Night didn't fall.
It slipped.
The lights of Divide City came on in sequence, but the timing was off—half a second too early on the dark side, half a second too late on the luminous one. The dividing line pulsed faintly, not brighter, just… tired.
Cyrus noticed it immediately.
He stood by the window of the Axis Atrium again, arms folded, watching pedestrians slow as the air itself thickened. Trainers paused mid-step. Pokémon hesitated before crossing doorways.
Ditto sat on the desk in a compact blob, facing the glass.
Gengar floated near the corner, unusually still.
"…Gen," he muttered.
"I know," Cyrus said quietly. "It's starting before people fall asleep."
That was new.
The First Breach
The lobby call came just after dusk.
Not an alarm.
Not a panic.
A request.
"Sir," the attendant said over the room's speaker, voice carefully neutral, "we've had… reports. Guests experiencing visual overlap. Brief episodes. We're advising everyone to remain indoors."
Cyrus closed his eyes for a second.
"Overlap how?"
"…Dream imagery," the attendant replied. "While awake."
That did it.
Cyrus grabbed his jacket, clipped his badge case into place, and recalled his Pokémon—except Gengar, who hovered at his shoulder without being asked.
Ditto stretched into scarf form and looped around his neck, tighter than usual.
In the hallway, doors were half-open.
A woman stood frozen outside her room, staring at the carpet like it had personally betrayed her.
"…The grass was moving," she whispered to no one. "Pink. It was pink."
Cyrus didn't stop.
Crossing Without Crossing
Outside, Divide City had changed just enough to be wrong.
The glowing mushrooms on the luminous side were taller than they'd been an hour earlier, caps breathing slowly like lungs. Fairy Pokémon clustered nervously, wings fluttering without rhythm.
On the dark side, shadows clung where they shouldn't—under streetlamps, inside reflections, between footsteps.
Cyrus walked the dividing line.
Didn't cross it.
Didn't need to.
The air there felt thin, stretched, like the city was being pulled in two directions by something underneath it.
A child sat on the curb near the boundary, wide awake, eyes unfocused.
"There's a man in my dream," the kid said flatly. "But I'm not asleep."
Cyrus knelt.
"What does he look like?"
The child frowned. "I don't see him. I feel him."
That was worse.
Darkrai's Reach
The temperature dropped suddenly.
Not cold, but hollow.
Streetlights flickered.
A patch of grey grass near the dark side rippled, even though there was no wind. For a split second, it wasn't grass anymore, It was an ocean of shadows.
Endless.
Watching.
Cyrus's breath fogged.
"Okay," he muttered. "That's new."
Gengar drifted forward instinctively, baring his teeth.
"…Gen."
"I know," Cyrus said softly. "You feel it too."
A pressure settled behind his eyes.
Not fear.
Expectation.
Like something was leaning closer, testing how much of the world it could touch without breaking it.
And then...
A laugh.
Soft.
Childish.
Sing-song.
"Ooooh nooo~
That's not fair~"
Cyrus didn't turn.
"Is this you?" he asked evenly.
A pause.
Then, closer than before—but still unseen:
"Nope~
This one's not my game~"
The shadows deepened.
"But I knows who's game it is~"
Cyrus clenched his jaw. "Darkrai."
A pleased hum answered—from everywhere and nowhere.
The City Holds Its Breath
People started running.
Not screaming.
Running like they'd suddenly remembered something important they'd left behind.
Pokémon reacted worse.
Fairy-types fled inward toward the city's center.
Dark-types climbed—walls, rooftops, lampposts—seeking height like prey sensing a flood.
The dividing line flared once.
Then dimmed.
Cyrus felt it in his bones.
"Cresselia's not just missing," he whispered.
She was no longer anchored.
The dreams had nowhere to go.
So they were spilling out.
Retreat
Cyrus backed away toward the Axis Atrium, eyes never leaving the boundary.
"Not tonight," he said quietly. "I don't have what I need yet."
Gengar hovered close.
Ditto tightened around his neck.
As they reached the doors, Cyrus glanced once more into the darkened street.
For a split second...
He saw it.
Not Darkrai's form.
But the absence around it.
A silhouette carved out of reality itself.
Watching.
Learning.
The doors slid shut.
Inside, the atrium lights dimmed to neutral white.
The city outside continued to breathe—uneven, strained.
Cyrus leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.
"Three nights," he murmured. "And it's already bleeding through."
Somewhere above him, delighted and distant:
"Next night'll be louder~"
Cyrus opened his eyes.
"Then I'd better be ready."
Outside, Divide City did not sleep.
It dreamed—
with its eyes open.