmost row; upon its top, a projector whirred to life. Behind Colm, a grand white screen extended; and faintly, amidst the rising sunrays, images began to coalesce upon it. Photographs.\n\n“The main suspect of this incident is believed to still be at-large,” Colm explained. “This man is Maestro the Meowscarada – formerly the Augustan Academy’s top-ranked student. He was witnessed by numerous soldiers as coordinating the attack on our forces.” And there, on that rickety screen, arose an old photograph – Maestro’s smiling face, his eyes squinted, hidden behind his glamorous mask. He cradled a drink in his hand – the picture was taken during a happier time. \n\n“Maestro is injured. Heavily so,” Colm explained. “But make no mistake. He is armed, and he is dangerous. Any possible sightings or information are to be submitted to the Department of Defense. We are taking all leads very seriously.”\n\n\tFey then squeezed past the final Pokémon in the row, stumbled into the stairway. Popping from between a Mudbrae’s thighs, he landed face-first onto the wood. A splinter infiltrated his snout; as he glanced upward from the floor, he was met with the sight of Maestro’s carefree grin. The photo was then tugged off of the projector, replaced instead with three others.\n\n“No,” Fey muttered. He ran down the steps, gunning for the exit. “Fuck, fuck. No!” \n\nWith a frown, Colm said: “These three Pokémon are believed associates of Maestro. From left to right, these are: his academic advisor, the esteemed Professor Rubrum; and students Fey and Asher of Augusta. They, too, remain in hiding. The same informational guidelines apply. Our ears remain open.”\n\nThe audience was clamoring now with surprised yelps. Throughout the crowd, each Pokémon swiveled their stare, searching for a matching face amidst the throng. Fey’s lungs burned; he shot a final glance over his shoulder, only to be met with his own smiling face. Photos – each taken from their Academy ID cards. Spotted, speckled with age. Fey looked so young. \n\nHe left the auditorium. \n\n\n\nFey delved down a dark alleyway, relishing in its frigidity. Right, then left, then right. Next to a puddle of blackish liquid, he sat, took off his hood. His warm, hot fur met the shadowy air. It was refreshing. \n\nDesperately, Fey then attempted to calm himself. One breath in, one breath out. The din was far-away now, stunted. Clamor flew over the buildings like a shockwave, passing over the alleyways like frontline trenches. Fey wrapped himself in his ribbons. His lungs pounded against his ribcage. \n\n“Shit,” he breathed. “Fuck, shit. Shit.”\n\n \tFey chided himself for not expecting this. Of course the Board would frame him. Of course they’d share his face. He never should’ve set foot inside that auditorium – he risked his life by even being near it. Too risky… much too risky. \n\nMoreover, the thought of Maestro killing Cassius made him sick. After all, Fey had always believed that change could be brought about peacefully; that if everyone just talked reasonably, they could set aside their differences. But now… now, things were different. Fey had wandered headfirst into a war. If it came down to it, would he have to take another Pokémon’s life? Could he? \n\nThen, a cough rang out. It bounced off of the alley walls, met Fey’s ears like a punch. He snapped his head to meet its source, only to be met with their shadow upon the brick wall. Like a homunculus, they shambled along the same path Fey had taken. Following him. A metallic clang sounded with every step. \n\nFey’s breathing sped. His paws twitched as he considered his options. If he ran, he’d be in plain sight among the market stalls. But if he stayed, he might suffer the ire of his assailant. Fey froze; he steeled himself, watching intently as the shadow neared. \n\nBut as the figure turned the corner, Fey rested his haunches. It was an elderly Pokémon – a Sceptile, his leaves sun-bleached. A large pack rested upon his back, as if packed for a camping trip. A metal pan dangled from its bottom, swinging to and fro. It knocked against his haunches. \n\nThe Sceptile then spied Sylveon, gave a smile. He waved, walked closer. The elder’s bare calloused feet plunged within festering puddles, but he showed no reaction. Fey didn’t move, his eyes locked on the Sceptile’s swaying, wrinkled neck. \n\nNearer, nearer the man drew, until he stood in front of Fey. He then turned – slowly, methodically – and stared downward at the boy below. Fey’s breath caught in his throat. He squeaked out a quick greeting. The Sceptile didn’t move.\n\nFey asked, “Can I help you?” \n\nAnd in a crackling voice, the Sceptile replied: “You look terrible.” \n\nFey raised an eyebrow. “Yeah,” he said. “I feel terrible.” \n\nThe Sceptile then straightened himself; and with a vigilant eye, he looked around. He saw no one in either direction. Words fell from his lips: “I know who you are.” \n\nFey’s mouth went dry. He asked: “Do you?” \n\n“They just showed your picture,” the Sceptile said. Empathy softened his tone. “You’re not safe here.” \n\nThe Sylveon whipped his ribbons in frustration. “Yeah,” he said. “I know. But I have something I need to do.” \n\n“Must be an important something.” \n\nFey nodded. “It is,” he replied. “But, um… I don’t know if I can do it.”\n\nMore silence. Without warning, the Sceptile then shed his backpack; he muddled about within it, tossing around a myriad of cooking materials. Pots, pans, sacks of rice. And buried there, at the bottom of the pack, was his object – a festival mask. White, stern, with X-shaped spines protruding from its corners; it was meant to resemble Arceus’s girdle. Gold accents dotted its curves. \n\n“Here,” the Sceptile said, and held it out. The sunlight formed a halo above his head. “I bought this last year. But… you might have more use for it.” \n\nFey gulped. And with shaky ribbons, he accepted the gift, fitted it to his face. The strap was taught around his neck. In confusion, his nose upturned, Fey stared at the radiant figure. And he asked: “Why are you helping me?” \n\nThe Sceptile simply smiled, donned his pack. He replied: “Pokémon ought to help each other out, hm?” And in a more somber tone, he added: “You have a hell of a ride ahead of you.” \n\n“Y–yeah,” Fey replied. “I guess I do.” \n\nThe Sceptile then walked on, disappearing into the bustling street. \n\n\n\nClad in his newfound disguise, Fey slipped unseen throughout the crowd. He dipped and bobbed amongst that sea of robe-clad figures, masked jokers, and sign-toting fanatics. Red lettering rose high above their heads, attached via flimsy sticks. Protect our culture. The Feral Infection. Humans are KILLING us. Remember Haliford. \n\nFey frowned. Those shrieking, histrionic voices disappeared behind him with every step, but recurred ahead. Camped out along the roads, Arcean picketers espoused the horrors of the uncivilized. Ferals eat Pokémon eggs. Ferals and humans have orgies in the woods. Haliford was staged. They’re trafficking children through the mines. Open your mind. Do your research. There’s something evil out there. \n\nFor a moment, Fey thought of Sid and Grimm – anonymous, holed up within the dingy hostel. Cordoned off from the madness outside. He was grateful they weren’t here to see this. \n\nA hand then landed on Fey’s shoulder. He jumped in surprise, then turned to face the assailant – a wild-eyed Conkeldurr, his stones painted with the visage of Almighty Arceus. \n\n“You!” the Conkeldurr bellowed. “Tell me, do you support Bill AC-92251?” \n\nFey sputtered, “Wh–what?” \n\n“Do you support Bill AC-92251?” the man yelled. His voice soared over the din. “In the name of Arceus, do you understand?” \n\nFey squinted his eyes. He could hardly see through the slits in his mask. “Um… I don’t know what that bill is,” he admitted. \n\nAs if eyeing prey, the Conkeldurr let loose a cocky grin. Immediately, he then jumped into his pre-rehearsed spiel: “We, as Arceans, deserve sovereignty in Augusta. We deserve a say in how things are run. Don’t you agree?” \n\n“I–I suppose,” Fey said. His tone was lukewarm, his paws nervously stamping on the stone. “But I don’t know how, um… because th – we’re the minority.”\n\nThe Conkeldurr gave Fey a pat on the back, as if reassuring a child. “Minority?” he barked. “No, no, little one. We are the silent majority.” He swept his hand over the crowd and explained: “Look at all these people. They’re Arceans at heart. They celebrate our God, they eat our food, they enjoy our culture. Arceus gives them meaning, even if they don’t know it.” He then turned back to Fey and added: “It is our job to remind them of that.” \n\nFey blinked, surprised at the man’s unearned fervor. The Conkeldurr did not seem to notice Fey’s lack of enthusiasm, nor his attempts to disengage; rather, the man talked for himself to hear. Brutal self-vindication, over and over. \n\n“Right,” Fey muttered. “Well, I’ll see you–”\n\n“This bill – AC-92251 – it bans all negative mention of Arceus within city walls.” He smiled earnestly. “We’ll finally have some fucking power around here, huh?” And, like a weapon, he brandished a clipboard from atop his stone. “You’ll sign this.” \n\nEager to escape this interaction, Fey relented. “Sure,” he breathed, and took the pencil in his hand – its surface was slimy with sweat. He then scribbled a nonsense signature upon the page, turned tail. “Thank you for… um… protecting us?” he said over his shoulder. \n\n“Of course,” the Conkeldurr replied. “May Arceus be with you!” And, not skipping a beat, he turned to the crowd once more, laid a hand upon a passing Glameow’s shoulder. “Hey, you!” he bellowed. “Do you support Bill AC-92251?”\n\nFey took the opportunity to run. He bounded through the crowd, his neck snapping in all directions as he attempted to discern his environment from crotch-level. Buildings on both sides, overflowing market stalls, towering bipedal Pokémon. Shouting, shouting everywhere; it overwhelmed Fey. Panic burgeoned in his chest, adrenaline pumped through his tiny heart. Time was moving too slow. \n\n“Quiet,” Fey chanted. “Quiet, I need quiet…” \n\nFey sped up now. Darting between legs, just barely dodging footfalls, he barreled toward a small amphitheater on the edge of the festival’s perimeter. Much tinier than Ceres Square, it sported steel bleachers, upheld with intricate criss-crossing bars. About fifteen Pokémon sat upon it, their heads just barely rising above its horizon. Its entrance laid to the side – a simple gate, a dirt path. Fey ran toward it. And just as he passed the gate, another voice called out to him – close, to his right. \n\n“Hold it!” \n\nFrightened by the interruption, Fey stopped in his tracks; and from beneath the bleachers, two lights glinted – the crystalline gaze of a Sableye. The creature’s claws closed over the bars, wrenching his body forward into the light. He flashed a big toothy grin. \n\n“Oh,” the Sableye said. “I didn’t know we expected another one this year. My apologies.” \n\nWith his voice stuck in his throat, Fey choked: “U–uh huh.” Thoughts raced in his head; he needed to get out of the street. So he spat: “Well, uh, thank you?”\n\n“No, no,” the Sableye whispered. “Thank you.” And he disappeared once more beneath the bleachers. Not even a silhouette remained; and, in his panicked state, Fey chose to ignore the interruption. \n\nThe Sylveon then rounded the corner, only to be met with a dizzying sight: a small private stage, upon which Chairwoman Akiva herself stood. In all her grace, clad in pure silver robes, dripping with jewelry – there she was, the saint herself. \n\nAnd, with naught but a swivel of her head, she commanded the small audience’s attention. In unison, the crowd turned to stare at the disheveled Fey. Each wore a mask identical to his own; however, Fey’s mask lay crooked on his face. The run to get here had not been pleasant. Balancing his breath the best he could, the boy managed a tepid: “Hello.” \n\nAkiva replied in turn. “Hello,” she said, and motioned toward the seats. “You’re late, sir. The panel is almost finished.” \n\n“Th–that’s okay,” Fey said. “Really.” And, awkwardly, he walked himself up the stainless steps, then sat himself on the row’s edge. Akiva began her service once more. The masked ones stared straight ahead. \n\nAkiva declared: “Now… this service has been a bittersweet one, hm? And I am immensely grateful for your questions.” A smile. “The truth is, my dearests, that you all are the light. The cleansing force, unleashed upon Illumina so that it may be cleansed, made worthy of Arceus’s return.” She donned a swarthy, relatable demeanor, hands on her hips. “Think about it, hm? When you invite a guest to your home, what do you do? You clean up first. Can’t make a bad first impression!” Laughter from the audience, and then: “We’re doing the same thing here.” \n\nAkiva then paused. A sullen look passed over her face. “The truth is, General Cassius dedicated his life to our cause. The purification of our faith, the continuation of our tradition… Pokémon, ruling over all. Until his last breaths, he believed in that.” She pointed a finger toward the audience, traced along every single face. “Each of us must seek to emulate his devotion. Not for glory; not for material wealth; for spiritual wealth. It is the only resource which may follow us beyond this mortal plane… the only qualification for the kingdom of Arceus.” \n\nJust then, Akiva caught sight of a signal off-stage. Two flashing eyes, peeking from beneath the bleachers. It was time to wrap things up.\n\n“Okay,” Akiva announced, and clapped her hands together. She maintained her faux-enthusiastic shtick. “That concludes our service today. Thank you all for attending, truly… each of you are blessed by our Lord himself. Our next service will begin in forty minutes. Goodbye for now.” And, with a bow, she summoned uproarious applause from the tiny audience. Surprised at their fervor, Fey joined in – he didn’t want to stick out. \n\nAkiva then disappeared behind the little white stage. The audience then stood, stretched their legs, and began to shuffle outward. Fey did not follow suit; instead, he waited until the auditorium was nearly empty, shuffling out after the last attendee. At the last moment, however, he broke course. Casually, Fey walked behind the stage. He could smell Akiva’s perfume on the air; she’d passed through here on her way out. \n\nAnd alas, hidden behind the stage, there was a large white tent. Like a circus, its pointed tip stretched toward the heavens; its outside, however, was plainly adorned. It was clearly meant for functional use rather than appearances.\n\nStill catching his breath, Fey paused outside of the mammoth structure. The sight was a lot to take in – isolated from the bustling street, cordoned behind the stage, it all seemed oddly calm. The quiet steeled his nerves; and, with a huff, he decided to enter the tent. Its flaps swallowed him up. \n\nThe tent’s insides were barren, save for a simple couch in its center; in front of it, a low-hanging coffee table. Akiva sat upon the couch casually, her back just barely resting on its cushion; a teacup sat in her hand, balancing delicately upon a small dish. And, with a smack of her lips, Akiva replaced the teacup onto her table. She greeted Fey with a tepid smile. \n\n“You’ve decided to join me,” Akiva said. “I’m glad. I was worried I’d have to enjoy tea time alone.” \n\n\tThe sight of Akiva made Fey shiver. He asked: “Did you know I was going to be here?” \n\n\tAkiva ignored the question. Instead, she motioned to the tent’s corner – a gilded gramophone sat there, a disc spinning on its plate. Harmonic piano belted from its brass horn. Fey thought it was beautiful. And Akiva said: “That player there… and the disc, too. Do you know where it came from?” \n\n\t“No,” Fey replied. “I don’t.” \n\n\t“Grand City,” Akiva explained. “It was expensive. Horribly so. Import taxes and such. But…” She smiled, reverence tinging her tone. “Even the most base savages may bless us with their tidings, hm? Out of muck comes beautiful art. Everyone has their place.”\n\nHardening himself, Fey said: “I need to ask you about the Spear. A–and I don’t want to fight you.” \n\nAkiva rolled her eyes. She asked, “Must everyone suffer your impatience?” And with a curled hand, she patted the seat next to her. Piano chords belted overhead. “Come,” she said. “We ought to spend some time together first.” \n\nFey blinked, then narrowed his eyes. Truthfully, he had never expected such a warm welcome; he was hesitant even to sit aside Akiva. After all, the situation was just too perfect. Doubtless, guards awaited outside, ready to swoop in. Or perhaps the tea was poisoned. Or Akiva was readying a psychic attack. Or–\n\n“I’m not going to poison you,” Akiva said. “So you can stop your ruminating. It’s distasteful.” \n\nFey frowned. “You can read my mind.” \n\n“Not just yours,” Akiva explained. She then patted the seat once more. “Now… sit.” \n\nAnd, despite his better judgment, Fey followed orders. Gingerly, he lifted himself onto the couch, leaned against its arm. He was only a foot away from Akiva now, inspecting her glittering, pristine get-up. The slightest glance terrified him. Akiva sipped her tea. \n\n“I take it you’re not an actual Arcean,” Akiva said. \n\nAnd Fey replied: “No, I’m not.” \n\n“Where’d you get the mask, then?” Akiva asked. “They’re exclusive, you know. And quite expensive.” \n\nThe answer danced on Fey’s tongue, but he clamped his lips shut. Instead, he removed the mask and replied: “I don’t want to talk about that.” \n\n“Of course,” Akiva said. She then placed her tea cup on the table, echoing. “Of course, of course.” And with a furtive sigh, she turned to face Fey, hands resting calmly upon her lap. And Akiva asked: “Do you know what it’s like to be born with a gift, Fey?” \n\nFey frowned. “No,” he said. “I don’t.” \n\n“I do,” Akiva said. She then pointed to her head, as if brandishing a firearm to it, and explained: “From the moment I was born, I’ve been blessed by Arceus with the gift of hearing. Hearing thoughts.” She smiled. “From everywhere, all at once. From streets away, across town, the same room. Random thoughts. I can’t control it. Not even a bit.”\n\nEarnestly, Fey asked: “That’s a gift?” \n\n“Yes,” Akiva snapped. “It is.” And, regaining her composure, she continued: “For the first ten years of my life, I was a husk. I was… I was paralyzed by the voices. I didn’t know what was happening.” She frowned. Her tone turned somber. “I secluded myself. I didn’t talk to anyone, not even my foster parents. Anyone I told, they… they said I was crazy.” \n\nAn unnatural smile then flashed across her face. “But I’m not crazy. I never was. I was simply… unrecognized. Unborn, like an uncarved block of clay. Do you understand?” \n\nBiting his lip, Fey replied: “Yes, I do.” And with a huff, he asked: “So who, um… so how did you…”\n\nAkiva’s eyes then alit. “Our lord Arceus, of course.” She then clutched her hands to her chest, closed her eyes. Music soared. “That first decade… all the suffering I experienced… it was a crucible. A test. By Arceus Himself. He made me. He made me for a purpose… to help all Pokémon.” She then shot a glance downward at Fey; obsession boiled behind those silvery eyes. And she said: “I’m trying to help you. So why… why would you interrupt my work?” \n\n“Because you’re hurting Pokémon,” Fey said. His voice cracked, tinged with terror. “Y–you invaded Haliford. You hurt my friend.” \n\n Akiva didn’t flinch. She stated: “Maestro? Frankly, he shouldn’t have interrupted an active military operation.” She scoffed. “Although, I will say… I admire his fighting prowess. Colm had quite the story afterward.” \n\n“You almost killed him.” \n\n“He almost killed himself.” Akiva laid a finger upon her temple, gave it a light massage. “We’re building a better future for all Pokémon. And yet… some Pokémon still want to fight against that.” She paused. Remorse made her eyes water. “Why do they sacrifice themselves at my feet, hm? For nothing. Every Pokémon who has ever – ever – stood in our way has died. For nothing.” She spoke faster, louder. “You ask why I do what I do. But I ask you, Fey… why do you continue to fight back? Why do you trip over yourself to hurt me? All I’ve ever wanted is peace.” \n\n“Peace?” Fey echoed. Anger rose within him, made his little paws shake. “Y–you’re not making peace. And you’re not fighting for all Pokémon. Not for ferals. Not for Dark types.” His temper flared. “You’re just killing everyone who disagrees with you.” \n\nFor a moment, silence filled the room. Fey was surprised at his own foolishness – those inflammatory words had flown from his mouth before he could shut it. And now he sat face-to-face with Akiva, watching her every move. A little twitch of her lip, her eyes staring off; Fey’s heart raced. Dissonant chords screeched from the gramophone. \n\nAnd, with grace fit for a queen, Akiva stood. She walked calmly to the gramophone, then removed its needle from the disc. The music cut out with a sizable buzz. \n\nAkiva asked: “Do you know how a saint is made?” \n\n“No,” Fey replied. \n\nAkiva nodded. And she said: “With a loving hand.” The memory made her face twitch. “Maximus discovered me on the eve of my tenth hatchday. He told me that my abilities were a gift.” A warm smile graced her lips. “He taught me… everything. He made me realize I’m not a burden. That I could help other Pokémon. I could build a better future. Cassius and I… he saved us both.” Akiva then turned to the Sylveon, still sat beside a cup of lukewarm tea, and she asked: “Fey… if I offered you my hand, would you take it?” \n\n\tDeep sadness burgeoned within Fey. He replied: “No. I wouldn’t.” \n\n\t“Even if it meant you could save everyone you love?” Akiva asked.\n\n\tEnflamed, Fey asked: “Is that what the Spear is for? Saving Pokémon? Helping Pokémon?” His ribbons whipped. “How does eradicating humanity help us?” \n\n\tAkiva barked: “Arceus will return to Illumina. He will spare us–” \n\n\t“You can’t just blame Arceus for all the bad things you do!” Fey yelled. “The problem isn’t humanity, or dissidents, or Dark types, or ferals. It’s you,” he said. “You need to take responsibility for that.” \n\n A pregnant pause then permeated the air. Akiva hung her head low; genuine hurt flashed on her face. And she said: “I take it you aren’t going to listen to me.” \n\nMustering as much bravery as he could, Fey replied: “I guess not.” \n\nAkiva replied with a simple nod. She muttered: “That’s a shame.” \n\nThe Gardevoir’s eyes then flickered in Fey’s direction; magenta light shone from within. Fey recognized it – that bloodthirsty gaze, the slight intake of air. Energy coalesced within Akvia’s mind, swelling, swirling. Fey jumped off the couch just in time; where he once sat, a flood of fuschia-flavored energy then shot from the spike on Akiva’s chest, tearing the seat in half. Fluff flew from its center, shot up into the air like snow. Fey’s paws landed on the grass with a thump. \n\n“Stop!” Fey yelled. “I don’t want to fight you!”\n\nBut Akiva didn’t listen. She flickered her gaze to meet him, obviously charging another attack; but much to her chagrin, Fey was quicker. He barreled toward Akiva like a bullet, head-first, and bashed his skull against her stomach. Akiva flew backward with a surprised gasp, her dress flowing, and crashed into the gramophone. Its rim tore the tent’s wall, sliced her cheek; blood trickled onto her pristine robes. \n\n“You…” Akiva growled. “You shouldn’t have done that.” And, stooped over the wreckage, she raised her palm into the air. Mystical Fire instantly bloomed from her flesh; the plume just barely grazed Fey’s nose. He stumbled backward, fell on his ass, as he hurriedly scooched away from the flame. Fey’s cloak smoldered.\n\n“Damn it,” Fey cried, and puffed smoke from his nose. His environs were surrounded by a haze now, stoked by a mixture of burning canvass and couch stuffing. He could just barely see Akiva’s silhouette amidst the smoke; she stood next to the broken gramophone, straightened herself. Fey waited there for a plume of energy, a movement, anything; but it didn’t come. \n\nFey spat: “Akiva, stop!” His voice crackled, his paws shook, but he didn’t relent. “I–I don’t wanna fight you, but… I need to protect myself. I need to protect my friends!” \n\nStill, no response. The Gardevoir’s silhouette simply stared, her fists clenched. And slowly, she backed further into the cloud, past the tent’s gash; she was escaping. \n\n“No!” Fey cried. “You’re not leaving!”\n\nAnd, with a skip in his step, Fey bounded forward. However, he only managed to land a couple steps before he felt a hand on his shoulder. The sensation caught him completely off-guard, and he snapped his neck backward to meet the assailant.\n\n“What the–” \n\nBut Fey couldn’t utter another word. Hung over his shoulder, he was met with an unexpected sight – Akiva’s face, hovering only an inch away from his. Magenta spirals filled her eyes; a close-range Hypnosis attack, unavoidable. The Gardevoir had Teleported behind him. \n\nPain flashed in Fey’s eyes. His throat muscles suddenly grew lax, his lungs weak amidst the smoke. He could already feel his legs swaying.\n\n“No,” Fey slurred. His jaw hung open, his tongue gnashing against his palate. “No, no. No, please.”\n\n\tAkiva simply placed a finger upon his maw, shushed the boy. She then watched as Fey fell onto his flank; and once he stopped twitching, she scooped him into her arms. Like a helpless puppy, he was held snugly against Akiva’s breast. The Gardevoir smiled warmly. \n\n“It’s okay,” Akiva whispered. The tent around her burned. Fey’s eyelids lowered. “It’s all over now, Fey. Let it go.” \n\nFey’s vision was fading now; uncontrollably, he could feel himself curling into fetal position, snuggled against Akiva’s warm stomach. He tucked his tail between his legs, pulled his paws close to his core; and, tucking his ears against his head, his consciousness lapsed. \n\nAnd, as she’d done many times before, Akiva then readied her Dream Eater attack. She frowned, then closed her eyes; her hands glowed. Like a surgeon readying their tools, the Gardevoir steeled herself to enter Fey’s brain. Pressure made her head pound.\n\n“That’s it,” Akiva cooed. She then laid a finger upon Fey’s forehead, traced it down onto his nose. “Let me in.”\n\n\tLike a ravenous beast, Akiva then cannibalized Fey’s dreams. Starting at the edges, Akiva nibbled at their periphery; emotions, thoughts, relationships. They danced on Akiva’s tongue – a delicacy, surely. Only to be experienced once. Fey stirred and yelped in his sleep. Blood dripped from Akiva’s nose, landing squarely onto his flank.\n\n\t“Just like that,” Akiva whispered. “That’s it. That’s it… just let it go.”\n\n\tAnd, as if punctured by a needle, memories spilled loosely from Fey’s mind. Akiva listened intently, honoring each as it passed her gnashing teeth. Such was the honor she bestowed upon him; it was her duty to savor the meal. \n\nBone feels porous against my tongue, Fey spilled. His brain unspooled like thread. Archaeology class is so hard. I’m flying to the sun. Asher held my hand for the first time the other day. Professor Rubrum made me bitter tea. I need to take a shower. Leeks from the store. Simmer for thirty minutes.\n\n\t“Good,” Akiva breathed. “Good. Give yourself to me.” \n\n\tIt’s too hot today. The candle burns my ribbons. I’m studying – keep the lantern on. Crying in Rubrum’s dorm. The first day of Autumn. Salvation. Leaves are dancing. The passage in the library… Invi’s eyes. Deep, blue. He’s inside me. \n\n\tFor just a moment, Akiva’s focus broke. Her brow furrowed, her grip tightened on Fey’s haunches, as she processed what she’d just heard. “Invi?” she muttered. “How did you… what did he…?”\n\n\tAnd, just as suddenly as Akiva’s focus had broken, a sharp pain burrowed behind her eye. Like a rail spike, it hammered into her skull; acid rose in her throat, just barely curbed from her mouth. Her own Psychic power overloaded her; blood shot from her nose, her eyes squeezed shut. Fire crawled up the tent’s walls. \n\n\t“Damn it!” Akiva shrieked. And with a mighty moan, she stood on those knobby, unsteady knees; her head in her hands, she groaned in agony. Psychic energy pervaded her, turned inward; it made her heart speed, her entire body convulse. With trembling fingers, she reached inside the pouch affixed to her hip. “Not now!” she shouted. The words rang in her skull. “Not now. Not now. Not now. Not now.” \n\nVoices flooded her, sickened her, became her. A Simisear died of old age three streets away; she felt his last breaths. A Conkeldurr, sticky with wheat paste, affixed a poster to a brick wall; she felt his anger. Like an engine overheated, she couldn’t contain it. Her brain ate itself. \n\nIn a fervor, Akiva grasped a white pill from within her pouch. Her bodily control had degraded such that she could hardly grasp it. She then popped it in her mouth; but alas, she couldn’t swallow it. Spittle drooled from her lips, heralding a torrent of vomit; and up it came, spilling out over the grass. \n\nAbove her, wooden bearings smoldered. Its surrounding canvass had long since caught fire, burning their supports, weakening the structure. Crackles sounded from above. Akiva fell to her knees. With her palms against the earth, she attempted to crawl away. The smoke made her cough. \n\nFey awoke amidst the noise; his ears unfurled, his paws stretched, as his consciousness slowly emerged. As his eyes adjusted to the light, before him laid a horrid sight: Akiva, on all-fours, her eyes squeezed shut. The Gardevoir cradled her head in her hands, her forehead pressed against the ground. White pills surrounded her, spilled haphazardly from her open pouch. \n\nA quick glance upward betrayed the tent’s collapsing frame. It cracked and shifted under its own weight; and shaking under its central pillar was Akiva. Helpless, she gritted her teeth. \n\n“Akiva,” Fey whispered. On shaky legs, he somehow managed to stand. Swaying to and fro, Fey called out: “Akiva, w–we need to go.” \n\nBut Akiva couldn’t hear. The fire’s roar blended seamlessly with the chorus of voices in her head. In that moment, Akiva was no one. A vessel for others. A radio antenna, burning, heaving. \n\n“Akiva,” Fey slurred. He put one paw in front of the other; as if learning to walk again, he stumbled forward. More crackles. Those tiny iron fastenings gave way overhead, falling under their own weight. Fey panicked. \n\n“Akiva!” Fey yelled. “Move!”\n\nFey then lurched toward Akiva’s crumpled body; despite the pain, despite the smoke, despite his brain’s unraveling, he ran. And, without thinking, Fey used Take Down on the shivering Gardevoir.\n\n And like a cannonball, the pair’s bodies shot into the air. Both flung past the tent’s frame and landed on the grass outside, covered in a smattering of blood, ash, and vomit. Their skulls rattled. Akiva’s head crashed against the ground; prone, splayed on her back, she watched as Fey regained his footing. \n\nFey then turned toward her, his ears perked; Pokémon were running toward their location, shouting for support. They’d seen the inferno from a distance. In less than a minute, Fey would be surrounded. He needed to go. Now.\n\nBut Fey didn’t move. He stared at Akiva – that helpless, injured figure. In the span of only a few seconds, the prospect of her death loomed in his mind. He could stomp her head right now; a single well-placed Moonblast would also do the trick. He could end it. He could end it all right here. \n\nAkiva stared at him; blankly, he stared back. Sirens sounded overhead. The tent collapsed in its entirety; a cloud of smoke and ash plumed upward. But still, Fey didn’t move. \n\n“Kill me,” Akiva muttered. “Just like Cassius. Do it. I know you want to.” \n\nFey shook his head. Frustrated tears beaded along his eyes. “What would that do?” he slurred. “Why should I have to kill Pokémon just to get my way? Why can’t you just fucking listen to me?!” \n\n“Because you’re stupid and naive,” Akiva contended. \n\n\t“And you’re a monster!” Fey spat. “You kill Pokémon for nothing!” \n\n\t“I kill terrorists,” Akiva said. “All of the freedoms you cherish… you owe those to us.”\n\n\t“Oh, please. You only care about freedom so long as you’re at the top,” Fey shot back. “And it’s pathetic! Maximus is using you, and you’re too blind to realize it.”\n\n\tAkiva chuckled. She said: “If you were in my position, you’d do the same thing.”\n\n“I would never be like you,” Fey growled. \n\nIn the distance, footsteps grew closer. Fey attempted to think of something else to say, but failed. His entire body ached. Begrudgingly, he turned tail. \n\nOver his shoulder, he warned: “I’m not going to stoop to your level. But next time we see each other, I… I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold back.” \n\nAnd with glassy eyes, Fey ran. Disoriented, he stumbled into a nearby alley; Akiva witnessed his tail disappear around a corner. Medics approached from the opposite direction, astonished at the wreckage. They ran toward the Gardevoir’s limp body in a panic.\n\nAkiva prayed for forgiveness.\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Leap of Faith

\tGolden light shone upon Akiva’s still mien; under her head, a pillow of Braviary feathers. Upon her breasts, a quilt knitted from Wooloo wool. The three stages of Arceanism were emblazoned upon its surface: the Creation, the Theft, and the long-awaited Reclamation. Such was Augusta’s destiny.

\tWords rung softly from her lips: “Almighty master, creature of white snow, alight the flame within your humble servant.”

\tAkiva’s eyes hung heavy. Like leaden weights, her arms remained pinned to her sides, her breathing slow and deep. Spirits wrestled within her guts. She stared blankly at the white pock-marked ceiling. Pain radiated from her temples.

\t“We prostrate ourselves before your grace. All elements in their place, all Pokémon stationed such. We feel your gaze.”

\tVoices buzzed within her head. Snippets, thoughts, from Augusta and beyond. Thousands of Pokémons’ worth of worries flooded her consciousness; amidst the clamor, Akiva could only make out a few snippets. A feminine voice belaboring her lazy husband. A child bored in school. Two merchants hashing out a petty dispute. A woman mourned her first breakup.

\t“Your pain is ours. Your loss is ours. Your victory is ours. Everything we are, everything we shall become, is preordained by your grace. O, Arceus…”

\tThoughts consumed Akiva. She could feel them rushing through her like a flood, overtaking her, becoming her. Three streets over, an orgasm. In the courthouse, hatred boiled over between a prosecutor and a witness. A Raichu grumbled on a far-off island. The dingy was cold beneath his feet.

\t“Watch over us, master. Ordain our path. For the future of all Pokémon. Amen.”

\tHundreds of lives infested Akiva’s mind now. Parasites. Flashes of sight, sound, and touch ebbed like waves. More than once, she felt the taste of death grace her palate; so, too, the horror of being born. Brief nostalgic meals danced upon her tongue. She yearned for memories she’d never had. Thoughts became indistinguishable amidst the crowd. Her eyes darted to and fro, catching illusory images in the periphery.

\t“...there just isn’t enough…” “And she said there wasn’t a spark!” “I wish I could leave.” “My life is over.” “The coffee here is…” “It needs a square axle.” “That feels nice.” “I’m getting some for her on the way home.” “Humans… humans are a scourge.”

\tThe Gardevoir’s eyes then flew open; greedily, she gulped cold, crisp air into her lungs. It flooded her, filled her, from head to toe. As if electrified, she then sat upward, swiveled her head from left to right. Her lips muttered another mantra now: “Blue curtains. White ceiling. Pink sheets. Sky blue walls.”

\tOne by one, the girl focused on items within eyesight. And, as she had done hundreds of times before, she lazily reached into the nightstand, revealing a satchel of little white pills. They jingled in her palm. And, shakily shifting them with her fingertips, she popped two into her mouth. She swallowed them with a hum, closed her eyes. “White pills. Brown bag. Yellow sun. Green leaves.”

\tEven now, Akiva could feel her mind settling. Her headache settled into a dull throb. She stood from the unstained sheets, then calmly folded them on top of one another. She fluffed her pillows, tugged at the blankets’ corners, and affixed them properly beneath the mattress. With a flourish, she then smoothed over the surface, banishing the wrinkles.

\tTurning at a precise ninety-degree angle, the Gardevoir then floated toward her bedroom door, stopping short of its handle. And she tapped her fingers against its brass surface once, twice, thrice, four times – then opened it, turning the knob counter-clockwise.

\tAkiva grinned. Not one error in her routine. Truly, today was going to be a good day.



\tEvery day, rain or shine, Akiva traveled through the same streets. Her feet gently pitter-pattered above those unfortunate Pokémon curled in the gutter, random trash, and discarded posters. Printed upon thin glue-stained paper, her eyes stared eternally upward – that familiar slogan, ‘Because all of us deserve a better future.’

\tAs Akiva floated up the myriad steps, she adjusted her silver hair, flowing in the wind. Even from the first floor, she could hear the bickering of her colleagues – something was obviously wrong. In a huff, she climbed the stairs. There was always something wrong.

Two Floatzels guarded the entrance to the conference room. Strolling along the red carpet, Akiva neared the ornate oaken entrance; an uproar clamored from within. And with a nod, the guards lowered their spears. Cowing their heads in submission, they didn’t dare meet her gaze. The Gardevoir didn’t speak a word.

The doors then swung open, and Akiva was met with a frustrating sight: stacks and stacks of paper, splayed wildly over the vast conference desk. Head in his hand, Maximus took his usual spot at the table’s head; the remaining Board members bickered amongst each other, smoked cigarettes, and gritted their teeth. Kane. the Gimmighoul, gawked at Akiva’s entrance.

“Look who finally decided to join us,” he barked. Like a bayonet, he foisted his cigarette toward Akiva’s lithe frame. “We’ve been waiting, Akiva. Arceus, we’re in a state of emergency.”

Akiva nodded, calmly took her seat. To her left, Hermes the Simipour, downtrodden as usual; to her right, Cassius’s empty seat. She replied: “I’ve arrived today at the time I always arrive.”

“Well, you’re late.” Kane coughed, smoke flying from his tiny lips. A coin shook in his hand. “Did no one wake you? We sent someone to wake you.” And without waiting for Akiva’s reply, he blurted: “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. He’s fired. Done.”

Raising a paw to her lips, Chairwoman Iris said: “Akiva, we’ve been quite busy this morning. We’re glad you’ve arrived.”

Humming, Akiva replied: “Of course.” She then glanced toward Cassius’s empty chair; an indent of his buttocks remained on the gargantuan seat. She asked: “Is Cassius alright?”

“Is Cassius alright?” Kane cried. He swept his arm wide and blathered, “Forget about that dolt! How about our army–”

“Kane,” Maximus growled. With a pinch of his fingers, he forced Kane’s mouth shut. “Be quiet.” And much to Kane’s chagrin, his lips were sealed; finally, the room experienced some silence. Maximus took a deep breath of air, tapped his long-nailed fingers upon the wood.

Plagued with exhaustion, he said: “Colm, please explain the situation once more.”

Nodding, Chairman Colm replied: “Of course.” And calmly, he turned to face Akiva. His eyes were pitch black, glassy. He explained: “Akiva, there occurred a major security breach two days ago in Haliford.” And with a sigh, he added: “Our military mobilization was an… abject failure.”

Akiva raised an eyebrow. She frowned, leaned herself over the conference desk, and said: “No. No, that’s not possible. Haliford has no record of militia activity.”

Colm smacked his lips and replied: “That’s what you’d think. But we ran into an unexpected snag.” And, with a serious expression, he slid a primitive photograph across the table: in black-and-white shone the smiling face of a Meowscarada.  Trapped within the thin layer of laminate, the Meowscarada appeared overjoyed. His eyes gazed at something just out-of-frame.

The Kecleon continued: “This individual appeared unexpectedly at Haliford prior to our invasion. It’s likely he followed us there from Augusta.”

Squinting her eyes, pinching the photo between her index and thumb, Akiva said: “I recognize this boy from somewhere.”

“You should,” Colm replied. “This photo is from three years ago during graduation ceremonies. And the boy is named Maestro; he’s the Academy’s star pupil.”

Iris interjected: “He works under Professor Rubrum, the aurum scholar.”

“Wait.” Akiva then dropped the photo, asked: “What the hell is our top scholar doing in Haliford?”

Colm replied: “Stopping our military advance, that’s what.” Between his fingers, he fiddled with a folder’s edge. “Just as we were set to begin the acquisition, he kicked up the surrounding ash.” And with a sigh, Colm admitted: “Single-handedly, he fought off our offensive. He also injured Cassius. Heavily. Cassius’s trachea was punctured, and his right eye was taken. At this point, we… don’t know if he’ll make it.”

“One Pokémon did all that?” Akiva echoed. “No. He has to have had help.”

“Quite the contrary,” Colm contended. “I barely escaped with my life. But…” And he bowed his head. “You must also know, Akiva, that Cassius’s lack of patience had something to do with our failure. He decided to pursue our invasion one day ahead of schedule.”

Maximus, against his will, physically cringed at the reminder. Refusing to look up from the table, he hung his head in utter embarrassment. The shame of a simple military excursion being foiled by a single Pokémon… he couldn’t believe Cassius would be so impetuous.

Colm continued: “Cassius also killed the negotiator whom the villagers sent us. He said he didn’t think negotiations were necessary. He also expressed that he resented being supervised.”

Maximus then barked: “And why didn’t you stop him?” He banged his fist on the table, shot a deathly glance toward Colm. “It was your responsibility to ensure he didn’t deviate from our schedule.”

“And I did my best,” Colm shot back. “But there is only so much I can do to contain a giant. A lumbering, doddering giant at that.” He then sighed, added: “Anyhow, Maestro could not be found following the assault. He is believed to either be with the remaining villagers or in hiding somewhere else. Likely the latter.”

Akiva pursed her lips. Softly, she placed Maestro’s smiling face upon the table, crossed her legs. She then asked: “I trust you’ve canvassed the village?”

“No, actually.” Colm’s demeanor betrayed a hint of embarrassment. “In truth, Cassius’s… um… performance has caused a litany of other problems.” He rolled a pencil idly under his index finger, staring off into the distance. “Before his injury, Cassius attacked retreating troops… his own troops. You can imagine what a disaster that’s been for morale.”

Akiva blinked in surprise. She said: “There’s no way he’d be this careless.”

“Carelessness has nothing to do with it,” Colm explained. “Cassius intentionally killed upwards of fifteen soldiers. Said something about them being cowards.” He sighed. “Rumors are flying amongst our army. Nearly half his regiment was killed. The remaining half are calling for his deposition.”

With a flourish of her tails, Iris interjected: “I’ve always known Cassius was a liability. But I never predicted he’d become so brazen.”

“Brazen? He’s crazy!” Hermes whimpered. He didn’t look up from the mound of papers in front of him; endlessly, his aching hand scribbled signatures upon dotted lines. “I’m surprised he didn’t kill one of us first. He’s a danger.”

“Don’t make such an assumption,” Maximus snapped.

Iris contended: “Regardless, we’re in a very precarious situation here. Soon, the army will become restless. Citizens will question where Cassius is. We cannot exist without a Chairman of Defense.”

A moment of silence ensued as the room weighed their options. Smoke drifted upward from Kane’s useless cigarette. Hermes shuffled papers to and fro in an endless procession. Akiva frowned.

“I advise that Colm stand in for Cassius while we appoint someone new,” Akiva said. “Their duties are most similar… and, moreover, Colm seems to have better rapport with our troops than Cassius does at the moment.”

Iris nodded and said: “I agree. Colm, do you think you could spin that?”

For just a moment, a devilish grin rose to Colm’s face. “Of course,” he chirped. “I’ve established quite a reputation among the common folk… especially those affected by Cassius’s recklessness. So I’d be glad to fill in.” Another smile. “Just for now.”

“What about your workload?” Maximus asked. “I’m dubious as to whether you could perform two distinct roles at once. Peacekeeper and Chairman of Defense… there are only so many hours in a day.”

Colm simply replied: “And with all due respect, we are at a critical junction right now. Diplomacy is the least of our concerns – we must quell our internal strife before dealing with external threats.”

With a cough, Kane managed to open his mouth. He bellowed: “What about Haliford? What’re they doing now that their village is destroyed?”

“Rebuilding,” Colm replied. “The best they can, anyhow. They also have formed a decent militia following our attack.” With a sigh, he then admitted: “In the wake of Cassius’s conduct, some of our soldiers have defected to provide local aid. They’ve bolstered Haliford’s defenses beyond our expectations. And their new village chief, a Seviper named Barbara, has rejected all envoys. As such, we are guarding their perimeter twenty-four-seven; they won’t starve, but they certainly won’t escape.”

Kane scowled. “Fucking nightmare,” he spat. “I can’t believe he botched such a simple job.”

Maximus, of course, ignored Kane’s blathering. “Akiva,” he interjected. “Tell me… has the Symposium hit any snags?”

Akiva replied: “No, sir.”

“Then,” Maximus continued, “it is the obvious opportunity for us to clear the air on Cassius.”

Akiva sighed. She said, “I suppose it would be. But the centerpiece of this event must remain our faith.”

Iris contended: “Naturally. And we’d never meddle in your event otherwise. But this is an emergency. If we hope to make a statement today – which, to be clear, would be ideal – then this is our earliest opportunity.”

“Of course,” Akiva echoed. Her stomach ached at the prospect of her event being hijacked. “I… understand.”

Maximus then added: “If it is alright with you, Akiva, I would like to make the announcement myself. I’ll abscond as soon as I can, of course. And we will assign you the necessary staff to prepare for my arrival.”

Akiva shuddered. In truth, she was terrified to disappoint Maximus; and the prospect of his meddling in her work made her uneasy. But nonetheless, Akiva nodded and said: “I will expect you, then.”

“Good.” Maximus then fingered around in his pile of paperwork, searching for the correct missive. Idly, he asked: “Now, Akiva… did you detect anything this morning as you awoke? Anything pertinent?”

Akiva shook her head. “No,” she said. “Nothing out of the usual. Grumblings, snippets of memories.” She swallowed, added: “Although, I’ve noticed that anti-human sentiment has been increasing in frequency. I suppose that is a good thing.”

“Very good,” Iris blurted. “I suppose that is the one silver lining of this incident… if we can maintain hegemony over how this incident is interpreted, humanity will become the one to blame.”

Just then, a knock rang out from the door. Maximus admitted them; and in strolled a Meditite, holding a clipboard.

“Chairman Maximus,” the Meditite said. “I’ve been instructed to inform you… Chairman Cassius is now conscious.”

“Ah,” Maximus breathed. He then stood from his chair and announced: “Thank you. Everyone… please excuse me.” And, with a huff, he began to shamble out. The rest of the Board then lapsed into stressful silence. Iris hung a thoughtful paw by her lip; Hermes wiped sweat from his forehead, flecks of it dripping onto his paperwork. Colm, however, was not content to sit around. He followed Maximus into the hallway.

Jogging to catch up with the gargantuan Alakazam, Colm said: “Chairman Maximus. A word, please.”

Noticing the small man’s desperate panting, Maximus said: “Ah, Colm. Of course.” His pace then slowed, his hands curling a little spoon to and fro in his grasp. He asked: “Was there something you needed?”

“Not in particular,” Colm answered, and brushed himself off. “If it’s not inappropriate, I’d just like to talk a little about… Cassius.”

Stopping in his tracks, Maximus glowered. “Okay,” he said, and pointed to his left – a small conference room. “Let’s talk here.” Colm followed him inside.

Maximus then closed the door, bathing the room in an uncomfortable silence. With a skeptical frown, he glanced downward at the little Kecleon; clearly, Colm needed to speak first.

So Colm said: “Maximus, I’m worried about Cassius’s mental state.”

Maximus replied: “I think we all are. This event is… traumatic, to say the least. Recovery will be difficult.”  

\t“No,” Colm protested. Fear laced his downturned lips. “I’m worried about Cassius on a more… foundational level.”

The Alakazam’s brows narrowed. “Colm,” he began, “I–”

“I know you’ve known him for decades. I know, I know.” Colm then took a deep breath, puffed through his nose. “It’s just that… during all those years, how often has he disobeyed a direct order?”

Maximus scowled at the assertion. He bellowed: “Colm, you’re out of line.”

“Am I?” Colm replied. Irritated, he shot a glance toward the hallway. “Look at what we are dealing with, Chairman. The greatest military failure in the past thirty years just happened. And whose fault was that?”

“Yours,” Maximus growled. “I appointed you to be his supervisor–”

Colm then interjected: “And in what world should our top military official need a supervisor? They are the supervisor.” A scowl. “His conduct on the front line was completely unprofessional. What could I have done?”

For a moment, Maximus was silent. His gaze passed over Colm, instead fixating on the windowsill.

Colm continued, “He crushed the village elder’s head like a watermelon. In front of me. And within fifty feet of the front gate.” He then swept his arm, added: “And to defy protocol and order the assault a whole day early? Our soldiers were not properly equipped. We barely had time to make proper formation. Some soldiers charged that village with no weapons.” Colm’s voice was rising now, reaching a fever pitch. “And then he killed his own soldiers. Publicly. We can’t hide it. No misinformation campaign could possibly withhold it all. Victims are already coming out.” A scoff. “Not to mention the sexual assault allegations. We can’t hide these things forever.”

Maximus’s expression soured. He said: “Colm, we cannot afford to make impetuous decisions.”

“Chairman,” Colm asked, “What happens when Cassius recovers? Hm?” His stare intensified. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to reinstate him.”

Maximus replied: “Show me one suitable replacement.”

“I would,” Colm said, “but he’s been unilaterally axing his competition for years. With all due respect, Chairman, he’s been allowed to act freely for far too long.”

The looming Pokémon scoffed. He said: “For all this talk about due respect, you’re majorly overstepping your authority.”

“But–”

“I selected Cassius when he was still a Rhydon. Do we not owe it to him to hear his side of the story?” Maximus snapped.

Colm clapped back: “Yeah, let’s hear out the war criminal. Let’s listen to the rapist. I’m sure that’ll make a killer PR campaign.” Exhaustedly, he chuckled. “Do you not understand how big this is, Maximus? If you even think about reinstating Cassius, the public will burn you for it. Hell, they’ll burn all of us. The only solution is to cut our losses.”

Maximus was quiet. Wordlessly, he shuffled his feet, frowned. Colm witnessed the gears turning in his head.

The Alakazam then said: “There was once a time I considered Cassius a close friend.” He smacked his lips. “But he’s different now. This position… changed him.”

Solemnly, Colm breathed: “Yeah, well… politics isn’t about making friends.” He paused. “It’s about power. And if you want to keep yours, you’d do well to take him down while you have the chance.”

\tColm then turned away and added: “I’ve said all I need to say. For my sake and yours… do something about Cassius.” He then opened the wooden door, stepped outside. “Goodbye, Chairman.”

\tMaximus was silent.



\t
 The air within the recovery ward was stagnant, putrid with the scent of cleaning solution and bitter medicine. Maximus gagged at the acidic vinegar smell. A single open window betrayed the sound of birds chirping; light shone through there, illuminating the gargantuan beast’s battle-scarred stomach.

The Chansey at his side nearly dropped her rags as Maximus approached. “Oh!” she huffed, and hastily dropped her load on the bedside table. “Ch–chairman Maximus. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were coming by. I would have cleaned up.”

With a raise of his thin-fingered hand, Maximus replied: “It’s no problem, nurse.” He then pointed toward Cassius and asked: “He’s conscious?”

“Yes,” the nurse replied. “He’s foggy, but… we’ve confirmed it.”

A quick glance at Cassius corroborated the claim. His remaining eye darted to and fro, reddened around the edges. Like an apple in a bucket, it bobbed.

The Alakazam cleared his throat. “Very well,” he said. “Nurse, could we please have the room?”

“Of course,” said the Chansey. And like prey, she fled. The room was near-silent now, save for the uncomfortable gasps of Cassius’s punctured windpipe. A rubber-lined tube stretched down into his throat, continually pumping air into his haggard, bloody lungs. Crimson-stained bandages wrapped his head, his arms, his jaw. The beast was still.

Maximus then dragged a wooden chair close, sat upon it. And with a touch of his finger upon Cassius’s rocky flesh, their minds connected. Without moving their mouths, they spoke.

“Cassius,” Maximus greeted. “I’m glad you’re awake.”

Maximus expected a smile, but that same horrified grimace remained upon the Rhyperior’s mien, stretched wide by the breathing tube; an expression of pain. His remaining eye quivered.

At last, Cassius said: “Maximus. You came.”

“Of course I did,” Maximus replied. His expression softened. “How long have you been awake?”

Spittle leaked from Cassius’s mouth. Expression unchanging, he said: “I don’t know. An hour.”

“And the pain?”

“Horrible,” Cassius said. “I feel horrible about all the… I feel horrible.”

Maximus nodded. Awkwardly, he tapped his leg, then said: “I’m here to ask about what happened.”

If the beast could’ve huffed, he would’ve. Instead, his eyelid slowly closed over that bulbous sphere on his face; and he replied: “Of course you are.” A pause, and then: “Tell me. What happened?”

“Haliford is under local custody,” Maximus replied. “The capture was a failure, but we have established a guard around the perimeter.”

Cassius’s chest rose and fell. He asked: “Is he dead?”

“Maestro is alive,” Maximus explained. Crestfallen, he then added: “But… we don’t know where he is. I’m sorry.”

The Rhyperior shook. “Then why are you here?” he snapped. “You should be out there. Searching.”

Maximus replied: “It isn’t so simple. You’ve caused quite a storm, Cassius. Soldiers are coming out against you in droves.” He paused. “They say they witnessed you killing deserters en masse. Is that true?”

“Is that true?” Cassius echoed. His eye bulged from its socket. “Is that true? That’s what you’re asking?”

Maximus shook his head. “You–”

“You should be asking them why they ran from battle,” Cassius spat. His jaw, near-unhinged, frantically gnawed at the breathing tube. “They abandoned post, Maximus. They left me. They left us.”

The Alakazam’s shoulders hunched. His brow furrowed, and he said: “Cassius, this behavior is unacceptable.”

“And now you’re chiding me? Am I a child? Do I tell you how to do your job?” A low growl sounded from the monster’s chest. “I’ve given my life to you.”

The spindling man clutched his spoon. “And our soldiers are calling for your resignation,” Maximus asserted. “What would you have me do?”

“Defend me.”

“Defend you? You’re not defending yourself,” Maximus replied. “We need an apology from you. Something. Anything. Your public image is in the toilet, and…” He swallowed. “...And the girls are coming out, too. It’s bad, Cassius.”

The comment seemed to give Cassius pause. Breath flowed unsteadily around his tube. “The girls,” he repeated. “The girls. The girls.”

“Cassius, we–”

“They’re fucking whores,” Cassius barked. “Every single one. Dumb, slutty, lying fucking whores.”

“Listen.”

“You believe them over me?” the giant pouted. “Hm? Is this where we’re at?”

Maximus struggled to maintain his composure. He gritted his teeth and replied: “I’m trying to help you. You just need to tell me–”

“No,” Cassius spat. “No, you’re not helping me. You’re trying to help yourself.”

“That’s not true!” Maximus contended. “You started a grease fire with this stunt. You need to give me something. Anything. Because if these allegations go unchecked, then…” He looked off, out of the window. “Then all hell breaks loose. And I can’t do anything about it.”

With a chuckle, Cassius replied: “Good.” Weakly, he then raised an arm to point at Maximus. “We all ought to take responsibility for our actions. Set an example.”

“What?”

“The people who fled… they’re traitors,” Cassius puffed. “And traitors should die. All of them. Drain this fucking empire to its bare essentials. It’s about time we saw who was truly loyal to Augusta.”

Maximus’s jaw hung open. “Cassius…”

“When I regain my station, there will be no more bullshit.” A stifled cough, barely wheezed past his breathing tube. His bloodshot eye shook with fury. “Maestro will die. Rubrum will die. Every damn student he’s ever taught will die. And we’ll create something new, Maximus. You, me, and the Pokémon we appoint.”

Maximus breathed: “Colm told me–”

“Fuck Colm,” the Rhyperior growled. “When we finally cleanse this place, he’ll be gone. Gone. It’ll just be you and me. No bureaucracy. No meetings. No middlemen. You and me, ruling. Under Arceus. Forever.”

Maximus stood from his chair. His legs shook. His lip quivered.

“Think about it,” Cassius snarled. His lips shook wildly at the thought. “Imagine a pure state. A pure people. Ideo–logically pure. Pure in body. Pure in mind…”

The Alakazam felt a tear roll down his face. Salty, small, it fell along his cheek, dried into his mustache.

 “Just you and I,” Cassius said. “My only true ally. My only friend.”

Weakly, Maximus whispered: “You launched the invasion one day early. Half your regiment is gone. The other half is deserted.”

Words flowed from Cassius like vomit. “Then fuck them! Fuck them all. We can rebuild. Stronger, and better. With Pokémon who’ll do their damn jobs.” He wheezed. “We’ll conquer Haliford. We’ll take every fucking feral village by storm. Their blood…” He chuckled. “Their blood will herald a new age. A new fucking age.”

“You’re not listening,” Maximus said. His voice was weak now, small. The beast barely heard it. “You never listen.”

Cassius’s body shook with excitement. He blurted: “We’ll save the world.” The smallest bloodthirsty smile curled his lips upward. “Maxie, we can save the world. Don’t you want to do that with me?”

For just a moment, Maximus could see the Rhydon he once knew. Underneath it all. That innocent, kind, naive boy.

“What happened?” Maximus asked. He stifled the urge to cry. Shakily, he laid a long finger upon Cassius’s forehead. “What the fuck happened?”

Cassius’s tongue lolled from his misshapen mouth. He said: “What happened? What happened… is that we’re winning. Our enemies are on the run.”

Beyond Cassius’s window, the clouds parted. Pidoves chirped. Sunlight illuminated Cassius’s round face. Maximus’s finger laid a long shadow across his mouth, as if slicing it in two.

Maximus said: “At this angle… you remind me of her.” Resolution settled on the man’s downtrodden maw. “And it’s too late for you, too.” A quiet breath, a stifled sob. “I’m sorry. I failed you. I failed both of you.”

Cassius’s smile didn’t fade. Like a puppy greeting its owner, he stared at Maximus. And he said: “We’ll be immaculate.”

“Right,” Maximus said. He shook his head. “We’ll be unstoppable.”

Energy then began to coalesce within Maximus’s core. It traveled through his blood, through every inch of his viscera, and cried for release. The man’s stomach churned.

Tenderly, Maximus then probed within Cassius’s mind. Starting at the brainstem, he sifted through Cassius’s haggard breaths. From there, he moved up, up, all the way to his parietal lobes. Maximus left the neural clusters smoldering, each touch of his mind stripping Cassius’s myelin sheath. The monster shifted in his bed as he felt his arms limpen, his legs grow numb.

“Maxie,” Cassius whispered.

His parietal lobes gave way to the ocular; his ocular gave way to the prefrontal. Maximus lingered there, plucking the last fibers of Cassius’s consciousness. Frantically, those neurons sent signals throughout the brain, unaware that most of it had already been fried. Cassius’s eye flickered. A fleck of drool dropped from his lip.

“Don’t worry,” Maximus muttered. “I’ll make sure you won’t choke.”

A burst of psychic energy then wracked Cassius’s brain. Like an ancient ruin, the Rhyperior’s mind collapsed under its own weight; his memories, his dreams – they disappeared. Eye wide, Cassius drew his last breath. Maximus’s finger stayed there, resting upon his forehead.

Maximus cried alone.



“You don’t look half-bad without your mask,” Rubrum teased. With a flourish, he dripped his sponge within a bucket of warm, sudsy water. He then raised it to Maestro’s face, passing over the scrapes beneath the Meowscarada’s mint-colored fur.

Less than day’s march from Augusta, swaddled between layers of foliage and tree trunks and detritus, laid a shoddy camp. A fire pit, two tents, and a stockpile of non-perishable goods; nearby, a stack of purified water. A crude metallic tub, too, sat there; Maestro laid uncomfortably inside.

Maestro managed a chuckle. He waved his wrist, shot back: “And you don’t look too bad without your glasses, professor.”

Rubrum rolled his eyes. “Don’t sass me too much,” he joked, “or I might accidentally tear a stitch.”

And indeed, the stitches were many. A large gash stretched across Maestro’s left temple, down to his lower cheekbone; such was the impact of Cassius’s arm-cannon. Maestro spoke in slow, slight movements. It hurt to smile; but around Rubrum, he couldn’t help himself.

\tRubrum sighed, then said: “Seriously though, Maestro. Never risk your life like that again. You should’ve retreated the moment they broke through the gates.”

\tMaestro huffed. “And leave an entire village to die? No thanks.” He then motioned toward a nearby tent, said: “Plus, you shouldn’t say something like that when a survivor is around.”

\t“Well, I guess your nature can’t be helped,” Rubrum muttered. He worked his sponge over Maestro’s dirt-caked arms, his scarred back. “You’re very lucky, you know. Very very lucky. One scrape on the wrong artery and… well.”

\t“But–”

\t“You’re also lucky that Barb had messengers within the city. We might never have found you,” Rubrum scolded.

\t“Right,” Maestro said. “I’m such an irresponsible student, saving a village of innocents.”

\tRubrum quipped: “You’re also lucky that I love you so much, or I’d slap some sense into you.”

\t“Believe me,” Maestro said, “Cassius did enough of that.” He then stared at his blood-soaked paw, flexed it to and fro. “I still can’t believe I took his eye.” He frowned. “I don’t even know if he’s alive. I… I might have killed him.”

\tA moment of silence ensued. Shuffling then broke out from the nearby tent – Barb, packing her bags for the road. Her sharp, blade-like tail wiggled excitedly from the entrance, draped along the forest floor.

\tWith a grunt, she then removed herself from the crowded tent, a backpack strapped along her serpentine body. She announced: “Alright, that should be enough.”

\t“Good,” Rubrum replied. For a moment, he laid down the sponge, walked over to the Seviper. He then wrapped Barb snugly in his arms and said: “Thank you so much, Barb. I… I just don’t know what I would do if I lost him.”

\tBarb quipped: “Me neither.” She sighed. “But, um… it was the least I could do. I couldn’t keep him in the village, anyhow. The Academy is going to scour the entire thing looking for him… and our medical supplies are thin as-is.”

\tRubrum nodded, adjusted his glasses. He said: “Of course.”

\tWith much effort, Maestro then righted himself inside the tub. He asked Barb: “How were things looking when you left? Is everyone alright?”

\t“I dare say I don’t know much more than you,” Barb explained. “But… those who hid in the mines seem to be safe. And the border patrols seem sparse – likely owing to Cassius’s little psychotic breakdown.” She coughed. “Hell, I’ve even seen a couple of his soldiers tending to our wounded.”

\tRubrum scrunched his nose, then returned to Maestro’s side. “What a terrible general,” he spat.

\tMaestro shrugged. “Like it or not,” he said, “Cassius’s stupidity is what saved me. And I won’t look a gift-Mudbrae in the mouth.”

\t“That’s true.” Rubrum then shifted his shoulders, attempting to soothe his aching muscles. He asked: “Barb… what is your plan now?”

\tBarb replied with a hearty laugh. “What’s next?” she echoed. “Well, obviously I’m gonna take care of my own. I have a wife in town. Might try and reopen my bar… eventually.”

\tMaestro quipped: “Even if the building is destroyed?”

\tThe Seviper shrugged. “It’ll be an open-air bar for a while,” she admitted. “Regardless, Augusta is reeling. With all the soldiers they’re hemorrhaging, they don’t have the resources to try and recapture Haliford.” She then sighed, added: “Maybe I’ll try and find our people a new home. I don’t know. People are hurting.”

\t“True,” Maestro said. He winced, attempting to stretch his arm out; staples held his joint in place, his elbow continually outstretched. “Much luck to you, Barb. I’ll see you again.”

\tBarb smiled. “Of course, Maestro. Thanks for being a hero.” She then nodded at Rubrum, turned tail, and began her trek back to the ash-covered village. Only the screech of Ninjask filled the air now. Maestro sank into the tub, water sloshing around his battered body.

\t“I take it the news in Augusta is causing a panic?” Maestro asked.

\tRubrum smacked his lips and replied: “Last I saw, the Board had yet to put out an official statement.”

\tThe Meowscarada raised an eyebrow. “Truly?” he asked. “That’s weird.”

\t“It is,” Rubrum replied. “It’s a PR disaster, but… they’re still wringing their hands.”

\tMore silence. Rubrum padded a soft sponge upon Maestro’s upturned nose, cleaned behind his fluffy ears. Globs of dirt and debris, tangled within Maestro’s matted fur, slowly came loose. They flowed down his shoulders in chunks, flowing alongside a torrent of brown water. The bath turned murky.

 \t“I love you,” Rubrum said.

Maestro replied: “I love you, too.” A pause, and then: “What’s our next move?”

“You and I?” Rubrum asked. “We do nothing. You need time to recover. A couple weeks, at least.”

Maestro nodded. “Right,” he said. “But what about the rest?”

“Well,” Rubrum began. “Our main focus right now is gathering some more information. And sadly, it’s likely that someone at Haliford recognized you – and by proxy, us. So that makes things more difficult.”

“Yeah,” Maestro muttered. “I’m sorry.”

Rubrum closed his eyes and said: “There’s no need to apologize, hon. We just need to rethink our plan, is all.” He then sighed, rubbed his temples, and continued: “Before I left, we learned that the Arcean Symposium is happening today. It’ll be hosted in Ceres Square, and it stretches nearly a mile into the city. Huge.”

“Really?” Maestro asked. “During the middle of a national emergency? That’s terrible timing.”

Rubrum shrugged. He said: “They planned this months ago… anyhow, we figure that if we’re going to hear anything useful about the weapon – erm, the Spear, it’ll be there. Fey will go alone, since he’s the most inconspicuous, and he’ll report back tonight. Asher, Sid, and Grimm will stay in the hostel.”

The feline seemed uncomfortable at the prospect. “What a shot in the dark,” he pouted. “We’re all wanted, and our plan is to attend a public event? What if someone recognizes Fey?”

Thoughts raced within Rubrum’s head. “Believe me,” he reassured, “if we had a better plan, I’d be executing it. But because of our previous… shenanigans… every governmental building is under extra guard.” He sighed. “No more break-ins. No more thieving. We have to get creative now. And, seeing as he’s so small, Fey is the least likely to be noticed.”

Maestro reclined in the tub, finger to his lip. “Where is Fey gonna look?”

“I’m not sure,” Rubrum replied. “In truth, our plan is, well… we don’t really have a plan. But they’re likely to make an announcement about Cassius there.” A pause. “If nothing else, we’ll know how they handle your little run-in.”

Maestro added: “And we’ll know whether Cassius is dead.”

“Right,” Rubrum said. “We’ll know that, too.” He then sucked in air through his teeth, said: “Although, I don’t know if anyone could live with a stone through their neck.”

“I dunno,” Maestro replied. His tone was downtrodden. “Part of me hopes he’s dead. But another part of me hopes he’s not.” Another glance at his claw. “Can you wash the blood off of my paw?”

Rubrum nodded. “Of course,” he said, and raised his sponge in the air. “And while I despise violence…” He gulped. “I really, really hope that brute is gone.”





Ceres Square bustled with Pokémon of all shapes and hues; small and large, tall and stout, their footsteps rattled the rickety cobble beneath. Streamers, too, pillared far above their heads, tethered to wooden poles stories high. On either side of the road, makeshift market stalls clamored with activity. Brokers peddled to and fro, shouting their prices, declaring their stock. The din made Fey’s ears ache.

Hidden beneath two layers of brown cloth, Fey trotted down the main thoroughfare. His little paws stamped on the stone, their footfalls quiet. His tail wagged. Had the circumstances been less dire, he’d have greatly enjoyed himself here.

Fey, unfortunately, had arrived late to the opening ceremony. Stood in a line beside the worn bleachers, he silently trudged his way onboard. A Cacturne loomed behind, accidentally prickling Fey’s backside; a Skuntank stood in front, his ass hovering worryingly close to Fey’s upturned nose. Truly, Fey thought, this is hell.

However, Fey was quickly relieved of this annoyance. With a sigh, he sat himself overlooking Ceres Square; his ribbons lolled idly from his cloak’s hood, turned starkly over his face. The show was about to begin.

Standard fanfare heralded its beginning; on the left and right, crowds of Augustan Academy students fingered brass instruments. Pompous feathers flew from their caps, those collared uniforms just barely obscuring their naked bodies. Maestro would’ve contended that the entire affair was a mockery of Augustan civility; Fey, however, was enthralled by the flying colors. With big glassy eyes, he stared.

From beyond the long blue curtains, Maximus then stepped. He appeared haggard, serious; and yet his chest was thrusted outward, his strut confident. Such was the nature of appearances, Fey supposed. Even amongst the most dire circumstances, those in power must maintain good posture.

Akiva followed him onstage. Dressed in flowing silver robes, she appeared saintly; as if she were sent from another time, another dimension. A force of nature, unhinged from reality, unpaired from cause and effect. Akiva was always meant to save Augusta. To resist would be to resist progress. These thoughts permeated Fey’s mind, whispering in the background. He dispelled them with a shake of his head.

With a coy smile, Akiva then proceeded toward the podium. Maximus stood patiently behind her, staring blankly into the massive audience. Spoons bent in his hands. He was nervous; Akiva prayed the audience didn’t notice.

Akiva then placed her hands upon the podium, listening intently to the uproar of thoughts from the crowd. Just barely, she could make out snippets from the myriad minds. In the front row, a wealthy investor observed Maximus’s demeanor with disdain; three rows back, a child experienced the worst day of his little life; twenty-five rows back, a frightened canine eagerly awaited the announcement, his cloak scratching at his sensitive ribbons. Akiva’s thoughts, in turn, intermingled with the crowd: leaking, permeating, coalescing. Her medication was wearing off.

A plastic smile then stretched across Akiva’s face; hundreds of Pokémon were suddenly urged to quiet for reasons they couldn’t understand. The Gardevoir then leaned forward, pointed her lips toward the brass amplifier. A small chuckle brought the audience to attention.

“Hello, everyone, and welcome to the twelfth Arcean Symposium!” Akiva bellowed. Applause then rang out, accompanied by whoops and cheers. The most dedicated Arceans screamed in support, rose their arms in the air. Stray roses flew on-stage. One landed upon Akiva’s slippered foot; she shook it off.

Her smile grew wider. “Thank you, thank you,” she called. “But today is not merely a cause for celebration.” The crowd grew quiet once more. Akiva’s demeanor fell. “Before we begin our usual inaugural remarks, we must make an important announcement.” She then turned toward Maximus, motioned him forward. “Please welcome Chairman Maximus, presiding Director of our esteemed Board.”

More applause. More cheers. Fey noticed an anxious energy come over the crowd. Here it was… the big announcement. Cassius’s announcement.

Maximus straightened his mustache as he awaited silence. And when it came, he cleared his throat, gave a wave to a front-seater. “Welcome, everyone,” he said. “I am so incredibly happy to see our attendance for this year’s Symposium. Record numbers have traveled to be here; truly, we are blessed to experience such a show of unity from Pokémon everywhere.”

His face then darkened. He placed a hand upon the pedestal, stared out over the crowd, and said: “But unfortunately, we must face a harsh truth which has recently afflicted our way of life. I’m sure most of you have already heard the rumors – and if you haven’t, consider yourself fortunate.” A deep breath. “Today, I will be telling you the truth. Nothing but. And it will take time for us to collectively comprehend it.”

A pause. Furtive whispers broke out in the crowd. Fey looked left, then right; both of his neighbors theorized amongst themselves.

“This past Friday, Chairman of Defense, Cassius of Caligen, and Chairman of Peacekeeping, Colm of Augusta, were traveling en route to a feral encampment – one named Haliford, about two days away. Their objective was simple: to negotiate the mineral trade from Haliford’s ample mining operations.” He frowned, suddenly saddened. “But somewhere along the way, things went wrong. These Pokémon, unbeknownst to us, were harboring a guerrilla troupe of human mercenaries. And, by the time negotiations had begun, their minds were resolute… that we would be attacked.”

More whispers. The crowd was unsteady now, swaying to and fro as each attendant attempted to verify the tale. Nobody could provide any answers. Fey’s jaw dropped. Maximus tapped the amplifier.

“A coalition of local ferals and humans soon attacked Cassius’s military contingent. We were taken by surprise; no one could have expected such a savage opposition. Our enemies kicked up dust amidst the chaos; and, unfortunately, a friendly fire incident occurred. Unable to see clearly, General Cassius inadvertently harmed his own soldiers with a Stone Edge attack. Shortly thereafter, he fell to an enemy Stealth Rock.” He gulped, holding back a quiver in his voice. “General Cassius was immediately escorted back to Augusta, but medical treatment was too late. He passed away this morning, surrounded by friends and family.”

The audience was thus thrust into uncomfortable silence; Akiva could sense their collective heart rates rising, their body heat spiking. Maximus, however, was aware of this collective anxiety; he knew exactly how to soothe it.

“This is a tragedy. Perhaps the greatest national tragedy we have suffered within the last three hundred years,” Maximus said. “We will all mourn General Cassius’s selfless devotion to his work, his unyielding strength, and his dedication to protecting all Pokémon from outside forces. But those forces… human and feral alike…” He sighed, shook his head. “Heroes like Cassius cannot last on the front lines. Their selflessness is simultaneously noble and tragic. Such was his nature – always protecting the helpless, curing the sick, and caring for the weak.” He then raised his hand high, swept it across the audience. “This Symposium – the largest Arcean Symposium of all – will not only serve to reinforce our faith, but to celebrate Cassius’s life. In the face of adversity, we will show unity.”

Uproarious applause ensued, accompanied by the terrified sobs of political fanatics. Children hugged their parents; the elderly shook, envisioning a crowd of humans invading the Augustan capital. Fey’s breathing quickened; it took all of his strength not to panic.

“Now, I’d like to make something clear,” Maximus continued. His tone was now resolute, a fist solidly placed upon the podium. “This incident does not weaken our resolution to protect the rights and liberties of Pokémon; rather, it emboldens us. But I’ll allow someone else to talk about that.” Maximus shifted, beckoned off-stage. “I’d now like to pass the amplifier to Colm, who was present on that fateful day. Due to his exemplary courage and loyalty during that time of crisis, he will be taking over Cassius’s duties temporarily until we appoint a suitable candidate.”

Applause. Applause. Applause. Colm stepped to the podium with a shit-eating grin. His eyes searched the crowd, darting here and there, unsynchronized from each other. Comforting words flew from his fat scaly lips: “Thank you, Chairman, for the opportunities you’ve presented today. Both to speak here, and to resume the work Chairman Cassius began. His shoes are certainly difficult to fill, and no one can fill them quite like him… but during times of crisis, we must all perform our best.”

Suddenly, Fey began to shake. Somehow, some way, he felt that Colm knew he was there. Even smothered by his cowl, head downturned, he was struck by the paranoid impulse. Vomit curdled in his stomach. He needed to leave. He needed to leave now.

Colm began: “Good morning, everyone. I concur with Chairman Maximus’s sentiment – we will get past this. We will move on, we will learn, and we will grow. Stronger. Stronger than ever before.” A pause. “But first, we must acknowledge another hard truth. This guerrilla force within Haliford… they had accomplices, hailing from within Augusta itself.”

Fey’s heart raced. He nudged past the Cacturne’s spined legs, suffering the spines plunging into his side. The cactus moved his leg clumsily, attempting to grant Fey passage; but Fey didn’t wait. He was plunging past all of them – ten, fifteen Pokémon – and barreled toward the bleacher’s stairway. The exit – he needed the exit.

Colm then motioned toward the backmost row; upon its top, a projector whirred to life. Behind Colm, a grand white screen extended; and faintly, amidst the rising sunrays, images began to coalesce upon it. Photographs.

“The main suspect of this incident is believed to still be at-large,” Colm explained. “This man is Maestro the Meowscarada – formerly the Augustan Academy’s top-ranked student. He was witnessed by numerous soldiers as coordinating the attack on our forces.” And there, on that rickety screen, arose an old photograph – Maestro’s smiling face, his eyes squinted, hidden behind his glamorous mask. He cradled a drink in his hand – the picture was taken during a happier time.

“Maestro is injured. Heavily so,” Colm explained. “But make no mistake. He is armed, and he is dangerous. Any possible sightings or information are to be submitted to the Department of Defense. We are taking all leads very seriously.”

\tFey then squeezed past the final Pokémon in the row, stumbled into the stairway. Popping from between a Mudbrae’s thighs, he landed face-first onto the wood. A splinter infiltrated his snout; as he glanced upward from the floor, he was met with the sight of Maestro’s carefree grin. The photo was then tugged off of the projector, replaced instead with three others.

“No,” Fey muttered. He ran down the steps, gunning for the exit. “Fuck, fuck. No!”

With a frown, Colm said: “These three Pokémon are believed associates of Maestro. From left to right, these are: his academic advisor, the esteemed Professor Rubrum; and students Fey and Asher of Augusta. They, too, remain in hiding. The same informational guidelines apply. Our ears remain open.”

The audience was clamoring now with surprised yelps. Throughout the crowd, each Pokémon swiveled their stare, searching for a matching face amidst the throng. Fey’s lungs burned; he shot a final glance over his shoulder, only to be met with his own smiling face. Photos – each taken from their Academy ID cards. Spotted, speckled with age. Fey looked so young.

He left the auditorium.



Fey delved down a dark alleyway, relishing in its frigidity. Right, then left, then right. Next to a puddle of blackish liquid, he sat, took off his hood. His warm, hot fur met the shadowy air. It was refreshing.

Desperately, Fey then attempted to calm himself. One breath in, one breath out. The din was far-away now, stunted. Clamor flew over the buildings like a shockwave, passing over the alleyways like frontline trenches. Fey wrapped himself in his ribbons. His lungs pounded against his ribcage.

“Shit,” he breathed. “Fuck, shit. Shit.”

 \tFey chided himself for not expecting this. Of course the Board would frame him. Of course they’d share his face. He never should’ve set foot inside that auditorium – he risked his life by even being near it.  Too risky… much too risky.

Moreover, the thought of Maestro killing Cassius made him sick. After all, Fey had always believed that change could be brought about peacefully; that if everyone just talked reasonably, they could set aside their differences. But now… now, things were different. Fey had wandered headfirst into a war. If it came down to it, would he have to take another Pokémon’s life? Could he?

Then, a cough rang out. It bounced off of the alley walls, met Fey’s ears like a punch. He snapped his head to meet its source, only to be met with their shadow upon the brick wall. Like a homunculus, they shambled along the same path Fey had taken. Following him. A metallic clang sounded with every step.

Fey’s breathing sped. His paws twitched as he considered his options. If he ran, he’d be in plain sight among the market stalls. But if he stayed, he might suffer the ire of his assailant. Fey froze; he steeled himself, watching intently as the shadow neared.

But as the figure turned the corner, Fey rested his haunches. It was an elderly Pokémon – a Sceptile, his leaves sun-bleached. A large pack rested upon his back, as if packed for a camping trip. A metal pan dangled from its bottom, swinging to and fro. It knocked against his haunches.

The Sceptile then spied Sylveon, gave a smile. He waved, walked closer. The elder’s bare calloused feet plunged within festering puddles, but he showed no reaction. Fey didn’t move, his eyes locked on the Sceptile’s swaying, wrinkled neck.

Nearer, nearer the man drew, until he stood in front of Fey. He then turned – slowly, methodically – and stared downward at the boy below. Fey’s breath caught in his throat. He squeaked out a quick greeting. The Sceptile didn’t move.

Fey asked, “Can I help you?”

And in a crackling voice, the Sceptile replied: “You look terrible.”

Fey raised an eyebrow. “Yeah,” he said. “I feel terrible.”

The Sceptile then straightened himself; and with a vigilant eye, he looked around. He saw no one in either direction. Words fell from his lips: “I know who you are.”

Fey’s mouth went dry. He asked: “Do you?”  

“They just showed your picture,” the Sceptile said. Empathy softened his tone. “You’re not safe here.”

The Sylveon whipped his ribbons in frustration. “Yeah,” he said. “I know. But I have something I need to do.”

“Must be an important something.”

Fey nodded. “It is,” he replied. “But, um… I don’t know if I can do it.”

More silence. Without warning, the Sceptile then shed his backpack; he muddled about within it, tossing around a myriad of cooking materials. Pots, pans, sacks of rice. And buried there, at the bottom of the pack, was his object – a festival mask. White, stern, with X-shaped spines protruding from its corners; it was meant to resemble Arceus’s girdle. Gold accents dotted its curves.

“Here,” the Sceptile said, and held it out. The sunlight formed a halo above his head. “I bought this last year. But… you might have more use for it.”

Fey gulped. And with shaky ribbons, he accepted the gift, fitted it to his face. The strap was taught around his neck. In confusion, his nose upturned, Fey stared at the radiant figure. And he asked: “Why are you helping me?”

The Sceptile simply smiled, donned his pack. He replied: “Pokémon ought to help each other out, hm?” And in a more somber tone, he added: “You have a hell of a ride ahead of you.”

“Y–yeah,” Fey replied. “I guess I do.”

The Sceptile then walked on, disappearing into the bustling street.



Clad in his newfound disguise, Fey slipped unseen throughout the crowd. He dipped and bobbed amongst that sea of robe-clad figures, masked jokers, and sign-toting fanatics. Red lettering rose high above their heads, attached via flimsy sticks. Protect our culture. The Feral Infection. Humans are KILLING us. Remember Haliford.

Fey frowned. Those shrieking, histrionic voices disappeared behind him with every step, but recurred ahead. Camped out along the roads, Arcean picketers espoused the horrors of the uncivilized. Ferals eat Pokémon eggs. Ferals and humans have orgies in the woods. Haliford was staged. They’re trafficking children through the mines. Open your mind. Do your research. There’s something evil out there.

For a moment, Fey thought of Sid and Grimm – anonymous, holed up within the dingy hostel. Cordoned off from the madness outside. He was grateful they weren’t here to see this.

A hand then landed on Fey’s shoulder. He jumped in surprise, then turned to face the assailant – a wild-eyed Conkeldurr, his stones painted with the visage of Almighty Arceus.

“You!” the Conkeldurr bellowed. “Tell me, do you support Bill AC-92251?”

Fey sputtered, “Wh–what?”

“Do you support Bill AC-92251?” the man yelled. His voice soared over the din. “In the name of Arceus, do you understand?”

Fey squinted his eyes. He could hardly see through the slits in his mask. “Um… I don’t know what that bill is,” he admitted.

As if eyeing prey, the Conkeldurr let loose a cocky grin. Immediately, he then jumped into his pre-rehearsed spiel: “We, as Arceans, deserve sovereignty in Augusta. We deserve a say in how things are run. Don’t you agree?”

“I–I suppose,” Fey said. His tone was lukewarm, his paws nervously stamping on the stone. “But I don’t know how, um… because th – we’re the minority.”

The Conkeldurr gave Fey a pat on the back, as if reassuring a child. “Minority?” he barked. “No, no, little one. We are the silent majority.” He swept his hand over the crowd and explained: “Look at all these people. They’re Arceans at heart. They celebrate our God, they eat our food, they enjoy our culture. Arceus gives them meaning, even if they don’t know it.” He then turned back to Fey and added: “It is our job to remind them of that.”

Fey blinked, surprised at the man’s unearned fervor. The Conkeldurr did not seem to notice Fey’s lack of enthusiasm, nor his attempts to disengage; rather, the man talked for himself to hear. Brutal self-vindication, over and over.

“Right,” Fey muttered. “Well, I’ll see you–”

“This bill – AC-92251 – it bans all negative mention of Arceus within city walls.” He smiled earnestly. “We’ll finally have some fucking power around here, huh?” And, like a weapon, he brandished a clipboard from atop his stone. “You’ll sign this.”

Eager to escape this interaction, Fey relented. “Sure,” he breathed, and took the pencil in his hand – its surface was slimy with sweat. He then scribbled a nonsense signature upon the page, turned tail. “Thank you for… um… protecting us?” he said over his shoulder.

“Of course,” the Conkeldurr replied. “May Arceus be with you!” And, not skipping a beat, he turned to the crowd once more, laid a hand upon a passing Glameow’s shoulder. “Hey, you!” he bellowed. “Do you support Bill AC-92251?”

Fey took the opportunity to run. He bounded through the crowd, his neck snapping in all directions as he attempted to discern his environment from crotch-level. Buildings on both sides, overflowing market stalls, towering bipedal Pokémon. Shouting, shouting everywhere; it overwhelmed Fey. Panic burgeoned in his chest, adrenaline pumped through his tiny heart. Time was moving too slow.

“Quiet,” Fey chanted. “Quiet, I need quiet…”

Fey sped up now. Darting between legs, just barely dodging footfalls, he barreled toward a small amphitheater on the edge of the festival’s perimeter. Much tinier than Ceres Square, it sported steel bleachers, upheld with intricate criss-crossing bars. About fifteen Pokémon sat upon it, their heads just barely rising above its horizon. Its entrance laid to the side – a simple gate, a dirt path. Fey ran toward it. And just as he passed the gate, another voice called out to him – close, to his right.

“Hold it!”

Frightened by the interruption, Fey stopped in his tracks; and from beneath the bleachers, two lights glinted – the crystalline gaze of a Sableye. The creature’s claws closed over the bars, wrenching his body forward into the light. He flashed a big toothy grin.

“Oh,” the Sableye said. “I didn’t know we expected another one this year. My apologies.”

With his voice stuck in his throat, Fey choked: “U–uh huh.” Thoughts raced in his head; he needed to get out of the street. So he spat: “Well, uh, thank you?”

“No, no,” the Sableye whispered. “Thank you.” And he disappeared once more beneath the bleachers. Not even a silhouette remained; and, in his panicked state, Fey chose to ignore the interruption.

The Sylveon then rounded the corner, only to be met with a dizzying sight: a small private stage, upon which Chairwoman Akiva herself stood. In all her grace, clad in pure silver robes, dripping with jewelry – there she was, the saint herself.

And, with naught but a swivel of her head, she commanded the small audience’s attention. In unison, the crowd turned to stare at the disheveled Fey. Each wore a mask identical to his own; however, Fey’s mask lay crooked on his face. The run to get here had not been pleasant. Balancing his breath the best he could, the boy managed a tepid: “Hello.”

Akiva replied in turn. “Hello,” she said, and motioned toward the seats. “You’re late, sir. The panel is almost finished.”

“Th–that’s okay,” Fey said. “Really.” And, awkwardly, he walked himself up the stainless steps, then sat himself on the row’s edge. Akiva began her service once more. The masked ones stared straight ahead.

Akiva declared: “Now… this service has been a bittersweet one, hm? And I am immensely grateful for your questions.” A smile. “The truth is, my dearests, that you all are the light. The cleansing force, unleashed upon Illumina so that it may be cleansed, made worthy of Arceus’s return.” She donned a swarthy, relatable demeanor, hands on her hips. “Think about it, hm? When you invite a guest to your home, what do you do? You clean up first. Can’t make a bad first impression!” Laughter from the audience, and then: “We’re doing the same thing here.”

Akiva then paused. A sullen look passed over her face. “The truth is, General Cassius dedicated his life to our cause. The purification of our faith, the continuation of our tradition… Pokémon, ruling over all. Until his last breaths, he believed in that.” She pointed a finger toward the audience, traced along every single face. “Each of us must seek to emulate his devotion. Not for glory; not for material wealth; for spiritual wealth. It is the only resource which may follow us beyond this mortal plane… the only qualification for the kingdom of Arceus.”

Just then, Akiva caught sight of a signal off-stage. Two flashing eyes, peeking from beneath the bleachers. It was time to wrap things up.

“Okay,” Akiva announced, and clapped her hands together. She maintained her faux-enthusiastic shtick. “That concludes our service today. Thank you all for attending, truly… each of you are blessed by our Lord himself. Our next service will begin in forty minutes. Goodbye for now.” And, with a bow, she summoned uproarious applause from the tiny audience. Surprised at their fervor, Fey joined in – he didn’t want to stick out.

Akiva then disappeared behind the little white stage. The audience then stood, stretched their legs, and began to shuffle outward. Fey did not follow suit; instead, he waited until the auditorium was nearly empty, shuffling out after the last attendee. At the last moment, however, he broke course. Casually, Fey walked behind the stage. He could smell Akiva’s perfume on the air; she’d passed through here on her way out.

And alas, hidden behind the stage, there was a large white tent. Like a circus, its pointed tip stretched toward the heavens; its outside, however, was plainly adorned. It was clearly meant for functional use rather than appearances.

Still catching his breath, Fey paused outside of the mammoth structure. The sight was a lot to take in – isolated from the bustling street, cordoned behind the stage, it all seemed oddly calm. The quiet steeled his nerves; and, with a huff, he decided to enter the tent. Its flaps swallowed him up.

The tent’s insides were barren, save for a simple couch in its center; in front of it, a low-hanging coffee table. Akiva sat upon the couch casually, her back just barely resting on its cushion; a teacup sat in her hand, balancing delicately upon a small dish. And, with a smack of her lips, Akiva replaced the teacup onto her table. She greeted Fey with a tepid smile.

“You’ve decided to join me,” Akiva said. “I’m glad. I was worried I’d have to enjoy tea time alone.”

\tThe sight of Akiva made Fey shiver. He asked: “Did you know I was going to be here?”

\tAkiva ignored the question. Instead, she motioned to the tent’s corner – a gilded gramophone sat there, a disc spinning on its plate. Harmonic piano belted from its brass horn. Fey thought it was beautiful. And Akiva said: “That player there… and the disc, too. Do you know where it came from?”

\t“No,” Fey replied. “I don’t.”

\t“Grand City,” Akiva explained. “It was expensive. Horribly so. Import taxes and such. But…” She smiled, reverence tinging her tone. “Even the most base savages may bless us with their tidings, hm? Out of muck comes beautiful art. Everyone has their place.”

Hardening himself, Fey said: “I need to ask you about the Spear. A–and I don’t want to fight you.”

Akiva rolled her eyes. She asked, “Must everyone suffer your impatience?” And with a curled hand, she patted the seat next to her. Piano chords belted overhead. “Come,” she said. “We ought to spend some time together first.”

Fey blinked, then narrowed his eyes. Truthfully, he had never expected such a warm welcome; he was hesitant even to sit aside Akiva. After all, the situation was just too perfect. Doubtless, guards awaited outside, ready to swoop in. Or perhaps the tea was poisoned. Or Akiva was readying a psychic attack. Or–

“I’m not going to poison you,” Akiva said. “So you can stop your ruminating. It’s distasteful.”

Fey frowned. “You can read my mind.”

“Not just yours,” Akiva explained. She then patted the seat once more. “Now… sit.”

And, despite his better judgment, Fey followed orders. Gingerly, he lifted himself onto the couch, leaned against its arm. He was only a foot away from Akiva now, inspecting her glittering, pristine get-up. The slightest glance terrified him. Akiva sipped her tea.

“I take it you’re not an actual Arcean,” Akiva said.

And Fey replied: “No, I’m not.”

“Where’d you get the mask, then?” Akiva asked. “They’re exclusive, you know. And quite expensive.”

The answer danced on Fey’s tongue, but he clamped his lips shut. Instead, he removed the mask and replied: “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Of course,” Akiva said. She then placed her tea cup on the table, echoing. “Of course, of course.” And with a furtive sigh, she turned to face Fey, hands resting calmly upon her lap. And Akiva asked: “Do you know what it’s like to be born with a gift, Fey?”

Fey frowned. “No,” he said. “I don’t.”

“I do,” Akiva said. She then pointed to her head, as if brandishing a firearm to it, and explained: “From the moment I was born, I’ve been blessed by Arceus with the gift of hearing. Hearing thoughts.” She smiled. “From everywhere, all at once. From streets away, across town, the same room. Random thoughts. I can’t control it. Not even a bit.”

Earnestly, Fey asked: “That’s a gift?”

“Yes,” Akiva snapped. “It is.” And, regaining her composure, she continued: “For the first ten years of my life, I was a husk. I was… I was paralyzed by the voices. I didn’t know what was happening.” She frowned. Her tone turned somber. “I secluded myself. I didn’t talk to anyone, not even my foster parents. Anyone I told, they… they said I was crazy.”

An unnatural smile then flashed across her face. “But I’m not crazy. I never was. I was simply… unrecognized. Unborn, like an uncarved block of clay. Do you understand?”

Biting his lip, Fey replied: “Yes, I do.” And with a huff, he asked: “So who, um… so how did you…”

Akiva’s eyes then alit. “Our lord Arceus, of course.” She then clutched her hands to her chest, closed her eyes. Music soared. “That first decade… all the suffering I experienced… it was a crucible. A test. By Arceus Himself. He made me. He made me for a purpose… to help all Pokémon.” She then shot a glance downward at Fey; obsession boiled behind those silvery eyes. And she said: “I’m trying to help you. So why… why would you interrupt my work?”

“Because you’re hurting Pokémon,” Fey said. His voice cracked, tinged with terror. “Y–you invaded Haliford. You hurt my friend.”

 Akiva didn’t flinch. She stated: “Maestro? Frankly, he shouldn’t have interrupted an active military operation.” She scoffed. “Although, I will say… I admire his fighting prowess. Colm had quite the story afterward.”

“You almost killed him.”

“He almost killed himself.” Akiva laid a finger upon her temple, gave it a light massage. “We’re building a better future for all Pokémon. And yet… some Pokémon still want to fight against that.” She paused. Remorse made her eyes water. “Why do they sacrifice themselves at my feet, hm? For nothing. Every Pokémon who has ever – ever – stood in our way has died. For nothing.” She spoke faster, louder. “You ask why I do what I do. But I ask you, Fey… why do you continue to fight back? Why do you trip over yourself to hurt me? All I’ve ever wanted is peace.”

“Peace?” Fey echoed. Anger rose within him, made his little paws shake. “Y–you’re not making peace. And you’re not fighting for all Pokémon. Not for ferals. Not for Dark types.” His temper flared. “You’re just killing everyone who disagrees with you.”

For a moment, silence filled the room. Fey was surprised at his own foolishness – those inflammatory words had flown from his mouth before he could shut it. And now he sat face-to-face with Akiva, watching her every move. A little twitch of her lip, her eyes staring off; Fey’s heart raced. Dissonant chords screeched from the gramophone.

And, with grace fit for a queen, Akiva stood. She walked calmly to the gramophone, then removed its needle from the disc. The music cut out with a sizable buzz.

Akiva asked: “Do you know how a saint is made?”

“No,” Fey replied.

Akiva nodded. And she said: “With a loving hand.” The memory made her face twitch. “Maximus discovered me on the eve of my tenth hatchday. He told me that my abilities were a gift.” A warm smile graced her lips. “He taught me… everything. He made me realize I’m not a burden. That I could help other Pokémon. I could build a better future. Cassius and I… he saved us both.” Akiva then turned to the Sylveon, still sat beside a cup of lukewarm tea, and she asked: “Fey… if I offered you my hand, would you take it?”

\tDeep sadness burgeoned within Fey. He replied: “No. I wouldn’t.”

\t“Even if it meant you could save everyone you love?” Akiva asked.

\tEnflamed, Fey asked: “Is that what the Spear is for? Saving Pokémon? Helping Pokémon?” His ribbons whipped. “How does eradicating humanity help us?”

\tAkiva barked: “Arceus will return to Illumina. He will spare us–”

\t“You can’t just blame Arceus for all the bad things you do!” Fey yelled. “The problem isn’t humanity, or dissidents, or Dark types, or ferals. It’s you,” he said. “You need to take responsibility for that.”

 A pregnant pause then permeated the air. Akiva hung her head low; genuine hurt flashed on her face. And she said: “I take it you aren’t going to listen to me.”

Mustering as much bravery as he could, Fey replied: “I guess not.”

Akiva replied with a simple nod. She muttered: “That’s a shame.”

The Gardevoir’s eyes then flickered in Fey’s direction; magenta light shone from within. Fey recognized it – that bloodthirsty gaze, the slight intake of air. Energy coalesced within Akvia’s mind, swelling, swirling. Fey jumped off the couch just in time; where he once sat, a flood of fuschia-flavored energy then shot from the spike on Akiva’s chest, tearing the seat in half. Fluff flew from its center, shot up into the air like snow. Fey’s paws landed on the grass with a thump.

“Stop!” Fey yelled. “I don’t want to fight you!”

But Akiva didn’t listen. She flickered her gaze to meet him, obviously charging another attack; but much to her chagrin, Fey was quicker. He barreled toward Akiva like a bullet, head-first, and bashed his skull against her stomach. Akiva flew backward with a surprised gasp, her dress flowing, and crashed into the gramophone. Its rim tore the tent’s wall, sliced her cheek; blood trickled onto her pristine robes.

“You…” Akiva growled. “You shouldn’t have done that.” And, stooped over the wreckage, she raised her palm into the air. Mystical Fire instantly bloomed from her flesh; the plume just barely grazed Fey’s nose. He stumbled backward, fell on his ass, as he hurriedly scooched away from the flame. Fey’s cloak smoldered.

“Damn it,” Fey cried, and puffed smoke from his nose. His environs were surrounded by a haze now, stoked by a mixture of burning canvass and couch stuffing. He could just barely see Akiva’s silhouette amidst the smoke; she stood next to the broken gramophone, straightened herself. Fey waited there for a plume of energy, a movement, anything; but it didn’t come.

Fey spat: “Akiva, stop!” His voice crackled, his paws shook, but he didn’t relent. “I–I don’t wanna fight you, but… I need to protect myself. I need to protect my friends!”

Still, no response. The Gardevoir’s silhouette simply stared, her fists clenched. And slowly, she backed further into the cloud, past the tent’s gash; she was escaping.

“No!” Fey cried. “You’re not leaving!”

And, with a skip in his step, Fey bounded forward. However, he only managed to land a couple steps before he felt a hand on his shoulder. The sensation caught him completely off-guard, and he snapped his neck backward to meet the assailant.

“What the–”

But Fey couldn’t utter another word. Hung over his shoulder, he was met with an unexpected sight – Akiva’s face, hovering only an inch away from his. Magenta spirals filled her eyes; a close-range Hypnosis attack, unavoidable. The Gardevoir had Teleported behind him.

Pain flashed in Fey’s eyes. His throat muscles suddenly grew lax, his lungs weak amidst the smoke. He could already feel his legs swaying.

“No,” Fey slurred. His jaw hung open, his tongue gnashing against his palate. “No, no. No, please.”

\tAkiva simply placed a finger upon his maw, shushed the boy. She then watched as Fey fell onto his flank; and once he stopped twitching, she scooped him into her arms. Like a helpless puppy, he was held snugly against Akiva’s breast. The Gardevoir smiled warmly.

“It’s okay,” Akiva whispered. The tent around her burned. Fey’s eyelids lowered. “It’s all over now, Fey. Let it go.”

Fey’s vision was fading now; uncontrollably, he could feel himself curling into fetal position, snuggled against Akiva’s warm stomach. He tucked his tail between his legs, pulled his paws close to his core; and, tucking his ears against his head, his consciousness lapsed.

And, as she’d done many times before, Akiva then readied her Dream Eater attack. She frowned, then closed her eyes; her hands glowed. Like a surgeon readying their tools, the Gardevoir steeled herself to enter Fey’s brain. Pressure made her head pound.

“That’s it,” Akiva cooed. She then laid a finger upon Fey’s forehead, traced it down onto his nose. “Let me in.”

\tLike a ravenous beast, Akiva then cannibalized Fey’s dreams. Starting at the edges, Akiva nibbled at their periphery; emotions, thoughts, relationships. They danced on Akiva’s tongue – a delicacy, surely. Only to be experienced once. Fey stirred and yelped in his sleep. Blood dripped from Akiva’s nose, landing squarely onto his flank.

\t“Just like that,” Akiva whispered. “That’s it. That’s it… just let it go.”

\tAnd, as if punctured by a needle, memories spilled loosely from Fey’s mind. Akiva listened intently, honoring each as it passed her gnashing teeth. Such was the honor she bestowed upon him; it was her duty to savor the meal.

Bone feels porous against my tongue, Fey spilled. His brain unspooled like thread. Archaeology class is so hard. I’m flying to the sun. Asher held my hand for the first time the other day. Professor Rubrum made me bitter tea. I need to take a shower. Leeks from the store. Simmer for thirty minutes.

\t“Good,” Akiva breathed. “Good. Give yourself to me.”

\tIt’s too hot today. The candle burns my ribbons. I’m studying – keep the lantern on. Crying in Rubrum’s dorm. The first day of Autumn. Salvation. Leaves are dancing. The passage in the library… Invi’s eyes. Deep, blue. He’s inside me.

\tFor just a moment, Akiva’s focus broke. Her brow furrowed, her grip tightened on Fey’s haunches, as she processed what she’d just heard. “Invi?” she muttered. “How did you… what did he…?”

\tAnd, just as suddenly as Akiva’s focus had broken, a sharp pain burrowed behind her eye. Like a rail spike, it hammered into her skull; acid rose in her throat, just barely curbed from her mouth. Her own Psychic power overloaded her; blood shot from her nose, her eyes squeezed shut. Fire crawled up the tent’s walls.

\t“Damn it!” Akiva shrieked. And with a mighty moan, she stood on those knobby, unsteady knees; her head in her hands, she groaned in agony. Psychic energy pervaded her, turned inward; it made her heart speed, her entire body convulse. With trembling fingers, she reached inside the pouch affixed to her hip. “Not now!” she shouted. The words rang in her skull. “Not now. Not now. Not now. Not now.”

Voices flooded her, sickened her, became her. A Simisear died of old age three streets away; she felt his last breaths. A Conkeldurr, sticky with wheat paste, affixed a poster to a brick wall; she felt his anger. Like an engine overheated, she couldn’t contain it. Her brain ate itself.

In a fervor, Akiva grasped a white pill from within her pouch. Her bodily control had degraded such that she could hardly grasp it. She then popped it in her mouth; but alas, she couldn’t swallow it. Spittle drooled from her lips, heralding a torrent of vomit; and up it came, spilling out over the grass.

Above her, wooden bearings smoldered. Its surrounding canvass had long since caught fire, burning their supports, weakening the structure. Crackles sounded from above. Akiva fell to her knees. With her palms against the earth, she attempted to crawl away. The smoke made her cough.

Fey awoke amidst the noise; his ears unfurled, his paws stretched, as his consciousness slowly emerged. As his eyes adjusted to the light, before him laid a horrid sight: Akiva, on all-fours, her eyes squeezed shut. The Gardevoir cradled her head in her hands, her forehead pressed against the ground. White pills surrounded her, spilled haphazardly from her open pouch.

A quick glance upward betrayed the tent’s collapsing frame. It cracked and shifted under its own weight; and shaking under its central pillar was Akiva. Helpless, she gritted her teeth.

“Akiva,” Fey whispered. On shaky legs, he somehow managed to stand. Swaying to and fro, Fey called out: “Akiva, w–we need to go.”

But Akiva couldn’t hear. The fire’s roar blended seamlessly with the chorus of voices in her head. In that moment, Akiva was no one. A vessel for others. A radio antenna, burning, heaving.

“Akiva,” Fey slurred. He put one paw in front of the other; as if learning to walk again, he stumbled forward. More crackles. Those tiny iron fastenings gave way overhead, falling under their own weight. Fey panicked.

“Akiva!” Fey yelled. “Move!”

Fey then lurched toward Akiva’s crumpled body; despite the pain, despite the smoke, despite his brain’s unraveling, he ran. And, without thinking, Fey used Take Down on the shivering Gardevoir.

 And like a cannonball, the pair’s bodies shot into the air. Both flung past the tent’s frame and landed on the grass outside, covered in a smattering of blood, ash, and vomit. Their skulls rattled. Akiva’s head crashed against the ground; prone, splayed on her back, she watched as Fey regained his footing.

Fey then turned toward her, his ears perked; Pokémon were running toward their location, shouting for support. They’d seen the inferno from a distance. In less than a minute, Fey would be surrounded. He needed to go. Now.

But Fey didn’t move. He stared at Akiva – that helpless, injured figure. In the span of only a few seconds, the prospect of her death loomed in his mind. He could stomp her head right now; a single well-placed Moonblast would also do the trick. He could end it. He could end it all right here.

Akiva stared at him; blankly, he stared back. Sirens sounded overhead. The tent collapsed in its entirety; a cloud of smoke and ash plumed upward. But still, Fey didn’t move.

“Kill me,” Akiva muttered. “Just like Cassius. Do it. I know you want to.”

Fey shook his head. Frustrated tears beaded along his eyes. “What would that do?” he slurred. “Why should I have to kill Pokémon just to get my way? Why can’t you just fucking listen to me?!”

“Because you’re stupid and naive,” Akiva contended.

\t“And you’re a monster!” Fey spat. “You kill Pokémon for nothing!”

\t“I kill terrorists,” Akiva said. “All of the freedoms you cherish… you owe those to us.”

\t“Oh, please. You only care about freedom so long as you’re at the top,” Fey shot back. “And it’s pathetic! Maximus is using you, and you’re too blind to realize it.”

\tAkiva chuckled. She said: “If you were in my position, you’d do the same thing.”

“I would never be like you,” Fey growled.

In the distance, footsteps grew closer. Fey attempted to think of something else to say, but failed. His entire body ached. Begrudgingly, he turned tail.

Over his shoulder, he warned: “I’m not going to stoop to your level. But next time we see each other, I… I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold back.”

And with glassy eyes, Fey ran. Disoriented, he stumbled into a nearby alley; Akiva witnessed his tail disappear around a corner. Medics approached from the opposite direction, astonished at the wreckage. They ran toward the Gardevoir’s limp body in a panic.

Akiva prayed for forgiveness.
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