Morning arrived without ceremony.
No alarms.
No screams.
No visible collapse.
Which somehow made everything worse.
Cyrus stood by the window of the Axis Atrium, watching Divide City wake itself carefully—like someone testing an injury before putting weight on it. Trainers moved slower than the day before. Pokémon stayed closer to their partners. The dividing line still glowed faintly, barely noticeable unless you knew to look.
Which Cyrus did.
Ditto rested on the windowsill, flattened into a thin, watchful sheet.
Gengar hovered upside-down near the ceiling, arms folded.
"…Gen," he muttered, unimpressed.
"Yeah," Cyrus said. "Me too."
By midmorning, Cyrus was moving again—badge displayed, neutral papers secured. No boundary crossings today. No pushing.
Today was for answers.
The Divide City Central Archive sat precisely one block off the dividing line—far enough to be safe, close enough to matter.
The building itself reflected that philosophy.
Half of its exterior was pale stone and crystal latticework, windows shaped like crescent moons and leaves. The other half was dark brick reinforced with iron ribs, narrow vertical windows glowing faintly red from within.
Inside, the air smelled like old paper and ozone.
A librarian glanced up as Cyrus entered—human, older, eyes tired in the way that suggested recurring nightmares.
"Research request?" they asked.
"Local mytho-historical," Cyrus replied. "Pre-city era. Legendary dormancy patterns."
That earned a pause.
Then a nod.
"Third floor," the librarian said quietly. "Restricted stacks. Take the lift—stairs cross the line halfway up."
Cyrus took the lift.
Dark and Light, Recorded
The restricted section was dim, lit by soft orbs that adjusted color depending on which aisle you stood in.
Cyrus moved methodically.
Early settlement maps.
Geological surveys.
Sleep-disorder incident logs spanning centuries.
Then—
He found it.
Two names, recurring again and again, always paired.
Always balanced.
Darkrai.
Cresselia.
Not myths.
Not worshipped.
Managed.
The earliest records didn't describe battles or calamities. They described cycles.
When Darkrai's influence intensified—nightmares, fear responses, shadow Pokémon agitation—Cresselia's presence increased shortly after. Lunar feathers found embedded in stone. Sleep calming events recorded across entire districts.
When Cresselia's influence grew too strong—emotional suppression, stagnation, fairy-type overpopulation—Darkrai's domain expanded just enough to keep dreams sharp, vivid, alive.
Dormant.
Awake.
Dormant again.
Centuries of equilibrium.
Cyrus leaned back in his chair slowly.
"So that's it," he murmured. "You weren't enemies."
Gengar floated closer, peering at the pages.
"…Gengar."
"They were custodians," Cyrus said. "Not rulers."
Ditto shifted into a small, thoughtful thumbs-up, then wobbled uncertainly.
The city hadn't formed despite them.
It had formed because of them.
Divide City wasn't divided by ideology or geography.
It was divided by dream function.
Cyrus's fingers stilled as he flipped through the most recent records.
The entries didn't stop.
They thinned.
Reports of nightmare intensity increasing.
Sleep disturbances lasting longer.
Cresselia sightings becoming… vague.
Then,
Nothing.
No final entry.
No recorded departure.
No catastrophe.
Just a silence where balance should have been maintained.
Cyrus closed the book slowly.
"If Darkrai was dormant," he said quietly, "and Cresselia was too…"
He didn't finish the thought.
He didn't need to.
Gengar's grin had faded completely.
"…Gen."
Cyrus stood.
"Dormancy requires both," he continued. "If one side weakens or vanishes, the other doesn't stay asleep."
He felt it again—that distant pressure.
Not from the city.
From elsewhere.
A soft, sing-song voice drifted faintly through the stacks, barely loud enough to hear:
"Ooooh~
Someone's connecting dots~"
Cyrus didn't look around.
"Did you know?" he asked calmly.
A pause.
Hoopa with a giggle"…Knew what?~."
"That's not an answer."
Hoopa humming for a moment,
"I don't want to say…but you're asking the riiight questions~"
The presence receded.
Cyrus exhaled through his nose.
The Conclusion No One Wanted
By the time he left the archive, the sun was already tilting toward evening.
The city looked the same.
Which now felt like a lie.
Darkrai hadn't turned hostile.
Not yet. He was testing the figurative water as one would say.
He was overcompensating, seeing how far he could push before something pushed back.
Dreams were worsening not because Darkrai wanted chaos, but because the counterweight was gone.
Cyrus stopped at the edge of the plaza, staring down the glowing line.
"Something happened to Cresselia," he said softly.
Ditto formed a firm thumbs-down.
"And Darkrai doesn't know how to stop."
Above the city, the sky darkened just a shade earlier than it should have.
Night was coming.
And this time,
It wouldn't be patient.