Divide City woke up like someone who'd survived a nightmare without remembering the details.
The damage was obvious — cracked streets, shattered glass, scorch-marks where psychic pressure had warped metal and stone — but the fear lingered in subtler ways. People moved slower. Pokémon stayed closer to their trainers. Conversations happened in murmurs, as if the city itself might still be listening.
Cyrus stood on the balcony of the Axis Atrium, watching emergency crews move through the neutral plaza below.
Gengar hovered beside him, unusually quiet.
"…Gar."
"Yeah," Cyrus murmured. "I know."
Hoopa floated upside-down above the railing, legs kicked lazily in the air, rings orbiting like idle thoughts. For once, he wasn't humming.
The Ursaluna's ball rested warm in Cyrus's palm.
Then a knock came at the door.
Cyrus straightened. "That'll be them."
In the briefing room
The city council chamber was carved directly into the bedrock beneath the neutral zone — neither bright nor shadowed, built of smooth gray stone that absorbed light evenly. It felt deliberate, like the city had always known it might need a place like this.
Six officials sat at the table.
Two rangers.
One psychic researcher.
One urban ecologist.
One historian.
One very tired mayor.
They all looked like they hadn't slept.
Cyrus didn't bother sitting when invited.
"You saw it," the mayor said without preamble. "Mega Darkrai."
"Yes," Cyrus replied. "And no, I would say it wasn't random."
That got their attention.
He activated his holo, projecting a simplified map of the plaza.
"I was outside during the escalation. I saw someone in the street — hooded, black cloak. They weren't running. They weren't panicking."
The historian leaned forward. "They were… praying?"
Cyrus nodded. "Hands raised. Facing Darkrai. Not afraid."
A quiet murmur passed through the table.
The psychic researcher swallowed. "That matches older incident reports."
Cyrus blinked. "Older?"
The historian cleared her throat. "Divide City has… a recurring problem. Every few centuries."
She tapped her tablet. Symbols appeared — crude, stylized, ancient.
A crescent eclipsed by shadow.
A sigil shaped like a broken star.
"They call themselves Darkness."
There was a beat.
Then Cyrus snorted.
Actually laughed.
"I'm sorry," he said, holding up a hand. "That's…that's the name? Darkness?"
The mayor winced. "Yes."
"It sounds like—" Cyrus shook his head, still smiling faintly. "Like something from a bedtime story. 'Beware the spooky cult of Darkness.'"
No one else laughed.
Cyrus's smile faded.
"…Okay," he said quietly. "That's on me."
The historian continued. "They've appeared under different names over time. Always centered around Darkrai worship. Always during periods where Cresselia is… absent."
Cyrus's jaw tightened.
"So you know," he said. "You just didn't want to say it."
"We didn't know," the ranger corrected. "We suspected."
Cyrus nodded once. "Cresselia is missing. That's why Darkrai's power is spiking. He's not meant to exist unchecked."
The ecologist rubbed her temples. "That explains the ecosystem drift. Fairy-types overpopulating one side. Dark-types becoming aggressive on the other."
"Balance breaking," Cyrus said. "Not evil. Not at first."
The mayor looked at him sharply. "You're defending it."
"I'm explaining it," Cyrus replied. "Big difference."
Silence settled.
Finally, the psychic researcher asked, "Do you think the cult has Cresselia?"
Cyrus didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
The word landed like a stone dropped into water.
Hoopa, unseen by everyone else in the room, hummed softly.
"Mm~. That's a naughty secret~."
Cyrus ignored him.
"They wanted Darkrai awake," he continued. "Angry. Strong enough to force a change. Last night wasn't an invasion — it was a proof of concept."
The ranger exhaled sharply. "So what happens next?"
Cyrus met their eyes, one by one.
"Darkrai escalates," he said. "The cult pushes harder. And if Cresselia isn't freed…"
He didn't finish.
He didn't have to.
When the meeting adjourned, Cyrus stepped back into daylight that felt fragile, like it might crack if pushed too hard.
Hoopa popped into view beside him, spinning lazily.
"Darkness~," he sang. "Such a serious name~."
Cyrus huffed. "I know, right? If you're going to start a dangerous cult, at least workshop the branding."
Hoopa giggled.
"But they're earnest~," he added. "That makes them extra messy~."
Cyrus looked out over the city again.
People rebuilding.
Pokémon returning cautiously to familiar places.
Life trying to pretend last night hadn't happened.
"They took something that keeps the world balanced," Cyrus said quietly. "And now everyone pays for it."
Hoopa tilted his head, floating closer.
"And what will you do~?"
Cyrus didn't answer right away.
Then he closed his hand around the Ursaluna's ball.
"What I always do," he said. "Fix the mess someone else made."
Above them, clouds drifted slowly across a sky that no longer screamed.
But the city didn't sleep easily anymore.
And somewhere in the dark, Darkness was smiling.