• Welcome to Thousand Roads! You're welcome to view discussions or read our stories without registering, but you'll need an account to join in our events, interact with other members, or post one of your own fics. Why not become a member of our community? We'd love to have you!

    Join now!

Pokémon Communication

Chapter 11

Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
Location
*aurorus noise*
Partner
glalie
Chapter 11 – Bereaved


The space surrounding Solonn was utterly silent and dark, but far from still, anything but empty. A stream of pure power rushed through this lightless, ethereal plane like a river. It brought the most wonderful feeling: an almost inebriatingly sweet familiarity that comforted and revitalized him as it flowed freely all around him.

This was the raw, elemental power of ice, and he reveled in its direct presence and contact. He couldn’t see it, but he recognized it in the surest, most ingrained way. He floated contently within it, free from distracting thoughts as the very essence of his mother element rushed over him.

Subtly, imperceptibly at first, the elemental stream began to pick up speed. The glalie in the midst of it noticed with a delay, regarding it with nothing more than mild curiosity, still wrapped up in his unity with the power of ice. But concern eventually set in, and it grew stronger as the current flowed faster and faster—soon, the stream was rushing by so swiftly that he could barely perceive it.

That concern turned to fear, and then panic, when Solonn couldn’t feel it at all anymore. It was no longer flowing alongside him—it was rushing away.

It was leaving him behind.


No! No, come back! he tried to call out as it hurried to some distant, invisible point far beyond him. But in this place, he had no voice. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. He was helplessly suspended in empty space, the life-sustaining flow of elemental power nowhere to be found.

Panicked, he cried out silently, again and again. How this could be happening? How could his mother element abandon him like this, knowing it would mean his death?

His mind began to splinter in earnest as he made his final, desperate appeals for salvation, pleading voicelessly to the multitude of gods, begging for his life. But moments passed with no response. The severance from his element would not be undone.

He almost didn’t feel it when something finally disturbed the emptiness around him. Just as soon as he’d noticed it, before he could even begin to identify it, a strange, pacifying wave emanated from whatever it was and engulfed his mind completely.


All will be fine, it seemed to say. Do not be concerned.

The suggestion came as gently as could be, but also as irresistibly as possible. Perhaps it was death; perhaps it was salvation; perhaps it was something entirely beyond reckoning. Whatever it was, Solonn obeyed its consoling command without resistance. The glalie slipped away from all further thought and sensation without a care.


* * *​


Vague notions of waking up crept into Solonn’s mind, just out of grasp of his full consciousness. Unhurriedly, he began reconnecting to his senses. With his eyes still closed and his consciousness liable to slip right back into sleep at any moment, he decided and attempted to rise up.

He failed.

Still only barely awake, emerging very slowly from the deepest sleep he’d ever known, Solonn felt something only marginally resembling concern. He could’ve sworn he’d just commanded himself to get up off the floor. He tried once more to ascend…

…And failed again.

As his mind unmuddled even further, a burgeoning panic set in, one that spiked when the notion finally hit him: I can’t get up!

His eyes flew open. A plant hung in a basket directly above him, a number of leafy tendrils spilling over the basket’s rim to dangle toward the floor. Something was distinctly… off about it, and as his gaze shifted away from it, he realized what the problem was: his vision had gone strangely dull, lacking in definition and color. He started blinking rapidly, trying to clear out whatever was making it so hazy.

At the same time, he went back to trying to ascend. His body still wouldn’t respond; it was as if it no longer understood his instructions. The sound of pounding blood filled his ears as his heart began racing. Why can’t I get up? He tried to calm himself enough to make sense of things and was only partially successful. Maybe his body would have an easier time carrying out a simpler task, he considered, and so he gave up on trying to rise for the time being. He’d be glad just to get off his back and sit upright again.

To this, his body actually responded. But as it did so, he was stricken by a very unusual sensation: as his face pitched forward, he felt something cinching together in the vicinity of his abdomen—almost a bending sensation, as if at a waist, which was something he didn’t have.

And yet, he did.

He cried out in disbelief at the sight that met his eyes, a picture that very bluntly told him how his body had bent in a fashion that should’ve been impossible. A pair of long legs ending in five-toed feet stretched out before him. And unless his mind was playing a very cruel trick on him—it had to be, he told himself silently in a repeating loop—those limbs were his.

No… no, this can’t be real… I’m still dreaming; I’ve got to be…
Solonn was almost able to believe that conclusion—almost. Swallowing against a hard knot of dread that had built up in his throat, he stared intently at one of the feet and, hoping and expecting that the effort would fail, he willed it to move.

It moved right on command.

He screamed, flailing as he half-jumped, half-scuttled backward in horrified surprise. The back of his head connected sharply with a corner of the small table behind him. He shouted wordlessly at the pain as it exploded across the inner surface of his skull. There was no doubt about it: the pain was real. Though Solonn dearly wished otherwise, it seemed reality was determined to literally beat the truth into his head. This wasn’t a dream. This was really happening. Somehow, impossibly, he had become human.

He swooned and slumped backwards against the side of the nearby armchair, panting. His heart hammered in animalistic terror, making his chest ache. He almost felt like he could pass out at any moment and would have been all too grateful to do so, but his brain stayed disobligingly conscious and forced him to endure this bizarre new reality. As if possessed of their own will, his eyes just kept staring at the tall, lanky body that was now his own.

This body was more than strange—it was wrong. He should not have this; he should not be this. He should be a glalie, a creature of the element of ice… but that element was no longer there for him. He tried to reach it again, part of him desperately hoping he could somehow return to his true form or at least feel more at home in this one if he succeeded. But no matter how he tried, he could no longer feel his mother element’s embrace in the least.

He moaned involuntarily, not at the throbbing, shooting pain that still lingered in his head but rather at the severance from his beloved element. His anguish swelled in his chest and then welled up behind his eyes until they could hold it in no longer. For the first time in his life, he was crying.

Several minutes after the fact, he finally noticed there was something damp at the back of his head. Shaking, he glanced down at his hands for a moment as they lay limply at his sides. Then, only half-aware of what he was doing, he lifted one of them to the damp spot, recoiling at the warm stickiness he found there amidst the hair. He then brought that hand before his face, and he felt his throat go dry at what he saw. Though his vision had gone even blurrier, he could still make out the blood smeared across the tips of his fingers—red blood that didn’t turn to mist in the air. Human blood for a human body.

Which he should not have.

Solonn closed his eyes and tried to retreat into the corners of his mind, thoroughly overwhelmed. He couldn’t even remotely fathom how this could have happened to him, nor could he even begin to think of what to do under these circumstances.

Sighing, he opened his eyes once more, resigned to the likelihood that he’d be staying awake for a while whether he liked it or not. He turned his head and let it drop listlessly to his left shoulder, faintly regarding a number of long, black strands of hair that fell across his face. Past them, through the corner of his eye, he could make out the table he’d backed into.

A course of action occurred to him as he remembered what sat on that table.

He didn’t know what to do about this situation, but perhaps Jal’tai would. Solonn could think of no one else to turn to. He reached up and pulled the paging device down from the table, turning it over in his hands for a moment as he tried to remember how to operate it. Voice-activated, he soon recalled. You tell it what to do. After another few seconds, he thought he’d remembered exactly what he was supposed to say.

He looked at the large speaker that dominated one side of the strange paging device; seeing no other prominent features on it, he figured this was where he should direct his command. He took a deep breath; then, “Page,” he said, and he felt his throat constrict as soon as the word had escaped it. Presently-stuffy nose notwithstanding, his new voice sounded exactly like his old one. He still sounded like himself—why couldn’t he still be himself in every other way?

There was a small beep, and a tiny, green light turned on next to the speaker. “Please state the recipient’s name and room number,” the device said in the same computerized voice that the transporter outside the suite had used.

“Jal’tai,” Solonn answered hoarsely, “room 44-B.” He dearly hoped he’d remembered that number correctly.

“One moment please…” the device said.

Solonn held his breath as he waited for a response. Thankfully, it seemed he’d gotten the number right; after several seconds: “Yes? Is there something you need?” Jal’tai asked through the speaker.

“Oh yes,” Solonn responded shakily, urgently, “yes, there is.”

“Oh dear…” Jal’tai clearly had no trouble picking up on Solonn’s distress. There was a brief pause; then, “What’s the matter?”

Solonn strongly doubted Jal’tai would believe him. “Can’t explain,” he replied hurriedly. “I just need you here right now. Please hurry.”

Another pause. “Yes… yes, of course. I’ll be right up,” Jal’tai said finally.

“Connection terminated,” the device said. The beep sounded again, and the green light turned off.

Solonn set the paging device down beside him and released a long, weary sigh. All he could do now was wait for Jal’tai to show up—even if he only had seconds to wait, he wasn’t sure how well he could endure it. He was fully aware of how he trembled, his hands shaking like leaves. Tiny yet powerful twitches tugged and pricked at the skin around his eyes and mouth. Vaguely, he wondered if he might lose this body just as soon as he’d gained it; it was threatening to shake itself to pieces.

As the seconds crept by, he stared blankly at one of dragon statues that sat a couple of yards away. It lay on its marble pedestal with its tapered wings outstretched and its taloned forearms crossed in front of it and gazed sightlessly back at Solonn with a look of absolute serenity that he quickly came to envy.

A voice sounded then, startling Solonn and pulling his attention away from the statue. “Solonn? Are you all right in there?” It was Jal’tai. “May I come in now?” the swellow asked him through the wall.

“Please do,” Solonn called back shakily.

“Of course, of course… just give me a moment here…” Jal’tai responded.

A tone sounded shortly thereafter. “Prepare to receive a visitor,” the computerized voice said, calm as ever. Solonn turned toward the wall separating the suite from the hall outside. A second later, a shimmering, pale green field of light appeared above a tile that matched the one outside, then solidified into Jal’tai, who stood there in front of the wall with a concerned look leveled at Solonn. If he was at all shocked or surprised to behold a human where there should’ve been a glalie, he didn’t show it.

Without a word, Jal’tai walked over to where Solonn was half-sitting and half-lying. He stopped in front of the former glalie, ruffled his wings, and folded them tightly against his back.

“It’s all right, Solonn,” Jal’tai said calmly. “I can personally assure you that you’ve nothing to fear from your new form. After all—” He paused briefly to take a breath. “—it was I who designed that very body for you.”

That took a very long moment to fully register. For a moment, Solonn forgot to breathe. He gave the swellow a stupefied stare.

Jal’tai nodded. “It’s true, Solonn.”

The human’s stare went flat. At first, he gave no further response, frozen in the moment. Then he inhaled very slowly, very deeply.

“Why?” he asked, his voice strained. “Why… and how… in the fires of a thousand hells… did you turn me into a human?”

Jal’tai closed his eyes and lowered his head. “Yes,” he said soberly, “you are owed an explanation for all this. It’s imperative that you fully understand the situation. I will address your question of ‘how’ first, since that comes with the shorter answer. To begin to answer that question, however, I must start by being more honest with you with regards to the matter of who—and what—I truly am.”

The swellow suddenly took to the air, hovering in place to Solonn’s right and slightly above him. “Don’t be frightened by what I’m about to show you,” Jal’tai said, his words accompanied by the sound of his steadily beating wings, “for it is my true form. I am and shall still be the same person in spirit that I’ve shown myself to be up to this point.”

Solonn could only stare mutely at him, watching as the air around Jal’tai began to ripple and shimmer, blurring the swellow’s form. Soon, Jal’tai completely lost definition, becoming nothing more than a wavering mass of faint light. Then the light intensified and began to take shape once more. When it faded away a second later, the swellow was gone. In his place was something very different, something blue and pale gray that, while still feathered, was no longer a bird.

Jal’tai was now a dragon.
 
Last edited:
Chapter 12

Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
Location
*aurorus noise*
Partner
glalie
Chapter 12 – Preclusion of Choice


“There,” Jal’tai said. He sounded no different than he had prior to revealing his true form, and he tried to sound soothing, though he failed in that endeavor.

Solonn stared agape at him for seconds on end. He then cast a couple of flitting glances back and forth between the Jal’tai and the nearby statue.

Jal’tai followed one of those glances and then let out a chuckle. “No, no, dear boy,” he said. “That is a latias. I am a latios.”

“What does what you are have to do with… with this?” Solonn demanded with a pained hiss, sweeping his gaze quickly over himself before returning his wild, bewildered stare to the dragon.

“Well, my dear boy, it’s actually quite relevant to what’s been done to you, for it was by the transfigure technique—an ancient art which only survives in practice today among the lati—that you were given this form. A swellow couldn’t have used the transfigure technique; on the chance you might’ve known that, I deemed it necessary to reveal my true form so that you’d believe me when I told you how I transformed you.”

Solonn hadn’t known what swellow were and weren’t capable of, nor did he care to know these things. Jal’tai’s explanation held little meaning for Solonn and fell quite short of a satisfying answer.

Hoping that the other question would yield a better one, “Why, Jal’tai?” Solonn pressed in a brittle voice, the words more exhaled than spoken.

Lowering his head, Jal’tai drew back slightly from Solonn. “Forgive me, Mr. Zgil-Al,” he said soberly. “I sincerely regret not being more straightforward with you from the start. But there was only one way this could be done feasibly, and unfortunately, it required me to keep you largely in the dark up to this point.”

The latios clasped his talons and met Solonn’s gaze steadily despite the way the human’s brown, bloodshot eyes pierced into his own. “The first thing you need to know in order to understand the situation is this: I’m not merely a proud citizen of this great city. I’m also the mayor and director of the Convergence Project, its guide and guardian.”

“Well, good for you,” Solonn croaked acidly. “And what is it about that, exactly, that required you to turn me into this?”

“Patience, my boy,” Jal’tai said evenly, unfazed by Solonn’s venom-laced response, earning a very indignant look from the former glalie. “You must allow me to explain, and not just for your own sake, either.”

The latios paused for a breath, then released it on a sigh before proceeding. “I love my city, Solonn,” he said wistfully. “I love it more than anything else in this world. But the fact remains that I won’t be around to guide it forever. Therefore, someone will need to take my place someday.

“This is where you come in, Solonn. Now, it may not be obvious to the eye of the beholder, but I am getting on in years… Soon, I’ll be retiring from my position as mayor of Convergence, and the city will need someone to take my office when I depart. That someone is required to have a very particular and very rare skill in common with me—it’s rendered a necessity by the very nature of this place. My successor must be able, just as I am, to freely and fluently communicate with pokémon and humans alike. My successor must possess the Speech.”

Solonn’s eyes widened dramatically. Automatically, he began crawling backwards away from Jal’tai, compelled to put a healthy distance between himself and the latios as swiftly as he could. How did he find out? he wondered fearfully. His mind was nearly racing too fast to arrive at any explanation, but the only one he managed to reach was the only one that made any sense to him anyway.

Just as soon he’d thought of it, it was confirmed. “Yes, Solonn. I am a psychic,” Jal’tai said, nodding. “But, no, that’s not how I learned of your gift. Not initially, anyway,” he clarified.

Lowering his talons and turning them palms-outward, trying to appear as non-threatening as he could, Jal’tai began gliding slowly toward Solonn. His wings remained rigid and stationary all the while; a less mundane force powered his flight. Solonn kept backing away from the advancing latios but soon found himself backed into a corner, trapped by a wall to his left, a large, oak dresser to his right, and Jal’tai before him. The latios was now only a foot or so in front of Solonn.

Jal’tai settled himself onto the carpet, folding his forearms in front of his chest, and continued. “I saw you, you see,” the latios said. “The day before last, I saw what happened to you in Lilycove,” he elaborated, with a note of earnest sorrow. “I was out for a nice flight—as I mentioned before, I do make occasional excursions outside Convergence, just for a change of pace. I chose to go eastward instead of southward that day. My course found me flying over Lilycove, and there I caught sight of a most deplorable scene: there was a sign out in front of an old, miserable looking theater, promising a real, live… ‘talking’ pokémon inside…” The latios spat out the word “talking” with as much force and distaste as if it were something he’d been gagging on.

“I saw a small group of humans rush you into the theater through a side entrance,” he went on. “I slipped in after them, cloaked by my psychic abilities. I found you sleeping backstage, and I tapped your mind while you slept— just deep enough to learn if what that sign claimed was true—and thereby confirmed that it was.

“Even if it hadn’t been, I would’ve broken you out of there. The way you were being treated there, as a spectacle… it was sickening…” he hissed, his red eyes narrowing in disgust. “I was about to free you myself, but just then, another human came onto the scene, one in whom I immediately sensed benevolent intentions regarding you. A quick tap of her mind told me she was your friend and had come to rescue you from your would-be exploiters.

“You were awake at this point, but your attempts to escape were foiled by a restraining technique. I went and searched about the vicinity for the caster and thereby found a sableye—a dark-type, able to evade detection by my psychic senses. I dispatched him at once by means of a dragon claw.”

Solonn’s eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. “Morgan told me that she’d taken him out,” he said.

Jal’tai sighed. “I’m afraid both you and Morgan were misled where that’s concerned,” he told Solonn. “You see, your human companion happened to walk in onto the scene where the sableye had been hiding just as I was dealing with him—using dragon claw required me to shift my focus from my psychic element to my dragon element, thus forcing me to give up my invisibility, and so it was that Morgan saw me there. I should explain that my kind are… valued by humans—” There was another charge of revolted emphasis on the word “valued”. “—due to our potent abilities. Though I sensed virtue in this particular human, I was in no position to say the same about the other humans in her life, and I confess that I was unwilling to take a chance on whether or not she’d keep my appearance a secret.

“Therefore, I found it necessary to modify her memory. I quickly rendered myself invisible once more. Then I placed a hammer I found lying nearby into her hand and implanted a memory of her using it to knock out the sableye. I made her forget having seen me.” He briefly closed his eyes and lowered his head as if in shame. “I regret that action now. I should’ve given her the benefit of the doubt. I should’ve recognized just how honorable she truly was. I did come to recognize it, after watching her help to free you, and following her as she guided you to safety outside the city…”

The latios’s face took on a faint, wistful smile. “She, a human, actually chose to let you part from her company rather than let you be exploited again… very noble… very rare. Anyhow… following the events of that evening, I knew you could go nowhere but west, and so I waited in the grass for you and then brought you here.”

“You could have told me all of this at the start,” Solonn admonished him. “And none of that explains why you needed to change me like this.”

“Actually,” Jal’tai said, “within what I’ve just told you lies the precise reason why your transformation was necessary. Those humans in Lilycove wanted to make a spectacle out of you because you were a glalie who could speak their language. For that quality, you were regarded as a freak—a valuable freak, yes, but a freak nonetheless—and you were treated as one.

“Now you are a human who can speak pokémon languages—you’ve been speaking a glalie language this entire time, as a matter of fact,” Jal’tai added. “My point is that humans sought to exploit and degrade you when you were a pokémon. They will not do that to you as a fellow human. The unfortunate truth is that generally speaking, humans only hold any real respect for their own kind. That is why I transformed you.”

“Without my consent!” Solonn shouted, throwing a feral look at Jal’tai.

“Yes, and I apologize!” Jal’tai responded swiftly, actually sounding quite hurt. “But that was only to spare you a very painful and disturbing experience. If the subject knows transfiguration is coming, their brain can’t be made to ignore it. With that in mind, I had a sleep-inducing drug added to your meal at Whitley’s. Once I was certain you’d fallen asleep in here, I entered the suite. Then, using certain of my psychic abilities, I put a sort of… for lack of a better term, a lock upon your brain to separate it from your tactile senses so that you wouldn’t awaken while I changed you.”

“You did it that way,” Solonn countered, “because you knew I’d say ‘no’.”

Jal’tai winced, then took on the most wounded expression Solonn had ever seen. It did nothing whatsoever to bring down the fear and outrage growing clearer by the second in Solonn’s eyes. “Please, my dear boy… please… you must believe me when I say that I never wanted you to suffer. My course of action was for the sake of mercy, and yes, it precluded your choice. For that, I am sorry, Solonn, sorrier than I could ever adequately express. But it had to be done. I need you, Solonn.”

For a moment, Solonn had nothing to say to the latios, silent save for his long, hard, rasping breaths, his shoulders shaking. He merely held an unforgiving gaze straight into the eyes of the creature who’d subjected him to this change and torn him from his mother element, feeling fresh tears making their way down his face as he thought once more of what he’d lost. At length, he closed his eyes and let his head sink to his chest, his hair almost completely veiling his face, and he held that position for a very long moment.

Finally, he lifted his head and opened his eyes, and he turned a cold, penetrating stare toward Jal’tai, his brows drawn tightly together, the already severe lines of his angular face sharpening further. “You’re no different,” Solonn said, his voice threatening to break. “You want to use my abilities to serve your purposes. You want to exploit me, Jal’tai, just like the humans did in Lilycove. You are no different from them.”

The latios pulled his head back as if Solonn had just taken a swing at him. His eyes widened dramatically, then narrowed sharply. “How dare you!” he hissed in outrage. “There is a tremendous difference between myself and those—” In lieu of a word, Jal’tai chose to describe the abductors of Lilycove with a short blast of acrid-smelling, sickly-yellow dragon breath over his shoulder. “I,” he went on, his voice dripping with indignation, “respect you.”

“You respect me?” Solonn said sharply, incredulously. “Is that why you’ve lied to me and subjected me to a physical transformation without my consent? Is that why you’re insulting my intelligence by expecting me to just sit here and swallow everything you say after that?”

“Solonn, please…”

Solonn shook his head. “No, Jal’tai. There is no reason why I should listen to you, not when you’ve been dishonest from the moment we met.” Sudden suspicion flashed across his features. “Answer this, Jal’tai: if running the city required me to be made human, why didn’t the same job require that of you?”

“Because you can’t do this,” the latios said simply, and with another rippling shimmer, the dragon was gone. Sitting there instead was an elderly, goateed human man—Solonn immediately recognized him as the man pictured on the sign at Whitley’s.

“This is what the citizens of Convergence, as well as those with whom I do business outside of town, see when they look at me,” Jal’tai said. “And this—” He suddenly sounded the part of the old man, too, with the human language to match. “—is what they hear. To them, I’m a human by the name of Rolf Whitley. Under this guise, I became a very important, albeit not widely recognized figure in human society. In addition to being the mastermind behind the Convergence Project, Rolf is also a very important senior member of the International Pokémon League. I couldn’t have attained that kind of power and the resources that come along with it using my true identity as a pokémon.”

Jal’tai reassumed his latios form. “Now, under less demanding circumstances, I could simply apply a mirage to you, too. In fact, when we entered Convergence, and when I brought you into this hotel, I presented you just as you now appear. But the method does have its limits, limits that make it impractical as a full-time, twenty-four-seven solution. For one thing, I can’t maintain a mirage from a distance, and not much of a distance, either. You’d have to remain within the sphere of my psychic perception, which in my old age is, I’m afraid, rather small. I think we can both agree that it would be impractical for me to follow you like a shadow everywhere you go, yes?”

Solonn gave him a look that suggested he wasn’t even inclined to agree about the sun being bright and the night being dark.

“Furthermore,” Jal’tai said, “it’s not enough to merely look like a human. You must feel like a human, as well. What if another human wanted to shake your hand? You’d have to be able to offer one they could clasp, one they could feel. Now, while I can produce ‘solid’ mirages, as I use for my own needs in portraying a human, I’m afraid it’s outside the scope of my abilities to project one over you and keep some kind of mirage or cloak over myself at all times. And it would be necessary for me to conceal my true identity somehow if I were to stay close enough to you at all times to maintain your disguise; again, being what I am, I mustn’t let just anyone see me about. Furthermore… I will remind you of the fact that I won’t be around to conceal your identity forever. Therefore, the only feasible way for you to meet those particular demands of this position was for me to transfigure you.”

Jal’tai sighed very heavily, lowering his head slightly and passing a talon backwards over it as if raking it through hair. “Solonn… do you not recognize how important it is to the future of the world that the Convergence Project is kept alive and running? This community must be maintained, for it’s a shining example of the fact that pokémon and humans can and should live and work as absolute equals—that anything humans can do, we can do, too. It’s an example sorely needed by the world. The state of relationships between humans and pokémon desperately needs to be changed. Solonn… did you know that most humans don’t realize—or else deny—that pokémon are intelligent beings?”

Solonn only stared back with wild eyes. His throat worked, but he didn’t answer.

“I didn’t think you were aware of that,” Jal’tai said softly, reading Solonn’s blank silence correctly. “It’s true, though. The majority of humans regard pokémon not as people, but as mere animals.” Disgust rose back up through his voice at those words. “That is why they’ll only respect one of their own kind,” the latios said. “Hence the unfortunate need for our façades.”

Solonn was silent for a moment after Jal’tai had finished speaking, deep in thought. Then, with dawning epiphany in his eyes, “You said you needed me—me, specifically, because I have ‘the Speech’, as you called it. You said the person in charge of this city has to have this ability—it’s necessary because the person running this city has to be able to communicate just as well with both humans and pokémon, because the job requires you to deal with both, do I understand right?”

Jal’tai blinked in surprise, then relaxed, looking equally relieved and impressed. “Yes, that’s correct,” he confirmed.

But to the latios’s surprise, Solonn shook his head. “No, Jal’tai. There was another way. Telepaths, Jal’tai,” he said. “Telepaths can make anyone understand them, including humans. How can you have not even considered this? You’re probably a telepath yourself!”

Jal’tai lowered his head slightly and sighed. “That would certainly be convenient if it were truly a viable option, but unfortunately there are reasons why it can’t be. There’s no shortage of people in this world who are mistrusting, even fearful of psychics and the abilities commonly associated with us, including telepathy. Those insecurities and superstitions make those of any species who’d have to rely on telepathy to communicate unsuitable for the job. Convergence and its mission will not be accepted by as many as we need if its leader is one to whom so many would not listen.”

Even with our measures to respect their privacy in place, many species still don’t trust us.” Sei Salma’s words echoed in Solonn’s memory, and a twinge of guilt struck him. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but sympathize with those who were wary of psychics—the notion of another creature being able to reach and affect his mind was harder for him to abide by when he thought of that latios having trespassed there so recently.

After a moment of scrambling, his mind managed to scrape together another possible argument. “The unown-script, what about that?” he asked. “Both humans and pokémon understand it—and everyone here is made to learn it…”

Jal’tai tried to speak then, but Solonn pressed on, something fierce in his expression. The human was now all too desperately certain that he’d found proof that Jal’tai hadn’t had to do this to him, and that certainty stoked his fury to new heights. “Any human who knows the unown-script could have been your replacement, and there are plenty of those here because knowing unown-script is mandatory here. You didn’t need me. It could have been any of them! You didn’t need me!” he cried.

“Solonn… you must get a hold of yourself,” Jal’tai said, sounding genuinely concerned for Solonn—but there was also the slightest hint of a warning along the edges of his voice. “Calm down, please…”

But Solonn was inconsolable. “You didn’t have to do this to me! You didn’t need me!” he practically shrieked.

Jal’tai let out a long, slow exhalation and met Solonn’s feral stare, looking like a parent who’d finally lost the last shred of patience for their child’s behavior. “I said, calm down,” he said, rising into the air and looking down upon the human with displeasure. There was an ominous gravity to his voice that hadn’t been there before, a far cry from the jovial tone that he’d once used.

Jal’tai raised his talons, then swiftly brought them together and pointed them at Solonn. The latios’s eyes suddenly blazed with a fuchsia light—Solonn’s went massively wide with shock, and he began gasping at the air, unable to breathe.

“I can’t have you losing your mind, Solonn,” Jal’tai said gravely. “Not when you have such a demanding future ahead of you.”

Solonn could only stare back in mortal terror as Jal’tai’s telekinetic onslaught continued, preventing his lungs from filling. His vision was failing, growing dark around the edges and hazing out of focus, and he could feel a smothering oblivion trying to consume his mind.

But before he could succumb to the lack of air, Jal’tai relented. Solonn immediately took a massive, involuntary gulp of air, pain exploding within his chest as his lungs harshly refilled themselves. He slackened, slumping over against the dresser, his head hanging low. After several more sharp, gasping breaths, he weakly raised his head to look up at the latios, his face a sweat-drenched mask of pure, primal terror.

Jal’tai gazed down sorrowfully at the former glalie, shaking his head. “I’m very disappointed in you, my boy,” he said heavily. “I’d thought you would understand the importance of this project. This is about something far greater than you, Solonn. This is about the future of our world, a better future. An equal future. Without our efforts, pokémon will never earn the respect and dignity that we deserve from humanity.”

He set himself back down on the floor in front of Solonn, who automatically shrank further into the corner. The latios sighed in equal parts sorrow and exasperation. “You must accept your destiny, Solonn,” he said quietly. “You must realize you were blessed with the Speech for a higher purpose.”

He laid a talon upon Solonn’s arm to try and console him; Solonn immediately flinched at the contact but didn’t have the strength to resist further. “Please, Solonn. This is a most wonderful and important calling that has chosen you… you should be honored, Solonn. At the very least, you should recognize that losing your head over this isn’t going to make things any different for you, and it’s not going to make things as they were. You must find the serenity to accept this. Please…” he said, squeezing the human’s arm gently, “don’t make me have to pacify you again. I told you that I never wanted you to suffer, and I meant it…”

The latios sighed sorrowfully again and rose back up into the air. “Now, to answer your earlier questions regarding unown-script… it’s true that it’s mandatory for all citizens of this city to learn. However, it is not required learning in the rest of the world. As the mayor, and as part of the Convergence Project, you will frequently have to deal with outsiders, both human and pokémon, with whom you’ll have to be able to speak on their terms. A human who possesses the Speech is the only one who can speak freely to all peoples, to whom all peoples would listen. Hence you are as you are. It’s as simple as that. So you see, I do need you, Solonn.”

Jal’tai cast a glance off to his right, toward the bedroom. “In time, I hope you’ll be able to see things more clearly. Until then, I’m afraid you’ll have to remain in this suite. I will give you the code to exit the room using the transport tile when I feel you’re ready to re-enter society as a human, and I will gladly speak with you more in order to help you prepare for your future duties, but only once I can be sure that you’ve regained your composure enough to listen to me. For now, though, I think you could do with some quiet time alone to relax and contemplate your destiny.”

Jal’tai’s eyes once again took on the fuchsia glow that accompanied his telekinesis, and once again, he applied the psychic force to Solonn. But this time, he merely used his powers to gently lift Solonn from the floor. Panic was written all over the human’s face; he desperately wanted to be released from Jal’tai’s telekinetic hold, but it was just too strong. He couldn’t put up any sort of a struggle against Jal’tai’s power.

The latios guided him through the air, bringing him into the suite’s bedroom, then set him down upon the bed. “Be at peace, my dear boy,” Jal’tai said in a warm, paternal tone. He relinquished the light in his eyes and his hold over Solonn along with it. Then a golden light blossomed around him. A second later, it faded, and Jal’tai was gone.

The human lay there, alone now but finding no comfort in his solitude. Jal’tai was gone for the time being, but in teleporting out, he’d revealed that he could return at any time, without any warning.

Solonn felt another pang of anguish as he lay there thinking upon what he’d become and what he could no longer be. With his identity and element gone, there was no returning to the life he’d once known. Even if he could escape from this suite, this prison, this city and the one to whom it belonged… what then? He couldn’t go back to anyone he once knew, neither Morgan nor his own kind—or what had once been his kind—back in Virc-Dho. None of them would recognize him now, and he couldn’t imagine that they’d believe that he was not as he appeared, that he really was the pokémon they’d once known, just trapped in a human body.

Solonn moaned softly as if in defeat. Trembling, he drew his arms and legs up against his chest and broke into tears once more as he truly realized the impact of this new reality. His life as he had known it was over.
 
Last edited:
Buying Mini 5 USB cable, please god amazon sells one for 5 dollars but it comes with a big amazon logo on it. And uh, you know, it’s supporting amazon who is a bad company.
On that note, would the pokemon world have proprietary software separation like apple with their lightning cable? I mean, I could see something like a Silph-specific (jesus christ I capitalize that but not apple or amazon?) charging cable for a dexnav or a xtransceiver. Sure you could have solar powered stuff and whatnot, but there are power plants everywhere so at least there’s precedent.

Chapter 10 - Unknown : The bastards of the pokemon world

Regardless, last time we left Solonn (who has nothing to do with electricity; bounce some lasers off him and make a disco-glalie-ball), he was lead to one of those secret majority-pokemon cities you find in the center of any given forest. The legend of the Unknown is very kind to them. It’s like an inverse tower of babel; the people lost out because they built the tower and the pokemon got lucky because the humans never asked them to help. Insofar as a societally enforced bilinguality is concerned (wow, bilinguality is a real word?), it sounds kind of suspect, kind of “maoist” esque cultural appreciation. So much for an enlightened population then, lol. In this case though, the implied innate connections of pokemon to the tongue of their ancestors begets a nicer connotation, but leave it to years of the superior species domination to eliminate the need for literacy. It’s the sort of thing theorized about elephants, the “genetic memory”. Albeit, for this sort of thing to stretch to all pokemon gives it the theological angle, at least to me.

Jelly-Tie is the refined sort, as otherwise no one should realistically be caught dead using the word ‘tarry’ or any of its conjugations. It’s essentially a black mark of the social elite, kill Jal’tai, redistribute the wealth. I mean, it makes sense. The only restaurants that have people prominently displayed in their marketing are Big Boy, the Ratatouille chef, and sublimely confident chef-extrordinaires who are nasty (and usually from the countries of the romance languages). They even got the host in a tuxedo. Like, does the hitmonchan have to wear white boxing gloves to complete the set? It’s the classic culture clash, if it’s a majority pokemon civilization, is the capitulation to human culture out of a sort of obligation? Or is this just the enlightened civilization flexing again. Either way, globalization in moderation, it’s still a clothing optional restaurant. Imagine if humans adopted pokemon standards instead. Nudist colony ahoy!

So much for a luxury restaurant, the food came as fast as a Showmars. I could be assuming though, maybe Jelly-ty speaks slowly, or there were really long pauses in the conversation like an arthouse film. Anyway, Solonn gets a steak with tranquilizer in it and is left for the day. Should have been more careful around wealthy, cultured aristocrats with a penchant for grandiose posturing and suspicious generosity.

Chapter 11 - Solonn feels the rain on his skin because no one else can do it for him

You thought it was weird when androids dreamt of electric sheep? Well bam, this loser dreams of ice. Chewing on that ruins your teeth ya know~ But all is not well, Solonn is divorced of the speedforce ostentatiously because he committed the unforgivable sin of eating well-done meat (rare or bust meat eaters, I’ll fight anyone over this).

Lol, the punishment for betraying the creed is becoming an human. No one told me Convergence was actually the ruins of Detroit. The truth come out, Jal-tal is not really a bird, he is a *big-bird*. What kind of reasons could he have for such a diabolical and incredibly inconvenient plan? Not very good ones at any length, you literally gave the poor boy a forehead. Those things are the worst.

Transitional chapters are short, but aint this one a kick in the head. God Jal-tal probably gave him a fucking perm. Should have just made him bald you dragon-ball idiot.

Chapter 12 - How many Glalie does it take to install a SD9 mixing console with 96 input channels, a 96 Hz sampling rate and a 12 x 8 full processing matrix (looking for cheap quotes on this one)

According to most conventional interpretations, latios and red latios are very feathery, they have all the good wing stuff. Personally I’m a weird person that enjoys the eerie completely smooth simplified pokemon design, realism has never appealed to me. This just makes it all the worse though. Well spoken, almost insufferable, -and- a dragon of consequence. Oh well.

The crux of this chapter, juxtaposed with Solonn’s righteous indignation is the preeminent philosophical quandary, wearing a brightly colored tie with a pikachu on it. Jal is almost an archetypal exhibition of the champion of the greater cause, his motivations are endearing, his methods are not. Sure, the lack of consent betrays a lack of foresight that kind of comes with these things, so much for psychic types being smart. Hum, it’s the right idea, but it would seem there’s an unwillingness to make the sort of sacrifices necessary to smooth everything out in the best way. That’s on Jay-Z, kindness and sagaciousness can lose you as much as you gain.

Big vibe in Solonn barely knowing a human form, but having the intuition to assume the fetal position. I guess this is where the outro cues in before a sharp cut to black on the credits. Next time on Solonn’s anatomy: The former Glalie learns to pick his nose!@?!?!?!?!?

All done today. I’ll come back when the rain clears and the sky is filled with the memories of tomorrow. Hopefully it’s not a thursday, I’m pretty busy on those days.
 

Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
Location
*aurorus noise*
Partner
glalie
Raggy: Somehow bouncing lasers off something with giantass eyes and the ability to knock you out with little more than a thought seems ill advised.

Headcanon: glalie are allowed to chew on ice all they like because 1.) glalie continually shed and regrow teeth throughout their lives, a few at a time, and 2.) dentists have exactly zero authority over 600 lb. hellfaced ice demons. (Well, okay, only half of that was an actual headcanon that I actually have. I'll let y'all figure out which.)

That said, remember that Crocodile Dentist game? What if a glalie version.

I think the only reason I decided on feathery birbdragon lati was because of mist ball being described as having something to do with down. Thus, pigeon!Jal'tai. Or chicken Jal'tai, whichever. (I mean, heck, his human disguise is basically bootleg Colonel Sanders, pffff.)

...What if one of those screaming chicken toys, only it's a latios.

Thanks lots for the read 'n' reply! :D
 
Chapter 13

Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
Location
*aurorus noise*
Partner
glalie
Chapter 13 – Small Steps


Solonn lay listlessly on the bed, staring up at the ceiling fan above him as if mesmerized by the whirling of its blades. Through vision blurred by sheer exhaustion and an almost continuous stream of tears, it looked like a shimmering vortex of light and motion, and part of him felt like it could just draw him right in.

Hours had passed since the loss of his identity, his element, and his freedom, but he hadn’t regarded the time as it had crept by and didn’t mark the passing moments now. Physically, he was utterly drained, but his mind was host to too many troubles to allow him any rest. He still ached from the telekinetic punishment he’d suffered at Jal’tai’s hands. His body complained of hunger, of lying in the same position for a considerable while, and of a number of other things. But lost as he was in barely-willing contemplation of his situation, Solonn couldn’t really care about his physical discomfort or even truly notice it. The troubles from within just seemed so petty in comparison to what—and who—now troubled him from the outside.

Jal’tai’s voice finally broke the near-silence, managing to cut through all the other things that were attending Solonn’s mind. “Are you awake? I’d like to come in and have a few moments with you if you don’t mind,” the latios called to Solonn from the hall outside.

Solonn didn’t respond, not even so much as to turn toward the voice, but regarded what the latios had just said with weak derision. Since when do you care what I do or don’t mind?

Prepare to receive a visitor,”
announced the voice of the suite. Jal’tai was using the transport tile, Solonn realized. It seemed strange that Jal’tai would bother with it considering that he could simply teleport in whenever he pleased, with no need to warn his prisoner before entering. Solonn didn’t even glance back toward the adjacent den and the transport tile therein, remaining motionless.

Once inside, Jal’tai drifted silently into the bedroom. He appeared at the edge of Solonn’s vision, and in his true form this time; he no longer bothered with any disguises, any pretense. Solonn shut his eyes, curling up and turning away from the latios. A second later, Jal’tai set himself down on the bed beside him.

“Good morning, Solonn,” he said amiably. “How are you feeling today, my boy?”

Solonn gave no response.

The latios frowned; already this wasn’t going well for him. “I wanted to have a few more words with you about what lies ahead for you,” he said, sounding considerably more reserved than he had moments ago. He moved closer to Solonn, looming over him for a moment before craning his neck downward to look right into the human’s face.

“Listen,” Jal’tai said, something slightly authoritative creeping into his voice. “I know this has been quite an overwhelming experience for you, but you’re going to have to adjust to things as they now are, and preferably before too much longer. There’s much that you’ll have to get used to, but I know you can do it.”

He lowered a talon and gently took hold of Solonn’s face, lifting and turning it toward his own. Solonn didn’t bother to resist the contact, his face expressionless as he finally looked at Jal’tai again through glazed eyes. Somewhere deep inside, a bitter, smoldering hatred arose at the sight of those red eyes, that kindly face, but Solonn didn’t dare let it out despite being sure that it’d be wonderfully cathartic. He knew how dangerous Jal’tai’s displeasure could be and was very mindful of the fact that any voiced dissent on his part might invite that wrath—and the mortal threat that came with it—once again.

“You know,” Jal’tai said, “there are certain positive aspects of your current situation that I don’t think you’ve taken the time to consider. Perhaps they’ve simply failed to cross your mind in the midst of everything that must be buzzing about in there, or perhaps you didn’t even know such benefits existed.”

Jal’tai paused to allow Solonn to ask what he was talking about, but no such question came. Apparently unfazed by Solonn’s continuing silent treatment, he resumed. “I happen to know you have a particular aversion to eating meat,” he said. “I inadvertently learned this about you when I confirmed that you have the Speech. Knowing this, I was sorry to make you partake of the Specialty of the House the night before last, and I apologize again now. But you needed it in order to have the strength to endure your transformation.

“But you needn’t ever eat meat again if you don’t want to. Humans are omnivores, Solonn. They don’t have to feed on the flesh of others. Good news for you, wouldn’t you say?”

The notion of never having to eat meat again might have appealed greatly to Solonn under different circumstances, but he couldn’t see such a luxury being worth what his transfiguration had cost him. Through silence, he rejected Jal’tai’s appeal.

Jal’tai let go of the bright, hopeful look in his eyes at this point, his brow and mouth setting into hard lines. “Well, Solonn,” he began, his tone rather stern now, “if you can’t see the merit in this for yourself, I certainly hope you can at least be glad for what your cooperation will help make possible for others. After all, when it all comes down to it, this isn’t about you, me, or this city, but rather the world, the future.”

Here he let go of Solonn’s face and rose from the bed, hovering in place above the human. Solonn immediately turned away once more, trying to ignore the shadow that hung over him.

“The fact of the matter is that whether or not you think you’re ready to begin your new life, you must begin it nonetheless,” Jal’tai told him firmly. “I told you that I’ll soon need to be replaced as the mayor of this city, and I wasn’t joking around. You have a lot to learn, Solonn, and you must begin doing so as soon as possible.”

Jal’tai left the room, leaving Solonn alone with the swarm of thoughts infesting his mind, including the question of what else the latios might have absorbed from his mind—and the doubt that the absorption had really been accidental. He figured Jal’tai had probably just gone ahead and pulled his mind wide open while he’d slept in that theater, leaving no corner of his brain untouched by his psychic powers, taking advantage of the fact that his subject was completely powerless to stop him.

That was the way Jal’tai liked things to be, Solonn determined without a doubt: the latios preferred to be in total control of any given situation, with those he dealt in no position to contest his will. That was surely the real reason he’d turned Solonn into a creature devoid of elemental power: so that he couldn’t really fight back.

It wasn’t long before Jal’tai returned. Not wanting to look upon him if he could help it, Solonn didn’t even know Jal’tai was in the room with him again until the latios spoke.

“It’s time you started growing accustomed to your humanity, Solonn, but for your sake we’ll begin with small steps. Here,” Jal’tai said gently, then lowered something in front of Solonn.

All Solonn could see was a length of black, folded fabric; his face was half-buried in the comforter underneath him. He couldn’t tell what the offered item actually was.

Jal’tai recognized that Solonn didn’t really have the best view of what he was trying to show him. He unfolded the thing and laid it down directly in front of Solonn’s face. Solonn could now clearly see that he’d just been given a pair of boxer shorts.

“You do know how these go on, do you not?” Jal’tai asked.

Solonn stared at the shorts. He did have a fair understanding of how they were supposed to be worn; the pants that Morgan had worn were fundamentally similar, albeit longer. He was almost too weary to bother with the boxers… but the events of the night before were still fresh in his mind, and the memories of the more painful ones shone especially vibrantly. If he didn’t do what the latios expected of him, he risked being subjected to that psychic punishment again.

Besides which, the boxers would restore some small amount of his dignity. Solonn tried to focus on that point in an effort to convince himself that his next actions were motivated by more than just terror. Without a word, he stirred, shifted, and grabbed the shorts. Rather awkwardly, he sat halfway up, staring at them and turning them over in his hands as he tried to figure out which side was which. Once he was sure he had it right, he put them on, slipping them over both ankles at once and wriggling clumsily the rest of the way into them.

“Hmm… I’m afraid you’ve got those on backwards, my boy,” Jal’tai said, wearing an odd expression that only partially succeeded in concealing a hint of amusement.

With a faint sigh, Solonn took the shorts off and put them back on, correctly this time.

“That’s more like it,” Jal’tai said with a smile and a nod. “Now, wearing clothing, even as little of it as you’re presently wearing, might seem strange at first, but I promise you’ll get used to it quickly enough.”

Solonn thought that was a little odd coming from someone who could just pretend his clothes onto himself. Besides which, he didn’t find the notion of covering up strange at all; as a glalie, he’d kept most of his body covered in ice at nearly all times.

“All right, then,” Jal’tai said with a clap of his talons, his voice having regained its former brightness. “Why don’t we take a little tour of this lovely little place, hmm? You’ll be living in this suite until you’re ready to take my office, so you might as well start making yourself at home here. Also, you’ll need to get an idea of how everything works around here; this suite has everything you’ll need in your day-to-day life, but that does you no good if you don’t know where and how to get it all.

“Up you get, then.” Jal’tai didn’t bother waiting for Solonn to get up of his own volition. Once again, he moved Solonn telekinetically, lifting him off of the bed and onto his feet. He then partially relaxed his psychic hold, keeping the human upright but otherwise allowing him to move freely.

“No need to worry, my boy; I won’t let you fall,” Jal’tai assured him. “Now, I know this is about as different as possible from the levitation you’d been used to, but still, walking on two legs shouldn’t be entirely alien to you. After all, you were born as a biped, were you not?”

That much was true; in fact, it’d been less than three months since Solonn had previously had legs. He’d gotten around by walking for nearly two decades prior to his evolution.

You’ve done it before, Solonn reminded himself in a continuous loop as he stood there, but that mantra fell just short of building any real confidence in his human legs. They were, after all, a far cry from a snorunt’s; they were almost ridiculously long and gangly in comparison, and it was hard to believe they could really support him. He was so mistrustful of them that if it weren’t for Jal’tai’s telekinesis keeping him upright, his lack of faith might’ve made them give out.

But again, Solonn was very mindful of the threat that lay at the end of Jal’tai’s patience. Inhaling deeply, trying to avoid overanalyzing what he was doing, he took one short, unsteady step forward and then another. He stopped for a moment as he finally remembered to exhale the breath he’d taken; even if he wasn’t altogether calm and sure of what he was doing, he wanted to look like he was. With an effort, he lifted his gaze from the carpet to the latios hovering nearby, signaling that he was good to go.

Jal’tai accepted this, nodding slightly with a small smile. “Good, good. Come, then, let me show you around…”

He turned to his left and drifted out of the bedroom, then looked over his shoulder and made a beckoning motion with a single talon. Unenthusiastically, but mindfully compliant all the same, Solonn followed. He tried to move a little quicker and more confidently than he’d been moving, but his faith in those limbs was still somewhat lacking, and it showed. While he was keeping fairly close to Jal’tai (though the latios’s deliberately slow drift was mostly to credit for that), his legs were doing nearly as much wobbling as walking. But Jal’tai kept him steady, telekinetically supporting him through every step.

The latios led him into the den, where there were especially many of those dragon statues. Solonn found himself rather disliking their blithe expressions, the way they smiled as if they approved of what had been done to him. Jal’tai drifted over to the green armchair; smiling, he motioned for the human to come and join. Apparently Jal’tai regarded the chair as noteworthy, though Solonn couldn’t fathom why. He came to stand at Jal’tai’s side, trying not to fidget too conspicuously despite his unease around the latios.

“Have a look at this,” Jal’tai said as he clutched the soft arm of the chair. He pulled up on it slowly to ensure that the human at his side could see what he was doing. The arm opened on an unseen hinge, revealing a previously hidden compartment containing a small, silver device.

“This is the remote control for your entertainment system,” Jal’tai told him. “In case you’ve not seen one of these in use, observe.” He drifted over to a large oak armoire against the wall and opened it, revealing a television, a DVD player, and a CD player surrounded by speakers. Jal’tai then returned to Solonn’s side and pointed the remote at the devices.

“Pay close attention, now,” Jal’tai instructed, and indicated one of the remote’s buttons followed by another. He repeated this action a couple of times, intent on making sure that Solonn memorized the sequence, then pushed the two buttons in succession. The CD player came awake with golden LED numbers, and a split-second later, a light, jazzy tune started playing.

Jal’tai let it play for a few moments, smiling slightly as he listened, his eyes closed. Then he shut the music off, making certain to let Solonn see how he did so.

“If you’re not in the mood for music, you could always enjoy what the television has to offer,” the latios said, then demonstrated how to turn the television on. The screen lit up with an image of a human in a brightly colored suit and tie. The human was standing in front of a brown car, shouting about being crazy and about offering the lowest prices in Hoenn.

“You’ve got three hundred and fifty-one channels to choose from. These arrows here—” He indicated two more buttons. “—will let you cycle up and down through them one at a time, or you can go straight to a channel by inputting its number with the numeral buttons. I’m sure you’ll memorize the good ones quickly enough…” He glanced back at the television, where a different human was pictured offering the secret to shed excess weight around the hips, thighs, and buttocks. Jal’tai regarded the commercial with an odd look before turning back to Solonn.

“I’ll admit, most of those channels are pure rubbish around the clock,” he said, “but there are also a couple of real quality stations—they’re broadcast from right here in Convergence,” he informed Solonn, sounding unmistakably proud. He changed the channel again, and this time pokémon appeared on the screen rather than humans. A ledian sat behind a desk. Beside him, a small image appeared: a medicham in a police uniform, along with two houndoom with badges affixed to collars, leading three smeargle out of a building.

Police have finally apprehended the vandals responsible for defacing storefronts downtown on numerous occasions,” the ledian anchorman reported, while at the bottom of the screen, his words were displayed in unown-script subtitles for the benefit of human viewers. “Whether these individuals were actively trying to claim territory or merely acting toward their own amusement remains unclear, but the CPD has issued a statement saying that whatever their motives might have—”

Jal’tai turned off the television, then put the remote back in its storage compartment. “There’s something else I have to show you with regards to the television, but let’s finish having our look around first, shall we?”

The latios left the den, and Solonn shuffled out after him with one last glance at the now dark and lifeless screen. He wasn’t overly impressed with it; he was already somewhat familiar with television, having watched it with Morgan a few times back when he was still small enough to be kept indoors. Even then, though its ability to reproduce images and sounds even more faithfully than his own memory certainly impressed him, what he’d seen of its programming had fallen short of appealing. Under normal circumstances, the idea of the stations this city boasted, run by pokémon for pokémon, might have intrigued him. But again, these were far from normal circumstances.

Jal’tai then guided him into a walk-in closet. It was fairly long and wide enough to admit Jal’tai’s generous, rigid wingspan, albeit just barely.

“Now, it was never my intent to have you running around in your underwear all the time,” Jal’tai said, with yet another of his chuckles. “Here, I’ve provided you with an exquisite collection of some of the finest clothing money can buy. I’ve spared no expense for you, my boy—why, just look at this here.” He gestured to his right, where a navy blue jacket hung.

Much less interested in it than the latios seemed to be, “Hm,” Solonn said. In truth, he found nothing at all remarkable about the jacket. He was equally unimpressed by the rest of the clothing Jal’tai showed him, but he gave the latios, who was obviously quite proud of these purchases, an occasional, noncommittal noise or vague nod, feigning at least some interest in his new wardrobe.

As there wasn’t room enough in the closet for Jal’tai to turn around, the latios chose to teleport back into the den. He resumed his tour, ushering Solonn into a spacious bathroom, one that had been designed with various species in mind. There were sinks at three different heights and four different kinds of toilets. The shower was quite large, with multiple spigots of varying shapes and sizes; in addition to the standard one that dispensed water, the others offered bathing options such as “mud”, “sand”, and “acid”, according to a large, yellow label affixed just outside the shower compartment. All the fixtures were similarly labeled, with instructions for their use in human- and unown-script. Solonn also noticed small, white labels, apparently handwritten, that designated certain of the fixtures for human use.

There were also mirrors in this room: one over each sink and a tall one that stood alone against the opposite wall. In the third mirror, Solonn saw his new, human face for the first time. The dark eyes that had become his own stared back at him from within the glass, bloodshot and glazed over.

Solonn didn’t notice at first when Jal’tai spoke next, the latios’s words reaching him with a delay through the fog enveloping his mind. “This, Solonn, is where you’ll attend to your hygienic needs… among other needs,” the latios said. “Be sure to read those labels; they’ll show you exactly how to use these things, as well as which among them you should use and which you shouldn’t. Generally speaking, most of this equipment is for the purposes of cleaning and grooming yourself, whereas this—” Jal’tai craned his neck toward the toilets, pointing at the one that was suitable for use by humans. “—well, its purpose is…”

Short moments later, they left the bathroom and went to the other end of the suite, where the kitchen was located. The room itself was quite small, as were the appliances within it: the refrigerator, sink, counter, and electric range were much shorter than their counterparts in kitchens designed solely for human use (though the refrigerator was also rather wider than the typical human-style model, so as not to forsake any of its capacity). Cabinets, drawers, a toaster, a blender, and a microwave oven were also set up at heights that were convenient for smaller species. Yellow instruction labels like those found in the bathroom were present here, too, detailing the use of each of the appliances. There was also a modest dining area adjoined to the kitchen, containing a small, low table and a trio of cushioned, wooden stools.

“Here is where you can get yourself something to eat whenever the need or desire arises, as I would imagine it surely must have by now,” Jal’tai said. “You must be famished, hmm?”

Solonn was hungry indeed, and considerably so; he hadn’t eaten since the evening before last. He’d just been so preoccupied through most of the time since that his hunger, as well as several other physical complaints, had gone largely ignored. Still, for the dragon’s sake, “Hm,” he responded, with yet another minimal nod to indicate his reply was affirmative.

“Mmm-hmm, figured as much,” Jal’tai said. He pulled a bowl down from the cabinets, followed by a box of frosted corn flakes. He set them on the kitchen counter, then fetched a quart-sized carton of milk and a nanab berry. Faintly humming the jazzy tune from earlier, the latios poured a small amount of cereal and milk into the bowl, then diced up the nanab with his claws and tossed that in, too.

Jal’tai brought the bowl of cereal to the table along with a spoon, then fixed a glass of milk, set it down next to the bowl, and beckoned Solonn to come over. The human complied, stopping a couple of feet away from Jal’tai as the latios pulled out a chair for him and pointed at it.

Having seen humans sit down before, Solonn had a sense of what to do. He went over to the chair, trying to allow his body to fold up and conform to it. He did a fairly commendable job of it, though he did drop himself onto the chair a little too hard; he grimaced at the unpleasant shock to his tailbone.

“I certainly hope you like this,” Jal’tai said pleasantly as he hovered beside Solonn. “It’s something I’ve developed something of an addiction to, I’ll confess,” he said with a chuckle. “Plus, it’s something that’s very easy to whip up; I’m sure you can do it yourself anytime now that you’ve seen me do it. Now, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that this is the sort of thing you ought to be living on, but as far as more advanced meal preparation goes… well, no one becomes a master chef in a day, now do they?” He laughed again, then turned an expectant gaze straight into Solonn’s eyes. “Well, have at it, then!” he said cheerfully.

Solonn merely stared into his cereal for a moment. Almost robotically, he began to lower his hand toward the bowl—but a blue, three-clawed talon kept it from plunging into it.

“Whoops!” Jal’tai exclaimed, laughing. “I can’t believe I could be so forgetful… Here.” He showed Solonn the spoon. “Use this; it’s proper human etiquette, not to mention less messy. You just scoop it up like this,” he said, miming the action a couple of times before handing the spoon to Solonn.

Solonn did well enough with it; he only spilled a couple of spoonfuls. The cereal and berries were pleasantly sweet, but his near-apathy toward eating at the moment made it a little difficult to finish his breakfast. But he managed it nonetheless, earning a pleased smile from the dragon who’d been hovering beside him all the while.

“There, now wasn’t that nice?” Jal’tai asked; Solonn gave another vague response. The latios took a small roll of paper towels from the cabinets, cleaned up the spilled cereal, then put the used dishes into the sink. Once he was finished tidying up, he motioned for Solonn to rise and follow him once more, and the human did so without a word.

Once they were back in the den, Jal’tai turned on the television back on, bringing a rather tone-deaf, singing meowth to life on the screen. “You’ll recall that I mentioned having something else to show you over here, correct?” the latios said as he made his way over to the armoire, opening the cabinet under the television and producing a DVD jewel case from it. Solonn gave even less of a response than he’d been giving, but Jal’tai didn’t seem to mind.

The latios looked over his shoulder and saw Solonn just standing there beside the armchair. “Go ahead and have a seat,” he said while carefully prying the disc out of its case with his claws. “Watch me carefully, now,” he said once he saw that Solonn had done as he was told. He turned on the DVD player and popped in the disc, then went to hover at Solonn’s side.

“This is just one out of a series of videos I made for the benefit of my successor in the event that they’d come to me in the form of a pokémon,” Jal’tai said as the video started, bringing up a simple menu in unown-script onto the screen. The menu bore only two options: “Setup” and “Play”. “Now, to begin the video, you simply press these,” he said, showing Solonn which buttons to press. “This will pause it if you need to take a break while viewing; this one will go back and replay certain parts if you need to review them or if you miss something; and this one will stop it when you’re finished watching it. Then just take the disc out and put it back where it belongs—the ‘OPEN’ and ‘POWER’ buttons over there are clearly labeled,” he added, waving toward the armoire.

Meanwhile, the video began. Rather loud, synthesizer-based music started blaring, and “Humanity and You” appeared on the screen in brightly colored letters.

Jal’tai grinned. “I think you’ll enjoy these, Solonn; they really turned out quite nicely. These videos will help you learn the basic habits and skills of living as a human. Once you’ve watched this volume, you can just pop in another one and watch that. Mind you, they are numbered, and you’d do well to watch them in numerical order—some of the later ones might be a bit confusing if you don’t.”

Jal’tai placed the remote in Solonn’s hand, then drifted over to the wall separating the suite from the hall outside. “I’ll check in on you again sometime soon,” he said. “Oops… you’ve missed part of that video on account of my talking, haven’t you?” he added, sounding mildly embarrassed and apologetic. “You might want to back that up, then. Well, anyhow, I’ll be seeing you!” With that, the dragon left, once again skipping the keypad and transport tile and just teleporting out instead.

Solonn stared dully at the television screen, not really absorbing anything going on there and not bothering to restart the video from the beginning as per Jal’tai’s advice. His mind was still on Jal’tai even though the latios had left. Solonn had stashed most of his loathing for Jal’tai deep within his mind while in his presence, silently detached from it through a sort of numb resignation born of self-preservation. But now, with the latios no longer shadowing him, all of the offense, hatred, and bitter indignation that Jal’tai inspired within him came to the forefront once again.

Solonn very briefly let his attention light upon the video. He shut the doors of his mind to it again almost immediately. The program was the handiwork of that latios, just another element of his scheme—Solonn couldn’t help but dislike it. He paid the video no further mind even as it concluded, returned to the menu screen, and began playing its loud theme music on a continuous loop.
 
Last edited:
Chapter 14

Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
Location
*aurorus noise*
Partner
glalie
Chapter 14 – Anywhere but Here


During Jal’tai’s next visit two days later, Solonn looked at whatever he was shown, did whatever he was told to do, and managed to show no outward signs of resentment or indignation. As soon as the latios left, however, that veneer fell away, leaving behind a bitter, despondent man who mainly just languished through the hours, lacking the spirit to look after himself beyond the bare minimum needed to stay alive. He barely slept, didn’t bathe or groom himself in any way, and didn’t bother watching any more of the latios’s training videos. He ate only when Jal’tai was actually present to make sure that he did.

The self-neglect was beginning to take its toll on Solonn—which didn’t go unnoticed by the latios, as Solonn learned the very next evening on Jal’tai’s third visit.

Jal’tai materialized in the room, and Solonn met his gaze at once from the green armchair. From the moment the dragon appeared, Solonn knew this visit wouldn’t be like the others. The friendly, jovial air the latios had worn before was gone; his face was a hard-lined mask, the expression unreadable.

Lowering his head slightly and folding his arms in front of his chest, Jal’tai brought himself to hover right in front of Solonn. His feathered brows drew together almost as if he were wincing in pain. He held the human’s dark, flat stare for a long moment, then shook his head pityingly.

“Look at you…” the latios said quietly. He moved even closer to Solonn, his gaze burning upon the former glalie’s unshaven face from only a few inches away now. “Solonn,” he said, his tone heavy, “I know you’ve been neglecting yourself and your lessons. This won’t do, my boy. This won’t do at all.”

Though Solonn’s slackened features showed no sign of it, a spark of fear stirred and began swiftly growing deep inside him. Something not quite conscious. Something primal. Jal’tai knew he wasn’t getting what he wanted from his would-be successor, and Solonn feared that he was about to suffer for disappointing the latios—and perhaps this time Jal’tai would just give up on getting what he wanted from Solonn and decide to cut his losses. In silent terror, Solonn awaited the fuchsia blaze in Jal’tai’s eyes and the agony that would follow… but no such things came.

“I told you emphatically that you must find it in yourself to make peace with this life,” Jal’tai said soberly, “for it is something you cannot change. I told you this for a very good reason, Solonn: you can’t live a life that you don’t accept. If you keep on like this, you’ll waste away… I cannot allow that, Solonn. There’s too much at stake. I will not see the future of my city, my mission, simply fade out like this.”

He ascended higher into the air, nearly scraping the ceiling with his wingtips. From this height, he looked all the more imposing; Solonn was all too sure that this would be the end. But still the latios made no move to harm him.

“For the sake of your destiny, as well as that of Convergence and the most noble cause for which it stands, serenity will be instilled in you,” Jal’tai told Solonn firmly. “Fortunately, I’ve come across someone who should be of a tremendous benefit to that end. Her name is Neleng, and you’ll be having your first session with her tonight. She ought to be arriving in less than an hour.

“I dearly hope to see you improve, Solonn. There’s no need for you to make things harder for yourself than you already have.” With those words, Jal’tai left in his usual fashion, vanishing in a burst of golden light.

Solonn’s eyes lingered upon the empty space where Jal’tai had just been, resenting the latios’s ability to simply leave this place in a flash—he wished he could do the same. The way Jal’tai kept flaunting that ability only served to rub Solonn’s nose into the fact that he was stuck here. Solonn wondered if that was part of why Jal’tai always chose to teleport out.

As the minutes passed, Solonn just sat there, doing nothing. He wasn’t really anticipating Neleng’s arrival; he’d been too preoccupied with the fear that he was about to be punished or even killed to pay much attention to what Jal’tai had actually said during his visit.

At length, the computerized voice of the suite announced an incoming arrival. Solonn, expecting it would just be Jal’tai again, was faintly surprised to find someone and something very different there at the transport tile instead: a chimecho. He was a bit confused by the sight until he remembered Jal’tai’s mention of a visitor. It was someone with an “N”-name, as far as he recalled; he couldn’t remember the rest.

The chimecho made her way into the den at once, her tail trailing from beneath her as she drifted through the air. She stopped before Solonn and smiled.

“Good evening,” she greeted him in an airy voice. “My name is Neleng, and I’m here to help clear your mind. Are you ready to begin?”

Solonn didn’t respond, staring at the chimecho with uncertainty. How could he be ready when he didn’t really know what this creature had in store for him?

But Neleng was prepared to proceed regardless of his answer or lack thereof. She beamed at him as brightly as if he’d just agreed with the utmost enthusiasm to whatever she was about to do. “Very well, then,” she said. She rose until the golden suction disc on the top of her head met the ceiling and took hold of it, clinging tightly yet effortlessly.

The chimecho gave a few gentle ripples of her tail as she hung there, smiling serenely down upon Solonn. “Just relax… Float away on a breeze of music…” she said. She began swaying there where she hung, very slowly, very gracefully, and then she began to sing.

She began with only a single voice, but it gradually unfolded into a chorus of many, one voice at a time. Harmonies and countermelodies gracefully intertwined, weaving in and out amongst one another, merging, diverging, and reuniting in cycles.

The music surrounded Solonn, absorbing his thoughts as it seemed to swirl around him. Under the song’s spell, everything else within the scope of his consciousness was washed away. Soon, his world was comprised solely of the swirling currents of melody. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered.

He didn’t notice at first when the song finally ended, some twenty minutes later. Once he did, he looked about somewhat dazedly for the source of the music, briefly unable to remember where it had come from. Then the last of the psychic residue that the chimecho’s song had left within his mind cleared… and the swarming miseries that had plagued his mind during the past few days faded with it.

Not that he’d been entirely purged of them; hints of anguish and bitterness lingered, and would continue to do so as long as he remained imprisoned within this body and this suite. But Neleng’s song had tamed those thoughts and feelings, to a degree. They were now organized, in a sense, not perfectly but well enough that they no longer smothered him with their weight.

Solonn looked up at Neleng, who was still hanging there and swaying slightly. She appeared to be slowly emerging from a trance. She did something to me, Solonn reckoned, something psychic… Exactly what she’d done, he couldn’t be sure. He just hoped it hadn’t been anything harmful. It was, after all, Jal’tai who’d sent her.

The chimecho finally went still, sighing softly as her eyes slowly opened. She detached herself from the ceiling, smiling as she descended once more.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow,” she said. “Drift free until then…”

Neleng floated away, and Solonn’s gaze followed her as she went back to the wall between the suite and the hall outside. She brought the end of her tail up to reach the keypad there, folding its prehensile tip and using it to quickly input a sequence of numbers. The tile below her lit up, and she lowered herself onto it without delay. The lens scanned her, and a second later, she was gone in a green flash.

Solonn stared with a twinge of envy at the now lightless tile. Jal’tai had shared the codes with Neleng. He likely had no intentions of sharing them with Solonn anytime soon, or possibly ever. They were only for Jal’tai and those who gladly served him.

What did Jal’tai need with a transporter anyway? If he really wanted to make Solonn feel like he had nowhere else to go, no other choice to make, he could have just left those walls entirely blank. He could have brought in other teleporters to tend to his would-be successor. There was no need for a visible way out at all.

Yet Jal’tai had insisted on installing the transporter—and insisted on using it to get in every time. Why? Why not just teleport in? Teleporting out made sense, Solonn conceded, and not just because Jal’tai made him feel all the more helpless in doing so. It was quicker, it was more convenient, and…

And it kept anyone from seeing which numbers unlocked the tile. But Neleng… she didn’t have that option. She might have pressed those keys as fast as she could, but…

All of a sudden, the way from here seemed almost ridiculously clear. Neleng held the means for him to escape—he just needed to watch her closely whenever she used that transporter. If he could just see what she was doing—an almost painful thrill seized his heart—if he just could memorize the code…

The hope began to fade almost as soon as it had arrived. There remained the matter of what he’d do after he got out. Since he was no longer a glalie and had no way to prove he ever was one, returning to Virc-Dho didn’t seem like an option.

The only other familiar place he had to go was Lilycove… and it occurred to him that if Morgan had been successfully reunited with her other pokémon—or at least one of the psychics among them—one of them could psychically confirm that he was indeed what he claimed to be. If so… at least he could make a new home among some of his friends, even if he could never go back to his original home.

Then something else occurred to him, and it sent a chill straight into his heart. After he made his escape, Jal’tai would be sure to try and find him—and since Solonn had specifically mentioned fleeing from Lilycove, that was one of the places Jal’tai was sure to look.

It was all too easy to picture Jal’tai in the Yorkes’ house, with both Morgan and Eliza lying unconscious before him as he scoured their minds for information that might lead him to Solonn. The thought of them having their minds violated in such a manner was disgusting, and the thought of what might happen if any of Morgan’s other pokémon were there to try and stop Jal’tai sickened him even further. Even if they all fought as a team, there was no guarantee that they could stand against the latios. And resisting him could cost them their lives.

He sighed heavily; it seemed Lilycove was out of the question, too, leaving him to wonder just where he could go.

Anywhere but here will do, Solonn decided finally, resolutely, anywhere he isn’t. Maybe Solonn couldn’t reclaim the life he’d once known. Maybe he’d never see any of his friends and family again. But he at least he could make his life his own again, taking it out of Jal’tai’s talons. He didn’t know what sort of future could possibly lie ahead of him now, but at least now there was a chance that it could be his future, his choice.

With a deep breath, Solonn rose from the chair, shakily but determinedly. He leveled a hard stare at the wall and the keypad separating him from his freedom. Soon, he told himself silently, he would surpass that barrier. Soon, he would take back his life.

* * *​

From the moment he’d come up with his escape plan, Solonn carried on in a very different manner than he’d done in the days prior. He knew and accepted now that he’d have to prepare himself for the life he’d have to forge once he was free—a human life.

So it was that not long after Neleng had left him, he’d sat down and watched one of Jal’tai’s training videos. Though not exactly keen on watching something that Jal’tai had made, he’d determined that he’d just have to bite back his resentment where this was concerned. The videos provided valuable information and demonstrations that he’d need in his new life, and so he’d vowed to watch as many of them as he could before he made a break for it.

He’d also regained the will to take care of himself again, fueled by the hope of impending freedom. He tried to get at least a couple of hours of sleep each night and bothered to feed himself whenever he hungered, knowing that he’d need his strength for his upcoming escape. He’d learned how to prepare a small variety of meals, but still wasn’t quite brave enough to try making anything that required actual cooking—it wouldn’t do for him to burn more food than he ate.

The videos illustrated the importance of good hygiene and dressing well in human society, and Solonn took heed of those lessons. Though his first attempt at a bath resulted in minor scalding, and his first attempt at shaving left his face bleeding in no fewer than six places, he generally did a decent job of keeping himself tidy. He also began fully dressing himself rather than just lounging about in his underwear, knowing from both the videos and his time with the Yorkes that humans generally kept most of themselves covered at all times.

During his visits over the course of these days, Jal’tai noticed the improvements in Solonn’s well-being. As a result, the latios’s demeanor was even livelier than ever, devoid of that stern displeasure—it seemed his would-be successor was finally accepting and growing into the role that had been chosen for him.

Though Solonn’s temperament was definitely improving, Jal’tai still sent Neleng over each night to perform her mindsong therapy. Solonn reckoned that the latios had decided those sessions might as well continue since they seemed to be doing some good. Indeed they were, but not solely in the way the latios had intended. Neleng’s sessions helped keep Solonn’s mind clear, which in turn allowed him to stay focused and determined to achieve his goal of escape.

The chimecho was fulfilling her other role in Solonn’s endeavor nicely, as well. After turning that armchair ever so slightly toward the transporter, he’d been able to watch Neleng punch in the code out of the corner of his eye with relative ease. After the eighth session, eleven days after the morning when he’d first awakened as a human, Solonn was sure that he’d successfully memorized the sequence. He was ready to make his move.

Jal’tai had visited earlier that day, and Neleng had just left an hour or so ago, so Solonn wasn’t expecting either of them anywhere near the suite again anytime soon. If ever there was an optimal time to make a break for it, this was it.

He stood there before the keypad, his breathing shallow as his chest tightened. He raised a trembling, sweating hand to the keys, and one by one, his shaking index finger found each of the code’s eight digits: Seven… three… four… nine… zero… four… six… two…

The next second felt like it would never end. Then that second passed, and to Solonn’s immeasurable relief, the tile below his feet took on that familiar, green glow and the lens scanned him.

The tile gave a bright flash. He felt a tingling sensation over the surface of his skin, and then something rushed him through a brief nonexistence. When he rematerialized, he was on the other side of the wall.

He took in the sight of the hallway stretching to either side, and a giddy sort of disbelief spread through him. A beat later, he dared to believe what the sight before him signified: he had done it. He was out, and now he could finally make his bid for freedom.

In reverse, he replayed the memories of the last time he’d been out here, trying to remember how to get to the exit. It was hard to extract much detail from them; he’d been drugged the last time he’d been outside the suite, which had hampered his perception to no small degree.

Luckily, Jal’tai’s videos had included a segment on operating elevators. Solonn doubted he’d have remembered how to do so otherwise. Before long, he found the elevator for that floor and quickly pushed the button to call it up. When the doors finally opened, he hurried through them without a second’s hesitation.

Solonn chose the lowermost floor, and a breath later, a funny little plummeting sensation in his stomach signified the elevator’s descent. Soon after, it came to a stop and its doors slid open, revealing a view of the spacious lobby—and the exit beyond.

The lobby was relatively quiet at the moment, with no one there except for the swampert receptionist and a solitary primeape off in the corner, the latter half-watching cartoons on a wall-mounted TV. Solonn tried to hide his nervousness as he passed them, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself. As far as those two needed to be concerned, he was just a human being like any other, with no reason why he shouldn’t be in that lobby or heading out those doors.

Without a word, he crossed the room to the exit. Those last doors separating him from the way out of Convergence slid silently out of his way, and he stepped out into a starless, overcast night.

He cast one last look behind him at the towering Convergence Inn, the place where his identity and element had been lost, the place that had been his prison for nearly two weeks. He averted his gaze once more almost immediately, walking away from it at a brisk pace. He never wanted to see that place again.

Solonn had no choice but to stop at the next corner, where cars sped up and down the street in his way. He shivered as he stood there; the silk shirt and simple slacks he’d chosen to wear that day offered little protection against the chilly, late-September wind. Not terribly far away, he managed to identify the dark line of trees that represented the border between Convergence and its surrounding woods—that was his goal. The cars were currently barring his path… but seconds later, the way was clear once more. He took advantage of this at once, crossing the street before the traffic could pick up again.

His eyes locked onto the boundary beyond which the world didn’t belong to Jal’tai—the sooner he reached it, the better. He wanted to make a dash for the trees, but even now, he still wasn’t entirely used to his new legs. He was still wary of running on them.

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of doubt. If you can walk, you can run, he told himself. Don’t think about it; just do it! Hesitating no longer, he broke into a run with a somewhat awkward start, stumbling over the first step and nearly overcorrecting afterward.

Once Solonn managed to stabilize himself, he silently told himself to keep running until he reached that forest. But he was unused to running for any great distance in any body, and exhaustion came on quite swiftly. Nonetheless, he ignored his body’s demands for rest, his sights and determination fixed upon his goal. He only stopped when another red light and another wave of rushing cars blocked his path.

Solonn gritted his teeth in pain as he waited anxiously for a break in the traffic, the cold, sharp wind tearing through his throat with each harsh, gasping breath. The forest wasn’t much further before him now than the Convergence Inn was behind him; the closer he got to it, the more impatient to reach it he became.

Finally, the path before him was clear and safe again. He hadn’t even finished catching his breath from the last dash, but with such a short way left to go before he could put this city and the latios it belonged to behind him for good, he just couldn’t wait to close that final distance.

Amber sparkles of light streaked past him: rays from the streetlights, distorted by the tears that the stinging wind and a number of other things brought to his eyes as he ran. Shooting pains stabbed into his ribs, and there was a burning ache in his stomach and legs. Still, he tried to keep running, desperate to escape Convergence no matter how it hurt. As far as he was concerned at this point, living free was worth any suffering.

Very nearly at the verge of collapsing, with his steps faltering and his heart hammering so violently that he thought it might explode at any second, Solonn reached Convergence’s limit at last. He was seconds from crossing the boundary—

—And then blazing jets of fire shot forth from either side with a loud fwooossssh and surged up before him. With an almost voiceless cry of alarm and surprise, he backpedaled at once from the burning line of flames in his path, stumbling and falling backwards in his haste. He tried to get back to his feet but failed. Realizing his legs wouldn’t support him again anytime soon after what he’d just forced them to do, he instead started scrabbling backward to escape from the fire, only to be stopped very soon after when he bumped into something.

Throwing a fearful glance over his shoulder, Solonn saw two houndoom, the golden badges affixed to their collars glinting in the light from the flames. Their jaws dripped with glowing embers as they stared him down, and both of them growled ominously.

“Hold it right there,” one of them snarled. “You’re not going anywhere.”

As if to emphasize the point, the blazing line suddenly advanced at either side, forming a burning circle around Solonn and the two houndoom. The flames roared as they danced on all sides, but they didn’t touch him, as if something were holding them at bay.

That something—that someone—seemed to drop right out of the air in front of Solonn in the next moment, landing without a sound. A medicham in a police uniform now stood before him—Solonn had been so focused on the path directly before him that he’d failed to see her perched in the trees up ahead.

Her eyes glowed bright fuchsia; she was using her psychic powers to manipulate the two houndoom’s flames and keep them in check. But Solonn feared that it meant she was about to subject him to the same kind of telekinetic punishment Jal’tai had used. As it was, he couldn’t move at all now, and he was sure his exhaustion wasn’t solely to blame.

The circle of flames simply and abruptly vanished, and the medicham stepped forward. She took hold of Solonn’s arms, and using a combination of her telekinesis and her own physical strength, she brought him back to his feet. Solonn wanted to struggle but found, to no real surprise on his part, that he still couldn’t move of his own accord.

The houndoom stepped aside as the medicham moved to stand behind Solonn. Once there, she took both of his wrists in her hands, gripping them tightly.“Start walking,” she commanded him, her voice soft but her tone unmistakably serious.

Tentatively, not quite daring to believe that the medicham could have loosened her psychic hold on him enough to let him walk, Solonn tried to take a step forward and succeeded. He tried to pull himself out of the medicham’s grasp, but it was much too strong for him to break, especially given how very little strength his dash from the Convergence Inn had left him. Resigned to the fact that there was nothing he could do to resist her, Solonn allowed the medicham to drive him onward, dreading whatever lay at their destination as he walked.

The cops brought him back into town, the medicham telekinetically keeping her captive from collapsing outright. The houndoom nipped at his feet whenever he faltered too much in his steps, their fangs only missing him by a hair. At length, they arrived at a very tall, brick building downtown. A brass sign hung over its entrance, lit from below by bright lights; “CONVERGENCE TOWER”, it read.

The houndoom pushed the doors open, and the medicham shoved Solonn into the building, still holding on to him tightly. She steered him into an elevator, which made a long ascent before letting him and the cops out into a short hallway with massive, wooden doors at its end.

The doors filled Solonn’s vision as his captors came to a stop before them. A speaker mounted in the wall to his left came on with a brief crackle of static, and then the last voice in the world that Solonn wanted to hear at that moment spoke through it.

“Bring him in,” Jal’tai said. The cops responded to the order at once. The two houndoom pushed their way through the doors and held them open as the medicham brought Solonn into the room beyond.

Solonn now stood in an enormous, richly furnished office. Seated before him at a very large and tidy desk was none other than Jal’tai, currently in the guise of Rolf Whitley. He leveled a stare at Solonn that was forbiddingly stern but unmistakably saddened at the same time.

“That’ll do, madam, gentlemen,” Jal’tai said without inflection to the medicham and houndoom, dismissing them. The three cops nodded, and the medicham released both of her holds on Solonn before walking out of the office. The two houndoom followed her away, and the doors swung shut behind them.

Solonn, still drained of most of his strength and no longer supported physically or psychically by the medicham, had dropped to his hands and knees almost immediately after she’d let go of him. He’d remained in that position since, his head hanging toward the hardwood floor. A winged shadow fell over him as soon as the cops were gone, and a second later, a talon descended upon his head, lifting his face.

No longer wearing his human mirage, Jal’tai stared right into Solonn’s eyes with a look of distinct sorrow. “I’m very disappointed in you, my boy,” he said gravely. “I told you not to make things harder for yourself than they had to be, but you just wouldn’t listen…”

The latios sighed heavily, and his eyes began shimmering with tears. “I never wanted it to come to this,” he said, his voice quavering as if threatening to break, “but you’ve left me no choice. I’m afraid that I must now take drastic measures to ensure your cooperation and the preservation of this city’s noble mission…”
 
Last edited:
Chapter 15

Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
Location
*aurorus noise*
Partner
glalie
Chapter 15 – Deceiving Yesterday


Taloned arms lowered, embracing Solonn and lifting him up off the floor. Grave, red eyes held his gaze. Solonn immediately wanted Jal’tai to let him go, but he simply lacked the strength to do anything more than shudder in the latios’s arms. Part of him wanted to scream, but he didn’t have that in him, either. All he could manage was a continuous stream of nearly voiceless protests, wordless save for an occasionally discernible “no”.

Jal’tai held him there against his chest for a long moment, drawing a deep breath as his somber stare continued to weigh upon Solonn’s face. He could hardly stand the way Solonn was looking back at him. Hopelessness and terror were etched into every line of the human’s face, an expression befitting cornered prey.

It didn’t have to be like this, the latios lamented silently. Everything could have been so much easier, but you just wouldn’t let yourself see the way… and now…

Jal’tai sighed, resigned with no small measure of regret to the course of action he was about to take. He envisioned himself and Solonn in another location, a place that lay hidden below that very tower, and focused his mind sharply on that image. Then he cast out a tendril of his psychic power and projected it into that destination. A fraction of a second later, the psychic force reeled them in, and with a burst of golden light, the two of them teleported out of the office.

An instant later, that light drained from Solonn’s vision, revealing his new surroundings. The room he and Jal’tai now occupied was just large enough to allow the rigid-winged latios to move about comfortably. It was dimly lit by a single lamp mounted overhead, which cast a soft, rose-colored glow over the room.

Solonn saw little more of this place than what could be viewed over Jal’tai’s shoulder, and most of what he could see was dominated by a large marble panel, on which an image of a latias stood out in relief. She was hovering in place, her arms outstretched, with a benevolent smile curving across her face. Her feathers were accented with inlaid gold, making her shine in the warm, gentle lighting.

Below the panel sat several elaborately carved, earthen pots containing delicate-looking, fluffy white flowers. The pots surrounded a tiny, shallow pool, at whose center a small fountain continually flowed with a soft murmuring.

In a detached way, Solonn wondered about the enshrined latias and what sort of a place this could be to contain such a thing. Not knowing made it hard to guess what Jal’tai could have in store for him here. But he was sure that whatever awaited him, it wouldn’t be good.

He let his head loll backwards over Jal’tai’s arm to see what lay at the other end of the room. He was greeted by a very different sight: no shrines, no flowers, no portraits. There was only a metal table, unremarkable and featureless save for a series of slots arranged in symmetrical patterns all the way down its length.

Solonn got a chilling sense that the table would be involved in whatever punishment Jal’tai intended for him. He swallowed hard as he stared at it, already imagining how he might suffer there.

Jal’tai let go of him, but Solonn didn’t hit the floor. There was no question why; he could see the fuchsia light in Jal’tai’s eyes. The latios lifted him a little higher into the air, then began guiding him backward—toward that table. It seemed Solonn’s suspicions about it had been right on the mark.

He felt the cold, hard metal through his shirt as he was laid down on the table, the chill quickly seeping into his already aching bones. His limbs moved against his will as Jal’tai telekinetically repositioned them between pairs of those slots. The next second, metal bands suddenly erupted from the slots and shackled his arms, legs, and waist to the table.

Slowly, Jal’tai moved toward Solonn. The light faded from his eyes as he came to a stop directly above his captive—and then a blaze of another kind awakened in its place, the exact nature of which Solonn feared to guess. But it was gone just as soon as Solonn had noticed it, leaving him wondering if he hadn’t just imagined it.

The latios closed his eyes. He took a long, steadying breath, clasping his talons as if in prayer. “I had dearly hoped it wouldn’t come to this,” he said, his voice sounding very heavy despite being barely more than whispered. “I’d hoped you would see things clearly and understand what’s needed of you… I wanted to believe you would…”

His eyes opened and met Solonn’s gaze, weariness and disappointment written all over his face. “But I knew better, really,” he said with very little inflection, “even from the very start—hence the need for our little experiment tonight.”

Before Solonn could guess what Jal’tai was referring to, the latios continued. “The events of this night were the final stage of this experiment, which was designed to test your willingness to serve our cause. On the night I transfigured you, I injected a small transmitter under your skin. I instructed Neleng to obliquely allow you to learn the exit code from her, and the police were told to keep an eye on your transmitter’s signal and to apprehend you and bring you to me if you attempted to leave Convergence.”

An immediate sinking feeling struck deep into Solonn’s chest, while his extremities went numb with shock. “…You set this up?” he asked hoarsely. He didn’t want to believe it. Gods knew he didn’t. But in hindsight… of course it was all a ruse. “You—” He paused momentarily, swallowing in a futile attempt to relieve his parched throat. “—you let me run away?”

Jal’tai nodded slowly, sorrowfully. “I had to know if you would.”

The disbelief in Solonn’s features turned to outrage. He looked right into Jal’tai’s face with an unflinching, accusatory stare, a steady stream of tears running from his bloodshot eyes. “Of course I would!” he croaked, his voice cracking painfully. “Of course I would, after what you did to me!”

Jal’tai gave a soft, troubled sound as he turned away from the human. He hovered there in place for several moments on end, staring at the shining image of the latias who smiled back at him from across the room. Then he lowered his head, and a beat later, he abruptly turned back toward Solonn.

Though he knew it was useless to try, Solonn couldn’t help but struggle in his restraints as Jal’tai drew close once more. Within a breath, Jal’tai was hovering over him again, and burning brightly within the latios’s eyes…

No, Solonn hadn’t imagined the strange light that he’d seen there before. There it was again, but now that it lingered, more of its peculiar qualities presented themselves. It pulsed and swirled arrhythmically, constantly shifting its color and intensity. Solonn wanted to look away, but neither his head nor his eyes would obey him.

The light and color expanded outward from Jal’tai’s eyes in a sudden burst, spreading over the rest of his body and then washing over the entire room. The latios himself was reduced to a vague outline; if it hadn’t been for his slight motion in midair as he breathed, Solonn would have easily lost sight of him.

Sudden, sharp pain lanced into Solonn’s eyes as the surrounding light intensified sharply. He cried out and kept trying to close them, to no avail. He could only scream on as they watered and burned, until finally his voice gave out.

The dancing colors sped up dramatically, rushing in every direction around Solonn. In their frenzy, a powerful noise arose: a painfully intense, discordant chorus of screeches and roars. In the next second, Solonn swore he could taste and smell the chaos, as well; its scent and flavor were extremely sharp and sour, burning his throat as he inhaled, making him cough and gag.

All at once, the phenomenon was assaulting every part of him at once. With every passing second, the punishment of his every sense grew stronger. Throttled by the grip of a full sensory overload, Solonn begged the gods for it to stop. He wished dearly that he’d just pass out.

The outline of the latios above suddenly became much more distinct, and the change took an immediate and absolute hold of Solonn’s attention even in the midst of the surrounding chaos. <Be at peace,> said a telepathic voice that mirrored Jal’tai’s spoken voice, clear as a bell despite the din.

Then the light, the noise, and all of the pain simply ceased.

* * *​

There was a delay before Solonn dared to recognize that the bizarre torture had finally ended. Once he did, he became aware of his surroundings—or rather, the lack thereof. He could see nothing, hear nothing, taste nothing, smell nothing, feel nothing. There was simply nothing around him to be perceived. He couldn’t even perceive anything of himself other than his own awareness.

He was instantly reminded of the great ball, and he began to wonder if he’d been sent into something along those lines. Was this was part of his punishment? Would Jal’tai keep him imprisoned here, perhaps only letting him out to inflict more of that multisensory torture upon him, until he was so severely traumatized that he’d accept anything?

In a literal flash, his solitude was broken. A shapeless, luminous body shone like a star within the darkness that surrounded him, impossible light in a world without vision. Just as suddenly as it had appeared, it took on a familiar form.

Jal’tai now hovered there in the emptiness before him, glowing brilliantly, a latios made out of pure, white light. Only the dragon’s eyes were lightless, two fathomless, pitch-black holes in his luminous face.

He spoke to Solonn telepathically, but in a mindvoice that was different than before, one as vast as the void that surrounded him. <No, Solonn. That is not what I’ve done to you, nor is it what I intend to do.>

The sheer immensity of the psychic voice stoked Solonn’s fear to new heights. He acknowledged Jal’tai’s words, but he was too overwhelmed by them to respond.

<I won’t let any further harm come to you,> Jal’tai said somberly. <I know you’d never be able to forgive me for all that you’ve suffered to this point… and I wouldn’t expect you to,> he added. <I doubt I’ll ever be able to forgive myself… and if She won’t, either, I would understand…>

The glowing latios extended his arms. Solonn felt Jal’tai’s embrace despite having nothing of himself with which to actually, physically feel anything, just as he’d seen and heard Jal’tai without eyes and ears.

<Your suffering ends here,> Jal’tai tried to assure him. <I will now ensure that you will struggle no more.>

What are you going to do to me? Solonn asked fearfully. He had no voice in this place, but he also had no doubt at this point that Jal’tai could hear his thoughts.

<I could tell you,> Jal’tai replied, <but you wouldn’t remember.>

With that, the black holes that were the latios’s eyes gave a single, massive flash of light that was even brighter than the rest of him, and Solonn knew no more.

* * *​

A gasp rent the air as lungs that had been suspended in stasis for nearly five minutes suddenly resumed their duties. Their owner’s head sank as he took several moments to catch his breath. His spine arched and his talons flexed, awakening his muscles somewhat painfully.

With something of an effort, Jal’tai made himself look upon Solonn’s face. The human stared back through blank, dilated eyes that held a faint, silvery glow. He was still alive, but suspended in a peculiar state between consciousness and unconsciousness. His mind was subdued and encapsulated within a psychic prison, barred from access to his own brain. The lati had a name for this state: liasa andielenne. The waking death.

Entering it was invariably horrific for the subject, and Jal’tai regretted this to no small degree. But he knew it was crucial for what he was about to do. There was work to be done within this human’s brain, and said human couldn’t be there to witness or interfere with the task at hand.

Still, even with the necessary preparations made, Jal’tai worried for the outcome of this procedure. Major, intrusive psychic methods such as the one he was about to employ had a significant risk of detrimental side effects, especially in brains with no sort of defense against the psychic element. Of particular concern to Jal’tai was the fact that they could corrupt or even destroy psychic anomalies in the brain—anomalies such as the Speech.

Hence Jal’tai had been severely reluctant to resort to this course of action—it had every bit as much potential to ruin his candidate as it had to secure him, if not more. Nevertheless, the latios committed himself to this act, convinced that there truly was no better option. The odds were overwhelmingly against finding yet another Speaker anytime soon; Jal’tai didn’t know how long he had in this world to wait. And he knew that he’d rest much more easily once he could be sure Convergence’s future was secured.

Jal’tai cast an imploring glance over his shoulder at the marble panel behind him. Please watch over him, Rei’eli, he prayed silently to the image of the goddess that smiled at him from the far end of the room. Keep his gift whole.

He turned back toward Solonn, his heart heavy with concern. He placed his talons upon the human’s head, staring intently into his subject’s empty eyes. His breathing slowed dramatically as his focus deepened, stoking his psychic element and manifesting it into a vehicle for his consciousness. As it carried him out of his own head and into Solonn’s, he dearly hoped his goddess had heard his prayer.

* * *​

Haze enveloped the intruder, hanging calmly over the surrounding mindscape. It was a thick and very murky medium, one that would have offered up no distinction among its constituent elements to less sophisticated senses, and would have threatened to erase the lines between itself and a less capable invader.

But the haze wouldn’t absorb Jal’tai, nor would it keep any secrets from him. He could readily make out the individual memories that formed it, as well as the intricate ways they were connected. The task was made all the easier by liasa andielenne; the haze would have been roiling turbulently in an active mind, making it harder to see what lay within it. It also helped that he’d been here before.

Within these memories was the key to the human’s cooperation—answers to why it hadn’t been achieved and how it could be. Jal’tai began to sift through the haze, searching for images of that overgrown field and the guise of the swellow he’d worn there twelve days prior. They looked considerably different from his own memories of the place, recorded through very different eyes, but there was no mistaking them.

Having found the starting point for the relevant chain of memories, he proceeded to anchor his psychic power to it. Then he let the memories play within his mind, unfolding in chronological order at an incredible speed as he copied them all. Almost as soon as it had begun, the process was finished. In barely more than an instant, Jal’tai had obtained twelve days’ worth of memories that were not his own.

Now he had to deal with the original copies. There were two options where that was concerned. One was to simply erase them. The other was to keep them intact but heavily suppressed, locking them away deep within Solonn’s subconscious mind.

Erasure was the more alluring option, not to mention more comforting. But it required a much more intrusive procedure than merely sealing the memories would. Even doing as much as he’d already done was pushing it, endangering the very thing he’d gone to these lengths for. He didn’t want to take the added risk unless it was truly necessary.

Unwilling to decide on the matter too quickly, even now, Jal’tai replayed his own copies again, more slowly this time. He saw himself, disguised as a swellow, leading Solonn through the woods and into Convergence. He experienced Solonn’s first morning as a human, vicariously feeling his fearful disbelief at his new form and his bereavement at the loss of his element. He watched himself reveal his own true form, listened to his own attempts to make Solonn listen to reason, and watched—and felt—the excruciating, telekinetic punishment he’d inflicted upon the human when his failure to convince Solonn through words had burned through his patience…

…And here he paused, bringing the playback to a grinding halt. Suddenly confronted with the suffering his frustration had caused, made to actually feel the pain and terror he’d inflicted, he found himself overwhelmed by horror, guilt, and shame. What in heaven’s name came over me? he wondered, aghast. By the Goddess… I could have killed him…

Long moments passed before he regained himself enough to continue his work. Even then, he remained shaken by the reminder of what he’d done as he resumed studying the former glalie’s recent memories, watching as Solonn dragged himself listlessly through his first few days as a human and then began planning an escape in the next, with the chain of memories ending with Solonn’s foiled escape and his subjection to liasa andielenne.

Jal’tai went back to contemplating his next actions, and for quite a while longer than he’d intended. Realizing just how close he’d already come to losing Solonn as a candidate, he was now especially disinclined to tempt fate any more than he could help. And yet… thoughts of that day when he’d lost control still haunted his mind. And if the human were to somehow recall it, it was sure to destroy any trust Jal’tai could instill in him.

Finally… finally, Jal’tai made his decision. He isolated the memories of the past twelve days from the rest of the haze. Then he set a psychic lock upon them and relocated them to the deepest, most inaccessible layer of the human’s mind—but not before extracting one particular memory from the chain and annihilating it.

The offending history was now suppressed, but Jal’tai’s work wasn’t finished yet. As he withdrew from Solonn’s mindscape to initiate the next step of the process, he tried to draw some relief and satisfaction from the fact that at least now Solonn would no longer recall his brutal punishment. But his efforts were hampered by the knowledge that he couldn’t purge that memory from his own mind.

* * *​

With his consciousness having returned to the physical plane, Jal’tai once again beheld the motionless human before him. Solonn still wore the same blank, emotionless, lifeless expression he’d been wearing ever since he’d entered liasa andielenne.

At least he’s not suffering anymore, the latios thought wearily as he set himself down on the floor for a short break. Sustaining his presence within a foreign mind for extended periods of time was fairly taxing, especially at his age. He rested his head in his talons as he prepared to create a different version of events to replace the memories he’d just sealed away.

Jal’tai still saw promise in Solonn despite the obstacles that had arisen in trying to get the human to recognize his potential. He was quite certain Solonn was capable of appreciating the Convergence Project’s mission and thus might have accepted his new role under different circumstances. He still felt that no other course of action but the one he’d taken could’ve securely succeeded, that it had been the only way to be sure Solonn would take that form. What was done was done, and because Solonn had reacted so adversely to the way it was done, the next step was to make the human believe that things had been done differently.

Jal’tai entered a trance in which he began fabricating an alternative version of the past twelve days. If all went well, this rewrite of history would turn Solonn into the ready and willing successor the latios so dearly hoped for.
 
Last edited:
Chapter 16

Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
Location
*aurorus noise*
Partner
glalie
Chapter 16 – Home


Go!” Solonn shouted at the terrified creature who cowered before him—the creature who’d nearly become his prey. He watched as the zigzagoon sprinted fearfully away through the tall grass, sickened by himself as he thought of what he’d nearly done.

“Well, that was certainly magnanimous of you,” said a bright, jovial voice.

Surprised, Solonn turned at once to see who’d just spoken. He saw a feathered, blue-and-gray dragon hovering in midair a short distance away.

The dragon introduced himself as Jal’tai, a latios. After Solonn had introduced himself in turn, Jal’tai asked what had brought him to this area, having never seen Solonn around before. Solonn told him that he’d fled from human abductors in Lilycove and was just trying to lie low until he could find a way to return to his home across the sea.

Jal’tai offered him a place to stay in a city in the west, where he could be safe and comfortable. Solonn hesitated to take him up on the offer, reluctant to go into another human city. Jal’tai assured him that the place he had in mind was nothing of the sort. After a a little more consideration, Solonn accepted Jal’tai’s offer and followed him westward through the forest.

Upon arriving at their destination, a place Jal’tai identified as Convergence, Solonn couldn’t help but notice familiarities about the city—ones that contradicted the latios’s assurances.

“Jal’tai, I thought you said this wasn’t a human city…”

“Yes, I most certainly did,” Jal’tai responded. “And on closer inspection, you might realize that indeed, just as I stated, this is not a
human city. Here in Convergence, pokémon and humans live and work as equals.” He smiled proudly. “I’m the man in charge of this city, you see, and I wouldn’t have it any other way around here.”

That last part took a moment to fully register. “…Wait, did you say you were
in charge here?” Solonn asked once it clicked.

Jal’tai nodded, still beaming. “Yes, that’s correct,” he said. “I am the mayor of this fine city. Convergence is my pride and joy—a testament to the equality of all peoples. You see… in the cities owned and ruled exclusively by humans, pokémon are second-class citizens—if even that.” Disgust flitted across his face. “But here, pokémon are afforded the same rights and opportunities as humans. They can own the same properties, operate the same vehicles, and enter the same occupations. Our academy offers education and training that only humans can receive elsewhere.

“My hope is that the rest of the human world will learn from Convergence’s example, that they’ll see that they can and should live alongside pokémon in harmony and equality. This community may very well be the starting point for a greatly-needed change in human-pokémon relations—perhaps then, pokémon will be respected by humans, rather than disregarded, exploited, and abused as we’ve all too often been in the past. Now do you see what makes Convergence great?”

Solonn could only nod in response, still quite absorbed in what Jal’tai had just told him about the state of relations between humans and the other peoples of the world.

Jal’tai offered to take him to lunch at a local restaurant, and he accepted. Along the way, he was shown how the pokémon citizens of Convergence used technological conveniences invented by humans to go about their everyday lives—a privilege they’d be denied in the human world, according to Jal’tai.

Once they’d reached the restaurant and were served their respective meals, Jal’tai went on about the apparent schism between humans and other intelligent species.

“As I was saying,” the latios said as he paused momentarily in his enjoyment of his fish platter, “the way pokémon are perceived by humans
desperately needs to be changed. Did you know that most humans don’t realize—or else denythat pokémon are intelligent beings?”

Solonn looked up from the steak that had been served to him; he still hadn’t touched it. “…No,” he responded, sounding troubled. “No, I didn’t know that.”

Jal’tai nodded sadly. “It’s true. The majority of humans regard pokémon not as people, but as mere
animals,” he told Solonn, vehemence coloring his words and shining in his eyes.

“Gods… How could they see us that way?” Solonn wondered aloud.

The latios sighed sorrowfully. “I’ve been trying to figure that out myself for many years—to no avail, I’m afraid. All I know for certain is that they must be made to see the truth if pokémon are to receive the treatment we deserve from their kind.”

Jal’tai resumed his meal then, leaving Solonn to muse on all that he’d just learned. It disturbed and saddened him to think that most humans could regard pokémon so poorly. But he also couldn’t help but think of Morgan—she’d always treated Solonn and her other pokémon with respect, not as inferiors. If she could respect pokémon, then maybe the humans who didn’t could learn to do so, too. Maybe, Solonn considered, there was hope for the relations between humanity and the rest of the world’s peoples.

At length, Solonn finally forced himself to eat his steak. Shortly thereafter, he suddenly became incredibly tired—he suspected the trials of the prior evening were finally taking their toll on him. When he mentioned this to Jal’tai, the latios agreed, and he brought Solonn to a nearby hotel to get some much-needed rest.

Solonn fell into a profoundly deep sleep just as soon as he entered his suite, and he stayed asleep until late in the following morning when he was awakened by a series of loud, shrill beeps followed by the sound of a computerized voice.


“Receiving message,” the voice said coolly.

Solonn only distantly noted those words, not quite absorbing them, as he was still in the process of waking up. He was slightly more conscious when another, more familiar voice spoke up.


“Solonn? Are you awake?” the latios asked.

Stifling a yawn, Solonn rose from the floor and turned toward the source of Jal’tai’s voice but saw no one. A second later, once he was fully awake, he spotted the paging device on the nearby table, and he remembered being told he could use it to call Jal’tai—apparently it also worked the other way around.

“Yeah, I’m awake,” he finally answered.


“Good, good,” Jal’tai said brightly. “Is it all right if I come and pay you a visit?”

“Hm? Sure, go ahead,” Solonn said.

“Ah, very well, then,” Jal’tai said. “I’ll be right up in a moment.”

“Connection terminated,” said the computerized voice again, and with another beep, the device shut itself off.

Very shortly thereafter, that same voice spoke up again, this time to announce the arrival of a visitor. Bright green light blossomed from a tile on the floor near the wall, then faded as Jal’tai materialized within the suite.

“Good morning,” the latios said amiably. “How are you feeling today?”

“Meh, just fine, I suppose,” Solonn answered. “Still a little tired, but other than that…”

“Hm,” Jal’tai responded, nodding. “Well, I’m glad to hear that you seem to be on the mend. I was concerned about you yesterday, you know,” he said earnestly. “I feared you wouldn’t even make it to the hotel without passing out. Never in my life have I seen someone so suddenly and completely drained of energy… those humans in Lilycove must have put you through a most dreadful ordeal, indeed…”

Solonn only made a small, wordless, affirmative noise in response.

“Well, at least you managed to escape from those scoundrels,” Jal’tai said. “You’ve certainly been spared a most unpleasant fate… Do you have any idea what their motives might have been in taking you?”

Solonn hesitated to answer. Yes, he knew why he’d been taken—and in the wake of finding out, he was especially wary of bringing it up.

But as he thought about it, he wondered if there was really any danger in confiding in Jal’tai. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d trusted someone with his secret—he’d deemed Morgan and her pokémon safe, and he still felt that had been a sound judgment, even considering what had happened the day before he’d come to Convergence. His abilities had only gotten him into trouble after strangers had stumbled upon his secret on their own.

Jal’tai didn’t come across as untrustworthy, really. The latios had made it clear he disapproved of pokémon being mistreated and exploited—he seemed like one of the last people who’d ever make Solonn sorry to confide in him. And since Jal’tai was this city’s leader, perhaps he had the authority to ensure that the wrong people never happened upon Solonn’s secret again.

Solonn hesitated for one last moment; then, “They wanted me…” he began, “because I can do something that apparently very few pokémon can do… I can speak to humans. In their own language.” He sighed bitterly. “The humans who tried to take me wanted to show me off because of it, as a
freak,” he told Jal’tai, that last word more hissed than spoken.

Jal’tai looked utterly appalled. “
Sickening,he hissed. “Absolutely deplorable… what you possess is a gift; you should be honored for it, not exploited…”

At length, Jal’tai drew a long breath, trying to calm himself, then released it on a sorrowful sigh. “I’m afraid such troubles come with the territory of your talents,” he said soberly, closing his eyes and folding his hands. “I know it all too well myself…” He met Solonn’s gaze directly. “It’s true that exceedingly few possess the Speech—the ability to communicate universally. As such, I thought I might never find another who had this ability in common with me.”

Solonn stared speechlessly back at Jal’tai for seconds on end. He hadn’t been expecting to come across someone who shared his linguistic abilities, either. Now he was certain he’d done the right thing by telling the latios his secret. Jal’tai was a kindred spirit—if anyone could be trusted, it was him.

“So, this thing… this ‘Speech’, as you called it… it’s gotten you into trouble, too?” Solonn asked, earning a nod from the latios in response. “Was the trouble with humans?”

“Not exclusively,” Jal’tai answered, “but mostly, yes. Hence the need for a bit of deceptiveness on my part, I’m afraid. Observe…”

Solonn watched the latios, having no idea what to expect. A strange, shimmering glow surrounded Jal’tai, blurring his form until it was no longer recognizable. The light brightened momentarily, then began to take shape once more as it faded.

Once it was gone completely, the latios had apparently gone with it. An elderly, goateed human in a brown suit stood there instead—the man pictured on the sign at Whitley’s.

“This is what the citizens of Convergence, as well as those with whom I do business outside of town, see when they look at me” he said. “To them, I’m a human by the name of Rolf Whitley—I virtually never work under my true identity. I lament that I must appear to the people as something and someone I’m not—it shouldn’t have to be this way, but…”

He sighed. “You see, as a pokémon who can speak human languages, humans may view me as a curiosity—a freak, as you so aptly put it,” Jal’tai explained, clear distaste in his voice. “They won’t listen to or respect something that they regard in such a demeaning way. But as a human who can speak pokémon language, I’m not seen as a freak, but merely gifted. It’s a shameful double standard, but it’s the reality for people like us, I’m afraid.”

With another brief shimmering of light all around him, Jal’tai resumed his true form. “So you see, that guise is how I’m able to not only live with my gift in peace but to use it to do good in this world.”

He turned toward Solonn. “You know, this place, this embodiment of all that I believe in… it couldn’t have been made possible if I didn’t have the Speech,” he then said. “Because this is a community for both pokémon and humans, its leader must be able to deal with both equally. Thus this office demands the Speech, meaning that there are very few who could take care of this city’s needs.”

An unreadable expression suddenly over took Jal’tai’s features, but Solonn was given little time to look upon it or to wonder about it before Jal’tai turned away from him. A very long and rather awkward silence followed.

Eventually, Jal’tai turned back, looking distinctly uneasy. “Solonn…” he began, “I would like to know if…” He faltered, unable to complete the sentence. “No,” he said in a subdued voice a moment later, “no, I just couldn’t ask such a thing of you…”

Solonn’s brows drew together, the light in his eyes flickering slightly in concern. “…What is it?” he asked. “What are you talking about?”

Jal’tai only gazed back at him in silence for a time, looking almost guilty. Even once he did respond, he spoke with clear reluctance.

“I’m… well, I’m not a young dragon anymore,” he said quietly. “I won’t be around to take care of this city forever… I love Convergence, Solonn,” he all but whispered. “I worry for its future… I don’t know what will become of this place without me. Who will watch over this city when I’m gone?”

Solonn didn’t know how to respond to that at first. Then he realized just what the latios was saying. “Are… are you saying you want
me to take your place?” he asked, his eyes wide.

“Well…” the latios responded with something of a delay, “as I said, only those who are blessed with the Speech are qualified to guide and maintain this community. And as I also mentioned, I hadn’t expected that I’d ever find another such person. I’ve been fretting over the matter of who could replace me—and what might become of Convergence and its mission if no one suitable could be found…”

Quite overwhelmed, Solonn suddenly needed to sit down. “…I don’t know what to say…”

“I don’t imagine I would, either, if I were in your position,” Jal’tai said quietly.

“I mean… I understand what you’re worried about, but… are you sure there’s no one else you could ask?” Solonn asked, having trouble geting the words out.

“I honestly can’t say for certain,” the latios answered, “but the odds are very much against it.”

With every passing second, Solonn felt more cornered by the matter. How the guilt had overtaken him so swiftly and strongly, and precisely where it had even come from, he couldn’t guess, but there it was, impossible to deny. He understood Jal’tai’s dilemma, and he genuinely cared… but still…

“…I don’t know,” he said guiltily, “This isn’t a minor matter—I mean, you’re thinking of putting me in charge of an entire city?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Jal’tai… I don’t know if I have it in me.”

“There’s no need to worry where that’s concerned,” Jal’tai said softly. “I assure you that you’d be adequately educated and prepared to take up these responsibilities.”

The latios’s already troubled expression suddenly became even moreso. “Solonn… there is one more thing I need to tell you before you commit yourself one way or another to my offer. I demonstrated how I disguise myself as a human in order to live and work with the Speech safely. You’d have to take on a human identity as well if you took my office. But since you’re not endowed with the power to project a mirage over yourself… well, you’d have to come by your disguise by another means. The only other method by which you could pass for a human… is to actually become one.”

“…
What?” Solonn thought he must surely have misheard the latios. “You can’t be serious!”

“I
am serious, Solonn,” Jal’tai said. “In order to replace me as the mayor of this city, you will have to be physically transformed into a human.”

“But… how is that even
possible?”

“There’s an elemental technique that has been practiced by my people for millennia—namely the transfigure technique—that enables the user to change the form of another thing or person,” Jal’tai explained. “Allow me to demonstrate…”

Jal’tai left the room for a moment. When he returned, he was carrying a small decorative pillow in his talons. “Watch carefully,” he said, then set the pillow down on the floor. He extended his arms, keeping his talons rigid over the pillow. Slowly, spheres of mint-green light swelled around his hands; soon after, an aura of the same color surrounded the pillow.

The light began strobing; Solonn winced, his eyes narrowing to slits to fend off the flashing light. He fought to keep them from closing despite the discomfort, determined to see if Jal’tai could really do what he claimed. To his astonishment, Solonn saw the pillow warping, shifting somewhat jerkily and unevenly into another shape.

With one final flash of green light and one last metamorphic spasm, the pillow was no more. Right before Solonn’s eyes, it had been transfigured into a plant sitting in an earthen pot, its many leafy tendrils spilling out over the rim.

“And that’s how it’s done,” Jal’tai said, sounding somewhat winded, as he picked up the potted plant and examined it briefly. He cast a quick look up at the ceiling. “This would look rather nice right about there, I think…” he remarked, then set the plant back down and turned back toward Solonn once more.

Solonn, meanwhile, stared dumbstruck at the plant. “Oh gods…” he said almost voicelessly. He’d risen from the floor without realizing it and was now starting to back away from the plant.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Jal’tai assured him. “If you choose to accept the change, I’ll do everything in my power to make it as non-traumatic as I can. If you wish, I can render you unconscious during the actual transfiguration. You’d experience no discomfort whatsoever. Afterward, I promise that I’ll help you become accustomed to your new form. Furthermore—” He inclined his head slightly further toward Solonn. “—the change isn’t permanent. It will wear off after about eight to ten years… perhaps by that time, such masquerades will no longer be needed in this world.”

Those reassurances fell short of comforting Solonn, and Jal’tai recognized this. “I know physical transformation isn’t something to be taken lightly, but it’s also something you’ve had some prior experience with, is it not? Yours is an evolved form—perhaps you should try looking at this as just another stage of evolution.”

Jal’tai was right in one sense: this wasn’t the first time that Solonn had faced a possible transformation. But Solonn hadn’t accepted his last change hastily; he’d only agreed to go through with it once it had truly seemed necessary. Furthermore, after comparing his memory of evolution with the process he’d just beheld, he was quite certain they’d be two very different experiences.

“This is just… all too much,” Solonn said finally, wearily, as he set himself back down.

“I understand,” Jal’tai said softly. “I wouldn’t expect anyone to make such a major decision in any hurry.” He began to glide past Solonn, moving toward the transport tile, but turned back before activating it.

“You can stay here as long as you like,” he told Solonn. “And when you come to a decision regarding what I’ve offered you, please call me and let me know. I won’t force you to decide one way or another… but I do ask that you consider what’s at the heart of this matter. This community was born in the name of a better future, one in which the schism between humanity and all the other peoples of the world is bridged at last. Ask yourself: is this not a future that should become a reality?”

Solonn winced, feeling as though a large weight had just dropped into his stomach. He did want to see equality between humans and pokémon, but there was still the matter of what acting on that desire here would require of him. He couldn’t even begin to decide what to do.

He finally pried his eyes away from the plant and turned quickly to face Jal’tai and ask how he was supposed to deal with these conflicting notions, but saw only a flash of green light. The latios had already gone, leaving him alone with the weight of this decision.

For the rest of the day, Solonn’s thoughts were monopolized by Jal’tai’s offer, and it kept him awake throughout the night. He agreed with the latios’s mission, and he couldn’t deny that he truly wanted to help. But to
become a human how could he readily accept something that he could barely believe?

As hour after hour went by, bringing the morning and then midday, Solonn’s thoughts turned toward some of the things his own experience had taught him about the way humans tended to view and treat pokémon. Humans had wanted to profit from his abilities—and they hadn’t been content to take him alone. He thought about the rest of Morgan’s pokémon, whose condition and whereabouts were still unknown. He thought about Morgan herself, separated from some of her closest friends, shaken and crying the last time he’d seen her.

If enough humans could be made to respect pokémon, then perhaps scenarios like that one would never happen again.

The glalie’s eyes drifted toward the paging device. There was his answer, it seemed. He’d been given an opportunity to do something that could significantly benefit the world—he had to take it, he decided then, even if the knowledge of what it would require still terrified him.

He felt heavier than usual as he ascended, as though his body were less than willing to rise from the ground. With his heart hammering, he glided across the room until he found himself looking down upon the paging device. Once he’d remembered how to operate it, he used it to call Jal’tai.


“Yes? What is it, my boy?” Jal’tai said once the connection went through.

“…I’ll do it,” Solonn spat out before his trepidation could foil him.

Jal’tai didn’t respond right away; Solonn feared that perhaps he’d been too vague. But then,
“All right, then,” the latios said simply, then hung up.

In virtually no time, Jal’tai arrived at the suite, entering by way of the transport tile and immediately bringing himself before Solonn.

“I know this wasn’t an easy decision for you,” Jal’tai said, “but in the end, you’ve made the right choice.” He gave a warm, proud smile. “We and our efforts will go down in history, Solonn. And someday, pokémon throughout the world will thank you for your selfless actions here.”

They were nice words, Solonn thought, but the glalie wasn’t feeling quite as long-sighted at the moment as Jal’tai was. He couldn’t really look to the future and any praise and appreciation that lay there—he could only see the present and what it was about to bring, and he really just wanted it to be over and done.

“Do you want me to put you under for the transfiguration?” Jal’tai asked him.

An image of the pillow’s rather spasmodic transformation entered Solonn’s mind, along with an unbidden sense of what such a process might actually feel like, and he shuddered. “Please do,” he responded quickly.

Jal’tai nodded in acknowledgment, then moved forward and placed his talons on top of the glalie’s head, shuddering a bit at how cold it felt. “There will only be a moment’s discomfort,” he assured Solonn.

Solonn gazed nervously into Jal’tai’s eyes for a moment, hoping the latios was right—and then his vision and his consciousness were extinguished in an instant by something that sent a shock through his skull and a burst of red light to the back of his eyes.

When Solonn awakened, the scene surrounding him had changed. He knew at once that he was seeing through different eyes, eyes that were much weaker and more limited in their range than his old ones. He shifted slightly, feeling soft surfaces all around him as his limbs stretched—yes,
his limbs. Jal’tai’s technique had worked—Solonn was now a human.

He lifted his head and saw that he was presently lying in bed. The sheets that covered him prevented him from seeing most of his new form; he pushed them aside with one of his newly-formed arms to have a look at what he’d become.

Somehow, seeing the human body that he now possessed actually made it harder to believe that the change had really happened.

A shadow fell over him; he looked up and to his left and saw Jal’tai there, smiling gently as he hovered in place.

“The transfiguration was a complete success,” the latios said. “Here—have a look at your new face with this,” he suggested, then offered Solonn a small hand mirror. The human took the mirror, and after a moment’s fumbling with it, he managed to catch his own reflection in the glass. “Do you like it?” Jal’tai then asked.

Solonn wasn’t quite sure what to make of his new face; he could still hardly believe he even had it. He responded to Jal’tai’s question with a noncommittal noise.

“Well, given time, I’m sure you’ll get used to it,” the latios said as he took the mirror back from Solonn. “Come now,” he said, offering Solonn a talon to help him up out of bed. “Let me show you around your new home and help you start getting used to your new form.”

Not knowing what else to do, Solonn took Jal’tai’s hand. He let the latios give him a tour of the suite, hoping all the while that he really would get used to this new way of life eventually.

On each day that followed, Jal’tai paid Solonn a visit, during which he helped Solonn learn human habits. He brought a series of instructional videos that demonstrated the ways of human life, and he gave Solonn extra tutelage on certain points of those lessons. While some human practices seemed strange (particularly where hygiene was concerned), he didn’t resist his education, picking up the new habits quickly enough for Jal’tai’s liking.

Things carried on fairly smoothly in this manner until the eighth day following Solonn’s transfiguration. Jal’tai had just left after giving a brief lecture to supplement a segment on one of the DVDs, specifically about the concept of money. Solonn was sitting in the den, reviewing that segment and trying out of semi-boredom to memorize whose portrait was on each denomination of the paper notes, when a sudden, incredibly strong pain awakened in his head, completely without warning.

Solonn shouted in pain and alarm, wondering what in the world could be happening to him. It worsened with each passing second, making flashing spots explode in his vision and shooting a bolt of nausea down his throat.

Certain that something was terribly wrong, he tried to call Jal’tai, hoping the latios could get help for him. He reached for the paging device—but as he did so, a powerful spasm tore through his body. His outstretched arm flailed wildly, knocking the device to the floor.

He tried to pick it back up, but he still hadn’t quite regained control of his muscles. No sooner had he risen from his chair than he collapsed to the floor—and he didn’t get back up. The last thing Solonn was aware of before he blacked out completely was a blurred, sideways view of the paging device lying just inches away.



* * *​


Jal’tai emerged from his trance, having constructed and packaged a chain of memories to replace the ones he’d quarantined. He allowed himself a couple of minutes’ worth of rest before rising and returning to the table where his subject lay.

Once again, he entered the human’s mind and immediately sought out the chronological telltales that identified the memory directly preceding the ones he’d locked away, showing him where the new memories were to be placed. Very carefully, Jal’tai implanted the chain, made certain its connections to the preceding memories were secure, then left the human’s mind once more.

The procedure was finished. Anxious anticipation spread through Jal’tai’s nerves as he looked upon Solonn, wondering if the work he’d just done had secured the human as a successor or if it had done quite the opposite.

This was the moment of truth, Jal’tai knew. He needed to see if interferening with Solonn’s mind had robbed the human of the Speech. Focusing his psychic abilities, he stirred Solonn’s consciousness within the confines of liasa andielenne without truly awakening it. The human shifted slightly in his shackles, turning his still-blank eyes toward Jal’tai. Solonn was now in a state in which he’d respond to stimuli and commands while being utterly unaware of doing so.

“Solonn,” Jal’tai addressed him. He held up one hand and pointed two claws toward his own eyes. “What am I pointing at?”

Solonn maintained his empty stare at the latios for a brief moment. Then, “Vhekahr’syin sierahs hivhassen,” he responded inflectionlessly.

Glalie language, Jal’tai noted, unsurprised. Solonn had spoken his own language almost exclusively in all the time Jal’tai had known him; he wasn’t one to “show off” his linguistic abilities. But this situation was one that required Solonn to do just that.

“Solonn, this time you will answer in my language,” Jal’tai instructed, then indicated his eyes once again. He’d never heard Solonn speak in lati language and was certain that the former glalie had never done so. If Solonn could respond in this language, it would be a good indication that his abilities had survived the psychic procedure. “What am I pointing at?” he repeated.

Like the last time, there was a delay in Solonn’s response, but it was longer than before—Jal’tai feared that the human wouldn’t be able to respond as instructed. But then, much to Jal’tai’s immense relief, “Catelisi adiele setali assiria,” Solonn answered.

“Oh… oh, thank the Goddess!” Jal’tai exclaimed almost breathlessly, so overjoyed with relief that he broke into tears. The procedure was a complete success—Solonn now possessed memories that would allow him to accept his new purpose, and he’d kept the skills that would allow him to serve it.

Jal’tai released Solonn from both the hypnotic state and liasa andielenne, allowing the human to become fully unconscious at last. “Rest well, my boy,” Jal’tai said softly. “You’ve certainly earned it.”

Smiling, Jal’tai turned and drifted over to his shrine to Rei’eli. Once there, he reached for the potted autillia flowers and closed his talons around a pair of them, allowing them to fall apart in his hands. He looked up at the serene face of his goddess as he held handfuls of petals over the fountain, an almost rapturous gratitude written all over his face.

Thank you, Jal’tai prayed silently and sincerely. With all my heart, I thank you. With that, he let the petals fall from his hands, drifting gently down into the water in a symbolic return of the power that his goddess had lent him.


* * *​


“…which came back negative, thankfully… Oh look, he’s awake!”

Solonn awoke to the sound of the cheerful voice that had just spoken and was greeted with a somewhat blurry view of its owner: standing nearby was a chansey, who was looking at him and smiling. He also awoke to a splitting headache.

“Oh good, good!” said another voice, a much more familiar one. “Could you give the two of us a moment, Miss Teresa?”

“Of course,” the chansey replied amiably, then left the room, her tail waving behind her as she waddled away.

Groaning softly, Solonn rubbed his eyes to clear them, then cast a glance about himself, confused. He found that he was lying in a simple bed in a sterile, white room. He also found that he wasn’t alone; seated at his bedside was an elderly man: Jal’tai in his human guise, Solonn recognized with a slight delay.

“Good morning,” Jal’tai said warmly. “Or, to be more accurate, good late morning,” he amended with a chuckle. “Feeling all right?”

“Ugh… not really,” Solonn answered groggily. “Gods, my head hurts…”

“Hmm,” Jal’tai responded, sounding concerned. “Well, that’s nothing a little aspirin won’t cure, I’d reckon.”

Solonn cradled his aching head in his hands for a moment, hoping he’d be given some of this “aspirin” as soon as possible. “Where am I?” he then asked.

“You’re in the Haven, Solonn,” Jal’tai told him, “our city’s medical center. I brought you here after I found you unconscious on the floor in your suite. I’ve been so worried about you, my boy,” he said earnestly, concern etched into the deep lines of his aged, presently-human face. “You were out cold for nearly four days.”

With some difficulty amid the pain, Solonn managed to recall the last evening he’d spent in that suite. A headache that was even worse than the one he was suffering now had struck him, and then he’d passed out. “What in the world happened to me back there?” he asked. “Gods, it scared me half to death…”

“I’m afraid what you experienced was a side effect of your transfiguration,” Jal’tai said. “That sort of a change can put a lot of stress on a body, and sometimes that stress can sneak up and hit you all at once—sometimes immediately, sometimes with a bit of a delay, but usually never.”

He sighed. “What you experienced is a rare occurrence indeed; I truthfully hadn’t expected it to happen. It usually only follows transfigurations performed by less-than-skilled users… I assure you that I’m well-practiced in the art, but I fear that age may have deteriorated my skills somewhat. I sincerely apologize for your suffering,” he said somberly, lowering his head.

“Mmm,” Solonn said dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. You said you hadn’t expected this to happen.”

Jal’tai gave a small, reserved smile. “You’re too kind,” he said gratefully. “Anyhow… as I mentioned, this is a very rare occurrence, and as such, I don’t expect it to happen again. But just to be safe, I’ve enlisted the services of someone whose abilities should help you stay relaxed and well in both body and mind. Her name is Neleng, and I’ve made an appointment for her to come and visit you tonight. She can also offer a session any and every night after if you wish.”

“Okay,” Solonn said, grateful for anything that might prevent him from going through this nightmare again.

Jal’tai stood then—or more accurately, his human mirage stood. “So, then. Do you think you’re up to resuming your education?”

“Yeah… yeah, I think so,” Solonn answered. “Although I think I’d like to get some of that ‘aspirin’ you were talking about first,” he added.

Jal’tai laughed brightly. “Ah, good,” he said, smiling. “Yes, I think we can safely say that all the unpleasantness is behind you now.”


* * *​


Not long after he’d awakened, Solonn was released from the Haven. He stepped out into the early afternoon under an overcast sky. A light rain was falling, making pattering noises against the wide, burgundy umbrella Jal’tai had given him. Jal’tai’s human mirage held an identical umbrella, but whether the latios was actually holding one or simply projecting an image of one and letting the rain fall on him without a care, Solonn couldn’t tell.

A long, sleek, black car waited in the parking lot in front of the hospital; as Jal’tai and Solonn approached it, a uniformed human stepped out and opened a door in the back for each of them. Solonn got in and took a seat right away. Meanwhile Jal’tai merely projected his human mirage into the vehicle while he hovered above the car outside. The chauffeur closed the doors, then took his seat behind the wheel. Jal’tai’s mirage smiled at Solonn from its place beside him as they set off toward the Convergence Inn.

Solonn stared idly out the window during the ride, watching the urban scenery race past through a veil of autumn rain. As he did so, a peculiar notion came over him: a question of how he’d gotten there, how things had come to be as they presently were. He was briefly puzzled by it, but then dismissed the momentary confusion as a temporary malfunction of his mental faculties, some brief and harmless aftereffect of his recent malady that might never happen again. He gave it no further thought, just glad and grateful that the worst of it was over, and serenely let the wheels carry him home.
 
Last edited:
Chapter 17

Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
Location
*aurorus noise*
Partner
glalie
Chapter 17 – The Academy


“Ahh… Sure is good to be back home, isn’t it?” Jal’tai asked.

Home… Solonn had only lived there for just under two weeks; there were aspects of this place—not to mention this body—that he was still getting used to. And yet… he couldn’t deny that the suite was taking on a sense of familiarity, even comfort at times. It truly was beginning to feel like home.

“Suppose so,” he responded, semi-absently raking a hand through slightly damp hair.

Jal’tai smiled at him. “Here, let me take your coat,” he offered. Solonn allowed the latios to do just that. Then, still quite taxed from his recent hospitalization, Solonn went straight to the armchair in the den and dropped himself onto it.

After putting Solonn’s coat in its right place, Jal’tai disappeared into the kitchen; a moment later, Solonn could hear the rather loud whirring of the blender. Soon after it fell silent, Jal’tai drifted back into the den with a glass of something opaque and pale purple clutched in one of his talons.

“Here,” the latios said, handing the glass to Solonn. “It’s one of my specialties. It’s got something of an energizing property—the effect isn’t as strong for humans as it is for pokémon, but it still ought to put a little of the vigor back into you. Plus, it’s rather tasty,” he added with a grin.

Curious, Solonn gave it a try. It was pleasantly creamy, with a nice, strong berry flavor. He looked up from the drink to voice his approval—but where he expected to see a latios, there was only empty air. “Jal’tai?” he called out as he tried to spot him. He looked toward the transport tile just in time to see a green flash there.

Puzzled, Solonn stared at the space where Jal’tai had just been. He took a sip of the berry smoothie every few moments as he wondered where Jal’tai had gone and why he’d left without warning. Before he could come up with any answers, the latios returned as suddenly and unexpectedly as he’d left.

“Sorry to just pop out and back without warning,” Jal’tai said, having noticed the somewhat bewildered look on Solonn’s face. “I’d meant to pick this up on the way here, but it slipped my mind.”

Before Solonn could ask the latios had brought him, it was in his hands. It was a paperback book, one whose title instantly bemused him. “Parent’s Choice: The Very Best Names for Your Baby?” Solonn read the title of the book aloud with an odd look on his face.

The latios nodded. “You’re going to choose a name from this book to use as your own from now on.”

“Is that really necessary?” Solonn asked. “What’s wrong with the name I already have?”

“Nothing, of course,” Jal’tai answered. “But it’s still a good idea for you to take a human name. It’ll help to reinforce your human identity.”

Solonn’s brow furrowed skeptically as he set his smoothie down on the table beside him and opened the book, riffling through its pages without really stopping to read them. “I still don’t see the need for it… I don’t think anyone outside my—” He nearly said “my own species”, but caught himself short. He couldn’t exactly call them that anymore. Managing not to get too ensnared by that matter, “No one other than snorunt and glalie would be likely to recognize it as anything other than a human name,” he said. “And what are the odds of one of them showing up here?”

“Good enough,” Jal’tai replied. “You could encounter any number of species here. It’s best to be prepared for anything. And furthermore, any effort that can be made to strengthen your new identity is a step worth taking. Your new occupation and your new life will be much easier if people have as few reasons as possible to ask questions. A name that strikes humans as unusual might lead them to inquire about its origins—about your origins, Solonn. Do you wish to face those kinds of questions?”

“No,” Solonn answered promptly. “No, I wouldn’t.” He didn’t have much faith in his ability to come up with a convincing human background—he rather hoped he could avoid having to give out too many details.

He opened the book again, bothering to read it from the beginning this time. Minutes wore on, and then hours, and still none of the names had struck his fancy. Finally, Solonn grew so weary of the whole matter that not even midway through the “M”-names, he decided to just settle on the next half-decent one he came across.

“Michael,” he said, meeting Jal’tai’s gaze steadily enough, sounding more confident in his final choice than he truly was. “I’ll take that one.”

Jal’tai gave him an inquisitive look, cocking his head slightly. “Are you sure?”

Solonn barely managed to stifle a wince. Those words… “Absolutely,” he replied at once, wanting to get the matter behind him as soon as possible.

The latios smiled, nodding approvingly. “A fine choice, I say. Common enough, yet also quite stately, in my opinion.” Solonn rolled his eyes at Jal’tai’s choice of words. “Well, then. For our next matter of business, it might be a good idea to choose at least one middle name for yourself.”

Solonn sighed. From the time spent with Morgan and her pokémon, he’d learned (mostly from Sei) that many species didn’t find it necessary to give their children more than a single personal name and some sort of a family name, if even that much. Sei only had two names, while Oth only had one. Solonn had rather envied them; he’d heard quite enough laughter over his own middle name for a lifetime.

“Do I have to have a middle name, exactly?” Solonn asked tentatively. “I mean, do humans have to have one?”

Another of those inquisitive looks crossed Jal’tai’s face. “Well, no,” the latios answered. “Plenty of human cultures don’t use them, as a matter of fact. You don’t have to yourself; I just thought I’d offer it as an option.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Solonn said promptly. “I’d rather do without.”

“Very well,” Jal’tai said, at which relief spread through Solonn.

All that was left now was to take on a human surname—a name to represent a human family that he didn’t have. The notion bothered Solonn, and he couldn’t pretend it didn’t. In his eyes, it almost amounted to denying his family, his mother…

Denying doesn’t have to mean forgetting, he realized. Whatever else had to change, he could still keep his memories.

With that settled, he let Jal’tai suggest various human surnames to him, stopping the latios when he heard one that he didn’t mind. Michael Layne was his new name, and while he didn’t think nearly as well of it as Jal’tai did, he felt like he could have done a lot worse.

“Whew,” Jal’tai said, casting an eye toward the clock. “Well, that certainly took a while. I’d expected it would, though.”

“Yeah, well…” Solonn said, not really knowing how else to respond. Of course it should take a while to choose a name for yourself—who’d want a name they disliked or regretted following them wherever they went?

That thought made something occur to him. “So, did you have a hard time choosing your human name?”

So fleetingly that it could have easily been imagined, a strange, inscrutable look appeared on Jal’tai’s face. “Actually, not really,” he answered with only the slightest delay. “I came by the decision quite readily.”

“Hm.” Not really sure of what he thought of that, if anything, Solonn dismissed the matter.

“Well, what matters is that we’ve gotten this taken care of now,” Jal’tai said pleasantly. “Now you’ve got a human name to match your human appearance—a name under which I can enroll you at the Convergence Academy,” he added. “I’ve enlisted the services of a very capable instructor, one who’ll teach you nearly everything else you’ll need to know before you go into office. Systan Exeter knows you have a lot to learn, and they’re sure to keep you very busy—I don’t mean this to intimidate you, of course,” he added with a sort of self-conscious little chuckle.

Solonn gave a dismissive shake of his head. He’d known from the start that he’d have a lot of work ahead of him. He was a little surprised at first that Jal’tai wouldn’t be handling most of his training, but then supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Jal’tai still had a city to run, after all. He couldn’t be expected to tend to all his successor’s needs.

Solonn only hoped this “Exeter” would be likeable enough and hopefully not too strict.

“Now, I won’t be shipping you off to school just yet,” Jal’tai told him. “You’ve been through a lot these past few days, and I think you’re entitled to some rest before taking on something so major.”

The latios looked at the now-empty glass that sat on the table beside Solonn. “Would you like me to make you another smoothie before I go?”

“Hmm? No, that’s okay,” Solonn answered. “Thanks anyway, though.”

Jal’tai nodded, but took the glass in his talon anyway. “It should be washed, at least,” he said, pointing at the pale purple film that was drying inside of the glass, then disappeared into the kitchen.

Shortly thereafter, Solonn heard the blender whir to life again, which puzzled him. It seemed his polite refusal had slipped from Jal’tai’s mind.

Sure enough, there was a fresh glass of the purple berry beverage in the latios’s talon when he came back into the den. He set it down on the table with a funny sort of apologetic smile. “Sorry—I just couldn’t resist,” Jal’tai said. “I could tell you really liked the last one, so…” He shrugged.

“Uh… thanks,” Solonn replied politely, albeit a bit awkwardly.

“Anyway,” Jal’tai began, stretching his arms out and flexing his neck, “I’ll be bringing you to the academy on, oh, the Monday after next, I think. I’ll let you have a tour of the facilities and meet Exeter, and you can probably start your classes the next day.

“Now, I won’t lie to you—the workload will seem very heavy at times during the course of your education. But I truly believe you can handle it. And I have a lot of faith in Exeter—you’ll be under the tutelage of one of the greatest and most important minds in all of Convergence. They’ll make sure you stay on course and are fully prepared for the responsibilities that lie in your future. You have absolutely nothing to worry about—you’re going to be in excellent hands… well, in a manner of speaking,” he amended, then laughed.

“In the meantime, though, I just want you to relax,” Jal’tai told Solonn warmly and earnestly. “Yes, you’ve got quite a road ahead of you, but it’s nothing to fear, nothing to be stressed about. I think you’ll find your life becoming richer and better as you begin to truly apply yourself to your purpose. Coming into your role is something to look forward to, my boy. Keep that in mind and be at ease in it in your days to come.

“Of course, Neleng can help you keep your nerves about you—she’ll be here in just over an hour. And again, she can come to visit any evening you wish.

“Until we meet again, take care.” With that, Jal’tai went to the transport tile and disappeared, leaving Solonn alone with a berry smoothie and plenty on his mind.


* * *​


The night before Solonn’s first visit to the academy arrived, and he went to bed thinking exclusively of what would await him the next day. What he most certainly didn’t expect to be awaiting him the next morning was a latios holding a tray of hot, buttered pancakes, hovering almost directly over him.

“Rise and shine!” Jal’tai greeted him cheerfully—and loudly.

Jal’tai’s voice startled Solonn awake at once, and startled him badly. “Bwaaa!” Solonn shouted, flailing momentarily in confusion. He very nearly knocked the pancakes right out of Jal’tai’s talons; doing an admirable job at concealing most of his amusement, the latios backed up and watched patiently as Solonn untangled himself from the sheets.

Sweeping a handful of matted black hair out of his face and trying to will his hammering heart to calm down, Solonn shot a bewildered, incredulous look at Jal’tai. “Good gods… why in the world did you think that was a good idea?”

Jal’tai shrugged. “I figured that if you were anything like me, an ordinary alarm clock wouldn’t do the trick, so…” He held out the tray in front of Solonn with a lopsided, hopeful smile.

Still a bit frazzled, Solonn took the tray from Jal’tai without a word and started in on the pancakes. They were still quite warm, quite fresh; he vaguely wondered how Jal’tai had managed to slip in and cook breakfast without the smell awakening him. When he’d nearly finished the pancakes, he asked, “What time is it?”

“It’s 5:00 a.m.,” Jal’tai replied.

“…Oh, you have got to be joking,” Solonn half-groaned, suddenly feeling rather drowsy again. It had been around 10:00, 9:00 at the earliest, when he’d awoke on the past several mornings. “I don’t think I even got seven hours of sleep last night…”

“Well, I did advise you to get to bed early this time, you know,” Jal’tai pointed out.

“Which I did,” Solonn informed him, then paused to yawn. “A whole hour and a half earlier, in fact. I knew I’d be getting up early, but not this early… I’ll bet the sun isn’t even out yet, is it?”

“It’s about to be,” Jal’tai said. “Anyway, you’ll need to get used to early mornings. You’ll need plenty of time each day for the lessons you’re to learn and the work you’ll be given, so the school day can’t afford to start late. You should be glad you’re going to be given such long hours. You’ll be able to get through your courses much more quickly than you would if you were taught at a more leisurely pace.”

“Lucky me,” Solonn muttered, still somewhat irritable from having been jolted awake. He stirred the remaining maple syrup on his plate about with his fork for a brief while, tracing little patterns in it, lacking the energy to think of anything better or more involving to do. “So how long until we leave?” he eventually asked.

“In about three hours,” Jal’tai answered.

“…What? You woke me up before the sun, and we’re not even leaving for another three hours?”

Despite Solonn’s agitation, Jal’tai kept a remarkably even temperament. “This is when you’ll be waking nearly every day from now on,” he told Solonn. “When you begin attending classes tomorrow, you’ll be leaving an hour earlier than we’ll leave today. I felt it was a good idea for you to start getting used to being up and around at this hour.

“Now, the idea of waking up hours before you have to leave might seem silly to you, but it’s important to have ample time to get yourself ready for where you’re going. You should be able to shower, get dressed, have a nice breakfast, and even have a little time to just sit back and relax before you leave each day. Rushing to an appointment is never a good idea; it can have very sloppy results. Why, you wouldn’t want to arrive there only to find you’d forgotten your trousers, now would you?”

A crooked smile crept across Jal’tai’s face, and he burst into uncontrollable laughter. Solonn only stared bemusedly at him for a moment, failing (or perhaps refusing) to see the humor in the situation that the latios had just illustrated. Slightly disturbed, he pushed his tray to the foot of the bed, then climbed off and left the room to go take a shower, leaving Jal’tai laughing at his own joke.

Minutes later, Solonn was trying in vain to calm the static in his newly dried hair as he stepped out of the bathroom. There was Jal’tai in the den, perched oddly in the armchair and listening to his favorite jazz station with Solonn in his line of sight—he didn’t seem to be paying the human any mind, but Solonn was still glad he’d remembered to put on his bathrobe.

A sudden, brief fanfare sounded out of nowhere, clashing with the music that was coming from the radio. In a swift series of motions, Jal’tai silenced the radio and snatched a silver cell phone from the table nearby. He answered it just as it rang again.

“Hello? …Ah, good morning, Ms. Kal!” he greeted the person on the other end of the line. Solonn stopped on his way to the closet, wondering who this “Ms. Kal” might be and why she was calling. “Is that right… So, the idea just struck you out of the blue, did it?” Jal’tai asked her. There was a pause as she responded, and then the latios laughed. “I’m sure they’ll do just fine, and I know he’s going to appreciate this. This was a very nice thing to do, you know, especially on such short notice.” There was another pause. “Well, we’ll be seeing you shortly. Goodbye.”

The latios hung up and put the phone down. His gaze then shifted to Solonn, and he raised a questioning eyebrow. Solonn could tell from the way that Jal’tai was looking at him that no, the latios hadn’t just noticed him, and the notion that he’d been caught eavesdropping made Solonn oddly uneasy. Slightly embarrassed, he hurried out of Jal’tai’s sight.

Once dressed, he walked into the den to get Jal’tai’s opinion of the outfit; the latios noticed him with a slight delay and then looked him over for perhaps a second and a half at most. “You forgot your tie,” he then informed Solonn.

Solonn made a face at Jal’tai. Ties were easily his least favorite aspect of human-style attire.

“Come on, now. It’s important to make a good first impression when introducing yourself somewhere new—hence the importance of dressing like a gentleman. My videos illustrated that point; do you not remember?” Jal’tai reminded him.

“Right, right…” Solonn said blandly, walking off to finish getting himself ready to leave.


* * *​


Solonn walked along a fairly new-looking, barely-worn cobblestone path that wound through the sprawling grounds in front of Convergence Academy. He was accompanied by Jal’tai, who was presently wearing his human disguise. Every so often, a red or yellow leaf from one of the trees growing along the sides of the path fluttered down and landed on Solonn; he promptly brushed off the ones that he noticed, while Jal’tai removed the ones he didn’t.

As they got closer to the academy itself, Solonn noticed marble panels stretching across the face of the building at each of its floors. They depicted both humans and pokémon who were historically associated with wisdom, invention, and the arts, carved in relief. On the roof, several flags waved in the wind, lined up in a neat row and representing many different regions, with one of them representing the International Pokémon League. In the very center of them all, on a longer pole, was a flag representing Convergence itself, with the unown character “C” in black over a spiraling, silver-and-gold shape.

On either side of the entrance, a large marble statue stood. One of them depicted an elderly human man with flowing robes and a long, curly beard, while the other was carved in the form of a wingless, five-horned dragon pokémon. The two figures each had an arm outstretched toward the other.

“Aphilicus, a great human philosopher, and Meron, an emyril known to a number of pokémon cultures as the Father of Wisdom,” Jal’tai identified the two statues after noticing Solonn looking at them. “Two of the greatest minds in history and therefore fitting icons to represent one of the most important educational facilities in the world.

“Now,” he said in a somewhat lowered voice, drawing the rest of Solonn’s attention from the statues with a tap on the shoulder, “I’ll remind you that you should make a conscious effort to speak human language most of the time. Almost exclusively, in fact. It seems much more fitting, much more natural for a human to speak in the fashion of their kind as a habit, Speech or no Speech; do you understand?”

“Right,” Solonn said, nodding.

Looking pleased with Solonn’s answer, Jal’tai motioned for him to enter the building alongside him. The two passed through the doors and into a vast foyer. A nearly full trophy case stood against the far wall adjacent to the doors, while the other walls were covered in plaques with the names and achievements of star pupils engraved in gold, as well as banners that sported mottos like “Knowledge Is Power!”. There was a round symbol emblazoned in the center of the foyer on the linoleum floor, bearing the intertwining spiral of gold and silver from the Convergence flag.

Footsteps sounded from the hall to the right, heavy-sounding with a faint clicking that suggested claws on the hard floor. Turning toward the sound, Solonn saw a nidoqueen making an approach. She soon reached Solonn and Jal’tai and stopped before them, smiling eagerly.

“Ah, hello, Ms. Kal,” Jal’tai greeted in a friendly tone.

“Hello to you too, sir!” the nidoqueen returned enthusiastically. Her gaze shifted to the unfamiliar human at Jal’tai’s side. “And this must be Mr. Layne, right?”

“Correct,” Jal’tai said.

“Hello, Mr. Layne. It’s so nice to meet you,” Ms. Kal said merrily.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Solonn responded. Remembering some of the etiquette lessons from Jal’tai’s instructional videos, he extended his hand to the nidoqueen. Ms. Kal seemed to have expected this; she took his hand readily in one of her own and shook it with a strong grip.

“So have they got it all set, then?” Jal’tai asked her.

“Oh yes,” Ms. Kal said, beaming. “They’re all ready to go.”

Jal’tai nodded and smiled. He turned to Solonn and said, “Ms. Kal is in charge of teaching some of the academy’s younger students. She will not be teaching you. However… she and her class would certainly like to meet you. Come, let’s go and say hello to the children. Lead the way, madam!”

Eagerly, Ms. Kal turned back toward the hall she’d come from and set off. Jal’tai and Solonn followed her, the latter being especially careful to not follow too closely; he didn’t want to step on the nidoqueen’s tail. They soon reached a door with a placard that read “GRADE 1 (P) – MS. KAL”… but to Solonn’s surprise, they kept walking right past it. Though perplexed as to why the nidoqueen passed by her own classroom, Solonn figured she knew what she was doing, and so he kept silent.

Ms. Kal rounded a corner and continued onward, leading Jal’tai and Solonn behind her until she arrived at the entrance to the gymnasium. Excitedly, she opened the doors…

Welcome, Mr. Layne!” a chorus of voices shouted in less-than-perfect unison. The source of the greeting was a small, multispecies crowd of children—all pokémon, Solonn noted—perched on the bleachers. The children in front held signs that matched the spoken welcome—or were supposed to, anyway. The “l” and the first “e” in “Welcome” were in reverse order; the “y” in “Layne” was upside-down; and the student holding the “M” in “Mr.” forgot to turn up his sign until all the other students had put theirs down.

Ms. Kal’s eyes darted toward Solonn and Jal’tai, holding an alarmed and very apologetic look. “Mr. Layne is very pleased by your excellent welcome,” she said merrily—albeit rather hurriedly—to the children. She cast a hopeful yet urgent look at Solonn that seemed to say, Right? Right?” Solonn took the cue and nodded, smiling warmly and managing not to look as vicariously embarrassed as he felt.

An aipom in the third row lifted the hand on her tail to get the teacher’s attention.

“Yes, Ms. Chibbles?” Ms. Kal acknowledged her.

“Is he gonna be our new teacher? Did you get fired?” asked Chibbles.

Ms. Kal made an incredibly flustered face, her cheeks turning a shade befitting a bruised oran berry. “No, no, of course not, Ms. Chibbles,” she said hastily. “Mr. Layne is going to be a new student here.”

Wondering gazes and whispers flittered among the students. “A grown-up’s coming to our class? He must not be very smart…” a totodile in the back row said very loudly, without raising his hand.

Ms. Kal winced and blushed even further, giving Solonn and Jal’tai another apologetic look. “Please don’t speak out of turn, Mr. Cuomo,” she reprimanded the totodile, though she didn’t sound terribly assertive. “And no, Mr. Layne will be taught by Systan Exeter.”

The whispering among the students abruptly stopped. Ms. Kal smiled in relief, believing she’d finally regained the respect of the students, but Solonn got the feeling that it was actually the mention of Exeter’s name that had brought the hush over the crowd. What sort of a person could Exeter could be for the mere mention of their name to command silence like that?

“Well, then,” Jal’tai spoke up suddenly, clapping a hand onto Solonn’s shoulder and startling him so badly that the human nearly jumped at the voice and contact, “I’m certain Mr. Layne enjoyed your surprise greeting and had a lovely time meeting you all.” Again, Solonn recognized the cue and nodded very self-consciously. “Have a nice day students! You too, Ms. Kal!” Jal’tai said.

“Bye!” she responded cheerfully, waving heartily. As Solonn left the gym with Jal’tai, he turned briefly and noticed Cuomo standing up in the bleachers and mocking the nidoqueen’s voice and the way she waggled her rear end when she waved. Ms. Kal was utterly oblivious to the totodile’s actions.

“Wasn’t that a lovely little thing she decided to do there?” Jal’tai remarked. “Just a spur-of-the-moment, random act of kindness; she said the idea just hit her last Friday, and she simply had to try and pull it off for you. She’s a good person, that Ms. Kal. She’s only recently begun teaching here, but I think that given time, she’ll really come into her own here. The children certainly do seem to like her, that’s for certain.”

They seemed to like her, all right—in that she unintentionally amused them. Solonn’s thoughts didn’t linger upon the nidoqueen and her class for much longer, though. “What do you know about Exeter?” he asked.

“That’s Systan Exeter to you,” Jal’tai corrected him, but not harshly. “You should always keep due etiquette in mind, my boy. Anyhow, I know quite a bit about Exeter, actually,” the latios said, the white mustache of his human guise turning up in a smile. “Exeter is an old friend of mine and one of the primary founders of the Convergence Project. They provided a great deal of research into human industry and technology as well as a number of other key fields, which was vital to the conception and creation of this city and remains invaluable to Convergence and its citizens to this very day. Exeter’s is a brilliant mind, and the unique abilities and properties of their kind give them unparalleled access to some very rich resources and broad varieties of information.”

Learning of Exeter’s intelligence and importance only stoked further unease in Solonn. If they really were as smart as Jal’tai claimed, surely their classes would be extremely challenging. “Just how difficult are Systan Exeter’s classes going to be?” he asked.

“I’ll be perfectly honest with you, Solonn: what you’re about to undertake is a very intensive and demanding education. Exeter usually only tutors psychic students, particularly those with especially sophisticated mental capabilities. It took very little convincing to get them to agree to tutor you exclusively for as long as is necessary, though. Knowing your reason for being here, they were glad to put aside their other classes for a while; they cherish the welfare and future of this city as much as I do.

“Exeter’s are tough courses, yes, the most rigorous ones provided by this school. But Exeter themself is not harsh at all—they’re one of the most patient and pleasant people you’ll ever meet. They want you to learn all that you need to know, and they’re willing to invest as much time and effort in your education as they must. All they’ll ask is that you invest the same in yourself. Will you give them—and yourself—that much?”

Solonn nodded silently. He was still somewhat nervous, but no longer about his teacher so much as about the magnitude of his undertaking, which seemed to be looming much larger than before now that he was about to confront it directly. “You know… I still can’t entirely believe I’m doing this,” he said quietly. “I still can’t quite picture myself in charge of an entire city…”

“You needn’t try so hard to grasp these things all at once,” Jal’tai said warmly. “Everything you’re meant to be will come about in time.”

Solonn turned to look at Jal’tai, to regard the kindly, presently human face that smiled comfortingly back at him. He almost spoke, only to realize just as quickly that he didn’t really have anything to say. He gave a smile that was less than earnest, feeling that Jal’tai’s somehow demanded reciprocation, and then turned away, swallowing against a sudden lump in his throat.

The two walked through the halls of the academy in silence broken only when a stream of human kids emerged from a classroom they passed, the students chatting animatedly as they diverged and made for their next classes. Noise filled the air as classrooms emptied throughout the building near-simultaneously. Several of the passing students shot looks at Jal’tai, clearly recognizing him—or recognizing Mayor Whitley, anyway. Most of them kept going, continuing to look back at him over their shoulders but nonetheless intent on getting to their classes in time. But a small handful of them couldn’t help but stop.

“Is it really you?” a short blond boy among them asked incredulously.

“Well, I’ve always been me, as far back as I remember,” Jal’tai responded, then laughed.

The blond boy’s eyes widened, and he exchanged significant looks with the other students. “What are you doing here?” he then asked, apparently the unofficial spokesman of the group.

“Well, young man, Mr. Layne here and I have a very important appointment with the staff to get to. I’m afraid we really must be moving along, as a matter of fact… Good day to you all, students!” he said, bidding them farewell as he began to lead Solonn away.

“Bye!” the blond boy called after Jal’tai. A couple of the other students echoed the farewell. Solonn looked over his shoulder and saw a few of them waving at him and Jal’tai, and he waved back.

As the halls began to empty once more, Jal’tai came to a stop at the doors of an elevator, and Solonn followed suit.

Systan Exeter’s class is on the top floor,” Jal’tai informed him. “Many of their old psychic students would simply teleport up there, but we’ll just have to make do with the elevator.” The doors soon opened, and the two stepped inside. “Just be glad you’re not being made to take the stairs,” Jal’tai said with a small laugh.

They arrived at the sixth floor, and Solonn found his nervousness peaking as they approached Exeter’s classroom. He tried to distract himself with his surroundings, his eyes darting over the framed photographs that lined the walls. They depicted various noteworthy people, from past and present educators at the academy to important figures in Convergence to people who had worldwide fame or accolade. They couldn’t hold his attention, however; his eyes soon turned forward once more and locked upon the swiftly approaching door.

“SYSTAN EXETER – INTENSIVE EDUCATION,” read the placard on the door. Jal’tai gave Solonn one last reassuring smile (which only slightly succeeded in its aim) and then pressed a button beside the doorknob. A faint tone sounded within the classroom.

“Come in,” a voice called from behind the door a moment later. It sounded strikingly similar to the soft chime of the doorbell, which surprised Solonn a bit.

Taking the cue, Jal’tai opened the door and took a single step inside, beckoning Solonn into the classroom ahead of him. With no small measure of apprehension, Solonn did as he was directed. Once he was inside, he saw Jal’tai close the door behind him; involuntarily, Solonn imagined it sealing itself shut and melting into the wall, trapping him inside.

Shaking such thoughts from his mind with only partial success, Solonn swept his gaze over the classroom. It was much smaller than he’d expected, and there was nothing at all on the pale blue walls. The classroom was almost entirely bare, in fact; it contained only a single desk and chair near the center, a longer desk up near the front on which there sat a number of unfamiliar devices, and a vast screen mounted on the wall above that desk.

There, hovering before that screen, was Systan Exeter themself. Solonn hadn’t really known what to expect his new teacher would actually be, but he was certain that nothing even remotely like the porygon2 he now beheld would have ever crossed his mind.

Exeter glided effortlessly toward Solonn, who went stock still as they approached him. “Welcome, Mr. Layne,” they said in their chiming voice as they stopped before him. They appeared to have nothing at all in the way of a mouth, and no other part of them moved when they spoke, either. Solonn found himself rather reminded of Oth, who hadn’t used a mouth to speak, either. The difference was that he could comprehend Exeter’s audible speech; they didn’t need to resort to telepathy.

Solonn knew that he couldn’t shake hands with Exeter since they didn’t have any. At a loss for any other way to greet the teacher, “…Hi,” he said somewhat awkwardly.

The porygon2 cocked their head slightly at Solonn, staring appraisingly at him through large, bright eyes. Finally, they lowered their head respectfully; when they looked up once more, there was something playing about their eyes that suggested a smile. “I’m most glad to meet you, Mr. Layne, and I’m even more pleased to be able to teach you.”

“…Thanks,” Solonn said, still gathering his wits.

Exeter made an odd, jingling sound that Solonn figured was laughter. Then they turned their attention toward Jal’tai. “You’re looking well today, Mr. Jal’tai,” they said.

“Why, thank you. You’re looking quite well, yourself,” Jal’tai returned.

Only then did it properly click that the porygon2 had referred to Jal’tai by his true name, his lati name, not the human name Jal’tai normally used in public. Solonn turned toward Jal’tai and saw that the latios had done away with his mirage and was now hovering there in his true form. He stared speechlessly at Jal’tai in surprise—Jal’tai revealed himself as he truly was to virtually no one, humans and pokémon alike.

Jal’tai noticed the way Solonn was staring at him. “No need to worry, Michael,” he assured him, interpreting that look correctly. “As I said, Systan Exeter and I go back quite a long way. They know me for who and what I truly am; they’re one of the very few here who do.”

Solonn’s gaze shifted between Jal’tai and Exeter, and he found himself feeling strangely singled-out all of a sudden. Those two knew each other by name, just as he knew them. The only identity that wasn’t known by everyone present was his own. Jal’tai had only referred to him by his human name in the porygon2’s presence. Exeter didn’t know the true identity of their new student, and Solonn wondered if they ever would.

“Say… why don’t you give him a little preview of what you have to offer him?” Jal’tai suggested.

The porygon2 gave another of their mouthless smiles. “Certainly!” they said brightly. They glided over to their desk and set themself down on a flat, gray, circular pad surrounded almost completely by the devices arranged there. Their eyes closed… and then, much to Solonn’s surprise, the porygon2 sparkled, became transparent, and then disappeared completely.

“What? …Where did they go?” Solonn hissed at Jal’tai.

The screen over the desk suddenly came awake, showing an image of Exeter in front of a flowing, liquid-looking, emerald green background. “I’m right here!” the porygon2 said cheerfully, their melodious voice magnified greatly.

Solonn could only stare at the screen that somehow contained the teacher. He might have asked Exeter how they’d done such a thing, but he found his brain and his mouth refusing to cooperate.

Exeter gave another of their peculiar little laughs at Solonn’s plain bewilderment. “Give me a subject,” they then said.

Solonn supposed that the teacher was addressing him and tried to think of something, but he was still a bit discombobulated; no suggestions came to mind.

“How about… dragons?” Jal’tai suggested once it was clear that Solonn was drawing a blank.

Apparently Exeter found Jal’tai’s suggestion particularly amusing; their musical laughter tinkled on for several seconds before subsiding. Once they fell silent again, the porygon2 nodded in acknowledgment. Exeter’s form then darkened to the green shade that surrounded them, their outline fading until the porygon2 blended into the background completely and vanished.

A second later, the flowing green field was replaced by a mountain range. Sweeping classical music began playing as a salamence suddenly surged upward from behind the mountains and began soaring over their peaks. The salamence rushed across the screen, filling its view completely; when it cleared, a desert scene was revealed, through which a pack of flygon sped along, their wings buzzing.

A few more cinematic scenes depicting different varieties of dragon pokémon in their natural environments played, then gave way to a screen on which small, three-dimensional representatives of numerous dragon species perched along the sides. Exeter returned to this screen at its center; some of the tiny dragons merely turned their heads toward the porygon2, while others among them hissed or growled at Exeter in disdain.

“Please select a species for further discussion,” the porygon2 prompted.

“Let’s have a look at the dragonite,” Jal’tai suggested.

Exeter acknowledged this and then turned toward the tiny dragonite at the upper right corner of the screen. The teacher, along with all of the other dragons, vanished as the dragonite increased in size, filling most of the screen. The dragon stood there at the center, where they remained as Exeter began describing that species in greater detail from offscreen. As the porygon2 continued narrating, the camera focused on the dragonite from several angles, and then the model of the dragon was replaced by a series of video clips of their species in action.

Exeter was also asked to talk about the salamence and drathlon species before Jal’tai decided that was enough for the day. The porygon2 closed the dragon program, then rematerialized within the classroom as the screen went blank once more.

“That was only a small example of the sort of lessons Systan Exeter has in store for you,” Jal’tai told Solonn then. “Now, this is not the only method they’ll employ; they’ll provide a variety of different lesson types.

“Also, I’m afraid that dragons won’t be a focal point of your education. I just really like that particular program,” he admitted with a chuckle. “Figured you might like it, too.”

Solonn nodded. It seemed learning under Systan Exeter might not be as unpleasant as he’d anticipated. At the very least, it looked as though it wouldn’t be as boring as he’d expected. Given the porygon2’s pleasant, even cheerful demeanor and what he’d seen of their teaching methods, he now imagined that the experience ahead of him might actually be kind of enjoyable.

“Well, I suppose we’ll be taking our leave now,” Jal’tai said. “I’ll let Michael have a look around the academy for a while longer, and then it’s off to enjoy a nice, relaxing evening.”

Exeter turned toward Solonn and smiled once again. “I hope you’ll enjoy your time here, Mr. Layne,” they said. “Farewell, and I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Goodbye,” Solonn said, and then followed Jal’tai out the door.
 
Last edited:
Chapter 18

Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
Location
*aurorus noise*
Partner
glalie
Chapter 18 – Heart of the City


Solonn had never been able to guess exactly what he could expect from his education. As it turned out, neither what Morgan had told him about her school nor the demonstrations he was given at the academy painted the full picture.

Solonn’s education included a particular emphasis on the history and inner workings of the International Pokémon League, the powerful organization that funded and managed the Convergence Project and to which he’d one day be in direct service. He was also trained in a variety of skills and subjects, and exposed to a number of human languages. He acquired the latter just as readily as he’d acquired pokémon languages in the past; all part of having the Speech, Jal’tai told him.

A day at school for him was nearly twice as long as it had been for Morgan, and unlike her, he had to attend classes seven days a week. Most of the students were offered vacations during the late winter, the spring, and the summer; he was not. He would only be allowed up to four days off each month; beyond that, he would only be excused by illness. While the time spent in class was long, the variety in the lessons, as well as the enthusiasm, patience, and understanding of the teacher, made the hours easier to endure than they might have been.

Neleng and her therapeutic mindsongs certainly helped, too. Solonn suspected that his new schedule might devour his sanity if it weren’t for the psychic oasis she provided for him every evening. He didn’t want to go a single day without her services, and she was all too happy to oblige.

On rare occasions, usually during Solonn’s short breaks from schoolwork, Jal’tai himself would instruct him. The latios liked to take Solonn on field trips throughout Convergence to get his successor as acquainted with the city as possible, and he always had stories to tell about the places they visited, having witnessed the establishment of many of them firsthand.

For nearly four years, Solonn was trained in this way. Finally, the day came when both the staff at the academy and Jal’tai himself agreed that he’d learned all he needed to know. According to them, he was now sufficiently prepared to take on this office—this new life—even if he could still barely believe it himself.

One late morning the following week found him in what was presently Jal’tai’s office and what would soon be his own—very soon. Once the witnesses arrived, the transfer of power would begin. Part of Solonn just wanted to get it over with. But for now, all he could do was wait, pacing back and forth across the circular room.

“You needn’t be working yourself into a frenzy, now,” Jal’tai told him evenly, perched oddly over his chair behind his desk. When the witnesses arrived, he’d need to put on his human disguise, but he wasn’t concerned about that for the time being. He had no reason to worry, and he knew it. He’d be given fair warning when his guests showed up; no one was allowed to simply barge into the mayor’s office unannounced. He only wished the human in his company could be at ease, too. “I’ve already explained what’s going to happen; it’s not going to be any big deal, really, I assure you.”

Solonn only grunted distractedly in response, then resumed the mantra he’d been repeating in his mind in an effort to keep his nerves in check. It wasn’t working as well as it had when he’d first started. Jal’tai had indeed outlined what he could expect, and it really was going to be a very simple and quiet affair. Regardless, his life was about to take a significant turn. The magnitude of that fact just wouldn’t let him coax it off of his shoulders.

He just hoped to all gods he’d be able to avoid fainting.

It was a small mercy when the witnesses finally showed up; at least he could stop anticipating their arrival. Four humans were admitted into the office; Solonn recognized them immediately as senior members of the IPL. There were two men and two women, all of them older and well-dressed. They were accompanied by none other than Exeter, who smiled brightly and proudly in their mouthless fashion as they hovered alongside the league representatives.

Jal’tai, now disguised as Rolf Whitley, rose from his chair and greeted his colleagues heartily. The representatives took a couple of minutes to exchange a few friendly words with him and to greet Solonn, as well. Then one of them produced a portfolio with a number of documents inside. He’d known this was coming, knew the contents of those documents nearly word-for-word. But it still seemed incredible that these pages could hold the power to transfer the leadership of an entire city.

The representative took the pages out and handed them to Solonn. They outlined a contract of sorts, binding him to the authority of the IPL and to service to their Convergence Project, while bestowing the right and authority to govern Convergence as a community that was independent from the rest of Hoenn. The documents also contained an oath of service to the city, and Solonn was made to read this and everything else in those documents aloud to prove that he acknowledged and understood it all.

Once Solonn had finished, he was told to set the documents down upon the desk. Jal’tai rearranged them so that the last page sat on top of the stack. One by one, the league members each signed their name on the topmost sheet. Systan Exeter came forward and signed the document as well, dipping the end of their “beak” into a small pot of ink and quickly writing their name in unown-script.

Soon, it was Solonn’s turn. Jal’tai handed him the pen, and Solonn stepped forward and let his gaze fall upon the empty line beneath the sweeping signature that spelled out Jal’tai’s human name. He could feel the slightest slick of sweat forming between his fingers and the pen, and the space around him seemed to have gone preternaturally silent save for the strong, persistent rhythm of his pulse pounding in his ears. He hoped the others in attendance weren’t too aware of his nervousness.

Convergence and its mission would present a considerable duty in the years to come. But for now, all that was being asked of him was a name written on piece of paper. Bearing this in mind in an effort to keep things in perspective, he drew a breath and set the pen to the paper. He didn’t exhale until his signature was shining back up at him in fresh, still-glistening ink.

He frowned at it slightly; it wasn’t particularly tidy, especially compared to Jal’tai’s. Solonn didn’t even think it resembled the way his human name looked in writing. Jal’tai had told him before that it was all right, that many people’s signatures only marginally resembled their written names. Still, the semi-legibility of his own signature bothered Solonn, moreso than usual.

“There you have it,” Jal’tai said softly from Solonn’s side. He took a rubber stamp that sat on his desk, pressed it into an inkpad, and stamped a blank space on the document with the pokéball emblem of the IPL in red ink. To the room at large, the latios said, “Let the records show that on this day, August the 26th, 2022, authority over the city of Convergence was hereby transferred from myself, Rolf Alan Whitley, to Michael Layne.”

The words reached Solonn with a delay, as did the smattering of polite, reserved applause that arose around him. With one simple act on his part, he’d signed his life away to this city and the cause for which it stood. In a ceremony that had lasted barely more than an hour, he had been given the reins of an entire community—and a mission that could bring about reform in societies all over the world and secure an everlasting place for himself in history.

Was that really it? he couldn’t help but wonder.

After a round of congratulations and farewells from the league representatives as well as from Exeter, the guests departed. Jal’tai resumed his true form, wearing the biggest smile he could manage.

“I’m more proud of you than I quite know how to express, my boy,” he said, almost breathless with joy.

“You’re proud of the fact that I read a few sheets of paper and then scribbled a name on one?” Solonn joked.

“Oh, you know better than that,” Jal’tai said lightheartedly, gently cuffing the human about the shoulder. “You’ve come a considerable way to get to this point. You’ve given years of your life to prepare yourself for this day. Your dedication to our cause is nothing short of wonderful,” he said rather dreamily.

Solonn gave the gushing latios a funny look. “Whatever you say,” he responded, leaning backwards against the desk and staring at his shoes.

“Here,” Jal’tai offered pleasantly, “why don’t you take a seat?” He gestured toward the large chair behind the desk. “It’s yours now, after all.”

“Yes,” Solonn acknowledged, feeling oddly weary and excited at the same time, “it is, isn’t it?” Unhurriedly, he strode around the desk and sat down in the chair. It wasn’t quite as comfortable as it had looked, but it was better than just standing around. His eyes swept over the desk; it was very tidy, and much of what was there specifically suited Jal’tai’s tastes. Solonn distantly wondered what the desk might look like after a few months in his possession.

“So, then. Have you memorized what you’re going to say?” Jal’tai asked then.

“Yes, I have,” Solonn responded promptly, resisting the urge to bite his tongue. What he’d had to memorize for his next task was really very short and simple, but nothing struck at his certainty like another person questioning it. He knew it was only meant as a friendly reminder, but it still bred some doubt within him. To try and avoid letting his mind stick on the matter, “How soon until they arrive?” he asked.

“Probably well within the next hour. They’ll want to get this done soon so it can be given the post-production treatment it’ll need,” Jal’tai answered.

“And this’ll air tonight?”

“Yes; they’ll be showing it during the evening news, as well as the nightly news. It’ll also air during commercial breaks over the next few days,” Jal’tai told him.

“Hm. Terrific,” Solonn said dryly. He noticed that his ponytail had fallen over his shoulder, and he idly fiddled with the hair for a moment before tossing it back behind himself. He’d let it grow quite a bit longer in recent months; it now hung a fair distance between his shoulder blades. He didn’t particularly like having it pulled back like this, but wearing it this way was just one of those things that, for whatever reason, was considered more befitting of an authority figure—much like the suit he was presently wearing. He still thought he looked silly in it. But he’d come to accept that occasionally submitting to absurd things that he couldn’t care less about was just part of being in a position of authority.

He mused on this and other random things as he waited for his next task to be upon him, trying not to overanalyze what he was about to do. He was left alone with his thoughts for a short while when Jal’tai put his mirage back on and excused himself for a few minutes; the latios had only just returned when the next guests arrived.

A small camera crew entered the office, consisting of a few humans alongside a blaziken cameraman who wore a rather ratty blue baseball cap backwards. They set up lights around the desk as Jal’tai positioned himself by the door, out of the shot. Without any warning, one of the humans came around the desk and attacked Solonn’s face with a bit of makeup, then scrutinized him for a second before scampering away. Solonn tried hard not to shoot her a funny look, but failed.

When things calmed down a bit more, the reality of the situation sank in all over again. An entire city would see what he was about to do. Some of them would probably see it more than once. The thought of it threatened to unnerve him, but he reminded himself that at least the eyes of the city weren’t actually there in the office with him. They’re not here, he reminded himself silently. Don’t think about them.

He was grateful for the brevity of the statement he was about to give; as one of the humans nearby began a countdown, he was able to quickly review it in his head one last time. He was also grateful that Jal’tai had offered to compose those words for him; it took at least some of the pressure off of him.

The countdown ended, and the camera began filming. Steeling himself imperceptibly, the human looked directly into the lens and spoke his very first words to the city as its leader.

“Hello, Convergence,” he said evenly, congenially. “My name is Michael Layne. On August 26th, I was appointed as your new mayor. In taking this office, I have pledged myself to the continuing efforts to keep this city alive and prospering, as well as toward the ultimate goal of bettering the entire world by our example here.

“I swear that I will ensure the maintenance of our city’s unparalleled harmony among all peoples, and I will lead us in our endeavor to promote equality in civilizations beyond Convergence. I am fully dedicated to our local well-being as well as to our city’s purpose on a greater scale.

“Though young and a newcomer to public office, I am ready, willing, and able to serve you. Rest assured that I will do all that I can to meet your needs and expectations. We now enter a new era in the history of Convergence, and we enter it together. Best wishes to you all and to our future.”

Oh, thank the gods… Solonn let out a sigh of relief once the crew was no longer filming, grateful that he’d managed to avoid tripping on his words. Now he could only hope that he hadn’t unwittingly pulled an odd face, or that the makeup artist wouldn’t decide he hadn’t looked right after all, or that nothing else that would require another take would happen. Thankfully, everyone seemed pleased with his performance and left without demanding a do-over.

“See? Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jal’tai said, dropping the mirage once more.

“Meh,” Solonn responded. “Of course, that’s not the last TV appearance I’ll have to make.”

“No, it certainly isn’t. I’m afraid many occasions of public speaking lie in your future, televised or otherwise,” Jal’tai said. “But then, you’ve known what came along with the job description for some time now, have you not?”

“I know…” Solonn responded somewhat airily. “I’m just glad I don’t have to do anything else of the sort today.” He sighed and reclined as far as his chair would allow. “I can’t wait for Neleng tonight, let me tell you…”

“Oh… Well… I’m afraid that tonight’s appointment with Neleng has been canceled,” Jal’tai informed him.

Solonn frowned worriedly. “What? Why?”

“Something has come up,” Jal’tai answered noncommittally.

Solonn gave Jal’tai a concerned and rather suspicious look. “Why don’t I like the sound of this?”

“I haven’t a clue, but I suspect that like everything else you’ve been through today, it won’t be quite the tribulation you expect.” Jal’tai put his human disguise back on and made for the door, but stopped just short of exiting. “Don’t worry about it for now, all right? Why don’t we go get some nice lunch, hmm?”

Still a bit wary of whatever the latios was conspicuously omitting from discussion, Solonn didn’t respond to the offer right away. Finally, “Sure,” he said, then rose from his seat. As he accompanied Jal’tai out of the office, he wondered if he might manage to coax some information out of the latios over lunch.


* * *​


It was late afternoon, and Solonn was sitting alone back at his suite with the television on, though not really watching it. He’d had no luck in finding out what had changed his plans for the night; Jal’tai had simply sat (or rather perched) there during lunch, smiling in a knowing manner over first his sandwiches and then his parfait, somehow managing to redirect the conversation whenever it tried to turn toward the coming evening.

Jal’tai’s evasiveness had persisted throughout the rest of the day, all the way up to the point when he’d brought Solonn back to the Convergence Inn; then, vaguely mentioning that he had very important things to attend to, the latios had departed his company.

Now Solonn had little else to do but sit there with one abysmally boring program or another blaring at him and the same host of questions endlessly circling his mind. What in the world was going to happen that night? How could he be kept in the dark about something so important that he’d had to cancel anything else he’d wanted to do that evening? How much longer would he continue living in this hotel suite now that he was the mayor? And why had whoever made sitcoms like the one currently playing thought that adding disembodied laughter to the program would make it any funnier?

Finally unable to endure any more of it, Solonn turned the TV off. Just as soon as he’d done so, he received a peculiar message from the computerized voice of the suite.

“Please stand on the transport tile and wait,” it instructed him.

Perplexed, Solonn was initially unsure about following the instructions, vaguely wondering why he was being asked to do such a thing. He decided quickly enough that he might as well go along with it, though, and soon he was doing as he was told.

The tile activated, and he found himself in the corridor outside—and not alone. Standing there was a uniformed man with salt-and-pepper hair: the chauffeur employed to drive him and Jal’tai around town.

“Follow me, sir,” the chauffeur said simply, then turned and made for the nearby elevator with no further instructions or explanation. Though growing more baffled by the minute by what was going on, Solonn quickly followed the man into the elevator and then out of the hotel to the waiting vehicle.

Solonn eventually arrived at a relatively modest but nonetheless stately mansion. Having been brought here several times over the past couple of years, Solonn recognized this place at once. This was where Jal’tai lived.

The chauffeur stepped out of the car, then let Solonn out. He escorted Solonn up the walkway, stepping aside only when they reached the front doors. Almost as soon as they’d stopped there, the doors burst open—and Solonn was immediately blasted by an explosion of confetti.

Surprise!” shouted countless voices in unison.

For a very long moment, Solonn could only stare wildly at the mirage-human standing just inside the door. Then he shook off the black and gold flecks of paper covering him (most of them, anyway), spat out a few more, and demanded, “What in the world was that for?”

Very slowly, a smile crept across Jal’tai’s presently human face, spreading into a full Cheshire grin. He then burst into uproarious laughter. “You silly boy, it’s for you! Come on in,” he said, stepping back a bit. Still eying Jal’tai warily, Solonn followed him into the mansion.

Thankfully, there were no more startling surprises once he entered Jal’tai’s home. But there were more pleasant surprises about. He’d always thought Jal’tai kept a nice household, but the latios had outdone himself tonight. Everything in sight had been tastefully decorated in black, silver, and gold.

As Solonn went further into the house, he lost count of all the guests, some of whom he knew locally or recognized as league representatives, while others were completely unfamiliar. Friends of Jal’tai he hadn’t met before, Solonn figured.

Music began playing and grew louder as he continued to follow Jal’tai. He found its source at one end of a spacious living room. A seven-piece, multispecies band was playing the sort of light, easygoing jazz that Jal’tai liked.

But soon after Solonn entered the room, they stopped playing. The guests’ chattering ceased, and soon all eyes were on Jal’tai and Solonn, who had made their way to the center of the room.

“Our guest of honor has arrived!” Jal’tai announced needlessly, beaming at the crowd. The moment the words left his mouth, the guests all erupted into applause. Solonn winced, expecting another confetti attack or some other, equally bizarre surprise from the guests. Luckily they seemed content to merely applaud him—until Jal’tai decided to lead them in a cheer, which Solonn endured with a somewhat forced smile.

At Jal’tai’s cue, the band went back to work, striking up a livelier tune than they’d been playing before, and the guests went back to milling amongst themselves. Jal’tai took a few moments to systematically hunt down every person Solonn hadn’t been introduced to yet and rectify that unfamiliarity, then shepherded Solonn over to a presently unoccupied sofa, asking the nearest person to go fetch them a couple of drinks as they took their seats.

“So. What do you think of this little surprise I put together for you, hmm?” Jal’tai then asked Solonn.

What Solonn thought was that it was kind of an odd surprise. But it was the thought that counted, after all; so, “It’s nice,” he said, nodding approvingly. “How long were you planning this?”

“Well, I always knew I wanted to do something special for you when this day finally arrived,” Jal’tai answered, smiling. “As for the elements of the party itself, the invitations were sent out just over a week ago, around the time the decorations were purchased, and I booked the band over the weekend. Saved them from having to play another wedding, the lucky souls,” he added with a laugh.

Solonn responded wordlessly, and the two were silent for a little while after that, watching the band, watching the crowd. The man who’d been sent after drinks returned; Jal’tai and Solonn took them and thanked him before he disappeared into the crowd. Jal’tai stared into his drink for a moment, seemingly deep in thought. He took a small sip of it, then turned to Solonn with an unreadable expression.

“I’ll be leaving town tomorrow morning,” Jal’tai told him, sounding rather hoarse all of a sudden.

It took a moment for those words to sink in. Even once they had, Solonn was at a loss for how to react. He’d known for some time that Jal’tai had planned to leave Convergence once he was no longer its leader, but Solonn hadn’t expected that he’d leave this soon after stepping down.

“After I leave, this will be your home, of course,” Jal’tai went on. “I’ll help you move in tomorrow. It won’t be any real trouble for me—I’ve decided to leave much of what’s here to you, so it’s not as though I’ll really have much in the way of moving myself out to bother with.”

Somewhat overwhelmed, Solonn just sat silently for moments on end. The way things were unfolding was strangely difficult to get his head around; after years spent preparing for the life he was only just now entering, everything suddenly seemed to be happening so fast…

“Are you all right, my boy?” Jal’tai asked, concerned.

“…I’m fine,” Solonn responded after a pause. He hesitated again, then admitted, “Part of me does kind of wish I’d known when you were leaving a little further in advance, though…”

Jal’tai smiled sadly. “I’d certainly have told you if I’d been sure of it myself.” He sighed. “I’ll admit I’d been procrastinating over the matter for longer than I should have. I’ve been… reluctant to leave my city,” he all but whispered. “In the end, I knew that if I didn’t simply go, then I might not be able to bring myself to do it—hence the last minute decision. I’m terribly sorry if this inconveniences you in any way…”

“No… no, it’s not a problem at all,” Solonn assured him quickly. It was obvious enough that the decision to leave Convergence behind had been supremely difficult for Jal’tai; though the human mirage that Jal’tai wore revealed only moderate sadness, Solonn strongly suspected that the latios behind that façade was on the verge of tears. He didn’t want to let Jal’tai feel even remotely guilty for springing this news on him on such short notice; Solonn felt rather sorry for even mentioning that the lack of advance warning had bothered him. He also didn’t have the heart to question why the latios found it necessary to leave, though he certainly wondered. Knowing as he did how having a resolution questioned could shake it apart, Solonn mindfully kept that question to himself.

Jal’tai held Solonn’s gaze with faint relief, then gave an earnest, albeit weary smile, grateful for Solonn’s understanding. He knew that the human at his side would never realize just how much of his unspoken compassion was being recognized, having been kept ignorant of Jal’tai’s psychic qualities ever since having his memory rewritten. But it was recognized indeed, and greatly appreciated.

“Oh, look at me,” Jal’tai said, his voice still cracking a bit, “glooming up your nice party like that; shame on me! Come on,” he suggested in a slightly brighter tone as he stood, “why don’t we go mingle a bit more?”

Though still somewhat concerned for Jal’tai, sure that the matter of his departure was still weighing heavily upon him, Solonn humored the latios’s pretense of lightening up. Throughout the rest of that evening and well into the night, he chatted with the guests, took in the music, and accepted the gifts that the attendees had brought for him, and he managed to appear to enjoy it all. All the while, though, the better part of his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of would soon befall both him and the latios who’d preceded him—what one would gain and what the other would lose.

* * *​

The August sun shone brightly, bearing down on Convergence from high in the sky. It was just before noon, but to Solonn it felt like it could have been almost any daylight hour; he hadn’t slept the night before.

He stood there in front of the mansion that was soon to be his own, distantly staring at the lone moving truck parked at the end of the driveway and the plain black car parked behind that truck. A pair of movers made trips back and forth between the truck and the house, bringing a few of Solonn’s things in, hauling a few of Jal’tai’s things out. It wasn’t long at all before the job was finished; Solonn didn’t own much, and there were very few of Jal’tai’s possessions that the latios hadn’t opted to leave behind.

Shortly after the last of Solonn’s belongings were brought into the mansion, Jal’tai emerged wordlessly alongside the movers. He stopped beside Solonn, remaining silent for several moments, staring pensively into the sky.

“My Goddess, how I’m going to miss this place…” he finally whispered.

Solonn said nothing in response, casting a somber gaze downward. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a very faint shimmering; when he looked toward its source, he saw that Jal’tai had resumed his true form.

“I’ve taken the veil off of your eyes only,” Jal’tai assured Solonn before the latter could raise any concerns. “This is most likely the last we’ll ever see of one another… I want your final memories of me to be as I truly am.”

He laid his taloned hands upon Solonn’s shoulders and sighed heavily. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he held the human’s gaze, and a warm, broad smile slowly curved across his face. “You’ve come such a long way from the day I first met you,” he said wistfully. “You’ve made me so very proud, my dear boy, prouder than I’ve ever been of anyone in my entire life. I know in my heart that you’ll take good care of my city, that you’ll serve and guide it with as much love and devotion as I always did…”

At those words, Jal’tai could hold back his tears no longer. In a sudden motion, he wrapped his arms around Solonn in a long embrace. Solonn closed his eyes, feeling his own tears escape as he held on to the silently weeping latios.

“I will miss my city,” Jal’tai breathed, “but I will miss you even more.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” Solonn responded truthfully, realizing now more than ever just how much he’d miss the latios once he was gone.

At length, Jal’tai finally let go of Solonn, slowly drifting backward from him. There was sorrow showing plainly through his features, but there was also pride, and it showed stronger still. “Take care, my boy,” he said softly. “You are the heart of this city now.”

Solonn nodded in acknowledgment. “You take care, too,” he said, his voice brittle.

Jal’tai smiled at him. “Farewell,” he said.

“Farewell,” Solonn returned.

Slowly, reluctantly, the latios turned away. He glided silently over the driveway, stopping to hover above the black car, invisible to all but Solonn. Everyone else present saw a human mirage get into the back of the car. The engines hummed to life, and the two vehicles began to move out. Jal’tai gave one last, wistful look behind, then followed them away.

Through tears, Solonn watched Jal’tai vanish beyond the horizon. With the latios gone, Convergence had truly fallen into Solonn’s hands, and he felt the weight of that burden more than ever now that he carried it alone. As he turned away and entered his new home, he couldn’t help but disagree with some of Jal’tai’s parting words. Solonn was now the leader of this city, but in truth, Jal’tai would always be its heart.
 
Last edited:
Chapter 19

Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
Location
*aurorus noise*
Partner
glalie
Chapter 19 – A Sight for Sore Eyes


Restlessly, he soared, his weary eyes sweeping the land below. He’d done next to nothing else for months now, stopping only to tend to his physical needs, never staying in any one place for long.

A few months prior, he’d returned to his homeland, his work finally finished. There, he’d brought himself before the rulers of his people, who’d ordered him to do immense good in the world to atone for the crime he’d committed so long ago. He’d testified about all the work he’d done and the fruit it had yielded, hoping it would satisfy their demands.

Of course, he’d been very selective about what he’d let them see—they didn’t need to know how certain of his achievements had come about. His censored version of events had nearly fooled them, too. But he’d overestimated his ability to bend the truth in ways that favored him—and underestimated the silent, indignant protests that had lain deep within his own conscience.

Upon learning the whole truth, they’d sentenced him to a permanent exile. They’d rendered him physically unable to return to his native land, and they’d barred him likewise from the places where his greatest crimes had been committed and where those he’d harmed the most were likely to go.

And so, from the day he was cast out into the world, he did nothing but wander. He was tormented both night and day by thoughts and dreams of how things might’ve turned out differently. He tended to drift in circles, passing over the same areas so often that eventually he became familiar with the kinds of things that went on in those places.

Thus he readily noticed that something was off today. His interest piqued, he descended to investigate. The scene that he found was as troubling as it was perplexing, if not moreso. He tried to remedy the situation, but even his most potent and sophisticated techniques proved useless.

His mind raced with questions as he left the area, hoping to find a solution or aid elsewhere. Instead he found a scene identical to the one he’d just left behind. A search of the entire region only yielded more of the same, a widespread problem that neither he nor anyone else around could solve.

Driven by a dark suspicion, he made for another part of the world entirely, praying for things to be well there. To his immense sorrow and fear, this region—fully separated from the one he’d just left behind—was swiftly and steadily going the way of the one before.

The scope of this phenomenon was all too clear, and he was powerless to stop or undo it—a notion that sickened him to his core. And yet… it wasn’t that there was truly nothing he could do. It was just that he could only do very little. With only enough power to protect a precious few, it became a matter of deciding whom he’d try and reach.

He barely had to give it any thought before he knew where he wished to begin. Without another moment’s hesitation, he shattered a bond of power between himself and someone nearly half a world away.


* * *​


Months had passed since Solonn had become the mayor of Convergence and Jal’tai had retired from the International Pokémon League, and the IPL had been pleased with Solonn’s service throughout that time. The city prospered under his guidance just as it had under his predecessor; it seemed Convergence was capable of thriving under virtually any leadership.

Confident in Solonn’s abilities and competence, as well as in the stability of his city, the IPL had thus decided that the next phase of the Convergence Project could commence. It was time to begin revealing the integrated community to the public.

The league in its entirety would learn of the city before the world at large could, starting with those in the highest ranks and working downward from there. The Apex League, the highest echelon of the IPL’s organized battle division, had known about the Convergence Project from the start, as had the governing bodies outside of the IPL. Regional champions and elite trainers became privy to its existence shortly thereafter. The next step would be to inform the lower IPL members, those who operated at the city level.

The various forms of pokémon-based competition that the International Pokémon League presided over were all seeing a lot of action at the time, as usual. Getting a hold of even a single region’s league members all at once was therefore impractical. The IPL had thus decided to set up one-on-one meetings around the schedules of the lower-ranking members, letting them in on the Convergence Project when they weren’t tangled up in other business.

Solonn had been told he could introduce his city himself if he so wished. He could either convene with the lower IPL members via satellite, or he could meet with them in person. The IPL had decided that none of them would actually be allowed into the city itself until they’d been properly briefed.

Solonn had rather liked the idea of going places he’d never seen before. Being new to the IPL as he was, his superiors had kept him busier than his predecessor had been in the same office, wanting to see if he was truly league material. Solonn’s service to the Convergence Project generally kept him bound to the city that he led; he only ever left Convergence on IPL business, such as he was doing now. Any chance to step out of town, however briefly, was greatly appreciated, and so he’d gladly opted to speak with the lower-ranking members in person.

His tour would take him to every city in which the IPL had any presence: any place where there was a gym, a breeding center, a pokémon laboratory—or a contest hall. So it was that today, he’d be going to a place that somehow he’d never really expected to see again: Lilycove.

He’d thought about the people he’d known there often since he’d fled the city, wondering what had become of them and what would become of them. But from the moment he’d taken on the role of Jal’tai’s successor and the form that came with it, he’d doubted that he’d ever have anything to do with those people again.

Such thoughts were first and foremost on Solonn’s mind again as he stood waiting for his personal teleporter. Solonn knew he wouldn’t be in town for long; this was strictly a business trip, and he’d be leaving Lilycove as soon as his work there was done. It was therefore unlikely he’d see anyone he’d known while he was there, not out of a large city that was home to thousands of people.

Besides which, it had been years since he’d had anything to do with any of them. For all he knew, the humans he’d known in Lilycove—as well as the pokémon, if they’d been rescued—might have moved somewhere else during that time. Maybe Morgan and her family had determined that they’d be safer if they left the city, too.

“The guy’s sure taking his time, isn’t he?” remarked a voice to his immediate left. Solonn turned slightly to acknowledge Byron, a bodyguard hired to escort him during his travels. He was shorter than Solonn, but much broader. His muscle-bound physique was probably meant to be intimidating, but his slightly untidy, ash-blond hair and his round, smiling face counteracted that a bit. The bodyguard held a manila folder containing dossiers filled with information about Convergence; Solonn would use them as visual aids in his presentation.

“Cliff will be ready soon enough, I’m sure,” Solonn responded, hoping he was right even as he spoke—he wanted to get to Lilycove as soon as possible. But he stayed patient for the most part, knowing that the wait would be just as long, if not longer, if he went with a different mode of transportation. Whatever Cliff was doing at the moment could be excused; the convenience he provided was well worth the wait.

“Sorry about the wait,” said a clefable with an acid-green belt bag strapped around his waist. It was Cliff, who’d just entered the lobby from a nearby restroom; neither Solonn nor Byron had even known he’d been in there.

The clefable walked up to Solonn and Byron, motioning for them to draw very close to him to make sure they were both caught in his teleportation field—an unnecessary action, since both of the humans had gone through this routine several times before. They were already moving toward Cliff as he approached.

“Okay, Lilycove, is it?” Cliff asked. Solonn nodded. “All right, let’s see… that’s about, oh, two hundred miles south-by-southeast of here, right?”

Solonn gave Cliff a weary, halfhearted glare. The clefable had insisted making the exact same joke prior to the past few teleportations. Byron was lucky that he couldn’t understand Cliff; it spared him from having to suffer the old “I have no idea where we’re supposed to be going” bit.

“Nah, I know where it is; you know I’m just playing with you,” Cliff said, taking a moment to laugh at his own joke before proceeding. He then closed his eyes, and after a moment’s focus, a teleportation field swept the three travelers out of the lobby of the Convergence Tower and into the parking lot of their destination.

The moment Solonn materialized in Lilycove, his gaze traveled upward along the face of the building that now filled almost his entire view. The Lilycove Contest Hall was almost exactly as he remembered it; it only lacked the crisper definition that his glalie eyes had offered. He stood staring at it for seconds on end, transfixed by the feelings and memories that the sight of it brought back.

“You two just go on in and take care of business while I have a smoke, all right?” Cliff spoke up then, breaking Solonn’s reverie. Without bothering to wait for any sort of reply, the clefable pulled a lighter and a pack of cigarettes out of his belt bag.

“They’re not going to let you do that…” Solonn muttered, to no response from Cliff. At every single stop on this tour so far, Cliff had tried to take a cigarette break outside whatever IPL building Solonn had been visiting. The people who worked there had reprimanded the clefable for it every time.

The contest hall’s doors opened, and a red-haired woman in a navy blue pantsuit stepped out. She trotted quickly toward Solonn and Byron on her high heels, offering a hand to the former before she’d even come to a stop before him.

“Hi, good afternoon! I’m Mrs. Penn, the director of Lilycove’s contest hall, but you can call me Meredith,” she introduced, telling Solonn nothing her name tag hadn’t already. Her gaze shifted toward Cliff, who was leaning against the building and smoking in silence with an odd sort of pensive look on his face. “That clefable should know this is a no-smoking zone,” Meredith said with a frown.

Cliff shot an annoyed glance at the director. “Just call the office when you’re ready for me to come and get you,” he told Solonn, then left the scene in a golden flash.

“Come on then, right this way…” Meredith said once Cliff had left, motioning toward the doors before passing through them. Solonn followed her in at once, with Byron close at his side.

Outside, the contest hall had looked more or less like Solonn remembered it. The inside was another story. Everything was still in its old place: the receptionist’s desk; the posters on the wall; the large doors leading into the auditorium; and the smaller, more secluded entrance to the backstage area for the performers’ use. But the atmosphere was much more subdued than it had ever been. He’d simply never seen it so empty before—there was no contest today, no excited people waiting for the show to begin.

The contrast from what he remembered was strangely unsettling. He tried to maintain his focus, to keep his mind on the matter at hand rather than on the past. But in a place like this, where such vivid memories had been forged, he couldn’t help but think of the times he’d spent here—as well as the person he’d shared them with.

Once again, he wondered if Morgan still lived in Lilycove. If so, where was she now? What was she doing? And was she ever reunited with her other friends? He frowned in spite of himself, his gaze dropping to the floor. It pained him that he’d leave Lilycove with those questions unanswered.

It also pained him to know that he’d returned here safely, but they would never know it.

Lost in those thoughts, he almost didn’t notice when Meredith stopped before them, having arrived at her office in the very back of the building. He followed her in without a word, taking the seat provided for him in front of the director’s desk, while Byron stood silently beside him.

The bodyguard handed Solonn the folder. Solonn let his gaze linger upon it for a second, then opened it. Before he could take anything out of it, a rather nasty itch overtook his eyes out of nowhere. He set the folder down on the desk; “One moment, please,” he said, and began rubbing at his eyes. He managed to tame the irritation quickly enough, though his eyes still watered a bit afterward.

“Oh, allergies?” Meredith asked. “I sympathize; I get them too around this time of year.”

“Huh. Well, normally, I don’t,” he told Meredith, then began blinking rapidly in an effort to stave off another impending itch. “It could be something in the air around here, I suppose.”

“Mm, could be,” Meredith said with a shrug. “Tissue?” she offered, gesturing toward a box of them that sat on her desk.

“No, but thank you,” Solonn said. He figured he could do without one as long as his nose didn’t decide to get involved. “So.” He picked the folder back up and began sifting through it. “I assume you’ve been given some idea of why I’ve come here today, yes?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Meredith confirmed, nodding. “They mentioned some sort of major project the league’s put together. They didn’t go into details… Are you sure you don’t need a tissue?” she asked again, more concernedly this time, for Solonn’s eyes were clearly bothering him once again.

Solonn gave a noncommittal reply as he rubbed his eyes, harder this time and seemingly in vain.

“Actually, maybe you ought to try and rinse those out,” the director suggested. “The men’s room is up the hall to the right; I’ll wait here while you take care of that.”

“Good idea,” Solonn said, rising from his seat and passing the folder to Byron as the two of them left the room. Solonn had to fight to keep his eyes open; the itch was growing worse by the second. He made his way to the restroom as quickly as he could, halting Byron when the bodyguard tried to enter the room along with him.

“You can stay out here,” Solonn told him, wincing and screwing his eyes shut. They no longer merely itched. Now they burned. “I doubt there’s anyone in there, and I’ll only be a moment.” With that, he stepped into the restroom and shut the door behind him, then forced his eyes open long enough to spot the sinks and rush toward them.

Solonn gritted his teeth as he quickly shoved his hands underneath one of the motion sensors. He gathered handfuls of cool water and brought them to his eyes, rinsing them out vigorously. But rather than relenting, the searing pain only worsened. Soon, it became so intense that it took all he had not to cry out.

The water shut off as he clutched his forehead, the pain stabbing into his eyes and skull so brutally that he couldn’t even think to wonder what was wrong with him. But then… just as unexpectedly as it had come, the pain subsided, fading mercifully quickly until it was nothing more than a dull throb.

Not quite daring to trust the relief at first, Solonn opened his eyes very slowly. He had to quell an immediate urge to close them again; the light in the room seemed brighter, harsher than before. He leaned over the sink for a few moments, trying to relax after his ordeal. Then he lifted his head and straightened his posture once more. When he did, his reflection in the mirror above the sink told him exactly what had been wrong with his eyes.

This time, he couldn’t stifle a scream.

The face before him shook with shock and fear, staring wildly back at him with piercing blue eyes—glalie eyes.

How…? No, this can’t be happening now! he tried to convince himself in fearful confusion. But the truth couldn’t be denied. Jal’tai’s transfigure technique was wearing off—years before it was supposed to.

The door burst open; Solonn immediately turned to prevent anyone from seeing what had happened to his eyes. “What’s going on?” Byron demanded tensely.

Solonn hesitated to answer. He’d kept the fact that he wasn’t truly human a strict secret all this time. He’d never intended to reveal it, unsure of whether or not the citizens could handle the truth. Jal’tai, as it happened, had already thought of this, and had assured Solonn that the plan that he’d formulated to deal with this issue would go off without a hitch.

In a few years, around when the transfiguration was supposed to wear off, Solonn was supposed to name a local glalie as his future successor—the very glalie he’d happen to become upon his reversion. After Michael vanished without a trace, Solonn would take his place, in a manner of speaking. By that time, society might be accepting of a pokémon in a position of leadership.

But things weren’t going according to plan. Here Solonn was, cornered, with his secret betraying itself. He hadn’t had the warning he’d been assured of, and now there was no time to set up a smooth transition of power from the person he’d pretended to be to the person he actually was.

The only way he could think of to keep his position was if someone could see that the pokémon he was becoming and the human he’d been were, in fact, the same person. Someone would have to witness his change, and that someone would have to be Byron. He could only hope the bodyguard wouldn’t react too adversely to what he was about to see.

“Sir… what’s going on?” Byron asked again. Solonn heard him take a couple of steps closer.

As Solonn braced himself for the revelation he was about to give, he saw the skin on his hands turn a dark, flat gray, toughening all the while. The truth could wait no longer.

“Don’t be alarmed,” Solonn said as calmly as he could manage and far moreso than he felt. “I’ll explain everything later… Just please, call Cliff. Now,” he commanded flatly, and then he turned around.

Solonn saw the look on Byron’s face instantly turn from concern to shock as their eyes met. Byron stared speechlessly as he watched a human being turn gray as graphite right in front of him, a human being who looked back at him through glowing eyes. He stepped back from Solonn, tension written all over his stance.

“What… what the hell…” the bodyguard stammered, his voice trailing off. His eyes didn’t move, locked on to Solonn with an alert stare. His arm twitched, his hand moving to his side, where a handgun and a stun gun were concealed under his jacket.

Solonn noticed this, but tried not to let his gaze shift conspicuously toward the weapons. He strongly doubted that Byron would shoot him, but the bodyguard might stun him if he thought Solonn was losing control of himself and posing a threat. The fact that Byron hadn’t resorted to either weapon on first sight told Solonn that the human still recognized him, at least. He’d probably still listen to Solonn as long as they both kept their heads.

“No time to explain,” Solonn said. Then he gasped in shock and doubled over as something horribly cold struck deep into his bones. “Just call Cliff,” he urged almost voicelessly. “Please, hurr—ahhhh!” He collapsed to his knees as pain like hammer blows struck his temples. His hands flew up and clutched his head—his horns had just erupted.

Dizzy with pain and shivering violently, Solonn lifted his head with an effort and looked up at Byron through eyes that streamed with tears. The bodyguard had backed up even further, standing right at the door and still staring warily at Solonn, but there was also a hint of genuine concern in his eyes. One of Byron’s hands still hovered near his weapons, but the other now held his phone. Come on… Solonn urged him silently, so cold that he could barely catch his breath. Call… please, for the gods’ sakes, call!

And then a strange, potent sensation took hold of Solonn. A familiar sensation. After years of separation, he’d returned to the embrace of his mother element. In the midst of his agony, the reunion was a wonderful escape. He quickly and completely lost himself in it.

Solonn was utterly unaware of the sudden, intensely white flare in his eyes. He didn’t notice the massive, involuntary release of ice-type energy that accompanied it until it rent the air with a sharp, resounding crack.

The sound snapped Solonn out of his elemental ecstasy in an instant. The scene surrounding him returned to focus. There before him, a partially ice-glazed man stood fixed in a startled stance with an expression of sudden terror, no longer moving—or breathing.

“Oh… oh gods…” Solonn said in a brittle voice, staring aghast at the man he’d just inadvertently flash-frozen. His newly formed heat-vision told him that not even the slightest hint of Byron’s warmth still remained. Solonn’s element had returned before he was ready and able to control it—as a result, someone had just died by his hand.

Shaking in horror as well as unrelenting pain, Solonn tried to get up and away from the scene, but his body couldn’t respond. His joints were beginning to lock and fuse together. Faint light swelled into his vision; a soft, sea green glow was now emanating from every square inch of his skin. The green light suddenly intensified in an almost blinding surge, and with the sickening sound of crunching bones, Solonn’s arms and legs collapsed in on themselves, absorbed into his body in a single, violent instant. A split-second later, his spine shortened, a change that was less sudden but no less painful.

Solonn’s reversion accelerated further, and the agony of it was greater than any he’d ever known before. As his body expanded, reproportioned, and reconfigured in wrenching, spasmodic bursts, his pain manifested itself through an involuntary ice display. The ice that glued Byron’s legs to the floor spread rapidly over every surface of the room and formed jagged spires that jutted out all around their maker.

Solonn almost couldn’t perceive anything other than the pain that consumed him. He could barely do anything of his own accord except to beg the gods to end his suffering soon. As if in answer to his prayers, his mother element sent another surge of power through him, one that rebounded back upon him with another loud crack. No sooner than he’d heard it, he fell unconscious.
 
Last edited:
Chapter 20

Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
Location
*aurorus noise*
Partner
glalie
Chapter 20 – Silence in the East


The next thing Solonn was aware of was a steady humming, one that grew louder as he finished reconnecting to his senses. The pain he’d known prior to losing consciousness awakened along with him, but it was far weaker now, barely more than a dull ache. As his wits returned, he remembered what had caused it; it flared up a bit at the memory.

Then he remembered the eyes that had stared back at him emptily after he’d stolen the life from behind them.

His eyes flew open, and he sat up in alarm, his heart pounding and his stomach turning as he recalled what he’d done. He realized at once that he wasn’t where he’d last been and that he was apparently alone here. A soft, off-white light glow filled his vision, shining from all sides. There were dark walls and the flashing indicators of some unidentifiable equipment some distance before him, and as his eyes focused and made out the finer details of these things, he realized the glow wasn’t coming from them. It was coming from a wall of energy that stood between him and everything else in this place, one of many such walls that fully enclosed him.

Solonn rose somewhat awkwardly from the floor, lowered his head slightly, and experimentally prodded the energy barrier with one of his horns. It gave him a nasty shock, which did nothing to calm his nerves. He realized he was in a containment field, imprisoned within some place he didn’t even remotely recognize, and he had a terrible feeling that he knew why. Someone must have opened that restroom door and found him there along with the man he’d just killed, and now he was being held captive for the life he’d taken.

With a very heavy heart, Solonn sank to the floor and closed his eyes in deep, solemn thought. Where would he be if Byron were still alive, and what would have followed? Would he be kept in this place forever… and if so, what would befall Convergence? If neither Michael nor the pokémon he truly was were there to lead its citizens, then who could?

Through closed eyelids, Solonn just managed to perceive a brief surge in the lighting around him. It was so quick that he could have easily imagined it, but he opened his eyes anyway. What he saw surprised him to no small degree.

Bathed in the soft light of the force field, surrounded by the aura of her own body heat, Sei Salma glowed like an apparition. Her deep blue eyes were unreadable as she gazed upon him, her mustache drooping in an expression that resembled a frown but suggested far more.

“It really is you,” she all but whispered. “I’d given up on ever seeing you again… and yet here you are.”

“Sei?” Solonn asked incredulously, his eyes widening; the alakazam nodded. “Gods, I thought I’d never see you again, either!” Solonn exclaimed almost breathlessly, a surge of relief managing to rise within him despite everything else that weighed upon him. “I’m so glad that you’re safe… but what about the others? Were they also rescued from our abductors?”

Sei’s brows drew tightly together. “What? Solonn… none of us were never abducted,” she said, sounding concerned.

Troubled confusion came over the glalie’s features. “…You were, though,” he insisted. “We all were, more than four years ago.”

“No, Solonn,” Sei said quietly. “No one was taken that day except for you.”

Solonn stared at Sei in disbelief. How in the world she could fail to recall her abduction? Maybe the kidnappers had damaged her memory when they’d overcome her psychic abilities… “That can’t be true,” he said. “Morgan told me what happened when she found where they were keeping me.”

Sei said nothing in response to that, holding Solonn in a deeply troubled gaze as she stood in silence. Her eyes narrowed, her stare sharpening. Then she abruptly turned on her heel and sent a brilliant, multicolored wave of psychic energy crashing into the equipment behind her. There was a series of loud popping and hissing noises, and the indicator lights on the devices flickered wildly before going out. A small plume of smoke rose from the ruined equipment, and the containment field surrounding Solonn disappeared.

The room was now very dark, but Solonn could still see Sei as she turned to face him, her expression unreadable once more.

A beat later, “Come here,” she said soberly.

Growing more worried and confused by the second, Solonn rose from the spot and drifted over to her. “What’s the matter?” he asked softly.

Sei sighed. “I thought I sensed something abnormal about your mental signature,” she said. “Now with that element-suppressing field out of the way, there’s no doubt about it. Solonn… someone or something has tampered with your mind.”

“…What?” Solonn said almost voicelessly. “But… how? What do you mean by ‘tampered’? What could have possibly been done to me?”

“A number of things,” Sei answered, taking a step closer to Solonn. “If you’ll allow me to investigate your mind, I can find out exactly what’s been done to it. I will warn you that it would involve opening your mind to me completely, including giving me access to your thoughts and memories.”

Giving another person free access to his mind was a fairly discomfiting notion. But the idea that his mind could’ve been tampered with without his knowledge disturbed him even more. He could still barely believe such a thing could’ve happened; he couldn’t even begin to imagine when, where, or how. But he trusted Sei and her psychic perceptions—if she said something had been done to him, there was a very good chance she was right.

“Go ahead,” he said.

Sei gave a quick nod of acknowledgment. Indigo light filled her eyes, and she went utterly still, barely even breathing. Solonn noticed a definite something within his mind as Sei got to work, something like a nagging, unbidden thought. Whatever she was doing to him wasn’t painful or even uncomfortable—just very distracting. She moved too quickly through his mindscape for him to track her exact actions there, but the foreignness of her presence wouldn’t let him abandon the pursuit.

After only a few moments, she withdrew, the glow fading from her eyes. “My word… what a strange and incredible experience you’ve had…” she remarked. She looked up into the glalie’s eyes with a combination of outrage and pity. “But there’s something very wrong with the circumstances as you recall them.”

“What? What do you mean?” Solonn asked, troubled.

Sei sighed and lowered herself onto the floor, sitting cross-legged and rubbing at her forehead a bit. “You might want to sit down, too,” she said. The glalie heeded her advice, descending gently to the floor. “You might not believe what I’m about to tell you,” Sei said, “but I may yet be able to prove it. You’ve known so much deception since we parted ways… you deserve to reunite with the truth.” She took a deep breath before proceeding. “Solonn… the evening you left Lilycove was not as it seemed. The one who led you away…” She shook her head. “That was not Morgan.”

Solonn’s mouth opened, but he was temporarily dumbstruck. He remembered that evening perfectly clearly, remembered Morgan’s care, sorrow, and sincere love for her pokémon friends—he couldn’t imagine how that couldn’t have been her. “That can’t be possible!” he finally managed.

“Morgan didn’t leave this city that evening or at any time during the days that followed, not even for a moment,” Sei informed him. “When I returned home, I found her there along with a couple of police officers. She’d contacted them the moment she’d come home and found that you were gone. She was so worried about you that she waited by the phone all night after the police had left for any word on your whereabouts. She spent most of her time there for the next few days, as a matter of fact.”

“But… if that wasn’t Morgan, then who in the gods’ names was that?” Solonn demanded.

“I can think of a possible suspect,” Sei answered quietly. “Someone you know who just so happens to be able to pass flawlessly for a human.”

Solonn fell dead silent as Sei’s statement sank in. “No,” he said. “You can’t honestly accuse him of such a despicable thing…” Unconsciously, he rose, letting his gaze bear down upon Sei. “If you’ve seen my memories of him, you know what sort of a man he is. You can’t truly believe he’d do what you’re suggesting!”

“No,” Sei responded, unflinching in the glalie’s appalled stare, “I can’t truly believe it; I can only suspect it. But there might be evidence to prove or at least support my suspicion within your mind. There are parts of it that are artificially separated from the rest. They were so well hidden that I couldn’t have noticed them if I hadn’t investigated your mind so thoroughly; as it is, they still nearly eluded me. They’re very well quarantined, sealed in a way that I might not be able to undo. But I’m willing to try.”

“…Go on, then,” Solonn said after a beat, then set himself back down. He couldn’t abide by the fact that there were aspects of his own mind that he couldn’t reach, and he still didn’t want to believe that his last moments with Morgan had been wasted on an impostor. And he refused to accept for even a moment that Jal’tai could have been that impostor.

“Whether successful or not, this procedure won’t be a pleasant experience for you,” Sei warned.

“I assure you, I’ve experienced far worse,” Solonn told her earnestly. “Please,” he said, “just do whatever you can.”

“Very well, then.” Sei rose to her feet and went silent and still for a moment after, gathering her strength and bracing herself for the task at hand. She took a couple of steps back from Solonn, then extended her arms forward and slightly upward and crossed her spoons in front of her as if forming crosshairs bearing directly on Solonn’s forehead. Light bloomed within her eyes once more, but it was deeper in color and more intense than before. The spoons took on the same glow as she focused her psychic power through them. Then, with a cry of effort from its maker, they fired a bolt of psychic energy that struck the glalie’s head with a brutal impact.

The rush of indigo light swallowed Solonn’s vision, and he heard his voice come roaring out of its own volition. The psychic bolt drove deep into his brain, sawing against the fabric of his mind as it strove to break through the barrier that stood before it.

Sei snarled in her struggle to break the seals in Solonn’s mind, fearing that she couldn’t keep it up much longer. Her power was beginning to ebb out of her grasp, her mind aching and longing to relent. But she was sure now that she’d succeed if she didn’t let up, and so she ignored her brain’s pleas for rest. Even knowing how such overexertion could harm her, she reached deep into her psychic energy reserves and drove her power onward with all her might.

Meanwhile Solonn gave a piercing cry as his skull felt like it was being blown apart. But in the next moment, the pain vanished without a trace, and a wave of utter tranquility descended upon his mind in its place.

That peace was broken almost immediately. All at once, the memories of what had truly happened after Solonn had left Lilycove took their place alongside their fabricated counterparts. In an instant, Solonn learned of a version of events that was very different from what he’d remembered:

A morning that found him shoved into another form without warning, without consent…

An attempted escape from a role he’d been forced into…

A terrible punishment for his resistance, even worse than the agony of his reversion…


Sei’s violent drive into Solonn’s mind ended, pulling him back into his present surroundings with a jolt. He saw her crouching before him, panting and sweating heavily. “Are… are you going to be all right?” he asked unsteadily, still shaken by what he’d just experienced.

Sei only nodded in response, fighting to catch her breath. Once she’d done so, she looked up at Solonn, trace amounts of indigo light still lingering in her eyes. “Having compared those two memory chains, I can tell without a doubt which one is native to your own mind. It was the truth that was locked away,” she said. “I think we’ve just learned a great deal about Jal’tai.”

Solonn looked deep into her eyes and started to respond, but words failed him at that moment. He didn’t want to believe that the best friend he’d ever known could have subjected him to the strange and terrible experiences that he now recalled… but at the same time, he couldn’t deny Sei’s findings. On some deep, subconscious level, even he could sense which of his memories were truly his own now that he had both sets to compare.

“You now know the lengths he was willing to go to in order to secure you for his endeavors,” Sei continued. “You should see that it’s therefore quite plausible that he impersonated Morgan to lead you out of Lilycove, to get you where he wanted you to go.”

Solonn just stared at her in silence, his eyelight wavering with unease. Sei’s theory made sense, as much as it pained him to admit it. As he now recalled, Jal’tai had even admitted that’d he’d been in that theater, saying that he’d been prepared to rescue Solonn if Morgan hadn’t done so first. The reality was that Jal’tai had delivered him from the theater. Morgan hadn’t even been there.

Still… while the memories of Jal’tai doing terrible things to him were real, so were the memories of the years of guidance and friendship that followed. Solonn couldn’t deny the worst of what had been done to him… but he couldn’t deny the best of it, either.

He turned back to Sei. “I honestly don’t know how to feel about all of this…” he said, his voice breaking.

“I’d imagine not,” Sei responded somberly. “It must be overwhelming to have your past undone in a single moment.”

Her eyes still held that faint light, and as she rose back to her feet, it turned to a strong, even glow once more. “I’m afraid the recovery of your memories still isn’t finished,” she told him then. “I’m sure you’re aware that a hole still exists within your memory, are you not?”

Sei was right, Solonn quickly recognized. There was a small frame of time from the morning he’d awakened as a human that was still missing.

“I suspect I know where that missing memory is hidden,” Sei went on. “There’s another section of your mind that’s still sealed, a smaller one. But it’s sealed in a different way. As such, I’ll have to approach it somewhat differently, but I should still break through it as long as I give it everything I can.”

Solonn frowned at her, concerned. “I know it took a lot out of you last time… Maybe you should rest before you attempt such a thing.”

“Maybe so,” Sei concurred. “But as I said before, you deserve to reunite with the truth—the whole truth. You’ve suffered such injustice at the hands of a psychic being… let another psychic undo this wrong.”

Sei was as concerned as ever about the honor of her element, Solonn realized. “Sei… I know that not all psychics use their abilities to do harm,” he assured her. Sei made a noise of acknowledgment, though she still wore an apologetic look. “Go ahead and try to undo that seal,” Solonn said. “But please, don’t push yourself too hard. Please.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.” Sei crossed her spoons in front of her again. She stared into Solonn’s eyes for slightly longer than she had last time, as if carefully plotting her course of attack. Then she sent another psychic probe lancing through his mind.

It hurt Solonn every bit as much as it had before, but there was something different about it this time. This seal was putting up considerably more resistance than the last one. Solonn could feel Sei’s power straining within his mind; it was barely making any headway at all against the obstacle before it—

—and then the barrier abruptly gave way, hurtling Solonn into another lost memory.

* * *​

Light suddenly filled his vision, unnaturally crisp and white. With a delay, his eyes adjusted to the brightness. Even then, they couldn’t focus properly, leaving his vision dull and hazy.

Movement in the distance before him caught his attention. There, he saw a silhouette pacing back and forth behind a translucent partition. The barrier in front of the figure was tinted, making the exact appearance of whatever was behind it impossible to determine.

Curious about the figure behind the dark barrier, Solonn tried to move toward it—but he couldn’t. He couldn’t move at all. Terror rose swiftly within him, and he tried to call out for help. But his voice couldn’t respond any more than his body could.

Solonn stared with wide, fearful eyes at the silhouette, which had stopped moving and now seemed to be staring at him. He wondered if it represented someone who could help him—or if it was the one who’d rendered him so helpless.

Then something entered his sight that made him forget all about the figure behind the barrier.

Slowly, smoothly, an enormous pair of thin, spindly arms made of glinting metal and glossy, white plastic descended from above with the faint sound of mechanized motion. Solonn wanted to scream and bolt as they reached toward him, but he couldn’t even do so much as shudder.

The strange hands prepared to close around him…


* * *​

Before it could proceed any further, the unlocked memory warped, then seemed to blow apart with a burst of pain in Solonn’s head and searing red light within his eyes. He shouted involuntarily and heard another voice cry out likewise. His vision returned, and he didn’t understand the dark, blank picture it was showing him until he realized that he’d somehow ended up on his back. He was now staring up at the ceiling.

Solonn sat up and got off the floor, his head pounding at the motion. He saw Sei lying there before him, her eyes wide and bulging as her breath came in pained gasps. “Sei!” he cried as he rushed over to her.

The alakazam looked up at him, her expression changing from agony to sorrow as her pain slowly dulled. “I’m so sorry,” she said very softly once she’d caught her breath. “There was some sort of anti-psychic mechanism there… it repelled me, forced me out. I’m afraid I can’t restore the rest of your memory.”

“It’s all right,” Solonn said. “You did the best you could.” He lowered his head, offering a horn to Sei to help her get up.

“That wasn’t even the memory I was trying to unlock,” Sei said as she pulled herself upright with an effort. “It had nothing to do with the morning you found yourself changed…” She sighed. “That’s even more of your past being kept from you, then.”

Solonn tried not to let himself look as disturbed as he felt. The memory Sei had just resurrected was indeed unrelated to the morning when he’d awakened as a human; its setting looked nothing like the Grand Suite, and it didn’t fit within the small frame of time that was missing from his memories of that morning. He couldn’t explain the silhouette and the mechanical arms, and he got the feeling that he never would.

But after seeing what her last efforts to unlock his memories had done to her, he definitely didn’t want Sei giving it another try anytime soon, or perhaps at all. If she pushed it any harder, so might whatever had repelled her last time—he could all too easily imagine it fighting back hard enough to kill her.

“I think all that really matters right now is that we’ve found each other again and we know that we’re safe,” Solonn said. Sei looked at him for a moment, then made a small, wordless noise of agreement, but she still looked troubled. “How did you find me here, anyway?” he asked then, hoping to ease Sei’s mind somewhat by turning the subject away from his memories.

“Well,” Sei began, “shortly after I arrived here at the pokémon center, I thought I detected your mental signature. I could hardly believe it at first, but I followed it and was led here, to the ward for dangerous pokémon, and to you.”

A fresh pang of guilt swelled within Solonn—his suspicions about why he’d been imprisoned here were correct. The reminder of what he’d done to Byron sickened him to his core, and he turned away from Sei in deep shame as it finally hit him that she’d undoubtedly learned that he’d taken someone’s life today.

“Be at peace, Solonn,” Sei said somberly, correctly interpreting his response. “You know you didn’t mean to kill him.” The troubled look in her eyes deepened. “At any rate,” she added almost voicelessly, “it wouldn’t have made any difference if you hadn’t.”

Solonn turned back to face her at once, looking thoroughly appalled. “How can you say that?” he demanded in disbelief. “He shouldn’t have died so young, so senselessly!”

“I’m sure he shouldn’t have, but he would have anyway.” Sei closed her eyes. “Something terrible has happened, Solonn,” she said gravely. “Something impossible… something unnatural.”

“What… what is it? What’s happened?” Solonn asked, concern already etching deep lines into his face, chilling dread growing swiftly within his mind. The grave sorrow in Sei’s tone and expression already told him that the answer would be painful.

Sei couldn’t reply at first, but finally found the strength to do so. “Earlier today, probably not long after you were brought here… something struck the humans here. I was enjoying another day out on the town, just watching them, when it happened… I saw some of them fall as they walked, but others were stricken in their vehicles… there was chaos, Solonn.” She shook her head at the memories, wincing. “I sought help at their hospital, their police station, everywhere, but everywhere I searched, they all just lay there, fast asleep and fully insensible.”

“…All of them?” Solonn asked incredulously. “You couldn’t find anyone who wasn’t like that?”

“No, I couldn’t,” Sei answered sadly. “They all fell asleep, and we haven’t been able to find any cause for their condition or any means to awaken them. Once I realized that I couldn’t reach any of the humans, I started going around town and releasing pokémon from capture balls and PC storage—that’s what I was doing here in the first place. I sent some of the fastest fliers I could find to other cities in hopes of finding a solution there, and I sent some of those who could teleport or otherwise force entry into locked buildings to let out the rest of Lilycove’s pokémon in case… in case no solution could be found.”

A sorrowful sigh escaped her. “It… seems that no solution will be found. Some of the ones I sent out have already returned, and they tell of the same, strange affliction plaguing the humans elsewhere. What’s more… we’ve also learned that this illness is terminal.” Her last statement was barely more than whispered, with what little of her voice that it carried breaking on the last word. “The very old and the very young have already succumbed.”

For a long moment, Solonn remained silent, an expression of horrified astonishment on his face as he sank back to the floor. “Oh… oh dear gods…” he finally whispered, lowering his gaze. He could never have imagined that anything could so effectively strike down an entire population, and yet here it was. All these humans could soon perish…

Every last one of them.

Solonn’s eyes grew enormously wide, and he inhaled sharply. “You’ve got to take me to Morgan,” he urged Sei, his voice strained with panic. “Now, by the gods!”

Without a second’s hesitation, Sei summoned a teleportation field. Solonn’s heart raced as the golden light engulfed him. He was about to reunite with Morgan at last… but under circumstances he would never have wished for.

* * *​


<Sei! It is fortunate that you—>

Both the telepathic voice and the rattling that accompanied it fell abruptly silent as their owner noticed that it wasn’t just Sei who’d appeared in their midst. Several of Oth’s many eyes stared at Solonn, as did the eyes of three other pokémon. But it was clear from all of their expressions that they had far more weighing on their minds than the glalie’s return.

There they all were: the other four pokémon Solonn had known all those years ago. All of them were safe and sound—but of course they were. They’d been safely together all this time, just as Sei had said.

They were all gathered in a small, unfamiliar room; they’d apparently moved into a new home since he’d last seen them. Oth hovered nearby in the center of the room. The others were all at the far end, gathered around a small sofa with Aaron kneeling in silence at one end and Brett and Raze huddled at the other. The skarmory was crying almost silently as the manectric held her as well as he could, a single foreleg draped over her shoulder. The shock and sorrow emanating from them all was palpable, hanging over the room like fog.

And there was Morgan, fast asleep on the sofa with a little blue blanket draped over her. Without a word, with barely even a breath, Solonn glided over to her. Though she was a grown woman now, her faced looked almost exactly like the one that smiled back at him from his memories. She wore an expression of utmost serenity, her eyes closed and the tiniest ghost of a smile curving her lips. It was hard to believe that someone in such blissful peace could be in the hold of something so strange and terrible.

“I don’t believe it… We were all sure you’d never return,” Brett said in a soft voice as Solonn sat down with a low, sorrowful hiss. “How did you finally find your way back?”

“That’s a very long story,” Sei spoke up at once as she came over to join the others, Oth following at her side and helping to support her. “One that he will tell if and when he feels like it.”

Solonn silently thanked Sei, grateful that he’d been spared the matter of his ordeal for the time being. He couldn’t have focused on it enough to relate that story to them anyway, not now. He could barely focus on anything other than the woman who lay before him, closer than she’d been in nearly half a decade yet so terribly distant in her unnatural sleep. Solonn was sure she’d ached with worry for him all the while they’d been apart. He’d vanished from her life without a trace—neither of them had been given a chance to say goodbye to one another. Now history was repeating, in a sense, only this time he’d have no time with her before she was taken away rather than the other way around.

“Nothing can awaken her?” he asked in a pained whisper, his voice carrying an unspoken plea that his question would be contradicted. “Nothing at all?”

<Nothing,> Oth confirmed sadly. <She does not respond to any stimuli.> A number of their eyes closed. <Her physical processes are slowing, steadily and irrevocably. Soon… they will cease,> they said quietly.

At the claydol’s words, Raze gave a strangled sob. The skarmory’s entire body shook as she sat there weeping, her head lowered next to Morgan’s.

“Shh, it’s all right,” Brett tried to comfort her, but the brittleness of his tone told that he was trying just as hard to comfort himself. “At least she’s not suffering… at least she’s going peacefully.” Raze lifted her head and looked at him over her shoulder for a second, but then turned away, unconsoled.

<It is true that she cannot truly be awakened,> Oth spoke up then, a slight hint of hesitance in their mindvoice. <However… there is a chance that she can still be reached.>

Every eye in the vicinity other than Oth’s own turned toward the claydol. “Oth… what do you mean?” Sei asked.

<There is a method that could allow me to contact her within her subconscious mind,> Oth answered.

The others gained astounded expressions, their eyes wide. “Can you really do this?” Brett asked in a hushed tone.

<Possibly,> Oth replied. They gave a long, low rattle. <I have been attempting it all this time, but to no avail. I did not tell any of you what I was trying to do because I did not want to risk raising your hopes in vain. However, now that Sei is here…> Oth turned to face Sei even though their ring of eyes made that unnecessary. <With your assistance, I may be able to succeed in establishing contact with Morgan,> they told her.

“What do you require of me?” Sei asked.

<You will need only to synchronize yourself with my psychic frequency and provide a moderate boost of power.>

“All right, then.” Sei said. Her eyes closed, and all eight of Oth’s followed suit immediately thereafter.

Solonn and the others watched Oth and Sei with bated breath, wondering what, if anything, was about to happen. None of the four who watched them were sure of exactly what the psychics were doing, but they all warily hoped that the two would succeed, that they’d all get to speak with Morgan one last time…

Seconds passed with no sign that the two psychics were actually doing anything at all. Then all of Oth’s eyes suddenly opened and emitted a flash of pale light that swallowed up everything in sight.

When the light subsided, the tiny room was gone. Solonn and the others were now somewhere very different, but also very familiar. A wooden fence enclosed them in a small field of vividly green grass, with clouds drifting through the sky above them. A sitrus tree stood nearby, its branches covered with delicate white blossoms… and beneath that tree sat Morgan, who was very much awake and staring pensively at a sitrus blossom in her hand, picking off a couple of its petals and letting them fly away on the breeze.

How… how is this possible? Solonn wondered silently, staring speechlessly at the sight of Morgan awake and well once more. Aaron, Brett, Raze, and Sei were looking upon her with equal amazement.

<This is a living dream,> Oth privately told the other pokémon using their mindvoice alone, almost as if they’d picked up on the glalie’s unspoken question. <I have projected her dreamscape into our minds and stirred her own consciousness within it. Her body still sleeps, but her mind is awake in this place.>

It seemed to be the only good news that the circumstances would allow. Morgan couldn’t be saved, but at least she could spend what little time she had left with the pokémon who cared about her—with all of them. Somewhere between illusion and reality, she’d see a face that she’d surely thought was lost forever.

Tentatively, Solonn rose and began to approach her. “…Morgan?”

At first, Morgan gave no indication that she’d heard him, and Solonn feared that this attempt to reach her would be in vain after all. But then she gave an unmistakable reaction, a strange look crossing her face. Slowly, she lifted her gaze from the flower in her hand. Her green eyes met the glowing blue ones before her and widened dramatically before filling with tears.

An amazed smile spread across her face, and with a cry of joy, she jumped to her feet and rushed over to Solonn. There was something strange in the way she moved; she seemed to drift more than run, as if she were under less gravity. The moment she reached Solonn, she threw her arms around him as far as they’d go, hugging him tightly. Solonn immediately made an effort to keep his coldness away from her, not knowing if it could affect her in this place or not.

Seconds passed with Morgan just holding on to Solonn and crying in relief and happiness. Then she found her voice. “Oh my God…” she said finally. Her speech, like her movements, was peculiarly altered; she sounded faint, distant. “I thought I’d lost you forever!”

“I thought I’d never see you again, either,” Solonn said quietly.

“I was so scared,” Morgan said almost breathlessly. “I didn’t know what might be happening to you… Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

“Yes,” Solonn answered honestly, his tone sober as he recalled just how badly he’d been hurt since leaving Lilycove. “But I’m fine now.”

“Oh, thank God,” Morgan whispered. “Thank God…”

She let go of Solonn and stepped back from him. Her face was still streaked with tears, but she was smiling radiantly. Her gaze swept over the backyard, finding all of her pokémon gathered there with her. “We’re all together again,” she said happily, gratefully, and made a beckoning motion toward the others.

As they all drew close to her in as much of a group hug as they could manage, Solonn noticed the wind starting to pick up. He shifted his gaze away from everyone else and saw the scene surrounding him fade momentarily, very briefly losing color and definition.

Solonn had a terrible feeling about what it might mean, and he shot a worried, questioning glance toward Oth. The claydol nodded insofar as they could, subtly and silently. Solonn looked away from Oth at once and turned back toward Morgan. Soon, he would part with her once more… but he couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye to her. He’d never seen such pure elation as he saw on her face at that moment, as she stood surrounded by some of her dearest friends. He couldn’t bear to shatter the joy of her reunion with him by telling her it wouldn’t last.

But there was, at least, something he felt he should tell her, something she deserved to hear. “Morgan,” he spoke up. The human looked up into his eyes, still beaming brightly, her eyes still shining with tears of joy. “Thank you… for everything,” Solonn said sincerely. “For all the kindness you’ve shown me, all the caring… I never forgot it, and I never will.”

“Oh…” Morgan said, looking up at Solonn with wide eyes. She hugged him once more, insofar as she could. “You’re so sweet…” she whispered. “I should thank you, too,” she said earnestly, “all of you guys. You’re all such wonderful friends…”

She smiled at the pokémon again, and before their eyes, she began to literally fade away. “I love you all,” she told them, her voice growing fainter with each word. “I’ll always love you…”

The wind whipped up into a true gale then, pulling the sitrus blossoms from the tree. They alone kept their definition as the rest of the dreamscape faded into a blur. One final gust swept around Morgan’s vanishing form, and in a swirl of white petals, she was gone.

The room came back into focus as the dreamscape disappeared completely. Six living souls emerged from the illusion and beheld the reality that now surrounded them, the reality that now lay lifeless before them.

A stark, surreal quietness hovered as the full impact sank into them with a delay. Raze’s voice was the first to break the silence, a piercing cry of pure anguish. Her outpouring of grief brought similar reactions from the others, and well into the night, they all remained there mourning the friend who’d just departed from their midst.

* * *​

The sun set over a cluster of pyres on the following evening in Lilycove. Solonn sat and watched them burning from a safe distance, his mind and heart very heavy with thoughts of the recent tragedy represented by those flames. Aaron, Raze, Brett, and Oth were all there with him, and hundreds of other pokémon were also gathered in mourning out in the streets.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a brief burst of golden light. “Hello, Sei,” Solonn said in a hoarse, very weary voice.

“I delivered your message,” the alakazam told him, sounding equally drained.

“Thank you,” Solonn said with a sigh. He thought about how the people of Convergence might be reacting to the message he’d just sent them via Sei: that Michael Layne had perished along with all of the other humans in Lilycove. Solonn imagined they’d be saddened by the news but not surprised. The stantler guarding Convergence had only been hiding it from humans; the flying pokémon scouts who’d searched the west for aid had found the humans of the integrated community stricken with the same fate that had befallen those in Lilycove.

During the course of that day, more such scouts had returned with news that the same, terrible phenomenon had occurred in every human settlement they’d searched. The unnatural, fatal sleep seemed to have touched all of Hoenn—and according to the most recent reports, it had reached humans living in nearby regions, as well.

In the wake of these reports, rumors began spreading about its scope. Many of its witnesses began to believe that as widespread as the malady had already proven, it might very well prove to be a tragedy of global proportions.

Solonn was among those who were possessed of those suspicions, and it was thus that he’d decided not to go back and try to resume his position as the leader of Convergence. If humanity truly was vanishing from the world, then it was no longer necessary for the leader of that or any other community to be able to speak to them. With such abilities no longer a requirement of the position, anyone with the mind and the spirit to lead the people of Convergence could do so. And in such troubled times, Convergence needed the guidance of one of their own number, not some unknown glalie who’d seem to have just come into their midst from nowhere.

Solonn knew there was still a place in his heart for Convergence, and he thought he might like to return there someday, but as just an ordinary citizen. He also felt a sense of belonging here in Lilycove and liked the idea of staying here with his friends. But at the present, there was one place in particular where he most wanted to be.

“Just let me know when you’re ready,” Sei told him. “I’ll take you as soon as you wish.”

“I’m ready,” Solonn said quietly. It had been nearly half a decade since he’d last seen his homeland, his people, his family.

He’d thought about Morgan’s promise to return him to Virc-Dho once his contest career was over. Even though it hadn’t truly been Morgan who’d released him, Solonn knew the real Morgan would have ultimately let him go, too. He was sure she’d want him to return to his original home now that he could no longer serve the purpose he’d agreed to stay for.

<Please, Sei, let me transport him,> Oth offered. <You have done a great deal for these people during the past two days. You deserve a chance to rest.>

“Very well,” Sei said, then took a seat next to Aaron.

Solonn rose from the ground as Oth came to hover beside him, and then he turned to face the rest of his friends. “Maybe we’ll meet again someday. I hope we will… until then, goodbye,” he said, and a chorus of farewells echoed his own.

He gave one last, very faint smile to his friends, then turned toward the pyres in the distance. “Goodbye,” he whispered to one last friend as he gazed into the flames, holding her in his thoughts as golden light surrounded him. Your promise was kept, my friend.
 
Last edited:
Chapter 21

Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
Location
*aurorus noise*
Partner
glalie
Chapter 21 – Persona Non Grata


Light briefly filled the border cavern just outside Virc-Dho as Solonn and Oth materialized there. For both of them, this part of Shoal Cave was familiar territory. It was where Oth had teleported Morgan back home after she’d acquired her new snorunt, and it was where Solonn had first encountered people outside his own species.

It’d been nearly half a decade since Solonn had last laid eyes upon this cavern. At first, he’d never have thought he’d be kept from it for so long. Later, he’d never have imagined he’d be back here again so soon, if at all. He’d never known for sure how he’d feel when he finally made it home. That time had arrived, and he still didn’t know what to make of it.

Solonn turned slightly toward the claydol at his side. “Thanks again for bringing me here,” he said earnestly.

<It was the least I could do,> Oth said. <I know that this is something you have long desired… and I truly believe that this is what she would have wanted, as well,> the claydol added, their true voice faltering as it rattled softly alongside those last words.

Solonn nodded silently in agreement. Morgan would surely be glad to know that he’d ultimately made it back where he belonged, just as she’d intended. “Farewell, Oth. Take care of yourself.”

<As must you. Farewell,> Oth said, then teleported away.

Solonn turned from the spot where Oth had been, his gaze sweeping the cavern in search of the ice barrier that marked the entrance to Virc-Dho itself. He found it quickly and drifted over to it at once.

Though the wall was almost twice his width and nearly thrice his height, it looked smaller and less imposing than it had the last time he’d seen it, and not only because he was much larger than he’d been. He had power over the barrier that he hadn’t before.

Solonn summoned his elemental power to the task, and the barrier dissolved in a wave from the ceiling to the floor. He made it several yards past the threshold before realizing that he’d forgotten to seal the entrance behind him.

If he weren’t so drained after the events of the past couple of days, he might have cursed himself silently for his absentmindedness. As it was, he went ahead and forgave himself. He looked back toward the mouth of the tunnel, restored the ice wall, then turned away and headed deeper into the warren.

Though back in his native land, Solonn had yet to find his actual home. He quickly realized it wouldn’t be easy; he’d only taken the route that led from the surface exit to his family’s cavern once, and that had been over a decade ago.

He only had a faint, sketchy impression of that memory to navigate by, and he soon determined that he might as well have none at all. Things had clearly changed around here since he’d been gone. As he moved through the tunnels, he occasionally passed relatively fresh-looking holes in the walls—offshoots of the tunnel that were still under construction, most likely. Because of them, the picture of the warren in his memory no longer matched reality.

Before long, Solonn acknowledged that he had no idea where he was—he’d have to ask for directions. He had yet to run into anyone since entering the warren, but he kept on searching. There had to be someone about.

Finally, he picked up sounds that proved it. The noises weren’t terribly close, but at least he could tell where they were coming from. They grew louder and clearer as he got closer—those were unmistakably voices, and in considerable numbers. Eventually, he found the source of the chatter. Through another wall of ice, he could just make out a crowd of people.

Solonn removed the barrier, remembering to close it behind him as soon as he’d passed through. He was now in a chamber that was easily the size of the cavern just outside the warren. Glalie were gathered here, dozens of them, doing little more than just milling about and chatting with one another. Solonn had just found his way into a conversation hall, though he didn’t realize this; glalie kept their social habits from snorunt, and Solonn hadn’t evolved until after his capture.

Many eyes shifted his way and locked onto him as he entered the crowd; whether they were staring because he was considerably larger than any of them or because they didn’t recognize him (or very possibly for both of those reasons), he couldn’t tell, nor did he particularly care. He also couldn’t tell whether those who watched him were doing so out of mere curiosity or fear. Solonn hoped it wasn’t the latter. He really wasn’t in the mood to have to chase one of them into a corner just to get directions.

He approached a small clique and came to a stop before them. The three glalie whom he now faced looked up at him, and they all held his gaze expectantly and warily.

“Yes?” the centermost of them spoke up.

“Sorry to bother you,” Solonn said, trying to sound as polite and non-threatening as possible, “but I need your help in finding someone. Do any of you know where I might find a Ms. Azvida Zgil-Al?”

He’d hoped, of course, that one of them would say yes, but he’d also been prepared for the possibility of having no such luck with these three. What he hadn’t been prepared for were stares that went from warily questioning to unmistakably hostile. One of the three glalie even hissed at him.

“Up to her horntips in hellfire, as far as I care,” the glalie in the center said acidly, glaring at Solonn for one last moment before she turned abruptly and began to move away from him, her two companions following closely behind her.

Solonn was initially too taken aback by their hostility to know what to make of it. Then he found himself battling an urge to cut them off and demand that they apologize for insulting his mother like that—and maybe not using his polite and non-threatening tone this time. But doing or saying anything that might scare the locals would only make it harder to get any information from them. He managed to contain his outrage, though not easily.

He expected to have to ask the same question as many times as it took to get an answer, but he wasn’t looking forward to giving it another try. Not if mentioning Azvida’s name would garner the same response from anyone else here. Solonn wondered how his mother could have possibly made any enemies, but he knew better than to ask. He couldn’t trust that story coming from people who disliked her. He’d just have to wait to get that answer from Azvida herself… unless, of course, she made it clear that she didn’t want to talk about it.

Bracing himself for more unfriendly responses, Solonn asked others among the crowd for her whereabouts. Only one of them responded with anywhere near the venom of the first glalie he’d asked, but they all still plainly displayed some dislike or at least unease at the mention of his mother’s name. Those who gave any answer at all said they had no clue where to find her. Whether they were being truthful or simply didn’t want to be of any help where she or anyone associated with her was concerned, Solonn couldn’t be certain.

Meanwhile, he also kept an eye out in case Azvida was there in person, but he saw no sign of her. He wasn’t really surprised. Why would she want to go where she wasn’t welcome?

Eventually, Solonn grew weary of asking and searching in vain despite how earnestly he still wished to find her. Since no one here could (or would) help him, he figured he’d be better off just looking for Azvida throughout the warren on his own. He might get lost more than a few times in the process, but that was starting to sound more appealing than staying here with the stares and the hushed voices. Especially when he was sure that they were whispering dark things about someone he loved.

“Hey. I overheard you asking about an Azvida Zgil-Al,” said someone behind him. His tone was difficult to read.

Solonn hesitated a moment before turning to face him, half out of a desire to avoid startling this person in case he was friendly, half out of reluctance to possibly deal with another person who wasn’t. He found a lone glalie hovering there, looking up right into his eyes—just looking, not staring. There was a peculiar look on this glalie’s face, as hard to interpret as the newcomer’s tone had been.

“Yes, I was,” Solonn confirmed, speaking somewhat slowly and cautiously. “Do you know where I might find her?”

The glalie before Solonn only gave a quick, minimal nod in response, trying to be inconspicuous about it. “Follow me,” he said in an undertone, then turned away, making for the exit at once.

It seemed like a curiously sudden resolution for such a long and draining search for answers. But Solonn was presently disinclined to be picky. Help was help, he figured, and so he followed his newfound guide out of the conversation hall without question or delay.

“All right, just keep following me and you’ll see her in no time,” the guide said once he and Solonn were well away from the conversation hall. “Now, I’ll warn you: it’s not exactly a short trip from here.”

“That’s fine,” Solonn said. “Better than staying back there, at least.”

“Ugh, I second that,” the guide said. “Gods, you’d think people would let it go already; it’s been months now, for the gods’ sakes.” The guide sighed. “I hate seeing her treated like that. She’s a nice lady; always was.”

Solonn nodded in agreement. It was a relief to finally encounter someone here who regarded his mother the same way that he remembered her. “So, how do you know her?” he asked.

“Old friend of the family,” the guide replied, by which he was indicating himself. “I’ve known her since I was a kid.”

He stopped and turned to face Solonn with a peculiar, dancing light in his eyes that suggested barely-contained excitement. “Now, how do you know her?” he asked, his voice filled with that same strange, sudden brightness.

“Relation,” Solonn answered. “She’s my mother.”

The guide’s eyelight brightened even further at that response, and he burst into roaring laughter. “Ha!” he crowed triumphantly. “Knew it, knew it, knew it!”

Solonn stared at him, more than a little bemused. When the guide finally stopped laughing, he met Solonn’s gaze once more, relatively calm and quiet now but still wearing an enormous grin.

“Yeah, I figured it was you,” he said once he’d caught his breath. “Always were a big guy, weren’t you?”

Flags rose in Solonn’s mind. “…I know you, don’t I?”

The guide grinned even more broadly. “Don’t believe I’ve bothered to introduce myself, Mr. Zgil-Al. Name’s Zilag Shal-Zirath,” he said with an exaggerated bow.

Solonn’s eyes widened. “Ah, of course, of course…” He couldn’t help but smile, if only faintly. “Sorry for not recognizing you sooner…”

“Psssh, it’s fine,” Zilag said dismissively. “Neither of us are what we used to be, after all. I wouldn’t have expected you to recognize me just because I recognized you; I just happened to find someone your size asking around for Azvida and put the pieces together. Anyway, she’s going to be absolutely ecstatic to see you,” he said as he went back to leading Solonn through the tunnels. “She thought you were lost forever—we all did.”

“Does she have any idea what happened to me?” Solonn asked. He thoroughly doubted that Azvida or anyone else here could guess what he’d experienced in his time away from Virc-Dho, but maybe they’d figured out he’d been abducted, at least. He wondered if they’d believed he’d been alive all this time and had wondered how he was doing, or if they’d eventually just assumed he’d died.

“Oh yeah,” Zilag said. “She knows because I told her. Soon as I got away from my sister and her gang, I went and told her what they’d done to you. Azvida saw it necessary to bring in the authorities on the matter, but I tried not to get too worried. I was still sure we’d find you right where Sanaika had left you—that is, until they found out you weren’t there…”

He gave a sudden shake, as if to snap out of a funk. “Whatever,” Zilag said brightly. “You’re here now, right? Looks like there’s a happy ending to all this after all.”

“Hm,” was all Solonn could say to that. Zilag was right, really—after all Solonn had gone through in the years since he’d left this place, things were finally going as he’d long hoped they would. The fact that his family would soon be made whole again was an undeniable light among the recent sorrows.

As Solonn continued to follow Zilag, he noticed the path had simplified dramatically. The tunnel sloped gently downward in an almost perfectly straight line at this point; there were no more offshoots branching away along its walls. The ice lining it was duller and more uneven, suggesting that this part of the warren wasn’t well maintained.

Solonn got the impression that this route was scarcely traveled—and possibly because people were inclined to avoid it. A shunned place for shunned people, perhaps. Something threatened to boil in him at the thought of his mother being cast out like that. He still didn’t know what in the world could have turned so many people against her; he couldn’t imagine her doing anything that would deserve that kind of treatment.

He’d known better than to ask the people at the conversation hall about it, but he reckoned he could trust Zilag to give him an unbiased answer. “Just what was it that happened all those months ago?” he asked. “What could my mother have possibly done?”

“Well, she didn’t actually do anything,” Zilag answered. “What happened was that this… this creature came asking around for her—something that scared the hell out of the public. Since this thing was here looking specifically for her, everyone blames her for bringing the thing here.”

“That hardly seems fair,” Solonn said, frowning in disapproval. “Did she even ask for this ‘creature’ to come here?”

“Don’t know. She doesn’t really like to talk about that whole situation, so…” Zilag trailed off. “At any rate, I doubt anyone really cares whether she actually summoned the creature or not,” Zilag went on. “I think the thing freaked them out beyond all logic and reason.”

“And just what sort of creature was this, anyway?”

“Again, don’t know; I didn’t actually see them myself. All I know is what I’ve heard, and what I’ve heard is that they were big—as in, huge—and bright silver. A couple of the people who claimed they got really close said they could see their reflections in the creature’s hide. I don’t know how much of what’s said about the creature is fact and how much is exaggeration, though.”

Solonn couldn’t say how accurate or trustworthy those accounts were, either. But with Zilag’s descriptions in mind, he tried to identify the being that had shaken up the community. He could only think of a couple of species that were potential matches. His memories of them weren’t perfect, but he recalled enough to recognize that any of those creatures would certainly have caused a stir among a nation of ice-types.

“So what became of the creature?” Solonn asked.

“As far as anyone knows, they just left. Whether or not they ever did find Azvida is anyone’s guess.”

“If they left, then there’s really no good reason for everyone to keep holding it against her,” Solonn said, sounding fairly disgusted.

“I know,” Zilag said with a sigh. “But, like I said, they seem to be beyond logic and reason where all that’s concerned.”

Solonn said nothing more from this point, his mind too heavy with thoughts of what had happened to his mother. At length, the long, monotonous path split off in numerous directions. Zilag led Solonn into a rightward branch, and then to a dead end.

“We’re here,” Zilag announced. That they were anywhere other than at a wall was questionable; the ice that stood in their way was very thick and clouded with pale sediment, offering only a hazy view of nondescript darkness beyond. “Of course, we have to let them know we’re here if we want them to let us in… Hey!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, making Solonn wince.

Several seconds passed with no indication that anyone had even heard Zilag’s call, let alone that anyone was doing anything about it. “Maybe no one’s there right now,” Solonn said.

“No, they’re there,” Zilag assured him. “Those two don’t go out very much anymore, as you can imagine.”

Something Zilag had just said caught in Solonn’s mind. “…Did you say ‘those two’?” Solonn asked; Zilag responded to this with a nod. “Who else is there with her?”

“Just her mate,” Zilag answered. Solonn abruptly turned to face Zilag, his eyes wide with surprise, but before he could say or ask anything about what he’d just learned, “Ah, see? They’re letting us in,” Zilag said, directing Solonn’s attention toward the wall with a dip of his horn.

Slowly, the barrier shrunk away in layers, vanishing into vapor a few inches at a time. Solonn and Zilag made their way forward a little bit at a time until the last of the ice disappeared into the walls and revealed the open space beyond.

From what Solonn could see, the chamber they’d arrived at was quite spacious and orderly—it actually looked rather nice, not at all like the miserable hovel that path to this place had led him to expect. First and foremost in his vision and attention, however, was the unfamiliar male hovering right inside the entrance—Azvida’s mate, Solonn presumed.

“Hello again, Zilag… and who’s this?” the man asked as his gaze shifted from Zilag to Solonn and lingered there, raising a single, ice-glazed eyebrow.

“Go get Azvida,” Zilag said, grinning.

The glalie just past the entrance gave Zilag an odd look for a moment, then turned around and set off into the chamber, disappearing into one of its diverging tunnels. Solonn heard a brief, hushed conversation taking place in another room, but he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. Then the unfamiliar glalie returned, accompanied by someone who was very familiar.

Her eyes found Solonn at once and fixed their gaze and their sharp, flickering light upon him. Solonn could tell there was something at work behind them. Maybe she, like Zilag before her, had already guessed his identity, but perhaps she didn’t quite dare to believe it. There seemed to be something else in that stare, too, but he couldn’t even begin to interpret it.

“He’s back,” Zilag told her, his voice quavering slightly with excitement.

Azvida’s eyes widened dramatically, and their light flared brightly. Her mouth opened, working mutely for a moment before she found her words. “Are you really…?” she finally managed almost breathlessly, trailing off as she continued to stare at Solonn.

Solonn struggled to find his voice as well before he could respond. “Yes, Mother,” he confirmed softly.

“Oh…” Azvida’s voice cracked and trembled, her eyes giving a quivering, powerful glow. “Oh merciful gods, it’s a miracle!” she cried, then surged forward, her head lowered against Solonn’s side, shaking in dry, silent sobs.

“Well, I think I’d better be on my way,” Zilag said then, smiling at the reunited mother and son. “No doubt Hiledas is wondering where I got off to. Take care, folks,” he said, then departed.

Azvida stayed close to Solonn for a few more moments, murmuring thanks to the gods for his safe return. She looked up at him before she’d calmed down all the way, her eyes shining with joy as she beamed brightly. “Welcome back, son,” she said warmly. She turned toward the main chamber. “Come on in, sit down and relax,” she said with a backwards glance. “You’ve most certainly earned it.”

Solonn followed her away from the entrance and sat down with her in the main chamber. He noticed that the other man still hadn’t joined them; glancing back from whence he’d come, Solonn found him lingering by the entrance, restoring the thick wall that had been there in its entirety before joining the others.

“Here,” Azvida said, and conjured three decent-sized chunks of ice: one for herself, one for each of the other glalie. Each of them could have just as easily made their own ice, of course, but Azvida was clearly in a rather generous mood at the moment. Refreshments sounded very good right about then, and Solonn thanked Azvida for them before he began partaking of the ice, as did Azvida’s mate.

“I suppose you’re wondering who he is, aren’t you?” Azvida spoke up then, indicating her right, where her mate sat giving the occasional, mildly interested nibble of his ice. “This is Jeneth Avasi-Ra. We’ve been together for almost two years now.”

“Ah. Nice to meet you, Mr. Avasi-Ra,” Solonn said, bowing his head respectfully.

“Likewise,” Jeneth said. “Jeneth will do, by the way,” he added amiably. All of his attention was now on Solonn; the ice before him lay forgotten for the time being. With a rather appraising look leveled at him, Jeneth said, “I never thought I’d actually meet you in person, you know? I’d always wished that I could—Azvida’s told me all about you.”

“…Thanks,” Solonn responded, doing an admirable job of concealing a sudden unease. The thought that Azvida might have truly told Jeneth all about him wasn’t particularly comforting.

“I’m sure the two of you will get along very nicely. I’m just glad you’ll finally get the chance to know each other—just grateful beyond words that you’re home again,” Azvida said, and the glow in her eyes began trembling again. “I never stopped wishing I’d see you again, but after finding out it was the creatures from above who had you… Gods, I’d never worried so much in my life. I had nightmares about what might be happening to you out there—horrible, horrible things—and I couldn’t help but fear that I’d lost you for good.”

She sighed in a very long-due relief. “But the nightmare’s over. You’re back where you belong now, thank the gods.”

“Seems everything comes back around in time, doesn’t it?” Jeneth said, sending an odd, significant glance Azvida’s way. Azvida’s mouth fell partway open, and then she shot him an alarmed, piercing look that plainly told that he’d crossed some line.

She took a deep breath and turned back toward Solonn, the sudden shock fading from her face. But Solonn noticed that there was still something distinctly amiss behind her eyes; though she was clearly trying to conceal it, she couldn’t help but look a bit troubled.

“I shudder to think what you might have endured out there,” Azvida said then, leaving the matter of the peculiar exchange she’d just had with Jeneth behind without any explanation. “So, how did you finally manage to get back?”

Solonn had thoroughly expected that she’d want to know about that, as well as about what had happened to him during his absence. He was reluctant to share all of his experiences in the outside world, however—some of them were things he didn’t really expect anyone to digest, after all, and there were some he’d prefer not to speak or think of ever again if he could help it.

He decided to just give a minimal account for now and perhaps elaborate on the story another time—perhaps. “One of the pokémon I met out there was able to bring me back. They’d have been able to do so sooner, but I was dragged away from them and… thrown into someone else’s affairs. Eventually, I got away from all that and back to that pokémon, and… well, here I am.” Some part of his mind silently congratulated him for coming up with that succinct, euphemistic response.

Azvida nodded slowly, absorbing that. “You’re very lucky, Solonn,” she said. “It’s a good thing there was someone around who could help you out—most of those who are taken by the creatures from above aren’t so fortunate. Gods, imagine if you’d shared their fate… some of the things that those creatures put people through are just horrible…”

Part of Solonn’s mind began to wonder at once how Azvida knew that, but he had another response to her words that was stronger and more immediate. “Not all of them were so terrible,” he said. “The one who took me was actually very nice, very reasonable.”

He paused and took a deep breath before continuing. He’d known talking about Morgan would be difficult, but he insisted on defending her character. “She was even willing to let me go home once she realized I wanted to, but I was stolen from her before she could. Stolen by pokémon,” he felt it necessary to emphasize. “I know she always wanted me to be happy, and I know she would’ve helped me return here… she just never got the chance…” His throat constricted painfully, and he could say no more.

Azvida wore a saddened expression in silence for a moment, recognizing the way that subject weighed upon her son. “As I said,” she finally responded, “you were very fortunate.”

From that point forward, Azvida didn’t ask anything more about Solonn’s abduction, keeping the conversation geared toward things that had happened in Virc-Dho while he’d been away. Among other things, she told him how Sanaika and his gang had escaped punishment for what they’d done to him by fleeing up into Shoal Cave, never to be seen again. She also told him how she’d met Jeneth and how Zilag had been set up with Hiledas by his parents, who’d wanted to ensure that “at least one of our children didn’t end up with a damn fool,” in Ms. Shal-Zirath’s own words.

Curiously, the discussion remained solely between Azvida and Solonn; Jeneth said nothing more in the wake of the comment that he apparently shouldn’t have made. He merely sat silently with something clearly working behind his eyes, something he wanted to say but held back.

Eventually, everyone agreed that it was time to call it a night. Azvida showed Solonn to a spare chamber where he could stay for the time being. He bid her goodnight, and she smiled at him as he disappeared into his room for the night.

She then followed Jeneth into their own sleeping chamber on the opposite side of the main cavern, where she immediately lay down in the soft snow blanketing the floor and sighed blissfully. Something she’d long thought hopeless had actually been set right in the end, and she was sure she’d rest all the better for it from now on.

“The gods have sent you a miracle today, haven’t they?” Jeneth said as he moved over to her side.

“Yes, they certainly have,” Azvida responded. She waited for Jeneth to lie down beside her as usual, but he did no such thing. Puzzled, she turned to face him, giving him a look that asked if something was wrong.

“They’ve sent your son back, safe and sound—and so soon after the last thing they sent you,” Jeneth said, seemingly musing aloud. Yet at the same time, he was looking pointedly at Azvida, his gaze imparting a particular significance to his words. “Maybe they’re trying to tell you something.”

The blissful relief that had enveloped Azvida retreated at those words. “I’ve already made my decision where that’s concerned,” she said, sounding quite discomfited. “I made it long before you came into the picture; you know that.”

“And you’ve questioned that decision ever since it was made. You know that,” Jeneth countered. “You know you made it for all the wrong reasons; you’ve known it all along, but you just wouldn’t own up to those mistakes.”

Azvida winced and turned away from him, but Jeneth circled around to face her, refusing to let her escape his gaze. “The chance to make this right has practically been lined up and laid out right in front of you. You know you can do this. And you know you should.”

“But… Gods, imagine what he’ll think. He’ll never forgive me for it,” Azvida said, her voice constrained. “I’ve only just gotten him back. I don’t want to lose him again now…” she whispered.

“Maybe he won’t forgive you. But then again, maybe he will. There’s only one way to know. And as I said, you’ve been given the chance to make up for your mistakes. The gods have done their part, as has he. Now all that’s left is for you to do your part. Tell him, Azvida, please,” Jeneth said firmly but not unkindly. “He deserves this, especially after all that he’s surely been through.”

Azvida stared back at him with a very cornered expression, at a loss for words. This was a matter she’d always feared to share with Solonn or anyone else; she never would have shared it with Jeneth, but he had insisted on enlightening her mate.

In truth, she agreed with Jeneth. But she was just as terrified as she’d ever been of the revelation he was asking her to make and the consequences it might bring. Deep inside, she’d always felt her son should know the truth and wished that he could, but had never felt that it was safe.

“…I’m sorry,” she whispered finally. “I just don’t know if I can do this.”

Jeneth didn’t respond to her at first, silently holding her in his solemn gaze. Finally, he sighed in disappointment. “I don’t think you can deny what you know is right forever,” he said quietly, “but I also think he’s been denied the truth for far too long. I want you to reconsider this, Azvida—I want you to look into your heart and pay attention to what it tells you. Hopefully, you’ll do the right thing by this time tomorrow. If not, I’ll do it for you,” he told her with a distinct note of finality in his voice, then turned away.

Azvida’s jaw dropped open in the wake of Jeneth’s ultimatum, but all objections failed her. His tone had told plainly that he wouldn’t debate the matter any further. He’d made his decision, and he was clearly determined to carry it out.

With a powerful worry now roiling inside her, Azvida rolled onto her back without another word as Jeneth finally settled down at her side. She closed her eyes, but she knew that sleep wouldn’t come. She spent the rest of the night dreading the coming day, knowing that one way or another, the truth she’d been evading for over two decades would catch up with her at last.
 
Last edited:
Chapter 22

Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
Location
*aurorus noise*
Partner
glalie
Chapter 22 – The Serpent Denied


The new day found Solonn sitting alone in his room, watching the ice on the walls move and transform as he idly manipulated it. Sleep had abandoned him early, leaving him awake throughout most of the morning, and during that time he’d been rather bored. There simply wasn’t much of anything to do in this place when no one else was awake.

Too many years as a human, he reckoned. When he hadn’t been busy with his education, and later his work, there’d been music, books, television, and a number of other things available to keep him occupied.

He began humming to himself as he guided the ice, wordlessly resurrecting one of his old favorite songs. The ice on the walls all around him began shifting in a different way: as if carved by an invisible chisel, swirling patterns etched themselves into it. Solonn began to lose himself in the act, and the lines continued snaking through the ice under a less conscious sort of control until they formed an image right before their maker’s eyes.

There was a delay before he realized what he’d just done. When it finally sank in, he fell silent. The once abstract patterns on the walls had taken on a definite shape: twisting branches covered in delicate-looking flowers. Sitrus blossoms.

The significance didn’t escape him. Morgan had introduced him to the song he’d been humming. She’d come to recognize it as his favorite, and so they’d listened to it together many times. Sitrus branches had given them shade while they listened…and sitrus blossoms had floated on the wind during his last moments with her. A low, mournful sigh escaped him as he let the conjured image vanish back into the ice on the walls.

Solonn was about to go and see if someone else was finally awake, but the question answered itself before he could even turn around.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Azvida said from just outside the room. There was a distinct note of trepidation in her voice that Solonn noticed right away, and what he saw when he turned to face her matched that tone. She was just hanging there at the entrance, her brows drawn together and the light in her eyes fluttering in clear unease.

“Is something the matter?” Solonn asked, concerned.

Something certainly was, as far as Azvida was concerned; she’d never thought she would ever do this of her own accord. But she couldn’t afford to dwell on that fact; what little resolve she’d managed to gather wouldn’t return if she wasted it by hesitating too long, and she couldn’t bear to dread this confession any longer.

“There’s something I need to talk about with you,” she said, her voice very weak and strained. “Something that’s long overdue.”

Solonn frowned worriedly at her. Her reluctance to talk about whatever it was couldn’t have been plainer. She still hadn’t moved one inch into his room, and now she was shaking on the spot. Solonn tried to look less troubled in an effort to calm her, but he still had an uneasy feeling about what she was going to say.

“I’m listening,” he told her, then sat down. Azvida nodded in acknowledgment and finally forced herself to move closer to him. The moment she entered the room, she felt as though a large stone had just blocked off the exit, trapping her in that room with her obligation. She sat down beside her son, unwilling to face him, and several breaths escaped her before she could give word or voice to any of them.

“When you were very young,” she began, feeling an urge to drag each word back into silence as soon it was spoken, “I told you something that was… not true. I told you your father had died just after you were born.” She swallowed hard. “He’s still alive, Solonn. He only left us… and I was the one who drove him away.”

Her words registered with a considerable delay. Once they sank in, they struck deep and hard; if Solonn hadn’t already been seated, he might have dropped from the air. He turned a shocked stare at Azvida, or tried to; she avoided his gaze in a swift motion, wincing sharply as if in pain.

“My gods,” Solonn said almost voicelessly, shaking his head in disbelief. “All this time, and you never said anything… Why, Mother?” he asked her plaintively, a distinct note of betrayal in his voice. “Why did you do it?”

Azvida shrunk further from him at the hurt in his voice, but she suppressed the urge to flee from him altogether. “There’s something else you need to know about your father,” she told him. “You can’t understand why I did what I did unless you know the whole truth about him.”

She forced herself to face him; it was all she could do not to turn right back around when she saw the raw, earnest demand for answers in his eyes. “I told you that I never really got to know your father. That wasn’t true, either; I knew him very well. His name is Grosh Argrosh, and he’s… he’s not of our kind. He’s… Here, let me show you.”

Azvida looked down at the floor. A second later, ice began rising up through the snow there. It took form, lengthening while crystalline facets shaped its surface. Seconds later, her work was done. Sitting there between the two glalie was a two-foot-long model of a segmented serpent.

Solonn was at a loss for words, but his mind was racing. Less than a day before, he’d thought about the very creature depicted before him—he’d thought the creature that disrupted the community might have been one of them. It was astonishing to think he could be related to such a creature, that he could be the son of one…

“A steelix,” he said almost breathlessly.

“You know of his kind, then?” Azvida said.

“I know of many kinds,” Solonn muttered distractedly. He continued to stare at the tiny model steelix, imagining it in its true dimensions—an immense creature, the sort that would absolutely terrify people who’d never even conceived of such a being, let alone actually seen one. “He was here recently, wasn’t he?” he asked.

“Yes,” Azvida said. “Just months ago… he came back for us, Solonn,” she said, sounding anguished and wincing as if in pain. “But when he found out you were gone and that I’m with Jeneth now, he left again.” There was an odd flickering in her eyes, and she averted her gaze once more, letting the miniature steelix disappear back into the floor.

“Ever since he returned, everyone else has resented me for the fact that I’m the one he came here for,” she said. “His presence surely frightened them, but… well, there’s more to it than just that. I think enough of them correctly guessed what my involvement with Grosh was.”

She hesitated before proceeding. “Our society has… opinions about mating with other species. And those opinions aren’t favorable. It’s considered not only immoral but also very bad luck. And… Gods, I’m ashamed to admit this…” She sighed. “I never really agreed with those old prejudices and superstitions, but I was still afraid of what people would think of what I’d done with Grosh, and it was because of that fear that I pushed him out of my life and yours,” she admitted, her voice cracking in mid-confession.

For moments on end, Solonn sat in silence, stunned by what he’d just heard. That his own mother had lied to him for his entire life and denied him from knowing his father, all in the name of a social taboo she didn’t even agree with…

“I know it was wrong,” Azvida said, her voice heavy with shame. “Wrong to cast him away, and wrong to lie to you about him. I’ve always known. I’ve just been too much of a coward to do the right thing, too scared of what people would think and say and do about me, about both of us… and too afraid of how you might react if you ever learned that I’d lied to you.” She looked Solonn right in the eyes. “I’ll understand if you never forgive me.”

There was a very long pause as Solonn tried to figure out what to make of this situation. He knew he’d likely never be able to condone Azvida’s cowardice and deceit. But he also recognized that she seemed sincerely remorseful about her actions.

In the end, he finally supposed that if Azvida could find the courage to own up to her mistakes, then he should try to find the grace to forgive her. At least she’s finally let go of the lies, he thought wearily. At least she did the right thing in the end.

“I… I’ll try not to hold the past against you,” he said quietly.

Azvida closed her eyes. She’d feared her son would hate her for what she’d just confessed, and yet here he was, willing to forgive her. She silently thanked the gods for this chance to make right what she’d done wrong. She also inwardly thanked Jeneth for giving her the final push she’d needed in order to come clean.

“I know I’ve kept you from knowing someone you’ve deserved to know all your life, and it shames me more than I can express,” she said. “Nothing can give you back the years you two should’ve had together, but… there is a way you can have what you’ve been due all this time. I can take you to him, Solonn.”

Solonn’s eyes shifted her way slowly. Their light was still dampened by weariness, but they still widened in a way that suggested cautious but nonetheless present hope. “You said he left when he saw that I wasn’t here,” he reminded her. Azvida nodded, making an affirmative noise. “So you know where he went, then?” Solonn asked.

“Yes,” Azvida said. “Grosh said he was staying in the caverns above, in a place where he and I once stayed together… he said he hoped you could come visit him there if you ever managed to make it back somehow. I’ll take you to him if you want. It’s the least I could do after how I’ve wronged you.”

Inhaling deeply, Solonn rose from the floor, looking heavily but not unkindly upon his mother. “I’m still very disappointed in what you did,” he told her. “But… thank you for giving me this chance now.”

Very briefly, the ghost of a smile appeared on Azvida’s face. “Again, it’s the least I could do.” She ascended and made her way out of the room. “Come on, then,” she said. If there was any time to do this, it was now, while her resolve was so strong. “I think he’s waited more than long enough to meet you.”

The two of them drifted into the main chamber, where Jeneth was sitting near the exit. His eyes followed them as they approached the thick barrier separating them from the warren outside, and as they stopped there before him, a proud, knowing smile spread across his face.

“We’re going above,” Azvida informed him. “We’ll be gone for most of today and tonight.”

Jeneth nodded. “Take care, both of you.”

“We will,” Azvida assured him. The ice barrier began receding at her silent command, and she and Solonn set off for the warren beyond.

As they made their way upward through Virc-Dho to Shoal Cave, no one disturbed them. Azvida seemed to know exactly which route to take to avoid being noticed. Doubtless she’d had plenty of practice avoiding people lately, Solonn considered, at which he frowned and sighed.

“Now, there’s something you should keep in mind when you meet Grosh,” Azvida said as they traveled. “He doesn’t know of your… talent. You know the one.”

“You’re saying I shouldn’t tell him about it?”

“I’m not saying he’s untrustworthy or anything,” Azvida said. “I just think it would be best to be careful about revealing it… you know, considering what happened last time…”

“Don’t worry,” Solonn said. “I’ve learned my lesson very well where that’s concerned. I don’t think I’ll be using that old trick ever again.” With things at least similar to how they’d been before he’d performed that “trick”, he’d decided that he’d prefer to leave it in the past.

But it might not matter how secretive he was about it if she’d already let it slip to anyone else. He wanted to believe she’d have known better, but… “Jeneth doesn’t know either, does he?”

“Not at all, and I have no intentions of changing that,” Azvida replied.

“Good,” Solonn said, more than a little relieved, “good.” And with that, both he and his mother fell silent once more as they continued toward Shoal Cave. Solonn had only taken a proper route to the surface exit once, and eventually he recognized their current path: this was the part of the warren that Sanaika and his gang had once haunted. Even though they’d left their old territory behind, it seemed that people still didn’t want to come here; there were no signs of recent development here. Nothing had changed since the last time Solonn had laid eyes on these tunnels.

Soon, they merged via a hidden passageway into the path that led to Virc-Dho’s uppermost border. Azvida moved the ice guarding the exit aside, and she and Solonn passed through into the cavern outside.

“We’ve still got a fair way to go,” Azvida told him. “Much of the distance between home and where we’re going is through the caverns beyond this one.” She proceeded onward, leading Solonn over a vast expanse of ice until they reached the far side of the cavern. There, half-concealed behind a broad, flat stone formation that jutted out sharply from the wall, a passageway curved inward.

The passageway was short, and it opened up into territory that definitely didn’t belong to any glalie. The stone surfaces of these caverns were entirely bare, no ice glazing the walls, no snow blanketing the floors. Eventually, Solonn began to see tiny seashells and other little remnants of marine life scattered about. This place was closer to the sea.

There were also natives about. The occasional zubat winged by overhead, while less frequently, spheal and sealeo appeared at the edges of Solonn’s vision. The spheal and sealeo immediately shuffled away toward shelter when they caught sight of the two passing glalie, and Solonn couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt despite having never done any harm to their kind. It seemed a shame that these people were raised to live in fear of his kind, but the fact remained that it was just part of the natural order around here.

Solonn had lost track of how long they’d been traveling when Azvida finally stopped and turned to face him. Some strange discomfort flitted across her face, but it was gone so quickly that Solonn wasn’t sure he’d actually seen it.

“So is this it, then?” he asked.

“No,” Azvida answered. There was that unease in her eyes again; Solonn couldn’t dismiss it this time. But before he could ask about it, “Stay here,” she said. “There’s something I need to take care of, but I need to do it alone.”

Azvida left without any further explanation, but Solonn gave it little thought. They’d been traveling non-stop for a while now; the need to take a break was perfectly understandable. He sat down for the time being, hungry and grateful for a chance to rest. Still, some part of him was ready to get going again as soon as his mother came back, sure that they must be getting close to their destination by now.

Several minutes passed before Azvida returned. Once Solonn spotted her out of the corner of his eye, he rose and turned to face her.

And then abruptly froze in midair with a stunned expression, his thoughts arrested by what he saw.

Silently, Azvida lowered her head, letting something small and blue fall from her jaws. A zubat now lay on the floor before her, nearly motionless. His chest was rising and falling with deep, serene breaths. He was still alive.

Solonn immediately knew why Azvida had brought him the zubat—Gods, she brought him here for me, he thought, shuddering in revulsion. He fumbled for a moment before he managed to gather his words. When he found them, they came out more forcefully than he’d intended.

“Take him back,” he said. “Take him back and leave him be.”

Azvida’s brows drew together in a worried expression. “You still feel the same way about this.”

“Yes, I do. Now, please… just take him back. Please. I don’t want this.”

“Solonn… how long ago did you evolve?” Azvida asked, clearly concerned.

“Not long after I was taken,” Solonn said. “And yes, I know this is something we’re all supposed to do once we’ve evolved, but I’ve never liked it, and I don’t think I ever will.”

“Did you do any hunting at all during all that time?”

“Not really, no.” Solonn vividly recalled the one and only time he’d tried, and he gave another shudder at the memory. At least there was no memory of actually going through with the act to haunt him.

During his time away from Virc-Dho, he’d been grateful to have an alternative to live prey. Later, as a human, he’d enjoyed being able to abstain from eating the flesh of other creatures altogether. “Food was always provided—I never had to kill anyone to get it,” he said darkly.

Azvida sighed. “But that was there and then,” she pointed out. “People may have fed you up until now, and I may have hunted for you today, but you won’t always have someone to provide for you. Ultimately, you’ll have to hunt for yourself. And you’ve known that for a long time, too. This is the way you have to live now that you’re a glalie and now that you’re here again. Sooner or later, you’ll have no choice but to accept it.”

Solonn only stared at her at first, letting his gaze bear down upon her as if he thought he could silently will her to take that back. But in truth, he knew she was right. He’d always known, in the back of his mind, that returning to Virc-Dho would mean becoming an active predator. All those years spent as far from that lifestyle as possible had just caused him to lose sight of that. And it had been especially far from his thoughts when he’d decided to go back home following his reversion and the human tragedy. Now that fact had finally, truly caught up to him, and he felt all but cornered by it.

“…I know,” he said finally, wearily. “It’s just so hard to accept…”

Azvida closed her eyes and nodded in a sort of knowing sympathy. “I understand, Solonn. Believe me, I really do.” She opened her eyes. “When I first started hunting, I also had a hard time accepting it. I wished it weren’t necessary, but… I knew I had no other choice.”

She looked down at the zubat, who still lay there unconscious and completely unaware of the mortal peril that faced him. “We’re all what we have to be, according to the laws of nature,” she said. “There’s nothing right or wrong about it; it’s just the only way that works. Every one of our kind has to accept this part of our nature. It’s the only way we can survive.”

Part of Solonn understood and agreed with these concepts completely; it had done so ever since he’d evolved. His eyes stayed transfixed upon the zubat, and as he stared at him, he tried almost wholeheartedly to accept what he was seeing as food. His predatory instinct approached him from a number of angles: At least you didn’t have to go catch him this time. Maybe she’ll kill him for you. He doesn’t have eyes; that makes it a little easier, doesn’t it?

But none of those little details made it easier for him, not in the slightest. He hungered, and he knew he’d eventually have to deal with it… but he wanted to put it off as long as he could. “I know what I have to do,” he said softly. “I know I can’t escape this forever, but… just please, not yet. I’m still not ready.”

Azvida drew a very long breath, then released it slowly and heavily. “All right,” she said, sounding troubled but not at all surprised. “I got the feeling you weren’t. That’s why I kept him alive.”

“Thank you,” Solonn responded. “But next time… don’t hesitate to do it, all right? I don’t think I’ll be willing to… to take one at first.”

Azvida nodded. The look in her eyes told him that part of her wanted to keep trying to convince him to accept the offering, but she said nothing more for the time being, picking the zubat back up and carrying him away in silence.

You’ll get used to it, Solonn tried to reassure himself. You’ll get through this somehow. But there was part of him that still couldn’t help but doubt that he ever would. And the notion that his only options were to do something he hated or else perish was difficult to bear.

Azvida returned shortly, this time without the zubat, and immediately began moving onward again. Solonn followed her with an eagerness that belied his weariness, hoping he was right when he’d guessed that their journey was near its end. Maybe finally getting to meet his father after having believed he was dead for all these years would help take his mind off of his own physical obligations, at least for a while.

It wasn’t much longer before they reached their destination, but the relief Solonn had anticipated was dampened somewhat when he actually laid eyes on the place itself. He and his mother now hovered at the edge of a fairly wide and deep hole.

“All right… so exactly how are we supposed to get down there?” Solonn asked, peering cautiously into the dark chasm. His question went unanswered, and when he turned toward Azvida to find out why, he recognized at once that she was deeply focused on something. Her eyes were nearly closed, letting only a sliver of blue light seep through.

Around the edges of the hole, ice began to form. It spread inward until the chasm was completely covered, and it was only then that Azvida emerged from her apparent trance.

“Move onto the ice,” she said. “I’ll lower you into the chamber that way.”

Solonn just stared at the platform for a moment, wondering how that solution hadn’t occurred to him. He then did as he was instructed, making sure to leave enough space on the platform for Azvida to join him… but Azvida did no such thing. Puzzled, Solonn turned a questioning gaze toward her, and Azvida’s eyes shifted aside awkwardly.

“I think I’d prefer to wait outside,” she said very quietly. “This time, at least,” she added hastily when she saw her son’s brows draw together in disappointment. “I think… maybe this moment should be just for the two of you, after all these years apart.”

Solonn saw right through her reasoning, though, and she knew it. “I’m sorry… I just don’t think things have healed enough between us yet. I’m not quite ready to face him again,” she admitted, “but, if you really want me to…”

Solonn looked at her sadly for a moment, wishing she hadn’t put her decision into his figurative hands like that. He liked the idea of having both of his parents together with him, a complete family once more, even if only for a little while. But at the same time, he didn’t really want to drag Azvida into a situation that might make her uncomfortable, especially after she’d already battled her fears just to give him this opportunity.

“No, that’s all right,” he said softly. You’ve done enough for me today, he added silently with a weary heart.

Azvida smiled in response, but her guilt kept it weak. She slipped back into her trance, and the ice platform began to descend with a slithering, scraping noise. Moments later, it reached the floor of the chasm, where it dissipated into vapor just as Solonn resumed his levitation.

The shaft he’d descended through opened into a large cavern that connected to another chamber via an imperfect archway. The room in which he currently hovered was entirely empty, but he could hear something in the adjacent one: a rushing, rumbling sound with a distinct rhythm. He could see something stretching clear across that room, something silver that gave off a dim glow of body heat.

Slightly gingerly, Solonn approached the metallic creature in the other room. It was incredible enough that he was about to meet his father, but the exact nature of what he was about to meet impressed itself upon him more than ever. He’d only ever seen steelix in movies—he’d never encountered anything quite like one live and in person before. As he drew nearer, he felt a deep, very primal unease start welling up inside him.

With a faint annoyance, he tried to silence the instinct. His element isn’t important, he told himself firmly. But he was only partly successful.

Nonetheless, he got through the rough-hewn archway, and his perception was immediately monopolized by the enormous creature occupying the chamber beyond. The steelix almost completely surrounded Solonn, his long, segmented body wrapped in an open ring that went nearly all the way around the stone chamber.

Grosh was fast asleep, oblivious to his visitor. Solonn was apprehensive about waking the steelix up—interrupting a good nap might not be the best first impression to make. But all the same, it’d been over two decades since they’d seen each other…

Solonn was torn between these two angles for a short time, but then Grosh stirred unexpectedly, his segments rotating lazily with a grinding noise as he stretched. His broad head lifted slowly, and his heavy jaws opened to let out a yawn that made the walls and floor shudder. He opened his eyes halfway, blinking slowly with an unfocused gaze turned toward the wall.

Now that Grosh was awake, Solonn figured he didn’t need to hesitate any longer. He ignored the instinct within him that still begged to differ. His heart racing, he drew closer to Grosh, trying to calm himself with steadying breaths as he approached. He inhaled deeply one last time, and then, “Father?” he said.

His nervousness had weakened his voice somewhat, and he wondered at first if Grosh hadn’t heard him; the steelix was giving no indication that he had. Solonn watched him with bated breath and was about to try to get his attention again, but then he saw Grosh’s head perk up suddenly, rising almost all the way to the ceiling in little more than an instant. Solonn looked up toward him and saw his father’s red eyes widen and shift his way in their deep, dark sockets, locking into his gaze.

“Hello, Father,” Solonn spoke up again, more steadily this time.

Silence hovered over the room. Then it was shattered to pieces by a thunderous, positively jubilant peal of laughter. “Well, I’ll be!” Grosh exclaimed heartily in a very deep, metallic-edged voice. “Solonn, right?” he said, at which the glalie nodded. “Ah, I’d hoped to death I’d get to see you again someday!”

Solonn couldn’t help but smile at his father’s elation. The steelix slithered in a circle around him, looking him over. “By God, look at how you’ve grown since the last time I saw you!” Grosh said as he stopped to face Solonn again, his eyes shining with tears of pride. “To think how long it’s been since then…” He sighed wistfully. “I reckon we’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” he said, then gave a slightly growling chuckle.

“I suppose we do,” Solonn agreed, still smiling.

“So. What sorts of things have you been up to all this time, hmm?” Grosh asked.

“Well, not much, really,” Solonn replied, “at least, not before a human found me.” He gave Grosh a brief, carefully edited account of what had happened after his capture, still uncomfortable with discussing some of his stranger and more terrible experiences, still mindful that certain details in that story would give away his linguistic abilities.

Still, he felt a bit guilty about keeping things from someone who’d waited so long just to get the chance to talk to him; he figured that Grosh at least deserved an explanation for the withheld information. “I’m sorry,” Solonn said. “I’d like to go into more detail, but… well, I’ve only just gotten away from it all. I don’t feel like I’m ready to talk about some of the things that happened.”

“Understandable,” Grosh said in a kindly tone. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t feel comfortable with.

“Well then, I reckon it’s my turn. How about I start by telling you how your mother and I met and where I’ve been all these years?”

“Sure,” Solonn said. He was genuinely curious, particularly with regards to how Azvida could have gotten involved with the likes of Grosh in the first place. He sat down and looked attentively toward the steelix.

“All right,” Grosh said, settling himself back into a more relaxed position. “Now, I’ll warn you: it’s not the happiest story you’ll ever hear, but it’s the truth. Your mother and I met in an awful place after we’d both wound up with the same human, who’d stolen us from our original captors.”

“Wait… my mother has seen humans before?” Solonn asked, surprised.

“That’s right,” Grosh said. “She got caught by one when she was about… oh, ten years your junior, I believe.”

There was another thing Azvida had never told Solonn. It was incredible to think that she’d been taken by humans and then stolen from the one who’d originally caught her, just like he had. But he quickly ceased to be surprised that she hadn’t told him about her time with the humans. It was too deeply connected to her time with Grosh.

“Anyway,” Grosh went on, “the human who kept us made us fight other pokémon nearly all day and every day, and when I say fight, I mean hard. Those were rough times, and Azvida and I had nothing but each other. I looked after the poor girl, did everything I could for her, and she put all her trust in me.

“We fought for that creep for quite a while, and then one morning, he decided to go and toss us into the ocean while we were in our capture balls for the night. Can you believe it?” he said with a chuckle.

“Hm… yeah, that is pretty strange,” Solonn said. “Do you have any idea why he did that?”

“Well, what I suspect is that someone found out he’d stolen us, and so he ditched us to get rid of the evidence. Ah, I hope that slimebag didn’t get away with it in the end, though…

“So. These grass pokémon found our capture balls out in the water, brought us back to their island, let us out, and told us what had happened. They also mentioned that they knew about a cave to the north where Azvida’s kind was rumored to live. We didn’t know for sure if it was really where she’d come from, but after her ordeal, she wanted to go back home badly enough to check it out. I decided to go with her just to keep an eye on her and help her stay safe… I’d come to care about her quite a lot by then.” Grosh smiled wistfully in the wake of that last statement.

“Two of the grass pokémon swam to the cave, carrying us in our capture balls, and they let us out once we were there,” he then said. “Azvida and I searched through the cave for some time, looking for signs of her warren… and that’s when, much to our surprise, along came your egg.

“Well, Azvida had been acting strangely nervous ever since she’d been told about this cave, but once the egg came into the picture, it got even worse. It came to a head when we finally found the border of her homeland—that’s when I found out what she was so worried about.”

Solonn averted his gaze, feeling a vicarious sort of guilt come over him. “I’m sorry for the way she treated you,” he said sincerely.

“Don’t be,” Grosh said gently. “You know you’re not at fault here, not in the least. I’m not even entirely sure it was her fault, either—the things fear can make people do… Some part of her really seemed to want me to go ahead with her regardless of what anyone might think, but the rest of her was just too scared of what they might do. In the end, I agreed to leave despite how much I wanted to stay—I didn’t want for you and your mother to have to live in fear.

“We crossed paths again one day while she was out hunting—she said she’d just so happened to come by this way, but I have my doubts. She said she still felt bad about how we’d had to part ways, and she told me where she was living at the time and said that maybe I could sneak in sometime and see you after you were born.

“I took her up on that offer, but only once. I was there when you were born, but I left right after.” He drew a long, slow breath. “I was too worried about causing trouble for her… and I thought it would be easier for me to give you two up if I didn’t give myself much of a chance to get too attached to you,” he admitted almost voicelessly. The steelix bowed his head deeply in shame, his long neck nearly doubling over on itself. He gave a deep, shuddering sigh, and tears began to trace the contours of his armored face as they slid toward the floor.

It was a while before either of them could speak again. Grosh wept for moments on end, seemingly unable to do anything else, while Solonn was hushed by the weight of the steelix’s sorrow. Finally, “It’s all right,” Solonn said quietly. His father’s gaze lifted slowly from the floor, his eyes bloodshot and still shedding silent tears. “I don’t blame you for anything you did. I understand… you have nothing to be ashamed of,” Solonn told him.

A low, metallic noise resonated deep within the steelix’s chest, and uncertainty showed through his features. “I don’t know about that,” he said doubtfully. “I think I most definitely ought to be ashamed for not trying to get back into your life even once during all those years—especially considering I’ve been here this whole time.”

Solonn was momentarily stupefied—how in the world had a thirty-foot-long metal serpent been living in the area for so long without anyone noticing? “So… what’ve you been doing all this time?” Solonn asked once his wits returned.

“Oh, you’re not going to like the answer to that…” Grosh half-sighed.

“Try me,” Solonn said evenly.

“All right… all right. I knew it was going to be hard as hell to resist the urge to come back to you two, so I sent myself into hibernation here. Some desperate part of me actually thought that if I let enough time pass me by, then it’d be easier to live without you and your mother. I should’ve known better.”

He gave a sad smile. “When I finally couldn’t stay dormant any longer, you two were the very first things on my mind, and when I realized how much time must’ve passed, I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I rushed right into that warren, made a scene looking for her after I found out she no longer lived where she used to—I was so worried about getting her into trouble, and then look what I went and did.” Grosh shook his head, growling to himself in shame. “I abandoned you both to try and protect you, only to fail you to that end. I don’t think I could ever apologize enough.”

“Yes, you can,” Solonn said softly. “As long as you mean it, you only need to apologize once.” He lifted himself from the floor and moved closer to Grosh until he hovered directly under the steelix’s gaze. “You have nothing to worry about,” he assured his father, looking right into his eyes. “Whatever anyone thinks of you, whatever they try and do about it, I can take care of myself, and I’ll take care of my mother, too. You haven’t ruined things, Father. Coming back into the picture was the first step toward setting everything right again.”

Grosh stared silently into his son’s face for a moment, into the sincerity in those eyes. A broad grin spread slowly across the steelix’s face, and he swallowed back a fresh surge of tears. “You’re right,” he said. “There’ll always be people who’ll hold on to wicked ways no matter what we do. But we still deserve to be happy.”

He sighed peacefully. “Guess this is like starting over, in a sense,” he said. “I made my mistakes, she made hers, and we’ve both paid for them by missing out on the family we could’ve had all this time. But now… well, now it’s like we’re getting a second chance.”
 
In the middle of helping to open a restaurant this week, a thought occurred to me: “I haven’t read about the sentient klondike bar in a while”. If reading were checking up with the parole officer and reviewing was staying under house arrest, then I’d be a felon, not to imply I’m not already one.

Recap episode ~ Solgryn still human, bad times abound. My perception is irrevocably warped by my lack of months of keep-up. Maybe this will lead to an entirely new perspective.

13 chapter - In the garden of cabbages, the one eyed glalie is king

All things considered, Solonnn is taking this whole thing in relative stride. Given that there’s no real standard of comparison in the entirety of human knowledge for gaining legs and arms you can actually *feel*, we can only wonder what most people would do in this situation. Like, we already got arm and leg, so let’s extrapolate from the reverse. Losing limbs and gaining limbs share a connotation of being somewhat unnatural. Sure, many pokemon gain limbs and perhaps this whole deal wouldn’t have been as bad if So-n goku-lonn (that one was painful) evolved the way of the Froslass and got some of those sweet ear hands. But, suffice to say, Solonn doesn’t get the benefit of the doubt. Anyway, aside from being the unwilling heir apparent to the throne of “utopia”, he’s pretty good.

Ever the captive audience, Solonn graciously allows himself to be taught the lay of his penthouse suit / prison, which comes with aesthetic statues, and a curious remote chair that sounds like something out of Austin Powers. The features of this place sort of bring to mind an exhibition, all the bells, whistles, knots, and cords hanging out like a showroom floor.

For being a wise leader, Jal’tai seems remarkably ill-equipped to manage the grand plan he’s come up with. Even if it were a long-con, he’s too invested in actually taking care of his successor-elect. I suppose the greater-good stuff went to his head and turned his brain into mush. That happens a lot when you broaden your scope too much.

14 chapter - JAL’TAI LOOK, AN ALIEN

Solonn gets so dirty that Iat’laj finally takes the hint and directly schedules mentally induced stockholm syndrome. This has the unintentional benefit of clearing Solonn’s loathing enough that he realizes it would be better to run away. He’s not very good at it. Mal’t liquor at least has decent security if not the pragmatism necessary to run a city, let alone a nation. That being said, maybe he gets points for being at least nice enough to try. Like, a quarter of a point. He loses it too because the guards already know what Solonn-as-person looks like, so he kind of expected it anyway.

15 chapter - Icepick lobotomy

He admits as much to no one’s surprise, but plays it off as a kind of secret test of character. Ever the optimist, Jal-gel-’tai traps Solonn in the anime mind prison, one of the perks of pretending to be moral, but not really following through. Thus, Solonn’s fate is now in the hands of the goddess of the most desirable rent stabilized city west of Mossdeep, Ray Liotta - at least, that’s what I think Rei’eli stands for.

Perhaps a re-evaluation of Jal’tai is necessary; it doesn’t seem like his first rodeo in mental manipulation, so he’s got a little pragmatism. In terms of doing what needs to be done? Maybe a help-wanted ad would have worked better.

Chapter chapter 16 chapter - Mr. Anderson does exactly what is asked of him

Jal’tai goes on a whirlwind tour of the past, armed with a set of crayons to draw angry eyebrows on Solonn when necessary and turn that frown upside-down, all topped off with a fake seizure. The process sounds kind of like how music was edited before digital, cutting and re-piecing tape. I mean, One Piece literally does exactly this, with a character that can pull memories out of someone’s head like a movie reel and cut it. But that’s like chapter 900-something, so even if the manga started in 1997, you got the idea across first.

New Solonn is ready to go. Lord only knows how he’d be able to convince the next successor in line to do this stuff. Convergence is not future proofed.

17 - “Solonn, I took the liberty of enrolling you in school, since you act like a damn child”

The crew slices life so hard, you’d be forgiven for thinking it’s a romcom. Realistically, Juul-tool is so old, he’s probably killed hundreds by himself. Convergence is just his way of coping, Solonn his vicarious legacy. Erecting statues of philosophers of all people is a dangerous game. Who knows, Aphilicus-kun might have been worth the effort, but glorifying a man is also glorifying his bias, no? Like, if you made a statue of Freud, there might be the auspicious intent of striving towards knowledge, but you’re still gonna get the side-eye. Meron’s all right though, the proof is what you make of it. That’s why no one ever gets angry at the sad dog statue in Japan. Wilhelm Steinitz was the first world chess champion, and that’s a real smart game, but it doesn’t change the fact that he was obscenely awful at managing money. Don’t know if that makes a good point.

Sol- er, Michael, the archangel, is all set to go with internet classes. Sure as hell beats Prager. But what can Exeter teach Michlonn about governing? Gonna show him how a leveraged buyout works?

Chapter 81 - wow, can you really believe there was 64 chapters of just going to school?

Four years of practicing statesmanship would net most people a position as a commenter on NBC. Such is the curse of non-democratic institutions, Jal’tai the effervescent autocratic dictator retiring ostentatiously to start a career in speaking engagements. These citizens really out here with a ponytail for a mayor, political niceties of appearance be damned. I suppose that’s an extension of my fervent hope that Vermin Supreme will finally be respected as a presidential candidate.

If Solayne truthfully will miss Jay-Z, is it still true if it comes from an untrue basis? The erstwhile mayor says he cares about his city, but leaves it anyway. Hey, if you have to leave to save the world, just say so. Don’t bother with the theatrics.

19th chapter - Jal’tai, you have been chopped

In the distant past, thusly it is implied that Jal’tai was branded a loser after taping over Mew’s Judge Judy episodes or something. Should have invented Blockbuster dummy.

A secret city, full of people and pokemon, seems difficult to hide from even the upper echelons of society. Like, vows of secrecy are great and all, but has this city been filling it’s apartments with death row inmates and breeding rejects? The IPL has an astronomical amount of clout to dally around with this stuff, and they clearly know how to keep a good secret.

Not that it’s worth much when Miclonn drops the ball again and turns back into a ball of ice.

Chapter twenty - Man, how you sit up if you a glalie? Go the fuck back to sleep

So like- Jal’tai is just the ultimate loser. Spent years in the long con convincing a parrot made of ice to take over his hippie community, and now all humans have sleepy bitch disease. Tragic for him, but great for Solonn! His friends might be dying, but the iceman is back in business. Does having two sets of nigh identical memories cause any problems? Like, phantom pain, but in the brain. Even if he can tell which one is real, it sounds like such a headache.

21th Chapter - Remember when you fell down the equivalent of a garbage chute in a three stooges skit? Wack...

S E V E N T E E N F E E T D I A M E T E R

T W E N T Y S E V E N I N C H H O R N

Solonn - king of the glalie, prince of shoal cavern, pretty good friends with this old guy that collects salt in the cave

It’s impolite to ask a glalie for their teeth measurements you know. If they spend their lives living together in that cave, what the hell do they talk about all day? Social gatherings invariably turn to meanderings; how many traffic lights you ran today, or that level 100 caterpie. The community at large shuns Azvida, probably because she went at it with a pre-ordained Jerry Springer participant. Oh well, all is well in a happy family, maybe Solonn’s step dad will teach him some carpentry.

Chapter 22st - The Orc-father by Martin Scorbunny

When it comes to pokemon writing, I could care less about egg groups. I don’t know if the odd couple share it or not, and quite frankly I don’t care, albeit if I had to guess, they probably are. Customs are a strange hat, though it makes sense in some manner why Steelix among other things would be frowned upon. This is like that episode of the anime where Bruno pulls the Sandslash out of the Onix, you can probably fit like 5 Glalie in a Steelix. What a fantastic economy of space! Really it’s more Truman show parallels though.


Wow, what a turnaround. Politics, paternity, and pain all in one go. Solonn sure has a raucous life. This human dying thing is just a transitory thing- one of those paradigm shifts business people talk about. All it takes is one enterprising pokemon to pick up the undertaking business and BAm, post-human capitalism. Karl Marx eat your heart out.

I’m all out for now. As the French say, celebii.
 

Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
Location
*aurorus noise*
Partner
glalie
Raggy:
Jal’tai goes on a whirlwind tour of the past, armed with a set of crayons to draw angry eyebrows on Solonn when necessary and turn that frown upside-down, all topped off with a fake seizure.
This description made me like that chapter so much more.

I did the worst laugh at "Juul-tool", meanwhile, so thanks for that. :p

I'm pretty sure both of the people with statues at the school have no shortage of skeletons in their closets. I don't know what a dino-dragon-thing needs with a closet in the first place, but yeah.

I wouldn't be surprised to learn that someone or another out there would have genuinely liked for the Convergence arc, and for that matter most if not all of the others, to be 64 chapters long, or at least a good deal longer than they turned out. Which is something of a flattering thought, but at the same time I ultimately have no real regrets about the length and structure of this thing. If it were much longer than it turned out to be, I'd probably still be writing. Believe me when I say I retired for a reason. :B

Man, how you sit up if you a glalie?
How indeed. I think I'll go ahead and toss this oldish glalie anatomy headcanon post in, because why the heck not. :B

Thanks lots for the read 'n' reply! :D
 
Chapter 23

Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
Location
*aurorus noise*
Partner
glalie
Chapter 23 – Family Matters


Silently, determinedly, and swiftly as he could, Solonn made his way through a bare-walled, nearly empty network of stone tunnels, alone. He knew, as always, that the slightest hesitance could dismantle his willingness to proceed.

Like a passenger in his own mind, he let his instinct guide him, but didn’t lose himself in it completely. This was as conscious an endeavor as it had ever been—he’d always acknowledge the impact and cost of it, never allowing himself to trivialize the matter if he could help it. Though he’d hunted countless times since he’d accepted the need to do so, he was no fonder of it than he’d ever been. For him, it was nothing less and nothing more than the obligation that it was, something demanded but not desired.

His senses remained on high alert, trained toward the particular telltales of his quarry. It wasn’t much longer before he found it. He followed a faint sound of beating wings until the glow of heat confirmed the find.

He closed his eyes for a long, solemn moment. Silently, he apologized to the creature he’d targeted and sent a prayer to the gods, asking them for the safe and sure deliverance of the soul he was about to send their way. He called upon his element, and it responded with an echoing crack. Wings crumpled as their lifeless owner dropped to the floor. The sole witness to her fall drifted forward silently and looked down at her for a short time before closing his eyes and opening his jaws.

Solonn kept respectfully silent as he fed, and when nothing remained of the zubat, he left the scene without hesitation. He looked forward to returning home and not having to hunt again for at least another day. It helped somewhat that he didn’t have to feed nearly as often as he had when he was human, or even quite as often as Morgan had fed him. With the habits of humans and of pokémon kept and pampered by them left largely behind, his body had relaxed its expectations somewhat.

It had been well over a year since he’d returned to Virc-Dho. During that time, Solonn had gotten as used to life as a glalie in the natural setting of his kind as he could, and he’d grown accustomed to the much slower pace of life in the warren.

But even now, there were aspects of Virc society he didn’t quite understand. His friends and family had introduced him to all that they knew of their culture, and he did as he observed them doing. Yet even to this very day, he felt like there was more to the ways of his people than he could see.

Beyond the people he knew personally, the Virc community in general made no effort to bring him into the fold. Though the commotion Grosh had caused was hardly recent, some of its effects still lingered. The fact of the matter was that the origins of those reactions traced back much farther than that single incident.

By and large, the people seemed to know exactly what Solonn was, exactly how he’d come about. They showed him no open hostility—he suspected they were too intimidated by his stature to do so. Still, nearly every time he was in public, at least some of their eyes and faces shifted conspicuously away from him, stealing glances to watch him without seeming to watch him, and he swore he could feel the tension in the air.

Solonn had tried for a while to get through to them, to make them own up to their fears and try to overcome them, but they would not be moved. He’d come to realize firsthand just how deeply ingrained their attitudes were. They were unlikely to change for anyone, let alone a hybrid.

Though still disappointed in their behavior, he no longer tried to get them to treat him the same way they treated each other. To the best of his ability, he instead focused on just living his life like anyone else, regardless of what others thought of him.

After a few minutes’ traveling through the warren, Solonn arrived at what had been his home for the past several months. Jeneth had acquired it for him shortly after its previous owner had passed away. It wasn’t the roomiest place in the warren, but since he lived alone, that suited him just fine.

He’d been less satisfied with the featureless, ice-glazed walls of this place. He’d picked up a preference toward more visually stimulating surroundings as a human, and it had yet to wear off. So he’d decorated the cavern with patterns and images etched into the walls and sculptures raised from the material of the floor, décor that was changed every now and again to keep things interesting.

His passion for ice artistry kept him occupied much of the time in these days. He usually practiced by himself, simply enjoying the serene unity with his element. Just as ever, it offered an escape from the ordinary that he dearly appreciated—especially now that his life contained things he doubted he’d ever be completely comfortable with.

Occasionally, his family or Zilag’s watched him work. He wasn’t interested in performing for a larger audience. He doubted many of the locals would be particularly interested in such a display anyway, and not just because of whom and what he was. Dancing ice wasn’t the exotic spectacle here that it was in the outside world; here, he was just one more ice controller out of hundreds. Any glalie could pull off his art form with equal or greater skill if they practiced as long and as diligently as he had.

He was about to conjure up yet another display, contemplating a number of shapes he might like to sculpt and carve this time, when he heard Jeneth calling to him from the entrance of his cavern. Once he’d unsealed the entrance for him, Solonn got an announcement that immediately drove those ideas away.

“We think it’s happening,” Jeneth said almost breathlessly, his eyelight bright with excitement.

Solonn’s eyes immediately widened. “Is it really?”

Jeneth nodded. “It started moving just before I left,” he said, “and moving a lot. From the looks of it—” He paused as a momentary thrill stole his breath. “—it may very well hatch tonight.”

“Ah, that’s wonderful!” Solonn said, beaming. “Well, come on then; we don’t want to risk missing it!”

The two left with no further delay, hurrying toward the cavern where Jeneth and Azvida lived. They’d anticipated this event with great enthusiasm, for it’d been quite long in the making. For years, Jeneth and Azvida had tried to conceive an egg, to no avail. They were on the verge of losing hope of ever having a child together when, to their immense joy and relief, they finally succeeded. Now, months later, the baby that they’d so dearly wished for would arrive at long last.

As soon as the barrier was in sight, Jeneth removed it with unprecedented speed. Once inside, he and Solonn rushed past the main cavern and into the small chamber where the egg sat, watched by its mother.

Just as Jeneth had said, the egg was much more active now than when Solonn had last laid eyes on it. It was shaking so wildly that if it weren’t for the ring of ice and packed snow that Azvida had mindfully raised around it, it could have easily just rolled right into the nearest wall.

Azvida didn’t look away from the egg for even a second, but she caught Jeneth and Solonn entering the room in the edge of her vision and smiled at them.

“Any moment now,” she all but whispered, her eyes bright, “any moment…”

Solonn and Jeneth sat down, and together the three glalie eagerly waited for the egg to hatch. It kept on shaking… but as minute after minute passed, the shell remained intact.

Solonn’s brows drew together in worry. While he’d never watched an egg hatch before, he was sure the baby shouldn’t be struggling for this long before breaking free. He glanced at the others, and the troubled looks on their faces only reinforced that concern.

“This isn’t right…” Azvida’s voiced was strained. “This isn’t right at all… Dear gods, I don’t think they can get out!”

Jeneth rose from the floor and came to hover directly above the egg. He swallowed nervously. “We’re going to have to help them out, then,” he said tensely.

Fleeting apprehension crossed Azvida’s face at the thought of what Jeneth seemed to be proposing, but then she gave a quick nod of agreement. “All right,” she said. “Be quick, but please be careful.”

“Don’t worry,” Jeneth assured her. He leaned toward the egg, his jaws parting. Azvida and Solonn watched him with bated breath, hoping this ordeal was soon to end.

But before Jeneth could lay a single tooth upon the egg, it blew apart right in his face.

Azvida cried out and turned away in an instant. Jeneth went reeling backwards, spitting fragments of eggshell from his mouth and shaking them from his face. Solonn shut his eyes and raised a protect shield around himself. For seconds after, the three remained frozen in shock, unable to think, forgetting to breathe. Finally, fearfully, they dared to look at the nest of ice and snow where the egg had been.

What they found there calmed their initial shock somewhat, but only increased their bewilderment. There, amid the debris of his explosive birth, a newborn male sat completely unscathed, nibbling daintily and serenely at a handful of the surrounding snow as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

The three glalie could only stare dumbfounded at him for a long moment, gathering their wits, still shaken after what they’d just witnessed. Finally, “Gods… what in the hell just happened?” Jeneth managed.

“No idea,” Azvida responded breathlessly, her eyes still wide with disbelief, her brow still knitted in confusion and concern. “None whatsoever… I just hope he’s really going to be all right now…”

The three glalie kept a long watch over the newborn to make sure of just that. By the evening’s end, they were certain that there was no further strangeness in store for the child, and with that reassurance, they could finally, truly take joy in their new arrival. Before long, they chose a name for him, officially welcoming Jeneth Marasahn Zgil-Al into the family.

* * *​

Through the years that followed, life became richer and easier for the family. Eventually, venturing out into public became less of an ordeal for Jeneth and Azvida; the hostility and blame toward the latter for Grosh showing up finally seemed to have faded into the past. Consequently, young Jeneth, or simply Jen as he liked to be called, was accepted into his place in society readily. Now old enough to spend time in the snowgrounds, he’d had decent success in making friends.

As for Solonn, his appearance still inspired a little mistrust and discomfort here and there. Not that it upset him too much, though. He was just as content with the company of his family and Zilag’s as he’d been for years now. As long as he had their support, he felt no real need for the approval of strangers.

Though he usually paid his friends and family visits rather than the other way around—their homes, designed for multiple inhabitants, were better suited for entertaining guests—one or more of them occasionally showed up at his figurative door. Such was the case today, when the tapping of a horn against the barrier outside pulled his attention away from the helix he’d conjured in the middle of the floor. He dissipated the barrier and found Azvida and Jeneth hovering there, with Jen standing in front of them and looking a bit antsy.

“Ah, hi!” Solonn greeted them warmly. “Come on in.” He cleared the floor to make more room for his three visitors, taking a quick mental snapshot of the ice sculptures in hopes of being able to replicate them once his company left, and moved aside to let the three in.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Azvida told him with a hint of guilt at the trouble he’d already gone to for their sake. “We’re just dropping Jen off here, if that’s all right—he wants to be taken to the snowgrounds later, but he said he wanted to come see you first.”

“We were hoping you could take him there when he’s ready so that your mother and I can go ahead to the temple. We’re wanting to get there as soon as possible so that we can get back and… try again,” Jeneth said, lowering his voice on those last two words.

Solonn knew exactly what Jeneth meant by that, and he did an admirable job of keeping his unease off his face. Jeneth and Azvida wanted another child, but they’d had even less luck thus far than they’d had the first time around. No doubt they were heading to the temple to offer more prayers for things to change for the better.

“Sure, that’s fine with me,” Solonn said. He’d had plans to go up and spend some time with his father, but that could wait, especially since it seemed like it wouldn’t have to wait for long. “I suppose you’ll be picking him up from there later?”

Azvida nodded. She then looked down toward Jen. “Be good, all right?” she instructed him. “Remember: I’ll know if you don’t.”

Jen gave her a slightly nervous look. “Okay,” he said. “Bye!”

“Bye,” his parents returned in near-unison, smiling, then departed.

Jen entered the living room proper then, and Solonn restored the ice barrier behind him. The snorunt went to a spot just a little off the center of the room, stopped there, and looked for a moment like he was going to sit down, but he paused in mid-motion and straightened his posture once more.

Solonn noticed a distinct look of unease on the snorunt’s face, which brought a concerned frown to his own. “Is something the matter?” he asked. He wondered if Jen had figured out that his parents were trying to have another child. Maybe the snorunt felt like they were replacing him or something. Maybe he just wanted Solonn to assure him that getting a younger sibling wasn’t the end of the world after all.

Or maybe Jen had mentioned little siblings to his friends, the subject of where such things came from had come up, and he was seeking confirmation from Solonn regarding that matter. Solonn sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case.

“Well… I need you to do something,” Jen said.

Solonn looked at him with a mixture of puzzlement and relief; somehow Jen’s response didn’t seem like anything that would lead into having to explain eggs or anything of that nature. Where it was leading, he couldn’t guess. “And what might that be?”

Jen took a deep breath, none too keen on elaborating. Not meeting Solonn’s gaze, “I… did something stupid,” he finally admitted, sounding and looking quite embarrassed.

“Oh… Well… I’m sure it can’t have been that bad…” Solonn said, sitting down.

“It is,” Jen insisted. He shook his head. “Why? Why’d I say that?” he muttered to himself, turning and beginning to pace as he spoke.

Solonn briefly watched the snorunt move in a small figure-eight in the middle of the room. “Well, what did you say?” he asked gently. “And to whom?”

Jen let out a loud, annoyed sigh, though Solonn suspected Jen was directing it toward himself. The snorunt finally got himself to hold still. “I told my friends I could make stuff with ice. You know, like you do. And they said ‘prove it’, and I said I would next time I went over there.” He took another deep breath, then forced himself to look Solonn in the eyes as steadily as possible. “So I need you to come with me and do it for me. Like… hide outside and make things made out of ice appear in there so it’ll look like I’m doing it.”

There was a hint of desperation in Jen’s voice that suggested he didn’t really have much faith in that plan. Solonn had none in it whatsoever. “Jen… sooner or later, they’re going to figure out you didn’t mean it about being able to do that… I can’t be there every time.”

Jen finally sat down, looking only a little disappointed; he’d expected that sort of answer, really. “And you can’t just show me how to do it,” he said. He’d already learned long ago that that sort of control over ice was simply beyond a snorunt’s abilities.

Solonn gave a faint, sad sort of smile. “I’m afraid not. I’d be glad to if I could, but… well, it’s just something you have to find for yourself by really connecting to your element. You’ll be able to do that when you evolve. You’ll know when you feel that connection. There’s nothing else like it.”

“What’s it like?” Jen asked, tilting his head slightly in curiosity.

“It’s…” Solonn began, but just like that, he was at a loss for words. He tried to describe it, calling on memories of past experiences with it… and as he did, he fell into the sensation in the present. The ice on the floor in front of him answered the unintentional call of those straying thoughts, snaking upward and resuming the helical shape it had held before, with wispy little projections growing from the main body of the sculpture and another, smaller helix rising up through its center.

Solonn only realized after the fact that he’d fallen silent and shut his eyes; when he opened them, he saw what he’d done and gave a faint, apologetic laugh for letting himself get carried away. “Whoops,” he said. “Anyway… there’s really no way I could explain what it’s like or how wonderful it is,” he admitted. “And that feeling, that connection… that’s where this comes from,” he told Jen, nodding toward the ice sculpture. “Whenever you connect to the element, this is what can happen.” Maybe this display had specifically happened because the experience of being one with the element was so hard to put into words, Solonn mused silently. Maybe this was the only way he or anyone else of his kind could adequately express that connection.

Jen leveled a stare at the ice formation in front of him for a moment. Then he screwed his eyes shut, his brow creasing in concentration. A couple of seconds later, his eyes popped open again. “…Hey, I think it moved!” he said, gesturing toward one of the thin branches growing out of the main helix.

It hadn’t moved an inch, but Solonn didn’t have the heart to correct him too bluntly. “Well, one day, you won’t just think you made it move. You’ll know when you have.”

Jen made a frustrated noise. “I don’t want to have to wait to evolve to do it, though.” His eyes shifted up to Solonn’s again. “Hey…” he began slowly. “Maybe… maybe I could go ahead and evolve right now. And maybe you could help me.”

“Not unless you want to risk losing your mind,” Solonn told him, his tone serious. “And at your age, I think there’s next to no chance that wouldn’t happen. Evolving brings a kind of power we have to be ready for, and that takes time. If you get it before you’re ready, you could go insane. You wouldn’t even be able to think of making anything out of ice. And if I helped you go insane, Mother and Jeneth would never forgive me. And I’d never forgive myself.”

The light in Jen’s eyes flickered, fading slightly. Whether or not he believed Solonn’s claims, the glalie couldn’t tell for certain, but at least Jen didn’t seem inclined to take the risk. The snorunt sighed once again. “What am I gonna do, then?” he asked.

“Well… all you really can do is tell the truth. Again, they’re going to figure it out sooner or later—you should really probably just get it over with.”

Jen looked aside, worried. “I bet they’re gonna beat me up for lying.”

“They probably won’t,” Solonn tried to assure him. “They’d better not, anyway. If they even so much as look at you like they want to, they’ll have Mother and Jeneth to deal with.”

That they would, and as he thought about it, he wondered if it might be prudent for Jen to tell Azvida and Jeneth about the situation before confronting the other kids so that his parents could defuse any potential problems before they arose. He considered not taking Jen to the snowgrounds at all and just watching him until his parents could return, postponing the trip into Shoal Cave if he had to.

That would mean Azvida and Jeneth would come back here after failing to find Jen at the snowgrounds, he realized as that course of action occurred to him. He could already picture Jeneth’s disapproving stare, could already hear Azvida chewing him out for giving them a scare, however brief. But he figured—or at least hoped—that things would be fine once he got the chance to explain everything.

So, “Maybe it would be a good idea to talk with Mother and Jeneth about this before you go back to the snowgrounds,” he suggested. “Would you rather just stay here and wait for them to come back?”

Jen considered this for a few moments. Then he shuddered. “I don’t want Mom and Dad to find out,” he said finally. “I’m more scared of Mom than I am of the other kids.” He stood then, turning toward the exit. “Come on… let’s go,” he said with resignation in his voice.

“All right,” Solonn said. He rose, unblocked the exit, and escorted Jen out, sealing the cavern off as they left it behind. His half-brother stayed silent all the way to the snowgrounds; Solonn didn’t try to provoke him into conversation, letting the snorunt focus on steeling himself for his confession.

He lingered at the entrance to the snowgrounds after bidding Jen goodbye; it seemed prudent to make sure the other children didn’t react too harshly to what Jen had to tell them. He still didn’t really anticipate too much trouble, but he was compelled nonetheless to stick around long enough to confirm that things would be all right. At the very least, he figured he should be there in a show of support for his half-brother.

Fortunately, the other kids seemed to take the news well enough. There were a couple of groans from among the small crowd in response to it, but they only sounded disappointed, not angry. Solonn heard “I knew it!” out of one of the snorunt and started to suspect that most of Jen’s friends shared a similar sentiment.

He saw some of their eyes find him, regarding him uneasily. He didn’t like it when children looked at him with anything at all like fear, and he frowned in regret. The snorunt watching him turned away quickly.

Jen met his gaze then, and Solonn gave him a reassuring nod. It’ll be all right, he told Jen silently, and as if to confirm that thought, the snorunt changed the subject, carrying on happily. Smiling, Solonn turned and went on his way.

Rather than head back home, he decided to go ahead and visit Grosh. Solonn knew the route that led to the chasm by heart at this point; things rarely changed along that path, and when they did, they were only minor changes.

Therefore it was a surprise, to say the very least, to find his usual path blocked by an unusual obstacle just as he was approaching the passageway out of the border-cavern—one that literally appeared out of thin air right in front of him. With virtually no time to react to it, momentarily blinded by its accompanying burst of light, Solonn collided face-first with the thing with a dull whumpf; sending whatever it was tumbling backward with a strange groaning noise.

Solonn regained his wits and vision fairly quickly after the collision. He looked off to the left, following the source of the odd sound, and what he saw surprised him greatly. Uttering a long string of rattling speech to themself, a claydol pitched and wobbled there as they tried to stabilize themself in midair.

“…Oth?” Solonn said, barely able to believe his eyes.

The claydol finally managed to right themself; once they did, they turned to face Solonn. <Oh, hello, Solonn,> they said, confirming his guess. <I am glad to have found you so quickly; I doubt I could have tracked you down any more successfully than I had done the times before. My apologies for my rather… awkward arrival,> Oth added.

“No harm done,” Solonn assured them. “…The times before?” he then echoed as the words registered with a delay.

Oth gave one of their pseudo-nods. <I have returned to this cavern many times since our parting. However, you were not in this vicinity on any of those occasions, and I regrettably had to terminate my search each of those times before I could find you… It shames me somewhat to admit this, but I did so because I could not tolerate the cold of these caverns for very long.>

“There’s no need to apologize for that; it’s not something you can help, after all. Anyway, since I’m here, I can try to keep you warm,” Solonn said.

<There is no need for you to try,> Oth said. <You are actually doing quite a good job of keeping the effects of this environment upon me at bay even as we speak.>

Solonn was momentarily surprised, but quickly realized that he’d probably employed this type of subconscious elemental control many times in the past. But even knowing that he didn’t have to make an effort to protect the claydol, he suspected he’d still feel compelled sometimes to make certain Oth was adequately guarded against their surroundings.

“So, then. How have you been?” Solonn asked amiably. “And what about the others?”

<We have fared well, relatively speaking,> Oth replied, <though largely, we have done so apart.>

“Oh?” Solonn frowned slightly, wondering what might have separated them. “What happened?”

<Ultimately, we all simply had our own paths to take,> Oth said. <Many of those in Lilycove wished to return to where they had lived prior to being acquired by humans, and Brett was among them. Aaron met another of his kind and chose to go with her to her home in the southwest. Only Raze chose to stay in Lilycove—I doubt she could ever bear to leave that place,> they said, their voice lowering on that statement.

Understanding shone through Solonn’s eyes at this; Lilycove was surely a place of tremendous sentimental importance to the skarmory. She’d been born there, after all, and she’d forged countless memories with the human she’d grown up with there. That city and those memories might be all she had left to hold on to of Morgan and the past.

<Brett, Aaron and Raze have all dedicated themselves to founding and raising families since you and I last spoke,> Oth went on. <Aaron and his mate Rhasth have had a young son together, Brett and Fiela have had two litters, and Raze and Eisen are awaiting the hatching of their first clutch of eggs.>

The thought of his old friends with children was one at which Solonn couldn’t help but chuckle. He was glad to know some kind of joy had befallen them since the sorrow that had hung over his last moments with them.

<As for Sei and I,> Oth said, <we were part of a team that served the effort to help people rebuild their lives after the day the humans died out. We freed those trapped in capture and storage devices, relocated those who needed it, helped those who did not know how to live without humans to fend for themselves capably and peacefully, and did what we could to dispel the chaos wherever they failed.

<Our work continued for quite some time after the human tragedy,> they went on. <It was not only our part of the world that was affected, but every part. Even to the best of our hopes and efforts to find otherwise… the unfortunate truth is that nothing remains of the human species. Nothing at all.>

There was a prolonged, heavy silence in the wake of those words. Solonn was almost at a loss for thought—he, like many, had feared that the human tragedy might have been global in its scope, but to actually hear it aloud, confirmed… “Did you or anyone else ever find out what really happened to them?” he managed at length. “Do you know what caused it?”

<Sadly, no,> Oth replied. <Though many have tried, none have succeeded in determining the origin of the Extinction.>

Another somber pause hung over the two before Oth resumed their account of what they, Sei, and the rest of those they’d worked with had done over the past few years. <Eventually, as things began to stabilize in much of the world, most of us finally went back to our own lives, but Sei… She is still out there, doing anything and everything she can for anyone who appears to have need of her. I think she may never consider her work to be done.>

“Hmm,” was all Solonn could say to that, nodding. Knowing Sei as he did, he wasn’t surprised. “And what have you been up to since your work was finished?”

<Not much. In addition to trying to contact you, I have been checking in on the others from time to time, making sure they were doing well and usually staying with them for a short time before moving on. Other than that… largely, I have simply roamed during these years. I have no single place to stay now, really…>

Oth fell silent, and a strange, faraway look entered their many eyes. The claydol seemed to have arrived at a difficult subject, and Solonn felt sorry for anything he might have said to lead them there, averting his gaze self-consciously. Oth seemed to recognize the awkwardness that had fallen over the situation and moved to remedy it at once. <So, what has been going on in your life?> they asked, changing the subject.

“Well, truth be told, I haven’t really been up to anything interesting,” Solonn admitted lightheartedly. “And I haven’t got any kids of my own… but my mother found a new mate, and they’ve had a son together.”

<Oh? How fortunate for them!> Oth said.

Solonn smiled. “Indeed. And also… you might find this hard to believe, but… my father returned.”

All of the claydol’s eyes blinked in unison. <Your father?> they said incredulously. <I did not know that he still lived!>

“Neither did I, for a while,” Solonn said. “But he is indeed very much alive. As a matter of fact, I was on my way to visit him when you arrived.”

A series of peculiar little clicking sounds issued from the claydol, a sound Solonn had long known to be their form of laughter. <Well, I am certainly glad to learn that he is alive and well,> Oth said warmly. <I wonder…> they then added, <do you suppose I could accompany you? I am rather interested in meeting your family, and now that I have a chance to spend some time with you after so long, I am… not exactly eager to bid you farewell anytime soon…> There was something in their tone that suggested a bit of embarrassment on their part, as if they were worried they might be imposing themself on Solonn.

But Solonn had no problem whatsoever with letting Oth tag along. He was equally interested in prolonging their reunion, and he didn’t want to leave Oth behind with no other option in the cold caverns but to go back where they’d come from. “Sure, of course you may,” he said.

<Thank you,> Oth said gratefully.

“No problem,” Solonn responded as he set off once again, with the claydol following close behind. “Now, hopefully you won’t be too shocked when you see him…”

<Why would I be?> Oth asked.

“Well, you see…”
 
Chapter 24

Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
Location
*aurorus noise*
Partner
glalie
Chapter 24 – Impossible Tears


Side by side, Azvida and Jeneth entered the temple. They closed off the entrance behind them, then descended into the sacred chamber, moving silently through a small crowd as they sought a nice place to sit.

Those who were already gathered there barely noticed their arrival. People visited the temple as they pleased or needed; it was hard to find a time when there wasn’t someone coming or going through that entrance. And most of the glalie there were too engrossed in their meditations to notice much else anyway.

The couple soon found an empty spot near the front of the chamber and gladly sat down there. Before them, three tall, tapering ice spires rose from the floor in a triangular formation. Their purpose was to focus prayers unto the heavens and channel divine energy into the worshipers. A solid, triple-diamond pattern was etched into a flattened facet on the front of each of the spires.

Azvida and Jeneth looked at them for a moment, then exchanged optimistic smiles before closing their eyes, doing nothing more for a while other than dwelling on the sacredness of this place. They silently offered reverence and praise unto the gods, then sent their gratitude for their prior blessings and appealed to them for more, dearly hoping their prayers for another child would be answered at last.

At the opposite end of the temple, the barrier vanished and reappeared once again, this time admitting a somewhat larger group of new arrivals than usual. The people in the temple paid them no more mind than they’d paid the couple who’d come in just minutes ago. The newly arrived glalie moved into the crowd, one of them making it up front to the altar, taking his place next to Azvida and Jeneth. Soon, all of them were situated, melding seamlessly into the tranquility of the scene as if they’d always been there.

Then that tranquility met an abrupt end.

There was a sound like an enormous peal of thunder: the signature of several nhaza released in unison. The worshipers were snapped violently out of their reveries, and their cries of shock and terror joined the echoes of the blasts when they saw the insensible bodies on the floor. They realized just as quickly that their nightmare had only just begun.

The first thing Azvida saw as she cast a panicked glance about was Jeneth lying motionless by her side, seemingly unconscious. The next thing she saw, in nearly the same instant, was a gray-and-white blur smashing into him from out of nowhere. She reeled backward automatically with a wordless cry of surprise as the glalie hurtled past her, driving Jeneth along with them. There was a sickening crunch as they met the wall, and her eyes darted toward the sound.

Whoever had just attacked her mate was nowhere in sight, but there was Jeneth, propped against the wall at an awkward angle. Oblivious to the crushing blow he’d just been dealt, he wore a peaceful expression. It contrasted harshly with the rapidly spreading pool of nearly colorless, evanescing blood that surrounded him.

Azvida gave a strangled wail as she rushed toward him, desperate to find some sign of life within him. Before she could reach him, his attacker swung back around, turning on her this time. She caught sight of the charging glalie in the corner of her eye, raised a protect aura, and dodged out of the way a split-second before he could strike, veering wildly toward the center of the chamber—but not into safety.

In an instant, Azvida was surrounded by chaos. All around her, jaws snapped, horns slashed and stabbed, and bodies collided with brutal force. The sounds of shattering armor and attempted nhaza filled the air along with furious hisses and cries of fear and agony.

Azvida regained her bearings and looked back toward Jeneth, her heart catching sickeningly in her throat—she was sure he was gone now. He wasn’t alone, either; several others had been smashed against walls, gored, or both. A powerful wave of sorrow and confusion welled up within her, and she couldn’t help averting her eyes from the carnage. In all her time in Virc-Dho, she’d never seen such violence among her people, and she couldn’t even begin to imagine why it was happening now. All that she was sure of was that it shouldn’t be. This once sacred place had become a killing field, desecrated with the blood of innocents, and more were still in great danger, herself included.

She was struck the moment her shield fell; she shrieked in pain as something gouged a burning path across her back, smashing through the sparse armor there. A response came from some long-dormant corner of her memory: she abruptly turned toward her assailant in a violent, wrenching motion, her left horn raking across his eyes. He screamed, only to be silenced when Azvida rammed into him, knocking the breath out of him and shoving him away.

Her eyes swept the chamber, anticipating another attack at any moment, from any direction. In doing so, she saw just how one-sided the battle was. There were clear aggressors, glalie who attacked ruthlessly and relentlessly with great skill. Most of the rest, while earnestly fighting back the best they could, were just painfully outclassed by the other side. Others, having realized they were no real match for the enemy, didn’t fight at all; they just tried to keep their protect shields up and avoid the onslaught.

The fact of the matter was that most of them had nothing in the way of battle experience beyond friendly matches, and there was a significant difference between merely sparring and actually fighting for one’s life. Meanwhile Azvida knew the face of mortal combat all too well. She’d hoped she’d never have to fight that way again, but when their enemy desired nothing less than to slaughter them, she had little choice.

With no further hesitation, she charged into the fray. Wherever she saw someone being overpowered by one of the aggressors, she aided them against the enemy; wherever she saw someone cornered or otherwise helpless against an oncoming threat, she rushed in to intercept the attacker. Knowing that nhaza were unreliable in such a chaotic situation, especially against such skilled opponents, she instead relied solely on physical attacks, her skull bashing into the enemies like a battering ram, her horns seeking the vulnerable eyes and the gaps in the armor of her targets.

Her enemies left gashes and punctures all over her hide whenever her protect aura failed, but she paid no mind to her own pain. Instead she focused on restoring her armor wherever it took damage, glazing over her wounds with ice, and defending her fellow people as well as she could.

But the fact remained that the enemies were all just as skilled as she was, if not moreso. She couldn’t truly defend against them on her own; despite her best efforts, her people were still falling.

Still, she refused to just give up and let them be massacred. She hurtled toward an enemy glalie who was bearing down on a vulnerable, wounded person lying near the altar—only to pass right through the attacker. She cursed aloud—that was the most convincing double team illusion she’d ever seen.

She immediately sought its source, anticipating an ambush—but to her surprise, that ambush came from the “helpless” glalie she’d moved to save, who grinned wickedly as she instantly rose and headbutted Azvida. In nearly the same instant, the glalie responsible for the illusion struck Azvida from the other side. Azvida crashed painfully into one of the altar’s spires; she barely managed to get out of the way before a large chunk of it broke off and fell to the floor.

As she hurried away from the broken altar, shoving her way through the crowd, she saw that a couple of glalie had slipped away from the fight and made their way to the exit. She felt a small surge of hope at the sight, hope that those people might escape with their lives—and better still, they might bring back reinforcements.

But that hope was quickly dashed as moments went by with the barrier remaining stubbornly in place. Desperately, the glalie gathered there tried to simply bash through the wall of ice, but to no avail. As if it were alive, it automatically repaired any damage dealt to it.

“It won’t open!” one of the glalie at the exit shouted. “Why won’t it open?”

An answer came to Azvida right away, and her heart sank. The enemies were exercising control over the barrier. They now outnumbered the defenders, and so their power to keep it closed was too strong for the survivors to overcome, even as a whole.

If more glalie arrived at the other side of the barrier, they might be able to overpower the attackers and enter the temple. If the Security Guild’s lair weren’t located on the other side of the warren, such help would have surely come by now. They could still be summoned if anyone came close enough to the temple to hear the commotion inside, but as far as she could tell, no one had.

And then she got an idea. One of the skills the humans had taught her could draw that badly needed attention—the entire warren might notice it, in fact. It had seemed too impractical to use in combat, pushed to the back of her mind in favor of techniques with less risk of collateral damage. Its potential beyond simple offense hadn’t occurred to her; she inwardly cursed herself for not thinking of this course of action sooner.

There was no guarantee that it would work. Maybe no one would arrive in time; maybe not enough would. Maybe the wrong people would arrive first, though that might happen anyway. Perhaps, the terrible thought occurred to her, similar or even greater violence had erupted elsewhere in the warren, too. In that case, the aid needed in the temple might be wrapped up in trouble elsewhere. But Azvida had to give it a try. It might be the only hope left for those trapped with her—or, at least, for those who’d brought this misery upon them to get what they deserved for it.

With no further delay, she brought up a protect shield so that no one and nothing could disrupt what she was about to do—and just in time, as the two glalie who’d tricked her came back around for another strike then, accompanied by a third this time.

“Everyone!” she shouted as loudly as her partially-spent strength would allow, unfazed as each of the three assailants’ attacks hit her shield in unison. She knew her next actions could hurt the innocents just as badly as it could hurt the other side. Her people needed fair warning. “Protect or get as high off the ground as you can now!”

Deep blue light blossomed around nearly every living person in the temple, while others pushed their levitation to the limit, rising as high off of the floor as their heavy bodies could manage. The enemies naturally did likewise, and their attention was now directed squarely and entirely toward Azvida. They knew she was up to something and weren’t interested in letting her pull it off. In a single moment, the enemies amassed and moved toward her in unison.

But just before they could reach her, she surged up into the air, well above her normal hovering height. She came crashing back down just as quickly and released a powerful discharge of ground-type energy into the floor beneath her, sending shockwaves out from the impact site. The ice glazing the walls, floor, and ceiling filled with fissures and then exploded in a burst of frozen shrapnel; what remained of the altar came crashing down; and the barrier shattered, only to return in virtually the same instant. Her shield fell a split-second after the earthquake, and as the attackers fell upon her, she could only hope her call for help would be answered in time.

* * *​

Deep, rattling echoes filled the surrounding chamber: the sonic companion to Oth’s account of their ultra rank contest experience. Grosh occasionally interrupted with questions or comments, but Solonn, having heard the story several times before, kept contentedly silent as he sat there with his friend and his father.

As the claydol was nearing the end, something strange distracted Solonn: a quick and rather small tremor that rippled through the stone floor beneath him. He wondered if it might have been a small earthquake, something he’d never experienced before.

“Did anyone else feel that?” he asked, turning his gaze toward the others. When it fell upon Grosh, Solonn found the steelix wearing a distinctly troubled expression, and his own changed to match it at once.

<I did not feel anything… What is the matter?> Oth asked as they noticed the others’ worried looks.

“There was an earthquake a moment ago,” Solonn answered, “albeit a small one.”

<Oh… Are earthquakes uncommon in this area?>

“As long as I’ve known this place, yes, they are.” Grosh said. There was tension in his tone and the set of his jaw. He looked down at Solonn. “I think that came from the warren—and I think it was your mother’s doing,” he told him quietly, at which his son’s eyes widened in surprise. “And I don’t imagine she’d have used that unless she was in major trouble.”

“Oh dear gods…” Solonn said almost breathlessly as he rose from the floor, instantly and immensely concerned for not only Azvida but Jeneth, as well—the latter was surely still with her. He heard an untranslated noise from the claydol to his right, a possible echo of their sentiments. A number of the dangerous scenarios that Azvida and Jeneth could be facing raced through his mind in rapid sequence, quickening his pulse and making fear settle heavily in the pit of his stomach.

“She’s a good fighter,” Grosh went on, “and I’m sure she can hold her own in a lot of situations, but if she’s found it necessary to resort to that…” He shook his head. “She might be overwhelmed,” he worried aloud, and his eyes darted fretfully toward the mouth of his cavern and the shaft leading up out of it. “We’ve got to try and reach her,” he decided firmly. “We don’t know what’s going on, how much time she has… I can’t stand the thought of not being there for her if she’s in need…”

“Oth can close most of the distance between here and the warren,” Solonn said, trying to think as fast as he could. “They can get us to the border-cavern at the very least—and if they can do what I think they can, they can get us where we probably need to go.” Some psychics, like Sei, could extract memories of destinations from others’ minds and thereby teleport to places they’d never personally been. But Oth wasn’t as powerful as Sei; there was a chance they couldn’t do such a thing.

Solonn hoped dearly that they could. Grosh was right—there was no telling how much time Azvida and Jeneth had. Every second counted, and being able to warp instantly to their aid could make all the difference in how they fared.

<I can,> Oth said, correctly interpreting Solonn’s statement. <If you will allow me to form a temporary link with your mind, I can take you to any place you can recall.>

Solonn was ordinarily somewhat averse to letting others into his mind, even friends. But such reservations couldn’t have been further from his mind at the present. “Please do,” he consented readily.

Oth brought themself directly before him. All but the foremost of their eyes closed as the claydol focused their power through it. There was no visible beam this time, but Solonn could still feel the distinct sensation of a foreign presence entering his mind.

At the same time, he felt an equally foreign mindscape open up on the outskirts of his perception—Oth was forming a two-way connection, a true link. Solonn hoped he wouldn’t accidentally pick up on any of the claydol’s thoughts, but those concerns kept to the back of his mind.

To his immense gratitude, Oth was finished in no time. <Just think of where you wish to go, and I will transport us there instantly,> Oth told him.

“There’s just one problem,” Grosh pointed out, his frown deepening further. “We don’t know where she is, exactly. We could lose precious time trying to find her.”

“I think I know where she is,” Solonn said. She and Jeneth were probably still at the temple… either that, or they were on their way home. He didn’t think they’d be en route to the snowgrounds just yet, let alone would they have arrived there—he hoped to all gods that they hadn’t, at least. The thought of any children—and especially Jen—being involved in whatever had befallen Azvida and Jeneth only worsened the chilling, sickening fear roiling inside him. “She’s probably at the temple with Jeneth, but if she’s not… well, I think I know where else they might be. We’re just going to have to move as quickly as possible,” Solonn said, trying with little success not to think about what might happen if they didn’t get to them in time. “If we don’t find them in the temple, we’ll move on immediately.”

The others gave quick nods of agreement, and with that, Solonn focused as sharply as he could on visualizing the temple, hoping the swarm of other thoughts and worries in his mind wouldn’t get in Oth’s way.

Luckily, Oth got the message with no trouble at all. <Draw as close to me as you can,> they advised Grosh. The steelix did so at once, coiling loosely around Solonn and Oth. A teleportation field promptly formed around the three, removing them from Grosh’s home.

In virtually the same instant, they rematerialized in the temple, and they gasped and cried out in shock at once. The battle within was still raging despite how many people had already fallen. It was a far more brutal scene than any of the three who’d just arrived had expected.

Their entrance didn’t go unnoticed; several pairs of eyes immediately shifted toward the sudden flash of golden light at the exit, and those eyes widened enormously at what they found there.

A fearful voice cut through the din. “The steel beast is here!” the voice shouted, announcing the arrival of the steelix who’d just appeared on the scene. “Retreat, retreat!”

At his call, a number of the glalie broke away from the fight and surged toward the exit as one, many of them summoning shields around themselves as they did so. The barrier promptly vanished for the small swarm of glalie as they fled the temple as fast as they could. The three newly arrived pokémon they rushed past were still in too much shock at what they’d found to realize why they should intercept them.

Following the departure of those glalie, the scene instantly changed. The fighting had ceased; most of those who were left in the temple were lying on the floor, unconscious or worse, while the few who remained awake hovered warily in place, their darting, fearful glances telling that they didn’t dare believe that the violence had subsided.

Solonn looked upon the scene laid out before him, almost paralyzed with horror and disbelief—he’d never beheld such carnage in his life. With an immense effort, he forced himself forward, shuddering hard as he and the others proceeded into the main chamber of the ruined temple, trying not to faint. A thin, pale, silvery mist hung low in the air, vapors from the blood of the fallen; his stomach lurched hard at the thought that he was actually breathing it.

He spotted a small cluster of relatively unharmed-looking glalie huddling together and moving away from him and the strange, foreign creatures who accompanied him. They froze in place when they realized that the three had spotted them. Solonn noticed at once that Azvida and Jeneth weren’t among them, as did the others; Grosh broke away and immediately began searching the chamber on his own, a couple of his spiked segments rotating fretfully all the while.

Solonn stopped advancing, hoping to seem less threatening to the fearful survivors. But he kept his gaze locked onto them, the troubled question plain in his eyes even before he spoke it aloud.

“Where are they?” he asked, his throat dry and constricted with fear. “Where are Azvida Zgil-Al and Jeneth Avasi-Ra; do you know?” He could only hope one of them knew who they were and could recognize them.

One of the survivors nodded almost imperceptibly. Her eyes shifted to her right—just as a bloodcurdling howl sounded from that very direction.

Solonn’s heart seized at the sound, and he rushed toward it right away—only to be caught short by familiar, yellow light. When it vanished, he and Oth were both directly beside Grosh. And there before them…

Azvida lay face-up, trembling uncontrollably and staring sightlessly into space through fluttering, ruined eyes. It was hard to tell just how badly she was suffering, but the fact that she was hurting was all too clear. Her breathing was ragged, horribly labored. Her armor was deformed, hastily shifted to patch over her many wounds. She must have lost the strength to do so at some point; some of them were still exposed, still bleeding into the already considerable pool that surrounded her. Solonn mindfully took over for her, a wordless, strangled sound of horror escaping him as he glazed over the open wounds as quickly as he could.

“Mother…” he all but whispered, his voice catching in his throat. “Dear gods, what… what have they done to you?”

Azvida stirred slightly where she lay, trying but failing to turn toward his voice. “…Solonn?” she managed in a brittle, almost breathless tone, all too clearly struggling to speak. “Are you… here?”

“Yes,” he answered. “I’m here… and so is Father.”

Something of a sad, wistful gratitude managed to show through Azvida’s marred features at that. “Thank you…” She gave a frail, shuddering sigh. “Wish I… could see you…”

The failing light in her eyes flickered erratically as she unknowingly met her son’s gaze. A wrenching pang seized his heart at the almost colorless rivulets of blood that flowed from the wounds closest to her eyes… it looked to as though she were crying, shedding impossible tears.

“Who did this to you?” Grosh asked, anguish and fury plain in his voice. “I won’t let them get away with it, I swear…”

“Don’t know,” Azvida responded very weakly. “There were… so many…”

“Mother… where is Jeneth?” Solonn asked hoarsely. “Is he… ?” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

Azvida couldn’t bring herself to answer, at least not in words. Her face contorted, and a frail sob escaped her.

Solonn’s heart sank even further, and he drew in his next breath as a shuddering, pained hiss. “Oh… oh gods…” he said near-voicelessly, and started to tremble. The ice that had fallen from the walls and ceiling surged back up to surround the four of them, jagged projections bursting out of it and starting to twist and writhe at Solonn’s unconscious command. It was hard enough to accept that Jeneth was gone. The anguish on his mother’s face only made it hurt all the more.

He didn’t want that bereavement to be one of the last things she ever knew—and he had no intentions of letting it. Her potential salvation hovered right at his side.

“Oth,” Solonn spoke up. The claydol made a faint, acknowledging noise. “I know a place where they might be able to save her,” Solonn told them, and he conjured up thoughts and images of the Haven. He could only hope someone still worked there, that the local pokémon hadn’t decided to abandon the old Convergence lifestyle after the Extinction.

Seconds passed, but the scenery didn’t change. Solonn feared that Oth might have failed to receive the images, and so he tried to focus harder on the Haven. It was far easier said than done with such a terrible scene surrounding him, with one loved one already lost and another bleeding before him.

He noticed that Oth had circled around Azvida to hover at her opposite side, and at that very instant, he saw a pale red beam project silently from the claydol’s foremost eye and strike his mother, seemingly to no effect.

“What are you doing?” he demanded urgently. “We have to get her to the hospital right away!”

Oth didn’t answer. They wordlessly widened their red beam and swept it over the wounded glalie before them, passing it over her twice. The beam then vanished, and Oth gave a long, low, almost toneless rattling, a sigh without breath.

<I am so sorry,> the claydol said somberly.

“What is it?” Solonn asked, dreading the answer.

There was the slightest pause as Oth struggled to answer. <I am afraid that in her current state, she would not survive rematerialization,> they said regretfully. <She cannot be teleported.> Their head lowered, their many eyes closing in earnest guilt. <I am so sorry…> they said again.

None of the three gathered at Azvida’s side wanted to believe what was happening, but with that, the finality of the matter was undeniable no matter how dearly and desperately they wished otherwise. Solonn looked upon his mother with a profound apology in his eyes, hating the hopelessness of the situation.

“I just wish I could do something about this,” he lamented quietly, “anything at all…”

Azvida drew the deepest breath she could manage, letting it out on a soft, hoarse note. Her jaws parted and she tried to speak, but a powerful tremor wracked her broken body, stealing her breath before she could give it words. When it subsided, the lines of her face tightened briefly and a small, pained sound escaped her, almost a whimper.

“Just…” she finally resumed with immense difficulty, her words more exhaled than truly spoken. “Please… just stay safe.”

“We will,” Solonn assured her, swallowing against a fresh surge of anguish. “We promise we will. Don’t worry.”

Her only acknowledgment was the slightest nod and something whispered that came short of words. She gave another great shudder, one that seemed unwilling to relent… but then she finally fell still. The light in her eyes faded out, and her life went with it.

For one last, precious ghost of a moment, she still lived in the minds of her observers. Then the truth fell upon them all, and deep inside, Solonn felt something seem to tear itself wide open. The bereavement already aching badly within him swelled until it finally tore its way out through his throat in a long, raw, piercing cry, joining the anguished roaring and somber lowing of those at his sides. The surrounding ice shattered, crumbling from the walls and ceiling in tiny pieces that fell like frozen rain.

Moments passed, unmarked and uncounted. Solonn shook as he huddled against the grieving steelix, his eyes closed, ragged breaths hissing through his teeth. He was trying, however unsuccessfully, to comfort both his father and himself. He felt something slightly rough-textured alight upon his back and jolted slightly at the contact, but then realized it was only Oth’s hand. Opening his eyes, he turned and saw that they’d laid their other hand upon Grosh, embracing both him and Solonn insofar as they could.

<I should inspect the others who have fallen,> the claydol finally spoke up, their mindvoice subdued. <Some of them may require medical attention… if I can transport them, I will do so.>

Solonn only nodded in agreement, unable to reach words. As the rest of the temple slowly returned to his senses, he could hear the lamentations of other glalie, survivors facing loss or impending loss of their own. He hoped dearly that as few of them as possible would experience what he’d just gone through.

Oth parted from the group and started moving toward one of the other fallen glalie, but then stopped. <Someone is here…>

There was a very loud, resounding crack. Without even so much as a chance to wonder what could have possibly hit them, the claydol fell to the floor—and in the same instant, Grosh did likewise, his head dropping heavily to the ground and very nearly landing on his son.

Solonn cried out in shock and immediately looked to his father and his friend in turn, staring agape in disbelief at their sudden fall, fearing for their lives. Thankfully, Grosh was still alive; Solonn could see his breaths making glowing clouds of warmth in the surrounding cold. Meanwhile Oth wasn’t breathing… but then again, Solonn remembered, they never did. Their rather low but nonetheless present body heat confirmed that they’d survived. The nhaza that had struck them had been restrained, diluted into sheer cold attacks.

The moment he was sure they were both still alive, Solonn sought whomever had struck them down, suddenly awash in adrenaline and ready to fight back in case the attack on the temple had resumed. He swiftly found nine glalie at the entrance, newly arrived and trying but failing to conceal their horror at the scene before them.

“Please remain calm,” one of them addressed the survivors, trying to sound comforting and commanding despite the tremor she couldn’t quite keep out of her voice. “No further harm will come to you. You’ll all need to come with us before the Council of Authority for questioning and further aid and instructions.”

Any retaliation Solonn might have had in store for the new arrivals faltered when he realized what was going on: they were of the Security Guild, and they’d undoubtedly come to investigate the commotion here. With horror, he also realized why they’d knocked Grosh and Oth out, what they must have thought upon finding such strange creatures at a scene of carnage and destruction…

“No, you’ve got it all wrong!” he croaked out. “These two had nothing to do with this!”

The guild members regarded him with doubt, and then most of them looked to the one who’d spoken before. “Secure them and get ready to move them out,” their spokeswoman and apparent leader instructed her squad, nodding toward the six glalie gathered at her right. They nodded back in acknowledgment and moved in silent unison toward where Grosh and Oth lay.

“Leave them alone!” Solonn shouted, intercepting the approaching guild members. “What in the gods’ names is wrong with you? I told you, they didn’t do this!”

The approaching glalie didn’t respond, gliding around him and splitting into two groups to surround Grosh and Oth separately. Unable to watch idly as they set upon his father and friend, Solonn brought a piercing, white blaze to his eyes. Hissing furiously, he set off a nhaza in their midst, a warning shot.

No sooner had it gone off than another one just like it followed—but it wasn’t his doing. He shouted in surprise as it went off so close to him that he could feel the shockwave of its birth explode against his back. He turned in an instant to face its source and saw the guild leader there, holding a hard stare upon him.

“Sir, I’m going to ask you not to interfere, and I’m not going to ask you again,” she warned Solonn tensely, her tone telling that she wasn’t bluffing. “You’ll have a chance to speak with the council later, and they can determine the validity of your claims, but first we’re required to subdue all potential threats. If you wish to present yourself as a potential threat, then I’m afraid we will have to respond accordingly.”

Solonn only stared at her in silent, pained outrage for a moment, unable to believe his ears. Whatever was or wasn’t required of the guild personnel, he was sure they held a particular mistrust for unfamiliar species. That in turn surely made it all the easier and more convenient for them to believe that Grosh and Oth had been responsible for this tragedy.

With a tremendous effort, Solonn managed to suppress an urge to knock out the leader in one blast, just aware enough that the rest of her squad would just give him the same treatment if he tried. “Listen,” he pleaded with her. “There are people here who might need help, and you just attacked the only person who can give it to them. You’ve got to give them a chance!”

The guild leader held his gaze, her brow knitting, a frown he couldn’t quite interpret forming on her face. She remained silent for a moment’s deliberation. “I’m sorry,” she finally said, “but letting them awaken isn’t a risk we can take right now.”

“There’s no risk! They didn’t do this!” Solonn cast a hopeful, pleading glance around him at the survivors of the attack, who’d witnessed what had truly happened and could back up his claims… and the conflict on their faces couldn’t have been plainer. Come on, he urged them, tell them!

For a fleeting moment, a couple of them considered coming forward, their brows drawn together as they debated their next actions… but to Solonn’s dismay, none of them spoke up.

“Come on,” the guild leader said quietly. “The council needs to speak with you.”

The survivors slowly made for the exit, some moving more hesitantly than others and throwing glances back at people left lying behind, and then waited there to be led away. With bitter disappointment, feeling defeated for the time being and despising that notion very deeply, Solonn turned away from them to give the guild leader a smoldering, reproachful glare. His attention then shifted toward the rest of the squad as they proceeded to apprehend Grosh and Oth. He wanted to make damn sure they did no further harm to either of them.

They pushed Oth up onto the head of one of the guild members; she held the claydol there between her horns. Another of them lifted Oth’s detached hands up on a pillar of ice, then deposited them on top of his head; he’d correctly guessed that the hands could function while detached and incorrectly assumed that they could do so while Oth was unconscious.

The other four positioned themselves around Grosh, two to each side of his neck, behind his massive head. The six guild members then secured the prisoners (and detached parts thereof) to their bodies with ice, restored the shattered floor beneath them into a smooth surface, and began moving toward the exit. Solonn worked very mindfully to protect Oth and Grosh from the coldness of their captors’ bodies as the guild members carried them along.

“All right then,” their leader said, turning toward the survivors at the exit. “Everyone line up behind me and follow me out in an orderly fashion.”

The survivors did as they were told, and grudgingly, miserably, Solonn did likewise. As he followed them into the corridor beyond, he cast one last look back at the ruined temple, the place where Azvida, Jeneth, and gods only knew how many others had lost their lives. He stared off in that direction until the guild members carrying Grosh and Oth reached the exit, blocking his view behind and forcing him to move on. His heart ached at the thought that innocent people were being punished for those deaths—neither Jeneth nor Azvida would have wanted this, and he doubted the other victims would have wanted the blame to fall upon the wrong people, either.

The only hope left for things to be set right, or as right as they could be after something so terrible had happened, was if the council could be convinced that Grosh and Oth were innocent. Silently, Solonn prayed for the truth to prevail.
 
Chapter 25

Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
Location
*aurorus noise*
Partner
glalie
Chapter 25 – Speak No Evil


The council chamber was vast. The floor was raised slightly in a strip against the far wall, forming a platform just large enough to accommodate the members of the council. The council, however, was not there. The witnesses brought from the temple, a very small, shaken crowd of fearful, mournful faces, had been waiting for them for countless minutes. The only new arrivals since Solonn had entered the chamber were a couple of glalie who’d still been unconscious when the rest of the squad had left the temple, accompanied by the guild members who’d stayed behind with them.

Meanwhile some part of Solonn still hadn’t returned, lingering in that temple with the rising vapors and the ruined lives. With them. Another part was busy wondering where the guild had taken Grosh and Oth. He’d asked when the guild had split up, with the glalie carrying the prisoners continuing onward past the council chamber. All he’d gotten for an answer was “somewhere secure”, leaving him to fret helplessly for them and hope there was at least someone there guarding them and keeping them from freezing.

The rest of his thoughts and worries went toward his half-brother, still back at the snowgrounds and probably wondering when his parents would show up—not knowing that they never would. Oh gods… Solonn was sure that he’d be the one who’d have to tell Jen what had happened. He could already picture how the snorunt would react, and the image worsened the cold, sick feeling inside him.

So did the fact that the snowgrounds might have suffered an attack, as well—that he might not have to break the news to Jen after all, and for the most terrible reason.

He had to get out of there. He had to know how his loved ones were doing. He looked to the platform, wishing the council would show up and start this meeting so it could end.

Several more minutes passed before they finally made their appearance. The wall on the right side of the platform opened, and out came the Security Guild leader. She descended from the platform and took her position in front of it, off to the side, facing the small crowd.

“The honorable Council of Authority now arrives,” she announced. “Please bow as they make their entrance.” In less-than-perfect unison, the gathered witnesses lowered their faces. A moment later, “Now please give your attention to the lahain Hagen Ar-Vhannen,” she instructed them.

At the cue, Solonn lifted his gaze. The platform before him was now occupied by the most powerful figures in Virc society. The Council of Authority numbered five: two men and three women. Their pale eyes showed considerable age, as well as confusion, sorrow, unease, and fear. Whether or not the minds behind those eyes had been immovably convinced that Grosh and Oth were guilty remained unclear.

The council member in the middle of the row ascended and moved forward slightly before sitting down again. His eyes swept the crowd slowly, and he inhaled deeply before speaking.

“These are most regrettable circumstances that bring us together today,” the lahain began heavily. “This day has destroyed the sanctity of our holy temple and robbed good, honest Virc of their lives. The temple is forever desecrated by the atrocities committed there, and nothing can bring back those who were lost. All we can do is to ensure that those responsible are given their due punishment to protect our people from any such threat in the future.

“Our Security Guild has brought to us two… individuals… whom they found at the scene and whom they suspect to be responsible for the murders in the temple. However… they also tell us that one among you has proclaimed these two to be innocent.” Here Hagen allowed a pointed gaze to fall upon a face in the crowd that was considerably larger than those around it, and he held it there. “What can you offer us to support your claim?”

Solonn swallowed hard, sending out yet another quick, silent prayer for the council to see the truth in his words. Some tiny voice inside warned of the danger in what he was about to say, but he didn’t care. His loved ones were more than worth the risk.

“I know them, Lahain,” he said. His voice was hoarse and pained. “Neither of them would ever do such horrible things. And besides which, they weren’t even there when it all started. They were with me. We noticed the tremor and went to the temple right away… and when we entered, the fighting stopped.

“We were there to help,” he emphasized. “And their help may still be needed. Please, Lahain… you have to let them go. Some of the people back in the temple might be badly hurt; they’ll need to go somewhere far away for the help they need, and you’re imprisoning the only one who can get them there fast enough.”

Hagen sighed. “I’m afraid that all those left in the temple are beyond salvation,” he said quietly. “The Security Guild reported that all those whom they were unable to wake had perished.” At these words, the somber air that hung over the space grew even heavier, drawing mournful sounds from many of those gathered in the chamber. Sickened dismay dampened Solonn’s already dim eyelight further; had Oth been allowed to attend to those last victims, at least some of them might have had a chance.

“As for your claims regarding the two prisoners,” Hagen continued, “can anyone else here back up your testimony?” He lifted his gaze from Solonn and let it encompass the entire crowd. “Is there anyone else among you who claims those two did no harm to the temple and those therein?” he asked them.

There was a moment of silence that felt terribly long. Solonn expected a repeat of the situation in the temple, with no one would speaking up to support him.

But then, to his grateful surprise, “Yes, Lahain,” said one of the other witnesses. “He’s right. We’d already been fighting for a while before they came. They appeared in the temple—just appeared—and when the other side saw them, they bolted.”

“Other side…” Hagen mused aloud. He cast perplexed glances at the other council members, but they didn’t seem to know what to make of the matter, either. “Well then, if it wasn’t the two strange creatures who attacked the temple, then who was it?” he asked.

“As far as I could tell, it was just some other glalie,” Solonn answered.

The reaction to that statement wasn’t what Solonn had expected: a couple of the council members gave scandalized gasps, and the lahain himself looked greatly appalled.

“How could you even suggest such a thing?” Hagen hissed, the light in his eyes blazing. “Virc must not and do not take the lives of other Virc!”

“…It’s true,” another of the survivors dared to insist despite the vehemence of Hagen’s objection. “They just came in, and they hit us with no warning… just like that, everything went to hell.” He shook his head. “There were… no idea how many. Don’t know who they were, either. But they were definitely glalie.”

“Now do you see?” Solonn asked of the council; it came out sounding more like a challenge than he’d quite intended. “The ones you’ve imprisoned are not to blame. You’ve got to let them go!”

The lahain only glared at Solonn and the other witnesses. There was clearly something at work behind those ancient eyes, perhaps considering the witnesses’ claims or perhaps just seething in offense at the notion of Virc showing the same cruelty and disregard for life that members of any other society could. Solonn strongly suspected the latter.

Hagen drew a deep breath with a distinctly disapproving, hissing edge that he either failed or didn’t bother to suppress, and he began to speak. But before he could say more than a single syllable, the entrance to the council chamber opened, and an unfamiliar face peeked in tentatively, clearly aware that he was interrupting something but just as plainly urgent to do what he’d come to do.

“Ms. Skei-Vi!” he hissed, sounding very distressed. He made something of a beckoning motion, jerking his head toward the corridor outside.

The guild leader cast a questioning, troubled glance at the glalie at the entrance, then excused herself and went to join him. The portal sealed, and Solonn could hear them speaking for a short time before their voices drifted out of earshot. Everyone in the chamber wondered what in the world was going on, but before they had long to ponder it, the leader returned, alone. They noticed her grave expression at once, and the crowd watched her attentively as she returned to her place in front of the platform, wondering and fearing what she’d just been told.

“What is it?” Hagen asked her. He no longer sounded angry in the least; he only sounded concerned.

“I’m afraid I’ve just received terrible news,” the guild leader announced slowly, somberly. “A member of my guild has just come from the snowgrounds… all the children who were there have gone missing.”

Gasps and cries of shock and alarm filled the air, and Solonn’s heart froze. “Jen…” His voice cracked as his throat went dry. “Dear gods, my brother was in there!”

“And my children!” another voice in the crowd cried.

“Please, you’ve got to find them!” a third begged the guild leader.

“Members of my squad have already begun searching,” Ms. Skei-Vi tried to assure her, but the guild leader’s words failed to calm her or anyone else in the room.

“This day has grown darker still…” the lahain remarked quietly. “Ms. Skei-Vi, do you have any clue at all as to where these children might be or who might have taken them?” he asked.

“Presently, no,” the guild leader said regretfully. “They’ve vanished without a trace. There’s nothing left to even suggest what has become of them.”

“Hmm…” was the lahain’s sole response at first. He stared pensively at a spot on the floor for a moment. “I think I’ll hazard a guess as to who might be responsible,” he then said, at which every eye in the chamber met his gaze. “I believe this crime may well have been the work of the same ones responsible for the atrocities in the temple—the very ones being held in our cells at this very moment.”

Solonn had expected to hear something along those lines, but the fact that he’d seen it coming did nothing to dampen his reaction. “How can you make such a claim?” he demanded, his eyes burning bright once more. “And how could they have committed two crimes at the same time?” he added as the thought occurred to him.

“No one said those crimes were committed at the same time,” Hagen pointed out. “The children may well have been taken and left somewhere before the attack on the temple.”

“Maybe so,” Solonn responded, conceding the point no further than that. “But still, you can’t just accuse them without anything to base it on! There’s nothing to prove that they did this!”

“I see no proof that they didn’t do it,” Hagen countered.

“Oh, so I suppose the word of these witnesses means nothing to you, then?” Solonn said acidly.

“Mere words can’t be accepted as irrefutable evidence,” the lahain said. “Anyone can say anything, after all.”

Lahain…” one of the other council members spoke up tentatively. It was the first time since the meeting had begun that any of them other than Hagen had spoken. “Surely the fact that so many of them report being attacked by other glalie has to count for something, doesn’t it?” she asked.

“If my suspicions are correct, then no, it very well may not,” Hagen said.

“And just what are those suspicions, exactly?” Solonn demanded.

“I believe that one of the prisoners, the many-eyed one, is a psychic,” was the lahain’s reply.

This brought a fresh surge of astonished responses from the crowd. “How do you know?” one among them asked. Solonn leveled a demanding gaze at Hagen with the same question and the worry that came along with it tightening his brow—how had the lahain correctly guessed that Oth was a psychic?

“Two among you have each offered a very significant detail where that’s concerned,” Hagen said. “The strange ones were described as simply ‘appearing’… and you,” he said, nodding toward Solonn, “claimed that one of them could quickly and easily transport people outside of our territory, did you not?”

Solonn could only stare wide-eyed at Hagen, horrorstruck by what he was hearing. It felt as though his blood had just frozen in his veins—he’d been so desperate to save his friend and his father, but now it seemed that he may have sealed their doom.

“The ability to disappear and reappear elsewhere belongs to the psychic element,” the lahain went on. “The use of that ability could explain how the children could have vanished so easily and completely. Furthermore… it bears mentioning that this wouldn’t be the first time someone among our people’s youth has experienced apparent abduction by a psychic-type… now would it, Mr. Zgil-Al?”

Solonn might have otherwise been surprised or startled to learn that Hagen knew his name, but all that truly got through to him was what Hagen was implying about Oth. “Don’t you even suggest that they had anything to do with that!” he hissed, thoroughly appalled.

“As I recall, no one ever determined who took you that day. I also recall that you told the Security Guild leader of that time that you had no memory of your abduction or anything that took place up to your return,” Hagen reminded him. “For all you know, that creature may very well have been your abductor.”

“‘Creature’…” Solonn spat distastefully, finding more to dislike in Hagen’s words with every moment. “That person is my friend, Lahain. They’re one of the kindest, most gentle-natured people anyone could ever hope to meet—they’d never do anything at all like what you’re accusing them of!”

The look Hagen gave him in response to that was sad—pitying, even. “Mr. Zgil-Al, I fear that you may be a victim of psychic deception. Just as the rest of you who’ve been brought here may have been tricked into believing you were under attack by glalie rather than by the strange ones, you may have been made to see the psychic in a much more flattering light.”

No,” Solonn said firmly, now positively shaking with astonishment at what he was hearing. “You’re wrong, Lahain. And everyone here knows it. Tell him!” he shouted as he turned to face the crowd.

But to his dismay, the faces around him spoke of no desire to do any such thing. In fact, it looked like they might have been seriously considering Hagen’s words.

He turned back toward the council. “Well, what about the prisoners’ rights?” he said. “Aren’t you at least going to give them a chance to defend themselves before you just decide they’re guilty?”

“And just how do you suppose we go about that?” Hagen asked. “If they’re allowed to wake, what’s to stop the psychic from simply disappearing and bringing the steel creature along with them, freeing them to threaten us again in future? It’s a risk I cannot and will not accept.”

“They wouldn’t do that,” Solonn growled. “They were there at the temple today out of concern and love, Lahain. They’re good, decent people, and yet here you are talking about them as if they’re just a couple of heartless monsters!”

“You can say whatever you want about them, but the nature of the day’s events seems all too clear now,” the lahain said resolutely. “It just makes far more sense that the terrible deeds done today could and would be done by such creatures rather than by Virc glalie. Why, anyway, would Virc ever kill their own kind?”

“Maybe they weren’t Virc,” suggested another of the council members, the very same one who’d spoken up before.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Zdir,” Hagen said. “You know just as well as I do that there are no other nations of our kind anywhere near here.”

“I was referring to exiles, Lahain,” Zdir elaborated. “Exiles who perhaps desired to get back at their fellow countrymen for their punishment.”

There was a strange sort of flickering in Hagen’s eyes as if Zdir had struck a particular chord with him. It was gone nearly as soon as it had come, however; his expression now solely and strongly suggested that she’d crossed some line. The faces of the other three council members underscored her apparent mistake further; they looked deeply worried for her.

“I think it’s time we brought this matter to a conclusion,” Hagen said coldly. “The council and I will go and discuss the day’s events and what we’ve learned regarding them among ourselves, and we will return with our final decision.”

There wasn’t a second’s delay between his words and the rest of the council’s response; the council member closest to the side exit opened it at once, and the five filed through it without another word. At the back of the line, Zdir stopped for the slightest moment, turning a supportive but not particularly optimistic gaze upon the crowd. Then she, too, was gone, and the portal sealed shut behind her.

Solonn’s eyes lingered upon the barrier. He could only imagine what sort of discussion was taking place wherever the council had gone, but he was certain that it was far from balanced. From what he’d seen, Hagen had virtually the entire council under his figurative thumb; most of them had come across as meek, obedient people who probably never spoke unless he specifically asked them to.

Zdir seemed to be an exception: someone clearly having a mind of her own, daring to voice her disagreement with the lahain. But she was only one questioning voice out of five. Chances were that wouldn’t be enough to sway or overpower Hagen, not if the rest of the council really did support their leader without question. She’d probably be made sorry in some way for her dissent, Solonn suspected darkly, and the rest of her peers would likely give her theories and opinions no further thought.

It was a bit longer than he’d quite expected before the council returned. Ms. Skei-Vi commanded the crowd to bow again as the council members took their places once more; Solonn refused, earning a disapproving frown from the guild leader.

Ignoring her, he looked toward Zdir, the only member of the council he still respected. Her face told all too plainly that she’d lost; she looked over the crowd with eyes filled with guilt and an unspoken apology.

“We of the council have arrived at our final judgment,” Hagen announced (a distinct bitterness flickered across Zdir’s face at the lahain’s use of the word “we”). “We’ve determined that our two prisoners, the steel creature and the psychic, were most certainly responsible for the destruction of our holy temple, the murders of eleven within it, and the abduction of an as yet unknown number of innocent children.”

It was exactly as Solonn had anticipated, no surprise whatsoever. Nonetheless, the judgment stabbed right into his heart, flooding him with outrage and despair. It was done. He’d failed to save them.

“The guilty parties will remain subdued in our custody until we’ve decided on a more permanent punishment,” Hagen went on. “The public will be informed of today’s tragedy but also assured that those responsible will pose no further threat. The Security Guild will do all in their power to find and bring back the children who’ve been taken from us… however, we must all prepare ourselves for whatever the gods may have chosen with regards to their fate,” he added in a somber tone.

“As for those of you who were caught in the center of all this wickedness… you have truly endured a uniquely tragic ordeal,” the lahain said to the crowd, and he sounded earnestly sympathetic. “It may take some time for you to fully realize and accept the truth about what you experienced at the temple and the ones responsible for it. What I now ask of you all is that until that time, you tell no one of the lies the wicked ones showed you.”

“You can’t possibly be serious!” Solonn responded at once, his eyes blazing. “This is absolutely unbelievable… First you convict innocent people based on nothing more than convenient coincidence and your own blatant bias, and now you honestly expect these people to not only deny what they know they saw but to lie about it from here on out?”

“What we tell you is no lie, Mr. Zgil-Al,” Hagen said firmly. “Your mind, as well as the minds of everyone present during the attack on the temple, has been wrapped up in the psychic’s trickery and abhorrent lies, and I’ll not have any of you spreading those horrid ideas among my people. Do you have any idea what such notions would do to them?” he hissed. “No Virc—or former Virc,” he added with a pointed glare toward Zdir, “has taken the life of their own kind for countless generations. The people couldn’t deal with such an unnatural notion!”

“Will they be able to deal with the real threat when it returns? Because it will; I guarantee it,” Solonn said. “You’ve laid this on the wrong people, Lahain, and more innocents will suffer because of it.”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Zgil-Al?” Hagen asked, his pale eyes narrowing.

“It’s a warning, Lahain,” Solonn said, unflinching. “And for our people’s sake, you’d best heed it. Reconsider your judgment. Let the prisoners go. And do not forbid us to tell the people the truth that could save their lives!”

The lahain inhaled deeply, letting it out on something between a hiss and a growl. He then rose from his seat and descended from the raised platform, gliding determinedly forward and coming to a stop right in front of Solonn in a clear move to show that he wasn’t swayed by his words or intimidated by his stature.

“You concern me, Mr. Zgil-Al,” he said, with a cold, hard stare up into the eyes of the larger man. “I fear that perhaps you can’t be trusted to listen to reason and maintain the peace. But I also pity you, and as such, I’m going to give you the chance to prove me wrong where that’s concerned. To err on the side of caution, however, you and the rest of those from the temple will be watched for a short while by a few of Ms. Skei-Vi’s people. If any of you cause any further disruption, they won’t hesitate to bring you down and put you in their cells,” he warned the crowd.

Hagen turned and resumed his place with the rest of the council. “Go,” he said to the crowd. “Remember your duties, all of you. Don’t pollute the public’s thoughts with the lies that have corrupted your perception. If I come to find out you’ve failed in this responsibility, you will join the prisoners in their fate.”

“Come on, then,” Ms. Skei-Vi said, then began shepherding the witnesses toward the exit.

Solonn lingered at the scene, maintaining his burning, condemning gaze upon Hagen for as long as he could. “You’re making a dire mistake, Lahain,” he said reproachfully. “The real threat is still out there, and anything that happens to our people from this day forward is on your head.”

With an insistent push and a softly reiterated warning, the guild leader finally managed to get Solonn out of the chamber and lead him away, leaving the council with his final, ominous words.

* * *​

“We gather here, in the sight of all gods, for the honor of those who have gone to join them on this day. Eleven souls, good Virc all, have been torn from our midst before their time in a most dreadful act of violence.”

The voice belonged to the leader of the Soul Guild, her words echoing throughout the surrounding space. Assembled there with her within an emormous, low-ceilinged cavern were dozens of glalie: survivors of the attack, friends and family of the victims, the other members of the Soul Guild, and several from the Security Guild.

They all formed a ring around a collection of eleven short ice spires that were arranged in a spiraling pattern in the center of the chamber. Within each of those spires, one of the people who had perished in the temple was encased.

“To those who lie before us: rest well. Though you have departed this life through fear and agony, you will now know only peace forevermore. Though you have fallen by the power of wickedness, take comfort in the knowledge that no wickedness can follow where you’ve gone.”

With a very heavy heart, Solonn gazed upon the spires. They were a nice, lovely tribute to the fallen, but soon he couldn’t bear to look at them any longer. He was overcome by thoughts of what they represented, as well as the full impact of the day’s events. Eleven lives, forever lost. Two innocent souls, unjustly paying for someone else’s crimes. Children, gods only knew how many, taken from their homes into unknown peril. Part of his family was now gone, while the rest of it, as well as all of Virc-Dho, now faced an uncertain future.

“We of the living world now relinquish custody of your spirits to your new keepers, but we will never let go of our memories of you. One day, we may meet again. Until then… farewell.”

With that, the Soul Guild leader began singing a wordless melody. The voices of her fellow Soul Guild members rose to join her. As the Soul Guild sang, the eleven spires began to sink slowly, descending on a circular platform into a very deep hole in the floor. Their peaks disappeared into it, and ice formed to cover the grave.

Neither Solonn nor anyone else gathered within that cavern could shed a single tear. But inside, they were all crying their hearts out, their grief manifesting here and there in frail sobs.

Their sorrow was earnest, but the fact remained that most of them didn’t know the truth about the tragedies they mourned. Most of them only knew what the authorities had told them, believing that the threat was out of the picture when, in reality, it wasn’t.

Solonn couldn’t vouch for anyone else among that crowd, but he knew one thing for certain: he couldn’t stand to remain silent. In that moment, he couldn’t care about the lahain’s threats and warnings, couldn’t care what speaking out might cost him. It was far more important that the people be armed with the truth. If they weren’t, chances were that these caverns would be hearing the Soul Guild’s song many times in the days to come.
 
Last edited:
Chapter 26

Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
Location
*aurorus noise*
Partner
glalie
Chapter 26 – Mordial


“Just as they have moved on beyond our world, so must we move on within it. Now go, and may the gods give you strength.”

At the Soul Guild leader’s dismissal, the crowd gathered in the burial chamber stirred and began to disperse. Some of them were more reluctant than others to make that final parting from their loved ones.

Solonn was one of those who lingered, staying seated on the stone floor and holding the now featureless space in the center of the room in a sorrowful gaze. Mere minutes ago, they had been there, lifeless and encased in ice like all the others who’d died in the temple with them. Now that they were sealed away beneath the floor, their absence weighed on him more than ever. Once he left this chamber, he’d be leaving them behind for the rest of his life.

He wasn’t left alone much longer. A prod at his side interrupted his thoughts, and he rose and turned to see who was responsible. There, he found one of the Security Guild members. She was looking up at him with an unspoken question—no, a command—in her eyes.

“I’ve been sent by my guild to escort you,” she said, telling Solonn nothing he hadn’t already guessed. Hagen had told him he could expect such a thing. Still, Solonn frowned at her, wishing she weren’t there—and not only for his own sake. “You have better things to do right now,” he told her quietly, “and you know it.”

“I’m afraid that’s not for you to decide,” the guild member responded. She circled around and took up a position right behind him—or tried to. He turned to face her again the moment she got back there. “Get moving, please,” she said. “I don’t know where you live. You’ll have to lead.”

Solonn gave her an odd look. “Who said I was going home?”

“Well, it’s not as though you have anything else to do, now is it?”

He did, but he most certainly couldn’t tell her as much. Letting on that he still wanted to try and warn people of the threat they still faced would just get him knocked out and thrown in a cell. And no one would hear his warnings if he got himself shut away.

Meanwhile, Solonn didn’t particularly like the thought of leading someone who didn’t trust him (or at least answered to someone who didn’t) back home. Very briefly, he considered trying to pick Zilag out of the crowd and go with him instead. He hadn’t even been able to spot Zilag among the mourners, but Solonn was sure he was present. But associating himself with Zilag in front of the authorities quickly registered as a bad idea. He didn’t want Zilag and his family to get wrapped up in any trouble that the Security Guild might give him.

But even if he avoided Zilag, Zilag was unlikely to avoid him—sooner or later, especially in the wake of what had happened, he’d probably pay Solonn a visit. And either that guild member or another would probably still be hanging around.

Resigned to that notion, he sighed and nodded to the guild member, then turned his back on her and began drifting toward the exit. After a short distance, he looked back to see if she was actually following him—she was. She was probably going to tail him literally anywhere and everywhere he went. Solonn gave one last glance toward Azvida and Jeneth’s resting place, sending them a silent farewell and apology for having to leave so soon, then exited the chamber.

The presence behind him did nothing to put his mind at ease. She represented the mistrust of a leader who, as far as Solonn could tell, cared more about being right than about the welfare of his own people. She was also a constant reminder that the nation’s defenders were being wasted on keeping people quiet rather than keeping them safe.

Maybe she trusted him better than the lahain had, but Solonn couldn’t help but suspect otherwise. The lahain had said that he’d give Solonn and the other witnesses a chance to live free (or as free as one could be under constant watch) provided they could stay quiet. But Solonn couldn’t put it past him to decide—or, the chilling thought occurred to him, to have already decided—to forcibly silence the witnesses after all.

Would she do it? he wondered of his escort. He couldn’t be sure what she’d do once he was alone with her, though he felt fairly certain that she wouldn’t just knock him out and drag him to prison before then. Some of the people sharing the tunnel with them hadn’t been there at the temple or the council chamber; they might not understand why people who were supposed to protect them had suddenly turned on them. That in turn might force the guild members to take them out as well, in order to nip any loaded questions in the bud. Surely the guild would prefer to avoid that scenario.

At least, Solonn dearly hoped they would.

Before long, the tunnel branched off in multiple directions. The crowd began to split up down the separate paths, and Solonn’s sense of safety in numbers began to fade. Already, he’d seen a couple of pairs split off and disappear down their chosen tunnels—did those pairs contain guild members? Were those guild members going to strike their charges down as soon as they got someplace private enough, and was the same true of the one who followed him?

It seemed there was truly nothing to be done about it other than continue on his way; another gentle but insistent prod of his escort’s horn emphasized that point. Knowing no other way home from here, Solonn could only retrace his figurative steps and go back the way he’d come, choosing the path that led past the council chamber.

Very few others went that way along with him, and in the distance between the council chamber and what had once been the temple, the number of people taking his route quickly dwindled until there was only his escort. There were no potential witnesses now. No one to see, hear, or ask questions if the glalie behind him made a move.

And he wouldn’t know she had until it was much too late. That was the thing about the mother element’s highest power: it was summoned with a mere thought, and it struck in a near instant. It gave its victims virtually no warning…

Virtually none.

There was a way to see it coming, Solonn remembered, astonished that he’d forgotten about that particular quirk of the technique. Then again, he hadn’t actually seen it since the last time Azvida had hunted alongside him, back before he’d worked up the nerve to hunt on his own. That had been years ago

Hoping his next actions wouldn’t trigger the exact thing he was trying to avoid, he stopped and turned to face his escort, earning an odd look from her.

“Sir, what do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

“I’m just going home, just as you suggested,” Solonn said as evenly as he could, and with that he resumed his drift toward home, but in reverse.

The guild member maintained that baffled look upon him, but otherwise gave no objections and simply kept following him. Whether she knew why he was moving backward or had simply decided he was strange and she shouldn’t try too hard to make sense of him, Solonn couldn’t guess. But he wasn’t really concerned about what was going on behind her eyes at this point. It was what happened in them that mattered at the moment.

If she tried to fire off a nhaza, he’d see it coming. The telltale white flash in its user’s eyes just before its release would give it away. He kept a protect on standby, hoping dearly that he could call it up in time if she attempted anything against him.

Solonn had gone between his home and the temple so many times that he knew the way by heart; he was confident that he could navigate it backward. He knew the number and positions of all the offshoots of the main path, and he silently counted them as he passed them by—those landmarks would tell him when and which way to turn. All the while, he watched his escort’s eyes; thus far, their light remained still and blue.

Their owner kept obligingly quiet as she followed him—to a point. Eventually, “Are we almost there?” she asked.

Solonn winced slightly, trying not to lose the number in his head. “Yes,” he responded quickly, thankful that was the answer, “it’s just a li—”

His voice was abruptly cut silent, lost in a loud crack. Despite his efforts, he’d failed to see it coming. Its source emerged from an offshoot not far behind where Solonn now lay unconscious.

The newly arrived guild member rose a bit higher off the ground to see past Solonn. His partner returned his gaze with an approving nod, silently commending his work. He responded likewise, then sank back down to his normal hovering height and moved closer to their subdued target. The two officers secured the insensible glalie to themselves with ice, then lifted him with an effort and carried him away.

* * *​

The next thing Solonn was aware of was pain: a somewhat dull throbbing sensation in the back of his head. Groaning, he stirred and lifted himself from the floor, slowly opening his eyes as he rose. What he saw left him all too certain about what had happened to him.

She’d got him. Somehow, in spite of his watchfulness, she’d managed to knock him out. Now he was imprisoned in one of their cells—and he wasn’t alone. There was Grosh, lying half-coiled at the opposite side of the room, still out cold. Solonn made to rush to his father’s side at once, but he was caught short by a familiar voice that spoke up in nearly the same instant.

“Good, you’re awake. You can help out with the psychic, then.”

Solonn turned toward its source. Seated nearby was none other than Zdir, the sole member of the council who’d seemed willing to hear the witnesses out, the only one who’d seemed willing to give Grosh and Oth a chance.

Solonn wondered what she was doing in their cell, though he certainly had his suspicions. But for now, he was much more concerned about Grosh and Oth—particularly the latter. He looked upon the claydol with concern tightening his brow; they were still utterly motionless, their hands still lying detached beside them, with nothing but the glow of their faint warmth to suggest that they were even alive.

That glow was notably dimmer than it should have been. The glalie who’d been guarding the cell had clearly done a sub-par job of keeping them warm—on purpose, Solonn suspected with disgust.

“Are they going to be all right?” he asked.

“Can’t say,” Zdir responded. “I don’t even know what this creature is, let alone how they work. But I suspect they’ll come to a lot faster if we can get them warmed up—and we need them to come to as soon as possible.” She dipped a horn toward the other side of the room, where another glalie lay in the corner opposite Grosh. “I doubt he’ll stay out much longer, and sooner or later his relief will show up.”

Zdir turned back to Oth, lowering her head slightly and staring intently at him. “Try to draw the cold from this creature as fast as you can, but don’t shut everything else out completely. We could have company at any moment now.”

That thought certainly wasn’t comforting. Nonetheless, Solonn tried to keep most of his mind on the task before him. It helped that it was his friend lying there in front of him. He most certainly didn’t want to let them down.

Simply protecting another creature from the cold was generally effortless for his kind, but what Oth needed at this point was to be rid of a chill that had already settled into them. Solonn thought back to times when he’d made ice melt or turn to vapor—opposite actions to freezing. That was the power he needed to use, or rather a much slower and gentler version thereof.

He went to work at once. At his side, Zdir was doing likewise, and as the two worked together, Oth’s temperature began to return to normal.

Moments passed, and Solonn began to wonder if maybe he and Zdir should stop—he didn’t want Oth to become overheated. Just as he was about to voice that concern, the claydol awoke, a few of their presently half-closed eyes simultaneously meeting the gaze of the two glalie at their side.

<What…> they began, their mindvoice and their true voice both sounding weak. <Solonn… what is happening?>

“We’ll have to explain later,” Zdir spoke up before Solonn could even begin to answer. “First, we need to get out of here, all of us. We need you to transport us.”

Oth wobbled in place for a moment, struggling to rise, their hands ascending to rejoin their body at different speeds. They tried again almost immediately and succeeded this time, but Solonn remained concerned for them. With a particular vulnerability to the ice element, recovering from an ice-type strike must surely be all the more difficult.

<Where?> Oth asked, still clearly fighting to keep their levitation stable even as they spoke.

“As far away from here as possible,” Zdir said.

Oth nodded slightly and began floating slowly and less than gracefully toward Grosh. Once the claydol was at his side, they proceeded to scan him, checking to make sure the steelix was in any fit state for teleportation.

“We need to go,” Zdir reminded them urgently.

Thankfully, Oth found out what they needed to know quickly. Satisfied that Grosh was more than well enough to survive the journey, <Come here,> they said to the two glalie, who went to join Oth and Grosh at once, Zdir lagging slightly behind.

“Oth… are you up to teleporting right now?” Solonn asked, worried not only for the claydol’s sake but their passengers’, as well. If Oth wasn’t quite strong enough to teleport them, and something went wrong… Solonn didn’t know what the results might be, but he strongly suspected they weren’t pretty.

<Yes,> Oth said. <Do not worry… What about him?> they then asked, gesturing toward the unconscious guard in the corner with one of their hands.

“Leave him. He’s not with us,” Zdir told them. “Now go!”

Without another moment’s delay, the claydol delivered the prisoners from their cell.

* * *​

The golden glow faded out, and its passengers found themselves in a place that contrasted greatly with their previous surroundings. The sky, though overcast, was backlit by late afternoon sunlight, and nearly everything below it was blanketed in green. Steady white noise filled the air: the rushing of a waterfall that lay on the opposite side of a deep, wide chasm and poured endlessly into a river below.

Zdir eyed the water with uncertainty. “Where are we now?”

<Mordial,> Oth answered. <Do not worry—we are nowhere near your territory.> They turned to face the forest behind them, moving a very short distance into it. <There is an herb that grows here that will help Grosh greatly,> they said, gesturing toward the trees. <I will try to find some of it for him as quickly as possible.>

“It would probably be found faster if more than one of us searches for it,” Solonn said. “What does it look like?”

There was a brief delay in Oth’s response, and then an image appeared in the two glalie’s minds simultaneously. The herb in question was a bright yellow-green, with long leaves that curled slightly at their tips. It seemed vaguely familiar to Solonn, but he couldn’t really recall anything about it for certain.

“All right,” he said, moving to Oth’s side. He turned back to look at Grosh, who was still lying there helplessly. Though searching for this herb would benefit the steelix, Solonn found himself reluctant to leave him there in that condition.

“I’ll stay with him,” Zdir spoke up, having read Solonn’s hesitance correctly. “And don’t try too hard to rush back; this herb you speak of sounds like it might be something we’d do well to have readily available. Gathering more of it than he needs would be a good idea.”

“Agreed,” Solonn said. “And… thank you for agreeing to stay with him,” he added sincerely. The significance of her decision wasn’t lost on him—here was a Virc and a near-total stranger to boot, willing to be left alone with a creature whom so many of her people had feared. “It’s good to see someone else who doesn’t fear him.”

“If what you claimed he was doing in the temple is true, then I have nothing at all to fear from him,” Zdir said. “And I’m inclined to believe that it is.”

The light in Solonn’s eyes brightened and trembled. He thought to say something in response, but he was moved beyond words. The way Zdir was treating his father and his friend contrasted so greatly with the way the lahain had that for a moment, it all but overwhelmed him.

“…Thank you,” he finally managed, very quietly. Then he turned and allowed Oth to lead him deeper into the forest.

Making his way among that many trees was no easier for Solonn than it had ever been, but the relatively slow pace at which the two moved helped him avoid losing track of Oth. They didn’t rush, scanning the ground carefully for the plant they sought, but Solonn couldn’t help but suspect that Oth couldn’t speed up even if they wanted to. Their levitation was still a little unsteady; it was clear they still had some recovering to do. Their condition had actually factored into his decision to join them in their search for the herb; he was even less comfortable with the notion of leaving Oth all alone.

“How common is it?” he asked. “How long do you think we’ll need to look?”

<Not terribly common,> Oth answered, <but fortunately not terribly rare in this area, either. I think we will be able to gather a sufficient amount within a reasonable frame of time.>

Solonn nodded slightly, but he couldn’t help making a faint, disappointed noise. Whatever Oth considered a “reasonable frame of time” probably wasn’t as short as he hoped. Aid for his father just couldn’t come soon enough as far as he was concerned.

At least something will be done for him, he told himself silently. That was more than could be said for most of the people who were affected by the recent tragedies…

“Oth,” he spoke up; he saw the claydol pause and turn to face him from a couple of yards away. “Thank you for doing this, for bringing us here,” he told them. “I’m glad you’re willing and able to help him.”

Oth lowered their head in acknowledgment of Solonn’s gratitude. <You are welcome,> they said softly.

Relative silence fell over Solonn and Oth as the search wore on, neither of them saying anything. The very faint skittering and buzzing of insects and the calls of birds in the background were the only sounds either of them could hear. Then, finally, <There! I have found some!> Oth said, beckoning with one of their hands, then sped up slightly as they made their way forward and to the left. Solonn followed, and soon the two reached a small cluster of plants that matched the picture Oth had provided. Oth telekinetically harvested the leaves, lifting them into the air, then gathered the leaves up against their chest with their hands and held them there.

<This will serve Grosh with plenty to spare,> Oth said. <We should be able to return now.>

Solonn eyed the gathered herb samples; there looked to be about half a dozen of them. He hoped Oth was right about there being enough, all the while trying, with no real success, not to think about why keeping the medicine in stock had become prudent.

Well… if it’s not enough, we could always come back for more later, he figured, and he couldn’t help but suspect darkly that they’d end up having to do so sooner rather than later. “All right, let’s go,” he said, and the two of them began making their way back through the forest.

Upon returning to Grosh and Zdir, they found the steelix still unconscious. Zdir was waiting next to Grosh’s head. She looked up from where she sat to acknowledge Solonn and Oth as they took their places at her sides.

Oth let go of the leaves and brought them together in a tight bundle in midair, right in front of Grosh’s face. The claydol kept them hovering there for a few moments, letting Grosh breathe in the scent of the leaves for a while. Eventually, the steelix stirred, albeit not much; his head rose a couple of inches off of the ground, and he groaned very faintly, but his eyes remained closed.

<Open your mouth,> Oth instructed him gently.

There was a slight delay, but then Grosh’s mouth fell open, the jaws slackened. Oth let one of the leaves drift free from the bundle as they brought the rest back up against their chest, directing it onto the steelix’s tongue. The flavor awakened Grosh further; his eyes opened partway, unfocused for the moment, and he grimaced, his mouth working as though he were trying to get the offending herb out.

<No, Grosh. You need to consume it.>

That earned another faint groan from the steelix, but Grosh complied nonetheless, closing his jaws and forcing the herb down. He shuddered and stretched, flexing and twisting his segments, then slowly lifted his head further and shook it a bit as if trying to clear something out of it.

Blinking a few times in succession, he stared out at the unfamiliar scene before him for a moment, finally coming back to his senses in earnest, then turned his gaze upon his son.

“Where…?” he asked hoarsely, unable to finish the question.

Where is she? Solonn couldn’t help but suspect that meant, judging by the anguished look on the steelix’s face. But he couldn’t quite find the strength to speak of Azvida, especially not with his father’s grief staring him in the face and stoking his own all the higher.

Sinking wearily to the ground, “We’re in Mordial,” Solonn finally responded, answering a different but likely present question. “We had to flee Virc-Dho… we were being imprisoned there.”

Grosh’s reaction was delayed, but when it came through, there was something dark in his expression, something that spoke of burgeoning, sickened outrage. “No…”

“I’m afraid so,” Zdir said. “You and… Oth, was it?” She looked to the claydol, who nodded. “You were deemed responsible for the murders in the temple and the kidnapping of the children who were at the snowgrounds at the time.”

Oth’s reaction was left untranslated, but the gist of it was clear enough: they sounded distinctly astonished, even hurt. Unconsciously, they reeled back a bit from the others, then lowered their head and closed all of their eyes. Grosh, meanwhile, reared back as if something had lashed out at him, the motion surprisingly forceful for someone who’d just regained consciousness, and his expression was both the most furious and the most pained that Solonn had ever seen.

“How dare they…” the steelix said in a near-bottomless tone, one that somehow sounded just as vulnerable as it did threatening. Fresh streams of tears welled up and poured from his eyes. “How dare anyone even suggest that I’d—” He winced at the thought, shaking with fury. “—that I’d do anything to hurt her!”

“They also accused you of stealing her son,” Solonn said quietly past a lump in his throat. “Jen… he was in the snowgrounds. He was taken.”

Grosh just stared at him for a moment, still shaking, his jaws parting silently and his eyes widening further in the wake of that news. Then his head sank, his gaze dropping to the ground, tears still falling. “Dear God…” he all but whispered, the words cracking. “And… God, I would never…” he managed before his ability to speak failed him altogether.

“I tried to tell them that,” Solonn said miserably. Hearing the hurt in his father’s voice worsened his guilt and shame over failing to get through to the lahain all the more. “I tried to tell them you wouldn’t hurt anyone, either of you…”

“We both did,” Zdir added. “I refused to take ‘it’s not possible’ as an answer from the rest of the council, even knowing what it would cost me.”

What she seemed to be suggesting came as no real surprise to Solonn. “He dismissed you from the council, didn’t he?”

Zdir nodded. “Tried to take me out and throw me in the cell right alongside you three, furthermore, but I saw that coming and headed it off. The lahain—our leader,” she added for the benefit of Grosh and Oth, “just couldn’t stand to take any chances with those of us who weren’t so willing to let people believe his conclusions.”

<Those who were at the temple when we arrived there… the survivors… they saw that we were not the ones responsible, did they not? What about them?> Oth asked.

“Oh, I don’t think the lahain is concerned about what they saw anymore,” Solonn said bitterly. “He seems to have them all convinced that they were only being tricked into seeing glalie attacking them…” He was almost too ashamed to elaborate any further, to tell Oth how his fellow countryman had portrayed them, but finally managed to do so. “He said that you’d deceived them psychically.”

There was a very small delay in the claydol’s reaction. Then their eyes all widened dramatically, and a noise escaped them that suggested they were even struggling to speak in their true voice, let alone their mindvoice.

“I don’t think I can apologize enough for how you’ve been wronged, all of you,” Zdir said sincerely. “Just… just know that not everyone believes these horrible things about you two,” she said with a glance toward Grosh and Oth, “and that you,” she said to Solonn as she turned to face him, “weren’t wrong to stand up for them.”

Grosh’s only response was something between a growl and a sigh, the look on his face telling that he was far from consoled. Solonn looked at him regretfully, knowing that even just one person believing that Grosh could have done something so horrible to someone he loved so much was one too many for the steelix to bear. He wished dearly that he could have done more to prevent his father from having been accused of such things.

Oth lowered their head slightly, some of their eyes shutting halfway and the rest closing completely. They tried and failed to speak again, but finally managed it on the third attempt. <…I appreciate your trust,> they said, both of their voices subdued, <and I thank you for it. I just wish there were something more that I could do for you and for your people. You are still in danger since whoever was actually responsible has not been identified, let alone apprehended… and in return for rescuing us, you deserve anything I could give.>

“Well… perhaps it’s a good thing you feel that way,” Zdir said. “Perhaps it’s a very good thing…” She rose, moving back a bit so she could hold eye contact with all three of the others more easily. “Against our enemies, there’s little we can do. We don’t know exactly how many there are—though if they’re who I think they are, they number in the dozens. At least.”

“Oh gods…” Solonn hadn’t imagined they were quite that numerous—the thought of how high the death toll might be if the enemy were to attack in full force made him feel like his blood had frozen in his veins. “This is exactly why the people back home need to be made aware that the real threat’s still out there. None of them have any idea just how much danger they’re in!”

“Actually, I suspect they’re about to find out it’s not over yet,” Zdir told him. “By now, the Security Guild has probably discovered the empty cell we left behind. I imagine the people will be told about the escape and warned of the possibility of future attacks by more of those ‘illusory’ glalie.”

Solonn looked at her in silence, conflicted about what she’d just told him. Though the Virc still wouldn’t know the whole truth, they’d at least know to look out for trouble from other glalie now. It was a step in the right direction… but still, the Virc would likely continue to believe that two people who meant very much to him were there behind those glalie…

“Anyway,” Zdir went on, “the exiles are clearly well-trained to have been able to take as many lives as they did. My point is, if any of you are thinking of vengeance, I’m afraid you’ll need to think otherwise.”

The noise Grosh made at that and the way he shifted uneasily suggested that he was indeed harboring such thoughts, at least to some degree. An image of what the steelix would likely do to Azvida’s killers appeared in Solonn’s mind, an image of powerful steel coils crushing bodies, a massive tail falling like a hammer and splitting them wide open… Solonn shuddered hard, grimacing, fighting at once to get the gruesome thoughts off his mind.

“There is, however, one thing we may be able to do,” Zdir said. “I believe we might very well have a good chance of being able to rescue the children—a better chance than the Security Guild might have, anyway.”

Four of the eyes upon her widened instantly, and all of Oth’s blinked in surprise. <You truly believe we are capable of such a thing, given the advantages you believe these exiles to have?> they said.

“We have advantages of our own—you especially,” Zdir responded. “Your ability to teleport people could prove invaluable in getting us out of a dangerous situation, getting the children away from their captors, getting anyone who’s suffered any harm the help they’d need…”

She turned a meaningful gaze on Solonn while speaking those last several words, and he recognized just what she was referring to. He’d mentioned the Haven back in the council chamber, albeit not by name. It was a resource that, as far as he could figure, the Security Guild couldn’t provide for the kidnapped children, or for any of their would-be rescuers if it came to that.

<I… must confess that I have a particular concern about this,> Oth said. <While it is true that I can do as you say, the nature of our enemies presents a problem that could undermine my ability to help in that capacity: conceivably, any one of them could subdue me—and for that matter, any of us—in an instant, without warning.>

“Oh, there’s a warning that comes with it, if you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about,” Zdir said as she turned to face the claydol. “If it’s sheer cold or its mother technique, there’s an elemental telltale preceding them that you can feel and react to if you know how. How else do you suppose I avoided being knocked out and shut away with the rest of you? Get away with living for as long as I have and do the kind of work that I’ve done and you learn a few things.”

Solonn stared at her, not sure what to think of her claim. Yes, those techniques came with a perceptible elemental surge. But in his experience, the part of it that came before the execution of those techniques could only be felt by their user. Any observers would only be able to feel the part that accompanied the execution at the most, with no time to react to it.

But then again, that was only what he knew from his experience. Zdir’s extended back decades before his—quite conceivably time enough, he supposed, to have trained herself to catch that telltale in time to thwart such an attack.

<Well,> Oth said, sounding slightly relieved, <if you can indeed perceive these attacks before they connect, I could share in your perception and thereby teleport us away in response… if you will consent to the mental link, of course.>

“Of course,” Zdir said. “So I take it that means you’re willing to take this on?”

<I will,> Oth confirmed.

Zdir gave a faint smile of gratitude. “Thank you,” she said earnestly. “Your decision could save lives.”

She turned to Solonn again, and the question in that look was as obvious as if it had been spoken aloud. He hesitated to answer at first, still uncertain about their chances and all too aware of what could befall them if they failed, and he couldn’t keep the fear out of his eyes.

But ultimately, he couldn’t deny that he felt even worse about how someone especially vulnerable to ice and someone Zdir’s age would fare on their own. They and the children who might very well depend on them needed all the help they could get. Solonn didn’t know what the exiles had in store for the snorunt they’d taken, but every possibility that came to his mind was unacceptable—especially where a member of his own family was concerned.

“Yes,” he told her quietly. “My brother’s out there—if there’s anything I can do to help bring him back, I will.”

“Well then,” Grosh spoke up, lifting his upper body from the ground once more. “You could’ve counted me in from the start, but now it’s even less of a question—I have to go with you.”

Zdir held his gaze for a moment, then turned away with a faint, concerned sound. “Grosh…” she began uneasily, “as much as I’d appreciate your help, I’m… well…”

“You’re what?” Grosh urged her to finish as gently and calmly as he could manage, which wasn’t much of either under the circumstances.

“I’m concerned that your accompanying us would be at the expense of something we need to have on our side—specifically the need to keep our enemies from becoming aware of our presence well before we’re aware of theirs. Grosh… was it you who came to Virc-Dho all those years ago? Were you the silver creature whom people described as… well, as making a lot of noise whenever he moved?”

The steelix blinked, then groaned, recognizing what Zdir was getting at there. “Yes… yes, that was me,” he said, wilting with a sigh. “You’re right… there’s no way they wouldn’t hear us coming if I went with you.”

<Perhaps… that is not necessarily true,> Oth said a bit hesitantly. All eyes turned toward them. <I think I might be able to keep him off the ground. That should eliminate the sound of his slithering.>

Solonn frowned at Oth. It wasn’t that he didn’t want them to try what they were suggesting—he knew how much his father wanted to pitch in on this mission, knew what it meant to him. He was just concerned about them exerting themself in such a way. Even though they’d been specifically trained for shows of strength, it would be no easy feat even to lift, let alone carry, something as heavy as Grosh had to be. Not to mention the fact that given their recent ordeal, Oth surely wasn’t in peak condition…

Holding his tongue, not wanting to undermine Oth’s confidence and make them choke, Solonn watched as bright, fuchsia light filled the claydol’s eyes. Slowly, Grosh rose up from the grass, coming to a stop just a few inches off the ground. Oth held him there for a few seconds… but then the light in their eyes began to falter. The claydol shook slightly as they struggled to maintain their telekinetic hold on him, but not for long—they abruptly lost their grip, and Grosh fell back down with a loud thunk that sent birds from the forest behind them scattering into the air.

Oth hovered unsteadily for a moment, their hands hanging lower than usual as they worked to regather their telekinetic strength. <I am fine…> they told the others, noticing their worried expressions, <and I am sorry,> they said to Grosh.

“That’s all right,” Grosh told them, his voice a low, resigned rumble. “You don’t need to be busting your brain carrying me around, and I don’t need to be slowing you all down by making you have to stop every few seconds to give Oth a break. I can stay here,” he said, though the words were followed by a sigh that told that he still dearly wished he didn’t have to.

Zdir nodded at him, though she looked earnestly sympathetic. “I’m sorry you can’t join us,” she told him. “Don’t worry—we’ll do our best to return safely.” She turned to Oth. “Before we begin our search, I have a few relatives whom I think we should inform about the situation—at the very least, I think they deserve to know what I intend to get myself into. Is there anyone you feel you need to pay a brief visit to before we head out?” she asked of the claydol.

<No,> Oth said. They gathered the unused herb samples back up as they spoke; the leaves had fallen during the claydol’s attempt to hold Grosh aloft. <I am ready whenever the rest of you are.>

“And you?” Zdir asked Solonn.

Solonn nodded. “Just one stop,” he said. Part of him wouldn’t have minded getting a chance to touch base with his old friends from Lilycove again, now that Oth’s presence made such possible. Especially since he couldn’t help but think that the extra stops Zdir proposed were partly intended as a chance to say goodbye… just in case. But he was concerned about taking too much of the time that could be spent searching for the snorunt; he didn’t know how much they had to spare.

He’d have answered Zdir’s question just as Oth had if it weren’t for the fact that Zilag and his family were back there in Virc-Dho—and therefore potentially in harm’s way. He wanted to make absolutely certain that they knew the threat hadn’t passed.

“All right,” Zdir said. “Come on, then. We should be on our way.”

“Just please come back safely,” Grosh said. “Bring her sons back—both of them.”

“We will try,” Zdir tried to assure him.

Solonn looked to his father, swallowing against a lump in his throat at the pain and worry still plain on the steelix’s face. “Goodbye,” he said with difficulty.

“Goodbye,” Grosh returned hoarsely. “Please be careful. Please.”

Solonn could only nod in acceptance of Grosh’s plea, hoping to all gods that everything would turn out all right as Mordial vanished from his sight.
 
Top