Into The Unown

James

When James woke up, he saw him.

"Where... where am I?"

He stood at the edge of a grand room, draped in red velvet and gold. Silks lined the walls. A round table sat at the center, surrounded by twelve empty chairs, each one strangely familiar.

At the edge of the room stood a window. He walked towards it, pulled back the curtains, and stared out.

Below him churned a swirling vortex of black and blue. Unown moved in tangled, frantic patterns, forming shapes and breaking apart just as fast.

"Are you enjoying the view, my child?"

James spun around. He could've sworn the room was empty. But now, standing behind him, was a man dressed in clothes that hadn't been worn in thousands of years.

James studied him. "I am James Raider."

The man smiled, calmly, knowingly. "I am Eiran. But you already knew that, didn't you? That's why you didn't ask for my introduction."

James didn't answer. He knew this room. It was the courtroom hidden in the forbidden wing of the Raider mansion. The man before him, the boy, really, was Eiran Raider, one of the oldest patriarch of their family. James had seen his portrait once, wearing red and white, the wedding colours. He had found it while sneaking around with Charlus.

But Eiran was supposed to be long gone. Then why was James seeing him? He clenched his fists, this was the last time he was going to let Charlus pick out mushrooms for their barbecue.

"You're not supposed to be here," James said.

"Because I'm dead?"

James hesitated. The records of the Raider family barely mentioned Eiran. He was more rumor than fact. In the book which told the history of the Raiders, James had read a date of ascent to the throne, he hadn't read about anything else.

"You aren't," James finally said. "You're not dead, are you?"

Eiran stepped closer. James instinctively backed away until his spine touched the window frame. Eiran stopped beside him, gazing out at the chaos beyond.

"You're sharp for a five-year-old," he said. "Do you know what that is?"

James glanced back. "The Unown's dimension?"

"Partly correct," Eiran said. "Do you know why they're called Unown?"

"Because we don't know much about them?"

Eiran's voice was quiet. "They aren't Pokémon, James. They were here before Arceus. The power they hold is ancient—far beyond what we can understand."

James frowned. "What do you mean? There was nothing before Arceus."

"There was, you naive child. There was Saint Alessar and her minions. When Arceus became the only God, he took away her little pets and branded them as his creation. The world may have forgotten, but the Unowns haven't. The power they hold is far too ancient and unexplored."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because—" Eiran smiled, "—if one can harness the power of the unown, they can get the best of the both worlds—the old Gods and the new."

"But why would anyone want to do that?"

"Because only a god can make another god. And it doesn't matter what kind."

Agitated, James fussed. "I don't get it."

"The dimension you see behind you isn't the Unown's," Eiran said. "It's mine."

James stared at him. "How is that possible?"

Eiran didn't blink. "Anything is possible in love and war."

James remembered the portrait he had seen of Eiran in his wedding clothes. The face of the bride beside him had been scratched and burned black. "Whatever you're doing... are you doing this for love or for war."

Eiran blinked, amazed by the intuition of the boy who was barely taller than his waist. "There's a war coming, James. And I've seen what happens to you."

"What happens to me?" James gulped.

"I think you know," Eiran bent down on his knees until he faced James eye to eye. He took his hand in his, gently brushing them. "You die, James."

With a stern look, James retorted. "Then why warn me?"

"Because I want you to survive it. This world, this dimension, it needs someone to take over. That someone could be you. If you do as I say, you could live forever."

James looked out the window. Forever was a concept he didn't understand. He was a man of science, and science taught him that whenever something veered off the path of the known, something terrible followed. Nothing was supposed to live forever. Not trees, not Gods, and not even knowledge.

James withdrew his hand. "I'm not interested."

Sighing, Eiran rose to his feet. "Very well," he said, turning away and disappearing into the shadows.

"Why do I die?" James called out.

Eiran paused. His answer was soft, almost kind. "Love," he said. "You die for love."

James narrowed his eyes. "Are you only trying to saving me because you won't be able to control whoever comes after me?"

Eiran gave a small smile. No denial. No confirmation.

"We'll meet again, James."

And then he was gone.