The inn's hallway was quiet, lit only by the soft orange glow of lantern sconces. After the climb down from the Titan Goodra's den, every step felt heavier, like the mountain had snuck pebbles into Cyrus's boots just to mess with him.
Kina pushed open the small lounge door at the end of the hall. "This room should get decent signal."
"Better than the lobby," Cyrus muttered. "Last time I tried calling my parents from down there, Ditto picked up the entire signal converter and started chewing it."
On cue, the blue blob draped over his shoulders made an innocent chirp.
They set up at a round wooden table. The holoscreen flickered once, twice… then snapped into clarity, revealing his parents sitting in their home workshop miles away.
His mother had goggles pushed into her hair. His father was elbow-deep in some glowing device off-screen. They both froze when they saw Cyrus and Kina.
"There you are!" his mother burst out. "You two look exhausted. Are you hurt? Did something go wrong? Did everything go wrong?"
"We're okay," Cyrus assured quickly, lifting a hand. "Mostly."
Kina gave a respectful nod. "Evening, Mr. and Mrs. King."
"Evening, Kina," his dad said warmly. "Alright, start talking. The data packet you sent was… impressive, but we need the story."
Cyrus inhaled.
And told them everything.
He walked them through the den, the fractured shell, the way the Titan Goodra had dragged itself forward like it was trying to resist its own fury. Kina chimed in, filling the details he skimmed.
When he got to the part about applying the reactive binding solution, his mother's eyes widened. "And it accepted it? There was no rejection response at all?"
"None," Cyrus said. "It calmed the moment the compound started bonding."
"That tracks," his father said thoughtfully, sliding into frame. "The Titan Goodra exocrystal shell should reacts well to frequency-synced polymerization. The Titan variant probably has a larger crystal matrix, but the concept still holds."
Kina smirked. "Translation: Yes, it works."
Cyrus's mom pinched the bridge of her nose dramatically. "This is huge. The solution isn't just functional — it's stabilizing. The readings you sent suggest the Titan is settling back into its normal behavioral cycles."
"So the mountain should stop… you know… shaking every time it sneezes," Cyrus said.
His parents nodded.
And then came the part none of them liked.
Cyrus's mom leaned forward. "Now. Tell us about Hoopa."
Kina glanced at Cyrus. "We saw it. Not today, but we've definitely seen it. Rings, laughter, spatial distortion — impossible to mistake."
"It cracked the shell," Cyrus added. "Or… no. More like it forced it awake. On purpose."
Neither parent looked surprised.
"We suspected Hoopa involvement," his father admitted. "Your shell scans showed irregular spatial pressure. The kind only Hoopa leaves behind."
His mother bit her lip. "We were hoping we were wrong."
"We weren't," Cyrus said quietly.
"And… it's following you," Kina added. "Not loudly. Not out in the open. But it's… there. You feel it, even when it's not visible."
His parents stared at them through the holoscreen, and the change in their expressions was subtle but sharp — worry, edged with calculation.
His mother's voice softened. "Listen carefully. Hoopa isn't like other mythical Pokémon. Its mischief can be harmless one moment and catastrophic the next."
His father nodded grimly. "Spatial manipulation isn't a toy. A careless flick from Hoopa can tear a cliffside open. And that's when it's in a good mood."
Kina exhaled, folding her arms. "Great. So it's following us because… what, we fixed the toy it broke?"
"Maybe," Mrs. King said. "Or maybe it's curious why you interfered. Or maybe it likes the attention. Or maybe it likes that you aren't afraid of it."
Cyrus blinked. "Oh, We're… more then a little afraid."
"Good," his father said bluntly. "Keep being a little afraid. Don't take mythical Pokémon lightly they tend to react badly when humans act fearless and stupid around them."
Then his voice softened. "Just… don't antagonize it. Don't challenge it. Don't treat it like a pet or a problem to solve. Give it space. Respect. And patience."
"We will," Cyrus said. "I promise." Cyrus thought back to when they had chastised it, considering what his father just said they must have been lucky Hoopa didn't warp them off a cliff.
His mother tilted her head. "Now. Before we let you go,...the Bloodmoon Ursaluna. How is it?"
Cyrus smiled faintly. "Healing well. It's still scarred and exhausted, but the potions stabilized it. And… I think it wants to come with me."
His dad raised both brows. "Bloodmoon spirits don't choose lightly."
"Yeah," Cyrus said. "I know. But it remembers I stepped in. And… I don't think it wants to go back to where it was."
Kina nudged him under the table. "It trusts you."
His parents shared a small, warm smile.
Mrs. King nodded. "Then honor that trust. But be patient. Bloodmoon instincts can be erratic even when not wounded."
"We'll give you instructions tonight for a long-term healing regimen," his father said. "You'll need to monitor lunar-phase stress reactions too."
Cyrus nodded, mentally bracing for the flood of documents he'd be receiving.
His mother's voice turned soft again. "You two did good work today. Hard work. Important work."
"Get rest," his father added. "And Cyrus? Kina?"
They both looked up.
"Be careful," he said. "Especially with Hoopa. You may not see it, but it sees you."
The holoscreen faded.
The room felt very quiet after that.