The second chamber felt… wrong.
Not dangerous.Not haunted.Just tilted, like reality itself was slipping sideways a few degrees.
Cyrus stepped through the arched doorway, Ceruledge's steps echoing behind him. The cathedral floor transitioned to old stone, cracked and uneven, as if this room predated the rest of the Gym. The walls bowed inward slightly, lit only by a forest of lanterns hanging from the ceiling by thin, swaying chains.
Each lantern flickered with pale lavender flame.
Each flame hummed softly, like a faint chorus.
Ceruledge stiffened, blades drawn as its visor glowed brighter.
"You feel it too?" Cyrus murmured.
Ceruledge nodded once.
And then all the lantern flames flickered — simultaneously — like something had blown across them from everywhere at once.
A tiny laugh followed.
High. Childlike. Mischevious.
But distant this time. Echoing through the lanterns like they'd swallowed it whole.
Cyrus's jaw tightened."Hoopa, if you mess with the Gym—"
No answer.
Not even a flicker.
Just that unnerving presence, sitting somewhere just outside perception with its chin in its hands, humming to itself.
Fine. Whatever. Cyrus pushed forward.
At the far end of the lantern forest stood the second attendant, taller than the first, wearing a ceremonial mask shaped like a yawning ghost. Their robes looked older, dustier.
"Challenger," they intoned, voice hollow through the mask. "To walk the path of spirits, you must face sorrow… and not let it claim you."
Their Pokéball snapped open.
Opponent: Misdreavus
The little ghost emerged with a wail that echoed unnaturally long, weaving into the lantern flames which pulsed sympathetically.
Cyrus exhaled."Alright. Tyrunt — let's go!"
A burst of blue energy, and Cyrus's scrappy little cobalt Tyrunt stomped forward with a rasping growl, claws raking sparks off the stone floor.
Misdreavus drifted higher, eyes gleaming blood-red.
The lanterns dimmed.
The whispering chorus started up again.
"Misdreavus — Grief Chant."
The ghost loosed a piercing wail.Tyrunt staggered, whining and curling inward, overwhelmed for a moment by the psychic weight of the sound.
Cyrus steadied him. "Hey, buddy — eyes on me. You're good."
Somewhere behind him, a faint, singsong voice drifted through the lanterns:
"Awwww… sad little rock-lizard… so squishy, so easy to poke…"
Cyrus felt his pulse spike."Hoopa, cut it out."
But the presence withdrew instantly — like a mischievous gremlin putting hands behind its back and whistling innocently.
Tyrunt shook himself, gaining traction again.
"Good boy. Use Dragon Tail!"
Tyrunt spun, tail glowing bright teal before slamming across Misdreavus's face.
The ghost spun like a tossed scarf, snarling.
"Misdreavus — Psybeam!"
A rainbow burst of psychic energy lanced forward.
"Dive under and Crunch!"
Tyrunt ducked low, skidding across stone, the beam scorching the wall behind him. He lunged upward, jaws sparking with dark energy—
—but Misdreavus blinked out of existence just long enough that Tyrunt snapped down on empty air.
Behind Cyrus, a tiny childlike whisper giggled:
"Missed! Heeheehee!"
Cyrus glared at the lanterns. "Stop helping the ghost!"
The air went completely still — like Hoopa was offended he'd even suggest such a thing.
Fine. Focus.
"Misdreavus — Hex."
Purple sigils spiraled around the ghost, crackling.
"Tyrunt — Ancient Power!"
Tyrunt stomped the stone floor. A chunk of the ground ripped upward, encased in crackling energy, and launched like a meteor.
Misdreavus' Hex detonated first — a pulse of cursed energy that rattled Tyrunt to his core, almost dropping him.
But the Ancient Power struck dead-on.
Misdreavus slammed into a lantern chain, sparks scattering, and the lavender flame inside flared bright white — then popped like a burst bubble.
Misdreavus spiraled down…
… and didn't rise again.
The masked attendant raised their staff."The second trial is complete. Proceed deeper, challenger."
The lanterns went out in a ripple — one row at a time — creating a path of growing darkness toward the final door.
Cyrus knelt beside Tyrunt, patting the little dinosaur's shoulder. "Nice work, bud. Rest."
Tyrunt grumbled proudly as he was recalled.
Ceruledge stepped forward again at his side.
Cyrus took one breath. Two.
A faint hum drifted behind him — soft, curious, like someone swinging their legs off a high ledge.
"Almost there, Cyrus~"The voice teased lightly, but far off.Somewhere in the walls.Somewhere in the shadows.
Never close enough to see.
Never far enough to ignore.
Cyrus didn't turn around.
He stepped into the dark.