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Mmm He can smell her perfume from here.”
A cold dread, sharper than any acid burn, pierced Cynthia’s fading consciousness. No. It can’t be.
“Understood. We’ll broadcast the audio feed on the encrypted channel. Let the others hear what happens to those who stand in our way. Aldith out.”
The radio clicked off. Cynthia heard Aldith’s footsteps approach, followed by a dragging sound—something heavy being pulled across the forest floor. Then, a new voice. Muffled, feminine, laced with fear and defiant anger.
“Let me go this instant! Do you have any idea who I am?!”
Cynthia’s heart, already struggling, gave a painful lurch. Diantha.
“Oh, I know exactly who you are,” Aldith’s voice was a silk-covered knife. “Diantha. Champion of Kalos. The ‘Dazzling Star.’ Or at least, you were. Now you’re just the next course.”
“You’re mad! My Gardevoir—“
“—Is trapped in a disabled Pokéball, just like a certain someone’s Garchomp,” Aldith finished, her tone dripping with mock sympathy. “It’s almost poetic, really. The two of you, together at the end. The graceful actress and the brooding historian. Both thinking you were untouchable. Both ending up as fuel.”
Cynthia felt a pathetic thrash of movement within her—a final, desperate attempt to protest, to warn her friend. It resulted only in a weak sloshing sound. Aldith laughed.
“Listen, Cynthia! Your friend is here! She’s come to join the party!”
The dragging sound stopped. Cynthia could picture it: Diantha, bound and helpless, her elegant blue jacket torn, her shorts dirty from being pulled through the clearing. Her porcelain skin smudged with grime, those striking blue eyes wide with a terror she’d never had to act.
A cold dread, sharper than any acid burn, pierced Cynthia’s fading consciousness. No. It can’t be.
“Understood. We’ll broadcast the audio feed on the encrypted channel. Let the others hear what happens to those who stand in our way. Aldith out.”
The radio clicked off. Cynthia heard Aldith’s footsteps approach, followed by a dragging sound—something heavy being pulled across the forest floor. Then, a new voice. Muffled, feminine, laced with fear and defiant anger.
“Let me go this instant! Do you have any idea who I am?!”
Cynthia’s heart, already struggling, gave a painful lurch. Diantha.
“Oh, I know exactly who you are,” Aldith’s voice was a silk-covered knife. “Diantha. Champion of Kalos. The ‘Dazzling Star.’ Or at least, you were. Now you’re just the next course.”
“You’re mad! My Gardevoir—“
“—Is trapped in a disabled Pokéball, just like a certain someone’s Garchomp,” Aldith finished, her tone dripping with mock sympathy. “It’s almost poetic, really. The two of you, together at the end. The graceful actress and the brooding historian. Both thinking you were untouchable. Both ending up as fuel.”
Cynthia felt a pathetic thrash of movement within her—a final, desperate attempt to protest, to warn her friend. It resulted only in a weak sloshing sound. Aldith laughed.
“Listen, Cynthia! Your friend is here! She’s come to join the party!”
The dragging sound stopped. Cynthia could picture it: Diantha, bound and helpless, her elegant blue jacket torn, her shorts dirty from being pulled through the clearing. Her porcelain skin smudged with grime, those striking blue eyes wide with a terror she’d never had to act.
