❝ One wish

one heart-shattering moment of desperations

can destroy

your entire life. ❞

Cresselia

...Why am I even doing so much for him?

It had been two days—two days since we obtained the fourth element of Arceus' laws—the very laws that had been instilled into us from the very moment we had been created. Laws that we were supposed to swear by—and here we were tearing our education to pieces.

Maybe the Lord wouldn't even call us Legendaries anymore. We weren't doing anything to help the world anymore, and we hadn't done anything to deserve such a prestigious title. If anything, we were dragging this word through nothing but filth in the eyes of others.

I was happy for my brother, however. Yes, he was on a different side for me, and I was aware that he would do anything in his power to stop me—that was the extent of his utter hatred—but I was glad that for once, our side were switched.

He's working with Arceus, is he not? A small smile crossed my face as that thought drifted into my mind. Years and centuries ago, he was sworn enemies with our Creator—he really has come a long way. It almost makes me proud of him—in a strange way, of course.

It was at times like these that he felt the most mortal to me—yet, it pained me that it was for all the wrong reasons. Still, he was now on the path to improving—and I determined to bring the Legendary back to his former personality no matter what.

I did treat him as a little brother at times—and I wouldn't stop.

But I had to go back to the topic—just why was I doing so much for him? Why was I doing so much for the very creature who wanted me dead—not that it was possible as of now—the very creature that despised me with all his heart for throwing him into an endless nightmare?

There was also the memory loss to think about, however—if I paid more attention, there was a clear lapse in my thoughts. Recollections of old, worry-free days were starting to drift from my mind—and a icy fear licked at my heart, reminding me that the bundle of memories were tied together with nothing but a fragile string—a thread that could very well be broken at any moments.

This was Fate's—Arceus'—way of telling me that I was running out of time. This curse ate away at my mind each moment—no matter how insignificant it may have seemed; no matter the millimetre of myself that I lost, it would all snowball into something much bigger over time.

Some things are getting unclear to me, I panicked. Like the time we met—the exact details of it are getting blurry. Gaps are starting to form in this chronological logic of mine.

So why? If my own thoughts and recollections were so hazy—why was I willing to go so far just for this? To create a past for both of us—one that I had thought necessary for the Legendaries' eventual happiness? If I couldn't remember, what was the point of this kindness?

"Hey." A voice broke me out of the trancelike state I'd been in—perhaps I'd been too engrossed in my own thoughts; I had barely noticed what was going around me or what I was even doing—and I looked up to see Jirachi staring at me with an annoyed gaze. "Snap out of it."

Tensing up, I gazed at her in surprise—and her next sentence was coarse. "I understand that you feel upset about your memories, but I have already warned you about it," she stated. "Yes, you were worried, but you decided to continue on nonetheless. That proves that deep down, your decision is already made—and besides, you cannot do anything about this now. You can only continue—and win."

"I am indecisive," I admitted, bowing my head in defeat and letting out a long sigh. "But you are right. We have no choice now—and if I do not have the freedom to choose, then I will devote my mind wholly to this matter—and I have full intention of getting Darkrai back to his original state."

Meloetta laughed at my sentence, green hair flying behind her as she rode the winds, floating up to me with ease as we flew through the air.

"Now that's more like the correct mindset!" she exclaimed, and her azure eyes sparkled as she spoke—she looked so happy and contended, as if the previous incident with the Absol hadn't ever happened. "Your words may be a little cheesy, but that's fine—all it matters is that you're thinking right in the end."

The wish-granter glanced at her, a slight smile gracing her face as she noticed her fellow Legendary's exuberance—but when she turned back to me, I could see the confusion and suspicion in her eyes—a look that mirrored my own.

...Why is she so cheerful? My mind kicked into overdrive—she had seemed to care so much for the Absol; she almost seemed upset at his suffering—and yet, the happiness she now showed was so genuine—it was hard to decide which side of her to trust.

Jirachi's voice filtered into my head—it seemed that the trust she once held in her other friend was wavering. "She has helped us, though." Her tone was one of unsureness. "Let us trust her for now. It has always been her nature to be a little eccentric—besides, she has not done anything to deter us from our goal."

With that, she widened the range of her telepathy so that it now reached Meloetta too—and her eyes fell dull as she recounted the next line of the prophecy.

"An angel paths the way of hope and light," she started, "but despair clouds the vision of those wishing true."

"We do not even need to think about it," I interjected—and a sense of accomplishment ran through my veins at the notion that my wish would be completed soon—yes, the word held an indefinite number of minutes and hours and days—but the anticipation had started to swell in my chest. "This most definitely represents the rule of Hope."

Nodding in agreement, the Legendary tried to shield the small blush of embarrassment forming on her cheeks—she had left her intelligence behind for a moment.

"I apologise for forgetting that," she muttered back. "It had slipped my mind that Hope was the last element of Arceus' rules—but that makes it easier. We will not have to decipher this any longer—we will immediately go to find this Pokemon."

Catching up to us—she'd been lagging a little behind—Meloetta cocked her head as she spoke. "It really is thought-provoking, isn't it?" She continued before we could even ask any questions. "I mean, we have to break all of these orders in order to fulfil your prophecy. It is almost as if we are breaking free from Arceus himself."

I took a moment to ponder on my ally's words—it did seem to hide a layer of crafty symbolism that the Melody Pokemon had managed to unwrap—and she wasn't done analysing every nuance of our journey.

The dual-typed creature glanced at us with a curious gaze—yes, the lighthearted atmosphere she wove was infectious, but the reason why she would create such an ambience was unknown. "After all, we Legendaries were built so save him...and we will have to commit the worst sins in order to fulfil our separate desires."

A careless laugh tripped out of her mouth, and she shook her head—as if displeased with what she had just said. "That didn't make much sense," she commented. "I apologise—you must be confused now, right? Just do not listen to me—I am just spouting nonsense."

Giving a cautious nod in return, Jirachi turned back to me—her annoyance that we had gotten so far off topic was clear "I do not know of any Pokemon that could relate to hope," she reflected. "I do not even know how one survives without it. Hope is such a huge, abstract concept—how can we hope to destroy it?"

"I do not wish to destroy hope," I replied, a frown tugging at the corners of my lips. "After all, it is something that keeps us going...but it has to be done. Perhaps the prophecy is telling us to view hope in another way—maybe the subject of these two lines is seeing it in a bad light. I will look through Pokemon's pasts and check."

And, without waiting for either of my partners to respond, I let my mind fall into the familiar world of dreams once again—and when I next awoke, my soul was living in the past.

༺༻

Despite having chosen a past based on the kind of tenor it brought with it, I had to admit that this past was a little different from the rest.

Instead of the gloomy shroud of invisible shadow that had snaked around the doors—metaphorical symbols of gateways to creatures' histories—I could feel a sense of light shining from behind the wooden slab—one that was almost painful to touch.

I should have expected this, I reminded myself, shaking off my doubts and swinging the door open with a mere fraction of psychic energy. I should have expected this positivity; this is the element of hope, after all. Still...it is overwhelming. Almost sickening.

The door swung open to reveal a duo—that of a Pidgey and a much older Pidgeot soaring across the skies—a idealistic, picturesque image that was too cliched to even seem real. At first glance, they might have seemed like they were just having a bit of fun, but closer inspection brought me more answers.

While they did look as if they were flying free, I could see the barest hint of a Whirlwind swirling beneath one of the Pidgeot's wings, twisting the air and supporting the small bird's frame as they coursed through the air.

A frown rose to my face—at this edge, the youthful avian should have been capable of flight—so why was it that she had to be helped like this? My question was answered almost in an instant—I could see the bent angle of the small Pokemon's wing; the abnormal position of the appendage that hung by her side in a useless manner.

It was all too pleasant to watch them; however, I persuaded myself to stop, that this was serious business I was here on—and I willed the scene forward a little more.

Images blurred into each other as time sped up for a short few moments—and when my vision cleared, I saw the two of them landing—and the Pidgeot wrapping a comforting wing against his—was it his child? Or just an acquaintance?

"Why are you doing this, Master?" The birdlike Pokemon's tone was sorrowful as she gazed up at her mentor, onyx eyes dark with an unexplainable sadness—at least, it wasn't recognisable to a stranger like me. "You know that I will not be able to fly by myself—yet, why do you still do this? Don't you get that it hurts knowing that I can't do it by myself?"

The older avian's voice was warm as he replied. "I am not doing this to torment you," he argued—and his tone contained not a trace of sternness. "I'm teaching you to have hope. Your situation isn't hopeless—I bet that you can fly one day if you hang on long enough!"

A scoff resounded in response, and the Pidgey turned away—a clear expression of displeasure was etched into her features. "As if," she retorted. "My wing is beyond repair. There's no point to hope if you know you're trying to fool yourself."

Yet, some sort of smile was present in those words—it had melted into each seam, into each syllable, and there was no denying that she was contented with the —maybe it was because she was pleased just having her mentor by her side?

"Whatever, then," the smaller Pokemon sighed in return. "How are you even able to be this hopeful about things? You're not even related to me—I mean, Mum and Dad told me to give up on ever trying to fly. So why is it that you're still persisting?"

Slanted black eyes turned to glance at her trainee, and the Pidgeot—as if having become some sort of parent substitute for the little creature spoke once again, her tone filled with warmth that was filled with a simple logic that was so positive that I found it painful.

A laugh sounded, and a musical chirp left the older figure's beak. "Do we even need a reason?" His dark optics glittered. "Do we need a reason to hope?"

He was met with no response—it seemed that the Pokemon had no argument left in her—and the conversation was then closed, the two of them satisfied with the silence enveloping them. What was left of the diminishing evening light had now faded into the early moonlight—and they remained half tangled in the long blades of damp grass, pacified with the comfortable chill of the still night.

༺༻

"...Master!"

A shuddering breath left the Pidgeotto's beak, and he lurched forward—of course, it was quite pointless with his disabled wing, but he just had to reach the older Pidgeot before it was too late.

His mentor was falling from the air—it was just an unfortunate incident, a storm cloud's lightning bolt had chosen him as its next victim—and he couldn't do anything. His left wing flapped, powerless not unlike his disciple's wing—and he was only able to drag himself forward a few feet—he had only achieved a meagre glide in the end.

When he reached—dragging himself through the mud with small, miserable jumps and hops—the Pidgeot was almost unrecognisable—he could spot more than a few places where the avian's bone had shattered, and blood had made its unwelcome appearance, matting the creature's feathers and tainting them with an ugly shade of rusted crimson.

"I can't breathe properly." Despite the nature of that sentence, there was still a lingering trace of humour in his words, and the sentence came out muted and soft. "My windpipe's probably crushed. I'm going to die in a few minutes, so..."

"You can't," the younger Pokemon uttered, "you just can't. Weren't you the one who taught me to hope? Shouldn't you be hoping that you'll remain alive—so you can be by my side? So why are you just giving up now...?"

The tired voice was full of wisdom as he spoke yet again—he knew that the action would only speed up his death, so why was he choosing to sacrifice his life for these few sentences? "It's just science, you see. Hope is not a factor in death when you know that it is absolute."

"I hope that you keep hoping towards the very end, though."

With that, his breath was no more, and his dark eyes slipped close.