Sleep did not come all at once.
It arrived in fragments — thin, uneven layers that never quite settled.
Cyrus lay on his back, one arm folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling as faint light from the city's dividing line crept across the stone walls. The glow shifted slowly, as if the city itself were breathing beneath the window.
Ditto lay beside him in a loose, flattened shape, warm and steady. Occasionally it rippled, forming vague, half-conscious shapes — a circle, a line, something like a question mark — before smoothing again.
Gengar hovered near the foot of the bed, pretending not to watch the shadows moving across the walls.
"…Gengar," he muttered, low and uncertain.
"I know," Cyrus whispered. "Just… try to rest."
That earned him a sideways look that said you first.
Across the room, Ceruledge stood motionless near the window, blades dimmed, posture rigid. He hadn't relaxed since they'd arrived. Not once.
The Ursaluna's Pokéball sat on the nightstand.
Warm.
Steady.
Alive.
Cyrus reached out, resting his fingers lightly against the metal. The warmth responded, not a pulse, not a movement.
Just presence.
"Still with me," Cyrus murmured.
Something outside shifted.
Not sound.
Not movement.
Pressure.
The air in the room thickened, like a storm building without wind or clouds.
Gengar straightened immediately.
"…Gen."
Cyrus sat up.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I feel it too."
The light beyond the window dimmed, not extinguished, not overtaken, just muted, as if a veil had been drawn across the city. The glowing mushrooms on one side dulled slightly. On the other, the red-and-gold vines burned a shade brighter.
The line between them remained.
But it strained.
Somewhere far below, a Pokémon cried out in its sleep.
Then another.
Then silence.
Ditto slowly formed a thumbs-down.
Cyrus exhaled through his nose. "Okay. So this isn't subtle."
A voice drifted lazily through the room, soft, distant, sing-song, like a lullaby hummed from another room.
"Not my doing~Not my game~This one dreams all by itseeeelf~"
Cyrus didn't turn.
"Then stop hovering," he said quietly.
A pause.
Then a gentle, almost offended hum.
"Hoopa's just watching~Watching is safe~"
The pressure eased slightly.
Not gone.
Just… restrained.
Cyrus lay back down, eyes never leaving the ceiling.
"…You feel that too, don't you," he said to the room. Not a question.
Ceruledge's flames flickered once in confirmation, He had decided to stand watch for the night.
The City Dreams
Sleep came eventually.
It dragged him under.
Cyrus dreamed of standing in Divide City's central plaza — only the line was gone.
Not erased.
Smeared.
Light bled into shadow. Shadow swallowed light. The mushroom forests sagged, bioluminescence dripping like melting wax. The dark trees leaned inward, vines twitching as if searching for something to grab.
Above the city, the sky churned.
No stars.
No moon.
Just a vast, rippling darkness that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Thump.
Thump.
With each beat, the city sagged further.
Pokémon ran.
Fairy-types fled toward the center, wings torn by invisible winds. Dark-types stalked forward, eyes glowing too bright, movements jerky — not predatory, but compelled.
And beneath it all…
A shape.
Vast.
Indistinct.
Watching the city the way a sleeper watches a dream they don't realize is theirs.
Cyrus stepped forward.
"Hey," he called. "You don't get to—"
The heartbeat slammed once more.
The city cracked.
Cyrus woke with a sharp inhale.
The room was dark.
No glow from the window.
No city light at all.
For one terrifying second, he thought the dream had followed him.
Then the lights flickered back on.
Soft.
Neutral.
Controlled.
Gengar hovered inches from his face.
"…Gengar."
"Yeah," Cyrus breathed. "Same."
Ditto was rigid beside him, surface trembling slightly.
From outside, the city slowly resumed its rhythm — distant sounds, low voices, Pokémon calls returning one by one like tentative apologies.
Cyrus sat up, rubbing his face.
"That wasn't Hoopa," he said quietly.
A sing-song voice replied from somewhere far away, almost pleased:
"Nope~"
By morning, Divide City looked… normal.
Too normal.
The glow had returned to the mushroom forests. The dark trees stood still, vines dormant. The line between the halves was crisp again.
But the Pokémon knew better.
Cyrus saw it the moment he stepped into the atrium.
The Floette from the night before hovered lower, petals dulled, wings twitching restlessly.
The Zorua remained tucked into shadow — but its eyes followed him, wary rather than sharp.
A pair of trainers whispered near the fountain.
"…another one couldn't wake up.""…bad dreams again?""…my Umbreon won't stop shaking."
Cyrus checked his team as they walked.
Gengar stayed close.Ceruledge didn't relax.Tyrunt growled at shadows that didn't move.Meltan hummed erratically, drawn toward nothing in particular.
And the Ursaluna's ball…
Still warm.
But heavier somehow.
Cyrus stepped outside into the plaza, eyes lifting instinctively toward the sky.
No moon.
Not that there should have been one.
But the absence felt intentional.
He exhaled slowly.
"Alright," he murmured. "So how do we explain that? That dream was odd and not many Pokémon can affect dreams."
A quiet giggle echoed — distant, restrained, playful.
"Careful~Big dreams break cities~"
Cyrus didn't respond.
He was already moving.