[ti]private[/ti]EMERGENCE

"In spring of youth it was my lot
To haunt of the wide earth a spot
The which I could not love the less—
So lovely was the loneliness
Of a wild lake, with black rock bound,
And the tall pines that tower’d around."

What a sight it makes, this lone lake. Hidden in the Timberland's depths, surrounded by tall evergreens, and with dark waters over which mist swirls its slow dance of cold mystery. What a sight it makes, this lone lake. A petite woman stands at its very center as if it were frozen, for it is for her. Here she had dived into gelid depths once, but today she kneels, pouring gentle handfuls of water over the precious egg she has with her.

"But when the Night had thrown her pall
Upon that spot, as upon all,
And the mystic wind went by
Murmuring in melody—
Then—ah then I would awake
To the terror of the lone lake."

A shell of beautiful sapphire coursed by marble veins, a crimson geometrical pattern shining and pulsating the Timberland's darkness. Pulsating with life. Pulsating with power. Pulsating with impatience.

The Legion is ready.

"Yet that terror was not fright,
But a tremulous delight—
A feeling not the jewelled mine
Could teach or bribe me to define—
Nor Love—although the Love were thine."

A crack. At first no more than the smallest pip, yet soon extending from the highest point to the lowest. It breaks the sapphire, it breaks the marble veins, and it breaks the geometrical pattern as well. The egg still pulsates with life, and watching it, it's lovingly that the Alchemist smiles. Her eyes that are too of crimson and sapphire fix on the light; that which comes from within the egg, seeping through the cracks and shining brightly in the darkness of this lone lake.

There's pressure in the air, a pressure that may one day cause terror to many, but it never does to her.

"Death was in that poisonous wave,
And in its gulf a fitting grave
For him who thence could solace bring
To his lone imagining—
Whose solitary soul could make
An Eden of that dim lake."

She once would have called this timberland Eden, but that is not true at all. Eden is a place that does not exist even in this imaginary world, but it is perhaps what she makes of it. The Eden where life rises anew.

Is it perhaps a feeling she has been chasing?

Euphoria.

Victory.

When the egg breaks and the newborn Kyogre emerges from within, singing a deep note into the darkness of the lake, Tuesday knows she's one step closer.

Nothing will stop her.

"Hello, Legion."