Arms of Arceus

“I don’t know what to think,” Twilight Sparkle said as she paced the war room. “It’s like Dark Arceus had this whole scenario set up in advance, but it’s been imprisoned! How is that possible?”

“Maybe it’s just takin’ advantage of the situation?” Applejack said as she looked to the tank where their Frogadier prisoner now lived. His name was Edward, and he had turned out to be quite impressionable. They had ordered him not to leave his tank, and thus far he had obeyed out of respect for his new friends.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he said, his voice honest and pleading as if he were afraid of the ponies thinking him a liar. “All I know is what Korish told me, nothing more. I wish I could be of more help…”

“It’s alright,” Pinkie Pie said as she put a comforting hoof on the glass. “We believe you. It’s just that… things are hard now. From what we’ve learned about these Unown, it’s super duper bad that they’re working for the enemy.”

“They serve Arceus,” Twilight Sparkle said, thoughtfully. “They’re the god’s instruments of creation… but why would Dark Arceus need them?”

“Well, Pokémon do tend to fight for fun and… other reasons,” Rarity said as she casually fluffed her hair. “Why couldn’t these Unown be used for destruction?”

“Perhaps. That’s always been Dark Arceus’s goal, but what do we do about it? There are replicas of the Ruins of Alph popping up in every kingdom we inspect except Ashes, which is under attack by Lugia and Ho-oh! We can’t handle that many simultaneous battlefronts! There aren’t enough Pokémon in God’s Breath or the four zones!”

“Calm down, Sugarcube,” Applejack said, though she sounded nervous herself. “It’s gonna be alright… somehow.”

“Do any of you have good news? Because I could really use some if I’m gonna believe that.”

The ponies looked at one another, unsure of what to say. Then Applejack leapt from her chair, a smile on her face as she suddenly remembered something.

“I can’t believe I forgot it!” she said, excitedly as she ran over to their Doublade. They had laid their weapons against the wall when they entered the room, but now Applejack was calling hers to take part in the discussion.

“What did you forget AJ?” Twilight Sparkle asked as she watched her friend’s Doublade rise up and follow her to the large, stone table.

“Trevor talked to me earlier!”

“You got your Doublade to talk to you?” Fluttershy asked in surprise.

“Well, not really. He sorta just did it himself. When we was sneakin’ through Arcadia with the Eevee siblings, and we came across the Ruins of Alph in the underground tunnels there, he spoke.”

“You mean he spoke when you found the Ruins of Alph?” Rarity asked. “What did he say?”

“He said ‘That’s bad’. We jumped higher than a jackrabbit sittin’ on a cactus! Haven’t gotten a word outta him since.”

Twilight Sparkle called out to her Doublade and it floated obediently to her side. The others followed suit, and soon all of their Doublade were floating before them.

“These guys have cut through deamons and orks without so much as an appearance of personality,” Twilight Sparkle said, sadly. “We were entrusted with them so we could help them regain themselves…”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy getting through to them,” Rainbow Dash said, sadly.

“We’ll get through to you soon, Bambina!” Pinkie Pie said as she hugged her sheathed Doublade close.

“What I want to know is, why did Trevor say ‘That’s bad’?” Twilight Sparkle said. “I mean, it is bad but… could he know something we don’t?”

“Lucy said these blades hold the souls of her ancestors, who died fightin’ on the other side of the Black Gates,” Applejack said. “They were followin’ a council member, right? Are they still alive? Can we talk to ‘em?”

“No, you cannot,” came the cool voice of Mistress Mora as she slithered through the doorway alongside Mistress Cloe. The ponies leapt to their feet and ran over to greet the two elders.

“Where are the princesses?” Twilight Sparkle asked as she peered through the doorway past the Pokémon.

“They’re gone…” Mistress Cloe said, bitterly. “They fought Mewtwo within the enemy fortress. Destroyer’s Grace is a ruin because of it. All four of them have disappeared without a trace.”

“I’m sure they’re fine!” Rainbow Dash said, confidently. “Our princesses are strong! They’ll be back soon, with that traitor wrapped in chains.”

“Mewtwo is powerful, but I don’t believe he can stand up to the princesses for long. Not on his own…” Mistress Mora said, her voice sharp and tired as she waved her tail back and forth. “It’s where they might have gone that bothers me.”

“Perhaps they can bring him back,” Twilight Sparkle said, her voice cracking slightly from the stress of all her concerns. “We have a different problem, now.”

“The Ruins of Alph have appeared in kingdoms throughout the land,” Mistress Cloe said, as she passed balls of fire over the knuckles of her left paw nervously.

“You’ve already heard?”

“It’s all the palace guards can think about. I had to gripe out a captain to get him to focus enough to reestablish some discipline in the thoughts of his soldiers.”

“As for the one you wish to speak with, she hasn’t been seen for centuries,” Mistress Mora said. She bit her lip in thought and closed her eyes tightly. When she continued, her voice was strained and sorrowful.

“Cloe and I both served on the council with Feefee in our youth. There was a time when Moon Shrine was overrun and the Black Gates were taken by the enemy. We pushed them back, and Trickster and his wives retook their stronghold after a grueling, two front campaign. Feefee was a Milotic, leader of the water-types within the High Council, and mate of the titan Gyara. She led the counterstrike against the forces of destruction in the wastelands of the underworld. Fifty-thousand warriors followed her into battle, but only a few hundred made it back home.”

“And they brought our Doublade with them, didn’t they?” Rarity asked.

“They did. The weapons you possess were once the children of Grace and Starlight, council members who served and died in the generation before us. They followed Feefee through the Black Gates as her lieutenants. This was how they returned to us.”

“How do we get them to speak?” Twilight Sparkle asked. “Surely they must know something we don’t. Right?”

“They may know something, and they may not. As for how we might reach them… The words Trevor spoke to Applejack are the first words any of them have said in years.”

“Have they ever been taken into the Wastelands before?” Rarity asked, cautiously.

“No,” Mistress Cloe said, sternly. “They are sacred and highly honored within God’s Breath. Returning them to a place of such trauma would be cruel.”

“What if… and forgive me for seeming cruel, but… what if we take them into the Wastelands? We were given these Doublade so that we could help them remember who they are. The Wastelands could jar them back to… well, themselves. I know it’s traumatic, but it may be our only way of learning what they know.”

The elders thought it over, exchanging glances as they communicated telepathically.

“Tell us of the situation in Ashes, first,” Cloe said as she flipped her paw and crushed the fireballs she had been juggling. “We want to hear it from you directly. What do Lugia and Ho-oh look like?”

“Well, they aren’t shades for one,” Pinkie Pie said. “I’m the only pony that’s been to Ashes and seen them besides Trixie, and she’s stayed behind to fight the zombies and evil Pokémon shades. As for what they look like, well… they look like they do in the Pokédex, but with these nasty red collars on their necks. And their eyes glow red like the shades do, and they definitely don’t like jokes. But they do like making nasty weather, which makes comedy hard so maybe they do like jokes but they just couldn’t hear me over all the wind and volcanic eruptions?”

Pinkie Pie paused in thought as the others stared at her. After a moment, they left her to her inner dialogue and continued their conversation.

“There were six legends that originally helped King Siebold build God’s Breath, even before Ra and his family arrived. Father was one. Lugia and Ho-oh were among them, as well. The Red Chains are signs of enslavement, as well as its means. They do not serve Dark Arceus willingly.”

“Yet they serve,” said a soft, metallic voice from the Doublade on Applejack’s back. The group turned to look at the Pokémon, all except Pinkie Pie who still seemed to be arguing with herself. The blades lay across Applejack’s back, casting a shadow over her as they obscured her body underneath. On top of the Doublade lay the ghostly form of an Espeon, his tail moving softly back and forth as he looked at the group. He had several large tufts of fur sticking out of his coat, as if he didn’t groom often. On his neck was a red bandana with a golden Mew stitched into it.

“You’re Trevor?” Applejack said as she strained her neck to try and see him. The Doublade levitated off of her back and landed next to her, sword tips down. Trevor sat atop the hilts and looked the Earth Pony in the eyes curiously.

“I might have been Trevor once,” he said, calmly. “That is neither here, nor there. Now, I am a faithful instrument whose purpose is the protection of God’s Breath.”

“Your brothers and sisters…”

“Sleep,” Trevor interrupted.

“But you don’t. Why?”

“I saw the Dark One’s plans coming to fruition, and so I chose to act. My brothers and sisters have seen it, as well. They wish me to tell you that they’re prepared to fight. When this is over, we will return to our family to rest in the halls of our ancestors, until our strength is needed once more.”

“Trevor,” Mistress Cloe said, gently. “What do you know of Dark Arceus’ plan?”

“What little I know is what I heard while confronting The Mouthpiece alongside my commander. The god’s plan was initially meant for our world, but that changed when Lady Feefee reclaimed the Fields of Evening. With the Fields free, and our foothold in the Dream World regained, the god decided that destruction wasn’t enough. When Lady Feefee confronted the dark one’s mouthpiece, she made the claim that good existed everywhere; that the evil that drove the dark one was not the predominant force of creation. She used our world, and the bond between people and Pokémon, as examples. It was quite compelling, to a point where I believe Dark Arceus now wishes to prove her wrong.”

“But why bring us through all of this?” Rarity asked. “Why put us through such trouble? Why bring Equestria, Octaria, and Battleworld into this mix? I find it impossible to believe that there isn’t a reason behind all of this.”

“I do not know the answer.”

“What of the ruins and the towers, then?” Twilight Sparkle asked. “Why are they here?”

“Like the legends they are tied to, the Bell Tower and the Brass Tower are trophies of the dark god. The Ruins of Alph represent the growth and prosperity of the god’s armaments. So sayath she who places them. So sayath the Mouthpiece to Lady Feefee.”

“And who is this ‘Mouthpiece’?” Mistress Mora asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Her name was Korish.”

The group looked to one another as they each began connecting the pieces.

“Ya know,” Pinkie Pie said, suddenly breaking from her thoughts. “Lugia and Ho-oh might not have heard my jokes, but I know some of the zombies did because they laughed. That’s a win, right?”

Dorris sat with her legs crossed and her front paws held up before her in silent meditation. Around her sat four Alakazam, their sanity restored in the absence of the Hive Mind. One scratched his nose, another gave a little cough, but none of it affected their psychic trance. Their minds were connected, and together they looked out upon Battleworld. They saw the Ruins of Alph rising in various places across the massive planet, with thousands of Unown each. It was a truly terrifying sight. There were so many Unown all across the globe. The psychic circle counted them, each member making their own list. When they were done, they had agreed that one million Unown were currently arrayed across Battleworld.
We haven’t even seen all of the kingdoms yet, Dorris thought, gravely. She began pawing at her earrings again, a subconscious, nervous reaction.

The forces of Doom were beginning to take notice. Disguised by the power of the Unown, the Ruins had been built without detection. Even if they had been noticed earlier, the Unown were willing them into being before the Thors and Doom’s robotic sentries could possibly respond. The denizens of Battleworld aided Doom’s army, though the weaker kingdoms stood little chance as the Thors began to run low on manpower. The sheer numbers surrounding each ruin, both of Unown and the dark god’s undead shades, had grown to such an extend that they threatened the survival of the planet itself. It had happened over the course of two days, as far as Dorris and her Enclave could tell. Suzuki had discovered the first ruin on the evening of the first day. By the time God’s Breath had began to form their counterattack, the armies of Dark Arceus had already reached numbers in the millions. Yet Doom had not taken action himself.

“He believes his forces are sufficient to deal with this threat,” said Aristotle, one of the four Alakazam within the service of God’s Breath. His words were telepathic, sent directly to his mistress’s mind as he reacted to the free sharing of emotion within the psychic circle.

“He is a fool, then,” Dorris said, angrily. “Not that it matters now. The Unown shape reality according to the will of Arceus. They uphold its structure across all the universes made by the god. If Doom acts now, he might be able to save his world. Any longer, and the tide of evil will consume all he has made. Perhaps we should entreat him, afterall.”

“To tell him of his weakness would be a great risk,” said Socrates, another one of Dorris’s Alakazam. “His pride is such that he believes himself infallible. He would be more likely to attack us for questioning the powers he commands than to focus his full attentions on the true threat.”
“Perhaps his power gives him good reason for his arrogance, but to underestimate the Unown is idiocy.”

The circle fell silent, their agreement given through emotion rather than words. Doom was powerful, but he knew nothing of Dark Arceus, whereas the evil one’s shades had surely gained much information about Battleworld and its inhabitants already. Dorris had gained a great deal of knowledge herself, and the forces of destruction had many more resources than she did. Their Alakazam were ancient and immortal, and their psychics were no less effective than the ones she commanded. She was beginning to question the city’s chances for survival.

“Our valor keeps us alive,” said Plato, Dorris’ third Alakazam, in response to her feelings of doubt.

“Our righteousness grants us a path to victory,” Dorris intoned automatically. It was an ancient saying, one that the Mew had supposedly invented to inspire them as they waged war against Dark Arceus. King Siebold had made it the primary catechism of his armies. Dorris imagined that this gave some credence to the myth of its origin, though the late king had never paid it any service.

“You’re mind is unfocused, mistress,” Augustus said, his voice barely a whisper.

Dorris sighed and rubbed her temples. The pain in her head had been building over the past few weeks. Headaches were rare for her, but the serious ones always had a reason behind them.

“I know,” she told the old Alakazam. “Something is bugging me. Perhaps it’s because we can’t see the…”

She paused, her eyes opened wide in sudden shock, though they no longer saw. She no longer heard her Enclave speaking to her, whether it be through mind or through mouth. Nor could she feel her body. She was broken from the psychic link with her subordinates as her mind’s eye was dragged to face visions of another reality.

She saw a scarred, bloody hand. An ancient, gnarled bird’s talon. A rotten, bloated fist. A long, wet, slithering tentacle. They pulled at a massive, golden chain, dragging themselves closer and closer to Dorris as she watched in horror. Behind them was a blood-red backdrop filled with spite and the half-seen images of hateful abominations that defied existence. She heard two voices echo from behind the daemonic appendages; one was made from the chittering cry of trillions of hungry mouths that scraped at her mind as she listened. The other was the brutal, bellowing war cry of utter destruction. The voices fought each other, struggling to overpower one another while gaining in ferocity with each passing second.

The daemonic appendages were so close now they could almost reach out and grab her. She knew that if they caught her, she would be torn apart. She screamed as they reached for her… and then she was back.

“Mistress,” Plato called loudly as he held her. The Meowstic looked up, her senses slowly returning, to see her Alakazam standing around her fearfully. The Pokémon sighed in relief as they saw her coming to, and she smiled weakly in appreciation of their concern, despite the horrible vision replaying in her head.

“What did you see, mistress?” Aristotle said, guessing at her condition.

“The future.”