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She heard the clamour of battle. "Mal?" <We yet sustain combat, girl. Resume your role.> Laura's heart thumped as if she'd been startled awake from a nightmare, but she did as the noivern asked, scanning the battlefield and issuing commands, scrambling to find the mental rhythm from before...

Malachai went into a flat spin, keening at the sudden loss of lift from his right wing. Laura glanced at it, expecting with nauseated anticipation to see a ragged hole torn by some ranged attack. Her eyes widened – petrification seemed worse somehow. Unhealable. Fatal. Her fingers felt cold...

Malachai's ears twitched and angled down, and his great body shifted underneath Laura as he came around in another wide loop. <Aggron is requesting an airlift, my master. He intends to shatter that barrier.> Laura frowned, then grinned, then shook her head in disbelief. "Can you do it?"...

They'd downed Rayquaza. Laura cycled it in her head over and over, as if it would seem more real. They'd downed– <Yes, yes, I know. There are new gods to fight. Shape up, dull girl.> Laura scowled, but there would be time to bicker later. Right now, the light and heat were growing by the...

Laura took a breath, and pushed through into the conscious, deliberate battle-headspace she needed. Not at all like a League match, really. She couldn't afford to lose. There was an army of trainers and 'mon around her, and they faced off against goddamn Legends. There would be no sportsmanship...