Chapter Text
In the vibrant world of Pokémon, where lush forests, towering mountains, and sparkling oceans stretch as far as the eye can see, each region holds its own unique culture and a myriad of Pokémon species waiting to be discovered. Each Pokémon, from the fiery Charmander to the gentle Bulbasaur, possesses unique abilities that reflect their personalities and habitats. People known as Pokémon trainers embark on thrilling journeys to discover and capture these extraordinary creatures, however, a trainer's bond with their Pokémon can transcend mere ownership. They can become partners, friends, and even become like family.
Yet, in the bustling city of Alto Mare, a unique encounter was about to unfold—one that would challenge the bond between a Pokémon and trainer to an extent never before achieved.
***
Alto Mare was a breathtaking metropolis that seemed to float atop the sea, a maze of ancient canals weaving through elegant structures. The buildings, each one a masterpiece of brickwork, rose majestically from the water's edge, and bridges arched gracefully from one bank to the next.
But as the stars began to pierce the velvet sky, and the residents of Alto Mare drifted into the embrace of sleep, there was one figure that stood out in stark contrast to the serene scene—a creature that seemed to be carved from the very fabric of a moonless night. Darkrai lurked in the shadows, its dark form barely discernible from the inky pockets of the alleyways.
Darkrai, also known as the "Pitch Black Pokémon", was a strikingly mysterious and somewhat unsettling figure, characterized by an almost skeletal grace and an aura of perpetual twilight. He possesses a lean, humanoid frame, predominantly an inky, absolute black that seems to absorb all light around him. His figure was distinctively hourglass-like, with a slender, almost fragile waist that broadened gracefully at the shoulders and hips, giving him an elegant yet attenuated appearance.
His arms were remarkably thin and elongated, contributing to an impression of agility and a shadow-like swiftness. Each of his large hands culminated in three sharp, clawed digits, suggesting a capacity for precise manipulation or a more defensive or aggressive nature. What appeared to be a tattered, cloak-like garment was not merely worn but seems to be an extension of his own shadowy form, flowing and shifting around him, giving him a constantly moving, indistinct silhouette.
Around what would appear to be his face, he sported a stark and alarming red spiky collar. This collar was prominent and sharp, acting as a clear warning or a symbolic defense, a vivid splash of danger against his otherwise dark form. From his head erupted a large, white plume of fog-like hair. This ethereal plume is voluminous and appears to constantly undulate, reminiscent of swirling mist or vapor. Only his left eye is fully visible, his right eye completely obscured by the voluminous white fog-like plume, adding an immense layer of mystery and an unsettling asymmetry. His visible eye was a piercing, luminous blue that cut through the darkness of his form, suggesting a deep, watchful intelligence, perhaps even a hint of sorrow or ancient wisdom.
This Pokémon, often whispered about in hushed tones, was known for his ability to manipulate the fabric of nightmares and feed on them. His nature was not one of malice but rather a cycle of existence that had been misunderstood by those who feared the dark. For Darkrai, nightmares were the sustenance that fueled his being, and he could no more change this fact than any other living being can forgo their own sustenance.
And this night in Alto Mare, there was a disturbance, a nightmare so intense that it had drawn Darkrai, the potent aura of fear and anguish a feast for him. Darkrai's single visible blue eye glowed with a predatory hunger as he moved through the back alleyways of Alto Mare, and as he approached the source, the air grew thick with an energy that was undeniably Pokémon in nature, and judging by its potency, it was probably a Legendary.
As Darkrai arrived at a bend in the alley he instinctively knew that the wall that stood before him was a mere trifle, a human constructed illusion that meant nothing to one who could weave through the fabric of night. He reached out a clawed hand, his fingertips brushed the illusion, the bricks rippling like water, and when Darkrai fully passed through it, he found himself in the hidden garden beyond.
A mighty wall surrounded the garden, obviously not merely for aesthetic purposes but a barrier that held a silent vigil over the secret sanctum it enclosed. It was high and thick, constructed from the same ancient bricks that made up the city's foundation, each one undoubtedly a silent witness to the countless tales of joy and sorrow that had unfolded within this garden.
It was a serene oasis nestled within the urban sprawl, the moon casting long, silvery shadows across the tiered landscape, and the gentle trickle of water from the fountains filled the air with a soothing melody that seemed to mock the turmoil that had drawn him here. The sculptures that lay scattered here and there were not of mythical creatures or heroes, but rather of intricate metal structures that cradled pinwheels, and as the night breeze danced through the garden, the pinwheels twirled and spun, casting a whimsical array of spiraling shadows on the ground.
The trees in the garden were a tapestry of sizes, the robust oaks standing tall, their branches a silent testament to the countless storms they had weathered. The flora was an astonishing array of petals of every hue and shape imaginable bloomed in a riot of color. The cobblestone paths, worn smooth by time, meandered through this botanical maze, guiding the way to both natural and man-made ponds.
Darkrai moved with a silent grace down one such path, his cloak of shadows billowing gently around him. The cobblestones beneath him remained untouched, as he levitated with the ease of a feather on the breath of the night wind. Finally, his journey ended at a grand oak tree, its long branches weaving a delicate canopy over the ground. Beneath it, a figure stirred, a creature that seemed to be a contradiction of the tranquil scene—a Pokémon whose very essence was a maelstrom of torment.
It was Latias, one of the Eon Guardians of Alto Mare.
Covered in downy red and white feathers, the avian Pokémon had a long neck that stretched forward from her squat body, the rear half of her body largely red and the upper half white. Stiff, jet-plane-like wings were attached high on her rear, and fins jutted out from either side of her stubby tail. A blue triangle marked the center of her chest, while a red mask pattern, a feature of her facial feathers, partially covered her face. Two ear-like fins sat on top of her head on either side. She had short arms near where her neck met her body, her upper arms white in color, thin and spindly, while her forearms were oblong shaped, a red covering on the outer side, and white on the inner side, each ending in three small, ivory claws.
Latias lay prone beneath the grand oak, her eyes squeezed shut in a desperate attempt to hold back the onslaught of night terrors that ravaged her mind. Her elegant face was damp and matted with the tears that streamed from the corners of her eyes, each tremble of her body sending a fresh wave of fear rippling through the air, a testament to the intensity of the turmoil that gripped her. Her breaths were shallow and erratic, punctuating the stillness of the night with a rhythm of distress. As Darkrai approached her body contorted into an almost fetal position, as if seeking a comfort that she could not find.
Darkrai stopped and observed her from a respectful distance, his stilt-like appendages extending from his lower body, allowing him to stand firmly on the cobblestone path, studying her intently. He had never seen a Pokémon so lost in the throes of a nightmare, not even the most fearful of his kin. Her anguish was palpable, and for a creature that feasted on the fears of others, this was a rare and poignant moment.
With a deliberate movement, Darkrai extended his clawed hand towards Latias. His intention was to use Dream Eater, a move that would normally allow him to devour the nightmares that plagued her, to feed on the negative energy that coursed through her veins. Yet, as he reached out, something within the tumultuous maelstrom of her dreams tugged at the very core of his being—a familiarity that resonated deep within his shadowy essence.
He paused, suddenly feeling an inexplicable desire to know what specifically was causing her distress. All he'd have to do is peer into her nightmares, rather than consume them. His decision to investigate rather than immediately consume was unprecedented. Darkrai's instincts as a creature of the night, as the Lord of Nightmares, urged him to feast on her fears, but another part of him, something unexplored and curious, held him back.
He delicately pushed his dark presence into her troubled thoughts, tiptoeing through the corridors of her mind.
***
Within the chaos of Latias's nightmare, he saw images of a colossal wave, a wall of water that threatened to consume the city of Alto Mare. At the forefront of the tumult, Latias and another Pokémon, her brother Latios, soared through the air, their forms a blur of red, blue, and white, feathers as they flew into the oncoming wave, their psychic abilities intertwined in a desperate bid to hold back the massive deluge.
Darkrai watched as the siblings combined their psychic might, the bond between them clear, a unity of love and a common purpose, working tirelessly to hold the wave at bay and protect their home. The air grew thick with their combined energy, a dance of light that painted the sky in a dizzying array of colors, and with a herculean effort, the siblings pushed the wave back, their eyes gleaming with a fierce determination that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of the dream. The city of Alto Mare trembled, but it remained unscathed, the people sleeping soundly, oblivious to the battle being waged just out in the bay.
The wall of water receded, retreating into the ocean from which it came.
But victory came at a cost. The night air grew colder, and a sudden silence fell upon the dreamscape. Latias watched as Latios's body glowed with a heart-wrenching blue light, the very essence of his life force draining away as he had given everything to save the city, her eyes widening in horror as she realized the price of their victory. He touched her claw one last time, then floated up, the light growing brighter, more intense, until it was almost unbearable.
Then, Latios vanished in a column of radiant energy that shot skyward, piercing the veil of the night and reaching for the heavens themselves. The pillar of light grew smaller, dimmer, until it was nothing but a wisp of memory, leaving Latias alone in the wake of their shared terror. Her sobs grew louder, shaking the very fabric of the nightmare, and Darkrai felt the echoes of her pain resonate within his own shadowy soul.
He knew now why her anguish was so potent—it was grief, a grief so profound that it had the power to shape the very essence of her dreams. But still, he was puzzled by his own response to her suffering. Why did he feel this strange pull, this need to understand her?
He watched as the scene shifted again, the tumultuous waves of Latias's subconscious giving way to a tranquil sea the morning after the tidal wave. In the vast expanse of the ocean, she was riding on the back of a mighty Mantine, its blue form slicing gracefully through the water. Suddenly, a small, wooden rowboat appeared in the distance, approaching at a steady pace, the figures within growing clearer as the boat drew nearer. Darkrai felt a jolt of recognition—it was Ash Ketchum, a human trainer he himself had met on numerous occasions, and Pikachu, the yellow Electric Rodent and Ash's longtime companion, their forms outlined by the soft glow of dawn. They were surrounded by four others, each face etched with concern as they approached the grieving Eon Guardian astride the Mantine.
They lifted her into their vessel with care, her body trembling with the weight of her grief, and Ash, upon realizing Latios was gone, wrapped his arms around Latias, pulling her into a warm embrace to comfort her.
Darkrai watched, a silent witness to the unfolding narrative. It dawned on him that perhaps this was why he felt such a profound connection to Latias, why he was inclined to discover the source of her pain, rather than just outright feed on it. Like him, she had been touched by Ash, for when he and Darkrai crossed paths in Alamos Town, Ash had seen through the veil of fear that often surrounded him and offered him companionship. He was also somewhat responsible for his current relationship with Cresselia.
***
Darkrai withdrew his mental tendrils from the nightmare with the same gentleness he had employed to enter it, leaving the dream world and returning to the quiet embrace of the Secret Garden. Latias's sleep remained restless, her body shivering with the aftermath of the night's terrors. He knew that he could not, would not, feed on her grief, for any friend of Ash was his ally.
The Lord of Nightmares hovered over the sleeping Eon Pokémon, his stilt-like legs receding into his body, his cloak of shadows ruffling in the gentle night breeze. He could see the anguish etched into her features, the weight of her loss a tangible presence in the moonlit garden. He realized that unless something was done, she would be consumed by her sorrow, trapped in a never-ending cycle of pain and despair. And while Darkrai could not resurrect Latios, he sensed that Latias desired something almost as much: to see Ash again.
With a silent nod to the slumbering, grieving guardian, Darkrai took to the air, his shadowy form blending with the darkness. The night was his domain, and he navigated it with the grace of a phantom, flying over the rooftops of Alto Mare. Ash Ketchum. The name echoed through his thoughts like a beacon of light in a realm of shadows. The human had an uncanny ability to bridge the gap between the world of Pokémon and their own, and if any could help Latias find peace, it was him.