Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Hands of Creation

Chapter 139 - Gone, and Remembered

"Yeah, that's what I'm assuming," Owen said. "Seems obvious to me."

Owen stood nervously. As mundane as it was, now, and as little as he respected Qitlan, he was still being evaluated for his work. And it was a lot of work and spare time.

Qitlan seemed to scowl at Owen just then, but he clutched the stone all the same, focusing his energy into it. Trails of water spiraled around Qitlan's arm and into the stone, and then out again. Trails of golden light followed the water as it seeped back into his arm and shoulder. There was a pause... and Qitlan was, however briefly, in a trance. His eyes relaxed, closing. His whole countenance had changed, like he had been taken to another world.

When tears fell from Qitlan's cheeks, it left Owen in staggered awe. Qitlan was coming back to his senses, so Owen straightened his back and tried to look formal again.

"So... so, did it work?" Owen asked delicately.

Qitlan gently placed the depleted pebble on Owen's bed. His eyes finally opened, and that cold stare returned. But Owen couldn't ignore that little light flickering in his eyes.

"It did," he replied simply, curtly. "Very good. You'll be able to make more?"

"Yeah. Do, uh, did you want the other—"

A jet of water pierced Owen through the heart. He staggered back, wanting to shout in surprise, but only blood came out. He struck the shelf and collapsed to a knee, squeezing his eyes shut to focus before the blood loss forced him to pass out. He wasn't sure if that was possible, but he couldn't afford the risk. Not now.

"Did you really think light would 'purify' me?" Qitlan said, wrapping moist fingers around Owen's head, pulling him back to his feet. He forced Owen to stare back at him. "That a little light would put me under your domain?"

Unable to talk, Owen only stared at Qitlan with exaggerated confusion, as if that would somehow convey more effectively how absurd Qitlan sounded.

"You should know, Wishkeeper, that your deceptive tactics do not work on someone who used to operate under your command. I know your tired strategies. We've had centuries to sharpen them against you. You are useless. Helpless, like a hatchling still wearing its shell."

He tried to talk again. Getting there, but it was only gurgling coughs.

"Alexander lays claim to my soul," Qitlan said, pulling Owen off the ground by the head so he dangled there, straining his neck. "His power dominates me and will snuff out whatever pathetic influence you try to sneak inside... Do not forget that."

Once again, he tried. This time, raspy words came. "I wasn't... trying. I just made... a Pebble."

"That warmth is not how it feels," Qitlan said. "I'm going to have it analyzed. If this was your plan... consider it an abject failure." He dropped Owen to the floor, taking the second pebble with him. "If you are truly telling the truth... you will make more. Memories are precious here, after all. They can extend an identity's life."

He walked to the end of the room, analyzing the stone. "Goodbye, then."

"What did you see?" Owen rasped, air flowing easier again. The vines growing around his chest enclosed around the flesh, transitioning back into familiar bone and blood.

"What?"

"What... did you see?" Owen asked again. "The memory. You were crying... What was it of?"

Qitaln was just barely within the range of his Perceive. He felt his heart pounding a little harder, his lip quiver, his tail imperceptibly twitch.