Morning in Divide City did not arrive gently.
It came with sirens.
Cyrus stood on the balcony outside the Axis Atrium's upper hall, hands braced against the cold stone railing, watching emergency airships crisscross the skyline. The city was awake in the way animals woke after a forest fire — alert, shaken, unsure which instincts still applied.
The sky where Darkrai had hovered hours earlier was clear now.
Too clear.
"That's what scares me," Cyrus muttered.
Ditto, perched on the railing beside him in a vaguely humanoid shape, raised one arm and gave a hesitant thumbs-down.
"Yeah," Cyrus agreed. "Same."
Behind him, the conference hall doors slid open.
Councilor Veyra stepped out first — tall, silver-haired, dressed in neutral gray robes that bore no fairy sigils, no dark emblems. Behind her came two security marshals, a dream-specialist medic, and Harlan's counterpart from Divide City's ranger corps.
Cyrus turned as they approached.
"Thank you for coming on short notice," Veyra said. Her voice was calm, but her eyes were red-rimmed. "Given the… circumstances."
"That's one word for it," Cyrus replied.
They gathered around a holo-table that shimmered into existence, projecting an overhead map of Divide City and the surrounding region. Red markers pulsed across several districts — evacuation points, reported nightmare clusters, locations where Pokémon had panicked or gone feral overnight.
Veyra folded her hands. "Let's start with what you saw."
Cyrus took a breath. He'd replayed the image all morning — the silhouette beneath Darkrai, arms raised, unmoving amid chaos.
"There was someone in the street," he said. "Black cloak. Hood up. Symbol on the chest — looked like a broken star or a crescent swallowed by shadow."
One of the marshals stiffened.
"That symbol again," he said quietly.
Cyrus glanced at him. "Again?"
Veyra nodded. "We've had reports. Graffiti in the lower dark districts. Charms left near nightmare victims. Nothing consistent enough to pin down."
"So a cult," Cyrus said.
Veyra's mouth twitched. "We prefer 'organized belief extremists.'"
Cyrus snorted before he could stop himself. "You call them that, they call themselves something dramatic, and people get hurt in the middle."
A beat.
Then the medic sighed. "They call themselves Darkness."
Cyrus blinked.
"…You're kidding."
No one laughed.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm sorry. That just sounds like a villain group from a picture book."
"They don't act like one," Veyra said sharply.
The holo-map zoomed in, highlighting the boundary line — the razor divide between the fairy-lit half of the city and the shadow-grown half.
"They operate in liminal zones," she continued. "Border streets. Old transit tunnels. Places where jurisdiction overlaps and enforcement hesitates."
"Of course they do," Cyrus muttered. "Right where rules blur."
Ditto shifted, flattening into a nervous pancake shape.
Cyrus rested a hand on it absently.
"I don't think they're controlling Darkrai," he said slowly. "Not directly."
Several heads turned.
"Explain," Veyra said.
Cyrus pointed at the holo-map, tapping the center of the city. "Darkrai wasn't taking commands. It was… testing. Pressuring. Seeing who would break."
The ranger frowned. "You're saying this wasn't an attack?"
"It was," Cyrus said. "But not the kind you finish in one night."
Silence settled.
Veyra's gaze sharpened. "Then what do they want?"
Cyrus hesitated.
Hoopa's presence hovered somewhere at the edge of his awareness — not speaking, not intruding, just… listening.
"They want imbalance," he said finally. "Because imbalance makes power easier to grab."
The medic nodded grimly. "Nightmares spike when Cresselia's influence wanes."
That landed heavy.
"So you know," Cyrus said.
Veyra's expression darkened. "We suspected. Records indicate Cresselia once nested near this region — centuries ago. When both legendaries were dormant, the city stabilized."
"And now one's awake," Cyrus said, "and the other's missing."
A marshal leaned forward. "You think the cult took Cresselia?"
"I think they think they did," Cyrus replied.
Veyra's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"
Cyrus exhaled slowly. "It means they're poking something much bigger than them and assuming it hasn't noticed."
The room felt colder.
The ranger cleared his throat. "We've identified three potential hideouts based on energy readings and witness reports."
The holo-map updated — three blinking points along the boundary line.
"Old metro substation," the ranger continued. "Collapsed observatory. And a sealed archive beneath the western plaza."
Cyrus studied them.
"Split teams," Veyra said. "Discreetly. No panic."
Cyrus shook his head. "No. You sweep all three, they scatter."
"Then what do you suggest?" she asked.
Cyrus's eyes lifted, thoughtful, sharp.
"You let me be seen."
Veyra stiffened. "Absolutely not."
"They already saw me," Cyrus said calmly. "Last night. I'm a variable they didn't plan for."
Ditto straightened and gave a confident thumbs-up.
Cyrus smiled faintly.
"I walk the boundary tonight," he said. "Alone enough to look careless. Guarded enough not to be."
The ranger stared. "You're baiting a cult."
"I'm offering them curiosity," Cyrus corrected. "They won't resist checking if I'm a threat."
Veyra studied him for a long moment.
"…You're certain?"
"No," Cyrus said honestly. "But Darkrai isn't waiting, and neither are they."
Silence stretched.
Finally, Veyra nodded once.
"We'll shadow you," she said. "Quietly."
Cyrus turned toward the window, looking out over Divide City as daylight washed the glowing trees and shadowed spires alike.
"Good," he said. "Because if I'm right…"
His reflection stared back at him in the glass.
"…they're already watching."
Somewhere unseen, space rippled — just slightly.
Not enough to be noticed.
Not yet.