❝ Why?

When the most important things hang

in the balance

why do they disappear?

Is this punishment from the heavens? ❞

Darkrai

I could tell that Arceus was getting impatient, and I would be shameless to say that I was pleased with the Lord's mood—others would call me sadistic for this sort of thing, but I was used to that, and thus flashed an open smirk at the agitated Pokemon next to me.

"It seems that even creatures like you get angered." My voice was slow; smooth, and the Creator was in too much of a flustered mood to mask his shock. He was tense—I could see that in every muscle of his body. "Well, this is a rather rare occurrence, is it not?"

My partner took a deep breath, his emerald—I had never known how to describe his eyes; would they be named after the green sclera or the crimson irises?—glittering in agitation as he wheeled around to face me.

"I would appreciate it if you do not speak to me like that," he breathed—his voice was tight, controlled, and on the verge of exploding any moment—in all honesty, it bordered on the edge of hilarious, and I indulged in it with every bit of pride I could muster. "I am stressed enough as it is."

A sharp laugh escaped my mouth before I knew it—and I was about to bite back with a retort, but the beast interrupted me, his tone low and cross as he spoke. "I thought you had something to do," Arceus muttered. "You told me that you were going to pay Cresselia a visit, did you not?"

With a sly smile through the wispy shadows of my jaw, I spun around to turn away from the Creator. "Relax. I will be going soon," I replied. "Besides, I am your ally for now. Do not treat me as if I am an enemy."

I did not expect to hear a resigned sigh, but I guessed that life was always full of surprises, and I settled for raising an eyebrow at Arceus' vexed expression. "I apologise." His voice was low; jaded, and filled with so much sorrow—such an overwhelming sadness was kneaded through his slouched frame, and all thoughts of mock hostility vanished from my mind for a short moment. "I will treat you as such in future conversations."

For some strange reason—who knows? Maybe the Lord had affected me with his preaching of justice around the world—I felt compelled to comfort the god beside me, and I did nothing but scoff at his apologetic demeanour.

"How unbefitting of a deity." A smirk ran across my face—it was the one way I knew how to even 'comfort' others, and I refused to those flowery norms of society—if I was to make someone feel better, then I would do it my way. "You do know that you cannot do anything about this, so at least stop panicking. Just let Fate play its own course out."

And with that, I turned with a slight huff—and before Arceus could speak once more, I was already gone.

༺༻

As usual, I hid in the shadows—I knew it was pretty useless; that it would be a matter of time before Cresselia discovered me, but there was no particular reason as to why I had done this. Was it because this was fun? Because these actions were nothing more than a game to me?

I blended in with the crawling darkness that came as a natural result of simple physics—one would say that, but wasn't Arceus the one who had created the very existence of physics?—and it was laughable how easy the shadows—almost as if I was the darkness itself.

That wouldn't be completely wrong, I contemplated. After all, I am born from the shadows—and I am used to it. I have been soaked in nightmares for so long; it is natural that I merge with this darkness.

My thoughts were interrupted by an angry—not at me in particular, but rather at the unfairness of the world in general—voice, almost causing me to break away from my disguise in surprise, and I reprimanded myself for not concentrating hard enough.

"What are you doing here, Darkrai?" I looked up, spotting Cresselia gaze down at the cluster of shadows forming a soft blanket on a stray rock formation—one that was too dark and artificial and out of place for her not to notice. "I thought you despised even seeing me."

"I still do." That was my instantaneous reply, and I meant it with every fibre of my being. "Do you think that I am here to make peace and partake in simple chit-chat, my dear sister?"

Spitting the last three words out as if they were a kind of toxic bile burning away at my throat, a sphere of blazing, leaping flames—stained an inky black and churning beneath their compressed surface as if they were alive and had their very own will—rose out of my hands, as if a huge bubble of darkness had burst through my shadow-sheathed claws.

I cast my scarlet-hued gaze on her, hoping that my eyes sent as strong of a scorching burn as my attack had brought—and my body made a clean break from the puddle of darkness that I had stolen as my facade. "Are you not going to fight back?" I taunted. "Are you going to let me 'win' again? Because I can assure you that I have improved—there is no need to hold back."

"Of—of course not." I didn't miss the hesitant stumble in her voice, but Cresselia dared to attack this time—a Moonblast formed in front of her, and the rose-coloured orb of energy was flung at me, giving me little time to dodge or even defend.

Disgruntled, I settled for moving as far right as I could—the intent to defeat me in her eyes had blazed much brighter than before, and I now had to be careful when facing her in a match.

A laugh—it had been on pure instinct; I didn't know what compelled me to produce that rather soulless sound—erupted from my throat, and I felt the edge of the Moonblast's sphere skim across my side. I placed a claw to the wound—it would heal fast enough; besides, creatures like me didn't depend on blood—and managed a pained grin at her.

"I wonder what got into you," I uttered, determined not to show the agony that danced through my network of shadows like a spinning blade. "The last time I came, you seemed so reluctant—and now, what are you trying to do? Kill me?"

A low, feral growl interrupted my mindless taunts, and I looked up to see the Lunar Pokemon reach out with a shimmering blade of magenta energy—and, despite the wild look on her face, there were obvious remnants of tears that spilt down her face in rivulets of raw pain.

She glanced at me, ruby eyes glimmering and damp—and the words she spoke had a guttural edge to it, as if she'd given up on her kind, loving facade and didn't bother to mask each heaving crack in her voice.

"Have I ever tried to perform such a foolish act?" The broken question was nearly screamed in my face, and the choked-back sobs that was poured into each syllable was almost enough to make me feel sorry for my sister. "Why would I want to kill you when I am doing all this to get you back?"

Withdrawing any form of sympathy—I bring nightmares. I bring fear and terror to others; I'm not supposed to feel these emotions—I glared at her, countering her feeble move with a more powerful fist of darkness, the ink-swathed talon dispersing the light with a hiss and pinning her to the ground.

Shooting her a condescending look, I replied her question in a low voice. "Get me back?" I sneered, watching as the Pokemon started to wane under the force of the Shadow Claw. "What of me is there to even get back?"

Ignoring as she tried to opening her mouth—I knew her to well; it would be some crazed, desperate plea—I cut her off, scowling at her while keeping her trapped in the murky darkness of her own shadow—if one looked close enough, they could see the skeletal-like hands reaching out and chaining her limbs to the ground, but neither of us were paying much attention to that.

"I would appreciate it if you did not act as if you do not know what is going on." My voice stilled the creature, and I forced myself to look past the confusion in her scarlet eyes.

"Your actions have been doing something," I hissed. "Something that brings up rather confusing memories in my head. I have gotten some scenes that I do not quite understand nor recall in my mind—ones that seem like they would rather belong to an alternate me. It troubles me quite a bit—and it is annoying."

Through the thick haze of pain that hung over her irises—I could not believe that she was so willing to endure the torture of my shadows for such a long time—Cresselia managed to open her mouth ever-so-slightly, the words soft and mumbled—yet, they still contained some intangible happiness that forced a certain clearness into her voice.

"You...you can see the memories now?" That seemed to fill her with renewed energy—and, with a heave, she broke free of her makeshift prison, now staring at me with excitement in her eyes. "I...our plan is working, then. You do remember—"

"Quiet," I commanded. "Please do not act like such a child in front of me—in all honesty, does bother me. And, before you ask before, I cannot make sense of these memories. No matter what—no matter how I was before—I would like you to accept that this other me will not come back now."

My words—perhaps I been too harsh in my phrasing?—stunned the Legendary back into silence, and there was a long pause before I next spoke.

Rolling my eyes, my flaming gaze landed on her crestfallen expression—it was so poignant; she reminded me of a disappointed child and I hated it—I glared at her once again.

"It appears that my time is up," I sighed. "Arceus has only permitted me to speak with you for this period—I assure you that the conditions when we next meet will be much more severe. Next time, both Arceus and I will deal with you."

"Also..." I trailed off, scrutinising my sister with a gaze that couldn't be describe with a word other than patronising. "Do you really think you are worthy of the name 'Legendary' now?"

Without waiting for a response, I performed a tiny shake of my head—barely noticeable, if I may have added—and melted into the shadows once again.

༺༻

Cresselia

...Am I deserving of the title?

The thought floated through my head like a relentless plague that just wouldn't go away, Darkrai's scornful tone replaying itself over and over again as if I had set it on loop—and to say it irritated me would be an understatement for the hatred I felt towards the little scene.

I knew that it was just one sentence, but I couldn't help but be affected by it—and perhaps, it was because I believed his words; that we had gone against the very principles expected of us, and we were no longer suited to be called by the prestigious name.

Each letter seemed foreign now—and even when pulled together in a haphazard manner to form the word Legendary, it still seemed so far away—so untouchable—and unlike my previous self, I didn't feel sad about the loss in any particular way.

Contrary to popular belief, it felt refreshing to be more like a normal Pokemon for once. If I could make an analogy, I would compare the process to the shedding of a Metapod's skin—it felt as if it was a rejuvenating experience, like I was being reborn and a layer of my worries had jus t been peeled off.

I laughed to myself, a small sound amidst the great shadows—Darkrai's creations—that bounced off unseen walls and echoed twice, creating the illusion of another two creatures accompanying me—but I knew that was false. Why am I even thinking so much?

This was most definitely a dream—and that in itself was strange. I wove these strands of others' past into these fantasy-like experiences—and someone who manufactured these surreal visions wouldn't be able to get a dream, right?

Even if I set that strange fact aside—perhaps Arceus had deprived me of my powers; perhaps the Lord was trying to send me some kind of warning—this out-of-body experience chilled me to the bone.

I had been placed in an all-too-familiar setting, the details of the pitch-black void—as dusty and remote as I had remembered it to be—enough to stir up memories that I hadn't touched in a long time—memories that I thought had been fading from my grasp.

My breath hitched for a moment—I knew just what was about to come next. If this was a flashback and not a dream, then—

What seemed to be a smile—what was there to smile for now, however? Now, I didn't know, my reason to smile had become a nightmare— formed on my face, and I glanced at the figure across me, his ruby-coloured eyes lit up in a million shades of red.

The mirror seemed to beckon to me. I knew it was a mirror, and I could feel myself getting closer—getting closer to my dream—

Gasping, I rushed forward, a thousand thoughts and questions propelling me forward, like a whirlwind behind me that nudged me forward.

As I reached out, however, I realised that he wasn't there—he didn't even exist—Darkrai was an image reflected in the clear, dark surface of a mirror that separated the two of us, and the mirror was a lie. The mirror was a lie that had fooled me.

(But it was not supposed to turn out like this...he was supposed to come to me...so why—)

My wing brushed against the smooth glass, before I looked down, disappointed.

"Only an illusion," I mumbled, forcing myself to rip my gaze away from the reflection that kept staring at me with his unreadable red eyes. It felt painful.

And this time, I had embraced the absolute truth of this vision—and I looked away, ignoring the tears that now streamed down my cheeks. Arceus did know how to break me in the worst way—and I hated him for that.

In this dream—no, I would never even think of associating the word with such a monstrous creation—Darkrai was gone. The ghost in the mirror had disappeared, and there was no one to bring me along.

༺༻

Why can't I remember...?

My eyes blinked open, and the first thing that came to mind was the fact that my head was pounding, full of hazy, vague words that swam around—and I couldn't remember it.

...who was that again? Right...he was my brother, I think.

The few things I recalled were a dusty mirror, broken and faded from centuries of being neglected; some vague emotions—and I registered them as hope and sadness, contradicting waves of feelings that disrupted my inner balance, and one word: brother.

He'd helped me, right? He helped me before...and the basic knowledge of his information—as a Legendary and not as a brother—was already ingrained in my head.

How did he change again? I can't remember—my head's all fuzzy...

And it was then that I realised just what Arceus was planning to achieve—realised why the details that had once been so deeply etched into my head were now fading from my grasp.