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Pokémon Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Embered Truths

Author's notes.

dwey

feeling the sunshine
Location
A place.
Pronouns
He/Him
Hey all, it's my first time posting here or anywhere, really.
It's also my first story. It's the result of months of rambling and of being inspired by other fan works, which encouraged me to give it a try and write something myself. I don’t expect to create anything amazing or incredibly original, but if you at least enjoy what you read, then I’m satisfied.

Any kind of criticism is welcome. Also, English is not my first language, so please let me know about any grammatical errors.
I hope only to keep improving as time goes on.

Content warnings: Modarete use of profanity. Some scenes with explicit violence and dismemberment. And other things that I will add as time goes on. Probably rated T
 
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Chapter 1: New world.

dwey

feeling the sunshine
Location
A place.
Pronouns
He/Him
The valley lay quiet, wrapped in an intense calm. The wind—gentle for this fleeting moment—carried a cold whisper that rustled the scattered leaves of the few trees dotting the landscape. Sunset was not far now; with it would fade the day’s activity and the soft hum of life that accompanied each passing hour. Already, the stillness that signals a time for rest was settling in. That familiar hour when one can finally relax after a long day’s work and gather strength for whatever tomorrow might bring.
Yet not everyone was granted such luxury, as for some, rest remained a distant, impossible thing.

“Ugh…”

In the middle of the valley, a narrow river cut patiently through the land, its waters nearly crystal-clear. The current was slow and steady enough that crossing from one bank to the other would have been effortless. And on one such riverbank, a lone figure began to stir.

(Aaa… why does everything hurt so much?)

Still half-asleep, she became aware of the cold, unforgiving ground beneath her. With a shaky push of her hands, she managed to sit up and slowly opened both eyes.

What she encountered was unlike anything she could recognize.

Before her stretched a vast valley cradled between two immense mountain ranges—so enormous that she couldn't see the end of either no matter the direction. The peaks were jagged and uneven, some towering far above the rest, their rocky flanks plunging into steep slopes of loose stone and dark earth. Far ahead, near the valley’s heart, a colossal snow-dusted summit loomed. Behind it, the sun was setting, blinding her vision and forcing her to look away. It was, apparently, the biggest mountain of the region. The trail of land surrounding the valley was scattered with patches of moss—small, vivid islands of green against the barren terrain. Everything felt raw, untouched, and so natural, unlike anything she had ever seen.

(Wow… what is this place… how did I get here I don't remember…)

Nothing. A wave of fear gripped her as she searched frantically for any scrap of memory. Names, places, faces, It all eluded her. It was as she was just born, without any memory to explain her situation. She tried standing up to get a better sense of her surroundings—only to trip and fall onto her stomach after stepping on something that sent a sharp jolt of pain through her entire body.

(What the heck?)

With a strained grunt, she managed to turn around, finally facing the culprit of her stumble.

A tail. A dark orange—almost red—tail that, against all logic, carried a small flame dangerously close to going out.

(W-what is this?)

Heart pounding, she forced herself to look down. What she saw almost made her faint, it was unmistakably the body of a creature she knew. Covered in scales of the same color across her body except for her chest and belly, where they were lighter, continuing all the way down to the base of her tail. Her whole body was covered in bruises and a few scratches and cuts. What she thought were her hands, when raised toward her face, ended in paws. Paws. Each one crowned with three sharp claws that moved as naturally as fingers.

(I'm a Charmeleon! How! How did this happen! This doesn't make any sense at all!)

Pushing herself up once again—this time careful of her tail, which she now realized lifted itself off the ground—she got closer to the river, ignoring the the aching coursing through her body ever since she had awakened.

There, reflected in the slow-moving water, she finally saw her face.

The face of a Charmeleon, with two small fangs just visible when her mouth parted, and amber eyes sharper in shape than she remembered having as a human. They glowed with a deep, ember-like intensity, alive with a heat that didn’t belong to her old self.

“Nonononono—” she had to force herself to slow her breathing. “This isn't happening, this is not real, this is…”

Even her voice had changed; it now carried a slight hoarseness she was sure hadn’t existed before.

(Ok… ok… try not to panic, stop hyperventilating.)

She backed away from the river, remembering the sickly flicker of her tail flame. Grabbing it carefully, she brought it closer to inspect it. To her surprise, it didn’t produce any smoke at all.

(D-Does this mean I’m close to dying?)

The thought alone made her stomach twist.

(It’s really small… It should be way bigger, right?)

Again the aching assaulted her—worse than before. Even the slightest movement sent jolts of pain across her limbs, and now they shook under their own weight. Another grunt escaped her as a wave of dizziness washed over her, leaving her more exhausted than before.

Standing was becoming difficult, and her panic rose once more.

(G-gotta think, pull myself together…)

Looking upstream, she gathered all her strength and started walking along the riverbank.
(Aaa… I ended up ashore here. The current only goes one way, so if I follow the opposite direction, I should find where I fell and—with luck—help.)
It was the best course of action she could wring from her fading mind. Night would fall soon, and she had no desire to find out what kinds of wild Pokémon roamed the valley in the dark. Quickening her pace though it hardly made a difference.

Even walking felt wrong; with her new form, her legs were much shorter, her balance off and the ground seemed closer than ever due to her reduced height, which only added to her discomfort.

With the slow, miserable walk giving her nothing but time to think, she finally acknowledged the weight on her lower back—one that hadn’t existed before—and the strange warmth that accompanied it. It was soothing and oddly reassuring, as though something inside her spirit relaxed simply from knowing it was there, no matter how small.

(It almost feels like someone's cheering for me… Like all my will is concentrated in that little light…)

But, then

(It doesn't feel right… Not entirely. Somehow I know that it should be warmer, stronger)

With a heavy sigh, she forced herself to stop thinking about it. It wasn’t like she knew how to fix it.

(At least I remembered what Pokémon are. Gosh, how am I supposed to explain anything to anyone?)
Her legs burned from the effort; it hadn’t even been that long since she started.
(Would anyone even believe me? Better yet, would anyone even understand me?)

Darkness slowly draped itself over the valley as the final traces of twilight vanished.

(At least… I have… my own light.)

She tried clinging to the positive side, but such an attitude could only carry someone so far.

Minutes passed—or maybe hours; she couldn’t tell. All she knew was the growing struggle of lifting one foot after the other. Her strength slipped away faster than she could recover it, each breath colder, each step heavier. Looking back at her tail, wasn't making her feel any better, seeing that the fire that apparently gave her life hasn't grown any larger. Fearing that even the slightest of breezes might snuff it out.

Looking again at the river current, she realized that the further upstream she went, the more treacherous it became, with rapids accompanied by rocks that crashed violently, creating splashes on both sides.

(Did I really float all the way down? Might explain why my body hurts so much, also the flame…)

A sudden feeling of pain lashed out at her. So strong that it forced a complete stop.

Finally, her legs gave out.

Breathing hard, she collapsed onto the dirt. No matter how much she tried, her body refused to rise again.

(N-No… please… I have to keep going…)

Her flame flickered rapidly, almost desperately, trying to give its host a spark of strength. But it wasn't enough.

Her eyes stung with tears. Why her? What had she done to deserve this? Was it punishment? How could she fix any of it when she couldn’t even remember…

Her own name.

It hit her like a punch to the gut. She had been so preoccupied, so overwhelmed, that she hadn’t even realized—

She didn’t know who she was.

A low, pitiful whine escaped her. She hugged herself, bringing her tail close, trying to hold onto what little warmth she had left.

A sudden rustle jolted her.

From the corner of her eye, she saw movement. Snapping her head left toward the source, she found only tall grass.

No there it was again, movement, she didn't imagine it, the rustle became larger, noisier and closer to her. Fearing the worst she crawled away as much as her weakened body allowed

A sudden glow—then a light? No, a small flame. It flickered between the swaying blades of grass, casting brief, shifting shadows on the ground. Before she could even process it, a figure rose from within the tall grass.

A Charmeleon stood there, looking directly at her. Completely still, almost like a statue.

(W-What?) She tried to stand up again, but her arms trembled too much to hold her weight.

“O-Oh… n-no… a-are you okay?”

The voice was small, anxious—almost trembling. Out of nowhere, the Pokémon started to breathe a bit too quickly, as if remembering it was alive and needed to do so.

“What?” (What!) “You… you just talked?”

Her voice cracked with disbelief.

“Umm… y-yesss?”

The Charmeleon shrank slightly, shoulders hunching as it tilted its head. Too much—realizing it, it corrected itself. Its tail flame flickered low, almost unnaturally so, betraying its own nervousness.

“But that can’t be! Pokémon can’t talk!”

“B-but you’re a P-Pokémon, r-right…?”

It shifted its weight anxiously from one foot to the other, its tail swishing in short, jerky motions.

“Huh? No, no, no—” She shook her head rapidly. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m a human!”

Its eyes widened, pupils tightening in alarm.

Her voice rose with desperation. Perhaps this Pokémon could help her. She leaned forward despite the burn in her limbs.

“Please… you’ve got to help me. I just woke up and I was like this and I can’t remember anything and I—”

“O-oh… no…”

It looked away, scanning the darkness behind it. Its claws fiddled nervously with each other. Its tail flame dimmed further, sputtering close to the dirt.

“I-Is something wrong?”

She tried to move closer, but her legs buckled beneath her. She steadied herself with her hands on the ground, not wanting to frighten it.

“Please, I know I must sound insane. You don’t have to believe me, I just—”

“N-no, I b-believe you.”

It forced itself to meet her gaze again, uncertainty and fear twisting in its expression.

“I—I was sent here to look after something like y-you…”

“You were?”

“Y-yeah…” Its claws tightened around its own arms. “You weren’t supposed to be here…”

It took a shaky breath.

“I’m not? O-of course! This must be some sort of mistake!”

A weak, hopeful smile lit her face. Maybe someone had been searching for her. Maybe everything would end up okay.

But why then… why does it look so sad?

“Are you okay?”

Her voice softened, now with concern instead of panic.

“I’m… I-I-I’m sorry, but I-I have to…”

Its fists closed tightly, squeezing its eyes shut, inhaling through its teeth in a long, strained breath.

“…take care of you…”

It whispered it—so faint she almost missed it.

“What? What do you mean?”

Her pulse spiked.

“No… you can’t mean—”

It took a step forward.

“W-wait! What did I ever do to you!?”

Her back pressed against the ground as she scrambled away.

Another step.

“STOP! Don’t come any closer!”

It hesitated.

“I don’t even know you!”

“I-I-I’m so sorry…”

It stepped forward anyway, trembling just as much as she was.

“If I don’t do this…”

Silence.

“…t-they’ll be mad at me.”
 
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Negrek

Ignis Aurum Probat
Staff
Premium
Welcome to the forums! And congrats on getting your first story posted; that's a big hurdle for everyone, so I hope you're feeling good about having gotten over it.

This is a really interesting start! I like how you're playing with the expectations of the genre and indicating that something is clearly *off* about the situation, for example by having the protagonist and the partner(?) be of the same species and the partner apparently intending to "finish the job" rather than help the human character.

I also think you do a nice job of signaling that something's off fairly early on, with the protagonist's preoccupation with the size of her flame and confusion over her injuries. I hadn't put much stock in them until towards the end of the chapter when it becomes clear that something is really off about the situation and this isn't just standard "protagonist is in bad shape when they show up in the Pokéworld" fare. One thing that did confuse me: the protagonist states "At least I remembered what Pokémon are and who I am," but then later realizes she doesn't know her own name. So... she does not in fact know who she is?

The story also has a fine sense of place; I can tell you enjoy your environmental descriptions! It certainly gets across the sense of the Pokémon World being a wild and largely uninhabited place. I'm curious whether it's at all similar to the kind of environment the protagonist lived in as a human.

I wouldn't have guessed you weren't a native speaker if you hadn't mentioned it! There are some odd beats here and there, but for the most part your mechanics are coming along pretty well. One thing that stood out to me as unusual was the spacing of some of your paragraphs. In some places there's no blank space between two adjacent paragraphs, for example:

“Nonononono—” she had to force herself to slow her breathing. “This isn't happening, this is not real, this is…”
Even her voice had changed; it now carried a slight hoarseness she was sure hadn’t existed before.

Darkness slowly draped itself over the valley as the final traces of twilight vanished.
(At least… I have… my own light.)
She tried clinging to the positive side, but such an attitude could only carry someone so far.

“I-I-I’m so sorry…”
He stepped forward anyway, trembling just as much as she was.
“If I don’t do this…"
Silence.
"...t-they’ll be mad at me.”

At first I thought it was just a case of missing a paragraph here or there, perhaps because you were copying and pasting from another site. However, towards the end especially, it seemed like you might be doing it because you thought that you ought to group together pieces of related dialogue/introspection with single spaces instead of double spaces? That's not the case if so; in all the examples given, I would expect to see a blank space between each paragraph, as you've done throughout most of the document:

“Nonononono—” she had to force herself to slow her breathing. “This isn't happening, this is not real, this is…”

Even her voice had changed; it now carried a slight hoarseness she was sure hadn’t existed before.

Darkness slowly draped itself over the valley as the final traces of twilight vanished.

(At least… I have… my own light.)

She tried clinging to the positive side, but such an attitude could only carry someone so far.

“I-I-I’m so sorry…”

He stepped forward anyway, trembling just as much as she was.

“If I don’t do this…"

Silence.

"...t-they’ll be mad at me.”

That aside, there's not a ton to say here; this is a quick first chapter, and primarily introduction/setup. I'm curious to see where things go from here, though! You've already introduced a mystery beyond what we normally see at the beginning of PMD stories, and I'd love to see how it develops. I hope you're able to post some more chapters soon!
 
Chapter 2: Running on embers.

dwey

feeling the sunshine
Location
A place.
Pronouns
He/Him
It lunged at her.

Before she could scream, the attacker was already on top of her. One knee pressed hard against her chest, pinning her to the ground, while both its hands wrapped tightly around her throat.

“I’m s-sorry,” it stammered. “I don’t want to do this.”

She struggled, pushing against it with shaking arms, but her body had nothing left to give—no strength, no leverage.

“B-but I need to… otherwise I-I won’t…”

Her legs kicked uselessly against the dirt. She twisted, clawed, thrashed—nothing. Its grip only tightened.

“I-I promise… this is for the good of all,” it whispered, as if trying to convince itself more than her.

(I don’t… I don’t want to die! Please!)

Her vision blurred, the edges darkening as oxygen slipped away.

(No…)

It didn’t take long before everything collapsed into black.







Darkness swallowed her—thick, smothering, absolute.

She couldn’t see. She couldn’t move.

She was dead, wasn’t she? Or at least… she would be soon.



“NO!”

The darkness itself roared.

“Remember what you said! You would never give up! I know you wouldn’t!”

A… voice?

It sounded close. Familiar. A memory?

“I don’t know if you can still hear me… but it can’t end like this!”

“Please! You have to get up!”

“Please… I beg you…”

Her eyes snapped open.

Heat surged through her—fierce, wild, instinctive. She opened her mouth and, before she could even guess why, a blast of fire burst out and shot straight into the attacker’s face.

“Agh!”

It recoiled, stumbling back as the flames forced it away. “Wha-what?!”

(How did I do that!?)

She wheezed and coughed, but finally her limbs obeyed her. She pushed herself to her feet, trembling but standing.

“H-How…?” said the Charmeleon. “D-doesn’t matter, this time I’ll get it right—”

Before it could take another step, she felt it again—the heat building, rising to her throat. Opening her mouth once more, she unleashed a blast of flame even stronger than the last, knocking the attacker to the ground.

Another coughing fit followed, smoke slipping out between her breaths. (Did I knock it cold?)

No—the Charmeleon began to get up with relative ease, not looking too hurt.

(Of course, it’s a fire type as well.) Could she beat it? A part of her wanted to try. (No, are you mad? You don’t know how to fight! I have to get away—now.)

Stealing one last glance at the stunned Charmeleon, she turned and fled. Stumbling at first, tripping over her own feet, but soon enough momentum carried her into a desperate, uneven run.

“H-hey! Wait!”

It didn’t chase her.

“Y-you can’t!”

Adrenaline was coursing through her whole being, allowing her to power through the pain, the fire in her tail rippling strongly for the first time since she woke up.

(Where to go, where to go, where, to go) losing him was her safest bet, as she doubted she could outrun him forever (Come on! there has to be somewhere… ah there!)

Moving away from the river, she headed for an area filled with trees. Zigzagging through them, she finally ventured far enough in to lose sight of the distant fire of the Charmeleon.

Not wanting to take any risks, she didn't slow down, moving deeper in the woods. Her tail twitched rapidly from side to side, scattering small embers that fell to the forest floor, scorching the earth. Branches snapped underfoot as she ran, hardly inconspicuous at all. Somewhere around her, the sounds of disturbed wildlife echoed through the night.

She vaulted over fallen logs, tripped, crashed to the ground—then forced herself back up. When she dared to look behind her, there was no sign of him.

“Agh!”

Distracted, she ran straight into a spider web that clung stubbornly to her face.

“G-get it off me!”

The web was thick. Sticky. Stronger than it had any right to be.

“W-what are these made of?!”

“Pff… pff…”

Finally free, she staggered to a tree and leaned against it, sliding down until she hit the ground, chest heaving.

“Did… did I lose him?”

As her breathing steadied, she let out a shaky laugh.

“Ha… ha… okay… I need a moment…”

She adjusted slightly, feeling her tail pressed awkwardly beneath her.

The pain returned—sharp and insistent—now joined by a burning sensation along her neck, where she was certain the marks of the attack remained..

“This has to be a nightmare”

She clung to that thought desperately, to the fragile comfort that this was all a trick of the mind. But the world refused to cooperate. A light breeze carried the dry scent of soil and sap which invaded her nostrils and stirred loose leaves against her being.

“Right?”

Passing a paw over one of her arms, she felt her claws scrape against the scales, an unfamiliar texture that only deepened her despair. As she tried to steady herself, the sound of her claws dragging against dirt reached her ears, retreating the ground and soul far too easily, the sharp scrape something mere fingers could never produce.

All too real.

“What was that voice anyway?”

She closed her eyes, trying to recall it.

(It somehow gave me the strength that I needed… It said that I wouldn't give up)

Flap, flap, flap.

(Huh?)

To her right, several small birds were perched on branches—Pidgey—staring down at her with curious intensity.

“Oh… just a couple of Pidgey. Can you understand me too?”

Silence. They only stared. Feeling foolish, she sighed.

“Guess not… Maybe I just imagined the whole thing. The voice… that Charmeleon…”

She hadn’t.

But believing that was easier than accepting someone had just tried to kill her.

Hsssss…

The Pidgey scattered upon hearing another sound this time to her left.

From the shadows emerged an arachnid Pokémon. Massive, towering over her, an Araquanid. A sphere of water encased its head, and its huge mandibles clicked with unsettling rhythm, opening and closing in anticipation.

“Oh… uh… that wasn't your web by any chance right?” Intimidated by size alone she staggered back to her feet.

The Araquanid lowered itself, its many legs spreading as it studied her with cold, predatory focus. The bubble encasing its head churned violently, water sloshing inside as its mandibles clicked.

Perhaps, if she slowly backed away…

As soon as she tried, The Araquanid shrieked. A piercing, high-pitched tone that forced her hands to her ears.

Then it launched a barrage of bubble projectiles, fired at incredible speed.

(Move!)

Instincts took over. She dove aside, barely avoiding the attack, the bubbles smashing into the tree she was just resting on. They clung to the bark like glue.

If one hit her, she’d be trapped

And become this Pokemon food.

Barely managing to push herself up, the Charmeleon stumbled away as another volley whizzed past her, bursting against rocks and roots this time.

(What's—wrong with this world?!)

She couldn't believe it; ever since she woke up, everything had been against her, as if the world itself decided she didn't belong.

“Just leave me alone!”

Her legs trembled, exhaustion pulling at her thoughts, her body begging her to stop. Fighting wasn’t an option. Winning wasn’t either.

So she chose the same tactic.

Lose her foe.

Facing the monstrous spider once more, she gathered what little strength she had left, preparing a fire attack—not to win, but to cover her escape.

The Araquanid anchored itself to the ground, legs digging in as it waited for her move.

There!

The heat rose in her chest, climbing toward her throat! ready to—

“hhk—hhk—hkk—!”

Her body betrayed her.

A violent coughing fit wracked her frame, smoke spilling uselessly from her mouth.

“Aaa— not now!” she rasped, waving both arms desperately to clear the haze. “Work with me… please…”

The Araquanid didn’t hesitate.

Using its full mass, it lunged.

The impact knocked the air from her lungs as she was slammed to the ground, pain exploding across her side. Before she could recover, the Araquanid loomed over her, its mandibles spreading wide, rage vibrating through its frame.

(Nonono!)

Just as it reared back—

A blade of pure energy cut through the air.

It struck the Araquanid cleanly, forcing it back with a shrill shriek as it skidded across the forest floor.

“Here! Take my hand!”

Another figure stepped into her blurred vision.

A Gallade.

“There—can you run?” Gallade asked, scanning the forest with sharp urgency. “We need to get out of here before more come.”

She answered with a shaky nod. Seeing it, he offered a brief, reassuring smile and motioned forward.

“Then let’s go. I’ll watch your back—just follow the dirt path.”

Without a moment to lose, they both took off racing with Charmeleon in the lead while the Gallade followed closely behind. In her exhaustion, she was sure that he could outpaced her with no problems, yet he didn't.

The forest, once merely disturbed by her presence, now felt fully awake. Branches creaked overhead. Shadows shifted where nothing should have moved. Eyes glinted from the darkness between trees. What she had thought was a simple escape from the Araquanid quickly became something far worse.

Pokémon emerged from all sides—mostly Bug-types—no longer lurking, but chasing. Hunting.

A Heracross burst from the undergrowth, horn lowered, aiming straight for her chest. It never reached her. A blade of psychic energy tore through the air, striking the beetle Pokémon mid-leap and sending it crashing, collapsing in the dirt.

However, for every Pokémon that Gallede managed to knock down, three more appeared to took its place. With no clear exit from the twisting forest.

“We won't be able to outrun them at this pace” Gallade said, forming another glowing blade between his arms. Psycho Cut, she somehow knew. “We don’t have any choice left.”

He glanced forward.

“We have to enter the dungeon.”

Taking the initiative, he took her arm and led them both through the relentless barrage of attacks that seemed to come from all sides. Jaws, clawing limbs, and bursts of hostile movement, they somehow come out alive.

Making one last sharp turn, he headed for an area where the trees were even denser, if that were even possible.

No… it wasn’t just that.

It was as if the forest itself had been compressed into something unnatural. The trunks stood so close together that passage between them was impossible, and at the end of that suffocating corridor lay a wall of thick mist—absolute darkness, where all light seemed to be swallowed whole, where life itself appeared to end.

“Don’t let go!”

Before she could question either Gallade or the phenomenon ahead, they plunged into the mist.

And everything around her changed.



For some, rest was impossible.

They had heard the stories, of course—how could they not? It was all anyone talked about back in the capital. The endless cold. The failing land. The last harvest. Still, they had never paid much attention to it.

How they wished they could take that back.

Why had they been chosen? Because they were the closest? Because someone else’s task had been deemed more important? No support had been sent. Not this time. Not ever.

A failure. They knew that was how they were seen.

And now… the target was gone.

Gone because they had hesitated. Because fear had rooted them in place. Because the forest itself had felt wrong, oppressive, alive. Because they were someone incapable of playing the role assigned to them.

If they returned after another failure—especially one of this magnitude…

No. They couldn’t allow that line of thought.

They would fix this. They would find her. And next time, they would not fail.

There was still time. They weren’t meant to meet for several days.

High in the branches of a tree, a Pidgey perched in silence, eyes scanning the forest below as the search was abandoned—for now.

(This form isn’t quite right,) they thought. (I’ve never managed to copy anyone perfectly.)

Fatigue crept in slowly, insidiously, until maintaining the shape became impossible.

(But it doesn’t matter… not if they don't know I even exist.)

The Pidgey’s form began to sag, feathers warping and melting as though made of wax. Limbs lost definition, the body collapsing inward in a grotesque, silent unraveling.

(They’ll be proud. I know it.)

What remained was nothing more than a small, amorphous creature—featureless, gelatinous.

A Ditto.

(I will reach paradise.)



Notes:
I completely underestimated how long it would take me to write this chapter. Initially, I planned for it to be at least 6,000 words, but I decided to cut it down. Hopefully, the next chapters will be a bit longer. I'm truly impressed by writers who can write chapters of up to 10,000 words; my respect goes out to them.

Also, it took me perhaps too long to research whether Araquanid could spin webs. In the end, I thought, "Hey, it's an arachnid, I'm sure it can."

I also made about two edits to the previous chapter—nothing major—and I appreciate that the errors in this last one were pointed out to me.
 
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Negrek

Ignis Aurum Probat
Staff
Premium
Ah, so the mysterious not-partner is a ditto! That’s fun; it’s rare to see a ditto get more than a bit part in a story, but there’s a lot you can do with them, especially if they’re going to be the sneaky antagonists type. Right now their motivations are a bit too vague to really latch onto—something about proving they aren’t a failure—but I’m excited to see what role they’ll play in the story.

The introduction of the gallade, too, is promising. Hopefully that’s someone who’ll have some answers about what’s going on in the world, since it’s clear that something’s up. Normally the hordes of bloodthirsty pokemon are on the inside of the dungeons, not the outside! Last chapter made the world feel quiet and pristine, but this one pivoted pretty hard into “wild” and “dangerous” territory! I’m worried that the dungeon our protagonist has run off to won’t prove much better.

At this point, a lot of mysteries have been set up, both about the protagonist and the world she finds herself in. Events have kept her mostly rushing from place thus far, but I’m looking forward to a time when she’s able to relax a little and process what all’s been happening to her. How she responds to her situation when she’s not forced to run for her life will say a lot about her character, I think.

There were a lot fewer smushed-together paragraphs this time around, so maybe you figured out what was causing them. Still a few at the beginning of the chapter in particular, though, such as these:

(I don’t… I don’t want to die! Please!)
Her vision blurred, edges darkening as oxygen slipped away.
(No…)
It didn’t take long before everything collapsed into black.


(How did I do that!?)
She wheezed and coughed, but finally her limbs obeyed her. She pushed herself to her feet, trembling but standing.

There!
The heat rose in her chest, climbing toward her throat! ready to—

I was a bit confused by this passage:

As she tried to steady herself, the sound of claws dragging against dirt reached her ears, retreating far too easily, the sharp scrape something mere fingers could never produce.
Not sure what that scraping noise is supposed to indicate; dittomeleon running away? The protagonist doesn’t react to it at all, so I wasn’t clear on whether it’s supposed to be scary, reassuring, confusing, whatever.

She answered with a shaky nod. Seeing it, he offered a brief, reassuring smile and motioned forward.

With a shaky nod as an answer, he smiled and gestured for her to move.
These two paragraphs repeat each other. Not sure if you were just trying two ways of approaching the action and then forgot to delete one, but whatever the case, you definitely only need one of these paragraphs!

In any case, nice work getting another chapter out, even if it wasn’t as long as you’d wanted. Writing can be a slow process! I’ll look forward to another chapter whenever it’s posted. I’d love to learn more about all these mysterious characters!
 

K_S

Unrepentent Giovanni and Rocket fan
Hi, welcome aboard i'm here to blitz you, lets see how it goes!


The valley lay quiet, wrapped in an intense calm. The wind—gentle for this fleeting moment—carried a cold whisper that rustled the scattered leaves of the few trees dotting the landscape.(23) Sunset was not far now; with it would fade the day’s activity and the soft hum of life that accompanied each passing hour)24). Already, the stillness that signals a time for rest was settling in. That familiar hour when one can finally relax after a long day’s work and gather strength for whatever tomorrow might bring.(21)


What a pretty and poetic way to herald the time and indicate transition from one mofe to another . It'd of been interesting to see the prose show who and what were retiring (no guarentees since this is a fanfic and all that) for the day's end but perhaps i'm jumping ahead a little.


Yet not everyone was granted such luxury, as for some, rest remained a distant, impossible thing.(18)

“Ugh…”

Hi p.o.v. i see youre overworked today. Or stropy. Both seem legit.

In the middle of the valley, a narrow river cut patiently through the land, its waters nearly crystal-clear.(19) The current was slow and steady enough that crossing from one bank to the other would have been effortless(19). And on one such riverbank, a lone figure began to stir.

So i noticed you have looong sentences.

(This appears to be a thing i keep re-encountering)

You'll notice i numbered a few of your sentences. While lush, they have a trait of being a bit list like. Anything over 15 words i numbered. Almost all of them can be broken down into smaller bite sizes. Still retain thier data, but be a little easier on the eyes. I'll break down the first segment to give you a sample, and if you wanna incorperate it going forward, go ahead.
Otherwise no worries.

Sample

Yet not everyone was granted such luxury, as for some, rest remained a distant, impossible thing.(18)

Alterations

Yet not everyone was granted such luxury(7). For some, rest remained an unatainable distant, impossible thing.(7)

Luxury is one thought, ergo one line. Unatainable bespeaks of impossible and unreachable so i swapped the word out and cut a few others while keeping your base structure and tone. We got 2x 7s. And it reads a little easier for the eyes if nothing else.

(Aaa… why does everything hurt so much?)

Still half-asleep, she became aware of the cold, unforgiving ground beneath her. With a shaky push of her hands, she managed to sit up and slowly opened both eyes.

In 2 lines you used her/she 4 times. If you swappped a few out with descriptors.your reader could get a idea of what she is. Her build. Her shape (real important when most fics are mon p.o.v. and theres hundreds of body types for mon in canon game much less fanon critters too) ect.
What she encountered was unlike anything she could recognize.

Before her stretched a vast valley cradled between two immense mountain ranges—so enormous that one couldn't see the end of either no matter the direction.

Well this lietally puts a inetersting spin on a the term sugar bowl setting. I mean geologically speaking its a bowl, if its a happy place it literally could be considered... you know a literal sugar bowl and.. maybe the ideas a bit tvtrop-y but its the first image to pop into my head...

The peaks were jagged and uneven, some towering far above the rest, their rocky flanks plunging into steep slopes of loose stone and dark earth. Far ahead, near the valley’s heart, a colossal snow-dusted summit loomed. Behind it, the sun was setting, blinding her vision and forcing her to look away. It was, apparently, the biggest mountain of the region. The trail of land surrounding the valley was scattered with patches of moss—small, vivid islands of green against the barren terrain. Everything felt raw, untouched, and so natural, unlike anything she had ever seen.

(Wow… what is this place… how did I get here I don't remember…)

Nothing. A wave of fear gripped her as she searched frantically for any scrap of memory. Names, places, faces, It all eluded her. It was as she was just born,

With really good cordination, and a fully functioning vocabulary...

but nitpick aside, the thing thats struck me about amnesia protag fics is how, in the wild, would they think to remember people and places to have that "i dont remember" freak out. Because to worry about that you would have to remember something, especially if there was no prompts to make you actually remember...

Anyway it was just a thought that popped into my head while readong your p.o.v.s freakout


without any memory to explain her situation. She tried standing up to get a better sense of her surroundings—only to trip and fall onto her stomach after stepping on something that sent a sharp jolt of pain through her entire body.

I take back the cordinated line... hmm four legs and a tail is my guess... maybe an eevee line?

(What the heck?)

With a strained grunt, she managed to turn around, finally facing the culprit of her stumble.

A tail. A dark orange—almost red—tail that, against all logic, carried a small flame dangerously close to going out.

Oh a charmander line. Thank goodness p.o.v. didn't smoother thier own tail by accident that'd be the shortest mystery dungeon adventure ever.
(W-what is this?)

Heart pounding, she forced herself to look down. What she saw almost made her faint, it was unmistakably the body of a creature she knew. Covered in scales of the same color across her body except for her chest and belly, where they were lighter, continuing all the way down to the base of her tail. Her whole body was covered in bruises and a few scratches and cuts. What she thought were her hands, when raised toward her face, ended in paws. Paws. Each one crowned with three sharp claws that moved as naturally as fingers.

(I'm a Charmeleon! How! How did this happen! This doesn't make any sense at all!)

Youre an amnesiac with a weirdly specific set of memories (game data) of course nothing makes sense...

Pushing herself up once again—this time careful of her tail, which she now realized lifted itself off the ground—she got closer to the river, ignoring the the aching coursing through her body ever since she had awakened.

In shortnit was a limping walk interspaced with hissed "owowowouchieow"

There, reflected in the slow-moving water, she finally saw her face.

The face of a Charmeleon, with two small fangs just visible when her mouth parted, and amber eyes sharper in shape than she remembered having as a human. They glowed with a deep, ember-like intensity, alive with a heat that didn’t belong to her old self.

“Nonononono—” she had to force herself to slow her breathing. “This isn't happening, this is not real, this is…”

Even her voice had changed; it now carried a slight hoarseness she was sure hadn’t existed before.

(Ok… ok… try not to panic, stop hyperventilating.)

She backed away from the river, remembering the sickly flicker of her tail flame. Grabbing it carefully, she brought it closer to inspect it. To her surprise, it didn’t produce any smoke at all.

(D-Does this mean I’m close to dying?)

The thought alone made her stomach twist.

(It’s really small… It should be way bigger, right?)

Well she could lay some grass on it. Try to feed it to greater heights maybe?

Again the aching assaulted her—worse than before. Even the slightest movement sent jolts of pain across her limbs, and now they shook under their own weight. Another grunt escaped her as a wave of dizziness washed over her, leaving her more exhausted than before.

Standing was becoming difficult, and her panic rose once more.

(G-gotta think, pull myself together…)

Looking upstream, she gathered all her strength and started walking along the riverbank.
(Aaa… I ended up ashore here. The current only goes one way, so if I follow the opposite direction, I should find where I fell and—with luck—help.)
It was the best course of action she could wring from her fading mind. Night would fall soon, and she had no desire to find out what kinds of wild Pokémon roamed the valley in the dark. Quickening her pace though it hardly made a difference.

At this point a wild level one cleffa would probably be an issue. Perhaps she should be loking for places to hide?

Even walking felt wrong; with her new form, her legs were much shorter, her balance off and the ground seemed closer than ever due to her reduced height, which only added to her discomfort.

I can only imagine how many times she tripped figuring out her new center of gravity...

With the slow, miserable walk giving her nothing but time to think, she finally acknowledged the weight on her lower back—one that hadn’t existed before—and the strange warmth that accompanied it. It was soothing and oddly reassuring, as though something inside her spirit relaxed simply from knowing it was there, no matter how small.

(It almost feels like someone's cheering for me… Like all my will is concentrated in that little light…)

But, then

(It doesn't feel right… Not entirely. Somehow I know that it should be warmer, stronger)

Perhaps when the pain dims and she gets medical help... and a drink and food... and nap...

How is she gunna manage bedding with an extendable lighter going full tip on her backside 24/7. At least cyq' line and most fire lines have a flame off mode (minus inciniroar, and slugma and maybe magmar)

With a heavy sigh, she forced herself to stop thinking about it. It wasn’t like she knew how to fix it.

(At least I remembered what Pokémon are. Gosh, how am I supposed to explain anything to anyone?)

Thats assuming there is an anyone else. Theres been no sign of life yet.... and the scope of the place makes breath of the wild look tiny.

Her legs burned from the effort;

Its a horrid pun, but it made me crack a smile.

it hadn’t even been that long since she started.
(Would anyone even believe me? Better yet, would anyone even understand me?)

Darkness slowly draped itself over the valley as the final traces of twilight vanished.

(At least… I have… my own light.)

She tried clinging to the positive side, but such an attitude could only carry someone so far.

Minutes passed—or maybe hours; she couldn’t tell. All she knew was the growing struggle of lifting one foot after the other. Her strength slipped away faster than she could recover it, each breath colder, each step heavier. Looking back at her tail, wasn't making her feel any better, seeing that the fire that apparently gave her life hasn't grown any larger. Fearing that even the slightest of breezes might snuff it out.

Looking again at the river current, she realized that the further upstream she went, the more treacherous it became, with rapids accompanied by rocks that crashed violently, creating splashes on both sides.

(Did I really float all the way down? Might explain why my body hurts so much, also the flame…)

A sudden feeling of pain lashed out at her. So strong that it forced a complete stop.

Finally, her legs gave out.

Breathing hard, she collapsed onto the dirt. No matter how much she tried, her body refused to rise again.

(N-No… please… I have to keep going…)

Her flame flickered rapidly, almost desperately, trying to give its host a spark of strength. But it wasn't enough.

Her eyes stung with tears. Why her? What had she done to deserve this? Was it punishment? How could she fix any of it when she couldn’t even remember…

Her own name.

It hit her like a punch to the gut. She had been so preoccupied, so overwhelmed, that she hadn’t even realized—

She didn’t know who she was.

A low, pitiful whine escaped her. She hugged herself, bringing her tail close, trying to hold onto what little warmth she had left.

A sudden rustle jolted her.

From the corner of her eye, she saw movement. Snapping her head left toward the source, she found only tall grass.

Hm is this a wild encounter.. or a wild partner? Could be either way.

No there it was again, movement, she didn't imagine it, the rustle became larger, noisier and closer to her. Fearing the worst she crawled away as much as her weakened body allowed

A sudden glow, then a light? No, a small flame, It flickered between the swaying blades of grass, casting brief, shifting shadows on the ground. Before she could even process it, a figure rose from within the tall grass.

A Charmeleon stood there, looking directly at her. Completely still, almost like a statue.

(W-What?) She tried to stand up again but her arms trembled too much to hold her weight.

“O-Oh… n-no… a-are you ok?”

Wonder why her chatter is in parenthases () and the other char' is in quotations.

The voice was small, anxious—almost trembling. Out of nowhere the Pokemon started to breathe, a bit too quickly, as if remembering it was alive and needed to do so.

So the new char' is being all anxious and trembly? Or is it our p.o.v.

“What?” (What!) “You… you just talked?”
Her voice cracked with disbelief.

“Umm… y-yesss?”
The Charmeleon shrank slightly, shoulders hunching as it tilted its head. Too much, he realized this and corrected himself. Its tail flame flickered low, almost unnaturally so, betraying its own nervousness.

“But that can’t be! Pokémon can’t talk!”

“B-but you’re a P-Pokémon, r-right…?”
He shifted his weight anxiously from one foot to the other, tail swishing in short, jerky motions.

“Huh? No, no, no—” She shook her head rapidly. ” I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m a human!”

Wow, we are sharing that revelation out of the gate arent we? The reaction should be interesting.

His eyes widened, and his pupils were tightening in alarm.

Her voice rose with desperation. Perhaps this Pokemon could help her! She leaned forward despite the burn in her limbs.

“Please… you’ve got to help me. I just woke up and I was like this and I can’t remember anything and I—”

“O-oh… no…”
He looked away, scanning the darkness behind him. Claws fiddling nervously with each other. His tail flame dimmed further, sputtering close to the dirt.

“I-Is something wrong?”
She tried to move closer, but her legs buckled beneath her. She steadied herself with her hands on the ground, not wanting to frighten him.
“Please, I know I must sound insane. You don’t have to believe me, I just—”

“N-no, I b-believe you.”
He forced himself to meet her gaze again. Uncertainty and fear twisting in his expression.
“I—I was sent here to look after something like y-you…”

Hmm, thats not good. That sounds out and out ominous.

“You were?”

“Y-yeah…” His claws tightened around his own arms. “You weren’t supposed to be here…”
He took a shaky breath.

“I’m not? O-of course! This must be some sort of mistake!”
A weak, hopeful smile lit her face. Maybe someone had been searching for her. Maybe everything will end up ok!

But why then… Why does he look so sad?

“Are you ok?”
Her voice softened, now with concern instead of panic.

“I’m… I-I-I’m sorry, but I-I have to…”
His fists closed tightly squeezing his eyes shut, inhaling through his teeth in a long, strained breath.

“…take care of you…”
He whispered it—so faint she almost missed.

Yeah murder isnt on this fellows "want to do list" clearly. Wonder if he'll pull a huntsman and bail on the hit. Though i wonder why humans are on the "to off" list as a whole...

“What? What do you mean?”
Her pulse spiked.
“No… you can’t mean—”
It took a step forward.
“W-wait! What did I ever do to you!?”
Her back pressed against the ground as she scrambled away.
Another one.
“STOP! Don’t come any closer!”
He hesitated.
“I don’t even know you!”

“I-I-I’m so sorry…”

He stepped forward anyway, trembling just as much as she was.

“If I don’t do this…"

Silence.

"...t-they’ll be mad at me.”

Yeah hope our p.o.v. can master oriatation and persuasive speach very very fast. Or she's going to (at best) be taking a very unwanted swim with the magikarp.

Interested opening to your tale. Thanks for sharing, and welcome aboard.
 
Chapter 3: The Sentinel’s Guide

dwey

feeling the sunshine
Location
A place.
Pronouns
He/Him
Branchy Cage - 1F

The word "confused" wouldn't do justice to Charmeleon's face.

Everything stopped—the shouts, the roars, and the frenzy of the chase—when they disappeared into the black mist. The only thing she could feel was Gallade's hand pulling her even deeper into that space.

For a moment, she thought they would never get out.

But after a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, they finally emerged on the other side. However, what lay beyond bore no resemblance to the forest they had been in before.

Those leafy, yet still relatively spaced, trees had vanished. What replaced them could only be described as claustrophobic.

Thick trunks, barely separated from one another, surrounded them on both sides, forming a kind of chamber. In the center, where they stood, there were no trees, but roots sprouted from the ground, covering much of the earth in such an irregular pattern that it would be easy to stumble if one didn't watch where one was walking. The branches overlapped and spread so far that they covered the entire sky above their heads, filled with leaves and white flowers whose petals fell continuously, adorning the ground and allowing only a few rays of moonlight to filter through. The only other source of light was her flame, which again looked pathetic.

And the strangest thing, there was no wind at all. Nothing to make the petals fall, and yet they did.

(What was that?) Between breaths, she was barely able to observe her new surroundings. (We… teleport?)

Looking back there was no longer any mist or anything that might suggest an entrance to the distorted territory.

(No, It's like the whole forest swallowed us…)

"Looks like we made it" Gallade voice snapped her out of her thoughts "The outside ferals usually know better than to enter dungeons, so we should be safe for now"

Looking down at her, he gave her another warm smile, surely with the intention of calming her down.

“Well I said safe, but dungeons are anything but" He said with a light chuckle "don't worry though I have experience with this places"

Charmeleon could only stare back. Exhaustion overwhelmed her completely. The pain had returned with a vengeance, and despite her efforts to stay alert, her body cried out for rest; it felt heavy, distant, almost lethargic. She could lie down right there and fall asleep. The ground didn't even seem so uncomfortable... and the faint crackling of the flame on her tail was almost comforting.

She began to sink into the earth, ready to give up, until hands on her shoulders caught her.

"Ah—hey. You don’t look too good" Gallade said gently. He kept one hand on her shoulder while the other reached behind him toward a large pack she hadn’t noticed before—something like a mountaineering bag. He rummaged inside, then placed a small round berry into her paw.

"Here. Take this. It should help with the worst of the pain."

She stared at the berry for a second longer than she should have. Trusting anyone felt… reckless. Still, her body was screaming, and the Gallade was watching her with that calm, steady gaze.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" he added gently, almost teasing. "I promise it isn’t spoiled—if that’s what you’re worried about."

Without thinking much more, Charmeleon obeyed. Once in her mouth, the taste seemed sweet, but not cloying. Pleasant, she decided, but she was still confused as to why it had been offered to her. After all, she couldn't recall having such a potent effect.

That was when she realized nearly all the pain had vanished. Looking at herself over, she saw the scratches and cuts were gone as well. And—oh!—her flame had sprung back to life, burning with a vigor and health she had never seen before.

(Look at you!) She couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. (I can’t believe how much better I feel just seeing it.)

The fatigue was still there, but a small victory was still a victory.

"Feels good, doesn’t it?"

When she looked back at her savior, she was finally able to study him in detail now that she was no longer on the verge of collapse.

From a distance, Gallade looked unbreakable — tall and composed (her now short stature probably helped to convey this as well), his stance carved from discipline. A true specimen of his kind — to some, even a symbol of justice and nobility.

But up close, the details told a different story: the faint slump of his shoulders, the stiffness in its movements, the tired shadows under his deep black eyes. The kind of weariness you only earn by holding the line for too long.

He didn't look too old, but he wasn't young either.

Around his neck was a white scarf, and on his back was the backpack he'd used earlier.

Quite a sight. What was he?

"It would’ve been a bit problematic if you’d fainted right here" he said in a playful tone that still carried a calm steadiness. "I mean—you could’ve started a fire with that tail of yours."

There was no reproach in his voice. If anything, it sounded like harmless small talk — maybe an attempt to coax her into speaking as well.

Still… could she really trust this stranger?

Maybe she was being paranoid. But after what had just happened — after someone had attacked her, nearly killed her, for no reason other than that she was human — who wouldn’t be?

"Hey… are you okay?" Gallade said again, his voice soft with concern.

"I promise I won’t hurt you."

The words were soft — careful — as if he knew how fragile she felt.

She wanted to believe him.

But trust had teeth.

"O–ok" she whispered at last. The word trembled out of her, thin as smoke.

She would have to be careful what she said, lest she reveal her secret.

Gallade looked pleased with her answer and finally allowed himself to look away from her, turning his attention to the rest of the room.

"We should start moving" he said. "Stay behind me and don’t wander off, okay?"

"Uh—yeah. Um… thanks, Gallade?"

"Um? Oh! I didn’t introduce myself, did I?" He rubbed the back of his head, almost sheepishly.

"My name is Theron" he said, giving a practiced half–bow. "Sentinel, member of the High Peaks Guild, at your service."

She blinked.

"Oh. You have a name?"

The question sounded stupid the second it left her mouth. Her tail flame dimmed a fraction.

"Um… yeah?" he replied, puzzled. While heading toward what she thought was the back wall—until she noticed the narrow passage hidden among the cursed trees. It was barely wider than a single Pokémon.

"Right. Sorry. Forget it." she muttered, trying not to brush against the trees lest she caused a disaster.

"Right…" Theron said, keeping his eyes fixed ahead.

With the space so tight and Theron so tall, she could only follow directly behind him, trusting that he really did know what he was doing.

They finally emerged from the cramped corridor into another chamber almost identical to the last—only slightly larger, with two new passages yawning open on opposite sides. Now that Charmeleon was calmer, she realized how little attention she’d been paying to her surroundings.

"I’ve told you my name" Theron said, pausing as if weighing which path to take. "Maybe you could tell me yours?"

"I—uh…"

How was she supposed to answer that? She had to sound confident. If she didn’t, he’d start to suspect something was wrong.

"Or you don’t have to" he added quickly, before she could speak. "Don’t worry. But I do need to know what you were doing in the middle of Shimmering Forest."

"Ah—well—I…"
(Say something. Anything!)

"How did you find me?"
(Wow. Smooth.)

She just needed a moment to collect her thoughts. To invent a convincing lie. Easy… right?

Theron gave her a look that said he saw straight through her attempt to dodge the question—but he still answered.

"I saw you charging into the trees like a crazy mon, straight toward the entrance to the Branchy Cage dungeon—this dungeon. Your flame was kind of hard to miss in the middle of the night," he explained.

(Dungeon? That’s what they call this place?)

"The area is heavily discouraged to travel. It’s too dangerous to go alone. Especially at night. And judging by the state you were in, the locals gave you a rough time."

His tone shifted—firm, but not unkind—as he moved toward the left passage, pausing just long enough to wait for her answer.

"Oh. I see."

"I’ll hear your explanation later. For now, we need to get out of here."

As they walked down the corridor, something in the distance flickered to life—a small light. It immediately reminded her of the other Charmeleon, and panic nearly gripped her. But no… this light was far less intense than fire. More lights soon joined it—behind the trees, farther away, and even above the branches. Tiny, scattered, almost geometric for a moment.

Along with the petals and tangled branches, they enclosed the path on all sides. The name of this place suddenly felt appropriate: a cage, lit by strange floating lights.

Everything was so… mystical. She was sure that wherever she came from, places like this couldn’t exist. At least—that was the impression she had.

They reached the end of the corridor and stepped into another room. Theron sighed.

"Of course it couldn’t be that easy."

"What?"

Theron shifted aside so she could see the source of his displeasure. Near the far end of the room, a Pokémon blocked the only exit. A Volbeat—she recognized it a moment later. It had its back turned, unaware of them.

"Another Pokémon?"

"No? A feral," Theron corrected, puzzled by the question. "And if it sees us, it won’t let us pass."

He lowered into a ready stance, blades raised.

"If even one spots us, it’ll call the swarm with its light."

(Wait. Light? You don’t mean…)

"You mean all these other lights?" she whispered.

"Ferals. Yes."

(There have to be hundreds…)

"We have the element of surprise. Let’s use it to our advantage."

In a heartbeat, the Gallade moved—so fast he could’ve been using Quick Attack. In moments, he was behind the Volbeat. Without hesitation, he swung his arm-blades and struck. The feral let out a low growl—then collapsed.

Theron seemed satisfied and gestured for her to come closer.

(What!)

The efficiency stunned her. How could he move like that while carrying such a heavy pack?

(Even if he’s a Pokémon, that fight was over before it even started!)

"Hey, Charmeleon?"

Maybe he meant it politely, but being called only by her species stung in a way she couldn’t quite name.

"Uh—yeah. Sorry. I’m going."

(Guess I should get used to being called that…)

When she reached his side, she finally got a clear look at the Volbeat. The gash across its back—though brutal—didn’t look fatal. Its wings were nearly severed, likely useless now, but its chest still rose and fell in ragged breaths.

"Was… was that really necessary?"

Such brutality…

"I’m afraid so. I had to make sure he couldn’t call his companions. Remember?"

(Yes, but perhaps you could have been a little gentler.)

She looked again at the fallen Volbeat, white petals already beginning to gather around it. Its eyes were dull, greyish—just like the others that had attacked her.

(Except that other Charmeleon…)

"You’ve never been inside a dungeon, have you?"

"Huh? How did you—"

"I’m a Gallade. I can sense emotions better than most. And all this time, I’ve felt your confusion and fear,” he said calmly. “Am I wrong?"

(Well… if that’s true, there’s no point denying it.)

"No… you’re not. I’ve never been anywhere like this."

She only hoped that was the only conclusion he reached.

"You’re not the only one who’s tried to stay as far away from these places as possible" he continued, stretching slightly. "I’ve known plenty of mons over the years—too scared, too weak, or simply unprepared to face these labyrinths."

More Pokemon. Still no mention of any humans.

"And the world keeps getting more dangerous, doesn’t it? Makes everyone more cautious—and rightly so."

His faint smile didn’t quite hide the exhaustion in his eyes.

He gestured forward. Time to continue.

A new crossroads awaited them at the end of the passage; this time Theron chose the right. As they walked, the lights illuminated the path, casting multiple shadows in multiple directions. She almost tripped over a branch she hadn't noticed beneath the petals. How long would they be here?

A new room, however, this one was completely empty, except for a stone staircase that stood in the center and reached above the accidental roof.

"What is that?" Of all the things she had seen so far, this vision seemed almost amusing because of how strange it was.

"Hmm, That's what will take us to the next floor." Theron said, with one hand under his chin, thinking about something.

"The next floor?"

Thanon responded with an amused look

"I found it a bit weird that you don't know anything about this places, but alas, it would be irresponsible of me to make you venture further into this dungeon without at least some common knowledge"

He offered her his hand

"Lets continue and along the way I'll explain things to you"


Branchy Cage - 2F

When they went up the stairs, she expected to rise above the branches and see the night sky. But the moment they surfaced… nothing had changed. The trees were still there. It made no sense; the ground was the same bare earth, the same roots and scattered petals—although these were now yellow. Not the sky she had imagined.

When she turned back, the stairs were gone.

"Yes, as you can see, mystery dungeons can be quite disconcerting. Don’t worry—you get used to it quickly" Theron said, amused by the horrified look on her face.

"What!? Is this normal? How—"

Theron cleared his throat to get her attention—and her silence—then adopted a clearer tone.

"First things first. As you might know, mystery dungeons are places that defy the rules of space and physics. As you can see, they take elements from the environment in which they were formed and distort them in ways that shouldn’t be possible, creating something completely new—a space that could only be described as a kind of labyrinth."

With this new information, Charmeleon couldn’t help but look around. It was true: the trees appeared to be the same type as the ones in the forest before, but she never would have guessed they were supposed to be the same.

"Trying to memorize the layout of any mystery dungeon is futile" he continued. "They change the arrangement of their rooms every so often."

"How are they able to do that?"

"No one truly knows. There are some theories, but none with real evidence. Mystery dungeons are ancient—perhaps as old as the world itself. For most of us, they’re simply another part of life."

"And as such, we use them to our advantage. In dungeons you can find objects otherwise difficult—next to impossible—to come across. The Oran Berry I gave you is one of them."

She had almost forgotten about it. But… weren’t Oran Berries supposed to be able to grow almost anywhere? She was almost certain. Maybe the ones that came from mystery dungeons had stronger healing properties? She was sure the ones she remembered didn’t work quite the same.

That, too, was strange. She’d been ignoring it, but now that she thought about it, she could remember the names of Pokémon, of items—even what they were and what they were supposed to do—but nothing about her own life. Nothing about herself.

A thought for later. There were other questions that needed answers.

"How do you get out?"

“You need to complete the mystery dungeon,” said Theron, making air quotes with his fingers. "Complete in the sense that you must travel through the entire dungeon until the very end—reaching the final floor."

With the basics explained, they resumed walking, Theron once again taking the lead.

The corridors seemed endless, and Charmeleon couldn’t help but wonder just how vast these places really were. How could the inhabitants of this world coexist with something so bizarre?

Wait. The inhabitants…

"What happened to the other Pokémon? Both the ones inside the dungeon and the ones outside seemed…" Charmeleon began, hoping the question wouldn’t sound suspiciously obvious.

"Ferals," Theron reminded her again. "But you’re right—this brings me to the next lesson. Mystery dungeons are incredibly dangerous if you go in unprepared. Not only is it easy to get disoriented and lost, but their altered geography creates… complications. What you saw back there is one of those consequences. When dungeons form, they swallow everything in their path—ferals included. What you saw was a wild beast completely corrupted by the distortion. Its mind has been affected and reduced to its most basic instincts. The strongest of those: survival and defense of territory."

They arrived in another room. He paused at the center of it before continuing.

"It’s even known that if a Pokémon spends too much time inside a mystery dungeon, the distortion eventually reaches them as well. Their mind changes—and they become a beast forever."

How awful. She could never imagine losing herself like that.

(No… I’d rather die than let that happen.)

Well, she was already lost; she didn't need to think about those things right now.

"Wait—you said ferals are like that because they’re inside a mystery dungeon. What about the ones from the forest?"

At that, Theron lowered his gaze, as if weighed down by the thought.

"That’s another reason the world is so dangerous today. Years ago, the only ferals anyone had to worry about were the ones inside dungeons. The ones outside were more tame and didn't cause much problem. But that changed. Slowly, the ones outside began to grow just as aggressive."

The Gallade looked at her, concerned.

"I can understand not knowing about the dungeons" he said "but the state of the world? The ferals running rampant outside? These are things everyone knows. How is it possible that you don’t?"

Charmeleon flinched, of course her ignorance would be detrimental.

Before she could even attempt to answer, a deep rumble shook the ground.

"Careful, something's not right" Theron had immediately adopted a battle stance; he had felt it too.

The rumble got louder, as in coming closer. It was coming from beneath her—

She didn’t have time to react.

A creature burst out of the earth and hurled itself at her, clamping its jaws just below her neck. If not for her scales, its fangs might have pierced straight into her chest. Even so, the pain was blinding.

Charmeleon cried out and staggered backward under the force of the impact. Her back struck the exposed roots on the ground.

Instinct took over. Grabbing both sides of the creature’s head, she tore it free in one desperate motion. Even as it writhed and snapped at her, she recognized it—a Grubbin.

With a snarl, she flung it aside. The Grubbin slammed into a tree and slumped to the ground, dazed.

She looked to Theron for help—only to find him already locked in battle. A Kricketune and a Pinsir had engaged him, forcing him back.

The Kricketune’s arms glowed with sharp energy—Slash, she realized—and it lunged. A flurry of cutting blows sliced through the air, but Theron slipped past them with practiced ease.

That was when the Pinsir struck.

Seizing the moment, it lowered its bladed horns and charged at full speed. Theron—focused on the Kricketune—had his back turned.

"Theron, watch out!"

Charmeleon tried once more to summon that warmth inside her, the fire she’d called upon before—but nothing came. She barely understood it the first time; now, it refused to answer.

Without even looking, Theron avoided the Kricketune’s final slash. The bug screeched in fury—

And Theron flipped.

A clean, controlled backflip carried him high into the air. The arc was high enough that the Pinsir thundered past where he’d been standing…

…and ran straight through the Kricketune.

The sound was awful.

The Kricketune’s body split cleanly in two, blood and organs spilling freely across the forest floor. The Pinsir turned, not heeding its horns which were now slick and dripping red all the way to its head, and fixed its furious gaze on Theron.

(How… How horrible!) She couldn't help but let out a small yip of terror. The sight made her sick. She felt like vomiting, but forced herself not to.

Never, ever, had she imagined that Pokémon could be harmed in that way.

The noise of the fight must have carried. An Ariados descended from the canopy on a thread of silk, and another Grubbin erupted from the ground nearby.

Despite being outnumbered, Theron didn’t appear nervous. Instead, he glanced at her.

"Don’t worry about me, Charmeleon. I’ll be fine. You should be more concerned about your opponent."

Her opponent?

Charmeleon scrambled back to her feet and followed his gaze. The first Grubbin had already recovered from its daze.

(It’s fine.)

The flame on her tail burned brighter as adrenaline surged through her.

(It’s just a stupid bug.)

The Grubbin clicked its jaws in a harsh, unsettling rhythm and advanced.

She still couldn’t call her fire.

Unsure what else to do, Charmeleon raised her fists and guarded her face.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. She waited for the Grubbin to leap like before, ready to intercept it and end this quickly.

That was her mistake.

Instead of lunging, the Grubbin burrowed halfway back into the earth—then resurfaced and spat a spray of mud straight at her. It struck her full in the face, blinding her.

Disoriented and wiping desperately at her eyes, she almost didn't see the next attack coming.

It lunged at her again, this time going straight for her head. She barely managed to lift an arm in front of her face. The Grubbin seized the opening and clamped down, its jaws sinking deep into her forearm.

This time her scales weren’t enough. Some blood trickled down her arm.

A cry tore from her throat as she thrashed, trying to shake it loose. Panic surged—then something darker rose with it. From somewhere deep inside, a raw, primal fury stirred. The flame at the tip of her tail flared brighter than ever, heat pulsing through her whole being until all that remained was irritation—rage.

Then the thought came to her, simple and savage:

Fight fire with fire.

She yanked her arm up to her face. The Grubbin writhed and snapped, still trying to overpower her.

Pathetic. How dare it attack her?

Her jaws opened on instinct.

And she bit down.

Her sharp teeth sank into the Bug-type’s body. The Grubbin shrieked and released her at once. She didn’t let go. With a sharp jerk of her head, she flung it across the room. It hit the floor hard and slid to a stop. This time, it didn’t get back up—only lay there, gasping.

The rage ebbed as quickly as it had come, leaving only shock in its place.

(Did… did I do that?)

For a heartbeat everything had gone red. All she’d wanted was to crush that stupid bug—

And now, seeing it sprawled there—beaten, helpless—another feeling crept in.

Pleasure.

(I’m… I’m a Charmeleon.)

The flame on her tail shrank back to normal.

(Do I… actually enjoy fighting?)

The feeling left her bewildered; that wasn't her, was it? She could barely bear to see the Krickenet being split in two, but now?

From the other side of the room, another sound reached her.

It was Theron; he had defeated the Ariados, which now was trying to crawl away. And with that, there were no more opponents in sight.

Both the Pinsir and the Grubbin were also defeated, with energy—marked cuts across their bodies. However, they were still alive.

Unlike her, Theron didn't seem to have lost his composure. In fact, he remained calm, although his breathing was slightly labored from the effort. It was as if he had done this thousands of times.

"Ah. It appears we walked into a monster house." He spoke as he surveyed the fallen Pokémon, his gaze lingering on the Kricketune. Its body still lay in two, though the blood had stopped flowing some time ago. His expression tightened for a moment—then softened as he turned back to Charmeleon.

"To be honest, I’ve never seen a Fire-type struggle this much against a Bug-type."

Even now, he managed a teasing remark.

He tilted his head. "I’d expect better from someone in the Char line. Aren’t you born fighters?"

Holding her injured arm, she glanced away. There was no way to explain that.

Theron approached with the same calm smile — as if they hadn’t been fighting for their lives moments before.

Well… he hadn’t, at least.

"I can't ignore it much longer. I need to know what's wrong with you, so I can help you." He reached into his backpack and pulled out another Oran Berry. "Here. Regain your strength."

She accepted it — but the knot of unease inside her tightened.

He already suspected something was off. And she’d failed completely to hide it.

No lie would work. Besides, wasn't he a psychic type? Couldn't he have been reading her mind all this time?

If he found out… What would he do?

"Come on. We’re lucky the Volbeat and Illumise haven’t noticed us."

"How is that possible? The lights are everywhere" she said, scanning the surroundings. At any moment, she expected an entire swarm to descend upon them.

"We’ll probably only alert the swarm if another of their kind calls to them. Apparently they ignore the noises of other creatures" Theron replied.

After eating the Oran Berry—and watching the wound on her arm close quickly—the two resumed their journey. Before leaving, Theron cast one last look at the battlefield. Charmeleon did too, but only briefly, before forcing herself to move on.

When she asked whether he needed a berry as well, he simply replied that it wasn’t necessary.

In the next few rooms, they encountered another pair of ferals—two more Grubbin and a lone Cascoon.

Theron dispatched them quickly.

Finally, they found the stairs, and without delay, they climbed them.

(Please… let this be over)


Branchy Cage - 3F

“W—we’re still in this damn labyrinth!?”

It was too much. The Pokémon trying to kill her. The monsters warped by the dungeon. This place that refused to make sense.

She just wanted out — out of the trees, out of the petals, out of all of it — just one moment to breathe without fear snapping at her heels.

"Ah, don’t worry," Theron said, his tone calm, almost reassuring. "I’ve never been in this dungeon myself, but it’s documented to be no longer than three floors."

(Documented? No. Don’t ask. You’ll only make yourself look worse.)

They crossed the same stage for what seemed like the thousandth time. The petals were red now, but did it matter? They were just decorations for the hell that was this place.

This time they crossed paths with an Illumise, who came within seconds of alerting the entire pack. If it weren't for Theron and his speed, they would have been harassed by hundreds of oversized fireflies.

(Until our death…)

Any other emotions besides tiredness and irritation that remained in her vanished. Her feet ached, arms felt heavy, and the damned flame behind her wouldn't stop hissing.

Theron occasionally turned to study her. More than likely, he was aware of her emotions. It's not as if one can be subtle when you have such a clear indicator of your mental state following you everywhere. Even so, he maintained his smile, which, to her dismay, did help her carry on a little.

More cursed Grubin attacked them. This place was infested with them, waiting to pounce at the slightest provocation. She got so fed up that she gave one of them, which was trying to surprise her from behind, a powerful kick, sending it flying over the branches and disappearing into the night sky.

She was about to scream when they entered a dead-end room, but Gallade stopped her, making a bad joke about how her temper was like fire: "Both heat up your head, but one leaves you with ashes and the other... emotional ashes!" It was so bad that her discontent vanished. Instead, she tried to decide if he was an idiot or a really good person for his own sake.

Finally, the stairs. It was a sight that could make her cry, perhaps she did, if just a little. Never, I repeat, never would she enter any of these places.

Not under any circumstances.



Yeah, definitely.

Branchy Crown

They stepped out of the dungeon’s warped paths and into the open forest—trees, spaced apart again at last.

But the light that touched them was thin and cold, washing the world in pale blue. Every branch looked sharpened into a claw, some tangling together overhead to form crowns of thorns. Roots curled across the ground like coiled serpents, as if they might tighten the moment you stepped too close. A faint breeze finally drifted through the clearing, yet the air still felt heavy—haunted by trees that had grown too long without sunlight, bending toward each other in a crooked crown.

For a heartbeat, it didn’t feel like they had left the dungeon at all—only wandered into a place pretending to be the outside world, wearing the forest like a mask.

But behind them…

The black fog churned in the distance. That meant they were on the other side of the distortion.

They were out.

Supporting herself on her knees, Charmeleon drew in slow, shaky breaths—the first fresh air she’d felt in what seemed like hours.

"Hey, are you good to continue? We still have to worry about the outside ferals — especially in a place like this, remember?"

Checking her, he added a bit mockingly, "I won't have to carry you, will I?"

"Just—just give me a moment."

Cradle Valley - Rural road

They left the tangle of trees behind and followed a clearer path that wound its way through the open highlands. There, she finally saw the night sky. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of stars illuminated it. A sight she hadn't had the chance to observe before because of her other worries. A beautiful sight.

The same mountains from before rose around them, but now she was no longer standing in the heart of the valley cradled between them — she was much closer to one of the slopes. In the distance she could see the river slicing through the valley floor, the place where she’d first awakened… though from here she couldn’t tell exactly where. Nor could she spot the dungeon’s entrance anymore.

Somehow, they had crossed all that distance from inside the dungeon.

As if mystery dungeons weren’t strange enough already.

"Some dungeons distort space even more — if that makes any sense," Theron said, perhaps sensing her confusion. "You see, some of them also act as shortcuts between points in the outside world. The dungeon we were in functioned as a small shortcut to the highest peak in the area."

Here, the world finally felt wider — freer. The grass rolled in uneven waves over the slopes, broken only by scattered rocks and patches of scrub clinging stubbornly to the soil. Ahead, the ground rose steadily toward a wall of mountains, their dark ridges crowned with streaks of lingering snow that gleamed under the daylight.

The trail was narrow but unmistakable, carved into the hillside by countless steps before theirs. It led forward, always forward, guiding them toward the distant peak. The air was thinner here, sharper in her lungs — yet strangely refreshing. For the first time since entering the dungeon, the danger felt… distant. Still there, somewhere behind them — but no longer pressing at their backs.

Here, the world simply waited.

"Ah, I think this is a good place to stop. The area is wide enough that we’ll spot any danger before it reaches us" Theron said as he sat on a large rock by the roadside. He smiled and motioned for her to join him. "Besides, I think we’ve earned a rest, eh? And… I’d like to hear your story, Charmeleon."

The moment she had dreaded finally arrived.

Charmeleon sat at the opposite end of the rock, trying desperately to think of something to say… but nothing came.

"If it’s too difficult to explain," Theron continued gently "I could always review your memories. I’m not the best with my psychic powers, but I doubt it would be a problem."

That was far worse.
What if he discovered she was human?

But this Pokémon had saved her. He had given her food. Stayed by her side. Protected her.
He didn’t seem like the kind who would hurt anyone. And he was a Sentinel, wasn’t he? That had to mean something.

(…Maybe he really can help me. Maybe my memories are still inside somewhere.)

It was a huge risk. But if she couldn’t trust him… then who could she ever trust?

"Okay," she whispered.

"Great. I promise it won’t hurt. It may tickle a little, though."

He placed both hands on her head, closed his eyes, and went quiet.

A strange sensation followed—like an invisible hand pushing slowly into her mind. Uncomfortable, but not painful. She stayed still, afraid that moving might somehow break the process.

Theron frowned. Charmeleon could only imagine what he was seeing. A while passed—probably the entire disaster in the forest, her awakening, the attack… and then his expression shifted into confusion.

"I don’t understand…" He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Before today, there are no memories. Nothing."

Nothing.
He had found nothing.

"What do you mean?" she asked, though a sinking feeling already curled in her chest.

"I didn’t go too deep. I didn’t want to intrude. But I did see that someone attacked you shortly after you woke up—when you knew nothing."

(At least you didn’t see the human side of things…)

She almost laughed at the bitter thought. But it didn’t help. Because if there were no memories…

What was she?

Despair tightened around her chest. Would she ever recover them? Would anything ever go back to normal?

She was incomplete—a nobody trapped inside a body that wasn’t hers. In a world she didn’t understand. With no way home—wherever home even was.

Was anyone looking for her?
Did she have a family? Friends?
Did they miss her?

A shaky breath escaped her.

(No… calm down. You’ll go back. You have to.)

She hugged herself, whispering the promise in her mind like a lifeline.

(I’ll go back. I’ll reach home. I will reach it—)

The flame on her tail flared, mirroring the panic rising inside her.

"I’m sorry, Charmeleon" Theron said softly. "I didn’t mean to upset you. What happened to you is… truly bizarre. I’ve never heard of anything like it."

He hesitated—then brightened slightly, as if an idea had formed.

"But if it helps… you could come back with me to the Guild."

"The Guild?"

She’d heard him mention it earlier, but hadn’t dared ask.

"Ah—right. You wouldn’t know. It’s a place where Sentinels—Pokémon like me—help maintain order in the region."

(Pokémon… so they do have a society. But still no mention of humans…)

(A world made only for Pokémon.)

"They are meant to help anyone who needs it. So I don’t see why they wouldn’t help you too."

What other choice did she have?
Leaving him meant being alone again.
And he was the only one who had ever offered his help.

Why had he, anyway? Risking his life for a stranger… that wasn’t normal. Only the kindest—and most selfless—people did that.

"You sure? I wouldn’t want to trouble you."

"Nonsense. I was heading back there anyway."

(Then… it’s decided.)

Maybe—just maybe—she’d find something there. Something to hold on to.

"That would be great. Thank you so much, Theron."

"Don’t even mention it," he said with the warmest smile she had ever seen.

Dawn was breaking when he finally stood.

"It’s been a long day, hasn’t it? Well—more like night, haha."

Charmeleon rose and walked beside him. "How far is the Guild?"

"Not far away, I promise. In fact, there's someone there I want you to meet; perhaps you can help each other."

That made her a little uneasy—but if Theron trusted them, it was probably fine… right?

"Oh—and about your name" he added thoughtfully. "It would be strange to keep calling you Charmeleon. Everyone has a name. Have you thought of one?"

He was right. Being called only by her species stung more than she could explain.
But a name… that felt big. Permanent.

She hummed softly, thinking.

"I could help," Theron said with a playful grin. "I’m very good with names."

"Oh? Well—go ahead."

"All right, so I was thinking—"




Notes: Happy late christmas and happy new year you all!
 

Namohysip

Dragon Enthusiast
Staff
Partners
  1. flygon
  2. charizard
  3. milotic
  4. zoroark-soda
  5. sceptile
  6. marowak
  7. jirachi
  8. meganium
  9. namo-rock
  10. haxorus
Whoa! It's been SO LONG since I got to see another Charmander-line PMD main! That's something to look forward to.

Anyway, hi! I'm here as part of Review Blitz, and I'll be taking a look at everything published here so far! The first two chapters are small, but the third seems to be pretty big, so I wonder what changed from the first two to this one. But, for now, some commentary scene by scene:

Waking up covered in bruises, no memory of what happened prior save for the idea that she was not supposed to be a Charmeleon, in the middle of a great valley, one foot already in the grave. I think you did a good job of showing the atmosphere and vibe during the first half of the first chapter, though there was a bit of passive voice when it was not necessary.

As an example, any time you have "one could tell" or "one could see," you could probably convert that to what our main character directly perceives, keeping us directly in her headspace at all times. It can be more immersive that way.

And then it seems that we have a new twist... another Charmeleon! Though this one is a bit more hostile, despite the nervousness. Seemed unhappy to be doing what he was about to do, but more importantly, it seemed like the "first person you meet" is not immediately a partner, but someone sent to kill her. Certainly not a good start for her...

You shift between "he" and "it" for the pronouns of the new Charmeleon. Stick with one, either "it" until specified, or "he" to stay consistent.

Out of the pan and into the fire, she flees into the forest and runs into the problems of the wilds. I half expected the Charmeleon to get second thoughts and become the partner that way, but she just outright runs off and loses him! At this point, the story can go anywhere...

And in comes Gallade, the one who can save her! Though there's an obvious question of why he's here in the first place--although that later gets answered, looking back at my notes, that he happened to see her during what must have been a routine patrol. The other mystery is the voice that managed to get Charmeleon to resist in the first place and barely escape. In hindsight, once again returning from my initial notes, is that Gallade did not appear to perceive this voice in those memories, despite presumably those being a highlight in what she had gone through.

And oh! A Ditto! I guess it was too much of a coincidence to have two of the same species, so a Ditto makes up for it. But a shape-shifting creature that is trying to hunt the human down... talk about paranoia. She'll have to get strong fast.

We also have some hints about lore. It seems that this world suddenly lost its resources due to some kind of cold snap, rendering Wild Pokemon desperate and societies rapidly losing food, but there is also apparently some kind of paradise they are striving for, all to make sure the human is dealt with, and apparently that would earn them paradise... interesting, and very good setup.

Oh, and as an aside, you don't need to strive for huge chapters and things like that. Do what seems like the best pacing. So far, I think this has been serving you well.

Ah, it seems we have another setting that has a "Dungeon Madness" effect if someone spends too long in it. I admittedly agree with Charmeleon's first impressions on how society would operate with something like that and regularly go into them, unless that effect takes days or you'd have to be truly foolish to fall for that sort of thing. It's always a world-building quirk that I see implemented with less care, so I'm quite aware of those pitfalls when presented as part of the opening sequence and fic blurb.

Wow, talk about a fake-out. There seemed to be noticeable restraint in seeing any sort of blood or true carnage up until now, but then a feral gets cleaved in two, viscera and all! It was surprising after the way things had been set up prior.

But they finally make their way through, and after a brief respite, they share some memories... or lack thereof. It seems that much of what Charmeleon used to be was sealed completely. That's some powerful amnesia. But there must certainly still be something there, as she had to have gained that innate knowledge somewhere beyond just instincts. But that is a mystery for later. For now, she's in the clear, and the "human secret" is being kept...

These three chapters were very effective at establishing tone and stakes, but still leaving ample mystery to explore. There are clear goals, but since you are just starting out, here's some advice for you: be very careful once you get to the guild. Many, many PMD stories lose their pacing by spending too much time exploring the guild and meandering around like the games do. Remember that this is NOT a video game -- you don't need to write out all the filler that happens. Focus more on the characters and the plot, and not grinding the pacing to a halt to go over all of the setting at once. Prioritize what's important to show, and what can be summarized. And good luck going forward!
 

Negrek

Ignis Aurum Probat
Staff
Premium
I totally missed that you posted a third chapter! It was fun to see the first mystery dungeon here. One of my favorite aspects of mystery dungeons is how weird they can get, the sorts of fantastical environments that can exist there that don't anywhere else. And Branchy Cage is a lot of fun in that respect! I appreciated the peaceful but eerie atmosphere of a place where petals drift continuously from the sky and passageways are defined by walls of twisted, interlocking thorn branches. Also, the whole place is lit by ethereal multicolored lights that might swarm in to kill you at any time. Great aesthetic.

This chapter primarily felt like stage-setting to me: we learn about dungeon mechanics, vaguely what's going on with the world, and a little more about what's up with Charmeleon. This is pretty typical PMD stuff, and where I chafe a bit at the typical structure of the genre; I've seen these beats enough times before that I'm most excited to get past them and on into what makes the author's story unique. We've gotten to see a bit of this already, and I wonder whether the ditto is going to expect Charmeleon to show up at the Guild and will head there to intercept her. I'm guessing that the person Theron wants her to meet is going to be her partner, and I'm curious to see whether they're at all like the standard PMD partner or not.

This is also clearly a much more brutal world than the one we see in the PMD games. I'm excited to see a bit of what civilization looks like here, with the Guild; how has it adapted to these more dangerous circumstances?

I do wonder what Theron was doing way the heck out in what seems to be the middle of nowhere, and why he so cheerfully abandons it in order to help Charmeleon out. He seems nice enough, but I imagine he has secrets of his own.

One thing you might want to work on is dialogue punctuation. Generally speaking, when you have a sentence of spoken dialogue, you include punctuation like you would for a normal sentence. So here:

"Looks like we made it" Gallade voice snapped her out of her thoughts "The outside ferals usually know better than to enter dungeons, so we should be safe for now"

you'd include periods at the end of sentences in dialogue, same as you would for narration.

"Looks like we made it." Gallade's voice snapped her out of her thoughts "The outside ferals usually know better than to enter dungeons, so we should be safe for now."

When you have dialogue followed by a description of how it's being said ("he said," "she shouted," "they whined"), the dialogue ends with a comma, and the first letter after is lowercased. So here:

“Well I said safe, but dungeons are anything but" He said with a light chuckle "don't worry though I have experience with this places"

you'd punctuate it like this:

“Well I said safe, but dungeons are anything but," he said with a light chuckle. "Don't worry though I have experience with this places."

And a minor note:

Both the Pinsir and the Grubbin were also defeated, with energy—marked cuts across their bodies.
Here, "energy-marked" is punctuated with an em dash (—). Any time you're joining words like this, you instead want to use the shorter hyphen. So energy-marked, sky-high, all-in, etc.

Nice work putting out three chapters in quick succession! I hope you'll be able to keep up with the writing in 2026, too.
 
Chapter 4: Where the Mountain Bleeds

dwey

feeling the sunshine
Location
A place.
Pronouns
He/Him
The sunrise was beautiful, she decided.

She slowed to a stop — partly to catch her breath, partly just to exist for a moment. Orange, pink, and gold spilled across the sky, setting the clouds ablaze even behind the immense mountains, until they glowed like embers drifting over the world. It was the most beautiful sight she had seen since waking up here.

And yet, beneath that calm, her thoughts churned.

Now that Theron knew about her amnesia. She saw no harm in asking him to teach her everything he could about the world. She needed to know more. What if there were humans in this world? He accepted, according to him, this also help as "so you don’t raise suspicions or get yourself into trouble." But there was more behind his words — she could feel it. Sometimes, while checking whether she remembered what they’d discussed, he seemed almost as nervous as she was, despite the usually serene expression on his face.

Maybe it was just exhaustion. Theron had admitted he hadn’t slept in an entire day, and that he’d been rushing back to the guild before stumbling across her. Even so… something was weighing on him. And she was certain it had something to do with her.

Despite her own worries, she forced herself to pay attention. In the little time they had — Theron insisted they shouldn’t delay reaching the guild any longer than necessary — he had taught her the names of important places but little else. Surface-level knowledge, though enough to avoid looking completely lost.

It wasn't the information she'd actually been expecting. None of the names sounded familiar or triggered any memories, so her disappointment quickly overshadowed her initial eagerness to learn.

"Hey, Alba?"

She almost ignored the call, until she remembered that was her new name.

"Hmm?"

"Are you still getting used to the name? If you don’t like it, we can always change it."

After a whole list of suggestions, Alba had ended up as the final choice. It wasn’t the most impressive name in the world, but it wasn’t the worst, either. Theron had proposed a few that sounded more like jokes than anything else: Redie and Fangs, for example. (He did insist they were real names. Although, she didn't know whether to take it seriously.)

Alba was… normal. Simple. Safe.

And, with any luck, only temporary — a name to use until she recovered her real one. Because of that, it didn’t feel like hers. It was just a placeholder. Something to wear for now.

She reminded herself of that. She wouldn’t forget.

"No, it's fine. Definitely better than the others."

"Still upset about my suggestions?" Theron chuckled. "They were very nice names."

"What kind of name is Scales?"

"A very descriptive one."

"A very dumb one."

He laughed. "Alright, alright. I admit it. I’m not as good with names as I thought."

"I’d already noticed. Where did you come up with Alba anyway?"

“Well… it sounded appropriate.” He slowed slightly. “We’re close to Stonevein now.”

According to Theron, Stonevein their destination was a small village tucked against the mountain range remote, isolated, and built around the guild that watched over the region. Alba found that strange. The climb alone made it feel anything but convenient.

They had been ascending for a while now. The air grew thinner, colder. Even Theron shivered from time to time, his breath visible in the dim light. If she hadn’t been… this, she was certain she’d be suffering too.

"The sun should be coming up soon," Alba said. "That should help with the cold, right?"

Theron hesitated.

"You’d think so, but… it doesn’t really work like that anymore."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"How about we review the basics again?"

"Again?" She shot him a look. "What happened to getting there as soon as possible?"

"I think I can make an exception,” he said calmly. “You already have the map."

That was true. She sighed, then reached for the rolled parchment in her paw.

Handling things was still awkward, claws instead of fingers, fewer joints means less dexterity. Not to mention how much she missed having two extra fingers. She missed her hands. After some effort, she unrolled the map, holding it with both arms to keep it from snapping shut.

The contents were beautiful, she would admit that. A detailed depiction of the continent stretched across the parchment, full of mountains, dotted with names and markings. Notes lined the edges, some faded with age, others clearly recent. All of them, Theron said, were his.

She would love to read them, to learn more than Theron's vague descriptions of each place, to see if there was even the slightest hint of humanity, but... she couldn't. The language was completely foreign to her; runes more than words, really.

Theron took pity on her, because, of course, that was just how he was. And promised he would find a way to help her learn the language. At that moment she wanted to scream. Because she knew, she knew something. She was sure of it. A language. A way of reading the world that had been ripped away along with everything else.

But she said nothing.

"Very well, as before, point out the main places I mentioned to you." Theron said as he got to her side looking at the map just as she was.

With a small groan, Alba began. "We’re on the continent of Lunea… under the nation of Solyderia. We’re in Cradle Valley, part of the Inner Domain of Mevar—"

She hesitated, squinting at the map. "—between these mountain ranges. And Stonevein is the main settlement here. Right?"

"Exactly, very good"

All these names suggested a more advanced level of organization as a civilization than she had initially expected. Although where they were located, that wasn't really reflected. Everything seemed really natural.

"Yes. I know, we've already checked it dozens of times." Alba said as she handed the map back to Theron, who put it in his backpack.

"I thought you were the one who wanted to know as much about the world as possible."

"Yes, but more than just names. I don't really know what this guild of yours looks like yet."

"Everything in its own time. Listen… you don’t mind if I ask you again, do you?"

"About what?"

“You know. Your situation.” His voice softened. “I want to help you, Alba, you can be sure of that. But as you can imagine, not everyone is going to believe you.”

"Why not?"

"Alba… I already told you. These days, folks are suspicious of everything. An amnesiac could easily be mistaken for someone unstable or a fraud trying to trick others or worse. You’d only draw attention. I know we haven’t had much time to go over the basics, but you’ll have to trust me on this, alright?"

From the way he spoke, it was clear that not everyone was as kind as he was.
And honestly… that worked in her favor. The fewer people, Pokemon, who knew about the emptiness in her mind, the better.

"Well… as you know, I woke up yesterday on a riverbank with no memory of what happened. I wandered around looking for help, but the only one I found was a lunatic who attacked me. When I escaped, I ended up in the forest where you found me."

"A lunatic?" Theron murmured. "I did see him in your memories, briefly. He was a Charmeleon too, which is strange. That night, all I managed to glimpse was a distant light. I assumed it was yours."

"Oh, really? Well, you must’ve missed him, because he was very real," Alba said, rubbing the side of her neck where she could still feel phantom pressure.

"I wasn’t doubting you," Theron said quickly. "Either way… I’m glad I found you. Lost like that… nobody deserves it."

"Yeah… thank you."

They continued climbing higher and higher along the mountain path. For a moment, Alba worried they were actually heading for the summit, but Theron assured her that wasn’t the case.

Even so, their conversation lingered in her thoughts.

Who was that other Charmeleon?
Why had he attacked her just for being human?
Would she ever see him again?

…Would she even recognize him?

She didn’t want to grow paranoid, didn’t want to bolt every time she saw someone of her own species. But she barely knew anything about this world, let alone how to tell individuals apart. And there was a worse possibility.

What if he wasn’t the only one who hated humans?

What if, the moment anyone found out what she really was… they hunted her?

The thoughts twisted tighter and tighter in her chest. None of this helped. For now, distance was the only comfort she had — distance from the river, from the forest, and especially from him.

The rest… she’d worry about later.

"Ah, we’re finally here."

When the words reached her ears, she couldn’t help but feel something — excitement? Maybe. They had been walking for so long that even the thought of a new place felt like a gift. Or perhaps it was simply curiosity. So far, she had only met two sentient Pokémon in this world. What would a whole town look like? How did they live?

Theron’s brief descriptions had only fed the questions swirling in her mind.

So when they finally reached the crest of the path, Alba lifted her gaze and the town revealed itself.

A mining settlement carved directly into the bones of the mountain.

Small houses — or what looked small from that distance — clung stubbornly to the dark slopes like pale stones scattered by a giant’s hand. They stacked over one another in crooked terraces, rising higher and higher until they nearly brushed the snowline. Countless windows glimmered faintly in the early light, tiny reflections like trapped stars, while warmer lantern-light flickered between them in pockets of amber.

Behind it all towered the mountains: vast, brutal walls of ice and rock streaked with white, their frozen peaks catching the last cold breath of dawn. The contrast was almost unreal — harsh nature looming above, and below it, a fragile cluster of life refusing to yield.

“Welcome to Stonevein, Alba. Where the mountain bleeds ore, and we bleed with it.”

Stonevein.

The outskirts were far less orderly than the view from above had suggested. Small houses — closer to huts, really — were scattered across the rocky slope, thrown together from rough wood that looked painfully thin against the biting cold. Some stood half-finished or broken, with planks missing from their frames, abandoned by whoever once lived there. The buildings followed no pattern, claiming whatever ground they could.

Lanterns burned quietly in the doorways despite the early hour, candles glowing like tiny hearts against the gray morning. The ground underfoot was uneven and bare, never paved, worn only by countless passing feet.

But the closer they walked toward the town’s center, the more the chaos began to shape itself into something like order.

Where they now passed — what Theron said was the main district — rows of houses, still built from the same flimsy materials, finally formed something like a proper street. It led straight toward a larger structure rising at the village’s center: the guildhall.

Other buildings didn’t resemble houses at all, but shop stalls — or what passed for them here — with long wooden counters set beneath patched roofs of cloth and scrap metal. Many stood half-empty. A few lonely items were laid out for display: chipped tools, worn satchels, cracked pottery, bundles of dry herbs tied together with fraying string. Supplies that looked as though they had already been used once, then salvaged and sold again.

And yet, despite all this, there were barely any customers.

Most stalls were closed, the few open either had no one tending them, only a stool waiting behind the counter, as if the owner had given up hope of a sale hours ago and wandered off. Or were manned by tired-looking Pokémon staring blankly at the path, their expressions dulled by long days of waiting.

The shelves weren’t just sparse — they felt resigned.

Like the town itself had learned not to expect much.

Alba paused beside a stall that seemed to be selling children’s toys, if they could truly be called that. Little figures carved from stone sat in uneven rows, rough and lopsided, as though they had begun life as practice pieces and been polished just enough to pass for goods.

The vendor, a Golem, watched the street with dull, tired eyes. He looked as worn as the carvings themselves.

A heaviness settled over her chest.

(This must be the most depressing place imaginable to settle down.)

“Oh, come on, don’t make that face.”
Theron’s tone was light, but the sigh that followed wasn’t. “The place has its charm. It’s just that…”

He didn’t finish. Maybe he didn’t have the heart to.

“Come on. You need to introduce yourself to the guild. And don’t forget what we practiced, okay?”

She nodded, and they continued toward the center of the village.

The path opened into a circular plaza and here, at last, the town felt alive. Dozens of Pokémon were gathering for the workday: Drilbur and Excadrill with dust already clinging to their claws, Rolycoly rumbling quietly as they moved in small clusters. Their voices didn’t carry the bright rhythm of morning chatter; they spoke like people who had long since accepted that the day would not be kind to them.

Others stood out simply by presence alone. An Incineroar with arms folded across his chest, a Rhydon whose stare felt like a weight both alongside some others wore similar scarfs as Theron though with different colors. When they noticed Theron, most of them offered him a brief nod. He returned each greeting with that calm, steady ease of his.

Alba, on the other hand, was not greeted.

She was measured and then filed away as an unknown.

She tried not to shrink beneath the attention.

At the heart of the plaza stood the guildhall — impossible to mistake for anything else. The biggest building in town, set apart from the flimsy structures around it, sat upon a raised stone foundation. Its brick-and-mortar walls looked sturdy, almost severe, and a thin trail of black smoke curled from a small chimney in the roof. It had clearly been built to endure the mountain’s cruelty.

Why hadn’t the rest of the town been built the same way?

"After you," Theron said, offering her one of his calm smiles.

Not wanting to delay any longer, Alba climbed the stone steps to the entrance. With some effort, she pushed open the heavy double doors.

They opened with a low, resonant groan.

Inside, the guildhall felt… vast.

The ceiling rose higher than she expected, supported by thick wooden beams darkened by age and smoke. There were no windows; stone walls enclosed the space on all sides, bare save for a few banners and notice boards pinned with overlapping sheets of parchment — requests, warnings, assignments. The scent of ash, oil, and old wood lingered in the air.

A wide central hall stretched ahead of them, its wooden floor worn smooth by countless footsteps. A long counter stood to one side, built from heavy timber reinforced with iron. Behind it, a Shuckle worked in silence, sorting papers beneath the glow of a dim lantern.

There were others, scattered through the hall. A pair speaking in hushed tones near the stairway, another resting against a pillar. The emptiness made the room feel heavier than if it had been crowded.

"This is the High Peaks Guild," Theron said quietly, as if raising his voice would be disrespectful. "You’re lucky, later in the day it gets much more crowded."

Her gaze drifted upward, to a second level that ran along the walls like a balcony, lined with closed doors and railings. Offices, perhaps. All of them shut.

"Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to talk to someone quickly."

"What? You never mentioned that." Alba said, her voice tight.

This wasn’t what they had planned. The plan was simple: introduce herself to the guildmaster, ask about lodging, and then — with Theron’s help — figure out what the hell was going on with her memories. Being left alone here wasn’t part of it. What if someone spoke to her? She hadn’t practiced for that.

"I promise I’ll be quick," Theron said. "Why don’t you sit over there and rest a little? I know you must be tired."

"But—"

"I won’t be long. Try not to burn the building down, okay?"

Before she could insist, Theron was already walking away, offering his characteristic smile now with a thumbs-up.

(Really? Just like that?)

With few other options, Alba headed toward a small waiting area filled with wooden chairs. She chose one and sat down, carefully holding her tail in her hands.

She didn’t trust it to behave.

Despite her worries about being left alone, Alba couldn’t stop a yawn from slipping out. Theron was right — she was exhausted. Her body was only now catching up with everything she had forced it through: running for her life, fighting, walking for hours without rest. A whole day (or night) of that usually has that effect on people.

Still, she couldn’t sleep. Not here. Not surrounded by strangers.

She didn’t trust any of these people.

(Pokémon — they’re Pokémon,) she reminded herself, gripping her tail tighter, as if that alone could keep her anchored.

The seconds dragged on.

Her eyelids grew heavy. Her vision blurred at the edges, the hall losing its sharpness. At some point, she noticed her tail drooping, the flame dimming to a lazy flicker. She startled and slapped herself, the sting snapping her back. A few heads turned.

(Oh great. Now they think you’re crazy.)

She let out a slow breath and sank deeper into the chair. With her small legs, she couldn't even reach the ground. The wood felt warmer than before. Safer. Her thoughts no longer stayed where she put them, slipping away as soon as she tried to hold onto one.

(Just for a moment) she told herself.

(Just to rest I will close my eyes for a couple of minutes and then become attentive again...)

Her head tipped forward.

The sounds of the guildhall faded, the weight in her body growing heavier until she couldn’t fight it anymore. The flame on her tail flickered once… and steadied into a low, quiet burn.

Alba fell asleep.

...

...

...

Alba blinked.

Or at least, she thought she did.

Nothing changed.

Darkness stretched endlessly before her, the same absolute black she remembered from before. No depth. No horizon. Just void.

(What… what is this?)

She tried to look around, but there was nothing to look at. Blackness folded into itself, offering no direction, no sense of distance. She couldn’t feel the ground beneath her feet — or her feet at all. No weight. No warmth. No breath.

She wasn’t floating.

She simply… wasn’t.

Panic flickered, brief and sharp. She tried to speak, to call out, to scream into the emptiness.

Nothing.

No sound left her. No echo returned.

(It’s like I’m not really here.)

She waited for it.

The voice.

That strange presence she had felt before — the one that spoke as if it knew her, as if it had always been there.

But the void remained silent.

(This time… there’s nothing.)

A thought surfaced, slow and uncertain.

(Wasn’t I at the guild?)

Fragments followed — the weight of exhaustion, the warmth of fire, a chair far too uncomfortable to sleep in…

(Oh.)

(I fell asleep.)

Her realization settled uneasily.

(Is this a dream…?)

Something stirred far away.

At first, it was nothing more than a pinprick — a single, fragile spark trembling in the distance. So faint she almost believed she had imagined it.

Her attention locked onto it.

She wanted to move toward it.

She couldn’t.

Before frustration could take hold, the spark flared.

Then—

It exploded.

Light burst outward in every direction, tearing through the void in a silent, blinding surge. Thousands — no, countless points of light followed, scattering like stars being born, carving space out of nothingness.

The darkness was gone.

Replaced by a vast, endless expanse — a sky filled with distant fires, swirling colors, and unknowable depth.

The sudden brilliance forced Alba to shut her eyes, or whatever she had now.

There was no sound. No heat.

Just creation unfolding in perfect, terrifying silence.

Then a presence stirred within the stars.

Not a shape neither a body.

Just awareness.

"Isn’t it beautiful?"

The voice came softly, almost hesitant, as if afraid of breaking the silence it had helped create. The words didn’t echo. They settled, weaving themselves into the space around her.

"This is how it should be," the voice continued, a little steadier now. "Thousands of stars. Thousands of worlds. All separate… yet connected."

Something about it felt wrong. Despite the magnitude of the moment, the voice didn't sound imposing. Now that she thought about it, it sounded exactly like before, soft… young.

"This is how he conceived it," the voice said with reverence. "In his wisdom, he shaped something beautiful. Something meant to be shared."

The stars pulsed faintly, as if in agreement.

Only then did Alba realize that the voice wasn’t distant.

It was close.

"I’m sorry," it added suddenly. The words tumble out. "I should have spoken sooner. I wanted to, I really did, but… they’re watching. Always watching. Waiting for me to make a mistake."

Somehow, Alba swore that the voice was taking a breath.

"I’m still learning."

A short pause, then he said something more quietly.

"I’m… glad you’re okay."

The stars shifted again, subtly, like something leaning closer.

"Alba," the voice said, testing the name. "That’s right, isn’t it?"

Her name rang through the void in a way nothing else had.

"It’s a very pretty name," it added, warmth creeping into its tone. "I think it suits you."

"I… I’m sorry," the voice said suddenly. The warmth it carried faltered. "I never meant for things to turn out like this."

That bringed her thoughts to a halt.

(What?)

"I should have brought you here without consequences," the voice rushed on, words overlapping, fraying at the edges. "I really thought I could. But your memories—"

The stars flickered.

"I’m so sorry, Alba."

Something shifted. A pressure so strong that the vastness around them rippled, as if space itself had been disturbed by an unseen current.

"No—" the voice stammered. "No, wait—!"

The stars dimmed, their light stretching thin, pulled away from her.

"You must have so many questions," the voice said quickly now, fear bleeding through. "And I know I should explain everything, I should, but—"

Another wave. Stronger.

"I need your help," it said, almost pleading. "And I hate that I’m asking this of you. We don’t have much time."

The space began to fracture, constellations tearing apart like glass under strain.

"No! Stop—!" the voice cried. "They can’t—!"

Then, softer. Desperate.

"Alba… I have to go."

The light around her collapsed inward, spiraling.

"I’ll contact you again," the voice promised. "When I can. I swear. Until then—"

The void cracked open.

"—take care of yourself, okay? I trust you."

(Wait—!)

Her thoughts scattered as the space folded in on itself.

(What do you mean? Did you do this to me—?!)

The stars imploded.

(Answer me!)

Darkness rushed in.

"No!"

Alba gasped.

Air burned into her lungs as weight returned all at once, the pull of gravity, the ache in her limbs, the steady heat of her tail flame flaring in alarm. The cosmos was gone.

She was back in the guildhall.

She stood frozen, heart hammering, as dozens of eyes turned toward her. Pokémon that weren't there before whispered among themselves, their expressions uneasy, confused — some wary. Her sudden shout had drawn attention she hadn’t meant to attract.

(It wasn’t a dream… was it?)

Her gaze swept the room until it found him. Theron, a brief surge of relief flickered, but then she hesitated instantly. He wasn't alone. Beside him stood a Grovyle slightly taller than her, arms crossed. His expression was slighty tight, his dark eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her scales somehow prickle.

Judging her.

The way his gaze lingered: on her hunched posture, her disheveled state, the fact that she'd been sleeping in the middle of the guild.

(What the hell is his problem?)

Then she realized she'd been clutching her tail so tightly it was starting to hurt. Quickly noticing, she realised it so it hung lazily near the floor.

Both Theron and the stranger approached her.

"Alba," Theron said "Sorry for taking so long. As promised, I’m back."

"Theron…" She hesitated, glancing at the stranger. "Um… who is this?"

The Grovyle glanced at her once more before speaking.

"I asked him the same thing." He said, turning to Theron.

Her voice tried to sound calm, but there was a hint of uncertainty in it.

"Well, Alba," Theron said gently, stepping half a pace forward, "Remember the Pokémon I mentioned earlier? The one I wanted you to meet."

He gestured to the Grovyle.

"This is Rowan."

"Ah… right." She glanced between them, then scratched the back of her neck. "Hi. Um… couldn’t this have waited until after I introduced myself to the Guildmaster?"

Theron chuckled softly.

"Actually, now is better. It’d be awkward for teammates to meet after forming a team."

"Sorry— you said what?"



Notes: I actually love the obvious names people give Pokémon in games or fanfiction. It adds a really personal touch, in my opinion.

And now I have to dedicate some time to the spelling and structural errors that have been pointed out to me since the first chapter. Thank you so much as always. I hope you're having a good start to the year. Where I live it's unbearably hot, so I've been writing more at night than during the day, haha; it's easier to concentrate when it's cool.
 
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Chapter 5: On the matter of first impressions New

dwey

feeling the sunshine
Location
A place.
Pronouns
He/Him
What had he said?

She must have misheard. The fog of sleep still clung to her thoughts after all. Alba shook her head, forcing herself fully awake.

"Ah—sorry," she said. "I don’t think I heard you right. Can you repeat that last part?"

"I, uh… I said it might be awkward if you two only met after forming a team," Theron replied. His usual calm smile twisted, just slightly. "Actually… that's not possible. All members have to be present. Not to mention the signature and the-"

"Team?" Alba blinked. "Wait. What are you talking about?"

"A team of sentinels," he said. "Like me."

"Like—like you?" Her voice tightened. "What are you talking about? Weren’t we just here to ask for a place for me to stay? You never said anything about forming a team." The words came faster now, more nervous than before. Why was he bringing this up now?

"Well…" Theron hesitated. "I’ve been thinking about it. And I truly believe it would be better for you if you became a sentinel."

"What?!" Alba snapped. "But—I thought you brought me here for help, not to be drafted into some kind of recruitment!"

The flame on her tail flared, burning brighter than before. Small embers jumped from it, scorching the floor before dying out.

"I know," Theron said quickly, lowering his voice as he noticed others in the guildhall starting to look their way. "And I’m sorry I didn’t say so sooner. I was afraid you’d react badly to the idea."

"How was I supposed to react?!" she shot back.

"Alba, please," Theron said, holding up a hand. "Before you jump to any more conclusions, let me explain."

He waited until her eyes were on him, then demonstrated. A slow breath in. He held it for a moment—then let it out. After a brief hesitation, Alba copied him. The heat at her tail eased. The flame shrank, settling once more.

"…Fine," she muttered, clearly not eager to hear whatever came next.

"Alba," Theron began carefully, "you know your situation is… unusual. I meant what I said—you’ll find help here. In some ways, you already have." He paused. "But have you stopped to ask yourself what comes next?"

Alba frowned. (What comes next? What does that even mean? Of course I haven’t. I’m already busy worrying about being a walking torch.)

At least she still had limbs. She might have completely despaired if she had woken up as something like a Chandelure.

"Tell me," he continued, quieter now. "Have you thought about what you’ll do once your memories return? Or—" His voice hardened, just slightly. "—what happens if they don’t?"

Her chest tightened. (No... I haven't, because... I... wait a minute…)

"What are you talking about?" she said quickly, trying to steer the conversation away.

"Rowan already knows," Theron said.

"Y-you told him?" Alba’s voice sharpened. (You said that would only draw attention to me!) She nearly shouted the thought aloud. Her memories were something only she and Theron knew. What was he thinking? Wasn’t he supposed to be helping her?

"When I saw your memories," Theron went on calmly, "I saw how hard it was for you just to defend yourself against that other Charmeleon. Even against ferals inside the Branchy Cage, you struggled."

He met her eyes.

"That isn’t normal. Someone your age, of your species… even without memories, instinct alone should carry you further than that." He exhaled slowly. "These are dificult times, Alba. And I would sleep easier knowing you can protect yourself. That's something being on the sentinels can teach you."

Was that truly his reasoning? It didn’t feel like enough.

"But I don't want to fight." Alba stressed. "If I stay away from the dungeons, then I should be safe right? There wouldn't be any reason for me to learn."

In a populated center like this, she should be safe. And hadn’t Theron mentioned that many Pokémon avoided dungeons these days? It wouldn’t be unusual.

"And what happens if that Charmeleon returns?" Theron countered. "Would you be able to drive him off again?"

Her voice faltered.

"You’ll be there… right?" she asked. "You’ll help me."

"Do you honestly expect him to follow you everywhere?" Rowan cut in at last.

Alba turned sharply. The Grovyle looked genuinely confused, as if her question made no sense at all.

"Just to shield you from some petty criminal?"

"What’s it to you?" Alba snapped. "You. You told Theron this, right? You gave him this idea." She pointed at Rowan, claws trembling slightly. "Well, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but I’m not joining any team."

"Oh, please," Rowan replied dismissing her accusation, "This wasn't my idea. If anything, this is your doing."

"MY doing?"

"Yes. If you weren’t going around claiming to be some conveniently mysterious ‘amnesiac,’ none of this would be happening."

"Stop saying it like that!" Alba nearly shouted, instinctively glancing around to see if anyone was listening.

"Both of you, enough." Theron stepped between them.

He lowered himself so he was at eye level with Alba.

"Alba, this was no one’s decision but mine," he said calmly. "And being a sentry isn’t solely about combat. You would also have the chance to help others. There are responsibilities, yes, but there is also purpose."

He held her gaze.

"The fulfillment and reward that comes with it is… considerable." A faint softness entered his voice. "The same fulfillment I felt when I was able to help you. Wouldn’t you want that, Alba? To be capable of helping someone else?"

She didn’t answer. Because she didn’t want to help others. She wanted nothing to do with this world—with its beasts, its labyrinths that drove explorers mad. She wanted to go home.

"So this is what it is?" she said at last, her voice tight. "Payment? You helped me just so you could push me into this?"

"What?" Theron asked, genuinely surprised. "No. Alba, it's nothing like that." He took a deep breath. "Listen, I know what I said, but I won't be able to help you as much as I'd like."

"W-what do you mean? You said…"

"You see, the truth is I can't stay in Stonevein for long. They need me elsewhere. But if you're with Rowan, you won't be completely alone, will you? Besides, I won't be gone forever; I'll come back soon with a little more time on my hands." He said it to her so gently... in a tone that seemed almost paternalistic. "I'm really sorry I didn't tell you sooner, Alba. But I trust you'll be safe with Rowan. You don't have to like him. Not right away. Just… trust me when I say he’s more than he seems."

He hesitated, then asked quietly.

"What do you say, Alba?"

What was she supposed to say? That he had lied to her. On purpose. That good intention didn’t matter if he was still leaving. If Theron was gone… What would she do then? She would be alone again.

Afraid. Waiting for someone to notice her secret.

(T-there there has to be another way… Maybe… Maybe I can just convince Theron to take her wherever he is going. If that doesn't work, maybe I can just refuse and then…)

And then what? Find someone else to help her? Go somewhere else? She couldn't even read Theron's map. What made her think she'd survive there on her own?

(I don't... want this... please…)

The Sentinels. They had to face constant danger, right? Theron risked himself and then entered the dungeon intending to help her. If she joined them, she'd have to do that for strangers she didn't even know. For who knows how long.

(Theron risked himself… If he hadn't done it, I'd be dead, right?)

Alba raised her head and met his gaze. There was no malice in his eyes.

Maybe... joining the Sentinels could help her recover her memories somehow. Waiting for a voice that may not even exist didn't seem like a good plan. Besides, it could help her understand her body better. Learn to defend herself.

Perhaps it's something to do with her human mind, but the mere thought of fighting held her back. She no longer felt like she did in the dungeon facing that Grubbin. Still… What other choice did she have? Perhaps there was none.

"Ok…" Alba murmured at last. Resigned to the twists of fate that all seemed to be against her.

Another smile was directed at her. Although at that moment it seemed empty to her. "I promise this is for the best, Alba. You’ll see."

She didn’t answer.

"Now let's see the Guildmaster, shall we?"

Theron was already walking away when Rowan glanced at her.

"You know, for someone with amnesia, you snore a lot."

(Huh?)

"I think you should try to look more concerned, if you're going to continue with that act."

(Act?)

Rowan did not elaborate, but instead followed Gallade. The three of them crossed the hall in silence.

Dozens of eyes lingered on them. So staring at the floor suddenly felt more appealing. Alba was certain they must have made quite the spectacle. How much had they heard? She hoped that no one would approach her with questions.

Few offered her anything resembling warmth anyway. Most gazes were a mix of curiosity and indifference. She even caught a few muffled laughs. Rowan had said she’d been snoring, hadn’t he? Probably just to annoy her. Hopefully.

Why of all the Pokemon would Theron ask her to team up with him? Couldn’t she be a sentinel on her own? Theron seemed to manage just fine. Why couldn’t she?

(Well, I know why. But couldn't it have been anyone else?)

From the corner of her eye, she watched Rowan walk ahead with a determined stride, unbothered by the attention. He already knew about her amnesia. Even if he apparently didn't believe it.

(I better keep an eye on him, just in case he says too much.)

They stopped at the front counter. The Shuckle she had seen early stood behind it. Wearing a red scarf tied like a bandana on his right forelimb

The counter was high—too high for her—so Alba took a small step back to see over it properly. Theron leaned his forearms against the wood and greeted the Pokémon casually.

"Hey, Chuck. How’s Granny?"

The Shuckle didn’t look up, busy arranging papers and scribbling something down. Alba couldn’t help but stare. How did he even hold a pen with stubby limbs like that?

"Theron," he said flatly. "You’re late. Again."

His voice was calmer—more subdued—than Alba would’ve expected.

"Oh, come on," Theron replied lightly. "You know how it is. Time just slips away. Flies by."

"I can imagine," the Shuckle said, stamping a document, with a seal that was kept at easy reach before moving on to the next. "That’s why we gave you a watch."

"Ah… yes. Maybe you’d like to give me another one. The last one wasn’t exactly… explosion-proof."

"No." Another stampted. "You’ll be paying for that one out of your own pocket." He finally glanced up. "At least you still have your weather kit, right?"

"Of course," Theron replied easily. "Who do you take me for, Chuck?"

Chuck shook his head, a hint of reluctant amusement surfacing before he allowed himself the faintest smile. "You’re quite a character, that’s for sure." He then tilted his head slightly. "And what about those two?"

Chuck’s gaze shifted toward the pair of lizards waiting nearby.

"I’m taking them to Tilly," Theron said. "Assuming she’s not in a bad mood today."

"The hag is always in a bad mood," Chuck muttered, already returning to his paperwork. "She’s inside. Don’t keep her waiting any longer."

He gestured with a stubby limb toward a door on his right.

"Of course…" Theron sighed.

This time, it was Theron who reached for the handle. He opened the door and stepped aside, motioning for Rowan and Alba to enter. Rowan straightened at once. With a short nod, he went in first. Alba hesitated only a fraction of a second, then followed him inside.

The guild master’s office was relatively spacious, yet it still felt cramped. Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, each one packed tight with documents and loose pages stuffed wherever there was room. Some stacks leaned dangerously, as if one wrong move could bring the whole system down. A thick brown carpet covered most of the floor. Woven into it, in white thread, was the image of a comet streaking across the fabric. Alba made a mental note to be careful with the flammable material.

Paintings of various Pokémon hung unevenly along the walls. Judging by their stern expressions and formal poses, they were most likely important figures.

(There are all kinds... Wait, some of them are wearing clothes? There's an Umbreon with a top hat… is that Talonflame wearing a waistcoat? Why would a Flygon need a monocle? Why...?)

She didn’t have time to examine them all. As her attention shifted.

At the far end of the room stood a desk similar to Chuck’s, solid and worn from decades of use. On top of it sat… something. A small pink figure, oddly shaped, completely still.

Behind the desk, dominating the wall, was a massive painting depicting the continent itself, with a shape that vaguely resembled a slightly tilted crescent moon: its coastlines, endless mountain ranges, and the various rivers that crossed it, were carefully rendered. Unlike Theron’s maps, this one was pristine, free of notes or markings.

But what truly caught Alba’s attention the most was what rested beside the desk.

A hammer.

No—the hammer.

It was the most absurdly large tool Alba had ever seen. It appeared to be made from thick metal plates stacked atop one another with little concern for elegance or balance, held together by sheer stubbornness. Rust clung to its surface, giving it a dull, weathered look, tinged with green—no doubt a consequence of Stonevein’s brutal cold and constant exposure. The handle alone was taller than Alba, the head wide enough that it could have crushed nearly every creature she had encountered so far. What kind of monster would wield something like that?

"Hey, Granny, I’m back," Theron said as he closed the door behind them, forcing an upbeat tone.

Then the thing on the desk moved. What Alba had taken for a doll shifted slowly, until it lifted its head and fixed its gaze directly on Theron.

"I’m sorry for the delay," he continued quickly. "You see, I had a few things to take care of and—"

BANG.

Something slammed into the door with a violent crack of wood and metal. The sound echoed through the office. Alba gasped before she could stop herself. Even Rowan flinched.

Theron, however, merely sighed. He reached up and calmly pulled a chunk of metal from the door, embedded alarmingly close to where his face had been a moment earlier. The impact had left a deep gouge in the wood—one of several similar marks scattered across its surface.

"I told you not to call me that," came a raspy, aged iron-hard voice from behind the desk.

"Oh, come on, Tilly," Theron replied, unfazed as he examined the dent. "You know I mean it affectionately. Seriously, you haven’t had a sense of humor since I’ve known you."

Tilly, the guild master. Theron briefly mentioned it to Alba before. She was a Tinkaton. But for some reason Alba had forgotten until that moment her signature tool. Despite her small stature, there was no denying her commanding presence. With that hammer resting so close at hand, it would have been hard to argue otherwise. She radiated the unmistakable energy of someone whose authority was not open to debate—the do as I say, or I’ll crush your skull kind.

And yet, Theron treated her like an old acquaintance. Even though Alba was fairly certain Tilly had just tried to kill him moments ago.

…Maybe this was normal for them.

"And who are these two?" Tilly demanded, peering down at the pair. Her sharp eyes flicked over them in a single, measuring glance. "If you’re here to report a crime, you can do that outside with Chuck."

With her arms crossed behind her back, she began to pace along the surface of her desk. Each step echoed faintly against the wood. The movement brought her level with Theron—no, slightly above him—while allowing her to quite literally look down on everyone else in the room.

"Tilly," Theron said, unfazed, gesturing toward them. "These are Alba and Rowan. They’re here to form a sentry team."

Tilly frowned “Really?” She studied them for a long, uncomfortable second before releasing a slow, weary groan. "This again, Theron? If you ask me, the mines would make better use of them. We’re always short on workers."

"That won’t do," Theron replied evenly. "They’re sentry material. You can’t just assign them to the mines on a whim."

Tilly snorted softly. "What I see doesn’t impress me." Another heavy groan. "Fine. If you’re volunteering of your own free will, who am I to refuse?"

(If only...) Alba thought.

The Tinkaton looked… irritated. But it was hard to tell if that irritation was directed at them, at Theron, or at the world in general. Probably all of the above.

"If you’re really going to join, then get on with it," Tilly muttered. "I’ve got better things to do."

She disappeared beneath the desk for a moment. There was the sound of drawers being opened and closed, papers sliding against wood, something metallic clinking. Then she popped back up, holding a small stack of documents, squinting at them as she skimmed through the pages.

Perhaps she just hated paperwork.

Before either of them could step closer, Tilly raised a hand, stopping them both without even looking up. Another grunt escaped her.

"I’m supposed to ask why each of you wants to join," she said flatly. "Motivations, intentions, personal goals… blah, blah, blah." She rolled her wrist dismissively. "These days everything has to be written down, or the overseers crawl up my back about it."

She flexed her fingers, grimacing.

"If they’d just give me one of those machines from the capital—the ones that write twice as fast—maybe it wouldn’t be so hard on my poor fingers," she muttered.

(But then how would you even use something like that with a hammer?) Alba almost blurted out. (Wait. A machine?)

She took the piece of metal back from Theron and dropped it onto the papers with a dull thud. A paperweight.

"So be brief," Tilly continued. "I don’t really care about your reasons." Her eyes lifted, sharp despite the fatigue lining them. "As long as you do your job, follow orders, and don’t make my life harder than it already is."

"Now," she said, already sounding bored, "which one of you is talking first?"

"Guildmaster," Rowan began, straightening slightly. "I am the Grovyle known as Rowan. I wish to join the Sentinels to aid those in need. And—"

"Yeah, yeah. Adorable," Tilly cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Save it."

She squinted at him, eyes narrowing as she searched her memory.

"You came to Stonevein with Theron a couple of weeks ago, didn’t you? I’ve seen you lurking around the guild hall a few times."

Rowan blinked, caught off guard—but only for a moment. His expression quickly settled back into its usual calm.

"Honestly," Tilly went on, "I’ve no idea what you’re doing here. Anywhere else would’ve been better than this frozen backwater." She shrugged. "But like I said—I don’t care." She was already writing down something.

Her gaze shifted sharply.

"And you?" she said, turning to Alba. "I’ve never seen you around here before."

"From the capital?" Tilly snorted. "Nah. Probably from the countryside. Just look at you—didn’t they ever teach you how to stand up straight in front of your elders, young lady?"

Alba stiffened instantly, straightening her posture.

"I–I’m sorry, ma’am— I mean, Guildmaster."

"Hmph." Tilly tilted her head, studying her more closely. "Maybe not as young as I thought. About the same age as this green one."

Her eyes lingered on Alba for a moment longer than necessary.

"A strange accent," she muttered. "And… amber eyes."

Tilly stared at Alba for a few seconds—then shifted her gaze to Theron. A strange expression on her face. After that, she cleared her throat.

Oh. She was waiting for an answer.

(What should I say? I mean, I have no motivation or ambition to be here, other than to regain my memory and get out of here. But I obviously can't say that. Ah, I'm too far into this to back out. Just... just say something.)

"Alba. I mean, Charmeleon Alba, I mean known as Alba. Uh, same as him," Alba said, gesturing vaguely toward Rowan.

"Aha." Tilly didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press the issue either.

(Smooth sailing Alba.)

"Alright. That’s that." She waved a hand dismissively. "Congratulations, I suppose. You’re now part of the Sentinels." She slid a sheet of paper across the desk. "Just sign this little form here. It releases the guild—and the nation—from any responsibility. Injuries, illnesses, loss of limb, death, and all that other unpleasant nonsense. Blah, blah, blah." She snorted. "But you knew that already."

(D-Did I?) Alba thought. (Because I really don’t.)

She glanced at Theron. All she got in return was a calm, reassuring smile. Of course.

Rowan had already stepped forward. Without hesitation, he picked up a pen from Tilly and began writing his name in neat, flowing runes—symbols Alba couldn’t even begin to recognize.

Now all eyes were on her.

Rowan looked at her expectantly. She still didn’t know what to make of him. He said he wanted to help others, right? Well… right now, she felt like the one in need. And it wasn’t as if he seemed particularly concerned about her feelings either.

With an unsteady step, Alba approached the desk.

She took the pen from Rowan and immediately almost dropped it because of her claws. Quickly she pretended to read the document for a few seconds, nodding along as if she understood any of it. Then, carefully—clumsily—she drew a crude circle with a line through it and a point in the middle. The mark was uneven, shaky, and frankly looked like something a child might scribble.

But she'd seen the symbol on Theron's notes before, so she hoped it would count as a signature.

Tilly blinked. She stared at the mark. Then at Alba.

"…Huh." After a moment, she shrugged and stamped the paper anyway. A comet-shaped seal flared briefly against the ink before settling into place.

"Alright. Now get out of my sight," Tilly said as she handed Rowan a copy of the document. "Chuck will finish the paperwork and give you whatever you’re missing. And try not to die, okay? The equipment’s worth more than you are. Trust me."

Theron shot her a disapproving look, then turned back to the two of them.

"Congratulations to you both. Rowan, I know you’ve been waiting for this for a while. I think you can manage on your own from now on." He paused briefly. "I have a couple of things to discuss with Granny."

Tilly immediately raised the chunk of metal in her hand in a menacing gesture.

"Just let me know when you’re leaving, okay? I want to give you something" Theron added, completely ignoring the gremlin. Then he looked at Alba. "You’ll be fine. I promise."

"Yeah, yeah. I’ll take care of it," Rowan said.

Before Alba could react, Rowan grabbed her arm and hurriedly led her out of the room.

The last thing Alba saw before the door closed was Theron making a bad joke about Tilly’s height, and Tilly reaching for her hammer.

There was a sharp noise behind the door—wood creaking under strain.
Alba didn’t even notice. She was far too busy trying to convince herself that she hadn’t just signed her freedom away.

(Theron… Theron wouldn’t do this to me if he didn’t think it was for the best, right? Maybe it’s not so bad. Yesssss. Maybe it’s not as hard as I think. I just… I just have to—what do I even have to do?)

Was it still too late to run away and never look back? Judging by the way the Grovyle was firmly pulling her along toward the counter, it probably was.

"Ah. You two," Chuck said.

Most of the papers on the counter were already neatly sorted and stacked. Alba blinked in surprise. Who would’ve thought a Shuckle could work that fast?

Rowan handed him the copy of the document.

"Hm. I see," Chuck murmured after a quick glance. "So that’s what you were doing with Theron in there." He nodded to himself. "Well, it’s been a while since a new team joined. Give me a moment."

He climbed down from his high chair and began making his way toward a corner of the hall.

Slowly.

…Very slowly.

An awkward silence enveloped them.

Most of the Pokémon that had been there before were gone. Despite this, Alba counted at least two dozen Pokémon in the building, though she was sure there were a couple more when she woke up from her sleep.

The sight felt surreal. Living stone Pokémon chatted casually among themselves. An Ursaring argued loudly with a Lairon. A Clefairy laughed beside a Marowak, as if none of it were strange. Because to them, it wasn’t.

She noticed something. Everyone was in pairs of at least two. There were one or two groups of three Pokémon. But no one seemed to be on their own. Most gathered near the bulletin boards lining the walls, scanning papers before tearing a few down and heading out.

"Finally," said Rowan. "I thought I never´d make it."

The Grovyle stood there with a smile on his face, the first one Alba had ever seen from him, looking at the other teams with enthusiasm.

That expression only lasted a few seconds until he turned towards Alba. "And what's your deal anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know. Amnesia." His gaze sharpened slightly. "Why did Theron say you have it?"

"Because I do," Alba replied, frowning. "I really can’t remember anything."

"Aha."

He didn’t look convinced.

"Are you hiding from someone?" he continued. "Trying to protect your identity? Maybe you were an outlaw."

"What? No! I’m serious."

Rowan clicked his tongue softly. "Come on, seriously, you expect me to believe that?"

"Didn't Theron already explain it to you?" Alba asked, irritation creeping into her voice. The flame at the tip of her tail flickered unevenly. How could he dismiss her so easily?

"Theron asked me to team you up. He said he found you in the middle of the night, after some sort of confrontation. He helped you, and now he wants you to join the Sentinels, after learning you have amnesia. Don't you hear how ridiculous it sounds?"

"I…" Did it sound ridiculous? Maybe to someone else. But that was exactly what had happened.

"Theron is very strange, but he would never say something like that for no reason. Which means there’s more going on than what he told me."

Alba had nothing more to add, so Rowan simply sighed.

"Regardless," he said, straightening slightly, "we’re a team now. Whether this is an act or not."

Her jaw tightened at that.

"I’ve wanted to join the Sentinels for a long time," he continued. "So I won’t waste this chance."

He took a step closer "I’ll take the lead. You follow my instructions. That’s simple enough, isn’t it?"

Alba hesitated.

"I… suppose."

He glanced at her, sharp-eyed. "Good. Because you'd better not ruin this."

She narrowed her eyes "If I’m such a problem for you. Why didn't you team up with someone else? The guildmaster said you've been here a couple of weeks already."

"That’s not important," He simply shrugged, though a flicker of discomfort crossed his face.

Alba frowned. "Funny. It feels important to me."

"Theron trusts you," he said at last. "For some reason. That’s enough. For now."

The scrape of something being dragged across the floor cut through the tension between them. It was Chuck, returning at last, pushing a box along with considerable effort—using his head.

Alba stepped forward to help, earning a pleased hum from the Shuckle as she lifted the box and set it neatly on the desk.

"Very well," Chuck said, settling back into his seat. "This box contains your basic equipment. Come closer. I’ll explain how each item works."

Rowan was already there, opening it without hesitation.

Chuck leaned forward, peering inside. "First—your scarves. Very useful for enduring the cold, and one of the easiest ways to identify fellow sentinels."

Alba received a white scarf from Rowan, very similar to the one Theron wears.

(Is this all? No other clothes?)

The thought hadn’t occurred to her until now. She would have preferred something with a little more coverage. Shoes, at the very least. The mountain paths had not been kind to her feet.

Chuck paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "Be careful, though. Some like to pretend they’re one of us. These are made from the highest-quality Wooloo wool, so cheap imitations are easy to spot. Trust your tact."

He then gestured to a small piece of metal nestled in the box. Grey in color and circular in shape. It reminded her of some kind of medal. In the center it had the same image of the comet engraved in the metal as the one on the carpet in Tilly's office. And in the surroundings there were some inscriptions that Alba couldn't read again.

"That’s your sentinel badge. Forged in the capital itself, using top-grade metal. See the engravings?" He tapped them lightly. “‘Today, tomorrow, and forever’ You already know the motto.”

"They also help identify forgeries. Don’t try to sell it for a few easy coins. And don’t ‘lose’ it, either. If you do, we’ll know. Believe me—you wouldn’t be the first to try."

Alba accepted the badge. On the back, she discovered a small pin mechanism. After a brief hesitation, she fastened it to her scarf.

Next, he nudged a compact pack toward them.

"That’s your backpack. More spacious than it looks."

"Just one?" Alba asked.

It was much smaller than Theron’s, closer to a messenger bag than a full pack. Still, it had more compartments than she’d expected.

"Well, yes," Chuck replied. "If you ever find you need another, you may purchase one yourself. Though I doubt you’ll find anything of comparable quality here. That’s an official sentry pack after all."

Then he pointed to a roll of paper near the bottom of the box. A map of the continent, though this one was less detailed than the one he'd seen in Tilly's office. It was the same size as the one Theron had. After a quick glance, it was placed inside the bag.

Finally he took out a small metal case resting at the bottom of the box. Rowan received it carefully and flipped it open. Inside were two devices both metallic in appearance.

One was circular, fitted with a thin needle that hovered between engraved symbols. The other was rectangular, its surface framed with markings beside what appeared to be a narrow compartment filled with clear liquid.

They were small enough to hold comfortably, one in each hand. Or paw.

They had something... familiar about them.

"And finally… that's your weather kit," Chuck said. "Never—never—go out on sentry duty without it. I know it’s not winter yet, but that’s never stopped storms from appearing without warning." He sighed "They’re absurdly expensive. The privileged in the capital tax us for every single one we order. So if you lose it—or any of this equipment, for that matter—you’ll be replacing it with your own wages. Not ours."

Rowan closed the case and slid it neatly into the backpack. Then he handed the bag to Alba. Reluctantly, Making her promise not to touch anything without his permission

She slipped it over her shoulder. With only a single strap, it sat more like a sling bag than a proper pack, resting diagonally across her torso.

Chuck leaned back, apparently satisfied.

"And that should be everything. Equipment-wise. Now, to finalize the registration… Who will be the leader?"

"I will," Rowan said.

"Oh? Really?"

"Is there a problem?"

"No, no," Chuck replied smoothly. "I just assumed the Fire type would take the role." His gaze flicked briefly to Alba. "Rowan and Alba. Right? Ok."

Chuck scribbled something down.

"Alright… and the team name?"

"Oh, a team name?" Alba blinked. "We can call ourselves whatever we want?"

"Yes. Just make sure it’s not too long." Chuck tilted his head slightly, faintly puzzled. The question seemed obvious to him.

"Oh. Okay, okay." Alba let out a small laugh. “I thought you’d assign us something. You know."
She turned to Rowan. "Any ideas?"

"I already had a name in mind."

"Oh." Her shoulders dropped slightly. "I see."

It figured. She wouldn’t even get a say in this.

Rowan paused. He glanced at the Charmeleon, who was now staring at the floor. He hesitated for a moment. Then he sighed.

"…But perhaps we should discuss it."

"Really?" Alba’s head snapped up. Her mood shifted instantly. "Okay! What about… LeafyFire? Or Ignition? Or—oh! Combustion?" She tilted her head. "Ah… maybe Theron isn’t the only one who struggles with names."

"Very focused on fire," the Grovyle noted, a hint of impatience in his tone. "It’s a bit one-sided, don’t you think?"

"Eh, I guess so." She tapped her chin. "How about something with smoke?"

"Because you intend to burn me eventually?" Rowan replied dryly.

"No—! I mean—" (Hopefully not.) "Uh… Smokeveil, Ashwind…"

Rowan sighed.

"You know what? I think I'll go with my original idea. Before we’re still here at dusk." He turned to Chuck. "Team Highridge."

"Very well. And…" With exaggerated ceremony, Chuck lifted the seal as high as he could manage before bringing it down with a firm stamp. "There! You are officially Team Highridge, members of the High Peaks Guild… and, consequently, Sentinels of Solyderia."

Alba felt a little disappointed that she hadn't managed to get more involvement with the name.

"Huhuhu," Chuck chuckled, his usual composure giving way to visible excitement. "It has been quite some time since anyone joined the guild. Forgive me. This is my favorite part of the job."

"Oh—no problem," Alba said politely.

She wasn’t sure what was so exciting about it. All she felt was anxiety. They still hadn’t properly explained what being a sentry actually meant. She could piece together an idea from Theron’s words and actions—and that idea did not exactly inspire joy in her.

"What about our residence?" Rowan asked, absently turning his badge between his two fingers.

"Oh, yes. You may choose any available shack within town limits. Once you’ve decided, inform me, and I will update the census."

"What?" Alba blinked. "What about the rooms upstairs?" She pointed toward the upper floor she had noticed the moment she entered.

"Oh, those? Certainly. If you’re willing to pay one thousand coins per night."

"What?! Why so much?" Alba didn’t know whether that was expensive—but it certainly sounded like it.

"The lodging, the mining operations, and the sentinels themselves—if you include them—are the only economic activities Stonevein possesses. If we granted rooms freely to every registered team, we would soon lack the funds required to pay the capital."

"Ah… ok."

(Well. The houses didn’t look that bad. I can handle the cold. Probably. I just hope the beds are decent.)

Despite having slept a little earlier, she still felt exhausted.

"Alright. No more questions? No?" Chuck looked between them. "Then just remember to prepare yourselves properly for any location or dungeon you enter. Handle any feral creatures you encounter. And please, do not do anything foolish while wearing the uniform."

He gestured toward the scarves now wrapped around their necks.

"If you insist on doing something stupid, at least have the courtesy to remove them first. The common folk already doubt us enough as it is."

(People, er, Pokemon doubt us? Why? Aren’t the Sentinels supposed to help?)

Before she could voice the question, Rowan had already taken her lightly by the arm and steered her toward the bulletin board along the wall.

"Oh, almost forgot." Chuck’s voice stopped them mid-step. "There was no meeting this morning. But that was just an exception. Be punctual tomorrow, unless you want the Guildmaster to despise you immediately."

(No. Definitely not. That hammer…)

Rowan gave a brief nod in acknowledgment.

He dismissed them with a flick of his limb and returned to his paperwork as if nothing had happened.

The Guild was nearly empty now. Only a Munchlax and a Shelgon remained, lounging in the chairs where Alba had previously fallen asleep. They spoke in hushed tones, both wearing gray scarves. The Munchlax carried a backpack so overstuffed it looked ready to burst.

Every so often, they glanced in Alba’s direction.

"Hey. Focus."

"S-sorry."

The bulletin boards covered nearly an entire wall of the guild hall. They were packed with papers—layered over one another, edges curling, corners pinned atop older notices. Even though every team supposedly took at least one assignment, the boards still was overcrowded. Some sheets were stacked so thickly it was impossible to see what lay beneath. Not that Alba would have been able to read them anyway.

What caught her attention were the drawings. Rough sketches of berries, apples and other common objects. Simple maps. But mostly… Faces. Dozens of them. Pokémon stared out from fading ink and yellowed paper.

"Who are all of these?" she asked quietly.

"You don't know?"

"No…"

"Right. The amnesia thing," he said flatly. "These are all the Pokemon who have gone missing in the vicinity. We´re supposed to remember their faces in case we came across them, or what's left of them"

"W-what?"

"Well. Not all of them are missing cases. There are some outlaws, too. But, ah. The other teams have already beaten us to it. There aren't many left, and the pay isn't the best. If someone hadn’t let you sleep half the morning away, we might’ve secured one." The comment was clearly aimed at Theron.

"What you said before, do you mean most of these Pokemon are missing?"

"Why, yes. What? Is that too hard to follow?"

"Why are there so many?"

"Because there are more and more feral creatures roaming outside the dungeons and crime is also rampant." He said. "Not to mention the capital nor the captain doesn't really care much about what happens so far to the east."

He studied the board. "Seriusly, could you drop the act? Is getting really annoying."

After a few moments of deliberation he finally settled on a piece of paper that didn't have a drawing on them. Leaving the other papers to continue to collect dust.

"Eh, this will have to do. I was hoping for a better job on the first day, but oh well."

"Were going already?"

"No, we have to wait for Theron. But in the meantime, you can tell me what you are capable of"

Rowan walked over to the heavy entrance doors and pushed them open with some effort. Immediately, a breeze came in that seemed to bother Rowan, but for Alba it was nothing more than a little air. Apparently, the lack of windows in the building and the thick door were intended to keep out the cold.

"What I'm capable of?"

"Yeah, you know, what moves you know and all that. A good team works well in sync, and that starts with knowing your teammate. Theron's words, not mine."

They descended the steps and stopped in the plaza below.

Stonevien was stirring to life. The lanterns that had illuminated porches and storefronts were now extinguished in favor of the pale daylight. Pokémon moved through the streets, though many passed by shops that looked depressingly empty either of customers or anything worth buying.

A rumbling sound echoed down the road. A line of wooden carts creaked past, pulled by Pokémon like Gogoat and Mudsdale. The carts carried coal and fractured stone. Among the load, a couple of Carkol rolled lazily, embers glowing faintly beneath their rocky shells.

Alba tilted her head upward. The sun hung in a clear sky, yet its light felt thin—more decorative than warming. It failed to soften the chill in the air. Smaller Pokémon struggled against it. A family of Maushold huddled tightly together, while a pair of Pachirisu wore thick fabric wraps like makeshift ponchos.

High above, a lone Pidgey cut across the sky.

"So seeing as you won't talk much, I have no other option but to jump straight into the fight part."

He continued to dismiss her situation. Was it really so hard to believe? Maybe it was because he didn't have psychic powers like Theron. She should be relieved. If he didn't believe her, then she was safe. So why did it hurt?

Maybe it's because she actually wants to talk to someone about this. She wants someone to help her understand, make sense of the emptiness in her head, to support her. So, against her better judgment, she decided to be honest with him.

"Rowan, seriously, I wish I could be lying to you or putting on an act like you say." She said, giving a pleading look. "But I really, really can't remember anything before yesterday. And that... terrifies me."

"Exactly as I said. At least you're putting effort into it. Have you ever been an actress in a play, by any chance?"

He gave her the piece of paper he had selected.

"Okay, I want you to read this and based on that, tell me what moves you would use in case of a fight."

Disappointed, she did as she was asked, not surprised when she couldn't read anything.

"I... can't read this."

"You can't? But didn't you read the whole contract before signing?"

"I was pretending. So that the Guildmaster wouldn't ask anything." She admitted

"No way. Show me."

"Show you?" Alba asked, confused.

"How you read." He insisted, clearly losing his patience.

Returning to the paper, she saw the runes, those intricate shapes that confused her. Shapes that now that she looked closely, resembled drawings in some cases. She was sure that the one there looked a lot like a parrot, although with thick lines and such a simplified shape that she couldn't tell if it was a specific species or not. And that one there looked like an arachnid, with a central body from which eight lines of the same size emerged, which would be the legs There were also runes larger than others, although only in the first sentence of the paper; the rest were smaller. Could that be the title?

"Of course," Rowan said after a moment.

"What?" Alba finally put down the paper to look at Grovyle, who dragged his palm down his face. He looked... displeased.

"Nothing, it's just that I realize that Theron assigned me an illiterate to work with."

"So, you believe me?"

"You're supposed to read each sentence from top to bottom." He let out a sigh "Not from left to right like you appeared to do. Seriously, why would you think you read that way?"

"How would I know?"

"Enough!" He snapped. "I think I've been very tolerant of this whole situation. But if your excuse for everything you can't accomplish is going to be that little story of yours about amnesia, then you're not going to be of any use to me."

"I'm not lying Rowan. Is-Is there anything I can do to prove it to you?"

He scoffed, looking at her with a frown. But then…

"...You know what? I’m sorry for my outburst. We’ve both had a long morning. Maybe we just need some water to cool our heads. Don’t you think?"

The shift in his tone was so sudden that she couldn’t help but notice it.

"I—I guess?"

Rowan guided her through the morning crowd until they reached one of the larger shops. Its interior was spacious, shelves lined with jugs, pots, and all kinds of simple ceramic wares. It was empty like many she had seen before. They didn’t go inside, though. Instead, they stopped at the entrance, where several tall vases stood on display, high enough to reach her chest.

He picked up two ceramic cups from a nearby table, then lifted the lid of one of the vases, revealing clear, pristine water inside. Carefully, he filled both cups and handed one to Alba. Then he took a long sip from his own and let out a satisfied nod.

"Ahhh, fresh water straight from the mountains. Come on, don’t you want some?" he said, his voice brimming with an enthusiasm she hadn’t heard from him before.

Granted, she had only known him since this morning—but still.

Something inside her stirred uneasily. For some reason, the water made her wary. But she brushed the feeling aside. It was just a little water. Why would she worry? Besides, her throat had felt dry ever since she woke up.

"Well… I’ve been a little hoarse since I woke up."

"All the more reason."

Mimicking him, she took a generous gulp.

The moment the water touched her tongue, something felt wrong. It was bitter, violently bitter, as if a thousand tiny needles were stabbing the inside of her mouth. She forced herself to swallow, refusing to spit it out.

For a brief second, she thought that was the worst of it.

Then—

"Argh!"

A sharp pain flared in her throat, radiating rapidly down to her chest and stomach. The cup slipped from her claws and shattered against the floor. She doubled over, clutching her stomach with both paws, desperately trying to ease the agony.

The sharp pain twisted into something worse, an intense, searing irritation. Her throat burned and itched at once, forcing violent coughs out of her. With each one, small clouds of smoke puffed into the air.

"It burns," she wheezed between coughs. "Why does it burn so much?"

"You're a Charmeleon…" Rowan looked at her stunned "you're not supposed to drink that much water. Let alone so quickly."

"Then why didn't you say anything?" Alba asked angrily. Barely managing to control her coughing fit

"That’s the most basic thing every type of fire should know!" Rowan defended himself.

"Oh… oh no, no, no. You don’t even know the basics of your own biology." He seemed dazed.

"If you don’t even know that… then you’re not lying? But that… doesn’t make any sense. How can someone forget everything out of the blue?"

He had to lean on the table to keep his balance.

"Ohhhh no, dear sun. Theron was serious? I just… I thought it was another one of his oddities."

He looked at her with something close to desperation. "Swear it. Swear you’re not lying to me."

"I… swear." The words came out strained, half from the lingering burn in her throat, half from the weight of admitting it out loud.

"An amnesiac. Assigned as a sentinel." He let out a shaky, hollow laugh. "Theron really gave me an amnesiac as a partner. Oh… sacred moon, I’ll never be taken seriously, will I?"

"Hey!" A voice pulled her attention away from Rowan’s near collapse. It was a small voice coming from an equally small Nacli. "D-Do you know how expensive it is to bring that pottery all the way here?" She had crawled out from inside the shop, leaving a small trail of salt across the floor. "I hope you’re going to pay for that cup," she said, looking at the broken pottery. "Or else I’ll tell Papa!"

"U-Um… could you give us a second?"

Rowan continued laughing to himself. It seemed things had not gone according to plan for either of them.
 
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