[attr="class","extrasensorytitle"]THE WAR WITHIN

[attr="class","extrasensorychp"]PART 1 - FIGHTER

[attr="class","extrasensorybody"]


“Fire!”

The eruption of the line of cannons firing off into the distance tore through the citadel, the large building shaking with the force of the onslaught it was taking as the forces within sent their retaliation in turn. Soldiers sprinted between communication points, relaying information from the front lines to those within the citadel and up through to the Spire, where a lone woman watched with pale crimson eyes at the chaos unfolding beneath her. Indeed, it seemed as though was happened in the very room she stood in would decide the fate of this fight. Her grip tightened on the lance she carried in her right hand.

Gungnir. The blade of the weapon glowed with an ethereal light as she turned from the window to narrow her gaze at the only other individual in the room with her. He was watching her, teal eyes observing her every move as he lounged on what appeared to be a cloud of pure darkness, his dark cloak concealing much of his form save for his face. The slightest hint of skin showed where his gloves ended, a mere inch showing between one article of clothing and the next. A blade laid point-down next to him, the ruby set into the crossguard seeming to leer at her as she glared at the shadowed figure.

“I assume this onslaught is your doing.”

The male smirked, uncrossing his legs as the dark cloud beneath him dispersed, but yet when his feet touched the ground the light in the room seemed to dim slightly. “You could certainly say that,” he stated, a hint of amusement in his tone as he sauntered around the room, taking note of all that he saw there. “I must say, you’re the first that has lasted this long. It’s almost concerning.”

“Perhaps that is because I’d sooner die than surrender myself to a being who hasn’t the courtesy to even introduce itself.” Morgan’s words were calm, yet carried a deadly air to them. This was her realm, her domain. However powerful this creature thought it was, it was an outsider here, and as such she doubted that it could control this place as well as she could.

“Or perhaps it is due to your remarkable control over your dreamscape,” the man offered, turning around in a flourish. “I suppose you’re right, however. I may as well introduce myself before I send you to an eternal darkness.” He moved leisurely over to the blade, caressing the handle of the weapon before sharply drawing it up out of the ground, the candles in the room flickering once more but staying lit nonetheless. The man hummed slightly to himself, as though he was curious as to why the flames hadn’t gone out. Nonetheless, he turned his gaze on Morgan, giving an exaggerated bow as he introduced himself, teal eyes glowing slightly amidst the encroaching darkness.

“My name is Darkrai, I do believe your people refer to me as the Pitch-Black Pokemon. If it hadn’t already been made clear, I fully intend to take your body as my own, so be a doll and go down quietly.” Morgan had to admit, she hadn’t expected a legendary to handle themself so theatrically, though then again she’d never anticipated having to deal with one attempting to seize her form. Though when she thought about where they were it began to make much more sense. Legend had it Darkrai was the cause of most nightmares, and he’d already made the comment about her dreamscape. She loosened her grip on Gungnir, though not to drop it. She flicked her wrist, runes igniting up her exposed right arm as the lance spun rapidly in the air, stopping only when she grasped the weapon again to spin it around her form. It was, as usual, perfectly balanced. Her left hand caught the tail end of the long handle as she snapped to stance, holding the lance with the tip pointed slightly down in the direction of Darkrai.

“Take my body as your own? Fat chance. You’ll have to do better than some third-grade parlor tricks to so much as dim the light of this realm- and I’ve heard plenty of you growing up.” Then again, who hadn’t? Nonetheless Morgan’s gaze was steady, her voice remaining its calm, even tone as she stared down the legendary. No matter who he was, she wouldn’t allow him to take her down without a fight. She watched as Darkrai’s expression changed, darkening as the teal glow of his eye brightened. Within seconds he was as a shade, enveloped fully in shadows as he himself brandished his blade.

“So be it. I’ll merely have to take you by force, like so many others before you.” Darkrai’s words were confident, and he shot forward in the following moment. Gungnir spun around Morgan’s form, the lance catching the strike as it came up from her right. As to be expected from a Dark-type, it seemed as though Darkrai was unafraid of striking low. His blade bounced off the lance. Once, twice, three times. Again and again, each of his strikes blocked brilliantly as Morgan wielded Gungnir with the skill of a myth. The clang of metal impacting metal rang through the air, throwing the swordsman off balance for just long enough to give the lancer an opening, the pointed tip of her weapon instantly coming around in a thrust towards Darkrai’s chest.

The man’s body dispersed into wisps of shadow, reforming a few feet away as Morgan twirled her lance around her body once more, catching part of the handle in the crook of her left elbow, her right hand held up level with her head as it held the other end of the weapon behind her. She wasn’t even breathing any harder from that exchange. “You’ll have to try far harder than that, Darkrai.” Her words were mocking, her own smirk making itself known as the pale crimson of her eyes grew slightly in intensity. Darkrai’s own gaze was intense, a glare to match Morgan’s confidence as he studied her, looking for any possible weakness in her stance. Cannons sounded off outside, each volley shaking the Spire as they increased in power and frequency.

It was her turn to strike, and she was off the ground swinging in an instant, her added attack range with the lance granting her an upper hand over the dark swordsman as she spun, her lance whipping around through the air towards Darkrai’s side. The clash of metal sounded again as sparks flew, his black blade against the handle of her lance. The advantage of the sword in close quarters was the crossguard, protecting the hands from the blade and preventing enemies from drawing downward to threaten the hands. The lance offered no such protection, and Darkrai seized the chance when they locked weapons, forcing his blade down the length of Gungnir’s shaft toward Morgan’s hands.

There was a cry of pain as Morgan recoiled, blood dripping to the floor as Gungnir fell to the floor. She clutched her bloodied left hand in her right, glaring daggers at Darkrai as the citadel shook with the force of enemy onslaught. The candlelight in the room flickered, the light level in the room fading slightly as Darkrai gained the advantage. Darkness swirled around the Pitch-Black Pokemon like a cloak, and he stepped over Gungnir as he drew closer to Morgan, bringing his blade up over his left shoulder in a readied strike. The light flicked again, dimming even more as Morgan stared up at Darkrai, a curse on her lips. She closed her eyes, the faintest notes of a song emanating in her mind as she found herself relaxing.

The sound of a blade cleaving through air. The candles flickered again, and went out, plunging the room into darkness.

Darkrai’s cruel laughter was all that filled the space. “And like all the others, you fell pitifully. And to think you’d spoken with such bravado.” He clicked his tongue, stepping over the slumped figure that had been Morgan Aegis and staring out the window. The shadows were at the Citadel. Darkrai narrowed his eyes. This realm’s owner had been killed, so why hadn’t the shadows completely overtaken this seat of power? He turned his gaze to the battlefield, watching as scores of defenders fell to the might of his onslaught, and yet for each defender that fell it seemed as though two more rose in his place.

The clack of metal shifting alerted his attention to another in the room, and he spun around to come face to face with the point of Gungnir, the form wielding it cloaked in her own Aura, crimson eyes blazing as a song quickly began to fill the room. The tune steadily rose in volume, the Spire shaking under the force of the sonic waves, though the girl glaring at him seemed unfazed. He narrowed his gaze as her aura took a more discernible shape.

That of an Exploud. Of course. It made sense, in this realm of mystical energies and magicks, that such feats would be possible. But for it to save one from certain death took a great deal of control indeed. There was a loud thump as the bass kicked into the song, and the room erupted into light. Gungnir blazed brightly, and Darkrai recoiled backward, the shadows tearing away from his form. His teal eyes began to blaze all the brighter, catching fire as he fought against the torrent of light. He drove his blade into the ground in a swift move, his own darkness forming a barrier around him that pressed against Morgan’s light. The sheer force of the power pouring out of the two of them would’ve been enough to level a small city in reality. That fact alone was impressive, as was the fact that the two seemed evenly matched. They were both at their strongest, both of them in fierce defiance of the other. The power between them continued to spike upwards, the dreamscape beginning to distort around them. Morgan could not outright banish Darkrai from her being. Not with how much of a mark he’d already left. No, they were already bound together.

“Sit back and watch, and remember what happened today. For the next time I’ll not be so kind as I am now.” Her words were curt as a kiai roared from her form, her light instantly erupting into a white, blinding blaze. Darkrai’s screams echoed throughout the room as the light enveloped him, tearing his physical form in the dreamscape apart. When the light dimmed, the ruby gem of his blade beheld a teal pupil, which stared almost contemplatively at the lancer it rested in front of. Morgan stood slowly, eyeing the blade warily before spinning Gungnir, planting it into the stone besides her.

“So you noticed.”

“It wasn’t hard to.” Their tones were calm, none of their previous fury in their tones any longer. “You are as bound to me as I am to you, now.”

“Until one of us undoubtedly consumes the other.”

And then, at the exact same time, they spoke.

“Your days are numbered.”

“Enjoy your existence while it remains, Morgan Aegis. Don’t think for a moment that I won’t shatter these bonds the moment I am able.”

Morgan turned away from the blade, moving towards the door to the room. It was time she awoke in the real world. She grasped the handle, turning her gaze back to the blade before speaking a single sentence. “And don’t you believe that I will hesitate to consume all that you are as well, Darkrai.”

With those words, she threw the door open, stepping out and shutting it securely behind her, the dreamscape vanishing as Morgan Aegis opened her eyes in the real world.

Morgan groaned, rolling over and looking at the time. 7:32 a.m. She still had time before the meeting, but she’d be damned if she wanted to stare at that damn blade any longer. She threw her legs out of the bed, standing up sharply and moving over to the large window that dominated one side of the room. The Irisia skyline dominated the expansive view, and she smiled softly as she beheld it. A voice spoke in her mind, dark and contemplative.

“Perhaps I may learn something of your life this way.”
“Enjoy it while it lasts, Darkrai. You won’t have this view forever.”

And while the words were directed at the legend trapped within her, she was speaking to herself most of all.