Eeeeeeep. Wow, I look forward to the conclusion!
Goodness, I never thought such a fic could come about Jesse's Wobbuffet. But it's awesome.
Eeeeeeep. Wow, I look forward to the conclusion!
Goodness, I never thought such a fic could come about Jesse's Wobbuffet. But it's awesome.
That Glalie was reduced to shards...
So, can just Nosepass regenerate after an Explosion or can all who can learn it can?
So, if Persain is dead, than who is the one trying to undermine the reunion? All I know is that someone is dying. Pray to Kami it ain't the main cast.
Whether or not I'd ever be able to share it with anyone was not guaranteed, however--I'm glad to have been able to do so, and glad that you've enjoyed it so far. ^^
Whether or not the pokémon regenerates on its own is another matter--some of them might be able to, whereas others might require some kind of treatment to recover. What using selfdestruct or explosion entails would factor into whether or not the user would be able to regenerate on its own, how it would, and if it would even really need to--I imagine that the way those moves are actually performed varies from species to species, possibly even among members of the same species; for example, some might set off the explosion internally as Karo does, while others might not literally be blowing themselves up but rather simply setting off an explosion externally.
Nosepass, I reckon, would fall under the category of "regenerates from it on its own". I think it was the fact that it learns rest naturally that gave me that notion--perhaps it goes into something of a restlike state after being knocked out by using the move and begins very slowly rebuilding itself (too slowly for a trainer to enjoy as an advantage--a self-K.O.'d nosepass wouldn't be getting back into any battles on its own anytime even remotely soon, possibly not even within the trainer's lifetime).
And so we have arrived at this story’s end. Now, let us conclude The Origin of Storms.
Chapter 17 – Lifeforce
It was like resurrection.
His spirit rose up from the depths of the nothingness that had been occupying him. His voice rose, as well, in a crescendo that kept growing with each repetition of the truth that had brought him back to his senses:
“She’s here! She’s here!”
She was here. Even after all these years, to his great surprise and even greater delight, she still remembered him… and, he hoped, still loved him. And at long last, she was returning to his life. Any moment now, she might arrive in the room where he was being held, rescue him, and take him back into her embrace…
The hollow voice droned from deep within his mind. Its strength and the way that it addressed Esaax so directly, completely unbidden, made its true nature horribly clear to Esaax. The cold and empty voice that had just spoken to him represented none other than the warped and malignant darkness residing within himself. It was no longer merely a part of him—it had become a separate entity lurking within him, a parasite trying to take his life for its own.
Your senses lie. Your joy is an illusion.
That’s not true! Esaax argued internally. He felt and recognized the distinct psychic signature of Ntairow’s presence and could not deny that he did. What that signature represented had changed, but who it signified was unmistakable to his senses and memory.
You delude yourself. You will not have her.
You’re wrong! Esaax said, silently and firmly. She’s here for me—
—But she will not stay. She abandoned you before, and will only abandon you again. Forget her.
“No!” Esaax shouted, speaking aloud now. “She’ll be here soon, and we will have each other again. She’s gonna save me!”
No one will save you. Nothing is left for you. Forget her. Forget yourself.
“No! You’re wrong!” Esaax shouted, fighting to defy and destroy the darkness through sheer force of will.
But the power of the living darkness would not be denied. It literally rose to his surface, to visibility, manifesting itself in thin streaks of black energy that snaked over his skin like dark vines. They crept out over his entire body and then merged together, leaving every square inch of his skin emitting the black glow of the parasitic darkness.
I am this body now, not you, it said. Your time is long past over. Give up.
“No, I refuse to!”
The darkness erupted into a seething, black aura around Esaax. Give up, it pressed.
As the kwazai’s defiant roar faded, the darkness found itself possessed of a cold, absolute hatred, a feeling stronger than anything that it had felt in its hours-long existence. In the face of what seemed to him like a real hope for salvation, Esaax had become too strong to simply erase—this would not do, the darkness determined at once with a savage resolve.
There will be no hope, no strength, no life for you, it declared hatefully. I will make you accept this. I will make you pray for oblivion!
The darkness unleashed a massive, hollow roar within Esaax’s mind. It seemed to retreat back into the corners of Esaax’s mind from whence it had come, the dark aura vanishing and revealing his blue skin once more—but then the darkness sent a bolt of its power shooting down Esaax’s spine, dealing grievous damage to his pseudobrain before seeming to explode in a burst of pain within the end of his tail, temporarily distorting the perception of his oculons.
A split-second later, there was a bright, orange flash, and Esaax was shocked out of breath and onto his knees.
* * *
As Syr slithered along behind Solonn, trying very hard but with scant success not to think about just what he was following, he felt something pull sharply on his tail and heard a loud thud. He looked back and saw that Ntairow had dropped Karo and gone totally rigid.
“What is it?” Syr asked.
“Esaax,” Ntairow said, pain and fear both present in her tone. “He’s returned to my perception—and he’s in pain…”
“What?! How bad is it?” Syr demanded worriedly.
“It’s horrible… Dear Night, it’s like his own body is rejecting him…”
“We’re almost there,” Solonn tried to assure her from where he now hovered in place, but his tone and the look on his face suggested that he had become fairly worried himself.
His assurance seemed to be unnecessary, however—no sooner had he spoken than Ntairow rushed out in front of him, staggering slightly and clutching her head in pain but still managing to move fairly quickly, apparently using her now fully restored perception of Esaax to guide her.
Now that Ntairow was no longer helping him carry Karo, Syr couldn’t hope to keep up with her. Still, he opted to try, not wanting at all to be left behind with the glalie—but before he could move an inch, he felt something lift the nosepass in his grip off of the ground. He turned and saw Karo being swiftly elevated on a pillar of ice, which then deposited him on top of the head of the glalie behind him, with the end of Syr’s tail still wrapped around the unconscious nosepass.
With most of his body now off of the ground, Syr was forced to either try to convince the glalie to put Karo back down or else release his own hold on him. The former very quickly ceased to feel like an option, however; the glalie simply intimidated him too much for him to find it within himself to challenge what she had done… and besides which, underneath it all, he did recognize that she was sincerely trying to help, and as much as he would have preferred not to need the help of her or any others of her kind, he fell short of ingratitude.
“…Thanks,” he managed, his voice coming out as little more than a squeak.
“No problem,” the glalie said, securing the nosepass to her head with ice as she spoke, and then she took off after Solonn and Ntairow. Syr hastened to follow her, still not altogether comfortable with the notion of leaving Karo unsupervised with one of them and spurred on further still by the sound of Ntairow screaming.
Soon, they caught up with Ntairow and Solonn, who had just halted before a large pair of metal doors, the former leaning against the latter. Ntairow was silent now but grimacing in pain, one hand still holding her head.
Once everyone had come to a stop there, “This is Sylvester DeLeo, requesting entry,” Solonn said, at which Syr’s eyes widened in surprise—not because of what the glalie had said but how he’d said it. He’d sounded nothing like he had before; the voice that he’d just used was quite a bit higher. But what really caught Syr’s attention was that Solonn had spoken in a human language there—some corner of his mind fleetingly wondered if he were just mimicking the words or if, like someone whom Syr had known so many years ago, this glalie actually spoke the language fluently.
“Voice recognition confirmed,” said a computerized voice from an unseen source. “Please state password.”
“Password,” Solonn responded, still using the higher voice and the human language.
“Password valid,” said the computerized voice. “Access granted.”
The doors slid open, and with the unconscious nosepass in tow, the four entered a room of moderate size that was more brightly lit than the rest of the Hope Institute. The scene now surrounding them was like a gallery of pre- and post-Extinction high technology.
And in the center of it all was Esaax, slumped in his containment field. He was all too plainly suffering, panting and groaning with his tail lashing and his hands gripping his head.
Ntairow rushed to him at once, pressing all four of her hands against the wall of energy as tears streamed from her widened eyes. The need to help this creature whose agony she shared burned within her, made all the more urgent and painful by stemming from the suffering of someone whom she loved. Right before her eyes, not to mention her more potent senses, Esaax was heading toward a highly volatile state. He direly needed her… but she could not get to him.
“How do you get him out of this thing?!” she demanded.
“Over here!” Solonn called, and he led Ntairow over to a control panel.
“I don’t know how to use this!” Ntairow told him.
“It’s all right; I do. Just do exactly as I tell you, and we’ll have him right out in no time,” Solonn said.
Syr very briefly watched Ntairow and Solonn work to free Esaax, hoping that they would indeed do so as quickly as Solonn had claimed that they would. He then returned his gaze to Esaax with difficulty, swallowing against a lump in his throat. “You’re… you’re going to be all right,” he told Esaax as consolingly as he could manage, beginning to move closer to the kwazai as he spoke.
Esaax shook his head and raised a hand palm-outward as if in warning, at which Syr halted. The kwazai’s jaws parted as though he were about to say something, but his voice was cut off before it could even form a single word when a burst of searing, orange light suddenly blazed into being around him. He then cried out yet again as a enormous spasm tore through his body.
At that same instant, Ntairow convulsed likewise, echoing Esaax’s scream in her empathy. She staggered, and Solonn moved quickly to break her fall.
“Dear Holy Night, he’s tearing himself apart!” Ntairow cried.
“You’re almost finished!” Solonn assured her.
Sure enough, the containment field soon vanished with a faint humming sound. Ntairow ran back to Esaax, dropping into something like a kneeling position and throwing all of her arms around him upon reaching him, crying against his chest as she embraced the newly-freed kwazai tightly.
Esaax lowered his forehead against hers and held it there as steadily as it could given that he was now shaking uncontrollably, his own tears sliding swiftly down his muzzle and falling to the floor. “Ntairow…” he said, his voice hoarse and quavering. “I’m—” He broke off briefly, giving another pained groan, at which Ntairow embraced him even tighter. “I’m glad you’re here. I’d… given up on us ever finding each other again,” he admitted, closing his eyes in shame.
“I should have found you sooner…” Ntairow lamented in a pained voice that barely exceeded a whisper. “Dear Night, look at you… you’re so broken…” Esaax had gone into autoempathic crisis, she knew. That was something that she couldn’t repair—it was something that no one could repair until he was elementally stabilized. He just had so terribly little time…
“I don’t think you can fix me now,” Esaax said quietly. “I’m… I’m not gonna make it.”
“No,” Ntairow said fiercely, resolutely. “You will survive this… and your son will finally get to know the father he’s been missing all these years…”
Esaax just stared at Ntairow for a moment with eyes filled with disbelief and wonder. Then a smile spread along his muzzle in spite of his pain. “…You’re serious?”
Ntairow nodded. “He is called Zerzekai. And unless I am mistaken, he has just begun his life as a wobbuffet,” she informed Esaax proudly.
Esaax managed a faint but joyous laugh, then wrapped his arms around Ntairow, squeezing her as hard as his now rapidly-waning strength would allow.
Though Esaax’s body was growing steadily weaker, his spirit seemed to have grown stronger than Ntairow suspected it to have been all night. That, she knew, made this an especially good time to try and help him shed his excess darkness. Concentrating deeply, she tapped into her psychic element, aggravating and intensifying its susceptibility to psybane in the hopes of drawing the darkness in like a gravitational force.
Immediately, however, she found that something wasn’t right. Esaax had a massive surplus of dark energy, one that seemed to be growing by the second, but the excess of elemental power was not responding as it should have been under the given circumstances. Instead of spilling over into the receptive psychic who opened her element so readily to it, the darkness remained stubbornly in place, continuing to build up inside of Esaax.
Then the darkness chose to respond in its own way.
With absolutely no warning, a black aura flared around Esaax. In virtually the same instant, under the control of the darkness, Esaax roared in a voice as vast and hollow as the depths of space and fired a reflux of unnaturally great speed and power at Ntairow, striking her with devastating force. Her aura immediately flashed bright pink in an autonomic and futile mirror coat response as she collapsed from the augmented strike, scattered black patches forming on her skin as she hit the ground.
The recoil from the overcharged reflux blast was enormous and instantaneous, and as it struck Esaax, he was simultaneously assaulted from within by a massive autoempathic shock. The dark aura that surrounded Esaax then suddenly detached itself and took to the air with a hollow-sounding howl, which allowed a now erratically-flashing, orange counter aura to show around the now screaming kwazai whom it had left behind.
An ice beam and a volley of poison sting needles flew forth in an attempt to arrest the shadow’s flight, while the sharp sound of a sheer cold attack that was fired off with the same intent rang out at the same time. The disembodied darkness evaded all of the attacks effortlessly as it rushed swiftly through the air, destroying equipment and killing the lights as it swept in a circle around the room. It then smashed into the wall and burned a hole through it and the walls beyond it to the outside, where it seemed to dissipate and vanish completely.
With the shroud of living darkness now lifted from him, Esaax was left as a regular, ruined kwazai. A final few sparks of orange energy flashed around him, and then the autoempathic attack ceased. Esaax then toppled over onto his side, panting arrhythmically, blood now flowing freely from his eyes and mouth.
As if in slow motion, Syr was only just beginning to feel the tears escaping his eyes as he stared at the two kwazai before him. “…Esaax?” he spoke up tentatively, his voice barely able to come to his summons. He heard Solonn say something in the background about checking to see if the paramedics had arrived yet, but the words didn’t quite register in Syr’s brain as they ordinarily might have; all that he could really focus on was the sight of Esaax before him, who gave not a single word in response. “Esaax!” Syr cried out, fearing the worst.
There was a slight movement before Syr’s eyes then. Esaax raised his head, albeit only barely. Syr called out to him again, but Esaax seemed not to notice, and the arbok was sure at once as to why.
Esaax’s gaze had found Ntairow, at the sight of whom he gave a very faint, pained sound. With an immense effort, he rolled onto his belly and pulled himself up to lie beside her. As he lifted a shaking hand and extended it toward Ntairow, he prayed that he had lifeforce enough for what he intended to do…
Esaax laid his hand upon Ntairow’s greater right arm, upon a patch of skin that hadn’t been scorched by the dark attack. A soft, multicolored glow surrounded him, then spread from the point where his hand rested upon her until it radiated from every square inch of her skin, as well.
Syr stared at him with fear, his breath hitching in his chest. He felt a strong urge to rush over to Esaax and stop him—especially since the arbok knew that if Esaax succeeded in what he was doing, he would be giving up some of his lifeforce, and Syr was all too sure that the kwazai had terribly little left to spare.
Before Syr could even begin to act on that urge, however, the light surrounding the two kwazai suddenly grew to such an intensity that he found himself recoiling from it involuntarily, his eyes shutting tight. Unseen by any in attendance, the shared aura swelled into a small, bright dome around Esaax and Ntairow as the lifeforce of the former flowed into the latter. The aura then burst into a cloud of tiny, colorful sparks, which fell in a brief, luminous shower over the two kwazai.
As the last sparks fell, Esaax looked down upon Ntairow, who was now fully restored. He smiled gently and kissed her forehead. Then he lay down next to her and quietly exhaled his last breath.
Ntairow drew a sudden, sharp breath, awake in an instant. She sat up abruptly, then immediately rolled over onto her hands and folded legs, her shoulders heaving as she coughed and sputtered uncontrollably.
Once her body relaxed, she began looking about frantically in confusion. Her eyes fell upon Esaax, who was surrounded now by no colors other than the deep blue of his own shed blood. She knew instantly what had just transpired.
Her cry of sorrow rang out for a very, very long moment.
Meanwhile, Syr could only stare at the scene before him at first. He began to draw slowly closer to the two kwazai as Ntairow’s cry faded out, still dragging Karo behind him. He finally reached them, and for a moment he just looked down at Esaax through blurred vision. Then he turned his sights toward Ntairow, seeing her burying her face in two of her hands while the other two cradled Esaax’s head, her whole body shaking as she wept for the lifeless kwazai.
Without really thinking, Syr released his hold on Karo and draped the end of his tail across Ntairow’s shoulders. She turned to face him, and at first she looked as though she wanted to tell him to go away… but then that expression faded, and she only looked weary and broken. Her head sank, and she extended an arm to embrace Syr, and as the minutes passed, the two of them mourned Esaax without a single word.
* * *
From the backseats, Syr watched street sign after street sign go by, the distance between him and the cemetery closing fast. As many times as he’d gone there since the burial, it still felt strange, far from routine.
Doing nothing at all to help things seem less surreal to Syr were the things that he had learned about one of the ones who had been responsible for Esaax’s evolution, specifically Sylvester DeLeo. DeLeo was currently being tried for his crimes against the former wobbuffet alone since the one whom he had claimed to have worked toward bringing about Esaax’s evolution with had yet to be found and the strange, dark entity that had detached itself from Esaax had not been seen since it had escaped from the Hope Institute.
DeLeo’s fate had yet to be decided, and under different circumstances, Syr would have simply hoped for him to just be locked away for a good long while. But upon having seen that mechanized human disguise open up and having recognized the meowth within it… Between the genuine pity that he’d felt for DeLeo upon learning why he had made Esaax evolve and the sickening, heartbreaking recognition that DeLeo had betrayed someone who had been one of the meowth’s best friends, Syr hadn’t been and still wasn’t altogether sure of what he wanted to befall DeLeo. All that Syr knew for certain regarding that whole matter was that he might never be able to bring himself to speak to that meowth again.
There was, at least, one of his friends who had taken a turn for the better in recent times. Karo had recovered in the wake of his explosion, having been given ample encouragement to heal by the staff at the Haven; he was staying awake once more, with the pain of his injuries now gone altogether. Syr had furthermore been informed that the glalie who had also been injured as the result of Karo’s attack had survived and was also recovering nicely.
Syr had tried for the most part to focus on the things that were going well. More than ever, he felt an obligation to show strength for Jen’s sake, especially with the Hope Institute still closed at that time and the fact that Jen had not reacted well to the news of what DeLeo had done there.
Still, Syr neither could nor truly wanted to pretend the recent sorrows away, even though sometimes he wasn’t able to give audience to those matters without letting it show. He continued to pay visits to the graves of his fallen friends even though it still tended to result in him returning to the car visibly upset.
The convertible reached its destination, and Syr exited the vehicle, with Jen staying behind as usual. In silence, the arbok crossed the field and soon reached the place where Esaax had been laid to rest.
Syr coiled there, drawing a deep breath as he looked down upon the plaque before him. There were three names engraved there in unown-script; in addition to marking Esaax’s grave, the plaque also memorialized Faurur and Drasigon, at Syr’s request. This way, he had reckoned, the family could be together again in this way, at least, if no other.
Not long after he had arrived at the grave site, he noticed footsteps approaching. Turning toward their source, he found Ntairow standing a short distance away with an unfamiliar wobbuffet at her side.
Ntairow and the wobbuffet had stopped in their tracks the moment that Syr had looked up at them, and the former now looked as though she had decided to leave and come back another time, laying a hand upon the wobbuffet’s shoulder as if to shepherd him off and beginning to turn away herself.
“No, it’s all right,” Syr called out to them. “You don’t have to go… Come on over if you’d like.”
The other two pokémon hesitated to take him up on his offer, but only very briefly. Soon, they were both standing at the arbok’s side. Syr moved aside a bit in order to give them a better view of the grave. Almost as soon as he did, Ntairow knelt down before the grave, then extended and opened a hand over it, allowing a small, gray stone to fall onto the grass before her. As Ntairow stood once more, the wobbuffet placed a stone upon the grave, as well.
So that’s where they’ve been coming from, Syr thought, having found similar gray rocks lying upon the grave on some of his previous visits. He had considered clearing them away on a couple of those occasions and was now glad that he hadn’t done so.
Syr was curious about the ritual that he’d just witnessed, but he felt somewhat less than comfortable somehow asking about it and decided instead to ask another of the questions that had formed in his mind upon the arrival of the other two visitors to this grave on this day.
“Is he…?” he spoke up, nodding toward the wobbuffet, letting the question hang.
“Yes,” Ntairow said, “this is Zerzekai, my son and Esaax’s. Zerzekai, this is… I’m sorry, I never did get your name.”
“Syr,” the arbok supplied. “I’m Syr.”
Ntairow nodded in acknowledgment. “Syr was one of your father’s friends,” she told Zerzekai. Her gaze then shifted back to Syr. “…I would like to thank you for that,” she said to him. “For being there for him when and where you could. I could tell during our time together that you genuinely did care about him and wanted him to be well.”
Syr lowered his head, averting his gaze slightly as he felt tears beginning to sting his eyes. “Yeah,” he said solemnly. “Yeah, I did.” And… and I still do, he added silently, and he meant it. He didn’t know for certain what lay beyond life, if anything… but he hoped that somewhere, in some way, Esaax and everyone else whom he’d ever cared for and lost were happy and well, with all their troubles left behind forever.
It didn’t quite ease the pain completely, didn’t quite stop him altogether from wishing that they were still with him. But it was some comfort, at least, however small, and as the minutes passed in silence, he hoped that the two who stood sharing those minutes with him had found or would find at least some small comfort of their own.
~ FIN ~
So there you have it. And yet, there remain lingering, unanswered questions. What about Anomaly? What about the deranics? And what, exactly, erased humanity from the face of the world? Five words, my friends: There. Will. Be. A. Sequel.
Said sequel will attend to those questions with the specific level of focus they deserve as it continues to follow the (surviving) characters of The Origin of Storms in a new story, and will also serve as the conclusion to this series. This series is made up of more than just two stories, however—I’m presently at work on another Pokémon fic set in this alternate universe.
That story, Communication, will be coming here quite soon. It follows one of the characters from The Origin of Storms—namely Solonn—from his beginnings to his role in The Origin of Storms and beyond.
Once again, I want to sincerely thank all of you who have read and/or reviewed The Origin of Storms. I am honored beyond description by the support you have shown. In the immortal words of Layne Staley:
“I wish I could just hug you all! But I’m not gonna.”
Thank you all. Thank you very much. ^^
Oh wow. Oh wow. That was incredible!
Took me a long time to finally read this story - sorry about that. ^^;
After reading this, though, all I can say is Holy Mother Of Desu.
The storyline developing here is nifty. Faurur's description of the deranics was rather chilling and the foreshadowing of events yet to come and unanswered questions here definitely left me looking forward for the sequel.
I appreciate the way you handle the -EFF!-ing creepiness of Glalies. The things make me twitch - which is how they SHOULD be, Demon Floating Heads that they are.
And speaking of creepy, Kwazai are a NIFTY concept, but I can't help but get terrifying Cthulhu-like mental image of the things. And at the same time I want to draw them. o_o
Also, the whole thing was stunningly written. I did not see many of those plot twists (I didn't catch the Adn thing until it was too late!) - and it's odd to see the anime continuity handled like this in a fanfic. I'm definitely looking forward to see where this is headed. ^^
And I'm glad that you liked the kwazai and the plot twists, too--both of those aspects of the story were fun as frell to come up with, definitely. ^^
Thanks for reading and reviewing! ^^
Well, this has drawn to a close. It's a good read. You are a good author.
May Kami above bless you on your journey in life..... (Shintoism, by the way. Major religion in Japan.)