he returns his charizard and yet the boat does not sway from the sudden disappearance of weight. freya shifts and curls terse fingers in her lap, knuckles white. the faces flitting by lose their solidness as quickly as it overcomes them. they roll in waves. 

more fingernails scratch the floorboards. 

roy speaks and when he pitches, so too does freya. she grabs him by the back of his shirt and plants her heel against the interior side of the boat, eyes flashing. 

"their voices aren't the only ones in there," she says through gritted teeth.

Roy Aker

☉

no, comes the sound of freya's voice in return, but her teeth are still gritted. one hand moves to join the other in this balancing act while he stares, completely entranced by the waters. 

and as he reaches, he will find himself cupping a face much like hers, but he will feel the bump of smooth scales under his fingertips. he will see her horns emerge from the water, dripping a gray and viscous fluid as she separates from the other tormented souls of the river. 

they're not. a hand extends. shapelessness taking form, taking his hands in her own and looking at him with gray-pallor eyes. all of her is gray and dripping and lifeless and yet she smiles and says, help me in. 

they're waiting for you both.

Roy Aker

☉

she is stunned into silence. artemis looks gratefully over roy and then past him, at her doppelganger. her gaze travels from freya's face, down to the hollow of her throat, where under her choker is a leather cord. it's hidden under her sygna suit, but the black scale of this ghost's patron is there. 

you kept it safe, she says. thank you.

pale gold flickers to roy. she reads his confusion. "this is artemis. she saved me once." a quirked brow from her other. freya smiles. "she saved me a few times."

i've been waiting a very long time. it's nice to see you, roy, even if you're not mine. he's still alive.

the boat carves through the water now. since artemis had taken her seat, the restless ghosts had subsided in their attempts to climb aboard. she sits, knees tucked to one side, eyes on the other side of the shore. 

the mountains are closer. freya can make out the shape of a broken seal by one of them. apparitions drift above them in the fog and artemis looks upward, wanting. when the boat hits the shore, freya disembarks. boots crunch on gravelly sand. 

and artemis holds out her hand. i need it back now so i can cross with you. these ghosts in the river, they're missing pieces of themselves. it's why they can't come ashore. 

freya hesitates. she's looked after the token for so long. it's been her albatross, a distinct reminder to herself that in another lifetime she had been 'good enough' for rayquaza's gifts. what a fool she'd been. thumbs tuck under the leather cord and draw it over her head. 

the shimmering black scale dangles from her outstretched hand. artemis takes it and places it around her neck. color floods back into her. her eyes burn gold as she steps onto the sand. 

her voice has more substance when she speaks: 'they wait by the gate.' she puts a hand on freya's shoulder and nods to roy. 'fetch your answers, but do not linger. the living have no place among the dead.'

Roy Aker

☉

artemis' teeth flash, pointed enamels and gums still a desaturated gray. the hand on freya's shoulder tightens, fingers digging into her skin. they do not draw blood, but the shore behind them stirs. the dead begin to moan.

freya is released, shunted to the side so artemis can squat by the still water. cupped hands sink into the water and the black scale ripples, outlining in gradients of red and gold. the water churns and bubbles. limbs burst from the surface, spraying brackish ichor, and the long dead serpent rises from the river, clawing its way to shore.

'they'll show you the way,' she says.

Roy Aker
permission granted from shiv
rayquaza originates from these threads
(x / x)

☉

there is no shortage of love in artemis' stare, a longing profound in its years finally come to rest. her hand never strays far from the deity's side. their body is whole, no longer frostbitten and missing pieces and freya is grateful for it. it was a gruesome sight, witnessing kyurem's molestation of their corporeal form. 

the smoky mist unravels and twirls around their ankles, beckoning them closer. 

on roy's question, artemis opens her mouth to speak, but then stills, smiling gently. she turns instead and places a slender hand on freya's neck, thumbing the healed-over puncture wound. her lips pull, the tips of her sharp canines a reminder of what she'd done, a tightening of her hand to pull her closer as a reminder of why she'd done it. 

'forgive yourself,' she whispers and freya swallows thickly.

rayquaza stirs. the smoke leaves them, crawling toward the bone archway, waves overlapping each other and rising, thicker and thicker, until form begins to take shape. artemis takes a step back and looks upward at her patron.

a wind gathers under her. with inhuman grace, she mounts the deity and their gray-shaded forms shiver in unison, lines blurring, feeling for the first time in however many years as one. the deity turns their head back, only slightly, yellow eyes regarding the both of them with an unreadable stare, and then they move.

freya's hair whips in front of her face, scoring her cheeks, and she puts up a hand as rayquaza spirals towards the archway. it happens in an instant. one moment they're there and the next, they're gone, but before she could blink, she saw artemis' face - grinning with wild, reckless abandon. resplendent. 

'no, child. this is the gateway to the final death.' that smoke has taken shape around full lips, a set of cheekbones familiar to freya's. a hawkish face, hair white as starlight, and eyes narrow and piercing. she looks churlishly past roy, softening as she beholds her daughter. 

and beside her, another woman solidifies and she opens up her arms and she says, as though she might weep, 'my son.'

Roy Aker

☉

freya has not moved. roy has run to his mother and she, to him, and freya has not moved. the woman that resembles her so has also stayed still, folded her arms over her chest, and watched the reunion with a cold, impassive stare. he asks after his father and the woman's eyes flicker with a spat of impatience.

'bellatrix, you waste time. they're not children.'

but she was once. and where was this woman when she needed her? waiting, all this time, in this gray wasteland. freya's throat tightens. 

"she's your sister," freya says quietly. statures of similar make, eyes like the last rays of sunset and hair the first sign of peeking starlight across a swath of black. the impatient woman tilts her head, the corner of her lips tilting. 

'very good. and that makes roy - '

"my cousin. and you, my mother."

down the spire from whence they came come the echoes of growls and grunts. 

'yes,' she says, looking past her into the dark. 'and you two, the last of our line. the morningstars failed our family by passing when they did. too many secrets forgotten now. and for what? sentimentality?'

freya's jaw tightens. "i'm a morning - "

'you, freya, are a zinnia, and there is so much you and roy do not know, and so little time to tell you. the dead are coming.' she runs her tongue along her teeth. 'you've been fighting your dreams. you need to learn to embrace them.' 

she turns her cheek, towards the portal. 'like she did.'

'there are pieces of our history in hoenn. you need only turn over the right stones. seek your birthrights. reclaim your home.' fire burns in her eyes and shame sweeps through freya, hot and heavy, burdened under the weight of that blameful stare. 

Roy Aker

☉

"we're not dragons. the first thing we do when we're born? we cry." her gaze flickers over to cygne. "we ask for help.

"that's strength, i think. knowing when to ask."

her very own words, spoken from the lips of an aunt she never knew she had and one she'll never truly have, while her mother stares heartlessly on, past them and down at the rolling tide of bloodless, blood-starving monstrosities. 

beyond the frothing, churning waves is the sound of another, hungrier monster. 

"i'll - " she starts and regards this man, this complete stranger, and swallows tersely, "you have my word."

it means everything to her. after shattered trust and broken dreams, all she has left is her word, and it kills her to give away this loyalty so freely. she doesn't know roy. she doesn't know this family. she doesn't know this woman who is standing in front of her and slandering her name. 

the sound is closer now and freya does not turn as lyune crests the peak, velvet wings whisking away fog. mounds of flesh shlurk up toward him, rolling over themselves, tumbling toward the dimly lit gateway. the light wanes. 

she stands to her and she pinches her dead silver hair between her fingers and she says, "you may be my mother, but i am not your daughter."

'you can't run from who you are, child, no more than you can run from the half of you that's me.'

lyune descends. a deluge of fire sprays from his maw and an orange glow washes over them as gelatinous liquid squeals over rotted carcasses. he lands and the earth shakes. his tail twitches, embers still sparking around his jaw, back bared to freya and roy. 

she mounts and leans over, holding out a hand to her cousin, though her gaze does not wander from her mother's face. and there is a wry sort of pride alight in those long-dead, (un)familiar eyes, an understanding that transcends flesh and blood and bores straight into soul. 

it's a look that will both bless her and haunt her in the days, weeks, months to come, but there's no time for that now. 

fingers stretch.

'bellatrix.'

'millicent, i'm not ready. they're not ready.'

'yes.' lyune snarls. 'they are.'

Roy Aker

☉