After offering himself as a hostage to a vengeful Malva, Lysandre comes to understand the depth of Malva's feeling for him...as well as the agony of the punishment she has in store.
L grit his teeth against the growing pressure in his temples. It was the only form of resistance he had left; the shimmering glow that wreathed his body would not permit him to clench the fists held up at the level of his waist or even turn his head. Across the room, he could see the Chandelure staring at him expressionlessly, its beady eyes glowing with the same light that held his own body suspended in the air. It was a curious thing to view a Chandelure from this angle. From L’s current perspective, the glass bulb that comprised the center of Chandelure’s body waved absurdly in the air, like the upward-reaching bud of a glass flower, while the columns of its purple flames poured downward as if from upturned spouts. There was no ceiling in this room of Hyperspace. If he rolled his good eye upward in its socket, he could just barely make out the floor above his head, while below the toes of his twitching feet lay the outspread vault of stars. Looking downward, to the limited extent that he could with his neck locked in place, inflicted a nauseating vertigo; he felt as though he were about to fall into the depths of eternity. And so he kept his gaze straight ahead, at the Pokémon who had been ordered to keep him prisoner.
He couldn’t say how long he had been here in this ridiculous position, but it must have been hours. During that time he had felt a mounting pressure slowly roll down his body to settle in his head and upper chest. Occasionally, he coughed as his throat and lungs convulsed in protest of the growing compression. Chandelure’s psychic power held him suspended in this inverted position, but although it had thankfully kept his clothes from falling over his head, it couldn’t completely block the inescapable pull of gravity. His bodily functions, which normally operated under an assumption of downward pull, now found themselves struggling to climb upward, of which his own suffering was the unfortunate result. He longed to move, to pull himself free of the intangible force that restrained him, but the Ghost Pokémon’s power kept him pinioned, like an insect impaled under a glass case.
He had no concern for his own safety, of course—why would he?—but the hours he had spent alone with only this Pokémon’s pitiless stare for company had left him slightly anxious. How long did she plan to leave him here? Why had she left him here? Was his current state of suffering her goal? If not, then what else could she want with him? He remembered the way her initial look of astonishment had quickly shifted into a thrilled, almost hungry expression when she first saw him after his return to Lumiose. It was the impression that hungry look had left on his mind that drove him to offer his own freedom in exchange for that of the child, Ansha. Seeing the young girl in Talonflame’s grip, he had offered a trade—himself for the girl, not knowing whether his offer would be accepted. And yet he felt no surprise when it was, and Talonflame was ordered to release the child as he approached without fear or regret, only a sense of resignation. Hopefully, Harmony had managed to reach the girl by now.
A sudden sound from the corridor outside pulled his attention away from his ghostly captor and toward the door set into the left wall, beyond which he could hear the echo of clicking heels. He tensed even further, bracing himself for whatever she had in store for him, her hostage.
The door opened, and Malva stepped into the room...
