Chapter Text
It was all falling apart.
All this time, all this effort, creating and managing Team Galactic, forging the Red Chain, only for it to shatter when he was finally, achingly close to the realisation of his perfect world.
Cyrus felt like he should be angry. He felt like, if anyone else was in his position, they would snap, they would rant. Perhaps they would command pokemon already exhausted from battle to attack those who had stopped him, Lucas, Cynthia, or even turn on their own Commanders who had failed to stop them from getting to this point.
But Cyrus didn’t feel like doing any of that. No, even with the legendary pokemon of time and space loose and angry and his plan in tatters, Cyrus didn’t feel anything at all, except perhaps a distinct, unnatural chill that was beginning to unfurl in the already chill winter air.
Cyrus was not ignorant. He had done his research before attempting this. And he knew that this was a distinct possibility going in. He hadn’t told his commanders, or anyone, this, but in the event he failed, in the event he could not realise his perfect world, he had intended to live in no world, and let the vengeance of the legendaries take its course. After all, if he could stand the world as it was, he would not be doing this. And at this point, he saw nothing else for him but the death that was promised to those who tried to command Legends and failed.
The chill hardened, all at once, and the floor of Spear Pillar before him dissolved into shadows so thick Cyrus was sure he could touch them, falling away in a cascade into a world that was neither real nor right. Behind him, his commanders and enemies alike stumbled back, allowing their deep seated fear of the unknown and unreal to get the better of them.
Cyrus simply stood and watched.
From further away it would look like the shadow and the god that emerged from it were one and the same, and perhaps they were, but from so close up Cyrus could see the beast as it approached, soaring through its world and rising with a spray of shadow into his, throwing out great wings that threatened to usurp even the sun. Cyrus did not doubt its ability to do so. He did, perhaps, wonder why it did not try it.
Everything was still for a moment as the shadowed, dripping form of Giratina hung in the air, glittering red eyes meeting his, before gravity seemingly caught it, and it tucked its wings in and dove towards him.
In the single moment before Cyrus was consumed by shadows, he noticed a few things. One was that, just before impact, Giratina closed its eyes, anticipating the hit. Another was that someone behind him screamed. Mars, probably. And the last was that, even a little to his own surprise, Cyrus was not afraid.
And then there was a great impact, knocking him through the floor, and everything went black.
Cyrus was not, crucially, unconscious though.
He hung, suspended in liquid shadow, buffeted a little by the residual currents of Giratina passing by. He could not breathe, but for whatever reason his body did not complain at this fact. The shadow was cold, but compared to the chill atop mt.Coronet it felt almost warm.
Cyrus was, in all honesty, very confused. He felt strange, disoriented, sure, but he had been expecting to be dead and so this unknown outcome was nothing short of bizarre. He felt like he should be scared, and maybe he was, but there was something in the shadows that seemed to suppress it, somehow.
Giratina was gone. And he was all alone.
The shadows were turning colder, and his vision, despite the fact it was swamped with darkness anyway, began to fade as he felt himself begin to sink, the shadows feeling less like mud and beginning to run like a river.
Despite this, there was a certain peace in the whole situation, slowly fading away as he sank.
And then, suddenly, his lungs remembered he needed to breathe, and, despite himself, he drew in a deep, shuddering breath.
And inhaled water.
Cyrus’ eyes snapped open as his body was shook by what was meant to be coughs but that only drew more water into his lungs. He could see now, and the water, not shadow, seemed rough as he found himself near the surface. Everything hurt and he was drowning and the chill of the air against the soaking skin that occasionally broke the surface was like fire and his body was a tangled mess and suddenly the darkening of his vision was no longer quite so peaceful as instinct forced him to struggle and cough and reach for air he just wasn’t getting.
If he weren’t drowning, he would’ve heard a cry of shock from the water’s edge. It was so dark now, and he felt himself beginning to sink again, even the horrible pain of it all beginning to be masked by unconsciousness, and he wouldn’t have noticed the hands grabbing him by the back of the vest and dragging him from the ocean if it weren’t for the fact that the moment he hit air he began to cough once again, water streaming from his mouth and nose, finally, finally able to escape.
Cyrus could do nothing as he was dragged, coughing and gagging, onto sand, and he half rolled over, propping himself up with his hands, as, unpleasantly, full consciousness returned to him and the remainder of the water that had promised to kill him managed to drain from his lungs. He shook all over, in equal parts from adrenaline and the cold wind that cut ever colder with the help of his sodden clothes.
Cyrus allowed himself to roll onto his back, ignoring the sand that stuck to his forearms and tangled in his hair, panting.
He had survived.
That was not the plan.
The sky was empty and quiet, and suddenly something occurred to Cyrus. He sat up despite his fatigue and looked out over the ocean that was laid out before him in this little cove. There were no boats, but a little jetty did indicate human activity in this area. That was fine though, he had sought a world without human spirit, not humans themselves. This could- this could still be-
“E- excuse me! Are you quite alright?”
… nevermind.
Cyrus turned and found himself facing a man with a face contorted in an almost cartoonish expression of concern. He wasn’t tall, taller than Cyrus perhaps but that was hardly an achievement, and wore a long lab coat with enough layers beneath it that Cyrus would have guessed he was destined for the summit of mt.Coronet in mid winter. He even wore a bobble hat. He was soaked up to his knees, boots distinctly waterlogged, and based on the wet sleeves, and lack of anyone else in the area, Cyrus had to guess he was the one to save him.
He… didn’t really know how he felt about that.
“Sir? Please, how are you?”
Right. He supposed he ought to at least speak to this man.
“I… am fine.” He lied in a practised manner, and went to stand up, but found himself being stopped by the man, who held out his hands.
“Wait! Wait stop, I- I don’t think you should stand up yet, it would probably be bad for you! I mean, you’re still shaking!”
Cyrus glanced at his hand. He supposed he was. Not that it really mattered to him but.. It wasn’t like he had anywhere to go. He didn’t even know where he was. The man’s accent was very distinctly Galarian, but the mountain that rose up behind him was far too familiar for this to be anywhere in Galar.
“...Where is this?” He chanced, glancing at the man, who seemed surprised.
“Why- this is Hisui! Please do not tell me you’ve hit your head- or are you from a shipwreck? Oh, my there could be more people out there-”
“No- no, I was not shipwrecked.” Cyrus said with a strained sigh.
“Oh that is a relief.” The man said with a far more relieved sigh. With that possibility eliminated, his attention was back on Cyrus. “I am professor Laventon, a pokemon professor! Do you have a name? I mean, you must, but… I suppose the correct question would be whether you would like to share it.”
Cyrus was beginning to find Laventon grating, and would have simply tuned out and left if it weren’t for the fact that his name was very, very familiar. Where had he heard it before? Distortion, in that vein, where had he heard the name Hisui before? His mind still swam much like he hadn’t, and there was a certain level of dizziness and sickness he couldn’t quite shake. He must’ve been frowning, because Laventon prompted him again.
“Is something the matter?”
Cyrus was fairly sure that the answer to that should be obvious, considering Laventon had just dragged him, drowning, from the ocean.
“Cyrus.” He said, flatly.
“Pardon?”
“My name is Cyrus.” He repeated, trying not to let his tone get too strained. He liked to be polite where he could, but really did not like being questioned like this. However, giving Laventon his name would establish a few things, and at the very least stop him from asking. His uniform had not been recognised, and while Laventon raised an eyebrow at his name, Cyrus got the distinct feeling it was not because he recognised it.
“Well, Cyrus, it is wonderful to meet you! We are very close to Jubilife, stay right there, I’ll fetch some members of the Medical Corps to check you over!”
There was a lot in that statement which raised questions, but Cyrus decided to focus on the one he understood the best.
“Jubilife?”
“Why, yes! Have you heard of it? It is a fairly new settlement, the Galaxy Team has been fortifying it as of late. It is quite safe inside, I assure you!”
Cyrus had little to say about that. He was no historian, but he knew his roots. Jubilife Village, founded by the original Galaxy Team in a time before Sinnoh had a name. He glanced at the mountain which he knew had been all too familiar as Laventon jogged away down a path he hadn’t noticed until now. It was Mt.Coronet, of course it was. He glanced from its summit, to the ocean, and back again, before his eyes trained higher. He had to squint, the sky bright, and he frowned at the sight that greeted him above the mountain. It was like a hole in reality, a hole far too similar to one that had been sat yawning before him just moments before he was cast into the ocean.
His eyes fell back below the horizon. Looking too hard at that thing made him feel sicker, and quite simply it was not his problem. His problem was, apparently, being stranded in the past rather than six feet under. He drew legs that still shook under himself and stood up, stumbling a little as he did so. His dizziness caught up with him all at once, and his vision stuttered and darkened once again.
Vaguely, he remembered a first aid class he had been forced to take as a child, the foggy, half buried information floating up. If you survived drowning, but didn’t receive the right first aid in time…
Cyrus stumbled, shaking harder again, almost unable to see.
…Then you could drown on dry land.
Sinnoh really had it out for him, didn’t it? He found himself wishing, as his legs gave out and he fell unconscious yet again, that it would take its revenge in a more straightforward manner.
This time it didn’t all fade to black. No. It faded to gold.
Cyrus found himself standing in a long room filled with golden light. At first dazzling, it began to wane as his eyes adjusted, although he still found himself having to squint. The room was lined with pillars, the same style as many classical buildings dedicated to the Sinnoh gods and, Cyrus couldn’t help but note, the same style as in Spear Pillar, although these were in much better shape. Cyrus shifted, raising a hand to shield his eyes. The light came from behind him, accompanied by a great, difficult to ignore presence, but Cyrus refused to let the very deliberate pull to see just what was behind him rush him as he got to grips with his surroundings. He was not shaking, or even wet anymore, that was the main thing he was caught up on, and the door at the entrance of the room, which he was looking at, was ajar, although there was nothing beyond it but shadow.
“Greetings, Cyrus.”
The words were not spoken aloud, but echoed throughout the chamber all the same, and Cyrus couldn’t help but tense when he heard them. Cautiously, he turned, squinting against the source of the light. It was a pokemon, its whole form blindingly radiant, so much so that he could hardly even look in its direction. Cyrus got the distinct impression, although he wasn’t sure how with the fact his eyes were practically shut against its light, of a set of legs folded neatly beneath a stantler-like body. The light began to dim a little, as if the pokemon, if that was even the right term, wanted this whole meeting to be easier on his eyes.
“You must be wondering why I hath brought you here.”
Cyrus thought that was pretty obvious. What did gods summon people for if not to talk at them for a while? Perhaps bestow some divine purpose, but Cyrus was fairly sure that he was not the first choice for that, given the, at the very best, heretical nature of what he had just been doing. And if Arceus wanted to kill him, and it could only be Arceus, no other pokemon could have a presence quite like this, then he would have been dead a long, long time ago. Vaguely, Cyrus got the impression Arceus was laughing. He felt his jaw clench.
“You art correct on all points.”, Arceus intoned, a note of humour in its voice, as it began to draw up its legs beneath it, standing. It had been large before, but, armoured legs scraping on stone as it adjusted its stature a little, it towered over him now. “Except one. Thine arrival in Hisui was not an accident. And thy use to me is not drowned out by thine heresy.”
Cyrus swallowed, hard. Something about this, about being used simply as a pawn by a god that, too, was dragged down by spirit, it made him uncharacteristically angry. But it wasn’t just that. He had almost drowned, twice, and for all he knew in whatever plane of existence his body currently was, he was dead. And for it to all be engineered? It was no secret he held no love for Arceus or any it had raised as god. Just what did it think it was doing?
“My use?” He managed, jaw beginning to ache from how hard it was clenched.
“Indeed.” Arceus responded, watching him with careful eyes, just visible through the haze of light. “Do you truly believe you would be here if not for my wishes?”
“Is that… A threat?”
“Oh, how you wish it was.”
Cyrus hated that it was right.
“I have no intentions of helping you. I'm not following some divine plan.” He said, simply, folding his arms behind his back. Arceus tilted its head, ever so slightly. Its eyes narrowed, not in anger, but, infinitely worse, amusement.
“Oh, Cyrus.”
Arceus took a single step closer to him, lowering its head so that it could look him in the eye.
Cyrus found himself shaking again, something like tears but far too thick threatening to breach his eyes just from the proximity to what had to be only a fraction of this being.
“That is what I am counting on.”
Cyrus woke up in a warm bed in a cold room. He kept his eyes closed, partially because he needed a moment to process that before proceeding with his life, and partially because he could hear voices, and did not want to speak to their owners. The need to keep up the charade of sleep intensified when he caught his name, and he tried hard to suppress the subtle shaking of his limbs which he was sure he had not had while unconscious.
“-Cyrus? Really?” came an unfamiliar, sceptical voice.
“Yes, that’s the name he gave me, anyway! And we have no reason to think he is lying.” this voice he recognised. How couldn’t he? He was sure Laventon, with his bobble hat and his hapless demeanour, stuck out like a sore thumb at the best of times, and his voice, posh Galarian accent and all, was no exception.
“It’s just he’s- it’s too strange to be a coincidence! He must be pulling something!” A different voice, in a tone Cyrus would’ve hated even if its owner was not suggesting Cyrus was somehow deceiving them. He was hardly someone trustworthy, but he simply hadn’t had time to do anything unsavoury, unless he’d somehow committed a crime in his sleep, which he doubted.
“I don’t see how it’s so strange. Yes, the resemblance is certainly something of note, but blue hair is hardly uncommon, I mean look at Wardens Melli and Iscan! You aren’t saying they’re lying about who they are, are you?”
“Of course not, professor it’s just- It’s not just his hair, but his face- I mean, it’s uncanny!”
What in Sinnoh’s name were these people talking about? He cracked an eye open, hoping that the movement would be subtle enough not to attract attention, and he was right, the little group across the room continuing as if nothing had happened. It was Laventon alright, alongside a few people dressed in pale pink and white uniforms that he didn’t recognise.
“I don’t see the issue, perhaps they are simply related!” Laventon persisted, smiling away as, apparently, he liked to do. “They could be siblings- or even twins!”
If he wasn’t trying not to attract attention to himself, Cyrus would’ve made some kind of noise of disapproval. He had no siblings, let alone a twin. Who in Sinnoh could they be talking about who resembled him that much? Honestly, from what he had gathered of the Professor, he was in half a mind that they were all simply mistaken. Or plain stupid. Perhaps both.
“Wouldn’t you know if Captain Cyllene had any relatives?” One of the people asked, and Laventon laughed, a tad awkwardly. Cyrus frowned. He recognised that name.
“I don’t actually know much about her- She could have a hundred siblings and I wouldn’t know!”
“I do not.” came a new voice, clipped and full of authority. “Don’t you all have important work to do? I would suggest you do that instead of standing around to gossip.” Cyrus could not see the voice’s owner from his own position on his bed, but he was sure it was this Captain Cyllene. He racked his brain as the pink and white uniformed people, her subordinates, likely, stumbled through apologies and began to return to work. Cyllene… Cyllene... He recognised the name, not just because of how similar it was to his own. She had been involved in the original Galaxy Team, but his knowledge of her ended there. The records of this time were not great, and while she was frequently referenced in various positions of authority, nothing too specific about her remained. No photos, no descriptions, although based off the conversation he had just heard she bore what he was sure was just a passing resemblance to him, just references to a past in swordfighting and her competence as a leader. He respected it, really. From what he had read, she was an admirable woman, if critically misguided like the rest of the Galaxy Team.
He was shaken from his thoughts by a voice beside him.
“Captain! Professor! He’s awake!”
Cyrus’ gaze settled on the person standing beside him, a woman with purple-pink hair in that same uniform, and he sighed, letting his face settle into an expression of annoyance, briefly closing his eyes as he sat up, ignoring the migraine he could feel developing and the tight feeling in his chest, before opening his eyes and making eye contact with a woman who looked, for lack of a more accurate term, exactly like him.
Of course that was an exaggeration. Even he had to admit they bore a certain similarity, perhaps, iIf he was feeling dramatic, which he was not, he would draw mental comparisons to various members of his family; his grandmother perhaps, or even his own mother.
Of course, he wasn’t thinking that. That would be ridiculous. There was no way she had anything to do with him besides their shared authority within an iteration of Team Galactic.
Besides, there was plenty about her that was different. Her height- standing up he could’ve gotten a better estimate but she was certainly taller than him, and her hair, neatly parted out of her face rather than allowed to do as it pleased as long as it didn’t get in his way, and… and….
….
Beside her was Laventon, who smiled down at him as Cyrus glanced between them. Cyrus really didn’t feel like this was the kind of situation that warranted smiling, but when did he think that?
“Mr. Cyrus!” Laventon began. Did he think Cyrus was a surname? “How are you feeling?”
Cyrus thought that question was redundant. He had nearly drowned. Twice. Naturally, he felt like shit.
So as to not outright insult Laventon, especially in front of one of the higher ups of the organisation that had given him medical care, Cyrus did not respond, allowing his less than impressed expression to do the talking for him. Laventon laughed, awkwardly.
“I suppose that is to be expected… ah… Oh! Captain Cyllene, this is the man I was telling you about, who I pulled from the sea!”
Cyllene did not respond at first, opting to instead look Cyrus over. He could not read her expression beyond the fact it was very serious and her gaze piercing. In all honesty, it made him a little uncomfortable. A part of him, irrationally, worried she knew what he had done, and was simply finding the right words to let Laventon know that he had saved the life of a terrorist.
Of course, she did not do this. In fact, after a moment of silence, she nodded to herself, and turned to Laventon.
“Hm. I will grant your request. We will speak with Kamado about it later.”
Laventon grinned.
“Wonderful! You hear that, my boy?” He said, turning to Cyrus, who was biting back a comment about being called ‘my boy’. “You can stay here as part of the Galaxy Team!”
“It will not be easy, and you will have to work for bread and board, but I expect it would be preferable to freezing to death outside of the Village.” Cyllene added, her expression level.
Cyrus was silent for a moment. He had never asked to stay. He had never even intended to be here. Who did they think they were, to make this kind of decision for him, to assume they knew what he wanted, or worse, what was best for him. He watched their expressions for a moment, Laventon joyful, expectant, infuriating, Cyllene calm, level, and impenetrable. He wanted to refuse. He wanted to tell them that he wanted no part of it, that he had failed in what he did want, and that he intended to die for his crimes, even if not because he really wanted to at this point, but to spite that smug god who sat above and thought it could have him do its bidding. He wanted anger, and he got it, but all that managed to come out of his mouth was a single word.
“What.”