To anyone who might be reading this, and have caught up to the rest of the fic: I am thoroughly impressed you actually put in all that effort, though at the same time I must say it's bizarre...
This is the last chapter of this fan fic, which I'd written many, many years ago. I saw it gathering dust in my notes and I thought I may as well go ahead and post it, since the chapter I left this at doesn't quite do justice to Shango's tale. I think that if you've read this so far, you, too, will find this to be a more elegant conclusion to the story.
As this is pretty old stuff - and I mean, old, I will not be accepting any feedback or corrections at this time.
At any rate, thank you for your time. Here goes!
Black clouds blocked the sky above Ionia, bringing the dark a few hours earlier. Only the fire that spread in the citadel shared its light with the city; screams could still be heard in the streets, as all those who hadn't been able to evacuate were mercilessly slaughtered by the charging Hesperians. Every corner of the city was swarming with the Pokemon soldiers of the Empire - buildings were brought down and burnt to cinders, including Jericho's palace; the only major buildings that were standing were the lighthouse in the middle of the western side, and the overwhelming castle in the eastern side of Ionia. It was there, on top of that castle, where Chancellor Jericho had decided to use the darkstar in its full potential; whatever the cost, with his only goal to entirely destroy the enemy's troops.
From up there, Jericho could see them, razing the city and killing residents they came across. While he was safely on top of the castle, as close to the clouds as he had ever been, the citizens of his city were being killed, and he was soon going to do something about it. Or try, at least, because he still was unsure of how the gem worked. But he was able to use it against the Phantom Dancer, and he believed he had found the end of the thread he was supposed to follow to reach the inner power of the crystal.
Jericho had picked the most skilled and known warriors of the Verdict - around him were standing seven Pokemon who had been deemed heroes a decade ago by saving the King's Reconnaissance mission in the Scorching Lands. Jericho grinned evily in the thought that Shango would've known all of them pretty well, and he would recognize them if he ever reached the top of the castle. But no, Shango was dead now, and the Phantom Dancer with him. The Endarkened Ones, now his enemies, were scattered after the Prophet teleported them out - so he guessed. With his betrayal, it would be hard for them to recuperate and rejoin forces.
All the Pokemon surrounding him had worked as a team all these years, taking on the most dangerous of missions. They had grown together, and with them, their skills. Baron Marcus, the Excadrill once in lead of the R.O.F.L.S. was now the leader of this team that was only suitable for extreme situations. Brutalinax, the vicious but honorable Garchomp, had stepped aside for him, but was always second in command as he was admittedly the most powerful Pokemon in the team. The Seeker Sunny Kingfisher, the very daughter of Dominique, had now evolved into a Meganium of great strength and influence. Next to her was the infamous Keeper Tahan, the Bronzong who fought besides all of the greatest Pokemon in Ionia and protected them with his life. Sitting down on the cold stone was Swifty, the Manectric who had been promoted to a Needler ever since his success in the Scorching Lands. Around him, the two brothers, Chan and Lee, a Hitmonchan and a Hitmonlee, were standing, observing the Armaldo in the middle carefully, a hint of doubt in their looks. The dark gem had been proven an enigma on its own, but none of them could understand the meaning of the psychic cage that held the Victini in it. The spirit had cried so much, she wouldn't even speak at first; then, she had apparently fainted. Swifty and Sunny were sorry for her, but they still refrained from asking the Chancellor to set her free.
"I may have failed to kill the Endarkened Ones... but their time will soon come," Jericho whispered, staring at the citadel below him. The Pokemon around him knew him well enough that he was speaking more to himself rather than them, and they'd learned better than to ask questions - like, who the Endarkened Ones were, and what they had to with Ionia being razed to the ground.
"Um, mister Santaros," Sunny spoke with a bit of the shyness of the past, "our people die down there... shouldn't we go help them?"
"Ah, but that's what we're doing here! Or rather, I will do."
"But we'd be more useful in the battlefield," Brutalinax said in a rough voice; clearly not appreciative of the Chancellor. He thought of the dark gem and its supposed powers as a myth Jericho's crazed old mind made up, but his discipline had taught him better than to react to his superior's orders.
"No, you wouldn't be," the Armaldo said without paying too much attention to him. The black glow of the darkstar was absorbing his attention, but a heavy step forward from the Excadrill forced him to look back at him.
"Sir, with all due respect, I would rather be with the last of my soldiers right now."
"So you can die along with them?" Jericho asked, smirking in his anger. "What's the matter with you, you all want to die so much! Just sit back and enjoy this!"
"How..." the Hitmonchan started saying, but Swifty slightly zapped him to make him stop. They exchanged looks of understanding and stayed silent. Jericho gave them a wicked grin, as if saying that was how they should act in front of him, and turned to Ionia again. He put the cage with the crying Victini down and raised the scythe that was holding the darkstar firmly, for all the city to see. The fires below were not reflected on the ever-dark gem.
"Stay back," Jericho said to the Pokemon behind him, who didn't move one bit - they didn't think it necessary. They only stared at him down, thinking the Chancellor was out of his old mind.
The wind stopped blowing, but nobody took notice. Silence took over the castle, the burning citadel now in another world, different than that Jericho's mind created with the power of the darkstar. A loud sound cracked as a dark pulse was send to cover the area, passing right through the surrounding Pokemon. They backed off, all of them terrified to the core of their being, and they cowered on the stone floor that had suddenly become ice cold. Their eyes reflected a sphere of thundering darkness twice as big as Jericho, who was holding it - the darkness consumed everything - wind, temperature - but the wielder of the darkstar and the castle behind him. As it got bigger and bigger, Jericho started his terrible, high pitched laugh, as he felt the immense power running through him; but then something stopped the sphere from growing. A shadow appeared behind the sphere, quickly getting bigger than it, then all of the Pokemon saw something - a ship's mast, raised above the sphere. A terrible, cracking sound was heard and Jericho was blown backwards, the sphere instantly fading as the darkstar fell out of his scythe. Blue, iridescent light emerged with the disappearance of the darkness, and a massive flying ship with a pirate flag atop the masthead passed ten feet above them.
"Yeeehaaa!"
Somebody on board was screaming and laughing wildly.
All the Pokemon atop the castle took cover as the ship passed dangerously close above them, then turned their heads to look at the glowing ship, flying away. Jericho stood up weakly, overwhelmed by the sight.
"What was that?" Sunny asked in awe, all eyes on the cloud of smoke where the ship had disappeared into. Then, the dreadful metallic sound of steel piercing flesh made them all jerk their head to Jericho.
The Armaldo had fallen to his knees, and above his head, another shadow, the shadow of a black hood emerged.
Two steel blades had ran through the Armaldo's chest, impaling it fully. The Chancellor's eyes were widened in surprise and shock, seeing the blades through his tough chest. Suddenly, he started glowing blue and he was abruptly pulled off of the steel blades to be carried away by Tahan's psychic powers, who also grabbed the Victini's cage and the darkstar. Behind Jericho, a dark figure was standing, one the Chancellor could recognize very well.
Jericho had fallen behind the Bronzong, who was floating in front of him as a protective shield. Sunny had ran next to the Chancellor, breathing on his wounds to relieve him with her abilities. During that time, the hooded figure was standing immovable, observing the other members of the Verdict, who had taken battle positions and were ready to attack. Once the Chancellor regained full consciousness and recovered from the shock, he locked his eyes on the silent figure, examining the steel mask and the green eyes shining in the darkness of the hood; those and the furry ears weren't any proof of the identity of the Pokemon, but he wanted to believe it was just another Hashashin wearing a mask.
"I know it's not you," he called out weakly, and coughed, "I killed... I killed what's behind that mask..."
"Behind this mask, lay my beliefs. You can kill me as many times as you want... those, you cannot."
Brutalinax could already tell that this wasn't like any opponent he had faced before - it wasn't about the size, it was about the power within. It made his heart race in acknowledgement of the will of that Pokemon, that was infused into words and soon, as it seemed, actions. The mystifying hood and cloak didn't quite allow him to say who he was, but his voice... that voice...
"Shango," the Garcomp said simply.
"It's... you, Shango?" Sunny asked with fear that didn't suit a member of the Verdict - these had never killed one of their own, as they would be ordered to do so soon. Shango nodded plainly, entertained by the shock in the faces of his former allies. It was a moment to be remembered, even though he would have to kill them all.
"It seems we are opponents, now," he said. "It's a pity. Following the command of a Pokemon as narrow minded as this Chancellor should be forbidden by the Verdict."
"Look around you," Marcus said in an aggravated tone, "Ionia is being destroyed as we speak! You've chosen the wrong side!"
"I don't care for your perception of what side is right and wrong. I didn't ask you to tell me your opinion in the first place. Whatever tied me to this city has been long gone," he uttered.
Bleeding as he was, Jericho grabbed the darkstar next to him and looked at the figure with the hatred and anger, his eyes burning with black fire as he imbued his thoughts into the gem. "I will wipe your soul out of this plane of existence... neither you nor your beliefs will plague this world anymore..."
The Phantom Dancer opened his arms wide in a taunting gesture, challenging Jericho, who yelled angrily; his yell infused the gem, which glowed with black sparks. A bolt of lightning was thrown at the Phantom Dancer, who was welcoming it. The moment everyone thought it had hit the black cloak, the bolt was deflected; it hit Lee and its black light was gone in an instant, as was he. All that remained from the Hitmonlee was dark ash. His brother, Chan, let out a scream and knelt over, everyone looking at him in shock.
"Why doesn't it work?!" Jericho shouted, throwing the gem down on the floor. Its black glow faded entirely, along with the terrifying feeling, the burden of its presence - it was now nothing but a normal, dark gem. Jericho didn't seem to notice or care and he turned to the Phantom Dancer. "No matter. I can kill you - again - without the darkstar!"
"This is unwise," Shango warned him in a calm tone. "End your struggle. I know how this is going to end," his voice fell low, "it is going to end with my blades through your head."
The Armaldo gritted his teeth and struggled to get up, but he was unable. The two wounds from Shango's blades had not closed entirely yet, and there was nothing more Sunny could do now. The Chancellor looked furiously at the Pokemon around him. "Kill him," he ordered, and Brutalinax was the quickest to heed the order. Hesitation had no place in this situation, although he did question the Chancellor's motive; everybody did, in fact, although Shango had just tried to kill him - before he was revived by Sunny. Long blades were shot out of the Phantom Dancer's sleeves, the stance of the Pokemon revealing his combat readiness.
The Garchomp charged at him, but Shango slipped besides him, unseen, stabbing his back and moving next to Chan who threw him a punch that was met by steel - the gloves of the Hitmonchan were pierced and he screamed in pain, his scream stopping when he was stabbed brutally in the chest and throat. Brutalinax turned around furiously to see a psychic blast being consumed entirely by the black cloak - that's all he could see - and Tahan's psychic voice echoing in their heads as he let out a resonating scream. The Bronzong's steel body was penetrated by a force of darkness that had covered Shango's right arm, tearing the Pokemon in half as if it was made of paper. Brutalinax, Sunny and Marcus charged in towards the shadowy figure, but they lost sight of him again, briefly. In a steel sound, the throat of the Meganium was impaled, blood being shot everywhere; she coughed blood as she fell to the side, unable to sustain the pain of her massive wounds.
The rest of the Verdict kept calm even though the Pokemon dear to them were being killed in front of their eyes; once they relocated their focus on the Phantom Dancer, who had leaped on Brutalinax, Swifty threw multiple Thunders at him, which only managed to hit his cape, having no effect on the material. The Garchomp swung his arm in an attempt to counter Shango, but the arm went right through him, or so it seemed; little time passed that Brutalinax spent in confusion. His throat was slashed with the blades of Shango's right arm, which had been engulfed in liquid darkness that was coming from his shoulder, growing them even bigger - two huge, black claws, imbued with the piercing and overwhelming power of death. Brutalinax fell backwards, fatally wounded - he would normally be able to go in an outrage, but his wounds were exceptionally deep and so carefully placed, he knew he would drown in his own blood within seconds. Just like the rest who had fallen; the last thoughts that came through his mind were devoted in the Hashashin's strike, the single hit that sufficed to eliminate his opponents.
Jericho watched with shock, with anger and hatred for his foe that danced through his most trusted warriors; he now knew why the Phantom Dancer was named that - Shango was but a dancing shadow amongst the other Pokemon, who struggled to find and hit him. A shadow, he was there, but he wasn't at the same time... nobody could hit him at that time.
But, it was all wrong. Jericho thought he was supposed to win. He had Tristana by his side, nothing could go wrong for him. "Get him, you fools!" he shouted angrily. Then, he turned to the cage with Tristana, shaking it violently. "I am destined to win!"
Shango locked his green eyes with Swifty, but the Manectric had not yet realized what he was looking at, despite his quick nature - the shadows had rendered Shango faster than his own shadow, both in brawl and mind. It was a sensation of ultimate concentration he had learned to achieve through years of training, although most battle trainers he had gotten to know claimed it was impossible to attain. He knew it wasn't. The darkstar had helped him gain access to it, as well as multiple, other abilities he didn't even know he possessed. Such as merging his body with the shadows... and slipping through the Manectric, who let out sparks in response, a Thunderbolt which was abruptly ended as he was ripped in half by the two black claws.
Tristana slowly opened her blue eyes, sleepily. She wanted to believe all this was a bad dream, and she would find herself by Shango's side. Once she caught sight of the familiar dark figure, she gasped and clutched the bars of the psychic cage. "Shango!" she looked up at Jericho, who shook her prison once again. "I said," the Chancellor repeated, "make me win!" he shouted right at her face, greed and anger mixed on his ugly face.
"Never!" she screamed back, her anger flaring. Tristana's eyes started glowing white, the light soon spreading to her whole body. Her ears caught on fire, forming the letter V and she screamed as she unleashed her inner power on the cage. A pillar of flames was let loose off the destroyed cage, flames that obscured the Chancellor's sight of the fight and forcing him to crawl backwards to avoid being burned alive. The flaming wall lasted for about two seconds, then it faded along with the spirit.
Tristana was nowhere to be seen or felt anymore.
Amongst the remaining sparks and embers that were fading in the air, the Phantom Dancer was walking towards Jericho; Jericho couldn't tell if he was running, or walking, if this was real time or it was slowed down, somehow. The other feelings of anger were instantly overshadowed by the growing embrace of fear: every Pokemon behind Shango was laying dead on the floor, their blood forming a singular pool that stained the stone. Behind him, the fires of Ionia, the clouds of black smoke; Shango threw his mask aside, and pulled his hood down, having his stare fixed on his mortal enemy.
The Chancellor tried to get up, in vain... then he grabbed the darkstar from the floor, in vain as well - the gem didn't respond to his thoughts, nor his touch. Shango flicked the monstrous claws of his right hand, making the gem fly towards him. Before it even touched his hand, he felt the immense power, the endless possibilities and he saw each and every one of them - all the things he could accomplish with this gem were stored as memories inside it, as if they already had happened, and he could view them just as he could dive into the river of life and examine a voidborn's life from its start to whenever he wanted, even end it right then. Once the darkstar merged with the liquid darkness of his right hand, he felt completed, as if he was missing a vital part of himself this whole time - ever since he had touched it for the first time. He had shut his eyes and turned his head down to fully grasp the intense sensation; when he looked at the Chancellor again, his eyes were deep black and the look on his face was a mask of vicious fury. He looked nothing like Shango. He looked like Hector, and a lot older. The fallen General who had killed more times than he had spoken words in his life.
Jericho was staring at him with his eyes widened, trying to understand what had happened. He attempted to get up once again, but his wounds did not allow him any more movement. He quickly looked around for the Victini, but the spirit was gone, not even by the Phantom Dancer's side. There was nothing he could hide behind, nobody to stand between him and the assassin. Shango spoke in a tone that sounded as calm and serene as the open sea, as if he had just woken up from a quick nap; it somehow fitted Hector's tone of his feral spirit.
"Victory can now be claimed by anyone. These are the fair odds of the game of life and death."
"This isn't fair! You had the spirit with you all along!" Jericho screamed in anger, attempting to get on his feet.
"That's what fate is, a merciless goddess. I got to meet Tristana first."
"Even without Tristana by your side... you lived. You should be dead!"
"No... you are the one who should have died, long ago," Shango said. He suddenly grabbed the Armaldo's head with his left hand and brought the massive black claws between his eyes, through his head with the sound of blade rending flesh.
"I bid you farewell."
***
He stared at the burning citadel of Ionia below him, but his mind was elsewhere, into the newfound darkness in his mind. As he discovered, it was a mutual thing. It wasn't something menacing, nor a thing that could be hiding something, but it wasn't a good thing as well. There was no good or bad, only shades of the darkstar's darkness. This darkness he could see through and understand, and use in so many different ways, both in his mind and reality.
There was someone there. A person in a hood, a white, old and worn out gray cloak, who had extended his arm towards him.
Once he grabbed it, every sound and feeling from the outside faded into his subconscious.
He was standing on a plateau, full of grass, that was being crossed in half by a river, a lake in front of it. Hills on the far south, mountains on the north. The two of them were on the west side of that plateau, about the middle. It was real, he could tell, it was absolutely real. The place existed, and he was its master.
That person looked much like Crystal. The feline structure under the cloak, the black, furry ears and the snout emerging from the hood were enough for Shango to deduce that it was a Zoroark. Piercing, deep red eyes were glowing under the hood, a hood which seemed to serve no other purpose than that of symbolism - Zoroarks didn't need cloaks to remain hidden. The red claws were holding a cane tightly, one made of black wood.
But that person wasn't alone, as Shango thought before - a Murkrow had nested on his shoulder, its eyes unnaturally circular and red, as if it was an artificially-made robot. Or simply a puppet... Shango couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the dread this figure with the Murkrow caused to him, despite them being in an open, grassy and sunny field with lots of flowers... these two Pokemon he met, they were inside the darkstar. He had a feeling he knew him - it was a male, behind the hood. It suddenly occurred to him that the one before him greatly resembled the silhouette and feel the Spirit of the Hashashin projected, strangely.
"Who are you?"
The Zoroark was observing him, with a stone-like expression; Shango could see right through it - the Pokemon was proud of him, but he did not show it in his appearance, but rather in his soul. "I am many things..."
"Elaborate."
"Still can't tell who I am?" the figure let out a laugh, in which his disturbance was quite obvious.
"You're an Hashashin."
The Zoroark nodded simply. He searched inside the wild black fur of his chest and drew an insignia out - the insignia of the Hashashin - and stuck it onto his belt. Shango looked at it intently, but he could feel both the enigma Pokemon and his Murkrow staring at him in a scrutinizing way. Just then, he realized he wasn't wearing his mask, nor his cloak - he was absolutely exposed to the Pokemon. But they both seemed to welcome him, instead of resent him.
"I designed that symbol, you know," the Zoroark whispered quietly, with meaning.
Shango looked upon him with awe and shock.
"You... you're the founder of the Hashashin, aren't you?"
The figure nodded with a sly grin on his smart looking face. Shango's eyebrows shifted by this unusual meeting. He realized he was looking at the man who caused so many legends to be forged under his name...
"Chantalai..." he whispered, finally able to recognize the resemblance between him and Crystal. But of course, Crystal was a direct ancestor of this legendary Pokemon, as was he, in a way.
"Chantalai... that's what my friends... or rather, contacts, call me," the old Zoroark agreed with him. Shango looked at him, figuring out such a man never had many friends, but 'contacts', instead, as he said. His Murkrow suddenly let out a cry and drew his attention.
"Fowl! Fowl!" the black bird was crying.
"Foul?" Shango asked.
"Fowl. It's his name."
"Kraa! Hashashin, saviors of the universe!"
Chantalai smirked in disturbance and grabbed the Murkrow's beak, his red claws grasping it tightly to make him stop screaming.
"Isn't he exaggerating...?" Shango asked dreamily. He was ready to fall asleep, as this world he was brought was seemingly heaven-like, and he was tired, so tired... he could always resume this conversation later. But he had a feeling it was rather important to be postponed. So important, in fact, that Ionia's fate was hanging from it.
"He is," Chantalai said angrily and locked his eyes on Shango in a scrutinizing manner, after he let go of his bird. Shango felt the original Master's stare right through him, and he instantly knew all of his thoughts and memories - with no exception. He was holding the darkstar, now, and all the residents of the crystal had full access to him. "You don't need to tell me who you are, I know already. I was right in expecting somebody worthy... an Hashashin."
"I have so many questions," Shango said, sitting down. Chantalai remained exactly where he was, only now looking down, still holding his cane and leaning forward. His patient silence reminded Shango of himself - Chantalai was expecting him to start talking. "How did you get trapped in the darkstar?"
"I wasn't trapped, I simply merged a part of myself with it, just like you did with it and your arm. I chose my soul for that part - you always have to give something up to the darkstar."
"What did Jericho give up, then?"
"Nothing, apart from his greed and ill intentions. That fool... he couldn't see that was why the darkstar wouldn't serve him properly..."
"Are you alive?"
"Yes and no. When my body died in the physical world, a part of me remained in this gem, just like I had planned. But, this part was halved... into this version of myself, and the Spirit of the Hashashin."
"What? The Spirit of the Hashashin...?"
"The Spirit of the Hashashin is me. It only lacks the ability to communicate directly. I'll have you know, sometime, I desired it to remain forever among the Hashashin, who would treat him as God..."
Shango stayed silent, observing Chantalai closely - he detected no greed in his voice, so that intrigued him greatly, because his statement did seem outrageous. "Why?"
"So that it may direct them, put them in the right way, just as it did with you."
"I see... did you do all this with the power of the darkstar?"
"How else, do you think? This thing holds amazing power!" he let out a laugh and waved his cane.
He suddenly got serious again, adopting a steel expression that seemed to be a standard of his. Shango could tell this Pokemon's influence on anyone he laid his eyes upon was beyond immense.
"Shango," he called, "yours is a sacred cause. I have seen, through Jericho, what the Hashashin have become. If you intend to cleanse the brotherhood and correct its course, I will help you... and speaking of helping you, I'll have to get credit for the darkstar not frying you to ash!" he laughed again, reminding Shango of the pirates this time. He simply nodded to thank him, looking down.
"You said 'through Jericho'... you mean you haven't seen the world through the eyes of Ignacio Phylax?"
"Ah, that fellow. No, I've only seen him in Jericho's memories."
"That means he never touched this darkstar... how could have he accomplished so much for Telaar, then?"
"You don't expect the world to bear the burden of only one darkstar, do you?"
"So, he found another darkstar..."
"Yes, I suspect he found it in the bottom of Acheloos lake, where I had it locked away. But I had already shared part of me with this darkstar, the very first I had found, so there was nothing for me to leave there..." he said darkly. "It stained the lake's waters and destroyed Telaar's crops for centuries, until Ignacio found it. And he was stained in turn."
"That explains a lot... as for his legendary power, it was granted by the darkstar... Does he still have it?"
"No... that is why he joined the Endarkened Ones, I presume. To find it again."
The two Hashashin paused their conversation and exchanged looks; Shango felt an odd sensation up his spine, a chilling one. Chantalai was evaluating him with his piercing, clever eyes that were unaffected by his old age. He could tell he knew everything that was going on in his mind, but he still waited for him to voice his questions first. This time, he did not speak his mind, and Chantalai spoke in his place.
"The darkstar touched your heart," the Zoroark said and Shango remembered everything that had happened... he had killed Zaunix, his own friend. He wished he could tell him he was sorry again. "It didn't kill you," Chantalai continued and Shango looked at him questioningly.
"The wound it caused should have been enough of a fatal blow," he noticed. Chantalai nodded and brought his hand to his furry chin, rubbing it. His bird let out a cry and flapped its wings with no reason at all; Shango glanced at it, having a feeling the bird wasn't completely wild - he seemed able to talk, but rather chose not to.
"Make no mistake in thinking this gem can be made to kill - oh, no. On the contrary, this darkstar is used to give birth. Create. The first Phantom Dancer used it to manipulate the fabric of our dimension. If your wound seemed fatal to you... it took simply another flick of the darkstar's power to close it. A flick Jericho triggered without his consent. But, before that, the gem did touch your heart."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that the most vital part of your body is forever connected to the gem. Each of us can use it differently, but you can use it in any way you like..."
Shango looked around at the grassy field. He realized they were standing in the very field Ionia was built. It was free of any signs of life, though, and the clouds didn't seem to move; there was no wind, either. More questions were raised in his mind quickly.
"Is it true, Chantalai? That Tristana helped me overcome any challenge?"
"Partly."
"Partly?"
"She was there, helping you, with her advice and company only. So yes, I would say she helped you a lot," Chantalai said with a clever, enigmatic grin spread on his snout. "As for your accomplishments...
you are the Phantom Dancer, not Tristana." Now, his smile had become warm, though a bit biased, as if he wasn't used to smiling, or showing kindness for that matter. Shango then noticed that Chantalai didn't seem much of a kind Pokemon - in fact, he seemed ruthless. Now the idea that he had no friends seemed normal, after talking to him. He assumed the attitude he displayed when talking to him was special, and that the way he treated others must have been very different. Suddenly, the memories in the rift of life of that Pokemon seemed extremely intriguing to Shango.
"Will you show me something from your youth, Chantalai?"
"Not now... our future holds quite a lot of things for us... you, I mean, to do."
Shango looked down, running his hand between his ears. "Eliminate the rest of the Endarkened Ones... Ignacio included."
"Ah, yes, of course. But, first, what are you gonna do about this world?" Chantalai opened his arms wide, cane in hand, showing him the open field.
"Where is this?"
"This is the Imaginarium..."
"Imaginarium? Does it have something to do with imagination?"
"Yes, I made up that word..." Chantalai said and laughed along with his bird, who cried. Shango tilted his head, smirking his eyebrows, fascinated by the old man. "The Imaginarium," Chantalai continued, "is another word for the Nether Plane."
"The Nether Plane... you mean this is the void?"
"Hah! 'Void' puts it quite heavily, boy... there's no such thing."
"But... what of the 'voidborn'?"
"These are the children of the Phantom Dancer. There was no void to begin with. Only this world he created, the Imaginarium."
"Strange... and Zaunix? Zaunix always possessed otherworldly powers that seemed dark and... menacing, claiming they are from the Nether Plane, this world. But this... doesn't look dark and menacing at all."
"But it looks like how you want it to be..." Chantalai muttered, though Shango didn't fully understand what he meant. The Zoroark looked down in a plain expression; Shango saw sadness in his red eyes. "That fellow, Zaunix... he was the result of an experiment in which a Pokemon would be changed by the darkstar's fabric manipulation abilities. You saw how it turned out... his spirit was left unchanged, though."
"Who would do such thing?"
"The Prophet. Yes, the Prophet once desired to create an army of those beings. But it turned out more time absorbing than he had ever thought."
"I see... tell me, is this Imaginarium all in my mind?"
"It is... but through the darkstar, you can make it your reality."
"What am I to do with it?"
"The Hashashin once settled down in a fortress a top Mount Aegis, but the Dark Cult... destroyed it. You could build a new homeland for the Hashashin... right where Ionia and the lake are now."
Shango threw him a look full of doubt to determine whether Chantalai was joking or not. "A homeland for the Hashashin? We'll never be able to keep the enemies of the brotherhood away..."
"You won't ever need to, if they simply can't enter. Remember, endless possibilities... Think of something, think of a building."
Shango looked to the west, where the mysterious lighthouse of Ionia once was. Suddenly, it was there, only with no houses surrounding it and no square in front of it. He smirked his eyebrows. This was all in his mind. But as Chantalai said, he could make it a reality... A blink later, there was a hill in front of him, with a sand path escalating it. It was next to the river that crossed the field in half... another hill was raised at the other side of the river, and a stone bridge connected their peaks. Multiple houses were built out of nowhere, covering the two hills entirely. Chantalai started laughing after each sight.
"Well done, my boy."
"This... this is amazing."
"Isn't it? I wish I could have done that myself."
"Why couldn't you?"
"Ah... the darkstar granted me other kinds of powers."
"What kind of powers, if I may ask?"
"Powers that scared many of my own..." he muttered, looking down. "I once could bring my illusions into reality."
The Zoroark's illusions... into reality. "You could instantly have anything you wanted..."
"I hadn't thought of it that way... but yes. Enough of that," he said dismissively, not wanting to talk about it further. "Continue with your work, Shango, and summon all of the Hashashin in these two hills, when you are done. Have a talk with them..." he coughed a bit, seemingly tired of the conversation.
"Hold on. What of the Hesperians? What will happen to the Pokemon in Ionia right now?"
"I don't know. Either they will be trapped in the Imaginarium forever... or you will manage to send them back, somehow."
"And... what about Crystal... Claire, Tylor and Hector?"
"If any of them are in Ionia during the placement of Imaginarium... if your wish is to transport them to this homeland you'll create, like you will do with the Hashashin, then so it may be. You can try doing anything..."
"All this... sounds odd."
"It does, that's what I thought when I first heard of it, too. But when you are brought to reality, all will seem normal."
Shango looked down momentarily, then back at the two hills, the lighthouse next to them and river crossing underneath them. "Let this town be called Nevermore. Where the Hashashin were rebuilt."
Chantalai's Murkrow grasped his cane in its mouth, flapping alongside him, allowing the Zoroark to clap his hands happily. "Well said, Shango."
Shango suddenly felt a deep love for the Pokemon - he was the father he always wanted, but never had. Who would have known... what was Alexander like? He was not related to Chantalai. Only his mother was, Alice Ancelotti.
"Chantalai... there's one more thing, before I begin."
He remained silent, looking at him and welcoming him to go on.
"My father..."
"Your father was destroyed by Ignacio's darkstar... I don't know if you will be able to find him again, even if you find the gem."
"And... what of my mother?"
Chantalai blinked slowly, looking at him a bit sad, fully acknowledging his pain. Shango could see right through his spirit - Chantalai had no memories of his mother. And the memories of his father were surprisingly little. The original Master knew his pain right now.
"Your father was forced to kill Alice," he said bluntly, as if he couldn't say it another way. "She was in labor, and the Hashashin were coming - he needed to get you out of her belly sooner. Then, having no other way, he gave you to your uncle Pasqual... who wrote a tag with your name, Shango, on it, and threw you to the river before the traitors of our kind arrived."
Shango was looking plainly at him, but Chantalai knew what his mind was going through. He turned away, to look at the open fields. For the sake of the brotherhood, he would have to change it, and this would be its homeland. The perfect society for the Hashashin to live in, while operating in the outside world.
Nevermore was created in his mind, then landed abruptly to reality.
***
Shango felt the wet grass underneath his cloak, the light breeze running through him. He slowly opened his eyes, to look at the shining kingdom of the clouds, stains of light blue in between the gaps. In hand, the pulsing power of the black gem warmed his whole body up, making him feel fuzzy and comfortable, as if he was inside the mother's loving embrace that he never had. It was liquid, the darkness, but the darkness which made his claws grow out of it like two menacing shadows had faded; his eyes were back to green, and he did not look like Hector anymore... he remembered Hector - they had to be related, some way.
He got up, his eyes locked on the reflective waters of the lake in front of him; it was time to turn around and follow the river with his sight, all the way up to the two hills around and above it. This time, two stone bridges connected them; the lower one was bigger and seemed more of a square than a bridge. Around ten stone houses with red tiled roofs were spread around those hills.
A great smile took form on Shango's face, which was brightened with happiness as he looked at the creation of his own mind. The perfect place for the Hashashin to grow and prosper without the disturbances of the outside world - nobody could enter the Imaginarium without bearing the insignia of the Hashashin, just like Shango had imagined. He took notice of a pirate ship that had been stuck on the foot of the left hill, next to the river. There he was, Nautilus, trying to push the schooner inside the river and Tylor and Thomas cheering for him. The Feraligatr got angry and attacked Thomas, chasing him around the fields. They suddenly stopped, as they noticed Shango walking towards them - they were well aware of his cloak and its rusty, faint runes, now, enough to recognize him instantly. Nautilus stopped besides the Machop, who looked humbly towards him.
"Ahoy, Crownie," Nautilus spoke, waving his hand and grinning.
"I won't wear a crown ever again..."
"A'ight."
"Please explain?" Thomas asked, showing him the hill.
"Ya! How the heck d'we get here?! We were flying, 'n suddenly, outta nowhere, this hill happen'd!"
"All in good time, my friends," Shango said with a great smile and grabbed Thomas' hand and shook it, patting his shoulder. He did the same with Nautilus under his surprised stare, before he waved them to follow him towards the crushed ship. Tylor approached him with his arms opened wide and a grin spread on his face.
"Wonderboy, Wonderboy! What in the world happened?"
"Wait a bit more... all will be explained soon," Shango said patiently. He stopped in front of the Sableye. "Tylor Grubas. I formally thank you and your crew for your services! I might not be able to grant you the rewards I promised, but what I have in mind you will like better, I believe."
"Ooh, what is it?!" Thomas asked, jumping up and down. "Is it lollipops from Podville?!"
"No, ye doofus," Nautilus shouted, laughing. "Bet it's another ship, 'cause this one's broken fer good!"
"Look again closely," Shango said. The pirates turned around to see their ship fully fixed, still stuck on the grass. Once they looked back at him in surprise, he raised his right arm for them to look in question.
"I got it, Tylor, the darkstar is what brought you here. Say... where is Crystal? Hector? Zorthan?" and Claire, he thought, but the pirates probably didn't know her. He noticed Nautilus took off his pirate hat and looked down; the Machop looked down as well, followed by Tylor. He felt the sadness of the pirates.
"I... um, we think Hector is... dead," Thomas said, trying to sound simple. Shango stared at him, evaluating his words.
"Is he?"
"General Charlie said so, Wonderboy," Tylor muttered. Shango looked up in the sky, above the hills, taking off his hood and putting his mask away. His expression revealed sadness for a moment, as he spoke a silent prayer for the friends he had lost in this war... Hector and Zaunix. He wouldn't ever forget them. As for Tristana... she wasn't gone forever, he knew it. She had just... went for a nap. He sighed, turning to look back at the pirates.
"How about Zorthan? Crystal?"
"Zorthan... I believe he is resting in the ship," Tylor said, looking back. "We still keep the Gardevoir prisoner, by the way."
"Let her go. She can't teleport out of this place. We will find something for her to do, eventually."
"You mean you're gonna keep her?!"
"Why not? I'm sure she'll be helpful. She flew a whole ship along with Zorthan and Lucy, anyway."
"True that!" Nautilus shouted.
"And Crystal?"
"Well... we haven't seen the lady ever since we left her in the ground to take you up that castle..."
"Right..." Shango muttered, bringing more of his memories up. After Jericho stabbed him with the darkstar, it was Crystal who found him in the rubble of the palace. They found the flying ship, which Shango had rode to the top of the castle, where he knew Jericho had went - but Crystal remained behind; she had told him she had something to take care of... that something was Claire. She was going to protect Claire. That was it. But if they were inside Ionia... why weren't they transported into the Imaginarium's Nevermore, as was his desire? It worked for Tylor and his crew. They had to be outside Ionia.
"Well, get ready for another trip," Shango said to them nodding towards the ship. He didn't feel tired at all. On the contrary, now he felt he could spend all the power he had and even more, and still be able to go on. "We're going to find Crystal... and somebody else."
Before I do anything for the Hashashin, I must gather those who can help me with what I intend to do.
***
"Umm, Angelo... or whatever is your name..." the Gardevoir had entered the hall of the Hollow's End, where Shango was sitting in the captain's chair, in front of the table with the map of the lake.
"Shango is my name," he said and waved her to come closer. "And your name is?"
"Serenity..." she whispered, quite afraid. Shango nodded.
"And why have you come here?"
"I felt... like there was something I needed to tell you. Aside from the way you and your... allies treated me, I feel you are a good person inside, and the same goes for your intentions." Shango looked at Serenity with his green eyes piercing through her soul; it was a look you could easily get lost in, one that made him seem older and wiser.
"You're acute," he remarked.
"So I've been told..."
"Well then, what is it that you wanted to tell me?"
"I have the ability to predict the short future."
"Future sight... typical ability of a psychic. And?"
"And... I've seen you. With your family."
"Where do you see us, then?" he asked her, giving her a hearty smile and thinking of Claire and him laying besides each other. Or sharing food with Crystal.
"I see you in a house in Podville..."
"That's where we head out to next, then." Claire ought to be there. If not, where else? "Send word to Tylor and Zorthan, we move out to the north."
"But... I feel we are currently in a different plane of existence... we cannot escape."
"Not without my consent," Shango said, noticing the Gardevoir was a bit sad.
"You won't let me go, will you..."
"You know I cannot do that."
"But... what about my family?"
"Your family... I will consider bringing them here, if you agree. They are psychics, aren't they?"
"Yes, they are... thank you."
"Why do you thank me, when my reality changes yours in such a devastating way?"
The Gardevoir looked at him. "Because you compromised..." Shango nodded, giving her a smile.
"Off we go, now. To Podville!"
Where I learned I was an Hashashin, where I was accepted into the brotherhood and took the oath... where all this adventure started.
***
Shango was walking up the grassy hill with the lonely house on the top, where he first woke up in the clutches of the Hashashin. The house had view to Podville town, but Shango had his back turned to it. Their ship had safely landed in the outskirts of the town, drawing unwanted attention, of course. Shango made no move to conceal the ship, as he thought the powers of the darkstar should be used for much more important purposes - that is what Chantalai was telling him from inside the gem.
Crystal was waiting for him in front of the house, unafraid that the Hashashin might catch her. Shango had seen her from afar as they were flying above the southern mountain ranges of Stygia, and he was puzzled that she wasn't hiding at all. She had ran away from the brotherhood, and that meant she was sentenced to death right away. But there she was, without a cloak, smiling at him.
"Shango!" she couldn't help it and ran towards him, hugging him, then letting him go suddenly, staring at his right hand.
"What... happened? Shango? What happened in Ionia, and what is this that you're holding?"
"This, Crystey," he started saying and her face took a dreamy expression, "is what the key to solving our problems looks like. You'll see."
"Is it... the darkstar?" she gasped, her red eyes looking at it intently and with a hint of fear. Then, she fixed her stare on him again. "There's no problems for us anymore, Shango... the Hashashin were left headless. Ignacio disappeared."
Shango looked at her, a bit surprised. "Last I seen him, he escaped with the Prophet from Jericho's palace... do you think it work of Ali Kemal?"
"I don't know..." she whispered. "But Nightingale has also vanished."
"Then, that means..." Shango said, looking down at the grass as he thought. "Bring all of the Hashashin in Ionia... or what has become of it. I will explain later."
"Alright, you got it," she said, winking charmingly at him, to receive his grateful smile. Then, her expression froze.
"Where's Tristy, really?" she asked abruptly. Shango's own expression shifted a little under the sadness, but he didn't show much of it. He patted her waist, motioning her down the hill dismissively, as to get her going.
"Shango," she yelled in protest.
"Later," he said simply, in an ordering tone. She exhaled, obviously upset.
"Claire... is in that house. I took her away from the war..."
"Did she want you to do that?" Shango asked sternly. He had faith in that Ninetails and the abilities that she rarely displayed.
"... no. Just go meet her, okay?"
He nodded and turned away, walking down the hill. Shango could feel sadness in her stance, apart from happiness. She knew about Hector, most probably.
His look razed the house, and his grasp over the darkstar loosened. It emerged on his palm and he threw it in a leather pouch, which he put in the inner pocket of his cloak. His cape licked the grass below as he went up the hill, noticing how the great tree that once shed its shadow over the house was now gone. The breeze was calm and peaceful.
He drummed his claws on the steel handle of the door, producing the sound he liked so much. "Come," he heard her voice and he kicked open the door. He was in the same, simple house where he took the oath. The drawers with the cloaks were still on the side; though the stone walls looked old, it was still in the condition he expected. Typical of Crystal to use this as a hideout for Claire; it maybe was Crystal's house, now that he was thinking about it. The moment he lay his eyes on the beautiful Ninetails he was longing so much to see, he crossed the room with quick steps and threw his cloak aside; he was entertained by her surprised expression and the look of awe in her gorgeous face.
"Shango?" she gasped. He hugged her tightly, sinking his nose inside the fur of her back and grabbing her foot. He explained everything, with every possible detail he could give her, watching her quiet reactions with a sly smile on his face; he could tell she was amazed.
"Flying ship," she muttered, looking down... "only you could think of such thing." Shango looked her in the eyes and brought his claws on the side of her snout. "The darkstar... do you have it?" she asked, looking at his cloak - she knew it was there.
"I do have it."
"Can I take a look, afterwards?"
"Hmm? After what?"
"You know." She giggled, putting her head over his shoulder. Shango fondled her foot playfully, drawing her to the very room he woke up as an Hashashin.
"I missed you, so much," he told her, grasping her whole body and staring into her red eyes. He knew that feeling that her warmth, her presence only brought. His happiness, a big part of it, was Claire, his beautiful Claire. As usual, she made his heart beat faster and his spine shiver - it had been so long, indeed, since he had last felt her touch, her fluffy fur. There were no words left to be said. They lay together right on the floor, on the hands of love.
***
The sun had settled, then risen again. Shango hadn't noticed the time being burned away, so much that he fell into a deep, sweet sleep. He saw dreams that didn't make sense, but were sweet regardless, and gave him a set of things that would soon be developed into ideas on how to improve the village of Nevermore. He wished death was like that, laying down comfortably in the sea of fur of his love. When he woke up, slowly, with a smile, he realized Claire wasn't next to him, and that she was calling him from the other room. He got up and dusted himself off, blinking his eyes in case this was another dream.
"Shango! Come, there's somebody I'd like you to meet." Claire's mellow, cheerful and melodic voice sounded, his smile growing bigger as he heard it - without paying too much attention to the meaning of the words. He walked outside the room and saw her, the Ninetails, and next to her, a young female Zangoose... his smile froze and his eyebrows smirked together as he raised his look on her face, which looked identical to his. The shape and fur of it, her green, cunning eyes and clever look. She was innocently biting her bottom lip, looking at him sharply, examining him.
"This is your daughter, Shango..." Claire said with a warm smile as he stared at the Pokemon next to her, stunned and overcome with surprise. One of her tails was touching the shoulder of the little Zangoose, who looked no more than ten years old. Shango thought for a moment, then realized what had happened. He slowly turned to look at Claire questioningly. Her expression turned a bit sad.
"She was one of the reasons I was looking for you..." she turned her beautiful head to the little Zangoose, who had brought her claw to her mouth, still examining her father. "Go to Shango," she whispered softly, her tail pushing her forward.
The little Zangoose walked over to Shango, quietly, who kneeled so their eyes could be at the same height. He was dazed by surprise, wondering how this could have ever happened, and if it was good or bad. This child had been raised without his care... how would she be? She locked eyes with him, saying nothing.
"What's... your name?" Shango managed to asked her, his eyes widened as he couldn't bear the creature in front of him for an instant.
"Morticia," she said happily. "Mother has told me a lot about you!"
Shango looked at her, tears forming in his eyes. He hugged Morticia, looking behind her shoulder towards Claire, her red eyes full of tears of joy that would soon fall down. Suddenly, as if she felt his tension, the little Zangoose pulled away from his hug and ran her claw under his eye, picking up his tears. He could see her cheerful expression and the smile that looked like his and Claire's together, bringing a new kind of charm on her cute face.
"What has she told you about me?" Shango whispered. He raised his hand and wiped his tears.
"She told me you're a hero..." she said with a tone of admiration in her voice, her eyes shining gleefully as she watched him. Shango felt completed at that moment - he could desire nothing more than being admired by his own children. Especially if they were unplanned. That truly meant something for him. Nothing made him feel more than a hero than the appreciation of little Morticia, who appeared to have been told of his story. He looked at Claire, who smiled in acknowledgement of his feelings, confirming that she had told her everything about him. Morticia was still looking at him in intense admiration.
"Have you flied a ship?" she asked him innocently. "Do ships fly?"
Shango laughed and clutched his daughter's petite shoulder. "No, they sail through the seas! But my friend made it fly..."
"Why did you make it fly?" she asked curiously, bringing her claw in her mouth to bite it, looking at him questioningly. He could tell she had been granted his spirit, a curious one with an inbuilt sense of deductive reasoning... he started to like Morticia. She would be able and willing to learn everything he taught her.
"I made it fly... to invade the enemy's base," he said, choosing his words carefully.
"Ooh... wait, is it the same ship that's in Podville right now?" she shouted, her whole face brimming with excitement and happiness.
"Yes... yes, it is. I bet you want to fly with it," he glanced at Claire, who nodded, smiling greatly.
"I've always wanted to fly!" Morticia shouted and started jumping up and down, waving her arms like a bird.
"Then, let's go," He got up to his feet and motioned at Morticia to follow him.
"Is momma coming along?"
"She is," Shango said, throwing Claire a look full of love; he picked up his cloak and vambraces from the floor. Once he wore them, he grabbed Morticia's hand and led her out of the house, Claire following closely behind her daughter.
"What is that you are wearing... father?" Morticia asked him, looking at his cloak in awe. Shango figured the earlier he told her, the better.
"This is the cloak of the Phantom Dancer, Morticia." They walked down the hill, the morning breeze bringing the desired aura.
"I know you are the Phantom Dancer... but what is he?"
Shango gave her an intense look to get her full attention. "He is the one who bears the burden of cleansing this world from those who seek to exploit others, those with ill intentions... he is the protector of the weak, though sometimes, he needs to make sacrifices. One day, you will also wear this cloak..."
"I will?" she asked, braiding her hands together and looking at him in awe.
"You will..."
The end
