Skylar held the crystal shard in his gloved hand, its jagged violet edges faintly glowing, pulsing in rhythm with a heartbeat that wasn't his. It was warm—alive, somehow—and wrong in every sense of the word.
Across from him, Misty crouched by Froakie, applying a Potion to a scrape on his side. Starmie hovered behind her, turning slowly, its gem flickering uneasily.
Gardevoir sat still, cross-legged, eyes closed. Meditating. Scanning.
—"It's not just a shard," Skylar said quietly. "It's a memory. I saw… something fall. A pod. A container. These things didn't evolve. They were delivered."
Misty looked up, frowning. "You mean like a virus?"
He nodded slowly. "A species built for one thing. Spread. Corrupt. Adapt."
He turned the shard over. Its light shifted color with his movement—deepening into shades of black and purple.
—"And I think they're changing Mt. Moon from the inside out."
A soft crack echoed through the chamber.
Skylar turned.
A patch of moss on the wall—the harmless bioluminescent kind—was receding. Its green glow withered to gray, then black, flaking off in dry sheets.
From underneath, something oozed.
Not water.
A dark, slow slime with faint violet swirls, trailing along the wall like veins growing outward.
Misty stepped back.
—"It's spreading."
Gardevoir stood instantly.
—"The stone is shifting. Not just physically. Spiritually."
Skylar pocketed the crystal shard and grabbed his lantern. "We need to keep moving. If the terrain is changing behind us, we can't afford to get boxed in."
Misty nodded and returned Froakie to his ball. "Which direction?"
Skylar pointed to a crevice near the back of the chamber where the air was moving—barely, but enough. "There. If anything's uninfected, it'll be where fresh air still flows."
As they pushed into the new tunnel, the walls narrowed. Roots broke through the ceiling, hanging like skeletal fingers. The stones beneath their feet felt softer. Too soft.
—"This rock's wrong," Misty muttered.
Skylar bent down and pressed his hand to the floor.
It wasn't rock.
It was calcified flesh.
—"This tunnel wasn't dug," he said slowly. "It was grown."
Misty paled. "You're saying it's not part of Mt. Moon?"
—"It wasn't before."
The deeper they went, the worse it got.
Cracks glowed faintly with that same sickly violet hue. The ceiling moved ever so slightly—like it breathed. The air was thicker now, humid and full of dust that made their eyes sting.
Then they reached a wall. Not a dead end—just a barrier.
It was smooth. Glossy. Rounded.
Skylar placed his hand on it.
And it pulsed.
He jumped back.
A beat later, the wall opened—not like a door, but like a mouth parting open just wide enough to let them pass.
Starmie shuddered. Even Gardevoir stepped back, visibly unnerved.
Misty clenched her jaw. "We shouldn't go in."
Skylar agreed.
But he also knew what they'd seen already—Zubat, Poliwhirl, Nidoking, those alien creatures—were just the symptoms.
This?
This was the source.
He looked at Misty. "You don't have to come."
She glared. "Don't be stupid."
She stepped in first.
Skylar followed.
And as they entered the chamber beyond, the light behind them faded out, as though the tunnel had never been there at all.