“Heralds are those chosen by the gods to enact their will. They go by many names – Saint, Prophet, Exarch, and more.”
“We had a Prophet,” Zarius stated as they continued to go around the stone path leading around the courtyard which would eventually lead to the center ring. The Ghost Type Pokémon seemed to want nothing to do with him, which he presumed was due to the earlier use of Legend Mode scaring them off.
“Prophet in name, perhaps…I did not sense any who had been specifically sought out by the gods.”
“Why choose him then?” Lucien asked.
Yeah, why choose me? Not that I’m ungrateful, Zarius added in his thoughts.
“You were willing to and did give your life to service of the gods. Without hesitation – minus your body’s instinct to live, which is nigh impossible to overcome. That, combined with your willingness to serve, and your physique which I knew would be capable of hosting my power…those are all reasons. It just so happened that my fight with Xerneas occurred in the skies over the Crescent Peaks.”
“In other words, random chance,” Lucien said.
Zarius felt like the air had been sucked out of his body. For a moment he felt hollow. “Random chance?” he asked solemnly. “Not because of my devotion?” A whole life of servitude…and it was just chance?
“…Correct.” Yveltal’s voice was firm, but there was an underpinning of sympathy. “Perhaps it was Arceus’ will. Maybe another god’s meddling. Cresselia’s mountain is nearby – so maybe she had something to do with the selection; she has been known to meddle in fate.” The tone softened, “Regardless, we are now becoming one. The past matters not in this instance.”
It was a crescent moon that was almost closed on that night, Zarius thought as he turned down a path leading right and to the center of the graveyard. Maybe…maybe the goddess of dreams and fate had a hand in it. It was a beautiful moon.
An area where the sarcophagi above ground ceased, and instead large, stone tombs and mausoleums were spaced out. All sealed with gates. Down the path, at the very center of the graveyard, was the glittering, gold and silver tree with bright, fluttering green leaves – a beacon in the dreary darkness.
Lucien nudged Zarius, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You were Chosen, in the end. Who cares how it happened. Intended or not.” He began padding just ahead of Zarius down the path.
“Heralds can tap into the domains of the god who has chosen them – for example, a herald of Xerneas could perform miraculous feats of healing or bringing the dead to life. A herald of Jirachi could grant minor wishes. Blessed are just those who have interacted with a god. The most common is taking pilgrimage to a holy site and doing something worthy of recognition.”
I’m the best out of the three types, then, Zarius thought, feeling the still-lingering pang of pain from being chosen by chance rather than due to his zealotry.
“Yes,” Yveltal said cooly. “And despite our meeting being based upon chance…I do think Cresselia had something to do with it. You and I, we, have been getting along famously.”
That brought a rapturous joy to Zarius that dashed away all doubts and fears about the circumstances of how he got here. A god, in his body and mind, was praising him for how well they worked together. He couldn’t help but smile, beaming, as he strode down the path after Lucien.
“What was the name of the crypt we needed to find for the Quest?” Lucien asked.
Zarius reached into his belt pouch and pulled out the Quest slip. “Mobley,” he muttered as he began looking around for a crypt with that name across the top.
“We should get to the tree, first. Have a word with the Shaymin protector.”
Zarius sheathed his blade and walked toward the very center of the graveyard. The gold bark and silver branches of the tree above him spread out in a spiraling canopy that was quite gorgeous – completely beating back the gloom of the Ghost Type environment that turned day to dull dusk. Glimmering, crystalline, almost gem-like seeds hung down from small bits.
Lucien walked up next to Zarius and sat on his haunches, nudging the Trainer’s leg as Zarius reached down and gave him head scritches. “Hello?” Zarius asked.
The center of the tree parted and a small, bush-topped, white-furred little quadrupedal Pokémon with a pink flower on its head came out of the small hollow that had formed. It did not speak in cries carrying its name, but spoke in the common tongue, catching Zarius by surprise for a second. Its high-pitched voice was piercing, and both he and Lucien flattened their ears due to the intensity.
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“A Trainer. Welcome to the Apricorn Tree outside of Dendemille!” The Shaymin waddled forward and sniffed around the two. “No other Apricorns? This your first?”
“Yes,” Zarius stated.
“Ah! Then you are going to get the new Trainer special!” The Shaymin went over to the tree and began walking up the side of it. “Do you know much about Apricorns already?”
“Nothing,” Lucien replied.
“I am aware that they are a pocket dimension; a miniature, customizable world to the Pokémon who is bound to it.”
The Shaymin stopped still, and its head craned backward. “I…I’m sorry. Who was that?”
“Yveltal,” they said together.
The Shaymin’s little, happy face turned to one of fear, and they hustled up the tree to the branches, reaching down with phantasmal, silver vines from their back to gently pick two Apricorns. They were each the size of Zarius’ palm, and as they were plucked, they lost their lustrous glow, instead becoming dull gemstones. The Shaymin then waddled down the tree and bowed before Zarius. “Apologies, greater god of Death and Dark. I did not recognize you.”
“That was intentional,” they said. “Now, explain the Apricorns.”
The Shaymin’s phantasmal vines deposited the two objects into Zarius’ right hand. They were smooth and were less weight than Zarius had expected. “Well, you are correct. Palkia worked alongside us to bless these trees. Only Trainers may use them, and only on Bound Pokémon. One per Pokémon, though it resets when the Bound Pokémon dies. It creates a paradise, suited to the whims of the individual.” The Shaymin looked at Lucien and smiled a slightly exasperated smile. “You, for instance, would have-”
“Plenty to fight, and lots of Eevees to chase for mating,” Lucien said with a toothy grin.
“R-right,” the Shaymin looked to Zarius. “New Trainers get two – one for their Bound Pokémon, and another for a second one. But, it is important to note, you can only get one Apricorn from any future trees. We Shaymin know how many a person is holding…and despite…Yveltal’s presence and ability to command us…the order must be maintained.”
“I agree. Order must persist,” they replied. “Thanks for the information,” Zarius said as he found the small bandolier with the potions and elixirs the perfect size to slot the Apricorns. “How do I Bind other Companions?”
“Lots of ways!” The Shaymin replied with enthusiasm, losing the slight fear and obeisance and instead reverting to a peppy, excited nature. “Blood Bonds are the most common, but they generally require mutual respect. Otherwise, you need to impress the Pokémon. Beating them in combat is common, but sometimes it is doing something that they see as proper or honorable. Oh, it also takes a few seconds for your Companion to go into the Apricorn, and they can also refuse to exit it if they want – but coming out is nearly-instant.”
“Right, thanks,” Zarius stated.
“No problem! And…sorry…for not recognizing your aura.”
“Apology accepted,” they said.
The Shaymin waddled back to the tree and entered the small hole that rapidly sealed up behind it.
Zarius looked down at Lucien, “Want to check out the Apricorn?”
“Not until we are clear of the graveyard,” Lucien said confidently. “I am not leaving you alone in a dangerous place like this.”
“Touching,” Yveltal stated.
Zarius began circling the center of the graveyard with Lucien until he found the appropriate sepulcher. Using the key, he entered the stone building. It was not very deep or wide – just lots of cubby holes with slots for jars. Dozens of jars. Zarius knelt, grabbed the wrapped-up jar, and placed it into one of the cubbies. “And there we go, put to rest.” He grabbed the pack and slung it onto his back. “Ready to head out?” he asked, glancing down at Lucien.
“Yes, let us depart. I want to see you to safety, then experience this personal paradise.” Lucien cracked a smile, “You had your fun with a mate, I get mine.”
“Fair enough,” Zarius replied with a grin as he shut the gate to the building behind him. And as he turned to leave the graveyard, he smelled something new. Burning grass. Spinning around, his hand went to his sword and he drew the Claw of Yveltal as his eyes sought the source of the smell. “Something is here,” he muttered.
Lucien lowered into an attack stance and also sniffed, “I do not smell anything save for the scent of burnt grass…and…hmm…metal?”
Zarius closed his eyes and sniffed several times, detecting the fain smell of iron. Keeping his eyes closed, he slowly followed the smell as he paced back toward the tree. A burst of heat manifested in front of him, and he snapped his eyes open as he held the blade up.
A pillar of fire stood before him. Purple and black flames that cascaded into the sky. An armored figure stepped out of the ghostly flames – a sleek, purple helmet, greaves, and bracers on a lithe figure. Instead of hands, projections of flaming, whisps of swords extended from each limb. The humanoid figure pointed at him, blading its stance, and its yellow, piercing eye settled on Zarius’ and met him.
“Challenge,” it whispered, its voice emanating from beneath a spectral-blue helm.
Lucien looked up at Zarius, “I think it wants to fight you one on one.”
“I agree. This type of Ghost Pokémon is familiar to me. A great swordsman of the past who died – but his armor experienced such combat and is seeped in life essence drawn from blood. It manifested a consciousness. If I recall correctly, it is named-”
“Ceruledge,” the voice whispered out. “Challenge…Prove worth…”
“It must sense that we are capable of harvesting life essence. Congratulations, it looks like we have found our second Pokémon…once we defeat it. Lucien, stand aside.”
Lucien backed away, “No Helping Hand? Sand Attack?”
“No,” Zarius replied as he activated Double Team with every remaining use of the Move he had, feeling his form vibrate as the evasive boost enhanced his form. “I accept your challenge,” he said to the Ceruledge as he took up a combat stance; sword extended forward. The Claw of Yveltal pulsed with vibrant crimson as the black shadows of Dark energy coruscated down the blade, following Zarius’ will to change the damage type.
“Hyah!” The Pokémon lunged forward.