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Team Galactic was, ultimately, an investment scam. Cyrus flashed a few of his dazzling prototypes, promised new sources of clean energy from nothing, took the money of starry-eyed speculators, and spent it all on his own vanity project. Only two things set it apart from the time-honored common grift. The first was the prototypes. Cyrus’ perpetual motion machines really worked, at least at small scale, more than a dozen of them, wringing energy from the curvature of space, from background radiation, or from the strange pull of Mt. Coronet. Some of them still hadn’t been puzzled out. It was as if he saw some hidden firmament, and knew how to shake it to make the apples fall down. The second difference was the means of evading creditors. Instead of just skipping town and changing his name, Cyrus had planned an esoteric ritual to remake the world in his image. Some people couldn’t appreciate the classics. When his plan failed, it was back to the old standby, and Cyrus skipped town, fleeing to a timeless limbo,  leaving his debts behind.

All that meant that Saturn had to handle lots of difficult conversations with very angry people. Yes, Cyrus was really gone. Yes, they really intended on pursuing alternative energy sources this time. No, they still needed a little more time. Holding Galactic together had been an unwieldy affair when Cyrus stood stoic at the helm, a full complement of commanders behind him. Now it was just Saturn, and the handful of grunts he could coax into thinking for themselves. Grunts had been hired for their malleability, systematically depersonalized, brought into the fold. Useful for running a cult, less useful for a power company, especially when you needed a day off, and wanted headquarters standing when you came back. He finally managed to put down the phone. 9:25 PM. He still had several matters to attend to, and he couldn’t afford to be late for tonight’s meeting.

Valley Windworks had moved to block a permit. Couldn’t really blame them, after the kidnapping. They’d have to be bargained with. He’d see them in person on Monday. It’d need to be a good apology. The Eterna City Historical Society had filed another complaint against the branch building. Apparently local code required buildings to match the look and feel of historic Eterna, whatever that meant. He’d ask the grunts to take the spikes off the sides. Maybe then people would stop planting trees in front of the gate. High energy tests needed approval. Done. Another few grunts had quit. Unfortunate. Everything else would have to wait.

He pushed back from the enormous desk, with its integrated computer. Still seemed too big for him. Too big for anybody. A teleporter took him to the ground floor in seconds. A moment more to find Teal, one of the few grunts in consideration for becoming part of a new wave of commanders. Someday he’d ask if the name was in reference to Galactic’s standard haircut, but he had more important things tonight.

“Teal, I’ll be back the day after tomorrow. You’re in command until then. Don’t rock the boat, and keep the research division from blowing anything up while I’m gone. We can’t afford that kind of attention right now.”

“Yes, Boss. Enjoy your camping trip, Boss.”

Camping trips were his excuse for where he disappeared to on nights like this. It was true, in a roundabout, technical way. He hurried out the building and down the long flight of stairs before the guilt of half-lying to his subordinate could catch up with him. Teal didn’t need to know. The fewer who did, the better. He pulled his jacket tighter. Summer couldn’t come fast enough. The car was already packed, a cooler and a big plastic tub strapped to the back. He quickly double checked the inventory before setting off. Car was a strong word for the little electric vehicle. Golf cart was perhaps more appropriate. Most of Galactic’s heavier machinery had been liquidated early, leaving only a few oddball vehicles like this. Sufficient for his short journey south, at least.

He got to the outskirts of the city before he had to turn the radio off. The music just set him on edge. A glimpse behind him confirmed he wasn’t being followed. Attention back on the road. Craters lined the sides of the route, lumpy pockmarked meteorites buried in their centers. They reminded him of Cyrus. He’d joined Galactic to be at Cyrus’ side, to see how his iron will  would shape the earth, if given power to do so. When questioned by the police, he’d said he hadn’t known Cyrus’ ultimate goal. Another half-truth. By the time he was overseeing the creation of the Red Chains, he’d realized that Cyrus was less than figurative with his claims to remake the world. How could Saturn not realize, synthesizing devices explained as much by folklore as physics, devices for calling and binding the divine? Experts said they were pokemon like any other, but Saturn had visited Spear Pillar after Cyrus’ disappearance, and seen the grunts’ expressions when they described the creatures that manifested there. No, he’d wanted to know what kind of world Cyrus would make, had held back from asking in anticipation of the delight that would surely come with waking up in Cyrus’ world. A bad joke, now. How could Cyrus want a world without spirit while he kindled the spirits of those around him, when his own spirit was so strong?

Route 214 rushed past outside as Saturn navigated the maze of little white fences the City of Veilstone had put up in an ill-advised bit of public spending. The more Saturn learned about Cyrus, the more he felt like he’d never really known the man at all. Cyrus was only 27, and he had family in Sunyshore and the Battle Zone. He’d kept a crumpled up photo of Pokemon Rock in his desk drawer. Saturn wanted to understand what would drive anyone to hate spirit the way Cyrus did, but every piece of evidence only made the picture muddier. He should’ve asked him before Spear Pillar, and now he might never have the chance.

A break in the trees represented the end of this leg of the trip. The little car had taken him as far as it could. From here, he traveled on foot. Toxicroak appeared beside him, hauling the plastic tub above one shoulder. Together they set off into the woods, Saturn dragging the cooler across the uneven ground behind him. Fog crept in as the little trail narrowed further, before stopping abruptly at a steep rock wall, the edge of the crater that concealed Sinnoh’s secret fourth lake. Meandering tendrils of the fog spilled over the top of the basin like a witch’s cauldron. Toxicroak took a running leap, sticking to the rock face a ways above Saturn’s head. Her climb quickly took her out of Saturn’s limited visibility. It would take three trips to get everything (and Saturn) up the slope. That left him alone with a cooler full of food on an unmarked path in the middle of the night. Muffled Chimechosong drifted around him. A pair of wild Dusclops stared out from the edge of the trees. Considering. Next to one another in the dark, both glowing eyes seemed to belong to one larger creature. They scattered as Toxicroak slid back down to his side to retrieve the cooler. Saturn breathed out.

The lip of the crater was mostly above the fog, but just narrow enough to be treacherous. Saturn had to watch his feet as they made their way to the point of descent on the other side. Long ago, a wooden bridge had run across the gap, but now only the first third still stood, reminiscent of a pier a ghost ship might dock at, keel bobbing on the fog like water. Or a diving board. They’d have to go all the way around.

The wait for the climb down was easier, among the bushes of delicate white flowers he’d only seen grow here. They grew at the bottom too, right up to the shore of the spring, still water mirroring the gray above, rendering the boundary between liquid and air ambiguous, at least until Saturn started filling up the canteens, sending little ripples across its expanse. He picked one of the nearby flowers. He could take it to an expert in Floaroma, see if it had some clue to what made this place special. He might not. It could lead someone to question what he was doing here. Not that what he was doing was illegal, technically, but the people who watched to make sure the old Galactic stayed dead surely wouldn’t approve. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. One final check to make sure nothing fell or broke on the climbs. Enough stalling. The cave was waiting.

If the spring had hinted at a dreamy, otherworldly nature, Turnback Cave stopped being subtle. Partially destroyed inscriptions gave cryptic advice, and there was a peculiar thinness to the air that was almost tangible, in spite of the fog, which was even thicker than it was outside. Saturn always took the same general route: Northmost door whenever possible, next available door clockwise if it wasn’t. He’d never seen the same set of rooms twice. Tonight, he found the three pillars quickly, the closest things to landmarks here. On his first visit, he’d looped back to the entrance eleven times before finding the third pillar, and the room beyond. It was as if the cave was comfortable with him now, or at least conceded to being explored.

Fog didn’t enter the final room, where a ledge ran along the walls, overlooking a dais below, leaving the overall impression of a small amphitheater. Maybe the fog had the right idea. A large, unidentifiable bone sat in the center of the dais. Every visit, there was a different bone, or else a small pyramid of red dust. Perhaps the local pokemon left these little offerings? Analysis showed the dust was similar in composition to meteorite. Saturn glanced at his watch nervously. 11:40 PM. He’d made good time, fast enough for the usual preparations. Toxicroak helped him set up the camping stove. An electric lantern filled the room with warm illumination. The smell of several cans of chili and freshly popped popcorn soon pushed back the eerie atmosphere. The watch beeped. Minutes to midnight. He nudged the bone off the dais with his foot, the clatter echoing in the confined space.

One hand tossed out Bronzong’s pokeball, the other fiddled with a humming device, one of Cyrus’ designs, messily modified for the task at hand. He gave his Bronzong the thumbs up, and a low tone washed through the room. The needle on the device shivered. The tone cycled higher in pitch, grew louder and louder. When the needle pointed straight up, Saturn held up a hand. The sound held, soon joined by two matching tones that fell into harmony. A sphere began to form above the dais, flickering between black and white like a broken television. It grew larger than a person, and as the Bronzong reached a fever pitch, a distorted image resolved within. A fleeting glimpse of a dark world, chains of land twisting and coiling through the air like debris caught in a spider web, no way to tell up from down. The sound stopped all at once, and the sphere snapped shut, dropping two (only two, Cyrus noted in disappointment) figures sprawling to the ground, their own two Bronzong floating down after them.

Mars and Jupiter looked terrible. Hair in disarray, uniforms coated in lifeless mud from the other side. Looked like they hadn’t slept in days. In truth, they hadn’t slept in more than two weeks. Or, at least two weeks from Saturn’s perspective. Time was broken over there, so you never hungered, never tired. Eventually, the body fell into a shallow fugue to cope with the loss of its natural rhythms, your sense of time falling away to match your surroundings. One of the reasons for reconvening here in the real world. It had taken some trial and error to find clocks that could function on that side. There would never be another month-long expedition.

What was it doing to Cyrus? He didn’t know about the gate here, didn’t have anyone on this side to haul him out every so often. Did it roll off him, trademark confidence rising above even the breakdown of time and space? Yes. He was taking satisfaction in a world so close to the one he’d dreamt of. Saturn couldn’t consider the alternative, that somewhere, Cyrus was losing himself, alone.

Jupiter was already back on her feet, standing straight, sweeping away any sign of weakness. Mars was still on the ground, savoring the sensation of firm gravity that only ever pulled down.

“Did you find him?’ It was obvious who Saturn meant. With the master of that place gone, the only remaining living things there, besides themselves, were Cyrus and his pokemon. It was equally clear what the answer was, by his absence. Still, Saturn felt hope flutter in the moment Jupiter hesitated before replying. Jupiter never hesitated.

“No. He continues to elude us, but we think we found a message he left. No way of telling how long ago. I hope it makes more sense to you than it did to us. We got photos, but it just seems like his philosophical ramblings.” Nonsensical ramblings weren’t what Saturn wanted to hear, but it was still good news. Evidence that Cyrus was out there, that it was possible to find him. Jupiter continued, mechanically eating popcorn between sentences.

“We tried the new map. Didn’t work, like I said it wouldn’t. The whole place is like this cave, familiar landmarks, but it’s as if the landscape has a mind of its own, and it wants us to take the scenic route. It’s tough.” By this point, Mars had pulled herself upright, and was busy removing the packaging of store-bought poffins for the pokemon. She interjected,

“Nuh-uh, the map kinda-sorta worked, once we replaced all of last time’s routes with the one from this trip. Backtracking was a piece of cake!” That was punctuated by violently tearing open a package, sending a poffin spinning across the room. All three Bronzong turned to track it. The trainers weren’t the only ones exhausted from the trip. Jupiter rolled her eyes.

“Backtracking is always easy, it wants us to leave. Anyway, a map that you have to fill all the details in by yourself isn’t really a map, is it? It didn’t work, and I don’t think it ever will.” Saturn felt the need to defend his contribution.

“Even if it didn’t work this time, the data could still be valuable to future attempts. Just like this cave, there must be some pattern in the way it’s arranged that we can use. If the distortion world really does have a mind of its own, that just makes gathering information more important. This isn’t something we can overpower, so we’re going to have to outthink it.” Jupiter was poised to begin arguing in earnest, but stopped to glance at one of the doors.

“Did you hear that?” Everyone went quiet. Footsteps clacked through the cave, its strange properties causing the sound to echo from all four of the room’s entrances at once. Was Saturn followed? It seemed unlikely that an ambitious hiker would come this far alone, in the middle of the night. Without speaking, they called out their pokemon and arranged themselves in a triangle on the dais, Jupiter and Skuntank on one corner, Mars and Purugly on another, Saturn and Toxicroak on the last. Each faced upwards, towards a door. They’d just have to hope the intruder didn’t come through the fourth one. The footsteps stopped, their owner still hidden in the fog just outside the room. Saturn would speak up. He had seniority, even if the other two weren’t technically members of Team Galactic anymore. Even if Cyrus had told both of them his vision for the future, but not Saturn.

“This is Team Galactic Business. We have you outnumbered. Go back the way you came, and you’ll end up at the entrance. Come through that door, and we’ll have trouble.” It was a woman’s voice that spoke back. Mars and Jupiter flinched at the sound of it. Should Saturn have recognized this person?

“Should've known it was you three. I didn’t come here to negotiate.” A blade of air cut through the fog of Saturn’s doorway, hurtling toward Toxicroak. A battle it was, then. Saturn gave the command just in time, and Toxicroak lunged out of the way, the air slash missing by a hair, before continuing on to strike its true target. The lantern was sheared in half, plunging the room into darkness. The real attack began. Saturn fumbled for a flashlight, but Jupiter was faster. The tip of Skuntank’s tail opened to spray a broad cone of sticky flame. The flamethrower provided a flash of orange light, enough to make out the opposition. Toxicroak squared off against a Lucario, poison jabs deflected easily, carelessly, the returning punches finding home. Purugly glared at the air, tail curling hypnotically, engaging a Togekiss in the age-old game of cat and bird. Darkness resumed as a Garchomp cut through the fire, bulldozing Skuntank into a wall. No sign of the trainer. Most trainers lacked experience controlling three pokemon at once, but from the sound of things their adversary wasn’t one of them, her commands confident and collected, like she was ordering a favorite meal, instead of single-handedly taking on three veteran trainers with a history of terrorism. When had she gotten behind them?

Bronzong’s eyes glowed where Skuntank had been. Saturn couldn’t tell if Jupiter had recalled Skuntank as a tactical choice, or if the Garchomp had given her no other option. Either way, Jupiter was playing support for the moment. They’d lost the opening exchange, and, as unlikely as it seemed, their pokemon were outmatched, pound for pound. If they were going to win this, they were going to have to take some risks. Toxicroak changed stance, relaxing, leaving a subtle opening, gathering power to counter Lucario’s next big hit. It never came. Purugly yowled from the darkness as Lucario abandoned defense and changed targets, breaking the stalemate with Togekiss. Mars’ Bronzong joined Jupiter’s. Saturn finally got the flashlight working as both Bronzong began erecting shimmering barriers, but it was already too late. Above, the eyes of the Togekiss glowed a soft blue-white, and Toxicroak was yanked off the ground by an unseen force, accelerating to impact the ceiling hard enough to shake the room. A forcefield caught her before she fell back to the ground, but the psychic attack had already been devastatingly effective. The big guns had fallen, and they needed a new plan. Saturn sent out the final Bronzong.

The Bronzong closed ranks, orbiting the trio, a triangle within a triangle. Layers of forcefield pulled tight into a shifting dome, rubble drifting into the air to threaten a more active defense. It wasn’t a winning play, but this way they might lose slowly enough to restrategize. Saturn wasn’t the only one to notice.

“This is pointless. I’ll win from this position. Give up now, and stop digging a hole for yourselves. You’re not getting out of this.” It would be difficult to make a break for the doors. Bronzong simply weren’t fast enough to avoid interception while maintaining the defense. Similar issue with trying to flip back into the distortion world. It would mean taking the shields down for too long. Neither exit strategy got them out of the crater, even if it got them out of the cave. Garchomp planted its feet, preparing to crack the fortress. There had to be a way. Saturn just needed more time. Keep her talking.

“I thought you said you didn’t come here to negotiate?”

“A battle seemed more fun than listening to your threats and excuses. It was, until you started trying to stall instead of trying to win. I’ll finish it if you insist, but it would be easier for everyone if you just handed them over.” Garchomp rushed them, crushing through barriers like they were construction paper, getting in a few messy hits before being thrown back by the Bronzong. At this rate, they wouldn’t even manage to lose slowly. 

Mars had been very quiet since their guest’s appearance, but now she boiled over, anger winning over whatever else was going on in there.

“Hand them over? We haven’t even found them! They’re still trapped there. It makes me sick.” Her Bronzong spun to the front to face Garchomp, eyes flashing. The dragon froze mid-charge, struggling against the invisible prison suddenly threatening to crush it.

“Every time things are looking up for me, some hotshot comes out of the woodwork to knock it all over. We finally find evidence Master Cyrus and his pokemon are even alive, and boom! A champion returns from sabbatical to flatten us again. Just to remind us she can. We’re just trying to rescue Master Cyrus, but apparently we can’t even have that. It’s just not fair!” The words hung in the air. Garchomp wrestled free of the restraint, bounding backwards, out of range, but the assault didn’t resume. The opposing trainer stepped into the light. A woman in a long black coat. Saturn belatedly realized who they were up against. Champion Cynthia. Until recently, the strongest trainer in the region, and one of the people who thwarted Cyrus’ plans at Spear Pillar. She looked concerned now, earlier bravado now gone from her voice.

“So you don’t actually have the orbs?”

“What orbs?” Mars asked with exasperation. Cynthia sighed, recalling her pokemon.

“Yesterday, unknown assailants ambushed the current champion, stealing three gemstones linked to the legendary pokemon of Sinnoh. One of them, the Griseous Orb, was discovered here, in Turnback Cave. I volunteered to investigate, in case the thieves were interested in the cave, or tried to access the distortion world. Galactic was the prime suspect. When I found you here, I assumed it was case closed: Team Galactic had stolen the orbs, in line with previous interest in the legendary pokemon. Now I have to contend with the possibility that an unknown party had the means and motive to collect the orbs. Best case scenario, it’s just an underhanded collector. Worst case…”

“It’s another Team Galactic.” Jupiter finished.

“No offense.”

“I followed Cyrus. No one else. We don’t want an imitator any more than you do.” Jupiter had relaxed, fractionally. It seemed the battle was over. Saturn found the backup lantern. Things were too tense, discussing thieves by flashlight. Mars was still composing herself. Cynthia didn’t move to leave.

“Is that food?” Miraculously, the little stove was untouched in the chaos. Actually, looking around, Saturn realized that aside from the busted lantern, the battle hadn’t touched any of the supplies, nor the worn inscription above the dais. Showoff.

“It is. Why don’t we all sit down?”

“Saturn, no. She just attacked us. We’re not feeding her. I haven’t eaten in two weeks, and I’m not sharing.” Anger still stained Mars’ face, but it was being pushed down quickly. Cynthia blinked at the mention of two weeks, but didn’t respond otherwise.

“We still have business to discuss, and I’d rather discuss it over food. I brought extra. It’s not like we can make her leave, anyways.”

They all sat on the old stone steps of the dais, cradling stackable plastic bowls full of hot chili. The first batch of popcorn was already gone. Mars sat as far from Cynthia as possible, but the mood had settled, somewhat. Safe enough for Saturn to ask the important thing.

“As you probably know, the International Police suspended the hunt for Mars and Jupiter in light of their disappearance, and the continued good behavior from Team Galactic. Charon took the fall. Nothing we’re doing here is against the law. Nonetheless, I’d like you to keep our meeting here to yourself. We’re the only chance Cyrus has of escaping the distortion world, and there are people who’d rather him stay there. It would be trivial for them to stop us from even meeting, if they found out.” Cynthia considered it for a moment.

“It’ll make it more difficult to clear your name of the theft, but I can keep a secret. I’m an archeologist, not a cop.”

“You were just talking about tracking down jewel thieves.”

“That’s different! Those orbs are historic treasures of the Sinnoh region, tied to pokemon of its legends. Well within my purview as both a champion and a researcher of myths.”

“Whatever you say. Thanks for keeping it quiet.” Everyone stayed silent for a while, aside from the scraping of utensils. What else was there to say? Even the pokemon had settled down, dozing to recover from the battle. It must be getting close to one in the morning.

“Do you think they represent Dialga, Palkia, and Giratina?” Heads swiveled to stare at Cynthia. She added some context.

“The pillars in the cave. There’s three of them. Most representations tend towards dualism, portraying Dialga and Palkia as paired opposing forces, or else as a syncretic Dialga/Palkia figure, like the statue in Eterna.” Cynthia glanced at the inscription above the dais. Some idea worked in her mind, but she didn’t share it, continuing,

“However, the cave’s builders must have known of Giratina, given the stage we’re sitting on. Adding Giratina to form a trinity is only seen in the oldest depictions, and only then abstractly, in remote or hidden places. I believe that at some point, an effort was made to erase Giratina from history and worship, but that’s only my speculation. If the pillars do represent the trio, the question is if they predate that effort, or were built in quiet protest to it.”

“It’s just three pillars. So the ceiling doesn’t fall down.” Jupiter had little patience for this kind of speculation, even when it was Cyrus who was doing it.

“Do you think a cave like this needs physical supports? Three pillars is an intentional choice, the question is why. I’m of the opinion that there’s no such thing as coincidence when it comes to places like this. Three pokemon, three pillars, three of you.” Cynthia looked at them pointedly. Jupiter was quick to interject.

“There were four of us, if you count Charon.”

“Did you really count Charon? Did Cyrus?” Jupiter didn’t have a response to that. It would be like Cyrus to shape his organization into symmetry with some mystic ideal, though it would have to be inspired by the three pokemon of the lakes. Cyrus didn’t learn of Giratina until Spear Pillar. Until it was too late.

Time to change the subject. 

“You said you got photos of Cyrus’ message?” Jupiter turned towards Saturn when he spoke, but didn’t take her eyes off Cynthia, caution apparent as she nodded. It was a look that suggested that maybe Saturn should have kept his mouth shut until their guest departed. Too late now. She wordlessly pulled out a little digital camera, paging through the more recent photos of alien landscapes before passing it to Saturn. Cynthia loomed over his shoulder, curiosity apparent. The display showed an island of reddish stone spread out above, framed by the tops of those strange, weed-like trees. Saturn felt vertigo. Knowing how fickle that world’s gravity was did little to lessen the impression that the island was falling towards the viewer, or vice versa. Letters were sliced into the “ground” of the island. Each must be as tall as a person, yet they were precise and uniform. Saturn would recognize it as Cyrus and Weavile’s handiwork even if there were other candidates for the author. 

ALL LIVES TOUCH OTHER LIVES

SPIRIT CREATES ITSELF

SOMETHING ANEW AND ALIVE

DOES IT SEEK COMPLETENESS

IS THAT WHY I FAILED

IT CANNOT BE COMPLETE

THE NEXT WORLD WAITS FOR ME

A NEW WORLD THAT GLOWS

I BREAK THE SECRETS OF THE WORLD

Saturn had really hoped it would sound more sane. It sounded like Cyrus alright, just devoid of his articulateness, his charm. If there was a message for Team Galactic in it, Saturn didn’t see it. It just seemed like the ramblings of a madman. Cynthia stroked her chin, though, the same look on her face as when she hypothesized about the pillars. She almost reached out to take the camera before catching herself.

“Did Team Galactic ever investigate the Solaceon Ruins?” She seemed oblivious to the non-sequitur, turning Cyrus’ words over and over like a puzzle.

“No. It was low priority. Didn’t get around to it. Why?” Mars was leaning forward now.

“Lines one and three are almost identical to an inscription in its lowest room. Seven and eight are reminiscent of another ancient text, though I’d have to check. It might be coincidence. The last line is something he said just before he left. It sounds like he hasn’t given up his dream of a new world, but he doesn’t have a new plan yet.” It was a plausible reading. Saturn tried not to be jealous that she’d heard his parting words, while he’d sat at headquarters.

“Don’t worry, when we get him back, we’re done trying to destroy the world.” He’d meant it as a joke, but it didn’t come out that way. Too bitter. Cynthia gave them a sad glance.

“Cyrus stayed of his own choice. A lonely world appealed to him. Have you considered that he might not want you to bring him back? It’s not like there’s much waiting for him here. Interpol is hardly going to give him the forgiveness you’ve acquired, especially if he persists in pursuing his new world. He can scheme for as long as he likes on that side.” The three of them were stunned. Saturn hadn’t considered the possibility that Cyrus would reject them, and the real world with them. Mars looked just as blindsided, but, ah, Jupiter’s stony silence said she’d given it plenty of thought. She just hadn’t brought it up.

“Master Cyrus has got us waiting for him here.” Anger was rising back up Mars’ face as she stood up, tucking away a thread of panic like a stray hair. She’d made up her mind.

“If he doesn’t want to come back, tough luck. We’ll drag him back if we have to. That much of the distortion world is too much for anybody. He’s in no state to make that call.” She looked down at her comrades for support.

“He spent long enough trying to pull us all into his world, it’s only fair we return the favor.” Saturn added. Jupiter just nodded once, forcefully. They were a team, even if the paperwork said otherwise. They were Cyrus’ team, even if Cyrus had forgotten it.

Cynthia had a little smile as she rose, dusting off her coat.

“Well then, I have to be going. I’ve got a report to falsify, and some new questions to look into. I hope you find Cyrus, and show him that spirit isn’t as vague a thing as he thinks it is. If you want me to look over anything, I’ll be in Sinnoh for a few more weeks.” Then she was gone, into the fog, whisked back to the entrance by the strange properties of the cave.

By the light of early morning, the spring was more welcoming. Still ominous, but peaceful, like a gentle snowfall. Mars and Jupiter had made it back through the gate without incident. They hadn’t agreed to shorter expeditions, or longer breaks. Twenty-four hours wasn’t enough time to recover, it was barely enough time to clean up and reacclimate to normal time, but what could Saturn do? He couldn’t threaten to leave them there if they didn’t agree with him. He even understood, to some extent. Something had been kindled within all of them, and it would burn until Cyrus was back. He put away the white flower from earlier as he hauled the depleted cooler back into the little car, checking to make sure the data from the distortion world was well secured. He had his own role to play, and if the others wouldn’t stop, he wouldn’t either. There was work to do.