[Pokémon] Tales of the Hashashin: the Phantom Dancer and the Endarkened Ones

Chapter 6: The Return of the Hashashin



Three years had passed since the return of Shango Maverick in Hesperia, with no major or important events taking place. He had already become a nobleman that attended the Ionian council on the King's behalf. King Eoleo Nagrand had given up his attempts to manipulate the darkstar's immense long ago, and Shango would never find what he intended to do with him. Much to his disappointment, early the first year of knowing her, Princess Rosa was secretly sent in Erca. He truly had forgotten about her and the business with the darkstar, as well as the Hashashin, and had focused on the Ionian Verdict and the King's demands. The hooded figure of his dreams had also disappeared from his subconscious.

He was already richer than Ascendio Nome, but he found out riches were not suiting him; he missed the days of the Seeker greatly. Meanwhile, his friendship with Tristana had grown strong. Him and the fiery spirit would never part ways, although they didn't even know why they were stuck together. They had just found the friend they always wanted in each other. Plus, Shango found her company quite useful, as she had taught him how to use the technique of flamethrower, although she seemed unable to use any kind of hostile ability of that sort. Her advice seemed to be accurate and her words of comfort always effective; this was proven when they were going through difficulties with the King's temper and demands.

If we take a look at Shango from the political view of Ionia, he had become an admirable celebrity in Ionia, but his fame stopped when he abruptly vanished from the world. He was last seen attending an Ionian council; it was only finished by night, and he was forced to walk to his turf by then, as reported by the other members of the council. Various assumptions were made, but the fact that he was once threatened by the Hashashin was not brought up by the Nagrands, who were well aware of that.

But this is the tale of Shango, so we shall be seeing this through his eyes. How it really happened. He was slowly pacing through the trade square, observing the lighthouse which could not be opened by any kind of method the specialists used. It was then when he realised the Infernape he had seen three years ago was standing across the square, staring at him. The pair of red eyes was behind the threatening Pokemon as well. Shango turned around to see the familiar Accelgor appearing from the shadows. More Pokemon appeared from the dark around the square, including the incredibly powerful dragon known as Nightingale. Next to the Infernape stood a female Zoroark, species that Shango nor any Hesperian or Stygian had seen before. With his pupils dilated, he spotted a figure coated in black was blending in with the shadows amongst the Pokemon that had surrounded them; he realized it was a tall Pokemon wearing a black hood and cloak so that his body was covered entirely. Not a single clue was given about his species. The only thing Shango could tell was that he was tall and bulky, much more than himself.

"Shango Maverick," spoke that particular Pokemon in a rough and deep masculine voice, walking towards him with heavy footsteps that made strange sounds as what appeared to be claws hit the cobblestone of the square. He was forced to look up into the impenetrable darkness of the hood. "It's nice to finally meet you. We have heard so much about you."

"What do you want?" asked Shango coldly, baring his fangs. All of the Hashashin could stare through him with their piercing eyes. He was not feeling safe without the Seeker's hood, but he hadn't wore it in a long time; Tristana was invisible, flying above, but she could help none. He threw her a quick glance, warning her to stay close.

"Information, of course," said the mysterious hooded Pokemon and laughed. His laugh seemed old and friendly, in a way. He appeared to be their leader, . "Have you any knowledge regarding some... darkstar?" he whispered.

Shango thought he was probably too important for them to kill him. Stay hidden, he directed his thoughts to Tristana, whose eyes had become large as she was on the verge of crying. He pitied her full of concern face. He came to the decision he firstly thought as most viable one: fight back. Jerking his body back, he charged at the Infernape; he saw him, he was sure of that, yet he remained unmoved. Much to Shango's surprise, he went right through the flaming Pokemon as if it was only an image. He fell abruptly on the ground and darkness immediately engulfed him like a mist; something landed heavy on his head and he was thrown unconscious.



When Shango opened his eyes, he felt truly sick. He slowly started to comprehend with his environment. A bed. Good start, he thought to himself. A window where the sunlight entered from. A blue carpet of extraordinary beauty, unknown to him - but he could tell it was probably Stygian, from its grey color. A wooden door in the far end of the small room with the white, worn out walls he was into. He heard Tristana speaking to his mind, giving him a bright idea of dealing with the Hashashin. He then remembered what happened in the Ionian trade square: he was kidnapped by the Hashashin, if the mysterious Pokemon in the hood and the rest who surrounded him in the square weren't a dream.

Suddenly, the sound of the door that got unlocked cracked in, and when it opened, the Zoroark he had clearly seen in the square entered, holding a piece of brown food on her hands. Her appearance only proved his assumption wrong - this was all real. He preferred himself to fight, but strangely, her otherwise wild face seemed friendly.

"Hello," she said in a cheerful voice, as if she was truly happy Shango was there. The Zangoose only stayed at bed and tilted his head, eyeing her confused. He had to play this right.

"I brought you some food," she approached him and gave him what she was holding. "It's chocolate." Shango was surely hungry, but he took the piece of chocolate with slow movements, still staring at the Zoroark. He was still staring at her when he ate it.

"Who are you?" he asked, in a convincingly confused tone. "Who am I?" he asked, looking at his hands, then around him. It was like the Zoroark's face was hit by a tidal wave; Shango enjoyed the effects of his acting, but kept himself from grinning.

"You mean..." she muttered, observing him, "that you don't know who you are?"

"No..." he said plainly. "Where am I?"

"Excuse me," she said with a dark expression and hurried out of the room; she didn't bother locking the door. Shango silently thanked Tristana for the idea she gave him. He was sure the spirit was above him right now, smiling proudly as she always was when proven useful. The Hashashin would have massive trouble with the amnesia; he chuckled at the thought. That would give him time to escape.

Still feeling kind of dizzy, he walked outside the room into a hall. Nothing special was there, only some drawer that contained strange garments. As Shango heard voices from the other room, he perked up his pointy ears.

"He's lost his memory, apparently..." said the voice that belonged to the female Zoroark.

"Perhaps it is better that way." said Nightingale.

"No, you fools. Without his memory, he knows nothing of this darkstar!" this was their leader, Shango was sure of that. The voice was the same as the tall Pokemon's he talked to in the square.

"You misunderstood what I said, Master," said Nightingale, slightly irritated. "What I meant was, if we build him to be an Hashashin, he will be on our side when he truly remembers. Besides, he truly is an Hashashin."

A pause in the conversation, silence from the other room. Shango did not know if things could get any more complex. He, an Hashashin? Tristana's flames flared upwards as her heartbeats quickened along with his.

"Y... you've got quite the idea, Nightingale. Since when are you so bright?"

Shango heard footsteps, so he took a garment outside the drawer and adopted a clueless expression as he holded it up and observed it. It appeared to be a white cloak with a hood attached onto it, but it was very different to the Verdict's Seeker uniform. Yet, it was cool to touch, and he bet he would look cool under it.

The door of the room opened; the tall Pokemon in the black hoody lowered his head to pass through the doorstep. He stared at the Zangoose looking around, seemingly lost. Shango turned his green eyes to him in his most innocent look.

"Greetings," he said with his eyebrows slightly raised, having a foolish smile on his face.

The Zoroark and the Hydreigon were right behind their "Master", with slightly worried expressions, as if Shango was a time bomb that would go off any minute. The matter of the darkstar seemed too important - perhaps it was wrong of Shango to never attempt to steal it from the King.

"Hello, little fella. Are you aware of who you are?" the Master asked in the same friendly voice he used back in the square. It was the kind of voice you'd expect a frail yet wise old man to have, who is absolutely harmless. It set something in Shango's mind off. How could the Master of the Hashashin be so... friendly? The man seemed almost as if he had good intentions.

Shango shook his head negatively in response, while trying to push away his thoughts so he could bring them up later.

"You are the last of the Mavericks, Shango Maverick."

"The last of the Mavericks?" asked the Zangoose with genuine interested mixed with curiosity and confusion.

"Exactly," spoke Nightingale. "The Mavericks were once the most powerful family of the Hashashin..."

Shango opened his eyes wide. He, an Hashashin? There was no way. They were definitely trying to trick him, as they had said before. But why would they lie about his entire family? He pulled himself together, trying to get over the shock and muster all of his patience and calm.

"Hashashin? What is this? And where is the rest of my family now?" he asked in the same convincing, confused look.

The Master crossed his arms, which appeared to be a lot smaller proportionally with the rest of his body. He glanced back at the other Hashashins. The Zoroark stepped forward.

"We, the Hashashin, are an organization dedicated to preserving the peace and justice over the Stygian natives that were forced under the Dark Cult's rule."

Yeah, that's the original definition, when they first formed four hundred years ago, Shango thought sarcastically. Nightingale floated next to his master with a small grin. "As for your family, I disposed all of them. They were traitors."

Shango tried his best to hide anger for the statement, as he detected no lie in his voice. Nightingale had done what he just said, and he was proud of it, he could tell by the way he was grinning. Shango's eyes flashed with the darkest of emotion: hatred. So it was all true: that's where he originated from, the Hashashin. They operated mostly in Stygia, and the river which brought him to Ionia and into Ascendio's hands was beginning from Mt. Aegis, which was in Stygia. He wondered what had happened and he was thrown into the river - it could have to do with his family being 'traitors'. Either way, he was going to find it all out here.

"Traitors?" he managed to ask with a trembling voice, forgetting to ask what the Dark Cult was; thankfully, nobody noticed.

"Indeed," said the Master. "They dared to commit incest amongst the families of the Hashashin; your grandmother from the side of your mother was a Cortez, your mother was an Ancelotti and your father was the only Maverick to survive the Ionian Verdict's assault to our stronghold in the Ishtero Monasteries," he stated, paused and took a deep breath as if he was relishing those events and facts. Shango smirked his eyes, sensing that the words of the man before him were clouded - it was quite possible that he was lying. "According to the Laws of the Five Families, nobody and under no circumstance is to mix the bloodlines - but your parents and grandparents did, and the result is right in front of us. You, my boy, carry the legendary blood of three of our families. We were not quite aware of your existance, until recently..."

Shango looked at him with his mouth half opened. Too much information to take in, but that was to be expected.

"You do understand, what this means, of course. You have many family members amongst our ranks. In fact, three fifths of our people," his voice was heard as if he smiling.

Arceus, or whoever is in charge, must be joking with me, Shango thought as he looked at the Master in disbelief. A weird thought crossed Shango's mind. "Am I related to you?"

The Master laughed for a while. "No. I am Ignacio Phylax. The Phylax's are one of the two families that are left unspoiled by incest." Shango couldn't grasp why the mixing of the families wasn't allowed. "However, this gal over here," said the Master, pointing at the Zoroark, "is your cousin. Her name is Crystal Ancelotti."

Crystal gave him a hearty smile that greatly resembled to his, as he shockingly realized just now. Shango's world started falling apart as each passing moment, something confirmed his connection to the Hashashin. "What species is she?" he asked with curiosity. All of the Hashashin laughed, as if it was an inside joke.

"She is a Zoroark, boy," said the Master. "We consider Zoroarks sacred masters of the art of assassination - their body's structure and the ability to create illusions easily place them on top tiers of the Hashashin. The greatest of assassins were Zoroarks. Chantalai Ancelotti himself, the one who founded the Hashashin, also our legendary hero and mentor, was a Zoroark. This kind of species is the characteristic of the Ancelotti family; each family has one, except yours truly. The Mavericks were mostly random Pokemon we recruited to our ranks due to the respect they showed us."

Each piece of information was a treasure for Shango, but he had a hard time accepting it. "Why were the Mavericks so powerful, then?"

A moment of silence fell amongst the Hashashin, who exchanged nervous glances. Finally, the Master decided to speak. "You'll come to know, eventually," he said mysteriously.

"Which are the rest of the families and their characteristics?" Shango asked quickly. The questions he had seemed countless.

"The Hashashin were formed by the last of the Ancelottis at that time, Chantalai. He recruited two more families in that era - the Phylax's, and the Cortez's. The symbol of the Phylax's is a Salamence, as the first Phylax member, Richard Phylax, was one of these dragons. As for the Cortez's, it was the Zangoose - you got that trait from father, I suppose. At a later time, all of the Dawsons joined our ranks to fight against the Dark Cult; their symbol is the Weavile. And then, the Mavericks."

"I see..." as an amnesiac, he wondered what to ask next. All this information had gotten his head spinning. "What is my part in all of this? Why am I still alive, if incest is a crime amongst the Hashashin?"

"Because..." the Master paused, apparently thinking. "We decided that you could be proven useful."

"Useful, how?" his sincere tone woud keep fooling them for a long time... because after hearing all this, he intended to find out more, which meant he had to stay more.

"Oh, but we just told you. You combine three of our bloodlines. Truthfully, after our consideration on the possibilities, you just might be the most powerful Hashashin in existence."

Shango's eyes widened in the coming of such news. He didn't know how to respond to any of this, only question them. So that is why he vastly outmatched his peers back in the academy, simply because he was the son of three of the Hashashin families? What was so special about them, anyway? Is that why he was able to keep up with Bart the Shadow, a seemingly experienced and deadly Hashashin who was double his age?

"Well, I'd bet my claws you have many questions," said the Master. "How about you follow your cousin here? I am sure her knowledge will suffice to quench all of your questions."

Shango slowly nodded, eyeing Crystal, who was smiling cheerfully. How did I get myself into this?

Chapter 7: Ravenscare

Crystal Ancelotti took Shango out of the house he was located. It was on top of a hill in a green, open field; there was a single tree that shed its shadow on the roof of that house. They were now walking down the hill towards a peaceful village with stone houses that had roofs with tiny red tiles and small chimneys which were smoking.

"Where exactly are we, Crystal?" asked Shango with the same genuine interest.

"This is Podville Town. Southeast Stygia. These lands are under Hotorian command."

"Oh... what do you mean by Hotorian command?"

"The Hotori are one of the eight tribes that inhabit Stygia, but I won't list them all for you," the Zoroark said with a subtle smile; she winked at him. "Even I had trouble learning them!"

Shango felt the wind blew through his fur, the scent of flowers entering his nose. The feelings of freedom and happiness he felt were unexplainable, but fear for the future was a shadow that engulfed all of them. He felt the urge to ask more about his family, about his father, about his mother, but he felt like it was not the right time. His questions would be probably reported to command, anyway, so he chose not to risk anything.

"What are we doing here?" he incquired with an innocent expression that fit an eight year old boy. Crystal stared at him.

"You only care about what you are doing here. Don't ask too many questions. The Hashashin want you to focus on your own work."

Shango rolled his eyes. "Then what am I doing here?" Good question, he said to himself. The town was getting closer and closer now; they entered a sand path that led straight in it.

"There is a Saloon - Ravenscare - that belongs to us somewhere in the town. A part of our crew is waiting for you there to meet them."

"And you?"

"I'll stay here," she said and suddenly sat down on the grass on the side of the road. Shango started laughing, clutching his belly.

"I'm serious," she stated. Shango got serious as well, under her meaningful expression. "And don't you try to run away," she said.

"Alright, bet'cha I'll find it."

And he dashed off towards the town.


***


The town proved to be far more great than Shango had imagined. All the small houses created comb-like paths that were so narrow, only two Pokemon Shango's size could pass through them at the same time. Tristana was sitting on his left shoulder, talking non-stop.

"... and you should escape when the night arrives, if you don't, you--"

"Hey! Zip it up there, I'm trying to find my way to the main street!"

Shango had accidentally entered one of the narrow paths, and now he couldn't get out. He was slightly pissed off, but at the same happy - he had never been in Stygia, and getting to know more places was interesting. He'd always wanted to travel around the world.

"Oh, why didn't you say so?" said the Victini and giggled. "Try the roofs, Shango."

The Zangoose stared at a wall and ran towards it with great speed; he lept and kicked it, launching himself high enough to grab the end of a roof and pull himself up.

"Wall kick, impressive," Tristana said in a playful manner.

"You better learn some tricks for battle, or I'm selling you for trash in the nearest merchant," replied Shango in the same manner, but she fell silent.

Shango didn't have a good view of the town from there; the houses were not particularly tall and were about the same height. The feel of that red stone under his feet was rather strange and he thought of geting back on the ground, but his eyes caught something moving in the next roof; he jerked his head to see a wild Starly flapping its wings. Shango would deem that as his meal if he was hungry, but the chocolate Crystal had given him kept him good, so he decided to leave the little bird alone.

The Pokemon of the area would surely know of the Ravenscare Saloon, Shango thought, so he descended from the rooftops and asked the first Pokemon he came across - a Breloom.

"Do you maybe know where the Ravenscare Saloon is?"

The Breloom looked at him in disbelief. "We don't have any Ravenscare Saloon in this town," he said and paused, examining him. "You must be new around here..." then he walked away. Shango frowned and continued his way down the main street. Not many Pokemon were walking around; as it was a relatively quiet town, Shango wondered if they knew how to party.

An enticing smell found its way into Shango's nose, and he jerked his head towards it with his eyes wide opened. "Flowers!" Tristana screamed, Shango staring at her. "No! You'll set the whole town on fire like last time!"

"You're mean, that's not true!" she shouted in his ear, but they both laughed anyway, until the Zangoose's eyes fell on what seemed to be a restaurant. A Drifblim was standing amongst the flowers of the garden outside the building; the Pokemon was staring at Shango as if he was one of his family members.

"Are you looking for the Ravenscare Saloon?"

It was a psychic voice directed towards him. The Pokemon around ignored the Drifblim as if it didn't exist. He realized no one heard the Drifblim but him, as it spoke into his mind. The Zangoose nodded and glanced at Tristana next to him that had apparently heard the voice too. She looked at him with her big blue eyes and then vanished from sight.

"Right this way, Hashashin," spoke the Drifblim with the same ominous tone. It raised one of its four yellow-tipped limbs and pointed inside the restaurant. Shango slowly walked towards that direction, eyeing the ghost Pokemon with his eyebrows slightly raised in suspicion.

Voices were suddenly heard from inside as he walked in; he felt like he entered an entirely different world. There was a room with stairs leading up, and a a wooden bar filled with all kinds of bottles. The bartender was a Metang, which was right now skilfully using its psychic powers to pour the liquid into glasses. He didn't appear to notice Shango, who looked around to see empty tables. Above the bar, there was a giant sign, 'Ravenscare'.

"How could that guy not be aware of this Saloon? He appeared to be from town," Shango whispered over to his shoulder, where the fiery spirit was sitting.

"Maybe this Saloon is only permitting access to the Hashashin!" Tristana whispered back in an excited tone.

"That explains how the Drifblim knew me," Shango replied after some thought. Suddenly, Crystal came down from the stairs on the left side of the Saloon.

"Cousin!"

He stared at her surprised. "How did you get here before me?"

She chuckled. "You're too slow, Shango. Come upstairs, I have a couple of friends I'd like you to meet."

I wonder if the rest of the Hashashin are as friendly as this girl. What reason do they have they to be friendly? They are murderers, Shango thought as he followed his Zoroark cousin upstairs, his heart beating with anticipation and curiosity. Maybe I'll meet more of my relatives...

"That Metang in the bar," Crystal started speaking, "isn't one of us, so you really keep your yap shut about our business when talking to him. Capiche?"

"Huh? Then what's he doing here?"

"Let's just say one of us knows how to control minds. And if it gets any idea of what we're planning upstairs, some one will have to erase his memory."

Shango was appaled. How could they use a Pokemon like this? Is this cruel, or what? spoke Tristana into his mind; he could feel her floating above his head now. He was ready to reply, but they reached the second floor. That's where the voices Shango heard before came from.

The room was entirely made of wood, just like the ground floor. Four tables with four chairs around each of them were spread, forming a circle around the center of the room. Four Pokemon were sitting on the nearest table; Shango didn't look at them carefully - he hadn't forgotten to act clueless. But the second he laid his eyes on one of them, he instantly recognized him. The Infernape that appeared in the streets of Ionia was staring at him, grinning in the same manner that revealed all of his yellow teeth. Shango wished he could ask him how he had disappeared when he tried to hit him back in Ionia, but that would give him away. Next to him was the familiar sinister bug Pokemon, Bart the Shadow; he was staring at the Zangoose intently, but with no apparent bad intentions. The other two Pokemon on the table, an Ambipom and a Bisharp, seemed to be observing him from eye to toe.

Shango assumed they would all know that he had lost his memory already; he wouldn't know how to react if Bart confronted him. It was possible that the guy still wanted revenge for the fiasco at the Scorching Lands. The Accelgor didn't look like he had forgotten, but at the same time, his look didn't seem hostile, and Shango was thankful. Bart had changed little in these 3 years. He remembered his last words, which hinted that the Hashashin would return. And that they have, and here he was.

"Shango!" Crystal exclaimed in a cheerful tone, "meet my friends and family, Pasqual," she said, looking over at the Infernape, "Bartholomew," the Accelgor slowly nodded as their eyes met, "Enzo," the Ambipom waved one of his tails, "and Vincenzo." The Bisharp nodded with a welcoming smile.

Enzo and Vincenzo, eh? Crystal looked at him as if she read his thoughts. "They're called the Dawson Brothers around here."

"Oh... nice to meet you all."

Vincenzo stood up with a metallic sound caused by his powerful steel feet. "A pleasure to meet you, Shango Maverick," then he proceeded to shake hands with him. As Shango looked in his black eyes, he wondered how many Pokemon that seemingly nice Hashashin had destroyed. His curious and kind stare, mixed with his tiny welcoming smile made him doubt his membership in the brotherhood; though, now he realized, the lot of them didn't seem scary at all. None of them, at least, except Nightingale. Tristana must have been thinking exactly the same, because he sensed a bit of disbelief from her part.

"Yeah! Nice to meet you, man," shouted Enzo, launching himself from his chair, landing next to his brother, in front of Shango; the Ambipom grabbed his other hand and started shaking it vigorously. When they finally let go of him, Shango glanced at the other too who were rooted to their chairs. The Infernape named Pasqual had something really odd about him, something Shango had detected back in Ionia. As if space around him was virtually... challenged. The feeling he was giving was extremely unnatural and mysterious, though his stare wasn't exactly mean, but rather... curious.

As for Bart next to him, he was probably still upset about losing the fight before. Or he just didn't believe handshakes were necessary, like Shango did.

Pasqual finally stood up as well and extended his arm. Shango reached for it, and the Infernape gripped his hand with great force, as if he was trying to break it. He shut his eyes while Shango looked at their hands - something was very wrong here; his hand didn't feel how it looked like exactly. Where there were the blue fingers of the Infernape, he felt fur. On top of that, he felt as if his mind was being messed with. Tristana's subtle thoughts transfered to his mind: was uncle Pasqual invading his brain?

"Have they told you who I am?" he asked. His voice surely hadn't been used in months. The Infernape took his eyes from Shango to look questioningly over at Crystal, who nodded her head negatively. Then, he looked back at Shango with a sense of amusement on his face. "I'm your uncle. Mentor of the junior Hashashin."

Shango raised his eyebrows in surprise. So the strange Pokemon was his uncle. He wondered if he was powerful - he looked old, yet still in shape. That's what made him mentor, probably. Uncle Pasqual turned around, his hands behind his back. He walked over to the window of Ravenscare Saloon and looked down.

"Do you know how the Hashashin work?"

"No, I do not," he replied in a pompous voice that apparently sounded rather funny to the Hashashin, who all chuckled, except his uncle. His mentor turned around and faced him, having lost his grin.

"Some call us brutal killers. Some others mercenaries. Hah! That's exactly what we want them to see. We are an absolute, independent organization which looks for its own survival, but mainly, we are the pursuers of liberty and peace. We cleanse the land from the filthy animals that take control of it by eliminating them," he paused to take a deep breath and started coughing slightly. When he stopped, he spoke again. "Clearly we cannot work in the public eye - especially our trainees, they can't. So, we disguise ourselves as street performers. Yes," he said, seeing Shango's surprise. "Our circus enterprise is far too grand for us to be suspected. Ravenscare is known all around Stygia for its shows."

Shango grabbed his chin and looked on the floor, wondering if that was just Pasqual's perception of things, or that was the reality of the brotherhood. A realization emerged from his subconcious: there were street performers in Ionia, and the scary part of it was that he had once worked with them to get the attention of the girl he had set his eyes on. Could they be the Hashashin? And what were they doing in Ionia?

Ravenscare was the name of the shop, and the name of the circus enterprises as well. "So I'll have to be a street performer?"

"Just like us," said the Infernape with his yellow teeth flashing in a grin.

"But I don't know any tricks." He could only balance on a tight rope without much effort, and that had gotten old in Ionia - too many Pokemon had great balance, as they were beings of nature.

"We'll teach you!" shouted Crystal, like they were about to go on a grand adventure in the end of the world. Enzo grabbed Shango's hand and examined it.

"You're agile! Maybe you could be an acrobat like me and Bart here!"

Shango smirked his eyebrows as he looked over at the Shadow. He didn't seem like an acrobat at all, though he had proven himself to be capable of high jumps. All those membranes attached onto his body looked like they would fall off any second.

"Hands off!" Crystal pushed the Ambipom away from Shango and clutched him. "He's gonna be a firebreather, we need one of those anyway. You can breath fire Shango, can't you?" she asked and pushed him with her elbows, winking.

"How'd you know?" he asked at first, but then realized his mistake. "I mean, can I breath fire...?"

Tristana's invisible flame next to him got more intense; he was glad nobody else was feeling her heat. The Victini was simply reminding him not to give away that she had taught him how to use flamethrower.

"Did you know, that as your Voidborn relatives, we have access to certain information of yourself, as you have in ours?" Bart finally spoke. Shango was now worried - did they also have access in his memories? Then they would be able to see that all this was an act. But how come they didn't try it? Or, maybe they did and found nothing for some odd reason.

"No, I didn't know... so what am I doing as a firebreather?"

Pasqual faced him and spoke. "You are simply a trainee right now... you'll be collecting valuable information for us. Move up our ranks, and you'll be an assassin. After the rank of the assassins... you become a Shadow Hunter."

Seeing Shango's troubled expression, his mentor continued. "The Shadow Hunters are the elite of the Hashashin - the ones our Master uses only for the most difficult of missions. Those are truly powerful Hashashin who live up to the world's reputation for us. There are currently eight Hashashin Shadow Hunters..." said the Infernape and looked over at Bart, "Bartholomew here being one of them."

Shango thought this Bart guy never seized to amaze him. How many other surprises was the Accelgor hiding? Pasqual crossed his arms and looked at Shango with his piercing eyes.

"Today, our little Saloon here will be hosting a show. We suspect the arrival of a spy; the Dark Cult is suspecting the location of the place. We simply kill the spy before they report back to the Dark Cult."

"But won't that confirm their assumptions about Ravenscare?" asked Shango. Since when the Hashashin fought the Dark Cult? The others laughed.

"You're clever, but we've got this one covered. Our man inside the Dark Cult informs us that the spy has not stated that Ravenscare could be one of our possible hideouts - meaning that if we kill him on the streets, nobody will ever know..." Shango liked the Infernape's dark tone, somehow. They had obviously thought of everything. Much as he'd like to avoid to kill, he couldn't see a way of getting himself out of this; he would have to play along for now.

"So, am I to track down the spy?"

"Yeah," said Crystal, patting him on the shoulder, "I'll help you."

"Wait, so you know who they are...?" asked Shango with a slightly disturbed expression. The Infernape chuckled.

"Of course we do... There's nothing gettin' past us, boy. You should keep that in mind."

Shango wondered if his words held an implication. That could mean his memories were in danger.

"For your information, little cousin," Crystal was saying, "you should lure your target away from the bar..."

"How am I to do that? I don't even know who he is!"

"You can find out easily. As for luring them out, a simple threatening note will do..."

Shango threw her an examining look full of his own doubts. I've never used a threatening note, he thought but he kept himself from saying it the last moment. It could give him away.

"After the note... what do I do?"

"You kill him. Simply, with no witnesses."

Shango lowered his head, concerned with this task. He had killed before, many times, both wild and normal Pokemon. The former ones he hunted in the forest, and the latter ones were mostly outlaws and pirates of the southern seas; in other words, they deserved their fate. He never felt comfortable taking a life, but he couldn't do otherwise when he was working as a Needler for the Verdict. Tristana never liked it either and she was always trying to prevent him from hurting any Pokemon; he knew he would have to put up with her now.


Ravenscare Saloon was filled with Pokemon in just a few hours. Apart from citizens having a good time in the seemingly innocent Saloon, all the Hashashin he'd met in Podville were there. His eyes ran through the crowd examiningly, noticing the Pokemon that had gathered in the middle of the room: they were playing music, and their singers were Chatots. Tristana was flying above him, invisible, clutching his ears together as he had told her, to prevent him from losing his focus from the cacophony. She, along with him, observed the Pokemon inside the room, but they were seeing none that was above suspicion. Uncle Pasqual had laid back to his chair, paying no attention to him, while Crystal was glancing at him every now and then. She winked, smiling slyly, and he retracted his look as to not seem like he wasn't working. Once his eyes were off of the young Zoroark, they fell onto a Toxicroak on the other side of the room. The Pokemon was looking everywhere except the singer Chatots, where everyone was supposed to look; it had a curious look. A curious look that would soon get him killed, as Shango thought; he had locked his eyes on the table in which the Pokemon was sitting. He got up and subtly walked around the tables, taking the hidden note off the fur of his belly. It slipped into Tristana's hands, but nobody saw the movement, not even the Hashashin.

The invisible spirit flew over the Toxicroak, who was staring at Uncle Pasqual at the moment. The Infernape was grinning back at him, showing his yellow teeth, almost welcoming him. The letter suddenly appeared in front of him, as a shadow got past behind him - Shango's shadow. The threatening letter seemed to work, because the Toxicroak's expression changed the more he read; he looked behind him, in the dark corner, but nobody was there. He looked around, at all of the Pokemon of the room, to see the table of the Hashashin - he could tell it was them by the Infernape who was looking at him funny. He got up, keeping his calm, and walked over to the stairs; seeing as the Hashashin made no move to kill or at least catch him - they wouldn't be so stupid, as to do it in front of so many people - he normally went down the stairs, looking behind him occasionally. When he was at the last step, he glanced behind him one more time. The Metang bartender looked at him funny and turned around to manage the drinks and the glasses; once the Toxicroak turned around, his eyes were locked with the green, emerald like ones of Shango's. Blood rippled out of the throat and chest of the Pokemon, to fall on the red fur of the Zangoose in front of him; the Toxicroak fell forward, dead within seconds, only to be caught in Shango's arms. He let no blood stain the floor as he dragged him outside the shop silently.

When the bartender looked around questioningly, in a look as if he was lost, the weird Toxicroak was gone.


***


Shango heard hands clapping behind him; he turned around to see uncle Pasqual and Crystal, grinning at him. They were at the side of the road, next to the Saloon; the street was empty, as the night had arrived and all Pokemon of the town were resting in their houses, except those who were partying in Ravenscare, oblivious to the drama that had just went on outside it. Pasqual laughed and approached Shango, who had a plain expression on as if he didn't do anything great.

"Well done, boy... tell me, how did you know it was him?"

"He was looking around instead of having fun. And he looked at your table more than twenty times. That's what I call suspicious behavior."

"Haha! Yeah, you're right. But that doesn't prove anything."

"This does," Shango said and showed him a pendant with the symbol of the Dark Cult: the heart, being crossed by two cutlasses. The Infernape's shone as he locked eyes with it. "He was wearing it on the other side, so the symbol wasn't visible," he explained plainly.

"Shango," Crystal exclaimed, stepping next to him, "that was perfect, all of us said so - don't think they didn't, just because they keep quiet! They just don't like complimenting people!" she said, with a complaining tone that made Shango smile. He could imagine the Hashashin being a strict society.

"No blood behind, they kill was silent and quick... where did you learn all this?" she went on and he had to look away from her.

"Come on, Crystal," Pasqual exclaimed, "don't you see he's a natural?" the Infernape said with a shine of admiration hidden in his eyes and grin. But what caught Shango's attention wasn't the admiration. He knew he was admired by many people, even those he didn't like - like Jericho Santaros. But in the eyes of Pasqual, however uncanny as they seemed, he saw pride. He was proud of him. That was his truest reward, even though he didn't know the man; Tristana's heart beat strongly above his head, he could feel her warmth, as she could fully understand his thoughts.

"I would expect nothing more than the son of Alexander," Pasqual whispered, with a tone of sadness, as he patted Shango's shoulder.

"Alexander..." Shango whispered back questioningly. "Was that... my father?"

"And Alice was your mother," Crystal added, noticing how Shango looked as if each bit of information was as valuable as gold to him. "Alice was my mother's sister..."

"What... what happened to them?" Shango asked.

"They were sentenced to death," Pasqual said quickly and clutched his chest, inhaling. Crystal grabbed him worriedly.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yes... yes, I'm fine," Pasqual replied and took a few breaths. Shango raised his eyebrows, thinking all this was too important for Pasqual. Perhaps his parents were friends of the Pokemon. Crystal looked at him.

"Let's talk about something else. What did you do with the body?"

Shango looked down at his hands - the blood they had touched didn't stain his fur one bit, as they were already red. But they were also full of dirt. He pointed his black claw at the side of the road.

"He's buried seven feet underground."

"Wow!" Crystal exclaimed in admiration. "How did you do this...?"

"If you know how to dig, it's easy..." Shango replied with a warm smile.

"What if the Granbulls of the town find the body?" Pasqual asked in a skeptical tone.

"I burned it," the Zangoose readily replied, letting out a fiery breath as proof of his abilities; though, in truth, Tristana was the one who did the deed. Pasqual was excited and patted his back again, laughing cheerfully, as if he'd just spoken his first words. Now the Infernape seemed alot different from back in Ionia, Shango thought - he had changed so much.

"Well done, again, Shango. You've gotten your father's wits!"

Shango's chest filled with pride, even though he wasn't happy that he had taken a life. He'd just have to convince him to live with it for a while - many Pokemon died every day, what difference did it make if he was the killer, or somebody else? Besides, he always disliked the Dark Cult and their ways...

"Alright, then!" Pasqual exclaimed. "It's time for the Oath to the Hashashin!"

"Oath... to the Hashashin?" Shango asked, a bit worried. This didn't sound good, oh no, and Tristana flared up next to him. He needed to talk to her, right away, but he couldn't at this moment.

"Yes," Crystal said, "you'll be one of us for good, soon. At last... I've waited for this moment ever since I heard of you!"

"Wait," Shango said, thinking about his memory, "who was I... before I lost my memory?"

"Umm," Pasqual said, throwing a thunderous look at Crystal, who cowered; Shango almost laughed at her reaction. "You were... one of us, just not officially."

He speaks the truth, I feel, Shango conceded with his uncle. Now I'm one of them. No, I've always been.

The sun rose, dousing the village and the surrounding fields with light. Shango opened his eyelids and looked at the sleeping Zoroark next to him. She likes to sleep, he thought and chuckled. He slowly walked away, exiting the shadow of the tree; he was now going to talk to Tristana.

She appeared on his shoulder when he was at a safe distance away from his cousin. The Zangoose sat down and the Victini jumped in front of him.
"Shango, you can't do this!" she whispered, her tone and eyes giving away her desperation.

"Why not?" he asked her, slightly grinning.

"You've sworn to the Ionian Verdict! You can't... join them... you're not a killer!"

The pupils of his eyes were greatly dilated as he stared at her, thinking of her words. His grin had now disappeared.

"My parents were killers. But they had a sacred purpose, as the rest of the Hashashin. Don't you understand?"

Tristana sighed and tilted her head, observing Shango like a mother, rather than his friend. Shango continued. "I've found my origins now. I can't just escape..." he muttered, now looking down. She jumped on his shoulder again and stroked the fur of his cheek.

"Even if I did try to escape, I would be killed on the spot," he said as if he was almost sad, looking at her sideways. "Besides, there are some questions that need to be answered..." he said finally, looking forward in a dark expression. He was thinking about the deaths of his parents.

"Fine, Shango. I'll follow you wherever you go," Tristana said and flew in front of his face. A great smile appeared on the Zangoose face for a moment; then he perked up his ears to the direction of Crystal. Hide, Tristy, he thought, and his fairy vanished out of sight.

He heard Crystal approaching him. "Everything alright, co's?" she asked as she sat next to him. In front of them, Podville unfolded at the foot of the hill. The morning songs of the birds filled the area, but Shango wasn't in the mood - he'd rather eat those birds.

"Yeah, I'm alright, just a little nervous about the Oath..."

"Oy, don't worry about that!" she said, letting out a small laugh. Shango wondered how this Pokemon was an assassin, but he also had a feeling he would soon find out. "I was nervous, too, but it's nothin'," she told him.
They sat there for about half an hour; Crystal was humming along with the birds, and Shango was scratching the ground with one of the claws of his right hand. He could still feel the darkness he had channeled last night inside his hand - was it because of the darkstar? The move he had used was called 'Night Slash', or so Ascendio was telling him when he was little. It was the move that characterized the Hashashin, because all of them, regardless of their type and species, could use it.

"Why is everyone able to use Night Slash, Crystal?"

"Oh, it is the gift of our bloodline. I guess I can tell you now - we owe this power to the darkstar... Those who have been touched by it were able to manipulate the darkness of the Nether Plane in such way, so they can channel any kind of dark power. We, their descendants, are only able to use Night Slash," she said in a mysterious voice.

"What is a darkstar?" Shango asked in a fake confused look. He knew very well what it was. Part of it still lived inside him. But he was curious to hear the perception of the Hashashin.

"Not many Pokemon know of these gems outside the Hashashin... I am not supposed to know, either. I am just a good spy," she said and winked at him with her usual tricky smile. "They say the darkstars are the broken pieces of Arceus's Dark Plate. Can you believe it? I don't even know if Arceus exists..."
"What do they even do?" he asked with anxiety obvious in her voice. The Zoroark looked him inside his eyes.

"They corrupt, Shango. We, the true voidborn, originate from it, so only we are able to communicate with them - any other living flesh that touches it, gets vaporized in an instant. Nothing but ash as remains."
Shango remembered Princess Rosa informing him about all this the night after they escaped from the Fire Clan's camp. So, he was truly a voidborn, whatever that was.

"But where are the darkstars?"

"Nobody knows - historical records reveal multiple appearances of these gems in various time periods and locations, but all tracks have been lost. Our Master is searching desperately for one; it will give us the power to face the Dark Cult directly, he says. One thing is for sure - Chantalai Ancelotti once wielded one of these gems, when he was alive."

"... anyway, Shango. We need to get going."

Shango slowly nodded, the thought of the Oath returning to haunt his mind. They both got up and headed towards the house on the other hill.


***


"Shango Maverick, do you know why you're here?" asked the Master. As usual, he was covered in his black robes which hid any clue that would give away his species. Shango, however, was looking straight inside the hood.

"I am here to take the Oath," Shango replied in a plain tone. All the Hashashin he knew so far were in the room of the house he had woken up two days ago - Nightingale was levitating behind the Master, Crystal and Pasqual were standing next to Shango, and behind them, Bart the Shadow, Enzo, Vincenzo and the three fat ladies were watching them.

"And do you know what that means?" the Master asked in a rather serious tone Shango hadn't heard before. "It means that you are accepting our ethics, our goals and dreams as your own. It means that you will fight with the rest of us for the sake of liberty and justice. If you refuse... We will have to dispose of you, as you are already aware of many of our secrets."

"I will take the Oath, Master," said Shango. The towering figure of the Master approached him and put his hands on Shango's shoulders. He felt sharp claws on his fur, but he did not turn to look. As he looked inside the hood, he wondered why he was so important to this Master; would he attempt to make him remember about his past, or would he play along for now? That's what Shango would do, play along for now.

"Do you swear in your life, that you will be protecting our brotherhood and its secrets no matter the circumstances?"

"I swear in my life," said Shango fearlessly, putting his hand on his heart. The invisible Victini that was clutching his foot was brimming with fire and energy as her heart beat faster.

"Do you swear in your life, to work with the Hashashin for the rest of your life, and that you will never commit to an action againist them?"

"I do," Shango stated in the same tone. The cloaked Pokemon in front of him got hold of his hand, piercing his paw. Shango felt some kind of strange, undefined energy run through his veins when the Master touched him. Blood fell on the floor as the Master let go of him and raised his own bloodied claw in the air. "This is the evidence of your Oath," he whispered, but everyone heard him. He then motioned his other hand behind him, and Nightingale arrived, holding a silver emblem of the Hashashin and a red sash.

The Master grabbed those items and handed them to Shango. "These are the certificates of your Oath. You will be now bearing the symbol of the Hashashin."

Shango examined the symbol he had just received.

(-v-)

It's made of tristanite, Tristana informed him. Shango's green eyes reflected the symbol for a moment; he thought it greatly resembled the starting letter of the word Hashashin, in a way. He quickly tied the red sash around his waist and stuck the symbol of the Hashashin onto it.

"I hereby give you the code name 'Skidred' in hope that it will embrace your sharp claws," continued the Master. Skidred means 'sharp blade' in the language of the Precursors, whispered Tristana into his mind. It is an honourable name. Shango was about to ask her where she knew all this stuff, but then the Master turned to the others in the room.

"This is a historic day, brothers and sisters. Today, we officially baptised the descendant of three of the Hashashin bloodlines as one of us, disregarding the past of his recent ancestors and the law that states nobody is to mix the blood of our families. As the Master of our brotherhood, I have reconsidered his case and decided that it will not harm any of us to have him here. That, however, does not mean that the any of the Laws of the Five Families has ceased to apply."

They all slowly stood up. "You are dismissed," whispered the Master. Shango felt Pasqual pat his shoulder with his hot hand. He turned to face the Infernape, who was slightly grinning, just like the day when he saw him in the streets of Ionia. That day, he had seemed scary and threatening, but now he knew he had found a strong ally in him. At that moment, he questioned the rumours of the ethics of the Hashashin - they weren't truly evil. Nobody who knew them well could prove that, at least that's what Shango started to believe.

"What am I to do now, uncle?" he asked, smirking his eyebrows. Everyone else was leaving the house, just like that; maybe the Hashashin never considered any event of this sort sacred.

"When I get the chance, I'll teach you how to fight like an Hashashin. For now, do as your cousin says - you still have to prove that you are worth being called an Hashashin, boy," Pasqual said in his steel tone and patted Shango's shoulder again before going away. Crystal then commenced a hug attack that ended with both of them on the ground.

"Bravo, cousin! You make me so proud!" she shouted cheerfully and grabbed his cheeks.

"Hey! Get off'a me!" Shango was laughing, as the rest of the Hashashin remaining in the room were. He was not aware that this kind of happiness existed.

Chapter 10: The Hooded Figure and the Altar of Shadows

Shango and Crystal were heading towards Podville Town under Karnos's midnight light. The sky looked like a pool of blood, but the Pokemon of this world were used to such sight every night and before dawn. The Zoroark was staring at the red planet with a kind of attention Shango hadn't seen before.

"What's so special about Karnos?" he asked her, observing her at the same moment.

"It's where the Gods of Black and White live. That's where the Nether Plane draws its power from - like the sea draws power from the moon," she replied without looking at him. "And the stronger the Nether Plane is, the stronger the dark-types are, and of course, we, the voidborn."

"Nether Plane?"

"Yes, Nether Plane. The void that consumes our world. Some say it's infinity, but I dunno about it..."

"I see," said Shango and glanced to his shoulder where Tristana was standing, invisible. He couldn't wait to talk to her; but he couldn't reveal her now - he would have to explain where he found her.

They entered the quiet and peaceful town, their steps echoing in the streets as they progressed on the sand path.

"Is 'Crystal' some kind of code name?"

"No. they didn't give me any code names," she responded with her eyes fixed on somewhere ahead. Shango looked as well to see a wheeled stand parked in front of a fence at the side of the road. Two torches stuck inside the ground were shedding their light across the empty street.

"What's this?" he whispered, with his guard up. The Zoroark started laughing.

"It's the vessel that gets us around. Ravenscare!" she said and pointed at a sign above the stand. The name Ravenscare was drawn with pretty flowers... and a Salamence destroying them with fire. As her loud voice was heard (probably all around the neighborhood), two familiar shady silhouettes appeared behind the stand.

"'Hey, you two," shouted one of them. Shango recognized Enzo the Ambipom; the one next to him was the Bisharp named Vincenzo. "You rookies ready to have some fun tonight?!" shouted the Ambipom, just as loud as Crystal. Vincenzo next to him buried his face in his palm and muttered, "oh, brother..."

Before Shango could protest, or even ask what kind of 'fun' Enzo was talking about, Crystal nodded vigorously.

"Yeah! Let's get going! Where to?"

"Horlon Forest, it's the Druid Festival Under the Full Moon!"

Shango raised his claw in the height of his face in a questioning manner, "wait, what will we be doing there?"

"Celebrating your promotion, I suppose," said Vincenzo in an expression that revealed boredom. Shango didn't take offense - he was bored of celebrations too, but in this particular case, this was good. It meant he would get to know them better. "C'mon, hop in!" shouted Enzo, motioning to them with his tails. Shango got aboard the moving stand, feeling kind of ridiculous at first.

"How does this thing move?" he asked Crystal, full of curiosity.

"You'll see," said Crystal and winked at him, right before Enzo started shouting again. He seemed to be the talkative type.

"Ramos! Ramos, wake up you lazy fatass!" the Ambipom was looking at something beyond the fence behind us, something that Shango couldn't see.

A giant bear escalated from the ground almost immediately; an Ursaring was standing behind the fence, where it was sleeping moments ago. Shango's eyes opened wide, trying to grasp the might of that Pokemon. The small black eyes were giving off the feeling that this bear was wild, and that it had destroyed many Pokemon before. But when he spoke in a deep, calm voice, Shango was assured that he was a good Pokemon.

"Somebody called?" he asked, looking at the four Pokemon aboard the stand. "Oh, I get it... rolling duty again."

He jumped above the fence, landing on the other side with a small quake. Shango glanced around, fearing they would wake up the innocent citizens. At the same time, he wondered how this mighty bear ended up doing "rolling duty" for the Hashashin.

"Who are you?" he heard the deep voice of Ramos ask. He jerked his head towards the bear, who had just noticed him.

"He is Shango Maverick, our newest assassin. I suggest you get moving, or we'll lose the Festival" Vincenzo said in a mild tone.

The Ursaring grunted as he turned around to grab the rope that was on the ground next to the stand; he tied it around his waist, and when he started moving ahead, the whole stand with the sign of Ravenscare started moving. Shango hadn't experienced something like that, as he had never gotten on a vehicle before. Who would want to ride a moving thing when you could run? Tristana seemed to like the feeling, and he sensed she was smiling and was cheerful in days, he could tell by her pulse. He ended up smiling as well, trying to relax and enjoy the ride. Enzo chuckled, patting the moving stand and glancing at Shango. "Latest technology, bro. Don't tell me you thought we were gettin' 'round the towns, on foot?"

Crystal and Enzo clutched each other and started laughing like he had just said an extremely funny joke. Shango's smile was enlarged, seeing them, and when his eyes met with Vincenzo's, he could clearly read his thoughts: they're crazy. So, they smiled at each other, forming a secret, unspoken alliance. Only then Shango noticed the whip that hung folded from the Bisharp's belt, and he wondered what its use was. He decided it wasn't the time to ask, and he turned his head to watch the scenery of the moving trees as Ramos pulled them through the street - soon, they would be out of Podville and into the forest on the northern side, now deeply inside the Empire of Stygia.

"What is this festival you mentioned?" Shango asked suddenly.

"The Hotori Druids gather in one of the ponds of Horlon forest every month," Vincenzo proceeded to explain, "they honor nature and the wonders of our world."

"And what will be doing there?"

"Giving a show, of course!" yelled Crystal, excited at the very thought. Then she looked at her peers. "Shango, you'll be our firebreather. Enzo here will making acrobatics and Vincenzo will be taming the 'wild' beast that is Ramos!"

She pronounced wild sarcastically, and Shango thought it was easy for the crowds to buy that Ramos was a wild Pokemon. Suddenly, Vincenzo's whip made sense. It was an ingenious marketing maneuver. "But what will you be doing?" he asked his cousin. "The clown, of course. People love my illusions!"

And the conversation went on, as they were leaving Podville behind them; the Ursaring did not seem to be tired at all, even after two hours. The Pokemon must have been used to this kind of work. They had entered the forest a long time ago, and the red planet had disappeared from the sky as well, giving its place to a full moon. The moonlight barely passed through the thick leaves of the forest, but the gentle wind managed to touch Shango and refresh him. He was afraid of the heat emanating from his fairy Pokemon reaching the others, but they did not seem to feel a thing.

After some time, they heard voices from the depths of the forest. Ramos lead the moving stand through the sand path, trying not to shake it too much. Ahead of them, there was a clearing in the middle of the trees allowed the moonlight to fill the area; a pond with crystal clear and reflective water was waving calmly. On the other side of the pond, multiple grass and water type Pokemon were sitting on the lush, rich grass, forming a circle. And in the middle of them, a great fire was brimming, teaming up with the moon to light up the clearing. The druids, once they heard the wheels of the stand rolling on the sand, turned their heads in obvious disturbance. But once they saw the Pokemon, they stood up, leaving the seriousness and devotion of their rituals, to cheer like the Hashashin. Some druids run around the pond to greet them cheerfully, shaking hands and tails with Enzo, who was the first one to reach them. Crystal grabbed Shango's shoulders and forced him to face her.

"Listen up, Shango," she started, "these people are familiar with us, but they don't know we're Hashashin, so lay low, 'kay?"

"Why are we even here?" Shango asked with a plain expression that hid the original question he couldn't voice: what business had the mighty Hashashin with some partying druids? He thought all the Hashashin do were scheme in the dark and eliminate their enemies to advance politically and amass greater fortunes. But this... they were just going to put on a show. He recalled what he knew about the druids of the Hotori... they were hive minded people - they did not trust outsiders. Yet, they trusted the Hashashin... perhaps they are playing a diplomatic game here, one that he was not aware of.

Crystal glanced at the druids, following his plain look.

"Oh, nothing. Just a little thing we like to call 'spying'. They're Hotori, you see - and we need to keep track of their movements. This Tribe is dangerous, even when peaceful."

Shango nodded, cocking a smile as his assumption was confirmed. Crystal had already jumped off the stand, and so had Vincenzo. Shango jumped down as well; he felt the sand wet under his feet. Ramos stopped the stand and Vincenzo placed it so the sign reading 'Ravenscare' was turned against the druids. The Ursaring then roared, and the Bisharp grabbed hold of the ropes, bringing him in front of the cheering druids.

Crystal walked next to him, but didn't stop next to him when he kept a safe distance from the crowd.

"Greetings druids, Ravenscare has arrived," she yelled. A massive Venusaur had stepped forward from the druids; he appeared to be the Archdruid. He slowly gave a great pouch full of coins to Crystal, who turned to hurl it at Enzo. The Ambipom caught in the air with a theatrical pirouette and landed on top of the sign of the stand. Crystal winked at Shango, who kneeled like a prince and faced the sky, opening his mouth. The next moment, he was shooting fire endlessly as the invisible fairy was supplying him with all the energy that he needed.

The flamethrower was shot to the starry sky, offering an amazing sight to the druids who let out cries; Shango then stopped to take a breath, and he would start again, but then a great roar from the Ursaring broke to the skies. Ramos's massive figure was towering above the crowd, having his arms raised as if he was attacking. Vincenzo's whip hit the 'wild' Pokemon, who let out a cry and turned to face the Bisharp.

As Shango was watching the show from the sidelines, Crystal was found next to him. "Don't worry, the whip doesn't really hurt him," he whispered, looking at Ramos and his tamer fight each other pretty convincingly. Shango thought it was amazing so far; he admired the spirit the Hashashin put into this, but he had a feeling he hadn't seen anything. Enzo launched himself from the stand, landing on top of the Ursaring. He started laughing maniacally, clutching Ramos's back. Laughs were spread as Ramos started rampaging, seemingly out of control, trying to throw Enzo off his back.

The Ambipom jumped into the crowd, stepping on the heads and backs of the grass Pokemon. He performed a couple of flips in mid air, then suddenly disappeared. A stream of green fire appeared from nowhere in the sky, engulfing all of the area in a mist that seemed unreal. Shango glanced at the Zoroark, who had a strange glow in her eyes; she was apparently casting illusions.

A Salamence appeared from the mist and roared with all the might of its lungs; the trick was clearly aimed to scare, but the druids cried in support as the dragon kept circling above their heads. Just then, when everyone was looking above, Shango saw something in the crowd. It was a white hood, an impeccable darkness underneath that prevented his keen eyes from seeing through it. The hooded figure of his dreams was standing right there, staring directly at and through him with a piercing gaze that didn't seem to exist - the whole scene was unreal, the druids looking up the sky, while that hooded Pokemon between them all ignoring everything that went on.

After three seconds that seemed like an eternity, that somebody in the white hood turned around. The Zangoose saw the back of his white hood, two black ears falling in the back. Under Tristana's urging, he charged in the crowd, nobody noticing him as they were busy with the show Crystal was giving. He gently pushed the druids out of his way, even though he was running, slipping past them easily. He had his eyes fixed on the black cape of the unreal Pokemon. He finally exited the crowd, his eyes catching the white of the cloak disappearing into the bushes; without second thought, he jumped into the bushes as well and tracked the white down, amidst the dark of the night.

Shango saw the white hoody running between the trees at the same speed as him. It suddenly glanced behind, the dark in his hoody still impenetrable; Shango was forced to stop from the intensity of the look, but the hooded Pokemon kept going. It was as if they wanted to make sure they were being followed. They disappeared in the trees and Tristana popped next to his shoulder.

"Who is this?" she asked in a quite worried tone, holding onto his shoulder for dear life. Shango had never told her about his dreams - mainly because he had not seen that particular one again, and, because she got too worried about these things.

"I don't know," he replied between his breaths as he ran through the trees. He had focused his eyes on the figure, that seemed otherworldly... like it was an illusion. But Crystal was nowhere near, and how could an illusion appear in his dreams? He had also seen it in the Fire Clan's underground chamber. But just who was it?

This night hunt continued for about ten minutes, until a rock wall appeared behind some trees, blocking his way. There was a small entrance to a cave, right there on the ground, and the mysterious figure was gone. The Zangoose kneeled and examined the entrance carefully. His instinct was telling him it was safe, but Tristana was shouting in his ear.

"We're gonna be fine," Shango said as he hurled himself into the cave; it appeared to be a slide that lead him deep underground. The darkness was thick in the tunnel for a moment, but then Tristana started glowing as if her body was a shimmering flame. She was holding onto his chest tightly as they slid, and he felt her warmth taking over him. She was such a great help at these times, but he sure wouldn't tell her so she wouldn't get cocky.

Shango finally landed somewhere on his four feet, and the Victini flew above him to sit on his shoulder again.

"Never again," she said jokingly, her voice echoing in the cave. Shango looked around, only to see he was standing on a rock, endless darkness around him. "Uh-oh," he muttered as he touched the rock with his claws to check for its stability. It seemed to be fine, but he could tell there was nothing beyond it. He was standing on a column, right above the abyss. Suddenly, he jerked his heads towards a direction, perking up his ears, which were picking up a distant sound of some kind of psalms.

"Shango, look," whispered Tristana. He looked at her sideways, then turned to look at what she was looking at. The light of her fiery body fell on some other rocks were ascending right from the abyss; the gap between them was fairly large.

He took some steps back, as much as he could on the rock. "Hang on," he said, and before Tristana could say a thing, he dashed forward and leaped from the rock. The black abyss threatening to swallow him whole passed under his feet; the Zangoose landed on the rock, tumbling on it and regaining his balance quickly so that he may jump again if the rock crumbled away. He glanced behind him, at the gap he'd just crossed with a single leap.

"Fifteen feet," stated Tristana. Her tone gave away her smile; Shango was smiling also.

"Impressive, aren't I?"

There was another rock, to where the psalms were coming from. He repeated the jump, executing it carefully like the first one; beginning to pick up the pace, the thought of unraveling the mysterious of the figure drove him forward. After some leaps, he reached a point where a rocky wall was blocking his way. Shango grabbed hold of the Victini and threw her upwards; she flew a little, looking around as her light was shed all around the cavern. Tristana then let herself fall directly onto the Zangoose's hands, looking up jauntily at him with her sparkling blue eyes.

"There's an opening up there," she said. "You can climb this."

Shango nodded and launched himself from the rock, his claws finding their way into the rock wall's openings and holding him onto it. A couple of small rocks fell into the abyss, never to be seen or heard again. He pulled himself up with swift and agile moves, reaching the opening in the rock Tristana informed him about. Another cave. The strange songs seemed to be coming from there. Shango started running forward with the light provided by his fairy revealing his path; it was a labyrinth-like maze, but there was only one way forward, thankfully.

The narrow cavernous path suddenly ended. Shango almost fell down on the abyss in front of him, but he managed to keep his balance. Then he raised his eyes; a vibrant, green to gray light was lighting the cave up. Thirty feet under him, the floor of the cave was perfectly shaped, worked by Pokemon as it was. An altar made of grey stone was raised right in the middle of the cavern; and in front of the altar, the Pokemon in the white cloak was kneeling, hands raised high. The hymns of Shango's dreams suddenly came to reality with this realization - that's what he was he was hearing this whole time. Along with that realization, he was able to spot some of the features of the body of the mysterious Pokemon - it was certainly of feline structure, while it resembled closely to him.

The hymning seemed to be from a completely different world, vibrant and unreal like the light that fell from the ceiling of the cavern. It was as if it crossed dimensions to be heard in this one; it charmed Shango, it made him feel whole as if his subconscious could understand the meaning of the words, but he truly did not in the very end. Then, it suddenly ended. Shango snapped out of it; he realized the figure was staring at him again, deeply and piercingly. Suddenly, terror jumped out to engulf his heart: what if that Pokemon was the enemy?

Regardless of his fear, he leaped down the rock, charmed by the figure. Landing was easy - everything seemed easy at the moment. Tristana seemed to have been enticed as well, as she was simply looking at the figure - it was only ten feet away from them.

"Who are you?" Shango managed to ask, his mouth left half-opened after he finished his sentence. "You reek of fantasy..." he whispered to the unmoving figure, not daring to approach further.

"What do you want?" the Zangoose continued and took a step closer, trying to pierce the darkness under the hood. It was all in vain - despite his powerful eyesight, the hood was perpetually covered by a veil, like it was hiding the face of this mysterious Pokemon on purpose. The figure opened his arms wide, welcoming him in a great hug.

Drawn forward by an indestructible desire, he took another step forward and hugged the Pokemon for reasons even he did not know. He was taller than him by one feet exactly; Shango felt a familiar source of power inside that Pokemon. It was a darkstar, surely, the hand that had merged with the gem was now tickling him at the back of that Pokemon. Yes, of course. Whoever that was, they had been touched by a darkstar, and not just once; forever, for a million lifetimes. Not just touched, they were made from a darkstar.

"Who are you?" he whispered again, looking inside the darkness of the cloak. The psalms this Pokemon was singing before were still echoing in his mind, though it was silent now. He felt a raging power inside, threatening clouds, an unspeakable power; he let go of him. To his surprise, he finally spoke, or rather, a message was left in his mind.

The Spirit of the Hashashin.

The storm came out as fierce wind. Those were the last words of the hood\ed Pokemon before it dispersed into a mist that shrouded Shango; it was like he could inhale it inside his own body, and so he did. He fell on his knees in front of the altar, panting heavily. His stomach was burning, his heart was beating faster and the pupils of his eyes had dilated so much, the emerald shine was lost - only black remained. After a few moments, he blinked, realizing that a white cloak with a hood and a cape were laying between him and the altar.

"Shango, are you alright?" he heard Tristana ask. "What happened?"

"I don't know... Did you hear that?"

"Spirit of the Hashashin..." she repeated slowly, looking up and thinking about it.

"I've never heard of such thing..." Shango muttered; then he thought that maybe the phrase was not actually literal. That hooded Pokemon could be an actual person... but who? One thing was for sure, before him was the same white cloak that Pokemon was wearing. The Zangoose picked it up from the shoulders with the kind of attention you lift the most precious jewels in the world. The material of the cloak was unknown to Shango - but it seemed limp, it easily fit according to his body's structure when he wore it. Despite its ends touching the ground, it would not impair him from running.

Beneath the cloak were some tight finger-free gloves and a cape, everything made from skin of the dragons; they were fireproof and nearly indestructible. He attached the black cape onto the shoulder of the cloak; he then examined the gloves. They appeared more like braces especially made to fit his hands. When he touched them, he felt an invisible force radiating from them, like they were not just braces. I'll get my uncle to look at them.

"You look alot different," Tristana admitted with an amazed expression, observing him from head to toe.

The gray light continued to hit Shango, who had now wore all of the clothes the hooded figure left behind; if he was a little taller, he would look identical to him, or so he thought. He smiled under the hood, feeling truly free in that cloak. He tied the red sash with his emblem around it to hold it up. It was much better than the old cloak of the Ionian Verdict.

"Come on," Shango said, with his eyes fixed on the rocky wall, his way out. He motioned at the Victini, who flew up and sat on his left shoulder, as usual.

"Let's get outta here, before I get the urge to hug any more strangers," he said in a humorous manner with a whole smile carved on his face. He sprinted up the wall and grabbed hold of the rocky edges; he discovered the gloves helped him greatly in climbing.

"Where's this light coming from, anyway?" he wondered out loud as he looked up. There was an opening on the ceiling of the cavern; he hung himself from the ceiling and made his way to it. When he reached it, before he pulled his body up, he glanced back at the altar.

Shango detected the source of the gray light: multiple gems were stuck on the walls of the cave that reflected a beam of moonlight originating from another opening in the far back of the tunnel. The Zangoose watched his reflection on the gems, the hooded Pokemon with the cloak, one and the same. It was now him - or was he seeing somebody else?

"Oh, my, Shango! These are diamonds," Tristana giggled, jumping down from his shoulder. As she fiddled with one of the rocks on the floor, Shango kneeled and picked some of them up; those would make him rich!

"Give them here. Your friends will be jealous," she said and snatched the small pieces of jewels from his hands. He looked around; but there were no more shattered gems of the kind, and the ones of the walls of the cavern wouldn't budge. He thought of digging them up... but then again, he was never fond of riches. It was the simple things in life that mattered most to him.

Tristana didn't share his opinion though; her partner started laughing at her behavior and grabbed her tiny hand, forcing her to follow. He walked towards the opening, the Victini clutching onto the gems as her biggest treasures.

"Diamonds are a girl's best friend," she stated, gritting her teeth from the effort of carrying so many diamonds.

"There are more valuable things in life," said Shango, looking at his gloves and cloak.


***


"Mmm? Shango?"

All of the Pokemon near the pond, including the Hashashin, were disturbing the peace of the night by snoring loudly. It sounded like Ramos's roars, but he was also snoring loudly, fallen in front of the stand. Shango had just woken up his cousin Crystal, who was rubbing her eyes. The Zangoose shook her shoulders.

"Crystal! What happened here?" he asked in a worried tone. She looked around, trying to wake up. She seemed drunk.

"Oh, that? We were just partying, man, weren't you here?"

"No, I wasn't."

Crystal then observed him with her eyes half closed. She suddenly looked menacing, the fierce look making her seem like how he was imagining the Hashashin.

"Fancy clothes, cousin," she said, looking at him examiningly, "where'd you find them?"

"I walked to the north and I found--"

But something interrupted them. Darkness erupted from the depths of the pond, creating a whirlpool - the next moment, the massive dragon emerged out of the water. A Hydreigon, terrifying sight in the middle of the night, and especially because it was none other than Nightingale. He looked surprisingly calm as he examined the area, utilizing all of his heads; after a while of quiet, he faced the two Hashashin.

"Partying again, eh?" he snickered with a threatening grin. "I strongly suggest you cut these out before Master learns you're wasting your time, loitering around..."

"That's what business with the Hotori now is, right? 'Loitering around'?" Crystal said, her tone giving off a feel of her disapproval towards the dragon. "We're simply following orders. What about you? What'd you want?" Crystal asked plainly.

"I want many things, but the one you should be aware of is that Master requires your services in Yanakard, north of here," the dragon replied coldly. His right head suddenly snapped its jaws, as if it caught a bug.

"What's happening?" the Zoroark sounded rather upset.

"The Cult has slid their own command into town. Try not to lose your heads when you arrive there," he said in a mocking tone before he dispersed into darkness. Shango recalled that same voice stating that he had killed his parents, and hatred rose in his heart again. He would learn more about Nightingale. But other things were more important at the moment.

"Yanakard is the waypoint of middle-eastern Stygia... if the Cult remains in control, they will soon proceed to the Horlon forest and conquer the grounds of the Hotori Tribe, something we have strove to prevent for centuries now."

Crystal was facing Shango now, and she finally looked innocent and feminine, just as she was supposed to be looking at her age.

"So?"

"The Hotori are our allies, Shango, even if they don't know it."

"How does that work?"

"... I don't know. Let's wake the others up. We have a long way to go to Yanakard."

It was a dark, empty room with a closed window on the opposite wall of the entrance. The room big enough for all of them to sleep there, but it smelled so weird, Shango put the side of his claw on his nose to block it. Ramos, due to his size, couldn't get through the door so he muttered something about sleeping outside.

"What is this smell?" Shango inquired, looking around.

"Oh, that? Decomposing flesh," she said in a normal tone. Right then, Shango spotted the dead body of a Noctowl in the corner. His eyes opened wide at the sight.

"Get it out?"

"Vincenzo!"

"Why me?"

"You've got nerves of steel, that's why," Crystal said and they all started laughing, except the Bisharp. As Vincenzo took the Noctowl outside, Shango went ahead and opened the window.

"What is this place, anyway?"

"Our hideout, yo!" shouted Enzo as he took off his belt, put it on the ground and bolted outside. Shango carefuly put off his cloak, folding it and placing it on the corner which was stinking less.

"Alright, now that we're alone--" started Shango, willing to ask about Alexander, but was interrupted by Enzo who bolted back inside.

"Carlos is here! Carlos is here!" his voice sounded melodic, as if he was singing. "Better get outside, mates."

Crystal and Shango followed the Ambipom outside the dark room; Karnos's crimson light filled the area, indicating that it was past midnight. The Krookodile merchant was standing on the alley, in front of the Ravenscare stand, crossing his arms and staring at them with the same mean expression as if he found biting their heads off a good idea.

Vincenzo and Enzo were standing next to each other, facing Carlos. Ramos was sleeping behind the stand.

"H-hello, Carlos!" said Enzo with a trembling voice once they were all there. Crystal chuckled and leaned towards Shango, whispering, "Carlos is the only one of us who can take care of Enzo's disruptive behaviour!"

"You're finally here," said the Krookodile with his arms still crossed. Then his black eyes were fixed on Shango. "Newcomer, eh? Don't waste yourself on these guys here, boy," he said and chuckled, with a massive grin that revealed his sharp teeth. The others chuckled as well, but theirs were biased. Shango wondered who this Carlos was, and what he meant by 'wasting himself on them' exactly.

"You can go," the Krookodile said, looking at the others. They seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Get moving!" he shouted and they vanished inside the house.

"Come closer," he spoke in a low voice Shango barely heard. He doubted if going closer was a good idea. He glanced behind him, in the darkness, then looked at Carlos again; he approached slowly.

"I could've sworn, boy..." he whispered, "that Alexander came by my shop... and bought some 'lamp'."

Shango cursed the cloak inside his mind. Everybody mistook him as this Alexander, and he didn't even know who he was; the 'Spirit of the Hashashin' had given him the cloak, and that only gave birth to more questions. He looked the Krookodile straight in the eye without showing any fear.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't... somebody told me you lost your memory, right?"

Shango nodded and the Krookodile started a twisted, loud laugh that made him sound like a pirate; it contradicted his low, whispering voice. Shango figured Carlos was doing that alot.

"Alright... I promise I won't investigate anything for now. Alexander is dead, you know. At least for us Hashashin!"

He then turned towards the door of the hideout. "Come out you filthy animals!" he shouted. Shango was sure the entire neighborhood heard him. The Hashashin walked outside one by one.

"Who is this boy?" Carlos asked them in a tone that revealed... concern? It sounded strange to Shango's ears.

"Shango Maverick, sir," muttered Enzo.

"Maverick, eh? And he doesn't remember a thing?"

"No," Crystal said plainly. Shango could feel the words that hadn't been said were as meaningful as the ones that had. They were hiding something. The Krookodile scratched his chin.

"Now, onto business, gals. You've been called here for one reason: kick the darned Cult outta this city," Carlos walked over to them with his hands behind his back. "You are to attent tonight's events on the Trade Square; as performers, of course."

"What will be happening there?" asked Vincenzo, seemingly unafraid of Carlos. The Krookodile thought about it for a moment, staring at the ground.

"The Cult will be giving a speech. We will make sure they never deliver the message... know what I mean?"

"You can count on us, sir!" the Ambipom and put both of his tails on his chest.


***


All Pokemon of Yanakard gathered in the Trade Square, crowding the place up. The cacophony of all the conversations combined together was even worse than the morning chatter of Chatots. In the middle of them all, on top of a small hill were standing three Pokemon with vambraces bearing the symbol of the Dark Cult; two Houndooms and a Lopunny, who was holding a paper. But these weren't the only Templars in the area - Shango and the rest of the Hashashin had spotted guards amongst the crowd, as well as some of them circling all around the Trade Square.

Shango had wore his cloak without fear of being recognized. He had yet to find any information regarding this Alexander; and the rest of his accomplices were occupied with their own business. They had sneaked into the crowd, jumping down from the roofs. Ramos had intimidated the guards, who let him pass normally in fear of any of their limbs being snapped off. They were now staring at the Templars atop the hill, who were chatting quickly with each other; Shango was looking elsewhere entirely. South of the square, there was a ledge and a peculiar statue ever farther. He couldn't see clearly through all the Pokemon, so he decided to get closer.

Crystal grabbed his shoulder. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"I wanna see that statue," he said, glancing at her. She sighed for some weird reason.

"Fine. Let's go - their speech won't start any time soon, by the looks of it."

They pushed away the crowd, reaching the bronze statue. Shango opened his eyes wide to get a load of what he was seeing. A Zangoose in the very same robes he was wearing was raising his hand in the air, with his claws extended like he was about to fight. Next to him, a female Zoroark was standing behind him, grabbing his shoulder and looking straight forward with an expression that reminded Shango the one Crystal was taking when things were serious.

Shango quietly jumped down the ledge, looking up at the statue in silent amazement. Crystal followed him nervously.

"Is this... us?" he whispered, staring at the statue.

"No, Shango... it's not. It's Alexander and Alice, the saviours of Yanakard."

He touched the bronze statue as if it was a source of power.

"There is an old tale... that this city was saved from the Illinkar armies that descended from the north by these two; Alexander and Alice..."

Chapter 15: Showdown


Shango woke up early, or so it seemed. The room was dark, but a few beams of light managed to pass through the closed window. His ears picked up only the sound of the breaths of the Hashashin, who were sleeping deeply next to him. Eyes on the ceiling, he grunted.

How can they sleep like that after such killing?

It's true, Shango felt sick, and the spirits of the lives he had taken yesterday haunted him in his sleep. The remembrance of a random, wild dream he had last night made him stand up; but upon realizing none of the details were clear, he fell back to the leaves. His back was fully healed now, and the herb Crystal used on it had been taken off of his back, but he wouldn't look for it. Right now, all he wanted was to sleep again, hopefully in peace.

Shaaango!, a voice echoed in his mind; he had just shut his eyes, but he opened them again slowly. Warmth descended from his chest to his entire torso.

Tristy!, he replied with a weak smile. Laid down as he was, he reached for the fire spirit and patted her on her head gently. The Victini appeared, sitting on his chest; Shango thought she looked like a cute plush toy, the way she was smiling.

What is bothering you, Shango?, she asked and grabbed his hand, rubbing it with her own tiny hands. Her eyes sparkled blue in the darkness. Shango could tell she was ready to vanish again in case any of his comrades woke up.

I had an interesting dream, but I can't remember any of it...

Aww... want me to retrieve it for you?

No... it hurts to think right now.

Tristana walked up, stepping on his neck and leaned forward. They faced each other, Shango slightly raising his head from the leaves underneath him. She had this great smile on her face.

"Is everything alright, my hero?" she whispered, only for him to hear, staring inside his eyes. Tristana then proceeded to kiss him near his lips; he felt tremendous heat expulsing from her, or so he thought. He was instantly energized, feeling able to stand up to an entire army, but he stood perfectly still.

"I'm.. I'm alright," he whispered in a troubled expression. "Why did you do that?"

She giggled, quietly this time, her eyes becoming two curves of happiness. "Why not?"

Shango raised his eyebrows and looked at her for a moment in silence. Tristana flapped her wings, flying off of his neck and sat on his chest again. She tilted her head and stared at him.

"Since when am I your hero?" he asked her teasingly, with a small grin forming on his face.

"You've always been my hero," she whispered in a sincere manner that made his playful mood vanish. Shango knew this, of course, but he could not say a thing to her. Her tone completly disarmed him.

"I'm glad you got to know who your real parents were," she spoke in the same tone.

"Thanks, Tristy... it's good to know my parents were heroes back in their day."

"They are still heroes, Shango! Everybody remembers Alexander..."

She patted his chest, making Shango remember when Crystal did it last night. It was a strange thought at that moment, distracting him from their conversation.

"I am wondering what this Master of yours is thinking," Tristana continued. A sound was heard in the room; Shango jerked his head to see Crystal changing sleeping position.

"I guess he's after the darkstar, and I'm key in finding it."

"But you will still work for him? Why don't you just drop this whole amnesia thing?"

"I am convinced regarding the brotherhood's ideals, and that will not change. However, I can't just tell them I was lying to them all along. I don't want my relationship with them to crumble down like that..."

"I understand..." she muttered, looking down. A loud snore was heard from the direction where Enzo was sleeping. Tristana vanished instantly; the next moment, Crystal sounded.

"Stupid ape!" she landed her fist on the Ambipom's head, who wake up with a grunt. Shango almost chuckled as Crystal got up to her feet as if she was not sleeping. She seemed furious.

"sup, Crystey?" Enzo got up as well, rubbing his head.

"You sound like an Exploud farting when you're snoring!" she said, clearly irritated.

Shango and Vincenzo got up to their feet as well; the Bisharp, who was closer to the window, opened it and let the light fill the room. Its black rock walls looked miserable. Shango couldn't wait to get outside, but the thought of taking more lives made him want to stay inside. I'll have to get used to it, he said to himself.

Good luck... replied Tristana, who hid inside his cloak as he picked it up from the floor and wore it. The others were getting ready as well; today would surely be bloody. Shango wore his vambraces, the feeling of superiority and brute force returning to his arms. He was now convinced these vambraces the Spirit of the Hashashin had left behind were not normal.

"We must get going," said Vincenzo in a plain tone as if he was stating a fact. "Carlos will be waiting for us again..."

"Let him wait," replied Crystal abruptly. "It's not like this guy'll ever break a sweat!" she said and unlocked the door, rushing outside and slamming it behind her. Enzo and Vincenzo looked at each other's hoods and shrugged.



"Let's get to the point, people," he started speaking in his stern tone. "My spies have located Amir the Death Dealer; however, we are not aware of who he is and how much power he has. What we know is that his forces terrorize the cities, especially the merchants of the trade square. But in truth, he is working underground; this city's built on a rock full of iron, and we suspect Amir is hiding in the mines."

"Which means," said Crystal, "we'll head there and kill him."

"Not all of you," replied Carlos quickly, raising his arm, looking at Shango. "You, Shango. What you did back in the square was impressive, but it was risky. You will stay here with me."

Shango was about to protest, but the Krookodile motioned him to shush, then pointed at the others and motioned outside the door. "Time is money, Hashashin. Get moving already."

All of his friends bolted outside the majestic room, leaving Carlos and Shango all alone. What now?, he thought, as he was examining the Krookodile carefully. Carlos bypassed him with quick steps and closed the door of the room, then turned to him. Something mind-blowing happened the next moment - Carlos vanished, and a male Zoroark took his place.

"What--"

"Shh, my boy," said the Zoroark and blocked his mouth, looking outside the door as if somebody was right outside. Their eyes met; Shango had seen them before.

"You are..."

"Yes, I'm Pasqual," he whispered in a strange expression that greatly resembled the Krookodile's.

"But my uncle Pasqual is an Infernape..."

"Wrong. I am a Zoroark, I was all along. Haven't you ever wondered why you passed through the Infernape back in the trade square of Ionia?"

Shango's heart lost a beat. He backed off, slightly. "How did you know..." The defense of his amnesia crumbled down right in front of him. Pasqual looked at him in this manner Shango couldn't comprehend with - he didn't seem angry, nor he wanted to hurt him.

"You have been told that some voidborns have the ability to peek into the souls of their targets. That's what I did."

Shango remained silent, feeling Tristana flaring up like a firework next to him, her heartbeats as fast as his; Pasqual jerked his head towards the invisible fairy, somehow knowing it's there.

"You can tell your friend to stop hiding now," he said plainly. Tristana appeared on Shango's shoulder. She was staring at the Zoroark with a grimace.

"Listen, Shango," said Pasqual and glanced behind his back, towards the door. He then grabbed Shango's hands. "Your father and I were great friends. I could never give him in, or his son."

Shango started calming down a bit, as Tristana did. She stopped flying and dropped onto his shoulder; Pasqual let go of his hands, and Shango raised one to pat the Victini's head. He looked inside Pasqual's eyes, wondering if he was able to perform this soul-peeking ability he mentioned, but the Zoroark spoke again.

"I was the one to throw you in the river once you were born," he said, with his eyes glowing, "I was the one who named you, Shango. I was the one to protect your memories from the invasions of the other Hashashins."

Shango's eyes opened wide to these revelations. Pasqual was telling the truth, he was sure of it - or was this another of his perfectly believable illusions?

"Listen to me, my boy," the Zoroark said in a quite worried tone. "Your father... your father was not killed because of what you think. Your father was involved into something far more grander than you can imagine."

"What...?" Shango was lost, he had so many questions and he didn't know where to begin. Pasqual let out a weak chuckle.

"You think they sentenced him and your mother to death because of a mere, stupid law of the families of the Hashashin? They were two of the greatest Hashashin that came to be!" he shouted, his eyes opened wide in an unspeakable anger. "The brotherhood would never waste their skills on just that! No, something else happened... I wish I had the time to tell you right now, but this city needs us."

Pasqual grabbed Shango's hands again, looking at his vambraces. "These were your father's. They are the technology of our Precursors, combined with the powers of the voidborns, the Nether Plane."

Shango let him pull the vambraces out; he figured that was the reason he felt a source of power within them. The Zoroark held them in his hands for some moments, staring at them.

"You have used them enough for them to bound onto your soul - they can do much more than you think. Actually, they do just what you think."

Shango smirked his eyebrows and looked at Pasqual with a troubled expression. Thoughts about the Spirit of the Hashashin who gave him this piece of armour circled around his mind. He was starting to get confused now; the Spirit gave him the cloak and the vambraces that belonged to Alexander. Why? How? Tristana could sense his questions and looked at him, but he didn't turn his head to look at her back. His uncle gave him the vambraces back and made him wear them.

"It'll take some time to understand how they work, but let me explain first. These vambraces are a powerful nether weapon that are able to manipulate the fabric of space itself, alter it to your own will. But the manipulation is not enough to cause temporal conundrums - it is extremely limited."

"But... how do I use them? What do they even do...?"

Pasqual looked at him inside his eyes once again. "Think of two blades extending out of them, picture them as long and sharp as you like. With some practice, you will be able to make that picture a reality."

Shango wasn't believing in his ears. What Pasqual had said so far, his transformation and revelations were too much to take in. He was lost to all the information that caused only new questions to rise from his mind. However, he managed to keep his cool. He tried thinking of two blades appearing from the vambraces, above his claws, but nothing happened.

"It's not working," he said, quite disappointed. He felt ridiculous for a moment.

"Ah... it's alright," said his uncle, patting his shoulder. "Shango, I know you have many questions, but now is not the time. I promised I will teach you how to fight like us, and that I will do. For now, I need you to go around the city."

"And do what?"

"Keep an eye out for Templars. One of my spies told me that Amir will be there."

"Well, why did you send the others in the mines?"

"Because the chances of Amir acting in the open are slim. Plus, it's one spy's word againist seven."

"... you can count on us, then," Shango said with a small grin; the thought of getting all of his questions answered once the madness in Yanakard had ended motivated him. He patted Tristana on her head again and she let out a cute laugh. Pasqual fixed his eyes on the Victini, her slightly glowing body reflected on them.

"What's her name?" he asked, directing the question more towards Shango rather than Tristana.

"Tristana," she spoke first. "But you can call me Tristy!" Uncle Pasqual raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"She can talk?"

Shango chuckled. "Obviously. But didn't you already know that?"

"I can't know everything, boy," said the Zoroark and winked with a grin on his face; it greatly reminded Shango of Crystal. The epiphany kicked in like a thunder: Pasqual was her father.

"Now, I have to take care of this damned shop... as Carlos, of course."

"I have a question for you, mister," said Tristana in the sassy tone Shango was used to hearing all these years. "Do the others even know you are Pasqual?"

The Zoroark chuckled. "No. Confidential information; Carlos is a fictional character the Shadow Hunters have created to keep this shop in Yanakard as a retired Hashashin that went undercover to guard this town."

"But how can you be at both Pasqual and Carlos at the same time?" inquired Tristana, tilting her head in an adorable manner. Her question made Pasqual's grin grow bigger. He motioned his head towards the door.

"My son Dimitri takes care of Carlos when I am out of Town."

The image of the Krokorok sitting on a chair next to his father in the shop bursted into Shango's mind. So that Krokorok was another Zoroark, then. The Hashashin were full of surprises, he admitted.

"We'll be going now, then," said Shango and walked towards the exit.

"Good luck, Shango."

The Zangoose glanced behind him. Carlos was standing right there, having that scary, unreal grin.


***


"Shango, think I should hide now?" Tristana asked him while they were walking through the narrow streets of Yanakard. The Pokemon that were passing through these streets seemed poor and worn out from hunger; they were silent and paced quickly, getting away from the hoodied Hashashin and his fire spirit as fast as they could.

Shango didn't answer to Tristana. He simply gave her a slight nod and she disappeared; he had his eyes fixed on a certain Pokemon across the street. It was a female Togetic with grey, torn wings, sitting down on the ground. She was staring at him intently with her hand extended, a desperate expression on.

"Please, sir..."

Shango approached her, taking careful steps towards the Togetic that made him look even more threatening. However, she did not even move.

"What happened to your wings?"

He spoke in the altered voice he was imagining Alexander to use. The inspiration of pretending to be him again came through his mind - Yanakard would be liberated by his father, dead or alive. The Togetic's expression did not change. She only glanced at her wings, then back at him.

"T-they hacked them..." she muttered, then jerked her head towards the left; three Skuntanks appeared from the corner and paced towards the Togetic. When she turned to look at the hoodied Pokemon, he had vanished.

"Hey! You!" shouted the Skuntank that was walking in the middle of them. "Didn't we tell you to scram? We don't want anyone bothering others about money!"

As they reached her, the templar that talked prepared to hit her; she was refusing to move. The Hashashin lept from above, sticking his claws on the Pokemon's back and neck as he landed. He quickly kicked the body away and looked at the others, adopting his battle stance with his claws extended. He instantly thought of his vambraces - could they possibly produce nether blades? Nothing happened when he pictured them. But battling without them was not a problem.

The Skuntanks carelessly charged forward. Shango figured they were not real templars; they'd just gotten that title to aid the Dark Cult in the dominance over Yanakard in exchange for gold. That meant they were probably inexperienced mercenaries, all of them. The Zangoose dealt with their assault accordingly, moving twice as fast as both of them; he countered their attacks and dodged their sprays. He proceeded into a flurry of attacks on one of the Skuntanks, eventually slashing its face and kicking it on the gut. As it rolled over, Shango pounced and stuck his claws on the area of the heart, hot blood emerging from the wound.

The other Skuntank seemed momentarily stunned by the atrocity, but he managed to release a flamethrower. Shango let out his own flamethrower, which proved to be stronger. The intensity of the blazing, fiery maze they created made the temperature of the street rise. Shango suddenly let go of his own stream of fire and vanished behind the flames. Confused, the Skuntank stopped his flamethrower, only to see the Hashashin charging forward.

The last of the Skuntanks laid on the street with a big wound on the back of its neck. Shango was towering above him; his nostrils twitched. What a stench. His opponent was still alive, though heavily bleeding.

"Why are you doing this, Hashashin?" he managed to say.

"In this society you templars have created, there is nothing to gain, and everything to fear. If I stand inactive, what will become of it?"

He kneeled, careful not to wet his fur or his cloak with the blood on the ground. "But that is none of your concern right now. Rest in peace."

Shango stood up again as the templar died. The Togetic had hid in the shadows, spots where the sun could not reach. The blood on the street created an extremely ironical image, as it contradicted with the sunny day. It was one of those rare Stygian days, where there were no clouds on the sky.

"Why did you do this? Oh, no..." she whimpered, upset and about to cry.

"Nobody will ever know what happened here," he said and took out the pouch full of gold coins Crystal had given him; he opened it and picked up five. The Togetic's eyes flashed as she took the coins and looked at Shango with a weak smile on her face.

"I knew you were kindhearted, right from the start."

As Shango had nothing to answer to her, he simply walked away. No Pokemon who took three lives so willingly was kindhearted.


***


The Hashashin continued his way to the trade square, but it was extremely difficult to navigate, as the town has no big streets. He was forced to stop and ask passerby Pokemon about directions, but once they saw the emblem of the Hashashin on his belt, they ran away.

"What's up with these people?" said Shango out loud, quite irritated. "As if I'd ask them for directions if I was gonna kill them..."

Tristana found it funny and started laughing. Shango grinned under the hood, thinking she was too cute to tell her to stop. She then poked his ear teasingly.

"Hey hotshot, maybe I can fly high enough to get us out of this mess!"

The Victini flapped her wings gently, even though she floated in the air without their help. She flew high, looking around. There were no tall buildings Shango could climb and navigate, but Tristana would surely be able to find their way out. After a moment of looking around, she let her gravitation aside and fell directly onto Shango's shoulder, landing surprisingly softly.

"That way!" she shouted and pointed at an alley. Shango gave her a pat on the head, but she grabbed his hand and pushed it away.

"Nuh-uh! That won't do!" she said and giggled. She then entered his hood and stood right in front of his face. Everytime Shango remembered this moment in the future, he bursted into laughter because of its hilarity.

"What are you--"

"Kiss me," Tristana said and bit her lips, revealing her teeth. Shango's felt extreme heat expulsing from her once again. Before he could react, she shut her eyes and leaned forward, kissing him again. This has to stop, Shango thought and plucked her out of his hood. She looked at him as if he had just taken her cake away.

"Tristy," Shango said, smiling while holding her on the same height as his hood. "You and I are friends. Friends don't kiss each other."

"B-but..." she muttered and looked down; Shango could tell she was about to cry.

"You can hug me if you want."

"I want to kiss you!" her voice was mildly trembling. Shango promised himself he would remember to get her one of those lollipops Enzo was gobbling down.

"I want to fly like you, but I can't."

Tristana looked at him with her big blue, watered eyes reflecting his image. A scream from the other street torn the moment apart; Shango jerked his head towards the source of the sound, perking his ears up. He let go of Tristana, who hid under his cape. He begun walking, entering the alley Tristana had directed him to.

Ahead of him was the most poor district of Yanakard; the houses were made of worn-out wood, there were alot of trees and grass around and the rocky path turned into a sand one as he progressed further. He noticed abandoned treehouses that seemed to be ravaged. The wooden fence was broken and covered by the tall grass.

Shango picked up the smell of desertion. The street was rotting away into nothingness, and it was a sad view. In the far end of the district, there was a hill and a tunnel... just outside it, a Bidoof was rooted to the ground with his feet trembling uncontrollably. He was staring into the dark tunnel. As Shango walked towards the tunnel, he realized there was light on the others side; when the Bidoof noticed him, he turned his whole body around and let out another small scream.

"Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you," said Shango in a peaceful tone, with the same altered voice. This was working out quite well. The Bidoof calmed down; he sat on his rear feet and rubbed his eyes, crying. Shango realized he was no older than five.

"They are coming!" he cried. Shango kneeled and stroked the rodent's head carefully.

"Who's coming?"

"Th-they, they say they will kill us! I want my mommy..." the Bidoof glanced inside the tunnel, Shango did as well. Somebody was approaching with heavy steps; a dark figure at the end of the tunnel. The Cult's everywhere in this town. There is no use killing one or two of their members to wither down their power. I will have to cut its core down.

Shango smiled under the hood and looked at the child again. "Close your eyes and count to twenty. I will make them disappear. But no cheating, alright?"

The small rodent tried touched his hood. Shango assumed he was trying to see his face through the darkness, but the only thing visible was his generous smile. People have no need to see anything else, he thought and got up, ensuring the child had closed his eyes.

He entered the darkness of the tunnel, his eyes instantly locking onto the dark figure. They were closing in on each other, but the tunnel was longer than he expected. He smirked his eyes as he heard a small cry coming from under his cape. Tristana was crying. He decided it was not the right time and kept walking towards the Pokemon; he could now see it clearly, even though the darkness was still dense. It was a Granbull bearing the emblem of the Dark Cult on his chestguard. Shango's eyes ignored the crossed heart and focused on the Pokemon's neck. He had already found ten different ways of killing him silently, but the realization that he had already become a skilled murderer made him deny almost all of them. Another member of the Dark Cult would go down soon, but he was not feeling the same respect for lives as he was at his time in the Ionian Verdict. But that was only natural, he figured.

As the templar caught a glimpse of his strange, friendly smile, Shango shot his arms, impaling the Granbull's neck with all of his claws and raising him in the air. Choked in his own blood, he was thrown back to the ground of the tunnel, the sound echoing all around.

The Zangoose sat on his ankles next to his victim, reaching for his belt. A golden compass. Nice, he thought, picking it up and walking away. His smile had not disappeared, even though blood was dripping from his claws.

As he exited the tunnel from the side he came in, he saw the Bidoof turned towards him, opening his eyes. Shango pointed at the tunnel with his bloodied claw extending from the sleeve of his cloak.

"As I promised!"

The Bidoof peeked inside the tunnel and a smile was painted onto his face. He had not noticed the crimson substance on his claws.

"What is going on here?" a voice came from somewhere in the deserted neighborhood. Shango raised his hood to see a Bibarel which was probably the Bidoof's mother.

"Mommy!" screamed the rodent and rushed to his mother. Then he looked over at Shango. "This mister made the mean guy disappear!"

The mother looked at him momentarily, then glanced at the emblem of his belt. "Ah... I see," she said. "Are you perhaps Alexander?"

"Yes."

Shango saw her face brighten up. "It's good you came back at such times... the Cult will bother us again," she whispered.

"I will make sure they don't."

"Oh, goodness... how can we ever repay you?"

"Stay alive," said Shango and turned away, headed inside the tunnel. Seeing the pain and anguish the Dark Cult had brought upon Yanakard had turned his heart into stone. In the end, he was not even sorry.

Shango finally reached the trade square of Yanakard, after Tristana's attempts at navigation. She seemed sad, but he wouldn't do anything about it. He didn't know what to do. Tristana was not fully aware of how the world or relationships worked.

The square was filled with Pokemon, crowds forming a row at the merchants' shops; now that the Dark Cult was gone from the square, stands with all kinds of products were laid all around. Shango stared at a Miltank who had a kart parked next to a carpet merchant. His nostrils picked up a wonderful smell that drew him towards it. He quickly saw what the Miltank was selling: fried cheese-covered bread. The sign read 'Punchos'. Shango looked under his left arm, where Tristana was hiding, clutching his cape.

"Are you up for some of these, Tristy?"

"Oh... sure."

After Shango got through the row, he bought three of these bread chunks that were hot and went over to sit on a nearby bench. He didn't mind that the blood on his claws slightly stained his food. Tristana got out of her cloak and started eating the bread without picking it up, as it was almost as big as her. She was no longer invisible, but neither of them seemed to care about the risk.

"This is good!" she said and took a big bite. Shango smiled, seeing her recover her jolly mood.

"Why did you buy three?" she asked him, staring at the bread that was left. Shango chuckled, thinking she'd want to eat that as well, as if the first one wasn't enough.

"It's not for you!" he said and turned to look at the moving crowd as he ate it. Then he glanced back at the Victini. "Fine, I'll share."

He cut it in half and put her half in front of her. She picked it up and flapped her wings, landing on his shoulder. Shango turned his attention back to the merchants and the crowd; he raised his hand to rub the tip of her ear, almost involuntarily. Tristana shut her eyes and purred.

Shango perked up his ears, picking up the conversation of two merchants who were selling vegetables and fruits; the name of his father drew his attention.

"... Alexander should've taken over the city."

"Do you have any idea why he left?"

The hooded Zangoose fixed his eyes on them. Two Kecleon brothers, typical merchants.

"No... do you think maybe it is another trick of the Hashashin?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." he started whispering then, but Shango could still hear him despite the fuss of the crowd. "His appearance is quite sudden, don't you think? Maybe the Hashashin want us to believe he has returned..."

"Get a grip, how would they ever do that?"

"Do not underestimate them! After what's happened with the Cult..."

"Still, why would they fake Alexander's return?"

"I wouldn't ever know... nobody knows."

Shango decided it was about time to have some fun and confirm the rumors. He walked towards to the merchants who noticed his hoody immediately. Tristana had vanished out of sight. The Kecleon brothers started packing up their stuff in a hurry, seeing his emblem.

"Hold it, brothers," said Shango calmly, raising his hand. They noticed the blood.

"What do you want?" asked one of the Kecleons who appeared to be the brave one.

"I heard you talking about some Alexander..."

They observed him closer, realizing the hooded Pokemon before them was exactly the same as the statue near the square.

"Alex? It can't be you..." said the other Kecleon with distrust.

"I've done so much for this city already, and you don't even recognize me," Shango said in complaint, his altered voice sounding threatening. The Kecleons seemed intimidated, though they tried to hide it.

"Take off your hood, then. We should see a seventy year old Zangoose, if you are who you're claiming to be."

"My actions alone prove me. If you don't believe in me, I might as well disappear."

The Kecleons glanced at each other. They had nothing to say to him. Shango was about to continue talking, he caught a familiar figure behind the Kecleons. A Rhyperior. Amir the Death Dealer was in the square. He quickly turned to the Kecleons.

"Being your leader or not, that would not free the city from the Cult's grasp. Be patient on your liberation. Oh and," he added with a sly smile, pointing at their stands, "seems you have costumers." The Kecleons turned around and he bounced off as quickly and quietly as he could.

He ran up to the wall of black stone behind him and kicked it to launch himself on top of the tents the merchants had installed to their stands to protect their merchandise. He fixed his eyes on Amir who was walking below; his ears suddenly picked up his voice - the Death Dealer was talking with somebody. Shango peeked at the street below, careful not to be seen by the crowds.

"The plan is progressing quite well," said Amir in a heavy voice. "All of the Hashashin are in the mines."

"I see... so you have paid their spies, as we agreed." Shango could not see Amir's conversation partner from where he was, but he sounded sinister, his voice strange and vibrant. He could clearly hear him through all the other voices. "It is evident you understand the importance of Yanakard and its resources, Amir," continued the voice. Shango saw them walking through the crowd and jumped to the other tent to follow them.

"But of course I understand it. Do not forget I am the one to build the weapons with the same resources!"

Shango sat on his ankles on top of the tent and tilted his head. He could now see the other Pokemon, but he could not distinguish his species. It was about five feet tall and it was wearing a black cloak that was in no way similar to the ones the Hashashin were wearing. It had runes on it, blue runes that glowed hypnotically.

"So you are guaranteeing your success in the mines. You do know that what we are looking for is of utmost importance?"

"My lord, do you feel the need to remind me of my duties?"

"Yes."

Shango thought the Pokemon in the black cloak had said that in the same manner as he usually did. Coincidence? As the two of them approached the tent Shango was onto, he picked up the sense of power, and much to his dread, the hooded Pokemon jerked his head upwards to face him. Two blue eyes glowed in the darkness of his hood, meeting Shango's. All of a sudden, he had a feeling that Pokemon could tell exactly who he was.

The moment passed and the somebody in the black hood turned elsewhere, seemingly ignoring the Hashashin that was spying on them.

"Amir," the voice said again in a quiet, slow manner. "I have a strong feeling you will never succeed. The darkstar underneath the city will be forever lost to us."

Shango opened his eyes wide. So that's what was of utmost importance. A darkstar, here, underground.

"You are offending me, my lord."

"If you took offense by my words, quite unfortunately, it is none of my concern. I merely state facts. Do you forget who I am?"

Now he sounded deadlier, somehow. The Rhyperior was clearly intimidated; Shango wondered who the Pokemon in the black cloak was once again. How can someone have so much influence over a Death Dealer? Hmm... the Death Dealer should not be alone in here.

Shango half shut his eyes and scanned through the crowd of the trade square. Indeed, he spotted several Pokemon with the emblem of the templars spread amongst the other Pokemon. He then jumped to a roof of a house that was next to him, following the two from above.

"It is time, my lord. It is now when we take over Yanakard!"

Amir raised his hand and motioned in the air. Shango caught movement amongst the crowds, then screams and chaos ensued. His eyes were locked onto the templars who started tearing the stands of the merchants down. The tents went up in fire. The Rhyperior headed in the middle of the square, in front of that small hill.

"Citizens!" Amir yelled, his thunderous voice being heard all around despite the screams, "The Dark Cult does not wish for this square to be used by your every day needs! From now on, this area is sacred. A temple will be built upon this land in honor of the Dark Cult!"

Shango quickly took his eyes from the Rhyperior, disgusted by the words alone. He searched for the Pokemon in the black hood amongst the crowd, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Shango!" Tristana appeared floating next to his shoulder. "They're hurting people..."

Shango jerked his head towards where she was pointing. He leaped, landing amongst the fleeing Pokemon. Slipping right through them with speed, he reached the Granbull that was attacking an Umbreon; this Umbreon was apparently selling pendants. Shango reached for the templar's hands and pulled him towards him, stabbing him in the stomach and letting him fall to his side.

The Hashashin didn't stay to hear the Umbreon thanking him; he stepped on the merchant's stand and launched himself to the nearest stand that was set in fire by a Skuntank. The fleeing Pokemon prevented him from seeing Shango, who landed on his back, stabbing him. This time, Pokemon saw what had taken place and they quickly backed off, screaming.

The citizens are evacuating the square. You'll soon be left alone, against all those templars, spoke Tristana in his mind, trying to keep her calm, but her voice was still slightly trembling. Shango raised his head from the ground where the Skuntank was laying and looked around the square. Indeed, the people were leaving and he would soon be left alone.

He charged towards Amir who was watching the chaos. The Death Dealer spotted the Hashashin and a smirk was formed onto his face.

"You, again," he yelled in anger, "why are you here, Hashashin?" he yelled in anger, pacing towards him with his fists raised.

"Am I needed elsewhere?" Shango responded to his question with a question, having a slightly mocking grin on his face. As they talked, he evaluated his opponent; the Rhyperior was about fifty years old and seemed powerful and experienced. He raised his own hands in a battling stance that allowed him to use his speed to its full extent. His foe was twice as big, but twice as slow.

The Rhyperior charged forward, his massive arm coming smashing down towards the spot where Shango was a second ago; Amir proceeded into another attack towards the Hashashin, but he quickly disappeared. Shango slashed his back and slid beneath his feet as his opponent turned around. His claws scratched the red plate of armor, barely doing any damage. A great roar erupted from the Pokemon and swung his arm, Shango ducking to avoid it; he dove, tumbling to the right, his claws tearing the sturdy skin of the Pokemon's leg.

Amir, however, swung his heavy tail, which hit Shango right on the chest and sent him flying. Having lost his breath for a second, he struggled to get up. The Rhyperior was charging again, with his horn extended. Shango lept onto the Pokemon's arm, causing an unexpected surprise to the attacker - Shango started shooting a flurry of powerful, piercing punches, changing his position every second with such speed that he was almost unseen. This technique was called 'close combat' by the teachers of the Ionian Academy. Shango combined both strength and speed, and he was arguably the best student there was when it came to that technique.

His claws were leaving marks on Amir's armour - the whole procedure took three seconds, before the Pokemon flinched and Shango's claws found their way directly onto his eyes, plucking them out. The Hashashin lept away from his opponent, who fell on the ground heavily with a loud sound. Shango's chest was going up down as he panted; it was feeling extremely weird, as if his organs were dislocated by the Rhyperior's powerful swing.

Surrounding templars had taken notice of the fight due to the screams of their leader and charged at Shango. There was no way of escape, but that wouldn't be necessary; Tristana, seeing the danger, flared up. She was shot like a bullet at the incoming templars, a fiery explosion cracking in the middle of them, sending blazing sparks everywhere around the square. An ultraheated wave of energy hit Shango directly on his face, making him look elsewhere. The templars who had not been caught inside the flames were staring astounded at the after show; nothing but debris was left of their allies. Shango spotted Tristana on the ground, seemingly not breathing.

His anger flared up like the explosion that had just taken place; he launched himself onto the remaining templars, surprising them. By using the technique of 'close combat', he torn through them towards Tristana until they ran in fear for their lives, away from the square. Shango kneeled over the Victini, feeling his chest burn as he was trying to grasp her image on the ground. He picked her up and noticed her weak breath.

"Every war has casualties, son," said a voice from behind. Shango jerked his head to see the black hoody that was conversing with Amir a while ago. They were alone on the square, just him, Shango and Tristana. Shango looked back at the Victini and stroked her head, trying to think of ways of healing her. He felt the powerful Pokemon approach him, and he came to the realization that he had felt this kind of power before, when he met the Spirit of the Hashashin.

"Let me have a look," the Pokemon said and extended his arms, waiting for Shango to give him the Victini.

"Who are you?" Shango blurted, noticing again how the blue runes of his cloak were glowing. At times they seemed pure white, at other times a vibrant, unearthly blue. The Pokemon was examining Tristana.

"Do you know who you are?" was the response. It was said in a manner that got Shango thinking.

"I guess so..."

"That is not a valid answer. Who are you, to ask me who I am?"

Silence fell between the two. Shango could not see a thing behind the darkness of the Pokemon's hood; it looked alike the hood of the Master of the Hashashin. But the Master was alot taller and his body's shape was certainly different. This one appeared more feline, closer to Shango's.

"She is going to live," he diagnosed simply, without performing any obvious procedure. He handed Tristana to Shango and then fixed his eyes on the burnt body of Amir.

"Since you don't really know who you are," he started, "I am going to tell you. You are the Phantom Dancer."

Phantom Dancer. Shango was at a loss. He had not heard of such a name ever before. He looked at the other Pokemon as if he was crazy, but then he realized his power was... touchable. He could infiltrate his thoughts, somehow. They both were voidborn, he was sure of that. Let's try this... it was like he was sucked in by a massive whirlpool of emotions, thoughts and facts, the next moment he felt himself jumping into the river of a gigantic amount of flowing knowledge. Knowledge dangerous and mystic.

"And you are the Prophet of the Dark Cult," he stated, retrieving himself back to reality. He was still holding Tristana, much to his surprise. Even though he had seen things by invading the Prophet's mind, it felt like it was only a dream and that hours had passed since the fight of Yanakard's square. But here he was, still standing in front of the hooded Prophet. Not even a second had passed by. He remembered this Prophet was supposedly four and a half centuries old. But how can that be? He sounded like a thirty year old with a certainly odd touch in his voice.

"Yes, that is correct! Excuse the hood, but it gets quite disturbing when they recognize you in public... don't you think, Hashashin?"

Shango was feeling strange right now, conversing with the greatest enemy of the Hashashin. He was not forgetting the Hashashin once worked for this Pokemon before him. But now, all he wanted to think about was the knowledge, the idea of the Phantom Dancer. It was like he received a box of information with the name Phantom Dancer and all he had to do was open it. Tristana sighed on his hands, and he immediately fixed his eyes on her, stroking her head again.

"You care about her. Typical," commented the Prophet. He then perked his body up. "It's time for me to go. Amir's failure to kill you and your allies - yes, they are still alive - is not something that will not be mourned by the Dark Cult."

A familiar voice cracked from across the square. "Prophet," Crystal snarled and charged against the Prophet that was standing before Shango. She was not wearing any dress, and her mane was bloodied.

"Ah... Unfortunately, I have no time for this lady," said the Prophet in a strange manner. Two red claws were revealed from the black sleeves of his cloak. Darkness, massive darkness covered the area. Time itself stopped working, a dark haze bound Shango's will; he felt terrible, as if this power was not supposed to belong to this world. No normal Pokemon could perform such things.

Now, he could only see the Prophet approaching his immobilized cousin and examining her. He was staring at her.

"You look like my archnemesis, dear. Oh yes, Chantalai looked exactly like you! I miss the times when he was alive. Now he's even worse than dead, I'll have you know. Cursed to suffer for an eternity."

Shango wondered what he was talking about; all he knew is that pure evil erupted from his words. But if this Prophet was truly evil, why did he help Shango and Tristana? Why did he spoke of the darkstar, knowing Shango was hearing? The Prophet turned towards Shango.

"I will leave this city unscathed... for now. I am curious as to how you will progress with your new identity."

The haze faded and the Prophet vanished as if he was never there. Shango ensured he was still holding Tristana. He raised his head to face Crystal, who approached him furiously; she clearly had not understood what the Prophet meant exactly with 'new identity'.

"Why didn't you kill him?!" she yelled at him, grabbing his shoulders and shaking them. Tristana opened her eyes slightly. Shango shook his body off the Zoroark's grasp and walked away, slowly stroking Tristana.

"Where are you going?"

Shango turned around and looked at her in the eye. "I have nothing to say to people who treat me like that."

Crystal stopped for a second. Shango noticed she was reconsidering her behavior. She stared at the Victini on Shango's hands.

"I heard you talking with this spirit the morning," she said, having slightly calmed down. Shango raised his eyebrows, even though that gesture was not visible under the hood.

"I managed to... infiltrate her mind," she continued slowly. Shango immediately knew what this meant: uncle Pasqual said he had only protected his mind from the Hashashin... not Tristana's. That would mean, Crystal knew everything.

"You liked what you saw?" asked Shango mockingly, his inside burning. "What choice did I have, really? Do nothing and get tortured?"

"... it matters little. You are one of us now."

"Indeed, and I'm gonna die as one of you," said Shango coldly, reminding her it was not his choice to join the brotherhood. The Zoroark before him looked around. Debris was slowly being carried away by the wind, the same wind bringing the smell of burnt flesh to their nostrils. The ground was painted black from the blast, only ashes remaining of the grass in the middle of the square. Apart from that, the silence of the dead was almost unbearable.

"What the heck happened here?" whispered Crystal, avoiding the emerald eyes that were glowing under Shango's hood. He raised Tristana, making his cousin look at her.

"She saved me," he stated. Tristana gifted him a weak smile, unable to speak for herself. She seemed exhausted. "And what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be down in the mines, trying to kill Amir?"

"We went there," she said plainly, "we got some trouble, Enzo almost got himself killed, but we're alright..."

"And did you find Amir?" Shango asked her with a devious grin on his face that was extremely close to malicious. Crystal did indeed notice the change - his whole appearance seemed much more menacing, and his presence alone was overwhelming. Perhaps what he had seen inside the Prophet's mind had changed him.

"No... coz, are you alright?" Crystal asked him, examining him carefully. Shango knew what she was thinking - had the Prophet done something to me? Oh, no, nothing else but reveal the truth. A truth he hoped to fully realize, one day. Holding Tristana onto one hand, he pointed at the Rhyperior's body across the square with his free hand. The body had somehow managed to stay away from the explosion.

"You killed him?!"

"That's what I was told to do. Either I compromised, failed or succeeded. I never compromise, and I rarely fail, as you would know from my past experience," he said, meaning the time he spent in the Ionian Verdict. Crystal had nothing to answer to him.

"The spies were paid by the Cult, only one of them was loyal," Shango continued speaking.

"One of them said Amir was going to be in the square..." spoke Crystal quietly, looking down.

"We'll deal with the traitors later," Shango said in a tone that suggested that he was taking it personally, "now let us just report back to Carlos."

As Shango begun walking away, still holding Tristana onto his hands, Crystal spoke.

"Uhh... Shango? You didn't answer my question... are you alright?"

"I couldn't be better," he said.


***


Shango and Crystal indeed report back to 'Carlos' that very same day. After discussing the darkstar's probable location underneath Yanakard, the Prophet's presence and motives, and Amir's death, they agreed that they would speak to nobody about Shango's fake amnesia. They deemed this was the right choice for the greater good - Shango's skills were needed in the Hashashin. The whole amnesia business would only harm his image and probably get him killed, and that would be 'such a waste', as stated by Pasqual.

In the coming weeks, Shango found multiple opportunities to prove his skills by finding and killing each and every one of the traitors that had given false information to Pasqual, even when they had escaped out of Yanakard's walls.

Years passed, two years, and no sign of the darkstar was found by the miners the Hashashin had hired. That period, the Brotherhood loosened the Dark Cult's grasp over Yanakard and in the end eliminated it completely by killing every single templar that resided in the city. Shango himself had contributed the most to this and he was congratulated by the Master of the Hashashin himself for his progress. Meanwhile, his uncle Pasqual mysteriously disappeared - the day he was going to let Shango know more about his family. He looked for his uncle around the city, and outside, even, but he could not find a single track of him. Without the knowledge of his family, his heart hardened, feeling like he was not destined to find out what had happened after all. He ended up focusing on the Hashashin's cause, instead of escaping, because he knew no better.

The rest of the Hashashin found it difficult to believe that the usually quiet and kindhearted Shango had slowly transformed into a dedicated, deadly assassin. Tristana was scolding him every time he took a life, even though righteousness always guided his claws. In the later years, she had gotten used to it.

Shango had now become the youngest most revered Hashashin of their ranks. The ties of his past were not binding him the way they did back then. Now, he was truly known as Shango Maverick by the rest of the Hashashin, Alexander by the people of Yanakard. As for himself... he knew himself as the Phantom Dancer.

The image of the Spirit of the Hashashin bothered him in his sleep the day before he left Yanakard. In the dream, Shango was facing that hoodied Pokemon who was singing psalms in a foreign language. Yet, it seemed as if he could understand the words more than when he first had the dream five years ago. Its meaning was almost impossible to decode, and when he confessed having such a dream to Pasqual, he could not think of anything either. Shango was convinced the dream was somehow related to the Phantom Dancer. After he infiltrated the Prophet's mind, something was planted on his mind, an idea of world liberation. He named this idea of his the 'Death Lotus'. His view of the world helped him to understand that few Pokemon had power over the Kingdom, and those people would be better off dead, hence the name. For now, he would work with the Hashashin until his incoming promotion to a Shadow Hunter, but he was not planning on staying with them forever. Having worked with it, he had understood how the brotherhood worked and its laws.

Yanakard had been freed from the Dark Cult and 'Alexander' had become their leader. But now, Alexander was merely one of Pasqual's illusions. In reality, the city was now ruled by the Hashashin, therefore their forces were not needed there. One day, Oneiro Nightingale spawned in their hideout from nowhere; the Hydreigon seemed twice as vicious as the last time Shango had seen him. He was not forgetting that Nightingale was the one to kill his parents, and that he would take revenge one day. But that was not his priority right now - he could contain his vengeful feelings as easily as he could contain pain and anger.

Nightingale informed all of the Hashashin in Yanakard that the circus of Ravenscare requested their assistance in Hesperia, specifically Myriapolis city. Everyone except Pasqual and his son departed for the southwest the next day; the journey to Myriapolis proved to be much faster than Shango had thought. A week passed to cross half of Stygia and cross the borders of Hesperia from Ishtero Mountains. To the south of the mountain ranges, the city of Myriapolis was waiting for their arrival.

The forest seemed friendly; Shango was glad to be in Hesperian grounds again, but he would miss Stygia for some weird reason. He walking next to Enzo, barely talking to him as they were both tired. Vincenzo, Bart and Crystal were walking in the front, blabbing about all kinds of things. Shango strongly disliked such chatter, so he had stayed behind with Enzo, who was angry at Vincenzo for scolding him (stealing lollipops is not right) and didn't want to talk to anybody.

Tristana was sitting on Enzo's head, patting it every once in a while. The two seemed to get along - the Ambipom's behaviour was protective againist the spirit of fire. Shango had revealed Tristana to them recently as a 'gift from a stranger he saved'. Crystal had come up with this excuse to permit Tristana to become friends with the rest of the Hashashin - hiding for almost two years was tiring, she figured.

"I'm sad, man, this ain't right," said Enzo, looking straight forward, having an unusual frown. Shango was frowning as well, thinking he would start talking about how all lollipops of Stygia belonged to him rightfully.

"What's up?" he asked, adjusting his cloak's sleeves to hide his claws. Either he had gotten taller, or the cloak smaller.

"I miss Ramos and our stand!" yelled Enzo in despair. Tristana stroked his head with a smile.

"I told you dear Enzo, that we couldn't take the stand with us...!" she said in her cutest voice, bringing a grin to Shango's face.

"And Ramos is already in Myriapolis," Shango reminded him, calming his friend down.

Crystal jerked her head towards them and stopped. All of them stopped and looked at her.

"You two, do you know where we're going?"

"If you mean the forest, no," answered Shango with the same grin, "if you're talking about the city, no as well."

"No, not the forest," said Vincenzo, seemingly impatient to further the conversation. Shango raised his eyebrows; this particular Bisharp was never impatient.

"Let's get to the point," spoke Bart in a quiet voice. "I assume Shango hasn't heard the tale of Myriapolis?"

Shango had indeed heard of the tale, it was one of Ascendio's favourites. The tale was formed fourty years ago, when the Dark Cult launched a sudden assault againist Hesperia... Myriapolis, being only a fortress back then, was the first target of the crusaders. The Ionian Verdict had gathered only a few Pokemon to the defenses, and by the looks of it, they weren't going to last long. But, surprisingly, the fortress of Myriapolis lasted much longer than the Dark Cult had expected - giving the time for Hesperians to gather their forces and ready their armies, managing to ward the Cult off the Empire. The heroes of the Verdict that died that day are still burried inside the city, and they are honoured up until today.




The downpour that had started early this night, right after Karnos's light, was still raging. The falling water pinched their bodies and made clinging noises as the raindrops were hitting on their armours.

The soldiers were exhausted, cold and wet. The mages were looking at the sky with fear in their eyes; this downpour would greatly reduce their fire tricks, and they could only depend on the screens of light they would form to shield them from the enemy attacks.

"Speedster!" shouted Frostheart, a Beartic. They were on top of the fortress's tower, observing the forest beyond the bridge that connected it with the hill the fort had been built.

"Awaiting orders, sir," replied the commander of the melee force, a Lucario, turning to face his superior.

"Take your men and hack that bridge down."

"Understood," said the soldier without blinking.

"We'll prepare something special for that filth, the Cult. They'll be forced to climb the hill to our fortress."

The Lucario nodded, grinning, and left to go gather his men. The sky was lit for a second by a lightning in the horizon; the emblems of the Ionian Verdict on the shoulders of the soldiers shone brightly, along with their armours. Frostheart sighed.

It was terrible, seeing his men like that. He was old, probably around sixty years old, and he was not afraid to die. But the soldiers in the fortress were... young. The members of the Ionian Verdict were too young to die like rats, trapped in a fortress.

The Dark Cult had attacked without a warning, and the first to go down were the northern fortresses of the Hesperian Empire. The Ionian Verdict had spread their members wide in an attempt to protect the Empire's lands, under the King's command. This particular fortress - Myriapolis - was separating Stygia, where the Cult was descending from, from northwestern Hesperia. There was only one hope of stopping the vast Stygian armies; to hold Myriapolis as long as they could, so Hesperia could prepare its forces. Two, three days, Frostheart did not know. All he knew was that they were all dead. Behind them, the powerful Empire was caught off guard to the Cult's assault, and in front of them, somewhere in the dark fog of the forest, was lurking their deadly enemies.

The Dark Cult was dwelling in Stygia for about four and a half centuries, spoiling it with their cruel ways and spreading their religion with force. They were simply preparing for the war againist Hesperia, their original target, having set only one purpose in their minds: to conquer the Holy Lands once again and bring back the Archaics to save the world from the Cataclysm. Of course that ultimately included the destruction of the Hesperian Empire. Their religion was claiming that the Cataclysm was approaching, and that they would save the world, but they were doing it the wrong way. Thousands of lives in Stygia were already lost tried to defending the native grounds, but the Frontier had failed on keeping the Dark Cult back and now it was on Hesperia's doorstep.

The downpour calmed down. The wind started blowing. It was morning and the fog was veiling the hill and the forest as if it were a curtain. They could only guess where the enemy dwelled exactly beyond the destroyed bridge. The scouts of Myriapolis had reported that the Cult was one day away from the fortress. But that was yesterday...

The hill was abrupt, and the bottom certainly not shallow. It wasn't visible, but somewhere down there rested the remains of the wooden bridge. Their enemies would have to climb the cliff of the forest down, cross the little valley to the hill's foot and climb it from there in order to reach the fortress. They had no other way of attacking them.

It wasn't even a day that the Ionian Verdict had arrived in the fortress, when the armies of the Dark Cult had begun marching beyond their grounds. With no other forces nearby, they had hid inside the fortress, preparing their defense. Nobody had hopes of surviving this battle. Everybody knew that this would be the end for them, they would fight with all of their might and they would be deemed as heroes by the King.

***

The worst torture for a soldier is the wait before the battle; nothing is worse than standing behind the miserable rock walls of a fortress and staring at the forest for even the slightest sign of the enemy. Hours passed, the night arrived and the moonlight passed through the clouds to reach the fortress.

"Come on," muttered the leader of the Ionian Verdict. "The Dark Cult should've been here by now."

Speedster leaned againist a wall, crossing his arms. The Lucario seemed the most patient of them all, despite known for the quick pace he did things - that's what had gotten him into a commanding position, anyway. "We didn't think of the possibility of the Stygians bypassing us. Maybe they headed straight into the inner Kingdom."

"But there's no other way," stated Harry the 'Cannonballer', a Magneton. "They'd have to go around the Ishtero Range... I doubt they'd be that stupid."

The Beartic nodded his head in agreement. "Cannonballer's right. We will just wait for them," said Frostheart with the tone of stone-hard determination that deemed him the leader.

***

The forest started rambling with voices that were singing some kind of hymn. The alarm was sound in the fortress; the commanders on top of the tower observed their soldiers. Frostheart half shut his eyes and raised his arm in the soldier's salute. "Everyone, in position!" He shouted and watched the mages position themselves between the openings of the fortress; those Pokemon of the Ionian Verdict were especially trained in ranged combat, and fate had chosen only Pokemon that fought with fire to join the battle of Myriapolis. Simon the 'Pyro Dancer', a massive Volcarona, was floating above the twenty fire-types, coordinating them.

"All set, Frostheart," she shouted without looking at her commander. "Good," he muttered and looked towards the forest. If the Dark Cult would decided to attack from the valley, the fire types would disable alot of them. Thankfully, the rain had ended long ago. The fire types had taken deep breaths and were in perfect stance to continuously shoot fire; timing was crucial, now, but Frostheart had faith in the Volcarona's skills.

The melee force of the Ionian Verdicthad divided into two groups; the first group had positioned themselves right behind the heavy wooden gate of the fortress. They were just twelve soldiers, twenty soldiers remaining in the back. Every Pokemon was wearing a golden armour, except the two Aggrons in the front who were destined to take all attacks from the first forces of the Cult.

Some shadowy forms appeared behind the trees of the cliff. The Dark Cult had reached the fortress. Now their songs had slowly stopped.

"Raise our flag!" ordered Frostheart with his voice travelling into everybody's ears. The golden flag of the Hesperian Empire, bearing both the symbol of the Empire and the Ionian Verdict's under it, rose above the fortress. The soldiers watched the enemy gather on the cliff's edge, looking for the bridge that was supposed to be there.

Two figures approached the spot where the bridge dwelled yesterday. Every soldier in the fortress shuddered in sight of the two of them. The one ahead, about five feet, was wearing a black cloak and hood. He was, without doubt, Ali Kemal, the Prophet of the Dark Cult. The being next to him was engulfed in a mist of pure, dense darkness, and only two red eyes were visible inside it.

"Surrender to me. Join me," said the Prophet in a strange, hypnotizing tone. It seemed like his voice was loud enough to be heard by the whole nature.

"Save it, jarhead! We ain't goin' anywhere!" shouted Speedster, raising his tightened fist. The soldiers admired him; not many had the courage to talk like that to a four hundred years old... Pokemon? Whatever this Prophet was. There were many rumours, rumours of the most powerful being in the omniverse, but the Hesperians didn't really pay attention.

"Such bravery!" exclaimed the Prophet in a sincere manner. "But you are foolish, to stand up to me."

"I bet I can fry your head from where I'm standing!" Yelled somebody from the fire types.

"Take your armies and go back to where you came from!"

"Bastards!"

"Let's see you trying to get in here!"

The figure of Ali Kemal stood firm in front of the fortress. The red eyes in the cloud of darkness turned to look at him, and the Prophet whispered something that echoed in the valley, but was understood from nobody. Frostheart had a sudden realization. He looked at Speedster next to him. "This is Oneiro 'Nightingale'," he said with his eyes wide open. Nightingale was known to be the most vicious warrior of Stygia. A demon, hiding in the darkness, he was the terror of the native Stygians that fought the Dark Cult. He was not just a warrior of legendary power, he was an assassin. And particularly, a member of the Hashashin.

The Lucario stared at the Pokemon, obviously amazed. "Nightingale has terrorized the free Stygians for over thirty years, and we don't even know what species he is. How are we ever going to counter him?" He muttered, frowning. Frostheart was frowning as well. "Our brothers and sisters can hold him off, I'm sure of that."

"The gallant army of the Dark Cult and the Stygian Empire is offering you a chance of redemption," stated the Prophet. "All your efforts of defending Myriapolis will be in vain, and will ultimately lead to your death. We will crush you to death. I am a fair leader - accept our offer, and we will let you live."

Frostheart spoke with his thunderous voice echoing in the valley. "I thought you already got our answer. Or shall we repeat it?" He shouted with a small grin and looked at his soldiers.

"Our answer is NO!" yelled the Pokemon of the Ionian Verdict inside the fortress.

"Come over here, if you've got the guts!" shouted Speedster amongst the others who yelled, "we've got plenty of fire to burn your arses!"

The hoodied figure did not react to the their mouthful comments. The silence of the other side had frozen with the fog of the forest. After a brief moment, the Prophet raised his hand, the sleeves of his cloak revealing two red claws, signaling the horde behind him to attack; some started climbing down the cliff, some went the other way around to climb down the hill.

"Soldiers!" shouted Frostheart, "we will fight with the filth that opposes Hesperia and our King! It is our duty, as the Ionian Verdict, to protect it by all means! Kill the traitorous scum, show no mercy to the wicked ones! FOR THE VERDICT! FOR THE KING!"

The soldiers shouted the last phrases over and over again in response to their leader's speech. They were up againist the bloodthirsty Pokemon of the north, but Frostheart had no doubts of his soldier's capabilities. Death was but a way to honour the brave Gold Tribe members who died serving the King.

The first group of Pokemon in dark steel armours had almost reached the bottom of the abrupt hill, hoping that if they charged using speed they would be able to avoid the fire. "What kind of idiot is leading them?" muttered the Beartic, covering his forehead with his hand.

Running like that in range of the flames of their troops was idiotic, but there was no other way of reaching the fortress. They had no other choice.

"Aim, set! FIRE!" ordered the Pyro Dancer, shouting so she could be heard.

Unexpectedly, fire bursted from the fortress's walls, turning the area of the valley into a hellish maze of flames. The explosion of heat hit the soldiers inside the fortress on their faces. The flames licked their enemies continuously for five seconds, and then they subsided. Some of them had fallen to the ground, burned by the intense heat, but some were still standing, barely though and with burns all over their body.

"Deep breath! Aim, set! FIRE!" the Volcarona repeated, floating above the mages.

The second wave of enemies flinched as the massive blast of fire hit them. The armours of the fallen ones had begun melting, forming pools of steel on the ground. But as the first members of the Dark Cult fell, more climbed the hill down and replaced them. This time, they approached closer to the fortress before the area turned into a blazing hell once again.

"Frostheart! Where is Nightingale?!" Speedster turned to him and shouted so he could be heard through the ramble of the flames. Frostheart glanced at the spot where the cloud of darkness was when the Prophet spoke - now it was covered by charging warriors...

"Behind you!"

Frostheart glanced back, catching a glimpse of pure darkness being launched againist him from the shadows behind the tower's peak. The Beartic sidestepped, ice forming in his tightened fist. A Hydreigon was standing in front of him, but not for long. The being bashed its body againist the leader's golden armour, making him lose his balance. The assassin fell onto him and was about to grip his neck with one of his head-hands, but the blue sphere of materialized aura shot from the Lucario forced him to back off with a swift move and launch a dragon pulse at Speedster that hit the walls of the tower, destroying a large part of them. He then sank into the ground, dispersing into a cloud of shadows and darkness.

"Coward!"

Nightingale appeared in the sky above them and opened all of his mouths wide; Frostheart and Speedster dove to two different directions to avoid the dark pulse that was launched againist the tower. It was on the verge of falling right onto the fortress, burrying the soldiers below.

"Featherlight!" shouted the Beartic, looking at the sky.

The Staraptor with the title Featherlight charged at the dragon with a group of flying Pokemon behind him. The aerial force of the Ionian Verdict was infamous not only for its scouting capabilities, but for its swift actions, too. A mere second before impact, Nightingale vanished once again; the last thing that vanished from him was his devious grin.

Frostheart quickly forgot that the assassin was after him and focused on the battle. His gaze travelled through the valley. He could feel the heat from where he was standing, the ground seemed to be blazing. But the enemy forces had progressed and the fire types were getting tired. The Dark Cult had also brought ranged attackers, it seemed; they had positioned themselves on top of the cliff's edge and they were now staring at the fortress. Meanwhile, the warriors had almost reached the fortress from the valley. Frostheart glanced at Featherlight.

"Stay put, Featherlight!" shouted the Beartic and the Staraptor nodded, landing on a roof next to his brothers and sisters.

Their ranged forces had stopped shooting fire, and the Dark Cult's Pokemon were channeling their powers, right from the Nether Plane. If the Ionian Verdict didn't watch out for this type of assault, they would be blasted to bits in seconds.

"Psyonax," Frostheart shouted to a Gardevoir below him. He was the sole psychic type Pokemon in the fortress. That particular member of the Ionian Verdict was skilled into shielding - the light clay that hanged down his neck in a necklace greatly boosted his power. The Gardevoir eyed his leader for a second, then raised his arms the moment a scream teared the shouts of the charging warriors apart. Frostheart looked up to see a massive shadow ball floating above the heads of the ghost and dark type Pokemon the Cult had. That void was sucking their own nearby soldiers in it, causing them to scream in the face of their horrible death.

A giant golden shield covered the fortress as the sphere of darkness was launched againist it. The moment of impact, a strange, deep sound was heard; the darkness ripped through the shield, but was shattered into hundreds of shadow balls that fell onto the fortress. One of them hit Psyonax on the shoulder, making him flinch, and a second one hit him on the chest. The golden shield vanished as the Gardevoir fell onto the ground unconcious. Frostheart saw the two medics grabbing him and taking him inside a house.

"Speedster, take your men and go!"

The Lucario jumped down from the tower right onto the middle of the Pokemon that were standing in battling positions behind the gates.

"First group, twelve, with me!" Speedster shouted and the soldiers prepared themselves.

"Open the gates!" ordered Frostheart, "Featherlight, take care of those casters!"

"I'm on it," the Staraptor shouted back and launched himself from the roof along with the rest of the flying Pokemon. Now the Ionian Verdict would play all of its cards.

The melee forces, lead by Speedster, bursted out of the fortress and fell directly onto the Dark Cult's soldiers.

"FOR THE VERDICT! FOR THE KING!"

A maze of golden and black steel, battle cries and screams covered the area. The twelve Gold Tribe members of the first group, along with Speedster, were up againist the dozens of soldiers, but they still managed to push them back, forcing them to fight on the blazing grounds. Meanwhile, Featherlight and the aerial forces fell onto the Dark Cult's casters like bullets from the sky, breaking their chain and killing a load of them without harming themselves.

Frostheart crossed his arms, staring at the battlefield. We will die, but we will take alot of them with us. They will pay dearly for our lives, he thought. But just as the battle was taking a good turn, Nightingale appeared in the middle of the aerial force; he hacked through the flying members of the Ionian Verdict with brutal physical hits. They were caught off guard by the powerful assassin and started losing formation. Some of them were hit by blasts of shadows launched by the Hydreigon and others were shot down by the shadow balls the small amount of alive casters channeled. A little portion of the aerial force survived and was chased down by the crazed dragon high up in the sky.

Now the forces of the Cult in the battlefield vastly outnumbered the Ionian Verdict's, and Frostheart was forced to send the rest of the melee forces into battle; the rest twenty soldiers backed up the ones that were defending the gates. The Beartic turned to Simon below him, shouting, "Fireballs, back!"

"Fireballs! Aim at the back! FIRE!" The fire types spat shimmering balls of fire that crossed the battlefield, hitting the forces of the Cult that had just descended from the cliff. Their attacks caused massive damage to the enemy; they were forced to divide their attackers in groups to avoid having any more bombs explode right in the middle of them.

The golden ones in the battlefield fought with honour againist the endless hordes of the Dark Cult. The ground was painted red with blood as they fell one by one, taking many of their opponents with them. No one was afraid of death, and they knew it would eventually come, but they would rest knowing their enemies paid a decent price for their lives.

Frostheart eyed the massive dark figure in the sky, who was finishing off the last of the Ionian Verdict's aerial force; Featherlight was struck by a blast of darkness between his wings and started falling. The dragon now looked straight into the Beartic's eyes with that same grin that would make the innocent shake with fear. Nightingale's figure became a blur as he flew towards the tower with blinding speed. It was time for the leader of the Ionian Verdict to throw his own trump card.

It was like the clouds appeared from nowhere, veiling the whole battlefield and the fortress, joining together with the forest's fog. Two seconds later, it was snowing heavily. A powerful blizzard covered the whole area; the Ionian Verdict retreated behind the walls of the fortress, afraid of freezing to death from their own leader's attack. They had been informed by Frostheart for the blizzard, of course, and they could see it coming themselves.

The once blazing ground was now covered in one feet snow and the Cult's forces had fallen down from the wind that suddenly blew up and were now burried under the snow. The cliff opposing to the fortress was completly hidden by the clouds. The blizzard subsided as fast as it was brought up, Frostheart clutching his head in pain of the intensity of his own powers. He had not used them like that in a while and he was afraid of collapsing right there. His troops had only just closed the gate when the figures of the fallen warriors appeared behind the clouds that were vanishing. Silence, for mere seconds... then suddenly, a massive shadow ball like the one before teared the clouds and crashed againist the wall the fire types were standing, devouring them all and destroying half of the fortress with a terrifying sound and a quake that shook everyone.

The clouds had cleared off, Frostheart could see a set of casters forming a new chain on the edge of the cliff. A new, enormous wave of soldiers in black steel was now charging againist the fortress, ignoring the snow under their feet. The Beartic blinked a few times. They wouldn't survive this attack. Not without the help of ranged casters.

"Soldiers!" he shouted, looking down on the remaining twenty soldiers. "Today is a good day to die!"

"We will show them how a true warrior dies!" yelled the Lucario. Frostheart was about to follow them in the battlefield, but a single thought stopped him...

He turned around, but he was way too late - Nightingale gripped the Beartic's neck with both of his head-hands, raising him two feet high despite his massive weight. Hot blood dripped down the dragon's heads as Frostheart was struggling to breathe. He was unable to cast anything that would save him, the dragon would stop at nothing. Half of the Hydreigon's face was burned from the blizzard Frostheart had launched, along with his body, and now his grin had disappeared.

"You," he said, gritting his teeth with pure hatred reflected on his red eyes, "will die like a rat, not like a warrior!"

Nightingale flung Frostheart onto the rocky floor with might and vanished in the shadows. The last thing the leader of the Ionian Verdict heard as the life slipped away from him was the heroic shouts of Speedster, who fought valiantly defending the gates.

Chapter 18: Femme Fatale

The group bypassed the members of the Verdict that were guarding the entrance to the city. They claimed themselves to be performers and proved it by holding on a show; Shango was laying low, hidden in the shadows, in case any Ionian recognized him. But his identity was well protected under his hood, and they safely made it inside Myriapolis. Hector and Zorthan parted with them, saying they had some business to take care off; Bart the Shadow went somewhere as well, leaving the four Hashashin to find the way on their own. As Crystal led the group through the main street, Shango examined the buildings. The city was huge and no place was out of his reach, as always. Pasqual had not only taught him how to fight like an Hashashin, but acrobatic tricks as well.

"Tonight, we party," said Crystal to the others in a cheerful tone without looking at them. "Well, actually, it'll seem like partying. In truth, we'll be meeting with Nightingale."

"Where are we going?" asked Shango, seeing that the Zoroark was leading them in the darkest of streets. The passerby's seemed suspicious in this corner of the city; Shango wondered if they were outlaws.

"To the Show Dome!"

"What's that?" this time, Vincenzo raised the question.

"How should I know? Probably some entertainment center or whatever," she said as they entered a mass of trees. They walked further into the forest-like area to see red lights in the distance; they had this vibrant glow. They turned out to be Volbeats and Illumise's flying around. Wooden tables were placed on the grass, a stage with red curtains in front of them. Between the Pokemon that were sitting on the tables, Nightingale had laid down next to an empty one. Once the Hydreigon saw them approaching, he raised his head subtly.

"Here so soon?" he said with a terrible grin.

"Yeah, we kicked up the pace after we found out we were being followed in Holon forest," said Vincenzo in a calm manner, however Nightingale perked up all of his heads. He was taller than all of them, even though laying on the ground.

"Were you followed here?"

"No, silly," spoke Crystal fearlessly, "they're all dead."

The Hydreigon gritted his teeth. "Nobody calls me 'silly'. You're risking your head, miss."

Crystal didn't respond as she knew she was truly pushing it. Nightingale had killed more of his own than any other Hashashin had, as he was bringing the justice amongst the brotherhood. Those unfaithful to it would have to face him or run; no Pokemon had survived the Hydreigon, and that is exactly why he was a revered Shadow Hunter. The only reason he was not going to inherit the Master's rank from Ignacio was that he was extremely vicious.

The dragon had now calmed down, though. "Sit wherever you want and enjoy the show - then, we talk about business. Understood?"

Crystal and Vincenzo sat on the table next to Nightingale, but Shango didn't like this spot. If he was forced to watch the show, he would pick a good spot in the middle of the area. Enzo followed him to another empty table and sat down on the wooden chairs.

"How is the entrance free?" Shango wondered out loud, looking around for any personel that would take care of that. He clutched his belt, where he kept his gold and his emblem, and stared at the red curtains.

"Dunno," said Enzo, and soon, the area fell silent and the fireflies had disappeared. A spotlight appeared on the middle of the curtains; Shango glanced behind him, seeing an Ampharos generating light towards the stage. Two shadows appeared next to the stage and pulled the curtains open, but Shango couldn't care less. He had his eyes fixed on the Pokemon standing on stage, which was definitely the most beautiful female he had laid eyes upon. It was a Ninetails with red eyes that were glimmering hypnotizingly, her fur was shiny and luscious and her nine tails were constantly moving in a captivating manner. Her movement was also charming and delicate.

She started singing. No music for the background, there were no lyrics, her voice was enough; it was that of a siren's. Shango laid back on his chair and watched her every movement carefully with his ears perked up, but he soon realized that the hood was not allowing him to get a full load of what was in front of him. Enzo next to him seemed hypnotized as well; he didn't even notice Shango removing his hood, which was a great crime for an Hashashin to pull off in public. But he could care less right now, as all it mattered was to stare at the Ninetails, who scanned the crowd with her passionate eyes. Tristana was pulling Enzo's hand, trying to get him snapped out of it.

Their eyes met for a fatal moment. In his later years, Shango admitted that he had never removed his hood that day, but at that moment it didn't matter at all. He thought he was seeing the world through her eyes. The moment passed and she looked away, having a subtle smile on her face. Still singing the song that had captivated his heart, she walked amongst the tables, with her long tails dancing around like flames. As she circled, Shango was staring at her, waiting for her to arrive at his table. She apparently chose Shango's table for the last one, as she stopped singing once she was close to him.

Shango had not realized it, but he was still clutching his belt tightly. She quickly took noticed of it.

"What brings you here, Hashashin?" she asked in the softest of whispers that seemed to be imbued with magical power. Shango thought she had seen his emblem. Not good. However, she had not even noticed Enzo, who was drooling. That was good.

"What do you think?" he replied to her question with a question, having a subtle grin that didn't seem normal. Their eyes were locked onto each other. She paced next to his chair and lifted her front leg to put her paw on his chest; her smile was beyond beautiful.

"I think you came here for me... isn't that right?" she said in a seducing voice that made her seem even more gorgeous, "what do your friends call you?"

Shango would take a leap forward now - there was no going back after the name giving to a citizen. Was this Ninetails a citizen, though?

"My name's Shango," he stated, trying to calm his heartbeats down. She was so close to him, but in a second she was gone.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, giggling and turning away. Her soft tails stroked his face; he had a feeling she did that on purpose. Suddenly, he felt extremely happy and sad at the same time - happy because of what he had felt, and sad because she was gone. The red curtains were pulled, closing and hiding the Ninetails from sight.

It was Shango's turn to get pulled by Tristana. He only realized she was talking to him after half a minute.

"Huh? What'd you want?"

Before she could answer, Enzo grabbed her with his tail and shut her mouth, hiding her under his cape. Shango quickly put on his hood again before the Ambipom could see him without it.

"Dude, do you know who that was?" Enzo asked him as if he knew who she was.

"My next conquest?" Shango said, smiling and laying back on his chair with his hands as pillows for his head as he looked at the night sky.

"It was the countess Claire La Fayette," Enzo stated, Shango detecting worryness in his voice for some reason. Shango jerked his head towards his friends.

"Countess?" he asked, with a scandalized expression. "She's married?"

"Yeah, and guess to whom..." muttered Enzo; just then, Crystal whistled them to come over. The fiery lights on the sky had reappeared. "Count Desmondius. You'll see now."

Enzo said and they went over to Nightingale and the others. Shango spotted Crystal's suspicious look and meaningful smile; he only managed to smile back.

"Alright," said Nightingale when they reached the table, "now that we're all here, let's get over with the details."

The Hydreigon looked at all of them one by one, ensuring he had gotten their full attention.

"We didn't travel halfway across Stygia to waste our time with shows and parties," he said in a tone that made it clear he was dead serious. "We have been hired by the Count of Myriapolis, namely Desmondius, to clean the town up from any member of the Ionian Verdict we come across."

Shango's heart jumped upon hearing those words. He figured it was inevitable, but that was not the worse part; Nightingale continued talking. "And our main target is Jericho Santaros, who's visiting the city."

Crystal glanced at Shango, worried about the outcome of this mission would be. Now that she knew about his past connections to the Verdict, she would think of the possibility of Shango betraying the Hashashin, given the chance, but he had no intentions of doing that. He had found the home he never had in the Hashashin, despite Ascendio who took great care of him. He was missing the Scizor alot, but he did not want to do anything to see him again. It would be too risky. But, kill the Chancellor of Ionia, Jericho Santaros himself? That would officially mark the end of his ties with the Verdict, and if they ever got to know he was alive and responsible for the Chancellor's death, they would surely hunt him down. Not that he was afraid for his own life - rather, he was afraid of the other's lives.

Nightingale's fierce voice brought him back to reality from the rift of his thoughts.

"Tomorrow night, we're holding a show on the square of this city; the whole circus of Ravenscare will be there, so better get ready for the show."

"What's happening tomorrow?" asked Vincenzo, crossing his arms. Shango knew what he was thinking. He was thinking whether he would stay up all night, 'taming' Ramos or he would be part of the action. That's how the Hashashin worked back in Yanakard; big part of them held the show to keep the people occupied, and the rest did the killing, nice and quietly. Templars who wanted to investigate the Ravenscare stand were always caught in that trap and were never seen alive again.

"Tomorrow," started the Hydreigon, inhaling, "our target will accompany the Count and the Countess to our big show. We'll make sure it's his last show. Is that understood?" he asked in a quiet, menacing tone that was suggesting he would not tolerate failure.

The Hashashin nodded and were about to go, but Nightingale stopped them. "One or two more thing, Hashashin. The public must not know that the Count is behind this. And, if you encounter any trouble with the Ionians, our friends Hector and Zorthan will help you."

Shango decided to go in for his question; he never asked questions before the deed, but this was completly different. "Why does the Count want to assassinate the Chancellor?"

The Hydreigon slowly turned all of his heads towards him and stared at him intently. "We are not aware of this information, and it should matter none to us. Master has approved of this mission and his word should be enough to guarantee our profit from this death."

Shango said nothing more, because it would seem as if he was trying to defend the Chancellor - and then, suspicion about amnesia would rise. As the Hashashin left the area one by one, Tristana flew from Enzo's head where she resided this whole time invisible and appeared onto Shango's shoulder. After Nightingale was gone, Crystal grabbed his arm and pulled him close to her.

"Shango," she whispered, but Shango raised his hand.

"I will not cross you. The past stays where it is."

The Zoroark looked at him for a bit and fell silent.

"I'll have my eyes on you, just in case."

"Once an Hashashin, always an Hashashin," was his response, and he winked at her. Crystal immediately got cheery again and poked his chest with her elbow. She had one of these naughty expressions.

"Lucky you," she said. At first, Shango didn't get what she was talking about, but then... the image of the Ninetails suddenly stormed his mind. Claire. That was her name. Claire La Fayette.

"Are you talking about Claire?" Shango inquired. There was a little something in his tone that convinced Crystal that something was going on. "Enzo wasn't so sure about 'lucky'. Says she's married."

"Oh come on, you know those rich people. Marriages are simply an eccentric custom of theirs."

"I like the way you think," he said with a charming smile. This smile under the hood had made him famous in Yanakard.

"I don't like this Claire," said Tristana blatantly, with an expression that revealed disapproval. Shango raised his eyebrows.

"Why not?"

"I dunno..." the Victini whispered. Crystal grabbed Shango's arm again and pulled him towards the exit.

"C'mon, we need to catch up with the others."


***


They spent the night on a luxurious home designed especially for them; Bart informed them the next morning that it was provided by the Count himself, at least the gold that was used to build and decorate it. Shango commented that this Count was awfully rich, and when Bart showed him a painting of him on the wall (he was a Gengar), he also commented how ugly he was.

They woke up relatively early to have their meal cooked by a surprisingly friendly Banette that passed through the walls of their house. In the dining room, there was a long table and a fireplace on its side; they had their breakfast next to the fire that had been set by the Banette magically. The Hashashin were sitting on extremely expensive chairs that were made of a kind of wood Shango had never seen before; the other furniture were made of the same material, and Shango had taken great liking in it.

Nightingale didn't need a chair, he was simply laid down on the floor on his belly; Enzo reported to Shango that the Hydreigon had trouble getting through the door, and when the two bursted into laughter, Nightingale shot a deadly glance at them, surely aware of what the subject of their laughter was. Bart the Shadow was sitting next to the dragon; the Accelgor had trouble eating the food that was served (vines that looked like noodles and blue sauce made from oran berries), resulting in more laughters from Shango and Enzo. When they finished their breakfast, Nightingale spoke in a thunderous voice that helped wake everyone up.

"Now, everyone. We should be gathering more information regarding the Ionian Verdict throughout the day. Where do they reside? Is the building heavily guarded, and how? Are they able to counter us when we strike?"

He then proceeded in assigning everybody into certain parts of the city, where they would gather the necessary information. Part of the main street, where all the travellers gathered at various shops and inns, was given to Shango. He took it without complain, figuring that would probably be the most quiet side of the city. They were soon dismissed.


***


Shango begun his search right from the entrance of Myriapolis and worked his way up towards the square. In two hours, he was done scanning the whole area; him and Tristana had seen more than two patrols of the Ionian Verdict. Shango made sure to disappear every time they noticed him - cloaks were not welcome in Hesperia. The Prophet was said to wear a cloak and a hood during his lectures four hundred years ago, and the Empire grew weary of them. He had put away the shiny emblem of the Hashashin, but the guards still approached him. He was merely hiding in a dark corner, avoiding them.

The people in Hesperia were much more cheerful than Stygia; he could almost smell the foolish kindness of the travellers and citizens in the air. He leaned againist a wall, observing the flow of the Pokemon that passed by, until his eye caught something; fiery tails next to a gallant fountain that represented a Charizard and an Aerodactyl spitting water.

He quickly recognized the beauty of last night amongst the crowd. Countess Claire was sitting in front of the fountain, next to some bushes; she had not seen him.

"Shango!"

He jerked his head to see the person he expected less at the moment: Hector. His wild fur was shaken by the wind.

"What's this?" he asked when he reached him, glancing towards Claire. His rough voice suddenly got calmer and an exact copy of Shango's charming smile appeared on his face.

"I see..."

"Are we related?" Shango couldn't help but let this off his chest. Hector looked at him again, from head to toe.

"No, I don't think so..." he said, mockingly. Yet, Hector was almost the same as him. Before Shango could argue, the other Zangoose departed to the direction of Claire.

Tristana, who was invisible as always, whispered into his ear. "I'd swear he is as charming as you!"

As she started giggling, Shango approached Hector and Claire under the coverage of the moving crowd. He perked up his ears, eavesdropping.

"Countess Claire," said Hector in a completely different voice. It was like the feral spirit that sounded like it'd tear you apart was now covered by multiple layers of maturity. Hector kneeled in front of her and grabbed hold of her paw. "I'm enchanted."

"Oh, my," the Ninetails said and laughed. "And who would you be?"

"Hector Imperatore, at your service," he said in the same smile. Shango was staring at Claire and Claire only, her charms having completly ensnared him.

"Ah, the Imperatores... I have heard quite alot about you," she said in a rather uninterested tone that made Shango chuckle quietly. He was too busy observing Claire to wonder who the Imperatores were exactly. Despite Claire's response, Hector would not give up; Shango did not hear to the rest of the conversation, as he went ahead. He gently pushed Hector away from Claire.

"Please," he said to Hector, still side looking at the Ninetails. Hector seemed furious, but Claire giggled.

"You are that Hashashin... what's your name again?"

Shango didn't lose his smile, however, his mind was stormed by emotions. Right after, they were erased by logic: she was doing this on purpose, simply to tease him. He stared at her trying to grasp all of her beauty, but it seemed impossible - he would have to stare at her for days, weeks, months.

"Shango's my name," he insisted. Hector crossed his arms with a subtle, slightly mocking grin on his face. Shango realized that Claire knew Hector, at least visually, as she had let him know that the hoodied Pokemon in front of them was an Hashashin.

"You two look quite alike," she said in her captivating tone, her voice sounding like music their ears. "Why don't you remove your hood? So I may be able to compare you."

Shango didn't like the idea, but there was no other choice. He felt unconfortable without his hood on - he was used to its protection and darkness. Now he was feeling vulnerable, somehow, not by Claire, but by Hector and the crowds. The eyes of the Ninetails looked like precious jewels as she examined both of them.

"I don't suppose your second name is Imperatore, dear Shango?"

"No, it is not."

Shango was almost sure she was going to ask for his second name, but he was not sure if he would give her that - that would compromise the brotherhood by giving away the family's name, putting all of its members in danger, if he had any left...

Zorthan interrupted them quite abruptly; the Reuniclus gravitated two feet above the ground, moving as fast as he could.

"Hector, we have complications," he said, looking quite serious. Then he turned to Claire. "Greetings, Countess."

"Hello, Zorthan," she said as the Reuniclus pulled Hector towards him. The Zangoose seemed furious as he threw a look at Shango, implying this was not over. The distractions left. Perfect. Claire let out a small sigh, looking at the ground. For a second, Shango enjoyed the moment. The sound of the falling water behind them, the intriguing scent that was coming from the Countess and the slight breeze.

"Ah, he finally left us alone!" Claire spoke, more to herself rather than Shango. He was still smiling, as everything was going fine. She looked at him and paced forward, closer to him. Shango could feel the intensity of her flames, his own face burning up.

"Now, Shango, about your second name..." Claire spoke in her seducive voice, looking up at him with her red eyes glowing. She was relatively shorter than him, and that gave him a strange feeling of ironical superiority. He had certainly gotten carried by her powerful rift of beauty and irresistible charm; so much, that he could not say no.

"Maverick, lady Claire," he muttered, almost hypnotized.

"Maverick, interesting."

The Ninetails raised her head to look above his shoulder. She let out a giggle and Shango jerked his head towards the direction she was looking at. A Gengar, Count Desmondius no doubt, followed by two Dusknoirs, was headed their way through the crowd. Shango quickly put his hood on.

"Listen, Hashashin, and listen carefully," Claire spoke again and Shango jerked his head back to face her.

"I need you to do me a favour... would you be kind enough to help me, Shango?" she whispered, Shango realizing there was absolutly no way of saying no, even if she asked him to gather all the treasures of the world and give them to her. The way she pronounced his name made his ears twitch.

"Anything..." he managed to say, out of infatuation.

"That Gengar you're seeing there, he is my husband. I don't like him, at all."

Shango raised his eyebrows, looking straight into her eyes. She continued speaking quickly but effectively.

"I want you to... take care of him."

He knew this was coming somehow, and the fact that an innocent-looking lady like the Countess mentioning death so blatantly didn't hinder him at all. Meanwhile, Count Desmondius had stopped to argue with the Ionian Verdict's guards; the Dusknoirs had raised their fists in a threatening manner.

"I'll need to think of this," he said, regaining his self control and adopting a flirtatious tone that always worked. "Why don't we discuss this somewhere more privately?"

"That's such a good idea, dear Shango!" she said, gifting him a beautiful smile that shone brightly. Shango pretended to be blinded, raising his hand in front of his hood and turning away.

"Don't do that, it's blinding."

As the Ninetails laughed, Shango chuckled as well, unable to hold himself back. When Claire stopped, she looked at him, her eyes glowing again.

"How about you come by my house, tomorrow night?" she asked seductively yet innocently at the same time, looking at the ground and stroking the grass in front of her with her paw playfully.

Shango simply nodded, as he was afraid he would say anything wrong out of his infatuation. This had never happened to him before - usually, he had the upper hand. Not that he didn't like this situation.

He could now sense the ghost-type Pokemon behind him.

"It's time for me to go," he said as he gently touched her chin with his claw, having a smile that would look malicious under different circumstances. Claire closed her eyes momentarily, seemingly overcome by feelings, and when she opened them again, Shango was gone, as expected.

Count Desmondius was staring at the dark alley the hoodied 'assailant' of his wife had disappeared into. The Hashashin was sitting on his ankles on top of a roof, observing the scene; the Gengar started shouting some nonsense, and as he did so, Claire raised her head, spotting him. She had a subtle, meaningful smile on her face despite her husband's blabbing.

Chapter 19 I seem to have lost. Don't worry, it wasn't significant to the storyline. Moving onto the 20th chapter!




As Jericho Santaros and Count Desmondius went through the guards to disappear into the Cathedral, Shango examined the building. He was sitting on his ankles on the tip of a nearby roof, with the silent Tristana flying about above his head. The Cathedral seemed unclimbable from this angle, even for Shango.

"What now, Tristy?"

He was asking for her advice quite often, as she always had answers. Though small and unable to aid him in combat, Tristana was useful in many other ways. She flew higher, staring at the Cathedral; then she dove towards him, landing on his shoulder.

"There is a tower where the bells are in the back of the building," she said. Shango turned to look where she was pointing; behind the Cathedral, a tower was built almost into the mountain.

"Let's see if we can climb this," he said, more to himself, launching himself from roof to roof, circling around the Cathedral until he reached the mountain. The rocks were perfectly climbable, at least by his standarts; his claws easily found their way in the openings. He worked his way towards the Cathedral on his left, picking up the pace. At times, his feet had nowhere to step on, but he had no other problems. His cape was waving with the wind, a thunder sounded in the distance. Soon, it had started raining.

"I don't like rain," Tristana cried as she flew above him. Shango did not answer as he had focused his attention on hanging from the rocks.

Shango reached a point where he could jump to the tower with the bells on its top. So he did, kicking his body away from the rocks. He landed on the bell, hugging it. It barely moved under his weigh, but he had trouble holding onto it.

"Woops," he muttered, looking straight down at the floor of the open tower; no stairs, just a rope that was used to ring the bell. He slipped away and started falling inevitably, the floor coming straight at him. Out of instict, he found and gripped the rope, stopping his flight. His paw was burnt off from the friction, and the bell sounded.

Shango would bet the entire city had heard that, but he didn't care at the moment: the Cathedral would be alerted that something was wrong. He got up and hid in the shadows next to the exit of the tower, where light was coming from. Someone was approaching quickly, and Shango figured that someone would soon die for their curiosity. In a spurr of the moment, he imagined two blades extending from his vambraces - he had given up doing that a long time ago - and surprisingly, it happened. Two lines of purple essence glowed out of each vambrace, being materialized into blades that were twice as long as his claws.

"Woah," Tristana had just landed on his shoulder.

A Kirlia dressed in black entered the tower, staring at the moving rope. She then jerked her head to face Shango behind her. She could only see the lower half of his face and the reflection of the moon on his blades. Before she could scream, two of the blades went right through her belly.

"I am sorry," Shango said; the blades vanished from his vambraces, leaving a great wound on the Kirlia's body. He grabbed the back of her head and her back, preventing her from falling, placing her gently on the ground and kneeling above her. Shango had been in this situation more times than he'd like to admit - he knew very well what the feeling of the impending death was bringing. The noun tried to say something, but Shango stopped her.

"Die in silence, if you believe in the after life."

The life did slip away from the Kirlia in a matter of seconds, and Shango left her right where she was. He did not agree with the views of the Dark Cult about the life and the after life, but he still respected their beliefs. He wouldn't show any mercy, however...

Tristana flapped her wings nervously above him as he walked through the corridor that connected the Cathedral with the tower. There was light coming from the door ahead.

"Shango, please don't kill any more innocents..." she whispered in a desperate tone. "It's not their fault if they were at the wrong place the wrong time..."

"The cause is blessing my ways."

Tristana was unable to counter his wisdom, mainly because she agreed with it, but also because she failed every time she tried.

Shango tested his blades again; indeed, the purple essence appeared again and the blades materialized on his vambraces. Later, he would study more ways of activating and manipulating this power.

Shango peeked through the door; corridors to the right and left, and another door right in front of him. Torches on the walls were lighting the place up; his ears were picking up multiple footsteps nearby.

"Tristy, do your thing," he whispered, glancing at the fairy above him. She instantly vanished, and a second later, the fire from the torches was absorbed. Darkness filled the corridors, allowing Shango to walk forward. Opening the door in front of him, he saw it was the storage room, so he chose to walk to the left. Tristana absorbed any flames she encountered ahead of him. Shango was walking silently next to the wall, observing the darkness with extreme focus. He wondered where Jericho and Desmondius had gone and what they were planning; or where they were, for that matter. Would he have to search the entire Cathedral? Just when he was circling these thoughts around his mind, a door opened in the far end of the corridor, allowing some beams of light to pass through and light the darkness. A female Mawile, dressed in black like the Kirlia, exited the door and fixed her eyes on the dark corridor.

"Huh?"

Tristana flared up, still invisible. Shango stood right next to the wall, silent as ever. The noun was stopped from investigating, as a second Mawile exited the room.

"Come on, the Prophet has ordered the blessing!"

The Prophet? So he is here... the nouns turned towards the corridor where the lights were on. As Tristana landed quietly on his shoulder, Shango walked right behind the nouns. If they turned around, they would see him; but he was betting he could be as silent as death himself.

The nouns stopped and faced to the left, a big wooden door with strange symbols on it. Shango bypassed them and stood behind them; there were no torches around, thankfully, and a fine line of shadows offered him temporary hideout. The nouns opened the door, and Shango picked up several voices from inside. He slipped into the chamber right after the Mawiles and stood againist the wall, the shadows veiling him.

It was a circular, dark chamber with a round table on the middle, a red carpet under it. The source of light was coming from a massive window that was forming a painting with smaller, differently coloured windows; the moonlight passed through those windows, coming off as different colours that fell on the table in the middle of the chamber. The vibrant light created a ghostly, heart gripping atmosphere. Shango noticed with awe that the painting of the window was two Zoroarks: one black and one white Zoroark that were standing againist each other. In the middle of them, eight gems on a flower-like formation were floating mid-air.

"The darkstars..." Shango whispered, out of breath.

Above the Zoroarks, two subtle figures could be seen: the God of White and the God of Black, Reshiram and Zekrom. They seemed to be flying above the two. Underneath the painting, more windows formed multiple figures of various Pokemon Shango could not define. He had a feeling that this drawing was hiding the meaning of the universe, and he would study it if he ever had the time. This seemed to be a secret chamber of the Cathedral, which meant entrance to the public was not allowed. He would have to come back another time.

Shango's eyes fell on the table. Seven chairs were placed all around it, each of them having strange wooden designs. He could not see them clearly due to the darkness that covered them, but it was little of importance right now; the nouns walked up to the table and seeing it empty, they turned around and exited the chamber. Shango awaited in the shadows for about ten minutes, stroking Tristana's head to relieve his tension. His little fairy was giving him more courage than he'd ever admitted, but Tristana knew it and she was always gifting him smiles at times like this.

The nouns returned to the chamber carrying a plate that held seven cups and a bottle. Shango's nostrils caught a strange smell - alcohol. He heard the sound of liquid being poured into cups. The whole procedure seemed like an eternity to Shango, who was dwelling on the thought of the Prophet being in Myriapolis without the Hashashin notice.

As they placed the cups on the table in front of the chairs accordingly, the nouns quickly exited the chamber silently. Just then, a door in the other end of the chamber that Shango had not noticed bursted open; the familiar, black hood of the Prophet appeared through the doorstep and walked with grace towards the table. He took the sit that was facing straight to the window and joined his hands together. The light that came through the white Zoroark hit him, making him seem like a ghost; Shango saw red claws exiting the sleeves of the Prophet.

Not long after that, voices were heard from the door the Prophet had not closed - Jericho and Desmondius walked into the chamber, and they stopped talking once they saw the Prophet. The Chancellor, being an Armaldo, had trouble sitting on the chair. The Count simply slipped right onto it, levitating. A red glow fell onto the Gengar, making him seem extremely evil and vicious. That was not the image he was projecting earlier.

More voices were heard, and Shango jerked his head towards the door. Two Pokemon entered, and when light fell onto them, Shango opened his eyes wide from the shock: the Hesperian King Eoleo Nagrand was walking towards the chamber. The Empoleon seemed different from the last time Shango had seen him; but his conversation partner shocked him even more. It was a Beartic, an enormous and powerful Pokemon that was wearing a tristanite plate armor - Shango recognized him from the paintings he had seen as the monarch of the Illinkar, Ingvar. He had heard various stories of his viciousness; this Pokemon had killed the two generals with whom he ruled the Illinkar tribe, gaining full control of the nation. He was the one to commence the war againist South Altica, descending further into that part of Stygia. Of course, that costed thousands of lives to be lost.

King Eoleo and Ingvar sat next to each other on the left side of the table, againist Jericho and Desmondius and next to the Prophet. Two spots were now left: the one againist the Prophet, right under the window, and the one to the right of that spot.

The silence that fell on the room was almost unbearable, but after a minute, somebody else entered the chamber: a massive Haxorus with a pirate hat and a black sash tied around his belt walked with heavy steps towards the table, to sit next to King Eoleo. Shango was unable to tell for sure, but he was suspecting that this Haxorus was Heil of the Axe, Angstrom being his real name, the leader of the pirates of Novaya Islands. These pirates roamed the south sea, causing trouble for Hesperians; the Verdict had little interest in dealing with them, however. Shango had the sudden realization: in this very chamber, the most powerful Pokemon of both Empires, of the whole middle world, were gathered.

After another minute of silence, the Prophet spoke with that vibrant, hypnotizing voice that echoed in the chamber.

"Gentlemen," he started, "first of all, I welcome you to my Cathedral. It is a pleasure to have you all here."

"Not everyone's here, Ali," said the pirate Haxorus; a green beam of light was falling on Angstrom.

"... yes, it would seem so."

Everyone was staring at the empty seat next to Jericho and Angstrom.

"It is such a pity, don't you think? I would expect that particular Pokemon to show up every time," said the Prophet in a slightly mocking tone that was understood by everyone in the room. Shango's heart was beating faster than any other time. Just what the hell is going on in here?

"Ah, but enough of that," the Prophet made a gesture with his hand to show his irritation. He turned his hood towards King Eoleo and the Illinkar monarch, Ingvar.

"I hear you have replaced yourselves with makeshifts. Impressive!" he said and clapped his red claws together, creating slight metallic noises. His tone gave away the grin under the hood.

"It seemed like the best solution," said Eoleo; Shango was getting a different vibe from the new Eoleo. Could it be possible that he was fooled by a makeshift for three whole years? But no, that would mean that another Empoleon on this world knew about the darkstar. Ingvar nodded quietly; the Beartic seemed serious, deadly and silent.

"Let us not waste any more time," said the Prophet and grabbed hold of the cup in front of him, raising it in the air. "It is time for our prayer."

Shango did not know what to make of this. Were they all members of the Dark Cult? It was just too much to grasp; King Eoleo, member of the Dark Cult? But he was soon proven wrong.

"Before we start this thing," spoke the Illinkar monarch, "I'd like to place this complaint. I don't like having our meeting in the Cult's grounds."

The Prophet stared at him down; Shango could feel the intensity of his look, even though it could not be seen. But his words neglected Shango's thoughts: they were not members of the Cult, if they spoke about it as if it was a hostile faction.

"What do you suggest we do, then?" he whispered calmly.

"There are many neutral places where we could gather. I cannot leave my troops unattended for a long time, either - the trip from northern Stygia to here took me three weeks."

"We will arrange something accordingly by the end of this session," said the Prophet coldly, his words signaling the end of the matter. They all raised their cups in the air and started an hymn.

"We, the Endarkened Ones, swear full devotion to our creed and promise our entire cooperation to it. We work as many, to serve the single cause."

As Shango heard their voices echo in the chamber, he sat on the floor quietly. These Pokemon were controlling the whole world. It did not matter that they were from completly opposite factions, like the Illinkar tribe and the Cult or the King and the pirates, there they were, united in a single table. How could this be? These people must have had something in common. The Endarkened Ones. Who was their missing member? Shango remembered that the Hashashin worked for Count Desmondius in Myriapolis - who had assigned them with the death of Jericho Santaros. So, the Count was planning on betraying one of their own.

They drank from their cups and then the Prophet started talking again.

"Now, let us proceed to our discussing our important matters. As you may very well be aware of, the greatest enemy of our creed has emerged into our world once again. Yes, that is correct, gentlemen - Alexander has liberated Yanakard from the Dark Cult's rule."

Many things surprised Shango at that point: Alexander, his father, being an enemy of the Endarkened Ones? So, that is what uncle Pasqual had meant by him getting involved into far greater things. He had found out about this creed, the Endarkened Ones. But he also wondered why the Prophet was talking about the Dark Cult, his own Cult, as if it was another faction. Could this creed be a faction by itself, that merely controlled all of the others?

"From what we have gathered," the Prophet continued, "we have serious reasons to believe that the death of our old member, the Stygian General Karnos, was caused by this Hashashin. The General's death could not be substantial - the assassin behind this knew his connection to us. Rumours have it that it was Alexander who infiltrated the Black Citadel's palace and killed him on cold blood."

Silence fell amongst the Endarkened Ones, giving Shango some time to think of that - he had indeed heard of the death of the Stygian General two years ago, as it created a massive fuss over the Empire. But he had never heard Alexander was rumoured to be behind it; how could that be? Two years ago, he was the one pretending to be Alexander in Yanakard. And his father was dead for fifteen years.

"But we suspect that such information is incorrect - he was dealt with ages ago, and we have proof for his death. Our missing member was the one to bring it to us."

Ionian Chancellor Jericho spoke then. "Do not forget that Alexander was also aware of the darkstars."

"Ah, of course..." said Count Desmondius in an unearthly voice. "That fiasco in Ishtero Monasteries costed us a darkstar, bringing us back to square one."

Ingvar spoke next. "I say that Oneiro 'Nightingale' should have been punished for this failure! It was wrong of us to decide againist it."

"Calm down, gentlemen," said the Prophet in a tone that seemed able to calm down the most ferocious of beasts. "The punishment of Oneiro 'Nightingale' would have been such a waste for his skills and abilities. Confering upon him death would bring trouble, too."

Shango had a feeling he knew what the Prophet was talking about: Nightingale wouldn't go down easily. He had not earned the title and legend of the deadliest Pokemon in Stygia by following orders.

"Our search for any signs of the darkstar has proved vain," said the Prophet in a sincere tone that gave away sadness. "But we have a certain possible location in mind; the problem is, it is unreachable."

Silence again, until Jericho spoke. "We are talking about Alamagna, correct?"

"Precisely."

Shango recalled hearing tales of the old capital of Stygia, which now laid in ruins; the whole southwestern world of Stygia had gotten a wrong turn after its destruction. The citadel of Alamagna was now covered in a circular, black barrier that contained the terror inside it; nobody knew exactly what had happened in there. Some say an event took place that drew the void towards the citadel, fully consuming it. No Pokemon to enter the dark barrier ever returned, and those that had studied the void from the outside perspective had reported massive shadows that appeared from time to time, indicating the presence of living beings. Corpses could also be seen from the outside; they had not been decomposed for the whole time Alamagna was at that state.

The consuming of Alamagna took place four hundred years ago, a few years before Chantalai Ancelotti's death. And now, the Endarkened Ones were suspecting a darkstar to be found in Alamagna?

"But how could we ever retrieve it?" asked Count Desmondius.

"I do not know... I haven't had the time to study the void myself," muttered the Prophet, obviously lost in thought as he held his forehead.

"Damned void, it ruins all of our plans!" said Angstrom. His pirate hat had been slightly tilted. The Prophet turned slowly to face him, and they stared at each other.

"The darkstars, much like the void itself, is a gift, Angstrom."

"That's what the Cult believes, and not what we, the rest, believe, and you should be aware of that," Ingvar replied to the Prophet.

"Acceptable," commented the Prophet, holding himself back. "On the matter of Alamagna, we should proceed into spreading some more propaganda about the void - it keeps people off, and attention will soon be drawn out."

The others nodded, agreeing with the Prophet. Shango thought it was natural they could spread propaganda. Speech was one of their greatest weapons of manipulating the world, surely.

"About our next subject, gentlemen. Our proposed alliance with the Fire Clan has passed through - Firelord Sigmund Blados will be attending to our next meeting," said the Prophet and waited for their responses.

"This alliance is pointless," said strictly King Eoleo.

"I agree with Eoleo - we cannot profit from it in any way," added the pirate leader Angstrom. So Sigmund Blados was still alive, even after he was thrown into the depths of the chamber underneath the Fire Clan's camp in the Scortching Steppes. That Typhlosion was holding the darkstar Shango had touched, which was now under Eoleo's control. The Hesperian King did not wish for the alliance of the Endarkened Ones and the Fire Clan because he was afraid of Sigmund mentioning the darkstar! As for Angstrom, it was obvious that the Fire Clan bothered the pirates.

"The matter is out of question, for now," said the Prophet in a menacing tone. "Sigmund Blados has offered us information regarding a darkstar. Besides, those who do know about the darkstars best be our allies than our enemies."

The Prophet stood up, leaving his cup in front of his seat as if he was never there. "And with that, this conference is dismissed. Be patient, gentlemen, our time is nigh."

They all stood up and one by one walked out of the room, closing the door behind them; Shango stood sat down for hours and hours, circling all the information he had gotten around his mind, until he decided to get out of the Cathedral.

Chapter 21: Visiting a Diva

The morning sun rose from the mountains of the east, sheding light all around the houses with the red roofs. Myriapolis slowly started bursting with activity, but Shango made sure to avoid the busy roads of the city. He was walking quickly and with his head down; the events he had taken part into were mind snaring, and he needed to share all of his thoughts with Tristana immediately. The little fairy was sitting on his left shoulder, like always, listening to him talk. She was invisible, and Pokemon who heard him were thinking he was crazy, but he didn't care at the moment.

"So, Tristy, there is this organization," he was saying in a strange tone as if he was hypnotized, "which runs both the Empires, it knows about the darkstars..."

Shango turned to look at her for a moment; her cute face seemed petrified. "... and it consists of the most powerful individuals of the world as we know it..."

He paused a second, stopping himself from pacing. He took some breaths. "Doesn't that grant them infinite power? They can do whatever they want... war and peace is entirely up to them."

The realizations came with a shock. "Thousands of lives are being lost when war occurs, and that happens with their approval..."

"They're disgusting...!" muttered Tristana. "And the Hashashin... do they even know about them?"

Shango swallowed. "I don't know, I don't think so... I've never ever heard of them."

"Shango, I don't believe that something as grand as a world-controlling organization would go unnoticed and unpunished from the Hashashin."

He scratched his chin, gritting his teeth and staring at a rock on the ground. "Now that you mentioned it, my father was murdered by the Hashashin, but from what uncle Pasqual told me, they knew he was involved into 'something else'. That means the Hashashin do know about the Endarkened Ones, at least the head of our brotherhood... and then why did they murder Alexander?"

A few moments passed as both were thinking of the question he had raised. The Pokemon passed through the relatively quiet road, looking suspiciously at the hoodied stranger who was staring intently at the ground as if he was searching for treasure. Tristana slid down his arm, forcing him to grab her onto his arms. She put her head under his hand, but Shango didn't start stroking her head as he was usually doing.

"And of course, I'm in trouble for not killing Jericho," he muttered to himself. His eyes were fixed on the Victini on his hands now, but he had focused his attention elsewhere. "Nightingale won't be pleased."

He started stroking Tristana slowly, without realizing. In truth, something had clicked in his mind. The Prophet had helped him find his true identity: the Phantom Dancer. Even though it was not yet clear to him what that term meant, he knew what the Prophet desired, from the knowledge he had transmitted onto Shango; the death of the Endarkened Ones, and that is why the idea of the Death Lotus was created. The initial translation Shango made from the Death Lotus was that he would kill the powerful war-makers of the land. Now he fully understood its meaning: those war-makers were the Endarkened Ones. And if the head of the Hashashin was corrupt, his place and usefulness amongst them was questionable.

Slowly, almost sadistically, a plan formed into Shango's head. What he would do would not be crossing any law of the Hashashin, and it would permit him to deal with this world controlling organization as a freelance assassin, a renegade, called the Phantom Dancer. That's what the Prophet wanted, and although he was not agreeing with the idea to help him, he found himself having no other choice; he felt obliged to continue his father's work. Realizing it or not, Shango had this inbuilt sense of right and wrong which guided him towards the path of relentless slaughter of the wicked.

"Shango! Stop!" Tristana shouted in strong laughter, bringing Shango back to reality. His claw was tickling her belly all this time. He stroked her head without paying any attention to her laughter and placed her on his shoulder.

"Tristy," he begun saying as he walked through the now empty road.

"Yes, Shango?" she asked him playfully, peeking inside his hood.

"You'll stay with me, whatever happens, yeah?" his voice was serious, but that didn't influence her mood.

"Of course, dear," she said and kissed him on his cheek, giggling as she pulled herself out of his hood.


***


Shango entered the house where the Hashashin resided; Crystal ran up to him in a hurry, grabbing his shoulders.

"Shango, where had you been?!"

"It doesn't matter where I'd been, only that I'm here now."

Crystal held him in her arms. "I was worried..." Then she looked at him. "Nightingale is furious with you."

"I don't care."

Just then, Nightingale's voice sounded from the dining room.

"Shango's here?"

Shango walked in the room. The Hashashin of his team were also there, sitting around the table. The Hydreigon stared down at Shango.

"After the hard work all of us put into the show, the Chancellor is still alive," he stated. Tristana gripped onto his shoulder tightly. Shango faced the dragon with a plain expression; in truth, the thought of meeting Claire at that night was the only thing he was thinking of.

"And let's just say you lost him," Nightingale continued, "why did you not return to us to report your failure?"

"As if you'd do anything about it," Shango replied slowly in his coldest tone. Suddenly, a shadow emerged from the ground; Shango had forgotten that the Count, as a Gengar, had the ability to pass through walls. Desmondius was right in front of them, staring at Nightingale.

"It's none of his fault, Oneiro. He lost us in the narrow streets."

Shango was not expecting Desmondius to defend him; he looked at the Gengar with the same plain expression that hid so many things behind it. That Count was so rich, his influence reached over the Contested Lands - Shango could easily see why he was a member of the Endarkened Ones. The Hashashin, want it or not, would have to face his death, even if he so kindly defended Shango.

The Hydreigon stared at the Count intently.

"What of Jericho?"

"I had no opportunity of killing him," lied Desmondius. Shango knew he was not planning on killing the Chancellor, at least not before the conference.

"And what do we do now?" Nightingale asked in a low voice.

"The Chancellor is leaving the city the coming week," informed them the Count. "For now, we lay low, until we find the perfect opportunity to strike. I will contact you if and once anything new comes up."

He sank to the ground afterwards, leaving the Hashashin in a silence filled with tension.

"You heard him," said Nightingale in that low voice. Shango was the first one to leave the house.


***


"So, according to everyone, the Count's house is that mansion up the hill," Shango muttered to himself. Being night, it was difficult to extract information about the location from stranger as he seemed too threatening.

"Shango, I don't think you should be doing this," Tristana said in a vain attempt to warn him. "If the Count finds out..."

"If the Count finds out, I'll kill him on the spot," Shango finished her sentence in a blatant and cruel manner that characterized him lately. Tristana simply shrugged and vanished.

He jumped above the walls that surrounded the hill, which appeared to be the mansion's garden. Trees offered him hideout while he moved towards the big house; only the rustling sound of the leaves being carried around by the wind was heard. Just as he was looking at the shining stars on the sky, Shango thought about getting Claire a gift, but it was now too late and the desire to see her was much too great.

A strange, purple light was coming off from a window on the top floor. Shango climbed up the mansion almost as fast as he was walking. He peeked inside the window to see a Chandelure standing on top of a table. This seemed to be some kind of living room, though there was no other furniture around. He stuck his claw inside the lock, cracking it open and climbing inside the house. The Chandelure instantly faced him; his figure alone was not far from threatening the ghost-type with death.

"Lady Claire!" the ghost shouted in a high-pitched voice.

The Ninetails appeared from the door almost immediately; Shango locked his eyes onto her. She seemed to be even more beautiful than the last time; in each of her tails was tied a blue coloured bow. Her fur was shining, even if the light of the Chandelure was dim and depressing, and her movements were just as gracious.

"Ah, Shango!" she said, tackling him gently; Shango was caught off guard and sat on the ground, Claire placing her head on his chest. He simply run his hand through her fur, something which he wanted to do ever since he saw her. Her gorgeous figure overwhelmed him massively, ensnaring his heart.

"Hello, Claire."

She shot a glance at the Chandelure, who vanished from the room, leaving the two in darkness. One of Claire's tails reached for a candle on the table, which ignited in flames at once, lighting up the whole room. It was no ordinary candle, Shango would be able to say if his attention wasn't completly absorbed by her red, hypnotizing eyes.

"Are we alone?" he asked in a low voice, not because he was afraid of somebody hearing him, but because the moment was too fragile to be shattered.

"Indeed, we are," she said and let go of him to stand on her feet. Their eyes were now about the same height.

"I hear our friend Jericho is still alive," she said strictly but giggled right after in a cute manner. Her words struck Shango like lightning - she knew about the plans of the Hashashins? But he thought of it more carefully. Why wouldn't she know about their plans, the Count would have told her surely.

"Oh yeah... I had some complications."

"No matter, dear Shango..." she whispered and turned her back to him, her tails swishing right on his face. She paced forward.

"Do you know how hard it is," Claire started saying as she walked around the room, "for a diva like me, to be married to a miserable ghost type?"

Here we go, Shango thought. "No, but I can see," he replied with a half-smile. "He doesn't seem like the right kind of person for you..."

The laugh of the Ninetails captivated Shango's heart. She approached him slowly, pushing the tip of his hood back. Shango was burning from desire.

"How right you are. I want somebody strong who can protect me from this cruel world," her voice was slightly dramatic but seductive at the same time. Shango's emerald eyes were reflecting hers, she was that close. He was feeling his heartbeats getting faster, the heat radiating from her melting the resistance of his sanity.

"Let me guess, that somebody, is me," he managed to say, his voice having lost the impact it once had. A feeling similar to sleepyness overwhelmed him. She laughed melodically, taking her eyes away from his.

"Yes, you do seem capable!" she said, having a subtle smile and looking at his claws. She giggled as she touched them, seemingly to examine them, something which Shango found extremely cute. "Those claws of yours... they look dangerous."

Claire raised her head to look at him, biting her lips slightly in a charming expression. Shango was overcome by her beauty once again; he didn't know if he could stand staring at her for so long, but the thought of losing her from sight wasn't welcome in his mind. Her compliment had at least doubled his ego. Now he was ready to face an army to get her... but how good was that?

"They are dangerous to anyone who'll try to harm you."

Claire giggled again, still looking at his sharp claws. "How charming," she whispered, gifting Shango a victory that had nothing to do with the satisfaction he was getting by killing his target. The thought that he had charmed her made him feel superior than the Count, Hector, or anyone who approached her for that matter. It was strange, how she had admitted it, he thought, but he didn't care at all at this moment. He would have to tease her a bit.

"Charming, like Hector," he said in a subtle, playful smile, as he placed his claw on her chin to make her look at him.

"Hector... you look alike, but he is rather impolite, indeed too much for me," she spoke in a sincere tone Shango was hearing for the first time.

"How do you know? I thought he was being nice to you."

She seemed mildly serious now. "Insight is one of my aspects, dear Shango."

Shango chuckled, his smile growing. "I see you have a lot of aspects," he said in a low, flirtatious voice that would sound sarcastic if it was slightly different. However, Shango knew the meaning passed through, although she did not show any signs. He noticed the way her tails were waving had changed.

"How did you get involved in show business?" Shango suddenly asked her with curiosity.

"Everyone has a hobby, no?"

Claire glanced at his claws. "You know... I've always wondered what you Hashashin do in your free time," she caressed his chest gently back and forth. Best way of distracting me, Shango quickly thought, enjoying her paw's movement on him.

"We never really have free time..." Shango said quietly, looking at her eyes.

"Speaking of the Hashashin... Hector tells me you have never been a close friend to the Imperatores," Claire said and observed his expression change. "But from what my sources tell me, yours and his family had established a close friendship."

"I would not know... I've never heard of that name before," muttered Shango, taking his eyes away from her for the first time. He was not sure if letting her know about his past was a good idea, despite the fact that he was enticed by her behaviour.

"The Imperatores are one of the most important families of Hesperia," explained Claire, still stroking his chest, "they were the ones who built the infamous 'Well of Shadows'."

"Well of Shadows?"

Another beautiful smile was formed on Claire's face, as she was obviously enjoying Shango's curiosity. Shango himself was feeling warm and fuzzy.

"The Well of Shadows is a botomless hole on the ground, here in Hesperia, that is said to hide unspeakable powers. But that is but a myth to lure the fools into oblivion..."

Her dark tone made Shango want to explore that well right away; it was as if she was making it a challenge.

"I see... are you ever going to take me to this well?" he asked her, gently scratching her neck and looking straight into her eyes.

"Why would you want to go there?" Claire asked abruptly, with her suspicion rising. Shango shrugged with a unique smile that was captivating in its own way.

"I've always wanted to go strolling with a gorgeous diva like yourself."

The said diva laughed with a feminine grace that was rooting Shango's heart. She raised her eyebrows.

"That's dangerous. They might see us." She was smiling beautifully, despite her words.

"So?" Shango asked, with his sharp teeth revealed. She laughed again; a dim, purple light filled the room again as the Chandelure appeared on the table.

"Lady Claire, the Count has arrived," the ghost announced. Shango was already on the tip of the window. Claire was looking at him, still laying down where he had left her.

"I'll be seeing you," Shango said and she responded only with a grander smile. He put on his hood and let himself fall on the ground; the distance was thirty feet, but he was barely hurt. As he got up, he perked up his ears, overhearing the two talking.

"Claire, are you still awake?" the voice of the Gengar sounded strange.

"Of course, I was waiting for you."

"... you'd never done that before."

Shango chuckled. He grabbed each of his wrists, adjusting his vambraces that had slightly fallen off from the tension he had just gone through.

"There's always a first time."

On top of everything else, Claire seemed to be clever as well. Shango took a mental note to himself to show his appreciation for just that, and not just her beauty. Just as he was thinking that, Tristana popped on his shoulder.

"Hey, where'd you been?" Shango asked without looking at the fairy. He started walking towards the forest of the mansion's garden.

"I couldn't stand her," she said in a disgusted expression, "so I flew off. Besides, I thought things would get ugly."

"Hmm, not yet, Tristy," he replied, smiling as he let the shadows of the trees veil him.