Death Is Lonely

Part 3

Perhaps worse than death itself was the aftermath that it left behind. That was one thing that Yveltal often tried to avoid; she was guilty enough of their sad faces, and so sick of their misdirected anger. Wasn't she supposed to be some kind of necessary evil? It's what she told herself, at least.

From what she recalled, Xerneas had always talked about visiting the village first and making a little spectacle of his arrival. He had to boost their morale, give them a lecture about being more careful with the gifts they are given, and to make sure they didn't want to repeat the same mistakes twice. Yveltal imagined that was the polite way of saying, 'You don't want Yveltal coming again, now do you?' Because she wouldn't be surprised if that was what Xerneas actually told them. She wouldn't blame him.

And so, she stood, horns radiant and body gleaming. She didn't even have to call out to them; the villagers in their more primitive homes—simple clay and stone—emerged to marvel at her blue form. She knew Xerneas' stance, and she mimicked it to the best of her ability, and it was enough to fool them. They were distracted by her radiance anyway.

She recited what Xerneas often told them. He'd said it to her to satiate her curiosity time and time again, and sometimes also to vent about the parts they clearly didn't listen to, or often forgot, or simply ignored out of convenience and thinking in the present instead of the future. But she couldn't really tell when she told them the same things: they were all so attentive and so eager. Perhaps Xerneas was just tired.

By the time her throat was tired from talking, Yveltal reached the end of her lecture and turned around for the forest adjacent to their village. The mulch and seeds had mixed together well. Gray ash and the recent rainfall that had blessed the previous night made for the perfect atmosphere to regrow the forest. Less overgrowth this time, and perhaps with the trees more sparsely populated, too. Would give room for less close-quarters fighting, and would probably lead to less upkeep by Xerneas and herself in the future.

Radiant light flowed from her horns, into her legs, and then outward through the soil. She felt all of their presences around her, and a few of the younger Pokémon stepped away out of caution. Their parents told them, while still awestruck, that they should avoid getting too much exposure to her light. That much was fair; spikes in energy sometimes led to premature and involuntary evolution. No reversing that.

Little saplings pushed through the soil in controlled and scattered patches, rapidly maturing into small trees. The crowd murmured to one another in awe. A nearby Venusaur stepped a little closer to Xerneas, but then a Meganium held her back. Yveltal smiled regardless; it was so surreal, having others hold one another back from approaching not out of anger, but admiration.

Xerneas, how spoiled you were.

"It's like Yveltal was never even here," Meganium said in awe.

"Good riddance," Ludicolo muttered back, followed by bitter grunts and nods from the others.

Okay, that was going to be awkward.

Refocusing her efforts, she channeled more energy into the trees ahead, knowing that she would have to do several more of these rounds all throughout the wastes to complete the process. It would be all day.

"Did you know that we were only given, like, one warning for that?" another Pokémon said—this one a Leafeon. "And not even through the news, either. A verbal announcement. Talk about old-fashioned!"

"Who, from Arceus? Or Yveltal?"

"Pfft, as if Yveltal would ever show up to not destroy something, just warn us. They throw that beast at us and the rest doesn't matter."