The morning after Darkrai's final message, the rain had passed, but the storm lingered inside Skylar.
He sat beneath a lone tree near the cliffs overlooking Pallet Bay. Ralts hovered close, silent and watchful. Growlithe lay beside him, unusually still, sensing his Trainer's burden.
Gary found him there.
No smirk. No sarcasm. Just a quiet gaze.
"I heard what Darkrai said," Gary finally spoke. "I was there. I felt it too."
Skylar glanced up, eyes tired. "Then you know… what's coming."
Gary nodded, then dropped down to sit beside him.
"I may not understand everything you saw. But I know when something's real. That thing—Darkrai—it died trying to reach you. I'm not going to pretend I know what mastering the aura even means, but if that's what it takes to stop whatever's coming…"
He extended a fist.
"…then I'm in."
Skylar looked at him, surprised. "Really?"
"I already talked to my grandfather. Told him everything we saw."
Skylar tensed. "And?"
"He believed me. Or at least… he believed you."
In Oak's study, the old professor had listened to Gary's story with uncharacteristic silence. Then, slowly, he walked to a drawer and pulled out a heavy, ancient notebook.
Bound in cracked leather. Marked with an insignia Skylar had never seen.
"This," Oak said with a nostalgic grin, "was written by an old friend of mine. A recluse. A man who chased the mysteries of the aura across continents. He called it the breath of the soul."
He handed it to Skylar with both hands.
"If you're going to walk this path, boy, you'll need more than strength. You'll need focus. Patience. Purpose."
Then, leaning closer, his eyes sparkling:
"And don't forget to have fun along the way. That's what saved me back in my Champion days."
Skylar smiled faintly. "Thank you… Professor."
Oak chuckled. "Now go learn to glow or whatever it is you aura people do."
That night, the stars returned—clear, bright, distant.
Skylar stood alone by the lake, the journal in his hands. Ralts sat by his feet, and Growlithe dozed nearby, snoring softly.
But he wasn't alone for long.
Cynthia approached, arms crossed, but her expression softer than usual.
She stood beside him for a moment, in silence.
Then—
"What Darkrai said… about the powers of creation… I think I know what he meant."
Skylar turned to her.
"You do?"
She nodded, golden eyes reflecting the moonlight.
"Where I'm from, in Celestic Town, there are stories passed down by the elders. About three ancient beings—guardians of all things. Dialga, the master of time. Palkia, ruler of space. And Giratina, the shadow of antimatter."
She paused.
"And above them all… Arceus. The Original One. The Creator."
As she spoke, Skylar felt it—a pull in his mind. Like a forgotten thread being tugged free.
"I remember something like that…" he said, voice low. "In my other life. I read about them. Thought it was just legend… but now…"
He trailed off, staring at the sky.
Cynthia stepped closer. "You're not alone in this, Skylar. If this power… if these legends are real, then we'll find them. We'll figure it out."
Then, after a long pause:
"And about what Darkrai said… about me. About us."
Skylar blushed, awkwardly looking away. "I—uh—I didn't know that was coming."
"I know," Cynthia said quietly. Then added, after a pause, "Still… it made me think."
Skylar looked at her, unsure what to say.
Cynthia looked directly at him now.
"If the future is that uncertain… I just want you to know that no matter what happens, no matter who else might come into your life…"
She hesitated, cheeks red.
"…you'll always be important to me."
Skylar's heart pounded. He nodded slowly.
"And you to me. No matter what the future holds… you'll always have a place in my heart, Cynthia."
She stepped forward and gently hugged him.
Skylar froze—then returned the embrace.
They stood there, wrapped in quiet, with only the stars as witnesses.
And in Skylar's mind, a vow formed:
No one must ever know the truth of my rebirth.This is my second life… but it's the only one I have now.And I'll use it to protect them all.