I reached the corridor leading to the Orientation Hall, my heart hammering a rhythmic, steady beat against my ribs. My suppression was now at absolute zero—I was, for all intents and purposes, a non-entity to the academy's automated scanners.
As I stepped out of the service tunnel and smoothed my uniform, I saw the grand doors of the Orientation Hall ahead. But as I approached, I realized I wasn't as alone as I thought. Standing by the entrance, leaning against the marble pillar with an air of calculated nonchalance, was a figure that hadn't been in the training hall.
It was Cynthia.
The Sinnoh Champion was a portrait of intimidating elegance. Her long, blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face of such striking beauty that it felt like a physical weight in the room. Her black coat emphasized her tall, curvaceous stature, lending her an aura of absolute authority. She wasn't looking at me; she was looking at a small, handheld device that was currently pulsing with a faint, rhythmic violet light—the exact frequency of my AUM signature.
"The sensors in the training hall are quite loud when they break," she said, her voice a low, melodic purr that sent a chill down my spine. She finally looked up, her grey eyes piercing through my 'mask' with terrifying ease. "And you, Aspirant, are very, very quiet."
"A quiet world is a safe world, wouldn't you agree, Champion Cynthia? Though I see your device is making quite a lot of noise."
The air in the corridor was heavy, still vibrating from the aftershocks of the Monolith's near-collapse. My voice sounded steady, despite the adrenaline still singing through my veins. I kept my posture relaxed, mimicking the very nonchalance Cynthia displayed, though every instinct I possessed screamed at me to vanish back into the vents.
Cynthia didn't flinch. Instead, she let out a soft, hummed breath that was almost a laugh. She pushed off the pillar, her movements possessing a predatory grace that made the hallway feel suddenly much smaller. Her black coat billowed slightly, revealing the striking silhouette of a woman who was as much a masterpiece of nature as she was a titan of battle. Her curvaceous form was matched only by the sheer, suffocating weight of her presence—an aura so dense it felt like walking into deep water.
"Safety is a relative term," she replied, her voice smooth as silk but carrying the cold edge of a glacier. She took a slow, measured step toward me, the click of her heel echoing like a gavel. "In my experience, the quietest places are often the ones where the most dangerous things are waiting to scream."
She held up the device. The violet light reflected in her grey eyes, making them shimmer with an ethereal, captivating beauty. Up close, her allure was nearly overwhelming; she possessed an elegance that felt ancient, a blend of scholarly wisdom and the raw, unyielding power of a Champion.
"This 'noise' is a frequency I haven't seen in the Sinnoh archives, nor in the hidden records of the Celestica people," she continued, her gaze dropping to my hands, then back to my face. She was searching for a crack in my composure. "It's a void-signature. AUM power in its rawest, most volatile form. To find it manifested in a mere Aspirant... that is more than just 'noisy.' It's a provocation."
She was now only a few feet away. I could smell the faint, crisp scent of winter air and mountain lilies clinging to her. Her eyes narrowed slightly, a glimmer of intrigue softening the harshness of her scrutiny. "The others—Red, Blue, even the perceptive Serena—they are looking for a culprit. But I? I am looking for an explanation. Why is a ghost walking the halls of my academy?"
The device in her hand began to pulse faster, the violet light turning a deep, bruised purple as it reacted to my proximity. She was testing the seal on my power, her own Spiritomb's presence flickering just beneath the surface of her shadow, ready to strike if I proved to be a threat.
"The Orientation Hall is just behind those doors," she whispered, leaning in slightly. Her proximity was a tactical maneuver, a blend of intimidation and a strange, magnetic charm that was difficult to resist. "You could go inside, blend in with the others, and hope I don't mention this 'glitch' to the Dean. Or, you could tell me what you're really doing here, before the sensors reboot and the peace you're so fond of ends permanently."
I do not back away. Instead, I match her intensity, leaning in until I am just inches from her, invading her personal space with a calm, absolute confidence. I drop the mental barrier of my AUM Power—not to attack, but to let a controlled, resonant "hum" brush against her consciousness. I speak in a low tone, intended only for her: "The Celestica records are incomplete, Cynthia. They speak of the Creation and the Destruction... but they forgot the Preservation. The Silence." I gently reach out—a bold move—and place a finger on the pulsing device in her hand, dampening its violet light with my own nullifying energy. "You aren't looking for a culprit. You're looking for the missing piece of history you've spent your life chasing. I am that piece. Turn me in, and the Dean buries this truth forever. Ally with me, keep my secret... and I will show you what came before the myths.
The air between us didn't just grow cold; it became a vacuum. As I leaned in, the distance between my face and hers narrowed until the world was reduced to the sharp, grey focus of her eyes and the scent of winter lilies. It was a gamble—a move that would have seen any other Aspirant pinned to the floor by her Garchomp's shadow in a heartbeat. But the hum of my AUM power wasn't a threat; it was a resonance, a deep, foundational vibration that seemed to harmonize with the very atoms of the stone walls.
When my finger touched the device, the frantic violet pulsing didn't just fade—it vanished. The silence that followed was absolute, a dead-zone of energy that seemed to swallow the ambient hum of the academy's machinery.
Cynthia's breath hitched, a soft, sharp intake of air that was the only sound in the corridor. For a moment, the Sinnoh Champion was motionless. Her striking silhouette, usually so poised and commanding, seemed to vibrate with the sheer intensity of the proximity. Up close, her captivating beauty was a distraction I had to fight to ignore; the elegant curve of her jaw and the way her long, blonde hair acted as a golden veil between us created a world where only this secret existed. Her curvaceous stature, highlighted by the sharp tailoring of her black coat, lent her an air of monumental authority, yet here, in the "Silence," she looked less like a judge and more like a seeker who had finally found the door she had been looking for.
Her eyes searched mine, not with the coldness of a Champion, but with the burning, intellectual hunger of a historian. The AUM power I let bleed into her consciousness wasn't a memory, but a feeling—the sensation of the world before the first roar of Dialga, the stillness that exists between the stars.
"The Preservation," she whispered, her voice barely a breath against my skin. The arrogance of the Champion had been replaced by a wary, electric intrigue. "The void that holds the elements together. You... you aren't just using an ability. You are an anomaly in the timeline."
She didn't pull away. Instead, she slowly lowered the device, her fingers brushing against mine as she tucked it back into her pocket. Her gaze swept over me, reappraising the "Aspirant" before her. The allure she radiated was no longer just physical; it was the magnetic pull of two powerful forces recognizing a shared, dangerous destiny.
"The Dean would indeed bury you," she said, her voice regaining its melodic, silken strength. "He fears what he cannot categorize. And the 'Silence' is the ultimate unknown." She stepped back just an inch, though the tension remained taut as a wire. "You are bold, to offer an alliance to a woman who has spent her life upholding the order you just shattered. But you are also right. The myths are bleeding, and the academy is blind to the wound."
She looked toward the Orientation Hall doors, where the muffled sounds of the other students—Blue's boasting, Misty's sharp critiques—could be heard.
"Go," she commanded softly, though her eyes remained locked on mine. "Blend in. Be the unremarkable ghost they expect. But know this: if your 'Preservation' turns out to be a harbinger of Destruction, I will be the one to end the silence. For now, your secret is my study."
As she turned to walk away, the striking silhouette of her hourglass figure disappeared into the shadows of the pillar, leaving me with one final, piercing look that promised this was only the beginning of a very dangerous game.