The Runaways [New Year's Extravaganza]

This is my New Year's Extravaganza gift for Ambyssin! He asked for something about Team Radiance, and I swear that's what I started writing, but, uh, two side characters sort of hijacked the plot and took it over, so I ended up rewriting it to be about them instead. But it's still a fic set in the world of Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Guiding Light, and contains major unmarked spoilers for everything up to the end of chapter 48. You've been warned. I should also warn for some like, bloodless fantasy violence, perilous situations and minor alcohol references; basically, if you've read Guiding Light (and this story won't make any sense unless you have, because it's set at the same time as, and interwoven with, Episode 9 of Guiding Light), you know what you're getting into already.

Finally, the specific prompt I was responding to with this fic was:
with just a soupçon of:
So, with all the preliminaries out of the way, let's get on with things!

---

“I don't actually need help with that, thanks.”

“If you're sure!”

“I'm quite sure, yes.”

“Okay! Watch your step here!”

“I'm levitating.”

“Oh. Watch your psychic projection, then!”

“… cheers.”

Archen hopped from rock to rock, picking her way carefully down the slope in a series of fitful glides. She thought she could probably manage the whole way in one go, but there was always a chance that she'd crash, and she didn't want to risk it. This was her first job, after all, and she wanted to impress her client. A good review on the Connection Orb would hopefully lead to more jobs, and those would lead to more reviews, and those would lead to more jobs, and then after a few more cycles, the Archen Private Investigation Agency would be a household name.

The thought was so warm and pleasant to look at. She looked, and kept looking, and completely failed to see the loose bit of scree that slid away under her talon.

“I'm fine!” she yelled immediately, slithering helplessly down the slope. “No need to worry! Everything's under control!”

“Sure,” said the client, watching her trying and failing to grab onto the rocks. “If you say so, mate.”

She slid to a halt just a few feet from the riverbank and jumped up again, hurriedly smoothing her ruffled feathers.

“Just taking a shortcut!” she called. “As you can see, we're now at Glyphic Falls!”

“I'd noticed.”

Unown ? floated elegantly down the slope, watching her with their one hooded eye. Apparently it was unusual to see one of their kind alone, but given that Archen herself was the only member of her species that anyone she'd ever met had encountered, she wasn't really sure she believed in unusual as a category. (This was filed away in her head as a cool line to deliver to clients in her office, preferably while leaning on the arm of her chair with the blinds half closed and a tumbler of whisky on the desk: unusual case, huh? I don't believe in unusual. She could see it all so vividly in her head; the only difficulty was that she didn't actually have an office yet.)

“So,” said Unown, cutting into her thoughts. “Are we going in or just admiring the view? I need you to take me down to the Nocturnus Catacombs, remember.”

“Yes, of course!” Archen tore her thoughts away from the glorious future and back to the present: canyon, rocks, roaring of the river as it surged out over the cliff edge. “There's an entrance to the Glyphic Falls caverns just through here, I think!”

She nodded at a split in the canyon wall, half buried in fallen scree.

“Follow me,” she said, puffing out her chest. “I will get you home, Unown!”

“Great. Super.” Unown blinked slowly and revolved to face the cave, their slender body waving slightly as they moved. “After you.”

“Yes, of course,” cried Archen. “I will be our vanguard!”

She flung herself at the cave mouth, kicking up a spray of dirt and pebbles as she went. Unown squeezed their eye shut, rising gently up out of the way, and shook themself out with a sigh.

“Last time I hire a non-Guild contractor,” they muttered, and floated on after Archen into the cave.


After the rushing of the wind and water out on the clifftop paths, the caverns seemed supernaturally quiet; the sound of the river was inescapable, but it was muted here, a distant bass note beneath the drip and plop of the rivulets trickling down the water-smoothed walls.

All quiet. Except―

Drrrrrrrrrm-DUM.

Archen stopped.

“Did – did you feel that?” she asked.

“No. I'm floating. But I heard it.” Unown drifted up a little, eye rolling towards the ceiling. “Sounded like an earthquake.”

“That's what I thought.” Archen fidgeted for a moment, rubbing her claws together. “Is that, um, normal for this place?”

“No. There are steam geysers, but that's it.” Unown floated down again to look at her. “Do you have any opinions? As, you know, a … personal investor, or whatever it is you―”

“Private investigator,” said Archen, scratching thoughtfully at her beak. “Yes. Yes, I can make some deductions. So, um, hm … unusual seismic activity … extensive cave network … powerful currents … then if you factor in seasonal variations … carry the two … okay, I think I've got it.” She cleared her throat. “Someone else is near here, and they're having like, a really big fight.”

Unown blinked. Perhaps Archen should have expected it of someone whose face consisted solely of a single eye, but it was a remarkably expressive blink.

“Right,” they said. “Super. Really helpful, thanks.”

“Don't worry!” Archen reached over to give them a comforting pat on the back, then realised she actually didn't know where their back was and tried to convert the movement into a debonair sort of flourish instead. “As my client, you're under my protection until such time as our business is concluded.”

“Mm,” they replied, eye unreadable. “Let's hope that doesn't become necessary, huh.”

Something about the way they said it made Archen pause. They weren't mocking her, were they? No. No, probably they were just scared. That definitely made more sense. One unown all on their own was very vulnerable, after all.

“That would be ideal,” she agreed. “Did you say it was this way down to the catacombs?”

“Yes. The left, by that rock there with the crystals.”

“All right! Stay close. There are clearly dangerous Pokémon about!”

“Clearly,” said Unown, following her down the left-hand fork.

They walked for a few minutes in silence, both listening for the telltale sounds of battle. As far as Archen could tell, there weren't any, which she thought – no, deduced – was probably more worrying than if they were. It meant that one of the fighters had beaten the other, and now had nothing to distract them from whatever else they might find in the caves. Like an Archen and a single Unown, for instance.

The thought was black and cold and seeped into her heart with every pulse. Positive, she told herself. Be positive. If you think you're going to lose, you've already lost.

“Can you sense anyone nearby?” she asked, keeping her voice casual.

“No,” replied Unown. “But then, there's only one of me. Our powers are weak unless we're swarming.”

She dipped her heavy head in understanding.

“So this is a trip home for you?” she asked. Unown hadn't given her many answers when they hired her; they'd just seen one of her posters and had come around asking if she was willing to guard them on a trip to the Nocturnus Catacombs and back. And while the mission seemed a little light on the investigation front, Archen couldn't deny that she needed the business.

“I'm on my way to the place I came from,” they replied. “Which isn't quite the same thing.”

“Oh. Sorry. I know what you mean.”

That hooded eye flicked around and lingered for a moment on her face.

“Is that so,” they said.

Archen considered. Ironically enough, they hadn't put an inflection on that one, so she felt she could probably get away with pretending she didn't realise it was a question.

“Are all these caves carved out by the water, do you think?” she asked.

“Huh? Oh. Yes, of course.” Unown waved the tip of their body (their tail? their tentacle? it seemed impolite to ask) at the countless little trickles of water beneath Archen's feet, winking in the dim light of the crystals growing from the walls. “It just takes time, is all. Persistence.”

“Right!” said Archen, as enthusiastically as she could, but couldn't think of anything to add. Persistence wasn't really her thing – wasn't really an Archen thing at all, in fact. Her people, back when they had still been around, had always been a tribe of defeatists; if something looked hard, they generally stopped trying.

“You hang around enough, you start to see it in action,” said Unown, as the silence deepened, growing into something thick and uncomfortable. “Which we do, by the by. We're not very good at dying.”

“'We' being Unown?”

“Yes.”

Ahead, the cave grew narrower and more convoluted, twisting and doubling back on itself as it traced the path of least resistance; it terminated in a drop into inky blackness, the streams splashing off the edge like a miniature version of the falls outside. Archen tossed down a luminous orb, and was relieved to see it was only fifteen feet or so. Even with the water, that was an easy climb for her; she wouldn't be getting trapped down in the caves today.

Down the drop, then, Archen gliding and Unown floating serenely – and then, just a few twists and turns later, out into the startling light of day.

“Wow, that's bright.” Archen shielded her eyes with a wing, squinting out over the sunlit hills. She was standing on a narrow lip of stone partway down the cliffs; to her right, the river fell in great white sheets, speckling her feathers with moisture en route to the foaming basin below.

A long way below, actually. Archen looked once, and decided to keep her eyes firmly on the path.

“It's along here,” Unown said, drifting casually out over the edge of the path as if it were nothing. “Down this way, then in again at that cave there, behind the next waterfall.” They narrowed their eye. “It gets a bit more dangerous down there. Wild Gliscor make nests around halfway down the cliff, and they can get a little territorial.”

“Not a problem!” cried Archen. “As my client―”

“―I'm under your protection, yes, I'm aware.” Unown sighed. “Okay. Right behind you.”

“Of course!”

She pressed on, digging her claws into the slick rock and hoping none of it was about to give way.

“It's beautiful up here, huh!” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the howling falls.

“I suppose,” said Unown, without enthusiasm.

“I think I can see all the way to the Circadian Coast!”

“… that's in the opposite direction. You're looking at the Midnight Sea, mate.”

Archen wasn't sure how to answer that, but fortunately she didn't have to: just then, something went crack and a flash of particoloured light lanced out overhead.

“What was that?” asked Unown.

“I don't know.” Top of the cliff, maybe? Somewhere higher up, among the crags? “Are you detecting anything?”

“Not … wait. No. Maybe.” Their tendril wavered in agitation. “I think I'm getting something,” they said. “Far off. It must be a strong psychic presence if I can feel it from here.”

“Strong like a Metagross, maybe?”

“Yes, I suppose. Like a … wait.” Unown's eye widened. “Please tell me that was just an example.”

“Sorry.” Archen pointed up, to a ridge near the top of the cliffs – and the gleam of sunlight on blue steel. “They're not alone, either. Something else …”

A white blur rose up and accelerated away from the ridge with a whine and the sharp snap of a sonic boom.

“What―?”

“It's psychic,” said Unown, retreating closer to the wall. “Whatever that is, it's very powerfully―”

“Um, Unown?” said Archen, eyes fixed on the flier. Tracing a broad circle above the river basin. Banking around towards the cliff. Archen herself wasn't much good on her wings, but she knew enough about flight to tell what that sort of trajectory meant. “I think you should go hide behind that waterfall there.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don't worry!” she chirped. The flier was sweeping back towards them now. Whatever it was, whatever its intentions, it couldn't fail to spot a brightly-coloured dinosaur against the muddy grey of the cliffs. “I'm excellent at conflict resolution!”

“Conflict what?”

“Just hide!”

They didn't stay to argue. A moment later, Unown was safely concealed behind the water – and not before time, in Archen's view; as she watched, the white shape twisted in midair and began to accelerate towards her.

(you're going to die you're going to die)

She took a breath. Felt the stone tremble almost imperceptibly beneath her talons, ready to answer her call. And―

“Hi.” Archen blinked: one moment the flier had been over there, and now it – she – was right in front of her, hanging completely stationary in midair. “Uh, sorry to interrupt. I'm looking for an Absol, a Houndoom and a … well, I'm not sure what he is, exactly. Some sort of pointy purple imp.”

Archen stared.

“Have you seen them?” persisted the stranger. “I'm sure they're somewhere nearby.”

Archen kept staring. Pale body. Stubby arms. Reddish wings.

There was a Pokémon answering to that description. But how on earth could she be here?

“Are you Latias?” asked Archen, just in case.

“Yes, that's me.” Latias smiled nervously. “Sorry to bother you, Archen, but―”

“Wait, what?” Archen cocked her head on one side. “You know what I am?”

“Of … course?” Latias frowned. “I'm with the Expedition Society, over on the Water Continent. Our aerial specialist is an Archen. The Archen, I should say. I've never actually seen another one until now.”

Another Archen. Another survivor, it had to be. But far away, Archen reminded herself – on another continent. They wouldn't come looking for her. She was free.

“Okay,” she said. “Um, sorry. Who were you looking for again?”

“An Absol, a Houndoom, and a third Pokémon. Purple, pointy head.” Latias pointed up at the ridge she'd taken off from. “I'm working with Metagross of the Horizon Exploration Guild. It's very important that we find these Pokémon as soon as possible.”

“Are they outlaws?”

“They've attacked guild members,” said Latias. “Look, if you see them, stay away. The absol in particular is especially powerful.”

“Don't worry!” Archen saluted. She wasn't sure if this was an appropriate reaction – shouldn't a private eye be dismissive of the establishment force? And what was more establishment than the Society and the Guild? – but, well, it was Latias. Some measure of respect seemed wise. “I have the situation well in hand!”

“Please don't do anything rash. They've already overpowered one exploration team. If the Guildmaster hadn't come along … well, just steer clear of them, okay?” Archen gave her a firm nod. “Great,” said Latias, motioning over her shoulder. “Anyway, sorry – I need to keep looking. Stay safe, Archen!”

“Of course!” called Archen, her voice lost in the sonic boom of Latias' acceleration. “Good luck with your search!”

Latias waved and zoomed up towards the crags with a whoosh of displaced air. A moment later, Unown floated gingerly out from behind the waterfall, staring up at her in agitation.

“She said the Guild was here?” they asked.

Honestly, Archen felt that this was the least interesting thing about the conversation she'd just had, but, well, Unown was the client.

“Yeah,” she replied. “Looking for some outlaws, it seems.”

Unown shuddered, though Archen got the impression it was more anger than fear.

“Damn it,” they muttered. “All right, we need to hurry up. That disturbance I sensed …”

Without another word, they flew swiftly down the path towards the next cave mouth, half-hidden in the spray.

“Hey!” cried Archen, scampering after them. “Hold on, there are outlaws about! Hey, Unown …!”


Unown could move surprisingly fast, it turned out; Archen wasn't slow, but she had to watch her step on the wet stone and climb around the rockfalls in the cave, and by the time she managed to catch up, they were already deep enough underground that the sunlight had given way to the dim glow of the crystals once more.

“Hey!” she cried, jumping in front of them, wings spread wide. “What are you doing? You said yourself, it's dangerous here. I can't protect you if you rush off on your own like that.”

Unown stared at her – no, not at her, through her, their eye focused on something other than the Pokémon before them.

“The disturbance,” they murmured. “We have to get back―”

“Unown!” Archen chipped her claws against one another with a stony click that echoed through the cave like the grinding call of an Onix; Unown blinked and pulled back sharply, suddenly aware that they were inches from her face. “That's better,” said Archen. “What was that all about?”

“I, uh … hm.” Unown shook themself out, avoiding her eye. “Sorry. This place. It gets to you. To us, I mean. Nothing to worry about. I mean, we should be concerned about the Gliscor, and these outlaws, but not about this place. Or me. I'm fine. Just fine.”

Archen waited for them to finish speaking, and then waited some more, and then, at last, said:

“Are you, um, are you sure about that?”

Unown hovered there, motionless. She stood before them, rubbing her claws together.

This really wasn't how she'd expected this to go. Sure, the job had seemed a little strange – a single Unown, vague about their reasons, an unusually large reward – but it hadn't seemed difficult, and it wasn't as if she had much experience to judge it by.

And yet … given that there were complications, wasn't the time ripe for a little investigation?

“Look,” she said. “You're my client, right? That's a sacred bond. I'm here to help you with your mission, whatever that is. Maybe I can do that better if I know what it is that's going on here?”

Unown sighed, the curl of their body slackening as the tension left them.

“My swarm,” they said. “I know I live alone, but I'm still connected to it. And the idiots are going to do something stupid, I can feel it.” Their tendril flexed in some abstruse gesture. “It's in the ley lines. Things are bad here. Some kind of corruption – and something else, too. Something I've been keeping an eye on for a while now. And, well.” They sighed. “Unown live in mobs. Mobs aren't great at making nuanced decisions.”

“Slow down a moment,” said Archen, holding out her claws. “What sort of corruption? And what's this something?”

“Right. Sorry.” Unown flicked the tip of their tendril at the cave. “Come on. We can talk while we go. There isn't time to stand around like this.”

Archen nodded and started moving again, scanning the cave ahead for signs of recent passage. (No Gliscor yet, and no outlaws either, but that didn't mean they weren't there somewhere.)

“You know that unown have power when we swarm?” asked Unown. She nodded. “Right, well – we can make things. Change the world. There was an alchemist who abused that, a long time ago. He trapped parts of the swarm and stole them away to his lab. Reforged them into monsters to do his bidding.”

Alchemy. Archen flinched, but fortunately Unown didn't seem to notice.

“It's a long story,” they continued, “so I'll spare you the details, but one of them got imprisoned down in the catacombs, escaped, and ended up joining the Guild.”

“The Guild? Really?”

“Yes. Have you seen him? They call him Null.”

“Nope, sorry.”

“Never mind.” They sighed, floating up and around a stalagmite. “I thought he was safely out of the way there, but I suppose the Guild dragged him back here on their damned expedition. And if he's here … the alchemist killed hundreds of us to create Null. Understandably, the swarm isn't best pleased about that.”

“They'll fight?” asked Archen.

“They'll try,” replied Unown grimly. “And if I can sense him, so can they. I need to intervene before the idiots kill anyone. Or get themselves killed, for that matter. Null is … pretty formidable.”

Archen felt her pulse quicken. Forbidden alchemy. Buried secrets. How lucky was she? Her first mission and it had already turned into a mystery, just like she'd been searching for. And sure, it did sound a little intimidating – especially the alchemy – but if the gods were kind enough to offer, she couldn't very well not accept.

“You can talk them down?” she asked. “If I get you there?”

“I hope so.” Unown hesitated for a minute. “You've, uh, probably noticed I'm not a normal Unown.”

“You do live alone …”

“Yes. And I'm an Unown ?, too.”

Archen stopped, right there in the middle of the cave.

“What did you just say?”

“Unown ?”

“How … how are you pronouncing that?”

Unown gave her a puzzled look.

“What? I just say it, is all. Unown A, Unown B, Unown C, Unown ?, simple.”

“Unown―” Archen broke off abruptly, shaking her head. “I don't even know what that sound is, let alone how to make it.”

“Look, it doesn't matter, all right?” Unown flicked their tendril in agitation. “The point is, I'm punctuation. I don't carry meaning the way the others do. I can't create like they can. I just change. I inflect.”

Archen smoothed one wing with the claws of the other, rearranging her feathers. A nervous tic. She'd never liked not understanding, and this she very much did not understand.

“Of course,” she said, hoping she sounded like she got it. “And how does that help us?”

“I'm hoping it gives me some authority,” Unown replied. “There aren't many Unown ?, you know. We can't mix with the swarm without changing it – they spell out facts; we turn all those facts to questions – so we tend to get pushed out. Have to learn to think for ourselves.” They sighed again. “Sometimes that means that the swarm comes to us for advice. Sometimes it just means they don't trust us.”

Their voice was as black and bitter as raw olives, in a way that touched some corresponding impulse deep inside Archen's chest.

“I see,” she said, and meant it.

Unown gave her a long, unreadable look.

“I'm, uh … sorry I didn't mention any of this before,” they said. “I thought you would take me down there and leave me to it. Seemed safer not to explain.”

“Why safer?”

“You weren't the first explorer―”

“Private investigator.”

“―that I approached.” The upper tip of Unown's body wavered around in midair. “I asked Clefairy and Spritzee―”

Archen bristled. She might be new to this, but she still had her pride, darn it.

“Those two! But they're just mercenaries. Barely even explorers, let alone investigators.”

“Yes, well, they didn't want the job. I made the mistake of explaining to them that there were disturbances in the ley lines, some sort of corrupting presence, and an alchemical chimera created as a living weapon.”

A living …? Better not to think about that, Archen decided. Stay positive. Keep on faking it until it's real.

“Hmph.” She sniffed and turned her beak up. “Cowards. An investigator takes up the cause of good and pursues it to the solution of the mystery!”

“Uh … if you say so, mate.” Unown glanced at her, shadows falling across their eye as they passed through the lee of a stalagmite. “You're taking this much better than I anticipated. Thought you might at least be angry that I lied.”

“Oh no, it's fine! Clients always have secrets.”

“Really. How many clients have you worked with, exactly?”

“Hm, well,” said Archen, as they rounded the corner. “It's funny you should ask, actually, because …”

She trailed off.

The cave widened out ahead into a vast chasm, water tumbling from somewhere up in the shadowed roof to vanish into the dark below. It was beautiful, in its way; the vapour rising from the falls caught the light from the crystals and scattered it across the room a ball of fragmentary mirrors.

Almost enough to distract from the massive creature sprawled on the rim of the pit.

Huge, humped, armoured in strange ringed poles of steel like metallic bamboo; it was some kind of bird, that much Archen was sure of – there were the wings, spread like fallen clubs across the damp stone – but none that she had ever encountered before. A variant of Skarmory? But it had a beak like a Toucannon, a bloated spear of metal almost as big as its body, and glossy black crystals pushing through the seams of its armour like angular mushrooms.

“Unown?” she whispered, without taking her eyes off it. “Is that Null?”

“No,” they whispered back. “I don't know what that is. But judging by the state of its life force, I think we might have just found the source of the corruptio― did it just move?”

Pause. Archen's heartbeat seemed very loud right now.

“No, I don't think so,” she said, at last. “It looks pretty beat-up. So – a knocked-out bird monster … a waterfall … the earthquake earlier … don't forget the Guild is here … and there's an R in the month, so … all right, I think I have it.” She pointed at the bird. “Do you see all the beads of water? And the dents? All evenly distributed. It's been hit from all sides.”

“It's been in a fight.” Unown tore their eye away from it, just for a second, to glance across at her. “That tremor earlier …”

“Exactly.” Archen clicked her beak in satisfaction. “It's simple deduction, really. After that fight, it fell in the river and got washed down here. The dents are probably from bouncing around during the fall.”

“Suppose we should thank the Guild,” murmured Unown. “I wouldn't want to have to fight this― are you sure it's unconscious? I swear it moved.”

“I'm sure!” chirped Archen. “Look, I'll prove it.”

Even as she said it, a substantial part of her was politely asking the rest what on earth it thought it was doing. But, well, she'd said it, and she had to be positive, right, so positive, always positive, so Archen crept up and waved a claw in front of the bird's beak.

No reaction. Thank the gods, shrieked the voice in her head, but her body just turned to Unown and spread her wings triumphantly.

“See?” she said, with a flourish. “Nothing to worry about. Now, which way from― why are you looking at me like that?”

“N-not you, mate,” stammered Unown. “Um – you might want to – to …”

Metallic clank. Scrape of steel on stone.

Archen turned around to look, and saw bloodshot eyes looking back.

“Oh, okay,” murmured Archen, taking a step back. “Um, don't worry, I'm … excellent at – at conflict resolution …”

“Kreeeeh,” wheezed the bird, dragging its head up off the stones. “SssskkKRAAAW!”

It lurched up in one violent movement, wings snapping out above its head, and Archen took a few more steps back.

(you're going to die you're going to DIE)

“Positive,” she squawked, and dived for cover.


Archen hit the ground and flung herself up again just in time to see the bird's beak stab through the space where she'd been standing a moment before – and drive into the floor hard enough to send chips of stone skittering in every direction.

Positive. Positive. Positive.

“Hi!” yelled Archen, tugging her satchel up and over her head. “I'm Archen! Here, Unown, catch. Who are you?”

“What are you doing?” screeched Unown, flying up out of the way as her satchel sailed past. “I don't think it wants to talk!”

“This is conflict resolution!” cried Archen, leaping out of the way as the bird aimed a second peck at her and tore chunks from the wall instead. “Did you get my bag?”

“I don't have any hands!”

“Oh. Sorry, I forgot!”

“Skraaaaw!”

The bird swiped its heavy wing at her, the edge glittering dangerously; Archen jumped up and grabbed onto the wall, letting it smash into the rock beneath her, then coiled (and positive) and breathed (and positive) and sprang―

―to drive her talons into the bird's forehead, right between those bloodshot eyes. As it staggered, screeching, she kicked away again – thrust once more off the wall – and slammed into its chest, putting new dents in the battered metal.

“Sorry!” she shouted, dropping to the floor and ducking beneath a retaliatory stab of the massive beak. “I did try to resolve this peacefu― aahk!”

She squawked and jumped away as the bird drew back its head again – but this time it didn't peck; this time it simply opened its mouth and inhaled. Hard.

Something about that seemed familiar. Hadn't she seen it before? Like when a Toucannon was gathering―

“Ammunition,” breathed Archen, and watched wide-eyed as the pieces of stone smashed loose by the bird's attacks vanished into its beak with a clatter. It snapped its mouth shut, gave its head a little shake, and glared.

“Skrrraaaaaww!”

“Nope!” yelped Archen, diving between the bird's legs and popping up again behind it as it fired a barrage of rocks into the floor. “What are you, some sort of mutant Toucannon?”

She dug her talons into the ground and focused; the stone rippled, groaned, and surged up like molten wax to form a small boulder that hung impossibly in midair, awaiting her command.

“You took my Acrobatics like a champ,” she muttered, trying to drown out the shrieking in her head. “But you're not the only one who can toss rocks around, pal!”

The mutant Toucannon turned, beak opening for another shot – and caught her Rock Throw in the side of the head, the boulder shattering on its armour with an impact that brought it crashing to the floor, screeching and writhing.

“Okay, progress!” Archen cried, trying to stick to the positives and not how horrendously outmatched she was. “A few more of them, and―”

It was up again, just like that: a flick of a wing, a clash of steel, and the Toucannon flung itself into the air, sucking up the fragments of her broken boulder as it went. For a moment, Archen could only stare – how was it flying? The darn thing looked heavy enough to go toe-to-toe with a Rhydon – and then she realised that it was circling over the void, banking around to take a shot, and suddenly there were quite a few things in the world more important than the fact that the metal bird could fly.

No time to charge a Rock Throw: Archen leaped aside, spewing blue-purple dragonfire to cover her retreat; the Toucannon swooped straight through her attack, heedless of the flame that stuck to its armour, and fired off another salvo―

A sharp pain in her tail. Archen stumbled and fell, bashing her wing hard against the stone, and just about managed to drag herself out of the way of the follow-up. The Toucannon swooped past, its wing almost clipping her back, and soared up and out over the falls once more, screaming its fury.

(YOU'RE GOING TO DIE YOU'RE GOING TO DIE)

It came, as it always did. The certainty of defeat, oozing from the poison swamp deep inside her guts, choking her heart and drowning her lungs in thick, toxic slime. Why bother? She couldn't beat this thing. She was an Archen, despite the Rock-typing in her bones, despite the millions of years between her and the colony. And what did everyone always say about Archen, back in the day?

“Strike hard, give up easy,” she murmured, lifting her head listlessly to watch the Toucannon wheeling around for another strafing run, its beak starting to glow with the heat of a Beak Blast. “It's just what we do.”

“Are you all right?” cried Unown from somewhere. “Archen?”

She blinked. The world came back into focus: cave, waterfall, huge steel bird trailing heat haze from its beak.

She had a client. And a mystery to solve, and an office to earn, and a reputation to make – but right now, and most importantly of all, she had a client.

“It's all right!” she yelled, jumping to her feet with an energy she couldn't really feel. “Everything's under control!”

Unown shouted something back, but Archen didn't hear it; the Toucannon was maybe twenty feet away now, its beak red-hot and steaming where the spray from the falls touched the metal; and it was fifteen feet away, its eyes gleaming with hate through the steam; and it was ten feet away, and eight, and―

Archen stared into those bloodshot eyes and spread her wings.

“Now!” she cried, and all around her the rock answered.

The fossils came from everywhere, the walls and the floor and even the ceiling, wherever it really was up there in the dark; huge spiral shells, jagged teeth, the hooked claws of Kabutops and even the massive skull of a Tyrantrum – all tore loose from the stone and converged on the hot steel of the Toucannon's beak with a crash and squeal of tortured metal. A half second later, the huge creature hit the ground, skidded along through a pile of broken fossils, and came to rest at Archen's feet.

It looked up at her. She looked down at it.

The beak was battered, bent – but still glowing.

“Um, hang on,” she said, hopping back. “Are you – that's still a Beak Blast, isn't―”

She turned, and got three paces before the explosion lifted her off her feet and tossed her halfway across the cave. Her wings snapped out of their own accord, instinct taking over as higher thought decided to quit and start screaming, and she coasted down to crash inelegantly into her satchel in the far corner.

“Oof,” she grunted, picking herself up. “Don't worry, it's … it's fine, all under …”

The sound of metal scraping on stone came to her ears, and her heart sank with a finality that she couldn't bluster past. She looked around – and there it was. The Toucannon, climbing stiffly back to its feet. Covered in new dents, and with its beak a little more crooked than before, but glaring with all the same blank, unfocused spite.

What else could she do? That had been her last resort. If that wasn't enough, what on earth would it take to bring this monster down? No, it was impossible. She shouldn't even be tryin―

“Skrreeh,” wheezed the Toucannon, stumbling away towards the cliff edge. It moved painfully, almost drunkenly, slipping on the fragments of rock and catching its balance with outspread wings. “Kreeeh …”

It jumped. For a moment, it disappeared below the cliff – and then, with a sound like two Bisharp clashing blades, it flapped laboriously back up to dwindle into the darkness above the waterfall.

Archen stayed standing until the last echo of its metallic wingbeats had faded.

“So yeah,” she mumbled, sinking heavily to the floor. “That's conflict resolution. It's pretty simple, really.”


“Well,” said Unown, “that was quite possibly the most literal interpretation of striking while the iron's hot that I've ever seen.”

Archen chuckled, although more because it felt like the right response than because she meant it.

“Yeah,” she said, taking an oran berry from her bag and crushing it to apply to her tail. “I, um … I did say you were under my protection. Sacred bond and all.”

“Yes.” They hesitated, their tendril rippling slightly. “It was still quite a performance. I'm not even sure that Clefairy and Kirlia would have been able to handle that thing.”

Archen opened her beak to show her fangs, an old sign of appreciation among her people.

“Thanks,” she said. “I guess it was a good thing they turned you down, huh?”

“I suppose. And that Quilava and Barbaracle were already booked. And that, uh, the Horizon Guild had just mounted an expedition and weren't taking commissions.”

“I was your fourth choice?”

Unown couldn't hold her gaze; they turned a little to look out over the pit.

“I thought I should be honest,” they mumbled. “I feel a little responsible. I didn't think you'd have to deal with anything more than a couple of Gliscor, let alone whatever that thing was.”

Archen sighed.

“Well, I appreciate your honesty, I suppose,” she said, too tired this time to pretend it wasn't an insult. “Anyway, it's fine. That Toucannon thing is someone else's problem now. Maybe it'll run into the Guildmaster up there. Or those outlaws. Latias said they took down a whole exploration team.”

“Yes. Of course.”

Silence. Archen flexed her tail experimentally. It didn't hurt as much, but she'd probably need to get it seen to properly when she got back to town. Those rocks had packed a heck of a punch.

“Are you all right to keep moving?” she asked, standing up and shouldering her satchel once again. “You said we needed to hurry.”

“Oh. Right. I mean, I just thought I should let you catch your breath.”

She showed her fangs again.

“That's kind of you,” she said. “But if you think the Unown are in danger …”

“Null. Yes.” Unown waved the tip of their tendril at the path ahead, winding around the wall of the cave above the abyss. “This waterfall goes straight down to the catacombs. I normally fly, but I think this path goes most of the way down, too. You might have to glide the last part.”

“Right.”

They started moving again, past the mound of smashed fossils and shattered stones.

“Was that Ancient Power, by the way?” asked Unown diffidently.

“Mm. Yeah.”

“That's quite a rare move.”

“Yep.”

“Only really used by Legendaries. Or … old pokémon.”

Archen sighed. Time for The Conversation, it seemed.

“Well, I am old,” she said. “About a hundred and fifty million years. Give or take.”

Unown's eye widened dramatically.

“What? But you seem―”

“Some people like to be cheerful,” she said, trying and failing to keep the edge from her voice. “No, sorry, I mean – look, it's complicated.”

“Of course,” said Unown, hurriedly switching their attention back to the path. “Forgive me. Didn't mean to pry.”

Silence. The scratching of Archen's claws on the stone, the liquid roar of the falls.

“I don't know what happened,” said Archen, the words coming out too fast. “The volcano erupted, I … I don't know, I guess I died? I don't remember that part. The next thing I know, I'm waking up in this room I've never seen before, all covered in flakes of rock. This Pokémon I didn't recognise hovering over me, saying that the experiment was a success.”

(The hot desert wind gusting through the open door. Sigilyph hunched over his papers, levitating a glowing chunk of emera ore towards the circle. Unown battering themselves fruitlessly against the sides of their jars.)

“Sigilyph, his name was. An alchemist. He said he was researching life forces, and had wanted to see if pokémon could be revived from their fossilised remains. And, well, obviously they can.” She touched a claw to her chest. “Not quite the same as they were before, though – Archen are meant to be Dragon/Flying. But I guess some of that stone got stuck in me. And … now I can use Rock-type moves. Including Ancient Power.”

Unown was silent for a few moments, thinking.

“I'm sorry,” they said, in the end. “That sounds quite lonely.”

(The humid, heat-sick jungle. The Archen colony hidden in its treetops. Why do you keep trying? What do you think you'll achieve? You know we're only Archen. Strike hard and give up easy.)

“Maybe,” said Archen. “Maybe.” She snapped her beak shut irritably. “I never liked the other Archen anyway.”

“Oh.”

The light was starting to change: there were still crystals here and there, but there were also bulbous outcroppings of violet rock that cast an eerie glow across the path. Emera ores. They must be very far down now. Probably past the point at which they needed to worry about Gliscor.

“Anyway, it was a long time ago,” she said. “I don't regret anything. Horizon is nicer than Pangaea ever was. We never had a Guild. Or ice cream. Or the Connection Orb. Actually, we mostly just had people trying to eat you. Everyone lived wild back then.”

“Well,” said Unown. “I'm, uh – I'm glad that Horizon is treating you well.”

Archen watched them as they spoke, but detected no irony at all.

“Thanks.” Brief, tentative show of her fangs. “Sorry. You didn't ask for any of that. I should be more professional.”

“No, no. I don't mind at all. It's, um … well.” The tip of Unown's tendril sagged a little. “I'm a grateful exile, too. If you know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” said Archen. “I know what you mean.”


“Well,” said Unown. “Here we are.”

Behind them, the waterfall crashed thunderously into a pool so deep and dark it looked almost black beneath the foam; ahead, the river snaked away into the gloom, between damp grey walls and huge chunks of glittering emera ore. The last part had been a little difficult – Archen had had to climb, and as she was out of luminous orbs there hadn't been much light to see by – but Unown seemed pretty sure that this was it. Nocturnus Catacombs. End of the line.

In other words: mission success. Archen should have been delighted – it had been all she could think of this morning, as she made her way out to the ridge to meet Unown – but somehow she couldn't quite find her way back to her earlier excitement.

“Yeah!” she chirped, pushing her dread further down inside her. “I did say I'd get you here, Unown!”

“Yes. You did.” Unown drifted away a little, turning to face into the depths of the tunnel. “He's here, too. I'd know that energy anywhere.”

There could have been a pause here, and it could have turned into a silence that turned Archen's blood to thick, cold slime in her veins – but she refused to let it happen.

“All right!” she said. “Now all we need to do is find your swarm and see if we can't help them out like you wanted!”

“Yes. That.” Unown bobbed up and down in an uncertain kind of way. “You know, I only hired you to get me past the Gliscor. I was planning to do this last bit by myself and meet up with you again on the way back.”

“Sorry,” she said. “That was when I didn't know that you were going into danger. But if the swarm might be angry, and if this Null guy is here, then …” She shook her head. “I think you might need my services a bit longer. No extra charge, of course!”

Unown narrowed their eye.

“You do remember the part about the monster created solely to destroy, right?”

“Um, yes,” admitted Archen. “But that's exactly why you can't go alone! You're going to need backup!”

They sighed.

“Well, I physically can't stop you, I guess. Wait. Sorry, what I mean to say is 'thank you'.” They gave her a long, serious look. “Since Metagross and Latias were still up top, I'm assuming we've beaten the Guild down here, so it shouldn't be too dangerous. I'll have a chance to talk the swarm around before Null arrives and things get heated. But I appreciate you volunteering all the same.”

“It's fine!” Archen showed her fangs. “You're my client. And – and I can't abandon the case. Not now I've come this far.”

“… sure,” said Unown. “Um, whatever your reasons. It's good of you.” They cleared their throat, although she wasn't entirely sure they actually had a throat to clear. “Anyway. We should keep―”

Somewhere further down the tunnel, something exploded. A moment later, several more somethings exploded too, and then a truly staggering number of somethings collapsed in a cacophony of shattered rock.

The echoes settled into tense, uneasy silence.

“Are you sure we beat the Guild here?” asked Archen.

“Not any more,” Unown replied.

A second passed, then another. Archen ran her tongue nervously over her fangs.

(you're going to die you're going to die)

“Guess we better get moving!” she said, and flung herself down the passage.


Archen had had no idea Unown could fly this fast; maybe it was the fact that they didn't have to stop to climb over the debris from the cave-in, but they seemed constantly on the verge of leaving her behind.

“Quickly!” they cried, flitting past a wall of rubble and lifeless emera crystals. “If they blew out this tunnel, they're either squashed or they ended up in the prison!”

“The prison?” asked Archen, in between short, ragged breaths. Her people were climbers, not runners; her feet weren't built for this.

“Where Null was sealed away!” Unown spun around to face her, flying just as fast backwards as they had forwards. “There's a back way around. On the right here!”

They swooped to the side and vanished into a narrow cleft in the rock. Archen looked at the tiny space (you're going) and winced (to die) and forced herself through before she had a chance to back down. It was tight, and she left a few feathers behind – but she made it, and stumbled out a moment later into another tunnel.

“This way!” called Unown, hovering just ahead of her. “It connects to the back exit – we can take that back up to the prison!”

“Okay!” replied Archen, adjusting her satchel and breaking once more into an inelegant run. “Do you have a plan?”

“Yes! It's – what's that thing called again? The one you do?”

“Deduction?”

“The other one!”

“Conflict resolution?”

“Yes!” They swivelled in midair, caught her eye. “That thing!”

And they dived around the corner.

Archen wondered if she should ask whether they meant the talking kind of conflict resolution or the sort that involved Ancient Powering someone in the face, but in all honesty, she didn't have the breath.

She'd figure it out when they got there, she decided, and did her best to speed up.

Down: through caves and tunnels, past glowing ore and the crumbling remains of long-abandoned lanterns; through cracks and crevices, past glyphs on the walls that detached themselves and fled in fear; through a cavern that morphed into a passage, the walls smoothed and still bearing the rusting remnants of ancient pipework. Down, and then back up, along a narrow, twisting corridor cut by some long-gone builder, and then as they turned a corner and saw a dim light up ahead Unown finally slowed enough for Archen to catch up.

“The corruption,” they hissed. “Do you see?”

Archen leaned heavily against the wall, gasping for breath and squinting through the dark. Up ahead was a jagged gap in the rock, almost completely blocked with the same black crystals she'd seen sprouting from the Toucannon's body, lit from behind by an uncertain glow.

“That's the prison through there,” said Unown, drifting closer. “This is the back way in. How the alchemist got out, once he'd got Null chained up.”

“What's – ah – that light?” panted Archen.

“Not sure.” Unown flew closer to the gap, trying to see more clearly. “I really hope they aren't―”

Whoomph!

“―fighting,” they finished, wincing and pulling back from the intense firelight bursting across the crystal wall. “Gods. They've gone and made the bloody beasts again, haven't they? No imagination. Every time someone annoys them, it's Entei, Raikou, Suicune―”

“What!” Archen jumped away from the wall, eyes wide. “They've made Legendaries?”

“Illusions,” said Unown. “Mostly, anyway. They're real enough to hurt.”

“That's not exactly comforting!”

Orange light, the smell of burning hair; through the crackle and howl of the fire, Archen heard the unmistakeable cut-off scream of a small pokémon being comprehensively knocked out.

“Tessa!” cried someone, his voice barely audible through the snarl of a big cat and the zing of a psychic barrier popping into existence, and Archen sighed.

The voice was right. She was absolutely, positively, one hundred per cent going to die. But, well, so were several other people, it seemed, people who sounded worryingly young to her, and she had a client, and a case, and, well. You know.

“Be ready to move in,” she said, raising her voice so she could hear it over the screaming of her nerves. “I'm going to take down the crystals, all right? Then you need to get in there and do some conflict resolution! I'll be right there too if you need backup!”

“Right,” they said, bobbing in a vague approximation of a nod. “Count of three? Three, two―”

Archen swept her wing forward, forming boulders from the floor and walls and blasting them ahead to explode among the crystals in a shower of glittering fragments.

“I didn't get to one yet!” cried Unown.

“Move it!”

She jumped into the air, snatched them up in her claws and shot through the breach, chips of crystal bursting all around her with the force of her Quick Attack―

―and skidded to a halt on the rim of a deep, dark pit. For a moment, as she screeched and flapped in an attempt to avoid falling in, she glimpsed something big thrashing in its depths – and then she was upright again, and as she realised what she was looking at the pit and its occupant vanished entirely from her head.

The room was a nightmare in black glass, crystals crusting every surface like jagged mould and tossing the firelight between their facets. Across the pit from Archen, a Vulpix was crouched over a scorched, motionless Riolu – and there, rearing on his hindlegs with flames bursting from his mane, was Entei.

He was huge. How was he so huge? Archen could have fitted her head between his jaws, and he would have crushed it like an egg between those massive, yellowed teeth. Paws like burning tombstones, smoke gushing from his back in acrid black gouts. Archen stood there, utterly frozen, as he brought his blazing paws down – and bounced off a dome of light flickering over the head of a desperate Espeon, her whole body quivering as her barrier absorbed the blow.

“That's Null in the pit,” cried Unown, ignoring the fight completely. “And you … oh, you idiots.” They zoomed up above Archen's head, eye flashing. “Oi! Listen up, lads!

Their voice was drowned out by Entei's roar; he threw his head back, fangs bared, as embers popped into life in the fur of his forelegs, pouring down towards his claws like threads of molten gold. He reared again, ignoring the aura of psychic energy charging around Espeon – and suddenly Archen realised what was happening, what was about to happen, and without a second thought she leaped out over the pit, claws outstretched to grab Unown―

Entei's paws hit the ground.

The explosion ripped Archen straight out of her jump and sent her spinning back out into the tunnel, vision glowing orange at the edges as the Lava Plume swept through the prison cell. She lay there among the broken crystals in stunned immobility, the ceiling wobbling in and out of itself above her head, and listened to Entei ranting in the prison without really hearing:

“Stop it! You're not allowed to do that. You have to pay. You all have to pay!”

“You don't understand,” someone else – Espeon? – pleaded. “We saw what happened to those Unown. How they got made into Null …”

It didn't seem like a very productive conversation. After a moment, Archen lost the thread of it; blurred shapes passed by overhead, tilting their eyes towards one another.

“… find the others,” one was saying. “If the Abomination breaks loose―”

“Breaks loose?” squeaked the other.

“If he breaks loose …”

Unown, Archen realised, as they zoomed away down the tunnel, voices fading. They were Unown. And wasn't there something familiar about that …?

“Unown!” she cried, rolling over and scrambling to her feet. “Unown, are you okay?”

She looked around desperately, trying to see past the glowing after-images of Entei's Lava Plume, and after a moment found a little black question mark draped over a nearby rock.

(they're going to die they're going to die)

“Unown! Hang in there!”

She rummaged in her satchel and came up with a reviver seed; for a second she stared at it blankly, unsure how to administer it to a Pokémon that lacked a mouth, then settled for cracking it between her teeth and crushing the pith into Unown's skin. She held her breath – and let it out again as their eyelid fluttered open.

“Ngghhh,” they groaned, lifting weakly off the rock. “Gods. I am not built to fight.” They blinked woozily, focused on her. “Oh. Archen. Cheers. I, uh, I'm guessing I didn't just recover from that by myself.”

“It's fine!” cried Archen, heart pounding so hard with relief that it seemed in danger of vibrating straight out of her chest. “But we still have a job to do!”

“Hm? Oh.” They jolted upward, twisting towards the prison. “Damn. Right. Come on!”

“Wait a moment! You're in no shape to go back in there!” Archen reached out to pull them away, but their levitation was a little unsteady and they wobbled away from her claws. “And two Unown just flew past while you were out, too. Talking about getting backup― duck!”

The two of them dropped behind the broken rocks, just as a wave of electricity crackled out overhead; a moment later, it gave way to motes of ice that swirled and made Archen's feathers fluff out around her neck. Apparently Vulpix was back in the fight.

“Gods!” hissed Unown, shutting their eye against drifting sparks and snowflakes. “Did you say they were getting more of the swarm?”

“Yeah!” Archen peered up over their makeshift barricade, caught a glimpse of a huge yellow tiger wreathed in flashes of blue lightning, and ducked down again in a hurry. “They went back the way we came,” she said, mind racing. “We should go after them before they find their friends, except – except no, we can't leave these three. Maybe we should split up―”

“No.” Unown's eye compressed in a way that Archen supposed was some sort of monocular scowl. “Vulpix and Espeon are still on their feet, right? They can hold the line for a couple of minutes longer.”

“They're fighting a Raikou!”

“They'll be fighting two of them if the rest of the swarm gets here,” countered Unown. “And judging by how I did the last time I tried to talk them down, I might need a little backup.”

Archen hesitated. Glanced up over the barricade: Vulpix charging at Raikou, waves of pink energy rippling the air between them. Espeon behind him, the jewel in her forehead glowing with unearthly light.

She withdrew behind the rocks again and sighed. Unown was right; the Guild Pokémon could hold on. And her first duty was to her client, right?

“Okay,” she said, half reluctant, half relieved. “Okay, we better hurry if we want to catch them …”


Back down the tunnel, trying not to listen to the shouts and explosions echoing out from the prison behind them. They went slower than Archen would have liked – Unown still seemed weak, their flight shaky, and Archen herself still ached from the Lava Plume – but she kept silent. She had a feeling that the proper detective thing to do would be to make some sort of jaded remark, but honestly she was having enough difficulty staying positive without being unnecessarily pessimistic.

Snarls. The rushing sound of a fireball bursting. Scrape of talon on stone.

A distant susurrus, as of leaves on an autumn breeze.

“That's them,” whispered Unown. “That's the swarm.” They cursed. “Sorry, mate. If I wasn't slowing you down, you might have caught those two before they found it.”

“It's fine,” said Archen, although she couldn't really think of any way in which it was. “It's not like I could have left you. They wouldn't listen to me.”

“Yes. Sure.” Grim sort of sigh. “Let's hope they listen to me.”

The rustling was louder now, almost deafening, like a colony of Zubat flying out from their roost at dusk. Around the corner, Archen could see weird shadows playing across the wall, tinted strange colours by the light of the emera ores.

She flexed her talons against the stone, felt that near-imperceptible rumble in response.

(you're going to die and they're going to die and you're)

“Hi!” she said, stepping out around the corner. “Sorry to bother you, but my friend would like a …”

Her beak fell open, tongue lolling slackly against her teeth.

Two yellow eyes the size of her head glowered down at her, a few last Unown fading away into their pupils.

“Interloper,” snarled Rayquaza. “You are here with the Abomination.”

Archen couldn't answer. This was Rayquaza. Rayquaza was right there in front of her, so huge he barely even fit into the tunnel, his horns scraping the ceiling and his arms crammed in tight against the walls, claws gouging deep into the stone; and he could have swallowed her whole without chewing; and he was a god, and she was an Archen, and everyone knew what they said about Archen …

“No, she isn't,” snapped Unown, gliding fearlessly around the corner and up to Rayquaza's face. “I hired her to help me past the Gliscor. And gods above, almost wish I hadn't bothered. You never change, do you, lads?”

Rayquaza started, his horns smashing stones loose from the ceiling.

“?” he asked, somehow managing to make that inexplicable noise. “What are you doing here?”

“Cleaning up your mess.” They clicked a tongue that Archen was absolutely sure they didn't have. “Honestly. This is why I left. One person starts yelling about how you should kill the intruders and the next thing you know, you've conjured up a Legendary. Whoever heard of a Rayquaza underground, anyway?”

“Well,” muttered Rayqaza, claws tightening on the stone. “You know, uh … the others sort of bagged the beasts already. And Ho-oh's wings didn't fit in the tunnel …”

Unown sighed a kind of sigh that Archen hadn't heard since she was a hatchling disappointing her parents.

“Idiotic,” they pronounced. “Absolutely idiotic. Now let's stop all this nonsense, all right? Or are you actually going to kill those poor kids?”

“Poor …?” Rayquaza tensed, his markings pulsing with an erratic yellow light. “What are you talking about? They're – the Abomination, ? – our siblings―”

“They were my siblings too,” Unown said, with a quiet ferocity that touched Archen's heart with long, cold fingers. “But they're gone. More death won't fix that.”

“But …”

That light in Rayquaza's eyes. The way his claws dug into the rock. The hummingbird pulsing of her heart.

Positive, she told herself, but this time it didn't seem to stick.

“Um, Unown?” she said hesitantly. “I'm not sure …”

Rayquaza spread his jaws, displaying a throat filled with a bilious mass of swirling black letters.

“Traitor,” he snarled. “You're working with them, aren't you? The Abomination and his companions. You've come back here to stop us freeing our brothers and sisters from―”

“Oh, for f―”

“Unown!”

Archen darted forward, flicking her wing forward in a short, sharp arc; green light pooled vertically before them, just as Rayquaza lunged. The Quick Guard shattered like glass – but it was never meant to hold: jagged shards of broken barrier scattered across Rayquaza's face, and as he flinched and covered his eyes Archen grabbed Unown and bolted around the corner.

“Wait!” they cried, looking back over her shoulder. “We can't just leave!”

“What, did you want to get eaten?”

“No, but―”

Rayquaza surged past the corner, slamming into the far wall as he forced his massive body through the gap.

“Get back here!” he roared, white flame dripping from his teeth. “Traitor! Interloper!”

“Listen to me!” shouted Unown. “You don't need to do thiiiohnothat'saHyperBeam―”

Archen dived; the air overhead exploded with white heat, heavy with the coarse stink of burning.

“Now's our chance!” hissed Unown, as the heat faded. “Quick, while he's recharging!”

“What are you talking about?” Archen tossed a glance over her shoulder, saw Rayquaza shaking the last globs of light from his teeth to fizzle out on the floor. “We can't take him!”

“You took on that Toucannon―”

“The Toucannon wasn't Rayquaza!”

“Well, where are you running to?” asked Unown. “He's blocking the exit. Keep running this way and we'll be stuck between him and the beasts!”

“I don't know!” Something flickered in Archen's peripheral vision; she jumped up onto the wall, claws hooking into the uneven stone, and leaped away over a jet of purple fire. “I'm working on it!”

Behind them, Rayquaza rammed his way forward, fins jamming into the walls with every movement and loosing clouds of dust from the ceiling.

“There's nowhere to go!” he roared, as Archen scrambled over a fallen boulder. “You and your friend are trapped, ?”

“Shut up shut up shut up,” murmured Archen, her mind as loud as a flock of Murkrow at sunset. “Shut up shut up shut up―”

“Hyper Beam!” cried Unown. “On the right!”

Archen flung herself left―

―and was wrenched off her feet by another spear of energy that punched into her hip and spun her violently into the wall.

“That's, um, my right,” said Unown weakly. “So your left. Sorry.”

Archen didn't answer. She had nothing left to speak with. It hurt, even with the Rock-type energy threaded through her bones. It hurt more than anything ever had since she'd escaped Sigilyph and his endless tests, and she could smell her feathers burning, and she couldn't get up, could barely even lift her head; and Rayquaza was coming now, thrusting his way down the tunnel in bursts as his massive coils stuck between the walls; and yes, of course she was going to die, she didn't even need the voice in her head to tell her this time, because she was an Archen and Archen just didn't have any staying power; and sure, she had a client, had to protect them, but what the heck was she supposed to do?

Nothing. That's all there was to it. Nothing but lie here and wait for the inevitable.

“Archen!” Unown wriggled out from under her wing and swivelled to face her. “Archen, you have to do something!”

“Like what?” she muttered. “It's Rayquaza, Unown.”

“I don't know.” They glanced behind them, at the murderous light in Rayquaza's eyes. “Ancient Power him? Worked on the Toucannon.”

“It's Rayquaza.”

“It's a cloud of Unown,” they corrected. “And you know―”

Rayquaza lunged forward, purple fire leaping out from between his jaws; Unown whirled in midair, pink light erupting through their skin in all directions, and let the Dragon Pulse fade into nothing as it touched them.

“Hidden Power Fairy,” they gasped, as the light died down. “Literally the only time it's ever come in handy. But yes – you know how how pathetic we are. Spent my whole life running away from it.”

“You're the pathetic one!” snarled Rayquaza, trying to unhook his fin from a crevice in the wall. “Abandoning us to run off after the Abomination!”

“The swarm's scary,” continued Unown, ignoring him, “but individual Unown are all cowards. Hit hard and scare easy, you know?”

Hit hard and …

Archen lifted her head from the stones, dust and flakes of mica trickling down her beak.

“What did you say?”

“They're cowards. Hit hard and―”

Rayquaza lurched forwards again, planting his claws and wrenching himself towards them.

“Out of breath already?” he asked, a mocking edge to his voice. “Don't worry. I don't mind coming to you.”

“Archen,” said Unown, shrinking back against the wall. “Mate. I hate to put this on you, but, uh, I'm not sure my Hidden Power's going to cut it.”

Strike hard, give up easy. Archen and Unown. The colony and the swarm.

She couldn't win. But darn it, did that really have to mean she couldn't try?

Archen took a deep, painful breath.

“Okay,” she said, trying to get her talons beneath her. “Okay …”

Unown braced themself against her side, doing their best to help take her weight; their best wasn't very good, but the effort was touching. Archen still didn't believe she could do this. But apparently Unown did. And no matter how tight the fear wound around her chest, no matter how loud her mind screamed at her, that wasn't a trust she could betray.

“I'm up, I'm up,” she said, leaning against the wall and clenching her jaw against the dull flame of the pain in her hip. “Ancient Power, was it?”

“Yes.” Unown fixed their eye on hers. “Have an idea. No time to explain.”

Archen dragged her gaze up to Rayquaza, still slithering down the passage towards them. He could swallow her whole, she thought again; he could swallow her whole and it would be so darn easy. One moment of pain and then nothing to be afraid of ever again.

“Final stand, eh?” said Rayquaza, lightning flickering deep within his eyes. “If you insist. We'll crush you all the same, you know. And then we'll join our brothers and sisters in destroying the Abomination.”

Archen coughed and held out a claw.

“All right,” she said, reaching deep inside herself for the last few crumbs of positivity. “This is your last chance, Unown! We can still resolve this conflict peacefully if you want!”

“Peacefully?” Rayquaza snorted, sparks flying from his nostrils. “What makes you think you're in any position to negotiate?”

She searched for something cheerful to say in response, but came up empty-handed.

“Well, okay,” she said instead. “Sorry, then. I may have to use force.”

“Hah! What kind of force can you muster, interloper?”

Archen didn't answer that one: there were more important uses for her breath. She curled her claws against the ground, focused, and felt the stone tremble in a way that had nothing to do with the dragon crashing down the tunnel towards her.

“C'mon,” she muttered, fighting off a sudden wave of dizziness. “C'mon …”

There: the walls rippled, the floor swayed, and the air was thick with fossils, hovering all around her like attentive bodyguards. Rayquaza bared his teeth in a vicious grin.

“You're going to throw rocks at me?” he asked. “How optimistic.”

He huffed out another jet of flame, whipping his head around to arc it through the thickest part of the fossil cloud; fragments of stone fell all around Archen's head, and for a second she thought she was about to lose control of the move – but no, she had it, she did, and with a heroic wrench of her wing she thrust the Ancient Power forward.

“My turn,” said Unown, floating forward with the flying shells and bones. “You're going to feel something – don't resist or this won't work!”

A brief and violent pressure behind Archen's eyes―

A gold flash―

Archen blinked. Had there always been so many bones in that move? And weren't there Omastar shells before? And why were they moving towards one another instead of at …?

Ribs snapped together. Vertebrae clattered into a column.

The Tyrantrum skull clicked into place and gave an experimental snap of its jaws.

Unown had said they could change things, she recalled. They couldn't create, but they could change.

She was starting to see what they meant by that now.

The skeleton scraped the floor with a taloned foot and lowered its massive head, and for the first time Rayquaza seemed to falter.

“Er … what exactly is that?” he asked, withdrawing slightly.

“A Tyrantrum,” breathed Archen, staring. “A whole Tyrantrum skeleton.”

The skeleton turned to her, vertebrae grinding loudly in protest, and cocked its heavy head on one side. Teeth like stone daggers. Flickers of that reality-warping gold light popping in its dark, vacant eye sockets.

“Go on, mate,” said Unown, sinking down wearily at her side. “It's still your Ancient Power. Just rearranged a little.”

Hesitantly, wonderingly, Archen pointed. The skeleton turned back to Rayquaza.

Kkkrrrkkkkkgh, it rumbled, and began to run.

“What?” Rayquaza pulled his head back a little, raising his claws defensively. “What?”

The skeleton crashed from foot to foot like a living landslide, shedding chunks of itself with every thunderous footstep; Rayquaza gathered light in his mouth and fired another Hyper Beam, blowing away its right arm and half its ribcage in a cloud of dust – but it just kept running, mindless, implacable, and Rayquaza was trying his best to shuffle backwards but his coils were stuck on the walls again, crammed in tight and leaving him squirming helplessly as the remnants of his attack faded and the skeleton sped up to a charge―

“Eek!” he squealed, in a thousand high-pitched voices, and as the skeleton lunged to sink its teeth into his throat he exploded into golden light and thousands of Unown, flying away down the tunnel as fast as they could manage.

The skeleton's jaws snapped shut on empty air, smashed teeth bursting in all directions; a second later, it collapsed entirely, its momentum carrying it to the ground in a welter of stony fragments.

A second. Two. Innumerable terrified heartbeats.

The last of the Unown rounded the corner, and Archen sagged against the wall.

“Well,” she said. “I honestly don't know what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn't that.”


Archen dragged herself effortfully up onto a low boulder and closed her eyes, basking in the sunlight as it washed over her face. She was close to the edge and it was a long way down, but she was too tired to worry about the fall.

Next to her, Unown drifted down to rest against another rock, their body uncurling to slump over the stones.

“They're gone,” they said, fanning themself wearily with the tip of their tendril. “Saw Null sprinting up the path back towards the trail with them on his back. That Absol Latias mentioned was chasing him, but he couldn't catch up. I decided to clear out before he saw me.”

Archen nodded without opening her eyes.

“Good,” she said. “That's good.”

After banishing the ersatz Rayquaza, she'd eaten half her emergency sitrus berry and crushed the rest into her hip, which had been just enough to get her limping back down the tunnel towards the prison; Unown had insisted on scouting ahead, flying on before she could stop them, and had reported back that Null seemed to have broken loose. They'd been worried – part of the reason they'd come was to stop him killing anyone, after all – but he'd simply clawed the beasts into submission and demanded the Unown swarm help him get his friends to safety. (Apparently Archen and Unown weren't the only ones running from their childhoods.) They'd responded, it seemed, by blowing open a hole back out onto the cliff trail.

Which was where Archen and Unown were now sitting, among the fallen rocks heaped in the new cave mouth. Looking out over the river basin below, watching nervous Gliscor flapping back towards their homes higher up the cliff.

“That was really impressive,” she said. “The Ancient Power thing. Is that what you meant by being able to change things?”

“Yes.” They gave her a sidelong look. “And sure, sure. You took a Hyper Beam and got back up again, but my shuffling a few bones, that's what we're marvelling at here.”

“You turned them into a Tyrantrum!”

“No, you did, mate. I don't know what a Tyrantrum is. I just changed the move and hoped your imagination would give it some structure.”

Archen considered this for a moment.

“Maybe it was a team effort,” she suggested.

“Maybe,” agreed Unown.

Pause. The river rolled on below like the coils of a Dragonair, huge and dark and glossy.

“I guess it didn't really matter, in the end,” sighed Archen. “Null sorted things out by himself.”

“I think he might have struggled if Rayquaza had jumped him from behind,” pointed out Unown. “You did good work. More than what I hired you for. Double pay kind of more, in fact.”

If nothing else, thought Archen, at least the positive review was in the bag. And maybe the extra money would cover a deposit on an office. Assuming she had anything left after she'd been to a healer to get her leg and tail checked out.

It was exciting. It really was. It was just that she didn't have the energy to feel it right now.

“Thanks,” she said, showing her fangs. “Like I said. Sacred bond.”

“Yes, well, you certainly proved that.”

They sat for a while in companionable silence. Sun, river, vivid slashes of distant Flying-types criss-crossing the sky. Far away, at the foot of the distant mountains, Archen could see a smudge that might have been a town, and some kind of wagon or big Pokémon leaving it.

“Can I ask a question?” said Unown. “Feel free to tell me if I'm being nosy.”

“Sure.”

“What happened after you were resurrected? You never said.”

“Oh. Right.” Should she explain? She felt she probably owed them an answer; they had more or less saved her back there, after all. “Sigilyph kept me around for a while to do tests and stuff.”

(Hold still, Archen. And the air shimmering purple around her, locking her every muscle in place as the needle descended towards her spine.)

“Then just after that whole Dark Matter thing, some Golem came out to the desert where he lived and offered him a job on a research project. He said Sigilyph's previous experience with reanimation would be invaluable.” She sighed. “He basically threw me out so he could concentrate on his new job. Not that I'm complaining. He wasn't good to me.”

“I'm sorry to rake up unpleasant memories,” said Unown. “I only ask because I thought Sigilyph sounded familiar.”

She started.

“You know him?”

“Know is putting it a bit strongly,” they replied. “But yes. Sort of. That Golem is the alchemist who came up with Null. Sigilyph was part of the team that built him.” They hesitated. “He's dead, by the way.”

The right thing to say would be that that was terrible. And Archen did want to do the right thing, by and large. But Sigilyph had been a horrible person, a really horrible person, and anyway, weren't detectives allowed to go a little bit antihero every now and then?

“I guess I'm not sorry,” she said. “What happened?”

“Null. When he was first created, he went berserk. Killed all the alchemists except Golem, and he had a go at him, too. It's why he was sealed away here. And why I was worried about him coming back.”

Archen sighed.

“Well. Thanks for telling me. I'd be lying if I said I'd never wondered. And Sigilyph was … vile. I have the scars to prove it.”

Unown shuddered delicately.

“Sorry about that,” they said. “Sounds rough.”

“It's fine,” she said, although it wasn't. “I got away in the end. Lived wild for a long time – it's how I was raised – before I stumbled across a little village and realised there were alternatives. It took me a little while to figure out what to do about it, but a few years later, I moved to Aeon Town to start up as a detective. And here we are, I guess.”

“Hm. Yes. About that.” Unown flexed their tendril hesitantly. “If it's all right to ask … what's with the detective thing, anyway? You seem an awful lot like an explorer to me.”

She ran her tongue nervously over her teeth. Nobody had ever asked that before; she was a little afraid that the answer might sound ridiculous if she said it aloud.

“Detectives find things out,” she said. “They put everything together and figure it all out. And they get to the end of a case and there's some bad guy they have to face down but they're not even afraid any more, because they understand everything.” It did sound ridiculous, she realised, and had to squash the nervous urge to start preening her feathers. “If that makes sense.”

Unown was silent a moment, watching the last of the Gliscor rise past their perch towards the nests above.

“I'm an Unown,” they said. “And I think … I think you really know what that means. So yes, mate. It makes sense.”

She hadn't been aware that she was holding her breath, but she let it out then. Gods. One hundred and fifty million years and she'd finally found someone who got it. After all those Archen who didn't understand why she wouldn't just accept defeat, after all the careless alchemists and the politely confused townsfolk who didn't understand her devotion to deduction – after all that, and in the weirdest possible way, she'd found someone who knew what it was to have to fight your nature.

“I left the swarm because I couldn't bear to be like them,” said Unown, eye still fixed on the world outside. “Sneaked past the Gliscor and went straight to Aeon Town. Sold the location of a pretty choice gold seam that I knew about, got completely ripped off because I had no idea how much money was worth back then. But I don't have much to spend it on, so a lot of it's still sitting in my vault in the Deposit Box. And, well … I noticed you don't have an office yet.”

Archen's heart stumbled mid-beat.

“N-no,” she said, trying to play it cool. “I, um, I don't.”

A long pause. The falls roared.

“We made a pretty great team back there,” said Archen. “Don't you think?”

“Yes. We did.”

They looked at one another.

“I don't really get out much,” Unown admitted. “Would be interesting to see a bit more of the world.”

“I wouldn't mind showing you.” Archen hesitated, ran her tongue anxiously over her teeth. “Partners?”

She held out a claw – and Unown bumped the tip of their tendril against it.

“Partners,” they agreed.

The pain and the fatigue seemed to lift away from her like dirt in a hot bath. Partners! One mission in, and she had a partner! Okay, she also had a bunch of missing feathers and a probable broken leg, and she had to walk back to town – but a partner! And soon, an office! Forget a decent Connection Orb review, this was everything she'd ever wanted, right here and now.

“We have to celebrate!” she cried, the molten light of her positivity filling her chest in a heartbeat. “I – actually, I don't know if you can drink or not, but I have a bottle of murderously strong moonshine at home. And pretty much nothing else, but the moonshine's pretty good!”

“Murderously strong moonshine sounds damn good right now,” said Unown, with feeling. “But, speaking as a partner and investor in this business … I think we should both go see a healer first.”

“Right!” She wanted to jump up, but her new energy didn't quite extend that far, so she just slithered painfully down the boulder and onto the ledge instead. “C'mon, then, partner!”

“Careful there,” said Unown, rising off their own rock. “That's a really long drop.”

She clicked her beak.

“Okay,” she said, in a more level voice. “You do know that like a good chunk of this is just an act, right?”

They laughed.

“I don't know,” they said, floating out to join her. “You're pretty into it for someone who's faking.”

Archen showed her fangs.

“That might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.”

Unown blinked.

“Wow. Uh. You need to think about raising your standards, mate. But … you're welcome.” They flew on down the ledge, towards the next cave mouth. “Now, we really should get going. This way to healers and moonshine.”

“Healers and moonshine,” repeated Archen, and started limping after them.

She was still an Archen. And they were still an Unown. But darn it, they were going to crush this detective thing.