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--"It was banished for its violence. It silently gazed upon the old world from the Distortion World."--
--". . . the creator's unwanted child. . ."--
The nature of things desired balance. For creation left room for its opposite, its hallow. Creation left room for destruction and decay.
Arceus had known that fact like it knew about all. It walked forward knowing that all it touch would change and warp beyond its recognition. Things would grow. Would prosper. Would vanish in a blink of an eye.
It created concepts and those concepts created more. The infinite wheel of eternity, the place Arceus knew well.
But, even if being mighty and all be-knowing, it could not anticipate how lethal destruction would be.
Arceus sat, in a flourishing land. A place unlike any other. It laid on a bed of fresh roots and soft soil, while high above trees of strange bark and fruit grew upside down.
Instead of petrichor or moss and mildew, it smelled sulfur-like sweetness, the scent of tar-burning leather.
It was an odd garden, and an odder world with odder rules, but it was all handcrafted with care.
Arceus had not made this place. Like a bubble rising to the surface, it popped into existence one day alongside the arrival of another.
A sibling, a young one, bright-eyed and still so small.
It watched it frolic in the roots, stumbling over its feet and dragging its wings behind itself. On its head sat a halo, a crown almost resembling Arceus's own arc, its binding golden promise cased around its midsection. Its sibling lacked gold, favoring silver and bronze.
Its tail wagged with joy and contentment, perfectly at home in the bizarreness.
And Arceus smiled the way it only could, its eyes squinting before falling closed, sadness and worry washing over its being.
It didn't mean for any of this to happen. Arceus had tried its very best, yet, even the very creator of all could not grapple with the challenge of guiding a wild child.
'It is innocent. It was not aware.' It tried to reason with the doubts. 'But it does not know how to control its power.' In the wake of creation left the craters for distortion to pool.
It had been worshiped, loved, and devoted, just like its siblings. The celestica people, though small and insignificant, were a sight to behold. Three clans had sprung up, sprouts growing around its idols. Dialga had the diamond, Palkia the pearls, and to the youngest Giratina, was the untarnishable platinum.
Arceus did as they had always done. Left things to be. Time flowed and space expanded, the realms co-existing. It had planned to do the same to the little one, planned was the word.
"Giratina," Arceus called to the little one, and like a pet, it stopped and tilted its head, before leaping and fumbling its way over, a giddy child it was.
"Yes?" Arceus gazed into its eyes, red and dark and endless like its own.
'You cannot let this go on.'
'You cannot let it be.'
'Do what is best for all.'
"Would you like to play a game?" Arceus asked it. Like the sun the little one beamed.
"Rules! What are the rules?!" It asked feverishly, prancing in place, its winging wildly flapping about.
"The rules are simple." The rules were but the reasons were not. Arceus stood up, towering leagues above the little one. "I will go, and you must stay here and be still."
"Y-You have to go?" And its crest wilted, sad not to be by Arceus's side.
"But who will guard your garden against the wurmples and digletts?" Arceus baited and lured the little one into believing. "There must be no intruders here and nothing must leave."
"But-"
"I will return. Do not fret." Arceus told it. "I will return," With its hoof, it patted Giratina's halo, the young one giggling with glee. "And if you are still here, you will win." Arceus hoped. It prayed. It begged. It beamed a fake smile, the naive little one unable to tell the difference. "Alright?"
"Yes! Understood!" And like a proud little statue it stood, wings open, and a smile on its face.
"Good. I will be going now." Arceus turned and walked away, able to feel its way through the threads of this realm and into another. It looked back at the little one, its facade slipping.
It was a young god. Naive and unsure and messy. A child. A child with an unfathomable power that was unlike its siblings. With creation meant destruction, with how grand the universe had become so did its devastation.
Arceus had loved Giratina from the moment it came to be. Had loved the holes it made, and the trees it tore, its heart swelled at the thought of what greatness it would grow into. Larvae soon to fly.
But then the holes became too big. Dialga and Palkia were at war as the center of galaxies gave way, stars collapsing and eating and consuming. Disasters across the lands.
And the love Arceus had was overshadowed by horror. The clan that grew to idol it had been graced by a rare visit. Arceus watched from afar, breath baited, excited to see.
It was young, a toddler, a baby babbling about. It had been assaulted by a non-believer, by someone who meant nothing, and in Dialga and Palkia's eyes mattered even less. But Giratina did not know. It's anger, it's hurt, grew and swelled and overcame it. Its form twisted terribly and the fabric of creation warped and tore.
Giratina woke afterward, cradled by the frightened Arceus, hiding its face from the mayhem the young one caused. The little one knew little about what happened, but what Arceus saw was something it had not taken accounted for. The end of worlds. The end of everything. Sudden spontaneous.
The little one was flawed beyond comprehension. It had no control. No rhyme or reason. It was the very definition of distortion. The very opposite of Arceus.
Arceus stared at Giratina, a tear in its eyes.
Arceus had no method for guiding, it had no lessons to teach, and no words to communicate what it wanted to say. It could not interfere with the flow of things. It was an outsider now, an onlooker, an observer. And right now, it had to let Giratina stand on its own.
'If it leaves, there is nothing you can do.'
'If it stays, there is something for it to learn.'
Arceus hoped. It begged. That Giratina would become docile in its realm. Be contained and content. To never know that it was left behind. It would learn to stay put. To not cause trouble. To guard the garden and leave all of creation alone.
That was the best Arceus could do.
And yet it was not enough.
Dust smelled like petals. The red kind it had seen in the weird world. Where roots were deep below and unseen and bark came from your feet instead of the sky.
It slouched, the fifth time in . . . in time?
'What was time again?' In this realm time and space were not like its siblings. Space broke the rules, going up and down and side to side. Time broke the rules, going backwards and slow and fast and stopping.
But time and space did not stop for decay.
Giratina blinked its eyes, hard to do as its limbs and muscles felt like stone. Its wings were heavy and hanging, trying with all its might to keep up the stance but it had lost the energy.
It missed the grass. And flowers. The smell of fresh bark. It missed a lot of things as it waited.
'Arceus will be back with seeds at its feet. It will bring the weird rain!' It thought. Yet, Giratina sighed, having thought those thoughts many and many times. Over and over and over, repeating like the countless leaves that had fallen and turned to mulch turned to dirt turned to dust.
'Dialga would come by too. It would turn back time here and bring the garden back. It would say sorry for being mean, and all will be well.'
'Palkia would come by too. It would shape the land again, like sand, it would give me mountains instead of islands and say sorry for being so mean.'
'Arceus will take me to find sweet berries again. Find those funny little people that gave us treats. Sit on top of the mountains again full of the cold white.'
It longed to go play. To go back and see them. To forget the game and play a new one. But it had to wait. It did not know how to weave itself through the realms.
'I want to go. I want to go. I want to go.' "Arceus promised." It shoved the doubts aside. Still, it stayed in the ruined garden.
Time. Space. Berries. Flowers. Dirt.
Time. Space. Berries. Flowers. Dirt.
Time. Berries.
Berries.
Dirt.
Giratina repeated the list in its head, numb to the dust and the deathly still air. Numb to the way the rocks had poked at its paws or how their wings sagged and laid, their once golden halo tarnished and caked.
Time. Space.
Giratina's eyes blurred.
It had no need for sleep or food, yet it would relish in a nap under Solgeleo's warmth and Lunala's cool.
It wanted to try to fly through Rayquaza's skies. Swim in kyogre's waters. Watch the bloom of Gourdon's magma and earth.
It wanted to dream with Cressalia's grace, or wake from the taunting shivering dreams of Darkrai.
It wanted to see the earth again. To go. To leave.
It wanted to cry.
Time. Space. Berries. Flowers. Dirt.
At first, Giratina had thought it was dust in its vision. Clouds, specters.
Then it became more.
A steering rip echoed, startling Giratina out of its unconscious staring.
A blinding white light. A tear, a rift in the distorted land.
It thought it was dreaming. But then the rift shrunk. And something tiny walked out.
"By Almighty Sinnoh's grace, I did it." Was a voice unfamiliar and strange?
Giratina did not budge.
"I come seeking truth and knowledge. I've been seeking you!" The stranger out threw its arms, smiling ear to ear.
And slowly, Giratina began to lift from the fog. ". . . I-I?" It croaked, its voice loud and screeching and hoarse. The human shrunk back in startlement, before regaining composure.
"You are Giratina? Are you not?"
Giratina turned its head, popping noises echoed, the sound of trees snapping in half echoing.
"Yes. I. Am."
"I-I-" The human became too stunned to speak, falling into silence under Giratina's gaze. "I should introduce myself!" It bowed, stepping a foot closer to the god. "I am Volo, seeker of legends and history both told and untold!"
The human wore odd clothes, different from the ones the others had worn. ". . ." Giratina stood in silence.
"You appear to be worse for wear, I had imagined a being such as yourself would be more glamouring."
". . ."
"I will keep this short then." Volo sighed. "I am here seeking the almighty Sinnoh." Giratina perked up. It remembered those words.
Those words were the names the funny people called it! The ones that left gifts and dances and fires. If this human knew what that meant, it must be from the same group! It had been so long since Giratina had last heard of them.
"The clan. The clan! Do you know of the platinum clan?!" Like a giddy child, it forgot the rules and moved, rushing forward, its head level, or as close as it could, to the human's body. The feet and tail ached but its curiosity grew and ignored the screaming tendons.
The human fell onto his back, groaning in pain before standing up again, the expression not fading.
"The platinum clan?" Volo repeated the question.
"I have not visited in quite some time! They had told me I had made a mess the last time I had seen them." It felt bad for ruining the fun.
And Volo's look only worsened. It looked down for a moment, unsure of whether or not to ask, but pulled on a silver chain hidden behind his coat. Outstretching the chain, it was weighed down by a metal dewdrop, polished, with not one bit of tarnish on the ornament. "Did they wear these?" He asked.
"Yes! Yes!" Giratina pit-i-patted its feet on the ground, causing gentle tremors in the earth. "How are they?!" It asked, having missed the humans company.
And a sad look had overcome Volo.
"They are gone."
Giratina laughed. "Do not lie! It is funny to lie but it's not nice!" It recalled the words Arceus had told it. Never to lie in the face of others. Giratina thought it was funny to watch the other's faces twist in confusion.
"Most died after . . . after the Great Rage." Giratina's joy was stifled. Volo continued. "It was said that long ago, there were three ruling clans. Those of platinum had worshiped a god of destruction, but when it came time to give offerings, the deity became enraged and rained devastation." Volo recounted the tail. "It then did Almighty Sinnoh banish it to save the land."
"My mess." It gasped. "I did not mean to hurt anyone. Are they okay? What of the others?"
Volo looked aside, clutching the necklace in his hands. "What remained of the clan swore to let the god rot with the fallen. As far as I am aware, I'm the last living descendent besides Cogita."
"No." Giratina leaned away, unable to process the idea.
"The other clans are still around. Time and Space, the people of Hisui only know of those two."
"The statues on the mountain! The villages? What of me is left?" Giratina asked, having had dreamt hopeless about walking those grounds again, peering at the statues and buildings. It kept their heart warmth during the wait.
"Your memory has been left to ruin. I've explored all the sites, most of it defaced or destroyed."
Giratina stepped back.
It was fine. Humans are small and short-lived. It was not the end of the world.
But humans live at least a hundred years. Less even. How many humans had passed already?
Giratina stared at the human, his clothes full of strange colors. He spoke so differently then the other humans.
How long had it been?
Then it recalled the words Volo has spoken. The Great Rage. God of Destruction. Banished.
"Who is the almighty sinnoh you seek?" Giratina asked. And without further question, Volo answered in eagerness.
"Arceus!"
"Your people claim that Arceus, had banished me??" It asked, baffled by the story.
"Sealed away due to its violence." Volo clarified, watching the cogs inside the god's head turn.
He had to be lying, for how could one as kind and as caring as Arceus to have 'banished' Giratina? It had made a mistake, but it would never make it again, never!
"Arceus did not banish me!" Giratina corrected Volo. "We are playing a game. I guard the garden. Arceus will return. I would win." It told him. "I stood here, for years and years, playing, obeying, doing everything right." It did what it was told. "I am distortion, Arceus told me I balanced the scale of things."
Volo looked over at the 'garden', the twisted world dead and barren. "Couldn't you have left?" Volo had not known the god of distortion would be so childish. If it was as powerful as they say it could have easily left.
"I cannot. I would make Arceus mad. And I cannot pass through the threads." It lifted its feet into the air. "My form cannot weave through the passage alone."
Volo scowled, gazing around at the world the god had been forced into. "So you had no way to leave? You've been trapped here, all alone?!" He shouted.
"I was not!" Giratina screeched. "I was not! I was not!" It rambled, stomping its feet. "They would never . . ." It felt tears burn the corner of its eyes.
"Was it the same 'they' that left your ruins and your people to forget you?" Volo felt boiling rage. "You are equal, if not greater than those other idols!" Volo could feel it. This was a power yet to be controlled, underutilized. "Are they your brethren or your enemy?"
"Ⴆҽ ʂιʅҽɳƚ!" Giratina screamed, Volo was forced to cover his ears to shield them from the otherworldly gargle. "They-₮ⱧɆɎ would never!" It cried. "They are my family."
"How hilarious, even the gods have familial fights." Volo chuckled. "Why had no one else shown up beside a lowly human like I?" Volo asked. "Where is Palkia? Where is Dialga? Where is Arceus?"
"They have their duties!" Giratina reasoned. They had always been so busy.
"But what about you? You've been stuck here for an eternity!" Volo pointed out. And the god stared at the withered earth and dwelled on the question.
Giratina had not been out on the world. The weird world where the air smelled crisp. It had not touched the stars in what felt like eons. Not graced through the woodlands or the planets. It had loved being free, being out and about, mingling with the others. It craved those memories again and again, the distant ones that had kept it sane through this hell.
It craved to be as it was. It could not help but be the embodiment of distortion. Arceus adored it, Arceus loved them, didn't it?
"What father or mother would abandon their young to rot in a place like this?" Volo yammered on. "There's no sensible reason, only that it you were never needed, never wanted!" Volo stepped forth, laying a gentle hand on the beast's leg. "I come from a world that is unfair and unpleasant. Everything around me had gone wrong." Volo emphasized. "My own parents are gone. My last living relative does not even bother to call me grandson. I am alone. Just as you are."
Alone. Giratina had been alone for so long. Had been forced to watch the years go by. It did its best to be good, to be like how Arceus wanted it to be. And it mattered for not.
Tears welled in its eyes, thick drops flooding the earth. "I am forgotten." It crumpled, the realization weighing them down and for the first time in a century it had laid down. Volo reached it's head, patting the little one's face.
In his search of finding the creator he had found a wounded child. Forgotten, neglected. Unloved. Volo had found his mirror in divine form. Even the very gods the people worshiped were flawed. It cried as he had, unstoppable tears, dark and murky, as it wailed and whined. Volo let it cry, pressing his hands on it in hopes of providing some comfort.
The world was so unfair.
"I came searching for Arceus," Volo spoke, hoping the beast would hear him. "I came searching in hopes of fixing the wrongs of the world. Have it make everything anew." He sighed. "I wanted revenge on it. For letting things get so bad."
And Giratina opened its eyes, watching the blonde man talk. "Don't you want revenge too?"
Giratina stopped. "I could never."
"But it did this to you." Volo let go of it, turning to the shrinking rift. "I worshipped the very ground almighty sinnoh steps on but the moment I have the opportunity, I would seek out justice." The rift shut closed. Volo gazed back at Giratina, a smirk on his face. "I would do it for your sake too!" He persuaded. "It abandoned you, dare I say, neglected you. Condemned you to perish within this abyss!"
Arceus would never.
"It left you to die with false hope." Arceus promised to return.
"Don't you want to fight back? You were created with a purpose and here you are, unable to do what it is you must!" Shut up.
"Why are Dialga and Palkia not punished the same? They've named you the black sheep." Volo channeled his own dispairs. "You have greatness. Potential. You are a god and yet you act and behave like a human infant! Do you not want to leave this place?!"
"ł ĐØ ₩₳₦₮ ₮Ø ⱠɆ₳VɆ"
"Then spread your wings! Go and show them all that you are not some stone to throw away!" Volo shouted. "If had a fraction of your gift I would tear this world until it was anew!" Volo would give anything to subjugate such a power, but yet this was a chance. He had found an ally in his cause. "I can help you take revenge and return your pain tenfold!"
Giratina felt a clash within itself. A dire, desperate need to rage, to scream, to tear. A whimper, a cry, denial and the wish to listen and be good. To rage or to be obediant.
Arceus was not coming back. Arceus had left them all alone. Had lied. This was never a game meant to be won. It was a trap that Giratina had been too guiliable to walk into.
Volo stepped back, a eerie chill creeping in his skin and bones. He backed away, watching as a bright light began to consume Giratina. In the back of Volo's head he felt a pain, sharp and searing and yet ice cold. He could hear Giratina's voice, screaming and wailing without moving its mouth.
'I am not some child to be neglected.' Giratina thought. 'I am not a puny human to be forgotten about.' It raged. 'I was made to be distortion, to be destruction.' It screeched. 'I am what I am. No cage cannot prevent what I am to become.' The bright light became brighter, hotter, the ground cracked beneath its feet. 'The spear in which to pierce the heavens from down below the darkened earth.'
It screeched, a monsterous gargle that shook the very air. It's wings tore itself apart, the halo that had once glisten split. It screamed as its feet that had kept itself trapped her for so long vanished, the rings that kept its power contained breaking.
Its face split, it vision doubling, no tripling.
It felt familiar, it felt right. To be this form rather than the look alike it had been to Arceus.
It dropped to the floor, tired, but not yet done. Lifting its head, it reeled back to scream, the air surround it tears to shreds, thread splits and strings flying as rifts opened anew.
Volo watched the metamorphise. Watch blood red eyes glaring at the glimpses into the world. The eyes of death looked back at him and smiled.
It leaned down before Volo again, no longer the young one it had thought itself to be. In its eyes were the void, red death and warped. "P̘͎̀͊O̵̷̪̰ͩ͆ͅI̶̴̗̗̦͍ͨͭ̉͢͟N̰̜͉͔ͬ̽͢T̷̫͉̰͕̒́ T̷̫͉̰͕̒́H̶̪͍̒ͥ͑̓E̸̖̪̱͚ͨ̀͜ W̸͈ͯ̾̒̿Ȧ̶̵̗̳Y̵̷̛̤͍̅́̕." It growled.
And Volo gazed up at it in wonder and awe.
And Volo smiled back.